#I hadn’t noticed that one of the branches was wicking the water up into the sand

[skvaderarts]

Petrichor Chapter 70: Puncture

Chapter 70: Puncture

Note: How’s your week been? Did you get to see the Eclipse?

(-~-)

The road stretched out before them like an arrow being nocked in a bow, straight and clearly visible. It didn’t deviate for several miles, unchanging as far as they could currently see. Raised above the ground in a manner not dissimilar to that of a causeway, the road they drove on had a small railing on either side that kept them where they should be and the tree branches contained. They were flanked on their right side by a dense forest and a grassy, tree-scattered embankment on the left. A river lapped lazily at its edge with only a small current to cut around what few rocks it possessed.

Out of a sense of professionalism and a general desire to be as alert as possible for their own sakes, no one had asked to turn the radio in the car on. And with just shy of an hour left before they reached their destination, everyone present was eager to continue enjoying the silence. There wasn’t much to talk about besides work, anyway.

Kayro sat in the front passenger seat, his arm leaning against the door and his chin resting upon it as he enjoyed the rush of fresh air and the smell of the water and the woods. There was a dampness to the air. The trees rustled as the breeze picked up slightly and wicked moisture out of the leaves and onto the ground from the recent rain. It smelled fresh. How many more times would it rain before the snow came? It was cold, but he didn’t mind. He’d always enjoyed the transitional period between “technically winter as far as the Callender was concerned” and “true winter” as he liked to categorize them. He’d been called pedantic once at work for expressing that sentiment, a notion that Sirrus had quickly shot down saying that it was the kind of little thing that many people probably didn’t notice, but something they both appreciated, small though it might be. 

That had been the beginning of their work friendship. Over such a mundane thing at the coffee machine. And Sirrus hadn’t even been getting coffee.

The Adjudicator in the black seat thought about his friend at that moment and the individual that he’d introduced to him earlier that week. His name had been V, hadn’t it? He hoped their endeavor was going well in much the same way that he hoped his own would. He felt entirely out of his element right now. He couldn’t wait to be back inside his familiar, climate-controlled box where he knew where everything was and how it worked. He’d been thoroughly institutionalized; the concept of work becoming purpose a long time ago in lieu of anything in his own personal life filling that same role. And although he recognized that having that kind of relationship with his job was probably unhealthy, he still felt a sense of fulfillment. Strange as it was, he enjoyed his job, mundane and filled with legalese and piles of confusing documents as it might be.

Perhaps growing tired of the pervasive silence that had settled over the vehicle, the driver took his right hand off of the steering wheel for just a moment, taking advantage of the fact that they were on a perfectly straight road to point over his shoulder at their passenger. He was not keen to take his eyes off of the road, so looking at the man he was talking about was going to have to wait.

“Should I even ask?” His morbid curiosity towards what their passenger had done had gotten the better of him, it seemed. He wasn’t expecting an in-depth explanation right now, but he certainly was hoping to get the cliff notes.

“Oh, it’s a long story. I stopped eight pages into Sirrus’s report.” Kayro was amused by the fact that his work partner had been incensed enough to actually write a report that long. Sirrus had received side eye at the office on more than one occasion for his penchant towards famously short field reports. Some of their superiors found it amusing and some of them wanted to ring his neck, but the reports had been written and filed within guidelines, so there had been little grounds to complain about it.

Kayro noticed the way that Agreus oh so subtly shifted his head at the mention of Sirrus. Even through the mask he couldn’t help but notice the intense flurry of emotions their prisoner had just experienced in such short order. He didn’t visibly display it in the slightest, but he’d certainly felt them. And Kayro was willing to bet that the summoner was not pleased to know that Sirrus still lived, let alone that he was now in the custody of some of his colleagues.

“I’ll have to take a look at it when we get back to headquarters.” Came the response of the second guard who sat directly behind Kayro. He’d honestly tuned out the fact that he was there about an hour ago for no reason other than a desire to relax and forget what he was doing for a moment. He was more than welcome to join the conversation. It could hardly be considered eavesdropping when they were all in the same car, now could it?

“Yeah, he never writes reports. I have to see this.” The driver chimed in, glancing back for just a moment at Agreus before returning his eyes to the road. A shiver ran down his spine at the very notion of what the summoner might have done. None of them had even the faintest idea what Sirrus was capable of, Kayro included, but if asked they would all attest to his durability and skill. The fact that he’d been put out of commission was not something that had gone unnoticed back at the office.

The three of them chuckled, utterly amused by the notion. They were surely going to have some fun mucking around the office when Sirrus eventually came back to work.

“Hey, do you think-” The driver didn’t get a chance to finish his statement. To the shock of every other passenger in the car, Agreus suddenly latched his cuffs around the neck of the driver from the seat behind them, anchoring him with all his strength to the back of the seat with nearly enough force to break his neck. Somehow in the brief moment that they’d taken their eyes off of him, he’d gotten free. He’d done it so fast that none of them had registered what was happening until it was too late. And only a half second later the air around them shifted and took on an unearthly quality as everything went still. And then the air returned, slamming into them from behind as the guard in the back seat scrambled towards Agreus and Kayro moved to undo his seatbelt so he could better assist his colleague. But a wave of dread hit them both as they felt the air shift again just outside of the now slaloming car, the vehicle lurching out of control as its driver lost his grip on the steering wheel and involuntarily led-footed the gas pedal.

Something was coming.

In the blink of an eye, the car lurched hard to the left as something smashed into them with terrifying force, sending them skidding into the railing as something that neither Kayro nor anyone else in the vehicle could fully make full contact with the right side of the car. They caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a long, serpentine creature, something that definitely wasn’t of this world, but what it was wasn’t clear in the brief moment that they’d gotten the chance to see it. Though some guesses were in order.

Within seconds the car slammed hard into the metal railing and flipped sideways, tumbling with the force of a battering ram down the grassy embankment. The airbags engaged, forcing most of the air out of Kayro and the driver’s lungs as they lurched forward unstoppably. The car struck a tree, sending one of the passengers tumbling out of a now wrecked side door as the car was forced diagonally upward, flipping end to end a total of two times as the driver was thrown through the windshield before the vehicle collided with the treeline nearest to the water. It came to a stop instantly, the sheer force of what was left of the front windshield being blown out as branches impaled the car from multiple angles forcing the car into a hard stop. 

Upside-down.

Blinking slowly as everything slowly faded in from black, Kayro came to the slow but worrying realization that everything was the wrong way up and that he was wet, but only the back part of the car was even remotely near water. Outside he heard incoherent screams, gunfire, and the inhuman roars of… something. He didn’t know what, but if he was going to make a guess, a demon of some sort. Several of them.

He needed to get out of the car.

From his current position inside of the now upside-down vehicle, he couldn’t see the second car. It had seemingly vanished in the commotion. Or perhaps it was parked at the top of the embankment. What he could tell was that he was now alone in the car, everyone else either having left him there for the time being or having been forcefully removed from the vehicle during the wreck. He had no idea how long he’d been out of it, But it felt like a minute or two. Probably longer than he should have been, as far as his health and well-being were concerned.

But as he struggled to find the seatbelt latch so that he could unbuckle himself, he felt something warm and wet saturate his sleeve. He wasn’t able to tell what it was instantly due to the color of his clothing, but as he looked intently at the fabric, he noticed a tinge of red. And in an instant, everything around him went silent as his heart pounded like a frightened lamb. The screams of his coworkers became distant, the only sounds he comprehended being the sound of his own blood rushing through his body and the catching of his breath in his chest as he shook in terror. 

He understood why he was wet now. 

As he undid the seatbelt latch and dropped about two feet to the now crumpled roof of the car on his upper back and shoulders, he inadvertently discovered the source. Several of the branches that had punctured the car had also punctured him. And as he registered the taste of blood for the first time he realized that he’d bitten his tongue during the accident when his airbag had deployed at such close range. A few of the larger branches were still stuck, but they didn’t remain that way for long.

Moments later everything went silent. As Kayro whipped his head around and attempted to ascertain what was going on, he suddenly felt something unseen latch onto the car and compress it like it had just been shoved into a car compactor. The car tipped on its side, the loose door swinging open on its hinges as he tumbled out and fell about ten feet to the ground on his side, ripping loose from the branches in the process. The impact was so ferocious that the only thing he was capable of doing was gasping as the wind was knocked out of him.

A great, serpentine demon loomed over him, baring its teeth before effortlessly tossing the car partially into the river as though it were a child’s toy. Or perhaps more like a dog discarding a thoroughly chewed-out bone. It held off, waiting for its master’s orders. And it did not wait long. Agreus appeared mere seconds later, limping slightly but otherwise largely unharmed. It seemed that the demon had extracted him from the vehicle during the crash or had protected him in some other fashion that he was not privy to. And as things currently stood, he didn’t have the mental reserves to even attempt to.

Despite his grievous injuries, he managed to crawl onto his knees, adrenaline and terror doing most of the leg work. He couldn’t stand, but he also couldn’t just lay there. He had to try to get up. He had to.

Agreus stood before him, regarding him in silence for a moment. The less sophisticated chains that had bound his feet were gone, but the others remained. It seemed that they’d done the trick, at least by some measure. 

He continued to loom over him, his breathing even and undisturbed as though he hadn’t just been participating in a vicious blood-soaked battle to the death mere seconds ago. He seemed to stare into his very soul before turning his attention to his demon pet. Was he going to order it to… 

Kayro felt his blood run cold as he pictured what the creature had just done to the car, resolving then and there to do what he could to stop the summoner before he got any bright ideas. And as unsure as he was that he’d be of any use in his current state, he knew that he had to try. If there was a chance that he might be able to get out of here alive- that he might be able to save his companions- he had to take it.

Reaching out with what little strength he had left in him, he reached out and tried to sense what the summoner was feeling. Perhaps he could calm him or otherwise put him at ease. Placate him and convince him to back down. Should he be able to utilize his emotional influence against him, he just might stand a chance. He had to at least distract him. He couldn’t stand -or kneel- idly by and watch him kill his entire team, even if he wasn’t armed and had no way of physically stopping him. He might not be a fighter by any means, but it just wasn’t who he was. He had to do something. He had to try.

But as their minds touched, Kayro felt what little blood was left in him run colder than the river adjacent to him. There was nothing to influence there. No conscious. No emotion. Agreus felt no fury, no trepidation. He expressed no hesitation. There wasn’t a single bit of humanity left in him for the adjudicator to work with. Nothing to appeal to. He was a husk of what a person was supposed to be, masquerading as a living, breathing, person. The person inside of him had died a long time ago and had been replaced by a being of single-minded purpose and curated malevolence. He was human in biology only, any semblance of a person with a soul taking a back seat to his own twisted desires.

Agreus was completely calm.

The last thing that Kayro saw was a flash of light reflecting off the demon’s hide as it quickly slithered around its master and barreled down on him, its vast, all-consuming maw wide as its hot throat blocked out the very sun, its putrid breath the only thing he could feel. He swallowed a mortified gulp of air.

And then everything went black.

(-~-)

See you in the comments! Chapter comes out on Friday the 19th of April! *Cries*

#Petrichor #AU #OC #DMC #DMC5 #DMCV #DMC 5 #DMC V #Devil May Cry #Devil May Cry 5 #Devil May Cry V #Devil May Cry AU #Devil May Cry 5 AU #DMC AU #DMC5 AU #DMC 5 AU #DMCV AU #DMC V AU #Post DMC 5 AU #Post DMC5 AU #Post DMCV AU #Post DMC V AU #Post Devil May Cry 5 AU #Post Devil May Cry V AU #My Post DMC5 AU #My Post DMC 5 AU #My Post DMCV AU #My Post DMC V AU #My Post Devil May Cry 5 AU #My Post Devil May Cry V AU

[live-the-fangirl-life]

A Starlit Swim

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn - Skinny Dipping Oneshot

Aelin shows Rowan to a lovely, secluded spot.

Written for Rowaelin Month 2021. Day 14: Skinny Dipping

Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Rowaelin Month Masterlist

Warnings: Language, Lightest NSFW

1547 words

*******

“Shh!” Aelin hissed through a giggle, too loudly to be an actual reprimand.

Rowan snorted and kept a firm grip on his girlfriend’s hand as she pulled him through the woods towards what she insisted was a nice secluded spot.

“Aelin,” he shot his free hand out to steady her waist as she stumbled over a fallen branch, before righting herself and sending a quick smile over her shoulder. “Aelin, I didn’t say anything. That was all you.”

She either didn’t hear him or chose to ignore his point as she kept leading him down a path that only she was aware of.

The soccer team at Terrasen University had just won the championships, and as a Co-Captain, Rowan was very much to thank for that. He and the team set up a bonfire down by one of the lakes to celebrate. But what originally started as the team, their significant others, and friends, soon devolved into a full-on rager the moment some idiot posted a video on Instagram. Now, the entire lake and woods a couple of miles outside campus were crawling with excited, drunk college kids who were all celebrating the victory.

Rowan had been happy standing by the large fire with Aelin leaning into him, her back pressed to his chest with his arms looped her waist and his chin resting on her head. Lorcan and Elide were next to them, standing similarly, although Elide had to stand on one of the logs in order for Lorcan’s chin to reach her hair. Fenrys danced around handing out more drinks to everybody, while Lysandra and Aedion were somewhere in the group of people dancing by the speakers. Rowan had spotted more of his teammates around and recognized a couple of faces of people from classes in the hordes of partygoers, but he was perfectly content being with his small group of friends by the fire.

Until Aelin tugged his arm, urging him to lower his head so she could whisper into his ear. She’d said she knew of a hidden spot a little further into the woods, and that they should sneak off while everyone else was distracted. He almost argued, saying he was fine right where they were, but then she turned in his arms and kissed him in a way that had every coherent thought flying out of his head. He could only grin and nod as she pulled away satisfied and grabbed his hand.

So, now, Rowan was following Aelin as she maneuvered through the trees to this supposedly special spot.

They’d walked far enough that Rowan could no longer hear the music or voices from the party.

“Aelin, where are we going?” He hissed as he nearly tripped over another tree branch.

Aelin only giggled and shushed him again. A moment later she told him, in a horrifically bad haunting accent, “I’m luring you into the woods to kill you. No one will find your body.” Her laughter decimated the fake threat.

Rolling his eyes, Rowan snickered, “Nah, you like me too much to kill me.”

She looked back, almost tripping again as she winked, “I guess.” He caught her lip twitch as she unsuccessfully fought a smile.

“You guess?” he grumbled.

Aelin stopped abruptly and Rowan nearly sent them crashing to the ground before he stopped moving. She turned to face him and the next thing he knew, she was kissing the living daylights out of him. Rowan reacted instantly, the slight haze from a couple beers making him feel even lighter. Aelin pulled away before they got too carried away and ended up rolling in the leaves and dirt.

“Okay, maybe I do like you too much to kill you.”

Rowan laughed and Aelin grinned before spinning around and resuming her mission of pulling him through the woods to wherever she was imagining.

“Seriously, Fireheart,” he asked again as the trees slowly thinned out around them. “Where are we going?”

Instead of answering, Aelin’s giggling filled the air again.

Rowan chuckled under his breath; this was three-drink Aelin escorting him, then. It hadn’t taken Rowan long to notice Aelin’s varying drunk personalities. One-drink Aelin was affectionately named The Megaphone, the buzz of alcohol making her yell and shout. Two-drink Aelin, The Instigator, believed her purpose in life was encourage their friends to act on their ridiculous, sometimes insane, plans. Three-drink Aelin, this Aelin, was The Giggler because for whatever reason she found everything absolutely hilarious.

Rowan was also familiar with four-drink Aelin: The Horndog, who wouldn’t be dissuaded by a party full of people when she’d straddle his lap and practically jump him right there on the spot. Or, five-drink Aelin: The Francophone who gave up all use of their language and spoke solely in French. He wasn’t sure what six-drink Aelin was like—none of their friends were—but once, Rowan had witnessed seven-drink Aelin, forever deemed The Queen, because she’d insisted everyone call her Your Majesty and Queen Galathynius (Lorcan had quickly dubbed her Fire Breathing Bitch Queen much to her utter delight) and, just Rowan: Milady.

Aelin giggled again as she swayed trying to duck beneath a branch and Rowan gripped her hand tighter as he reached above her to push the leaves aside. It took him a second to take in what he was looking at. Aelin had led him to the edge of a small lake hidden within the forest. The sky was visible through the small openings between branches that stretched across the width of the lake, allowing Rowan to see the stars that were normally invisible by the lights of the city.

“How…” he trailed off, facing Aelin again to see her watching him with a rare, tentative expression.

“What do you think?” She asked hopefully.

Rowan stepped closer to her, pulling her into his arms. “Its beautiful, Fireheart. How did you ever find this place?”

She smirked and giggled again. “Magic.”

He raised a brow, amused, and waited.

Aelin sighed dramatically and tipped her head back, “Fine, Buzzard, if you want the boring answer it’s that I was out on a run one day and got distracted and lost and accidentally stumbled onto this place. It doesn’t look like anyone else comes here. Not that I’ve noticed, anyway.”

Rowan’s grip tightened around her waist, pulling her against him and grinning at her breathless gasp. Leaning down so his nose brushed her ear, he asked, “No one?”

She pulled back and flashed him a wicked grin. “Nope. You know what that means right?”

When all Rowan did was return her grin, she slipped out of his arms and stepped closer to the edge of the water. Aelin held his gaze, winking again, and she slowly lifted her shirt and tossed it aside.

Rowan crossed his arms, leaning against a nearby tree and smirked, content to watch the show his girlfriend was giving him. His gaze never left hers as she reached down to unbutton her jeans before rolling those down and throwing them into the pile with her shirt.

When she was standing there in just her underwear and bra she paused, raising a brow at Rowan.

“Well are you going to join me, Buzzard? Or are you just going to watch?” Her smirk told him there was only one right answer.

He slowly stalked towards her, his eyes darkening as she bit her lip while she watched him. When they were almost chest to chest, he gripped the back of his collar and pulled his shirt over his head, smirking at the way Aelin eyes roamed across his bare chest.

Once his pants were off, he grabbed her hand and made to lead her towards the water. Aelin followed without hesitation, only stopping once her feet hit the water.

“What?” Rowan asked, wading into the pleasantly warm lake and raising an eyebrow at his girlfriend still standing on the bank. “I thought you wanted to swim.”

She smirked, her eyes glinting in the reflected starlight. “Not exactly.”

Before he could ask what she meant, Aelin’s hand flew behind her to unclasp her bra, quickly pulling it off before slipping her underwear down her and throwing them into their growing pile of clothes.

Rowan practically growled as Aelin strutted into the water without a shred of clothing. Before she even reached him, Aelin watched as Rowan tossed his sopping wet briefs across the water and heard them land with a slap on the dry rocks.

When she got close enough, Rowan’s hand wrapped around her wrist and then her waist to pull her body flush with his. Aelin wove her wet fingers through his hair and wrapped her legs around his waist as their lips came together in a fierce kiss.

After a few minutes they pulled away, breathing heavily, and savoring the feeling of swollen lips and the other’s arms wrapped around them.

“Have you ever been skinny dipping before?” Aelin asked coyly, looking at Rowan through her eyelashes.

He ran a broad hand down her back, “Can’t say I have.”

She grinned, already having known his answer. “Then allow me to show you how fun it can be.”

By the time Aelin and Rowan meandered out of the woods, the hazy light of morning was just peeking through the trees.

*****

Taglist:

@acourtofsnakes @allthebooksunderthemoon @astra-ad-mare @becarefuloflove @booklover41802 @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @danibutterr @doubt-less @emily-gsh @enormousbooklover @foughtconquered @fromthelibraryofemilyj @hakunamatatazz @i-have-but-one-brain-cell @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jorjy-jo @lemonade-coolattas @mariamuses @mayhemories @midsizewitch @miserablesmusings @morganofthewildfire @nehemikkele @rowaelinismyotp @rowansfirebringer @sayosdreams @sheharahu @sleeping-and-books @stardelia @story-scribbler @superspiritfestival @surielandiareendgame @swankii-art-teacher @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading @moodymelanist @angelic-voice-1997 @realbookloverproblems @gracie-rosee @julemmaes @yesdreamblog @the-regal-warrior @rowanaelinn @thestoriesyoutell @autumnbabylon @sunflowermoonshinewrites @maastrash

#rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #rowaelin month #aelin #Rowan #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #aelin and rowan #rowan and aelin #aelin galathynius x rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fluff #rowaelin fic #rowaelin Oneshot #skinny dipping #throne of glass #tog

[jaehyunfirstlove]

Hey as a 1k mile stone request how, about that stuck on an island one that someone had previously mentioned. the possibilities are endless and I know only you could do it justice 👀👀👀

Pairing: stranger!jaehyun x f.reader

Genre: e2l, smut (18+ only)

Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, bulge kink

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: so i got carried away with this one lol! hope you like it anyway, and thank you for sending it in :)

Your week at your friend’s timeshare was coming to an end, and you definitely weren’t looking forward to it. The week of solitary bliss had been the perfect cure for the stressful quarter you’d had at work, and as you packed up your things you stared longingly out at the palm trees swaying in the ocean breeze.

You brought your luggage down to the dock to wait for the boat to come and take you back to the mainland, and noticed another person waiting. Your friend had assured you that you were the only person staying at her timeshare, and indeed you hadn’t seen anyone else in the entire week you were there, so where this person came from you didn’t know.

“Hello,” you greeted him politely. He barely turned his head to look at you, and with dark sunglasses on you couldn’t see his eyes. He just nodded, then turned back to stare out at the water. You had no idea what his deal was, but you did not appreciate his rudeness.

“Are you waiting for the five o’clock pickup too?” you tried again, making your voice louder and firmer. He didn’t even turn to you this time, just looked at his watch.

“It’s late,” was all he said, still staring out at the water.

Indeed he was right, the boat was expected five minutes ago, but you still bristled at his brusqueness. “Um, I don’t mean to be rude, but where did you come from? I thought I was the only one staying on this island.”

He laughed. “You think you’re the only one who’s allowed to be on this island?”

“I did not say I thought I was the only one allowed to stay on the island, I just thought my friend’s timeshare was the only one here.” His attitude was really grating on you, and at the irritated tone in your voice he finally turned to you.

“Well, it’s not. Mine is on the other side of the island.”

You were taken aback, not realizing there was another timeshare on the island at all. “Oh, sorry, I had no idea. My friend didn’t tell me there was another one.”

“That’s obvious. Maybe if you’d known you wouldn’t have left your garbage all over the island.”

You felt heat rise in your face at being wrongfully accused. “I did not leave my garbage all over the island, so I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“If you’re the only other person on this island, and it wasn’t me, then it was definitely you!”

“How do you know it wasn’t you?!”

“I know because I can clean up after myself!”

Your argument was interrupted by his phone ringing. Sighing loudly, he answered it while you silently fumed, waiting for him to end the call so you could yell at him some more. But when he ended the call, he took off his sunglasses and turned to you.

“Looks like we’re stuck here for a bit longer,” he said, worrying his lip as he ran a hand through his hair.

“You’re kidding me,” you said in disbelief. You thought he was toying with you and being an ass, but then your phone rang and you got the same message. A storm had built up on the mainland and no boats could leave, but they promised to send one out as soon as the storm passed. You asked how long that would be, but all they could say was that it could be anywhere from a few hours, to a few days.

“Oh for crying out loud!” you complained, knowing you would miss your connecting flight. The man you’d been talking to suddenly got up, grabbed his pack, and started walking back towards the main road. “Hey! Where are you going?” you called to him, “shouldn’t we wait here?”

He shrugged as he walked, not turning to look back at you. “It could take hours, even days. I’d rather wait somewhere more comfortable.”

You huffed, hating that he was right, because the more you thought about it, the more you didn’t want to have to wait at the dock under the burning sun, with no shade in sight. Except that you looked at the sky, and it had suddenly started darkening. The weather from the mainland seemed to be headed your way, so you decided it was probably best to get indoors.

You caught up to the man at the main road, because he had stopped and was standing there, looking up at the sky.

“Looks like this storm is gonna hit us soon,” he said, checking the weather app on his phone, “and it’s a big one.”

You looked in the distance and the clouds were indeed menacing, the sky almost as dark as night. You’d experienced storms like this on the island before, and you knew they weren’t the kind you’d want to be caught in.

“Listen, my timeshare is just around the bend there, if we hurry we should make it,” you suggested. You didn’t relish spending time alone with this grumpy stranger, but at the same time you weren’t cruel enough to leave him outside during a wicked storm.

He paused, thought about it, then nodded. “We need to hurry then, it’s right on top of us.”

Sure enough, you’d only walked a few feet before you felt the first drops of rain. Before you knew it, the rain was coming down in sheets, the water level rising at your feet, and visibility so poor you could barely see your hand in front of your face.

“It’s no good,” you heard the man say from somewhere to your left, “we better find shelter.”

“No, no, we’ll make it,” you insisted, not wanting to stay out in this weather any longer. Except that you could barely move one foot in front of the other, your feet sloshing uselessly in the muddy water.

“Forget it! We can barely see where we’re going!” he yelled as the rain came down harder, “there was a rock outcropping a few feet back, let’s make for that.”

You didn’t want to listen to him, didn’t want to admit that he was right, and you thought about going ahead on your own, but the thought of getting lost and having no one around to find you was too daunting. “Fine, let’s go,” you begrudgingly agreed.

“Come on,” he said, taking you by the hand. You recoiled, pulling your hand back.

“What are you doing?!” you yelled over the patter of the rain, getting louder now.

“Relax, princess, I’m just making sure we stay together.”

You relented then, letting him take your hand. “Fine. But my name’s Y/N, not ‘princess’.”

“Wish we met under better circumstances, Y/N. I’m Jaehyun, by the way.”

You grumbled a hello, but you had to admit, his steadying hand definitely helped you navigate the treacherously slippery road. Once he determined you were in the right spot, he pointed towards a grayish smudge past the treeline.

“That’s where we’re headed, but be careful where you step it might be-”

You had opted to ignore him and surged forward, only that the accumulated water had obscured how deep the ground was in that spot, and you pitched forward, splashing into the water as you lost your balance.

“-deep.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” you cursed, and even over the loud drumming of the rain you could hear Jaehyun laughing.

“Come on, princess, don’t stay down too long,” he chuckled, grabbing a hold of your arm and hauling you up. Once you were in a stable standing position, you yanked your arm out of his grasp.

“I can manage on my own!” you yelled, “and stop calling me ‘princess’!”

“I really don’t think you can,” he shot back, “and I only call them as I see them.”

You seethed the rest of the way to the outcropping, but once you got there you breathed a sigh of relief. It was a serviceable cave, probably the size of a two person tent, but the most important thing was that it was dry. You dropped to your knees onto the cool stone floor, relieved to be out of the rain.

“You should take your clothes off,” Jaehyun stated matter-of-factly, dropping his pack in one corner of the cave.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m gonna build a fire so we can get warm. You’re positively soaked and you’ll get sick if you stay in those wet clothes.” He started to rifle through his pack, pulling out some matches.

You watched him curiously, but still made no move to do what he said. “What are you, a boy scout or something?”

He just smiled, as he went around the cave collecting dry branches. “Never hurts to be prepared.”

“Fucking boy scout,” you mumbled under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” you shook your head, then took one look at him, narrowing your eyes, “you’re wet too, why don’t you take off your clothes?”

He looked up at you, after managing to get a small fire started. “Suit yourself,” he shrugged, then started peeling off his shirt, followed by his shorts, and once he got to the waistband of his boxers you stopped him.

“Wait, wait, I was only joking!” you held up your hands nervously, your heart starting to beat faster. You couldn’t help but admire his build, his wet skin glistening in the light of the fire.

“Listen, I don’t want to have to take care of a sick person, so take off your clothes and get over here.” He held out his arms.

“What- why- do I have to-”

“Body heat is the quickest way to warm up but it’s faster if it’s skin-on-skin, so take off your clothes and come here.” He spoke to you like he was speaking to a child, and you would’ve been offended except you were too busy trying to calm your heart at the prospect of cuddling with a complete stranger, albeit a very attractive one, you suddenly noticed.

You briefly thought about just dying of mortification, but your survival instinct kicked in instead, and despite your reservations you found yourself doing what he said. He had the good grace to turn his head while you stripped, and it was only when he pulled a small blanket out of his pack and handed it to you did he turn around.

“Come by the fire,” he said, pulling you to lie down with him. He wrapped his arms around you and you held your breath, the feeling of his arms foreign but not unwelcome. You pulled the blanket over the both of you, and you had to admit the heat of his body was warming you up very nicely. So nicely in fact, that you couldn’t help the heat that was building up inside of you.

“Isn’t this nice?” he asked cheekily, and his breath hot against your ear made you shiver involuntarily. He assumed it meant you were cold, so he wrapped his arms even tighter around you. You let out a small squeak as you got more aroused, rubbing your thighs together.

“You okay?” he asked, but the tone of his voice had changed. It was lower, raspier, and now as your outsides dried, your insides got wetter.

“Yes,” you lied, but the arousal you were feeling couldn’t be contained. You wiggled your hips tentatively against him, and you heard him hiss behind you.

“Don’t do that, princess,” he warned, “or you’ll get something you won’t expect.”

“What if… what if I wanted it?”

He paused for a very long time, and you took it as a rejection, except that his hand started to roam downwards. “Do you really want it?” he asked, voice husky.

You nodded, taking his hand and placing it between your legs. He cupped your sex, and you inhaled sharply as he kept his hand there.

“I have to warn you, princess,” he said, sliding his fingers along your slit, “I don’t go easy, even on spoiled little princesses like you.”

You were already falling apart but his words made you even wetter.

“You liked that, didn’t you princess, you’re fucking gushing.” He pushed his fingers in even further, and you knew you were drenching them in your juices.

“Oh fuck, Jaehyun, I’m gonna come,” you gasped, your body shuddering as he pressed his fingers hard against your g-spot. He pulled his fingers out when you were done, licking them clean, before he turned you onto your back.

“That was sexy, princess,” he smirked, then he pushed your legs apart with his knee, settling his body between them. He hovered over you, not touching you at all, and you found yourself aching for his touch. He smiled at your neediness, how your lips parted slightly, your brow furrowed, your hands shaking restlessly at your sides.

“Jaehyun, please,” you whined, unashamed at how desperate you sounded.

“Are you begging, princess?” he was still smirking, and you really wanted to wipe that smug look off his face, but you wanted him to fuck you more.

“Yes I’m begging, just fuck me,” you whined, grabbing a hold of his forearms.

“As you wish,” he said, leaning down until the tip of his cock touched your wet pussy. A scream died in your throat as he pushed in, stretching you so deliciously you gripped his forearms with such force you probably left imprints of your fingers there.

“Fuck, so tight,” he groaned, his wet hair falling into his eyes as he started to pound you. The heat you were feeling was so intense now, the fire beside you definitely adding to it, but it was the way he moved his hips against you, the way his cock was hitting you exactly where you needed that made you lose your mind.

“Oh Jaehyun, oh fuck, oh my god,” you scratched up his arms, scratched up his back like a cat but you couldn’t help it, unable to contain the delirious pleasure he was giving you. You were falling apart, rapidly reaching your end.

