#if so: shh its golden hour alright | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ladydimitrescuspet · 3 years

Text

Safe With Me

ao3 link! anon sentence prompt request: "ready or not, here I come." angst to fluff, very emotional. sorry for any grammatical errors! I was given a 2000 word limit or less and I went almost 200 over but enjoy and tell me what you think!

***

Hiding for your Mistress and her daughters was one thing but hiding from a hunter who had entered the castle undetected was another. Alcina and her daughters weren’t home, they were down in the village. Alcina’s daughters didn’t need to go with her, but they managed to convince her to let them tag along.

You had been getting ready to walk downstairs when you saw the hunter walk out of the room that led to the courtyard. Another thing you hated was that there was no staff today so you were all alone with the hunter. Your breath had caught in in your throat as you slowly backed up so he wouldn’t hear your footsteps but you weren’t paying attention and you hit one of the marble busts in the hallway, its banging up against the wall catching the hunter’s attention.

“Who’s in here?!” The hunter shouted out. Your eyes widened and your heart started beating even faster as you heard him coming towards the stairs. You looked around for somewhere to hide, but your legs felt like they couldn’t move. The hunter quickly ascended the stairs and laid eyes on you. “Now, what’s a pretty thing like you doing in this big castle all by your lonesome?” He asked with a creepy smile.

You let out an ear-piercing scream before you felt your legs finally work as you ran down the hallway towards Alcina’s chambers. You quickly entered the room and shut the door, locking it so he wouldn’t come in and hid under the bed. It didn’t take him long to realise where you had gone when he checked the door handle to find the door locked. You flinched as you heard the bullets hitting the handle, holding your breath when you heard the door creak open.

“I know you’re in here, sweetheart. I won’t hurt you.” The hunter said. You wish you could scream out Alcina’s name and that she’d come running to save you, but you knew she wouldn’t be able to hear you. “Come on now, I can help you.” He said as he stopped by the bed. You saw him start to crouch down and made your way to the other side of the bed. “There you are.” He grinned at you and you kicked him in the face scrambling from under the bed.

“Stay away from me!” You yelled over your shoulder as you dashed from the room.

“You little bitch! Get back here!” He screamed as he held his hand over his eye.

You didn’t stop running until you got to the hallway that had Alcina’s study and the library on it. Quickly deciding to hide in the library since it was bigger than Alcina’s study, you barricaded the door with a chair and a shelf that took a bit of work to move.

Your chest was heaving as you let out heavy breaths. You saw the handle to the library door jiggle and a small chuckle escape the hunter’s lips. “So you’re in here, are you?” He asked, his voice muffled. “Well, ready or not, here I come.” He grunted out as his rammed his shoulder into the doors to get them to open.

You shook your head as tears streamed down your face. Yes, the library was huge, but there were no good hiding places. But you headed up the left side of the stairs anyway just to put some distance between you two, a decision you made a second too late when the hunter came barrelling into the library, spotting you immediately.

“Aw, don’t run from me anymore, sweetheart, you’re starting to hurt my feelings.” He said as he cocked the gun and aimed it for you. You ducked when the first shot rang out, running up the rest of the stairs and hiding in between the bookcases as best as you could. The spot was cramped but you hoped that he wouldn’t find you here. Your heart thudded with every footstep he took up the stairs to the second floor. “Now, where could you be up here?” He asked as he looked through the rows of books. You thought it was strange when he started walking down the aisle you went down, like he could smell where you were hiding. The thought made your eyes widen and you pushed yourself back further into the space trying to get to the other aisle just as someone grabbed your arm.

“Let go of me!” You screamed at him, kicking him again but in his leg this time as you dashed down the aisle. He met you at the end of it. You pushed him out of your way, trying to get back down the stairs.

“Not on my watch sweetheart. You either die right here or I take you back down the village to be mine. What’s it gonna be?” He asked.

You grimaced. “Neither.” You replied. He kept walking towards you and you backed up until your back hit the balcony rail. “Take one more step towards me and I’ll jump.” You threatened. He smirked at you as if daring you to do so as he took one more step. To his surprise, you did jump from the balcony and to your surprise, you landed on one of comfy couches that was in the library.

“You stupid bitch!” He growled out as he headed back down the stairs. You quickly got up from the couch to make your way to the door, but somehow, he got there before you, blocking your only escape route. Was the door opened that wide when he came in? You shook the question from your mind. “Not so fast. I asked you a question and you gave me your answer so by default I’m gonna carve you up real nice for the Lady to come home to. Such a shame that I have to do something to such a pretty face.”

You shook your head at him, your hands coming up defensively as you back away from him. “Pl-please. I don-” Your words were cut off as you tripped over the rug where it had come up slightly. “I’ll, I’ll go with you. I just, please, don’t kill me.” You pleaded with him as he cocked his gun again.

“Too late for that. Any last words?” He replied.

You felt the tears streaming down your face. You whispered four words to yours before closing your eyes. “I love you, Alcina.” You waited for the shot to ring out and you heard two, but you heard something shatter and a squishing noise. You slowly opened one eye to find the man who had just threatened to end your life being impaled by your Mistress’ claws, gurgling blood in his mouth. “Alcina?”

Alcina led the body slide off her claws and signalled for her daughters to take the body from the room. “Are you alright, iubirea mea?” Alcina asked as she crouched down. You stared at her and nodded your head slightly. You saw her nostrils flare as she sniffed the air and looked down at your leg. “Oh, sweet thing, you’re hurt.”

You looked down to where her gaze was trained and saw the blood oozing out of your leg. You suddenly felt lightheaded. “Al...” It was all you could say before you felt yourself about to pass out.

“No, dear, stay awake for me.” She said as she picked you up carefully, carrying you over to the couch and placing you down before put your leg over hers. You weakly nodded your head as you heard the sound of buzzing. “Girls, get something to warm her up and get the first aid kit. Go down to village and get the doctor, wake her up if you have to, just get her here quickly.” She commanded. You heard the chorus of “Yes, Mother” before they flew away again.

“Ina?” You said. She hummed. “Ho- how did yo-”

Alcina cut you off. “I could smell his blood as you as I entered the gates. I got here as quickly as I possibly could.” You heard her sniffle. “This will hurt, but I must put pressure on the wound.” You let out a strangled scream as she pressed on the wound to minimize the bleeding. “Shh, shh, sweet one, it’ll all be alright.” She said to you softly. “Where the hell are they?” She growled to herself.

You heard a soft buzzing come into the room. “The first aid kit, Mother. Daniela and Cassandra went to fetch the doctor.” Bela said. “Will she be alright?” Bela asked as she helped her Mother dress your wound until the doctor got here.

“I’m not sure, my dear. Did you bring a blanket?” Bela nodded her head and handed them to her Mother. “There, my sweet, these’ll keep you warm until the doctor arrives. You’ve gotten dreadfully cold in such a short matter of time.”

You could barely move so you just let out a small noise so that they would know you were still with them. It felt like hours had passed until Alcina was welcoming the doctor into the room to look at you.

“Well, Y/N, will need surgery to remove the bullet.” The doctor said. You heard Alcina protesting, not wanting you out of her sight. “It would be unsanitary for me to do it here, Lady Dimitrescu.” You could hear Alcina growl something out to the doctor in Romanian. “If this wound gets infected, My Lady, then this one’s on you. Prep her for me.”

Alcina made sure the table in the library was thoroughly sanitised before placing you on it. “The doctor’s going to get the bullet out, and then I’ll take care of the wound afterwards.” She pressed a kiss to your forehead before whispering something to one of her daughters.

When you came to you could feel Alcina’s honey golden eyes staring at you as she sat by you. “You passed out from the potion, draga mea. You’ve been asleep for a few days.” She said to you softly, her head coming up to your forehead. “You’ve a small fever. But the doctor was able to get the bullet out during the surgery. However, though the potion did heal up your leg from any infections that you may or may not have gotten, the doctor wants you to stay off your leg as much as possible.” Alcina explains.

“Oh.” Was all you could say at the time.

“Try to go back to sleep, sweet one. After such an event, you need the rest.” You shook your head. You didn’t want to sleep, the fear of dreaming about what happened creeping up on you. “My dear, I can’t stay with you. I have some work to do so it’s either stay here or go to the library.”

Your eyes widened at the thought of being in the library. “Please don’t leave me.” You whispered to her. You didn’t realise you were crying until she was wiping the tears away with her thumbs. “Please.”

Alcina pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I won’t, I won’t, I’m right here.” She whispered. “If you wish to read, we can go to the library and I can work from there.” You nodded your head hesitantly before Alcina picked you up and headed to the library. She sat you down outside the door of the library. “Go on inside, I’ll be right there in a moment.” She said before disappearing into her study.

You didn’t move as you stared at the closed door. You couldn’t bring yourself to place your hand on the handle and open the door. “I can’t,” You said to yourself. “No! No! No! Stop it, please!” You yelled out.

Alcina rushed to your side. “Darling, what is it?” She asked, concern lacing her voice.

“He’s in there, Ina. He, he, I can’t. Please.” Your voice cracked as you pushed yourself into Alcina’s body. Your tears soaking her dress.

“Okay, okay. We won’t go in the library.” She ran her hand down your back before guiding you into her study. “How foolish of me to think that you’d want to go in there, especially by yourself. I’m sorry, sweet thing.” Alcina said, chastising herself.

“Please don’t leave me alone.” You said looking up at her from your position on her lap.

Alcina shook her head. “No, my darling, I won’t. I won’t ever leave you alone.” She pressed a kiss to your lips and you melted into it. “Never again.” She said against your lips before she pulled away and pressed one to your forehead. You pressed yourself deeper into her chest, just wanting to be as close to her as possible. She wrapped her arms around you. “I promise that you’ll always be safe with me, sweet one. Always.” You hummed into her chest at her promise. You knew she’d keep her word to you, in every way she could.

#lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #resident evil #resident evil village #resident evil 8

316 notes · View notes

babyybitchhh · 3 years

Text

Ogun x Reader 18+

Rating: Explicit/R-18+

Words: 8,375

Warnings: established relationship, cunnilingus, brief mention of breeding/pregnancy implication, piv sex, creampie

A/N: I really did not think I'd finish this and yet, months later, here we are. I said I wanted to do Ogun's hair for him so that is exactly what I did. 😤 A LOT of research went into the first half of this fic, I can't even tell you how many braiding videos I watched or how many haircare blurbs I read through, so if my ignorance shows I really do apologize. I can barely do my own hair let alone someone else's and I put in a lot leg work for about 5 paragraphs of relevant information. lol Best boy deserves it though, so please enjoy!

♥♥♥♥

The quiet drone of the TV against the far wall was the only source of noise in the small apartment and neither of you were paying any attention to it. Hadn’t been for the last few hours, but that was how most wash days went. The background chatter was superfluous at best when you had all of your attention zeroed in on your boyfriend's hair and Ogun was pleasantly dozing at your feet, lost in his own little world of pampered bliss.

It did, however, serve its purpose in helping you better keep track of the time. If left to your own thoughts, you would have all too easily slipped into the same comfortable lull as him and forgotten about everything else you had to do. Like think about food, for example.

Briefly glancing up at the sound of cheesy sitcom music, you mentally check off another half hour. It was starting to get late which meant he’d probably be starving by the time you were done and that wouldn’t exactly come as a surprise given you’d been at this for the better part of the day. All that hard earned muscle mass of his certainly wasn’t going to maintain itself.

And, now that you were thinking about it, you were starting to notice the creeping pang of hunger in the back of your mind, buzzing faintly like an incessant afterthought.

Drawing a breath, you start to ask if he’s in the mood for anything in particular but Ogun manages to beat you to it.

“What should we do for dinner?”

You smile to yourself, fingers deftly moving through his hair with practiced ease -- under, scoop, under, repeat -- while you give that question some thought. Surely there was something you could whip up with what you had on hand in the kitchen. The real question, however, was what.

Doing a quick mental checklist of your cupboards, you rapidly narrow down your options. A fast and easy pasta dish was out of the question without the sauce or any ingredients to make it with. No meat for hamburgers. There was still some salad mix in the fridge but he needed something far more substantial than that. Damn. You should probably go shopping soon.

“Hmm,” Gently tilting Ogun’s head forward, you pick back up on the half finished braid you were working on. He was almost done, with only two rows left to go. The argan oil and shea products you’d put in his hair left your fingertips feeling buttery smooth and soft, their lingering smell as warm as it was soothing. It permeated the air in the living room, enclosing you both in your own little bubble for two and making for an altogether pleasantly relaxing Sunday afternoon.

“Let’s see …” You murmur at length. “I could probably make a stir fry with some vegetables and shrimp. How’s that sound?”

“As much as I love your cooking,” He shifts on the floor and glances over his shoulder, forcing you to pause what your fingers are doing. “I was thinking we could order in tonight. My treat.”

Your smile grows even when you try to ignore the unmistakable flutter in your chest. “Oh? And what’s the occasion?”

“There isn’t one.” His mouth curls up, mirroring yours. “But if you need an excuse, consider it thanks for doing my hair.”

“That’s sweet of you, but I’m not finished yet.” Placing a hand atop his head, you pointedly turn him around straight again and Ogun laughs, very softly, when you release him so you can get back to work.

You enjoyed getting to do this for him and the fact you liked playing with his hair was no secret either. It was wild and thick, very close to being untamable, but it was also incredibly healthy -- something you would have all too happily taken credit for if it hadn’t been in the same enviable condition as when you’d first met him. That he trusted you enough to let you do this was, perhaps, more intimate than anything else you’d ever done together, and with a few more twists you put the finishing touches on the braid.

Letting it hang next to the others, you direct him to lean back so that you can easily reach the front of his hairline again. He acquiesces without a fuss and sinks into the couch, letting the back of his head settle comfortably in your lap. Ogun’s shoulders brush your knees when you hunch closer with a pink rat tail comb in hand and you’re acutely aware of him watching you as you begin sectioning out the next row. You start to smile again, even though you try not to.

“What?”

“I’m still waiting on an answer.”

You shoot him a quick look.

Golden eyes gleam back at you, reflecting endearment and humor alike, and you quickly focus in on his blown out, fluffy hair again before he can successfully distract you. “I don’t know. You pick.”

“Nope.” He hums goodnaturedly. “That’s not how this works. You can’t just push it back on me when I asked you for a reason. Tell me what you want.”

“I really don’t know - hey!” You squawk when he gives the back of your calf a sharp pinch in retaliation for being so uncooperative and you squirm, giggling. “Don’t do that! I’m honestly not sure what I’m in the mood for.”

“Then think about it.”

“I am.” You intone, gently pushing Ogun’s head forward just enough to get at the crown of his head. Relative silence claims the room once more while you consider an almost endless list of potential choices and finish up the second to last braid. Thankfully without any more pinching attacks on his end. He was going to look so nice when you were done.

“What about a pizza?” You suggest at last.

“I’m game.” He murmurs, slouching to the side so he can rest his temple against the plush cushion of your leg. It gives you the perfect angle to attack the final strip from and you get to work weaving coarse strands into his preferred fashion, your fingers moving quickly but efficiently. You’d practiced tirelessly just to ensure he wouldn’t have to go to someone else for this without skimping on the finished product's quality and it certainly showed.

A few moments later, the task is complete.

Grabbing an elastic band, you gather Ogun’s styled hair into a neat little ponytail and tie it off at the back of his head. You finish up by running your fingertips across one shaved side of his scalp, affectionately feeling out the new growth before deciding he can go another week or two until you have to bring out the clippers again.

“Alright. You’re all done.”

Lifting a hand to feel over his hair, he twists around and peers up at you with an expectant grin. “How do I look?”

“Like the most handsome man in the world.”

Ogun positively beams. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Leaning close, you press a brief kiss to his smiling mouth. “What sort of pizza do you --”

He cuts you off when he suddenly pushes up on his knees and catches your lips again.

Your eyes go big when broad hands find the meat of your thighs and gently squeeze them while he kisses you much more impassionedly than you’d kissed him. A sound of surprise rises in the back of your throat but he quickly swallows it, making your heart race.

Heaving a quiet sigh through your nose, you lean into the gesture and meet him halfway, eagerly kissing him back.

Grinning knowingly, Ogun tilts his head and slots his mouth more securely over yours to deepen the exchange. You find yourself slowly melting against him and you bring your hands up to grab onto his shoulders. God, he was unfairly good at this. Not that you were complaining, but a polite segue from one topic to the next would have been appreciated. You’d been thinking about dinner, what sort of toppings you wanted on your pizza, and now you were thinking about …

You groan, very softly, when his palms drag up along your sides, bunching the cotton of your t-shirt in the process. It allows for the briefest skin on skin contact and an eruption of goosebumps spreads across your body, as anticipatory as they were impatient.

Lips parting, you grant him access and Ogun jumps at the chance, eagerly sweeping his tongue into your mouth to lav yours with warm, wet attention. The smooth, flickering strokes he graces your palette with inspires a flood of molten heat in your gut that leaves you wanting more. Always more. It was never enough where he was concerned - and you slide one of your hands higher still to tenderly cradle the curve of his skull.

Much to your whining disappointment, however, he pulls back a moment later to give you some space and you whimper at the loss.

“Ogun …”

“Shh. I’m right here, baby.” He whispers, leaning back in to press a quick peck to your lips before doing the same to the corner of your mouth.

It’s not enough to pacify you though and you loop both arms around his neck, trying to pull him back in again. He obliges with an affectionate nuzzle, pressing close to settle against your lap and pin you to the back of the couch under his sturdy weight.

“What's wrong, sweetheart?”

You pull your mouth in an imploring pout. “I’d like for you to finish what you started.”

He laughs, sweet and boyish as he pulls back to fix you with a big grin. “Oh? And have I ever left you wanting?”

“No, but I’d hate for you to start now.” You sound a little whiny. Needy.

Another quiet laugh and Ogun comes in to kiss you again, much more sedately this time. His soft lips mold seamlessly to yours, working against your mouth at just the right speed, with the right amount of pressure to steal the air from your lungs.

You let loose a soft moan as you arch underneath him and push your chests together, basking in the fleeting contact despite how unsatisfying it is. What you really want is to have his body working over yours without the impediment of bothersome clothes in the way. To feel the chorded steel muscle he’d worked so hard to build flexing and driving into you.

A shudder ripples through you when the thrumming desire that wells inside slithers out from between your legs to ignite the rest of your body in heated flame. An all powerful compulsion which you wouldn’t have fought even if you could.

His mouth still working in tandem with yours, Ogun gives your waist a possessive squeeze and it sends a fresh wave of sharp arousal racing down your spine. You whimper, pushing up into him a little harder, more fervently, as you clutch at his shoulders. The need to have him laid out on top of you has taken over your higher functioning mind, all thoughts of pizza long gone out the window as the velvety push and pull of his mouth draws you further under his spell.

Willingly, you surrender to the exigent summons and curl your legs up around his narrow hips to tug him even closer, urging him into action.

A hot puff of air fans across your face when he abruptly disengages from the kiss, moving to press his lips against the apple of your cheek, your jaw. There’s a noticeable haste in his actions now and you turn your head to give him better access, exposing the vulnerable line of your throat to his seeking mouth.

Ogun wastes no time and immediately swoops in, pecking his way down the column of your neck with an occasional love bite here or there for good measure. Each one seemed to make your toes curl that much tighter to the point where you could hardly stand it anymore.

“You play dirty …” You mumble, lightly running your nails across his nape.

“Mm, how so?” He sounds distracted and preoccupied, too busy mouthing at your pulse to pay it any mind.

“You told me to decide on dinner …” You trail off when he latches onto the juncture of your neck and shoulder, immediately succumbing to the tantalizing suction Ogun applies with his lips. You let out a soft, faltering groan, brows furrowing in pleasure when it makes the simmering heat in your gut double and then triple as teeth sink into delicate skin.

Shuddering, you deliberately wrack your brain in an attempt to finish your train of thought but that proves much more of a struggle than you’d been prepared for.

“But … nngh, but now all I want is you …”

He comes up at your somewhat dreamy admittance, a mischievous look camping out on his face even as big hands push at the hem of your shirt. “Oh yeah? Anything you want in particular, sweetheart?”

Lifting your gaze, you peer up at Ogun from just a scant few inches away. The shallow rise and fall of your chest has no doubt clued him in that he’s got you all worked up now but you aren’t exactly trying to hide it. He already knew just how weak you were for him, knew precisely how well your body always responded to his advances, so there really wasn’t any point in pretending otherwise.

You were powerless against his undeniable charm and he seemed to get just as much enjoyment out of that as you did. And looking at him now you think, not for the first time, that you just might be the luckiest girl in the world.

“Let’s start with that talented mouth.” You murmur, reaching out to take his smooth jaw in hand and pull him, grinning, into another kiss.

Noising quietly against your mouth, he leans further into you until it feels like you’re being pleasantly crushed under the hard, muscular weight of his frame. It only serves to get you even more riled up, now well and truly desperate to feel his bare skin flush against yours as you roll your hips forward and drag your clenching pussy across the front of his pants.

Lips parting on a heady groan, he returns the favor by slowly thrusting his pelvis forward so you can feel the stiff outline of his cock caressing your clothed slit. You keen at the sensation and cant your hips into the pressure, the two of you gradually picking up a steady, unhurried rhythm together that damn near drives you wild.

Hands staying busy while he sedately humps you, Ogun patiently works your shirt up higher and higher until it’s bunched under your armpits. Reaching around for the clasp of your bra, he gives it one good tug and the satiny soft material loosens around your shoulders with a near silent slither. Bringing his hands to the front again, he shoves the cups up out of the way before letting them descend on soft, pliant breasts that seem to fit just right in the curve of his worn palms. Giving them both a gentle squeeze, he kneads your chest until you groan and tip your head back, breaking apart from the kiss in favor of sighing up at the ceiling.

He takes that opportunity to dip his face close and press an open mouthed kiss to the center of your sternum while he carefully squeezes your tits in a pinching grip. It makes you shudder, wishing you could clench your thighs and ease the growing ache there, but that’s impossible when he’s slotted between them like this. You have no choice but to endure the thrumming tension and you squirm underneath him, needily bucking up to meet the next thrust of his hips with a frustrated little groan.

“Ogun,” You gasp, letting your fingers scrabble to grab hold of his black t-shirt and tug on it. “I need you. Now.”

Bringing his head up, Ogun allows himself a moment to drink in the wanton expression on your face while he cups his hands around your breasts almost reverently. “How do you need me, baby?” He mumbles, letting his thumbs brush over your stiff nipples in a feather light caress. “What do you need?”

“Your mouth …” You whine, practically choking on it.

“Where do you need my mouth, huh? Tell me.”

“On my pussy.” It’s more a plea than a statement and you shake for him even as the words leave your mouth.

Ogun shifts against you and bends down, mouth opening wide over the pebbled peak of your breast. You watch on, mesmerized, when the pink of his tongue darts out to lap at the fleshy bud before sealing his lips around it and suckling. Your eyes slip shut as you arch, pushing your chest up to meet him while your fingers cling to the cotton of his shirt. Ogun doesn’t linger long though and he soon comes up off the first with a dull pop before catching your other nipple between his lips.

Briefly worrying it, he slides his hand forward to tweak the spit lathered bud between thumb and forefinger, making you outright seethe. You give up on getting his top off with an impatient little huff and bring your hands down to grasp at his arms instead. The firm, wiry muscle under his skin offers little give no matter how hard you squeeze or dig your nails in, and he remains ever unperturbed, casually sucking the tip of your breast to stiff, throbbing attention.

