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memurfevur-archive · 5 months

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Hide and Seek Part 2: The Bronze Girl

Character(s): Athena Uyilst, The Hidelord (@mageofspacemultiverse)

About: As Hidelord hosts an auction, a few visions of the future weigh on Athena's mind: a traitor, and a slave girl. Things don't exactly go to plan, though, and Athena finds herself with blood on her hands.

CW: graphic NPC death, blood, ask to tag

Hide and Seek Part 1: Song and Dance

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I stepped through the threshold as someone I was not, dragged by a leash fastened in the Hidelord’s hand. I kept my eyes on his back and my mouth closed. Anxiety threatened to grip my heart the closer we got to the merry-making that would welcome us below. I am not a stranger to parties, but I abhorred the ones Hidelord hosted.

A crowd had slowly filtered in: his close friends and fellow hunters with their best slaves, drinking from brown bottles and legs propped up on 'foot-rests'. They hollered and howled when we had walked in, a party effectively declared. Clove and holly dried in the window. Ribbons attached to the ankles and wrists of dancers waved to the music, loud to mark the festivities. Faces twisted in unappealing smiles, and the guests’ laughter almost sounded like an execution. I tried not to show my disgust as their spittle flew; a few rare droplets landed on my shoulder. It was worse than a circus here.

Beyond the thin, cramped opening that we walked through was a set of stairs leading to an old beech tree chair lavishly coated in layers and layers of high quality lusii fur. A gavel made from some poor troll’s horn perched precariously beside it. Hidelord guided me over, then gave a kiss to my knuckles before taking a seat. After waiting a moment so that his kiss could feel like the burning of bleach on my skin, he motioned for me to make a new perch on his lap.

"What...a...night. Welcome, you freaky fuckheads." The Hidelord welcomed, to another round of cheers and smirks from monsters just like him. "Yesterday we hunted; today, we feast on our spoils. Until then, see to it that you keep things entertaining."

Around us was a drunken revelry, one of the not-so-few occasions that this chalet would host a gathering. An auction, rather; a celebration of spoils and some chance to make wealth. I cast my eyes away from the guests manhandling available slaves, favoring to pretend it wasn’t happening at all. There’s no room for compassion here in this land, not unless there were strings attached, and I no longer had the power to intervene like I used to on the Mainland. In this existence as a bystander, I could only be thankful it wasn’t me, though I was not blind to the other warlords’ hungry looks. It was because of them, actually, that I had requested to sit upon my lord’s lap before our arrival.

My legs draped over the side of his throne as his hands rested beneath the thin cloth that hung very loosely over me, a protective but perverted claim to my body. I suppose it should’ve been obvious that I was his favorite asset, not that anyone else needed to know. The illusion of social politics is what makes the difference between life and death here in the Safari. The more someone is feared, the safer they are; if there’s ever a glimpse of weakness-- say, having a lover-- then the respect someone has for their fearsome leader would be gone. Leaders here must show a lonesome and gruesome independence to the likes of nothing that I could compare. Lovers, friends, children, anyone below a warlords rank: they’re all dangerous liabilities that could burn entire chalets down. There were not often exceptions.

Now you have someone like me: a dying breed, and with a gift for seeing the threads of time. A dangerous woman helping the stronghold stay strong, while playing the role of a fragile pet. A slave that could whisper suggestions into their crude warlord’s ear. It would be enough to set his throne ablaze. So we hide our song and dance from public eyes, and I kept my vow vigilance that he so greedily craves.

While looking away from the chaos of the party, my eyes landed on a particular warlord. The world around me had begun to drop away, and I was no longer myself. It was like I had been pulled underwater; the world shimmered and quivered around me, dusted in red. I knew what this meant, but whether I stood in the shoes of myself or someone else was always hard to tell-- but this man now before me became covered in blood. There was eagerness in his eyes, sparks of betrayal and a cruel smirk. Green stained the ground around him. I could feel my heart fall to my stomach. A slave stood by, trembling and crying. Bronze.

Then, I blinked, and a new scene played out before me. The same man, covered in blood but yellow instead of green. His body torn open, patches of skin missing from his body, and his face twisted in pain as agonized tears streamed down his face. A horn was broken. I could feel my pulse racing, and my hands began to twitch as if it could feel the texture of the horn that was once there. Anger. I felt so much anger….

I gasped and quickly sat forward, waking myself from these living dreams. We’d been in concert long enough for Hidelord to know my little signals, the lurch of my visions, the loyalty of my scent-tracking. He beckoned a servant to bring him drinks, playing the at-ease ruler without brains, but he surveyed the room with a cool intensity, looking to spot the piece of the puzzle that didn't fit quite right. There were a few that caught his attention, I could tell, but which one of them plotted was not too certain to him. As the drinks were brought over, he murmured to the troll: a sea-dweller dressed in wool rags with a bone piercing in his eyelid. This servant oversaw both gossip and the keys to the Hidelord’s personal zoo. The Hidelord knew how to play strengths, and before long he shooed them away. "Well?" His brows were expectant even as his words said little.

"You're the trapper, my dear turning knife. I will tell you when it is time. Preemptiveness does more harm than good, I have learned." I lowered my voice more, reaching back to trace a finger lightly across his throat. His eyes narrowed. "There are two possibilities. You're negotiating an asset, sharing her, and in your ecstasy you wouldn't even notice your throat cut. Or, you open theirs, covering her in their blood. Though I suppose this would give them away, once you begin to discuss your wares during this time of celebration, hm? Once someone touches it, is willing to give their life for it, you will know."

I felt a haze then, as if another vision was threatening to take me under again. A third possibility, but one I cannot see. Or, perhaps I had read my visions wrong? My lips pressed into a fine line as I turned back to glance at the crowd. The man was no longer where he should have been. I settled back into the lap and chest of my master. A few fingers parted through the locks of my hair, and Hidelord paid for my counsel with an unseen kiss to my temple. "A golden opportunity. Leeches must be cut out before they sink their teeth in too deep,” he murmured, "We'll show them our own form of ecstasy, won't we? Steal the smiles from their faces, the vigor from their bones?"

He held the glass of blood-red wine out to me, taunting me with a smirk. I did not refuse the wine, instead letting it wash over my parched lips as I drank from the glass in his hand. It was welcoming; a cool refreshment in a stale and warm atmosphere. Instead of licking the traces of wine off my lips when I was done, I brought my lips to his so he could sample, and when I pulled away he scraped his teeth against my bottom lip. I could feel his eyes linger on me as I turned away to look back at the crowd. He settled back more, letting the rhapsody spill out around us as we waited for the opportunity that I’d spoken of, his hand on my thigh just above the knee. Our song and dance, unknown to drunken eyes.

An hour and half seemed to pass at a lurid gait, until the heavy front doors jittered open and in sauntered a train of more slaves from the Hidelord's zoo. The zoo was its own form of hell: a great maze of cages just out back upon the sun-burnt cliffs. His eyes passed over each of his prizes, his potential products in turn, the fourth one drawing his-- no, both, of our gazes magnetically for a moment. Her outfit was beyond modest, and though her shoulder sank with accepted sadness, there was a glow about her. His chin tilted up in acknowledgment, and he took the horn next to the chair and gave it a quick bang across the top of the wooden chest, witnessing the whole of the party-goers go hush in preparation for his announcement.

"Well, well, well." He taunted the line of product, clutching me gently to him as he absorbed the fear they emitted and waved the guards that carried her over. "That umber would make a great deep color, don't you think, Athena? The tanning beneath the skin stiffen with heat, turning it a deep caramel. I could make you a handbag." I quietly scoffed with a scowl and said nothing, disgusted and with now prying eyes I am without the right to truthfully speak out against his taunts.

Instead, I studied the Bronzeblood within the cage. Her skin took on a soft hue of orange in the dull cascade of the sunset behind her. Her hair was long, matted, but the way it fell down on either side of her head framed her slender face well. She was beautiful, and everything about her matched my vision. I steeled myself for the trauma that was to come. I was to not care about her, just as I was to not care about any other servant in this building. No one survived being selfless in the Safari.

"You're privy to my domicile, you bastards and lepers, and you will be again!" Hidelord greeted to a harmony of snickers, "Now, as is typical, we have some lovely treats for you to occupy, if your wallet can take it. Eight prizes to do with as you please. To have a look, however, I offer free of charge." He scanned the row of patrons, splitting a grin and sipping at his cocktail. "Are there any takers? .......Nnnnooo? Well, perhaps-"

"I 'ant da one on yur lap 'ere, Hidelord!" A man with half his teeth missing cawed with a laugh, gesturing at me with his cane and licking his chops. My blood immediately ran cold and my stomach twisted in knots; I pressed myself tighter against my master-- my protection. The Hidelord rolled his eyes, cheek slouching against his wrist.

"Has there been a day that's gone by where you haven't asked for your piece, Haumme?"

"Ol take care 'er like you 'uldn't belief!"

"Shut your fuckin' trap. You're a groundskeeper. For the amount she's worth you'd have to take the teeth of everyone in this room, and then times that by four thousand, and lick the Grand Highblood's taint, and only then would you be halfway there." The dissenter's face soured and he grumbled into silence, and I couldn’t help but smile to myself.

Others with genuine offers soon stood and pressed their claim. The to-be-culprit caught my gaze when he stepped forward, venom evident in his eyes as he leered as though to say 'the hell are you looking at', before standing to make a claim of his own. "So much excitement!” Hidelord laughed and shook me, as if to get me to laugh along with him. Few transactions were made as time passed by slowly. I kept my gaze down to avoid the hungry eyes of strangers. I tried spacing out, thinking of anything but being here, so I wouldn’t have to listen to the survivor’s guilt that clawed at my stomach. I would be rattled to the present everytime Hidelord howled his laughter. I could not remember what time it was by the time the auction went on hold.

“Now, ladies and gentlemen, we'll discuss these purchases upstairs after the feast, no need to disrupt the celebration. I'll settle bidding wars, and let you tour your treats more properly." He chuckled, and the others bowed slightly in acknowledgment before the music fired up again.

In through the door after the cages came spits of roasted bone-in meat, dripping gobs of fat glistening from the flames, and great wood platters of hacked onions and vegetables. Patrons drew forward with their knives and carved their bits, some fighting to get the pieces they wanted. They ate with their hands, chewing into gristle and flesh and organ meat, wiping the blood and grease on their clothes. A servant brought the Hidelord a plate of his own, but he ignored it for now.

"There’s game to catch first,” Hidelord growled, “what do I seek, Athena?" His hand toyed with one of the knives on his belt, eager to let it feed on traitor blood.

I didn’t answer him. Fate was not mine to decide, not anymore. I learned long ago that no one could fight what was to come, to deny the inevitable. I tried not to think about that night and all the ones that followed. I tried not to think about the night I lost her. It can’t be helped; someone will be dying tonight. I scanned the crowd and once more my gaze landed on the warlord from my vision, brows furrowing and body tensing as he came closer to Hidelord’s throne. This was enough to quench Hidelord’s curiosity.

He picked up on the signal, looking sidelong for a moment before quickly turning his attention back. Hidelord spoke with his tone light; friendly, but shadowed by threats. "Jembra, you bitch, the party would've been better with you not around, pestering me for more than what you can fucking chew.” The troll who had approached the middle of the room, standing before the remnants of the roast, wore a symbol: though it was imprinted in a brand on his shoulder and embroidered on the ascot around his neck - like two swords crossing paths. The sunglasses over his eyes hid a pale amber-gold caste, and his stomach was fully obscured by pale-white dressings that may have even extended further down his legging-adorned lower half. A large C-shaped scar, long healed, drew from his upper chest to the side of his neck, and a pinky finger was missing at the joint. "And I’ll ask again. Somebody needed to see to our defenses," Jembra lightly deflected, a reedy and political color to his voice. "You mean, see to my assets?" "It's not against the code to chase yours, old friend." "Don't lecture me on the code, okay? I made the fucking code." Jembra glanced at me for a second, hands in his pockets, likely taking hold of some weapon. I could feel bile rising in the back of my throat, my fangs lengthening as my lips threatened to curl in a feral hiss. I bit my tongue to hold myself back.

"Point taken." His head cut upwards, breaking contact with me, "speaking of chasing, care to tell me about her? You know which kind I like."

The Hidelord swallowed his tongue, but his muscles tensed as he took a glance at the brown-blooded troll. Hidelord shooed me away off his lap, then gestured for the girl to be uncuffed and brought over to kneel at the foot of the steps. Jembra took a step forward and the Hidelord cracked the fingers on one hand, ready to vanquish the would-be-usurper...but not without patience.

My eyes lingered over the slave in question, cowering with tears streaming down her face. I learned long ago that this was the art of war. Once upon a time, that had been me cowering in a barricade as people laughed and touched, as if I was nothing but cattle. I felt pity for her, but I would sooner dissociate than feel the willpower to cause a change. That power wasn’t mine anymore. I turned to take a seat on the cushions at the foot of Hidelord's throne which were often reserved for his most prized slave, usually. It was rare that I wouldn’t be the one to warm them. As Jembra and Hidelord neared her, the Bronze whimpered and barked out a word that by now was almost foreign to me. My insides felt colder than the fear the other warlords put in me. "Akabri!" Akabri. A Vaelari word for something akin to mercy. A plea. A prayer. It felt as if all my breath had been taken from me. Vaelari. My birth people, long since wiped out by the Empire’s need for control. I knew I shouldn’t have, but I could not control the words that came from my mouth, and in my desperation I foolishly ignored the curious stares from the other warlords. These sounds, sounds that I have not spoken in sweeps, tore my throat raw: "Ebuto shiua! To ebu shiua!” You are heard.The Bronze girl began to tremble and sob out more Vaelari, matching my intensity. I had not even noticed the hot globs of tears that fell off my cheeks until I received a look of agitation from Hidelord. I immediately closed my mouth, fear making bile rise in my throat. I’d messed up.

All the background chatter and ambient noise faded to the chorus of a well-dead syntax filling the lodge. I could feel Jembra’s eyes on me, taking a glance as if it suddenly dawned on him that my presence was worthwhile.

"Well isn't that something? Them two know one another, do they?"

"I wouldn't know. Don't remember giving her permission to speak, though. Damn nuisance. She'll be lucky if I don't-"

"That isn't just speaking, that's understanding. I could use an interpreter." Jembra's rotten teeth almost glowed. "Name your price."

"Not for sale."

"Really now? I wouldn't say I agree." He scuffed his boot at the foot of the stairs, sending the Bronze shuddering. "You're a reasonable business-troll, great Hidelord, and everyone has a price. And to me, there's something...sweetly exotic about it. Your little bird could help me learn." He lightly, yet overtly commented. The Hidelord was not amused. "Didn't you hear the last bat-shit vagabond who asked me? Whatever price you want to match-"

"I'll give you my Lime. You remember Saphic? You're not going to turn that down, are you? For an endangered line you'd be insane, she's 500 teeth."

As the Umbre continued babbling, Hidelord's eyelid twitched, and he motioned to his guards. "For the love of the seven hells, someone shut this bitch up. Heat the brand, gag her, fuck if I care, but she's harshing the vibes in here."

"We're in the middle of an acquisition here! Leave her to speak, chum." Jembra quipped as two larger trolls approached but immediately wavered at Jembra’s gesture. "Besides, that was a poorly veiled distraction. You know, I don't think we've ever gotten to see this slave's blood first-hand.” Jembra gestured at me, and my eyes widened. “What is she? Based on your defense I'm guessing… Rareblood? No, maybe someone pretty damn important. Why don't we all find out...?" I fell silent at Jembra’s foolish threats. I tried to hush the Bronze girl to try to dissuade the others from harming her, but my attempts were fruitless. With a sigh, the Hidelord grabbed the Bronze by the hair and threw her into Jembra with a roar. If it was one thing I knew, it was that no one should feel comfortable with threatening anything of his.

The swaggering traitor caught her, stumbling backward, and Hidelord threw a dagger into the troll's foot, catching the slave's side as it flew through the air. Both shouted, but the Hidelord didn't relent, and he quickly hoisted Jembra up the stairs on his back.

I lurched forward and caught the Bronze and held her, comforting her, quieting her cries as we spoke our tongue. This was not how it was supposed to go. This was not what I saw in my vision. I cast a look over my shoulder as Hidelord grappled with Jembra. As I watched them I whispered to the Bronze, telling her to hide if she could. This had turned personal.

I turned and saw Jembra reach for the knife, and Hidelord not having a clue, thinking himself won.

I hesitated, between letting it be and intervening. I shouldn't intervene! I should have learned by now that I couldn't change fate. I couldn’t do it to protect my brother, I couldn’t fight it to protect my matesprit, what chance would that change now for someone who claimed me as nothing but property? Hidelord's future was his... but did I have a future without him? What would happen to me here without Hidelord's protection? I thought to all the hungry warlords that undressed me with their eyes. Fates be damned, what use was a lie if it was dead?

With a deep breath, I readied myself and sprung. I landed on a table, then immediately propelled off of it and onto the wall where I ran just above the crowds’ heads. Jumping from that point, I pounced, not unlike a cat. A predator. A monster. My hands wrapped around Jembra's throat, snatching him from Hidelord's grasp. I could feel eyes fall on me in disbelief, but I could not care. I lifted Jembra high enough above the ground so his feet weren't touching, my nails digging into his flesh. I took the knife from his foot and threw it aside, leaving him with no spare weapon to scramble for. For me? I didn’t need one. I grabbed one of his horns and, effortlessly, ripped one of them off. I felt the chitin and sinew of nerves snap in my hands, and when I dislodged his horn I immediately rammed it into his gut.

While he shrieked in pain I grappled the man so that he was over my shoulder, my hands still clasped around the horn. As I threw him over my head the horn sliced through his skin, ripping him open and causing blood to spray everywhere. The body crashed against the wall with a sick, wet thud. I heaved in every breath, drinking it like water, growls and snarls escaping me like a feral beast. I will keep my protection. Hidelord will not die today. I spat at Jembra’s body, cursing at him in Vaelari.

The sound in the cabin was mute, as all the onlookers’ stares landed on me. All the guards and the lords and the slaves. Hidelord included, too. I looked up at him, looking for something: acknowledgment, approval.

But instead what I was met with was the back of his hand meeting my cheek, holding nothing back. His chest heaved as he stashed the knife and retreated back to his chair, taking the glass of wine from earlier and taking a few long swigs. I stared after him as the sting caused unwanted tears to well up in my eyes. His back was turned to me when he spoke again. "Guards, two of you. Take her upstairs. I don't want to hear that awful gibberish again, and if she keeps talking help her forget it. I'll deal with her later. Two more, take all these back to the zoo. Sales are closed for tonight. One had to ruin the fucking party for everybody. The rest of you can finish your meals and ales and fuck yourselves home." He turned to one scuttling assistant with glasses too big for his face and a long gray apron. Hidelord gestured to the strewn corpse. "I doubt he's salvageable, but see what you can do. If you get some life back in him, I'll make him wish he were dead later. If not, slop for the boars, they'll be happy for a fresh meal. And if you all have any questions, shove it." He cast one look back at me before taking his seat again. I shouldn’t have felt hurt. This was the song and dance, but a well of bitterness churned in my stomach, as two guards came and picked me up by the arms. A cast a glare at Hidelord, but that quickly lost its flame and I lowered my eyes to the ground. They dragged me up the stairs and dumped me in Hidelord’s study, buried me in fists and kicks, blood and bruises. Then, they were just as quick to abandon me to their posts right outside the door.

