#with the sudden clear spreading pause it emerges into | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

knifedancer · 5 months

Text

Winds of Change - Bittersweet Ending

You've selected the BITTERSWEET ENDING!

Trigger Warning: major character death, implied possibility of suicide.

Go Back | Dark | Salt | Hope

~~~~~~~

~~~ Felix POV: 10 Years Later ~~~

Felix limped through the graveyard towards the familiar tree on the nearby hill. The wind rustled through the grass and whipped up the fallen leaves that crunched beneath his cane. He paused to tuck some longer strands of blond hair behind his ear, closing his eyes as he took in the peaceful stillness that exuded from this place. Releasing a sigh, he closed the distance to the lone headstone and bench beneath the shade of the tree; settling down in a way that would lessen the muscle stiffness that lingered from his old injury. Tikki solemnly drifted from his jacket pocket to rest upon the cold stone, paying her silent respects.

He let his gaze stray over the hilltop and down the embankment covered in marble markers before dragging them back to the one directly in front of him. “It’s been ten years now,” he declared quietly. “It still feels like yesterday when we lost you. I still struggle to put into words how big of a hole you have left in my—no, our lives, to express the sheer guilt I hold for your death…”

“Felix, it’s not your fault—” the red kwami murmured softly.

He cleared his throat and rubbed his now damp eyes, “I know it isn’t my fault, Tikki, but I wish I had known…I could have shared the burden!” Taking a shaky breath, he readdressed the letters carved into the surface. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there enough for you. I know you don’t blame me. The years haven’t made your loss any easier, but it has improved. I try not to let the past haunt me…sometimes I can’t help it.” Felix allowed his mind to drift as he stared off, delving into those sensitive memories once more.

~~~ Flashback ~~~

By the time the storm broke, Marinette had not regained consciousness, however her breathing had evened out and color had started to return to her face. Tikki’s healing ability took care of the life-threatening injuries and had stabilized her Chosen. There was still concern about the loss of consciousness and obvious concussion. Would there be brain damage? She would need to be watched for any behavioral changes or sudden mood swings. Could the heal factor even assist with cognitive impairments? So much was unknown.

He replaced the vest and slung her satchel over one shoulder, making sure the peacock miraculous was firmly attached to the inside lining of his pocket. Now came the hard part. Carefully maneuvering her limp body gently through the opening of his amok shelter, he breathed a sigh of relief when Marinette’s head cleared the narrowed entry. Most of the shed had been blown away by the winds once the roof caved in, making it only small enough for one person to exit at a time. Recalling the amok would have simply left the timbers to fall down onto the two teens. Placing her back into a bridal hold, the blond gripped the designer’s body tightly to make sure he would not drop her as he pieced his way through the debris. Looking around, he saw residents beginning to emerge from their homes and digging through wreckage for lost items or people. The sky was ridiculously clear – if it were not for the large pools of flood water and blown down branches, not a single cloud in the sky belied the storm that had just raged.

He looked over at Duusu, “Do you have enough power for one more transformation? I want to get her to the hospital as soon as possible.”

“Of course, Master! I can probably hold it for at least five minutes,” she chirped.

“Perfect. Duusu, spread my feathers!” The purple light washed over him once again, leaving Argos holding an unconscious Marinette. Immediately his miraculous beeped its initial warning and he turned to Tikki. “Hide in my hood for now, we’ll get you both into the satchel when we arrive.” The ladybug kwami hurried to hide and nuzzled herself into the crook of his neck, the warm pressure seemed to lessen the exhaustion he was feeling. Magenta eyes turned steely with resolve; he launched himself onto the nearest roof, glancing about for landmarks made him realize how far off course the two had been blown. Another beep, three minutes.

Argos made quick work of locating a still operational hospital and his transformation made travel quick, the peacock holder just hoped that he was not jarring the bluenette with each leap. Even with his flashy outfit, not many people were looking upwards and, for those that had, they would only see a brief blur as he sprinted past. His miraculous beeped again, two minutes. He stopped on the edge of a rooftop of an apartment building and looked into the neighboring alleyway: it was clear of debris, water, and people. Perfect. He hopped down and whispered his detransformation phrase, seeing a weary peacock kwami settle on the ground from the corner of his eye, her energy spent. Immediately he felt each small bruise and wound on his skin, but Marinette’s weight in his arms refocused his thoughts upon the task at hand. “Tikki, help Duusu into the satchel. Stay quiet. I’ll try to get you both a snack once we’ve gotten checked in.”

The moment Felix was sure the two were settled, he briskly walked out of the alley and down a couple storefronts to the emergency entrance. It was packed with people, but a triage nurse spied the head wound of his ward and flagged him over to one of only a few open stretchers. He assisted the nurse in cleaning and holding Marinette’s head so they could wrap the wound. However, when he tried to settle her into a lying position, he felt a tug that prevented him from standing straight. The blond glanced down to find a pale hand gripping one edge of his vest; the unconscious girl’s face pinched in pain. Unable to dislodge or remove those fingers, Felix sighed before guiding his body onto the hard bed and around her. The nurse came back by with an emergency blanket, only raising a brow at the two cuddling teens before rushing off again. He could hear the two kwami giggling at his predicament but, seeing the lines on her forehead smooth and body relax with his proximity, he suddenly couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“Don’t complain when I’m not the blond you were expecting, Dotty,” he whispered in her ear while pulling her close under the blanket.

It had taken a good twenty-four hours before Marinette awoke and she was far too weak to try to move. Once they had cleared the air over her other identity – the subsequent panic attack was heavily muted by her concussion, preventing her from a full doom spiral – he had worked tirelessly to get in touch with her family. Her phone was trashed and waterlogged, her mind a jumble of pain, so he called Adrien. The model had helped contact their parents and insisted on flying Marinette back on Gabriel’s private jet. By the time the plane was ready, and Adrien had convinced his bodyguard to visit, the two had finally been cleared for release.

Unfortunately, Felix also got to meet Lila Rossi. The snake had wrapped herself around the model’s arm and insisted on visiting her ‘dear classmate.’ If his cousin had noticed how unusually protective the peacock holder was, always making sure to stand between Marinette and Rossi, never leaving them alone – though she certainly had tried – and refusing to leave the injured teen’s side…Adrien never mentioned it. After what the Fathom heir had learned from the bluenette and her kwami, he wasn’t willing to take any chances. Even without that information, he got a strange vibe from the Italian that told him she was definitely bad news. Felix had quickly decided to become the ladybug wielder’s permanent protector – even if that meant putting himself in the line of fire for his uncle’s attacks. He resolved to create a disguised sentimonster lapel pin for Marinette to wear so he could know of her current wellbeing without putting her directly in danger with Argos’ constant presence.

However, when they arrived back in France, the young designer’s concussion healed as expected and she was not the one whose behaviors were of concern. Adrien had begun acting strangely. He distanced himself from his friends, fencing teammates, and even his girlfriend; instead choosing to spend more time with Rossi. Felix could see the strain around the model’s eyes each time the liar wrapped herself around him possessively. He had approached the other blond privately, trying to figure out what was going on, but his cousin smiled sadly and simply said:

“…I’m doing what I have to, Fe.”

Meanwhile, Chat Noir started to appear less and less during fights. He could feel the strain on the bug heroine with each battle and started to assist from the shadows as much as he could while trying to keep his connection with the team under wraps. Argos couldn’t afford to accidentally lead Monarch to Ladybug. When the cat-themed hero did appear, the atmosphere was strained between the ying-yang miraculous holders. There was a massive imbalance in their dynamics! Chat tried to be chummy with Argos but, due to the nature of the secret alliance, it was difficult to form any sort of bond. Once they had recovered a few other Miraculi, Argos began strategizing with Ladybug over new allies.

“I trust you, Argos, to choose wise and strong holders.” The bug heroine’s words had left him being inordinately warm in a way that he had only felt with his mother before. Trusted, welcome, considered, camaraderie…now he felt ridiculous for how in denial he had been at the time.

You see, through the lapel pin and his own miraculous powers, the peacock holder could feel that the pain Marinette experienced was growing with each passing day. Deciding to be proactive against a possible akumatization, Argos took to secretly spending time with the young designer in hopes of alleviating some of those pent-up negative emotions. It started only on days when her feelings were at their highest, then a scheduled couple of days a week, and finally almost every evening was spent either in her room or on her small balcony. He would detransform and they would discuss her latest designs or book he was reading, sometimes opening up about themselves. The taciturn blond began to look forward to their time together, even the companionable silences where only the whirring of her sewing machine and the crinkle of pages filled the air. Over time, Felix realized he was developing a crush on Marinette but kept it to himself, unwilling to be the homewrecker in his cousin’s relationship. Their friendship was more important.

Then the night he feared most came to pass. There was such emotional upheaval in all of Paris, Felix was sure there would have been another Scarlett Moth incident had it not been for Uncle Gabriel’s fashion show related absence. As he struggled to process the tidal wave of emotional input crashing into him, the chain on his neck turned ice cold and began to aggressively vibrate against his chest. Something was horribly wrong with Marinette! His transformation words were out of his mouth as he leaped from his window, furiously pushing himself to be faster and not caring if anyone saw him as Argos soared over rooftops. Any images of him from that night only show a purple blur as he had rushed to her in a panic.

‘I’m coming, Dotty! Please wait for me!’

He could see her precariously leaning back against her railing and, for a moment, he was afraid she was going to fall. Then her phone slipped from her grasp, knees trembling as tears rolled down her extremely pale face, and his senses went haywire as she went into a full-blown meltdown. Then he feared it would be more of a jump than an accident. Argos landed just in time to catch her as Marinette’s knees collapsed, pressing her face into his chest to quiet the ear-piercing, heart-rendering, screeching sobs that wracked her small frame. Just the noise alone felt like a hundred daggers impaling his heart. He wrapped his whole body around her, trying to make her feel safe and protected. Argos scanned the rooftop for anything that might have caused her distress, his eyes landing on the dim phone screen displaying an image that made his blood boil…

There was Adrien, clinging to some unknown redhead in a revealing dress and shoving his tongue down her throat on a secluded hotel balcony. The headline read:

EXCLUSIVE: ADRIEN AGRESTE OFF THE MARKET?

ROMANTIC DATE BECOMES HEATED NIGHTTIME TRYST!

He stared at the phone in anger until the screen went black. ‘I can’t do anything about that now…’ He dropped his gaze to the bluenette in his arms, hearing her painful sobs slowly turning to hoarse whispers. ‘She’s my priority.’ Tikki appeared from the attic room below, worried eyes flicked from her holder to the hatch before the little red goddess returned from whence she came. Argos was always amazed at the immense connection that Marinette had with every kwami, especially her own, as they seemed to feel the most intense affection for the young Guardian. Even Duusu seemed to favor the blue-eyed girl over Felix; although he suspected that was more for the berry tartlets the bakers’ daughter fed her than anything else. And now that same ladybug kwami – that had looked at him so defiantly in that shed all those months ago – trusted him with the safety of her most precious Chosen. To be trusted by the Goddess of Creation was a high honor for a betrayer, such as he, to earn. Looking back down to the tear-stained teen in his arms, he wondered if that meant he had finally earned the bluenette’s trust as well…

Argos waited until Marinette’s sobs died out and became soft snores, having worn herself out from crying, before carefully picking her up bridal style and taking her back to her room. The chain around his neck remained cold but was no longer buzzing, hopefully the worst was now over. He tucked her under her covers, brushing hair away from her eyes, as the two rescued kwami snuggled into the crook of the Guardian’s neck to comfort her. Tikki floated beside him, sorrowful eyes affixed upon her holder. Unable to help himself, Argos leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to her brow. ‘Rest well, my sweet Dotty.’

“I assume an akuma did not appear because Monarch is not in the vicinity, correct?”

Argos glanced at the tiny goddess before returning his gaze to the slumbering girl, “You know I cannot answer that without ensuring my demise.”

“We need to know his identity to end this war, to allow all Parisians to feel emotions as raw as what she went through tonight without the fear of being possessed!” Tikki’s frustration was palpable from the venom in her voice. “She could have been akumatized!”

“I made a deal with him, one that I cannot break—”

The goddess cut him off with a swift and commanding “No!” that seemed to resonate in his very bones. How could he forget that Creation was just as terrifying as its counterpart? Argos trembled looking into her big doe eyes, now filled with rage and a touch of deviousness. “Argos and Felix cannot break the deal…”

Magenta eyes widened with realization, “…but a different hero can!” He quickly detransformed and motioned Duusu and Tikki toward the pink chaise where he settled, that night the three plotted quietly.

With a touch of acting during the next akuma fight and some help from Tikki, the new hero Phénix was born! In one fell swoop, Felix was freed from suspicion – due to Guardian-induced amnesia – and Argos was no more. Marinette reintroduced herself to Felix several weeks later, a new student that struggled with gaps in his memory and whose forgotten previous actions made him an instant outcast with his new peers. Their friendship was instantaneous and stronger than steel. He provided the young designer with solid alibis for her absences – since Ladybug was always with Phénix in battle – and shielded her against any bullying attempts. It also helped that the looks of jealousy and pain his cousin shot the amnesiac blond from the front row fueled his internalized malicious glee. Marinette’s mental health and emotional state slowly improved, Felix’s soul surged with happiness as he watched her heart heal. When the time was right, Phénix was the one to reveal Monarch’s identity.

Having seen the way Ladybug’s bluebell eyes burned with vengeful rage – a sight that made his heart race at her Valkyric beauty – the peacock holder was suddenly very glad he had done so during a moment of relative safety: just after defeating Monsieur Pigeon for the hundredth time. At least Monarch would not be able to akumatize the heroine until he could recharge. Not that the resulting akuma would actually do the villain’s bidding…but Phénix did not know how he would ever get such a glorious, wrathful goddess back under control.

Oh, he had heard of Chat Blanc’s rampage after Hawkmoth was Cataclysmed in another timeline. It was during one of their post-patrol, heart-to-heart chats after her heartbreak. He recalled the painful conversation with absolute clarity…

“Maybe I’m not supposed to find love until after Monarch is defeated,” Ladybug sighed into the Parisian air from atop the Montparnasse Tower late one night.

He refused to acknowledge his aching heart dropping in his chest, “Why do you say that, LB?”

Phénix felt the terrifying fear rolling off her in waves, her stare unfocused upon the stars as if waiting for something. When nothing came, her shoulders relaxed incrementally and her voice came out in a soft whisper, “There’s a future hero named Bunnyx, her power is over Time. In the past, I’ve been called upon to undo the mistakes of future Ladybugs that caused worldwide destruction, erasing the entire timeline, and leaving only the two of us with the memories. The first time it happened…”

As the words tumbled out of her, so too came tears over the absolute horrors she had witnessed. Suddenly he understood the weight that hung over her, that leeched into her troubled civilian life, and saw the shattered young woman in totality. Guilt for his part in that weighed heavily on his heart. Holding her close that night on the tower, the peacock hero swore he would end her suffering – this Miraculous War – once and for all. When the inevitable butterfly appeared floating towards them on the horizon, attracted by her negative emotions, Phénix deftly wielded the yo-yo to capture it while Ladybug was in no state to. The instinct was inherent but the stars of adoration in her eyes when he returned to her side made it all worth it.

The final battle was planned over many weeks, meticulous in detail and cautious in scope, and new allies trained in the Miraculous. One a weather-obsessed akuma victim from their school who was passionate for revenge and the other a stoic boy he had previously observed as Argos helping injured citizens to shelters in the battle zones. After hearing about Blanc and the black cat’s increasing absence, Felix argued to bench Chat Noir in the final fight. Marinette refused to be cowed, “We started this fight together, we will end it together. End of discussion!”

The fight itself was long and arduous, requiring a power-up to elongate their transformation times. The team was sporting a multitude of injuries by the time most of the Miraculous were stripped from Monarch’s hands. Chat had surprised them both by fighting with a vicious seriousness they had never seen before. In the end, Phénix stripped the last brooch from the fallen villain and stood over an unconscious Gabriel Agreste. Ladybug cast the cure to heal their wounds, some would have been life-threatening if left untreated for much longer. Their relief and joy erupted in cheers from their newest members, Kobra and Huntress. Even Phénix, his Miraculous beeping a two minute warning as he recalled his amok, shared a warm smile of victory with the bug heroine a couple meters away as she held out a fist for their final celebratory fist-bump. Emotions were high and the peacock hero was exhausted enough that the sensory input felt like static to his fried senses. The other three holders pulled themselves up and began to make their way across the room…

That’s when disaster struck. It all happened so fast. A furious Gabriel, inadvertently healed by the Cure, pulled a sword from his cane and sliced the back of Phénix’s leg as he rose to his feet. The wounded peacock cried out and fell to the floor, barely hearing the frantic call of 'Phénix!', clutching at his bloodied limb in an attempt to staunch the flow. With a blood thirsty scream, the villain then charged at the heroine, aiming to skewer her through the heart. The spotted girl had turned towards the sound but didn’t have time to dodge, Phénix’s eyes widened as he reached out a hand as if to grab her away from his spot on the floor. Kobra and Huntress were frozen in shock, nowhere close enough to respond in time. A blur of black shot forward and pushed Ladybug out of the way with a bruising shoulder check…only to reveal an impaled Chat Noir, sword through his chest, glaring down Gabriel’s self-perceived triumph.

Blood bubbled up from his throat and dribbled down his chin as he spitefully called one word, “Cataclysm.” Within seconds, the disgraced designer turned to dust before their very eyes. Then the cat hero dropped to his knees, hands shakily cupping the sword in his chest as he struggled to breathe.

Ladybug screamed and rushed to his side, carefully angling her partner into her lap as tears rolled down her face. “No! Chat…the Cure…I can’t…Why did you…” Phénix dragged himself closer, desperate to comfort her as the jagged edges of her emotions ripped across his mind like shrapnel.

The hero smiled painfully and grabbed one of her hands, words coming out between wet coughs, “I couldn’t let him hurt you, Milady. I’m sorry I was gone so much. I had to keep my father from figuring out the Black Cat was beneath his roof…”

Ladybug gasped as the information filtered through her consciousness, Phénix choked on a cry. Adrien was Chat Noir! He must have figured out who Monarch was and had been dancing to Gabriel’s fiddle to keep him from discovering his secret identity, from gaining another advantage over the team. No wonder Chat had tried to be so friendly! Then Phénix recalled the sorrowful smile his cousin had given him months earlier as tears slid down the peacock’s cheeks, “You idiot. Why didn’t you tell me?” Chat’s pain filled eyes turned towards him just as the brooch’s transformation gave out, revealing a bloody and grief-stricken Felix.

“Fe…?” The cat hero’s smile rivaled the sun even as his other hand trembled while reaching out. Felix grabbed it, their blood mingling between his bare palm and Chat’s hex leather. “Of course, it was you all along…” The coughs were getting wetter and his green irises began to dull. “Keep…my girls…s-safe. Tell M-Mari…I’m s-sorry…”

Ladybug’s sobs echoed in the chamber as Chat turned to look up at her one last time. His voice was fading slowly now, barely a murmur but the smile stayed on his face regardless. “Don’t…be s-sad, this c-cat had a great ni-nine lives. I’ll…always b-be wi-with…you…”

With his last breath, his transformation fell away to reveal a dead Adrien Agreste and a passed out black cat kwami. That night they had also found the remains of Emilie Agreste, making the final battle even more tragic as the entire Agreste family was wiped out almost overnight. With the help of Guardian Su-Han, they found a way to revert the miraculous to their former glory and returned them to the Miracle Box…but they could not celebrate. The cost was so high… It was a bittersweet, pyrrhic victory.

~~~ Present Day ~~~

Tikki cleared her throat, jostling him from his thoughts. Tracing the headstone lettering with his eyes as he wiped away a few rogue tears.

IN LOVING MEMORY OF

ADRIEN ÉMILE GABRIEL DONATIEN ATHANASE AGRESTE

CUT DOWN TOO SOON

BELOVED SON, COUSIN, NEPHEW, AND FRIEND

YOU’LL ALWAYS BE OUR HERO

SEP 12, 20XX – JUN 27, 20XX

“I’m sorry I didn’t visit the last few years; a lot has happened. There was an investigation by the Justice League into the heroes of Paris, not that any remain active. Batman tried to convince the new mayor to set up some sort of spotlight that would have a ladybug on it? Bizarre, to be sure. Rossi was arrested after trying to break into the mansion for something…we think she was after the Grimore, perhaps hoping we left a Miraculous behind.” Felix pressed his lips together in a grim line at the thought.

“Plagg did curse her with bad luck, though!” The little red goddess giggled.

He was all too glad when the little cheese gremlin recovered from the loss of his holder but how Adrien had ever put up with his constant hunger complaints was beyond Felix. The blond chuckled, “It did make all the good luck we had to spread after that worth it when she tripped while walking up the courthouse steps! I thought only Mari could be that clumsy!” He smiled softly towards the grave once again, “There’s also a few more members of the family you should meet—"

A small happy cry of “Daddy!” interrupted his words, he turned just in time to catch a three-year-old blond girl and hoist her into his lap for some tickles. Felix smiled lovingly down into her pale green eyes that reminded them so much of her namesake, letting her hands tug at his tie as she giggled uncontrollably. “Andrea Athena Amelie Fathom, where is your mother?”

“Daddy! Sh-shtop! Sh-she’s…with B-Bennie!” Andrea managed to stutter out between laughs.

“Felix! Are you torturing your little golden chick again?” A playful singsong voice called from the path meandering up the embankment, bringing his tickle attack to a standstill as his beloved wife joined him at his side.

“Now, my dearest Dotty, what makes you think I would torture our precious princess?” He arched up slightly to retrieve a kiss before sitting back on the bench.

Marinette had grown a bit after high school, doffing the pigtails for a braided bun now that her hair had grown past her shoulders. Her eyes remained that alluring color of bluebells that sparkled whenever she laughed. However, gone was the gangly teen, replaced by a refined beauty with hourglass curves any woman would die for. He had spent so many years scaring off riffraff attempting to flirt with her while she was grieving her fallen partner. He was over the moon when the gorgeous woman he had called his friend had asked him on a date in university!

Their subsequent engagement came fairly quickly after that, Felix having known she was the only one for him since that fateful trip to China. However, Plagg was apparently very protective of every one of his Kittens, no matter how brief their stint with his ring. The tiny God of Destruction had given him quite the shovel talk, but it was Sass’s quiet ‘what he sssaid, but timesss a thousssand’ comment that had been nightmare inducing. Gazing into the smiling eyes of his wife now, all he could think was: ‘Worth it.’

“Mm hmm, like I believe that, Feathers…” Marinette grinned down at her husband, both hands full – one with a baby and the other juggling a bag and a bouquet of flowers.

“Andrea, why don’t you go help Mummy with those heavy flowers, hmm?” The little blond nodded eagerly and hopped off his lap to assist, he outstretched his hands towards his wife with a little ‘gimme’ motion. “Let me take Bennie, my dear. I know you want to clean the grave and that will be hard with our wiggling little beastie in your arms. Looks like he’s ready for his nap.”

His wife acquiesced with a smile, handing over their youngest before settling down on her knees to brush the dirty and dead grass blades away from the grave marker. Benedict ‘Bennie’ Manton Sabin Fathom was a one-year-old with the personality of a cat – affectionate wiggle butt one minute, stoic grub the next. His dark hair and blue eyes came straight from his mother, but the attitude was all Felix, at least according to Grandma Amelie. Andrea was planned, her name a fitting memorial for their fallen Chat. Bennie was a surprise from a second honeymoon that they had taken for their vow renewal. Felix adored both of his children, finding any excuse to hold or play with them and never let his cane get in the way. He knew his wife was open to the possibility of more little scamps in the future, should her fashion career permit it. Felix was perfectly fine being a stay-at-home trophy husband.

“Mummy, what are you doing?” Andrea questioned innocently; her face mostly obscured by the large bouquet held in both arms.

“I’m cleaning Uncle Adrien’s grave, Love. He was Daddy’s cousin and Mummy’s very best friend growing up.”

“But why?” The tiny blond’s words sounded a little whiny as well as curious, the older blond noted it might be time for her naptime as well.

Settling a sleepy Bennie into the crook of his neck, Felix watched two of his favorite ladies trim the weeds away, wiping down the stone with a rag and water bottle, and exchanging the flowers in the memorial vase for the bouquet. “Because it’s important to Mummy and Daddy. We want Uncle Adrien to know we remember him.” Taking a stone bowl from her shoulder bag, his wife set it before the grave and placed a few small paper objects inside before using a match to light them on fire. As the contents burned to ash, Marinette proceeded to light a couple sticks of incense and place them in a small groove in the tombstone base specifically designed just for such a thing while saying a short prayer.

