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imagining-in-the-margins · 3 years

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The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 3)

Summary: Reader earns her nickname, and Spencer sinks to a new level of sin. A/N: Here, take your first dose of smut 💊 ✨ Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Drinking, alcohol, masturbation (male) Word Count: 5.3k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

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If I had to pick my favorite thing about working for Spencer Reid, it would probably be something that most people wouldn’t expect. Sure, it was nice to be able to work with a human encyclopedia, and he was definitely very nice to look at, but neither of those things contributed to my love for my job.

It was the sense of belonging. An overwhelming feeling of serenity that existed, flowing freely beneath the surface like a network of roots twined together. I never felt out of place when I was with Spencer — which couldn’t be said for basically any other time. Especially not now.

Halloween is one of my favorite holidays because it’s just absurd. You harass your neighbors while dressed in a costume and they reward you with something sweet (or, in some cases, change). As I’ve grown older, not much has changed aside from the creativity and length of the costumes.

... and the sweet treats being replaced by the bitter sting of alcohol.

“You do realize that guy was hitting on you in there, right?” my friend shouted from less than a foot to my right.

“He was just being nice.”

“Yeah... in a bar,” another girl chimed in, “On Halloween.”

I tried to remember the face of the man they were talking about, but my memory of his eyes blended into the flashing lights of the club. Even if I wasn’t drunk, I knew it would have been hard to remember him. Because the truth was that he wasn’t the person I wanted to see when I closed my eyes.

“Leave her alone. She’s trying to stay pure for her professor,” my friend snickered.

Despite the treachery, I still caught her before she almost pushed us both straight off the curb in her drunken state. But it wasn’t her opinion I was worried about, because at that point, I was certain she would remember none of it by the time class rolled around come Monday. It was our other acquaintance that I responded to, with a very squeaky and unreliable, “I am not doing that!”

“Yeah, what she wants isn’t pure at all,” the mess on my shoulder droned. That was enough of a reason for me to drop her, although it really resulted in both of us barely staying on our feet on the somewhat crowded sidewalk.

“Stop! It’s not like that!”

“Sure it’s not.”

Then, something else caught her attention. Knowing her, I figured that it was either a man in a scandalous costume, or it was a two for one drink deal plastered in front of a bar. I assumed it was the latter, because as soon as she finished talking, she grabbed hold of our hands and yanked us against the brick wall of the next bar.

“So you wouldn’t mind if, theoretically, Professor Reid saw you in your costume?” she asked.

I like to think that I am a relatively smart girl. After all, I had made my way to graduate school, and Spencer seemed to think that I wasn’t a complete hopeless idiot. But in that moment, I couldn’t understand why on earth she would ever think to ask me that.

Running my hands over the fuzzy pink bodysuit I was wearing, I tried to picture his reaction. As soon as I tried to look down, however, the two floppy bunny ears affixed to the hood dropped over my eyes.

“I-I mean, I guess not…?” I mumbled, my face growing hot from something other than the alcohol, “I’m wearing it in public, so...”

But then she said it — the most terrifying two words I’d ever heard in my life.

“Okay – good.”

My eyes shot up immediately, trying to follow her eyes through the crowd of drunk, costumed people. By the time that I spotted him, somewhat thankfully dressed in normal clothes, I was powerless to stop it.

“Dr. Reid!” My friend’s voice rang out into the night, “Dr. Reid, come over here!”

The moment our eyes met, I knew I was fucked. Totally, completely, and utterly fucked. A clever little grin filled his cheeks as he quickly spotted me trying to hide under my hood.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” I shrieked, but he was already on his way over.

“You said you didn’t mind!”

In a panicked whisper, I bit back, “I didn’t say call him over here!”

When he grew closer, though, I corrected myself. Because it was not just Spencer who was walking over. There was someone else with him. Another man, just as tall and just as beautiful as Spencer, but with a dark complexion and an even more wicked smile.

As for my company, they had already scattered into the bar behind me, leaving me with a wordless, dumbstruck look on my face that was very poorly hidden behind bunny ears.

“H-hey Prof— Dr. Reid,” I managed to get out.

“Hey,” he answered in a tone I’d never heard before. A slightly guarded, very entertained but mostly awkward stretch of the vowel.

The man beside him, however, was quick to question.

“Who’s this?”

As I said before, I like to consider myself a relatively bright person. But the alcohol that night had been both free and strong. So, when I was asked by a handsome man who I was on the Devil’s night, I answered honestly.

“I’m a bunny!” I cried, bringing my hands together over my chest and turning to present the small pink pompom affixed to my lower back.

“I can see that,” the stranger replied through a genuine chuckle. But while the action was amusing to at least two of us in the conversation, Spencer looked mortified. It wasn’t necessarily negative, though.

I couldn’t be sure, of course, considering that I had already consumed more liquor that night than I had in the past month, but something told me that Spencer was less humiliated by me, and more worried about how blatant his response to my answer was. Because when he spoke, he did so through a smile.

“She’s uh... my teaching assistant.”

“Teaching assistant, huh?” his friend repeated, clearly amused.

There was almost a challenge to the title. Something about the way he said it setting my heart into overdrive. Unable to control my own treacherous tongue, I continued to dig myself a wonderfully sized hole to jump in to.

“I’m also very good at hopping,” I said.

Once again, the better company of the two laughed. Spencer, however, covered his smile with a hand that brought attention to just how red his face had grown over the course of a few seconds. I was so distracted by it, lost in the way I could still see upturned lips just from his eye shape alone, that I failed to acknowledge the other man for a suspicious length of time.

“Well hey, don’t let me get in the way of you two catching up. Reid, I’ll go tell the hostess we’re here, so the others know where to go.”

With a firm pat on the shoulder, the man almost turned to walk away. But before he could, I drew him back again.

“Ooh, is there a party?”

Spencer, finally able to speak again, rushed his reply.

“No, it’s nothing.”

It was obviously not nothing, though. Judging by the toothy grin that his friend flashed, it was a very big not-nothing.

“Did he not tell you?” he asked with an incredulous, mischievous tone, “It’s his birthday.”

And it was, by far, the most insulting, scandalous news I’d heard that night. Enough to elicit a sharp gasp and hand reaching out to grab his wrist in a way I knew I shouldn’t have.

“You didn’t tell me it’s your birthday!”

My mind was racing, kicking myself for having not figured it out sooner. I was trying to recall the monthly staff newsletter, but then quickly remembered that I usually relied on Spencer to summarize them for me.

“It’s not my birthday,” he explained with a sigh, “It was a few days ago.”

His friend seemed pleased by my response, although he clearly saw it dwindling. My heels had already dropped back down with my hands that fell away, signaling a very different emotion than the excitement from seconds prior.

“We’re meeting up with some people for drinks and dinner. You want to come?” he asked, trying to convince me before it was too late.

But the moment had passed, replaced by loud, insecure ranting that insisted that Spencer wouldn’t have avoided telling me his birthday unless he didn’t want me to know. That meant he either didn’t enjoy making a fuss out of his birthday, or he didn’t want me to, specifically.

“Uhh...”

“Don’t answer that,” Spencer cut in, swiftly raising a hand to dismiss the other man whose name I finally learned. “Thanks Derek, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Suit yourself,” he mumbled back. But Derek, in all of his disappointment, didn’t fail to draw out one more flustered laugh from the two of us who remained as he gave a tiny half-wave and sang, “Goodbye, Bunny.”

Spencer’s neck craned back, never once leaving his friend until he had safely entered the restaurant. Once he was sure that he was safe from ridicule, or at least observation, his entire demeanor changed.

“I’m sorry about that,” he offered, but I couldn’t accept. If anyone had been a bother here, it was me (and my friends).

“No, I’m sorry I bothered you!” I rushed.

The silence stretched between us, an unsettling reminder that we rarely interacted outside of work. That he’d never known me to party, and I’d never thought of him doing something as routine and normal as celebrating a birthday. It shouldn’t have been strange, but it was.

Perhaps that feeling was what drove me to continue, proudly stating, “I promise that I will have all your work ready first thing in the morning.”

It wasn’t until Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed and his mouth opened in a strange, lopsided grin that I’d realized I made a mistake.

“Um...” he spoke through laughter, “Tomorrow is Saturday.”

“I’m very motivated?”

Thankfully, he saw the humiliation and was happy to offer me a graceful escape from my humiliation. “How about I give you until Tuesday, instead?”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best, huh?”

I gladly took it, staring down at my heels as I tried to find anything else to focus on. Anything that wasn’t his eyes that seemed even more powerful after dark. But true to the magnetism I always experienced in his vicinity, I was drawn back into golden irises full of an emotion that made my heart beat twice as hard.

“Where did your friends go?” he asked. I didn’t trust myself to answer, so I just threw my thumb over my shoulder and towards the bar behind me. I didn’t turn away from him then, too scared to acknowledge that I would be leaving him soon. That we would go our separate ways again and I would have to wait until Tuesday to drown in the honey of his eyes again.

Sure enough, Spencer gave a solemn nod and cleared his throat before mumbling, “Right. You should probably go find them, so they don’t get worried.”

But I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay with him, the rest of the world be damned. I wanted to feel his eyes on me longer, especially when they started to wander my figure that I’d secretly hoped he would see.

I could pretend to hate my friend for calling him over all I wanted, but when I slipped into the costume hours earlier, I’d wondered what he would do if he saw me like this. And now that the answer was in front of me, torn between the exposed skin of my thighs and chest, I wanted to experience it for as long as possible.

With my fingers on the zipper to try and calm my heart, the inebriation manifested in soft giggles as I replied, “I think I’m pretty safe with you, Professor.”

Spencer didn’t need to vocalize his disagreement. I saw his contention in the form of wayward eyes falling to my hands that fiddled with the tiny piece of plastic keeping me covered. When they trailed back up the zipper teeth to meet my eyes again, they were filled with a hunger that took my breath away.

Unfortunately for us, though, our smitten haze wasn’t shared by anyone else in the vicinity. Especially not the drunk pack of men who passed, completely unaware of the amount of space they took up on the sidewalk. I don’t even remember one of them running into me, but I definitely remembered what followed in extreme, vivid detail.

Spencer caught me, quickly and more gracefully than I thought him capable of moving. His arms were locked around me, not only preventing me from face planting on the concrete but causing me to press my face directly against him.

Before he had a chance to say or do much of anything else, I placed my hands on his chest and tore myself away from the warmth of his embrace. Because I was already drunk enough on the alcohol — I didn’t need to be any more inebriated from him.

“S-See? You caught me!” I squeaked.

I didn’t miss the fact his hands stayed on my waist even with the added distance, his fingers subtly digging into and stroking the plush fabric. I didn’t try to stop them, either.

“Are you going to be okay? Should I take you home?”

I knew it wasn’t how he’d meant it, but my inner voice still pleaded, Yes, God, please, yes! My outer voice, however, clung to reason and respectability.

“No! Don’t miss your birthday dinner!” I insisted, but he didn’t look convinced. “I’m fine, seriously. I just suck at walking in heels.”

Any part of me that would have normally been offended by his insistence that I couldn’t handle myself while drinking was quelled by my desire to keep his hands on me as long as possible. Although there was enough space for my arms between our chests, I swore I felt his fluttering heartbeat against my fingers. I thought of hummingbirds.

Resigned to my stubbornness, Spencer took a moment longer to stroke patterns through the pink fabric wrapped around my waist before he sighed, “If you say so.”

“I do!” I giggled, leaning closer like I might convince him not to leave at all, “So you better listen up, mister Professor man.”

The look he gave me was sweet, honeyed bliss. But even that seemed minuscule in comparison to the way his hands slid over my sides, making their way over my shoulders and gently brushing the errant bunny ears back out of my face. He left them there, too, with a barely-there caress of my face.

“You look cute,” he said, like it wouldn’t break my heart.

Shier than he’d ever seen me before, I somehow managed to still look him in the eye as I answered, “So do you.”

It was a good thing I’d been paying attention, too. If I hadn’t been staring into his eyes, I would have missed the flash of chaotic playfulness that appeared just as he glanced down at the space between our chests.

I wouldn’t have been prepared at all when he dropped one of his hands from my face to the zipper of my costume. Not to say that anything could have prepared me for the way it felt to have his knuckle brush against the skin just below the lace bralette that had been meant to protect my modesty.

Before I could even comprehend the delicious friction of our skin, it was gone. Spencer pulled the zipper up to my chin, releasing the plastic in favor of grabbing hold of my chin once more.

“Be careful with that zipper,” he instructed, “I don’t need you getting hypothermia this early in the semester.”

Unsure of how else to respond, my body responded on instinct as it stammered, “I-I promise.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again, and my autopilot continued.

“Double promise. Promise squared.”

“Okay. You have my number so... call me if you need anything.”

I absently nodded, but Spencer accurately concluded that I hadn’t actually processed what he’d said. When he let go of me, he took the time to smooth out the bunched up fabric over my shoulders. I tried to convince myself that he was just interested in the soft fluff, but it was hard to ignore the hunger that’d only grown stronger. The darkness that rivaled the moonless hallow’s eve.

“I don’t mind giving you a ride home if it means you get back safe,” he said with a deathly seriousness strongly contrasted by the flippancy that followed. “Otherwise I’ll have more work for Tuesday.”

I was grateful for the shift, because it made the loss of his hands hurt less. My chest filled with laughter that quickly burst from me with frantic, messy words.

“Of course! The work. For Tuesday. Okay! Thank you!”

“For what?” he also said through laughter.

“I— don’t know.”

Spencer turned away from me, looking behind him at the obligations that would tear us apart. I wondered if he, too, was busy contemplating how well it suited just how different we were. How two establishments side by side could house such different things. How we were frequenting opposite ends of the spectrum.

Whatever he was thinking about, however, it didn’t break his spirits too badly. Because before he sent me on my merry way, he flashed me the goofiest little bouncing peace sign before he sang, “Hop along, little bunny.”

So I did, turning back to my life and letting him return to his. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes following me until the darkness of the bar swallowed the space between us.

Still, I didn’t need him to be there to remember how it felt for his hands to roam my body like familiar territory. I saw that look in his eyes every time that I closed my own and remembered how it made my legs shake like weak stems bending to the wind.

I decided then that it wasn’t the worst thing in the world that he’d seen me in my costume. In fact, I think he quite liked it.

——————————————————

There are few things more relentless than Derek Morgan. Death and taxes, perhaps. When it came to mocking me, there wasn’t a single missed opportunity. Even at the darkest hour, I trusted him to be consistent and predictable.

That was precisely why it made no sense that I had made it through an entire dinner and drinks outing with the team without him mentioning what had happened. Not even once. I almost let myself be relieved. Perhaps time spent with a child that can talk back did him some good, I thought. But when the time finally came for us to take our leave, I realized my mistake. He wasn’t holding back out of the kindness of his heart.

No, Derek wanted to wait until there was no escape route. He wanted to have me trapped in a car hurtling down a highway before he spoke the words that he’d been waiting to say all night.

“So... Bunny.”

“Her name is (y/n),” I quickly corrected. Unfortunately, Derek wasn’t in a merciful mood. Although there was a notable smirk on his face, his next words were uttered with a hefty dose of skepticism. A warning that it was a subject that ought to be approached with a critical sincerity.

“Her name is Trouble. That’s what her name is,” he said, shaking his head.

“She’s just my teaching assistant,” I said like I might actually convince myself, though we both knew that I wasn’t going to convince him. “It’s fine.”

“Is that what they’re calling it nowadays?”

But that time, it was me who issued the warning.

“Stop,” I ordered, meeting his eyes to find him hiding his genuine concern under jokes that weren’t really jokes at all. “I respect her. She’s very bright and she earned her position.”

“I never said she didn’t. I know she’s probably smart, but I also saw the way you looked at her.”

The words felt like a blow to the stomach — yet another reminder that my affections for her were so thinly veiled they might as well be scrawled across my skin. He didn’t need to be a profiler to notice that I was fond of the girl, but it certainly made it worse.

Because he knew that I was lying when I muttered, “You don’t need to worry about it.”

He knew that I was lying, but he still asked, “Why’s that?”

“She’s...” I started, pausing while the word tried to form on my tongue. The word that had haunted me ever since those damned girls mentioned it. That short, simple little noun that had taken a cursory affection and turned it into full blown lust.

“She’s a virgin.”

Derek’s brows jumped up his face, his jaw dropping the same way mine had when I first heard the news. Then, just as I had, he put the pieces together and realized that it should have been a foregone conclusion.

“Trouble with a capital everything,” he half laughed.

But this wasn’t a joking matter, and I really wished that I could make him believe that. That definitely wouldn’t happen, though. Not when he looked up to see me hiding behind my hands, sinking into my seat like it would get me out of the conversation.

“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s obviously waiting.”

It was the wrong thing to say. I should have seen his response coming from a mile away. But I didn’t, and so I was forced to listen to his childish giggles that were followed with an even more lighthearted crooning.

“Yeah, waiting for the right professor to come teach her the lesson on the birds and the bees.”

“Cut it out.”

Without even looking, he astutely observed, “Kid, you’re blushing.”

“Yeah, because you’re talking about me fuc–”

The word never made it out, getting caught between my teeth as I bit down on my tongue damn near hard enough to make it bleed. I wished it would. I wanted the iron to drown me and rid me of the sinful things it sought to do, instead. Opting for a more… distinguished explanation, I eventually stammered the rest of the thought.

“You’re talking about me... deflowering my significantly younger employee!”

“You can say fuck, Reid,” he deadpanned, “I think you’re old enough now.”

“I don’t want to. It sounds too... crude.”

I didn’t expect him to understand. How could he? He’d only seen her when she was at her most provocative… by far. Part of me envied him, to be able to sequester her innocence and view her as just another girl.

But she wasn’t like anyone else. She was an untouched bloom, a magnolia of unearthly shades. A beautiful blossom that had broken through the concrete walls I’d maintained for so many years. A tantalizing taste of the life outside that I refused to let in.

A fucking tease.

“Too crude for little miss innocent bunny?” Derek cooed, and it was so uncomfortably close to my thoughts that I couldn’t help the way I snapped back.

“Are you done?”

As we pulled into my parking lot, Derek just waved off my hostility, recognizing it as nothing but misfired shame and anguish at the thing I wanted being out of my reach.

“Yeah, I’m done. I hope you had fun, even with the teasing.”

I chose not to dignify the second half of the statement, climbing out of the car like I couldn’t step away from the conversation fast enough. But of course, I knew that only made my guilt more apparent. My culpability was clear and conclusive. There was no argument to be made.

“You know I’m right!” he shouted just before the door shut. A final reminder, one last cautionary call for the beast inside of me to keep itself hidden lest I allow myself to sink my teeth into something pure.

“Goodnight!”

Few things changed when I reached the confines of my apartment walls. Fantasies had only devolved into a vividness that was borderline frightening. How easily I could get lost in visions of her, only promising my return in exchange for my imagination agreeing to become a reality that I would get a chance to experience.

But that wasn’t fair to her. She was just a girl doing her job with an astounding amount of patience and understanding for her hopeless romantic of a boss. For a moment, the guilt became so overwhelming that I let it win. I managed to swallow my newly acquired memories well enough to navigate my nightly routine without wishing she was there every step of the way.

Wishing that she would call me. That she would grant me the excuse to return to her, to touch her as freely as I had earlier. I imagined a world where, upon arriving to her destination, she invited me in.

As I collapsed on my bed, I wondered if she would have preferred the privacy of my home. A place far enough away from other students and academics to finally see me as something more than a superior. Something attainable in a way she never seemed to be.

Just as I closed my eyes to give in to the dreams, my phone buzzed. The sound set off every nerve in my body, all of them very poorly coordinating to allow me to grab the device and turn it on to reveal her name.

“Hey Professor! I just wanted to let you know that I got home…”

I’d never opened a notification so quickly, but I should have waited. I should have paused and taken the time to notice that what I was opening wasn’t just a collection of letters and symbols.

It was a set of pictures.

Pictures of her.

“Safe and sound and zippered up. No hypothermia for this bunny tonight,” she tagged onto the end, “Sweet dreams!”

How could I ever dream of anything but her? How was I meant to turn off my phone now, knowing that she was there; her drunken, lustful stare on display? I only tore my eyes away from her face long enough to notice her surroundings. I took extensive, painstaking notes on the color of the sheets on her bed and the way the zipper I’d tugged at to control myself from taking her had fallen away again.

I could feel the softness of her skin against my knuckle again. I heard the way her breath nearly broke at the force with which she sucked in air at the feeling of me touching her. How hard she pressed herself against me, how her back arched when I held her and how she never even tried to stop my hands from finding new places to rest.

They worked diligently now, too, trying to keep her awake and with me for as long as I could, but also wanting to free myself of obligations so that she wouldn’t notice how long I’d stared at the pictures she’d sent.

“Goodnight, little bunny,” I sent before adding, “I’ll be counting rabbits instead of sheep tonight.”

As if to reward my efforts, another picture flooded my screen. Her face was scrunched up in an adorable innocence, half covered with her hand but still effortlessly beautiful.

I stopped myself from responding again. I forced myself to stop, to prevent treacherous hands from calling her and begging her to let me come to her. It wasn’t fair — it was manipulative, downright evil, even — to take advantage of her inebriated state to hoard any insight she might provide.

But she’d already sent these… So, would it be so wrong to indulge in her? By touching my own body to the thought of her, would I taint her? Did I care even if it did? Maybe it was for the best to plant the seed of impurity now, to strip her of her power over me.

But deep down, I knew that I would still want her. I would still wish that the hand that sneaked beneath the sheets belonged to her. I could almost feel it as my hand traversed familiar territory. It would be new for her, and it would be new for me to feel the delicate, unmarred skin of her palm slowly sliding down my stomach. Her fingers bashfully brushing through soft curls at the base of me, still too nervous to hold me the way I needed her to.

Her face would be buried in my shoulder, with dew from her breath wetting my neck and raising the hairs on my arms. I would take her hand in mine and guide her to wrap her trembling hand around my cock.

Just like I was doing to myself now, with my other hand still holding the phone displaying the image of innocence. My hand wasn’t as soft or inexperienced as hers would be, but as long as my eyes stayed on her half-lidded gaze staring back at me, I could pretend.

I could hear her panting my name— my real name, Spencer— in my ear, praising the feel of silky skin beneath her fingertips. She would whisper about how she wanted to feel it elsewhere, too. She would beg for me to replace a hand for her most precious place.

That damned angelic girl showing her hand on the zipper would beg me to steal away her innocence. She would unveil herself slowly, knowing that I needed the time to memorize every inch of her skin as it was seen by another for the first time. Seen by me, and only me. The vision would be for my consumption and indulgence.

I wanted it. I wanted her.

My stomach tensed as I pictured the girl staring back at me straddling my hips. I stroked myself harder, faster, letting my thumb trace down her body on my screen.

If I stole it from her, would it be mine?

Would she be trapped as I was, only able to feel anything when I was with her? Would she dream of me? Would she cherish each and every memory of my touch and play it back in her mind? When she felt the urge to break and burn, would she picture my hands lighting the match?

If I ruined her, would she be mine?

I pictured the girl on the screen with tears in her eyes, her mouth stuck open in a silent scream and her hands clutching desperately to mine. I imagined how tightly her body would grip me as I fucked her. How hard it would fight the intrusion of my sinful touch. How I would hold her down despite the resistance until she gave in to me. Until I broke her, thoroughly and irreparably.

She would be mine.

