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making-monsters-happy · 4 months

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New Years Vampire Romance

Good evening! I have a new romance I wrote for New Year's. Hopefully, you guys like it. Let me know if you'd like to see more from them or another couple...yeah. I love reading yall's messages, and if you liked it. It's pretty hot, but I'm biased. It's a little under 2k words.

18+ only.

Nsfw..

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You leaned back in your seat slightly, trying to get a better glimpse of the creature standing before your oven. He looked human enough; a brown mess of loose curls sat on his head, pushed back from him, continually running his hands through it to push it out of the way of his face. He was at least 6’5; you remember how he leaned down to get in the door once he was invited in, almost like how he was hunched now over the stove. He turned it on and paused, facing you. His skin had no pores and was sun-kissed, and you found yourself compelled to reach out and touch his face. His warm red eyes caught yours, and you looked away without meaning to you. No matter how used to seeing them you thought you were, it was always jarring when he looked at you with such intensity. You couldn’t help but wonder what he saw in you. A meal? Something weak? Something titillating? There was some attraction; he hadn’t killed you, even when you’d done what no one in their right mind in your village would: you’d invited a vampire into your home. Maybe the attraction was just on your end; they could do that to humans, right?

While you were insane for offering him refuge, it wasn’t his sharp features that caused you to invite him in. If you lived to tell the tale and someone asked you, you’d say you’d been tricked into letting him in. When you first saw him, he was in the form of a small brown bat. Bats carried all sorts of diseases, but when you saw the tiny creature on your doorstep, you felt compelled to help it or put it out of its misery. All you said to the beast as you returned with a towel to pick it up was, “Let’s get you inside and fixed up.” The next thing you knew, you felt a puff of air hit you so hard you shut your eyes and took a few steps back. When you opened them, he walked inside your home, thanking you for your hospitality and introducing himself as Alessandro.

“You’re staring at me.” His voice is deep; it makes him seem louder than he is. You, on the other hand, find yourself almost whispering.

“Should I not?”

“Most say it’s wise not to; they believe it’s easier for us to corrupt your mind if you do.”

“Is that true?”

Alessandro doesn’t answer your question; he smiles, flashing his sharp fangs, and sits up, looking down at you. You can feel a longing starting to ache from in between your legs. You straighten yourself in your seat, your nipples protruding from the thin silk night robe you wear during the winter to help keep you warm during the night. You wonder if he notices.

“Why are you here?”

“Because you invited me in, did you not?”

“On false pretenses.”

He walks past you and goes towards your curtains, looking out of them. You take a deep breath as he walks by; the husky scent of the outdoors and an unfamiliar cologne leaves you wanting to smell more.

“I’ve been watching you. Your curtains are very thin; it’s not hard to look in, even for human eyesight. The men leaving the brothel may, at best, be able to see a silhouette when you’re changing into your nightgown, but you must remember my eyes are far better than that. I see everything.”

You readjust in your seat; the silk of your nightgown is pressed up against your cunt, and you feel the fabric getting wet. The kettle starts to scream, and you cringe, jumping up and running over to take it from the heat. Alessandro steps behind you, his large hand engulfing yours, and leads it over a cup, helping you pour.

“I can only watch someone I want sit alone in bed, touching themselves, moaning out to no one for so long, imagining it to be my name before I want to hear the real thing. Does that make sense?”

You nod, your face starting to feel as warm as between your legs as he steps closer to you from behind. You can feel pressure against your lower back from the front of his pants as he drops petals from a flower you don’t recognize into the hot water. Without a second thought, you find yourself grinding back into whatever is nearest your ass to get some friction. It helps, but it is not enough, and you let out a noise of disappointment as he steps to the side and grabs the cup, blowing on it and taking a few sips.

“I didn’t know vampires could…drink teas. Or wanted to frankly.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know.”

He holds the cup and tips it towards you, shaking it some. The green petals float around, and you look up at him.

“What is it?”

He doesn’t move, his hands still extended towards you. You blow at the steam and drink what’s left in the cup. You cough and frown at him, looking at the leftover greenery in the cup. It’s bitter, and as much as you want to gag, you keep it down. It tastes like something you’ve had, but you can’t put your finger on it.

“I wouldn’t say we drink tea much, but we do like to dabble in recreational drug use.”

“So, you drugged me?”

Alessandro laughs and walks over towards your room with that knowing grin still on his face.

“I wouldn’t say it like that, no. It’s just a plant we like to use to increase blood flow. I get a little nippy in the bedroom at times.”

You walk behind him and put a hand to your cheeks. They are already starting to feel warmer than they had in the kitchen.

“Well, that makes sense for your victim, but what does it do for you…”

You trail off and feel your eyes start to shut. The graze of your silk robe touching any part of your body set off alarms; your nipples feel so sensitive that you reach up, pressing your palm to one and then the other. Whimpers kept escaping your lips without meaning to. When you open your eyes, Alessandro lay in the bed in his boxers, nuzzling into sheets, his fangs hanging over his bottom lip. You can’t help but follow the trail of hair from his chest down to his boxers with your eyes.

Now, you could put your finger on it. Everyone you knew in your community had at least talked about this. Maybe couples needed the herbs to spice up their sex lives or to have more stamina for one another. That explains why any stimulation right now sends you over the edge and into flames.

“It’s a very fast-acting aphrodisiac. Come here; I want to feel you.”

Alessandro took your hand and led you to the bed, kissing up your shoulders and to your neck, starting to lick over your vein. You leaned your head to the side, moaning, your hand reaching into the front of his boxers. This time, he’s the one who jolts from your touch.

Your hand grasps his member, and you rub your thumb over the cum that was already leaking from his tip. With every swipe of your thumb, he whines in your ear and starts to grip your breasts, kneading them roughly before leaning into one and suckling in, looking up at you with his warm eyes.

You arch your back and started to pump his thick cock before his hand goes over yours again and gently grips you, making you stop.

“If you keep going, I’m going to cum.”

“So?”

Alessandro’s grip loosens, but he continues to help you, watching as the two of you stroked his cock. Although it looked like it was hot to the touch, he was still a dead man walking and maintained a cool temperature even with the assisted stimulation.

You lean down and lick the base, shaking your hips in the air to show off your body; before you can get it in your mouth, there is cum squirting over your closed eyes and down your nose. You laugh a bit but don’t feel him soften in your hand. He takes your robe off haphazardly and wipes your face with it, leaning down over you while you lay on your back.

“I’m bewitched. You bewitch me.”

Alessandro pushes your legs apart and starts to rub at your clit; you reach down and move his hand.

“I need to feel you, all of you. I want you to drink from me.”

Before you can say anything else, he’s sliding into you, his hands at your shoulders, holding you still as he plunges deep into you. He wasn’t the biggest you’d ever had, but he knew how to work with what he’d been given. It could’ve been a combination of his experience and the herbs, but you’d never had someone fill you up the way he was now.

Alessandro holds up your hips for you, pulling you close so you meet his every thrust. All you have to do is sit there and take it; you grip at his hair, then stop self-consciously, your hands going to the sheets. You’d been told in the past that you pulled hair too hard, or when you gripped at your partner’s back, it would hurt them. Since then, you have always made sure to grasp the sheets instead.

Alessandro lets your hips go and hoists one of your legs up, letting his weight rest on top of you, chest to chest, while his hips work. He takes your hands from the sheets and moves them back to his hair, looking back at you panting.

“Pull it.”

“Yeah? Is that okay?”

You tangle your fingers into his curls and pull his hair, making his head snap back. He nods, moaning loudly in your ear and exposing his fangs before biting your neck. Your back arches and you begin to grind into him, your clit rubbing against his hairy pubic bone. You can’t quiet yourself if you want to. You grip his hair harder, and with a scream, you feel an orgasm come over you so hard your vision goes black.

You wake up and roll over finding Alessandro on his back, his cock soft resting on his thigh, and eyes closed. You were in one of your nightshirts, both of your dirty clothes piled in the corner.

“You’re finally awake. I cleaned you up while you were sleeping.” He opens one eye and turns toward you before rolling on his side to see you better.

“I expected you to leave. Not that I wanted you to, I guess I just thought…”

Alessandro smiles and you noticed his fangs stained red with blood, your blood. He licks his lips and presses a kiss to the top of your forehead.

“I told you; you’ve bewitched me. Now you really can’t get rid of me.”

“Well, as long as we can drink that tea every now and then…I think that’s okay with me.”

You smile and bury your face in his chest.

#monster boyfriend #teratophilia writing #my writing #monster lover #vampire boyfriend #vampire x reader #vampire x human #monster boy #monster romance #monster bf #smut #female reader #fem reader

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peakyblindersxx · 3 years

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May I request a john smut in which, despite being the cocky beast that he usually is, he manages to get all gentle and intense when, after years of mutual pining, he finally makes love to ada's best friend who's younger and totally inexperienced. Idk I just need this to be fucking intense, like John suffocating his desire for ages and now finally indulging in his worst temptation and showing her what lust is... please i'll burn in hellll

a/n: first of all let me say: this killed me. like, it’s literally all i can think about. god help me. but thank you so fucking much for requesting this bc i liked it sooo much that i decided to make a mini series out of it with the help of my babe @stxdyblr-2k who was sweet enough to offer to ghostwrite on the series 🥰 and to all my other angels who requested fics, don’t worry i will get them done! just wanna give you guys the best quality work i can. my 1st priority are some tommy requests i got, as well as some michael ones after :)

love, abi xxx

whiskey business - john shelby x reader (1 of ?)

warnings: nsfw! eventual smut, slow burn, john being sexy as all hell but also soft

John couldn’t tear his eyes off of you. From the moment you walked into the Garrison, arm loosely linked with Ada’s, clad in a black lace dress that hugged you just right, he couldn’t stop staring. Even Tommy and Arthur had noticed, cracking some joke about him being pussy whipped. The words floated right over his head, his mind on one thing only. The last time he had seen you, you were barely eighteen, cheeks pink as you waved goodbye out the train window to Ada as she sobbed. Ada had always had a flair for the dramatic, but the two of you had practically been attached at the hip your entire lives. So, he consoled her, reminding her that university wasn’t forever, that you would be back soon enough. And back, you were, red-stained lips sipping at a glass of something that Ada had practically shoved in your face. You weren’t a girl anymore, black heels crossed at the ankle as you sat across the room in a booth, laughing as Ada waved her arms, telling some sort of story.

“Just fuckin’ talk to ‘er, John-boy,” Arthur’s voice cut through John’s train of thought like a sharp knife, and he focused his eyes on his two brothers sitting at the booth across from him, clouds of smoke from Tommy’s incessant smoking heavy in the air around them.

“Fuck off,” John returned as he stood, earning a chuckle from Tommy.

“That’s right,” Arthur shouted as John made his way towards the bar, rolling his eyes at his older brothers. “Make sure you show her a real good time, eh?” Arthur’s voice was soon drowned out by the crowd around John, as they parted to let him walk through. He didn’t even see them, his eyes trained on your smile. Fuck, you were pretty.

***

“So, then I fucking kicked him in the balls.” Ada’s eyes sparkled triumphantly as she recalled the time she’d incited a riot, managing to cause great injury to a certain part of a policeman’s body. She did so casually, like it was no big deal. You couldn’t control your laughter as Ada grinned, pleased that she’d been able to make you laugh. “Fuckin’ missed you, Y/N,” she professed, shooting the rest of her gin and gesturing at the bartender to “leave the fuckin’ bottle, already.”

“Missed you too,” you smiled back at her, happy to be back in Birmingham in the company of an old friend. London was beautiful, but lonely. There was something inside you that missed the dirty streets, the crowded pubs bursting with familiar faces.

“Had to come over here myself to make sure it was you,” A deep voice interrupted your reverie and you looked up to see none other than Ada’s older brother John, looking even handsomer than the last time you’d seen him, in a grey-three piece suit, a cigar hanging from his lips. You’d had the hugest crush on him growing up, and the butterflies swimming around in your stomach seemed to confirm that you still found the tallest Shelby brother irresistible.

“Hi, John,” You offered him a shy smile and scooched over as he slid into the booth next to you, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your cheek. You couldn’t help but drink in the smell of his cologne, the various drinks that Ada had encouraged you to down making you press yourself closer to him.

“M’kay, if you’re going to fuck, at least wait until I’m gone.” Ada’s voice snapped you out of it and you looked away, a pink blush staining your cheeks.

“Says the one who managed to fuck three of my best mates before you left school,” John retorted, causing Ada to roll her eyes, shooting her whiskey and pouring the three of you another glass each.

“I feel like getting drunk, and I’m not doing it alone,” Ada announced, causing both you and John to crack a smile at her forcefulness.

“Good thing we took a cab here,” you returned, before shooting your whiskey. If you were going to have to stare at John all night, you thought, you might as well be drunk doing it. Wasn’t like he was going to be staring back.

***

Ada was shitfaced, dancing in the middle of the pub. Luckily, Isaiah had stepped in as her partner, making sure her stumbling didn’t cause her to trip and fall. Unluckily for you, this left a tipsy you and John alone tucked into a booth in the corner of the room, out of view. The conversation was friendly, and you were trying your best to keep your mind off the way you could see John’s forearms practically bulging out of his suit. It wasn’t fair, you thought to yourself, for him to walk around looking like that. Especially when you knew that he was probably fucking the latest movie star, or something. It was almost impossible for you to keep your head straight, yet you managed to keep it civil. However, you couldn’t help your gaze from drifting to his lips. God, they were so pink and looked so soft, it was unfair. You couldn’t stop yourself from imagining how they’d feel on your mouth, let alone other parts of your body. Jesus, you were fucked.

A third of a bottle of whiskey later, you couldn’t help but let yourself slide closer to him, heart beating fast in your chest as you sat tucked into his side, his arm around you as you laughed at a joke he’d made, something about the stick up Tommy’s ass. Your eyes shone as they met his blue ones, his arm sliding down until his fingers were brushing against your waist, radiating heat into your skin.

“Y’know, I’d tell you how fuckin’ pretty you look tonight, but I think you already know that,” John rumbled into your ear, lips just barely brushing against your neck. Your breath hitched, and he noticed, a small grin spreading across his lips.

“You’re something else, you know that?” You shot back, a small smile threatening to take over your lips.

“M’not just sayin’ that. Couldn’t take my eyes off ‘ya, since you walked in.” John wasn’t kidding. For a second you didn’t know how to reply, staring up at him with a slight look of disbelief. The whiskey, however, had other plans, and had decided to respond for you.

“Can't keep your hands off me now." You smirked, waiting for him to escalate the moment, anticipation and liquor silencing the blaring alarm in your mind. God, you shouldn't want him as badly as you do.

"Can you blame me?" He muttered, dragging his fingers across the lace of your dress, tracing the pattern's loops absentmindedly, watching your jaw tense and lips part to take a gasping breath, your jacket having long vanished into the chaos of the pub. Your arms wound themselves around his neck, fingers twisting into his short hair. "Fucking come 'ere lass."

His strong arms lifted you onto his knee, gripping a thigh to help you balance, the friction of his rough hand against the stiff fabric pushing your dress up slightly. The need for more and the desire to know him completely intoxicated you far more than anything from a bottle; you'd never felt as though you were on fire from your drunk hookups. His fingers found the zip of your dress, tugging it down desperately, gripping the flesh of your exposed shoulder blades. A small groan erupted from your lips as you felt him chuckle below you, pressing a thumb to your lips to quieten you.

"John," you whined, pouting playfully against his thumb.

"I'll sort you out, I swear," He muttered, slipping his thumb between your lips. Instinctively, you sucked, locking eyes with him, his hand straying from your back to roughly grab your jaw, holding your gaze. "But if you're going to scream your 'ead off, we'll get caught."

"You wish you could make me scream, John-lad."

"Come off it, I could ruin you, Y/N." He stated, lifting your jaw, as though memorising the construction of your face, tone brimming with a cocky confidence only John could make attractive. "You want that?"

"More than anything." The words tumbled out of your mouth thoughtlessly, watching how his jaw tightened in response as you attempted to read his expression. He studied you for what must've only been a few seconds, but the moment passed so slowly, you could barely remember what it felt like to not be examined by his dominating blue eyed stare.

His grip guided your face to his, fingers tilting your chin so John's lips could brush against yours, before pulling you into a heated almost aggressive kiss, the straps of your dress barely grazing your shoulders, the hem of your dress bunching around your waist as he reached down your back to grab your bum in a firm squeeze. Your mouth gaped open in a gasp of pleasure, John taking the moment to run his tongue against your lips, gaining access and deepening the kiss. You were so caught up in the thrill of John's seduction that you hadn't noticed his hand suddenly pull away after moving your skimpy underwear to one side. You had instinctively ground your hips against him, he'd broken the kiss to let out a string of curses, complimenting you through his quickening breaths (“Fuckin’ wet for me already, aye?”), gripping your thigh. But as soon as he had pulled the thin silk from your thighs, the atmosphere shifted, his lip curling in frustration as his hands left your skin as though your flesh was suddenly scalding.

"John?" You prompted, resting a hand on his shoulder, noticing the dark shadows under his eyes for the first time.

"It's getting late."

"What?" Your voice sounded high and whiny, you mentally scolded yourself for sounding so needy. It was embarrassing to be rejected by the man you've admired for many years, but even worse to be openly vulnerable and so pathetic in front of your best friend's brother.

Ada.

Oh fuck.

Realisation hit you, it was either that or the unholy quantity of alcohol you'd downed which turned your stomach. You had gone too far this time. It was one thing to flirt with John and desire him from a distance, it was an absolute betrayal to have sex with him, knowing Ada's insecurity about being used to get close to her gangster brothers- sex, power and politics. You had sworn during those tearful walks around the canal that you'd never hurt her. You couldn't do that to her.

Your sudden panic must've been obvious, you tried to stand up from John's lap, stumbling slightly, only regaining balance due to a sudden arm across your back, anchoring you upright.

"No one has to know. It's our secret yeah?" He muttered into your ear, his words comforting.

You nodded silently, the reality of the situation settling in. Your hands are shaking by your sides, John catches them, locking his fingers with yours.

"It's fine, now. Nothing happened yeah?" He stood up in front of you, his muscular physique looming before you, the creases across his torso reminding you that just a few minutes ago his body was under yours, he was breathless, needing your skin against his, desperate and vulnerable. "I'll zip you up. Turn around."

His hands dropped from yours to fumble clumsily with your zip, struggling in the gloom and fog of intoxication, he eventually succeeded, the lace clinging to the curve of your hips, waist, back and chest again. You wished it was him instead that was skimming your figure but you pushed the thought away with a simple, "Thanks."

"I'll walk you home yeah?" He offered, as he straightens your skirt and his tie, allowing you to fix his crumpled shirt collar and the row of shining buttons below his throat which you'd ripped open as he whispered dirty nonsense in your ear, smirking at how you arched your back and swore back at him through your moans.

"Isaiah already said he would, it'd be better for us both that way. You know how people around here talk." You replied, glancing at the mirror on the wall of the booth to quickly smooth your tousled hair. Despite only recently returning to Small Heath, you'd already encountered the rife gossiping and quickly realised your neighbour was incapable of minding his own business. "Nobody has to know, right?"

John nodded, disappointed but appreciating your rationale and quick thinking despite your state, "Right."

"Good night, John," You said politely, ignoring the tension in his tone and the sudden soft sadness of his eyes, turning your back and walking to the door. Back to the sticky dance floor, back to Ada, Isaiah, Finn, Tokyo, back to spilling drinks, ashing cigarettes, back to noise, safety and far from the man who made your morals vanish with the same lines he uses on probably every single one of his conquests. Fuck it. You were going to enjoy it, you sped up your pace in your heels, trying to ignore your shaking legs. You tried to ignore the guilty twang in your gut when Ada screamed your name across the pub and stumbled over, dragging some lad on her arm, pressing drunken kisses to your forehead and cheeks.

You couldn't help but look back to see his shadow sloping away into the darkness of the booths closer to the dance floor, being bullied mercilessly by his brothers you assumed. You watched him fake a smirk, take the knuckles to his brow from Arthur, snap an insult back to Thomas and settle into his rightful seat. You only shifted your gaze to Ada for a moment but when you looked back up, he was staring at you, jaw tense, icy stare burning into yours, arms folded on the table, the gold chains of his sleeve garters barely glinting in the dim light. He looked away but you could see his cheeks were flushed with blood even in the glow of the oil lamps.

Pretending nothing happened was going to be impossible.

***

to be continued!

#john shelby smut #john shelby x reader #john shelby imagine #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders imagine #john shelby masterlist #peaky blinders masterlist #john shelby fluff #john shelby x y/n

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a-libra-writes · 2 years

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Salt & Snow - Chapter 8

Ships: Ned Stark x Reader, Brandon Stark x Reader

Summary: The much-anticipated feast (and ball) is underway, leading to the sort of drama and feelings one would expect. Unfortunately, the Stark's introverted ward finds herself in the middle of it.

(this is a long one...)

“You truly have no luck with animals,” Lyanna sighed as she looked over her friend’s split palm. The wound was healing well, though she’d likely have a scar. It didn’t bother Y/N as long as she could still paint.

“Only with hooved beasts.” The Caspian girl huffed in embarrassment. “I’ve had my fill of the forest and its creatures for a year.”

“Now you just need to be chased by a bear, and perhaps a stag — then you can be finished.”

“Whoever heard of a stag running toward someone?” Y/N said, then added, “Lyanna, you’re trying to put off the inevitable.”

Her companion sighed dramatically, stretched out in the most unladylike way possible, and leaned all the way back in her chair to yawn.

“And what of it?”

Y/N grabbed Lyanna’s wrist and pulled her up. “It’s one thing to avoid lessons, it’s another to keep others waiting.”

“You’re the considerate one, Y/N, not I.”

Lyanna protested the whole way to the empty sitting room. Normally the girls would’ve dressed in their private bedroom, but the occasion meant they had to have maids tend to their hair and help squeeze them into their gowns. For a young Southern lady of a great House, getting a new dress made for a special event was exciting and expected. In the North, extravagant feasts and galas were just as uncommon as making new clothes that would only be worn once. This harvest feast would be an exception.

The Stark girl may have been difficult with the seamstress — flinching when a needle poked her, sighing when she was asked to stand for an hour, fidgeting as they fixed this or that. Y/N sat with her, trying to be supportive and bluntly telling her to stop being difficult. Y/N could admit she was a little jealous. She looked longingly at the different fabrics the seamstress laid out, watched her debate which ones to use. Y/N found the process fascinating and, yes, she loved the end result. Who wouldn’t?

Well, Lyanna. Y/N was sure she’d be content to dress up, look approvingly in the mirror, then dress down and go back to riding horses. Practical as always, Lyanna worried about how she might keep it clean through the evening, and managed to talk the seamstress out of a long skirt and trailing sleeves.

Y/N knew they were late by the way the maids descended upon them in the parlor. They were quickly dressed down and made to sit while the women scrubbed their faces and brushed out their hair.

“Can’t we do this ourselves?” Lyanna said to Y/N, the only one willing to listen. A brush passed through a big knot, and she clamped her mouth shut in a grimace. Y/N’s hair was in better condition, but she disliked how tight the women were braiding it. She responded to her friend, “Don’t you know, Lyanna? Beauty is suffering.”

They were able to talk better once the maids were busy putting in hairpins. Lyanna wanted a typical Northern style, simple and elegant, while Y/N’s mother wouldn’t stop begging her to try something more Southern. As much as she liked seeing her family again, it was difficult to spend time with them when her mother was overpowering every conversation with her appearance and her decorum.

“It’s a shame your Uncle Cole couldn’t come as well,” Lyanna said. As usual, she was often thinking in the same direction as Y/N. “I wanted to hear about his trip to Braavos.”

“I did as well. He told me he traded many beautiful things, and he met a water dancer. I wish he wrote more about it.” Y/N sighed. Uncle Cole could talk a man’s ear off when it came to his escapades, but he was never good at putting the same story down in letters. “We’ll just have to ask my father… if Mother will let me go for a moment.”

“’Not likely.”

Y/N sighed again. She was shocked her mother wasn’t here now, dictating exactly how she’d look and how she’d wear her dress. It was an older gown that she still fit into, and she was surprised her mother had nothing to say about that. Y/N didn’t want to complain too loudly in front of Lyanna, though. Perhaps she would’ve been more willing to participate in the festivities if Lady Stark were here to coax and encourage.

Lyanna lifted her arms for the maids in a rare act of obedience, letting them help her into the deep blue gown. The coloring suited her wonderfully, and she was pleased that her request for shorter sleeves was granted. There were silver and grey details throughout the dress, mainly in the embroidery of wolves, weirwoods and roses. Y/N admired it while Lyanna was laced in.

“You must admit this is a very charming detail,” Y/N pointed to the bodice, where little wolves were hidden amongst the blue roses. The larger wolves were toward the bottom of her dress, racing after each other.

“So it is. I’m not completely a wildling, I do appreciate pretty things,” Lyanna laughed. “I just think others wear them better.”

“Nonsense. This is perfect for you.” Y/N stood back, taking in the full image of Lyanna’s long, dark brown hair that was finally tamed and braided into something resembling a lady’s. Combined with the gown, her silver-grey shoes and her bright grey eyes, she was sure to attract the most attention. The finery was only enhanced by her lively disposition.

Y/N looked around the room for her own clothes, and saw nothing. The maids were confused, then worried. “I apologize, milady, we must have… Perhaps it was left in your room.”

Another maid said, “I thought Lady Talia said she was —”

A strange knock was at the door, sounding more like a dull thump than someone using their knuckles. The maids looked amongst each other again, then one opened the door just a crack. She opened more fully once she saw the visitor. “Lady Talia! Is that —?”

“Yes, yes. Please take it off my hands, would you?”

The maid obeyed, and Y/N’s mother entered the room without a burdensome chest in her arms. It was heavy oak, and decorated with manta rays, whales and ships. The maids wasted little time in taking it off her hands. Y/N wanted to ask about it, but her mother was already rushing toward Lyanna.

“Oh! Don’t you look like the picture of a proper lady. If only Lyarra could see you now — ah, the old gods rest her. You’ve grown into a fine woman, Lyanna.”

Lyanna shifted uncomfortably under the praise and the scrutinizing eyes of Lady Talia. She just nodded. “Thank you, my lady.”

Y/N brought her mother’s attention away from Lyanna by asking, “Mother, what is in that chest?”

Her mother grinned in a rare expression of levity. Normally a woman so serious and put together, she seemed positively giddy today. Y/N and Lyanna traded worried glances. “Well...” Lady Talia gestured to it with a flourish. “Why don’t you open it and find out?”

Their apprehension went right out the window. Y/N opened the trunk, remembering how the little locks worked on this particular one. She hadn’t seen it since … well, since she arrived at Winterfell. The nostalgic smell of the oak was pushed aside by her insatiable curiosity. Lyanna leaned over her shoulder to peek.

“Oh!” She gapsed. “It’s like the night sky!”

Folded in front of them was a thick bolt of fabric — no, it had to be clothing — that was so dark, it seemed to soak up the blue velvet interior of the chest. Y/N hesitated, then reached forward and took it in her hands. The fabric was unbelievably soft, and smooth and shapeless, and when she lifted it out of the chest, she realized with a soundless gasp that it was a gown. The light from the window allowed her to see the slight shimmer in the blackness, and inside the sleeves was the rich, cerulean blue of her house.

Lyanna eagerly helped her hold it up, and the maids gathered to swoon and touch the fabric with them.

“There’s more!” Y/N exlcaimed, reaching in for something else that was shimmering black and deep blue. It was a cape, or rather, a capelet meant to be draped around her shoulders and worn with her dress. While the outside was the same black material, inside were shades of blue and cerulean fabric stitched together, meant to mimic the ocean waves.

Her mother was almost bursting with an excitement that made her seem just as young as the girls. “Try it on,” She urged, gesturing to the maids to hurry. They needed no hurrying, though. Even Lyanna giggled as Y/N was dressed, and everyone kept asking Y/N to turn this way or that so the fabric might shimmer again. Y/N looked down at the bodice, nothing the tiny little pearls sewn in. Her sleeves were tight against her skin and almost covered the top of her hands, but the capelet attached to them so when she raised her arms, one could see the ocean underneath.

“Spin around again!” Lyanna said. “Now turn this way! How clever, you look just like a ray!”

Y/N laughed and indulged her. Lyanna took her hands and they swung their arms like girls. Lady Talia stood between them, gently putting her hands on their shoulders. She was still smiling even as she said, “Now, girls, we needn’t mess our hair and clothes so early in the evening.”

Instead, Y/N put her arms around her mother for hug. “How did you… ? When did you have it made?”

Lady Talia smiled and gently patted her head. “You’ll have your uncle to thank. I asked him to search up and down the Free Cities for something just right. I still can’t believe he found such a beautiful fabric; do you know he’s worn the same boots for three years straight?”

Y/N giggled, feeling lighter than air. The dress itself felt like air, even with the capelet, and she had a small worry of being cold — well, with all the dancing and people inside the feast hall, it was better to be too cool than too hot.

“I’ve hit my head at some point,” Lyanna said. “I think I’m excited for tonight.”

“As you should, Lyanna,” Lady Talia said, ignoring how the girls were grinning to themselves. “This is a wonderful opportunity for you. You’re women grown now, and you ought to consider the sacred duty to your houses —”

“Milady,” One of the maids, blissfully unaware of how she was rescuing Lyanna and Y/N from yet another lecture, timidly pointed toward the open window. “The time …”

Lady Talia sighed. “Gods be good, is the hour already so late?” She patted at her perfectly styled hair, then leaned down to kissed Y/N on the forehead. Lyanna was next. “I’ll see you soon, girls.”

She was gone in a flurry, bringing a maid with her to ensure her appearance stayed tidy until the last possible moment. The others were left to touch up Lyanna and Y/N, though eventually they sent the maids away, not wanting to be fretted over. Once they were truly alone, Lyanna let out a deep breath.