Andrea watched with interest, absorbing the actions like a sponge. “Mummy…do you think Uncle would want some company?”

The older bluenette smiled, “Awful lonely way up here. I bet he would, why?”

Hesitantly, the little girl pulled out a small black cat plush keychain she always kept in her pocket and held it up, “…Would he like Mr. Whiskers?”

“Are you sure, Sweetie?” Felix and his wife exchanged a concerned look, their daughter never parted with the cat. However, Andrea just nodded and hummed an affirmative.

Tikki floated down to rest on the blond child’s head, nuzzling into the waves with a smile, “I think that’s a delightful idea, Little Bug! I’m sure Plagg would be happy to cuddle with you if you ever miss Mr. Whiskers!” Taking a cue from her mother, Andrea placed the little cat against the upright stone and tightly pressed her hands together to give a little prayer.

“That was very kind of you, Andrea. We’re very proud of you.” Marinette gently pet their daughter’s hair, “How about we go get a bit of ice cream on the way home? Uncle Adrien loved ice cream.”

Those must have been the magic words as she perked up with an ecstatic ‘OKAY!’ as the little girl followed a floating Tikki back to the car. His wife rose to her feet and dusted off her knees before gathering her things. “We wish you were here, Kitty. I know you would love the kids and being an uncle. We’ll be back around your birthday with Plagg next time. I know he misses you.” Pressing a kiss to her fingers, she then let them linger on the top of the tombstone with a sad smile.

“You know, he’s probably haunting us right now…” Felix joked softly so as not to wake the baby.

“Oh stop!” Marinette quietly chastised her husband, shaking her head at his antics. “What possible unfinished business could he have to be a ghost?”

“Well, we both know he would have liked to have made far more cat puns than he had the chance to,” his words made her scoff, but her eyes were laughing.

“Come on, give me Bennie so I can take him back to the car. Say your goodbyes, my love.” Carefully transferring the slumbering boy, she gave Felix a quick kiss before heading back down the hill. He watched her go with a soft smile.

“I’ve been taking care of our girl, just like you told me to, Adrien. She’s…they’re my whole world.” The blond pulled himself back onto his feet, balancing his weight with his cane as he rested a hand on top of the marker. “I hope I’ve done you proud. Give my regards to Aunt Emilie.”