That was the thought that took me over the edge, all energy that was not delegated to my hand feverishly stroking my cock remained with my other hand to hold her picture in front of me. It never even wavered, never once shaking and risking losing any clarity. Even my eyes refused to close all the way.

She would be mine.

The warm, sticky mess of my desire coated my hand and stomach, but all I could think was how it would feel to mark her as mine. To feel the excess drip back down my cock as she collapsed against my body. To know that she would never be the same, never be wholly herself again. That she’d let me inside of her soul and that when I left, I hadn’t left empty handed.

She was already mine.

——————————————————

| Part Four |

1K notes · View notes

tteokggukk · 3 years

Text

amortentia → kth

–pairing: gryffindor!taehyung x gryffindor!reader

–genre: hogwarts au, enemies to lovers, fluff

–words: 3.7k

–warnings: none, except a teeny tiny dirty joke in the end (?), oh and this was unedited sorry i’m in class, also i mention cedric so just pretend he’s alive ok

–summary: you’re surprised to smell the scent of the boy you constantly don’t get along with coming from the famous, but most dangerous, love potion in the world.

–a/n: uh so i’ve been obsessing over harry potter again for the past month askdlaksdj anyways here’s a short drabble i thought of when i got sidetracked planning my next smau wahoo oh yeah this was also inspired by that one scene where they sniff the potion lol

permanent taglist: @100percent-dum-dum @mochisjoon @boraength @rageyoudamnednerd

You hurriedly walked into your Potions class with your books clutched to your chest.

Potions has always been your favorite class and no doubt were you skilled at it. Your friends often had to ask for your help when it came to brewing, and an added plus was that you often gained house points for your flawless work. The class was normally held by Snape, who greatly terrified and intimidated a lot of students, but there were certain changes made this year that resulted in a different professor teaching the class.

Students were evidently happy about the sudden change of professors. Walking into Potions back then would instantly result in a quiet room and anxious-looking faces with no one daring to speak. It was a bit strange now, albeit refreshing, to hear the buzz of students chatting and actually smiling in the room while waiting for the class to begin.

Professor Slughorn stood at the center of the room in front of a long table where several cauldrons were spread out, emanating a variety of colored fumes and causing a mixture of different smells to fill the room.

The combination of different smells was something you were already used to—normally they were undistinguishable and almost smelled like something close to nothing, but today there was one scent that stood out, one that was strangely captivating.

Fighting to keep your mind from falling into a trance, you could feel yourself being pulled by the scent. Never before have you sniffed something so alluring, so entrancing— so dizzying, it almost smelled like—

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a group of students laughing and rushing into the room, causing you to snap out of it. Your head immediately turns to find the source.

There Taehyung stood with his friends who were all fixing their robes as if they just ran a hundred miles to get to the room. They were only standing but they all looked so bright, even you couldn’t deny they were attractive. Though you got on with his friends well, Taehyung just seemed to love annoying you every minute of the day. He especially loved teasing you through uncalled for flirting and a plethora of dirty jokes—and though you could easily retaliate, it was amusing to see you try and hide how flustered you’d get because of it. Because of this, all your interactions resulted in numerous banters, inevitably making it official that you two would never get along peacefully without one riling up the other (which was mostly you).

He found it amusing, whereas you found it annoying.

You glared at him, watching as he ran his hand through his hair while sending a sheepish smile over to your professor.

“Sorry we’re late professor, almost forgot our books,” Taehyung smiled, holding up his copy of Advanced-Potion Making.

Professor Slughorn simply smiled and waved for them to hurry, “No problem, m’boy! Good to see you, good to see you—now, gather ‘round everyone!”

As if he could’ve gotten away with that if Snape were around, you thought and rolled your eyes. You could almost hear Snape from a distance with his low voice muttering a “Ten points from Gryffindor.”

Taehyung catches your eyes rolling as students began to huddle around the different cauldrons. As you and your friends made your way towards one of the potions on the table, you fail to notice Taehyung excusing himself from his friends and moving past other students to walk over to where you were, a smirk forming on his lips.

The seductive scent your mind was previously clouded with has suddenly gotten stronger, and it wasn’t long before you were able to distinguish one of them: a scented candle that had an oddly specific scent of blackcurrant berries and roses. Your brows knit in confusion at the familiar scent of combined fire and fragrance as you whip your head around to look for the person you knew often smelled like this.

Sure enough, he was right there standing behind you. Did he burn all of his candles? Why does he smell so strongly today? Taehyung places his hands on your shoulders, steadying you from looking around too much. He bends his head low and moves close to your ear.

“Saw you rolling your eyes there, y/l/n,” He whispers, trying to look discreet. The scent engulfs you even more—probably because his hair seems to absorb it all, and though you’re not exactly repulsed by it (you were pulled, even, though you’d never admit that), you try to act nauseated. “Darling, do I bother your thoughts that much?” He teases.

“Psh, please, Kim. You wish I was thinking of you,” You faked a gag. “And move—” You push his hands off your shoulders and wave your hand around your face as if to waft away something pungent, “I don’t know why but this room seems to smell an awful lot like you. It’s suffocating.”

Taehyung raises a brow, and looks at you with a confused look before talking in a not-so-discreet and surprised tone, “Me? You know, I was actually gonna say the same about you. It smells like your shampoo in here.”

“My shampoo? You’re literally right behind me!” You retorted through gritted teeth.

“No, I know! But like, it’s everywhe—“

“Now then,” Slughorn’s voice was much louder now, cutting Taehyung off, “Can anyone tell me what this potion is? Maybe Mr. Kim?” He asks, pointing to one of the cauldrons on his right. He definitely heard Taehyung talking.

Taehyung moves closer so he was standing next to you now. He stares into the cauldron, finding a colorless and odorless potion, but Taehyung only looks at him in confusion.

“Sir, is this Veritaserum?” Taehyung asks, his eyes narrowing in thought, “I don’t think it’s supposed to smell like anything, but I can’t really tell cause it smells like y/l/n in here—“

“Oh dear, my bad, sorry!” With a knowing smile, Slughorn covers one cauldron and suddenly the room stopped smelling like Taehyung. Taehyung seemed to be thinking the same thing because he looked back at you with a blank look on his face before turning back to the cauldron.

“It’s Veritaserum,” He concludes, “It’s a colorless and odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth.” “Very good!” Slughorn praises him, “Now, can anyone tell me what this is?” Slughorn continues to ask students around to identify what kind of potion has been brewed along with its function. You raise your arm up every time and Taehyung laughs at how eager you look every moment that you do, earning him a death glare each time. Slughorn doesn’t call you once, but he finally does in the end.

“Now, Miss y/l/n. I know you know all the potions well, so would you do the honor of telling us what this one is?” Slughorn reopens the cauldron he had previously shut when Taehyung was identifying Veritaserum, and suddenly the room smells like him again.

Why does the scent make you feel comfortable yet nervous all at once?

You move towards the brew, heart pumping a little too loudly in your chest. You had your suspicions on what that potion really was, but that couldn’t be it, right?

Taehyung probably just burned all his candles or something, that’s why his scent was so strong today.

But upon seeing the liquid in the cauldron, you could already identify what it was by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen along with the characteristic spirals rising out of it.

“Amortentia,” You spoke, trying to sound calm. Taehyung, who was also secretly good in potions, looked up in shock and moved from his position to a place where he could clearly see your face to see your reaction.

“Very good! Will you tell us more about it?” Slughorn continued.

You nod in response, “Yes, well… It’s the most powerful love potion in the world. It’s supposed to smell differently to each of according to what attracts us.” You stopped. Maybe he wasn’t going to ask you what you could smell, but before you could move back, Slughorn trailed on.

“Correct! Now, can you describe what it is that you smell?” Slughorn smiled before turning to the rest of the class, “You all will have the chance to sniff it too.”

Your eyes widen and you gulped nervously as you moved back closer to the potion. You forced a smile and nodded to your professor before leaning into the cauldron and wafting the scent towards you.

“I smell…” You stared into the liquid before recognizing several scents, “Fresh paint… scented candles…”

You could feel your heart beating out of your chest. Were you actually smelling Taehyung in amortentia? Taehyung, who would endlessly annoy the life out of you whenever he had the chance? Taehyung, who would argue with you over trivial things like food preferences? Taehyung, who recently kept “running into you” and ended up hanging out with you cause it “couldn’t be helped”? Taehyung, who would stay with you until late at night while you studied in the common room because you shouldn’t be “out there alone”?

Taehyung, who annoyed you but made you feel empty whenever he wasn’t around?

Or maybe it wasn’t actually him you were smelling. Maybe it’s just his scent that rubbed off on someone else? You couldn’t possibly be attracted to him when all you did was annoy each other and get on the other’s nerves.

But then again, you’ve never had a day where he failed to make you smile.

The final scent, proving that it really was him these scents were associated with, made you subconsciously glance over at him who was eyeing you with much curiosity. You quickly looked away and stared back at the liquid, feeling the heat spread upon your face and ears before quietly muttering, “…and strawberries.”

Your friends all stared at you in shock because even they knew the whole world associated strawberries with the one and only Kim Taehyung because it was his favorite fruit, after all. Walking back to your place, you kept a good distance from you and the cauldron to avoid being too immersed in the smell, now wanting it to be as far away as you kept mentally denying what just happened.

Taehyung stifled a laugh and tried to press his lips together to suppress himself from forming a wide grin. Slughorn, who caught onto what was happening, thanked you before calling onto Taehyung again.

“And what about you, Mr. Kim? Could you tell us what you smell in amortentia?” Slughorn motioned for him to move over. Taehyung looked nervous, he obviously wasn’t expecting himself to be called again. He gulps nervously and charmingly tries to offer someone else to sniff the potion, but Slughorn declines and tells him that he should do it.

Taehyung didn’t want to do it, but now he found himself forced to.

Now your only problem was the whole world now knew what—or rather, who attracted you. You knew Taehyung would smell someone else in that potion, it’s probably why he’s so against sniffing it right now. Like you said, all you did was annoy each other. You couldn’t expect him to like you back, could you? You could feel the embarrassment coming as Taehyung moved forward.

You kept your eyes on the floor, avoiding any form of eye contact with the boy you suddenly realized you had feelings for. Taehyung kept looking at you before focusing on the potion and leaning into the cauldron, wafting the scent towards him.

“I still smell your shampoo,” Taehyung spoke. You frown before looking up to see him looking at you. You could feel everyone’s attention transfixed on the both of you, eyes darting back and forth from you to him in amusement.

“It smells sweet, like flowers,” He continued wafting, “I also smell cinnamon… and that perfume you wear, smells like cherries and violets.”

For a second it felt like the whole world stopped, and all you could do was stare at each other with expressions of disbelief. From afar, you could’ve sworn his cheeks were turning into a darker shade of pink, but then he had to walk back to his place after Slughorn had said something you didn’t pay attention to. Everyone else raised their hands up and took turns smelling the love potion.

The rest of the class was spent awkwardly making a potion called Felix Felicis and nothing else about Amortentia. Awkward, because Taehyung was working with you on the same table as he and his friends all couldn’t fit in one. Neither of you really spoke to each other, you were mostly just avoiding his stare while he tried to ask you for help in brewing to which you gave him short and monotonous answers. In your head, you couldn’t help but think that Slughorn made a big deal with amortentia just to stir something up.

Finally, the class ended and you were done with your potion. You handed yours in and Taehyung followed, but you noticed him trying to make his way to you causing you to pick up your pace. You excused yourself from your friends because frankly, you had no idea how to face him.

Plus, what if he was joking about what he smelled? He loved making you mad for a pastime, who’s to say he wasn’t just faking all the things he said?

You shook the thought out of your head, even you knew he wouldn’t go that far. You feel a small twinge of guilt at what you just thought, silently apologizing to no one.

As you brisk walked along the corridors, you felt a hand rest on your shoulder. You looked back to see Taehyung, face looking flushed as he looked at you. You almost dropped your books but caught hold onto all of them. Taehyung notices and takes the books from your hand. You couldn’t really decline; your throat was too dry to speak.

“I—“ He starts.

Taehyung, who always has something to say, has suddenly run out of words.

“You don’t need to say anything,” You spoke, voice filled with false confidence, “They’re just scents, you know. Don’t feel obligated to act on anything.”

You have no idea where all this was coming from, but maybe it’s because you didn’t want anything to feel forced between you two. Taehyung just stares at you before clearing his throat.

“Uh, right,” He chuckles, before taking a piece of paper from his pocket and slipping it into your books.

“What—?” You try to open the book to grab the paper, but Taehyung places his hand on the cover and closes it shut.

“Don’t!” He says a little too loudly, causing a few people glance at you two, “Don’t open it now, just… open it later. When I’m not around.”

He flashes you a shy smile before turning to walk away, leaving you dumbstruck in the corridors. You watch as his figure slowly disappears into the crowd, making sure that he’s out of your sight before you open the book and pull the note out. Your heart beats wildly in your chest upon seeing what he wrote.

‘Meet me in the common room after dinner.’

You don’t see Taehyung at all while you were having dinner in the great hall. Surprisingly, you found yourself worrying at the fact that he was skipping a meal, something you never knew you’d ever worry about. The upside was that he wouldn’t hear how your friends (and some of his) mercilessly teased you about what happened earlier at Slughorn’s class, saving you from the embarrassment you would’ve only felt if he were present. With Taehyung being the massive flirt that he is who could come up with a dirty joke within a half of a second, he might’ve actually played along with all the teasing.

Once you were done eating, you excused yourself from your friends telling them that you had forgotten something up at your dorm. Your pulse was beginning to fasten at every step that took you closer and closer to the common room, unsure of why Taehyung asked you to meet.

“Password?” The portrait of the fat lady asks.

“Abstinence,” You spoke.

As you walked in, you were once again greeted by the smell of blackcurrant berries and roses—the scent of Taehyung’s favorite candles. You were also surprised to sniff a few pastries that smelled of cinnamon, and as you made your way further into the room, you later realized that there were freshly baked cinnamon rolls laid out on a platter. The smell was overwhelmingly comforting.

Unsurprisingly, no one was around yet at this hour as people often hung around in the corridors during their free time. All except for one person who was seated on one of the couches, candles spread around on one of the table he sat in front of.

“____,” He looks up once he hears your footsteps. Your heart flutters at the sound of your first name falling off his lips instead of your last. Though he’s already called you by your first name before whenever you two were alone, it was something you still hadn’t gotten used to and filled your stomach with butterflies. Taehyung stands up from the couch and walks over to face you.

“Hi,” You greeted, a little awkwardly.

“Have you—um, eaten?” He asks, scratching the back of his head. The confident, cocky, and outgoing Kim Taehyung was bumbling mess now. It was endearing to see him like this, but it also rose a small ounce of confidence in you.

“I mean you did ask to meet after dinner, so, yeah, I think I’ve eaten,” You chuckled and he jokingly rolls his eyes at you while his tongue pressed against his cheek, a sight that took every effort in your body not to melt at.

“About earlier,” he starts, his expression softening and eyes looking deeply into yours, “I really didn’t want you to find out that way.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I really was planning on telling you. I was hoping to wait until the Celestial Ball since it’s coming up, but then Potions class happened and I didn’t know I’d be up there telling everyone I could smell you in the potio—“

“You were gonna wait ‘til the Celestial Ball?” You ask, raising a brow in amusement.

“Well, yeah. I was gonna ask you sooner or later,” He blushed and nervously scratched at his temple before turning a switch and changing back into his old demeanor, folding his arms and leaning in for your faces to meet, “Can’t have you dancing with anyone else other than me, can we?”

“I was gonna ask Cedric,” You lied with a straight face, “But whatever, I guess I could go with you.”

“You what?” He scoffed in disbelief before laughing at what he just heard, “Please, no you weren’t.” You only stared at him. “Please tell me you’re kidding,” His playful expression falters, “____? Hey!” He gently shakes your shoulders, causing you to break into a fit of laughter.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Geez, Kim,” You laughed, wiping a tear away from the corner of your eye as Taehyung glared at you.

“Wow, and to think I helped with baking all these cinnamon rolls for you,” he huffs.

“How sweet of you,” You said in a sarcastic tone, though you really meant it.

“Aren’t I?” He smirks and looks over at you, “So, I’m gonna scratch out whatever you said earlier.”

“And what exactly did I say?”

“’Don’t feel obligated to act on anything’, is what you said,” He raises a brow and folds his arms, “Yeah, as if. It’s like you don’t even know me.”

“I just meant I didn’t want to fo—“ You start talking defensively, but you stop talking as soon as Taehyung cups your face with his hands.

“Well I want to act on it, and it’s my decision. I’ve been trying to give you hints these past couple of weeks, but since you never really caught on…” He chuckles, hands travelling down to your waist to pull you closer which causes your breath to hitch, “I like you, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“How could I when all we ever do is annoy the crap out of each other?” You tell him, unable to help yourself from staring at his lips which were now eye-level with yours.

“What can I say? You’re pretty hot all riled up,” Taehyung smirks and earns himself a light punch on the chest, though it made you laugh nonetheless, “I’m sorry it’s just—I can’t lie. Are you staring at my lips? Does this mean you like me back?”

“Taehyung,” You looked back at him, using his first name for the first time, “I smelled you in my amortentia. Of course I like you.”

“Right. This is why the hat never considered me for Ravenclaw,” He mutters.

Taehyung places one of his hands on your chin and looks at you for any sign of hesitance. When he sees none, he smiles and pulls you in. Before you know it, your lips were crashed into the soft, pink ones you were staring at just a while ago. Maybe this is why the hat never considered you for Ravenclaw as well, because only now did all those “hints” make sense—all those nights staying up with you, keeping you company while you studied, all those accidental “run-ins”—they were all for you.

Breathing each other in, you could’ve sworn there might’ve been some freshly brewed amortentia lying around. Your mind was clouded with thoughts of him as you felt him smiling through the kiss prompting you to do the same. His lips tasted like sugar and cinnamon, probably from taste-testing all the cinnamon rolls he’d just baked, not that you were complaining. It was wonderful.

Taehyung finally pulls away with a small tug on his lips. The sight of your warm, red-tinted cheeks while you looked up at him was the prettiest thing he had ever laid his eyes on.

“Wanna disobey the fat lady’s password?”

That earned him another light punch, but no words of denial left your mouth.

587 notes · View notes

rivendellsstuff · 3 years

Text

𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ━━━ 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈 𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍

𝐀𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 | ❝In despair, he condemns his desires. Regretted, he know the consequences would be eternal and all he wanted was you. Your fiery personality, bright lips and soft skin.❞

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2310;

Genre: friends to lovers;

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: Mentions of canon-typical violence. The first chapter is set before the events of the first season. Friends with benefits — so, it'll be eventual smut (like, a lot!)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: English isn't my natives language, so if you spot a misspelled word or anything else, feel free to let me know.

━━━━ 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

Some men's whish the glory, others crawl like snakes by power and there is those who live like rats in the system. However, there is a exception — and his names is Levi Ackerman. Emerged from the underground, by dust and blood, forged as a weapon at an early age and steeped in pride, he raised as humanity's strongest soldier. He carries a doctrine, imbedded in his bones: he serves to humanity, the balance and the freedom of mankind. If there is a threat, he is the man who can fight against it, ranging from cruel people to evil titans.

He was born in cruel times and did his best to survive in the Underground. He found a glory he wasn't looking for. Something many wish to through their lives, but which, for him, was irrelevant. They all bleed, they all are stuck on the Walls and share the same ended chapter: the death. The final outcome is not defined by possessions, achievements or privileges in life. The only difference was that could get death any easier and painless. Levi was not a hypocrite: he would rather a peaceful death, lying on his bed, instead of being eaten by a titan.

He rather — and is all what it is. It wasn't like if he had any choice. The Ackerman's family were designed to protect the people and to fight. They were cursed with a power. Some people could say it is a miracle in dark times. Others would argue that mans were corrupted, cruel and too ambitious to deal with that awakened power. Well, Levi knows, that no everyone were worthy to possess such ability — Kenny, that asshole, was one of them.

However, there was kind strange situation. An only exception, an affliction that hung over through the heart and maddened his mind: you.

Desire wasn't a word enough to define how he feels close to you, a fearless female warrior, who destroy each barrier he has built over the years, causing delirium with the thought of you hurt. Levi knew he would have taken a checkmate just by desiring you.

But when it all starts? He couldn't say with sure. Maybe, when he, Farlan and Isabel were recruited by the Survey Corps, and you were the only one who spoke to them without undriveable mock and trial. You, besides Erwin, didn't seem to care where they came from. As deeply loyal as you were to your comrades, you didn't depend on your interactions with them for take a direction — you were content to follow your own passions and desires without input from anyone else.

Maybe it started when he saw you in battle or an a argue with a member of Military Police Regiment. Fear is not in yours's vocabulary when you are on the battlefield or when you are speaking her mind to others.

As their partnership grew, he'd find some similarities between you, but also many differences.

You, just like him, has little patience for any form of prose or riddles when you are communicating with others. You speak bluntly and without pretense, and expects others to do the same, prefers to get to the point and doesn’t seek to romanticize your expectations or intentions. You also are focused on the present issues and what role you can play in protecting the people that you love, what can prevent you from seeing the future results of your present actions and, unlike him, does result in some impulsive and risky — yet brave— actions.

All these little things over the years, made him fall in love with you, and Levi had ways to say it without saying "I love you".

Like that night.

He wasn't hiding his disgust face when handed you a cup full of that steaming, black liquid; the simply smelling coffee could make your stomach turn, but still, he prepares a cup for you every night.

As the second in the command, you have spent several evenings together conducting the next advances of the squadron. So, there you are, sitting next to him, eyes focused on the paper, turning the pen between your fingers and... biting your lower lip.

Occasionally, almost instinctively Levi raises his eyes to you. Being so close of you was it's a unique feeling. The smell of your perfume as stunning, and his throat closes around the words he would like to say. The tension that has been brought in was too dangerous for someone like him.

Fucking woman, fucking lips. Fuck you!

''Is there a problem?'', you inquired making eye contact for the first time that night. He couldn't say if there was perversion when you wet your own lips, but Levi felt his muscles become tense and contracted when you made it.

Levi responded with a faint whimper before observed: ''You shouldn't be drinking so much coffee at this time. You look like shit when don't get sleep''.

Lie. Fucking hell, you're always beautiful, but no way he'd say what he thought.

You rolled your eyes. ''It's you who did'', you put forth.

''I wasn't in the mood to put up with a brat attitude from you.''

''Brat? You know that we have about the same age, don't you?'', your gaze traveled from the figure sat in front of you to the window, confused as to why you would be embarrassed about his presence. You took in a breath before adding: ''Anyway, don't want sleep.''

There was a pause for a few seconds. You and he eyed each other.

''Why?'', he asks, authoritative one.

You shrugged and shook your head firmly. ''It doesn't matter.''

''If it doesn't matter, why would I have asked that?''

"Cause you're snooper”, you smirked.

''I'm not a snooper, brat."

He felt his heart begin to quicken when you carried the pen to your lips and start biting.

"Yes, you are a horrible snooper old man, bossy and with an astonishing mania for cleanliness."

"Old? You know we have about the same age”; he repeats. His eyes drifted back to your face, noticing your gaze had shifted again to the woods beyond the window. "And you're avoiding the question", he softly says (at least as softy as he could be), interrupting your rampant thoughts. "Are you alright?"

Levi watches in silence as you'd shoulders slump.