“Y/N. Your mother is very kind, but —”

“I know,” Y/N said. “I suppose I forgot how she gets when she’s … well, nervous.”

“Besides all that, I can’t believe she kept this a secret!” Lyanna walked around her several times, gently tugging at her capelet each time. “I won’t have to worry about suitors anymore. You’ll keep them busy.”

“That’s a terrible jape.”

“Ooh, just wait until Ned sees you —”

“Don’t jape about that, either!” Y/N’s hands flew to her face. The hearth was far across the room, but now she was feeling too warm. Lyanna laughed at the expected reaction.

“If it makes you feel better, you should think about all the grumbling the barbers are having to deal with.” Lyanna laughed. “Can you imagine them holding down Ben while they manage that hair? Or trying to tame that beard Brandon is so damned proud of?”

Lyanna might have woken up anxious and annoyed, and Y/N might have started nervous and excited, but now both girls were silly with giddiness. They headed for the Great Hall, chattering all the while. When Y/N glanced out the windows, she saw the flood of banners coming in through Winterfell’s gates. There was the horse of the Ryswells, the sun of the Karstarks, the axes of the Dustins, and several others. Winterfell would be full of guests, the courtyard would end up covered in horses and tents and sword men, and Winter Town’s only two inns would be full to bursting.

They entered one of the finer sitting areas the Keep had. It was startling to see Lord Stark outside of armor, and besides that, someone had tamed his long black hair and drawn it back… He actually looked neat. The broad man turned to the girls, but his words stopped in his mouth.

“It’s just me, father,” Lyanna said, making the first step forward. Lord Stark’s deep grey eyes had gone from impatience to sadness so swiftly, and Y/N hadn’t seen such a look on him in some time.

“There now, I’m fine enough,” The large man said gruffly. He reached an arm out to Lyanna, but soon had both girls in his strong arms, laughing to himself. “Well! Haven’t you girls grown. I confused Lyanna for a lady, but now I see she still has a ways to go.”

“I beg your pardon!” Lyanna retorted, and Lord Stark only laughed again. He released the girls and looked them over again.

“Your mother would have been happy to see you like this.”

“I know,” She said. Lyanna pressed her palms against her fine gown, and the two Starks stood there, both unable to give more words to what they were feeling. Again the mood dropped, and Y/N wished to lighten it. It seems she didn’t need to. The three heard rapid footsteps echoing off the hall, and Benjen burst into the parlor, his hair already falling out of a topknot and his chest heaving.

Y/N put her arms out, trying to stop him from colliding into her. Benjen cried out and managed to stumble back, almost tripping over his own feet.

“A little early to be making a fool of yourself, boy,” Lord Stark grunted. “You’re running like the Others are at your heels.”

“Well, father, you aren’t too off — Sorry, Y/N, did I hurt you?”

“No.” She shook her head. “What did you —?”

“You look nice, by the way. Ned will fancy it—”

“BENJEN!” Brandon’s voice bellowed from down the hall.

“You actually look nice, too, Lyanna. They managed to get all the horse stink off.”

Lyanna lunged for Benjen, but he darted away. He was ready to slip out of the room, but Brandon’s arm shot out and he grasped the slighter boy’s collar. Benjen’s nice doublet was instantly wrinkled as he was yanked back in the room.

“What were you saying about me not being a lady, father?” Lyanna asked daintily.

Lord Stark groaned and shoved the two boys apart. “Fine, I’ve got two ladies, and two boys that act as though I raised them in a forest.”

Brandon started, “It’s not my fault Ben is a menace —” But his words were drowned by Lord Stark’s further scolding and Ben’s laughing. The oldest Stark was ready to argue, but then his eyes met Y/N’s. His mouth opened, then shut.

Y/N became very aware of his stare — a lighter grey than his father’s, with some specks of brown — and how nicely the barber had cut and trimmed his oaken-brown hair. He wore it much shorter than other Northmen, keeping it out of the way while he rode and trained. She found herself nervously touching her hair. “Um…”

“Where’s your brother? Find him, will you? I need to speak with the castellan before the madness starts.” Lord Stark said to his sons, not noticing the change in the room. Before he left, he pointed at each of his children. “Ben, no foolishness. Lyanna, none of those sharp words for the visiting lords, hear me? And Brandon, you will not duel with lord's sons."

All three protested, especially Lyanna, but the door shut loudly behind Lord Stark and quieted them. “He didn’t tell you anything,” Benjen said to Y/N

“Of course he wouldn’t. She and Ned are the only ones who don’t give father grey hairs.” Lyanna crossed her arms. “Where is he, anyway?”

Before anyone could answer, Brandon said, “You look pretty, Y/N.”

The compliment took her off guard, but Y/N smiled and said, “Thank you, Brandon.”

“This gown is really something,” Benjen said. Y/N could tell he was trying to find words for it. He lifted the caplet and marvelled with Lyanna at the sparkling black fabric. “I wouldn’t mind a cape like this.”

While Ben wore a doublet that was a deep black with details of silver and white, Brandon went for more of a light-colored grey and white, embroidered silver wolves glinting in the fire’s light. Being the eldest, he had a fine fur cape around his shoulders and a well-crafted swordbelt with no sword. The seamstress had fitted the clothes close to his broad, muscular body.

Brandon was standing close to the hearth, so that might explain how red his cheeks were getting under his beard. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” He muttered, not looking directly at Y/N. The sudden bashfulness made her smile. She didn’t mind being around Brandon when he wasn’t being so loud and “lordly”.

“There you are!” Lyanna said, and everyone turned to who she was holding her arms out for. Ned stepped in shyly, keeping his head lowered. His sister gestured to his hair. “You should be used to this. You went to fancy Southern dances all the time.”

“I didn’t,” Ned smiled shyly, tugging at the sleeve of a fairly simple but well-made doublet. It was mostly grey, with minimal details or needlework. There were thick lines of black that flattered his torso, making him appear taller, and wolf-shaped clasps at the front. While his hair was often neater than either of his brothers, it was brushed and forced into such an unnaturally formal style, Y/N just had to smile.

Then he noticed her.

Warmth, embarrassment and a strong desire to hide crawled up Y/N’s body, but she stayed still, shyly holding up her arms to show the beautiful blues of her capelet. “Um. It’s like the ocean.”

And that’s when Ned smiled, a warm one breaking out on his normally so subdued face. “And it suits you perfectly.”

She hid her face in her hands, which only made Benjen and Lyanna laugh. Lyanna stood in front of her and said gallantly, “I’ll keep you from any unwanted suitors tonight, my lady. They’ll have to go through me.”

“And me!” Benjen stood behind her, posing his arms like his sister. Y/N wondered when he got so tall. “My own brothers will have to fight me off.”

“I’ll throw you off, you scrawny fool,” Brandon scowled. That handsome face had disappeared to his usual irritation. He all but shoved Benjen back and said, “Let’s make haste. We’ll be late.”

“As you say, Lord Stark,” Lyanna intoned sarcastically, clearly annoyed by his change in mood. Ned said nothing, standing aside while his older brother stormed out. Y/N wanted to linger behind, having second thoughts about this whole business, but Lyanna urged her onward. The five of them stepped out and departed for the Great Hall, Benjen and Lyanna doing the majority of the bickering and only occasionally roping Y/N in for a comment.

The closer they came to the Great Hall, the louder the voices and music echoed off the stone. The actual Lord Stark was waiting for them.

“Are we late?” Lyanna asked her father. At some point he had his usual cloak replaced with a grey one made of finer fur and velvet, something Y/N had never seen him in.

“No, we just have rowdy guests,” He chuckled. Right on cue, the voices in the hall rose as laughter spread through the Hall. Lord Stark offered his arm to his daughter, and she took it, biting down her apprehension and raising her head high. Wordlessly, Brandon offered his arm to Y/N in the same fashion, and she stared stupidly at it.

“… Me?”

Brandon sighed. He sounded much gentler than before. “Who else, Y/N?”

“Oh.” Y/N took his arm, her face feeling hot. She hoped her hands weren’t clammy. Under the surprisingly thin fabric of his doublet, she felt his muscles tense. There was no time to dwell on her nervousness, or to think about it. They were walking straight into the chaos and revelry.

The great doors opened, and the smells and lights and music hit Y/N all at once. Her jaw dropped as she stared at all the banners hung in the massive hall, honoring the important Northern houses that attended. The guests were dressed in furs, velvets and fine cottons, talking and laughing and already dancing. When Lord Stark strode forward with beautiful Lyanna at his side, nearly all of them turned to shout their greetings and cheers. Y/N was so relieved she and Brandon were almost hidden by Lord Stark’s imposing figure. She did her best to keep her plastered smile on as they walked toward the dais.

There, Brandon pulled out the chair for Y/N and she carefully seated herself, aware of her cr. Then he went ahead to sit beside his father. Benjen sat beside her, almost vibrating with excitement. He already had a strand of hair that came loose. Y/N finally looked out into the crowd, thankful all the eyes were on Lord Stark and not her. Lord Stark announced the start of the feast — even if raising his cup and shouting was a formality — and the voices and music continued in earnest.

Y/N instantly looked for her family. She spotted the teal of the Manderlys, heard the Umbers and Glovers shouting, and smelled the choice meats being passed down the tables. Y/N took a deep drink from her goblet of wine, let out a breath, and stood from the dais.

Swiftly, Lyanna linked their arms and brought Y/N close. But Y/N was glancing back, her eyes meeting with Ned’s grey ones — and how they both paused for a moment, not wanting to be pulled away, but not able to move forward. Y/N opened her mouth to speak, and perhaps Ned did the same. Over the noise, she couldn’t hear him. Instead, she heard Lyanna lean in and shout, “Shall we get this over with?”

Y/N turned her attention to her friend. “What, the dancing?”

“Yes, the dancing. We’re expected to jump right in. Better get it done now, rather than after we eat all this pork and venison.” She made a face as they both looked upon the room, several lords already waiting for them. “If you find yourself in a bind, remember what I taught you.”

Y/N had to laugh. “You mean the toe-stomping and kicking their, um … between the legs?”

“Yes, do you need another demonstration?”

“No, no.” Y/N giggled.

“Well, if someone is upsetting you, please don’t stay quiet about it.” Lyanna frowned. “You’re too nice, Y/N. Don’t feel obligated to any of these men.”

Y/N promised she would stop if she were ever uncomfortable, but she remembered the good manners and reputation she had to uphold. Both young ladies steeled themselves, wished each other luck, and threw themselves into the throng of guests.

Y/N was delighted her parents came upon her first. No doubt they were waiting for her to leave the dais. While they couldn’t be honored guests at this feast, Y/N could tell by their beaming faces that it was no shame to them. Her mother hugged her again, careful of her hair. “Oh, you look so beautiful. Is she not beautiful, my love?”

“She always has been,” Her father laughed, though she could tell he was trying to keep the emotion back. He gave her a hug that was just as warm and comforting, perhaps moreso, because he didn’t bother fussing over her clothes or hair. “It’s been a long time, little pearl. While I love your letters and pictures, seeing you in person is very different.”

“I’m so happy you both could come,” Y/N said, finally letting herself smile until her cheeks hurt. She endured her mother fussing over her hair so she could chat with her father for a few minutes about home, and her little brothers. Eventually, Lady Talia said, “Enough, dear, there are many others at this feast who wish to have your attention.”

She thought her father gave her mother an odd look, but he was just being protective. She was a grown lady, and it was understandable if he was uncomfortable with all the lords that wanted her company.

“Lord Manderly,” Her father brightened suddenly, and Y/N realized what he was doing. He brought over a familiar face: gracious Lord Manderly, who was larger than she last remembered — but still more than happy to dance. The older man gave her a small bow, and they moved slowly through the younger dancing couples.

“You look very charming, little Y/N,” Lord Manderly said. His hair was no longer blond, but his eyes were still a bright blue. “My, it’s been many years. Winterfell has been lucky to have that smile in its halls.”

“You’re too kind, my lord,” Y/N replied cordially. “I do miss White Harbor and New Castle terribly.”

“Perhaps one day you will visit, when you are no longer indisposed.”

She agreed, and they traded more painfully polite back-and-forths before he insisted on calling one of his sons over to dance. Y/N kept her smile on, even as Wylis stumbled and stammered, and Wendel cheered loudly. She ended up only dancing with Wylis, as Wendel was too far in his cups and was at real risk of falling on her.

Next was a Glover that towered above her and was a little too rough, which made Y/N frown the whole time. At least he noticed at the last minute and apologized. An old Flint was next, calling Y/N by her mother’s name, then wandered off mid-song, mumbling to himself. Then a Ryswell boy, the black-haired one. She tried to ask him about his sisters, but he was intent on poorly wooing her in the span of a song.

“You have very lovely — eyes, my lady,” The young lord attempted. “They remind me, of um — uh — the sky.”

“How so?” She asked curiously, and it seems he didn’t expect her to want an explanation. She stumped the poor man. He tried a few more flatteries, but concentrating on poetry and dance steps were a little beyond the lordling. Y/N narrowly avoided getting her feet stepped on by his large boots.

Y/N was ready to pause, she was already tired. As lovely as the music was, these Northern lords had little to no experience in the more complicated Southern dances that Y/N enjoyed. She was going to have her toes and hands crushed by the end of the evening. She carefully weaved through the crowd, trying to return to the dais so she could get off her feet.

“Lady Y/N.”

She stopped, fatigue leaving her limbs and anxiety crawling up instead. First he was in her peripheral, and then in front of her. If he hadn’t appeared, she almost thought she wouldn’t have heard the new Lord Bolton. Well, not so new anymore. It had been over a year.

“Lord Bolton.” She bowed. As much as she wanted to weasel out of it, she had no good excuse, and those eyes were boring down on her. Y/N offered her hand with what she hoped was calm and poise.

His cold hands were actually a relief, and he kept them at a respectful distance. There was a space between them that allowed Y/N to actually breath fresh air and not ale or sweat. She didn’t know where to look, though. Roose had always been taller, but she didn’t want to look up. Looking ahead meant staring at flayed man sewn onto his doublet. She settled for glancing over his shoulder.

“There are many who are surprised by you tonight,” He said. Again, Y/N almost missed it. She didn’t respond right away, so he continued. “They didn’t think the Starks had been keeping such a treasure all to themselves.”

Her eyes bounced up to him, then to the flayed man, then back to his shoulder. “I have always been here.”

“As a quiet, mousy girl. Not a lady they can see themselves with.”

Y/N wrinkled her nose. She held in a scoff, but couldn’t stop from saying, “They can see what they wish, but nothing will come of it.”

“They will try, in spite of what they hear and see.”

Roose was pointedly not looking at her. He was looking at someone behind her, and Y/N knew she couldn’t look without turning her whole body and looking like a fool. She tried to lead him so they might turn, but he refused to budge. The pale lord had the ghost of a smirk on his face, and it made Y/N nervous. What is that look about? And that comment?

The gods were good, and the song ended shortly after. Roose did the customary bow and she returned it stiffly, then departed from him as quickly as she could. Which wasn’t terrible fast, considering the crowd. She did her best to not look anyone in the eye, not wanting someone to assume it was an invitation for a dance or conversation.

It’s why she nearly shouted when someone grabbed her shoulder. Y/N relaxed the moment Brandon came into her vision. “You frightened me. There’s no need to put your hands on a lady in such a suspicious way.”

“Suspicious?” He laughed. “It’s a feast, Y/N!”

He’d already had plenty of wine, she observed. “Are you going to ask me for a dance?”

“I was — no, I am. I see the lady isn’t occupied.”

She wished she was occupied with a chair and some water, but Y/N could do another quick dance. She knew Brandon would listen if she said she was tired and wanted to stop early. “Very well. Shall we?”

Brandon easily took her in his arms. Y/N had to tilt her head up to look at him properly, and she knew Brandon had always been bigger than her, but was the difference always this great? He had the smell of ale on him, but he wasn’t too far in his cups yet. If anything, it make him less self-conscience about his dancing.

“I’m surprised you’re so coordinated,” She teased. “Did you get secret lessons with my manners tutor?”

Brandon snorted. “I don’t make a habit of looking ridiculous. I am trying.”

“You are. You haven’t even stepped on my feet yet.”

The lordling was a bit rough on leading, though. Y/N had to keep up with his long legs, and more than once she worried they would bump into someone. Brandon brought her closer, so there was just an inch or two between their bodies. It made her heart leap, but the alternative was hitting the couples around them. She could endure it for now, even if the warmth between them was making it difficult to concentrate on her steps.

“You light up the room, you know that?” Brandon said, leaning in and speaking lowly so she could hear over the din. “When you dance, it looks like gemstones. Everyone is looking at you.”

“T-truly?” Gods, Y/N hoped not.

And then he was looking at her — staring, even — so fondly that it made her chest ache. Y/N found herself wishing the song was over, but it was a different wishing than when she was dancing with Roose. She wanted to run and duck and hide her face, shield her heart. She wanted to wake up tomorrow and find everything the way it was.

The song finished. Y/N immediately pulled away, but Brandon didn’t budge. People were moving past them, but it was like they weren’t there. When she looked up to his reddening face and dark eyes, for a panicked moment, Y/N thought she was going to be kissed.

And she was, but on the brow. She froze, and he laughed.

“You look like a startled deer.”

Y/N huffed and tried to pull away again. This time, she was let ago. “Try to stay away from any more drink, Brandon.”

“I can’t promise anything,” He said. The oldest Stark departed in an exceptionally good mood, and Y/N tried to fight the thought that she was responsible for it. That was foolish. She absently rubbed at her brow and disappeared into one of the dark, cool side halls, wishing to settle herself down. The dais was too far away, and she could’ve been accosted by some lord on her way there.

Deep breaths. There were a few ladies who had the same idea. They fanned themselves and complained about the heat of the night. A lord was already passed out on the stone floor. Y/N walked further into the hall, back to where the guest rooms were, wanting privacy.

She heard hushed voices as she approached. One of them was clearly distraught. Y/N pressed herself against the wall, making herself quiet as she listened in. Was it someone she knew? Perhaps a younger girl who was being bothered by one of the men? She squinted into the darkness. The two girls had tucked themselves into an alcove.

“…Ignoring me,” The taller girl — no, woman, finished her sentence. She sounded familiar. The other woman was smaller and slighter, and trying to comfort her.

“It’s most likely a misunderstanding, Barbrey, it’s very crowded tonight … Have you spoken to him?”

Barbrey? Y/N realized the second, softer voice had to be the younger sister, Bethany. Once her eyes adjusted to the darkness better, she could see the sisters’ long, braided hair and Barbrey’s distinct profile. She didn’t know them well, so there was no point in trying to step in. Eavesdropping was in poor taste, but Barbrey’s anger took her off guard and kept her in place.

“What if the rumors are true?” She hissed. “What if — what if he really is promised to her?”

“That wouldn’t make sense. It would be a poor match,” Bethany tried to soothe her. “You musn’t listen to what Roose says.”

“It wasn’t just him saying these things, Bethany.”

The name took her off guard. Did Brandon know Barbrey? He visited the Rills several times, but… Y/N assumed he was speaking with Lord Ryswell and his rowdy sons.

“Forget about all these rumors and false worse. Talk to Brandon. Walk right up to him and make him dance with you.” Bethany said. She sounded more confident than Y/N ever heard her. “Make him listen.”

Barbrey sighed. “You are right. It’s childish, how we’re carrying on.” She gently rubbed at her eyes, then patted at her hair. “I’m … I’m embarrassed to be fretting so much over a man. I thought I was better than that.”

Her sister giggled softly in response. “Oh, you needn’t be so hard on yourself.”

“There’s enough foolishness in our family to fill the keep, we don’t need more. And it truly was silly to worry about. Why would Brandon every marry someone from such a small House? Even with the Manderly’s support.”

Y/N froze. Wait.

She realized they were walking toward her. She scurried away from the hall, hurrying up a narrow flight of stairs leading to the guest rooms. She stayed there until their voices came close, then slowly passed.

“… Even Roger was embarrassing himself in front of her. Did you see that?”

“No, but father was the one who pushed him to it…”

Y/N’ heart was beating hard against her tight bodice. Me? Manderly support of — Brandon and I? She had to be hearing things, or they were sorely mistaken.

You musn’t listen to what Roose says. It wasn’t just him saying these things.

She felt her face burning. Again, Y/N thought of hiding. She could make an excuse, claim her stomach was hurting… But then she thought of her mother, and how disappointed she would be. And Lyanna would be left all alone, though Y/N hadn’t seen much of her tonight. She had to go back out. In the back of her head, she heard whispers of her duty — those unspoken rules that guided her feet down the stairs, out of the darkness, into the bright feast hall.

Her goal was the dais, but she kept seeing faces in the crowd. She thought she saw Barbrey, and her chest clenched, but it was another woman. She wanted to find Lyanna, or even Benjen, but all she could find was —

“Oh!” Y/N was walking toward him before she realized it. “Ned!”

His grey eyes lit up when he saw her. Ned weaved through the crowd and took one of Y/N’s hands so he wouldn’t lose her. “I haven’t seen you most of the evening,” He said.

She could tell he was already tired, like her. “I could say the same for you. Have the ladies been keeping you busy?” Ned grimaced, and Y/N laughed in spite of herself. “You shouldn’t blame them, Ned, you look very handsome.”

He gave a shy shrug in response. “If I’m being truthful, I wanted to find you first, but… Perhaps late is better than never?”

Y/N wanted nothing more than that. They easily slid into position, starting strong as the music played… but Y/N could tell Ned was nervous, and unsure of the steps. She slowed down their pace. “We don’t have to go so fast,” She smiled. “Let’s follow our own tempo.”

“It isn’t the dancing,” He said. “I’m… not thinking about it.”

Ned shyly avoided her gaze, which was difficult, given their closeness. Y/N smiled in spite of herself, and in spite of the warmth in the hall, she let herself move closer. “If it makes you feel better,” She said, steeling herself to say the words and not dissolve into nerves. “As exciting as everything has been, I’d rather be looking at pictures with you.”

His shy expression changed to something she hadn’t expected — a quiet determination, the sort of face she’d seen on Ned when he decided to do his best at something. “I’d like that too,” He said. “I’d rather be beside you than anyone else.”

Y/N squeezed his hands, mimicking the way her heart squeezed painfully, and his warm fingers held just as tightly. It was hard to look away from Ned, or the way his grey eyes lightened in the candles they passed. Again, she felt her feelings bubbling up, but this was unstoppable. It was something she couldn’t hold back, nor did she want to. Y/N wasn’t sure if he brought her closer, or she moved on her own, but there was little between them but her shining gown and his doublet.

She wondered if she was going to have a heart attack. Her body was trembling, and it was too warm inside this hall, and all she wanted to do was collapse in his arms and hold him until this panic passed. And he would let her, she knew.

She was so wound up, she screamed when the crashing started. There was the clattering of metal clattering to the floor, a woman shrieking, and men shouting. Ned’s arms were around her at once, covering her protectively. Y/N didn’t know what was going on, but her mind was ready to panic. She didn’t turn and look what was happening until Ned said, “What is he doing?”

Then she heard her father, distinctly, above the noise. That made Y/N pull herself away from Ned and look. It was unmistakably Brandon on the floor, throttling another man, his arms around the young lord’s thick neck. She gasped “Brandon!” but the name was swallowed by the crowd. Some drunks cheered him, others bellowed. Goblets clattered to the floor.

Just in time, Y/N witnessed Lord Stark vault over the dais and rush to his son. He grabbed Brandon by the neck, lifting him like someone might a misbehaving pup. Y/N’s father pulled the other man out from under Brandon, shouting something to Lord Stark. Brandon was still swinging for the lord. He was shouting, Lord Stark was bellowing, the whole room was ready for the fight. Y/N couldn’t believe the chaos that erupted so quickly.

“Enough!” She heard Lord Stark say to his son, dragging him back. “Enough!”

“If he opens his damned mouth again — I’ll kill him for it—!”

Lord Stark looked ready to throttle Brandon, just as his son was doing to another man moments ago. Her father was checking on the other lord, Benjen right at his side. Lyanna was hurrying to Brandon. She spotted Y/N and Ned, and waved them over. The two wasted no time in going to her side.

“Father, what’s happened?” Lyanna asked, trying to keep calm. Ned was already going to Brandon’s side, trying to urge his father to let him go. Lord Stark didn’t. He turned on all three of them so swiftly, they stepped back. He still had a drunken Brandon in his fist, but now his focus was on his two children and his ward. Before Ned or Lyanna could speak, Y/N’s mother stepped between them. She grasped Y/N’s wrist so tight, her daughter yelped.

“You’re coming with me,” She hissed. The venom in her voice was so uncharacteristic, all Y/N could do was shrink. Her mother pulled her roughly into the side hall, up the stairs that Y/N had hidden it not an hour before. She had to pull up her skirts so she wouldn’t trip and fall over.

“Mother, wait — my dress, I’ll fall —”

Her arm was being tugged so hard, it was making tears spring to her eyes. Lady Talia found an empty room, pulled the both of them in, and slammed it shut. She turned on Y/N, her cheeks burning with anger. Y/N had never seen it. She felt even smaller, bile and panic rising up all at once.

“Do not lie to me, Y/N.” Her mother said lowly. She finally let go, and there were red finger prints left behind on Y/N’s wrist. “Tell me the truth. Are you a maiden?”

#sorry this is a day late aaaaa #forgive me #salt & snow #s&s #ned stark x reader #brandon stark x reader #yes i know i couldve shortened this via talking less about clothing but....#will I? no.

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katsubiatch · 3 years

Text

Distant Shores-1

Summary: The heathens came to raid every year, stealing treasures and killing along the way. Your father was the King of Wessex and wanted to strike a deal with the heathens. The heathens and their ruthless numbers in exchange for some lands to farm, riches... and you. You are the Christian princess that is now to marry the Heathen King, a man that you're sure would rather kill you than marry you. This is going to be a miserable marriage.

A Viking!BakugouxReader fic.

Warnings: Arrange Marriage, general viking things, abusive father

They came every year, rowing to shore in their long boats with the intricately decorated dragon or serpent heads, shields of all colors decorating the sides. They would set up camp near the edges of the water, far enough to stay dry but not so far that they couldn't leave in a haste if need be. Violent in their tendencies and lacking the most simple of manners. Vulgar in their speech but carefree and happy. Men and women fighting side by side. They were tall, muscular, built like the gods they worshiped. Some with long hair that was braided back from their face, others with the sides shorn short and what was left was braided. Almost all had some sort of facial hair, minus the young ones desperately trying to grow it in, and if that was long enough it would be braided as well. Their clothing was not all together different from what you were used to. Perhaps not as ostentatious or gaudy as a he clothing around court. It was practical and useful, rather than just for show. Your father, the King of Wessex, was intrigued by these heathens as he called them. They had came ashore last year, destroying a few temples and killing all the holy men and women inside of them while stealing all the treasure inside, before taking their leave back to their homelands. It was interesting to say the least, though they had heard of these northmen before this was only the second time they had made camp on their shores. So In an effort of good faith your father decided to invite them to the castle, to talk he said. He wanted to strike a deal with them. He was going to offer a few things he thought they could not refuse. So he sent out a messenger to bring back their leaders for a feast. They spoke in a different tongue, looking at the women of court with lustful eyes as they ate. One man, who seemed to be their leader spoke up as he looked at the King. "What is it you have to offer me?" He spoke your language but it was choppy with the words out of place. You were surprised to find he knew the words at all. His hair was short on the sides, the rest braided back until it ended in a short pony tail. He had red eyes that you felt could pierce through anything or anyone. Scars littered his arms and bare chest, an axe and a sword at his hips. "Well, I am willing to offer some lands for you to do as you wish. Farm, build settlements. They are yours to do as you wish. I am also willing to offer you something more." The man said, grinning at the Viking earl. "I am offering my pure daughter, Y/N, to you." You. You were an offering. You always knew that your marriage would be arranged but you didn't think like this. To someone who had different customs, a different language, a different land someone who was different in almost every way possible. You wanted to throw up

The last thing that you thought your father was going to offer up was you. After all you were his only daughter and you figured that you would be married off to someone, a prince or lord in order for you father to gain some lands or troops for wars. Though you supposed this was kind of the same thing. The last thing that you expected was to be offered up to the Heathen King. You could feel his gaze on you, calculating red eyes watching your every move. You kept your eyes downcast, a habit from living in the castle for so long. You tried your hardest to hide the look of shock on your face, train it into a neutral expression.

"Well aren't you lucky, you get the Christian princess." One of the men next to the Heathen king spoke to him, in their language. One that you didn't understand.

"I have no need for a wife... but I could make it work. His proposition is interesting. I feel like he is going to double cross us."

The viking seemed to contemplate for a minute, hand rubbing over his chin as he looked you up and down before looking back at his men. "I will accept your offer, but I am surprised you would give up your virgin daughter to such a... heathen like myself." You could feel your face heat up at that, like they were talking about you without you even being there, despite the fact that you could feel the Vikings eyes on you the entire time.

"Well you are the man I need to make an alliance with right now." Your father stated, leaning back in his chair. "She will make a fine wife, I'm sure she can adjust to your ways." It became quite obvious to Bakugou that the king did not care about his daughter and what happened to her. He knew of the rumors that were spread about them. How they raped women and killed them when they no longer 'served their purpose.' He could tell you were scared but it seemed as though your father did not care.

"Then she will leave with us in the morning, we will be married under our Gods." Bakugou grunted, taking a long drink out of his cup, eyes never leaving your shaking frame. There was not much more that you could take, you didn't want to marry yet let alone a barbarian that you didn't even know. Someone who hardly spoke your language, who had different customs and Gods than you.

You excused yourself and made your way out of the hall, running as soon as you were out of sight. You couldn't slow your breaths, they were coming much too fast. You felt as though you were hyperventilating and needed to calm down. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, maybe it would be okay. Once you made it to your room you had calmed down just a bit. You still did not want to marry this man. He looked cruel and would surely just have his way with you.