I settled myself against his desk, pressing my back against it and pulling my knees to my chest. I could feel the bruise forming on my cheek, no doubt a ring on his had made a haunting impression. Frustration built up in me, and I lashed out at the ground with my fist-- leaving that aching now, too.

I had been face-to-face with my past, and I could do nothing to save her. I had acted out of line and saved Hidelord’s pathetic ass, but I was to be punished for it. And above all, my visions failed me.

The music picked up again with far less vigor, and it was not ten minutes before he came storming up the stairs, near-snarling for the guards to watch downstairs for any dissenters. The door slammed open as the sound of footsteps landed outside.

The great Oliveblood shook his head with a grimace, pulling out a bag of ice and tossing it on the ground in front of me. "That's for your face, bitch. If I didn't punish you in some way right away, it would've turned into a fiasco down there: owners calling for my head or dragging you out into the Safari with the others. What happened, Athena? What in the Gog fuck happened? You said to wait for a signal and then start spewing nonsense out of your good-for-nothing government beak!"

There was frustration in his eyes. Power-hungry fury, yes. His voice was deep and bellowed with guttural anger. But there was a hint of something else that was unfamiliar and out of place. Fear? Since when was the mighty Hidelord afraid?

I didn't pick up the bag of ice, basking in the pain for a moment longer, but then surmised that I might be punished more if I didn't accept his help. I reached for the bag and pressed it to the bruise.

"...She was my kin," I said, wincing at my voice cracking. "We came from the same lands. The same people. The same family that the Empire you all so gleefully ignore wiped out. We were the Vaelari, or Fae as they call it. I thought my brother and I were the only survivors." I slumped back with a grunt, tilting my head back to lessen the pain. "I shouldn't tell you any of this. You'll just see it as another fucking dollar on a price tag. Or tooth. Or whatever the hells you fuckers use. Art of war or whatever. I wish I could be so ignorant."

He crumpled into his chair by the window again, hunched over and brain working. There was a stretch of silence before he spoke again. "......I'm not gonna pretend I understand what you're feeling. Doesn't serve either of our interests for me to, either. But okay. That, that at least, doesn't make what you did entirely ass-backwards.” My brow quivered at this sudden show of sympathy. Right. Songs and dances can feign emotion, too.

“Don't underestimate the power of a price tag, though. If what you're saying is true and she's endangered, that makes her an asset. Not a troll to just throw away to anyone with a few funds." He met my gaze for a moment. "Someone I can keep in the chalet. You understand?" The Hidelord shook his head and in a surprising move, shed himself of the long jacket that was his calling card. "...I've never told you how I made this coat, or at least not the specifics. It really isn't yours or anyone's fucking business, but after tonight's little display, I don't exactly have a choice in the matter. "I've been with bitches before, and I know you know it. I grew up in the Chalet, it was built on Atalis soil by Atalis hands. Labored in and out for a commune, a place of trade without chucklefucks breathing down our necks. My ancestor had it stolen by another lord when I wasn't even pupated, and I took it from another cuck some time later, but the place has never changed, and neither has the code." He didn't meet my eyes anymore as he ran his hands along the sleeves. "My first mate was named Imniks. She was everything to me. The body, the spirit. She was a soft thing though, plucked from a pillowcase. Squishy, overt. Tried to stand up to a rival lord once. Well, he left and gathered the others and waged war on us, vowed to take my Imniks, have their way with her, and make her watch as they killed me. Burn this place to the ground. She was weak… so I gave her up to save everything that meant something to me or the others.

"But you," his pupils seared into the wall, "you aren't weak. You're made of stronger stuff. I'm not looking to give up another and I don't think you're the kind to make me, but I've been here my whole life. You haven't... They'll want you thrown in the Safari for this, and I'll do my damndest to keep you out of a real cage, but if you think your bitch ass is going to get both of us killed because of the life that kicked you to the curb, you better right reconsider your perspective."

His voice was even and scarily calm despite his clear anger, as though romanticizing his past struggles with these trolls took the energy out of him.

I glanced at him briefly, taking in his story and his words and studying him without the coat. I wanted to argue, to say that they couldn't have any influence in what he did with me because I was his, but he was right. He knew this place better, and I should know better than anyone that politics is one hell of a field to traverse in.

But, his praise surprised me. Strong? How, when I had given up on life so long ago? His words made me reconsider; if I was weaker than what he claimed, I wouldn't be able to survive here. I wouldn't have been able to match him blow for blow my first day here, prompting him to spare me. Maybe there really was a fire still in me? How long would it be until those embers would go out, too?

Despite the sting of blood that dribbled into my eyes, I ignored my body's screams as I shuffled to the Hidelord and kneeled. Humility was a powerful thing to offer, sometimes greater than a life. "You are right. I was foolish, reckless. Do what you will to punish me, and make it believable, so what respect I robbed of you will be returned."

His hair hung wild across his shoulders, which shook along with his head. A thin sickle split his cheeks, armed with teeth. "You're a crazy bird. They heard enough to be calmed for tonight. I can't promise tomorrow won't sting, though. Jembra's people will want blood on their hands. I'll see what kind of middle ground we can find." When the Hidelord spoke of middle ground, it usually meant killing a few more trolls to supplement the losses. "Lilac's hard to bullshit, though. Then again, I'm sure you can foresee what I'm gonna do, so don't get all defiant on me. It's just business."

I pressed my lips together, not liking the sound of that, but I nodded along. There was a knock on the door, and the Hidelord quickly strode over and peaked around to see a servant carrying his food from downstairs. Keeping the door mostly-shut, he took the plate with a snarl, taking a fistful of meat before putting it down on the ground for me. His teeth worked and ground flesh into pulp as he nursed the idea of what he was going to do with his prize. From outside came drunken moans and howls and screeches that I wasn’t sure were lusii or troll in nature. "But I'll keep your Fae-shmae bitch around here for now, since you ended up saving my life. Frankly killed two wingbeasts with one bloody fuckin' stone; Jembra’s always been a damn rat, but he knew better to consider a play like that. And, if they can put blood in ‘im and make him squawk again,” there was a glint in his eyes, strange and eerie and wanting. "Maybe I'll show you how to skin the bastard.”

Silence filled the block for a while. There wasn't much worth talking about anymore. No bravado, no tug-of-war for dominance; not tonight. Guards didn't care to enter, nor were there demands for explanation. He never pressed for details about my life in these moments, when things were calm and there was no face to put on. Sometimes if the silence got unbearable, he'd ask what I wanted. Tonight though, there was none of that. He only polished his knives, eventually lighting a cigar for himself to smoke. The sounds of the howls and hoots would emerge from the Safari, somewhere far away from the small shred of troll-manity they were encased inside, though even those faded as the darkness began to lighten.

When he'd gotten through his whole belt, he stood and flicked his ashy blunt into an ashtray, then stretched and cracked his back. Hidelord’s eyes lingered on me for a few heartbeats, face even and giving away nothing. "If you want to sleep, sleep in the chair. Not sure if you're risking a hunt today, but either way...good morning." Briskly, the warlord left to his bed and pulled a curtain closed behind him, leaving me alone with my bruises and thoughts.

"Good morning, dear turning-knife.”

I glanced briefly at the chair, then greedily took to it knowing that it was better than nothing. As I curled up in the chair, I brought my knees to my chest and hugged myself tightly. I missed the warm arms of a loved one around me and the feeling of safety without the need of keeping one eye open. I missed friendly company with no strings attached; I missed the sounds of everyday life outside my door. But then I wondered if this was really any different than what my life had been on the Mainland. The Hidelord was just another Grand Highblood, but with green in his veins instead of purple, and having the cruelty of pretending that he cared.

And once again, not for the first and certainly not the last time, loneliness lulled me to sleep.

#Hide and Seek #Trapper and Trader #Athena Uyilst #The Hidelord #fevur writing #character death #blood #violence #ask to tag

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corpsentry · 3 years

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changed my mobile layout and wow the colors are insufferable now. just the way i wanted them to be

#it’s 4:40 am. what if i slept right now. this is psychologically impossible #what is happening. questions. i know not #how does one obtain from an object a Joy #for a while i was obsessed with online shopping. now i am a clown #things come and go and come and go and for WHAT you ever think about that #i refuse to believe 2020 is ending. it never started #fuck this time shit bro i’m going to sleep and i’ll wake up when god calls for me during roll call #gelmo #edit i thought of something to say #i finally got a hang of the controls in oot. cool link run fast sonic #kid link is going to be the fucking end of me he can’t even shield #i have to keep rebuying deku shields because when i press r to defend with the hylian shield the little motherfucker just CROUCHES #god. you are 3 years old. what’s it like to be so young . to know such innocence #i got stuck again last night apparently i gotta find ruto. ruto where are you #anyway it’s been great. i like kid link he’s doing his best #very excited to be forcefully aged up and get to actually USE my hylian shield which i BOUGHT though #soon #maybe tomorrow #i no longer know my life is a merry go round and i am sitting on the shrek statue

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cassandraclare · 3 years

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The Letter Game (in full)

Many have asked to read last week’s letter game in a slightly simpler format. So here it is, for everyone’s enjoyment in plain text, under the cut. The action takes place between Chain of Gold and Chain of Iron. Read on . . .

1: INVITATION

To all and sundry—

The leaves are changing, and with them the season. It grows colder in London by the day, and even without the pestilence that recently ravaged us, even without demons breathing down our necks, cold with chill—now is the time for all good Shadowhunters to come to one another’s aid, and support one another in that most hallowed Nephilim tradition: song and dance.

So, a Musicale! The Townsends are pleased to invite the Enclave, in toto, to our West End home this Friday’s eve. Refreshments will of course be served, but the entertainment will be provided by you, our esteemed guests and friends. We would be so honored if you would help us welcome the coming of winter by bringing your most excellent capers and ballads, to keep us warm.

Grahame and Millie Townsend

2: Lucie » Cordelia

Cordelia, my sister, the very twin of my own heart,

Can you believe the Townsends’ invitation? How pretentious can one be, I ask you! It took all four Herondales an hour of discussion to conclude that “Friday’s eve” meant simply Friday evening rather than the eve before Friday (that is, Thursday). And is the demons or our necks that are meant to be cold with chill? “Cold with chill!” As a writer of words—no, even only as a reader of words—I am offended.

I digress, however. I write to ask whether you will be attending, as that will be significant to my own decision of whether to go. I asked James, and he was unenthused but “supposed” that “we must.” So I wish to let you know that if you don’t fancy attending, I believe James could be easily convinced. But, as unpleasant a night as it promises, I fear he may be correct that “we must.” You and he, after all, must do the social rounds as a betrothed pair, and I—well, I can hardly sit alone in my bedroom all night while all my friends witness Catherine Townsend’s cold-blooded murder of “O mio babbino caro.”

So whatever your preference, I will be amenable. We can put on our frills and watch the most foolish of our set warble and prance, and at least we will have each other’s company and champagne. Or, if you’d prefer, tea and draughts in the Institute parlour. I am yours to command, my warrior-sister.

(I have realized only at this moment that perhaps you not only wish to attend but to perform yourself; if that is the case, I retract all previous mentions of warbling in favor of my unconditional enthusiastic support. I will even accompany you, if you wish, but I am not very good at the spinnet so please, something fairly slow would be best.)

Yours ever across the still waters of time and space,

L. Herondale

3: Ariadne » Anna

Dear Miss Lightwood,

I expect that you will have received the same invitation to the Townsends’ Musicale that the rest of the Enclave has. I write with the question of whether it’s your intention to attend, and to say that I hope that you will, and that I hope to see you there.

It’s not your sort of party, of course—dull, bourgeois, and stuffy, I imagine you’d say—but since as the daughter of the Inquisitor I am rarely able to appear at the more lively gatherings that you prefer, I do plan to attend myself, much as I would rather be elsewhere. (At one of those lively gatherings, perhaps?) Catherine will have my head if I am not there to keep her mother out of her hair, for one thing, and for another…well, I wish to see you.

I have it on fairly good authority that your brother and his roisterous band, or whatever they call themselves, are planning to be there. So I also write to implore you to come so that a cooler head will be present and any explosions, or implosions, or indeed bedlam of any kind, will be, if not prevented, at least more easily contained and cleaned up after.

For the event I am thinking of a dress I have, in a deep ruby color, with a rather striking neckline. I am no great judge of my own appearance, but I do know your taste and I daresay you will find it flatters me. For your part, I hope you will wear those pinstriped trousers you have. You have not worn them in an age, and I miss them, or rather, I miss how elegantly you wear them.

In short, I hope to see you there.

I know it is not your habit to keep letters from admirers, but rather to use them to kindle your fireplace. Perhaps that will be the destiny of this note as well, but I believe not. I come to you not as an admirer, after all, but as a friend, and one who wishes you all the best things in the world—

Yrs.,

Ariadne Bridgestock

4: Anna » Matthew

Mr. Fairchild—

Matthew, I have instructed the courier bringing you this note to evaluate your sobriety and, if it is found wanting, to slap you across the face twice. Straighten up and pay attention, you debauched fool. It’s still breakfast-time. And this is important.

Are you going to the Townsends’ musicale?

Let me rephrase: if you know what’s good for you, you will be going to the Townsends’ musicale.

I hope to enjoy your company there, of course, as my friend and companion. But also, to be frank, I will need the support. My night was free and so I told them I would be there, but I wasn’t thinking, and now I’ve received a note from one A.B., letting me know in no uncertain terms that she will definitely be attending as well. It will be a large gathering, no doubt, and most of our time will be spent watching Thoby Baybrook chase after the juggling-balls he keeps dropping during his performance, rather than close-quarters socializing. But—and I trust in your confidence on this matter—I find I flutter with nerves. Imagine. I never flutter!

I hope I can count on you. I am not usually in the business of begging favors. However, this is an unusual situation. Matthew: she will be wearing the burgundy dress.

Anna

5: Ariadne » Matthew

To Matthew Fairchild—

All right, I’ve sent the letter. Against my better judgment, I should add. It seems more likely to drive her away than to attract her, to be honest, but you have her confidence in ways that I no longer do. If you think she is more likely to be there as a result, I will trust in your plan.

However.

I am fully aware that under most circumstances neither she nor you would be found as such a dreary party as an Enclave-wide musicale. (Nor would I, but as the daughter of the, et cetera et cetera, I hardly need to tell you.) So let this note serve as, not a threat, but a promise: if you even think about ditching the party for one of your Downworlder orgies, or whatever your usual scene, and you leave me and her to awkward politesse over stale canapes without showing up yourself…I will follow you to the ends of the Earth and your life will be forfeit. Forfeit, Fairchild. I daresay I can best you in a duel three times out of four, but also be assured I am very good with a dagger in the dark.

I look forward to enjoying this merry entry in the social season with you. I will see you there.

Yours sincerely,

Ariadne Bridgestock

6: Matthew » Cordelia

No, that won’t do at all. There are already other C’s. Christopher, for instance. Also Caiaphas, a werewolf from whom I sometimes purchase wine. (He has an excellent nose, you see.)

Cordelia Carstairs, you need not worry about the Townsends’ party. First, none of Our Lot are planning to perform at all, but merely hang back and watch the festivities while imbibing and filling seats. You certainly shouldn’t worry that you’ll be asked to dance as you did at the Ruelle. This will not be the Ruelle. It will be far more insipid.

I’m sure J is focused entirely on your responsibilities as an engaged couple to make the rounds and be seen by the whey-faced provincials of the Enclave. He is correct, as always, the bastard, but he worries too much. Rest assured that we Thieves will be concocting a plan in which we are able to (1) have a good time at the most boring gathering of the season and (2) not miss cake. (I don’t know if you have had cake at the Townsends’. They are a tedious family, but their cook is some kind of confection-obsessed elf who performs great conjurings with spun sugar and buttercream.) (Yes, he really is an elf, I think. Or Catherine was having me on. His ears are fairly pointed, in any event.)

I do not particularly anticipate this musicale with great pleasure, but I do, of course, anticipate the opportunity to spend time in your presence with great relish. Truly, my parabatai could not have picked a more suitable bride with whom to be mutually bored to tears at parties for years to come. I suggest that for this one you bring a flask to tuck into your reticule. If you don’t, worry not; I will bring two. At least two.

I remain, as always, yours sincerely, etc etc,

Matthew Fairchild

7: James » Thieves

CONFIDENTIAL—DO NOT DISTRIBUTE—ON PAIN OF TORTURE—THIS MEANS YOU

Merriest of Thieves,

After extensive discussion, we’ve reached consensus (or as close as we will come) on our plan for Having Fun At the Townsends’ Musicale Even Though It Is a Musicale Hosted By the Townsends. (A variety of alternate names were proposed, but all have been vetoed by the plan’s organizer, that is, myself. Please do not continue to send proposed names, Matthew.)

Our esteemed colleague Christopher has, it seems, been working in his spare time on a new method of rapidly sending written messages without the use of couriers. Instead, messages are sent with a combination of runes (so bring your steles) and a propellant of Christopher’s own invention. I’m told that the technique is not yet flawless, but Mr Lightwood reports that it is ready to be shown and tested, and what better place than a party at which missing the main entertainment would be not disappointing, but rather a great relief.

Down a corridor from the Townsends’ main parlour is a small games room. I say games room, but in truth it is empty of games, and nobody ever uses it. It is windowless and a bit close, but mostly empty of furnishings and a suitable location for a scientific demonstration. Even better, the corridor itself departs the parlour with a dog-leg, and once one has passed around the corner, one is invisible to the notice of the other partygoers. (See attached floor plan of the first storey of the house; thanks to TL for his freehand drafting skills.)

This plan assumes that none of you are planning to perform in the musicale itself; if this is not the case, then MF wishes me to remind you both of your loyalties and to the overall philistine-like qualities of most of the guests.

Surely this will provide sufficient entertainment to get us all through the evening.

The party is only one days away, so if there are any questions about this plan, please hiss them to me sotto voce tomorrow night while Millie Townsend is performing her murder ballads.

Courage, half a league, half a league onward, and so on,

James H

PS: For those whose main draw to this party is Morgaint’s famous Victoria sponge, Christopher assures me that we should be done well in time for dessert. (I should add a warning that it should not be referred to as a Victoria sponge within earshot of Morgaint, as he will lecture you at length about the recipe’s preceding Victoria by centuries, the history of confection in pre-Roman Britain, and so on. He is very temperamental, even for a faerie.)

8: Thomas » Alastair

Dear Mr Carstairs—

We have not spoken in many weeks, presumably as a result of the unfortunate circumstances under which we last met. Nevertheless, I write this evening to extend my wishes for your family’s continued health and good fortune.

As I’m sure you know, this Friday marks an Enclave-wide social event at the home of the Mr and Mrs Townsend. I know that your sister will be in attendance, with her fiancé. The Lightwoods—Eugenia, Anna, Christopher, and myself—are also planning to be there. And, of course, we expect the family of our esteemed Consul, including both of her sons, to make an appearance.

Shall we expect to see you there? I ask merely because if so, I will not be attending. I understand that as your family will be there you have every right to attend, so I am happy to be the one who bows out of the evening.