“Are you gonna come for me, princess,” he breathed, bringing his hand up to pinch a nipple. You couldn’t answer him, couldn’t make a noise as your back arched off the stone floor, your orgasm rippling through you in a shuddering wave.

“Oh my fucking god,” you whispered, when you got your breath back. He just smiled, leaning down to kiss your neck.

“I’ll give you a moment to catch your breath,” he whispered, between sucking marks on your neck, “but I’m not finished with you.”

He was still hard inside you, not having come yet, and once your breathing evened out he yanked your legs up over his shoulders and started drilling into you again.

You moaned loudly, your voice increasing in pitch, drowning out the driving rain outside. The new position drove him so deep inside you that you put your hand down to your lower stomach, feeling him hit there.

“Can you feel me there, baby,” he groaned, watching as you pressed your hand against your stomach. “Fuck, you take me so well, such a good little princess for me.”

You fell apart then, hitting your high when he thrust in particularly hard, finally releasing a choked cry. He managed a few more hard thrusts before he was spilling into you, your pussy milking him till he was spent. He released your legs, breathing heavily, before he tucked his face into your neck, nuzzling lightly.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft now, the change in his demeanor so striking it made your head spin. You could only nod, biting your lip, and that action drew his attention to your mouth. He kissed you then, soft and gentle, held you in his arms as the rain continued to fall.

The next morning you woke to a bright sun, and your phone ringing. The storm had passed and they could send a boat out now. Watching Jaehyun sleep peacefully, his bare chest rising and falling, you told them you weren’t quite ready for a pickup yet, and that you would call back.

How long? They had asked, and you had smiled, brushing a lock of hair away from his face.

Oh, maybe a few days.

---

Thank you for 1k!

#jaehyun imagines #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun smut #nct imagines #nct smut

[midearthwritings]

The reason we get along

No matter how serious the task is, there is always someone to joke around.

Words Count : 1,026

Pairing : Kíli & Reader

Warning : None

Author's Note : Requested by @dark-angel-is-back . I changed the plot a teeny tiny bit, hope you still like it!

It was a dream common to all beings to travel and see the world, in your opinion. It had been a great honor to be asked along on a quest that would help fulfill this dream. And greater honor to explore this unknown lands alongside the King Under the Mountain, in order to help him regain his long lost Kingdom. The path to the end of your journey was still long, it was no doubt. You had still many things left to see and many people yet to meet. You knew that when you would go back home—if— you would be a different person. Stronger and wiser, awakened.

But on a quest as serious and important as the one of reclaiming The Lonely Mountain, there was only so much time left for fun. And, far from you the idea of complaining, really, your mother hadn't raised you to be ungrateful. You just wished to see a smile on your companions' faces from time to time. Or, at least, not have them looking so serious and moody at all times.

And this was how, one day, you decided to make it a personal mission of bringing a little bit of joy in this adventure.

For days, you kept thinking of a way to give everyone a good laugh. Oh you had had many ideas, such as starting a food fight or pouring some water on someone's head when they didn't expect it. But you quickly chased them away when you realized the only outcome would be Thorin's wrath. And being lectured about how precious food was or how someone was going to get sick wasn't something you particularly wanted. Much less if it was by the King.

You had pretty much given up your wicked plan when one day, an opportunity presented itself to you.

As the company was setting camp for a well earned rest day, and you were ruminating alone in a corner about not being able to pull a smile out of them, you saw it. Him. The dwarf was coming back from fetching wood for the fire with his brother, and he was happily chatting. Kíli always looked so happy. And he was a good friend, really. The chances of offending him were weak. So, as the prince turned his back to your and bent down to get rid of the stack of branches his arms were busy with, you didn't think twice. Like a predator attacking its prey, you bolted towards him. In a swift movement, your fingers hooked in the hem of his breeches and pulled them all the way down to his ankles.

When you pulled back, everybody was quiet. The heaviness of the atmosphere made you doubt it all. And the way Kíli stood there, not saying anything, was terrifying. Perhaps you had been wrong and you just had disrespected the dwarf. After all, he was of royal blood.

The thought of running away from this situation crossed your mind when a loud snicker reached your ears.

"Well, it looks like you have lost something, brother."

Fíli's comment was soon followed by Dwalin's roaring laughter and you finally breathed—a breathe you didn't know you were holding. And one by one, every member of the company started to laugh, or at least let out an amused huff. Even Thorin.

The cacophony only grew louder when Kíli quickly pulled his garment back up, almost tripping.

It was refreshing, really, to see their faces so relaxed and hear the music of their joy. Happiness looked good on them.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice as your friend came closer to you. Dangerously closer, a grin painted on his face. Before you knew what was happening, you felt your back hitting the ground beneath you, Kíli's body holding your legs down firmly. Your eyes locked with his and you saw it, the glint of mischief the others always talked about.

"You better apologize, or I will make you regret your actions."

You raised your eyebrow at his playful threat and crossed your arms on your chest.

"And how so?" You asked defiantly. "By investing in a belt? I believe it would serve you well."

That's when it came. The sweet cramps in your middle. The pleasant torture of your friend tickling you. Instinctively, you tried to kick him away with your legs, but his weight kept them in place. Instead, you slapped his chest, in an attempt to make him retreat.

"Brother," he adressed Fíli, his eyes still on you. "Will you please give me your help?"

"As you asked so nicely."

All too soon, strong hands grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, and the predator became the prey. You were at Kíli's mercy. You looked up to the blonde dwarf and mouthed the word traitor, with some trouble due to his brother's ministrations on your body.

"Do you yield?"

The archer's question was simple, and it required a very simple answer. But the wiggling fingers between your ribs made it impossible to utter a single word. The only thing you could do was shake your head as you desperately gasped for air.

"Very well." He declared.

You barely had time to see the smile on his face growing bigger before his digits dug deeper into your sides. It was painful, deliciously painful. Your head was thrown back, your neck exposed as you laughed loud enough to make your lungs explode. Your nails were biting into Fíli's clothes, your feet kicking at the ground behind Kíli.

"Alright! I surrender!"

As you desperately cried out the words, the dwarves' hands left your body and you were left lying down, trying to catch your breathe.

Kíli offered you his hand and you happily grabbed it. He helped you back up on your feet, as you still giggled from the sensations.

"Next time," Kíli spoke up. "I'm not stopping until you are begging me to."

He winked at you, and once again, the three of you barked in laughter.

And if you found yourself, a few days later, with your own breeches down your legs, well, it was only fair. Wasn't it?

#the hobbit #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit reader insert #kili x y/n #kili x you #kili imagine #kili x reader #kili son of dis

[whatifxwereyou]

The Oncoming Storm Part 23: Flesh and Bone

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

You find the springs- and it exceeds your expectations but perhaps not in the way you had hoped it would. Something wicked is unfolding.

A/N: I'm going out of town tomorrow but I will do my best to get back to replies as often as I can! Your feedback gives me life <3 I'll be back on Tuesday. You guys probably won't even notice I'm gone, since I've somehow managed to miraculously write enough to cover the space where I won't be around! I'm going to see my family for the first time since the pandemic ;___; !!

Part 22 Part 24 Chapter Index

You drew closer to the wave of clouds above you, and it wasn’t long until you were engulfed by them. It was like the most intense fog you’d ever been in. You had scoured the cliffside for caves along the way but found nothing of note. You stopped walking once you were completely surrounded by the clouds and had long since let go of Liu Kang’s hand.

There was that feeling again. As though you had been lost in this fog before and yet you had never been there. It made you dizzy and you lost sight of Liu in the fog. You could see that man from your vision, walking in front of you, then to the left of you, then to the right. Your head spun and when you closed your eyes, you felt lost. But you weren’t. You knew this place even if you’d never been there. The vision in your head knew it.

You turned and the clouds felt misty on your skin. It was as if you had lost your body and were watching yourself walk through the fog blindly in search of something you weren’t sure that you wanted to find. Then suddenly, very suddenly, as if you were being pulled out of a dream, Liu Kang stood in front of you. Your body was yours again. His right hand was bathed in fire and the shadows it cast on his face were haunting and beautiful.

“Wake up, Y/N.”

He urged his hand to your arm and forced you to look at him. You gasped, your lungs having once again forbidden you air. You closed your eyes tight to shake off the feeling and then searched around you. It was too foggy to tell how far you’d gone but you had the distinct feeling that it hadn’t been very far at all. Liu’s relief was palpable and with a wave of his hand the fire was gone, leaving you in the cold mist of the clouds.

His grip was tight on your arm, as if he were worried that you would walk off again. You caught your breath, chest aching with the lack of it, and knit your brow. “How… how did you know?”

“I just knew.” The concern on his face was valid but the admiration was unexpected. “You’re like flickering lamplight, Y/N. The shadows cast by my flame. I know when you’re not there.” Your tongue was suddenly far too big for your mouth and your heart hurt. You should have kissed him. That was the most romantic thing you had ever heard in your whole damn life. But your chest was aching and your hands were trembling with the fear of losing control of your body. “Do you think that you could lead us using your vision? If it’s taking control of you like that then it clearly wants us to go somewhere.”

“I’m… I can try but I’m afraid.” You were still struggling with air and words. “I don’t know if it’s a good thing it’s leading us. I walked off on Kung Lao and nearly drowned myself yesterday when my vision took over.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. I won’t let go of your hand.” He let his hand move from your arm and down to your fingertips. He leaned closer and whispered. “Trust yourself as much as you trust me.” He stepped back, still holding your hand. You had to try. He was right. If you trusted your gut and it went horribly wrong then Liu would make sure you didn’t jump off a cliff. He was staring back at you, completely relaxed. He trusted you. You could feel it. How could you have ever doubted that? You weren’t sure where to begin but you started with turning off your inner critic. You were unsteady on your feet, unsure of yourself.

“Are you okay?” You couldn’t help but ask. He took both of your hands and walked backwards in front of you which you felt like was a mistake.

“Keep going, Y/N. I trust you. Close your eyes and follow your vision. I will make sure that we’re safe.”

“I…”

“Trust yourself, Y/N.”

You didn’t, that was clear to you both. With a deep exhale, you closed your eyes and then walked. When you walked, Liu walked. You led him blindly along the path through the clouds. The more you walked without plummeting to your deaths, the more confident you felt. And you were in control, which was nice. You walked until he stopped suddenly in front of you, as if he’d run into something. You stumbled into him, letting go of one of his hands to catch the stone behind him, body pressed against his. Eyes fluttering open, Liu let go of your other hand and instead rested both against the sides of your neck. Despite their warmth, they gave you chills.

His thumb brushed over the bruised skin on your neck, other hand gently caressing its way up to your cheek, thumb just beneath your eye. His hands were callused and strong, still somehow soft, controlled just like the rest of him. He had this way of drinking you in, of making you feel like you were something precious and special. You got goosebumps. The pitter-patter of your heart was betraying you, pressed against him like this and it was warranted for more reasons than you could count. The most important of those reasons was Liu Kang.

“You did it,” he whispered but his eyes were on your lips.

“I found it.” You smiled in realization and got the chills. That was a wonderful feeling. It was the first time in ages where you’d trusted your gut and it hadn’t wound up in a complete mess. Without thinking you buried yourself against Liu’s chest, hands gripping at his shirt. You closed your eyes tight and took deep calming breaths.

Don’t get upset.

Don’t cry in front of Liu Kang even if they were happy tears. It had been so long since you’d felt that good.

“What? What is it?” He could sense that you were trying not to get upset and he tucked your hair behind your ear, fixing the flower that had come loose.

“Nothing. I’m just happy.”

“Okay…?”

You lifted yourself from his chest and straightened your posture, but you were hopelessly pressed against him. “So much of these last few weeks with healing and my arcana and the visions… it’s felt like such failure. I’m trying so damn hard and still it seems impossible. One thing after another keeps going wrong and I’m just so grateful to have something work out.”

“Y/N, just because it doesn’t work out how you expect it to, doesn’t mean it’s a failure. You’re learning. Please… be kind to yourself. The shadow hanging over you isn’t any fault of yours. From where I’m standing? You’re doing well.”

God, he was the cutest. So damn sweet. “Thank you, Liu. Thank you for grounding me too. I needed it.”

“Don’t credit me with that. You grounded yourself, Y/N. I just reminded you how to breathe.” He gently took one of your hands from where it was balled up in his shirt and held it in his.

“It’s funny. Sometimes I feel like my brain is such swirling chaos that I’m going to float away, like a leaf on the wind. You have this way of bringing me back and keeping me firmly rooted to the branch.”

“I’m happy to make sure that you don’t float too far for too long if you need me to.” Liu let go of your hand and turned his gaze to his left. His smile faded.

“What? What is it?” You touched his face this time, fingers gently brushing over his cheekbones that curved so perfectly when he smiled. You’d never done that before. He was so handsome that it felt forbidden to touch him.

“Now is not the time. Later. I promise. We have things to do.”

“Yeah. The cave.” You nodded to your right. You hadn’t seen the cavern yet but you knew it was there. He offered a nod to agree.

“Raiden theorizes that these places are protected and changed by the magic that the man from your vision used. He considered that the artifacts could be toxic. The dotaku you found was probably tainted with evil intent in some way.”

“Great, because I had that thing pressed all up against me for way too long.” You frowned. “The monks there said something about it being cursed, too.”

“You seem fine other than the bruises. And the anxiety but I don’t know if that’s related.”

“Tangentially so.” You smiled but then frowned. Kung Lao had been pale that morning. You hoped that he was taking care of himself. “Let’s get this over with.” You stepped away from him, realizing you had essentially pinned him to the wall. He reached into his pockets and pulled out two keychain sized flashlights. He offered one to you and you took it with a smile. “I’m glad one of us was prepared to go into a cave.”

“It was a last-minute purchase.” He admitted with a shrug. The cavern opening, now that you saw it, was not inviting. You never would have found it without your vision. It was less like a cave mouth and more like a fissure. You’d have to stand sideways and scoot inside which was incredibly unappealing. You had to do it though, you reminded yourself.

So, against every instinct in your body, you pressed yourself between the stone walls and scooted. It was uncomfortably tight and you’d had to adjust several times to make it through. If you’d told yourself months ago that you would be doing this then you would have never believed yourself. Liu was right behind you and you helped each other through difficult spaces. Finally, the fissure opened up and you gasped at what lay beyond the tight opening. The air was so humid it was difficult to breathe and there were pools of water glimmering with bioluminescent light. Usually, you would have thought it was beautiful but there was something inherently sinister about it.

The air was foreboding. Liu joined you at your side as you studied the cave that went back into the darkness far beyond your tiny flashlights.

“It’s like the exact opposite of the springs back in the temple.”

“Something dark has corrupted it.” He frowned then walked right into the water like it was nothing. At its deepest point it was up to his thighs.

“You just jump right into that probably cursed water, huh?”

“Yes, and you should join me. I have a feeling that it’s going to be quite a walk and the only way through is in the water.”

“You’re probably right. Is this the opposite of holy water, you think?” You joined him and he offered a shake of his head at your bad joke. You trudged together through the water, following the only path there was to take. You lit your way with the tiny flashlights but even combined it didn’t do much for you. The bioluminescent plant life growing in the pools helped you at least find your path and you were sure if you needed to then Liu would use his fire. It was eerie. In the distance, there was the sound of falling water and it grew ever louder as you approached.

You finally pinpointed what the bad feeling was. It was like you weren’t supposed to be there, and the cave wanted you out. You knew that this was where you were meant to be and whatever wanted you out was that artifact.

“Careful.” You gestured to another fissure in front of you but this one was half full of water. It went on longer than the first one had, and you’d briefly panicked halfway through. Liu had helped you and then you had helped him when he’d gotten stuck at the end. It didn’t get any better after that. The next fissure was lower, and the water was up to his shoulders which meant you had to swim and squeeze your way through.

“Just hold your breath.” He encouraged and you looked to him skeptically but did your best. The water got down your throat a few times as it splashed around your face, but you managed your way through it. Liu continued right behind you, and it was made much more difficult when the path shrunk at the end. He’d nearly gotten stuck. That would have been a disaster. That cavern was low, and the water was so high you had to swim. The sound of water falling was no longer distant but very close. You searched the small corridor with your flashlight, but it was flickering after being submerged in the water. “Where do we go?” He searched above the water but there was barely any space above you.

“You’re going to hate it.” You pointed with an unhappy groan at the cavern beneath the water, completely submerged. This was a nightmare.

“You’re right, I do.” He shook out his wet hair. You ducked beneath the water, allowed your eyes to adjust to the warmth of it and cringed. It was uncomfortable. The springs in your vision had been small and modest. It was like they’d spread like cancer throughout the cavern thanks to that man and whatever artifact he’d hidden there. Then you came back up and turned to him. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, Y/N.”

You ducked beneath the water again, held your breath, and then made your way through the tunnel as quickly and carefully as your body would allow. Just as you thought your lungs would give out, you found a space at the very top of the tunnel that was above the water. It was barely enough for you to tilt your head up and regain your breath but it was more than you needed.

Then you ducked under again and were grateful when the cave opened up and you could bring your head above water into a much, much larger space. The water was way deeper there too and you gasped greedily for breath. Then you turned and waited for Liu Kang to follow you. Seconds later, he popped up next to you, also gasping for breath.

The cavern was huge and you found the source of the rushing water. It poured from an opening above that led to the mountain outside. You caught a glimpse of a tree beyond, but just barely. Water poured from a river from the precipice and down onto two other ledges in between before ultimately falling into the pool that you and Liu had emerged in. There was dry land on either side of the deep pool and you were looking forward to it. Never again if you could avoid it.

Liu reached for your hair to push it back and looked disappointed to find that the flower had gone. You searched the water for it and sighed. You’d forgotten it was there. “Sorry.” You pouted and he smiled anyway. The air in the chamber was heavy and you were set on edge, like something terrible could happen at any moment. Liu was moving toward the shallower water and talking but you couldn’t hear him. There was a high-pitched squeal in your ears.

Liu called to you, but his voice was distant and fading. You couldn’t quite remember why he would be with you or where you were or what you were doing. You turned in search of him, but he was gone.

You were alone and made your way to the shallower water, crawling out just enough so it was up to your thighs. When you turned back, there was a man standing before you. It was him. The creature from your vision and you saw him plain as day. His skin was gray and mysterious patterns shifted beneath the surface, his white eyes surrounded by red flesh, as if he had never slept a day in his life. He wore a hat that fit to the form of his head and curved up into horns. When you blinked, he was standing uncomfortably close in front of you, and you stumbled back. He sneered and the flesh melted from his face, revealing the fanged skull beneath it.

“Who are…” You tried to ask but you choked on your words as his hand plunged into your chest, tearing at your flesh like it was nothing. Pain radiated through your shoulders, down your stomach, and you were blinded by it. You would have collapsed if he had not been holding you in his death grip. His cold fingers wrapped around your heart and you saw your blood ooze down his arm and drench your shirt.

He was killing you.

You were dying.

When you looked back up at him, he was gone but the pain remained. You collapsed into the water, the ground disappearing from beneath your feet as though you had never step foot upon it. You couldn’t breathe.

But you could hear again. The ringing had stopped, and you could hear combat above the water. Through it, you could see the light of Liu’s arcana as he fought off many creatures you couldn’t make out from there. He was trying to get to you but the shapes were overwhelming him. You watched, as if in slow motion, as one of those shapes burned up. Then he was thrown back into the water with a splash and the fire was doused with a hiss of steam.

You panic-swam to the surface. Liu was being held beneath the water by skeletal creatures in tattered robes and tarnished jewelry. They were pulling him further into the deep pool. You grasped at your chest suddenly and discovered there was no wound. It had been an illusion or a vision or something.

There was no time. You had to get to Liu.

You bashed the creature aside that had been pushing him under but there were others pulling him further and further. Taking a deep breath, you dove into the water and willed your ink into your jian. You hadn’t been certain it would work under the water but were pleased to find that it was solid. You slashed one of the creatures to pieces and swam out of the way of another. Then you knocked the one holding Liu away.

He was struggling to keep his breath, hand grasped over his mouth. You pushed his hand aside and pressed your lips to his, offering him the little breath you had left. Then you urged your arm under his and helped kick to the surface. You both gasped for breath, and he coughed up water. You urged him back behind you, defending you both with the jian so he had a chance to regain himself and get to dry land.

The moment he had his footing, he grasped at the natural energy around him and bathed his fists in fire. He twisted and threw the flames and several of the skeletal creatures stumbling toward you burned up. But they didn’t stay down for long. Either they rebuilt themselves or there were tons of them. You twisted with your jian, ducking, and slicing at them as they drew closer, finishing them off when Liu’s fire didn’t.

“This isn’t working!” He coughed as more of them crawled out of the water toward you.

“There’s too many.” You backed up to join him on the small shoreline. If these things kept crawling back to life, then you would be at this until you were exhausted and one of you slipped up. You had to do something drastic. You’d mimicked Kung Lao in Japan but you hadn’t been sure how you’d done it. Could you mimic other things? “You thought that my arcana could mimic things, right?”

“Yeah, you mimicked my hand when you first showed me. Haven’t had much time to train, have we?”

“Could you keep me safe while I try something?”

“Of course.” Liu stepped in front of you and, fists still engulfed in flame, and went after the creatures as they came close. Watching him fight was amazing. It was almost like a dance. Stepping back to offer him more space to fight, you worked with your ink magic. You’d been able to draw with it when you’d been fighting against the tar creature in Japan so why not try that?

Bracing yourself for the energy it would take, you focused on the creatures as they fell beneath Liu’s skilled hands. He stepped back from them and bounced in ready position, extinguishing his fire. You focused only on the space and your ink, your will to make it. Your mind cleared of all other thoughts. Liu stepped back in surprise as you drew solid walls around the creatures, and they filled with ink. Then you slammed your hands together and the walls crushed the creatures trapped within. You felt the crash of those walls rattle through your arms and into your shoulders.

“Damn.” Liu turned to you with admiration. You relaxed your posture but didn’t get to do so for long. Water exploded in a fountain and rained down over you. A huge creature made of bones and skulls rose from the water. It hissed and creaked awkwardly. Its many arms wielded old, rusted weaponry. You summoned your jian back into your hand and stepped up next to Liu who turned back into his stance, hands bathed in fire again.

You waited for the creature to strike. It raised its arms and swung down toward you. You leapt away from the blows. Liu ducked under another and set the arm ablaze and then kicked another back. You leapt over the one he’d kicked and sliced it at the arm and then cut another that was grasping for Liu. You ducked low, rolled back and then knocked the weapon out of another’s grasp. You were always aware of where Liu Kang was. It was unlike any other fight you’d ever been in. It was almost like you’d choreographed it before you’d started. You were so in tune with each other’s energy that you could sense what he was about to do before he did it. You stepped back to allow Liu to keep the creature at bay and with the jian as a pen, you created a heavy chain with ink that attached to the shore. It dripped and then crystallized into form, wrapping around the creature.

Liu rolled over the chain and then knocked the creature back as it pulled, trying to free itself with wild thrashing. Liu flipped backwards and threw fire at the creature that then swatted at him, howling in agony. You leapt atop the chain and ran closer to the creature. You flipped atop the mass that held its many arms. It swung at you wildly and you leapt to the other side of its many heads. With a flourish you drew another chain to wrap around the creature but before you could finish, you were grabbed and thrown back toward the shore.

Liu leapt and caught you, and then gracefully set you down. You bounced to your feet, and you finished the chain and then spun low to the ground, smacking your hand against the stone so that it locked next to the first one. The monster couldn’t move far now but you had to finish it off before you ran out of steam, or it found a way to escape.

Liu nodded toward the creature that thrashed at the chains. They groaned beneath the force. It wouldn’t be held much longer. You threw your jian and it faded into ink and then you mimicked the water, and a wave of ink coated the creature. Ink was flammable. It would smell horrible, but you hoped it would work. “Now, Liu!”

He stepped back, braced his footing and his hand was engulfed in flame, so much so that his flesh seemed to glow orange and crack with bright light. Ducking low, he swung upward and from the water behind the creature, a massive dragon made of fire and lava rose high above it. With a low crouch and a spin of his arms, he slammed his hand to the ground and the dragon opened its great maw and attacked the creature. The ink caught fire just as you had hoped and the creature howled, consumed by flame. Then it stopped thrashing and began to fall toward you with the last bit of its strength.

The shore wasn’t wide enough for you to stay on it, so you grabbed Liu’s arm and you ran from the creature that swept toward you, ablaze, and leapt into the water together. The creature fell after you, its bones scorching and disintegrating as it did. You dove deep beneath the water but as you made your way to the opposite shore, it grabbed your ankle and pulled. You choked and your breath escaped, and you got a mouthful of water and had to resist the urge to breathe and swallow. You fought against the creature’s fading grasp but your lungs were aching so badly that you could do little but kick and flail upward and hope it got you there.

But then Liu’s arm was around you and he pulled you free of its grasp and dragged you above the water. You choked and spat out water, but your lungs were in agony. He pushed your hair back and held you above the water. “Breathe! Breathe, Y/N!”

“Trying.” You croaked and water sputtered past your lips. It was burning at your throat and your lungs, but he had gotten to you before it had gotten worse. You dragged each other to the opposite shore and then Liu urged you to lay back so you could focus on breathing. Then he collapsed on his back next to you to do the same.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat 2021 #kung lao #liu kang #liu kang x reader #kung lao x reader #fanfic #drabble #fluff #mk movie #arcana #female reader #reader insert #liu kang x you #kung lao x you #drama #romance #fanfiction #ludi lin #max huang #liu kang/you #kung lao/you #the oncoming storm #angst

[sofwrites]

I Do (Again)

The last of the eight Bridgerton weddings.

Written in honor of the beautiful and lovely @jake-amy 💛

Themes: fluff, family, light angst, blatant sentimentalism, Bridgertons being Bridgertons

Length: 4.5k

ao3 link | masterlist | read under the cut if you want!

“Well, then you’ll never wake him up.”

“Why don’t we dump some water on him and get it over and done with?”

“Why don’t we dump some water on him and get it over and done with?”

“Hm, I think there’s a mug right-”

“Oh, bloody- Gregory, wake up!”

“Agh!”

The previously sound-asleep gentleman bolted into an upright position as a hand roughly shook his shoulder. With a low moan, he squinted into the darkness, allowing his eyes to adjust to the light. When they did, and he could clearly see the three silhouettes in front of him, he groaned.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Colin quipped, a huge, aggravating grin plastered to his face.

“Congratulations on the big day,” said Benedict.

Anthony nodded his agreement, lips perked up into a smirk. “Have a good sleep?”

Gregory looked towards the window, seeing dim orange light spilling into the room. “What time is it?” he asked, his voice still gruff with sleep.

“Mmm,” Anthony glanced at his pocket watch. “Quarter to six.”

The youngest brother stared at him, then back at the window, then back to the three wide-awake idiots standing before him. He then blinked several times before letting out a long sigh. “And why, pray tell, have you woken me up before sunrise?”

Colin stepped closer to him, grin widening as the other two looked to him to answer. All of them were practically bouncing with excitement. “Why, it is your wedding day, is it not?”

Gregory let out another tired breath, slumping down against his headboard. “It is.”

“Which means that it is Lucy’s wedding day as well, is it not?”

There was a beat of hesitation before Gregory flatly repeated, “It is.”

Colin nodded thoughtfully. “So, I thought that we’d continue our tradition, and, of course, wanted to give Anthony and Benedict the chance to join us in such brotherly bonding.”

Benedict leaned over to give him a heavy pat on the back, a lopsided smile so irritatingly placed on his lips that Gregory had the urge to knock it off. Meanwhile, Anthony’s smirk only grew as he gave him a solemn nod.

“Our tradition?” There was a small crack in his voice as he said it, dread washing over him as he looked between their disturbingly cheery faces.

This time, all three of them grinned and looked at each other for a moment before nodding simultaneously. And just a few seconds later, Gregory’s arms and legs were met by six hands, all hoisting him up and out of his bed with frightening swiftness.

There was a cry and some rather foul language grumbled, as well as some hearty laughter, but soon enough, Gregory had been pushed into the washroom, put into his wedding attire, and then placed into a carriage on its way to Fennsworth House.

“We aren’t really doing this, right?” he asked, still a meager smidgen of hope left within the youngest man.

“Oh,” Benedict laughed, one leg eagerly bouncing on his other knee. “We’re doing this.”

“We could have walked instead of taking the carriage, of course, but I’m afraid poor Anthony’s a bit old for all of that,” Colin teased, giving his older brother a nudge.

Anthony gave him a deadpanned look in return but simply shook his head. “I’m too old for your nonsense, that much is true, at least.”

“I really can’t believe this,” Gregory muttered, crossing his arms. “You’ve all really done this. And on my wedding da...” But he trailed off as his mouth curved into a small smile.

It was his wedding day.

Wedding. Day.

Him. Gregory.

And Lucy. His Lucy.

Lucy Lucy Lucy.

They were getting married.

In just about six hours, they would be married. And she would really and truly be his Lucy.

Gregory was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice his three brothers exchanging amused looks and prideful grins. All he could think about was Lucy, and how beautiful she was going to look, and how happy they were going to be.

When they arrived minutes later, the four Bridgerton brothers climbed up, by order of youngest to eldest, in the very same tree Gregory and Colin had sat in just a few weeks ago.

Once they were settled and decently comfortable, Gregory glanced at them reluctantly. “... We aren’t really going to sit here until Lucy leaves, right? Isn’t it bad luck for me to see the bride anyhow?”

“Oh, don’t worry, we’ve planned for that,” Benedict smiled, patting him on the knee in a mock-reassuring manner. “We’ll push you off and you’ll hide behind the tree until she’s out of sight.”

Gregory looked at him blankly, waiting for a laugh, but it was clear that none of his brothers were joking. In fact, Colin even brought out the bag Gregory hadn’t noticed him bringing and removed an impressive assortment of sandwiches, fruits, and cheese from it. When he noticed his younger brother gaping at him, he, taking a bite of the first sandwich before handing off the bag to Anthony, shrugged. “I certainly wasn’t going to come unprepared this time.”

“I think it’s rather nice,” Benedict said, biting into an apple. “Your last morning as a single man, spent with your three older brothers.”

And although Gregory murmured something like, “We could have gone to the club instead,” there was something surprisingly sentimental about it all, and it seemed to hang in the air for a few moments. There were no sounds other than those of the birds chirping, carriages riding down the road, and four men chewing on their makeship breakfast.

Finally, Anthony cleared his throat. “Now, Gregory. Is there anything you’d wish to know about marriage?”

There was a pause, during which everyone’s minds went to the most wicked of places. Gregory looked at him with a small smile, his neck tinging red, while Colin and Benedict both snorted.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Anthony groaned, rolling his eyes, but no one missed the quirk of his lips.

They spent the remaining hours watching the sunrise and talking, sharing stories and jokes and “marital advice” (some of which Gregory stored away and some of which he knew was utterly useless). It was a bit surreal, in all truth. His three older brothers had always been lumped together, the notorious A, B, and C, whereas he’d always been at the end of the row, happy with his lot but separated all the same.

But that morning, he just felt like ‘one of the Bridgerton men’. It was as if he’d finally crossed from boy into man and was truly a part of them now.

