#i will leave scorch marks wherever i pass
Text
Month 12 - Leafbare
Time was hard to hold onto these days. Scorch blinked and suddenly spring had arrived, cautiously thawing out the gardens and poking its flowers up through the soil. If she thought back, she could remember that she had spent the time studying to become an interpreter in between visits from Razor but the actual experiences of those moments tended to feel fuzzy and loose. She was grateful that she somehow managed to hold onto the knowledge of interpreting.
The act fascinated her. Each Name Charm was marked with symbols that the Folk used to convey meaning and slowly, she was learning to interpret it. Confined in her house as she was, Portia wasn’t able to do much teaching so she had put a young molly named Marmalade in charge of teaching Scorch how to understand the symbols.
Marmalade took Scorch through the neighborhood, usually with another cat along to ‘escort’, and showed her the symbols in different places. Now that they were pointed out to her, Scorch couldn’t stop seeing them. They were on the corner poles and the fronts of houses and the sides of cars and nearly every wall in the downtown area had some cluster of them somewhere. Marmalade would teach her what they said and then teach her how each symbol made up a piece of the meaning. She learned how to recognize the individual symbols wherever they appeared in the clusters and how there were two versions of each symbol for some reason.
It was honestly exciting. She couldn’t believe that all her life there had been meaning spread across the surface of the world and she hadn’t even known. When she was at home, when time was the most solid, she would wander around, discovering all of the different symbols in her home and trying to interpret them. They were everywhere, on the food boxes and her dish and flashing across the magic window that her Folk would watch and the pages in the kits’ rooms and the warm thing the adult human pawed at on her lap and even though Scorch didn’t know what some of the words meant, she knew their pieces and that felt like power.
It wasn’t power that helped her much, though. Being an Interpreter did come with a certain amount of prestige. She and Marmalade were sometimes sent to deliver blessings from the Folk. They would go to cats who were ill in their homes or to new mothers and their kittens and bestow gifts upon them. Cats always thanked them and looked up at them with worshipful gazes. They parted to allow them through. Chaff asked them for blessings as they passed and thanked them profusely when Marmalade bid them “be well.” Yes, there was definitely power there, but it never did anything to get rid of the babysitters that followed her everywhere she went.
And it never stopped Razor from calling on her.
Today, after an Interpreters’ meeting in Portia’s garden, he had arrived to collect her, all toothy smiles and pet names and suffocating touches. She purred and fell in beside him and let go of her grasp on time. He’d invited her to accompany him to another meeting, this one about the warfront, and she had agreed.
Now she found herself draped against his side as he lounged in the grass of his own backyard. Several toms sat around in a circle, discussing strategy. All of them, except for Ghost, were Exalted.
“Hunting operations are continuing as planned,” Oreo was saying. “We’ll have to increase our presence, though, if we want to account for spring prey numbers.”
“Do you think we’ll still be able to starve them out?” Razor asked thoughtfully.
“I do,” Oreo nodded. “The Chaff are hungry enough, the only problem is the risk of getting attacked by wild cats. We need to find a way to make it seem like the threat is minimal if we want them hunting in droves.”
Ghost cleared his throat and said, “From what my cats have been saying, most encounters can end without bloodshed as long as we don’t antagonize the Clans. If a cat apologizes and leaves they’ll get a torn ear at most. If you’d like, I can spread the word about-”
“No,” Razor rumbled darkly and Scorch felt her throat tighten. “No, we’re not going to teach the Chaff that they should run from these savages. We won’t show weakness like that when that territory is our right.”
“But, sir,” Ghost shifted uncomfortably, “most of my cats aren’t fighters.”
“Then pair them with fighters,” Razor said as if it were obvious. “If they need protection, give it to them.”
Ghost’s throat labored for a moment before he said, “Yes, sir.”
“I think it might also be a good idea to take a more proactive approach,” said Sardine, a younger tom who had only recently been allowed into these kinds of meetings. “You know what they say: the best defense is a good offense.”
Razor smiled and nodded in his direction. “I’m listening.” Scorch listened too, with bated breath.
Sardine continued. “Part of the reason the Slaughter of Sycamore was such a decisive loss was because our position wasn’t easily defensible. The wild cats had the home turf advantage and, given their surprisingly large numbers, I reason they must have had somewhere to organize themselves before the attack. If we could take that location for ourselves, we would have a much stronger foothold from which to orchestrate our campaign. We could even move a number of chaff to the front full time.”
Scorch repressed a shiver as the image of Razor and his followers carving their way through RisingClan’s camp flashed through her mind. The calm, detached manner in which Sardine said it rubbed her fur the wrong way. It was almost like he didn’t care that he was toying with the lives of cats on both sides.
“And how would you propose we do that?” frowned Tiger, his muscles rippling under his pelt as he shifted forward. “We have no idea how far that location might be and clearly inching our way bit by bit doesn’t work.”
“It could,” Oreo countered. “Another big reason we lost that battle was because of the snow storm and we’ll have all summer to retake that ground.”
“We’ll still be out in the open,” Tiger growled. “I don’t like it.”
“Please,” Razor said, his chest rumbling smoothly against Scorch’s side, “I’m sure Sardine has a plan. Don’t you?” He tilted his head to regard the young cat and Scorch heard the familiar undertone in his voice that said ‘this is a test.’
Sardine smiled and said, “I do. I propose we form strike teams of three to six cats and wait for the ‘border patrols’ to come by then kill as many cats as we can.” Scorch swallowed. “Soon enough, their numbers will weaken and falter and we will be able to find and clear out one of their bases and take it for our own, thus acquiring a proper encampment from which to stage our own assault.”
“Not a bad strategy,” Razor complimented and one of Sardine’s ears twitched in satisfaction. “What do we think, boys?” He looked around the circle, one brow raised. Scorch did likewise, trying to keep her expression passive as she judged their reactions.
“It could work…” Oreo hummed skeptically.
Ghost shifted, a grimace on his face, and said, “This all assumes that they have a fortified location we could use. There’s no way to know if that's the case. They could live in scattered nests or isolated burrows.”
“Who cares,” Tiger brushed him off. “Even if there isn’t some central location we can take over, I think the effort put into the strike teams would be worth it.” He smirked and looked at Razor. “I wouldn’t mind the opportunity for a bit of extermination.” Scorch’s blood ran cold. Tiger seemed to notice and his eyes twitched over to meet hers. She quickly ducked her gaze and leaned away to nestle her cheek into Razor’s fur demurely.
“We would need to be careful,” Ghost said. “The wild cats are a lot stronger than we first thought. I’m not sure many of my cats could go blow for blow with them for long.”
“They don’t need to,” Oreo said simply. “If we get enough of them in a group they’ll be able to wear the wild cats down even if they take losses.” Scorch spared a glance at Ghost to see his jaw working. He was furious. Still, he was hiding it well, she thought. It was only her experience with him that let her recognize the subtle tensing of the muscles in his neck and the way his tail tip was poised to start twitching if he let it.
Razor seemed to notice too and said, “True, but there’s no need to be so wasteful if we can afford not to be. It’s our job to look out for the Chaff, is it not?”
Oreo’s whiskers twitched and he looked down. Tiger huffed softly through his nose.
Sardine nodded and said, “Indeed. Perhaps combat training could be provided?”
Razor smiled. “Good idea,” he said. “Why don’t you and Ghost organize training for the most promising candidates. Once you both feel satisfied with their progress, we can start implementing these strike teams, yeah?”
“Sounds good,” Sardine said, glancing at Ghost. Ghost grunted affirmatively, his jaw still clenched.
“Good,” Razor said, moving to stand. Scorch stood as well, pressing close to him and keeping her head low to avoid too much attention. “Is there anything else we needed to discuss?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Oreo said, standing as well. Tiger and Ghost both shook their heads.
Sardine took a step forward. “Actually, Razor, I was wondering if I could have a private word?”
“Of course,” Razor said, jerking his head towards the rose bush in the corner of the yard. Tail brushing across Scorch’s belly, he leaned into her ear and said, “Wait here for me, would you, dear?”
Scorch chuckled to hide the shudder of disgust that went through her. “Always.” His smile widened and he ran his tongue over her cheek and up her brow before gesturing to Sardine and padding off to the rose bush. She was tempted to try and eavesdrop but knew that she wouldn’t be able to get close enough without being seen.
In addition, she had a more important task to see to. She looked over at the others. Oreo and Tiger had started off across the lawn together, talking amongst themselves. Ghost sat still, his eyes closed as he breathed slowly in and out. Scorch cast one glance over her shoulder to make sure Razor was occupied then slipped over to stand next to Ghost. His whiskers twitched as she drew near and he opened his newly scarred eye to look at her.
“What do you want?” he grumbled. His eyes also darted over her shoulder to where Razor and Sardine were talking.
“I wanted to apologize,” she said softly, offering a smile. “I was under quite a lot of stress last time we talked and I did a lot of things that I am not proud of.” She held her breath, hoping he bought it. This part was integral if she was going to accomplish what she needed to.
He scowled at her. “You nearly got me in serious trouble, you know that?”
“I do,” she winced, hoping she looked sufficiently remorseful. “I’m sorry, Ghost. Really.” He stared at her for another long moment before sighing, his gaze softening a touch.
“I appreciate it,” he said, looking her over. She smiled and sat down. Good. He had never been able to stay mad at her for long.
“I did mean what I said about looking out for Smokyrose,” she whispered. “If you helped me escape, I could bring them a warning.”
Ghost shook his head. “And then what? My cats get killed instead? No, I can’t do that.” Scorch felt anger rising in her again. There was always an excuse with him, wasn’t there, some reason why he couldn’t do what she needed him to. She focused on keeping calm, though. Trying to threaten him hadn’t worked at all. She needed to use a softer touch.
She shifted closer, her eyes big and sincere, and said, “Then I’ll tell the Clans not to kill the Chaff. Goldenstar would listen. She took in Scrap despite my warnings. If she can spare a life, she will, I promise.”
“So Scrap is safe then,” he said as if he’d caught her in a lie. Scorch tried not to let her irritation get the better of her. Like he cared about Scrap at all.
“Yes,” she said, smiling. “And I can make sure that she stays that way. Both her and Smokyrose.” Instinctively, she brushed her tail tenderly over his, satisfied by the way he tensed and then relaxed under her touch. “Please, Ghost. Won’t you help me?” She tried to make her eyes water as she held his gaze. Hopefully he would prove as predictable as always and be unable to resist the pleadings of a woman who needed him.
She watched him thinking. His eyes darted down to her paws like he wanted to place one of his own on top of them. He leaned forward almost imperceptibly, their whiskers almost close enough to touch. His mouth opened, a hesitant word on his tongue, and she felt her spirits soar. Yes! She had won! She had-
His eyes flickered over her shoulder and a scowl returned. “Razor is watching,” he said. Bile swelled to overtake her lifted spirits and drag them back down to the pit of her stomach. She knew better than to look over her shoulder or quickly fix her posture. She licked her lips and very carefully sat back.
“Think about it,” she said. “You know where to find me.” At this point, she could hear Razor coming her way. She let one ear twitch back, then stood and turned to face him, hiding all evidence that she had been touching Ghost. She smiled fondly at Razor and moved to meet him, butting her head against his chest.
“Ghost,” Sardine said, a dubious tilt to his voice, “Shall we talk logistics?”
Ghost cleared his throat and nodded, standing. “Yes. Let’s.” Stiffly, he turned and followed the younger tom and Scorch cursed him in her head. He was being too obvious!
Razor curled around her, his brows furrowed, and asked, “What was that all about?” As he did, he nosed the fur on the back of her neck and she went rigid at the touch, heart suddenly hammering.
“I was urging Ghost to have faith in your leadership,” she lied, trying to turn her head to look at him, but he opened his mouth and gently placed his teeth against her scruff and she immediately froze again. A purr rumbled through him and he removed his teeth. This time, she stayed exactly where she was.
“Is that all?” he murmured warmly against her skin. “It seemed like there was more to it than that.” He padded slowly around her, always keeping some part of him in contact with her.
Scorch fixed her eyes on the rose bush as she spoke. “Maybe for him,” she said. “You know he never really got over me.”
“Mm,” Razor hummed, unsatisfied.
Scorch swallowed. “But I promise, things were strictly professional. I have no interest in any other kind of relationship with someone like him.”
Razor came back around to look at her face again and she dared to turn her head to meet his gaze. “Not even a little?” he asked, “for old times’ sake?”
“No, of course not!” She promised with a worried expression. “Razor, I’m yours now. That’s all I could ever want.”
Razor looked her over and then sighed with a dejected glance downward. “I know. I just… after you went missing and everything…” He shifted his weight and sat down. “It feels like you sometimes don’t think about how your actions affect me. I do so much to make sure you’re taken care of and it’s like you don’t even care.”
“No, Razor,” she swallowed and stepped in to wrap herself around him instead, “of course I care! I’m so sorry I’ve made you feel that way.” She knew his game. This trick was the oldest in the book. But she had no choice but to play along. “How can I prove how much I love you, honey?”
Razor leaned into her touch with another sigh. “Just… promise you won’t talk to Ghost anymore?” he asked tiredly. “It would make me feel so much better if I didn’t have to worry about him and you.”
“Of course,” Scorch promised, pressing her forehead against his. “If that’s what you want, I’ll try and avoid him.”
“It is,” he purred. “Thank you, Gingersnap.”
“Anything for you,” she swallowed.
“Why don’t I walk you home,” he offered, pulling back to meet her gaze again.
“Oh, that’s alright,” she shook her head. “I can get back just fine on my own.”
“No, no, I insist,” he said, standing up. “I’ll feel a lot better if I know you got home safe.”
Scorch sighed. It had been worth a try. Smiling, she tried to play her reaction off as fondness and said, “Alright then. Whatever you want, dear.”
#clan gen#clangen#warrior cats#warriors#warrior cats oc#warriors oc#clangen oc#clan gen oc#Scorchplume#Razor#Ghost#Oreo#Tiger#Sardine#Marmalade#Leafbare#clangenrising
67 notes
·
View notes
Text
Same Heart, ch 8: Ashes
A03 Link
Rating: E- Explicit, minors go away
Warnings: Nightmares/night terrors, ptsd, guilt, grief, sex in a closet.
Word count 1683
Apologies for the Pain, again. It’s only going to escalate from here I’m afraid. Being canon compliant is tough sometimes. That being said, with the premiere of season two of the bad batch quickly approaching, I have a lot of work ahead! Hopefully I can continue to crank these chapters out and not fall behind. Thank you again, as always, for reading, commenting, and reblogging.
F! Reader/ Fives (technically Echo)
Some days are still harder than others, but you and Fives get through it with each other’s support.
You aren’t sure how much time passes between that first night and this one, but it simultaneously feels like years and minutes. With each morning that you wake and roll over to find Fives curled into your side, snoring away, you feel almost complete, almost normal. And it’s true, you are happy with Fives and he is happy with you. His brothers have seen it and they’re all relieved. Things almost seem like they were ‘before’. Almost.
Grief is a cruel thing. It has a way of coming back and striking like lightning on a perfectly clear day, disrupting everything around it and leaving a smoking scorch mark wherever it lands.
Some days, if someone looks at you when you aren’t being spoken to, when you think you aren’t being watched, they’d see how quickly your eyes change from awareness to detachment. They’d see how your body seems to hunch in on itself, and how your hand unconsciously reaches to fidget with the glowing stone around your neck. Nobody has noticed though, save for one person.
It’s Fives. It’s always Fives. He notices because he is doing the same thing.
The others at 79s don’t see how, once the two of you leave the building, you both slump, exhausted. They don’t see the trip back to your apartment being taken in silence or the way you two simply look at each other and say so much without uttering a single word.
They don’t see what you’re seeing right now.
Right now, it’s still dark, the very early hours of morning, and even in the low light of your bedroom, you can see the sweat on Fives’ skin, the panic on his face, the tears in his eyes. You shuffle under the sheets, sitting up next to him while he trembles. You don’t need to ask, as you already know. You’ve long ago lost count of how many nightmares the two of you have had.
Cautiously, you quietly call Fives’ name and gently touch his bare shoulder. He flinches at the contact, but doesn’t shake you off. You move and reposition yourself, cross-legged, in front of him and take his hands. He squeezes yours, as if desperate to prove to himself that he’s awake and you’re real. He looks over at you, and you see the pain and guilt painted across his face like garish stage makeup.
“I almost had him.” Fives whispers hoarsely, before he crumbles forward into you, sobbing. You so desperately want to comfort him, to make his pain and grief stop, but you know you can’t. There’s nothing you can really do aside from hold him tightly to your chest, fighting tears of your own.
After one of the first nightmares like this, you had sat awake with Fives, backs against the headboard, listening intently while he stared off, eyes unfocused, voice cracking, and told you everything that had happened. Echo had been trying to get to a waiting shuttle, running towards it while firing his blaster at a large cannon intent on destroying the ship.
Fives had taken a long, shuddering breath and said “I was right behind him,” before whispering your name. “I was right there, and if I’d just grabbed him, or pushed him out of the way, then…” he had trailed off and gone silent for about a minute. “But I didn’t. I just stood there and watched it happen. If it weren’t for me, if I had-“ he continued before you firmly cut him off. You told him that was not true, and he was in no way responsible for what Echo had done or what happened to him.
At the time, and even now, your heart aches for him. You can’t imagine the guilt and self-loathing Fives must feel. As Fives’ breathing evens out and the shakes taper off, you take care of him the way he had taken care of you the first night he had stayed over. You bring him water and he drinks it, you lie on your side and he curls into you, you hold him close until he falls back into a fitful sleep.
You bite back a growl of frustration as he does. You’re a medic, and a damn good one; You can set a broken bone in moments, stitch a cut closed tightly, but you can’t heal a wound like this. The helplessness threatens to overwhelm you and a knot rises in your throat, but you’re able to take a few deep breaths and keep your fragile composure.
You glance over at your bedside table. There, next to the small chrono, lies the wire-wrapped crystal pendant. You tried not to fall asleep wearing it, for fear of tangling the chain or bending the wires, and so it rests nearby. You can’t feel the odd warmth it radiates, but the shimmering blue-purple light is cast up onto the wall behind it, and watching the soft movement of the colors is eventually enough to lull you back to sleep.
You’re walking through the GAR building, looking for the medical supply storage. You should know exactly where it is, but the place is so big you forget constantly. As you’re wandering, you spot a handful of clones in distinct 501st blue armor headed in your direction. As they pass, a few nodding at you, you notice that Fives isn’t among them.
You’re suddenly pulled into a janitorial closet while wondering where he could have been. As the door slides shut and you whirl around to confront whoever had grabbed you, your question was answered when Fives grins at you.
“Maker Fives, don’t scare me like that!” you say, pushing him a little.
The annoyance in your tone is betrayed by the matching smile on your face and he chuckles at you. The two of you are on each other in seconds, one holding the other desperately close and kissing each other deeply. You pull away first, panting slightly and feeling heat spread across your cheeks. Fives goes back in, kissing you again as he clumsily paws at the waistband of your leggings.
You back up into a wall, pulling him with you and hastily unclipping his codpiece. He groans as you palm his achingly hard cock through his body suit, and unceremoniously yanks your leggings and panties down, revealing your already slick-coated thighs.
“Fuck cyare,” Fives hisses in a whisper as you free his cock from his undersuit and begin stroking along its length. He grabs the globes of your ass and lifts you effortlessly into the air.
Automatically, you press your back against the wall and wrap your legs around his waist, gripping the pauldrons of his armor for leverage. He slides up into your dripping pussy with a grunt, and you have to hold a hand to your mouth to stifle a loud moan at the sensation. Fives fucks up into you, his hips slamming into your ass, and you know youre going to be bruised by his armor but you don’t care.
“Call me that again,” you say breathlessly into his ear.
“Cyare?” He asks, and notices when you clench tighter around him in response. “You like that, being my cyare? Mesh’la-“ he says, teasing, but is cut off by you pulling his face into yours, your lips crashing together as you swallow each other’s moans and gasps.
You feel your orgasm approaching fast, and tighten the grip of your legs around Fives’ waist, spurring him to thrust harder into you. You briefly see stars as you come, and Fives has to clamp a hand over your mouth again so that you won’t be heard from outside. His hips stutter as he does, and you feel him spill up into you while he barely holds back a moan of his own.
Panting as you both come down, Fives presses his forehead into yours and the two of you stay like that for a peaceful moment. You sometimes feel guilty about being with Fives so soon after losing Echo, but the seconds you share like this convince you that it’s worth it. You gently cup the sides of his face and peck his lips before you point out that Kix and Rex will both have noticed the two of you are missing by now.
Begrudgingly, Fives pulls out and sets you back on your feet. You grab a rag from a shelf nearby to clean yourself up as he clips his codpiece back into place.
Once you’ve redressed and smoothed yourself out, you chance a peek into the hallway and see nobody around. You tell Fives that the coast is clear, and he gives you a soft kiss to the temple before you both slip outside and leave in opposite directions. You still haven’t found the supply room you were looking for, you realize, and you’ve forgotten what specifically you were sent to look for in the first place. Kix is definitely going to be irritated with you.
The following day, as you are returning from your lunch break, you see Fives in the hallway again and he jogs over to you, calling your name. Before you can say or do anything, he speaks.
“I’m glad I caught you, we’re about to ship out,” he says quickly. “Umbara, and I don’t know how long,” he says in answer to your unspoken question. Your heart clenches and Fives must have seen the fear in your face because he suddenly hugs you tightly and whispers “I know, mesh’la, I know. I’ll be fine, I promise.” Your hand unconsciously shoots up and you wrap your fingers around the crystal pendant hidden under your tunic, idly feeling it thrum against your fingertips.
“Come back to me, ok?” you say.
“I promise I will cyare,” he whispers back to you before breaking away and rushing back in the direction he had come from. You watched him go, a heavy pit forming in your stomach as he eventually slipped out of view.
Taglist: @kaminocasey @studioramekin @madameminor @wolveria @zoeykallus @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @whore4rex @jennamelinda12
To be added to or removed from this list, reply to this post.
#my fics#series#echo#fives#tcw fives/ you#tcw fives/ reader#tcw fives#tcw echo/reader#tcw echo/you#tcw echo#tbb echo/reader#tbb echo/you#tbb echo
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
Pairing : demon!Jaehyun x fem!reader.
Genre : demon!au / yandere-ish!au / fluff, angst, mature content.
Warnings : This is not what a normal loving relationship is like, this is a work of fiction. fingering (fem. receiving) unprotected sex (kids, please be smart) coming inside. non sexual choking. mention of deaths. explicit (kind of, it’s pretty soft) and non explicit deaths. blood. alcohol consumption. mention of drugs. manipulation. toxic relationship.
Word count : +10.1k.
Plot : Instead of having a guardian angel, you have a guardian demon. His methods are often more violent, but they are more straight forward. What does he have that the regular guardians don’t ? An obsession. You.
You didn’t think being assigned to a demon was a simple mistake, do you ?
A/N : This is part of the Halloween collab made by the incredible @neo-cult-ure. We had to choose a song, mine is Kill for you by Zolita.
Taglist : @plump-peach / @crtznstuff / @kriselynne / @yourmagnanimousholiness / @soothingjae / @peachjaem00 / @chanslaptopp / @luvlyjaemin / @jeongyoonohs / @junghoe / @nakayutasama / @ddaawwnn7
"Say my name." the voice in your ear is hoarse, and it echoes in your head. You feel the man's hands along your arms, and his fingers leave a scorching trail in their paths. "Say my name." he repeats one more time, and you make the mistake of opening your eyes. What you see is not human, the eyes are red, deep and empty of any kind of humanity, you see yourself in the void. "Say my name, and I will show you wonders that humans can only dream of." His voice is urgent, and though you are thinking, you can not remember his name.