Yours sincerely,

Mr T. Lightwood

9: Alastair » Thomas

Mr Lightwood

Tom

Look, you,

I am amazed and impressed by the effrontery of you writing to me to ask whether I will be attending an event only to them tell me that if I attend, you will not. No doubt you are feeling aggrieved about the last time we met. Well, so am I. Jests and pranks from our schoolboy years are hardly a good enough reason for the kind of public humiliation I suffered, both from Matthew Fairchild’s rude outburst and your own. The very thought of attending a party with the likes of you sends me into a mixture of, on the one hand, paroxysms of helpless laughter, and on the other, a thumping headache of barely contained fury that I

[letter discarded, not sent]

Mr Lightwood,

Thank you for your kind letter. I am, of course, aware of the upcoming affair at the home of the Townsends, through the usual means of receiving my own request to attend. It would seem to me obvious that I had no need of being informed about the party as though I would otherwise be ignorant of it. Unlike some of the London Shadowhunter families, the Townsends have only ever been courteous to the Carstairs family, and the implication that I wouldn’t have received exactly the same invitation that you did is exactly the kind of nonsense that

[letter discarded, not sent]

Thomas,

I won’t be attending the Townsends’ musicale, as I am already committed to a preferable previous engagement cleaning out the pigeon cages in the Regent’s Park Zoo.

Thank you for thinking of me.

Receipt of your letter is hereby acknowledged.

I don’t know why you would write to me at all, but please do not write back to try to explain.

[letter discarded, not sent]

Thomas,

I do want to apologize, I have tried to apologize, but every time I come near you a wall of your friends prevents me from doing so. You can hardly hold it against me that I have not apologized when you will not allow me to do so. Yes, I know what I did rises far above the level of a jest or a prank. But one must be allowed to make amends somehow, for otherwise what is there? Hopelessness? Not I suppose that you care much what I feel. Just because you are beloved of your friends, and ridiculously tolerably handsome, you think —

[Letter discarded, not sent]

10: Cordelia » James

J—

Do you need rescuing? Everyone is in the games room for Christopher’s demonstration, even Thomas, who has spent most of the evening hiding from my brother. You on the other hand have been waylaid in the corner with Mrs Whatshername. I tried to get close enough to intervene but was swept away myself by Mr Townsend, who wanted to tell me about his travels in the Levant when he was a younger man. Could not tell if he was confused about my family’s origins or he simply assumed anyone would be fascinated by his tales of camels and pyramids. Anyway, M suggests he could interrupt and scold you for ignoring your betrothed. Lucie says you are ignoring your betrothed, but don’t listen to her, I know you are far too polite to interrupt a member of the older set. (If you yourself remember, please remind me of her name when you come.)

Come as soon as you can. Do not allow Mrs Whatshername to follow you.

Daisy

11: Christopher » Thieves

To: James, Lucie, Matthew, Thomas, Cordelia, Anna, Ariadne

From: Christopher

In an ideal world, I would have been able to send you this note through this very technique I am demonstrating tonight, but it does make a fairly loud bang, and I thought that would likely give the game away. Though I wish to not allow social proprieties to impede the progress of science, I have been reminded by several of you that discretion can be the better part of valor. Although I admit I can’t think of any personal examples where that would be the case.

In the games room I have piled a supply of protective spectacles, which I suggest you wear. There is no danger of damage to your eyes, but there may be some very bright flashes. In addition, the propellant which I will be using to send the message is an experimental mixture, similar to those I have tried in the past but not exactly the same. There is a very very small chance that inhalation of its fumes may cause some temporary effects to the mind, so I recommend that you hold a handkerchief over your nose and mouth during the demonstration. To be clear, I don’t think that any of these effects would have any negative impact on our ability to return to the party and attend the musical performances afterwards. At worst, it may make those performances seem more enjoyable than they would otherwise.

12: James » Townsends

Dear Mr and Mrs Townsend,

On behalf of myself, my family, my fiancée, and my fellows, I wished to extend sincerest apologies for departing your lovely gathering without saying proper goodbyes. Your musicale was, as all would have expected, a smashing success, with performances across the board demonstrating the falsehood of the common claim that the Nephilim are unable to produce works of art. Surely your daughter Catherine’s rendition of Puccini’s famous aria could stand alongside the finest professionals to be found in the Royal Albert Hall.

As you discovered along with the rest of the guests, Christopher Lightwood wished to use the opportunity of having us all present to demonstrate the state of his newest invention. I’m told that when it is completed, it will utterly revolutionize the way that Shadowhunters are able to communicate with one another, obviating the need for the runners, couriers, and use of the mundane Royal Mail to send messages to one another. Instead we will have a fully self-contained rune-based method. Surely anyone would agree that such a development would be well worth whatever growing pains the process of invention and experimentation might create.

As you also discovered, Mr Lightwood’s demonstration took an unexpected turn, with a good amount of his customized propellant being released into your games room and corridors. Luckily, it was a mild evening, and open windows as well as the vigorous fanning of the doors by Thomas Lightwood and Ariadne Bridgestock quickly dispersed the gasses.

That said, neither I nor my companions are able to account for an interval of roughly ninety minutes between the end of the demonstration and our departure from your house. To that end, it seems that we were sadly lacking in good manners by failing to thank you for your warm hospitality at the time. Again, please accept our deepest apologies, and our thanks for that hospitality, even if it has been delivered discourteously late.

Warmest regards,

James Herondale

13: Matthew » James

Jamie,

Good Lord, what was in that stuff of Christopher’s? Do you know if there will be any lasting effects? I hesitate to ask Kit, he seems too dismayed.

Also, I am trying to find out to whom exactly I owe an apology for specific behaviors that might have happened after the demonstration. I seem to have lost more than an hour from my memory, as well as my waistcoat and a garnet ring of which I was quite fond. Any thoughts you have would be appreciated.

Matthew

14: Lucie » James

James,

I have been expecting to hear from Matthew, but as it has been most of a day and I haven’t yet, can you please let him know that I will make myself available to be apologized to during teatime, either tomorrow or the next day. Please also tell him that I will be sending along a bill for the costs of cleaning arrack out of the skirt of my dress. For such a prodigious consumer of spirits, you would think he would have learned not to slosh them around so much when he talks. I suppose Christopher’s propellant takes some of the blame, but honestly, Shadowhunters are trained in agility and dexterity and even under the influence of one of Christopher’s experiments he should be able to, at very least, not slosh so.

Lucie

15: Cordelia » Anna

Dear Anna,

The last hour or so of the party was something of a blur for all of us, I think. But I feel confident in assuring you that both you and Ariadne acted with all due propriety, and that at no point did you “make an ass of yourself,” as you put it, either out among all the guests or in the games room.

Also, when next you speak to Ariadne, please compliment her on her lovely dress. It suited her quite well! I wondered if you were responsible for finding it for her? You do have such an excellent eye for what colors and cuts will flatter.

Anyway, do not worry. I have made some private inquiries, and nobody took note of any unusual behavior on the part of either yourself or Miss Bridgestock. (In fact, Rosamund seemed to be under the impression that you were shamelessly flirting with her. I can confirm that you were not and that Rosamund simply has an odd way about her.)

Are we still on for tea Wednesday? Let me know if not and otherwise I will see you then.

Cordelia Carstairs

16: Townsends » Everybody

For the attention of:

James Herondale

Lucie Herondale

Matthew Fairchild

Thomas Lightwood

Anna Lightwood

Christopher Lightwood

Alastair Carstairs

Cordelia Carstairs

On behalf of not just our own family, but the parental generation of the Enclave more generally, we wish to communicate our displeasure with your behavior at our soirée on Friday’s eve. You are all adults or near-enough, under Nephilim Law, and so you should be held to account as any adults would be. And you should be ashamed of yourselves.

Given the influence had by many of your families, and the small size of the London Enclave, we cannot bar you from all of our future events. If only we could. We will, however, be more careful in future about shutting off access to rooms in our house that are not intended for use by party guests.

Rather than taking the time to craft individual complaints, we hereby itemize the most obvious of our grievances, so that you may all have your behavior exposed to one another. Certainly none of you deserve to have your actions kept private.

Alastair: We were glad to see you eventually arrive, though there is a wide difference between “fashionably late” and the hour you appeared. (Just in time for the desserts, we note.) Also, the song you performed was highly inappropriate for the ladies present, especially the unmarried ones, such as our daughter, and also your own sister.

Lucie: While we have always supported your hobby of writing down entertaining tales, and we understand that the storyteller’s art does involve artistic creativity, your ongoing, strident, melodramatic narration of the events following the Christopher Lightwood Incident was not appreciated by us or, especially, Mrs Rosewain, who you referred to throughout as “Mrs Whatshername.”

James: Your interruption of the cake serving to declare your undying devotion to your true love was a gallant gesture. It might, however, have gone over better had you not pledged your troth to a portrait in oils of our ancestral matriarch, Frideswide Townsend. Your taste is admirable, of course, and she was considered a great beauty. It is unfortunate for your affections that she passed away in the late sixteenth century.

Anna: We would thank you to come by and pick up your brother from our house at some point. He has been muttering to himself, fiddling with a pencil and paper, and threatening “another test, much improved.” Please retrieve him post-haste.

Thomas: We don’t know how you made the acquaintance of that vampire who attempted to accompany all of the performers on his dulcimer, but he is not welcome back to our house, and if we see him again, neither are you.

Matthew: Whatever was in that bottle you were plying to my mother, we only found her this morning, napping on our roof. When we woke her she said it was of a greenish color and asked for more of it. We would be obliged if you could bring another bottle by, at your convenience.

Cordelia: Your demonstration of the supernatural sharpness of your sword was very impressive, even if it was not in the spirit of the kinds of performance we expected for a musicale. It is, however, not all that surprising that it was able to cut through our drapes, a dining-room chair, or the sponge cake. We spoke to your brother, and he suggested that we should feel free to send an invoice for replacement costs to the Herondale family, since soon enough you will be their trouble, and not his.

In short, you have all behaved abominably, and are, each and every one of you, embarrassments to your various hallowed family names.

We hope you will join us the Thursday after next, for boating and luncheon in Hyde Park.

Mr and Mrs Graham Townsend

#letter game #the merry thieves #the last hours #chain of gold #chain of iron

2K notes · View notes

tomurasprincess · 3 years

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Kinktober Day 21: Drugging (Here Comes the Bride)

Day 21: Drugging Title: Here Comes the Bride Pairing: Kirishima x F!Reader Word Count: 2.5k Warnings: Noncon, dubcon, drugging, cheating, bit of mindbreak, yandere Note: Thanks to @pleasantanathema for talking me through this idea when I was like “I DUNNO WHERE TO TAKE THIS.” I really appreciate it!

Kinktober Masterlist

Today is the happiest day of your life. You're finally getting married to the man of your dreams, hero and former classmate, Izuku Midoriya. He was always so determined at UA to be the number one hero that nobody had any doubt that he would manage it. You were always friends through school, but after you graduated, the two of you drifted apart. None of your friend groups truly kept up with each other either, because of busy lives at various hero agencies, so you never really even crossed paths.

But when you got to work with Deku on a joint mission, you had hit it off again, like there had never been any distance between you at all. A year later, you were engaged to be married. And now, a year after that, you are standing in the bridal room looking at yourself in your beautiful wedding gown.

You turn every which way in the mirror to inspect your dress, your jewelry, your shoes, before finally deciding that everything was in place. The ceremony itself is quickly approaching, and you’re just about to step off the platform and head to the main ballroom. But before you can leave, someone you don’t expect comes storming in.

“I have to talk to you,” Kirishima Ejirou declares instantly as he strides towards you. He’s a mutual friend of you and Deku, attending UA and graduating along with both of you. Deku had an easy decision when he chose him to help participate in the wedding.

“Okay, but it’s got to be quick. Can’t be late for my own wedding,” you smile at him.

Kirishima doesn’t share your smile, however. In fact, his eyes seem to darken and narrow a bit, but he shakes it off as he hands you a champagne glass. “Here, thought you might want something to drink first.”

“I’m okay, really - “

“Come on, you’ve got to be a bit nervous,” he coaxes you, still holding out the glass. “This will help calm you down a bit, I promise.”

You pause for a second before reaching out to accept the drink. “Thank you, Eijirou,” you smile at him as you take a drink. “You’re always so thoughtful.”

The champagne is actually quite good, and you find yourself drinking it too quickly, causing your head to swim with dizziness.

“Whoa there, don’t fall over,” Eijirou teases you as he grabs your arm to hold you steady. He helps you down from the platform you were standing on to admire your dress in the mirror, and leads you into a sitting area in the next room.

“Here, sit down for a second,” he lowers you down onto a large couch before sitting beside you. His thigh brushes your own, sending pleasant sensations running up your leg.

“I - I suddenly don’t feel so good,” your voice trembles a bit as the room begins to spin.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Eijirou whispers as he pulls you into his lap. His hand moves to cup your face, finger trailing along your lower lip.

Your brain feels like it’s full of a thick fog, leaving you off balance and unable to process what’s happening. “I can’t be on your lap like this, I have to go - “

“No!” His harsh voice causes you to jump a bit. “I mean, no you don’t,” he says in a much quieter voice. “You don’t need to go because you’re not getting married to Deku.”

“What do you mean? Of course I am! Me feeling a bit weird isn’t going to stop me from marrying the man that I lo-”

“No, you don’t love him,” Eijirou’s hand comes up quickly to cover your mouth and prevent you from finishing your sentence. “You love me, you just haven’t accepted it yet.”

“This is crazy, you’re acting crazy!” You try to pull yourself up, but his fingers dig into your thighs, forcing you back down on his lap and causing you to feel the bulge inside his pants.

“You’re wrong,” he says firmly. “I’m not crazy, just in love.”

You’re struggling even harder now, trying to loosen his firm grip on you. But Eijirou has always been inhumanely strong, and you don’t manage to do anything but grind yourself down on his erection. “You’re not in love with me! And it doesn’t matter anyway, because I’m marrying Izuku.”

“No, you’re not,” he snarls as he hardens his fists, ripping away the lower section of your dress. “I love you, I’ve always loved you. Why am I not good enough?”

You begin to shake in fear and horror as he throws part of your dress away, watching it fall to the floor in a crumpled heap. “It’s not that - “

“Then what is it?” He kisses down the column of your neck, pausing occasionally to nip at your skin with his sharp teeth before lapping at the marks he makes to soothe them. “I’m just as much of a hero as he is, so why did you never look my way?”

He fumbles with the buttons and latches at the back of your dress before finally getting frustrated, tearing the halves of your top apart just as easily as he ripped the train of your dress off. “Just let me prove to you how much I love you, how well I’ll treat you.” He kisses along the tops of your now bare breasts, reaching to cup one of them in a large hand.

As he works one of your nipples with his fingers, he takes the other one into his mouth, grazing gently along it with a sharp tooth before suckling at it until he feels it gets hard.

The room is spinning so wildly now that you feel as if you’re on a merry go round, and you find yourself unable to keep your eyes open. You try to clear the haze from your mind for a second as you ponder what’s wrong with you, before it hits you like a lightning bolt.

The champagne he gave you.

“Did you drug me?” Your voice comes out sounding slurred, as if you’re drunk. “You must have.”

“I wouldn’t have had to if you just accepted my love,” he whispers in a slightly pained voice. “So really, this is your fault that you made me do this.”

His hips are moving now as they hump against your core, and when his clothed cock rubs along your slit, you can’t help but let out a small moan despite yourself.

“See? There it is,” he chuckles in relief, “I knew you wanted me. You just needed a bit of a push.” He sits you down beside him for a few seconds as he hurriedly undresses, removing his suit jacket and shirt first before slipping out of his pants. You glance at the door, wanting to make a break for it while he’s distracted. But instead, you lean your head heavily back against the couch, unable to hold it up on your own.

After he’s naked in front of you, he finishes removing the rest of your dress, marveling at your pretty lacy panties. “These are so cute,” he says as he rubs a finger up your pussy, causing you to tremble. “I’m so glad you’re wearing these for me.”

He lifts you back up, sliding his cock along your folds to lubriate himself. You’re humiliated to realize that despite everything, you’re absolutely soaked. “Please Eijirou, please don’t do this,” you beg your friend to reverse his decision, to stop this madness.

“I promise, it’s going to be okay, you’ll see,” he murmurs as he begins to lower you onto his cock. He’s so thick, and you’re so tight that it seems like he’s not going to be able to fit it inside of you. But he’s determined, making short shallow thrusts as your muscles begin to relax and loosen, aided by the drug that’s making you feel as if you’re floating.

He glances down at one point to see a streak of blood along his length, looking at you in shock. “You were a virgin,” he whispers in awe. “I’m so glad you saved yourself for me.” You no longer have the energy to refute his words. You know it won’t matter anyway.

Now that he’s past your entrance, the rest of his cock goes in easier, your wet walls allowing him to slide in without trouble. When he grazes your cervix with his cock, he stops for a second, allowing you to get used to his size. He coos at you, rubbing his hands along your back and down your stomach. “You’re being so good for me.” He kisses your forehead and pulls your sweaty hair out of your face. “It was always supposed to be like this.”

He grips your hips and begins to bounce you gently, bottoming out inside of you with every thrust while still taking it as slowly as he can. It doesn’t take long for you to begin panting, pussy getting even wetter as you drip along his cock and onto his balls. Your head falls forward, burying your face in Eijirou’s neck. It’s better this way, anyway. This way he won’t see the tears falling from your face.

“Getting a bit sleepy, there, sweetie?” He laughs quietly. “Here, maybe this will be better.” He picks you up and lays you down across the couch, removing his cock just long enough to situate you before he’s plunging back inside. A sharp gasp is pulled from your throat as your walls stretch around him, and he groans.

“Fuck, your pussy is sucking me in so well,” he groans as he laces his fingers with yours, pulling them above your head as he begins to move faster. “Clenching around me like you never want me to pull out.”

He sucks at the pulse point of your neck before biting down, breaking the skin and causing blood to roll in rivulets down past your chest. You whimper in pain at those sharp teeth being buried in the skin of your neck, and the wound stings as his tongue laps at the blood. “That’s going to scar,” he says proudly as he removes his teeth and examines the wound. “And then everyone will know you’re mine.”

His hips smack against yours roughly as he pounds you, your breasts bouncing with every move and the lewd noises of your bodies joining filling the room. “Deku would never treat you this well, would he?” Eijirou’s voice is loud, demanding, almost desperate. “Admit it.”

Your eyes flutter closed again, but he grips your neck firmly until you open your eyes again. “Please admit it,” he whispers, big sad eyes reminding you of a puppy begging for love.

Despite everything, you feel your heart break a little, and you find yourself nodding. His smile returns, the easygoing smile you’ve always liked since the first time you met him. “Tell me you love me, that you’ve - ahh, hgg - that you’ve wanted this for so long.” You feel his pace become a bit erratic, eyes closing for a second before he regains control of himself. “Tell me you love me,” he growls out the demand as he speeds up, shifting his angle to smack against a soft, sensitive spot inside of you. You whine as you feel tension building, seeming to be even stronger because of the drugged weightlessness you’re feeling. You do love him, don’t you? You were always so close, and you’ve certainly said the words to him before.

“I’m doing this for you, sweetie,” he says in a broken voice, that puppy dog look returning to his eyes. “I didn’t want it to be like this, but you left me no choice.” A tear trails down his face, and you find yourself unable to stop yourself from reaching up to wipe it away. “If you had just accepted me from the beginning - “

He reaches down to rub your clit in tight circles when he feels you clench around him, causing sparks of pleasure to run through you. “Sweetheart, just admit it, I need you to admit it,” he’s outright pleading with you now, pace becoming ragged.

