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teddi-too · 3 years

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Demon x Gender Neutral Reader (NSFW)

A/N: NSFW, a little long, I kept the reader gender neutral but story does contain specific mentions of various genitalia. 18+

You were sitting on the floor in your living room before you were a dozen lit candles in mismatched votives and a make-shift altar (it’s actually just a cell phone stand) holding a small piece of paper with a sigil drawn on it. The drawing was of the Seal of Gusion, a powerful demon whose symbol you had traced from your copy of the Lesser Keys of Solomon. You said a few quiet words and concentrated on the symbol with all your might until the world around you faded out.

“What are you doing?” asked a voice from behind you. The voice was rich and sounded somewhere between amused and concerned.

“Trying to summon a demon,” you responded absent-mindedly trying not to let your concentration falter. The room was quiet again and you went back to muttering words quietly. Then your heart stopped with a sharp slice you felt from your tensed shoulders to your navel. You lived alone. Who the fuck just asked you what you were doing?

Your body became rigid and warm as you fought with your flight instincts to turn around. You knew you needed to look at what the hell was in your house but fear stopped you.

“Where the hell did you learn to summon a demon?” The same voice asked again. The voice was so rich and electric it seemed to crawl up your back. You shuttered with a chill.

“Um...a YouTube video.” You shrank in on yourself. You didn’t even know who you were talking to but saying that out loud was a bit embarrassing. You felt a slender finger hook under your chin and turn your head towards the larger room.

Looking down at you was a tall, handsome creature with skin such a deep shade of obsidian it nearly obscured its facial features. Plainly set in its face were bright eyes with red speckled irises and a large mouth that stretched nearly from ear to ear.

The creature looked like a man from the waist up. Its skin was smooth and matte with small patches that reflected the candlelight almost like a swath of scales dotted throughout. It’s long trim arms retreated from your direction to sit idly on its hips. Your eyes moved down to its waist where it’s smooth torso melted into soft, thick mottled fur that was black with sapphire highlights. Your eyes traced down further and it took a span of a few seconds for you to realize the creature had goat like legs complete with cloven hooves. Swishing between its legs you saw a tail as thick as your wrist that ended in a tuft of long sapphire fur that reminded you of a cow’s tail.

Holy shit, you thought. Your breath caught in your throat as you tried to make sense of the demon standing before you...had it actually worked? Your thoughts were soon interrupted as the demon crouched down to be more level with your face.

“I see.” The demon drew out its response. “And who were you trying to summon with...this set up?” It asked, waving a hand at your dismal attempt. Your cheeks flushed, a little embarrassed.

“Um, Gusion….is that-are you…” your voice trailed off. The demon burst into a fit of laughter that went on long enough for you to shift from embarrassed to annoyed. The demon wiped a tear from its eye.

“Gusion! You tried to conjure a Duke of Hell with...I-I can’t believe I need to say this but please don’t take summoning advice from a random YouTube video.” The demon reached past you bringing its face close to yours. You let out a shaky breath, you swore you saw the demon smirk at you. It grabbed your crudely drawn symbol off your “altar” and stood back up to examine it.

“Well...you’re here so something must have worked!” You said indignantly, pushing yourself off the floor to stand. The demon was much taller than you, even as you tried to straighten your posture as much as you could. The demon looked at you and flicked the piece of paper to the floor.

“Don’t get too excited. I just happened to be nearby and heard some weird ‘abracadabra’ type nonsense and stopped to check it out.” The demon reached out, cupping your face and traced a soft circle with its thumb on your cheek. “What did you want with that asshole anyway?”

“I don’t know...I just…have always wanted to meet a demon.” You shrugged. More specifically you have always been attracted to darker things and maybe, sort of wanted to fuck a demon but you weren’t sure how your guest would react to that.

The demon cocked its head to the side and let go of your face. As it pulled away, its hand dropped to your shoulder tracing a line across your collarbone before finally grazing your chest. The demon’s touch sent an electric shock straight through your body that settled down into your core. It was such a light touch but it’s potential excited you and you felt your body shift slightly trying to follow the demon's touch.

The demon took in a deep breath through its nose and smiled which allowed you to see just how far its mouth stretched.

“I knew it,” the demon looked down at you with a smug satisfaction. Heat rose to your cheeks once again. “I can smell your arousal little one.” The demon slowly licked its thin wide lips with a deep red forked tongue. It’s eyes suddenly hooded with an intense hunger.

White hot heat dropped into your core again piling on to the sensation that was already swirling in your sex.

“Now...I may not be a duke of hell but I’m not bad to look at, right?” All you could do is nod as you took a shallow breath. Your mind seemed to be five paces behind you and you let your body lead the way. The demon closed the space between you. It’s body was warm. Electricity jumped between your bodies, charging the sexual energy that had filled the room.

The demon grabbed your chin once again and moved your face to look up into its own. Your heartbeat was raging out of control and you stretched yourself up trying to close the distance between your mouths.

The demon's tongue ghosted along your lips causing a whispered moan to escape you. The thin forks of its tongue caressed your lips and it would probably have tickled if your body hadn’t already been swimming in your desire.

“Is that a yes, human?”

“Yes.” A small, timid word was all you could manage. The demon caught your mouth in a hard chaste kiss before stepping away from you. You stood there motionless for a moment unsure what to do next, you looked at the demon. “Human...is this your first time? Devil on high, lead me to your bedroom. Unless this is your preferred surface.” It kicked the leg of your coffee table and stood with its hands on its hips.

You shook your head free of the lusty cobwebs halting your movement and headed down the hall to your bedroom. “Come on, then.” you called back, trying to sound dominant. You are pretty sure you heard the demon snicker behind you.

Once in your bedroom, you sat on the edge of your bed and waited for it to catch up. The demon strode right up to the bed and stood in front of you, jutting its hips forward ever so slightly. You reached out and lightly grabbed its hips. The fur on its hips was so soft and thick, you started running your fingers across its front, playfully stroking the line where its bare torso met its goat-like bottom half. As your hand passed over the center of its pelvis, the demon let out a groan. Your fingers padded through the fur feeling for its sex.

“Eager, aren’t we?” the demon asked in an even tone. It grabbed the back of your head and pressed your face into its abdomen. You opened your mouth and slid your tongue against the demon’s cool, smooth skin. You began kissing the demon along the fur line where your fingers were dancing before. The demon reassuringly ran its fingers through your hair, leaning back just slightly so it could watch your mouth worship its body.

You began pressing your kiss further up the torso, up its stomach, across its chest, catching its hardened nipples in your teeth, teasing them with your tongue. The demon began to crouch down so that you could continue to move up its body without moving from the bed. The more you touched and suckled its body, the tighter your core felt. Your body was begging you to speed things up so you could feel the demon inside you but you were determined to savor this experience.

As you moved up, leaving kisses upon the demon’s neck, the demon let out a gravely moan which sent pulses through your entire body. At its jawline, the demon met its lips with yours and devoured you in a deep passionate kiss, eagerly pawing at your body and pressing you close. You were completely lost in the demon’s kiss, its forked tongue playing at your mouth, nimble and strong.

The demon pulled away and you instinctively hooked your arms around it trying to recapture their warmth.

“Now, now. There’s a point of order here before we can continue.” The demon smiled, two rows of sharp teeth glistening in the dim light of your room. The demon tapped you on the shoulders to motion you to sit back and stepped further away from the bed. “What is your preference little one?” it asked.

The demon moved its hand to its crotch and your eyes followed. It rubbed against its groin deftly with one hand and you soon saw a slender line open up amongst the thick fur. You could see the glistening head of a penis start to push out of its sheath. The head was a deep crimson red and flat on the end with a small spade shaped ridge jutting out of the underside. A line of precum trailed down the flat head of the penis and collected in the spade. The demon grabbed the head of its penis and began stroking itself, coaxing its penis completely out of its protective sheath.

Moments later, the demon’s long, thick member had emerged completely and the demon rested its length in its hand. Aside from the interesting crimson head, the penis also had small ridges along the top side. The color faded to black the closer it got to the base. Your mouth began to salivate taking in the sight of it which must have been at least 11 inches long in addition to its thickness.

“Now,” the demon interrupted your hungry gaze with an equally lust filled command, “do you prefer this or…” it trailed off. The demon let its member drop away from its hand and stretched its hands towards the floor. Spreading its legs just slightly, it doubled over in half and began to push its torso between its legs. You squinted at the demon not sure what was about to happen.

The demon passed its entire torso through its legs and began to move back up the other side as if it were a doll. When the demon was upright again its form had changed. On its chest were full, round breasts and as your eyes trailed lower you saw that its penis was gone. The demon took a step towards you and moved its hands down towards its sex. Its slim fingers parted fur lined lower lips to reveal a glistening, wet pussy. The demon began to stroke its throbbing clit and you saw a shiver run through its body.

“Well, human? What will it be?” the demon asked, smirking. Sitting on the bed, your body ached with want, your sex becoming slick with desire. The demon looked at you, a lazy expression on its face as it continued to pleasure itself.

“Option one, please.” you said breathily and without thinking you began to shed your clothing. The demon grinned ear to ear and dropped its torso towards the ground to begin the change once again.

You turned your back to the demon as you moved to crawl onto the bed. Its arm hooked around your waist and you felt the demon press its body against you. Its hard cock pressing into the back of your thigh. The demon rutted against your leg and leaned down, snaking its forked tongue across your back.

“Get on your knees.” a short, swift command and it made you fall apart. Your heart raced as you climbed on to the bed, positioning yourself on all fours. You felt the weight shift on the bed as the demon crawled up behind you. Its hand firmly pushed between your shoulder blades, pushing your torso down against the bed. Its other hand grabbed your hips, fingers digging in and laying claim to your body. Once you were in position, you felt the demon’s slender tongue lap over your entrance, eager to open you up. The tongue dragged up and down your hole, the hot breath of the demon adding to your growing arousal. You reached your hand towards your pleasure to try and give yourself a little release but you were caught by the wrist.

“Now, now little human. You’ve given yourself to me, your body is mine for now.” The strong hand squeezed your wrist before letting go. You let your hand fall away from your sex and moved it back to brace yourself. You were desperate for more friction and fought to not buck your hips back towards the demon. The demon laughed as it continued to wet your entrance with its tongue. The vibrations of its laughter sent a white hot feeling through your body.

The demon continued to prep your entrance, pushing its tongue into you, working at you steadily. When your sex was wet and swollen from its tongue, the demon began to use its fingers. Rubbing along the edges of your hole in small, steady circles before dipping a finger in. You moaned as the first digit pushed in and you could barely soak in the feeling before another finger stretched you further. The demon’s long fingers moved in and out you, crooking at just the right angle to make you cry out.

You began to move your hips without thought as the demon fucked you open with its fingers. The demon’s hot drool dripped from between its sharp teeth on to your sex adding to the wetness. Lewd, sucking noises filled the room as it worked your hole. You chanced a glance over your shoulder to see the demon pumping its cock, as it worked you.

The demon pulled its fingers out of you and held them in front of its face. Its forked tongue moved all over the fingers licking off all of your taste like the appendage had a mind of its own. The demon shifted and raised itself off its haunches and lined itself up with your entrance. Your body quivered, already overstimulated.

The spade shaped ridge on the underside of its penis slid into your entrance, opening you up so that the large, flat head could push inside you. In an instant your body felt so full. The demon roughly pushed in to you, suddenly uninterested in your comfort--chasing its own need. The demon’s hips snapped against your ass as it seated itself fully into you. Stretching you beyond what you thought was possible. Your entrance pulled and stretched to accommodate its cock and you couldn’t read the line between pleasure and pain. There was a feeling in the pit of your stomach that let you know you hadn’t been full like this before. You breathed deeply, trying to relax your body not wanting the demon to sense any discomfort.

After a brief pause with the demon seated fully inside you, it began to slowly pull itself out. This time you felt what you hadn’t noticed before, the ridges along the top of its cock. They tugged at your sopping wet entrance as its cock pulled out of you. The demon thrusted into you slowly a few more times. You could already feel your orgasm building and didn’t know how much longer you would last.

You nodded your head against your arm, not sure if the demon could see you trying to indicate you were ready for more. You didn’t trust that you could speak. The demon apparently took the hint because it immediately started to move in and out of you at a quick pace. Holding your hips in its hands, the demon hissed and howled as it picked up speed. A white hot feeling started to stretch over your body, oozing out from your core reaching into your legs and arms, all the way up your throat until a loud moan ripped from your mouth. Encouraged by the noise, the demon gripped your hips harder, its sharp nail pressing into your skin. Your body was so hot already you could tell if the heat in your hips was because it broke skin or was just your pleasure mounting.

A nonstop string of moans and guttural noises fell from your mouth as your sex began to clench and spasm, the feeling quickly built then crescendoed as your orgasm tore through you. The demon kept its pace as it worked you through your orgasm--still chasing its own. The demon continued to thrust roughly inside of you as tears stung at the corner of your eyes. A hand grabbed your shoulder as the demon thrust into you impossibly hard somehow hitting you even deeper than before. The demon screeched an unearthly sound as it came and released inside of you, filling you and once again making the room echo with wet, sucking noises as its seed pushed around its girth and out of you. The demon’s release forced another orgasm from your body and you screamed as the overstimulation left you numb and floating.

Finally, the demon slid out of you, its thick cock dropping against its thigh, and it let out a satisfied groan settling back on its haunches. You barely had strength left in your limbs and you fell to your side, taking in deep breaths of air to steady your racing heart. You moved your hands down the backside of your body so you could finger the release covering your ass and thighs. It was thick and heavy and clung to your skin. The demon ran a finger along the flat head of its cock, collecting its own release on its finger tip. It reached out the come covered finger towards you. You opened your mouth, eager to taste the demon’s seed.

You sucked its finger clean of the bitter cream and the demon laid down next to you, satisfied. You laid in silence next to the demon, both of you swimming alone in your senses nothing but the sound of your labored breathing in the room. You were the first to break the silence.

“Can I try option two next time? Can there be a next time?” you said dreamily, rubbing its chest. The demon smiled its wide, sharp grin that bisected its entire face.

“Oh yes, I will definitely be back here again.” the demon reached out, past you and stuck its thumb on your wall. For a brief moment there was a small, black crack in the wall. “So I can find you again.” When you looked again the fissure had disappeared.

Pushing itself off the bed and standing, the demon ran fingers through fur that was matted with both of your fluids. Suddenly, the edges of its body began to look blurry and there was a crackling energy all around it.

“For fuck’s sake...now?...when I’m covered in this mess…” its voice broke off, annoyed. You kept staring as the line of its shoulder seemed to evaporate.

“For your information, this is what it looks like when you summon a demon.” it snorted.

You couldn’t help but laugh.

#monster x reader #monster x human #monster lover #terato #teratophillia #monster fucker #demon x reader #demon fucker

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inforapound · 3 years

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The Devil Inside - Part 1

This was written to celebrate @fuchsiagrasshopper 200 followers. Congrats to you. This is not high literature, just a tiny-bop reader insert style romance.

Warnings - sexually explicit, hints of dub/con, possessiveness, love

Pairing - Ivar x Reader Prompt in bold.

There they were. The same unimpressed brilliant blue eyes. It was the second time that week you had seen them in the back parking lot at school.

The student car park was behind the main building where all those who either drove or smoked cigarettes congregated at lunch to sit in their cars, pump music, and yak. You didn’t smoke but had a car so hung out all the same. Students from neighbouring schools occasionally pulled in to visit, always staying in their cars and keeping a distance as these types of schools were full of rules and someone was always watching. That is where he fits it. The dark-haired guy with the cold eyes and the nice flat-black Camaro. Whether or not he was putting on airs, he looked dubious and the kids always hanging about his car were the shadier bunch in the school.

He had been coming around for a couple of months now and you had locked eyes with him once or twice. Maybe more. He always broke the contact first as if looking at you had been in error. Probably dealt drugs or something similar but honestly, you didn’t know. What you did know, with your sharp eighteen-year-old senses, was to keep to your side of the lot. Maintaining your flawless grades was your first priority with socializing a not to distant second. Plus, you had been single for less than six weeks so boys were not exactly a draw.

So… you thought nothing of it when Mark Hasting approached your locker when the end-of-the-day bell rang. Standing with your closest friends, Kim and Amanda, you were deciding on whose house to meet at after supper. Mark was one of those smoking-out-back-leather-jacket-wearing types but he was friendly with everyone so it wasn’t that out of the blue for him to stop by your locker and chat.

“What’s up ladies,” he smiled, looking rather fit for a guy who had never played sports. “Any plans tonight?”

Kim carried on loading her binders into her locker and Amanda gave a breezy ‘not sure’ shrug so you spoke up as Mark was a nice guy.

“Might meet up with some of the others at the beach by my place after dark. What are you up to?”

“Me and some of the guys are going to meet behind Macdonald’s at 9 pm. Go from there. Some boys from Claremont are coming. You should join?”

“Clairemont, eh?”

It was the other private school in the district, prestigious like yours but with the reputation for being wild. Amanda’s brother had transferred there a few years back for their higher-profile basketball program and she had bitched that her parents were playing favourites ever since.

“Yeah, okay, maybe,” you answered not sounding convinced.

“You gonna be driving?” he asked which surprised you as you were the only one with a car. Kim had one that she supposedly shared with her brother but you had maybe seen her with it twice.

“Well, I won’t be getting a driver’s license in the next 6 hours,” Amanda laughed.

“Fair enough,” Mark smiled. “So maybe see you there?”

Hmm. That was interesting and you wondered if Mark or one of the other outbackers were interested in one of your friends. The crowd you ran with were the popular sort; the academics, preps, and jocks. Not the smokers who hit the bong on the weekends but at your school the cliques mixed well. Unlikely hookups weren’t that out of the ordinary but you certainly weren't interested. Hell no.

----

The evening air was a bit sharp so you were glad you wore your white denim coat and blue jeans. It was nearly dark and you were with a group of eight or ten of your friends standing between parked cars at the playground not far from your school. The closest street lamp was out so the only light came from the radios playing in the cars lined up in a row. The music was just loud enough to hear but not grab the attention of the tidy homes across the street.

If you were being honest, you were bored and the night was shaping up to look like the previous few weekends. Deciding to have a drink, you grabbed a cider from the full box in your trunk, passing your keys and responsibility over to Kim. ‘No problem’ was her reply that came in the form of a quick nod. You had been driving her around for years so she didn’t mind.

The headlights of two vehicles rolling past and pulling in made you all turn and look and you immediately recognized both. It was Mark’s white van and the low-slung Camaro tailing close behind. Blue eyes was in there. He had to be and it wasn’t immediately apparent but you had some reaction, nerves maybe or just feeling a bit on the spot for brushing off Mark’s earlier invitation.

“Guess nothing was happening at Macdonald’s,” Kim laughed.

“Shocking,” Amanda added sarcastically, taking a drag of her cigarette and blowing the smoke in the opposite direction.

“Cause hanging out beside the jungle gym is so much cooler,” you droned, squinting at the now parked cars, noticing that the Camaro looked full of people.

Not letting your sights linger, you turned back to your friends, taking a few long pulls of your drink, and heard car doors open and close. The sound of footsteps crunching over gravel came towards you.

“It’s Amanda, right?” a girl’s voice called and in unison, you all spun around.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Amanda answered, in her overly cheerful voice.

Before you was a tall blonde girl, a little older than you with very distinct features; a small narrow nose and the largest eyes you had ever seen.

“I graduated with Lani last year at Claremont,” she explained.

Lani was Amanda’s older brother, a year and half older, popular but a total prick unless he needed something.

“I’m Torvi,” she smiled and you all nodded your hellos.

“Hey, we are headed to my boyfriend’s if you want to come? Have some drinks. Can’t blow the doors wide but you girls are welcome to come.”

“Yeah, sure, okay,” Kim and Amanda’s mixed replies came at the same time.

Knowing the plan was set, you took a few more drinks of your cider, finishing it off, wondering who exactly was in that car.

The tall blonde turned and began to head back but stopped and looked in your direction.

“You’re not driving, I take it?” she glanced at the empty you were returning to the box in your open trunk.

“For once, no,” you replied quietly.

“Ride with us,” she jerked her head in the direction of the Camaro. “The girls can follow,” she smiled and you felt caught-off-guard.

“That’s okay,” you smiled back. “We’ll see you there.”

“No,” her smile widened and she took a step closer, offering her arm for you to link up. “I insist.”

The Camaro was nice. Really nice. Classic with a black leather interior. It had the faintest smell of cigarettes, beer, and leather. A total guy car and not the BMW SUV’s you were used to. You like it far more than those. But the atmosphere was anything but nice. For you at least. A tall, rather serious guy had opened the door, folding the seat forward for you and Torvi to climb in. Her boyfriend, you assumed, by the way he smacked her ass when she slid past.

Mr. Blue-Eyes was the driver and when you settled back in the seat, you realized those nerves earlier had nothing to do with running into Mark. It was him. As your mom would say, ‘trouble with a capital T’ and being that close to him made you feel.....funny.

The ride was quick and the house you were heading to turned out to be only a few minutes away but it felt like a different neighborhood. They were mansions; the original estates in the area before it was all chopped up into lots and sold. The gates on the driveway were open and you drove up a long driveway to a beautiful Tudor style home set well back from the road. It looked about 10,000 square feet from the driveway and if it hadn’t have been for those cold blue eyes glancing up at you in the rearview mirror, you would have turned around to make sure your friends were still following.

Inside the house was equally as amazing; soaring ceilings and a gracious front entry, an incredible kitchen with a large family room off to one side. You settled with Torvi on a large leather couch and from where you were sitting, you saw that the French doors on the other side of the pool table led out to a massive back-lit pool. Homes like this weren’t that uncommon in your world but you still appreciated its elegance.

There wasn’t a parent in sight and no mention of one which struck you as normal. It was always the wealthy and unsupervised doing the most scandalous things. But no one there was doing anything scandalous. You were just there for drinks. Right?

Torvi handed you some type of boozy beverage and you were unsure as to why, yet relieved, that she had taken you under her wing.

