#Every now and then I get fed up with life and struggle against my chains | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yandere-sins · 3 years

Note

Hi!! I loved your recent Sakusa work sm! It was so good and intense and you did a great job!! I was wondering, if the requests & prompts are still open can you do board games & diary for either Sakusa or Atsumu! I’m fine with either one <3

Sorry, I am just too much into both to separate them! Enjoy some good ol’ manipulated double-teaming!

Board games - “Don’t say such means things.. it breaks my heart to put you back in those locks.”

Diary - “My pet should hold no secrets from their owner and vice versa.”

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

It was a hard pill to swallow, but you had to admit that you were growing desperate.

For more than a week now, you had been in the clutches of these two maniacs, had to live through ups and downs with them and alone. Yet, there still didn’t seem to be any signs of an end to this nightmarish episode you were going through. Slowly but surely, this meant you were desperate for change. For something - anything! - to happen, just so all of this would finally end.

You found yourself desperate for the comfort of a bed, the privacy of your own toilet, the warmth of a sweater. Sometimes your mouth remembered your favorite dishes, and your heart remembered the feeling of hugging someone dear to you. And, every time you found yourself craving the same as you had before your life went downhill, all you were faced with were two psychos using your needs for their own gain.

At least, that’s what you thought about this situation.

“Come on! It’s good!” Atsumu tried to make the spoon of soup palatable for you, as he had for the last two days. He did his best, but his best wasn’t good enough for you. Lips pressed together into a thin line, you kept avoiding the spoon, going as far as to dodge and move out of the way of his reach. You’d rather fall to the floor than sit on this couch and eat the damn soup, you decided. Were you not too afraid of the other ghost in this apartment, you would have tried making a run for the hallway and the front door, but they were too unpredictable.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” you sobbed, the frown on your face holding back the tears you felt burning in your eyes ever since you woke up in this place. “We’ve been friends since our childhood! But I guess I didn’t mean anything to you.”

Finally slipping out of his grip, you fell to your knees, the cold, hard parquet being as unwelcoming as you felt. Atsumu’s disgruntled deep breath was absolutely unjustified how you found. After all, he wasn’t the one being held captive against his will. Of all the people, you were the only one allowed to showcase your discontent like that.

Next to you, Atsumu set down the bowl of soup on the coffee table, a strong, firm grip reaching down to the rope binding your wrists behind your back. Anything was better than letting him do as he pleased. Kicking, screaming, and biting if necessary! But by now, you two were playing a meager game of who was stronger, the lack of sustainable food and rest being one reason why you didn’t always have the upper hand in these situations; thus, he pulled you up on the couch again easily.

“Don’t say such mean things... you mean everything to me, [Name].”

This assurance was least helpful to the constant anxiety raging through you. Before all this, you had trusted Atsumu with everything. You’d been the best friend one could have, got along well with his family. It had been bold of you to assume that he was capable of anything beyond complaining to and nagging you, but you always hoped that he’d one day come to understand the feelings you harbored for him.

But not like this. You didn’t want to be loved by him like this.

“Be nice, or I’ll have to put you back in those metal locks. It would break my heart, and you don’t like them either, do ya?”

You shivered just from thinking about the chains clasping around your wrists and ankles, cold and tight. You hated them, just as much as the cage you had been stuck in for the first few nights. Everything kept you in place. You couldn’t even turn if you wanted. It was followed by constant pain, and having someone treat you like a caged animal rather than a human while you were in there, was only the cherry on top.

Compared to that, just hanging out in the living room with ropes around your wrists was freedom. “No,” you whispered, the fight not having disappeared from your voice, and you were relieved to still have it in you. “See?” Atsumu sighed, pulling you back on the couch and between his legs, arms wrapping around you and keeping you pressed up against him. “It’ll be fine,” he mumbled, kissing the back of your head.

“Just don’t upset him.”

“Upset who?” another voice echoed through the room as if on cue. Instinctively your eyes followed the sound to the kitchen. Through the connecting door to the hallway, Sakusa entered, newspaper in hand and seemingly reading an article on it. “Nobody,” Atsumu was quick to avert, but you had felt the slight flinch he made when his partner spoke up.

“Did they eat?” Sakusa asked, unbothered by the angry glare you sent him and Atsumu’s lie, setting down both paper and coffee mug on the kitchen counter before shifting his attention to you. Three long steps were all he needed to approach the couch from behind, fingers flitting up your throat and to your jaw as he grazed you with a short glance before eyeing the bowl on the table.

“Done with work?” Atsumu asked, pressing you possessively closer to him, but it wasn’t like he could upset Sakusa with his doings, even if it was his intention. “Taxes, Atsumu, but yes. They didn’t eat?”

At that, Atsumu finally had to admit defeat, sighing and averting his eyes to some point in the room but far away from you or his partner. Sakusa let out the same sound, though quieter and with a shook of his head before rounding the couch and grabbing the bowl himself. “Why won’t you eat?” he asked, directing his questions to you now. “You should be thankful for the food you are given.”

“I don’t want it,” you replied, as confident as you could. The truth was that whenever your eyes met, you felt as if any strength you had was pulled from you. It may have been due to the fact you had argued and pleaded with this man for the first few days of your kidnapping, but out of the two, Sakusa was the one that scared you more than your childhood friend who had no backbone, joining forces with this madman.

Letting the soup slide over and from the spoon a few times, Sakusa eventually took a small sip of it, his thoughts hidden well behind the indifference in his expression. “There’s no reason for you to not eat it. It’s completely fine.”

“I don’t want it since it’s you giving it to me.”

Silence raked through the room while Atsumu shuffled behind your back, pressing you closer again. For a moment, you thought this time, it might be to protect you, rather for his own pleasure, and you were quick to realize why. “Are you an idiot?” was Sakusa’s short yet meaningful reply to your defiance, his face scrunching up into disbelieve. “Other people would be happy to have this kind of luxury of being fed.”

“Omi...” Atsumu tried to settle the rising dispute, but a raised hand from his teammate was enough to shut him up uncomfortably. “I’m not other people,” you spoke up for yourself, trying to stay calm and not let him agitate you. “After all, I have to be locked up with you two crazy bastards.”

This time, the silence felt like an eternity. As if it was slowly but surely cutting through your body as if you were butter. Perhaps, you had been too comfortable simply refusing and struggling against them for the last two days, so your mind had already started to forget about the horror you were living in.

“So that’s what you think about us,” was all that Sakusa hissed back at you, his eyes drilling into your psyche like nails. Behind you, Atsumu opened his mouth again, perhaps to set you straight, but no word ever left him, Sakusa being faster than him. “No, it’s fine. A pet should hold no secrets from their owner and vice versa.”

You didn’t expect him to be the first one to avert his eyes, Sakusa’s gaze wandering back to the door in the back of the living room, the very same one you had woken up in before. The one that was filled with ‘your’ kennel and restraints and an unbelievable amount of deprecation. “So I will be very honest with you too.”

Next thing you knew, Sakusa was up again, having reached for your hands still locked between yours and Atsumu’s body. This time, when you fell to the floor, it was anything but controlled, your ass being the first to hit the resistance of the ground, and you gasped in pain as your shoulder slammed into the coffee table. There wasn’t enough time to grasp how your body hurt at that moment, the back of your shirt being tugged at, the fabric pressing into your throat at the front as you were dragged over the floor gasping for air.

“You will be thankful for what we do for you in the future. You don’t have any choice. Until then, you’ll stay in your cage and think about your behavior. Don’t even think about making a ruckus, or you won’t live to see what I will do to you, do you understand?”

Instantly, the dread of feeling the cold, uncomfortable bars against your body made your heart drop in your chest. You couldn’t even get used to the darkness in the boarded-up room without sunlight from the windows when you already heard the lock fall into place.

“No! NO!” you cried out, forgetting all about his warning and slamming yourself towards the only source of light coming from the open door to the living room. “Don’t leave me here again! Please!”

It was pathetic. Using big words just seconds prior to this, and yet, here you were pleading with him to spare you the agony of this place. But despite not wanting to be here, in this apartment, you had a special dislike of being confined in this cold, tiny space all by yourself. You’d rather hang out on the couch, unproductively watching TV with Atsumu all weekend long than having to listen to the clicking of the clock as the only companion you had in this room. You, actually begging to not be left here, was just proof of how desperate you were, scared of the anxiety and degradation you had experienced last time.

“You’ll have enough time to think about your behavior here,” Sakusa sighed, annoyed by your screams. “Learn your place.”

“I do! I know... I just...”

“You know nothing.”

“Omi...” you suddenly heard from the door. Unsure, gripping onto his own arm, Atsumu stood there, the light revealing a conflicted expression playing on his face. “That’s just... It’s too much, man,” he mumbled, and Sakusa let out another deep sigh.

“I told you it wouldn’t be easy, Atsumu. You can still get out if you don’t think you can do it, but don’t pull me down with you. I won’t tell anyone about your involvement if that worries you.”

Standing up, Sakusa seemed to glide out of the shadow, approaching Atsumu who’s gaze shifted from you to his partner in crime. “I’ll take good care of them,” Sakusa promised, though his voice was so indifferent, you had trouble believing that he meant it. “No...” Atsumu eventually spoke up after a moment of contemplation. “I love them just as much- No, I love them more than you. I can’t leave now.”

“Then you understand that this is necessary, right?”

For the first time, as you looked into Atsumu’s eyes, you felt the hints of pity come over you, your old friend looking like a beaten dog next to Sakusa. You barely could believe that Atsumu listened to the manipulative words of someone who should have no rule over your both lives. Someone who didn’t hide how toxic he was at all, but it seemed like Atsumu ate out of his hand as Sakusa held it out to him.

One hand patting Atsumu’s shoulder, Sakusa turned around to you, his scolding, suppressing gaze making you lose all hope of escaping this. He reached for the doorknob, and the only thing you could do was try to reach out, fingers curling into the bars of the kennel, your voice cracking as you called out, “Atsu--”

But you were cut off by the darkness now filling the room, seeping into your throat through your open mouth as you wanted to call out to your childhood friend to save you. Because he loved you, he said so himself. His reason to be here was you, so he was as good as anyone to protect you from this hell you found yourself in. You were desperate enough to even believe in him after everything Atsumu did to you.

Only, what you hadn’t realized so far, was that he had been manipulated into this, as Sakusa was now trying to do to you.

And perhaps, that meant there was no saving for either of you.

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charincharge · 3 years

Note

for holiday prompts: "just open the damn present" and/or someone slips on some ice and the other conveniently catches them

rowaelin high school bff au: past-take masterlist

AN: Happy Holidays from these idiot best friends, who have pined through so many years of their life it’s almost hysterically funny to write. Here’s a 7th grade past-take for you. Thanks for being on this ride! xoxo.

Aelin struggled to catch her breath as she took her bow. Her pulse raced with excitement as the applause swirled around her, a raucous wave of noise congratulating her for her months of hard work, as she lowered her pointe-shoe clad foot behind her and curtseyed deeply. Opening night had gone amazing. She’d nailed every fouetté, every pirouette, every lift. She felt like she was floating on air.

Through the glare of the spotlight, she spotted her dad, whooping loudly as he leapt to his feet, and Rowan beside him, his hands clapping wildly. Her stomach flipped at the sight of her best friend’s smile, and she couldn’t help but return it as she walked back to the side of the stage, making way for the rest of the principals to take their bows.

She clapped dutifully as they finished their curtain call, trying not to rush too fast off stage as soon as the curtain dropped.

She barely paused to untie her pointe shoes and toss them in her ballet bag, swapping them for a pair of cozy socks. She was about to rush out the stage door in her costume when the company director tsked in her direction. She nodded her head in apology and removed her fancy dress, hanging it up in her cubby. As fast as she could, she put on her clothes, a pair of comfy leggings and a warm sweater, grabbed her things, and went in search of her dad and best friend. She hadn’t seen her friends in weeks. After getting cast as Clara, her entire life suddenly belonged to ballet, and she really missed seeing him. It was an incredible role, and she’d auditioned three years in a row to finally get it – but the more she danced, the more she realized that she missed the balance of her normal life. Missed spending time with Rowan.

“There’s my beautiful ballerina,” Rhoe said, pulling Aelin into his arms with no hesitation. Aelin grinned as her dad pressed a kiss to her heavily hairsprayed hair. “You were spectacular,” he said, handing her a giant bouquet of flowers.

“Thanks, Dad,” she said, her brightly colored cheeks heating as she spotted Rowan waiting beside her dad, his foot tapping rapidly as he looked her over. She tried to squash her blush, but it was nearly impossible with Rowan’s smiling face so close.

Having a crush on her best friend was super annoying. It’d been over a year since she realized she liked him, but each day got harder, not easier to deal with her feelings. She hated the way she was suddenly nervous around him, unsure if she was smiling too much or too little or laughing too hard or what her hair looked like; she’d never been self-conscious, but now she couldn’t help but wish that she’d washed her stage makeup off before seeing him. She must look crazy.

“Simply amazing, hon!” Aunt Maeve cooed, pulling Aelin into her arms, squeezing her tightly. “I had no idea you could dance like that,” she said, and Aelin nodded again, trying to keep her breathing even as Rowan finally stepped forward to hug her himself.

“I knew,” A large smile appeared on his face as he stepped away, and Aelin could feel her stomach flip at the close contact between them.

“You weren’t bored?” Aelin asked, and Rowan shook his head emphatically side to side. “I know I barely danced for twenty minutes.”

“Not even close.”

Aelin beamed at her best friend, who had sat through the three-hour ballet, just to watch her perform on opening night. Ballet wasn’t exactly Rowan’s favorite, but it meant the world to her that they all came to watch her in her big starring role.

“Should we go back to the restaurant?” Maeve asked. “I have some peppermint brownies that need tasting…”

“Yes!” Aelin begged, her stomach growling with hunger. She had been so nervous before her performance that she’d forgone dinner, and new experimental baked goods from Maeve’s sounded perfect.

She shrugged on her coat, and as she lifted her ballet bag to her shoulder, Rowan reached out. “I’ll take that.” She narrowed her eyes at him, but he simply shrugged. “A star never carries her own bags,” he laughed.

“Thanks,” she laughed at his ridiculous offer.

Aelin felt him following her all the way back to the car, hovering just behind her. It was slightly unnerving. Now that she was coming down from her performance high, the only adrenaline pulsing in her system was from her best friend’s proximity. She knew it.

She tried to walk faster to escape the strange feeling of him being so close behind her, but in her efforts to put distance between them, she missed the patch of ice coating the parking lot, and her foot slipped out from beneath her.

Her yelp was cut short, her arms bracing herself for a fall that never came, as Rowan’s strong arms wrapped around her waist. She inhaled sharply as his hands slid up, helping her back to standing. All she could feel was her heart pounding wildly.

“Careful, Ace,” he chuckled softly, his eyes flicking to her legging-clad legs. “It’d be a real shame if you only got to dance opening night after all these months of practice.”

She nodded, attempting a smile as she righted herself and got into the car. She tried to ignore the way he slid in after her, shoving herself against the window as far as she could, trying to put some space between them in the cramped backseat of Maeve’s car.

They arrived at the restaurant quickly, and Aelin smiled as Maeve lit up the space, the twinkle lights on the tree in the corner and twisted around garlands brightening the place immediately.

“You two sit,” Aunt Maeve ordered. “I’ll heat up the brownies.” She pointed to Rhoe. “And for us, bourbon vanilla chai?”

Rhoe clapped loudly. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

As the adults scuttled around the kitchen, Aelin took a seat in the cozy armchair by the window. It was dark purple, and she sank right in happily. She expected Rowan to take the seat across from her immediately, but instead he held up a finger and said, “Wait here.”

He returned quickly with a small package, wrapped in red paper and tied with a white ribbon. Aelin blinked and then blinked again as he placed the box on the small table between them and finally took his seat in the opposing chair.

Aelin looked down at the present and then back at Rowan, who was looking at her with wide green eyes.

“What’s this?” Aelin asked, poking the paper gently with her finger, and Rowan rolled his eyes.

“It’s a present.”

Aelin nodded, her stomach swirling wildly. “I can see that.”

She stared at the present nervously, as if it would explode if she opened it, and she could hear Rowan start to huff, annoyed at her reticence.

“For me?” she asked, wondering if maybe it was for Aunt Maeve and he just wanted to ask her if she’d liked how he’d wrapped it. Which, for the record, she did. It was beautifully wrapped, the ribbon pulled into a perfect bow, criss-crossing around the gift elegantly.

“Of course it is,” Rowan huffed again, and she could practically see him crossing his arms, fed up with her questioning, even though her eyes were still trained on the present between them.

“Rowan.” She paused and finally looked up. His wide eyes had narrowed, and there was a slight pout on his lips. “I didn’t get you anything,” she said. That was their rule. They didn’t exchange presents on holidays or birthdays. They’d decided early on in their friendship that it was too much pressure, and they didn’t need to get each other presents – they were content to share memories of spending those days together. They didn’t need things. That was their rule.

As if he finally realized what she was saying, Rowan started sputtering quickly. “It’s not a Christmas present!” he insisted. “It’s an opening night present. So, I haven’t broken any rules.” Aelin narrowed her eyes skeptically at his loophole.

“But now I feel bad that I don’t have anything for you,” she sighed.

Rowan rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated with her. “Ace, I watched you audition for this role for the last two years, and you finally got it. And you worked really hard, and it showed. That’s why I got it for you, okay? That’s it,” he said.

“But—” Aelin started to protest, but Rowan wasn’t having any of it.

“Ace,” he whined. “Just open the damn present.”

“Fine,” she snapped, though inside her heart was beating wildly with anticipation. She untied the bow with deft fingers, and quickly retied it in her still curled hair, making the edges of Rowan’s mouth curl upwards as she tied the bow at the top of her head.

She giggled at his expression. “Do I look stupid?” she asked. “I forgot to take off my stage makeup.”

“You look great,” Rowan assured her, his eyes darting back down to the wrapped box, and Aelin smiled, satisfied with his answer, before leaning down and carefully opening the small box.

She pushed the paper aside and lifted the lid of the white box inside, gasping at the sparkling snowflake hanging from a chain inside.

“Oh,” she breathed softly, hanging the necklace off her finger, watching it shine glittering patterns across the glass as the soft light of the roof refracted off of it. “This is… really pretty,” she said, her voice quiet as she watched the delicate pendant sway gently mid-air. Really pretty was an understatement. It was beautiful, spectacular, resplendent, and a whole slew of other vocabulary words that were racing through Aelin’s brain.

She looked past the necklace to her best friend, who watched her with a hawk-like intensity.

“I tried to look for a nutcracker necklace,” he said quickly, “But they were all so ugly. None of them looked like you,” he explained. “And I knew there were snowflakes in the ballet, but I didn’t know if you danced with them or not,” he raced out. “And now I know you don’t, but it can still remind you of tonight, right?”

His cheeks were flushed from his rushed explanation, and she smiled and nodded shyly at her friend, who was usually the quiet one between them. But Aelin didn’t even have the words. It was perfect.

“Will you help me put it on?” she asked, chewing on her bottom lip nervously as she waited for him to reply.

He didn’t respond, and she held her breath as he took the chain from her finger and started to unclasp it. Aelin sat up as straight as she could, shoulders back and neck stretched as she lifted her heavy sprayed curls off her back.

Her breath stuttered as she saw the snowflake come down in front of her face, resting just above the neckline of her sweater, and she suppressed a shiver as she felt Rowan’s warm fingers brush against her skin as he reclasped the necklace. Oh my gods. She’d never felt so warm and cold all at the same time. She bit her lip to keep from grinning to widely and giving herself away, as she was sure he could see her reflection in the window in front of them.

“Done,” he said, and Aelin’s heart took off racing as he sat back down and smiled at her.

“Now I look perfect,” she said, finally freeing her bottom lip and smiling back. They sat there smiling at each other, two mirror images of contentedness until a plate of brownies was placed between them.

Startled, Aelin looked back up at Aunt Maeve, who was grinning widely herself as she glanced between the two friends. Aelin was sure she was about to say something horribly embarrassing about how pink her cheeks were or how wide her smile was, but instead Maeve leaned down and kissed the top of Rowan’s head, causing his own face to redden.

“I hope you’re hungry,” she said, pointing to the delicious smelling brownies.

“Starving,” Aelin said, already reaching for the biggest piece. She shoved the baked good into her face, only slowing her chewing when she realized Rowan hadn’t eaten one yet. “What?” she asked between crumb-filled bites.

“You really like it?” he asked, his eyes flickering down to the sparkling necklace.

She put her hand over it. “I love it,” she said emphatically, still chewing. “But don’t expect I’m going to start buying you presents just because you got me one,” she said, furrowing her brow. “Christmas is next week, and I have too many performances to try and go shopping before then.” She paused.

“Of course,” Rowan laughed, finally reaching for a brownie himself. “Besides, I don’t need a present,” he laughed, reaching over and tugging at the bow on the top of her head. “I have you.”

Aelin smiled and took another bite of her brownie. She’d never take this necklace off as long as she lived.

~*~

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#rowaelin #i don't want to wait au #out take #past take #charincharge writes #high school au #tog fanfic #holiday prompt

225 notes · View notes

whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

aquarium ii | kth

pairing(s): taehyung x reader; ex-jungkook x reader

summary: Life after Jeon Jungkook was grey. You had to find your own color, grow your own rainbow. But what would surprise you the most is the appearance of white cosmos, seven of them clutched tightly in Kim Taehyung’s hand.

warnings: reader discretion is advised: a (half-hearted) suicide attempt; mentions of cheating in previous relationship; language; heavy angst; fluffiest fluff; non-idol!AU; kind garden-loving landlord!Taehyung x reader; ft. sadboi!Jungkook

–

part i

now playing – without me by halsey ft. JUICE WRLD

tell me, how's it feel sittin' up there? feelin’ so high, but too far away to hold me

You couldn’t remember that night very well, because you didn’t come up.

The worst part about being cheated on was not the actual cheating. It was the moment where you thought you had done something wrong, like somehow it was your fault it happened, like if you hadn’t done this or that, maybe things would have been different. Maybe if you hadn’t chosen that night to snoop into Jeon Jungkook’s phone, he would have had second thoughts, deleted it all, and loved you again. Maybe if you were a little kinder, a little more attentive, he wouldn’t have fallen out of love with you. Maybe... Maybe.

Maybe.

You knew that was just your brain trying to rationalize his irrationality. You had done wrong by invading his privacy by acting on sheer gut feeling. And you had run away, without confronting it, without giving him a chance, because you knew, you knew that if you gave him a chance, you would believe all his words, get dragged back into his sea, back into those dangerous waters.

All these thoughts coursed through you as the water closed in.

The milky bathwater was slowly replacing your depleting air, leaking into your lungs and you didn’t fight it, turning the darkness of the underside of your eyelids into light, because deep down you still loved him, no matter how stupid or foolish it was. Your heart still clung to his soft, I’m sorry, and you didn’t want to hear it anymore.

You didn’t want to know what loving Jeon Jungkook was like anymore. It was too painful.

you know i'm the one who put you up there name in the sky, does it ever get lonely?

You gave everything so he could be what he wanted to be, not knowing that you were the one slowly being eroded. No one could tell you. You were the one who had to find the signs. You were the one who found yourself trapped in glass walls, stuck in an aquarium, surrounded on all sides by Jeon Jungkook as he made a mockery of your feelings.

You screamed into the water and no one heard you.

The next memory you had was hazy, barely there.

You felt a tightness in your chest, harsh, solid pressure. A frustrated, agonized voice above you, desperately calling your name in deep baritone, desperately asking you to come back, praying in every language he knew for you to come back, come back, please, please, please.

“Please…”

In the whiteness, you wandered. Were you meant to be here? It was a loose fog. You looked around, seeing traces of memory like torn book pages, slipping through the haze. You reached out to touch them and they disappeared, only mirages.

And then you fell, dragged into dark blue, torn, battered, lungs burning as you struggled to stay afloat, coughing hard, your muscles screaming with asphyxiation, sudden oxygen flooding your brain. You whipped your head to the side, hacking up water, spilling it all over the green tiles of the bathroom floor, head pounding. Thoughts swimming, barely computing the shouting above you.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” one voice growled above your jerking body, so venomous that it made your blood run cold. “You absolute disaster of a man, thinking for one fucking second she would even consider taking you back. Look at her! She’d rather drown herself in my damn bathtub than hold a conversation with you!”

“What the fuck do you know?” The familiar voice, the voice that haunted you in your nightmares, the voice that fed you sweet poison. “She would do anything for me! She worships the fucking ground I walk on!”

You curled up into a ball, head pounding by the sudden explosion of light and sound. There was a towel over you, covering your wet naked body, and yet you shivered. You barely registered Kim Taehyung snarling, rising to his feet.

“You narcissistic bastard,” Taehyung spat out. “Get the fuck out of my house. Get the fuck out and don’t ever come near her again or I’ll break your fucking neck.”

“You can’t do anything to me. You’re a nobody,” Jeon Jungkook taunted. “Unlike you, I actually have money to sue you for assault.”

Apparently, Taehyung did not give a single shit, because he immediately roared and launched himself past you, the brown ball slamming into the black wall. You blinked, trying to register what was happening, but it was too much for you and your brain that was slowly trying to restore function due to lack of oxygen. They tumbled down the stairs and you laid your head against the floor, hearing the grunts and shouting, wondering why Taehyung had come back.

Wondering how he knew.

You closed your eyes.

In your dreams, you saw the soft sunlight glowing against Taehyung’s tan skin as he reached down to retrieve a dark green cucumber to show you. It was a bit wonky and hadn’t grown quite right, but you watched Taehyung tap it and smile to himself.

“Doesn’t matter what it looks like on the outside,” he said cheerfully. “I know it will still taste delicious because I gave it love.”

You tried to go back to work, but it was awful.

You loved your work. Perhaps it was boring to others, accounting all day, but it was mundane and peaceful, always knowing what you had to do. You never had to question the numbers. The numbers were what they were and that was that.

But now when you stared out into the grey urban jungle, it pained you.

What once was your safe haven turned into your cage, chaining you to clock in, clock out. You would go home to a motel nearby, crying into unfamiliar, starched sheets, pitying housekeepers preparing your meals, asking you what was wrong and you couldn’t tell them.

Because you didn’t know.

i'm sad inside, but i know it's for the best, right? you had to realize where you drew the line

You didn’t check his social media. You didn’t check his Twitch, his Instagram, his Twitter. You got a new phone, only giving your new number to your work and your parents. With a start, you realized you hadn’t contacted your old high school friends in years. You had lost them all, committing social suicide for Jeon Jungkook. In fact, you had no social media presence, so there was no need to download those apps.