“I love you,” you manage to slur out, toes curling and eyes rolling back into your head as you finally climax around him. “I love you, Eijirou.”

“Fuck,” he hisses as his orgasm tears through him at your confession, holding you still as he empties himself inside of you. Not that he has to be very firm with you as you become increasingly weak.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he chuckles a bit as he kisses you, cupping your chin and lifting your head so that he can get more access to your mouth. “See how much better things are when you tell people how you really feel?”

You give a mindless nod at his question. It really is nice, you think, and he feels so warm and strong, holding you as you tremble.

“Now, I have some clothes over there for you. Going to help you put them on, and then we’re leaving. I’ll take you out of here and then you can get some sleep, okay?”

Another tired nod from you. Sleep really did seem good right about now. You feel like you are on a boat rocking back and forth, and your eyes will barely stay open anymore. You feel like you’re forgetting something important, but you just can’t recall it at the moment.

He dresses you carefully before pulling back to admire you with a satisfied smile on his face. “You look so beautiful,” he murmurs as he cups your face and kisses your forehead. He helps you up, heading to the door before he pauses like he forgot something.

“You don’t need anything else here, do you?”

You try to sort through your muddled thoughts, but it gives you a bit of a headache and so you stop trying. “No, not that I can think of.”

He beams at you, a look of pure pride as he wraps his arm around you. “In that case, why don’t we get out of here? Only 30 minutes left, and I want to be gone by then.”

You almost know what he means by 30 minutes, somewhere in the back of your mind. Something that should be important to you.

But then Eijirou, the man of your dreams, is pulling you to the door as he tells you how much he loves you, and you realize that if it truly were important, then you’d remember it.

Wouldn’t you?

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Kinktober: @thewheezingwyvern, @vixen-scribbles, @katsukisprincess, @hisoknen, @trafalgar-temptress, @leeswritingworld, @burnedbyshoto, @bakugotrashpanda, @dee-madwriter, @kittycatkrissa, @reinawritesbnha, @yanderart, @dabilove27, @fae-father, @anxietyplusultra, @flutterfalla, @angmarwitch, @nereida19, @babayaga67, @fromsunnywithlove, @dabis-kitten, @bakugos-cumsock, @yumeneji, @the-grimm-writer, @iwaizumi-chan, @slashersheart, @bunnyywritings, @bakarinnie, @angie-1306, @emplosion22, @lalalemon101, @videogameboiwhowins, @f4nficbaby, @tenkoshimmy, @baroque-baby, @bbyspiiice, @thirstyforthem2dmen, @blissfulignorance2000, @bluecookies02-main

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author-morgan · 3 years

Note

Hi there! So I have a request for Eivor if it hasn't already been requested yet and if you have the time. Since I've started to play the game I love the Cairn stone events. I would love it if you could possibly write something with Eivor teaching his young daughter about them and teaching her how to stack them.

man, i wish i loved the cairns as much as you. i've never wanted to throw my controller through the tv more, not to mention the one i spent almost 2 hours on. but gosh if this isn't super cute, so here you go, Eivor teaches his and your daughter how to stack stones. m!Eivor x fem!Reader

SVANDÍS PROTESTS WHEN you veer from the path leading down to the wharf, instead taking to one of the benches outside the longhouse. Sitting down with a long and heavy sigh, you wipe the sweat from your brow —it is only a spring morning with a cool breeze, but the aches and sniffles from the prior evening have taken hold. Valka will tell you it is a spring fever and that rest, and a good meal is the best remedy, but you have an antsy five-year-old on the verge of tears, tugging at your skirts. “But you promised!” She pouts.

“I know” —you stroke back her blond hair, already in disarray from chasing rabbits— “I know, little one, and I am sorry.” Svandís crosses her arms and looks up at you with those clear blue eyes that are impossible to resist, yet another reflection of her father. You sigh, wiping the dirt from her cheek. Breaking promises never feels good, especially ones made to your young daughter, even if it was to stack stones. “All I need is a few days of rest, and then we can go,” you assure her. Where are you, Eivor?

As though the gods have heard your silent prayers, two long horn blasts echo around Ravensthorpe and the surrounding forests. Shortly after, the longship docks —Eivor and his crew dispersing among the settlement. “Eivor!” You call, waving to him as he nears the longhouse —a smile blossoming on his travel-worn countenance when he sees you and his daughter. Little Svandís darts to her father quick as an arrow. He scoops her up into his arms, pressing short kisses across her cheeks and forehead, laughing as she does. Her arms wrap around his neck as he balances her on his arm.

Eivor places Svandís back on the ground, frowning as he sees the pallor tinting your complexion and the sheen of sweat on your brow. “Are you ill?” He asks, pressing the back of his hand against your forehead before you can give him an answer —your skin is hot to the touch, his frown deepens.

“Spring fever,” you tell him, swatting his hand away, “nothing rest will not solve.” He knows it to be true. A few days rest would see you right as rain, but for now, he’ll take his chances and kiss his wife. Eivor bends down, his lips wind-chapped from the sea and river, but his kiss is gentle and sweet, a way to say I love you without speaking. When he pulls away, he brushes the wisps of hair clinging to your forehead aside and lays a quick kiss there too, sitting next to you.

Svandís’s excitement has already worn away —the pout on her lips is back. If she can’t get her way with you, then she knows her father won’t be able to deny her. “And what is wrong with you, my little shieldmaiden?” Eivor asks, picking Svandís up and setting her on his knee. She crosses her arms, squinting at you —still crestfallen.

“Mama promised she was gonna teach me how to stack stones,” she tells him.

Eivor’s lips curl into a smile beneath his golden beard —longer and shaggier than you are used to seeing. “She was?” Svandís nods. “Well, do you want to know who taught her to stack stones?” He inquires, raising a brow, eyes flitting to you. She looks between you and Eivor, blue eyes wide and questioning. “I did,” he tells her, boastful, smile widening as her arms uncross, already seeing the next question popping into her racing mind. “And my mother taught me when I was just a boy,” Eivor explains.

He strokes back Svandís’s messy braids and looks to you with a wide smile, grateful to have the chance to be the one to teach his daughter the art of making cairns. Eivor reaches for your hand and cranes his head down, blond whiskers tickling your skin before his lips brush against your knuckles. “Let your mother rest, Svandís,” he says, letting your hand go as he stands, shifting Svandís up onto his shoulders, “I know just the spot.”

EIVOR PULLS BACK on the reins of his chestnut horse, bringing the beast to a halt next to a bend in the River Nene. He slides from the saddle, then lifts Svandís, setting her on the riverbank. “First,” he says, freeing a woven sack from his belt, “we must gather our stones.” Crouching down, he picks up a stone, smooth and flat —like a honey cake— and places it in his daughter’s hand, letting her feel the weight and rounded edges. “Look for ones that are smooth and flat,” Eivor explains, knowing those are the ones to make for easy stacking for a young novice. It does not take long for them to fill the small sack with river stones —setting back off for the hilltop.

Cresting the hill reveals a vista to the north, overlooking the river and green rolling hills of Mercia —a calm and quiet place, good for clearing the mind, easing the soul, and stacking stones. Eivor sets Svandís to the ground, lowering the sack of stones too before dismounting —breathing in the crisp spring air, lingering with the scent of wildflowers, honeysuckle, and rain. Eivor eyes the patch of wild daisies growing beneath the shade of an ash tree, thinking they’d make a sweet gift for you to keep bedside.

Turning out the stones, he sits, first watching as Svandís eagerly begins stacking the stones. The short piles fall to shambles with her careless haste, but this is part of the learning process. “Failure is part of it, Svandís,” Eivor consoles when she lets out a frustrated groan, her wobbling tower of stone finally crumbling. He sees his younger self reflected in his daughter’s disappointment, remembering the times when his cairns would teeter and fall. He swore never to bother with them again —his mother laughed, knowing her son wouldn’t be able to stand failing at anything in life. He leans forward, resting a hand on her small shoulder. “Think of it as a test of mind,” Eivor says, tapping her noggin before picking up and reordering the felled stones. “You need patience and perseverance.”

Taking the broadest stone from their collection, he smooths over the ground before them both, knocking away small pebbles and little twigs —creating a good base on which to build. Eivor takes the largest and flattest stone, placing it first. “See?” He says, recalling how his mother first explained it to him. “You want the flattest and largest stones near the bottom to build a strong foundation.” Looking over the scattered stones, he picks another one, setting it atop the first —twisting and flipping to find the best way to place it. He nods for Svandís to try again.

Svandís places another stone atop the two already there, echoing her father’s motion of twisting and turning to find the best place to set it. She looks over her shoulder, seeking assurance and approval, Eivor nods, and the cairn grows taller. Before she places some of the last stones, Eivor stills her hand, hovering over the stack. “Don’t let go until you are certain they will not fall,” he tells her in a low breath. She nods, carefully placing the last three stones. The stack is small —not even reaching the height of his father’s bearded axe— but it stable, unmoving in the wind or Svandís’s excited outburst.

“Just like with everything, it takes practice,” Eivor reminds her, wrapping an arm around her small waist. The first cairns he stacked with his mother and father as a boy were just as unimpressive, but he lived and learned and soon could stack them higher than he was tall. He grins with pride, seeing Svandís smile. “The more you stack, the taller they’ll grow,” he tells her, lifting his hand in the air, “and one day you just might make one tall enough to see the home of the gods.”

Eivor reaches into the small pouch at his hip, pulling out two small red-green apples. “Did Uncle Sigurd ever stack stones with you?” Svandís asks, settling next to Eivor, taking the slice of apple he holds out.

“No,” Eivor laughs, recalling the times Sigurd would bother him while trying to make cairns, “he stole my stones more often than naught and called me troll-toothed.” Svandís giggles. The commotion piques Sýnin’s curiosity from where he circles above on an updraft of wind. Sýnin swoops down, landing on Eivor’s shoulder —the raven’s head tilts this way and that as he observes the short stacks of stones, thinking one to be a good perch. The raven hops down, beats his wings once, and settles atop the last stack Svandís built —preening his blue-black feathers. “Look,” Eivor announces, merry with pride, “you’ve built a cairn sturdy enough for Sýnin to perch.” The raven croaks in agreement, bobbing his head up and down. Svandís leans forward, rubbing Sýnin’s head with one of her fingers, smiling when his croaks turn to soft gurgles.

Looking to the sky, Eivor sees the first dark clouds rolling in from a distance, shrouding part of the sun. It will rain later. “Come, little one,” he says, rising with a soft groan —a reminder he is not so young anymore— “I think it’s time we check on your mother.” He goes to the patch of daisies, taking a handful and severing them from the earth with the throwing axe at his back before whistling to his horse. It is an easy ride back to Ravensthorpe, through the forest, and across a shallow parting in the river.

Stabling the chestnut mare, Eivor kneels outside the fence where Svandís waits, bouncing on her toes. He hands her the small bouquet of daisies so that she may give them to you, though before he can stand, she leaps into his arms, squeezing tight. “Thank you for teaching me, father,” Svandís says, almost a whisper.

Eivor brushes back her hair, kissing his daughter’s forehead, eyes crinkled with his smile. “And I am thankful to have been able to teach you,” he answers, swallowing the lump of heavy emotion rising in his throat. “Now, let's tell your mother about our day,” he says, still smiling, scooping Svandís up when he rises. For a second, Eivor does not move, his gaze skyward to the setting sun, a silent prayer of gratitude on his lips, and a hope that he will live to have many more days like this with his little shieldmaiden.

[ taglist: @angstygunslinger @vanillabeanlattes @withered-poppies @ananriel @itseivwhore @maximalblaze @dynamicorbit @theelvenvalkyrie @xxdearlybeloved @elizabethroestone @elluvians @letsloveimagines @finick94 @wallsarecrumbling @kitkitvm @thedragonqueenfan @callmemythicalminx @edelae @darkravenqueen98 @rhienn-lavellan-rutherford @pat-talks ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Eivor taglist, just let me know!

#Eivor #Eivor Wolfsmal #Eivor x Reader #m!Eivor #m!Eivor x Reader #male Eivor #male Eivor x Reader #Eivor Imagine #Eivor Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Valhalla #Assassin's Creed #my writing #requested #qhbr2013 #im pretty sure i exhausted every curse in the book with those rocks #ive never hated rocks more than when doing this dumb events

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pog-sad-muffin · 3 years

Text

The dreamscape.

Vilbur and Reader pt. 6

!TW! freezing, manipulation, yelling, violence, mentions of blood, feral Tommy!TW!

Hope you enjoy <3

Art credit to: @elevenshaze on twt

-----

Tubbo's POV

I know I am dreaming, I can hear Phil pacing around the room. Soon his pacing fades away.

-entering the dream state-

The sun rests just over the horizon, Tommy is here. We are on the hill that overlooks L'manburg.

"Hey, big man?"

"Yeah what's up?" Tommy answers.

"Will we get our happily ever after? Everyone is talking about how they work towards their happy ending. But I just can't seem to see the end." I say brushing my hair away from my eyes.

"There is no ending because there was never a beginning," Tommy says, his voice getting scratchy.

"What do you mean," I ask, turning to look at him. His eyes are the void and a smile is etched into his face. No! NO! DREAM CANT TAKE HIM FROM ME! please...

Waking up with a start. Sweat dripping down my face, my breathing erratic, and shaking all over. Phil, with a concerned look on his face, swiftly walks up to me.

"Are you alright mate, you look like you just had a nightmare," Phil says softly, sitting down next to me and rubbing circles on my back. I open my mouth but no words come out, my mind racing from what I saw.

"It's ok you don't need to talk about it. Go be with Ranboo, he was worried about you." Nodding, I shakily stand. Walking cautiously down the stairs I make it to the kitchen. Collecting myself I look around for Ranboo. Nope, not in the kitchen, not in the living room. Though Techno is when he notices me peeking into the room he points to the porch. Stepping over to the door I bring it open and looking out. Seeing Ranboo playing with Michael, a lazy smile adorned his face. Smiling softly to myself I walk outside fully and close the door, getting their attention.

"Dad!" Michael yells, wobbling up to his feet he shuffles towards me.

"Hello buddy, how are you?" I ask resting Michael in my lap after I sit down in one of the rocking chairs on the front porch.

"Good, Papa called some people over. Mister Pink looked at me weirdly and Mister Green told Papa to relax so he played with me out here while you were sleeping! We played all these fun games…" my son's voice settling into the background, he thought I was sleeping and Techno saw him… "and then I saw you and you were awake and here!" Michael says finishing his story.

"That's nice, now I need to talk to your Papa for a moment, would you go inside with Phil?" I ask, voice cracking slightly.

"Ok, Dad see you later!" Michael says, jumping up and running inside. We wait a few moments, I'm still sitting on the ground, the cold of the snow no longer bothering me.

Ranboo's POV

I look over at Tubbo when Michael runs inside. His eyes are glassy, and he is still on the ground. After a moment I walked over to him. Sitting down next to him I pull him into a hug. I feel him start to cry, it burns into my chest, but I don't complain. Comforting him I feel myself starting to cry as well. My tears cascading down my face, sizzling and burning down my face. It is snowing now. Tubbo and I don't care anymore, we grasp onto each other and start sobbing. Tubbo let out a cry, one you would hear from someone who just got the news that their last hope had passed.

3rd person POV

Techno is watching the two broken children cry into each other from the window. Something in him breaks in him as well. They shouldn't be in this life of violence, they're only kids. And yet they had suffered so much. He thinks shaking his head. Started when he hears the most heart-wrenching scream from Tubbo. His eyes tearing up, he turns away and walks up to the room where Tommy lays. Phil has long since left the room to comfort Michael. Looking over Tommy, he notices all the details of what had happened. Tommy's lips were dark purple, his exposed skin looked like icy veins crawling up his body, Tommys breathing slow and labored. He is not much better than when Ranboo found him. We don't know why he isn't getting better. Niki should be on her way, unfortunately, she lives far away from Ranboo and Tubbo's house.

Knock knock knock. Phil upon hearing this sets Michael down on the bed, the young child having fallen asleep. Hears the knock and makes his way downstairs. Opening the door, letting Niki inside.

"So where is Tommy? I saw Tubbo was awake." She mentions, taking her winter coat and winter gear off. Grabbing the satchel that was under the coat.

"Good to see you again mate, follow me," Phil says waving his hand towards the stairs. As they make their way up the stairs Niki is looking around, looking for clues to what had happened to the boys. Phil stops at the door opening it for Niki.

"He's on the bed over there," Phil mutters, refusing to make eye contact or look in the room. Niki looks at Phil with sympathy in her eyes before entering. Walking in closing the door softly behind her. Techno once he saw her stood up, knowing her past and her hate against Tommy. Pulling out his ax in a defensive stance.

"Woah, calm down I'm only here to help. Phil called me in," Niki says, trying to calm Techno. Slowly lowering his defensive stance in front of Tommy, who is effectively dying without treatment.

Niki's POV

As I cautiously approach Tommy, I can see the damage of whatever had been done to him. His lips are dark plum and black near the center, his ears are blue and black, his hair was stiff from what seems like the cold Ranboo found him in, his breathing is more like wheezing and pained. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Focusing my eyes back on Tommy I grab the bag that I had brought with me. Opening it I grab my book, my candles, and a heater. Looking over at Techno I ask, "Would you put some coal in here," I hand him the heater. He looks skeptical about it before doing what I asked. As he loaded coal into it, I pulled out my book looking through various supernatural creatures before finding what I was looking for.

“Here!” I shout, after a while, startling Techno. “Sorry,” I say softly when he glares at me.

Hearing a thundering sound running up the stairs, Phil bursts into the room, “Do you know what caused this?!” Phil says frantically. Techno being confused at the question looks between Niki and Phil expectantly.

“He means what creature caused this,” I explain, “I'm a mob expert.”

“HUH! Since when?”

“She has been for a while… Anyway, that's not the point.” Phil says.

“Yes, Phil is right. I found what caused this. It says here-” I say, pointing at a page in my book,”- the only thing that could have caused this would be… A spectator aka a ghost essentialy.” Once I say that Phil and Techno’s eyes go wide and they stare at each other, then Tommy. Their eyes are filled with confusion and terror. And then the realization hit me, we only have two ghosts, and both of them were close to the young boys. But they wouldn't do this… would they?

Tommy's POV

-entering the dream state-

It is warm here, I remember it was cold earlier. Why was it cold again? Eh doesn't matter now that I am warm. A new wave of heat cascades through me, thawing my body into comfort. I am calm, wow when was the last time that happened. Maybe when Tubbo and I were building our bench, Techno and Wilbur watched our back. It was the most peaceful week of work… ever I think.

"Hello?" I hear an echo crossing the room.

"Hello, who are you?" I question back to the voice, not bothering to open my eyes.

"Tommy is that you?" I hear, starting to recognize the voice. Snapping my eyes open, I look around in search of the voice. Y/n they are here, I want to see them again. I miss them.

"Y/n? Where are you?"

"I'm right over here Tommy," they say. I turn around and see them, glowing with their arm stretched towards me, a soft welcoming smile decorated their face. Rushing over to them I tackle them into a hug, crying slightly.

"Hello Big man," they say softly, engulfing the smaller in a hug. I smile through the tears that are free-falling down my face.