“Please, Ogun …”

With a faint hum, he comes up off your chest and presses a quick peck to the puckered nipple. “I know, baby. I know.” Moving back to the first nipple, he kisses that one too. “Just be patient, alright? You know you don’t have to beg me to go down on you …”

You groan at the velvety suggestion and tuck your chin down to pin him with an imploring look. Ogun offers you a lopsided grin in return, pinching both your nipples between his fingers and carefully tweaking the sensitive flesh until you outright gasp. You feel like you��re running on autopilot now as you reach up to sandwich his face between your palms and pull him into yet another kiss, lips crashing together with an intensity that makes your pussy flutter.

His mouth parts against yours, opening wide as if to swallow you whole, and all the while he keeps plucking at your tits until they’re aching almost as much as your neglected cunt. You couldn’t take it anymore ...

Tightening your legs around Ogun’s waist, you dig your heels into the small of his back and draw him right up against you so you can feel the hard weight of his cock digging into the spot where you need him most. A frazzled, high strung wail claws its way up the back of your throat as you jut your pelvis up and rub yourself against that thick, pulsing heat in search of some relief but very little is forthcoming like this.

He pulls back at the sudden friction thoufg and issues a faltering groan that seems to echo off the walls for as quiet as it is. “Shit … you really want it that bad, baby?”

“It’s your fault …”

“I know, I know.” Bending close, Ogun presses a hard peck to the center of your chest. “And I’ll take responsibility for that, don’t you worry.”

Lower he trails, slowly kissing his way down your fluttering stomach as his hands come around to unbutton your shorts. The zipper quickly follows suit and then he’s tugging them down your thighs while you eagerly twist to help get you undressed just that much quicker.

Thoughtlessly tossing them aside, Ogun reaches for your panties next but he’s much more subdued in removing these. One torturous fraction at a time, he carefully pries the thin cotton away until they’re low enough to expose your puffy slit to the air. He lets out an appreciative noise of approval when he sees the sticky mess you’ve made along the seam and your heart pounds in your ears as you draw your legs up so he can slip the dainty cotton the rest of the way off.

He discards them somewhere on the floor, probably right alongside your shorts, before palming your bent knees. Gently, Ogun eases them apart so he can peer down at your sticky cunt with an unconcealed expression of hunger.

“Look at you, baby. Just look at this pretty pussy, already so wet for me.”

Smoothing big hands up along your bare thighs, he bends close and presses his mouth to the apex of your mound in a surprisingly chaste but hungry kiss. Digging your fingers into the couch cushions, you enticingly wiggle your hips at him and gold eyes flash at you from between your legs, amusement and something much more dark shining within them.

You feel his lips eagerly curl against you then, and he shuffles closer to the couch so that he’s hunched directly over your prone body. Hooking long fingers under one of your legs, he hauls it up and over his shoulder before repeating the process on the other side. Grabbing big, grasping handfuls of your hips, he uses his hold on you to drag your lower body just to the edge of the seat, making you squeak at suddenly finding yourself completely vulnerable and laid bare. Your pussy clenches tight in anticipation though and you tremble, drawing a steadying breath when he pecks at the soft swell of your inner thigh, warm breath puffing against your skin.

There was no denying that he had you completely at his mercy like this and you would have been lying through your teeth if you said that didn’t excite you.

“Comfortable?”

At your nod, Ogun leans forward just enough to bend your legs towards your chest and fold you against the top of the couch. He settles on his knees and dips his head down, mouth parting so his tongue can take a quick swipe from the bottom of your gushing cunt up to the top. The sight of it has you groaning for him, your vision swimming as you force yourself to keep watching.

That proves exceedingly difficult when he presses in close, making the meat of your pussy lips squish and mold against his face. Slowly kissing at you to work them open with his mouth, he flicks his attention up to regard your face and you practically vibrate on the cushions. Another swipe of his tongue hits its mark, wetly knocking your clit, and you let loose a seething mewl.

“O - ohh! Yeah …”

Ogun’s fingers dig into your twitching hips to keep them spread while he takes his time slowly swirling around that sensitive pleasure button. He starts at a wide breadth and then gradually works his tongue in tighter and tighter circles until he’s finally grinding it into oblivion. The soft, gooey friction of his mouth is enough to have you wheezing in pleasure as sweat beads, unnoticed, along your lower back and you arch, making your tits jiggle with the motion.

“Right there … don’t stop!”

Issuing a low sound of agreement, Ogun opens his jaw wider and drags his tongue straight up through your slick, juicy folds. You can feel every little thing - every nerve ending and every meaty bit of flesh that tries to cling to the textured muscle and your legs jerk at the sensation.

Tossing your head back against the couch, you blindly reach down to grasp his knuckles in a death grip. “Ah, haah … feels good ...”

In lieu of a proper response, he tilts his head and attacks your thrumming clit from a different angle. He’s relentless, mercilessly battering that delicate little pearl back and forth with such fervor that it leaves you quaking under his attention, struggling just to breathe. You’re not sure how much more of this you can stand, the threat of tipping over the edge before you can even fully enjoy it looking like a very real possibility now, but then Ogun seals his mouth around the fleshy nub and sucks.

Hard.

“Oh!” You choke on a haggard, stuttering gasp of pleasure, lurching underneath him.

Confidently humming, he comes up off you with a dull pop and a sticky breath of air. “Looks like you’re already getting close.” Ogun murmurs, sounding really quite smug about that.

Never one to leave you hanging though, he crowds one of his hands between your legs and presses blunt fingers into your slit. Finding your throbbing clit again, Ogun starts to rub it in fast strokes made smooth by the viscous mix of saliva and arousal that absolutely coats your pussy and this time you practically shriek.

“Yes! Yes, I’m getting close! … nngghh … please, please, pleeease! Ogun, please!”

But he refuses to let up on your poor little cunt just yet. “Please what, baby?”

You twist, thighs flexing and going ramrod stiff around his head. Your vision was starting to blur around the edges, reflexive tears pricking at your eyes. It’s hard just to think straight let alone form a semi coherent sentence when he’s relentlessly rubbing your clit with roughly calloused fingertips like that, the friction almost too much to bear and quickly riding the line of overstimulation. You couldn’t handle much more of it.

“Pl - please put your dick in me! Please! I wanna’ come on your cock, Ogun! I’m buh - aaah - ah! - begging!”

A low, rumbling groan rises up in his chest but, still, he doesn’t stop. “I thought you wanted to come on my mouth?”

“I - I changed my mind!”

He grunts, deep and primal in his acknowledgement, and the sound races straight to your throbbing cunt.

You respond with a broken groan, only to nearly come right up off the couch when he withdraws his fingers and replaces them with his mouth. Supple lips part and work you open again so he can worm his tongue into the crease of your body. He delivers a series of taunting flicks to the straining bud hidden within, making you sensitively twitch, before dragging the flat of his tongue across it in broad, sweeping strokes. You could feel yourself tipping ever closer to the edge and, with a wheezing gasp, you reach down with both hands to cradle either side of his head.

You’re not sure if you want to push him away or draw him closer - as if that were even possible at this point.

“Oh - Ogun, wha - wait! Nngh … if you keep going - -“

Smacking his lips, he comes up just enough for you to hear him say “You’ll cum? Good.” Before diving back in.

The way he immediately opens his mouth wide and plunges his tongue into the satiny soft folds and creases of your cunt, teasing at your entrance, has you jolting as if you’ve been electrocuted. Gritting your teeth, you clutch him all the tighter while the building pressure inside you steadily inches towards blissful discomfort. Your heaving body was truly hanging in the balance now, entirely at his mercy (of which there seemed to be none) and your legs uselessly flex in the air when you squeeze them around his head. You could almost taste it in the back of your throat.

“Fuck! Right there …” you whine as you rock your pelvis against his mouth, the motion stiff and halting. “Right there, baby … I’m s - so - ooooh - close!”

Ogun grunts in approval and drags his tongue up to the top of your slit again, burying his face somehow even deeper into the cushiony give of your pussy. He glances at you, very briefly, from under the fall of dark lashes and the heady, masculine glint in those burnt gold irises sends a powerful shudder rippling down your spine. Your mouth drops open as if to scream but nothing comes out. For a worryingly long moment, it feels like you forgot how to breathe.

All you can do is watch on in thrumming suspense when he drops his gaze and gives his head a shake to jostle all the nerve endings in your cunt. The braids you’d worked on all day give a little bounce in their ponytail before settling again, and your eyes start to roll back when he flattens his tongue to your clit so he can grind down on it again. Static shoots through your system as you arch against him, so fitfully your back starts to ache in protest, but it was much too late. Nothing could stop it now, not even if you wanted to.

You suck in a haggard breath and the coil snaps, just like that. With an almost violent jerk, you devolve into a fit of convulsions that has you wailing up at the ceiling in total disregard for the upstairs neighbors. They probably heard you every time you and your boyfriend had sex but it’s not as if you could very well help it. Ogun was a talented individual by nature and that certainly transferred over into bedroom activities too.

Helpless, all you can do is cling to him through the full bodied tremors that shake you straight down to your core while he leisurely laps at your throbbing clit to ease you through it. He always seemed intent on milking your orgasms for all they were worth, and that certainly didn’t help your case with your neighbors either. It always felt like something of an out of body experience when he was the one going down on you and you couldn’t exactly say you disliked him for that.

The exact opposite, actually.

“Oh, god …”

With a stuttering groan, you slowly go limp as you come down from your high one piece of you at a time. It was hard to tell which jagged edges fit where, but you’re still acutely aware of the mess he’s made of your cunt when Ogun finally straightens and you feel a rush of fresh air hit your drenched slit. You shiver at the sensation and crack your eyes open to peer down at him, whimpering.

“You didn’t listen …”

Snorting a quiet laugh, he shifts against you and brings a hand up to swipe the glistening moisture from his mouth. “I only did what you initially asked for, sweetheart. That doesn’t mean I can’t give you the second request, too.”

Your lips curl in a warbling smile at that, and he grins right back.

Letting your head loll against the couch cushions, you contentedly watch as he brings your legs down off his shoulders so he can move to stand. Leaving you spread out and feeling like silly putty, he yanks his shirt over his head with one quick, fluid motion that makes his abdominals tantalizingly ripple before reaching for his pants next. He makes quick work of the button and then the fly, anticipation evident in his body language when he shoves them along with his underwear down to his feet.

Ogun’s thick cock bounces eagerly when he steps out of his discarded clothes, and the sight alone is enough to make your pussy clench tight. You still felt sensitive and over wrought, so fresh off the tail end of your orgasm, but that doesn’t stop you from moaning faintly at the sight of him.

You’d never known a more attractive man in all your life.

“Ogun …” You murmur, eyes slipping shut when your desire flares back at full force dizzyingly fast.

Your eyes immediately pop back open, however, when he slides his arms under your knees and leans forward to brace against the couch, folding you up like a pretzel. Your toes flex as you squirm underneath him, glancing down at your defenless little cunt with an excited squeak. Puffy lips can’t help but spread in this position and you easily catch sight of your swollen clit straining towards him in obvious need, not yet satisfied.

Hovering just a scant breath away, his straining cock - all silky smooth and heavy - twitches in anticipation, eager to sink into you. It doesn’t look like it's going to fit. It never does but, somehow or another, he always manages to squeeze every girthy inch of himself inside you and the thought alone has you throbbing in sharp, sporadic pulses.

It was almost embarrassing how fast you were bouncing back from the first round, but you can’t quite complain when you watch his hanging ballsack sway with the motion of getting himself situated and your pussy responds in kind with an intense pulse. He had the body of a breeder and you were sure he would’ve already had you heavy and round by now if only you weren’t on birth control. Maybe someday, though …

“Ogun …” You were starting to feel well and truly delirious now, and you reach up to dig your nails into his forearms for leverage to ground yourself with.

He doesn’t seem to mind it though, and he merely issues a soft grunt of acknowledgement as he rocks forward a bit to angle your defenseless pussy up at him more. You can feel yourself squeeze down and you groan, dazedly watching your own thighs flex in their bent up position but there was simply no way out of his hold now. The thought alone is enough to have you breathing out a stuttering puff of air, which you promptly choke on when he starts to lower his pelvis towards yours.

“Yes, yes, yes, please give it to me, I need it, I need it, please --”

You’re whining. You realize that on some level, but you’re much too consumed by this desperate hunger to have him rearranging your guts to care about that right now. It wouldn’t take Ogun long at all to have you creaming around him at this rate.

Unperturbed, he casually adjusts his position over top of you before swooping down to catch your babbling mouth in another heated kiss to silence you. The passionate force behind the gesture pushes your head back against the cushions and you relent, groaning into his lips as your hands fly up to offer his sides an encouraging squeeze.

Luxuriating under the strength of his body, you drag your palms up across his chest and higher still to grasp his shoulders. With a weak, halfhearted jut of your pelvis, you make a sad little attempt at angling your hips up enough to feel his leaking cockhead against your sticky cunt but it’s no use. He has you thoroughly pinned and at his mercy like this. His for the taking whenever he saw fit to skewer you on his sizable length and not a moment sooner.

It was too much.

You suddenly break from the kiss in favor of keening in soft desperation. He pulls back, stopping just long enough to regard you with that infuriatingly attractive, heavy lidded look before pointedly glancing between your bodies.

Slowly, you follow his lead only to swallow hard when his thighs flex forward and the underside of his cock skirts along your parted pussy lips. The crude way it bumps against your clit has you jolting at the sensation and clutching him all the more fervently. Your whole body positively shakes as Ogun shuffles his feet a little further apart and tries again, the bulbous glans slipping and sliding through petal soft folds once, twice - until it abruptly finds its mark on the third stroke.

Catching at your entrance, he pauses for a moment and then slowly starts to sink in. Your breath hitches, mouth opening on a silent scream as you watch the ruddy pink head slowly disappear into your body. The stretch is immediately felt, and it’s more than enough to make your greedy pussy flutter around the intrusion even as it gushes more sticky slick to ease the way.

But the more of him that slides into the gummy sleeve of your insides, the less good it does. He’s just too big - wider than he is long, yet still large enough to push your heaving body right to its limits. You hold your breath, head spinning, when he pushes further in and forces your squeezing passage to make room for him. More and more, until he’s about half of the way inside where he finally pauses to let you adjust.

You twitch, weakly writhing like a small animal caught in the merciless maw a steel trap. You were utterly powerless underneath him.

“Oh - Ogun! Fuck … fuck me - dear Sol, please just fuck me!”

He draws a slow, calming breath. “You’re still so tight, baby … I don’t want to hurt you.”

Whimpering, you reach between your legs and wrap trembling fingers around the base of him. Ogun moans after a few awkward pumps of your hand and tilts his face up at the ceiling, basking in the sensation of you jerking him while he’s half wedged inside your body.

It must feel good because it takes him a prolonged moment to get his bearings again and when he does, he carefully eases himself back just enough to give a tiny thrust forward. You can feel the moment he slips in a little deeper than before and you guide him into it, one sedate thrust at a time. When you stroke up, he pulls back and when you stroke down, he pushes into you. It’s a maddeningly cohesive rhythm that has you panting like a bitch in heat long before he finally slides home and you outright choke when the fronts of his thighs settle against the backs of yours a small eternity later.

“Shit,” He hisses, brows knitting as he peers down to admire the sight of his pelvis flush against yours. “That’s a tight fit … how’re you doing, sweetheart? It’s not too much, is it?”

You give your head a numb shake and roll your eyes up at him, teasing your fingertips through the mess of curls at the base of his groin while you do it. Words couldn’t even come close to describing how stuffed full you felt, but you loved it.

“N - no … it’s perfect … feels - ngh - good …”

Smiling, Ogun dips his face close to press his mouth to your forehead in a chastely sweet kiss. He stays like that as he carefully angles back until just the tip remains and then, so slowly you can feel it in your bones, he pushes back in. The drag is exquisite and it feels like you’re practically suffocating on the intense pleasure of every solid inch, each throbbing vein. You could feel it all.

A wordless cry of pleasure bursts out of you when he slides back out and in again at that same staggered pace. He’s so big you can feel the pressure on your cervix and when he wiggles his hips, grinding into you, oh god, it feels like he’s pushing the glans right on that raised ring of puckered flesh. Your mouth drops open but nothing comes out. It was hard just to keep your eyes focused anymore.

Haltingly, he starts up a gradual but steady pace as your body adjusts around the intrusion and makes room for him, your pulpy walls clinging to the length of him on each drawn out stroke. It comes as a great relief, particularly when the building pressure swells into high strung arousal and replaces the initial discomfort of being stretched right to the breaking point.

In a matter of moments, the sticky wet clicking that noises each time your pussy sucks him in deep on the downward thrust comes to dominate the living room. The sound of it only seems highlighted by your sensitive bleating and the husky groans slipping out of him, the drone of the tv so much an afterthought now that you forgot it was even on. Even when he picks up enough speed to drive the fronts of his thighs against your upturned ass, creating a sharp, fleshy slap, it’s nothing compared to the hungry slurping of your cunt.

You probably would’ve been embarrassed by the whole thing if only it didn’t feel like he was spearing you straight down the middle. It made your eyes cross, mouth hanging open in doped out bliss while you cling and clutch at him for dear life. There wasn’t a single inch of you that he didn’t touch like this and it lit up every nerve ending along the way like a goddamn firework.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think he was going to break you in half.

“Such a pretty baby. Look how well you’re taking my cock ....”

You gasp. “Hnng, s’so big …!”

“And you’re taking all of it,” he murmurs, just this side of breathless. “Like a champ. Do you have any idea how good you look right now? Huh?”

You warble out an incomprehensible response, far too overwhelmed and riveted by the way Ogun’s cock glistens obscenely every time it makes another appearance between your thighs. Your fingers dig into his forearms, leaving crescent shaped marks in his skin and try not to scream in ecstasy while he carves out a space within you.

You loved watching him fuck you like this for a multitude of reasons, the most pressing at the moment being that it drove you absolutely wild.

“If you keep squeezing me like that … ngh, I won’t last much longer.” He warns, his tone far too strained to hold even a hint of real reprimand.

“I want it,” you blubber wetly. “I want it, Ogun, please …”

“You want me to cum in you?”

A jerky nod accompanied by a mewling whimper.

He lets out a shaky breath as the speed of his thrusts quicken and you jerk underneath him, bleating like something wounded. The muscles in his arms flex and twitch around you when he smoothly adjusts the positioning of his hands, hunching further over you without so much as missing a beat.

“God, you drive me crazy …”

You’d like to tell him the feeling is mutual but you don’t get the chance. A particularly sharp snap of his hips knocks something loose inside you and you uncontrollably shake, legs kicking up uselessly at the air with a wordless noise of soaring pleasure. Cumming again doesn’t seem like such a far off possibility and a frazzled whine claws at the back of your throat when he presses his sweat slick forehead against yours, prompting you to glance up.

Ogun’s eyes were always beautiful to look at but especially so when you were staring into them from just a hair's breadth away and they were clouded dark with primal need as well something much more weighty.

“Tell me you want it, sweetheart. Tell me.”

“I - ngh - aaaahh, I want your cum, Ogun! I need you to fill me uh - up, please, I want it so baaad!”

A shudder races through him and he groans, eyes slipping shut for a brief moment as if to get his bearings before cracking open again. Keeping his forehead against yours, he tilts his head down to look between the two of you and, once again, you follow suit.

The sinfully rich color of his cock, just a shade or two darker than the rest of him, looks all the more tantalizing coated in your slick. You’ve all but drenched him at this point, the tight curls that frame his length visibly damp and matted together now. You suck in a frazzled breath at the sight, your head spinning alarmingly fast when the building pressure in your gut becomes almost too much to withstand. How was it that one single man could make you feel so primal with need but tenderly cared for at the same time?

“I - -“ You all but choke on it, wheezing at the next stroke. “I’m gonna’ - ahh, cum again … don’t stop!”

“I’m about to cum too, sweetheart.” With a soft groan, he lifts his attention to pin you with a heady look of challenge. “Think we can cum together?”

You frantically nod. “Uh huh!”

The corner of Ogun’s mouth twitches at that, settling into a lazy smirk as he shifts back and slows the motion of his hips. You can’t help groaning in disappointment but you realize what he’s doing quickly enough when he lets up his hold on your legs so he can lower himself down to lay out on top of you. Working his arms under your overheated back, he practically crushes you to the front of him and you bring your own up to wrap them around his neck.

This new position increases the pressure in your guts by a noticeable margin and the air rushes out of you with a stuttering sigh when he crawls up onto the edge of the couch to pin your thighs under his weight. Your legs are just as useless as before, twitching impotently in the air when he eases his hips back as far as he can. He doesn’t make it far, just enough to feel the drag and the subsequent plunge, but it makes you cry out all the same.

Face shoved into your hair, Ogun lets loose a series of heavy grunts when he picks up his earlier pace and the same sticky clicking rises in the air again. It’s much less deafening this time, softer by virtue of his shorter strokes, and you gratefully clutch him against you, glad to hold onto him.

“You feel so good …” he groans, making you shudder at the puff of hot air against your neck.

You can’t quite find your voice though, and you respond with a faltering moan that has him twitching inside you. The thick bands of musculature across his shoulders dance under your fingers each time he moves, emphasizing the raw strength in his lithe body. And yet he was still being careful with you, the plunge of his cock as carefully measured as before so as not to slam against your cervix but still tease it.

It wasn’t even that he was unreasonably large but, rather, he just so happened to fit you like a glove and that was perhaps the most arousing part of all.

“Ogun,” you finally manage to whimper. “Mm’ gonna’ cum …”

“Me too …”

The quietly stricken groan that comes out of him next makes your toes curl. You clench around him in a palpitating flutter, so close to the edge it brought the sting of tears to your eyes. His hips stutter at the squeeze and he trembles against you, struggling to keep up the subdued thrusting he’d settled into.

It quickly proves futile when his body tenses up with a low, faltering moan that rattles so deep you feel it in your cunt. The air catches in your throat and you squeeze him with your arms across his back and your legs around his narrow waist, clutching him to you as he lurches. Blunt fingers dig into your skin and he gives a little jerk, issuing a sucker punched wheeze seconds before you feel the rush of hot seed flooding your cunt.

You tremble wildly, nails clawing into his back when the sensation of Ogun shooting thick ropes against your gummy walls makes your muscles clamp around him hard enough to send you over the edge. Writhing in bliss, you stutter out a groan that he matches with one of his own while the two of you quake through your orgasms as one.

It was transcendental in a way you never would have thought possible.

Dropping his face to the couch cushions when you finally start to grow still underneath him some moments later, he issues a rumbling sound of satisfaction. The ragged quality of your panting quickly rushes in to replace the sticky wet squelching of your cunt, and you go boneless while you try to catch your breath. That was a lot easier said than done though and he, predictably, recovers much quicker than you.

“I’m surprised we really managed to pull that off.” He hums in contentment and turns his face to kiss at your ear, teasingly soft. “That’s a first.”

“And hopefully not the last.” You wheeze, making him chuckle.

“You liked it then, I take it?”

Dislodging your cramping fingers from his back with a certain amount of effort, you bring your hand up to push the hair from your face. “It was amazing … intense. I didn’t think we could do it either.”

Ogun lifts his head to press his mouth to your check, your nose, the spot between your eyes, all with a big smile on his face. “I’m glad we did. I promise I’ll try my best to make it happen again but no promises, okay?”

You can’t quite stop from giggling. ��Don’t worry. I have faith in you.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Pausing long enough to give your ribs an affectionate pinch, he carefully pushes up from the couch and leans back. His softened cock slips out of you in the process, and you internally wince at the dribble of hot cum that oozes from you without him there to stopper it.