The weight of the man's body against yours is both agonizing and reassuring, you must be losing your mind, and he is the reason. His voice, his perfume -a mixture of burnt wood, and something irresistible that you are unable to describe- and the power of his gaze from which you can't take your eyes off. "Come on, my sweet love, say my name." a shiver runs down yuor body, and you arch your back off the bed when you feel the man's tongue running down your throat, and god, you cant to feel more. He is more addicting than any drug you have ever tried.
The window is open, you can feel the cool breeze on your bare body and yet, it feels like you are burning from the inside. Drops of sweat pearl at your hairline. You open your mouth, but no words come out, only an embarrassing moan as the man's teeth pierce through the skin of your neck, but you don't have time to think about the pain because his tongue soothes the wound right away.
Once again, you find yourself unable to move, or to think and the man sits up but you refuse to meet his gaze once more, too afraid to lose yourself in his eyes. To lose yourself completely. "Until I met you, I was convinced that angels were the only creatures capable of such beauty, but you proved me wrong. They should be ashamed to show themselves when you exist, my love."
His voice is suddenly painful, and you feel your heart twist. Maybe it was a trick, because you open your eyes without hesitation, wanting nothing more than to make him feel better. But all you see is a smile. A bloody smile. "If you don't say my name, I'm going to have to force you to say it. It would be a shame to see your pretty tongue being ripped out, don't you think ?" his voice is cold now, as cold as the fingers he wraps around your throat. "Say it !"
Fear, you feel nothing but fear. But what are you afraid of ? To have offended him, or to die ? You do not know. Your breathing is getting slower, and your field of vision is darkening until you can see nothing but darkness, and feel nothing but the cold. Everything is cold, so so cold.
You open your eyes, a sudden coughing fit waking you up fully. Your eyes are full of tears running down your sleep-swollen cheeks and your lips taste metallic, you must have bitten them during the night. You put your hands around your neck where you thought you would still feel the pressure of the stranger's fingers, but nothing.
Your lungs are burning, and you sit up to catch your breath. It's long, and rather difficult but you get there. The room is only illuminated by the rays of sunshine passing through the curtains, and all you see are the small particles of dust flying around the room. Then, your gaze falls on something. Or someone, and a cry broken by your aching throat escape your lips.
As fast as it arrived, the shadow vanishes and you shake your head. You have barely woken up from a terrible dream, your mind is only playing tricks on you, nothing more.
"What the fuck..." you mumble, running your fingers through your hair. You feel the drops of sweat running down your spine, and you don't waste a minute getting out of bed. A cold shower will do you the most good, you think, heading to the only bathroom. Under the jet of water, you think about your dream. The man's touch seemed so real that if you focus you can still feel the burn from his fingers.
It's not the first time you had a dream with this man, it's not the first time he's asked you to say his name, but it's the first time he's become threatening, and scary. You sigh, and come out of the water after rising your hair. In the mirror, you notice a mark on your neck, and you walk closer with a frown. "What ?" the mark vaguely resembles a bite. Right where the man bit you. But it can only be a coincidence, right ? Maybe you did this to yourself during the night.
You come out of the bathroom wearing only a towel around your chest. When you enter the room, you have the unpleasant feeling of being watched. Yet when you turn, you see nothing but the mirror hanging from the door. You are going crazy, there is no other explanation. If your mother was there, she would tell you that it was the fault of your excessive consumption of caffeine.
You sit on the edge of the bed, and the drops of water flowing from the tips of your hair mix with the perspiration. Since when your room has become this hot ? The summer is coming to an end, you should not be suffocating.
You forget all about the heat when you feel something on your shoulder, but once again, when you turn around, nothing. Maybe you should have listened to Kun when he adviced you, and Ten, not to use a ouija board in the apartment without reading the instructions first. Maybe you called something malicious, and you are going to get possessed ? At least the thought helps you calm your heart pouding in your chest before breaking into a fit of giggle. Crazy.
The front door swings open, and you stop laughing immediately. You hear the sound of shoes swinging against the drawer and get up from the bed. You do not have time to go to the door because it opens on Ten, he is breathless. "I'm going to die. It's too hot !" he yells, before falling on the bed. Sweat made his blonde hair stick to his forehead, and you resist the temptation to pull them back. "I think the aircon is broken." you mumble while Ten nods.
"I tried to turn it on this morning, but nothing, so I went to the neighbords and they are having trouble with theirs too. I think it's the end Y/n." you roll your eyes, biting your lower lip. "By the way, did you bring someone back last night ?" he asks, sitting up on his elbows.
"What ? Of course not!" one of the rules of the roommates is not to bring anyone home without telling the other so that they can find someone to keep them for the night. "Eh, don't like, I heard you talking with someone." you shake your head, you didin't bring anyone back last night.. well not that you remember. "Maybe I was on the phone ?" the question is not for Ten, but for you. Because now that you think about it, you have no memories of the day before.
You came home from work, yes, but the rest ? You do not know. You went to bed, since you woke up in your sheets and in pajamas, but nothing else. "Are you okay ?" Ten asks in a worried voice, and you nod. "Yeah, I think I'm just tired from work." Ten doesn't look convinced, but there is nothing more he can do. "Yeah, well, you should take is slow. Have some rest."
Finally, Ten gets up from the bad and walks out of the bedroom. You take the opportunity to put on light clothes. You could've just stayed naked, but that is not possible with Ten in the apartment. You do not need to go to work today, and with the heat, you don't plan on going out, so you lie in bed, your eyes on the ceiling. You need some explanation about yesterday, about your dream, and the bite mark on your neck, but for now, you also need some rest.
"You know, if you want to see me, you just have to say my name, it's not that hard." the voice is back, and you feel an unpleasant chill going down your spine. You sit up in bed and notices that is is now dark, you must have slept for several hours. You are alone in the room, and yet, the voice sounded so close, as if the man was lying next to you. "Who is here ?" you ask in a trembling voice.
You do not expect any answer, that's why when a small laugh echoes in the room, you stop moving. "You should know that." the voice responds, and you wonder if you aren't just sleeping and having a vivid dream since they seem to be more and more frequent lately. "I've been following you for a while." the voice resumes calmly, and you blink.
"Haven't you ever had the feeling of being watched, of being followed wherever you go ?" you nod. "It's me. It's always been me. I'm always with you. It's my job after all." his work ? You are lost, and he seems to feel it as he picks up. "Say my name, and you'll understand, everything will me so much easier, I promise."
You frown, but why is he so insistent ? You do not even know his damn name. "Are you there because of the ouija board ?" you ask in a small voice, and the laughter that escapes from the void gives you goosebumps. "The ouija board ? My angel, this is only material, you can't call anything through a simple wooden board, especially not me." you suddenly feel stupid for asking the question, but you had to know.
"Your name.." you whisper. "how am I supposed to know it ?" you feel the mattress dips under an invisible weight and you culd up on yourself. "I've told you my name, so many times, but you don't listen. I'll make you remember it this time." you feel a warm breath on your face, and a pression against your lips. But before you can react, the ghostly touch slides down your neck, and the pain is the same as in her previous dream when he bit you. Except this time, it's not pleasure that you feel, but real pain.
"Open your eyes, and you'll have the answer you're looking for." at these words, a sharp pain makes you open your mouth, wide, as if one had just plunged your arm in boiling water. You try to scream but no sound comes out, the pain is too much, you are already losing all of your senses, you can feel your limbs going numb, and once again, the darkness sunrrounds you.
When you open your eyes, you are in bed, and the room is still illuminated by the sun through the curtains. You look at your alarm clock, and notice that you have barely dozed off ten minutes. You rub your eyes, your eyelids are heavy, you have the impression of waking up from a very long nap. It takes a good minute for you to come back to your senses, and when you turn your head, your gaze stops on a mark on your arm.
Not a mark. A name.
A name is like engraved in your flesh on several centimeters. You hiss when you run your fingers over the wounds, it's perfectly healed and yet so painful. You read the name a few times but do not dare to say it out loud, you are afraid of the consequences. You pull yourself out of bed with difficulty and leave the room. You have no choice, you can't keep it to yourself any longer, you need to talk about it, and Ten will have no choice but to listen to you.
You find him in the leaving room, lying on the floor, fanning himself with an old magazine. "Ten.." your voice must be shaky because Ten immediately straightens up, and he stands up when he sees you holding your arm. His first thought is that you fell out of bed and broke your arm, but when he cotices the lines of your skin, he stops. "What is that ?" you shrug, and when he approches, you whine for him not to touch.
"Jae.." you shake your head vigorously; "Don't say it, please." you are ready to beg for him to remain silent, but he shuts his mouth before you have the chance to do so. He takes your free hand and directs you to the sofa when you sit. He takes a seat on the coffee table opposite and looks at the name over and over again. "It's weird." Ten looks calm, unlike you. You are clearly panicking. You heart is hammering in your chest, and soon, you can feel the tears runinng down your cheeks. You didn't even know you were on the verge of crying until now.
"Hey, don't cry, it's fine." Ten whispers, cupping your face in his hands so his eyes meet yours. He reads nothing but confusion and fear. "What's wrong with me Ten ?" your voice breaks his heart, so low and quavering. "Seems to be your.. your guardian ?" you tilt your head, urgning Ten to continue. "Our guardian angel. They manifest themselves when they feel that we need help. But they are here long before, they are always near us to be sure that they can help us even is we cannot see or feel them. Saying their name is the only way to make them appear, but- but it's never like that."
He's talking about the mark on your arm, you know it. Ten had a visit from his guardian angel when he was barely 15, because he needed it, and he doesn't have any irreversible marks on his skin, and he's not traumatized by the experience, unlike you. "Guardian angels aren't meant to hurt you, it's quite the opposite." the more he talks, the more you feel lost. Why you ? What avec you done in your previous life to receive such treatment ? "Maybe there was a mistake, and you got a demon instead of an angel." Ten is kidding, but that simple thought could answer so many of your questions.
"But- but what if it was true ? What is if it was a demon ?" you ask, and Ten shakes his head. "If it was a possibility, don't you think we would know ?" you don't want to think about the possilibities of why you've never heard of this kind of thing, so you sigh, lowering your head. "Until we know more, don't say the name, and try to clear your mind of all this, okay ?" You nod, it's not like you have any other choice.
The following days are alike for you, except for the growing sensation of being watched and followed wherever you go. You try somehow not to look at your arm, but it's difficult. It's like a magnet. After the fifth day, you walk through the apartment door with a long sigh, it's been a long day. Ten is absent, he warned you that he would spend the evening with some of his childhood friends. Perfect.
You put your things in the bedroom, and you walk to the living room to settle on the sofa. You turn on the television, not to watch it, but to have some backgroun noises, and you look at your arm. What's the worst that could happen ? You shrug, and take a deep breath. "Jaehyun." you whisper, and when you see that nothing is happening, you speak in a louder voice. "Jaehyun."
The television turns off, and the lights flicker around you. You grab a pillow, as if it would help protect yourself in the event of a sudden attack from the stranger. "Jaehyun." you repeat one last time, and a shape begins to materialize in front of the sofa. The man's face is the last to appear, and yes, that's the face you've seen so much in your dreams. He watches you curiously, his head tilted to the side. He doesn't seem to believe that you can finally see him, that you finally called his name.
"You did it, you said my name." he says in a voice that's more softer that what you were expecting and walk over. If the sofa wasn't glued to the wall, you would've gone over it to escape. But when he sees your reaction, he throws both hands in the hair. "Don't be afraid, I'm not going to do anything to you." his voice is meant to be comforting, and you get up from the sofa to observe him, not without letting go of your trusty cushion.
"You said if I said your name, I would understand everything. Explain yourself, because I feel like I'm going crazy." Jaehyun feels the weakness in your voice, and he blames himself for it, but he couldn't take it anymore, he couldn't stay away from you any longer. Being near you is a vital need for the demon. "Calm down, I'll tell you everything." he sits down on the armchair, his legs crossed like a child. With a nod of his heads, he bids you to take a seat, and you obey.
"I must warn you immediately that I don't have the answer you are looking for. I don't know why you were assigned to a demon, and not an angel." if you had knows that you wouldn't get the answer to the question you deem the most important, you wouldn't have called his name. But you'll listen to him, and you'll see if you can send him back eventually. "All I know is that I've been following you for a very long time, and that I would never hurt you."
The demon has a soft voice, but that doesn't stop you from not believing those words. "You tried to kill me the other day, in my dream." Jaehyun shakes his head, a thin smile on his face. Speaking of his face, you notice that he is very handsome with pretty dimples making him look almost childish. He looks like an angel. "It's not what you think, you had to wake up, and you had to say my name." He gets up, and walks over to you. "I promise you, that will never happen in real life. You are under my protection, and nothing will ever happen to you. "
He was right, nothing happened to you.
When you say nothing happened to you, nothing happened to you at all. Your life was already not very exciting, so with the arrival of the young demon, it became even worse. The boys who dare to approch you are quickly sent away because of Jaehyun who does not seem to appreciate their presence around you. Even Ten doesn't spend as much time with you as he used to, and it hurts.
"Why are you ignoring me ?" you ask, dropping down on the sofa next to Ten who doesn't take his eyes off his phone. He shrugs, and you frown. "Tell me, what did I do wrong ? I miss you." you whisper, and Ten sighs before putting down his phone. Well, hetting his attention is a success, now the conversation. "It's your little dog. He follows you everywhere, it's impossible to have a moment with you without him showing up and threatening to smash my knees."
You shake your head. "What are you talking about ? Jaehyun has never threatened to smash your knees, he is not threatening anyone, he just want to make sure I'm safe." Ten's laughter is cold, and extremely sarcastic. "Please, this is not protection, this is unhealthy possessiveness." Ten sits cross-legged and watches you. "Jaehyun does everything in his power to keep people away from you, Y/n, including me, yet god knows I wouldn ever hurt you."
At the simple mention of his name, the demon appears in the living room. Ten jolts, and winces at the burning smell that seems to follow Jaehyun everywhere he does, but you are used to it. Jaehyun frown as he walks over to the sofa where he looks at the two of you. Seeing you together created something very unpleasant in his chest. Jealousy, yes, that's it. "What is going on ?" he asks, and you are always surprised to hear how much his tone of voice changes when he is not talking to you. From soft and soothing, his voice becomes cold and as sharp as a knife.
"Nothing, nothing is going on !" Ten growns as he gets up from the sofa. He could confront the demon about his behavior, but he doesn't want to do it in front of you. So he walks around him, looking at him with utter disgust, and he locks himself in his room, slamming the door on the way. "Did I do something wrong ?" Jaehyun asks, sitting down next to you, his head tilted. He looks innocent, but he is not, he's so far from being innocent. Even though you've never seen him hurt anyone, you know he's done it before, and can do it at any moment.
Yes, you learned to appreciate Jaehyun, but that doesn't stop you from knowing deep down that demons are up to no good most of the time.
"Ten told me you threatened to harm him." you say, and Jaehyun tenses up, but only for a second before he regains his composure. "What ? But why would I do something like this ! He doesn't like me, he's just looking for a reason to get rid of me." he mumbles, and you do not answer.
"What are you doing ?" Jaehyun's voice startle you, you didn't expect to see him in the bathroom doorway, watching you. "What are you doing here ? Shouldn't you be taking a bath in hell or something ?" Jaehyun is used to that kind of little mean jokes, especially when you are tired, so he choose to not respond. "Are you going out ? Where are we going ?" he asks with the excitement of a child, and you turn to him, shaking your head.
"I'm going out. You stay here." You explain, but it doesn't suit Jaehyun whose expression turns sour. "No, no, I'm coming with you. I can't leave you alone." you sigh. "The goal of a guardian is to give advice, to be sure that we are making the right decisions, not to follow up wherever we go." you mumble. It is not right that Jaehyun is everywhere with you. He has to protect you, yes, you understand tha part, but it's getting too much, he is invasible and you are suffocating.
"I'm not like other guardians." he growls, and you fold your arms accross your chest, looking at the demon's reflection in the mirror. You are too tired to argue. "I'm not asking for you opinion, Jaehyun you stay here while I go out. I don't need to have you glued to my ass."
You will later learn that you should never have said that.
Jaehyun was absent for the following days.
No matter how much you called his name over and over, he never answered. Even the feeling of being followed and watched stopped, and for a moment, you wondered if you had scared the demon away. And you got used to your new daily life very well. You shouldn't have.
Earlier in the evening, you were persuaded by Ten to joing him at a party organized by several of his co-workers to celebrate his promotion. Normally you would've stayed home to red, but tonight, you wanted to have fun. And it is for this reason that you currently find yourself pressed against the wall of a room of which you don't know the owner, kissing a boy of who you are not sure to have understood the name. Joe ? John ? Johnny ? You do not know, you couldn't hear it with the hubbub of the guests and the music.
You close your eyes when you feel the boy's hands slip under your t-shirt. His fingers are cold, which contrasts with your burning skin. "Coming was a great idea." he whispers close to your ear, his warm breath making you shiver softly. His lips slide down your neck for warm, and wet kisses, and you take the opportunity to unbuckle his belt and remode the button that holds his hean in place. With your foot, you slide it down until it falls loose around his ankles, so yuo can have access to the obvious tent in his briefs.
You stroke his cock through the fabric, and you smile as he tenses, his breath hitching against your throat. Your mouth open with a loud moan when you feel Johnny's teeth dig nto the skin between your neck and shoulder. The pain is extremely pleasant, and you press harder against his dick. "You are so hot." you smile, and play with the waistband of his brieds, snapping it against the skin of his hip. "So I've been told."
Soon, Johnny's lips are back on yours, and you can taste the alcohol he drank earlier, and he you had been drinking more than you had smoked, you would find it nice, but for now, the mix is pretty disgusting. Johnny breaks the kiss to catch his breath, and you looks into his eyes as you slowly pulls down his underwear. You frown when he opens his eyes wide, and before you can move, he is thrown back and slumped against the opposite wall.
"What the fuck!" you whisper when your gaze lands on Jaehyun. His eyes have nothing beautiful anymore, they are dark and frightening, like in your dreams. His breathing his heavy and rapid, he is enraged, you call feel it in the tense atmosphere of the room. "Jaehyun, what have you done !" you say when you finally come out of your torpor. As if he had just noticed your presence, Jaehyun turns to you and.. and he smiles. "I'm protecting you, my love."
"He was not hurting me !" you walk around the demon to join Johnny whose eyes are closed. Even in the dim light of the bedroom, you can see the blood streaming down his forehead. "Hey, hey, can you hear me ?" you asks. You are about to put your hand on him to shake him when Jaehyun grabs your wrist to force you on your feet. "He was going to hurt you, I felt it!" he says.
You try to extricate yourself from his grip, but he's much stronger. He pulls you against his chest, the heat emanating from his skin is strong, and he puts an arm around your waist to make you you do not move. "You can't trust them, Y/n, I'm the only one who'll never hurt you." His lips are close to yours, and like his body, his breath his hot.
Love ? You didn't know that a demon was capable of feeling anything like love. And why you ? What do you have more than other humans ? "Do you remember what I told you in your dream ?" He asks and you tilt your head, trying to remember. "I told you that I would show you wonders that humans can only dream of. And I will, but for that, you have to stay with me. You have to trust me."
You bite the inside of your cheek. Jaehyun is the dream boy. And when he behaves like a random human, you forget everything. But it is not an average boy you have in front of you, no, it's a demon, and yet..
"Is it true ?" you ask, and he frowns. "Do you really love me ?" he nods. "I love you, more than anyone will ever be able to love you." when he feels your fingers on his face, he smiles so fondly that he looks like a real angel. After all, demons are angels too, they just chose to follow a different god, you think.
"What are we going to do ?" you ask, glancing down at Johnny's limp body and Jaehyun sighs, annoyed at being cut off during such an intimate moment he's been waiting for. "I'll take care of it, you should go home." finally, he releases his hold on your waist, and you take a step back. You retrive your jacket that Johnny had thrown on the bed on entering the room, and you turn one last time when you open the door.
Jaehyun is hunched over Johnny's body, and if you weren't so confused by the whole situation and inebriated, you could swear you saw a red glow shine in the demon's eyes. You shake your head, and leave, closing the door behind you. In the hallway, you meet a guest who is about to open the bedroom door. "If I were you, I wouldn't go in there. Someone threw up, it's not pretty." the person, a boy with long blond hair growls and turns around. "Fuck, I saw no one in the fucking bedrooms."
You find Ten in the crowd, glass in hand, so you make you way to your roommate. You put a hand on his shoulder and lean in to whisper in his ear. "I'm not feeling well, I'm going home." he nods, before answering. "You want me to come with you ?" you refuse, explaining that it was his evening, he should take advantage of it and have fun. You promise to send him a message when you get home, and with that, you leave the house.
You take a deep breath when you step outside. The air is cold, and rain is starting to fall, just what you needed to cool your burning skin. You look at Ten's car parked in the driveway, and sigh when you realize you'll have to walk.
It is while walking in a dark alley of the city that you begin to regret the sensation of being watched from afar that Jaehyun gives you, because even if you have never admitted it, you feel safe. But now, you can't feel a thing, and you keep looking over your shoulder to make sure you are not being followed. But it must be your lucky day, because you arrive in front of your apartment in one piece, without having had any altercation with a drunk person.
The partment is empty, and silent.
You walk to the bedroom, and get rid of your wet clothes that smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke. You pull on a hoodie you find on the back of your office chair, and sit on the edge of your bed. All alone with your thoughts, you force yourself not to think of Johnny, and his inert body. You don't even know if he was still alive when you left, and what will Jaehyun do ? Is he going to call an ambulance ? Pass it off as an alcohol-related accident ?
You start to shake, your eyes filling with tears, you shouldn't have left, you should have helped Johnny. A sob escapes your lips, and it is at this precise moment that you feel a touch on your hands which are placed on your thighs. The contact is warm, and though you are still alone, you know it's Jaehyun. It's always Jaehyun.
"Jaehyun ?" you ask in a small voice, and you expect him to appear, but the touch on your hands disappears. After several unanswered attempts, you give up and slip under the blanket. You fall asleep in a few minutes, lulled by the sounds of the traffic outside.
You open your eyes when you hear movement near you. A form is watching over you next to the bed. "Jaehyun". you whisper, and feel a warm hand on your cheek. "You came back." your voice is full of sleep, and you push yourself on the side to make room for the demon. You have never invited him to bed, so he hesitates for a moment before lying down next to you. You lay your head on Jaehyun's chest. Is it because of the fatigue ? Alcohol ? Or the heat he gives off ? You don't know. You apprently lose the power of knowledge when the demon is around.
You feel the demon tighten, so you put a hand on his stomach. "I thought you weren't coming back, like the last few days." Jaehyun has to bend down to hear your voice, it's so low, and when he understands, he shakes his head. "I'm sorry I didn't come back." you shrug looking up at him. "I missed you, that's all."
The demon chuckles, and runs his thumb over your lower lip. "Pretty mouth tells dirty lies." he whispers, and you shake your head, sitting up. "You do not believe me ?" his lack of response is sufficient for you to understand.
You do something you never thought you would do, you kiss him softly. But the contact is quickly broken by Jaehyun who watches you in the half-light, incredulous. "Why did you do that ?" you sigh, you don't know yourself, but you still open your mouth. "You love me, right ? More than anyone can ever love me ?" when he nods, you kiss him once more, and he responds this time. If at the beginning the kiss was slow and gentle, it become a little more passionate, more feverish.
"Come on, you need to sleep, you've had a hell of a day." Jaehyun whispers against your lips, and you sigh. You lie down appropriately, and Jaehyun pulls you to his chest. It's strange to hear a heart beat in the chest of a demon, but you close your eyes. Yes, you had an exhausting day.
After this evening, the relationship between you and your demon changed considerably. If before you did everything possible to get rid of him, now you no longer seem capable to go a minute without him near you. Whether it's by being there, or just a reassuring presence. And Jaehyun is delighted. That's what he always wanted, to be there for you, and with you as much as he wants. For the first time since he first saw you, he no longer feels that nasty pressure in his chest when he sees you getting close to a boy, or when he can't be with you. He feels light, and free.
