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#eating should be a pleasure and not dreaded or a chore
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How I limit my productivity and why you probably should too
Yes. I limit my productivity. I monitor my time being spent on being "productive" and doing things that are focused on growth instead of existence. Now I don't mean to say that I just ignore myself and don't try to be a better person. I'm talking in context of stereotypical social media productivity; things like studying for hours, working extra shifts, maximizing time spent on growth podcasts and self help books instead of indulgences like music and fantasy novels. I don't mean analyzing your bad behaviors and working on breaking bad habits. I'm talking more on the lines of marketable growth.
I have noticed a major increase over a couple years in people trying to be as productive as possible. They prioritize productivity and growth (again talking more of the marketable, social media style, not personal) and minimizing time spent living and merely existing. We are sprinting a marathon it seems. And I do not like sprinting. Or even running. It's my most dreaded part of my gym time. I acknowledge that it is necessary, and so is spending time being productive and working on your marketable growth. But it shouldn't be the main part of every day, just like sprinting for 10 minutes on a treadmill shouldn't be the main part of every workout you do.
I love informative podcasts just as much as the next person and TED Daily is a favorite for sure, as well as various fish and nature podcasts are too! But I limit these to my hour+ commute to campus every other day. When I'm walking around, I listen to music or maybe a "brain numbing" podcast (ones that don't make you think and comprehend and analyze things like story ones [magnus archives eg] or paranormal or mythology or crime style podcasts). I listen to pleasure things, not to thinking things. This gives my brain noise that's just noise. It let's my brain slip out of analytical scientist mode for a while and maybe dance while I walk around!
My gym time is scheduled. I spend the scheduled time in the gym and I enjoy it so much! But when it's not gym time, it's not gym time. I do my morning stretches and yoga and I do my hour in the gym every other day. This is time purely for the gym and nothing else. It's a great release but can also become taxing very quickly, so I only think about it when it's time to.
Study time is the same. It's scheduled and I study when it's study time. I don't walk around and look at flashcards anymore. This is not helpful at all and you could easily hurt yourself or others. You won't retain the information really and you're just adding extra stress into your already stressful life.
I have a schedule for my week and I block out my productive times. My gym time. My study time. My intellectual reading time. My information podcasts. All those things. But I schedule them AFTER I have blocked out classes, work, my slow mornings, chores, and pleasure items like a hair mask night or a night out or something. Of course I make time for improving myself and like I said they are also scheduled, but not with more importance than my actual life. And I also make sure that I know to be flexible with myself. Sometimes I have to add in extra study time and reduce time spent elsewhere if I have a test or something. Sometimes I get sick or I lose track of time while playing video games. Sometimes I sit in the bath way longer than I should. And that's ok. Sometimes we need to have the discipline to put pleasure aside EVERY NOW AND THEN and Sometimes we need the grace to put productivity on the back burner EVERY NOW AND THEN.
Don't ignore your responsibilities, but don't ignore your life either. So please, make just as much time for your pleasure as you do for your productivity. They're both important, but don't let school and life weigh you down so much that rain is annoying and angering and that you miss your niece's 3rd birthday. Dance in the rain. Jump in the puddles. Spin and laugh as you get soaked. And eat the easy bake cakes your little cousin bakes. And read your friend's kid a story. And draw little doodles in your notes. And smile. And try to make someone else smile. And drink your too sweet, too hot coffee. And listen to that song that you'd be embarrassed if anyone knew you liked it. Please don't forget to live.
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seveneyesoup · 3 years
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okay i’m all for healthy eating but it makes me violent when i see websites say shit like “only eat one piece of fruit a day and don’t eat these kinds they aren’t healthy also don’t dip your veggies in ranch that cancels it and makes it bad for you also carrots are basically just sugar don’t eat them” like sorry no fruits and veggies are healthy actually. they’re like. The Healthiest and sure they have calories but that doesn’t make them evil??? you Need calories to Live and you need produce to get vitamins and you need to eat food that you like to make you happy and look forward to nourishing your body tf
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erogenousmind · 2 years
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Passing the Time
Eric: Sorry to do this, pet, but I’m going to be stuck late at work. We can still have our date tonight, but I won’t be home until after 7.
Carrie: That sucks! I hate that you’ve had to work so hard, but I hate that I don’t get to see you until so late even more. Need to figure out what I’m going to do around the house until then...
Eric: I’m sure you can come up with some way to pass the time
Carrie: Yessir
Carrie frowned at her phone before setting it down beside her. That was easy for him to say. Time would probably fly by for him, working away on one of those exciting projects he always enjoyed telling her about. While she just sat around waiting for her phone to ring like a smitten schoolgirl.
That wasn’t fair. Carrie was proud that Eric worked so hard and accomplished so much and still made time for her. And he had given her plenty of warning, instead of springing it on her at the last second. She hadn’t even gotten dressed for their date night yet. She grinned sheepishly as she looked down at her t-shirt, pajama pants and fuzzy socks. Carrie gave her toes a little wiggle, enjoying the feel of the fabric. What was she even going to wear tonight? Eric usually wanted to choose for her, and she was eager to present herself however he wanted, but this time she hadn’t been given much to go on. She glanced over at her phone as it buzzed again --
Combing through her wardrobe, Carrie grabbed a few choice items distractedly and laid them out on the bed. If Eric would be getting in that late, would they still be eating together? Should she go ahead and make herself something? She should text him and ask, he was always good about responding quickly even if he was busy. She typed away as she made her way back to the kitchen and set her phone down on the counter after her message sent.
Carrie: What should we do for food?
She opened the refrigerator and went through some of the possibilities if she had to come up with something on the fly. Nothing quite felt right though. It was always so much easier when Eric would decide. She turned and picked up her phone again to read his response --
Carrie closed the door to the oven and plopped down on the couch. It was unfortunate that they wouldn’t get to eat together but at least it would leave them plenty of time to enjoy their evening when Eric did finally arrive. There was some time to kill now, waiting for her dinner to finish cooking. She hated to interrupt him too much, but she felt a need to message him, to have that connection that was being otherwise delayed. Pulling out her phone again, she saw she already had a message from him that she hadn’t seen yet --
Carrie ran her hand under the open tap of the bathtub, testing the temperature. Dinner was finished and the kitchen was clean. She marveled at how effortless it had felt. Normally she dreaded cleaning up after a meal, but her chores had passed this time without her even seeming to notice. Lighting the special scented candle she kept in her bedside table, she could feel the relaxed, dopey smile coming to her face. The scent awakened the feeling of a memory inside her and she shuddered unconsciously in response to it, a ripple of pleasure running down the length of her body. She set the candle down at the foot of the bath and disrobed. She noticed herself placing her phone within reach of the tub although she couldn’t say why. She laughed at herself. I guess I just need him that much closer to me she thought.
The warm water soothed aches she hadn’t known she had and Carrie felt the tension melting out of her body the moment it was submerged. She lay for a moment with a damp washcloth covering her eyes. She breathed deeply and just let her senses enjoy the experience. She didn’t know how long she had been resting like this when her phone buzzed again. Carrie lifted the cloth off her face, draped it over the side of the tub and fumbled for her phone with her other hand, stretching to see her message without leaving the tranquility of the tub --
Carrie’s eyes were focused on the candle. Her thoughts were in the candle and she watched them flicker and fade. Carrie didn’t think. Staring into the candle takes Carrie deeper. Going deeper makes Carrie better. Carrie wants to be better for Master. Carrie needs to be better for Master. Carrie breathes in her submission. The candle makes her weak. Carrie wants to be weak for Master. Carrie is a slave for Master. Carrie doesn’t think...
Carrie toweled off and took a look at her phone to check the time. She hadn’t meant to doze in the tub like that, but she felt reinvigorated and refreshed. Her body felt alive in a way it hadn’t all day. And she still had a little time to kill before Eric was supposed to arrive. She stretched and admired her naked form in the mirror. She looked hot and she felt hot. And he’d get to feel how hot she was soon enough.
Finding clothes laid out for her on the bed, Carrie gave a silent thank you to Eric. He was always so thoughtful, picking out her outfit for their dates. She dressed, saving the...necklace he had chosen for last. She held it up, admiring the look of it as well as how it made her look and feel to wear. She hesitated to clasp it around her neck. She needed to wait for...something. Her phone buzzed again on the bed where she had left it --
Carrie’s collar makes her a slave. The feel of it around her neck reminds Carrie that she is owned. Carrie is obedient. Carrie wants only to serve. Carrie needs to please her master. Being a good slave makes Carrie feel good. Being a good slave excites Carrie. Carrie gets so turned on obeying Master. Carrie needs Master’s commands. Carrie’s collar makes her a slave...
Carrie checked herself out in the mirror one last time, making sure she was presentable for Master. She stepped into the living room and set herself lightly on the sofa, eager to be with him again. Master should be heading to her soon. After a moment, she stood up again, too excited to stay still. Carrie paced back and forth for a moment. She wanted him here now. She wanted him. The warmth that had been building between her legs since she dressed refused to allow her to forget.
She felt her phone go off again alerting her to a message from him.
Eric: Just leaving now. See you soon!
Eric: Something to help you pass the time until I arrive:
a hyperlink popped up below his last message. She clicked on it, curious about what he had sent --
Carrie was on her knees, legs spread, as she stared mindlessly at the spiral. Carrie needed to be ready for Master. Her hands roamed her body allowing that spark of pleasure to build and build. Carrie needed to please Master. The spiral makes Carrie a good slave. Carrie always wants to be ready for Master. Carrie doesn’t need to think; Master thinks for Carrie. Carrie is eager to pleasure her Master. Carrie surrenders her body and mind to Master. Carrie is a slave. Carrie is a slave. Carrie is a slave...
Carrie’s eyes lit up as the door handle turned. She was able to slow herself enough that she didn’t plow him over the moment he walked through the door. His arms wrapped around her and he pulled her in for a kiss as she swooned.
“I’m so happy to see you, Master. I’m really excited for our date,” she gushed.
“As am I, slave. I’m sorry again that it is already so late. I hope you were able to pass the time while waiting. What all did you get up to?”
Carrie’s eyes glazed over for a moment, the events of her afternoon shifting and warping and fading in her mind. Her mouth opened to respond and hung there for a minute as her mind re-calibrated. “I don’t remember anymore,” she answered in a dull monotone.
“Good girl!” His praise brought a smile to her face as she wrapped herself around him tightly, ready to enjoy his presence however he desired.
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missmentelle · 4 years
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How do I know if I'm burnt out and what are signs of being burnt out? In relation to both university and work?
Unfortunately, burnout is a very common problem among both university students and people in high-stress jobs. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the term, “burnout” is effectively where people reach a breaking point after being in a high-stress occupation (like a demanding academic program or a high-pressure career) for too long. Being “burnt out” is not an official diagnosis, and you won’t find it in the ICD-11 or the DSM-V. But it’s something that an increasing number of people are experiencing every year.
Not everyone is at equal risk of experiencing burnout - many students and workers never really deal with this. Factors that put you at high risk of burnout include:
Having poor work-life balance. If you spend huge portions of your time working - working through weekends, doing tons of overtime, working late, not taking vacation, working through lunch - you are at high risk of burnout. Humans need rest, relaxation, hobbies and time with friends, and when you sacrifice those things for work, it will eventually take a toll.
Having very little control over your day-to-day tasks. No one has perfect control over their daily work tasks - not even the self-employed - but having some element of control is important. If you have a say in things like when to schedule meetings, when to book client appointments and which task you are going to work on when, you have a lower risk of burnout than someone whose tasks tend to just be dictated to them. 
Having perfectionist traits or holding yourself to very high standards. People who experience burnout tend to be overachievers. They constantly try to go above and beyond because they put immense pressure on themselves to do their best work at all times. If you’re the kind of person who beats yourself up over getting an A- instead of an A and makes a point to be the last one out of the office every day, you are at risk of burnout. 
Having a dysfunctional work or school environment. Is your workplace plagued with bullies and office gossip? Do your lab members take pleasure in ripping each other’s research and writing to shreds, without really being constructive about it? Does your boss take their bad moods out on the rest of the office, even when you haven’t done anything wrong? A dysfunctional workplace creates burned-out employees.
Having unclear instructions or directions. It is extremely difficult to be in a work environment where you are expected to do be productive, but you aren’t given clear expectations, a clear list of tasks or instructions for how those tasks should actually be performed. It leaves you constantly feeling like your work isn’t good enough and isn’t done properly, without actually giving you a route to improve; you often end up working twice as hard to get half as much done, which is a recipe for burnout. 
Working in a helping profession. Nurses, social workers, therapists, paramedics, psychologists, caregivers and caseworkers have some of the highest burnout rates of any profession. These jobs often combine long hours and low pay with incredibly stressful work environments, and burnout is a huge problem. 
Burnout is more than just feeling tired or bored of what you do. It’s a state of complete and total exhaustion. Putting more energy into your job isn’t possible when you reach that point - you have nothing left to give. “Burnout” isn’t an official diagnosis, but it is a fitting description - trying to push through burnout is like trying to re-light a candle that has already burned all the way down to the bottom. It’s just not going to happen. 
Some signs that you’ve reached the point of burnout include:
Your performance is suffering. You can’t keep going full steam ahead when you’re running on fumes. When you’re burnt out, your work performance will one of the first things that starts to slip - you may find that you are missing deadlines, forgetting things, half-assing tasks and making careless mistakes.  
You constantly feel drained. Burnout is a perpetual state of exhaustion. You’ll start to feel like you just don’t have the energy to do everything that you’re supposed to do. You’ll find that you feel tired all the time, regardless of your sleeping habits, and that just forcing yourself to do the bare minimum leaves you feeling totally depleted and unable to do much else. 
You feel disconnected and cynical toward your work. Even if you once enjoyed your work or felt passionate about it, when you’re burnt out, you become disillusioned with what you do. You may find that you’re cynical about your work, or just so apathetic that you can’t bring yourself to care about it anymore, even when you accomplish things that once mattered to you. 
You can’t concentrate. Burnout can make it difficult - if not impossible - for even the most dedicated person to focus on their tasks. You might find that you spend a lot of time just sitting in front of your computer, unable to even start tasks because you can’t focus well enough to begin something. 
You have become irritable and short-tempered. People who are burnt out have a tendency to become impatient with the people around them. When you’re running on empty, you have no energy left for social interactions. You might find that you’re snapping at coworkers or getting visibly frustrated with clients if you work in a helping profession. 
You feel anxious. Burnout is often accompanied by feelings of indistinct dread that you just can’t seem to shake. The fear and anxiety is often tied to work, and can be completely overwhelming. 
You can’t sleep. Ironically, people with burnout often have a hard time sleeping. Their minds race all night, and they find that they cannot settle down or get comfortable enough to drift off. If you can sleep, you may find that you are only able to sleep in short bursts and cannot sleep through a full night. 
Your eating habits have changed. Some people experiencing burnout find that they lose their appetites. Others find that they begin to comfort themselves with food. Significant changes in appetite and food intake can signal a serious problem. 
You feel physically ill. Being under high amounts of stress for long periods of time can destroy your health - you might find that you have a lot of symptoms with no direct physical cause, like headaches, stomach pain, nausea and body aches. You might also find that you get sick more often and get more infections as the stress wears down your immune system. 
You feel like you have to drag yourself through the day. Even if you once enjoyed your job or your school, you might start to feel like even showing up is a huge chore, and dread having to go in. You might find that it takes all of your energy to even make it through the front door each day. 
The good news is that burnout is not a permanent state; there are things you can do to recover. However, recovering from burnout is not necessarily easy - this is not something you can quick-fix with a self-help book, and you may need to make significant lifestyle changes. Some things you can do to fix or prevent burnout include:
Set firm boundaries. If possible, stop taking work home. Stop signing up for extra shifts and overtime every time it’s available. Don’t volunteer to organize every single office party and baby shower. Stop answering work emails after 5pm. Don’t check your email on the weekends. Don’t respond to emails on vacation. Set firm boundaries between “work time” and “me time” - especially if you work from home, where it’s easier for work and life to bleed together. 
Use every minute of your paid time off. A lot of people just don’t use up all their PTO every year because they’re worried they’re letting the company down by taking vacation. Stop that. If you have vacation days, use them. Use your sick time too - if you don’t get sick that often, use them as mental health days. If you’re a student, ask professors for extensions when you’re sick - more and more professors are getting on board with cutting students some slack for life events. 
Unplug from productivity culture. Our culture has a pathological obsession with productivity, and it’s killing us. We consume books and blogs and podcasts about how to squeeze as much productivity out of ourselves as possible. It has to stop. Unsubscribe from this kind of content. You don’t need to put more pressure on yourself to optimize and monetize every second of your day - it’s not healthy. 
Seek support. Talk to a therapist, a doctor or a friend. Get professional help or just find people you can vent to. Try to form friendships with some of your coworkers or fellow students, especially if you work in the helping professions - they know better than anyone what you are going through. 
Prioritize your physical health. When you neglect your physical health, you are more likely to burn out - you run out of fuel faster when you have less in the tank to begin with. Prioritize eating healthy meals and getting all the nutrients you need. Make a habit of exercising. Practice good sleep hygiene and try to improve your sleep. 
Talk to your supervisor, advisor or boss. Are there things about your specific work or school environment that could be improved for you? Could you be transferred to a new team? Do your roles and responsibilities need to be clarified so you know exactly what is expected of you? Do you need additional training to do your job well? Are you dealing with harassment that could be reported to HR? See what can be fixed. 
Consider a change. Sometimes you just need a change of pace after a while. Many social workers, for instance, eventually leave the profession - a lot of people simply have a lifetime limit on how long they can do that kind of work before they need to switch to something that doesn’t involve human horror every day. If burnout is a consistent problem, it might be time to think about taking a leave of absence, changing to a different role, or switching careers altogether. 
Hope this answers your question! MM
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hitoshisbabygirl · 3 years
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Author's Notes ♡: okay uhm the more characters I do the more I’m learning I’m a simp-
Anyways welcome to another BNHAREM collab that I had the pleasure to be in! I had fun trying to turn our league of villains leader into a hero/vigilante! A quick side note, his personality here is more of what I think he could’ve been/acted like if he was treated better and taught how to control his quirk without hate qwq without further waiting here’s my addition to the already wonderful collaborators! Make sure to check their stories out too in the masterlist! ~ bunny ❥
Warnings : None!! Fluffy and awkward Shiggy for the win! Also please ignore typos if any they’ll be fixed later </3
Word count : 3.5K
Paring(s) : Tomura Shigaraki x F! Reader
Summary : When the city you live in is rampant with villains what happens when your seabed by a cold and off putting vigilante (that’s my best summary I’m sorry </3)
Enjoy ♡
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Turning off the TV [ ] couldnt help the trembling of her hands as she realized the mayhem that had been spurring the last couple of weeks with the new arrival of villain groups wasnt subsiding. life was hard , the struggle of not to take the news seriously and feeling like all hope was lost was a common feeling between each day, the chore of getting up early during the daylight time so you could get what you needed before crime became rampant was adreanline fueld.. It was nerveracking, living your life on the edge and feeling unable to believe the ones in and on duty would protect you. After weighing the options about staying in or hurrying down the street for food before the curfew kicked in [ ] reluctantly got up, grabbing her keys , phone and a light jacket as she headed throught the decrepit streets, hearing the distant sirens that never failed to doing their job of setting her nerves ablaze. As she saw the neon signs of the store ahead of her she was able to enter and grab quite a lot of things, the warm feeling of being safe surrounding her as she heard more and more sounds from blocks ahead. “Are you okay sweetie?”
An older lady with a young man asked the anxious girl, a smile on her face as she answered the woman “Ah yeah im sorry ma’am just trying to find the best way home without being in the crossfire” Shaking her head in agreement the older woman spoke again “Its running rampant out there, its why i brought my grandson with me” ponting to the male beside her he gave [ ] a smile, holding a bag fro the lady “Now you be safe dearie, look both ways and use the lights to guide you home!” Waving to the pair [ ] felt a bit more relived as she started the shorter but dreaded walk back to her townhome. The area was better than most in cities, just because of how it wasnt in the full downtown that was in a disarray. Even so it was still dangerous and hearing a loud crash and explosion from in front of where [ ] was walking could never be a good thing. As she walked further she saw a group of people blowing up a strip that included a jewelry spot, a small back and shopping center she knew something bad would happen if she got any closer. Walking backward she headed to an abandoned alleyway, slowly trying to get herself in a safe distance away from whoever was destroying the buildings. As she got into a corner she could hear the people talk and yell, the sound of glass breaking and another boom. Jumping form the sound of the explosion getting closer she moved into a doorway of one of the undisturbed buildings in the strip.
Soon however she felt a hand on her arm as one of the guys caught her. As [ ] tried to fight them off she head them chuckle, one taking her face in his hand as the others tried to go through her bags “Well well well hello ther girl, whatcha doing in the Scorpions part of town” One of the men, who [ ] presumed was the leader snared at her, grinning when she turend her ace away from his. Pulling her face back to his he tried to get her to talk, pushing her cheeks together as he laughed “I like them feisty , why dont you just be nice to me and my guys huh?” before she could form her lips to try to get a smart response a sound of pain came from one of the destroyed buildings. Catching the leaders attention he called out to someone before they all heard a yell of watch out. The building, which they had destroyed was now falling over and onto them who were in its path. All [ ] knew was that the guy who grabbed her arm let her go and shoved her before everything whent black.
A cracking sound , one of breaking concrete broke through [ ]’s head as she opened her eyes to blackness, everything around her covered in the sheet of night as the same cracking sound could be heard. Soon a faint voice could be heard from above her. Lightly she yelped which mustve been enough for whoever was above her as teh cracking sound got lounder before she could see light from the moon above her “H-hey is ther someone down there?” A voice called out as [ ] yelled back to them “O-oh yes! Please help me im stuck and i cant move!” She yelled as she felt her leg get tighter as she tried to wiggle.