"I can't sleep. My mind has the scary capability of being evil, although I always thought that one day it'd get better", you're voice was low and flat, quiet and a little sad as you spoke to Levi, who seemed to know what are you exactly referred to and only nodded at your words. "I feel guilty. All the time."

Even in the darkness the room held, your eyes find his greys one like the starlight's.

''Are you afraid of your dreams, too?'', you asked, never expecting the humanity strongest soldier to have any fears.

'Yes'', he said quietly.

You nodded with hesitation, his words repainting in your head as you struggled to forma a sentence to answered.

Levi was used to such sadness, he had month's — no, years — to griever over the deaths of his mother and friends. Death was not uncommon thing in his life. His childhood who should be carefree, playing in the sun, was like a living nightmare, learning to fight in the darkness of Underground. Later, when he left the place to join the Survey Corps, he accepted to live in that never ending tragedy that people had sadly grown used to. Death was more common in that job than anything else, and he knows how badly it fuck with his mind.

“I’m beginning to think we’re a lot alike… you and me. We’re both strange cast, who’ve learned to fight when we’re backed into a corner'', you began weakly.

''Well, we’re backed into a corner now. Two fucking insomniacs”, he shook his head, thinking about your words. He didn't seem to like the way your voice sounded sadder. You raised your eyes to him again as he slowly spoke: ''You're not alone''

You answered a tiny smile onto your lips. Levi felt his cheeks burn and opposite glanced to your empty coffee cup, thinking that he'll able to always tolerate your strange addiction.

A few second later you both went back to work, and Levi was left with words stuck, temptation planted in the mind and a sure thing for him: the insomniac nights would become better by you.

【 ━━ 】

Inside Wall Sheena, guests were arriving, among them five members of the Scout Regiment - consisting mostly of commanders - walked through the gates, exuding self-confidence, bitter to participate in that boring and stupid meeting.

Little lies, little social sacrifices to feed what kept the Scout Regiment going: funding.

It was not necessary to be an expert in politics to see beyond the traditional veil of those events, to perceive the intentions of certain parliamentarians, very sadistic. Knowing it was part of your job to relate to these kinds of people annoyed you.

For one minute, you saw out of the corner of your eyes, the first on your command. The man of grey eyes used a black suit that fits perfectly. Be present in an event with so many politics didn't seem to his liking. Was kind of hard for all of you play nice one with all this tension in the air.

You've never felt the feeling of fear and tension like that inside the Walls before.

''Stop frowning before you break your face''

'It would be so sad, and you would cry for being depriving of that beautiful face''

''Oh, fuck yourself'', he says, angrily.

''If you watch''

You smirched at his expression as he looks up to you, after seeing your face, he turns away.

''Watch your words, brat''

''Or what, old man? What will you do to me?''

He looks back up at you.

''I could break you habit of drinking coffee, put you to clean all the HQ or even to help Hange with the experiments. The three together seems good, by the way''

You roll your eyes.

''You're mean''

'You're annoying'', he replied. ''And you know, if you keep rolling your eyes one day their going to get stuck like that''

''Are you trying to be funny?''

His little grin showed up making you roll eyes into a smile. He was terribly bossy and annoying, but you like that about him.

You took the glass of wine to your lips and raised your eyes to hit his. Levi hovered over you, making you felt that flame into your heart once more. Your eyes tailed down to Levi's lips then back to his eyes. You could feel your heart beating recklessly.

Fucking grey eyes, fucking black suit. Fuck you!

You felt a thumb on your cheeks, making them burn.

''You look...'', he started whispered and slightly caress your cheeks. Your body started to get hot under his soft touch. ''... beautiful. You look beautiful''

You were speechless.

You liked the sudden ardor, of the dangerous attraction, of folly and frivolous with provocative sins. Liked and thought how the taste of his lips would be: the indomitable, the irresistible, the powerful and sin.

He slowly dragged his hand down to my thorax wrapping his hands around it. A soft gasp escaped of your lips.

''You know... If you want dance, it'll not rude to ask'', you try to say. ''The song is awful, but I'm not a demanding partner''

''Only if you don’t step on my foot''

His prepotency make you smile.

''Don’t be a bad partner and there will be no mistakes'', you retorted, making him raised one of the eyebrows. ''That's how a men should behave next to a woman''

He took you in his arms, abruptly, making the bodies collide with intensity. You gasped, very close to Levi's ears, who felt the hairs stand on the back of his neck. Leading you through music, in no second was the look averted, in a battle for unknown control.

You and Levi explored a unique experience.

He stares burned deep into your body. His touch on your skin made your body tingle.

Fuck, control yourself. Don't get turned on by him!

He didn't say anything, just left you hold into him. You could feel your body burning around him. What was he doing to you? It felt like a spell. The effect of sin, of desire. You should get rid of that, all you needed least were distractions in the workplace and ruin the friendship, trust and partnership that you two took so long to build.

However, both keep looking to each other longer than friends should. Longer than friends should...

He could saw you lost inside your mind. Slowly, he pulled down his fingers, lazily touching the skin of your exposed back by the dress. Levi's vision was blinded by the desire his image represented. The surroundings smelled wine and fruits, intoxicating his sense. The ears, doomed to hear the political bullshit. His tact could burn by touching you. His taste? It was dangerous, because wanted to discover the taste of your lips and body.

But not now, not here.

You are his friend — the only who was left. In despair, he condemns his desires. Regretted, he knew the consequences would be eternal and all he wanted was you. Your fiery personality, bright lips and soft skin.

To hell all of that. When you both got back, he'll fucked you, every way that he can thinking off. He wants to pound into you, slammed into you and give the best night that you ever have. He wants to kiss every inch of your skin.

''Good girl'', he whispers next to your ears. ''But I'll show you how true men should behave next to a woman when we get back''

#aot x reader #attack on titan imagine #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman imagine #levi x you #levi smut #levi ackerman series #attack on titan fanfiction

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mandoalorian · 3 years

Text

Like Father, Like Daughter [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader]

Summary: A 4 a.m. fiasco in which your newborn daughter wakes up the entire Lord homestead.

Word Count: 2800>

Rating: PG

Warnings: none! Tooth rotting fluff. Just a newborn baby that won’t settle, a big brother who wants to protect his younger sibling at all costs, and pure familial love. ALSO LADY LORD THE CAT MAKES A RETURN… She's the real trouble maker of the family.

Author’s note: This is SO self indulgent. I cannot stress that enough. I was clearing out my ask inbox and one of the most common requests I get is a) more Lord family and b) more Soft!Max... so here we are.

Masterlist

-—-—-—♡—-—-—-

No matter what, she just didn’t settle. It was three in the morning and you’d put her back down to bed only twenty minutes ago. Just as you managed to close your eyes and feel yourself begin to fall back to sleep, her cries erupted once more and echoed throughout the house. You had no idea how Maxwell could sleep through it. He was a heavy sleeper, and although he made you promise to wake him when you needed him to take over with the newborn, you couldn’t bear to. He was so busy with work and his career, the last thing he needed was to be up all night with little Aurora.

In practically every way possible, Aurora Lorenzano was like her father. It was funny, really. She was only three weeks old but you could already see the same mannerisms in her, that you did Max. She made a habit of shaking her fists or pointing her little tiny finger at you when she wanted something. She was loud, always wanting to make her voice heard. Her big brown eyes sparkled like starlight and you always wondered how you managed to create something so beautiful. She was a product of you and Maxwell and you swore that you had never loved anything as much as you loved her.

You rolled over and groaned into your pillow as you heard her scream with anguish. You were exhausted, and completely at a loss. You’d held her, fed her, changed her diaper -- what more could she want? You couldn’t remember the last time you got more than an hours worth of sleep, and even then it was broken up into intervals. You looked over at Max who was sleeping next to you, his chest rising and falling with every soft breath he took. And you envied him. This was ridiculous. Just for once you wanted to sleep. Just once.

“Max,” you said, prodding your index finger into his bicep. He didn’t move an inch. “Max,” you said again, a little louder this time, but even Aurora’s wails were overpowering the sound of your voice. You said his name a few more times but he didn’t even stir.

You sighed, climbing on top of your boyfriend and straddling his hips. You leaned over him and clasped his cheeks, squeezing them together. “Maxwell Lord!” you shouted in his face, and watched as his eyes snapped open and he bolted upright. His sudden movement knocked you backwards slightly but you couldn’t help but laugh at the way you had shocked him into waking up.

“What the hell are you doing?” He hissed, rubbing his tired eyes and shooting you a joking glare. “Why are you on top of me?” His gaze flicked from your face, down to your body, and his confused glance turning into something a little more sultry. He snaked his arms around your waist and gave your hip a playful squeeze. “You do know Aurora is crying, don’t you?” he quizzed, with an eyebrow quirked. You had to hold back from punching him.

“I know she’s crying, dumbass,” you spat back, rolling off Max and dramatically throwing the pillow over your face. “Please, please can you check on her? She’s fine. I know she’s fine. I’ve checked on her five times already tonight. But she just-- she won’t stop-- and I don’t--”

Sensing the way you were getting worked up, Max tore the pillow from your face and shushed you. He pressed a soft yet chaste kiss to your forehead. “Say no more, I’m on it.” he whispered, rolling out of bed.

You watched Max grab his robe and shuffle into his slippers as he padded out of your shared bedroom. Well, you were awake now. You sighed and closed your eyes, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you could earn a few more hours of deserved sleep.

Maxwell flicked on the amber night light in Aurora’s nursery, the dim embers burning bright enough to force Max adjust his eyesight in the darkness. “Hey hey baby girl,” he cooed, rubbing his tired eyes again and running a hand through his dark blonde hair. He peered over the side of the crib and his heart ached when he caught sight of his daughter, all snotty and teary eyed. “What are you crying for, huh? Why is my little princess crying?” he asked Aurora, using his thumb to wipe away some of her tears. She sniffled slightly, her eyes fixating on her father. “Tell daddy what’s wrong, and I promise you I’ll fix it. What do you need, hm?”

You could hear Maxwell talking to Aurora, ever so faintly. His voice always soothed you, so it wasn’t that much of a surprise to find it settling her as well. You smiled to yourself, counting your blessings. You had gotten so lucky with your little family.

Aurora made grabby fists and reached out to Maxwell, her big eyes glimmering with desire.

“Oh,” Maxwell hummed, catching her message almost immediately. He reached into the crib and picked up Aurora, nursing her in his warm arms. “You wanted to be held by daddy. Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

Aurora scowled and Max pinched her cheek. “Listen to me, my little princess. Your mommy does everything in her power to take care of you and protect you. We love you so much, but, you keep her awake all night. So let’s make a deal, okay Aurora? Let’s agree that from now on, you only wake up mommy once a night. If that. Can you do that for me?”

Aurora’s scowl deepened and she furrowed her eyebrows together.

“Don’t pull faces at me, young lady,” Maxwell chastised. Aurora’s face softened and she squeezed Max’s thumb. He couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, good. I knew you’d understand. See, me and you are on the same wavelength. We get each other.”

Aurora’s lips curled into a smile that matched her father’s, and Max continued to smooth out her hair. You had overheard that part of the conversation, and you wished that you could’ve only been there to witness the interaction. Maxwell made a habit of talking ‘business’ with Aurora. It was funny, but in a strange way, it was like she understood him.

Now that the crying had stopped, you figured you could at least try and fall asleep.

“Daddy?”

Maxwell crooked his head slightly and looked over at the nursery door, where his six year old son, Alistair was standing. “Hey buddy,” Maxwell said quietly, ushering Alistair to come over. “Why are you awake?”

“Aurora was crying,” Alistair mumbled, dragging his comfort blanket and one of his soft toys further into the nursery. “I brought her my comforter and my Ewok.”

“Your what--?” Maxwell asked, furrowing his eyebrows together.

“My Ewok.” Alistair repeated, offering no further explanation.

“Well Ali, that’s very thoughtful. Why don’t you put your… Ewok in her crib, and pass me your comforter. We can wrap her in it,” Maxwell instructed, and Alistair obliged. “Why don’t you wrap the blanket around her, hm? But be careful.”

Max lifted up Aurora ever so slightly so Alistair could fit the blanket around her tiny body. “I think she likes it.” Alistair grinned, completely chuffed with himself, and Max nodded his head in affirmation.

“She does,” he smiled, squeezing his son’s shoulder so he knew that his father was proud. “Now she knows her big brother will always look out for her.”

“I will daddy, I promise.”

The two boys spent a few minutes in comfortable silence, gushing and fussing over Aurora.

“Why was sissy crying? Is she alright?” Alistair pondered out loud, the concern clear in his voice.

“Yeah, of course, she’s fine. Look, sometimes we just need to be held. We just need to know that there’s someone out there watching over us. And that everything will be okay.” Max said softly, tracing his finger along Aurora’s delicate face. Alistair stayed quiet for a moment as he took in his father’s words. That feeling resonated with Alistair all too well. He knew what it felt like to yearn for the attention of a parent. And Maxwell understood it too. He had an awful relationship with his own father, which is why he swore to be the absolute best for his son and daughter. “Ali, could you do me a favour?” Max questioned, eventually breaking the silence.

“Yes.”

“Could you quietly go check on mommy and see if she’s sleeping?”

Alistair nodded and tip-toed out of the nursery and into your bedroom. Low and behold, you were finally sleeping. Alistair got a little too close to you, and pushed your hair out of your face so he could check to see if your eyes were closed. His brash movement (even though he’d tried his hardest to be gentle) woke you up. Alistair gasped when he saw what he’d done and smacked his hand over his mouth in disbelief.

“Oh no, were you asleep?” Alistair questioned, his dark eyes going wide. You yawned and nodded your head. “Did I wake you?”

You offered him a tired smile and pulled him into the bed so he could curl up next to you. “It’s okay Ali. Did Aurora wake you up too?”

“Yeah.” Alistair mumbled tiredly, nuzzling into your chest for comfort. He was immediately put at ease in your arms.

He’d never had a relationship like this with his biological mother, no matter how much he’d wished for it. But now he finally had you. You loved Alistair like he was your own blood and you treated him as your own since day one. You loved him unconditionally, just as much as you loved Aurora. Alistair was so thankful to have someone like you in his life and your bond with him was unbreakable. Maybe wishes could come true.

“She’s a little trouble maker.” you yawned and Alistair stifled a giggle.

“Like daddy.” he muttered and you grinned.

“Exactly. Just like daddy.”

After a few intimate moments alone with Aurora, Maxwell stood up. She’d settled down a lot and had even fallen asleep in his arms. Max didn’t want to put her down to bed though, at least, not yet.

Maybe he could bring her to bed. That would be nice.

Cradling Aurora, he carefully stood up from the oak wood rocking chair and padded out of the nursery, only to hear a series of thumping footsteps venture up the stairs.

Oh no.

The jingle of her pretty pink collar was unmistakable, as the fluffy white cat, Lady Lord, came bouncing up the staircase. She purred and circled around Max’s feet, rubbing her soft cheeks over his legs.

“What do you want?” Maxwell asked, glaring down at the kitty.

Lady just looked up at him and meow’ed, her blue eyes wide and awake. If she wanted anything, it was to be fed. She loved her biscuits.

“Lady, it’s almost four in the morning. You’ll have to wait until breakfast.”

She meow’ed again, this time louder, and followed Max by his heels as he walked along the corridor.

“I don’t care, Lady,” Max sighed. “We fed you before we went to bed and you’ll get something in a few hours. I’m not feeding you now.”

Maxwell swore this cat was like having a third child.

Lady wailed and raced past Maxwell once she sensed he was heading to his bedroom. Lady Lord jumped onto the bottom of the bed, by your feet, and curled up. She looked like a snowball.

You smiled to yourself as you heard Max approach. He tilted his head and frowned when he entered the bedroom and noticed you were still awake. His frown deepened when he saw that Alistair was laying next to you.

“I thought he’d gone to bed,” Max confessed, gently passing you Aurora so you could hold her while he discarded his slippers and robe. You smoothed out Alistair’s dark hair and watched him as he slept peacefully by your side. “And why are you still awake?” Max questioned.

“I was listening to the conversation you were having with your business associate-- I mean, your daughter.” you joked and Maxwell rolled his eyes, sliding under the covers. He took Aurora from your arms so he could nurse her again.

“She gets me.” Max assured you and you had to stifle back a laugh. You leaned your head on your boyfriend’s shoulder and looked down at the newborn.

“That’s great honey, but if her first words end up being ‘Life is good, but it can be better’, I’ll not be happy.” you quipped and Maxwell smirked.

In this precise moment, Maxwell swore that he had never been happier. He spent much of his life believing money and materials would satisfy him, but he was still left with an empty, gaping hole in his heart. He always wanted more, he wanted to try and somehow fill that void, but he just didn’t know what to look for. He was never searching for love, and yet you still found him. And you filled that hole in his heart. You completed him, and made him into a better man. He could never fault you for that, and he’d always be grateful for everything you did for him. Everyday that was spent with you and his growing family was a day well spent.

If he could change one thing, it would be that he realised this sooner. But you taught him that he shouldn’t regret anything. Yes, he had made mistakes, but so does everyone, and that doesn’t make him any less of a person. What inspired you the most about Max was that he consistently worked on himself and tried to better himself for his family. And you saw his progress every single day.

“Do you want me to take Ali to bed?” Max asked, kissing your shoulder softly.

“No, he’s fine here,” you replied quietly, feeling the utmost contentment with your family being by your side. “This bed can easily fit five people.” you acknowledged.

Maxwell’s eyes went comically wide at your comment. “Five?!” he wheezed, and you pointed your finger down towards the edge of the bed where Lady was sleeping. Max hadn't even noticed her joining. Clearly, it was a family event, at 4am in his bed. “She follows me everywhere!” Max exclaimed incredulously, shaking his head and scratching the back of his neck. Lady opened her eyes and glanced up at Max, recognising the mention of her.

“She loves you.” you cooed.

“She’s annoying.” Maxwell frowned, but you knew, deep down, he adored that cat. He had never been an animal person, and he wouldn’t have adopted Lady if it wasn’t for you, but he truly did love her. She was loyal and compassionate and despite the trail of cat hairs she left all over his three piece power suits, he wouldn’t trade her for the world.

“And you love her too.” you corrected him.

Max sighed and shook his head in defeat before returning to his previous statement. “You know, this bed might actually be able to fit more than five people. Maybe six. Or seven…” he trailed off, his free hand caressing your thigh as he sized up the double king-sized bed.

He wasn’t subtle. You could read him like an open book. You knew exactly what he was implying.

Your jaw dropped and you looked up at him with wide eyes. Max’s smirk only grew upon seeing your reaction. “Wait… are you saying we can get more cats?!”

And just like that, his smirk fell from his lips. “I--”

“Oh my gosh Maxie!” You squealed, wrapping your arms around him. Maxwell blinked as he tried to process what just happened.

“I didn’t mean--”

“How long had you been planning this?” Teasing Max Lord might have been one of your most favourite hobbies. If only you could snap a photo of his face at this very moment.

He said your name, slowly and looked slightly disconcerted.

You grinned and cupped his cheek. “I know,” you laughed. “I know what you meant.”

A brief silence filled the room.

“I do like cats…” Max told you eventually. You leaned over him and turned off his bedside lamp.

“Mhm…” you mumbled, rolling over so you were snuggling into him. He was still on his back, nursing Aurora.

“I’m just saying…” he trailed off, staring at the ceiling. “I think we’re pretty good at this parenting thing. And I like… having kids with you…”

You smiled in the darkness.

“Go to sleep Maxie.” you whispered.

“I just think--”

“Go to sleep.” you giggled, and you felt him press a kiss into your hair.

“Goodnight,” he uttered. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

-—-—-—♡—-—-—-

Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711 @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja200 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat @rye-flower @theamuz @persie33 @sleepylunarwolf @martellthemandalor @pedro-pastel @steeevienicks @rrtxcmt @saphic-susperia @ladyjenny19 @readsalot73

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #ww84 #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #alistair lord #maxwell lorenzano

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riddlecrux · 3 years

Text

Rosehall

Day 1 of Elriel Month is here! Summary: He knew that Rhysand's orders weren't fickle nor laced with lies, yet he couldn't phantom how his brother turned on him. How he, of all the people, couldn't understand how badly he wanted to be happy.

You can also read it on ao3!

They didn't talk.

No shy glances, no accidental touches while passing each other through the corridor, no warm smiles behind the rim of a wine glass. Even the silence in which he was sitting was unbearable, so different than the one that carried comfort and jasmine scent that always made him content, whole, at ease. Now, sitting alone on the fine chair in the House of Wind he was barely breathing. He was suffocating with loneliness, heavier than the one that crawled through his bones in that dark cell from his childhood. A real pain exploded behind his closed eyelids.

The night air pricked on his face as he tried not to think, not to feel. It was as if the gaping hole in his chest was a thing of his own shadows - swirling inside, eating him out and leaving only shreds of his broken emotions. He tried. He tried so desperately not to fall for her. For yet another unattainable person that was next to him just to mock his misfortune. It was something completely wrong. How one can take so many failures and still delude himself that maybe this time the ending would be different.

He was such a damned fool.

Azriel opened his eyes as a sharp pang in his chest enveloped him in another wave of utter bitterness and helplessness. The thing with Elain was something he hadn't expected - she came into his life wielding a fork and suddenly he could see clearer than ever before in his life. How sun caught in her golden-brown hair and how the freckles on her left cheek created a small triangle. And the way all that loveliness faded away when she was stripped of her own free will - and how he failed her at that moment. The arrow to his chest didn't hurt as much as her screams. The terror of them was still haunting him during long nights of insomnia and half slept nights.

And there was that companionship they formed. Based on silence and gardens. Teas full of leaves and sticky fruit floating on its surface. Elain always preferred her to drink sweet, even if her nose scrunched each time she sipped from a porcelain teacup - pale pinky held in the air as if she was still a lady in a room full of liars and men trying to woo her. Maybe during those moments of tranquility between them, he started to appreciate her gentleness even more.

Their meetings slowly but surely transformed into nights full of sleeplessness and sore throats - silence turned into constant chatter about everything and nothing. The first time he heard her giggle his world turned upside down. In that particular moment she was all he saw, in all her golden glory and chocolate smear on her chin - so warm and bright, so out of his reach. A secret. His secret, a memory to be locked inside his mind's labyrinth.

Sometimes he wished that both of them stopped before they had even begun their… relationship. Because maybe if he possessed more self strength and if he was less selfish, he would have protested when Elain touched his hand while they were resting in the garden. Or when he caressed her cheek while trying to get rid of the soil splattered there. Whenever they touched Azriel felt as if he was healing. These small palms that traced ridiculous figures on his scarred hands brought him comfort no one else did. A touch so tender that he wanted to break in halves only for her to mend him again. She was nothing like him and at the same time so familiar, so understanding. When she looked at him with her brown eyes full of terrors and beauty, he knew that she could see his soul. Every ugly part of him. And she never averted her stare, never flinched from his touch - she wholeheartedly accepted him.

Sighing out loud his wings twitched behind him when his eyes darkened once again. He knew that Rhysand's orders weren't fickle nor laced with lies, yet he couldn't phantom how his brother turned on him. How he, of all the people, couldn't understand how badly he wanted to be happy.

"Long night?" He snapped his neck at the voice and inwardly relaxed seeing cold silver eyes staring at him without fear.

"I suppose so," shrugging his shoulders he turned back toward the city, one hand still on the glass of strong alcohol he was pouring into himself for hours. A screech of a moving chair resonated next to him and with a slow exhale he sipped his drink.