This morning, when he wakes up, he feels a weight on his hips. He opens his eyes groaning at the bright light in the room, but when his gaze lands on you, he smiles. He puts his hands on your waist, and you lean in to kiss him. Jaehyun wonders how you always tastes sweet, but he is not complaining, it's enjoyable, and addicting. Everything is addicting when it comes to you.
"What did I do to deserve such a sweet treat ?" he asks after breaking the kiss, and he chuckles softly when you case his lips with a pout. "You have to answer my question first if you want another treat." Jaehyun's hands slide under your sleeping shirt, and you shiver slightly. "Can you still manipulate my dreams ?" the demon remains silent for a while, but his smile is worth a thousand words. "Why, did you dream of something special ?" he asks, and you bite your bottom lip.
You lean down, nestling your face in the crook of his neck. He smells like sleep, and you. "I dreamed that you made me scream your name. That you kept telling me that I was yours, and that you would do everything in you power to stay close to me."
Jaehyun nods every now and then, and his smile growns. It's almost carnivorous the way he smiles. "That's exactly what I would do, if I could manipulate your dreams, of course." he answers, and you sit up. "Oh, so you didn't ?" he shakes his head, and you roll your eyes. You know he is lying, so you intend to make him pay. It is extremely unpleasant and frustrating to wake up from a wet dream. You buck your hips, and the demon groans weakly.
He opens his eyes, and you can see lust growing in that dark and frightening void. "If you haven't manipulated my dream, maybe you should show me if you are able to do that in real life." he smirks, and flip you onto the bed of hover over you. You laugh softly, pressing your hand to your mouth, it's too early to wake up Ten. "That's what we're not going to do." Jaehyun whispers, grabbing your wrist to pull it off your mouth. "I want to hear you. I want to hear every sound you make, my love."
He places a tender kiss on your lips, and he slides his lips down your neck. He repeatedly bites the skin of your collarbone, and then your throat. He loves your throat for some reason. Your hands rest in Jaehyun's hair, and when he looks up to ask permission to remove the t-shirt he's been playing with the hem of, you nod. The piece of tissue ends up on the floor. He kisses your chest, and he slowly moves down to your stomach, never lifting his lips from your hot skin.
He lowers the waistband of your pants, and he kisses your hips, he's soft, so far from what you have been expecting. You squirm with each of his kisses, and you feel so wet, it's embarrassing. "Can I ?" he asks, and you nod vigorously. He laughs at your eagerness, and he pulls down your pants and panties and the same time. They join your shirt on the floor. You suddenly feel very shy, and all you want is to curl up. Jaehyun myst feel the change in your behavior because he looks up.
"Do you want us to stop ?" you shake your head, and urge him to come back up, which he does immediately. When he kisses you, you circle his waist with your legs, your hands already working to remove his pants. He's already half hard, and you lick his lips. You could make this last for hours, but you really need to have him inside of you as soon as possible. Hell foreplay.
"You are so perfect." he whispers, and you slide your hand over his cock. You use the precum that has built up on the tip to stroke it slowly. Jaehyun lets his head fall in the crook of your neck, and his hot breath hits against your shivering skin. You're already sweating, and so is Jaehyun, yet you haven't done anything. You continue the movements of your hand until he is completely hard, following one of the veins with the tip of your index, and it is the turn of the demon's hand to find itself between your thighs. You bite Jaehyun's lips as his fingers spread your folds to collect the slick on the pad of his fingers.
For a moment -much too short- he plays with your clit with the tips of his fingers, and soon one of them is rubbing against your hole. Slowly, far too gently, he eases his first finger inside, and you moan weakly. "Come on, please .." you whisper, you do not know what you're asking for, but your brain is already turning into mush. It's Jaehyun's fault, his warmth, his scent, his hands, everything. He adds a second finger, then moves slowly back and forth, watching for any of your reactions.
When he crooks his fingers, and he reaches that little bundle of nerves that makes you roll your eyes and moan his name, he adds a third finger, and he speeds up, his thumb on your clit. "Stop stop, it's enough." you mumble, and Jaehyun withdraws his fingers. You whine at the feeling of emptiness, but is soon replaced by the head of Jaehyun's cock. He spits into his hand to lubricate his cock before returning to his original position. He puts his hands on either side of your face, caging you. And slowly, very slowly, he eases himself inside.
"You are so tight." you close your eyes, arching your back off the bed when he bottoms out you feel the bones of his hips flush against your ass, and you refrain from not whining to make him move. You spent the past few weeks blatantly ignoring Jaehyun, and now you are acting like you're going to die if he doesn't fuck you within a minute. "Move, please."
Jaehyun pulls out until only the head is still inside, and he snaps his hips. "Oh fuck." he growls. His voice is deep, and sultry, and it makes your head spin. You wrap your arms around his neck, and pulls his face to yours for a long kiss, it's only teeth and tongue but you don't care. The pace of his thrusts is fast, and you grip Jaehyun's hair between your fingers. He moans lowly at the pain, and it's a sound you don't think you can get enough of.
“Jaehyun, Jaehyun ..” you mewl when he snaps his hips a little harder. You let your legs drop from around his waist, and you already feel that familiar warmth in the pit of your stomach. You want to reach your climax as much as you want this moment to last forever. You grip his biceps, and when he gives a rather deep thrust, you dig your nails into his skin, hard enough to draw blood. Black blood.
Jaehyun curses under his breath, and you close your eyes. You who didn't want to wake Ten up know it was a waste of time, between your moans, Jaehyun's growls and the bed banging against the wall. Poor guy, he might give you a piece of his mind later, but you don't have time to think about it, too busy getting lost in pleasure. His rhythm is erratic, he must be close to his orgasm too.
"Are you going to cum for me, my princess?" he asks, and you nod. Jaehyun bites the skin of your neck, once more, and that's enough to make you black out. You see nothing, and hears nothing more than the beating of your heart and Jaehyun saying over and over that you are his, and only his. "I will never let anyone approach or hurt you. Mine."
When you regain consciousness Jaehyun is still inside you, but his movements are slow, coming down from his high. Your thighs are shaking, and you are sticky with sweat. Jaehyun lies on top of you, being careful not to crush you with his weight, and you run your hands on his back to stroke his burning skin. "It was good, so good." you whisper and he nods.
You remain silent, both far too busy coming back on earth after a mindblowing orgasm.
"I hate you !" the voice comes from the next room, Ten's. And you look at each other before laughing softly. Jaehyun comes out, and you scrunch your nose up at the feeling of emptiness, and at the sticky cum sliding down your thighs. "I'm tired." you mumble in a sleepy voice. You do not know what Jaehyun does next, all you know is that when you open your eyes a little later, Jaehyun is behind you, your legs are tangled, and his breathing is regular. You go back to sleep peacefully after that.
"You fucked a demon."
This is not what you expected when you left your room this morning. Your legs are numb, and your neck is painful from Jaehyun's many bites. Ten is on the couch, his laptop poised precariously in his lap. "I fucked a demon." you repeat, sitting down next to him.
"I didn't think you could fall so low." he says with a sigh, and you turn your gaze to Ten with a frown. You have had one-night stands with various kind of students students, and he never had the nerve to make that kind of comment. It's strange coming from Ten, but after all he's right, he's a demon, not just some stupid college student who sells drugs to pay for his porn's subscriptions.
"Oh, don't be like that Ten." you sigh, and he shrugs, refocusing on his computer. After a minute or two, you nudge him to get his attention. "Have you heard from Johnny?" you ask, suddenly curious about the condition of the poor boy who was unlucky enough to run into Jaehyun.
"Johnny? Why? Did you see him somewhere?" Ten puts his computer on the coffee table, and he turns to you. He's not making fun of you, he's serious when he talks. "What do you mean ?" you ask, trying to control the tremors in your voice. "No one has seen Johnny since the party."
The news hits you like a slap in the face, you thought he would be on his feet with a few missing memories, not that he would be actually missing. You get up from the couch, and without a word for Ten, you head for the bedroom. Jaehyun is still sleeping, so you pick up a pillow and swings it over him.
"Jaehyun, wake up!" it takes him several minutes to open his eyes, frowning. After a night like the one you had just spent, he expected a sweet awakening, and a few kisses, not being hit with a pillow. "What? What's going on?" you cross your arms against your chest. "Johnny. What have you done to Johnny? No one's seen him since..since the party!"
Jaehyun sits up, resting his back against the headboard. He rubs his eyes, and he takes his sweet time waking up before opening his mouth. "I did the right thing." if he thinks you are going to be satisfied with that answer, he is wrong. "The right thing? The right thing was to call an ambulance, not make him disappear! Where is he?" your voice is more urgent but you have to be silent so as not to attract Ten's attention.
"Why are you so interested in that?" he asks in a cold, sharp voice. He gets up from the bed with a smooth and graceful movement, and he walks towards you until you are locked between his body and the wall. "Do you like him? Is that why?" you shake your head, avoiding his threatening gaze. "Don't say such things! I don't like him, I just want to know why you did that!"
A low growl is heard, and if you could, you would try to become one with the wall. You squeak when Jaehyun's fingers rest around your throat. He takes a step forward, and he's so close that you can feel his breath against your lips. "You're mine, Y/n, I did what it took to keep him from coming back. And I would do it again. Again, and again. Until you figure out you don't need nobody. You only need me, do you understand me correctly? "
You grab his wrist as his grip tightens around your throat. You are already starting to feel the burning in your lungs from the lack of oxygen. "Jaehyun .. please I didn't mean to hurt you." your voice is weak, and so trembling that you wonder if he understood a single word of what you just said. "Mine." he growls before loosening his hold on your throat. You slide down the wall, tears streaming freely down your cheeks. You takes a long and difficult breath, it's extremely painful.
When you look up, Jaehyun is gone.
You feel stupid. You feel so silly for thinking that Jaehyun really loved you, and that you too could love him back. But you were wrong. It's not love Jaehyun has for you, it's an awful obsession. He doesn't show you what true love is, he manipulates you every day. And he knows how to do it, since you fell into his arms so easily after he ... after he killed Johnny.
Now that you have taken a step back, you realise that you should have been more vigilant, that you should have stayed with Johnny, and called someone yourself. You don't know what suddenly happened for you to give yourself to Jaehyun. Maybe that would have kept your life from turning into hell.
Jaehyun has made it his personal mission to make your life hell on earth.
He's always there, behind you, watching you rear, making sure no one is approaching you. When someone dares to approach you, you find yourself with blood on your clothes, and a corpse at your feet. Sad to say, but after a while you are no longer surprised. You no longer have nightmares, since nothing can be worse than your life.
Today is no different.
You woke up in Jaehyun's arms, feeling like you chest was crushed in a vise. Feeling his breath against the back of your neck is a sensation that you can't stand anymore. His hands give you chills when you thinks of all the blood they have shed. His smile is no longer angelic. And his laugh? You hear it everywhere you go. You can't do that anymore.
Lucky for you, Ten is the only person he hasn't touched yet. But for how long ? Ten is also the only person who can keep you grounded. Whenever he sees you falling back into your bad habit of letting yourself be bewitched by Jaehyun's sweet words, he is there to slap some sense into you, to remind you that you are better than that. If Ten wasn't there, you do not know where you would be.
When Jaehyun's grip on your waist loosens, you take the opportunity to slip out of bed. You take the clothes you had prepared the day before and leave the room. In the bathroom, you take a shower to get rid of the invisible dirt you feel every time Jaehyun puts his hands on you. You get dressed, and you find Ten in the kitchen. He's drinking a cup of coffee, and when he sees your face, he hands you his cup. You need it more than him.
"Are you sure ?" he asks, and you nod. Yes, you are sure, you have no other choice. "You can count on me." you walk up to Ten and places a kiss on his cheek, then turns on your heels. You put on your shoes, and after taking a long breath, you leave the apartment. You're not working today, otherwise you should have been planning this for another day.
When Jaehyun wakes up, he is surprised to be alone. The place next to him is cold, which means that you were long gone. He stands up, and he leaves the room. He searches the apartment, but all he finds is Ten and the disapproving look on his face. "Where is she ?" he asks and Ten shrugs. "She said she had to see a co-worker." that's enough to put Jaehyun in pure rage. Ten swallows hard as Jaehyun disappears, leaving behind that sickening smell of burning that he cannot get rid of. This is time for him to do something.
Doyoung is already waiting in front of the cafe when you arrive, and he smiles when he sees you. You approache, and you accept the hug he offers you. He's noticed that you haven't been yourself lately, and while he doesn't know the real reason behind this change in behavior, he's ready to help. Poor thing.
"You look tired." he says, and you sigh. You could cry, and fall into Doyoung's arms if you wanted to, but you can't, not now. "I am. Do you mind if we have coffee at my place? Ten is at work." he nods, of course he doesn't mind. You take his hand, and he intertwines your fingers. This feeling is now foreign to you who are used to the constant heat of Jaehyun's body, so feeling Doyoung's cold fingers is like comfort to you. Normality still exists.
The walk to the apartment is short. You make conversation with Doyoung who is completely oblivious to what is happening. You feel it. You feel Jaehyun behind you. You feel the holes he drills in your back with his gaze. You could even hear his heartbeat if you wanted to, heart ready to come out of his chest.
"After you." he says, like a gentleman, when you open the front door of the apartment. The apartment is empty, as you thought. Kind of. You walk towards the living room after letting go of Doyoung's hand, and you instantly miss the contact. You crave normal physical contact from a human being, it's crazy. "You want some coffee ?" he nods.
You walk to the kitchen, your hands resting on the edge of the counter, and you breathe slowly. You are ready to throw up, you are so nervous. Immediately, you find yourself leaning forward on the counter, one hand resting on you head to keep you from moving. "What do you think you're doing?" you've never heard Jaehyun be so threatening, yet he has been in the recent weeks. It's the last straw for him.
"I'm not doing anything Jaehyun, please let me go." the countertop tile is cold against your cheek, but it helps you keep your head in check. "You're really trying to make me angry! You haven't understood yet that you don't need anyone but me. I'm sure it's Ten, I should have gotten rid of him a long time ago. He's the one keeping you away from me." he releases the pressure on your head, and he walks to the living room.
When Doyoung's gaze lands on Jaehyun, he frowns. He certainly didn't expect the boy to grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him up to him. "She's mine." the rest is a mix of screams and blood splashing on the walls. You watch the scene, and you don't move. You cry, you can't help it, and a sob escapes your lips when Doyoung's gaze meets yours one last time. "I'm sorry." you articulate. You had no other choice.
Jaehyun drops Doyoung's limp body, and he turns to you. He is about to take a step forward when he finds himself blocked by an invisible force field. "What is happening ?" he growls. He tries to move, but he is unable to come out of this small circle protected by something that is drawing a lot of energy from him.
"It's the only solution, Jaehyun." you murmur, voice broken by another sob. You look at the ground, and Jaehyun follows your gaze. He was so angry that he hadn't noticed the absence of the coffee table in the living room, and the white chalk drawing on the dark wood floor. A pentacle was drawn there by Ten when you went out to retrieve your victim. "Why why !" he screams, and you take a step back.
You know he can't reach you, you spent hours researching it, the best way to trap a demon, and yet you can't help but feel your organs tighten with fear. "I can't do this anymore, Jaehyun." Jaehyun punches his fists against the invisible force field, and the more he does so, the redder his eyes turn. If you get close, you're sure you could see the flames of the underworld reflecting.
"I love you, Y/n! I love you more than .." he starts, but you cut him off. "Yes, more than anyone will ever be able to love me. But that's not love, Jaehyun." you can't describe the anger you reads on the demon's face. "I've killed for you baby, who else could say that?" he's using a nickname you liked for a while, but that only reinforces your decision. "Killing for me wasn't the best way to prove me your love."
"I killed an angel for you! I killed an angel to be with you!" you open your eyes wide to his words. "You- you killed my guardian angel." he nods, a proud expression on his demonic face. So everything that happened was not because of a mistake, but because Jaehyun wanted to be with you. Because he needed to be near you. "You are a monster."
This is the obvious. Jaehyun laughs and you feel your blood boiling inside of you. "Ten, you can come, it's okay." The apartment was not really empty, Ten was hiding in his room waiting for the signal. He stops in front of Jaehyun, and he can't help but smile when he sees that the demon can't reach him. "Oh, the poor little demon can't do anything, that's too bad." you roll your eyes, of course Ten was going to tease him.
It is your turn to approach the pentacle on the ground, and Jaehyun. Despite all the anger in his eyes, you can also see how much love he has for you. And you know that no one can ever love you as much as he does, that's right. But you don't mind, you don't need love like that. You need pure love that will never hurt you. If you can ever trust someone after that.
"You know, for a while, I really thought I could love you, Jaehyun." you explain in a tender voice. "But you're nothing but a monster, you don't deserve to be loved. And you don't deserve to love. At least here you won't hurt anyone anymore." you look at the demon whose face break into something you can't explain, an expression you had never seen on him. It looks like..understanding, pain, and mixed with that natural anger. It's the last time you'll ever see this face, and deep down, it hurts, but it's for the better. You leave the living room.
Ten is in front of the door, with the suitcases you packed the day before. You are ready to start a new life, far from here, far from Jaehyun and the blood he shed in this city of doom. You open the door, and you and Ten walk out of the apartment. The last thing you hear before the elevator door closes are Jaehyun's screams. He is begging for release, begging for forgiveness, promises he can never keep.
"It's you and me against the world, once again." Ten says, and he takes you hand. Yes, it's just the two of you now. You, and a trapped demon.
Trapped, but for how long ?
#nct#nct imagines#jaehyun imagines#nct scenarios#jaehyun scenarios#nct smut#jaehyun smut#jung jaehyun#the tags better work istg
909 notes
·
View notes
Text
The beauty & the sith
Pairing: Darth maul x Jedi
Warnings: Canon details changed for plot purposes. Mentions of death. The battle of Naboo.
Summery: A tale as old as time. A young Jedi falls into the trap of a careless sith to protect her father.
Authors note: this will be a series, hopefully
“I’m going to the library, father” (y/n) said as she fixed her lightly colored robes and clipped her saber to her side. Her father, Qui-Gon, looked up at her from his scroll with a soft smile. (Y/n) was his only child, not his biological daughter, his niece rather. The Jedi let him take her in after the death of his sister, he raised her as his own along side Obi-Wan.
She was always so smart, so strong willed and compassionate. She was just like his sister and she reminded him of that every day. She reminded him of the brave women his sister was, and how much light she put in his life, and everyone she met. (Y/n) was just like her in every way. Especially in the color blue.
“Where did you get those robes?” He asked curiously as he closed his scroll, setting it aside.
“Oh- I found them in my chest” she smiled looking at him. Probably a gift from Obi-wan, she was used to getting things from him. (Y/n) never had a problem with Obi-wan, but she was definitely not interested in him. He was like a brother to her, but to him she was much more.
Qui-gon nodded and smiled softly “you look lovely in that color...be safe” he said standing up and kissing her head “stay away from boys” he teased her. She only shook her head and looked up at him.
“I don’t think any of the men in this temple will ever be a bother to me, father” she whispered as she tied her hair back into its ribboned braid.
“And they better stay that way, or I’ll have a long talk with the council” he said sternly as he held his hands together.
“What if they are members of the council?” She asked with a smirk, always having to question the things he says just to know the answer, never for real importance.
“Then I’ll speak to master today privately about the matter.” He said looking down at her.
“Whaaaat if it’s Master yoda?” She asked again. Her father only gave her a look before pushing her to the door gently.
“Go on, before someone takes what you’re looking for” he said as she giggled and walked out the door.
“Waaaait, I didn’t get to ask what you are doing today” she said as they now stood in the hall out side their temple apartment. He nodded and sighed.
“Yes that is important...” he said in a tone that made her look at him with worried eyes.
“What’s going on...” she whispered softly as she grabbed his hands.
“The boy we’ve saved, anakin... I believe our discovery of him has raised some attention... master yoda senses a disturbance coming... Obi-wan and I are the ones attending the matter” he informed her quietly so no others heard.
“Why didn’t you tell me I could help you-“ she started but he cut her off.
“You are not yet ready... please just go to the library... I’ll see you tonight for dinner” he smiled at her and kissed her head as she let out a heavy sigh. She knew not to argue with him on Jedi matters, yet she did it often. But something about the way he said it, she knew to leave it alone and go about her way.
(Y/n) was quiet as she made her way down to the library. Keeping her nose in her current books as she went, many people greeted her as she passed. Many whispered as she walked away. Always so quiet, so closed off. Except for the people she trusted, Obi-Wan, her father and now anakin. Even tho anakin was only a child, there was something about him she trusted, something familiar. She could never place it, but she didn’t care to much about it either.
“And what are you reading today?” Obi-wan hummed plucking the book from her hands as she came into the library. She looked up at him and reached for it quickly.
“Obi-wan!” She whined and tried to jump to grab it. He was so much taller then her , it was way to easy for him to hold things from her grasp.
“The fires of Dathomir?” He looked at her curiously. “Now why on earth would you be reading something like that?” He asked flipping three the pages, stopping on a academic drawing of the zabrak male. “And the only image is a naked man” he said handing it back to her.
“It’s to represent common tattoos of the Dathomorian people” she said in a matter-of-fact tone as she walked more into the library. Obi-wan on her heels as she went to put the book away. “Plus, I’m already finish with it, I was just reviewing it.” She said as she used the force to slip it back into its shelf.
“Did you pick that book because you were bored of because of Darth maul?” He asked leaning against the shelves as he looked down at her.
“Darth Maul?” She asked confused, her father knew her well enough to not mention the sith, she always had weird dreams about the sith. So anytime they had sith problems, unless it was necessary, he didn’t inform her.
“He didn’t tell you...” Obi-wan sighed “there was this Zabrak on Tatooine that attacked us, tried to get Padmé and take anakin... goes by Darth Maul” Obi-wan said softly.
“And no one told me till now?” She crossed her arms a little frustrated.
“I thought he would... it seemed necessary, I’m sorry sunflower I didn’t know” Obi-wan said trying to be calm about it, and calm her too.
“Tell me about him...” she said sitting down.
“About Darth Maul?” He asked as they sat down.
“No, about you” she said looking at him, a smirk grew in his face.
“Well-“
“Yes about Darth Maul” she cut him off before he could continue. Obi-wan shook his head and started talking about it and what happened on Tatooine. They sat there for awhile discussing the events before she realized.
“Aren’t you meant to be with my father?” She asked him as she grabbed a book about Zabraks.
“Well yes, but he had a meeting with the council I was told I wasn’t allowed to go to... so I figure I’d talk to you” Obi-wan said looking at the time.
“And how did you know where to find me?” She said flipping three pages.
“Where else would you be?” He answered before she stopped and glanced up at him.
“I go... other places” she started
“Like where?” He hummed lifting her chin.
“The... gardens” she said closing the book abruptly before someone came into the isle they were at.
“Obi-wan... master Qui-gon is looking for you” the younger twi’lek said with a kind smiled. “Good morning Miss Jinn” she hummed to (y/n) before walking away. (Y/n) looked up at Obi-wan and smiled.
“Good luck” she said letting him go before she went into her research.
It seemed like only minutes had passed as she read her books, but as she looked up the light peeking threw the large windows had become a burnt orange. The sun was setting fast over Coruscant, Barely giving her enough time to put her things into her bag before leaving. It wasn’t uncommon for her to forget time while reading. Some days she’s been in there till late at night.
As she made her way threw the temple she started to feel this strange ache in her head. Unlike anything she’d felt before. Longing, that’s what it felt like. Like being lost in a crowd of people, only searching for one person that you just can’t find. And that’s what she was doing, before even noticing it she was running threw the temple to find the source of this feeling.