“Cover your face if you can” The now more male sound voice said as she did such, felling pieces of cement and gravel touch her arms as she moved them to see long whitish blue hair appear before a gloved hand reached out “Can you reach?” The mystery male asked as she jumped up bepfre yeliping in pain. Hearing the sound the male took his ungloved hand and seemilngly dissolved more concreate taht held her and her leg in place. “Hold on….Im coming dont move, you could hurt yourself if you do.” Hopping dwon the hole with her the male saw how she was twisted in her spot and pained expression that covered her facial features. Faced with a challenge the male gave her his gloved hand as he used the uncovered one to break up the rocks and concrete that held her still “Just a little more okay? Youre close I almost got you” He reassured. Soon [ ] felt herself slip up and into the arms of the mystery man who she noticed had his face covered. As he brought her out of the ruble and into the light from the mood and streetlights she looked at her savior. He wasnt large in stature but her was fit and quite strong to pull her up with one arm. Feeling the girl he just saved staring at him , the male turned to her and simply stated “You should go home” Before starting to head off “W-wait! Please, let me thank you properly. You didnt have to save me yet you did” She said as he turned to her “......Theres no need to thank me, just doing what the heroes arent” Starting to walk again [ ] couldnt help chewing her lip before running to join his side “Well can i at least thank you properly , or just get your name and be able to find you again?” stopping in his tracks he moved his hair from his face before crimson eyes glanced at her “Tomura” He said “Huh..?” “My name...Tomura..or MC” He whispered as she shook her head “Tomura...okay well thank you Tomura for saving me , my names [ ]”
Shaking his head Tomura started off again, shoving his gloved hands in his pockets, this time heading off for good. As he trucked along [ ] heard the sirens appear closer to the damage that was the destroyed store that covered the criminals that tried to get her before. Starting to walk off her own she noticed a shining necklace on the ground. Picking it up she noticed it was one you could put pictures in it. Peeking inside she saw a woman with black hair holing a little boy with just as black ahir and piercing red eyes, the woman happily smiling as she held the child. Closing the locket she took with her , feeling strangely drawn to it. As she heaaded home she thought about the mysterious Tomura, someone who looked like a normal civilian like her and others seemd to have a strong quirk, and was more than what he seemed on the outside
As a few days turned into a week rolled on [ ] noticed that the streets were still bad, but the men who had cornered her had been captured after the building had collapsed. Feeling herself sigh and relax [ ] headed for the store once again, this time during the day as she needed to replace the food she had tried getting before that was lost during the the collapse. As she left once again she saw a familiar tuff of periwinkle hair go around the corner. Peeking her interest she followed himas she heard him curse under his breath before turning around straight into her “ow, wait….its you again” He huffed as his crimson eyes looked into hers “Yep! Hey tomu!” The quirky nickname caused head to fill in the mans face as he was glad it was covered. “[ ]....hello” He said back as he continued to pace around the old scene that stil had some concrete in the land “Whatcha looking for…?” She asked as he still looked around “Something important of mines” “Well can i help out?” Sighing Tomura turned to the hopeful girl that for some reason, didnt bother him as many did
“Fine. its a silver locket..” pausing [ ] thought about the locket she found when they first met “It….wouldnt happen to have a woman and a boy in it would it?” As soon as she said that the periwrinkle haired boy turend to her “You found it? Where” reaching out he went to grab her hands only to stop himself and put them at his sides. Ignoring the gesture as nerves she gave him a smile “Well..I found it the day you saved me, it was actually in the rubble” looking at the sparkling eyes of Tomura she couldn’t help but let her smile grow before sighing “Only thing is...it’s at my house now” still looking at him he gave her a smile behind his covering before shaking his own head “That’s fine..if you don’t mind me coming with you, or you just bring it I’m not really.,,yeah” Giggling at his nervousness [. ] put her hand ont his shoulder “It’s fine! Uhm..have you ate dinner yet? I can even cook you something!” Holding up her bag Tomura felt his heart thump as he agreed to eat with her, the two headed for her place.
Looking around Tomura noticed how clean and kept together her place was. It was warm, and inviting, something he wasn’t too used to “I’m sorry it’s a mess here! I was trying to move things around and make it look better but..I feel like it’s still weird!” Laughing she turned to face the powder blue haired boy who stood still in her doorway. “You can come in or would you need a helping hand?” She teased as she held her hand out. Hesitantly held his gloved hand out before pulling away slightly “S-sorry im just.. nervous” he said softly before [. ] gave him a knowing smile, before taking a step back “Well there’s no rush, take a seat and get comfortable, I’ll get your locket and I’ll start dinner!” Walking away [. ] went to her bedroom as Tomura sat there looking at his hands. They held so much fear in them, life and death. Over the years he learned how to control his power, even able to touch things without gloves and them not dissolve. But witr him nervous, he was afraid one wrong touch would hurt or even worse...destroy the one nice person he’d ever met in the midst of the all of the mayhem. In the mist of him thinking [. ] came back and saw him.
Feeling bad and not sure of how to approach him she tenderly held the locket and placed it on the table, which snapped him from his thoughts “Here you are! I did clean the silver so it was more shiny and not as dingy from the dirt” taking the piece from her hands Tomura place it down to see it better than he remembered and still having his grandmother and him inside of it. “Thank you [ ]. It means...alot to me, more thna youd ever know” Going into her kitchen she started some rice as she tried small talk with him “So...have you always been a vigilante?” Thinking abut the response her messed with a piece of his hair “ Well no...i wanted to be a hero one day but...my quirk is less helpful and more destructive” starting to get the steaks out she seasoned then placed them in the oven before siting down at the table with him “I think the power to disintegrate things could be wonderful as a rescuer! Hell you even saved me! And think if you didnt have that quirk , how would you get me out? Plus youre strong, you got me out with only a hand, youre really strong Tomu” Crimson eyes barely met her gaze.
Seeing her own energy mads him smile, hidden beind the mask he wore. “Uhm...may I?” Reaching for a hand [ ] looked at his eyes aas he wavered, sliding them away from her own “When i get nervous i feel like i loose control” Tomura said before [ ] just gently place her pinky on the glove “Im not afraid taht youd hurt me , i trust you okay?” Taking more of his hand in hers she rubbed the back of his glove, feeling the way he tensed wehn she traced his knuckles “See? Its okay yknow!” Smiling she got up to check the food, failing to see the way Tomura was going though a crisis under his mask, face flushing as she stirred and turned it off , letting both the rice and steak cool a bit before serving. Turning around [ ] saw how handsome her savior was. A soft , almost baby looking face was hidden under that protective mask , turned in a small frown as he fiddled with his hands “Wow...youre handsome” Scaring him from his thoughts Tomura couldnt hide the red that flushed his face as she giggled “Thanks...Ive never been told that before” Hearing him say that made [ ]’s heart twinge before grabbing two plates “Well they must not know the true beauty under your mask hm?” bringing over what she made she sat in front of him, handing him a fork before sitting infront of him “Here ya go! I wont say im a chief but I enjoy cooking yknow?” Now able to see him smile without a protection over majority of his face [ ] couldnt help her heart speeding up as he did. A comfortable silence feel between them as they ate and finished dinner, occasional jokes and small talk happening between them. She learned more about the powder blue haired male, that he wanted to be a hero but because he could disintegrate , they made fun of him and called him a villain instead. But finding a locket with a note attached from his grandmother changed that. She was strong, and a hero herself. She encouraged him to be one, for them to meet someday when he was older and him to become a great hero. It kept him strong, and its how hes a vigilante now. Happy to know more of his story [ ] explained how she wanted to be one too, but also wanted to make uniforms for them. The two went on into the night, talking about the issues outside and the running rapid of the villains whileist other things. Tomura learned that she liked video games which opened a whole new world of things thye could do together.
As midnight rolled around he started to get up , grabbing his things which caught [ ]’s attention “Your leaving?” Looking back at the doe like eyes he couldn't help but sigh and smile at her “Yeah...should go out and see whats to been seen” before he left she got up and strolled over to him “Well its unsafe out there, could you...maybe..stay?” With each word her voice got quieter before she was just silent, messing with his fingers “You want me to stay with you?” Tomura asked before she shook her head, eyes meeting his “Yknow youre nice..and i am a bit of a drifter..” Thinking over the odds out loud he gave her a small smile “Ill stay”
And that's how it was for weeks, them staying together in [ ]’s home, eating together, playing games, shopping for groceries. It was a comfortable thing between the two, sharing the place together like roomates. Tomura was like her protector, not letting her get very far without him and [ ] took care of him when he was injured or just needed reassurance. All and all everything was good except….he knew he had fell for her. [ ] was sweeet to him, gentle and overall just careful of how she helped him. She didnt rush him to anything, was gentle and gave him time to relax and to be comfortable with her. It was painful, for them to be close but yet have different opinions on how they feel about being close and for Tomura it was harder than usual for him having a crush on her.
Fiddling with a pen in the kitchen, Tomura heard [ ] come down the hall , skipping up to him as she gave him a smile he learned he was smitten for “Hey Tomu whatcha up to?” she asked as he gave her a smile of his own back “Ah just thinking about something….whats up?” He asked as the girl came over and gave him a hug, something he wasn’t used to but something he craved every day more than he’d like to admit. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders he chuckled as she slightly squeezed him tighter “Just wanted to check on you that’s all.” Going to move away [. ] felt Tomura pull her closer, burying his face atop her head “Tomu...whats wrong?” She asked as he said nothing, tightly holding her even more as she rubbed his back, knowing this was his silent way of showing he was worried about something “wh’ nt y be m’ plr wo” the male said, muffled on her head. Laughing, she moved her chin to his chest “What're you talking about?” He reluctantly pulled away , their eyes locking as he soon looked down, scratching his arm “I..nothing...thinking out loud. Don’t worry about it” Beofre he could slip away she grabbed his arm, turnighg him back to her. “Tomura...what is it?” Chewing his bottom lip he sided before taking her hand in his, rubbing the smooth skin with his rough glove “I said..why can’t you be my player two” Blinking almost comically [. ] giggled “Well I can be! What game do you wanna play?” Shaking his head Tomura dropped her hand , stepping back as he barely glanced at her “This game called life [. ]...I want to...have you around me all the time, I..really cherish having someone so sweet to me and who cares about me and how I feel..you make me feel more alive and comfortable in my skin then I’ve ever felt before..and I..want to be selfish and make you mine..” He finished with a sigh before looking out the window “ But I know you won’t feel the same so..it’s quite alright”
As soon as he said that he felt a hand at the back of his shirt, pulling him back to his crush, a woman he couldn’t face and now that he laid his feelings out he didn’t want her to pity him. “Tomura look at me” Hearing his full name scared him but Turning around he was surprised to see [. ]’s small smile growing to a larger one once he faced her “Here, give me your hand” Holding her own out he put his hand in hers. To make him even more disarray she undid his gloved to reveal his hands, damaged and scarred from before he could control his powers. Soon he felt soft lips his the bare skin, which every kiss an electric shock went through his body before he felt her fingers lace in his. Wide crimson eyes looked at soft [. ] ones as she took in a breath “I..I’m so happy you told me Tomu, I was afraid you were gonna leave here aha..” letting out a soft laugh she unwrapped a hand to hold his face “I would love to be your player two, I’ll be here for you as long as you need me okay?” Giving her a slight pout he barely lifted his own hand to trace a pinky on her cheek “But what if I need you forever” laughing again and moving closer she stood on her toes to rub noses “Then that’s what it’ll be” Becore he could stop himself he realeased her hand and pressed his lips against hers, hearing the soft gasp she let out as he pushed his lips harder on hers before he felt her relax, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissed him back just as hard. As the kiss got from hard and desperate they slowly started to get more intimate, the kiss softening up until Tomura pulled away breathless as [. ] was too, the both of them letting out light giggles “Wow..that was..” “Great..” Finishing his sentence [. ] gave him another hug, the two of them holding eachother in the middle of the floor “Hey [. ]..” he said as she hummed, before he continued “Let’s kiss again” Giggling she moved her head to meet his , lips sealing for another round of needed affection, the Rü them of their hearts drowning out the mayhem that brought them together.
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whatiwouldgive · 3 years
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Sadistic Sabbatical - Part 2
-This is a purely fictional story dedicated to Alphadom_Master-
As I started to open my eyes, I could hear a door unlocking. And I smelled feet. Where was I? The first thing I saw was a dirty sneaker in front of my face. That would explain the smell… but what? Oh shit. The Sun was rising on my new reality… and I was confronted with an immediate overwhelming sense of dread. Those sneakers should be clean by now. It was my fag chore, and I failed. Apparently, I fell asleep after only cleaning 3 pairs of his shoes with my tongue. Fuck! I knew I was in for a world of pain. I gathered up the shoes I had finished cleaning and raced to meet him at the door.
When my Master entered the apartment, I knew I would be punished, but I still felt blessed with his Godly presence. I was determined to take my inevitable punishment in stride, and then worship him properly to prove my worth. He entered the room, and the rest of the world disappeared. The mere sight of him demanded my full attention. He was superior to me in every way, and I felt lucky to receive any attention he would give me (no matter how painful). Apparently one night’s sleep had cemented everything he told me yesterday. I was a hole, I was a urinal, I was a bootlicker, I was a cumdump, I was just an object now, all because of him. He totally exploited my submissive nature - took me to places I had only fantasized about before and showed me my place at his feet. I no longer wanted to escape from this place.
“Thank you Sir for letting me lick your shoes clean.” I dropped to my knees and carefully laid out his shoes on the floor before him for inspection. “Here are the first of them. Notice I even carefully loosed and arranged the laces to prepare them for your feet Sir.” He didn’t even bother to look at them. He just glanced at my mattress still covered with dirty shoes, and let out a sigh of disappointment. “Sir, I am so sorry. I fell asleep. I had traveled all day and then… well you know. It was just a regrettable accident. I promise I will have the rest clean for you as soon as possible. I promise it won’t happen again Sir.”
After a moment of silence, “Do you deserved to be punished for this disappointment, hole?”
I dropped my head. “If I disappoint you Master, I deserve to be punished Sir.” I started to open my mouth to beg him for leniency, but I gave up. I knew better than to expect any leniency from my Master.
He calmly walked over to a cabinet and opened it. I could tell he was carefully considering my punishment. He picked out a couple items and turned to me. “Bend over the arm of the couch you worthless fag.” I immediately obeyed. I presented my naked, sore battered ass in the air with my chest on the seat of the couch as soon as I could. Apparently the first tool he had chosen was and ankle spreader. A metal bar with metal manacles locked my legs open as far as they would go. The second tool he choose was a leather whip. He made sure I got a good look at it. He grabbed a dirty sock that was stuffed in one of the dirty sneakers laying on my mattress and shoved it in my mouth. “This will help to muffle your screams.”
He placed his foot between my shoulder blades, and applied his weight. Tears were already falling from my eyes as I gripped the couch cushions. I wasn’t sure what was about to happen, but I knew it would be painful. “I’m very disappointed in you, hole. This is going to hurt you way more than it hurts me.” And then he flung his whip and made contact with my ass hole… I mean pussy. He had called my ass a pussy yesterday, but It was clear he knew where the “sweet spot” was. I screamed into his dirty sock and started to shake, but his foot held me in place. The second strike managed to hit my balls and my pussy at the same time. I was screaming and thrashing as hard as I could, but he simply applied more weight to my back preventing any hope for escape. He whipped my pussy again, and again. I had never experience pain like that before. When he finished, he carefully put his tools back in their places, but I didn’t dare break position. I just pushed my face into the couch and tried to hide how hard I was crying. He grabbed my hair and pulled my face up. “Don’t ever hide your tears from me hole. Those tears are mine to enjoy.” He removed the sock, and I started sobbing. “I’m so sorry Master.” I got on my knees and hugged him around his waist. I continued to cry loudly pushing myself further into his waist as I continued to sob, “I’m so, so sorry Master. Please forgive me.”
He put his hand on my head, rubbed his fingers through my hair, and patiently waited for me to finish crying. “I forgive you hole. You just haven’t truly learned you place yet. As your alpha Master, I recognize you are trying, but you need more training. You are lucky I am so patient.” I looked pathetically up into his cold eyes and said, “Thank you Sir.”
“I came to feed you.” He pulled away and grabbed a couple bananas he brought with him off the counter. He dropped them onto the floor, hocked a loogie on them and smashed them under his shoes. He made mushy mess of them, and wasn’t shy about getting the mess on the trainers he was wearing. He slid off his dirty trainers, backed away from the mess and said, “breakfast is served, hole.” I was starving, so I raced over and hungerly started lapping up the mess from the floor and his shoes. “Thank you Sir.”
He looked down at me and told me to eat up and get back to work on my fag chores. There was a game on later, and he would be back to use me. “Let me give you something to wash that down with fag.” He picked up a large glass and filled it with warm alpha piss. “Enjoy.” He set the glass on the floor beside me. “Thank you Sir.” I chugged his piss. “Good boy. I will make a worthy hole of you yet.”
I had just finished licking the rest of his shoes clean when he returned. I greeted him at the door on my knees. “How may I serve you Master?” He kicked me in the gut several times and said, “Face down, pussy up faggot.” I groaned in pain and assumed the position. He shoved a finger in me sending pain shooting through my entire body. “How’s that pussy doing?” A second figure entered me. I couldn’t stop myself from screaming this time. “You’re pussy’s on fire fag. Still hot from that beating I gave you I see.” He pulled out.
“How would you like to service my cock, you pathetic slutty hole?” I scrambled to assume the position on my knees in front of him. “Yes Sir. God I want it bad Sir. Please Master. I’m so horny since you took my penis away. Please. I’m begging you Master. Please allow me to service your alpha cock. I need it Sir. I need it so bad. I’m desperate to suck your cock. Please Master, Please!” My little metal clit was leaking like crazy. He pulled his shorts down just enough to reveal the bulge in his underwear. “Take a whiff of a superior man’s cock.” Like a pervert, I put my nose in his crotch and inhaled deeply. The smell was pure masculine heaven. I couldn’t get enough.
“I haven’t showered, hole. You like sweaty, unwashed cock?”
“Yes Sir. It smells so good. I want to lick your cock and balls clean Sir. I want to taste it so bad. Please let me taste it Master.”
“Think about that fag while I take you for a little walk.” He threw some clothes on the ground. “But Sir, your cock?” I got a back-handed slap for that outburst. “Get dressed now!” I obeyed. The shorts he gave me were tight and clearly showed off my cage. A wet spot started to form from my leaking clit. Did he really expect me to go in public like this? “Don’t worry fag. We’re not going far.” He handed me my wallet. Once I was dressed and standing, he put his hand on the back of my neck and lead me out the door.
I kept my head down and walked close to him just behind his left shoulder. He was right. We didn’t go far. I followed him to an ATM just down the block from his building. “Are you still thinking about my cock faggot?”
“Yes Sir.”
“Good. Pull up your bank balance.” I obeyed. He looked at the screen. “Are you kidding me fag? You only have 500 dollars in your account?” I didn’t need to say anything. It was all there in front of him. “I want it all fag. Withdraw it all for me.” I obeyed. I handed him the entire contents of my bank account in cash. A slight smirk appeared on his face. He put his hand on the back of my neck like he was some sort of father figure. “The lesson you just learned is that whatever is yours is actually mine fag. When you drink another man’s piss and beg to suck his dick, that man owns you. Do you understand that you are my property now? Do you understand that I am going to take everything from you so that all you have left is me? You’re whole life is going to become so much more simple from now on. All you have to worry about is bringing me pleasure. You were begging to please me right? Well now, it’s your life’s purpose. It’s what you were begging for, and you got it fag. You should be so proud of yourself.”
I was so focused on what he was saying, I didn’t even remember the walk back to the apartment. Before I knew it I was naked again and on my knees in front of him again. Nothing seemed real. It was like I was in a trance. He had mind-fucked me so hard I was delirious.
“Hey! Faggot! Go get me a beer. Now!” I suddenly snapped back to this twisted reality. He was sitting on the couch watching a football match on the television. “Yes Sir.” I fetched him a beer a knelt down in front of him again waiting for my next command. He started to rub his crotch “Damn I’m feeling horny. OK faggot, it’s your lucky day. Sometimes I get this way after draining a cashfag.” He pushed his pants and underwear down to his ankles and spread his knees apart to reveal the thing I wanted more than anything in the world – his amazing alpha cock! “Get between my legs now fag.” He put both his feet on the coffee table but kept his knees far enough apart for me to crawl under and get between them. When he dropped his feet back to the floor with his pants and underwear still around his ankles, I was trapped in place facing his cock.
“OK, fag time for your next lesson.” He gripped his hard cock with his hand. “You are the only fag here. So, you will keep your hands behind your back. You will quietly sit there and watch. I know all your slutty little cumdump instincts will be telling you to lean in and start sucking my dick, but unfortunately for you, I’m straight. I don’t need a fag to suck my dick. I’m just teaching you a lesson right now.” He was slowly stroking his perfect cock. I didn’t dare say a word. When his hand was at the base, he is would squeeze it. And then he pull on it as he stroked upward… again gripping a little tighter just below the head of that amazing dick until it was fully engorged and hard as a rock. And, it was just inches in front of my face. With my pathetic little sub penis locked away, all I could do was watch and try to imagine the pleasure of having a real cock like my Master’s.
“Oh yeah, this feels so good fag.” He wasn’t even looking at me. He spit into his hand and used it a lube. “Soak it all in homo. This is what a real man’s cock looks like. I know you can smell it from there, so take a whiff and watch a real man enjoy himself.” I was almost in tears as precum dripped from my worthless little clit. He began to stroke faster, and continued to relentlessly taunt me. Why wouldn’t he let me suck it? This was just pure, sadistic cruelty. He wouldn’t be the first straight man to use a fag for a blow job. I was right there and more than willing. As he got closer and closer to climax, I strained my neck to get closer hoping that he might chose to cum on my face or in my mouth. “So sad you can’t feel how amazing this feels faggot. Damn, it feels so good. I just love jerking off after draining subs like you. Too bad you don’t have a penis anymore.” And then he finally came, but not on me though. Instead, he cupped his hand around the head of his cock as he climaxed, collecting as much jizz in his hand as he could. “Oh fuck yeah. That feels so… uh… yeah… uh.. oh yes! Oh fag, I bet you wish you could feel what I’m feeling right now.”
I watched pathetically as he started to relax from his high. I was leaking so much there was a puddle on the floor. He just laid back and took a few deep breaths before addressing me. “Ok you slutty little fag. I’ve got a handful of jizz now. Do you want it?”
“Please let me have it Master. I’m your hole, you turned me into a cumdump. Please let me swallow your jizz Sir. I’ll do anything to eat your load Master.”
He looked down at me with an evil look in his eyes. “Who said anything about eating it? I would much rather see you snort it up your fag nose where it will burn and linger so that you can enjoy it longer.” I looked down at the sea of cum in his hand. “What the fuck are you waiting for faggot?” Fuck me! Every time I thought I couldn’t sink any lower, this man proved me wrong. I thought all my dignity had been stripped already but, again, I was wrong. So, I pressed one nostril and began to snort his jizz like I was a crack addict. I alternated nostrils until I had snorted as much as I possibly could. And when I was done, he wiped his hand clean on my face and in my hair. All I could smell was his jizz, and I quickly started to taste it as it dripped down the back of my throat. I kept sniffling to keep it from dripping out of my nose. My eyes were watering as I choked, and the jizz I had just ingested filled my mouth so I got another good taste of it before swallowing back down again. As painful and humiliating as it was, I couldn’t deny that I actually enjoyed the smell and taste of his cum.
And, thankfully, I had finally pleased him. He was chuckling as he pulled his pants up and told me to get him another beer. I would spend the rest of the night on hands and knees as his footrest, only getting up if ordered to get him anther beer. He didn’t even piss in my mouth hole, because he didn’t want to wash away the smell or taste of his jizz from my palate.
-To be continued. Very excited to reveal that part 3 will be a special chapter focused on the question: “What would AlphaDom_Master do with two naked subs begging for his attention at the same time?”-
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Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered
‘He's a fool and don't I know it,
But a fool can have his charms,
I'm in love and don't I show it,
Like a babe in arms’
It was only a matter of time before this would happen. Richard  was getting sick of having to tidy the flat up alone, because his flatmate, Oscar, was too lazy and self-important to do it himself. They’ve only been living together for a few weeks and Richard was dreading the next few months of having to come home from work to clean up after Oscar.