Anthony, Benedict, and Colin, in the meantime, also took notice of how much their little brother had grown, shaping up to be another one of them. They’d all watched him transform from infant into man, but it was only that morning that they’d really noticed it.

The last of the Bridgerton siblings was getting married. A new part of life was truly beginning.

The food had disappeared long before the doors to Fennsworth House opened and servants began bustling out, but the excitement hadn’t stopped. And true to their word, the three older brothers pushed the youngest out of the tree once he’d made it onto the lowest branch, forcing him to stand behind the tree, facing away from the house and his bride.

It was then, while Gregory was standing with his back against the tree and listening for a specific voice, that fear materialized. He’d been distracted thoroughly enough by his brothers throughout the morning for his anxieties to hide away, but then, it was like he was almost alone. And suddenly, he pictured it. Servants exiting the doors, followed by Robert and Hermione, and then-

And then no Lucy.

Robert and Hermione showing up at the church alone, wearing somber expressions and pitying glances.

“She’s not coming,” Hermione would say, her voice soft and condoling.

She wouldn’t marry him. She’d reconsidered and realized that it wasn’t right- that she was making a mistake.

Gregory roughly shook his head, forcing his eyes shut. He was being stupid, he knew that. Lucy had done nothing to make him feel as though she didn’t love him as much as he loved her. She wanted to marry him just as much as he wanted to marry her, there was nothing he was more certain about in his entire being.

But he’d been there, just a few weeks ago, sitting and waiting for her to come out. And then she had, wearing a wedding dress and a smile on her face, absolutely no intention of calling off the wedding.

“Stupid,” he muttered to himself, just quietly enough so that none of his brothers heard.

He heard voices, ones that did nothing to reassure the groom’s failing nerves. He didn’t dare turn around nor look at his brothers, hearing little more than the sound of his beating heart.

But then there was something else.

Among the voices came a giggle, one that was giddy and lovely and made his heart sore like nothing else in the world ever could.

“Please, I don’t want to be late!” he heard Lucy say- his Lucy, her voice filled with joy and just the slightest hint of exasperation.

“She looks lovely, Greg,” Benedict said, the smile clear and bright in his voice.

“Yeah?” Gregory asked, his voice sounding so relieved that all of his brothers caught it.

Anthony, who was closest to him, placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “She really does.”

“Happy as well,” Colin added, grinning down at him.

And with that, Gregory let out a great breath, relaxing back into the tree. “It’s a fine day for a wedding, I think.”

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

It was more modest than her first.

With the rush of the wedding, the decorations proved to be fair but sparse, the gown was pretty but not magnificent, and the chapel was nice but not breathtaking.

But it was better.

So, so much better.

Because the smile on Lucy’s face was so genuine and contented that it made her radiant.

They were in a small back room of the church, Lucy sitting serenely in a chair while Hermione flitted about and doted on her, doing little fixes to the bride’s hair and fluffing out her skirts whenever she saw fit. Every now and again, she’d look up at Lucy and give her a smile so beaming that it was almost overwhelming. “I don’t think there’s ever been a more beautiful bride,” her friend said, reaching up to squeeze her hand.

“Not since your wedding I think,” Lucy said before her lips pinched and her voice weakened, “Or mine, I suppose.”

Hermione tutted softly, standing up to fidget with Lucy’s veil. “Stop that, Luce,” she cooed, “none of that was your fault.”

Lucy glanced at her in the reflection before sighing. “Sorry,” she muttered.

Her maid of honor gave her a thoughtful look, but a knock came and the door opened before either could say anymore.

“I just wanted to take a peek at our blushing bride,” Kate said, affection bursting from her as she smiled at Lucy. “You look gorgeous,” she gushed. “The blue really brings out your eyes, you know?”

She gave her a tiny smile and a wobbly nod, knowing that it was too early in the day for any tears. “Thank you, Kate. Is everyone ready?”

And though she hadn’t meant for it, there was a hint of hesitation in her question, one that Lucy desperately wished didn’t exist. Despite knowing that it was ridiculous, a small part of her was terrified that it really was all too good to be true. That it wasn’t possible for her to really be this happy- that it wasn’t possible for her to get the life she’d only recently realized she wanted.

She hadn’t noticed that she’d tensed up until Kate’s hand met her shoulder, giving her a silent, reassuring squeeze.

Her smile was warm and happy as she answered, “They’re all in there eagerly awaiting you.”

Lucy let out a breath and nodded, relief flooding over her. Her lips curved upwards, and then, with a bit of irony, she asked, “Even Hyacinth?”

Kate laughed, giving her hand a light pat. “She’s not smiting the entire thing, which I think is good progress.”

The bride let out a small laugh and shrugged. She couldn’t really blame her future sister-in-law for the hostility, knowing that it’d be matched had the roles been reversed. Still, Lucy did hope that they’d be friends one day, at least ones close enough for holidays to be pleasant.

“Now, are you ready?” Kate asked, and Lucy blinked at her several times before her face took on a peaceful smile.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more ready for anything in my life,” she said, absolutely sure in her answer.

She loved Gregory in the way that she had spent most of her life believing didn’t exist. She loved him in all the romantic ways poets wrote about, enchanting ways musicians played about, and impossible ways dreamers talked about.

It was unbelievable how lovely life could be with love.

So, yes, she was ready to marry him as long as he was ready to have her.

Kate squeezed her hand. “I’m so glad for you both, Lucy, I truly am. And I’m so glad to be able to call you family, as well.”

This time, Lucy had to blink to rid away the tears stinging the back of her eyes. “Thank you, Kate,” was all she could manage, her voice cracking on the word.

Kate smiled once again and nodded before ducking out of the room to take her seat in the chapel. And then it was time for Lucy and Hermione to make their way, meeting Richard as he waited for them.

He pecked his wife before turning to his sister with a merry smile. “A true vision in blue, Luce.”

She nodded at him as Hermione handed her a bouquet- delphiniums, ones that had been partially ruffled in the transport. It was absolutely different from the bouquet for her first wedding, which had featured perfect white and pink roses and peonies.

Lucy wouldn’t have traded her bouquet of delphiniums for all the money in the world.

She ran a petal between her fingers before she looked up, catching Hermione staring at her with her great big green eyes. “What is it?”

Her friend shook her head, wearing a smile so bright and soft that Lucy almost wondered if it was her wedding day instead. “You just- you look happy.” Hermione then sniffed rather uncharacteristically, “No one deserves this more than you, Lucy.”

And then she blew her a kiss and disappeared into the church, leaving brother and sister alone in the hall. Richard let out a quick breath before offering her his arm, his smile a bit sadder than that of his wife’s.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, worry sounding in her voice.

Her older brother looked down at her, lips pinching together. “I’m so sorry, Lucy.”

Her brows creased in concern and the hold on his arm tightened. “For what?”

He paused for a moment, his eyes moving across her face slowly. “For not stopping you last time. For knowing that you were unhappy and still letting you go through with it.”

“Rich, you didn’t know-” she started, but he hushed her softly.

“I may not have known everything, but I know you, and I should have realized. I haven’t always been a great brother to you- no, don’t try to deny it- but I’m going to try harder now. Now that I’ve seen you when you’re really happy, I never want to see you any less again.”

Lucy’s lip quivered, but still, no tears fell from her eyes. He smiled at her, wondering when in the world his baby sister had become so grown.

“Now, I believe that it’s your turn,” he said, giving her a pat on the hand. “Shall we?”

She chuckled and nodded. “I’d like nothing else.”

And then they entered the main hall of the small church, and Lucy’s heart instantly fluttered.

She didn’t look at him, not yet, for she was sure she might burst from joy and have to race down the rest of the aisle. So, she looked towards the guests, feeling an unfamiliar warmth wash over her. She had a small family and even fewer friends, and she’d expected her meager list of Hermione and her mother to be overwhelmed by Gregory’s never-ending family.

But the Bridgertons were a different sort of people she was beginning to learn, and they’d done something she hadn’t even considered.

They’d split themselves down the middle, giving her side just as much support as Gregory’s.

It was worth more to Lucy than a thousand prime ministers.

She blinked as she walked down, nodding politely to her newfound family and friends. Her eyes were dying to move- to see the one person she cared for most in the entire room- the entire planet, really.

And then she did it, and the symphony in her mind roared with all its might.

Gregory looked only at her, wearing a grin so bright and so large that it took up half of his face. There she was, in all her glory and wisdom, walking down the aisle to meet him.

He had no idea how he’d missed it when they’d met- how he’d been blinded from just how radiant and splendid and dazzling she was. She was like a tide coming in, subtle at first, but then so overpowering and all-consuming that one wondered how it had gotten there without notice.

God- he loved her so damned much that he was imagining poetry in her honor.

As far as he was concerned, there was no one else in the world as Lucy took the steps toward him, matching his smile with one that made her look even more beautiful than he thought humanly possible. And when she finally made it to him, it took all his strength not to take her into his arms right then and there.

He felt it though, behind her loving eyes and happy smile, the worry that held her. He saw it in her lips- though upturned, tight and burdened.

He smiled and leaned in just a few inches. “How many steps did it take to get to the altar?” he whispered as the priest readied himself.

Lucy’s eyes widened in surprise, but her mouth formed a bashful little smile after a moment. “Twenty-six,” she said, a small, eased sigh escaping her.

He nodded and gave her a small wink before turning back towards the priest.

Throughout the ceremony, though the couple exchanged adoring smiles and loving looks, they remained relatively composed. There were no tears or blubbers, no stutters or stammers.

That was, until the “I do’s”, when both bride and groom forgot their past and thought only of the future, and the tears freely flowed. (And trust that they were nowhere near alone in their reactions- for even Anthony Bridgerton was seen subtly dabbing at his eye with a handkerchief.)

And then it was all sealed with one perfect and loving kiss.

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

“Lucy, Lucy, Lucy,” Gregory said in the bridal carriage as they rode to Bridgerton House, making her name sound as though it were a serenade.

“Gregory,” she whispered, staring at him with the sparkling smile that seemed to be permanently resting on her lips. “I can’t believe this is real.”

He grinned, “No annulment then, I hope?”

She giggled (actually giggled) with delight. “I don’t even think that would be possible at this point.”

“Fantastic, you’re stuck with me then,” Gregory said, pecking her cheek.

“Or you’re stuck with me,” she pointed out, a blush (my word- who was she becoming?) spreading across her cheeks.

“We’re married now, and Benedict told me that marriage requires compromise. So, then, can we agree to disagree, Lady Lucy Bridgerton?”

She laughed softly and nodded as he brought her hand to his lips. “I can agree, Mr. Gregory Bridgerton.”

“I love you, Lucy,” he said, pulling her close to settle themselves against each other.

“I love you, Gregory,” she whispered, laying a soft kiss on his jaw.

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

The reception, though planned hastily and kept simple, was elegant and lovely, made all the better by the enamored couple and their merry guests. Lunch consisted of foods poised for enjoyment rather than impressions, which proved overly splendid for the group. The newlyweds laughed and smiled over their own favorites- down to the delicious ham sandwiches provided by Anthony and Kate’s kitchen staff.

Cake and sweets following seemed to animate every child in the room (of whom there were many- far more than even dear Lucy could count), and soon enough, everyone was out of their seats and the happy couple had taken their place on the dancefloor.

“Have I told you how marvelous of a dancer you are?” Gregory asked as he twirled her around the room, feeling perfectly in place as he held her in his arms.

She beamed at him, seeming to cherish every word he said more and more. “Maybe, but I will never tire of hearing it.”

He grinned. “I love you, Lucy.”

She smiled. “I love you, Gregory.”

And he loved her when she left his side to comfort one of his nephews who had stubbed his toe on a chair. He loved her so much as she knelt down to meet little William without even a second’s thought about her dress, giving him her greatest smile and managing to say just the right thing to make the boy giggle and hug his new Aunt Lucy.

She loved him when he went to whisper something to Hermione, causing her to blush crimson and adamantly shake her head. But after a few more seconds, Gregory ultimately said the right thing, for her best friend gave him a conceding nod and took Richard’s hand, leading him to the dancefloor. She loved him so much when he laughed in her ear, watching Hermione struggle along with the steps but giggling and enjoying herself all the same.

The room was filled with so much love and happiness that it enveloped the very air, leaving nothing but merriment and contented sighs in it.

It seemed that every guest in the ballroom wanted to wish the happy couple their congratulations, sharing love and kind words.

Anthony and Kate looked onto the pair as if proud parents, promising that they would be around to support them however they required, and Anthony gave Gregory a handshake that was worth more to him than a thousand words.

Benedict and Sophie met them with hugs and an open invitation to My Cottage whenever they so desired, gushing at the infatuated pair. “I don’t think there’s a couple half as perfect,” Sophie whispered in their ears.

Colin and Penelope extended teasing smiles and knowing looks, reassuring them that their doors were free to use whenever needed. “I can respect anyone who enjoys a good kipper as much as I do,” Colin announced loudly to the slight mortification of both women.

Daphne and Simon granted them hearty felicitations, wishing a lifetime of happiness and kind hearts to the newlyweds in addition to their unyielding loyalty. “I’m always happy to extend the privacy of my dressing room,” Daphne said with a wink, causing Lucy to gape at her. “Secrets don’t last very long in this family,” Simon muttered to her before following behind his wife.

Eloise and Phillip gifted them lifelong encouragement and true disbelief at how perfect of a couple they were. “I swear you were in nappies yesterday,” Eloise said, shaking her head incredulously as she gave her baby brother a hug.

Francesca and Michael wished them love and unbreakable attachment, along with an offer to visit Kilmartin whenever England proved to be too tiresome. “Oh, you’ll see,” Francesca added as Michael laughed and gave a little shrug of agreement.

Hyacinth and Gareth offered mixed wishes- the former vowed her undying devotion (while watching Lucy with a rather harsh look), while the latter just chuckled, giving them both a pleasant smile and good tidings. “I’m sure we’ll all be great friends,” was Gareth’s final word before he pulled his wife to the dancefloor.

The little ones (those who were grown enough) came forth as well, led by Lucy’s newfound greatest fan, William. Caroline, in particular, took an immediate liking to her as well after the bride let out an endearing (and rather loud) snort. “Auntie Lucy!” she giggled, giving the new family member a tight hug.

And then, finally, it was time for the last of the Bridgerton brood to come forth, having waited her turn patiently that entire afternoon.

“My darling boy,” Violet cooed as he leaned down to kiss her cheek. She beamed at him, bestowing onto him with the warmth only a good mother can truly provide.

It made Lucy long for the mother she’d never really known, for the care and kindness that Gregory had grown up receiving. Her heart fell for a moment but rose just as quickly as Violet turned to her, and she realized that there was no reason for her to long anymore. The smile she was given was just as sweet as the one gifted to her own son. “And my darling new daughter.”

Though they’d begun with a rocky start, Violet’s kindness couldn’t be helped once she truly met the lovely girl in front of her. No family except for a brother, with late parents and an estranged (and partially deranged) uncle. No one there to offer her the love she needed.

And it only took one glance of Violet seeing the love Lucy bestowed onto Gregory for her to love her as well.

“I’m so pleased to see you two together,” she said, taking the bride’s hand and squeezing it with affection. “To the life you’ll build, and the children you’ll have, and to the love you’ll share.”

And with that, she kissed them both on the cheeks, eyes shining as she was whisked away by a grandchild.

Gregory turned to his new wife and was delightfully surprised to see her eyes brimming with tears. He smiled, taking her hand and pressing a slow kiss to it.

She looked at him through her own wobbly smile, reaching up to flatten his brow with her thumb. “I almost wish that this day could never end."

He raised a brow, a small smile playing on his lips. “Do my ears betray me or is Lady Lucina Abernathy being sentimental?”

“Oh, heavens no,” she shook her head resolutely, though her watery chuckle betrayed her. She looked at him with a sideways smile. “But I have a feeling that Lady Lucy Bridgerton might be an idealist.”

“I hope so,” Gregory said, his own wet eyes matching hers as he wrapped both arms around her, “because I certainly believe in happy endings.”

#bridgerton fic #my fic #grucy #grecy #gregory bridgerton #lucy abernathy #okay so we got! #absolutelyinlove!grucy #stressed!gregory #worried!lucy #annoyingolderbrothers!ABC #perfectSIL!Kate #perfectMIL!Violet #lucy getting everything she deserves in life! #gregory and lucy the happiest couple in london/the world! #also hi leah #I hope you enjoy this

[apprentice-maliya]

soft and wounded and the night

pairing: asra/mali’ya cw: nightmares, amnesia word count: 3.4k song: solovey by go_a

In his dreams she’s always singing, though Mali’ya only hums.

I gathered the flowers, braided them into a wreath

She was facing him with her back in that memory, her attention to the sink while honey curls swayed gently under the green kerchief at every tilt of her head. 

She’d let hair down, he noticed. That was rare. Once, she’d told him it would always get in the way when she was working.

Her hands washed the dishes in circular motions, slow and careful not to let one slip. Alone in her thoughts, Mali’ya breathes out the songs of her childhood in soft whispers and Asra wonders, each time they meet there, in the empty boundary between memory and reality, how could he ever forget that silvery sound?

He had heard her talk in her native language before, when she wasn’t yet fluent in Vesuvian and the confusion in her mind came out of her lips with frustration and embarrassment; he remembered the words being harsh and intricate and mysterious when she spoke to her aunt, words that crashed one against the other and merged together in a way so foreign to him that Asra could never completely understand.

But when Mali’ya sang, nothing else mattered anymore. All things faded out, all worries and thoughts, all shapes and colours; washed away by songs she knew by heart. It was then, only then, that Venterrean forgot all about its hardness, maybe lost to the water running down the sink or still lingering in her mouth in words of unspoken terrors. 

Braided them into a wreath, the rue and the periwinkle flowers

Even after all that time, Asra could never really give a name to the feeling. He was sure, though, that there was nothing more enticing than the way Mali’ya’s voice would die out like candlelight.

After securing the last plate in the cupboard, Mali’ya turned to him with that indulgent smile of hers he so much loved. 

“Don’t you ever get tired of it?” she asked with curiosity, thinking about the days he would overhear her from his booth on the other side of the backroom’s wall, her own bedroom at the time. “It’s not the loveliest song. Or language, even.”

Nightingale, nightingale, do not sing so early

Shaking his head no, Asra mirrored her smile from the kitchen table where he was sitting. “Actually,” he replied, lips up in a playful smirk, “It’s very, very lovely, if you ask me.”

Happiness was bright in the curve of her mouth as Mali’ya approached him, jade eyes dissolving for a moment into a line of thin golden lashes, pressed down in disagreement under her furrowed brows. He couldn’t help it. Instinctively, perhaps a bit too eagerly (but who was he to deny her?), the moment she made way between his parted legs to get closer and her hands ran up to cup his face, Asra leaned in to meet her touch.

Oh, how he’d missed this. The gentle palms, and the smallest hint of calluses on her fingertips; her thighs, too, which he held on to steadily, still so soft and welcoming as he remembered them. The scent of her freckled skin, something faintly floral, embracing him from every angle like a protection charm.

Carding her fingers through his hair in a way that it would give her free access, Mali’ya bent down to lay a kiss on his forehead. Her lips lingered there for a moment, as if unsure of what to do, and Asra tilted his head up to welcome what would come next.

So Mali’ya kissed him with no hesitation, her lips on his and his heart on a sleeve, the beats loud and attuned to hers, to the song her aura let out when their souls would meet.

It felt so right, it always did. It was the place to be. Always, forever, as long their bodies would last before turning to dust.

She smiled into the kiss and slowly began to pull away, while the smell of rain gathered gently around them. It was the same as when she enchanted her chamomile tea before going to bed, Asra recalled, hoping that the memories wouldn’t come back to devour her in her sleep; the same as when she found out about the kids, and healed the wounds on their knees with a simple ghosting of her fingertips. It was the smell of storms and worry, but she always looked hopeful when it rained.

I’ll stop soon, and you’ll be able to play outside again, she would tell Luz.

Asra wraps his arms around her. The song echoes,

My heart can’t feel good about this

Don’t go. Don’t go.

“Asra,” Mali’ya called, tender as ever. Any tinge of joy in her voice was gone already; and although she was trying to sound serene, and he couldn’t see the sadness in her eyes, he just knew it was there. He had learnt everything about her during the time they’d spent together; every gesture, every change in her behaviour when she would push aside what she truly wanted. And Asra knew this was for his sake alone, too. He’d been foolish to hope things could change; as if nothing could ever change, at last in his memories.

So he kept quiet.

Her hands were still caressing his nape when Mali’ya spoke again. “You have to wake up, love,” she murmured, returning his hug just as urgently.

She rarely called him that, Asra thought. Because she had grown up believing love was to be found in the little things, those unnoticeable acts of service towards the ones she cherished, Mali’ya had never been one for pet names or clamorous displays of affection. She would rather trust, offer, provide; pour her heart into everything she touched.

Love.

Four silly letters for one silly word. Asra still remembered a time before her in which it was just a meaningless concept he and Muriel did not dare to share with the world. But when she called him that, she made it sound like the poets had been right all along.

“You know you can’t stay here.”

“Why not?” He sounds like a whiny brat, of that much he’s aware. He holds her closer. Can’t they just go back to being kids? Can’t he make it right once and for all, can’t he make up for what he had destroyed with his own selfishness? Mali’ya squeezes her arms around him one last time.

In the distance, someone sings a song of longing and fear.

“Take care, love,” is her parting whisper.

Then Asra blinked and she was gone again, like smoke, bringing any trace of sunlight away with her. It was as if she’d never been there. As if he’d abandoned her once more. Shut her out. The one that had tiptoed so gently into his world, cradled his heart and soul in her hands asking nothing in return. She, Mali’ya, who was made of chopped roots and timid branches and radiated so much warmth he could drown in it. He’d taken her for granted from day one, apparently, because there was never a time in which she’d beg him to stay.

As though all strength had been drained from him, Asra leaned in on the table as the room dissolved around him, arms covering his face and fingers gripping his hair in a punishing hold because you killed her, Asra. You killed her and she’s never coming back. Never. And it’s all your fault.

It gets cold in the nightmare. The wind howls, scentless and cold, and this time the whiffs don’t carry any songs with them. Asra stays still. There are no tears he can cry; he dried them all a long ago, digging his hands until they bled on the black shores of the Lazaret.

If it hadn’t been for you, Mali’ya would still be alive. Breathing.

It took him but a second to put a face to the voice echoing in the void of his mind. It wasn’t like anything he had heard before, because now Mrs Heralia sounds angry, and disappointed, and her thick accent makes way among the words like it’s meant to stab him through his heart. And she would have all the reasons to do so.

Why did you leave, Asra? Why did you leave my niece alone? You promised you’d take care of her on my behalf. I entrusted her to you. Tell me, do you have any idea of what she must have gone through while you were away, warm and healthy and very much alive? Do you, Asra?

The voice was growing louder in his ears. Asra felt like his head was about to explode, but it was a blessing that his teacher wasn’t real, not physically there to make him stare into her soul and force him see all the hurt he’d caused to her only niece— The same he saw in his eyes every time he looked at himself in the mirror, a pretty wicked thing worn out by selfishness and anguish.

“I— I never wanted to— I thought she would—”

That she would come after you when you left? Oh, but do you know why she didn’t? Can’t you possibly imagine why she stayed?

Heralia let out a sigh, low and disappointed. Sharp. Asra could tell she was aiming for her killing blow.

Has she ever meant something to you more than a shadow that would follow you everywhere and console you in the dark?

Water gathered in Asra’s throat, setting it aflame as an apology fought its way out. He jumped up, forgetting about the chair he was sitting on; which, without making a single sound, fell quickly into the darkness rising at the edge of his consciousness.

No, he meant to tell his teacher. A last defence against the hatred dripping from her chin. She was more than that, so much more. But a choked sob came out instead, before another followed, and another, and another...

Suddenly he feels like a child again, out in the cold. Alone. Mrs Heralia has vanished, too, and in the wide, scary unknown around him that’s slowly drifting from pitch-black to candid shades of white, Asra feels it; death’s touch like ragged paper on his skin, passing him by, so his lungs are full of air again and his heart pumps louder in his chest. It could be heaven, just floating around aimlessly in pure light.

The first thing he hears is the familiar sound of cutlery clinking before him.

Asra opened his eyes, waking up to the small kitchenette on the shop’s first floor. Nothing had changed a bit since he came back from… Well, he couldn’t really remember. But small bouquets of dried herbs still hung above the stove, where the salamander was sleeping soundly, and familiar, colourful jars filled the cramped shelves.

Then he hears her. She’s singing, of course she is. She’s calling him back to her. And she must’ve been so close he thinks, maybe climbing up the stairs or folding some clothes in the other room, because her voice was all around him and he would have looked for her everywhere if only the kitchen hadn’t started spinning like crazy, merging colours and shapes and taking his breath away in heavy gasps—

In the end, like always, the dream takes over the memory too quickly to linger anymore. So Asra gives up. There’s no hope to win against his guilt, to pacify it once and for all. And he’s so tired. Tired of wishing for her to remember him. Or what they had. Her past, their past, the days spent together climbing trees and learning magic and holding hands. He’s tired of trying. 

Asra falls in the cold, again, curled up in the white nothingness around him. 

Take care, love.

That voice again. Just now, someone was calling out to him in the distance. But who? And from… where…?

All of sudden, memory and sleep parted from him. The cold, too, had disappeared. There was something warm and delicate holding his face, though he couldn’t tell what. It was soft and a bit rough around the edges, shaped like it was meant to be cradling him, and strangely enough, the air smelled like damp soil after a long night’s rain. His body felt heavier than before as well, out of his dream-like state, while his lungs still struggled to catch up with his frantic pants.

“Master? Can you hear me? I’m here, Master. You’re safe— Please, please wake up.”

A hand, that was it, carded through his bangs, pushing them aside so that his forehead could freshen up. As a matter of fact, he did feel a bit hot. Asra slowly cracked his eyes open to take in his surroundings.

He was in their bedroom. It was probably late night, or maybe early enough for the sun to rise. Not like he could tell. Fireflies swirled silently around him—no, not fireflies, but tiny spheres of light. Gentle hands cupped his face, thumbs slowly stroking his cheekbones.

A few inches above him, Mali’ya let out a long, relieved sigh. She was kneeling on the floor, probably feeling a little sore by now, nonetheless she smiled reassuringly in his direction. Her braids were messy, Asra noticed. A few golden strands curled on her cheeks, framing her eyes. How could anyone be so beautiful?

“It’s okay,” she murmured, a bit startled the moment their eyes interlocked. Asra couldn’t really see it, his vision hazy from the dream, but he knew of the hint of a blush that was about to spread on her face at the sudden realisation of their close, if intimate, proximity. Despite that, she didn’t pull away. If anything, Mali’ya’s aura grew warmer. “It was just a nightmare.”

Asra propped himself up on one elbow, but regretted it immediately. To leave him more space to move and stretch, her hands intertwined on her lap.

“’M sorry I woke you,” he blurted out, still fighting the remnants of sleep.

Mali’ya shook her head as to shush him, lips still up in the gentlest smile. “Don’t say that,” she coaxed him, but then she stopped, unsure, fidgety fingers playing with the hem of her nightgown. “Is there anything I can do? Like…”

Staring at her with an expectant look, Asra felt his heart flutter. He couldn’t help it, not with her being so thoughtful and sweet in her shyness.

“Like a cup of tea. Or I can brew you some chamomile, if you want, or...” Jade eyes pierced right through him like arrows from Cupid’s quiver, soft and sincere and always, always agonizing to stare into. “Would you like… a hug?” 

Asra sat up, fully awake now, smiling teasingly as he raised an eyebrow. “A hug. You sure make it sound important, do you?”

“You always hug me when I have nightmares,” Mali’ya replied, not taking any of his playful tone, although the red deepening on her cheeks said a lot about the embarrassment coming from his remark. “Fine,” she sighed, stumbling back up to walk to the kitchenette. “The tea will do.”

Asra chuckled. She’d never been comfortable with displays of affection, had she? Even before this whole mess it had taken her a while to step out her bubble and hold his hand just because, or kiss him on a whim, let alone anything like listening to her body when the words would fail them. And Asra had been happy, oh, so happy to witness the rewarding growth of her blooming confidence.

When he stepped into the small kitchen, Mali’ya was already crouched down beside the stove. She was saying something in a quiet whisper, looking apologetic, and a moment later she got up to pick a flower from the ones he’d brought her from the forest a couple of days ago, for her to dry. She knelt down again, offering a wild amaryllis to the salamander, and beamed.

“Thanks. And sorry for troubling you, little one.”

“He must have a soft spot for you,” Asra pointed out as he sat at the table. “I never seem to bribe him right.”

Mali’ya let out a small laugh, adjusting the teapot on the stove. “Oh, it’s not hard to please him. After all, everybody wants to be pampered once in a while.”

Resting his chin on the inside of his hand, Asra hummed quietly. “So do I get to be pampered, too?”

There is a thin line between this and mere selfishness, he thinks, but his heart speaks before his mind can catch up and properly elaborate his thoughts.

“Will you sing for me?”

Abruptly, Mali’ya stopped in her tracks, her hand coming down from the shelf where their cups rested. She didn’t turn around. “I’m sorry, I… I can’t think of any songs.”

I’m sorry I can’t remember.

Asra felt his heart sink in his chest. “No, it’s—”

“Do you… do you have any suggestions? They say you can make a song out of anything.”

She still wasn’t looking at him, now busying herself with the steam rising from the pot, but the resolve in her voice was strong as ever. From the moment she’d first woken up from her slumber, Mali’ya had made so much progress; she was curious, determined to learn and catch up to normalcy, and stopped at nothing. There was always a way with her. She’d always been like that.

“Master?” she called out to him, their mugs in hand, and Asra quickly snapped back to reality.

“You remember the song,” he started, carefully threading each word so as not to prompt one of her devastating headaches. “That I would sing to you when you couldn’t sleep? It’s been a while, though, you probably—”

“The one about the lovers and the nightingale. Yes,” Mali’ya cut in, gently pouring the tea in his cup before filling hers. She nodded, then handed him the honey jar. “I remember that.” A small smile that barely revealed her dimples curved up her lips as she blew on the infusion. “It’s one of my favourites.”

“Ah,” Asra said. Was it just a coincidence? That she liked the same song she once used to love? His attention returned to the mug before him. “Is it?”

“Of course. You said you heard it from a traveller, right?”

“Something like that.”

Mali’ya looked down, pondering something. A tea leaf floated in the greenish drink in her hands, its corners burned by the hot water it had been thrown into. She tentatively took a sip. “Were they native? From—where does the song come from?”

“Venterre. I translated it,” Asra explained, though it wasn’t exactly how things had gone. There had once been a time in which he had been the one asking her to share the secrets of her mother tongue. A request Mali’ya couldn’t refuse him, no matter the difficulty of those foreign sounds. “And yes, they grew up there... but left at a young age.”

Mali’ya closed her eyes for a moment, lost in thought. Hadn’t she been smiling in the while, Asra would’ve thought he’d said too much. So he did the same. “Something’s on your mind?”

“I was wondering, what does Venterrean sound like? I’ve never heard anybody speak it,” she confessed with a shrug, and took another sip from her cup. “Though I suppose it’s not the loveliest language.”