"Not the fire this time," Nesta huffed and he saw in his peripheral vision that she poured herself a decent shot as well. "Both of you are the same," a small smile ghosted on her lips before she drank the brownish liquid in one go.

"Me and who?" He knew playing stupid wouldn't work on her but he was so tired. He had already lost, so Nesta seeing him at his worst would be nothing in comparison to the thunder inside his mind. The oldest Archeron sister let out a dry chuckle which indicated that she was aware of his silly attempt of deflection.

"Elain," her name awakened something inside him. Like a golden tether holding him upwards, longing after the female that brought up such emotions from him. "She used to glow these days, you know," he saw her playing with the rim of the goblet. Long finger stopping suddenly as if the glass burned her. "I know what happiness looks on her, and whenever both of you interacted or spent time together she was always… so bright. So alive," his heart thumped a few times before it gave him a painful tug. "The moment you saved her life was the first time I had wished that you were her mate," the wound opened again, a small sound escaped his mouth before he slumped forward. "But fate isn't so merciful. Yet, Elain made her own way in this life. I saw how she escaped that empty shell she used to be and how she learned to breathe again… with you ," Azriel wanted her to stop. To let go of this torment she was exposing him to.

"I can't listen to this," he stood up, his wings stretching to its whole span. "You know it's impossible," his bitter laugh echoed in the interior. "We both know that it doesn't matter if I have feelings for her," he was ready to fly away when Nesta's hand caught his elbow. Silver eyes shone in the darkness of the night with ancient power.

"It's her choice," she whispered. "She doesn't want her mate, she has never wanted that bond," her grip loosened for a bit and he was tempted to run away but her expression held him in one place. "But she wants you. She chose you. And you know it because I saw how you look at her, how both of you glance at each other," she pinched him when he was composing himself from snapping at her. "Ask her. Ask her about what she wants. Take her to the place where it's just both of you, so no one can interfere," her nod was final and with it, she slowly turned around and vanished upstairs. His jaw hurt from the force he was clenching his teeth. Nesta's words were a poison that circulated through his bloodstream.

Could he have that conversation?

Could they possibly be together?

The night air was cold against his burning skin when he shot up in the sky, wings outstretched and tense.

He landed on her balcony.

The beige curtains were dancing in the air, metal dreamcatcher swaying on the wisps with a soft melody. There were plants and flowers scattered around the balustrade and his shadows skittered around them, leaping into petals and leaves before returning to his form. He stopped beside the wooden table to see half-finished tea and some papers - a few of them with drawings of different gardens, trees, and notes about the seeds. However, what caught his attention was a stash of papers with Elain's handwriting. All of them were thrown around the surface with drops of tea marking some of them. There were letters forming sentences, he could pinpoint some of them, ones that weren't completely crossed out in the pale moonlight. He was about to touch one scroll with his name on it when his shadows whirled around him with a soft warning.

"Spying on me?" The sweet scent of jasmine and honey embraced his person as his hazel eyes blinked at the sight in front of him. Elain was in a white nightgown, tiny ribbons on her freckled shoulders were something he didn't know he needed to see in his life. Her loose hair was curling at its edges as the tresses touched her middle. She was watching him, big brown eyes stoic and unnerving.

"No," he breathed and her smell attacked his senses, driving him crazy. She crossed her arms under her breasts and padded towards him. Her feet stopped next to him and with a lazy movement, she gathered her papers without glancing at him. He could see her nape, soft and pale and so inviting as she leaned across the table. His fingers curled into fists when her presence burned his self-resilience.

"Do you need me for something?" She inquired letters in her grip and a slight frown on her perfect face.

"Actually," his shoulder tensed when she shot him a questioning glance. "Yes, I need you," he left it there. A pause and weight of his words, waiting for the judgment and perhaps hatred. But it never came as Elain silently turned to him, her lips parted and a soundless sigh ghosting in the air between them. She peered at him, irises wide and somewhat gentle before she touched his biceps and he was ready to be undone.

"We should talk," her breath tickled his skin as he nodded without thinking twice. "Here?" Her question woke him up and trying not to scare her, he offered his scarred palm while stretching out his wings.

"There's a place I want to show you," his words echoed in the dead of night and as her small fingers wrapped around his hand he could finally breathe again.

When they arrived the moon was high in the sky, its light reflecting on the waters of a marble fountain in front of the manor. He exhaled letting Elain down as she politely exchanged her thanks. She pried her hair from the face and with newfound excitement, she whirled around facing him with a bright smile.

"I dreamed about this place," her voice was warm and all he wanted was to touch her to make sure she was standing there under the moonlight. "The gardens were something I have wanted to see," she pointed a finger in the direction of a greenhouse and a patch of flowers and vines.

"Dream or a vision?" He knew he shouldn't test his luck, yet deep down inside he felt as if he had already known the answer. As if it was imprinted inside his heart for a long time.

"Vision," she answered, walking towards the field of roses. Her palm touched some petals while her hair tumbled down towards the ground. "I saw you here," her digits closed around the stem with silent amusement. "You were happy," she turned around and looked straight at him.

"This is Rosehall," the lump in his throat made it difficult for him to speak. It was like a fever dream of his, having her here in the fields of flowers and so painstakingly real.

"Very suitable," she smiled and turned once again stepping onto the soft grass. "It's a pretty name," he heard her sitting on the ground and when he glanced up he saw her lying flat on the earth. Her knees were slightly angled but her face was upwards as if she was watching stars. Azriel staggered towards her, breathing fresh air as he finally stood up on her right.

"I haven't thought about its name for years," he slowly sat and looked at her profile. She was gazing at the sky with a small smile. Happiness looked beautiful on her, it made her glow.

"There's so much...space," she breathed and her chest moved in a slight erratic manner. "You can almost taste freedom here," Elain blinked as she turned onto her side. She faced him and he thought that there was never a time in his life when he felt so many emotions at once.

"I'm sorry," the edges of him crumbled as his eyes started to burn. He didn't mean to hurt her, not in the slightest. He was just too… selfish. And she was everything he had ever dreamed about, an embodiment of home, of a warmth he so desperately searched for. "It wasn't a mistake," he whispered as her hand fell upon his abdomen. Always trusting, always inviting.

"Then what? A distraction?" She mused as her body leaned forward and she was mirroring his position. "I will never know as long as you won't talk to me," she supplied with a pain in her voice.

"No, never a distraction. I have wanted this," he circled the air with his hand ambiguously. "From the moment you clenched onto that fork you were someone I have wanted to be with," his head lowered down Azriel didn't want to meet her eyes.

"Why haven't you told me?" Her confusion mixed with regret pained him.

"You have a mate," he muttered while plucking on some innocent straw of grass.

"And you know I don't want him," her palm searched for his cheek and as she turned his face to look at her, he saw tears in her eyes. "Whenever I'm with you I feel whole. Alive. I look at you and feel so scared," he inwardly flinched yet she held him in one place. "Scared of losing you. Every time I lose sight of you I feel like I'm drowning. It's as if a part of me was ripped apart," she closed her trembling lips and stared at him with utter devotion.

"Elain," his fingers touched her neck, his thumb circling around the hollow gap between her shoulder and jaw.

"That night I chose you. Us," she said with a final note, leaning against his hand. "It's my choice, no one else's," a butterfly-like kiss ghosted on his inner palm.

"Rhysand's orders," he gulped when she pushed him down and climbed onto his lap.

"Fuck Rhysand's orders," she spat and for a moment both of them were silent. Then he laughed, a true bellowing laughter erupted at the back of his throat at her vicious remark. Her giggles followed and he had never heard such an extraordinary sound.

"Never deemed you as a foul mouth," he managed when she slumped forward, enveloping him in a warm hug.

"I live with Illyrians and a very pissed immortal being," a hot kiss on his neck made him shiver.

"Elain," he took her face in his hands and stared at her brown eyes with a heat crawling down his spine. "Elain," he whispered again while closing the distance between them. She whimpered when he finally nibbed at her lower lip. The sensation waking up something primal inside him, a storm of feelings and needs attacking his senses. Her warm mouth opened and he finally kissed her - something exploded in his chest, something brilliant and intimate. It was as if everything was set in order, the way her lips moved against and how their bodies molded into one. He could feel her, smell her need and anticipation. She was shaking as her small fingers dug into his neck.

"Azriel," his name on her lips was his undoing. He opened his eyes and saw her… glowing. The golden hue enveloping both of them into a cocoon of intense bliss. When she opened her eyes the golden color lingered there for a while before vanishing, leaving both of them gasping for air.

"You were always there," he realized touching his chest. A vibrant thread blinding him with its magnitude.

"Rosehall," she laughed tracing his scars. "You have waited for so long," Elain kissed his temple while embracing him again. "I'm sorry I have made you wait for so long," the bridge between them sparkled with love and belonging.

"I knew you would come to me," nothing but the truth slipped through his lips as he gently cupped her chin. Both of them stared at each other, halves of two finally found. A home he had longed for, held in his arms as a scent of roses and jasmine shielded him from the world.

#elrielmonth #elrielmonth21 #pro elriel #elriel #day 1 #rosehall #pro elain archeron #pro azriel #elain and azriel

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alicemitch09writes · 3 years

Text

lame

03.

don’t come for me with your half-assed presence

Pain spread across your abdomen, sending you sprawling. Rolling over you turn on your hands and knees, steadying, as you eyed the purple-haired boy in front of you, breathing hard – in the nose, out the mouth.

“Shinso, five, Yoruichi, six.” A voice announced, loud, tired, but clear.

Cursing under your breath, you lifted your shirt to wipe the sweat off your upper lip.

Shinso Hitoshi’s breathing was haggard, hair sticking wildly above him, eyes narrowed at you but focused and steady – it was a good look on him.

Aizawa Shouta – also known as the Pro Hero: Eraser Head, stood idly on the side, watching the two teens go at it. Beside him stood a rather muscular elderly man, dressed in his kimono clothes, stoic eyes on the two teens before him, the stern Shihan of the Yoruichi dojo.

…who also just happened to be your grandfather and Eraser Head’s instructor during his early years.

“Oi, foolish granddaughter, keep up!”

“Shut it, old man!” you yelled back, annoyed. But turning back to the purple-haired teen, you discreetly gave him a thumbs up. You’re keeping up, that’s good!

Though hidden by his scarf-capturing device, you could see the making of a smile spread across his face from the faint crinkles beneath his tired eyes.

Rising to stand, you fell into a ready stance, the teen mimicking you.

“Best six outta ten?”

“You’re on.”

The two men watched on the sides as the two began to go at it again, the purple-haired teen careful with your lower attacks, while you avoided his fists and scarf, yellow eyes glinting as you attuned yourself to Shinso’s, trying to get a read on him – ears picking up on his breathing, the pressure of his footsteps, eyes taking in the slightest movement, any signs of hesitation.

A kick followed by a swift sweep off, he just barely managed to duck before meeting your smirk. Planting your feet against the ground, you leaped over him, completely catching him off guard, before you leaped towards him again. Everything was happening too fast for him to catch up, your body or legs wrapped around his neck, before arms grabbed hold of him and slammed him down the mat, hard.

“Yoruichi, seven, Shinso, five,” Aizawa announced once again, eyes betraying nothing as his gaze fixed on the purple-haired teen.

Sweat was dripping down his clothes, his muscles were burning from the exercise. Still, he struggled on his feet, body flinching a bit from the kick (or was it a punch?) you delivered two or four fights back? He didn’t know, he was getting lost.

These supplementary lessons were getting harder and harder, especially when it was at night and that he was up against someone with nocturnal quirk and skilled in martial arts.

“You remind me of my best friend,” you say to him, hands on your knees. “you both don’t know when to quit. Or was it just Izuku, who didn’t like to quit?” the words were a bit testy, but in a way, a challenge.

That seemed to be the right trigger, watching with a smirk as the purple-haired teen quickly got to his feet, controlling his breathing.

“You’re hard to beat, so let’s put it at that.” He tells you, eyes narrowed.

You shrug, smirk still in place.

“Also, Midoriya can be irritatingly encouraging.”

The smirk was gone, replacing it was a genuine smile that almost took him off guard.

Keyword: almost.

“Foolish granddaughter, don’t flirt! That wasn’t part of the training.”

“Shut up, old man!”

In the end, you had Shinso beat 10 to seven.

He was improving, more alert, more used to one-on-one combat, and stronger. Watching him, training with him, just the thought of how much influence Izuku’s done at his new school, interacting with the people he met, with whom he’s spread his kindness to – it was a great way to end your day.

To: Izuku

From: (Name)

Finished another training session!

[image.txt]

...

From: Izuku

To: (Name)

Uwah! That’s so cool!

But wait, is that Aizawa-sensei behind you?

…

To: Izuku

From: (Name)

Not telling! :p

But yeah, sometimes I have to spar with him.

…

From: Izuku

To: (Name)

THAT’S SO COOL!

...

To: Izuku

From: (Name)

Yeah, but he beats me every damn time :/

…

From: Izuku

To: (Name)

Well, he is a Pro Hero after all.

…

To: Izuku

From: (Name)

That. And because he’s kinda dirty when we spar D:<

He’d use his quirk when I least expect it.

…

From: Izuku

To: (Name)

THIS IS A LOT TO TAKE IN!

LET’S CATCH UP AND CHAT MORE ABOUT YOUR QUIRK NEXT TIME!

IS THAT OKAY WITH YOU?????

sorry if i’m rambling

…

To: Izuku

From: (Name)

Chill, no problemo~ :3

As if I’m not used to your excitement after 15 years of friendship hehehoho ;D

…

From: Izuku

To: (Name)

You’re the best, (Nickname)!

…

To: Izuku

From: (Name)

I know I am.

Just drop by the café or text me, okay?

…

From: Izuku

To: (Name)

Will do!

Having finished your shift, you released a heavy breath. Weekends were the only times you were granted to work longer hours; you usually request for the closing shift as your body worked better at night. Still, it didn’t mean work was easy as weekends also tend to the busiest time of the week.

“At least I’m getting paid for this…” you mutter to yourself, fixing your bag around your shoulders.

After disclosing with Izuku your quirk, you’d expect him to turn his back on you, after all, he was kept in the dark for so long. But the thing was, you forgot that he wasn’t the other guy. Instead, he went a mile asking about your quirk – what does it exactly do, its amazing advantages, and how it was a waste that you were studying at a normal school. Needless to say, nothing’s changed between you two. It actually reminded you of the time he shared his secret.

“…come again?”

“Y-Yes, my quirk…it was passed down to me…by All Might…”

“…”

“(N-Nickname)…?” Izuku asked, worried.

For what seemed like a minute, you tugged his sleeve, he looked up at you. “Izuku…punch me.”

“E-EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEH!?”

Izuku didn’t really punch you, because he feared the power One for All was capable of, instead, he just pinched you. As hard as he could.

Jolting at the pain, eyes gazed at the bruise on your wrist. “W-Woah…I am awake, this is real. Y-You have a quirk?!” (e/c) eyes widened at the curly-haired boy, shrinking at the information disclosed between you two.

You could see that frail little boy, standing on wobbly knees to protect you, tiny fists raised in the air.

This was still the same boy. “Izuku,” Your protector. “that’s amazing!” Your best friend. “You finally get to be a hero now!” Your hero.

Those words.

Those heartfelt words, together with that bright look in your eyes – pride and love, those were the words he was waiting for.

He heard it first from his idol, and now, he heard it from his best friend.

A wet sheen filled up your friend’s green eyes, a warbled smile making its way on his freckled cheeks. You stopped, feeling your heart swell at the expression on his face.

“H-Hey, why’re you making that face?”

Shaking his head, he stared into space, worrying you. “I-I’m just…I-I…”

Falling to his knees, the tears wouldn’t stop, streaming down his face as those words, those words that left your mouth swallowed him whole.

Realization fell upon you; you couldn’t help but tear up as well. Izuku can be too modest with himself, sometimes.

“Dummy, get over here!”

As if needing to be told, he tackled you into a hug, crying on your shoulder as you rubbed at his back. “Of course, you can be a hero, Izuku, with or without your quirk. You’d make an amazing hero! In fact, you’re my hero.”

Those words fuelled his tears even more, hand tightening on your shirt. Izuku wailed, you held him tighter, tears continuing to stream down your faces.

…

Just thinking about it makes you laugh, especially since after that, you were left with a wet shirt filled with snot and tears and Izuku was so guilty that he bought you a new shirt the very next day.

Since then, your friendship strengthened.

It made you happy because he trusted a great secret in your hands because he trusts you that much, you were important to him.

But as much as you loved and adored your best friend, what you couldn’t understand was why he had to reveal his secret to him.

Shoulders sagged, eyes dulling. “Bakugou Katsuki…”

He just stood there, leaning against the wall, hands in his pocket, as though he’d been waiting on you. Carmine eyes swallowed you whole, however, you refused to bow in his presence.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

It had been a little over a week since he last dropped by, since then, he hadn’t come back since. Izuku dropped earlier that week, much to your relief. Anyone but him would be a sight for sore eyes.

“I want to talk to you…”

Scoffing, you stepped away from him. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

Before you could take another step, he takes you by the elbow, stopping you. “That wasn’t a request.”

He was so close, his tall frame towering over yours, the smell of burnt sugar and spicy cinnamon lingered – the sensation was too much for your heightened senses.

Glaring, your eyes slowly shifted from (e/c) to a dangerous yellow. “Sorry, don’t fucking care.”

Undeterred by the change, his hold tightened, eyes still locked on to yours. “Let me rephrase: I need to talk to you.”

He sounded desperate, too desperate. Something unheard of from one Bakugou Katsuki.

Smirking, you titled your head as you leaned in, noses brushing. “Oh, yeah? Too late, used up all my fucks for you.”

Tripping his foot, catching him off-balance, you used his disorientation to turn on your heel, strapping your backpack in front of you before you made a run for it. With the help of your sonar senses, you had found an easy route out, one where it’d be easy to get away from him and away from unwanted attention.

With all your might, you leap off the ground, leaping ledge to ledge before you were atop a building, legs instantly moved the moment you landed. Not a moment’s notice, you tell yourself, leaping on to the next room, must escape-

“OI!” a blast sounded off behind you.

Fuck. “Seriously!?” you looked back in disbelief. “You’re doing this?”

“GET BACK HERE, (NAME)!”

Eyes narrowed, you dropped to the ground, scowling at the blond as you landed swiftly on your feet. “Not a chance.” And then you ran again.

Following the path your senses mapped out, the chase continued on, unable to shake him off even as you purposely dashed through a crowded street, skirting through easily. He was screaming behind you, people making way for the angry teen after you.

For a few blocks, you were almost confident you had lost him, unable to keep up with your heightened speed. However, if there was one thing Aizawa Shouta or your grandfather taught you, it’s that you could never underestimate your enemy…

Bakugou let out a loud growl, practically sounding like a snarl, too, explosions went off with every leap, it was sure to make a scene.

…sooner or later, they’d catch up to you.

You did catch their sports festival, Bakugou winning the first spot even though his finals match was rather half-assed. Nonetheless, he was rather versatile, calculating, and undeniably cocky the whole time, effortlessly besting and standing out above the rest of his class. It was irritating, to say the least.

No one with that shitty of an attitude and pride should be capable of such amazing feats.

Still hot on your heels, Bakugou relentlessly chased after you, quick to follow even after you’ve come across building after building. With your heightened hearing, you could hear him cursing under his ragged breath, his chest pounding wildly, exhausted from the tireless chase. There was the faint sweet scent of nitroglycerin cumulating from his palms, which he’s probably saving up for a later time, something you’d have to be wary about.

It’s alright, you thought to yourself, seeing the familiar houses of your subdivision, you could outrun him. Also, it was night-time, where your quirk was at its peak form.

Sure enough, an explosion blasted off behind you, launching him forward. Having expected this, just as he reached you did you jump back, a great foot off the ground, legs folded in time before his hands grabbed hold of either of them.

What you weren’t expecting was that he had blasted with only one hand, the other was on the side, ready for another blast.

Shi-

A loud explosion cut through the night, Bakugou’s body propelling, colliding with yours until you were both flying off, blindly landing in a nearby park, on some bushes.

Ash touched your tongue, vision unfocused, slowly coming to from the bright flash, ears ringing almost painfully – senses disoriented, you tried to collect yourself.

Fingers twitched, grabbing hold of the dirt. Yes, you were definitely knocked out. But you could still make a run for it-

Sniffing, your nose picked up the smell of smoke, grass, dirt, and burnt sugar.

Strong arms were wrapped around your body, Bakugou behind you, holding on to you, cushioning you against him to break the fall. Coming to, he groaned, his breath was hot against your neck, arms tightening as he sat up, bringing you with him.

For a moment, you relished at the moment – his arms were tight around you, letting you lean against his chest, roughened hands gently grabbed hold of yours, and his nose burrowed into your neck.

Ears suddenly focused on the beating of his heart, the gentle fluttering, like a bird’s wing flapping, resonating throughout his body. The beats, it was in tune with yours. Gentle. Calm. An unexplained warmth.

Hot breath against your sensitive neck brought you back, remembering the wild chase from earlier. “Oi,” he remained silent, unmoving. “L-Let go of me-“

“Not a chance.”

“Fucking,” his hands tightened on yours, firmly. “what the fuck, let me go, Bakugou!”

He still wouldn’t budge, teeth grinding. Freeing one hand, you shoved at him, using your nocturnal strength, but he still wouldn’t budge. So, fucking persistent! Finally freeing your other hand, you tried with all your might to push him away, but his hold on you only tightened.

“I said,” Push “let” Shove “me” Push, Shove “go!”

“Hey, (Name)…” he whispered, rough voice almost tired, rough hands grabbing hold of your wrists, breath hot against your ear. A whimper escaping your mouth before you could stop yourself. “…what’s so great about Deku?”

Your body went slack, his hold unrelenting on your wrists.

“What makes him so special? All Might, you, you seem to find him amazing, endearing. Why is that?” his hands slid into yours, thumbs rubbing your palm. “What does he have that I don’t?”

“Why?” his hands squeezed over yours. “Why were you willing to spend all that time, pretending to be quirkless, just to be with him? Why him? He’s just Deku! Why didn’t you tell anyone that you had a quirk? Why didn’t you tell me!?”

The desperation in his voice, followed by bitterness, insecurities, probably held on for years and years, the way he desperately held unto your hands, unto you – unrelenting, desperate, as if to ground yourself. All of it – it was exhausting. So exhausting.

“I’m exhausted,” you whispered. “please let me go.”

Annoyed, he snarled. “Not until you answer me.”

“Would it make a difference?”

“It would at least make things crystal fucking clear!”

You could feel your hands twitch against his, that ugly feeling coming back. “If that’s the case,” sighing dramatically, you leaned back a bit, yellow eyes glinting against the moonlight “then the answer should be obvious.”

There was something in the way those eyes shined, something that reminded him of something. However, because his emotions were muddled, it obscured his line of thinking, causing one ugly emotion to rise above the rest.

“Hah? Are you in love with him or something!?”

“The fuck-!?” body turning, you shoved at him, hard, finally creating some space. “NO! HE’S MY BEST FRIEND! I DON’T SEE HIM THAT WAY, AND NEITHER DOES HE!”

“Then, why do you trust him so much? Why didn’t you tell me about your quirk? Where does he go off all high and mighty, as if he were better than me? Is that it? Were you both fucking sorry for me? Were you looking down on me as well, huh, (Nickname)!?”

SLAP!

Pain spread across his cheeks; face turned the other way. You must’ve used your quirk, maybe you didn’t, but it hurt. It fucking hurt.