You sighed as you sat at your vanity, taking out the clips and pins that held your hair up in its complicated look. You supposed now you'd have to have it in the braids you saw on all the Viking women. You moved it back away from your face when you heard a knock on the door that caused your heart to race. You knew it was your father, sent to give you instructions that you didn't want to follow.

"Well, you embarrassed me out there. Running away like that, it's almost like you don't want to marry that brute." Your father hadn't waited for an answer to come in. "You have to make him happy, the last thing I want is them storming our shores because you're too stupid to please this man."

"Father I don't want to marry him. I do not know him and... and what if he kills me? You could marry me off to a prince from a neighboring land and they could offer your army to help if the viki,.." you started to say before you were struck against the cheek. The king of Wessex didn't like being told what to do, especially not by a woman.

"You will listen to what I have to say child, you will do as you are told, no questions. You will marry that brute and you will like it. Keep him pleased bed remind him of our treaty or I can send someone to remind you of your place." Your father threatened, pointing a finger in your face while you held your cheek and tears sprang out of your eyes. You had thought perhaps he had some shred of love left for you, however he just saw you as a bargaining chip.

That night you did not sleep well, tossing and turning. Dreaming about a pair of bright red eyes.

The next morning your maids had dressed your for the last time, putting you in a simple dress and cloak that wasn't too showy but was still made of fine fabrics that showed your status. A bruise had formed on your cheek from your fathers ring but that was something he didn't try to hide anymore. His daughter had a wild tongue according to him, and he needed to correct it. This wasn't the first time that he had struck you, but you were hopeful it would be the last. Unless of course your new husband was the same.

You were told you didn't need to pack anything, your husband to be would provide everything that you'd need. Least that is what they told your father. So down you went to where they were waiting, restless horses under even more restless men. They'd been giving plenty of gold and treasures to get them through the winter so they were eager to get back home. "Here she is, your future wife." The King said, presenting you to the Viking leader. You dared to look up at him, seeing the same eyes that had plagued your dreams. You watched his eyes flick around your face, lingering on your cheek before landing on your eyes. You soon looked away, not wanting to cause any new problems. It was the way you were raised, never look a man too long in the eyes. It was disrespectful. "She has some problems obeying but I am sure you can get her in line." The king winked befor pushing your towards the horse that Bakugou was on. He looked down at you before hoisting you on top of the beast to sit in front of him. Your face turned a bright pink, you'd never been this close to a man before, and his bare chest was burning into your back. You supposed that you'd have to get used to this if you were to be married soon.

Your father and future husband shared a few words with each other that you didn't pay attention to before you were off. The entire ride the few Vikings that had come along we're all talking in their own language, nothing that you understood but they seemed to be in good spirits, laughing and joking. You were lost in your own world, gently running your fingers over the horses mane before you heard the man behind you speak up. "What happened to your face?"

You weren't expecting it after how quiet he'd been for the entire ride so you jumped at the sudden noise behind you. You chewed on your cheek, deciding on an answer before landing on, "My father was correcting me. That is all." You weren't sure of the correct answer but that apparently wasn't it as you heard a grunt behind you and a small growl.

Before long you made it back to the Viking camp, which was mostly torn down at this point, bustling with activity. The boats were being packed, tents torn down and supplies being put up. You were in awe at how fast they worked, and were intrigued with the people and what they were doing. It was almost like a culture shock, you were used to the castle and this was something different. The man that was to be your husband helped you off your horse and gave you a warning to stay close. In the matter of an hour everything was packed up, you staying close to the man was he went around inspecting work and checking things before he lifted you onto a boat and climbed on himself.

The boat itself was amazing, all the little attentions to detail was beautiful, your fingers traced over the edge and the little designs there. You were again in awe, you could deal with this. If you could see little things of beauty like this then you could take it. Once set off to the sea your eyes were wide with wonder. You hadn't ever been this far before, you hadn't even been out on the water and it was breath taking. You couldn't get enough. That is... until you were sprayed in the face with the water. You coughed and shook your head, as the men on the boat laughed. You didn't complain however, you were still just in awe of the sights. What you didn't notice was a curious pair of eyes watching you from the other end of the boat, never leaving you as he watched you drink in everything. He was curious about you, that was for sure.

After getting hit with the ocean water you learned your lesson about staying too close to the edge. However as night time drew closer and the sun went below the horizon it was freezing and your cloak wasn't cutting it. However you didn't complain, instead just hugged it closer to yourself.

"It looks like your princess is going to freeze to death." One of the rowing men commented, looking over to Bakugou. "Might want to warm her up."

Bakugou heard this and in turn stood up with a grunt before walking over to you and unceremoniously dropped on of his furs onto your shoulders. You looked curiously up at him, but melted into the warmth it gave. "Thank you." You chattered out, cuddling close to the furs.

"Can't let you freeze, princess." Bakugou murmured as shuffled back over to where he came from. You watched him go and smiled softly, perhaps he wasn't so bad after all.

#Viking Bakugou #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #katuski x reader #katsuki x y/n #Bakugou x reader #Distant Shores

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lokust · 3 years

Text

Plead the Fifth

—

——

———

“Mobius, get away from me!”.

This was ridiculous. Loki knew it was ridiculous. He was running from Mobius for no reason other than the fact that Mobius had started chasing him.

Er- well, he was pestering the agent quite a bit, but what did that matter? Serves Mobius right for not paying any attention to his dear friend.

“Oh come on, Loki. You can’t run around this library forever!”, he said back, trapping Loki as the God was between a round table and a wall with Mobius standing menacingly across from him.

Loki was unwilling to go anywhere other than the library as it was empty, closed for Mobius and Loki to do ‘classified research’ without the chance of interruption (or more so closed for Mobius to do classified research while Loki sat there for… moral support or something). Though Loki had taken to poking Mobius’s cheeks relentlessly with lidded pins.

He’d been told to stop countless times, and he’d agreed to it before going right back to it countless times, so Mobius finally had enough and he simply told Loki to run before he took off after the God.

“You know I’m gonna catch you, Loki. I don’t know what I’ll do when I do, but I will catch you”.

Loki almost relaxed hearing that, knowing Mobius didn’t have a plan, but there was a twinge of disappointment in his heart before Mobius suddenly shot around the small table. By the time Loki had processed it, it was a little too late.

He tried to run the other way but Mobius’s hand had just grazed his back as he turned and almost immediately, he was on the ground.

“Get off of me, you violent beast!”, he spat as he wrestled with Mobius on the ground.

They both grabbed at each other and Loki pushed away while Mobius grabbed and tried to pull him down.

After a couple minutes of fighting for the upper hand, Mobius finally had him down, “Look at that”, he said, still having to fight a bit with his friend’s swatting hands, “I caught a Loki”.

As he picked on the God for being caught, he managed to catch Loki’s side only slightly while pinning his hands down, eliciting a yelp and visible anticipation when Loki braced himself.

“Oh”, he started, “Correction… I caught a ticklish Loki”, he smirked down at his friend, watching the way his eyes widened in nervousness.

Loki shook his head and struggled to pull his hands away from Mobius again, “Not this again, Mobius. Come on. It wasn’t fair the first time and it’s certainly not fair now.”

Mobius hummed, “And why… exactly, hm? Why isn’t it fair?”

The trickster squirmed and writhed underneath his menace of a friend, “This place is ridiculous. I mean, if I had my magic, this wouldn’t be possible!”, he said defensively.

Mobius nodded, “Mm, yeah, I guess that’s true but you wouldn’t stop me then either, would you?”, he asked, smiling a smug grin as Loki’s face flushed red.

He furrowed his eyebrows to glare at Mobius, but his heart was doing flips in his chest while his stomach fluttered with little butterflies at the teasing, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mobius laughed as if he was shocked, “Oh, come on, Loki! You do this little thing where you pester and prod at me until you get a reaction, and your eyes light up when you think I’m gonna retaliate, and then you just… deflate like a disappointing balloon when I go back to work”.

Loki huffed, avoiding eye contact with everything in him, “I do not pester-”, he stopped to rethink his statement when Mobius gave him a look of pure disbelief, “Alright. Maybe I pester you, but my eyes do not ‘light up’ and I don’t ‘deflate’. I’m the God of Mischief, Mobius. Mischief. I’m supposed to pester you”.

Mobius rolled his eyes, “Alright, then explain why you fight like a little girl”.

Loki made a face of confusion and suspicion.

Mobius let out an exasperated sigh, “Like you’re a little girl- You know what I mean, Loki”.

Loki shrugged, a mischievous glint shining in his eyes, “Well I wouldn’t know anything about throwing hands with little girls-”

Mobius huffed in irritation, promptly pinning Loki’s arms above his head, both wrists in just one of Mobius’s hands, “You’re doing it right now, Loki. You’re trying to provoke it”.

‘Yes, well, it’s working’

Loki’s face turned red at his own thoughts, but he hoped Mobius hadn’t noticed, “Oh you are truly ridiculous, Mobius”, he snarled, “I would hurt you if I truly fought you, and I certainly do not ‘provoke you’ into this… childishness”.

He tugged at his hands and arms as he tried to twist out from under Mobius, “Now would you please let me g-OH! NO. Mobius… no”, he writhed as a hand pinched at his side before it hovered menacingly over his ribs.

“No? You don’t want me to do this?”, he asked, dropping his hand momentarily, “Then fight me. I know you can. You could kill me right now if you wanted. There’s no reason you can’t get away from a few little tickles”.

Loki shook his head, “No, Mobius. I-I’ll hurt you, I won’t-”

Mobius laughed at the pitiful argument Loki was rambling out, “Ahh, I knew it.”

Loki swallowed nervously but he held up his defensive demeanor.

“You like it, Loki! Just admit it!”.

The God of Mischief huffed again, “I don’t. You’re crazy.”

Mobius smiled fondly, “I’ll get a verbal confession one day. For now, the unnatural red coloring of your… well your everything from your ears to your neck is enough of a confession”.

Loki stayed quiet, practically pouting at Mobius.

“Now”, Mobius said, lifting his hand once again, “Shall we get started?”

The trickster was mad. Yes. Mad. That was the word.

The word for when you’re laying underneath your best friend while his hand hovers menacingly over your ribs and you unsuccessfully attempt to bite back a nervous smile?

Yeah. Mad works.

“You know, Loki…”, Mobius started, his hand slowly descending towards Loki with wiggling fingers, “There’s one game a lot of people play, usually with their children and what not”.

Loki didn’t know where this was going, but he didn’t know that he wanted to as he stared at Mobius’s wriggly, clawing hand, anticipatory giggles bubbling in his chest.

“Maybe your older brother showed it to you, or possibly even your mom when you were much younger. Surely you’ve heard of it?”

Loki threw his head back and gritted his teeth when Mobius’s hand got close enough that it was just grazing the side of his ribs over his shirt, “Oh my God, whahat is it, Mobius?”, he wasn’t able to take much more of the anticipation.

Mobius smirked at him, “Someone’s excited to get started I guess”, he teased, pinching his ribs suddenly, just enough to make him yelp and tense his muscles, “Well, since you’re so eager, I guess I can go ahead and tell you, yeah? Yeah”.

Mobius placed his hand gently on Loki, leaning down close enough to the God that he could feel the anticipation and nervousness radiating off of him, “It’s a game that involves… a creature of sorts”.

Loki groaned as he tugged at his hands once more, just to test the waters, but the palm resting on his ribs suddenly became fingertips digging into the bones, “For fuhuhuck’s sake, Mobius, please, I’m nohohot a child”.

Mobius shrugged, “Well”, he said, his tone close to a whisper, “Nobody’s ever too old for the tickle monster”.

Loki couldn’t stop himself. He felt so warm inside. He was giggling and squirming and smiling like a fool as Mobius tiptoed two fingers up from his ribs to his armpit, where he opted to stay, circling just one finger around the hollow.

“Ihihihi hahahate you”, his face was, as Mobius said, unnaturally red as he tried to spit insults out through his laughter.

He couldn’t believe it.

He was loving this. The playfulness. The sensation. The warmth… and he couldn’t even bring himself to be in denial (at least not in his own mind. He’d never admit it to anyone else. Ever. He would deny it aloud until the day he died).

He writhed and giggled while Mobius teased his underarm, trying to curl his knees up to his chest and kneeing Mobius in the back.

Mobius jolted a bit and his hand stilled.

Loki froze, his eyes widening in pure fear,

“M-Mobius, wait, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, you were… well, it was, it-”

Mobius cut him off, “If there’s one thing I know about my dear creature friend, it’s that he does not like to be hit, Loki”.

Loki tapped his foot nervously and very impatiently as he waited for the inevitable. His nerves were already crawling.

It just wasn’t fair. Mobius knew he was just making the trickster wait for what he wanted.

“If I remember correctly”, Mobius started as he sat up a bit, tugging Loki’s brown slacks down on his hips just a bit to untuck his white shirt easier, “This was a bad spot”, he said it almost as if it was a question, slipping a hand underneath the fabric to tease at the bare skin.

Loki held his breath, shaking his head at the agent, “You’re delusional”, he said, his voice pitched much higher than usual due to the pure anticipation running through his body.

“Oh, I’m delusional?”, Mobius asked rhetorically, “So what about this?”, he said, moving his hand to scratch slowly and teasingly at one side of Loki’s abdomen, “This doesn’t tickle?”

Loki yelped, biting his lip and letting his head fall back as he fought to suppress all the laughter that wanted so desperately to fall from his lips. He shook his head, unable to speak without his words falling apart and breaking into giggles.

Mobius laughed, shaking his head a bit at his very flustered friend, “You just keep exposing yourself, Loki. What do you expect to happen when you lie to me about it- Actually, don’t answer that. I already know what you expect, and I know what you want”.

Loki glared daggers into Mobius, or he tried to; he wasn’t doing a very good job of keeping eye contact or… looking in Mobius’s general direction.

Fingertips traced and teased around his tense abdomen, the touch so light it was similar to that of a feather. He couldn’t help it. He just had to reply, “You ahahare the wohorst friehehehend!”

Mobius huffed out a small laugh, knowing Loki certainly didn’t mean that at all, “Oh come on. You love me!”, he said, tightening his grip on Loki’s hands as he started pinching and squeezing at his sides, “And don’t lie, I know you love the tickle monster too, but, I admit, I will be a little hurt if you start to like him more than me”.

Loki squealed and squirmed and arched his back while Mobius chose to skitter his fingers around the sensitive skin right below his rib cage, “I- Ihihihi don’t like ehehehither ohohohof you, you big ohohoaf!”.

Mobius faked a pout, “Aww, well that’s just not nice. That’s no way to talk to a friend- or two friends. Especially not in this position!”.

Loki shrieked as Mobius’s hand jumped from his rib to underneath his arm in an instant, testing a spot he’d never really tickled before.

The reaction was very rewarding. The noise that escaped from Loki was hilarious as the god arched and squirmed and pulled at his arms, “OHOHOHOH MY GOHOHODS, MOHOHOBIUS, NOHOHOHOHO!”

Mobius was shocked, but he continued to dig into the sensitive hollow, “No, Loki. Oh MY God- Gods? Whatever, this is the best! I mean… you are a god! And this is certainly not the weakness I expected from you”.

Loki tried to growl between his cackles but it was just coming out as a noise that seemed very confused in itself and what it wanted to be, as it was a mixture of deep belly laughter and an angry cat.

Mobius swapped methods, wanting to know which would tickle the most as he started spidering in and around the hollow gently and quickly, rather than digging in harshly.

The reaction was instantaneous. Loki’s eyes widened as the sensation worsened, the muscles in his arms burning as he ached to protect himself, “OH FUHUHUHUCK YOU! NAHAHAHAHA, QUIHIHIHIT IHIHIT!”

Mobius gasped, still clawing and skittering away at the sensitive skin, “You are so foul mouthed today! What has gotten into you?”

He stopped for a moment and Loki gathered himself, already having prepared a snarky comment, “Well”, he breathed out heavily, “Nothing that I’m aware of but there is a vertically challenged PLATINUM BLOND DEMON ATOP ME AT THIS MOMENT”.

Mobius scowled, “Okay, first of all, I am 5’11, thank you very much. I won’t take criticism from you. The word giant is in your title, alright… knock off Avatar? Second, it’s not platinum. It’s grey”.

Loki’s expression certainly externalized his sense of confusion, “Avatar- Never mind. I don’t care enough to know. You are short.”

Mobius narrowed his eyes, pushing Loki’s wrists down with a little more pressure and tightening his grip around them, “Loki, you’re so incredibly ticklish that I almost feel bad for doing this to you… but after that, I think I’ll enjoy it quite a bit.”

Loki swallowed nervously, realizing just how much trouble he was in as he looked up at Mobius with wide puppy dog eyes.

“There’s only one way to get me to stop now”, he spoke, his tone quiet but stern, “It ends when you admit that this was what you wanted in the first place”.

……

“Oh… fuck”.

________________________

Yes! We end with a cliffhanger and also, the idea of Mobius trying to fight a child (and losing) was hilarious to me, so enjoy that.

And don’t worry. There will definitely be a fic to fill in the blanks at the end of this one.

#tickling #marvel tickles #avenger tickles #tickle community #tickles #tickle fic #lokius tickles #loki is ticklish #ticklish loki #lee!loki #sfw tickling community #sfw tickles

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screamingatanemptyroom · 3 years

Text

Please Fix the Story pt 26 - The Higher Realm

The Higher realm continues. So close to the end!

Master post linked here

Enjoy!

______________________________

Time passed, but it was difficult to tell how much. Time worked so differently in the different realms. How long did we really spend trying to save one lower realm? Minutes? Decades? It felt like no time and forever. Adonis and I traveled to lower realm after lower realm, fixing the stories, stabilizing the world before heading back to the higher realm.

Some lower realms were easy, if a bit annoying, such as the high school dramas. In those I would often play the “average” new girl at a school. I would meet new people, and was supposed to go on to have romance, betrayals and coming of age realizations. I quickly realized that befriending all my supposed romantic leads instead of dating them, reconciling with my rivals instead of humiliating them, and pushing towards success all together was a much more satisfying strategy. Fortunately, graduating valedictorian with a happy and psychologically healthy group of teenagers often stabilized worlds that had been torn apart by half-baked character design or infighting between rivals.

I took calculus so many times that I could recite lessons in my sleep, but at least the worlds were saved. Despite our success, however, Adonis was often frustrated. He had his own vision of how we were to save these realms. His plans almost always involved us dating, making the high school romance “successful”.

I refused.

He had been a lot more likable since our first meeting, and I was able to consider him a close friend and ally… but I felt uncomfortable at the idea of even pretending to have a romantic relationship. It was definitely a more difficult route to stabilize the world without a romance, but I chose it every time. Adonis pouted and complained, but couldn’t argue with success, and I was successful.

Some lower realms were more difficult. In particular, zombie apocalypse stories were my least favorites. The worlds often couldn’t be stabilized until a cure was found or humanity’s survival was assured. This meant that Adonis and I sometimes spent decades within these realms, working to build armies, or teams of scientists. There was hardly ever any running water, which meant showering was few and far between.

My unwashed self was made even filthier by my absolute failure at using anything with range. Bow and arrow, guns… anything that would keep me out of the gore, I couldn’t hit even the largest of monsters. Fortunately I picked up a sword with relative ease, which allowed me to fight… but this also meant I got covered in rotten blood and guts.

I hated zombie worlds the most.

Realm after realm. We worked constantly, spending very little time in between in the higher realms. Adonis would often try to use those moments to push his ideas regarding fate and the higher realm’s story, but as soon as I rejected him, which I did every time, he would simply scowl and pull us into the next lower realm to save.

It was getting old.

“How many lower realms are there?” I asked one evening as we recovered from our latest mission, rubbing my sore shoulder where I had taken a blow in the last sci-fi alien battle. The wounds disappeared with the realm traveling, but my mind still could feel the wound, projecting the pain long after I had left that form behind.

Adonis leaned back in his chair, his grin a little too bitter to be a natural expression. “How many unfinished stories are there? Infinite, Bel. There are infinite lower realms. We will never be able to save them all. Not like this.”

“It’s not like there’s a lot of options.”

“There are options. You just don’t want to hear them.”

“What, this fate you keep talking about?” I sighed, closing my eyes, tired. “ It sounds like a terrible idea.”

“It’s not.” His voice was quiet, but the intensity shown through all the same. “It’s our duty. Everyone’s survival depends on it.”

“But what you’re saying is: we follow along some sort of script…”

“Fate.”

“…fate… here, in the higher realm. And that is somehow supposed to fix the lower realms?”

He chuckled. “You’re oversimplifying it, but pretty much. We follow our fate, and the heroes of the lower realms will find their happiness tied to ours.”

“What if they don’t want that ending? What if they don’t want that happiness?”

“Of course they do! Everyone wants a happily ever after with their destined one.” He snapped. My eyes flickered open to study his enraged expression.

“I don’t.”

“You’re selfish!”

I shrugged. “Am I? If you’re right, we submit to fate here, everyone in the lower realms gets an automatic happy ending… but most of those worlds aren’t breaking because they don’t have a happy ending. They need a wider world, different ideas… and what about the side characters, even the villains… what about their happiness?”

“They don’t matter.”

“Why not?” I raised an eyebrow. “Just because they’re the villains?”

“They’re evil.” He stood up, trying to tower over me. An intimidation tactic, one that might have worked before we’d spent countless years fighting in life-or-death battles together.

“Have you met the heroes and heroines of some of these realms?” I laughed. “They’re not much better. I don’t think these roles are as clear as you would like them to be. And I don’t think you and I having a happy ending together, and forcing a simplistic ‘and they lived happily ever after’ on all the lower realms will actually fix them. In fact…” I stood up, and he stepped back slightly at the danger in my tone. “I bet we would break them all the more. Are you really so foolish as to think that saving a universe of worlds would be so simple?”

“…” Adonis was gritting his teeth, his hands clenched so tightly the knuckles were white. But I didn’t back down. Didn’t step back. I knew he wouldn’t hit me. He wouldn’t dare step out of the role he imagined himself to be in. Wouldn’t dare cross a line that might ruin his chances at the happy ending he seemed to crave so desperately.

“…” The silence stretched on between us. We were at an impasse. He wanted to follow fate. He wanted clearly defined roles and rules to follow. And I?

I wanted freedom.

*** Soul transfer 11% complete. ***

It’s been forever since I last saw those words… I thought it had disappeared. For some reason, I felt a deep sense of relief at the glowing blue sentence. Something within me had frozen during these many trips to the lower realms, but finally it was growing again.

“The next world is waiting.” Adonis spoke up, his tone flat. I noticed an odd shifting of his gaze, a reluctance to meet my own, and felt a sense of unease.

I won’t like this next world. I cracked my knuckles and gave him a thumbs up. Well, no sense running from a challenge.

We left.

______________________________

I woke up in a luxurious canopy bed. Staring up at the fabric , I raised my arms and have a cheer.

“YES! NOT A ZOMBIE WORLD!”

On the downside, the setting appeared to be a more primitive era, medieval at best, which meant no running water, but at least I appeared to be noble or wealthy.

At least if I suffer, I’ll be clean while I do it!

“Princess?” A young woman dressed as a servant entered the room, seeming very confused. “Are you all right? I heard you yelling.”

I smiled brightly at her. “No worries. It was just a nightmare.”

She visibly relaxed. “Even so, you seem in a much better mood, if I may say so.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you haven’t broken a single thing this morning.” She, unfortunately did not seem to be kidding. “I’m so glad you’ve accepted your father’s decision.

I didn’t have my character’s memories yet. I needed to accept the mission first. In the meantime, acting too out of character could destabilize an already poorly functional world.

“I’m still… thinking it over.” I spoke up cautiously.

“It’s not so bad, your highness.” She smiled at me. “Most young girls feel a little uneasy when their father arranges their husband. But you’ll be happy. I just know it.”

Arranged marriage?

“After all, Prince Harold is reported to be a true gentleman, a might warrior, and a handsome young man!” She sighed dreamily. “Any woman would be thrilled for a chance to be his bride.”

“I’m. Sure.” I spoke through gritted teeth, the satin sheets crumpling in my grip. Adonis, when I find you, I’m going to make you regret every life decision you’ve ever made… and the ones you’ve only considered making. What kind of lower realm did you land us in? As I plotted my revenge, the mission screen popped up.

**** NEW WORLD: A Divided Kingdom****

This is a romance fantasy story featuring a prince and a princess from different kingdoms, putting aside their differences to save the world.

“I already don’t like this.” I muttered.

The Princess Alaire of the Yenlar Kingdom was a clever, independent woman, horrified at the idea of an arranged marriage. Prince Harold of the Bestion Kingdom felt differently. He fell in love at first sight and vowed to woo the young maiden. The couple was different in almost every way, and seemed destined to bicker and fight.

“Then how about we don’t get married?”

But fate had other plans…

“Of course it did!”

A terrifying beast threatened to destroy both their kingdoms, and to survive, the political marriage had to go forward. Uniting the kingdoms, and therefore their armed forces, was the only way to save their people.

However, despite the happy ending, the first book was not well received by readers and the trilogy was abandoned due to poor sales. The reason given was that the romance was “forced” and unbelievable.

Your mission is to bring a satisfying end to the story, while making ensuring the survival of both kingdoms.

**** DO YOU ACCEPT THIS MISSION? ****

YES? NO?

“Quick question.” I spoke quietly to the glowing words in front of me. “Do I have to marry the prince to ensure an ending?”

The kingdoms will not unite without the political marriage.

“That wasn’t what I asked. I asked if I HAVE to marry the prince. What if I can save both kingdoms without a political marriage?”

The stability of the world is all that matters.

“No lecture on the necessity of fate?”

**** DO YOU ACCEPT THIS MISSION? ****

YES? NO?

I grinned. “Sure. Let’s do it.”

As the words faded away, I jumped out of bed. My head spun slightly as I accepted the memories from the poor princess of the original story.

She had not been happy.

She had dreams, ambitions. The Kingdom of Yenlar allowed for women to inherit the throne, and as the firstborn she was ready to take over from her father, to rule her nation. She had spent her entire life preparing. Studying law, economics, warfare…

And all of it had meant nothing in the end.

She had begged for a political treaty. One that did not involve marriage. The Kingdom of Bestion had refused to even discuss it. They stated that there was too much distrust between the kingdoms to move forward without some sort of permanent assurance. Even the threat of annihilation from the ancient beast of legend wasn’t enough to have them reconsider. That wasn’t the full story, though.

Later she discovered that Prince Harold had seen her at a party. He had supposedly fallen in love with her at first sight, and became determined to marry her. He had learned of her plans to marry a minor noble, one who would support her position on the throne without causing an imbalance of power within the nobility. He had no chance, as far as she was concerned. The threatened destruction of their people was just the perfect opportunity to force the matter.

She had lost all power. Becoming a figurehead, a beautiful statue beside the true king, Harold. He ruled over both nations with an iron fist, treating her own people more harshly, much to the approval of his staff. She slowly became bitter and deranged, watching the destruction of the people and the nation she loved so dearly.

Beyond the end of the first book, when the realm’s story ended, she had attempted to poison him and failed. Harold had been disappointed, but felt that she still had use as a figurehead. They faked a stroke, and kept her mute and weak with poisons. A lovely doll. A perfect figurehead.

…is this a fantasy or a horror? Sheesh, no wonder the trilogy wasn’t going to sell. I shuddered, still standing awkwardly next to the beautiful bed that had belonged to a lovely young woman.

I will change this story. I spoke silently to the memories, feeling a sense of relief that didn’t belong to me as I did so.

First, let’s try to reason with Adonis. He and I had worked together in multiple realms, side by side. We were friends. We may not see eye to eye when it came to our approach towards fate and the lower realms, but he had never forced me to do something I didn’t want. He had always respected me and backed off when I said no, even if it made him unhappy.

Hopefully this time will be the same. I thought uneasily. Hopefully he will listen.

______________________________

“No.” His tone was gleeful, but his face was calm, towing with a silver goblet rather than meeting my gaze.

“Are you joking?” I leaned forward, keeping a gentle smile on my face to fool the guards and our fathers who sat on the other end of the enormous dining table.

“I’m perfectly serious, Princess Alaire. Our kingdoms face certain doom at the hands of the ancient beast. The only way to survive is to work together. We can only work together if we trust each other. The only way the Kingdom of Bestion will trust the Kingdom of Yenlar is with a marriage alliance. It’s out of my hands.”

I reached forward and took the cup from his hands, forcing him to look at me. “Why are you forcing this, Adonis? You know it didn’t work out so well for the originals.”

“Careful Princess.” His eyes glanced over at the nearby guards. “You don’t want anything to destabilize the situation further, now do you? Better to act as a proper princess should.”

“Answer the question. This plan already failed. Why do you think it will work?”

“Simple.” He leaned forward and plucked the goblet back from my hands. “We’re different. You may not want to admit it, but we have spent lifetimes at each other’s side. Growing up, going to school, facing enemies, fighting together… we could make this work. It would be a wonderful ending.”

“You know what happened to Alaire after the first book.”

“I would never do that to you.”

“But you are.” I growled, wishing I could punch him. “You are trying to make me a beautiful figurehead, just like Harold did to Alaira.”

“We would rule side by side.”

“What use is that promise, if you are already ignoring my wishes and forcing me to do this in the first place?”

He shook his head. “You have to trust me. This is the only way we can defeat the monster, and stabilize this realm. We’ll save this world. Together.” He smiled. “It’s our fate.”

I threw a plate at him, forcing him to fling himself on the floor to avoid injury. Walking out, I ignored my father’s shouts of rage. Picking up a bag I had packed ahead of time, just in case, I changed into some light armor, grabbed a sword, and headed out into the forest.

If I couldn’t win by a political alliance, I was going to find another way to save the world.

I was going monster hunting.

I searched Princess Alaira’s memories of the legends and stories, going out in a northern direction towards the area known as Death Valley.