You draw your legs up to keep the mess to a minimum when he stands, gleaming eyes taking in the sight of you curled up on your couch with his semen leaking down the crease of your pussy for a prolonged beat. And then, he grins.

“Wanna’ get cleaned up and I’ll order that pizza?”

“How am I supposed to think about food after all that?” You pout at him.

Sending a sly look down at the spot between your thighs, Ogun starts to turn towards the bathroom. “I’ll get you a rag. I’m sure you’ll realize just how hungry you are once the adrenaline wears off. Besides, you should probably refuel before I try to give you an encore.”

Smiling at that, you appreciatively glance down at his tight ass before he disappears through the doorway. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind he’d be able to pull it off.

#ogun montgomery #ogun x reader #fire force #self insert bullshit #enen no shouboutai #my writing

135 notes · View notes

hopinglimelight · 3 years

Text

Afterglow (C.B)

A/N: There are many definitions for the word “Afterglow” but the one I used was “good feelings remaining after a pleasurable or successful experience.” Yes this is based on the Ed Sheeran Song. Bold sentences are song lyrics and italics are flashbacks/ memories. Please enjoy :D

A/N 2: just an fyi this is my first time writing in third person like this so tell me what you think about it please and thank you (:

Allison looked herself over in the mirror multiple times, checking to see if you could still see the tear tracts from when she broke down earlier. Corbyn was out, and wouldn’t be returning for a few hours so now was her chance. Her chance to pack all of her belongings and leave. She felt bad that it had to happen this way, but she needed to do it.

She opened the door, took a few steps, and went into the kitchen. The happy kitchen where most of her favorite memories were made.

“Stop the clocks, it's amazing.”

“What are you talking about Corbyn?”

“You should see the way the light dances off your head.”

She ran her fingers through her hair as Corbyn walked closer to her, the biggest smile on his face. She quickly set down her coffee as he brought her into a hug.

“A million colors of hazel, golden, and red.”

We stood in the kitchen for a few minutes, foreheads pressed together as we silently basked in each other’s company.

Alli separated their heads, looking at the time as she grabbed her cup of coffee. “Saturday morning is fading.”

“The sun's reflected by the coffee in your hand.” He countered, trying to prove they still had time to laze off and enjoy their time alone with each other.

She looked back over at him and slowly let out a sigh, looking at his eyes, “My eyes are caught in your gaze all over again.”

She smiled softly at that day last fall. They didn’t expect to be locked up together during the winter and spring for a pandemic. It put so much strain on their relationship, being with each other all day, every day, for 5 months. She began to feel another memory coming into her mind as she walked over to where she kept her suitcase.

“The weather outside's changing” He smiled, trying to make my day better.

“How so?” I sarcastically asked.

“The leaves are buried under six inches of white” He loved the snow, and couldn’t even enjoy it this year.

“Can we listen to music or something?”

“Yeah how about… oh wow. The radio is playing Iron & Wine.”

“I don't even know who that is,” She laughed. “Oh well it’s better than nothing.”

“This is a new dimension.”

“Yeah you could say that about the year so far.” She shrugged.

“This is a level where we're losing track of time.” He smiled as she scoffed.

“Yeah… where we are both going insane.”

He shyly looked back at me. “I'm holding nothing against it, except you and I.”

He walked back over to the couch where he dove and began tickling Alli.

And by that time she was already halfway done packing her clothes. She laughed at the tears that she could see on the shirt she was holding. She shook her head and continued to put stuff into the suitcase.

She was done packing within the hour. She went and laid down on the couch, just one last time. She was about to get up and leave… but then the door opened.

“Allie? I’m home early.”

She quickly sat up, watching as his eyes immediately cast their way over to the packed suitcase and travel bag when he turned around from shutting the door.

“Where are you off too?”

“Corbyn… I didn't know how to tell you. I’m sorry.”

“You didn't… cheat on me, did you?” He nervously asked.

“No!” She shouted. “You know I'd never do that to you.

“Then where are you-”

“I’m leaving, Corbyn.”

“Where are you going?”

“Back to my mom’s house. I’m sorry I was gonna write you a note or, or text you or something but I just had to get out of here.”

“So this is your way of telling me we’re breaking up?”

“Yeah,” She breathed out. “I’m really sorry I didn't want you to find out this way.”

“Oh.”

He tried to smile, but then a tear started rolling down his cheek.

“No, please. You can’t leave.”

“I have to, Corbyn. We both weren’t ready for this relationship and you know it. We were love drunk, waiting on a miracle. When it didn’t come we both gave up and you know it!” She snapped.

“I’m sorry Alli! Maybe it could have been different if we wouldn’t have been quarantined together?”

“No, we were tryna find ourselves in the winter snow. We did, Corbs. We found our true selves and we don’t work together. You’re so alone in love like the world had disappeared.”

“No, please Alli.”

“I’m sorry.” Allison cried, standing up to give him a quick hug before she gathered her bags and left.

Corbyn’s loud sobs rang through the small apartment.

“Corbyn, shh it will be alright. Just let me go, please.”

“Oh, I won't be silent and I won't let go. I will hold on tighter 'til the afterglow.”

The small word made her falter a bit.

“I will hold on to the afterglow.”

“Hm? What did you say, babe?”

“I will hold on to the afterglow.” He softly mumbled into her neck, making her giggle slightly.

“What does that mean?”

OC turned around and faced him, smiling at his sleepy face.

“It’s the good feelings remaining after a pleasurable or successful experience. Being your boyfriend is exactly an amazing experience. Whether we get married, breakup or tragically die-”

“You better not be dying and this is your way of telling me, Corbyn Matthew” She cut him off sharply, but he smiled at her good intentions.

“No, I’m not dying, I promise.” He gave her a reassuring kiss as he continued on. “I guess what I’m trying to say is no matter what happens with us and our relationship, I’ll always be there for you.

“But what if we do ever break up or get separated?” She asked, looking into his eyes. Alli could spend days looking at his eyes.

“We’ll probably never forget each other-”

“I’d never be able to forget you, Corbyn.” She cut him off. He continued what he was saying with a smile.

“And we'll burn so bright 'til the darkness softly clears,” Corbyn mumbled to himself, remembering the same night she did. With one last look at each other, Allison gathered her bags, opened the door and left without a second glance, leaving them both alone with their memories of each other forever.

taglist: @chilling-seavey @hiya-its-amber @jocelyntheduckie @randomlimelightxxx @stuffofseaveyy @the-girl-who-cried-wolf

#corbyn besson #corbyn besson imagines #corbyn besson fanfic #sad #tw breakup #probably sucks but oh wells instead of what if’s

27 notes · View notes

lumosandnoxwriting · 4 years

Text

I’d Rather Be a Lover Than a Fighter - Harry Potter

Title: I’d rather be a lover than a fighter

Pairing: Harry x fem!reader

Summary: Harry decides to go back to Hogwarts for his 7th year after the war is over. He didn’t think being back in those walls would affect him as much as it is, and his girlfriend helps him through it

A/N: Harry never should have been an auror and I stand by that. Requests are open and feed back is welcomed!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The train ride back to school is different this year.

He, Hermione and Y/N are occupying the same compartment they always do, but they’re missing some pretty important pieces. For one Ron had decided not to return to Hogwarts to complete his education. He’d called Harry mental for deciding to go through NEWTS, considering the fact that Kingsley Shacklebolt, the new Minister for Magic, declared that NEWTS were no longer a job requirement for Aurors as long as they fought in the Battle of Hogwarts.

“If anyone is ready to be an Auror its you, mate,” Ron had said indignantly when Harry told him he’d be heading back to Hogwarts last month. “You defeated bloody Voldemort for Christ sakes.”

Harry knows he’s qualified to be an Auror, he just isn’t sure that’s what he wants to be anymore. Before the war he would have given anything to just skip over his time at Hogwarts and be out in the world, hunting down dark wizards and trying to keep the world safe. But now, now he’s looked the darkest wizard of all in the eyes – he even managed to kill him. Without Voldemort out there, lurking in dark corners and waiting for his turn to strike Harry isn’t sure that being an Auror is for him.

Which is why he’s back on the Hogwarts Express, zooming towards the old castle that always felt like his home. Without his NEWTS his job prospects in the wizard world are bleak, unless he wants to end up working at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Which wouldn’t be so bad, but he wants to do something worthwhile with his life. Even after defeating Voldemort he still feels like he has to do something good with his life, so that his parents, Sirius, Remus, Tonks and everyone else who died fighting in the Wizarding War didn’t die in vain. Didn’t die protecting a directionless, unaccomplished git.

He’s brought out of his stupor by Y/N gently shaking his arm and gesturing to the woman with the Trolly. He gives his girlfriend a quick reassuring smile, before he gets up and buys their usual stack of treats. He sits back down and starts in on a pumpkin pasty, almost subconsciously turning to give Hedwig some.

But that’s the other missing piece. Hedwig had died protecting him over a year ago, and yet he still couldn’t bring himself to enter the Magical Menagerie to get a new owl. She was so much more than an owl. She was the first real creature to show Harry genuine love, and she brought him much needed companionship during his long summers with the Dursleys. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to replace Hedwig.

He quickly shoves the rest of the pasty into his mouth, chewing slowly as he brings his attention back to Hermione and Y/N. They’d been chatting amongst themselves for most of the journey, allowing Harry some much-needed quiet time.

They don’t even seem to notice that he’s paying attention again, too engrossed in a story of one of Hermione’s adventures in Australia. Not too long after the war her and Ron went to find her parents to restore their memories. It took a few weeks, but they were successful, and even though Ron returned to The Burrow, Hermione had stayed with her parents, only arriving back in England yesterday.

Before long everyone around them starts rustling, changing into their robes as the castle grows nearer. Harry mindlessly gets ready, just as he has done countless times before. But the usual feeling of comfort in his stomach has turned into a hardened ball of anxiety.

“Those Thestrals really are something, aren’t they? I never imagined they’d look like that,” Y/N whispers to Harry as they make their way into the castle, her hand lightly brushing his.

They had agreed that they would keep the PDA to a minimum, not wanting to draw even more attention to Harry. He always hated being the Boy Who Lived and now he was the Boy Who Lived Again. The Boy Who Killed Voldemort.

But in this moment, as they enter the Great Hall, where Voldemort’s lifeless body had laid only a few months ago, there’s nothing more he craves than the touch of his girlfriend.

He grabs her hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “I told you, not your fault you never believed me.”

She lets out a quiet laugh, squeezing Harry’s hand back even tighter as they take a seat at the Gryffindor table. Harry can feel everyone’s eyes on him, he looks down at his plate, letting their stares burn a hole in the back of his head. Some students had only heard stories of what happened in the castle that night, too young to fight they had been ushered out by McGonagall before it all began. Others though, others were there the whole time, fighting alongside each other.

“Just ignore them, love,” Y/N whispers in his ear, placing a kiss on his temple.

Luckily Professor Sprout is bringing in the first years to be sorted, and all of the attention is off of Harry. He looks up towards the head table, and his eyes meet Hagrid’s. He gives Harry a wink before turning his attention back towards the sorting.

Harry looks towards McGonagall next, and he can’t help but think that she looks like she belongs in the Headmaster’s golden seat. Her eyes don’t meet his, but he somehow knows that the smile on her face is for him.

Hogwarts is different. Everywhere he looks he is reminded of the Battle of Hogwarts, unable to escape those memories. On his way down to potions a few weeks in to term he stops dead in his tracks, positive that Lavender Brown is laying on the floor in front of him, bleeding from her neck.

He feels someone squeeze his shoulders, and with a blink the image is gone.

“it’s alright, love. Nothing’s there,” Y/N speaks softly into his ear before pressing a kiss into the back of Harry’s neck. They stand there for a few minutes, her hands massaging Harry’s shoulders as his heart rate comes down. It had looked so real.

Thankfully when they slip into potions a few minutes later Slughorn doesn’t even acknowledge that they’re late.

Things go on like this for weeks. Y/N doesn’t say anything to Harry about it, letting him deal with things himself. Her only interference is words of encouragement and soft touches, letting Harry come back to reality on his own. Until finally it all comes to a head at the end of October and Y/N has no choice but to get involved.

They’re halfway through a double charms lesson when McGonagall comes running through the closed classroom door. Y/N and Hermione had been glancing at the door for the past hour, waiting for Harry to show up from Divination. She looks flushed, and she gestures for Y/N and Hermione to follow her.

“I’m so sorry for the intrusion Professor Flitwick, but I need to borrow Ms. Y/L/N and Ms. Granger for an urgent matter.” The door was still cracked open, and the class could now hear a loud commotion coming from somewhere below them.

Y/N and Hermione share a worried glance before they leave their seats and follow McGonagall. As they follow her downstairs and past the great hall the noise they heard earlier grows louder until all they can see in front of them is a sea of students. Y/N and Hermione share another worried glance before they follow McGonagall into the crowd.

“Out of the way! Students make your way to your classes now!”

Some of the students start to move towards their classrooms, while others merely move out of the way, still looking at something on the ground. They finally make it through the students and Y/N gasps sharply.

Harry is sitting on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest with his head down as he silently rocks back and forth. His body shakes with uneven breaths, and Y/N is sure he’s crying. She looks around and it dawns on her. Fred. They are standing in the corridor where the oldest Weasley twin had died, the ghost of his last laugh still on his face.

Y/N rushes over to Harry as Hermione helps McGonagall and Professor Slughorn disburse the large crowd that had gathered around him. She kneels next to him, and wraps her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly.

“Shh, love. It’s alright. Everything is okay. Harry look at me. You’re fine,” Y/N tries to reassure. But he continues to rock, a mess of words quietly spilling from his lips. She leans in closer, trying to make out what he’s saying.

“I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Y/N can only make out a few phrases, but her chest aches with the pain that Harry must be feeling. Almost all of the students have vanished, so she can clearly hear someone rushing towards them. She looks up just in time to see Madam Pomfrey reach them.

“I’ll take it from here, Y/N dear. I’ll take him up to the hospital wing and I’ll give him a sleeping potion. I can’t imagine he’s slept much these past few weeks. It’ll be alright dear.”

Y/N hugs Harry tightly one last time before she steps away. Madam Pomfrey whispers something to Harry before helping him to get up. Professor Slughorn joins the pair, and they head off towards the hospital wing, most of Harry’s weight being carried by the other two.

Y/N, Hermione and Professor McGonagall all stand in silence, looking at each other. None of them know exactly what to say. They knew coming back to Hogwarts would be hard for all of them, especially Harry, but they had no idea it’d be this hard.

“Don’t worry about going back to class, girls. I’ll let Professor Flitwick know what happened and that I gave you both permission to not return,” McGonagall says with a sad smile before she hurries off towards the hospital wing.

Not knowing what to do with themselves, Y/N and Hermione trudge up to the Gryffindor common room. They collapse on to their favorite, softest couch in front of the fire, and Y/N can’t help but notice how quiet the common room is.

“Guess I’m just not used to being here during the day when everyone is in class,” Y/N thinks to herself, her eyes gazing at the empty fireplace.

Y/N and Hermione don’t speak, unable to find the words to express what they’re feeling exactly. It’s not until Ginny comes through the portrait hole with their things and settles onto the closest armchair that they find the words.

“it was so scary,” Y/N expresses once they’ve filled Ginny in on everything that has happened. Ginny looks horrified, and Y/N is sure that she and Hermione have similar looks on their faces.

“I’ve never seen him like that. I mean I could tell that he was having difficulties,” she pauses so they can all share a look of agreement. Harry and his small episodes had been a frequent topic of conversation in their dorm room at night. “But I never thought they would get to be that bad. He didn’t even look like himself.”

Ginny shakes her head and looks down at her hands.

“I mean I’ve felt, things in that corridor too,” she explains with a shaky voice, still not looking up at them. “But never anything like that.”

“I thought you said everything was getting better with him?” Hermione asks, turning her attention to Y/N, referencing the conversation the three of them had before Arithmancy a few days ago.

Y/N can feel Ginny’s eyes on her too, her cheeks heating up a bit at the harsh attention. She knows that Hermione and Ginny are just being intense because they care about Harry, but she can’t help but feel like she’s on trial.

Y/N just nods, giving herself a second to find the right words.

“I did say that, but only because that’s what he told me last weekend.” She pauses to clear her throat. “He had another episode on Saturday, up in the owlery. He went with me to mail a letter to my parents, and his eyes just glazed over. It was like he wasn’t there anymore, like his mind had taken him somewhere else.”

Y/N shivers as the blank stare Harry had comes rushing back to the front of her mind.

“I made him sit down and talk to me that night. I told him how scary those episodes or whatever were getting and that I thought it was time he talked to someone about them. I told him it didn’t have to be me. It could be Professor Flitwick or McGonagall or even Hagrid, that he just needs to talk to someone,” she pauses to look to Hermione and Ginny, who both give her reassuring glances.

“And he told me that he was getting better. That whatever happened in the Owlery was the first episode he’d had in a week and that his nightmares were getting better, that he hadn’t had one in days. I’m sure that was a lie though. With what happened today, and the fact that Madam Pomfrey and Professor Slughorn had to basically carry him all the way to the hospital wing I don’t think he’s slept in days,” she trails off, leaning back into the couch.

They don’t say anything as the common room begins to fill with students as everyone heads down to dinner. As they head through the portrait hole, trailing behind everyone else Y/N sighs.

“I just wish he would open up to me.”

The girls decide to do their homework in the common room that night, partially so Ginny can catch them up on what they missed in Charms, but mostly so they can wait for Harry to return from the Hospital Wing. However, he doesn’t return until well after midnight, long after Hermione and Ginny had gone to bed. Y/N had just begun to fall asleep on the couch, the fire dying in front of her and her mind heavy with thoughts of Harry when her boyfriend ambles in through the portrait hole.

“Harry!” she breathes excitedly, her energy somehow returning. She rushes to her boyfriend’s side, grabbing his hand gently and ushering him over to the couch. They both take a seat, but Y/N fights her urge to cuddle up close to him. They need to have a serious conversation, and she wants to be able to look Harry in the eyes. She, however, doesn’t release his hand.

“Alright, love?” he asks, voice hoarse.

“Yeah, ‘course, just worried about you,” she pauses, pursing her lips. She wants to let him go up to bed, but if she doesn’t talk to him now she’ll lose all of her nerve. “You wanna tell me what that was?”

Harry looks away from her gaze, a red blush blossoming on his cheeks.

“I bet the whole school saw, huh?” he asks nervously, still refusing to look Y/N in the eyes.

She shakes her head. “Not the whole school. The only reason me and Hermione,” she pauses when Harry lets out a grunt of annoyance that Hermione had witnessed his episode as well. “The only reason we saw is because Professor McGonagall came to fetch us from Charms. She probably was hoping we could talk you out of it.”

She pauses, giving Harry’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I figured something was up since you didn’t show up to Charms. So, you wanna tell me what happened?” she asks, letting a little bit of annoyance creep into her tone.

Harry blushes harder, ashamed that he had tried skirting the question. Y/N is the only person that he’s never lied to. Partially because he can’t bring himself to ever hurt her, but also because she is the only person he’s been comfortable enough with to share every single thought and feeling he’s ever had.

“I’ve been trying to work that out myself on my way back here from the Hospital Wing,” he admits sheepishly. “One second I was on my way to Charms and the next I was sitting on the ground with you next to me.”

He pauses, swallowing the lump that appears in his throat. Y/N squeezes his hand, encouraging him to continue.

“I was coming from the North tower; people were everywhere walking to class or outside for their break. Everything was normal. I was thinking about tomorrow’s quidditch practice when all of a sudden I realized where I was, where I was standing and then suddenly I wasn’t on my way to class anymore. I was back in the castle that night, watching Fred, George and Percy walk down the corridor. They were talking, getting along and then I watched it, like it was in slow motion, Rookwood was casting a curse at the wall next to them, the wall crumbled, and Fred was trapped underneath it.”

Harry pauses to take a deep breath. He had started to shake slightly and could feel cold sweat running down his neck. Y/N rubs small circles on the back on his hand with her thumb, letting him collect himself.

“I felt so helpless,” he confesses. “Like I could have done something to stop it. Like it was all my fault.”

Y/N waits a few minutes to see if Harry is going to continue before she speaks.

“But love that’s the thing, there was nothing you could do. Everything that happened that night, Lavender, Fred, Tonks, Remus, they chose to fight. They knew the risks and they did it anyway. And that’s not your fault, Harry. Harry, look at me.”

Harry blinks away the few tears that were puddling in his eyes before he turns to look Y/N in the eyes.

“It’s not your fault.”

Harry feels like she’s speaking directly into his soul.

“But I feel like it is. Like there was something more I could have done. Like there’s still something I can do,” he explains.

Y/N scoffs at Harry, shaking her head.

“You are so daft Harry, honestly,” she says, tugging him closer to her. “Nothing that happened that night is your fault. Without you doing exactly what you did Voldemort wouldn’t have been killed. If it wasn’t for you the diadem wouldn’t have been destroyed. Without you going into the forest when you did the horcrux in you wouldn’t have been destroyed. Without you we’d all be living in a different world.”

Harry lets her words settle in before he speaks again. “But even so, it still feels like there’s so much more to fight for. Like I need to fight every day so that they didn’t die in vain.”

“So, who didn’t die in vain, love?” Y/N asks, though she has a feeling she already knows the answer.

“My parents! And Sirius, and Mad-Eye. Fred, Remus, Tonks. Dobby, Lavender. Hedwig,” his voice cracks on the last word, a small sob coming from his throat afterwards.

“Oh love,” she whispers, fully embracing Harry now. “You can’t carry the weight of all that on your shoulders. All of those people, they didn’t die in vain. They died knowing that you were going to save the world. And you did, love. It’s sad that they died, yes, but you can’t keep fighting a battle you’ve already won.”

Harry presses his face into Y/N’s neck, taking a deep breath. Her scent washes over him and he can’t help but feel like he’s at home. He peppers a few kisses to her warm skin before pulling away so he can look at her.

“You’re right, love. You’re absolutely right, and thank god you are,” he chuckles, for what feels like the first time in months. “I’ll work on dealing with this, I promise. Because it’s honestly dreadful, today was the first proper sleep I’ve gotten in weeks. It’s exhausting feeling like this.”

Y/N smiles at Harry, leaning in to give him a deep kiss.

“Thank god I can stop fighting, because honestly I’d rather be a lover than a fighter,” he says as he pulls away, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

He leans in to kiss her again, but Y/N only lets his lips brush hers before pushing him away with a laugh.

“Whatever you say, lover boy. But you better still fight on the quidditch pitch because there is no way we aren’t bringing home the Quidditch cup in our final year.”

Harry laughs along with her, kissing her fully this time.

#harry potter #Harry Potter imagine #Harry Potter x reader #harry x reader #hp #golden

220 notes · View notes

a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Poisoned Veins

Prompts: Hi! Feel free to ignore this, but I'd love it if you could write some sort of Merlin (preferably Merthur) fanfic involving the serket sting and S3 E1/2? Maybe just after Merlin gets back, or after the battle, or something (not too long after the sting, is what I'm saying). Either good or bad Morgana, I don't mind. But lots of nice hurt/comfort with Merlin and Arthur, emphasis on the comfort (I love your fics, especially the relationship between Merlin and Arthur, so...) - anon

May I ask for a Merlin&Arthur fic? I love how you write them together! - anon

Thanks for the prompts babes!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: implied/referenced mind control

Pairings: merthur and mergana, but they can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 4108

Was it the stupidest thing he’s done all day? Probably not. The stupidest thing he’s done in the last hour?

Most definitely.