Entering the room and walking with the help of some customized crutch, the Camaro driver headed straight for the leather chair on the far side of Torvi. He didn’t make eye contact with you or anyone else but you still felt noticed. The way he hustled made you think that you shouldn’t watch and you wondered if that crutch was the reason he always stayed in his car at school.

Dropping it onto the hardwood floor, he sank into the seat, immediately raising his hand and accepting a bottle from Torvi’s boyfriend who walked in behind, carrying a case of beer.

“I haven't introduced you,” Torvi raised her hand. “This is my boyfriend, Ubbe, and his brother Ivar,” your eyes flitted over to your driver but he was gazing at something, nothing, off in the kitchen. “And their other brother, Hvitserk is just outside having a smoke with his girlfriend, Margrethe.

Your eyes shifted to the French doors and you could see the outlines of two people kissing on the patio.

Okay, realization struck you. They were the Lothbroks! You had heard of them. Definitely. Just couldn’t recall what but you knew it wasn’t good and you probably shouldn’t be there. Where were your friends and why hadn’t Torvi told them your name? As if on cue, Amanda and Kim and the long-lost Mark Hasting strolled in, cheerful and boisterous and thankfully taking the pressure off you from having to talk.

Someone had turned on music and the other brother and his blonde-haired girlfriend came inside to join. A game of pool begun and you stayed on the couch with your friends and Torvi. Ivar remained slumped in his chair, giving the impression he would have preferred to be anywhere but there.

It was awkward. Torvi and your friends gabbed about the differences in schools and universities and you quietly finished your drink but, in a flash, it was replaced with another.

As always Mark was the most animated in the room, and Ubbe, who then seemed far more at ease, was listening intently to the details of how Mark’s father made so much money selling appliances. Kim was a good sport despite not drinking and joined in the conversation knowing many of the same people as Torvi.

You could have sworn Ivar scoffed when you rolled your eyes at Amanda who went outside to smoke weed with Mark and Hvitserk but when you glanced over, he was back to staring in the opposite direction and picking the label off his beer. It felt strange….. sitting in a room with lively people and you and he were the only ones not joining in. You weren’t anti-social but for whatever reason that night, or in that house, the atmosphere felt… heavy. It wasn’t the alcohol though; you were almost sure it was him. Ivar. Every bit of your focus seemed to be spent on ignoring him and for some strange reason, you felt he was doing the same.

“Whereabouts is the washroom?” you whispered to Torvi and she raised her hand to point down the hall.

“It's just down the...”

“I need another beer,” Ivar interrupted, his voice so much different than what you expected. It was smoother somehow, breathier. “I’ll show her,” his eyes flicked over to you as he grabbed his crutch and pushed himself up out of the chair.

Your instincts from before seemed right as his body language told you he did not enjoy people walking behind him. He moved with a distinct limp but it was still agile in a way, his crutch obviously an extension of his body. But his mood seemed troubled.

Christ, you thought, as you followed, he could have just told you where it was.

Through the kitchen, he moved down a long hallway lined with closed doors and you were almost certain one of them had to have been a bathroom. Just as your feet slowed assessing where you were going, he glanced back and jerked his head for you to keep moving. Ohh-kay……

Opening the door at the very end, he walked in, not looking behind. Stopping on the threshold you surveyed the room and there was no question it was his. It had the same dark wood floors and wood trim, a neatly made bed with navy linens, large windows, fitted with wooden blinds, bordered by matching navy curtains. The room was lined with furniture; a dresser, desk, shelves loaded with books but it was the framed picture hanging above his bed that held your attention. Behind glass was a charcoal drawing of a scraggly, long-haired, bearded man who seemed to be missing an eye. Nice room, you thought, but the art was a touch dramatic.

As he dropped down onto a couch and stretched his legs out onto a low coffee table, he pointed at an open door which you assumed was his private bathroom. Ohh-kay…. you thought as you tiptoed past him and into the bathroom, closing the door. Again, it struck you how clean everything was, even smelt good like some faint cologne and you hoped the thick wood door with muffle the sound of you peeing.

After washing your hands, and a lip gloss touch-up, you opened the door, not sure he would still be there. He was…. lounging on the couch, watching the tv on the adjacent wall. There was no acknowledgment when you re-emerged so you mumbled some sort of ‘thanks’ and crossed the room, heading for the door.

“Are you afraid of me?’ he spoke at your back making you stop and turn around. Aside from the glances in the rear-view mirror, it was the first time he had looked at you directly. And holy shit, was it ever direct.

“No,” you lied trying not to sneak a peek at his tight white shirt stretched over his muscular chest and arms. You definitely didn’t want to be caught staring at his perfect hair, styled in that ‘perfect hot guy way.’ Holy god, he was striking, incredibly hot with his square jaw and smooth tanned skin. You hadn’t fully taken it in until then…. when his piercing blue eyes held you frozen in place.

The angle of his chin shifted just slightly, and he subtly squinted making you think he was somehow pleased with himself. A sweep of goosebumps spread over your skin and you crossed your arms as if suddenly feeling a breeze. Was your stomach suddenly upset? Or, maybe it was your nerves clawing out your insides.

“Then sit,” he said casually, as he looked away and you detected the slightest hint of a dare in his tone.

Why? You wanted to ask but didn’t, wondering if he was trying to intimate you. One thing you did suspect was that his aloofness was only to draw you in. Funny, you thought. Wouldn’t work. You had to get back to your friends….

“Okay,” you instead answered and walked over, slowly sitting down, your body sensing the two inches of space between you. Great, it was a love seat.

Like the force of nature he felt like, he somehow read your thoughts.

“Get me a beer,” he said, nodding in the direction of the bar fridge next to the tv. What teenager had a bar fridge in their bedroom, you wondered, only realizing then that he had ordered you instead of asking.

If your eyes hadn’t scanned his crossed legs extended out on the coffee table, his crutch on the floor below, you might have told him to get his own…. but…you didn’t. Did he not want to get up? Was he in pain? Was it his legs or his back that hurt him? Maybe a knee? Was it from sports? Or, had he been in an accident with his car? The blank one. It looked fast and he looked like he drove fast too.

Slowly but with no attempt to conceal it, he let out a long sigh, snapping you out of your analysis and you realized that perhaps you were a bit drunk. But out of the corner of your eye, you saw him smirk.

“Get a beer for yourself,” he chimed as if offering a token reward for your obedience.

That was likely the extent of his chivalry anyway. Returning with two beers you handed him one not expecting and not getting any sort of thanks. His eyes stayed glued on the tv.

“Do you even like beer?” he asked, and it somehow felt like a dig.

“Yeah,” you answered taking a small sip.

God, you hated beer.

For a few minutes, you both stared at a music video, some ethereal, whining song, about a hunter in the night sung by an emo looking guy. It suited Ivar perfectly and the longer you listened the more uncomfortable you felt being there… alone in his room……essentially two strangers.

Mentally, you cleared your thought. “My name is…”

“I know your name,” he cut you off sounding annoyed.

It was getting even stranger and you wondered if your friends would eventually come find you….

“Pray to your god, open your heart, whatever you do, don’t be afraid of the dark.”

…the song played on and it felt like the tension was building but what could you say? You didn’t know him and weren’t going to make small talk. Just as the air seemed to be getting sucked out of the room, you shifted on your seat making him look over at you.

“What?” you said sounding defensive.

Without a word, he just stared at you. The skin on your cheeks began to warm and you felt embarrassed.

“Well, this was fun,” you pushed your hands down into the couch to get up but he grabbed your forearm. Gasping, your eyes locked with his blue ones, his brows pinched and his eyes narrowed.

“I thought you weren’t afraid of me,” he whispered and you noticed how much closer he was all of a sudden. Jesus, those eyes…. they were clear and cold yet somehow dark and felt bottomless. You just stared back as if hypnotized but it was the quick flutter of his lashes and a look of uncertainty that flashed across his face that had you come back to the surface.

“My. Arm. Please,” you articulated through clenched teeth, and you knew you sounded scared.

Tilting his head, his lids blinked again and he began to chuckle, flashing a forced smile and releasing your arm. Smoothly, casually, he leaned forward and grabbed the TV remote off the table as if picking it up had been his plan all along. Slamming your beer down, you stood and rushed for the door. You were fucking done with Ivar Lothbrok.

“See you at school, beautiful,” he called in a patronizing voice.

As you rounded the corner, the volume of the tv rose and the last words of the song felt foreboding.

“Cover your eyes, the devil’s inside.”

Next chapter

@youbloodymadgenius @whenimaunicorn @ceridwenofwales @sweeneythots @funmadnessandbadassvikings @redama @mdredwine @didiintheblog @londongal2810 @fields-and-fields-of-poppies @oddsnendsfanfics @youbelongeverywhere @blonddnamedhandz @hecohansen31 @naaladareia @gearhead66 @flowers-in-your-hayr @lisinfleur @geekandbooknerd @xbellaxcarolinax @edythofhastings @ivarsgoddess @shannygoatgruff @where-beauty-goes-to-die @zuxiezendler @punkrocknpearls @snatcherheart @xbellaxcarolinax @lordsexmachine

#modern ivar #ivar au #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarson #ivar smut #ivar and sarah #ivar and reader #ivar imagine #jealous ivar

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gintrinsic-writing · 3 years

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LU + Courage the Cowardly Dog

Starring Wolfie and Courage! The crossover nobody asked for but I was delighted to write. This is Part 1 of 2~

Twilight stepped into the portal, anticipating the cool, flickering miasma as it engulfed him.

Wolfie stepped out.

The cloudless sky offered dim starlight, as though smog clung to the air. The moon was nowhere to be seen. In every direction, the horizon stretched under flat, arid desert like a smile pulled too wide. Only the occasional tumbleweed and scraggly shrub offered any variation along the dry, cracked sand.

Wolfie spun around in a circle, nose held high as he sniffed for his companions. But the weak breeze carried only notes of small lizards and sandstone.

He howled, low and short, then listened for voices, ears swiveling alertly. Cicadas answered his call. Frustrated, Wolfie chuffed and put his nose to the ground, but he couldn't even detect the bitter tang that usually accompanied a recent portal. It was like he had just... been dumped here. Where was he? Was this Hyrule's land? Or Legend's? The desolate environment certainly fit their homeworlds.

The portals--they still don't really understand them. Not their origin, nor their real purpose. Wolfie supposed it was only a matter of time until something like this happened. It was weird, though, to be so isolated in an unfamiliar world. Now that he thought about it, he didn't remember making the active decision to transform into Wolfie...

Had the portal truly forced him?

Sighing, he closed his eyes and focused on shifting back to Twilight. His mind centered, pooling around the Shadow Crystal, then--

Pain, and a coldness so severe he felt stiff, corpse-like. His body stayed as Wolfie.

He was stuck.

Deeply unnerved, Wolfie shook his whole body as though he could fling the coldness from him like water. It helped a little. He looked up, trying to find a constellation he was familiar with, something to guide him through this mess, but none of the stars were recognizable. In fact, they were all bland pinpricks of light, dull and indistinguishable, with equidistance between them. Something was wrong with this place.

Something was very, very wrong.

Were the others even here? Were they separated as well? Not knowing what else to do, Wolfie threw his head back and howled again, carrying the note as long as he could. It was a hollow sound, flat and without echo; when it trailed off, he tensed, hoping and hoping.

This time, something howled back. And Wolfie knew he had made a mistake.

The noise seemed to come from all around him, emanating from the cracks in the ground. Sand shifted, and shadows that should not exist suddenly spilled from the dried crevices like scars that had begun to bleed.

Wolfie jumped back, but the shadows reached from him. The next limpid breeze carried with it a susurration that grew louder with every second, multiple voices that soon bellowed as one until Wolfie heard his own howl thrown back at him--a garbled, distorted mimicry that Wolfie knew, intuitively, was as hungry as it was mocking.

He turned and ran, feeling the oppressive shadows at his back, licking at his paws. The desert lay otherwise still around him, indifferent to his fear.

After a couple minutes, his muscles began to burn, and only adrenaline allowed Wolfie to keep sprinting. He could see the shadows coalescing in his periphery, could tell they were growing larger and swifter even as he began to tire.

If this was the Twilight Realm, then it was a version his Hyrule had been spared.

He felt trapped in a vacuum, running without gaining distance. His panting was loud in his ears, and his heart beat heavily in his chest. The shadows reached for him, grasping with too many fingers, and Wolfie put on a burst of speed he wasn't sure he had the energy to repeat.

Suddenly, the horizon changed. There was no transition, no subtle reveal. One moment, there was desert. And the next, as though born from a mirage, there were two buildings; one large and square-shaped, the other long with a row of doors. Nearby, flickering with artificial light, there was a sign. The alphabet was unfamiliar, and yet somehow, impossibly, Wolfie could read it. "KATZ MOTEL. No vacancy."

The shadows' whispering grew with fervor--a predator recognizing the potential loss of prey. The sand groaned as it shifted, new cracks forming under the weight of the coagulating darkness.

Wolfie ran for all he was worth. The door to the larger building seemed to glow with a sickly yellow light, and he aimed for it desperately. Time seemed to slow down, each second growing heavy with the malicious desire of the darkness behind him, pulling and pulling and pulling at him to join the dust crunching underfoot. The unknown lay behind that door, but death nipped at his heels.

With a scared, guttural growl, Wolfie bodily threw himself at the door. The cheap latch snapped under the force of his weight, and he frantically spun around, claws scraping and sliding on old, rotting hardwood, to shove the door closed again.

Outside, the darkness howled one last time. Then silence, like some pernicious default, reigned once more.

Wolfie didn't move for several minutes, panting as he pushed his weight against the busted door. The front wall had a single window, and the light that filtered in from that strange sign flickered erratically. He was afraid to stare out the glass, knowing that something might stare back, but he forced himself to look. Nothing but flat desert landscape could be seen.

Letting out a shaky breath, Wolfie finally glanced around the room he was in. It was sparsely decorated and poorly maintained. Dust clung to every surface, and some of the floorboards were irreparably warped and stained. Ignoring the small sign that read "No Dogs Allowed," he put his paws on the counter top and saw a single bell, a few keys, and a glossy magazine showcasing various spiders. His eyes lingered longest on the keys, but he didn't have a way to carry all of them conveniently. Especially not if he had to fight or run again.

Finally, he turned his attention to the only other things in the room--a thick door built into the back wall. A padlock was attached to the knob, but none of the small keys on the counter looked like they would fit it.

Curious, Wolfie put his nose against the very narrow gap between the door and sniffed.

Blood. Decay. A rancid, metallic stench.

He drew back with a snort, shaking his head. The odor clung to his nose. He swore he could almost taste it. On the other side of the door, there was a light scratch. Wolfie firmly decided he didn't want to investigate.

He returned to the front of the room, curiosity warring with trepidation. He really hoped the others were having better luck that he was, wherever they were. Nothing looked or smelled right. Was this even Hyrule?

He thought about trying to switch back into Twilight again, then dismissed the idea; that coldness lingered in his bones, a warning. Tail low, Wolfie returned to the window, tilting his head one way then the other as he listened for... anything. Besides the occasional cicada and the low, unnatural hum coming from the sign, there was nothing. Even the breeze was gone. He studied the other building, straining to make out any details through the haze, when he saw a flash of movement by the farthest door.

Before Wolfie could make out any details, there was a loud, pitiful, "Aaaahhhh!"

Wolfie didn't let himself think about it; he shouldered open the busted door and raced outside, drawn toward that fearful scream. The desert sand was warm underneath his paws, blessedly lacking in unnatural shadows. Within seconds, he reached the other building, and the haze cleared as though demanding witness to a piece of horror.

A small, purple dog was tied to a post. He chewed frantically at the rope with yellow, rotting teeth, whining and moaning as the rope held. At the other end of the porch, speeding toward the dog with deadly intent, was a spider the size of Wolfie's head.

"Oh no, oh nooo," the dog cried.

#minor blood and horror #lu fic #linked universe #courage the cowardly dog #this was a livewrite this morning lol so sorry if it's rushed #i'll post the whole thing to ao3 possibly after i write the second part #did somebody say MORE SPIDER FIC???#Katz Motel #Courage #Wolfie

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lilana163 · 3 years

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Chapter 1: Reunited//James Potter

April 16, 1960, Druella Black gave birth to twin girls, one the spitting image of her mother. Sharing the same gold locks, down to their perfectly plumped lips. But her eyes, she had blazing stormy orbs.

She was no doubt a Black. The other twin was quite the opposite, she looked exactly like her father, sharing the same raven hair, eye shape, and nose. Though her eyes, she had her mother's eyes. Bright beautiful emerald eyes are what she had. Stunning, yet sad. For those emeralds, orbs would become the only thing truly connecting the young girl to her mother.

Druella Black was a fierce woman, she had the looks of an angel. Though don't underestimate her angel face for even that beauty couldn't resemble who she truly was. Ugly and cruel, served the blonde right. She was a woman who despised muggles, muggle-born, blood traitors, and half-bloods. This hatred was too forever boil up inside her, with no end.

She absolutely hated those outsides of the Sacred Twenty-eight, and Druella Black's hate is not to be underestimated.

Even though being such a cruel woman Druella knew how to love and that adoration shined when with her daughters, Druella would do anything for her little ones, she'd protect her children no matter the consequences.

Though despite being an overprotective mother, that didn't mean her daughters were safe from her grasp. If those girls dare step out of line, their mother wouldn't hesitate on sending a few curses, their way. For these girls had to be impeccable, the perfect pureblood princesses. That is what they had to be.

Perfect.

" Two girls," Cygnus said scrunching up his nose as he gazed at his wife who held his two newborn daughters.

" Yes two girls, are you daft?" Druella rolled her eyes at her husband. Not in the mood to be around the arrogant prat, she was drenched in sweat. Her blonde locks were tied up into a messy bun as few strands covered her face.

" I wanted boys," her husband stated pouting, he crossed his hands over his chest watching how Druella tensed up at his words.

" Girls are better, boys are stinky, annoying, moody, and boys always seem to be running on one brain cell, isn't that right my darling Aurora," Druella replied in her baby voice speaking every word to the newborn in her hands.

" Boys are intelligent, boys can continue the Black name, and boys are strong," Cygnus told his wife who finally turned her attention to her husband, she glared daggers at the man who had a cocky smirk which she so wanted to slap off.

" I've never met an intelligent boy let alone a man and don't underestimate girls hun, they could be just as strong as a boy," Druella smirked seeing Cygnus's smirk fall, he opened his mouth to reply but instead was interrupted by a loud squeal from the doorway.

" The twins are girls!" Walburga gave a thin lip smile seeing her only friend holding the two newest editions to the Black family. The dark-haired woman snatched the blonde baby out of her mother's grasp admiring the tiny human she carried.

" Don't steal her," Druella teased laughing at her friend's actions, she knew how her best friend wanted a girl but instead gave birth to a boy who was now six months old.

" I'll trade her for Sirius," Cygnus joked but the two women didn't find it funny, Druella gave her husband a look that said did he just really say that? while shifting away from the man holding her baby close to her chest.

" Are you sure, Sirius is already a handful," Walburga replies scoffing at the memory of her finding the boy playing with the toilet water.

" No trading kids," Druella commented looking over at the door where her two eldest daughters walked in with a loud six-month-old baby.

" You can take Andy aunt Walburga, she's a pain to all in this manor," Bellatrix grins seeing her younger sister sending a scowling look while playfully biting Sirius's hands making the six-month-old chuckle each time she nibbled lightly on his small fingers.

" Bellatrix," Druella gives her eldest daughter a warning look making her second eldest daughter smirk.

" Sorry Andy, but anyways let me hold my new sister," Bellatrix walked over to her mom gently taking the newborn with the help of her mother.

" What are their names?" Andromeda asks her parents while placing Sirius on her hip.

" The twin Bella is holding is Aurora and the other aunt Walburga has is Narcissa," Cygnus tells his daughter with a toothy grin happy that he took part in naming his daughters this time.

" Welcome to the Black family, Narcissa, and Aurora," Bellatrix grins looking down at the baby admiring the newborn baby smell.

2 years later:

Cygnus and Druella had been constantly arguing about taking the twins outside of the manor, Druella hadn't let anyone other than close family members be around her two youngest daughters, Cygnus couldn't be more annoyed with his wife, it was now time to send their two eldest daughters off to Hogwarts, Druella would love more than anything to accompany her daughters in shopping for school but the only thing stopping her were the twins, Cygnus was keen on Druella taking all daughters down to Diagonally but Druella would make accuse on her two youngest daughters being too young for the world outside the walls of their manor.

" But Cygnus, the twins are too young to be around others, what if we happen to be around half-bloods or muggle born? what then, I will not expose my youngest to that filthy alley where muggle-born and half-bloods roam!" yelled Druella while brushing her long gold locks, Cygnus pinched the bridge to his nose letting out a loud sigh. The man was tired of this conversation, it was what they talked about for months since they first started having children and Druella would use the same argument for each daughter of her on why they shouldn't leave the manor.

" You are taking all of the girls down to Diagonally tomorrow, take Kreacher and Mitzi with you they could help with all four. I am not discussing this any further, the girls need to have a life outside this manor, so quite being stubborn!" Cygnus pointed his finger at his wife who glared daggers at the man standing in front of her.

" They could get a disease," Druella mumbled under her breath yet it was loud enough for her husband to hear.

" Druella Black, you are to listen to me!" Cygnus exclaimed before stomping out of the room slamming the door shut.

As her husband left the room she threw across her sliver hairbrush at the mirror, the mirror that once showed her beautiful reflection was broken into pieces small pieces covering the floor. Druella left the room in fury calling out for Kreacher to supply her with a glass of fire whiskey, she stood in the study looking out at the beautiful field watching her four daughters who leaned on a tree as the three youngest listened to Bellatrix read a story to them.

" Mistress Black, your beverage," Kreacher bowed handing the blonde her drink.

" Kreacher, tomorrow you and Mitzi shall accompany me to Diagon Ally along with the girls, do you understand?" Druella told the house-elf while lighting up a cigarette she so needed, as she put the cigarette between her lips it instantly calmed her, all the anger she felt was now gone the only feeling that went through her body was warmth.

" Kreacher understands mistress Black, and Kreacher will inform Mitzi about mistress Blacks task," Kreacher responded before leaving the room with a pop.