As I marched onward, my thoughts wandered over the time I had spent since I had woken up in the Higher Realm. I couldn’t help but feel disappointed with Adonis. He might truly think that he was saving the world by insisting on going through with the marriage, but his lack of willingness to even consider other options was frustrating. He was the only person consistently by my side through every one of these worlds, someone I considered a friend, and being unable to rely on him served to make me feel all the lonelier.

My mind briefly touched on the assassin of the first realm, Liam. I had thought with his comments and actions that he had known about my mission… that he might be from the higher realm too. But no matter how much I looked for him, no matter how much I hoped to see him again, I never did.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he was someone from the lower realm, and I’ll never have the chance to see him, to thank him.

I felt a sense of despair. How long can I keep doing this? Is this why Adonis preaches following our fate so much? Is he as tired of traveling, tired of the missions and the different lives? Is he just hoping to end all this?

I sighed, keeping moving. I’m not that tired, not tired enough to sacrifice my freedom. Not yet, anyways.

It took several days of traveling. Fortunately from my years of experience in zombie worlds, I was well prepared to survival in the wilderness. At least here the rivers were clean, allowing me to bathe occasionally. Finally I was at the entrance of the valley, staring up at the pillars on either side.

There were ominous words carved deeply into the stone.

Only death lies ahead.

I stared at the words silently for a few moments, and then shrugged.

“Still better than marrying Adonis.”

I moved forward.

______________________________

The valley was dark, a deep fog settled in permanently, apparently unaffected by the weather beyond its borders. Dark twisted purple trees rose all around me, their roots tearing through the earth desperate searching for nutrients. The valley was quiet, suffocating in an unsettling silence. My presence there felt like an intrusion, my instincts screaming at me to run away, to escape.

I kept moving.

There were no other signs of life. But I knew at least one other being lived here, the reason why nothing else dared to.

The Ancient beast.

There were no descriptions of it in the legends. Just that it was deadly, enough to take on entire armies. And that it was terrifying.

I feel like I should have seen something by now, if it was so large. I sighed, sitting on one of the trees, staring up at the mountain ahead of me. Shouldn’t it be easier to find an enormous beast that terrified an entire world?

…

Wait.

I looked up, struggling to see the top of the mountain in front of me.

I’m in a valley…

The mountain moved up and down, with regular motions.

There shouldn’t be a mountain here.

It was breathing.

I drew my sword, inwardly despairing. I had underestimated the sheer scale of the monster. I had thought it would be the size of a house, an elephant. Instead it towered stories above me, unimaginably large.

I was doomed.

There was a rumble as the beast in front of me shifted. I couldn’t tell the shape, just an impression of scales and spikes. Slowly, something lowered down in front of me, stretching forward in all directions, filling my vision. I saw teeth larger than my own body, the white of them contrasting with the dark fog around us. As I prepared myself for my death, an eye opened to stare at me.

It was a beautiful dark blue.

“…”

Suddenly, I felt relief. It was incomprehensible. I was standing in front of an ancient beast, enormous and terrifying, and instead of fear and dread… I felt safe.

I raised a hand, almost despite myself. “Hello there.”

The eye blinked. I comforted myself that it hadn’t eaten me yet.

“I think you look awesome. I’m Princess Alaira from the nearby kingdom of Yenlar. I actually came here to kill you, to protect my people… but now I realize that you could crush me like an ant, and that was a bad plan.”

The eye blinked twice. It seemed more confused than anything.

“I have a much better plan, if you would be willing to listen to me.” I let out a laugh, slightly startled at how… villainous it sounded.

*** Soul transfer 20% complete. ***

The creature let out a sound like thunder. I felt that it was laughing too.

______________________________

The wedding was this morning.

I was surprised as I drew near to see the party going. You would think that after I disappeared, they might have canceled or delayed it. I assumed that Adonis had felt sure that I would agree with him in the end. That I wouldn’t be able to let the world end just because I didn’t want to marry him.

Well too bad, buddy. This princess has a different plan in mind!

I could see him, standing on the elevated stage before two thrones, waiting. I couldn’t see his expression from this distance, but I imagine he was barely hiding his worry. Alaire’s father and Harold’s father were also waiting on the platform, their postures betraying their impatience.

“Let’s get this party started!” I yelled.

ROOOOOOOAAAAAAR!

The ancient beast let out a triumphant roar as he flew closer and lowered his head, letting me jump down onto the platform before landing behind me, a large, threatening mountain of a creature.

“Alaire?” The king called out, confused. “What are you doing?”

“Hello, Father.” I also nodded to Adonis, who stared back.

“What is this?”

“Your daughter is a witch!” The King of Bestion shouted, drawing his ceremonial sword. “She betrayed us!”

“Hold on, father.” Adonis held out his hand, stopping his attack. “I’m sure it’s not what it looks like.”

I grinned.

“Nope. It’s exactly what it looks like. I’ve teamed up with the Ancient being. We’re friends now.” I gestured at the monster high above us, who let out a grim chuckle, shaking the ground. “So now I make the rules, got it?”

“…”

“I’ll take everyone’s stunned silence as happy agreement! Now, first rule: Wedding canceled.”

“What?”

“You can’t do this!”

The three other royals on stage shouted simultaneously. I simply pointed again at the enormous creature.

“I can do whatever I want. The big scary monster behind me says so. Next, the kingdom of Bestion will surrender to me, as will the kingdom of Yenlar.”

“You want to rule the world?” Adonis’s gaze was… disappointed. I grinned shamelessly. “Nope. But here’s the thing: Our kingdoms face certain doom at the hands of the ancient beast. The only way to survive is to convince the monster not to kill us. The monster only trusts me. So I have to rule both kingdoms.” I shrugged. “It’s out of my hands.”

I threw his words from earlier back at him, and felt satisfied as he winced in recognition.

“We… surrender.” His words were quiet, defeated.

“You unruly child!” My father tried to shout, but a roar from the monster above us silenced him. He quickly surrendered too. I accepted both surrenders, quickly organizing the meetings to bring our governments together under one rule. Fortunately, the princess’s years of study served me well, guiding me smoothly through the process.

______________________________

I had one more confrontation with Adonis, the night before the coronation. He was escorted to my rooms by guards, saying he had a request. I hesitated briefly, but allowed him in, waving the guards behind the door so we could speak freely.

“What was that?” He shouted as soon as they had left.

I stayed sitting, forcing myself to be calm. “I fixed the story.”

“You ruined everything! Even if it stabilizes this world, it will ruin it in the long run.”

“Says you.”

“Trust me.” He threw up his hands as he paced back and forth. “Everything will go a lot smoother if you STOP CHANGING THE STORY.”

“I thought that was why we were here, though?” I sighed, leaning back in my chair and cleaning my nails with a blade. “To fix the lower realms, to save these worlds? That requires change, right?”

He paused in his movements, glaring at me. “Stop acting stupid. These worlds are broken because they didn’t follow the rules. We have to follow them perfectly.”

“I don’t want to though.” I shuddered. “No offense, but if the story is going to require us to have a romantic relationship, I’m finding an alternate solution.”

“That’s what the story requires, you have your role to play. You know the consequences of not playing the right part.”

I sighed. “No, there’s always different paths to take. You’re a good friend, and I’m glad to have you by my side, but that’s different than love.”

“…”

“You clearly don’t love me either, so why are you making such a fuss about this? As long as we complete what we came here to do, that’s all that matters, right?”

“…”

“Right?”

Adonis stepped closer to me, his atmosphere slightly threatening. “Why are you so different from what you are supposed to be?”

“What are you…?”

“Why can’t you just accept.”

His hand grabbed my wrist, the grip painful.

“your.”

He pulled me closer until our faces were inches apart. His bright blue eyes were blazing with anger as they stared into my own.

“fate.”

Letting me go, he walked away, putting some distance between us, before turning back to face me.

“This lower realm is stabilized. We should return.” His smile was cold. “The next mission is a little different from our previous ones. We’ll talk about it later.”

“…”

“And next time…?” He laughed, a bitter sound. “You’ll play your part whether you want to or not.”

THUD.

The blade in my hand threw through the air, stabbing into the wall inches from his face. I smiled cheerfully as he looked back at me, shocked.

“Try touching me again, and I’ll cut off something you’ll miss. We’ll discuss missions and roles again in the higher realm, but for now?” I rang a bell and guards came in, escorting him out. “I have a coronation to plan.”

______________________________

My coronation was held outside so that the Ancient beast could stand behind me. It seemed cheerful, letting out victorious roars and swaying from side to side. The people cheered as well, seeming a lot happier than I expected them to be. I guess they’re relieved that they won’t be eaten by the giant monster? I wondered idly how I was going to incorporate the creature into the day to day life of a monarch. For an odd reason I had very little doubt that the monster would stick around.

However, all my plans came to nothing. As the crown was placed on my head, bright blue words formed in the air in front of me:

100% complete.

**** You have finished the mission! ****

It was time to go.

At little sad, I looked up at the ancient monster above me. “Thank you, friend for your help. I wish I could stay with you longer.”

A mournful cry echoed through the world. It seemed to understand that I was leaving. Before I could say anything more to reassure it, the world around me shimmered and disappeared.

Only to reveal a furious Adonis standing in front of me.

“Happy now, Your Majesty?” He sneered.

“Oof, someone’s still a little angry that I used an ancient monster conquer the world. Believe it or not, I’m sorry that I’ve hurt you. But you know why I did what I did. Let’s talk about it in the morning.”

I walked away, feeling his glare on my back long after I was out of sight.

______________________________

When I woke up, I realized that I couldn't move.

I panicked, struggling to move my arms and legs, only managing to turn my head slightly. Enough to see Adonis’s smug expression as he sat by my bed.

“It’s time for our story to progress, Bel.” His smile was strange, twisted. I couldn’t talk back, I shook my head slightly side to side.

“I’m the hero, you are the heroine. If the relationship between us can’t be advanced by working together, than it must be forged in adversity." He reached down and picked me up, carrying me out of the small cottage I had arranged for myself and into the castle courtyard. Whatever drug he had injected me with was slowly wearing off, and I struggled in his arms, finally able to shout.

“Put me down!”

To my surprise he did, and although I struggled to stay upright, I kept my balance and glared at him.

“What are you planning?”

He sighed quietly. “I’m tired of always being the one to compromise. It’s time for you to make a sacrifice, Bel. I’ve avoided this so far, worried that progressing our story this way would kill you, but it seems that it is our fate that we take this risk. It’s… unfortunate. I do very much hope you don’t die.” He paused, trying to smile at me. “Don’t worry. It’s only temporary. I’ll come and rescue you soon.”

“A sacrifice?” I felt cold, even as I stood in the warm afternoon sun. My thoughts were slow to form, possibly a side effect of the medication. “Why?”

He shrugged. “There’s an order to everything. Rules. Law. They are all that stand between us and pure chaos. No one can ignore them. Not you. Not even me.”

“Then sacrifice yourself, asshole! Why send me?”

He shrugged. “It’s your role to play, not mine. Your fate.”

“Screw fate! I don’t care if you say it’s temporary or not! Friends don’t sacrifice friends!” I was furious, still weak and feeling helpless.

His hand reached out and brushed my cheek, the touch freezing my skin. I wanted to move away but I could still barely move, only managing to glare at him. “Don’t look at me with those eyes. It’s not my fault. If you want to blame anyone, blame the story.”

“Ad…”

“Sorry, you must accept your fate.” I felt a pinch in my arm, the stick of a needle as he injected something into the muscle. Immediately darkness overwhelmed me.

“We all do.”

Everything faded into darkness.

______________________________

When I woke up, I was in a strange world, surrounded by forest. I lay on my back, still feeling weak, fury coursing through my veins.

Adonis and I had worked well together, despite arguing multiple times in the past. But now… any goodwill I had towards him was gone. He had betrayed me. Knocked me out and sent me to somewhere dangerous, somewhere I could be killed, just to follow his precious fate. To get the story he wanted.

“Are you lost?

I looked over at the source of the voice. It was a tall young man with dark hair, wearing grey, non-descript clothing. He kneeled down next to me, and I found myself staring into dark blue eyes.

“Seems a good description for my current situation.” I smiled despite the dizziness. “Nice to meet you, Stranger.”

He grinned, reaching out a hand to help me up. “Call me Liam.”

Liam? Could he be…?

“…Nice to meet you, Liam.” I laughed. “Or should I say: nice to see you again?”

*** Soul transfer 25% complete. ***

#writing #please fix the story #fantasy #fate #next part will be fun #world hopping

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asweetprologue · 4 years

Text

hematoma of the heart

Octoberfest 9: Wound reveal (whumptober #30)

Hitting the tree is more surprising than painful. A strange shock goes through Jaskier’s entire body when it happens, a litany of unspoken no no no through him as his side slams into the wood and he topples to the ground. For a moment he can’t see, can barely even think, just feeling a dizzying sense of wrongness that makes his skin buzz with anxiety.

Then, finally, the pain does come to him, bursting from his ribs. If his breath hadn’t already been crushed from his lungs, he would have wheezed at the intensity of it. He lies there for a long moment, curled into a protective ball and trying to get his chest to expand beyond the jagged feeling in his ribs. Through bleary eyes, he can see that Geralt is still fighting the fiend, twisting and rolling deftly around it. That’s good, Jaskier thinks. Gives him some time to sort this out.

The fiend hadn’t even really been paying him any mind, which was almost more embarrassing. Jaskier had gotten in the way, a bit, though it wasn’t really anyone’s fault that the fight stumbled its way so close to his hiding spot. Normally Geralt would never allow Jaskier to tag along to a fight this dangerous, but as usual trouble found them. Geralt had picked up the smell of the fiend on the breeze, and the noble bastard hadn’t been able to leave well enough alone. His stubborn bravery and selflessness is one of the many reasons Jaskier loves the man, but at this exact moment he finds himself wishing that, for once, they’d just kept out of it.

After a long moment of lying still and trying to gather his wits, Jaskier slowly sits up. He leans his back against the offending tree and tries to stay as still as possible, not wanting to draw the fiend’s attention or break Geralt’s stride. Mentally he takes inventory. Toes and fingers wriggle when he tests them, so that’s good. No pain in his neck, though it radiates out from his left side and across his back like a sunburst. When he sticks a hand against his shirt he doesn’t feel the wet, tacky sensation of blood, so aside from a few abrasions it looks like he’s escaped with his skin intact.

Jaskier knows his ribs are bruised, maybe even slightly broken, but overall it’s not as bad as it could be. Jaskier watches as Geralt’s sword descends into the neck of the fiend, a hot spray of blood splashing across the ground and Geralt’s face. The second the beast falls to the ground, Geralt looks up and finds Jaskier’s gaze, his own eyes wild.

Jaskier realizes two things at once. One: Geralt is going to be livid if Jaskier was hurt during a fight, and there’s a very great chance that it will make him not want to take Jaskier on hunts in the future. He’ll say that Jaskier is at risk and is a risk himself, likely to cause Geralt to get distracted and wind up with one of them dead. Never mind that Geralt often needs help after a hard fight, might not be able to make it back on his own or just needs a hand patching up the worst of his wounds. Never mind that Jaskier hates being left behind, hates sitting in a cold, empty camp or inn waiting to see if Geralt will come back this time. Never mind that Jaskier’s entire supposed reason for being here is to get first hand experience of what monster hunting is really like, even if that maybe isn’t so much the reason he’s so dedicated to the Path anymore.

And two: Geralt will blame himself.

Jaskier decides, in the span of a second, that he’s not going to say anything. It’s not so bad, after all. How hard could it be to keep a few bruised ribs to himself?

In the time it takes for him to determine this course of action, Geralt is upon him. He doesn’t touch - Jaskier touches Geralt. Geralt does not touch back, unless it’s to manhandle Jaskier out of danger. Jaskier tries not to think too hard about why this is. Geralt looks at him, his eyes intense but unreadable as always, and Jaskier takes a steadying breath that makes his ribs ache.

“Jaskier,” Geralt says, almost more of a grunt than a name. He’s only breathing a bit more heavily than normal, as if he’d just been on a light morning jog. “You alright?”

Jaskier nods, forcing himself to climb unsteadily to his feet. The movement is agony, his back screaming as his muscles shift and stretch. He bites his cheek, forcing himself not to gasp or wince. The pain isn’t sharp, just pulsing, which is a good sign. He thinks. “All accounted for,” he says to Geralt, hoping that his voice doesn’t sound too strained.

With another human, Jaskier doesn’t think he’d have been able to get away with it. No one would be able to get thrown against a tree with such force and pop back up perfectly alright. But Geralt isn’t human, and over the years of traveling together, Jaskier has realized that Geralt knows fuck all about how much humans can withstand. He is both terrified of their fragility and entirely unaware of their limits. He grew up around witchers and has never stuck around any human beings long enough to figure out what really could hurt them. Jaskier thinks, sometimes, that maybe Geralt doesn’t touch him because he’s afraid Jaskier will break. But then Jaskier falls from a horse or gets punched in the jaw or stumbles over the side of a small ravine and Geralt will act surprised when Jaskier’s ankle is twisted or his face is bruised. The witcher just has no idea what will actually cause damage and what Jaskier can walk away from.

So Jaskier plasters on his most convincing court mask and gives Geralt a winning smile, and he knows he’s won when Geralt gives an almost imperceptible shrug. Jaskier watches his shoulders drop ever so slightly, his expression loosening just a fraction. Jaskier drinks up Geralt’s worry like a man drowning of thirst, but he’s still relieved when Geralt turns back towards the fiend. If Geralt knew he was really hurt, his tender concern over Jaskier’s well being would morph into guilt and anger, and that’s the last thing Jaskier wants. So he forces himself to follow after Geralt, and he doesn’t even limp.

Jaskier does not limp as they set up camp that night, or as he follows Geralt to town the next day, or over the course of the next week on the road. It’s probably making the healing process longer than it needs to be, he knows, but he’s in too deep now to back down. And if he winces occasionally when he’s getting up in the morning, stiff and sore and aching, or if he sucks in a breath to hide a yelp when someone brushes past his wounded shoulder in an inn, Geralt doesn’t seem to notice. Jaskier changes when Geralt leaves for breakfast or to take a piss or to bathe and he thinks he does an okay job, overall, of hiding it. It hurts in another way, deep in his gut, that Geralt doesn’t say anything. Jaskier doesn’t want him to say anything, doesn’t want him to know, but in another way he does. He really does. He wants Geralt to find out and be upset because he cares about Jaskier, cares about his well being and whether he’s in pain. He wants the full force of those golden eyes on him with total attention, those broad hands running across his flank to search for damage. Jaskier wants.

Maybe that’s why he lets his guard down. Or maybe he’s just healing nicely, and so for a few hours Jaskier just… forgets. They’re in a tavern, stopped in a small town a week and a half away from the fiend encounter, and Jaskier is a bit drunk. He’s been playing, for the first time since he was thrown into that tree, and it felt so good he got a bit lost in it. The crowd was small but invested, lively and eager for entertainment, and Jaskier had been passed more than a couple of tankards. Geralt had watched it all unfold with mild amusement, matching Jaskier cup for cup but barely tipsy by the end of the night. Jaskier had stumbled up the stairs with Geralt close on his heels, likely making sure he didn’t tumble back down the steps. He isn’t that drunk, truly. Barely wobbling as he’d made his way into the room. But as he tugs off his boots now and tosses aside his doublet, he’s drunk enough that he forgets, for the first time in a week, that he’s got something to hide. He turns away from Geralt and unbuttons his shirt, yawning around some garbled sentence about how many ales he’s had. The fabric has barely left his shoulders when he hears Geralt make a strangled sound, and turns to find himself nose to nose with the witcher.

“Uh,” he says, articulately, and hisses as Geralt’s fingers come up to prod his side. Oh, right. Fuck. He’d been doing so well.

“What the fuck is this?” Geralt asks, and his voice comes out as a low, warning growl that Jaskier feels in his toes. It’s threatening, he reprimands himself. Geralt is scary when he’s mad. Not hot. Scary. “Jaskier,” Geralt says, and Jaskier snaps back to the moment.

“I’m fine,” Jaskier says, too quickly. He’s trying to pull his shirt back up to cover up the canvas of blue-purple-yellow that’s scattered across his ribs and shoulder, but Geralt’s hands are in the way. He must be truly surprised, to break his own rules about personal space like this. “I fell, it looks worse than it is. Nothing to be concerned about, truly, I don’t even think my ribs took too much damage -”

“When?” Geralt says. His tone and his hands are demanding, pulling Jaskier’s arm up away from his body so Geralt can get a closer look. Jaskier feels himself flush under his touch, and he’s annoyed at himself for it.

“Uh, a - a week ago? Around then? It’s been a few days.”

Geralt looks away from the bruises, his eyebrows pinched together. His golden eyes are intense, searching Jaskier’s face for a lie. There’s a moment of quiet between them, Geralt thinking with his hand spread across Jaskier’s ribs, and then his face softens with surprise. “The fiend hunt,” he says, and then his face shutters into that expression, furious and guilty, that Jaskier was trying to avoid this whole damn time.

“I was fine,” he tries to say, but Geralt is already growling at him.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me, Jaskier?” he snaps. Gentle-rough hands push Jaskier down onto the one bed in the room. They’d decided to share, to save money. Always to save money. Geralt starts pacing, not an aimless trek but a journey around the room, pulling various supplies out of their scattered bags. “You could have died. What if your lung had been punctured? Or your kidney ruptured?” A jar and a roll of bandages are thrown down by Jaskier’s side, and the bard winces at the sharp movement. Geralt stops in front of him, fists clenched at his side, glaring down at Jaskier’s face. Accusation in every line of his body.

Jaskier sighs. Runs a hand through his hair, not bothering to hide the wince as it pulls at his side. “I didn’t want to worry you,” he says, and his voice is smaller than he’d like it to be. He didn’t do anything wrong, really. Geralt isn’t entitled to know of Jaskier’s every scrape and bruise. Yet Jaskier feels guilty regardless. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault. The fiend was there, so was I, I ended up fine! I’ll be better in another week or less.”

Geralt looks away, jaw clenching as he studies the far side of the room with intense scrutiny. Without looking back, he says, “You should have told me.”

Before Jaskier can respond, Geralt turns and gathers up the supplies on the bed and sits down beside him. The lid of the jar pops off, releasing a cool, minty smell into the air. “Lift your arm up,” Geralt says gruffly, and Jaskier does. He can only go up so far without pain, so he rests his forearm on Geralt’s shoulder, suddenly aware that he’s bare from the waist up and Geralt is still fully dressed. It makes him feel off balance and short of breath, for some reason. A moment later Geralt’s fingers are smoothing lightly over his ribs, rubbing whatever salve was in the jar across Jaskier’s bruises. The gentle touch steals the rest of the air from Jaskier’s lungs.

Jaskier lets Geralt work on him in silence, the minutes stretching out silently between them. He’s not sure what to say - how to tell Geralt that he didn’t want him to be mad without sounding like a child, how to make Geralt feel less guilty without being patronizing. Jaskier never quite knows how to manage Geralt’s emotions, not like he does everyone else’s. A crowd, a pretty barmaid, a professor at Oxenfurt, all of these are easy to push and pull where he pleases. Easy to predict. Geralt… isn’t. He digs in his heels when Jaskier tries to lead him, closes himself off when Jaskier tries to get a peak under the mask. Geralt is, Jaskier thinks, perhaps one of the most complicated people Jaskier’s ever met. He knows that’s part of the draw. But it’s frustrating in moments like these, when Jaskier wants so badly to say just the right thing to make Geralt’s shoulders relax, to make the deep frown marring his lovely mouth loosen into a smile. He thinks he could figure it out, given enough time. If Geralt will let him.

When Geralt finally moves to face away from him, to attend to his back, Jaskier speaks. “I’m sorry,” he says, and he forces his voice to be steady and firm. “I didn’t want to worry you. I didn’t want you to feel bad for not - That is, I don’t blame you. And I didn’t want to slow you down.”

Geralt's hands still on his back, his warm palm burning where it rests on Jaskier’s shoulder blade. It’s so hot in the room, sweat prickling against Jaskier’s brow, and Geralt’s hand doesn’t move. “I don’t care if you slow me down,” Geralt grunts. Jaskier can feel his breath on the nape of his neck, and he can’t suppress a shiver. Geralt must notice, but he doesn’t comment.

“You very much do,” Jaskier argues, irritated. “You remind me on a near nightly basis that if I’m not up when the sun is you’ll leave me behind. I don’t even bother to ask for a break anymore because you never fail to remind me that it’s my choice to be here. And it is, I know that. I’ll keep up, and if I can’t I’ll take my leave. You’ve made it quite clear that the onus of responsibility rests with me, and I accept that.”

From this close Jaskier can nearly hear Geralt grinding his teeth together. “Not at the expense of your health,” he says, and he sounds properly angry now. “Fuck, Jaskier, you can’t think I’d - That I wouldn’t wait, that I’d leave you behind when you were hurt. You could have fucking died, if it’d been more serious. You couldn’t have known that it wasn’t, right away. What if I’d woken up the next day and you’d choked to death on your own blood in your sleep? What if you’d -” He cuts himself off.

Now Jaskier turns to face him, shocked by the display of emotion, feeling Geralt’s hand shift across his back. Geralt looks away from him, hiding, but the expression that Jaskier catches on his face is… pained. As if it would truly hurt him, to see Jaskier damaged beyond repair. Hesitantly, Jaskier reaches out and touches Geralt’s knee. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I didn’t think of it that way. I just didn’t want you to take it personally.”

Geralt’s eyes meet his again, smouldering in the low light. Jaskier suddenly remembers that he’s a bit drunk, and they’re so, so close together. The space between them is warm, and Geralt’s hand slowly slides down his back to rest at Jaskier’s hip. “I always take it personally when it comes to you,” Geralt says. Jaskier breathes out shakily. Geralt reaches out with his other hand and gently grasps Jaskier’s elbow, making Jaskier’s fingers press more firmly into his knee. “Tell me next time,” Geralt says. And then, “Please.”

Jaskier is powerless to refuse him anything in this moment, so he says, “Alright. I will. Just don’t leave me behind.”

“I won’t,” Geralt says softly. “I won’t. I promise.” Something tense releases in Jaskier, because Geralt is not frivolous with his words and a promise means something coming from him. He won’t leave Jaskier behind.

“Well good,” Jaskier says, and smiles easily at him. His side feels better now with the salve and the fuzzy layer of alcohol in his system, and every part of him touching Geralt is tingling pleasantly. It’s a lot of parts, he realizes giddily. He’s nearly in Geralt’s lap, held close by Geralt’s hands in something that’s nearly an embrace, and Geralt’s lips are right there. All Jaskier would have to do is lean forward just a smidge, press them together gently, soft as a feather -

Geralt’s eyes flicker to his mouth, and Jaskier flushes hot all over. Gods. Just a look and he feels undone.

But before he can do anything, Geralt is up and halfway across the room, tucking the jar away like nothing had happened. Jaskier lets out a breath that’s equal parts disappointment and relief. A moment later Geralt is back at his side, holding the roll of bandages.

“This will keep you from pulling them while they heal,” Geralt says gruffly, and Jaskier obediently raises his arms up as much as he can. Geralt wraps up his ribs efficiently, and it does feel a little more stable. It will help him sleep, at the very least. Just before he wraps the light gauze around Jaskier’s shoulder, Geralt leans in and drags in a deep breath.

Jaskier splutters. “Are you sniffing me, Geralt of Rivia?”

Geralt huffs out an amused breath against his skin. “Checking for infection. You don’t smell sweet, so you’re probably alright.”

“I smell plenty sweet,” Jaskier gripes. Geralt finishes the bandages, tying them off neatly. Jaskier feels compressed, a bit, but it’s for the best.

“You smell like ale,” Geralt says with a raised eyebrow. “And the salve. And that lavender soap I hate.”

“You only hate it the first day I use it,” Jaskier points out. The smell is too strong for Geralt to abide by. Jaskier tries not to use it unless they’ll be apart for a day or so. He’d bathed with it the day after the hunt, hoping that the intensity of it would mask anything else Geralt might scent on him. Pain, or distress. Geralt had supported a pinched look of annoyance for a full half a day.

“Go to sleep, Jaskier,” Geralt says, and it sounds annoyed and fond at the same time in equal measure, which Jaskier wouldn’t have said was possible before he met Geralt. The most complicated man he’d ever met. “You need to rest.”

“Up at dawn?” Jaskier guesses, shucking off his pants and settling under the covers. Geralt removes his own boots and pants and crawls in on the other side, settled between Jaskier and the door. Jaskier’s not sure if it’s to protect him or to keep him from running off. As if he ever would.

“We’ll leave when you're ready,” Geralt says, snuffing out the candle flickering on the bedside dresser. In the darkness, Jaskier hears, “I’ll wait for you.”

For once Jaskier has nothing else to say to that, so he settled down into the covers and plans to sleep past noon.

#whumptober2020 #whumptober #whump #no. 30 #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraltxjaskier #geralt/jaskier #geraskier #the witcher #october2020 #my work #fic #writing

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badgirlcovenrep · 3 years

Text

atlas

Alex Chen × Steph Gingrich fluffy comfort one-shot

(I was talking to a friend about the game and we were discussing how Alex is probably still carrying a lot of trauma. And even after everything that happened at the mines we still don't see her really grieve for the whole situation and herself. So- I had to write it, you know?)

Enjoy!

TW: mentions of suicide, death and mental health issues.

It's two months into their relationship now, and they are somewhere in a Californian town, living in a tiny apartment close to the beach. They play together in small venues and underground clubs. Alex bartends and Steph referees for DND campaigns at a nerd bar they found by chance on their first week there.

They're happy. As happy as Alex remembers being since she was- well, maybe nine.

Every day, it's a little like waking up into a dream. Living in an apartment with her first girlfriend, listening to music as they cooked dinner together. Getting to kiss her just because Alex felt like it. Because her heart went a little loopy inside her chest when she smiled. Because she knew Steph would hold on to her waist and make her feel like she was full of electricity.

The 'falling in love' business felt overrated before Steph.

But Being in the middle of it now, Alex doesn't think there's anything better.