As Felix slowly limped back to the car, he paused halfway to glance back up to that lonely grave on the hilltop. Only one plot was taken, but there was room for two more when the time came. Knowing a bit about the blessings of the Miracle Box upon his wife and their family, he knew that day would not be any time soon. “Cat-tch you later, cousin, and…thank you.”

~~~~~~~

Go Back | Dark | Salt | Hope

6 notes · View notes

kahztiy · 5 months

Text

YD6~08 Sin City's Ex-Croupier: Janine's Tie to Jacqueline

I’ve cruised the Johannesburg highway exit the city’s northern edge, to enter the night street grid to traffic lenses crawl the residential block, into Hillbrow. the city from our teens’ dying nightlife, but I’m preoccupied with Janine’s blizzard instructions. “Pick me up at ten o’clock.” While I’m in a riddle. ‘_Why waste the best part of a Friday evening?_’ The bustle of crowds volatilized from the sidewalks. The east straight trickles one-way street traffic amid dancing neon lights strobing facades to upper floors of nightclubs and restaurants, to craggy high-rise walls evanescing into the night. A few walking figures pass the portal’s bright arcade to parallel streets, with empty escalators to upstairs restaurants and night stores. While the far opposing supermarket’s open doors and the far corner whitewashed storefronts absconded with nightlife glitter. I’m crawling around the corner clears the shadowy side street to subdued lampposts’ light, in the straight raising the Hillbrow Television Tower. With the upcoming intersection, my fingers swipe the slip of paper off the passenger seat. Glanced at Janine’s scribbles, stunned, that the street corner post nameplate matched. ‘_My luck!_’

I crawl the curb, to the deserted backstreet, to the walls of towering apartment blocks, searching the entrances and then locating the numbers. I’m creeping along cars along the curb, nearing a light flooding across the street. Coasting to a halt, I glanced at my wristwatch. ‘_Just on time!_’ The distant streets’ grid echoed lost car honks as a reminder. ‘_How am I supposed to announce my arrival to Janine?_’ I gazed across the asphalt, the curb to the sidewalk, deep through the widespread glaze of the bright deep foyer. From the corner of gleaming marble and mirrors’ shadows emerges a waspy figure in a calf-length dress, peps gait, crossing the grayish gleaming foyer. Paused in front of the middle plate-glass. Long sleeve reaches, I’m assured of Janine by her pulling effort, passing an evanescent glaze, but dawns on me. ‘_I’ve never mentioned what car I drive?_’

Janine out in the open world, with a distant regard, presses her strides across the street, approaches without a stray glance. Persistent, in her wavering flimsy summer skirt around the car hood, to figure in the passenger window. Her figure sways by the door swing, slips sassy to sit - smack - the door. She drapes slink in her seat, with a hand fall to her lap, while her other hand lowers her handbag to the footwell’s shadows, to raise her right finger pointing over the dashboard, signaling. ‘_Drive_!’

Without Janine flinging a word, withdrawing her finger, we creep away a cabin brighten, falling to the shadows of lantern lights. striated sixties architectural towers’ shadowy cracks revealing entrances and windows in our passage. I’m on hold as the car creeps through a long gallery of masonry cladding concrete, to a sleek pitch-black roof. Short, an intersection break, while in my mind circles my ways out to Bophuthatswana, for help, exclaiming. “Hey Janine, where to?” To surprise Janine, snarling, ‘_You should know — everyone knows Sun City_.’ Her hand lifts out of her lap’s comfort, a hefty index finger around the corner. I steer the car crawl the curb, through traffic lenses the block a Z-course into the sudden vigor neon light dropping back, with an outbound trickling traffic, fast thin, as the night roof lowers onto jagged towers, ahead break-up to a few shadowing high-rises, with Janine quiet in her seat.

My restlessness’ therapeutic drive into the night sinking to shy and spread rooftops, leading to aerated suburbs behind sidewalk in chained lanterns, to track the peaceful shadows onto plowed headlights into the night to rest afield at a loss of the horizon. Headlights brush the incessant upcoming roadway from hideouts, arouse wayside blush green shrubs out of their shadows, such as a fragile princess peaceful in her corner. A blanket of far ripples straggling geometric shapes. As I search a dark corner, from the flares of the odd headlight hurting me behind the eyes. To stick my regard, track the timid stippled white line to the cars’ headline glow, glowing our compartment, to a sudden dead. Returning to me the dashboard lights, but obsessed, I’m pursuing the red taillight, wearing away from my curse.

Janine’s hand fiddles in her corner, by the footwell fumble in her handbag. Her figure’s shadows lean forward. She extends her hand slots an 8-Track cassette - clunk-clunk - Fiddling with the fascia’s dials - click-clang-click wheeze - the tape re-whine. The air reverberating jazz music. Janine leans back, sinking in her corner. The odd flare arouse in our way, at regular intervals along the endless road, to tag returning from our destination. My head immersed in an ongoing jazz orchestrating after the introduction, to bear the grunt behind the leading headlight gouging the night. I’m called to a sliver rising, to sprout shining a road sign to reflect a passing flash, awakening a diversion across the upcoming lane’s farm road’s apron. without appeasing jazz’s fatigue, the sharp resonance saturating my head.

The thought flashed a break from the Jazz, passing the pair of stilts signaling, “Magaliesburg 20 km.” Which increase closer, repeating flashing road signs. Against a barbed awaking horizon to a glow, along the roadway to scintillating a starry crescent parterre glow, creeping to besieging our approach. Raise lampposts halo sprouting through the suburban sleep, Janine jumps from her seat, awakening to stretch her neck, her eyes searching behind the bleakish headlights across the mottled street. Janine’s head turns with the passing streetlights along villas in the shadows to bushy yards. At a loss, she frets, with the upcoming yellow flashing traffic lenses. She wiggles out of her seat, waking up her hand from her lap, to waggle a pointing finger, increasing violent shaking her arm by her window to voice. “Left, left, left!” We crawled the ghostly suburb property, suburban corner. she relapses into her seat, as the dirt sidewalks to decorative yard walls run into the distance.

We speed up alongside suburban pitched roof houses to under foliage swells property backing our way out of town, on the lookout for the borders crossing into Bophuthatswana. But as the sign wasn’t coming, instead, arouse the lights of a ship at sea, when wayside headlight on an exhausted signal reflecting on the outskirts, “Rustenburg.” Cruised through wayside straggling timid farmhouses to green flocculent, overbearing rows of old trees shy herding wayside shadowy suburban pitch roof houses. Passing through town to emerge sailing a black river, dawning amid distant hilly sliver glowing folds.

Janine wiggles out her seat’s backrest, waggles a finger by her window, after cruising roundabout shadowy rolling mounts. the leading road evanescent into pitch darkness to a side jutting road which after groove through a bay glowing dome sprinkled with lights. Steer the car into the side road, riding in the dark, upon entering the hazy golden dome, a traffic jam to dismay. ‘_The Bantustan’s nowhere?_’ Approaching a bottleneck trailing two lanes of cars’ red tail lights, onto pulling up to a stop. Seeking along undulations trains sleek gleams and glass to confusion upfront. Betrayed by an officer, peak cap and uniform control a border post.

Straight and restless Janine dresses in her seat, as I found the lane creeping, and gazing over the gleaming rooftop. we approached a guard upfront amid gleams and glitters to trailing cars. Irate, she pushes a pointing finger onto her sight of the windshield, as I realize upfront cars’ gleams careens left and right into a gateway. The wings’ toward the overbearing mast we bypass and topped by floodlights, toward a bare asphalt field with rows of lampposts sprinkled with a few parked cars. I’m saying to myself. ‘_What’s getting into her_?’

Janine’s wild wiggles, to intense specter of her mind, leaping out her seat, through the windshield, while blind of the uniformed guard with pendulum arm swings hands controlling a sober traffic flow. Janine on a crusade, calls out. “There — You must go there — Go there!” Unable to drive by the creeping traffic, jammed by the guardhouse, in silence querying Janine. ‘_I can’t steamroll our way past_?’

A chain of cars drawn through the curve into the wings’ gateways, by a child's face, losing a military authority, slight, and dressed in a floating uniform, and sunk pea cap. to read her meaning in view past the native youth, proud of his uniform, standing on a raised curbed median, split the ascending deserted asphalt through a grassland swell, as Janine percussive persists. “Go, go, go...” Two cars up front turn away, clearing the way past the baby face’s starved eyes, as I break the traffic link, unshackled Janine’s agitated hand at arm’s length, from stirring my perception. Janine sinking into her seat, I ride with her hawk’s eyes over the rising hill rolling the crest raising city light pollution.

Janine appears immune as the hill arouses our entry through the gateway to a giant’s crown of glittery jewels, to a few figures among glim lanterns slipping behind. While Janine presses me from sparing a glance at the casino entrance. To drive past the portico glitters toward shadowing the dull leading road. With the shuttle buses’ sheltered platform until at the extreme, we circled to coast across the bare demarcated parking lot, spreading wide out of the edges of sight, Janine says, “Park here.”

Swift and slinks, Janine in fast strides, after the passenger door flings open with Janine jumping to her feet, smacked close. she headed past the Mercedes’ hood in diagonal along the plain brick wall, away from a dwarfing double door, toward the agape end with the bus shelter. In her graceful stride, shedding me. I’m a few easy-going strides behind, turning the yellow brick corner. upfront the portal’s crack to a fountain of neon lights and agitated glitters, Janine sways toward the entrance without straying a squint, unimpressed.

As I lined up, Janine’s spearheading through the ante-hall’s entrance, to slow her pace, descending steps to the stratum marble passage to the rotunda mall. She crosses an aisle to a pool of one-armed bandit machines buzzing - Click-ed, he, click…- She’s blind to the few seated people hunched over, dreary, succumbed to stares at the pace of slotting coins, palm the lever to pull. Janine’s piercing eyesight leads out the one-arm bandit machines’ pit, rushing to step the upcoming treads across the mall, as I’m strolling short on her heels, to a shadowing passageway.

Crystals jingle wing mirrors dilate ahead of Janine in pursuit of the passageway curving away and short-lived clearing an elaborate saloon gambling tables. Janine rushed the center aisle with temple blinkers past either side a few penguins dressed figures standing behind a gambling table, to a series of expanding tables with rising tagged stakes. She ran up to a predominant court architrave to carved yellow wood doors. Janine plows arms’ spread, swings the doors back, princessly she passes. behind Janine, spring resistant door leaf to an elaborate Privé Saloon. Janine’s figure disappearing in a soft lighting, to red upholstery and shining dark wooden gambling tables.

I’m tracking Janine through the Privé Salon’s central aisle, until clustered player to a roulette table, in diagonal opposing a deserted blackjack table. While players’ daunting eyes, I’m invisible, as gambling peers’ hands descend upon the green betting mat, placing chips across numbered grids. The croupier dressed in a penguin suit, at the head of the table, his fingers flip off a Russian Roulette’s wheel backspins, his palm drop a magic ball counter spin, calling out. “No more bets.” Gamblers around the table, eyes in suspense, to a silent wheeze intensified - Tock, tock, tock... - the ball jump to lie, carried dead still by the slowing roulette wheel to a stop. The croupier repeats to a frustrating bore, to lean over the table, racking chips from the betting grit, bar the winning number. As I’m watching through gamblers’ shoulder interstices, hands collect stacked winning chips. I’m watching hands placing bets, the croupier spinning the wheel, to ball jump, random fall still, to stop and racking in the winnings, the game unable to captivate my floundering luck. I’m raising eyes, to an extent, as I’m eager for control. I jump eyesight farther to Janine at the baccarat table.

Around the crowded Russian Roulette table, I paced as farther back a croupier, who I’ve watched across gamblers’ at the Russian Roulette table, hold a stance while clubbed busts wrap, among whom Janine had wiggled to sit hands placing bets to player or bank. Under intoxicated, hungry eyes, the croupier, tall in a penguin suite, draws cards out of the shoe to the baccarat table, again passing time. ‘_OK!_’ I thought. ‘_Instead of earning by the sweat of my labor, I’ll try my luck!_’ I step up the toe of a horseshoe at the table, while in quest of Janine’s magnetism, a few players along the right branch.

The iceman in me places a 10 Rand chip along heat radiating players’ hands, leaving stacks of colorful greater denomination chips. As the croupier draws cards from the shoe, nimble fingers flip to face, to player and bank. Paying out, and racking in, clears the table to restart drawing cards from the shoe, in a cycle of hands collects, bet, over and again, amidst my fingers, my little stacked chips gain and fall, questioning. ‘_Is Janine my lucky streak?_’

Janine leaves her seat, passes by with shady-eyes, slew a wry smirk, left trail her sarcastic words. “You bring me bad luck — playing at the same table.” She dragged in her wake her innocent lucky dust, as my stack of chips depleted, to rise from my seat, picking my last chip, walking away. The chip rolls through my fingers as I meander the hall’s tables over shoulders, languishing bets at green mats.

As I’m standing dubious by the Blackjack table, and out of boredom, glanced back. A latent waiter figured towering alongside the croupiers raked in and payout busy soft shaded gamblers’ islands. The waiter dances with a plateau raising a pinky, lifts the glass, stretches, and dive amid gamblers’ shoulders, heads tilting in placing bets, to draw back. The waiter withdraws, leaving a full straight glass on the table’s ledge. With a tango swing, he withdraws from the swaddled gamblers, leading a platter tilted at hand.

I’m pursuing the dancing waiter behind me, crossing the soft shines shaded saloon, turning away from the central aisle to move offside toward the far flank wall. I’m ignoring the waiter’s approach to the catering service hatch. As I’m stepping forward, to the idiocy of seating at the Blackjack table. Bet my last chip to watch the croupier draw cards dealing with a flit face up in front of me. I hit another card, and stay. The croupier’s hand whisks my cards, and my chip, for me to rise wondering, when called toward the figures standing by the kitchen broad service hatch into the shining white empty back room.

I approach a rudiment ranch guardrail to the backrest of a beige upholstered couch, ending short of the lateral wall. I turn for the gap by double emergency doors, ascend the wooden platform. I sought along the beige armrest by the coffee table to lower myself, sink into the soft molding cushions. To my relief of knitting needle piercing my lower back, while the jaunty waiter balances at hand a glass to a tray, vanishes left through the gap of the lounge cornering handrail to the gambling saloon.

The waiter reappears over my right shoulder, to dawdle as he flipped his tray at the end of the counter, leans a shoulder tall against the hatch’s reveal. in a glitch, I’m doodling hanging clouds over a stricken system. a caterer’s shadow behind the counter, to a drinking glass standing at the opposite end of the service hatch. The frisky waiter’s hand swipes the glass to a tray off the corner. Balancing a drinking glass, he jolly walks off, walks the evanescent central aisle into the packed saloon.

A blizzard burst through the double doors. Hefty bodyguards in black suits encircling the casino owner, Sol Kerzner’s impressive grand entry. But a youngster’s eyeballs roll astray, to break away from the hustle and bustle trailing crowd. He walks up to me, as I had restless stood up to stroll tracking back along the lounge railing to descend the platform, besides the emergency exit door. passing by the settee backrest I occupied earlier. I hurl at the youngster. “What happened to your face — ‘_Kid?’_”

In a swift reply, the youngster says. “I just came out of the ring, defending the junior championship title.” Awakened in me, while I’ve strolled by players at gambling tables, in the adjacent bowl. Sol Kerzner’s “Sin City” associated with promoting celebrities, and boxing, not strange. The youngster didn’t frown at my ignorance, neither offense by my blunt question. But I shrink in shame, while behind the junior champion, sponsors and organizers parade in dark suits, waste the junior champion.

While I cannot relate to his fist fight, soothing words for being punched silly, friendly and chatting, dodging blows. He leaves me tongue tight, struggling to find encouraging words, when two dark suite men emerge from the straggled crowd. Approach behind him, snatch the youngster away, and obliging, but my entertainment taken away. I return to the couch, dawdle on the young waitress, amplify the rigor past the catering hatch to distant stances, with the waiter in turn disappearing among the gamblers.

#consciousness #memoir #psyche #Zodiac

0 notes

aeide-thea · 5 years

Text

Lifted

Well, I guess no one can have everything. I must learn to celebrate when I fail. Inner growth and fortitude follow the sting, right? Won't I rise with holy wind in my sails? Yet they always seem to get what I want, door after door flung open. Why are the keepers of doors, who haunt the hopeful halls of fate and desire so partial to them, but not to me? Yes, I do feel sorry for myself—don't, brother, pretend the bitter blanket of self-pity hasn't warmed your bones. It's not lovers or fame I crave, nor even happiness, particularly. Only to be lifted, just once, above all others.

—Craig Morgan Teicher

#poetry #craig morgan teicher #this isn't‚ actually‚ a thing i feel #not because i'm ~better than this~ but because my yearnings aren't so comparative #but i do love a good talky sonnet that breezes through its rhyme scheme with a blithe surety #and i rather think that last line manages precisely what it asks for #with the sudden clear spreading pause it emerges into #leaving the madding crowd behind

109 notes · View notes

yuta-nakamots · 3 years

Text

only human - d.sc

Pairing - Boyfriend!Sicheng x Fem!Reader

Genre - Angst, Smut, Fluff, Established Relationship!AU

Warnings - implied character death, description of having a stroke, unprotected sex, creampie, cock warming

Summary - You dream about Sicheng all the time and love telling him about them when you wake up. But this one, you hope to never see again even if it did give you a happy ending.

Word Count - 2.1k

A/N - I really did dream this about Sicheng but without the smut lmao I was so freaked out when it was happening

Written for the Dreams Unfold Event hosted by @neosmutcollective. Check out the masterlist here.

You were driving on the freeway to a destination unknown, accompanied by your boyfriend Sicheng and his close friend Lucas. The reason why Lucas was with you was also unknown. There were hardly any other cars on the road, your headlights casting a desolate glow in front of you.

It was almost completely silent aside from the quiet lo-fi music that Lucas was playing through the sound system until suddenly from beside you, “where is my arm?” Sicheng muttered. You paid it no thought, thinking he was just drowsy from sleep. “How is the road?” His voice rose at the end, as if he didn’t know what the word ‘road’ meant.

“It’s good babe, it’s not too bumpy or anything,” you answered, playing along with whatever charade he was putting on.

“My head...hurts,” he groaned, “and we spin?” At this rate you were getting really concerned. Looking over at him, his face was contorted in pain as he was curled against the door, showing that he wasn’t just spouting nonsense.

“Lucas,” you whispered, checking into the rear-view mirror for him, “call the ambulance,” you ask of him once you see that he’s awake. He did what he was told as you pulled over to the shoulder of the road. “Give me the phone,” you commanded anxiously, which Lucas gladly obliged to, probably because he had no idea what to say anyways.

“911, what’s your emergency?” The operator began.

Your focus was on Sicheng again as you tried to describe his state. “Hi, I was driving on the I-205 and my boyfriend began saying weird things and saying his head hurts and something is spinning.”

There was a slight pause as the operator took note of the situation. “Ma’am, did he mentioned anything else.”

You knew he had said other things but couldn’t remember exactly what they were. You watched as his right hand flew to his left bicep before he whimpered pathetically, “arm gone.”

“He keeps saying that his arm is gone, but it’s clearly not.” You relayed.

“And these statements, are they in full, coherent sentences?” The operator asked.

“No, not really.”

“Ma’am I believe he is having a stroke. Please give me an address or approximate area so I can send an ambulance your way.”

“Uh, we just passed exit 288 I believe, we’re pulled over on the right hand side of the road on the I-205.”

“Alright thank you, medical support will be there soon. Please stay on the line with me until they arrive.” You nodded as if they could see you. “Where were you traveling to?”

“I-I don’t really know…”

“Uh-huh,” the operator acknowledged as if you had said a real location, “and who are you traveling with?”

“It’s me, my boyfriend, and our close friend.”

“May I ask for all your names and your phone number?”

By the time you had given the operator all the information, you could already see the flashing lights of the ambulance as it approached. “I think I see the ambulance.”

“Alright ma’am, thank you for your cooperation and I wish you the best.” With that the line went dead. How odd.

You stepped out of the car and motioned for Lucas to do the same. As the paramedics came to greet you with a stretcher, you led them to the passenger door, opening it as gently as possible so Sicheng wouldn’t fall out. He kept moaning and muttering things incoherently though he was clearly in even more pain and was more confused than before as the paramedics situated him onto the stretcher.

You and Lucas followed them as they loaded him onto the ambulance and allowed them to do their job. They were hooking him up to machines to take his vitals and you must’ve looked awfully distraught for Lucas to speak up. “He’ll be okay, you know.”

“How do you know that?” You question.

Lucas shrugged, “I don’t know for sure but it’s better than saying he won’t be okay, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you sighed apprehensively, “I guess.”

There was a commotion coming from inside the ambulance and you saw them beginning to do CPR on Sicheng and his heart rate flat-lined. Something about this didn’t seem quite right. If he is experiencing a stroke, why would they be doing compressions? As far as you knew, a stroke dealt with the brain while CPR was meant for the heart. And weren’t they supposed to be doing all this on the way to the hospital?

After what seemed like only a few seconds, the paramedics stopped assisting him and their leader came up to you, “he is dead but we will take him to the hospital for clearance.”

“W-what?!” You exclaimed as the paramedic walked away. Lucas had to hold you back from going after them and only released you once the ambulance started to pull away. “He’s dead? He can’t be, there’s no way! I swear humans can survive a few minutes without a pulse...they didn’t even try to restart it with the AED!”

As you stormed over to get into your car and follow the ambulance, Lucas held you once again, bringing you into a hug. “Y/n, it’s okay,” he whispered, grasping onto you firmly, the rumble of his voice spreading through you.

“But Sicheng isn’t okay! You can’t just let him go like that!”

“It’s okay,” Lucas repeated, though this time you felt his grasp on your arm get tighter and almost as if he was shaking you. “It’s okay,” he said once more, “y/n, wake up,” he pleaded. Though the voice wasn’t his, it was Sicheng’s.

“Wake up,” you heard once more and you felt your realities shift as your eyes sprung open staring straight into Sicheng’s from where he laid next to you, your limbs flailing at your sudden consciousness. “Hey, calm down, it’s just a dream,” he told you, one of his hands coming to rest on your cheek.

“It was- You were- Th-they said you were dead! You had a stroke and died but they didn’t even help you!” You spewed.

“Baby, it’s okay, I’m right here,” Sicheng assured you, “look, we’re in our room, in our bed, and it’s 4am in the morning.” He could tell you still didn’t believe him entirely. “We are not in a hospital, trust me. This is our apartment, the one we bought together last year.”

As your sense started to return to normal, your brain finally wrapped itself around the situation and you swung a leg over Sicheng, straddling him before leaning down and kissing him. “I though you were gone,” you confessed, tears welling up in your eyes at the thought of losing him.

“I’m right here,” he promised between kisses, “I’m not going anywhere.”

You basked in the feeling of his lips on yours, your tongues entertwining as Sicheng deepened the kiss. He wrapped an arm around your waist before sitting up, both of your torsos pressed tightly together. As you settled back into his lap, you felt something poking into your thigh. You broke the kiss to look down and saw the clear bulge in his athletic shorts, confirming your suspicions. “Dong Sicheng, I can’t believe you’re hard right now, at this very moment.” He pursed his lips, his eyes going wide as they bore into yours, waiting for your next move. “I had a nightmare that you died and you’re turned on by that?”

“No no, I’m not turned on by that-”

“Then what is it?”

“I don’t know,” his hands flew up in exasperation, “I just woke up from you tossing and turning and it was like this.”

Resting your arms around his shoulders and bringing your forehead to his, you brought your bodies impossibly closer while ever so slightly shifting around in his lap to tease him. “I don’t believe you,” you told him with a smirk.

“Well are you going to help me or not?” He nearly pleaded, his hips pushing up against yours.

You snuck a hand past the waistband of his shorts, unsurprised at his lack of underwear. “I guess I have to,” you complied, grabbing ahold of his warm and pulsing length. You began pumping a hand up and down his cock, causing his head to fall to the crook of your neck. Sicheng left messy kisses across the expanse of your neck, and exposed collar, his hands going up your shirt to gently cup your breasts until he decided his was tired of it and began puling your shirt off.

The second it was off past your chest, Sicheng’s lips were already on you, covering the untouched areas of your chest, latching onto a nipple while his hand played with the other. You cradled his head almost as if he were a baby, with both of your hands getting lost in his soft brown hair. You let him suck and fondle at your breasts for a little while longer until the ache in your core grew to be too much.

After sliding your bottoms and near-soaked underwear off, you repositioned yourself above the head of his cock, using a hand to help guide his member into you. As you lowered yourself onto his length, Sicheng busied himself with kissing along your jaw, his hands moving to hold your hips once you were fully seated in his lap. Ever so slowly, you let yourself rise and fall on his cock, making him moan and lean backwards against the headboard of the bed.

Placing your hands on his broad chest, you used it to gain leverage as you began bouncing on his dick. Sicheng looked so pretty beneath you, his cheeks flushed a light shade of pink, his lips plump and slick, his skin covered in the slightest sheen of sweat. You continued your movements until you felt your legs growing tired, opting instead to draw mindless shapes in his lap. You relished in the way his slick member slid in and out of you, feeling so good when it stretched you out.

This tempo wasn’t all to Sicheng’s liking though, but he took matters into his own hands, his arms coming up from behind you, his fingers gripping onto your shoulders as he rolled the two of you over and began rocking his hips into yours. You wrapped your legs around him, allowing him to push deeper into you as he gradually started to go at a steady pace.

He let go of your frame in exchange for planting his forearms on either side of your head so he could watch your expressions as he got high off of his cock. Your eyes closed at the feeling of overwhelming pleasure when he hit the deeper parts of you, filling you up ever so perfectly. “Yes, just like that,” you told him as your walls were clenched around him, so soft and warm whenever he thrusted into you.

Sicheng started to let out little whimpers as he continued thrusting, a sign that he was getting close. You reached a hand down to stimulate your clit, wanting to come with him while he moved to sit back on his knees, pulling your body further down the bed. In this position, he began drilling into you as he desperately chased his high. “Let me do it,” he breathed when he saw your hand between your legs. He pushed it away and quickly replaced it with his own, his thumb drawing circles onto your clit.

You heard his breath hitch and felt his hips stutter as his length twitched inside of you. Sicheng pushed himself to be fully connected with you as he released in your walls, shallowly thrusting as if to milk his own dick, “I love you,” you quietly blurted. The feeling of his hot cum spreading in your core brought you to your own orgasm, your muscles fluttering and spasming around him. Sicheng held you as you powered through your own release on his member, not wanting to lose the feeling of warmth around him just yet.

“Fuck, I love you too,” you answered as you started coming down off your high. You could feel the mix of your juices start to spill out when Sicheng set your hip back down onto the bed and moved to lie on top of you. His cock was softening inside of you but you didn’t mind it all that much since you were already on you way to sleep again though hopefully with a more pleasant dream this time.

152 notes · View notes

americxn · 3 years

Text

Run (part 5)

wordcount: 3.5k

warnings: teasing, slight smut

Kai’s side of the bed had long since gone cold when you awoke the next morning. Hurrying from the room, you cursed yourself for having gone to him, the restful sleep that his presence had provided you allowing your thoughts to become sharper and you scolded yourself for giving in to your want so easily. But as you dressed and readied yourself in the guest room across from Kai’s, your craving for him was undeniable, his face stark behind your eyelids whenever you closed your eyes, whenever you blinked. Your heart had seemingly already made the choice for you: It would take awhile for you to fully forgive Kai for what he had done to you, and you knew that when that happened, your want for him would simply burn even stronger. There was no point in forbidding something that both you and him so desperately wanted. A slow grin spread across your face as you mentally agreed with yourself that you were more than willing to give him a chance to love you. But where would the fun be in giving yourself over to him so easily? You turned back to your closet, pulling off the simple shirt you had just donned and replacing it with a tiny, low-cut crop top. Smiling evilly, you turned for the door, making your was down the stairs to the kitchen, silently hoping that Kai would already be in there.