There was nothing on your old phone that you wanted. It sat in the storage unit, forgotten. You didn’t want to turn on your old phone to see the photos, the lock screen of his arms around you, smile on his face from two years ago.

A smile you didn’t even know was real or fake.

i still hate it when you’re not there

You tried to tell yourself you were fine, because moping over Jeon Jungkook was stupid. But you had invested so much. You had given him everything. It was hard to regrow. You were stuffed in this tiny motel room, staring out to the hazy, polluted city, yellow sunlight fighting to be seen.

You sat by the window, clutching your pink flats, remembering Taehyung’s last words to you before you left.

“I looked up the brand and bought you some new ones,” he had said sheepishly. “I felt bad that they got so ruined, all because I asked you to help me with the garden.” He gave you that big, boxy smile. “Just think of them as a parting gift for being such a great tenant.”

You inhaled a deep breath, placing the pale pink flats next to the exact same style but grass-stained, greyed-out, worn ones. You stared at them both.

And made a choice.

“I thought I would never see you again.”

You lifted your head. The scent of flowers, so familiar and comforting, wafted around you, a reassuring embrace. You were wearing a long-sleeved white dress, a brown ribbon around the collar. The pink flats, the ones the owner of the deep baritone voice had gifted you.

That was nearly six months ago now. You had since thrown away the other ones.

Kim Taehyung walked up to you. He was wearing brown overalls and a cream shirt, elbows smeared with dirt. His skin had lightened due to the passing winter, but it was spring now. The flower shop was very busy, but there were other employees, and Taehyung was fixated on you.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” Taehyung said quietly, his brown eyes shimmering. “I would have come here a lot more often if I knew.”

You bit you lip and bowed your head politely, smiling at him. Taehyung coughed and rubbed the back of his head, messing up his dark brown hair. It was longer and curlier now, desperately needing a trim.

“I… I came to get carnations. The shop I normally go to ran out.”

You nodded, leading him wordlessly to the red and pink carnations. There was still a good number left, but you had to pick through carefully to find the most beautiful ones for him. He watched you work, chewing on his lip. You held up the large bouquet to him.

“What do you think?” you asked softly.

He smiled at you. “Perfect.” He didn’t ask the price. “Could you make two corsages out of a few of them?”

“Of course. Right this way.”

You brought him to one of the counters, selecting a few blooms to make the corsages. You showed him the available ribbons and he picked a thin, sheer white one. He watched you work, quickly, but delicately, careful not to bruise the petals.

“You became an expert about flowers,” he remarked. “I’m still struggling.”

You smiled. “I’m still learning. It’s very different from what I used to do.” You twisted the ribbon into a perfect bow, using floral wire to secure it.

“You don’t talk to him anymore, do you?”

You shook your head. “Haven’t seen him since that day you threw him down your stairs.”

Taehyung laughed a little too loud, making the patrons stare at him. He coughed nervously, cramming the crumpled brown hat under his arm onto his head. You placed your hand over your lips, trying to hide your chuckle. Your fingertips smelled like phloem sap from the cut stems, sweet and grassy.

Taehyung gazed at you, surrounded by flowers, carnations laid out on the counter.

“Will you… let me take a picture of you?”

You blinked at him, lips parting.

Taehyung reached into his pocket, pulling out an old 35mm film camera. He looked sheepish as he held it up, hesitating.

“Sorry, I just… you look so beautiful, and I don’t want to forget that.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “I know it’s a weird habit. But I like to take pictures and I never took one of you.” He looked deep into your eyes.

“I really regret not taking a picture of you.”

Your fingers were still over your mouth. You nodded.

Taehyung held the camera up and snapped a photo.

“He waits for you to get off work every day. It’s been a week now.”

The manager was teasing you, nudging your arm as you tugged on your long camel coat. You smiled at her, an old woman with knowing eyes that had seen and enjoyed a lot of life. Taehyung waved across the street as you made eye contact with him.

“There aren’t men like him anymore, you know,” she said gently. “These kinds of things happened in my generation, but now young people send pictures of flowers instead of the real thing.”

When you thanked the manager and walked out to Taehyung, he held out a small bundle of tiny flowers to you. White cosmos. You stopped, surprised. Breathless as you looked up at him. He was illuminated by a streetlight and the dying sun, the golden hour matching his golden skin. Holding out the white cosmos, shivering in the spring breeze.

“They’re not that pretty,” he said guiltily, stepping up to you. “I’ve been trying to grow flowers for months now and these are the only ones that survived, ahahaha…”

He scratched his head, brushing his hair back.

“I always hoped that if I saw you again, I could show you that I was able to finally grow flowers.” Taehyung laughed, shrugging apologetically. “This is all I got.”

You reached out and took the small bundle from him. They were a bit curled and slightly wilted from being carried around but you smiled at them.

“No one has ever grown flowers for me,” you said quietly.

The tiny yellow centers of each flower were surrounded by white. You counted seven. Taehyung had given you seven flowers. Seven flowers he grew on his own, because he wanted to show you. You placed your fingers on your mouth, the scent of the floral shop returning to you with the action. Your chest felt tight and full, a feeling unlike any other.

“I wanted to grow at least eight,” Taehyung lamented. “Because that would be luckier, but…”

You shook your head quickly, looking up at him. Him and his beautiful brown eyes, a small patch of dirt underneath his cheek. He probably didn’t even know it was there.

“No.”

You removed your hand from your lips and smiled at him.

“Seven is perfect.”

You threw your hands around him and hugged him tightly.

When Jeon Jungkook saw you again, everything was different.

He was distracting himself from school. University was much harder than he thought, especially since he didn’t attend right after high school to pursue his streaming career.

For a long time, he had someone to take care of him, first his mom and then you. Someone to do everything so he could recklessly chase his dreams. But things were different now. He had to suddenly become an adult. It wasn’t because of you. You hadn’t told anyone what happened.

But everyone knew.

One girl had let it slip, and then another and another, and then screenshots were plastered everywhere, all over the internet for anyone to see, not knowing the context, tossing judgements left and right. His parents found out and then his friends, everyone disappointed in him, not surprised that you vanished without a trace. He had to vanish too, every sponsor cutting ties with him immediately, not asking if it was true or not. It was bad for business to be associated with something like that.

Jungkook really regretted it now, but there was nothing he could do to take it back.

That’s why he was sitting in this tiny, one room apartment, using what was leftover from his streaming money to get a degree, saving every penny to his education. At least he hadn’t been so reckless to overspend. You hadn’t let him, always reminding him to save for his future, using your own income to pay for the necessities.

Even now, you were helping him.

Every once in a while, Jungkook would type variations of your old Instagram username into the search bar, wondering if you had ever set it up again. He had asked you to delete it, since you had been getting constant DMs from guys asking you out, sending you unsolicited dick pics. You had agreed, even through you could have fought him or simply privated it.

You had deleted it, Jungkook knew now, because he asked you and you loved him.

It hurt to know that you loved him so dearly and he was too busy feeding his own ego to see it.

When Jungkook saw you again, you were surrounded by flowers.

Your profile picture was a close up shot of your beautiful face, golden sun against your skin, a white cosmos tucked behind your ear. He knew it was you. He could tell by the shape of your lips, the contours of your eyes, even through your eyes were closed. Wearing a white dress, the ruffles fluttering in the wind.

Jungkook was breathless, seeing you again. He scrolled through your pictures. They were mostly of flowers, with captions of how to grow them. Were you a florist now? Some of them were of you in different dresses, surrounded by blue sky and green summer. The smile on your face was so dazzling that he wondered who gave you that smile.

His heart wrenched uncomfortably in his chest.

Or maybe it wasn’t a someone.

There was a time when that smile was his. There was a time when he could make you smile like that, your lips saying his name breathlessly – “Jungkook, Jungkook, look at this!” – showing him something silly or giving him his favorite banana milk with special edition packaging, saying how cute it was, just like him.

He blinked and a droplet fell onto his phone.

Right on your smiling face, hand holding a large straw hat, your pink dress fluttering in the wind.

Jungkook wiped it away, swiping at his tears with the sleeve of his black sweatshirt, wondering why had he taken that smile for granted, why he had drifted away from the safe coast, why he had thought, even for a second, that the days and nights you spent cleaning after him meant that you were keeping yourself busy and away from him, not seeing it for what it was, not seeing that it was your love for him and his own sloppiness that left him here now, staring at your summer as his summer was torn from him by textbooks and lectures.

He shuddered, still looking at the pictures, not wanting to miss a moment, even if they weren’t his moments anymore.

One of your pictures was a bundle of seven white cosmos, a little wilted and sad-looking.

Jungkook read the caption.

It doesn’t matter if you don’t think you’re beautiful. Because there is someone out there who thinks you are. They use every resource they know to give you love, even if it’s clumsy at first. Even if you don’t think you need it or want it.

The tears were really coming now, streaming down his cheeks as Jungkook asked himself why, why did he give this up?

They celebrate you and your love instead of simply tolerating it.

You sat on the edge of the cliff, legs dangling over the side.

Your pink flats were right beside you, and your arms were resting on the wooden fence. The ocean breeze was strong here, salty and cold. But you didn’t feel the cold, because Kim Taehyung had wrapped a thick wool blanket around you two. It was already night, but by the seaside it was still chilly, even in the summer, due to the sea breeze.

He peeled the foil back on a roasted sweet yam, taking off some of the skin so you could bite into it. You tried to take it from him but he shook his head, frowning at you. You laughed and took a bite, scalding your mouth from how hot it was. But it still tasted good.

“I asked my parents if I could have it.”

You looked up at him, trying to blow the steaming air from your mouth in attempt to cool off.

“The cottage?”

Taehyung nodded, taking a bite and wincing. “You’ll never guess what they said.”

You smiled. “What did they say?”

He scowled. “Then pay rent!” He waved a hand to the seaside house behind you two. “They own it! Why do I have to pay rent? I’m their son!”

You giggled, hiding your mouth behind you hand. Taehyung angrily bit into the sweet yam again and choked, forgetting how hot it was. Your giggles turned into full-blown laughter, falling back onto the grass, wool softening your fall. Taehyung narrowed his eyes at you, shaking the yam furiously. The white moonlight glinted off the silver foil. He puffed his cheeks and sighed as your laughter faded out.

You looked up at the stars, realizing how clear the sky was here.

It was nothing like the city.

Even in darkness, the white stars shone against the black, bright and clear. You wouldn’t have seen them if you weren’t here, on your back and looking up at them.

“Anyway, they only said it was a hundred won, so I guess that’s fine,” Taehyung grumbled. “Really made me worried there for a second, sheesh.”

You turned your head to look up at him. “You going to live here?”

Taehyung shook his head.

“No, you are.”

You blinked, taken aback. He rewrapped the yam, determining it was too hot to eat right now. He gazed down at you, smiling a little.

“It’s better than that one room you have in that house. Safer too.”

You chewed on your lip. “But I can’t pay the amount I paid when I rented it…”

Taehyung poked you with the yam. “Weren’t you listening? The rent is a hundred won. No, two hundred for you, since I have to make some profit.”

He laid down next to you, eye to eye now, smile getting bigger.

“Although I hear there’s this annoying gardener that comes around every day caring for the plants.”

You were smiling now too, drawn by his cheeky, boxy grin.

“Really? I think he’s pretty cute. I think that’s how he gets away with it.”

His brown eyes locked with yours.

“Will you let me care for you too?”

The sound of the sea, crashing into the rockface, constructing a new memory for you.

“I know you’ll be much harder than a plant,” Taehyung murmured quietly. “Sorry, that’s a dumb thing to say, I meant–”

You pressed your lips against his, cold air chilling your cheeks, warmth spreading throughout your soul.

When you pulled away, breathless, Taehyung was staring at you, eyes wide. Those three words came to you, words that you thought you were never going to say again, words you had for someone else, but you knew this was the right one, the perfect flower.

The one who struggled to grow seven flowers.

White cosmos.

Just for you.

“I love you, Kim Taehyung.”

The next summer.

Seven flowers. White cosmos, bright, glowing, perfectly shaped. Surrounding your left hand. The ring finger held a princess-cut diamond surrounded by six tiny small ones like petals.

The caption.

He grew them perfectly this time.

Jeon Jungkook sighed heavily, placing his phone back in his pocket. The noise around him was loud, clattering and chattering, now a familiar atmosphere. The black bucket hat was low over his eyes, shrouding them. He pulled his face mask higher, hiding his features, not wanting to be recognized. Internet shame was enough; he didn’t need public shame as well. He already had to switch universities because of it.

Jungkook placed his hand back onto the subway rail, shouldering his backpack, staring out the train window at the black tunnel.

masterpost

#taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #kim taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #taehyung scenarios #kim taehyung x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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playlistmusings · 3 years

Text

Everyone knows you're the way to my heart (Chapter 2)

(1) Prologue (2) Yelled down the hall, but nobody answered (3) Always surprised by what I'd do for love, Some things I'll never expect (4) But I feel something when I see you now (5) And I've never seen you smiling so big

Chapter 2- Yelled down the hall, but nobody answered

Jude was sick of Cardan. She was sick of being his puppet-master, she was sick of making clever commands for him to follow, sick of ruling in his stead and getting none of the credit. She was tired and angry and anxious for all sorts of reasons but she knew that nothing, nothing, could ever evoke the intense emotions that a single thought of Cardan could. He was insufferable and irresponsible and so many other things that it made Jude want to rip her hair out or push a knife through his chest-- that is if she could even find him. Because, of course, right when things were looking up-- advisors treating her like a person and not a schoolgirl, tensions between Elfame and other lands finally starting to diminish, getting full nights of sleep-- Cardan started disappearing. It's not like Jude even cared where he was-- probably off with a group of pretty faeries having the time of his life, she thought with a painful twist in her gut before reminding herself that she didn't care what (or who, her mind provided, unhelpfully) he did-- it was that he was always disappearing when she needed to brief him before a meeting or get him to sign important documents. And she could never find him. It always ended with Jude giving up and going to the meeting without him or winding her way to his chambers to leave parchments scattered on a side table with a quill and ink next to them.

It was awful. Jude had been struggling to get him to listen to her when she told him to just cooperate. And even if she wanted to take the easy way out and just order Cardan to do his work, she would have to be able to find him first. She couldn't think of any solutions to her problem, except perhaps to order him to stay with her all the time. That however, wouldn't even work when she thought it through. After all, even if all of Elfhame thought she was his closest advisor, it would be suspicious if he never left her side. And besides, even if she could justify potentially putting her whole plan at risk by ordering him to something that gave her so much control, the thought of spending one day-- much less months-- with Cardan practically shackled to her was already making her miserable. So, she suffered his disappearing acts and hoped beyond measure that he would grow bored of his childish antics sooner rather than later.

The most infuriating things by far were the ones like now, where Jude had spent hours walking through corridors searching for Cardan and finally found him when she gave up and went to the Court of Shadows-- the place that she had first looked. He was leisurely propped on a chair by the table, drinking some sort of potent wine, while speaking to the Roach, laughing and looking far too comfortable for someone who was supposed to be signing important documents at the moment. And of course, Cardan didn't even have the piece of mind to look apologetic when Jude narrowed his eyes at him and called him all sorts of names under her breath before throwing a stack of paper at his chest.

As Jude left Cardan at the table, where he was now fumbling to pick the papers up from where they fluttered around him on the floor, the Roach stood to follow her into the training room. Knowing what was coming, the Roach stood off to the side of the room while Jude breathed deeply to try to calm her mind, before giving up and unsheathing Nightfell and slashing a practice dummy in half.

"Stupid Cardan and his stupid wandering and stupid inability to do anything that could be interpreted as helpful." Jude punctuated every phrase with another hit to the bottom half of the dummy that remained standing.

The Roach stood, arms crossed, leaning against the wall, watching Jude slaughter the dummy, before Jude spun to face him.

With Nightfell pointed dangerously close to his neck and a viscous glint in her eyes Jude yelled, "What do you even want? Don't you have better things to do than to just stand there and stare? Weren't you too busy laughing and drinking with Cardan to even tell me where he was?"

The Roach simply pushed himself off the wall to say, with a calm tone that only frustrated Jude even more, "Why does Cardan disappearing even bother you? It's not like he's going out and getting hurt or actually missing meetings?"

Jude hated him for asking that. In some part of her mind she knew she was only angry because she had been asking herself those same questions for days now and couldn't find any answer that didn't frustrate or confuse her. But instead of voicing any of this or showing vulnerability, Jude lowered Nightfell and sighed, "Because I need to work, because he needs to work, and if I can't even find him then how can either of us keep this place running?"

Later, with the gift of hindsight, Jude would note that the Roach's eyes had lit up in some terrifying way at these words, as if she had fallen into some brilliant trap, but in the moment she couldn't even bring herself to notice the slight upturning of his lips, her mind filled with frustration and anger.

"You just want to be able to know where he is? That's it?"

Jude nodded at the Roach's words, "I mean, if I could just find him when I needed to, then it would solve about ninety percent of my problems."

"Well, lucky for you, my dear, I have the perfect thing. I just found--" (stole, Jude filled in) "-- it yesterday." He pulled one of the pendants looped on a chain from a pocket.

Jude eyed it wearily, trying to think despite the fog of anger that had clouded her rational thought all day. On one hand, Jude was constantly aware that gifts from faeries were dangerous, especially if you didn’t know who made it or its purpose. But on another hand, Jude was fed up and tired of having to find all the solutions herself, and here the Roach was, someone who Jude trusted with more than her life, giving her an easy answer. So before she could think through rash actions she snatched the chain and asked "How does it work?"

"It should get warmer as he nears. But it only--" Before she heard the Roach's warning, Jude was out of the training room, stalking past Cardan where he sat signing documents at the table, satisfied that she finally solved a problem. As Jude walked back to her room, she slipped the necklace over her head while thinking about falling into bed and dreaming of days that didn't include searching for Cardan-- and definitely did not include the stupid way her stomach fluttered when she heard him laughing when she had found him today.

tag list:

@jurdanhell @yourlocalautisticoverlord

#writing #the folk of the air #cardan greenbriar #fanfic #fluff #jude duarte #jude greenbriar #jude x cardan #prince cardan #jurdan fanfic #tfota fanfic #the folk of the air fanfic

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jensungf · 4 years

Text

𝐂𝐀𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄? ฅ 𝐥.𝐣𝐧

summary: your mother always told you a lot as a child — about how you should always be kind to others, to always watch out for stray kittens in dark allies on your way to school and most importantly, to not judge a book by its cover. you didn’t always listen to her. yet you would have to say your biggest weakness would come in the form of cats. and maybe lee jeno as well.

pairing: shy!reader + badboy!lee jeno genre: high school!au, fluff<3 word count: 1.8k warnings: language, mentions of disease

author’s note: another one of my blurbs that accidentally turned into a really long drabble hehe i hope the anonnie who requested this enjoys! <3 as always constructive criticism is appreciated and you can request after checking my prompt list.

just like every other caring parent, your mom went on and on about what she deemed to be important life lessons during your childhood, and even now — about how you should always be kind to others, to always watch out for stray kittens if you pass by the alley next to the flower garden on your way to school and most importantly, to not judge a book by its cover.

you tried your best to listen to her. you really did. but sometimes, people had weaknesses and besides your more than often bouts of procrastination and incessant affinity for watermelon sour patch candies —

(“if i was your dentist, i’d probably hate and love you,” jisung snickered as you shot him a look of confusion. “‘cause you must have hella cavities but that would mean i could charge you more money! i’m so sm- ow, that hurts (y/n)!” you rolled your eyes after picking up the bag of watermelon sour patches you had thrown at his forehead and ripping it open to pop one in your mouth)

— yet you would have to say your biggest weakness would come in the form of cats. cute, fluffy, insanely adorable stray cats.

although you had your fair share of friends, you preferred to stray away from human interaction (honestly, it was too much of a hassle, you were never really the type to approach people first anyways, your shyness getting the best of you and you preferred it that way), you preferred the company of much smaller, fluffier animals. although your mother always warned you about the dangers stray animals possessed, whether it be how they could carry rabid diseases or put you at risk of bad luck, you stopped hesitating to bring some snacks for the poor, small kittens years ago on your daily walk to school.

you paused as soon as you heard a small mewl followed by some rustling and shuffled your feet forward, peering into the dark alley before you felt something nudge against your leg. you jumped back, but let out a sigh of relief. you crouched down, holding your hand out for the tiny kitten to nuzzle against.

you cooed and reached into your backpack, bringing out the cubes of watermelon you had packed earlier before gently offering a piece to the black and white kitten.

“what do you think you’re doing?” a gruff voice asked, causing you to flinch and jump back. your head snapped up, only to find the source of the voice to be someone who scared you a lot more than you liked to admit.

lee jeno.

everyone who knew anyone knew that lee jeno fit in with the cliche archetype of a bad boy. he hung out with his troublemaker friends in a group of seven (including jisung, but how you still managed to be friends with that giant noodle without encountering his friends, you will still never know), with rumors spreading like wildfire amongst your peers of them always being late to school, stirring up mischief with their motorbikes and causing ruckuses during detention.

you didn’t expect him to be here out of all places.

he was never the center of all of the attention, preferring to stay behind his loudmouth friends and observe quietly, laughing whenever donghyuck or jaemin would make a joke and joining in with his friends’ antics whenever he felt like it. but make no mistake — the moment anyone saw his muscular arms and the glint in his eye, they knew he wasn’t going to be one to mess with.

you realized he was staring you expectantly, waiting for an answer but your brain seemed to short-circuit from surprise. you opened your mouth, desperately trying to rack up a response with your pea-sized brain (stupid y/n, why did i have to forget how to speak an entire language right at this very moment?, you groaned internally) before closing your mouth and averting your eyes to the very interesting concrete ground.

“cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” he teased, smirking almost flirtatiously. (you never noticed it but jeno’s ears flushed red, not knowing where this sudden confidence came from. he usually wasn’t the type to flirt… at least not like this in broad daylight with a random pretty stranger. he’d be damned to say jaemin was finally rubbing off on him.)

you bit your lip, unsure what to say back and cursed yourself for being so awkward. you glanced briefly at his figure, his broad shoulders donning his signature outfit of a black leather jacket, low cut almost hawaiian-looking shirt and ripped skinny jeans (it was literally so sunny outside, how was he not sweating in that? also, did he ever wash that jacket? you could’ve sworn you had never even seen him without it) before pressing your lips into a firm, thin line.

your eyes fluttered down to the kitty, ignoring him, yet you were struggling to remember how to breathe properly. your friends had always called you shy, albeit approachable, but you never realized how difficult it was for you to just simply talk to someone you actually sort of wanted to talk to until this very moment. why was just saying a single word so hard? and why did it have to be the school’s notorious bad boy here with you out of everyone in this town?

he frowned, not used to girls blatantly ignoring him, but it wasn’t the first time it happened. he tried to search your face for any sign of recognition, but you were too invested in the cat, or rather, his cat to pay him any attention.

(he’s never been jealous of a cat before but he’d never admit that at this moment, he would’ve liked to switch places with nal. what a nice life it must be for a cat to be fed watermelon all day and be coddled with attention and affection from a pretty girl.)

“how’d you know she liked watermelon?” he asked before bending down. your eyes flickered up until you realized how close he was to you, only a few mere inches away from your body. you shrugged, not trusting your voice to speak.

“nal,” he whispered, bending down to your level, whistling to coax her towards him. she meowed, licking the last bit drop of watermelon juice on her paw before pouncing towards jeno, her fluffy tail looping around his beat-up hightops. his usual stoic expression curled up into a boyish grin as he started petting her and murmuring praises of how adorable she was.

you could hardly believe your own two eyes. lee jeno, everyone’s picture-perfect example of a bad boy who looked like he walked straight out of the cheesiest teenage rom-com flick was ... a softie for cats?

never in a million years would you have pictured this in your mind.

you tried to stifle the laughter bubbling in your chest, but jeno looked up to catch your eyes. heat crept up your spine and consumed your face, causing you to look back down at the kitty who was nuzzling against him again.

“what’s so funny?” he asked, cocking his head and raising his eyebrows.

you couldn’t help it if your heart decided to do somersaults seeing his innocent expression, resembling that of a confused five-year-old child.

you shook your head before softly asking, “she’s yours?”

he bit back a grin at finally hearing your voice and reached into his jacket pocket to pull out a silver chain collar with a charm (engraved with “nal”), the silver bell attached to it lightly jingling. how ironic yet fitting, you thought.

“i can’t take her home with me because i’m allergic, so i let her roam around here and visit every day until i can find a place for her to stay,” he explains as he scratches her behind the ear, earning a delightful meow before slipping the chain over her head.

you took a step back, mentally taking a snapshot of this moment. you couldn’t help but giggle lightly once you realized that jeno and nal looked almost exactly alike, as if nal was jeno in cat form, with her black and white fur adorned with a chain collar looking exactly like his usual monochromatic outfit and worn black leather jacket, not to mention the silver chain bracelets and necklace he wore all the time.

jeno’s head snapped up once again to watch you laugh.

his heart thumped a little harder than he would’ve liked to admit.

“bad boys don’t take care of stray cats,” you say, finally locking eyes with jeno. “especially the bad boys who are allergic to cats,” you smile.

he shrugged, his boyish grin still etched on his handsome face. (screw handsome, you couldn’t lie — you’ve wondered on more than one occasion how blessed his parents must be to have a son whose looks could rival a professional model’s face.)

you couldn’t help but notice how different he seemed now, looking more like a carefree and lovable child rather than a reckless troublemaker.

“don’t judge a book by its cover, sweetheart,” he said before giving you a wink, starkly contrasting with the way he tried to hide how he scratched his reddening nape afterwards.

he gave one last gentle rub to nal’s head before standing up, getting on his motorbike. he looked back, with a glint of something in his eyes. “need a ride, sweetheart? or the cat still got your tongue?”

you froze in your spot, feeling your face turn hot with embarrassment. you weren’t used to this. it was the school’s bad boy after all.

but you could get used to it.

mustering all the courage inside of your shy mighty heart, you look down at nal and gave her a gentle kiss on the top of her head, letting her nibble on one last piece of watermelon.

“my mother always told me not to judge a book by its cover,” you mused, a hint of playfulness in your voice. “i guess i was wrong about you.”

“i’m y/n,” you added shyly.

jeno’s eyes crinkled into crescents, a genuine smile forming on his face.