Although a part of her still felt quite numb - she guesses it's not something that will go away that easily - and day by day, Alex felt a little bit more like she could breathe... like she was finally letting herself go, at least a little bit.

****

Now that she could comprehend and use her powers, it also seemed as if she'd started to become even more of a magnet for all sorts of emotion around her. And apparently Alex could do it in her sleep too.

The nightmares came in clusters most of the time, a badly cut-together mess of voices and feelings. The lady that lived under them, who lost her son when he was little. The couple from down the street, who were going through a hard time in their relationship. Even the little girl from upstairs, who had terrible night terrors of sharp-teethed monsters reaching from under her bed.

They all mixed inside her head until she woke up gasping for air and sizzling with emotion.

It was rare that she'd have a full dream, one that made sense and completed itself, but when she did they were always about Gabe. About sitting together at the rooftop of the Lantern and sharing a beer. Or climbing trees, like they used to do when they were little.

It was a relief from the usual doom.

And that dream was supposed to be nothing different. Or at least she thought it wasn't.

****

In it, they were at the ravine. A world of twinkling stars shining above their heads. The Colorado mountains all around them creating a landscape that was just as beautiful as it was bittersweet. Alex could see the log she'd crossed, still standing between her and the tiny outcrop of stone Ethan had been stranded on.

She hadn't dreamed of the ravine since leaving Haven Springs, but while she was there, Alex dreamt of it every night. She would see it when her eyes were closed. She could hear it, - the sirens, the terrible, deafening rumble of the ground splitting beneath them. The panic, pounding into her ears.

But this is different. Because when she looks around, Alex realizes she's standing over the elevated plateau, tied to the waist and leaning all her weight against a sturdy piece of rock.

Looking at her from below is Gabe. Lying on the cold ground. A cheesy smile spread across his face.

"Why are we switched?" Alex asks because that's all she can think of asking, as she stares at the rope that anchored her to the ground... to Gabe.

"Beats me. This is all your brain, not mine." He says, and Alex huffs in annoyance, "you know what's going to happen, but you keep coming here."

"I don't have a choice."

"Hmmm..." Gabe hums, but there's some humor in his expression as he stares intently back at her, "and that's exactly why... I'm here because I should say goodbye."

A coldness spreads over Alex's limbs. Around her, the very fabric of the dream dims into darkness as a strong breeze blows past them. She suddenly feels like throwing up.

"What- what does that mean?" It's a stupid question. This is her dream. Alex knows what it means.

Deep down, she knew she'd been conjuring him up for her own sake. Trying to bring back any morsel of relief into the giant hole he'd left inside her heart. However, Alex also knew at some point he'd be gone- she just didn't expect-

"You don't need me anymore, Alex." He says. As if it's that simple. As if she'd ever-

"I'll always need you, Gabe. Of course I need you." The words stumble out of her mouth, and she can feel the hot, angry tears falling down her face.

It feels like a hot iron pressed to the very top of her chest.

Like lava, boiling up into her bloodstream until Alex wants to punch something. The steam that prickles from under her skin, fighting to break free.

Anger always comes first when people feel cornered. It's something she noticed a while back. Out of all the emotions Alex had dealt with the past few months, that, at least, hadn't changed.

"Shit, Gabe. When you died I needed you more than ever."

"But we can't fix that, can we?" He asks, and another wave of anger rips through her. She looks anywhere but him, because Alex feels that if she does, she'll tackle and kill him all over again. But when he says nothing and they're left in the same pocket of silence - the one right before the whole world collapsed - her eyes eventually fall back to her brother. Tied to her and laid on the ground beneath. Looking at her like just as much the goofy asshole she missed so much.

Anger always felt urgent and fast, like a flash going through her body and leaving everything inside it in disarray. It demanded to be completely felt, but only for the moment it took for Alex to decide it wasn't worth launching the nearest object at a window.

Or trying to kill her dead brother.

"You might have needed Gabe. But you don't need this Gabe anymore, Alex. You can do it on your own now."

The fear and sadness that came after? They were usually much, much worse.

"But this is the only Gabe I have."

Those emotions, when mixed, turned into a horrible harmony that paralyzed her lungs and darkened the sides of her vision. They felt just as urgent as anger, but complacent. A beast staring at her from the very bottom of a pit. Tied to her by the waist and trying to lure her down into the abyss.

And, for Alex, the abyss was as deep as a ventilation shaft for a Colorado mining site.

"No, it's not. You'll always have me, Alex. And you know that." Not in the way that matters. Alex wants to say, but it's so redundant. He's the ghost. He should already know that. "And you have Ryan now, and Eleanor, Riley, Charlotte, Ethan... Steph..." he gives her a cheesy smile in the last name, wiggling his eyebrows back at her teasingly.

"Oh, God, way to ruin the moment." Alex can't help but chuckle a little through her tears. Is she blushing? You can't blame her for blushing, right? God, she feels like Diane.

"Hey. Let me have it. One of my only regrets is that I never got to tease the hell out of Steph for dating my little sister... and for being whipped as hell."

"That would have been so funny."

"I knew she'd get along with you but I guess I didn't expect... that. Shame on me. Should've had more artistic vision."

Alex chuckles as more tears run down her face. It's so bittersweet it hurts from the very inside of herself.

"All jokes aside. I'm glad you have her, and that she has you. She's good. Just make sure you tell her I'll haunt her from the grave if her dumb ass breaks your heart, okay?" Alex nods, and her body starts shaking with strangled sobs. So much emotion she just can't let go of. Because if she does, Alex is afraid there'll be nothing left.

"Hey. Don't cry. You can do this, Alex. You know how to live life now."

"I don't want to lose you again, Gabe."

"You'll never lose me. You'll just have to look a little harder." He smiles up at her, pulling jokingly on the rope, "now play your part - or is it my part? You get it."

And then- too soon. (Same as it was that night.) The sirens blast through the mountains, and somewhere above them, a giant explosion blows her eardrums, and boulders the size of cars come tumbling down the mountain.

She barely has time to blink. Barely has time to breathe one last time. Seen as she's Gabe, when she looks up all she sees is the giant rock, flying towards her, hitting her across the torso so hard, before she knows, she's flying way above the ravine, and one last glimpse of the stars catches hold over the veil of her memory before everything turns black.

****

She wakes up in bed, desperately clawing at the top of her chest as she gasps for air. Her lungs feel like they're made of lead, and all around her, she can feel the weight of the rocks, the explosion, the debris, weighing down her body.

Alex pats across the mattress for Steph, who is not there. Another wave of panic washes over her. So strong her mouth turns dry and her head aches as she tries to breathe in, but her lungs can only handle tiny, torturous gasps of half-breath.

Alex dispels a world of curses towards herself inside. Willing her own body to just calm down. In the bathroom, she can hear Steph singing softly to herself- she must have come home late from the DND tournament. Alex told her she'd swing by, but she'd had a long shift and ended up just passing out as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Alex hadn't had an incident like this in very long. She could control it now. Most times. It wasn't easy, with being on the road and constantly surrounded by people. Sometimes, she still got more than she could bargain. When she walked across a depressed person on the sidewalk, or heard one of their multiple neighbors yelling at each other through the walls, and suddenly she felt as if the world blended out of focus into a tsunami of feeling.

Feeling that wasn't hers but still felt so much like it was.

Steph helped whenever it happened. For a sarcastic punk rock mess, she was surprisingly stable and so very reassuring.

Just the fact that she can hear her voice. That Steph is there in the apartment with her, is enough to calm some of her nerves, and while Alex still can't keep herself from pulling in gasps of air as she tries to hold in any kind of oxygen, she at least has a plan.

Water. Water will make her feel better, right?

Almost as soon as the idea crosses her mind, Alex's half-delirious brain commands her to get up, but her body feels so very heavy. Like she's really been trampled over by a wave of giant boulders. And as soon as her feet touch the ground, her legs give up under the weight, and she falls onto the hard floor with a loud, heavy thud.

The girl's hands fly up to hold her weight against the bed, and thankfully that means she doesn't face plant the ground, but it sends her heart into a neck-breaking pace, and all air Alex'd been able to gather so far escapes her in a single huff until she's hyperventilating again, hot, angry tears running down her face.

You're so weak. You're such a fucking idiot. Of course, you had to go and lose Gabe twice, who the fuck would want to stay with such a mess-

"Alex, are you okay?" Steph's voice comes, as she opens the door to find her girlfriend sitting on the ground, looking like she might pass out from just trying to get her lungs to work, "Alex!"

In a second she's crossed their room and kneeled by her, both hands going up to her cheeks on instinct, smearing away her tears.

"Breathe with me, okay? We've done this before, you can do it." She always gets just a tiny bit of a scared aura around her when Alex gets like this, never for long enough that she can read it, but it's still there, the tiny flutter of fear, "come on, breathe."

Her eyes go up to find Steph's, her strong, glittering green gaze. Alex might be the one with superpowers, but it was Steph who could so easily reach in and soften her edges like it was nothing. It was Steph who could just lean in and hold Alex's hand against her chest, letting her feel the determined rise of her lungs. Strong. Stable. Even Alex couldn't possibly understand how she did that.

How she always made Alex's breathing slowly come to shaky, deep breaths, crawling painfully out of her dry throat, but still better than gasping like a fish. Inside her, Alex feels the furious hurricane of emotion, twisting itself into the bottom of her lungs, taking hold of every bit of her until she felt like she could throw up.

"Wait here, I'll get you water," Steph says, and Alex wants to complain, she doesn't want to be alone, even for a second.

But before she can, Steph has left their bedroom for the kitchen, and Alex feels as if she's stable enough to crawl into bed, so she does so at a glacial pace. She grabs Shu-Shu, holding her close to her chest as she sits and waits for Steph.

She eventually comes back in with a glass full and Alex gulps it down in silence, unsure if whatever dam of emotion that has taken place inside of her will break if she tries to speak. So she sets the glass back and lies her head down on the pillow, facing away from Steph and the rest of the room as she tries to reel herself back in.

She can hear Steph taking off her boots and climbing into bed, one arm winding around her waist as she pulls Alex in closer.

"Was it the lady from upstairs?" Steph asks, eventually, after they sit in a few long minutes of silence.

"No." She replies, and it comes out so strangled, so broken, a few more tears run down her face. Steph pulls her even closer, a tight, steady pressure.

"The couple again? I swear to God I'll call the police on that asshole this time."

"No." Alex says, and she detaches herself from Steph just enough so she can turn around and look at her, "I had a dream about Gabe." Simply saying his name makes her whole body shake. Steph is looking at her so intensely, Alex has to close her eyes, holding on to the fabric of her shirt with all she had not to explode in whatever terrifying, dizzying bomb of emotion she could feel brewing inside herself.

Alex felt so much from other people it overwhelmed her multiple times a day, and even then, it was nothing compared to this. Nothing compared to how much sheer strength it took from her not to let it blow.

It scared her. More than anything.

"He wanted to say goodbye." She says eventually, "it was- I don't know. This- I- this isn't coming from anyone- How do I get rid of it? It's like it's all inside of me and it's taking up so much space and I don't know how to fix it" The words come tumbling out before she can stop them, and she's rambling through tears.

Steph sighs. And Alex can feel the love and sadness mixed together, blowing from her in waves as she holds Alex's chin, bringing her up so they can look at each other.

"Baby..." there are tears in her eyes now, as she pulls her closer until their foreheads are touching, and they are so close Alex can smell her lemongrass shampoo, "This is all yours."

And such simple words shouldn't hit her this fucking hard.

But it all suddenly makes so much sense-

Alex was numb after her dad left. She felt nothing for months. It was one of the most terrifying feelings in the world, a deep and powerful depression that threatened to overtake her at any given point.

Like her whole body was nothing but dead weight and her brain was way too tired to even try and keep up.

Young as she was, Alex guesses she never realized the first time she felt anything at all after that was when she discovered her powers. The day a boy came to the orphanage and he was so angry it blew her across the hallway. Ever since then, everything around her was a cacophony of feeling. Coming from every direction. Every street corner, every store, every park.

Every moment of her life since she was eleven, Alex could only feel for others.

"I- I forgot." She realizes, half surprise and half so much sadness another sob breaks through her throat.

Now it made sense, the anger, the sadness, the fear, a hurricane of emotion so very powerful it made her ears ring.

"I'm scared." She admits. Because for someone who had been so focused on learning how to exist among other people's feelings, Alex had no clue how to handle herself, "what do I do with all of this? How do I fix it?"

"Alex. Look at me." Steph brings her face upwards until they are so close, Alex can see the speckles of blue in her eyes, "Gabe died just four months ago, and you were there to see everything- then you got shot and thrown down God knows how many stories into a dark abyss that you somehow walked out of, but not before also finding out about your dad's tragic death - and I haven't seen you cry, actually cry, for yourself, even once."

"I- I can't, it's too much. I don't know how, Steph." Alex had learned her lesson. She'd seen her life as it was and survived it. Deep down she knew it wasn't her responsibility anymore - that it never was her responsibility, to begin with - to hold herself together for others. She knows.

But old habits die hard, and Alex guesses it'll take a while before she starts feeling it too.

Because right now, it still felt like the world might collapse if she wasn't there to hold it together.

"Just- give it to me. Everything you have, I can carry it for you." Steph says, with such determination, Alex actually believes her, but she takes her eyes away, trying to avoid the bubbling of tears threatening to jump out through her throat "Let it go, please, Alex. I can't watch you carry it alone anymore."

At that moment, Alex glances at her again, and there's so much pain, so much love in her eyes, that inside Alex, the dam finally breaks and she's choking on sobs. Tears start running down her cheeks as Steph leans in and pulls her closer, one arm around her shoulder and one on her hip, squeezing tight in reassurance.

If she didn't know better, Alex would've guessed Steph was the one with the superpowers, with the way she coaxes wave after wave of emotion out of her with nothing but her steady presence and quick, light kisses she leaves on Alex's head and hair as she holds on to her shirt for dear life.

It overwhelmed her more than anything she'd experienced so far, and for what feels like hours, she just sobs as Steph holds her.

She cries for her mom. Dead before her time, trying to hold them together to the very end. She cries for her dad, dying a slow death deep underground, a picture of the two children he'd never see again dangling around his neck. She cries for Gabe, for the time they'd never have, for the time they did have.

Above all, for the first time, Alex cried for herself. For being the last out of all of them. For the little girl that had to love and lose every single one of them in succession.

And in the middle of all of it, like a speckle of golden light hidden under all the darkness, for the first time, she feels that it could all start to feel alright.

#send me chenrich prompts #i dare you #chenrich #chengrich #alex chen #steph gingrich #life is strange true colors #long post #chenrich fanfic #chenrich fic #alex chen × steph gingrich

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angryschnauzer · 3 years

Text

Just What I Need

Summary; Working in a coffee shop you meet all sorts of people, but one customer in particular is always friendly, a local Detective from the nearby precinct. When one night he orders through a delivery service rather than in store, you get more than a tip when you make the delivery.

Fandom; Nomis (Night Hunter) Movie, Henry Cavill

Pairing: Detective Walter Marshall x Female Reader (no race or size specified)

Trope: Coffee Shop Meet Cute

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Flirting, Masturbation (male), Oral Sex (female recieving), unprotected sex, Vaginal Sex, Snowstorms.

I do not operate a tag list but instead please pop over and follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications, then you’ll get an alert every time i post a new story. My Masterlist got too long and tumblr ate it, so all my past stories can also be found on my AO3, link HERE

A/N: I am considering expanding this story, depending if people like it and want me to? Let me know! <3

Just What I Need

Running the steam through the coffee machine you wiped the nozzle and smiled, there were just fifteen minutes until closing and the coffee shop you worked at was all but abandoned. Just your manager in the back counting the cash takings, and you were getting ready to box up the remaining muffins and cookies for the homeless shelter volunteer to collect dead on closing time.

You didn’t mind working the late shift, in fact you preferred it over the early shift opening up at 7am. The 7am crowd were grumpy, rude and always in a rush. The 7pm customers were tired, quiet, and always thankful for whatever caffeinated delights you provided them with.

The bell over the door rang as it opened and you looked up over the cups that were stacked on top of the machine, smiling at you saw the weary familiar face coming towards you;

“Good Evening Detective” you smiled as the beast of a man stood at the counter. His face softened as he saw you, his shoulders dropping a little as he relaxed.

“Hey… Sorry I’m in so late… you’re still open, right?”

You glanced at the clock;

“Another ten minutes. What can i get you?”

You watched as he cast his gaze up to the handwritten chalkboard menu’s above the counter;

“You got any Chilli left?”

“Sure, a couple of pots in the fridge. Want me to warm it up?”

He paused for a moment, as if trying to process the most technical question through his tired mind;

“No… yes… urghhh…” he took a deep breath; “Yeah… if you wouldn’t mind. I’m so fuckin’ tired i think I’d burn my apartment down if i tried to use the stove”

“Sure thing” you said with a smile as you got to work.

You made small talk as you prepared his order, pulling out the sides and condiments that came with the Chilli meal;

“Hey, you want a free muffin?”

“I’m not really into sweet things this late at night… what flavours you got?”

“How about an Apple Cinnamon? It’ll last overnight and still be fresh enough for breakfast”

The Detective smiled and nodded, pulling his wallet out as you finished bagging his order and rang it through for him, paying before you handed the bag to him;

“Have a good evening Detective”

As he turned he smiled at you;

“Call me Walter”

Three days later and you were on the late shift again. Again it was quiet, just the soft sound of tyres driving through slushy snow outside the only noise since around 6pm as just a couple of customers nursed steaming mugs of coffee from their window seats. You saw the big silver truck pull up in the space outside the coffeeshop and smiled, there was only one customer that drove a truck that huge and if you were being honest with yourself you were developing quite a crush on the curly haired Detective.

The moment he walked through the door you were smiling at him;

“Detective” you greeted him happily

“Didn’t i say to call me Walter last time i was here?”

“I like Detective, has a nice authority ring to it” you said with a wink; “What can i get you tonight?”

He paused for a moment, and as you reached for a notepad to jot down his order you missed the slight eyebrow raise and smirk at what you’d said before he cleared his throat;

“What have you got that i can eat in my office without facing the wrath of my Lieutenant for making the department stink?” he said with a grin as he leaned on the counter.

“I got Mozzarella and Pesto Subs? Tuna Melt?”

“Tuna is a no. The case isn’t going well, no fish. Gimme two Mozzarella Subs, and the largest black coffee you do”

“Sure thing. I’ll put a fresh pot on and get those sub’s on the press”

As you started to prepare his order his phone rang, and you couldn’t help but to listen in;

“... i’ll be like five minutes, i ain’t eaten all day… yeah ok… i’ll grab a box…”

He hung up and nodded to the cakes;

“Can i get a dozen muffins to go too? Got some grunts that are jealous that i got to escape the paperwork…”

“Sure thing”

Loading a box you picked what you knew were the best flavours and the freshest bakes;

“You know, we’re on Uber Eats. As much as its nice to see a friendly face, we can deliver to the Precinct”

“I… I have no idea what that is…”

“Its a food delivery app. Here, give me your phone…”

He unlocked it and set it down and rested his elbows on the counter as he watched;

“You go to the app store and just download it. Put in your location and it’ll bring up nearby eateries and you can search for us. It has all the standard menu on. Save your card details or link it to paypal, and its super easy, it even keeps you updated when the order is being prepared or its out for delivery”

He smiled as you pushed the phone back to him, locking the screen and pushing it back into his tight jeans;

“That’s all well and good, but then i wouldn’t get a chance to see my favourite coffee shop girl now, would i?”

You leaned forward and grinned, keeping your voice low;

“Order between 6.45 and 7pm and i snag the deliveries and do them on my way home”

Walter pushed the key into the lock, opening the door to his apartment and groaning as his body ached from tiredness. He should be elated, they caught the killer, the evidence was logged and couldn’t be disputed… and yet he was tired to his core. He’d been at his desk for longer than he’d been home, and when the Lieutenant had finally ordered him to go him a little after 5pm, it had still taken him the better part of an hour to finish up and leave the building.

Shutting the door behind him he felt his stomach rumble. He didn’t even need to look in the fridge to know it was completely empty, devoid of anything even vaguely edible. Checking his phone he saw that it was a little after 6.30pm and a thought fired across his mind, a smile forming. Fifteen minutes later he’d added far more to his online basket than he ever would have done in store, but for the first time he was able to see exactly what the creations were whereas in the store it was just a big pile of weird looking cakes and bakes. By 6.50pm he’d entered his card details and completed the order, the little update screen stating delivery would be by 7.30pm, just enough time to grab a shower, after all if it was you that would deliver, he should probably shower for the first time in 72 hours having rushed out of the apartment three mornings in a row due to new leads in the case.

The shower was far too enjoyable to rush, and after he’d washed his hair he started on his body, soaping over his chest and stomach before he paid extra attention to his dick. The anticipation of just the possibility of seeing you had him hard in seconds, and resting his head back against the tiled wall he quickly worked his hand over himself. He got lost in the moment, his mind taking him to places it shouldn’t, imagining his hand was yours, thinking about that time he saw you wearing over the over the knee knit socks and a skirt, how your ass was the perfect roundness, how your lips would look stretched around his dick… he came with a groan, thick white ropes falling to the shower floor as every ounce of stress left his body, his body shuddering when he was finally spent.

He was halfway through drying himself when he heard a knock at the door to his apartment, he eyes going wide when he saw it was 7.20pm;

“Fuck!”

He’d gotten carried away in the shower, and now he had to quickly rush to wrap a towel around his waist as a second knock came just as he reached the door, taking a deep breath before opening it and seeing you standing on the doorstep shivering in your padded coat, holding two takeout bags;

“Hey! Come in, come in, Jeez its freezing out there…”

Stepping into the apartment you couldn’t help but to look him up and down, attempting to hide your reaction as you could clearly see the distinct outline of something rather large bulging against the fabric of the fluffy white towel;

“Hey D-d-detective… Y-y-yeah it’s d-d-dropping fast out t-t-there… radio s-s-said it was g-g-gonna be a wind chill of minus t-t-twenty nine by eight o’clock… what a n-n-night to have my b-b-bike, huh?” You carefully dropped the two bags onto his coffee table as you spoke.

“You cycled here? On that pedal bike that is always chained up outside the coffee shop?” he asked incredulously, immediately forgetting his current state of undress. Shutting the door he immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to his chest; “You’re gonna stay here until you’re warmed up, i’m gonna make you a hot coffee and to warm you up from the inside too...”

“I ain’t gonna complain to that” you mumbled, your face pressed to his chest as you suddenly melted against him, warming your cheek against his firm muscles before turning your head to warm the other one and he let out a little gasp as your cold hands pressed against his sides.

“I also said for you to call me Walter…” he said quietly.

Pulling your head back you smiled at him;

“Thank you, Walter. You’re the best… though you’re the first delivery i’ve made where i’ve been greeted by someone in just a towel”

“Sorry, let me go put some clothes on…”

You tighten your grip around his waist;

“I wasn’t complaining…”

There was no poignant pause, no longing gazes, his lips met with yours and the kiss was fierce and hungry. He was pushing your coat down your arms and you reluctantly released your hold from his waist to let it drop to the floor, your sweater following soon after. Your lips met again and he was lifting you, wrapping your legs around his waist as his hand rested on your ass beneath your skirt as he walked you through the apartment before dropping you on his bed.

He was pulling your boots off your feet as you scrambled up the bed, your hands reaching for your thigh high socks when he suddenly caught your hands in his;

“Leave those on…”

You paused and grinned, before his lips met yours again and he was on top of you, his hands sliding up your skirt and bunching it around your waist as he pressed a trail of open mouthed kisses down the valley of your breasts and over your stomach, before briefly lifting his head enough to pull your panties down your legs and toss them aside.

As he lowered his mouth to your core his gaze was intense, vivid blue shining through the dim light of his bedroom, his tongue pushing through your soaked petals and parting them as his beard brushed against your skin, heightening all of the sensations. Wrapping his arms around your thighs he pulled you closer to his mouth, his tongue pushing into you and he started to fuck you with it whilst his bearded face tickled your clit. You were squealing and struggling to stay still, needing to anchor yourself on something as your hips bucked and your orgasm started to rapidly approach, your hands finding their way to his still wet hair and your fingers wrapping around the dark curls as he pressed a hand to your stomach to keep you still, growling at your taste on his tongue as he felt you shake as your orgasm took over.

When your body had finally stopped shaking Walter pressed a chaste kiss to the inside of each of your thighs before he sat back on his haunches, licking his lips where he could still taste you on them. Pushing yourself up onto your elbows you grinned at him, your gaze travelling down his thick chest to his stomach, and the trail of hair that led beneath the towel;

“You gonna show me what you’ve got under that towel, Detective?”

“You ready for what i’ve got under this towel darlin’?”

Pushing yourself up to sitting, your legs spread and bent either side of him, you hooked a finger into the towel and tugged, your eyes going wide when you saw his thick meaty cock standing hard and proud between his muscled thighs. Wrapping your hands around it you relished the feel of his silky skin as it moved over the hardness beneath, your mouth against his;

“I need you inside me”

“I… Fuck… this wasn’t planned… i haven’t got any protection…”

“I’m on birth control, I want to feel you bare…”

With a growl he surged forwards, capturing your lips with his own before he pushed you down onto the bed. Holding himself up on one hand he hooked your leg up over his hip, opening you like a winter blossom as he rubbed his dick through your soaked folds, dousing himself with your slick wetness. You whined at the teasing, the way his tip would brush against your hole only to move up to your clit;

“Walter, please… you promised to warm me up from the inside…”

He paused, a smirk on his face;

“You want me to get you a coffee? ‘Cos i can stop…”

“NO, i need your diiiiiiiiii….FUCK!” He’d pushed into you as you were mid sentence, the feeling of his meaty girth splitting your walls wide open overwhelming you and your eyes rolled back in their sockets; “OH MY GOD!”

“You like that Darlin? You feeling warmer now?”

“Please… please fuck me…”

He grinned and shifted his hips, grinding into you;

“Well, as you said please…”

You had been expecting him to pound you into the mattress, you had not been expecting for his technique to start off with sensual rolls of his hips, filling you tenderly and carefully whilst you got used to his size. It was almost overwhelming, completely surrounded as he caged you in with his massive arms, his chest pressed against your own as his hips worked utter magic. He pulled his legs wide apart, shifting to rest on your open hips and he got even deeper. Pressing kisses to your lips and neck he soon had you moaning and begging for release, every push and pull hitting just the right spots and you were almost embarrassingly wet from the arousal but it only added to the sensations.

You could feel yourself coming, the pleasure too much to hold back, and with a long low moan your body betrayed you and succumbed to the orgasm that had been building in the pit of your belly. Walter kept up the same speed of his thrusts but pushed a little harder, a little deeper with each one;

“Can feel you fluttering around me, you gonna cum for me? You look so fucking beautiful all fucked out and wanting, feel so fucking amazing…”

Just as your orgasm was at its peak he tensed and you could feel his cum flooding into you, the twitching of his dick as he filled you with his seed prolonging your high. When you had both finally finished you could feel his weight start to get heavier on top of you, before with a sudden and surprising act of nimble dexterity he rolled the pair of you over so you were laying atop of him, his softening dick slipping out and you felt the trickle of his seed flow out of you. With one massive hand he pulled the duvet across your bodies, and you snuggled up to his chest;

“That was the best tip ever” you giggled; “In fact definitely more than the tip”

At that moment you not only heard but felt his stomach growl, looking up and seeing him grin sheepishly as he spoke;

“I just want you to know this is not how i usually treat food deliveries… do you want something to eat? Or drink?”

Nodding you smiled;

“That'd be nice”

A while later you were cleaned up, Walter having given you one of his massive t-shirts to wear which came to the tops of your thighs. He’d grazed through half the contents of his order as you nibbled on a muffin, having eaten at the coffee shop during a very quiet last hour of your shift. You’d laughed and chatted as the pair of you had eaten on the comfort of Walters couch, before you’d suddenly stopped mid sentence;

“Shit, i left my bike in the lobby… will it be safe there until i go home?”

Walter smiled at you, his hand curling around your thigh;

“Have you heard that weather out there? I’d be surprised if you could even ride it home through three foot of snow…” he paused for a moment; “Stay the night…”

You went to object, decline politely but you caught yourself, why? Why shouldn’t you spend the night? Taking a deep breath you smiled;

“I’d love to”

_____________________________________________

Part 2 >>>

#walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall x you #henry cavill #walter marshall smut #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall fanfic

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uvobreakmylegs · 3 years

Text

On Golden Wings

Anonymous requested a Kurapika x reader story where Kurapika has a mythical element.

Kurapika is technically a seraph in this, but I added some elements of a griffin because I thought it was fun and Kurapika is extra so it fits

(sorry about the bad title it was the best I could come up with)

Warnings: mentions of violence, kidnapping, threats of torture, implied death

Feathers.

Everywhere you looked, you could find golden-brown feathers strewn about the city. In the streets, sticking out of bushes, stuck within whatever cracks they could find or drifting across the pavement as the wind pushed them along. Even some children would pick them up and use them as accessories.

When they first began to appear people had noticed them quickly – they were hardly small, some that you had seen were longer than the entire length of your hand. Questions about them came just as fast, on where they had come from and what kind of bird this was, to be losing so many feathers at such a seemingly rapid pace. The local zoo and bird sanctuary claimed to know nothing, and no one of the upper class within the city admitted to having some sort of exotic pet that had escaped. And if all of those parties were telling the truth, it only meant that it was wild. And once again taking in the size, it was extremely likely that it was a bird of prey.

The fears began then. That there was a monster bird stalking the city, ready to maim and kill whatever it came across. Despite the fact that there was no evidence of any actual danger, once those ideas were planted fear was quick to make the majority of the public lose their minds. For a few weeks, at least. Once enough time had passed and there were no reports of anyone turning up dead, the public's sights shifted to a new fear to worry over, and the feathers that covered the city were accepted as a new norm with only a small handful of people still trying to find the feathers' origins.