The kitchen was empty when you arrived, causing you to sigh. Pushing away the dim glow of disappointment unravelling within your gut, you stalked for the fridge, grabbing some milk and setting about making yourself a bowl of cereal. You ate your breakfast leant against the counter facing the open kitchen doors, your eyes constantly flicking from your food to the door. Kai had probably gone out, you had woken up fairly late and he usually had errands to run that he preferred to do in the morning. The acknowledgement that you knew Kai’s routine so well made you smile softly. You stopped yourself, hurriedly shoving more cereal into your mouth, wiping at the milk that dribbled down your chin as you cursed yourself for already being so smitten with this man. Finishing up your breakfast, you chucked the empty bowl and spoon into the sink, filling a glass of water and draining it before bracing your arms on the counter. “You’re hopeless.” You whispered to yourself, pushing yourself off the worktop and slowly meandering to the kitchen doors, not sure what to do with yourself. The familiar sound of a car turning into the house’s driveway made you pause in your tracks, your head snapping to the window, watching as Kai’s large white car slowly rolled up the driveway. You stole that car. Your mind whispered at you. Pushing the thought away you watched as Kai emerged from the car, the door slamming shut behind him. Jerking into action, you jumped onto one of the barstools arranged around the marble island in the centre of the kitchen but cursed yourself as you realised that now you were sat stupidly at the kitchen table, along and doing absolutely nothing. But You weren’t given time to dwell on the thought as the front door swung open, Kai’s audible footsteps allowing you to track his short journey down the small stretch of hallway between the front porch and the kitchen door. He was whistling quietly as he came into view in the open doorway, his movements halting as he beheld you sat at the table. He wore a neatly ironed black shirt, the top buttons undone to reveal a portion of his chest, the top half of his faded blue hair pulled into a tight bun at the crown of his head. His car keys hung from his finger as his whistling stopped, Kai turning towards you and diverting his journey to step into the kitchen. You smiled at him, your elbows coming to rest on the cool surface before you, ensuring that he noticed when you squeezed your arms slightly tighter to your body in such a way that pushed your tits further together, your cleavage more than noticeable from the low-cut material of the shirt you wore. “Hey.” He greeted simply, wandering further into the room. “Hi.” You responded, leaning forwards in your seat to greet him. “Where have you been?” “Just running some errands.” You nodded at his vague explanation. “When did you wake up?” He asked. “Not too long ago, I slept in.” He hummed, before responding. “My bed is very comfy, isn’t it?” You tried in vain to keep your cheeks from heating, dropping your gaze to the table in order to avoid his dark eyes as they bored into yours, trying to gauge your reaction. “You should visit me in bed more often, y’know. I enjoy your company.” Whether he knew it or not, his implicit offer was clear: he didn’t mean just to sleep. You cleared your throat, adjusting your arms in order to enhance your cleavage even more. “Do you need any help with anything today? I need someone to give me something to do, I’m already bored.” Kai smiled slowly, his eyes roving over your body, dipping dangerously low before rising to meet your gaze once more. “Nah, I’ve got it covered. Thanks though.” He shrugged as he turned to leave the room. “Although, you could do me the favour of putting those pretty tits of yours away. I don’t want anyone else seeing them.” Your mouth went utterly dry at his boldness, your eyes trained on his broad back as he left the room without another word, resuming his whistling. You stared at the empty kitchen doorway for several moments, trying to ignore the effect that his words had on you as your pussy wetted slightly. Fine, if he wanted to play that game, you could play it just as hard.

Your teasing only got more and more bold over the next few days, and Kai’s reactions only became more and more noticeable. At cult meetings, you sat so close to Kai on the couch behind where he stood to address his group that your knees would brush the backs of his legs, his shoulders stiffening almost imperceptibly with each press of your clothed skin against him. Whenever you cooked dinner together, you would purposely brush past him again and again, leaning over the work surfaces slightly and pushing your ass out. Kai would return the carefully planned ‘careless’ treatment, leaning over you to reach for things from the cupboards, his hands falling to your hips with a ghost’s touch whenever he needed to get past you. Your outfits got skimpier and more revealing each day, the slices of skin that you kept on show for Kai begging him to make more comments on your body like the one he had made about your tits in the kitchen. But of course, Kai knew exactly what you were trying to do and refused to give you what you wanted, instead returning the treatment by ensuring that you walked in on him shirtless several times. This experience had left you flustered and unable to think coherent thoughts afterwards each time it happened, Kai indulging in the redness of your cheeks and the slackness of your jaw each time he allowed you to see the strong plains of his chest and back. And there was that time when you gone into Kai’s room whilst he worked downstairs, wearing nothing but a large t-shirt and your favourite panties. You had arranged yourself on his bed above the covers on your side with your legs tucked upwards to your chest, your arms gathering the pillow to your face. Kai had eventually entered the room after you had drifted off to sleep, his mouth falling open as he beheld you and the generous view of your bare ass that your position presented him. You had stirred five minutes later, disturbed by the sound of the shower running, Kai shivering beneath the frozen torrents of water as he forced himself to empty his mind of the truly filthy thoughts that had flooded his brain at the sight of your ass, your panties hugging your body so tightly that they were almost entirely hidden by the glorious curves of your ass. When he emerged from the shower several minutes later, he had composed himself enough to carefully move your body so that he was able to tuck you beneath the covers before stripping off his clothes and sliding into the bed beside you, his skin cold from the shower.

After some time of playing with and taunting one another, you had begun to lose hope that Kai would make a move on you, but your desperate prayers were answered when, after about a week of Kai enduring your teasing, he finally gave in, stiffly knocking on the door of the guest room late one night. “Yeah?” You called out, pausing the show you had playing on your laptop and looking towards the doorway. Kai appeared as the door was pushed open and he wasted no time in stepping into the room; closing your laptop, you pushed it to the bottom of the bed, greeting Kai with a questioning look. With his sudden presence, the room seemed to get smaller, filling with an agitated energy as you beheld his stiffly set shoulders. “Stand up.” He ordered, meeting you halfway across the room as you stood instantly as his command, the hard set of his face making your stomach flutter. He stepped up to you, his face an inch from yours. “You’ve been driving me fucking insane.” A slow smile spread across your face at his words. His gaze dropped to your grin, his jaw clenching, the muscles within feathering at your satisfaction. “Wicked thing,” he spoke through gritted teeth, taking another step forwards so that you were chest-to-chest. “I didn’t think you were enjoying it that much.” “Oh, of course I was.” You exclaimed coolly, your hands raising to settle on his chest, your fingertips tracing swirling patterns onto the soft fabric of his shirt. Kai’s eyes were dark as they bore into yours. “Are you finally going to let me do something or what? I don’t know how to make my apology even more clear to you.” You pushed his lowly spoken words aside, just wanting to forget about everything but the glorious man before you. “I don’t want anymore apologies, Kai. I want you to show me how sorry you are.” Your tone was light as your fingers roamed over his shirt, wishing that it was his warm skin you were touching as you raised your eyes to his. He hummed, his hands shooting out to latch onto your wrists and removing them from his chest. “Oh, I will.” Kai promised, stepping forwards slowly whist using his hold on your wrists to back you towards the bed. The tight hold of his slender fingers on your skin was intoxicating and you ached with both want and excited trepidation about what would come next. “Is that a threat or a promise?” You ventured, the knot of excited nerves gathered in your gut growing. “You won’t have to worry about that yet. Now stop talking.” His hands released your wrists, trailing slowly down your chest to the front of the vest you wore. The sound of the fabric tearing filled the room as his fingers hooked into the neck line, pulling the material apart in one clean rip. It fell to the floor around your feet, Kai not giving you so much as a second to track his movements as his fingers moved to hook roughly into the waistline of your pajama shorts. He quickly slid the garment down your bare legs, following the movement with his body until he was kneeling on the floor before you. You could barely breathe as he looked up at you, his hand trailing lightly up the back of your leg to your upper thigh. Your panties were the next thing to be discarded on the floor, Kai smirking as he gripped the back of your knee with his hand and pulled your leg up onto his shoulder. Your head tipped back of its own accord, the proximity of his face to your already drenched cunt overwhelming. Kai’s hand gripped onto the thigh you had hooked over his shoulder as he leaned in to press a single lingering kiss to your mons. The simple action could’ve had you cumming right there but Kai pulled back, his hand once again finding the back of your knee as he rose, pulling your leg off his shoulder and hooking it around his waist once he had risen to his full height. You could do nothing but stare at his face as his fingers deftly reached around you to undo your bra, it’s rough straps scraping against your too sensitive skin as he eased the garment from your shoulders and arms. As soon as it had hit the floor, Kai pushed your back, practically drooling as you fell onto your back in an exposed sprawl. His eyes dipped to the apex of your thighs, his heart thundering with need at the sight of the glistening sheen of wetness coating your pussy; he pushed his overwhelming want for you aside, needing to extract his revenge for your teasing before allowing himself to have his way with you. You couldn’t suppress the shudder that racked your body under the intense scrutiny of his dark eyes. “I want your head on the pillows.” He ordered, watching as you scrambled to obey his command, your pert ass exposed to Kai as you quickly crawled up the bed, flipping yourself over and settling into the soft pillows. He was on you immediately, his knees settling on each side of your legs. “You want me?” He breathed down to you, his hands itching to touch every inch of you. “Yes.” You whispered without hesitation, your hands coming to settle on his shoulders. “I can see that you’re already wet for me.” He crooned, bringing his face slightly closer to yours. “Yes. I’ve been wet all week.” You admitted shamelessly. His face crumpled in mock sympathy. You writhed your hips beneath him, restraining yourself from whining at his sudden lack of action. “You’re sinful.” He whispered roughly and you nodded, agreeing with his comment with renewed desperation. “Keep your arms above your head.” You blinked at him, but did as he asked, your hands hitting the headboard as you silently complied. Satisfied with your obedience, Kai lowered his head to the base of your throat, his hair brushing pleasantly against your collarbones. His lips were soft and warm as he pressed several kisses to your skin, drawing a trail up the column of your throat to your chin. You followed his movements by tipping your head back slightly further with each kiss as he progressed up your neck, allowing him better access and silently inviting him to use his teeth to mark you. As soon as his lips had completed their journey to your jaw, skimming against the bottom of your chin, he pulled away, denying you the full kiss to your lips that you craved. He kept eye contact with you as he moved down your body slightly, his lips latching onto your ribs and proceeding to give them the same treatment that he had just forced your neck to endure. This time, he allowed his teeth to graze against your skin as he travelled from one side of your torso to the other, goosebumps forming in his wake, chasing after his touch. You couldn’t help but groan when he pressed his nose to the space just beneath your breasts, his hot tongue finally coming contact with your skin as he kitten licked his way up to your tits. Pausing at the bottom of their sloping form, he closed his eyes, listening to your laboured, shuddering breaths. From above him, your own eyes were clenched shut, your mouth slightly parted as you forced yourself to keep your hands above your head. All you wanted to do was to weave your fingertips into the blue strands of his hair but you knew that in doing so, you risked upsetting Kai and cutting this intimate exchange short. Using his tongue, Kai softly traced the area of skin where your pert tits met your torso, tracing and licking back and forth. “If you’re not going to touch me properly, then at least let me touch you.” Kai’s teeth latched onto your skin at your words, breathless and accented with whiny need, tugging painfully at your flesh as he raised his head slightly before releasing his hold on your skin. “No. Move your hands and I’ll leave.” He responded firmly. You groaned, your head sinking further into the pillows beneath you at his blunt denial. He dipped his head once more, this time skimming his warm lips along your abdomen, past your bellybutton and to one of your hips. You hissed softly when he bit down on your skin, simultaneously latching his lips onto you and sucking harshly. Kai moved back and forth between your hips, painting them in turn with blotchy, deep red marks, the sensation becoming slightly more painful as his brutal onslaught on your skin continued. In the midst of the intense attention that Kai was subjecting your hips to, you didn’t even notice when his hand trailed down the small stretch of skin between your hips, his touch light as he ventured over your pubic bone to the heat between your thighs. Using his fingers, he pinched the skin either side of your labia together, forcing your cunt to close in such a way that made your clit throb from within the confines of his hold. You gasped when he pinched harder, moving his fingers slightly and rubbing the outer part of your pussy together. Your clit jumped and pulsed in an attempt to gain any sort of traction, Kai’s fingers going still and effectively leaving you to jerk yourself off in his hold. You moaned softly as Kai moved his face away from your skin, dropping his gaze to watch as your pussy pulsated of its own accord in it’s desperation to gain some pleasure from his manipulative touch. He smiled up at you as your hips undulated in weak desperation, his hand not leaving your snatch as he moved back up your body, his face appearing before yours. Leaning down to your pleasure-contorted face, his mouth finally found yours. The kiss was a mere brush of lips before Kai’s teeth latched onto your lower lip, pulling back slightly with your lip still in his firm hold. You groaned when, all at once, his teeth released your lip, his hand leaving your pussy. “Be ready to stay wet for another week.” He said in faux blithe, his face disappearing from view. You couldn’t bring yourself to move as he left, the door closing softly behind him, bathing in such deep frustration that tears pricked your eyes as you listened to his light footsteps as he crossed the hall, the sound of his own door opening and closing like a physical blow as he left you feeling utterly empty and unsatisfied without his warm touch.

Even the freezing water of the shower wasn’t enough to dull the burning need searing through Kai, smoldering a little hotter each time your face infiltrated his thoughts, the sounds of your breathy moans under his close ministrations replaying over and over in his mind. After his shower, his lay naked on his bed, unable to take his thoughts off of you and what you were doing. Relieving yourself from your own frustration probably. The memory of the pleasant smell of your cunt and the hot wetness that had gathered there for him had his hand wrapping harshly around his cock. He had to bite onto the corner of his pillow to remain silent as he brought himself to orgasm not once, but three times, imagining that it was your smaller hand in place of his. He tossed and turned in bed for hours, your scent seeming to hang around him, taunting him and preventing him from the blessed closure of sleep. The fourth time he made himself cum left him still feeling painfully unsatisfied, but it was enough to douse the burning desire coursing through every part of him, sleep coming to offer him a brief reprieve from the strong memories of the sound of your laboured breathing and the feel of your hot skin under his lips.

taglist: @kitwalker02 @three-eyed-snail @forevercountess @kitwalkerangel @milly-louise @thecountessesglove (if you want to be added or removed, just send me a message <3)

#ahs #american horror story #ahs cult #american horror story cult #cult #ahs season 7 #kai anderson #kai x reader #evan peters #evan peters ahs

150 notes · View notes

nach0 · 2 years

Text

Ok so I wanted to do something more in depth for this but I'm so tired for no reason all of a sudden so I'm just getting this down before I sleep!

This is the basic timeline of events on Empires for the Prey No More AU starting from when Scott hit Gem with the ice blast and finishing when H!Gem and Ren arrive

When Gem gets hit with the ice she slowly starts becoming weaker and weaker. The nether helps, but it slowly starts to lose it's effectiveness and the cold only gets worse. Fwhip, worried for his sister and her refusal to ask for help, sneaks into the alliance room and steals the Xornoth crystal, making a deal. Fwhip would set them free and Xornoth would help Gem, keeping her from freezing over.

Xornoth finds Gem in the nether and uses the corruption around them to subtly influence her mind before revealing themself. They say that they heard how Scott attacked her and they want to help, offering to not only get rid of the cold but to also help her get her revenge.

Gem starts to refuse at first, Scott didn't attack her, but then she pauses as the memory surfaces and she sees one small detail that she somehow missed. Scott's smirk as he purposely aimed for her with an ice blast. Infuriated, she agrees to Xornoth's deal, all her concerns being washed away by the corruption that quickly spreads through her.

She spends a few weeks learning how to control it before she invites Scott (who's exile was short lived) over for a meeting. They chat for a while before suddenly she attacks, using the corruption instead of a sword or staff. Xornoth had told her that if he got killed using the corruption not only would her revenge feel sweeter but it would also suppress his out of control ice powers so he couldn't hurt anyone else like he hurt her ever again.

Scott doesn't attack back at first, mostly just dodging and defending while questioning her about why she's attacking him. However when it became clear that she was aiming to kill he fought back, overpowering her enough for him to escape and send out an emergency message of the situation.

She didn't try to attack him again, partly because he wouldn't let her get anywhere near as close, and many of the other rulers avoid her. She stayed mostly in her empire or the Grimlands, throwing herself into the work of not only ruling but also training and learning about the corruption.

About two weeks after the attack on Scott is when H!Gem and Ren arrive and that is where the next chapter of the story begins...

So yeah basic timeline and context for people so no one gets confused! Happy to answer any questions about the au (not just this specifically, anything about the au) but I will get to them in the morning when I get up! I love waking up to asks so don't be shy :D

#Prey No More AU #geminitay #scott smajor #fwhip #xornoth #empires smp #if you recognise any of these ideas from either asks I've send into empires headcannons or used in the rp no you don't /j /lh #not really that long but under a readmore anyway

23 notes · View notes

dracosaurusrex · 3 years

Text

Fireworks. (Draco x Reader)

Summary: In which Draco turns to his best friend, Y/N, for help with his first kiss.

Genre: Fluff; Childhood friends-to-lovers

Wordcount: 1.5k

A/N: I wrote this as soon as I finished my assignments. It’s not perfect, it was rushed, but the temptation was real and there’s most likely going to be a second part. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it for what it’s worth XD

Coming into Hogwarts for the first three years was defined by many things: An introduction to different magical subjects, the development of house pride, as well the strong encouragement to focus on passing exams and working hard to get good marks. However, wizarding children are not exempt from the rites of passage that were associated with their teenage years. That’s right. They were not exempt from the natural pull of attraction between two individuals, the resultant blooming crushes, which from there can go many different ways. Fourth year was exceptionally characteristic of that.

While you couldn’t be bothered--you were very much occupied with your studies--a certain Slytherin prince was.

“I can’t believe this, Y/N! It’s absolutely ridiculous!” The blonde boy furiously proclaims as he steps into your room. The sudden slam of the door jolts your senses as the focus you had on your homework immediately disintegrates. You pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes, refraining from letting out a string of foul words.

“What is it now, Draco?” You ask with a hint of annoyance. Your best friend of eleven years flops onto your bed. His arms and legs spread into a starfish shape, while a disturbed expression covers his face. You turn yourself in your chair to face him with an expectant gaze.

“Theodore and Blaise got their first kiss already,” He reveals. You pause for a moment to allow your brain to process what he said. However, a snicker leaves your lips, creating a juxtaposition to his deepening frown.

“You think that’s funny do you? Don’t you see my issue?” You felt bad. He was so obviously conflicted.

“No, I’m afraid I do not.” He rolls his eyes.

“Don’t you think you’re being a little too...I don’t know...dramatic?” You lifted your hand over your mouth to cover the smile that was threatening to come out.

“Dramatic? Y/N, word spread saying that even Potter got his first. Potter for Merlin sake! Out of all people!”

“Draco, I know for a fact that that isn’t true. Besides, why does that even matter to you? You never seemed to have a problem with it before.”

“I don’t want to be a lip virgin anymore!” You really didn’t want to laugh. As his best friend, you truly wanted to provide comfort, but his responses have been making it really difficult to do so. The sound of your laugh prompted a groan of frustration from the boy.

“Draco, you’re precious, and I love you so.”

“Yea, well, I can’t say I feel the same way about you right now.” He wriggled in your grasp as you squeezed his arm.

“Oh come on. I meant no harm, you know that.” Silence overcame you both, allowing you to calm down and settle into the seriousness of his matter.

“Okay, well why don’t we try to make it happen?” His eyebrow quirked at you while you got lost in thought, thinking of a possible plan.

“Do you like anybody?” You finally inquire.

“No.” The firmness in his tone makes you palm your face. The scenario that you’ve come up with shatters into a million pieces in your mind

“Draco, how are we supposed to set this up if you don’t have someone you like?” He shrugged.

“Why does that matter? Can’t I just kiss a random girl I’m attracted to?” You smack his arm.

“Your mother didn’t raise you that way, git.”

“Well I don’t see you kissing anybody! How would you do it?”

“Unlike you, I’m not desperate! Plus, I overhear the girls say that they want their first to be special. It’s supposed to feel like fireworks.” The boy slumps his shoulders, feeling discouraged over your statement. More silence ensues as you take a seat beside him, but his mind is anything but quiet. As your words resound in his thoughts, an idea begins to emerge.

“Hey, Y/N. You say that girls want it to be special, right?” He spoke with a softened tone, which contrasted greatly to the frantic one from earlier on. You nod in response.

“Don’t you think it would be pretty unspecial if the other person sucked at kissing?”

“I suppose so. I think whether it sucks or not depends on how much either party is attracted to each other.”

“I want to be good at it.” His straightforwardness makes you choke on your saliva. In turn, he rolls his eyes and pats your back.

“I’m sorry to break it to you, but I highly doubt that anyone is considered ‘good’ for their first kiss.”

“What if I practiced?” You were about to refute his suggestion until realization began to settle in.

“Draco Malfoy, what is going through that idiotic mind of yours?” Suddenly his eyes, which were once glazed with frustration, look into yours with earnest. You knew exactly what he was thinking.

“No, Draco.”

“Come on, Y/N! We’re best friends, and you did say that a first kiss is supposed to feel like fireworks. I bet we won’t even feel fireworks since we’d only be practicing, so surely that doesn’t count as our first kiss, right?” As much as you wanted to refute, the boy had cunningly twisted your words, leaving you at a loss. He was right, though. The both of you had grown up together, and you were so comfortable with one another that something as simple as a kiss shouldn’t be able to destroy you. Right? Additionally, if fireworks was the actual requirement for a proper first kiss, then any ones that occur before that shouldn’t count. How bad could it be really?

You bit your lip for a moment while Draco looked at you expectantly. When you glanced up to meet his familiar silver eyes, you felt your heart thump. This doesn’t mean anything, so it won’t count. You thought.

“Fine.” Relief filled his features as he scooted closer to you. You could feel your heart rate increasing exponentially when his breath softly brushes against your skin. It’s clear to you that in the spur of the moment, there wasn’t much going on in his head except for the fact that this was merely a practice run.

“How do we do this?” The temptation to smack his face was so strong, but you held yourself back. You sighed instead.

“I think I remember them saying that they like it when you do this.” With your voice soft, you grab his hands and plant them on your cheeks.

“Like this?” He asks. You release a small, ‘mhm’ as you let go of your hold. His grip induces your head to tilt upward, however you do your best to look at anything and everything except his eyes.

“What next?”

“Next, you lean in closer.” The boy stiffly lowers his head, and the warmth of his breath is more apparent now.

“You got to lean in much closer than that, Malfoy.” The sight of your lips reduces him into mush, making him realize that this moment meant more to him than what he had initially planned. Nevertheless, he attempts to close the distance even more.

“Can you, uh, close your eyes?” You take heed to his request. When he ensures that they were shut, he proceeds to lower himself to the point that his lips were practically a hair’s width away from yours. The suspense has your pulse beating against your ears. Nothing in your entire life had prepared you for that very moment.

Suddenly, the fireworks that you didn’t expect to feel erupted within your chest the instant that his lips are on yours. He moves slowly, motions are a bit clumsy, but the feeling remains all the same. It was when you recall that the boy kissing you was indeed your best friend that you knew something was about to change. With your eyes closed, and his hands still on your cheeks, you engrained the feel of his lips in your mind, oblivious to the fact that he was doing the same. It was way better than you had expected it to be--than how you wanted it to be--and you weren’t sure it was because it’s your first time also or if it was because it was him who you were sharing the moment with. Whatever it was, the need for more only increased when he parted from you.

You look into his eyes. They convey an expression that you can’t discern.

“Oh shit.” The words mindlessly spill from your mouth, but Draco’s gaze remains the same. Your face was so warm, you were certain that he had felt too.

“I think,” He starts. His eyes trail from your y/e/c orbs to your lips, “I need more practice.”

The boy starts leaning in once more. This time, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and caresses your neck before placing a long, yet single kiss on you. Silence fills you both when you separate. The hand that was rested on your neck is placed on his lap, while yours remain on your sides.

“Was it good?” He asks. You bit your lip, thinking about what effect your next response will have on your friendship.

“I think we need more practice.”

Part 2

A/N: Hi! Thanks for reading! I want to try my best to milk out any ideas despite my tight schedule. Writing is an escape, and creates balance in my life. With that being said, I hope you liked it. Feedback is very much appreciated!

Tagging:

@beiahadid @hahee154hq @mushi98 @stretchyice @dracosathenaeum @dreaming-about-fanfictions @saby06143 @rottenhexrt @littlethie @amithatemo

If you’d like to be tagged, there’s link to a form on my masterlist :3

#Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy imagines

346 notes · View notes

wickedgamesoyaoya · 3 years

Text

↝ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ: y/n pinning them against a wall - prompt inspired by this twitter post

↝ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ: kuroo x f!reader + sakusa x f!reader

↝ ᴡᴄ: kuroo - 1000+ sakusa - 900+

↝ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: swearing, aggressive behaviour-ish.

↝ ᴀ/ɴ: I’ll be doing this prompt for Osamu, Akaashi and Yaku too soon ~ I just like it a bit too much haha. also I edited this 3 times so if there are still errors, I am sorry pls ignore. lmao.

Kuroo Tetsurou

A low rhythmic hum vibrated inside of your throat, to accompany the track playing from your phone. Those who were fortunate enough to catch the melody trailing along with you, would often find a smile on their face. Between the tranquility of the sound and the bliss warping into your aura – your presence accidentally had an impact on many. Those in your university only knew you as the kind singer who would offer sincere smiles, free of cost. It was a reputation you did not mind adhering to – maybe it was better that they did not see the darker shades that coloured your soul. So, generally, a smile would remain sewn into your visage – unwavering until you were within the safety of your home. Where you could release the other parts of you that were deemed “not school friendly.”

Though, today your calculated barrier between the two worlds would disintegrate, due to the careless words of your best friend, Kuroo Tetsurou.

Upon reaching the corner that would connect you to the hallway where your class room was situated, you plucked out an earbud and placed it back into its case. Since this was a course you shared with Kuroo, the two of you held an uncommunicated agreement to wait for the other before entering the room. The thought of your close friend twisted a knot inside of your chest with threads of adoration, excitement and hope. It was quite clear that your relationship was not merely platonic. The issue was that neither of you had initiated the first step to test the boundaries.

But you would try today. You would try after class.

“So, what’s going on between you and l/n?”

Hearing your last name, you paused before switching hallways. How many other l/n’s were at the university? It was certainly a conversation about you.

So the question was, who was the one posing the question, and who was the one about to answer it?

“We’re just friends.”

Okay. Easy. That was Kuroo.

The nonchalance laced into his answer fueled the flame igniting in the pit of your stomach, yet you continued to conceal your presence from the pair.

“So you don’t mind if I ask her out?”

“It’s not my place to say anything.” Even without a visual, you knew your best friend would have added a shrug to accompany the statement. Somehow, that irritated you more.

Rolling your eyes, you stepped past the corner for your grand reveal. “Hi there, boys. You wouldn’t mind if I borrowed Tetsurou for a second, would you?”

Your sudden emergence had startled Kuroo, but what had his chest constricting was your use of his first name and the hallow laugh that was spilling from your lips.

“Uh, sure…”

It took you a second to realize who the other male was – he was an acquittance of yours, one you shared two classes with. One who was mostly forgettable not due to a lack of charm, but solely because he wasn’t Kuroo.