“jeno.”

you walked hesitantly up to his bike, and took a seat behind him gingerly.

you let your arms fall to grip the sides of the seat, before jeno shook his head and lifted your hands up to wrap your arms securely around his toned torso. “hold on tight.”

guess your mother was right after all.

+ bonus blurb!

#jeno scenarios #jeno imagines #jeno fluff #jeno x reader #kwritersworldnet #nct dream scenarios #nct dream blurbs #nct scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #fluff #jeno drabbles #drabbles #high school!au #badboy!au #i love badboy!jeno so much THIS WAS SO CUTE #leyna writes #hehe if anyone cant tell the symbol is a cats paw

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agoracactus · 3 years

Text

Pt. 9.5 - The Blood Mage

so im here to explain what happened after reader left Geralt, but it gets pretty dark (see warnings), if u dont wanna read it but still wanna know what happened, ill do a family friendly summary at the very end, scroll and look for this ▲△▲△▲△ dividing line

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.4.5 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x reader

Word Count: 4110 - summary excluded

Warnings: besides the standards, blood, gore, indication of sacrificial ritual against children (yes im a monster)

Tag list: @theojuicee @ayamenimthiriel @imthesnowinthedark @distinguishedkryptonitecreator

You stood there, watching him disappeared into the woods, cold air wrapping tightly around your body.

Was it getting cold? Or was it your blood drawing away from the surface of your skin, wanted to crawl inside and hide there and never come out?

When you realized it, you were already walking away. Tears blurring your sight, hitched breaths blocking your hearing, you stumbled forward, don’t know where you’re going--- you just wanted to get out, you had to.

You tripped and fell, and you just lay there, panting from the emotion that’s gripping your chest.

How could he say such things? You cared about him so much, yet he returned it with sharp blades of words. Manipulating him? How dare he? You were merely helping, trying to steer him away from the tragic events that would happen to him! Did he ever say ‘thank you’ for your effort of trying? No. He complained. He Accused you for being a ‘jinx’.

You sat up. The darkness had already crept in in between the trees. You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, the shock and the sadness faded into anger. You stood up.

Fine, you’re leaving. You don’t need him anyway. You could go back to Yen, she would take you in. You would live a way better life than before- Hell, you don’t even need Yen. You can take care of yourself. You will go on your own adventure and perhaps meet someone better than that stupid, stubborn asshole.

You didn’t know how long you’ve been walking, or where were you walking to. It was dark everywhere, and your human eyes could barely made out anything- probably even less than what you usually could due to your now puffy eyes.

You started to hear the different sound of the night forest, the cracking of the dry twigs, the chirping of what you assumed of the crickets, the rustling of the trees, and perhaps the howling of some wolves far away.

Suddenly, a scream pierced through the darkness of the forest.

You tensed up, ready to run if any danger come towards you.

“HELP!”

You heard it loud and clear. You quickly drew out your shotgun, ran to the source of the sound.

It wasn’t hard to locate where you should go, there was a faint glow not so far away in the woods. As you were getting closer, you saw a circle of glyphs giving out a brown-ish red glow, in the center lay a shape that seemed to be a body of a child. Beyond the circle, not too far away, was a ghoul.

“Help me! Help!” Someone up in the tree shouted desperately, seeing you appeared from the dark. You stopped in the circle of glyphs, aimed the shotgun at the ghoul that was growling up at the poor man and pulled the trigger.

The ghoul took a few shot before it went down and stopped moving completely.

“Are you ok?” you poked the dead ghoul with the gun barrel to make sure it’s really dead, and said to the man, “You can come down now, it’s dead.” “Oh thank you kind stranger!” the man swiftly climbed down, he was wearing a cloak with dark stains at the bottom edge. “I would have been dead if not for you, I owe you my life!” “What happened here?” you asked, stepped into the circle once again to check the pulse of the child. You noticed the boy had several cuts on his arms and legs, and a mark of branding on the inside of his wrist that you couldn’t quite make out the design with the dim light from the glyphs.

“...Fascinating...” You heard the man gasped in awe. “Hm?” gotten distracted from inspecting the branding further more, the thought slipped from your mind, “The kid is dead.” you stood up. “Yes yes, poor child. His parents brought him to me for treatments, but the monster showed up. I tried to put up a protection sphere for him but he’s badly wounded...” the man lowered his head with remorse. “You’re a healer?” you stepped out of the circle. The man glanced at your feet and the glyphs, “I’m a worshiper of the arcane, a student in the knowledge of unknown.” he bowed his head slightly, “Sadon Olbrecht, at your service.” “Y/n.” you replied, found yourself having some trouble trusting him, but couldn’t put your finger on it.

“What a lovely name! And what brought you here deep in the woods in such late hours?” “Um, well, I um, lost.” you avoided the eye contact, remembering the reason why you were deep in the woods late at night. “Oh I live near by! You are more than welcome to come stay overnight, and I can show you the way to the highway tomorrow!” he lit a lantern--- that came out of nowhere. “It’s this way!” he lift up the lantern to see better ahead. “...” you took a look back at the direction you assumed you came from--- it’s too dark to tell--- “Sure. Lead the way.”

It didn’t take long before you saw that stone made house. “Here we are!” Sadon picked up the pace, “We don’t have much, but it’s our humble home.” “We?” you glanced at the dark windows. “Yes. Come come!” he quickly pushed open the wooden door. You hesitated, one hand reached back and clutched on the pistol.

You stepped in. It was dark, the smell of decay and dampness rushed into your nostril. “Sadon?” you couldn’t see anything. Something wasn’t right. You turned, wanted to walk back out.

Then a heavy strike hit you in the back of your head. You fell unconscious.

It was cold, dark, humid, stank of dirt and mold.

And blood.

So much blood.

Fresh, not fresh, they all mixed together into a protruding smell.

You were leaning against the cold stone wall, hands chained to the wall, another pair of heavy manacles on your ankles. There’s no window in this room, the only time when you could see anything was when Sadon were in the room, then he would light all the candles--- there were so many candles, black and red. When there’s no light, it’s pitch black. So dark that you often wondered if your eyes were actually opened.

It hurt everywhere, to a point that you couldn’t feel pain anymore. You used to complain so much about even the smallest cut, would wine about your sore back every few minutes. But you stopped thinking about the pain now. Your brain learned to ignore it after a while. You tried to get some sleep, but your body was aching and stiff--- in fact, your brain couldn’t even tell if you’ve slept.

And the noises. The sobbing and crying and moaning from below.

The kids.

You didn’t know who they were, but you know there were several of them. Sadon kept them separated from you, in the camber below. You saw him carrying sacks downstairs a couple of times, took some time before you realized that those were the kids. He probably kidnapped them somewhere, put them to sleep for transportation.

You’re glad that you didn’t know these poor children.

You heard the rustling of the keys, and the squeaking of the metal door. Light poured in from the door at the far side of the chamber, a pair of feet came down the stone stairs.

“Good evening!” he greeted you delightedly and started lighting the candles with the candlestick he brought down. There was a large stone pedestal in the middle of the chamber, few metal hooks sticking out on the sides, with runes carved all around it and it was covered in deep maroon. The runes ran down the pedestal, to the stone floor, and formed a circle.

Sadon finished lighting up the room, set the candlestick down on the side of the pedestal “I really have a good feeling today, perhaps success is near the corner!” You could hear the sincere excitement in his voice, and it only sickened you more.

He took the chain of keys, and unlocked the hatch to the basement. You chewed on the inside of your mouth, hearing the children crying. You saw a little boy being dragged up, manacles chained on his skinny wrists and ankles. The boy was trying all he can to fight, but Sadon as a grown man was way stronger than him. He threw you desperate gazes, but there was nothing you could do. You watched him being dragged to the pedestal, manacles on his wrists hooked to one side and the ankles were hooked to the other side.

Then Sadon brought a dagger and a small goblet to you. He knelt down beside you, took the dagger and cup a deep slit in your upper arm. You turned your head away, gritted your teeth so hard you felt like you were going to shatter your jaw. He caught your blood in the goblet and brought it back to the boy, who was laying on the pedestal, panting in fear.

You shut your eyes, trying to close off all your senses.

The pure one.

That’s how Sadon addressed you. How disgusted you were when you heard that.

He said he’s a blood mage. You knew that’s bullshit from the time you’ve spent with the witcher and the sorceress, and the knowledge they fed to you.

Sadon was just a demon worshiper, who was deluded about how he has a connection with the “demon lord”. He told you that he would one day break the barrier between the two worlds and bring his lord to this realm, and together they would bring the world to greatness. And he believed that your blood is the key to his grand plan.

You didn’t even care about the sanity of his mind.

How long have you been in here? How many rituals have you witnessed? How many young lives were perished, tragically and painfully in front of your eyes? The scenes, the sounds, they haunted your dreams. Sometimes you couldn’t tell if you were dreaming or the ritual was actually happening.

At first you were so mad, you screamed, you struggled. You tried to fight your way out of this, but you were nothing without your weapons.

You were nothing without your witcher.

You overflew your mind with the witcher.

His voice, his frown, his grunt, his smirk. What was he doing while you were stuck here, suffering? Did his mind ever come across you after you parted ways? Was he worried about you?

Then you banned him out of your mind, kicked the image the sound the phantom warmth of his out of your brain as many times as you needed.

You prayed. Prayed for all these were just a bad dream, prayed that Geralt would be looking and saved you from this hellhole. You cursed, cursed your bad luck, curse your immunity, cursed for you trusting a stranger and take him for his words. Disappointed- desperate about the absence of

Till there’s nothing left for you to do but to wait.

Wait for the final fate to find you.

The chamber has grown cold.

You were the one laying face up on the pedestal, staring up at the ceiling. There hanged a rusty chandelier, covered in dust and webs. The thought of it falling and killing you and ruining the ritual flashed through your mind, brought you a slight amusement. You were even more amused at how you were coming up sick jokes when death was staring you right in the face. In fact, you had to suppress the urge to laugh.

Few kids were kneeling on the ground, forming a circle around the pedestal. You couldn’t tell how many of them were there--- you were too weak to turn your head to look--- you guessed that they were probably the last ‘stock’ Sadon had in his little basement. You could hear them sobbing, the silver instruments Sadon made them held were making soft tinkling sound with their shaky hands.

The temperture dropped more. Or maybe it’s you losing blood.

You heard Sadon’s chanting, heard him moving around in his elegant robe. You fought to keep your eyes open, but the eyelids were growing heavy.

You were scared.

Is this it? Are you really going to die? What’s beyond ‘death’? Will you return to your world? Would Geralt miss you, at all?

You were not ready to go. But the darkness was creeping in from the corner of your vision.

A voice crept in as darkness consumed you. It souded like several people talking at the same time, in different pitch, but merged in one.

“What do you wish?”

You found yourself standing--- or perhaps, floating, in this darkness. The voice seemed to be coming from everywhere.

“We could give you anything you want.”

You looked around, then you weren’t sure if you were actually looking.

“I want to live.” you found yourself talking, heard your voice coming from all around you.

“Pay the price.”

The voice echoed in the space.

“I have nothing.”

“Give us what’s most precious to you.”

A dark shape emerged from the dark. You didn’t know how you’re seeing it without light, but the presence was strong. You saw it extended it’s hand, expecting a hand shake.

You closed your eyes, still seeing the darkness.

“Give it.” “Give it.” “Give it.”

The voice now split into several whispers, coming from different directions.

You saw yourself slowly raising your hand, slowly, reaching that extending arm. Faintly, you heard your voice, telling you to stop, to think this over, to be smart.

A face flashed into your mind, the pair of eyes that would usually filled with warmth were painted in cold bitterness.

You held onto the arm.

A burning sensation burst out on the inside of your forearm. A shape was glowing, and eating your flesh away. You screamed.

The whispers ceased.

“You are ours now.”

The darkness faded. You were on your bare feet, panting. Most of the candles were out, the only ones still burning were the ones on the pedestal behind you.

Your saw your shadow casting on the ground, and drew up to the wall, swaying, with the low burn candlelight. The thick substance that’s covering the ground, glistening with the flickering light. You tried to move your feet, but your foot kicked something.

An arm. Children’s.

You slowly glanced around, eyes barely made out the scattering pieces of what you assumed, human body. The smell of gradually decaying flesh filled your nostril, your brain slowly started working.

What happened?

You saw Sadon, half of his head were by the wall, expression frozen on absolute horror.

The metal door screaked. You turned, and saw two figures standing at the top of the stairs. In their eyes, were those horror? Shock? Perhaps wonder?

You didn’t get to find out. In a flash, the smaller figure of the two rushed towards you. And before you could react, a blunt hit in the back of your head. You were back into darkness again.

▲△▲△▲△▲△▲△▲the family friendly dividing line▲△▲△▲△▲△▲△▲△▲

Summary

You left Geralt after the fight when the night was falling. Frustrated and disappointed at what happened, you got lost.

Deep in the woods, you came upon a man who named Sadon, he was being attacked by a ghoul, after killing the ghoul, he offered somewhere safe to stay for the night in return. He attacked you and knocked you out after arriving at his stone made house.

It turned out that he was a demon worshiper, and claimed to be a blood mage. He made sacrifices of children who he kidnapped at the nearby village to pay tribute to his dark lord. He believes that the rituals he’s doing granted him power, and one day he would be powerful enough to summon the demon king to this realm, and together they would rule the world. And when you saved him in the woods, he found out that magic doesn’t take effect on you. He believed that you were the key he needed for his grand scheme. So he kidnapped you, and was waiting for the right time for his final ritual.

Sadon wasn’t wrong. Your blood was desired by the demons, as it could grant them power. The ritual was successful, just wasn’t as expected by Sadon. You made a deal with the demons, giving them your memory in exchange of immense power.

You woke up and found yourself standing, around you were Sadon and all the children who met a horrible death. Helvi’tar and Eyle opened the door to the basement of death, found you in complete confusion.

Then Eyle knocked you out.

#the witcher #gerlat of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x y/n #geralt x you

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letfatewritethewords · 3 years

Text

I process things with art. I process with written words in the hopes that one day it can be spoken without my voice shaking. This week has been one for the books.. and I decided to share. This is long, but I want to remember what I’m learning.. how I’m processing.. if you decide to read, thank you. If not, this will still be here as a reminder of my progress every year.

I always tell people that there was no reason for my name, but it’s a lie. I’m named after Samantha on BeWitched. My grandfather loved that show and suggested it when my mother couldn’t decide. I was born in early September and that makes me a Virgo. Astrology is one of my favorite things. There’s something extraordinary about the idea that we’re connected to the universe by the positioning of the stars. Sometimes it’s so vague.. but other times, it’s right on the nose and my horoscopes will make me cry. Speaking of that, I’m an empath and a 2. When I’m unhealthy, I’m a 4 and If you know what any of that means, I’d love to talk to you more about it. Winter is my favorite season. Fall is a close second. I love the snow and how muted everything is. I like the quiet, the beauty. Sometimes, the light from the sun will shimmer off a fresh coat of snow on the ground. It is absolutely blinding, but I’d still stare, and when the snow fell at night, I’d watch it under the street light across from my house and it felt like time stood still. When I was little, I would lay in the yard full of snow, alone, in my puffy suite, until my fingers and toes would go numb from the cold, listening to the silence, but the best part of those days was going back into my grandparents house and warming up with hot coco made on the stove, wrapping myself in a soft blanket and watching old movies with my grandfather. To me, the Winter is magical. My love languages are Quality Time and Acts of Service. I’m an introvert but I love people. I like to observe, I like to really understand how the mind works and Im eager to help. I thrive in controlled chaos. I like puzzles, I love music, I like crafts, I like to fix things because grandpa always taught me that nothing is to broken to fix. Nothing. No one.

This is the light. This is the part of me that I give willingly to anyone I meet. I wear it on my sleeve. It’s only the light. Until the last 2 years.. this was all I could give of myself because I’ve always been scared of the dark.

The darkest part of me lasted 8 years, my rock bottom lasted 4.5, but as a whole it’s taken up almost 12 years of my life. Sometimes I worry that all I'm ever going to be is this thing that happened to me. That this will define me for the rest of my life and I need to remind myself that I’m a person that can live separate from an event.

I went to the police station this week, I filled out more forms. I’ve filled out so many forms over the last 2 years. For an emergency restraining order this time. For Florida this time. I knew it would eventually follow me here but typhus felt too soon. The clerk called me brave. I smile and thank them every time but I never know how to respond to that. She has no idea how weak it feels and I mean.. how could she. This is the right choice, the obvious choice, the smart choice. In a different situation, it’s one of the many steps I’d be urging someone else to take. In all the chaos, all the hurt, in all the anger and sadness.. it always circles back to “I loved him”. I did. I wanted to fix him. I wanted to see him grow and heal and if I loved him hard enough for the both of us, it would’ve evened out eventually… right?

I failed.

He was always who he was, but I was young and naive and ready to fix the whole world. When I was 18 and we were free, I would’ve told you he saved me. Now that I’m in my 30’s… and he’s in prison and I’m in limbo.. I don’t know what I’d tell you. He didn’t save me, but he didn’t destroy me either. I had every opportunity to tap out and give up.. but I grew into a person I might not have been if I never met him.

Am I angry? All of the time.

Am I scared? Yes.

I see things more clearly now though. People talk about how you never know someone’s story, and that’s because we are experts at playing pretend like we have it all figured out until we’re alone and have to face truest selves. The facade is the hardest thing to give up. Some people saw through mine and there are others, who have built their own, that never will. I share posts about what I’ve learned, how I see people, how I’ve try to treat people with grace and teach children with love and patience in hopes that a little of that sinks into whoever it reaches, but I very rarely show the journey. Partly because I know the details are gruesome and that’s not for everyone, but mostly because I’m scared.

How will you see me?

What will you think?

I’m learning that I’m not this big awful thing that happened to me. I was never anyone’s property and I’m not chained to it anymore. I was very much lied to and manipulated and hurt long enough that it flipped onto me and I carried it without missing a step. I wanted to love him so much that I would heal him. Instead, he “loved” me so much it almost killed me, and he did call it love. Enough times that he re-defined it and I didn’t use that word for a very long time in any meaningful situation. He, for better or for worse, drastically changed the trajectory of my life.

But it’s ok.

I’m wounded but I’m healing. I’m lonely, but I’m learning how to slowly welcome more people in and step out of my comfort zone. If I’m being honest, I’m relearning a lot of things, including how to exist in a world where I have room to make mistakes and fail. I can say or do the wrong thing and be gently corrected for it by my people and move on … sans violence. There are no words for amount of relief I feel because of that truth.

Is it over? No.

He was sentenced to 7 years last year and every year around mid July early August there is an opportunity to apply for an appeal based on his behavior, which will always be immaculate because he is not as tough as he thinks he is. This means that if he applies and it goes to trial, I’m also notified and have to reappear, show any new evidence, and reexplain why he needs to stay there for the safety of others and myself. Telling my story once a year on a whim to a room full of strangers, always men, so they can decide my fate, as well as the fate of this “upstanding young man with a good head on his shoulders” (actual words used during my initial rape/domestic abuse trial against him), was never what I imagined finally turning him in would look like. I really never thought that after everything, his sentence wouldn’t even be as long as our relationship. The original sentence was 5 years. After he got out on a Governor Cuomo Covid related prison loophole and broke his parole almost immediately, he was sentenced to another 2 on top of that. He has 6 left. We talk about how flawed our system is, but really seeing it is a different kind of punch. Women aren’t believed. There’s a reason so many of these crimes go unreported, and why so many women die at the hands of angry men. The hoops you have to jump through are miles high and on fire, and when you and the advocate show up armed only with your truth, your tears and a little evidence from one night at a bar when he got to drunk and forgot he was in public, it’s very easy for a judge to rule on the softer side. Because, as you all know, we’d never want to ruin a wealthy mans life unless there’s cold, hard, reason to.

Seeing his face when they read out his sentence, after years of terror, was satisfying to say the least and if I hadn’t been so numb to get through the hearing, I would’ve enjoyed it more. I will never forget going to a trusted friends house after that hearing and being completely overwhelmed with all of the emotions. Relief, guilt, sadness, anger, happiness, fear.. so many I couldn’t express.. all at once because the novocain wears off and numb isn’t forever and I fell asleep with their dog after a lot of crying. I’d be lying though if I said that 18 year old in me didn’t feel a loss. I grew up with incredible grandparents that did amazing things in teaching me how to love people and be a good human, but no one can protect us from everything. I also grew up with a mother who fights demons of her own and never had the capacity to love two kids. In a situation like that, someone becomes the punching bag. I became the punching bag and desperately looked for ways out, an opportunity to run.. and I ran right into him, who accepted me with open arms for the first time in my young, very inexperienced life.. and I followed him blindly and he was my whole world. Until I was 27, I didn’t have a guide. By the grace of God I landed into a community in Florida that slowly helped me realize my worth.

So.. what now.

How do we fix what our parents and past broke?

How do you reparent yourself?

The mental health journey is proving to be my biggest struggle yet. There’s no more outside factors, it’s just me and the lies that have fed me for years and altered how I think and feel and understand the world. I can feel myself frustrating people I’ve let close to me. I feel myself getting nervous and pushing people away. Sometimes I can catch it and regroup, other times that nasty little voice is too loud and I’m exhausted. My goodness though, how cool is it to learn so much about yourself? I know I have the capacity to love that broken part of me eventually, but it’s still hard to face. Getting to learn and understand the reason behind your actions is terrifyingly amazing. I am proud of this journey. Even when I don’t always come up on top. It’s hard to see the progress while you’re in it, but laying it all out like this.. I can safely say I’m never going to be that 18 year old girl ever again. Some days this journey looks different, some days the darkness wins, because healing isn’t linear. Sometimes it’s one step forward, 2 steps back… but nothing is too broken to fix.. and I will never call that darkness home again.

#lonliness #abuse survivor #survivor #domestic violent relationships #domestic violence #processing

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

She [10]

Warnings: non-consent sex (butt plug, vaginal sex); violence, spanking/whippinh

This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Steve Rogers’ life is turned upside down by a reporter.

Chapter Summary: Steve takes control.

Note: Hope you enjoy the last chapter!

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Steve

He walked around her and took another look at her ass. He could see a hint of the plug between her cheeks and his lashes fluttered hungrily. He came back around as the chain chafed down her stomach and she wriggled. Helpless, hopeless, she pulled with all her weight on the cuffs.

He grabbed one of the nipple clamps and pushed it even tighter around her flesh. She yelped and he released her as she stopped her struggle. Blood stained the silver, just a trickle, and he took a hot breath. He felt like a wolf, fangs bared and mouth salivating for his prey.

He looked down and watched his hands as they deftly worked at his belt. He unbuttoned his fly and pushed the zipper open. He paused and snaked the leather loose from the loops. He folded the belt in his hand and tested it against his palm. It sent a chill through him.

“N-no,” She gasped. “Please--”

He snapped the leather across her thigh and she gave a shrill shriek. She sobbed as she swung from the hook and fought to still herself on her tiptoes.

“What did I tell you about that word?” He hit her other thigh and she gave another shout. He hit her stomach and she sputtered as the breath went out of her. “Well!”

“I--” Her eyes searched his. Sheer terror struck her and he saw the strength seep from her. “I’m sorry, Captain.”

His cheek twitched and he neared her. He tilted his head as he trailed the leather down her stomach.

“Good,” He licked his lip. “You’re a quick learner and the faster you learn, the better.”

He grabbed her shoulder and turned her. He rested the belt against her ass as he stepped around her and peeked at the lens. Assured that she was center stage, he drew back and lashed her. Hard.

The strike reverberated around him and fed into the next. She let out noises he’d never heard before. Pure agony. Her feet slipped and he held her hip to keep her in place. He didn’t stop until she was sobbing. Until her head slumped in defeat and the welts on her ass were raised and some bleeding.

“Aw, no,” He cooed as he went around her. He grabbed her chin and lifted her head. Her tears streamed down her cheeks and dripped from her chin. “Don’t cry. You’re stronger than that.”

She tried to shake his hand away and he slapped her. The split in her lip began to well again. She gulped down her breath and her eyes rolled back. She was dizzy as she swayed and her head lolled. She sniffed and her feet scrambled beneath her until she could still herself.

“Ah, don’t you do that,” He grabbed her head and forced it up. “I’m not even close to done. If you pass out, I won’t stop.”

She nodded and he raised a brow.

“Yath, Captam,” She slurred and blood dribbled over her lip. She’d bitten her tongue.

He let her go and repositioned her again. The curve of her ass visible to the lens as he came up behind her. He rolled the top of his underwear down along with his jeans. He let out a moan as his cock brushed up against his boxer briefs. He pushed the denim and cotton to his thighs and stroked himself.

He brushed his tip against her tortured ass and she flinched. She moaned and the link of her cuffs clinked in the hook. He pressed his fingers between her cheeks and wiggled the plug. She whimpered and he slid his hand lower. He bent his knees and spread her folds with his finger and lined himself up with her entrance.

He paused. He was holding his breath and so was she. He rescinded his hand and latched onto her hip. He slammed into her so hard she was taken off her feet. She exclaimed and grunted through her teeth as she kicked in pain.

“I told you,” He snarled. “That toy was nothing compared to me.”

She shook and her fingers wrapped around the hook above her. He grabbed her shoulders and wiggled his hips as he tested her limits. She was tight. Very tight. She whimpered at every little move.

He thrust once, so harshly that she was once more off the ground. He repeated the motion several times until she was trembling in pain. Or pleasure. The way her cunt clenched around him was delicious.

He moved more steadily against her, slamming into her hard enough to jolt the plug in her ass. Her whines became laboured and desperate. He felt her cum and the wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of her grew louder.

He leaned against her as he reached down to her leg. He grasped behind her knee and bent her leg up and then the other. He lifted her so she was hanging from the hook and impaled entirely by his cock. He held her like that as he hammered into her from below. Her voice was stuttered and strained.

He loved the sound. The slick squelch of him inside her, the broken cries of the woman at his mercy. And they were all for him. His little secret. His hobby. He crashed into her relentlessly and felt the ecstasy bubble in his core.

He puffed as he felt the rise, too enamored to slow it. His flesh clapped against her as her juices dampened the front of his jeans. He squeezed her legs and bucked into her violently as he came. He bent his head and sank his teeth into her shoulder to keep from crying out. She yelped as he emptied himself inside of her.

When he was still, he let her legs down and she hung against him. He eased himself out of her and his cum spilled down her thigh and dripped onto the floor. He sighed and rounded her. He reached for the camera and removed it from the tripod. He pointed the lens at her face, her swollen cheek, her bloodied lips, her dazed eyes.