“You’re despicable, Bakugou Katsuki, absolutely despicable.” Shoving away, you stood, body shaking – from anger, disappointed, you don’t know.

Yellow faded away into (e/c), those (e/c) eyes were burning down, tears starting to form, threatening to fall, which shocked him. He’s never seen you cry, not even once.

“You want to know why I trust Izuku so much, why I care for him so much, why I love him so much, and why I chose him over you? Because compared to you, Izuku’s always been more of a hero compared to you.” his body stiffened at that, hands balling into fists, fingers digging into dirt and grass. “Also, you do remember what happened in junior high school, right?” He flinched, faltered.

Flashbacks of that day came rushing through your head, along with the pain, wreck, and havoc. So much happened that day, so much, too much.

Jerking his head upwards, he could only watch you walk away.

You went home that day, lost in a daze as tears streamed down your face. Once in the safety of your room, your legs gave out, falling awkwardly to the ground, your bag slipping off you.

With shaky hands, you reached for your bag, unable to stop shaking as you desperately search through your things. Picking up your phone, you called the one person who would always help you through the pain.

“(N-Nickname)…?” came his sluggish voice, having answered on the fifth ring.

Breaking into a garbled sigh, you pressed a hand to your mouth. The noise alerting Izuku on the other end. “(Nickname)?” his voice was firmer, alert, sleep gone completely. “What’s wrong, are you okay? Is it nightmares?” a wet laugh escaped your mouth, shaking your head even though he couldn’t see it. “What is it, (Nickname)? Please tell me.”

Sniffling, you wiped your nose with the back of your hand, knees folding. “I love you; you know that?”

“Yeah, I love you, too, (Nickname).”

Bakugou Katsuki came home that night, covered in dirt and grass, feeling numb. Completely numb, from head to toe. Barely registering that he was in his living room, home.

His cheeks numbed from the slap earlier, sure to leave a bruise for a day or two. He probably deserved it.

Unable to shake the memories of that day – laughter from him and his classmates, a burnt notebook, the look on Deku’s face, your words, the look in your eyes – before sick dread washed over his veins.

Angrily, he threw his bag across the room, hitting the wall.

“KATSUKI, KEEP YOUR VOICE DOWN AND GO TO BED!”

masterlist • four

#lame #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki angst #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #bhna fic #bnha angst #bnha angst fic #mha fic #mha angst fic

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toh-writings · 3 years

Text

Fortunes of Love Pt 4 (Eda x OC)

Summary:

Everyone tries to figure out how exactly to handle Owl Beast Eda. Or, at the very least, get her to not kill them.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4

The house was dark, all the curtains drawn, and not even hooty made a sound. The door opened with only the slightest of creaks, but it was drowned out by Eda’s loud snoring. Two heads peaked through the door, taking in the form of the sleeping beast.

“So… That’s Eda?” Niliana asked. King nodded. “Alright then.” They closed the door gently and Niliana began pacing, trying to think up a plan. She didn’t really know anything about… well, any of this! She didn’t know anything about curses, beasts, how she was supposed to act around something like Eda in her owl form, how she was supposed to handle any of this. But she promised to help and she couldn’t let anyone get hurt. She sighed.

“Alright, first thing first, we DON’T wake her up. No one is going to react well being startled awake like that. Can you handle that?”

“Of course! That I can do! I just won’t go inside. Ever.”

Niliana just looked at him for a moment.

“That… seems unreasonable, but okay. I’m going to sit inside with Eda. When Luz gets back, make sure you warn her and tell her to be quiet.”

“Can do!” King gave a mock salute before running off. He sat underneath one of the nearby trees. Once he was settled he gave Nily a little wave. She sighed through her nose, turning away so he wouldn’t see the look of exasperation on her face. Once again, she opened the door, closing it behind her softly.

She took in the room for a moment, taking note of anything that looked important and fragile. She didn’t want anything of Eda’s to break. Thankfully, nothing of the sort was in sight. She decided it was best to take her boots off at the door, putting them to the side neatly. She left her staff by the door as well, leaning against the wall. Her footsteps were padded by the dense carpet as she made her way to the couch, having to scoot around the giant feathery being that took up quite a bit of the room. She sat with a sigh, propping her elbow on her leg and resting her chin in her hand. For a moment she just watched Eda sleep, thinking.

She didn’t know a lot about Edalyn Clawthorne. Sure, they went to school together and were in the same track, but their interactions were minimal. At the time she was definitely one of the quiet kids. She largely kept to herself and was honestly afraid of being noticed, especially by her fellow students. To her, Eda was the most confusing person. Who would ever want to cause that much trouble on purpose? Who would want to have so many eyes on her, constantly watching and judging? She acted like it was nothing! Like it didn’t even matter what others thought of her. All she cared about was having fun and enjoying herself.

When she was younger, Niliana almost hated her for it. She went through her days doing everything within her power to avoid the other girl, actively taking routes through the halls that she was least likely to be in, walking away whenever she spotted the familiar splash of orange hair, all of that. She cringes now just thinking about it. She regretted so much of her childhood and one of her greatest regrets was not realizing just how much she actually admired Eda until she had already left. She regretted not reaching out and at least trying to be her friend.

Well, her Mama always said it’s better late than never.

She froze when the beast let out an odd sound, a soft chirping of some sort. She shifted in her spot, curling up a little more, before going still once more. It was a few more minutes before Niliana let herself relax. She realized it may be some time before Eda actually woke up. Owls were nocturnal creatures, after all, and she looked rather comfortable.

She waved her hand, forming a teal circle in the air. From the circle materialized a wooden box, settling in her lap. She opened it, rummaging through till she found what she was searching for, a large piece of fabric, one of the ones. Eda had gotten for her from the human realm. She found the needle she had also stashed away and got to work.

Sure, she could have made her stuffed animals with magic. She knew how well enough. But there was something about making something with her hands that relaxed her, the repeated motion of the needle moving through the fabric, watching something form from nothing but pieces of cloth. It made her swell to see the final product come out well, and she loved it even more to see others enjoy her cute little animals. It was the thought that something she so enjoyed making could bring joy to others as well.

It was a couple of hours later when she heard the front door open again. Luz poked her head through cautiously, looking uncertain. King was close behind her, looking just as uncertain. Nily sighed, putting her work away. She’d have to come back to it later. She got to her feet and made her way to the door, ushering the two away so she could actually get through the door.

“Is Eda really stuck like that for FIVE DAYS?!” Luz said almost immediately, clinging onto the witch’s arm. She looked like she was on the verge of tears, just staring up at Nily with her big brown eyes. The witch smiled kindly at her, giving the girl a hug. She clung to her shoulders, body shaking.

“Yes, she is,” Nily admitted. “But it’s not forever. Only a few days and she’ll be back. Until then, I know we can figure it out.” Luz nodded, stepping back and wiping at her eyes. “Hey.” The girl looked up to her again. “It’s going to be okay.” The girl smiled, reassured. Nily smiled back, ruffling her hair.

“Alright, you two.” Nily said, standing up a bit straighter with her hands on her hips. “Eda is still sleeping and probably will be till night. It’s probably best if we don’t wake her, so you can either stay outside or come inside and be very quiet. Once she does wake up, we’ll need to be very careful until we’re sure she’s not going to be attacking anybody. If she does try something, then I’ll … I’ll just have to trap her with my magic until we find a way to calm her down. Sound good?”

They both nodded, looking determined. She nodded back.

“Alright. I’m going back inside for now. I’ll probably be starting dinner soon, too, so don’t go too far.”

She headed back to the house, two pairs of footsteps following her a moment later. They all entered the house quietly. Nily sat back on the couch, taking out her wooden box once more. While she did that, King and Luz quietly watched the sleeping form of Eda’s owl form. A was a bit before they seemed to gain the courage to walk past her and head for the hallway past the far end of the couch.

“I’m going to do some homework.” Luz whispered. Nily nodded and watched the girl vanish into the hall. King looked like he was about to follow but stopped, glancing back to Eda, then to Nily, then back to the hall. In the end, he climbed onto the couch, curling up next to the witch for a good nap. She smiled softly at that, petting his back before taking out her project.

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

Eda stirred, giving a big yawn and stretching, her wings brushing against the sealing and claws digging into the carpet. She shook out her feathers, letting out a humming sound, and looked around, sniffing the air.

Home.

But there was a sound, odd and unfamiliar. There was an odd smell in the air, meaty and hot, and underneath the smell of another creature. She started growling.

Not safe! Intruder! Protect my home! Leave!

She followed the smell through the dark house, her fangs bared and a snarl in her throat. It was nearby, so close, but the room was shrouded in light, far too bright for her to see properly. She screeched at the bright light, shutting her eyes and shaking her head, but she refused to back up. She may not be able to see, but she could still smell the intruder easy enough and hear them move. They were backing up from her and she could almost taste the fear.

She snarled at them, taking a step forward. There wasn’t enough room in her current spot to attack properly. She could feel the walls against her wings even when they pressed close to her body. The intruder made a sound, soft and non-threatening, but Eda didn’t care. She just wanted them out!

She squeezed her way out of her tiny spot, into the open room where she could move better. It still wasn’t ideal, she couldn’t stretch her wings out properly, but she was in a much better position. She could easily pounce or swipe at them and that was enough.

For a moment she stayed frozen, body tense as she listened intently. She tried opening her eyes, just enough to squint at her surroundings. It was difficult, but she could just make out a dark shape that moved slightly. She lunged, hands coming down on the empty floor. She whipped around, searching. She could hear the stumbling footsteps to her side and swiped at the sound, snarling and screeching at it. She heard them stumble back with a yelp. They were moving farther away, towards the darker room.

She kept pushing them back. If she could get them in the dark, she could see her target better. It was almost too easy, but she was finally able to open her eyes without them burning. The room she had woken up in was covered in cool darkness and she could see the invader clearly. They were one of those two-legged creatures, the ones that seemed incapable of just leaving her alone.

Her ears twitched. She could hear more footsteps nearby, stomping and loud. She screeched, whipping around to face the new intruders, another slightly smaller two-legged creature and a tiny demon. It only took her a quick look over for her to decide they weren’t as much of a threat as the first intruder. So she turned back to them, body tensing to pounce.

There was a flash of light, a circle in the air and instinct told her that wasn’t good, that the circle spelled her doom. So she tried to pounce, to stop them, only to abruptly run into a wall. She growled and huffed, shaking her head, ready to attack again.

But she couldn’t.

Around her was an orb of light, tinting the world a shade of teal. She was trapped.

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

Niliana let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding. Well, that was certainly something.

“Nily!”

Luz and King ran to her, wrapping their arms around her. Well, King did his best but ended up hugging her leg instead. She hugged them back.

“It’s okay guys, I’m fine.” She reassured them. “Eda’s fine, too.”

On cue, they heard the owl beast screech and turned to see her trying to fight against her bubble prison. She stopped struggling after a few moments, glaring at them with her big black eyes.

“I think I’ll just leave her in there for a little bit. We can see if she’s calmed down after dinner.”

“We can try feeding her!” Luz offered, eyes shining.

“Mmmm, maybe. We’ll see if she’s calmed down first.”

“Is something burning?” King interrupted them. Nily sighed.

“Probably. I left dinner on the stove.”

She left to finish that, leaving the other two to do whatever they chose to do. They ended up staying in the living room for only a few moments before following her into the kitchen. The owl beast in a bubble was definitely an odd sight, one King was more than happy to poke fun at, but ultimately they decided her best chance at calming down would be leaving her alone for now.

Dinner that night was probably the best they had in quite a while. As much as they loved Eda, she was not much of a cook. King was shoveling the food, some sort of meat and vegetable concoction, straight into his mouth, the fork lying forgotten on the table. Luz wasn’t much better, but at least she used utensils. The girl went on and on about her day at school, excitedly recounting an incident where an abomination went rogue. Her arms flung about as she retold the story, almost hitting King in her excitement several times. Each time he made a noise of annoyance.

Nily did her best to listen, but truthfully her mind was elsewhere. She could still hear Eda in the other room, huffing and chittering to herself, probably still attempting to escape her confinement. She had absolutely no idea how she was supposed to get through to her. She had thought she would have at least the vaguest of ideas when she saw how exactly Eda acted in this form, but nope. In this moment she really wished she had bothered at least a little bit of beast keeping. Maybe she should visit the library tomorrow and check out a few books. Of course, that didn’t help with tonight.

King finished first, but he was determined not to go into the living room alone, so he waited until Luz was done. And Luz didn’t want to go until Niliana was done and could go with them. So, they all went in together. The lights turned on as they entered the room.

Eda laid still in her bubble, looking rather downtrodden. It appeared that she had given up on the whole escape thing. Her eyes were on them the moment they left the kitchen, her fangs bared at them. Niliana sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. She really hadn’t expected her day to turn out like this. She stared at the creature who stared right back. She seemed to dislike her the most, which was at least a little comforting. It meant that she wouldn’t go after Luz or King first.

“She’s not calm enough yet.” Nily decided.

“So, what do we do? Eda can’t just stay in a bubble for five days!” Luz looked up to her for answers. So, she thought. They needed Eda to at least withstand their presence.

“Maybe we should try … just spending some time around her.” Niliana said. “Maybe if she just got use to us being around then she can just ignore us.”

“I had some glyphs I wanted to practice! Hold on!” She rushed off, stumbling up the stairs, no doubt to collect her work. Thankfully, Niliana had her own stuff to work on as well. She sat on the couch and got her box back out. King jumped onto the couch by her side, watching her get all her supplies out.

“Soooo…” He piped up. “Whatcha making? A minion of evil?!”

“It’s going to be an owl.”

King scoffed.

“That doesn’t look anything like an owl! Where's its wings? Or its feet?”

“I’m not yet. This is just the head. I just need to finish attaching the beak then I can sew on the eyes.”

“Wait, that’s just the head!” King said, astonished. The bundle of fabric she had was almost as big as King’s own head! Nily just nodded.

“I haven’t made something this big in a while.” She admitted.

It was around then that they could hear Luz stomping back down the stairs, running into the living room with a bright smile and her arms full of papers. She dropped them on the floor, plopping herself next to the couch.

“Watch this!” She said, grabbing a piece of paper and drawing a glyph on it. She gave it a tap and the paper crumbled into itself, morphing into a ball of light. Nily gave an impressed “huh”. She didn’t even know humans could do magic. Though, it made sense. Eda wouldn’t have taken her on as an apprentice if she didn’t think it was possible.

King tugged on Nily’s shirt.

“Hey, hey, look at Eda!” he said, giggling to himself.

Eda was staring intently at the ball of light, enraptured by the shiny orb. She gave a curious little chirp, squishing her face into her bubble to try and get closer. Luz laughed at the sight and Nily couldn’t help but let out her own little chuckle.

“Do owls like shiny things?” She pondered. King just shrugged.

“I don’t know, but Eda does!”

She thought that over as Luz made a few more balls of lights, looking delighted as Eda chirped and followed each orb with her black eyes, their light reflected in the inky depths. Finally, she nodded to herself.

“I think I’m gonna let her go now.” She warned the others as she drew a circle in the air. They didn’t really have time to respond before the bubble silently popped, dropping the owl beast to the floor with a soft thump. For a moment, they all tensed up, waiting to see what Eda would do.

She let out a coo, ruffling her feathers and shaking her head. She turned those inky black eyes to the three of them, head tilted to the side. It looked like she was thinking, face scrunching up. She got to her feet, taking a step towards them and sniffing the air. For a moment she just stared, eyes roaming from one to the next. Finally, what seemed like hours later but was probably just seconds, she turned away from them, her attention drawn back to the balls of light. She batted at one of them, letting out a little coo.

Everyone relaxed, the tension in the air dissolving. Luz smiled up at Niliana, eyes shimmering with the threat of tears. She didn’t say anything but the witch understood, smiling back.

Everything was going to be okay.

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missskzbiased · 3 years

Text

The Three Lessons

Genre: Angst, Romance, Fluff (Hm…), Witch! Au, Love Triangle

Pairing: Chan X Fem! Reader X Seungmin

Word Count: ~5,1K

(The First) (The Second) (The Third)

Warnings: (Mild) Mentions of [Death, Burned Witches, Torture, Poisoning]

Reminder: I’m not a witch and do not have knowledge of any kind about the matter in modern days. It’s mere fantasy writing. It’s not intended to reflect Neopaganism since I’m not versed in it.

Notes: Reference to Songs: “The River Is Flowing” (Lindie Lila) [I modified the lyrics to fit my need] and “The Ghost of Pagan Song” (Donovan)

Updates: I’m writing the 2nd Chap yet. As soon as I finish it and review it, I’ll post it.

Tagging: Please, send me an ask/DM me if you wish to be tagged

////

CHAPTER 1: The First Lesson

There are only three lessons you should never forget, kiddo…

The voice faded away like a thin fog vanishing from your view, and you couldn’t help but wonder why your sub-conscience felt the urge to remind you about it every single day of your life. You fluttered your fingers ─intertwined on top of your chest─ beginning to regain your consciousness over your body, feeling every inch of your form wake up along with your mind before you slowly opened your eyes to fix your gaze on the ceiling.

At the age of seventeen, you should be used to have this same dream over and over again ─ as if your brain was some kind of broken parrot, who couldn’t stop replaying it on your mind every night ─ but you weren’t, and you didn’t really feel like you would ever be.

The ceiling looked like the usual: Woody and leafy, as you liked to define.

You didn’t need to look around to know exactly what it looked like because, for seventeen years of your life, you woke up in the exact same spot. You lived in the exact same place. You interacted with the exact same people. You lived the exact same life. You had the exact same dream. You heard the exact same voice. You learned exactly… Well, at least you learned different things over your life.

And again, none of those answered your questions.

You felt your sweat dripping slowly from your forehead; all your body burnt as if you were baking something all day long ─ except you weren’t ─, and at this point, you weren’t even surprised anymore. Every day you woke up like this: Dripping sweat and burning fever.

The Coven swore to you that you weren’t sick.

It was just Nature manifesting itself.

You never saw Nature manifesting like this on any of your fellow members.

You knew it had something to do with your dream but you couldn’t completely understand it. The scenes were blurry ─just like when you’re crying and the tears make it impossible to discern anything before your eyes ─, and the voices that surrounded you were loud and incomprehensive enough to confuse you to the core. The only thing you could really point out was that at the center of whatever place it was and surrounded by the crowd, something was consumed by the flames.

It was easy enough to assume that something had a name…

It was only logical to assume that the voices resumed the existence of that something ─ who was indeed a someone ─ in the only thing they could understand; chanting it in a tone filled with hatred and fear… You could only assume that the nameless figure who was engulfed by the flames ─ the only discernable thing in your dream, a bright orange-ish dance that emanated all the warmth that you felt burn your body at night─ was being called a witch.

Just like you.

You couldn’t even count the times you woke up afraid of being that nameless figure burning down on that stake… You couldn’t even count the times that you prayed for Nature to protect you like She had protected so many of yours… You couldn’t even count the times that you wished your undiscovered power wasn’t premonitory… You couldn’t even count the times you asked for The Elders to take this away from you.

Yet, They couldn’t.

Nature wants you to live with it, They said.

Pretty convenient.

“Do you need me to throw cold water on you or will you raise that butt by yourself?” The door shoot open as the old lady ─ also known as your grandma─ opened all the windows with a flick of her hand. The wood slammed on more wood, sounding loud and clear into your head, and all the brightness of the day got to your eyes, hurting them “I’ll give you three seconds!” She chanted, walking around the space, and picking up things around.

She was loud as hell.

You would expect an old lady like her to be really slow and quiet, maybe feel a lot of pain and complain a lot.

Actually, one of those could be checked.

She complained a whole lot.

“And three!” She snapped her fingers.

You felt the mattress whip under you ─ twitching in a way that projected your body out of it─, making you yelp as your body raised in the air, limbs floundering around as you waited for her to do something to prevent you from falling to the ground. You raised your voice as you yelled, eyes widening and heart bursting out in your chest, feeling despair wash over you as your body began to make its way to the ground.

“And two!” She snapped her fingers again, sounding giggly as she did it, and you made a mental note to make a hell out of her life by the end of the day.

The vines that hung from your ceiling came to life, tangling over your limbs to pick you up right before you hit the ground. They lifted your body enough to get you to her eye level, and she grinned at you, looking harmless as her eyes molded into crescents. You shot her a scorn grimace, waiting for her to give the order, so the vines would peacefully place you to the ground. She took one step back, taking the bucket she had under her arms and smiling brightly at you before snapping her finger, a coil of fluids forming of thin air to fill it up.

Oh, boy.

“And one!” She sang before jolting the bucket and hitting your face with cold water. You shut your eyes, mouth agape as you felt the drops rolling down your face, the cold feeling penetrating your skull and waking you up completely “Let’s go, we have a lot to do today!” She dropped the bucket with a loud thud before clapping her hands twice, turning her back to you and heading to the door.

“A little hand here?!” You yelled as she disappeared from your view, and her head came back into your view, peeking over the doorframe slyly. You waved your arms in the air, gesticulating to yourself and tightening your lips, suggestively looking at her, so she would realize you were still stuck on there.

“Oh, right!” She chuckled dismissively “Vivi, let her go, Sweetheart!” She said friendly, and the vines ─ Vivi, as they were called─ promptly dropped you to the ground. You hit the floor with a loud thud, arms preventing your face to smash on the floor, raising your head to glare at your grandmother.

“Really?!” You whined, yelling so she could hear you after disappearing again behind the doorframe. You rolled over your back, watching as the vines retracted to the ceiling, adorning the wooden beam there “Well, thank you, Vivi!” You sneered but they didn’t give you any attention, tangling over the wood and resting peacefully.

“What is all that commotion?” You tilted your head back, taking into your view an upside down Chan framed by the door “Again?” He giggled, dimples digging his face as he approached you, extending his hand for you to take. You took it gratefully, standing up with his help and dusting off your clothes, trying to look presentable enough.

The blond warlock didn’t seem to mind your soaked self or your sticky hair to your face, keeping his smile as if he didn’t even notice the mess you looked like right now. He ruffled your wet hair, chuckling as you shrank embarrassed, before he raised his index finger, spinning it around. The warm and soft air jet that twirled from his fingertip slowly dried out your hair and clothes, and you took the opportunity to fix them once again.

“This is so cool!” He chirped “I never thought I would have this honor” He sighed, satisfied.

Chan was an expert among the few Warlocks you had at The Coven. It was general knowledge that magic manifestation in natural forms ─ such as elemental spells ─ was uncommon for Warlocks but there he was, playing with the warm air. No one believed him when ─ at the age of nineteen, only halfway through his witchcraft studies ─ Chan said he learned to use some basic air spells.

It had been a week and he had yet to grow used to the idea.

Although some of the others related his abilities to the fact that he was the grandson of The Airy Elder, you didn’t agree with them. None of the others could make spells, and some of the Warlocks, such as Changbin, were grandsons of other Founders too. The fact was that Chan had a pure soul; pure enough for Nature herself to grant him the honor to hold her power.

You may be a little biased, though.

“First, stop flattering yourself!” You joked, pushing him lightly, getting a giggle out of him “Second, I was totally going to get up!” You defended yourself, which he dismissed with a knowing look that made you blush. You cleared your throat ─ a vain attempt to hide how your heart drummed inside your chest ─, feeling embarrassment wash over you at the mere thought of your painfully obvious crush being there for anyone to see.

It was especially uncomfortable to know that Chan had a great hearing.