But as he stands here, in the vault, deep under stone and soldiers, he faces Morgana and closes his eyes.

Golden light. Then silence.

The pit of his stomach opens up, his power spilling and spilling into the air between them. It burns his eyes, even through his lids, the tips of his fingers tingling with the excess magic. It hurts. It’s the best he’s felt in ages.

He hears Morgana gasp in front of him.

He opens his eyes to see her, powerful in her armor, the staff in one hand, the sword in the other, tears like chainmail glittering on her face. Her mouth is open, torn between what must be fury and shock, as he holds the glow spinning in his hands.

“I understand,” he hears himself say from miles away, “and I’m sorry.”

Is it partly out of spite? To prove her wrong? Maybe. Is it partly because he desperately wants Kilgharrah to be wrong, that they’re not the same, but yes, yes they are? Maybe.

Is it mostly because he helped turn Morgana into this, helped forge the sword the Morgana has become in Morgause’s hand?

Merlin holds his magic there, bared for her to see, as her mouth snarls and spits at him.

The words flash across his vision even as she doesn’t speak them. How could he, he betrayed her, how dare he side with them, what kind of a monster must he be?

They emerge in a wordless yell as she lunges forward, intent on burying her sword into his chest until—

The force of the blast knocks them back, throwing them like rag dolls against unyielding stone. Merlin winces, his body protesting first from the force of the expended magic and then the sharp crack from the wall. He manages to wedge himself upright with his elbow, scanning furiously for the damage done to the rest of the vault.

Fissures run along the length of the ceiling, dust showering as the soldiers upstairs rush back and forth. Somewhere up there are the knights, Leon, Arthur, the others—he should get up, he should see what else he has to do, but—

He looks down, searching for Morgana.

He finds a limp body, a sword flung out of a hand, and a staff that hums with enough dark power to make his stomach churn.

Panic courses through his veins as he scrambles across the floor, palms digging roughly into jagged stone, knees and elbows catching on loose rock. He winces, stumbles, flails, keeps going. He’s already hurt Morgana once, he won’t dare leave her again.

“Morgana,” he mumbles, straining through the clouds of dust, “Morgana—can—can you hear me?”

She’s out cold, lying limply on the floor. He reaches out, grabbing at her chainmail, trying to roll her onto her back, see what the damage is, did she hit something and get knocked unconscious? No blood greets him as her head turns, he can’t feel anything broken, so then what—why—

Something under his hand burns.

He yanks his hand away to see a bracelet, the bracelet Morgause gave her, the bracelet that stayed on as the dead rose around them, flare, splutter, and die.

Morgause…

Morgana gasps awake.

“Easy,” Merlin says before she can sit up too quickly and hurt herself, “easy, easy, Morgana, please, it’s—it’s alright, I’m not going to hurt you—“

“Merlin—Merlin—“ her voice grows shriller in a panic— “Merlin, please you have to listen to me—“

“I’m not going to hurt you, you have to believe me—“

“Merlin, please—“

“It’s alright, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I wanted to, just please listen to me, we have to stop this—“

“Merlin!”

The note of genuine hysteria gives him pause before he looks up and sees her face. Her face, not that horrible mask that’s been plastered to her since she returned, no, this is Morgana, shining back at him, tears still armor, as real as the hand fisted in his tunic to pull him closer, not push him away.

“…Morgana?”

“Merlin,” she says in a rush, “Merlin, we have to destroy the staff, Morgause is using it to channel my powers, she’s attacking the city, we need to—if we destroy the staff we may still win—“

“Morgana?” Merlin blinks, not wanting to believe it.

“Please, Merlin,” Morgana says, sitting up and taking his tunic in both hands now, “please, I know—I know I’ve been awful to you, I know this is my fault too, but you have to believe me, she’s more powerful than you know, we have to—“

“Are you hurt?” He looks her over, sees the bracelet still on her wrist. He reaches for it.

“What are you doing? We have to stop her!”

“The bracelet,” he says, “take your bracelet off.”

Morgana looks down. Her eyes widen when she sees the jewel in the middle burst open. “It’s—it’s broken…it’s broken…”

And the heart-wrenching look on her face as her mouth twists and she yanks it off is enough to convince Merlin.

“How do we destroy it?”

“I don’t know!” Morgana yanks him to his feet. ‘She said only the High Priestesses and their blood god had ever seen it.”

Merlin winces as the clattering above gets louder. He looks around to see more and more of the dead rising. “Well, we’ve got to try something!”

Morgana’s face twists further as she grips the staff. Her eyes begin to glow.

“Morgause is a High Priestess,” she growls, as the glow intensifies, “and I am her sister.”

She looks to Merlin.

“Help me.”

Merlin’s own magic starts to respond as the staff glows brighter, its own dark magic threatening to swallow the kingdom whole. Morgana’s magic reaches for him as they hold the staff together.

“On three,” she grits through a clenched jaw, “ready?”

Merlin nods, starting to pant with the effort of holding onto the staff. “One…”

“Two…”

“Three!”

The staff shatters.

They stand, frozen, made immobile by the magic surrounding them, as the dead start to fall back to the earth. Merlin’s eyes are fixed open, gazing at the remnants of the ancient tree, bound only by magic now dissipated. Across from him, Morgana’s gaze locks on his and they breathe.

“You have magic,” she whispers after an eternity of silence, “you…you’re like me.”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin says, his hands still outstretched, “I’m sorry.”

A wounded noise escapes them both as they slump to the ground, exhausted by the weight of the magic in the room. All around them, skeletons fall, the castle settles, and the battle rages on. The faintest sound of swords manages to reach them, down here, buried under stone, but for now, they are alone.

Alone in a swirl of magic and the broken promises of destiny.

Merlin drags himself across the floor to curl protectively around Morgana’s shaking form. He can’t let her get hurt now. She’s just broken one of the most powerful enchantments he’s ever seen, let alone felt, there’s no way he’s letting anyone near her. Morgana stirs as he sets himself over her, reaching upwards to grab a fist of his tunic. She tugs him down into a hug, her arms going around him so tightly he winces, before wrapping his own around her.

They’re sorry. They’re so, so sorry.

“I haven’t felt anything in ages,” comes the hoarse whisper, “it felt—It felt as though she banished me behind a sheet of glass, even in my own body.”

“You did it,” he mumbles back, squeezing her tighter, “you broke the enchantment. You did it. She can’t control you anymore.”

“I’m still so angry.” Her chest hitches as she gasps. “I’m so—I’m so angry and I can’t—I can’t tell which anger is mine and which anger is hers.”

The stone echoes in silent judgment as her confession rings in the air around them.

“You don’t have to figure it out right now.” He tightens his grip. “We can just—rest. For a moment.”

“Yes, that sounds nice.” Her voice starts to lilt. “Just…a little…rest…right here.”

“The others can—they’ll be fine.”

“Yes, yes, quite.”

Merlin’s eyes start to droop as his body finally gets to sag in relief. He winces.

“Merlin?” Morgana stirs under him. “Are you—did I hurt you?”

He shakes his head. “No, no, I just…I think I need to sleep, now…”

Kilgharrah’s warning about the cure returns. It will work, but not quickly.

And he just burnt up a lot of his energy.

He curses softly under his breath and Morgana sits up quickly, pulling him against the wall as they lean together.

“Merlin, Merlin? Merlin, talk to me,” she says as she scrambles to make sure his tunic and neck kerchief aren’t making it hard for him to breathe, “stay—stay with me.”

“I’m—I’m sorry…”

“It’s alright, Merlin, I hurt you too, I’m not angry at you, just—well, alright,” she yields when he manages to give her a look, “maybe a little, but not like that, just—stay awake, what’s wrong?”

He swallows roughly. “The Serket sting,” he manages through a dry throat, “it—I’m still not strong enough to fully…fully heal yet. I think—I think I pushed too hard.”

“Oh, Merlin,” she says, the perfect balance between chiding and fond, “you always push yourself too hard.”

“Easy for you to say,” he mumbles back, “you’re…you’re as close to an overachiever as they come.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

Their laughs are too tired to be convincing, cut off by an awful churn in Merlin’s stomach. The familiar pain of the poison swirls at the base of his spine.

“Shh, shh,” Morgana says frantically, pressing a glowing hand to his stomach, “I can—I had Morgause teach me some healing, I can try to hold it at bay while we find Gaius—“

“I’ll be fine,” he says, feeling the familiar wash of magic through his veins, “I’ll be fine, you…you save your strength. We’ve got some explaining to do when this is all over.”

Indeed, above them, the sounds of battle are slowly quieting.

Morgana laughs shakily. “And you best believe you’re going to be right there with me,” she warns, “you’re not getting out of it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says as his eyes start to drift closed, “but you…you can’t burn yourself out either.”

“So let’s both stay awake,” she says firmly, her arms still wrapped around him, “we’ll…we can just rest, right here, and then…then we’ll tell them.”

“Stay with me, then,” Merlin mumbles, reaching to wrap his arms more tightly around her, “don’t try and run off as soon as I pass out.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

There they stay, Morgana’s nose pressed into the crook of Merlin’s neck, Merlin’s hand buried at the base of Morgana’s braid, curled up, safe and exhausted next to the shattered staff.

There Arthur finds them, tearing frantically through the citadel, shouting for Merlin, for Morgana, for anyone who’s seen them.

They look up when he comes in, fear giving way to relief as a jibe rises to the tip of his tongue. Something cheap about the two of them sneaking off, or feigned disgust or outrage at finding them in such a compromising position. But then he catches sight of their tear-stained faces and the carnage around them and they can see him putting the pieces together.

“Merlin,” he finally says after a long moment, “Morgana, you’re both—you’re both safe.”

“Arthur?” Morgana props herself up a little. “Arthur, are you—“

“I’m alright,” he says, “the battle’s over.”

“Arthur.” Merlin tries to sit up too but neither he nor Morgana can make it. “Arthur—“

“Oh, alright,” Arthur sighs like he’s also not desperate to pick his way through the rubble toward them, “I’m coming.”

Still, he can’t disguise the look of relief on his face as he sits next to them, Morgana immediately pulling herself up to throw an arm around his neck.

“Alright, alright,” he mumbles like he’s not the most relieved prince in the world, “I’m here, I’m alright. Are you safe?”

“I’m safe now,” she says, “we destroyed the staff, we stopped the magic.”

Arthur looks around. “So you did. Well done.”

One of Morgana’s hands is still clutching Merlin’s tunic, dragging him closer to Arthur as she hugs him. Arthur raises an eyebrow as he notes this, looking to Merlin to make a joke only for it to die as he takes in what Merlin can only assume is his pale, sweaty, exhausted face.

“Are you alright?” He reaches for Merlin’s arm. “Are you hurt?”

Merlin thinks about shaking his head.

“Destroying the staff wasn’t easy,” he decides after a moment, which is true, “the magic…took a lot out of us. Both of us.” Which is also true.

“Merlin got hurt with a poison,” Morgana adds, shooting him a look that only he can tell is guilty, “he’s fighting it off still.”

“I’ve gotten the cure,” Merlin says before Arthur can indignantly rush them both upstairs, “it’s just…taking a while.”

Arthur’s gaze softens and he tugs Merlin a little closer.

“Is that why you’re still here,” he asks the both of them, “is it just…taking a while?”

They nod.

“Then let’s get you somewhere safe,” he says, starting to stand, “the battle is over. The citadel is safe.”

Morgana’s eyes flick to Merlin’s.

“Cenred and Morgause,” Merlin says, “are they gone?”

“Fled, it looks like,” Arthur says as they stand, “probably back to their own kingdoms.”

Morgana’s shoulders slump. “Thank goodness.”

“I’ll check to see what the easiest way back is.” Arthur walks toward the door. “Just wait here a moment.”

As soon as he disappears, Morgana looks down. Merlin follows her gaze to see the bracelet there, at their feet. He squeezes Morgana’s hand.

“Áce wele!”

The bracelet explodes into shards of metal as Morgana spits the spell. Arthur returns to see them still standing there, clutching each other.

“Is a side effect of the spell that you can’t let go,” he jokes, coming back to lead them out of the vault, “or is it just you two?”

When neither of them responds, he ushers them to Gaius without further comment.

Merlin nods when Gaius gives him a strange look, motioning to wait until Arthur is outside, standing guard.

“I’m sorry,” both Morgana and Merlin say at the same time, before Morgana clears her throat, “I’m sorry, Gaius, for everything. I didn’t know—Morgause—the bracelet—I know that doesn’t make up for everything but—“

“It’s quite alright, Morgana,” Gaius says, “I am not blameless either. And I am sorry.”

She accepts it with a quick jerk of her head. “I’m still angry. But until I know which of the anger is mine and which is hers, I’m…I can’t…”

She rolls her shoulders back.

“You have nothing to fear from me.”

Gaius bows his head humbly. “And you shall find no more loyal a servant.”

Morgana glances to Merlin and mouths except for you.

Merlin blushes.

Gaius shoos him out to tend to the last of Morgana’s wounds and to make a potion to clear the last of the magic from her, leaving Merlin stumbling into the corridor and running straight into Arthur’s arms.

“There you are,” he says softly, helping Merlin stand, “has Gaius told you you’re alright?”

“He said there’s nothing else for me to do but rest,” Merlin manages, before remembering that he needs to tend to Arthur, “but I can—I’ll help you first.”

Arthur just hums and starts walking them back to his chambers. They pass others, tending to wounds, hugging their loved ones, until they push open the doors to Arthur’s rooms and Merlin’s shoulders slump. His fingers fumble a few too many times for it to be considered efficient, but before long Arthur is free of his armor and Merlin all but collapses onto the table, having struggled to hang the last of it up.

“Will there be anything else, sire?”

Please, no. Let me rest.

“Yes, actually, Merlin, come here.”

He winces, pulls himself together and turns, ready to answer whatever Arthur’s going to have him do next, only to frown. In the time it took him to get Arthur’s armor cleared away, Arthur’s filled a small basin with water and set it on a table next to the bed. He opens his mouth to ask what Arthur wants when Arthur beckons him closer.

“Arthur, what—“

“Sit, Merlin,” Arthur says in the soft voice from the vault, taking him gently by the arm and guiding him to the bed, “there. I’m going to clean you off.”

“What? I’m fine!”

“You’re not,” Arthur corrects, still speaking in the voice that is making it very hard for Merlin to stay awake, “now hush and raise your arms.”

“Why?”

“Your tunic is filthy.” Arthur gives the material a tug. “And I need to see where you’re hurt.”

“‘M not hurt.”

“Morgana said you were poisoned. That means you’re hurt. Where did they get you?”

“…back.”

“On your back? Alright. Let’s go ahead and get this off you…”

Arthur’s hands are steady as he guides the tunic up and over Merlin’s head, followed by a sharp inhale as he sees the bruises from the chains.

“…Merlin, this looks like you were tortured.” Merlin can’t do anything but blink up at him. “You said the poison was on your back?”

Merlin nods.

“Here, I’m going to lean you forward, you just lean against me, alright?”

Arthur’s hand cups Merlin’s head, pulling him forward until he rests against Arthur’s chest. He loses himself in the slow card of fingers through his hair as Arthur leans over him to check where the poison must’ve been. When he feels a warm hand run over the still-tender wound, he winces.

Arthur stills. “Here?”

Merlin nods. “Two—two—wait, how long has it been since I got back?”

Arthur is quiet for a moment. Then he pulls away, hushing the embarrassing noise of protest that comes from Merlin’s throat.

“I’m not going far, just right here.” He takes a cloth and dips it in the water. “Let me clean your face.”

A warm hand slots itself under Merlin’s chin and lifts. A moment later, there’s a cool cloth on his face, stroking along his cheeks, over his forehead. Arthur asks him to close his eyes and the cloth sweeps gently, so gently over his closed eyes, getting away the salt and the dirt and the last of the tears.

“Shh,” Arthur soothes when Merlin lets out a pained noise, “it’s alright. I’m not hurt, you’ll be alright, I’m right here.”

“‘Rthur—“

The cloth leaves, dropped back onto the table as Arthur cradles his head in his hands. “You’re exhausted, Merlin, but I need you to open your eyes for me.”

For Arthur. He can do it for Arthur.

Arthur smiles encouragingly as he meets his gaze, kneeling by the bed so Merlin won’t strain his neck. He ruffles Merlin’s hair.

“There you are,” he murmurs, “now show me where it hurts.”

“Hurts?”

“You don’t have a fever, I checked, but you’re still in pain. I need you to show me.”

“I, um…”

“Hey,” Arthur calls, standing again to tuck Merlin into his arms, “you don’t have to be embarrassed, not with me, I’m here to look after you, it’s alright.”

“It—the magic—it—from the—“ Merlin swallows— “the magic from the staff and the poison, it—it hurt.”

Arthur makes a sympathetic noise, reaching for the cloth again. “Took a lot out of you, hmm?”

Merlin nods miserably, only to yelp in surprise when Arthur tilts him back, held with one arm around his back and the other pressing the cool cloth just below his chest.

“I’ve got you,” he says quietly when Merlin lets out another confused noise, pressing the cloth into the hollow of his ribcage, “just lay back and trust me, alright?”

Arthur props himself up on the bed, Merlin almost dipped in his arms as he holds the cloth still. The cool water almost feels like it’s drawing some of the pain out of him, making him sag into Arthur’s arms.

“Shh, that’s it, just a little longer.” Arthur turns the cloth so the cool side stays against Merlin. “Does that feel good?”

Merlin nods. His head lolls against Arthur’s shoulder, his eyes threatening to close. They blink open once Arthur starts talking again.

“You were dying,” he says quietly, looking at Merlin, “when you were gone those two days, weren’t you?”

Merlin nods.

“Oh, Merlin, I’m sorry.” His thumb rubs a soothing circle into his side. “No one will touch you again, I won’t let them.”

Something in Arthur’s voice makes him want to melt, stay here, safe in the crook of Arthur’s arms, but he can’t. If Arthur notices the way he rouses himself again, he doesn’t comment. Instead, he just turns the cloth over again.

“Something happened down there,” he says softly, “between you and Morgana, didn’t it?”

Merlin tenses.

“Not like that, Merlin,” Arthur chuckles, “but something happened when you broke the staff, didn’t it?”

He nods hesitantly. Arthur rolls his eyes.

“I do pay attention. I know what Morgana’s like. You two were practically inseparable when I first arrived.” The arm holding Merlin gives him a little squeeze. “You don’t have to tell me what it is, just…tell me, will you two be alright?”

He nods again. He’s sure of that.

“Good,” Arthur murmurs, setting the cloth aside. Merlin tries to sit up only for Arthur’s arm to hold him steady. “No, no, you stay. Here…there you go.”

Merlin blinks, a little confused when Arthur lays him tenderly out onto the bed. He props himself up on his elbows as Arthur bustles to the wardrobe, fetching a nightshirt for Merlin and helping him into it.

“What—“

“You’re exhausted, Merlin,” he says like that explains everything, “stay here tonight. Sleep.”

“I can’t do that, you—ah!“

“Shh, shh, hey, easy,” Arthur soothes, wrapping his arms around Merlin as he doubles over, a hand pressed hard to his chest.

Merlin bites back a whimper as another bolt of pain shoots through his chest. Damn Serket poison. Dimly, he realizes Arthur’s right. There’s no way he’s going to be able to make it back to Gaius and explain what’s going on.

Then he realizes as he’s been dealing with this, Arthur’s moved him.

He’s tucked up under the prince’s blankets, a pillow under his head, his boots and rough trousers removed. Next to him, Arthur reaches out to cradle him against his chest, rubbing soothing circles into his back. He lets out another mewl as Arthur gentles away the pain in his shoulders. There’s a warm hand under his chin, guiding it up. Arthur tilts his head and chucks Merlin lightly.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

Oh.

Arthur’s worried.

“It hurts,” he manages, “it just—it hurts.”

Arthur makes a sympathetic noise, pulling him closer and tucking his head under his chin. He rolls them, Merlin on top, his knees coming up to bracket Merlin’s body as he strokes a warm hand up and down Merlin’s back.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, Merlin’s head safely in the crook of his neck, “it’s over now.”

“It’s over?”

“Yes, sweetheart, you’re safe. I’m right here.” Arthur cuddles him closer. “The battle is over. Camelot is safe. Morgana is safe. I’m safe.”

He cups the back of Merlin’s head and brings his mouth to his ear.

“You can rest now, sweetheart. Just go to sleep,” he whispers, “go on…”

Arthur is here. Arthur is solid and holds him firmly. Arthur is big and warm and soft and Merlin is so, so, tired.

Rest, young warlock, he thinks he hears as he drifts off, and well done.

#merthur #merlin #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #arthur pendragon #morgana pendragon #dragonbabbles #fic

22 notes · View notes

beykhabarr · 3 years

Text

Memories and Sunlit hair.

Sirius has to attend a party organized by his parents, and has a panic attack

So it all came down to this, Sirius thought to himself as he braced himself for the panic taking over him in waves. The lights were too bright for his eyes, and he could hear everything and nothing all at once in the heavily crowded ballroom. He sat hidden away from his mother’s eyes, trying to control the tremble of his fingers as they turned to ice. He tried not to think about how he could feel the sweat sliding down his forehead, as his heart pounded out of his chest.

“You alright mate?” He heard a voice, he couldn’t quite put a finger on who’s voice it was until Andromeda came and sat across from him. “You look pale,” she said, taking his trembling hands in hers “and cold” she added.

“It’s-It’s probably nothing,” he said and gulped down the drink in his hand in one go, hoping that its bitter sting would make it easier. It didn’t.

“Hey, Siri” Andromeda spoke again, and gently took the glass from him.

“Do you have your pills?” She asked him, he shook his head, not trusting himself enough to speak.

“Okay, that’s not going to be a problem, should I get you something?”

He didn’t know how to tell her, but he needed her to stop talking, he needed the strain in the back of his head to loosen up, it felt like all the veins in his head were rebelling against him, all his life he craved control, and the seized the power over himself from his family, and now his body won’t even listen to him.

“Ice,” he said, so quietly he wasn’t sure she heard him.

But she got up, and walked away, he put his head in his arms, and let the waves wash over him. “Imagine you’re riding a tide” Madam Pomphrey had told him once, let it wash over, accept it, acknowledge it” he did, as he inhaled and exhaled. He closed his eyes, and thought about Hogwarts, the night was going to end and he would be back in his apartment with Remus in no time, this party was his last straw, it brought back memories he was trying so hard to forget. If he could, he thought to himself, he would laugh, because there was no forgetting. He would leave this place behind, he told himself, he is never coming back, he told himself, he told his brain to shut up because he knew he was never coming back. He felt something cold press to his neck, and he leaned into it. He felt a gentle press on his shoulder and he immediately knew who it was “Re” he mumbled.

“Yes, love”

“I—” The horror of Remus being here, among his family suddenly made his throat constrict.

“Shh” he said “They can’t see me, and neither can you”

He relaxed against the back of his chair, and the back of his chair, hearing his heart pounding in his chest, the beating got slower and slower, he flexed his fingers, finally coming back to his body, he felt his breath even out.

He exhaled.

Remus whispered in his ears, “I told you you shouldn’t go alone”

“I’m tired,” Sirius said, unable to think of coherent words or thoughts.

“Let’s go home, love”

“I don’t think I have enough energy to apparate” Sirius whispered back.

He felt a chair pull up beside him, he felt Remus as he gently sat down. “We can wait, there’s no hurry”

“I need to sleep”

“Don’t you always,” Remus said and chuckled to himself.

“It’s not my fault I have to carry the weight of being the funny one of the group, it's tiring,” Sirius said.

Andromeda slyly walked up to them, and somehow knew that Remus was there.