‘Seriously, it’s not that hard to clear up after you’re done with it’, he thought.
 Being honest, Richard didn’t even mind tidying up most of the time - he actually found it relaxing seeing a messy room become a tidy one - but this was getting out of hand. Richard would come home, hungry and tired, and before he could even start cooking dinner for himself he’d have to clean up all the utensils and pans, which he’d then have to wash up after cooking.
‘That’s it, I’ve got to do something about this’. 
And with that, Richard began devising a plan to figure out how he could convince his messy flatmate to be a bit more tidy, the sooner the better. Realistically, he couldn’t think of any way he could bribe or convince him to clean up after himself. Oscar made a much larger salary than Richard and so couldn’t be persuaded with money - the only reason Richard thinks Oscar has a flatmate is so he can have a free cleaning service. Not only that, but Oscar was a very persuasive guy himself, and Richard was afraid if he tried to talk to him about it, he’d be able to talk his way out of it, and have Richard do even more work. So he decided to look for a more indirect way of getting what he wanted, and found the perfect way to do it.
As long as they’ve been living together, Oscar has been a total gym freak. He’d go straight from work to the gym for a few hours, come home reeking of sweat, shower and then make food, destroying the kitchen. Not only that, but he could be found listening to those stupid motivational tapes at all times, something about how if he keeps positive thoughts and moods, good things will happen for him. ‘Brilliant’, Richard thought to himself, with a devious smirk.
‘If he’s gonna treat me like a 50s housewife, then I’ll just have to make him my perfect husband’.
Richard turned to google to search for hypnotists. Richard hit them up mentioning his situation and asking about the possibility of creating a motivational tape, with hidden messages of love and adoration for him. Unsurprisingly, a lot of them turned him down, saying that it would likely fail and even so, would be highly unethical. 
Just as he thought he’d have to give up, he got a response from one of the shiftier-seeming guys, saying that he’d love to try it out. After paying an exorbitant amount of money for the tape, and a couple weeks waiting for the tape to arrive, ‘your life will be so different neither of you will want to go back’ was all that was attached to the tape, and with that, Richard was finally able to put his plan into motion.
‘Hey Oscar, I know you love those motivational tapes you’re always using. So, I went to the market the other day and managed to find this. I hope you like it.’ 
Richard hoped Oscar wouldn’t be too taken aback from his sudden gift-giving, but to his luck he happily took it, making sure to put it on his laptop with a ‘thanks mate’, and before long, Richard could tell that his clueless flatmate was listening to his special tape.
The more Oscar listened to the tape over time, Richard could see its influences on his flatmate’s behaviour - the kitchen was starting to look cleaner after he’d cooked, he’d started taking the rubbish out each week and he’d act more gentlemanly towards Richard , once even pulling a chair out for him to sit on, before wondering why on earth he ever did that. Richard just pretended to never notice, meanwhile deviously enjoying every moment of it.
Along with this new gentlemanly and tidy behaviour, Richard could see that Oscar was beginning to act more dominantly with him, almost like an old-fashioned husband would act with his wife. When they’d go out to eat together in a restaurant, Oscar would insist on paying, no matter how much Richard would insist on splitting the bill. Then, when they’d go to a pub to watch the football together, or just to have a quick drink, Richard found that Oscar would sit them down in one of the booths and wrap his arm around him, and he began to enjoy the feeling of Oscar taking care of him.
All of a sudden, Richard ’s plan took a complete 180 degree turn, when out of nowhere, Oscar called him into the living room and told him that he should quit his job. 
‘I just don’t think it’s good for you to be doing so much housework alongside having a job’, Oscar explained, in a tone that was more of Oscar telling why he would be quitting his job, instead of why he should quit. 
‘But I like my job, it’s something I really enjoy doing. And I’ve put so much work into it that I don’t want to throw away.’, Richard was perplexed as to why he was trying to reason with his flatmate, instead of just flat out rejecting the proposal. 
‘I know you have honey but like you said, you’ve put so much work into your job and yet you haven’t really made any progress in it. How long have you been working there, about 5 years since you left uni? And you’ve never been promoted, and have only had a couple pay rises. Why would you want to stay there and be treated like shit when you could stay at home, doing the chores. I know I’d be a lot more grateful for the work you do than they have been. Don’t worry, I make enough money for the both of us as it is, I’ll be able to take care of you’.
Richard began to think it through, and found himself beginning to agree more and more with Oscar, why keep working in this deadend job when he could let Oscar do all the work. How hard is it to cook and clean all day, they’re already things he enjoyed doing anyway, so in theory he’d enjoy his day just as much, if not more, as he does in his job now. 
‘OK, I’ll quit my job and do the chores’. 
‘Great, I knew my tapes would work’ Oscar said to himself in satisfaction.
‘What tapes?’ Richard questioned, surprised to hear anything like that coming from Oscar.
‘Alright, don’t get mad at me honey, but recently I’ve realised that I want you to be more than just my flatmate, I want you to be mine. Mine emotionally, physically, and sexually. So I got some hypnotist dude to make a tape to make you more obedient and subservient to me. I’ve slowly been turning you into my perfect obedient boy for weeks now. And now I’ve finally got you’.
Richard was certainly shocked to hear that the man he’d been hypnotising had also been hypnotising him, but upon taking all of what he said in, he realised that he also wanted what Oscar wanted. He wanted to belong to Oscar, to be his emotionally, physically and most importantly, to be his sexually. He enjoyed acting more obediently toward Oscar and loved the satisfaction and pride he’d get when it was acknowledged. So, to be honest, Richard couldn’t be mad for what Oscar did, in fact all he felt was gratitude that Oscar chose him.
Seeing that Richard was now his, Oscar scooped his now boyfriend into his before taking him to bed. There they consummated their newfound relationship. Oscar was only just able to keep himself from cumming whilst Richard blew him, and found there was no taste he enjoyed more than that of his new lover’s ass, as he kept licking and licking to get more of that sweet taste, much to the delight of Richard, paralysed by the pleasure of Oscar’s tongue on his asshole. Finally, neither of them could believe the immense pleasure they found when Oscar first put his thick dick up Richard’s perfectly lubed ass. 
From that night on, Oscar and Richard were a modern version of the perfect 50s couple, with the hunky, dominant breadwinner - Oscar,
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 with his beautiful, subservient housewife - Richard,
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and although it wasn’t what Richard had originally planned for him and Oscar, now that it was his life, he couldn’t think of anything better. 
As for Oscar, he loved when he’d come home from work to see his loving husband scrubbing the floors, naked on his hands and knees, with his tasty and fuckable asshole pointing towards the sky, and Oscar would make sure to do both of those things before the night was through.
Hey, it’s Archie here, so I’ve decided to make a bit of a change with the blog, with less of a focus on just celebrities and moreso on just hot guys in general being hypnotised. I’ve found that I’ve been coming up with a few hot situations to write, but was unable to link it to any specific celebrity, and I’d also like to make my blog stand out a bit more.
Also, feel free to write me any asks or suggestions for any stories you’d like to see me write. I’m still gonna be writing stories about celebrities so don’t let my new direction put you off, I’ll still be up to making any of your perverse fantasies a reality haha.
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blazingmovement · 3 years
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Nightmares- Part 1
Not super proud over this one, but I still wanted to post it. A fluff “series” with Cullen Rutherford and the Iron Bull, (I do have a weakness for the Bull, I know). Basically, Cullen can’t sleep since he is haunted by nightmares from what happened at the Circle of Magi. Bull wants to help. 
Part 1 of ???
“Cullen don’t you want me? Let me in and I’m yours” she said with a crooked smile. 
“No, no… leave me alone Demon! Just leave me alone...”
“Let me in Cullen… Just let me in…” 
“GO AWAY! I will not break....!” With a flash, the vision was gone and Cullen found himself on the cold floor of the circle of Magi, surrounded by the magic barrier which held him prisoner. Outside the barrier stod one of the blood mages who sought to enter his mind and turn him into something twisted. 
“Such a stubborn one! Wouldn’t it be easier to just give in? Think of the great you would do” said the blood mage whilst slowly running her fingers across the outside of the barrier which imprisoned Cullen.
“Such a sweet boy” the mage purred, “give me time sweet, and I will find what will break you…” she smirked at Cullen who laid on his knees on the cold floor, covering his ears in an attempt to block out the mage's malicious words. Cullen was exhausted after days without food and water, also after the amount of mental abuse which the mages had inflicted on him. The mage found Cullens attempt to shut her out amusing and laughed at him.
“You think that will keep me out?” the mage hummed ominously.
“Enough visions! If anything in you is human, kill me now...!” Cullen begged the observing mage, laying his forehead down on the cold stone floor. A smile slowly curled on the mage’s lips as she heard his pleas.   
 “Well pet, what’s the fun in that?” she said laughing as she once again tried to invade Cullen’s mind with her blood magic whilst he screamed out in agony…
Cullen woke up with a shock, his heart pounding in his chest and his body feeling sticky from all the sweat. He gasped for air and clutched his sheets as he looked around his room, ensuring that he was in fact still in Skyhold and not at the circle. It was dark outside and Cullen could see through the hole in his bedroom’s roof that the stars were still out, indicating that he must have slept no longer than two hours or so. This was the fourth night this had happened. Cullen was used to the nightmares, but he had never thought they would become insufferable without Lyrium.
“Makers breath”, Cullen sighed as he sat up in his bed, the chilly night air nibbling at him. Cassandra and the others had told him many times that he should patch up the hole in the roof, but Cullen always had other priorities which he put before his own comfort. He had vowed to not give any less to the Inquisition than he had given to the Templars, and this was a vow he intended to keep, no matter the consequences. He had thought of commencing his Lyrium intake once again to achieve this goal, but Inquisitor Lavellan had told him to be strong, she had ensured him that he could be without it. And for her sake, for the hope she had in him, he could not let her down. These nightmares, however, did his vow no favour since they caused him to be without sleep which affected his ability to confront his daily chores. The horrifying nightmares had now awoken him several nights, and Cullen had learned that as soon he sought the embrace of sleep, the nightmares would creep up on him once again. He had tried during the last several nights to have the benefit of the doubt, he was hoping that if he just tried falling asleep, the nightmares might not come. But every night he was proved wrong. Recently, he had given up on trying to fall asleep once again after being woken up by nightmares, the fear of enduring the nightmares were worse than not sleeping at all according to Cullen. So instead, he had begun tackling the workload on his desk during the nights. There was always something that needed the attention of the Commander of the Inquisition, and Cullen appreciated whatever could evade him from recalling what had happened at the circle of magi. By doing this, Cullen thought he could still prove his worth to the Inquisition, even though it might result in him being a bit more tired during the days.
Cullen sighed and brushed his golden hair from his forehead. Cullen then arose from his bed and started to get dressed since he had no further intention to seek solace in sleep for the night. He adorned his armour and wrapped the red fur over his shoulders, climbing down the ladder to greet the workload of paper awaiting him. 
As the night transformed into day, the sun danced on the papers which Cullen had been working on informing him that the day was about to begin. Cullen felt weary since he had only been sleeping approximately two hours per night for the last several nights, but he would not allow this to disturb him. Cullen gathered his belongings and headed towards the pub, where breakfast soon would be served. 
As he entered the pub, the conventional sound of people talking, tableware scraping and the familiar smell of fried eggs and porridge filled his senses.
“Makers let them have coffee…” Cullen thought to himself as he went to fetch some breakfast. Recently, Cullen had been drinking way more coffee than usual, he needed to find some way to focus on the tasks at hand instead of his intense lust to simply curl up into a ball and fall asleep. What a dilemma, wanting to sleep but dreading the nightmares that he knew would follow sleeps predicament. Cullen grabbed a bowl of porridge and a steaming cup of hot coffee and spied across the tavern for a place to sit down. Inquisitor Lavellan was (as per usual) up early and eating her breakfast. Next to her sat Josephine, Leliana, Cassandra and Dorian, discussing something which seemed to relate to shoes. Cassandra did not seem too eager to engage in the topic at hand. As Cullen spied across the bar, looking for a free place to sit, the Iron Bull waved him over.
“Cullen, over here”.
The Iron Bull sat among Sera and his charger at a larger table, laughing and chatting. Cullen complied with his request and headed towards the table. Cullen sat down next to Bull with the talkative group, the conversation already underway.
“What I wouldn’t give for some hot cocoa….”
“Dalish, can’t you whip some up with that staff of yours?” 
“I told you, it’s not a staff it’s a bow”
“A bow with a giant crystal at the end?”
“It helps with aiming, old Dalish trick, you wouldn’t understand”, Dalish said, snickering at Krem and the others at the table as they continued to discuss and chatter. 
Cullen didn’t listen too well and instead started taking big gulps of his coffee, feeling it slightly burn down his throat on the way down. 
“Ey there commander, the coffee won’t run away from you ya know” Sera snickered at Cullen. Bull let out a laugh and gazed attentively at Cullen. Sera then diverted her attention back towards the others as Cullen simply continued drinking his coffee, ignoring her statement.  
“Feeling a bit tired today are we?” the Bull said as he gazed down on Cullen with a small smile. Cullen himself was a well-built man, Templar training did that to you. But when sitting next to Bull, who was big even for a Qunari, Cullen felt tiny. 
“Just had a lot of work to do last night”, Cullen said, quickly gazing up towards Bull before he delved back into his coffee once more. He could feel the Bull’s eye lingering on him, inspecting him. 
“Just don’t work yourself to death”, Bull said sounding somewhat concerned as he laid one of his huge hands on Cullen’s shoulder, giving him a light squeeze. A warmth spread from the Qunarie’s hand, and Cullen did not know why, but he could feel his cheeks slightly blush at the Bull’s touch.    
   After a long day of meetings and chores, night once again came to place and Cullen was walking towards the ramparts, heading to his quarters. Cullen had already decided to abstain from sleeping this night. The thought of once again having to face the horrifying nightmares terrified him to his very bones, and he would rather stay awake than risk reliving the nightmares once again. 
Cullen went up the stairs of the ramparts towards his courter as the dark of night set in and stopped outside his door. The rest of Skyhold was already fast asleep or spending the evening in more preferable ways than this. Cullen could of course join some of his friends to spend the evening in a better way as well, but he didn’t want to trouble them and he didn’t think himself worthy of taking a night off since he barely was able to concentrate on his tasks during the day. First when he had managed to live up to the demands of the Inquisition, then he would allow himself to take some time off, he told himself. So as of now, what laid before him was work. But even though Cullen had made himself sure that this was the truth, he could not convince his legs to enter the room. Cullen sighed and looked towards the peaky snowy mountains which surrounded Skyhold as he leaned over the battlement and reflected on how serene and quiet the night could be even though there was a storm in his mind.
“Admiring the surroundings, are we?” 
Cullen gasped surprised and turned around to see the Iron Bull leaning towards the ramparts. 
“Makers breath,” Cullen said, surprised that he had not heard the giant Qunari sneak upon him. But several nights without sleep had of course dulled his senses. The Iron Bull laughed warmly at Cullens flustered state.  
“At ease commander, I come in peace,” Bull chuckled and smirked at Cullen. Cullen felt embarrassed over his flustered state and quickly straightened his back as he snapped back into his Templar training. 
“Is there anything I could do for you, the Iron Bull?” Cullen asked, trying to sound as composed as possible. The Bull smirked at Cullen and seemed to take pleasure in the former templars attempt to remain ever in control.
“Well, it’s more what I could do for you, Commander”, the Iron Bull replied.
“Wha… What? Excuse me?” Cullen said, stumped at the Bull’s statement. What could he mean by that? Cullen couldn’t recall anything that he might need the Bull’s help. But, perhaps the Inquisitor had asked the Bull to help with training the recruits or somewhat like that.
And as if Bull could see how Cullens mind started to race, he said:
“It’s nothing to do with the Inquisition Commander”. 
Cullen was slightly surprised by this statement since he could not think of any other area that could require the Bull’s help. 
Bull observed Cullens reactions closely, and as he could see how Cullen grew somewhat perplexed over his statement, he decided to get straight to the point.
“For how long haven’t you slept?” Bull asked, sounding somewhat concerned. 
“I… How did you…?” Cullen stuttered, surprised that someone had actually noted that he had not slept relatively well for the last several days. Cullen deemed that he had done a good job disguising it, trying his best to be as effective as ever, even though exhaustion had crept itself upon him during the days.
“Ben-Hassrath, remember?” Bull said with a twinkle in his eye that almost made Cullen blush.
“Oh yes... Of course”, Cullen said, avoiding Bulls inspecting gaze whilst he tried to compose himself.
“So how long?”, Bull asked once again.
“Well, I mean… Only a couple of days. But… I… I am quite fine thank you” Cullen said, quite embarrassed that this mercenary seemed to care about Cullens sleeping habits and well being. Bull let out another rumbling chuckle, smiling at how flustered Cullen became over Bull’s questions. Bull assumed that he was not used to people caring for him in this manner of way. Instead, he expected that it usually was the other way around, that Cullen was the one who posed as the caring party. Therefore, he was probably not accustomed to others seeking to bring him comfort. This Bull intended to change. 
“You wanna talk about it?” Bull said, concernedly examining Cullen with his eye. 
 “I… I have some work that needs my attention…” Cullen replied, feeling his cheeks blush under the Bulls inspecting gaze.  
“Come on down to the bar, grab a drink. The work can wait a while”, Bull stated as he stopped leaning against the rampart, showing the real height difference between the two.  
“Oh… okay… But isn’t the bar closed?” Cullen asked as he followed Bull.
“It’s never closed for those who know where the booze is,” Bull said chuckling. 
The bar which normally was swarming with happy patrons was now empty. Bull headed towards the bar and pulled up two large mugs and filled them with something he grabbed from his own pocket.  
“What’s that?” Cullen asked.
“A little something from Par Vollen. Something to put some chest on your chest. Drink!” Bull said and handed him one of the hunormous mugs. Perhaps he shouldn’t, Cullen thought to himself. But since Bull had already begun to heave his own drink, Cullen felt it would be impolite to refuse. He raised the mug and took a sip of the sharp smelling drink. As the substance passed down his throat, he could feel it burn as if set on fire. Cullen started coughing loudly, surprised at how strong the drink actually was. 
“The second cup’s easier. Most of the nerves in your throat are dead after the first one”, Bull said laughing.    
“I’m not sure my throat would survive more”, Cullen said, glancing down into the still over-filled mug in his hands. 
“Maraas-Lok! Drink!” Bull said chuckling at Cullen. 
Cullen felt it rude to decline and took another deep chug of the strong alcohol. One again he started coughing and could already feel his head starting to spin a bit. Cullen didn’t have a chance, the stuff was extremely strong, and the fact that he was exhausted only made him drunk faster. 
“There we go, down the hatch,” Bull said, smiling encouragingly towards Cullen. 
Cullen chugged the rest of the content of the mug down his throat, the stuff going down slightly easier this time since the alcohol had already numbed his throat since before, as Bull had said. He could feel his mind becoming somewhat foggy, and the alcohol made him slump in his posture a tiny bit. Bull seemed to notice and smiled teasingly at him. Cullen blushed quickly and tried to regain his proper templar posture under Bull's teasing look.
“So are you ready to talk now? Bull said, crossing the bar and setting himself down on a chair next to Cullen. Bull turned his body so he faced Cullen and gave him his full attention whilst listening attentively to every word Cullen said.
“Well, I… I’ve just had some problems with nightmares the recent nights… So I’ve had some trouble sleeping, that’s all”, Cullen said as he slightly bit his lip and looked down into his now empty mug as he felt it too embarrassing to gaze into the large Qunarie’s eye. Cullen usually wouldn’t have told the Bull this, but the alcohol had made him let loose a bit.  
“So how many nights has it been like that?” Bull asked, concerned. It surprised Cullen how soft he could sound. This towering hulk of a Qunarie who fought dragons as if they were nothing, and here he was sitting next to Cullen, concerned if Cullen was sleeping enough or not.
“A week or two perhaps?” Cullen answered, still staring down into the bottom of his mug.
“Mhm,” the Bull hummed as he inspected Cullen. Bull was so close to Cullen that he would touch him if he just would lean in a bit. Cullen could feel the warmth that was radiating from Bull's body and a thought crossed his drunk mind over how easy it would be to just lean into him and cuddle up in his warm embrace. Cullen quickly combatted the notion as his posture grow stiff as he felt his ears growing hot from the thought.
“So what are these nightmares about?” Bull asked.
“I… I’d rather not say” Cullen answered. He was aware that Bull probably already knew about Cullen's past, it wasn’t exactly a secret. But he didn’t feel comfortable enough to reveal the memories which hunted him nightly yet, even under the influence of alcohol. Or rather, he felt too ashamed to talk about them. 
“I understand, you don’t have to,” Bull hummed. Bull then laid one of his hands across Cullens back. It was so big that it covered the most part of his upper back. Cullen froze from the unexpected touch and almost stopped breathing for a second. Why did Bull’s touch affect him in this way, he thought to himself. 
“I think I know what your problem is Commander” Bull said smirking, as he still held his hand firmly on Cullens back. “And I know what could help”.
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juliussneezerfics · 4 years
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Seborga: One-Time Party Planner
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No problemo, dude! Prompts are prompts, no matter who they’re from! Unfortunately, I had a limited amount of time to write this fic before midnight tonight, so I couldn’t take you up on that challenge. It’s also a lot longer than I thought! But whatever. Hope you enjoy!
Ao3
With his brothers' birthday coming up, Seborga wants to plan the ultimate surprise party for them. He then realizes he may be a little in over his head and enlists the help of some friends.
***********
Seborga’s feet slapped the tiles of his kitchen as he cooked. It was about lunch time and he was making something light to eat. Something light to eat that wasn’t a salad, anyway. He was unable to understand how his brothers ate salads regularly. On an ordinary day, he would be singing to himself and shuffling across the tiled floor. Today, however, his mind was occupied. His 
brothers’ birthday was about a month from that day and he was figuring out logistics. He finished his sandwich and carried it into the living room. His coffee table was strewn with assorted papers detailing guests and things he still needed to do to have the party set up within a month.
He knew that he had a month to get it all done. To conduct a surprise party with this many guests was already difficult, but Seborga knew that on the day of their birthday he would be invited over to spend the day with them. Birthdays in their family was all about family and spending time together. But, Italy liked to consider the world his family, right? Surely the two wouldn't be too mad at a surprise party.
He scanned the guest list, chewing a bite of his sandwich. The first few guests were obvious, but how big should the party be? Of course, whenever Seborga did anything, he did it with style. The invitations list ended up being a page and a half long. Perhaps he was guilty of inviting a couple of his own friends, but of course planning a surprise party of this magnitude earned its own reward. Seborga wouldn't say he dreaded this part, but he knew that the start of planning the party, all the work, all the well-meaning deceit would start with the first phone call. Steeling his reserve, he started with the top of the list.