Then he turned her and showed her dripping cunt; a creamy mess. He cradled the camera in one hand and focused on her ass as he grabbed the stem of the plug. He began to pull it out but thought better of it as it was halfway out. He pushed it back in until her ring was tight around it once more.

“Actually, you can keep that in.” He said as he stood straight. “I’m not done with your cunt.”

🖋️

Steve had to keep from whistling as he walked through the halls of the compound. He doubted the man beside him would appreciate that. Nick Fury was never much for levity. And now was not the time for celebration; well not for what was left of the Avengers.

As they passed through the front doors, the familiar flash of cameras greeted them and Steve smiled. He looked around at the clamoring reporters. Not so troublesome as those paparazzi droning like flies. No, a pleasant little flock of birds waiting for him to dangle a worm.

“You sure about this?” Fury paused just outside. “It’s not too late.”

“No, I’m certain.” Steve preened. “It’s time.”

Fury huffed and stepped up to the podium, several microphones mounted before him. He flinched at the feedback which greeted him and he cleared his throat. The press quieted as he stared them down with his single stern eye.

“Good morning.” He said stiffly. “I am not one to mince words so I would like to get to the point of this conference and to hand this over to man who you all are here to see. So I will say it straight; we have brought you here today to bid farewell to one of our greatest heroes.” The crowd gasped and looked at each other and then Steve. “It is bittersweet for us but we wish Steve Rogers, Our Captain, the best in what is to come for him.”

Fury nodded and backed away. He waved Steve forward and the golden soldier happily took the spotlight. He smiled at the stunned crowd.

“It has been with a lot of deep and difficult consideration that I have decided that it is time for me to step aside. But do not mistake me. This is not because I am hiding or because I am running away from one little interview. In fact, I am thankful for that article because it made me see that my time has come and gone.”

He looked around and took a breath.

“I am leaving behind a good team. They are brave, smart, loyal, hardworking, and devoted. I leave you in good hands, better hands. But that is not to say that I will leave you entirely. Should the day come that you need me or my shield, I will be here. I will do as I have always done.

“But in the meantime, I will do something else. I have chosen to take on a new crusade. Starting right her in New York. All across the five boroughs. My new project is called Sarah’s Sanctuary. An infrastructure of shelters, youth centres, and food banks to be opened throughout the city to support all those pushed to borders of society; elderly, adult, children; men, women, LGBTQ. It will offer specialised services to all; housing, counseling, addiction treatment to things as basic as daily meals.

“Because as you know, you can take the boy out of Brooklyn, but you can’t take Brooklyn out of the boy.”

A dozen voices called out at once. Steve beamed at the reporters as they shouted their questions, desperate for more. He retreated with a wave and left them to their cameras and notepads. Fury followed him inside. They were silent for different reasons as they walked the halls. Both with too much on their minds.

🖋️

When Steve got home, he wasn’t surprised to find even more photographers than before waiting at his door. He skirted past them and closed them out as he stepped inside his Brooklyn walk-up. He had everything he needed; right here. He locked the door and continued past the front room and to the kitchen.

He took his time, admired the fruits of his hard work. Two boiled eggs, toast and butter, and a small cup of yogurt with granola on a metal tray. He balanced it all with a tall glass of water and unlocked the door to the stairs. He descended and passed through the thicker door at the bottom. It locked behind him.

His eyes found her right away. She was curled in a ball on the thin futon, her arms wrapped around her legs. Her face was swollen and dried blood flaked away from her lips. She was still naked and shivered. Her eyes opened slowly but she didn’t move.

He stopped beside the mattress and set the tray down beside it.

“Sit up.” He ordered.

She hesitated. Then slowly pushed herself to a sitting position. “Yeth, cap-tain,” She said through her clumsy lips. She flinched as her tender ass met the futon and the plug became more obvious. She covered her chest and kept her legs bent to shield herself.

“I brought you something to eat.” He said. She stared at the tray and frowned. “What?”

“Where are my clothes?” She asked and he growled.

“You wear whatever I give you or don’t give you.” He sneered. “And eat when I bring you food.”

“It’s cold in here,” She complained and reached for a slice of toast.

“You won’t be cold much longer,” He assured her. “Finish your meal, go get cleaned up, and I’ll make sure you’re sweating in no time.”

She blanched and gulped. She bit into the bread and looked at the floor. She winced again and he saw the glossiness in her eyes.

“I announced my resignation today,” He said with a grin. “So… you won.”

She looked at him, appalled. He snickered and paced the room.

“I’ll tell you what,” He turned to her and struck that famous stance. Hands on hips, squared jaw, stoic gaze. “If you do me a favour, I’ll get you a blanket.” He watched her swallow, realisation struck her harder than he had. “You see, I’m an easy man to work with. Once you figure that out, you’ll life will get a whole lot better.”

END

#Steve Rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark fic #she #fic #dark!fic #series #au #mcu #marvel #captain america

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green-eyed-whumpster · 4 years

Text

My OC Universe: Rowan 58

I accidentally uploaded the wrong chapter. I’m sorry. I share custody of a single brain cell with my friend and they currently have it for the week.

Chapter 58 Summary: Sweet, sweet, sexy catharsis! Rowan finally snaps in the face of his abuse. (Taggers: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @much-ado-about-whumping, @abitefullofeverything, @whump-me-all-night-long, @sky-or-something-idfk, @tears-and-lilies)

Trigger Warnings: Reference to previous abuse, verbal abuse, dehumanisation.

As promised, Rowan lurched awake to find a guard rousing him for Marie and Cordelia. Alexander was absent this time, a difference that unsettled Rowan. He was so used to seeing him and his mother together that it felt wrong when they were not.

“Oh, my dear husband,” Marie smirked, tone sarcastic and cruel. “You do not look well at all!” He growled at her and jerked, angrily releasing some of his fury through the useless act. He looked mad, dark rings under his eyes, a flood of dried blood from his nose to his chest. “Please allow me a small experiment,” She said, letting her careful eyes wander to Rowan. “I was hoping to ask you both a question.” Cordelia lowered William’s gag as sharp footsteps clicked along the hallways. William’s face lit up at the prospect of rescue and he leaned forward. “Hey! I’m the King! Get in here this instant!” He demanded, not considering the fact that the sound was present before Marie ordered the removal of his muzzle, and so wasn’t likely to belong to a sympathetic creature. As if to accentuate this, Marie chuckled softly, rolling her eyes as the footsteps stopped right outside the door and the tall shadow of the figure obscured the doorway. Mere moments before revealing himself Rowan caught a whiff of a familiar perfume, placing the name as Merek’s face appeared and he stood beside Marie. “You-Mer-how dare you betray me like this!” William roared and Cordelia curled her fingers into his, now unkempt hair, ripping his head back and forcing a whine from his throat. “If you do not remain silent,” She rumbled dangerously. “Then we will take extreme precautions to keep you silent.” The threat was clear. And William wasn’t finished with use of his tongue just yet. He had to content himself with glowering at his duplicitous advisor, perhaps hoping he combust from the sheer hatred seething from his face. “You never mentioned that your tradeswoman was a mercenary thug.” He snarled at Marie. “She certainly has her uses.” The Queen replied proudly, smiling at Cordelia. “What a strangely satisfying sight.” Merek commented curiously, drawing attention to him. “I think it could only be made better with tears.” Marie smirked. “As if I would ever allow you to see me humiliated like that.” William growled, earning a grin from the pair. “We’ll see,” Marie sighed, picking at an invisible imperfection on her thumbnail. “I’ve reconsidered what I said the previous evening,” She said, catching the unwavering attention of both imprisoned creatures. “If I were to say that one of you would be released, who would you choose?” It was a pretty obvious question, and no one was surprised to hear William speak first. “Me, of course.” Marie glanced towards Rowan, who’s face had fallen and had curled against the wall, already defeated. “What about you?” He glanced up and shrugged. “Why would you choose me? I’m not even worth the dirt under your shoe.” “What if I weren’t to choose? What if I made you both choose?” She asked. “I am the King. I should leave!” William demanded. “How am I supposed to rival that? Even with the promise of death, I couldn’t face condemning another to it.” Rowan sighed softly. “I’d strangle the slut myself if it meant I could take back my throne!” Something in that moment shattered.

Rowan could almost physically feel it, his soul, cracking from the strain of hiding and suppressing his feelings for so long. Suddenly his breathing came fast, and he felt unfamiliar rage course through his veins. “You never loved me at all, did you?” He asked softly, retrieving a scoff from the King. “You were a pretty little cock-sleeve. And a pretty poor one at that.” “You gave me jewellery, you trusted me in your bed, you showered me with praise, and what, it was all pretend?” William sighed exasperatedly and rolled his eyes. “It was like having a puppy.” He said. “You keep if loyal, but when you’re tired of it you drown it.”

Rowan had been compared to animals before. He had been used in metaphors like this before. He had been completely dehumanised to his face before. But now it was just too much. Too humiliating to realise he was, and always had been, nothing. “You tortured me!” He yelled, feeling his voice crack as it was raised above its normal pitch. “You-you allowed your men to ravage me and humiliate me! And made me believe that you were saving me from them when in fact you were just transferring ownership!” Tears pricked his eyes like needles, tears that had been forced down almost since he arrived.

“I was abused, by you, and your staff, and your men, I was raped! And you blamed me for it! Forced me to witness as you had them executed, threatening to do the same to me if I ‘let’ it happen again! You forced me to get drunk to entertain you and your friends! You let everyone talk down to me and talk about me like I wasn’t there! Or like I couldn’t hear what they were saying, like I didn’t understand every word they called me! You poisoned me for your own entertainment!”

The hatred and frustration broke over his lashes and he struggled to keep his voice from wobbling and relinquishing his power before he had finished. “I was forced to beg for you to rape and abuse me! To thank you for the opportunity to be taken! To grovel at your feet while you fed me scraps of your food like a pet! I wasn’t even human to you! Just some creature that no one would object to you mistreating! You gave me to your friend to fuck! And when he tried to murder me you had me punished! I was refused any morsel of dignity while your advisor had the soldiers line up and remind me of what you claimed to save me from!”

He felt the eyes on him, every one, and turned to catch the eye of one of the guards at the door. “I remember you!” He chuckled in a weak attempt to cover the way he was falling apart. “You called me a desperate whore, good for only one thing! Was I? Was I good?” They had the shame to look away, turning their back on their mistake. “You had me branded! I will permanently be marked as your property! Men sign their family crest on their weapons, or their silverware, or their clothes! You put it on a person and reduced them to an item you owned. You tricked me into thinking that you had saved me from there, too! That you had missed and desired me! But it was all a ploy to get your stupid, uneducated, whore of a consort to actually believe that you cared for him! You tricked me into feeling some sort of fondness, or care for you. I felt sorry for you when we were first brought down here! I empathised with you, explained away your cruel words as simply being unused to not being in control, but no, that was just you when you were no longer bothered by how your creature felt!” There was a brief pause before a thought occurred to Rowan and he scoffed. “You call me ‘pet’.” He whispered, sniffing heavily as his eyes locked with William’s. “I would wager, I would say money but it’s obvious by how you came to possess me that I have none, so I would bet my life, that you don’t know how old I am,” He said and laughed. “Let alone…tell me, William, what’s my name?” Silence. “What is it?” He roared, pulling against the chains. “Why on Earth would I know?” William replied. Voice just soft enough that Rowan could realise with relief that he was maybe startled by this barrage of his sins against the boy. “Why would you? It’s just a person. A human being that you claimed as your own purely because he was pretty. If I were an average-looking thing you would have left me to die in that barracks. With blood on my ass, and sperm in my hair, and snot on my face. And never would have even given a second thought to the person I was or the people who…the-the people who…” Missed me. “I hate you.” He whispered after a moment. “I despise you. I abhor you. I detest you. I’ve killed two people who both tried to kill me first and felt like dying because of it. But, I think if I killed you, if I strangled you myself, I might finally be able to sleep at night.” He sobbed, too afraid to turn his gaze from anyone else but William. “Not even the Gods could have dreamt up a creature as cruel as you,” He gasped finally, the anger flickering out of him like a candle flame in a breeze. “You are a manifestation of sin, and evil, and sadism.” He felt cold now. Empty. Like all that had sustained him for the three years since he was stolen from Peter, was his suppressed disgust, and now that it was gone, he had nothing left inside of him.

A piece died with every time he was raped.

More of his innocence stripped away, until he was left, a shell, a dried leaf that William crumbled into dust just to hear the sound of him break.

#whump #medieval whump #my writing #oc #Rowan #William #Marie #Cordelia #dehumanisation

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inforapound · 4 years

Text

Ease The Dawn Pt.2 Ch.17

A/N - Will get the final chapter up this week. Previous Chapter 16 . Before starting this story, I read that the real Aethelswith was so little, that when she passed away in Italy, they used a child’s coffin as she was well under 5 feet tall. She was described as being built like a sparrow. I always picture them with this massive height/size difference as the stories say the real Ivar was over 7 feet.

Pairing - Ivar and Aethelswith Words - 1,500

Warnings - Angst, human sacrifice, death, sorrow, mentions of rape, true love.

Standing in the hall, Aethelswith clung to Ivar's arm; Hvitserk, on her far side, stood with his hand subtly outstretched as if she might, at any moment, lose her balance and tip over. Back straight against the wall, Brana waited near the entrance to the corridor, her expression was rigid, and her cold eyes stayed fixed on the hall doors.

Angling down, Ivar pressed a kiss to the top of Aethelswith's loosely braided hair, murmuring quiet praise and soft encouragement. Letting go of his arm, she adjusted the ties of her green dressing gown around her spare waist. The way the fabric draped from her weak posture gave her the appearance of a starved child; evidence that restored health was still a ways away.

At the sound of approaching voices, she squared her shoulders, lifting her chin, as Loni and Ruud shoved Freydis through the doors. Still wearing her beige dress, her hands were shackled in front and at the sight of Ivar, her eyes bulged with fear. Pushing her onward, they stopped a few meters back and she lowered her face in a futile attempt to avoid his scrutiny. Instinctively, Aethelswith reached back to Ivar and squeezed his arm, feeling his body tense and sensing his desire to drive his blade into the top of her skull.

Opening his mouth to speak, Aethelswith tightened her grip and glanced up to him, wordlessly conveying her insistence.

"You do not need to see any of this," he spoke quietly.

"But I do."

Looking back to a cowering Freydis, Aethelswith squinted, her sensitive eyes still adjusting to the return of her sight. Even with the glare of the sun streaming through the open doors, she could see the filth on Freydis' dress and hands and caked under her nails. Her skin looked grimy and her previously shiny hair was dull. Aethelswith wanted to laugh, cackle like a witch, noticing Freydis' dry, chapped lips, perhaps even offer her a damp cloth to suck water or poisoned milk from. She should take mercy, attempt to understand and possibly forgive but none of that felt brutal enough for a girl who had been working her nocuous plan from the start.

And yet, nothing about Freydis rotting in a dingy cell for weeks while Aethelswith recovered enough to attend her hearing, pleased her. She felt no satisfaction or sense of peace, only rage so rich, at times, it took her breath. The image of Ivar sitting on his throne moments from giving his life plagued her sleep. Even awake, it seemed burned into her mind, visible still when she closed her eyes.

And Freydis had done that; spoon-fed sadness and devastation to all those Aethelswith loved and as a result, forced Ivar to place a blade to his throat. Blinking away the image, she steadied her thoughts, hoping her voice sounded stronger than she felt.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Letting go of Ivar's arm, she straightened, clasping her hands in front, her face entirely void of emotion.

"Please, my lady," Freydis whined, "I could not explain this to anyone but you. I did not want to do this; any of this. I was forced. I had no choice."

Air shot out of Ivar's nostrils and his body vibrated, holding back by only a thread. Frowning, Aethelswith stepped closer, uncertain of her meaning.

"He forced me!" Freydis squawked. "He made me do it."

"Who?" Aethelswith narrowed her eyes.

"Burgred!" Freydis cried.

"That's it!" Ivar roared, reaching for the ax on his belt.

Eyes flashing, Aethelswith's hand flew out to stop him, latching onto his wrist and pulling him closer to calm him. Grunting with both frustration and resignation, he stepped in behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Nodding, she squeezed his hand giving assurance that she was not phased.

"My lady," Freydis pleaded, lifting her shackled hands as if in prayer. "He threatened the life of my child sister. Keeps her like a whore...his carnal slave. Does all sorts of depraved things to her. Promised to release her if I did this, otherwise, he would kill her. She is only fifteen-years-old!" Freydis cried again. "You would do the same for your own flesh and blood, I know you would. You would poison anyone if it meant saving the life of someone you love. She is only a child!"

Horrified, Aethelswith covered her mouth, "I have known the brutality of that man," she nodded, lowering her hand, "I do understand the lengths a person would go to to escape it, I do," she nodded again.

Closing her eyes, Freydis shoulders settled with relief.

"Freydis, look at me?" Aethelswith called in a gentle tone. "Do I look stupid to you, though?" she lifted her brows. "Hmm?"

Frowning, Freydis shook her head, panic creeping back into her eyes.

"There is no question in my mind that you conspired with Burgred, and that you are, in fact, Saxon but I do not believe he has your sister." Lowering her chin, Aethelswith's expression hardened. "You are a power-hungry liar."

Disgusted, Ivar let out a threatening growl, the sound rumbling through Aethelswith's back. Stepping forward, Freydis lifted her hands like a beggar making Loni yank her back with a tug of the chain fastened to her cuffs.

"It was your husband's doing!" Freydis shouted, lifting her face in defiance.

"He is not my husband!" Aethelswith screamed. "You are standing in front of my husband. In fact," she pointed at the floor. "Kneel! Get onto your knees before the king."

Grabbing her shoulders, Loni shoved her down, Freydis squealing as she landed hard on the floor.

"Please," Freydis whimpered, looking back up.

"Further, Burgred does not care for little girls," Aethelswith sneered. "Does not care for girls at all," her eyes bore into Freydis, "As I learned on my wedding night when he took me like a man would take another man."

Freydis' eyes flashed at the revelation and every person in the room shifted on their feet. Hugging Aethelswith tighter to his front, Ivar leaned in pressing another kiss behind her ear, whispering how strong she was.

"Your stories fool no one." Aethelswith continued, her voice growing steadier. "Burgred wanted me dead and you wanted to be a queen, you stupid, stupid girl," she shook her head. "Did you truly believe you could take Ivar from me?" Raising her hand, she touched the faint scar across the top of her temple. "This will remind me, each day, how close I came to losing everything."

Turning her head, she pressed her face back against Ivar's chest.

"You are certain?" he asked in a low voice, his lips still touching her hair. At her nodded reply, he reached to his belt and withdrew the gold and ruby dagger from his scabbard, offering it for her to take.

"Hold her," Aethelswith ordered the men, taking the knife and stepping forward out from the security of Ivar's arms.

Panic struck and Freydis jolted forward, thrashing against Loni and Ruud's grip. Fighting, she spat and shrieked like a frenzied animal being pulled under water. Cinching up the chain, Ruud and Loni grabbed her under her arms, bracing her in place.

"Last words?" Aethelswith's asked staring down into her wild eyes.

"I ask our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ to receive me," Freydis spat, out of breath from her struggle.

Reaching down, Ruud grabbed the hair at the nape of her neck, yanking her head back so she could not look away.

Pressing the edge of the blade to the skin of her taut throat, Aethelswith leaned closer.

"You have no god," she whispered, "and now you will bleed like the sheep that you are."

In one swift sweep, Aethelswith cut the width of her pale throat; Freydis' eyes flashing wide as dark blood spewed out, streaming down her front, the faintest sound of air rushing from the slit in her skin. Silently, Freydis' body sagged as her blood drained and her round blue eyes lost focus.

Grabbing Aethelswith from behind, Ivar spun her away, wrapping his arms around her, and hugged her to his chest. Collapsing against him, she let out a choked sob with the dagger still dangling in her hand.

Thick blood began to pool on the floor and Ivar led her away back to the base of the thrones. Without a word, Aethelswith stopped and turned to face him, peering up into his worried eyes. Clutching her arms, he leaned in, studying her shocked face, the colour now entirely drained from her cheeks. His eyes flitted down to the dagger she held in the palm of her bloodied hands.

"I used this knife in the way my grandfather intended, defending what is mine," she too glanced down at the blade. "I think he would be proud of me today. Are you proud of me?" she looked back up, searching his face, his bright eyes marveling down at her.

"Always."

Lifting the knife higher, she cleared her throat, "I give you this family knife...my grandfather's knife as a martial offering, stained with the blood of our enemies. I pledge my life and heart to you and promise that I will allow nothing to part us. Ever."

Leaning closer, he pressed his forehead to hers, his eyes alive with adoration.

"Ivar Ragnarsson, will you marry me?"

@youbloodymadgenius @whenimaunicorn @ceridwenofwales @jaydelesley4 @sweeneythots @funmadnessandbadassvikings @redama @mdredwine @didiintheblog @londongal2810 @fields-and-fields-of-poppies @littlecarolina94 @oddsnendsfanfics @youbelongeverywhere @blonddnamedhandz @hecohansen31 @naaladareia

#Ivar The Bonless #ivar fanfic #vikings ivar #vikings smut #ivar smut #ivar ragnarson #ivar lothbrok #ivar and oc #ivar and princess #ivar love story #ease the dawn #ease the dawn part 2 #ivar and aethelswith #ivar slow burn #ivar anst #aethelswith #king ivar

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courtorderedcake · 4 years

Text

Hallow : ch xxi - CSSNS 2019

“The Goblin King was prepared to host the Darkness, stealing Fae women away to their corrupted lands underneath the ground as concubines. The Darkness chose another in his stead, but not before this selected vessel enacted a devastating attack in its vengeance, revealing its hatred & rage. The battle was a lesson the old kings had forgotten; never underestimate an opponent.

Many more lives were lost as they razed over any who dared defy The Goblin King’s will. Only the pure love of our rulers united in matrimony, breaking the Vorpal Dagger, sealed the darkness and the Goblin menace away. The light flourished under their fair rule, and the queen bore a child as pure as moon beams, swan feathers, and starlight. They lived happily ever after, and shall be written in history as Heroes for All Time.”

This is the history Princess Emma memorizes from the day she is born, paraded about and presented only with the highest protection. The palace is a cage she wishes to escape, desperately. Not careful what wishes she made, Emma discovers history is written by the victors - The Dark One has an entirely different version of the events that took place.

Read on AO3 here.

Rated E for explicit themes, Mature situations, and Fae fuckery.

Written for @cssns

Ch / ?? - In which Pandora's one gift is given.

Sand poured down on Emma, her head spinning and wind knocked from her lungs from the fall to the cave’s floor. They were bathed in darkness now, the light of day Killian had disappeared into blotted out as she struggled to stand. Jasmine yelled from somewhere on her left, or somewhere on what could be her left, and Aladdin was groaning painfully somewhere that seemed to be below her.

It became harder to walk as more sand poured over her, anger and fear joined with grief, the unexpected stumble making her fall forward into the shifting grains.

He was gone.

She remembered everything.

And he was gone .

Emma screamed, letting her lungs work through their disuse and abuse in one long banshee chord, her fury rising in her veins. Kindling sparked, embers lit into a broad fan of flame that seemed to burn her alive. Magic exploded around her, bursting forth to bring the caves into a brilliant daylight that cast off the dark walls. Sand swirled around her in an elegant arc, up to the cave’s tall ceilings as it solidified into glass pillars, everything falling away at once to only the sound of her ragged cries.

Pushing herself to press against the walls of whatever enchantment covered the cave, Emma attempted to pull herself outside of the cavern, but could not. She cursed in frustration, tears pricking at her eyes.

“Emma, Princess, I am so sorry.” Aladdin approached cautiously, Emma’s head snapping up to stare at him. “I tried, I tried to -"

"Don’t you dare talk to her!” Jasmine hissed, moving in from another direction, over a large slope of sand. “You said you loved me, then you tried to murder me, and you think you have any right to apologize to anyone?"

"Jasmine, it’s not like that! I didn’t - I had no choice! I tried to tell you so many times, but I couldn’t -”

"Bullshit!” Jasmine screamed. “You knew my magic was weak, I told you how my mother died from this burden, you knew that I was absolutely terrified while I played these noble intrigues to curry favor, you knew my fears and you ran to my enemy to tell him every one of my vulnerabilities -"

"Stop it! Stop, just stop it!” Emma yelled, scrubbing at her face. She stood shakily, moving around the glass pillar she had made. Her hands shook, the feeling of being drenched in power overwhelming. “I need to - We all need to get out of here, so help me find a way out or get out of my way, but stop wasting time!"

Her attempts to magic herself and them out of the cave useless; Jasmine jumped back slightly at the burst of magic that escaped Emma, the blast knocking Aladdin off his feet.

He let out a rough groan, sitting up to look at Jasmine with a look of longing Emma recognized. It hurt to even acknowledge. All she wanted was Killian, and what if he wasn’t safe, if they actually killed him or made the Darkness worse? He had kissed her goodbye again, chosen for her again after everything they had gone through. She knew that they could beat the Darkness if he could just trust her, if he could just let her love him, and love her in return.

And now… And now —

Her brain raced as they dug through the leftover sand on the floor. If she had to count every last particle of sand in the desert, she would just to have him hold her again. There was so much, so much she hadn’t said; so much they had only dreamt of together, so many times she had wanted his touch but without understanding why . Only to have him leave her again.

"Look, look at this!” Aladdin was pointing to a crevice in the ground, broken apart by glass. Below it, a light shimmered in the form of a torch, intricately carved stairs curving down into the bowels of the cavern. Resting on a stair, glinting like starlight, was the shard on its broken chain. Killian had fought for her. He believed that this was fighting for them; no matter how wrong it was, he was trying. He was fighting in the only way he knew with the Darkness in him, and was willing to be torn to pieces for it. Her thoughts were so selfish and naive compared to his.

Carefully climbing down the thick glass, she picked up the shard. Peering down the torchlit corridor of steps that led down further, Emma tied up her skirts and began to move downwards. None of them spoke, Jasmine staying close as Aladdin trailed behind with pining glances and a skittish pace.

They all came to a halt at a door, clearly enchanted by ancient magic. A flowing language Emma could only recognize part of was written in the stone.

“A heart that lies craves the answer that allows entrance?” Emma asked, tracing the words.

“It wants truth. It says, ‘the answer is what the heart that is fed on untruths desires’, that only this will open the door. That’s what a dishonest heart craves the most, the truth to combat its lies,” Jasmine sighed. “So, truths… alright.”

Stepping in front of the door, Jasmine looked over to where Emma and Aladdin stood before looking back, clearing her throat.