She started to become warm, the feeling in her chest, her stomach. The anxiety, the force guiding her, she didn’t know what was happing next she just knew she needed to get to it. Wherever it was. Her feet guided her, her brain on hyperdrive before she found herself in the shipping bay. Frozen as she finally found the source of this emotion, her father. Fighting against a sith she had never known. The description only matching that to Darth Maul.
She couldn’t get passed the red chambers fast enough, she couldn’t reach him in time. The piercing heat of the saber went threw her father with in second before the zabrak noticed her. The sob escaping her throat alerting him of her presents as he pulled away from the Jedi master. The red barriers fell and she was quickly at Qui-Gon’s side.
In this moment she didn’t care about the sith, she only wanted to hold her father. “No- no - dad” she whimpered picking up his head and setting it on her lap. “Please look at me” she whimpered as his eyes opened weakly and face turned to a grin.
“I knew you’d find me...” he whispered. “I... I needed to see you.. one last time” she whispered reaching his hand uo to her face. She let out a sob as she leaned into his touch
“It was you- you brought me here...” she whispered as he nodded.
“I needed you to see this... I needed you to be here” he whispered as his touch began to tremble.
“Why...” she grabbed his hand
“Because I love you... I need you to know that...you’re- you’re my daughter and I love you” he whispered as he closed his eyes.
The barriers flashed again as Obi-wan entered the room. Maul was quick to grab (y/n) uo from the floor and hold his scorching blade to her neck.
“Him or her” he growled in such a deep tone it vibrated her back. She could feel his warm skin threw their robes.
“No- no” obi-wan grabbed his masters saber but she stopped him.
“No! Save him!” (Y/n) cried. “Please Obi-wan!” She looked at him as tears streamed down her face. Something about maul felt familiar, and she trusted that enough to put her life on it. “Take him to the infirmary! I’ll be okay! Please!” She cried looking at them. Maul’s grip on her hit tighter as she spoke. A deep chuckle came from his throat and right into her ear.
“So compliant... it’s like you want to be taken” he purred before looking at Obi-Wan “you heard her... take him” he growled again before Obi/ wan picked up his master and looked at (y/n)
“I’ll save you” he said reassuringly.
“Save him first!” She yelled at him before he ran off to help Qui-Gon.
That moment set the markings for the rest of her life with the amber eyes sith. Fear racked threw her body like it owned its every cell. But his warm comforted it like a warm blanket. It made her uneasy, her mind already in a panic as Maul drug her to his ship. She didn’t speak or sob, she just froze.
She didn’t say anything to him as he hauled her up to his ship. Setting her down on the passenger seat and strapping her into it.
“Don’t move” he said sternly as she looked up at him. The only response she could conjure up was a whimper. He just shook his head and started the ship quickly “you’re pathetic...” he mumbled before the ship roared to life and took off. All she could think about was that
She gave her life to a zabrak.
Tag list: @a-dorin @localnightmare13 @botherbother-blog @jayden-rose-leon @randomfangirl7 @syncopated-beet @two-black-leviathans @zamoragoddess
I currently do not have a Darth Maul tag list so if you want to be apart of this series or Darth Maul all together just let me know
#star wars#star wars x reader#darth maul x reader#darth maul#darth maul fluff#darth maul smut#the beauty and the beast
144 notes
·
View notes
Note
This might be a bit weird but-
Imagine whumpee has just been rescued from whumper and they start dressing insanely modestly. They normally didn't do this and wherever they live is naturally very hot so this us really out of character. And one day, whumpee passed out from the heat. Caretaker brings them home and Tries to put them in a bath to help them cool down and they see EVERY scar and EVERY bruise and EVERY marking that whumper left on their skin anf they realize they've been covering up so they don't scare caretaker
Come, now, my dear. We’ve done weirder. Welp, let’s see how this one goes. As usual, I… Made up a setting. Also sorry for the delay. Uh… Enjoy.
Training under the scorching sun of the desert is Caretaker’s least favorite group activity with his team mates. He’s pretty sure the feeling is mutual. It has become easier, of course, with training. That doesn’t mean it’s pleasant.
“Attention!” Calls one of their trainers just as Caretaker tackles their opponent to the ground. They stand up, helping their teammates do so too. They both look at their trainer. A small figure is standing next to them. Caretaker smiles and waves. Whumpee doesn’t see them. “Your teammate has returned from their assignment. Get them back into shape. Welcome them. They did a good job.”
Whumpee gives a shy smile to the trainer, who nods and leaves. Whumpee slowly walks to Caretaker, who takes them into a bear hug.
“Hey! Long time no see!” Whumpee goes rigid in their hug. Caretaker puts them down soon enough. Whumpee does their best to smile.
“Heh. Yeah. The… Uh-- Mission…” They nervously look towards where the trainer disappeared inside, “took longer than intended.”
“Well… Take off that jacket and let’s begin.”
Caretaker starts towards the training ground again and Whumpee follows them, but doesn’t take out the jacket. It’s thin, but it will still give them a hard time. They raise an eyebrow, but Whumpee pretends not to notice as they get into position to fight their teammate.
For the next few days, Caretaker tries to get a hold of Whumpee, but they always seem to be gone the second they come into the room. This is odd, since they’d always been the best of friends. But it’s not the oddest thing, though. Flirty Whumpee, having grown up in a warm place, always excited to show the progress of her workouts, now never wore anything less than their jacket and their pants. Those clothes were meant for training on the cold nights of the desert or even on missions abroad. And yet, no one could get them to take it off.
Three days later, they’re training again when Caretaker hears a soft thump against the training floor. They turn around and open space to get hit in the face by their sparring partner. They stammer back, glaring at their partner, who shrugs and apologizes. When they turn again, they manage to see Whumpee down. Their other teammate is kneeling next to them. Caretaker doesn’t even say anything before running to them.
“What happened?”
“I didn’t do anything.” The teammate says. “They just dropped.”
They are obviously overheated. Sweat runs down their red face.
“Let’s get them out of the sun.” Caretaker suggests, taking one of their arms. The teammate gets the other. They raise Whumpee between them and carry them to a bench under the shade of the building.
“I’ll get back. Get them out of that jacket and they should be fine.” Said the teammate once Whumpee was laying on the bench, waving as they went back to the training grounds.
Caretaker takesk a cup of the cold water they keep around and splashes a bit in Whumpee’s face. Their lips move, thirsty. Carefully, they touch the metal cup to their face, letting them drink. Their eyelids flicker, showing they were closer to conscience.
“You should take that off. You’re going to get sick like this.” They touch the ziper and pull it down. Whumpee’s hand flies to their wrist, but it doesn’t stop them from seeing. The fading yellow color of a bruise. And a new scar.
When Caretaker blinks, they se Whumpee’s eyes open and fixed on theirs.
“Don’t.”
“What was that?”
“Don’t. It’s over.” They sit down, still a bit wobbly. They take more water, but their wrist is shaking so much Caretaker needs to help them steady it.
“What’s over?”
“The mission. The mission is over.” It doesn’t feel like they’re telling Caretaker this. They’re telling themselves.
“Is it?” Caretaker asks, lowering until they’re face to face with Whumpee. Whumpee looked out at the training grounds, one of their hands going to the scar.
“No.” Whumpee said, haunted. “Not for me.”
#whump prompts#whumpfic#whump ask#whump drabble#whump#whump scenario#whumpee#caretaker#it's been so long i don't even remember the tags#as usual my askbox is always open#I just take A LONG TIME to get to it
69 notes
·
View notes
Note
hello! how about #8- “You’re looking a little pale.” and/or #15 “I’m fine… just a little dizzy.” with Obi-Wan and Dooku?
Hi Kate!!! Thanks for the prompt!! // from these prompts // prompts now closed!
I have no idea when Dooku actually left the order, so I made it up for my purposes. Obi-Wan is still a padawan here, but he's like 19-20ish.
Read on Ao3 (or below the cut)
Here ya go!
---
The floor of an unfamiliar starship is not the most pleasant place to wake up.
Admittedly, the cold, hard floor of a starship is not the worst place Obi-Wan has ever woken up, but it certainly isn’t the most ideal place to come back into consciousness on.
He blinks, focusing his vision on his surroundings. The space he is in is barren but sleek. He can tell that the ship he has found himself on is a nice ship.
Groaning, he assesses himself for injuries. Aside from some slight motion sickness from laying on the floor of a ship in flight, Obi-Wan is physically unharmed.
He pushes himself to his feet and carefully inches his way down the short corridor. Peering into the cockpit, he can see the side profile of… no. It can’t be.
“You’re awake,” Dooku says plainly without looking at him.
“Master Dooku?” Obi-Wan questions.
“Actually, it’s ‘Count’ now. I’ve had a bit of a title change.”
Yes, that was right. Dooku left the Order a couple years ago when Obi-Wan was still in his early teens. He doesn’t know much about Dooku’s departure other than that it was due to a difference in ideology. Obi-Wan is not sure what that ideology may be. The other Jedi hardly speak of it. Qui-Gon never does.
“What am I doing here?” Obi-Wan asks cautiously.
“No pleasantries for your Grandmaster?”
“I see no reason for them,” Obi-Wan says, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ve only met you a handful of times. Oh, and you kidnapped me.”
“Fine, we’ll skip the salutations then,” Dooku says. “You’re here for a reason that you will see shortly.”
Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. Of course, he isn’t going to get a straight answer.
“How wonderfully vague, though I suppose you are more forthcoming than most kidnappers.”
“I presume you have experience with them then?”
“It cannot be helped that so many people want me,” Obi-Wan smirks.
“A lot of arrogance for a young man who does not know where he is.”
“Call it a character flaw.”
Obi-Wan looks down at his hands.
“You’re wondering why I have not bound you,” Dooku says.
Obi-Wan shrugs his shoulders. “The thought did cross my mind. As I mentioned, this is not exactly my first time getting kidnapped.”
“Why would I have you bound? You are not my prisoner Obi-Wan.”
“Oh really? I do not remember choosing to be here.”
“You will choose to be here.”
Obi-Wan doesn’t care for the certainty in Dooku’s tone.
“If I’m not your prisoner, why did you take my lightsaber?”
“You’re not my prisoner, but I do not need any hotheaded padawans getting any funny ideas before we get where we need to go.”
“And where may that be?” Obi-Wan tries again.
The Force seems to thrum around them and dread pools in Obi-Wan’s stomach.
“A looking glass, of sorts,” Dooku answers.
Obi-Wan shakes his head. This lineage is so weird.
“Must you be so cryptic all the time?” Obi-Wan asks. “Why not just tell me where we are going?”
“I could tell you, or I could let you see for yourself,” Dooku says. With that, the ship slips out of hyperspace and glides towards a green planet.
“Where are we?” Obi-Wan asks again.
Dooku plucks at levers and pushes at buttons, taking his sweet time in answering Obi-Wan’s question. “This planet does not have a name, though there are several places throughout the galaxy that are like it. Rare as they are, they are places of great import for individuals like us.”
“Individuals like us?”
“Force-sensitives.”
Obi-Wan’s stomach twists uncomfortably at the way Dooku says the words, like their shared abilities somehow make them the same.
They are not the same.
“So why are we here?”
“You are here to see your destiny.” The statement comes out simple and sure.
Oh, Obi-Wan does not have a good feeling about this at all.
***
The ship lands in an unassuming clearing in an unassuming forest on an unassuming planet.
Dooku makes Obi-Wan get off the ship first, much to his annoyance. It would have been very easy to steal the ship if only Dooku had gone first.
“I advise you stay close,” Dooku says, clearly having already thought about Obi-Wan’s would be escape plans. “This forest is not a place you want to be alone in at night without a communicator. I would hate for you to get lost.”
Obi-Wan looks around and gets the sense that Dooku is right. Obi-Wan has his fair share of survival skills learned through a mixture of experience and traditional Temple-based training, but that does not mean he wants to put them to use.
Dooku takes the lead, but even then, Obi-Wan feels as though he is being watched.
The forest is not as unassuming as Obi-Wan initially believed. His bad feeling intensifies with every step he takes — the Force pulsing through his veins tells him to be careful.
It is not long before the bad feeling turns physical. The longer they walk, the worse Obi-Wan begins to feel. It started as a nagging headache blooming in the back of his skull. Now, he fights dark spots that dance behind his eyes.
“You’re looking a little pale,” Dooku says in a way that is both deeply condescending and somehow still somewhat caring.
Obi-Wan takes a few labored breaths and tries to blink back the dark spots from his vision. He rests a palm on a tree trunk and leans against it. “I’m fine… just a little dizzy.”
“Are you sure that’s all it is?”
Obi-Wan whips his head over to Dooku and immediately regrets the fast movement as it sends another wave of nausea through him. “What did you do to me?”
“It is not me. It is your attachment to the light. That is the source of your weakness. Practitioners of the light side don’t do so well in places like this.”
Dooku hands him a canteen and Obi-Wan eyes it warily.
Dooku sighs and rolls his eyes. “Would I have gone to the trouble of taking you all this way just to poison you? Drink.”
Obi-Wan accepts the canteen.
“The light is not my weakness. It is my strength,” Obi-Wan says after a long draught. He hands the canteen back to Dooku.
“Maybe,” Dooku says. “But not here.”
Obi-Wan takes a deep, centering breath and tries to remain calm. Wherever he is, he gets the feeling that he absolutely should not be here. He carries on anyway.
Twigs snap and leaves crunch under his feet until he notices them start to dampen. Solid ground turns soggy the farther they walk. They approach the gaping maw of a cavern, and at its face lies a spring — the source of the mud. Light dances on half of its surface while the other half lingers in the shadow of the cave.
“I presume this is where you are taking me?” Obi-Wan asks, unable to pull his gaze from the spring.
“Very astute,” Dooku says. “Keep going.”
The mud under his feet squelches and sticks, almost as if nature itself protests his movements. Obi-Wan does not want to keep going. Everything inside of him is telling him not to keep going.
Get out of here, Obi-Wan. It’s not safe here, Obi-Wan. It’s dangerous here, Obi-Wan.
The voice in his head telling him to stop almost wins, but his body is weakened by the dark energy that pulses through this place and Dooku is pushing him along. His feet drag and he is brought forth towards the spring.
Dooku kicks the back of his knees and he falls to the ground. His hands sink into the mud.
Now on his knees, Obi-Wan finds himself staring at his own reflection on the surface of the water.
“What is so special about this?” Obi-Wan asks between labored breaths.
“I’ve already told you.”
Obi-Wan looks back at the water and finds himself staring at someone new. No. Not someone new. Himself. Older. But it is undeniably him.
His Padawan brain is gone and a beard covers his face. His brows are set in a harsh look of concern — the same one Qui-Gon makes fun of him for, though there is nothing funny about the scene that begins to play out in front of him now.
A fire. A fury. The Jedi Temple under siege. Scorch marks. The gleam of sabers and the blue bolts of blasters.
Everyone dead or dying.
Everyone except him.
“This is a trick. This can’t be real,” Obi-Wan says, but he cannot tear his eyes away from the water’s reflection.
“Of course it is. Don’t you see?” Dooku implores. “This is your destiny.”
Obi-Wan shivers, the cold of the Dark Side raising gooseflesh across his skin. He can feel his body trying to submit under the pressure of the Dark Side, even as his spirit resists. The pressure builds and his body trembles. He feels as though he is about to pass out and he is sure he would have, were it not for a familiar voice that calls out.
“That’s enough, Dooku,” Qui-Gon says. “Let him go.”
Hope sings in Obi-Wan’s chest.
“Padawan,” Dooku says. “Good of you to join us.”
“Let. Him. Go.” Qui-Gon’s strong voice echoes through the cavern.
“I’m not holding him and he is not my prisoner. He looks into the waters of the Dark Side purely of his own volition.”
Qui-Gon ignites his blade and strides toward Obi-Wan. Dooku ignites his own saber and blocks Qui-Gon’s path.
“Do not interrupt him, Padawan.”
“Do not call me that,” Qui-Gon hisses. “And get out of my way.”
“He needs to finish this on his own.”
“Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon says. “Don’t look at that. There is nothing for you there.”
“Master?” Obi-Wan squeaks out, sounding more like a scared youngling than the young man that he actually is. “I don’t like it here.”
“I know,” Qui-Gon says. “We can leave. Just look away from the water.”
Obi-Wan wants to look away from the water, but its pull is that of a siren call. Irresistible.
“Master Dooku said my destiny is in here.”
“Master Dooku is a liar. Come with me. Please Padawan, just look away from the water and come with me.”
“You are making a mistake, Qui-Gon.”
“The only mistake I made was taking my eyes off of him. I knew you had changed, but kidnapping? You’ve resulted to kidnapping padawans now?”
“Look at him, he is hardly a youngling anymore. You could make him a knight tomorrow if you knew how to let go. But either way, drastic measures have to be taken to show him the path he should follow.”
“This is not his path,” Qui-Gon says. “He will never join you. He will never join the Dark Side.”
“Are you so sure?”
“Yes,” Qui-Gon says firmly. “He’ll never join you. Obi-Wan… he’s… he’s different. He’s good. Even your ichor cannot taint his light.”
“Even the most righteous Jedi are tempted by the dark.”
“Not him. Never him.”
Obi-Wan can feel the strength of Qui-Gon’s convictions, his hope, through their bond. He clings to it like a drowning man clings to a rope and with what remains of his strength, he pulls himself from the dark waters that threaten to consume him.
“Master?” Obi-Wan questions weakly.
“You are making a mistake, Obi-Wan,” Dooku says. “Only pain and misery await you if you stay on your current path. You saw it yourself and you shall see it again.”
“The future is in motion,” he says shakily. “Nothing is set in stone.”
“Don’t be naive, Obi-Wan. Remain on your path, and the future you saw remains inevitable.”
Obi-Wan swallows back the lump in his throat. “Regardless, there is no future where I follow you.”
Obi-Wan staggers forward. His fingers grasp for his lightsaber, but he knows he is in no condition to take on Dooku. To his relief and to his surprise, Dooku does not reach for his own saber. He stands to the side and lets Obi-Wan climb back up the hill. He does not look angry, only disappointed. There is not much time for Obi-Wan to ponder this before Dooku shakes his head and turns back, walking out the way they came in.
Qui-Gon watches Dooku leave, never taking his piercing gaze off of his former master until he has blended fully into the shadows. With his disappearance, Qui-Gon darts down the hill towards Obi-Wan. Rocks and loose dirt rolls down the hill with each of Qui-Gon’s heavy steps, but it does not slow him down.
The sight of his Master and the security of knowing he was coming to save him makes some of the fight die down inside of him. He trips over his own feet and falls forward on the slippery hill. Mud and dying leaves stick to his robes and his skin while the smell of decay that accompanies a forest floor fills his nostrils.
He just wants to get out of here.
Though it seems he will not have to wait much longer. Strong hands grab his arms and drag him to his feet. Qui-Gon dusts off his shoulders while giving him a once-over.
“Did he hurt you?”
“Not… not really.”
“That was a yes or no question, Obi-Wan.”
“No,” Obi-Wan says, trying to put more strength behind his words. “He cannot hurt me.”
“Actually, he can, but I’m glad he did not.”
Obi-Wan offers Qui-Gon a weakened smile.
“Come on, let’s get you home,” Qui-Gon says, lending Obi-Wan a steadying arm.
Obi-Wan leans on his Master and lets him guide him home.
36 notes
·
View notes
Text
towards an unseen day
Day 03 of @bobadinweek prompt: Caretaking
Warnings: None
Laughter echoed down the small side tunnel, deep and rumbling through the earth like an aftershock, and Din paused, letting the sound wash over him.
His hand — still pressed to the wall — brushed over the symbol carved there, the chill of the stone settling into his bones as his bare skin traced the lines he couldn’t read but understood all the same.
There had been a strange look in Boba’s eyes when he took Din’s hand — pausing first, his gaze flickering upwards in a silent question — to place it against the symbol when he first carved it into the rock wall. He had mentioned the Kaminoans, and their fluorescent ink that the clones had quickly learned to hack into their HUD display, with a note of mournful laughter in his voice, but hadn’t said what the symbols meant. His free hand had curled through battle-signs as he spoke, so Din could guess well enough: home, safety, return.
An ache had settled into Din’s bones, and every step closer to home lightened his burden, but still he waited, his head tipped to one side as he listened. There was a second current of laughter, tumbling after the first like a shadow, high and uncoordinated. His steps were faster now, warmth flooding through his chest and he input the code as quickly as his trembling fingers would let him.
Light filled the small room, heralded in a thousand shimmering fragments from the mirrors suspended above, reflecting the scrap of sunlight that fell through the barred window. Lining one indented wall was an array of packaged ingredients but the order was disrupted by clear gaps like missing teeth in the neat rows. Across the opposite wall hung a tapestry, currents of scarlet and bronze dancing through a background of dark blue, the careful images of the constellations above Tatooine picked out amongst a stylised set of Mandalorian armour, but the figures in front captured Din’s attention utterly as he pulled his helmet off, clipping it onto his belt.
Boba was without his armour, dressed in instead in a loose linen shirt that clung to the broad curve of his shoulders and fell past his hips to his thighs, and dark trousers. The birikad across his chest had been modified with the dark green fabric tied around the ring on Boba’s shoulder to allow Grogu to watch the world around him.
The child’s hands were stretched towards the fruit laid out on the counter in front of him, already stained with the dark berry juice, and, as Din watched, a sliver rose into the air. It hung for a moment, commanded by a power Din could barely wonder at, before Boba plucked the fruit, his hands stained with purple smudges and threw it into his mouth.
“Patoo!” Grogu demanded, his ears twitching, but his darkening mood passed in an instant as Boba ducked his head to smooth a kiss over his forehead, tapping the curve of one ear carefully.
“Later, kid. Save some for your buir.”
Boba tipped his head, his grin broadening as he caught Din’s gaze, and picked the knife back up. Grogu babbled, waving a hand towards one of the bowls before twisting to peer up at Boba.
“Yeah, that’s the next one. Good job.”
Din’s chest felt too full, too warm, barely able to breathe for fear of disrupting the scene in front of him. He had never imagined that he would have a life close to this. The closest he got to imagining his future was a shapeless plan to provide as best as he could for the foundlings and his covert. His usual grace had abandoned him as he stumbled forward, resting his hand on the table as the expected aches and pains made themselves known, radiating down his spine and legs.
Grogu turned with a shriek of delight, his eyes bright and reached from the pouch, almost over balancing to try and reach Din sooner. He caught the child, scooping him up to press their foreheads together. The scent of tart berries clung to him, mixing with the comforting warmth of blue milk and the herbs that were mixed into the laundry to keep them fresh.
“Missed you, womp rat.”
This close to Boba, he could sense rather than see the grin that spilled across his face, but Din moved up to kiss him before it could reach fruition. The scars on Boba’s lips, ridged against Din’s oversensitive skin made a shiver roll down his spine, the action mirrored as his beard scratched against Boba’s cheeks. Din broke away, shifting to press his forehead to Boba’s, Grogu cooing in the crook of his arm in satisfaction. The slight pressure of the Force against the back of his head made Din pause, but Boba was already moving to blindly tap his finger against Grogu’s cheek in gentle admonishment.
“We’ve got the memo, kid. Don’t need any outside help here.”
Din chuckled, reflexively trying to stifle the noise at Grogu’s disgruntled whine, and gently rocked all three of them, his free hand slipping to rest on Boba’s waist. The shape of a modified blaster, carefully hidden beneath the loose fabric made him pause, his laughter breaking free once again.
“Could hear you coming down the tunnels. But can’t get complacent.” Boba’s words were grave and tinged with bitterness, and Din nodded, careful to not break their connection.
This small room attached to both of their chambers and Grogu’s room had become a sanctuary of sorts. The shelves held ingredients suitable for long term storage in case they needed to shelter, and next to the door lay the familiar shapes of their grab bags. Grogu’s had been a new addition — a small brown knapsack, contrived to have as many pockets as possible — and Din knew some of them were already filled with the snacks he enjoyed, and that the kitchen staff kept slipping to him when Din and Boba pretended not to notice.