“Perfect. Thank you.” Curling your fingers around your best friend’s wrist, you dragged him down the hallway, not caring for the confused glances thrown into your direction by those around you. When you reached the area between the staircase and corridor, you gently pushed him against the wall before placing both of your palms on either side of him.

He opened his mouth to speak, but you were quick to drown out his voice with your own.

“No. You don’t get to do that. Just friends? That’s bullshit.” The concoction of emotions weaving into your bloodstream had given you a headrush. But at the center of the varying feelings was fear. Because you wanted more than a friendship, and you were about to risk your entire relationship for that desire. You tried to suppress it, but over time it became overwhelming. And now – his words had awoken something inside of you. Something you could not contain.

The black-haired male blinked down at you, his irises moving from your arms walling him in, to the death glare your eyes were partaking in. “Isn’t that what we are, y/n? Friends?”

Out of the options available to him, Kuroo had selected the one for a coward. Or perhaps, he was testing you. Either way, your irritation with him had increased tenfold.

“Fuck you.” Lowering your hands on either side, you stepped away from him before turning back into the direction of your class.

“I wasn’t done yet.” A sigh left his mouth as he caught your wrist with his hand, tugging you towards him. Once your back aligned with his chest, he repositioned his arms to curl around your stomach. Heat spread throughout your entire body, and you were unsure whether it was from your anger or due to his close proximity. “We are friends, y/n. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be more. You’re right, it is bullshit. But I can’t exactly go around telling everyone in the school that I’m in love with you, now can I?” Feeling you become incredibly still in his arms, he chuckled softly, pressing a kiss against your head. “But if I had known you would get that pissed off so easily, I would have said something stupid earlier. Because pinning me against the wall – that was hot.”

“Shut up.” Breaking away from his hold, you spun around to face him. A half smirk was tugging at his lips, one that communicated how much he enjoyed the situation. “You are horrible. What would you have done if that guy asked me out and I said yes? Hm?”

“I’d probably cry and then say on to the next one!” To further instigate you, he dipped an eyelid into a wink.

“Really. Horrible.” With your passion deflating, exhaustion crept into your muscles, bringing a groan to sound. “Let’s just get to class.”

“Nuh huh. We can ditch one class. Plus, you still haven’t said it back.” Tilting his head, he proceeded a step forward to close the distance once more. He then tapped on your chin, allowing your gazes to connect.

Inhaling a deep breath, a faint smile was presented towards him.

“I love you too, idi-.”

The remaining half of the insult did not leave your mouth, rather it was replaced with a muffled protest as Kuroo gently caught your lips with his. As you tried to break the exchange, he tangled his fingers in your hair, keeping you secure against him, before mumbling.

“That’s boyfriend to you.”

Sakusa Kiyoomi

The repetitive interaction between the laminated flooring and the leather training balls had resulted in a dull ache in your temples. As the manager of a professional volleyball team, you were well accustomed to the noise but today, your patience was running thin. Practice had officially ended two hours ago, and yet your boyfriend, Sakusa Kiyoomi continued fine-tuning his serves. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you scanned the male for any indication of exhaustion – something you would have capitalized on, in order to reason with him. Except the outside hitter’s reserve of energy was far from being depleted. It often surprised you how resilient he was, he certainly did not have Bokuto or Hinata’s stamina, but that did not keep him from pursuing his goals. Whenever he would discover a new technique or target, he would work on it relentlessly. It was an admirable trait, one that made him one of the best players you had ever seen.

And let it be known, supporting him was always your intention. But at the moment, you were passing your own limits and remaining calm and composed was not an option. Between the throbbing on either side of your head and the acids chewing away at your stomach lining from hunger, you were seconds from raiding Bokuto’s secret snack stash.

“Omi, you’re done. Go take a shower.” After swapping your clipboard for a towel, you proceeded across the court, before offering it out to him.

The outside hitter stared at you in response, indicating that he heard your commands but was electing to ignore them. Returning his attention to the volleyball within his grasp, he began prepping for another serve. A sigh mixed with a growl rattled inside of your throat as you twisted the towel in frustration. When the ball landed on the opposite side of the court, an eerie grin stretched onto your mouth.

“Omi. You little shit.”

With each step you took forward, Sakusa intuitively took one step back until his back was met with the padding attached to the wall. You were quite aware of your height difference, although that did not matter. You planted your hands on either side of him, purposefully caging him in. Knitting his brows together, confusion swam in his dark irises.

“What are you doing?”

“What are you doing? I’m not asking you to finish up. I’m telling you. We finished practice two hours ago, and I am starving. If you do not go into there and take a shower this instant, I will not be responsible for what happens to you. You know what they say – you’re not yourself when you’re hungry.” After gesturing to the locker room with your head, you squinted at him, attempting to seem menacing. However, you were only met with amusement.

“Are you saying you will eat me?” The question had Sakusa battling a smile. Was he really supposed to find that scary?

“We both know someone like you would taste delicious, so I’m not saying that isn’t a possibility.” Maintaining a deadpan expression while spouting nonsense was not a task for the weak – but after having countless conversations with actual idiots, you had mastered it. You would not provide your boyfriend any satisfaction.

“Okay. I’ll go.” His admittance of defeat was joined with the raise of his eyebrow, communicating that he expected you to “release him” now. You were about to comply with the silent request when he dipped down and placed a fleeting kiss onto your mouth. The sudden display of affection had erupted a volcano of butteries inside your stomach.

“What the …”

Leaving you there baffled, the MSBY player slipped past your defenses, smiling to himself.

Two could play at this game.

Later that night:

After gifting you an apology meal at your favourite fast-food joint, you both elected to walk home rather than taking a taxi. His fingers were intertwined with yours loosely, and since the streets were mostly abandoned, he had removed his mask, permitting his lungs unrestricted access to the fresh air. Now that your mood had elevated significantly after satisfying your human needs, you were ready to question your boyfriend on what occurred earlier inside of the arena.

“So, why’d you kiss me?” Kissing was generally an activity he preferred to engage in after showering. And therefore, you were puzzled by his recent actions.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Shifting his gaze to the row of streetlamps that framed the sidewalk, he lifted his shoulders into a shrug.

“You liked that I threatened you, didn’t you?” A gentle laugh danced past your lips as you shook your head. That seemed to be the only explanation you could think of in the moment.

“No. You looked cute trying to seem scary.” He joined his retort with a scoff, although it was evident, he was suppressing any physical indication of joy.

“I am scary!” Resisting your urge to pout, you squished his hand to reinforce your statement.

“Yeah, sure you are.” Refusing to bestow upon you his full attention, his eyes travelled to the sky above. While he would not vocalize it, he found most of your antics to be ridiculously adorable. It was what he loved about you. And there was no denying that you could certainly scare others when deprived of food – but not him.

“I will eat you. Don’t tempt me.” A small pout forced its way to your lips to display your mild annoyance. Though, the emotion was easily defeated when Sakusa in a quick swoop, stole another kiss. This time, however, he lingered, enjoying the taste of your lips.

It turned out that maybe his rules around kissing required some amending. Because he wanted to kiss you, whether or not some of his pre-conditions were met. Guess that was a consequence of being in love.

Once he pulled away, he exhaled a chortle.

“Yeah? I’m looking forward to it.”

General taglist: @haikyuufairy @newfriendjen @lvoejimin @moonlightaangel @gyozaaaaa @byun-nies @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @amberalisa @graykageyama @yourstarvic @chaichai-the-weeb @chibishae34 @haikyuusimp91 @volleybloop @rajablast @idiot-juice-enthusiast @melonmayhere @cuddlesslut @athenarosaline @memes-and-money @coconut-dreamz @elianetsantana @tsumume @tsukkismamagucci @the-golden-jhope @camcam1617 @elephantloser @dreamstormings @anejuuuuoy @fantasycantasy @aquariarose @bloody-bella

#kuroo x you #kuroo x reader #kuroo x y/n #sakusa x you #sakusa x reader #sakusa x y/n #kuroo tetsuro imagine #sakusa imagines

162 notes · View notes

seokmingiggles · 3 years

Text

black currant.

Pairing: Vernon Chwe x gender neutral reader

Genre: fluff, mutual crushes.

1.03k words

No warnings.

Continuing the tradition of stargazing with your best friend always feels magical—perhaps, it’s because of his gleaming presence that competes with the shining atmosphere.

Alternatively, you and Vernon realize you’re not much different than the stars above, which you watch with such admiration.

A/N: I was stumped for a while trying to figure out how to write Vernon until somehow, 1k words of pure fluff just burst from my fingers onto the keys. This drabble ended up being one of my favourites from the Teacup collection. I hope you enjoy it too!

Back to the teacup masterlist.

•• The wisps of his exhale twist and twirl in the moonlight, tracing a picture in front of his face before receding into nothingness.

"Do you want to go back inside?"

"No," you say with your gaze to the sky, "I like watching the stars."

Vernon chuckles out, "Alright," and takes a spot by your side, reclining into the cushioned blanket spread out beneath you.

You and your childhood friend have been enjoying the view of the sun setting over the city. It's been a tradition every once in a while since the two of you were kids. Now, you have the added lift from his apartment on the eighth floor in his building, allowing you to feel that much closer to the spiralling galaxies above. Vernon's balcony is the perfect size to arrange a comfy assortment of blankets for a cozy summer night. One take-out dinner later, you find yourself still outside. The temperature is comfortable enough, even with the lack of sunlight. Vernon had gone inside to dispose of the styrofoam packaging but has returned, now sitting by your side.

The sky is still slightly illuminated; the sun has set only about fifteen minutes ago, allowing the horizon to remain painted in a pretty coral and dark tangerine, transitioning into a deeper blue from way above. Yet, the moon is already visible from afar—a soft crescent sitting atop the distant mountains.

Vernon remains silent, not sure if speaking will distract you from whatever it is you're observing above.

Yet, you're the one to first speak through the silence: "Do you ever wonder what it would be like to live amongst the stars?"

Your gaze remains to the heavens, but Vernon's eyes gloss over your face.

"What would that be like?" you continue, voice hushed to match the peacefulness of outside. "I'm sure the view up there would be breathtaking."

A small smile forms on the boy's features while he observes your wonder-filled expression. "I'm sure it would be—beautiful, probably."

"Yeah," you agree in a whisper.

You can see the blinking light of an airplane soaring above, questioning where it's going, where it's been. Or, perhaps, it's not a plane but a satellite doing its programmed route over the Earth. Either way, your eyes follow the twinkling movement as it passes by.

"Do you believe we come from the stars?"

Vernon has now situated himself on his back to look upwards where your eyes are so intensely trained.

"What do you mean?" the boy asks; his gaze bounces between all of the flickering stars slowly emerging in the gradually-darkening sky.

"The elements—the components that make up a star—they're found within our bodies, too."

"No way," Vernon whispers, a new perspective blooming in his mind about the little fiery orbs in the far distance. Well, they wouldn't look little up close, the boy considers, but they do look small in the wide expanse of the sky.

He concludes that he mustn't be much different from the stars above—regarding matter, at least. But more importantly, Vernon settles that you are practically a galaxy; celestial is a word he'd pick to describe you in this very moment.

"Yeah," you finally pull your gaze from above to look at the boy next to you, although now, he's fixated on examining the atmosphere. You add, "It's not just us, but all life on Earth; all organic material. It's all got the same chemistry as stars."

"That's incredible."

"Right?"

Vernon hums, basking in the view of the sky. "So," he muses, "earlier, when you asked about what it would be like to live among the stars," he pauses, contemplating his words, "aren't we already doing that?"

When your friend turns his head to the side to meet your eyes, you swear you can see all of the constellations in his irises at that moment.

He really is made of stars, you think. Though instead, you say, "Yes," with a growing smile. "That makes me happy to think about."

The sky is now a dusty charcoal: the colour of black currant tea leaves. The sun has disappeared entirely now; the deeper blue hue from earlier has since taken over, washing everything above the horizon in its gradient. The moon seems to shine brighter than before.

The evening breeze begins to blow between your and Vernon's bodies; goosebumps tingle across your bare arms and raise the little hairs on the back of your neck, tingling your spine in the process.

"Are you cold?" the boy next to you asks.

"A little bit," you respond truthfully, "but I'm still not ready to head back inside yet."

"I can go and grab another blanket?"

"No, it's okay," you swallow the lump forming in your throat. "Maybe, instead, I could..."

You don't finish your sentence and instead, shuffle slightly closer to Vernon.

The boy is stunned for a moment at your sudden proximity but relaxes his body when he feels your radiating warmness.

Your arms are now brushing against each other with fingertips touching ever-so-slightly.

The silent night atmosphere is all that fills your reddening ears when you feel Vernon slowly take hold of your hand and clasp his fingers around yours.

His hand feels soft. It's the slightest bit clammy, but not excessively. And even if it was, you're sure your attention would be stuck on the thrumming of your heartbeat in your ears, as it is now.

"Is this okay?" the boy asks, squeezing your hand slightly tighter at his question.

"Y-yeah," the way your voice stutters embarrasses you. You clear your throat and squeeze his hand back, "It's okay."

The two of you continue to stare up at the sky and its expanse of bright stars. Some unspoken emotion is thick in the air, fluttering across the balcony; it's an unsaid agreement of sorts. Perhaps it's a consensus where something is lying beneath the surface; perhaps it's reciprocated feelings that are too scared to bubble up—to pop and fizzle and explode like a firework bursting with a million colours and then some.

Or perhaps, it's that the two of you, right now, are stars—similar to the ones which you find yourselves gazing at so fondly.

••

148 notes · View notes

mysticalcherryqueen · 2 years

Text

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Unfortunately for you, you caught the flu. Don’t worry though, your sweet boyfriend Bucky is ready to wait on you hand and foot. Maybe being sick isn’t such a bad thing.

Warnings: Mainly fluff, but there is some implied smut. Swearing??? I don’t know what else, have fun!

Bless You

You were supposed to be at the movies right now with your friends.

Supposed to.

Instead of eating popcorn, waiting for the movie to start, you're laying on your couch with three warm blankets draped over you. And it’s all his fault.

You glare at your 6’4 boyfriend’s back as he stands over the stove making you a vegetable soup.

As you lay there you replay the events of what happened earlier that morning.

The moment you woke up you knew you were sick. Your nose was stuffy, you kept coughing and over all you just felt like complete shit.

But you couldn’t miss this hangout with your friends. Every time you guys planned something it got canceled because somebody would have a sudden emergency. Half the time that somebody was you. Either you were forced to work overtime because of your stupid boss or you had appointments or chores to do that where put off because of your job.

You hadn’t seen your friends in weeks and you weren’t going to let a little sneezing and coughing get in your way.

That’s what you thought.

You had woken up before Bucky and quickly, but quietly ran to the bathroom, making sure not to wake him. There you took any medicine you could find before heading into the shower to get ready for your day. You had to go about your regular morning routine as if nothing was wrong.

Like any normal day you did your hair and got dressed while Bucky sat on the bed and watched. You teased him from time to time by shaking your ass as you searched through your underwear drawer. A few moments later Bucky was up and ready for the day.

As you two were leaving your bedroom, Bucky smacked your ass.

“Don’t be a tease unless you wanna get punished.” He whispered in your ear as he slid past you and made his way to the kitchen.

The two of you had then sat together on the couch, eating your pancakes as you watched the latest episode of your favourite show. You were planning to leave after you finished the episode.

So far he hadn’t noticed anything off.

Or so you thought.

The entire morning Bucky felt as if something was wrong. You kept turning away from him when you guys were in the kitchen cooking, not quite coughing, but as if you were quietly trying to clear your throat. Then he heard your small sniffles while watching tv, which he wouldn’t have been able to hear if it wasn’t for his enhanced hearing. At first he thought you were crying, but when he looked over at you, you weren’t.

But the thing that gave you away for certain is when you never gave him his morning kiss. You always give him his morning kiss if you wake up before him, as he did the same for you. But you didn’t, in fact when he tried to kiss you while making breakfast you moved away from him.

He sighed before reaching for the remote and pausing the show. You turned to look at him, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What's wrong?” You asked him.

“I should be asking you that. You didn’t give me my morning kiss.” He wore a slight pout as he said this.

You realize that you’ve been avoiding being close to him in fear of getting him sick and him finding out.

“Did I do something wrong?”

His question shocked you. Bucky looked so hurt staring down, unable to even meet your gaze.

“No, no! Of course not!” You rushed out, trying to convince him. You reached your hand out to touch his cheek and make him look into your eyes. To show him it wasn’t a lie.

He reaches out and places his hand on your cheek as well. You relax into his familiar and comforting touch.

“Then what is.” He stops himself, a perplexed expression spreading across his face.

“Y/N, you’re burning up.”

You back away from his touch, jumping up from the couch, but it’s too late as you see the realization on his face.

“You’re sick.” He says, but it comes out more as a question.

“No.” You say too fast.

And then you sneeze. Damn it!

You both stare at each other with blank faces.

“Bless you.” Your face flushes as you look down, muttering out a small thank you.

“Doll, I don’t get it. Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

You slump back down into the couch as a full on pout sets on your face. “Because I know you’re going to make me stay home and I really want to see my friends.”

You couldn’t cancel on them again. You were starting to feel like a terrible friend and person. Letting out a deep sigh you finally share your insecurities that have been weighing you down for the past while.

“I can’t cancel on them again, Buck. Every time I do they refuse to hangout with each other if it won’t be all of us together. It just makes me feel worse though. Not only am I bailing on them, but stopping them from hanging out.”

Bucky reaches for you, wrapping you into a side hug. He places a small, gentle kiss on your forehead, comfortingly rubbing his hand up and down your arm.

“Oh, doll, you can’t help it when something comes up, especially if you get sick. How could you possibly blame yourself for it?”

“But then”

“And if they choose not to hangout without you,” He interrupts you. “Well then that's their decision.”

You sigh. “I know, I know.” You knew he was right. You knew it was never really your fault, you just needed someone to tell you that, to reassure you and to silence your pessimistic thoughts.

The next thing you know you’re being kissed. It takes you completely off guard and you feel a warm, vibrant sensation spread across your entire body. You feel yourself melt and for a moment, just a moment, you feel better, as if you didn’t wake up this morning with a pounding headache and snot dripping from your nose.

The kiss leaves you absolutely breathless and yearning for more. You open your eyes to find Bucky already staring at you.

“That was my morning kiss.”

“Buck, you’re gonna get sick.” You giggle.

“Please, I’m a super soldier. It’ll take more than a little kiss to get me sick.”

With that being said Bucky rises from his seat and storms into the bedroom as if he was on one of his missions. He comes back a minute later carrying three large fluffy blankets and two pillows.

“You’re going to rest while I make you some soup.” He says as he lays the pillows down before he gently lays you down, draping the blankets over you.

“Buck, I can’t, I’ve gotta go soon.” You say trying to sit up, but Bucky’s hand is already on your shoulder, stopping your movements.

“No no no. You’re not going anywhere.”

You try giving him your best puppy dog eyes, but to no avail. He takes your phone from the coffee table and calls one of your friends.

“Hey, sorry, but Y/N won’t be able to make it today.” He said as he maneuvers himself away from you and your grabbing hands.

“Bucky!” You whined.

Ignoring you he continued his conversation. “What? Oh, no! That wasn’t a moan!” He exclaimed.

You stop realizing what your friend thought you were bailing on them for. Your entire face heats up and you look down embarrassed. You snap out of your thoughts when you hear Bucky yelling.

“I don’t always have her to myself! I’m not fucking her! Please if I was fucking her you would hear-.”

You snatch the phone from your fuming boyfriend and explain to your friend that you’re just sick and not having sex with your boyfriend.

“No, really. It’s just a fever, I’ll be fine. Okay. Thanks, bye.” You hang up and lay back down with a plop.

You’re about to start complaining about how you’re feeling better and how you could’ve gone, when you sneeze.

“Bless you.” Bucky signed out with a knowing smirk.

You reach behind you and throw one of the pillows at him, smacking him right in his face. He laughs as he throws it back at you and starts towards the kitchen.

A small smile grace’s your face as you hug the pillow tightly to your chest. You whisper out a small thank you as you fall into a deep sleep.

You wake up about half an hour later and see Bucky in the kitchen. He’s pouring the soup into a bowl when you speak up.

“That smells delicious.” You close your eyes and breath in the warm calming scent.

Bucky heads to you, soup in hand. “Much better than eating popcorn that gets stuck in your teeth.” He teases.

You take a spoonful of the soup and sigh at the flavours that spread across your tongue. Bucky places a gentle kiss on your forehead before fully standing up.

“You just get better doll. I’m here to take care of you.”

Then there’s a sneeze. Only this time it isn’t from you.

You look up at Bucky with a cheeky smile on your face. “Bless you.” You tease.

10 notes · View notes

teshamerkel · 3 years

Photo

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

[Chapter 21] (32 Pages)

<< First | < Previous | Next >

Tobias and Nia make the journey to Ghatha!

“Are we getting close?”

Tobias swallows back an annoyed growl, trying to keep his temper under control. He will not snap at his partner. Or light her on fire. “For the fourth time, Nia, we’re almost there. Stop asking before I turn us around.”

The riolu shrinks into herself with a sheepish smile. “S-Sorry. I’m just excited.”

Tobias doesn’t answer, hoping Nia will finally fall silent and let them walk through the forest in peace and quiet. He doesn’t mind going on this trip to Ghatha, and although he’d never admit it, he isn’t even that annoyed by Nia’s presence anymore. Most of the time.

But by Entei’s fire, Tobias has his limits. There’s only so much excited rambling he can handle in one short walk to the flight outpost.

“O-Okay, actually important question.”

“Hm.”

“Should I eat before we fly? Or, uh...”

Tobias finally cracks a grin. “Or are you gonna barf your brains out? Dunno. Guess we’ll see.”

Nia‘s nose scrunches up at the mental image. “You sound a little too happy about this.”

“I will definitely laugh if you puke.”

She shoots him a playful glare, so Tobias adds, “If you want an actual answer, I wouldn’t eat before we go up. If you’re fine flying then you can eat on the way there. If not, then we won’t immediately tick off our ride by puking all over ’em.”

Nia fidgets nervously with the strap of the satchel thrown over her shoulder. “That makes sense. I’d like to be on good terms with the Pokémon carrying us 10,000 feet in the air.”

There are a few minutes of quiet after that, and Tobias takes advantage of them to enjoy the cool morning air. Dawn sunlight is filtering through the trees of the forest, clearing away the chilly fog of the night. He notices that the green leaves overhead are starting to shift to gold, catching the morning rays. It really is going to be fall soon.

“Are you nervous?” Nia asks. “About flying?”

Tobias mourns the loss of silence with a sigh. “You do know my final evolution is half flying, right?”

“Well, yes, but that doesn’t mean you can fly now. So I just wondered. Have you ever flown before?”

For a heartbeat, memories slip by before Tobias can stop them. Vivid snapshots of sitting atop a broad orange back, wings spread endlessly wide on either side of him. His hands, much smaller, clutching tight to warm scales, the blue sky seeming to go on forever in all directions, the wind whistling by and stealing away his laughter.

Tobias shoves the memory from his mind, holds his breath until he knows it won’t shake. Keeps his eyes glued to the foliage around them. Eventually, he manages to say, “I’ve been flying before. A long time ago.”

Maybe Nia can hear the lump in his throat, because she falls silent with a tiny, “Oh.”

They continue on, Tobias focusing his senses on the world around them to distract himself from the memories suddenly trying to rise up and choke him. His heart twists inside his chest, and it takes everything in him to blink back rising tears.

The trio. The outlaws. Focus on them, on taking them down. Focus on what he needs to do.

“Is that it?”

Tobias snaps out of his musings to look up, and sure enough, the outpost is in sight. It’s still halfway hidden by the trees and undergrowth, a lanky structure of white-painted wood, but it’s definitely what Maggie pointed out to him from the mail floor, years ago.

A quiet rabble of voices meet them as they get closer. Calm conversation, occasional laughter. The two of them emerge into a small clearing, and there it is: a tower reaching almost too high up to see the top. Roosts of moss and hay and twigs are haphazardly wedged here and there throughout the structure, and flying Pokémon of all kinds flit about. Some are napping, others chatting, and a few are on the grass, talking with clients.

“Wow,” Nia breathes, eyes wide with wonder.

A talonflame is the first to notice them, and glides down to meet them with a respectful dip of his head. “Greetings. Looking for a lift?”

Tobias nods. “We’re guild members under August. We need a ride to Ghatha.”

The talonflame tilts his bright head, humming thoughtfully. “I don’t take on distances that far, especially with fighting types on-board. But I think I know who can give you a lift. Wait here.”

The fire type beats at the ground and lifts off again, flying high into the roost. Nia follows him with her eyes, brow furrowed.

“Fighting types can be squirmy in the air, and talonflame are already lightweights,” Tobias explains, snorting. “Don’t look so offended.”

Nia’s troubled expression clears, and she gives him a thankful nod for the explanation.

A large, winged silhouette takes off from one of the perches, circling down to land before the two of them in a gust of wind. A braviary. She’s huge, easily four times the size of Tobias and Nia, with navy and crimson feathers and a soft mane of white. She’s clearly a sturdy Pokémon, with a few scars visible on her body, cutting irregular patterns through her feathers. Most startling of all is the closed, puckered skin over where her right eye should be, a thick scar running across the area and cutting into her beak. A bright yellow designated flyer’s scarf is tied around her leg. To say she’s impressive-looking would be an understatement.

“Hey there, folks! Name’s Felicity,” the braviary chirps, her voice bright and sharp. “But y’all can just call me Fliss. I hear you two are hoping for a ride to Ghatha.”

Nia looks as awed as Tobias feels by the flying type’s presence. “Y-Yes, ma’am!”

Fliss laughs, loud and hearty. “You sure look spunky for a fighting type at the outpost. You ever flown before?”

Nia opens her mouth to respond, then pauses, a distant confusion glossing over her expression. Tobias has seen that look before. Are her memories acting up again?

He’s about to cut in when the riolu blinks back to the present, hesitantly answering, “U-Uh. No? I-I don’t think I have, at least.”

Fliss gives Nia a curious look but doesn’t push, instead giving the riolu a firm nod. “Well, I’ll do my best to keep it a smooth flight. Since you’re both small, it’ll only be 400 poke for a one-way trip. Discount since you’re in the guild.”

Tobias nods and gestures for Nia to let him rummage around in their satchel. When he pulls out their team poke pouch, Nia pulls out her own personal bag as well. She grabs 200 poke, handing it to him and answering his questioning frown with a small smile and a shrug. “I’m the one who wanted to go on this trip in the first place—it only seems fair that I pay a little extra from my own cash.”

Tobias doesn’t argue, accepting the poke and gathering it with the other 200 from their team earnings. Fliss holds out her leg, and he dumps the coins into a thick pouch strapped securely to her foot, which she ties shut with her beak.

“Great! You two ready to set off?”

Tobias and Nia nod, and the braviary crouches down low, belly to the grass and wings spread wide to help them get on her back.

Nia freezes, wide-eyed. “W-Wait, there aren’t like, safety harnesses or something? S-Seatbelts?”

Tobias rolls his eyes as Fliss guffaws. “Don’t be silly! We wouldn’t be flying grounders around if we weren’t confident in our ability to keep ‘em safe.”

“But what if we f-fall?”

“Then I’ll catch you,” Fliss replies simply. “Look, hun, what’s your name?”

“N-Nia.”

“Look, Nia. I’ve flown all over the world, and I’ve taken a lot of passengers along with me. Haven’t dropped a single one—promise.”

The riolu still doesn’t look convinced, and Tobias groans. “Arceus, would you just get on? Pokémon do this every day!”

“And the winds are in our favor today, too,” Fliss adds, motioning Nia forward.

The riolu steps up to the braviary’s side, and then uses the offered wing as a boost to climb onto Fliss’s back. Nia sits, paws hesitantly holding onto her feathers. “A-Am I hurting you?”

Fliss laughs, making the riolu jump. “You’re light as a feather. Feel free to hold on tighter if you need to, I’ve been through worse.” Then she turns her gaze to Tobias. “Up ya go. What’s your name?”

“Tobias,” the charmander replies, watching Nia as she fidgets. “Where should I sit?”

“Probably in front, so the little fighter’ll have something to hold onto.”