“My truth is this: I never wanted to rule. My mother died saving Agrabah from a great cataclysm, which was to be my fate until she saw it. She sacrificed herself for me only to have me turn out to be only mildly clairvoyant. Grandfather locked himself away from us to hide here. After my father was killed, I took over out of necessity. This future is - It’s nothing as my mother described. It’s empty. It’s lonely.”

“I miss not having to constantly search the future for what is coming, I miss talking to my parents, I miss having friends or loved ones I could trust, I miss singing with my birds, and I miss…” Jasmine turned to look at Aladdin. “I told you everything about myself, showed you my world while you promised me that you would do the same. Why did you pretend to care about me? Why did you lie to me at every turn? I don’t want to miss you, and I hate that I let myself ever allow you to know anything about me."

The door shook, grinding open slightly.

"You aren’t innocent here either, Jasmine!” Aladdin hissed. “If you want truth, start there. You recognize me like this. You know who I am, and how your father let the guards tie me to that post for days, all because I stole a loaf of bread. You know that I was taken in again for stealing a melon, receiving lashes. You knew they called me a street rat, that I was an orphan deemed to be better on the streets than in a home. All the while, you looked right past me, as if I didn’t exist. I never expected you to ever see me as anything because you are royalty, but you staring into my eyes like that only to leave me at the mercy of the shopkeeper, the guards, your outdated laws that let my family starve… I became consumed by it. I wanted vengeance. I wanted it after your mother died, and after your father was poisoned.”

When rumors spread in the underground of a challenger to your fledgling rule, I jumped at the chance to be useful. I was a thief, no one would hire me after your father marked me as an untouchable. I was beaten for scraps of food while told only my fleas would mourn me above, but below, I was treated like a king. I rose quickly in the ranks as a dependable pickpocket and artifact hunter. That’s when Jafar had me procure the magic from this cave. I had no idea I would be cursed with the plight of the Djinn, bound to a lamp he could use. Jafar only had mumbled about making a Dark One, Arthur chiming in about some sword called Excalibur, before I found myself bound as a slave to them at this very door. The Djinn inside gives the holder the curse, but the wielder is the one who holds the newly made Gene’s lamp. Finding myself inside of it and being summoned to do their bidding was overwhelming. “

Jafar was quick to remind me I wasn’t as good as a Dark One, but I was determined to prove myself. He couldn’t be a Genie, but he could be an all powerful sorcerer instead of a mediocre magician. Hades and Arthur came next, each with their own selfish wishes to make themselves more powerful. I wanted revenge and a better life for the poorest in Agrabah. They wanted Agrabah to burn. We began to see each other in a new light.”

It was Arthur’s second in command who pivoted them to you. I know now that he was one of your guards, and I’m sorry for your loss. Lancelot was a great and honorable man. I never understood why or how he could stand with Arthur until he was gone, labeled a traitor. I owe him a great debt for pushing Arthur to introduce me to you, and to his indomitable belief that you would fight for Agrabah’s people. Lancelot pushed for an insider that would gain the trust of the nobles, ferreting out weaknesses. Arthur agreed that the best way to use me was to spy on you. He used my magic to create Ab’dua with me as its fake prince, so I could bid for your hand in marriage. When I fell in love with you, it complicated things. Genies can’t use magic to take life, create life, or create love - these magics are too ancient, they are lost to us and our workings. We can’t access the light or the darkness, but can access the chaos of the hidden spaces. “

I could not kill you, no matter how much they wished it, but I pretended to attempt it. I delayed their wishes by pretending, stalling, and proposing alternatives. I broke the Genie laws and told them no to keep you safe. I refused to do as I was told. I paid the price.” Aladdin gestured to the long scars that now ran down his arms, no longer the bright blue.

He stepped toward Jasmine as she backed up slightly, wavering. “When we flew to watch fireworks and you admitted you wanted to be just a normal peasant woman, I thought they would understand. I trusted them like an idiot. I couldn’t tell you I was a Genie without breaking your trust entirely or putting you at risk.” Aladdin raked a hand through his hair, laughing darkly. “They were already looking for other options since I refused to kill you. I thought our love would be enough, I thought I could keep them at bay, but then Jafar -

"Jafar attacked when I rebuffed his advances,” Jasmine interrupted. “I remember.”

“He tried to ra -” Aladdin tried to growl angrily, but she interrupted.

“I don’t need to relive the experience,” Jasmine bit out harshly. “In any case, it revealed him as a monster, a thief, and an unequivocal liar.”

“He is a monster. I couldn’t follow him any longer, but he was my master. I fought not to kill you, and I fought not to kill Emma. I made sure Killian could be freed, because I knew that he had deep feelings for the princess. I tried to do everything I could in my power. It was ripping me apart and I was lucky to survive… Which I’ve never been happier about. Please consider my apology, and allow me to protect you fully.”

The door slid open further, and Emma tried to push through. The gap was still just slightly too small.

“My truth is that… I love Killian.” The door did not open. “But that’s the truth!” she hissed, and Jasmine shot her an annoyed look.

“Try something a little less obvious, and more vulnerable.”

Emma paused, trying to think of something else that she could say. “I love my family? The United Realms? I…"

The door did not move. Emma screamed in frustration, pounding on it, tears suddenly burning in her eyes.

"Why!?” she screeched desperately, the howl nothing compared to what raged inside. “You want truth? Then why? Why is any of this, why does all of this suffering fall on me? Why can’t I just - why am I so useless?"

"Emma…” Jasmine whispered approaching in worry, but Emma brushed her off.

“I am so weak, I have had to be saved or pretend to be strong this entire time, to rely on lessons that never prepared me for any of this, and I’ve watched my people - my friends - get hurt again and again. I’ve watched them die ! Why? Are there no just gods? Is it my fault because of my royal pedigree I got by some prophetic birthright? Why can’t I just - why can’t I be stronger?” Emma cried, half heartedly pounding on the door with her shaking fists. “I just - I need to be stronger, because as far as I know everyone I have ever loved is gone, and they could be dead -"

"Emma. That’s enough!” Jasmine snapped, pulling Emma up firmly. She looked hard, lips set and her dark eyes glinting. “You are strong. How much have you faced? How much have you done? This is not your truth. Love can be an easy truth, and it’s not one needed here. Reach deeper.” Jasmine gripped Emma’s shoulders, giving a shake, before hugging her tightly.

“Jasmine, I don’t -"

"You do know, Princess,” Aladdin chimed in. Both women broke their embrace, looking at him expectantly. “Well, I mean -” He blushed, shuffling slightly. “Look. This is how I see it: you choose to find the best in people, like a superpower. You choose to find the truth of that person. You see good in Killian. You see… You saw good in me. Emma, your truth is not dark, and it’s not light; it’s in between, it’s both, it’s -"

"It’s hope,” Emma finished for him. “Pandora released all the terrors upon the world, until all that was left was hope. It clung to her skirts, multiplying for the eternity she walked the earth trying to undo her wrongs. I hold it in my heart, and I -” The door moved slightly, and she managed a wobbling smile, continuing on.

“I know despite everything there is hope. Hope for me to find strength, to beat Nil, to save my parents, and to save Killian. I have hope that the Darkness will not stop my love from reaching him.” The door shuddered violently, sliding cleanly as dust and dirt rose from the ground.

“I have hope that one day this will be over, and the Fae - all Fae - will be able to live better lives than they had before. Lives that are hopeful, as we keep moving forward into becoming better.” Emma’s voice wavered, the door wide in front of her. “No one is going to save me, to keep these hopes alive, except for me. I have to fight. I have to punch back.”

Jasmine hugged her tightly, laughing with glee, Aladdin joining them in an embrace as they all whooped with happiness.

Aladdin fit his palm into hers with a squeeze, Jasmine pulling him in for a tighter hug until shock registered. She jumped back as if she had been burnt, a reddening blush spreading across her cheeks. Looking sheepish, Aladdin opened his mouth to say something, but lost it when he looked to where Emma was gawking.

On a stone pedestal, raised and lit by some source of magical light, sat a golden lamp carved with ornate markings that shone in the cave, brighter than jewels.

Jasmine stepped forward and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Looking at the lamp, she called out.

“Alibaba, Prince of Thieves, Djinn All Father and my Grandfather, I ask you to please wake."

"Grandfather?” Emma squeaked, only to be hushed by both Aladdin and Jasmine. The cave rumbled, blue smoke filtering slowly from the lamp.

“Ten thousand years in a lamp will give you such a crick in the neck!” a voice thundered, a man appearing from a column of smoke. He wore a bejeweled turban and kaftan, his deep brown eyes strikingly familiar. They blinked in surprise as he looked down at where they stood. “Granddaughter? Why have you come? I have told your father that I will never reconsider - "

"My father has been gone now for several years,” Jasmine stated with a calm that bordered a line of steel. “He was poisoned. I took over in his stead and have ruled without incident until now, which is why I have broken your solitude to ask for aid.”

“Aid?” the Djinn asked, crossing his arms, his head falling to one side while his eyes surveyed Jasmine. “I will not help you fight some war, or subject you to the fate your mother sacrificed herself to prevent. If that is what you ask of me, you have only to receive disappointment.”

“Grandfather, I need the power of the Djinn at my side; not locked away under the sands in the middle of nowhere -"

"Out of the question. No. Your mother did not want the fate of the Djinn tied to your life, and she gave everything for it.” His eyes moved to rest on Emma. “I swore on her name and her memory that the only magic I will perform is creating our kind. You are already part Djinn, and the thief has been freed from his servitude. That leaves only your powerful friend here.”

“Power? Me?” Emma scoffed. “I know my magic is strong and I’m supposed to be some sort of savior, but I promise you this world has turned that idea on its head. I can barely save myself.”

The Djinn laughed, and looked at Jasmine. “The Savior of legend? Well, I never thought - I never imagined this. That means it’s my time. A new All Father must be chosen, your presence heralds my daughter’s protective barriers on Agrabah being broken. It’s time for me to finally rejoin her in the chaos from whence we were born.”

Jasmine blinked, looking as confused as Emma felt. “Grandfather, what are you talking about? Please, just come with us, or give me more than just this intuition, give me the magic my mother had -"

"The crown fitted with the diamond in the rough, delivered by the savior unknowingly, in exchange for shining her light on the Darkness. The diamond taking my place, to be seated on the throne with the crown. It was foretold, and now must come to pass before the Darkness is given a new host.” The Djinn stared at Aladdin, Emma trying to puzzle out his cryptic phrases.

“I need - please, if they’re trying to free Killian from that…” Emma trailed off, unwilling to think about what Killian might be enduring. “Please just help us. If I’m supposed to be some savior, help me!"

"I am. I have the diamond in hand, and he will be forever embedded in the crown as the prophecy foretells.” The Djinn turned, his eyes fixating on Aladdin. “Your power will be challenged immediately, and for that I am sorry. Take comfort knowing that your reign will be long.”

Aladdin sputtered, looking between Emma and Jasmine. “I don’t know anything about what he’s talking about, can someone please -"

"You have so much power, Savior, it’s fascinating. It’s as if the solution to the scale tipping is you.” The Genie Father’s dark blue eyes grew darker to a coal black, and Emma felt its magic pulse through her own, as if it rippled through her body. “Light casts no shadow, and can blind those who wield it with reckless abandon as effectively as darkness. Be sure to walk your path with careful steps… I look forward to waking again, if just to hear the end of your tale Princess Emma. For the light loving the darkest recesses where it cannot ever reach is a romantic tragedy worthy of telling.”

His visage became foggy, body falling away like a fading mirage. A stillness fell, as if the entirety of the cavern had hushed in expectation, everything gathering where the Djinn had been. Emma could feel the magic, its pull as it ate itself, condensing in implosion. As soon as she felt it taper into almost non-existence, it exploded outwards, ruffling her hair in its breeze. There were bright flashes of a woman with Jasmine’s eyes, her dark hair streaked with a shock of sky blue. She smiled widely, bouncing a toddler on her knees, the memory changing to a young girl child holding the woman’s hand. She turned, looking back, a perfect miniature of Jasmine. Jasmine gasped from behind where Emma had stood, Aladdin floating slightly as the shimmering copper spots seemed to burn around him.

The Genie Father laughed, his disembodied voice echoing in the cavern. “Be great and do things this universe needs. Do not get stuck forgotten beneath the sands, used up and all alone. Learn from my mistakes, and be better than I ever was. So long, Genie Father, leader of the free Djinn. Goodbye, my beloved granddaughter. I hope to one day hear tales of you, as well.”

Aladdin fell to the ground on his hands and knees, eyes closed as the air stopped shimmering around him. The old and ornate lamp on the stone crumbled to dust, and Emma caught the golden glint of a new lamp appearing in Aladdin’s hands. He gaped at it with wide eyes.

“Aladdin!” Jasmine rushed to his side, pushing him to his side despite his annoyed grunt.

“What just happened?” he asked, looking deeply confused. She looked him over as he began to grin, staring at her while she fussed over his exposed skin, looking for anywhere he had been hurt.

“I think,” Jasmine said slowly, shaking off her disbelief, “I think he made you the All Father. Which makes you a permanent fixture of my court. You serve as my second, my defense minister, my sorcerer - ”

“I guess you’re stuck with me, eh?” he teased. She only shook her head without speaking and he sighed, grin softening. “Jasmine, I’m -"

"You have to maintain the barriers, you have to help me keep my people safe, and he just gave it to you without any instruction.” Jasmine’s breathing came quick, her composure falling away to fear. “How could he do this to me, to Agrabah -"

” Our people,“ Aladdin replied softly. "I have to keep our people safe. And I will, Sultana. I’d fight to my last breath for everyone in Agrabah to have food, and to be protected. I swear to you, I will master the magic we need to keep Agrabah out of harm’s way."

"You told me the truth and I hated you for it. How can we work together now with everything, all of it between us? This is all too much - ”

“I have faith we will be alright, and faith has gotten me through most of this life. When I didn’t have food, I had faith I would soon. The hope for something better, that spite of living just because dying would be easy - I had faith I would change Agrabah, and change you. I was wrong in the end.” Aladdin cupped Jasmine’s cheek, her face tilting into the touch. “You ended up seeing through me every time I tried to get anything past you. It’s been the most mystifying prospect as a thief to be so easily laid out by you - and not only because of your fortune telling. I did not so much as change you as you changed me.”

“I foresee you stealing my heart from me, Aladdin. Especially now that you are royalty, and no laws have to change for us to be together.” Jasmine’s eyebrow raised slightly, and Emma’s heart ached for Killian. “But first, let’s get back the Princess’ guide.

"Call me Al.” He smirked, and with a snap of his fingers, they stood in the blinding sun of the desert, sand swirling around them. “Let’s go free the Dark One.”

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The trip to wherever they were was arduous; Killian’s feet blistered in his boots and sand stuck to any patch of sweaty skin it could cling to. His captors hadn’t stopped for rest, making it clear that they were happy to let him drag across the scorching sand or jagged outcroppings that made up the steppe. Sand became plains spotted with squat bushes and tall spiked plants, which bled into a wooded marshlands. There was a clear path now which Killian’s feet were grateful for, the faint whispering around him forcing him to raise his head.

Crumbling homes with tents or shoddy tin, mud, and wood patch jobs lined the road, a cart on its side with a broken axle smashed into one. Children dressed in filth caked rags peeked out from darkened doorways, while shadows creeped to peer out at the newcomer. The village stank, rotten food left out near the square that an older woman added a basket too, a pig and goat happily eating away at it. They were the only ones who seemed to be happy at all, let alone healthy.

The road curved, a towered structure coming into view.

“Welcome to Camelot II, Dark One!” Arthur bellowed. “It’s not home yet, but it will be once I repair the legendary blade!”

Killian ignored him as he prattled about the war, refusing to ally with the United Realms, and their subsequent banishment as they walked through the gate into the courtyard. Immediately, servants flocked to help the men down, bringing fresh fruit and water with them. Killian’s mouth watered.

“Ah, ah, Dark One!” Jafar waved a finger, chewing slowly on a fig. The juice ran down his face, into his twisted beard, Killian deciding very suddenly that he was no longer hungry. “Jawa, Anice, take the Dark One for a bath. I need him thoroughly cleaned.”

Two women came forward, flanked by a large guard who took the rope with a sharp tug. Killian lurched forward, following them with confusion. Why in seven hells was he getting a bath? He dare not complain for it, practically diving in the steaming tub that was filled for him. The women took their task seriously as they scoured his skin with rough cloth, and they were not interested in holding conversation unless it was to snap at the other.

They rubbed him in oils when he stepped out onto the woven towel, leaving him bare but for it. Not giving him anything to wear, they led him into a darkened room that emanated a strange green glow. A glass wall filled with swirls of brown and green hypnotized Killian, like something watched him from its depths, catching him in the cross hairs.

In the murky waters of the tank, something stirred. A dark tentacle met the glass, toothed suction cups scraping against it with a loud screech. A great yellow eye opened, something chittering as bubbles churned. Ink flooded the water making it impossible to see the thing that lay within, the tubes leading from the tank filling with black that poured neatly into a large beaker.

“We’ve spared no luxury for your stay with us, Dark One.” Jafar smiled, appearing behind him with the other two not far behind. “Kraken ink, an unlimited supply given at will. It makes it easy to keep you docile while we work on extracting the Darkness from you.”

Killian tried not to focus on the hands strapping him down on the table, or the clatter of tools as Jafar laughed with other men.

“Hades, Arthur, are you both ready?” Jafar practically purred. “First incision, with ink at the ready. Wound closure test one, with 60ml of ink applied topically on the left.”

The burn he felt took his breath away, the Darkness shrieking under his skin as the ink paralyzed it further. It bit into his muscles and tried to escape from around the wound, blood flowing freely without its cauterizing. He focused on the dripping ceiling above him and watched the shadows cast from the torches’ light, trying to hold himself together.

“The Darkness is not healing the laceration, as predicted,” a low voice commented. “May I?"

"Go ahead Hades. I have to prepare poisons, and Arthur has to get his machines ready.” Jafar was smiling, Killian was sure of it. A finger prodded the wound, his throat tightening with the need to scream. A needle pricked his forearm, ink beginning to pump through his bloodstream in earnest.

“Alright. Preparing for reaction to flame, magical and otherwise.” The voice that belonged to Hades seemed giddy with excitement now. “Test one of six hundred and twenty four: coals placed within bodily cavities. First, the chest cavity. Administered ink intravenously to prevent rapid regeneration.”

A sharp pain shot through his chest, a knife sliding across his sternum. Hands began prying him open, his lips finally able to part as he let out a howl. The ink cut him off as his ribs cracked, the sound coming to a stop while Hades started the slow process of burning every part of his body.

It seemed to go on for days as he drifted away, the Darkness focused on healing what it could and learning about its captors. A new, more malleable and pliant vessel suited its needs, and Killian could feel its delight at the idea even though the haze of pain.

He breathed his own ash, Hades throwing him in a dank cell where rats scattered from the place he landed, his chest only recently healed from the hot coals they had forced inside.

“Heal up, Arthur has many tests to perform,” Hades said in his low, mirthless intonation.

Killian curled into a ball, shivering. If Arthur’s chosen methods were anything like Hades, the violations would make his worst nightmares seem warm. When he heard Hades’ footsteps cease as a heavy door closed, he began to laugh, his dry and cracked wheeze full of charcoal dust. Madness was setting in already, and he had promised, promised -

Emma.

Her name snapped him back, the idea of a vessel capable of taking this curse away worth any torment the world could devise. His mind drifted to where there had been absence, now filled again with her, nothing but his desire to leave a man no longer tethered to the Darkness. He could almost hear her voice, feel her gentle fingers in his hair or her lips against the corner of his mouth.

Another voice broke through his reverie.

“Are you the newest Dark One then?” a man asked from the cell across from his, the iron criss crossing bars and dim light obscuring their identity. “You are in for a long and unpleasant stay, creature. Not as if you don’t deserve this, but I suppose even after all this time I can muster a sliver of pity.”

Killian grunted, sitting up.

The voice continued, despite Killian’s obvious attempts at ignoring it.

“I’m surprised you don’t recognize me, or that it doesn’t recognize me, I suppose. We were such close companions when I summoned it into this world.” The man let out a sigh. “Of course, it’s only a scrap of what it was, it seems -"

The Darkness took control with ease, Killian unable to leash it in his weakened state.

"You know nothing about me, sorcerer,” it hissed through his mouth, its voice dry and gritted. “You, ever the hypocrite, should not question my strength… or your own weakness."

The Darkness felt hot under his skin, as if it was boiling while it healed him, wanting to lunge from his bones and blood to attack the other prisoner.

"History is doomed to repeat itself, it would seem. That I do know, and I say it with the utmost disrespect to you,” the man laughed, quietly. “When you are destroyed again, and your vessel dies because of it, I hope this time you cease to be.”

“LIES!” the Darkness screeched, Killian’s throat raw after it quieted, his panting breaths deep.

Before he could process the words, he was forced to lean forward, then backwards into the stone wall with enough force to send him into unconsciousness.

He woke to the man still talking, his head throbbing and mouth dry. He could feel the Darkness seething, its agitation coming in waves.

He won’t shut up, shut him UP

“Is it telling you to silence me?” the man asked, sounding bored. “It does that when I tell it truth. The Darkness does not like honesty, especially from old Merlin here.”

“You’re Merlin?” Killian rasped, his head throbbing.

Don’t talk to him

The sorcerer is a LIAR

Silence him, slit his throat, cut out his tongue, just make him quiet!

“Indeed I am,” came the reply, with a hint of amusement. “My reputation precedes me, I presume."

"I must get rid of it, this curse,” Killian pulled himself closer to the bars, resting his head on the stone wall to keep from touching the iron bars. “Please, help me. I read your journals, I know that you were sure there wasn’t a way to end the Darkness, but there must be -"

"There is no way. I’m sorry,” Merlin swallowed hard, his voice softening. “And because of what you are, you’ll break the ones around you. I loved a Dark One. I know how selfish, how cruel you can be. You can’t be saved… I couldn’t save her because a Dark One can’t love ."

"I did. I do! Emma and I -"

"If you have even the smallest bit of doubt, it is too dangerous. It will destroy everything you touch. It stains.” His voice took on a tone of tenderness, wavering slightly. “My love - Nimue tried, she desperately tried, but it consumed her seeking its own devices. If it had the shard and its freedom, you wouldn’t be able to stop it."

Killian shook his head, the Darkness cackling as it tore him apart to put him back together. "You don’t know that. They can take it from me, and separate it from me -"

"It needs a host. You two are bonded by powers almost as old as time, heat, cold: instincts. It is part of you, and only death can free you. One special kind of death - even if it takes a new host.”

“No,” Killian let the word fall from his lips like a plea. “They will take it from me. I will be free of this!"

The sorcerer is right, for once

All she will be is a toy when you are gone, and I have a better vessel to control…

"I wish you could be, but it’s not the case. You’ll hurt everyone you love, the Darkness only gets stronger the more you try peeling it back. It drove Nimue mad."

"We could be different. You don’t know!"

Images of Emma flooded his mind, the Darkness clawing at them. He couldn’t imagine life without her, but imagining her suffering because of him, his abuse pushed by the Darkness and growing more unstable - it tore him apart. Merlin had said the Darkness stained. Had he stained her?

"You can have all the hope of a different outcome, but it will be the same. Nimue went at it with me in a full on rage, the need for power too much. I couldn’t risk her hurting anyone else, so I ended her life after it consumed her entirely. I loved her, desperately so. She didn’t believe in True Love, but I thought she was mine.” Merlin paused, wistful as he swallowed hard. “Don’t put your Emma through that, especially if you think you’ll hurt her before she can stop you."

And you will hurt her. She can’t save you.

"I wouldn’t, I never -"

"I’m willing to bet you have, Dark One.” Merlin sighed. “As long as you have doubt, the Darkness will win. Without the dagger’s control, you are still only just a puppet to its whims. I’m sorry.”

Silence but for the wind, dripping water, and the rattle of chains echoed through the cells, Merlin going quiet.

The sorcerer is right about that

You are my puppet. You will destroy her.

“It said you were a liar,” Killian blurted out. “What is it scared of, can it at least be destroyed -"

The Darkness howled, his jaw clenching shut. His body buckled, and he could now see Merlin through the gloom as his head hit the damp floor. He was tall, dark eyes sad as his lips curled into a pitying grimace.

"It can be destroyed, and sent away. I know it can,” Merlin turned away, walking out of Killian’s view. “I ran experiments; I thought - I thought I had the answer. I thought an element as ancient as it, the fundamental pillars of magic if you will, could break it. The Promethean Flame, The Philosopher’s Stone, the tears of a dying Goddess, first of her name. They all should work to destroy the Vorpal Dagger.”

“Then why didn’t you -"

"I couldn’t destroy it completely because it was bound to Nimue. I loved her, and it made me blind. She died for it to live, until your birth as the Dark One awoke it again. I was there that night, on the cliffs. It was supposed to be the Goblin King holding the power, and keeping her alive.”

“You fought on their side? Against your own -"

"I did. The war was a complexity I couldn’t untangle myself from. I know now neither side was in the right.”

“You helped him? He stole women, he raped them, he massacred those men -"

"You are too young to know what the Goblins went through. It’s been all but erased from time, impossible to find except in a few unedited texts that Arthur owns, and the Goblin’s own recounted history. This is what they were made to do."

"What are you talking about? They killed -"

A rattle and creaking of a door silenced him, Jafar grinning as he opened Killian’s cell. "My turn, Dark One. I hope Merlin has warmed up that mind of yours. I have some lovely treats for it.”

Killian was led away, fighting weakly, still not completely healed. Pushed roughly onto a table, Jafar readied neatly placed bottles of different sizes and colors, next to several different syringes.

“Shall we?” he purred. “I have a neurotoxin I have been dying to see the effects of."

There was a jab in his arm, and Killian felt the burn of something entering his veins. Bright sparks began to play behind his eyes almost immediately, his body beginning to convulse. He took a gulp of air when the Darkness brought him back from death, his eyes closed tight, peace just within sight but never within reach.

He couldn’t hear Jafar now, could barely feel the needles or poisons rushing into him to eat away at his organs. His broken mind focused on one single thought, holding its fragile light close.

Emma. Emma. Emma.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The bandit camp came into view as Emma spat out the shells of dried cocoa beans off the side of the carpet. They’d been flying for days, stopping only if needed for quick sustenance, bartering for information, or other needs. They finally found one of the compounds Jafar was fond of using accidentally, a drunken and shouting group of men talking about the take over in less than hushed voices. It was easy enough to follow their camels until the sandstone buildings and tents caught the light of the horizon.