Druella sighed running her long skinny fingers through her gold locks, her beauty seemed to outshine the dark circles and bags that formed in her eyes, the wrinkles she had from furrowing her brows, and her pale skinny figure that showed she hadn't been eating well.

She had been fighting with Cygnus for months now and she hadn't been taking it well, the thought of him wanting his daughters around half-bloods and mudbloods made her sick, coming from a pureblood supremacist family didn't help the thoughts that swam through her mind, she was stubborn and hadn't been willing to drop the topic of exposing the girls to a world beyond their own, it was terrifying to the blonde but she knew when to drop the matter since Cygnus raised his voice which was unusual for his calm persona.

Diagon Ally:

The Black family arrived at the ally by apparating, the blonde stood tall with a green silk dress that fitted her well, along with a black fur coat, she held onto Aurora and Narcissa hands who dressed in matching green dresses with a silver bow on their hair, on Aurora side stood Bellatrix with her outfit slightly similar to her mothers and on the opposite side was Andromeda who wore a green dress with black flats.

All of Diagonally went silent as they saw who appeared, it was rumored that Druella lost her twins during childbirth because no one other than her family had seen the two small girls, whispers were heard as the notorious pureblood family walked into Gringotts looking like they owned the place.

As the family finished the fitting for robes they all walked out hand in hand just like Druella demeaned from her daughters, they halted as a very confused man tapped the shoulder of the blonde woman, hearing loud steps from behind Druella called for Kreacher and Mitzi to take the hands of her youngest daughters, the mother pushed her two eldest in front of her along with the house elves who watched over the young ones. The woman swiftly pulled out a wand turning behind to see who dared to touch her.

" Those are the Blacks don-" Hagrid began but the unknown man had already caught the attention of Druella who scrunched up her nose eyeing the cheap muggle clothing.

" I was just wondering if you could point the direction to Ollivanders, it's I and my family first time in the wizarding world so we're quite lost," the kind man asked showing off his grin while looking at the women in awe of the mention of the wizarding world.

" Muggles? I presume," Druella said with disgust which didn't go unnoticed by Hagrid who ran over to the pair.

" Yes, I'm Jo-" but before the man could finish Druella sent a charm his way, Hagrid gasped at the words which came from the women's mouth.

" Diffindo!" Druella yelled cutting the man's stomach in half and leaving deep gashes on his face, the man was about to fall on the floor but Hagrid was able to catch the man, he stared with a horrified look.

Druella turned around to see her daughters with nothing but fear in their eyes, from behind you could hear Hagrid's loud cries for a healer but no witch would step up in fear that the which who caused such a mess will do worse. The mother ushered for the elves to apparate home with the twins which they did, Druella then took the hands of her two eldest apparating to the front steps of 12 Grimmauld place the dark manor in which all Black family members called home.

" Follow me, girls," Druella commanded Bellatrix and Andromeda followed behind their mother sharing scared glances walking into the drawing-room, they sat down on the couch which Druella stood in front of, she looked at her daughter who stared back at her she let out a sigh shaking her head walking over to the Black family tree.

" You two girls will be attending Hogwarts soon, there are four houses Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin, as members of the Black family I expect you to get into Slytherin, not one of your ancestors have been sorted into anything else but Slytherin, I will not have my daughters besmirching the Black or Rosier name by getting sorted into any other house, there will be consequences if you don't wear the snake on your robes," Druella explained to her girls shooting both a stern look, the two girls nodded in understanding wanting to please their family by getting into the infamous house of Salazar.

" And girls, don't go engaging with half-bloods, blood traitors, and mudbloods. Don't make a mockery out of your blood, you girls are pureblood don't waste time with those who don't matter, and if you do engage with those filthy people who call themselves witches and wizards, mummy and daddy won't be happy, don't make a disappointment out of yourselves, it's easy disowning a family member for your accord," Druella spat with a look of disgust, she would hope that her daughters don't become what she hates the most.

#black family #druella rosier #aurora #james potter #james & peter & remus & sirius #marauders #fan fiction #harry potter

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isoscele · 3 years

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Lumberjanes Week Day 2 - Magical Creatures

It can be boring, learning to tie a knot. Seafarin’ Karen has sympathy for the kids who just can’t sit still, can’t twist their fingers right, lose track of the turns of the rope. She’s got a steady store of work songs saved for those moments when the twitchier ones start to shift around. That part everyone likes; you don’t become a Lumberjane without harboring some secret need to be a part of something bigger than yourself.

Sometimes, though, they’ll ask for a story. She’s got plenty of those, too. It used to be that she wasn’t so good at telling them. Couldn’t get the feeling across--the way the ocean opens out in front of you like an empty hand, and you can’t decide which of your lonelinesses is in the driver’s seat today. Like most things, though, she’s had a lot of practice, and she can now proudly say that she can captivate any audience of preteens.

Sometimes, there’s a kid who has a few more questions. It’s always the ones with the bitten nails, whose skin is a little tighter under the eyes like they haven’t been sleeping. The ones who scan the horizon, heartbeat-quick, when nobody’s looking. They want to know if she’s ever run into anything she really can’t explain, anything that the pre-dawn shadows still sometimes take the shape of.

And--well, okay.

One more story can’t hurt.

What you may not realize about going to sea to seek your fortune is that, in the single act of pushing out from shore, you’re giving up control completely. Maybe you’re used to that--maybe you live with three generations of women who talk about the family blemishes through clenched, smiling teeth and shave with religious devotion. Maybe it’s better this way.

Still, the day will come when you wake up just before the first fingers of dawn pry open the horizon, and your brain will feel like a shipwreck and you will realize that you have misplaced several months of your life.

You won’t know where they went. They can’t have drowned, or marooned, or beached themselves on the rocks. You can’t have just set them down and forgotten where you put them. Only yesterday, you were falling asleep to a sickening heat and a whale song that blanked out your thoughts, and now you are very far away and somewhere in the future and your arms are covered in tentacle-shaped scars that you cannot recall getting. Your galley is stacked with messages in bottles. Your deck is littered with broken glass.

The moon is waxing. You check every time you look up, more out of habit than necessity because yours is a misaligned curse. The air is frigid, and as you watch it starts to snow. You had forgotten that it could snow in the ocean. For a moment, you wonder if you have accidentally left the planet, if you have sailed all the way to some other world where everything is twice as beautiful and there is no land and nothing except for you and the water and the snow.

You should be freezing, but your body is used to these temperatures. It has, it seems, acclimated without you. Still, you rub your arms, note the patchiness of your skin. Your teeth are longer, and sharp enough to saw through rope, but you don’t pay that part any mind. You came here to become something else, after all.

And so you let the snow, golden in your lantern-light, fill your vision until you can’t see anything but the white fog of your breath and the black of the sea. And then you go into your cabin and make yourself some hot cocoa.

You almost fall asleep like that, hands curled around your mug, listening to the gentle shh-shh of water slapping the sides of your boat. You almost dream--jellyfish the size of islands, driftwood blackened by the scrawl of a different language. Carving shaky maps into the sycamore-sized shark tooth lodged in the side of the hull, your pocketknife slipping against its plaque. Singing sea chanties under your breath, all too aware of the attention they might draw.

You’re startled from your spot when the boat starts to rock, faster and with more strength than you’ve ever felt. You stumble out to the deck, hand still curled protectively around your cold cocoa, but the moment you burst through the doors your entire world flashes white.

Your foot catches on a patch of melted snow, and you go down hard.

For a moment, writhing in the unearthly light, you’re certain that you’re dead. Maybe you died in the months you forgot, woke up without knowing you were supposed to be a ghost. Maybe this is the ocean’s way of reminding you.

The light is so bright that it makes every bone in your body warp with pain. It bends the world around you. Even the horizon and the ocean and the moon, the three fixtures by which you’ve lived your life, crumble into nothing under its gaze.

You don’t realize you’re shouting until another voice cuts into yours, one as deep and loud as a whale song.

WHAT DID YOU SAY, she says.

You squeeze your eyes shut. Angel, alien, something in between. The deep, finally getting its jaws around you. “What are you?”

She doesn’t respond, so you look up again. It’s stupid to, but you can’t help it.

The light hasn’t dimmed at all, but your eyes are adjusting a little. You can just make out her outline.

She’s huge, and wrapped entirely around your ship. Most of her body is black and slick and leathery, and her hands are webbed, cupping the sides of the boat like a child holding a toy.

The light, with all its infinite and terrible brightness, dangles from a stalk on her forehead. Behind it, you can just make out her teeth.

You understand two things at once, flat on your back with snow scavenging your skin and the light burning into your eyes. One, anglerfish are only ever found in the deep, built to hypnotize fish who have never seen light.

Two, you must therefore now be in the deep. It doesn’t matter that your head’s above water, that the moon must still be pulsing weakly somewhere above you. In some way, in some world, you have found yourself in the deep.

Here is another thing you may not realize about going to sea to seek your fortune: there will always be a hole in your maps. You will sketch coastlines into a thousand pieces of paper, the underside of the table, the loose skin of your hands, and there will always be a spot where the ink never dries. Where your finger skates across the surface, landing on the other side.

A patch of sea, no bigger than the pad of your finger, that balks all attempts to be charted.

In this no-man’s-land, the anglerfish woman will pick you up with one clammy hand, hold you up to her enormous, pearly eye. The flesh of her fingers will press against you in damp sacks. She will smell so much like salt that even you, who have smelled nothing else for years, will find yourself unconsciously leaning closer.

Bioluminescent strands of hair extend from her chin and stomach and the baulds of her knuckles, tracking slow lines through the snow. Her eyes will follow you, huge and pale and glistening. Her teeth--God, you can’t even think about her teeth. Her teeth must look the way the ocean does to a person who has never seen the ocean. The way the stars do to a newborn animal just opening its eyes.

Her light sways, flurried by an endless smudge of snow. She’s absolutely, unfathomably beautiful.

YOU ARE VERY STRANGE, she says. AND VERY WARM.

You can’t speak. You can’t remember if you ever could.

YOU ARE TOO SMALL TO HAVE SURVIVED THIS FAR. BUT HERE YOU ARE.

“Here I am,” you manage. “I’m--I’m very glad to be here. With you.”

Silence. She circles your boat, holding you aloft. YOU MUST BE STRONG.

You don’t know if this is an observation or a piece of advice. Regardless, you nod. You can feel your bones stretch, wanting to shift. You don’t know what that means, the way the oldest thing inhabiting your body aches to be with her.

You lean against her massive ridge of wrist. The ocean laps at your sides, seeping in through the gaps of her fingers. The snow, lit both by the moon and by her, blisters across your skin. Here, you feel both all-consumed and all-consuming. You feel wild, invincible, incalculably small.

But you are a guest here, and it’s time for you to remember that.

“Would you like some hot cocoa?”

One last thing you may not realize about the sea is that it changes when you aren’t looking.

Years later, when your skin is rougher and your muscles are harder and your brain chemistry has begun to lean towards the wilderness, you will again seek out the holes in your maps. Driven only by the salt under your nails and a mad memory of light, you will station yourself at the mast and wait to lose some time.

But instead of ocean, instead of massive hands and beautiful teeth, you will find yourself in the middle of a lake surrounded by forest.

Again, your body will know this landscape like its own. You won’t be afraid, even as you stare into the shallows.

And then, maybe, a woman will emerge from the treeline, her hair perfectly coiffed, her shirt starched, badges stretched across her chest like so many scales.

And maybe she will look at you like she has never been less surprised in her life. And she will open her mouth, and she will say--

but this story’s run long. Seafarin’ Karen can read an audience with the best of them. The kids are shifting around again, and the knots look great, and it’s almost time for their hike, anyway. She should probably let them go.

With any luck, they’ll have a good summer. It’s the only hope she holds onto, these days.

#i normally wouldn't ever say this about a lumberjanes fic but i want to make it clear here that seafarin' karen 100% would bang #in case that wasn't obvious #lumberjanes #lumberjanes week #my writing

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mintchocohip · 4 years

Note

Hi love, would it be alright if I requested an overstimulation oneshot with Joonie? Thanks a lot

➤ pairing: namjoon x reader | wordcount: 2.5k

➤ kink: light overstimulation, vocal!joonie

➤ notes: is namjoon a sub in this fic? possibly. first-time-together pwp and light fluff!

“Don’t stop,” your gasp hiccups—you can sense that there’s one final pulse filling the hastily rummaged-for condom through Namjoon’s instant, amazed silence—“keep going. Don’t stop.” The man on top of you manages a long, slow, instinctual finishing thrust. “Don’t stop.”

The wait is excruciating.

You slit your eyes open to watch Namjoon’s stupid bliss fade. He’s a silhouette. Night dropped fast. Eyelids shake in the dim light; blue is curving around his face to suggest soft features. His brows lower. Namjoon closes his flushed, parted lips. He’s close enough to pull down into a kiss. You’re too hypnotized by the sparkle on his teeth and the impression that his cheeks must be rosy to try.

Beams of pink and purple sunset colored your neighbor’s apartment doorway a few hard, fast minutes ago. Namjoon realized he was staring at your lips after conversation about his university linguistics courses petered into silence. He snapped his eyes up. You smiled. Namjoon swallowed nervously, but his breath was heavy with intrigue when he started to lean in before quickly glancing up to check your expression. It’s cute that he got so embarrassed when you showed him you want the same thing.

Everything in this bedroom full of succulents and laden bookshelves is glowing with slivers of blue hour that have managed to filter in behind light-blocking curtains. It feels like a dream. You fix a tighter grasp onto the back of Namjoon’s neck and brush some of the damp hair off his slicked forehead.

You aren’t impatient. The hand on the back of his neck is still gripped down firmly. Your legs are wrapped around his hips. You can wait for him to regain his composure.

“Come on, baby,” you try not to exhale it through grit teeth when you wait, and wait, and nothing is happening—“come on. Keep going. Don’t stop. I'm close. Give me more.”

Namjoon’s elbow dropped to the side when he started to gasp. You wanted to savor those beautiful noises. He was so quiet up until that precious moment. Despite your attempts to collect yourself enough to speak and tell him to stay inside convincing yourself that it was better to whisper “come for me, baby. Get loud for me—” was instantaneous as soon as you heard the faintest rasp of a moan.

Luckily, Namjoon isn’t moving. The hand planted on the back of his neck stays firm. Your other hand strokes his temple. You’re curling a devious smile at him and hoping he sees it as his eyes start to open.

“Fuck,” you laugh when an attempt to pet his naked shoulder instantly slicks your hand down onto his bicep, “you sweat a lot.” You pull your knees in to give yourself a cloudy rush of weak-muscled thighs and warmth falling up your body—and to remind Namjoon you’re locked around him.

“Sorry.” Namjoon blinks hard and shakes his head like he just realized where he is. “Yeah. Sorry. If I. Uh. Dripped. On you.” It’s a mild summer night. The A/C in his room is equally tepid.

“I love the sweat. I really love it.”

“Oh.” Namjoon glances down to check out his shimmery chest. “Thanks.” Clarity is spreading over his features. Light shines over his eyes as he searches the darkness.

“Don’t stop. I’m close.”

“Don’t stop?”

“You heard me. I must’ve said it ten times, baby.”

Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow down and he swallows hard like he’s trying to understand what you’re saying.

“Sorry. I didn’t hear. Okay. One second. Just need to. Um.”

“Want to stop?”

“No.”

“Thirsty?”

“No.”

“Does it hurt too much for you? Doing it like this? You can use your fingers instead.”

“Um. One second.”

Pressure shifts. A satisfied gasp drops your head back into the mattress.

“Fuck—” The world was already lifted, but as Namjoon lifts himself up and readjusts his position in an awkward shuffle of limbs it rises higher. “Good, baby. Don’t stop,” you claw the nape of his hair when you feel his—shockingly liquid; shockingly skilled—hips angle until thighs press fresh against your ass. “Don’t stop. When I say don’t stop,” short, ragged fingernails dig into the back of Namjoon’s neck as a tepid movement inside of you shivers down to your curling toes, “I mean don’t stop. You were fucking me hard before you came.” A growl in your voice is the side-effect of pleasure. And expectation. “You can fuck me hard after. Can’t you?”

A puff of air hits your cheek. It tickles. You want to laugh; you swallow down the urge. If Namjoon needed to exhale a sound of self-encouragement he has every right to.

“Okay.” Namjoon nods. “Okay.” Springs creak. Namjoon’s breath is rhythmic again, the way it got right before he came—“Shit.” Skin slaps—you suck in a breath and slide your ankles together.

“Thank you,” your senses are teetering back into the blurs of color you were tasting before Namjoon needed a moment, “good.” The last word is a faint whisper. “Perfect.”

Momentum builds slowly. A faintness in your muscles and a warmth under your skin was almost forgotten; despite the little gasp he just sucked in Namjoon is doing an amazing job of bringing it back for you.

“Just like that. Just like that. Why is it so big,” you’re grateful he looked sweet and hot apologizing needlessly about his inability to remember where he put his condoms that it made you ache harder until he was ready and asking if his somewhat unwieldy length was in too deep, “good…” you talk nonsense until you lose the will to say something that isn’t fuck—“...you’re still hard, aren’t you? But, even if you weren’t... big enough to stay inside...”

Your eyes open. Namjoon's whole body just shook. Hard.

Between your own shudder from your chest down to your cunt and a rush of your throaty moans in your ear that sound like a stranger it’s impossible to notice how hoarse and strained Namjoon’s breathing is. You knew you were close, but it feels like he barely had to try.

“Is that you, or me?” You can’t let yourself question whether or not you just heard Namjoon whimper. Focusing on anything but shutting off your brain isn’t important right now. Still, your mouth gasps out freeforming thoughts before you can shoo them away. “Was that you, baby? A whimper... It sounded so pretty...”

The things you say when you’re about to come are always some stream-of-conscious praise festival. Namjoon must be appreciating it, because he’s finding a new angle and pushing harder.

“You’re really hot,” praise sounds vaguely like a threat now that you’re this close and frustrated by a tantalizing glimpse, “really hot. Fuck. Baby, really... Whenever I saw you. I couldn’t stop thinking about what you looked like naked and tied... up... uh...” you’re glad you just got bowled over by a wave of breathtaking heat. Pleasure tugs your senses out of your body and leaves you with visions of sparks to keep you entertained until you can conceptualize how amazing that just felt.

Starry curtains flutter away slowly. Darkness behind your eyes reveals itself. An aftershock tries to double you over but all it can do while you’re flat on your back is freeze up midway through squeezing Namjoon down onto your body. Fluttering motionless, you hold him, and wait.

“That was...” You realize your cunt is sharing some of your body’s resources again because you’re ungripping a handful of Namjoon’s back willingly. Your arms drop and you slide your legs out onto the cool sheets. “Good, baby.” You smile consciously.

A piece of popcorn at the bottom of the bag just popped. Neon orange, and flaring. That’s what it feels like. Namjoon flies off your body and lands with a dry thwip onto the sheets somewhere to your left.

You listen to your laugh fading into a contented sigh. Muffled heat in your ears is clearing away to reveal layers. Namjoon is sucking in slow breaths. Birds have stopped talking outside. Opening your eyes to a black ceiling slashed with grey is a wave of confusion. The blue hour has faded into pure night. You roll your head and glance at the man on the bed next to you. It gives you a broad view of a bedroom that has abandoned shape and the lines of furniture and electronics into a deeper darkness. The headset Namjoon hung on the back of his chair earlier while rummaging through the desk is staring a pinpoint of green light at you.

A part of the soothing darkness. That’s what you feel like. You were sitting up formless and weightless to crawl over Namjoon and give his shoulder a kiss. The journey pauses. An arm just slid out towards you. Fingertips are pressing against your forearm.

“I’m tired,” Namjoon states.

“Oh. Okay. Not in the mood for cuddles?”

“Cuddles?” Namjoon’s shadowed body turns towards where you’re half-laying, half-sitting on the sheets next to him.

Everything smells like sex. Sex, and linen sheets that’ve been broken in by a few months of hot, sweaty nights.

“Got a problem with that?”

“No. Uh... oh. Sorry. I thought maybe... you wanted to play with my cock or something."

“What,” you groan, “do you think I’m a succubus? We fucked. It was good. I really like you... I’m not going to ask for more than that, baby.” You add an addendum. “Unless you’re a naughty boy. Who needs to get punished.”

“Are... you being serious right now?”

“I...”

You stop.

It’s a bracing moment. You roll what you want to say around in your head. You don’t want Namjoon to get the wrong idea about how you feel.

This man wandered into the apartment complex in the springtime and instantly lit up the dreary hallways with his pretty face. You were intrigued. Giving him pointers about how frequently the landlady pops in unannounced, the old lady on the second floor who’ll bake special brownies for friends who sit with her and talk about vintage cars, and where to find good dry cleaning in the area was all it took for him to cling to you.

Sussing if Namjoon’s kinky is important to you. He gives you vibes, sometimes. Kinky vibes. You’re used to people checking out your thighs. Namjoon looks nervous when he glances at your legs. Not like he’s scared—more like he can’t let himself think too hard about what they could do to him.

“I’m joking.” It’s the best you can manage.

“You said... you like me?”

You blink hard. And, you give Namjoon a sudden, keen smile.

“Oh. I wasn’t joking about that. I like you a lot.”

Excitation begs you to move and keep yourself busy. You sit up and lean over Namjoon’s body to delicately stroke down the ring of the condom. Namjoon gasps as your fingers brush over the swollen tip of his cock on the downwards journey to free him.

“I really like you, too.”

“Now I want to punish you for making my heart flutter. But... damn.” Reflected light shimmers wet as you tie the condom off in the air above your tits. “You come a lot. Wow.” Before it gets tossed it into shadows welling around the bed you take a moment to squish the condom’s loaded tip between your fingers.

Namjoon sighs hard.

“Sorry,” you laugh.

“I might have come twice. It happens sometimes.”

“Impressive.”

“Nah. It’s just natural for me.”

“Do you think the Amazon rainforest isn’t impressive? Or Niagara falls? Those things are natural, but they’re still impressive.”

Sliding your thumb over his hip bone, you gaze at Namjoon’s exhaustion while he pulls a hand up through his hair. Damp from his forehead streaks up the roots and into the mess of wisps.