“It’s actually very, very lovely,” Asra replied.

Beyond the curtains the sun began to rise, idly bathing the kitchenette in its warm and golden light. Mali’ya still pondered something, chin on her palm as she looked over the window. And just like the first time they’d met, two strangers in the Market District fighting for their lives in their own way, Asra couldn’t stop looking at her as she glowed before his eyes, ethereal and strong and beautiful in the fiery red of dawn.

With a quick motion of his fingers he pinched the tip of her nose, causing Mali’ya to snap out of her train of thoughts. “I can teach you some words, if you so wish,” he suggested before taking a long sip, and lowering his gaze. “Although I must tell you, it’s not the easiest language either. It might take some time.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Mali’ya shook her head, a smile carefully concealed between her lips. “We have plenty.”

Nightingale, nightingale, do not sing so early My heart can’t feel good about this Nightingale, nightingale, what do I do now? I came to love him once—and cannot forget him.

#the arcana #asra alnazar #asra x mc #asra x apprentice #🏷 book i: mali’ya #💌 : can’t stop you putting roots in my dreamland #i published this on here and ao3 like exactly one year ago does it ever draw you crazy how fast the night changes #dani writes

[mommy-medusa]

y'all thought you'd seen the last of me? NOPE! enjoy a scene between Medusa and Athena!

---

Medusa met her at the top of a cliff overlooking the sea around her island. There was a singular tree atop it, a giant, majestic olive, bearing juicy green fruits that Teddi would often snack on. Beneath its lush brambles, stood her visitor, glowing soft gold, staring out at the wine-dark ocean as the full moon reflected against the roiling surface and the shined armor she wore. When the owl arrived, it perched on her shoulder and tapped her on the cheek with its beak to get her attention.

Medusa still vividly remembered the first day they met. Teddi was only four at the time. They were coming back from a visit with Euryale, and the sky was dark and heavy with rain, but nothing could have prepared Medusa for what followed.

The storm hit them like a wall. Teddi dropped the rock she had been fiddling with and burst out crying. There were noises in the trees all around them. Visibility was zero.

For a moment, Medusa didn't know where they were.

Who she was.

Did she have a splitting headache on that day or was her mind just starting to make things up, back-projecting her memories like a faulty storyteller who kept forgetting details about the tale?

Whatever it may have been, it wasn’t even the worst part. There was something massive in the woods around them, something that circled like a frenzy of sharks who’d just smelled fresh blood. Medusa hadn’t been able to see who or what it was with the rain pelting into her eyes; the lack of sight was terrifying for her, as her main line of defense completely revolved around it.

Teddi was crying her little heart out, clinging to Medusa in terrified desperation. Medusa cupped the back of her head with her hand, pressing her face into her chest to muffle her strangled sobs, but it was not enough to make them hidden in the wake of what could only be described as a baby hurricane.

Something lunged out from the underbrush, and Medusa was prepared to defend her daughter, even if it meant dying.

But then there was a flash of white light, and a spear stabbed down into the beast’s skull, pinning it to the ground. Medusa looked up through the sheets of rain pouring down into her face, and a bolt of lightning lit up the figure of her celestial savior standing before her.

Now, however, there was no lightning to light the way. Instead, there was the full moon, and Selene’s glowing silver gaze backlit the goddess that had called upon Medusa to the meeting spot.

She was thin but muscular, donned in a pure white, full-length chiton that was padded with golden armor on her narrow shoulders and chest, its polished metal carved in the intricate design of an owl’s head coiled in olive vines. Shining gauntlets were clasped around her wrists, one hand holding a spear wound by a snake and the other bearing a shield of goatskin. A black cloak trimmed with emerald green serpents billowed in the slight breeze of night behind her, making her look like she had wings. On her head she wore a golden owl-shaped helmet, its gaze a glare of onyx. When she turned to Medusa, her eyes were as grey-blue as the ocean water and infused with light.

For a long moment, Gorgon and Goddess of Wisdom just looked at each other in silence.

“Athena,” the gorgon finally said.

“Medusa,” the goddess replied.

Medusa tipped her head at the serpent-trimmed cloak and snake-wound spear. “Did you bring those as a tribute to me?”

Athena’s face twitched slightly, like she was trying very hard to not react in a way that wasn’t mature. She was always like that, always keeping that dumb facade up because of the pressure put upon her by her father.

“I don’t tribute anyone,” Athena said curtly.

“I see,” Medusa said. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?” She slithered up the rest of the cliff’s incline delicately, her long tail leaving no trace in the damp grass. She closed the distance between her and her visitor, getting right in front of Athena, so close they were almost touching. “Or have you come to see me?”

Athena’s face did that thing again, this time with more of a noticeable struggle. Behind her luscious wisps of brown-black hair, Medusa almost thought she could see hints of red.

“No,” Athena said harshly. “I have not.”

“Oh?” Medusa placed a black-clawed hand on one of Athena’s shoulders, tracing the weaving designs inlaid across her armor pads. “Then for what did you summon your little messenger for?” She eyed the owl, which had shifted its position on an overhanging branch. It blinked back at her with those huge, goggle-like eyes of its.

Athena opened her mouth, then closed it a moment later, seemingly cornered. Medusa had her prey right where she wanted her. Her lips split open in a wicked smirk, venomous fangs flashing in the moonlight.

“Are you sure, dear Athena,” Medusa purred, leaning her face in close to Athena’s, her tail slowly wrapping around the goddess’ legs, “that you have not come to sate your desires with me?”

Athena pulled away suddenly, stabbing her spear into the ground like she was trying to command the earth to crack open and swallow Medusa up for her words. Her cheeks bore the flickers of an interesting shade of red, which Medusa would have additionally teased her on if she weren’t completely engulfed by laughter.

“Medusa,” Athena hissed.

“I apologize, I apologize--” Medusa sputtered out through her laughter. She had respectively pulled back as well, but couldn’t help the fit of giggles that rolled through her. “You just make it so easy!”

Athena’s nose wrinkled slightly. She seemed to have calmed herself, though she still had the faintest tint of a crimson blush on her cheeks.

“I apologize,” Medusa said again, straightening herself up. “I’m good now.”

“Are you really?” Athena asked incredulously.

“Yes,” Medusa answered, her voice evened out.

“Hm,” Athena’s gaze shifted back out to the water. She looked like she was watching for something. “It’s good to see you, too.”

Ever since that night eight years ago, Athena routinely made trips back to Sarpedon. At first, Medusa didn’t understand why; yes, she treated her to hospitality and dinner as thanks for the rescue, but why would the powerful goddess of wisdom and war herself want to stick around with a monster and her human child? Eventually, she found out: Athena was as lonely as she had been. Though, it came in a much different form compared to what Medusa used to feel.

Try as she might, Athena could not shield off all of her emotions. She had more walls than anyone Medusa had ever known before (which wasn’t a lot, but it was still something), but once she created cracks in the granite, she was able to read her as clearly as Nyx spelling out “I NEED FRIENDS” with the stars.

Medusa quickly picked up on all the little quirks she hadn’t noticed the first few times she and Athena met up--the face twitch thing, the way she would sometimes fall into an obedient silence, the constant tenseness in her muscles like she never relaxed--but then she started spotting even more mannerisms: the sheer will she had to use to keep her voice level, the mindset that she wasn’t allowed to show any emotions that weren’t deemed mature or leader-like, the way her voice raised a few octaves when she was flustered or taken off guard, the panic she felt when that pretense did start to slip.

Personally, Medusa preferred the goddess when she wasn’t wearing that stupid mask she created for herself. She liked the awkward, endearing Athena that could make Helios jealous when she smiled and was really bad at crab catching.

But at the same time, Medusa could understand why she had such a thing in place for herself. She didn’t walk about it often, Medusa believed she didn’t like to in the first place, but Athena shared what she wanted. And with every snippet she let slip out of her own personal struggles, Medusa understood a little bit more.

To be the favorite child of the King of Gods himself must be like constantly walking on eggshells. Medusa had thought her monstrous parents had been harsh and disciplinary, but after hearing stories about what it was like having Zeus as a father made her grateful to have Ceto and Phorcys instead of the bearer of lightning himself. She couldn’t truly understand such an experience, but she got a taste of it through Athena: through the constant tension in her body like she was a coiled jungle cat ready to spring, through the practiced reserved tone of voice, through the tired eyes from constant pressure from her father, through the guilty looks when she did show emotion and the guilty looks when she didn’t show emotion.

Athena came to Sarpedon time and time again to get away from all of that, to finally relax, and Medusa was determined to help her with that.

Still. It didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to tease the goddess.

“Are you waiting on a boat?” Medusa asked, following Athena’s gaze out to the water.

For a moment, Athena went rigid, but it went away as quickly as it came. She was usually very good about fixing the slips in her demeanor; another thing Zeus and his excellent parenting could be thanked for.

But this time-- this time something a little extra lingered behind before Athena was able to bury it away with every other emotion that she deemed negative. If Medusa hadn’t been so in tune with the way Athena acted, she probably would have missed it, but it was there, flickering in the reflection of the moon in her glimmering grey-blue eyes.

Fear.

“No,” Athena answered. “Just watching the water. It’s a beautiful view.”

Medusa let it slide for the moment. As concerned as she was, she knew better than anyone that Athena didn’t like to be pushed. She already dealt with it enough from her father, Medusa didn’t want her to have to deal with it from her safe person, too.

“It is,” Medusa agreed. Then, hoping to ease Athena’s obvious worry, she added breezily, “Not as beautiful as you, though.”

Athena went rigid again, but this time it was for an entirely different reason. The blush came back, deeper than before, and she tried to hide it by turning her head away, but Medusa had already caught on.

“Thank you,” Athena said in a clipped voice.

“You always act as though you’ve never been complimented,” Medusa said, sliding up next to her so they would both be standing at the edge of the cliff.

“On my strength,” Athena said. “I get complimented on my strength. And my fighting prowess and my ability to kill people.”

“Oh, so do I!” Medusa grinned at her.

“Not on-- on--”

“Your beauty?”

Athena looked away again, but the glow of the moon reflected against the red of her cheeks. “Mmm. Sure.”

“You know, one day I’m going to make you admit it,” Medusa said.

“Admit what?”

“That you’re pretty.”

“Mmm,” Athena made the noise again, something she would do when she was caught between a rock and a hard place and didn’t know what to say. “Over my dead body.”

It showed up again- the fear. It remained a little longer than the first time, and Medusa even heard Athena suck in a sharp breath before she was able to regain control of herself again.

The first time was worrying enough for Athena, but a second? Medusa was going to give the goddess one more chance to either open up herself or quiet her anxieties before she stepped in.

“Anyway, I’m immortal,” Athena went on hurriedly. “So it won’t ever happen.”

“Well, I’m immortal, too,” Medusa said. “So I’ll just wait it out with you.”

There it was again, and so close to the second time, too. Something really had Athena unsettled. But before Medusa could begin questioning her, Athena spoke up before she could, halting her words for the moment.

“You’re not immortal,” Athena almost growled. “You can die.”

Silence. The owl overhead shifted on its branch, as on edge as its goddess.

“Athena, what’s going on?” Medusa asked. “What’s wrong?”

Athena looked away quickly. “Nothing.”

“Athena--”

“Nothing is wrong,” Athena snarled, using the voice she often used for war in hopes that it would scare Medusa into leaving her alone. But the goddess of wisdom seemed to forget that Medusa had two monsters for parents, more specifically Ceto for a mother, and nothing was more frightening than the way they would roar when she or her sisters did something bad.

“Athena,” Medusa softened her own voice. She raised her tail and slipped it under Athena’s chin, making her look at her. “What’s wrong?”

Athena was quiet for a moment. Medusa thought she was going to give her the silent treatment before she finally relented, “A man approached me earlier today. Perseus. He asked for my help in slaying you.”

Medusa was silent.

“I didn’t agree,” Athena went on quickly, sounding slightly panicked. “I refused his request and sent him away. But still. I worried.”

Medusa couldn’t believe it: Athena, goddess of war, known for her incredible skill in battle, was freaked out for her sake. Out of all the things she had seen, the lifetime worth of carnage she had witnessed over the years, the tons of gore she was often drenched in during times of war, all the battles and the violence and the death, it was a man saying he wanted to kill Medusa that got her worked up.

Medusa began to laugh.

Athena was startled. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Medusa flicked her tail. “It’s just-- you have probably witnessed enough bloodshed and violence and other horrors to strike a mortal mind into complete insanity, and this is what frightens you?”

Anger flitted across Athena’s expression. It was more common than most of her other emotions, but still didn’t come out very often. When it did, Medusa thought she looked like a fiercer, adorable, more attractive version of Ares.

“Should I have agreed then?” Athena asked. “Maybe I should have given him a ride over on my giant owl?”

“You have a giant owl?”

“Not the point,” Athena snapped. “The point is that a man wanted to kill you and you are laughing.”

“Athena, darling, if you haven’t noticed, a lot of people want to kill me,” Medusa said. She could tell her lack of worry was getting on Athena’s nerves.

“No, you don’t understand!” Athena said, and she sounded completely panicked, now.

“Athena, breathe--”

“He was a demigod.”

That made Medusa pause. She blinked.

“Oh,” she finally said. “I see. How peculiar.”

Athena looked anguished. “Yes, and he’s dangerous. To you and to Teddi. And if anything happened to you, I--”

Medusa cupped Athena’s cheeks, silencing her. The goddess’s eyes were as big as the moon when she looked at her.

“Athena,” Medusa said, her tone both calm and commanding at the same time. “Breathe. It’s alright. Nothing is going to happen.”

“But--”

“Nothing,” Medusa cut her off, “is going to happen. Just breathe, darling. It’ll be alright.”

Medusa couldn’t believe it: the goddess of war and wisdom herself actually listened to her. Athena gave her a tiny nod and then shut her eyes, taking several deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth.

“Good,” Medusa purred, wrapping her tail around Athena. “I’ve handled myself well enough over the centuries, have I not?”

Another small nod.

“Now, tell me, dear Athena: who is this man?”

Athena finally opened her eyes, and Medusa could see that several of her walls had been let down. She could feel it, too; against the scales along her tail, Athena’s muscles were loosening their vice on her bones and her posture was slouching ever so slightly into Medusa’s grip.

“His name is Perseus,” Athena said. “He’s one of my many, many brothers, but this is the first time we’ve met.”

“Your father sure does know how to get around,” Medusa commented.

Athena snorted. Medusa loved it when she would laugh. “Tell me about it. But Perseus came to me asking for aid, something about your head being a gift for a king. I didn’t listen very much. I sent him away as quickly as possible.”

“And you were worried about me,” Medusa cooed, brushing back some of Athena’s hair. It was like silk against her fingertips.

“Yes, I was,” Athena said. “I do not want anything to happen to you.”

“You underestimate me, dear Athena,” Medusa said, leaning in. “I’m stronger than you think, and-- may I kiss you?”

With her jaw hanging open slightly, Athena nodded.

Medusa smiled, closed her mouth for her, and then pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. She craved the warmth Athena’s body held.

“As I was saying,” Medusa went on. “Nothing will happen. Everything is okay. You can relax now, my darling.”

Athena opened her mouth, most likely to object, but then closed it and nodded silently. Medusa kissed her again.

“I do, however, find your worry both adorable and incredibly attractive,” Medusa said, making Athena red. “Sit with me.”

They both sat on the edge of the cliff, looking out at the ocean. Medusa still had her tail loosely wound around Athena, but Athena didn’t seem to mind. She wasn’t making any effort to get her off.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Athena whispered at one point.

Medusa looked at her endearingly. “You won’t,” she said. “I promise.”

Athena nodded slightly.

“You were right,” Medusa said, gazing at the water. “The ocean is beautiful.”

“Almost as beautiful as you,” Athena mused.

Medusa laughed. “Bold, are we?” she grinned. “First my heart, now my words? What’s next, my dear Athena?”

Athena was smiling, now. “Your favorite citrus tree? I have yet to decide.”

Medusa laughed some more. It was moments like this that really made her think about what her life had become. So much had changed in a span of only twelve years, and though it moved fast, she enjoyed every minute of it. She held those memories like stars, and they seemed to be laid out before her in the glittering night sky as she sat there on that cliff, Athena by her side, thinking.

#medusa’s child #medusa #athena #greek myth #greek myth retellings #greek mythology #greek stories #medusathena

[elsanna-shenanigans]

June Contest Submission #13: sound of rain

Words: ca. 5,500 Setting: mAU Lemon: No CW: Angst, incest shame, mentions of driving in storms

What were Anna’s greatest fears, you ask? Well, for starters, she was scared of clowns. And spiders. And those Minecraft icebergs videos on youtube that always played creepy music in the background and promised to not discuss creepypastas of any kind (but were always lying. Those especially kept her up at night).

However, not even the most predictable jumpscare, which always sent Anna falling off her chair like the adult she was, could hold a candle to the way her stomach sank when her mother called that one night at 7 pm. Anna could barely hear her phone below the branches rattling against the windows and the heavy rain loudly splattering on their roof. She’d already been on edge since she heard the wind blowing a little bit harsher than usual. It resembled a woman’s shriek. But when she tiptoed towards her phone (like she did whenever she was spooked), she was thrust into a much more horrifying ordeal, one she’d been trying to avoid every time the chance came up. Her throat went dry. She clenched her fist.

“Anna, love, we won’t be able to make it home tonight.”

They’d leave them alone. The two sisters. Alone at night.

“We’ll stay with some friends. They live only a few blocks away from work.”

Heavy footfalls echoed down the stairs. A wretched feeling clawed at Anna’s stomach. 

“We already told your sister. She’ll take care of you.”

Her sister. Elsa, her sister, who stood now on the bottom of the stairs, staring at Anna without interrupting this one-sided stream of words their mother poured into her ears. The shirt she wore was shoulderless. 

Anna coughed.

“O-oh! Is it really that bad over there?”

“The streets are flooded, love. Crap, I think it’s only getting worse. We’ll leave in the morning as soon as it’s safe.”

Safe. 

Anna swallowed.

“Is that alright? Do you need us? We… we could try to drive there if you’re scared.”

“No!” Anna blurted, startling Elsa. “Wait, what? No-no-no-no, you guys stay there. Elsa and I will be fine, right, Els?” She shot her sister a quick look. Elsa nodded. “We’ll… we’ll have a girl’s night. Paint each other’s nails and stuff. Easy-peasy!”

Elsa nodded again. 

‘Easy-peasy’. Who ever said that? Why would Anna say that? It wasn’t easy-peasy at all.

Anna wasn’t an easily scared person. Sure, she used to snuggle with her sister during the scary parts of Sharkboy and Lavagirl, but that was in the past. She was a very responsible 18-years-old grown-up now. Planning a trip for her gap year once school was over and all. She wasn’t scared of spending a night without her parents, and she wasn’t scared of some rain. She wasn’t even scared of Elsa’s terrible cooking.

Something else that kept her on edge.

There was this boy at school. He was in her class. A senior, like her. He was funny. Cute, even. They liked to hang out during lunchtime and free periods. He was mostly nice to her, but there was this thing he’d said that day, just as a light rain began to fall. Just a tiny thing that stayed with her after school was over. 

Her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth.

“Are you trying to stab your meal?” Elsa asked. Anna realized she was holding her knife above the poor tortured pasta. She must have been punishing it without noticing.

“Sorry,” she murmured, then placed the knife down. “I’m just… just…”

She looked up, and her heart sank a little. Her sister’s eyes were downcast, her expression melancholic and somber. She avoided her sister’s gaze.

Anna’s mouth shut.

She’d been getting too caught up in her inner ramblings. 

“Are you alright? You look a bit down.”

Elsa smiled sadly and shook her head. 

“It’s nothing.”

Anna squinted, studying Elsa’s expression. Her lopsided smile, her delicate hands on the table, her avoidant gaze.

“I know what’s wrong. You’re thinking about Honeymaren again.”

Elsa exhaled through her nose. It was that nose-exhale laugh that was barely a laugh, but Anna always counted it as one to add to her mental list of times she made Elsa laugh.

“Is it that obvious?”

“I just know that face. Your secret is safe with me,” Anna promised, with a smile. “Now, spill it. What’s on your mind?”

Elsa shrugged.

“I… don’t know. I feel like I wasn’t honest with her. About… how I felt.”

Anna frowned, but didn’t interrupt.

Elsa breathed deeply. She still avoided Anna’s gaze.

“It wasn’t fair for her. That is all.”

“Don’t you think your sister should know?”

The boy’s voice echoed between her ears. Anna resisted the urge to sweep her head from side to side.

Now she was avoiding Elsa’s gaze, and she was sure she was blushing. It must be visible under the kitchen’s cold light. Her leg began bouncing, almost on its own. It did that when she had too much energy. Or when she was uneasy. 

A bitter feeling settled in her stomach. She could escape from her thoughts for some time but not forever. Everything was a potential reminder.

“Anna.”

Anna’s head snapped up. Her mind went blank for a moment. 

She found her sister’s eyes locked with hers. They were kind. Gentle.

“Thank you for asking,” Elsa said. Anna’s heart gave a leap, because those eyes were on her, and her sister was gazing at her and that was such an unbelievable honor, to be seen by this wonderful woman. 

Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth again. She clenched her teeth. She gulped audibly. Her vocal cords seemed to be tied up.

In that moment, the need to tell her everything seized her. It was the need to be honest with Elsa and the need to get it out of her mind. She craved comfort and reassurance.

She had Elsa’s full attention, but no matter how much Anna wanted it, she held herself back.

Instead, she smiled and stood up.

“Come on. I’ll do the dishes.”

Because here’s the thing: Anna was a loving, caring, protecting soul. She liked listening to boys at school complain about their many brothers. She liked hearing about her parents’ work. She even liked hearing Elsa talk about her crushes, her fears, her college classes, or her ex-girlfriends. As she saw it, providing a safe space and a willing ear was a big part of loving others,

Another big part of loving others was knowing when to keep quiet.

There simply were issues you wouldn’t discuss with some of your friends. That’s just a fact. You probably wouldn’t gush about boys or girls with your grandma, and you wouldn’t ask your friends in sophomore year for help setting up a bank account. Ever since Honeymaren, Anna had been careful not to burden Elsa too much. She didn’t tell her about her falling-out with her best friend, Kristoff, or about her doubts and anxieties concerning college. Right now, Elsa needed peace and support.

Likewise, some matters belonged in the therapist’s office, and not in family dinners. 

Anna wasn’t easily scared. This wasn’t fear. It was logic. It was making the smartest decision. Doing the right thing for the people you love. 

Doing the dishes was soothing. Under the hard splash of the water, she could almost drown out the memory of the boy’s words (“You do know you’re obvious, right? Does she know you’re this obsessed with her?”) and the rough rain hitting the roof. It was getting louder. Heavier. She wondered if power would go out. She wondered if her parents were alright half a city away.

“We should call them before heading to bed,” Elsa commented. Anna’s twisted mind extrapolated some very wicked thoughts out of Elsa’s wording.

“Y-yeah,” she agreed, and her mind couldn’t come up with anything smarter to say, so she bit her lip and decided to leave it at that instead of clumsily rambling and risking saying something she didn’t mean. 

Elsa waited for her to finish washing. It was awkward. Of the two, Anna was the only one who knew how to maintain a conversation (under normal circumstances, but sharing space with Elsa hadn’t felt like a normal circumstance in a very long time). So, Elsa, unable to come up with a thing to say, simply paced around the kitchen until Anna was done. She didn’t know why. Anna wasn’t providing much of a spectacle. 

They headed to bed a few minutes later. A strong wind had joined the rain in their torment, and they both mockingly swirled around the house and scratched the walls and windows with their twig-claws and their cloud-shawls. If you looked out the window, you wouldn’t see an inch of asphalt on the streets: they were completely hidden by a glistening layer of rainwater. If you opened the window, you’d hear the vertiginous slosh of water against water. When Anna was fourteen, she and her family had gone to see the Niagara Falls (Elsa had held her hand the entire time), and the sheer thunderous loudness could put this city rainfall to shame, but it was the closest comparison Anna could find. It was harsh. It was maddening. It was growing louder and Anna’s gut was twisted into a tighter and tighter knot. 

She gulped and decided not to look out the window.

She shot Elsa a quick half-assed goodbye and locked herself in her room, and then she sighed.

Safe at last.

Her room was a mess, but it was her mess. The kind of mess you would describe as encrypted data if you knew how encrypted data worked. Whatever. The point was that only Anna, with the use of her unique knowledge of her room’s jungle, could find lost phones, hairbands and socks among the piles of clothes and half-finished paper crafts scattered around the floor and on the carpet, which had been folded in half when Anna tripped over it, and she’d never brought herself to fix it. The boy band posters and continental maps on her wall were all about to fall off and her poor Duolingo Owl plushie somehow ended up under her bed. She rescued him, sat cross-legged on her bed, and hugged him to her chest, seeking some warmth and comfort. It… it was growing quite cold. She’d need to find another blanket. Somewhere.

She sent her parents a quick goodnight text, read some Supernatural fanfiction on her phone for a few minutes, and gave another try to her Duolingo course after being harassed by the feral green bird a little. She tried everything to distract herself from this odd empty feeling in her stomach.

It wasn’t that she was scared. Okay, sure: the loud whistling wind and the heavy rain did make her nervous, but that was ridiculous. She had no reason why. The one time her family had been stuck in a storm like this, they’d been driving down the road, in the dark, in the rain. A light flashed before them (a driver with broken headlights), and her dad hit the brakes. The wheels slid across the water. He lost control for a moment, her mother yelped, the car accelerated out of control and…

And then her father took control again. He’d steered the wheel in just the right way and drove them home safely. Anna didn’t even remember being scared back then. It had been like a rollercoaster for her, and she loved those. 

Her sister didn’t deal with it as nicely. She had an anxiety attack and refused to get in the car for the following week. Anna had decided to join her mutiny in solidarity, and they ended up walking to school together for some time. Anna wasn’t sure how she did it, but her mere presence and support seemed to calm Elsa’s nerves, even if they were only eleven and fourteen at the time, and neither knew what to do in scary situations.

Funnily enough, Anna wouldn’t say she knew any better at eighteen. Elsa was older, so hopefully she did. Hopefully, she’d figured out the way. 

Those were the main thoughts coursing through her mind when she heard her sister knock on her door.

“Anna? Are you awake?”

Anna… kind of froze. She gripped her plushie and faced the side of her room opposite to the door. Oh, what should she say? Was Elsa worried? Had she given her a reason to worry?

“No, I’m not!” Anna shouted back. Yes, alright. That would communicate she was awake if Elsa needed her, but she didn’t want to get up, all tied up with a little bit of humor to quell whatever anxieties were tormenting her big sister this time.

Anna’s anxieties, however? They squeezed her heart like a hand. Squeeze and release. Squeeze and release. Like a stress ball. Pounding blood. Into her ears. It was harsh and maddening.

A pause.

“I just wanted to say… if you need anything, I’ll be in my room.”

Anna nodded, even though Elsa couldn’t see her.

“Thanks!” 

Her own voice sounded so loud. So hysteric. Was she hysteric? She felt hysteric. Too loud. She was vaguely aware of Elsa’s footsteps retreating.

Her heart sprang painfully. She’d worried her. She didn’t mean to worry her, yet at the same time hearing her leave only filled her with deeper desperation. The wind howled outside. It shook the whole house. Rain seeped through every nook and cranny. Power would go out. Anna was sure of it. What if a cable post was knocked down by the wind? What if a tree did? There was one right next to Anna’s room. If the wind blew in just the right way it could crush her. 

She curled deeper into her covers. Oh, how she wished Elsa had kicked down the door and entered Anna’s room unannounced. She wished Elsa had stayed with her.

There had been a time in which Anna felt very safe in her sister’s arms, before she started to turn into something else. Back then, her hugs felt so warm and gentle and loving, like nothing could harm her as long as she stayed there. With time, her brain began to give them a different resignify them into something less wholesome. Something more… erotic. Anna couldn’t remember the last time she’d dared to embrace her sister.

When had that happened? Was it when Anna was in middle school and she began to admire her sister a bit more than usual for girls her age? Did she turn into what she was now when she realized what it meant? Was she born with it?

Anna was a brave girl, but the idea of being “born with it” was the most terrifying of all.

“You’re so obvious, Anna.”

It was stronger than her.

A low rumble in the distance. Loud. Louder. Followed by a flashing light.

Her heart stopped. Lungs stopped. Throat dried. Wind screamed and Branches rattled. Her muscles burned with tension as she gripped her plushie to her chest.

…Well, Elsa wasn’t coming for her. But she did offer an invitation. And… and she wouldn’t have to do anything. Anna would just sit there. In her room. It wasn’t odd or concerning for people to be anxious during storms. It was such a small and harmless weight to dump on Elsa’s shoulders, nothing at all like the words brewing at the bottom of Anna’s throat. Not a burden. Not something disturbing, scary, off-putting.

So she slid her legs off the bed, opened the door, and carefully tip-toed across the hallway, still holding the plushie, and then she knocked on Elsa’s door.

It took a moment.

“Come in.”

Anna sighed dramatically. She hesitated, but twisted the doorknob regardless and quietly slipped in.

Elsa’s room was nothing like hers. For starters, she had a huge periodic table on her wall. That should say enough about her place of dwelling. Still, cool science stuff aside, Anna could never help but notice the adorable baby pink bed covers on her bed, always so neatly laid, or her pristine wooden floors, the family photos hanging on the wall, on every spot free from scientific stuff and broadway posters. She had all of her hockey trophies arranged on a shelf, and a few embroidery supplies on her desk. On her bedside, there was a tiny door frame with a picture of her and Anna, on that Niagara Falls vacation. They looked so tiny and childish and innocent. 

Elsa was already in bed, but she was sitting up and turning on the bedside lamp as soon as Anna entered. She wore a slightly-too-flattering white nightgown. 

“Anna?” 

Her gentle raspy voice broke Anna out of her thoughts. She blinked.

“Uh?”

“Is everything alright?” Elsa asked. Her loose hair was flawless. How could her hair be so flawless?

“Y-you mean me? Yes! Yes, I’m… totally good,” she stammered, then shifted on her feet, wrung her hands together and said: “I just… I-it’s pretty rainy outside, isn’t it?”

Elsa opened her mouth to speak, but then another crash of thunder shook Anna’s eardrums, and next thing she knew, she was cowering under Elsa’s covers like a scared puppy. Head hidden and all. 

Her sister chuckled and stroked Anna’s head through the blankets.

“Are you still totally good?”

“…Maybe?” Anna squeaked. “I-I think I’ll be more good here.”

She could almost feel Elsa’s grin as her hand drifted down to pet Anna’s back.

“You know, I was wondering when we’d have a sleepover again,” she commented. “I worried you may think we’re too old for them.”

Anna’s head shot up from her blanket cocoon.

“What? You’re never too old for sleepovers!” She declared, at the outrageous claim. That got a laugh out of Elsa, and it was so beautiful and graceful, knowing she’d caused it made Anna’s heart soar.

“Then come here.” She laid down again, and Anna’s stomach flipped when she reached a hand across the bed and over her body. Eyes wide, brain dead, she could barely process what was going on until Elsa asked: “Do you want me to turn off the light?”