“Sebby!” Spain’s voice greeted, tinny over the phone speaker. “How great of you to call! To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Well, as you know Feliciano and Lovino have an upcoming birthday-”
“On the seventeenth!” Spain interrupted. “I was just about to call you, actually! I wanted to take you three out to lunch to celebrate your brothers’ birthday.”
Seborga smiled. “Aww, Toni, that’s so kind of you! Actually, I was just about to invite you to a surprise party.”
“Ooh, seriously?” Spain sounded excited by the very prospect. “When?”
“I was thinking this evening.”
“Oh, so you won’t be able to make it for lunch.” Spain realized.
Seborga’s smile widened as he got an idea. “Actually, hang on. Can you occupy Feli and Lovi while we set up the party?”
“Of course! Hey, if you want you can host it at my house that way you three don't have to worry about cleaning up after the party.”
“Oh, that’s actually perfect!” Seborga was touched by Spain’s generosity. “Thank you so much, Toni!”
“No problem. So, how about I go over to pick them up around eleven. You can be sick or something so you can set up for the party at my house. When do I take them back to my house?”
“Um…” Seborga hadn’t thought that far. “Maybe around five thirty?”
"Sounds good. You can have everyone park behind the house that way they don't see all the cars before they head inside."
"Won't that mess up your lawn?"
"Eh." Spain said flippantly. "Grass is grass. It all grows back."
“I suppose so. Antonio, I can’t thank you enough for this.”
“Oh, anything for family!” Spain responded. “I’ll see you on the seventeenth!”
“See you then! Thanks, Toni! Oh, could you also invite…” Seborga leaned forward and went down his list. “France and Portugal?”
“Sure! Goodbye!”
“Bye!”
Seborga hanged up the phone, a weight lifted off his shoulders as he thought about what this meant for the setup of the party. Six and a half hours to set up. That would be fine, right? Then he happened to catch a glance of the guest list. How was he supposed to cook for all those people and decorate Spain’s house for the party? He would find a way. He had to. He leaned forward and crossed out Spain’s, France’s, and Prussia’s names. Okay. That was fine. Everyone he invited so far seemed to have good relationships with each other. Nothing to worry about. He hated to not invite certain people based on political circumstances and relationships between each other, but it was more important to have a friendly party than have a couple extra guests. Next on the list was Germany.
“Hello, Sebatian.” Germany’s curt voice greeted.
“Hi, Germany!” Seborga began. “Listen. I’m having a birthday party for my brothers on the seventeenth of March and I was wondering if that would work for you!”
“Of course. What time is it?”
“Five thirty at Spain’s house.”
“I can make it.” Germany said after a slight pause where he was likely checking his calendar. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Oh! Um…” Seborga hadn’t been expecting offers of help. “Actually, would you mind coming over a few hours early and helping me decorate? I’m sorry, I normally wouldn’t ask, but it’s just a lot for one person to do.”
“I’ll be over at two.” Germany answered.
“Wonderful! I can’t thank you enough, Germany.”
“No problem. I’m happy to help.”
Seborga smiled. Despite the joyful words Germany said, his words sounded monotone, as per his cadence of speaking. “Would you mind also inviting your brother, Liechtenstein, Switzerland, Austria, Hungary, and Russia and his siblings?”
"Hold on, would you mind repeating that? I have to write that down."
"Of course." Seborga laughed. "Sorry, I suppose that's a lot to remember." He slowly repeated the list.
“I can invite all of them, but I’m not exactly close to Russia and his family.” Germany said apologetically.
“But Hungary hangs out with Ukraine, right? So maybe she can make that happen?”
“I’ll ask her and see what she does.”
Seborga grinned. “Thank you so much! Could you also invite Japan, and tell him to invite his siblings?”
“If you want. I’ll also have Prussia come early with me. Japan will want to be there to help too, I’m sure.”
“Germany, you’re fantastic! My brother’s a lucky man!”
Germany cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Yes, thank you. I’ll see you the night of the seventeenth.”
“See you then! Thank you!”
“You’re welcome. Goodbye.”
“Bye!”
Seborga hung up and smiled. He had a couple more calls to make, but everything was coming together. A weight lifted off his shoulders knowing that he was putting together a little committee. Suddenly, the prospect of planning the party seemed less like a chore and more like an opportunity.
The morning of the seventeenth, Seborga strode up to Italy and Romano’s house, coming in without ringing the doorbell. “Feliciano, Lovino, I’m here!”
From the distance, he could hear the sound of feet slapping the floor as Italy bolted down the hall and out into the foyer. “Seb!” He launched forward and wrapped up Seborga in a hug. “We’re so excited to see you!”
“I’m excited to see you guys, too. Happy birthday, Feli!” Seborga returned the hug.
Romano came into the foyer, holding a mug of steaming coffee, his mouth pulled into a relaxed smile. “Hi, Seb.”
“Hey, Lovino! Happy birthday!”
“Thanks.” Lovino came forward and hugged Seborga, not staying quite as long as Italy had. “How the hell are you?”
“Good, except for I think I’m coming down with something." Seborga couldn't help being nervous. He has always been a lousy liar.
“You are?! You think you could have told us before we hugged you!” Lovino exclaimed.
Italy frowned. “What makes you say that?”
“Bit of a fever. Little tired, back of my throat is sore, that kind of thing.”
“Oh, will you miss lunch?” Feliciano asked, concerned.
“May as well be safe. Don't want Toni to get sick.” Seborga said.
Lovino nodded, though he didn't appear to be delighted that Seborga was staying behind. “May as well. You look dead on your feet, Sebastian, did you get any sleep last night?”
Seborga had been up all night cooking the day before. He had gotten about half of it done, but there was still a lot to do. Not to mention delivering it all to Spain’s house in the dead of night. “No.”
“Well, you can sleep here.” Lovino said. “You can sleep in the guest room. We put fresh sheets there.”
“I put fresh sheets there.” Feliciano corrected. “We should probably stay back with Seb. We can’t leave him alone!”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous.” Seborga said, waving a hand dismissively as he toed off his shoes. “It’s your guys’ birthday! You should at least celebrate it. I’ll take a nap, I’ll probably be feeling better by the time you guys get back.”
“Are you sure?” Italy asked.
“Absolutely. You guys go enjoy your lunch!”
Lovino frowned. “It would be pretty rude to cancel on Spain this late in the game.”
“You guys have fun, I’ll be napping.” Seborga ruffled their hair as they passed, Feliciano frowning at the action. Romano scowled, but kept his mouth shut as he passed.
“We’ll have our phones on us. Text if you need anything!” Feliciano said.
“Will do.”
Almost as if on cue, someone knocked on the door.
Spain let himself in. “Hola! Happy birthday, boys!”
“Hi, Toni!” Feliciano greeted.
“Hi,” Romano greeted as Spain bent down to kiss his fiancé’s cheek.
Spain pulled away, his brow furrowed as he pushed his hands into his jean pockets. “Is something wrong, Lovi?”
“Seb has a cold and he can’t go to lunch.”
“Aww, really?” Spain stepped forward and pulled his right hand out of his pocket, slapping it against Seb’s outreached hand. “Sorry, Seb.”
Seb returned the handshake, blinking as he registered something small and metal being pushed into his hand. As Spain pulled his hand away, Seborga put his clenched hand into his pocket, smiling. He hoped his shock didn't register too prominently on his face. “It’s okay. It happens.”
“Get plenty of sleep, drink some fluids. I hope you feel better soon!” Spain said. His back turned to Italy and Romano, he subtly winked at Seborga.
Seborga nodded. “I will. You guys have fun!”
“We will!” Italy said.
Romano pulled on his jacket. “Take care of yourself. Of course you had to get sick on our birthday, bastard.” Despite his words, Romano's words were laden with pity.
“Sorry, Lovi.” Sebastian apologized. He knew that it was just part of the surprise, but he couldn’t help but feel guilty.
“Don’t worry about it.” Romano zipped up his jacket. “Just get better. We don’t like it when you don’t feel good.”
“I’ll be fine. You guys better get out of here, or the restaurants are going to close before you even get lunch.”
“Okay. Bye, Sebby!” Italy waved, opening the door.
The three exchanged a few more goodbyes before they finally left. Seborga waited until he could hear the car leaving the driveway before he sprung up from the couch and pulled the key Spain had given him out of his pocket. He cringed. It was a good thing he hadn't made it upstairs before Spain had arrived. He'd forgotten all about the fact that Spain's door would be locked! He pulled on his leather jacket and fished his keys out of his pocket. “Okay. I have to hurry. Gotta’ cook, have to decorate, and Germany and the others will be at Spain’s in a couple hours.” He pushed open the front door and strode over to his motorcycle, pulling his helmet on. It was a short drive to Spain’s house, but regardless he couldn’t seem to get over there quickly enough. He hurriedly parked in front of the garage and unlocked the door. He then pushed through a few doors until he got to the garage and found the button to open the garage door. He ducked under the still-opening door and kicked up the kickstand to his motorcycle, pushing it into the garage. He then shut it and, pulling off his jacket, threw it onto the couch. He knew that in the kitchen fridge he would find several pasta dishes, a lasagna, salad ingredients, and a few beginnings to a cake he was making. Something light and delicate, with a coffee flavor. Enough to satiate Italy’s sweet tooth while also catering to Romano’s love of a balanced dessert. It would be difficult to navigate Spain’s kitchen, but he had plenty of time to figure out where everything was.
He had only been cooking for a couple hours when someone rang the doorbell. Seborga peeked over to the clock over the stove. Whoever it was, they were half an hour early. He rinsed his hands of flour and dried them on a towel as he hurried to the door to let whoever it was in. He opened the door. “Oh, Germany and Prussia! Thank you two so much for coming!”
Prussia was donned in a T-shirt that featured a crowd of chicks that read: ‘hanging with my peeps’ and a pair of black jeans paired with a pair of red converse. He grinned at Seborga. “We’re super excited to help. This will be the awesomest party in the world! Especially with me decorating.”
Germany was, of course, dressed far more reservedly in a pale blue button down shirt and navy blue work slacks. “We brought some beer and wine just in case. It’s in the trunk of my car, so we can get that whenever you want it in here.”
“Aww, that’s so sweet!” Seborga said. “We can actually bring it in now so it can get chilled before the guests arrive.”
The three stepped off the porch as Germany popped the trunk of his car.
“You look so formal, Germany, where’s your party outfit?” Seborga asked.
“I’m wearing it.” Germany answered, a slight smile on the corners of his lips. “My pants are blue. Not black.”
“Ooh, crazy!” Prussia joked. “I tried to get him to wear a party hat, but he refused.”
Germany opened up his trunk, revealing enough boxes of beer and wine to satisfy all the guests to the party. “Here we are.”
“Holy hell!” Seborga laughed. “How did you fit all this in your trunk?”
“Not just that.” Prussia rounded the back of the car with an impish grin and opened the back door of the car. “We have some in the back seat, too! Enough to get everyone hammered!”
“You guys are the best!” Seborga high-fived Prussia with a smile.
“You say that now.” Germany reached own and pulled out a case of beer without an issue. “We still have to take it all in.”
After they got all the drinks inside, Seborga straightened and clapped his hands once together.
Germany too straightened and flexed his hands to bring feeling back into them after bringing in so many boxes.
Prussia too stood up straight, a hand coming up to the small of his back as he grunted. “Ow.”
“Right!” Seborga took a look at the alcohol in the kitchen. “I’ll find some coolers and put the beers up. Germany and Prussia, Spain said he should have some decorations in several bags in the living room. You two go on ahead and start setting those up!”
Germany nodded, pleased to have a duty, and left.
Prussia waited until Germany was barely out of earshot. “Don’t be fooled by his cheerful disposition. He’s excited to be here helping out.”
“No, I know.” Seborga responded. “That’s just how he is.”
“I guess he’s just nervous.” Prussia said, a knowing smile on his face.
“Nervous about what? It’s just a party with people he knows. No big deal!”
For a moment, Seborga could recognize the tiniest flicker in Prussia’s eyes. A flicker of fear. A flicker that he realized he had said too much.
Prussia’s winning smile widened until it stretched awkwardly over his teeth. “Ah, you know him. Just so socially awkward. I bet he just wants things to be perfect for his boyfriend.”
Seborga mentally filed away Prussia’s reaction, but decided to leave it be. Prussia looked uncomfortable as it is. “As if you can tease Germany for wanting things to be perfect. Remember Canada’s birthday?”
“Eh, it’s whatever.” Prussia’s pale ears flushed pink, followed quickly by his cheeks and neck.
“The photos were really sweet!” Seborga teased, poking a finger into his ribs.
Prussia laughed, stepping away. “Ow! Hey!”
“Go help your brother. We’re going to be out of time before we know it.”
The doorbell rang, the two distracted by the noise.
Seborga smiled. “That has to be Japan! Go on in to help Germany.” He started to make his way toward the door.
“Sure! Little warning, France said he would show up a bit early to help out.” Prussia called to Seborga’s back.
“I’m glad!” Seborga responded as he reached forward to grab the doorknob. “We need the extra help!” He pulled open the door, confronted with the sight of Japan. “Good afternoon, Japan!”
“Hello.” Japan said with a polite smile. He bent at the waist. “Thank you for inviting me.”
Seborga too bowed. “Thank you for coming over early to help!”
“Of course.” Japan straightened. “I brought a gift for Italy and Romano, as well as a bottle of Saki.” Japan gestured toward a basket hanging on his arm.
“Aww, that’s so sweet! Here, let me get that for you!” Seborga reached forward and accepted the basket from Japan. “Come in, come in! Germany and Prussia are already here to help hang up decorations.”
“Thank you. Is there any way I can help you?”
“Nope, but thank you!” Seborga answered.
Japan stepped inside. “Then I will help Germany and Prussia with decorations.”
“Thank you!” Seborga said as Japan made his way to the living room. After Seborga had strode to the kitchen, he opened the basket and looked mournfully inside. “What am I supposed to do with all this booze?”
The rest of the day went by in a similar fashion, with Seborga baking and periodically interrupting his progress to answer the door. France first arrived early, followed by Hungary and Austria, and even Canada and America. The decorating got done sooner than Seborga had expected, and soon there was nothing more inside to be done. Seborga pulled the final layer of the cake out of the oven and glanced at the clock over the stove. Only two hours. That would be cutting it close for sure on the cake. He glanced outside into the back yard. Shit, he had forgotten about the tent!
He stepped out of the kitchen to the living room full of chatting people. He clapped his hands twice for everyone’s attention. “Are there any big, strong people here?”
“Hell yeah!” Prussia shouted, his open hand shooting up into the air.
Hungary reached over and pulled Prussia’s hand down. “Easy there, Prussia, I think Seborga was talking to me.”
“Cute, folks.” America added. “Sorry to say, but I think I have you beat.”
“Oh yeah?” Prussia challenged. He pushed the sleeve of his T-shirt up to his shoulder. “You. Me. Arm wrestling. Now.”
Seborga once again clapped his hands together for their attention. “It’s fine, you’ll all do. You three go down and get the canopy tent out of Spain’s basement.”
“I can still get it up quicker than you can.” America challenged, pulling his sleeves up his arms as he pushed past Prussia.
Prussia only took a moment to recover before Hungary too bumped into him as she bolted past America.
Seborga rolled his eyes, grinning. “Okay. France, Austria, and Canada. There are some lantern lights down in the basement. Can you take them up and string them in the branches of the backyard trees?”
“Of course. Anything for you, Seb!” France said. He was followed by Austria and Canada as they hustled down the steps.
“Anything you need me to do?” Germany asked.
Seborga snapped, turning around. “Actually, yes! I need your help decorating the birthday cake. I know you’re super good with that kind of thing.”
“I try to be.” Germany said bashfully, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “I’m not good at the small details. My hands are too big.”
“That’s okay. All help is important!” Seborga affirmed, waving Germany toward the kitchen. He paused and shouted down into the basement. “Oh, before you guys start you have to park your cars in the back so the boys don’t see them before they come into the house!”
“Got it!” Canada shouted, his quiet voice only slightly amplified by the echo of the basement. “Thank you, Seborga!”
Seborga then joined Germany in the kitchen, where he was searching the cabinets for bowls and pulling them out systematically by size.
“I know you wanted me to help, but I didn’t know what I was supposed to do so I... got bowls.” Germany said, awkwardly waving to the assortment on the counter.
Seborga smiled. He’d always liked Germany. Though the man was intimidating on the outside, there was a kind of friendly awkward charm that made him impossible to dislike.
Twenty minutes later they had somehow stacked the three layers of cake and were frosting it with a crumb coat. Though Seborga knew that Germany's help would be instrumental to getting the cake done in time, but the two were actually ahead of schedule! With how well everything was going, Seborga had a difficult time thinking of anything that could make him any happier.
“So…” Germany began.
Seborga smiled as he frosted the outside of the second layer. “So?”
“I have… a question to ask you.”
Seborga looked over, alarmed by the nervous tone Germany had.
Germany was scooping more frosting onto his spatula, apparently avoiding Seborga’s gaze.
“Yes, of course!”
“So…” Germany began frosting he cake once again. “Your brother.”
“My brother.” Seborga repeated with an encouraging smile.
Germany lowered he spatula and finally met Seborga’s gaze. “I... love Feliciano very much. I have for a very long time. And maybe it’s a bad time, because I know Lovino and Spain are already engaged, but…”
Seborga’s mouth split into a joyful grin.
“I wanted to propose this evening.” Ludwig seemed to force it out, like keeping it in any longer would be painful. “If that was okay with you. I wanted your blessing.”
“Aww, Ludwig, that’s so sweet!” Seborga crooned. “Of course you have my blessing!”
Ludwig, relieved, let out a rare full smile. “That’s a relief. I already had Lovino’s blessing, but still…”
Seborga jumped up and down, clapping his hands. He already liked Ludwig, but he occasionally found himself still surprised by how sweet and considerate he could be. “Oh, this is fantastic! When are you planning on doing it?!”
Germany shrugged, scooping more frosting onto his spatula. “I thought I could do it late this evening, after most people had left. I figured the more private the better.”
“That’s perfect.” Seborga affirmed, resting a hand on Germany’s arm. “He’ll want to tell his family afterword, you know. He wouldn't be opposed to telling other people too, but I think he would prefer for it to just be a family moment."
“I know.” Germany’s lips pulled into a sentimental close-mouthed smile. “So I was hoping you and your brothers would stay here for a while after the party.”
“We can make that happen.” Seborga gave Germany a thumbs-up before he remembered they were working on a time limit. He continued to frost the cake. “Will Prussia be there?”
Germany shook his head. “No. We agreed to, if Feli says yes, go out for drinks and celebrate together this weekend. I imagine he will go home with France of Canada this evening.”
“This is perfect!” Seborga cheered, hardly able to contain himself. “Oh, and it’ll be perfect with all the lights in the trees, and the tent, and with how nice it is outside…”
“And that path Spain has around his yard, bordered by flowers.” Germany added. “It’s supposed to be a clear night.”
Seborga continued to frost the cake, smiling so wide that his cheeks began to hurt.
Ten minutes before Spain and his brothers were supposed to arrive, Seborga took one last lap around the house to check all the details. “Food warming in the oven, check. Cake in the fridge, check.” He peeked out the kitchen window. “Lanterns, tent, tables, decorations…” He then left the kitchen and made his way to the living room. “The decorations are up…”
Indeed, they were. Streamers were strung all across the room, balloons were weighed down and floating over top of the couch's side tables and a banner hung over the furniture that wished the two brothers a happy birthday.
Seborga’s gaze settled onto the coffee table, which had a vase of lilies proudly blooming. “Oh, those are gorgeous! Who brought those?”
“We did.” Austria answered, his chest puffed out with pride. “Hungary thought it would be nice to bring the boys some flowers.” His gaze settled adoringly on his wife.
Hungary smirked at Austria. “Making them their national flower was his idea.”
Austria uncomfortably cleared his throat as his cheeks flushed. “Yes, well… yes, it was.”
Seborga laughed at Austria’s discomfort. “Well, it was very sweet.” He peered around the room, the living room full of treasured friends. Invited to the party were all of the former allied powers standing around the room, with the exception of America who was sitting and leaning his elbows on the coffee table. China, Hong Kong, Taiwan, and South Korea were all crowded around the coffee table, South Korea laughing at a joke America had just made. Russia’s sisters were attending, Ukraine standing between Hungary and Liechtenstein and Belarus standing by her brother looking like she would rather not be there. Switzerland was perched on a chair muttering something to Portugal, Liechtenstein leaning against the back of the chair. All of the Nordics squeezed onto one couch. The micronations had also come, crowded at the edge of the room. “Everything appears to be in order!”
“It was very good of you to set all this up, Seborga.” England’s words were accompanied by a sincere smile.
Seborga rubbed the back of his neck bashfully as the sentiment was repeated by the guests. “Aww, it was good of you all to come and celebrate my brothers with me. I’m not sure how Romano will react, he doesn’t exactly love surprises.” He felt a buzz in his back pocket, pulling his phone out of his pocket, his eyes widening.
“Something wrong?” Finland asked from the couch.
Seborga slid his phone back in his pocket. “Spain texted. They’ll be here any minute!”
China brushed past Seborga. “Taiwan, come help me turn out all the lights!”
Taiwan sprang up from her place by the coffee table.
“We have to hide!” Monaco stepped forward, crouching behind the couch.
There was a sudden scrambling as everyone tried to find places to hide.
“How do you hide this many people?!” Sealand cried.
“Sealand!” Seborga barked. “You and Wy are small! Hide under the coffee table!”
“There isn’t enough room to hide everyone.” Germany said urgently.
Seborga licked his lips as he tried to think. “Everyone, try and hide behind the counters in the kitchen!”
All the Asian countries moved to the kitchen, followed closely by Norway and Sweden.
Seborga looked around urgently as the lights went out in the living room, eventually settling on just standing against the wall where the door would open. He would just have to pray that they didn’t shut the door to reveal him before everyone stood and surprised them.
As Seborga pressed himself against the wall, he watched America whip his head around in search of hiding spots in the seemingly empty living room. Eventually he sprinted over to a corner and moved a lamp that was standing in the corner. He did a handstand where it once stood. “Someone help me!” America shouted. “I need someone to put the lampshade over my feet!”
Seborga could hear France snicker from somewhere in the living room. “Are you being serious?”
“I can’t feel my face anymore! You think I’m not being serious?!” America whisper-yelled.
Belarus finally stood from behind the couch and jogged over to the corner, pulling the lampshade off the lamp and settling it on America’s foot. On her face was a rare smile. “This is idiotic.”
“Hey, this is genius.” America refuted.
“Flatten your feet.” Belarus ordered. “The lampshade will not be staying straight up.”
“Oh, sorry.” America began sarcastically. “Let me just bend my foot to lie against my frickin’ leg. I forgot I’m a contortionist.”
“If you continue your whining, I can be making your feet bend in that way.” Despite her words, Belarus’ words held no bite.