“It really is just a joke,” you sigh. “The punishment stuff... I kind of wanted to know if you’re into stuff like that, you know. See how you’d respond. Don’t take it seriously. I really do like you.”

“No. It’s fine.” The sweetness in his hushed voice muffles every word. You’ve never heard Namjoon speak this softly. Even if you’re straining to understand him, you aren’t complaining. “If… you’re bored.”

“Bored?”

“You can...”

“Use your words, Namjoon.”

You can’t see it clearly, but you have a feeling Namjoon is shooting a mild glare in your direction.

“What do I want to say,” Namjoon wonders aloud with an exhale of sarcasm. He pets the mattress with his fingertips and rolls his head to the side. Transitioning into sincerity gives his voice a shy twinge. “So. You. Like stuff like that? Making it hurt a little bit?”

“Yeah.”

“Me, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Oh...” Namjoon swallows hard. Your eyes have adjusted to the light enough to see his dreamy expression break. “No. I forgot.”

“Let’s order takeout.”

“Oh.” Softness in Namjoon’s relaxing shoulders looks a little bit like disappointment. “Sure.”

“We’ll talk about this thing...” You were swimming circles around the urge. Getting sucked into it is a lovely feeling. It’s a weightless movement; he’s warm; not hot, not yet—you slide Namjoon into your hands and give the underhead of his cock a drag with your thumbnail. “...Later.”

The choke is the cutest thing you’ve ever heard.

Excitement and intrigue surge through your stomach and into your thighs and clear up the air around your head like Namjoon’s tiny, weak hitch of breath was bubbly refreshment. You did hear snippets of something lovely, earlier. Time was a flash. But, not all of your perceptions are fucking with you tonight.

Visions are swirling through your mind. For a moment, curiosities and desires leave you breathless.

You only realize what you’re doing when Namjoon’s whole body pulls in. As he makes the movements of sitting up he laughs nervously and twitches a hand down his flat stomach.

You follow the movement. You stare at where he’s attempting to touch your wrist. At some point, you started stroking Namjoon’s damp slit with your thumb. Out of boredom; out of nature.

“Takeout. Right.” Licking your lips quickly reminds you where you are. Forcibly spreading your fingers out to let go is a monumental effort to not get distracted into spending the whole night discovering what you need to do to pull beautiful moans out of this beautiful man. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about me.” Namjoon is talking slightly too loud. He sits up, reaches for a pillow to wrap his elbow around awkwardly, and attempts a casual sigh. “I know how to say that it’s too much. Like, putting my hand down, I guess. I just want you to know that I like it."

“Good,” you whisper fondly. “Good to know.”

Moments shared with Namjoon always pass quickly. Catching up with each other in the apartment lobby between weekend errands is a breeze. Talking about music, the news, the stress of his school life, and your latest kickboxing match while flirting idly when you catch each other in the convenience store during late-night grocery runs is free from any stuffy ideas of obligation to small-talk with a neighbor. It just feels natural, and right. You’ve been wanting more for a while now. Maybe you were so eager to spend time with him a summer sunset passed instantaneously.

“I know a kebab place that’ll blow your mind. Let me order real quick.” You pet Namjoon’s ankle before sitting up to slide off the bed and fish your phone out of the crumpled ball of fabric that once resembled your sweatpants. “Veggies and meat, veggies and meat... Yeah, you seem good at... telling me when. Let’s talk about this more. It’s good to know, baby. Thanks for telling me,” you ramble mindlessly. “Good to know you can take it. So. Yeah. Until you say when... I won’t stop.”

#ask #anonymous #sub!namjoon #domme!reader #namjoon x reader #mch #fic #namjoon solo

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writinginthedarkwood · 4 years

Text

Kistune! Todoroki Part 2.

A sequel to my most popular post! Part one is here -> https://writinginthedarkwood.tumblr.com/post/188178949954/kitsune-todoroki-a-mischievous-encounter (I have no clue how to make my links small someone send help plz lmao)

Warnings: nsfw. I know what you sinners want.

“Good morning Master Shoto.” The air smelled very crisp and clean like it does everyday. I took a deep breath as my feet padded gently across the stone floor towards the meditating yokai. I brought the tray of tea to the flat rock in front of him and set it down. The porcelain clattered just a bit against the wooden tray, I began our morning routine by pouring him his cup first, and then mine.

Shoto took a deep breath, his ear twitching a bit to the sound of the birds crying above us, large twisted looking things with beady eyes. “We have a few black birds visiting our shrine today Master Shoto.” I smiled a bit, speaking quietly. Shoto loved to hear the sounds of the morning, nothing more relaxing to him then the sunshine slowly heating up the day while all of the forests creatures woke up. Shoto opened one eye, his face twisting suspiciously as he looked around. “Crows... never really liked them much.” He spit out just above a whisper. The large birds cawed loudly, their screeches much louder than the singing birds we usually hear. Shoto sighed and uncrossed his legs, pulling himself up to stand and look at the roof of our home. “Did you need something?” He asked sternly. “Or did you come all this way to ruin my morning and ruin my morning alone?”

The big black birds flapped their wings, rushing off of the roof and into the air, spiraling around Shoto. Midnight black feathers fell off of the birds into a pile at Shoto’s feet. The birds flew away in a perfect “V” formation.

Shoto picked one of the feathers off of the ground and twirled it in his finger for a moment. “How strange...” I said under my breath. The feather changed shape with an electric “pop” Shoto dropped it quickly, a yellow tinted piece of paper floated gently to the ground. I quickly picked it up for him, handing him the paper to read it over.

“Ah, it seems that I’ve been invited to a wedding, my love.” Shoto folded the paper in half and handed it to me. “Would you please put this somewhere for safe keeping?” I nodded my head yes and kissed his cheek.

Shoto didn’t explicitly state that I COULDN’T read the letter for myself... but he didn’t exactly offer for me the chance... I tossed the idea around in my head for just a moment before quickly unfolding the paper.

It was letters I didn’t understand at all. I’ve been quite proud of my reading comprehension skills, I can even speak some languages in the West but... I’ve never seen characters quite like this before.

I pouted and put the paper in kitchen where I could easily find it.

All afternoon I followed Shoto as he walked the grounds. We spend a lot of our day’s gardening together. Shoto doesn’t think it’s safe for me to spend time outside of our home without him. I haven’t noticed many differences these past few weeks from the village, the weather is the same, the animals are the same, the sun rises and sets at a normal time... yet I can tell I’m somewhere different than before.

Something in the air is different, like I’m somehow walking a dream.

“Look now darling!” Shoto called to me. I turned to look over my shoulder. I was sitting crouched by our collection of orchids. Shoto proudly pointed above his head to the branches of our persimmon tree. “It’s fruiting.” He can be so stoic at times, his face often showing little emotion. I smiled brightly at the beaming kitsune. “Could I try one Master Shoto?” I wiped the dirt off of my hands onto my apron. I walked to him and he cupped my face gently. His thumb brushed over my cheek. “You have dirt on you, silly human.” His angelic face smirked at me, his mysterious eyes staring at me with all of the love in his heart. Without breaking eye contact, he stuck his palm out, a persimmon falling perfectly into his hand. He studied the fruit before taking a bite out of it. I reached for the treat to take a bite myself and he pulled the fruit away. “This one is for me! You’ll have to get your own little-” I snatched the persimmon out of his hand, interrupting him and quickly taking a huge bite. “Why you-” He chased me around the tree, grabbing at my yukata and laughing his deep raspy laugh. I dodged his grasp and giggled as I ran from him through our flowers and herbs. “You can’t catch me!” I called out, my bare feet carrying me quickly through the weaving pathway.

“Oh can’t I?” Shoto popped in front of me, his form appearing in a blink of the eye. I gasped and collided with his chest, knocking us both over. The persimmon rolled into the mud, as we both laughed. His chest rumbled with me on top of him, I laid my head on his shoulder and kissed his neck between fits of giggles.

We settled a bit and his eyes lingered over my mouth. Without a thought we connected, our lips brushing together softly.

The sound of loud branches cracking broke our kiss. My head snapped up and Shoto rolled me gently off of his chest and onto the ground. He looked around, his face cold as he listened for movement. His ears moved with the sound of the wind, his eyes didn’t leave the tree line.

He sniffed the air and placed an arm over my chest. “Go inside and sit by the shrine.” His voice was steady, completely focused. “Wh-what is it Shoto?”

A low throat growl slipped past his lips as he commanded me. “Now.”

I sprinted inside of our home and threw our bedroom door open. The fountain trickled happily with the bonzai tree’s roots pulsing as it drank up the crystal clear water. I sat on the ground and scooted close to the stone, not exactly sure how close I’m supposed to sit. I let my back touch the fountain and I waited in eerie silence.

It was only a few moments before I heard Shoto call my name. He opened the sliding paper door.

With him was a strange looking man. He wore dark clothes, and had wild yellow hair. He had huge black wings folded against his back, and his smile was wide and oddly, not kind.

I stood and bowed to the guest, nobody has come to visit us before. “This is my servant, Y/N. Would you like her to make us some tea, Kaminari?” The man stepped further inside of the room, his eyes wandering around to the ceiling, the floor, the shrine, and finally back to me.

“Kind of a quaint place you have here Todoroki. Didn’t your style used to be more... grand?” He talked to Shoto without breaking his gaze from me. I shifted uncomfortably and looked to Shoto for some type of guidance. His eyes were locked onto the back of this mans head. “The name is Kaminari! I’m the leader of a Tengu clan that’s settled in the Western world...” He tilted his head as he looked me over. “A little birdy told me Shoto had taken a human mate...” He chuckled a bit. “I didn’t believe that could be true... I mean humans aren’t really his style...”

“I already told you Kaminari, she’s my servant. We made a deal.” Kaminari laughed and put a hand on my shoulder. Shoto tensed up, but didn’t move. “See I found myself a gorgeous human girl of my own, I bought her from some scuzz bag in this dinky town I’m running.” He clicked his tongue. “Of course I had to invite my old buddy to see this bachelor finally get off the market! I thought for a minute maybe you were copying me, but sense she’s just a servant...” He put another hand on my other shoulder, giving me a light shake. I didn’t dare move. “How much do you want for her? My clan mates are really jealous, they had no clue humans could make good mates.” He put to fingers on my chin and pinched. “She’s pretty cute, Sero would be more than happy to mate with this one.” I swallowed hard, my body trembled as his thumbs hooked onto my shoulder blade, a strange sensation rippling over my skin. It felt like the air after a lightning storm, but on my body.

“Sorry, she’s not for sale.” Shoto crossed his arms and shrugged his shoulders. “Oh come on, a lady of such high quality shouldn’t be limited to working her whole life.” He grabbed a strand of my hair and twirled it in his fingers. “What was the price you paid to be indebted to such a monster little dove? Whatever it is I’ll pay it.”

My voice caught in my throat and I looked down at the floor. “P-please don’t call Master Shoto a monster...” I didn’t dare look him in the face. His breath was cold against the back of my neck. “And why not? He has you locked in this shabby little shack, tilling his gardens and pouring him tea? My clan is very wealthy, my brother would treat you well, give you beautiful little half breed children.”

The sound of something sharp whistled through the air, the tengu was torn away from me and slammed against the wall. Kaminari laughed, he ripped an icicle out of his jacket that had him pinned to the wood. He tossed it to the ground with a smile. Something burned in Shoto’s eyes, his finger was pointed at the tengu, ice forming around his wrist.

“Enough is enough, Kaminari.” Shoto hissed through clenched teeth.

I rushed to Shoto and hid behind him, touching his back and hiding part of my face behind his long hair. “Just a servant then, huh kitsune?” He held his hands in the air with a smug smile. “You don’t have to lie to your old pal. I won’t tell your little secret, but uh, I’ll let you know.” He shook his shoulders and his wings expanded, a harsh breeze rushing across the room with a spray of feathers. “I’m not the only one that’s caught scent of your little...” He thought for a moment. “Well, whatever you two are. If you were planning on making things official... I’d do it soon.” He straightened out his coat and winked at the two of us before disappearing in a gust of black feathers.

We ate dinner in relative silence. Shoto could see I had a million questions racing in my mind, the tension in the air was thick enough to cut it with the knife he was using to cut our meat. “The rabbit you caught came out delicious. Do you like these spices with it Shoto?” He nodded a bit, looking over my head at the wall. After the tengu left, Shoto spent the rest of the day meditating on the roof. I prepared dinner and sang to myself, trying to keep busy when I’m itching to push him for explanations.

I don’t feel like a servant, I love to make his meals and tea. I love keeping our clothes clean, the shrine beautiful and our plants happy.

We dance at night time to the sounds of singing crickets. They chirp unnatural melodies, sounding more like violins than any bug I’ve heard. No I don’t feel like a servant at all, I love my life with him.

I love him.

“Why don’t we star gaze tonight? I think I saw a shooting star the other night and I want to see another.” I just about cleared my plate of the rest of the rice. I sipped my water, eyeing Shoto to see if he had anything to add to the conversation. Shoto laid his head on his hand and winced in pain. He groaned and took a jagged breath. “Shoto love? Are you alright?” I reached to touch his hand and he pulled away. Shoto’s eye’s burned bright red, glowing from behind his finger tips. I recoiled, not in fear but in shock. He stood quickly from our meal and headed for the door. “Shoto!” I crossed my arms and furrowed my brow at him. “Please tell me what’s going on.” He stumbled a bit in the doorway, shaking his head and shivering. “It’s nothing.” His eyes were normal. He opened the door and the night air crept in, giving me a bit of a chill. “I’ll be back in a little bit.” He shut the door behind him with a slam. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes, why the sudden attitude? I cleared out our dinner bowls and scraped them clean. I guess with all of the chores done and the sudden alone time, I could take a bath and wash off today’s strange aura. I grabbed my favorite soap scented with lavender and a clean cloth towel off of the drying line.

Our bath house is built over a natural hot spring, the hot water is surrounded by smooth stone. The simple wooden walls connect at a point on the ceiling, leaving a small round hole for the moon to shine through.

The soap ran across my skin and lathered. I hummed to myself, I scrunched my hair over the edge of the water into a bucket, letting the suds reach deep to my skull. I hate to get too much soap in the spring, but it always seems to find a way to filter out.

I finished washing my hair and laid my head against the rock and closed my eyes, just letting the cool texture create a contrast that eased some of the tension I carried in my neck today.

The door slid open, the walls shaking a bit as the flimsy wood clashed against the wall. I didn’t open my eyes, if Shoto would like to continue throwing a tantrum, that was his choice. I tried not to smile, I don’t want him to know how happy I am he caught me in such an intimate moment. “Hello Master.” I said through a straight mouth.

“Get out of the water.” His voice sounded hollow, like he was in several places at once. The tone low and incredibly raspy. I opened one eye and peered at him.

My jaw dropped and I gasped. “Shoto...?” His eyes were burning with a furious light, his beautiful kimono was gone, naked with his member completely alert. He had a strange new addition to his body, he had a tail. No, several tails floating behind him like they were blowing in the wind. His jagged and sharp teeth bit down onto his lip, drawing a bit of golden blood. He was over to me in a second, pulling me out of the water and pressing me against the stone. My breath caught in my chest, his lips smashing down on top of mine. His teeth knocked against mine, his tongue jamming into my mouth. I pressed both of my hands onto his shoulders and pushed, gasping for air. “What has gotten into you?” Shoto let out a low animalistic growl. His chest was heaving, his breath very shallow like he wasn’t getting any air. “Listen I-” He traced his hands up the side of my body, his fingers drinking up all of the details of my skin. I closed my eyes, his touch making me practically purr. “I need you... I’m going to take you right now.” He pulled my hips to sit center underneath of him, adjusting me so that he could put himself between my legs. “Master...” My eyes rolled into the back of my head as he positioned his tip to fit between my clenched walls. He massaged the area for just a second before stuffing his cock right into me. He wasted no time working up a pace. He thrust into me with wild fever, holding my hips pinned down against the floor. His thumbs dug into my flesh, sure to leave little marks tomorrow. I couldn’t control the sounds leaving my mouth, little moans slipping out. He bit down on my neck, not slowing down his pace at all. I cried out, his teeth sharp and drawing a bit of blood. “Shh, shh love.” He groaned in my ear. “You need a mark from me...” He kissed over the tender spot on my neck. “Sh-shoto.. hng~” I gripped onto his back, my heat pooled onto him. The sound of him slipping into me was loud and slick, he slowed just a bit, every inch of him filling my hole. My sensitivity was building, the pressure built in my core. “Do you like taking my cock Y/N?” He nipped at my ear lobe. “Y-yes Master.” He stopped thrusting, holding his cock deep inside of me but completely still. “I can’t let any other creature have you.” He held my face, kissing along my jaw line between words. “I don’t want anyone else Master...” He smiled against my skin, pulling out of me suddenly. The pressure inside of me halted, my stomach rolled as my body begged to have a climax. Shoto pulled me off of the stone and flipped me to my knees. He bent my body forward, my face pressed against the rock. He grabbed both of my hands and held them behind my back, his strength keeping me suspended in the air just off of the ground. His hips bucked into me, bouncing me against him over and over again with a hypnotic pattern. I can’t do anything but cry out, repeating his name over and over again as my body burned. The sounds he was making were absolutely primal, he growled viciously, fucking me with every bit of his strength. I screamed, my walls clenching around him as my body rocked with pleasure. His breath hitched, his body tensed up, his hands wrapping tighter around my wrists. “Your pleasure is milking me-” He pressed himself against me as hard as he could.

Ropes of cum spilled out of him and against my cervix. He came with enough volume that the virile fluid spilled out and onto my thighs. He took a moment to take a deep breath before pressing me flat against the stone, letting my arms go. His chest pressed against my back, his breath tickled the back of my neck. “I’m not finished with you yet. You’ll be taking my load until dawn breaks.”

I studied the interesting mark in the glass mirror. The morning light shown through the window. It didn’t look like a normal bite mark, it resembled more of a tattoo. Where the teeth marks should have been were actually dots in the pattern of a blue orchid. “My mark looks beautiful on you.” Shoto sat behind me holding my waist with his strong arms. “What does it mean?” I rested my head on him, letting his wandering hands soothe me. “It means that you are my mate.” He hesitated for a moment, admiring it on me before finishing his thought. “I go through reproductive cycles. There will be nights like last night where I...” He almost looked embarrassed, but if you didn’t know him as well as I you would never notice. “I just feel the urge to breed.”

I let out a giggle and he frowned. “Are you laughing at me?”

“Of course not. It feels good to be wanted that badly.” My body felt very sore. It’s hard to keep up with the stamina of such a ravenous beast. “I think seeing that tengu touch you unlocked a side of me I have been repressing for a long time now.” He kissed my cheek. “I love you Shoto. I’m happy to be your... mate.” I giggled and he squeezed me tighter. “I love you my little human, and I will until the sun dies.”

Have you read Tengu Kaminari’s story? It’s tagged under # inthewoods yokai if you haven’t :)

Please consider donating to my Ko Fi account. The link is in my bio. I love you, my requests are open!

#inthewoods yokai #bnha lemon #kitsune todoroki #monster boy #bnha imagines #bnha smut #shoto todoroki smut #shoto todoroki x reader #bnha monster au #my hero academia #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #shoto x reader

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rekutopia · 4 years

Text

In which Obi lets Shirayuki sleep

A part of the Flatmate AU (one, two, three, in accidental order)

Jesus fucking christ.

At one point in his life, Obi had decided to restrain himself from cursing as soon as he became a professional and started working. It was only to his benefit if he could quit the bad habit before it starts to manifest itself at work. That’s what he thought an exemplary adult should do.

He entered the working world around six years ago. A couple of years of rude patients and whiny co-workers later he revisited the thought and rephrased his intention to stop cursing as soon as he turned thirty – this time for sure. Changing workplace might also help.

Last year he turned thirty. And he had changed his workplace. Twice. Good thing he never told anyone about this particular resolution, seeing that the amount of cursing was, if anything, increasing. Especially in the past one year and three months, ever since he shared his living space with a certain redhead.

Now, Obi had always been a perfect gentleman towards his flatmate. Never did he use dirty words in any form whatsoever whenever Shirayuki was around. Even when he once stubbed his toe on the new washing machine she had installed into their bathroom he managed to merely let out an incomprehensible sound instead of the usual ‘FUCK!’. Boy, did he patted himself proudly on the back after that.

No. Especially at home, that increasing amount of cursing was inaudible, though not less loud inside his head. These were usually directed towards situations he would never believe could happen if he hadn't experienced them himself.

Right now was a perfect example.

Obi was lying on the couch under the colourful blanket Shirayuki’s grandma had quilted for her. The living space was dark and toasty. Through the window, Obi could see the snowflakes slowly piling on the balcony.

There was cheeky accordion music playing in the background. Onto the wall, the projector was beaming the end credit of Amélie, one of Shirayuki’s favourite movies to watch when she was upset (and when she was happy – actually, it’s her all-time favourite movie ever). Shirayuki herself was lying beside him, under the same blanket, sleeping peacefully.

Would that be reason enough for Obi to curse? Well, half a year ago it would.

In fact, Obi had cursed when Shirayuki had started to sit closer to him so that their knees touched whenever they did their movie nights. He had also cursed when a couple of movie nights later she suddenly suggested they could just lie down for watching. “It’s more comfortable this way”, she had told him, and who was he to say no when it’s true?

When she next casually tangled their legs together like it’s the most natural thing in the world Obi thought his curses should have finally reached the heavens’ ears since the torture level didn’t step up further after that.

And so Obi thought he was over it. He thought he had hardened up until all that had become quite a normality. He could finally enjoy Shirayuki’s closeness and body heat without having his heart jumping up and down like a happy puppy in his ribcage all the time.

Until tonight. Tonight was the end of it. He must have done something to awaken the heavens’ wrath that they decided to continue his punishment.

Obi glanced down at his sleeping flatmate, whose head was nestling comfortably on his shoulder. Both her arms were encircling his right arm – in fact, her whole tiny body was snuggling up to him. Her right leg was rested rudely on top of his right leg like it belonged there, her knee dangerously close to his crotch. He could feel her breasts where they pressed way too innocently against his arm, rising and falling softly with each breath she took. She was purring lightly, like a tired little kitten.