Oh. Oh, right. Yeah. The light.

Anna nodded. The whole goal was to fall asleep, after all. She, uh, she’d be fine without the light.

The lights went out with a click. 

Elsa settled in bed. 

Anna exhaled. 

Without any sound other than Elsa’s breathing, the swoosh of the leaves and the whistling of the wind felt louder. There were more trees on Elsa’s side. No shit they were louder. Their branches swatted and scratched the poor tortured window.

The thunder was getting closer.

It echoed louder every time. Closer every time. And it sounded more angry and violent than before. Anna’s heart found solace in Elsa’s closeness but it still wasn’t enough. 

Elsa seemed unaware of Anna’s growing restlessness. She needed a bit more.

“Elsa?” She whispered. Her sister hummed in response— a question. Anna could hear herself say the words in her mind but they sounded so pathetic and obvious she couldn’t bring herself to pronounce them— sisters didn’t say these things—, so instead, she just scooched closer, still hugging the plushie close as a barrier between her and Elsa, and an excuse to not wrap her arms around her. She timidly tucked her head under her chin.

Shame hit her right away— she was taking advantage of her sister’s ignorance. If she knew the truth, she’d never let her so close. Your family was meant to be your safe place. A refuge where you weren’t seen as a meal or an object of desire. Was this not the greatest form of betrayal? When you sought your family for safety and comfort, and they crossed the ultimate line by… by…

Elsa sighed and wrapped her arms around Anna, pulling her close. One of her hands delicately tangled into her hair.

For a moment, there was silence. And warmth. An unbreakable sense of love and security. All Anna could hear was Elsa’s beating heart and her breathing. Then, a kiss on the top of her hair.

“It’s okay, Anna,” she murmured. Anna blinked. Then blinked again. She opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t say a word. Elsa squeezed her tighter. “I got you,”

Anna’s eyes brimmed with tears. She held her breath and covered her mouth. It wasn’t true. It wasn’t right. Elsa didn’t know and she couldn’t know. It would hurt her so much, and all Anna wanted was to see her happy. And saying it out loud would mean it was true. That she could no longer hide from it. She had truly turned into something unredeemable. 

She thought of that photo of them, when they were little. 

When had that changed? When had she changed?

She shouldn’t be so close to her. This had been a huge mistake.

She sniffled.

“I’m sorry.”

She barely heard herself over the sound of rushing blood in her ears.

Elsa stiffened.

“For what?”

She sounded curious and worried at the same time, and Anna really should have shut her mouth, really shouldn’t have said anything at all. She was a hypocrite. She knew bringing this up was a horrible thing to do. 

“Is it because you came looking for me?” Elsa asked. Now Anna had to give her answers. Any kind of answer. She shouldn’t. She shouldn’t tell anything to anyone. This was her burden to carry and forcing someone else beneath it was cruel. 

She nodded. Elsa’s hand kneaded her shoulder.

“You don’t have to be sorry for that.”

Anna shrugged her shoulders up to her ears. She was a hypocrite. A hypocrite. She remembered that time on a week-long school trip when, texting Elsa late into the night, she’d asked her if he was okay. Was she okay? Realization of her feelings had hit right as she was leaving and it now plagued her every thought like a leech latched onto her heart. She couldn’t tear them out. The trip was supposed to be fun but all she could do was roll her thoughts over in her head, disseminating them like frogs, desperately trying to find proof that she was still herself, that she wasn’t changing, that she could have these feelings for someone else, that he could have a future. And then Elsa sent her a text— “I miss you”— and Anna couldn’t keep her hands to herself. She shouldn’t have replied at all. But they talked and talked and talked until Elsa noticed something was off and asked about it and Anna wrote “I’m just scared because I feel something I shouldn’t and I always thought I was good and clean and safe to be around but I’m scared I may be sick and gross and I don’t know what to do I think I may die if this is true and I don’t want anyone to know and I’m so sorry I’m scaring you with this I shouldn’t be telling you this at all and I feel like a hypocrite telling you all of this—.”

She’d deleted the whole wall of text.

“I’m just a bit sleepy.”

Then she tried to go to sleep. 

It should have been enough, shouldn’t it? Putting her thoughts into words helped her down the panic spike. Coming back home wasn’t as torturous as she’d feared. Seeing her sister wasn’t paralyzing or incapacitating. They could still play Mario Kart and watch bad Netflix originals together and sometimes, she could convince herself she’d been scared for nothing. The intensity dissipated. She felt safe again.

Then the panic came back. 

Lightning flashed again and her whole body tensed up, as if struck herself. Elsa’s hand rubbed circles on her back. 

“Anna,” she said. “Are you sure that’s all?”

Anna’s breath hitched. 

“I-I…”

She couldn’t.

Elsa wouldn’t force her. She knew that. Anna only had to say she didn’t want to talk about it, and she’d drop it. She had the power here. 

Yet her jaw was stuck open.

She heard thunder again. She’d come into Elsa’s bed in her own volition. She didn’t feel scared of thunder in her arms.

She could drop it. She could let the panic spike pass, but it would always come back, until she left forever (hopefully), until Elsa was nothing but a painful distant memory, but that wouldn’t make any of them any happier. A gaping wound left untreated. 

No! No! She couldn’t tell her the truth! She couldn’t admit to being the kind of person who shows up in the news for others to morbidly gawk at, the kind of people who hurt their own flesh and blood, who hurt the people who trusted them the most. Her sister would try her damn hardest but she’d never be able to look at her in the same way. She wasn’t just ill. She was becoming part of the illness itself. It defined her whether she liked it or not. 

She’d never tell anyone. But if she never told anyone, she feared the illness would never heal. That the panic would never go away for good. Oh, it would be so much easier if Elsa forced her to confess, if she had no choice at all. She wanted her to knock down her door, insist until Anna had nowhere to escape and then embrace her and promise she’d love her forever, regardless of what Anna changed into. 

But Elsa didn’t insist after her original question. She waited silently for Anna to speak.

And someday, she’d stop asking, because she knew Anna wouldn’t reply.

One day, she’d stop knocking on her door and wait for Anna to come looking for her instead.

One day, she may even believe Anna was alright, and withdraw her offer of support. Then what kind of terrifying things would Anna have to do to feel her arms around her again?

Was that what she wanted?

Yes.

No.

No. 

One of her hands released the plushie and gripped Elsa’s nightgown.

“I need to tell you something,” she choked out.

Elsa’s hand on her back stopped.

“I’m here,” she reassured her, and Anna nearly sobbed.

She inhaled very deeply.

“I had a talk with this boy at school today, and I’ve been thinking about it all day.” She screwed her eyes shut. “I think there’s something wrong with me. F-for some time. I feel things that aren’t like me. Like… Like they’re things someone else would feel. And what does that say about me!?”

“I’m… sorry, I don’t think I understand,” Elsa said.

“Right,” Anna sniffled. “I’m sorry. I know this is coming out of nowhere and…”

“No, no, no!” Elsa quickly sat up and turned on the bedside lamp. “I want to hear you. What do you need?”

Anna’s heart swelled with love. How could she so easily capture her affections all over again?

She sat up with her. Their legs dangled down the bed. Elsa had some very pretty legs.

“I…” her heart pounded so quickly. “I feel things that are… wrong. And I don’t know how I could have these feelings! I really don’t want them. I want…” She wanted to be good. At school, at home, with her friends, she wanted to be the funny one. The cute one. The kind one. This huge stain in her heart changed that. It made her feel like a liar. “I feel like I’m not… me. Like this is so wrong I-I’m gonna disappear.”

Elsa breathed, slowly.

“It feels like a loss of identity,” she concluded. 

Anna nodded. A complete loss of the self. 

“Exactly,” she exhaled. Then she gulped. Her heart punished her ribs and it hurt but it had been easier than she thought.

A huge weight was lifted off her shoulders.

Elsa frowned, and looked Anna in the eye.

“Anna… listen. Whatever it is that you’re feeling, you’re still you.”

Her gaze was piercing and hard and protective and Anna could feel her throat go dry.

“But…”

“No. I want you to listen.” Elsa grasped her hands, and only then seemed to notice the plushie Anna had brought along. She smiled at it. “Do you remember why I got you this?”

“Because you were making fun of me?”

“Only slightly. I saw it in a store and remembered how excited you were about learning korean for your boy bands.”

“Their music is good! People are just mean.”

Elsa chuckled. They’d gone over it a million times already.

“I remember how you went over twelve different instruments in elementary school, until you discovered you preferred singing. I wish you would sing to me someday.”

Anna’s face burned. 

“That would be very embarrassing.”

“I think you would be lovely.”

She had to duck her head and avoid Elsa’s gaze this time.

“You always liked arts and crafts, too. But you want to study social sciences in college. You always loved history, too. I still have that book about brave women of history somewhere. You had me read Joan D’Arc’s story out loud before you could read on your own. That one was always your favorite. You also kept a spider as a pet below your bed for a month because you said spiders deserved love, too, and you have maps hanging on your room because you want to travel the world, and you’re still deciding where to go on your gap year.” Elsa brushed her cheek with the back of her knuckles. Her stomach twisted and leaped. It was vertiginous. “You’re so much more than what you think you may feel, and I don’t think you’ve changed at all.” She tucked her hair behind her ear— “You’re so beautiful, Anna—,” and took a deep breath. “It’s why I fell in love with you.”

Anna blinked. Then frowned. Her mouth opened and closed. She looked at Elsa looking for a hint that she may be kidding but she looked so serious and shy and hopeful— but she was into acting after all, wasn’t she?

Anna coughed. 

“Thank you.”

Elsa gave her a confused look.

“For what?”

“For trying to make me feel better”

Her frown deepened.

“You think I’m lying to you?”

Crap.

“Wait, what? That's… wait, that’s not what I meant.”

“I’m trying to be honest with you!”

Anna shook her head.

“But… but…” 

Elsa watched her, waiting. She was so elegant and regal and beautiful and human. 

“But you’re so perfect!”

Elsa averted her gaze.

“I’d doubt that,” she said. Her chest heaved. “I’m… Anna, I’m telling you this because… hold on, I’m understanding this correctly, right?” Fear crossed her eyes. “You feel the same way?”

Anna’s brain whirred like a train out of rail.

“Y-you mean…?”

Elsa nodded.

She gulped. Her stomach sank with shame. She covered her face.

“I didn’t want you to find out.”

“No, no, I’m…” Elsa vacillated. She was just as lost. “I’m glad you told me.”

…Okay, alright, alright. Anna needed to take a deep breath. And drink some water.

“I’m gonna get some water,” she said.

It took her like half an hour to find a bottle (one she wisely spent internally freaking out, because her sister felt the same way hersisterfeltthesamewayhersisterfeltthesameway), and when she returned, Elsa was right where she left her, sitting on her bed, staring at the periodic table on her wall and quietly reciting each element to calm herself down.

She had no business being so adorable.

“…So, you feel the same way?” Elsa asked a few moments later, after they both exchanged the bottle a few times.

“Yeah,” Anna replied. It felt thrilling and terrifying and liberating to say it out loud. “And you’re not…?”

“I’m not lying to make you feel better,” Elsa promised, leaning in and smiling at her. “I-I truly can’t believe it.”

Anna choked on her water, like a genius hersisterfeltthesameway—

“I can’t believe it either.”

She nearly jumped out of her skin when Elsa’s hand fell on hers, and it took her a second to realize this was permission— an invitation— her sister felt the same way— and she was allowed to squeeze back. 

“W-what does this mean?” She asked. “I mean… what now?”

“It doesn’t mean we need to be in a relationship,” Elsa stated. The mere mention of a relationship nearly gave Anna a heart attack (the good kind). “We should… We should think things through. Take our time.” She glanced at the curtains. “It’s late. We can talk in the morning.”

“Y-yeah. You’re right.”

Neither of them moved. 

Then, Elsa’s thumb trailed over Anna’s cheekbone, shily brushed over her chin. Warmth spread across Anna’s stomach and heart, and under Elsa’s loving, approving gaze, for once she felt like herself.

Her sister felt the same way.

“Can I kiss you?”

It was an unexpected surge of courage— she must be high on it. The words felt like dipping below the waves, like the vertigo of looking over the railing and watching the water fall.

Elsa smiled, shyly, nervously, and with a hooked finger guided Anna forward.

She’d never touched something so soft, so kind and gentle. She’d never felt so safe and loved. 

“You’re still you.”

Still me.

She tightened her grip on Elsa’s hand. 

The kiss was chaste. They pulled away. Hearts racing. So quickly. So loudly. They couldn’t even hear the rain.

Elsa beamed.

“Come on.” She tugged at her hand. “Let’s go to sleep.”

Perhaps it was raining outside. Anna couldn’t hear it. She could only hear Elsa’s rapid happy heart against her ear. Her eyes misted over but for an entirely new reason. She squeezed her sister’s waist.

“I love you, Elsa.”

She could almost hear Elsa’s heart picking up speed.

“I love you too.”

#elsanna #submission #june 2021 contest #prompt: storm #cw: angst

[hearteyesbowen]

hey can you do a joshua imagine where the reader is having a really bad day and he just comforts and spoils her? thank u sm

hold me closer ☆ joshua bassett

josh decides there is only one logical thing to do when y/n is having one of the most stressful days of her life

warnings: fluff

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Soft tunes coming from your car radio ran through your ears, your head leaning back against the headrest. You had already ran out of tears, now you just sat restlessly, focusing on your breathing and calming your heart rate. Your forehead and cheeks were damp, you couldn’t tell if it was sweat from the heat radiating through the vehicle or from the cries wiped across your face. Strands of your hair lay in different directions, mostly because of how much you shuffled it in your hands out of frustration.

It had been almost an hour since you came home from school, the day filled with anger-inducing teachers giving lectures and annoying classmates who couldn’t let you focus on your own work. Homework assignments and class work with no decent explanation on how to answer being piled on top of each other, and a pop quiz that you barely understand and bombed completely. At least it’s friday?

Pulling out your phone, you stared at your lock screen for a few seconds before it turned back off; it was Josh sitting on a tree branch, waving at you with his signature smile. A small smile swept across your face, then with a loud huff, you decide to text him.

Y/N

can i come over? i’m not feeling too great

Within a few seconds, you saw his name pop up onto your screen with a loud ding.

Joshy 💕

you don’t have to ask, hurry up!

You grabbed your backpack that was thrown into the passenger’s seat and opened your door. Fumbling with the keys in your hands, you unlocked your front door and trudged to your room. You left your school backpack by your bed and looked for your other bag. You didn’t have to worry about bringing extra clothes, some of yours were left at his house in case you wanted to sleep over. Before leaving, you told your mother you would stay at Josh’s house for the night, and quickly made your way to your car.

➢➣ ➢➣

Walking up the path to Josh’s house only made you grow more hungry for some sort of interaction that wasn’t an adult or stranger. You hadn’t realized how much you’ve missed seeing your boyfriend these past few days. School has been slowly taking over your life and you barely realized how much you have ignored him.

Once you reached the front door, you lifted your hand to knock, but instead you were taken back when the door swung open before you could touch it. Josh was standing inside, a worried smile and flushed cheeks.

“I was waiting for you by the window, I got excited to see you.”

Suddenly you couldn’t form any words. Your throat was dry and you felt your breathing halt. Your vision slowly got cloudy, and your legs began to feel unsteady.

Josh noticed immediately and grabbed onto your waist, bringing you into his chest. Your arms flew to wrap around his shoulders as you buried your head into his neck. He made sure to hold you tightly, worried that you would fall. His hands rubbed up and down your back, trying to soothe you as you sobbed into him. He didn’t dare to let go, he had been wanting to hold you again but didn’t think it would be like this. You slowly lifted your head, looking up at his somber expression. One of his hands moved up to your face, wiping away the wet trails left behind and moving hair from your face to behind your ear. His lips came to touch your forehead, letting his kiss linger for a few seconds.

“You want to sit down and tell me what’s wrong?” His voice was barely a whisper.

You nodded your head, making Josh dip down to scoop you up from under your legs and carrying you as if you were his bride. He carefully walked to his room, trying not to move too quickly to prevent a possible headache or dizziness.

Once he sat down on his bed, you now sitting on his lap, he leaned down to kiss your cheek. A small blush formed on your cheeks, already making you feel better.

“Tell me everything, sweetheart.”

You let out a slow breath, reaching out for his free hand and playing with his fingers.

“I’ve just been having the worst few days recently. All my teachers make me so mad and I’m just not understanding any of the work we’ve been doing and I’m scared to ask them for help because they might get mad at me for being too dumb and I’m scared that I’ll fail all my classes and we have so much work that I can’t keep up with and my classmates are just the most annoying people ever and I don’t know what to do.”

You began to hyperventilate, quickly feeling the stres rush through you again. Josh held onto you tighter, pulling you as close as he could while he rubbed your arms. You tried your best to calm yourself down, preventing yourself from crying again.

“And I feel so bad for not texting you back as quickly or not being able to answer your calls because I was trying to do my work and I’ve just been a terrible girlfriend-”

“No, don’t say that, you’re literally the perfect girl. I’m not going to be mad at you for doing homework and trying to learn, I know it’s tough.” He smiled down at you, trying to make you feel better. “I love you, ok? You’re here now, and it’s the weekend, so I’ll take care of you.”

“I love you, Joshy.”

Your hands crept up to hold his cheeks as you leaned in, planting your lips on his. It was nothing too rough or passionate, but slow and gentle. His smile peaked through, making you follow. Oh, how you’ve missed this.

He pulled away, leaving his forehead on yours. “I’ll be back, I’m going to get you some water and something to eat.” He carefully set you down on his bed, quickly running to the other side to grab his teddy bear. “Franklin will keep you company while I’m gone.”

You giggled as he gave you the bear, clutching it tightly to your chest. It smelled somewhat like him, probably because you knew he slept with it every night, as much as he denies it. He sprinted out of the room, his footsteps loud enough for you to hear from downstairs.

Ten minutes went by, and you started to wonder what this boy could be doing. That is, until you heard something drop and a small curse from behind the slightly open door. You watched as his door was slowly pushed open, showing his back. He turned around and you couldn’t help but smile at what he was holding.

“I didn’t know what you were craving at the moment, so I just brought a picnic basket with all your favorite things.” He said proudly.

You patted the area next to you, motioning for him to sit with him. He skipped to the other side, climbing onto the bed with you. The basket was set in between you two, and he rubbed his hands excitedly before he opened it.

“I brought water and lemonade, some chocolate from that one candy store you really like, some chips just in case you wanted something salty, and some fruit so it feels like we’re eating healthy.” He exclaimed, showing you each of the items.

His eyes brightened, as if he gained another idea. He jumped off from the bed and ran to the other side of the room, searching through one of his drawers. He pulled out a pink candle and some matches.

“Why do you keep matches in your room?” You wondered, watching as he turned off the lights and placed the candle next to you on his bedside table.

He picked up a match and striked it against the box, erupting a bright fire and putting it along the candle wick. “I bought some after I bought this candle.”

You blew out the match as he held it closer to you, laughing as he fanned the smoke coming to his face. He grabbed his laptop from his desk and went back to sit down next to you on his bed.

“We’ll watch some movies together, too. I’m going to make sure that you feel real better really soon.”

As Josh opened Netflix and quickly picked a random movie, you picked up a grape from the basket and looked at him giddily. He sat up and opened his mouth, letting you throw it at him. The fruit his forehead, causing the both of you to laugh.

He scooted closer to you, opening his arms for you to cuddle him. You snuggled up to his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso and his around your shoulder. Nothing else mattered as he held you closer, just you and him laying down, laughing and spending much needed quality time.

You looked up from the movie after a few minutes, taking in the sight in front of you. His smile made you turn warm. His eyes glanced between yours and your lips, until he leaned down to kiss you once again. Your hands went to his cheeks as his moved to your waist, his kiss deepening as the white noise from the movie slowly blurred out.

Yeah, you could get used to relaxing like this.

A/N - hi im back . im still so sorry for leaving and stuff but hey im back now and slowly releasing these really late requests . if u want to know what happened i made a post on saturday so go check that if u want idk . but anyways i hope u like this one, love y’all so so much xx

taglist - @love-joshy @mzzjads

#ricky bowen imagine #ricky bowen x reader #ricky bowen #ricky bowen blurbs #ricky bowen fluff #ricky bowen angst #ricky bowen oneshot #joshua bassett x reader #joshua bassett imagine #joshua bassett #joshua bassett oneshot #joshua bassett blurbs #joshua bassett fluff #joshua bassett angst #hsmtmts imagine #hsmtmts

[bluesey-182]

We Have To Stop Meeting Like This - Chapter 13

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / ao3

it’s been a very long time, but at last,,, here’s an update. also, the end of this chapter gets NSFW so i will not be tagging anyone in this post, i will however continue to tag everyone that has asked to be tagged in the next chapter.

--------

Jude was tuning out every noise around her in statistics class. The professor, a young man barely out of university himself, looking thoroughly hungover that morning, had divided them up into small groups for some group project, though what that project was Jude had no idea. She kept trying to convince herself to pay attention but her mind was elsewhere. Absentmindedly, she tapped her pencil against the palm of her hand while her feet tapped a different beat under the desk. When she woke up that morning she had considered staying home, given what day it was and the emotions it tended to bring up, but her tenuous grade in this class had ultimately made the decision for her.

“June?” One of her classmates asked, waving his hand in front of her face to get her attention. “Are you even listening?”

She considered biting his hand but settled for swatting it out of her face. “My name is Jude.”

The idiot kept talking but movement at the door in the front of the classroom caught her eye. The door was propped open, the professor unaware given he was facedown on his desk, and standing there, looking like a cruel prince from a wicked storybook, was Cardan. His black jeans ended into his untied high top converse, his matte-black shirt with silky designs on it was unbuttoned at the top and rolled up at the sleeves, and his hair was a glorious mess. He had put on gold eyeliner that morning and Jude felt her stomach tighten pleasantly. As she stared, he finally found her sitting in the back of the room and gave her a wicked smile before indicating with a wave that she should come out into the hallway with him. She made a face that hopefully conveyed that he was an imbecile for expecting her to leave class when there was still half an hour left, and in return he made a face that dared her to do it anyway.

“Well then Jude you still didn’t answer my question,” her classmate continued, ignoring the conversation happening between her and Cardan spoken solely with their faces.

She really wanted to punch this guy. Another look at Cardan showed an amused smile as he eyed the classmate sitting next to her, a knowing look in his eyes that Jude was probably going to murder him in the next minute. 

Maybe the universe had sent Cardan to save this kid's miserable life from her ending it.

“Actually,” Jude said as she scooped her notebook and pen into her backpack, “I have to go, um,” Cardan was laughing silently to himself and it was very distracting, “go water my…. goldfish,” she finished absentmindedly before bolting towards the door. Her professor, popping a handful of ibuprofen into his mouth, didn’t seem to notice.

Once out in the hall, Cardan let the door slide closed behind them before taking her face in his hands and giving her a gentle kiss that made her heart soar. 

“Hey, you,” he said after taking the smallest step away.

“I was in class, what do you want?”

“From the looks of it, you were about to commit a felony on some poor, unexpecting dimwit. I am merely saving you from your least favorite class and, possibly, prison.”

“I can’t afford to fail this class, Cardan,” Jude said with no real heat.

“I’ll help you with the homework.” Jude glared at him, knowing how much of a pain in the ass he was when he “helped” her with her homework. “So why are you dragging me out of class?” 

Cardan’s face lit up like he had almost forgotten and then he started patting down all his pockets while mumbling to himself. Finally he pulled a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and presented it to her like a magician would present a flower. “Because, my dear, I have a very important question for you.”

Feeling confused, Jude took the paper from his open palm and unfolded it. It was almost entirely blank except for the question “do you like me?” with two boxes to check yes or no. Jude rolled her eyes. “You’re absolutely ridiculous.” With a flourish, Cardan produced a pen from his same back pocket and blinked at her innocently. “I’m not answering.” At her words Cardan gave her a sad face that was entirely fake. With a huff, Jude snatched the pen from his hand and checked the box next to yes.

“You make me swoon, Jude,” Cardan teased.

“You really interrupted my class for this?”

“What? Oh, no, I interrupted your class because a little birdy told me,” he sidled up and smoothly pulled her into him, “that today is your birthday.”

Jude’s mood soured ever so slightly. “What little birdy?”

“Mm,” Cardan hummed as he kissed her neck. Goosebumps rose all over her body.

“Nice try,” she said, placing a hand on his chest and gently pushing him and his lips a safe distance away from her. “What little birdy, Cardan.”

He relented, “Your sister.”

“You’ve been talking to Taryn?” Instead of answering her question, Cardan gave Jude a withering look. “Oh. Right. You’re friends with Vivi. But so what if it’s my birthday? I don’t really celebrate.”

“So I was told,” Cardan said lightly as he took her hand in his and started guiding her towards the back exit of the building. “Which is exactly why I’m snatching you out of class to spend the day with me.”

“That sounds more like a birthday treat for you, not me.”

“You wound me Jude, you really do. But I promise I’ll make it worthwhile for you as well.”

It was a surprisingly warm day for mid-November. They were driving with the windows down, Jude’s hand hanging out the window and lazily surfing the breeze, Cardan singing out of time with the music playing on the radio. Despite the depression Jude’s birthday tended to bring on, a wave of peace washed over her as she turned her head to look at Cardan. Instead of wearing his sunglasses to block the bright sun, he was currently using them as a headband to keep his floppy hair out of his face while he drove, though it wasn’t proving to be very effective. The wind swept his hair about and every so often a piece of it would slap him in the face.

“So where are we going?” Jude asked for the fifth time since they had gotten into the car. They had driven out of town and were now on a country road full of trees displaying the last of their leaves before winter washed the world of color. Instead of answering Jude’s question, Cardan gave her a lopsided grin in response and took her hand in his free one. 

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it?” Cardan finally said after Jude released a long, drawn out breath.

“I hate surprises,” she mumbled. 

“It’ll be fun,” Cardan insisted.

“I hate you.”

“Liar.”

“Miscreant.”

“Bully.”

“Baby.”

“Yes, darling?” Cardan replied.

“No, I was calling you a baby,” explained Jude. The smirk Cardan tried to suppress showed that Jude had walked right into that one. 

“I do so love it when you call me pet names,” Cardan continued. “Makes me feel all warm and gooey inside. Like a pie left out in the sun.”

“You shouldn’t leave pies out in the sun, birds will eat them.”

“Well I am such a goddamn snack…” Cardan trailed off as Jude began to laugh.

“Says you.”

“Darling, have you seen this ass?”

“Alright,” Jude laughed, “if you’re a snack what does that make me?”

“A four-course meal,” Cardan said as if that were obvious. “Now, if you will direct your attention to your right you will see we have arrived at our destination. Please do not feed the animals and remember the rules of being out in nature: leave no trace and take no prisoners. Sunscreen will not be provided and if a bear attacks you’re on your own.”

Jude looked out the window as Cardan pulled into a mostly empty dirt parking lot in front of a state park. Trees obscured the view beyond the opening of the main path, some of the autumnal colored leaves still clinging to their branches. Stepping out of the car, Jude was greeted by a kind of calming quiet one never got in civilization. The air smelled cleaner than Jude thought should be possible and the shining sun chased away any chills that the season tried to bring on. Birds that hadn’t yet made their migration sang from the trees, different melodies coalescing into a symphony of sounds.

It was beautiful.

The sound of a trunk door closing turned Jude’s attention to where Cardan had just pulled a basket from the trunk of his car. He watched her with a small smile and bright eyes as she took in their surroundings.

“If you brought me out here to murder me,” Jude joked, “I must say I approve of the scenery.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, clearly I brought you out here to paint you nude in nature like a faerie queen.”

“Are you saying you’ll be painting in the nude, or I’ll be nude in the painting?”

With a chuckle, Cardan tapped Jude on the tip of her nose and smiled brightly. “I like the way you think. Perhaps both. Or perhaps we’ll skip the painting entirely and just get naked. Shall we?” Cardan indicated the path with a flourish and they began walking hand in hand through the tree lined path.

“I think we should skip,” Cardan observed. “We don’t skip nearly enough as adults.”

“Skipping implies levity, and how can one be joyous when they’re drowning in college debt?”

“You really know how to ruin my fun, Jude. You can be quite cruel. And yet… I find it turns me on.”

Jude rolled her eyes. Something Cardan had said earlier had just begun to register in her mind. “Hey, what the fuck does leave no trace and take no prisoners mean?”

“What?”

“When we first got here,” Jude explained, “You said ‘leave no trace and take no prisoners.’”

“Oh, right. Leave no trace means that you should leave things how you find it, stay on the trail, yada yada yada.”

“I’m not familiar with ‘yada yada yada.’”

“Hush, my darling,” tutted Cardan before continuing with his explanation. “And ‘take no prisoners’ means that you don’t take anything out of nature. Like a pretty rock or a dead squirrel or a mushroom that has the potential to be psychedelic.” 

“Yes, those are precisely the trinkets I want as souvenirs,” Jude teased. Cardan only shrugged his shoulders and melted her heart with his smile.

“This way,” he said, gently leading her down a narrower path. After almost thirty minutes of walking they emerged into a clearing of grass overlooking a small waterfall flowing down a face of rocks and a pool of water surrounded by blue flowers. Mesmerized, Jude crept up to the bank of forget-me-nots and stared at her reflection mirrored in the pool of water. All sound seemed to be muffled in the little clearing, the perfect circle of grass separating the forest from the little pond. It felt magical and Jude stole a glance at Cardan. 

“How did you find this place?” She asked.

Instead of answering, Cardan set down the basket in his arms and pulled a checkered blanket from its depths. He placed the folded blanket over one arm like a tea towel and held his finger to his face in imitation of a mustache. “Will the lady be dining alone today?” He asked in a horrible french accent.

“Yes. Yes, she will.”

“I’m afraid I must insist on joining you.”

“Mmm. No thanks.”

Cardan laughed and it was warmer than sunlight. “Will you let me join you if I promise never to talk in that accent again?”

Jude pretended to consider this for a moment. “I suppose,” she dragged out, running her eyes along the length of his body. “You would make for rather handsome company.”

With a grin, Cardan whipped open the blanket and laid it out on the grass with a bit of theatrics, indicating with a slight bow and an extended hand that Jude should sit. After joining her on the blanket, Cardan opened the basket once again and peered inside.

“I hope you like the concept of food more than actually eating it because I forgot to actually pack any,” he said seriously. 

“Cardan!”

“I’m joking, I’m joking!” He held his hands up in surrender and laughed as Jude attempted to toss a nearby leaf in his face. “Let’s see what we’ve actually got in here, shall we?” And so he proceeded to produce fresh bread, soft cheeses, fancy meats, a variety of fruits, and chocolate pastries from the basket. After laying out their feast, he then pulled plastic plates, two cups, and a bottle of grape juice from the bottom of the picnic basket.

“Why grape juice?” Jude asked with a laugh.

“Because, darling, I have to drive and I know you’re not big on alcohol. But I still wanted to stick to the spirit of things, hence the grape juice instead of wine.”

“You really thought of everything.”

“Yes, well,” Cardan released a labored breath, faking humility, “I am rather thoughtful.”