"I missed you Y/n," I say, my voice heavy with emotion. Finally, I reluctantly pull away from the hug.

"I have something important to tell you, Tommy…" Y/n says, eyes going downcast and glossing over. "They are trying to take you from me," their voice growing softer, as I grow more confused and I furrow my brows.

"Who is trying to take you? I want to stay with you." I say, standing my ground ready to fight anyone who gets in my way of being with my sibling I was forced to lose.

"They are Tommy you have to stop them…" their voice fading away more as I am being pulled away from them.

"No! Stop! I want to go back! Y/n!" I yelled, reaching desperately towards them, despite me being pulled away.

Waking with a start, all of the warmth from the dreamscape gone. Niki, Techno, and Phil standing over me. They are smiling. Why do they get to be happy? I just want to go home, the place where I belong. With Y/n, Will, Tubbo, and L'manburg. The good days.

"How are you feeling?" Phil asks, my head slowly turning towards him. I throw myself at him, clawing at him. I get a handful of feathers and his hat before Techno and Niki pull me off of him with my arms behind my back. I hear an animalistic growl until I realize it is coming from me. Not that I care they were the ones trying to take me away from Y/n. Phil, who has now fallen onto the floor. Looking at me in shock. I feel my lips curl up to bare my teeth and growl once again.

"Niki what's happening?!" Techno shouts frantically, as I struggle from their grasp. I hear people storming up the stairs. Tubbo and Ranboo slam the door open. They see me and I'm not sure what sparked it but I think it was looking at Ranboo, I never liked him, he took away my friend, and now he is here for Y/n as well. With newfound strength, I launch myself at Ranboo, ripping my grasp away from Techno and Niki. I go to attack him only to be hit with something and thrown off to the side. Looking at where the item was thrown I see a shaking Niki, standing on all fours I growl at them. My hybrid features on display. My tail swishing behind me defensively, my razor-sharp canines bared at all of them, the two joints on my legs ripping through my pants near the joints.

"Hey… Tommy, Big man calm down…" Tubbo says cautiously sidestepping towards me, in response, I let out an unnerving growl that makes everyone flinch in response.

"Niki! What is going on!" Techno growls, furiously.

"I don't know this isn't supposed to happen! Though there is a chance that the spector had said something to him!" she says, looking through her book frantically trying to find an answer.

"What do you mean! There is a chance! What could they have said'' Phil yells, I ignore them focusing on Ranboo. Tensing my legs and lowering myself onto the ground I feel something fall from my mouth.

"Umm… Phil what is dripping from his mouth," Tubbo asks, voice quivering. Suddenly everyone's attention is on me again. I let out another growl, more of the goop falling from my mouth, looking at it this time I see it is a black-looking slime. Hearing someone step closer to me, my head snaps at them. I let out a roar. Tubbo and Niki are staring at me in fear, Phil is staring in shock, and Techno in distress. I lunge at Ranboo once more this time reaching for his horn with the reached ring on it. Tubbo shrieks when he sees what I'm going for, and he jumps at me. I make it to my target and start yanking on his horn trying to rip it off, so he will let me see Y/n again. Tubbo hits me off, falling to the floor with a whimper. Techno and Phil rush to restrain me, Niki rushes to Ranboo to check on what I hurt. I see Ranboo reach for his horn and realize the ring is gone.

"My ring is gone! Did it fall off!?" Ranboo asks, I plant myself onto the ground. It's not like I needed to, I have two people keeping me on the ground. Smirking, I look Ranboo in the eyes.

"Tommy where is it!" He yells at me, part of his jaw unhinging. I close my mouth tighter, locking my jaw.

"Guys… I think it's in his mouth." Tubbo says, noticing my jaw tense.

"How? We didn't see it?!" Niki says, baffled. She runs over to Techno and Phil, something in her hand.

I feel something cold touch my neck as the world fades to dark.

-entering dreamscape-

"Tommy are you ok?!" I hear Y/n yell when they see the state I'm in.

"I wanted to come back… they are the enemy…" I mumble my words slurred.

"Ah... I see what happened. I'm so glad you came back," they say, picking me up into a soft warm hug. Just like Mum used to do. Feeling the familiar warmth return.

"Don't worry Big man I will protect you," they say. I feel warmth flood my being and patterns scorching into my body. I didn't mind though it felt nice.

"They're going to sting when you wake once more, but don't worry I will always be here when you go to sleep." I nod limply.

"Want to see them?" Parking up at this I nod once more, not finding the energy to speak. A mirror appears in front of me. I have marks up and down my back and arms. They have symbols that look like, "⋔⊬ ⌿⎍⌿⟟⌰" I feel myself fading out of dream world into a deep sleep.

"Y/n would you stay with me?"

"Of course my pupil."

-----

Thank you for reading, don't be shy if you have a recommendation🖤

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 3 years

Text

In My Dreams Tonight

for @chaotic-bard who asked me for some fluff!

have a soulmates that dream about each other au featuring both a modern au and the canon universe!

brought to you by “Dreams Tonite” by Alvvays

---

“You’re nothing but trouble, bard,” the tall man glared from atop his horse. He always seemed to be glaring or glowering or huffing, the man in Jaskier’s dreams. The familiar stranger wore his long white hair pulled halfway back and he had golden eyes, the pupils of which were slit up the center like a cat’s. His name, Jaskier had learned after the third straight week of seeing him every night, was Geralt of Rivia. A Witcher, apparently, whose job it was to hunt down monsters.

“Ah, but what a lovely piece of trouble I am!” Jaskier replies. And he’s rather sassy himself in these dreams. Far more clever and ready to fight than he is when he’s awake. “You would miss me if I left, wouldn’t you, Geralt?”

“Hmm.”

The stranger hums a lot. He glares and he hums. Jaskier’s heart stutters frightfully in his chest whenever the man smiles, though. The sight is rare. Geralt has smiled perhaps three times in the past two months.

“Where are we going today?”

“Werewolf outside of town. You’re staying at the inn, where I know you can’t get into… nevermind. You can get into trouble anywhere.”

There’s a lightly teasing tone to the stranger’s voice that Jaskier hasn’t really heard before. He likes it. He craves more of it. He tosses and turns in his sleep, his skin damp with sweat. The dream goes on.

“Geralt, please,” he whines, “I can’t write ballads about monsters I haven’t seen! Or fights I did not attend! That’s lying to my audience, Geralt, and I simply won’t do it. I must go with you.”

“Drop it, Jaskier,” the man snarls. Jaskier feels sad. Incredibly sad.

Rejected?

“Gera-”

“I said drop it, bard.”

Jaskier wakes up feeling a little heartbroken and he yearns to be held. His pillow holds the fading scents of leather and wood-smoke. The sight of a pine sapling at the dog park makes him tear up.

He starts to wear the color yellow out of nowhere and his taste in jewelry switches from gold to silver.

When his best friend asks him about the recent changes, he cannot answer.

---

Geralt pours himself a mug of tea and shakes his hair out of his face. He’s been having odd dreams lately, things that feel familiar but manage to stay just out of his conscious grasp. Someone important is waiting for him. Someone he love and cares about and needs.

Geralt doesn’t really buy into the concept of soulmates, but he does understand instinct. He knows to trust his gut. He knows to listen and start paying attention when the same haunting blue eyes creep into his dreams every night for six months, plaguing him in the waking hours by refusing to give up their owners’ identity.

He wipes a hand down his face and sighs loudly into the otherwise empty studio apartment. “Fuck me, I gotta figure this shit out. I gotta talk to Yen.”

Talking to himself has always helped him calm down. He does it again, just to hear his own low voice scraping through the silence.

“I gotta see what’s going on with my head. These dreams are… getting to be a bit much, even for me.”

He nods to no one in particular and goes to text his best friend and coworker.

---

Jaskier hops off the bus and carries his guitar case down to the coffee shop on the corner. Finally, he’s managed to get a gig that wasn’t through the university.

He sets up his stuff in the tiny alcove the shop treats as a stage and watches as a few customers stroll around near the counter, waiting for their drinks or reading through the menu, hovering just far away enough from the line to keep others from growing confused.

He loves people watching.

Once everything is ready to go and the light outside the window has dimmed a bit, indicating early evening has finally arrived, he pulls his guitar onto his lap and strums through a few quick chords.

“Rode here on the bus,

Now you're one of us.

It was magic hour,

Counting motorbikes on the turnpike;

One of Eisenhower's.”

“Live your life on a merry-go-round;

Who starts a fire just to let it go out?”

He watches a particularly handsome man with broad shoulders and a vintage denim jacket approach the counter. Jaskier adds a haunting, well-practiced lilt to his voice as he goes into the chorus, hoping to get his attention:

“If I saw you on the street,

Would I have you in my dreams tonight?

If I saw you on the street,

Would I have you in my dreams tonight, tonight?”

An equally beautiful woman with long, curly black hair approaches the denim-clad angel and whisks him towards a table nearby. She settles with her back to Jaskier, leaving him with a decent view of the man’s sharp, lightly stubbled jaw, glittering eyes, and severe white ponytail. He’s gorgeous.

He’s also uncomfortably familiar.

Jaskier continues to perform, trying to identify his attractive mystery man the whole time and failing miserably.

---

“He’s everywhere, Yen. I feel like I could identify him by scent if I got close enough. I can’t remember his name, though. Or the color of his hair. I don’t know his face, only his eyes. It’s driving me crazy.”

“Have you talked to Dr. deStael about it?”

“Yeah, but she said this kind of thing is normal. Recurring dreams often help us sort out our trauma or something like that. I don’t know. I don’t feel traumatized by this guy I feel… protective of him. Maybe even like I love him?”

“Hmm.”

“Hey, that’s my line.”

“Shut up for a minute, this live music actually slaps and I want to listen to it. Then we can discuss your weird possessive tendencies towards your dream boyfriend.”

Geralt takes a slow sip of his coffee and glances up at the singer off to their left, perched on a barstool with his guitar held carefully on his lap. His voice is soft but somehow bright. Geralt finds himself utterly entranced.

“On the weird guitar;

Said you'd go to work

In the waking hour.

In fluorescent light,

Antisocialites watch a wilting flower.”

“Live your life on a merry-go-round;

Who builds a wall just to let it fall down?”

The lyrics are strange and hold a dream-like quality to them. They draw a picture in Geralt’s head, something dark and heavy and oddly hollow. He has another sip of coffee and tries to ignore the feeling of panic welling up inside him. He glances at Yennefer to see if she’s picked up on his mood, but her violet eyes are focused on the singer and his nimble fingers as he continues to play and sing.

When he glances up towards their table and their eyes meet, Geralt loses the ability to breathe.

That shade of cornflower blue was…

Couldn’t be…

Had to be…

The gorgeous, feathery tenor continues to fill the air, whirling pleasant notes past his ears and deep into his subconscious. Geralt knows that voice. He’s heard this man laugh and sing and cry and scream a thousand different times. Through a handful of different lives. Geralt knows that face, those hands, those strong legs and long arms and blue fucking eyes. He’s held this singer in his arms every night for centuries, feeling his breathing as they both drift off to sleep.

He has protected this man and been protected by him in return. He has kissed and been kissed, caressed and been caressed. The two men sitting across from each other in the coffee shop physically embody an endless cycle of love. It has been bound up in the souls of two no-longer strangers. Geralt knows that he knows this man.

He knows Jaskier.

Petal pink lips continue to form soft words and slender hands keep plucking at vibrating guitar strings:

“Don't sit by the phone for me,

Wait at home for me, all alone for me.

Your face was supposed to be

Hanging over me, like a rosary.”

Geralt stands suddenly, startling Yennefer but not the performer, even though he’s clearly just as shocked as Geralt about this recent development.

Their mutual realization.

“So morose for me,

Seeing ghosts of me,

Writing oaths to me,

Is it so naïve to wonder…”

Geralt crosses the room to the edge of the stage in three quick strides. Yennefer is close behind him, her latte just as abandoned as his coffee at their table. She grabs her friend’s arm as if to stop him from doing something violent, but when he doesn’t struggle against her grip she lets it go again easily.

“Geralt?” the musician asks.

“Jaskier?” Geralt replies. The guitar is placed quickly to the side and a pair of incredibly familiar arms are thrown around the taller man’s neck. Geralt hugs back just as firmly, his arms flung low around the brunette’s waist. Geralt knows that this is Jaskier’s favorite way to be embraced; he doesn’t know how he’s aware of that fact, but it comes to the front of his mind clear as day.

“Holy shit,” Jaskier breathes, leaning back to stare Geralt in the face. One of his string-calloused fingers traces down over Geralt’s eyelid and cheek and he cocks his head to the side. “No scar?”

“No,” Geralt shakes his head. “Not this lifetime, I guess.”

“Were we? Are we- are we, you know...?”

“Yeah,” Yen beams, adding her two cents from the sidelines. “I think so. Congrats, boys. This is one of those one in a million chances and you’ve gone and done it.”

“Done what?” Geralt asks. Jaskier tosses his head back and laughs. His happiness rings out through the cafe like a struck bell and Geralt’s heart stutters frantically. He really does love this man already. Wholeheartedly and without fear. “What have we done, Yen?”

“As obtuse now as you were then,” Jaskier chides affectionately. “Soulmates, my love. We’ve been bound by the red string of fate and ta-da! Here we are. Again, apparently.”

“Yes, okay,” Geralt breathes, nosing his way along Jaskier’s jaw with giddy determination. He presses a quick and wholly welcome kiss to the bard’s lips. “That makes sense.”

“Do you... do you want me again? This time around?” Jaskier asks, fingers fiddling with one of the ties on Geralt’s hoodie. A pair of chapped lips press against his again and he sighs into it, melting against his no-longer-Witcher.

“Yes. And the next one, as well.”

#bouncey's sappy hours #geraskier #geraskier fluff #yen #yennefer #yenerference kinda #getting together #soulmate au #prophetic dreams #geraskier soulmate au #geraskier soulmates #shared dreams #modern au #geraskier modern au #kissing #first kiss #magically getting together #prompt fill

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holidaywishes · 3 years

Text

Dusk Till Dawn

Requested: 👍

Summary/Request: 22 of the music prompts with Matthew Tkachuk please? “but you’ll never be alone / i’ll be with you from dusk till dawn” (dusk till dawn, zayn & sia) for @chuckythepest

Warning: fluff, maybe some angst, soft smut (I’ll be honest, I changed my mind about having a bit of smut in here or not and it’s not much but it’s there, so...)

Author’s Note: I’m sorry it’s taken me a little bit longer to write but hopefully it gives you what you’re looking for. I’ve never listened to this song so much in my life; I had it playing on repeat as I wrote this so I could really get a feel of what to write. My friend is a huge Matthew Tkachuk fan, really a huge Flames fan in general, but I have to admit I had to watch a lot of interviews to get a feel for the guy. I also wasn’t sure if I wanted it to be an angsty fic or a fluffy one because the song kinda has both vibes so honestly, it’ll be an adventure for the both of us. If you enjoyed this one, here’s the entire list of prompts. Feel free to send your requests through! Stay Golden, loves <3!

masterlist

the other masterlist

You had been on a vacation with a few of your friends in Cancun for about a week when you got the news that everything was going into lockdown

“What does this mean?” your friend, Beth, asked as she paced around the hotel room

“It means that everyone has to stay inside for a bit” you said

“No, what does that mean for us?” she asked again

“I guess it means that we have to isolate when we get home” another of your friends, Jenna, replied as she dropped onto the bed

“I wouldn’t have left if I knew we were gonna come back to a total nationwide, international lockdown!” Melanie, your childhood friend shouted frantically

“Okay, everyone calm down...” you sighed, “we knew this was a possibility, as much as we might want to say that we didn’t, we knew that we could get home and everything would be shut down”

“So what do we do?” Beth asked

“We...” you stammered, not having the answers but trying your best to stay calm, “we listen. We do what we’re told -- isolate, quarantine, get tested, all of it -- and then hopefully it’ll be over soon.” Your words were like a curse because as soon as you got back to St. Louis, the world seemed crazier than it ever was. Months went by and nothing changed. People were still getting sick, still dying, and there were still people who thought it was all a hoax. Birthdays were spent apart, friends stopped making an effort to keep in touch and it made everything feel... cold and sad. The only thing that seemed to make any sense was your friendship with Matthew.

“What’s up kid?” he texted one day after a particularly hard week and you just about broke down in front of your phone screen

“I lost my job...” you sent back

“Ah shit, I’m sorry”

“It’s fine but thank you”

“It’s not fine”

“I mean, no, but it’s not like it’s just me. Half of the world has lost their jobs”

“That doesn’t mean you have to be all fine about it”

“Matt, seriously, it’s fine”

“You say that now and then two days from now you’ll get pissed about someone else getting promoted”

“I wouldn’t do that”

“Not on purpose but stress can do things to a person...”

“I’ll be fine but thank you for caring so much”

“Anytime!” you smiled at his concern before changing the subject, checking in with his family, asking him about what was going to happen with the season, “I have no idea... everything is still shut down until further notice”

“I hope things get better by Christmas”

“At the rate things are going, I don’t think they will”

“Way to stay positive, Tkachuk” you scoffed to yourself

“It’s what I do 😜” the conversation didn’t last long after that and you went on a spiral of looking and applying for jobs; everything came crashing down when you’re grandpa got sick and you couldn’t visit him. You called the hospital every day, not wanting your grandpa to be alone, but they wouldn’t let you in, ‘protocols’ they said

“I don’t know what to do, Matt” you sobbed over the phone

“Relax,” he tried, “we’ll get you in there”

“They won’t let me in!” you argued, raising your voice in anger, “he’s dying and they won’t let me see him...”

“I can make sure you see him.”

Matthew’s P.O.V

You were trying your best to get (Y/N) into the hospital to see her grandpa but it was taking a lot more effort than you thought

“Please,” you begged the doctor, “he doesn’t have anyone else. She’s not getting any answers and she just wants to see him, even if it’s to say goodbye”

“I’m sorry. I can’t break the rules for your girlfriend” the doctor replied

“No--” you stammered, trying to backtrack, “she’s not my girlfriend. She’s my best friend and she wants to see her grandfather”

“I can’t break protocols for one person. We’re doing everything we can to keep him healthy and if we invite guests inside, it puts our patients at risk,” the doctor explained, “maybe we can set up a Zoom call”

“If he dies and she isn’t there, she will blame herself for the rest of her life”

“I’m sorry. I don’t have a choice...” you angrily hung up the phone, throwing it to the side while you thought up a plan before calling (Y/N).

“The doctor said no...” you said solemnly

“What?” she whimpered, “Matt, he can’t be alone there. In a hospital, he needs to be with people who love him”

“They said they have protocols,” you added, “but we can sneak in there...”

“Sneak into a hospital?” she scoffed, “Matthew, we’re not spies. We can’t sneak into a hospital during a pandemic”

“Just trust me”

“What happens if we get caught? If we get in trouble?”