What the fuck did I do in my previous life to deserve this.

He had been lying entirely still ever since Shirayuki fell asleep, not even five minutes after the movie had started. That was more or less two hours ago. Despite years of practice, neither yoga breathing nor meditation could make him relax his stiff body. This was just a different level of suffering.

Carefully, Obi turned his head to his right while contemplating whether he should just wake up his snoring flatmate. His nose almost brushed the top of her head and he caught a whiff of her shampoo. Correction. His shampoo. Because when a wet, crying, wrapped-only-in-a-towel girl announced angrily that she was out of shampoo and that she was going to use yours, you nod and let her use yours. No questions asked.

Just, what the hell even happened?

When Obi arrived home that night, instead of the usual ‘welcome home’ he was greeted by a sobbing pile of pillows and blanket on the couch. A bit of prodding and shaking didn’t award him with anything much, only that the pile curled further up into a messy ball.

He was about to leave it be when suddenly his flatmate’s head emerged from the heap – red hair sticking out staticky in all directions, eyes puffy and still leaking. She declared her intent to use the shower in a hiccupy voice and stormed into the bathroom.

After she got out – fully clothed, to Obi’s relief – Shirayuki planted herself back onto the couch. She threw her flatmate a somewhat commanding glare while she patted the empty space beside her.

As much as a wannabe-dominant Shirayuki was an amusing view, Obi schooled his expression to neutral and refrain himself from teasing her. Clearly, she was very upset about something and Obi didn’t want to agitate her even further.

And so he took his cue and rolled onto the couch beside her. Wordlessly, Shirayuki started the laptop, the projector, spread the blanket over them, then leaned back and cuddle up to him when the movie started.

They lay like that for a while, as hundreds of questions raced in Obi’s mind.

What on earth happened? Did someone hurt you? Should I call Yuzuri? Or the police? Since when do you hog me like it’s absolutely nothing? Do you have any fucking idea what you’re doing to me? What the hell is going on? Do I even have any say in this?

What he finally settled with was a soft, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

His answer was a little pout on her lips and a small head shake. Then Shirayuki’s gaze shifted back to the screen. She inched closer to him, making herself comfortable and him even more uncomfortable. But Obi didn’t push. He hadn’t known his flatmate for a very long time, but he knew enough that she would talk when she felt like it. So he held his tongue and let her take what she needed.

Which brought him to now.

Closing his eyes, Obi immersed himself in the fragrance – a unique mixture between Shirayuki’s own scent and his shampoo. If more girls knew how sexy it was to smell masculine, all those girly toiletries brands out there might go broke in next to no time. Either that or Obi was just an exception to be so goddamned turned on by it.

Again, he cursed inwardly as he felt all his blood rushing south, where he noticed a small tent slowly building up. If he knew Shirayuki was going to throw herself to him tonight he would’ve chosen a tighter pair of boxers.

And maybe have a shower first.

Obi gave himself a mental slap on the back of his head. Surely this was not the time to feel aroused when the little miss was feeling miserable for whatever reason. He must get a grip on himself.

As if sensing that he was thinking about her, Shirayuki stirred, and one of her arms slid up to his chest, clutching lightly on his shirt. Obi’s breath hitched. If the other was awake Obi was sure she could feel his rapid heartbeat under her palm.

She was so close now she was practically using him as a body pillow. He was helplessly trapped with nowhere to move and no one to hear the silent, frustrated screams in his head. Obi lifted his left hand and pressed the bridge of his nose, sinking his head deeper into the pillow.

Why don’t you just fucking kill me already.

Nietzsche said ‘to live is to suffer’, and life with Shirayuki had given suffering a new meaning. Sure, she first appeared as a timid, cute little miss pharmacist who loves plants. While Obi liked plants, he was not sure how to deal with a green army of 50+ potted plants invading his flat. Especially that one big fellow sitting seemingly unobtrusive in the corner while slowly stretching its long branches until it now almost trespassed the screen boundary of the projector.

Only after a short while, his new flatmate emerged as an online-shopper addict for ‘useful’ household stuff. Some are truly useful, for example, that LED night light with motion detector for the corridor, albeit in the shape of a puppy head. Some, like the egg separator, gave Obi reasons to try out his gentle eye-rolling with her. “I’ll teach you how to separate eggs with just your hands”, he had told her as he hid the abomination in the back of the bottom kitchen drawer.

Before Shirayuki Obi had only ten utensils in his kitchen. Despite being half Japanese, he didn’t even own a rice cooker. You can guess three times who introduced one into the kitchen. It’s the same person who brought the juicer, the mixer, the blender and the waffle iron. Yes, her waffles are a delight on Sunday mornings but that’s not the point here.

To be fair, he was honestly thankful for her washing machine, even though it made their mini bathroom even more cramped. At least he didn’t have to go outside of the flat to do laundry anymore. But he still thought the dishwasher was an overkill. Contrary to other people, Obi liked doing dishes. It freed his thoughts, almost like a meditation. “You could still do the big pots by hand,” she tried to reason with him. Yea, well, when they already have a dishwasher, he’d rather have the machine do the big stuff, thank you very much.

Whenever Obi came home from his late shift he often found Shirayuki fast asleep at the dining table with work materials piled and scattered around her. He was quick to learn that in those cases there was nothing he could to do to wake her up. But of course, the physiotherapist inside him would never forgive himself for letting her just sleep there. Which left him no other choices than to carry her to her bed.

Speaking of suffering, Obi had always wondered why his roommate always behaved so carefree towards him. Granted, he never gave her any reasons to be cautious around him. He did like to tease her a lot, but never to the point that she was seriously uncomfortable with it. Nevertheless, did it never occur to her that he was a MAN, no matter how tame and harmless he seemed in front of her? Never before had Obi met a woman who was as completely unguarded as she was.

Anyway, the suffering has reached a new level today and Obi didn’t want to know what would come next.

Suddenly, a hum. Obi looked down and was met with two sleepy, half-open emerald eyes.

“Mmm...Obi?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“Have Amélie and Nino met yet?”

“Un.”

“Are they happy now?”

“Un. Like always.”

“Good.”

Then silence followed. Just when Obi thought the dream of Amélie and Nino had claimed Shirayuki back to sleep she murmured further.

“What time is it?”

“A little after midnight.” Obi allowed himself to gently place his chin on her head. “Shall we go to bed?”

A grunt. The tiny woman shook her head, nestled herself impossibly closer still to him and wrapped her arm completely around him.

“Mmm...You’re so warm.”

With that, her breath went back to its steady rhythm as she fell back asleep.

Sighing, Obi awkwardly reached to grab the remote control and turned off the projector. Then he pulled the blanket higher and tried to adjust himself to a more comfortable position for all the tangling limbs. He closed his eyes and gradually resigned to his fate.

Guess that means no shower for me tonight.

Obi took a deep breath in from his nose and released it slowly through his mouth.

In and out.

I am the master of my fucking cock.

——————–

Note:

The 10 kitchen utensils Obi owned before Shirayuki came to his life were...

a knife

a cutting board

a pot

a frying pan

a kettle (not an electric one)

a spatula

a ladle

a pair of cooking chopstick

a rice spoon

a grater

...just in case you were wondering >:3

#myfanfic #akagami no sirayukihime #obiyuki #flatmate au

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tsc-living · 4 years

Photo

Hey everyone, I know that this was a long time coming, and I cannot guarantee that I will be writing all that often, but I hope you all love this comeback fic!

Ty steadied his shaking fingers by pressing them flat against the top of his desk. He felt so ill, deep in his stomach, the aching, roiling grief he felt when he remembered Livvy. Not just the twin sister he had lost in Idris, but the ghost of her that he had lost earlier that week.

I love you, I love you, I love you…

She had disappeared in a breath of wind, fading into the night like the way she had come back. Gone from him forever, properly this time. As it had meant to be three years ago, when he had been as thin and ghostly as she had remained all this time.

He missed her. He missed her so much it felt like he would never recover. He wanted her back, Ty would give anything to have her back. But it was the loss of his sister, the eternal loss and acceptance of it, that made him miss Kit again. The same kind of feeling as when he had woken up and found him gone, when Magnus told him that Kit wasn’t coming back.

I love you Ty, I love you.

Why did everyone disappear after they told Ty that they loved him?

He stared out the window of his old room in the Los Angeles, watching the lonely and desolate looking moon as it shone over the ocean. There were no stars tonight, the moon was shining too bright, or maybe it was the light pollution from the city, he just knew the stars were gone.

Ty took a deep breath in and the pain he felt made an audible gasp escape him. How was he supposed to live in this world? Without her. Without him. Without them. He had always had one, or the other, and for a brief, perfect time, he had had them both.

He took another breath in and this one made him double over and rest his forehead against the bony tops of his own hands, still pressed to the top of his desk.

After everything, after that night at Lake Lyn, he didn’t know what to do as alone as he was. He was a Centurion, but he didn’t know what to do with it.

He felt, before he heard, the window of his room fly open and the cold air made him shiver. He really didn’t have the energy to close it, and the painful cold didn’t hurt as much as his stomach did. It made him feel a little bit better even, reminded him he could still feel more than the grief.

The wind was howling and whistling, coming directly off the ocean and smelling more salty than sage like. It reminded him of Lake Lyn, Kit collapsing to his knees in the sand, the wreckage of Ty’s life between them. He knew he had ruined it, but he hated that Kit had left anyway.

He pressed his head harder against his hands until they hurt, annoyed at himself for thinking things he hadn’t thought about for over a year. He knew he should forget about Kit, but he couldn’t. Not now. He had nothing else to hold on to. At least… at least Kit was alive. He had nothing else to believe in. He didn’t know how to believe in himself if he didn’t have at least one of them believing in him too.

He lifted his head, almost wearily, as he heard footsteps coming up the hallway towards his room. He couldn’t pinpoint the voices, he could just hear the murmur over the tread, at least three people. They weren’t hurried, there was no desperation, no danger, so he put his head back down and closed his eyes tightly, choosing to listen to the howling wind instead of the people in the hallway. He could sense a storm coming, the wind was too loud and determined to be a sea breeze, and even the light from the moon was getting weaker and weaker as clouds developed over the ocean.

I don’t think… It’s not right…

He could remember the sound of Kit’s voice over the brewing storm, his hesitation and despair. The things Ty hadn’t understood at the time. Kit had known it was a bad idea. Why hadn’t he listened to him?

“It’s okay, just knock first,” Julian’s voice, as authoritative and familiar as it was, drew Ty’s head up again. There was no more noise, but as Ty began to lower his head again, there was a soft knock.

Ty stared at his door, seeing three sets of shadows beneath the door. After a long moment of Ty staring, there was another, more determined knock and two sets of shadows departed.

“Who is it?” Ty asked, his voice hoarse with disuse from the week.

“Ty? It’s… uh…” there was an awkward pause, then a cough, but Ty was already rising shakily to his feet. “It’s me, it’s Kit.” Ty walked across his room, three long strides, and put his hand on the door handle, wondering why his heart was hammering as loudly as it was. He twisted, and pulled, letting the light flood despairingly into his room and he resisted the urge to slam the door shut on it.

“Kit?” Ty whispered, blinking desperately against the light to make sense of what it was hiding from him. The shape was broader, muscled like a Shadowhunter, and it was longer than he remembered. Slowly, his eyes grew accustomed to the light and blonde hair, although darker from the watery English sun, became apparent. His lips were full, his cheeks alarmingly red, his eyes still impressively and familiarly blue.

“Hey Ty, how are you doing?” Kit asked and Ty noticed the shift in his voice. It was deeper, it was softer than he had ever heard it, and it was so thick with emotion that Ty didn’t understand, nor did he know what to do with it.

“I- I don’t know…” Ty replied, and he felt his forehead crease like it always did when he didn’t understand something.

“Can I… can I come in?” Kit asked, swallowing visibly. Ty nodded once, more relieved that he could shut the light out again. Kit stepped inside and Ty shut the door firmly behind him, and when he turned to face Kit, the older, softer and yet firmer version of his former best friend was crossing the room to the window. “It is bloody freezing in here Ty,” he said, shutting the window firmly and locking it closed.

“What are you doing here?” Ty asked, ignoring the British slang in Kit’s vocabulary.

Kit looked, for lack of a better word, ashamed as he hung his head and sat heavily down on Ty’s bed. Ty waited, still next to his bedroom door.

“Magnus, uh he came to the house yesterday. Told me what happened with um, with Livvy…” hearing her name hurt Ty and he walked quickly to his desk and sat down in it before Kit could continue. “Yeah, so he told me what happened and I knew that… that you would be, well as you are,” Kit gestured to the black, solemn room and then at Ty himself as if to encompass the misery, “And I had to come. I had to see you. I actually, I couldn’t sleep last night and I couldn’t eat or think about anything else except being here for you. So I came.”

Ty didn’t say anything, he just looked at Kit who was sitting with so much poise and elegance that Ty barely recognised him, but there was still the small things that Ty had cared for so much about him. The stillness of his hands, the way his usually shifty eyes could be so carefully focused on him, the loose curls of his hair, the fact that his shirts always seemed a little too tight in the shoulders, yet too big at the collar.

“You left…” Ty said, although he felt silly for stating the obvious. Kit flinched like Ty had struck him.

“I have come back.”

“A long time later,” Ty added, but he didn’t feel so silly stating the obvious because Kit had done it too.

“I know, but I am here for you,” Kit said, moving to his feet and with carefully placed feet he crossed to where Ty sat and sank to his knees. “I am here now Ty, please let me be here.”

“You don’t need my permission,” Ty said and Kit lowered his gaze, but Ty saw a very small smile.

“Maybe I don’t need it, but I would like it,” Kit said and Ty raised his hand gently, putting it on the back of Kit’s head at the nape of his neck and curling the blonde strands into his fingers. It tickled, but it felt nice so Ty kept it there.

“You can stay,” Ty said, “I want you to stay,” he added. Kit let out a very long, slow breath and sank down from his knees to cross his legs in front of him. Ty let his hand fall back to his lap, but it wasn’t there for long because he needed it to wipe away a handful of tears he didn’t understand. Kit watched and after a moment he reached out carefully and took Ty’s hand, pulling gently until Ty slid from the chair. Kit caught him on the way down, bringing Ty to him. Ty found himself sitting on Kit’s lap and he buried his hands into the boy’s hair again and pressed his face into his neck as Kit brought his arms firmly around Ty’s body. Ty shuddered with more tears, the first proper cry since his sister’s ghost had dissolved into thin air.

“I’m here my love, it’s going to be okay,” Kit whispered. Ty swallowed some of his sobs so that he could talk, leaning so that their foreheads were touching, blonde mixing with black, blue meeting grey.

“I need you to stay,” Ty said.

“Why?” Kit asked, his breathing laboured as if he had been running for miles.

“Because I need something to believe in.”

“What do you believe in?”

“I believe in us,” Ty whispered and Kit’s face cracked into a smile, the perfect, familiar smile that made the pain behind Ty’s ribs disappear for a long, pretty moment. Ty pressed his fingers to Kit’s smile and his blue eyes searched Ty’s face. Ty wanted to taste his smile. It didn’t make sense, but he wanted some of it, he wanted Kit. So he leaned down and pressed his trembling lips to Kit’s grin. The other boy’s lips parted before they came together, pressing back into Ty nearly painfully. Exquisitely painful. Ty gripped onto the back of his hair tighter and Kit pulled him in closer.

They broke apart not much later, both with tear filled eyes and short, sharp breathing.

“I believe in us too,” Kit whispered and Ty felt his lips smile briefly. He turned to share his smile with the moon, and it shone brightly back. The storm had passed as quickly as it had brewed, and Ty could see a few lazy stars blinking down.

@shahana21 thank you for your continued support!

#kitty #kitty blackdale #ty blackthorn #kit herondale #tsc fanfic #tmi #tda #tid #fanfic #rae writes #who knew she could do that #please don't let me be irrelevant :(

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dcnatural · 4 years

Text

Filled To The Brim

Word Count: 1770

Pairing: Joker x Harley Quinn

Rating: Explicit

Synopsis: Joker brings Harley a gift.

The metal table was cold enough to make Harley shiver. Her body bended over the edge, ass sticking up to the air, chest flat against the surface and head held in place by firm grip on her hair. Her long painted nails scratched the metal, looking for something to hold onto, but the tabletop was far too smooth and so every time the Joker thrusted into her, her body slid forward, and was pulled back as he retreated, only to thrust seconds later with as much strength as the time before. The friction of her skin against the metal was making her breasts itchy, and she was pretty sure she would have rashes when this was over. Not that she would complain about it; she never complained about her pudding.

Behind her, the Joker grunted, his cock twitching inside her tight ass. Letting go of her pale blond locks, he placed both hands on Harley’s hips, nails digging into her creamy white skin, and began to rock into her even faster, jamming into her balls deep.

“Puddin’!”, she shrieked, surprised at the sudden change of pace.

“Hush, Harley. Can’t see I’m too busy to talk right now?”

She bit her lip, suppressing a cry. “But -- but you are going to fast!”

As fast as a lighting, a fist hit the table just near her head with a loud thud. “Shut up!”

She nodded, teeth cutting through the fragile skin of her lips hard enough to draw blood. She told herself to enjoy it, that his happiness was her happiness. It’s just his way of showing he loves and wants me. She smiled slightly at her thought, yes, the Joker loved her. And she loved him, loved him enough to do anything. And with that in mind, her moans soon joined his, echoing through the walls of the abandoned warehouse. A wide grin formed on his face, those were the sounds he wanted her to make. Not her annoying whimpers or cries, but those sweets little moans filled with pleasure.

And then, with a final thrust, it was over: his thick cum shooting into her, flooding her ass. Without pulling out, he collapsed on top of her, panting as his breath returned to normal, his heavy frame weighing her down. His sweaty hands slid between her body and the table, cupping her boobs as he placed kisses on her neck.

“Oh, Harley, I have a surprise for you.”

Her eyes went wide in excitement. “I looove surprises!”, she said cheerfully, and would have clapped her hands, had she been able to do so.

His long fingers twisted her nipples, causing her to giggle. “I know you do”, he whispered seductively, mouth moving to lick the patch of skin underneath her ear. “And I’m sure you will fucking love this one. But for it to work, I’ll need to you to stay very still. Can you do that for me?”

She nodded. “Yes, Mistah J. Anything for you.”

“Good girl”, he purred before standing up and removing his softening cock from inside her. She heard his footsteps, as he crossed the warehouse back to where they had laid their backpacks and weapons. He searched for something, throwing out everything that was in his way, scattering guns and tricks all over the floor.

“Here it is”, he announced, jogging back to where his lover was, carrying with him a small black box.

Even though Harley had been holding up her ass, as soon as he had pulled out, the creamy white cum started oozing out of her hole. “Tsk tsk”, he reprimanded, running a slender finger along the pearly trail that it left behind, collecting the viscous substance and putting it back into her asshole.

He walked around the table and place the box right in front of her. “Wanna make a guess on what’s inside?”

She nodded happily. “Umm.. is it a jewel? You know I have been dying for a new necklace!”

“Well,”, he pondered, “you could call it a jewel if you wanted to. But it’s not for your pretty neck”, he laughed in his classic manic way, “No, no, for that we will have to find something another day. Maybe pearls?”

“Oh, I would love a pearly necklace. But what’s in the box then?”

His eyes sparked with a glint of mishchiviouness as he opened the lid, revealing a silvery object. It had a thin tip and it widden towards the middle, followed by a notch and a large flared base shaped like a heart and decorated with a huge red crystal. A butt plug, she immediately recognized. “So, do you like it?”

Harley’s jaw opened, but no words came out. “It’s huge!”, she exclaimed, but as soon as she noticed that a small frown was forming on the Joker’s face, she shook her head and smiled. “I mean, it’s perfect!”

He clapped. “Great, great, great. Now you can keep me inside you all the times.”

“You mean…?”

“Oh, silly girl, this plug isn’t only decorative. I bought it so you could have my cum in your ass, just how I know you like”, he paused for a heartbeat, pretending to ponder about the subject, then he raised an eyebrow. “I mean, you like it, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course I love it, Mistah J. I love everything you give me”, the sugary words fell out of her mouth automatically, she didn’t even need to think about it, pleasing him had become a second nature for her.

“HA! Just like I thought!”, he exclaimed, picking up the plug from its box, jumping through the table and positioning himself behind Harley. “Try not to move, darling”, he warned and then, without further notice, he began to insert the new toy inside her ass. She clenched at the coldness of the plug, and he had to coax her into relaxing to be able to push the rest of the device into her. Finally, the plug was fully inside her. “You may rise, dear.”

She shifted as she got up, still adjusting to the new feeling. “It feels funny”, she said giggling. He smiled softly and pulled her close, holding her against his unclothed chest.

“I’m glad you are enjoying it.”

She inhaled deeply, taking in the strong smell of his perfume and melted into his embrace. She loved when he held her in his arms, and always felt safe and protected. Nothing bad could happen as long as she was with her puddin’. He leaned down, kissing her roughly, an act the she replied eagerly, parting her lips for him. When he pulled away, her lips were swollen and reddish, but she could have gone like that forever.

“I love you, darling. You know that, don’t you?”, he asked, still so close to her that she could feel his hot breath on her face.

“I know, puddin’. I love you too. I love you more than anything in this world.”

He tucked a loose hair lock back behind her ear. “Then will you bring something for me?”

“Oh, puddin’, of course! Just name it and I’ll make sure you get it.”

He grinned and let go of her. “ Per- fect”, he cheered. From the place where they had carelessly thrown it before, he picked her red and black jumpsuit and handed it to her. “Get dressed and go to the store, I have a insane need for some grape juice.”

She cocked her head. “But what about the plug?”

He dismissed her worries with a wave of his hand. “Don’t you worry about that, no one will notice. Now, get moving, we don’t have time to waste.”

“Sure thang, Mistah J”, she said with a coy smile as she began to put on the suit. When she was dressed, she turned her upper body to check whether the plug was showing. “Puddin’, I dunno, but the suit is very thigh and the lump seems quite noticeable...” But he hadn’t stuck around to hear her worries, having already headed towards the bags and picked up his phone. She sighed knowing that he was far too immersed in the comedy show he was watching, she couldn’t distract him with her problems.