What Emma hadn’t expected was the projectiles launched at them, the carpet diving into a rolling dodge. They plummeted from the sky only to straighten a few feet from the ground. Emma panted, as Jasmine and Aladdin heaved in breath, the three of them gripping the carpet tightly as it continued forward. They arrived at the western side of the camp quietly, their weapons in hand.

Stepping out, her palms crackling, Emma felt a surge within her. Light surrounded her, magic pulled from the very air, the first man who realized something was amiss hitting the ground when her green eyes met his. She watched him wither, feeling oddly detached as Jasmine and Aladdin fought ahead of her. Or they did, until she drew near and more bodies fell to the ground. It felt wonderful to be so powerful, to look at the men with deep shadows in their eyes and scarred skin and know they lay on the ground because of her. They weren’t quite dead, but they were most definitely not as alive as they were.

Trailing her fingers along the rough clay walls, the texture made her irritated by the lack of care they had put into making this home for themselves. It was carelessly crafted with no artisanry, the sheer utilitarianism of its lack of beauty unacceptable. The fire that jumped from her skin was white and golden tinted cream, shooting up the structure.

Emma moved inwards, pressing through the smoke. "Killian?” she called out, but no answer came outside of the men who roared at her in rage. They all fell within moments, as if an unseen creature had bowled them over. Clucking her tongue, Emma stepped over them daintily.

She turned the corner to find Jasmine talking to a terrified looking younger man, his face just starting to grow hair. They were speaking rapidly in what sounded like a mix of Agrabaric and something Emma could not identify, his finger pointing to where she stood as he screamed in fright. Jasmine turned to look, and seeing Emma, sighed.

“He’s afraid you’re going to kill him.” Jasmine shrugged at her as Aladdin rounded a corner closer to where the young man was tied.

Aladdin laughed, and kneeled to look at him. “Tell him she could kill him either way, but for the chance of a less painful death, or possibly no dying at all, he should answer.”

Jasmine hissed something sinister sounding Emma could not quite understand, although she recognized the clear words for 'painful dying’ well enough. The man broke down into frantic speech, crying in deep gasps when he finished.

Jasmine laughed slightly, motioning for them all to leave.

“He said that they sent an envoy to Camelot II when they saw us arrive. The Dark One is held not too far from here, but he warns that the three plan to use him to transfer the Darkness to -” Jasmine blinked in surprise, looking back at Emma who fidgeted anxiously. “Killian has a brother?"

Emma’s mouth opened, and she blinked in confusion. "No, he had a brother, an older brother. Liam. He died in the War.”

The man began to babble, animatedly pointing to Emma, and she heard the name Liam several times in his speech.

Jasmine’s brow furrowed, and she looked back at Emma. “He says this is Liam, the younger brother of the Dark One. He doesn’t know of any other brother to the Darkness. Are you sure Emma? Because he swears -"

"I don’t care what he swears on, he’s wrong. Liam is dead, he died and - just ask him the way to Killian!” Emma snapped, her power making her hurt with how much it wanted to be used, as if a current ran through her body. Jasmine’s frown deepened, and Aladdin stepped between them with an uneasy smile.

“Emma, maybe you should take a moment -"

"I can’t - Liam was - Liam and Elsa are dead, and if Killian dies, if he -"

"He’s going to be fine. We’re only a few days behind them, he will have held on, alright? I see the way he looks at you Emma. He will hold on until you get there,” He approached cautiously, wincing slightly. Looking down, she realized the ground around her had begun to crackle with the glow of her magic. Aladdin glowed a light blue himself as if he was wading through a river. “Please, calm down.”

Emma took a deep breath, steadying herself, pulling her power back as well as she could. Everything screamed against it, begging her to punish those who had done wrong, whispering how she could purify this land. Emma blocked it out, focusing on Killian. She could almost hear him, a feeling of grief washing over her.

Emma. Emma. Emma.

Jasmine ended her conversation, nodding towards the carpet. “I got it. Let’s go."

Emma hesitated just a moment, looking at the man who trembled on the ground. She walked toward him, and whispered a word she hoped he understood.

"Run."

He fled, Emma walking towards the carpet where her friends waited. Dispelling the energy she’d been holding, the structure crumbled as flame burst from the ground, the heat blistering, blindingly bright and booming bursts of explosion rocking the ground as she joined them.

No one said anything as they flew away from what once was the encampment, now no more than a smoldering crater in the sands.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Killian was thrown back into the cell more dead than alive, cycling through consciousness until he was healed enough to maintain it. In many ways he wished he had stayed in the relief of the dark, the poisons Jafar had used left him confused, suffering hallucinations, and left him lying in his own sick multiple times.

"Who could ever love you?” Emma whispered, her throat cut by his own hand, heart beating rapidly in his other. “Go ahead. Crush it. Kill me, just like you thought you did - like you wanted to.”

His mouth tasted awful, his brain unsure if it was the twisted Emma’s kiss, or his own bile rising.

Liam appeared, fussing over him while Elsa shrieked at him to join them, faces pressing themselves close enough that his thin eyelids weren’t enough to keep them at bay.

“Just die Killian,” Elsa breathes in his ear, the cold air freezing his cheek. “It only hurt for a moment, and now it only hurts when the air goes through me. It’s that hole in my chest, it just lets the draft in!” she laughed, cackling.

Milah fell away at his fingertips, turning to dust that sent him retching, his mother’s rotted palm clammy against his forehead.

“Hush my sweet boy. Hush. Mummy loves you sweet Killian boy…"

The visions paraded through the cell until they were few, his breath not coming in gasps or pants and his eyes not blurring or falling away to kaleidoscopic fractals.

He turned his head, rolling to move out of the damp mess he had created. When he looked up, a new visage sat watching him. His father, looking worn and weary even in this younger appearance, stared at him.

"What do you want, phantom? Could they not send me Liam instead of you?"

The ghoul cocked its head, but moved closer. "I’m Liam.”

Killian barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “No. Liam was a better man than you ever were. Liam was everything good, and you and I, we… were everything wrong .”

“I’m not that Liam. He was dead after I was born.” The phantom paused. “Do you think I’m Papa? You killed our other brother. I know all about everything wrong you did, Papa told me so. I don’t expect either would haunt you, you’re a disgrace.”

The words settled heavily over him, and Killian tried to process them. He could see the differences now, the skinny and sallow cheeks hiding the curve of Liam’s - his Liam’s - jawline, the eyes of their father set deep under furrowed brow. If the scrap of a man had been fed better and had not had a slightly different nose, he could have passed for a scrawny version of himself with Liam’s face and hair.

But then, Father had named him for Liam’s memory, so as a child, as a babe even, he must have taken after their oldest sibling. The idea of his father siring another child made Killian’s stomach churn, his head still stinging from the nerves knitting back together.

“How did -” Killian hesitated, trying to make sense of this development. “Did he abandon you, too? Fall to drink and beat you? Did you run here? I can - "

"Abandon me?” Liam asked with incredulous laughter. His smile darkened, eyes glinting. “No. He got sick, Ma cared for him best she could until he died. Papa was patient. I don’t remember him drinking but he smoked a pipe a lot. He started all of this, with his hatred of nobility and what became of his sons. He said you both died in the war, but you died a coward. You were supposed to lead us until it was discovered how dearly you care for your princess.”

Killian swallowed hard. “Of course. Of course it was that simple to him.” Mumbling, Killian laid his aching head back on the stone wall. “He - Father was technically right. We both died in the war, I just came back as this. The remnants of a coward’s choice, even if it wasn’t mine."

"It doesn’t matter now, does it?” Liam sneered.

Killian shook his head slowly, before catching Liam’s eyes. “No, I suppose it doesn’t. Are you still sure you want to take it? To be filled with this Darkness, and become a coward yourself?

"I would never - Will never be a coward like you are. You follow that prancing princess and all these rules of good form and noble intentions,” Liam spat, his lips curled in disgust. “I will live hand and hand with the Darkness as we remake this world in the image of the Blackwater. I’ll go back and reclaim our lineage -”.

“No one has ever done anything hand in hand with the Darkness. It uses you, until you are empty. It will hollow you out,” Killian stated with bitterness. “I ask again, do you want this? Do you not have anyone that you wish to protect? It will hurt them, no matter how hard you try.”

Liam did not answer.

Killian sat in the silence, until Liam spoke quietly.

“Anyone?” Killian nodded. “Even family?"

"Especially family,” Killian admitted, unable to hide the sorrow in his voice. “I killed my brother as I begged to stop. The Darkness reveled in it. It laughed while I broke, as I screamed for it to spare him. Do you - are there more of - do you have more siblings? Is your mum…?”

“Still alive? Yeah, she’ll live another thousand years just to be around, pull'n me by the ear. She’s a terror. Papa said she was scarier than the sea and hell combined. They loved each other though, and me. It’s just us. She misses him a lot."

"I'm…” Killian swallowed hard again, a strange whirlwind of emotion going through his mind.

“You don’t need to be sorry or any of that shit.” Liam grunted, then spat at the floor. “You don’t owe anything to me or to Papa. You may have made Papa ashamed, but I didn’t - and I can’t wait to destroy everything for this cause. I’ll have the Darkness at my control in no time."

"You’ll die too then,” Killian whispered, shrugging. Liam tensed, his shoulders rising as his fists balled. “By Fath - by his standards I’m dead. You will be the end of the Jones men. It’s history repeating itself as usual - I killed my Liam, and now you, the new Liam, will kill me. Then in turn the Darkness will take over, and kill you. I’ll damn your soul gratis as I die, two Liams ended by my hand. Father will be ever so proud.”

“Shut up,” Liam hissed. He stood, leaving with a slam of the cell’s heavy door.

Killian laughed lightly, still unable to stop as he scrubbed his face. Merlin was either quiet or somewhere else, the stillness eerie as the wind outside howled.

Closing his eyes, he dreamt of being free, the Darkness too tired and hopeful itself to try and stop him.

Footsteps woke him later, the time indeterminate while he slept. He could hear Arthur’s laugh before his boots even came close, Merlin groaning as he was thrown back into the cell across from his. His own door rattled, and Killian resisted the urge to open his eyes. Heavy hands forced him up by his hair, his eyes squinting open to stare at Arthur’s grinning face.

“Time to play, Dark One.” Arthur began to walk, the man holding Killian by his scalp dragging Killian along behind his path. “I have a fascination with Mortal implements of torture. I can’t wait to see what my updates for them will look like, and how they will work on Fae. I had to get Goblins to do the iron working, I wanted it perfect.”

Something creaked loudly, metal clanging.

“Since you seem to be so tired, we’ll let you rest for a bit. Liam told me you were crying for your princess too, so I managed to get you some company - she’s a fine maiden, but a bit steely.” Arthur chuckled, and Killian was shoved into a dark space. His back hit spikes, the iron sharp. “Enjoy the embrace of the iron maiden, mate .”

The door closed, and Killian heard the crunch of his just healed ribs. He screamed, listening to Arthur laughing in glee.

It didn’t last long, the door opened only after a few hours and he was wrenched out, Arthur pouting. “ You didn’t scream for very long. How disappointing.”

Killian was thrown on a rough wooden table, his body stripped of the dirty clothing. Cold water was thrown on him as his wounds attempted to close, a rough scrubbing given to him by the same brute that had thrown him around.

“This though, this is my pride and joy.” Something was attached to him, then another. Suctioned pieces stuck on his skin in various places. “It’s a machination for torture, meant to hurt more than any magics or physical torment in the Realms. Merlin was forced to help me design it, and I must say, I hope his work is nothing short of masterful. Now, don’t hold it in this time.”

Something clicked, and Killian’s eyes shot open. He screamed, unable to stop, the pain shot up his nerves and down his spine as if he was being torn apart cell by cell. The Darkness fell away, watching something do its work far more efficiently.

It stopped, Arthur talking to someone he couldn’t see.

“What sort of message? Can’t you see I’m busy -"

The messenger dismounted from the carpet while Killian took advantage of the respite, sucking in hissed gulps of air. The binds at his ankles and wrists had rubbed the skin raw, but his head and chest were the worst, burning in a horrific fire like pain. Arthur bellowed out a laugh that trailed into a dark chuckle.

"Oh, now this… This is too rich. Sit down, Gilead."

The messenger sat dutifully, and Killian struggled to flinch back when Arthur slowly walked back to the machine.

"I must tell you, your obstinacy and impudence so far has been honorable. No one will say that you aren’t strong of mind.” Arthur paused, his grin wide. “ However , ever since I discovered the Darkness was so close to the surface, I have wondered how strong is the heart attached to it. To keep your princess alive for so long, against all odds and your own interests, well.” He smirked, laughing again. “I thought how weak you must be, if I could just figure out what was special about her. Did you covet her kingdom? Her power? Proximity to her parents and those who wronged you?"

Killian grunted, Arthur cranking the lever to stretch him taut again. The piece of wood in his mouth suddenly felt too dry, Arthur’s mentions of Emma putting him in a state of unease he hadn’t felt before.

"Alas, now I see how simple it actually is. Or, more aptly, was . You did not deserve how much she loved you. Lucky for us, that has been rectified. The princess has been removed from the situation."

The words didn’t settle on his pain hazed mind right away, his noise behind the gag in his mouth at first in disbelief. Arthur laughed heartily, motioning for the messenger to sit up.

"Come here Gilead. Tell The Dark One what you told me."

The curly haired redhead stepped towards his master, gulping before speaking in a reedy voice.

"Princess Emma of the United Realms was spotted approaching the Eastern compound near Agrabah with at least one other companion, possibly two. Our wizard took care of her.” The boy, he was more boy than man Killian could see now, mimed something crashing to the ground, Killian’s heart stopping.

Arthur roared with laughter, almost doubled over.

“You know, I meant what I said. You didn’t deserve how much Emma loved you,” he sneered, waving his man away. “It was sickening really, once I realized you two were always staring at each other or bickering. Yearning like some courtiers fresh out of finishing. It’s a shame that neither of us had a chance with her. She would have been a feisty little -"

Killian lunged, the Darkness roaring out of him as if he was nothing but its rage. Dark shadow fell around him, flowed through him, his hands shaking in the straps before he freed himself from one of his restraints. Arthur backed away, just out of reach.

Emma.

The name was an endless array of emotions that made him crazy, the Darkness irritated, and part of him mourned.

Emma, no. Not -

Let me go, let me take a new vessel, you sniveling coward

Die with your silly heart breaking, weakling fool!

Emma, his Emma, if she was - he couldn’t bear the thought.

The Darkness continued its pressure, tendrils of it exploding outward. Arthur let the machine run, doing its worst as Killian broke, Emma’s name on his lips.

"She died thinking she could save you, wanting to see you one more time. It’s your fault, but from what I’ve heard, that’s usually how this happens for you, isn’t it? Milah, Elsa, and now Emma - I know about them all. Your little princess was so worried about you when she thought she could confide in me. I wonder if she knew you would fail her like this?” Arthur laughed, Gilead clearing his throat to mumble something, his master’s head snapping to look at him. “Quiet, imbecile. Have respect for the dead."

Let go, vessel. Give in. She no longer waits for you.

Give me control. She’s gone, you have nothing.

She wouldn’t want that. She would have wanted you to be strong, she loved you - the real you - not what you were when the Darkness won out - and even then she loved you, Darkness and all, despite of everything. She would have fought for you, and now you have to fight -

She’s dead. What she would have wanted doesn’t matter anymore, she plummeted to her death because of you. You were her literal downfall, vessel. She tried to save you, but you can’t be saved. It’s better this way. I would have killed her in a much more personal manner if she had survived.

"Poor, poor Dark One,” Arthur sneered. “I can’t wait for you to break. The Darkness damns you even after death - poor sweet Emma is lost to you forever.”

It’s better that way, vessel. This is all for the best.

You were weak, and she died for it. It’s time to let me go, and for you to join the Darkness in eternity.

Far off, he heard the gentle noise of her voice, calling out to him. He wouldn’t let go yet, not until he knew for certain she was gone.

Emma. Emma. Emma.

Emma.

#Courtorderedcake #September #2020 #September 23rd 2020 #hallow #My writing #Captain swan #captain swan au #CSSNS #cssns 2019 #CS AU #CS FF #CS FF AU #23rd

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believerindaydreams · 3 years

Text

Does it count as a slow burn if it's been less than 15000 words I dunno anyway here be the shagging chapter.

"Arcade Gannon, you're extremely drunk."

That he's saying it aloud seems to confirm the validity of the statement. Good.

Boone looks up briefly from his compulsive scribbling. It seems backwards somehow that he's sitting here with the drink while Boone is writing, but he can't entirely think of why. Tomorrow Arcade's problem.

Tomorrow along with the hangover and scavenging for survival and getting to one of the people they're meant to be rescuing. He giggles, tenderly adjusts the angle of his new glasses. They're utterly priceless, at least until he gets back to the Old Mormon Fort and can grab one of the three pairs he's put by for emergencies.

"What are you doing?"

There is a definite moment during which Boone has decided not to answer, but then he does. "Letter for my wife."

"Oh. Uhh, sorry about her...I can't, you know, take too many more emotional shocks before falling asleep. The-" he frowns abruptly, feels at his neck to see if the collar is still there. It is. "The thing thing. Enough for one day."

Compiling a list of the variables causing him to have hit this level of coherency would take long enough he'd be sober before finishing. Never mind.

"That thing," Boone says, sharply enough to break his pencil between words. He takes out a knife and starts whittling a fresh point. "Don't ask about the thing."

"Understood." He is absolutely dying to know what science involves making targets glow, but that's not Brotherhood or Legion business and it might not even be his. Much as he wants to find out. Man has a right to secrets.

He shuts up and just watches for a while. The scratch of pencil lead. The way Boone's frowning over the letters, a hint of pink tongue at the corner of his mouth, so profoundly earnest. The slight glisten on one side of his jumpsuit, catching the light-

oh. Oh! Fuck.

"I was crying on your shoulder earlier." The whole chain of memories pops up obediently, now he's looking for it.

"Don't worry about it."

"I-", Arcade starts, and promptly stops, because he was going to say he's sorry now but that might be misconstrued as rude, and why can't he offload some of this eighteen-caret vocabulary right now except making his mouth say it sounds difficult. "So you don't mind."

"In your position I'd have beaten my brains out against a Legion tentpost ages back. You're pretty coherent for a prisoner of war."

Now isn't that rich, being told he's coherent by...why is he thinking like this? That's Enclave talk, isn't it?

He firmly shoves that whole line of thought into a box and locks it away. "I should shut up and go to sleep now."

"Probably," Boone agrees. He folds the letter up, tucks it in a pocket. "I'll wake you when I can't stay awake any more."

"A watch? Do we really need one?"

"I'd rather not risk it."

It's either argue or go to sleep. He falls asleep trying to decide.

***

"Wake up before I pass out."

A return to the land of the living. Not as rough as it could have been, he's drunk so much water in ecstatic indifference to lurking radiation. Rads can be cured, dehydration can't.

He returns to the sink for more and turns around to find Boone already out, small and vulnerable the way people are when they sleep. Dragging the mattresses from the cells into this kitchen had been a good idea, there's a double layer to sleep on, another to sit on.

Compared to the life he was living, sustenance on sufferance and a guard every moment, this is the lap of luxury. Even the slave collar-

he feels the harsh metal against his throat again and shudders, returning sobriety hitting hard. This is not normal. This is not a state to get used to. He deserves better than this, as does Boone.

For a moment he considers crawling right back into a bottle, but they don't have an infinite supply and besides, Boone's trusting his life here. Best keep steady hands.

Old world poetry marching through his skull. Center cannot hold. If he has to get to terms with what's been happening to him, he will fall apart right here in this kitchen.

Focus, Gannon. Focus.

Boone turns over in his sleep, emits a soft snore, and it's silly to say that does it when it's the weight of death pressing down on them, attraction formed out of raw aching need, spending the most stressful hours of his life wrapped up in concern for the life before him; and something turns over and now he's in love. Or at least lust. His body, fed and watered and rested, is absolutely desperate for release.

A jumpsuit's not ideal for this sort of activity. Arcade removes it, adjusts his position to be able to see the entryway and Boone both, the other man's body gently rising and falling with each breath. The rhythm of it is steady, reassuring, makes for a fine counterpoint to his own meditative movements.

If an enemy comes in now, his senses are on high alert. Listening, seeing, it's an acceptable risk.

Boone isn't asking for this.

Boone doesn't need to know. They're keeping enough secrets from each other, he can have one more.

The crescent-shaped scar trailing down past the ear, normally covered by the beret. Rounded curve under the ribcage, a callus on the forefinger of indeterminate origin, every small detail whispering him on as he pulls and pulls and comes-

- the whoop of pleasure as he does so, clutching the butt of the holorifle for support, is tremendously unintentional.

Boone opens one eye, fixes his squarely.

"Huh. Nice to know you're human like the rest of us."

Sitting naked and covered in cum is so far past any reasonable course of denial or explanation, truth will have to serve. "I do find you very attractive, but we seemed to have enough to deal with without me dumping that on your head."

"...how about you give me a handjob, and we'll call it quits."

There are so many more extravagant ways to show a man a good time, but- this is Craig Boone. No surprise if he likes to keep it simple.

Arcade wipes himself off, ruining the lining of a poorly made fedora in the process, and crawls over to strip his lover.

(Can you say lover, etymologically, before actually committing the act? Never mind, it's bound to be a moot point shortly.)

He struggles to get the jumpsuit off- it's tight and Boone isn't helping much, limp with exhaustion- doesn't give him much to work with here. They might not get very far.

Nevertheless, it's incumbent on him to make the attempt.

Arcade teases the soft uninterested cock into a slightly more pliable form, careful application of fingertips that have touched more than their share of yielding flesh. Back and forth, back and forth, the hold is blessedly familiar after the holorifle grip and rightly so.

Still not getting very far. He lies down, tests a quick light lick along the shaft for a sounding before putting his mouth to work.

Boone twitches beneath him, shifts his weight, like the whole world turning over just for him. "Thought you'd just do it quick, not massage and swallowing thrown in."

Arcade doesn't hurry his investigation, the gentle play of tongue and lips, before withdrawing to reply. "Do you want me to argue or get you off?"

Boone does the thing he does best and shuts up.

He does quicken the pace after that, though- manipulation here, delicate squeezing there, minimizing the exploratory touches he would quite like to linger over- and it really is much too soon, when the warm rush hits his mouth.

Normally he would swallow, but the act ends in an anti-climatic puddle of spit and less attractive flavors, drooled out into a rusted tin can. "Tastes like cloud. No offense."

"None taken." Boone does, actually, sound relaxed now. He's unconscious in seconds.

Arcade clambers back into his jumpsuit and covers Boone best he can, before picking up the holorifle to keep a proper watch this time.

Everything that's stewing between them right now, he's not even sure this will change the dynamic between them. Death is the only thing more intimate than sex.

In the Sierra Madre hell, though, it's nice to have one thing to simply feel good over.

#fallout new vegas

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gingerpeachtae · 5 years

Text

Concentric [17]

masterlist

Words: 9.5k

Genres: fantasy!AU, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, eventual smut (?)

Warnings: some violence

Summary: You had been ready for the end of the semester. You had been ready to spend time away from your best friend, Jimin, and finally move on from the feelings you harbored. Yet, after your friend was forced to reveal a secret, you found yourself in a new world that was chock full of magic, war, and wonder. So, here you were, basically thrown into your own fantasy novel, with your best friend on one side, and six male warriors on the other.

A/N: HERE IT IS! Thank you all for your patience! Engoy! 💙

This far into the depths of the earth there was no warmth; only cold dampness and the distinct scent of a deep cavern. The female was shivering and crying as she approached the male, who was chained to the chilled, rocky ground. Tears streaked down her cheeks and dripped off her chin as the male struggled against his restraints, jingling the metal, and snarled at her. The links that were cuffed to the male’s wrists were long enough that he was able to stand, but he couldn’t raise his arms higher than his waistline.

It wasn’t for lack of trying, though. As the female advanced toward him, the male continued trying to yank the chains out of the floor. Trying to raise his hands so he could choke her until she begged.

Begged for air. For mercy. Forgiveness.

And he would show her none.

“You think this will solve anything?” The male spat at her before laughing madly. “You can’t kill me… you can’t kill what I am!”

The female drew in a shaky breath and weakly smiled as she took in the sight before her. She swept her gaze over the slope of the male’s nose, the sharpness of his cheekbones, the curve of his lips. All features she had tenderly touched and kissed over the years. Familiar features. But what hadn’t always been there was the anger boiling behind his garnet eyes… at least, it had never been directed toward her. Not until now. And although the rage in his eyes made her want to flinch away, she forced herself to meet his glare. To imprint it all into her memory.

She raised her hand to gently caress the male’s face one last time as more tears escaped from her eyes.

“I’m not going to kill you. I can’t. As much as I hate you… I still love you too much.” The female lowered her hand to the male’s chest, resting her palm right over his heart as she gazed into his red eyes. “I’m going to seal you away, so the world doesn’t have to suffer under your influence.”

Then, she began to push into the male’s chest, making him groan and contort his face in pain. Blood cascaded out from his chest, coating his body and painting the floor a deep crimson. But the female continued to push in. Past the skin, meat, and bone. All the way until her delicate hand was wrapped around his still beating heart.

The male yelled at her as she gripped the muscle, cursing her existence and all she stood for. Ignoring his cutting words, she instead began whispering an incantation. The room began glowing a warm gold as she reached the peak of the spell. When she was finished, the brilliant light dimmed and faded until the room was cold, damp, and dark once more.

“There still needs to be balance…” The female murmured to herself before forcefully removing her hand from the cavity of the male’s chest.

In her hand was not his heart, though, but rather an obsidian crystal that pulsed and expelled wisps of black smoke. At the extraction of the object, the male collapsed to his knees and released a shuddering breath.

“How… how dare you?” He tremulously growled and violently jerked his restraints.

The female just slowly back away, tears still flowing down her cheeks. She cradled the ebony crystal against her chest as the male began to grow more and more unruly.

He thrashed against the chains. Screamed. Cursed. Gouged at the spot where his bondages were bolted to the floor, cracking and breaking his nails.

With irregular breaths and crazed eyes, he met the female’s gaze once more. “Release me. Right. Now.”

She held back a sob and shook her head at the male, who began screaming and tearing at his chains yet again.

“I love you…” she whispered faintly. “But this is for the best.”

And then she turned and ran, leaving the person she both loved and despised behind forever as his screams echoed off the cavern walls.