Right, that makes sense--even if he really doesn’t want her clinging to him the whole flight. Tobias climbs up the braviary’s back and plops down in front of Nia, carefully setting his legs on either side of Fliss’s feathery shoulders and letting his tail curl over his leg.

“Hold on tight to my feathers, now!” Fliss calls. “Riolu, if you get scared just hold on tight to your partner.”

“Or don’t,” Tobias mumbles under his breath.

“I-I think I’ll be okay just holding on,” Nia says, voice high and unconvincing.

“Suit yourself! We’re taking off, so if you need me, tap my back three times!”

And with that, Fliss beats her wings hard, powerful gusts of wind tearing at the grass and billowing out in all directions. Slowly, they rise up, and Nia squeaks from behind Tobias.

Tobias can’t help a sudden burst of excitement. He watches eagerly as the forest sinks around them and they rise higher and higher, above the treeline, into bright morning sky. It’s windier up here, a little more chilly.

It feels like freedom.

The wind smells fresh and whistles past them as they gain altitude, fluttering his scarf and Fliss’ feathers. The world stretches out around them, all at once remarkably small and endlessly large. There’s forest as far as the eye can see, making up Bethoc’s Haven. Tobias laughs, unable to contain the giddy feeling in his gut. He’d forgotten how exhilarating it was to be in the sky like this. To fly.

“All right! Hang on, kiddos—we’re off!”

Tobias grips the braviary’s feathers and grins, thrilled as Fliss snaps out her wings and catches an air current. They shoot forward, picking up speed in an instant.

Nia screams, and then there’s a pair of arms locked around the Tobias’ middle, squeezing the life out of him. Tobias chokes, immediately moving to pry the riolu’s wrists away. A quiet whimper stops him, buried in his shoulder and just loud enough to be heard.

The snarl dies in Tobias’ throat as he hesitates. He doesn’t want Nia pressed so uncomfortably close, arms determined to cut off his breathing, but…he also hasn’t heard her this scared in a while. Plus, shoving her off would probably break the unspoken rules of their Tobias Not Being a Jerk team agreement, so. He sighs, resigning himself to this embarrassing situation and forcing his body to relax.

At least the sights are a distraction. The view really is gorgeous, an expansive sea of forest, leaves just starting to turn from green to warmer shades for the fall. The day is bright and brisk: perfect flying weather. Tobias feels a bittersweet tug in his chest, but tips his head back to enjoy the wind and sun on his face with a content smile.

After a few minutes, Tobias peers over his shoulder, only able to see the top of Nia’s head, her ears still pinned flat to her skull.

“Hey,” he calls.

She doesn’t answer, but the hold around his torso tightens.

“It’ll help if you look around.”

The riolu shakes her head against his shoulder, a muffled, “No!” barely reaching his ears.

Tobias rolls his eyes at the childish response. He knows that fighting types tend to have problems with heights and flying, but this is just ridiculous. He is not going to have this flight ruined by Nia cowering in terror and slowly cracking his ribs.

Plus, this is too beautiful a view to miss.

“Just try looking around.”

Nia whines again. “Why?”

“Because we have three more hours of this and I’m pretty sure you’re trying to suffocate me.”

Nia manages to loosen her hold, just a bit. Tobias can breathe again, but the riolu is still quivering, face tucked away.

“Nia.”

“No! I’m n-not looking!”

“Just look up! Don’t look down, idiot, that’ll make anyone’s stomach jump.” Nia doesn’t respond. Tobias peeks back at her again. “Okay, what’s it gonna take for you to look.”

“Take me back to solid ground!”

Despite his frustration, Tobias snorts a laugh. “Too bad, pick something else.” No response. Stubborn. What would entice her enough to surpass her fear? “I’ll, uh…Tell you about the landmarks we pass if you look. You mentioned wanting to know more about geography or something, right?”

Nia shifts against his shoulder, hesitant but clearly interested.

“You’re such a nerd,” Tobias snorts.

“I-I like learning stuff,” she defends. At least, that’s what he thinks she said. It’s hard to properly hear anything up here.

“Well, you have to look for me to teach you, otherwise you won’t know what I’m talking about.”

Nia slowly lifts her head, still tucked close to his shoulder with her eyes squeezed shut. A few seconds pass.

“We’re gonna land in Ghatha before you open your eyes.”

“J-Just give me a sec.”

“Look up first, not down.”

Tobias can feel the riolu take a deep breath. Then, she cracks her eyes open, looking up into open blue sky. He watches as the riolu blinks, then lets her eyes open a bit more, squinting ever-so-slightly against the wind. Good.

“Still alive,” he teases.

“S-So far,” Nia shoots back.

Tobias moves his gaze away, to the forest underneath them. Even without looking straight down, there’s a huge chunk of the region visible. Mostly trees for now, a few fields and clearings, but a set of mountains can be seen faintly in the distance.

“Try looking forward,” he suggests.

“Y-You sure?”

He shrugs, the movement odd with the weight of the riolu still wrapped around him like a scarf. “Gotta do it eventually.”

The riolu seems uncertain, but takes another deep, bracing breath. Her ruby eyes flick a degree down from the sky overhead, looking forward as they fly. For a moment, her expression drops into something awestruck, and Tobias almost smiles.

Then she shrieks a terrified sound, and is back to burying her face into his shoulder.

Tobias groans. “C’mon!”

“J-Just give me a bit, o-okay? I...I’ll try again in a bit.”

Tobias huffs an irritated breath, disappointed. How can Nia not love this view, this feeling of freedom and speed? It’s so soothing being up in the air like this, effortlessly gliding over miles of woodland that would take them hours—days, even—to cross on foot. The brightening sky is slowly changing the hue of the treetops below them, cooler grays coming alive with color, and there’s just something hypnotic about the gentle dip and rise of Fliss’ flying, the slight shifts between air currents. He almost feels like he’s in a trance, with the heat of the rising sun and the balancing bite of the wind, Nia a warm weight against his back. Tobias could probably fall asleep up here, if he tried.

After a while, the fuzzy silhouettes of the mountain range become more visible, fading into existence as towering peaks of white, their tops cloaked in eternal snowstorms. Even the winds feel colder as they fly on a current slightly closer to the mountains, though they’re still a great many miles away.

“You can kinda see the Silenfroar mountain range from here,“ Tobias says, far too casually. “We’re passing by right now.”

Nia’s curiosity is too much for her, and she tentatively lifts her head to peek over Tobias’ shoulder.

“To the left.”

Nia follows his instruction, and all at once he sees amazement take over the fear. She unfolds, ears pricking up, head lifting, the hold around his gut loosening until she’s lightly gripping his sides.

Tobias can’t help it—no one can see him up here anyways. He grins, gazing at the mountains as well. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“They’re beautiful!”

“There’s a village on top of those mountains!” Fliss shouts over her shoulder, catching their attention. “I hear they aren’t fond of outsiders, so I’ve never been there myself!”

“August trained up there for a while!” Tobias yells back. Maggie had mentioned it once or twice, quoting it from the rillaboom’s younger days. Apparently the treacherous Silenfroar settlement is infamous for being an incredibly challenging training ground—or so August says. “He’s still on good terms with ‘em, from what I hear.”

“Whoa,” Nia murmurs, still mesmerized by the intimidating mountain peaks.

Tobias shifts his own gaze down to look at the landscape below them. The trees are starting to thin out a bit, meaning that they should be hitting the Bethoc Bluffs and the Obsidian Sea relatively soon. Tobias is nervous about crossing the stretch of open ocean between them and Ghatha, but Fliss seems strong—

A tiny eep! of fear is Tobias’ only warning before Nia grabs him in another death-hug, crushing the breath out of him.

“Arceus, Nia, give me some warning!” Tobias wheezes, pulling her arms a bit looser. She’s stronger than she looks. “Is this how you’re gonna be the whole way?”

“N-No, it’s getting better! J-Just, uh. Slowly.”

Tobias rolls his eyes and focuses back on the flight, determined to enjoy the peaceful feeling of it all. As they fly, the landscape transitions from forest to rocky pines as they near the edge of the region. They pass several different settlements and tiny villages along the way, the homes and Pokemon living there barely visible from their height. Some are set up in clearings, quaint little homes and businesses clustered close together, and some are nearly hidden by leafy treetops, a bit more spaced apart.

Tobias has traveled to villages like those in the past, he thinks, with Maggie. Usually to treat a severely ill Pokémon or purchase rare herbs. He can’t really recall much about those trips, and certainly not any of the tiny towns’ names. Fliss, however, seems to know them by heart. She calls out each village’s name as they soar over them.

Nia leans forward to hear the braviary better as she speaks, hanging onto every windswept word. After the second or third village, Nia leans back, tightens her grip on Tobias, and cranes her neck to catch a glimpse of the town below. She retreats almost immediately, and Tobias isn’t sure whether to encourage her or make fun of her, so he settles for both.

“Wow, don’t get too adventurous,” he drawls.

Nia gives him a powerful squeeze in retaliation that makes him cough.

From there, the flight is quiet and uneventful, Nia’s face once again hidden in Tobias’ shoulder as the charmander enjoys the wind whipping past them. He doesn’t speak again until he can finally see the glitter of the ocean on the horizon, meaning they’re almost to the bluffs, where the region drops off into the sea.

He taps Nia’s arm to get her attention. “Ever been to the ocean?”

There’s a moment of thoughtful silence, and then, “I-I...don’t think so? I don’t remember seeing the ocean, at least.”

“Now’s your chance.”

That catches Nia’s attention. Slowly, the riolu peers over Tobias’ shoulder. Then she gasps and straightens up, ruby eyes blown wide with wonder. The ocean and the scraggly cliffs of the seaside are coming at them fast.

“Beautiful, ain’t it?” Fliss calls. “That’s the Obsidian sea! We’ll be flying over it for another hour or so before hitting Ghatha.”

Tobias isn’t particularly fond of the sea himself, for obvious reasons, but he does have to admit that it’s pretty to look at. And the salty air smells nice.

To Tobias’ surprise, Nia stays where she is, watching with open awe. She doesn’t even flinch as they finally meet where the water touches the cliffs, Fliss’ wings carrying them out over open waves. The water is dark with slices of white waves, choppy ripples reflecting pieces of the sky. The braviary’s flight levels out into a gentle glide, and she slowly lowers them closer to the water until they can see their own reflected shadow speeding across the waves.

Tobias holds on tighter to Fliss’ feathers and brings his legs up higher, feeling a pang of fear in his gut. If something were to suddenly happen to Fliss and they dropped into the sea, he’d be a goner this far from the shore.

A wave crests underneath them, spraying up a salty mist. Tobias leans away from it, hissing, and Nia laughs. It’s so unexpected that he looks back at her, caught off-guard by how she suddenly looks totally unafraid. She’s leaning right over Fliss’ side, watching the ocean waves with delight, one paw outstretched to catch more of the ocean spray, one paw still gripping Tobias’ side. Tobias blinks. He knew the height was an issue for the fighting type, but seeing such a drastic shift just from them lowering their altitude is really…something. Too bad Tobias feels like he’s currently dangling over certain death if Fliss gets so much as a wing cramp.

“S-So you haven’t ever like...crashed or anything, right?” Tobias yells, turning to look forward again.

Fliss’s back rumbles underneath them with a laugh. “‘Course not, hun! You think I’d offer to fly a fire type across the ocean if I had? We’ll be fine, trust me.”

Tobias takes a deep breath and tries to relax. It doesn’t work. Nia leans forward to catch his eye. “Hey, you okay?”

Tobias snorts, eyes forward and resolutely not on the ocean below them. “Fantastic.”

Nia stares at him with a little frown, before her expression clears. “Oh! It’s the water, huh? I didn’t even think of how scary that’d be for you. Sorry.”

Tobias doesn’t answer, trying not to feel embarrassed by how tense he is, and for a moment Nia is silent too. Then she leans forward, past him, and yells, “Hey, Fliss? Can we go a bit higher? J-Just a little!”

Fliss turns her head to give Nia a confused look, and Tobias does the same. “Odd request from a fighting type,” the braviary says. “But all right.”

Fliss tilts her wings and flaps, catching an updraft that takes them a bit higher. They’re still over open water, but it feels less threatening when it isn’t clawing at Tobias’ feet and spraying his skin with salty, stinging mist. He relaxes, and both of Nia’s paws hold firmly to his sides again. When he glances back at her, she still has her eyes open, looking out over the horizon. She doesn’t look quite as at-ease as she was before, but she doesn’t seem terrified, either.

Nia notices his stare and furrowed brow, and shrugs with a little smile. “S-Seemed like a good compromise to me. Better for both of us to be a little uncomfortable rather than either of us being completely terrified, right?”

Tobias blinks, surprised by the explanation. He…guesses that makes sense. If it keeps him from getting sprayed with stinging water and Nia from breaking his ribs, then he’ll take it. He nods and looks forward again.

After that it’s silent, save for the roaring wind and the crash of sea waves below them. They’re making good time from what Tobias can tell, but they’ve still got a bit of traveling ahead of them. Tobias has taken to closing his eyes and losing himself in the relaxing sensations of the flight when Fliss makes a mildly surprised sound that puts him immediately on edge. He looks around, not seeing anything, then follows the braviary’s gaze down to the ocean, heart jumping in his chest when he sees the shadow of a Pokemon speeding along below them, serpentine and absolutely massive, easily multiple times longer than Fliss is large. Before he can get concerned, Fliss takes them higher, safely out of range of the mysterious Pokemon.

“By Yveltal’s wings, that’s a big ‘un!” the braviary cries out. “Must be a gyarados. Likely travelling to Ghatha too.”

Tobias watches the shape, frowning. It’s still matching their pace perfectly, nothing but a dark blur broken up by the choppy waves. A gyarados, huh? He can’t remember seeing one before so he can’t be sure, but something about the silhouette seems…different from what he remembers in the books.

“Th-That’s a Pokemon?” Nia asks, clinging closer to Tobias. “I-It’s huge!”

Tobias doesn’t respond, watching as the shape suddenly falls back and out of sight.

Nia cranes her head back to watch it go, then leans into him again with a more relaxed grip. After a moment, she asks, “‘By Yveltal’s wings?’ Yveltal is one of the, uh...the legendary Pokémon, right?”

Tobias nods. “God of destruction, but also a deity of flight and war.”

Nia blinks, looking startled. “War?”

Tobias glances back at her. “Yeah. Hasn’t been a war in centuries, but a lot of Pokémon still look to the war deities for help in battle.”

After a beat of silence to digest that information, Nia hesitantly says, “I’ve been meaning to ask, a-and I hope this isn’t like…offensive? But, uh. What exactly is the deal with legendary Pokémon? I’ve heard people reference them and I’ve read a couple of books but are they, like...real Pokémon?”

Tobias bites back a sharp retort. He’s not allowed to snap at her for asking questions about the Pokémon world, no matter how ridiculous they are. “Did you not have gods in your world?”

“Well,” Nia says thoughtfully. “From what I can remember, there were different...religions, in the human world. So, like…I think my family believed in one god and one god only. But some people believed in a different god. Or multiple gods. Or no gods at all. And there wasn’t ever really any hard...proof, I guess? Of any of them existing. So I guess I’m wondering if it’s the same way here.”

Tobias frowns. “The gods here are real Pokémon, as far as we know. According to records and some of the older Pokemon, we used to see them and interact with them regularly, but in the last century or so they’ve just...disappeared. We don’t know if something happened or they just abandoned us or what.”

“You don’t sound all that worried about it.”

Tobias shrugs. “What’s there to be worried about? The situation’s been the same ever since I’ve been alive. Nothing’s changed for me.”

“But most Pokémon still believe in them, right?”

“To an extent, yeah.”

“Do you?”

Tobias pauses and looks up at the endless blue sky, thinking about how to respond. He hadn’t ever given it much thought, honestly. “…Maybe. My parents prayed to a few of them, and Maggie is pretty devout even if she keeps it quiet. I don’t really know if I believe in them or not. All I know is that if they used to be real, they aren’t watching over us anymore.“

“Really? Why do you say that?”

Tobias feels something tighten in his chest as he remembers rain and fear and a terrible sense of being completely alone, no matter how much he cried for help.

“Because they sure weren’t watching over me when I needed them.”

Nia goes quiet. Then, softly, she says, “I think I believe in a higher something, but I don’t know for sure what that is. Especially now, coming here to this world. I’m just more confused than ever.”

Tobias makes a noncommittal noise in his throat.

“I’ve read about some of them,” Nia continues. “You’ve mentioned an, uh...Entay?”

“Entei,” Tobias corrects. His parents had taught him to pray to the legendary beast when he was young. “Protector of fire types and children. Part of a trio alongside Suicune and Raikou. Suicune protects water types and watches over lakes and rivers. Raikou protects electric types and watches over storms.”

“Oh! I think I remember seeing a picture of those three. They kind of looked like…dogs? Or tigers, maybe? Weren’t there two birds, too?”

Birds? Tobias thinks Nia has called some of the flying type Pokemon that before. “Probably Lugia and Ho-oh—deities of the moon and sun. Lugia controls the seas and protects ocean voyages, and Ho-oh controls the Summer and Autumn seasons. Protects from fires.”

“Wow,” Nia breathes, sounding fascinated. “That’s so specific! And there are a lot of other ones, too, right?”

“Yeah, but they’re not all that specific. Like…Mew is just called the Mother of All Pokémon, so she’s more of a common deity. It’s said that she’s willing to help any Pokémon because in a way we’re all her children or something.”

“I think I remember Mew. Little pink cat Pokémon?”

“She’s definitely pink.”

“Okay. So is there like...a god above all the other gods?”

“There’s Arceus,” Tobias says, slowly. “I guess they’d be the closest thing. Although that’s one Pokémon they say no one ever saw, even when all the others deities were pretty common. They say Arceus created the other legendaries, who in turn created us.”

Nia’s silent again, probably thinking, and Tobias takes advantage of the brief moment of quiet, closing his eyes again to fully enjoy the sun against his face. He really missed flying.

“But not all gods are like...good, right?” Nia asks eventually. “Like yuh...yuveltel? He’s a god of war, right?”

“Yveltal is the god of destruction,” Fliss corrects, startling them both. “But that doesn’t mean he’s bad. All things have to die for new life to take their place, after all. It’s just the natural order of things. Yveltal destroys and ends, and Xerneas creates and starts anew.“

“I...guess that’s true,” Nia says, still sounding doubtful. “But war isn’t a good thing, or necessary.”

“But it still happens,” Fliss says. “Battles happen and we all need someone to turn to for hope in bleak, bloody situations. So Yveltal got that job, as a destruction legendary. If it’s too late to hope for peace, it gives a lot of hope to think you have the god of destruction himself on your side.”

Nia hums. “Okay…I guess that makes sense. But what about that one kind of scary legendary Pokémon? The legends made him out to be really, really bad.”

“Darkrai?”

“It looked kind of like a dragon. Something about dimensions?”

“Ah,” Fliss says, nodding. “That would be Giratina. He was exiled long before the other legends disappeared, banished to the dimensional rift. I will admit he’s a real piece of work, according to the stories.”

“I couldn’t find much about him,” Nia admits, leaning past Tobias to talk more directly to the braviary.

“That’s because a lot of Pokémon ain’t comfortable talking about him!” Fliss crows, sounding amused. “But I ain’t scared of some dusty old tall tales. Wanna hear about his banishment? My granny told me the story when I was just a chick.”

Nia grins. “Yes please!”

Fliss laughs, and Tobias doesn’t complain when the braviary slows, leveling her flight into a smoother glide over ocean drafts. The charmander is admittedly curious, too. He can’t remember anyone telling him much about Giratina’s story before, though he’s heard the name whispered once or twice over the years.

“Well, the legends claim that Giratina was once the guardian of our world’s borders,” Fliss begins. “He kept our dimension safe and sturdy, keeping out anything that didn’t belong in the Pokémon world and making sure no Pokémon got too big-headed and tried to explore past its borders. Myths about humans existed even hundreds of years ago, y’know? Some suspected that if we could cross that dimensional border, we’d find them. It was part of Giratina’s job to keep Pokemon from trying to do so.”

Nia’s hold on Tobias tightens as she whispers, “The human world?”

“I guess it would have messed with something, if we were allowed to hop between worlds like that,” Fliss continues. “So it was Giratina’s job to upkeep that land surrounding our own, keep us in and others out so nothing would be disrupted. He was always a bit of a shiny wooloo among the gods, never deigned regular Pokémon worthy of his presence and kept to himself. But he did his job! They say Pokémon would see him sometimes in reflections, blood-red eyes cold and fierce. But he was never aggressive, never abandoned his duties.”

“Until one day,” Fliss’ voice drops to something low and dramatic. “He just lost his head. Attacked another legend out of the blue and nearly killed ‘em! I believe it was Cresselia? Or maybe it was Celebi. Anyways! As punishment, Arceus themself banished Giratina to his own dimensional rift, trapping him so that he couldn’t leave it or even contact our world. They say he’s still there to this day, plotting his revenge, and that on still nights you can see the shadow of him flickering in reflections, watching and trying to break free.”

A beat of quiet, and then Nia shudders behind him. “O-Okay, that’s creepy. So no one knows what set him off? Why he would just attack another legendary like that?”

“Beats me!” Fliss says, chipper once more. “Most Pokémon don’t even like to talk about him, so we don’t know a lot about the story anymore.”

Nia makes a dissatisfied noise, then asks, “Well, what about the dimensional rift between the Pokémon world and other dimensions? Has anyone tried to cross it since Giratina was trapped? There are humans popping up in this world, so wouldn’t that mean something’s gone wrong there?”

There’s a heavy, out-of-place pause. Then, Fliss says, “You aren’t a normal Pokémon, are you Nia?”

Nia jerks back in surprise, and Tobias freezes.

“Most every Pokemon knows about the gods, after all,” Fliss continues casually. “You wouldn’t happen to be heading to that human meet-up in Ghatha, now would ya?”

For a moment, Tobias thinks of August’s warning for them to keep quiet about Nia being human. From how Nia clutches him tighter, he bets she’s remembering the same thing.

“I, u-uh. I am, actually,” Nia finally says, quietly. “Is that okay?”

Fliss laughs as Tobias gives the riolu a nasty glare for blowing their cover so easily. “Sure! It’s just fine with me, lass. Just hope you weren’t trying to keep it a secret—if so, you’re doing a right poor job of it!”

Nia makes a quiet, unhappy sound in her throat. “Should…Should we be keeping it a secret?”

Fliss makes a thoughtful trilling sound. “Heard about that squabble between the humans and Pokémon, eh? I doubt you’ll run into any real trouble around here, but if you’re worried about it then don’t go asking such obvious questions in front of other Pokémon, all right? I knew something was odd since we left port.”

Nia groans and bumps her head dejectedly into Tobias’ back. “I’ll…try to keep that in mind.”

Fliss laughs again. “Aw, cheer up! I’m excited, at least! Never thought I’d be takin’ a human across the sea! What a world.”

Nia and Fliss continue to chatter on about humans and Nia’s experiences since coming to the Pokemon world, and Tobias closes his eyes to relax again. He gets dangerously close to dozing as they continue into the roaring wind, sun rising higher to warm them and dazzle the sea. Nia and Fliss eventually fall silent, and the riolu slowly relaxes against him as the minutes pass, probably falling into a nap herself. Tobias idly wonders if every charmander or bagon feels this connection to the sky, or if it’s just him.

They stay like that until they hear a distant cry, nearly snatched away by the wind. Fliss calls back, loud and jarring, and Nia jumps. A moment later, Tobias spots a small flock of Pokémon flying to the left, veering towards them. Fliss doesn’t seem alarmed, and as they get closer, Tobias can pick out a togekiss and flygon guiding a group of smaller flying type Pokémon, letting them ride their drafts in the harsh wind.

“Fledglings?” Fliss calls, eyes fond as she spots a little rufflet in the pack.

The togekiss corrects a wobbly swablu’s form and the flygon nods, eyes flicking from Fliss’ designated flight scarf to Tobias and Nia before he smiles. “First day out over open ocean.”

Fliss laughs. “Terrifying, ain’t it? Feels like Kyogre herself’s gonna leap outta the ocean and snatch you up! If y’all are out here, that must mean we’re getting mighty close to Ghatha, right?”

Tobias feels a stir of excitement—comfortable or not, he’s ready to stretch his legs—and squints at the direction they’ve been heading in for the past hour or so. Is that a faint silhouette on the horizon or is he just imagining it?

The flygon nods again, looking at Tobias and Nia. “You two been to Ghatha before?”

Nia must shake her head no, because the flygon smiles. “Well, you sure picked a perfect time to come visit. There’s a magic show planned for tomorrow evening! A big one, at the convention center at central square”

Nia gasps behind him. “A magic show?!”

Flygon nods. “Cheap admission too. I think there’s a big meeting happening at the conference center beforehand so it’s sure to be packed, but I’ve heard of these guys so they should be good. I think they do a lot of fire manipulation.”

At that, Tobias perks up. A magic show could be all right, but a fire-based one? He doesn’t get to see many fire types aside from himself in the Haven. It can feel a bit isolating, especially with so many grass and bug types around.

Fliss sighs. “Darn. Wish I could stick around to see it, but I’ll likely get called away for a flight before then. The kiddos could probably go, though!”

“Thank you for letting us know!” Nia yells over the wind.

The flygon nods, then glances at his flock. “I have to head back. Enjoy Ghatha!”

The dragon type tilts his wings and wheels back to his group. Tobias watches him go, wishing somehow he could join them, until Nia squeezes him.

“Look!”

Tobias does, eyes widening at the sheer size of the city they’re approaching. The silhouette of it becomes more detailed as they get closer, murky grays revealing tall stacks of stone buildings, almost all of them painted with bright accents of color that give the city an immediate sense of life. It’s huge, sprawling along the oceanside cliffs and stretching from one edge of Tobias’ sight to the other.

Fliss is clearly familiar with the area, and immediately flies to a tall flight tower right along the edge of the cityscape. She circles it, finding an empty loft before gliding in and flapping to a stop. It’s dim inside, and a few flyers glance over at the new arrivals. A swellow lifts a wing in greeting, calling, “Fliss! Long time no see.”

Fliss laughs and calls back, “Cobalt! Good to see that handsome mug. Gimme just a sec to set these two off.” She crouches low to the ground, wings spread, and glances back at Tobias. “All right, kiddos, Ghatha awaits!”

Tobias slides off the braviary’s back and barely manages to catch himself before his legs buckle from the long flight. With a yelp, Nia falls onto the ground beside him in a heap, clearly as stiff as he is.

“Thank you for flying us, Fliss,” Nia says once she gets back to her feet. She gives the flying type a grateful smile. “Really. It would’ve been a rough ride without you.”

Fliss laughs and retracts her wings. “Not a problem. You’re two of the most pleasant customers I’ve had in a while!”

“Maybe we’ll see you again on the way back,” Nia suggests hopefully.

“Maybe so!” Fliss gives the two of them a wink. “For now, you two just have a good time in the city and enjoy that magic show. Stay friendly, okay?” Her gaze flicks to Tobias, an unfamiliar note of something serious entering her voice. “Just not too friendly.”

Tobias stiffens. That...was that a warning? Fliss hadn’t acted particularly concerned about Nia keeping her human life a secret during the flight, but…

Fliss gives them both another nod before walking over to the swellow. Tobias looks at Nia, wondering if she caught the braviary’s subtle warning, but the riolu is just digging through their satchel with an oblivious smile on her face. Great.

Tobias sighs, wordlessly turning and leading the way to the staircase when Nia finally looks up with an eager expression and a thumbs-up. They descend to the ground level and wave at the check-in Pokémon, an emolga. Before they can step out into the street Tobias reaches out to grab Nia’s arm.

“Wait.”

Nia does, looking at him with a tilt of her head.

Tobias glances back to make sure the emolga isn’t listening. “Look, I know it’s important to you that you used to be human.”

Nia pulls her arm away from him, open expression becoming more wary. “Yes?”

“And I know we’re here for the human meetup. But I’ve been thinking about what August said, and I think he might be right. Just…try to be discreet, all right?”

Nia frowns, looking disheartened. “What? But I thought everyone said not to worry about it too much.”

Tobias has to take a deep breath not to retort with something sharp. Nia’s not dumb by any means, but she’s just so trusting. It’s gonna be a problem one day. Fliss might’ve wanted to spare Nia any unwarranted panic, but Tobias is more concerned about them being attacked than the riolu’s soft heart.

“Did you not hear Fliss up there on the flight floor? That was a warning. Whether anything actually happens or not, it’s a good idea to lay low when we can.”

Nia looks away and whispers, “I guess.”

Tobias sighs. “Good. Let’s get a move-on, then. We should find this place right away so we know where to go tomorrow without getting lost. We can decide where to stay afterwards.”

They step out onto the street, and Tobias barely catches Nia’s sullen expression smoothing away to something awed and starry-eyed as she looks around. He’s too busy doing the same.

If the city looked huge from far away, then that’s nothing compared to being in the heart of it. The streets are bustling with all kinds of Pokémon going about their business, types and species he’s never even seen before in real life. A huge copperajah passes by, making the cobblestone road beneath them shake with her steps, and a group of tiny mincinno dodge around her legs with ease, not even breaking their conversation. A Seeker team lead by a rapidash trots by, laughing, and a couple of starly swoop by overhead. The stream of Pokémon is endless, a thick crowd blocking out the buildings on the opposite side of the street entirely. Everything is in noisy motion, and the energy in the street is unreal. Beyond the passing Pokémon there are shops bracketing the path, and a few vendors yelling to try and market their wares. It would be stifling if not for the brisk sea breeze cooling everything down, a cut of bright sunlight slanting down between the maze of buildings.

“Oh wow,” Nia breathes, a beaming smile forming on her face. “And I thought Afon’s Cap was amazing!”

“This place makes Afon look like a dump,” Tobias agrees, still looking around. He’s never been here before either, and it more than lives up to the hype.