No one will care, she told herself as she left their hiding spot and walked to the closest convenience store. Just walking proved to be a difficult task, as with each movement she made, she could constantly feel the plug inside her. Not only that, but she could also feel the cum, which had now gone cold. When the store entered her line of sight, she unholstered her pop gun. The parking lot was empty, and through the windows, Harley could see that the cashier was the only employee working at the moment. Good for me! , she thought, running towards the door, prepared to kick it open.

A dry cry escaped her throat as she lost her balance and fell to her butt, making the plug seemingly reach even further. “Damned automatic doors!”, she shouted as she got up, groaning with the discomfort that the plug caused.

Behind the counter, the scared clerk had retreated to the wall, pressing so hard against it as if he thought that he could perhaps pass through it and hide.

“You!”, Harley pointed the gun at the employee. “Tell me where is the grape juice!”

He shook with fear, the words stumbling on top of each other. “In-- in the frid-- fridge. The back-kk. Plea--se don’t-tt hurt me-e.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, you asshole!”, she yelled, her back already turned to him. She couldn’t care less about him, the only thing in her mind was the juice. Her eyes scanned the shelves, looking for the right bottle. “AHA! Here it is!”

Making a precarious pile with the bottles, she carried it to the counter. “See, I’ll be needing a car. Do you have the keys to that junk parked outside?”

With trembling hands, the cashier reached into his pockets and pulled out the car keys, dropping them into Harley’s waiting hand. She smiled cheekly. “Thanks, you are honey! And could you pack those?”, she gestured to the bottles and the clerk quickly placed then in a large plastic bag. She took it and off she went, juice in one hand, keys on the other.

Driving back to the warehouse was easier than walking. Despite the loud noise the car made, and of the smoke coming out of its back.

“I’m back!”, she announced happily as she pushed open the door.

The Joker barely raised his eyes from his phone. “Good, I was getting thirsty.”

#joker #harley quinn #joker/harley #jarley #one shot #smut #joker x harley quinn #dc

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dragonrajafanfiction · 4 years

Text

Dragon Dancer IV: Fengchu

Every second that passed, I could hear less and less from Lu Mingfei’s mind through our soul bond. Part of me, the dragon part, was elated, the other human part?

Horrified.

Johann Chu had broken into a toy store on the street and dragged us, myself and Ru’Yi in her child carrier, inside to safety. We ducked under the security rail between the check out counters and hid between the dark aisles. On both sides, we were surrounded by stuffed animals, most of them Disney characters.

Chu Zihang was gasping across the aisle from me, the whites of his eyes moist and reflective in the dim light.

My Johann may have pulled Ru’Yi and me inside, but then he would have run out to join Nono and Crow in stopping Lu Mingfei’s rampage.

This Johann gathered his knees to his chest and put his head down.

I unstrapped Ru’Yi from her carrier. She clung to me, whimpering. I shushed her and moved to sit next to Johann.

I was being too hard on him.

I had only been sixteen when I was thrust into the world of dragons. I too experienced the shock of someone turning into a monster.

I had been unable to speak afterwards for an entire day.

Then after that, I had been sent off to Japan with little preparation for what horrors I would see there.

The only thing that kept me going was the comforting presence of Johann Chu. At that moment, I had wanted the world to end. He gave me a reason to wish to live for at least a few more days.

Those days turned to years of my life.

Occasionally, during the time we were dating, I wondered what he saw in me. There were older, smarter people on campus who could match him and didn’t need tutoring. They could fight with him and didn’t need training.

Susie sprang to mind. Why me and not Susie? I kept wondering this.

The answer was now clear to me.

I had reminded Johann of himself.

Didn’t I hide behind a tree in Japan? Didn’t I huddle with my knees to my chest on the Trieste?

Johann lifted his head and looked at me. He was so pale he looked gray. I gave him a little smile. “You’ll be okay.” I told him.

Incredulousness rippled across his face. He gave a little shake of his head.

“I know it’s hard to believe.” I said in a low tone. “I was just like you...”

The quiet was shattered by a howling animal roar!

We both gasped and looked toward the glass display windows. Debris was flying in the road, pieces of paper and leaves, then larger sticks and garbage cans. A telephone pole across the road snapped like twig. Parked cars began lifting their wheels off the ground.

Sheets of rain followed. Lighting slithered in a blinding arc followed by an sharp crack of thunder.

I trembled. Then looked up. A helicopter was flying low over head.

“The Executive department!”

“What’s... what’s happening?” Johann whispered to me, looking at me with frightened desperate eyes.

“Lu Mingfei scares the Academy he came from. They kept secrets from him, of his real identity. He’s searching for who he is... what he is! But the Academy believes he is dangerous!”

“Is brother... a monster?” Johann asked.

I opened my mouth and closed it. “Didn’t he save you? Isn’t he kind to you?”

Crow yelled from further down the street. “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!”

A bright flash and a loud boom shook the entire building!

“Brother!” Johann leaped up.

“No!” I grabbed his hand. “No! Don’t run out there! Don’t run out!”

He tried to pull away from me but, then, Crow’s voice was drowned out by a continuous thunder. Like the most extreme fireworks display, the artillery fire lit up the night, and shook the very air, vibrating through our bones. Soon, smoke rolled and blocked our view.

Johann stood pale, eyes wide. “Brother?”

Another enormous explosion shook the ground so hard that the aisles tilted and fell on us. Johann, thinking quickly, covered us just before the wire racks landed on me.

Another explosion and another, each one preceded by a sharp whistling hiss.

The windows shattered. The scent of chemicals filled our noses as the air from outside rushed in. I recognized the smell as chemicals toxic to dragons.

Johann began to sob brokenly. His tears running from his face into my hair as the bombardment continued. “They’re killing him!”

“Hey... Hey!” I turned to him. “Listen to me... Listen! You have to stay calm.”

I coughed as the chemicals tickled my throat.

He looked at me, “They’re killing him,” he sobbed.

“He’s not dead yet. If he was, I would know it.”

I put as much certainty as I could in my voice and looked at him directly as though daring him to contradict.

It worked. He stopped crying.

“Just take a deep slow breath... hold it ... let it out... nice slow.”

I leaned my forehead against his willing myself to ignore the fact that they were still shooting outside, ignoring Ru’Yi’s squalling.

I focused instead on my breathing, slow in... hold it... slow out... hold it.

I looked into Johann’s eyes. “Better?”

He didn’t say anything but I turned my attention away to attend to my distraught baby. “We have to stay in here for a while. They’ll come down and try to confirm if Mingfei is dead.”

“Is he...”

“No.” I bounced Ru’Yi to calm her, looking outside.

After that earth-rocking volley, there was no sound other than the rotors of the helicopter. A breeze was blowing the shop open sign on an door that twisted on a single hinge. It was also moving the hot dust out of the area and increasing visibility

A dark shape was moving out there, sweeping the bright red line of a laser sight through the smoky air. It paused. “West side safe.”

The dark shape I recognized as Nono darted out from behind an overturned car. A sharp thud and the department officer was laid flat.

I smiled a little as the silhouette of Nono ran off, likely to deal with the other officers.

“I thought... of a name for you... I don’t know if its any good.” Johann said.

I immediately perked up. “What is it?”

He shifted pushing against the heavy shelf. “What do you think of Fengchu?”

“It sounds like a sneeze. What does it mean?”

“Young phoenix. Basically... a talented young person.”

I looked at him with wide eyes and a stunned expression. Wasn’t that what Meixiu meant?

I grinned. “I’ll take it!”

“R...really?”

“Yes. My name is Fengchu now!” I whispered. I looked back outside. “Mingfei is still alive but...”

Nono suddenly appeared in front of the store. One side of her face was red and swollen and her eyes were fierce. “Guys! Let’s go!”

Johann pushed against the shelf to let Ru’Yi and I crawl out. He followed, throughtfully dragging the child carrier with him.

We climbed through the debris to get back onto a street that was completely ploughed under by the artillery fire. Crow, a bloodied and naked Mingfei over his shoulder, hurried into another alley.

As a gangster, he likely knew every short cut and escape in this city and we followed without question, rushing away from the approaching sirens.

#Johann Chu #Chu Zihang #Lu Mingfei #Mingfei Lu #Dragon Raja #Writing #Fanfiction

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kenobion · 4 years

Text

Here’s a thing I wrote, it’s a kind of short fix-it fic for Revenge of the Sith, I dunno if I’ll do anymore but if you enjoy it and would like more let me know.

Anakin’s head swam. From a distance he heard Mace Windu calling out his name, begging for help, still trusting in him . . . the chosen one.

Sightlessly he gazed down at his hands, his eyes observing their appearance, but his attention turned inwards. Everything was happening so much, so fast. Somewhere deep within him a voice - as of a child - cried out in overwhelming exhaustion, pleading for the ordeal to be over. But the dragon that twisted around his guts rose up before it, claws crushing its cries and turning to him, whispering promises.

Promises that he could be stronger, that the anxieties that plagued his waking and resting moments alike could be smoothed away, that through that power his doubts would be erased. No doubt. No uncertainty. His vision of Padme’s death would never become realized. He had lost his mother - not again. Never again. He would never have to lose anyone.

Anakin set his mouth in a grim line and stepped forward, his movements feeling divorced from himself, as if he were wading in mud. Mace’s face grew larger as he approached, but so did the clarity of the lines in the concerted expression he wore. Mace’s gaze darted from Anakin to Palpatine and back again.

Something was happening, Palpatine was yelling orders to him, Mace was shouting back, the air was filled with an acrid smell - was that from the lightsabers or something else - but Anakin observed it all as through water. He heard a voice that sounded like his - he was speaking? - and then his hand was on Mace’s arm, restraining him, holding his lightsaber at bay.

The Chancellor cackled and a cold, distant undertone in the sound brought Anakin back to enough awareness of himself to hear his most recent sentence as he spoke it.

“I need him to save Padme!”

Mace looked at him askance, bringing voice to the question that was reverberating around his mind. “Why?”

Anakin’s face contorted, the floodgates to his anxieties surrounding Padme’s life and the life of their child hitting him like a tidal wave, nearly knocking him off his feet. Reflexively he released Mace’s arm and shifted his gaze past the Korun Master’s face, wishing he could vanish into the tumultuous Coruscanti night.

It was now or never.

“I need his power,” Anakin stated thickly, his heart pounding in his chest. “To save her. She’s going to die!” He shook on his feet, frozen yet unable to stop his unsettled back and forth movement. His boots felt like lead. His mind was on fire. His every nerve was frayed. “My vision. She’s going to die.” The sentence came out expressionless. Flat.

Inside he felt empty and drained, as if the tangled spring that had been coiled up within him had suddenly broken with this admission and all of its energy had been dispersed. He was hollow, empty, exhausted.

Mace remained silent, but in the silence he redirected his focus from Palpatine’s shatterpoint to Anakin’s. The threads that bound the Chancellor to him were there, but Anakin’s were bound more strongly to another. Realization hit Mace like a blast of arctic air and he leveled his lightsaber at Palpatine once more, summoning the very last reserves of his strength.

“He’s using you!” He declared, his tone of voice defying Anakin to keep looking at the cityscape in favor of his face. “He needs you! But you do not need him! Anakin, you know visions are unpredictable, what you saw is not destined to occur. It’s just one possibility!”

Something damp was on Anakin’s cheeks. Were those tears? He felt so numb. “But I have to save her.” His words were remote, far away. But they were his.

Mace shook with effort as his lightsaber absorbed another blast of lightning issued from the Chancellor’s hands, which was accompanied by another gravelly issuance of verbal slime, intended to ensnare Anakin further in his own fears. Those fears belonging to Anakin were the true source of the turbulence in the force, he now realized, much more so than Palpatine’s own disruptive influence. The darkness that agitated here came from Anakin’s own mind.

“There is more than one way forward Anakin, you are the chosen one, listen to me! He is using your fear of losing Padme to twist you! To turn your thoughts against you!” The young man seemed even more remote now than before, but something in Mace’s tone seemed to shake him momentarily back to awareness. “The man you trusted when you were young, when you first met him as a senator, he is no more! Look at him! Look at what he has become! Do you see him here now??”

Anakin turned his head, slowly, inexorably, towards his right. Collapsed at the base of the window was something or rather someone, or what had been someone . . . The clothes were those of the Chancellor who he knew, but the feral yellow eyes within - and the grotesque pale skin on - the twisted, warped excuse for a face were something that was neither man or animal. It was unnatural.

Gone was the face of the man who had mentored him, gone was the seemingly kind glance, the almost fatherly demeanor, gone was the leader who had always been there to comfort and guide him. The voice of the child within him cried out. But this time it was not in exhaustion, but in revulsion.

On impulse Anakin stepped backward, shaking his head. What was happening?

Mace’s voice broke the eerie silence. “He is no longer the man you once knew! He is the Sith Lord!”

Vaguely Anakin’s mind flew back to the moment in the Senate, the story Palpatine had told him, his seeming promise . . . but . . .

He looked up at Mace, then back to the Chancellor, who started crying out, as if he were being falsely persecuted.

Mace persisted, seeking to divert Anakin’s attention from the wheedling pleas. “Anakin, I need your help now. The Republic needs it. Padme needs it. Not from him, not through some twisted dark side power, but now, from you. Help her here and now as you would have done for your mother! You can change this!”

This was a risky move, appealing to the very attachments which the Jedi Order had so discouraged for so long, which had so often been the source of Anakin’s struggles. The vengeance he had felt towards his mother’s captors was dangerous, as was invoking all the accompanying emotions in this moment, but Mace had no recourse left. He had to pit Anakin’s love against his loyalties and hope the first was stronger. He would soon know. Now the result of that battle was in Anakin’s hands alone.

It seemed as if a fist had closed around Anakin’s heart, and something was attempting to squeeze it til it burst. His breath was ragged, he was emotionally drained, and even the cool night air high above the city provided no relief. He wished to rest, to be left alone, to escape from the aching pains of the world. The dark shadow on his right beckoned to him, murmuring promises it knew he wished to hear. The amethyst glow on the left prompted him with memories, with duty, with a call to . . . tenderness?

For a moment it seemed as if he honed in on Padme’s presence, her gentle breathing, the lightness of fabric on her skin, the gentle seclusion of her resting place. Her presence brought joy to his life, and rest, and relief. She was where he felt safe.

A flash of blue ignited the lightsaber in his hand as he turned, gazing at the disfigured shape of the man he had known. Or thought he had know. “I trusted you,” Anakin declared, his face wrestling with balancing emotions which teetered between the duel rage and sadness of betrayal. “I trusted you. And you, you would use the one person who matters to me,” Anakin clasped his hand into a fist and lifted it near his face, then let it go, as if the motion signaled some words he could not express out loud.

“Were you glad when I lost my mother?” He took a step towards the Chancellor, his voice rising in pitch. “Were you glad when she died? When I was tortured by that regret and rage because you thought you could use it against me now, when I most needed you, as a mentor, as a friend!”

The last sentence didn’t even end as a question. He already knew the answer in his bones. It was as if the chill of the night had taken up lodging within the very fiber of his being.

Mace gave Anakin a glance as if to say ‘do something and make it quick’. He didn’t want Palpatine to have a chance to speak again, and twist Anakin’s thoughts around him any more than they already were. “We must end this!” He declared decisively, his voice determined but anguished. He had to keep pushing through, they both did. “We cannot keep him alive!”

The serpentine shadow whispered again that it was needed, that it was the answer, that it could supply great power, that it alone could save Pad-

Suddenly the voice was silenced by a bolt of blue. The thrown lightsaber returned to Anakin’s hand with a gentle movement of air and a soft shwup as its blade was sheathed.

Mace remained frozen in surprise at the moment - despite the fact that it was what he had been waiting for - and watched in horrified fascination as the disembodied head of the Chancellor bounced off the edge of the broken window and down amidst the many layers of the city planet. He still stood with his own lightsaber extended, but after a moment’s pause he turned off the blade and returned the hilt to his side.

Anakin stood silently in the same place he had thrown his lightsaber from, gazing down with an unreadable expression at the limp, headless body of Palpatine. For a moment neither Jedi spoke.

“I thought I knew him.”

Mace nodded silently as he absorbed Anakin’s words, and he stepped away from the window, suddenly mindful of the fall. “We all thought we did.” He paused at the young man’s side.

“I mean,” Anakin turned to look at Mace, “I thought I really knew him.” The silence that followed his words contained so many others which remained unspoken. The night felt filled with the weight of so many unspoken sentences, so many confusions and regrets and questions.

Mace placed a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, briefly. It was not a familiar gesture between the two, but both let it linger for a moment.

The Korun Master finally spoke. “I think we should go.”

Anakin looked bemused, his mind so shot through that he could not make the jump to the meaning of Mace’s words. “Where to?”

Mace rubbed his chin with one hand. “I mean to convene the Council. We did just eliminate a Sith Lord. You, on the other hand . . . Well, let’s just say you could use some rest.”

He escorted Anakin out of the room, glad to get him away from the scene, and called for a speeder on his com link.

Anakin let himself be lead along, as he hardly possessed the energy to resist, but his tired thoughts still rested on Padme. He needed to see her. To be sure she was there. To make she she was all right.

#star wars #fan fic #I dunno I don't usually write stuff

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luwianskies · 4 years

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The Party

Excerpt from The Amber Season for a special occasion!

Today is Quinn’s birthday, and they just turning 10 years old. The birthday party the family had set up for them was the most beautiful thing they had ever seen: everything was covered in fall-colored leaves, from the tables to the ceiling lights, from the carpets to the shelves, and even the people there were dressed in autumn splendor. The foyer room was bathed in light of every shade of amber from innumerable candles and hearth fire, giving everything and everyone a warmth rarely seen any other time.

Quinn’s eyes fell in love with the room as they took it all in. The way the light of the candles flickered gold everywhere, the way the hearth cast dark shadows of everyone, the glittering of glasses, brass candelabras and copper dishes, the occasional purple clothes and leaves and wrapped gifts…

The chatter from the family seemed to flicker like the candles, soft and sometimes clinking with laughter. Everything in the room was suffused with the warm smell from the cake at the center of the table: a lemon and poppy seed monstrosity topped with a cinnamon butter icing and glazed with the traditional family-made golden maple syrup, unique in the world.

Quinn’s eyes searched the room for a moment, looking for their favorite cousin Annabelle. Today may be Quinn’s birthday, but in a few hours it would be Annabelle’s. They had both always reveled in their closeness, in person and in time, because it meant that the family often celebrated them together in an all-night party just like this one, and they were allowed to stay up as late as they wanted.

And there she was, close to the hearth and its light, and as was her usual, reading a book. When she looked up to see Quinn, she smiled and abandoned her reading. She ran over and grabbed their hand eagerly, with a look on her face that Quinn knew was one of somebody keeping a secret. She was up to something, and was going to tell them all about it.

It was magical, and Quinn wished they could immortalize this moment. Wished they could bottle it and carry it around with them forever, to be looked at in hard and sad times and remember a happier one…

Three strong knocks on the common room doors resounded suddenly, and everyone inside froze.

Quinn did not understand why, but they did understand the tension that filled the room. It was the kind of tension that adults exuded when there was something upsetting to them near, but that they did not want to face. Quinn and Annabelle tightened their grips on each other’s hands.

Another three knocks, stronger this time.

Nobody moved, but whispers were popping up everywhere around them. Some sounded annoyed, some alarmed. But most sounded disbelieving. Quinn and Annabelle sneaked between the family around them, looking for a good angle to spy on the doors.

The last three knocks sounded pounding, resonating in wood and stone.

Everyone was moving now, some out of the way of the doors, others to them. Most just paced on the spot, nervous but unsure what to do. Quinn and Annabelle took advantage of the confusion to change spots again, dodging the quick walks of the adults as they put themselves in place for a full view of the doors.

And when they opened with a deep and loud crack to let in a cool gust, the figure that came in was the most beautiful Quinn had ever seen.

The wide shoulders were draped in a vest of felt leaves, each one colored like its own little sunset. The warm browns of the rest of the clothes brightened them like flames, and the copper hair that fell over the leaves framed a golden face with eyes shadowed in bronze.

The sound of the flat leather boots on the stone floor seemed to silence the room again as this glorious woman walked in further. It soon became obvious that she was also tall, and her every step was one of shameless confidence.

Quinn recognized the flamboyance of the leaves of the vest: only their family’s sunset maples made such a riot of color on each leaf. Was this a relative? They felt as if they should recognize her, but couldn’t. If only they could get a better look at her face…

Her stride took her straight to Quinn’s grandparents, whose faces said they knew who this was, but could not believe she was there. Whispers among the family had started up again, but none were clear enough for Quinn to make out save for a small “Is that really-?”, “It must be, how else could-”.

She stopped in front of them, close to where Quinn and Annabelle had hid themselves off to the side of the hearth. The rich and smoky voice of the woman only added to her appeal when she spoke:

“Good evening everyone.” she said lowly, “And what a lovely evening it is.”

Their grandmother’s disbelief seemed to fade a little, but before she could speak their grandfather cut in.

“Get out. You made your choice. This night is for the girls.”

Quinn bristled at being called a girl again, but as always, did not know why.

“Then it’s mine too, isn’t it?” she replied playfully, “Or have you changed your mind about me yet again?”

His face burned red, but she had moved on before he could speak again.

“And where are the young ones whose day has come again this year?” she said assertively as she scanned the room, “I have gifts to give and goodwill to pass along…”

Quinn unthinkingly moved away from their hiding spot then, Annabelle in tow. The woman’s eyes set on them both instantly, and her smile was warm, playful…and a little sad. Quinn didn’t know what could produce such a combination of emotions on a face, but they felt compelled to approach her, to want to comfort her. When all three of them stood together in front of the hearth fire she knelt to bring herself to their eye-level, and Quinn noticed her eyes were the same warm brown as her clothes. Everything about her was warm.

Behind her, their grandfather’s weak protests were shushed by their grandmother. He tried to argue with her quietly, hissing throughout.

None of it mattered to the three of them together. She had eyes and ears only for Quinn and Annabelle, and them for her. Then, seemingly out of thin air, she held before her two packages, one for each of them.