Jude rolled her eyes and leaned in to catch Cardan’s mouth with her own. The kiss finally shut him up and he cradled the sides of her face in his hands, gently tugging her closer until she was nearly in his lap. He deepened the kiss, turning it from something soft to something desperate as Jude ran her hands through his hair. She caught his bottom lip between her teeth and bit down, causing him to release a shaky breath into her mouth. Cardan’s hands slid down to grip her hips and pull her into his lap so she was straddling him as they continued to kiss until they were breathless. Jude knew if she didn’t stop now, they really would both end up naked like Cardan had claimed. Reluctantly, she drew back to look at him. His eyes, already nearly black to begin with, seemed even darker. She felt something pull deep in her abdomen at the sight of him. Maybe…? No, she resolved, not in public. Giving him one last kiss, Jude withdrew back to her spot on the blanket, Cardan’s hand reaching out to her with a look of desperation on his face. Lord help her, he was giving her those puppy dog eyes. 

With a laugh, she playfully swatted his hand away and said, “Later.”

As if to prove her point, the sounds of a family walking nearby with their giggling kids and barking dog drifted into their little nook.

Cardan sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Wouldn’t want to shock that poor family by ravaging each other right here in this very romantic alcove.”

After they finished eating, they ended up taking off their shoes and rolling up their pant legs to dangle their feet in the water. A frog croaked somewhere along the banks and birds flew to the water before darting away again. Beside her, Cardan laid back in the grass with his eyes closed.

“How did you even find this place?” Jude asked again softly.

Cardan opened his eyes and fixed them on Jude. “Sometimes I need to get away.”

“So you run to the woods?” Jude teased.

“Yes, obviously,” Cardan huffed as he sat up and nudged her with his shoulder. “Haven’t you ever wanted to become a forest cryptid after running away from society?”

Jude laughed. “No, I can’t say that I have.”

“You should try it sometime. Wailing in the woods is very cathartic.”

By the time they left the park, the sun was beginning to set. They had accidentally fallen asleep while staring up at the clouds and only woke up when Jude began drooling on Cardan’s stomach and he had woken up with a small shriek thinking there was a spider crawling on him. 

The car ride was pleasantly quiet, Jude’s head blissfully free of worries, Cardan’s thumb tracing circles along the back of her hand on the console between them. Jude had to admit it was a good birthday.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Cardan broke the silence. “Why don’t you celebrate your birthday?” The question was hesitant, leaving Jude the space to ignore it should she not want to share this little tidbit of her life. But after everything she’d already shared with Cardan, it seemed silly to hide this. Honestly, it was something she’d bottled up for so many years that she found the prospect of sharing it to be like lifting a weight off her chest.

“It makes me sad,” she replied barely above a whisper. “I miss my parents. Madoc always did something for our birthday but it wasn’t the same, you know? I miss the way my mom would squeeze us in her arms after we blew out the candles, and how my dad would try to take a picture but end up blinding us or himself with the flash. My mom loved those prank candles that would keep relighting after you blew them out and Taryn would shriek and I’d laugh and my dad would say I was going to be an arsonist if I didn’t get my fascination with fire under control.”

Cardan gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “They sound wonderful,” he said very quietly.

“They were.” Jude wiped a stray tear off her face and stared out the window as they lapsed back into silence.

From her back pocket, Jude’s phone started screaming it's ringtone at her, making her jump hard enough to bash her elbow into the car door. “Sonofabi--,” she exclaimed as she dug the phone from her jeans and answered it right before it went to voicemail. “Hello?”

“Where the fuck are you?” Vivi’s frantic voice filtered through the phone.

“What? Why, what’s going on?” Panic was starting to build in Jude’s chest and she saw her same fear reflected in Cardan’s gaze as he looked to her for what she needed from him.

“It’s your birthday!” Vivi said, like this explained everything. The worry in Jude’s chest dissolved into irritation.

“So?” 

“So?!” Vivi repeated. “So Taryn and I are already at Madoc’s for your birthday dinner and you’re nowhere to be found.”

“Oh fuck. Fuck! I totally forgot!” 

“Obviously! Look, I’ll try to stall until you get here. Taryn brought Locke so you might as well bring Cardan too. Get here as fast as you can, dumbass.” With that, Vivi hung up.

Jude turned to Cardan, where he was looking at her expectantly.  “We have to go to my dad’s.”

They barely made it through the front door before Vivi was upon them like a hyena. “Thank god you’re here, Madoc is starting to throw a fit.”

As if summoned by the mention of his name, Madoc stepped into the foyer and gave Jude a withering look. “Why aren’t you dressed?” He barked.

Jude was fairly certain her clothes hadn’t fallen off, leaving her standing in the doorway naked, but she still looked down at herself in assessment. She was very clearly dressed. 

“Never mind, some of your old dresses are still in your room, you must get changed before the guests arrive.” He took in Cardan’s attire and made a face like he had just drank spoiled milk. “I suppose you’ll do.”

Jude was feeling a little lost. “Guests?”

“Yes, Jude, guests. This is, afterall, a birthday party. I don’t want you embarrassing me in front of all our family friends and associates, so I suggest you go change out of that ratty sweater before everyone arrives.” Without waiting for a reply, Madoc left the room in the same storm he had entered it with.

“Guests?” Jude asked again, this time directing her attention at Vivi.

Vivi shrugged. “Oh you know dear old dad, he’ll turn everything into a business affair given half the chance. Now go get dressed so I don’t have to bury you on your birthday.”

Jude's childhood bedroom was sparse. Most of her things had been moved to her apartment after leaving Madoc’s, but there were a few things left behind: a bed, a handful of stuffed animals, an old dresser that was long but low with an attached mirror, and a bookcase with children's books still lining it's shelves. It was this last one that Cardan drifted to as Jude shut the door behind her. She drifted to her closet and the few dresses that remained there.

"Alice in Wonderland?" He said, taking a collectors edition off the top shelf. "This was my favorite book as a kid."

"You can have it," Jude said as she walked out of the closet in her chosen dress for the night and leaned against the nightstand after zipping the back up the rest of the way. Cardan raised his eyebrows at her over his shoulder and set the book down on the bed.

"It's your birthday," he purred, coming up to her and running his hands along her hips before shifting them so they were pressed squarely against his. He easily lifted her up and set her down on the dresser for him to settle between her knees. Jude felt her breath catch. "I'm supposed to be the one giving you a gift." 

"Is the gift sex?" Jude breathed as Cardan ran his lips along her throat. 

He chuckled against her collarbone, and lord help her, she felt hot all over. 

"No," he said, his voice low and undeniably sexy. "But the option's always on the table."

He continued to leave a trail of hot kisses along her skin as her almost feverish body continued to get hotter. Cardan was driving her crazy, and if the smile he pressed into her pulse point was any indication, he knew it to.

"God, this dress, Jude…"

"What? Don't like it?" She managed, looking down at the midnight blue fabric that hugged her curves nicely before pooling loosely just above her knees.

"I like you in it, that's for sure. But I'd also like you without it right about now." Cardan's fingers were gently running up the sides of her thighs. 

"Then take it off," she whispered in his ear.

His fingers came to the hem of her underwear and she shimmied out of them as he gently tugged them down. Then his hands were right where she wanted them, teasing her, exploring her, all while he continued to kiss every available inch of her skin. She gasped and, without fully meaning too, dug her nails into Cardan's shoulder as he inserted a finger. He was going too damn slow. She wanted more more more more.

"Cardan," she moaned. He smiled against her skin once more and added another finger. "Fuck, Cardan."

His strokes were reverent, like he was worshipping her. With his free hand he slid the strap of her dress off her right shoulder. Then her left. Her dress pooled around her waist on the dresser and his mouth found her breasts.

More more more more.

"This is all I've been able to think about since we kissed earlier," he said against her mouth.

"Yeah?" 

"Jude…"

She kissed him, the kiss getting more and more desperate as his fingers continued to stroke her. His rhythm was slowly dissolving as his own desire drove him just as crazy. He wanted her just as much as she wanted him, and she wanted him bad.

"Do you have a condom?" She asked around her panting.

"Would you hate me if I said I've been carrying one since the first time we had sex?" 

Jude's laugh was low and sultry. "No, I wouldn't hate you. If anything I'd say thank god."

His fingers found a particularly sensitive spot and she bit her lip to contain the last half of a yelp that tore through her. She could feel her hips rocking against him even though she wasn't consciously doing it. When she looked down, she could see cardan hard and straining against his tight jeans.

"Get the condom," she pleaded.

Much to her disappointment, Cardan withdrew the hand inside her to remove his wallet from his back pocket in order withdraw a condom and shuck off his pants. His mouth found hers in a desperate series of kisses as he slid the condom on and then his hands were on her again and oh she was losing her mind. 

"Cardan?"

"Hmm?"

"The bed."

He backed up and sat down on the edge of the bed. Jude hopped off the dresser, her dress falling the rest of the way off her body to collect in a pool at her feet. Steadily, she walked over to Cardan, aware of his gaze taking in every inch of her exposed skin. His eyes seemed to gleam.

"God you're so fucking beautiful," he said. 

Jude settled into his lap. He was looking up at her in a way that made her stomach tumble even more as he leaned back and braced himself with a hand against the mattress behind him. His other hand cradled Jude against his body. And then, finally, he slid into her.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered as Jude began rocking her hips. His hands grabbed hold of her waist, he buried his head against her chest, and his breath came in short, hot gasps as Jude rode him. 

When he began to move his hips beneath her, Jude let out a cry of pleasure, which drew a chuckle out of cardan.

"As much as I love to hear your moans, you might want to try to be quiet, darling," he purred in that way that made Jude want to do very unholy things to him. 

Her mind was struggling for words as she shoved at his chest to push his back against the mattress. Finally, she managed, "Fuck you, Greenbriar."

"I think you already are."

"Then fuck me."

With a laugh he bucked his hips and she threw her head back in pleasure, Cardan's fingers trailing her exposed throat before sliding into her hair. His free hand had a firm hold on her hips as he rocked his and oh my god she was nearing the edge of a cliff. His teeth grazed her collarbone before finding her nipple, his hand slid in the small space between them and began running circles on her and oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck…

Jude fell off that cliff with a cry as Cardan fell with her.

Trying to catch her breath, Jude collapsed on top of Cardan. Beneath her cheek his chest rose and fell as fast as hers, his heartbeat going a mile a minute. Jude didn't mind the sweat sticking to his skin, or how her own sweaty skin made their stomachs stick together. She just laid with her head on his chest, legs still around his hips, and closed her eyes as his fingers stroked her back, her hair, tucking a stray strand behind her ear. Jude decided she could live in this moment forever. Being held by Cardan after being loved by him, slowly beginning to doze off as she breathed in the scent of his skin, enveloped in the warmth of it.

"Jude," he said gently.

"Hmm?"

"We should probably make ourselves decent and go back downstairs before someone comes looking for us." This elicited a groan of a different variety than moments before from Jude. Cardan gave a soft laugh and pressed his lips against her sweaty forehead. 

"Come on, Jude. I'd rather not get caught having sex with you by your dad."

"But you're not having sex with me anymore," she teased. This made Cardan smile wickedly. Before she could think about the wisdom behind her own taunt, Cardan had them flipped over so he was on top of her. 

"You're right, my sweet villain," he purred, "but I can still drive you crazy." His fingers grazed down her stomach, millimeters away from where she was once again hot all over, before he pulled away from her and started pulling on his pants.

"I really fucking hate you sometimes, you know that?" Jude said.

With a laugh, Cardan buckled his pants and leaned over the bed so he was propped over Jude again. "Come on," he said, helping her sit up. "We can pick up where we left off once we get back to your apartment." 

That didn't seem soon enough. But Cardan was handing her her dress and she grumpily slipped it on. After both using the bathroom attached to her room, she led the way to her bedroom door and was about to pull it open when Cardan's hand stopped her. Gently, so gently, he spun her around and pressed her back against the door. He kissed her, once, and then he was pulling open the door, his fingers interlocking with hers, and they were going back downstairs.

The party passed in a blur. The guests were there more for Madoc than for Jude and Taryn and the twins seemed to orbit on different axises. Jude saw Taryn in passing but never stopped to talk, and Vivi tried to split her time between the two of them while making sure they both knew how much it irritated her. Throughout the night, Cardan stole kisses in secluded places. The empty kitchen, a corner in the hallway, behind a potted plant by the tables overflowing with food. On the back patio with the stars shining down on them. Jude cherished every kiss, every touch, and felt herself fall a little more each time.

“Happy birthday, Jude,” Cardan whispered against her skin as he settled an opal necklace around her throat.

#jurdan #jurdan au #the cruel prince #my writing #the wicked king #the folk of the air #jude x cardan #text post #okay to reblog

[the-oak-owl]

Submitted by @merleyfox

A story of mine, that I would like a stew from! It’s pretty long, and I apologize for that, but I hope you enjoy!

Bushes cracked and swished, almost like angry claws tearing at the young woman’s clothing. Each swish of the leaves whispered in her ears

“You won’t outrun him”

“He sees all.”

“You know you won’t escape.”

She pushed herself to run faster, not caring where she ran, as long as it was far away from her pursuers.

The sky was dark and eerily silent, each cracking branch like a gunshot.

Then the howling started up.

The howling began behind her, urging her to run faster, her breath coming in ragged pants. Like echoes, howls came on either side of her.

She wasn’t running away, they were forcing her to go where they pleased.

The young woman skidded to a halt, pale eyes wide as she searched the forest around her. Her long blonde hair hung limp with sweat, ragged, torn from the clawing branches. The howling was getting closer on all sides.

They were already here.

The wolves were silent, almost as if their paws were floating above the earth, as they pushed through the foliage. Their slavering jaws hung open as they began to mill around her, close enough for her to feel their ugly breath, but they never touched her.

The young woman clasped her arms around herself, crying out in prayer.

“Creator, I fear for everything I’ve done. If I am saved from this horrid death, I will never break your laws again.” She paused, a sob breaking from her throat as she watched the wolves. She squeezed her eyes shut, raising her voice.

“Deliver me into the hands of the Creator, oh wicked Fiends!”

As if commanded the wolves leaped upon one another, piling one on top of the other in a horrible tower of fur, silent as they devoured and smothered each other.

Her eyes flew open and the woman leaped backwards in fear. She fell back to the ground, scrabbling back through the frosty grass away from the writhing mass of wolves.

In a heartbeat the pile of gray bodies cleared away, like a dirty fog, and He rose.

Three times larger than any of the wolves that had been there a moment ago, the great wolf stood on his hind legs, his long grey-green tail wagging stiffly, and his face...

Her gaze traveled to his face, what she saw there caused her to cry out and tear her eyes away from his terrible visage. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, willing the monster to leave her.

His muzzle was split in a grin, teeth pulled back to show his dripping fangs. Above his sickening smile, more than enough eyes glared back at her, gleaming a terrible gold.

This was the Five-Eyed Wolf.

“Well, well, well. It seems you can’t run forever, my dear.” His voice was deep and deceptively smooth. “You do know that your actions have consequences, hmm?”

The woman kept her eyes shut tightly as she spoke. “I.. I’m sorry! I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to break your rules.”

“You just can’t stop, can you? You may want to think of what you’re doing.” He paused, golden eyes set on her like a helpless dove. “Let me give you a hint… It is rude not to look at someone while they are talking to you.”

The woman’s eyes ripped open, flying to the wolf’s face, trying to focus on him and not make contact with any of his eyes.

“This town is very strict on the Rules of Civility, and you madame were not being very civil. If you can’t seem to remember, let’s take a look back at it, shall we?” The wolf took a few steps forward, and seated himself gingerly beside the woman. Using one huge paw he reached towards her.

“May I?”

She hesitated, eyes wide and fearful. Not wanting to anger him any longer, she managing a shaky nod.

The wolf touched his paw to the side of her head. As soon as he did, the scene of their first meeting played like a movie infront of them.

~

The sea wind gently puffed the docked ship's sails. The salty warm air seemed to hug the people as they went about the festivities of the day. On the large docks, people waved their hats and kerchiefs to the men, women and children who departed from the bellies of the docked ships.

One of the people coming off of the ships was a young woman, eyes and hair pale. This woman was Jezzabelle. Dressed in dark green finery, she wore the outfit of a merchant’s daughter.

The young lady retrieved her things, a small wagon piled high with luggage, from a ruddy shipworker, dismissing him without much more than a click of her tongue. As she left the docks she made her way deeper into the town, wheeling her cart behind her, heading towards the place she would stay alone for the next few days.

Jezzabelle made her way through the winding roads, eyes flicking up to the wobbly buildings, face pinched unpleasantly. She was glad she was heading for the nicer end of town, further away from the salty water that wore away paint and shape, happy her father hadn’t boarded her in any of the buildings portside, all of them in need of a fresh layer of paint.

After a ways of walking Jezzabelle noticed a boy, who couldn't be much older than her, about seventeen, walking on the other side of the street. She frowned, not having noticed him before, as if he materialized out of the shadows cast by the afternoon sun.

The boy was wearing scrappy clothing, pants patched at the knees and shirt at the elbows. He wore a crooked flat cap on top of his ruffled hair, which lingered somewhere between green and gray.

He whistled as he walked, glancing fondly at the tall buildings. His eyes wandered down the building before landing on Jezzabelle. He paused in his whistling to raise a hand in greeting..

She cast a glance at him, and tipped her head. Her gaze flicked pointedly away, and she marched on like she had never seen him in the first place.

With her acknowledgement the boy crossed the street, and settled into pace beside her. “Hello Miss.” He said with a tip of his flat top hat, hands adorned in thin gloves patched much like his other clothes. “How are you doing on this fine day?”

Jezzabelle gave the boy a soft hum, not turning her eyes towards him. She had interacted with his kind too many times.

The boy’s lips turned down at the corner, and yet he continued. “My name is Lupin.” He offered.

Jezzabelle once more, didn’t give an answer, this time not even deaming to look at the boy.

His lips once more twisted down. “And you are?”

Jezzabelle heaved a sigh and frowned. She stopped in her tracks and whipped around.

“Alright, streetrat.” She pointed a neatly manicured finger at him. “I didn’t come here to be harrassed by some kid. Now go try to steal money off some other traveler.”

Lupin didn’t react, eyes flicking from Jezzabelle’s face to the finger she had stuck in his chest. His expression darkened, and he furrowed his brow. He took a step back from the angry woman, straightening his tattered coat front. “If you don’t mind me saying, Miss, that was rather rude. And if you don’t mind, I’ll now take my leave.”

“Yes, get out of here, you slightfinger.”

Lupin then turned, and disappeared just as he had shown up, melding into the shadows. It was like he had never been there at all.

Jezzabelle huffed, happy to be alone once more and went on unbothered, finding the hotel her father had booked her quite easily. She received her room key and left her baggage with the rather surprised desk-woman, telling her that it would be returned to her room after washing.

“These people,” She murmured to herself as she mounted the stairs. “Is the entire town full of fools and thieves?”

She went to sleep early, turning in after a long week of traveling, happy to finally have a bed on sturdy ground again. The desk-woman still hadn’t returned her things by the time she had turned out the light, leaving an irritated Jezzabelle to sleep in her traveling clothes.

The silent night air was broken by a knock on her door. Jezzabelle awoke with a groan, sitting up in the bed. “Who is it?” She called, voice bleary with sleep.

Whoever was on the other side of the door knocked again, and she tore back the covers, padding to the door. “If that is you, desk-woman, with my clothing I will not be very-” she opened the door, mouth dropping open. It was Him.

The Five-Eyed Wolf stood there, face set.

Instantly she knew this creature had been the street rat she met earlier.

“Hello Miss,” He said, “Would you care to accompany me to tea?”

“T-Tea? At night? No, I think not. Goodbye now.” Jezzabelle’s face had gone deathly pale, eyes locked on the monstrous face of the wolf.

“Didn’t anyone tell you it’s horrible rude to stare?” His lips curled back, all five eyes narrowing.

“I…I apologize.” Her eyes didn’t leave the wolf’s face.

A growl lifted in his throat. “I ask again, would you accompany me to tea?’

“No.. No thank you.” Jezzabelle said.

“Wrong answer.”

~

The wolf removed his paw from her temple, and Jezzabelle crumpled into herself.

“That’s right. You were not very civil the entire time you were here. And manners mean very much to me,” He pulled back, padding over to a felled tree on the edge of the clearing. He seated himself on the stump, which as if it had always been, swiftly transformed into a wrought iron chair.

“Now that I’ve found you, I will be taking you back with me down the Path of the Fae, and you will serve me.” He leaned on the body of the fallen tree, absentmindedly, slowly, tapping each one of his massive claws against the wood. It followed suit of the stump and swiftly transformed into a long garden table, laid with steaming tea cups and desserts of all kinds.

“Hopefully you will find some manners while you do.” His lip curled, eyes shifting back to land on the girl. “Now,” he said, picking up one of the teacups to take a near silent drink. “Mmm. I’m sure you have heard of me, even from where you hail from. I am the Five-Eyed Wolf. I am also known as Lupin, Gela, and The Grimmwulf. You may refer to me as Lord.” He paused for a moment, glancing at the table. “I know you turned down my offer before, but would you like some tea?”

Jezzabelle shakily nodded, not wanting to anger the Fae, and climbed to her feet. She walked over to the table, perching nervously on a branch, long broken from the tree, which almost instantly shifted into a dazzling wrought iron seat.

“Good, now you’re beginning to understand.” He chuckled dangerously, nudging a cup towards her. “Drink, drink, please.”

As she did, savoring the flavor like nothing she had tasted before, he leaned forwards. “And your name is?”

“Jezzabelle.” As soon as the word left her lips she regretted it, wishing she had given something, anything else but her true name.

A grin split his maw once more, and he set the teacup down with a soft clink.

“Jezzabelle…” as the word left his lips, it was as a powerful clawed hand gripped her mind-matter. “Now Jezzabelle, this whole predicament could have been avoided if you had manners. Every person, and fae, you meet is worthy of some respect.”

Jezzabelle didn’t answer, nervously sipping from her cup of tea.

“Some acknowledgment, yes?”

Pain shot through Jezzabelle and she shot to her feet with a yelp, dropping the cup with a clatter. “What was-” The pain doubled, and she fell to her knees, a low whine breaking from her throat.

The Five-Eyed Wolf gave her an exasperated look. “Manners, Jezzabelle… you will learn them.”

“Yes.” Jezzabelle strangled out, crying out as the pain increased yet again.

“Yes, what?” The Five-Eyed Wolf seemed to be getting tired of her.

“Yes… Yes, Lord.’

“Good! You’re learning already.”

The pain released Jezzabelle, and she gasped, scrambling to her feet once more. She didn’t want to be at this horrid tea party any longer. Anything would be better than this. “Oh creator, that was horrid.” She snapped her gaze to The Wolf. “I want to leave.”

“Already? Proper etiquette for tea is to take your time, sweet Jezzabelle.” He said, and Jezzabelle readied herself for another lash of pain.

Instead The Wolf stood, nodding. “But yes, it is rather late. We should be going.” As he stood, the tea set and furniture resumed their wooden state. Even the splattered tea from when Jezzabelle had dropped her cup disappeared without a trace.

She stared at where the tea had been for a moment before looking back up at the Five Eyed Wolf.

Where he had just been standing, the same pack of gray-green wolves stared back.

They were silent, golden eyes unblinking.

Jezzabelle shivered, taking a step towards them, nervous that they would devour her like they had each othee.

But they didn’t move, except for those golden eyes.

The young maiden dipped into a hesitant curtsy, and she could swear the wolves began to smirk.

In turn, the wolves of the pack dipped into a series of bows.

And in only a moment they were around her. They pushed against her, flipping her off of her feet. She screamed as she fell, the noise echoing in the cool night air.

Landing on the backs of the wolves, Jezzabelle struggled. They were carrying her like a wave as they ran, always a wolf there to catch her. Jezzabelle dug her fingers into their thick hides, holding on for dear life, squeezing her eyes shut against her fate.

The wolves carried her onwards, only slowing as they came to their final place.

A ring of old hawthorne trees greeted Jezzabelle’s eyes and she tried to scramble upright on the roiling tide of wolves.

She was set to the ground, the wolves once more leaped upon one another, quickly turning into the Five Eyed Wolf.

“Here we are!” His voice was joyful. “I welcome you to the Fae Path.” He said, motioning with one paw to the trees around him. “This will take us to my plane of existence.” He turned, fixing her with a gaze. “You must walk freely into the circle, and once there we will depart.”

“If I have to walk freely then I won’t go.” Jezzabelle said, taking a step back from the circle of trees.

The Wolf looked at her for a moment, then sighed. “You just have to keep making things more difficult, don’t you?” He lifted a claw and pointed at the ground beside him. “Please come here, Jezzabelle.” His voice was like that of a strict father’s.

As soon as he said her name it was as if she lost all control of her body. Even as she fought back she obediently took the place beside him. Tears began to stream down her face, asage realized the depravity of the situation.

The Wolf looked at her, politely averting his gaze until the sobs became nothing but sniffles. He cleared his throat, and turned back to her.

“We must go now. It’s terribly rude to show up late, hmm?”

She gave a stiff nod, and took a shaky breath. “I’m ready.” She would put up a strong face. She would do what her father always told her to. Clasp fate’s hands in the waltz of life.

“Good,” The Wolf cleared his throat and announced to the trees. “Take us to the summer court manor, if you will.” And immediately they began to thrash as if a mighty gust of wind had come on suddenly.

Jezzabelle wrapped her arms around herself, cowering from the whipping branches, “Death be sure to take me,” she whispered.

“Not yet, my dear Jezzabelle.”

She jumped as the wolf responded to her, withering under his gaze:

A jolt of pain ran through her and she gasped, clenching her fists tightly.

The Wolf clicked his tongue “And I thought we were making progress on manners already,” he shook his head, “No matter. We’ll be sure to fix that,” A wicked grin had split his maw. “But the important thing is, we’ve made it.”

Jezzabelle looked to see everything had changed around her. The dreary winter forest had disappeared, though the ring of hawthornes still remained.

In its place was a field, warm and ripe with grain, grasshoppers singing among the tall stalks of wheat.

She looked back at The Wolf, surprised to see the beast now adorned with a suit of fine silk, finer than anything she had seen at the Merchant’s Balls. Golden rings adorned his paws, and perched between his ears sat a small golden circlet.

The Wolf stood aloft, looking proudly over the land, before turning his gaze back to Jezzabelle.

“Welcome to my court.”

—————— 

Goodness! What a story, such vibrant penmanship. There’s a strong voice here which I do hope I was able to portray well.

Here’s your stew, friend!

#mine #skunk lady writes #five eyed wolf #submission #long post #february menu

[mllekurtz]

A greenhouse encounter with good men's or dragon age!

Prompt # 8: a greenhouse encounter (x)

KNIGHT OF ROSES (DA2, Anders & Varric, implied Anders/Hawke, quick and indirect mention of animal death, 956 words)

Really, the last thing Varric wanted was to snoop or be a mother hen — not more than he already begrudgingly was — but he couldn’t ignore how his apostate friend had become all quiet and mopey lately, and, well. He couldn’t be blamed if he worried about the kind of trouble Anders might have been in.

So, when the mage excused himself from a game of Wicked Grace, one evening, Varric made sure to lose the next round and slipped out through the back door, making his way to Darktown. If Anders was already at the clinic, Varric could talk to him face to face; if he wasn’t, he had to come back at some point. He’d rather not drag Hawke into this if he could avoid it: if his friend was actually sweet on Anders, as Varric was beginning to suspect, a premature involvement in whatever this was could do more harm than good.

Cute, he thought when he found the clinic’s door locked. He put together a suitable telling-off about security in his mind in the half minute it took him to pick the lock. He tiptoed in the dark room, resigned to wait for his friend and hoping he had something interesting to read lying around, when he spotted something he never noticed before: the outline of a door where he swore there had always been a plain wall. It would have been invisible, if it hadn’t been for the faint light outlining its shape.

The door was unlatched, and it opened without a sound… not, to Varric’s surprise, on the back alley he was sure was on the other side, but on a small room filled with warm sunlight.

The wooden panels that made up its walls and roof were dirty and splintered, but all the spaces between them had been carefully sealed. A handful of delicate glowing orbs floated gently in midair, invisible to passers-by.

The narrow space they encased was made even more cramped by the wealth of pots and planters lining the floor and the walls and hanging from the low roof. Varric saw elfroot, orchid-like embrium, red berries of prophet’s laurel, the large, violet-tipped leaves of royal elfroot, as well as other herbs that he didn’t recognize: something that looked like a particularly ugly thistle, and a cascade of delicate looking branches spilling out from a hanging vase.

At the other end of the small greenhouse, a familiar, oblivious robed figure was turning his back to Varric as he watered a planter with what looked like a large clay jar.

“Never knew you had a green thumb.” The yelp Varric’s remark elicited wasn’t as undignified as he hoped, but he was happy to settle.

“For the love of…” Wiping ineffectively at the water he spilled on his robe, Anders turned to glare at Varric as he gingerly put the clay jar on the ground. “Since you already let yourself in, I don’t know why I expected you to knock.”

Crossing his arms, Varric took a sceptical look around. “I don’t know, this place looks like a stiff wind could knock it down.”

With a frustrated huff, Anders ran a hand through his hair. Blonde strands stood on end as they escaped his half ponytail. “Yeah, well, I’m not a carpenter.”

“You built this?” Varric didn’t bother to hide his disbelief, to which Anders responded with a resigned half shrug.

“Herbs are expensive and I need lots of them.”

Varric’s eyebrow arched of its own volition. “That’s all? You could have asked me.”

He expected his friend to argue back, but after what looked like a short internal struggle, Anders just sighed. “I know. Would you believe me if I told you I needed it?” Reaching for a pair of rusty-looking secateurs hanging from a nail, he went back to tending to his plants. “The first thing I tried when I came here was to see if I could lure stray cats with milk. I learned pretty quickly that you don’t want to get attached to stray cats in Darktown.” He made a grimace when Varric hissed through his teeth. There was no need to elaborate. “That’s why I keep this on the down low, by the way.”

Varric nodded. “Word gets around you’re growing rare plants, and next thing you know, they’re gone.” He took another look around. As rough and ramshackle as this place was, there was a cozy feeling to it. “You know, they say taking care of something helps you take care of yourself.”

“Do they, now?” Without looking at Varric, Anders clipped off an offshoot from the mysterious plant in the hanging vase.

“What plant is that?”

“Oh? Crystal grace,” Anders answered absent-mindedly. “It should bloom soon. See these buds?”

Taking a step closer, Varric examined the shoots in question. “I didn’t know crystal grace had healing properties.”

When Anders didn’t offer an explanation right away, Varric looked up at him. The candlelight was too dim to be sure, but that blush on his cheeks was pretty unmistakable.

“But its flowers are really pretty, right?” Varric went on with a grin. “Picture how lovely they would look in a vase in a certain Hightown mansion—”

“Yes, yes, you read me like an open book.” Anders clipped off another small branch with more forcefulness than necessary. “What do you want me to say?”

With a chuckle, Varric patted his back as he allowed himself to be relieved. He thought the boy was in trouble with the Carta at the very least; instead he’s just lovesick. “Nothing, Blondie, nothing. Give Chuckles your flowers. The next round of ale at the Hanged Man is on me, by the way. See you there when you’re done moping.”