“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it”

“I can’t le--”

“Just trust me” you interrupted, convincing her that everything would be okay and ending the call. You made your way to the hospital where (Y/N)’s grandpa had been checked into and asked around about how someone could have visitors

“They’d have to be tested before they came and then retested, temperature checked, when they got here,” a nurse explained, “and then they’d have to sit behind a barrier with a mask on. It wouldn’t be any different than most other places -- we’re following the same guidelines and restrictions, we just have to be 10 times as careful because we have lives at stake”

“But if a family member did all that, the tests and followed the guidelines, they could come visit?” you asked, feeling like you might be getting close to a solution

“Hypothetically?” she started, “it’s possible but there would be a time limit. Maybe 10 minutes maximum and even that’s pushing it”

“I can work with that!” you smiled under your mask and rushed out of the hospital, texting (Y/N) about what needed to be done, the two of you rushing to a testing facility as fast as possible and waited impatiently for the results. When both of your results came back negative, you told her you’d make a call and get her in to see her grandpa; she hugged you tightly before a tear fell from her eye onto your exposed collarbone. “He’s gonna be okay” you whispered

“Thank you,” she replied, keeping her arms wrapped around your neck, “for doing all this for me”

“I know how much he means to you” you smiled at her when she finally let go of you, her eyes softening at your words. You and (Y/N) met when your dad was drafted to St. Louis and had been friends ever since, celebrating each others successes as the years went by. Her grandparents raised her after her mom died and her dad took off, she was only six years old; her grandma died two years later so it was (Y/N) and her grandpa against the world. They were inseparable and she would’ve done anything for him -- including letting you sweet talk a group of nurses to get her into a hospital during a global pandemic. You watched as she made her way down the hallway, the lack of visitors and laughter making everything suddenly feel real, she stopped in front of a large glass door clutching onto the coat that she held in her hands as she waited for someone to let her in. A doctor finally let her in but stayed close by, pulling her out after 10 minutes had passed, not a second more, “come on, man,” you begged, “let her have a little bit more time”

“I can’t” he replied before looking at (Y/N), “I really am sorry.” She nodded at the doctor before looking back toward her grandpa’s room and tucking herself into your side as you made your way out of the hospital. You started to drive her home but after miles of silence, she asked if you could take her to the park where the two of you used to sneak out to

“Yeah, sure” you agreed, keeping your voice soft and letting her rest her head against the window for the remainder of the ride. When you pulled up in front of the park and parked the car, you looked at (Y/N) noticing a stream of dried tears on her cheeks before she swung open the car door and ran to the swings. She did this every once in a while, tried to ignore her pain and focus on putting a smile on someone else’s face by pretending she was fine. You could always tell that she wasn’t fine but you couldn’t always bring her out of it, “(Y/N)...” you sighed

“Come on, Matty!” she called, pushing herself on the swing to see how high she could get, “let’s see if you can get higher than me!”

“(Y/N).. we don’t have to do this. We could just sit and talk if you wanted to...”

“Why? I wanted to come to the park to play, not to talk,” she challenged, “if I wanted to talk, I would’ve gone home or to your place...” you exhaled as you walked toward the free swing beside her, your eyes following her as they tried to catch a glimpse of her face; trying to gauge whether or not she was crying. She didn’t stay on the swing too much longer, instead choosing to jump onto the Merry Go-Round

“You’re gonna spin on this now?” you scoffed

“No,” she answered with a laugh, laying down on the cold metal, “you’re going to spin me and I’m gonna see how long it takes me to get dizzy.. Just like we used to do.” You obliged, letting the sound of her laughter fill the air while the old playground equipment squeaked below her. As you kept spinning her, you noticed that her once happy laughter had been replaced by whimpers and you fought to slow down the Merry Go-Round

“(Y/N)?” you asked as you rushed to her, “what’s wrong? what happened?”

“He’s all alone, Matt...” she cried, “you should’ve seen him, he was so weak and I just wanted to hug him and tell him everything was going to be okay but I don’t think he’s going to be okay...”

“Shhh,” you tried to calm her sobs, letting her head fall onto your shoulder, “I’m here”

“I don’t want him to be alone... I don’t want to be alone” she sobbed

“You’re not alone...” you whispered and she looked up at you, her eyes flooded with tears, “you’ll never be alone...” you could tell by the way she looked at you that she wanted you to kiss her but you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything, fearing that she was too vulnerable and you’d be taking advantage of her. So, you continued to hold her instead, for as long as she needed but when she lifted her head up from your shoulder to look at you once more, she made the first move, pressing her lips onto yours as dusk set in and the two of you were the only sound either of you could hear. Your lips moved in sync with hers as your hands laid firmly on her sides; rolling her onto her back slowly so she didn’t hit her head. Her hands roamed to the top of your zipper, pushing the slider down before you tore it off your body quickly, leaving her lips for just a second to throw the fabric behind you. As much as you wanted this to happen, you were still being careful and she could feel your hesitation

“What’s wrong?” she asked

“Nothing,” you lied, “I just want to make sure you’re okay with this. That you’re not just doing this because you’re upset...”

“I know what I’m doing, Matt” she smiled.

When Matt started to drive you home, you asked him to redirect you to the park the two of you used to go as kids; so you could feel a little less like the world was falling apart

“Yeah, sure” he said softly before your head fell against the window as you waited for him to pull up to the park. You had managed to keep your crying quiet enough that, when he saw you, Matt was surprised to see the stream of tears on your cheeks. You pressed your lips together before you rushed out of the car toward the old swing set, jumping on and trying to get as high off the ground as possible

“(Y/N)...” Matt sighed and the tone of his voice was all too familiar so you ignored it

“Come on, Matty!” you laughed when you called to him, “let’s see if you can get higher than me!”

“(Y/N).. we don’t have to do this. We could just sit and talk if you wanted to...” he tried but you shook your head. You just wanted to forget what you’d just seen, forget about what was happening, forget that you might have to be alone again and you really didn’t want to be alone again

“Why?” you urged, “I wanted to come to the park to play not to talk. If I wanted to talk I would’ve gone home or to your place...” he finally walked to the swing next to you and began pumping his legs to meet your height before you could feel him watching you, leading you to hop off the swing and head to the next piece of equipment from your childhood; the Merry Go-Round.

“You’re gonna spin on this now?” Matt scoffed as he followed you to the metal death trap that you climbed on

“No,” you replied, chuckling at his question before lying down, your exposed skin meeting the cold metal below you, “you’re going to spin me and I’m gonna see how long it takes me to get dizzy.. Just like we used to do.” He compressed his lips and did as you asked, spinning you quickly and you laughed as you got increasingly dizzy with every turn before your grandpa’s face popped into your head; tears overcoming you as whimpers left your lips. Matt quickly dug his feet into the ground to stop the Merry Go-Round

“(Y/N)? What’s wrong?” he rushed to you, pulling you close to him, “what happened?”

“He’s all alone, Matt,” you cried as you remembered your grandpa in the hospital. He was all you had and the idea of him not being with you terrified you, “you should’ve seen him, he was so weak and I just wanted to hug him and tell him everything was going to be okay but I don’t think he’s going to be okay...” you shook your head frantically at the thought

“Shhh..” he hushed you, letting your head fall on his shoulder, “I’m here”

“I don’t want him to be alone... I don’t want to be alone” you sobbed

“You’re not alone,” he whispered and you felt his body move closer to yours, just to close the space between you, your eyes continuing to brim with tears, “you’ll never be alone.” Whether it was your fear of being alone, of losing the only person who had ever loved you, or if you just wanted to be close to someone, anybody, you looked up at Matt with soft eyes, hoping he’d make a move. But he didn’t. He just held you and, as nice as it was, it wasn’t what you wanted. You lifted your head once more, this time moving your lips closer to his as the sky filled with the dark hues of dusk, his breath brushing across your skin before your lips connected with his. He pressed his hand against your waist as he kissed you slowly, your lips parting just enough for his tongue to inch into your mouth before he shifted his body to lay your back onto the Merry Go-Round, holding your head with his free hand so you didn’t hurt yourself. Your hands found their way to the zipper of his hoodie, sliding it down and pushing the fabric from his arms and he left the kiss just for a second to easily throw away his hoodie, leaning back over you while you waited for him to continue kissing you but he pulled away

“What’s wrong?” you asked, sitting up as he did and you leaned against his back

“Nothing...” he said but you could tell he was lying, “I just want to make sure you’re okay with this. That you’re not just doing this because you’re upset...”

“I know what I’m doing, Matt” you scoffed and he turned his head back to you

“I know you do,” he smiled, kissing your nose playfully, “I just want you to know that you don’t have to”

“I want to” you replied, placing your hand on the side of his face to bring him closer to you, pressing your lips against his and twisting his body back on top of yours. You melted into each other, your breathing in sync as you undid the button of his jeans, setting him free before his hands drifted to push your leggings down. His lips trailed to your neck as he pushed himself into you, eliciting a quiet moan from you and a growl from him when you dug your nails into his skin. You tried not to make too much noise, worrying that the park was still too close to the neighbouring houses, but every once in a while you whined out a curse word

“Fuck,” Matthew moaned out before you could, “oh god” he grunted against your neck as he continued to pump in and out of you, your back arching to gain more friction

“Shit,” you whimpered, “fuck.” His speed increased and you giggled when you heard the Merry Go-Round start to squeak

“Shh” he chuckled

“I’m sorry” you laughed back, trying to focus more on the pleasure than the noise and after a few minutes, Matt released inside you and rolled to the side. You curled up beside him, placing your hand on his chest before you fell asleep next to him. You woke up with the dawn, letting Matt sleep while you watched the Sky lighten

“Good morning” he cooed, kissing your shoulder as he sat up

“Good morning,” you smiled, turning to lay a kiss to his lips, “we should probably get out of here before someone rats us out” he laughed but nodded in response, grabbing his hoodie from the ground and wrapping it around you. You watched him drive smoothly through the streets and you smiled to yourself

“What?” he smirked

“Nothing,” you replied, “I just... like you a whole lot”

“That so?” He chuckled to himself

“Yeah”

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing I like you a whole lot, too.” He reached out his hand to interlock his fingers with yours and a flush of heat ran through your body. He had managed to make you forget about everything for a while and you were grateful to him for that but you were still scared that you’d end up alone in the long run. “Hey,” he said, seemingly catching your eyes fall to your lap, “I meant what I said last night”

“What?” You replied, furrowing your brow

“You’ll never be alone. I’ll always be here for you”

“Thank you,” you smiled, dropping your head on the headrest, “for everything.”

“Any time” he smirked, bringing your hand up so he could kiss it while the two of you drove silently back to his house.

#Matthew Tkachuk #Matthew Tkachuk fic #Matthew Tkachuk imagine #Matthew Tkachuk request #Matthew Tkachuk prompt #Song Prompt #Music Prompt #dusk till dawn #dusk till dawn prompt #ZAYN and sia #request #fic request #imagine request #prompt request #song prompt request #masterlist #the other masterlist #hockey #nhl

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partywithgyu · 3 years

Text

In The Pines.

🌙Members: Kang Taehyun and Huening Kai.

🌙Genre: Horror. More like, spooky.

🌙Tag: One shot.

🌙W/C: 2300+

🌙Summary: Taehyun had a dream. It was a lucid dream or rather a lucid nightmare. Along with him was his friend, Kai. Stuck in a lucid nightmare he can't manipulate, Taehyun has to deal with the horrifyingly weird happenings. He could get stuck in the nightmare only for that night, right?

‹•.•›

Taehyun woke up in a dimly lit room.

He looked down at himself, dressed in the silk sleepwear he wore to bed that night. So soft was the blanket he pushed away and his feet touched the ground. It was red but not a deep shade unlike the roses in the vase, on the white old fashioned dresser. Few steps towards it he took. Stopping at a distance, small, he looked into the mirror. He saw the reflection of the open window behind him, revealing the sky so enigmatic. No, he couldn't see his own self in the mirror for he was in a lucid dream.

He did what one would if they were left to control a dream. He left to explore. His feet rushed past the tall bedroom door, down the stairs to the lower floor. He looked to the left then to the right. All around him were doors. No furniture, just doors. In the dimly lit room, he could see that the walls were of a pale shade. The doors were dark, with dull gold detailing. Confusion arose as he looked around. "Which door shall I go through?" The one straight ahead he chose. Opening it had consequences. Cold fingers wrapped around his wrist and he was dragged away. The face was familiar, but difficult to identify with the flashing lights. He could've looked over it for more time to try to recall the person's identity. If only there were blinding lights calling out for his gaze.

Here and there he looked. Around him was chaos. Chaos was created by the people stomping around, screaming on top of their lungs, words he couldn't quite make out. They looked so dead. As if their eyes never once saw life. Holding in their hands, sources of colorful lights they pointed it around. Truly it was headache inducing. This was a lucid dream, he remembered. For it was lucid, he could control it. He believed he could manipulate it. So, he turned to face a wall.

"Taehyun," called out a familiar voice making him feel relieved. He could recognize the voice to be of his best friend Huening Kai. He would turn to a different scene, he thought. No. He turned to see a familiar face in a scene growing more violent. He looked into his friend's worried eyes. Kai's eyebrows were furrowed, his cheeks stained with tear marks. "We have to get out of here," he said in a tone so pleading that Taehyun immediately held onto his hand.

"Kai. Where do we go?" he asked, even more terrified as he noticed blood on the faces on the people. Now they held a weapon each in their hands once free. "Door. We have to get out of this mansion," replied Kai in a hushed tone. The last thing they needed was being charged at by the lifeless people. Twisting the knob, Kai opened the door. He dragged Taehyun out of there.

Once again all around them were doors. They looked at each other. "How do we get out of here?," asked Taehyun. Breathing in and out, Kai looked around before looking at the shorter friend. "It has to be one of these doors right?," he said with a hint of nervousness in his tone. Taehyun nodded before hesitantly reaching for the other door. The door opened to reveal a mirror. Their reflection didn't exist. "Next door," said Kai before reaching out to the other door. He was rushing because the longer they stayed in the creepy mansion, the most afraid he was of whatever could happen next. Rather, whoever could come to them.

The third door was pushed open by Taehyun. The young men narrowed their eyes, when bright light fell on them. It was a dimly lit room with a table at the centre. On the table was a cage and in the cage a very bright being. It looked like a fairy, that's what Kai thought at least. "Oh no. Has she trapped you two too?," asked the creature in a concerned tone. "Who?," the two of them asked at the same time. "The evil witch. The one who has caged me." They shared a look before shaking their heads, slowly. "We haven't met any evil--" "Oh good. You should escape before she returns." "How?" "I wish I knew. A window? Something. As long as you two escape to the pines, you're good."

"The pines?," asked Kai. "Yes. Outside this mansion is a long road. At the end of the road are the pines. That's the only place she can't get you two," said the bright little creature. "As you walk down the road, do not talk to anyone else you come across. Do not believe anyone you come across." Taehyun gulped. The warning made him fearsome of what they would have to encounter on the walk. That's when they hear a small sound at the corner of the room. "Go! Go!" On hearing the fairy-like creature scream those words, Kai shut the door. It was for a split second that Taehyun felt guilty for not setting the creature free. However at times like that, one's own survival has to be prioritized. In this case, both their survival. Silently, he promised himself that he wouldn't leave behind Huening Kai no matter what.

"Not again," they heard a scream from upstairs. Taehyun turned to the staircase. It sounded like a boy just like him. Someone, who seemed rather frustrated. "We should go," said the other boy before opening another door. Oddly to their convenience, the door led to the outside. "Outside?," he asked Kai who nodded at him before stepping out. Taehyun followed.

The front yard looked ruined by chaos. Taehyun made the observation as the two young men walked to the main gate. The swings were broken. The merry-go-round was once painted with colors he could tell. Aesthetic, it would be to some. To Taehyun, it was chilling. To be present in a scene, under the purple sky, in a place unknown. He wanted to go back to the world he knew. He wanted to wake up.

"You told me I would be able to control the dream," he said to Kai.

"I told you it would take practice," reminded the accused man with a hint of nervousness in his tone.

Kai was right. He was told that. But he didn't expect this to be the outcome. "Why am I lost in a nightmare?" The last thing he wanted to do was walk on the spooky road that they were walking on. At least there were streetlights. "It's alright. It'll get done today. It's only for tonight," muttered the taller guy, walking ahead. "Right. It's just for tonight. I'll wake up soon." He picked up the pace to catch up with the taller boy. He felt better about walking next to him. "How do I wake up?," he questioned. Kai looked at him. "Oh. It's easy. We just have to reach the pines. That'll be the end of the adventure, you see."

Not knowing much about how lucid dreams work, Taehyun just nodded. That's all he could do anyway. Walking to the pines wouldn't be that difficult, he thought. Then, he saw someone sitting on the bench, at the bus stop. He noticed first the small golden ornaments hanging on the tip of a tall, pointed hat. It was a clown. A creepy smile was painted onto his face. The one that extended upto his cheeks. Taehyun clinged to Huening Kai. "Stop," he whispered. Huening Kai did as told. He turned to Taehyun with worry in his eyes. "We'll be fine as long as we don't talk to him. He'll disappear if we do that. After all, this is a dream," he reminded softly. "I know."

"Know what?," asked the clown in a high pitched voice. He was heading to them, on his hands, upside down. It was horrifying, his gaze. "Ignore." reminded Taehyun to Kai. A small nod from Kai, then they started walking ahead. It was going to be a long walk with a clown behind them.

"Tell me. Tell me. I wanna know."

"Oh! Let me guess! You know that you're headed the wrong way?"

"My! My! The pines are the other way! Poor boys!"

"You're so lost without your mom. Don't worry, children. I'll help you find them!"

"Wow! Did she tell you to not talk to strangers?"

"I am not a stranger. Look at me. Don't you know me? Take a look. Take a look."

"Look! Is that a shark in the sky?."

"Ah! Fooled you!"

"Don't act like you didn't fall for it."

"Why did the mushroom go to the party? Because it was a fun guy!"

The clown wouldn't shut up. More than terrifying it was annoying. So, very annoying. It was shocking when the clown screamed for he had been hit. The two guys turned around to see another boy, about their age, with a baseball bat in his hand. The clown lay on the floor, with 'X' painted over his eyes. To their surprise he was beginning to fade away. Kai looked over at Taehyun who just watched the scene. The unknown guy smiled at them. "You're welcome." Taehyun opened his mouth to talk for it to be covered by Kai. "Don't talk to anyone," he was reminded.

"Why not? You can talk to me. I am just another wanderer. I wouldn't have hit the clown for you otherwise."

Taehyun was curious about the use of the term wanderer. What did it mean to be a wanderer?, he wanted to know. So, he stopped to hear what the wanderer had to say next. "What? Aren't you two wanderers too?" He was clueless of what it even meant to be a wanderer. Yet, he couldn't ask him. "This is a trap," whispered Kai into his ears.

The wanderer's eyes lit up as he drew a conclusion. He looked over at Kai who only seemed to be wanting him to shut up. "I don't know what to do other than tell you to not go to the pines. Don't go. Wake up."

The warning made Taehyun even more curious. What was the guy talking about? He looked so human. Like a boy killing time. The way he had been waiting for the clown almost. He must've picked the spot to hide because of the streetlight. He could see the clown clearly that way. He was so tempted to ask him. "Taehyun, we have to go to the pines to wake up, remember?" said Kai, gaining his attention. "Right."