“Happy birthday to you both. I won’t be staying, so hold on to these. They are for you, and only you.”

The gifts, they noticed as they picked them up from her hands, were wrapped in dried leaves instead of paper and held together by nothing but hemp cord. Annabelle picked up hers first, and thanked her cheerfully. She did not, however, open it just yet. It was technically not her birthday yet, and she had always been the patient one between the two of them.

“They will protect you, as long as you wear them.” The beautiful woman said as she put her hand gently over Annabelle’s, “Just remember that they will do so best when you let your fear fall away.”

Even Annabelle knew what she said was important, even if she didn’t know how yet. She nodded her understanding while Quinn wondered at the idea of Annabelle being afraid. No one was as fearless as their favorite cousin. It’s why they got along so well, with Quinn boldly throwing themselves at everything right along with her.

Quinn’s pondering of this idea was cut short by the woman’s eyes shifting to Quinn’s own, and they were again hit with the vague feeling of knowing that face, but still not being able to place her in their mind.

She smiled wider then, seemingly knowing what they were thinking. The sadness in her eyes came forward in her expression as she told them softly: “I know what you see, Quinn.”

“But”, they said as softly, “I don’t.”

If they could just stare at that face long enough they would figure it out, they were sure of it. If they could just…

“You will.” she promised, “Until then, take this, and show the world everything you can see. Because someday, the world will see you. And when you are ready, they will see you as I do.”

Her hand was warm on Quinn’s as she said this, but the entirety of their focus was now on her eyes. They made Quinn feel like they’d been spotted, caught red-handed, pointed out from the background. Felt seen.

“I see you Quinn. I see you under the layers of girl that everyone else puts on you. Under all the woman they will expect you to be, I see you.”

For an infinite moment, there was not enough air. She could see it, she could see it, and she knew…

And in that warm hand and sad smile was a softness, an understanding that Quinn had longed for but had never found, not even from Annabelle.

Their vision suddenly started to blur as they stared back into her eyes. Why was their vision blurry?

There were tears in their eyes. Embarrassed, Quinn lifted a hand to wipe them away—

“What, why is she crying?” Quinn heard their grandfather howl, “What did you do?! How dare you!”

They jumped at the sound of his voice, booming and angry. It sent the room into a frenzy of voices from the rest of the family, a cacophonous confusion.

Despite this, and before Quinn could even think to say anything in protest, the beautiful woman rose to her full height, and turned to their grandfather.

His gaze had always been a frightful thing to Quinn, but she stood tall and still against even his loudest shouts.

“Show them what you see, Quinn,” she said to them over her shoulder, “Show them all.”

“ENOUGH!” he shouted “You’ll—“

The hearth fire suddenly blazed, momentarily lighting the room bright as day. The family yelled their surprised alarm and in the flames a second later there was…

There was…a figure. There was a person in the fire, a person with clothes that seemed made of flames, the tallest person Quinn had ever seen. The shape of them beyond that was hazy, and Quinn could barely make out that they were still standing on the stone of the hearth itself, and that in one hand they carried what looked like a long, long fiery spear. Their other hand was open and outstretched in front of them, waiting patiently.

In the chaos of light and noise the woman stood still, unmoved by the sudden roar of fire behind her. But their grandfather was not, and he stared fearfully at the tall figure, while their grandmother looked surprised, but only uncertain.

And then the woman turned to the figure without a hint of fear, put her hand in theirs, and vanished with them into the flames.

And on her face as she did, was the happiest smile Quinn has ever seen.

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Tah-dah! This excerpt is dedicated to @theticklishpear for their birthday! Thank you for all your help and support! I wish you the happiest birthday and a chance to rest and relax amidst the chaos of the world today. <3

(This thing is terrible and soooooo rough but I’ve been editing it TO HELL for a while. Can’t bake a cake if you won’t stop mixing it!)

#the amber season #excerpt #birthday gift

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nelvana · 5 years

Text

In which the cave of the judge is explored

First [ARC 1]: In which the human is transformed First [ARC 2]: In which a present is prepared Next: In which the judge is spoken to Previous: In which there is an entry test

Warning! This chapter has descriptions of blood! Reader discretion is advised.

“I still don’t understand what made him think to give this to me; he said I failed the battle,” Gengar said for what felt like the hundredth time since they had left Mienshao’s dojo.

“He was testing for you something else,” Nelvana sighed, long tired of hearing those doubts. “Maybe even the same thing Ninetales said you didn’t have. Consider this a good thing. We have the crest and even some directions now, that’s good.”

Gengar huffed, flipping over the crest in his hands. The other side, as they had discovered, was darker in color than the top, and lacked the three red gems that decorated it. He kept flipping it over and studying the object restlessly. It had been placed in the bag as they had left the building and headed off again, but he had since then taken it back out to continuously look over.

“It’ll go fine,” Nelvana assured him, “oh, this must be the place…”

Since leaving Mienshao’s dojo, they had wandered through fields dotted with trees every other few meters before the forestry grew more crowded around them. Now they had managed to find there way over to what at a glance could be passed off as just a boulder covered in moss with some more trees growing nearby. But they could tell this was what they had been looking for. One side of this “boulder” was clear of moss and flat just like a wall, with a single indent shaped like the crest Gengar was still holding.

After a moment to look this over, Nelvana nodded Gengar towards it. He paused, and then stepped forward and placed the Fallen Angel Crest in the indent in the wall. With a loud rumble, the wall slowly slid away to the side, disappearing behind the other rock and moss around it.

Now that nothing was in the way, they could see that the inside of this dungeon was dark aside from some bioluminescent mushrooms growing from inside. It resembled as if it had once been perhaps a stone building, but had since decayed to ruins and overgrowth. What had been fine limestone walls were now dull and cracked, with roots crawling out between them. The cobblestone flooring suffered a similar fate, with grass attempting to grow through without that much success. Between the glow of the mushrooms and a thick, low hanging fog, everything was bathed in an odd purple.

“Well, here we go,” Nelvana murmured, “Murky Cave, here we come.” She took the first steps into the dungeon, waving for Gengar to follow. “Stay close to me for this one, alright?”

Gengar nodded, not that Nelvana was looking behind her to see him, “got it,” he replied, following right behind her.

Once they had gotten a few feet into the dungeon, they could hear the wall begin to groan and slowly slide back to where it had been before. The pair spun around at the sound, and Nelvana hurried back over to it. She swiftly reached around the wall and tugged the crest back out, pulling her arm back inside before the wall completely closed.

“Looks like we’re really in this now,” Gengar commented, blinking to adjust to the lighting.

“Yeah, but if all goes well, we’ll be using the badge to get out of here,” Nelvana responded, walking back over to him. “Plus, I got the crest back too, if we ever need to come back here for… whatever reason.”

“Oh! Good thinking,” Gengar exclaimed, “can I hold it in the bag for now?”

Nelvana nodded, handing the Fallen Angel Crest back to Gengar, “sure, just make sure not to lose it.”

“I’m not going to lose it, come on, have a bit more faith in me than that,” Gengar hissed, accepting the crest back and carefully placing it back in his large bag. “Alright, whatever, let’s get going.”

Nodding again, Nelvana proceeded into the depths of the ruinous caverns. Not far around the first turn, they discovered that there were some pools of water in some spots, glowing with the same bioluminescent energy as the mushrooms still growing around them. Neither of them recognised what this liquid could be or what had affected it to make it shine in this way, but they both silently agreed to do their best not to touch it.

The next corner ended any sort of peace that was being held, as a roserade leapt out in front of them. The sweet scent from the grass-poison pokemon cut through their senses, causing Gengar to relax. Nelvana shook her head, trying to clear her mind, before lunging forward and headbutted the dungeon spawn, who hissed in response.

Not quite defeated and still raring to battle, the roserade created thorny whips from their arms, snapping them at the cubone. Nelvana used her club to block, not willing to risk the poison that this attack was likely laced with. She headbutted the roserade again, managing to finish them off.

Gengar blinked, the aroma fading from around them with the dungeon spawn now gone. Nelvana glanced back to him, checking to see if he had recovered himself, before she continued forward into the next room.

This room wasn’t as large at the actual dojo room at Mienshao’s place had been, but it wasn’t much smaller than that. Aside from a small pile of coins off to one side, the room stood void of any items or pokemon.

“Wait, what was that?” Gengar questioned, rubbing his head and following his escort.

“The roserade line attracts prey with the smell from their flowers,” Nelvana told him, “we’re just lucky they have bad defense and this one happened to go for the whips over trying to poison me.”

“And you could just ignore it; that smell? If it’s because of your type, I am a poison-type so that should have given me some sort of advantage,” he pressed.

“I have experience with pushing through that sort o- Ack!”

Nelvana flinched as the ground she stepped on suddenly revealed an odd tile under her feet; her distraction causing her to miss spotting this trap ahead of time. The tile had a question mark on it, and before they knew it, four more pokemon had suddenly joined them in this room.

“Dammit! Pokemon trap, get ready!” Nelvana warned, brandishing her club offensively in front of her.

A toxicroak was the first to attack, leaping towards Nelvana with a hand raised and venomous knuckle claws ready to kill. She shifted her position, readying herself just in time to whack her opponent away with all her might. The dungeon spawn was flung backwards, landing on the floor a few feet away and sliding backwards afterwards. They slowly began to rise back to their feet a few moments after landing, though their struggle to do so was evident. The toxicroak’s sac on their throat began to bugle and swell with poison as they began croaking and trying to drag themselves back into the fight.

For now though, the muk right in front of them was Nelvana’s next opponent. She stepped backwards and swung her club down on the giant, living pile of purple sludge. It didn’t go down in one hit either, but fortunately it was slow, and the second ground-type attack made it disappear in defeat in a flash of light before they had a chance to try landing their own first move.

The third pokemon that had spawned from the trap though, a skuntank, seemed less interested in attempting to battle the cubone, and set their sights on Gengar; who was beginning to look like he would rather be elsewhere. Their claws shone a dark purple, and they reared up on their hind legs to attack, but missed their mark when their target disappeared and reappeared onto the other side of the room.

Unwilling to give the skuntank to figure out that Gengar hadn’t actually gone far and was dazed momentarily from teleporting, Nelvana stepped up towards them next; but not before realizing that the toxicroak was still crawling over to her, and using bonemerang to finish them off before they had the chance to become a problem. The skuntank sprayed out a vile fluid from the tip of their tail at her, which she barely managed to duck in time from the poison, which splattered on the back wall of the room.

Standing back up fully, Nelvana made her first swing at the skuntank, hitting them square in the head. The second hit, however, the skuntank managed to catch in their teeth, forcing her to headbutt them instead to make them let go.

“Uh, got a problem over here!” Gengar called out.

Four pokemon had been summoned with the trap, and now the last of them, the crobat, had decided to set their sights on Gengar like the skuntank had tried to. Unlike the sluggish muk and slow skuntank, this was a swift pokemon, giving Nelvana no time to change her opponent over to them, especially when this close in melee already.

The crobat spread their wings, speeding towards Gengar. In retaliation, he tried using his sucker punch attack to throw them off, but the dark move barely seemed to even make this dungeon pokemon react, and they continued on course all the same. Their wings sliced into his side as the crobat flew by, making a clean cut that drove deep into him and instantly spouted out a red blood from the wound.

Gengar didn’t even had a moment to gasp, or to really mentally register the hit, or even to clutch his injury before slumping over onto the floor, defeated in one hit. The crobat turned around in their flight, looking over him with a vague disinterest now.

Nelvana’s eyes widened as the world seemed to slow around her and her vision blurred.

Her first worry was if he was even still alive, but she forced herself to hold out, to not jump to that conclusion so fast; there was no way that one attack could have just killed him, right…?

Her next thought was how she had failed, she had failed to protect him and they were barely over five minutes in this dungeon. Mienshao had been wrong; why had he put so much faith into her if she had failed so fast. She was supposed to be Gengar’s escort and she couldn’t hold off just a few pokemon.

Her third thought on this was barely a thought, and just the sudden realization that Gengar’s blood was red; more like a human than a ghost or poison-type. The stench of just blood seemed so vivid over all the other fogs and poisonous gases in the room, and her stomach churned and her mind spun from it all.

All of her thoughts were suddenly cut off by claws scraping against bone, and Nelvana’s head being forced down to the floor by the skuntank. The sound of an alarmed beeping sounded out soon afterwards; her badge warning her that if she didn’t heal her client soon, then it would automatically send them back to base.

The skuntank breathed heavily on her neck, and Nelvana knew that if she didn’t pull herself together and act soon, they would go to finish her off next. All her previous fears and anxieties at this situation began blurring together in anger. Anger at this dungeon, at these traps, these poison-types that thought they could get the jump on her. And anger at herself not only for messing up, but for getting too caught up in her mistakes.

Nelvana let out a loud snarl, turning herself around the best she could and kicking the skuntank right in the muzzle with one foot, and then following it up with the next after a momentary delay. Unable to handle this attack on top of the previous damage, the skuntank rolled over to their side and disappeared like the other defeated dungeon spawn.

She pulled herself up to her feet again, spinning around and racing to the crobat, who seemed to have the same intentions of attacking. Nelvana met the crobat head on, literally, by slamming her head into the bat pokemon before they could land their attack. The crobat fluttered backwards, doing their best to keep flying despite the heavy hit, but Nelvana was ready to follow up her previous attack with a new one. Instead of using her club, she lifted her foot and stomped down on the crobat, sending them to the ground. When they didn’t disappear and showed signs of getting back up, she stomped again, finally making them faint and disappear.

Slowly, Nelvana’s mind began to clear again as she breathed heavily. As she let herself think more about what just happened, it occurred to her that she hadn’t used that move before. While powerful, it had… scared her.

The beeping only quickened, drawing her back over to where Gengar was. She rushed back over to him, not hesitating in digging in his bag with one hand until she found one of the reviver seeds they had collected and shoving it at him.

Much to her relief, the golden seed glowed and then faded to a dull brown as the beeping from her badge stopped, and Gengar groggily opened his eyes with a groan. He winced with pain, trying to turn away and close his eyes again, but Nelvana nudged him to get his attention.

“You are not going down this fast, not when we’re this close,” she hissed, but she couldn’t hide the worry in her voice. “Stay awake; I’m going to bandage you up.”

“Gah… what did tha’ thing hit me with?” Gengar slurred, slowly opening his eyes again.

“Keep your eyes open but don’t look at the wound,” Nelvana instructed instead of answering, digging through the bag again and pulling out a roll of bandages along with an oran berry. “Are you able to lift your head up a bit?”

“Yeah…”

Gengar craned his head up slightly, trying to prop his arms to keep himself up better as he did so. While he did this though, his gaze drifted down to where he was feeling pain from, and he paled at the sight.

“I said don’t look!” Nelvana insisted firmly, shoving the oran berry at Gengar. “Eat this instead; stare at a wall and count as high as you can if it helps you.”

“How am I…” Gengar trailed off, taking in a deep breath and deciding to follow Nelvana’s instructions rather than keep asking questions.

With Gengar now more stable and, albeit mildly, distracted, Nelvana began working with the bandages. She didn’t have much with her here, so she figured this would have to do for now. The oran berry would definitely help, among other things, so she trusted that it would be fine.

Without anything to properly clean the wound though, she was forced to sacrifice some of the bandages to pat away from of the nauseating blood first.

“Okay, can you sit up now?” Nelvana forced her voice to be calmer, focusing on her own breathing nearly as much as this task.

Gengar obliged, trying to sit up too quickly at first and wincing, but then succeeding on his more careful, second try. Nelvana began gingerly wrapping the bandages around him and his wound, finding herself acting without thinking about what she was actually doing at this point. Distantly, this reminded her of fixing up Octillery’s injuries from Magma Cavern, but even then, that had reminded her of something she still was unable to remember.

Finally, she finished wrapping up the wound, and after ripping off the extra and rolling it back into the bag, she patted her handywork to see if it would actually hold. Gengar appeared more alert now, and seemed to have decided that it would be alright to watch the last steps in fixing up his cut.

“There, that should hold for the rest of the dungeon,” Nelvana said, though part of her doubted the truthfulness to her own claim. “How are you feeling?”

“Better…” Gengar murmured, hesitantly tracing a finger over the bandages. “At least, better than when you first got me up. The oran berry helped for sure.”

Nelvana exhaled with relief, “that’s good to hear. Normally I’d say you should try taking it easy, but you might not be given that choice. Just do your best to stay careful, alright?”

“Alright,” Gengar replied.

Deep down, Nelvana awaited something more. For him to tell her to be more careful, to confirm her own self-doubts about her ability to keep him from getting hurt here. However, he said nothing more on the matter, and appeared more focused on trying to stand up on his own instead.

Once Gengar was back to walking around on his own, they continued through the dungeon in silence. Nelvana was more thankful than this than ever, using this time to focus on hearing the dungeon pokemon and spotting traps before they got stepped on.

They managed to get up to the second floor, and Nelvana’s stomach twisted at that count. Mienshao had told them there would twenty floors in this dungeon, and they had only completed one percent of that number. Never had that number felt so impossible to climb to. She ached for the presence of her teammates to help make the last stretch of this journey just go by better.

Their next opponents were a dustox and toxapex, the former fluttering in from one of the other pathways and the latter rising out from one of the pools of liquid. Nelvana’s clenched her teeth at the sight, and then glanced backwards at Gengar.

“Actually, I’ve got a good idea, how about we go through the walls for some of this? It’ll make me a bit hungrier and whatnot but that’s easier to recover from than so many battles,” she suggested, rubbing her thumb over the mobile scarf tied around her knuckles again.

“Uh… maybe not? Come on, you can take these guys!” Gengar responded, “you aren’t scared of them, are you?” he pressed, but Nelvana cued in to how he sounded more scared than she did.

“I’m not scared,” she lied, “but even if we don’t use this idea now, it would be good to use in the future.” Nelvana insisted, “Besides, they can’t hit you in the walls. It’s safer for you, at the very least.”

“Nah, I’m perfectly fine out here,” he lied back, “just… don’t feel like going into the walls right now.”

Nelvana opened her mouth to question Gengar, but the dungeon pokemon weren’t about to let the pair keep having their discussion on their own, and she realized she was going to have to deal with them. Both the dustox and the toxapex went down with some well thrown bonemerangs, leaving only the scattered poison dust from the bug in their wake.

“Why don’t you really want to go in the walls?” Nelvana questioned, spinning around to face him properly. “Look, if it’s a fear or something, I get it, but that ability is something that’s really handy and you-“

“I can’t!” Gengar blurted out, curling his hands into fists. “You happy? I never figured out how to travel through walls. I managed shadows, but that’s… weird,” he snapped, “I never learned how to float, either,” he added under his breath.

“That’s it…?” Nelvana paused, and then unwrapped the tattered fabric that was around her knuckles before handing it over to Gengar. “Someday you’re going to need to learn on your own, but for now, I value your safety more than that lesson. You can hold onto this again.”

Gengar blinked, “wait… really? Just like that? But what about you?”

“I’ll manage. Just take it,” Nelvana sighed.

After another moment of hesitation, Gengar accepted his mobile scarf back. He immediately went to tie it around his arm like he used to, but after discovering that it had been torn again and no longer made it the full way around, he settled for tying it around one of his spikes instead.

“Great, let’s keep going,” Nelvana said, turning around and heading into the next room.

They made it through the second floor, and continued onto the third floor and the ones after that. Now for every battle, Gengar would use the mobile scarf to slip away into a nearby wall, leaving Nelvana to handle however many foes where there to herself. Once the danger was gone, he would come out again to walk behind his escort through the hallways of the dungeon.

They were stronger than any of the spawn back at Mt. Blaze and the Frosty Forest, but their common poison-typing seemed to give Nelvana the right advantage to even that difficulty out, at least somewhat. Their numbers certainly seemed to just make matters worse though. Though it somehow didn’t make her feel good to admit it, fighting was a lot easier when Nelvana didn’t have to worry about her client getting beat up.

Traps were still an issue though, as Nelvana couldn’t always figure out where each one was ahead of time, and sometimes Gengar wouldn’t follow directly behind her and step on something she hadn’t gotten the chance to warn him about. The traps varied from hitting them with chestnuts or a gust of wind, to confusing or putting whoever had stepped on them to sleep, and of course, spawning more pokemon. Nelvana was thankful that none of them had been too bad so far though, all things considered; there was always the chance of finding either of the two possible traps that would split them up, or one of the traps that would outright drain all of one’s energy.

While they expected monster houses to be a big problem, those were surprisingly easy to avoid. As Nelvana realized, before actually walking in, thankfully, only the rooms with a monster house would have items other than a few coins. Though Gengar seemed tempted to snatch some of the TMs, he understood the danger of that enough not to actually go in; even if he could just go hide in a wall. So, this meant that they were always avoidable; unless that happened to be the room with the stairs to the next floor.

Which of course was bound to happen sooner or later.

After getting lucky with nearby stairs for a couple floors up to the ninth, and then that luck completely turning around and forcing them to search the entire floor, they found the stairs in a room practically filled in every floor space with various items.

Nelvana let out a sharp hiss as she looked over the room, eyes just narrowing at all the orbs and TMs littered about; something that she could only bitterly think that would make Kecleon swoon in awe. Gengar peeked over her shoulder to see what was up ahead, and his mouth slowly turned down in a worried frown as he pieced together what this meant.

“What are we going to do?” Gengar whispered, leaning back away from the opening to the room.

“Well, I’d rather not face an entire monster house on my own…” Nelvana mumbled, stretching her arms. “So, I’ll have to try sprinting through. You hide in the walls, wait until all the spawn get thoroughly distracted before going for the stairs,” she explained.

“Are you sure…?” Gengar questioned, looking over the large room. “That’s a lot of distance to cover.”

“Well, unless you have any better ideas, this is what we’ll have to go with,” Nelvana replied, reluctantly; she didn’t actually enjoy this idea much either, but she wasn’t going to try facing a horde all at once.

“You…” Gengar paused, trying to think of something. “You could wait for them to come to you in the hallway, and use bonemerang to knock them all out one by one.”

Nelvana considered the idea, but eventually had to regretfully shake her head, letting out a small sigh.