#dragon age #da 2 #da ficlet #anders #varric tethras #writing prompts #the urge to play this game again intensifies #thanks for the prompt my friend! you didn't specify a pairing so i took the sad mage route #blarfkey #my writing prompts #mlle's writing prompts

[ragewerthers]

Pond Memories

Summary: Gladio talks Ignis into being a bit rebellious and joining him for a bit of skinny dipping.  However, there may be more than a handsome Shield in the waters of this unassuming pond.

A/n: This is another fun prompt for my friend @bgn846​!  

She asked for:'Skinny dipping -- “Something just brushed up against my leg!” '

I instantly had dialogue in my head, but I'll admit that the ending was something I hadn't planned XD  

Hopefully it's not too silly an something that will get a good laugh!

You can also read on AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25596553

Enjoy, my friends! :D

Word Count: 2303

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

Ignis couldn’t believe what they had decided to do.  This was ridiculous, juvenile, possibly a bit unsanitary and… thrilling.

“Come on, Iggy, there’s nothin’ to worry about,” Gladio had offered only about an hour earlier as Ignis tidied up his cook station from lunch.  “Prompto and Noct are out fishing and taking pictures and we still have plenty of daylight left.  We’re allowed to have a little fun as well aren’t we?”  As he spoke he moved to stand behind Ignis, his arms wrapping around the lithe Adviser, resting his chin on his shoulder.  “It’ll add a little danger to our day!”

Ignis couldn’t help snorting at the ridiculous comment, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth and hide his smile.  “Darling, our days are literally filled with danger or have you forgotten in your old ag-ah!  Stahpit!” Ignis squeaked as Gladio wriggled his fingers against his sides where they rested, interrupting his teasing with a bout of hysterical giggles.

The attack didn’t last long though and Gladio couldn’t help smiling as Ignis relaxed back in his arms.  “But it’s not the fun sort of danger!  This is… rebellious.  Don’t you ever want to be a wild man?  Live life on the edge?  Go against the norm?”

“I kiss you after you eat garula steak and beans… if that’s not living life on the edge I don’t know wha-ahahaht ihihihis!  S-stop!  I yeheheheild!” Ignis frantically apologized as those teasing fingers found his sides once more and honestly, trapped in the bearhug of his partners arms there was no way he could get free easily.

“You’re just full of piss and vinegar today, aren’t ya?” Gladio chuckled, stopping once more and pressing a few kisses against Ignis’s shoulder as the Adviser caught his breath.  “Come on, Iggy.  Let loose a little!”

And so that was how Ignis found himself standing on the edge of a small pond, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and wondering just how he’d become so easy to sway.

However, as he glanced over to the side and watched Gladio tossing his grey tank top over a low hanging branch and showing off every inch of his well muscled and tattooed torso the answer became abundantly clear.

It didn’t take long for Gladio to notice that he was being watched, however, and as he turned around Ignis felt his cheeks instantly heat up.  Quickly he looked away, taking off his glasses and putting them on top of his shirt which he had folded and set nearby.

“Enjoying the show, Iggy?” Gladio murmured, walking closer and making Ignis feel butterflies bloom in his stomach.

“Don’t be smug.  Smugness doesn’t suit you,” Ignis lied because oh how it suited the man.

Gladio’s wicked smile proved that he knew it as well and he gave a little chuckle before turning back around.  “Uh huh.  Your blush says different,” he teased and Ignis could feel his cheeks growing redder.  “But you better hurry up before the terror twins show back up and wonder where we went.” Ignis gave a little snort at the nickname he had for the two and shook his head.  “We literally left them a note saying that we were going for a swim.  They’ll know to come down here regardless,” he said, taking off his belt and shoes.

Glancing over he saw Gladio scowling at him as he stood as brazen as ever in just his moogle print boxers.  “Yeah, but they don’t know that this little dip is extra rebellious… and what would the kids think if they saw mama Ignis in all his glory?” he teased, making Ignis growl and throw one of his socks at the man who ducked with a laugh.

“First of all, do not refer to me as mama Ignis.  That is for Prompto and Prompto alone.  He is exempt,” Ignis warned before tucking his other sock into one of his shoes.  “And they wouldn’t think anything.  We’ve all had to bathe at least once out here as we’ve roughed it and honestly, if they can look at your hairy arse and not be scarred for li-IFE!”

Ignis had only just stepped out of his trousers and boxers when he felt himself hoisted into the air and unceremoniously tossed into the less then warm waters of their little pond.

Upon resurfacing with a splutter, Ignis only had a moment to try and right himself before he found his rather large and immature partner rushing toward the water.  With a manic grin, moogle print boxers fluttering in the breeze as he tossed them behind himself, Gladio lept toward the water.

“Cannonball!!!” he shouted, launching himself in Ignis direction.  The man couldn’t suppress a  shout of surprise as his darling's ridiculousness sent a massive tidal wave crashing over him.

After resurfacing for a second time, Ignis spat out whatever water had made its way into his windpipe when he’d shouted and wiped the water from his eyes.  Blinking blearily he found Gladio’s smug and smiling face a few inches from his own, a lily pad resting atop his head.

“You were sayin’?” he asked and Ignis reacted on pure, feral instinct and adrenaline.

With a growl and shout he launched himself at Gladio, trying to push the behemoth of a man under water though Gladio was absolutely unphased.

“You are a terrible human being!  How could you just toss me in!?” Ignis growled, still attempting to push Gladio under, but only managing to make the Shield wobble slightly as all he was really accomplishing was climbing him.

“I’m terrible?” Gladio chuckled, wrapping his arms around Ignis and hugging him close as the man struggled half-heartedly to get away.  “You said I had a hairy butt.  That is being terrible.”

“Then use your words to tell me that… don’t toss me into a pond!” Ignis grumbled, attempting to pout before finding his cheeks under a barrage of soft pecks and kisses.  His lips instantly started to quirk up into a smile and he brought his hands up, gently pushing at Gladio’s stubbly face.  “St-stahpit!  I’m… I’m trying to be dihihifficult!”

“Yeah well… this is me apologizing so deal with it,” Gladio chuckled, continuing to pepper kisses against Ignis cheeks until the poor Adviser could barely utter a word through his ridiculous giggles and snorts.

“So… do you forgive me?” Gladio asked as he finally stopped the barrage of kisses, giving Ignis his best puppy dog eyes as the retainer slowly calmed down from the loving attention.

“Astrals save me… yes.  I forgive you.  Now unhand me you lovable brute,” Ignis chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to Gladio’s brow and reaching up to remove the lily pad from his partners head.  After tossing it aside like a frisbee he looked back to his partner, a light smile on his lips.  “So… I’m afraid I’m not sure what a true rebellious skinny dipping experience should entail.”

Gladio chuckled at that, leaning back slightly and doing a little backstroke away from Ignis.  “The rebellious part is that we aren’t wearing swim trunks.  Apart from that it’s just… enjoying a little swim and a little naked solitude away from the other two,” he said lightly, closing his eyes and floating on his back.

Ignis felt his cheeks heating up again, but decided to follow his partner’s example and try to enjoy their ‘naked solitude’ as Gladio had so eloquently put it.

However, as he was debating whether to swim toward the low hanging branches of a nearby willow or toward some black rocks near the edge of the pond he felt something slimy touch or rather slither against his leg…

… and the normally stoic man lost it.

Ignis shouted, instantly kicking his legs and swimming quickly away from the spot, turning back to stare at it with a look of abject horror.

“Something just brushed up against my leg!” he rasped, reaching down to touch said leg to see if there were any traces left of what it might have been.  Glancing up he saw Gladio seven feet away from him, smirking and giving a little quirk of his eyebrow.

Ignis glared daggers at him.

“Don’t flatter yourself, darling…. I love you, but I wouldn’t let you near me with a ten foot pole if that were the case.”

Gladio’s shit eating grin only grew at that.  “I mean…”

“I heard it as soon as I said it!  Don’t you dare say anything else!” Ignis amended quickly, knowing that keeping up with this line of banter would only lead to Gladio becoming insufferable.  “But I’m being serious, Gladiolus!  Something… something is in here and it touched me.”

Gladio lost the smugness when he heard his full name being used, his expression softening as he made his way closer.  “Could it have been a fish?  Some reeds or stems from the lily pads?” he offered, looking down into the water, trying to pinpoint what it was that would have made his normally unflappable partner react like that.

Ignis felt his cheeks heating up as he heard that, wondering if perhaps it had been in his imagination that something slithered against him when it could’ve been as simple as a reed.

At least that’s what he had started to try and tell himself until Gladio turned his back toward him… and Ignis saw the man’s tattoo move.

Ignis stood stock still for a moment, eyes unblinking as he stared at the expanse of Gladio’s back.  He knew every plain of muscle and had traced every feather imprinted on his skin.  There was nothing there that would ever or should ever surprise him.  Blinking rapidly he ran a hand over his face and as he focused on Gladio’s shoulder he saw it again, a little wobble… and then all hell broke loose.

“LEECHES!  IT’S FUCKING LEECHES, GLADIO!” Ignis bellowed, making a mad swim for the edge of the pond as Gladio looked at an Ignis shaped streak race toward shore.

“What?!” Gladio called back, bringing his arm out of the water and finding three of the mother suckers attached to his forearm.

“AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!”

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

“I can’t believe mama Ignis and Gladio would just leave us to fend for ourselves!” Prompto gasped dramatically, fighting a smile as he and Noct looked over the note the Adviser had left at his cook station.

“Right?  How will we ever survive?” Noct deadpanned, rolling his eyes and laughing as Prompto nudged his shoulder lightly.

“No, but honestly.  It’s cool that Gladio got Ignis to go and have a little fun,” Prompto said as he moved away, setting aside his camera on a small table near their camp chairs.

“What makes you think it was Gla-... nevermind, I heard it as soon as I sa-...,” Noct instantly stopped talking.  His eyes turned toward the treeline of their haven as blood curdling screams could be heard echoing in the distance.

Prompto was by Nocts side in an instant, his pistols already drawn as Noct called forth his sword from the armiger.  Both men braced themselves as the sounds of snapping twigs and underbrush could be heard getting louder and closer.

“W-was that…?” Prompto stammered, as Nocts hands tightened on his sword, fear taking over his heart in an icy grip.

“Get ready, Prompto… it’s almost here,” Noct grit out, knowing that whatever was hurtling toward them at breakneck speed had to be dealt with first before they could get into the words and search for their missing friends.

However, nothing could’ve prepared him for what came out into the clearing.

“I CAN FEEL THEM IN MY HAIR!” Gladio shouted, dropping to the ground as he and Ignis burst from the trees, naked as the day they were born.  The Shield instantly began rolling around like a  man possessed as Ignis ruffled his own hair like a maniac, kicking his legs and swatting at them in turn.

“YOU DESERVE IT!  YOU TERRIBLE MAN!” Ignis shouted back, picking something off of himself and throwing it at Gladio with all the accuracy his years of daggers training allowed.  Even in the midst of madness his aim was perfect.

“IT WASN’T MY FAULT!”

“YOU FOUND THE LOCATION!?”

“AND I WAS SUPPOSED TO KNOW SWIMMING VAMPIRES LIVED THERE?!”

Prompto and Noct watched the chaos unfolding before them, their weapons now held limply at their sides.

“Uh… Prom?” Noct whispered, watching as Ignis swatted at his back, picking off another little something and sending it flying toward the Shield.  The larger man still doing an impeccable job of imitating a floundering garula.

“On it!” Prompto shouted, dismissing his pistols and rushing behind Noct.  He returned only a few moments later, camera in hand and snapping as many pictures as his trigger finger could manage.

Noct dismissed his sword as well, watching as Gladio and Ignis continued to shout and rave like crazy swamp people.

“So,” Prompto asked, pausing in his pictures to look over at Noct, his voice strained in an effort to not laugh outright at the sight.  “Do you think we should go and help them?”

Noct glanced from Prompto back to his two retainers.

“HOLD STILL, GLADIOLUS!”

“I CAN’T!”

“YOU HAVE TO IF YOU DON’T WANT TO WALK AROUND THE REST OF YOUR LIFE WITH A LEECH ATTACHED TO YOUR ARSE!”

Looking back at Prompto with a quirked eyebrow, Prompto finally couldn’t stop himself from falling into a giggle fit and nodded.  “Good point,” he giggled, turning his camera lens back on the mayhem.

“We’ll at least wait for them to sort out Gladio’s butt.  Then we’ll go help,” the young Prince said, taking a seat on the edge of the haven and listening to the shutter of Prompto’s camera capturing this magical moment.  “I think once Ignis decides not to kill Gladio they’ll appreciate what we’re doing.  It’ll be some… ‘pond’ memories for them.”

#ffxv #my fics #some tickles #f3s #gladnis #gladiolus amicitia #ignis scientia #prompto argentum #Noctis Lucis Caelum

[overheardatthecontinental]

John Wick Gift Exchange

I had: @meetmeinthematinee​

There’s something about coming home to someone. It feels warm and good and right and, totally and completely, unfamiliar.

The sun has already long since set when John pulls into his garage. A by-product of December. A time of year that has, in all honesty, never made much sense to John. Truly, it doesn’t affect him much. There’s always someone to kill, no matter what month it is.

All December means for John is the nights are longer, so it’s easier to kill. Idly, he recognizes that there are decorations fucking everywhere. Even the Continental bought in with a giant tree in the lobby that had Charon fretting over getting pine needles everywhere. But that was it. 

He’d never really celebrated any holidays before Helen.

Thanksgiving had been… terrifying. Between Helen’s mother finding out he’d never celebrated Thanksgiving and deciding that John needed a crash course and Helen’s sixteen year old niece who kept making eyes at him for an entire weekend… well, holidays are definitely not his thing. 

Thank fuck she had promised no family for Christmas. He would have gone if she had asked, wouldn’t have even put up a fight. Her mercy is the greatest gift of all.

She still wanted to celebrate, but this time, it would only be them.

She'd taken time off work, too. The days leading up to the holiday as well as the week between Christmas and New Years. It was easy enough for him to turn down any contracts during that time.

Ten days with nowhere to be, with nothing to think about except Helen.

Still weeks away and he could barely stand the thrill of just being with her.

He was excited.

Excited was new, a feeling he hadn’t fully learned to process.

Like when Helen got home from work early or when she texted him that she missed him during the day. 

John parks his car next to Helen's SUV and revels in how good it feels to come home to her.

It's barely six when he walks into the house. Her baking makes his house smell like cookies.

And John has never been one for sweets but nothing smells better than coming home to Helen establishing herself in his kitchen.

He slips his suit jacket off as well as the Kevlar, draping both over the couch, and tossing his keys to the bowl in the hall as he walks by. 

John stops in the doorway of the kitchen, taking in the sight before him.

Her dark hair was braided back and out of her face and, somehow, still dusted with flour. She wears a dark green apron, the sleeves of her sweater pushed up past her elbows as she rolls out dough on his counter.

“It smells great in here.” 

She shoots a glance over her shoulder, taking in the sight of him.

His suit is a bit rumpled and his target’s blood stain is bright against the white of his shirt. Thank fuck that the rest of it blends in with his suit. He’s certain there’s blood on his face and in his hair but he and Helen are past the point of John rushing to shower and hiding his clothes; past the point of Helen pretending not to notice.

She shakes her head, turning back to where she was rolling out “You better not be getting any blood in my kitchen, John Wick!”

He has to remember to breathe at the way she claims it as hers.

“Your kitchen, huh?” He says, ignoring her, stalking around the counter.

“Learn to bake and I’ll consider sharing.” She tells him, stepping back from the cookie dough and towards the counter behind her. “I mean it, John. No blood near my foo--”

He backs her against the stone countertop and catches her face between his hands, bending down to quiet her with a kiss.

Her lips are soft and sweet, the taste of sugar cookies lingering on tongue. She hums against him. He nibbles on her lip as he pulls away.

Opening her eyes, Helen shoots him a harmless glare, “OSHA did not certify that!”

He snorts, a hand falling from her face and trailing down her arm until he entwines their fingers together.

"I'm not going to apologize."

Her lips twitch and then she smiles, reaching up and pushing back a lock of hair out of his face.

"Not your blood?"

He shakes his head and Helen nods.

“Injuries?”

“None.”

Aside from various Continental doctors, no one had ever really assessed him before. And while Doc was phenomenal, he didn’t exactly show the love and adoration that Helen did. 

She nods again, “Good.” Her hand comes up and idly plays with the edge of his vest, “I was thinking, maybe tonight we could get a Christmas tree?”

She looks up at him, almost like she expects him to say no or put up a fight. Silly girl, he thinks. There’s not a thing he can deny her.

“Alright.”

Helen beams at him. On tiptoes, she reaches up and kisses his bearded cheek. “Go wash up. I’ll have cookies ready for you when you come downstairs. I left you something on the bed to wear.”

He steals one last kiss before leaving her in peace.

A Christmas tree. 

He’s still not entirely sure of its purpose other than a place to leave presents.

And, fuck, that was another thing.

Presents.

Not that Helen wasn’t exceedingly easy to buy for, but this was important to her. She was changing decades of tradition to spend Christmas with him, and only him. Everything had to be perfect.

He strips down and showers, quickly.

He can only imagine what she has planned for them. 

The outfit, like she had said, is laid out on the bed.

The jeans and the plain t-shirt are fine. It’s what he tends to wear when he’s not going out to kill. But the grey sweater, with white reindeer on the front, surrounded by patterns of holly branches and snowflakes was ridiculous.

Fuck.

He dresses, in everything else, but forgos the sweater, carrying it downstairs over his arm rather than putting it on.

“Hels!” He calls as he reaches the bottom of the stairs and swings into the kitchen. “What the hell is this?”

He raises the sweater up for inspection as he walks into the kitchen.

She looks up from where she is lifting the shapes she had cut into the dough and placing them on a baking tray. “That’s an ugly Christmas sweater.”

John nods once, “Okay. So you know it’s ugly?”

She shoots him a look, “It’s a thing!”

“Ugly sweaters are a thing?” He asks skeptically.

“Mhmm. I have a box of them under my bed. Which reminds me, we’re going to need to stop at my place so I can pick up my holiday decorations.”

He tries not to wince as she says my place.

John likes it better when the ownership in her language refers to what he thinks of now as their home.

Before Helen, relationships hadn’t really been a thing. He’d never considered bringing another person into his house, his space. Hell, half the people he considered friends had never seen his house. Or knew its address.

“When are we leaving?”

She slips the tray into the oven. “Twelve minutes.”

John walks over to the rack of cookies cooling and takes one. 

He’s never been one for such treats. Too sweet for his palate but he still found himself trying everything that she baked.

“Good?” she asks, wiping off the counter.

“Perfect.” John holds up the sweater, “So, do I really have to wear this?” 

“You don’t have to do anything.” Helen tells him, “But I think you’d look very sexy in a sweater.”

“Oh, do you?”

“Mhmm. Might even have to suck you off.”

John nearly chokes on the cookies, “Are you serious?”

Helen smirks at him, undoing the tie of her apron and pulling it off. “Put on the sweater and find out.”

He swallows what’s left of the cookie and wastes no time in slipping the sweater over his head. It’s ridiculous, he thinks again, noting the rows of holly and snowflakes that wrap around each of his arms. 

Helen steps over, setting her now folded apron on the counter behind him.

She inclines her head, standing on tiptoes. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips before she kisses him. Softly, gently.

She hums, “You taste sweet.”

Her hands run down his chest, the flat of his stomach, reaching for his belt.

Helen holds his eyes in hers, undoing the latch of his belt with a small smirk. She opens it before snapping the button, her fingers making quick work of the zipper as she drops to her knees.

She slips her hand into his pants, her fingers wrapping along his hardening length as she pulls him out. Helen leans forward, her tongue tracing the underside of his cock.

John takes a sharp breath as her tongue swirls around his tip.

Her wet mouth runs along him, coating him in her spit all around. Her hand, at the base of his cock, moves in tandem with her mouth.

 She circles his tip again before sucking him into her mouth.

He grips the counter behind him as she moans against him, the vibrations making him impossibly harder.

Helen angles her head and pushes her mouth up, taking him as far as she can before dragging her mouth slowly back down his length. Her tongue, all the while, teasing him. 

“Fuck!” He swears, a hand flying to her head of it’s own accord. His fingers entwine in her dark hair, pulling her closer. She whimpers on his cock, bobbing up and down under his new guidance.

Her hands wrap around his thighs, using him as leverage to take him, swallowing him down and into her throat.

The noise that leaves him isn’t entirely human and it propels her. Her throat seems to close around him as she quickens her pace, looking up at him all the while. Her large brown eyes watering as he starts to tense.

He forces his eyes to stay open as he reaches the height of pleasure, cumming down her throat as she swallows him down.

When he has released, she slowly sucks her way down his length.

She comes off his cock with a slight pop, licking her lips as she does.

John tugs her hair as she slips back to her feet and he leans down, kissing her. He can taste his own salty flavor on her tongue, mixed with the sweetness of her Christmas cookies.

His free hand slides down her body, towards her core, but Helen breaks the kiss, stepping away playfully.

“Uh-uh.” She tells him, slipping just out of his reach.

“I can’t touch you?” He asks, stepping closer.

“That depends.” She teases, “We have a lot to do tonight. If you’re good, maybe you’ll get a present later tonight.”

“Is the present your pussy?”

Helen smiles, “You’d have to be a very good boy.”

“I can be good.”

On tiptoes, Helen reaches up and kisses the corner of his mouth. “I know you can. Be a dear and go grab my purse. The cookies are almost done.”

…

They take her SUV. There’s far more space in her car than in his and, though John doesn’t say it, he didn’t want to explain to Aurelio that he got scratches on the roof of his car from a pine tree.

It doesn’t take long at Helen’s apartment to grab her Christmas decorations. Conveniently, they’re already packed in boxes from the previous years. 

She changes into a Christmas sweater. It has a kitten playing with an ornament and says “Meowy Christmas” in gold letters.

Ridiculous, John thinks, but adorable.

Miracle of miracles, she doesn't insist on cutting their own tree at the tree farm. Instead, she picks one that is already cut and conveniently packaged for travel.

It’s a bizarre tradition, John thinks, but says nothing. It’s worth it for the way she bounces excitedly as they strap it to the roof of her car. 

She plays Christmas music on the radio and her hand rests on his thigh as they drive.

When they get home, she transfers the music to his TV and giggles when John realizes that there are a trail of pine needles leading from the door to the living room.

“You do this every year?” John asks in disbelief.

Helen nods, closing the space between them. Her arms wind around his neck and she smiles softly, “If you hate the live tree, I promise next year we can get an artificial one. They don’t smell as good, but it won’t make a mess.”

John tries not to react at the implication that there will be a next year.

He is still waiting for the other shoe to drop. For something to become too much for her. For someone better to come along.

She rises to give him a kiss before she releases him, opening the boxes of ornaments on his couch and removing a layer of newspaper padding.

“First thing is first,” she instructs him, taking several bound packs of lights. “You need to test each of these strands by plugging them in. If a few aren’t lit, that’s fine. But if more than a few don’t work, they can just be trashed.”

John nods and takes them over to and outlet. One by one, he tests the strands as Helen opens the other boxes of decorations. He sees the flash of tinsel being unpacked as he plugs in another strand, watching them all turn bright.

He unplugs and tests the next set and he can hear her humming along to the tune.

When all the strands are tested, he stands back up, taking the bundles to Helen.

“Next, we start stringing them on the tree.”

“All six?”

“No, I want to save at least two for the banister and another for the courtyard.” She takes the other strands over to the tree and begins fussing over the branches, fluffing them out before plugging in the first set of lights.

“Stand on that side of the tree, love.”

John follows her instructions, pushing up the sleeves on his sweater. Helen begins to weave the lights through the evergreen and hands him the string.

“And now I do what?”

“Wrap it around the tree, in the branches if you can.”

"What if it catches fire?" He asks, eyeing what she had done and trying to mirror it.

"It won't. The lights are made for this. And the wires are coated."

She takes the strand and wraps it around on her side before passing it back.

John hums, taking it and examining it anew.

"You're thinking how easy it would be to strangle someone with it, aren't you?" 

"Or hang them. You'd be shocked how many people want their relatives killed in the holiday itself."

"You already said you'd take the day off." She reprimands.

"And I will.” He promises, “I'm looking forward to having you all to myself for a little while."

A bit of pink stains her cheeks. “Good.” She tells him, connecting the next strand of lights to the first as they make their way up the tree with them. 

The song changes and John finds himself blinking at the familiarity of it. He knew Christmas songs. Even when he avoided the holiday, the music was everywhere. Each shop he entered, even if only for groceries, the train stations. Even walking down the street he often heard the carols played over a loudspeaker.

But this song he knew far more intimately.

"I know this one." He says softly.

"Know what?" Helen asks, handing John the new bundle of lights to begin stringing.

"The song. Tchaikovsky. The Nutcracker Suite."

She listens for a moment to the melody and then nods, "it's a popular one."

John hesitates, his heart contracting at the idea of sharing this particular memory. It wasn't a good one but it wasn't the worst, by far.

"You asked me a few weeks ago if I had any memories of Christmas."

Helen nods, "You said you didn't."

"And I don't, in the traditional sense. But I do remember this." He gestures vaguely to the TV, where the music plays from.

Helen sets the bundle that they have been passing in between the branches and comes around to John’s side of the tree. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to." She reminds him.

"It's not bad," John admits, "But it is a little embarrassing."

That makes her smile, "Oh? Do tell."

He's not getting out of it now so he begins to explain, "When I came to America, I went to the school for assassins."

She nods, having heard him reference it in passing.

"The Ruska Roma used a theater as a cover for the entire operation. So while we were all trained in killing, we also had to learn ballet.”

Her eyes widen and John can literally see her make a conscious effort not to react to that new piece of information. It’s almost amusing to watch her try to school her face but he takes pity on her, after all, it is nearly Christmas.

“Go ahead.” He says softly.

“You took ballet!” She nearly shouts at the new revelation.

John nods, “Yes. The skills between ballet and killing people are highly transferable and--”

“Nope. Sorry, stuck on the ballet thing. I need a minute.”

Helen leans against the wall, nodding to herself. She’s still trying to contain a huge smile and a small giggle slips out as she asks, “Did you have to wear a leotard?”

Yeah, he definitely is going to regret this.

“Yes.”

But he can’t bring himself to at the delight etched on her face.

“And you performed? In front of people?”

Again, John nods.

“Who did you play?” her voice breaks slightly at the question and John rolls his eyes.

“It depended on the year. When I was younger, I usually played one of the mice or Clara’s younger brother. My final year, before I ran away, I may have had to play the role of the Nutcracker Prince.”

A sound escapes her and Helen covers her mouth. 

“You’re getting a lot of joy out of this.”

“Is there video footage?”

“No.”

There’s a flash of disappointment in her eyes but it vanishes quickly enough with all the new information she has just garnered.

“This is the best moment of my life.”

“I’m sure that’s an exaggeration.”

“Nope. This right here.” She tells him walking back over to the tree and stringing the lights, “My sweet Nutcracker.”

John rolls his eyes, “I already regret telling you.” 

“Nah, you don’t.” 

He hates how she’s right. And he loves how she’s right as she hands him the end of the string. They pass it back and forth, tangling the tree in a faint white glow.

He still doesn’t understand the reasoning for decorating a tree with lights, only to take them off and pack them away for eleven months. But he keeps going, eventually taking over when the strand goes above her head, out of her reach.

“You’re kinda handy.” She tells him and John circles the tree, placing them along the spots which she cannot reach.

“Guess you’ll have to keep me.”

“I mean, I could replace you with a step-ladder.” She jokes, “But I suppose you have your other uses.”

“And what are those?” John asks as he tucks the end of the strand into the branches and out of sight.

“You keep the bed warm, which is nice. And you know how I like my coffee.” She takes a step backward as John begins stalking toward her, “You’re pretty handsy-- sorry, handy, in the shower, too.”

John catches her, wrapping an arm around Helen’s waist and pulling her towards him.

“Plus, there’s the fact that I’m kind of in love with you.” Her voice softens as he strokes her face.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

John leans down and kisses her gently.

“I love you, too.” He tells her, noting how she shines under the subtle glow of the Christmas lights.

“Then I guess you’ll have to keep me.”

“Forever.” John promises because if she’ll have him, that’s how long he will hold her.

She bows her head, touching her face to his chest, breathing him in for a long moment before she slips out of his arms. She takes his hand and leads him back over to the couch and the boxes of ornaments. 

“This box first.” She tells him, showing him a handful of stacks of orbs in red, and blue, and silver, and gold. “I tend to tuck these further into the tree and save the outer branches for the more personal ornaments.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She smacks his ass playfully, “Go decorate the damn tree.”

John grins, taking a handful of the ornaments over with him. Helen shows him how to use the plain ornaments to make the tree look fuller.

And then they move on to the second box, filled with much more personable ornaments.

She has about six ornaments that take on some various form of coffee cup or mug and she tells him exactly where she got it or whom she got it from. She shows him a tiny book ornament that actually has the story written inside.

“What about this one?” He asks, holding up a small gingerbread man clearly decorated by a child.

“Hannah made that for me a few years ago for Christmas.” She says, referencing her niece. 

“And this one?” He holds up a glass jellyfish, decorated with ribbons and beads.

“Spring break in college. My roommate got it for me to comemorate the day I was stung by one.”

John smirks, hanging it from a high branch so that the tendrils fell down into the tree.

He goes over, snagging a few more from the box. There’s a key, engraved with her first address and the year she bought her first home. An ornament that serves as a picture frame with Helen holding her newborn nephew, claiming World’s Best Aunt. Another mug of coffee and a small grand piano with a year etched into it. He did the math. She would have been six.

“What about this one?” He holds up the piano.

She looks up and smiles at the sight, “My grandmother got that for me after my first recital.”

“I didn’t know you played.”

“I haven’t in years.” She admits, walking over and hanging a tiny wine glass on the tree next to him. “I started taking lessons in kindergarten.. My grandmother had a grand piano in her living room. I used to go there every day to practice. Played all the way through high school.”

“And then?”

She shrugs, “I left home. Went to college. Played a bit in the music practice rooms but those were mostly reserved for students actually studying music. My grandmother passed not long after I graduated. My parents offered me the piano but I didn’t have any place to keep it.” She shrugs, “Think they sold it.”

She hangs a ceramic bee that makes a branch droop. 

“Where’d that one come from?”

“Steve.” She says, referencing her brother, “He used to call me honeybee when I was little.”

It continues to blow his mind that she has an answer for nearly every single ornament.

The frosted-glass Christmas tree once belonged to her grandmother.

The golden retriever was an homage to her first dog, Lucy.

Another picture frame ornament that had a picture of Helen and her siblings, far younger and bundled up in winter clothes standing outside with rosy cheeks.

A soccer ball from her dad.

A globe from her grandfather that had an x over New Jersey and another over where Helen had studied abroad.

There’s another of just Helen, this time as a baby, engraved with Baby’s First Christmas.

Helen sees it and her eyes spark up, “Oh! I almost forgot! I’ll be right back!”

She turns on her heel and runs back up the stairs leaving a bewildered John standing at the tree. He shakes his head and resumes going through her ornament collection.