“How was the job?” Boba stepped away with one final gentle kiss, squeezing Din’s hand around his waist before he picked up the knife again. He picked up the bowl Grogu had indicated earlier and removed one of the yellow fruit from within. It’s skin was tough and ridged, and Boba anchored it on the board before working on piercing the knife through it.
“Well as could be expected at first. The traps and countermeasures he had set up against the Imperials were well-made, and just as effective against me.”
Din felt Boba’s worry rumble through him as if he was back on the ship, the rthymic sticky sound of the knife blade pausing as he looked him over. Grogu babbled, patting his chest plate, his brow furrowed in concentration. “I managed. That’s why you pay me well.”
Boba scoffed, and Din knew that his plans for the evening had just changed. The palace boasted an impressive set of heated baths in its depths, and Din had been looking forward to sinking into them. Boba wouldn’t rest until he catalogued every new wound and every purpling bruise.
Din let his thoughts wander for a moment, lingering on the warm steam that seemed to stick to the skin and the press of Boba’s hands — the callouses so like his own, rough but a sign of skill and training that made his head swim — against the ache that had settled in the curve of his shoulders and the fresh wound wrapped around his thigh. His gaze drifted to Boba’s, taking in the knowing grin on his face.
“Later,” he promised, an eyebrow raised as he inclined his chin towards Grogu curled into Din’s arms.
Din’s answering blush was immediate, feeling as if he had scorched his skin with his flamethrower, the heat spreading down his neck and across his chest. “He took some convincing but the information you gave me is still good.”
⁂
The blaster shot cracked against the wall just above Din’s head, the heat leaving a burning line across the edge of his beskar. He bit back a curse even as a grin, wide and unrestrained, slipped across his face.
His approach to the small encampment had been slow, a careful waltz around the concealed jagged traps that lined the walls of the ravine — all carefully at head-height for the average human and designed to be deadly. Their make was familiar, the twisted knots at the top arranged in a pattern that almost looked like a hand gesture. Boba tied knots for his snares the exact same way.
The intelligence he had managed to gather independently of Boba’s thriving informant network hadn’t proven to be of much use. A sea of closed mouths and gazes that turned away the moment they could, as impenetrable as any wall, greeted him at the small bar next to the single spaceport. The man had clearly managed to win their loyalty, something that seemed to be a reoccurring thread with these missions.
He was skilled with a blaster, proving it with another shot, curved through a modified barrel to try and draw Din out of hiding. Din went with the motion, catching the shot on his vambrace and directing it harmlessly into the dirt, and he ran towards the next outcrop, hearing the clicks and whirs of the blaster reloading echoe clearly.
“Kark off, Imp!” The man’s shout was clear, rage clear through every word, and Din watched the flicker of the shadow move, elongated through the setting sun. “I’m not joining your karking plot so you can shove it up your arse!”
“Boba Fett sent me!” Din called. A bubble of laughter settled in his chest, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth, but he pushed it down. There would be time later.
Siblings, wherever they were found, held a note of similarity between them, and Boba and his many brothers were no different to Din and his covert.
The face that appeared in the small gap of the overhanging rock, barely visible theough Din’s visor, was similar enough to Boba that he could chart the similarities: the same unhinged grin, the same dark eyes and the same way of assessing the situation, his gaze focused like a sniper’s guide. But the clone had a shock of dark curls shot through with grey, grown wild after being cut back for so long and hanging at uneven lengths, and faint tattoos around his eyes, pale lines tracing around two large ovals like a Togruta’s markings.
“Boba? My ori’vod’ika sent you?” His voice in sharp contrast to the ringing shout before was quiet and pensive before his jaw closed with a snap and the rifle was drawn to his shoulder once more. “Talk faster.”
“Remember Docking Bay Seven!” Silence greeted Din’s call, as it had everytime before. Boba had shared many parts of his childhood on Kamino with Din from the small quarters he shared with his father to some of the training missions he undertook with the other clones but there was a wealth of adventures and occurrences that he couldn’t speak of.
Din understood. He couldn’t put into words the time he spent with Paz, the hours of meaningless conversations or the spark that had bloomed between them on their first meeting, tipping his face back to stare into the half-finished tattoos that ran over the other boys face like lightning strikes. But that phrase… it meant something precious to the clones Din had managed to retrieve from their bolt holes.
The clone above him laughed, wild and unrestrained. “Bob’ika has done well for himself then! Word of advice, your armour reflects sunlight like a signal flare. I saw you coming yesterday.”
“But you didn’t run.”
The man swung himself down, the muscles in his arms flexing in a deliberate display of power and control. When he stepped closer, it was a swagger, confident and sure of himself. “I am still a soldier, not matter what happened. I don’t run from a fight.”
“None of the information mentioned a name or a signifier,” Din began, and the man’s eyes widened for a moment, old surprise still fresh and burning. “What would you like to be called?”
“You retrieve many clones for our Boba?” The man’s gaze slipped over him, lingering on the mud horn on his pauldron and taking in the careful free space waiting for Boba’s mark. His grin was worn with melancholy, and his hand moved to touch the fanged necklace corded around his throat before brushing against the dotted lines tattooed across his cheek as it circled his eyes.
“Enough. There’s a compound on Tatooine many of them stay at. Some travel.”
“Tatooine?” Laughter rumbled through him, a burst of humour several of the other clones had displayed and Din couldn’t begin to wonder at. “Of course it is.
“Call me Alpha-17. That’s the name I chose for myself before all this.”
⁂
Boba hummed as Din finished recounting his mission, pausing to tap the blade along the board, now slick with a pale green juice.
“Alpha-17 helped train the younger clones after the trainers focused their attentions more on the speciality tracks. The Alpha class was one of the few that my buir hand-trained.”
Boba reached over, a piece of dripping fruit cradled in his palm, and Grogu plucked it carefully, his claws piercing slightly into the exposed flesh. The juice ran over his arms, glistening trails darkening the fabric of his robe, but Din’s attention was captured by Boba. He had raised his palm to his mouth, pale liquid spilling down his chin, and heat bloomed in Din’s belly, immediate and severe.
What he had left out of his recounting was the question he placed to Alpha-17 as they travelled. Food had been important to the covert, and learning a new recipe and perfecting it was considered the first true step towards a formal proposal.
The man had laughed, immediately plucking Din’s intentions from his careful questions, and answered as honestly as he could remember. Jango’s food was sacred to Boba, each remembered meal a sacrifice and a prayer, the kitchen made holy by his devoted attention, so Din worked at reconstruction, following the thread as devoutly as he would a bounty.
Boba paused, stretching out to draw Din down to kiss him once more, his mouth sweet and sticky, and Din marvelled at the life they had made and the possibility of what came next, each carving out a place for the other to shelter.
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐞 | 𝐩.𝐬𝐡
𝐖𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐮 - 𝟐
✕𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Grim Reaper!Seonghwa x Living!Reader
✕𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Grim Reaper, Halloween Au
✕𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.4k+
✕𝐏𝐥𝐨𝐭: There’s nothing after death, or so they say. However, Seonghwa knows best and he’s determined to make you find out.
Alternatively: “Married couples always promise to love each other till death, but darling, I’ll show you love exists after death as well.”
✕𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Mentions of death, souls, grave yards, cemetaries, harassement/bullying and the afterlife. Seonghwa is holding a scythe to reap souls. There is some religious stuff as well. The people around you are really weird. You’re a living, breathing human at the beginning but not really at the end. The reader (you) are really weird. Some kissy kissy as well
✕𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: Unedited
✕𝐀/𝐍: Remember that this is fiction and that I don’t actually see ateez in this way. The religious stuff has not been put in to offend anyone. It is solely for fictional purposes. Enjoy! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist. Leave a comment under this post or message me! Also, this is inspired by OneUs’ song ‘To Be or Not To Be’. I am obsessed with their entire ‘Lived’ album...it’s a bit of a problem hehe
✕𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @pancakes-for-teddy
✕𝐀𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜: Here
Seonghwa watched you trace the crude grey stone with your fingers in a sense of curiosity.
You were a young child, new to the world but there was something extremely odd about you. Seonghwa had seen you a few times already, running around the cemetery as if it was the playground, playing hide and seek with the ravens that would sometimes whisper beautifully morbid things to you.
Tracing the sharp blade of his scythe, the male sighed and lowered his black hood when a series of footsteps crunched through the dead grass of the burial grounds.
"A mere lost soul," Seonghwa said as the groundskeeper of the cemetery came to a standstill next to him.
"A bit young to be a lost," he said but Seonghwa shook his head and ran his bony fingers over the staff of his scythe.
"Young souls are often the easiest to lose. But they are also the easiest to guide," he said and gave the groundskeeper a side-eyed glance.
"Are you going to guide her?" The groundskeeper asked in a quiet voice and Seonghwa inhaled deeply before covering his face with his hood again and disappearing into the shadows.
"Only if I must."
The next place Seonghwa saw you was at the foot of your grandmother's bed a few years later, crying hysterically.
Black ink flowed down your cheeks, leaving scorching burns in their wake but to any normal human, it would look like the most heart-broken tears were being shed.
Next to Seonghwa, your grandmother pressed a hand to her heart. Although pain was not felt by deceased souls, the phantom pains of her only grandchild's cries were enough to provoke a physical feeling.
Both your grandmother and Seonghwa stayed, observing everything until it was only you left in the room.
Seonghwa approached you and wiped the inky streaks off your face with a gentle bony finger.
"Do not cry, child," he said and offered you a single black raven feather, smooth as the blade of his scythe.
"Angel," the word left your small lips as you marvelled at the man in front of you. A graceful being in front of a clumsy child like you, your brain could only muster the closest celestial being.
"No, child. But you can most definitely think of me as your guardian angel."
And with that, Seonghwa left you with an eternal promise and the mark of the grim reaper on your soul.
"So much for a guardian angel," you said as you twirled the black feather between your fingers. Now in your early adult ages, the feather had remained the only constant in your life.
Encased between thin glass sheets, the black feather gleamed under the sunlight as you leaned against one of the headstones in the cemetery.
"(Yn)? Here again?" The groundskeeper asked as he strolled by with his tools, his black cat in tow.
"Yes sir," you smiled and closed your eyes, letting your head fall onto the grey stone that was basking in the sunlight.
"I was going to wash the stones today but it seems I'll have to wait," he said and you smiled at the older man.
"Thank you, sir. You know I don't have anyone else but you."
The groundskeeper gave you a small wave before continuing on his way.
Sighing and tucking the black feather back into your pocket, you plucked at the yellow grass that always seemed to surround you wherever you went.
It was true that the groundskeeper was the only one you had. After the encounter with your "guardian angel", things had gone immensely wrong for you.
You started having nightmares and hearing voices that always called for help. The murmurs and cried pains of the damned that always seemed to haunt you on the darkest of nights. This eventually led to your family declaring you sick and moving away to a bigger city, leaving you behind.
You were harassed horribly during school which made you drop out and just stay inside your old house until midnight hit the skies. The old ladies of the town would gossip about your creepy aura and flash you with crosses and holy water while you would walk down the street.
Sometimes, just to mess with them you would hiss and try to cover yourself from the holy objects and inwardly laugh as the women scurried away to protect their children and husbands. On other days you would hide under the black hood of your jacket and ignore all the comments about being a disgrace to God and whatnot.
To say that your town was an orthodox one was an understatement.
But today was one of those rare nights where the voices didn't seem to bother you as much. The people of the town had been ignorant towards you and it was a blessing through and through. Lying in your deceased grandmother's room, you stared at the arcane carvings in her ceiling. Your grandmother always believed in the afterlife and that death was not as bad as people put it to be. It was always just a change of worlds but never a permanent one.
Your hand reached out to trace one of the gold lines in the air. You had spent your entire childhood memorising them as your grandmother would tell you stories of the world beyond but now, they seemed foreign to you, almost dead and lifeless.
"I remember seeing you here when you were only a little child," a smooth voice flittered across the cold room as you jerked awake and stood up to find the source of the voice.
"Even as a child, you were always so mysterious. I never expected you would grow up to be so beautiful," the voice sounded again and Seonghwa emerged from the shadows, bony fingers clutching his scythe.
He leaned down to your level and traced your jawline. His finger was chillingly cold and wasn't soft as skin would normally feel.
Silence blanketed the room as you shrank under his cold stare.
"Am I finally going to die?"
Admittedly, the question was stupid but voicing it lifted some weight off your chest.
"Why would you die?" Seonghwa quipped an eyebrow at you, a slow smirk making its way onto his face.
"You look like a grim reaper," you whispered and fidgeted under the tall male's gaze.
Seonghwa laughed, it was chilling in its nature and froze your bones.
"That's because I am."
Regardless of his cold stare and voice, his tone was nonchalant and careless, as if admitting to being the grim reaper wasn't the biggest thing in the world.
"Oh..." you trailed off, not quite sure how to react to that piece of information.
"What do you want with me?"
"That's..." Seonghwa sighed and leaned against his scythe with a bored expression.
"A good question," he said and furrowed his eyebrows.
"If you don't have any specific requests then please leave," you said and trudged to the bedroom door, opening it wide and letting the cold wind whistle through the room.
"Actually, I wanted to take you with me," Seonghwa said and leaned his fingers out to touch your hair. He twisted them around his fingers and smiled. It was a sweet smile, one filled with love and adoration, something you had not experienced from any human before.
But lucky for you, Seonghwa was not human.
"Take me where?" You asked and brought your hand up to curl your fingers around his wrist. His skin was strikingly pale against yours and while Seonghwa could feel the low thrum of your pulse, you couldn't feel a thing.
"To the spirit world of course," he said and booped your nose lightly in a childish manner.
For a grim reaper, he sure was soft with his movements.
"What if I don't want to go," you whispered and dropped your hand from around his wrist. Seonghwa's unbeating heart dropped a little at the lack of physical contact as he too uncurled your hair from around his fingers and then caressed your head gently.
"I suppose that's fair," he said but one look at your face and he knew you were just being cautious of stranger danger.
"Listen," he started and leaned down, dangerously close to your lips.
"Wha-what are you doing?" You asked and leaned your face away from his.
"Just let me show you," he said and leaned closer to you.
Hesitantly, you met his face halfway and pressed your lips to his.
If only your family could see you now, they would bury you ten feet underground.
His bony fingers let go of his scythe which vanished into thin air as he pulled your waist closer to his.
His lips were cold and yours felt numb to his touch. It was an insensitive feeling but as Seonghwa exhaled into your mouth, you felt a wisp of odd smoke travel past your lips.
It looked like unfurling ink in water as the wisps passed from his mouth to yours.
Stilling in his arms, your vision blurred and Seonghwa's face pixelated before it dissolved into the same black wisps of smoke and you found yourself as a child sitting in the living room with your family.
"I'm afraid (Y/n)'s brain is not developing properly," A voice rang in your ears as you watched little you play with blocks and your parents conversing with a man in a white coat.
"Oh, nonsense. (Y/n) is doing just fine," your grandmother butt in and ushered the man outside, your parents giving her a glare.
A smile made its way onto your lips as you watched the scene in front of you. Your grandmother always did have her way with you in the best ways possible.
"Mother, you don't understand. (Y/n)'s not normal," you heard your father coax but your grandmother just shushed him and handed you a cookie, which you gladly accepted before going back to play with your blocks.
You reached your hands out to touch your grandmother's delicate face but your vision distorted again and merged into you sitting at the cemetery while you were younger.
From the corner of your eyes, you saw a figure talking to the groundskeeper while looking at you. The figure was clad in a long black cloak and you only caught a glimpse of his glimmering scythe before he disappeared into the shadows.
The ink once again unfurled and revealed to you getting harassed in school. The girls pulling your hair as you walked past them in the corridor while calling you names and the boys tearing your books apart and beating you up in the school's basement.
You cried watching everything unwind. These were the memories you had kept suppressed for so long but seeing them again had just opened up unnecessary scars in your heart.
"(Y/n)," a bony hand reached out for you and brought you back to reality as Seonghwa's fingers wiped at the tears that were streaming down your face.
"Wh-wha-what was that?" You asked and touched your face, fingers pulling away to reveal obsidian ink staining your fingers.
"Why...what...why are my tears black?"
"What have you done?" You demanded with a bite in your voice this time.
Seonghwa sighed and brushed your hair out of your brush before wrapping you in a blanket.
"I simply showed you everything you've been through in the mortal world."
His words rang in your ear with high pitched noise, like a shrill cacophonic note being hit on the violin again and again.
"(Y/n)," Seonghwa said and leaned down to your level again.
"It doesn't have to be like this. How can you keep living in this pain?"
"Who said I've been living in pain?" You retorted and pushed your pointer finger into his chest that was covered with black robes.
"My darling, I've been observing you for so long and the pain you feel could bring some of the most tortured souls to their knees."
You gulped, the air not quite flowing down your throat properly. Your body felt constricted as if it was trapped in the physical peel you call your body.
"Let me show you," Seonghwa whispered and snapped his fingers.
The air around you changed and it was no longer cold. it was no longer filled with hate and bitterness but instead, there was a warmth. A warmth that seeped into your bones almost as if it was a mother's hug. Your mother had never hugged you like this, it brought tears into your eyes. As if it had encased you in its warm arms, refusing to let go.
Your core, the very centre of your being felt whole again and every little touch was like a loving caress instead of sharp recoil.
But the moment was a fleeting one. Gone almost as soon as you had touched it, crumbled to dust right in front of your very eyes.
"What was that?" Your voice was soft and deep down, your held hope. You wanted that feeling to be your home forever. Somewhere you could finally be everything you've ever wanted to be. If Seonghwa was the key to that, you were willing to take that chance.
"Just a mere glimpse of what your life could be with me. Imagine everything I could give you, how free would you be," he said and you found yourself wondering exactly that.
What could Seonghwa give you, what could he offer and how free would you feel?
Freer that anything you ever felt on Earth, that was for sure.
"What do you say, my darling?" Seonghwa had his bony hand stretched towards your face. He gently caressed your cheek with one finger and you realised how menial everything was in compared to this. It was yours for the taking, everything he could ever offer was written in the hand of his ivory white hand and all you have to do was feed from it.
"Is it better to be alive or not to be? The question is yours," he said and you watched as the scythe was back in his hand.
"Where are you going?" You said and stood up from where you were previously sitting.
"Well, my darling, there's only one grim reaper and millions of souls to guide," he said and approached you closely.
"When you need me, call me by my name and I'll be there, always in the shadows but I'll be there."
"What am I supposed to call? Reaper?" You scoffed and turned away from him. How could you give someone the disease only to give them the cure as well?
"Call me Seonghwa," he said and disappeared with a cold whistle, as sharp as the blade he always carried.
Your every day after that was filled with constant itching to escape. The voices never left you alone and would only get amplified in Seonghwa's absence.
On the rare nights he did visit you, you would sit around the tombstones in the cemetery. He would tell you stories of all the souls he has guided into the spirit world and sometimes, the names he would tell you about would be in the very cemetery you two would spend time in.
The ravens would always squawk at your presence but you knew exactly how much they appreciated your company during the deadly hour.
You had come to know Seonghwa a great deal. His entire being was now an open book to you and every detail was like a word etched onto his pale skin that was the page. He would often shower you with ghostly kisses and you always found yourself wanting more.
"Just concentrate," his voice sounded behind you as you closed your eyes and narrowed all your energy onto the spirits he was talking about.
"You're special. Made for this, made for me. You can do it," he said and coaxed you further with a loving nudge.
"Seonghwa...I can't-" and the words got stuck in your throat as a wisp stroked your side and curled around your wrist.
"What...Seonghwa...what?" You stuttered and looked helplessly at the reaper.
"Just relax," he said cooly and you snorted at his comment.
"Yeah...relax," you said and shook your arm, trying to get the wisp off you.
"It's a soul, (Y/n). A lost one, just like yours," he said and stretched his hand, attracting the wisp towards it. You watched stoically as the white smoke uncurled and floated towards Seonghwa who sent it towards the sky in a hushed whisper.
"It's gone," he said and you nodded before sinking to the yellow grass under you.
"Seonghwa-" you started but when you looked up, he was gone with only the moon glimmering as bright as his blade looking down at you.
It was a horrible feeling to admit that you had gotten shamefully attached to Seonghwa. You found yourself thinking about him even when you were lying in bed, begging for sleep to take you without any nightmares.
Sitting up in your bed, the covers bunched around your midriff, you silently called his name.
"Seonghwa."
It was an almost non-existent whisper. Something that couldn't even be heard to your own ears but you had felt your lips move which was why you were sure of the letters tumbling from your lips.
"My darling, you finally learned how to use my name," his voice sounded and you jumped in your skin at the amount of soft malice in his voice. You wanted to bask in it.
"I want it," you voiced and he lowered his hood while quipping his eyebrow at you.
"What do you want?"
You inhaled deeply and leaned into Seonghwa.
"I want to be with you?"
Seonghwa laughed a musical laugh that was still cold in nature, the icicles pressing into your body.
"You've chosen not to be," he said and nodded moving even closer to you, almost pressing your body into his.
"Not to be what?" You asked and Seonghwa smirked the most deadly smirk you had ever seen adorn his sharp features.
"Not to be alive."
His final words made him press his lips to yours. This time, it was a liberating feeling as the black wisps climbed your body, tangling around your limbs and then finally your throat.
It was strangling all the life out of you but as Seonghwa petted and soothe your hair, you felt yourself feeling a tad bit better.
You lost yourself with one last word hanging from your lips, "Seonghwa."
The air was colder when you awoke. Two feet on the ground but they weren't yours.
Gasping, you stumbled backwards as you saw your dead body lying limp on the floor.
"They'll call it a miracle," Seonghwa said and kissed your hand that had turned a pale white to resemble his. There was no pulse this time and the place that held your beating heart was glaringly silent.
"How did you...what did you-" Seonghwa stopped you with a careless wave of his scythe.
"You don't have to know," he said as you both made your way to the cemetery.
"(Y/n)," the groundskeeper said and gave you a slight mocking bow.
"It's great to see you," he said and you laughed a hearty laugh, one that liberated your entire soul.
"I'm going to miss you, sir," you said but the groundskeeper shook his head with a slight chuckle.
"Nonsense, child. As long as you're with the reaper, you'll always see me."
Seonghwa grabbed your hand and led you into the shade.
"Are you ready?" He asked and you nodded enthusiastically.
Sharing one last kiss, you stepped into the shadows, disappearing forever.
"They got my birthday wrong," you complained to Seonghwa who just laughed and traced the headstone with his hand.
"Do you really care?" He asked and you whined a little before laughing.
"Not really...but they make me look older than I actually am!"
"It's alright, my darling. They never cared anyways."
And that was something you could agree on. They never did care. All they did was bury you ten feet under the ground and mutter false prayers of love before dispersing back to their lives that didn't contain a sick, now dead child.
When you were in high school, you had read Shakespeare's play, Hamlet. It was there you had learned the phrase 'To be or not to be, that is the question'.
It truly was the question, your question. But your grandmother always told you, death was never permanent, only a change of worlds so your answer to the question would always be ‘not to be’.
Not to be alive but to be by Seonghwa's side.
#ateez imagines#imagines ateez#ateez oneshot#ateez fanfic#ateez au#ateez#ateez seonghwa#seonghwa#seonghwa ateez#ateez park seonghwa#park seonghwa#park seonghwa ateez#ateez halloween#midnight seonghwa#grim reaper!seonghwa#seooghwa halloween#Kpop au#fluff#angst#seonghwa au#seonghwa fluff#seonghwa angst#ateez fluff#ateez angst#ateez imagine#ateez x reader#seonghwa x reader
179 notes
·
View notes
Note
IF you are still taking prompts...would you consider something precanon with Jon and Tim? tim's been trying to befriend an isolated/lonely researcher jon that no one's a fan of, sees him sick or being bothered by someone or any one of our usual terrible scenarios and is immediately like 'is anyone gonna take care of this man??'
https://archiveofourown.org/works/27650999
Tim flipped his pen around in his fingers, internally cheering when he executed the trick shot over his thumb, and kept an eye on Research’s newest recruit. The tiny man, stuffy and pompous and peculiar, had only been with them a little over a week and from day one Tim marked him as a challenge.