“Hey, listen, I am sorry he isn’t supposed to be here, but I just needed you to feel...better you’ve been high strung ever since you got here,” She said, sitting across from him “I am sorry”

“You called him?”

“Yes, of course, I sent him a Patronus and as soon as he got it he apparated here”

“I really appreciate it, but I could have managed on my own” Sirius said, he felt the weight of everything Remus did for him, how he could never repay any of his favors.

“Hey, I know you could have managed it alone, but you shouldn’t have to, I like being there with you when you need me,”

Sirius wanted to see Remus, the more he spoke the more eager Sirius grew, but he felt the fatigue take over him, his eyes were heavy and he feared that if he didn’t lay down soon, he might pass out.

“I really need to lay down,” Sirius said.

“You could sleep in your room” Andromeda suggested, but the thought of going back to his room repulsed him and made the hair on his neck stand up. It will only be a couple of hours, he told himself, he just needed to sleep for a couple of hours.

“You’ll stay right?” He asked Remus, half expecting him to stand up and leave.

“Yes, of course, love,” he told Sirius instead.

Sirius leaned heavily on invisible Remus, “why do you always smell so good”

Remus only laughed “You know I love you right?” he whispered, Sirius knew, and it still surprised him, that this boy was his to love, and keep. “I know” he whispered back.

“Let’s go,” Sirius said, and Remus draped the Invisibility cloak over both of them.

Still leaning heavily on Remus, they made their way out of the brightly lit ballroom, into the gloom that was the rest of the house, the floorboard creaked under their feet, but Sirius doubted that anyone could hear them over the loud music. They made their way up the stairs.

When they finally reached his room, Sirius’s hand rested on the cold doorknob, unsure of whether or not he wanted to see his childhood flash before his eyes.

“I’m here” Remus whispered, “I won’t let them hurt you, Sirius”

He decided to rip the bandage off and stepped in.

It was just like he remembered it, all walls bare except for a few punk rock posters to bother his parents, and black splotch on the walls where his mother had once slammed his mascara bottle.

“Wow, I still hate this place,” Sirius said pulling Remus in.

Remus shut the door behind him and let his cloak slip to the ground. His hair was tousled, and his cheeks red from the heat, he looked an unlikely sight against the backdrop of his room, Sirius smiled to himself and threw his arms around Remus.

“Hey” he whispered into his neck.

“Hey,” Remus said, planting a kiss on Sirius’s temple.

“I missed you”

“We met this morning, but me too”

When they pulled away, Remus threw himself on the bed, and it made an unwelcome sound. “I hope I didn’t break it”

“I hope you did, mother will be pleased to find the bed broken,” Sirius said and smirked.

“Wow, this room looks nothing and everything like you,” He said.

“Yeah please elaborate on that” Sirius said as he got in the bed beside Remus.

“I mean, there’s this 16-year-old guy desperately trying to rebel against his abusive family, while still trying to keep who he is to himself,” Remus said, and Sirius hid his face in the nook of Remus’s neck, “Your room, my love, is a story written in bare walls”

“You make it sound more poetic than it actually is, I only have bad memories of this place”

“Everything about you is poetic, how many times do I have to tell you?”

Sirius groaned against his neck, “Why are you being so cheesy”

“What!” Remus laughed “I love you”

“I love you too”

They both remained quiet for what felt like an eternity, Sirius’s consciousness giving in to his fatigue, Remus’s arms tightened around Sirius suddenly, and in his ear, he whispered “I am sorry you had to go through that, my love, I am sorry they taught you that it was difficult to love you when it is the easiest thing in the world”

A tear trickled down Sirius’s face, unannounced.

“I wish I could take away the pain, the memories that clog your view, the tremors in your skin” Remus continued, unaware the Sirius wasn’t asleep yet. “I wish I could rub the grief off of you as if it were a smudge on your cheek, but it's something you carry within you,”

Sirius tried to open his mouth to say something, but he didn’t trust himself enough, he would fall apart.

“I wish I could fill you, and this room with light that will fight off this darkness that lives inside of you”

Sirius couldn’t say it, because he was carried away by sleep, but Remus had filled this room with his smell, his words and above all the light that he carried within. When he closed his eyes, he no longer was chased by the monster under his bed or the ones that lay beyond his frail door, but his vision was full of a boy with Hazel eyes, looking down at him, and light-reflecting in his golden locks.

tagging some of my moootss

@momo-all-the-way @ithefriendlyneighborhoodasexual @crescentmoonsparkles @anxiousbimess

#wolfstar #wolfstar fanfic #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #wolfstar is canon #andromenda #sirius #remus #Sirius x Remus

33 notes · View notes

darksapphire29 · 4 years

Text

Missing

First story, so this is probably crap. But thank you all that take the time to read!!

WARNING: This story contains a VERY stressed Peter and a small-medium amount of violence.

You crept around the trees at the edge of the forest, stepping over roots and watching for sticks that look like they might snap. The crew of the Jolly Roger hurried to and fro across their ship, the large wooden thing bobbing up and down slightly with the tide.

You had been watching them for probably an hour, at least, and you still hadn't learnt why they haven't yet left. But something about the box being heaved across the sand intrigued you. It had taken three pirates to drag the black crate out of the forest. You, more curious than ever, were determined to discover its contents. And so, once they had finally gotten the mysterious item on board, you made a rash and idiotic decision: you snuck on.

You hid under a large wooden crate stacked upon barrels, wedging your thin but tall frame between them. It wasn't much of a surprise they hadn't noticed you. The pirates waltzed around without a care in the world, and you craned your neck in search of the mysterious box that encouraged your curiosity-motivated, completely improvised mission.

You heard hushed voices, their tone serious, the vibe eery yet solemn. You crept away from your hiding place, keeping low and close to walls, crates and barrels. Following your ears, you were lead through a door that didn't creak (thank Neverland) when you opened it. Tip-toeing down a short hallway, you could make out the Captain Hook's voice.

"Pixie dust? But Pan destroyed the island's supply."

You clenched your fists. You knew it wasn't Pan's fault. His shadow tricked him. Peter hadn't known where the dust grew, nor was he told where the Neverland fairies lived. Shadow knew, but it said nothing and didn't even help Peter while he tried to control his newfound magic.

"Ah, yes. But where does Pan get his supply?" You didn't recognise that man's voice. It was deep and hoarse, like he had been in a fire and taken in too much smoke.

When nobody replied, you figured Hook understood.

You stood in silence, your back pressed against the cabin walls. Endless questions prodded at your brain. Where did they get that dust? Was there anything else in that box? Who was that other man?

How would you get off this ship?

You had a sudden and stupid urge to peek through the door. You needed to see the dust for yourself. Surely that chest wasn't filled with dust? There must have been something else in there weighing it down. But just as you reached for the door, you felt a pair of large hands wrap themselves around your waist. They tugged you backwards until their chest engulfed your back, and they smelled of seaweed and dirty mop water. You thought to scream, but what was the point? You were on an enemy's ship, with enemy hands

Instead, you jabbed an elbow to their stomach. They winced and shoved you away, and you fell in through the slightly open door. Landing on your chest right at the feet of the stranger you had so eagerly wanted to see. They stared down at you with wide brown eyes and greasy blonde hair. The look in his eyes had a creepy and dark edge to it, and you shivered. Then, a large and crooked grin cracked across his lips, and you screamed.

***

Peter's feet dug into the soil as he paced. The golden flames danced across his face, and as he turned on his heel for the twentieth time, dark and ominous shadows crept across Pan's face. Felix watched his friend as his brows furrowed deeper with every step, his fists clenching in time with his pace.

"Pan, stop. (Y/n) is fine." Felix tried, but Peter's jaw only clenched in anger and Felix visibly recoiled.

There was something up with the pirates, that morning. Every full moon, they would leave just after the sun rises, but today, they were still docked not far off from the lagoon. But Peter couldn't care less about why the pirates were still there. They could stay on Neverland forever and he honestly wouldn't mind.

It was you he couldn't stop stressing over.

He had sent you to spy on those pirates, figure out what was wrong, and you had yet to return. For the first few hours, Peter knew you would be fine. You were a fighter, and a bloody brilliant one, too. But then, as the sky began to darken, and the first few stars peered out from behind grey clouds, all Peter could do was think about whether you were alright.

"That's it," Peter turned once more, but this time towards the forest. "I'm going after her."

Felix was quick to stop him. "Pan, no."

Usually, Peter would growl at something like that. Nobody told Peter Pan what to do. But deep down, he knew better than to just storm off into the woods.

He snapped at Felix anyway.

"I can't just sit here and do nothing! Those bloody pirates are up to something and they need to pay." He seethed. Felix opened his mouth to reason with his leader and friend, but something shrill cut him off.

A scream.

Your scream.

And just like that, Peter vanished.

***

The blonde man ripped you from the ground and slapped you once across the face. The sound of his skin hitting yours echoed through the small room, and the sting ceased your cries. Out of the corner of your eye, you almost missed Hook flinch.

Before you could process anything, the stranger grabbed you roughly by the arms and shook you until your stomach churned.

"Why were you spying?" Spittle flew from his mouth and you closed your eyes, refusing to answer. "Look at me, girl!" He shook you again, this time slamming you against a wall. You glared at him.

"Who is she?" The man questioned Hook.

"I believe this is Pan's favourite toy." The codfish mocked you, and you almost snapped at that.

"You work for Pan?" After a few seconds, reluctantly, you nodded. Just once. But it was enough. The still-nameless blonde jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "Where's the rest of it?" You stared at him in confusion for a moment. How would you know? Wasn't there enough, already?

You turned your gaze to Hook, and he looked almost as clueless as you. Your eyes locked, and you almost found something in his eyes. Something that looked painfully similar to pity. But you didn't want his pity, so you forced yourself to look back at the man digging his nails into your arms.

"I don't know. I hadn't even seen that stupid chest until today." You snapped, burning holes into the man's face with your (e/c) eyes. "That's why I'm spying. I was curious. And what a bloody mistake that turned out to be..." You chuckled, and the man slammed you roughly into the wall again. The wood groaned against the force of his shove. You hissed.

"Where's Pan? What's all this dust for?" You didn't speak. You didn't know. Looking at Hook again, you wished he would do something. He shook you once more. "WHERE IS PAN?!"

***

Peter appeared right outside the ship, and your scream was suddenly louder and cleared than before. His heart clenched at the sound, until it was abruptly cut off and he swore his heart had shattered. With shaking hands, he flew up onto the Jolly Roger, and attacked every pirate on board.

"Where's (y/n)?" He had demanded every one of them, but not one knew you were even on the ship. Then, Peter heard an unfamiliar yell, and he knew exactly where you were.

"WHERE IS PAN?!"

"Right here, of course." Peter popped out of nowhere, leaning against the doorway with a smirk and a dark look in his eyes. They were murderous, and when he looked at you, pressed against the wall with a bruise on your cheek and tears in your eyes, his jade eyes were instantly black.

Peter appeared in front of the man, holding him high off the ground by his neck. Strangled chokes came from his mouth, and Peter frowned.

"Who are you?" The man managed a smile, but Peter squeezed harder. "I asked you a question."

You pulled yourself off the wall and bent over the chest. Inside it was green sand, but you knew it was more than that. Your fingers brushed over the lid, and you found the letters RM carved into the wood. You rose a brow.

"Where did you find this?" You questioned, and Peter turned around to look at the box. You watched him for any signs of recognition. He had no idea what it was.

"What is that and why have you brought it here?" The man refused to answer, and after another minute, Peter twisted the man's neck with a single pop.

The two of you stood alone in the now quiet room, and you wondered when Hook left. Peter scanned your face, his gaze lingering over the spot you had been slapped. In two strides he was beside you, and he wrapped his arms around you.

A shaky sigh escaped his lips, and you finally allowed yourself to cry. "Shh, it's alright now, love." Peter soothed, stroking your (h/c) hair and rubbing circles into your back. He pulled away from you and kissed your cheek. "I was so worried, love, when you didn't come back..." He stroked your bruising cheek with his thumb, and you winced. "Sorry. What did he want?"

You shrugged. "More dust, but I don't know where he got it from." Peter nodded, before he hugged you again, and you smiled.

"Don't go missing for so long ever again."

#ouat #peter pan #peter pan x reader #peter pan imagine #fluff #missing #very stressed peter

131 notes · View notes

help-im-a-gay-fish · 4 years

Text

The Birth of Sun and Moon. Part three (final)

Part 1, Part 2 baby blues

The following in part 3 of 3 of a piece of writing about the birth/spawning of the Dark-Cream ship kids Celestial star and Luna light.

This takes place in a universe separate to @zu-is-here cream story and splits of somewhere around 'the price of happiness'. Any continuity errors should be accepted as being part of an alternative timeline.

Please excuse any grammar or spelling errors, I've proof read it.

Synopsis a few hours after the 'birth' it is time for Dream to confront the reality of the situation. Will he tell Cross how he feels about them?

Shattered didn't wake till much later.

Sleeping seemed to have made most of his pain fade. It was replaced with a low and bitter ache which ran through his bones. Despite the pain, he felt much better now. His soul had been given a chance to rest and it was calm again.

He didn't want to wake up really. The peace of sleep had given him a break from everything and unfortunately as he became more aware, the pain became worse again. Looks like it hadn't faded as much as he'd first thought. Even if it was more of an ache then anything else it was still a bad one.

Eventually, he opened his eye-sockets and looked at where he was. How long had he been asleep? He felt the squish of the pillows of the sofa beneath him, as he pushed himself onto his elbow.

The sofa? The last thing he remembered was being sat next to it. Cross must have put him there after he fell asleep. He let himself smile a little, Cross could be so thoughtful sometimes. Speaking of which, where was Cross?

He looked around the white void, there was no sign of him.

Dream flopped back down, feeling the sofa sag slightly as he did. What a day.

He stretched and clicked his bones. His back hurt more then normal, but all of him hurt.

As he stretched his legs out he felt his foot brush against something. He stopped, pulled him foot away and looked over.

There they were. The twins.

He'd sat up with a start and tucked his knees into his chest. The hell?

Cross' jacket was wrapped up in a little pile and the two where nestled within it. They were peaceful and breathing slowly.

Everything seemed to hit Dream and at once. Cross had left them here? Why would he do that! What if he'd had another nightmare and kicked his legs out? Anything could have happened....

Dream had his eyes once again locked on them. The gloop was gone and he could now see them clearly. One had already formed a proper body around it, a tiny little skeleton with small star shaped freckles covering its bones. The second was still in blob form. It was a bright golden orange and its tiny sparks curled in the air around it.

Something felt wrong. For the smaller there was a slight tinge of grey mixed in with the orange and for the other the bones seemed duller or stained a slight black in places. Dream couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't right. Their energy wasn't right.

He pulled his gaze from them. He still felt nothing when he looked at them. Surely he should feel something by now. He was their... their parent after all........But- nothing.

Frustration boiled within him. If he couldn't feel anything for them then what was the point!? Why should he have to care for kids he did not want!? He wanted them gone. Plain and simple. That's all. He didn't want them.

But Cross did.

Cross had been so happy.

His frustration faltered. He'd been so, so very happy..... There was no way to get out of it was there?

He jumped at the sound of a portal opening and closing behind him. Cross was home. He turned his head slightly.

Cross had a few bags with him. Clearly containing all sorts of things. Probably baby stuff. Dream looked away from him.

Cross set the items down and looked over. Then seeing that Dream was awake, he happily walked over.

"hey Day dream, you're up"

Dream didn't respond.

Cross carefully sat in between Dream and the twins. He looked at the two babies and smiled. Then he turned his head to his fiancé.

"are you alright? How do you feel"

"....."

Dream turned again and lay back against the sofa.

"why did you leave them with me? While. I. Was. Sleeping.?"

His voice was bitter and cold. Cross hadn't heard a tone like that from him in a while, he was upset. Uh oh.

Cross sighed "I...uh...i figured that I needed to get supplies for the babies, and they are too small to take au hoping"

Shattered grimaced and gripped the fabric of the sofa with his hands.

"I. Was. Sleeping. Cross!" he said with his frustration bubbling again.

"I'm meant to be the naïve one! Do you have any idea how stupid that was!?"

Cross didn't reply and twisted his locket in his fingers absent mindedly. Dream was right of course. It was not a good idea to leave a sleeping person alone with two new borns against their consent. But at the time he didn't think that he had much of a choice.

"CROSS! are you even listening to me!?"

Letting go of the locket, Cross looked at him again. Dream was truly angry. He hated to upset him.

"you are so impulsive! This isn't the first time you have done something without thinking!"

"Dream I was only trying to-

"this is all your fault! This is way to much! I never even wanted-

Dream was cut off now by Cross pulling him into a kiss.

No! Hey! He was mad at him! Why....

Dream felt himself melt again. Dam it! Why did he always do this.

Cross palled back and gave him a shy smile.

"I'm sorry I really am..."

Shattered groaned and tried to hide his blush. But it was a bit to late for that.

"why must you always kiss me when I'm trying to yell at you?"

Cross chuckled. Good times.

Dream, who was trying not to smile himself, punched him playfully in the arm.

"stop laughing it isn't funny!"

This just made Cross laugh again.

Dream poked his tongue out and folded his arms "I'm still mad at you".

Cross smiled "yeah.. I know". He leaned in a nuzzled his lover "but you know you love me".

Dream smiled, sighed and nuzzled him back "yeah I know".

Unfortunately the happy moment was interrupted by the sound of crying.

The two pulled apart quickly.

"oh the twins are crying" Cross said turning to them.

Dream felt himself freeze up at the mention of them. What did they want now?

Cross carefully scooped the bundle into his arms and rocked it.

"shh shh it's ok"

Dream just stared numbly.

Cross smiled again as the two calmed down again. He stroked the larger slightly with his finger.

"they truly are perfect aren't they." he said softly.

"i-I..." was all Dream could muster in way of a response.

No he still didn't feel anything.... Was he broken?

".... Dream what's wrong?"

"......"

He felt Cross gently cup his cheek with his hand. Dream nuzzled his hand and twisted the ring on his finger.

"Crossy... I'm"

He had to at least try to get him to understand.

"I'm.. just not sure I can do this... I mean look at me."

Cross rubbed his thumb across Dreams cheek. Feeling the gloop squelch as he did so. But he was used to it by now.

Dream sighed "I... I thought you didn't want kids... And.. I'm scared again"

He looked down at his ring and continued to play with it. Cross pulled his hand away.

".... I understand Dream..."

Shattered looked up.

"... But we can do this together, right?"

Dreams heart sank. He couldn't make Cross chose and even if he could he was too afraid to hear the answer.

Cross' emotions were all over the place, Dream could sense that. But one thing he could sense above all was dread and fear. He was afraid Dream was going to ask him to give them up.

In truth Dream would have, in that moment he wanted to. He just wanted to pretend this all didn't happen. But he couldn't, but he just couldn't do it. So instead he swallowed.

"o... ok.." he said quickly taking Cross' hand and squeezing it. "together...."

Relief washed over Cross like a wave. Thank goodness. He kissed Dreams hand. "thank you my love"

A very slight smile appeared on Dreams face, but was gone again in an instant. Despite it all, he just couldn't shatter any more of Cross' dreams. But a twisted voice inside him was whispering....

"maybe you won't be the one shattering them in the end.... Don't you feel it? That energy, you know they won't last the year, his heart brake will be delicious"

He squeezed Cross' hand tighter and pushed those thoughts from his mind. He didn't want to think like that. Maybe if he tried harder to feel something for them, he would.

He shuffled slightly closer, and used his hand to pull back the edge of the jacket slightly. He stared. The baby's big silver eyes stared back. Bright and silver....

"like the moon...."

Cross tilted his head to him "what is?"

"it's eyes...."

Cross smiled "yeah... They are a bit...maybe we should call them moon"

Dream raised an eyebrow "moon? Well it's a better suggestion then an x name"

Cross poked his tounge out "what makes you think i don't have some x names planned?"

Dream gave him an eye roll "of course"

Chuckling, Cross said "well before we decide on names, Do you know the gender?"

Dream stoked his hand across the baby's cheek.

"girl"

Cross smiled again "I'm guessing it's an energy being thing?"

"........" Dream nodded ".... I might be wrong but I think they both are"

Cross nuzzled him again "two little girls...its perfect"

A small smile appeared on Dreams face again.

"I'm so glad.... I finally have a family" Cross said softly, as he continued to nuzzle him.

A family?

Something about that rang in Dreams mind for a second. His smile dropped.

You finally have a family?.... Finally?

"........"

I thought I was your family....

He pulled his hand back suddenly and quickly as if he'd burnt it and got to his feet.

No no no no....

he couldn't do this.

"Dream? Where are you going?"

Dreams paid no mind to his partner's voice. He simply turned.

I was finally happy... Why did they ruin it?

He felt his tentacles come out behind him. He hadn't formed them consciously... They had simply come out on there own.

Normally this would concern him... But he didn't care. He just didn't want to care.

I thought I was done feeling like this.

Cross shuffled away from him slightly. It was rare to see the tentacles out these days, and at this point they were swinging wildly, one very much almost flicked his face.

Its not like Cross could ever be afraid of Dream... But the sight of this made him nervous.

Is he scared of me?

Cross held the children closer to his chest.

"Dream... Are you ok-

"fine!" he snapped.

I'm sorry I didn't mean to snap at you.

Dream's body still hurt but he ignored it and folded his arms. He needed to get away from this. It was like a year of suppressed dark feelings where hitting him at once.

I don't know what's wrong with me..

"I.. I need some time alone... You stay here with your family"

I'm sorry.

And with that he left.

**************

And there you are. That's the set up for the twin's universe. I hope everything is still in character and reads well. Just in case anyone was confused, things written like this are Shattered's thoughts. Even if this was written in 3rd person tense, it is mostly from Shattered's POV, since its his emotions which are more intense in this moment.

Yes the tentacles are out, they are back because the negative emotions and thoughts are back. I've said in the past I believe the tentacles symbolise conflict, and here they still do.

Original cross and dream belong to jakei95 and jokublog

Original shattered dream belongs to @galacii

Dark-Cream comic and story is by @zu-is-here

Dark cream twins belong to me <3

74 notes · View notes

lancermylove · 3 years

Text

Shield (HC)

Fandom: BSTS

Pairing: Rindou x Reader, Maica x Reader, Mokuren x Reader, Qu x Reader

Warning: Mention of blood.

Requested by: @mokuchan

Prompt: Just wanna say I had another idea for another I guess hc-? like- Well its kinda inspired by threatened reader- Like the S/o saves (The persons name) by getting like shot? Or something???'-' Like the S/o just saw a man with a gun trying to shot their lover then they block it for them? Just gets a bullet in the chest 😔....I don’t want to make it sad maybe they sent them to the hospital?

A/N: Finally done! Took me long enough haha.

———————————————

Prologue:

"Let’s take a break.” He says and heads towards the nearest bench.

“Finally.” You smile and happily plop next to him, “Who knew shopping could be so tiring.”

He chuckles and takes out his phone. While your boyfriend is busy checking notifications, you scan the surrounding area and notice a couple sitting a short distance away. The woman seems to be telling a story, and from her smile, you deduce that it must be a happy one. Her lover is stroking her hair with a soft smile. Seeing their cute bonding brings a grin to your face.

Looking around a little more, you notice an elder man feeding pigeons. A group of kids playing hide and seek, and a middle age woman with a young Golden Retriever. You can’t help but smile at the cute dog who is too busy barking at a tree. His owner tries to calm him down by giving him a treat, but he ignores the woman and continues barking.