The young Warlock specialty was to hear the soul and heart’s voices.

At this point, you could just deafen him just by your heartbeat.

“Oh?” He blurted out, arching his brows as he shot a look to the ceiling. You followed his gaze to meet a small bird flying around in a spiral right on top of you two. He extended his finger in a twig-like gesture that invited the tiny creature to approach him, which it did. The bird landed on his finger, fleeting and tilting its head to glance at both of you, blinking rapidly. You stared at it curiously, tilting your head to the side, and it funnily mimicked you.

Stop flirting around and come help me, you ungrateful child!

You rolled your eyes when your Grandma’s voice sounded through its opened beak, embarrassed. Chan seemed to find it funny enough, though, because soon he was in stitches, holding his stomach as his laughter sounded like jingling bells. The bird flew off right after, startled by his sudden motion, letting you and the amused boy by yourselves once more.

He recomposed himself, wiping a tear from his eyes and chuckling before looking softly at you and gesture to the door, accompanying you out of the cottage. You closed the door behind you ─ rubbing your arm awkwardly as you averted your eyes ─, trying to figure something cool to say that could cover up all the embarrassing moments before. He took it in the wrong way, though, taking off his coat and covering your shoulders with it, throwing you a warm smile.

“Oh, no! There is no need for such a thing!” You rushed to say, trying to take out his clothes. He grabbed your shoulders, squeezing them lightly before chuckling. You glanced at him coyly and he patted your shoulders, fixing his gaze somewhere behind you before leaning closer to your ear, his breathy giggle fluttering some hair strands on your temples.

“Keep it… Who knows how many surprises she holds for you?” He whispered, turning you around to look at your impatient Grandma, tapping her foot on the ground. He pushed you lightly, waving goodbye when you threw a look over your shoulder before picking up your pace to reach the upset Elder.

/////

The trees' crown rustled, allowing the thin light beams to dance on the ground.

The gleam caught your eyes for a split of a second, bringing a content smile to your face as you felt the warmth of the woods impregnate your body; the blowing wind inciting you to spin around with the dancing trees. You fluttered your limbs in a dainty motion ─ spiraling once while feeling the breeze dance along with you ─, connecting yourself with every single living creature around for just a brief moment, enough to bring you to tears.

The moment was overwhelming and you felt your heart swell before the gentle breeze and calming tune that came from the deepest parts of the woods shattered in small pieces right before you. The silence that came along was overbearing. It was like every single one of the creatures mourned and yet gloated, choosing to retire themselves for a while; a suffocating hollowness falling to the woods.

The sudden gale hit you like a slap, pushing your body backward before spiraling around you ─ and you around ─, bringing altogether thousands of voices that didn’t seem to belong to anyone, and yet seemed to belong to everything. You shot your head up, eyes roaming around the woods as you tried to spot whoever was the source of such powers, but meeting no one to the sight. The whispers resounded in your mind, bewildering you, and the mix of voices buzzed to your ears before dying out gradually.

Nature allows you to be who you truly are… Never turn your back on her

The First Lesson was chanted by a soft voice brought by the wind, a voice that soon enough fell silent again; just like the woods. You roamed your eyes around ─ urging to make sense out of the suspicious situation ─, noticing how the animals hid far from the sight, a less than best-case-scenario for your hunting.

The silence was broken once more by the wind itself, a sourceless yowling blown into your ears, making you snap your eyes to the side, startled. Once again, no one was in sight. You had this odd feeling in your gut, like an intruder just came into your home, and the bitterness that grew on your tongue prompted you to grunt, sharp eyes darting between the trees.

“Reveal yourself!” You demanded, head swiveling but meeting nothing but the forest before you. The wind blew again, whispering through the leaves, and this time you followed its flow cautiously, eyes attentive to every single flutter you caught in the way. It faded away just like this, without a path for you to follow, and you groaned in frustration.

What ─ in the name of the Goddess ─ was happening here?

“H-Help…” Your ears perked up, eyes shooting to your left “P-please…” It was a small voice, undoubtedly owned by a human, and the realization made you shiver. You closed your eyes for a few seconds, sighing as you pondered what to do. Should you pretend you didn’t hear it?

The wind blew again, violent, as a not so silent warning.

You tsked, sighing before slinking through the trees for a few minutes until you spotted the boy on the ground, curled up. He seemed to be young ─maybe around your age─, dark hair stuck to his sweaty skin and eyes unfocused, roaming around. There was no doubt that his intoxicated figure ─pale skin, delusional eyes, and dry lips─ were caused by the one thing that had your hands tied: The River.

As much as you pitied his agonizing end, he deserved it.

You would never forget the day when all of the younger ones ─ such as yourself─ joined to ask The Elders why you couldn’t go into the woods like the older witches and warlocks, upset that you couldn’t do anything for The Coven.

You would never forget the way your Grandma looked at you ─ letting the pain wash over her features right in front of your eyes─ before averting her gaze to the horizon, a stern and distant self that seemed to look directly to the past as if she could see everything unraveling right before her eyes.

“The Humans… They were cruel to us” You remembered her saying “They tortured us over the years in ways that I wouldn’t dare to tell you kids in details… The Coven is protecting you from them and you should listen to us because no one else out there will care for you as we do” Her answer wasn’t satisfactory for any of you, so you whined, prepared to make a commotion. She stomped the ground ─a loud roar echoing from under her foot─ and looked at each of you with a steel-cold gaze.

“Take a look at those” She raised her feet, exposing burn scars all over the sole, making all of you gasp in unison “I was captured by The Humans ages ago… Before The Coven was even founded... I and tons of other witches were tortured for being what we are… Women. They hate us and persecute us. They wanted us dead…”

“They restrained us to the point we couldn’t feel our own blood running through our veins… The blood that connects us to this Nature… Some of us lost our hands or our feet… Some of us lost our lives at this point… It didn’t really matter to them” The pause revealed a suffocating silence but none of you dared to interrupt her rewind, keeping your breaths withhold “The ones who survived were already deprived of water, food, or light… We had only ourselves, our voices, our hope, and our faith with us. We didn’t even have clothes, as they stripped us and let us freeze to death. Some of us did. Some of us didn’t”

“The ones that still survived all that were beaten up to the ground… Battered to the point they couldn’t even bear to stand up and fell dead right there, in front of our eyes… I wish I could say it was just it… Just once… They selected some of us to go to the woods, to let us have the chance to survive” She scoffed, looking away “The ones that weren’t selected were allowed to drink some water before going through all that over again… And again… And again… They had us for about three weeks” Her eyes teared up, and you still had the urge to cry until today whenever you remembered her broken voice.

“When my time to go to the woods came, I discovered we weren’t simply thrown in the woods… No, we had to bear with our bare feet the red-hot soil under tender skin… Dehydrated… Starved… Ruined… I almost wished they could only burn me down at the stake. They didn’t. All of the survivors were marked for their lives… Not only here” She pointed out to her temples “But in a way that they could identify us in the future…” She raised her feet.

“They said the ones who survived were witches and the ones who didn’t weren’t… So we couldn’t have any winners. It didn’t matter if you survived or not. It didn’t matter if we were witches or not. All of us somehow deserved to be dead…” She looked at you filled with sadness and regret before she averted her eyes, ashamed “They even poisoned the river… They knew the first thing we would do was to look for water, drink to relieve the dryness of our soul and body… And so did tons of us… Especially the younger or the least experienced ones… The exhausted souls that couldn’t think of purifying the water anymore… Who couldn’t handle it” She sighed, lowering her head “All dead”

It wasn’t out of vanity that The Coven enchanted the river.

The first thing they thought you at the age of fourteen was how to purify water so it would be safe to drink from the river; so you wouldn’t be killed by the cruelness that flowed through its waters if they ever did it again. The enchantments and spells threw all around the place were the only way to protect all of you from them… The only way you could afford to have somewhere to survive. The only way that you could be yourselves.

If it meant the death of some meddling humans… Let it be.

They killed you enough for regret to wash over your souls.

The River now was a symbol of your rebellion, of your power and urges to live… It was also the symbol of all the deceased witches you had because of their cruelties. It was the blood that ran through your veins. It was the magic that imbued your souls and body.

The magic that ran through the body of this unaware guy struggling right in front of your eyes… The magic you couldn’t undo even if you wanted to…. He was a lost cause. You turned your back to him, ready to go back to your hunting and leave him behind, but one broken sentence was enough to make you stumble over your feet.

“I don’t want to die all alone…” He cried, holding his throat tightly in despair.

Never turn your back on her…

You sighed before approaching him, sitting right beside him before taking his hand into yours. He shot his eyes at you, startled at the sudden presence, and you made your best to throw him a gentle smile even though you could see his face slowly swelling up as he suffocated right in front of your eyes.

“The river is flowing… Flowing and growing… The river is flowing down to the sea…” You chanted, caressing his hair gently “Mother, carry him… Your child He’ll always be… Mother, carry him… Down to the sea…” You wiped his sweat, opening your canteen to give him some water to placate his thirst, wetting your hand before carefully rubbing your palms over his face.

You could feel how the woods sang along with you, the soft rustles of the leaves following your tune, and birds tweeting to the rhythm. You felt your heart swelling, connecting to your surroundings once again, and even his heartbeat seemed to sing along with Nature for a split of a second.

The attuned orchestra was interrupted by his muttering ─ soft voice under his breath─, something impossible to comprehend that made you nod anyway. You kept your smile firm on your lips to reassure him in his last moments, hoping that Nature could have some mercy on him. He tried to hum along with you ─ like he was tempted to pray before his end but could only follow your lead ─, and even though his rattling lungs couldn’t keep up with your chant, you slowed down a bit, getting a single grateful tear from his eyes.

The emotional moment was broken by his strangled gasps ─a desperate attempt to breathe normally─, and you made sure to avert your eyes to look straight ahead. You shouldn’t witness his moment of weakness like this. You squeezed his hand to reassure him, to remind him that he wouldn’t die by himself, and as soon as he squeezed back ─ as strong as he could, trying to get your attention─, you obliged yourself to return your gaze to him.

“K-Kim Seungmin” He struggled to say, sharp intakes of breath hinting he wouldn’t last much longer.

“I’ll let your family know” You lied, bringing his head to your lap so he could feel more comfortable, allowing a little bit of air to get to his lungs. He tried to nod, and you averted your eyes again, looking into the woods to distract yourself.

And distracted you got.

The scene that met your eyes was, to say the least, amusing; your Grandma strode in your way, staff floundering in the air as she approached the guy in a rush. She took a look at him, musing before shoving some herbs inside his mouth out of nowhere, gripping his jaw in a way to force him to munch it.

You looked at her startled but utterly ignored as she snapped her fingers over and over again.

“Come on, young man” She said in her best elder lady voice you had ever heard “Gulp it down so you won’t die” She instructed, snapping her fingers to get his attention. Except it wasn’t the case. You could almost feel the frisson around his body as she kept snapping it over and over again, drawing circles in the air. The heavy layer of magic covered him like a blanket.

He gulped down before you heard a sharp intake of breath ─ one that signalized he could really breathe right now─ and he gasped, again and again, feeling the air burn his lungs as he coughed for dear life. His torso snapped up, hand meeting his throat as he tried to recompose himself, practically back from the dead, eyes roaming around the place.

The purple that once painted his face dissolved into a more healthy color and flushed cheeks. You took a better look at his face, warm brown hair hiding his forehead and dark eyes that were big as saucers for the moment, completely taken aback by his luck. He had just survived. He opened his mouth a couple of times, and you couldn’t help but notice how red his lips were right now, and also exceptionally well-shaped.

“Don’t talk right now” She advised, taking the canteen from your hand “Drink this… You must be thirsty” She said kindly, adjusting the object so she could allow him to drink some of the water inside it. He took large gulps, eyes overflowing with relief before he had enough strength to raise his hand to the canteen and stop her motions.

“I don’t know how to express my gratefulness for both of you” He said sincerely “I own you my life” He was quick to kneel, lowering his head in respect, one arm bending on his back and the other one rested on top of his knee. You extended your hand, ready to dismiss the unnecessary formality, but your Grandma seemed to think otherwise.

“You do” She agreed, standing up and supporting herself on her wood staff, like an elder. You almost scoffed at her antics but a single twist of her feet made you shut your mouth, the hard inaudible pang on your ass making you think twice before disrespecting her “Unfortunately, I may have to take some of it from you” She smiled apologetically.

She acted before you could even understand what she had just said.

The staff was raised to strike his stomach in a quick motion ─ so quick that he couldn’t help but hunch his back, hands over his stomach as he huffed in astonishment ─ before her hand covered his face to push his head to the ground, tipping him over.

“What strings are plucked beneath the mound? Awake the seeds to break the ground” She chanted, hand gripping his head firmly. You could see his right eye widen, peeking between her long fingers, mouth opening to scream for help. She jerked his head once, the sudden movement silenced him, and as you watched the scene with your mouth agape ─ utterly startled─, you noticed how his eyelashes fluttered close, hinting he was under a sleeping spell.

“Grandma, what are you doing?” You hissed, looking around the woods as if Nature herself would come to punish both of you.

She raised her other hand in a sharp movement, signalizing that you should keep quiet. You shut your mouth, pursing your lips to make sure not a sound would drop from you. It didn’t prevent you from stretching your neck, trying to get a better look at whatever was happening right in front of your eyes.

The scene before your eyes had your head tilting.

You never saw an enchantment like this.

You watched as strings of translucent energy oozed from his ears, slowly drenching the ground underneath his head in a spiral that seemed to fuzz the grass. The delicate flutters of her free hand seemed to hasten the energy flow, and soon enough she released his head, fluttering her fingers as if she was seasoning him. The mere thought of the unconscious boy being treated like a roasted chicken made you chuckle, and she shot you a glare to keep you quiet.

“No question asked… No answer found” She continued, and the energy coiled to the ground, knotting there before a small flower gradually sprouted, “Young man, now list to me…” She snapped her fingers, and all the fuzzing you felt around vanished. She caressed his head, thumbs running through his cheeks “It’s all a strange dream; don’t worry too much about this… It was really dangerous to fall asleep in the woods, wasn’t it? They should be worried about you by now…” She sighed, getting up and gesticulating for you to follow her.

You straightened up, prepared to obey without a question.

A sudden breeze made you shiver and you stared at the boy on the ground, musing for a second before taking Chan’s coat from your shoulders and covering him up. You threw a look over your shoulder to check up on him as you rushed to your Grandma, watching his asleep form snoring peacefully in the middle of the woods, resting next to a tree as if he was in a secure field. When you finally got on her tracks, you threw her a look, clearing your throat before voicing your thoughts.

“Shouldn’t we wake him up? He could be eaten by a wolf…” You pointed out but she kept her pace, waving her hand dismissively.

“He’s not our problem anymore” She shrugged, walking fast “Furthermore, it’s not the time for his death yet…” You narrowed your eyes at her, humming in wonder.

“Was that why you meddled?” You asked curiously, and she finally glanced at you over her shoulder, pursing her lips “I never thought you would save a human” You admitted.

“My mission is to respect Nature… If Nature herself wants this young man alive, I’m not the one to go against her wishes” She declared, intending to drop the subject. You hummed again, and before you could open your mouth, she cleared her throat “I thought it was clear that neither of you should approach a human until the age of eighteen” She stated matter-of-factly.

“I’m just a few months away…” You rolled your eyes before grinning “Also, I thought the first lesson of The Coven was to never turn our back to Nature… As you said, Nature herself didn’t want the young man to die” She scoffed, amused by your retort “Who am I to go against her wishes?” You chuckled, noticing how she shook her head in disbelief, though it was clear she found it funny.

“Don’t forget the other ones” She muttered seriously before snapping her fingers twice, probably releasing the poor boy from the sleeping spell.

////

I won’t lie to you all, I’m really excited about this SUHAHUSAHUSASHUAUS It’s the first time I’ll be writing any kind of fantasy stuff. I have the general plot in my mind and I may be dropping some hints to make some kind of spin off if people like it or if I feel like it in the future lol

I really hope you guys like it!

Any feedback is more than welcomed, especially vocabulary and stuff like this. Feel free to criticize me (just do this in a constructive way, please LOL)

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chalkrevelations · 3 years

Text

Episode 31 of Word of Honor, and in many ways OH MY GOD YES, but also, no, show, wtf?

As in, wt actual f is going on? Literally, what is happening?

(Spoilers, so scroll away and come back later, if you need to.)

So, first thing’s first: I feel like this one may end up a bit short, because a lot of it is likely to be just a bunch of keysmash flailing? (EDIT: No, I just came back up here to the top from the bottom, because this is NOT AT ALL any shorter than usual.) I’ll attempt a bit more than exclamation points and worry over whether my poor heart is able to take this, but we’ll see how it goes, because the first thing I’m going to do is say I knew it! and I told you so! I knew you weren’t planning to die, Zhou Zishu. I did call you a liar after Ep 30, and I was right. I mean, what’s the point of having the terrifying master of the Ghost Valley as your boyfriend husband if he’s not going to rescue you after you’ve been kidnapped for attempted ravishment by the evil prince? And get you the best wedding present ever, i.e., a bunch of new disciples? Omg, Zhou Zishu’s face when Wen Kexing finally calls himself a disciple of Four Seasons Manor! (I think he’s so overwhelmed, he doesn’t even realize when WKX calls him “shixiong” a minute before that!) Wen Kexing’s tiny pained smile that he just can’t seem to help when ZZS lays his hand on WKX’s head! That long shuddering breath ZZS lets out, and the way his shoulders just drop, like he’s finally let go of a huge weight! (The worry this brings me, because there are five and a half episodes left, my dude, and your husband is a troublemaker, and I would not be getting complacent, if I was you.) The fact that WKX has knelt to ZZS and called him zongzhu in front of the Ghost Valley contingent – there’s gotta be some political implications to that. Horseback riding! The way WKX keeps holding (up) ZZS! Lol at WKX being all, you all can leave now, we can take our honeymoon alone from here! ZZS knew he would come (I told you so)! Their smiles! Their soft little faces! (Merciless killers! How so fucking adorable?) The hairpin! MARRIED, Y’ALL. Censorship? I don’t know her. ANYWAY, that’s all just a bunch of flailing reaction to the first almost 20 minutes of emoporn. Also, Zhang Zhehan, you should not do suffering so pretty. It makes me feel like a bad person for still enjoying your face so much when your character is in so much physical and emotional distress.

Secondly, show. We need to talk. You should not be this opaque. I’m trying to piece together everything that’s happened in (vaguely) chronological order:

Sometime before dying (before breaking his heart meridians?), Han Ying tells Wen Kexing about the Four Seasons Remnants back with Prince Jin. All of Ep 30 happens, with Zhou Zishu and Xie Wang both making a mess of Awful Prince’s/Yifu’s plans. Xie Wang, the rest of the Scorpions, and the Ghost Valley team retreat back to a lair. Which lair? Who knows, at this point. Cao Weining talks to Fan Shishu. (He explicitly tells this to A-Xiang.) But does he also confront Mo Huaiyang? Because I feel like it must be significant that we get the same turn of phrase to describe Zhao Jing’s relationship with Xie Wang – asking a tiger for its skin – from Mo Huaiyang to Fan Shishu, and then attributed to Cao Weining when A-Xiang quotes it to WKX in the same ep. The show even emphasizes this for us to catch by drawing attention to A-Xiang’s use of it via her struggle to remember the idiom properly. (A. This episode’s convo between Mo Huaiyang and Fan Shishu, which is when we see Mo Huaiyang actually use the idiom, happens AFTER Cao Weining and Gu Xiang leave Gentle Wind Sword Sect. I went back and checked, and it is Mo Huaiyang who uses it, not Fan Shishu. B. In this same convo, Fan Shishu says he still needs to explain all this to the disciples somehow, so C. Was there a prior, unseen convo between just Cao Weining and Mo Huaiyang in which Mo Huaiyang practiced his excuses on poor, hapless Cao Weining first?)

Anyway, Cao Weining then goes to A-Xiang, who’s lit. and fig. in the dark at this point, in her rustic cabin outside the gated community. I notice Cinnamon Roll already has his bag packed. He is done. He lays out the current political web, and A-Xiang seems pretty sure of Liu Qianqiao’s ultimate loyalty to WKX. This is probably important in what happens next. Gu Xiang and Cao Weining decide to run away and elope but then … get captured and taken to the lair. On purpose? A-Xiang did see Liu Qianqiao with Xie Wang in the Secret Cave, standing shoulder to shoulder with Du Pusa as an apparent top-tier henchwoman, and she probably expects to be protected, but this seems like a pretty big gamble. I suppose you don’t survive the Ghost Valley without learning to take some risks. A-Xiang then leads Xie Wang and the Ghost Valley contingent to WKX (at burned-down Four Seasons Manor?) to, she says, let WKX take down Xie Wang. She notes Xie Wang’s use of some potion to control everyone – I assume the Drug Man potion, and I assume the monthly antidote is what’s keeping everyone in the Ghost Valley from going full Drug Man?

WKX and Xie Wang confer in secret. Probably about how much they both hate Awful Yifu. I mean, I assume Xie’er still hates Awful Yifu at this point, but who knows what tomorrow will bring? Probably a key point here: WKX is hiding whatever this was about from his husband. My dude, why are you still like this? I guess that explains the pained cast to that tiny little smile earlier. WKX then takes some of the Ghost Valley contingent and coordinates with the Four Seasons Remnants back in Prince Jin’s territory to rescue ZZS. Husband safely rescued, WKX now heads back to Ghost Valley, to … abdicate? He promises A-Xiang he’s going to come back safely, and my dude, I’m trying to believe you. I really am. I’m trying to have as much faith in you planning to be back all along as I had in ZZS not planning to die in Jin Palace all along, but here’s a key difference: HE LET YOU IN ON HIS PLAN. Which you were a key part of. I find your secrecy, by contrast, concerning.

Other things:

Love the little moment between Gu Xiang and Liu Qianqiao and Luo Fumeng when Beauty Ghost and Tragicomic Ghost turn to Xie Wang in righteous indignation and want to know what the fuck he thinks he’s doing to their little girl. Compare the reaction of these two moms to Happy Ghost being all, “Nope, this is a complete and total in with Wen Kexing right here in a pretty pink dress.” The show continues to draw a fairly bright line between the characterization of the women in the Department of the Unfaithful - who are terrorizing certain people, true, but also watching out for each other after ending up down on their luck – and the general run of men in Ghost Valley, who are basically rotten sociopaths straight out of Batman’s rogues gallery and will sell you out in a minute for their own gain. Yes, this has been made fairly explicit in Wen Kexing’s and A-Xiang’s commentary in past eps and later in this ep about trying to get the Department of the Unfaithful out of the line of fire while not caring if the jianghu burns down the rest of Ghost Valley, but this isn’t just favoritism or a whim, just some fond memories of Luo Fumeng being kind to them a couple of times in the past. I think there’s some commentary here on the kind of men who are so far gone they find themselves outside the bounds of “civilized” society and the kind of women who do – how much easier and quicker it is for a woman, that it could be any woman in the wrong circumstances, and how much further gone a man has to be than a woman to be considered a “devil.” We’ve seen these supportive interpersonal relationships among the women since Gu Xiang “adopted” her two girls in the first handful of episodes and told off Lovelace with the threat of Tragicomic Ghost – and the show is continuing to show it, not just tell it. It’s one of the things I’ve found frustrating about Wen Kexing a couple of times in past eps, when he’s trying to get A-Xiang’s two girls, or other women from the Department, to just leave and go do something else – I feel like even though WKX realizes their circumstances and their personalities are different from the rest of his Top Ten Devils, he’s not fully comprehending that they literally have nowhere else to go, that if they had any other options, they wouldn’t have ended up there in the first place. He called the two girls “puppies” when he talked about A-Xiang having to take care of them, but as Ghost Valley master, who’s enforced the independence of and protections for the Department of the Unfaithful, he’s walking away from his own basketful of puppies. Not to mention, this is one of the vanishingly small places in this particular version of the jianghu that we’ve seen women have any autonomy and power. I … think there may have been a few young female cultivators in Yueyang Sect, but while I’d have to go back and watch to be sure, I remember the Hero’s Conference being a whole bunch of men throwing their … weight around. Anyway, I also love that it looks like A-Xiang tries to kick Happy Ghost in the shin, because of course she does.