He would become this angry and diminutive fellow’s best friend, so help them both.
Currently, one Jonathan Sims was balanced on the tips of his patent leather brogues, stretching up for a volume he could never hope to reach and Tim, seeing his moment of opportunity, allowed his shadow to fall over him as he easily retrieved it for him.
“Tim. Tim Stoker.” He gave over the book along with a beaming grin and an introduction, holding a hand out for him to shake and lifting a brow when all Jon did was glare skeptically at his open palm, arms tightening around his prize.
“Sims.” Imperiously, with the slightest lift of his chin. “Jon. Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Stoker.” If Tim had been quicker on the uptake, he would have replied with the customary that was my father, but as it was he found himself faced with the stiff line of his back as he walked swiftly deeper into the stacks.
He was awkward and prickly, for sure, there was no getting around that, but knowledgeable and worked hard at his job, harder than Tim currently was anyway with this quest to focus on. Jon kept his head down, literally, at his desk he was nigh folded in half for most of the shift, not even stopping for lunch most of the time unless something broke his hyperfocus and he caught sight of the clock. No wonder he was so scrawny, just skin and bone beneath his crisp starched shirts and prim jumpers. So Tim began leaving snacks behind; a piece of fruit, bottle of water, cereal bar, a bit of chocolate, and it gave him no end of amusement each and every time Jon noticed. Feet up on his own desk, Tim would watch Jon glance around, ignoring the irritated looks of their coworkers while he tried to puzzle out who kept doing it and the first time he actually took a bite tasted of sweet, sweet victory.
Time passed, Tim finally convinced Jon to call him by his first name and was soundly told off for attempting to call him Jonny. He learned of his preference for tea over coffee, that he was raised by his grandmother, and feared spiders absolutely, having been the unfortunate recipient of a harmless office prank. It was no secret that Jon was not well liked and didn’t seem to care. He became the butt of many a joke and impersonation. That posh accent, put on or not, was too good to pass up and his lack of social acumen didn’t help his case even though he was smart as a whip and picked up any slack by virtue of staying late.
“Bags under your eyes are looking heavy today.”
“Hm? Oh, Tim.” Jon rubbed a knuckle under the rim of his glasses. “Yes, I. I haven’t been sleeping well.” He dropped into his chair heavily, pressing fingertips against his temples and massaging them.
“Take a sick day. You’ve put in enough over time.” Jon craned his neck, blinked up at him with a confused look, as though he were trying to figure out a difficult puzzle.
“M’alright.” Mumbling, the wood grain suddenly seemed very interesting. “You should get to work though.”
“Whoa! Not my boss there yet, Jonny-boy!” It elicited a familiar, nettlesome response and put Tim’s heart at ease. Jon probably was just tired.
“Oi, you daft twit, watch where you’re going.” Tim turned the corner on his return from lunch to find Jon scrambling amongst a sprawl of papers, frantically trying to collect them up.
“S’sorry, I’ll help--”
“Done enough, sod off.” Jon froze, muttered another apology and handed off the pages he’d gathered together.
“You alright?” Sidling up to him, Tim did him the favor of ignoring the trembling line of Jon’s mouth. “Guy’s just being a prick ‘cause his wife’s leavin’ him.”
“Fine, m’fine, Tim.” And in a moment he was, back at his desk and pointedly thumbing through a file and pretending to cross check his notes.
The next morning was no better and Jon arrived under the wire, hair unkempt and tie just slightly crooked. Very unlike him and this time he watched as Jon let his head tip forward for a few seconds, bracing himself on the arms of his chair before retreating into the forest of bookshelves. If left to his own devices, Tim was sure he’d end up ticking the librarians off again. He tended to leave a mess in his wake when searching for what he needed and when he didn’t reappear by noon, Tim went off in search of him, expecting to find him leafing through some manuscript or another and instead discovering him cross legged in the shadows, eyes closed, head tipped back and resting on a shelf. There was a short stack of books pertaining to his research by his knee but his hands were empty and still in his lap.
“What’s wrong?” Jon made a vague gesture. “Headache?”
“Mm. Didn’t mean to, to...uh.”
“End up on the floor?”
“Mm.
“You should go home.” The very suggestion drew his features into a frown and he cracked open dark lashes just enough for Tim to catch a glimpse of glassy brown.
“I’ve barely worked here a month, I. I can’t. I can’t skive off.”
“You’re ill, Jon. That’s not--Look, look.” Tim crouched beside him. “It’s okay to call off sick.” It had the opposite effect, and Tim had to steady Jon after he struggled to his feet with his armful of books. “Jon.”
“No, no. I’ll be over whatever this is by tomorrow.”
Tim sighed. Jon was, in fact, not over whatever he’d come down with, and was now stifling a series of wet, breathless coughs in the crook of his elbow, unaware of the dirty looks the other researchers were throwing his way. The harder Tim tried to make him see reason, the harder Jon resisted, insisting that he was fine, it was allergies or something else but he wasn’t feeling ill enough to miss work.
“I’m holding you up as we speak.” Sluggish, Jon’s eyes tracked Tim’s arm from where it was attached to his shoulder all the way down to the firm grip he had on his bicep to keep him from listing even further.
“Jus’...bit dizzy…”
“Yeah, that’s not a good thing.”
“I can, I can still do my job.” And Tim wasn’t quite sure who he was trying to convince. “I can.” Tim allowed him his arm back, not commenting on his barely controlled fall into his desk chair or the soft groan of pain that ended in another fit, weaker than the last.
“I know you can, I just want to see you take care of yourself.”
“Why?” Bloodshot eyes narrowed in suspicion and Tim didn’t know what to make of it.
“We’re friends?”
“We’re not.” Tim didn’t let it discourage him or take it personally. Clearly, Jon wasn’t well, was trying to convince himself that he was, that he didn’t need help. Besides, Tim looked on the bright side, Jon didn’t sound completely sure.
“Alright. Well, as your not-friend, I’m advising you to at least make yourself some tea.”
“I’ll take it under advisement.”
“Christ, Sims!”
“I, I’m sorry, let me, let me help.”
“You’ve done quite enough.” It seemed to Tim that wherever Jon was lately he was in some sort of trouble and when he veered into the breakroom to check on the situation his heart went out to the Lilliputian researcher. Jon had dropped and shattered a mug full of hot water, apparently splashing the man currently yelling at him. Tim took in his trembling hands, the flush high on his vacant face, and the unbearable vulnerability, feeling those big brother instincts rise like a tide. He caught him up again by the arm, drawing him away from the mess and the mumbling.
“You’re like a furnace, buddy.” Gently, with a cupped hand, Tim lifted his jaw and tried to catch his slippery gaze. The heat cradled in his palm was scorching.
“M’not.”
“Now you’re just being contrary.” He led him away with his fingers just at the small of his back stopping at their desks long enough to gather up his things and call for a cab. He balked, hesitating before stepping in and Tim encouraged him with another careful push, helping him back out again when his knees threatened to give. Guiding him inside the flat he dropped their stuff by the door and looked around with a pensive hum. “Next time we’ll go to mine.” Under his breath. Jon’s was cold and not well lit, sparsely furnished with a second hand couch and mismatched tables. It was clean if spartan and somehow very Jon.
“Tim?” Thready, tired, sinking into the couch where Tim deposited him.
“Hey, there. Back in a tick. I’m gonna get you that tea.” Assuming he had any. Assuming he had anything at all. But there was a bottle of paracetamol on the kitchen counter beside an open box tea and a bottle of honey. “Take these, drink this down.” Dimly, Jon followed his instructions, tugging at his buttons and Tim shooed him away to change, surprised when he returned in soft, overlarge clothes. For as prim and proper as he tried to be at work, Jon was a complete bum at home. “Should go to sleep.” Petulant, Jon shook his head, flopping back on the couch and wrapping himself up in a knitted throw like a burrito. “Why not?” This side of his coworker was so soft and unexpected and Tim couldn’t stop himself.
“M’not tired.” Soft, unexpected, and childish.
“Uh huh.” Tim ordered in, something spicy and brothy, and praised Jon’s progress before tugging him, cajoling him into lying his head in his lap. Bad telly droned on, half lidded eyes blinked slow, and Tim was reminded painfully of nights and weekends and mornings spent this exact same way with someone else. Someone gone.
“Why’re you doing this?” Tim dug his fingers into unruly curls, grinning stupidly when Jon melted like a scruffed cat.
“We’re buddies, buddy.” Jon laughed, just an exhale between parted lips.
Mid afternoon the following day Tim proclaimed his work done, confirming it when Jon’s cactus like demeanor made a reappearance with all his fussing. After inputting his number into his cell phone himself, he ruffled already sleep mussed hair, smirking at Jon’s futile attempt to set it right.
“Call if you need anything.”
“I will.” Tim knew he wouldn’t, but it made him feel better anyway. It was the weekend. Jon looked miles better, and he was set up for success with all his tea and meds and snacks within easy reach. Leftover soup waited in the fridge for him to heat later. “Stop fretting, Tim.” But he could hear the thread of affection buried under all the exasperation.
And if he was imagining it, well. He was ever an optimist.
Monday. And Tim was sat on the corner of Jon's desk shoving chocolate digestives into his mouth and rifling through his notes having already ignored one request to leave off.
“You don’t have many friends, do you Jon?” Jon pushed his glasses up from where they’d slipped down the bridge of his nose and selected a biscuit for himself.
“Never needed many.”
“Do you have any?” Jon snatched the pages out of his hand and brushed away any stray crumbs, offering Tim a shy smile.
“I’ve you, don’t I?”
#TMA#the magnus archives#jon sims#tim stoker#precanon#pre season one#sickfic#sick jon#fever#makin frens#the power of friendship!#TMAfanfic
79 notes
·
View notes
Text
Autumn Soulmate | Ben Hargreeves
✦ pairing — Ben Hargreeves x gender neutral!Plus Size Reader
✦ word count — 2k
✦ Soulmate AU
✦ request(s) — Can you do a soulmate AU with Ben (from tua lol) where you have a colorful mark wherever your soulmate first touches you, and youve always been confused bc yours has always been like tentacle shaped or some other weird thing from a monster? ; could you do something Ben Hargreeves x reader picking apples from an orchard or going to a pumpkin patch? ; can you do watching Halloween movies and baking/eating those dumb (but delicious) pillsbury sugar cookies with little pumpkins on them with Ben Hargreeves x reader? & Can you do a fic for fall with Ben Hargreeves, just like sipping hot cocoa or apple cider or something while reading books next to each other?
✦ warnings — angst, mentions of a shootout, mentions of food and drinks, reader is a botanist, fluff.
✦ author's note — I changed a few things from the requests to make them all fit here, but nothing too drastic.
✦ author's note II — this is late, I’m sorry!! But in my defense, apart from health issues getting in the way, I only started getting a taste of autumn last week.
════════════════════════
Your shoulders itched as you followed your sister through the pumpkin patch. She was getting picky over the pumpkins she wanted to buy for her son to carve.
The pumpkins were supposed to be a surprise for the kid with it being the first time he would be allowed to carve a pumpkin and all.
Rolling your shoulders, you pointed at a medium-sized pumpkin. “What about that one?”
She tilted her head, long hair flowing backward as the air breezed it. Why were your shoulders and back feeling so hot if cold air was hitting both of you?
Could it finally be...
You had had so many false hopes that you wished your heart wouldn’t skip that way still every time your shoulders warmed up.
Every time you were sure your soul marks were telling you your soulmate was close, and every time you became disappointed.
Often, you traced the tentacles embedded on your skin, bright in color and without texture. You wondered if your soulmate would like them if you ever found them — and most of all, you wondered why you had such strange marks.
Did they work with octopi? Or perhaps you had misunderstood the shapes and they were something else? Yet the thing you wondered the most was how had you met them, who could’ve touched both of your shoulders when you were a teen?
And why didn’t you remember them?
You lost sight of your sister which you should’ve expected. She was always quicker than you, and too antsy to stay in the same place for too long.
Taking off in order to look for her, you encountered what you assumed to be a family. The seven of them were obstructing the path so you cleared your throat.
All of them turned to look at you as if on cue. You couldn’t make their faces out, six out of seven faces blurred out and you only could see warm eyes and a bright sunflower.
“Well, are you passing or what?”
“Five,” the man you had been staring at chastised. He stepped towards you, hesitantly offering his hand. “I’m Ben.”
You gave him your name, pressing your palm on his to shake his hand.
The second it happened, you knew he felt it too. Your skin tingled and goosebumps erupted all over your body — your shoulders scorched for a moment yet you didn’t find the sensation unpleasant.
And then, Ben smiled at you — the biggest and loveliest smile someone had ever thrown your way.
“Did I do that?” you wondered out loud, unable to take your eyes off the side of his neck.
He nodded. “You don’t remember? I was trying to move you out of the way in that shootout and you grabbed me.”
“Well, I remember that day,” you blurted, “but not you. You had a domino mask on and—“ you interrupted yourself with a sigh. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine, it was something horrible to go through.”
Yeah, it was. You lost your little brother that day. Which you were sure Ben knew because his smile faltered. You gave him a smile of your own, small yet genuine.
He understood that it was fine, that changing the subject would be for the better. “What’s up with the flower, though?” After a pause, he assured you, “I mean, I like it; I’m just curious.”
“Oh! I’m a botanist,” you explained.
Before you could say anything else, one of Ben’s siblings approached you both, dressed in a colorful outfit and sporting sunglasses probably due to a hangover.
“We’re leaving.” He took a long look at you then dragged his eyes back to Ben. “You can stay here and flirt all you want, though.”
“They’re my soulmate,” Ben announced.
“Oh my God!”
Slender arms wrapped around your neck, startling you. The hug was enthusiastic, warm, childlike.
“Klaus,” Ben chastised yet another one of his siblings but unlike Five, Klaus only hugged you tighter instead of ignoring him.
You hugged back, timidly saying hi. Klaus shook you from side to side, elated. You wondered if your sister would be as happy for you as Klaus was for Ben.
When you were finally let go of, you smiled at both of them. Perhaps meeting your soulmate was doing things to you because while you had always been polite, you had never smiled so much in such a short amount of time.
“I’ll tell the others, Romeo.” Klaus patted Ben’s back. As he walked away from you, giving you his back, he yelled, “Be safe, children!”
“I’m so sorry,” Ben chuckled. “Klaus is... well, Klaus. I don’t know how to explain it, or him, better said.”
“I’m guessing not all of your siblings are as enthusiastic?” you half-asked, hoping he wouldn’t mind that you were looking down at your phone.
You typed in a flash, letting your sister know what was going on. She didn’t reply instantly, but that was expected of her.
“They’re all good people,” Ben sighed, “messy, but lovable each in their own way.”
Your sister’s reply came in before you could come up with anything to say to him.
Have fun. Text me if you need me to get you out of there.
Of course your older sister would say that, ever the protective one. She too was a little messy, and extremely lovable. It seemed that Ben and you surely had things in common.
The two of you continued walking through the pumpkin patch, talking about yourselves instead of looking at the pumpkins — his siblings had already picked a few, just like your sister.
“I feel bad that your family bonding time got cut short because of me,” you admitted. “Are you sure you don’t want to join them? We can meet up any other day.”
“Don’t worry, they’ll understand. They know for how long I’ve been looking for you.” He stared off behind you, biting down his bottom lip. His eyes fell on you then and he said, “I’ve never picked apples from an orchard.”
You craned your neck, observing the red apples looked perfect, as though out of a painting. “We’re gonna need a basket.”
The slight chill in the air prompted you to drape the hood of your jacket over your head, afraid it would rain. Ben huffed a laugh beside you, fixing your hood with his free hand. He carried the basket in the other, excited to pick apples from an orchard for the first time.
He climbed the ladder, inhaling the sweet earthy scent as he admired the beautifully contrasting colors. Ben tilted his head, examining the apples closest to him.
Hesitantly, he touched one. “Do you like this one?”
Nodding, you told him, “Pick whichever you like, Ben.” You smiled in assurance at him once he looked down at your figure, watching him drop the apple in the basket.
You didn’t understand how or why, but Ben seemed to stay still for a moment. You were positive he was staring at you, and the only thing you could do was smile even bigger.
He almost started babbling there, he caught himself before his tongue slipped. Ben wasn’t good at complimenting people, and the only thing he could think about was that your smile and the way it made your eyes lit up made him feel calm.
He snapped out of it and went back to the task, giddy.
You saw him grow more comfortable once he had picked a couple of apples. Ben filled the basket with sweet red apples, handing it to you as he stepped down the ladder.
════════════════════════
You carried two mugs with you as you stepped into your bedroom. Closing the door with your hip, you approached him in gentle steps.
Ben looked up, immediately placing the book he had been reading down onto his lap, keeping it open with his thigh. “Thank you, love,” he said softly, taking the warm ceramic you were offering to him.
He inhaled the sweet smell of hot chocolate, blowing onto the lip of the mug in hopes that he wouldn’t burn his tongue.
You waited for him to take a sip before sitting on the bed. As the mattress dipped while you made yourself comfortable, Ben watched you.
He had called you earlier, asking if you would be home soon. He needed to unwind after a bad day. At first, he felt silly, but you didn’t find his complaining pointless nor childish as he had.
You placed your hand on the back of his head, feeling the tense muscles. Softly, you massaged the area with your fingers, applying the lightest of pressures.
And so you found a rhythm, you would stop the movement while he sipped hot chocolate and would take the opportunity to sip your drink, and when he would put the mug down, you would continue the massage.
Once the mugs were empty, Ben slid his arm around your shoulders, bringing your head onto his shoulder.
He picked the book with his free hand and held it closer to you. “Read it to me?” he whispered, “I love the sound of your voice.”
You were halfway through the book when Ben’s arm grew heavy on you, his head falling on top of yours.
Putting the book to the side, you carefully helped Ben lay down on the bed. Throwing the duvet over both of your bodies, reaching over to turn the lights off, you made yourself comfortable too.
════════════════════════
You woke up way earlier than Ben — a force of habit. He hadn’t stayed over many times yet, but you always would let him sleep as much as he needed.
Still, a couple of hours later, he wrapped his arms around your middle from behind, kissing your cheek in greeting.
You craned your neck, smiling at him. “Good morning.”
“Morning. What’s the plan for today?”
“I wanted us to go find last-minute Halloween costumes, but I was going through my movie collection,” you motioned to the boxes in front of you, resting on the dining table, “and I found the horror classics!” You sang, “Sooooooo, we’re baking sugar cookies and having a movie marathon.”
He whined. “You know I’m bad at cooking anything that needs measurements.”
“Baby, the dough is pre-made.”
His eyes lit up. “So we’re having warm cookies without having to measure, or knead, or wait a ton?”
You giggled, nodding. “And they're really cute; they have little pumpkins in the middle. They’re in the fridge if you wanna look at them.”
“Later,” he said, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Have you already picked which movies we’re watching?”
“I was waiting for you.”
His heart skipped a beat. Ben held you flush to his chest, staring at the movie titles before him as you placed your hands on top of his.
Each of you took turns to pick a movie. Begrudgingly, he let go of you in order to walk into your kitchen. You had been right, he admitted when he opened the fridge, the cookies were really cute.
You placed a baking tray on the counter, letting Ben arrange the cookies. You only reminded him to space them up and nothing else, busy with making sure the oven was pre-heated.
“Cookies for breakfast, cuddles, and Halloween movies...” he sighed deeply. “Sounds like the perfect day.”
“Yeah? Who said you would get any cuddles?” you asked teasingly.
He playfully frowned. “No cuddles? What is this? Hell?”
You chuckled, sliding the tray into the oven. As you stood straight, you felt Ben reach for you. Allowing him to pull you closer, you turned to face him.
“I’m so happy I found you.” He kissed your forehead, hugging you by the waist.
“Me too.”
“Yeah? You’ll give me cuddles because you’re happy to have found me, then?”
“You already know I will, don’t you?”
He hummed, smiling down at you as you shifted to gaze at him. God, he really loved your eyes. “And I’ll hug you tighter if you get scared.”
You knew he would.
64 notes
·
View notes
Text
driver’s license
post-canon, angst ahoy
She gets her driver’s licence on Saturday.
On Sunday morning, she takes her first drive alone, and it’s to the last place she should go.
The roads are empty, the rest of Sherwood sensibly asleep in their beds. Last night was another sleepless one, bolting up in her bed with her hands clamped over her mouth and her whole body trembling violently, not stopping until she had paced the length and breadth of her bedroom about fifty times. She was wide awake by that point, too shaken by her nightmares to even try to go back to sleep. She sat against the window, head against the wall, watching her breath fogging up the glass, obscuring the perfect picture on the other side.
He was there, of course. He’s always here in the morning, especially when she wakes up like this. She didn’t turn around, didn’t see him, but felt the weight of his gaze on her anyway. Pleading, lonely, begging her to turn around and come back to him. To slip into his arms and get lost in his words again, to let him strip her away with his touch. And the worst part is that she wanted to. She wanted to do it; there’s some magnetic force that still sits in her and it keeps pulling her towards JD even though she knows he’s gone. It becomes a game two of them play and she loses every single time; if she resists, it hurts, and if she gives in… she doesn’t know, she never has, but it can’t end up good.
Her keys were in her hand before she even knew what she was doing, and she was pulling out of the driveway as the sun rises.
She’s not dressed for a drive; a pair of black pyjama bottoms and an old, old blue sweater. It’s one of the things from before she was a Heather and most importantly-something JD had never seen her in. That’s one of the worst things about this, about him. His fingerprints aren’t just over her body, but all over her clothes too. Invisible to everyone except her. Lines run up and down her blazers where he caressed her, the outline of his hand on her skirt where he ripped it off her body. When she first saw him, she thought ‘now there’s a person I’m never going to forget’. Now she’d give anything for that to be wrong.
She doesn’t think she knows where she’s going, not until she turns right at one junction and feels her blood run cold. It’s funny, she thinks. She hasn’t been here in months and yet it still looks exactly the same. She avoided this place like the plague afterwards. She still could. There’s no-one here and no-one checks the traffic cameras here, not in a street like this. She could turn around and head in the other direction, and she should. But the wheels keep turning, slow but still forwards, and her hands stay locked where they are. The steering wheel barely budges.
She must have been on this street before him. She’s lived in this town her whole life and could draw out a map from memory. It’s not that big after all. She has vague recollections of a birthday party happening somewhere around here, and another of a family barbeque on this street. She trick or treated a few times here as well, first with her parents and then with Martha. But all those are irrelevant now. From here on out this will be known as JD’s street and JD’s street only.
She pulls the car into a sloppy park, thankful for the cautious residents keeping their cars in garages, and leans back in her seat. She doesn’t need to turn that much to see the house beside her.
There’s a new family that lives there now. A mom and dad and two elementary school kids. Both girls. One with dark curly hair in pigtails and the other with a black ponytail, secured with a ribbon. She had watched them the first day they moved in, laughing together, the dad tugging on the girls’ pigtails, the mom organising the move in. What must it be like inside now, with boxes unpacked and furniture sitting proudly. A home, not just a house. A place big enough for all of them. It must have been excited, to have so many of its rooms used.
That’s what struck Veronica when she first went over with him. How big it was, for a family of two. She shakes her head. You could hardly call JD and his father a “family”. Not because of their size, but because of them. They were barely even acquaintances. They merely lived under the same roof and shared the same blood; that was the beginning and end of their relationship. Veronica had wondered why Big Bud Dean had chosen this house, how much it must have cost him, and it was only a week or so ago she had realised; he didn’t care. Why would he, when he’d just leave in the next three months anyway? He picked the first available place, and it just so happened to be a family home.