You fell within the former category, content to accept that the feathers were there to stay and since it wasn't actually affecting anyone negatively, it wasn't anything to worry about. The feathers could get annoying, yes, but it was a nuisance that was easily taken care of so you could get on with your day.

Whether it was just an abnormally large bird or something that fell under the category of a magical beast, you had no desire to kick that particular hornet's nest just to sate your own curiosity. There were things in this world that were beyond your comprehension. You were happy to accept that fact and content to continue living your life not worrying about such things.

The feathers stayed, and you continued as normal.

Or at least, you would have had it not been for a chance encounter one night.

It was a late Sunday evening when your work shift finally ended. It had been a hectic, exhausting day as usual and you wanted nothing more than to return home and pass out on your bed.

The walk back towards your apartment was quiet, with virtually no one else on the street and only a few cars passing you by every once in a while. Though you usually did your best to keep yourself calm, there was always a part of your brain that worried about being out alone so late at night. Women getting snatched up and murdered was something you frequently saw in the murder documentaries you occasionally watched, and as much as you told yourself that it could never happen, it didn't hurt to keep your guard up, subtly glancing around the area every so often to make sure no would-be murderer was following you.

Checking around again, you sighed to yourself when you confirmed that there was in fact no one tailing you. Adjusting the grip you held on the paper bag holding the donut you'd grabbed before you left your work, you told yourself that at least there was no one there to see you acting like a paranoid idiot.

But even you were caught off-guard when you heard a commotion coming from the alleyway a few feet ahead of you, followed by a stray cat who ran out and down the street at full speed. You stood still for a few seconds, waiting to see if anything else would come out. Nothing did, but you could hear movement from within the alley. Along with.... Breathing? It was most likely a person, then, and who knew what they were doing in there.

Common sense told you that you should probably go to the other side of the street before going past the alley, or maybe even to turn around and find an alternate route home. As much as an inconvenience it was, you would have done just that had you not seen the flurry of feathers that came rushing out of the alley, followed by what sounded like the flapping of wings.

…. That didn't seem normal. Granted, none of this seemed very normal, but the sounds and things you saw coming from that alley were decidedly strange.

Maybe the thing that's been leaving those feathers was in there.

The thought popped into your head, and once it had, you had a hard time getting your legs to take you away from the area.

You didn't care what sort of creature was hanging around the city. That was what you had told yourself. So why were you slowly moving forward, straining your neck to try and get a glance at whatever was in that alley? You didn't care, and you weren't going to actually do anything with that information.

But just getting a quick glance at it wouldn't hurt, right?

You took a few small steps forward, and finally, you could see into that alley.

A young blonde man, most likely in his early twenties and wearing all white, stood before you, a hand holding a trash bin lid as he was very obviously rooting through the garbage. But those things weren't even what was most significant about him.

It was the four large wings that protruded from his back.

Even as he held them tightly to himself, the wings still brushed against the walls and ground of the alley, the natural grime of the ally dirtying the golden-brown feathers. There was also a tail that swayed from side to side, resembling that of a lion and of a similar color to that of the wings. And to top it off, you noticed that on his bare feet and his hands were long sharpened nails. Or perhaps they were claws. Either way they looked deadly, and you inhaled sharply when you noticed him freeze.

He slowly turned his head, looking over his shoulder to glare at you with sharp gray eyes.

The two of you stood there for some time, neither of you taking your eyes off of the other even when he turned to face you fully, tossing the metal lid to the ground with a clatter. His chest puffed up and his wings extended as he stood at his full height. It was a show of force, you realized. He saw you as a threat and was trying to scare you away by intimidating you.

Common sense was back, telling you that you had gotten what you had come for and that you should retreat while he still gave you the chance. He hadn't attacked you, so it was safe to assume he would leave you alone if you left now.

But even as you thought that, another look over his figure made you reconsider. His white clothes were muddied, covered in dirt and what looked like blood. The fabric was ripped in several places as well, the wounds that were beneath partially visible. On a closer inspection, his wings weren't faring much better: there were several spaces that were empty where feathers were clearly supposed to be, and quite a few of the ones that remained looked scruffy and unkempt. Like he had gotten into a fight with something and had lost. Then there was the fact that you had caught him literally digging through the trash. Taking another glance at the trash bin, you saw the remnants of rotting food sitting at the top.

He must be hungry.

The man continued to glare at you, and then tensed when you held out the paper bag that you had been holding.

“Do you want this?” you asked, offering it to him.

His eyes narrowed further, and he looked at the bag and then back to you.

“What is it?” he asked.

Relieved that he could understand you, you answered “a donut. Food.”

He stayed quiet as you continued to hold the bag out to him, his guard not letting down in the slightest. He was clearly trying to assess if you were plotting something and if this was some sort of trap. You tried not to be offended. You had never heard of people with wings before, but if you had, you were certain that the general public would have treated them as being some sort of magical beast to be gawked at or hunted. Based off of his actions, he must have good reason not to trust you, and you couldn't blame him for that.

“Toss it over to me,” he finally said.

You did as he told you, throwing the bag over which he caught with one hand.

He carefully opened the top, peering inside while his figure relaxed slightly. Once he had determined that there was nothing wrong with the bag, he tentatively reached inside to grab what would have been your late-night snack, letting the bag fall to the ground as he inspected the donut, turning it over and sniffing at it. It was the first time you had seen someone give such an accusatory look towards a simple donut.

He looked back at you briefly before taking a small bite, carefully chewing before he swallowed. You saw the tension in him dissipate further, and he took a few more bites as he leaned back against the alley wall, satisfied that you hadn't done anything to tamper with the food. He would periodically glance over at you as you smiled to yourself, happy that he seemed to like it.

“Can I come closer?” you asked.

He paused in between bites, once again looking you over.

“.... Not too close,” he finally answered.

Delighted, you took a few steps forward, stopping when he ordered you to stop with a swish of his tail.

��You're a strange one,” he commented as he continued to eat, “why did you do this?”

You shrugged.

“I wanted to help.”

“But why?”

“You were hungry.”

He didn't seem satisfied with your answer as his eyes narrowed at you once again, but he chose to continue eating instead of questioning you further. Within moments, the donut was gone, and he was licking the last remnants of it off of his fingers.

“That was hardly filling,” he said, “but your kindness is appreciated.”

Lifting off of the wall, he turned and began to walk away.

“Wait!” you called out.

He stopped, glancing back at you.

“What is it?”

“Can I help you with anything else? Is there anything you need?”

“What else could I need from you?”

“Maybe some bandages? You're hurt, aren't you?” you pressed.

One of his hands instinctively went to his stomach that had one of the many wounds on his body, covering it as he bit his lip. He turned away and began to walk again.

“If I decide that I require your assistance again, I will come to you,” he called out, “but do not count on such a thing happening.”

“... Okay,” you answered, feeling a bit dejected.

“Could you at least tell me your name?”

He ignored your question as he reached the other end of the alley, his wings spreading out and lifting him up with such a force that the backdraft he created caused the paper bag on the ground to fly up and hit you squarely in the face.

Despite what he had said you saw him the next day, peering at you through the thick foliage of a local park. He vanished the instant the two of you made eye contact, his golden head popping back down beneath the leaves.

He must have been confident that he would get your attention and not alert anyone else that was around, you mused.

Or he was just that desperate.

Taking it as an invitation, you made your way into the the thick bit of forest within the park, quickly coming upon a small clearing where he stood, arms crossed as he waited for you.

“Am I right in thinking that you wanted to see me?” you asked, grinning as he nodded.

“Yes,” he said, sighing, “I'm trusting that you didn't tell anybody about our meeting last night?”

“Who would I even tell? No one would believe me.”

“And you intend on keeping my existence a secret?”

“Again, no one would buy it.”

“Very well,” he responded. His gaze shifted to the ground next to him in an almost bashful way.

“Is that offer to help still on the table?”

He couldn't look at you, and he was clearly embarrassed that he needed to ask.

“Of course,” you said, smiling at him.

“I have nothing of value, and will not be able to compensate you in any way. Is that still acceptable?”

“I don't care about anything like that. Just tell me what you need,” you insisted.

“As long as you're certain,” he said, his wings lowering in defeat as he let out another small sigh.

“You were correct last night; bandages would be very useful. It's also been a while since I had a proper meal, so if you could bring me some more food, it would be appreciated.”

“Got it. Anything else?”

“Just that for now.”

Nodding at him, you hurried out of the park and to the nearest grocery store. One quick trip later and you had returned, holding a bag full of bandages, medical supplies and food that you hoped he would like.

He hummed as he looked through it, picking out the bandages and ripping the packaging open. He glanced over to you a few times as he did so, looking more embarrassed every time he looked away.

“... Do you want me to leave?” you asked.

“If that is alright with you,” he mumbled, “I don't wish to be rude after you've done me a favor, but the majority of my interactions with your kind have been largely.... Unpleasant. I would feel more comfortable if-”

“It's alright. I get it,” you said.

“Thank you,” he said, sighing in relief.

You made your way to the 'entrance' of the clearing, then stopped.

“Can I ask you one thing, though?”

He looked nervous again, but nodded slowly.

“Can you tell me your name?” you asked, smiling at him.

“..... Kurapika.”

“So what do you normally eat?” you asked, resting your chin on your knees.

“Before I came here I largely ate the animals that I could hunt down,” Kurapika answered, “but the majority of the animals in this city are domesticated, and I couldn't bring myself to hunt any of them.”

“Why?”

He glanced away, a slight pout on his face.

“Just thinking about killing someone's pet for food made me feel badly, even if I was desperate enough for that.”

Kurapika sat across from you in the clearing, taking bites out of the lunch you had brought him for the day. He had forbidden you from visiting him more than once per day, in the event that your behavior would stick out as being suspicious to anyone that was trying to hunt him. So you went once every day under the guise of eating lunch in the park, secretly taking him a big meal that could get him through until the next day.

You wanted to ask about his life before he had become a fugitive, but you knew that would only cut your visit short. Any question that was even vaguely related to where he had come from and how he had ended up in this situation would result in him clamming up. It was clearly something that still caused him immense amounts of pain, and you didn't want to add to it. So you did your best to steer your conversations to more mundane subjects that you hoped wouldn't upset him. It had taken a lot of effort and convincing him that you were on his side and that all you wanted was to help him, and you didn't want to ruin that by asking intrusive questions.

His wings were in slightly better shape (after he reluctantly allowed you to help him clean them) though a lot of them were still growing back in.

“How long did you say your molting period lasts again?”

“About two months,” said Kurapika, “I believe it's been a little over a month since I started, so it should be over soon. Then I'll be able to leave this area.”

“Do you think the people who hurt you will follow after?”

“Most likely. But when my molting has ended they won't have a trail of my feathers to hunt me down again,” he said.

“I really do have to thank you,” he continued, “you helping me like this means I don't need to go out and risk getting caught.”

“Happy to help,” you said, grinning.

“I think I'll be sad when you leave, though.”

“I can't remain here,” he said, finishing up the last of his meal.

“I know. But I'll miss being able to talk to you. I really like you.”

Kurapika paused, looking over you carefully before snapping his head away, another blush on his face.

“We barely know each other. Ridiculous.”

You just smiled in response.

Although he stopped mentioning it out loud, he was continually perplexed by your willingness to help him. There were many times during your visits with him that he would watch you carefully, or even watch the woods that surrounded the two of you as if anticipating an ambush. While he trusted you enough at this point to believe that you had no intentions of harming him, he didn't trust that you wouldn't be followed, and he emphasized to be on the lookout for anyone who seemed suspicious.

You weren't sure what exactly counted as suspicious until you happened across the two magic beast hunters.

Walking by a crowded plaza, it seemed quieter than was expected. Everyone there was speaking in hushed whispers and seemed nervous about something. The air around the plaza made you pause, and you looked around the area to see what exactly was causing people to behave in this way.

Then you saw the hunters, armed to the teeth with an array of gnarly looking weapons accosting some old man. One of them was tall with a stocky build, looking smug while his partner, a smaller scruffy-looking man with far more knives than was reasonable did the talking. You frequently saw the old man make an attempt to leave but the hunters wouldn't let him, the bigger one going as far as to grab him by the shoulder to keep him in place while the other continued to speak to him, waving one of Kurapika's feathers in his face.

Oh shit.

You wanted to just run out of there and get away from them as fast as you could, but that would have gotten their attention. It would be less suspicious if you followed the example of the others you saw in the plaza and quietly left. Surely they wouldn't notice you among the dozens of others hoping to leave without attracting their attention.

It was easier to breathe when you had made it to the side streets, and when you saw Kurapika that day you told him everything. When you had described them to him, his hand went back to the healing wound on his stomach.

“Those were the ones who attacked me. You're certain they didn't see you?” he asked.

“I'm sure of it. There were too many other people around for them to have noticed me.”

“Alright. But if you ever see them again, don't come that day. Right now I'm still too weak to fight them, so if they found me it'd be over.”

You nodded. He wasn't back to 100% yet, but he had been doing much better since you had begun to help him. Even so, you didn't want to let him go without food for a day, but it was better that he go hungry for a bit instead of being captured.

There was a tense air that stayed over the next few days, and you noticed a change in Kurapika. Dark circles were forming under his eyes and you asked if he hadn't been sleeping well. Instead of actually answering your question he told you not to worry about it.

That only made you worry more.

This particular day you had asked him if he was doing okay, and he said that he was fine, brushing away your concerns, his annoyance evident.

But not five minutes later he fell over.

Directly onto you.

It was almost panic-inducing when it happened, and the first thought that went through your mind was that he had literally dropped dead. But after a moment you could see that he was still breathing. Given the dark circles that were under his eyes, Kurapika seemed to have passed out due to sheer exhaustion.

'You can't stay with him. You have work in an hour,' you thought to yourself.

So why were you adjusting him so his head could rest comfortably on your lap?

He'd probably be mad at you if you stayed with him while he was completely vulnerable. If there was one thing you learned during your time with him, he hated to appear to be weak in front of others.

But the thought of just leaving him passed out on the forest floor left a bad taste in your mouth.

After a few minutes, you called your work to say that you were sick and couldn't come in. As expected, your manager was upset and berated you over the phone. At least that call only lasted a few minutes. The money you would lose today would hurt a little bit, especially with all of the spending you'd been doing on Kurapika, but when you looked back down at his sleeping form, you were confident that you'd made the right choice.

Kurapika slept soundly on your lap, his wings and tail twitching from time to time. You laid a hand on his head, slowly stroking his blonde hair. Your touch was light, and yet you heard him let out a soft sigh and saw his body relax further. How long had it been since he had received a kind touch from anyone? Likely just as long as the last time anyone had shown him any kindness. Your thoughts went again to the questions he wouldn't answer: what had happened to his friends and family? How had he ended up like this?

You thought of those questions, and yet you could make a pretty good guess as to the answers. He had been alone on the streets digging through the trash for food, covered in wounds and dirt, carrying no money and being chased by hunters. If his life was in danger like that, then it was clear that his loved ones weren't alive anymore.

Time passed, and the sun dipped lower into the sky while Kurapika continued to sleep. You let him stay as he was, even when it was becoming uncomfortable for you as your legs began to fall asleep.

There wasn't a lot you could do for him, and while it hurt to admit it, what you were able to do for him wouldn't be much in the long run. But even if it helped in even the slightest, you wanted to do whatever you could.

It was nearing evening when he finally stirred, his wings fluttering slightly as he blearily opened his eyes. He seemed to take a little bit to fully awaken and realize the situation, his eyes widening in surprise and looking up at you.

You were expecting him to become upset. To shoot up and ask what you were doing, or to just turn away from you and tell you to leave.

But instead he stayed as he was, head on your lap as he continued to look up at you.

The silence was becoming awkward for you, and you cleared your throat before explaining “sorry. You fell asleep and, uh, I didn't feel good just leaving you.”

He stared at you, unblinking.

“I don't remember falling asleep,” Kurapika finally said.

“You just fell over,” you explained, laughing a bit as you continued, “fell over right onto me, actually.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“Ah! No, I'm fine.”

“That's good,” he said.

Kurapika pushed himself up, switching to a sitting position in front of you. He glanced about the clearing and noted how late it was.

“Isn't it too late for you to be here? Didn't you have work?” he asked.

“It's fine. I called in.”

“Won't that be an issue?”

“Ah, well. My coworkers won't be happy with me, and I'll probably get bullied a bit by the manager tomorrow,” you explained, but you tried to change your tune when you noticed how his face fell.

“It's fine, though! It's not the end of the world because I called in one day of work.”

He didn't look convinced, but he seemed to concede as he sighed at you (just how often had he sighed at you at this point?).

“Shouldn't you head back to your home? In case someone goes there to check up on you?”

“There isn't going to be anybody coming to check on me,” you assured him.

“You should still head back; you've been out here too long,” he insisted.

“Okay. But, uh,” you began, scratching the back of your head, “could I wait a little bit? My legs are still asleep.”

“That's fine.”

The both of you stayed where you were, sitting in the clearing while you waited for the feeling to return to your legs and feet. Kurapika was still staring at you, a thoughtful look on his face. Just as you had been surprised earlier that he hadn't immediately retreated from you when he'd woken up, it was unusual that he stayed this close to you. He hadn't made any move to back away. It was a stark contrast to how things had been when you had first met.

“You don't have to keep an eye on me, you know?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I just mean, you don't have to wait on me until I leave. If you've got other things to do, you don't have to keep your attention on me. As soon as my legs feel better I'll be out of here.”

You weren't sure what other things he might need to do without you there, but you didn't want to assume that there was nothing. With the way he was staring at you, it felt as though you were inconveniencing him in some way.

“It's fine,” he said. You hummed an affirmative, and the silence fell back over you.

When you felt like you were able to safely walk again, he spoke.

“You remind me of someone I once knew.”

… This was new. Kurapika had never talked about anyone other than the beast hunters that were trying to track him down.

“In what way?” you asked.

“Going out of your way to look out for me. Taking care of me, even at your own expense,” he added wistfully. There was a distant look in his eyes as he appeared to recall his memories of this person.

“Were they.... Like you?” you asked, unsure if that was the best way to phrase the question.

“Yes. His name was Pairo, and he was part of our clan,” said Kurapika, “he died with the rest of them when a group of murderers found our home.”

“I'm sorry,” you said, “I can't imagine what you've been through.”

He hummed noncommittally, seemingly lost in his thoughts.

“Are they the one who're chasing you?” you asked.

Kurapika let out a harsh breath that resembled a laugh.

“If they were I wouldn't be talking to you,” he said, “they didn't seem to care that one of us happened to not be there. At this point, I wonder if they even remember about my people and what they did to them. No, the ones who are after me are petty bottom-feeders. Apparently they want to sell me off as being an exotic pet.”

“They're... Hunting you for that? But then why did they hurt you?” you asked, looking at his bandaged wounds.

“Doesn't seem like they're that good at taking something alive. I suppose I'm lucky that they're not trying to kill me,” he scoffed, “if I'm having such trouble with rabble like them, it's only a testament to how weak I really am, and how much stronger I'll need to become if I want revenge for Pairo and the others.”

You didn't know how to respond. You couldn't respond. There was nothing you could say to offer him any sort of comfort, and any sort of encouragement or guarantees that things would be fine would be insulting.

“I'm sorry,” you said again.

He didn't answer you.

You stood up on slightly shaking legs, giving him a short goodbye and promising to see him tomorrow. He nodded in response.

The next day he was gone.

The clearing was virtually empty with no signs that he had been there other than the feathers that you had grown so accustomed to. It was the first time since you started this that he was gone when you went to visit, and your first thought was that he needed to leave to take care of something....... In the middle of the day. While trying to lay low.

Yeah, maybe not.

Your next assumption was that he had been discovered and taken away. But surely there would be some evidence of a struggle, right? And there was nothing that indicated that Kurapika had left unwillingly. Then the next thought was that he had found a new hiding place. Maybe those hunters had come a bit too close for his liking and he felt like he needed to find someplace safer, and he just didn't have a way to find you and tell you where it was yet.

That last scenario somehow seemed less likely than the other two, and you were forced to reconcile with the idea that he had left.

It wasn't too unexpected. He'd been getting better, and his molting was almost finished so he'd be able to fly about safely.

You had just hoped that he would've told you so you could have given him a proper farewell.

Maybe what had happened the day before had upset him more than you had realized. That hadn't been your intention, but who knew what it had looked like to him.

But he had opened up to you a bit more, hadn't he?

It was confusing and you didn't understand, but the longer you stood in that empty clearing, you accepted that he was gone, and your chances of seeing him again were likely nothing.

You tried to be happy for him. It was a good thing that he was able to finally leave the area. Hopefully he could get to someplace safer, maybe not need to worry about those people hunting him down, or at least get far enough away that they would have a hard time finding him again.

But even then, you couldn't help but feel sad that he really was gone.

You set the bag of food meant to be his lunch in the middle, just in case he did come back and needed something. It seemed unlikely, but you felt better leaving it for him. As you weaved back through the trees that surrounded the space, you picked up one of his errant feathers that had been caught in a branch, running your fingers over it. A small memento; something to remember him by. It was the most you could ask for, and you told yourself to be happy that you were able to help the way you did.

With you being so caught up in these thoughts, you didn't notice one of the hunters from earlier standing at the edge of the park, or the way he watched you as you left.

It was another Sunday night after work: your feet hurt from standing too much, your back and arms hurt from the overwork, and if you needed to hear one more complaint from an entitled customer you'd probably stab your own ears just to get away from those shrill voices. The one consolation you had was that you weren't working the closing shift and didn't need to worry about taking care of customers while simultaneously trying to close up for the night. Once the end of your shift came around, all you needed to do was run to the break room, gather your things and escape.

One day you'd get a better job, you told yourself. Something that you actually enjoyed and wouldn't cause you ungodly amounts of stress. You just needed to figure out what that could be.

Your thoughts went back to Kurapika as you walked the familiar path back to your home. It wasn't all that long that he had been around, really, and yet the idea of not seeing him again felt strange to you.

You pulled out the feather that you stowed away in your bag, looking it over again. With how busy you had been throughout your shift, you had managed to take your thoughts away from him, but now that things were more quiet, he was all you could think about.

It wasn't too late yet, with some people walking along the same walkway as you, but that didn't stop the car that suddenly pulled up next to you.

Or the man who opened the door and pulled you inside.

The amount of force he had used to grab you almost broke your arm, and all you could do was scream as you were shoved against the seat as the man who had grabbed you yelled at the other to drive while he shut the door behind you, keeping his forearm on your throat to the point that you could hardly breathe.

A knife in your face and him yelling at you to “shut the fuck up” made you silent, and your fingers latched onto the seat beneath you, your nails tearing holes into the worn fabric.

The car sped along, almost hitting several other vehicles and pedestrians in the process. Doing your best to calm down, you realized that the men who had grabbed you were the hunters you had been avoiding; the bigger one in the driver's seat while the smaller one waved one of his knives around, nicking your face a few times when the car lurched him from side to side.

It finally stopped on an empty embankment by a river. The water that rushed through the canal was almost black and it was impossible to see to the bottom.

'They're going to kill me,' you thought. 'They're going to kill me and then dump my body in the water.'

Your heart was beating in your ears when the smaller hunter began speaking.

“Let's make this quick, okay? A lotta people saw our little stunt and the police'll probably be here soon,” he said.

“We really need to know where that bird boy went. Tell us everything you know, and you'll be able to get home safely. If not-”

He grabbed one of your hands and held it up to your face.

“- I'm gonna to cut off your fingers one by one 'til you talk, and then they'll need to fish your body out of the river when we're done with you. If you're smart, you'll pick the first option.”

You sat there in shock as this man spoke so matter-of-factly about brutally torturing and murdering you while the man behind him sat there grinning.

There was a lump in your throat, and you couldn't make any sort of sound.

“Listen you stupid bitch,” he hissed, grabbing your face and pulling you closer, “I'm not gonna lose any sleep over killing you. His life is valuable; yours isn't. So tell me where the fuck he is or-”

You spat in his face. There was barely any saliva with how dry your mouth was, but you managed it.

One of his blood veins popped and his lip quivered.

“That was the worst thing you coulda done, you stupid little bitch.”

He barked at the other man to come back and hold you down while his hand went back to your throat, mercilessly choking you to keep you in place. The other man was already stepping out of the car, and with what little you could see, you could tell he seemed excited about the prospect of torturing you.

You tried to pull the knife man's hand off of your throat as he waited for his partner to walk around the car.

And he waited.

And waited.

Black spots were beginning to appear at the edge of your vision when he finally loosened his grip, leaning forward over you to look for his partner through the car windows.

A loud crash from the front of the car startled you both. His hand left your throat completely, and while he turned his gaze to the front, you lurched to the side, desperately grabbing at the door handle.

He noticed your escape attempt with a sharp cry, and you felt something slice down your back as you opened the door and stumbled out.

There weren't any thoughts running through your head as you ran; you were going off of a pure primal instinct and a desire to get out of there and survive.

Noises sounded from behind you: the sound of something flapping and a scream. But you could barely acknowledge them, your eyes only focused on the lights on the road next to the embankment.

You could feel blood running down your back as you ran but you didn't stop. Even when you had put several blocks between you and that car you didn't stop. You needed to get to safety, and that could only be found with other people.

A figure dropped down from the sky in front of you and you ran right into them. They wrapped their arms around you and you screamed, bashing your fists against their chest while you struggled to get out of their grasp.

“Calm down,” a familiar voice said.

You stopped, slowly looking back up to see who was holding you.

In your adrenaline-fueled haze, you managed to not notice the wings the person hand.

“Kurapika-!”

You sobbed into his chest, your hands grabbing the fabric of his shirt while he soothed you. His hand ran down your back and you winced, the skin still tender from where you had been slashed.

“We need to get out of here,” he said.

“Th-those two-!”

“I took care of them. Now hold onto me.”

Kurapika picked you up bridal-style, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. He lifted off the ground as his wings pulled him up, and within moments you were in the sky, miles above the buildings that littered the ground. The air was chillier up here, and as he flew, the wind stung your back-wound, making you bury your face into his neck.

You could vaguely make out him apologizing to you, and something about promising to fix you up. The wind made it hard to hear it, though.

It felt like only seconds had passed when he touched down on top of a large building, carefully lowering you to the ground while continuing to hold you, his wings folding over you to barricade you from the wind.

He ran his hand down your back, careful to avoid the cut while you took in huge gulps of air as you tried to calm down.

Half an hour passed before you could properly form a sentence. You pulled away from him slightly, your tears mostly dry now. There were a lot of questions running around in your mind, and you didn't know where to start.

“I thought you left,” you whispered.

“I did. But I got a bad feeling, so I came back. I'm so glad I did,” he said, a hand trailing down your cheek, “it would have been devastating if I found out that those two had killed you.”

For the first time, you noticed that his hands were covered in blood, but you didn't say anything.

“Thank you,” you whispered, “I- thank you.”

He didn't say anything for some time, and the two of you sat there on that roof. There was still pain coming from you back and you were about to ask that he take you somewhere to get that fixed when he spoke.

“Come with me.”

“What?”

“I can't stay here, and therefore I can't be around to protect you,” he explained, “if those men told anyone else about you, your life is still in danger.

“I was wrong when I left you like that, because for the first time in a long time, I finally have someone who I can't bare to lose. It'll be hard, but I want to rebuild my clan together with you. Once I get my revenge, I want to spend the rest of my days with you. So please, say you'll come with me.”

Kurapika held you tightly against him, his tail wrapping around your ankle.

“Please, let me have this little bit of selfishness,” he breathed.

“..... Okay.”

He tilted your head up to meet your lips in a kiss, and you found yourself pushing up into it, closing your eyes while his wings remained caged around you.

#hxh x reader #kurapika #reader insert #kurapika kurta #seraph #kurapika x reader #possessive kurapika #I don't feel that kurapika really falls under the yandere umbrella #but if anyone disagrees let me know and I'll tag it

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vanserraseris · 3 years

Note

END OF PART IX - I refuse to believe that there is no Autumn Court equivalent for Calanmai, so they celebrate Samhain. Just a warning that Eris is high and drunk for quite a bit of this part and there are a bunch of other people there that are high and drunk as well. Thanks for reading!

lol yeah ive always wondered about calanmai in other courts!!! i love this idea sm

Prince of Ashes. Part IX.

masterlist.

*changed Samhain to Autumn Equinox

Eris felt long fingers drag through his hair, felt nails scrape down his chest, felt lips trace the curve of his throat. Eris leaned his head back on the shoulder of the male behind him, not bothering to stop his moan. The female between his legs licked his neck, the other one at his side, fingers still tangled in his hair, pulled his head towards her. Eris smiled against her lips.

He briefly thought of everything he had to do, a million things he’d been ordered to do, but as soon as the thought entered his mind the sound of someone speaking wrenched his thoughts from it all. “Tell us, my prince, what you want,” the male’s voice was low, silken, as he murmured the words, his lips pressed to the arch of Eris’s ear.

Eris laughed, a snorting funny thing, eyes crinkled with joy and cheeks flushed, “I’m not sure.” Eris wanted many things. His eyes fluttered shut as one of the females placed her hand above the waistband of his pants, the other female pulling his shirt open with curious fingers, the male kissing the sensitive spot behind his ear.

“Eris?”

Eris’s eyes snapped open at the sound of Lucien’s voice, he grinned up at his youngest brother, “My greatest burden,” he beamed, but his words sounded funny, as if they were being dragged out of his mouth. Eris breathed a small giggle, his head feeling heavy as he leaned it back again with a sigh. Eris purred as someone’s hands traced the sharp lines of his collarbones. He should have been embarrassed that such a sound had escaped him, but he actually found it quite funny.

“Stop that,” Lucien growled.

Everyone around him froze, and Eris cackled, “Don’t listen to him,” he managed between his laughter, “No one listens to him.”

“Cauldron boil me,” Lucien mumbled to no one in particular.