Visually, they had a cool thing going on there with the Tian Chuang behind WKX falling in concert with WKX lowering his fan, but they didn’t quite coordinate it enough, and then they cut away too soon. Bah. It was set up to be a very cool visual, if only they had committed to it. Meanwhile Duan Pengju, this asshole, omg. He’s trying to pull off the Collar of Evil and is not succeeding. Srsly, his Collar of Evil is droopy. It doesn’t stop him from monologuing like he’s the actual villain and not some sad-sack lackey. You showed the correct amount of amused disdain during your interaction, but I can’t believe you left him alive at the end of it, Wen Kexing.

I wasn’t really feeling Jing Beiyuan and Wu Xi up until this ep when Jing Beiyuan was teasing A-Xiang about her lack of shame over running away with her lover. OK, fine, you can stay, Qi Ye. Also, wow. Speaking of lack of shame, I can’t believe you just accused your husband of bride kidnapping right in front of everyone’s salads, because that is totally what just happened there.

So the band is (almost all) back together, minus Chengling, who has definitely found out in the worst possible way that one of his dads is the terrifying master of the Ghost Valley that massacred his family and sect. So, this should go well.

Lol at Xie’er lounging in Wen Kexing’s Ghost Valley master seat like some kind of consort. He’s already got a husband, Xie’er. One that would not be happy with a concubine running around, I think. I do wonder what the full scope of their plan/understanding is, bubbling away under this stare-down.

A note – WKX’s hair is styled differently in this ep in the Ghost Valley master scenes than it has been before. Previously, those side bangs were further forward and a little bit chunkier, which, I think, narrowed his face and also helped emphasize the wild-eyed look. They’re wispier and back further, now, which I think softens his face, even when he’s trying to look imposing. Makes him look more, dare I say, human.

And now, I’m going to go have a few Han Ying/Bi Xingming thoughts, actually. God, those months after ZZS left, can you imagine what that was like for them? Han Ying having watched those nails placed in Bi Xingming’s shifu in the first ep, and then having to turn around and go to Bi Xingming and tell him that ZZS was gone, with the seven nails in him? Both of them trying to hold the Four Seasons Remnants together – and then Ying-ge comes back one day and says he’s found ZZS? Mutual aid and comfort, my dudes. Also some projection. I’m just sayin’. Meet me, I guess - this kind of sideline action and extremely rare pair thing is how I tend to roll.

#zhou zishu #wen kexing #gu xiang #cao weining #liu qianqiao #luo fumeng #xie wang #jing beiyuan #wu xi #zhang chengling #han ying #bi xingming #word of honor #word of honor episode reax

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midyxthcrisis · 3 years

Text

let them go - part two | j.t.

warnings: violence, swearing

also i’m so sorry the ending is a bit rushed! this part was getting rather wrong so i did the best i could

part one

As it turns out, it wouldn’t be long before you saw Boy Wonder again.

The only thing that standing in your way was the asylum that you were trapped in. You didn’t quite know how it happened, though in all honesty the only thing you were focusing on at the moment was the dark room you were trapped in. All you could remember was that you and the others had gotten separated and then there was nothing but black. Then you woke up, a heavy shackle around your left ankle in order to prevent you from moving too much about the tiny room.

You had screamed until it was physically painful to do so. You had screamed everything you could think of. The names of your friends, pleas of mercy, swears about how the bastards were all going to hell. And without quite realizing it the room had filled with ice and frigid air. There even were a few snowflakes falling from seemingly nowhere. You knew that you had abilities. That was why your family moved to Gotham and why Dick had been so kind to you over the years. Why you were here now. You just didn’t realize you were this powerful. If you managed to create a layer of ice on the walls without even thinking about it, imagine what you could do if you actually intended on doing it.

With a deep breath and a shaky hand, you grabbed the chain keeping you from reaching the door of the room. There was a surge of energy that flowed through you as you thought about the chain beneath your skin freezing and breaking. Before you knew it you heard the sound of just that. A breathless laugh left your lips at the sight of it.

“Holy shit, I can do that.” You were saying it to nobody in particular, but now that you were aware of your abilities it seemed to be that years of pent up energy started coming to the surface. You stood up on shaky legs and made your way over to the door. It was a rusted metal door, one that clearly hadn’t been used in years. Your head tilted to the side slightly as you lifted up your hands. You didn’t know it, but your eyes had turned a pure white and were almost glowing in a way.

The rusty hinges were soon covered in ice. It felt as if you had blacked out after the door fell to the ground when the hinges froze and broke. Your chest heaved up and down rapidly. The energy was still flowing through you, and it was clear by your glowing eyes and frosted hands. As you walked down the hallway a trail of ice followed in your footsteps. It was hard to believe that this was the same person who just a few hours prior was curled up on a couch watching cartoons and drinking illegal beer.

As you continued to walk it was clear you weren’t the only one who had broken out. Rachel was quickly making her way down the darkened asylum hallways, a new woman by her side. The young girl had a smile on her lips when she saw you.

“So, new look?” Rachel asked, her own breathing rather labored.

“Yeah, something like that. Where are the others?” You were beginning to calm down by then, but there still was an icy air surrounding you.

“We were about to get them, wanna come along?”

“I need to find Dick. Now.” You were more concerned about Dick than you were about anything else. If you lost Dick you didn’t know what you would do. He was the only person you had left.

“Um, yeah, we were on our way to Gar. He can turn into a lion, after all. Could be beneficial.”

There was a smile that threatened to come to your lips at the small joke Rachel managed. You agreed to continue on with them while they went to find the green-haired boy. You could see how the two had gotten close over the few weeks that they had known each other. It made another warmth flourish in your chest whenever the two would interact with each other. So without any more words, the three of you quickly walked through the maze of halls that the asylum had.

The sight you came upon was one that would stay with you for the rest of your life. Gar was completely nude and in a cage, his wrists bound and above his head. It was clear there had been some sort of torture inflicted upon the boy. It made your blood boil. How anyone could treat the person who had shown you nothing but kindness like an animal made you want to punch someone.

You had never been a violent person. Of course you had gotten into fights and knew how to fight, you had lived in Gotham City for most of your life, after all, but you weren’t one to actively seek put fights. But right now, seeing Gar tied up, it made you want to kill someone. And you almost had. A man in a white lab coat found your little group. You nearly lost control, your eyes turning a bright white and your hair stood on it’s end as you began to charge at the man.

Rachel had stopped you.

She had stopped you and attempted to reason with the man. He didn’t get the chance to do anything to the girl, as Gar had transformed into his tiger form and killed the man. When Gar shifted back the poor boy was covered in blood and shaking. You felt bad, for sure, but you were grateful that he had intervened.

“Nice, kid. Rachel you get him clothes. I’ll go find Dick and Kory.” With that you left the three to tend to themselves. It was clear that you could handle yourself. It had been one hell of a ride so far, and you had an impression it wouldn’t be letting up any time soon.

And you were right.

The five of you barely made it out of the asylum alive, but you had. Though you all knew Robin died with the burning of the building. With minor scrapes and bruises you all hobbled back to the safe house. You felt lonely without Jason there. Gar was still spending time with Rachel, and Dick seemed to be growing closer to Kory. You had debated texting Jason several times but that meant you would show him that you were interested. It wasn’t that you were interested in Jason Todd, he just didn’t need to know that. So you sat in the bathroom and tended to your own wounds. It was rare for you to get hurt doing things but whenever you did Dick would be there to clean them for you.

It was hard saying goodbye to Dick. He was the only person you had in your life for so long, though now you knew that you had your own little family with Kory, Gar, and Rachel. You two promised each other that if anything came up you would immediately call. You knew that Dick meant it more for you, but you would hold him to that. If anything happened to him and Dick didn’t call...

You didn’t know what you would do.

And boy did something happen.

The first few days at the house Rachel’s mother had brought you to were the closest you thought you would ever get to having a normal life. That was, until Gar got sick. He got really sick. The first thing you thought to do was call Dick.

“It’s Gar, I think he’s dying. I-I don’t know what happened. He was fine a few hours ago!” At this point you were standing on the porch of the home. You didn’t want to scare Rachel any more than she already was.

“Okay, Y/N, calm down. Take deep breaths, remember? Donna and I will be there as soon as we can. Wait for us outside,” You began to question the odd request, “Just do it Y/N.”

The tone in his voice was one that you knew well. It was one that meant he was serious about what he was talking about. One that you knew not to question. Your heart was beating loudly in your ears as you leaned against the banister of the porch. You weren’t sure what happened next, it seemed as if the world went black for a couple seconds, but you were blown off of the porch and were laying in the middle of the yard. You could hear the sound of a car coming up the gravel driveway through the ringing in your ears. Dick’s voice came as a comfort to you.

“Shit, Y/N, are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” You managed to sit up, though you were nearly on the ground again when you saw what was in front of you. It seemed to be a sort of barrier surrounding the home. Why you had been ejected from it, you didn’t know.

“Holy shit.” Those were the only words that you could think of in that moment.

Then Dick started running at the barrier, and before you could do anything he was gone. The only natural thing to do was run after him. The three of you were met with resistance, leaving you outside of the barrier with no foreseeable way inside.

- - -

The sound of the car came as a relief. It had felt like days since Dick ran into the barrier, when in reality it had only been a few hours. You knew that Hank and Dawn were coming. You had only met them for the first time a month ago. They had both lived up to the stories Dick would tell you about the Titans.

Who you didn’t expect to be there was Jason Todd.

“Boy Wonder. You missed me that bad?” A teasing smile was on your lips as you looked up at him from your seat on the ground. You managed to ignore the looks coming from the others, though you did take note of Kory’s smile. And of course the smirk that came to Jason’s lips.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Once you had filled the three newcomers in on what exactly was happening, you all began to try and form a plan in order to get into the home. You were the only one there who didn’t have experience in the field. You had only asked Dick to train you a month or two into your stay with him. So, you just stood behind the rest of them and watched as they argued. Though you would never admit it, your eyes were mainly on Jason. The way his eyes seemed to glow in contrast to the mask that covered them. The way his lips would quirk up in a slight smile every time Hank would make a jab at him.

You were so caught up in your staring that you almost missed the barrier surrounding the home disappearing. The planning stopped in its tracks, and with hesitation everyone agreed to go inside. You needed to save Rachel, Gar, and Dick. If you let anything happened to Dick you would never let yourself live it down. As you were about to step past the threshold you felt a hand grip your arm tightly. You whipped around to see Jason staring you down.

“What are the odds we’ll make it out of there alive?” There was an edge to his voice that you knew all too well. It was fear. You gave him a soft smile and took his hand into yours, a reassuring action and nothing more.

“Stranger things have happened.”

You turned, hand in hand with Boy Wonder, and walked towards the house.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #robin x reader #dc titans #red hood x reader #batman #teen titans

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ruffboijuliaburnsides · 4 years

Note

🥰 for the Witcher of course

A/N: Milos was created I believe by Fayet on AO3 who writes Hibernating With Ghosts which you should all read.

[surrounded by love]

Vesemir was the first person to love Geralt, he thinks. He doesn’t remember if his mother loved him, and he has significant doubts about whether she did or not, since she left him to be raised as a witcher.

But Vesemir was gentle with him, gave him a name of his own, took him back to Kaer Morhen with admonitions that it would be a hard life but that his brothers would always look after him. He didn’t understand the “if he survived” part until later, when he was a bit older, but it was true nonetheless. There was a fair amount of bickering and bullying among the younger boys who hadn’t gone through the trials yet, but if it came down to it they always had each other’s backs, just sometimes they weren’t nice about it.

Vesemir taught him to hold a sword, to fight with a sword, to keep moving even when he wanted to fall over. Vesemir, he learned years after the fact, had pushed back against the choice to put Geralt through a second round of the Trial of the Grasses, said that they needed a witcher who came through the first round in such (relatively) good shape. And it was Vesemir who was the kindest to him and the most protective of him, in his own rough and hard way, after he emerged from the second round different and strange and uncertain. And he’s never stopped.

Eskel loved Geralt immediately. They were of an age, though Geralt had been in Kaer Morhen longer when Vesemir brought Eskel to the youngest boys’ dormitories, but Eskel had been bigger. Just a little taller, just a little stronger.

“I’ll protect you,” the boy declared with complete childlike confidence, taking Geralt’s hand and jutting his chin out as if daring anyone to argue, and Geralt said, “Ok,” and let it happen.

When there were bullies or injuries or sickness, Eskel was always right there. When they came through the Trial of the Grasses (the first time, for Geralt), Eskel was worse off but still managed to crawl his way to Geralt’s cot and squeeze onto the tiny thing with him, holding him even as he trembled nearly out of his skin from the pain and the fear.

(Geral never tells Eskel how much that moment meant to him, even if he wasn’t so badly off. He never tells Eskel how much any of the things he’s done over the years mean to him. Eskel doesn’t need him to.)

And after the siege that destroyed their brothers and their home, Geralt came back to find Eskel had arrived much quicker than he had, that he and Vesemir had already dealt with the bodies and the worst of the bloodstains. And even hollow-eyed and grieving, the first thing Eskel does is walk to Geralt, pull him into the tightest hug of their lives, and ask if Geralt is okay. If that’s not love, Geralt has never experienced it, but he’s pretty sure it is.

Lambert loves Geralt in the same way he hates Geralt: loudly, intensely, and jealously. Their relationship is fraught, always. When Lambert is twelve, he begs Geralt to take him away onto the Path, promises he’ll earn his keep, and in the first big city he can go his own way. Geralt declines, and Lambert’s hatred crystalizes in that moment, from idolization to jealousy.

But other times, as he gets older, especially after the siege, Lambert also provides comfort. He’ll needle Geralt to the point of lashing out, and at Vesemir’s command to “take it outside!” they’ll get their swords and spar for an hour, sometimes more, and when the fight eventually ends, even though it almost always ends with Geralt’s sword at Lambert’s throat, Geralt feels better and Lambert looks satisfied and relieved.

It’s almost as if Lambert doesn’t know how to care for someone without hating them a bit too. Geralt tries not to think about it, because Lambert deserves to be able to pour out that love he carries inside himself without having to lace it with hatred and violence.

Coën loves Geralt, in the way you love a cousin you were never close to. The Gryphon isn’t a regular winter resident in Kaer Morhen, exactly, but then neither is Geralt.

Coën teaches him moves that his school perfected, that don’t naturally mesh with the way the wolves were trained to fight, and talks at length about Milos and how he learned it.

Milos was a smallish, blond-curled Wolf who was killed in the siege. By all accounts, from Vesemir and Eskel, it looked as though he’d died doing his best to protect the littlest of children. He’d travelled with Coën (inasmuch as witchers travelled with each other, which was to say mostly meeting up every few weeks in a previously determined location) for over a decade. They would never let Coën go with that sort of connection. They knew it was there.

And Coën is always a little worried about them all. He may not love them the way he loved Milos, but he doesn’t want what happened to Milos to happen to them.

Jaskier loves Geralt.

Sometimes facts are just facts, and a best friend will always love you.

Jaskier loves Geralt steady and true until Geralt can’t stand it anymore and breaks his heart and pushes him away.

(And even still, that broken shattered heart keeps loving him, even when he doesn’t remotely deserve it.)

Yennefer loves Geralt, though not always the way either of them want her to. The draw is the djinn, they realize eventually, but the feelings are her own. It’s complicated in the end - she doesn’t want to be kept or bound, and he doesn’t want to be left behind, and yet somehow both of them have managed to entangle the other in the things they want least.

“We could’ve been a great love story,” she says one evening, years down the line, sitting at the fireplace in Kaer Morhen’s library after dinner. “Something your bard would’ve been fit to burst about writing.”

“Hmm,” Geralt says, and falls silent. It’s a long time before he says, “I don’t think that was what we’re meant for,” just before Eskel and Jaskier come in bearing alcohol and glasses, Lambert carrying a tray of bread and cheese. It doesn’t leave Yen any space to argue, or agree, or say anything.

Geralt’s not sure he can handle hearing too much about exactly what kind of love she feels for him. Not just yet. He can’t quite handle the thought of Jaskier writing a song - well, another song - about them, especially after the heartbroken bitterness of the others.

Ciri loves Geralt with all the joy and power and carelessness a traumatized child could hope to love.

She is fire and passion and anger and bitterness and kindness, and it’s all Geralt can do to open himself to accepting all her emotions and trying his best to give back even half as good as he gets.

He doesn’t. But he tries. He’s her father, and he will always try.

Jaskier loves everyone. It’s not clear at first, how much he loves. Geralt sees him with Ciri, combing her hair and holding her after nightmares and singing silly songs and pretty songs and songs that he clearly wrote about Geralt but with more subtle imagery than Geralt’s used to from him. He’s always known Jaskier was talented, even if he didn’t enjoy the fruits of his labor, but this is something else entirely, a story that is clearly about Geralt, the most honest songs he’s heard about himself from the bard’s lips, but without ever once mentioning wolves or witchers. He doesn’t know why he hasn’t heard these songs, or why they exist. He’s afraid to ask. Ciri seems to already know them well.

Geralt sees Jaskier with his brothers, even with Coën, and feels like he might burn from the warmth in his chest. The lazy ease with which Jaskier interacts with them. It’s not that he’s not nervous, he clearly wants to make a good impression, but Jaskier is warm and open and most importantly not afraid of any of them.

He is never afraid, and it terrifies Geralt more than anything he can think of, and makes him improbably proud to have been the bard’s first witcher. His brothers love Jaskier right back, in their ways, Eskel with cheerful-yet-terrifying facts about monsters and witchers and the dark places of the world, Lambert with insults and very restrained physical harassment, Coën with solemn offers of helping him train to be a better swordsman than he is, so he can protect himself out in the world.

He sees Jaskier with Yennefer, their previous animosity softened somewhat. They still snipe at each other, pulling at the threads of each others’ insecurities and fears, but if they go too far, they back off, which they never did the first times they met. Geralt sees Jaskier say something saucy (judging by his expression) to Yen one day, and expects Yen to retaliate or slap him, but instead Yen laughs - bright and loud enough that even as far away as he is, Geralt can hear her - and kisses Jaskier’s cheek. He doesn’t know what they’ve built, but he’s glad it’s there, holding them up if he can’t be there.

Vesemir is an enigma in some ways, but Jaskier manages at least to get into his affections, judging by the strict tone he takes with Jaskier while he watches him train with Eskel or Coën, or the firm way he steers the exhausted bard to the dinner table, or the baths, or his own room. It makes Ciri laugh, and Jaskier always sighs when this happens, just following along with a teasing (but somehow also respectful), “Yes, Papa Vesemir.”

And then...

And then.

Jaskier loves Geralt.

It doesn’t make sense. And after some time away, Geralt can process and internalize that it was never meant to be solely platonic. That Jaskier was willing to take whatever love he could get, but that the love he gave was more than that. It overflowed to everyone in Geralt’s life, spilling over and over and over, doing its best to fill everyone up, and somehow Jaskier manages to do this without coming out of it drained and exhausted and unable to love.

He kisses Geralt one day, after singing Ciri to sleep.

“I can’t handle this anymore,” he admits, and Geralt doesn’t know what he means. He tries to say it, pained and uncertain and terrified that Jaskier’s leaving, but Jaskier watches his face and the strange openness of his expressions, and he smiles.

“You can’t either, can you?” he asks softly, and Geralt lets himself whimper, just a tiny bit. “Well,” Jaskier says, a spark of heat and delight in his voice as he presses against Geralt’s body. “We’ll just have to fix that, won’t we?”

Every important person in Geralt’s life loves him, and when it matters they all love each other as well. And while he doesn’t know how to process or handle this fact, he knows that he never in a million years would give it up for anything short of saving their lives.

And all the people around him continue to love him.

#the witcher #jaskier #geralt #geralt of rivia #geraskier #ciri #yennefer #eskel #vesemir #lambert #coen #the witcher fic #askbox meme #my fic #i'm actually really pleased with this

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doorsclosingslowly · 3 years

Text

Your death is a number but I cannot count that high (10/16)

In which Obi-Wan’s day gets worse. And worse.

Zombie Savage AU | 3k | warnings for body horror, mention of sexual assault

Obi-Wan’s troopers are staying mostly out of sight, aside from the few of them doing key maintenance or still manning the helm to enable quick escape if necessary. He knows they disapprove of the fact that he’s leading Savage Opress, renegade Sith apprentice and apparent undead creature and slayer of uncounted of their brothers and two Jedi, onto their small reconnaissance spaceship. He can’t see them, but he can still feel the worrying glares.

He also knows it’s necessary.

Identifying Darth Sidious is of utmost priority.

For the war effort. For the Republic. For the Jedi Order. For Obi-Wan himself, who’s lost so much to the machinations of this Sith, from Qui-Gon a decade ago to friends and soldiers daily right now.

He doesn’t quite know what breaching into the zabrak’s head will entail, but Obi-Wan will be likely out of commission for some time, which should be much safer on the ship. Plus, they are going to leave Entralla anyway. Once they know who Sidious is, they’ll make for his location posthaste—with an optional detour to Coruscant, should he decide he needs reinforcement. If everyone’s already on board, it will speed up the process. And the zabrak isn’t currently hostile.

He’s following Obi-Wan onto the ship without another word, head slightly bowed and apparently incurious.

He follows him into a small unused cabin.

He stands there, unmoving except for the metal insectoids in his cheek.

“How do you want to do this?” Obi-Wan has always been a courteous host. Even facing the undead creature that watched Satine die, it’s hard to shake the instinct.

Opress glances around the room. Only the wriggling of his cables betrays his nerves—if that is what it means.

“You suggested this. I know the Jedi ways of entering a mind—” in theory, and it was never Obi-Wan’s focus of study, though as unexpectedly easy as interaction with the grunting and brutal Sith is turning out to be, he mustn’t expose any lack of surety without reason— “but I assume you know your own techniques for mindmelding. Your familiarity might make this easier.”

“The cot.” Opress pulls at it until it’s dead center in the small room, then strips off the bedding and tosses it into a corner. “This ship is not earthen, but at least it is currently touching the soil, even if it’s not the soil of… It should be darker here. Can you locate braziers?”

“No.” Open fire? Inside a spaceship cabin? It would take a skilled engineer an hour to even shut off the smoke alarms because they are so elementary for safety.

“Then the electric light will serve in its place,” Opress rumbles. It’s hard to work out whether he’s disappointed. “I will strip—” he touches his shoulder pad, the one that was a clone’s helmet an hour ago, and shies away as if burned— “I will lie down now. You will stand behind my head.”

Obi-Wan follows his direction. The earth, the fire, the dark, and their arrangement—it seems deeply ritualistic, and although the Sith tend towards the dramatic he’s never thought them this primitive. In a less dire situation, this would be interesting.