You slowly trace the Retriver’s gaze and stare at the tree but don’t see anything out of the usual. Suddenly, you feel a chill run down your spine. Narrowing your eyes, you notice something that resembles a gun.

‘Is that...? Why is it pointed towards...?’

Not thinking once, you jump out of your seat and step in front of your boyfriend. Bang. A sharp pain runs through your chest as you hear the screams of the people around you.

———————————————

Rindou panicked but somehow managed to get you to the hospital.

He didn’t understand why someone would want to shoot you; moreover, he had no idea what to do.

So, he decided to turn to the one person he knew would help him.

"Kei?" He sighed and told him what happened. "I don't know what to do..."

After a short silence, Kei spoke, "Rindou, take the next few days off and stay with her."

"T-thanks, Kei."

After hanging up, Rindou tried his best to stay strong for you, but his mind refused to cooperate with him.

What if you end up in a coma, like his sister? What if the doctor can't help you? What if...he loses you?

He held onto his head as tears spill onto his legs, staining his pants.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

Rindou sighed heavily and checked his phone to find text messages from Kei.

Kei: Rindou, stay at the hospital for the time being. Do not leave under any circumstance.

Rindou: Alright, but why?

Kei: That bullet was meant for you. Someone wants to kill you.

Rindou: Me? Why though?

Kei: That I don’t know yet. Someone will be montoring the hospital for suspicious activity so you should be safe there. Take care.

Rindou: I will. Thanks again, Kei.

Rindou closed his eyes and rested the back of his head on the wall behind him. 'Why does life like to give me so much pain? Everyone and everything I love is taken away from me. It's getting harder and harder to stay positive.'

A few hours later, the doctor walked out of the operating room and smiled at Rindou, "She will be okay. The bullet barely missed her heart. We managed to get the bullet out, and her life is no longer in danger."

Rindou placed his hand on his chest and smiled, "Thank heavens."

The next day, you woke up, your entire body aching.

Looking around the room, your eyes landed on Rindou. He was asleep with his head resting on your bed.

As you stare at him, you vaguely recalled his words. "Why did you take a bullet meant for me? What if something had happened to you? What would I have done? Please wake up soon, my love."

You smiled and stroked his hair, causing him to stir a little.

"I love you, Rindou, and that's why I didn't want anything to happen to you."

Though your body hurt, you shifted closer to him, "I will never leave you but won’t hesitate to shield you from a bullet again."

Taking hold of his hand, you slowly drifted off to sleep.

Maica was angry and wanted to break the shooter's face, but he wanted to get you to the hospital first.

While the doctors were operating on you, he called a private detective and asked him to look into this matter.

"Find the shooter ASAP," Maica clutched his fists into a tight ball, "They will pay for what they did."

After talking to the detective, Maica called Rindou, "Hey Rindou, an...emergency has come up, and I won't be coming to Starless for a few days."

"Is everything okay?" His team leader asked, concerned.

"I'll explain everything to you when I get back. I'll talk to you later."

The doctor came out after a few hours and told Maica, "She will be okay, but she needs to stay in the hospital for a while."

Maica thanked the doctor and entered your room. He took in your sleeping form and sighed, "You are...stupid for stepping in front of me."

He tried to hold back, but his voice cracked as tears streamed down his cheeks.

While waiting for you to wake up, Maica made a few more calls and arranged for a security guard to stand outside your room.

He stayed with you for the next few days but had to return to Starless, so he asked the guard to not let anyone enter your room.

When you woke up, you recalled what happened and almost panicked after not seeing Maica around.

Sitting up a little, you looked around the room to see bouquets everywhere.

A nurse walked in and smiled at you, “Ah, you are finally awake. If you boyfriend was here, he would be so happy. The poor boy has been waiting for you to wake up.”

She placed a glass of water on the nightstand and continued, “He seems to love you very much. You are very lucky.”

Mokuren is shocked to see you collapse, but it doesn’t take them long to realize the gravity of the situation.

At the hospital, not only were they upset, but Mokuren felt lost. They wanted to learn why you were shot and who committed such a deed, so they called their teammate.

“Hari.” Without wasting any time, they told Hari everything, down to the smallest detail.

“I’ll take care of finding the shooter. You just focus on helping her get better. If I find any information, I will message you right away.”

“Thanks...”

While waiting for the doctor to come out, Mokuren tapped their foot impatiently. They wanted to dance - dance away their stress and anger- but they couldn’t, not here.

Hearing the door to the operation theater open, they jumped to their feet and asked the doctor how you were.

“She’s out of danger, but she needs to stay at the hospital until further notice.”

Mokuren thanked the doctor and entered your room. They were thankful that you were okay, but they were still worried.

They waited for you to wake up for minutes, hours, days...

You slowly opened your eyes and stared at the ceiling, adjusting your eyes to the bright room.

“Hime...”

‘Moku?’ Moving your eyes towards the voice, you saw your boyfriend staring out the window.

They traced their slender index finger on the window, tracing a raindrop rolling down the glass. “Even the sky is crying for you.”

A small smile appeared on your lips, “And you?”

Mokuren shot their head in your direction and ran to your side, “Hime, you’re awake.”

They pressed their lips to your forehead, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay...and you? You’re not hurt, right?”

Their eyes softened. “I’m fine, but don’t ever do anything like that again.”

“Moku...”

Shaking their head, they pressed a finger to your lips, “Shh. You need to rest. Hurry and recover, alright?”

When Qu heard the gunshot, he immediately stood up and grabbed your hand, but when you don’t move.

“Hey, we-” He started to say but then noticed a blood staining your blouse.

He grabbed you from collasping and called the ambulance. “Please love, hang on.”

Qu tried his best to search for the shooter, but since people were panicking and running left and right, he couldn’t find anyone suspicious.

At the hospital, he called Maica and told him everything, “Please Maica, find out who shot her.”

“Wait, Qu...you said she stepped in front of you, right?” He continued after receiving a reply, “Wouldn’t that mean someone was trying to shoot you, not her?”

Qu was speechless. Why would anyone try to shoot him? He has no enemies...well, at least not to the level that someone would want to kill him.

Maica sighed on the other end, “Take care of yourself and her. Leave everything else to me.”

He once again tried to think of who could possibly want him dead, but no name came to mind.

“Excuse me?”

Qu got up and faced the doctor, “How is she?”

“The surgery was a success. She’s going to be alright.”

“Thank you, doctor. Um...” Qu looked around the area once before returning his attention to the medical professional, “Doctor, please do not let anyone else visit her. I suspect that her life may be in danger.”

The doctor nodded before excusing himself.

Qu agreed with Maica about the bullet being for him, but he didn’t want to take any risks.

Days had passed and Qu waited for you to wake up.

When you regained consciousness, you heard a someone singing your favorite song, but the voice stopped.

Turning your head to the side, you smiled weakly at Qu, “Please continue.”

Qu blinked away a few tears and gently hugged you, making sure not to touch your injury or the area around it.

“Qu, I’m alright. Are you okay?”

“How can I not be? Thank you for saving my life, but...please, don’t do anything like that again. Please...”

“I will if it means saving your life.”

Tears rolled down his cheek as he pressed his lips on your head.

“Now please continue singing.”

#bsts #blackstar theater starless #bsts qu #bsts mokuren #bsts maica #bsts rindou

53 notes · View notes

galaxywhump · 4 years

Text

Silence Is Golden

Trope: Mouth Stitched Shut Fandom: Original Work

[Masterlist]

[blue for requested, red for completed]

Timeline: set after Scars + Collared

cw: stitching mouth shut (graphic, no anesthesia), needles, blood, slavery, creepy/intimate whumper, drugging, paralyzation, noncon/dubcon touching and kissing, briefly referenced noncon, brainwashing, hopelessness, swearing, referenced branding, whipping and broken bones/hand injury.