“Well, that doesn’t sound very pleasant,” Eris felt Lucien grab his arm.

“Get up,” Lucien said, voice serious. Eris didn’t understand why his brother was in such a foul mood.

“Must you ruin our fun,” said the male behind Eris, his hands still on Eris’s chest.

“Yes I must,” Lucien said matter of factly. Lucien hauled Eris onto his feet, one of Eris’s arms around his shoulders as he kept his older brother upright.

“Awwwww, don’t go, prince,” one of the females pouted.

Eris flashed her a grin, “Later.” A promise he didn’t necessarily intend to keep, but he liked the way she giggled at his conspiratory wink in her direction.

“What the actual fuck,” Lucien was glowering, “Are you doing?”

Lucien had gotten very tall, Eris noticed, “Having fun.”

“Looks like you’ve succumbed to madness.” Eris had never felt so happy, he didn’t mind that Lucien had just insulted him. “You know you shouldn’t be doing things like that in the middle of the fucking courtyard,” Lucien sounded much too serious, “Father might see you.”

“I was off to the side,” Eris corrected, a stupid smile still on his face.

“And what of everyone else in the courtyard?” Lucien hissed.

“It doesn’t matter on this day,” Eris nodded, speaking to Lucien as if he should have known. “That’s sort of the point of it, wouldn’t you agree?”

Lucien ignored his brother’s question and asked him another one. “Have you forgotten that we need to be ready in less than a couple hours for the most important holiday of the Autumn Court?”

“No,” Eris pushed himself off of Lucien, “I have not.” Eris had loved the Autumn Equinox in his youth, he’d been able to try new things - do whatever he wanted to do - all with the excuse that the day’s magic was the cause, but things had changed once he’d gotten a little older. And while he had been feeling very happy a moment before, he was feeling troubled now. He shook his head, shaking away those negative emotions and trying to stay balanced and upright on his own.

“Eris—”

“I’m fine,” Eris smiled again, but Lucien did not return his grin. Eris wasn’t shocked, Lucien was being very boring. Eris only managed to walk a couple steps beside Lucien before he fell to the ground, laughing the whole time. He curled the fingers of one hand into the grass, nails digging into soft earth, the other hand went to his stomach. Sprawled on his back and staring up at the sky, Eris was shaking with silent laughter, he couldn’t help it.

Lucien’s concerned face appeared in his line of sight. Eris stopped laughing rather abruptly. Lucien, the rays of the sun shining behind his head, made it look as though he had a halo of light surrounding him. Eris couldn’t shake the feeling that Lucien looked very familiar, the person Lucien looked like right at the front of Eris’s mind… Lucien knelt down next to his oldest brother, “Eris, you alright?”

Eris grinned, “I’ve never been better, fox.” Eris was still half on the ground, but he sat up, Lucien and him nearly at eye level.

Lucien placed a hand on Eris’s shoulder, biting the inside of his cheek, before he spoke. “You’re really out of it, aren’t you? Just absolutely wasted?”

“I am not,” Eris assured him.

“If I ask you something, you’ll answer honestly?”

“You know what they say,” Eris thought Lucien’s hair looked very bright, and he raised a hand to touch it. “Only madmen and drunkards tell the truth.”

“I think Rufus is the only one who says that.” Lucien’s brows furrowed, his young face troubled as he almost pleaded with Eris. “Why do you push me away? Maybe you’ll give me an honest answer like this.”

Eris smiled a crooked grin, hand on the back of Lucien's head. “I’m protecting you,” Eris whispered, just in case anyone was listening.

Lucien didn’t look like he believed his older brother. He frowned, “You have pixie dust on your face.”

Eris shook his head, hoping that if he looked like he didn’t know what his youngest brother was talking about, maybe Lucien would believe him. “Never touched the stuff,” Eris said, pressing his lips together and furrowing his brows. Eris hoped he looked serious.

“Evidently,” Lucien gently wiped at Eris’s nose and cheek with the sleeve of his dark red jacket.

Brilliant, Eris thought, glad Lucien had believed him. He’d have been a real hypocrite considering how Eris had always told Lucien, and Rufus too, never to take faerie powders.

“Thank the Mother we have fire in our blood, should burn it out of your system before the ceremony.” Lucien helped Eris to his feet once more, “You’re not wearing shoes.”

Eris looked down at his bare feet, wiggling his toes, “You’re very observant,” Eris frowned.

He wasn’t as happy as he’d been a few moments ago. He could have sworn he’d been wearing boots when he’d first gone to the courtyard.

Lucien dragged Eris through the halls of The Forest House, not even stopping when their mother worriedly asked them what had happened. Eris had flashed his mother a sleepy smile as Lucien waved off her concerns. Stumbling into Lucien’s room, Lucien gently sat his brother atop the heavy comforter of his bed.

Eris was leaning on his side, bare feet dangling off the side of the bed as he propped himself up on an elbow. He heard Lucien shuffling around the room, but he didn’t know what his younger brother was doing. Eris was starting to feel a constant, pounding pain in the back of his head. He groaned as he raised a hand to his forehead, eyes clenched shut.

“Drink,” Lucien ordered, shoving something right up to Eris’s face.

Some of Eris’s senses were starting to return and he nodded, knowing that water usually flushed pixie dust out of someone’s system. Eris hadn’t realized how thirsty he was. He grabbed the pitcher out of Lucien’s hands greedily, chugging the water. Some of it spilled, dripping down his chin, his neck, his chest. Eris could barely breathe, his focus solely on drinking as much water as he could and as fast as possible.

Once he’d finished with the water, Lucien took the pitcher from him and went back into the bathroom. Eris heard him turn the faucet on.

Eris’s head was still swimming, but the world was starting to get back into focus. Eris pressed his face into one of Lucien’s many pillows, groaning into the fabric. He was starting to feel a bit like a fool, especially since he had never wanted Lucien to see him like this.

“You sober?”

Eris mumbled his response, the sound muffled by the pillows.

“More water?”

Eris shook his head, afraid he’d hurl on all the revellers later if he drank anymore. Eris felt the bed dip as Lucien sat down. Lucien placed a hand on Eris’s shoulder. “Fucking hells, fox, remind me to never do that again.”

Lucien chuckled, sounding relieved, “You should take more of your own advice, Eris.”

Eris, in his youth, had found himself experimenting with pixie dust. There was a certain appeal to being stupidly happy and ridiculously unbothered all the time. He breathed a laugh, “Good that you came looking for me, but I’d be lying if I said it wouldn’t have been a little funny if I wasn’t there for the ceremony.”

“It would have been a disaster,” Lucien said, and Eris could hear the smile in his voice. “Let me get ready, you wait here.”

Eris was starting to feel like he was in control again. He breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth, trying to gather his thoughts. Copper pixie dust and golden faerie wine were staple products for a good Autumn Equinox celebration. Eris hadn’t had so much pixie dust since before Rufus had been born, running a hand through his hair, Eris couldn’t help thinking that he was definitely going a bit mad.

Eris wasn't entirely sure what had possessed him to go out and celebrate the Autumn Equinox early, but it might have just been to give him some semblance of control on a night where such ancient magic made all the revellers at the event wild - beastly. Even if Eris didn’t necessarily want to participate in the celebration, it was expected of him, expected of all his brothers.

Eris moved up off the pillows, his face still feeling hot from the effects of the pixie dust, only for Lucien to throw a black, sleeveless shirt at him. “You have something all over yours,” Lucien grinned, having changed into Autumn Equinox black, “Something that is decidedly not pixie dust, correct?”

Eris frowned looking at the glittering copper powder on his fingers and where his black shirt was supposed to lace, “Correct.” Eris knew his cheeks were still red from everything he’d taken, but he was also aware of the fact that he’d become even more red in embarrassment. He was glad Lucien hadn’t thought to mention the other revellers Eris had been with. He didn’t necessarily want to explain himself to his youngest brother.

His head was still pounding, but Eris managed to tug his shirt over his head, fingers shaking slightly as he tied the laces. Just as Eris pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed, the door to Lucien’s room swung open.

Rufus grinned, “Found him, fox?” Three shimmering golden lines were painted on the right side of his face, starting above his brow and ending at his jaw, as was tradition on the Autumn Equinox for all of the unmarried fae.

Lucien looked at Rufus through the mirror on his dresser, humming in response as he dipped three fingers into a small pot of that golden paint, slowly dragging them onto his face as well. The paint shined bright against his light brown skin. “Completely wasted and nearly incoherent.”

“That’s greatly exaggerated,” Eris grumbled, running a hand through his hair.

Rufus shook his head, Lucien’s bed making a funny creaking noise as he threw himself onto it. He mumbled something that sounded a lot like “doubtful,” flashing Eris a smile as he said more clearly, “I would pay a whole lot of money to have been alive in your youth.” Russett eyes flaring with amusement, he added, “I have a feeling Micah, Lagos, and Widge have understated your affinity for getting into trouble.”

Eris briefly wondered what the fuck they’d told Rufus, knowing very well that he’d done many questionable and embarrassing things. He shook his head, “I feel like shit.”

“Of course you do,” Lucien shot his eldest brother an amused look, “Think you’ll be able to walk on your own later?”

“Very funny,” Eris said, pulling on a pair of Lucien’s black boots. They were a little tight, but he guessed they’d probably be lost at some point that night anyway.

Lucien sat on the bed again, the pot of paint in his hands. “Here, hold still.”

Eris watched as Lucien dipped his fingers into the golden paint, grabbing hold of Eris’s chin and gently painting the three straight lines on his face. “Cauldron, you’ve gotten big,” Eris muttered.

“Don’t move,” Lucien snapped, “I’ll mess up.”

Eris rolled his eyes, staying quiet, but he continued to watch Lucien. Lucien’s hair had gotten very long, his jaw very square, his face very sculpted. He was as tall as Eris, but much broader. He looked all grown up, having none of the softness in his features that Eris could remember or any of the sharp angles that the rest of his brothers had.

Lucien finally moved back, flashing Eris a smile. A smile Eris recognized.

Eris blinked a couple times, wondering if perhaps he was hallucinating. Or if he was going completely mad. Or if perhaps he wasn’t as intelligent as he liked to think. All three were perfectly good explanations for why Lucien looked almost exactly like Helion Spellcleaver when he smiled. Eris had never asked his mother who Lucien’s father was - he’d never really cared. Eris had always assumed it had been a random courtier, or one of the High Lord’s guards.

He definitely hadn’t thought his mother had been having an affair with the heir of the Day Court. But even Eris’s still-foggy mind thought that it made a whole lot of sense. It would explain Lucien’s magical abilities appearing at such a young age, and why Helion preferred to ignore them all, and why his mother tried to avoid the Day Court.

Eris made a strange sounding choked noise. If he hadn’t spent nearly half the day drinking, he might have been able to control the shock from showing on his face. His jaw went slack as he stared at Lucien in abject, dumbfounded horror.

Lucien looked slightly troubled as he asked, “Are you sure you’re alright, Eris?”

“Maybe he’s about to throw up,” Rufus offered. “I’m fine,” Eris lied. His mother and Helion Spellcleaver had gone off and had a love child, and he most definitely was not fine.

Eris was finding it very hard to believe that no one else had noticed. Someone was bound to find out. Eris wondered if Helion knew, or if he’d guessed. If he’d known and hadn’t come for Lucien, hadn’t come for their mother, Eris didn’t know what he’d do. Eris didn’t like killing people, but he decided he’d make an exception for Helion if he’d known that his son was stuck in the most savage of courts with Beron acting as his father, and had sat back and done absolutely nothing.

Or he wouldn’t kill him. Lucien might not be too pleased with him if he ever found out. And Eris didn’t actually believe Helion was horrible enough to completely abandon his own son. Eris decided that all he needed to do was make sure Lucien didn’t smile anymore in public. With a sigh, Eris flopped back onto the bed, eyes staring at the ceiling, not really wanting to think anymore. He’d thought enough for the day.

He was going to have great fun at a giant orgy later that night and drink himself stupid after the ceremony. If he snorted enough pixie dust, maybe he could convince himself that he’d dreamed the whole thing up.

“Eris,” Lucien started, “Do you need some more water?”

Cauldron boil me, Eris thought, they even sounded the same. “My life is a joke.”

Eris could hear the grin in Rufus’s voice, “The Mother looks down at you and laughs.”

Eris honestly believed that was the case.

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babyybitchhh · 3 years

Text

Ace x Reader 18+

Rating: Explicit/R-18+

Words: 3,201

Warnings: oral sex, cunnilingus, semi established relationship, first time

A/N: Wrote this for my editor in chief, who just got to the climax of Marineford and is very upset about ... you know. She gave the okay to post it, so please enjoy! : )

♥♥♥♥

You were halfway through the motion of lifting the overstuffed laundry basket so you could hand it off to Marco when you suddenly caught movement at the corner of your eye. Distracted from the task at hand, you swivel around only to find Ace leaning through the doorway, beckoning you over with a wave and a big mischievous grin. You eagerly start to smile back, excited to see him, but the sound of Marco expectantly clearing his throat stops you from bolting.

Sheepishly, you turn back around to glance at the blond who offers you a droll look in response. “Don’t even think about it, missy … you’ve been shucking your laundry duty off on other people for weeks now. Do you really think I’ll just let you take off like that?”

Your mouth pulls in a frown, dejected, and Ace not-so-helpfully chimes in with a grumble of ‘no fun!’ Brow arching wryly, Marco shoots him a quick look of warning, putting a stopper on any further commentary before turning his attention to you again.

“Sorry,” you murmur, holding out the basket in resignation. Whatever Ace wanted would just have to wait until the chores were finished.

Silently, Marco takes the laundry from you, studying the dispirited droop of your shoulders for a long beat until, at last, he heaves a yielding sigh. “Go.”

Your head immediately comes up. “What? Really?”

“Yes, really.” He says, trying not to smile when Ace loudly whoops from his spot at the door. “But you owe me. Both of you do, so you’ll take turns filling in for me on the chore rotation, got it?”

“For how long?” You ask, not exactly trusting his generosity at face value. But Ace was already dashing across the room to grab your wrist and unceremoniously yank you towards the doorway, making you squeak and stumble after him.

“A month!” You hear Marco shout after you, just barely, over the racket of Ace’s heavy boots on the plank floorboards.

He doesn’t even give you a chance to respond, clearly making the decision for you as he drags you down the hall like a clumsy toddler until you get your feet situated under you. Laughing, you pick up the pace to jog alongside him with your heart in your throat, cheeks flushed and warm. He was laughing as well, his howling chortle much louder than yours, as his grip adjusts to your fingers so he can swing your arm back and forth between the two of you.

“Where are we going?” You giggle, struggling to breathe around the happy flutter in your chest.

“You’ll see! I’ve got a surprise for you!”

That gives you pause - or at least it would have, if he hadn’t been steering you down the winding corridors of the Moby Dick at an excitable pace. You were completely at his mercy now that he had you in his clutches and all you could do was go along with it, tittering the whole while.

You’re a little surprised, though, when he pulls you right up to the door of his cabin a few moments later, but Ace doesn’t so much as pause. Swinging the door open, he storms inside and slams it shut again before yanking you towards the cot.

“Sit.”

You do, but not without shooting him an inquisitive look.

“Now close your eyes.”

You do this, too, with butterflies in your stomach. Ace was a kind soul, certainly, but he was also prone to making impulsive, sometimes questionable decisions so you weren’t really sure what to expect while you listened to him move about in the small room. It was really anyone’s guess at this point, and you start slightly when you feel him slide something into your lap.

“Okay,” he says, plopping his butt on the mattress to sit beside you. “Open them.”

Obediently, you do just that only to find yourself blinking down at a ribbon wrapped box. It wasn’t very big at all, so likely not anything too extreme, but you could tell the bow on top wasn’t messy enough to be his doing, and you shoot him a questioning glance.

Ace’s grin only widens though; big and boyish, and so frustratingly charming that it makes your heart twist. You still couldn’t believe the effect he had on you, sometimes. “Go on, take a look. I think you’ll like it.”

Certain you would like it, you take the end of the ribbon in hand and tug. It comes loose with a slither and you feel for the seam with your fingertips, quickly finding it and working the top off so you can peer inside.

“Ace …” you warble after a prolonged moment of surprised quiet, eyes wide and glossy. “You shouldn’t have.”

He snickers as he leans close to your shoulder, proudly joining you in regarding the small, personal sized tiramisu sitting within. “It’s your favorite, right? I knew I had to get you something when I saw the bakery in town and I hurried back to the ship as fast as I could so it wouldn’t get all soggy. I hope it still tastes okay.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, trying valiantly to fight back the happy, reflexive tears that threaten to spill over your lashes. “You really shouldn’t have, but thank you. That was so sweet of you.”

His smile falters slightly when he looks up at your face and sees the misty quality of your eyes, fluster quickly creeping into his expression. “Hey, hey! It’s nothing to cry about!” He huffs, suddenly awkward, as he reaches over to drag his index finger through a corner of the cake. “Here, give it a taste. Tell me if it’s any good.”

Your mouth opens, wanting to tell him you’re sure it’s delicious, but he slips the cream covered digit past your lips before you can get so much as a word out. Cheeks warming, you noise around the intrusion and turn a plaintive look up at him even as you shyly clean the tip of his finger with soft little kitten licks. That seems to please him a great deal, his grin returning at full force in just a matter of seconds.

“Yummy?” He prompts, withdrawing his finger.

“Yummy …” you agree as your hand comes up to timidly touch at your mouth. “It’s really good, actually. Thank you.”

“No problem. You know I’m always looking out for you!”

Mouth tugging into a smile, you watch as Ace leans back with his hands braced on the cot, face tilted up at the ceiling. He seemed so content and happy just to share his space with you, lightly humming a faint tune under his breath while he kicks his feet back and forth over the edge of the bed. In so many ways, he reminded you of a little boy when he was like this. Carefree and easy. Untroubled. It wasn’t a side of him that many got to see and, feeling quite fortunate, you start to reach for the cake.

“Here, you have some too.”

“Mmmm. No thanks. I’m good.”

Blinking, you curiously glance over at him. “Oh? You liked it the last time, though.”

“Yeah, but … I’m not really in the mood for dessert right now.” Neck turning, Ace drops his cheek to his shoulder and casually sends a meaningful glance down the length of your body to settle on the spot between your thighs. A sharp thrill immediately races through you, face warming alarmingly quick. He laughs at your reaction, all good natured humor and charming as he starts to tip his head back again. “I’m just teasing ya’, don’t worry. I wouldn’t want to - -“

“I don’t mind.”

His laughter abruptly cuts off with a sputter. “What?”

Face growing even hotter, you nervously shuffle your feet against the floor. “I said I don’t mind. If you really want to, that is. It’s okay if you were just joking - -“

Ace jumps up from the cot so fast you’d think he accidentally set it on fire if you didn’t know any better.

Eyes widening, you let him snatch the cake box from your slack hands and watch as he urgently sets it aside with quick, jerky motions. His expression is suddenly dark when he leans down to hook broad, calloused hands under your knees and pull up, flipping you onto your back.

“Ah - Ace!”

“Were you serious just now?” He asks, not stopping long enough to hear the answer before sinking down to the floor and sending you a hopeful puppy dog look from where he was now knelt between your legs.

“Y - yes,” you tell him truthfully. “I was. But you don’t have to though, I just - -“

He abruptly drops his face into the meat of your thighs, startling a squawk out of you. Embarrassed, your grasping fingers shoot down to tangle in his wavy hair as he inhales a deep, stuttering breath that makes his shoulders rise dramatically like some sort of hunching beast.

“God, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this.” He practically growls against you.

“You should have said something then …”

Ace’s only response is a low, rumbling groan to accompany the tight squeeze of his fingers on your hips. You tense and shudder for him as he drags those big hands of his further down to take hold of your thighs and ease them apart. The breath catches in your throat when he promptly nuzzles into you, rubbing his face against your tingling cunt as if he were a cat marking its territory. You struggle not to screw your eyes shut at the sensation of him so intimately close to your core, smelling you and basking in the warmth bleeding through your clothes, but you force yourself to keep watching.

To bear witness to the way he presses in so tight his nose wrinkles up, brows furrowed in unconcealed pleasure. To see how the wavy strands of his hair rest along the curve of your thighs and then cling to the fabric of your skirt when he impatiently shoves it up out of his way. To appreciatively drink in the sight of him, all dark eyed and freckled, staring hungrily at the pudgy seam that runs down the center of your panties just as a starving man might look at a bountiful harvest.

He was easily the most beautiful man you’d ever seen and, based on the way he was looking at you, that feeling was apparently mutual.

“You’re sure?” It’s a soft question, but it rings loud in the quiet cabin.

“I … I’m positive, Ace. You don’t need to hesitate.”

Loudly exhaling the breath he’d been holding, he snags his fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugs. Your throat constricts as you twist on top of the bed, helping him work the cotton down over your legs. He tosses them without a second thought as soon as they’re loose, quickly diving back in to shove his face into your bare pussy, making you jolt.

You have to bite down on your lower lip to keep quiet when you spread your legs further apart for him, delighting in the way he eagerly nuzzles against you without another thought to the matter. His lips purse against your slit and he kisses you, just as passionately as he does your mouth when no one’s looking. A whimper promptly claws up the back of your throat, high strung and needy, and Ace responds in kind with a rumbling sigh of his own.

Blunt fingers knead into the doughy soft flesh of your thighs as he tilts his head so he can better work your labia apart. You shiver at the sensation of warm spit gathering along the crease of your body, slowly dribbling down your skin and mixing with sticky slick to leave you feeling obscenely damp. The realization that he was excitedly drooling all over your pussy, panting and faintly moaning into you as if you two had been at this for hours, has your toes curling in premature ecstasy.

His rough lips were the perfect contrast on your delicate folds, sending intense shockwaves of friction through you that felt like something akin to fireworks. You heave, spine arching off the bed when Ace finally dips the plushy swell of his tongue inside to truly taste you and tease at your clit. Fingers scrabbling across his broad shoulders, you latch onto him with your nails, fighting to keep yourself grounded rather than let the heat of the moment swallow you up.

It was the middle of the day on a heavily manned ship, after all, and there was no lock on the cabin door. If someone came calling on him for one reason or another they probably wouldn’t hesitate to barge in unannounced. This was Ace you were talking about here. He wasn’t someone that often concerned himself with pleasant niceties such as knocking so why would they show him that courtesy?

It would be over in an instant and you’d both be caught red handed, no questions asked. Word of this incident would spread fast, no doubt, depending on who found the two of you like this, but everyone on board will have certainly heard about it by sundown. You just couldn’t afford to get carried away right now, for your sake as much as his - but it was so hard not to cry out in pleasure when he was languidly dragging his tongue up and down the length of your slit to gather all the accumulated fluid and swallow it down in one big gulp.

Seething, you finally give in to the urge and squeeze your eyes shut as your head tips back against the haphazardly strewn sheets, the smell of him swarming your senses all over again. “Ace … please …!”

“Mmmm, yes, baby,” he murmurs against you, muffled by the meat of your cunt. “Say it again. For me?”

“Ah! A - Ace! Please … pleeeaaase!”

It’s hard to keep your voice down but, somehow, you manage to hush your desperate pleas to a mere whisper, strained and cracking. He responds in kind, moaning softly as he nuzzles deeper, making your pliant pussy lips mold against his face. Hooded obsidian eyes rove up to regard you as he does it, watching your expression twist in pleasure with nothing short of a fierce, almost predatory interest reflecting in his dark irises.

Ace was hungry for you in a way you never would have anticipated, his lips and his tongue voraciously laving you in warm, wet attention, quickly winding the spring inside you tighter and tighter. Your sensitive cunt was already throbbing for him, threatening to burst at a moment's notice if he wasn’t careful. You could hardly breathe through it, so heavy and gratifying, as his insatiable, relentless mouthing continued to work you over until you were half delirious with it.

Despite wanting to savor this, you knew, instinctively, that you weren’t going to last much longer.

“Ace … I - I’m gonna’ …”

The sound he makes in response is very nearly a snarl, bordering on animalistic and feral. His fingers come up to press into your labia and spread them, finally - finally! Exposing your clit fully to his mouth. You suck in a haggard gasp of air and try to brace for it, but still jolt as if you’d been electrocuted when he drags the flat of his tongue over that pulsating little bud tucked away inside silken folds. Your vision whites out for a split second, entirely overwhelmed, nails clawing at his shoulder blades with an almost savage sort of desperation. A scream rises in the back of your throat, choking you when you refuse to give it voice.

Embarrassingly, all it takes is three quick swipes of his tongue to send you into a fit of convulsions, fresh tears instantly welling up in your eyes. This time, however, they track freely down the sides of your face while you struggle to keep yourself in check even as you twist and writhe underneath him, mewling as quietly as you can. You sound like something broken, an injured calf in its death throes, and Ace the ravenous wolf drinking your lifeblood as if it were sacrament.

He doesn’t let up for what feels like a small eternity, persistently lapping at your sensitized clit until you finally issue a wounded, half stifled shriek that seems to echo against the cabin walls. Coming up off you with a wet, wheezing gasp, he watches the way you slap a hand to your mouth and quake through the lingering tremors of your orgasm from under the fall of messy, sweat slicked bangs. So obviously entranced by the sight of you even as his bare chest contracts with quick, heavy breaths that give away the true extent of his tense arousal.

“You look so good like this ..” he murmurs, comfortingly dragging his hands across your trembling thighs as you start to ease down from your high. “Coming apart just for me. How’d I ever get so lucky, huh?”

Whimpering, you reach for him with shaking fingers and Ace attentively obliges, climbing up onto the cot and settling over you with his knees bracketing your hips. He swoops down to catch your mouth with his, and you moan at the taste of yourself as you languorously stretch out beneath him. The buzz of your afterglow was potently intoxicating, making your head spin long after the pulses had finally stopped, leaving you warm and comfortable. Satiated.

Sighing pleasantly into the kiss, you card your hand through his hair, working out a few errant knots here or there before tilting your head back to look up at him. “I think I’m the lucky one, actually … I’ve never felt so good in all my life, Ace.”

He chuckles when he leans down to adoringly press his forehead to yours, eyes locking from just a scant few inches away. “Guess we’re both lucky then, baby girl. I couldn’t ask for anything else, you know that?”

“That makes me happy,” you warble, feeling like you could just burst all over again.

“Me too.” Sighing contentedly, Ace snuggles somehow even closer to you and tries to get comfortable, but the prodding weight pressed into your thigh seems to give him a bit of trouble. He shifts awkwardly, looking for a position that will ease the strain on his cock, but it doesn’t appear as though one is very forthcoming in his current predicament.

You hesitate to do it but, quickly making up your mind, you reach down and shyly grasp at him through his pants. It’s his turn to jolt as if he’d just been shocked, and his attention whips around to practically gape at you. It probably would’ve been rather funny, the flabbergasted look on his face, if only your pussy wasn’t still soaking wet and silently begging to be stretched.

“I want to.” You tell him quietly.

Ace visibly gulps, swallowing his nerves. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I know for a fact that there isn’t a single soul in this world I would rather have. Please …?”

Luckily, you don’t have to ask him twice.

#portgas d. ace #ace x reader #one piece #self insert bullshit #my writing

125 notes · View notes

toh-writings · 3 years

Text

Fortunes of Love Pt 5 (Eda x OC)

Summary: Niliana has a long night ahead of her.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5

It was late into the night and the house had gone dark, the only light coming from the orbs floating around the ceiling in the living room. Luz and King had gone to bed hours ago after saying their goodnights. They had wondered if they could give Eda a hug goodnight but a warning growl kept them away, at least for now. Nily had no doubt they would attempt it again in the future.

Despite the late hour, Niliana couldn’t go to sleep. Not that she didn’t want to. Her eyes stung from exhaustion, lids drooping often, and she felt like she could drop off at any time. But she couldn’t sleep thanks to the giant owl monster in the house.

At the very least, she wasn’t screeching at everything. If she made any sound it was a soft chirp or coo, which meant she wouldn’t wake the other two up. Unfortunately, she grew bored of playing with the little bubbles of light and instead turned her attention to the only other thing of interest in the room, Niliana.

She had tried working on her stuffed animal at first and for a little bit Eda just stared from across the room, still hesitant to approach the witch. Still, when she was attempting to grab more fabric from her box the owl beast was suddenly approaching her, scooting over a bit before pausing to gauge her reaction then scooting over a bit more until she was by the witch’s side. Nily froze, only watching as Eda sniffed at the sewing box, chirping curiously.

Then she tried to eat the box.

Nily moved the box away before she could, giving a gentle but firm, “no”. Eda blinked at her owlishly, then looked back to the box with a grumbling sort of sound before trying to eat it again. Nily moved it out of the way again with a sigh, putting all her supplies away and vanishing the box with a flick of her wrist. Eda stared at where the box had been for a moment before looking back to Nily, head tilted to the side and a little whine escaping her throat.

“Sorry, hun.” Nily said, giving the beast a comforting smile. “You can’t eat my box.”

Eda whined again, ears drooping. She just looked so sad Nily couldn’t help but chuckle at her. Eda’s ears perked up at the sound.

“I guess I should find some blankets and stuff, huh?”

Eda didn’t reply, just kept on staring. Nily sighed, hefting herself to her feet and stretching. Her body made a few odd pops as she stretched, making Nily groan. Man, she was feeling old today.

She decided to search for bedding in the downstairs hallway, creating an orb of light to see what she was doing. She went through a few different doors, mostly closets and what looked like a workshop, before finding the right closet. The shelves were filled with various moth-eaten blankets, most looking quite run down. She let out an irritated little huff, pushed up her sleeves, and got to work sorting through all the worn fabric. As she worked she could hear Eda shifting about in the other room, grumbling and chirping to herself. The thudding footsteps soon found their way into the hallway she was in and she could feel her hot breath on her neck.

Finally, she found a few blankets that weren’t too terrible and even a pillow. She dragged them off the shelves, doing her best to try and keep the others in place. It wasn’t like the closet was tidy to begin with, but she preferred not to move a whole lot, especially since it wasn’t her house.