Japan peeked his head up over the back of the armchair, his brow furrowed into a worried frown. “Please, we are running out of time before they get here.”
Belarus finally just lifted her hands off the lampshade and retreated back to her hiding place.
Seborga shushed the muttering room as he strained to listen. “That’s Spain’s car! Everyone be quiet!” He listened to the car’s engine shut off. Listened to the doors of the car open and shut. Listened to the three converse as they walked from the car to the porch.
“We’d better hurry.” Italy’s voice was muffled by the door.
A key was pushed into the lock and turned. “I will.” Spain's voice promised. “I wanted to get him something before I dropped you off to your place. I borrowed a pair of jeans from him and forgot to give it back to him.”
There was a slight pause as the door opened.
“Hold on.” Romano’s voice said, tinged with suspiciousness.
The door swung open further. Seborga sucked in his gut. If the door bounced off him, his brothers would immediately know something was up. He withheld a sigh of relief as the door stopped an inch from his torso.
Romano stepped in.
Seborga was able to see Romano’s arm.
Romano’s arm was bent, apparently resting his hands on his hips. “You two aren’t even close to the same size in pants."
Spain reached forward and paused for a moment, scanning the room. His gaze apparently settled on America for only a moment before he laughed nervously. “Sure we are! At any rate, it’s not about he pants.” He extended his arm forward, flicking the living room light on.
Everyone sprung out from their hiding places, all shouting surprises and happy birthdays.
Italy sprung in shock for a moment before he started laughing.
Romano jumped backwards, screaming Italian profanity for a moment before he apparently realized what was going on and recovered. A rare belly laugh erupted from him as he saw everyone. “Oh my God."
“This is amazing!” Italy laughed, his eyes darting around to see everyone.
Seborga sprung out from behind the door, clamping his hands down onto Romano’s shoulders. “Surprise!”
Romano spun around, screaming once again. His mouth once again split into a rare smile. “You asshole!” He punched his shoulder. “You weren’t sick at all!”
“No, I wasn’t.” Seborga laughed at his reaction. “I needed to stay behind to set all this up!”
“You did all this?!” Feliciano asked.
“Well, I had a little bit of help.” Seborga admitted.
Romano turned to face Spain, who was still laughing at his reactions. “You were in on this, weren’t you?”
Spain looked down at his fiancé. “Yes, of course I was.”
Italy looked around the room, toeing off his shoes to go greet all the guests. “This is incredible! Thank you all so much!”
The guests gathered around Italy, giving him well-wishes and greetings.
Romano hung back, turning to face Seborga. “Sebastian, thank you.”
“Of course!” Seborga grinned. “I have great older brothers. Not as good of a brother as I am, of course, but…”
Romano lightly punched Seborga on the shoulder with a smirk. “You’re such a brat.”
“Go talk to all the guests! They’re excited to see you!” Seborga waved Romano further into the living room.
Romano smiled to Seborga briefly before he made his way through the ocean of people.
Spain watched his fiancé mingle with the crowd, wordlessly lifting his hand for a fist bump.
Seborga watched America collapse from his handstand, knocking his fist against Spain’s in victory.
“See?!” America cried victoriously, standing among the shocked concern and carefree laughter. “I told you all they wouldn’t notice!”
The party went on swimmingly. The alcohol Germany and Prussia brought was a huge success, the party moving outside as everyone mingled. The food was enjoyed immensely, Seborga growing slowly more and more bashful as people praised him on his cooking. The real showstopper, though, was when the cake was brought out. Three layers of cake, Seborga’s own recipe. Coffee flavored, yet somehow light. This was a huge success to everyone except for Sealand, who didn’t like coffee. Seborga, expecting this, secretly slipped him some candy under the table for later. Everything went without an issue. No fights, no arguments, no drunken shenanigans (Seborga had France to thank for keeping Spain and Prussia under control). As the night got darker, half the guests began to break away and head home. The small party moved indoors, easily chatting in the living room. They swapped stories about the birthday boys, Germany divulging the classic favorite story of how the brothers learned to use grenades. To Romano’s credit, he took the slight humiliation with grace, the alcohol and pure happiness within him appearing to make him more easygoing. Finally, the evening was winding down and people were finally heading home.
Seborga watched as Germany and Canada escorted Prussia to the door, who was now so tipsy that he could hardly walk.
“You’re a great brother, you know.” Prussia slurred, Germany catching him as he stumbled.
Germany righted him, apparently used to his antics. “Yes, I know.”
“And you!” Prussia whipped his gaze to Canada. “You’re, like, the awesomest boyfriend in the world.”
Canada smiled. “Yes, I know.”
“I’m super serious!” Prussia continued. He tried to slide his shoes on, laughing as he was unable to. “You’re so nice all the time. Especially to me. Which is especially nice since I sometimes forget how to be nice.” He successfully slid on a shoe. “Ha! Got it!” He went limp, as if his bones suddenly lost structural integrity.
Germany grunted in surprise, catching him.
Prussia cackled. “I love you guys, you know that?”
“Yes, yes, we know that.” Germany grunted, apparently growing tired of Prussia.
“Prussia,” Canada said. His voice was rather similar to a kindergarten teacher speaking to a tired toddler. “How about you get your other shoe on?”
Prussia tried to stand. “Yes, of course! Anything for my Birdie!” He slid the other shoe on, smiling dopily at Canada. “The ultimate act of love.”
Canada appeared to be biting back a laugh. “Yes. Thank you, Prussia.”
“Alright,” Germany rolled his eyes. “Let’s get you to Canada’s car.”
“Woohoo!” Prussia stuck his two fists in the air as if he were at a concert. “Hell yeah! I get to go to my Birdie’s house!” As he was escorted to Canada’s car, he continued to shout in German.
Even as the door shut, Seborga could hear Prussia shouting with elation.
Spain laughed, his cheeks flushed. “He’s great.”
“He’s entertaining, at any rate.” Romano said, leaning back against the couch. “Don’t get me wrong, that was a good party. But I’m happy it’s over.”
Seborga too relaxed back in his chair. “Me too.”
Italy grinned. “That was the perfect party, Sebby. You did a great job.”
“Thanks.”
Spain leaned forward. “Seb, I love you, but you look like you’re dead.”
Seborga let out a surprised laugh. “You’re a real charmer, Toni, I can see why Lovino wanted to marry you.”
“Part of my natural charm, I guess.” Spain rested his arms on the back of the couch.
“Whatever you say, bastard.” Romano rested his head against Spain’s arm.
Seborga heard the door open, turning his head to watch Germany step into the house with a tired sigh.
“That bad?” Italy asked with a grin.
“Everything was fine until he started singing.” Germany shuffled into the living room, collapsing on the couch next to Italy. “I knew it was all over when he started singing ‘The Model’ by Kraftwerk at the top of his lungs.”
Italy laughed, Seborga and Spain joining in. Romano was apparently so tired that all he could muster was a smile.
“Do you want to go for a walk?” Germany asked Italy.
Italy smiled. “A walk sounds nice. It’s so gorgeous outside!”
Germany stood. “Good, good. Let’s go.” There was a practiced casualty to his movements. A practiced casualty that was not executed well. His movements were almost stiff, his expression awkward.
“Okay,” Italy smiled. “No need to be so stiff, sir. All the guests are gone.”
“Right.” Germany tried for a casual smile, but it looked almost as if the smile caused him pain.
Italy shook his head with a grin. “You’re going to need a week of isolation after today, aren’t you?”
Germany laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck as he went to go put his shoes on. “Guess so.”
Seborga determinedly faced forward as the two put on their jackets and, conversing, left the house. He didn’t want to give anything away.
Romano lifted his head slightly as the door shu. His brow was slightly furrowed. “Let’s see if the potato bastard can get the proposal out before he spontaneously combusts.”
Seborga laughed. “I’m sure he’ll be able to.”
Spain smiled lazily. “Remember when I proposed to you, Romano?”
“Of course.” Romano smiled. The grin was full. Unguarded. “The dinner, the fashion show, the gelato under the stars. All of it. The proposal in the gazebo.”
“Did he ever tell you what we did after I proposed, Sebastien?” Spain asked.
Romano groaned. “Stop.”
“We danced.” Spain smiled at the memory. “Your brother may not look it, but he’s a romantic.”
“Don’t know what else you would expect out of an Italian.” Seborga said.
“There wasn’t any music, you know.” Spain continued.
Romano cringed, covering his face with his hands. “Stop.” His words were muffled, but no less desperate.
“But he didn’t care. I just hummed for us and we danced.”
“You never told me that part, Lovi!” Seborga teased with an impish grin.
“Because I would rather die.” His hands still concealed his face.
The three of them conversed for a while, the passing of time causing the conversation to be stunted and awkward. awkward. The three of them were each distracted by thoughts both positive and negative. Of course, Seborga was almost certain that Italy would say ‘yes’. But as time passed longer and longer, Seborga couldn’t help but realize that if they were taking this long to return, then the outcome likely wasn’t positive. Ten minutes turned into twenty minutes, which turned into half an hour, which eventually became 45 minutes.
“What’s taking them so long?” Romano asked.
Seborga frowned. “You don’t think Feli didn’t accept the proposal, do you?”
“Of course not.” Romano shook his head. “He loves Ludwig too much to.” Regardless, he looked at his watch, his expression slightly unsettled.
Spain bounced his leg. A nervous habit of his. “Everything’s probably fine.”
Regardless, the forty five minutes turned into an hour. A few minutes after the hour passed, the door opened.
Seborga kept his eyes fixed pointedly ahead, despite the fact that both Spain and Romano watched the door swing open. He knew Italy probably accepted the proposal. But if he didn’t, he wanted to afford Germany and Italy some privacy.
Shoed feet slapped against the hardwood floor, someone bolting into the house. Italy popped into the living room, his face alight with happiness. “Guys, guys, guys!”
“What?” Spain asked, smiling. To those watching without context, the expression would be of pure curiosity. But to one who knew what the three knew, it was impossible to miss the mingling relief in the toothy grin.
Germany too walked through the door, his face alight in what could only be described as pure joy.
Seborga choked back a laugh as he noticed Germany’s hair was almost completely undone, the collar of his shirt was wrinkled, and his face was flushed. Even with his mouth stretched in a wide grin, his lips were red and very obviously swollen.
Italy bound into the room. Upon closer inspection, his face was equally flushed, his lips equally swollen. He held his hand out, displaying a gold engagement ring. “We’re engaged!”
“What?!” Seborga cried, standing and clutching Italy’s hand to look at the ring.
Italy laughed. “It’s okay, guys, Luddy told me you guys knew.”
“Of course he did.” Romano shook his head, but he was smiling. “Congratulations, Feli.”
“Thank you!” Italy rubbed his cheeks. “I’m smiling so hard my cheeks hurt!”
“What took you guys so long?” Romano asked. “We were starting to get worried!”
Germany stepped forward, still grinning. “I was so nervous, we rounded Spain’s yard several times before I actually asked him.”
“Then he asked me, I said yes, and we walked around the yard a few more times before we finally came back in to tell you!”
“Mm-hmm.” Seborga crossed his arms. “Just walking around the yard.”
Germany cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, looking everywhere but at Spain and Italy’s brothers.
“To be fair,” Italy said. “We did walk around the yard a few times to talk a bit.”
“Congratulations, you two.” Spain grinned, stepping forward to shake their hands.
“Lovi, we’re both engaged at the same time!” Feliciano cheered, springing forward and hugging his brother.
Romano stiffened at the hug, apparently being in a good enough mood not to immediately pry his brother off of him. “Yes, we are! But I’m having my wedding first.” The words held no bite.
“Now all you have to do is get engaged too, Sebastian.” Germany joked.
Seborga smiled to himself, looking down at his shoes. “I dunno’. Don’t think I’m the marrying type.”
“That’s what Romano said.” Italy reminded him. “Look at him now!”
Seborga laughed in agreement, though he internally rolled his eyes. He knew there was a certain pressure to be with someone as a romantic country. He did enjoy flirting every now and again, but the part he liked about it was how people's faces would light up at the attention. He had never been one for romance, and he doubted he ever would be. He was too elated about the new engagement, however, to pursue that conversation with his brothers. About half an hour later, Seborga was about ready to fall asleep in his chair.
“Getting a little tired, Sebby?” Spain asked.
Seborga opened his eyes, not realizing he had allowed them to close. “Hmm? I guess so.”
“Will you be okay to drive home?” Germany asked from the couch. “I can drive you, if you want.”
Seborga shook his head. “No. I’ll be fine. The wind will keep me awake. I should head out, though, before I get any more tired.”
“Bye, Seb!” Italy stood and wrapped his arms around Seborga. “Drive safely.”
“I will.”
Romano too stood. “Thank you for the party, Seb. It was wonderful.”
“Of course!” Seborga responded, smiling.
“Just promise me one thing.”
“Sure.”
Romano smirked. “Never do it again. You look exhausted.”
Seborga laughed, shaking his head. “If again, not for a long time.”
Spain stood, also hugging Seborga. “Sleep well tonight. You’ve earned it.”
“I plan on it.”
Germany also stood, stepping forward. He awkwardly raised his arms up for a hug.
Seborga smiled, sticking his hand out for a handshake. “It’s okay, Big guy. I know you’re not a hugger.”
Germany looked relieved as he shook Seborga’s hand, giving a close-mouthed smile. “Thank you. Drive safely.”
It took Seborga only ten more minutes to pull himself away from his siblings and future brothers-in-law, him rolling his motorcycle out of the garage with relief. He pulled on his helmet, starting up his motorcycle. He was glad it was a short drive to his house. While he normally would have parked it in his garage, the sky was completely clear. He settled to just park it in his driveway. He was exhausted. Seborga slipped out of his jacket, hanging it on a peg on the door. He walked into his hallway, past the living room and out to his white wooden deck. The moon was full, the beams reflecting on the waves as they lapped onto his white-sand beach. He finally let out a long, slow, exhausted sigh. “You killed it, Sebby.” He closed his eyes, relishing the lack of voices. The lack of phone calls, the sounds of crepe streamers, the smell of the ocean rather than the smell of baking cake. The sounds of the water moving against itself, mixing and mingling with grains of sand relaxed him and slowed his heartbeat. For a moment, he stood and relished the sound of being completely alone.
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seekingseven · 4 years
Text
The Most Sincere Kind of Lie (Ch4)
Chapter 4 of my Linked Universe fanfic! Also available to read here on AO3
┍━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━┑
Legend woke up to the sound of humming and the disturbing sensation that the fabric of reality was being torn from underneath him. He sputtered and sat upright in the bed, promptly smacking his forehead into Sky's chin.
"Oh dear, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to wake you up," Sky said with a half-lidded smile. "It's just that the lady wanted to wash this bed sheet and I offered to help her out. Somehow Hyrule got cream all over it and she said it'll make the linen go bad." The bleary, confused look on Legend's face was met by a gentle chuckle from the other hero. "You can sleep on one of the other beds, though, if you'd like. We’re not going to be leaving for another half an hour or so.”  
It smelled like morning and clouds and screaming, weeping demons. Legend felt his muscles spasm and his eyes roll to the back of his head.
"Woah! Legend, Legend! It's alright. It's alright, look, it's just me. Look, hey! Look here. Look! Listen to me, Legend! Legend! It's me, it's Sky. You know me. It’s alright. It’s okay. Calm down, you’re safe. It’s just me."
The cool metal of the Lens of Truth and the Magic Mirror pressed up against the bones on the underside of Legend's fingers. The skin of his knuckles stretched tight over his bones, and the artifacts’ handles shook under his grip. Everything was blurry. Everything was red. Everything smelled like burning clouds and tears and crippling guilt.
That voice, though...
He knew that voice...
His femur crunched against the bone of his hip socket as his chest tipped forward. He was falling…
Falling..
Falling...
"Hey, I've got you,” Sky cooed. “It's alright. Whatever happened was just a dream, okay? You're okay. It's okay." Unfamiliar fingers ran through his hair. Legend squinted at the blurry form in front of him and, upon recognition, nearly crumpled in relief.
Sky. Oh, it was just Sky. Oh, thank Hylia. It was just Sky. Just the happy, lazy, vaguely irresponsible Sky, who had blue eyes, not orange ones, who had blond hair, not red. Legend’s temple rested against Sky's collarbone for just a moment longer before he pulled himself out of the embrace. His heart wasn't pounding anymore. Legend blinked quickly and got to his feet, trying to walk off the pins-and-needles in his legs, deaf to the words falling out of Sky’s mouth. So many words were said, words of the comforting, meaningless, cliche sort, words he didn't really hear. There was mention of breakfast and travel and laundry and red and green and a blue sword and a broken-hearted hero with a soul so wracked with grief it found no relief outside of self-flagellation. And then the world was black and grey and Legend was left with the sinking, sinking hopelessness that came with knowing you had no control. His breath became short. He blinked quickly. The world came back. Sky kept talking, a confused, sluggish smile creeping back on his face as he mistook the Legend's blank stare for attentiveness. Words, words, more words, and Legend found himself breaking the brief lull in their one-sided conversation.
"Hey, I can take those from you," the veteran heard himself say.
"The bedsheet?" Sky wondered aloud as Legend took the bundled linens out of his hand, "Oh! That's quite nice of you. Are you sure? You don't look too good."
"Mmmm, don't worry about it." The prickly, uncomfortable conviction that he should say more tugged at the hairs at the back of his neck. Sky, clearly baffled but not one to argue about having mundane household chores lifted off his back, shrugged and smiled. The veteran found himself walking downstairs and out to the backyard, where a small tin tub and block of soap stood waiting.
He didn't realize he'd taken the lens and mirror along with him until he dumped the sheet into the tub and heard the tell-tale clank of metal on wood. Oh no. Oh no. Every half-decent mage knew that magic and water rarely mixed: the artifacts’ enchantments were liable to dissolve if left in there for too long. Blood screamed in the small matrix of veins behind his ears, and his hands shot forward into the tub. He pulled both artifacts out of the water before his heart had taken another full beat and neurotically dried them on his tunic. A hot glob of air stuck itself in his throat. Legend coughed dryly. Praise Hylia, both artifacts looked fine.
A demonic, curious part of him hummed with relief.
"Mr. Legend!" a feminine voice cried out behind him, "please don't worry yourself about the linens! Sir, please. I can't have a guest do housework in good conscience." The Wise Man’s daughter crept up next to him and fiddled awkwardly with the corner of her apron. Her face was set in a tight, uncomfortable grimace.
"Ma'am," Legend began with a smile, "please believe me when I say these chores are more of a pleasure to do than anything else. I've been traveling for a long time. It's nice to something normal like this every now and then." His eyes lingered on the white, frothy suds drifting lazily on the top of the water. He turned to face the woman. "However, would you mind terribly if I did ask you a favor?"
"Oh, of course not!"
"Sky and Wind. You know them?"
The woman nodded slowly, a thoughtful look on her face. "Wind is the little one with the blue shirt, and Sky is the, uh..."
"The sleepy, lazy one, yeah." Legend smiled as the woman giggled into her hands. His focus drifted to the blue mountains in the distance. "May you please, if possible, give them something sweet to eat? A pastry, perhaps, or maybe something cold for the journey? I understand if it's not possible, I really do. But, well, don't let them know I told you this, but they've...been through a lot lately. Maybe this would cheer them up a little bit."
The woman's face brightened at the idea. She started to say something, but second-guessed herself and quickly hurried off towards the house. Legend's heart was warmed by her eagerness. It was a good thing to know that people didn't necessarily need the blood of the hero to be altruistic and compassionate. He turned his attention away from the woman and back to the laundry in front of him. The water swirled and burbled happily as Legend gently cleaned the bedsheets. There was something soothing in the repetitive, mindless movements. Scrub, press, check for stains. Repeat. Scrub, press, check for stains. Repeat. Repeat. Watch the cream stains fade and surrender, watch the cloth darken with water. Scrub, press check for stains. The mountains looked so pretty from where he was sitting. Repe--
"Legend!"
The veteran turned around, not at the sound of his name, but at the loud, uneven footsteps he would recognize anywhere.
"....morning," Legend said, suspiciously eyeing the bottle Hyrule carried in his hands. Brownish, clumpy water sloshed around within, and the murky silhouette of what looked like a dead fish floated inside.
"Good morning," Hyrule cheerfully responded. "I got you breakfast!"
"Where is it?" Legend questioned, trying to distract himself from his growing dread.
"Right here!"
Of course.
The bottle.
Legend opened his mouth slowly, carefully picking his next words. "What is it?"
"Fesikh," Hyrule answered. "You've never seen it?"
"Can't say I have."
"It's something like, uh, pickled fish. It's really good, a delicacy, even! The Wise Man’s daughter and I made it just for you!" The excited grin on Hyrule's face started to slip when he saw how Legend shirked away from the bottle.
"Thanks, but I don't think I'll be able to eat that. I haven't -- uh -- I'm not really hungry. Maybe something lighter? Do you guys have any bread and cheese?" The skin of Legend's hands had started to wrinkle and bloat in the soapy water.
"Oh, uh, I think Wild made omelettes. He's in front of the house with the other guys -- Time went out to ask the townspeople if they needed help with anything and we're just waiting for him to come back before we head out."
"Sounds good. I'll be there in a few minutes."
Legend turned back to the soaked bed sheet, which looked mostly clean at this point. The sound of Hyrule's footsteps faded behind him as the veteran hung the sheet up on the laundry wire. He'd done a good job cleaning it; not even a memory of the whipped cream could be found. Legend knelt down in front of the tub and washed his face and neck with the leftover water, scooping the less-sudsy bits of water into his hands and combed it through his hair. It trickled down his neck and along the ridge of his spine, leaving wet spots behind on the back of his tunic. Oh, that felt so much better. He stood up and strung the lens and mirror to his belt. Now that the bedsheet was clean, he might as well go and get breakfast.
The smell of cooked eggs and steamed vegetables was almost too much for Legend's empty stomach to bear. He found himself sprinting around the house and over to Wild and barely refrained from tearing the proffered plate from the latter's hands. There was no doubt in anyone's minds that Legend would have eaten the whole thing with his hands if Four hadn't cautiously extended a set of utensils to him. A wet breeze skittered above the grass. Legend admired the small, careful clusters of horsetail grass that skirted the nearby river as he stuffed his face with breakfast. The other heros chatted quietly amongst themselves, drifting in and out of the house to collect and assemble their things. Warriors dropped off Legend's stuff on the step behind him, muttering something about only doing it because the veteran looked a little bit preoccupied.
A witty response was already building itself on the tip of his tongue but was cut off by the low, authoritative rumble of Time's voice. The Old Man had returned, and the tight look on his face betrayed the fact that he didn't come with good news.
"Alright, boys. From what I could gather, everyone in Saria Town is relatively happy and healthy. However, the River Man said something about a certain Darunia Town seeing a higher frequency of monster attacks than usual. From his description, they seem to be of the infected sort, and some of them have made their way to the city bounds."
Hyrule's eyes went wide at the news. Everyone turned to look at him, this was his Hyrule, after all, and he was the only one who could properly gauge how bad this situation was. And, if the ghostly pallor on his face meant anything, things weren't good.