taglist: @faewhump @inky-whump @garbagewhump @whole-and-apart-and-between @slaintetowhump @moose-teeth @whatwasmyprevioususername @procrastinatingsab @insanitywishes @special-spicy-chicken @redstainedsocks @luminouswhump @untilthepainstarts @lonesome--hunter @spookyboywhump @ohmywhump @renkocchi @whump-only

~~~

The muzzle is broken - the clasp won’t stay closed, and Daniel’s tampering achieves nothing.

“Piece of shit”, he mutters, tossing it to the floor and turning on his communicator. “Hope someone can drop by with a new one soon.”

Wren shivers, his initial relief at the prospect of being free from the muzzle for some time now dimmed by that of Berkeley visiting again.

“Any color preferences, sweetheart?”, Daniel asks like it’s the most natural question in the world.

“You know what?”, Wren says, raising one eyebrow with a smirk. “I do. Hot pink. The most obnoxious hot pink in existence.”

Daniel laughs, shooting him a brief amused glance.

“I think I’ll stick to black.”

“Then why’d you ask me?”

“Because I knew you’d say something hilarious like that.”

Wren puhs indignantly. With a crook of a finger, not even looking at him, Daniel urges him to come closer, and he obeys, crawling across the couch until he’s sitting right next to him. He fixes his gaze on the floor as he rests his head on Daniel’s shoulder, doing his best to relax despite the tension that makes his body twitch. The tension only increases when Daniel turns his head to the side to press a brief kiss to Wren’s hair; he grits his teeth until his jaw hurts.

He used to be torn between acting obedient and lashing out; now the dilemma has moved to another dimension entirely, leaving him suspended between fighting back until he’s pinned to the wall, and actively participating in Daniel’s understanding of a relationship. Sometimes the latter seems better. Less exhausting.

Daniel knows he’s pretending, but doesn’t seem to mind; he doesn’t seem bothered by Wren’s disbelief for his theory of destiny.

We have all the time in the universe, sweetheart.

All the time in the universe to brainwash him until he starts to believe he’s in love with Daniel Rooney.

Fucking gross.

Fucking terrifying.

“Such a shame”, Daniel sighs, turning his communicator off and wrapping his arm around Wren. “I really felt like seeing you muzzled today.”

“Isn’t that a fucking tragedy”, Wren hisses, shifting in the embrace, Daniel’s touch like sandpaper against his skin.

“But it’s okay, you know I’m patient.”

Wren swallows and closes his eyes when Daniel’s warm breath curls against his hair; he lifts his head and tilts is to the side. Their lips meet and Wren doesn’t resist when he’s pulled in closer, guided gently until he’s sitting in Daniel’s lap, facing him.

Gross, gross, gross, fucking creep.

He deepens the kiss. He can do that, he can kiss, imagining he’s somewhere else, back on Earth, in the arms of someone as drunk as him, someone he can just forget the next day save for the closeness of their lips, their body, the pleasant touch.

Daniel’s fingers work their way into Wren’s hair, long again. Daniel likes it more that way, but that doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter what he likes; what matters is that Wren feels a bit better with his usual messy hairstyle.

It makes him feel more like himself, and he desperately holds on to this meager piece of what he used to be like.

“You’re so beautiful”, Daniel whispers, breaking the kiss and moving one hand to brush his knuckles over Wren’s face; he leans into the touch with a forced smile, not saying a word. He doesn’t have to. “I love you.”

No you don’t, asshole.

Daniel’s eyes narrow and he tilts his head to the side, gazing at Wren’s face, visibly lost in thought. Wren frowns, his heart skipping a bit as he recognizes the spark in Daniel’s eyes, the spark of a new idea, a new way to make his life hell.

“What?”, he mutters, and with a pang of disgust leans in closer again, hoping to distract Daniel from whatever it is he has thought of. He knows Daniel has already set his mind on his idea - the kiss is brief and he’s gently pushed away.

“I think I know how to replace the muzzle today”, he says, brushing Wren’s hair away from his face, his gestures and tone a jarring contrast to the implications that make Wren freeze in horror. Daniel takes his hand, pushing at his chest to get him to get up before guiding him to sit down on the couch again. “Wait here for a moment, sweetheart.”

“Wait, maybe- maybe it won’t be needed?”, Wren suggests with a nervous smile, reaching to grab Daniel’s hands, but he just chuckles and shakes his hand off, giving him one more quick kiss on the forehead before leaving the room, heading upstairs, leaving Wren alone with his racing thoughts.

He stays put on the couch, folding his hands together in his lap and cracking his knuckles anxiously, frozen in place. He has no choice but to wait, no choice but to face whatever Daniel has in mind for him this time.

Something to replace the muzzle - so a gag, most logically. Daniel keeps a couple different ones in a drawer upstairs - Wren shudders, remembering getting acquainted with each one of them - so he might have simply gone to retrieve one that hasn’t been used before.

But he wouldn’t be making such a big deal out of that, would he?

He hears cheerful whistling and creaking of the stairs; his head jerks up at the sound, and his heartbeat picks up the pace when Daniel enters the room.

Empty-handed.

Daniel approaches Wren and crouches down, resting his hands on Wren’s knees and looking up into his eyes with an overwhelmingly open expression.

“I have something for you, but you’ll have to promise you won’t panic.”

Already off to a terrifying start.

“I’m already panicking, asshole”, he croaks, shaking, and Daniel reaches for his hand, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles.

“Just try not to panic. Can you do it for me?”

He glares, and Daniel sighs, reaching into his pocket.

“We’ll try something new today, but I’ll need you to cooperate.”

With that, he takes something out, and a wave of icy horror washes over Wren.

He has never considered a nightmare like that - but now that he sees the curved surgical needle and heavy black thread, somehow he knows exactly what they’re going to be used for.

“N-no”, he chokes out, scuttling to the edge of the couch, a sad excuse for escaping.

“Calm down for me, sweetheart, alright?”, Daniel says, his voice low and soothing as he stands in front of Wren again, firmly grabbing him by the shoulders.

“No, no”, Wren repeats, shaking his head, staring up at him with wide eyes, his breath catching in his throat as he throws a glance at the thread and needle again, phantom pain already prickling under his skin. “You’re insane, this is insane, you can’t- I- I’ll be quiet”, he changes the approach, anything to avoid being silenced like this. “I won’t say a word, or- or you can gag me, right?”

“Shh, sweetheart.”

He sobs, frantically looking around.

“Surely you have something to gag me with, right? I can find something myself, just please, please don’t do this-”

He tries to get up, but Daniel pushes down on his shoulder to keep him in place; he’s breathing hard, but the air doesn’t seem to enter his lungs, doesn’t even seem to be involved in the process, there’s just desperate wheezing, panic, dark spots before his eyes.

“Hey, hey, calm down, Wren, just calm down. I have something here that can help you, alright?” Daniel sounds worried, genuinely worried, as if Wren’s panic was irrational, as if it wasn’t caused by the nightmare he has come up with. He reaches to his pocket again and takes something out, a clear capsule.

“N-no, I won’t let you, you-”, Wren mumbles desperately, but there is nothing he can do to stop Daniel as he seizes his chin.

The capsule is forced between his lips and dissolves in an instant.

The drug does calm him down, his breathing slowing down, his vision clearing up again, the fear having no physical reflection anymore; but it’s not its only effect, as his entire body feels heavy and his movements as he tries to struggle become sluggish, slow. He sobs, shaking his head - a barely noticeable movement.

“That’s better”, Daniel whispers, taking hold of his hands and giving them a reassuring squeeze. “It’ll be okay, It might hurt a bit, but I won’t put you through more pain than necessary, I promise.”

“Nuh-hm”, Wren whines and sobs harder when Daniel lets go of his hands to thread the needle.

“You just need to trust me, sweetheart. I promise I’ll remove the stitches in a few hours.”

He’s answered with more choked sobbing, and he flashes Wren a warm smile, smoothing out the thread in his fingers. He then pulls one of the chairs closer to sit down in front of Wren, and grabs his chin, lifting his head up a bit.

“Nuh-no-” He wants to beg, to bargain, but he can’t speak up, helpless as the needle is positioned above one corner of his mouth, ice-cold. He closes his eyes, readying himself for pain he knows he can never be truly ready for.

“I’ll start now, okay?”

It’s like electricity spreading through his body, erasing the memories of branding, of whipping, of having his fingers broken one by one; it all pales in comparison with the searing pain when the needle pierces his skin and flesh all the way through until there’s an unpleasant, chilling sensation of it emerging in his mouth, then being brought around and under his lower lip, Daniel’s hands steady as he works.

“See? Just like that. I know what I’m doing, don’t worry.”

The feeling of the thread slipping through his skin makes him sick to his stomach, and there’s more sharp pain which turns to burning with another stitch. Daniel strokes his chin with his thumb in a soothing motion, and doesn’t stop his work for a second - a small mercy in his eyes, getting over with the sewing as fast as possible while remaining cautious not to mess it up.

To him, it’s love.

“It’s a shame I won’t be able to kiss you for a while”, Daniel laughs softly. “But it will be worth it.”

He stops for just a moment when a violent sob makes Wren shake.

“Shh, shh. Stay still.”

There’s three stitches now, pulling at his skin and sending radiating pain to his entire face; he opens his eyes, a wave of dizziness washing over him as he sees the needle, slick with blood, in Daniel’s hand, the thread taut, leading to his face, his mouth, slowly turning him into a grotesque piece of embroidery.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart, it’ll be easier.”

Like he’s stitching a wound, like he’s a medic rather than torturer; his words make Wren’s stomach turn, but he follows his suggestion - order, it’s always an order - and looks into Daniel’s eyes, sober and focused. He can’t help but whine when the needle returns for another stitch, but he stays still.

Tears of pure pain trickle down his face, his vision clouded, and Daniel keeps going, humming to himself to break the suffocating silence which, along with the dimmed lights and the chilling absurdity of the situation, makes Wren feels like he’s in a horror movie.

Alone with his captor in a house straight from the past, listening to his soft humming as the needle pierces his skin again, and again, and again, until it reaches the other corner of his mouth and is plunged in for the final stitch.

“There we go.” Daniel secures the thread, making sure it’s not too loose and will stay in place just like he left it. “It might swell a little, but shouldn’t scar.”

Somehow, Wren manages to glare at him. Daniel sighs, his usual exasperated but amused sigh of having to put up with Wren’s minuscule acts of defiance, and leans in closer to kiss his tear-stained cheek.

“I knew you’d look beautiful like this”, he purrs. “And I don’t mean to brag, but I’ve done a pretty awesome job.” He grins, and Wren grits his teeth, only half focused on his words, fixated on the pulling of the stitches, the way his lips twitch in pain.

Daniel sits down next to him and Wren finds himself being pulled closer until he’s lying down with his head in Daniel’s lap, looking up at him, occasional tears rolling down his temples. He still tries to scowl, and Daniel chuckles softly, his fingers ghosting over Wren’s face, one fingernail hooking under the stitches and giving the lightest of pulls that makes Wren tense up and whimper at the sensation.

“I love you, you know?”, Daniel whispers with a soft smile, letting go; Wren shudders, a wave of nausea washing over him when the stitches shift again.

No, you don’t.

“You’re just…” Daniel traces his finger over Wren’s temple, cheekbone, jawline, his gaze warm, yet encasing Wren’s heart in ice. “You’re so perfect.”

He closes his eyes, more tears escaping from under his eyelids.

He doesn’t want to be perfect for Daniel, he doesn’t want to be loved by him, he doesn’t want to be his lover, he doesn’t want, he doesn’t want, he doesn’t.

“I love you.”

You don’t.

“I know you’re still trying to deny it, Wren, but I do.”

You don’t. You don’t.

Daniel leans in and kisses Wren on the forehead; it’s delicate, lingering, so different from the desperate, drunken kisses from strangers.

He used to dream of being kissed like this.

He used to dream of those three words.

“I love you.”

You don’t.

“And one day”, Daniel whispers in a dreamy manner of a lover planning a future together, “you will love me too. And then it will all be so much easier for you.”

Wren trembles with a choked sob, enough for the stitches to rekindle the embers of pain.

“Just give it time, sweetheart, and then we’ll be happy. You’ll be happy here, I promise. I love you.”

You don’t, Wren repeats his internal mantra just to silence the screaming awareness that one day, when he loses his desperate fight to hold on to himself, Daniel’s promise will be fulfilled.

213 notes · View notes

halfway-happyyy · 4 years

Text

An Invisible String - Part 3

AN: This is something I’ve been working on for quite a while now, and it is a little different than my usual pieces. It will probably be about three or four installments. If you enjoy it (or even if you don’t) (I don’t do too many chaptered pieces… like, ever) please feel free to send feedback. Warnings include: mentions of suicidal tendencies, depression, anxiety, past mentions of domestic physical and mental abuse. Loosely inspired by the music video for ‘High Hopes’ by Kodaline.

Synopsis: Depressed, suicidal and recently single Alexander Skarsgård is at the end of his rope. But he is about to find out that no matter where you come from, what your pain looks like, or what your truth is… The universe will always fight for souls to be together.

Part 1 Part 2

Specific trigger warnings for this chapter: tw: mentions of past domestic abuse

Alexander Skarsgård had never been in the habit of letting fate amass space in his life. As far as he was concerned, which was not extremely far at all, everything that had happened to him thus far in his life was just exactly the way it was supposed to be. People left; it was something that he had grown accustomed to a lifetime ago. Maybe they ended up coming back, maybe they did not- regardless, it ceased to be his business a long time ago. He had made a silent promise to Thea that evening, under the glow of the pub lamp, and with her small hand tucked into his much larger one, like so many times in the past. He promised her that as long as he still had the air in his lungs, he would never chase another ghost again.

“Thank you for dinner this evening,” Thea smiled. Alexander watched her in the low light of the hallway lamp. Her hand was poised on the round, brass knob of the bedroom door and he found himself aching to ask her to sleep next to him. Though sex could not be further from his mind, the thought of having her lay next to him, the sheer warmth that would radiate off her seemed too sweet an opportunity to pass up.

Alexander bent his head toward her, a small smile pulled at the edges of his lips. “It wasn’t much I’m afraid, but it was nice to spend an evening with you, Thea.”

“Goodnight, Alex. Sleep well.”

He watched her disappear into the room, listened for the now-familiar sound of the lock turning on the other side. Though he wondered briefly why she was still in the habit of doing that, he could understand it better now. “Goodnight Thea.” Retreating to the stillness of his room, he sat perched on the edge of the bed while raindrops raced each other down the length of his windowpane. He let his mind wander back to an hour ago, to the secluded booth at the back of the pub. He allowed himself to revel in the feeling of her weight against him, of the tantalizing familiarity of it all. He remembered thinking that he could be content to stay like that for the remainder of his days. That if nothing else in the world made sense to him at all, she was the one thing that did. Eventually, when the rain had dissipated, he stood from the edge of his bed and rid himself of the days clothing until he was clad only in a pair of black briefs. Pulling back the edge of the charcoal comforter, he slid into the blissfully cool sheets and pulled the blanket back over his bare chest. He stared up at the darkened ceiling above him for what felt like hours, hoping in vain like every night, that sleep would come for him fast and deep. He could not be sure how long he was under before a blood-curdling scream ripped through the blanketed silence of the night. It roused him immediately and he shot up in bed like a cannon, his chest heaving under the duress of equal parts fear and adrenaline. A slick sheen of perspiration covered every square inch of his body as he fought to take a proper breath of air. Again, it happened, and his stomach dropped with dread. “Thea,” Tearing the covers from his body, he leapt out of bed, and tore open his own door, frantic and wide awake. “Thea, are you alright?” He pounded on her door and waited for a response. When he received none, he pressed his ear right up against the paint-chipped wood and listened carefully. She was sobbing so hard now, that she could barely get a proper breath in.

“No, don’t- Please, no!” She pleaded, her voice was raw from screaming, and painfully desperate.

“Thea, I need you to open this door right now.” Alexander’s voice was firm but teetered precariously on the edge of breaking. Again, another earth-shattering scream emanated from beyond the door and he knew immediately what he needed to do next. Taking a deep breath, he stepped back into the hallway and in one swift motion, came charging at it with his leg out. The door stood less of a chance than he thought and shattered from the lock and hinge on impact, swinging open and falling against the closet. His hand immediately went to the light switch to the left of where he stood, he flicked it on and squinted as it bathed the room in a soft, yellow glow. He was not sure what he expected to find when the light found her- was not sure if an intruder had made its way through Thea’s window now, or if they had broken in earlier. When his eyes adjusted to the light, he realized that she was alone. She was sat up straight in her bed, her legs curled up tight beneath her chin. Her shoulders shook silently under the weight of her sobs and Alexander immediately rushed to her side and threw his arms around her body. “Shh, it’s okay Thea, I have you.” He rocked her against him for an unknowable amount of time, placed periodic kisses to her temple and cheek. He tried to brush the tears from her face, but they were merely replaced by fresh ones moments later. “I’ve got you Thea. You’re safe with me.” He could not be sure how many times he repeated himself in the growing morning light. He just desperately needed her to know that he was there, that he was not about to go anywhere and that she was not alone. Thea eventually grew silent right around the time that her clock read ‘4:47 AM’, her soft, measured breaths told him that she had finally given in to sleep, and he was relieved. An hour passed after that, and he gingerly moved away from her to return to his own bedroom, but she stirred only slightly to say,

“Please don’t go.”

He hesitated in the threshold, but could hear the earnestness in her tone, could hear the precise fragility of it, and he nodded his head. “Okay, Thea.” Padding around to the vacant side of the bed, he slid in behind her and pulled the quilted blanket up over their bodies. Only when he was certain that she was asleep again, did he let his own heavy eyelids slide shut. His sleep, like most nights, was heavily fragmented by dreams broken up by the sound of Thea’s scream that he could not hide from no matter how hard he tried. When he awoke a few hours later, she was still fast asleep. A golden yellow sun shone through the cracks in the curtains above her bed and shone beams of warm light over her sleeping figure. Like this, it was difficult to imagine the terror that had plagued her only mere hours earlier. His gaze drifted from her hair, which cascaded down her freckled shoulders and stopped somewhere near the middle of her back. A small, dark shadow lay just beneath a piece of her hair that caught his eye. Alexander reached toward her to brush the hair away from her back, and swallowed hard. Bruises of all shapes and sizes scattered her back like a warzone. Some seemed about a week fresh, violet and utterly angry, while some were almost fully healed, the only evidence that they were there at all was in the faded yellow ring that that encircled them. He let his fingertips traverse the many bruises, but was careful where he touched her marred skin, for he could not be sure if they still caused her physical pain or not.

“It’s okay, Alex.” Thea whispered.

Alexander’s hand dropped from her back and he discovered that any moisture in his mouth had long since evaporated, and he swallowed hard again. “Did he do this to you?”

“I’m okay now, Alex.” Thea whispered again.

“This is so far from okay, Thea.” His stomach lurched, and he wondered briefly if he would be sick. He closed his eyes and took a few steadying breaths, and the moment passed. In its place, he considered for a second what it might feel like to wrap his fists around the neck of the man who had subjected her to this, to see the life slowly fade from his eyes… Alexander shook his head and cleared his throat. “This is not okay, Thea.” He repeated.

She rubbed a hand up and down the length of her arm slowly, as if to ward off a sudden chill. “I’m safe now, Alex. I feel safe here. With you.”

For now, and despite the immense trepidation that he felt, he would have to accept that.

“What do you feel like doing today, Thea?” They had risen for the day in silence and in separate rooms. Breakfast had also been a quiet affair, the urge to say anything had not plagued either of them. He was tired, but it was the kind of tired that seeped into his bones and made him weary of his own home. He thought that it might be beneficial for them both to have some reprieve from the house today.

She glanced up from the steaming cup of coffee in her grasp and shrugged. For whatever reason she had gravitated to that one cracked mug since she had arrived, and Alexander simply thought of it as hers now. “It’s a beautiful day,” She mused. “Reminds me of when my father used to take my sister and I to the beach.” Alexander followed her gaze out the window, at the glorious shade of blue of the mid-morning sky. He watched the trees in the backyard sway in the early June breeze, and thought for a moment that he might really like to be near the ocean today.

“Why don’t we go?” He asked.

She swallowed the last sip of her coffee, her eyes wide in mild surprise. “Beg your pardon?”

Alexander shrugged. “Let’s pack a lunch and head to the beach today.” He watched in awe as her face curved up into a wide smile, and he figured that maybe someday he would make a list of all the things he said that made her smile like that. “What do you say?”

“Sure, Alex.”

He lived about a two-hour drive from the beach in which Thea had referred to earlier, and he found that he was grateful to be able to put some mileage between himself and the unsavory morning that they had just endured. Though he remained proud of the house that he and his wife had once shared, he figured that he might like to sell it someday soon. That he would like to settle somewhere a little closer to Stockholm, somewhere a little closer to the comfort of his family. Thea had fallen asleep fifteen minutes into their drive and Alexander found that he had to fight to keep his attention on the road and on the traffic around him. She slept peacefully for the time being, which he was thankful for. When the vehicle trundled to a halt at a spot in the gravel parking lot thirty minutes later, he was surprised to see that it was mostly empty save for one or two couples scattered haphazardly along the shoreline. “Thea,” He murmured and rested a warm hand atop her forearm. When her eyes remained closed, he pressed a little further and gave her a small shake. “Thea, we’re here.” She inhaled deeply and as her eyes slid open, Alexander watched her pupils constrict against the sudden barrage of light. She smiled sleepily at him, and it was all he could do not to lean over and kiss her deeply.

“Hi, Alex.”

“Hello,” He smiled back at her. “You ready?”

She nodded her head and unbuckled her belt, letting herself out of the side door and stretching her arms high above her head. Alexander followed her suit, and grabbed a couple of towels, a thick checkered blanket, and the picnic basket from the backseat. He followed her down to an uninhabited stretch of sand where he shook the blanket out and watched the ocean breeze pick it up and carry it out before him. He settled it down over the sand and sat down, setting the wicker basket off to his side. His eyes slid shut as he raised his face to the heavens and inhaled deeply the briny scent of saltwater. To him, it was nostalgic and immediately comforting. Thea stood a few feet away at the water’s edge; she had one of his worn, blue beach towels draped loosely around her shoulders that billowed out behind her in the wind.

“God, it’s beautiful isn’t it?”

Of course, she was referring to the view before her; to the vastness of the Baltic sea as it stretched on for what felt like forever before her very eyes. But his only view now, and certainly the only one that really mattered, was of her solitary figure at the waters edge. “It sure is,” He murmured. He watched her approach the water with trepidation and though it was June, it was only just, and he knew that the temperature would be far from comfortable. “Go on then.” He encouraged her.

She turned back to him with a smile and let the towel fall from her shoulders. Alexander watched the wind carry it out a little further away, and finally set it down a few feet from where he sat. “This isn’t going to be like yesterday,” She giggled.

“Yeah? Well, we’ll see about that.”

She waded out a little further out into the ocean so that the water came up around the middle of her calves. “It isn’t warm.” She shivered.

Alexander laughed from his perch on the blanket. “Didn’t think it would be.”

“You don’t want to join me?” She asked with a wink.

Alexander glanced down at his jeans and shrugged his shoulders. “Would you like me to?”

She turned in the sand, and held a hand over her eyes to shield herself from the sun’s glare, and nodded her head. “As a matter of fact, I would.”

Alexander smiled and pushed himself up from the blanket. “Well alright then.” He stood in his spot and leaned down to roll up the bottoms of his jeans so that they sat snug just below his knees. He enjoyed the feeling of the sand between his toes, reveled in the feeling of the sun as it shone down on his back and basked him in a warm glow. He stepped into the frigid water without hesitation and joined her where she stood. For a moment he wrestled with himself on what he was about to do; the moment passed, and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, his hands falling to rest just below her sternum. He could not miss the way that her body immediately molded to his own, could not miss the contented sigh that exited her mouth as he held her to him. He placed a soft kiss to the top of her head and dipped his head lower so that his lips were mere inches away from the shell of her ear. “I’m happy that you found your way back, Thea.”

She turned in his arms, her gaze lingered on his lips, and then met his own and she smiled. “I’m happy too, Alex.” She reached up first, though it was difficult because her had feet begun to sink in the sand. Alexander tightened his grasp around her waist and held her to him as their lips connected in a kiss that had been in the works since the beginning of everything. It was the innate push and pull of a love that dwindled a lifetime ago, but never fully burnt out. She tasted so familiar to him that it caused an ache to twinge somewhere deep in his heart and he deepened the kiss. She had found her way back to him and he had no idea who to thank for it. They held each other for a long while, both equally needing the comfort that the embrace brought them. “Are you hungry? How about some food, hm?” Alexander felt her shiver against him, and rubbed his hands up and down the length of her freckled arms to create warmth. He smiled when he felt her nod her head against his chest. They walked hand in hand to the towel a few feet from the shore and Thea settled down to eat her sandwich in between the crook of his open legs. They had not packed much in the way of food; two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, a bag of multicolored garden-grown carrots, and two water bottles. It was enough, but Alexander found that his appetite for food was nearly nil. Instead, he was simply content just to watch her eat as he held her to him, his mind still buzzing from the kiss that they had just shared. She finished her food in silence and when she was done, Alexander cleared his throat. “Thea?”

“Hm?” She murmured.

“The situation this morning…” He could feel her stiffen against him and he winced. “You were dreaming about him, weren’t you?”

She hesitated before she nodded her head. “Yeah, I was.”

“Does that happen often?”

Thea started to wring her hands in her lap- a nervous habit that she had yet to outgrow. “More often than I’d like,” She admitted quietly. “Last night was the worst one yet, though.”

Alexander hugged her tightly to him, his lips ghosted the top of her head. “You’re safe with me now, you know, that right?” He pressed his lips to her cheek. “As long as we’re together- you’re safe. I would never let anything happen to you, Thea.”

She rubbed a hand reassuringly over the top of his forearm. “I know, Alex.”

They remained at the beach until the sun began to sink low over the Baltic sea, the shore now entirely void of everyone except an old man and his golden retriever. Alexander gazed at Thea from his spot at the blanket. The pockets of her jean shorts bowed out at the sides, bursting with the tiny treasures that she had stumbled across. He watched her pick up rocks of all different shapes and sizes, watched her run her fingers over the smooth ridges in scattered shells. Alexander watched the old man toss a piece of driftwood out into the ocean and his four-legged companion dive in after it, happily. A twinkle of familiar laughter sounded in the distance and he saw Thea drop to her knees in the sand, her arms wrapped loosely around the dog’s neck as he waggled his blonde tail in unbridled excitement. “Hi Max,” He heard Thea giggle. She exchanged a few words with the man and with a sincere goodbye, scratched the dog once more behind his ears and made her way for the blanket. “Did you see that dog?” She asked, breathlessly. Alexander did not think she had ever looked more beautiful. Her hair was windswept from the ocean breeze, her cheeks pink from the slight, early evening chill. But best of all, he loved the way her eyes twinkled merrily when she spoke of the new friend she had made.

“I did see that dog, Thea. He looked like the best boy.”

She beamed at him. “He was, Alex.”

Thea had fallen asleep on the ride home like Alexander had predicted that she would, and mid-sentence about the dog that she had just fallen head over heels for. He had hardly minded a bit, because minutes before she nodded off, she took hold of his hand in hers, and did not let go until the car glided to a halt in front of the house. “Thea, we’re home.” He murmured and placed a kiss to her temple. As he carried her half-asleep figure into the house, he wondered for a moment if maybe he ought to leave a little more room for fate after all.

#an invisible string #alexander skarsgard #alexander skarsgard x reader #alexander skarsgard imagine #alexander skarsgard au #drabble #writing #tw: mentions of domestic abuse #tw: depression #tw: anxiety #tw: suicidal #fluff #alex sstuff

45 notes · View notes

wordsablaze · 3 years

Text

Ch.10. Bemusing Blue

Blue Buttercup Almost like buttercups, it took Jaskier a lot of time and trouble to bloom and find his place in the world, but it wasn’t all so golden… (aka: yennefer was his mother way before he was jaskier)

A/N: i’m once again back with chaotic fluff but hey, there’s plot if you squint ?? @dauntless-hufflepuff-pride @mayastormborn

previous chapter

She doesn’t remember dozing off but her eyes snap open to the sound of a whimper.

“Julian?” she asks automatically, her arms tightening around him as she wakes up properly, ready to curse anyone who’s hurt him into oblivion. When he doesn’t reply, she glances down to find him shaking, his eyes squeezed shut and sweat glistening on his skin like little drops of rain.

“Julian?” she asks again, gently nudging him.

(She doesn’t know what to do other than be gentle.)

He only whimpers again in response and the small noise goes straight through the heart she didn’t know could still be so affected by such things. Sighing and praying that she’s not making a mistake, she uses her chaos to wake him up as carefully as possible.

“Yenny!” he sobs as he jerks awake, his eyes filling with tears.

(Her eyes are tempted to do the same.)

“Shh, little one, it’s okay. I’m right here, we’re okay,” she finds herself whispering as he melts into her touch, sniffling as he tries to stay quiet. She can’t understand why he’s trying so hard not to cry when all the children she’s seen in the past relish any opportunity to do so but she knows now is not the time to ask him about it.

“Stay with you,” he whispers back, his fingers curling into fists around the fabric of her dress.

(For once, she couldn’t care less about the creases.)

“Stay with me,” she agrees easily, slowly running her fingers through his hair as his breathing slows and he drifts off again.

It’s still dark outside so he lets herself relax once more, not quite willing to go back to sleep but also not willing to get up and leave Julian alone with his nightmares. In a strange, fleeting moment of disbelief, she wonders what Tissaia would say if she saw her now.

(She doesn’t care what anyone would say anyway.)

Yennefer stays exactly where she is until dawn breaks, at which point Julian stirs once again. He’d shifted in the last few hours to practically be sitting in her lap, his arms around her middle and his head resting just under her neck, so when he yawns and looks up at her, she can’t help but smile. “Good morning, Julian,” she murmurs, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

“The sun’s awake,” he mumbles through another yawn.

She chuckles. “Yes, it is. Do you usually wake up with the sun?”

“Sometimes we have to be awake for the moon too,” he replies, sounding as if he thinks she’s silly for even asking such an obvious question.

(His smile is the only thing worth being seen as silly.)

Yennefer hums, waiting until he uncurls himself from around her before standing up herself, stretching her arms and rolling the stiffness out of her shoulders and elbows. It’s only when she finishes stretching that she sees Julian copying her movements with a sheepish grin.

“Are you hungry?” she asks instead of addressing the way she wants to grin back.

He jumps upright, opening his mouth to reply but getting distracted as he wobbles and falls over, giggling as he bounces on the mattress.

Biting her tongue so she doesn’t interrupt his glee by laughing, Yennefer merely watches as he amuses himself by jumping up only to fall over and bounce onto his back, making a mental note to try her best not to kill the Lord who’d provided something that makes Julian so happy. She feels a bit like a fool as she waits for this child to finish playing, leaning against the wall with her arms folded, but since there’s nobody around to see it, she figures she can give him this opportunity uninterrupted.