Once again, the two guys found themselves walking on the path. The pines, they could see far away. "What did he mean?" asked Taehyun to his friend. "How am I supposed to know?," replied Kai. He sighed as he looked at his friend. "Dreams don't always make sense, you know?," he said. "I keep forgetting this is a dream." "Right. You aren't even able to control it so that makes sense." Taehyun raised an eyebrow. "Can you?" "Hm?" "Can you control this dream? Are you really here? Are we sharing the same lucid dream?," questioned Taehyun, stopping in his tracks. Kai stopped too. "I can't control--"

A fish hit Kai's face. It was a goldfish, he could see courtesy of the streetlights. A few more fell on the ground. Surprised, Taehyun looked up at the purple sky. It was raining fishes, just like he had once read about in a novel. "We better run," said Kai putting forth his hand. Taehyun held onto it before the two of them ran to the pines. He giggled, once they were covered by the trees. He turned back to see a lot more fishes fall from the sky. "That was silly," he said to Kai. "Free fishes," commented the other boy.

"Anyway, let's go now. I want to wake up," said Taehyun. "Sure."

"Don't go," they heard a voice say. Another boy sat by a tree, sadness in his eyes. He looked as pale as one could with the darkness under his eyes as if he hadn't slept for months. "It's a trap. Don't go in," he told Taehyun. Particularly, him. "They're just like the clown, Tae." "He's right," defended another guy, from not so far. Few more guys headed closer. "Don't go in. He's trapping you." He sounded very assuring. That wasn't enough for Taehyun to believe them. Why would he believe the people of this nightmare? As they started getting closer, trying to convince him, Kai held onto his hand. "Let's run before they trap us. They don't want us to get in the pines."

The two friends ran as fast as they could. So fast, that the few of the unknown guys who tried following them, gave up. They ran and ran until they saw a golden bench. In the middle of the pines, a golden bench, had to be there for a reason. "I think this is it. It has daylight around it. So sit," said Kai to Taehyun. Relieved, the guy sat on the bench. It was over. The nightmare was over, at least that's what he thought. "May I never have a nightmare again," he said only to notice the creeper growing up from the land, creeping around his leg.

Golden was the light surrounding the trees. Familiar was the voice that spoke as though it didn't belong a person. The voice belonged perhaps to the trees or the wind. Maybe, it was the purple sky. "You were successful, wanderer. Just as told, you brought to me a sacrifice so you no longer stay cursed. You're free from the recurring nightmare. You shall now dream freely, no long wake up in the mansion. Be vary of wandering back into my nightmare world again."

Eyes wide open, Taehyun looked at Kai. He looked so relieved for he had finally gotten rid of the curse. How could he not be? Not even once he would have to visit this nightmare again. He had to work hard for it of course. To even convince Taehyun to try to have a lucid dream was work. Every bait was a work of art. It took efforts but it was done. He was free to finally have a goodnight's sleep. He felt as happy as Taehyun felt betrayed.

"As for you new boy. Every night you shall visit this nightmare. Every night, you shall suffer. As it gets brighter, you'll wake up to a bright morning but at night you'll wake up to the purple sky. If you wish to not do so, get along a friend in the pines."

‹•.•›

To head to my masterlist click here.

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kotachii · 3 years

Text

Amusement Park

Pairing: Ace x Reader

Type: Modern! Au

Summary: While lost in an amusement park, you meet a stranger

The skies were clear and the day was warm, it would of been a splendid afternoon only if you weren't lost in the amusement park. You came to the amusement park with your friends but you got separated from them after getting off a roller coaster. Apparently, there were three exits and you unknowingly went out a different one than them leaving you all alone in the mist of people. After frankly searching for your friends to no avail, you decided to wander around aimlessly.

You sigh as you popped down in one of the benches beside the scintillating water fountain located in the center of the park. A frown found it's way on your face as you were tired of searching. You really wanted to go on the "Reverse Mountain", known as the biggest attraction in the Grand Line theme park but going alone would be so embarrassing. You shuddered as you could already imagine the piteous look on affectionate couple's faces as they you alone in line, or the pat on the back the employees give you when you say the dreaded phrase of "single rider". There was no way you were going on any attractions before you find your friends.

"Hey, why do you look so lonely?", a black haired male asked you as he takes a sit beside you.

"Um...are you talking to me?"

"I don't see anyone else."

"If you are just trying to flirt with me, this is not going to work."

"Chill, no need to be so serious."

"I am not trying to, it's just common sense to stay away from strangers."

"No wonder you look so sad!"

"What do you mean?", you asked him, bewildered by his statement.

"If you are always trying to distance yourself from strangers, then, you will never meet anyone. You will live a lonely life," he flashed you a grin as he looked at you straight in the eyes.

"Well, thank you for your concern but I am not lonely at all", you replied with a slight frown. This man was starting to annoy you.

"Don't lie. If you are not lonely, why would you be sitting alone in an amusement park just staring at the couple by the ice cream shop?"

You blushed and shook your head to deny but you were cut off by him asking you sternly, with his smile gone, replaced by a serious expression, "So tell me the truth, why are you all alone?"

You weren't sure how to respond but due to his genuine concern, you replied in a quiet and embarrassed voice, "Actually, I got separated from my friends I can't find them anywhere."

"Woah, what an coincidence, I got lost from my friends too", he replied enthusiastically as if it was something to be happy about, "well, if you really are lost then you shouldn't be sitting here, we can go look for our friends together."

"Together? But we've never met before!"

"And your point is? Lost people should stick together, that's what my grandpa told me."

"I don't think it works that way."

"That's the main difference between me and you, this is how you meet new people," he replied with a wink.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his silly gesture. Without hesitation, you brushed your pants and stood up, "So Captain, where should we go?"

~~~

Despite the exuberant meeting, the conversation died down into an awkward silence. You've already walked passed the entrance to "Reverse Mountain", so many times and you are more than excited to go on that ride but of course, you still need to find your friends beforehand.

"Um...", you stuttered as you realized you didn't know how to refer him, "say, do you want to go on some rides, I mean, we are in an amusement park, right?"

He turns his head to look at you, "Yeah, you're right, all of this walking around and searching is getting me tired, what rides should we go on?"

Your eyes shine brightly as your look targets once again on the entrance to "Reverse Mountain", with a grin on your face, you opened your mouth to say, "Reverse Moun-"

"I know, let's go on the Merry-Go round!", he shouts and interrupts you.

You yelped as he grabs your wrists and drags you to the waiting line of 5 people to go on the Merry-Go round of the Grand Line Theme Park. While you were disappointed at the low intensity of this ride, you couldn't help but find this guy adorable for choosing this childish ride out of every attractions in the theme park.

"What a manly ride for a man your size," you said sarcastically.

"Haha, I was worried you will be too scared to go on the larger rides", he replies grinning as usual.

The two of you chose the horses located beside each other and the Merry-Go round starts to roll to life with music, lights and spinning as it goes.

"Hey, over here!", he shouts over the music as he holds up his phone and takes a selfie with you. You quickly strike a silly pose and he continue snapping pictures but soon, the ride slows as it looses it's momentum into a stop.

"That was fun," he said as you two exited the ride, "So, now, where do you want to go?"

"The Reverse Mountain!", you almost shouted too loudly and enthusiastically.

"Nuh huh, we should leave the best to the last and plus, the waiting line is an hour right now."

"Fine, I guess it is your pick again", you said, slightly pouting your cheeks.

"The Haunted Mansion looks great", he said.

"E-Eh?", you panicked a bit since you have always been scared of ghosts and supernatural being and not to forget, the Grand Line's Haunted Mansion has always been known as a "pirate's graveyard" due to it being so scary and realistic.

"How a-about late-er?", you replied stuttering a bit.

"Is someone scared?", he teases you with a smirk on his face.

"No, I just think we should save the best one for the last," you lied.

"Haha, you are cute when you try to act tough, don't worry, I will protect you from anything scary and plus, we already have Reverse Mountain placed for last."

~~~

You bit your lips nervously as you were handed a lantern to share between you and him. The employee in the entrance told you two to walk directly down the hall, turn left and walk up the staircase and follow the arrows on the ground and of course, the cliched saying of "beware for supernatural beings". The farther down the hall you walk, the more nervous you felt. The hall was illuminated solely by the dim lantern the man, which you still haven't ask his name yet, was holding. As that thought cross your mind, you decided to finally ask your companion for a proper introduction. As of now, you were already up the staircase, and there has been nothing except for fake cobweb and old furniture.

"Hey, Mr. Companion, you know, you've never introduced yourself", you said but was hushed by him immediately.

"Wait, don't talk, I think I hear something," he said as he holds up the lantern to silence you.

The two of you stop mid-track and the silences takes over once again except this time, you heard a creaking noise. You could feel your heart pounding since neither you or him was moving, yet the ground was creaking and faint footsteps could be heard. Your companion turned his lantern around a few times to illuminate the otherwise pitch-black hall but no sign of another person's presence could be seen.

"Let's just keep moving, I don't wanna be here anymore", you said as you lean in closer to him.

"This haunted mansion really lives up to it's title, don't you agree? Even I am getting chills," his voice trailed off towards the end.

"I fee-"

You weren't able to finish your sentence as a figure dressed in a glowing white gown suddenly hanged down from the ceiling right in front of you. Blood was dripping from it's fabric, long black hair cascading over it's face into messy tangles and knives hooked onto their bony fingers. A scream erupted from your throat as adrenaline flows through your body. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest and tears threatening to flow out. You were beyond scared but to your surprise, in a swift of a motion, the man who was walking with you pulled you into his chest to prevent you from seeing the prop that hanged down from the ceiling. You could feel his warm hands on the back of your head, your face engulfed by his sweet aroma. You kept your eyes shut as your face was still buried into him, after about a minute or so, you could hear a cranking and he finally spoke.

"Hey, are you alright?", he asked.

You tried your best to nod even though your face was still pressed into his chest.

"It's gone now, it was just a fake prop they used but I guess it did look very realistic", he assured you as he slowly let go of you from the hug.

You felt embarrassed by your actions but much to your surprised, you missed the warmness of his comfort.

"Let's get out of here", he said with a warm smile on his face. He grabbed your wrist once again and pulled you along with him. You two jogged out of this haunted mansion without paying attention to any other decor or actors looking to scare the trespassers. You no longer felt scared knowing that he was here to protect you but by this mere thought, you could still feel your heart pounding. You weren't sure if it was from the fear of this mansion or maybe, you felt a new feeling tugging inside your heart.

You welcomed the sunlight of the exterior as you were more than glad to have exited the dreadful haunted mansion. This is the first time you've admitted of your fear of ghosts to others because you liked to be considered as a strong woman but you didn't felt uncomfortable about sharing this side of you to him.

"So, what were you going to ask me while we were inside?", he asked you as soon as you left the mansion.

"I was going to ask you about your name," you replied matter-of-factly.

"Ah, I didn't tell you my name?", he asks you looking confuse.

"No, you didn't."

"Really? I thought I did, are you sure?"

"Yes I am positive I still have no idea who you are."

"Ace. My name is Portgas D. Ace," he replied, holding out his hand for a handshake.

"I'm (Name) (Last Name)," you said, accepting his handshake.

"(Name) (Last Name).....this sounds so familiar," he said as he tilts his head to the side.

"Really? Where?"

"I know I've heard it somewhere but I don't know where."

"How about you, your name sounds really mysterious, what does the "D." stand for?"

"I am not sure myself, I think it's just a family thing. Anyways," he said changing the topic, "do you want something to eat?"

"I am not that hungry."

"Well, I am, the last to the ice cream shop is paying!", he shouted as he charged into full speed sprinting towards the ice cream shop.