“How’re we ever gonna find the meeting place?” Nia asks, digging into the satchel to pull out the crumpled flyer for the human meetup.

Tobias leans over to look. “It says it’s just north of the main plaza. Whatever that means.”

“I guess we’ll have to just ask around?”

Tobias nods, looking around at the crowd. “Yeah. Let’s just ask for the plaza, so Pokémon don’t start wondering why we‘re looking for the convention center.”

Nia wilts, giving him a pathetic look. “Do you really think Pokémon would attack us? If they knew I was—well. You know.”

Tobias sighs. “No, not really. But I’d rather not take any chances. This place is different than the Haven, and we don’t know anyone, either. We get in trouble here and we’re screwed.”

Nia doesn’t look happy with that answer, but she nods. “I…guess you’re right. Pokémon have just been so nice to me that it’s hard to believe any of them could be cruel like that.”

Tobias looks at her, then gestures to the scarf tied around her arm over fang-shaped scars. “You already forget how you got those?“

Nia winces. “Of course not. But that was an outlaw.”

“Any Pokémon in this city could be an outlaw. Trust too easily and it’ll get you killed,” Tobias counters, looking around. He nods to the left. “C’mon, we should get moving before someone needs through to the flight tower.”

Nia still looks pensive, but tucks away the flyer and follows as Tobias steps into the flow of Pokémon and starts moving with the crowd. It’s hard to keep up the right speed and dodge stray tails and paws when neither of them are used to it, and they quickly find themselves being jostled and tripped by the overwhelming crowd. He and Nia almost lose sight of each other when a stantler charges right between them. After that, Nia hooks a paw around Tobias’ elbow, stepping closer. He gives her a look but otherwise doesn’t comment. It’d be nearly impossible to find each other if they got separated in a crowd this big.

“S-So where exactly are we going?” Nia asks.

Tobias shrugs. “The crowd will have to open up eventually and we can ask around when that happens.”

Nia nods but doesn’t answer, still too focused on looking around at the colorful variety of Pokémon and buildings they pass.

Eventually they reach a small plaza where the crowd thankfully thins out. There’s a large fountain in the middle of the space, and Tobias steers them over to it to catch their breath.

“Whew! I thought we’d never get out of that,” Nia says, hopping up to sit on the edge of the stone fountain and kick her paws. “I think it’d be too lucky for this to be the plaza we’re looking for. There are some vendors and shops around, though. Wanna start here?”

“As good a place as any,” Tobias huffs, still a bit on edge from the walk. He’s not sure he’s ever been surrounded by so many Pokémon at once, and he doesn’t like the feeling. “We could—“

“Get back here and let me peck your nose off, you coward!”

Tobias spins around at the shout, just in time for a flash of brown fur to zigzag past him. A moment later, a furious ball of blue, black and yellow feathers flies into view from the crowd of Pokémon. A rookidee?

Tobias doesn’t register the flying type’s sudden expression of panic or how they try to backpedal until they slam into him, knocking them both to the ground.

Tobias immediately shoves the rookidee off, snarling, “Watch it!”

The bird shoots him their own glare. “You watch it, you overgrown lizard! That scrap of fur stole my money!” And with that, they’re off again, fluttering back into the air and shooting off after the brown-furred Pokémon.

“Jeez,” Tobias grumbles, brushing himself off. “Warm welcome, huh?”

When there’s no answer, Tobias looks up to find Nia gone. Of course. He whips around, just in time to see the riolu’s fluffy tail vanish into the crowd—in the same direction as the rookidee and the thief.

Tobias groans, tipping back his head and shoving his palms into his eyes. They’ve been in the city for half an hour and Nia is already sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong and trying to stop a street robbery. He’s going to kill that riolu.

#pmd #pokemon mystery dungeon #pokemon #braviary #pmd seekers of soul #tesha draws #tesha writes

130 notes · View notes

bestiesenpai · 3 years

Text

Idolatry - Getou Suguru

I love aliens and someday I will fuck one

Content warnings: manipulation/blackmail

“Mayday, mayday! Mission control, please come in, this is astronaut Getou Suguru!” The red emergency lights were on, multiple different sirens were going off in the background and Getou had just lost the rest of his crew.

“Mission control, can you hear me?!” He slammed on the control panel, desperately flipping switches and trying to regain control of his failing aircraft. All his training back on Earth hadn’t prepared him for the possibility of a black hole opening up and sucking in half his ship, ripping it apart and taking it somewhere unknown.

“Please, please, please!” There were frantic tears and sweat dripping down Getous face as he tried to get the thrusters back online. His ship was in shambles, slipping further and further into the blackhole.

Looking up through the windshield, his view of space before him was slowly fading away and he felt an intense pull from behind him, almost as if he was being ripped apart himself as he and his ship were pulled into the blackhole.

Getou didn’t think he’d wake up after that. The world had gone completely black, all the oxygen yanked from his body and the cold vacuum of space compressed around him. Getou hadn’t expected to wake up on firm, solid ground. And much less surrounded by otherworldly creatures.

“Is it really him?” He wasn’t sure how he understood the things before him, their voices warbled and distorted, but he could. Getou could only watch with fuzzy edged vision as the creatures crowded around him and their features became clearer.

“It must be! Just look at his face!”

“He’s got the hair as well, and his skin is milky white like in the stories!”

“Our God has returned to us, what a joyous day this is!” Someone cried and Getou was lifted up from the ground and removed from the rubble that was his spaceship. Struggling to breathe, he was sure there were a few cracked ribs under his skin.

“Be gentle now, the journey from the heavens wasn’t kind on him.”

“To the temple, at once!”

Placed on a long gurney, Getou was transported to the temple in question. With his vision going in and out, he could just barely make out the bright blue trees and foreign animal sounds passing him by. The creatures that had lifted him up were now closer to be viewed and Getou could tell they weren’t of human origin.

“Oh, how we’ve waited for this day!” The heat of whatever jungle Getou was in had a light sheen of sweat gathering on his skin, but the warm air helped lull him into a more relaxed state, almost falling asleep despite the situation.

Carried up the steps of the temple, Getou barely came to when he was stripped and submerged into a pool of light green water, nearly scalding him and scented with what appeared to be rose petals floating around him.

“Call the shamans, we need to make sure everything is correct!” There was rustling around him, figures darting in and out of his half lidded gaze. Someone was lifting one of his arms to wash him, immediately letting go when he let out a pained groan.

“He needs medicine, quick!” In an instant something was being poured down Getous throat, an ice cold liquid that spread across his body and made a shiver go through him. There was a heavy silence in the air for a moment as he was observed, and all of a sudden, he felt better.

Sitting up a little straighter in the solid gold tub he could now see, Getou stayed silent as his body was washed. The creatures around him avoided eye contact, bowing their heads when he turned to look at them.

They were gentle, washing the dried blood off Getous face and combing through his hair with their long pointed nails. He’d never received such lavish treatment before, and as he relaxed further into the tub, a man dressed in robes not unlike the ones Getou owned back home came to the side of the tub with a heavy tome, reciting something in an unknown language over Getou.

He was lifted out of the tub and dried gently, dressed in a soft green robe like the man that had prayed over him, and escorted to another room. He could tell this was at the heart of the giant gray stone temple, a skylight and large windows high on the vaulted ceilings letting in plenty of natural light and illuminating the lavish scene in the middle of the room.

In the middle of the room atop a short flight of stairs, sat a golden, red tufted stool only a few feet up from the ground and surrounded by a multitude of pillows and ornate gold decorations. Several oriental rugs were draped across the floor, covering the cool limestone underfoot.

A thick mattress lay just behind the stool with semi-sheer curtains curtains concealing it and the many pillows and blankets atop it. Hundreds of candles were lit around the room as well, lighting up dark corners or simply for decoration around and atop the rugs and stool.

Able to walk on his own now, Getou slowly went up the steps with only a mild drag in his sore legs. Skimming his fingers across the seat of the stool, he walked past it and to the bed, pushing the curtains aside and melting into the squishy mattress.

Even though he couldn’t really keep track of the time, Getou was sure a week had passed since he’d crash landed on this mysterious planet. In that time, he filled in the blanks of what was going on around him.

He was being worshipped as a God, an altruistic being that had fallen from the heavens as foretold in the legends of the people that lived here. Apparently, he was one of many gods and goddesses that the planet believed in, and it just so happened that his sudden appearance aligned with a prophecy that he would arrive.

Not one to live in a lie, Getou had originally wanted to tell the truth once he was able to speak more properly. It wouldn’t be right for them to place such strong faith into him when he truly wasn’t what they wanted, but he found it harder and harder as time went on.

And that was because of the treatment he received. He was bathed everyday, fed delicious meals whenever he wanted and was showered in praise and admiration at every second. To say Getou was soaking up all the attention was an understatement; he was absolutely drowning in it.

“My Lord, may I approach?” It was midday, the sun beaming down through the ceiling directly onto Getou, warming him up and making him radiate with light. A temple worker he’s never seen before enters the room, head bowed and with a familiar set of objects in their hand.

“You may.” Getou quickly noticed the basin, towel and pitcher of water and sat up a little straighter in his stool. It was time for his midday foot bath. You made quick work of the steps and knelt down before him in a moment.

Getou watched as you silently poured the water, keeping your head bowed per usual. Craning his head up to the sky, Getou lazily studied the windows above him. There were no clouds in the sky on this planet, but it didn’t stop the sky from looking beautiful.

“You’re quite handsome, my Lord.” That comment had Getou’s head snapping back down and coming eye to eye with you. No one else had ever made eye contact with him, not even the shamans that spoke with him about sacred texts. The sudden change unnerved him, making him blush.

“I didn’t know you were allowed to look upon me in such a way.” Getou said, dipping his feet into the bath and relaxing his legs. “I am a God, after all. Wouldn’t a comment like that be considered blasphemous?” Regaining control over his suddenly rapid heartbeat, Getou still felt a light veil of heat across his face.

“It would be, if you really were a God in the first place.” Getou nearly choked on his spit as he heard the words come out of your mouth.

“E-excuse me?! I am a God!” His face erupted in a dark blush. This was bad, really bad. The smirk on your face told him all he needed to know; the jig was up, you saw right through him. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t still try and keep up the ruse.

“An arrival from the sky may have been foretold in the legends, but you are not what was promised to us.” Your words were quick and concise, an almost harsh tone underlying them. “It was my job to go through the rubble of the craft you arrived in, and I found quite a few things labeled from a planet called ‘Earth’.”

He and Gojo just had to have too much fun with the label maker, didn’t they?

“Earth is what us God's call the place we reside.” Clearing his throat, Getou tried to soothe his burning cheeks.

“Then why did I find this?” Digging into a hidden pocket within your robes, you pulled out a thick manuscript, personally typed and signed by Getou outlining his position within the team and the duties he’d fulfill while on the mission that ultimately brought him here.

The edges of the paper were all burnt and crispy, but most of the pages were still intact. Flipping through them, you showed him all the polaroid pictures that were stuffed inside of Getou in his space suit and at the control panels of the ship, and with Gojo and other crew members.

“I didn’t think a God would carry around so many papers about his job. I thought you just knew.” Tossing the manuscript to the floor, you sprinkled smelling salts into the water and grabbed onto one of Getou’s feet, raising it only slightly as you let him mull over the new information before him.

“So, I assume you’ll have me killed for lying, then?” There was a heavy pit sitting in his stomach, but Getou knew this day would come, it was only a matter of when.

“Kill you? Never!” Your sudden laugh gave him pause.

“Then what? What will happen to me now?”

“I intend to use this information to my advantage.”

“You want to use me to climb the ranks at the temple, don’t you?” Narrowing his eyes, Getou could already see the plan formulating behind your eyes.

“Precisely, my Lord. Over the course of a few months, I will become your most trusted advisor.” Letting go of his foot, your hand slid up Getou’s leg, your pointed nails scraping against his skin. “And before the anniversary of the sun’s return, I will be the highest shaman in the temple. Your right hand, if you may.”

As you spoke, your hand went higher and higher, skimming the edges of his long silken robe and going under it, cupping his knee for a moment before stopping midthigh. If anyone walked in right now, what would they say to the scene in front of them?

“What’s in it for me?” Getou shuddered as your nails dragged lightly along his skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake that had his senses tingling. You flashed him a smile, one full of rows of shiny black teeth.

“Why, you get to remain the all powerful God of this land, bestowing wisdom upon the subjects that worship you.” Sidling up to Getous legs, you fully pushed apart his robes to reveal his soft cock. “And…”

“And?” Getou pressed as you trailed off, subtly opening his legs as much as he could with his feet still in the basin. You chuckled at him, hand grabbing gently onto the base of his cock. Getou had come to learn that the creatures on this planet were often colder than he was, and your lukewarm hand was a testament to that.

“And I’ll keep you nice and happy.” Brazenly leaning over his lap, you sucked the tip of his cock into your mouth, your long tongue lapping out and wrapping around him, the tip going all the way down to his balls.

“Ah!” The unexpected pleasure shooting up his spine made Getou curl inward, knocking over the basin and spilling water onto the rugs. His hand shot out to grasp the back of your head, urgently trying to ground himself as his mind turned to mush.

“Don’t worry about the mess, my Lord. I’ll clean it up.” Pulling off his cock, you licked your lips and looked over your shoulders.

“You- what’s your name?” Getou panted, his legs already starting to tremble.

“(Y/N), my Lord.” You grinned, beginning to slowly jerk off his cock.

“(Y/N).” He tested the name on his tongue but he couldn’t speak any further as you thumbed the tip of his cock.

“But you don’t need to worry yourself about that now.” Now that his feet were free, you could slide in between Getou’s legs and get to his cock easier. “Right now, it’s all about you.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto suguru #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen scenarios

124 notes · View notes

caribbeanempressblog · 3 years

Text

StarStruck 💫

Ot7 x Reader

Teaser.

Work count : 1.3k

Hi lovelies it's been forever since I wrote anything wanted to bless you guys with a lil something while I find my groove again. Hope you enjoy 💞

“Hyung there's something wrong with the Tv!” Jungkook's face turned up in a scold as he stood in front of the 32 inch plasma screen.

He didn't appreciate the screen going blank in the most crucial moments of his game of overwatch just when he was about to clear level 75. How rude. They were currently on a three day break from their jam pack schedule of being the biggest band on the planet and he was passing his time catching up on his favorite game.

He pressed the power button again on the remote control waiting for it to power back on…….. Nothing.

Another pressed furiously this time thumb clicking the springy object rapidly as he pushed the control closer to the TV.

Jungkook, annoyed with whatever had caused the TV to stop working, fling the remote on one of the six seater sofas watching as it bounced on the soft maroon colored covering then make its final resting place face up between the creases.

“Did you break it jungkook-ah?” Seokjin called from somewhere he couldn't be seen as jungkook just about knelt in front the massive glass space saver intent on checking the wiring and switches hoping to find the source of his problem.

“That's Namjoon hyung specialty” Jungkook called back as he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth as he came up empty handed with the switches.

The sudden sound of static through the surround sound speakers in which he played his game at maxed volume filled the otherwise silent room almost making him fall over.

“Fuck” Jungkook swore as he shot to his feet frantically grabbing the remote of the chair and pressing on the the lower volume key only it wasn't working.

Panic filled his blood as he pressed the nob furiously as the black and white bubbled across the screen, the sound projecting through the speakers making his ears hurt from the high pitch.

“What the fuck are you doing? “ Yoongi asked a dangerous tone to his voice as he entered the living room satin eye mask settled on his forehead he must have been asleep when the noise sound off he entered the room rubbing the remnants of sleep from his eyes as he walked over to where Jungkook stood in front of the television.

“It's not working” Jungkook whined as he pressed again.

“Give me that,” Yoongi said as he grabbed the remote from Jungkook.” Did you break it? “ he asked brows drawn together in a frown as he pressed a combination of buttons which did nothing to stop the noise that was irritating his nerves.

Jungkook scratched the back of his neck”of course not it just trip of and came back on of its own accord”

Now that he thinks about it, that's exactly what happened. It was off and then it came back on of its own accord now it wouldn't come off.

“What's this horrendous noise about?” Hoseok appeared hands covering his ears to block out the sound.

“Jesus kook why do you play that shit so loud for anyways? “ Yoongi was still fighting with the remote just as Hoseok made his way to stand beside Yoongi to see what all the ratchet was about.

Jungkook's hand came up in defense. “ I swear it wasn't that loud when I was playing”. Eyes going big in defense. Another thing he didn't do but had happened anyways was an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach as Hoseok took his turn at the remote. Maybe he had some hidden power they didn't possess.

“So what, we live with ghosts now” was Yoongi's sarcastic remark as the screen continued to flash and the sounds filled the room.

“Did any of you idiots try unplugging it?” Seokjin emerged from the kitchen hands on his hips as he scolded the three others in the room.

“Uhhh” Jungkook in the middle of the chaos forgot about the most obvious thing to do, they all glanced at each other in embarrassment. Hoseok, the enthusiastic one walked over to the switch pulling the plug from the wall and just as he did silence once again filled the living room.

“Well this is embarrassing” Yoongi said as he plopped down on the sofa drawing his foot up then spreading his body out in a relaxing position giving a little sound of satisfaction when he found the right spot.

“Jungkook-ah I told you about playing games this loud” Seokjin scolded him, fingers pointing in a warning gesture. Jungkook's face turned red in embarrassment. “I swear I didn't! It just went up by itself”

Seokjin opened his mouth to say something but before he could get the words out his attention was pulled to the plasma screen of the television which was blaring static once more.

“What the fuck!? “ Yoongi shot up off the couch in alarm eyes blazing ready to fight jungkook for being a brat only to find everyone frozen in place and looking at the television.

“I told you something weird was going on” Jungkook said nervously as the unexplained unplugged TV continued to be static.

“You guys, what the hell do you think it's a ghost?” Hoseok asked in alarm, inching closer to Jungkook.

“Don't be ridiculous it's probably some power surge” Seokjin scolded but even he didn't look convinced.

“Guys there is some weird shit going on upstairs I swear I saw something materialise in the middle of my bedroom” Namjoon said as he made his way into the living room brows furrowed.

“My phone is acting weird. I can't even get a signal” Taehyung said as he entered the room from an adjacent door holding the cursed object up for the room to see.

Jungkook looked at the phone and saw the same static across the screen like the television. He pulled out his own phone out of his pocket pressing the power button only it wouldn't come on.

“What do you mean something materializes?” Yoongi asked.

“ I don't know. It happened quickly. The light started to blink. I looked up and I swear I saw -” Namjoon pause uncertain how to explain the unexplainable.

“Saw what? “ Seokjin coaxed.

“A portal”

Yoongi glared at Namjoon. “ A portal? Are you drunk?”

“I know what I saw!” Namjoon exclaimed, hand slapping the air knowing how ridiculous the whole thing sounded when he said it out loud but it was what he saw.

Jungkook was only half listening as they bickered back and forth, his attention drawn to the middle of the room as an electric under current filled the room.

“Guys are you feeling this?”Jungkook asked just as the overhead light began to flicker.

Jungkook couldn't explain what was happening. It was like all the air had been sucked out of the room,goosebumps broke out on his skin, all the fine hair standing at attention as the sight unfolded before him.

Jungkook could only stare as what can only describe as a magical portal begin to open up in the middle of the living room. Specks of light filled the room along with a buzzing sound erupted all along them.

"Jungkook get away from there!" Seokjin's panicked voice called from behind him only then did he realize that he had taken several steps towards the light and away from the boys who had all piled behind the sofa several different looks of fear and wonder on their faces.

Jungkook had no time to react as Yoongi screamed his name, at that precise moment a burst of energy blast right through him sending him flying across the room and landing with a heavy thud.

Jungkook groaned in pain as he came too, his head pounding and his body aching as he hands grip the sofa to pull himself into a sitting position only to realize the couch had saved him hitting ground but it had suffered tremendously as the four legs holding it upright had broken down.

"Jungkook are you ok? '' a voice whispered as a hand gripped his shoulders helping him to stand. Jungkook nodded as his feet wobbled beneath him, whatever had hit him did a number on him.

"Everybody ok?"

"What was that?"

Jungkook couldn't answer as his eyes were drawn to the vision laid out before him. Jungkook stepped forward blinking to make sure the blow wasn't affecting his vision.

"Hyungs please tell me you're seeing this".

Jungkook inched closer to the body curled into a ball on the floor as the light over head began to flicker.

"Is that a girl?".

Sorry my PC isn't working I'm posting from my phone so I can't add the read more tag.

#ot7 x reader #bts yoongi #park jimin #bts jungkook #starstruck #bts hoseok #bts seokjin #bts namjoon #bts taehyung

69 notes · View notes

justimajin · 3 years

Text

Til Death Do Us Part ♜ Pt.9

➟ Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

➟ Genre: Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut

↳ (5.2k), Arranged Marriage AU

➟ Summary: If someone told you that you’d be marrying the Kim Namjoon, you would think you were being lied to, or worse, that you were hallucinating. However, fate seems to have it’s own ways of making the impossible possible and before you even know it, the title of Mrs. Kim is bestowed onto you. There’s just one problem: you’re not sure if Kim Namjoon is the person he says he is and the truth of your own identity is dangling by the strength of a mere thread.

➟ Warnings: 18+ rating, graphical descriptions of blood and violence, character death, things get a little steamy 👀

gif credit.

➟ Previous Parts: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

➟ Next Update: Tuesday, February 16

Your body lies on the bed, a blanket resting over you as if you were in the midst of a deep slumber. The normally coral hue to your skin has steadily vanished, lips chapped and dark circles already formed beneath your eyes.

Namjoon paces the room frantically, his arms crossed and gaze never leaving your sleeping form. Seokjin stands in the corner, his eyes sparking in intrigue as Jimin rises from your side with a sigh.

He shakes his head, as if caught up in disbelief himself. Peering up at Namjoon who immediately appears alert, he hesitantly speaks.

“I think….I think Y/N’s been poisoned.”

“What?”

He gestures towards you, “The symptoms are all lining up….and it doesn’t seem like the normal kind.” He explains, “This one’s stronger, but slower. Like trying to kill someone as painfully as possible instead of just trying to get it over with.”

Namjoon’s jaw tightens, brows furiously contorting.

Seokjin shakes his head in dismay, “I guess torturing her wasn’t enough for them....”

At the mention of your previous experience, Namjoon lets out a deep exhale and rubs his temples. He was ecstatic at finally locating, immediately wanting you to recuperate.

But this, this just diminishes all the hopes he had with your recovery, tying his hands together completely.

Seokjin makes brief eye contact with him and gestures him to follow after outside of the room, knowing that simply gazing at your sickly form wouldn’t allow his friend to think logically.

Once the door closes, Seokjin doesn’t hesitate to indulge Namjoon in his thoughts. “We have to go back.”

Before Namjoon can retaliate, he continues, “They’ve used a poison Jimin isn’t usually familiar with ‒ that means we’re dealing with something specific here and the one way to find a cure is to go back where the poison was found.”

“An antidote.” Namjoon annunciates in realization, “It’s worth a try.”

Seokjin hums, “I’ll go ask Jimin how much time we have.”

Namjoon nods, continuing to pace around with knitted brows. Seokjin re-emerges after a moment, but the expression on his features isn’t one Namjoon was hoping for.

“Three hours.”

The alarming news simply aids to add more weight to Namjoon’s shoulders, but he knows that if there’s any chance in saving your life, he would take it within a heartbeat.

Seokjin keenly eyes him, and he knows exactly what he needs to do.

***

Going back is on par with welcoming death and destruction towards his gates ‒ and it’s something that both he and Seokjin have the displeasure of facing.

Seokjin bolts towards a wall, crouching down immediately to avoid the splinter of bullets flying over his head.

“Is it just me or do they seem rather angrier this time around?” He playfully questions, cocking his gun and positioning it to fire back. A small smile curls on Namjoon’s lips at the latter’s sense of humour during such a dire time, yet he can’t help but counter on his own part.

“I would be too if I broke in for a second time and made a mess out of their building.” He aims alongside Seokjin, shooting back with twice the force.

“Well, if they happen to ruin this face of mine, I can’t promise that I won’t do anything.” He hurriedly rushes forward, getting into a more compromising but better position for him to fire back.

Namjoon shakes his head, acknowledging that his partner was simply trying to ease up the tension augmenting in him, but the steadily growing numbers surrounding them counteract all of his intentions. Although he had trusted Jimin to look after you in hopes of a faster recovery, he can’t help but think how much his absence has rendered them in a disarray.

Seokjin carefully heads forward with time, opting out to simply striking down the resistance rather than waste anymore of his precious bullets. Namjoon’s eyes light up in recognition when his actions form a clear pathway, and he doesn’t hesitate to sprint forward.

“It was around here, no?” Seokjin mumbles as his eyes flicker around, exhausted beyond belief but content that the two of them made it through. Namjoon hums, the walls feeling familiar and the passageway striking a recollection from him.

Together, him and Seokjin quickly thread through the hall and target the room where Namjoon had discovered your cell. Seokjin isn’t entirely sure if they can find something there, but he rather not leave any stone unturned in the midst of their presence in the area again.

At the sound of rustling, Seokjin places a hand on his shoulder and steadies him back.

Save for the empty cell in the corner and the bare room, a shadow is cast against the ground, bustling around the area.

The two of them are in hiding, cautiously watching the burly man’s actions from a bird’s eye view. He suddenly pauses in his tracks, head snapping in their direction.

His deep voice breaks the silence, “Who’s there?”

Despite neither of them making a single peep, the man stands his ground, eyeing the corner. Seokjin eventually sighs, raising his gun and slowly coming out of the dark.

Namjoon follows behind him and Seokjin’s stare is intent, prepared to seek out answers, “Y/N L/N. Do you know of her?”

His eyes flicker, a gigantic grin spreading across his features, “One of the spies.” He utters right away, “You must be the Kim’s.”

Seokjin keeps his gaze concentrated as he steps forward in intrigue, interested in their sudden appearance rather than blatantly disgusted.

Once he stands a couple of metres across from them, a question slips from him, “Why are you here?”

At that, Seokjin glances at Namjoon from the corner of his eye, holding back his words with the intent of being vague.

He smirks, before a chuckle escapes him, morphing into a boisterous laugh. It startles the two of them as he lowers his head, the brutish smile not leaving once.

“She’s dying, isn’t she?” He shakes his head in amusement, “I’m not very surprised, she was always the weakest out of us.”

His lingering smile causes Namjoon’s pupils to flare, “You should be happy too, no? You’ve just gotten rid of one of our insects.”

It’s like a sudden flash. One moment Seokjin is aiming his gun at this person with the intent of information in mind, the next Namjoon is pinning him against the wall, voice rough and spiking up.

“My wife is dying, how could you possibly think I would be happy?!”

“Namjoon.”

He huffs, releasing the man immediately and stepping back. Seokjin glances at him in concern, before directing his piercing gaze to the individual that’s fallen onto the ground.

“Where. is. the. antidote?” He grits out, only for him to laugh in retaliation.

“As if I’ll ever tell you anything.”

Seokjin’s eye twitches, “Then I have no use for you.”

He fires without grimacing, scarlet splattering all over the ground. Stepping away, he gestures Namjoon to follow him.

The latter stares at him in confusion when he begins surveying your cell, simply baffled at the way his friend paces around and examines the bars carefully.

After a moment of contemplation, Namjoon speaks up, “What are you doing?”

Seokjin doesn’t retort, choosing to instead crouch down and crawl into the cell himself. Reaching into the pocket of his suit’s jacket, he yanks out a vial and a swab, carefully rolling it over the ground where Namjoon had first discovered you.

A sound of exhilaration leaves him, and Namjoon is still left staring in bewilderment as he rises to his feet and stares at the vile with a spark in his eyes.

“It’s traces of the poison.” He clarifies, “Sure it’s mixed in with some blood, but I figured this would be enough for our chance at reproducing it and creating an antidote instead.”