“I’d like that, but I could run out of energy for the move,” she told him, “and if something comes behind me, it’s all over from there,” she added, “it’s alright, I’m ready for this. You go ahead and hide in the wall.”

Gengar stared at her, still reluctant to follow through with this idea, but slowly he stepped back and faded into the wall behind him. Nelvana stared back at the space where he once was before turning back to look into the room. After preparing herself, focusing her energy just in case, she bolted in.

Instantly the room shook around her as various dungeon spawn seemed to drop out from the ceiling around her. Nelvana forced herself to ignore them and keep running, diving in and around the other pokemon before they had the chance to really realize that she was there.

Once they did realize though, an entire crowd had their eyes trained on her, the mere feeling of it making her throat tighten at the instinctive feeling that tore at her mind and memories, both forgotten and still clear as day. Despite this pushing more fear deep within her, it also pushed her to run faster, honing in on her path towards the stairs.

A scolipede charged at her, ramming their head at her side and forcing her to the ground, but Nelvana clawed her way back to her feet again and forced herself back into the same sprint. A muk swiped a hand at her as the ran, but she spotted it out of the corner of her vision and managed to leap over the attack. The poisonous gas of various pokemon began filling the room, clouding her senses and only burning her lungs even more.

It wasn’t until the dungeon pokemon seemed to at least vaguely get the idea to team up that Nelvana really ran into trouble though. When another toxicroak leapt from behind her, aiming a kick to the back of her head, and a seviper posed themself right under foot that she fell down again. When the seviper then coiled itself around her body that she couldn’t get back up right away. When she wasn’t running, the dungeon pokemon began closing in.

Nelvana wrenched her arm with her club free, hastily bashing it into the seviper’s head to get them away from her so that she could stand up again. But even at that point, what once could have been considered a clear path to the stairs was now blocked by the rest of the pokemon, surrounding her.

“Nelvana!” Gengar yelled out.

She didn’t turn her head to look right away, she didn’t want to get distracted in a moment like this, but the thought crossed her mind that she shouldn’t be able to hear Gengar if he was still in the wall.

Hurriedly, she shoved her way through the pokemon in her way, earning herself poisoned spikes in her skin and claws raked across her fur in response as she forced her way through. Even as she made her way through that part of the crowd and steps closer to the stairs, her head was beginning to swim under the effects of the various venoms that were trying to make their way in her system.

Suddenly another weight barreled its way into her, and before she could react properly, the world warped around her. Her previous spot fell away from her, and after what felt like being spun around like a whirlpool, she found herself suddenly shot back onto solid ground, but now in front of the stairs.

The weight was still on her though, and the way her warmth drained out from her the more it remained on her made Nelvana realize that this was Gengar, and he had just teleported them closer to their destination. Blinking through the dark spots that bubbled in the corners of her vision, she looked back at her ally, who seemed to be experiencing the same sort of post-teleportation daze she found herself in.

But past that, she could see that the monster house wasn’t about to just give up on them after that.

Pulling herself together, Nelvana crawled away from Gengar’s weight that was leaning onto her, but grabbed his hand to try dragging him up the stairs.

“Get up! We’ve just got the stairs and then we’re safe!” she called.

Fortunately, Gengar dragged himself up as well, and the two ran the rest of the way up the stairs.

Nelvana could feel the air become clearer on the next floor, and as she took in deep breaths, the poisons slowly left her body. They were lucky to have no more foes up on this new room on the next floor, and took a moment to catch their breath.

“Hah… good job there,” Nelvana commented, “I didn’t know you could teleport more than just yourself. That… That was really weird, but it definitely worked.”

Gengar rubbed his forehead with one of his hands, “I didn’t know I could do that either,” he admitted with a laugh, “I was just running in there with no plan; so, I’m glad that worked out for the better.”

“Oh, well, me too,” Nelvana chuckled, shaking her head at that last part.

“Next time though, I’m grabbing some of those items,” Gengar joked, letting out a wheeze between his laughter at his own joke.

“I really hope we don’t have to concern ourselves with a next time here,” Nelvana replied, rubbing her sore side from being shoved around so much.

They remained there for a few more seconds, before Nelvana stretched again and stepped forward, ready to continue through the dungeon. Gengar silently followed over to stand by her side, but not before untying the mobile scarf from around his spike and handing it to the cubone.

“I think… I think that I want to try your plan,” he told her, “I need to learn how to go through the walls on my own; it’s safer that way.”

Nelvana blinked, but accepted the scarf, hesitantly and slowly tying it back around her knuckles “are you sure?” she asked him.

“Yeah, but, uh, if you think we have the time, I’d like to practice a bit first,” Gengar responded, glancing back at one of the walls.

“Oh, of course! Go ahead; maybe I’ll see about adjusting to this thing too,” Nelvana replied, “we shouldn’t take too long though, just to get used to it, alright?”

Gengar nodded, and so they took some time to practice going through the dungeon walls. After many minutes of Nelvana going in and out, trying to not stumble in a daze at every exit, and then helping Gengar make his way in without the use of the item, they began managing the strategy.

Once Gengar figured out what he actually had to do to enter the wall, he was able to learn how to stay in and grow more comfortable quickly. It took a lot of work to get there though; Nelvana trying to get him to think about how it felt to use the mobile scarf to hopefully get him cue in to some of his ghost-type instincts.

Getting the time to practice wasn’t that easy either. Dungeon spawn would eventually wander their way in, and Nelvana would have to swiftly handle them before they could become an issue to the training pair. Plus, eventually they got an ominous feeling that they had stayed on the same floor for too long, and had to run along to find the next set of stairs so they would be able to continue practicing without that danger.

Eventually though, Nelvana and Gengar agreed that they would be able to at the very least get through the rest of this dungeon using this plan. Taking in a deep breath, Nelvana stepped into a nearby wall once more, the mobile scarf tingling around her hand as she did so, beginning to lead the way for their exploration of this dungeon with a new perspective.

Walking through walls for an extended duration of time was something she found that could only be really described as tight. Everything felt so constricted around her, and trying to move only ate away at her energy, making her feel hungrier. She could still see though, and in fact could see outside of the wall, giving everything outside a ghostly appearance.

Glancing backwards at Gengar told her that he was having less troubles with this. His biggest struggle had been to get in, and stay in, in the first place, and not how the experience felt. It was more natural to someone with the ghost typing anyhow.

Thinking it over, Nelvana wasn’t sure if this allowed them to cover ground faster. They had to pause every once and awhile for her to catch her breath and nibble on one of the apples they had, and it wasn’t as if this showed them to the stairs more efficiently. However, it worked for her plan of avoiding the pokemon here, and that was what she felt mattered more in this instance. It wasn’t foolproof, they still were forced to battle, but it was better than the alternative, she found. At the very least, this meant that there were less traps to find.

Gengar followed behind Nelvana, glancing out at the main hallways and rooms whenever he could. He watched them pass by rooms with more items but also the promise of a monster house, as well as just other dungeon spawn wandering about. Seeing the former irked him slightly, the temptation of nabbing some of those items always nibbling at the back of his mind. Who knew what kind of rare TMs were gathered around here…?

“Pst, Nel,” Gengar called out, hurrying up to get closer to the cubone. “I was thinking… since we can hide from the pokemon like this, maybe we could grab some items from a monster house room?”

Nelvana shook her head, “don’t get overconfident,” she told him.

“Okay, but what if we just set it off, and then wait for all of them to get bored and leave the room, so we can safely grab whatever is in there?” Gengar continued.

“I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not sit in here any longer than I need to,” Nelvana replied, taking in a gasp of breath as they hopped out from one wall, across a hallway a bit, and into the next wall.

Gengar sighed, shaking his head at himself. He couldn’t believe that he had almost forgotten that this wasn’t as easy for her as it was for him, for once. If he really wanted those items, he would have to do it in a way that didn’t put either of them in risk; which was nearly impossible.

“Well, you may have gotten your wish, in a twisted way,” Nelvana groaned, looking out to the next room. “This room is another with the monster house and stairs. And here I’d hope we could make it through the last couple floors without this kind of trouble…”

“Oh.” Gengar bit his lip, part of him feeling guilty for having wanted something like this to happen. “We could just run through, if you want.”

“I do want that,” Nelvana responded, “but, if you think that you have enough of that shadow traveling ability down or a good teleport ready, I think I can trust you to grab one or two things before we make that break for it,” she added.

“Uh… I think I’ll go for teleport.” He teleported more than he used his shadow traveling ability.

“Okay, I’ll be back here,” Nelvana replied, meeting Gengar’s eyes for a moment before looking out to the room ahead of them.

He nodded, and then nodded again to stall for time to work up his own confidence. He tried mapping out where he could go; there were a few items already close to where they were that he could probably get safely, but would it be too reckless to go grab that one further ahead?

Finally, he shook his head this time, and made his first steps out into the room, activating the monster house around him. Gengar quickly grabbed the TMs he had planned for, and then decided to risk trying to go for one more, and took another step forward.

The ground changed into a tile with an electrode under his foot. Before he had a moment to teleport or turn around to ask Nelvana what this was, the trap exploded.

Gengar was flung away from the trap by the force of the blast, tumbling a few meters away from it. He lay there for a moment, his ears ringing and head throbbing. His side where the crobat had hit him earlier stung in an agonizing pain again, but he could still thankfully feel the bandages safely wrapped around his injury. Slowly though, he pulled himself up, staggering as he looked around at the results of the explosion trap.

The wall that Nelvana had been hiding in was destroyed from the detonation, and the cubone herself was taking in deep breaths as she recovered from the blast herself. Many of the spawn that had been around the area were either stunned or defeated, though those who had been outside of that radius were completely unharmed.

It occurred to Gengar that he couldn’t hear anything aside from the ringing in his ears, despite seeing that Nelvana seemed to be trying to yell something. Was she calling out to him? He couldn’t quite tell. He rubbed his ears to see if that would help his hearing.

Suddenly, as he watched Nelvana try fending off some of the recovering foes, it clicked in Gengar’s mind what kind of a situation they were in. She was fifteen, he was thirteen! What were they doing, risking their lives all on their own? Nelvana had already had to fight legendaries; why was a young teenager out fighting the gods of this world?

What were they doing?

“-ut of it! We can’t just stand around here, come on!” Nelvana cried out, tugging on Gengar’s arm.

Gengar blinked, everything coming back into focus all at once as he was dragged over to the stairs. There were still some dungeon spawn lingering in the room, but at a glance it appeared like Nelvana had decided to finish off any of them that had been affected by the trap. He did his best to pull himself back together, following Nelvana up the stairs and to the next floor.

“Hey Nel, do you think that since I have some memories of my future human self that I might act based on those memories sometimes?” he blurted out, thinking back to what had just gone through his mind.

Nelvana looked back at him with a look in her eyes that he couldn’t quite place, “I… I don’t know, maybe? Why are you asking me this now?”

“I just… got thinking about age again,” Gengar murmured, “do you realize how young we actually are to be out here?”

“No…? What do you mean?” Nelvana questioned, glancing around the new room they had arrived in.

“Well… you know what, nevermind. I kinda lost my train of thought anyway,” Gengar replied, “also, you can let go of my arm now.”

Nelvana paused, blinking at that last statement. She looked back, realizing she was still, in fact, tightly gripping Gengar’s arm. She let go, moving that hand to fidget with her club instead.

“Right, okay… this should be the last floor, come on.”

Deciding to stick with the hallways for a bit, Nelvana didn’t enter a wall right away and began walking down one of the paths naturally presented ahead of them. Gengar followed along as usual, letting his confusion at his own question fade away to the back of his mind.

The goal of one last flight of stairs to go pushed them forward, finally reaching their destination after exploring many dead ends and other rooms on this floor. However, when the reached the base of the stairs, Nelvana spun around to face Gengar.

“Alright, so… this is it,” she announced.

“Yeah? I know that,” he responded.

“Look, I don’t know what Ninetales thinks that you don’t have, or what Mienshao thinks that you do have, but I know something,” Nelvana told him, “and that’s that Gardevoir forgives you for what you did, and I think that that counts for something. And… I think that I forgive you for what you did to me too. I’ve been looking back and thinking that over, and I think… A lot of things came out from that, and a lot since then. I think that I can forgive you for the bad out of that now,” she continued.

Gengar blinked, mouth silently parting open slightly from surprise at Nelvana’s forgiveness, which sounded incredibly sudden to him.

“But at the same time… I need to ask you something. Do you forgive yourself?” she asked.

There was a long silence, and when Nelvana realized that Gengar didn’t have an answer for her, she simply nodded and turned back around.

“You don’t need to tell me, but I get the feeling that it’s important to think about,” she said, “but, we shouldn’t be wasting anymore time. Let’s go see the judge.”

With that, she began climbing up the stairs. After a pause, Gengar followed her again.

First [ARC 1]: In which the human is transformed First [ARC 2]: In which a present is prepared Next: In which the judge is spoken to Previous: In which there is an entry test

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yabakuboi · 5 years

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good winter, I’ll be with you Chapter 7: miles, miles, miles

Read it here!

Jon doesn’t remember saddling his horse, doesn’t remember sneaking past the wildling man keeping watch by the fire, doesn’t remember leaving the little ring of light and disappearing into the darkness of the forest.

The world is a blur of gray moon-shade stretching long over the snow, and Jon is lucky that moon is heavy and full in the sky, bright enough to cast enough light to see by, the forest made of shadows. His horse heaves underneath him, running fast over the packed banks of snow. Jon knows it’s dangerous, knows the horse could trip in the dark, throw him to the ground, but he has to get away. As far away as she will take him.

“Why are you still running, Jon?” Tormund had asked.

“I love you,” Tormund had said.

He yanks hard on the reins and the horse lets out a high-pitched shriek, coming to a quick stop. Jon doubles over in his saddle, his face pressed to the horses mane, listening to her pant and wishing for Ghost at his side. They don’t move, the two of them, their breath fogging the air in white mist, sparkling in the weak light.

“Fuck,” Jon hisses to himself. He drags his gloved hand across his face, wiping away the tears.

Jon is a traitor. It is the one thing that has defined everything he’s done his whole life. Because Jon is a traitor to his own heart.

Tormund should have known. Tormund knows him better than anyone, so he should have known.

So why?

He feels sick, like he might vomit. Stumbling, he gets off his horse, going to his knees in the cold snow and heaves, choking on bile and air. The horse dances nervously on her feet nearby, shying away from the raw sounds of Jon’s sobs. Her eyes are wide and wild, disoriented in the cold dark.

“Fuck,” Jon sobs. “Gods be fucking damned.”

Sitting back on his feet, he takes a long, prickling breath of winter air. He can smell the stink of his own vomit, the sweat of the horse, the fresh powder of snow, the pines and oaks and cedar. There are tears stinging at his face, hot against cold. His legs and his back ache from the ride. His throat burns, his chest hurts, his eyes are tired, so tired, that he could curl up where he sits and sleep until he dies. His knuckles hurt.

“Damn him,” Jon whispers, blinking past the tears gathering in his vision. “Fucking fool of a wildling.”

His mouth stretches his face, and Jon distantly realizes that he’s smiling as he cries.

There are eyes in the dark, always, always, looking for the perfect moment, patiently waiting. Body coiled tight, ready to pounce. The wildlings keep their fires burning to blind any beast in the night. But, can you smell that? Can you hear those cries? It tastes like blood on the tongue. Fire casts the longest shadows, afterall.

Jon breathes through his nose and out his mouth, collapsed back on his heels in the snow. He sits there for what feels like hours and days, but can’t be that long at all. The stars haven’t shifted. He feels like a frozen statue, cold ice clinging to his skin like fire.

The forest is still. Silent.

His horse shifts, still at his side even though she could have abandoned him to the frozen night to return to her warm stable amongst the other animals the wildlings have kept. She nudges him gently against his cheek, her warm, velvety nose soft against his skin, snuffling against his shoulder and nibbling at his hair. Her breath tickles his neck until his hand finally comes up to run absentmindedly at her jaw.

She knickers at the touch, pleased. He feels a little guilty for never naming her.

“What would I even call you?” he says to her, and she snorts, pawing anxiously at the ground.

Huffing a laugh, Jon eases himself to his feet. He feels like he’s a hundred years old, his joints aching in the cold and his skin thin and fragile over his bones. The horse dances around him, urging him on, nudging him harder as if she’s eager to get him moving for home, insistent and demanding.

“Okay, okay,” he says. His chest feels a little lighter, his mouth curving up into a rarely used smile. He pulls himself up onto her back stiffly. He feels worn down, a stone polished smooth in the river current.

“I suppose that’s good enough,” he says to her. “River.”

It reminds him bitterly of Catelyn. But he can love River despite it.

He pulls River’s reins to the side, leading them home. Home where Tormund is—probably pissed off and waiting for Jon to come shuffling back with his tail between his legs. Jon wonders if he’s decided to sleep or decided to drink, or if he’s just pacing the circle of their house and pissing Ghost off as he goes. He almost wants to urge River into another trot, to get home a little faster, but he won’t this time. She carefully picks her way through the dark, stepping gingerly over fallen logs, the moon a wane light through the leaves.

The air is cold, but Jon takes a deep breath of the north air.

The forest is silent.

River stops short, standing stock still in a patch of moonlight, her ears pointed high up and forward.

“What’s wrong,” Jon murmurs, and she flicks an ear at him.

Jon squints into the darkness. There might be a shape, moving beneath the trees. Or it might be his eyes, his imagination. He tries to urge River along, but she refuses to budge.

Her ears press suddenly flat against the back of her skull, and a snarl erupts through the dark. River rears up, screaming, and throws Jon from her back. He hits the snow with a crack of bone and a curse. Beyond them is a slinking shape of shadow, a powerful silhouette with glowing eyes.

A shadow cat.

Jon curses and fumbles for the hilt of Longclaw, hands stiff from the cold. River dances on her back legs, kicking threateningly with her hooves as the cat stalks closer, perfectly at ease in front of its prey. The cat is massive, bigger than the horse, back rippling with deadly muscle and force, coiled up tight. It lunges suddenly, frightfully fast, slashing at River’s throat with long claws.

Blood splatters across the snow, black in the white light of the moon.

With a yell, Jon forces himself to his feet, his side screaming with pain, and swipes his blade at the dark beast. It dodges him easily and River makes a run for it, kicking up snow and blood as she goes. The cat snarls, but Jon stabs at it again, dragging its attention away from the fleeing horse.

Yowling, it rounds on him with dripping fangs, batting Jon to the side with a powerful swipe. He tumbles away and back to his feet in an instant as it charges him. They collide, man and beast, and Jon’s chest erupts in four lines of fire as claws drag down his front, slicing through wool and meat alike.

Weakly, he tries to slice the thing’s throat, but it tosses Jon aside again, throwing him into a nearby tree.

Jon struggles to his feet, the gnarled trunk at his back and his feet tripping on the roots. The cat regards him with yellow eyes, slitted like a snake, an easy meal laid out before it.

Spitting blood, Jon scowls. “Fuck you,” he snarls.

Quick as fire, it lunges at him again, claws at his throat, and Jon only just gets Longclaw up in time to impale the beast under its jaw, dragonsteel biting through bone and flesh and shining with blood as it pierces through the other side. It falls, heavy, across him, stinking of beast and forest and snow.

Blood runs hot down Jon’s face.

He closes his eyes.

“Jon.”

Whispers, whispers, Jon’s dreams are always whispers. Dany stands over him, with blood all down the front of her dress, eyes dead and cold, and whispers to him. Her lips barely move but he can hear every word, until her mouth opens, impossibly wide, fire on her tongue.

“Jon, you have to wake up.”

Ygritte whispers to him, blood flowing from between her teeth faster than she can speak. She chokes on it, body convulsing where she lays in Jon’s arms, and she whispers to him about betrayal, about love, about how she wishes Jon were dead.

“Please, Jon.”

Ned Stark whispers to him, his broad hand clenched tight around Jon’s throat, his eyes lit with rage.

“Jon! Brother!”

Jon doesn’t open his eyes. He can still feel the cold settling over him like a death cloak, but Bran is crouched beside him, brown eyes full of a desperate fear. Above them, the sun shines down through the ivory limbs of a weirwood tree, leaves as red as blood.

“Don’t give up now,” Bran says, and his hands are gentle on each side of Jon’s face. “Please, Jon, don’t give up when you can finally have some happiness.”

“Bran,” Jon tries to say, tries to reach for his little brother, but he can’t move, can’t speak.

Bran smiles like he knows exactly what Jon’s thinking. “Please, be happy. I want more than anything for you to be happy, brother.” He leans down and kisses Jon’s forehead like Jon’s done to him so many times before, and warmth blooms through him. Jon can breathe again.

“Jon,” Bran says, gently wiping away his brother’s tears. “Wake up.”

There’s a long, low howl that pierces through Jon, lancing a festering wound.

Distantly, he can feel four paws racing over snow and rock. There’s a man on his heels, big but quick, quick enough on his feet to keep up with the white ghost dashing through the forest. Jon wants to look back at him, to lift his massive head and breathe in his scent, but there’s something more important. Something else. Something lost in the woods. He can smell the horse sweat and the stink of a predator. He can smell his own blood on the ground.

There’s a shout, several, one booming loud over the others. Jon is simultaneously running over the snow and laying on the roots of a tree, trapped under a heavy weight.

He can see a dark shape in the forest, below a dark face carved into the tree. Ghost lifts his head and howls, and Jon howls with him, and finally opens his eyes.

Tormund is above him, blue eyes as bright as lightning, the only color in the washed out darkness.

The black fur of the shadow cat is flecked with snow, and when Tormund heaves it’s bulk off of Jon, it flops lifelessly on the ground at his feet, sword still impaled through its head. Jon breathes, even though his chest ache and his lungs burn.

There is snow on Jon’s face. Tormund is yelling, but Jon can’t hear him. Can only hear the desperate beating of his own heart in his throat. He feels only numb, and he reaches out, touches the warm heat of Tormund’s face, and Tormund goes still. There’s still blood on Tormund’s face still, caked in his beard, his nose crooked where Jon had punched him.

“Tormund,” Jon says.

#jonmund #got #game of thrones #got fanfic #my fic #shush mal #hello it's been a month #but here i am uwu

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