She turned around, coming face to face with Eda. She didn’t jump purely because she already knew the beast was there, but her heart still skipped a beat at just how close she was.

“Hello dear.” Nily found herself saying, even though she was sure Eda wasn’t quite able to understand her. Of course, now she had the issue of getting past the giant creature so she could put her find on the couch. She would probably be sleeping there for the next couple of nights. She tried shooing her away but she didn’t budge, just blinked at her. So, she tried to shove past her as gracefully as possible. Technically, it did work as far as she got past Eda, but she came out the other side with her hair messed, well, more than usual at least, and covered in stray feathers. It was only then that Eda turned around to continue following the witch.

Nily dropped her load onto the couch, desperately attempting to comb her hair with her fingers and get it back into the resemblance of tidy. It was rather difficult, considering all the kinks and knots that had accumulated over the day.

Eda started pacing from one end of the room to the other, occasionally glancing over to the witch on the other side of the room, occasionally glancing at the shiny orbs, and occasionally glancing at her feet as she walked. Her wings stretched as far as they could go, nowhere near their full length, before falling back to her side with a rustle of feathers. Nily watched her curiously as she laid the blankets and pillow out.

Niliana sat down on her makeshift bed, just hoping it would be enough to let her sleep for a few hours or so. She laid down with a sigh, dragging the blankets over herself and shifting to face the back of the couch. She yawned, long and wide, and tried to go to sleep.

And Eda kept pacing and ruffling her feathers and making an odd noise here and there. At first, Nily felt that she could ignore it. But then time passed and the pacing never did stop and it became far more distracting the harder Nily tried to ignore it. She gave up when the pacing stopped and she felt herself being nudged by a large hand. She sighed. It was his fault, really. She shouldn’t have expected to get sleep sharing the room with a giant nocturnal monster.

She rolled over, glaring up at the creature who loomed over her. Eda made a sort of cooing sound, nudging her again. She sighed.

“Alright, alright, I’m getting up.”

So she did, debating what she was supposed to do now. Eda was rather fidgety, that much was clear. Perhaps she needed to go out for a while, get some energy out. But it wasn’t like she could just go running off into the night! Anything could happen! She could attack someone wandering in the dark, Nily could lose sight of her and she’d never return, she could get caught or killed, really, the possibilities were endless.

But then again, staring at the poor creature as she continued her fidgeting about, it would be cruel to force her to stay in the house. So, she thought it over a bit more before giving a nod. Yes, that was an idea.

She drew a circle in the air and for a moment it sat there, shimmering. Eda glared at it, giving a little hiss, but then cocking her head to the side in confusion when the ring of light vanished and it appeared that nothing had happened. It took her a moment to notice the color around her neck, glowing faintly in the dark. She growled at it, tried prying it off with her claws but it was firmly in place.

She was distracted when Niliana got up, stretching and heading for the door. She grabbed her staff from where it had been resting against the wall and looked back.

“Come on, dear.” she said, opening the front door.

“What exactly are you doing?” The door spoke in the most irritating voice Niliana could have possibly imagined. She looked on the other side, where Hooty appeared to be attempting to glare at her. “You told me to keep Eda in the house.”

“And now we’re going for a walk. Unless, of course, you want her destroying the house.”

“Mmmmmmmmmmmm, okay!” He all but shouted. Nily looked back into the house, smiling at the owl beast who just kept staring.

“Come.” She said, beckoning to Eda. She crowed from inside, shifting from one foot to the other. Then, ever so slowly, she approached the door herself, sniffing at the night air, so much fresher than inside. She gave a screech of delight, hopping outside and running in a big circle. She was finally able to stretch out, her wings extending to their full height and her claws digging into the soft earth. She gave a few powerful flaps, sending the leaves around her flying in the draft. Black eyes turned back to the witch who was walking towards her.

“Go on.” Nily motioned towards the woods. “Run off. I’ll keep an eye on things.”

She didn’t need any encouragement, of course. She had taken off before the witch had finished speaking.

Nily followed on her staff or at least did her best to follow.

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

In the morning, Luz didn’t run down the stairs like she usually did. She had enough self-control to be a bit quieter, just in case Eda was sleeping. Sure enough, when she peeked into the living room she could see the owl beast fast asleep, curled up in the middle of the room. She smiled, eyes shimmering with delight.

“So cuuuuute!” She whisper-screamed. For a moment she wondered if she could get away with booping her nose or petting her. Instead, she went to the kitchen for breakfast.

Niliana leaning back against the counter, her head in her hands. She looked up when Luz walked in, managing a faint smile. Even the oblivious teenage girl could see she was tired. It was in the way she held herself and the circles under her eyes.

“Hey, hun.”

“Hi, Nily!” Luz chirped, just as bright and happy as ever. “Do you want me to make breakfast?”

The witch debated it for a moment, a hand coming up to rub her hands. Ultimately, she decided she was too exhausted to make anything properly.

“Alright, if you want. Let me know if you need my help.”

“Okay!”

Luz wasn’t the best cook, but there were a few things she was pretty good at. One of those things just happened to be pancakes and luckily they had everything she needed to whip some up for everyone.

She was just starting to mix everything together, Nily keeping an eye on her, when the two witches heard a squeak from the living room. A moment later King appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking like he was trying to hide how shaken he was. Luz had a smirk on her face, trying not to giggle as the little demon went and sat at the table.

“Hey, King.”

“Yeah? What do you want?”

“What, uh … What was that sound we heard?”

King huffed and crossed his arms.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really? You sure about that?”

King gave a decisive nod.

“Cause it sounded to me like you squeaked. Like a little squeaky toy!” Luz's voice got louder as she tried harder to not just outright laugh at him.

“I am not a squeaky toy! I just … I forgot about Eda for a moment and was maybe caught a little off guard.” He finally admitted.

Luz finally laughed, almost spilling some of the batter. Nily just smiled a tired smile.

During breakfast, Luz informed everyone that she was going out with her friends today. They were going to practice some of their magic in the woods. Nily nodded and accepted it. She let them know she was going to take a nap before going out herself. She needed to grab some of her things and maybe check out a book or two on beastkeeping. King volunteered to keep an eye on Eda while everyone was out. Nily was hesitant to leave him alone with the owl beast but eventually gave in. She was probably going to be sleeping the whole time anyway and it wouldn’t take her long to get her things.

So, they all left to do their own things. Nily yawned as she settled on the couch, dragging the worn blankets over her shoulders. Nearby, Eda slept fitfully after a long night of running and flying about. The witch fell asleep quickly to the sound of her grumbling snores.

#the owl house reader insert #the owl house #the owl house oc #toh #eda #edalyn #edalyn clawthorne #clawthorne #eda x oc #eda x reader #edalyn clawthorne x oc #edalyn clawthorne x reader #toh eda #toh edalyn #toh edalyn clawthorne #the owl house eda #the owl house edalyn clawthorne #the owl house edalyn #toh oc

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ahatintimepieces · 3 years

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The Soul-Eater’s Sorrow

I was rereading @fedoraspooky‘s and @lovelycoris‘s weresnoodle rp to de-stress and then got story idea and I had to pen it to paper immediately so here we are! This takes place before Lukas has met Hattie and about a month after his first transformation, so he’s still getting the hang of his curse (4,767 words). Please enjoy!

Lukas stumbled towards the tree with unwieldy roots, exhausted after a particularly rough night and long morning of sequestering himself as deep into the woods as he dared. When he hurried to correct his footing, his bag jerked painfully against one of the gashes on his chest. He hissed, accidentally biting down onto his tongue with his fangs and once more the taste of iron pooled in his mouth. Trembling, he spat out the glob of blood and wiped at his lips with the back of his hand.

The guard’s anguished howl when Lukas’ jaws had clamped around his shoulder echoed in his mind. Lukas’ grip around his bag tightened.

No.

His chest, littered with wounds from the guard’s frantic silver blade during the fight from the night before, stung but not as much as the guilt when he recalled the man’s expression contorted by terror and how even the man’s mustache had trembled.

No, please. Stop thinking about it.

The guard’s partner had come running to his aid, yelling as she banged her sword against her shield to scare the serpentine shadow away. He recalled her words with crystal clarity despite not having been all there in his beast form.

“Get away you—!”

“Monster,” Lukas whispered out loud, his breath brushing against his fingertips.

The hushed forest didn’t respond to his despondent sigh. Instead, he dropped his bag off of his aching back and slid down against the tree. Leaning his head against one of the raised roots, he stared up at the sunlight trailing through the leaves.

He couldn’t stop playing the night over in his head. It had been a whole moon cycle since he first transformed and fled a frozen Subcon. But having sensed the new moon would have him at his worst again like that terrible night, he had done his best to remain far from the nearest town. He recalled how he had even caught a deer quite quickly after sunset and had a soul to soothe and ease his hunger.

But he still went towards the town.

Groaning, Lukas cupped his head in his hands. His long, disheveled hair fell around his features like a curtain and he curled his legs to his chest.

He remembered an orange glow from the lamps at the town’s gate. His beast form had been drawn to them. Did he think they were souls? No, he distinctly remembered the difference between a soul and a lamp. But both did feel warm…

Scratching a bit around the itching scabs, he tried to remain calm. He still had the later half of the afternoon, judging from the sun, and he had found a secluded spot far away from any people. This time he was sure of it.

The guard would be okay. While Lukas knew he left him with terrible wounds, the guard had access to help and medicine and would ultimately be alright. He was deep in the woods and there would be a sliver of moonlight. Not much, and he would still be dangerous, but he had to cling to anything that might help abate the curse a bit.

His arms trembled as he slowly unfurled. They, too, were covered in scratches from the guard’s sword but weren’t as bad as the ones on his chest. Coupled with the fatigue from not sleeping at all the past couple days, the painful transformations, and the lingering, gnawing anxiety of carrying a dormant beast inside of him that reared its ugly head every night, he was exhausted. Maybe that was good. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could sleep through the whole night. He had managed to ignore soul cravings closer to the full moon. Sure, he felt a little sick in the morning but…

A shudder ran down his spine as he thought about what it meant to eat souls. It felt worse than if he was just eating the meat of an animal. It was like he was devouring its feelings, its memories, and every part of it that knew love and sorrow.

And when he did, oh, the bliss. It didn’t taste like anything, but it felt like everything. The warmth from swallowing a soul felt like the hope that hitched in his chest when he looked at the moon as a human. The warmth he felt when Vanessa smiled at him and held him when her powers weren’t fluctuating. The warmth that kindled in his core when he remembered his mother’s gentle lullabies and how kindly she cupped his hand in hers when she led him through the castle. The warmth of his father’s laugh. The warmth of his brother’s doting whenever Lukas took a spill when they were children. Souls filled him with that kind of lightness, but each animal’s soul he had consumed burned with flickers of their own joys that flittered just outside of his understanding.

What kind of wretched creature needed to feed off others’ precious feelings to survive? The kind of wretched creature he had become. Apparently.

Lukas shook his head, gaze tracing the lines in his palms. He still wasn’t sure how this all happened, but he could still try to fix it. While eating souls soothed his beast form, he would just have to try and do without. Clenching his fist, he solidified his determination. He wouldn’t eat a soul that night. He would hold himself back. He would be under control. He would prove he was more than just a…

Just a monster.

Lukas pulled himself forward, his back and chest protesting. Reddish-brown curls momentarily blinded him, and he tucked unruly locks back as he reached into his bag. If he was going to try to avoid hunting that night, he would need to fill up. He had found a handful of berries and acorns. A meal fit for a bird but not a human. Or soul-eating monster for the matter. But it would have to do!

Trying to taper his large appetite by eating slowly, he grunted as he pushed to a stand. He had passed a river as he fled civilization and thought now would be a good moment to refill his canteen and see if he could scavenge for more food.

At the river, he drank his fill and even found another berry bush. His stomach grumbled over the lack of protein, but he tried to savor the sweetness of the berries. While he snacked and gazed at the gurgling water surging over polished rocks, he tried to sort through his plans.

Because he had no lead on what kind of curse had been put on him and where it came from, as he traveled from town to town, he had been checking scarcely filled libraries and even chanced a few conversations with merchants or travelers, asking about their journeys and trying to get a sense of what manner of creatures and curses they might have encountered. Unfortunately, the longer Lukas lived with the curse, the more tattered and tired he appeared, making it harder to earn trust from anyone.

Still, he clapped some leaves and stems from his hands, he had to persevere. He had to break this curse and return to Vanessa. He hoped… he hoped she was okay. He hoped she was somehow not alone. Certainly, she was doing alright! He just had to remain positive.

Splashing some water on his face, he shook his head and tried to wake up. He had to wait out the rest of the day and would sleep through the night. He could not harm a single soul. He could control himself. Once he accomplished that, he could make his way to the next town and search its archives for anything that might help. He wished he could have safely entered the community his beast form had found, and maybe find out how the guard was faring, but since he had terrorized them and they might be especially wary of strangers with such a creature around, he figured it was best for him to move on.

He returned to his bag and dropped down, pulling out a book to keep his mind alert and centered. But he paused. The patch of grass nestled between tree roots was currently bathed in golden sun. His eyelids grew heavy and his sore muscles relaxed in the toasty spotlight. Just for a moment, he chanced closing his eyes as he leaned back, hand on the book cover. He drifted into a much-needed nap.

Lukas snapped awake when the all too familiar feeling of swallowing something hot seared his insides.

“No, no, no!” he gasped, flying forward as he glanced down in the dark.

Shadowy patches of fur had already sprouted on his hands and his fingers were in the process of combining. He fumbled to untie his cloak, refusing to tear it to shreds as the seams of his shirt popped with his bones.

“Don’t eat,” he whispered frantically as he dropped onto changing knees. “Don’t eat. Don’t eat. Just sleep. Sleep—ah!” He cried out as his fangs thrust forward, pushing against and out of his upper lip. His claws clenched around soil and the sound of splitting fabric tore through his mental checklist he was desperate to commit to memory.

Sleep. Don’t eat. Just sleep.

His vision blurred and he felt his body lengthen and muscles stretch as a tail pushed out. His bones bent and realigned, lurching into a larger, ghastly shape. Lukas’ jaw cracked open and from it came an inhuman scream that howled through the trees. A flock of birds fled nearby treetops and Lukas panted, clenching claws into the ground while golden drool dripped from the edges of his mouth. A similar substance oozed from the re-opened cuts on his chest.

Night fully encased the forest and the beast’s golden eyes shone brighter than the barest shaving of moonlight and pinpricks of stars. Breathing heavily, the creature thrashed his tail with agitation as he glanced around, searching for a meal.

A white light, glowing like the gentle reflection of the moon on rippling water, hovered in the distance, beyond a grouping of trees. The creature’s eyes narrowed into slits. Flames licked the corners of his maw. Hunger gnawed at his insides and urged him to feast on the warm soul that would pacify his deep ache. He stilled, crouching into a position to get ready to lunge, but then fragments returned to his thoughts.

Don’t eat. The feelings behind the thought ached with a despair deeper than the pain gnawing his insides. The creature let out a confused growl, keeping his gaze locked onto the soul. He pawed at the ground, wanting to give chase but the feelings twisting his stomach were enough to give him pause. Pacing by the tree, the creature lifted a paw towards the soul, but the frantic thought shifted into a ghastly echo.

Monster!

The creature whined, shrinking back as he ached and hungered and hurt. His spiky mane flattened and the twisting feelings inside him urged him to turn around and try to sleep through the pain. He conceded. Curling up on a bed of grass and torn clothes, he laid down and gnawed on the tip of his tail. The chewing motion helped to dispel some of his anxious energy as he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

Though ignoring his insatiable hunger long enough to fall asleep was tricky, once the creature drifted, he was exhausted enough to sleep through the rest of the night. His claws clenched and he occasionally growled, dreaming of chasing something he wouldn’t remember when he woke up.

Finally, dawn peeked through the treetops and the creature stiffened. With a high-pitched groan, the beast gripped the ground as his body reverted back into human. Painful pops resounded from his bones and his tail withdrew.

While shadowy fluff melted back into skin and Lukas’ auburn locks draped across his naked back, he tried to crack open his eyelids, but the soft sunlight stung his slowly adjusting eyes. He croaked, turning his face into the dirt and pressing his forehead against the ground to ease the pressure building in his throbbing temples.

Everything hurt. Not in the way it usually did after a night adjacent to the new moon but in a way that left him feeling like his limbs were securely trapped underneath an Alpine goat. He needed to get up, to try and put on some clothes. But when he so much as pushed his quivering hands beneath his chest and tried to push himself up, a wave of dizziness and nausea crashed into him and he dropped back down, groaning.

Why did he feel like this? He thought back to the night before. The soul he had seen and his hunger returned with clarity. But then, so too, did he recall his hesitation to pursue the animal. A swell of relief pushed through the torrent of unpleasant symptoms he was experiencing.

He did it! He had been able to control the beast a little!

The euphoria was short lived as pain pulsed through his head and he grunted, lifting his arms over himself as he tried to block out the sunlight and press back the ache. Maybe… maybe he would just rest a little longer…

Too many wasted hours later, Lukas had managed to dress himself in his spare clothes. He was able to fight past the headache to have the foresight to salvage the larger pieces of his ruined outfit from the night before. His legs felt like jelly beneath him and while moving too fast caused his stomach to flip, he heaved his bag over his shoulder and pushed on. Carding his fingers through his knotted hair, he blinked at the sunlight pooling in through the leaves and tried to focus on his objectives.

Find town. Find books. Break the curse.

Usually he would have ‘find breakfast’ somewhere in there, and while he certainly was aware of how empty his stomach was, his hunger was buried underneath how sick he felt.

Ambling aimlessly, he soon found the path and an apple orchard across from the forest. His stomach twisted, begging for food, as he stared at bright, red apples glinting in the sunlight. Salivating at the thought of sinking his teeth into a sweet, plump looking apple, he quickly swallowed.

No. No. The curse had made him many things, but he wouldn’t stoop to thievery. He still had a little bit of coin he could use in town. Turning onto the path, he felt something dribble down his chin. He brushed the back of his hand across his lip and found he had started to drool. Sighing, he glanced towards the apples, which taunted him as they perched just beyond a fence.

A small part of him still hesitated, wanting to at the very least find the owner of the grove and pay for a meal. His stomach growled (or, wait, was it his stomach that had growled?) and he took a step forward.

The hunger-induced stupor he had been in dissipated as soon as he chomped into an apple. He hadn’t realized he had hopped the fence or plucked an apple from the branch but now that the fresh juice revitalized his tastebuds, he dug in unabashedly.

It was only after he practically inhaled the fruit that he realized he was surrounded by other apples stripped to the core. His heart leapt to his throat as he examined the suddenly barer looking apple tree.

Did—Did he eat all of those without realizing?

Dropping the apple core dripping in his hand, he eyed the scene of his crime and lamented that even if he did find the owner and try to pay for the pilfered meal, he probably couldn’t afford it. What was worse was he was still hungry…

Grimacing as he reached for one more apple, he heard footsteps and quickly pressed his back flush with the tree bark.

“Muriel!” A feminine voice called from deeper in the grove. “Young lady, you better not be in the forest!”

Forest? Lukas’ gaze shifted as he scanned the uncultivated trees he had just come from.

The woman yelling for Muriel crossed towards the opposite side of the grove and Lukas exhaled. Carefully holding the apple between his teeth, he clumsily hopped back over the fence and dropped onto the path. He felt a bit more coherent now that he had eaten and while he could have kept going into town, the idea of a child wandering alone in the woods didn’t sit well with him. He promised himself it would just be a quick look around.

When he spotted a small footprint in a patch of soil, he decided he would be dedicating far more time to looking for the young girl. Finishing his apple, he discarded the core and followed the direction of the footprint.

In a turn of events, she found him when he reached the winding tree he had camped at the night before.

“Ha!” A small blur of red plunged out of the treetops and landed in front of him, waving a stick.

“Goodness!” Lukas jumped back. Still not feeling one hundred percent from skipping out on a soul, his dizziness combined with his trembling legs tripped him up enough that he fell back with an “oof.”

“Oh.” The girl wrinkled her nose. “Who are you?”

“Lukas,” he wheezed. Catching his breath and knowing he wasn’t ready to try and stand again, he opted to just straighten his sore back as he held the girl’s gaze. “Are you, by any chance, Muriel?”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Maybe. Why?”

“I believe your mother is searching for you.” Sensing her distrust, he summoned a gentle smile to try and ease her concerns. He knew he probably looked terrible despite his efforts. “Would you like me to accompany you back to the orchard?”

“I don’t need help!” Muriel turned on her heels, crossing over to the tree and jumping up onto the roots.

“I’m sure you don’t.” Lukas pushed himself up, stretching out his back and exhaling as it popped, “But your mother was worried—”

“I don’t care!” she snapped. “I’m busy!”

Lukas tilted his head, watching as she started to climb the tree.

“Busy doing what? If you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’m going to avenge the person who got mauled here!” she declared, scowling as she glanced down.

“Mauled?” He paled, thinking back. He hadn’t—Surely, he would remember—He couldn’t have in his beast form; he had slept the whole night! “What makes you think—”

“I found shredded clothes with blood on them.” Muriel lifted one of the remains of his shirt, a casualty of his transformation.

He sighed, wholeheartedly relieved.

“Oh no.” His mind whirled to come up with an explanation. “My deepest apologies for frightening you, but I camped out here last night and I suppose I accidentally left behind some… old… cloth I used for bandages.” He tried to conceal his wince at how poor an excuse he offered. Though he was still struggling with a headache and fatigue.

“You used a shirt?” Muriel catapulted from the tree and landed solidly in front of him. He jumped, reaching out on instinct in case she needed help, but she righted herself, brushing twigs from her scarlet tunic before crossing her arms. She crinkled her nose. “Are you homeless? And not the traveling-merchant-homeless but the pathetic kind?”

“Pa-pathetic?” Lukas bristled before slouching under her stare. “Well,” he admitted, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck, “there’s no shame in being a wandering vagabond, but I’ll be the first to concede there are others who undoubtedly function better than I.”

Muriel’s lips quirked into a mischievous smile.

“You looked like a wild animal eating our apples.”

Lukas stiffened, his cheeks burning brighter than his newly awakened fire magic.

“Apologies. I don’t—I don’t know what, erm, came over me,” he stammered, already embarrassed by his ravenous appetite even without anyone watching him.

“If you camped out here, didn’t you hear that howl?” Muriel’s brows narrowed.

He froze, thoughts careening as he remembered the pain.

“I—well—yes, I did, but—”

“You weren’t scared?” Muriel’s eyes widened.

“A little.” He slowly exhaled, trying to calm his nerves. Offering a nervous smile, he added, “but I survived.”

“Wow,” Muriel gave him an impressed look. “Then you can help me!” She motioned for him to follow.

“With what, exactly?” He remained in his spot. A quick glance towards the sky told him the afternoon sun was slowly creeping. He wondered if he could even make into town at this point.

“Hunting the serpent shadow!”

He paled.

“Muriel—”

“Call me Mu!”

“Mu, then,” he implored, “It’s much too dangerous to try to hunt the beast and your mother is worried.”

She paused, looking over her shoulder with a scowl.

“You don’t have the equipment,” he continued, fiddling with his bag strap. “And I certainly don’t have anything to subdue the creature…” He intended to keep listing reasons for why it was a bad idea to chase after the beast without giving away he was the beast, but his growling stomach interrupted him.

“You’re still hungry?” Mu blinked incredulously.

He winced, tightening his fingers around the strap.

“You are pretty scrawny,” Mu huffed, turning around and shifting her stick to her other hand. Before Lukas could protest, she took his hand and tugged him back towards the orchard. “I guess you can’t go monster hunting on an empty stomach, but I don’t know how your stomach can be empty after eating nearly a whole tree’s worth of apples.”

“Ah, I-I suppose you’re right,” Lukas said faintly, letting her guide him back.

He inwardly sighed as he realized he hadn’t gotten any closer to figuring out how to break his curse. It was due in no small part to how ill he felt going without a soul, losing a whole morning as consequence. And, if Mu had heard him last night, even from the orchard, he was still far too close to others. What precious hours of daylight he had left would need to be used for putting distance between him and everyone.

If he was still this famished, he couldn’t imagine what the night would be like.

Soon enough, he and Mu reached the orchard again and there they found her mother, getting ready to head into the forest.

“Muriel!” Her mother dropped her bag before running up to Mu and enveloping her in a hug.

Lukas smiled, releasing Mu’s hand and stepping back on the path.

“Mom, stop!” Mu grumbled, pushing her away before pointing at Lukas. “I got lost and he helped me find my way back. We should feed him.”

“Ah, it was nothing so serious.” Lukas flushed. He saw what Mu was doing, but he really hadn’t done anything to help her and he really needed to be going. The way that her mother was eying him with suspicion also made him a bit nervous.

It wasn’t like he had looked at himself in the mirror lately, but if his appearance was anywhere near as terrible as he felt, he imagined he looked frightfully haggard.

“I actually need to be heading on my way,” he offered, wringing his hands a bit as he backed up on the path.

“What?” Mu pouted. “But we need to hunt the serpent shadow tonight!”

“Muriel!” Her mother frowned, protectively pulling her back with an exasperated sigh. “A witch hunter has already made it to town. Let them take care of it.”

While Lukas’ eyes widened, processing what that all entailed and how he needed to get as far away as possible for everyone’s safety and his, Mu’s mother turned to him with a defeated look.

“But it is dangerous out there.” Her features creased like she was trying not to grimace at Lukas’ appearance. “It would be cruel to make you fend for yourself while there’s a terrible monster out there.”

“I really must get going,” Lukas said, summoning a charming smile. “I appreciate the concern, but I’ll be alright.”

“If you don’t believe a beast is out there, it tried to torment the townspeople, and nearly killed my brother.” Her features darkened.

“Wh-what?” Lukas paled, digging his nails into his hands.

“Uncle’s captain of the guard at the town over!” Mu cut in. Her voice grew bitter as she explained, “the serpent shadow attacked just the other night, but it couldn’t have gotten too far! That’s why I was looking for it! I won’t let it hurt anyone else.”

“I-I’m so sorry,” Lukas breathed out, shoulders slumping. Guilt weighed him down as he remembered quite clearly the guard’s agonized screams and the taste of blood. Lukas’ features crumbled as he held the woman’s gaze. “Truly, I’m so sorry. Is your brother—” Okay? Healing? Not completely traumatized at the very least?

“The doctor says he’ll heal. Luckily, the gash isn’t infected, but,” the woman scowled, “I hope the witch hunter skins that monster before anyone else gets hurt or worst.”

Lukas swallowed thickly, only able to nod.

“Would you like to spend the night?” The woman softened. “I’d hate for you to get caught by the monster or wind up in a battle between it and the witch hunter.”

“I’ll probably find shelter in the town,” Lukas lied. “But thank you for your generosity.”

Mu tugged on her mom’s sleeve and she bent down, listening as Mu whispered in her ear.

“I suppose that would be alright.” Her mom ruffled her hair and Mu beamed before dashing off into the orchard, towards a house that could be glimpsed between the trees. “So, where exactly are you from?”

While Lukas numbly recited his cover story about coming from a town near Subcon and inwardly grimaced when the woman recalled hearing something about a terrible tragedy befalling Subcon Village. He hurried to change the subject, inquiring about the orchard as he tried to appear at ease while the sun moved through the sky, his back ached from standing still with his bag, and guilt chewed his insides. Finally, Mu returned with a cloth bag filled with jars of pale amber-colored apple jam and fresh bread. The jars had mustaches painted onto them.

“Here you go!” Mu shoved the bag into him, and he fumbled to grasp it, eyes wide at the heft.

“I couldn’t possibly accept this.” He gave them both a wide-eyed look while biting the inside of his cheek. His fang pressed painfully into it.

“You brought my mischief-maker back. It’s the least I can do.” The woman shrugged before bending down and scooping up Mu. Mu squealed as her mom tickled her sides and that only encouraged her mom to blow an affectionate raspberry near her cheek. Giggling, Mu swatted her mom away, though she seemed comfortable in her mother’s embrace.

“Thank you,” Lukas whispered, knowing he didn’t deserve it, especially after what he had done… But the bread did smell tantalizing and the idea of eating jam with it was too rare a treat to pass up. He hugged the bag to his chest, still itching with scabs, and dipped his head. “I better be going, but I really do appreciate this, and I hope your brother recovers swiftly.”

Please let him recover swiftly.

“You better get into town.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Before the beast tries anything again.”

“You can come back tomorrow and help me with chores!” Mu called as Lukas started down the path, waving.

“If I’m able,” Lukas returned noncommittally. “Please take care.”

Please forgive me.

Mu and her mother waved as he left, heading down the path until he was out of sight and then immediately changing direction. After tucking the bread and jam into his own bag, he groaned lightly as he heaved the more cumbersome weight over his shoulders. The jam jars clinked lightly, and he ran a hand through his tangled hair.

He needed to run. If the witch hunter had plans to search the forest, it would not be safe in the slightest, and after how awful he felt from not hunting for a soul, he didn’t think he could keep his beast form from feeding that night and he did not want to chance being too close to others in that state.

He couldn’t hurt anyone again.

Lukas pushed on, weaving through the forest, crossing the river, and hiking ever deeper into isolation. He would ensure that he wouldn’t hurt anyone again.

#a hat in time #fedoraspooky #lovelycoris #weresnoodle au #ahit weresnoodle au #ahit prince #ahit mustache girl #my writing #blood #painful transformation #i love..... the weresnoodle..... very much.......#also the guard is one hundred percent the mafia boss i thought it'd be funny #also right now Mu and Lukas are best friends in her mind but if she finds out about his curse #the friendship meter will crash down into the negatives like in the video game that's the vibe im going for #i got nothing else but Y'ALL SHOULD CHECK OUT THE RP IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY \O/#seriously it's so good and cheers my heart so often and is one of my favorite ways to unwind #just so much love..... for this au ;~; <3333333333333333

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