(And give herself this opportunity uninterrupted.)

“Yenny, does this bedroom have jam?” Julian asks after a while, breathing heavily from the effort of literally jumping around.

“Bedrooms don’t have jam, Julian,” she replies, wiping the sweat off his forehead with her sleeve - an idea that would once have been unfathomable to her.

Julian frowns. “But you said bedrooms are where you keep you keep your favourite things!”

Yennefer nods as he climbs into her arms, locking his legs around her waist as she places an arm under him to steady them both. “They are. But food goes in the kitchen.”

“The kitchen,” he echoes, nodding. “Did you bring your kitchen?”

(She doesn’t know if she wants to laugh or cry.)

“No, little one, but this house has its own kitchen. We can go and ask if they have jam,” she tells him, missing out the part where she’ll figure out a way to acquire some herself if they don’t.

“And bread?” Julian asks, his head dropping to rest on her shoulder.

“And bread,” she confirms, biting her tongue again so she doesn’t offend him by accidentally laughing.

He nods and just as she starts moving, asks, “Do you think the sun likes jam?”

Yennefer pauses, using one hand to lean against the wall as she ruins her plan not to laugh, unable to stop it this time but unwilling to risk dropping Julian no matter what. Once she’s recovered and he’s looking up at her with furrowed brows, she nods at him. “I don’t see why not.”

(She does but indulging him is far better than explaining why.)

She knows she’s made the right choice when he nods happily, wrapping his arms around her neck and fiddling with her hair. There’s a part of her that doesn’t want to leave their room like this but she figures it’s too early for most people to be awake and she’s powerful enough to convince any servants that see her not to say anything unless they want to lose their tongues.

And so they make their way down to the kitchens where they do in fact have enough jam for Julian to enjoy two servings of breakfast.

(Stupidly enough, Yennefer just enjoys his enjoyment.)

“Is he okay?” one of the maids asks Yennefer, “He looks a little pale.”

Resisting the initial urge to punch the other woman for potentially insulting him, Yennefer just nods. “He didn’t sleep too well.”

“Nobody sleeps well here,” the woman sighs.

“What?” Yennefer asks, now more curious than anything.

The maid looks a little guilty but shares a glance with her friend before nodding solemnly. “None of us have slept well for the last few years.”

It can’t be coincidence that Marcio’s mage friend had died just as their nights had become uncomfortable, it just can’t. “I’ll look into it,” Yennefer promises.

The woman smiles at her gratefully. “Thank you. We’ll find some more jam for your son by luncheon.”

The words don’t even register at first but by the time she realises she should correct that assumption, the maid has already disappeared somewhere and she’s left frowning at thin air.

(She’s almost glad she hadn’t had to explain what exactly he is to her.)

“Aren’t you hungry, Yenny?”

She blinks, pulling herself back into the moment as Julian holds up a piece of bread to her. She’s not really that hungry but she can’t exactly refuse, can she?

“Thank you,” Yennefer says sincerely as she bites into the bread, almost surprised to find jam on it; the very idea of him so easily sharing something he loves with her comes as a surprise.

He beams at her, one of his hands sliding into hers when he finishes his own food. As the jam on his fingers makes both their hands sticky and he freezes, offering her a guilty smile that’s immediately followed by a delighted giggle when she magically cleans their hands, she absently wonders if this is what actually having her own son would be like.

(Too bad she’ll never get to find out.)

i'm sorry but soft parent yen is my jam (ha, get it?) so i'm self-indulgently milking it, hope that’s alright <3

thanks for reading !! masterlist | witcher blog: @itsjaskier | next chapter

#yennefer of vengerberg #fluff #the witcher #fanfic #soft yennefer #parent yennefer #young jaskier #protective yennefer #hurt jaskier #domestic fluff #canon who?#jaskier #my writing #bbu #i don't even control this julian anymore #he's just out here being smol and soft #it's fine bc yennefer gets some of the love she deserves this way :)

16 notes · View notes

secretobsessionstuff · 4 years

Note

Ooo! I have a request! Maybe Alexi comes home from work in the pouring rain because he forgot an umbrella and had to wait in the rain for a while and he’s just really feverish and cold when he finally gets home, and falls into Micah’s arms. After he warms up he falls asleep on the couch, but then, he wakes up abruptly and is sick all over himself and the couch, and Micah is there to just help him through it! You can choose how it ends but yeah! I think this would be cute!!

Enjoy another medically inaccurate sickfic in which I blend the symptoms of a cold and the stomach flu!

Alexi hated the bus with a passion. He hated the inconsistent schedule, the flock of weirdos one was sure to find on public transport, and the 45-minute-long commute that would have taken 15 minutes in a car. Tonight, he was particularly mad at how late the bus showed up. There he was waiting in the pouring rain, using his light jacket as an umbrella, and hopping from foot to foot trying to keep warm. It was in vain though because an unnatural chill clung to his skin. He could feel the goosebumps on his arms as he kicked himself for not wearing warmer clothes. It wasn’t supposed to rain that day, but alas the sky had darkened, and the clouds burst opened.

A shiver and rainwater ran down his back, making him feel miserable. Also, he was already feeling pretty miserable even before a ton of rain fell on him. The prospect of getting on a damp and crowded bus made his stomach growl in sync with the thunder. When the bus finally arrived (14 minutes late!!), he wasn’t sure if he was happy to see it or not, but he got on because fuck the rain, and fuck his immune system, and fuck the entire concept of time. Time didn’t exist but he sure as hell felt it pass during those long non-existent minutes.

The bus wasn’t too crowded, unfortunately it wasn’t too warm either. He still shivered and wrapped his arms around himself once he found a spot to sit. He hugged himself partly because he was cold and partly because his belly really wasn’t feeling well.

Through the magic of fevers, Alexi closed his eyes for two seconds and when he opened them, he was home! He could have gotten jumped during that entire bus ride and it was all thanks to his brain’s ability to slip into a fever-induced trance. That didn’t happen though. What did happen was at the very moment when he opened his eyes, he felt his stomach churn nauseatingly. He staggered off the bus and somehow persevered through the short walk home.

The rain was freezing cold, making the goosebumps travel up his neck and into his face. He was almost home and just wanted to face-plant into Micah’s shoulder. Crying also sounded pretty good in that moment, only because the rain would hide the tears, also because life wasn’t being very fair. Sure, he slept at his desk most of the day, and yeah maybe he lashed out at his coworkers, but that didn’t mean he deserved to get caught in a downpour.

The universe made it up to him though by giving him the perfect boyfriend. As soon as Alexi walked through the door, dripping wet and soaking the floor, Micah cooed and ran over to him.

“Why didn’t you call me, Lex?” Micah said as he helped Alexi take off the wet jacket. The sleeves stuck to his skin when Micah pulled at them, making the whole jacket turn inside out. Neither boy cared.

Alexi’s response was a wet sneeze and a moan. His wet hair fell into his eyes as his head fell forward from the sneeze. Sad soggy strands of golden curls stuck to his forehead, looking like limp noodles. If they were noodles, Alexi’s fever would have cooked them against his skin. Micah pushed aside the wet hair, and in doing so, felt the heat coming off his boyfriend.

“Oh baby, you’re on fire,” Micah said as he pulled Alexi into a hug. It was like hugging a vibrating space heater because Alexi shivered uncontrollably.

“I – I don’t f-feel well,” he stuttered, his bottom lip quivering.

Micah grabbed Alexi’s hand and led him away from the door. “Come on, let’s get you in dry clothes.”

“But I’m tired.” Alexi pouted and felt himself be compelled towards the nearest place to crash. He spotted the couch and made a beeline for its soft cushions.

When Micah looked back, Alexi wasn’t following anymore. Instead, the boy threw himself on the couch and grabbed a blanket to hug. “But don’t you want to get warm?”

Alexi shook his head and closed his eyes. “I just want to sleep.”

This wasn’t the direction Micah wanted to go in, but he didn’t think he’d have much luck talking to his boyfriend. The boy was so out of it, and had already begun snoring due do congestion. Micah let out a frustrated sigh. Okay he could work with this. He just needed to get Alexi into dry clothes.

It took about ten minutes, but finally Micah managed to slip off Alexi’s soaking wet socks, and exchange them for a fluffier pair. He again turned Alexi’s pants inside out as peeled them off his wet body. Baggy grey sweatpants took their place. Finally, a fresh t-shirt that smelt like dryer sheets replaced his work shirt. He could do nothing about his hair but eventually that dried on its own in a crazy knot. While Micah struggled to do all this, he was acutely aware of the fever burning through every inch of Alexi’s skin.

When all that was done, Micah fell into the chair next to the couch. He didn’t want to leave Alexi alone in case he woke up and decided to spontaneously combust, so he just scrolled through his phone for an hour. Occasionally, Alexi mumbled in his sleep which Micah would think is cute if it weren’t being caused by a virus. But the mumbling suddenly stopped when Alexi jolted awake.

He wasn’t sure what had woken him up, but for a millisecond Alexi was aware of the intense nausea overwhelming his senses. Before he had a chance to react of say anything, he shot up and promptly vomited all down his torso. A fountain of pale puke gushed from his mouth, coating his chest and part of the couch in a sickly smelling bile.

Micah practically dropped his phone on his face out of shock. The first thing he heard was the gurgling retch that tore up Alexi’s throat before seeing his boyfriend lurch forward. Out of instinct, he stood up in a rush, not really sure how to help. The damage was done and now the only thing he could do was pat Alexi’s back while another wave of sick forced its way up.

“I’ve got you. You’re okay,” Micah said while keeping Alexi’s shoulders steady.

It was incredibly disorienting to wake up and to suddenly be heaving. Alexi felt dizzy and lost, unable to catch his breath or focus on anything other than the pain in his belly. He could feel the slow circles being traced on his back which helped him a little, but he still felt like utter crap. A sick belch burbled up from his stomach, bringing with it a small stream of bile that Alexi let fall from his mouth.

“Désolé…” he mumbled with his head hanging low and saliva clinging to his lips. He wasn’t sure why he was saying sorry, but it felt like the only thing he could do. He couldn’t hold his head up, he couldn’t stop his body from shivering, he couldn’t even find English words.

“No, no, that’s okay,” Micah said, wondering how he was going to clean this all up. Such clean clothes now had to be thrown in the wash after being worn for an hour. But none of that mattered, at least not yet. He gave Alexi the chance to catch his breath and allow his stomach to settle before moving him. What he originally thought was just the flu, had suddenly turned into something worse. He needed to fix this right now. “Alright, can you come with me to the bathroom?”

Alexi nodded weakly and followed Micah. His vomit-soaked shirt stuck to his stomach and was a pain to take off. He just stood in the shower while Micah undressed him apparently for the second time that day. His dirty clothes remained in the bath with Alexi got hosed off in lukewarm water.

“I’m almost done,” Micah said as he passed the showerhead over Alexi’s bloated belly. He was back to shaking now that the cold water ran off his arms, so Micah tried to be quick.

It came as another surprise to Micah when Alexi, with his head fallen forward, opened his mouth and burped up a weak stream of frothy vomit. A shallow heave caught in his chest as he retched in the tub.

“Oh, babe,” Micah said as he washed the sick down the drain, “your belly must be so upset.”

Alexi nodded, sending little droplets of water falling from his hair. “Make it stop.”

“I will,” Micah foolishly promised as he turned off the shower and wrapped Alexi in a towel. “We’ll get you in bed and all of this will be over.”

“But, but I –”

“Shh,” he whispered while helping Alexi into pajamas and drying his hair in a towel. His hair came out looking like a lion’s mane but at least it was dry. “I’ll put a bucket on the floor, and I’ll be next to you all night.”

And Micah kept his promise, never once leaving Alexi alone in the bed, even when the boy fell into a deep sleep.

#emeto #emetophilia #sickfic #Alexi #Micah #fever #vomiting #puking #my ocs #flu #stomach flu

79 notes · View notes

yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

Ready, Willing, Cain and Able

[Wing AU; UK Tour]

my long-awaited part for the art-writing trade i did with @thenicestnonbinary! they requested their Sixtended OC, Anya, and tour!Joan interacting in the wing AU! i hope you like it!

Word count: 2017

------------------------------

Anya found her in the dressing room, which didn’t exactly shock her. The music director made that room into her own nest of sorts, barely leaving it for several hours at a time. And you weren’t supposed to intrude on an avian’s nest, but Anya just couldn’t sit by and let the girl work herself to death. Everyone else was already gone, so she had to put on her big bird pants and be the mature hen in the situation.

“Joan?” She called into the room.

The figure at the desk didn’t look up, though one of her big yellow ears did swivel around to her.

“What are you still doing here?” Anya asked as if it wasn’t already obvious.

“Working,” Joan answered, still not looking up.

“It’s getting late.”

“I know.”

“You should go home.”

“No.” Joan ruffled the feathers on her wings. “If I go home now, then I don’t finish my work and the director will get mad.” She touched the side of her head. “Yeah… He’s very annoyed with me.” She then did quite an amazing impression of their burly screech owl director, “‘Joan, I told you to get those mixes done! Our TV premiere is in two weeks! If you can’t get this done, then maybe I should just replace you!’”

Anya almost laughed at the mimic, but then heard the final comment and frowned. Did Joan really think he would say that to her?

Oh, She then realized. Joan was using her future sight.

“I doubt that’ll happen,” Anya said, walking closer.

Joan snorted but didn’t say anything.

Anya peered over her shoulder at the mix she was attempting to write. The text was very neat, which might have been why it was taking so long. She clearly didn’t want anything to be messy. Perhaps it was to prove herself to everyone, that a hybrid could do efficient work as any other tribe could.

It was sad that she had to do that. That some people may not take her seriously just because of the way she looked.

“Well, if you aren’t going to go home,” Anya pulled up a chair beside Joan, “I’ll just keep you company.”

Joan glanced over at her but didn’t argue with her decision. She merely folded her ears down and continued writing.

For a long moment, there was just silence between the two of them. Joan didn’t seem very interested in talking, and Anya didn’t know what to bring up with her.

“Have you eaten yet?”

Joan looked up, slightly surprised. “Oh, umm…” She fumbled, and Anya already had her answer. “Uh. No.”

Anya frowned. “You need to eat.”

Joan shrugged. “Not hungry.”

“I can go get you something,” Anya offered. “You can eat and then go home and rest.”

Joan ruffled her feathers. “No. I’m not sleeping until I finish.” She paused for a moment. “But you can go get food. If you want.”

“What if we go together?” Anya said. “Have you ever hunted before?”

Joan shook her head.

“Come on, then.”

It took some convincing, but Joan eventually peeled herself away from her work and Anya was able to bundle her out of the theater.

Together, the two of them flew to an empty park field with some lamp lights still on. Anya stopped to hover and began scanning the field for any small animals with her enhanced Avem vision, picking up on the faint tracks of a squirrel. At her side, Joan’s claws twitched nervously.

“You can’t eat whatever we catch, you know,” Joan said.

“I do,” Anya glanced at her.

“Then why are you doing this?” Joan looked up at her. “You’re just wasting your time on me…”

“No, I’m not,” Anya said. “I offered, remember? Look, there’s the squirrel. Now, the first thing you want to do is--”

Before she could even get all the words out, Joan shot down from the sky and snatched up the squirrel with her front talons. She flapped back up to Anya, mercilessly snapping the little thing’s neck. Anya blinked at her.

“I thought you said you haven’t hunted before.”

Joan blushed shyly, looking down at her dead prey hanging limply in her hands. “It was just, umm, instincts. I guess.”

The little hybrid flew down to the ground to eat and Anya followed her. However, Joan just stared at the squirrel, something flashing in her grey eyes.

“Joan?” Anya said softly. She opened one wing around the girl. “Is there a reason you haven’t been sleeping?”

Joan was quiet for a long time. She clenched her claws around the squirrel, tearing its flesh on accident. She sniffled softly.

“I-I’m having these dreams,” She whispered. “At first I thought they were just regular nightmares, but then I realized they were visions of the future. And terrible things happen.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I-I’m a monster. An actual monster like in the stories- a WingEater. And everyone is dead. And there’s blood all over my body and I can taste their guts in my mouth and I--” She let out a heartbreaking sob and wrapped her wings around herself.

Anya was taken aback at the confession. She hadn’t been expecting Joan to admit so much to her, especially since they weren’t exactly very close. But now the poor thing was crying in front of her, shaking and gasping and wheezing, and Anya realized with a jolt that she was having an anxiety attack.

“Hey, hey,” Anya unfurled her black kite wings around Joan. The golden speckles across the membrane glittered faintly in the lamplight. “It’s alright. It wasn’t real. It was just a dream.”

“It wasn’t JUST a dream, Anya!” Joan said miserably. “It was a VISION! I told you! It’s a possible future!”

“There are so many possible futures, Joan,” Anya consoled her, stroking her crest feathers in an attempt to comfort her. “You haven’t shown to be murderous at all. It’s probably a very unlikely future at best. Nothing is set in stone.”

Joan scoffed. She shoved Anya off and leaped to her feet, throwing the squirrel to the ground. “Don’t act like you’re so bloodless, either!”

Anya tensed. “What?”

“I’ve seen you,” Joan whispered. Her eyes were wide and wild. “You’ve shown up in my mind before. You do things, too.”

Filled with morbid, horrified curiosity, Anya asked, “What?”

“Revenge,” Joan said. “On Cathy.”

“No.”

“Yes!” Joan’s feathers stood on end. “I’ve seen the blood on your claws. I’ve seen the way you’ve carved out her skin to match the scars upon your own body because you were JEALOUS! I’ve seen visions where you have wished death upon her for not saving you and I’ve seen visions where you regret not giving her name to the men that tore your body apart.” Her tail lashed like a snake on fire, steam wreathing out from her mouth as she screamed. “But I’ve also seen futures where you lay with her in bed and you both fill each other with your love, wings overlapping as you press into each other’s warmth, sheltered from the world and memories of the past. I’ve seen futures where you confess your love to her and she takes you as her mate. I’ve seen futures when you’re both retired and living in a beautiful house that hangs off a cliff with a beach stretched out before the giant windows, two little fledges romping in the sand, a bluebird Avem and a mourning cloak butterfly Cimex, while you and Cathy watch in amusement, only halfheartedly telling the butterfly to stop putting sand in her mouth.” Tears dripped down cheeks, lips quivering, shivers wracking through her wings. “Nothing is set in stone, and there are good futures, but it’s hard to not think about the bad futures when you know what happens now is it?”

Anya was silent, eyes wide, staring at the small hybrid in front of her. She had never seen Joan explode like that before; she honestly didn’t think it was even possible.

But what was worse: the things Joan said. Was there really a possibility that would do all those bad things?

She looked down at her claws and realized they were shaking.

“I--” She looked up and saw the frightened look on Joan’s face. The little hybrid tucked her tail between her legs and took a step back, pulling her wings in close. “I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me…”

Anya swallowed thickly. “Those--are hard not to think about.” She said. She stood up and slowly approached Joan until she could clasp their talons together. “But it’s the good futures that we should fight for. You said it yourself, there is a possibility for good. There’s a lot of good! We need to focus on that!”

“I can’t,” Joan whimpered. “I-it’s too hard.” She yanked her hands out of Anya’s grasp and squeezed her head between her palms as if she were trying to keep all the bad things from leaking out. “I-it all piles up in my mind and it’s all I can think about and--” She sobbed. “It’s hard! It’s hard!”

“Shh, shh,” Anya wrapped her wings around Joan and pulled her against her chest. “It must be so difficult for you… But you’re so strong, you know? For dealing with all of this.”

Joan sniffled and looked up at her, her grey eyes shining with tears. “I-I am?”

“You are,” Anya swept a lock of hair out of Joan’s face, then wiped some of her tears away. “I don’t think I’d ever be able to do something like that.”

“B-but you went though something a lot worse…” Joan glanced at one of the burn scars peeking out from under the collar of Anya’s shirt.

“Hey, don’t do that.” Anya cupped her face to make her look at her. “Don’t undermine the things you went through. Are still going through.”

Joan sniffled but didn’t say anything. Maybe she couldn’t. Anya bundled her back into her wings and just held her for a long time.

Time passed. The night grew colder. The blood of the squirrel was beginning to dry across the grass. Joan’s sobs slowly tapered off into weak hiccups.

“Feeling better?” Anya asked softly.

“I guess,” Joan whispered, avoiding eye contact. Her eyes looked haunted like she couldn’t stop thinking about the things she had spoken about. She shivered and huddled closer against Anya.

“Why don’t we go back to my apartment?” Anya offered. “You can eat and then rest. If you’re up for it.”

This time, Joan did not resist.

After Joan grabbed the squirrel, Anya led her to her apartment. It was small but clean and cozy. Joan seemed to be a little more comfortable inside.

“Thank you,” Joan whispered. “For this. And for not getting scared when I told you all that…stuff…”

Anya WAS scared, but she didn’t tell Joan that.

“No problem,” Anya smiled warmly at her. “Come on. Sit down and eat. Maybe we can watch a movie afterward?”

Joan nodded.

After Joan ate, which was surprisingly clean for a squirrel getting its throat eaten and drank out of, she and Anya went to Anya’s bedroom and began watching some random movie on Netflix that they agreed on. It wasn’t long before Joan drifted off, probably exhausted from both lack of sleep and her outburst.

Anya watched her while she slept, gently stroking her with one wing. She never expected the hybrid of all people to lay in her bed, but she didn’t mind. As long as Joan was comfortable.

And then Joan’s eyes snapped open. They were blank and glazed over.

Anya blinked down at her. She gently brushed her face.

“Joan?”

“Lighting a candle just to breathe the smoke is a bad, bad thing,” Joan said, and her voice was detached and hollow. It barely even sounded like her at all. “Tread carefully, we walk on hot coals. When you play with fire, you’re bound to get burned.” Her head lolled to the side. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, you’re going to burn with the rest of us.”

#wing au #six the musical #six the musical au #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fic #uk tour six #tour joan on the keys #anne askew #sixtended verse

18 notes · View notes

ridingdinosaurs · 4 years

Link

Calli drags a nail across his throat, right above the seam of his collar. Her bangs tickle his ear as she speaks.

“Be a good pup and save our seats, yeah?”

He nods and presses a quick kiss to her exposed collarbone before she slips off and drags Wis towards the bathroom. He watches the fabric of their dresses shimmer and sparkle in the pulsing club lights until they’re swallowed up by the crowd.

Luka leans back against the bar, enjoying the heavy buzz zipping from his fingertips to his toes. They’d been here...five hours? Six? After the fifth shot he’d stopped caring. It’s not like anyone’s expecting them back anytime soon, Calli’s dads are in town but she has yet to make herself known to them, opting instead to stay at the downtown penthouse and waste the weekend away with Wis and himself. He’s not certain why she’s been holding out but he’s certainly not complaining. He thinks about the ropes they’d left dangling over the bed and grins lazily.

The music is so loud his teeth ache with it. He taps his foot against the linoleum floor and doesn't realize he’s off-beat until the next song starts up.

The room is smoky, sticky and way too crowded. Drunk men and women wearing scraps of clothing worth more than Wis’ Yamaha writhe in time with the bass. Sweat gleams, teeth flash, and feet pound.

He’d still thoroughly enjoying the way the beat vibrates in his skull when he feels someone slipping into the seat next to his. A spark of anxiety cuts through the euphoric haze when he turns and takes in a man taller than Calli and twice as broad.

“Oh, uh...that’s…”

He trails off as the man smirks at him and runs a hand through his greased-back hair. The rings on his long fingers reflect the neon lights as he lifts a glass to his lips and it’s distracting enough to knock Luka’s thoughts off-track. Well, that , and the overflow of alcohol drumming through his veins.

“Those girls who just left, they with you?” The way he purrs around the question sparks an alarm in Luka’s mind and he frowns.

“Uh, yeah. That’s-that’s one of the seats-“

The man chuckles and Luka can barely hear it over the music, “I won’t be here long, it’s alright. I wan...”

Whatever he’s about to say is drowned in the swell of the bass and Luka shakes his head in confusion. The man leans so close he can smell a waft of peppermint on his breath as he speaks up, “Wanna go somewhere a bit quieter?”

“They told me- I’m saving their seats.”

“We won’t be long, I just want to talk for a minute.”

Luka shakes his head, vision tilting with the movement. The buzz in his fingertips is no longer light and comfortable so he turns nervously on his stool and picks his glass back up, sipping at the cool liquid. It’s bitter going down and he throws back the entire glass before licking his lips and grabbing the attention of the bartender.

“Oh, come on, kid. You look bored as hell sitting here all alone,” the man grins, sharp and bright, “I can help with that, ya know?”

Luka’s heart is in his throat as he looks away from the man’s smile. He hates disappointing people. He hates saying no. But this guy gives him...bad vibes. And the girls… His anxiety is kicking into full gear. He takes a sip of the new drink and forces a breath, forces himself to stay grounded.

“I’d like to stay here, I’m sorry.”

The man backs off with a smooth wave of a hand and takes another contemplating sip. Luka hates the way his skin crawls under his dark gaze.

“So who are they?”

“What?”

“The two you’re with? They’ve gotta be someone to get up here. I’m curious.”

Yeah, that’s a no. “They uh...they’re visiting from Arizona.”

The man’s eyebrow furrows into another smirk, “That barely answers my question, kid. Are they dancers? They’re pretty enough.”

Luka leans back and stares at him, “H-how long have you been…?”

“You can’t blame a guy for noticing a pretty little thing, can you?” The man drags his gaze down Luka’s torso and Luka can’t help the goosebumps that rise to his flesh when their gazes meet again.

The discomfort he expected to feel is missing. In its place is a warm buzz. His fingers feel numb against the cool bar. He’s so distracted by the building sensation that he barely catches the next words.

“...lucky man, two hanging from your arm tonight.”

“Wait- what..?”

The dark gaze is intense now and Luka has a hard time tearing his eyes away.

Why is the man swaying? Oh wait. Maybe that’s him?

“Sorry, I, uh-“ Luka fumbles his glass and swears as the tinted liquor splashes across his chest. The man’s hand comes out of nowhere and plucks the glass from his numb fingers, brushing at his shirt. Luka is too out of it to notice the man’s pause when he sees the collar, barely notices when his long fingers brush against the material.

“I’m sorry, fuck I’m-I’m really…”

“Hey, it’s okay. No harm to me,” comes the silky admission, “You want to wash that off?”

“I…” Luka stares dizzily down at his ruined shirt. Why is it so hard to speak? Why are his arms so fucking heavy ? He’s way drunker than he thought.

“C’mon,” the man slips large hands beneath his arms and hefts him up.

His breath catches in his throat when he realizes just how much larger the man is compared to him. His nose is nearly pressed into the man’s large chest and one of his trunk-like arms wraps around his waist. The contact burns against his ribs.

Luka’s focus is suddenly split on keeping his feet under him and on how good the guy smells. For some reason the sharp cologne reminds him of Wis and he aches a bit. He falls a bit further into the guy’s torso before being hit with the realization that he’s left the seats behind.

“Hey wait, I dun...“

“Shh, you do, remember? You asked me to help you.”

Luka doesn't remember, and he tries to say as much but the man pulls him tighter to his torso and before he knows it he’s hit with a cool blast of fresh air. The breeze helps clear his head a bit and as he takes in the yellow parking garage lights he realizes what’s happening.

This has nothing to do with his drenched shirt.

Luka tugs at the man’s grip but his limbs aren’t responding. He whimpers around a thick tongue, struggling to dig his heels in.

“Le’go of me- stop-“

“Hey!”

Luka’s face explodes in white-hot pain and suddenly he’s gasping up from the harsh gravel, vision swirling with the sickly yellow fluorescence above. He chokes on something thick and warm and metallic. The man’s greasy face swims into view.

“You’ve been so good up till now, don’t ruin it, huh?”

Luka’s eyelids are as heavy as his limbs, and he finds that he can no longer stand on his own power. The man grunts as he hefts him into his arms. He doesn't seem to care about getting his expensive suit dirty.

Luka watches blood smear on the crisp white collar he’s pressed against, brain a muffled fog.

It isn’t until he’s set back down on the pavement, leaned back against a concrete barrier, that he closes his eyes against the dizziness. The hand is back again, ring cool against Luka’s jaw as it jerks his face up.

“Be a good boy and wait here for me,” the sugary tone has a dark undergrowth and Luka whimpers as the grip tightens.

He’s left drowning in a numb existence, breaths labored and shallow as he fights the current of panic muffled by whatever drug is flowing through his system.

Why can’t he just go home? Where are the girls? He wants Calli’s strong arms and Wisteria’s warm legs wrapped around his aching limbs. They were just here, weren’t they? He just saw them a minute ago. Where did they go? Why did they leave him here? It’s cold and hard and he’s feeling kinda sick...okay he's feeling a lot sick...

It could be minutes or hours before anything happens. The noise is back but this time the man sounds...angry. Angry and loud and Jesus this is too much but he can't do anything he can’t move .

There are other voices now, too, feet pounding against pavement and screams echoing like a bullet ricochet through his skull.

It swells and swells and swells until a long, drawn out groan drips from his lips alongside the trickle of blood.

He flinches when a cool hand presses against his bruised cheek, another wraps into his hair and he wants to tell whoever this is that it hurts stop touching but he can’t he’s still drowning.

“...py? Luka, c’mon…”

He smells it again, that sharp cologne. The hands only hold tighter when he flinches away and he moans against the steady grip.

“It’s me, it’s Wis. C’mon Puppy, open your eyes for me.”

There’s an explosion- it echoes between his ears and he’s dead now isn’t he? The hands are gone and he can’t feel anything-

The world fades into grey and he gives in to the swell, unconscious before the next wave hits.

...

Luka wakes slowly to the soft sensation of fingers trailing through his hair. It’s nice, and he’s warm, so he falls back into oblivion.

…

The next time he opens his eyes he’s met with a brilliant smile. Golden strands of hair swallow his vision and those lips are pressed to his forehead in a gentle kiss. Relief soaks like a balm into his skin.

Calli.

“Hey baby, it’s okay,” a thumb swipes beneath his eye and he leans into the touch, allowing hot tears to bubble down his cheeks as he takes in Calli’s pretty eyes and creased brow.

“How are you feeling? Any better?”

Any better? Better than what? He closes his eyes and thinks hard, cutting through the heady fog in his brain. He remembers the club, the dancers, lots of lights...yellow lights, greasy black hair, his mouth filling with blood, and oh... that was a lot to sift through. So he doesn’t. He lifts a hand and brushes weak fingers against her arm.

“Lay by me?” He croaks.

She nods and tucks into his side, laying one long leg over his own, wrapping him in a strong embrace. Tired eyes flick around the room, recognizing the stark walls and equipment as those of a hospital room.

“Where…?”

“Now that you're up we can go home,” she explains, breath hot against his shoulder, “They just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Hm.”

He closes his eyes and nearly drifts off again when he realizes, “where’s Wis?”

“She’s fine,” Calli assures gently, “She’s talking to dad. He’s gonna drive us home in a bit. Are you up for that?”

He nods absently, thoughts are scattered. The drowsiness of moments before swept away by a familiar anxiety, “What- what happened?”

Calli tenses a bit before explaining, “You were drugged, they believe the pig who did it had ties to a trafficking ring leading up the coast. But it's okay” She hastens to soothe, “We caught up to you and security managed to get him locked up. You’re okay.”

“There was...it…” Calli waits patiently while he threads memories together, “A noise, a crash?”

She looks confused for half a second before realization washes over her features.

“Oh. He had a gun in his car. No one was hit though.”

“Mm.”

Luka shifts so that he can press his face into the divot of her neck, letting the warmth and connection between their bodies ease the strum of anxiety vibrating down his spine.

They stay like that, wrapped in the safety of the embrace, until the others come to take them home.

#whumptober2020 #no.2 #whump #kidnapping #light D/s #oc #not my oc #gift fic

10 notes · View notes