"We'd better get going quickly, then," Hyrule began. "Darunia Town is in East Hyrule -- we'll have to cross the sea to get there and the closest dock is at least half a day's walk from here."
"Does the town have a militia to fend off the attackers until then?" Four wondered aloud as the group of heros began to pack up.
"Not exactly a militia, more like one knight. He's a very talented knight, of course, but I don't think he can protect the town by himself. The thing that worries me most is that Darunia has more children than any other town in West or East Hyrule."
"They need all the help they can get, then." Twilight asserted. The entire group nodded in agreement. Legend picked himself up off the step and tried not to heave -- this was exactly what happened when one ate too much too quickly -- slinging his bag over his shoulder as he hopped off the porch.
Just as they were all about to leave, the front door swung open and the Wise Man hobbled out.
"Gentlemen! A moment, please. I'm so sorry to disturb you all," the Wise Man apologized as he made slow, unsteady steps down the stairs. "I just need to speak to Mr. Legend about something. Is he still here?"
Legend, who was straggling behind the rest of the group, stuck his hand in the air. After a few seconds of deliberation, the group moved on without him, leaving the veteran with the warning to join them as quickly as the conversation was over. Slowly but surely, the Wise Man made his way over to where Legend stood. A yellow scroll, flaking at the edges, was bundled in his withered hand.
"I wrote the fusion spell down on this scroll, in case you wanted to attempt it once again," the Wise Man explained.
Legend took the scroll in his hand and casually unfurled the edges. He was half-inclined to give it back and explain that he couldn't read (he could, of course, just not anything written in Hyrule's Hylian) but the words died immediately in his throat.
Every word was written perfectly in his Hylian.
"It is a very ancient spell," the Wise Man continued, "so if you think you might have trouble reading it, I've got a dictionary right here that translates Modern Hylian to the Ancient variant."
"It's alright, sir. I can read this just fine."
"Of course, I should have expected no less from a young mage as talented and well-versed in magic as yourself."
Legend's throat burned. His stomach clenched. His fingers shook with adrenaline and his obsessive curiosity rejoiced with him.
"Thank you," Legend heard himself say, "but I don't think I'll have a chance to use it."
He cringed at his own blatant lie.
━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━
The beach's pink stand crunched loudly underneath the multitude of leather boots. Hyrule stood alone on a tiny dock -- not even a dock, really, more of a pathetic outcrop of rotted wood -- and stared at the crystal blue waters ahead.
"Is something wrong?" Sky questioned.
"Yes." Hyrule confessed. "I mean, uh, kind of. I realized just now that my raft probably won't be big enough for all of us." The thin, wiry brunet stepped aside from the doc to reveal a Hyrule-sized wooden raft bobbing in the water. "And the sea isn't safe to swim in...unless you're a River Zora with a, uh, magical force field or something, you won't be able to make it across."
For some reason, this earned a chuckle from Time.
"I mean, we could just make another raft," Wind suggested.
"I've got a few extra bundles of wood with me, as well as some rope. It’s pretty flimsy, though, so if anyone has got binding materials that are a little tougher it might be a good idea to use those instead," Wild said.
"Perhaps we should buy some rope," Warriors mused. The captain turned to Hyrule. "Do you know if there's any place nearby where we can find some?"
"They might sell some sort of fishing rope over in Mido Town," Hyrule said, pointing to the distant shadow in the vague shape of a town. "We can also get lunch from there, since Wild would be using most of his firewood to make the raft."
"Mido Town?" Time mumbled to Legend. "What an odd name."
"I dunno, 'The Water Town of Saria' was also pretty weird."
"I suppose you're right," Time conceded with a wistful smile.
Wild, with Twilight's help, had already laid out a rough raft scaffolding. Four suggested that they just head into the nearby woods to cut down a few trees and expedite the process, but Wind pointed out that the forest was too unfriendly for exploits of the kind.
"Ah, you remembered what I told you about the forest?" Hyrule sheepishly asked Wind.
"Of course. I listen to you when you talk, Hyrule."
This only made the traveler smile wider, but the sailor had already gotten himself knee-deep into a squabble with Warriors.
"Please, Wind, I think I can handle something as simple as overseeing the construction of a raft," Warriors asserted, chin pointed loftily over his shoulder.
"I'm an islander and a sailor!" Wind protested. "I know a thing or two about rafts. I can handle being in charge for three seconds, you know!"
Legend watched the entire exchange with a bitter taste in his throat.
“Wind, just go help Four untie that bundle over there,” Warriors sighed, waving away the indignant sailor glaring up at him. The captain turned his eyes to the rest of the group. “We’ll need two people to go into town to get rope and lunch. Wind, Sky, that will be you guys.”
Legend grinned. This was the perfect opening.  
“Hey, Wars, d’ya think I could swap out with Wind?” the veteran questioned off-handedly.
“What, scared of a little hard work? Wait, no, let me guess, you’re scared of rafts? Is that right?” Warriors teased, obviously a little more than irked at the constant questioning of his leadership.
The veteran chuffed at Warriors’ comment and shrugged, blinking slowly and lazily. “Nah, not quite. I haven’t been feeling too good lately, Sky can testify to that,” he said, jerking a thumb towards the smiling Skyloftian, “and I think a little walk would help clear my head. You know? And also, I think the sailor’ll do a much better job of overseeing this than you think. Don’t forget that this guy literally stuck the Master Sword in Ganondorf’s forehead.”
The Links were silent.
Legend smirked so hard that his cheeks hurt.
Wind looked like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to cry or crush Legend into a massive hug.
“So, what’ll it be, pretty boy?” Legend quipped.
Warriors rolled his eyes, but there was a resigned scarlet flush on the tip of his ears. Legend was sure it wasn’t from the heat.
“Okay, sure, whatever. Wind can supervise. I’ll supervise his supervising. Is that better?”
Everyone nodded in casual agreement, and Wind let out a wild whoop . His eyes met Legend’s for a brief moment, sparkling with gratitude.
For some reason, even this victory wasn’t comforting. It was too temporary of a fix. Legend broke eye contact and looked away.
“Uh, everyone? I-In regards to lunch, do you guys want to know what they sell in Mido Town? I spent a lot of time there during my journey -- they’ve got really good food. If you guys want to, uh, want to choose, I can tell Sky what they have, and he can write a list. Then you guys can choose what you like.”
Everyone was grateful for the diversion Hyrule supplied and crowded around the traveler without a second thought. It was only a matter of minutes before each hero had decided what they wanted, and more than one Link was watering at the mouth at the prospect of lunch.
“So,” Sky began, reading the finalized list out loud, “Time, Wars, and Wild want meat rice, Twi and I want salad, Wind and Four want shrimp, Legend wants, uh….bread?”
“Hey, I‘m not a picky person. Carbs are good for long term energy storage, anyway.” Legend explained. Four hummed in quiet agreement. Sky shrugged and continued on.
“And finally, Hyrule wants...oh dear, I can’t read my handwriting. Hyrule wants… H-A-L-V-A?” Sky said, the questioning inflection thick in his voice.
“Halva!” Hyrule replied cheerfully. “It’s like a really sweet paste. Don’t worry, there’s only one food vendor in the whole town, and he sells all of this stuff. You won’t be able to forget anything even if you tried.”
Sky and Legend looked at each other and shrugged, waving goodbye to the group as they veered off the path and made their way to Mido Town. The thwack of wood-on-wood and the high-pitched shout of Wind’s instructions faded as the two heroes walked on. The sun beat down relentlessly, glinting off the glassy sand and burning into the lacy hair on their heads.
Mido Town was even hotter and quieter than the path leading to it. A sun-baked wind blew through the shells of abandoned buildings, pushing around the crumbled remains of brick and mortar. Pink sand hovered in gritty clouds. It fluffed and plumed up to their waists every time the two heroes took a step. The faint imprints of their footsteps were swept away by a floor-length wind.
The villagers eyed them quietly. No one smiled. No one waved. Blinds closed. Doors shut. If it weren’t for the suspicious, life-weary eyes peering at them through darkened windows, Legend and Sky would have assumed the place to be abandoned.
Was this the kind of treatment Hyrule received during his journeys?  
“Are you alright?” Sky queried, only half-looking for the vendor Hyrule had mentioned.
“Mmmm. It’s a great thing to see that this is the world I left behind for Hyrule. Nice to see that this is the fruit of my labors.” Legend’s voice was deadpan and flat despite the obvious ire in his words.  
Sky said nothing. Grief flickered across his face.  
“This is the world I left behind for all of you,” Sky mumbled to himself. His voice was barely audible over the humming of sifting sand.
“Ugh, Sky, you aren’t to blame for any of this,” Legend said. “And anyway, there isn’t a point in looking for someone to blame. It’s, it’s not going to fix anything. Beating yourself up for something you can’t control isn’t...uh...it isn’t a very smart thing to do.” His voice and thoughts and confidence began to trail off, but Legend forced himself to continue. “Let me just say that you’re so much stronger than you think you are. I, uh, I think Hylia made a wise choice.”
Legend turned to his companion and rested a hand on Sky’s shoulder. He had no more words left to say, nothing left inside his brain but the overwhelming conviction that he should be doing more. Should he confess? Should he tell Sky that he knew -- that he knew so much more than he should? That he knew everything Sky was trying to hide?
His soul fragmented under the weight of his guilt.
Sky gently curled his fingers around Legend’s wrist. His thumb rested on a vein on the underside of the veteran’s arm, and his breathing slowed to keep time with the blood’s calm thrum. A tear dribbled off Sky’s face and landed in the hot dust below, darkening and clumping the fine grains together. Eyes, dark and dull and unbelieving and flashing with ghostly wisps of orange, glittered with tears. Legend squeezed Sky’s shoulder and pulled away, lost for words and lost in thought.
┕━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━┙
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allthelovelywriting · 4 years
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This was part of @rdrsecretcupid2020's Valentine Day event. I had the pleasure of writing a Valentine's Day gift for @eaglepatronus​. 
Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith 
Rating: General Audiences
Words: 2603
Summary: Arthur has always been loyal to Dutch, the alpha who was kind enough to take an omega like him in. That loyalty has never faltered, until a quiet morning's conversation with Charles, his alpha.
[ cross-posted to ao3 ]
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The sun rose carefully over the horizon. The warm beams kissed the trees of the forest, morning finally come, but Arthur had been awake for hours. He can’t remember the last time he slept, let alone rested.  
The small clearing he finds himself in isn’t much, just a reliable hunting spot. But to Arthur, it was something more. It was a place where there weren’t overwhelming scents of alphas and betas. Here, he could just be, without having to worry about any of that.  
With a good amount of game strapped to his horse, perhaps far more than he needed, Arthur knew he should be getting back to camp. Someone always needed something—Dutch always needed something—and the sooner he got going, the sooner he could be out again, on another job.  
And yet, he couldn’t make himself move.  
Why?  
Well, Arthur shifted against the log he sat in front, he knew why. Was it selfish, to just want a bit more time to himself? He thought it over as his pen moved along his journal pages. Switching from an entry about the latest job he’d done for Dutch, to an unfinished depiction of the clearing in front of him. Yeah, it probably was.  
Guilt settles in his chest, a weighted, heavy feeling. He knows he has to get up soon, there really isn’t any other choice, and he hates that he’s even hesitating. Everyone at camp needs him to keep working, and here he is, wasting time. Even if Dutch is forever chasing that “one last heist”, he needs Arthur to be by his side. And yet, here he sits, miles away.  
The uneasiness these thoughts have brought forward is calmed somewhat when a breeze blows through the area. A scent—familiar and full—is brought to him.  
It’s a mixture of the bold smell of the forest trees they’d go hunting in; the fresh smell of grass in the camps they rested in; the smell of lemon bar soap, ever so slightly; but most of all, it's the heady smell of an alpha. His alpha. Charles.  
He rides his horse into the clearing in the same calm, self-assured manner he does most things. That feeling is contagious, and Arthur lets himself rest a bit more, breathe a bit easier.  
“Arthur,” Charles nods to him. He gets off his horse and walks over. Doesn’t make Arthur come to him; treats him like an equal, and goes to his mate himself. Even that, such a simple gesture, is one he’s starved of and makes his heart lift.  
“Charles,” he greets back, and he can’t stop the smile that appears on his lips. Like a schoolboy with a crush, and yet, when Charles sits next to him, close enough so their shoulders brush, arms against one another, but choosing his left side so Arthur can continue to draw if he wants, he can’t find it in himself to stop the grin.  
Arthur puts his journal away; gives his alpha his full attention. Charles smiles, easily, right back at him: “Been a while since I’ve seen you in camp.”  
Arthur nods. He tried to come back to camp more often, not wanting to worry his alpha, but at the same time, Dutch always had something else for him to do. The moments he got to himself were few and far between, and the moments between him and his mater were fewer and further. It seemed they only got this: the times when Charles would come looking for him, on Dutch's request.  
“Been huntin’,” he says, in lieu of an apology. He fails to mention the people he’s gone after recently, beating them for their debt money. Or the stagecoach robbery that ended worse off than he’d have liked, with a bad brawl with two alphas.  
Charles knows all this, of course. Even if he weren’t Arthur’s alpha, the scent of an omega that had been in a bad scrap is unmistakable. And he’s covered in two other alpha’s scents, overlaying that of his bond. Charles must smell it, be aching to scent him again and reclaim his body, but he holds off. He knows that Arthur tries to please everyone in his life, and fears the ire that comes from lack of doing so. He needs to take things at his own pace, so Charles lets him. Doesn’t push when Arthur gives no further explanation.  
“Caught a lot,” he says, nodding to Arthur’s horse. The whitetail on the back, the few rabbits on this side, and what looks some kind of bird on the other side isn’t bad at all.  
Arthur perks up at the praise, “I’ve got more in my satchel, too.”  
“So you’ve been eating then?” Charles questions, his tone light, even though he knows the answer. He reaches for his own bag, passing over a piece of jerky.  
“Been busy, s’all.” Arthur eats the food, gladly. It’s almost serene, sitting in the rising sun’s light, Charles by his side.  
They sit in silence for a little, enough for the sky to bleed more orange than blue. Charles turns to Arthur, and he didn’t even have to ask before Arthur is barring his neck, showing his bond mark, and silently asking for him to scent him. He wastes no time in making Arthur smell like his once more, kisses and a few bites placed on his neck for good measure.  
It calms the omega, making him feel better than he had since... Well, since he had left camp, and Charles, about a week ago. It’s almost enough to make doze off, but—  
“Have you been sleeping?”  
Arthur bites back a sigh. He knew his mate would ask this, because it’s so obvious he hasn’t. This morning was the first that he’d not been constantly moving since he left camp.  
“Been busy,” he says again, voice sounding smaller than he meant it to. “Dutch needed me.”
That causes Charles to pull away, and makes Arthur wish he hadn’t said anything.  
“Arthur,” Charles says, concerned, but Arthur can’t help but feel like he’s about to get scolded. It’s a topic they’ve never really breached. Few arguments rose between them, but this was surely to be a point of contention.
“Charles,” he replies in kind. The comfortable silence is gone, and now he really wishes he hadn’t said anything. As much as it pains him to talk back to his alpha, his lover, his best friend, he feels he has to. Has to justify the countless hours spent running from county to county, risking himself. “I’ve got to be loyal to him.”
The past months haven’t been kind. Hell, it’s been rough since Blackwater, maybe even before, but these past few months especially have been rough for the gang. Now isn't the time to be slacking, or selfishly thinking about one's self. If a few bumps and bruises, scrapes and cuts, are what it takes to keep everyone alive, then that's what he'll do. It's the least he can do, for Dutch.
“After everything that’s happened, we got to stay together,” Arthur finds himself saying. “Just trust in him.”  
Dutch’s words feel odd in his mouth, and he doesn’t like being a parrot, but there’s little else he can do. Justifying Dutch’s actions to himself has become increasingly hard, and in front of his mate, nearly impossible. Still, he feels like he has to try. It's the least he can do.
“Loyalty can’t be one-sided.” Charles allows his hand to meet Arthur’s, fingers intertwining to ground both of them. The touch is one of the few they're allowed in camp; it's quick and doesn't take time away from the seemingly countless chores. So it's familiar; welcome. Still, even Charles can't shield him from the harsh reality of his past.
There had been a time when Dutch would have told him to jump, and he'd ask how high; told him to steal, and he’d ask how much; told to murder, and he would only have asked how many. The omega muscle that was eager to please; to show his worth. To the gang, but more so to the alpha that risked so much to take him in.
Dutch had bet the safety of the gang, and even his respect as an alpha, to have the first member of his gang, besides the women, be an omega. And Arthur couldn't ever let him down. He'd given him a place to live, food, advice, a family, so what if maybe he had to fight to keep his trust? Sure, maybe he wasn't as accommodating as Charles, didn't meet him halfway for everything, and sometimes he questioned Arthur's loyalty, but that just means that Arthur wasn't showing his loyalty enough, wasn't it?
It wasn't with Charles. It was always fifty-fifty. A split; a compromise. The give and take of equals, even if he was an omega. Is that why their loyalty feels different? Unbreakable? With Dutch, it seems he has to fight to keep his trust. Never with Charles; he gave willingly.  
“You can’t be the only one making sacrifices,” Charles continues. Arthur looks away. Wishes he still had his journal out, something to distract him.  
“He took us in,” he urges. With Charles, it was different; an alpha’s chances are always better than an omega’s. Especially if that omega is a scrappy orphan, son of a known, hated alpha. If Dutch and Hosea hadn’t taken him, he’d be dead now, simple as that.
“I know why you’re loyal, Arthur,” Charles soothes, too understanding for his own good. The solid timber of his voice is just as calming as his scent, and has the omega, unwillingly, turning back to him. “But that doesn’t have to be all there is.”
His words take a moment to settle in Arthur’s mind, but when they do, they have the effect of cold water rushing over him. He whips his eyes to Charles’, and tries to hide the sinking feeling of dread in his heart, at least enough to keep his voice steady. “What? You want to leave the gang?”  
It doesn’t work.  
But he doesn’t really care. Doesn’t care if he sounds like a desperate little omega, because that’s his alpha talking about leaving him. The bond mark on his neck burns, and he wonders if it was just temporary, fleeting, a placeholder. 
“Not alone, no.” A warm hand comes to rest on the mark, thumb running over it in smooth circles. The tension that had built up quickly fades just as fast and is all but disappeared with a kiss.  
“The gang’s family,” he insists. “Can’t just leave them behind.”  
A future with Charles is something he’s barely dared to hope for, but the thought of it coming at the price of leaving John, Hosea, even little Jack? It sets an uneasy feeling in him.  
Charles nods. This isn’t something he’s going to convince Arthur of today, so he steps back. Gives Arthur the chance to go about it at his own pace, set his own boundaries. It means more than he’ll ever know.  
The silence that overtakes them is calm once more, met with the sun higher in the sky than either of them would have liked. The sure, steady breathing of his mate is almost enough to let him doze off.
But he can't. Their conversation weighs over him. And though the silence is nice, he can’t help but try and justify;
“Someone has to do it.”  
“It doesn’t have to be you,” is Charles’ easy reply. “At least not alone.”  
He says it simply, like it’s obvious. Offers his help as if he wasn’t the first person to do so. That stirs emotions Arthur isn’t sure he likes, something that far too akin to butterflies, and much prefers to lean against the strong shoulder next to him. Maybe if he weren’t so tired, hadn’t been able to rest for so long, he would have cared more, but he doesn’t.  
“It’s always been this way.” Arthur says it with a sigh, something even he wasn’t expecting. He’d always been resigned to his role, even happy to do it the first few years after Dutch let him go out on his own.  
“It doesn’t have to be.”
Arthur huffs at that, something like a laugh. How is it so easy for him to be so sincere, so caring? Like... like he truly does believe he’s worth it.  
“I’m not a good man,” he states, quietly. It’s a fact. While none in the gang are exactly saints, he’s far worse, especially compared to the man next to him. The alpha that’s always been patient with him, met all his walls with compassion, never pushed too far, always respected his boundaries. His alpha.
Charles seems to consider this for a bit. It’s no secret that he doesn’t agree and that he’s tried in vain to convince Arthur otherwise. It's one of the few things they argue about, and neither of them wants that now. Charles has talked at length about how good he thinks Arthur is, and Arthur has denied it in turn.
He doesn’t start again, avoiding the argument and instead saying, “That doesn’t mean you’re not deserving.”  
Deserving? Of what?  
Charles wraps his arm around Arthur, holding him close.
Of this, he answers silently.  
He hates how safe it makes him feel. How vulnerable he felt before, in retrospect. Hates the fact that tears had threatened to spill over, at such a simple gesture. He's so starved for this intimate kind of attention, and he never wants it to stop, and he hates that too. He hates the feeling that rises in his chest most of all: something so close to love it scares him.
“He needs me,” is Arthur’s final attempt at rebuttal. With his eyes closed, voice heavy with sleep as he rest against his mate, the argument must sound so weak, so hollow.  But he has to try, because he doesn't like being this tired, even though he really doesn't have a choice.
Still, Charles refutes it: “I need you.” His arm stays in place around Arthur’s shoulders as the other comes to rest on his hand. Arthur watches as his calloused fingers intertwine, solidifying the moment.  
“Healthy.” A quick poke to his too thin stomach makes him smile. He pauses before continuing, a breeze sweeps through the trees.  
“Safe.” His voice is as steady as ever, and it holds some resolve. Neither of them knows what will come, but right now is all that matters. Being together.  
“Alive.” There’s a hint of desperation in Charles’ voice, and it’s enough to have Arthur sitting up, despite how his weary body protests, and capturing his lips in a long-overdue kiss. Mouths pressing together, perhaps too harshly for what is supposed to be a caring gesture, but it’s what Arthur needs to ground him.  To calm his the whirlwind of emotions he'll blame on tiredness and his long time away from his alpha.
“I don’t know what to do," he finally whispers when they break apart, in between panting breaths.  
“Stay,” Charles says. Asks. Not commanding, not forcing. Allowing Arthur to make his own decision. Allow him to breathe, clear his head. He gives Arthur a choice; a chance at stability, a chance to inhale the Alpha’s scent for just a moment longer.  
So he does.  
There was never really a choice.  
Arthur’s head comes to rest against Charles’ shoulder. Inhales deeply, taking in the scent of the alpha, much more calm than his own; grounding. Neither of them says anything. The silence stretches on, and Arthur, finally, rests.
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thejamesoldier · 5 years
Text
A Single Frayed Rope
AO3 Link
Chapter 2 
A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the long gag between updates! Should have some marvel stuff updated next!
Chapter 3 - Horseshoe Overlook I
Horseshoe Overlook ~ May 1899
The tree Kieran and you are tied to feels like a cheese grater against your back.
Every time you flinch or breathe too heavily the bark chafes against you and its agony. You haven't sat or laid down since the mountain cabins and only a lady who you have learned is called Mary-Beth comes to feed Keiran and you small rips of stale bread or sips of water regularly. She does it quickly and when the least amount of people are watching, but you're grateful for it. It's the first display of genuine kindness you've been shown since...traveling. Time traveling.