She doesn’t take long and her footsteps soon echo off the stairs as he hurries back down. There’s a bag in her hand as she reaches him and a smile on her face.

“I picked up a few new ornaments when I went shopping earlier.”

.”Oh?”

She nods, eagerly and reaches into the bag. She pulls out a small glass bottle, the bottom painted in an amber to give the illusion of liquid. It’s labeled bourbon and John laughs as he takes it.

“Where’d you find this?”

“There was a kiosk in the mall.” She reaches into the bag, “Where I also found…” She pulls out another ornament. There was a picture of John inside of it that he recognized from a few days before, when he was making her coffee, still in his pajamas.

Etched on the edge of the frame is Baby’s First Christmas: 2009.

He shoots her a look and she just giggles. 

“Really?” He asks, not offended in the slightest, more amused than anything.

“Yeah,” she flashes a wide grin, “You’re my baby and it’s your first Christmas.”

“You think you’re cute, don’t you?”

“You think I’m cute.” She corrects, stepping over to him, and resting her head against his chest. “I just want this year to be special for you.”

“It already is.” He says, and by fuck does he mean it.

…………

Usually, almost always, John wakes up first.

His internal clock tells him to wake up with the sun while Helen prefers to sleep until six-thirty on the weekdays and eight on the weekends. It works well for him. He doesn’t need as much sleep as she does and he would much rather spend his mornings watching the woman in his arms. 

Christmas morning, he finds, is the exception. Helen is up before the sun has peaked over the horizon. He feels the bed bounce, jolting him out of his restful slumber and suddenly Helen is crawling on top of him.

A welcome occurrence, he thinks, but he doubts this will go where his first thought trails…

“It’s Christmas!” Helen says, bouncing on her knees, further jostling him.

John smirks, still not opening his eyes, and says, “So it is,” his voice still rough from sleep.

“Get up!”

He hums, “Is this what the phrase kid on Christmas refers to?”

She playfully smacks his chest, “Come on!”

John opens his eyes and glances over at the clock. “It’s not even six.”

“So?”

“So all this from the woman who once threatened to castrate me if I ever woke her up before six without a coffee in hand?”

“Its Christmas!” Helen says, like it’s an answer.

John grabs her hips and flips her to her back before she can even recognize what is happening. Rolling on top of her, John slips a hand under her shirt.

"Is it time for me to unwrap my present?"

She laughs and fuck. Everything seems surreal and he can't quite believe that this is his life.

Helen lying under him, her dark curls still mussed from sleep. An excited countenance that is almost contagious as she wakes him up to celebrate a holiday.

He half expects himself to wake up and find out it was all just a wonderful dream.

Good things don’t happen to him, but there she is.

Helen reaches up and places a hand on his cheek. She strokes it lovingly, “Stockings first. Then we can talk about unwrapping your presents.”

John slips off her and takes her hand, pulling her to her feet. “Pajamas stay on?”

She snorts, “You’re not opening presents in a three-piece.”

He kisses her head, “Yes, ma’am.”

Helen grabs him by the hand and practically drags him from the room.

His heart races in his chest. He hoped he had done good enough. Marcus seemed convinced that he had when John had consulted with the other assassin. Marcus assured him that his gifts for Helen were perfect, that she’d be thrilled, but doubt gnawed at him.

He’d never done this before, never had cause to buy another presents. And Google was helpful but he still wasn’t entirely sure if he’d managed to do a stocking right. 

John almost wants to slow her down. Her biggest present waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Too complicated to wrap, he got a novelty gigantic bow from Aurelio that usually went on cars to stick atop the gift.

There would be no missing it, he thinks, as Helen drags him down the stairs and stops.

He hears the hitch in her breath and her head swings back up to look at him, her mouth open.

Better or worse, he’s stunned her into silence.

Her eyes shift back to the grand piano sitting just under the balcony, the red bow’s ribbons flowing down the sides.

“I-- John!”

Her hand goes up to cover her mouth and he’s not quite sure what that means. If he should offer to return it and just forget about the whole thing but then she’s turning, her arms thrown around him and his heart just fucking stops.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

He’s not sure what the feeling inside of him is. It’s warm and expanding. It almost hurts with the intensity that fills him at her reaction. And fuck, but what he wouldn’t give to make her feel that way again.

“How?” Helen asks, slipping her arms from around him, wiping a watery eye.

“French doors come off their hinges.” John says, “Marcus, Aurelio, and I moved it in late last night.”

“And I slept through the three of you trying to move a piano?”

John smirks, still reveling in the foreign emotions overwhelming him, “Why do you think I kept refilling your wine last night? You were out like a light before ten.”

She wacks his arm, her face aglow with a smile, and yeah, he thinks he gets it.

He thinks he understands why people run ragged each year over finding the perfect gift. He understands that there is something beyond the blind materialism, something intricate and beautiful and special about taking care in finding something for the person you love.

Something perfect about watching Helen reach down to brush her fingers along the keys, noting the way her fingers arch to familiar forms as she tests the instrument.

A soft melody fills his usually quiet house.

Lights from the tree brighten his usually dark house.

And Helen fills his usually empty home.

He never wants this to end.

He never wants her to leave.

He’ll make her so happy that she never wants to leave, he decides. He will do whatever it takes to bring her the kind of peace that she brings to him. He’ll spend the rest of his life adoring her, loving her. Making it all worth it for her.

She looks up, smiling at him and fuck.

I’m going to marry her, John thinks.

He steps forward, closing in the space around her and wraps his arms around her waist, resting his head on hers. He closes his eyes and lets the song she is playing wash over him.

“Merry Christmas.” He whispers.

#i'm so sorry that i didn't have time to edit this #but i adore you! #john wick gift exchange #john wick fic exchange #john wiction #john wick fanfiction #overheard at the continental #the matrix has queue #john wick moodboard #john x helen wick #helen x john wick #otp: daisy #john wick christmas

[nocturne-inuyasha-ff]

Chapter Twenty Two: The Others

Nocturne - Chapter Twenty Two: The Others

Rated - M (for suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, and coarse language)

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha.

Her heart pounded in her chest, but the adrenaline that had coursed through her veins earlier left Kagome feeling drained. She stood up slowly, her hand clenched around her bow. The sound of wood cracking, like a branch broken underfoot, caused her eyes to widen. She felt perplexed until it registered that the crack had come from her bow. Kagome glanced down to see her bow snapped in two, barely hanging by a splinter.

Great, she thought, how opportune. Kagome looked around but did not see anyone, nor could she sense the presence of yokai, either full nor half-blooded. With a start, she realized which way Inuyasha had pursued the hanyo spy and dashed off in that direction.

They had gone towards the village where Setsuna had been left. While Kagome knew the girl would be protected, that did not stop her from running as fast as her legs could carry her.

Kagome spotted the group nearly right where she'd left them. She was almost out of breath when she finally came to a stop.

"Mother?" Setsuna questioned at the sight of Kagome running towards them. She ran over to her mother, meeting her several feet away, and hugged her around her middle. Everything seemed fine, Kagome realized, and the only odd thing they had seen was her sprinting towards them.

Sango sauntered over to Kagome as well and grabbed her arm, "What's happening? Where's Inuyasha?"

Kagome glanced over at Shizuka, who'd been left behind with Sango, Rin, and Setsuna. The woman had a faraway look in her eyes, her complexion pale. Kagome wondered what she thought and if she could sense the danger. "We're being watched. There were….others…" Kagome told them. She watched as perplexion washed over them all and for Sango, desperation shortly after.

"Others?" Sango demanded harshly. "What do you mean?" Then, having thought better of it, she turned her attention to Setsuna. "Where did the children go, little one? Before you left?"

Setsuna glanced at her mother, looking for guidance but receiving none. "They said they were going to...umm." A guilty look crossed her face, and she toed the ground nervously. Wherever the group of children, the trainees, had gone to play was not somewhere, they were supposed to go alone.

Rin, ever the calm one despite the circumstances, moved close to Setsuna and put a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay. You can tell us without fear. We must know."

Her thoughtful words allowed Setsuna to open up and whisper that they'd gone to play in a meadow, where the stream passed by. It was a place where families went to play and relax on a hot summer's day, but children were forbidden from going alone due to the wicked current that pushed the stream along. The edge of the stream bed was gentle and shallow. However, several feet out - where the stream widened - it became deep and tumultuous for those unversed in swimming, which many of the village children were.

Sango cursed beneath her breath and looked around, hoping the youngsters had thought better of their ill-advised plan and made for home, but she couldn't have been so lucky. Her husband, Miroku, was nowhere near the village, having left with the twins to visit a nearby town for supplies and news. She had to deal with this and the fear for her younger children on her own.

Kagome knew of the spot. They had visited there often enough years ago. "Rin, you remain behind and look after Setsuna. Go find Kohaku and tell him what's transpired." Her voice was calm and steady, but inside she felt unsettled. Together, Kagome and Sango jogged to where the children were playing.

They arrived in the meadow and could hear the laughter of children echoing amongst the trees and the splashing of water. It was a generally pleasant sound, but it was tainted with the knowledge that their lives may be at risk. It only took a few moments to encroach on the happy encounter. The children all played, carrying on without knowing their felicitous romp had been intruded upon.

Sango breathed a sigh of relief to see her children and the others untouched. Still, with yokai enemies about, they needed to be cautious and regroup back at the village to set up a perimeter. Kagome glanced around with searching eyes, ensuring that they were not being watched. All looked clear, and it was at that moment that a hush settled over the area.

The splashing and giggling ceased as they noticed the adults that had appeared. Sango's two children, Katsu and Hiro, looked equally ashamed at having been caught. Their followers all looked equal parts shocked and outraged that their fun time had been exposed.

"M-mother?" Katsu, Sango's eldest boy, stammered, rising and pulling his exposed legs out of the shallow stream. He shuffled from foot to foot in a guilty manner, avoiding his mother's scrutinizing and angry gaze.

"You all know that you are not allowed here on your own."

One of the younger girls mumbled under her breath but loudly enough for all to hear. "That half-breed couldn't keep its mouth shut."

Kagome's head snapped to the girl's comment. She had to assume this was the 'Mei' Setsuna had complained about. The girl shrunk under Kagome's glare and turned her head away. "Let's go. Back to your parents, all of you." Her authoritative tone prompted the children to jump up and start on their way back, and Sango frowned at her two boys who walked over towards their mother.

Sango grabbed them both their ears and despite the gravity of the situation, Kagome stifled a laugh. She'd seen mothers grabbing kids up by their ears from her timeline in the future, but it was another thing to see it in action. Sango hissed harsh words to her boy while Kagome hurried to follow the other children back to the village, leaving Sango to follow behind with her miscreants.

They hadn't gotten very far before Kagome saw a figure in the distance. She sighed when she realized it was Setsuna. The girl had disobeyed and followed them to the meadow, with Rei following at her side. Once they got closer, the children all gave Setsuna accusing glances. They made sure to tromp past her and express their displeasure without saying their inner thoughts aloud and risking the wrath of the priestess behind them.

Kagome ground her teeth together in annoyance as she took in her young child. "Why have you disobeyed me?"

Setsuna pouted and looked up from under her lashes at Kagome. She bent over and picked Rei up, cuddling him for comfort. "Sorry, mother. I was worried about you. Rei was, too." She held the kitten out, which mewed his agreement.

"You aren't old enough to place yourself in danger," Kagome chastised. "What if something were to happen to you? I could not live with myself, and your father would be devastated."

Setsuna pursed her lips and looked up with watery eyes, pulling Rei back to her chest. Kagome couldn't maintain her stern appearance any longer and dropped to her knees to embrace the girl, careful not to jostle Rei between them. "Let's hurry back."

They still didn't know if the hanyo enemies were nearby, and Inuyasha had not returned, to their knowledge, from chasing after the one who had attacked her earlier. Who knows where they had run off to or whether the man was leading Inuyasha on a game of cat and mouse. Kagome hoped that Inuyasha would keep him away and busy while they ushered the children to safety, but things were never that simple.

A child's scream could be heard from ahead, and Kagome pushed herself up from the ground and saw two forms flying past them. The red from Inuyasha's fire-rat robes was visible as he chased after the hanyo spy. Inuyasha stopped in the clearing in front of the kids, grimacing at the sight of them fleeing and screeching in fear.

"Fuck!" He yelled. His eyes flicked back, taking in Kagome, gripping her daughter tight and Sango with her two boys in her arms.

The other children ran in varying directions to find cover.

Inuyasha growled in frustration. "Get your small asses back here! Fucking idiots scattering all over the damn place!"

"Children!" Sango yelled so that her voice carried over to the younglings. "Remember your training! Regroup!"

The four youths seemed to snap out of whatever panic that had taken them over. Simultaneously, they sprinted past Inuyasha and Kagome to huddle around Sango, who they knew and trusted. They all bore guarded looks bordering on fear. This was likely their first encounter with an enemy outside of the straw dummies that lined the training fields.

The spy jumped out of the woods with a mocking roar. The children shrank back but did not scream from fear. The hanyo seemed to believe he would get a rise from the younglings. He chuckled despite their steely-eyed gazes.

"Keeping the old man on his toes has grown a little tedious." A lopsided grin split his face revealing his long canines. "I guess you lose your edge after you settle down."

Inuyasha grimaced but didn't respond to the jab. "What the fuck do you want, cocksucker?"

"I'm just having a little fun old man."

Kagome tugged on the back of Inuyasha's suikan. His ears swiveled on the top of his head, indicating he'd heard her, but he did not take his eyes off his enemy. Kagome whispered low, "Inuyasha, there were others…"

He turned his head back a fraction to give her an aggrieved look. He'd been so focused on going after the one in front of him that Inuyasha had allowed himself to overlook others' evidence. He cursed under his breath and began to feel slightly unsettled and unprepared for the situation unraveling before him.

Kagome had noticed earlier that Inuyasha was not carrying Tessaiga at his hip, something he seldomly did anymore. Had he been carrying the blade, Kagome figured this hanyo wouldn't be so cocky.

"Who are you and what do you want?" Kagome called out.

Inuyasha sneered at the question. "What the fuck does it matter who he is or what he wants? He'll be dead soon. Let him tell his tales to someone in hell."

The hanyo laughed again, his scared face crinkling with mirth. "You seem to have it backward old man! It will be you who is dead soon, so what is the point in telling you my name?"

"And who will carry the honor of defeating the great Inuyasha? A nameless wonder?" Kagome prodded.

"You may call me Feng," he claimed.

"That's a stupid name," Inuyasha barked out. "You really think someone with a simple name like "Feng" could really take me out?" It seemed like Inuyasha was goading him on, but really he was being a little clever by getting the young and impulsive hanyo to talk.

The goad seemed to work and the hanyo, Feng, looked livid. He didn't get the chance to say or do anything more.

The whirring and clinking of metal could be heard, catching the group off guard. The hanyo quickly dodged an attack from Kohaku's kusarigama. The sickle embedded in the ground where Feng had stood before Kohaku expertly pulled on the chain with his hands, releasing the weapon from the loamy earth and pulling it back.

Kohaku had arrived, bringing with him five other slayers. Rin had done as instructed, notified her husband what was happening, and the taijiya had rallied some of his team to head off the intruders. The other slayers were dressed in typical taijiya fashion, with colored armor pieces covering their shoulders, chest, and waist. All carried vicious-looking weapons that had been primed to slay exactly what stood before them. Kohaku signaled with his hand, and the five taijiya broke off into varying directions, surrounding the hanyo intruder.

Feng laughed as if it were a great joke, amused that someone believed they could best him. This one seemed to think highly of himself, Kagome thought, and that was always a recipe for disaster. Even though the chances of bringing Feng down were high, it was also very probable that there would be a significant loss on their side as well. The hanyo was a wild-card, and like any wild-card, you played them at your own risk.

Another figure appeared running into the clearing, this one with long-white streaming hair. Kagome instantly recognized Shizuka from her delicate appearance. She looked concerned, rightly so, and stopped once she saw the enemy surrounded by taijiya.

Inuyasha looked startled at her appearance. "Get back!" he barked at her, causing her to visibly shrink.

Feng put his hands on his hips and threw his head back with roaring laughter. "You gotta be fucking kidding me!"

The taijiya surrounding Feng tensed, but did not take their collective eyes off their enemy, waiting for a signal from their leader.

Feng gestured with his hands, pushing his arms out towards the woman who was like him. "Would you just look at that! He thought they'd killed you, but I guess they are just too soft."

"The fuck are you talking about?" Inuyasha called out, trying to take the attention off Shizuka while ascertaining what this unsettled hanyo was referring to. "You really do have a few screws loose to come here and fuck with this village."

Feng quivered mockingly. "Ooo, I'm so frightened." His look darkened, and he stood straight, taking a dangerous turn. "To think I could be unnerved by your paltry display of defense?" He scoffed and nodded towards one of the taijiya surrounding him. "These mortals and their "weapons" will do no good when the time comes."

"You talk too much," Inuyasha warned. "So, you can either leave, or I will make you leave. But I promise you won't like where I send you."

"Big words from an old man," the hanyo jeered. He put his hands behind his head and looked towards where Shizuka stood frozen and smiled. "Dear sister...Keyuri? I think that's what Father said your name to be. Or someone else did? I can't recall, though I think he only ever referred to you as a blunder."

Shizuka trembled, her golden eyes wavering with unshed tears. Those words had a noticeable effect on her, her head falling down in defeat.

No longer able to put off his anxious feelings at seeing Shizuka assaulted - even verbally - Inuyasha sped over to her, closing the distance in seconds. He stood in front of her and narrowed his eyes at the hanyo, visually daring him to say more.

Feng shrugged. "I shall pass along your greeting then if you've nothing to say." Then he chuckled to himself, knowing the entertainment of his own words.

Kagome stood now exposed, holding the shoulders of her daughter and her heart racing. She felt woefully defenseless, being human, without any weapons that didn't require close quarters. Even Setsuna was unblooded, having lived a sheltered life, untried in the ways of real combat. Somehow this seemed to be a diversionary tactic.

Movement caught her eye, and the 'others' Kagome had seen earlier all jumped out from their various hiding places. No sooner had they hit the ground, the taijiya surrounding Feng turned to assess this new threat, taking their attention off their primary target. Feng used the diversion to leap over and land on top of Kagome and Setsuna, knocking them down and eliciting a shriek from them both.

Kagome's mind raced along with her thundering heart. What could this wild creature want with her? Why toy with her? She pushed Setsuna almost underneath her body, covering her child with as much of herself as possible to keep the crazy man away.

"I see you went and made one yourself," the hanyo sneered as he crouched over her. His clawed hand went out and picked up a loose strand of Setsuna's long white hair that covered the ground. She shivered and still held Rei close to her chest. The small nekomata made a menacing growl in her arms, a warning.

Kagome smacked his hand away. "Touch her and see where I send you," she hissed, placing extra malice on her emphasis of "I."

"So protective is the bitch of her pup," he laughed.

"Kagome!" Inuyasha yelled reflexively. He had not moved, still standing protectively in front of Shizuka. He seemed at war with himself over whether to protect his current love over his former.

Kagome could see from the corner of her eye as one of the new hanyo stalked closer to where Inuyasha stood. He threatened Shizuka's safety should Inuyasha leave to defend Kagome and Setsuna. Inuyasha knew he was being pinned down and made his choice to stay put.

"I wonder what it is about you that seems to drive them to protect you?" Feng said softly. His arms were now placed on either side of Kagome and Setsuna. "You don't seem that special, and you're not even that pretty." He made an amused face. "Either way, Father wants you." He chuckled at his inner thoughts.

Her spiritual powers teemed just below the surface, ready to spill over and blow the hanyo away. However, Kagome was afraid to unleash the holy light with Setsuna next to her. What impact would that have on her, who also had yokai blood running through her veins? Would it kill her? That was a risk Kagome could not and would not take, so she protected her with her body and life, if necessary.

Kagome heard a rumbling from beneath her, like some feral animal trapped in a corner. At first, she thought the sound came from Rei, who had not yet struggled to be free, but upon second thought, she realized it was coming from the small girl. Setsuna's small arm pushed out from beside her mother and grabbed the hanyo's haori, pulling him closer to them both with a fantastic display of strength for one so small.

"Mother is beautiful," she growled along with Rei. "Father says so!" She released his haori and put her palm flat, with a glowing light emanating from it.

Kagome gaped at the sight, having never witnessed such a thing from her child. She watched in astonishment, and Setsuna released a blast of spiritual energy that sent the hanyo flying backward. Kagome flew up and pulled Setsuna off the ground as well, and they retreated back to where Sango stood to guard the younglings.

They watched curiously as Feng convulsed on the ground for a moment. He had collapsed within himself and grabbed his arms, pulling into a fetal position before his legs pushed straight again. His silver-white hair seemed to glitch, and what Kagome could only describe as a wave of mortality ebbed over him as his yokai features diminished, revealing human ears and coloring for but a brief moment. The entire episode was over all too quickly, and Feng jumped up in shock.

All who watched did so in a shock of their own at the display, and the quarrel was forgotten momentarily. Even the new hanyo intruders had dropped their defenses and gaped openly at their comrade.

Feng grimaced and retreated silently, launching himself away and into the far reaches of the woods beyond the perimeter of the village. The hanyo's brethren followed suit immediately, jumping off and away, leaving Kagome and her friends dumbfounded and alone.

They all hurried back to the safety of the village immediately, no one questioning what they saw. It was best to wait until they could regroup before discussing the matter, lest they open themselves up to another attack they were woefully unprepared for.

Sango led the children to their respective homes, telling each of the child's parents of their disobedience to which they were promised swift punishment for placing their young lives in danger.

They regrouped half an hour later at Sango's home, which was the most significant occupancy in the village by now, boasting multiple rooms and a sliding door.

Rin had accompanied Kohaku to this impromptu meeting after learning of the occurrence, refusing to be left alone for her own safety. She assured her husband that it was much safer among her friends than alone, to which Kohaku grudgingly agreed. He'd initially wanted her far away from them, for fear that they would be attacked again. But, he took solace in knowing her words were valid.

Minus Miroku, who was still away on a working trip with his two eldest daughters, the rest of the group assembled around the hearth. They sat in solemn silence for a moment, each contemplating the severity of the situation. Inuyasha held Shizuka in his arms, whose head was buried in his chest, looking for an outlet to express her quiet grief. Kohaku also held Rin in a loose grip, stroking the side of her arm.

Setsuna broke the silence. "Mother, what did I do to that man?" She stared down at her hand in curiosity, turning her palm up and down.

Everyone in the room, except Rin, also wondered the same thing. Kagome grabbed Setsuna's hand and wrapped it in her own. "It was spiritual power, like mine."

The child nodded her head, not taking her eyes from her hand as if it would spontaneously erupt with light at any moment. Setsuna had never witnessed her mother use her holy powers, there had never been any need, and Kagome had fallen out of practice.

"So she inherited your abilities, big deal." Inuyasha dismissed any relevance with a wave. "But what would be nice to know is what happened and the monk, of all people, may have the best chance of explaining."

Sango nodded in agreement. "I've never seen the likes of it."

Rin spoke up tentatively. She'd been apprised at the circumstances by Kohaku earlier but had not witnessed the oddity. "No one has seen the effects of spiritual power released on one of mixed blood. I imagine what Setsuna possesses is unique."

Sango considered for a moment. "What would kill a yokai, erasing it from existence, does the same for a hanyo, leaving only a human behind."

Inuyasha's eyes flashed with unease at the notion. "We don't know anything."

"You saw it with your own eyes, same as me," Kohaku insisted. "It even cowed our enemy enough to retreat."

"He was a fucking pussy and hyped up on himself like some arrogant little cock."

Kagome shot a needled gaze at him. "Sounds familiar to someone I know."

Inuyasha sneered at the thought. "I ain't nothing like that kid."

"So," Setsuna broke in. "If I did something like that to Uncle Inuyasha, he...he would die?" her soft voice broke.

"No! No, that wouldn't happen. Don't think like that, darling," Kagome consoled. She pulled Setsuna close, mimicking how Inuyasha held Shizuka.

"You really think you can kill me, runt? Ask your mom. I ain't that easy to get rid of." Inuyasha's words seemed to put Setsuna at ease, and she smiled at her uncle.

Shizuka clutched his suikan and looked up at Inuyasha's face lovingly. Kagome couldn't help but think that the woman was an enigma. It was also perplexing and a revelation that the hanyo had called her sister. "Keyuri?" Kagome said, testing out the name.

Shizuka's head snapped up in alarm at the name. Her eyes forlorn while she opened her mouth to say words that would never pass her lips. She quickly closed her mouth and clenched her jaw, nodding her head.

Everyone quickly recalled that event and began articulating their confusion aloud.

"'Sister,' he said."

"She is the half-blood daughter of Fan Tsenpo?" Kagome questioned. "I suppose it makes sense."

"Most yokai would kill a hanyo on sight," Kohaku mentioned, looking at Inuyasha. "No offense," he added quickly, recalling the sensitive topic for several people in the room. Inuyasha grunted his assent, and Kohaku continued. "Why would a daiyokai even deign to mate with a human in the first place?" He then glanced at Kagome, who gave him a pointed look.

"Look," Kohaku said, "All in this room are exceptions to the rule that most yokai are biased, intolerant beings with a superiority complex. It would not make sense for any of you to even exist without a clear intent for the alternative to be true."

"You've made your point, little brother," Sango interjected. "The mystery now lies in understanding why a bigoted daiyokai would go out of his way to do so. From what we know, which is very little, he is unhinged, yet patient."

"This is all too similar to Naraku," Inuyasha recalled. "That fucker would plot the day away. But we don't even know what this new dickhead wants or why he would bother fucking with us."

Kohaku shook his head in disagreement. "It seems fairly clear that he has targeted us in association with Lady Kagome and Lord Sesshomaru."

"Keh. Fucking figures, he would drag us into this shit. Where is he anyway, huh Kagome?"

"Hold your tongue, Inuyasha. Is that the example you set for those who may look up to you?" Kagome chided with a stern tone and gave a subtle look in Setsuna's direction. The girl held her uncle in high esteem, much to Sesshomaru's chagrin. Kagome had made sure that Sesshomaru had nothing derogatory to say about his younger half brother in their daughter's presence, lest Setsuna develop an inferior view of herself.

Inuyasha grumbled to himself. "You know what I mean!"

"I can only imagine that these few slipped through the perimeter, and there are more than what we've seen," Kagome rationed. It had dawned on her that Sesshomaru had kept the severity of the situation to himself. He must have known that these intruders were all half-bloods from across the sea, sent to spy, and stir up trouble. She felt anger well up in her chest to think he'd kept something so important from her as if she were a small child incapable of handling the reality of their circumstances. He was treating her as less than what she was, and it was infuriating to be kept in the dark and coddled like some delicate flower.

Rin stretched her legs and placed her hands upon her large belly, grunting with effort to make even the smallest move. Her husband, Kohaku, sat at attention and helped her move to a new position, ever alert to her needs. Rin had pieced together what her eyes had not seen. "He's created an army…"

"An army?" Inuyasha asked in perplexion. To fathom a battalion of hanyos like himself, was incomprehensible.

"It makes perfect sense. It's genius."

"It's unheard of."

"But, why?"

"Think about it? How difficult would it be to rally an army of yokai? There are always struggles for power within the ranks. And no yokai would dream of allying with humans, so that is out."

Inuyasha would not have it. "No yokai would debase itself to fuck mortal women to knock them up multiple times."

"Not someone like Fan Tsenpo. He is a collector, you said," Kohaku looked to Kagome, who nodded. "He was probably collecting human's imbued with powers and using their offspring to create an army completely loyal to him and completely dispensable. No one would question such a powerful being, especially if he were discreet."

"A half-breed army. All just as powerful as you, Inuyasha, but with no remorse or compassion."

"Fuck."

"My people are trained especially for this. We outnumber them."

"There is no way you can know how many hanyos Fan could have...The man is centuries old, far older than even Sesshomaru. Who knows how long he's been creating his army."

"Do you think Shizuka knows?"

"Leave off it," warned Inuyasha. "I ain't letting you draw her back into this shit. She's already been through enough."

"She can help us. It is in her benefit as well to do so! You think Fan would care to spare her? Especially now that she has aligned herself to his enemy?"

He shook his head. "I said fucking no, dammit!"

Kagome sighed and looked pleadingly towards Shizuka. The woman seemed petrified once her name had been brought up, she may not be any help anyway. Kagome recalled that Shizuka had been accompanying the lady Tsering and could not know what Fan was about. But, her knowledge, even as limited as it may be, could be priceless in their effort.

"Please, Shizuka," Kagome implored. "Share with us what you know. Please help us to protect ourselves and our loved ones." She gestured to those in the room. "You may be the difference between life and death."

Inuyasha growled at Kagome's disobedience, but Shizuka pulled away from his grasp and sat straight. Her once cowering gaze was replaced by a look of resigned confidence. She had not even uttered a word, but her eyes spoke volumes of the depravity she'd witnessed in her life. Shikuza nodded and looked around the room, locking eyes with everyone for a second to instill her allegiance.

Kagome scooted towards Shizuka. "Is there anything you can tell us that may help?"

The woman brought her hands to her chest, crossing them, and nodded.

Sango realized that this would be easier "said" than done. She moved closer, as well. "Let's keep it to yes and no questions, so as not to overwhelm her."

"Will that be okay with you, Inuyasha?" Kagome asked, looking up into his hardened eyes. He scoffed and threw his arms together petulantly. "Shizuka is...um...Fan Tsenpo creating an army."

Shizuka nodded once in response.

"We should know how many bodies he has to call on," Kohaku urged. "Even an estimate would be better than our own misguided guess."

"Are there many?" Kagome asked.

Shizuka pondered for a moment and then nodded, gesturing to herself and taking a hand to slowly point with her palm open in a sweeping motion starting at her opposite shoulder until her hand was outstretched beside her.

Everyone followed the gesture with their eyes, and Kagome chewed on her lip in thought. "What does that mean?"

"A lot…" Sango said.

"The village, maybe?" Setsuna asked timidly. Kagome looked over at her daughter with a smile. So young, and bright, she thought. And innocent to the dark ways of the world, Kagome recalled.

Rin swallowed audibly. "Are you- are you saying there are as many as in the village? That's hundreds..."

Shizuka nodded and looked down in regret. She had no words to express her dismay nor the intricacies that needed to be shared.

Kohaku stood up, gently ensuring Rin was able to support herself. "There is much we need to know and likely not much time to find an answer. Those were not ordinary scouts. They were probes sent for testing our boundaries and finding our weakness. That does not happen unless the enemy is prepared to strike!"

"Calm the fuck down, kid," Inuyasha spat. "That dickhead I was chasing around was just being an arrogant little cock. He wasn't a damn probe. Just some little shit that's too big for his britches and trying to prove himself."

Kagome rolled her eyes in annoyance. "The fact that you, of all people, think that is astounding. You can't actually believe this was just some remarkable coincidence?"

A voice cut into their debate, startling them out of their anger. "Perhaps this one can shed light on the answer."

o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o

Fanfiction - Chapter Twenty Two

#Chapter Twenty Two #Nocturne #Sesskag #Sesshome #Sesshomaru #Kagome #Fanfic