“You will raise your hands. I will close my eyes.”

From the vantage point right above the supine zabrak, Opress looks even more wretched than he appeared on the battlefield. Occasionally, Obi-Wan can see straight through one of the holes in his chest before thick wriggling cables block his view. The other’s filled with an emitter guard—with Opress’ saber’s emitter guard. His torso is well-covered with junkyard debris, and where skin peeks through armor or trash it only seems slightly discolored. The arms are a different matter: the left forearm is prosthetic, of course, dull and lifeless compared to the rest of him, and the upper arms are sore-ridden and blistering and shiny with blaster burns. There is a deep gash all the way lengthwise down his right forearm, stuffed with crap, and the skin at the edges is swollen and purpling black. Flecks of trash move across the gash restlessly like misshapen ants. Despite Savage Opress’ size, somehow, he looks small.

“And then?”

Ridiculously, Opress looks offended. He rumbles, “You do magic.”

“Magic?”

A deep sigh heaves Opress’ metal-studded chest. His brows bunch. He bites his lip. Then, he rumbles, almost monotonously, “I gave myself up for my brother. Brothers. I am here now, and I will not resist. Picture it. I gave myself up. I will not resist. I paid the price for his life. I offer myself for my brother. I am here, Mother, Your Weapon, and whatever Your magic—"

Obi-Wan almost chokes on his vomit. The acid settles, uncomfortably, in his esophagus. Hunts have been lean recently, and there’s not much more to bring up. What hunts—The acid resists being swallowed because he’s lying down. He’s flat on his back and it’s dark outside his closed eyelids and he is terrified. He can feel the musty air on his bare chest, and he wishes he had something to cover himself. Anything. Only this isn’t what he’s been brought here for, he knows, he will soon be bred and—he’s lucky he still has his skirt. It won’t be long now. Maybe She will accept his lack of experience, and despite the tales She will be gentle. Only some Sisters enjoy causing pain.

It won’t be long, he thinks, trying to swallow back bitter spittle, trying to even out his breaths, it won’t be long, and the green that flashes behind his eyelids and seeps deep into his bones is no more vivid than the stone under his back. It won’t be long. It won’t last. It won’t be long.

He sinks.

He—there was a purpose here. He had a purpose. He is… He is Jedi. He’s Obi-Wan.

He’s Obi-Wan, and he just entered this mind.

This isn’t real, or rather—

It isn’t now.

He needs to find out a way to navigate these memories. Find Sidious. Find the Sith’s face. The fate of the Republic depends upon it. He can’t dwell on these… revelations about Opress, disturbing though they are, for all their sake.

Sidious, Obi-Wan tries thinking. Darth Sidious.

He’s still on the slab.

Savage might not care enough about the other Sith, he decides. This seems like a traumatic memory. Maybe it’s easier to access these, and what did Savage say…? The monster slaughtered him. Killed his brother. Maul’s death.

Maul’s death, he thinks. Maul is dead. Maul gets dismembered. Maul—

The crib is the only thing upright in this room. All other scarce furnishings have been torn asunder, searched and searched and searched and turned over as if something could possibly hide under a thin strip of linen.

The crib is an altar, and he kneels before it. He’s been kneeling for days.

The crib is empty.

He failed.

The baby is gone.

No, that’s not what Obi-Wan needs. Maul is dead. Maul is—

Maul is everywhere here, suffusing the air, a green tether—

Maul is dead. Maul is dead.

“What have they done to you, brother?” Obi-Wan can feel his mouth form the syllables, mournful and hard. “How could anybody do this? Hurt you, brother?”

They left the cave the day before yesterday, and finally, finally the brother in the cargo hold gave in to exhaustion and fell asleep. Finally, finally he can inspect him, from the safety of the door’s window, in bright shiplight.

Maul is on the floor curled into a quarter circle, though it’s obvious he would have taken a fetal position if his body allowed it. His metal arachnid abdomen sticks straight down, awkwardly.

His horns are far overgrown and rough, making him look friendless and undignified, but that’s the least pressing issue.

He’s emaciated.

He only got a few tossed pouches of reconstituted spiced meat because eating too much after starving makes you sick, and he wolfed them down. He emptied the hydrosacks much more carefully, sticking his tongue into the opening after so as not to waste a single drop. Water must have been scarcer than food on Lotho Minor.

Food and drink, that’s all he could give Maul. It’s not all his brother needs: companionship, perhaps, solace and sanity, and above all healing and care. Whoever fitted his grotesque prosthetic held no love at all for Maul, for they did nothing to protect his flesh. Maul’s stomach skin is inflamed all over, in places even gangrenous or with open sores smearing pus and blood all over the floor. It’s a miracle he still lives. But he does.

Someone cut him in half and he lived and someone screwed a spider’s ass into him and he lived and someone cut him and he lived and someone screwed it in and he lived and some monster cut Savage’s little brother in half and—

Maul’s dead, Obi-Wan thinks. Maul’s dead. Maul’s dead.

He’s tiny and feverish, and Savage got him just a fortnight ago and it’s already going wrong, he’ll fail his baby brother and—

I didn’t know, Obi-Wan thinks. I didn’t. But I still need to find—

The crib is empty.

It swings, slightly, in the storms.

The body he wears is sobbing.

Maul’s dead.

Maul is worrying his lip thinking of his brother right this moment in the bright green air—this doesn’t feel like—he’s kneeling in his room, but even knowing he might be able to feel the force connection will not allow him to settle into meditation. Savage is in the grasp of Sidious. Savage has been in his grasp for weeks while Maul idled—this isn’t the Maul of these memories—and any liberation might come too late. If they succeed, which they won’t. But still, his brother—this is real. It’s not a memory. Maul’s alive—his brother survived and Maul tried so hard to keep him and—what did Maul do?!—

Focus. Sidious. Sidious’ face. Maul’s... injury?

He never thought there was anyone more powerful than his brother in the galaxy, and he was wrong. Simple hero worship, he was dimly aware, and gratitude and adoration, and he hadn’t followed Maul for his strength anyway, but still, sometimes, he’d glanced sideways and thought, You could wipe the floor with Master Dooku. If he wanted to electrocute me now, you’d kill him, because I’m with you now. I’m your apprentice. He hadn’t thought, you could take on the Mother. But he also hadn’t not thought it.

The twin disasters against Kenobi hadn’t changed his mind. Kenobi might have had the upper hand those times, but he still was a gnat. Hey what…

He’d thought that there was no-one more powerful than Maul, and he’d been happy. Maul would live. Maul’s alive. Obi-Wan just felt his presence but—

He’d thought that there was none more powerful than his brother.

And then, the monster came.

The monster who stole the toddler Savage should have raised and tortured him instead, who is just as supercilious and cruel and ugly as Savage suspected. He wears a heinous purple hood robe—he’s hiding his face but Obi-Wan needs to see it—and he just kills Miks and Jema. Maul, immediately and obviously terrified, tries to placate him with lies of servitude. Getting smashed against the wall hurts less than hearing Maul call the creep Master.

Distantly, Obi-Wan catalogues the fighting stances used by the body he’s inside and the two others, though focusing mostly on trying to get a clear view of Sidious’ face. That chin seems oddly familiar. Too familiar. Who is… The body—Savage—has other priorities, glancing back and again at Maul. Maul, who has to live. Maul’s unconscious now, and Savage won’t win, but maybe in his struggle and death he will buy enough time for his baby brother to get away—a blurred view of the face but it’s clear enough and—Maul has to get away—Palpatine—the monster whirls around—the Chancellor?!—and pain, pain—the Chancellor—pain—the Chancellor, Obi-Wan left Anakin so often alone with him and the Chancellor is the Sith Lord—pain—the—

Floor, far away, for a minute. Not long left. Only time for—a hand, grasping his, and Maul. Oh, Maul. Oh, brother.

“I am an unworthy apprentice,” ground out with the last of bis breaths. An apology. A goodbye, because he’s leaving Maul here with his old nightmare and if Savage were better, if he were just a little bit better, he could have protected… “I never—”

Maul doesn’t accept. His hand is hot against Savage’s mouth. Savage bites down on reflex and the green light rises—Obi-Wan’s seen too much of this light, what does it mean—the green light rises and Maul forces it deep into his brother, with his own body and his mind unheeding the brutality or material reality, while the vortex of magic swirls and swirls around them. Debris sticks like static to his skin—Obi-Wan can feel it and he can feel Maul giving in to anything that may grant power, and oh, Savage outside these memories is crafted and reinforced with trash and does that mean—the light pulls shrapnel and detritus left on the battlefield inside and forms—and Darth Maul forms an undead behemoth out of the almost-corpse of his brother.

Darth Maul did this.

A technobeast.

That’s what they are called, amalgamations of organic and machine matter.

Obi-Wan read of mechu-deru, and mechu-deru vitae, after the reappearance of dismembered Darth Maul when a sai tok should have ended him. A prosthetic lower body is within the remits of the eccentric darkside art of mechu-deru, but Savage the undead machinistic creature extends far beyond that and into sheer barbarism. Mechu-deru allows its practitioner to understand and influence inanimate and robotic constructs. On the lowest end…

The technobeast.

Metal and flesh intermixed to create a weaponized cyborg. A willing slave.

Darth Maul was willing to lobotomize his own brother.

He made a weapon of his brother.

That Maul could sink so…

And still, pervasively, poor Opress loves him.

Obi-Wan’s seen enough.

He’s seen the face of Darth Sidious—seen Palpatine—and he now knows the true depths of Maul’s depravity. He only has to wake up and inform the Jedi Council now. He must wake up.

He must wake—

A finger touches his forehead. It feels strange, as if his body had never before been touched. He opens his eyes in the dark musty Temple, and soon his eyes land on the Sister who won him. Who will breed him. He wraps his hand around Her neck, and distantly he is surprised both that he is angry—that he dares resist—and that his hand dwarfs her neck, but still he chokes Her and She begs, “Let me go,” but he won’t because he hates Her and then the Mother says, “Calmly, Sister,” and She repeats, “Let me go,” and he stops.

He stops.

Stops.

He stands up.

“Now, for the final test,” She who is Power says.

And They carry in a brother he thinks he should know and She who is Power orders him to kill the brother and, wrapping his hand around another neck and feeling like he should remember every single meal and every hunt and every night and every tear and every word and every laugh they ever shared, he does.

He kills the brother.

It’s Feral.

He killed Feral—

Obi-Wan sicks up his lunch. And his breakfast, for good measure.

“Did you find Sidious?” Opress rumbles from his cot.

He appears completely impassive, as if Obi-Wan hadn’t just seen him mourn the baby he lost and choke another of his brothers to death and skewered through the hearts by Darth Sidious—by Chancellor Palpatine, and they are doomed, doomed, how could this just slip by, how could Obi-Wan entrust his padawan to a monster for hours upon hours, how could the Republic just fall to his sway and if he commands Dooku then what does this mean for the war that has been destroying all of them for years—seen Opress killed by Sidious and then turned into a machine slave by Darth Maul, who’s meant to be Opress’ brother and Obi-Wan always assumed that he felt at least a modicum of comradeship for his kind, but if he’s ready to plumb these moral depths… Maul, who apparently, is also still alive.

It’s a bit much.

Obi-Wan feels faint. He pulls a chair out with the force and sits.

Opress, meanwhile, sits up on his cot. The cables on his chest wave and wrap tightly around him—a sickening testament to Darth Maul’s malice. They jitter. “You—recognized him?” Opress asks.

“I did,” Obi-Wan replies tonelessly. “It’s Supreme Chancellor Palpatine.”

“Good. Where does this Chancellor live?”

“Where does—” Obi-Wan doesn’t have the energy for this. “He lives on Coruscant.”

“Then let us go and kill him.”

“We can’t just kill the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic—” Something dawns upon Obi-Wan. He laughs hysterically. “You have no idea who that is, do you?”

“I don’t.” Savage Opress doesn’t appear any less buoyed by his gross ignorance. Maybe that is a result of the brain damage caused by Darth Maul’s ritual. “It doesn’t matter. I am the last weapon of the Mother. She resurrected me, and I shall avenge Her, and then I’ll die.”

Obi-Wan should probably tell him that Darth Maul used mechu-deru to enslave him and that’s why he’s an undead machine-contaminated monster now. He will. He will, soon, but his first duty is to the galaxy and the Jedi and the Republic, and Sidious is the most dire threat by far. He can’t afford the time to explain what he just found out to this hapless creature, and technobeasts according to the book were renowned for their power. Perhaps Opress will be instrumental in taking down the Sith Lord.

It’s not even deception. A lot of deception, anyway. Opress wants to kill Darth Sidious. That’s why he accosted Obi-Wan. The man killed him, after all. There’ll be time for truth later and—

The comm system whirrs alive. “General, we’re being boarded!”

It turns off, like there’s not even time for another missive.

Kriff.

Who could it be but Sidious?

Obi-Wan hasn’t even commed the Jedi Order.

And if he already found out then…

Obi-Wan sprints towards the door. Opress pushes himself off the cot. The air grows thicker, and thicker, and both keel over.

#savage opress #savage oppress #zombie savage au #dimtraces makes things

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missorgana · 3 years

Text

a moment in time

pairing: karolina dean/nico minoru

fandom: marvel’s runaways

rating: general

word count: 2014

warning: swearing

summary: Nico accidently brings home the wrong suitcase. Annoying. The owner of said suitcase? Anything but annoying. (no powers meet-cute + luggage mix-up)

(a soft silly au right before femslash february comes to an end mwahhhhh! they’re superior girlfriends wbk. Cat / @inafaithforgotten beta read this as always AND as always u are an angel 💕✨ hope you enjoy!!)

read on ao3

“You talk to any of the others yet?”

Nico frowns at her friend, hoping the signal’s clear enough for the picture to show him, “No.” Of course, Alex laughs. Idiot.

“Come on, Nico,” he tells her, absentmindedly rummaging through his fridge, of all things, “You can’t just be alone in Sydney for six months.”

And of course, she rolls her eyes at his response, as always. Deep down, she knows he means well, but really, his social butterfly self gets on her nerves from time to time.

“Why not?” she huffs, but with a kind of smile that tells Alex she doesn’t care about his life philosophies, without fearing making him upset. Or him being scared she’s upset. Mostly the ladder.

A beep of his microwave oven sounds in her headphones, “Nevermind, dummy.”

Maybe she misses her best friend, but it’s not like she’ll admit it as long as she lives. Anyway, the hotel room’s better than she expected once she arrives, the cool air of the airport and crowds of students approaching her in each their own language became all too much, too fast.

Nico’s not exactly a people person, as Alex says.

But also, baggage claim is the absolute worst. Don’t try to argue with her, won’t change her mind.

There really is no way to avoid it, but seriously, absolutely no personal space. It’s like a warzone, almost, because her fellow passengers can’t fucking wait a minute or two, and be damn polite?

It’s whatever, Nico’s just glad to finally have arrived.

She may have a little airplane anxiety. It’s embarrassing, but Alex, like the wonderful best friend who cares too much, crafted her a self care kit (his words, not hers). Maybe the obligatory pre-takeoff text helped with her restless hands. Shut up.

Soon as Alex says his goodbye, door closed, she’s back on her background noise playlist, eager for a shower and some long-awaited sleep. At this point jet lag can kiss her ass.

A look in the mirror reveals the mess of eyeliner she made when she rubbed sleep out of her eye for whatever low budget action movie had played on the tv system (terrible selection, seriously), oh well, the little hot water she gets access to does wonders for her headache.

Another reason why she avoids traveling by flight at all costs.

It’s a comforting thought she’ll be here for a while, though. Alex made this sound like an all alone in the world thing, but Nico honestly doesn’t really mind.

With her parents, she’d been alone much of her childhood, anyway. Depressing, she knows.

She leaves the shower in a haze, hoodie and sweatpants right at her hand, and just catches Amy’s enthusiastic text full of heart emojis.

Ridiculous. But lovely.

Nico thinks that reply back is just about all she has energy left for, until the rumbling of her stomach clearly tells her otherwise. Fuck.

And, well, budget hotels infamous for exchange student parties rarely offer room service. It’s ten minutes of Nico panicking, almost going to the desperate point of having to leave the hotel room, find a vending machine, or some cafe nearby, which would require her to interact with people.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It’s sort of embarrassing, or at least it would be, if anyone was here to see her. A small virtue.

But, hah, of course! The angel Amy truly is, Nico almost forgot the snacks her sister insisted on stuffing in her suitcase.

If she almost wants to cry of happiness, no, she doesn’t. She’s allowed to be a little overdramatic, okay?

Small emotional rollercoaster aside, she hurries for the luggage, surprisingly, struggling with finding the zipper. Not anything she takes time to think about much, given the circumstances, until she breaks it open and comes to a halt.

It does take a minute.

But this is definitely not Nico’s suitcase.

The exterior was familiar, but there’s absolutely zero doubt in her mind a mistake has been made when she’s met with a soft pink piece of fabric. With fucking lace.

Her stomach’s not turning with the thought of the outside world anymore, instead, she’s just weirded the hell out. Because she had never jotted herself down as easily distracted, but there’s a first time for everything, she supposes.

Nico simply shifts to a cross-legged position, staring at the pair of pastel colored scrunchies, white dress shirt, and brown tassel boots. She just wants to sleep, dammit.

But she can’t really ignore this kind of problem, really.

She’s got her carry-on, of course, but like, she wants her own things. All of them.

So, a careful investigation of the luggage is what she puts her mind to, trying not to mess up or pry too much in this stranger’s business. A postcard accompanied by a tiny silver cross pin causes her to snort.

Whoever this person is, by the looks of the suitcase’s content, is not exactly someone Nico would find herself hanging around with.

Whatever.

It takes way too long for her to find any sort of information on this stranger. Or, well, maybe just her sleep deprived mind missing the very obvious nametag on the back. Shut up.

The white laminated label tells her it belongs to a Karolina Dean.

Nico maybe stumbles over the address, the same state as herself, but who cares, it’s not like it’s any surprise. Her lucky stars also provided a phone number to the person, and she just can’t hurry enough.

What a mess.

...

Nico is stood in Sydney Airport at shit-o-clock in the morning, with a wrong suitcase and without sleep for fuck knows how many hours.

Needless to say, she can’t wait for this to be over already.

Funny enough, her strange companion got ahead of her, calling her at exactly the time she gathered the phone number. The voice was bright and a bit giggly, which would piss Nico off if she wasn’t so tired.

She’s still pissed, but mostly at herself.

So, of course, they agreed to meet back at the airport right away. This Karolina’s an exchange student as well, as she gathered, but located at another hotel. It’s probably decided according to their line of study, or something.

Nico would be lying if she said she knew what she was doing right now. She hopes she won’t have to explain this to Alex, he’ll only laugh his ass off, that’s for sure.

She’s been staring at the same five rerun commercials on the flatscreen, which surely won’t do any good to her burning eyes, when the voice from the phone call says her name. And honestly, she’s not sure what she expected from this meeting.

Nico stands up to a close to angelic girl.

Judge her all you want, but that’s about all the thought her brain’s forming right now.

Karolina Dean’s beaming a smile at her way too bright for this early in the morning, blonde braided hair and star-studded ears.

Fuck, okay, also, blue eyes nearly sparkling, or something.

Nico doesn’t have to force a smile back at all.

She soon realises the mention of her name was a question, “Uh, yeah, Nico. Karolina, right?”, to which the taller girl nods.

“I’m so sorry about this,” she tells her, sighing, sounding almost like she ran all the way here, “So easily distracted.”

Maybe Nico almost gets angry from this beautiful stranger taking the blame all for herself. Maybe she wants to roll her eyes, but she doesn’t. Karolina doesn’t know her, and for some reason, she’s the kind of person Nico doesn’t want to disappoint. Or offend.

Instead, she shakes her head and shifts her weight from one foot to another, “I’d say we’re both equally to blame here.”

She also tries to laugh, which sounds very wrong in her own ears, ugh, but her new companion maintains her sweet smile, too innocent and soft spoken, that Nico almost wants to cry again.

Anyway, she has to gather herself.

Status so far is that while she still desperately needs sleep, she is also faced with the problem of an extremely pretty girl in front of her. Pretty girls are somewhat of a weakness for her, as you can tell. Damn the universe for this.

So, what’s Nico to do about it?

Alex would most likely yell at her to get her number. Or, technically, she has the number already… but fuck, is this really the right time to flirt? Most likely not.

She’s admittedly also a very awkward flirter. Alex described her as such, which is a bit hypocritical when he’s just as bad himself. Scratch that, he’s worse, and Nico will remind him daily. A disaster pair of best friends they are, but Alex is right.

Luckily, Karolina seems a bit more cool-headed compared to the rut she’s stuck in herself, and the reason this meeting is taking place is handed over.

It’s hard to describe how much her body’s screaming for her to find her way back to bed as soon as possible, but even with her own stuff back, she hesitates.

The blonde still smiles, damn her, but takes on a wide-eyed expression, tugging on her fingers like she’s embarrassed, “I promise I didn’t mess up your stuff, I- sorry, I just. Your jacket’s really cool.”

Nico blinks.

And her companion seems to read her mind, cause she giggles, “I mean it! It made me want to know you.” Karolina soon after frowns at her own words, continuing with, “Sorry, that sounds… so weird.”

You’re so fucking adorable, Nico thinks to herself, and honestly, just wishes this angel would stop apologising. It’s sort of painful.

Of course, she shakes her head at her companion’s words, because that’s somehow the most ridiculous thing she’s heard today. The last two days. Man, fuck timezones.

But somehow, it takes her way, way too long to figure out why the blonde’s giving her a surprised face. And she blushes.

Because, of fucking course, Nico can’t keep her thoughts inside her head.

So she gathers she’s just called her adorable, and Karolina’s fidgeting with the handle of her suitcase now, seemingly not being in a hurry to go anywhere, and she’s biting her lip.

It makes Nico’s head spin. Mostly the fact that the angel girl’s not fleeing the scene.

“Did I just say that out loud?”

The blonde nods.

“Fuck,” she finds herself saying, because whatever, it’s not like she can say anything more embarrassing than what just came out of her mouth, “I’m sorry. Can you, uh. Can we pretend it’s my sleep deprivation talking?”

Karolina’s curious to her. She tugs the wispy locks of hair behind her ears and looks at Nico like she’s sincerely considering her words.

It’s here she notices how close they’re actually standing, and that she’s breathing a tiny bit faster than normal. She’d scold herself like a loser, if her companion didn’t answer her question in such an unexpected way.

“I guess,” Karolina chuckles, but she’s fidgeting again, staring at her scuffed white sneakers with a meaningful look.

And then it’s like she gains a new sort of determination, looks up at Nico, which definitely doesn’t make it easier for her to breathe. Her smile turns a bit mischievous. At this point, the lack of sleep might just make Nico hallucinate.

“But I’d rather have breakfast when we’re not sleep deprived. Heh, if- if you want to, of course.”

The blonde’s biting her lip again. Nope, Nico definitely heard that right, no sound hallucination or whatever.

Turns out this luggage switch was a blessing in disguise, huh. Fuck you if you accuse her of being cheesy, she doesn’t really care when a, yes, definite angel is looking at her expectantly, and maybe also has invited her to something resembling a date. Breakfast can be a date, right?

Needless to say, she’s never said yes to anything as fast as this in her life.

And, needless to say, Nico’s never looked forward to waking up again as much as she does when she finally goes to bed, either.

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