Yeah you still haven't come to terms with that.
Most of the camp has come by to take stock of the two of you, some to antagonize and demean while others offer small tokens of food or coffee if you both are looking particularly pitiful that day. Some of the gang have beaten Kieran and to your horror beat you too, some have dropped food just out of your reach, tossed their still lit cigarette buds at your faces, talked to you like you were the worst scum of the earth. You had never been in a situation where nobody...cared, nobody cared what was done to you and everybody relished in your discomfort and pain. These people were cruel, the kind of cruel you read about in history books and news headlines and watched in movies. The kind of cruel you believed you'd never have to experience like your ancestors did.  
"Mercy! Please!" Kieran moans to a passerby, his voice a racket in the quiet foggy morning and effectively wrenching you from your thoughts.
You try to tamper down the brittleness threatening to shatter your chest and allow your senses to distract you from your fear. The abuse has become so regular you eventually reached a point where you began trying to anticipate their cruelty, desperately trying to find a pattern to it. And in doing so you unintentionally became an expert on these people. At first you started discreetly observing how they treat each other, how each person does their chores, how they act when eating together or singing together. Then you learned each of their names and cataloged their habits, committing every little interaction and detail to memory. You have to know the enemy to defeat them, or in your case simply survive them. Apart from your rapt daily assessment of your captors, there's not much else for you to do other than suffer. Though you choose to do it silently unlike Kieran for you fear if you open your mouth god knows what will come out of it. Plus the second you allow yourself to truly indulge in your fears, is the moment you lose your ability to be present in any given situation and survive it.
The passerby Kieran is wailing to is a big heavy set man who you've guessed is the camp cook, or something like that. Pearson is what everyone calls him. He is always one of the first to wake, preparing a communal coffee pot which he sets by a fire pit that burns a couple paces in front of Kieran and your tree, and then sets to work on various chores like chopping up fresh game or tanning leather, before starting on a stew of some sort for dinner. The smells of food, actual hearty food, has been the worst torture thus far. You've shit and wet yourself more than you'd care to keep track of and it makes you wish for death more than wading through miles of hip deep snow did. You're constantly terrified your body will shut down without your consent too, rendering you unconscious and unprotected. You hadn't slept a whole week after you were first tied to the tree, and you've barely done so since. It's been about three weeks now.  
Pearson doesn't even look your way, much to Kieran's disappointment, and continues on with his routine deaf and blind like everyone else is to your pain. You don't know why Kieran's trying so hard. I mean yeah you want mercy too but from the welcome you've been given, you seriously doubt begging for scraps of kindness like Kieran is will give you much favor when they do eventually decide what to do with you. You want to think it couldn't hurt to try, but with these kind of people you figure compassion is a tall order to expect of them, let alone ask of them.
"When is this gonna end!" Kieran cries to no one in particular as he sags against the tree and hangs his head. His defeat you feel in the core of your being.
"Speak! Don't cry, boy." Someone barks suddenly, making you both jump at being addressed directly as it usually foreshadows bruises and split lips.
A figure appears out of the heavy morning fog like a menacing monster from a story book. Reality soothes your strained imagination when you recognize the man as Arthur as he bends down over the fire to pour himself a cup of coffee. A strange kind of relief twists in your gut -- at least it's not Bill. Bill had yet to take up on his promise to 'break you for his own' and 'make you squeal'.  
"Speak. About your gang." Arthur stands to his full height once he's done with the pot, walking lazily over to stand in front of the both of you with all the causal menace of a great predator.
Blowing gently on the hot beverage Arthur settles his weight in one hip before taking a measured sip from the steaming tin cup, his free hand adjusting his ammunition belt that hangs low on his hips. When he brings the cup away from his face and swallows with a soft hum of contentment, Kieran drops his head at the display and starts honest to god sobbing.
"I can't..." Kieran whimpers, his lungs working against the tightness in his throat.
"Boy," Arthur warns, violence coloring his eyes as he just stands in front of the both of you and sips. He knows Kieran and you are close to breaking, knows it and relishes in it.
Fucking bastard.
"Excuse me?"
Your heart jumps when you realize you had just said that out loud. Dread promptly drains all the blood from your face.
"Wanna say that again?" Arthur turns his full attention to you as Kieran heaves around tears that won't come because the both of you are too dehydrated.
Your first instinct is to cower, to submit, to survive, but there's something severe in the way Arthur makes you feel as he glares at you. A dare. A threat. And now that you've opened your mouth, the first time doing so since the mountains, you can't stop yourself from repeating with perfectly articulated diction,
"Fucking bastard."
"First time you've spoken since the mountains and that's what you choose to say? Aw that's not too smart. Not the language of a lady, is it?"
As you press your lips together your chin gives a violent quiver at the clear implication in his tone. Your eyes grow guarded and your fear swiftly resurfaces and makes itself known by twisting your gut into knots. Arthur locks you into a staring contest you can't escape from. Unfocused, directionless rage holds court in his eyes, looking like its lived there unchecked for some time -- grown rotten -- though the rest of his expression speaks to a more complex range of emotions you don't know him well enough to decode. Of all the people in the gang, Arthur you know the least about. He's a ghost. He's rarely in camp and when he is his stays are short. This makes Arthur and his actions impossible to predict. Which makes Arthur the most dangerous. What you are able to gather though besides the undercurrent of rage, is an unimaginable need to unleash said rage on anyone or anything. You refuse to be the excuse he needs so you shut up and just stare back, unsure of what you are attempting to prove or accomplish by not looking away. What you gain by facing all that rage.
"Woah, hold your horses," Comes a new voice as another monster emerges from the fog.
It's the man with curly black shoulder length hair, the one with the authority, the one that everyone seems to listen to without question. Dutch is his name. Your first impression of him pleading in that cabin in the mountains with the man you've remembered to be Hosea, contradicts the swaggering asshole he presents himself as to Kieran and you. Though he's a swaggering asshole to everyone but these people...this gang. His gang. You made sure to pick out the leaders and sort out the hierarchy first.  
Dutch saunters up to stand beside Arthur followed by that horrible wretch Bill.
"It seems the cat has got our friend here's tongues." Dutch continues in a colorful drawl, "I was thinking Mr. Williamson could have a word."
'The pleasure of breakin' you for my own is gonna be so much fun.'
You violently shove away the memory of Bill's promise before it shows on your face. You pretend you don't remember the fact that they took the metal cot from the mountain cabin with them, and that Bill is probably itching to stretch you out on it and torture you for information you didn't have.
"You ready to talk boy?" Bill snarls as he gets up in Kieran's face before turning his eye on you and giving you a toothy sneer, showing off all of his yellowing teeth, "What about you? You ready to share?"
"I told you mister," Kieran all but whimpers as his eyes jump between all three men with a desperation you are currently trying to swallow. Bill swings his attention away from you, "I told all of you. I don't know nothin' okay? Th-they ain't no friends of mine. I've just been ridin' with 'em for awhile --,"
"Horseshit!" Bill interrupts with a loud curse, causing you to flinch so harshly against the tree you slice one of your raw fingers on a peeling piece of bark. Arthur almost startles because of how badly you startled. He notes the steady stream of blood dripping down into the grass from your fingers tied behind your back. His eyebrows furrow. He says nothing. "You see we heard that part so how about you tell the truth."
Bill turns to you for an answer, receives none, then turns to Dutch.
"Dutch what do you want me to do?"
"Hurt them so the next time they open their mouths, it is to tell us what is goin' on!" Dutch nearly shouts, causing you to involuntarily shut your eyes and shake as your fear gets the better of you despite your efforts to be brave. They all pick up on your fear now, blatant as it is in the wake of such a threat of violence. "Ah who am I kiddin'," Dutch lowers his voice to almost a hush, tone growing oddly intimate as he pushes his face closer and closer to yours, "O'Driscolls won't open their mouths, unless to tell a lie."
There's a beat of silence as Dutch eyes you up, then Kieran -- determining how hard it'll be to break you.
"Screw it. Let's just have some fun!" Dutch turns to Bill and scissors his fingers, "Geld him."
"Oh yeah!" Bill whoops as he bounds off to get whatever torture instrument they have ready.
Dutch turns to you then as Kieran's panic rockets alongside yours, "Arthur,"
Arthur has been quiet this whole time, so you jolt when he adjusts his weight between his feet at being called upon. He's standing closer to you than you thought.
"If you'd be so kind," Dutch says as he holds his hand up in a clear gesture for Arthur to back hand you across the face. You can't even look at Arthur, at either of them as Kieran's wails fill your ears and your heartbeat suffocates the breath in your dry swollen throat. Your eyes close again and like when you were young, you somehow hope that if you can't see what is trying to harm you, then it can't see you either.
--
Arthur hesitates.
He hesitates too long and something shifts in Dutch's eyes then. It's small and Arthur doesn't notice because he can't pull his gaze away from the woman shivering in front of him. What kind of a man beats a cowering helpless woman, Arthur thinks to himself.
What kind of man would ask you to do that? A tiny voice deep in his mind furthers.
Arthur can feel Dutch scowling at his hesitation, though he remains silent until Bill returns with a pair of hot iron tongs. Dutch and Bill cajole the O'Driscoll boy about losing his balls and Dutch goes on about eunuchs in Rome or something, but Arthur can't do much else but watch the woman try to breathe. He hears it wheeze a little whenever she inhales and it makes something in his gut twist uncomfortably. Bill snapping the hot tongs inches from the boy's crotch catches Arthur's attention and he finds himself whiplashing back into the present, not realizing he'd been transported from it in the first place.
"You sick bastards! What do you want from me!" The O'Driscoll cries out as he squishes himself as far back against the tree as his bindings allow.
"Well, you are going to talk," Dutch says, his bravado restored as Arthur's attention returns to the present at his words, "The only question is now, or after we got these little fellers off?"
"Okay! Okay! Listen! I know where O'Driscoll's holed up and you're right, he don't like you any more than you like him. He's at Six Point Cabin, I'll take you there! Serious, I don't like him. I mean I like him even less than I like you -- no offense."
Dutch scoffs, "None taken."
He then puts a hand on Bill's arm, and Williamson lowers the tongs.
"Okay then partner," Arthur starts, "Why don't you take a few of us up there right now."
Arthur turns to Dutch and nods, "I got this Dutch. Should be fun!"
As he moves around Bill and begins to untie the boy, Bill says, "Well what about the whore?"
Arthur's fingers slip on the knot he'd been working on. He grunts his frustration and pulls his hunting knife out, cutting clean through the ropes in one deft swipe.
Dutch hums to himself, appraising the woman with something entirely wicked gleaming in his eye.
"Do what you want with her. She might know more... personal information on Colm than the boy. Women I have found are always harder to break, so don't go easy on her."
Bill cackles at that and starts to move towards the woman and Arthur can't --
"Dutch," Arthur hears himself interject, chest tight, "Lets leave her alone for now. Brute force ain't gon' work on this one anyway, I can feel it. She seems the smart silent type."
Arthur sees something foreign swirl in Dutch's irises, something he's never seen there before -- can't identify -- which is strange because he knows Dutch better than he knows himself, but its then that Arthur realizes he'd subconsciously moved to place himself between Williamson and the woman. Shuddering breaths sound quietly from behind him and it makes him clench his teeth.
"Plus," Arthur forces out of his tight jaw, "I think Williamson should come with me to shoot up the O'Driscoll's our friend here will be leadin' us to." Arthur nods his head at Bill, "Go grab Marston and tell him he's ridin' with us."
Bill looks to Dutch,
"Go with Arthur," Dutch says, "We'll leave the other O'Driscoll here to contemplate her options."
Arthur turns then, actively choosing to ignore the subtle complexity of what just happened, as he hauls the O'Driscoll boy along threatening him the entire short way to the hitching posts.
--
Across camp Hosea had been watching the whole exchange. His eyebrows dig low into his gaze when he catches the undecipherable look Dutch gives Arthur's back.
--
The second you're left alone, you feel exposed in a way you hadn't before. With Kieran gone you find your fear has tripled. There is no one to share the horror with, no one to exchange small whispered words of comfort in the middle of the night, no one to just be there beside you. It's just you, freshly re-tied to the tree, by yourself and vulnerable. It hits you then how truly alone you are, and you realize that you literally don't know anybody. Even if you escaped or were miraculously let go, you couldn't reach out to anyone not because there's no cell phones or any means of getting in touch with someone, but because no one you know has been born yet. You are alone in the world, alone like you've never been before. You have no one.
You have no one.
--
The punch of devastation lands swiftly against your chest. The feeling takes your breath away and despite all your success in not showing your true feelings thus far, your face crumples and your head, suddenly much too heavy to hold up, lowers to hang. And like a button was pressed your lungs heave dry sobs past your lips. You're so distracted with your sorrow you forget to stifle your noises.
"Miss?"
Your head shoots up and a painful gasp wrenches open your cinched airways.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to startle you."
It takes your eyes a moment to settle on the tiny figure before you. The sun has journeyed over the sky some since Arthur took Kieran, so evening shadows have begun casting themselves low along the ground. The young boy Jack's shadow stretches all the way to your feet. Your heart settles some from its frantic galloping when you take in the boy's face. Curiosity holds most of the real estate on his features at the moment and you try to soothe yourself as he prepares to talk.
"I was just wonderin' if you were alright?" Jack has his hands knotted together like he knows he's doing something he shouldn't be. You figure talking to the camp prisoner fell under things his mother Abigail would firmly disapprove of.
"I'm okay Jack, go back to your mother. She'll want you near since its getting darker." You manage to say after wrestling your heartbeat and breathing back to normal.
Jack scuffs the tip of his small worn shoe against the dirt, eyes down, head cocked a little as he thinks.
"I just heard you makin' sounds I make when I'm really sad," Your heart clenches at his innocence, at the free kindness of a child, "And I just wanted to tell you that I hope you feel better."
With that Jack quickly turns and scampers away -- only to run smack into Javier who happened to be walking by.
"Woah!" Javier exclaims as he trips over the small kid and Jack tumbles to his knees with a small 'oof', "Slow down Jack,"
Jack mumbles something to Javier you can't hear (you assume its an apology), before Javier helps him to his feet and watches as Jack sprints off in the direction of his mother. Javier looks after Jack for a moment before retracing the boy's initial direction and finding his eyes landing on you. Your heart stops and you immediately lower your gaze. Besides Arthur, Javier is the hardest to get a read on, the hardest to predict. Even towards his own gang members the man keeps people on their best behavior and at a distance. You feel him deciding whether or not to come over, a few throbbing beats go by then -- thank god -- you hear him walk away towards one of the main campfires where most of the camp is collected. Everyone is currently eating dinner and you're grateful the beginnings of a song is enough to coax the man away.
As you sag against the tree you can do nothing but hope for Kieran's return...if he returns at all.  
What if Arthur kills him? What if Bill or John kills him?
What if Kieran is set free or escapes and never comes back?
You're especially terrified of that. Of him choosing to leave you even though you wouldn't blame him if he did and would probably do the exact same if the situation were reversed. You know you're just being selfish and awful but you can't help it.
You have no one.  
"You're free!"
Your head jerks up at the sound of a familiar voice a few hours later and the loss of tension in the ropes holding you hostage. You don't have the ability to respond as your lungs decide to freeze solid in your chest while your mind works to digest his words. You near collapse as the meaning of them finally settles.
"Wha --," You start with your eyebrows low, chest tight, and scarcely believing what you're hearing.
"Just what do you think you're doin'?" Kieran and you both jump at Arthur's booming voice as he manifests out of the murky evening shadows to loom behind Kieran.
Kieran pivots, "I-I-I thought you said I was one of you now? I th-thought --,"
"I said you's apart of us now, not her."
"But I told you she ain't an O'Driscoll! I told you she --,"
"Just because she ain't an O'Driscoll don't mean she's not a spy." Dutch boasts as he exists his tent, approaching the situation with a very unfriendly look in his eye that does not bode well for you.
You shrink back against the tree, no matter how much the action hurts your back and savagely kills your hope.
"The second you're told you're allowed to live you try settin' our prisoner free? That ain't makin' me too happy boah," Arthur grits through his teeth at Kieran who is quickly backing away from you, arms thrown up in surrender.
"That's not what I meant!" Kieran rushes to explain as you stare up at Dutch who watches you cower before him, "I didn't mean no offense! Promise! I thought --,"
"Well it don't matter what you thought! You may be travelin' with us now but you is still an O'Driscoll, you still hold no respect or position in this gang let alone have the freedom to choose whether or not to release goddamn prisoners!"
Kieran stumbles on something as he'd been backing up from a slowly advancing Arthur, and he trips and falls. He scrambles to his knees and stays there.
"Please sir I didn't mean nothin' by it! I'm sorry!"
"What is it you want Miss?" Dutch drawls as he addresses you. Arthur turns his attention towards you at Dutch's words.
"What?" You whisper, not able to manage a stronger tone.
"What is it, that you want?" Dutch repeats with diction so sharp it could cut.
You know this is probably a trick question, but you're too scared and your mind is too scattered by panic to think of anything clever.
"I want to go home." You reply in hushed devastated defeat.
"And where is home exactly?"
You pause at this, unsure of what to say.
Ah yes I'm from the future and I don't know how to get back! I've time traveled you see and have no idea where I am, what year it is, or who the fuck you people are! Also time traveling is apparently a no shoes no shirt no pants kind of service and you loose any recent memories on top of it! I don't know where I was when I traveled, if I did anything specific or was with anyone when it happened. I remember everything up until the big black space in my memory! Very confusing I know, but if you'd be so kind as to not burn me alive for witchcraft and send me on my way that'd be great!  
"Where are you from?" Dutch demands again, moving closer to you and becoming more menacing as you hesitate.
"Up north mostly." Is the weak answer you end up going with.
"Where up north, mostly?" Dutch immediately furthers.
Your mind goes blank when Arthur moves closer to you, both men crowding you into a corner, pushing you back into the tree with each step towards you.
"Why won't you tell us where you are from?"
You silently apologize to your family and friends, but mostly to yourself as you finally...after all this suffering...despite your promises to fight...
Silence reigns, signaling your choice to give up. These people want to kill you, hurt you, have been wanting to finish what they started and you're done denying the inevitability of your situation. You're done.
You hear the click of the safety before you register the hollow barrel of a revolver Dutch points straight between your eyes. No reaction claims your body though, no emotion runs through your heart, no clever escape plan tries to desperately form in your mind...just emptiness and a hollowed out feeling you assume used to be your agony.
"I'll ask you one last time, where are you from?" Dutch pauses then adds, "And who do you work for? Is it the Pinkertons? You have a contract with them?"
"Who?" You find yourself breathing out on a weak exhale, unable to do anything else but stare through the barrel of the weapon aimed at you, past Dutch, and into the nothingness you would soon join.
"They say they'll pay a handsome sum if you bring us all in?!"
Your face smoothes out as Dutch becomes more impassioned. Here it comes.
"You workin' with the law?! You an agent from Blackwater?!"
"Dutch --," A new voice attempts to interrupt. The older man, Hosea, appears at Dutch's flank. His eyes alight with alarm.
"How much money they offerin' you?! They holdin' your secrets hostage?!"
You close your eyes. Any second now.
"Dutch!" Hosea yells, but Dutch remains undeterred.
"You apart of a network?! Huh?! Are there people you workin' with?! Do you have people?!"
"I..." The world crystallizes into glass around you, immortalizing the moment, "I have no one." You whisper, voice collapsing as your soul wrenches itself free with each breath, preparing to depart. "I have nothing. I am no one." In this time.
A feeling so volatile and destructive ignites in your chest then and it reminds you of dying stars. You fall to your knees.
--
Arthur feels violently uncomfortable as he watches the woman once again dissolve into misery, not even afraid anymore just...done. She's given up. To see someone let go like that makes Arthur cling to his desire to stay alive even more fiercely than he already does. The simple cosmic irony of giving up in a world where dying happens so easily anyway is wrong -- unnatural, it goes against everything Arthur knows.
Two graves. Ten dollars.
Arthur's chest seizes as his reality spins, no one should give up like that. But its not until Arthur sees the look on Hosea's face that the true severity of what they're doing to the woman sinks in. Arthur feels like a hole has just been punched straight through his chest, leaving a gaping gory mass of space where his heart should be as he realizes the look on Hosea's face is disgust.
Disgust.
And its aimed at Dutch.
An inhale forces itself past Arthur's lips and burns in his chest when Hosea steps in front of the woman, and slowly crouches down before her.
"Wha -- Hosea," Dutch attempts to explain, affronted and just as shocked as Arthur by the look he'd been given, "I had to get the truth out of her! You know how watched we are these days. It was for the safety of the gang! I had to do it for us!"
Arthur thinks that's a good reason, he'd do anything for the gang too even if the method didn't sit well with him and it cost him hours of sleep at night, but Hosea doesn't even bother to respond as he starts murmuring soft things to the shaking woman on the ground.
--
When you hear the safety click back on and Dutch smoothly holster his weapon, a surge of sensation overwhelms you. It feels like breaching the surf of a raging ocean, sound-sight-smell-touch-breath-life roaring at you from all sides. The high that comes after surviving hits you hard -- your soul resettling in your body -- accompanied by a few choice emotions; surprise in yourself is one of them, relief is the most prominent, but that disturbingly detached sort of defeat still lurks in the middle of it all.
You realize with a start that you just evolved, you were presented with an opportunity to fail -- your life literally on the line -- and you survived, even if just barely. A man, Hosea you think, is crouching in front of you, voice gentle words soft trying to coax you away from the emptiness as Dutch rounds on Kieran.
"Whats your name?" He inquires delicately, a kind of respect lining his tone that wasn't there before.
The only hard confirmation you have that you are no longer a prisoner.
Fuck him, you seethe as suddenly that void in you is lit up and replacing it -- manifesting from it -- is insurmountable wrath that burns through what's left of your reservations, fuck all of them.
Eyes a riot of chaos and emotional carnage, you lift your gaze up to Hosea. You watch him take in your expression, watch him as he realizes how dangerous it was to mistreat you. He falls silent, weathered face dropping from its genuine sympathetic plight to one of poorly masked weariness.
You say your name and its a promise, "Y/n."
--
Arthur knows then that if they don't make her one of them, have her truly believe she has a place in their gang, she would find a way to kill them all.
He witnesses as her will rises from the ashes of her defeat like a phoenix, sparking an invisible fuse with an unpredictable and inevitable explosion at the end of it. Her rebirth is the most magnificent, humbling, and terrifying thing he has ever witnessed. It puts him in sheer trembling awe of her, the kind of awe he gets when watching a bear fight off a pack of wolves single-handedly and win. The kind of awe that leaves him speechless, that appeals to his own unyielding will and tells him he doesn't stand a chance, not really, not if its important, not against her.
He sees the fury take hold of her, relishing in its newest host, and the twisted part of him that's sick with violence grins.
Unable, or more like unwilling, to process the swath of emotion currently attempting to suffocate him, Arthur tears his gaze away from her -- away from her fury that threatens to ignite his own, and heads straight for Sabine before getting the fuck out of camp.