She had watched him leaving. She swears to herself she isn’t a stalker, but she’s finding that harder and harder to believe. What would you call someone who goes through hoops to find out the day and hour a man is moving out of his house and then skips school just to stand on the street and watch him? What must he think of her, that is, if he even noticed her at all. Too busy wrapped up in himself to notice other people, that’s what JD always said about his father. There’s not a lot she agrees with JD on, but she has to give him that.
She pulls her sweater tighter around herself and blinks, her eyes suddenly stinging and blurry. The last time she went over there, really went over there, rather than hovering on the other side of the street, was the day it happened. She had walked up to that door with ash in her hair and blood on her face, and knocked three times before he had answered. He regarded her with this cool, confused glance, as though he was trying to remember when he had seen her before, and she had bitten her tongue and watched as realisation dawned on his face.
“You’re Jason’s girl, aren’t you?” he had asked. That was the first time she had heard him say his son’s name, she realised. Their little game must end whenever JD wasn’t around. He took a long drink of his beer then and shrugged at her. “Whaddya want?”
Her nails had dug into her palms, leaving burning red marks, and she just about manged to say “your son’s dead” through her tight throat, tears plink-plonking down her face.
He blinked at her, a moment passed, and then another, before he let out an unimpressed-sounding “really?”.
She does wonder what would have happened if Heather Duke hadn’t stumbled upon her at that moment and dragged her away from him, kicking and screaming and swearing all the way down. She pulls her sweater tighter around her. Her throat hurts at the memory. The entire street had come out to see the commotion and what little good standing she still had blew away like dust. Good, straight-A, Harvard bound Veronica had screamed “go fuck yourself” at a seemingly innocent man who just lost his son.
She doesn’t regret it though.
The first hues of blue appear around the edges of the sky now, but according to her clock it’s still far too early for her parents to be up. Her body goes limp in the seat, her head falling to the side, and her eyes flicker up to the window on the second-floor window. On the day they moved in, she saw the light go on in that bedroom and the pink paint going up on the walls. One of the young girls is using it as her room now, and she almost laughs. She plays with her dolls, no idea what two stupid kids did in there, oblivious to how he had pinned her against that wall and she had stripped him down, shivering as he whispered “you’re mine” in her ear.
Or about the soft, stolen kisses they shared on his bed at night, the two of them lying on his bed, their eyes on the ceiling, and talking about the future. Their future, he had said. Where she would go to college and where he would go. Where they should move to, because Veronica was adamant she wasn’t staying in Sherwood forever. And when they’d get their driver’s licences.
“I want mine as soon as I can,” she had told him. “I’ve been dreaming about it since forever. I’ve practiced in my dad’s car.”
“I was wondering how that dent got there,” he had said. She elbowed him in the ribs for that comment. “Suppose I don’t need to. I have my bike.”
“You have a licence for that thing, right?” She turned to him then, studying his profile and feeling a lingering sense of doubt in the back of her mind. That feeling always accompanied them wherever they went, like the hangover to the ecstasy his touch brought. “JD?”
“Course I do, Ronnie,” he had told her, and he pulled her against his chest. “You think I’d take my favourite girl on a bike if I didn’t have a licence for it?”
His favourite girl. He didn’t call her that a lot, maybe once or twice in their entire short-lived relationship, but damn did she love it. He was like that. Good at making her feel special. Like she was made of something precious. Diamonds in her eyes, gold in her veins. To him, she was better than every other girl around and she’s so, so ashamed of the fact that she liked that.
But how much did he really value her in the end?
She slams her hand on the dashboard, hard, and cries out as the dull pain pulses beneath her skin. Tears run down her face, replacing those from earlier this morning. Those haven’t yet dried. She tucks her knees up against her chest, burying her face in them so that the sound of her cries is muffled. She doesn’t know why; not like anyone is awake at this point to be disturbed by a stupid girl like her crying in her car.
He swore he loved her. Over and over again and you’d think that the words would wear themselves out but they never did. They just kept getting bigger and he kept burning hotter and brighter until he scorched her hands when she tried to touch him. He had whispered it reverently into her hair as she slept and murmured it against her lips and even in that house, with the barrel of a gun pointed directly at her, he said it. That was the moment she realised it wasn’t true. Somewhere amongst the pain and the confusion and the splitting headache she looked at him, and she looked at the gun, and asked herself, how could his lips say he loves her while his hand is ready to kill her? Not that he needed a gun to kill her. Maybe he knew that, and so the gun was just to play with her.
He had promised her. That’s the part that hurts more than anything else. The promise he broke, and how he used those jagged edges to cut her open. He promised her he was going to change, swore to her on the love he claimed was God. JD was nothing if not passionate, and for all she knew he meant that at the time. Or maybe he didn’t, and it was all just a game to him. It’s been so long now and it’s still so hard to tell.
She sobs again, a heavy pain tugging on her torn-apart heart. She’s an idiot, and a fool, and a fucking moron and every other damn thing Heather Chandler has called her these past months. Not that she had much of a backbone before but now she can’t even bring herself to be annoyed at her. Because it’s true. Because what kind of person lives through all that, lives through JD and all manipulation and all his lies, and watches as he points a gun at her with nothing but coldness in his eyes, and is still in love with him after that? How does she spring awake from nightmares in the morning and spend the afternoon missing the feeling of his lips against hers? If she loves JD, despite everything he was, then what kind of person does that make her? What gives her the right to lie awake at night and mourn the future she would never have, when three people are cold in their graves because of him?
Her hand finds its way to the glove compartment and suddenly the little plastic card is in her hand, her eyes staring up at her. No-one has commented on it but surely everyone sees it; the look in her eyes that’s hung around ever since that day. She flinches sometimes, when she sees herself in the mirror. What’s become of her; thin, hollow cheeks and shadows beneath her dull, dead eyes, clothes hanging off her shoulders. JD didn’t just end his life when he took that bomb. She might still be breathing, but most days it feels like that’s all she’s doing.
She slams her hand on the dashboard again, and then it happens again, and again and again until she’s banging against it in a fierce, fast rhythm, her mouth open and a burning, broken scream pouring out of it. It tears out of her throt and fills the car, shaking the glass in the windows and ringing in her ears. This isn’t how it was supposed to have happened. She was supposed to run out of the DMV and into his waiting arms, have her feet swept off the ground as he tells her how proud he is of her. She was supposed to drive through the streets with him in the passenger’s seat, sneaking sideways glances at him as the wind tousled his hair. They were supposed to drive up to the hill together and sit over the town, her head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around her, making more stupid plans for the future. She was meant to tease him about getting her licence first and he was meant to roll his eyes and kiss her to shut up her up. He should have been something else, and she should be waking up with butterflies in her stomach rather than lead in her lungs.
She sits back and shakes her head at herself. Her hand is red and pulsing with pain from where she smacked it. She’s ridiculous. Since when does she have the right to decide what was ‘meant’ to happen? JD thought that. He declared it on the other side of her closet door- “I was meant to be yours, we were meant to be one”. As far as he was concerned, the universe is, was, theirs, and they were the masters over what happened in it. And she’s not that person, she’s dragging herself away from being that person every day, even if it means her nails are caked with blood and dirt. She doesn’t get to choose what happens, not or herself or anyone, and she doesn’t get to sit here and claim what that he should have been something different.
It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.
Her mom told her she’d love someone again, a few weeks after the pep rally when she was in a particularly bad state of mind. She had sat on the edge of her bed and run her fingers through her hair and told her that he might have been the first, but he wouldn’t be the last. Her heart won’t be broken forever. She had nodded and murmured something in agreement, and waited until her mom smiled and patted her head before she left. What her mom doesn’t know is that JD didn’t break her heart-he put a bomb in it and blew it up. And whatever she felt for him, there’ll be no feeling it for anyone ever again.
She looks back over at the house. There’s a light on in the kitchen and she slides lower in the seat, despite being safe from view already. Who could it be? The dad maybe, or the mom, getting ready for the day ahead, or maybe one of the kids catching the morning cartoons or treating themselves to cookies for breakfast. It doesn’t really matter, what matters is they’re in that house now and neither Jason nor Big Bud Dean are. For better or worse, there’s no trace of him left in Sherwood, Ohio, not except her memories and one page in the yearbook. One day she’ll make peace with that fact.
She turns the key in the ignition and the car rumbles into life again, annoyed after being neglected for so long. She lets out a long, steady breath, the last of her tears running down her face like rain down her windshield. She turns the wheel, peels away from the kerb, and hopes she’ll never come back to this street for as long as she lives. She doesn’t know if her heart can take it again.
#heathers the musical#heathers fanfic#veronica sawyer#jason dean#jdronica#idk what the fuck this is but it's a thing i wrote#stream drivers license ig
20 notes
·
View notes
Note
Talk about your favorite OC. Tell me EVERYTHING (you’re willing to tell) I will listen
This is Arden! They were a former member of the Badlands, having left after Skeppys possession. They originally joined the Badlands as they preferred neutrality in conflict, and wanted a relatively safe place for themself and Esta to stay for the time being. The nether hybrid acceptance was an added bonus- one they heavily appreciated. Mostly, they were just a regular citizen, but they did serve as an emergency strategist and/or fighter for anyone in need. Their preferred weapons are (ironically) tridents and crossbows, but they have atleast a little experience with most.
If you couldn’t tell by now, Arden is a strider hybrid! They’re strongest when in/nearby a heat source, and are extremely weak to water. They’re completely resistant to lava and fire, and leave lingering scorch marks wherever they walk. Their natural body temperature is heightened, so the cold isn’t much of a big deal if it’s only for a little while. Long term, however, will slowly make their skin turn gray and they will eventually pass out. This is why when they join Snowchester later on, they live just on the outskirts. They set up a lava moat both for heat reasons and to swim in, which Esta enjoys as well.
Now, this is Esta! They’re a strider hybrid as well, although much younger. This is why their appearance is different, as they are not fully developed. They are more resistant to fire at this age, but also much more susceptible to water and cold related injuries. They were ‘adopted’ at 7 by Arden, who acts as their older sibling figure and caretaker. They get into trouble a lot, and often have to be bandaged up by Arden. They are obsessed with fish, and dream of being able to swim with them. It’s not possible of course, but Arden tries to makes up for that by buying them fish plushies, ocean books, etc., Arden even learned to embroider purely for the sake of adding the fish onto Estas overalls that we see above- its their favorite outfit, now.
Esta doesn’t really understand anything about the factions, but believes that where ever Arden takes them is ‘obviously’ the best. They still miss bbh and the others sometimes, but they think Tubbo is really nice!
Anyways they’re basically this adhdhsj
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
Not Another Copy
Jeanne d’Arc (Alter) x Reader
Trigger Warning: Light Gore, Death, light cursing
Summary:
Created from the image of Jeanne d’Arc. Alter finds herself always compared to her ruler self. How the Dragon Witch should be kinder, softer, more like her original self. Even her own master paid more attention to the original.
Having no history to call her own. Jalter puts it upon herself to create a singularity of her own. One where she is the ‘Jeanne d’Arc’. Not some copy with an unstable spirit origin. Finally she’ll have her own story.
Author’s Note:
This was the piece that Tumblr mobile decided to eat. I know that flowers are edible but please don’t eat my works. I’d like to share their full bloom and not just the title.
Inspired by the song Victim ~ Mili
Listen to the song here
“Then it dawned on me that all I wanted was
An approval that you're never willing to give”
Mili ~ Victim
“Little sister! Would you like to join Santa Lily and I to lunch? I believe it’d be a good bonding moment for the four of us since Master is coming along too,” cheered a woman who mirrored her looks in every way. No. That wasn’t right. It was her who was the copy. Not this bright sun before her.
“I’d rather pass. Besides I have better things to do,”
“Don’t be like that. Come on!” The blonde woman grabbed Jalter by the collar, dragging her double along with her as Lily followed behind obediently. Mouthing ‘I’m sorry,’ to her older self.
~
‘There’s no way I could be based off that woman,” thought the silver haired maiden as she boredly watched her ‘older sister’ feed Santa Lily while she absentmindedly poked her food around.
“You really are the sisterly type, huh Joan? It’s really cute seeing the three of you hang around together. It’s like watching a real family sometimes,” Y/N said with a cheerful grin. “What do you think Jalter?”
“It’s whatever as long as it keeps her happy. I guess I can tolerate it,” There goes that nickname again. Why couldn’t she be referred to as Joan? Then again the simple thought brought a bitter taste to her mouth. Maybe a different name would suit her. Yes, she has the title of The Dragon Witch but that was given to her by Caster Gilles. The one who created with his selfish wish.
There are many timelines are there not? Surely, she could create a place of her own. A country separate from the world where she could ‘be herself’. She wasn’t even sure what that meant anymore.
~
Finally, she had a place of her own. Tears pricked her eyes at the quaint village before her. She wiped her eyes, a light chuckle escaping her lips.
‘How pathetic,’ Jalter thought to herself, resting her head on her dining table. ‘I swiped one of master’s lesser grails just to create this. A countryside where everyone knows me and I know them. Just how more mundane could this wish be?’
Those were her final thoughts before heading out of her cottage, greeting those who passed her by with a genuine smile. The Avenger servant went along her day normally, buying groceries, playing with the village children before finally heading back home.
Would this have been the life they lead if they never became a saint? Shaking the thought from her head. She laid in her bed, closing her eyes as she wished this simple life to stay with her.
~
She awoke to the sound of screams. The scent of smoke and scorched flesh stung her nose. Throwing the front door open, her eyes were greeted by a familiar sight. Flames consumed the village she learned to love with Gilles in the middle of it all. That bastard.
“Come out. Come out wherever you are, my sweet Jeanne. Where is my beautiful Dragon Witch?”
“Lady Jeanne is not a witch! She’s my friend and older sister,” screamed a young child. Burn marks peppered her pure flesh, her tears only bringing more pain to the fresh wounds.
Gillies’ turned to look at the innocent little thing, a maniacal grin painting his lips.
“Ohh! How adorable of you to protect something you have no knowledge of. It just makes my whole body shiver with excitement!” He glanced over to his ‘beloved’. “Why don’t you show them oh great one! Show them what you can truly do!”
Flames licked Jalter’s fingertips. Her face contorting into an all too familiar scowl painting her features. The silver haired maiden stood in front of the frightened child, muttering a quick apology before reducing them into ash.
She truly was foolish to try to run away from fate. The flames that burned her will forever be a part of her. That pain, the people’s curses. All those things made Jeanne D'arc Alter.
~
“Jalter! Stop this at once!” Her master’s voice rang in her ears causing a sharp pain in her chest.
‘I’ve come this far, might as well continue the role of the villain,’ she thought to herself before laughter just spilled from her throat. No matter how much work she’d put into something it’ll all be reduced to ash in the end. She’ll never be able to leave behind these flames.
“I was wondering when you were going to show up. To think I was actually-” a lump caught in her throat as she watched the villagers cower behind her true self. Their blonde hair waving in the wind like a protective sunlight, a halo that she had no choice but to break. She never did stand a chance in the end, did she?
~
Soon enough she was surrounded by other servants. Gillies being easily defeated by a handful of riders, not even being able to summon any of his beasts from his grimoire.
Her mind went blank as she blindly burned each servant that went after her. Choked screams filled her head. Whether it came from her old comrades or herself. She didn’t know anymore. All she could do was swing her flag pole and reduce everything around her to ash once again.
Was her dream of having a simple village life impossible? Did she have no choice but to burn each bridge she came across? Was there even a chance for her to change?
With her spirit core weakening. Tears slipped from the dragon witch’s eyes.
“I just wanted something to call my own. I just wanted a life, a history of my own. Is that too much to ask for!”
Master smiled apologetically, running their fingers through Jalter’s hair before they disappeared back to the throne of heroes.
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
Misplaced
HEY GUESS WHO’S BACK
Okay, here’s the deal. Half the reason I have a hard time posting stories on this site is that I’m no good at keeping up with the previous/next buttons. I hate it, it takes a lot of time, and I just don’t want to. SO I’m gonna get around this by just reblogging the original post with the next chapter every time I update this story on AO3. I am currently in the process of rewriting and only the first 1.5 chapters will remain the same.
That said, here’s chapter 1!
He clawed his way to consciousness. His whole body ached and a dull, pounding pressure had built up behind his eyes. An unnatural energy hummed around him, but he ignored it in favor of trying to figure out where he was. Pushing himself to his knees, he immediately took note of the scorch marks surrounding him. They formed an intricate array that encircled him and he immediately recognized the markings as forming a part of a spell. He didn’t know what spell, or where the information had come from, but it made him nervous.
He scooted back and gently eased himself off the pedestal. The floor wasn’t too far and he landed with a hollow thump. Blinking, he scanned the room he found himself. It was dark, making it impossible to determine the exact size, but he could tell the room was massive. The pedestal he’d woken up on was one of four that decorated the center of the room and a nearby carpet led the way further into the gloom.
With nothing better to do, he followed it. Deeper and deeper into the darkness he moved. With time, his eyes adjusted to the lack of light. Shadows danced in the corners of his vision, but when he turned to look closer, he found nothing there. Voices whispered at his feet, begging for release or someone to share in their torment. He carefully ignored them and kept moving. As long as he didn’t stop, he’d be fine.
Just keep going. Don’t stop, don’t ask, and don’t try to ask who was there.
Turning a corner, he paused at the slice of light that filtered through the crumbled section of wall. The light wasn’t blinding and he assumed it was dark out, but it was still enough to hurt his eyes as he approached and stepped through. He blinked rapidly to adjust to the abrupt change in lighting.
The hum of energy increased and a shudder ran down his spine. Invisible hands grabbed at him, trying to pull him back within the darkness, unwilling to let him leave. Without looking back, he marched onward, hands wrapped protectively around his chest.
Something followed him, he could feel it. The unnatural energy crackled and hummed and a memory of green fog danced across his mind. Shaking his head, he kept moving. As long as he didn’t look back, he’d be fine. Don’t stop. Keep moving. Don’t look back. Just a little bit further.
Abruptly, the energy seemed to go away and the unnatural hum died down to something annoying but tolerable. He didn’t stop to question the sudden change, but took the opportunity to charge ahead until he stumbled onto a road. He was still no closer to figuring out where he was, but where there was a road, there was bound to be a town. Picking a direction at random, he hugged the orange vest closer and began walking.
—
Morning found him curled up in the back of a pickup truck. The driver had found him walking and offered to give him a lift to the nearest town. He’d hopped into the truck bed and settled down. With the lack of movement, exhaustion had crept up and washed over him. He’d only meant to lay down for a moment.
He pushed himself up, blinked the sleep out of his eyes and grabbed blindly for the edge of the truck bed. There was a loud clank of metal hitting metal and he recoiled. It took him a moment of searching before his gaze finally fell on the metal fingers clinging to the truck.
Metal?
He pulled his hand up and wiggled his fingers. They responded as he expected, but the metal glint showed that they weren’t real. Just to make sure, he grabbed a finger and tugged gently. His brain registered the tug and the pressure of his flesh hand, but otherwise there was no sensation. How odd.
Where had it come from? Why was his arm missing? He sat down and wiggled his fingers again, trying to dig through and pull up the relevant memories. Nothing came at first and he started to give up when the impressions of sleepless nights, helplessness, and pain bubbled forth. The memories were disjointed and out of order and, as he sifted through them, he found gaps in the available knowledge.
There wasn’t time to deal with this. He had things to do. He had to figure out where he was, for one. Maybe find someone to help. The missing arm was a problem for tomorrow. Standing up again, he grabbed the edge of the truck bed and slipped out. Glancing at the truck one last time, he rubbed his shoulder where flesh met metal and began to walk away.
Keep going forward. Don’t look back.
He walked until he found a gas station and entered. He scanned the room and finally found the maps in a back corner. Meandering over, he pulled a map out and looked it over. Everything looked familiar in the sense that he had seen it before, but he couldn’t seem to draw on the information locked away in his brain.
Trauma? Concussion? Magic? There was something. He could feel it just out of reach. Every time he started to get close, a mental block would pop up and he’d shy away. Fine. He would worry about it later.
Making his way to the front, he eyed the inhabitants of the little store nervously. The map was spread on the counter as he looked up at the cashier. “Excuse me,” he asked, trying to ignore the way his voice shook and the hoarse quality from disuse (or had he screamed until his voice broke? He couldn’t be sure). “Can you tell me where I am?”
The cashier looked him over before leaning forward and tapping a small city on the map. “Right here. You alright kid?”
“’M fine.” It was a lie but it slipped out before he could come up with anything else to say. “Just lost.” He scanned the map until his gaze landed on a familiar city name. Shouting, engines, and gasoline fill his senses. Familiarity and safety. Home. He needed to go there.
He dug around in his pockets until he found a leather wallet. There was just enough cash for the map and a cup of coffee. He didn’t bother trying to use the card. A niggling feeling told him that it wouldn’t work and he couldn’t remember the PIN for it, anyways. As he left the gas station, map in one hand and coffee in the other, the hum of energy increased and he felt out of place, like he’d been badly photoshopped into an image.
He returned to the gas station once more, just long enough to get a sense of direction, and started walking. Midday rolled around and with it came the beginning of a headache. By the time the sun set, his head was pounding and his left shoulder throbbed in time with his pulse. A barely tolerable pain was coming. Something far worse than anything he would ever be capable of dealing with. But there was nothing he could do except grit his teeth and bear it.
Cars drove past and, for the most part, he ignored them. He was too tired and panicked to risk hitchhiking. It wasn’t until a car pulled off to the side a little ways ahead and someone stepped out that he finally stopped to consider.
“Are you okay?” a woman asked as she hurried over to him. He blinked back at her for a moment before he took a shuddery breath and shook his head. The woman reached out to him and said, “You poor dear. Where are you trying to go? Would you like a ride to the next city, at least? You’ll never make it on foot.”
He didn’t want to impose. The truck ride from earlier had been an ordeal, but she had a point. He couldn’t possibly walk everywhere, and maybe they could cut the travel time drastically. He clumsily pulled the map out of his pocket and held it out to here. “Um. I uh… Here.” He tapped a city that he had circled back when he’d first gotten the map and was again gifted with a sensation of comfort and promised familiarity.
“Oh, perfect!” The woman said as she grabbed his wrist and began to guide him to the car. “We’re actually planning to pass through there. We can give you a lift there. Here we go.”
They were a family of four: mom, dad, and two boys. He found himself in the back seat between the two brothers. The conversation was kept light and loose. For the most part he let the family drive the conversation, answering questions as needed and chiming in here and there.
All good things had to end eventually, however, and the family came to a hotel when the night was finally too dark and too late to keep going. For a moment, he considered staying. He had no money, and they were well aware that he had nothing to his name, but he couldn’t impose. Besides, as he waited by the car, the hissing energy prickled and nipped at his ankles and he knew he couldn’t stop even for rest.
He started to walk away when a hand grabbed his shoulder and he turned to see the mom. “Where are you going?” she asked. “It’s late. Come on, we’ll get you a room.”
He shook his head. “I-I-I’m sorry. I can’t. I- I just…” He rubbed at his eyes as the mom deflated.
“I understand. But please wait for just a minute, okay? I’ll be right back. Just a minute.” he didn’t even look up, too ashamed to risk seeing the disappointment. He waited until he felt her grab his flesh hand and press something papery into it. “It’s not much,” she said sadly. “We don’t carry a lot of cash and we don’t have a lot to spare, but it should be enough for food and a ticket to wherever you’re going.” He looked up and she gave him a sad smile. “Be careful, okay?” He nodded and she finally retreated back to her car.
How odd. He hadn’t realized just how starved for company he was until he’d been surrounded by conversation. But now he was alone. So very, very alone. He bit his lip and rubbed the port on his shoulder before finally turning away to continue his journey to wherever.