Namjoon’s mouth falls agape as Seokjin places the vile away safely with a soft smile. He shakes his head, a chuckle escaping through.

“Seokjin, you genius.”

His friend sends him a knowing smile to counteract, and they begin to head out of the room, fully aware that they’ve found a potential source to a solution. However the alarming sound of voices results in them halting their steps, becoming one with the surrounding walls instead.

If the two of them thought it was difficult getting into the building a second time around, there’s a sickening surprise waiting for them.

Three, Seven, Twelve? Namjoon can’t even begin to count the individuals practically pouring into the room, eyes snapping up to meet Seokjin’s which are also twisted up in disbelief. The thought of trying to get past them barely comes across as a suggestion, but when Seokjin’s eyes glimmer for the briefest of seconds, Namjoon knows there’s only one simple way to counteract.

Keeping a firm hold on his gun, he leaps for the opportunity when Seokjin begins to sprint.

Their sudden movement and sound alerts the ears of the dwellers, voices spiking up and heavy footsteps beginning to grow in volume. From the split second that bullets start to fire, the two of them quickly take cover.

Seokjin heaves, “If I end up dying here today, can you promise me that you and Y/N will name your first child after me?”

Namjoon takes out his gun, staring at the former perplexed, “Don’t be in such a hurry to plan your own funeral.” He narrows his eyes, attempting to focus on the mass of individuals heading in their direction.

The question lingers in his mind, making him shake his head. “And what makes you so sure it’ll be a boy?”

Seokjin shrugs, “If it’s a girl you can still name her after me.”

Namjoon continues to stare at him flabbergasted, but once the sound of a gun firing hits his ears, he swivels around.

“Nevermind that, we have company.” Raising his gun, he begins to rapidly fire the weapon as Seokjin does the same, but nonetheless it seems like their efforts are futile from the steadily growing numbers.

“What do you say?” Namjoon asks in amusement, cocking his head in their direction.

Seokjin simply smirks in response, before leaving his cover and grabbing the first person he sees. His knee rams into their head, their form slumping onto the ground as he raises his gun at another, shooting them instantly.

Namjoon soon follows through, aiding him by using as much physical force as possible. However in the midst of the chaos, Seokjin is slammed against a wall, immediately wincing in pain.

He pushes the individual away, but there’s an angry blotch of red beginning to seep from his suit’s jacket, and that’s when he hears the faintest of clinks resonates against the ground.

Seokjin’s eyes threaten to pop out of their sockets, a familiar vile with a broken cap landing onto the ground and rolling about. He attempts to swiftly retrieve it right away, but before he has a chance to do so or to inform Namjoon, the man that threw him against the wall slams his foot down with a huge grin.

“NO!” He curses, resulting in Namjoon whipping his head around in concern, only to see remains of the poison split on the ground. He isn’t even given a chance to think of a way back to possibly retrieve more, two hands grabbing onto his jacket and threatening to rearrange his perfectly sculpted face.

Gritting his teeth as he takes his gun out, he doesn’t even hesitate to fire as Namjoon hurriedly dashes over.

“We have to collect the poison again somehow.” He continues to shoot, mumbling his words as defeat runs through him, “There has to be a way.”

Seokjin doesn’t get a chance to respond, “You’ll be better off in just letting her die.”

Namjoon swivels at the sound of the voice, the man grinning. In fact, the closer he looks, the more he can see the exhilaration surfacing on other faces.

The same man speaks, words becoming more venomous, “We’ll have finally gotten rid of that leech once and for all.”

Namjoon is truly speechless. Here he was, desperate to find an antidote, lingering drops from splotches of the poison, anything possible that would allow you to continue breathing ‒ all in the midst of being surrounded by individuals you would consider to be a part of your family.

There’s not even a single morsel of concern in the people in front of him.

“H-How…” He mumbles, eyes blinking in disbelief, “How can you be so happy to kill a member of your own family?”

“She was compromised.” The man spits out, as if it should be enough of a justification for their horrid actions, “She deserves to have death invited at her doorstep.”

It’s simply unfathomable what overcomes Namjoon in that single second, be it anguish, fury, or even disgust at how deep your vengeance and hatred for each other’s families runs.

He despises how much of a tool you really are, and with how strikingly parallel your routes are, like two sides of the same coin.

Unable to describe what consumes him in that moment, he ultimately decides it would be best for his actions to speak for themself instead. Seokjin blinks at the abrupt surge of strength he suddenly displays, but opts out in aiding his friend instead of questioning it.

Namjoon doesn’t remember how many times he’s grimaced or had a wave of pain jolt through his body, his partner having to forcefully drag him away for an escape instead of continuing to fight back. He chooses to follow, fully aware that any moment longer was a minute away from you surviving through the day.

Although Seokjin races at the prospect of obtaining more of the poison, Namjoon is unsure if it would be enough, if the destroyed remains of the vile he had previously collected was the last of what could have potentially saved you. It sends him into a state of distraught, failure probing into his mind as he slows down.

A feeble arm suddenly shoots out, grasping onto his shoulder and abruptly whisking him into a room. The door is slammed shut and Namjoon blinks, remaining vigilant as tension floods through his form.

The bleak room is completely silent, save for the middle-aged man that quickly turns away from him and begins to rummage through a row of shelves in the corner.

Namjoon’s hand threateningly lingers on his gun, irises locked onto and scrutinizing every action of the man before him. He continues to peer around before Namjoon, searching as if he had lost something.

His frail hands wrap around a small bottle, carefully inspecting it before he turns. There’s a soft smile curved at the corners of his lips, eyes kind and inviting.

Namjoon can only stare in puzzlement as the man reaches out for his hand, gently tightening his own fingers around the bottle. He peers up, smile reaching his crinkling eyes as he lightly pats Namjoon’s hand.

“Take care of her.” He quietly says and that’s when Namjoon’s orbs are darting all over the man’s features. His soft smile, the kind eyes, the way his presence is not hostile nor hateful, simply silent and tender in its presence.

The similarity is striking the more he thinks about it, mind flashing back to the day you became husband and wife. His memory finally allows him to distinctly remember the identity of the man, the very person who had gently brought you down the aisle and the same presence that faithfully watched over you as you agreed to the priest’s vows.

His hand tightens around the bottle and he firmly nods, noticing a sense of deep relief that fills the elder’s eyes.

He jolts as the door strikes open, a fumbling and clearly fatigued Seokjin glancing around. At the sight of the man close to Namjoon, he instantly rushes forward, but is stopped when his friend raises a hand in front of him.

“Let’s go.”

Seokjin stares at him baffled but when Namjoon raises his hand and showcases the bottle he holds, his eyes light up in recognition and he nods.

In the process of escaping, Namjoon turns back for the briefest of movements, a faint glimmer of water appearing in the elder man’s eyes.

Jimin instantly scrambles to his feet.

“What happened?”

Seokjin simply shakes his head, fully aware of his own disarranged appearance that involves his jacket splotched with red and teared into shambles. Namjoon is within a similar state, and although Jimin is previously accustomed to the sight, his eyes can’t help but linger at how utterly exhausted and battered the two individuals before him look.

Namjoon’s orbs hold a glint with them, eyes eagerly darting around to catch a glimpse of the bed you were situated on. A grimace runs through Jimin, and he shifts, revealing the view of your deteriorating state behind him.

Your skin appears as if someone drained all the life out of you. Instead of the parched appearance you had before, this time sweat has collected against your forehead and lashes, the sight of twisted veins beginning to steadily form against your neck and forearms.

Namjoon harshly inhales, pupils frantically darting all over you. Jimin is rendered silent, unsure if there’s anything he can say that would aid the former.

Seokjin beats him to it, showcasing the bottle in hands that has Jimin’s brows perking up. He immediately snatches it, exiting the room within seconds.

Namjoon collapses onto a chair near your beside, shoulders deflating with defeat. Seokjin walks over and stands by him, gaze raking over the way you continue to let out shallow breaths, colour rapidly depleting from your skin.

A moment of silence passes by in wait of Jimin’s return, but every minute feels too drawn out, as if time was growing stall and running out of patience.

You let out a small cough and Namjoon’s head snaps up, rising from the chair.

Seeming harmless at first, it morphs into a wheeze, as if you were struggling to breath. Namjoon is deduced to simply watching as your chest heaves, unable to do anything.

Seokjin disappears from the room in search of Jimin, but as he returns, he’s astounded to see his friend’s eyes glossed over right before he turns away.

The two of them exchange a look before Jimin hastily advances forward, crouching by your bedside and administering whatever he could conjure within the short time person via a syringe. Seokjin aids him by constricting your movements so as to not make the process difficult, but the effects on your body don’t seem to fade even as the antidote makes its way through your system.

Seokjin turns around with a sigh, placing a comforting hand on Namjoon’s downturned posture. His back is still facing you, his forehead scrunched in his hands as his shoulders shake the slightest.

As the three of them helplessly stand and pace around the room, a large inhale suddenly slips from your lips and captures everyone’s attention, the slightest tinge of pink beginning to gradually spread over your skin.

You gaze into the mirror, one hand raising up to gather your dangling locks while the other searches around for a pin. The small token of metal falls within your gasps and you carefully fasten it in, tucking them behind.

It compliments the ruby red gown you're wearing, the material silky to touch and dropping down to cascade into a long train that spreads onto the ground. It’s paired with your hair briefly tossed into a part, a faint glow of purple sitting at the base of your throat.

Your hands come to rest by your side, stare roaming around the image that is reflected back at you until you catch sight of the corner, noticing a pair of eyes with crossed arms and furrowed brows watching your every single gesture.

A small smile cracks on your lips, and you’re already aware of the words he’s aching to spew.

“You should really be resting.”

You resume fiddling around with your dress, ensuring it was secure enough. “You already know my answer to that.”

Namjoon deeply sighs, pushing himself off the wall and striding over to you. You can tell he’s tired of simply observing you, watching for the hints of your skin paling or for a cough to suddenly break out of you in between your reassuring and coaxing words.

Although you can understand his genuine concern, news of coming across the person that wanted Namjoon dead at a mass banquet reigned heavier on you. You hadn’t hesitated to prepare yourself for the occasion, knowing that it would be a difficult task to have something escape by your perceptive eyes.

But Namjoon can’t admit defeat, frantically circling around you near the mirror on the table. You immediately swivel around, eyes coming into contact with his right away.

His hands rest against the edge on either side of you, leaning against your form.

“What if you feel unwell?”

You can’t stop the earnest smile that tugs at the corner of your lips, hand reaching out to softly rest against his cheek.

“We need to figure out what’s going on and I’m not going to let you do that alone.”

Namjoon’s shoulders slump down and even though you understand to a certain degree, just solely based on how you can still feel fatigue beneath your lids and your limbs aching despite being able to walk, the thought of encountering the person that nearly tried to kill your husband alongside you is frightening enough on it’s own.

He shakes his head, an exhale leaving him in defeat. As you laugh at the gesture, his amused eyes snap up to meet yours.

The laughter suddenly diminishes, hand slowly dropping down the longer your eyes stay connected. There’s a weight in his gaze you recall seeing before, the memory of having him close abruptly arising in your mind and spreading a sweltering tinge of heat to your skin.

You can tell that his mind is swimming with the same thought, irises darting down to your lips for the briefest of moments. Your body moves on it’s own, his lips hovering so closely that you can feel his warmth breath against your skin.

Your eyes flutter shut.

“We know who’s running the gathering! I couldn’t believe tha‒”

Jimin’s voice dies out as you and Namjoon break apart in an instant. There’s still a rapid hue of red radiating from your skin and Namjoon sheepishly stares at the ground, seemingly pretending that he's just simply standing next to you prior to the intrusion.

Jimin glances back and forth perplexed between the two of you as Seokjin shows up from behind him.

“Did I interrupt something…?”

“N-No!” You clear your throat immediately, waving your hands, “Y-You were saying…?

He stares back at you almost as if not fully convinced and Seokjin quirks up an amused brow at Namjoon, who has decided that staring at the ground while cursing underneath his breath is the right mode of action.

“Uh, well, as I was saying…” Jimin carefully says, noticing both Namjoon’s and your own attentive eyes shifting back to him, “We managed to figure out the identity of the person leading this gathering, and it’s someone you know very well.”

Namjoon tilts his head to the side and Seokjin slips him a photograph, his eyes widening.

“Hoseok?”

Jimin hums, “Apparently, he’s been keeping a low profile after Taehyung’s demise and associating with lesser known parties from your company, including the man that was after you.”

Seokjin hands him a picture of the man’s corpse, the very person you had shot, being seen conversing with Hoseok prior to the incident.

Namjoon peers around at the information with a scoff, glancing up at Jimin, “So you’re thinking that if we can find him, he’ll be able to provide us some answers.”

“More or less, but perhaps in a nicer way.” Jimin innocently grins, assuming that the shareholder will be kind enough to talk without any added persuasion.

Namjoon nods as Seokjin collects the evidence, carefully storing it away. Taking your hand, the four of you prepare to infiltrate the banquet.

***

It’s surprising grandiose for what was proposed as a quick get together.

A chandelier hangs low from the ceiling, illuminating conversing faces and greeting guests with the faintest of glows. There’s faces among the small groups that you don’t recognize right away, understanding the assumption Jimin gave that many of the individuals present are ones part of the business, but never indulged with outside of the company. It makes all of you on alert, patiently waiting for the man of the hour that has seemed to create an audience without their knowledge.

As your eyes roam around the crowd with intrigue, you’re taken aback for a moment. There is indeed unfamiliarity with the presence of those around you, but somehow the situation reminds you of the time you were first wedded to Namjoon, innocently presented as his wife to gawking eyes despite the fact that your own were scrutinizing their every trait.

Your eyes do continue to wander about in search of a person by your husband’s side, but at the same time, it’s different.

Your eyes glance over at Namjoon, who stands beside you as your hand is looped around his arm, not a single drop of naivety in his expression.

Eyes firmly set in stone, his jaw is tightened as his sharp gaze is on the brink of memorizing every single individual’s face.

A smile unknowingly rises on your lips, and when your hold on him tightens, Namjoon jostles and diverts his attention to you.

In an instant, his features soften, eyes gazing at you curiously. “Is something wrong?”

You hastily shake your head, “I was just remembering the gathering we attended after our marriage.”

A line draws in between his brows until a glimmer of light flickers, a breathtaking smile rising on his lips.

“When I introduced you to members in my company.” You nod as his eyes scan his surroundings, slowly comprehending the connection you’ve made.

He diverts his attention to you again, “Were you...nervous? From meeting all those people?”

“A little.” You admit, “I already knew who they all were and the stories behind their backgrounds.”

Namjoon hums, “I was mainly occupied with digging up information in those moments...”

“Did you feel nervous around me?”

“Um, not quite.” A chuckle leaves your lips and Namjoon’s eyes light up at the sound, curiously gazing at you, “I think to say, I was very taken aback when the heir to the Kim empire had a set of indoor plants he was tending to…”

A flush creeps onto Namjoon and the laughter slips out of you, raising your hand to cover your mouth. He eventually laughs with you, sheepishly shaking his head in embarrassment.

“It seems like I left quite the impression on you.”

He eyes you with a smile and you return it, sight landing back on the crowds of people immersed in conversation. There still isn’t any visibility of the Hoseok and with that, you slump down with a wistful sigh.

“You know,” Namjoon’s deep voice beckons you, “You look very beautiful tonight.”

Your eyes widen and you realize his stare is fixated on the jewel that sits on your neck before his eyes flicker up, meeting yours with a tender smile on his lips.

Despite knowing that Namjoon doesn’t shy away from giving compliments, there’s a heat that spreads over your skin as you abruptly grow bashful. However the moment you connect your gaze with his once again, your breath hitches in your throat.

There’s something brewing beneath his lids, his gaze feeling heavier than before. You can’t seem to look away, left wondering if he can see it reflected in your eyes.

You bite down on your bottom lip, a gesture his eyes are quick to follow with. His breathing becomes laboured and you can’t seem to recall if you were the one that shifted closer, but the moment Namjoon flutters his eyes shut and presses forward, there’s no hesitation on your part.

His lips collide with your own and you have to stifle back the moan that threatens to escape from you. In an instant, his hands are circling around your waist, one of them lifting up to firmly hold the nape of your neck in place. His kisses are a mixture of desperate yet passionate, clouding your mind into a complete daze.

You’re no longer able to contain the carnal urge that bubbles up, a soft sigh managing to leave your lips. Namjoon abruptly breaks apart from you, his chest heaving.

Your hand is suddenly grasped as you’re being roughly tugged away, head still swirling with heat. You’re only given the opportunity to register the sound of a door opening before being promptly slammed shut, your back falling right against the cold wood.

Within seconds, Namjoon’s lips are crashing against yours and this time you have no courtesy holding back the wanton moans that tumble from your mouth. Namjoon hungrily presses against you as your hands loop against his neck, kissing him back with just as much desperation.

His insatiable hands are roaming down your waist, the heat of his palms ghosting over your thighs. A gasp leaves your lips when he suddenly grunts and lifts you up, your fingers attempting to find secure purchase around his neck before you can topple over.

His lips are molding against yours in no time, his tongue slipping in with no reservations. You welcome the muscle into the heat of your caverns, mouths nearly battling against each other as if engaged within a ruthless warfare.

His mouth abruptly breaks apart from you, and before you have the chance to complain from the loss of contact, the scorching heat of his breath is washing over the skin of your neck. Your eyes lull back, your bottom lip becoming battered from your merciless biting. He unexpectedly suckles the juncture behind your ear, drawing out a breathy whine out from you.

A loud blare bursts through the room, and on the third ring, you tumble into Namjoon’s arms as he reluctantly places you down.

Namjoon yanks his phone out, his chest rising and falling as if he has been running through a marathon.

“What?”

The sharpness in his voice has your eyes peering upwards, attempting to catch your breath.

“What?” Namjoon suddenly says again, “He’s here?”

It’s transparent to you ‒ the way Namjoon is failing at steading his breath, eyes having taken upon a carnal appearance, but how he’s trying to think straight, desire-stricken eyes frantically darting around.

For some reason, it stirs up a painful ache in the pit of your stomach.

“Okay.” His voice sounds clearer now, accompanied with a hum, “Keep an eye on him, we’re coming.”

The line is cut off and Namjoon reaches his hand out for you, but it’s hard to ignore the way his eyes can’t seem to leave your form.

“Y/N?” He breathes out and your daze snaps, grasping onto him.

The door widens and you hurriedly rush out together.

134 notes · View notes

breadedsinner · 3 years

Text

Three Vampires and a Were-Bear (2/4): Vampire Dorian/Vampire Lavellan

Back in Kirkwall, Varric finds himself missing Skyhold and all the friends he made there. So he does what anyone would do: neglect his duties and write friend-fiction!

The Inquisitor in this story, Baelfire Lavellan, belongs to my best friend, Sloane!

You should check out their mods and support them!

Also on AO3!

***

Hooves thumped on the grass, fading with each step, as the young halla became a white speck in the deep mouth of the forest. The Dalish girl tried to keep up, but lost her breath, then lost sight of the halla. Nothing but trees that reached for the emerging stars, the sound of her own cries, and the expanding darkness.

"Wait, come back!" she yelled, her voice cracked with exhaustion. She reached out her hands and ran, with no regard how far she had gone from her clan. That no one was behind her.

The breath left her, and her throat became dry and raspy from calling out the for the halla. "Please!" she whimpered as she stopped in a clearing. She threw her hands on her knees, and tears and sweat dripped down from her flushed cheeks, and stained the grass.

A rustle creept through the bushes. She turned, hoping it was her lost friend, but it was too heavy and crass, its form nearly tearing apart the plants.

It was a human, dressed in furs, with a hunting knife and bow. The Dalish girl stepped back and gasped.

The human glanced at her with indifference. Two more hunters of similar dress and weaponry appeared. Grass and leaves crushed under their feet.

"You there," said one, pointing to the Dalish girl. "You seen one of those deer-thing?"

"No," she shook her head.

The same hunter paused. The girl could feel the ice in his stare. "I don't believe you. You were calling for one just now. Why else would a child go running into the woods, if not to chase a lost pet?"

"She's not a pet!"

"Ah, so you were lying," said the hunter. A crunch of leaves as he stepped forward. "Those creatures are very rare. Their pelts alone would make a huge fortune. You're going to help us find it."

"Never!"

The hunter came closer, kneeling down before the girl, while the other two chuckled. "Either we find this halla, or we find your home and make life difficult for everyone. So why don't you play nice?"

Tears welled up in the girl's eyes, but her ears perked at the shifting of trees. A chilled breeze danced through the leaves as purple shades of twilight crossed the sky.

A fog rolled in at their feet, a sudden bitter cold bristling at their backs. The hunters turned and found the fog tumbling from the shadows of the forest, spreading wider and deeper as night approached.

A mass of animals emerged from the shadow and fog. A fox scampered past, its high-pitched yips almost like laughter. Squirrels skittered up the trees, rabbits hopped through from stone to stone. The clearing no longer felt empty, but part of the forest again, reconnected, bursting with life.

A pair of bright eyes popped from the shadow, greener than every blade of grass in the forest. The hunters shivered at the site of them. There was no white to the eyes; only swirling verdant, wild green, peering into their souls.

As the shadows receded, an elf emerged; Dalish, like the girl, with interwoven markings of Mythal etched onto his forehead, crowning his cheekbones and nose. He blinked, and his eyes seemed to shrink, the whites reappeared. A shock of wild, curly red hair bounced as he walked. He was dressed in traditional Dalish hunting armor, a lean body with taut archer’s arms.

A few sparrows and owls fluttered past as he stopped walking. A small halla, its antlers still nubs on its white head, rubbed against his ankles.

The strange elf looked at the humans, then the girl, then looked down at the halla. The words came softly and slowly from his mouth. "There you are," he said. "Go on ahead, little one."

The halla bounced from the elf's side and back towards the girl. She scooped him up and embraced him.

"Thank you, thank you, Baelfire!" the girl squealed. "I'm sorry, I won't lose sight of him ever again!"

"Ah, no trouble at all," the elf, Baelfire, chuckled. The glint of his green eyes softened as he focused on the girl. As if the hunters did not exist in that moment. "He was just curious, that's to be commended. But do tell your clan where you're going next time. You know how your grandmother worries."

“I will, I promise!”

“Good girl. You should go home now,” he continued, his gaze turning from the lost girl to the human hunters. His eyes glowed a brilliant green, accentuated by the falling night. “It’s quite easy to get lost in these woods. And to never be heard from again,”.

Baelfire did not move or speak until the girl and her halla were gone, their little footsteps faded into nothing. When only the chirping of birds and shifting of the wind against leaves surrounded them, he turned to the human hunters.

"Leave this place," he said, the gentle lilt he used to speak to the girl was ironed flat. "I will take you to the border if you can't find your way, but this land was given back to the People by Divine Victoria."

The hunters all exchanged confused looks. "Victor-who?" said the first hunter. "You mocking us, elf?"

"Wait, no, I think I know that name," said the second hunter. "It was one of last Divines of the last age."

"What?" scoffed the third. "I don't give a shit about what some old woman from a hundred years ago said."

"Not a hundred,” said Baelfire, already exasperated, rubbing his temples. “But her word still stands, last I checked. Turn back, there's plenty of forest for you to hunt, but not here."

"Not a chance," said the third hunter. "This place is untouched, it's prime territory. There must be more of those halla."

"It is untouched by humans, and that's how it will say. I will ask you one more time. Leave, and don't come back."

"Aha, I think he's trying to threaten you!" cackled the first hunter.

"That so?" said the third, cracking his knuckles, the shadow of his tall bulky form cast far over Baelfire.

In the darkness of the shadow, his eyes turned full green. Ridges formed on the bridge of his freckled nose. His fiery red hair stood on their ends, frizzling with wild energy.

The hunter raised a hand, but Baelfire pounced on him like a cat. He wrung the edges of his collar and lunged for his neck. Fangs popped from his mouth and pierced the skin like needles into cloth.

"Ahhh!" the hunter screamed, running frantically, flailing his form back and forth. "Get him off me! get him, ah..."

A few moments of frantic shaking, and the hunter was too consumed by pain to scream, his voice dwindled to cries and whimpers. Then his body fell to the ground, a white sack of compost.

The other two hunters grabbed their weapons and sprinted towards their fallen partner, but the first one yelped. The second one barely registered the sound of a body dragging along the grass, of fists fruitlessly trying to grip the grasp, instead pulling blades out from the dirt. By the time the second one could turn around to look, his other partner was gone, a path of torn grass and dirt where he once stood. There was frantic rustling and screaming among the bushes behind, until there was none.

The second hunter turned back. One partner was ghastly pale, a single twitching finger as the Dalish man gnawed on a gaping, bloody gnash on his neck. The other was completely out of sight.

So, he ran in the other direction. He dropped his axe and ran, panting. He did not get far before a whoosh of wind and shadow, a wisp of light and glaring fangs.

A human man, dressed in blazing black and gold finery, the likes of which the hunter had never seen. The moustache was precise and prim, curling just so on his young face. The hunter almost sighed in relief to see another human, even one so strangely dressed. But then this human's eyes were enveloped in light, and his nose creased and furrowed, the same way the Dalish man’s did.

"What the..." the last remaining hunter pedaled back and the elf. His chin was slathered in blood.

"Ah, there you are, Amatus," said the strange human. "And you got us dinner! Why, you shouldn't have!"

“I would have found something better,” Baelfire sighed. “But I got sidetracked.”

“We need not feast like kings every night. Just most nights! Now, go on and have your first bite. You found him, after all.”

“No, you go ahead.”

“I insist, you bite first!”

“No, please, I want you to go first.”

“What the shit are you two!” yelled the hunter.

Baelfire and the strange new man looked at each other, shared a little laugh, then reached for the last living hunter, their fangs jutted from their mouths at the same time, planted on each side of the hunter’s neck. His screams were washed away by a flock of birds bursting from the tree tops.

“I knew that girl,” said Baelfire, leaning against Dorian’s shoulders as they sat on a branch, watching the stars spread across the sky. “Well, that is, I was friends with her great, great… ah, I’m losing track of the great’s. When I was part of clan Lavellan…”

“You still are,” said Dorian, planting a kiss on Baelfire’s bushy head. “You’ve been watching over them for quite some time.”

“I don’t think they really need me. It’s not like three random hunters wandering in with short bows would have done much.”

“They might have hurt that girl. They may not rely on you, but they know you watch over them, and they love you for it.”

“Maybe. I like to just… come by every few years, see how things are doing. Helps keep me grounded, I guess.” Baelfire looked out into the sky. “Do you think… you want to live forever? I mean, we CAN die, but we don’t get sick or die. Just… watching things change, seeing people grow up then grow old…it’s sad, sometimes.”

“Hmm,” Dorian chewed on his lip. “I rather like seeing things change. For the better, mostly. Like the things we did long ago rippled, and we’re still watching it go. Eternity? Perhaps not. Perhaps one day, we may be ready to put this world behind us and explore what’s next. We’ll embrace by a balcony overlooking the sunrise, as we did in Skyhold so long ago, and share one last kiss as the sun’s light causes us to combust like beautiful, fleshy fireworks.”

“Aww, you’re so romantic,” Baelfire tucked himself in closer into Dorian’s shoulder. “I love you. I’m glad you’re here with me.”

“There’s no one else I’d spend millennia with, Amatus.”

***

The words trailed off, and the ink dried. Varric looked at his notes, scattered with the Official Letters to the Viscount. He took each page and patted them together.

“Hmm, not sure how I came up with this,” he said to himself. Then he looked out the window, watching birds graze Kirkwall’s horizon, and sighed. “Maybe Freckles will get a kick out of it when I see him next time. Hope he and Sparkler aren’t strangers…”

#Dragon Age #Dorian Pavus #Lavellan #pavellan #dorian x inquisitor #dorian x lavellan #The Inquisitor #Dragon Age: Inquisition #DAI #My Words #Fanfiction #Writing Tag

13 notes · View notes