“How much longer is she going to be like this hyung?”

The voice was murky and distant.

“I don’t know…” You heard another voice answer, and it was just as far away as the first.

“Her body is weaker than ours so it’s probably just taking her a bit longer, okay?” A third voice swam into your head through the darkness.

The first replied, “But it’s been two days.”

You knew that voice…

Where did you know that voice from?

“I know… just… just give her time. She’ll come back to us soon Tae.”

Tae…

A handsome face with sharp, blue eyes and a boxy smile flashed in your memory.

TaeTae… Taehyung.

Through the obscuring blackness that overtook your senses, you heard footsteps approach. They sounded dull and weighted, almost like they were in slow motion.

“Have you seen Kook?”

Cook? Is there a chef on the loose?

Someone sighed next to you. “He’s um, letting out his anger again.”

“For Exia’s sake, Kook’s going to kill him before we can get any information.”

No, not ‘cook’… Kook… Kookie…

Burgundy hair. Peridot eyes. Rough exterior. Gentle hands. Playful soul.

Jungkook.

The black started lessening and your senses sharpened.

The world slowly began to become clear.

You could hear the leaves and the birds and the bugs.

Could feel the sunlight warming your skin.

The wind whispering against your face.

A hand clasping your own.

A thumb softly moving across your knuckles.

“Jin hyung went to keep an eye on him.”

Was that Hobi’s voice?

You slowly inhaled through your nose as your eyelids fluttered open.

Squinting through the sunlight that contrasted so immensely with the darkness you had been floating in, you registered a combination of treetops, clouds, and a blue sky above you.

Letting out a miniscule groan at the bright light attacking your retinas, you realized you were resting on your back. A blanket was spread over your body and another was bunched underneath your head as a makeshift pillow.

The hand holding yours tightened as the sound of sleepy distress left your mouth. “Little scorja…?”

Rolling your head to the side, you let your gaze meet a pair of hopeful, blue eyes and you blinked slowly before whispering, “Hey, TaeTae.”

While he gasped at your response, you sent him a tender, but weak smile, and let your eyes drift down to where your hand was being held by his. Shifting your hand in his grasp, you gave his fingers a reassuring squeeze.

Then, with a strangled grunt, you tried to raise your body so you were sitting up. Unsurprisingly, your body creaked and groaned in protest; not used to movement after lying sill for so long. Noticing your struggle, Tae was quick to aid you with a hand on your back.

You grimaced as your entire body ached. Fucking hell, I’m sore.

“Welcome back to the land of the living.”

After you managed to sit up with the Tae’s help, you turned your stiff neck to the side to see Namjoon showing off his dimples with warm, yellow eyes.

“Hi, Joo-wait I died!?” You tried to shriek out your sentence, but your voice came out broken and cracked from misuse.

You started coughing because of how utterly dry your throat was, moaning in between the forceful expulsions of air due to how they jerked your sore muscles. While Tae cursed and let go of your hand to scramble to find his canteen, Namjoon’s eyes widened and he held his hands up.

“No, no, no! Oh my goddess, that was really poor choice of wording. I just meant like ‘Yay! You’re conscious again,” Namjoon quickly explained as he winced at himself.

You felt your shoulders drop in relief and Tae returned and held the opening of the canteen to your lips. He gradually tipped it up so cool water flowed into your mouth. After a couple seconds of guzzling the heavenly liquid, you raised your hand to tell him to stop.

While you swallowed and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, you realized something.

“How am I able to understand you guys if I’ve been unconscious? And how am I speaking your language right now?” You looked back to the leader of the kiela and tilted your head in confusion.

Namjoon proceeded to tell you that since they weren’t sure when you would wake up, they had been placing the yellow language petal in your mouth every morning. They hadn’t wanted you to wake up and not be able to communicate immediately, so they basically force-fed you the magic petal the past two days. You nodded in understanding at him then made grabby hands at the canteen in Tae’s grasp. The blue-eyed Saeni chuckled deeply and handed you the object as your eyes wandered to take in your surroundings.

A little to your right, Mingi was sitting in the shade quietly watching you. His hazel eyes lit up and he gave you a nod when you turned to him. You tipped the canteen toward him with a tiny grin and continued to sweep the area with your eyes. As you twisted around, all you saw was the mass of trees and the beautiful temple, but as you rotated all the way to look behind you, and unexpected sight greeted you.

Sitting on the ground with his hands bracing his weight behind him was the kiela’s spy. When your eyes met his light brown orbs, he smiled brightly and waved, but quickly returned his attention to the person fast asleep in his lap. His hand kept alternating between gently tracing patterns on the Saeni’s arm and brushing his mint hair out of his face.

Seeing what your eyes were fondly glued to, Namjoon softly said, “You know, you did almost die though…”

His comment made your body stiffen and you took a deep breath while turning back to face the yellow-eyed male as he described how Yoongi had made it to you just as you were on the edge between life and death. You had just lost so much blood and Tae hadn’t been able to stop the bleeding. Not with how large and deep the cut was to your thigh. Not with how the draikensu’s knife had gone entirely through your forearm.

Yoongi was already tired and drained from fighting after conjuring the shield, so he didn’t have much juice left in him. Though, somehow, he was able to stop the bleeding and mend some of your flesh before he had passed out form exhaustion.

Memories of your flayed skin and a puncturing blade burned behind your eyes. You shuddered and glanced to your leg and arm to see them wrapped tightly with bandages.

The leader of the kiela nodded at the wrappings and said that after a couple hours of involuntary sleep, Yoongi had woken and immediately worked on healing more of you until he collapsed yet again. Then he did it again a few hours later. And he continued to do that until he was sure you wouldn’t die or lose a limb.

“They’re still not fully healed, since Yoongi hasn’t been able to recharge completely, but there won’t be any permanent damage.”

You tenderly touched the bandages on your arm and nodded before going to take another sip of water. Though as you began to tip the canteen back you froze as you remembered why you had gotten these wounds in the first place. The canteen in your hand was slowly lowered to your lap while your pulse sped up, and you looked between Tae and Namjoon.

“Where’s Jimin?” You asked them shakily, fear beginning to ebb and flow within you. “Why isn’t he here? Is he… did he…?”

Tae quickly wrapped his arms around you and crushed you into a hug, and the action only made more dread blossom in your heart. Your throat tightened as tears began to leak down your cheeks, and all you could think of was how limp Jimin had looked after he fell. How lifeless. Tae pulled you closer and began murmuring sweet nothings to try to calm you down.

Choking back your sobs as your body trembled, you did your best to compose yourself but failed. “He… he’s dead, isn’t he?”

“Huh?” Tae leaned away slightly so he could look at you with confused, furrowed brows. “Chim hyung isn’t dead.”

Your jaw dropped and it seemed like your entire self paused for a moment; needing time to reset after hearing him.

“W-What?” You hiccupped through your tears and shock.

Before Tae could answer, Namjoon spoke up. “He just broke his leg badly, oh and a few ribs too, and had a nasty concussi-”

Mingi suddenly coughed loudly and gave Namjoon a pointed look before finishing for the leader. “But he’s perfectly fine and alive, thanks to you.”

He’s alive. He’s alive. Oh my fucking goddess, he’s alive.

The Saeni holding you leaned back in and gave your cheek a comforting peck then he smoothed some of your hair away from your wet face while you sniffled and rubbed your eyes.

“Well, where the hell is he? I wanna see him.”

Namjoon grimaced slightly and looked away from you. “He, uh, blames himself for what happened to you and is taking it pretty hard.” The male sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Every time he’s seen you or saw how tolling it’s been on Yoongi to heal you, he feels even worse. So, he’s been staying away, basically isolating himself from everyone with the exception of Jiae and Chungha.”

You released a long breath and hung your head as you absorbed Namjoon’s words.

Of course, he has to blame himself for something that isn’t his fault. That’s such a Jimin thing to do.

“Alright, well… that’s just fucking fantastic. And Jungkook? Where is he?”

Tae scooted back from you a bit and held your hands but looked down as he gave you an answer. “After you passed out, Kook kind of… lost it. I didn’t see a lot of it because I was so focused on you, but he punched the draikensu that hurt you until he was unconscious and… and then he went around and finished the rest. But the way he did it… I’ve never seen him like that before.”

You saw Mingi shake his head out of the corner of your eye. “It was like he turned into something else. Went berserk. It was a bit terrifying honestly.”

The guard hesitated to continue but you gave him a nod. So, he went on to describe how after the few remaining draikensu had been wiped out by his blades, he had returned to the only one still breathing: the one who had hurt you. Jungkook had stalked up to the unconscious male with blood-soaked hands and furious eyes. Mingi, Jin, and Namjoon had to step in and restrain the maknae from killing the draikensu. They understood Jungkook’s desperation to end the male’s life… but they needed him alive for questioning. After wrestling with the enraged youngest member for several minutes, the three of them managed to bring Jungkook to the other side of the temple. There, Jungkook had punched the temple’s stone exterior and begun yelling at them to let him see. When they didn’t, he had collapsed to the ground and fisted his burgundy hair in his hands. He had gone completely silent besides the sounds of his strained, labored breaths, and had stayed that way until Tae came around and informed everyone that you were in a somewhat stable condition.

Then, similar to Jimin, every time Jungkook saw you he would get upset… only his anger wasn’t directed at himself. It was at the draikensu who had maimed you. Whenever the anger, stress, and worry from the situation built up within him, he would go release it by essentially beating the shit out of the draikensu they were now holding captive.

And, apparently, that’s what he was doing at this very moment.

You deeply inhaled and looked into Namjoon’s concerned yellow eyes. “Let me see him. Please.”

You limped your way through the temple halls, using one hand to brace yourself against the stony walls as you did so. The Saeni had all offered to help walk you to the room they were keeping the draikensu locked up in, but you declined. You wanted to go alone. Plus, your leg wasn’t too bad. Yeah, it still hurt, but it was manageable. And it was leagues better than it had been the last time you were conscious.

Damn, Yoongi really is amazing… I need to remember to thank him when he’s awake later.

Fortunately, the pathway to the room wasn’t blocked by any tree roots or honeysuckle vines, so you didn’t have to strain your body and climb around anything. Yet, regardless of the seemingly easy path, your breaths were still labored as you made your way through the innards of the temple. It annoyed you. Feeling weak, that is.

But, hey, it beats being a lifeless corpse, so I’ll take it.

While you shuffled through the hallways, you enjoyed the floral scent that permeated the stuffiness of the ancient structure. And as you continued placing one foot slowly in front of the other, you watched the specks of dust float in the patches of sunlight that filtered through the many cracks and windows.

After making your way down several halls, you rounded a corner and paused your steps for a millisecond when you saw Jin sitting down with his back against the wall. His forearms were resting on his knees as his raven-haired head leaned back against the stone behind him. His dark eyes had been closed when you first turned the corner, but they opened and shifted to you as you started making your way over. Once he registered who you were, he shot to his feet and jogged down the hallway to pull you into a short hug.

Giggling, you returned the gesture and wrapped your arms around him briefly. “Hey there, Papa Jin.”

“It’s really good to see you up and about, little scorja. You had us super worried.”

You smiled at him as you stepped back, careful not to place too much weight on your still-healing leg.

You nudged him with your uninjured arm and cocked a brow teasingly. “What are you doing out here, hmm? I thought you’re supposed to be watching Kookie?”

Jin’s expression darkened and he let out a sigh. “Didn’t want to watch. It’s not a pretty sight, so I’m just listening to make sure he doesn’t go too far.” He tapped his ear, making his small silver hoop shake.

You didn’t know how to respond, so you just gave him a tiny nod in understanding.

“I’m assuming you’re here to see him, yeah?”

You nodded again and looked past him down the hallway.

“Are you sure you want to see him right now? Like I said, it’s not exactly a pretty sight.”

You brought your eyes back to the male before you and affirmed that you did.

I want to see him. I need to see him… and he needs to know that I’m okay and awake.

Jin pursed his lips in thought for a few heartbeats then raised his hand to your shoulder. “Alright, little scorja¸ I’ll head back to give you two some privacy. Just make sure Kook doesn’t kill the bastard.” He gave your shoulder a light squeeze then stepped around you and walked down the hall, around the corner, and out of sight.

You inhaled slowly then released all the air in your lungs in one, strong huff as you began moving toward your destination. Toward Jungkook.

You reached the end of the hallway and turned left, your eyes now aimed at the opening at the end of the new hall. As your limping steps neared the doorway, you started hearing grunts of exertion and the thumping of knuckles hitting meaty skin. And they only increased in volume as you advanced further.

Finally, you arrived at the opening and the sounds of ragged breaths, moans, and pain were loud and clear. Steeling yourself, you placed a hand on the corner and peeked inside the room.

The smell of iron hit you and rapidly replaced the soft, honeysuckle scent of the temple. In the corner of the room, Jungkook crouched over the draikensu, who’s wrists and ankles were bound with rope. One hand was twisted in the male’s ripped shirt at the collar, the other was fisted and repeatedly smashing into the male’s swollen and puffy face. Even in the low light of the room, you could see how bruised and thrashed Jungkook’s knuckles were. The skin split and oozing blood. A testament to how hard and often he was hitting the draikensu who had attacked you.

Blood was staining the back of Jungkook’s hands and it was smeared across the draikensu’s face. The red liquid was leaking out of the male’s cracked lips in spitty dribbles while his eyes rolled back into his head from Jungkook’s assaults.

“Did you think you could get away with it? With going after them? Hurting my family?” Jungkook hissed at the bleeding, broken male as he brought his fist down yet again.

When he didn’t get a reply, Jungkook growled and heaved the draikensu up, pushing the barely conscious male into the wall. Before the draikensu could crumple to the ground, the Jungkook kneed the male in the gut and threw a powerful right hook into his jaw. Only then did Jungkook allow the draikensu to collapse to the floor in a heap of bloody, bruised, and limp flesh.

As he stood over the draikensu, you could see his shoulders rising and falling heavily with his breaths.

You took a tiny step inside the room. “If he’s dead, he won’t be able to say anything useful, you know?”

All the muscles in Jungkook’s body stiffened before he whipped around to stare at you in shock, though it quickly morphed back into a hardened expression. His jaw ticked and his green eyes glinted dangerously while you fully entered the room.

“If he’s dead, he can’t hurt you.”

You stared at each other, neither of you making a move… but you saw his hand twitch toward his ruby-hilted dagger.

You rolled your eyes. “But if he’s de-”

“No.” Jungkook cut you off and he wrapped his hand around the dagger’s handle and gripped it so tightly more blood leaked out from the openings on his knuckles. “He hurt you. He deserves to die.”

You blinked at him while he looked away and took several deep breaths. Slowly releasing his dagger, he brought his peridot eyes back to you. He seemed to hesitate for a heartbeat before rushing over and pulling you against his chest. Strong arms enwrapped you as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. Immediately, you placed your arms around him and closed your eyes while inhaling his familiar scent of steel and flowers. I was obscured a bit by the overwhelming scent of blood, but it still managed to both comfort you and send your heart into a frenzy.

Both of you stood in each other’s embrace for what seemed like a lifetime, but the moment was shattered as a manic laughter rose up and echoed throughout the room.

Jungkook untangled himself from you and looked behind him as you gazed past his shoulder. The draikensu was chuckling at the two of you while more blood seeped out of his mouth and onto his chin.

“I understand why it’s always you who pays me visits.” The male spat blood on the floor and smiled in a perverse way while propping himself up awkwardly due to his restrained wrists. “It’s because I almost killed your whore.”

Instantly, you noticed the way Jungkook narrowed his eyes and his tensed his body. He took a step toward the male, but you hastily grabbed his hand and yanked him back. The fucker was just goading Jungkook on, but he was too angry to realize it. Much to your surprise, though, the burgundy-haired Saeni let you hold him back and although he kept his focus on the draikensu, he threaded his fingers through yours.

The beaten male’s blown out and wild eyes dropped to your linked hands and he barked out more laughter. “Ah, you get put on a leash when she’s around, huh?”

Jungkook’s fingers tightened around your own and you heard him emit a low growl. You could tell he was about two seconds away from exploding, so before that could happen, you peeled your hand from his and approached the draikensu, doing your best to conceal your limp. You stood over the male, who showed off his crimson-stained teeth to you.

Tilting your head to the side, you smirked. “Actually, it’s me who needs the leash most of the time.”

Then, you raised your good leg and kicked the male straight in his bruised, puffy face, causing his head to snap back into the stone wall. The force of your kick made you lose what little consciousness he had left, and he slumped to the side with his eyes closed and mouth shut.

Placing your foot back on the floor, you let out a small groan as you returned your weight to your uninjured leg. Swiveling on your heels, you limped your way over the blood-puddled floor back to Jungkook who was gawking at you in awe. You murmured a ‘let’s go’ as you hobbled past him out of the room and into the hallway. Chuckling, Jungkook followed you out and caught up beside you, flexing his bruised, bloody knuckles as you walked side by side.

The Saeni blew out a puff of air as the scent of iron began to dissipate and be replaced with honeysuckle. “Is it bad that watching you do that kind of turned me on?”

His voice was light and joking, so you knew he wasn’t being serious. Though, you weren’t sure how to feel about that. Yet again, you found yourself being so confused by the male next to you. It seemed like a never-ending, recurring theme.

All you knew was that you were tired. The walking was making you tired. Seeing Jungkook like that made you tired. The kick made you tired. His comment made you tired. You were just… tired.

Sighing, you replied in a drained voice, “Seeing as how you don’t find me attractive… yeah, maybe a little.”

You forced out a small laugh and turned to the side to see Jungkook’s reaction, but he was no longer beside you. You slowed and fully turned to see that he had stopped walking and was looking down at the dusty floor. His hands were clenched, and you furrowed your brows. A couple moments passed before he finally lifted his head and you were confused to see conflict swimming in his peridot eyes.

Again, you found yourselves just staring at each other. Not moving. Not saying anything.

All of the sudden, Jungkook muttered to himself, relaxed his hands, and then, still without saying anything to you, walked over and scooped you into his arms bridal-style.

“Hey! What the hell!?” You smacked his chest lightly.

He glanced down at you briefly as he started making his way through the temple halls. “You were limping.”

“So?” You scoffed.

“So, I’m carrying you the rest of the way.”

You huffed and began pouting, crossing your arms over your chest as well as you could while being squished against Jungkook’s body. Yet as he continued walking, you couldn’t help but sigh in pleasure as your injured leg was finally free from your weight. There was still a dull throbbing, but the absence of the constant, piercing pain made your eyes begin to droop and before you knew it, you were struggling to keep your eyes open.

But you were just so tired. Too tired to fight the urge to sleep that beginning to take you over.

So, you didn’t fight it.

You whispered, “Thanks, Kookie…” and allowed your eyes to close and your head to lean into his chest.

Then you fell into an easy sleep, lulled by the strong beating of his heart.

“We need to decide who’s going to do it.”

“I would, I really would. But…”

“It’s okay, Tae, we know why you can’t, you don’t have to say it.”

Once again, you found yourself awakening in the middle of a conversation. You stirred lightly as you slowly came to your senses.

“I can do it. She saved my life after all.”

Namjoon.

“She saved mine too. And she’s my best friend.”

Jimin? JIMIN!? Okay, time to wake the fuck UP, Y/N. Jimin is here!

“Hyungs… let me do it. Please.”

Jungkook.

You forced your body to roll over onto your stomach and you raised your arms above your head, groaning pleasantly at the stretch. Once your little cat stretch was over, you opened your eyes and tucked your arms beneath your head to gaze up at the kiela. Luckily, it was now evening time, so you weren’t attacked by the bright harshness of the midday sun like last time.

“Mmmmm.” You sleepily moaned as you tried to process the conversation you heard. “What are you guys talking about?”

Every member snapped his jaw shut and looked at each other, silently urging someone else to say something. Jin nudged Namjoon with his foot, Yoongi yawned and gestured to Hobi, Jimin forcefully pushed Tae forward, and Jungkook just pointed at Yoongi with wide eyes.

You scoffed and pushed yourself up, resting your chin in your palm and looking at the collection of males before you with narrowed eyes. “Seriously?”

Why are they being so weird and sketchy?

“Uhhh…” They all continued to look between them.

Namjoon even coughed awkwardly.

Rolling your eyes, you took in an exaggerated breath through your nose. “Do you smell it?” The kiela all looked at you dumfounded. “That smell. A kind of smelly smell. The kind of smelly smell that smells…”

For Exia’s sake.” Jimin muttered as he caught on to what you were saying.

You raised a brow at the group of Saeni. “Suspiscious.”

“Holy shit, you didn’t do the full reference.” Your best friend pushed his apricot hair back with his hand, but when he realized your eyes were on him, he froze.

You took him in, noting that his leg was no longer twisted at an unnatural angle. He actually looked like he was, indeed, completely fine. While you studied him, he blinked at you and his surprised expression changed into a guilt-ridden one.

Suddenly, Jimin looked at his wrist and stammered, “Aw shit, look at the time! I need to get back to Jiae like right now, so bye!”

He shoved his way through his gaggle of brothers and began booking it out of there, like he was desperate to get away from you.

“PARK JIMIN!” You staggered to your feet, ignoring the flash of pain in your thigh, and pointed a finger at the boy menacingly. “If you do not bring your bubble butt back over here so we can talk I swear I’m going to hobble after you for all eternity like that demon thing from It Follows!”

The apricot head stopped in his tracks and slowly looked back at you in fear. You crossed your arms, lifted a brow, and tapped your foot on the ground impatiently.

Gulping, Jimin immediately fast-walked back and plopped down on the dirt in front of you while muttering about how much that movie scared him and how much he hated it in return

Snickering to yourself at how well you knew how to deal with Jimin’s stubborn ass, you sheepishly turned your attention to the other members. They had no clue what you had just threatened their brother with, but they all seemed a little startled and hesitant to find out.

“Um, would you guys mind maybe giving us a minute?”

It was like they all snapped out of a daydream simultaneously and they nodded their consent and began walking off in different directions. As Tae dragged Jungkook away toward the creek, you saw the burgundy-haired Saeni gazing over his shoulder at you so you sent him a tiny wave. Once they disappeared into the trees, you were about to go sit in front of your sulking best friend, but you suddenly remembered your mental promise from earlier. As fast as you could, you limped after Yoongi and Hobi, almost managing to trip over a rock in the process and calling out the former’s name along the way. The pair stopped when they heard you, and when you were close enough, you threw your arms around the mint-haired Saeni. Yoongi let out a grunt at the impact and although you wanted to squeeze him tightly to show your gratitude, you didn’t since you knew he probably wouldn’t appreciate it. Instead, after a couple seconds, you released the surprised male and just smiled at him.

“Thank you, Mr. Sparkle Hands. For not letting me croak just yet.”

Then you winked and gimped your way back to Jimin, who was watching you in amusement. Though, as soon as you returned your focus to him, he dropped his gaze to his hands that were clasped in his lap.

Your steps slowed as you approached, unsure as to what to say now that you had him alone and with you. Ultimately, you decided not to speak as you sat down across from your best friend, allowing him the opportunity to say something first.

You waited, watching the sun begin to dip lower and lower in the distance.

You waited, listening as the bugs became more and more active.

You waited and waited and waited.

Until finally, Jimin spoke.

“I knew you shouldn’t have come to Illain. I knew you were going to get hurt.” He still didn’t look up from his hands. “And it’s all my fault.”

You blew a raspberry and replied, “And if hadn’t come then who would’ve saved your sorry ass?”

Your attempt to lighten the atmosphere failed, as he only let his head fall further.

Way to go, you dumb bitch. You made him feel worse.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have saved me. Maybe you should have just let me die.”

You sucked in a breath as his self-deprecating tone filled your ears and you stared at him with eyes wide in disbelief.

Jimin...

“Maybe it all would be easier for everyone. For Exia’s sake, I don’t even know what I’m doing! I don’t even know how to fucking unlock the fucking secret that only I’m supposedly able to unlock! I’m not even a full Saeni and I never even met my damn father! How do we even know I can do it!? I-I just I don’t know what to do and everyone is relying on me to figure this out and if you had died, I would have been so lost, and I was so scared when I woke up and saw Yoongi frantically working over you.” Jimin tugged at his hair harshly then finally raised his head and you flinched at the pure pain and guilt that filled his brown eyes. “When I saw you… I thought you were actually dead. You were fucking covered in blood and your eyes were closed and I thought I had lost you… and then I learn that you were hurt because of me! Because I’m a goddamn failure that can’t do anything right! You got hurt because of me… so, how can it not be my fault!? It is my fault! I almost killed you… my own best friend… my family.”

Tears were dripping off his sharp jaw and he was breathing laboriously by the time he was finished. His anguished eyes looked into yours, desperate for you to affirm his statements. He felt helpless and wanted to wallow in his pain. He wanted you to confirm his words. He wanted you to agree that you almost died because of him. That you now hated him as a result. Because if you hated him, you would stay away. And then you would finally be safe from harm.

Seeing him like that shattered your heart and you felt your throat thicken as the strong boy you’ve known and cared for for years fell apart before your eyes.

You bit your lip, wanting to do nothing more than hold him in your arms and tell him how it wasn’t his fault, that you didn’t blame him… but you also knew how his mind functioned. You could repeat how nobody blamed him over and over and over until your voice was hoarse, and it would have no impact on him. He was just too stubborn and in his own head. Only he would be able to forgive himself for something he didn’t even do and change his perspective.

You let out a puff of air as you kept your gaze trained on Jimin and you clapped your hands together. “Alright, I’m only going to say this once, so listen the fuck up Slim Jim. In the end, it’s up to you whether or not you pull your head out of your own ass and believe me. Just know that I, in no way, shape, or form, blame you. What happened isn’t your fault.” He went to argue, but you sternly spoke over him. “It was entirely my decision. I was the one who leapt off the roof. I was the one who jumped in front of the knife. I was the one who decided to risk my life. Not you. Not anyone else. Me. My decision.”

Jimin tightly shut his eyes, causing more tears to leak out from the corners.

“It’s up to you to accept that or not. But I don’t blame you and I don’t regret what I did either.” You reached out and gently squeezed his knee.

“I don’t… I don’t know if I can completely accept that yet.” Jimin replied in a soft, tiny voice as he sniffled and reopened his eyes to stare at where your hand rested on his knee. “But… I’ll try to.”

You patted his knee and smiled at him. “Okay.”

Jimin took a big breath and sloppily wiped at his face with his fingers before wrapping a hand around your wrist and tugging you forward so he could embrace you.