"Hey, wait no fair!", you chased him but was not able to catch up to his speed.

~~~

The day was ending and so was your adventures with this stranger called Ace. The two of you still haven't found your friends and the park will be close in an hour or so. The sunset stretches the shadows within the park leaving long silhouettes plastered on the ground. You and Ace were walking side by side, no longer going on rides since both of you "Yeah," you trailed off, scared that he might propose for the two of you to go your separate ways.

"This day was fun," he said, looking at the sky as it starts to turn into an orange and pink artwork.

"Umm... Ace, do you want to maybe....s-stay in touch?", you asked blushing deeply.

"Looks like you're not that bad at making friends", he said chuckling, "how about I give you my phone number?"

Then, you suddenly remembered that you had your phone this entire time. You could of called your friend a long time ago. You were a dumbass for sure but if you weren't so forgetful, you would of never met Ace. You gave him your phone and he wrote down his name and his number, and you did the same on his phone.

"Oi! (Name)! Where did you go?", you heard your friends call you from behind. You turned around and waved back. You were about to thank Ace again for today but he was gone. However, a message appeared on your phone.

Ace <3: What d'you say to a cup of coffee tomorrow?

#ace x reader #portgas d. ace x reader #portgas ace x reader #one piece x reader #one piece #portgas d. ace #op x reader #one piece imagines

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dreaming-in-alicante · 3 years

Link

First chapter is up!

I have 5 more chapters planned out. It’ll depend on how much work I have with the end of the semester, but I hope to update weekly!

Chapter 1: A research opportunity

_________________________________________________________

A month ago, Grace had sat shell-shocked in the Institute infirmary in the aftermath of the battle, attempting to process the bloodshed she had witnessed and the fact that Tatiana was dead. Jesse, busy talking to Lucie and her parents, making funeral arrangements, had left Grace alone for a while. It was Christopher Lightwood of all people who had noticed her sitting there frozen, who had walked over and offered an awkward pat on the shoulder. He expressed his sympathies and then, seemingly at a loss for a way to help her feel better, told Grace that she was welcome to come visit the lab at any time if she would like something to do to take her mind off of the circumstances. “You were a great help in figuring the function of the pithos that time,” he’d said before wandering off.

Of course that had been before. Before word of her confession had gotten out. Before her trial by Mortal Sword three weeks ago. The Consul had let Grace off without punishment because she was underage and influenced – manipulated – by her mother. No, not mother, Tatiana. You were never a daughter to her, Grace reminded herself. She bought you, you were only ever a weapon that she wielded.

Now that Tatiana was gone and Jesse was restored to life, Grace found herself adrift. Word spread quickly amongst the Clave about what she’d done: the misery she had inflicted on James and by extension Cordelia; her use of demon-gifted power to influence and seduce numerous men – including the Consul’s own son; her involvement in necromancy. She knew plenty of Shadowhunters would happily see her spend time imprisoned in the Silent City. She had made so many apologies that she had quite lost track, but it was not enough – might never be enough. She was still technically part of the Clave, yet no one seemed to know what to do with her. She was even invited to a party last week where everyone had given her a wide berth; a perfect example of how she remained part of things, but was held at a distance.

Grace had spent weeks alone in the apartment Jesse had found for them, reading like she had always done. Now that Jesse was not a ghost, he was no longer her constant companion. He was alive again, out making friends and experiencing the world anew. He had started training and was visiting all the sights of London with Lucie. It was everything Grace had wished for him for years, except now she found herself even lonelier than before. Jesse had invited her along to everything but it was awkward to be around even Lucie. Despite their shared mission to restore Jesse to life and her newfound relationship with Jesse, Lucie was struggling to forgive Grace for her part in James and Cordelia’s suffering. After all, it was Lucie’s own brother and her future parabatai that Grace had hurt. So Grace continued a nearly isolated existence, most days only seeing Jesse briefly in the morning and evenings.

It was the boredom and loneliness that had finally driven Grace to make a call on the Consul’s house at Grosvenor Square. She had overheard Lucie telling Jesse that Christopher was hard at work on something and spending nearly every weekday in the lab there. Surely Christopher should despise Grace after the way she had hurt his friends. Yet he had offered a small wave and smile at the party several days ago when they passed each other near the refreshments. His small gesture and her desperate state had been enough for her to gather her courage and venture out today.

________________________________________________________

Grace stifled a sneeze as she descended the steps into the laboratory. A smoky haze hung in the air and it smelled like… gunpowder? What on earth had Christopher been doing? She paused uncertainly and nearly turned in retreat before steeling her nerve and continuing down.

Grace reached the bottom of the stairs and peered around the lab. “Christopher?” she called tentatively. “Are you working down here?”

A messy head of brown hair, darkened by – was it gunpowder? – shot up from behind the lab bench on the far side of the room. Christopher pushed rounded goggles up onto his head as he strode over to her. “Grace! How nice to see you again!” he greeted her. His skin and once-white shirt were also covered in a fine layer of dark dust. “I suppose I saw you a few days ago at the party but you weren’t there long were you? Jesse said you weren’t feeling well. I heard there was a cold going around, is that what you had? Are you feeling better now?” he asked kindly.

Grace hadn’t felt well at the party, but it had nothing to do with illness and everything to do with the fact that Jesse was the single truly friendly face in that enormous ballroom. Lucie had awkwardly engaged her in stilted conversation before being whisked off to the dance floor by Jesse. After half an hour hovering on the outskirts of the room Grace could simply not endure the suspicious glances from the other guests, and she fled back home. “No, I wasn’t feeling well, but I feel much better now,” she told him simply.

“That’s good to hear!” Christopher said earnestly. “It’s never fun being sick. I detest the medicine my mother makes me take for coughs. That’s actually a project I’d like to pursue at some point, to see if medicine can be flavored but still retain its potency. I think if one could take some fruit, for example, and isolate the components of the fruit – molecules they’re called – that cause the specific taste and – ” he cut himself off abruptly. “My apologies Grace, you obviously came here for a reason and here I am boring you. Did you need help with something?” he asked, looking at her expectantly.

Grace thought she could cry for the sense of normalcy in the conversation and the kindness in his gaze. It was the complete opposite of the stiff, clipped exchanges and distrustful stares she had received since her trial by the Mortal Sword. Jesse was there for support of course, but he also faced distrust – returning from the dead through necromancy tended to make people wary. So to have Christopher – one of the ‘Merry Thieves’ no less – act like nothing at all was wrong, it was a relief.

She would have told Christopher to keep talking about the cough medicine and molecules – the idea sounded quite fascinating – but he had asked her a question. “I…I came to take you up on your offer to help in the laboratory. That is, if you’re sure you still want my help” she said hesitantly, clasping her hands together. “I know you offered weeks ago and I understand if you would prefer me to stay away now that you’ve heard the full story of everything I’ve done…” she trailed off uncertainly.

Christopher blinked at her for a moment, seemingly in shock, before his face split in a wide grin. “Really? You’d like to work here in the lab? No one besides Henry has ever been interested!” He paused thoughtfully, adjusting his glasses. “Well, Thomas does often help but I believe he feels obligated as my cousin. It’s not that he has any deep fascination with science and invention. Although he did make the cure for the Mandikhor poison! But I don’t think he enjoyed the process.” He frowned. “I suppose solving the puzzle of a complicated antidote is much more stressful when people are about to die,” he concluded.

“So, you’re sure you would still like having me around?” Grace asked, tense. “After the pain I caused your friends, I understand if you don’t want my assistance.”

“Of course I’d like you to help!” Christopher replied excitedly. “Having another pair of hands is always useful, and you actually want to be here! As for everything with James and such,” he said seriously, “you apologized didn’t you? And I’m sure you won’t do it again if you feel so badly about it now.”

Grace was astounded. “I did apologize and no, I don’t plan to manipulate anyone in that way again,” she managed to say. “I couldn’t even if I wished to,” she added, “the Silent Brothers found a way to remove my power.” That ritual, performed two weeks by Broth Enoch, had made her ill. She spent the better part of a day asleep, and still felt exhausted the day afterward.

“Then it’s all settled!” Christopher proclaimed brightly. “Let’s see, there’s a space on the benchtop over here where you can work, I have some of my notes there now but I can clean those up, put them over with…” He scurried over to a bench on the left of the room and began tidying it, muttering to himself.

Grace followed slowly after him, still in some disbelief. Yes, she had traveled all the way over to the lab and hoped his offer to join him in the lab still stood. However, she had prepared herself to be brushed off. Had expected Christopher to distrust her now that he knew all of her questionable actions, the ways she had hurt his friends and cousins. Technically she also was, or had been, his cousin by adoption; for some reason she brushed the thought of it away. They weren’t actually related. Especially now that she had reclaimed the Cartwright surname, distancing herself from Tatiana.

“There!” Christopher announced, pulling Grace out of her thoughts. He had cleared the bench of papers and bottles and beakers, and brushed off a layer of dust. “This can be your work station,” he told her. “I’ll find you a notebook to record your findings in, and you can work with me on some projects! Or do you have any ideas or projects of your own you’d like to pursue?” he inquired.

“I read many books growing up, many containing scientific information, so I know some basic principles,” Grace said. “However, I fear that much of the information is decades out of , and I'm sure there are many advancements I have not learned of,” she confessed. “Perhaps you can tell me what you’re working on? Were you doing some experiment involving gun powder just now?”

“Indeed I was!” Christopher replied with a gleam in his eye. “For a years now I’ve been trying to adapt incendiary weapons for use against demons. Angelic runes prevent the gunpowder from igniting somehow, and unless runes are involved the demons can’t be harmed.” He gestured her over to the far side of the room where a couple of guns laid on the table, one partly disassembled, as well as a small grenade.

“You made the runed revolver for James, didn’t you?” she asked, trailing a finger over the rune inscribed on the barrel of the rifle laid out on the bench.

“I did,” Christopher replied. “The problem is, James is the only one who can use it. Something to do with his shadow powers. Even Lucie can’t make it work. Quite confounding.” He held up a very familiar object – the pithos that Belial had used to steal marks. “I’ve been testing different rune placements with this,” he said, “because I thought perhaps an indirect application would make a difference. I’ve tried inscribing inside and outside on different parts. I also have a collection of gunpowder that I put in this runed box.” He gestured with the pithos to a small cubic container, every side plastered with a variety of runes. “The gun still fires – that’s what I was testing before you came in. No telling whether it will have any effect on a demon though,” he said, “It depends on how the runes transfer energy, which is an area no one fully understands yet.” He paused uncertainly, and set the pithos back on the benchtop. “I know you said you’d like to learn, Grace, but I’m not boring you am I?” he asked, sounding troubled.

“No, not at all,” she said quickly, turning her attention away from the disassembled handgun she’d been inspecting to his face. “Truly, it’s fascinating. I enjoy learning and you do a wonderful job of explaining things.”

“Oh,” said Christopher, turning faintly pink at the compliment. “Well, jolly good then. Besides Henry, people never really want to hear details,” he confided.

Grace thought briefly that perhaps Tatiana had been right when she called the Clave a pack of fools. Was there genuinely no one besides Henry Fairchild who appreciated the extent of Christopher’s scientific work? Not even his friends? “How about this?” she said, turning fully to face him. “I promise that if I ever want you to stop talking I’ll tell you directly, but otherwise, I wish to hear every detail. Here, we can shake on it.” She extended her hand between them and asked, “Deal?”

Christopher looked bewildered for a moment, blinked, then took her hand and shook it. His strange violet eyes shone as they met hers and he said, “Deal.”

#gracetopher #grace blackthorn x christopher lightwood #tlh #tlh fic #my fic

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timebird84 · 3 years

Text

🎄 PotO Advent Calendar 2020 🎄

By @frostydaae

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

It was two days until Christmas. The main streets of Paris were lined with shoppers and merchants alike, dressed quite festively in colors of red, green, and white. Two young men and a young woman made their way down the road of merchants. At a glance, one might easily mistake the three for siblings. The two men were in fact brothers, but the young woman they were escorting had no interest in sharing the brother’s De Chagny title. The younger of the two men led the group in the direction of a jewelry shop. While the young, blonde girl made her way inside, the oldest brother, Phillipe, held his younger brother back for a moment.

“Raoul,” said Phillipe, cautiously. “I know I have asked you this many times already, but are you sure that this is the path you want to choose?” Raoul gave a light chuckle to his brother’s concern.

“Phillipe,” replied the youngest, “I am certain. She is what I have been missing for all of these years. I lost her once before, and I do not want to risk losing her again.” Phillipe heaved a sigh and Raoul placed a hand on his older brother’s shoulder. “I know that things will be difficult. I know that she is not considered to be a ‘proper match’, but I am ready to deal with any torment that may be thrown my way, and shield Christine from it as well. I just hope that you can support me in this decision, no matter your stance on the matter.” Suddenly, a chipper voice was heard from the doorway.

“Come along, you two. We haven’t got all day!” Raoul had asked the young ballerina to come along with him to pick out a ring for his (hopefully) soon to be betrothed. He had figured that since the two were best friends, Meg could serve as a proxy for Christine’s taste in style. It also didn’t hurt that the two friends had very similar bodies, hopefully making the ring sizing a bit easier.

The two brothers entered in behind the young ballerina, making their way to the various counters, each filled with rows of jewels. From behind the counter, an older gentleman met them and began to speak.

“Is there anything in particular you gentlemen are looking for today? Perhaps for a nice, young lady?”, gesturing towards Meg. Raoul chuckled at this comment.

“Yes sir. We are actually looking for a very special ring. I am hoping to propose to my love on the upcoming holiday.” Raoul informed the older gentleman.

“I see…”, the older gentleman, Maurice said. “I suppose you are here to give a woman’s thought then?” He said, addressing Meg once more. Before Meg had a chance to utter a response, Phillipe butted into the conversation.

“Yes sir, and I’m afraid we are in a bit of a hurry. This was somewhat of a last-minute decision and my brother’s train to Perros leaves in 4 hours.” Phillipe said, hardly taking a moment to breathe.

“Ah, I see. There is some urgency behind this decision. Give me just a moment then.” Maurice disappeared behind the counter for a moment, only to come back with a small tray of jeweled rings. “These are some of my most lovely selections. On your left, a princess cut on a silver band. Here in the middle, an oval cut on a gold-plated band. And on the right, another gold-plated band with a round cut opal.” Meg audibly gasped at the fine jewelry. Raoul felt himself begin to feel even more nervous about his decision.

“These are all lovely,” Raoul told the older gentleman, “but our relationship is not as traditional as expected. I feel like she should have something that is unexpected, just as unexpected as to how she reentered my life. Phillipe looked at his brother, a bit puzzled at his remarks. Maurice gave Raoul a look, almost as if he was calculating an equation in his head. After a moment, he finally spoke up again.

“Give me a moment to run to the back. I have something I think may fit the description you’re looking for.” The three watched as the man disappeared once more, this time for a longer amount. When he reemerged, he was holding a closed velvet box in his hands. He sat the box down on the counter and slowly opened it. Inside was the most perfect opal cut sapphire, sitting on a simple silver band. Raoul instinctively reached out for the item, staring in awe.

“This ring is one of a kind. I made it by hand myself over 50 years ago. I proposed to my wife with this ring, and it stayed on her finger until the day she died.” The older man sniffled, and it was apparent that he was holding back a few tears. “It has been nearly 15 years since her death and I have kept it on my desk every day since. However, I can tell that your young lady means as much to you as my Charlotte meant to me.” Tears filled the eyes of the four in the room. “It is time for this ring’s legacy to live on.”

“Monsieur, are you quite certain? It is absolutely stunning and would be perfect for her, but I can’t simply take such a prized possession from you.” The older gentleman chuckled.

“Young man, this ring has been collecting dust for nearly fifteen years now. It would be my privilege to pass it onto you.” The two men engaged smiles. “Mademoiselle, I assume you are here as a stand-in for the soon to be bride?” Meg nodded her head enthusiastically. “Let us see if the ring is a fit then, shall we?” Meg held her dainty hand out as Maurice took it in his, sliding it onto the young blonde’s finger. The four all gasped at the near-perfect fit that was before them. “I believe it is settled then, Monsieur.” Meg slipped the ring off her finger, handing it back to the elder gentleman who promptly placed the ring back into its box, and the box into a separate bag.

The two brothers and the not-sister exited the shop, quite content with the purchase they had made. Meg bade them farewell, wishing Raoul luck as she left. The two brothers rode in a carriage back to the family’s chateau, where Phillipe helped make sure that everything was ready to go for his brother’s trip to Perros.

During this time, Raoul slipped the box out of the merchant’s bag, promptly slipping it into his own coat pocket. Over the entire duration to Perros, Raoul methodically brushed his hand over the box in his pocket, checking every minute or so to make sure that it was indeed still there and had not all been a figment of his imagination.

As the train came to a stop, Raoul felt his heartbeat begin to quicken. He knew he was not even going to propose to Christine until the next day as the clock struck midnight, but the very thought of the event being so soon made him feel anxious. He retrieved his luggage and ordered a carriage to take him to the Valerius residence.

As the carriage rolled up to the grounds of the widowed Madame Valerius (or Mamma, as she would insist), he noticed bright green eyes peering out the window, like a child on Christmas morning peering at the white snow. The carriage rolled to a stop and Raoul stepped out, paying the driver as he removed his luggage from the back. Before the carriage could even pull away, the young brunette came running down the entryway to the house, tightly embracing the love of her life as if they had not seen each other in decades. Raoul returned the embrace, just as tight.

“Raoul!” Christine exclaimed, “I can’t believe that you’re really here! You know you didn’t have to visit me over the holiday. You could have stayed with your family.” The two let each other go as two servants began to bring Raoul’s luggage inside the house.

“Christine,” Raoul said, taking hold of the young woman’s shoulders, “there is absolutely nowhere else I would rather be for Christmas than right here with you.” As the servants made their way inside, the two shared a brief kiss.

“Oh Raoul, you being here is present enough for me!” Raoul once again felt as if butterflies flew around his stomach, knowing that a much bigger present would be coming her way. The two made their way through the front door, where Raoul was eagerly greeted by Mamma Valerius. The three shared pleasantries in the doorway before Raoul excused himself for bed. It had been a very long day, and he would certainly need his rest for the day ahead of him.

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The next morning, Raoul was awakened by his own senses. The curtains were still closed, but he could see the sun peeking its rays through. He wagered a guess that it was somewhere close to noon. Feeling his stomach grumble, Raoul quickly dressed and made his way down the stairs, where he saw the two women sitting down for lunch.

“Good afternoon, sleepy-head.” Christine giggled at her own comment. “We were wondering when you would join us.”

“My apologies, ladies. I’m afraid the train ride must have been more tiring than I had expected.” Raoul sat down at the table, joining the ladies in enjoying their wonderful lunch. After lunch, Christine and Raoul decided that they would like to walk around the small, village-like area. Dressed quite warmly, they went on their merry way.

Making their way through the light snow, they ended up venturing a bit beyond the village, making their way into the main town square. They visited the various shops and made a stop at one of the many cafes, deciding to each get a cup of hot chocolate while enjoying each other’s company. After leaving one shop, they found that the doorway had been marked with mistletoe as they shared a kiss underneath.

Time grew later and the world became darker as the two journeyed back to the Valerius estate. Mamma Valerius was already rushing around, preparing to leave for Christmas Eve mass. Raoul looked at his watch, noticing that the time was just close to 7 o’clock. They had most definitely not meant to spend that much time out, but they were both grateful for every moment of it. The two made their way to their respective rooms, changing into different clothing, more suited for a church setting.

After finishing, the two made their way down to the dining room once more, where Mamma Valerius was waiting for them to join her for dinner. The three took their time, enjoying their delicious dinner. As the sky grew to be fully dark, Mamma Valerius made her way outside to order a carriage to take them into town for Christmas Eve mass.

As the carriage pulled up, Raoul realized that he had left his coat upstairs in his bedroom. He ran up quickly to grab it, checking once more to make sure the ring remained in the pocket. The three made their way to the church as many gathered outside of the doors. For some reason or another, the main church in Perros decided that they would hold their Christmas Eve mass earlier in the evening; perhaps to allow families with small children to still be put to bed at a reasonable time.

Mamma Valerius sat between the two hopeless romantics during the service, and Raoul could not be more grateful for it. He could not seem to stop squirming, checking the pocket of his coat as it lay next to him seemingly every other second now. The three joined in hymns, Christine’s voice noticeably shining through the chorus of those in worship. There were a few different times that Raoul simply stopped singing to enjoy the beauty of Christine’s voice. To him, there was no one else in the room but her. As they were seated again, the two caught a glance of each other, both blushing as they settled back into their seats.

The time neared 11 o’clock as the service let out. Many stayed behind to chat with each other, whereas Raoul was determined to make his way back to the estate with time to spare before midnight. The three rode in the carriage back to the estate, as time seemed to move in slow-motion for Raoul. He had now gone from not only checking his pocket for the ring box but also checking his watch every few minutes. Thankfully, Christine had fallen half-asleep, rested against his shoulder, and did not notice his nervous behavior.

As the carriage jolted to a stop, it took all of the self-control Raoul had to not burst from the carriage and run inside the property. He remained calm as he escorted the two ladies inside the house. By then, Christine had woken up a bit more than she had been in the carriage. As Mamma and Christine made talk about various people they had seen at the service, Raoul excused himself to go and dress for bed. As he changed into his nightclothes, he sat by the door, eagerly awaiting Christine’s footsteps.

After a few minutes of waiting, he heard the pitter-patter of delicate footsteps making their way up the large staircase. He knew that he needed to give Christine a few more minutes in order to change into her own nightclothes. Raoul made his way to the balcony of the guest room, looking up at the night sky. He had taken the ring out of his coat pocket and inserted it into the pocket of his pajama pants. He took it into his hands once more, opening it to look at the beautiful sapphire jewel that sat on top of the silver band. He thought back on the older gentleman that had parted with such an important memory of his departed wife and Raoul wished that he could be everything that Christine wanted and needed to have his wife adore him as much as Maurice’s wife must have. Raoul looked to the sky once again.

“Monsieur Daae,” he began, hoping the soul of Christine’s father could hear his words. “I know I have already spoken to you on this matter, but tonight is the night I am going to ask your daughter to marry me. I know I cannot even begin to replace the role of being the most important man in her life, as I believe that position will belong to you forever.” Raoul lightly chuckled before becoming more somber. “Monsieur Daae, I love your daughter so much. I cannot even begin to put it into words the feelings I carry for your sweet girl. I only wish you were still with us so that I could speak to you, face-to-face. So that you could share in what will hopefully be her excitement, as well as being able to walk her down the aisle.” Raoul heaved a great sigh. “I only hope I can make her as happy as you once did. Thank you for allowing me to do this sir.”

Raoul suddenly realized how bitterly cold it was outside, so he made his way back into the room, shutting the balcony doors behind him. He supposed that Christine must be dressed in her nightclothes by now, so he checked his pajama pocket once more for the ring box as he turned the handle of the door. He made his way across the hall to Christine’s bedroom. He noticed his hand shaking as he raised it to knock on her door. He took another deep breath, hoping that would calm him down a bit more, knocking lightly on her door.

“One moment!” Christine’s light voice echoed into the hallway. She opened the door to reveal herself in a beautiful flowing nightgown colored in the shade of light rose. “Raoul!” She exclaimed, quickly closing the door. Raoul became very confused at this but was relieved as the door reopened a few moments later, Christine now wearing a white dressing gown on top of her beautiful nightgown. Raoul cleared his throat.

“Ch-Christine, would you care to join me downstairs for a cup of tea?” Raoul asked, a slight quiver in his voice.

“Now?” She replied, a bit surprised. She glanced back into her room to see her clock. “Why Raoul, it’s nearly midnight.” Replied Christine as she feigned concern for propriety. Raoul began to stammer and shuffle a bit. She giggled to herself and said “Raoul, I jest. I would love nothing more than to enjoy a cup of tea with you. Raoul let a sigh of relief out, hoping he had not let onto what he had planned for the evening. As Christine closed her bedroom door behind her, Raoul held out his arm as Christine took hold of it, making their way down the stairs.

By the time the two had reached the kitchen, Raoul was finding it even more difficult to keep himself from shaking with anxiety. Christine poured them each a cup of tea as Raoul took a seat in the parlor. For a final time, Raoul brushed his hand across the pocket to check for the ring box. A moment later, Christine made her way into the parlor, carrying a tray with the full teacups, sugar, and milk, setting it down on the table in front of them. Christine poured a tiny bit of milk into her tea as Raoul sipped his, hoping to quench some of the thirst his anxiety had brought upon him. After a few moments of silence, Raoul finally found his voice once more as he cleared his voice.

“Christine…” He stopped in his tracks before he could say any more. What if he messed this whole event up? What if he couldn’t find the right words? As these thoughts entered his mind, he heard a voice that was seemingly behind him say:

“Do not worry so much, child. You know Christine as well as I do. Your heart knows the words you want to say. Lead with your heart.” Raoul whipped his head around, searching for the source of the voice.

“Yes, Raoul? Are you alright?” Raoul turned back to face the woman that he loved once more.

“Yes, my love, I thought I heard something is all.” Raoul cleared his throat once more. “Christine, I promised you many months ago that I would guide, guard, and love you forever. I know they may have seemed like simple words of a fool in love, but I want you to know that I meant every word that I spoke that night, as well as every word I have spoken since.” Christine looked lovingly into his eyes.

“And I as well, Raoul,” she said, smiling sweetly.

“I am glad to hear that you return the sentiment.. Oh, Christine…” Raoul said as he stood from the couch, walking across the room, his eyes on the clock, which was now only a minute away from midnight. “What I am trying to say is that…” he searched for the right words to say once more. “Is that I am completely enamored by you and everything that you do. Your smile, the way you love others, the way you love me. The way you find a way to turn any situation into a positive one.” He turned around to face her again as the clock struck midnight. He stared at her in awe, fishing the box from his pocket as the chimes rang through the parlor. As the chimes subsided, he made his way to kneel in front of the beautiful woman that he loved.

“Christine Daae,” he began, “will you marry me?” By this time, tears were streaming down Christine’s face as Raoul opened the box for Christine to see. She gasped when she saw the ring inside. It was absolutely perfect in her eyes, although Raoul very well could have presented her with a piece of twine and she would have been just as happy. For a moment, Christine could produce nothing but sobs from her mouth. Tears now fell from Raoul’s eyes as well.

“Yes,” Christine whispered. The word was so faint that Raoul swore that he had merely imagined it. He knew that it was not so as he heard the word many times following the first. “Yes, yes, yes, yes yes! A million times yes!” The two continued to cry as they joined together for a kiss. This kiss was unlike any other they had shared before. This kiss was nothing but the purest form of love and affection two people could ever have for each other. After what felt like a heavenly eternity, the two pulled apart.

“Oh, Raoul. I didn’t think that this holiday could get any better. All I wished was for you to be with me.” She smiled so much that it nearly caused her pain. “I feel guilty though,” she said as Raoul removed the ring from the box, revealing a perfect fit to Christine’s dainty finger.

“Why is that, my love?” Raoul questioned with a worry in his voice, wiping another tear from his new fiancee’s cheek.

“I have no gift for you that can match what you have given me tonight.” A few more tears fell from her eyes as Raoul wiped each one away, kissing her soft forehead.

“Christine,” Raoul leaned in for another kiss, which Christine gratefully accepted. As they pulled apart, Raoul continued to look deep into Christine’s emerald eyes.

“You are my gift.”

#PotO Advent Calendar #PotO #Phantom of the Opera #Door 5

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