He didn’t sleep that night. He did, however, find a bus station that would take him straight to his destination. The pounding behind his eyes had steadily increased to a constant thrum and he found himself absently rubbing his temples while trying to avoid any and all sources of light.
Morning brought an entirely new level of hell. The intense migraine had brought along light sensitivity and nausea. What little money wasn’t spent on the bus ticket went to various over the counter pain killers and the strongest coffee he could find. As he resettled into his seat for the umpteenth time, he leaned against the cool window and closed his eyes. Perhaps if he could sneak a nap in, he would feel better.
He woke up to the bus about to leave his stop and only barely managed to get off in time.
It wasn’t hard for he to orient himself once he took the time to look around. One street sign and he knew what direction to take. The layout of the city came to him gradually as he walked, like a map in a video game that had to be filled in through exploration. With it came vague almost-impressions of a happy childhood spent running and playing and generally getting into trouble. He took his time walking until the familiar shop finally came into view. Hope bloomed and he dashed the final yards to the main office.
“Hello?” he called, looking around and trying to ignore the desperation in his voice. There was no answer, yet somehow he knew not to expect one. The shop had obviously been closed for the evening, which meant the work area would be deserted.
But the garage was built into a house. If he could just find the main entrance…
A quick search revealed a side entrance painted in such a way so as to not stand out. Hidden near the door, roughly hip height, was a doorbell which he pressed a couple times. It wasn’t long before heavy footsteps stomped over and the door flung open.
“What’d’ya want?” a rough voice snarled and he was hit with the impression of oil stains and endless patience. The word ‘lance’ danced around in his head but he couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out why the man reminded him of an ancient weapon.
The man’s gaze landed on him and his eyes widened in shock before narrowing. “If this is some kind of sick joke,” the man snarled and he recoiled, apologies spilling forth before the thought could be finished.
“I’m sorry! I’m sor- I-I-I, Hhhh- I didn’t know wher-where else to go!” He cowered, every instinct screaming to run away. He took a step back, still babbling in a slowly ramping panic. “I’m lost. Didn’t know where else to go. I thought you’d help me. I can leave. I’m sorry.” He turned and managed all of three steps before a rough hand grabbed his right arm and held him. With a frightened yelp, he dropped and twisted, metal arm bent to protect his head and face in preparation for the blows to come.
Instead, a familiar voice soothed, “Woah there, son! Not gonna hurt you. Just…” he glanced over, still hiding behind his arm, as the older man sighed. “C’mon. Let’s get you inside.”
It took some prodding and quite a bit of effort to get him inside. He was determined to leave, the previous impressions of warmth and safety long since replaced by fear and uncertainty, while the man seemed determined to get him inside. In the end, he found himself slung over the shorter mechanic’s shoulder and hauled inside, where he was quickly deposited on the couch.
“First things first, what’s yer name, kid?”
He dithered about, flesh fingers playing with the metal port attached to his shoulder as he weighed the pros and cons of giving an answer. Finally, he ducked his head and replied, “Arthur, sir. I think...” He missed the man flinch, expression twisting as though he’d expected the answer though it still hurt.
“Drop that ‘sir’ business. It’s Lance. And hold your head up! God, yer a sorry sight.” Lance looked Arthur over before holding up a hand. “You can sleep on the couch. We’ll deal with… this,” Lance gestured at Arthur, “in the morning.”
Arthur nodded and moved to sprawl on the leather couch as Lance left the room. He’d just gotten comfortable when the man reappeared with a blanket and a pillow. The pillow was handed over and Arthur quickly readjusted himself before the blanket was unfolded and draped over him. Nothing else was said as the light was turned off and Lance retreated for the night.
Left alone, Arthur tried to settle down to sleep. It wasn’t long before the unnatural hum of energy returned in full force. His skin crawled with it and he quickly gave up on sleep. Throwing the blanket aside, he jumped up and began to pace. Keep moving. Don’t stop. As long as he kept moving, the energy couldn’t find him and he’d be safe.
Safe from what, he didn’t know, nor did he want to find out. He just knew that stopping was bad. Needless to say, he didn’t get much rest that night.
Please reblog and comment. It fuels my desire to write and I love interacting with the fandom!
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
Devotional Hours Within the Bible
by J.R. Miller
Israel Often Reproved (Amos 4:4-13)
Amos probably was a Judean. He was a small farmer and shepherd. He cultivated a few sycamore trees whose fruit was lightly esteemed. He owned a little flock of sheep, sheep of a peculiar breed which yielded an excellent kind of wool. He pastured his sheep in the wilderness of Judea.
Bethel, the ecclesiastical capital of the Northern Kingdom, was the principal scene of his preaching. "Go to Bethel and sin!" cried the prophet. Bethel was their place of worship - but every time they came there, they sinned because their worship was sin. Instead of bowing before the true God and adoring Him, they bowed before idols and gave them the honor which belonged to God alone. The more devout they were, therefore, the more they dishonored the Lord. Their great zeal, as shown in their sacrifices and tithes and free-will offerings, only multiplied their sin and heaped up sorer judgment against them. "Go to Bethel and sin; go to Gilgal and sin yet more. Bring your sacrifices every morning, your tithes every three years. Burn leavened bread as a thank offering and brag about your freewill offerings - boast about them, you Israelites, for this is what you love to do!" declares the Sovereign LORD." Amos 4:5-6
Their religion was all a pious farce, and the more there was of it - the more of an abomination it was unto God. God cannot be pleased with mere forms of worship and with ceremonials. The more we multiply these, the more do we grieve Him - if our heart is not in them. We may say we have no idols now in our churches; but are we sure of this? Do we truly worship God in our church services? When we sing the hymns, are our hearts fixed upon God? When we pray, are we really talking to God? When we confess sins, is the confession sincere? When we sit in God's house, are we truly in God's presence, breathing out our heart's love and worship to Him? If not, what or whom are we adoring, praising, worshiping? Empty religious forms - must have some idol at the heart of them.
The prophet told them very plainly what was in their hearts. "This is what you love to do!" You love this! You love to make a great display in your religion. This display of piety - is just to your taste. You like to cover up your sins - with forms of worship, appearing as saints before the world, though in secret cherishing and practicing all manner of wickedness!
This is God's own picture of these ancient 'worshipers'. We need to look honestly at it - to see if it is OUR picture. God looks at the heart! No external appearances are of any value - unless they are genuine expressions of what is in the heart! Pirate ships carry reputable flags to cover their dishonorable character. Religious hypocrisy often puts at its masthead, the colors of devout saintliness. But God cannot be deceived.
Someone told of past sorrows, sorrows which were sent with blessing, messengers bringing good in their hands - but which were rejected, turned away, resented as enemies, though they came as friends. When we sin against God - He sends penalties. Suffering always follows sin - but these penalties come to us really as friends, to save us from sinning again. God had sent penalties to the people of Israel - but they had not minded them. "I gave you empty stomachs in every city and lack of bread in every town - yet you have not returned to Me," declares Jehovah." The Lord had not let them alone in their sins. He had not merely allowed them to go on in their evil ways, without any effort to save them. In these verses we learn of judgment after judgment which God says He sent upon His people.
First there was "empty stomachs" - famine, lack of bread. Next He had withheld rain from their land. To make it yet more clear to them that the hand of God was in this withholding, He had caused it to rain in one place and not in another, so that while on one piece of ground everything was green and fresh, on another piece near by - all life was withered and dead. Then He had sent blasting and mildew, hot winds and blight, to destroy what the drought had left.
After these, He had sent palmer-worms to eat up the vineyards and gardens which were watered by artificial means and thus escaped the previous judgments. Having thus destroyed their gardens and crops and vineyards, He had then sent a plague upon the people themselves, sweeping away many of them. War had followed pestilence, and their young men had been slain. After all these terrible things, an earthquake had come, overthrowing and destroying many.
There are lessons here, which we must not lose. We must not misinterpret God. No doubt some of these people, when pursued by trouble, said that God was hard and cruel and unkind - to send so many losses and sufferings upon them. So it seemed. But here we are permitted to look into God's heart - and see a motive of love in all these sore troubles which He sent upon His people. They had gone far away from Him, and He would bring them back again. One affliction failed, and then He sent another and another and another. These sore troubles were all God's angels of love sent to try to save God's children. We ought to fix this lesson in our hearts, for some time we may need its light.
One came to a pastor with sore complainings against God. He had been most unkind, even cruel, he said. The pastor listened to a recital of a long series of bitter experiences - disappointments, sufferings, hardships. It certainly seemed that if these were God's doings - they were strange expressions of love. But the pastor questioned a little further, as gently as he could, and he learned that his friend had not been living near God during the time of these troubles, and had not been brought nearer to Him through the things which had seemed so hard - he had indeed been drifting farther away all the while, out into the wintry cold of unbelief and rebelliousness .
We may not interpret providences, saying that the history of this friend was the same as that of these ancient people, whom God had chastened to save - but who only went farther away from Him. Yet there is no doubt that the design of God in all His severe dealings with His children is the same - to bring back those who have wandered, or to bring still nearer those who are already near to Him. It is always love, never anger, that comes in the messengers of divine chastening .
"Yet have you not returned unto Me! says the Lord." After each recital of judgment, comes this same sad refrain. God had sent famine to bring them back. "Yet have you not returned unto Me!" He had withheld rain. "Yet have you not returned unto Me!" He had smitten their grain with blasting and mildew, and the palmer - worm had eaten up their vineyards and gardens. "Yet have you not returned unto Me!" He had sent pestilence and war, with terrible loss and devastation. "Yet have you not returned unto Me!" Earthquakes had caused terror over the land, laying much of it in ruin. "Yet have you not returned unto Me!"
This recurring refrain is infinitely pathetic. It sounds like the sob of God's breaking heart. It tells of wonderful love in Him for His people - in spite of all their sin; of love that forbears and waits and pleads and suffers on, never wearying in its efforts to save. It tells, too, of love's sorrow - when the erring do not return. It speaks of divine disappointment when even sore judgments fail to bring back the sinning children. It is a wonderful revealing of the heart of God. No one who catches its meaning, can ever again say that God is cruel or unkind in sending troubles upon His people. He wants to save them - not to hurt or destroy them. We learn, too, what we should always do when any chastening falls upon us; we should get nearer to God! No matter how holy our lives may be, there is yet a holier holiness, a nearer nearness, attainable. If we are conscious of specific sins - we should put them away. We disappoint and grieve God when in any chastening, we do not return unto Him.
God reminds the people of how mercifully He had dealt with them. "You were as a brand plucked out of the burning ." This is a striking figure. In the overthrow, probably by an earthquake, some seem to have perished. Those who escaped were almost destroyed, coming out of the overthrow injured, barely saved. They were like a brand, a piece of wood, which has passed through the fire, and has been plucked out, not burned up altogether - but scorched and blackened, partly burned, bearing the marks of the fire upon it. The picture is very suggestive. Sin is a fire. Wherever it touches it burns, scorches, wastes, consumes the beauty. Secret sin is like hidden, smoldering fire, which, unseen - yet eats away the life's substance and defaces the divine image that is on it.
What fire does to the trees when it sweeps through the forests, blackening them, destroying their leaves and all their greenness; sin does to the lives about which its flames flow. We all know lives, once lovely - but now scorched and blackened by sin. If sin is like a fire, human lives are like trees which the fire consumes. Every one of us has been hurt by this fire. Unless plucked out by some hand of love - our lives shall be utterly destroyed by the flames of sin which roll over all this world. But the burning brand may be saved.
A gardener saw one day in a pile of burning rubbish, a piece of root that was blackened and scorched, partly charred. But he plucked it out and, taking it away, he planted it, and it grew. It proved to be the root of a valuable species of grapevine, and in a few years the vine springing from it covered a large arbor and in the autumn days hung full of rich purple clusters. Saved lives are brands plucked from the burning. Thousands of them shine now in blessedness, redeemed from destruction, clothed in beauty, covered with the fruits of righteousness and holiness!
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
GIARDINO BLU
A / N: before I started everything I wanted to warn you that I don't speak English very well, forgive me if the story sucks
Things bloom
In unexpected moments
"But I know
This can't go on forever
I have to let you go
But I want you so much "
15th century: March 21st Italy
POV Author
It was a scorching summer day in a quiet northern Italian city in which it was not well known except for the fact that it was surrounded by fine grains of areas that covered the streets, mountains and houses, its residents were mostly humble people who lived their lives calmly, and without a lot of worries just having to stay in the same village day by day, there lived a man he was not a high class nobleman who lavished wealth and money wherever he went he was a simple homeless person nor a he was certainly not the most humble person in terms of money but he had an inherent and pure beauty that was easily hidden by his "rags" and dirt
An orphan since his birth with the disappearance or death of his parents he doesn't even know without knowing the world trapped walking in circles he steals to survive not that he really had much choice
ー hey little thief come back here with this
But an escape really was getting difficult to escape almost the whole city knew his face and knew him very well that was what they called him "little thief" even though he knew his name Naruto Uzumaki this time was a simple bakery that had the displeasure of being in touch with the blond but it wasn't his fault after all in this village street people only have one end to starve or steal to survive what would you choose?
He ran for a while until the lord of the bakery got tired of running after him giving up on leaving him with bubbling anger in his eyes Naruto took advantage of it and started eating the piece of bread with such speed that he realized where he was only after savoring "his "food in a lost forest was all he needed. The forest was full of trees it was even surprising compared to the hot climate of the village that no water was so dry wasting nature would appreciate everything since it was his first time there in his 21 years but the desperation to leave and go to the place who called it home was bigger
He walked on confusing trails up and down up there and without even knowing if he was close to leaving that place, it didn't make sense to sigh loudly with tiredness "My back is killing me and my legs are stuck in a stream" I thought with every step I took I didn't know little where he was going had left by the city gates they said that the forest was haunted they had already seen monsters there that they had tails and fierce looks stories to prevent their children from leaving home or disobeying their parents "If you don't behave I will leave you in the forest "but the most" scary "" The Monster of the Castle "the monster of the castle say he was the son of a lord who was the fruit of a love that could not even exist he was born with a few lines on his face that was thing for an ox to sleep Naruto always thought of the orphanage where he lived always told him these stories he didn’t understand yes he knew that there was indeed a man who lived in a huge old castle like the grains of sand in the city is that he was in fact the son, not of a lord, but of nothing but nothing less, the Duke of Florence, the youngest son in which he was sent is expelled for his appearance to this castle, the residents who saw him said that they said he it was ugly disgusting it’s even horrendous the blond with beautiful eyes blue sky didn’t understand didn’t understand why they didn’t even really know the man
Surprised sighs mixed with euphoria came out of his mouth as he witnessed a huge castle in front of him, it looked like it was made up of unanswered questions, he was in fact lost, but now what he was going to do to face the monster or remain lost without even being good at it. forest
He did the obvious right back to the forest not five minutes after turning around he started trying to climb the huge walls several and several attempts most fail well all until he finally managed to get over the huge walls "My God what a hell wall "
His surprise was such a huge garden composed of the most diverse and beautiful flowers ever seen, each one more beautiful than the other yellow red white pink and many more flowers never seen was right in front of him his eyes shone but he never observed everything with the greatest fascination the most beautiful thing he has witnessed in all these years but at the back of him he saw a man with short medium-length reddish hair is a thin physique watering is cultivating these flowers he seemed so serene cultivating his flowers he was so beautiful indeed there were thousands of lines and some black dots marking his face it only made him more beautiful Naruto barely noticed the hours seconds transformed into minutes gardem gave way to hours when he realized the man had already entered his castle is left his jrdim there lit only by the dim light of the moon
Naruto looked at those beautiful flowers
"Only a few will not hurt anyone"
He thought with a careful leap he looked like a cat just on the tip of his feet he was admiring for a while or a lot he lost his hours touching the flowers with delicacy they were so soft then after a few minutes he tore some flowers with care, right, carefully wrapped them in his little cloth when coming back to the forest it seemed that going back to his village was much easier maybe because of his wandering mind that only thought about the day he saw "The monster of the castle" that of a monster only had names he didn't look like a monster people really invent each thing he went to his little hiding place it was nothing too much to tell the truth just a bed is a table it could be worse was sleeping on his straw bed because we don't have any improvised money not soon after putting the flowers in a glass of water I could hardly sleep that's a thousand because just to throw himself in bed if he sleeps there like a cannonball the truth was that he only thought about the garden and the castle he wanted so much to talk to the man when you saw earlier your hunger took away everything when you fell asleep due to tiredness your thoughts were gone for an instant
Naruto POV
Italy June 22
Waking up with the hot sun hitting me in the face again was an ass every day the mana thing didn’t make a day that this village doesn’t get a miserable heat and honestly I didn’t want to wake up I looked to the side lazily but the sleep soon passed me I got up hurriedly and went to the flowers I took them in my hand shock
ー It wasn't a dream, I walk so exhausted I'm even daydreaming it can only be that
My belly is asking for urgent food I give a loud sigh but one day
ー Sometimes I just wanted to be rich
With the flowers I went walking through the streets, vast streets of the city simple houses mostly humble surrounded me small markets but a common day for everyone as always people looked at me unwanted this is what I am but I couldn't blame them in the end one a thief who steals them almost daily would be funny if it weren't tragic an old woman approached me with a smile on her face different from most people around me, how strange people usually ignore me or pretend I'm not even here or even stop to curse me I looked at him suspiciously "not a good thing"
ー What beautiful flowers my young man how much they cost
She spoke with a gentle smile I raised an eyebrow what the hell is she talking about I dared to ask
ー What?
She looked at me confused we both looked at each other in confusion it was even funny the scene two idiots not understanding anything they were talking about we were on different pages it would never work
ー You are not selling your flowers
I looked at the makeshift bouquet in my hands. Sell ? Flowers ? Money….
ー Ehhh yes ... I am selling it I mean they are mine… .. lady
Trying to sound as good as possible as someone who really knows what he is doing as well as I thought it sucked the old woman laughed outrageously she took some coins and handed it to me I took it firmly let her decide not to give it to me anymore
ー Well I want these roses here
She pointed it out and gave it to me quickly and right after its withdrawal I still didn't understand anything in one hand flowers in the other money
ー Money….
A whirlwind of thoughts prowled my head. I could sell flowers to get what to eat and live, maybe get out of this crappy village and thus be able to live, but these flowers are not even mine, how can I sell them?
I approached a guy who sold Shikamaru muffins I think he looked at me ugly with a mixture of tiredness he looked like he hadn't slept in ages with his black hair the Nara family one of the families but humble is respected at the same time I remembered I had assaulted him last week he just doesn't get me because of the laziness that has to be moved a putz muscle it had to be him my stomach rumbled loudly I apparently gave a boring smile and my discomfort didn't show
ー Will try to rob me again Naruto
He said suspiciously but soon after yawned his eyes slowly closed I scratched my head
ー Not this time… .I mean I'll pay myself Naruto Uzumaki I'll pay
I said hurriedly I handed him the money anyway he still looked at me suspiciously not believing in a word my look at him was judging me looking into my soul
ー HMM ... you didn't steal it from anyone is it
I looked at you offended
ー OF COURSE NO! I managed with my own money I… .. am selling flowers
I showed him the flowers with a proud look they were fascinated with them I was feeling so good that everything in me screamed "you are too convinced for someone who won 10 silvers"
ー Didn't know you grew flowers
I don't cultivate!
ー I will change of life
Said firmly
ー As long as you stop stealing my cookies I don't care little thief
ー I have a name Shikamaru
He just looked at me and gave a lazy smile I gave a smile too I left that tent and left as quickly as possible pretending dementia listening to Shikamaru's laugh behind this Shikamaru invents everything
Somewhere else
Gaara POV
Another day in this huge castle alone with my beautiful garden one of the only things that doesn't keep me lonely in this scum of life I let out loud sighs staring at the wall in disbelief how long it will last how long
I hear the door slam that made my thoughts change a little bit. Who is it that I hurry up sitting on the bed looking for my mask?
ー Master you should have been getting up ...
I sighed loud relief stamped across my entire being my right arm and the only person besides me who lives in that stupid castle came through the door with a coffee tray in addition to my cook's right arm and basically mine does everything I feel that without him I would go to freak out
Lee Rock Lee you don't need so much formality is your day off you shouldn't be doing anything but fun like I don't know dating you are young
ー The 70 year old man talks more fun than cooking is helping you in your impossible Giardino
ー Lee formality the formality reminds
He gives a small laugh Lee always manages to get laughs and smiles from me
ー yes yes you don't think you should go out a bit but Gaara meeting new people a boy or girl who knows
ー Who would want to know me or my father wants to see me my brothers for them I hardly exist because I have to be so horrendous
I said throwing myself on the bed again running my hands over the marks on my face
ー You have to stop calling yourself that not everyone cares about how you look, besides that you are very beautiful I'm sure you just didn't find the right person and your brothers love you I know NOW go take a shower to eat for the love o sunny day perfect for farming don't you think
He put the tray on top of the table, which was always full of books about flowers. I loved creating flowers and taking care of them. My mother liked it. I felt sorry for not having met him. Lee left quickly. I was already preparing for monotonous days. to the bathroom
Somewhere else
POV Author
The young Uzumaki sold "his" flowers surprisingly they made successes who saw fell in love with his old "friend" Sakura Haruno appeared all euphoric as always a woman from high society nor was it known why loads of water she was in that peaceful village
ㅡ NARUTO UZUMAKI WHO YOU STOLE THIS TIME
she said already giving him slaps and sermons as always
ㅡ AINN Sakura-Chan how long I thought until you had already fled this city
I teased her, she rolled her eyes and gave me another shit making me bewildered it hurt so much it looks like I'm going to pass out sure there will be a cock
ㅡ SHUT UP THE MOUTH BAKA You know why I'm here I need to see my lady
She smiled smugly but with a look of malice I wanted to laugh but I am respectful
ㅡ first stop screaming the scandalous it's me second came to see Hinata again
her look fell I gave a look of I KNOW YOU
ㅡ Know that the Hyuuga are enemies of the Haruno
ㅡ nonsense nobody will stop our love now give me one of these wonderful flowers
I gave her the rest of the flowers with rest I say a flower she gave me the money and I quickly denied it
ㅡ Go right before I change my mind I don't deny money
She ran quickly with the flower she knows me well the flower in her hand she swayed with the speed of her steps more obvious without first giving me another punch mommy I just don't fight with her because I don't want to be beaten to death
Watching the sunset I didn't know where I was going the streets are still busy as if the joy of the city really started I could just go away and wait one day I had money for at least tomorrow but I followed the forest when I entered it all it looked so scary but also so comforting in a short time unlike yesterday the moon was bright i didn't know where i was going i was going back to that place to that garden for that man AI Naruto your idiot is going crazy
Upon seeing the castle even with the huge trees I could clearly see flashing flames and attractive drugs
I tried school again the walls were easier than the last time when I jumped I could see those beauties this beautiful Giardino I approached without wanting to steal know how much closer I saw a body A BODY was the red-haired man I got closer her every time but my heart was beating the more I got close until I saw him sleeping he was so serene in the middle of several sunflowers
ㅡ Who are you… ..
I ran my hand over his face my fingers were delighted by his lines his shadow on his face his little dots the man opened his eyes eyes sea green beautiful as the owner grandma tell you he looked bewildered but when he noticed our approach he quickly got up and walked away
ㅡ Who are you…. why are you here
#narugaa#gaalee#hinasaku#sakuhina#naruto#The Truth Untold#shikatema#sasunaru#narusasu#imagine#yaoi#yuri#naruto shippuden
8 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
1990stargazer-blog
I Know Places We Can Hide
yeahdude
yeah, dude.
rapmonsphere
Sprechgesangsbestie
loveanime1994
Untitled
kenyaalaya-blog-blog
Don't say you're sorry every time you lie♥