He held you tenderly as he whispered how sorry he was for not being by your side the past few days. Ignoring the protest in your forearm and thigh, you secured all four of your limbs around the boy and hugged him hard. You told him that he didn’t need to worry about it and that you were just so glad he was alive. Then you wacked him on the back with your hand, making him yelp in surprise, and you scolded him for scaring you and telling him to never do that again.

Jimin giggled. “No promises, but I’ll do my best as long as you never do that again either.”

You leaned back so you could look the half-Saeni in his tear-reddened eyes and you stuck your tongue out at him. “No promises.”

Your best friend just sighed and mumbled about how he could never win with you.

You poked him in the arm. “Hey, Namjoon said you broke your leg, some ribs, and had a concussion, so…”

“So how am I walking around A-okay?”

You nodded.

“Ah, since hyung was, um… preoccupied… with you and my injuries weren’t too severe, Hobi hyung got me all healed up.”

You began cooing at Jimin, pinching his cheeks and commenting about how older brother took such good care of him. The apricot head rolled his eyes and swatted your hands away, but even though he tried to appear annoyed, he couldn’t hide the grin that teased his lips.

Smiling back, you slowly unwound yourself from him, careful not to disturb your wounds any more than you already had. Once you were successfully back to your original spot, Jimin asked if you were good and you pursed your lips and nodded while making a noise of confirmation.

Although you told him you were feeling fine, the apricot head still told you he was going to find Yoongi and have him check on you just in case. You blew out another raspberry and settled back on your sleeping mat as Jimin stood and brushed off the dirt from his pants.

“Be honest, you just want an excuse to leave me so you can go find your girl.” You teased him while wiggling your brows.

Jimin laughing, making his eyes squished closed and you looked at him fondly. “Maybe. But you know you’ll always be my girl too, right? Unless, of course, Kook’s not okay with that.”

He winked at you and you groaned, covering your face with your hands before he could see the heat rising to your cheeks.

Between your fingers you hissed, “Fucking hell, stop! He could hear you!”

“Mhmm, sure, whatever you say… Mrs. Jeon.”

“Okay, yup, please go. Leave me.” You buried your head in your arms to hide your growing embarrassment.

Mrs. Y/N Jeo-HAHA NOPE. Not going there. Cease all brain activity.

Jimin laughed again and bid you goodbye, telling you he’d see you in a bit. Though before he could get far, you bolted upright and called out his name so he would look back at you.

“Please try to accept it, okay?”

He sent you a sad smile and nodded. “Okay.”

Then he turned around and walked off into the trees to find his mint-haired brother as you collapsed back onto your mat and stared at the slowly darkening sky.

Please try to.

A little while later, you had all just finished eating dinner prepared by the one and only Papa Jin. Before you had started eating, though, Jiae had rushed over and pulled you into a soft hug, expressing her happiness that you were okay. She also thanked you for being brave and saving Jimin. You just quietly hugged her back until she was satisfied and let you go. As she hurried over to where Jimin sat, Chungha passed you and you had to snort at how she didn’t even spare you a single glance. It was just so typical Chungha.

Afterwards, you made your way to your usual spot between Tae and Jungkook, your strides not as strained as they had been a couple hours prior. Jimin had kept his word and sent Yoongi over to check on you after your conversation and the magic user had done a little more healing on you, much to your protest. You didn’t want the mint-haired Saeni to exhaust himself even more, but he had insisted until you gave in. He really had a knack for getting his way. When the soft blue glow had begun to emit from his hands, you had debated whether or not to bring up the kiela’s spy, but in the end, you decided to keep your mouth shut because Yoongi was tired. And tired Yoongi definitely did not want to discuss feelings.

As you had dragged yourself over to your usual spot and sat between the two Saeni who were joking with each other like they typically did, you had almost cried at the smell of Jin’s cooking. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until the delicious scent hit your nose. The smell had made you salivate so much, you had practically vibrated in excitement when Jin poured you a little cup of stew. He had been cautious not to give you too much since he didn’t want you getting sick by eating a lot after not doing so for a couple days. It was a good thing he thought of that too, because you would have tried to eat the entire pot. Snatching the cup out of his hands, you had been eager to stuff yourself, but before you did, you made sure to turn to the decently-sized campfire and pour some of the food into the flames. You had murmured a thank you to Exia and Illai for giving you strength and for keeping you alive and asked them to continue watching over you. Jungkook had been the only one to notice your actions and he smiled before returning his eyes to his meal, not saying a word as you sat beside him and began spooning the stew into your mouth.

Now, as you rubbed your full, content tummy and held a discussion with Tae about who the best starter Pokémon was, you felt a nudge at your side.

What does Jungkook want now?

Sure, he had been quiet at the start of the meal, but as the sky grew darker, he became more and more loud and touchy. Constantly poking and interrupting you, almost like he was desperate for your attention.

He is such a little shit sometimes.

At first, you disregarded his nudging because detailing why Mudkip was your preferred pick was much more important than dealing with a whiny Jungkook. Eventually, his nudges increased in power, so your entire body swayed each time he touched you.

“For fuck’s sake! What do you need, you big baby!?” You finally had enough and turned to the green-eyed male.

His lips dropped into a pout and he pointed at himself. “I’m not a big baby, I’m a big boy! You’ve said it yourself!”

“That sentence was basically a direct example of baby boy culture,” you muttered to yourself before shaking your head. “Anywho, what do you keep violently nudging me for?”

Jungkook pouted even harder, crossing his arms over his chest. Usually the action would make him appear bigger and bulge his muscles, but for some reason it just made his seem soft and squishy at the moment.

“Not until you say it.”

Sighing, you rolled your eyes at the childish Saeni. “Say what?”

“That I’m a big boy!” His green eyes widened cutely.

Oh my goddess.

You heard Tae struggle to contain a snort next to you.

You inhaled and closed your eyes, pressing your fingers to your forehead for a moment as you collected yourself. “Alright, fine. You’re such a big boy, Kookie.”

The male instantly uncrossed his arms and looked mighty pleased with himself as Tae wheezed and covered his mouth.

Jungkook’s face turned serious as he rose to his feet, grabbing your hand and pulling you up too in the process. “Come on, I want to show you something. Hop up.” He turned around and presented you his back.

Mhmm. Tell the girl with the injured leg to ‘hop.’ You mentally rolled your eyes but did as he instructed.

Securing his hands underneath your thighs, he made sure you were properly hoisted as you tucked your chin against his shoulder. Satisfied you wouldn’t be going anywhere, he began strutting off into the trees, not even giving you a chance to say a decent goodbye to the others.

Then you, or more accurately he, trekked through the forest, his steps quiet but hasty. It was getting darker and darker by the minute; the sun was finally setting and casting an aurora of colors in the sky.

You patted Jungkook’s firm chest twice as he stepped up and over a fallen tree and you giggled in his ear. “Is this the part where you take me deep into the woods and murder me?”

The green-eyed male shivered at the sensation of your breath ghosting against his neck before chuckling at you. “You’re awful cheerful over the thought of being possibly murdered.”

“What can I say? I love a good murder mystery.”

“I don’t think it would be much of a mystery since everyone saw you leave on my back.” Jungkook laughed again, the sound like music to your ears, and shook his head, which caused his burgundy hair and earrings to sway back and forth from the movement.

“Damn, that’s true.” You frowned and dropped your chin back onto his shoulder as a mass of leaves glided against your side. “Alright, don’t murder me then, there would be no fun involved.”

“I… you’re really fucking something else. But hey, do me a favor and close your eyes, okay?”

You did and he continued to walk for another minute, steps still silent and still not telling you where he was taking you. You heard him brush aside a few branches, making the leaves shake against each other. He took a couple more steps forward then softly told you to open your eyes.

You peeked through your lashes then gasped and shot your eyes open all the way as your back went ramrod straight. The two of you were on a cliff with a perfect view of the setting sun. The sky was like a watercolor painting; fading from a rich black, to a dark navy, to a bright red, and then a delicate orange. You could see the forest stretched out below you, still somewhat visible in the dying sunlight.

“Wow.” You gaped at the sight before you.

Jungkook smiled shyly. “You like it?”

You blinked in amazement and tapped his shoulder to let him know you wanted to be put down. “It’s so beautiful, how could I not like it?”

The Saeni eased you to the ground and watched as you walked to the edge of the cliff so you could sit down and swing your legs below you.

“Why did you bring me here?”

Jungkook laughed nervously as he joined you at the edge. “I, um, you went through a lot, so I wanted you to experience something nice.”

You felt your cheeks flush and you smiled warmly at the male as a gust of wind caused goosebumps to form on your skin.

Or maybe it’s not because of the wind…

Jungkook stared out at the horizon, the orange glow causing his green eyes to sparkle and his hair to appear pinker than ever.

“You know, I was really scared you were going to die. Especially after hearing you whisper my name. I thought that that was it. That you were gone. And I didn’t know what how to deal with it. I’m sure hyungs told you, but I sort of went crazy. Instead of being there for you, instead of trying to save you, I left and went on a rampage.” He sighed into the sunset. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You exhaled slowly as you studied his features before grabbing ahold of one of his hands. “You don’t need to apologize. I’m alive. Everything’s okay.”

He smiled faintly but kept his eyes forward. “Regardless, I just want you to know that I’m sorry.” He laughed at himself weakly. “Fuck, I even had a dream that you died. That no matter what I did, you kept dying. Over and over right in front of me. It was just the two of us and inky darkness, but I could never reach you in time.”

“Hey, but you did. You tackled the draikensu before he could kill me. You got to me in time.” You scooted closer to him, so your thighs were touching, and you intertwined your fingers with his.

“I guess I did…” He paused for a moment then cleared his throat. “Um, so this is random, but Tae’s told you about his mark, right?”

You looked at him in puzzlement, wondering why he changed the topic to that all of the sudden. “Uh, the one his father gave him to share the draeva connection? That mark?”

Jungkook nodded and opened his mouth but hesitated and closed it. You felt his fingers tighten around yours a little as he let out a breath and opened his mouth again.

Then he told you the kiela had talked and unanimously agreed that they wanted to induct you as an honorary member of the kiela.

Your eyes bugged out. “Wait, WHAT!?”

He smiled at your outburst and raised his free hand to rub the back of his neck. “That’s what we were talking about when you woke up earlier; we were deciding who would give you the mark.”

“WHAT THE FUCK!? WHY DIDN’T YOU JUST TELL ME THEN!?” You yanked your hand out of his and fully turned your body to face him with both your eyebrows raised high.

Is that even possible!? Or allowed!?

It was getting so dark, but you could still make out the faint blush that touched his cheeks and he continued rubbing his neck. “We, uh, hadn’t decided on who would give you the mark yet and didn’t want to say anything until we did.”

“Holy shit, okay wait, so I’m gonna have a connection to a draeva? To Illain!? Oh my fucking-wow, I never-wow… but that’s a big deal, right? The other person loses some of their connection, so who would do that for me?”

Jungkook dropped the hand that had been rubbing his nape and turned to fully face you as well. “Actually, everyone was willing, but… we decided it would be me.”

You brought a hand up to cover your mouth in shock as he gave you a lopsided grin. You were speechless, touched, honored.

And Jungkook wants to give me the mark. He wants to share his connection with me.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you said, though it was muffled by your hand.

Jungkook snorted and peeled it away from your mouth but didn’t let go of your hand as you just blinked in incredulity at the whole thing.

“Um, can I ask why you?” You bit your lip as the wind picked up for a moment. “No offense, but why not Jimin?”

The male coughed at your question. “Oh, um… it’s because, uh…”

He avoided your gaze and started fidgeting; tapping his free fingers against his thigh, toying with the belt that held his dagger, playing with the pebbles on the ground next to him.

Cute.

“Because of…?” You inquired as you pursed your lips. “Is it because you’re my teacher or mentor or whatever?”

He abruptly stilled, his entire body tensing up. The only movement that came from him was the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Then, just as suddenly as he had stopped fidgeting, he brought his eyes back to you and just stared. You tilted your head to the side, trying to decipher what was going on in that burgundy head of his.

Not that I would ever be able to guess.

You dragged your bottom lip between your teeth as you studied him, and the action made his green eyes drop to your mouth. He let out a prolonged exhale and muttered ‘fuck it.’

Before you could blink, he raised his free hand, cupped your jaw, and leaned in.

Before you could think, he connected your lips harshly.

Before you could react, he moved back an inch.

It felt like the air was stolen from your lungs as his lips hovered above yours. The sounds of the universe shrunk until all that could be heard was the combination of your breaths and the thudding of your heart. You stared at him with wide eyes and his chest heaved up and down.

“Because of this,” whispered as he looked into your eyes.

Then he moved back in, attacking your lips with fervor. Your eyes instinctually closed while you tried to keep up with his demanding pace. Tingles erupted over your skin and you felt yourself grow dizzy. Whether it was from the lack of air or from the pure sensation of his lips against yours, you weren’t sure.

Dropping your hand, he tangled his fingers in your hair and tilted your head to his liking. He sucked on your bottom lip and pulled it between his teeth, adding just a hint of pain to the passionate pleasure of his ministrations. It made you softly moan, and you raised your hands to grip his arms and steady yourself. You felt the teasing of his tongue at the seam of your lips, and you immediately granted him access. You didn’t even attempt to take control. You just let him dominate you however he pleased. He groaned into your mouth at how easily you succumbed to him, and the sinful sound made you desperate for more.

More of his lips.

More of his tongue.

More of his touch.

More of him.

The hand that cupped your jaw moved higher, so that he held the side of your face. Suddenly, the harshness of his lips softened, and he slowed down. His kisses becoming longer and gentler, allowing you to catch your breath. Though it did nothing to lessen the shivers of pleasure racking your body nor the warmth surging within your heart. Nothing could quiet the explosion of sensation that was flowing and shuddering through you. Not when he was touching you, kissing you.

Then, he placed one last lingering peck on your swollen lips and pulled back. As he retreated and you struggled to control your breathing, the entirety of what he just did hit you. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, not sure of what just happened.

SERIOUSLY, WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED!?

“W-Why would you do that?” You asked him shakily, partially because you were still breathless and partially because you were so scared he would hurt your heart… again.

He leaned in and rested his forehead against yours. “I…I lied.”

“Um…” You responded in a small voice. “Lied about what?”

He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths before staring straight into your eyes.

“I lied about not being attracted to you… fuck, sweetheart, you have no idea what you do to me.” You stilled as he tightened his fingers in your hair and swept his thumb across your cheekbone. “You’re the most beautiful flower I’ve ever seen… and every single day you make me want you even more.”

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dantesinfcrno · 4 years

Text

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

( @opalsmedia )

› 𝑰. ACE OF CUPS .

❝ divine love and compassion are pouring through you. you are a vessel for deep, spiritual love from the universe, and you can’t help but let that love flow through you and into the world. you are love & your heart overflows . ❞

𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐋𝐋 –––––– the days grow darker than you’ve expected, and that harms the sweet thing you call a heart. the numerous fights, the copious amounts of tension, and the stress that pools in your stomach –– you’re certain you can’t handle it any longer. perhaps, you are too soft for this world in which anger & chaos reign. you try and shield yourself, but it’s never enough : your heart still beats so strongly, and you can’t stop giving & giving, until you’re alone with the remains of your chest. you weren’t expecting a ruthless emerald to open his arms to you, and yet–– in him, you discover at least one safe spot, tucked away from the world & all things evil. he reminds you of a book you loved as a child, and he has a nice way with words –– it makes dreaming easier, in such harsh times, and you can smile when he is around. he does not ask anything from you. you are grateful.

𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 ╱ view here.

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 ╱ braver soldier, russian red + i like me better, lauv + boats & birds, gregory and the hawk.

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 ╱ laughter that fills our lungs ; smiling until our cheeks ache & our bellies are warm ; yellow and orange shades peppered across your skin ; the summer bringing out your freckles. we find secret gardens & have picnics, us and the fairies. childhood is still very reminiscent in the way we lay down and embrace one another. we speak of running away, but instead just end up with more polaroids on our desks. i prefer your sweater much more than my own. cozy blankets ; soft intimacy ; rose-colored glasses.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 ╱ ❝ on empathy : what it sounds like is a bird breaking small bones against glass . ❞

› 𝑰𝑰. THE HIGH PRIESTESS .

❝ the guardian of the subconscious mind and the teacher of sacred knowledge and hidden mysteries. she ushers you through the thin veil of awareness, offering you a deep, intuitive understanding of the universe and a heightened awareness of secret or hidden information . ❞

𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐋𝐋 –––––– you are a very distant cousin, maybe not even that. you grew up hearing tales of dante’s mother, and you are keenly aware of the distaste your family has for her, her husband, and her son. you’ve seen each other once or twice, but you know dante desai –– all the rumors, scandals, absurdities & controversies. he might not have given you a word, but your image of the emerald with a dazzling smile has darkened under the influence of gossip and ill-intentioned people. you are not sure why he’s in the society at all and, if you’re being candid, he doesn’t seem deserving of any of your respect –– but alas, business means business, so you try and play nice ( it fails, more often than not, as he seems to know every word uttered about himself in his absence ). he teases you, and pushes you to try harder, reach farther. it annoys you deeply, and you hold back from simply telling him to shut up. maybe you want to prove you’re so much better, maybe you want to make him aware of how much he’s missing. maybe you just want the approval of someone, anyone.

𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 ╱ view here.

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 ╱ black sheep, gin wigmore + hit me with your best shot, adona + make me your queen, declan mckenna.

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 ╱ misplaced competitiveness & rivalry ; wanting to prove yourself ; defiant words and poignant stares ; discovering the truth isn’t always hand-fed ; accepting the lies you were told when growing up & moving on from them ; familial resentment ; finding things in common with someone you hate ; learning you share many scars with the object of your disdain. biting remarks & vicious tongue ; clashing of titans. finding an equal match to the monster that crawls under your skin. enemies to friends.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 ╱ ❝ the monster. the dreamer, the eater. the eater monster. you the monster, i the monster. all of us the monster. the monster in us, the monster in you. the monster in all of us . ❞

› 𝑽. THE HIEROPHANT, ꓤƎꓥƎꓤSƎꓷ .

❝ you are your own teacher. all the wisdom you seek comes from within – not from some external source or power. the hierophant reversed is also about challenging the status quo. you seek out opportunities to rebel and reclaim your personal power . ❞

𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐋𝐋 –––––– you’ve always had your eyes on dante, it seems –– it’s not at all too hard for it to happen, considering the bright glitter & colorful clothes, but you perhaps admire him more than your peers. individuality attracts you, and you may or may not have one silly crush on this man –– however, once you came closer, an infatuation turned into a solid bond. you seem to share similar principles, and the need for freedom & change is rooted deeply in both of your cores. you can speak for hours on end about everything at all, open-mindedness not shared with many others you’ve met. everyone might be worried once the two of you are seen together, as you’re always up for some trouble –– but, maybe, that’s just how love works in this friendship. fire burns brighter as you come together as an unit, and it almost makes you giddy.

𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 ╱ view here.

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 ╱ void, the neighbourhood + come as you are, nirvana + sober ii (melodrama), lorde.

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 ╱ forbidden crushes ; midnight escapades ; i know your favorite wine & you know how many drinks it takes for me to get tipsy ; we know each other at our worsts. the act of loving & supporting each other in all one sets their mind to. may be guilty of arson & invasion of properties. the lack of hesitation to defend one another. uniqueness & playfulness ; deep conversations under the moonlight ; sharing the same fears we never uttered aloud ; feeling trapped under the same pretense of freedom ; watching clouds & constellations ; staying awake until seven am to see the sun rise.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 ╱ ❝ wings are freedom only if they are open in flight. on one’s back they are a heavy weight . ❞

› 𝑽𝑰𝑰𝑰. JUSTICE .

❝ represents justice, fairness, truth and the law. you are being called to account for your actions and will be judged accordingly. as you explore your truth, you will discover that things are not as clear-cut as you had thought . ❞

𝐎𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 –––––– admitting to his past relationship with his own predecessor put a huge toll on dante’s shoulders, and you now observe him with more care, an attention you never truly bestowed upon the trickster of your circlet. his distress might tug at your heartstrings, it might make you wonder –– you might see him differently, now. your relationship might be strained. perhaps, you desire to reach out, offer the support he never asked for. perhaps, you do not know how. you are curious and worried, but the feelings of betrayal still linger on your bloodstream, whether you like it or not. should you ask for clarifications? step further into his personal space? should you step back, abstain from commenting anything? does he need your help? does he even care about what you think?

𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 ╱ view here.

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 ╱ you don’t know me at all, son lux + stop crying your heart out, oasis + all for us, labrinth & zendaya.

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 ╱ lingering stares across the room ; desiring to speak but now knowing how ; sending text messages but not wanting to read the replies ; sheepish smiles & shared silences ; holding back your tears, even while near loved ones ; solitary nights with clouds covering every star. i worry for you, dear one, but you make it so hard to take care of you. when it rains, we hold each other’s hands. you taste sour, i taste bittersweet, but we still love. i would do it all for you, why won’t you ask for it?

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 ╱ ❝ sorry about the blood in your mouth. i wish it was mine . ❞

› 𝑿𝑽. THE DEVIL, ꓤƎꓥƎꓤSƎꓷ .

❝ calls on you to confront your inner fears to free yourself from the chains that bind you to your limiting beliefs and unhealthy attachments. it can also appear when you are going into your deepest, darkest places. you seek to understand your innermost shadows so you can either release them or integrate them into your life in a more constructive way . ❞

𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐋𝐋 –––––– you struggle, and you struggle hard. you would never admit you’re going through a heavy time, perhaps not even to yourself. you move lightly, with grace, and no one questions the tightness of your smile. it’s easy, like this –– except you’re tired, and your bones ache, and you can barely sleep at night. it surprises you, however, once you find the bright emerald drinking by himself in one of the shitty bars you go whenever life gets rough. you sit by his side, you both share a sigh & a shot. he finds out one of your many secrets, and you discover some of his scars, and the pills on his pocket. you hold his hand, and he takes you home safely, kisses your forehead while bidding you good night. you share many text messages, and you meet up often. you get better at recognizing the signs of sadness on each other’s faces. life is not any happier, but now, at least–– you have an emergency contact. you can sob on his shoulders until you fall into unconsciousness. he smiles at you in the morning and brings you coffee. no more words are needed.

𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 ╱ view here.

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 ╱ shadows, warpaint + blinding, florence and the machine + haunt, banks.

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 ╱ blue shades ; melancholy ; van gogh’s paintings ; scars that never fade away ; the dull ache of quiet piano strings echoing throughout an empty room at the darkest hour. inebriated confessions ; hushed conversations ; many bottles of whiskey, both cheap & incredibly expensive. not knowing much about each other, and yet discovering the hidden away pieces by yourself. becoming dependent on the emotion of being understood & seen. helping each other up and forward, even when there is no strength left. exhausted & broken smiles ; thunderstorms ; lending you my jacket and never getting it back, because you need as much comfort as you can get ; dancing in the rain & laughing about it hard and loud.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 ╱ ❝ i have no more room for grief for it is everywhere now . ❞

› 𝑿𝑽𝑰𝑰. THE STAR, ꓤƎꓥƎꓤSƎꓷ .

❝ can mean that you’ve lost faith and hope. you may be desperately calling out to the universe to give you some reprieve but struggling to see how the divine is on your side. take a moment to ask yourself what the deeper life lesson is, and how this is a blessing, not a punishment. the reversed star is a test of faith . ❞

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 –––––– the opal society, more than ever, seems like bullshit to you. you are angry, upset, distraught–– you can think of many words that echo your insatisfaction, and this initiation process no longer looks like something you want to be a part of. life is a burden heavy enough without a secret society wrapped in the mayhem of horny young adults tying you to statues. you definitely didn’t expect for dante, of all people, to become a guiding light –– the one that took his own initiation as a joke, broke the rules, and is known for frequently getting in trouble? how the fuck could that guy give you answers? truth be told, he doesn’t –– nothing is ever easy with him, it seems, and no surface-level impression seems to make him justice. the both of you now speak frequently, and he helps you stabilize your thoughts –– the guy can manage to give out some decent advice, at least, and you might even trust him, now. he likes pros & cons lists, and also vaguely pointing at the light at the end of the tunnel, just enough so it will fill you with hope. it is enough, for now.

𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 ╱ view here.

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 ╱ i need some sleep, eels + i’ll die anyway, girl in red + i found, amber run.

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 ╱ an unexpected discovery ; knowledge where you thought least possible to find. the trade of fears & unsure confessions ; gentle parental guidance into the shoes meant for you to fit. tender reassurances over the phone ; a pat on the back ; a small gift that means “ i am proud of you ”. rediscovering the love for one’s circlet through the eyes of another. silent promises ; candles & wishes you never shared before ; feeling as if you’ve known someone from your past lives & forever carrying them in your heart.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 ╱ ❝ you are in conflict with yourself. you are holding yourself in check. you are paralyzing yourself . ❞

› 𝑿𝑰𝑿. THE SUN, ꓤƎꓥƎꓤSƎꓷ .

❝ is calling to your inner child to come out and play. see it as your permission slip to leave behind your responsibilities, even just for a moment, and play. you may have experienced setbacks that damaged your enthusiasm and optimism and perhaps led you to question whether you can achieve what you set out to do . ❞

𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐋𝐋 –––––– dante is a disappointment to you. he let you down or hurt your feelings, and you can’t forgive him for that ( and you won’t even try, because he doesn’t deserve it ). there are plenty of good memories attached to his name, but it all has turned sour, and you want to watch it crash & burn. he might try and make amends, but you know he doesn’t even care for you, deep down –– he is trying for your sake, perhaps, but not because he nourishes an affection for you, and that stings. if it has to be like this, you want at least to let him know how irresponsible actions are not easily forgiven. a broken heart for another seems fair trade to you, and you no longer care for entertaining an endless discussion, as long as you’re on the winning side.

𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 ╱ view here.

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 ╱ no one loves me & neither do i, them crooked vultures + motion sickness, phoebe bridgers + eyes, nose, lips, tablo.

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 ╱ unanswered phone calls ; ghosting ; writing letters just to burn them. cold war & avoidance. knowing that you want what you can not have. marble statues ; an empty bed ; freezing fingers & no one to hold your hand. emptiness ; the feeling of being unworthy ; lighting a match once the power goes out & sitting alone at your couch, daydreaming. bittersweet intimacy. the fact that someone you now hate knows way too much about you. not letting go.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 ╱ ❝ he fatally wounded me; that is, he gave me the wound that only love could repair . ❞

#opalstask #opalsplots #𝑰𝑰𝑰 : WANTED .#this is .. so long #im sorry if its messy and it doesnt make sense a

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