--
Thoughts? Share them if you’d like! xxx
Chapter 4
Masterlist
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justhappenstobeme · 4 years
Text
~ SUPER MARIO GALAXY 2 ~
On this day 10 years ago the sequel to The Greatest Adventure I've ever known was released in Europe on June 11th and now it's June 11th 2020
6/11/2010 ~ 6/11/2020
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( I first started writing this at around 7 p.m. on June 11th and I finished it at 10:50 p.m. on June 12th )
*This* is the story of how Mario set his flight off to the Stars.
*One quest that would require the determination that propels him into action.*
*Bestowed* upon us is the glory and beauty of all these celestial blessings guarded by czars.
*Upon* this path We pass so We can defeat them in our force of exaction.
*Us* We are because We are in this together as his Luma goes back into his Hat.
*Such* choices We make will effect the road blocks that build in front of Us ahead.
*A* amazing New World of so much Galaxies in this wonderous cosmic horizon but with foes we must combat.
*Astonishing* it is that it is that within this bliss of creation that many are facing dread.
*Yet* a storm is brewing in this sea of cosmic tranquility.
*Humbling* knowing there's always something out there you do not know that can be solved.
*Story* of you is once again about how You embark in this tactfully.
*Of* how Important it is to expect the unexpected and be involved.
*How* this storm moves in this place in this new world in these star systems.
*This* calls for your actions to be tested so you can open and reveal what you cannot see in these storms on tops of these metal monuments in this surronding cloud sea of pandemonium.
*Little* do You know that a bright light can shine in a dark storm because of a spark in your system.
*One* path Is not enough because this road is a commodity.
*Enjoyed* You are because more gifts and varieties of the universal miracles is past the wheels you turn.
*These* Designs and the design of the decisions you will show as you cross these roads.
*Greatest* treats are awaiting especially when it's unexpected and you learn.
*Joys* abound when your perspective changes from above to below in your pleasure in these crossroads.
*From* the force that forces the arrows to point to where we will stand.
*Above* our minds we will be when we decide what we will see.
*And* once we rise above we will also fall and that's our destination because its upside down and that was planned.
*Away* we go after the gravity tells us to flee.
*From* the paths we crossed into something so new and interesting.
*His* choices will give him true pleasure once he chose what interests him.
*Home* Is far away now but the homes of new ones he is visting.
*Into* them we shall explore and they will show there whim.
*New* sands flow above the old that we must push through.
*Experiences* told us this is what we should do.
*Of* these monuments we gain the pleasure of meeting them and saying goodbye to them after we've done our due.
*What* must be done will be done once we slip through this sand after we flew.
*He* shall enlighten the sparks that enflame in his heart to defeat and defame.
*Did* he decide where he will go next?
*Not* yet because he called the famished one to eat and that now is his aim.
*Know* that he is not always predictable because he fed him but he needed to be full so they decided he has to be annexed.
*So* they can feed him later after they accomplished more.
*He* and his luma seeked and found the flames that make the sea flow brightly.
*Would* they not expect how cold and solid it will soon turn once they would hit the switch and freeze it down to the core?
*Soon* They see the fires rain down and the ice fall to create a new road that is timely.
*Learn* from the past that it will soon come to mind to them to skate tight as they strike this squishy king in his supposed might.
*How* the Stars shine in the darkness of ahead that we cannot see.
*The* pathways are getting bleaker in this unknown night.
*Light* shines afar but where shall we go and be free?
*Gets* the keys to this unknown place in this vast kingdom of space.
*Brighter* the planets grow as he finds his way past the darkness avoiding those souls that observe.
*After* the trials and puzzles he will face.
*What* tells us in words is by his actions that he will get what he deserves.
*And* find what he receives.
*Will* he get what he deserves?
*Stop* and take a breather because your life is still living, and your back on the peaceful grounds of soothing elegance but take to the traps as you must learn to climb through past your last breath.
*His* own body must swift and weave so he must not be taken and leave a gruesome mark but rather a peaceful rememberence so that his work preserves.
*Works* based on how he uses the strength he was givin to seek the prize that was taken.
*For* past these old traps above ingravings he keeps climbing to seek that treasure that he swings too.
*Wicked* ones seek his life but those he loves he seeks to save there lifes and awaken.
*Atrocious* deeds the monster has committed but he still remembers the past because he took something and made it new.
*Avariceness* he caused in the past because Mario remembers the fortress he jumped into.
*Then* he avoided the obstacles the same way of old but with moves of new as he shoved off on his way to the top of this nostalgic fortress.
*He* will meet what he seen again but he will feel something new.
*Can* he defeat that king the same one but on a different place but in the same place For just as it was, it was done unto.
*“Rescue* these ones” your heart always said within you but to see the past on the outside gives a different meaning to those words.
*And* after we save more we soon will be there in a few.
*The* Starship will sail and face the battles ahead and it will ensue.
*Universe* Is going to be taken if we don't fight we will not gain something past this belt.
*And* the foes that seek to be glorified will be shamed because what they did was a shame but the righteous one that suffers will be in the fame.
*Show* that you are the one that deserves to win because of the love that you felt.
*That* the stars that shine your way to the final gate beyond the flames.
*He* sits on his throne after everything he conqured and captured and laughs at you because he believes something different from you, and that is… that He will win.
*Is* the hero going to break the seals to the door that opens to reveal this vile beast?
*Truly* the one that is correct that will be shown but only proven by all the deeds of all of this and what will cease.
*The* one that true in word and deed will fight and win and enjoy the feast.
*Hero* he is as he soars the captured cosmos until he rushes through the fiery gates to reach his final goal past his home as far as the west meets the east.
*Of* the waves his glorious friend waves the final goodbye after what they passed through until the gates he unleashed.
*The* seals he breaks by his strikes he opens the doors and fades into the darkness past the door.
*Stars* will shine ahead after you've token the steps to your final chore.
*Above* you will surely strike his head after you've bruised your heel after he punched the floor.
*With* true dedicated conviction you will win because all you know is what's true and not what's war.
*His* stars shall shine after all that he's accomplished as his special one flies with his goal within her hands they will touch and soon will be moved to celebrate because it’s all over…
*" Thank you Mario. "*
" For Your Quest is Over. "
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zetalial · 4 years
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@creativityknight​ Please enjoy this little piece of fanfiction I wrote for your secret santa gift. Just a bit of hurt/comfort featuring Ed, Al, Hughes and Gracia. Happy Christmas!
“Are you alright?”
Ed clenched his fists, feeling frustrated. It was not the first time Al had asked him that today. What was he doing wrong? He tried to keep up his regular furious pace with his head held high. He did not like that Al was somehow picking up that something was wrong.
Okay, yes, there were several things wrong with him. He’d been forced to skip a couple meals over the last few days and was beginning to feel the effects. He also hadn’t slept well last night. And it was absolutely freezing. This was all compounded by the fact that their last mission had been a complete failure and he was pretty badly bruised from their latest skirmish.
It was that last thought that encouraged him to keep moving. How could he rest now, without any hint of success? How could he allow himself to complain about his physical limitations when his brother didn’t even get to experience them? No, he wasn’t going to tell Al that anything was wrong - these were just minor inconveniences and he didn’t need Al to worry about him.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just this atrocious weather, slowing us down,” Ed grumbled in reply, trying to keep his voice steady.
He wasn’t sure how convincing he was, but fortunately, Al didn’t press the issue.
And he wasn’t really lying either - because the stupidly cold day was bad as well. His automail joints seemed to burn and his leg in particular kept locking up, making the simple act of walking a chore. It didn’t seem to matter how many layers he wore, for the cold always leeched into his metal arm and seared his shoulder.
“How about we visit Lieutenant-Colonel Hughes first?” Al suggested, a twinkle in his soulfire eyes. “I’m sure the Colonel won’t mind waiting for us.”
Ed grinned, feeling a touch more optimistic. That sounded like a plan.
-
“Edward, Alphonse - how good to see you!” It was Gracia who opened the door. “Come in! Come in! You boys push yourselves too hard so close to the holidays.”
Ed sighed in relief at the warm, familiar home. In seconds he had made his way in and collapsed onto the absolutely softest couch while Al did all the polite talking for him.
“Sorry for coming here so suddenly, I hope you’re not too busy?”
“Not at all! We were just having a quiet day in.”
“Then I’m afraid we’ve ruined that - brother doesn’t do quiet,” Al replied wryly.
“Hey! You’re louder than me,” Ed retorted without any real heat.
“Ed! I thought I heard your voice!” Hughes entered the living room shooting him a teasing smile.
“Oh, shut up.” Ed snapped. “Pass me that blanket?”
Beside him, Al let out an audible sigh, even as Hughes flung the fluffy blanket over him, still cheerily grinning.
“Sorry about him! He’s just in a bad mood because he’s cold. It’s a pleasure to be here, for the both of us.”
“It’s fine Alphonse - it’s clear Ed’s just making himself at home.”
Ed smiled, beginning to feel more relaxed as he wrapped the blankets more firmly around him. This was nice. Hughes didn’t have any expectations for him to meet; he didn’t care about how they looked or that they turned up without warning to steal their warm couches and (hopefully) some food.
They couldn’t stay here forever of course, but sometimes he wished he could, Ed thought, as he watched Gracia talking to Al tenderly, convincing him to sit by the fire. It was so good to know that there were people who could see the soul behind the armour. In their last mission, it hadn’t been so simple.
“Why aren’t you in the office anyway? I thought you were always working,” Al was asking Hughes.
“It does feel like that, sometimes,” Gracia agreed.
“Hey, I’m not that bad! I could say the same about you, you know? You’ve been away for a whole month. I’m taking this whole week off, and you should too.”
As he said this, Hughes sat down right beside him and rested a warm hand on his strained right shoulder. The sudden contact was accompanied by a brief flare of pain. It was all Ed could do to refrain from a hiss.
“Oh no, we couldn’t take a break. We have to keep searching, you know? We’re not much good at being idle.” Al responded politely.
Ed nodded along. Damn, a week-long break sounded nice though. He was dreading travelling in this bleak weather where it seemed eternally dark and wet and cold. Even their underfurnished military dorms sounded inviting.
But if Al wanted to keep going, he couldn’t slow him down over such trivial concerns.
“Somehow I can imagine that,” Hughes said. “You’re troublesome enough in small doses-”
“Don’t call us small!”
“-And you - seriously Ed? - you don’t seem to know how to relax.”
“I am relaxing,” Ed fumed, shooting Hughes his best glare. “You’re not helping.”
But Hughes only started chuckling and, moments later, Gracia was joining in too, a helpless laughter she couldn’t seem to hold in. Ed could only sigh, and decided to just ignore them and focus on warming up his automail. This damned family - he couldn’t even get properly annoyed at them.
“Well feel free to relax here as long as you want - you definitely need to stay long enough to try my apple strudel,” Hughes finally continued.
Ed wasn’t quite certain what a strudel was, but it sounded delicious. And it explained the lovely, warm smells coming from the kitchen. They were definitely staying as long as possible.
“You’re making it?” Al asked.
“He’s trying to impress Elysia.” It was Gracia who answered. “She loves apple pie, you know?”
Homemade apple pie was absolutely delicious.
“Anyway, it has quite a ways to go so why don’t you both go upstairs and get changed?” Gracia suggested, smiling but Ed felt himself frowning as she glanced at Al.
“Oh, no that’s fine. I can’t take this off,” Al replied vaguely, looking over to him for help.
Al hated to lie, Ed knew, but explaining their situation was far worse. “Yeah, don’t worry about it - I could do with a change though,” Ed said quickly.
He untangled himself from his blankets, limbs protesting as he struggled to his feet even as he plastered on a large grin. Much as he hated to do this, delaying was unwise -he needed to check on his injuries and his automail. Best to do it now, before anyone noticed anything was wrong.
His whole body felt heavy and his automail arm wasn’t nearly warm yet but he forced himself up the stairs, and directly into a large bathroom, where he practically collapsed on the tiled floor, feeling drained. How had he even survived the trip from the station to this house without stopping?
Ed ran some hot water; experience had taught him that water was the best way to quickly warm himself, and more importantly his arm, up. It was also far safer to use alchemy to heat water up rather than directly transmuting his arm.
In no time, he had prepared a bath and let out a sigh of relief as he entered. He closed his eyes and just relaxed. This was bliss. The biting cold was finally subsiding.
His chest was still stinging with pain however. The scratches and bruises would need extra attention. Ed sighed, he’d deal with it as best he could now and then they’d eat - food sounded absolutely lovely.
Then they’d have to head to the Military HQ, they’d delayed long enough already - though they’d inevitably have to deal with Mustang’s complaints. And then they would choose another destination and they could only hope the weather wouldn’t get any worse.
But that was to worry about later.
-
Maes Hughes crept up stairs, wondering what he was going to say. He had decided to talk to Ed. The young alchemist was clearly pushing himself too hard and it was going to get him into trouble.
No... it was more than that. He cared. Those boys seemed to trigger some sort of instinct in him - from the moment he’d met the distinctive pair, he’d felt the urge to help them. They’d wormed their way right into his heart in an instant and now he felt responsible for them.
Ed was pushing himself too hard and Maes wanted to help him, to convince him to slow down before he burned himself out. The boys had been given so much independence to do what they needed and that meant they had no one really looking out for them.
Roy cared about them too, Maes knew, but he didn’t seem to know how to properly reach out to them. Maybe he couldn’t - stuck playing the role of their superior officer. And perhaps he sometimes struggled to see past Ed’s bluster.
Maes had nearly been convinced himself, when the two had wandered in. They hadn’t looked particularly worse for wear, cold weather aside. Ed has been alternatively smiling and grouchy and Al hadn’t given any signs that anything was wrong.
But when he’d brushed a hand on Ed’s shoulder, he’d seen the way Ed had flinched slightly and, more importantly, felt the startling cold of Ed’s automail. Sometimes, Maes forgot Ed even had fake limbs - he hadn’t realised how affected by the weather the metal limbs could be.
But obviously they had to be bothering him. And if Ed was trying to keep it hidden, then he was probably in worse shape than he appeared and shouldn’t be heading out into even more danger.
(He shouldn’t be in any danger at all, really. But Maes knew a lost cause when he saw one and he knew there was no chance of getting the very driven pair to back off entirely. Convincing them to take any break when they obviously needed it was hard enough.)
He heard sounds coming from their spare room and poked his head through the open door. He gasped.
“Ed! Are you okay?”
Ed froze. He looked up and shot him a glare. “What are you doing here? Go away.”
(Why did he have to be the type conceal injuries? Why wasn’t he surprised?)
“Ed! You’re bleeding.” He observed, kneeling down beside the boy. Ed had taken off his shirt, leaving his chest, and a plethora of injuries, bare. “What happened to you?”
“It’s not bleeding, it’s just a bit red.” Ed denied, hiding the long gash from view with his flesh hand. “And just a fight; a bit of shrapnel. It’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing. Listen, if you need medical supplies, then I’ve got some but that’ll take some time to heal.” Even as he said this, He could see the gash was less bad then he’d initially feared. It looked painful but it didn’t seem to actually be bleeding.
However it also drew his eye to other injuries. Ed’s skin was marked by a number of old bruises and a collection of smaller cuts, even as Ed crouched and tried to hide as much of his skin as possible from view.
“I’m fine - I’m taking care of it.” Ed growled.
(He was doing an alright job - yes. Somehow this just filled him with more dread. How often had he tended to his own injuries.)
And Maes quickly realised he was too close and he was making him uncomfortable. He’d come here to talk, hadn’t he?
“Good,” he replied gently, shuffling back, and Ed relaxed minutely. “But if there’s anything else you need, don’t hesitate to ask, alright?”
“Fine,” Ed said. It may have just been his attempt to end the conversation but Maes still counted it as progress.
(They didn’t like to ask for help. Why were they so reluctant to extend trust to others?)
“Lovely - And remember that you can ask my lovely Gracia as well if I’m not available - she’s happy to help as well!”
Ed just nodded, and turned to grab his shirt. This revealed a little more skin but Maes managed to stop himself reacting at the sight of a few more bruises. Exactly how bad had that fight gone for him?
“And please consider taking a few days off as well - you and your brother can stay here if you don’t want to stay at the military dorms.”
Ed sighed. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not quitting because of a few bruises.”
(Taking a holiday wasn’t quitting!)
Why couldn’t he see what was good for him? Maes longed to argue, but he could sense it was unlikely to really help. Ed wasn’t going to be convinced with sound reason.
Instead he nodded and stood up once more. “Alright, I’ll leave you alone then. And don’t worry, I won’t mention anything to Al.”
Ed looked up at him in surprise. He offered him a soft smile. “Thanks.”
It wasn’t much but it was all he could do for now. He turned to exit the room. “Wait,” Ed spoke up once more.
“Err... really thanks. I am fine. But thanks,” Ed was ducking his head so he couldn’t make out his expression.
Maes paused. Did that count as Ed opening up to him? No, probably not. Either way...
He turned around once more and quickly knelt down to wrap his arms around him and gave the small boy a gentle hug. “We love you, you know that, right?” he murmured.
Ed didn’t react, but he didn’t draw away either.
------------
When the Elric brothers had finally departed, with bright smiles and a generous amount of pastry, Maes picked up his telephone. Roy would be able to convince them to hang around the city for a little longer, if he knew they needed the rest.
-
-
Thanks for reading. This piece was a little more troublesome than I anticipated and I probably should’ve done more dialogue - I’m always better at dialogue. Oh well. @fmasecretsanta2019​ This event was lots of fun to participate in. Cheers!
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prettywordsyouleft · 5 years
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Too Good To Be Wrong - Part 6 [M]
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Summary: No matter how much you tried, you couldn’t resist Park Chanyeol, even if you knew it would test everything that you thought family stood for.
Genre: childhood friends & “siblings” to lovers au / forbidden romance / older woman - younger man au
Characters: Park Chanyeol x female reader
A/N: This is a series about falling in love with your “brother” Chanyeol - your family took him in when you were younger. It will contain mature content in later parts, but for the majority of the story it’s about reconnecting as adults and discovering feelings for each other.
I am expecting Too Good to be Wrong to be around 10 parts long, but this could change depending on how the story progresses in further parts.
Too Good To Be Wrong will be posted every Tuesday at 10am NZST.
Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10
**The steamy scene at the end of this part isn’t very descriptive but I’ve marked it as mature content just to be safe**
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It was a new experience to have a boyfriend on your birthday. Even though you dated in the past, you had never celebrated your special day with anyone other than your family and friends. Of course, you had celebrated in many ways, traditionally with your family, growing up having birthday parties with everyone in your township turning up to wish you well. And in Seoul, you had gone to the clubs, you had done the expensive dinners and you had even gone to a light show on your birthday once.
This wasn’t your first birthday with Chanyeol either, given the many years you had known and then lived with him. But it was different now that he was your boyfriend.
As soon as you woke up, you knew it was going to be a day to remember. Instead of still being asleep, you opened your eyes to find Chanyeol staring at you, a smile growing on his lips when he recognised you were awake. “So this is what thirty looks like, huh?”
“Is it dreadful?” you asked tentatively, reaching to pat down your hair that you knew would be a mess. Chanyeol reached out to cease your action, bringing your hand over to his lips so he could kiss the skin on the back of your hand.
“I think you became more gorgeous overnight.”
You blushed and thumped at his chest playfully. “Don’t be silly.”
“I’m certain about it,” he continued, moving in closer to you so he could greet you with a morning kiss. “Happy birthday, Y/N.”
“Not noona today?” you teased, feeling giddy with how he was staring at you. Chanyeol chuckled and then pulled you on top of him, your eyes widening at the sudden position change.  
Although you had gotten pretty good at sharing everything with Chanyeol – food, drinks, endless kisses and even your bed, you hadn’t yet shared your body with him. There had been a few times where you had gotten close to baring yourself to Chanyeol when making out turned so heated that you were sweating by the time you pulled apart. But you hadn’t actually gone that far in your relationship. Most of the time you were satisfied with what you had already. Yet in positions that suddenly messed with your mind like this, you realised there was a craving building up for more. You blinked rapidly; knowing neither of you had time to lay in bed any longer than you had already. Chanyeol smirked at your obvious dishevelment, shaking his head at you. “What are you thinking?”
“Huh? Oh, just that I need to get in the shower. So do you,” you babbled and then gaped at how you constructed your sentence. “I mean, not at the same time. You need to shower first or I can go now and-”
“We could just conserve water and shower together?” Chanyeol offered and you turned beet red. His laugh was loud and he gently sat up, pulling you into his lap and burying into you. “Your face was priceless just now.”
“Don’t tease me like this, it’s my birthday,” you mumbled, feeling juvenile despite now being three decades old. You sighed heavily.
“Well, the birthday girl should go shower first so she can get ready for her day.” You nodded and got up, numbly making your way to the bathroom and shutting the door. Looking at yourself in the mirror on the wall, you tried to decipher if you had actually changed overnight as Chanyeol had proclaimed. Outwardly, you looked the same. But there was definitely something new buzzing around inside of you now.
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All day long you were distracted by endless thoughts of Chanyeol from this morning’s predicament. Had you been too hasty with how quickly your arousal grew? Did Chanyeol even feel the position held any significance? You had straddled his lap a couple of times when making out on the sofa but it never had happened in bed before. Was that all it was, simply a different location allowing your limited experiences to heighten to a point that you couldn’t stop thinking about it? And when you felt that you had come to a conclusion on why for you, it led you down a path about him. Just how experienced was Chanyeol? You hadn’t thought to ask him how many partners he had before you. It hadn’t mattered during your relationship so far and considering it now seemed detrimental for you. All the same, you spent a lot of your day convincing yourself that Chanyeol had to be experienced in bed because no one would leave someone as handsome as him unattended for too long. And this only depressed you further.
“Delivery for you up at the front desk, Y/N.”
You glanced up at your co-worker who was smiling a little bitterly at her statement and frowned. Who would be delivering you anything? Getting up, you headed to the reception for your department and gasped at the bouquet of flowers that laid on the counter. They were your favourite flowers, though it didn’t actually register they were for you until the receptionist handed them to you.
“I didn’t know it was your birthday, Y/N!”
“Ah, well…” you replied meekly and reached for the card attached to the wrapping. You smiled at the earnest receptionist waiting for your response and then opened the card.
These flowers aren’t as beautiful as you but I hope they make you smile.
- Chanyeol xxx
“Do you also have a boyfriend that we didn’t know about?”
Glancing up at her, you nodded brightly, gripping the flowers to your chest happily. “I have the best boyfriend.”
Chanyeol continued to live up to his new title. You arrived home in a dreamy state and smelt the aroma within your apartment which immediately perked you up. Approaching Chanyeol in the kitchen as he finished dishing up the meal, you stretched up to meet him midway for a greeting kiss. “Thank you for the flowers. And for dinner too, it smells delicious.”
“You’re full of compliments for me,” he mused happily, gesturing for you to go over to the table so you could eat. Dinner passed with conversation over how both your day had gone, and then you insisted on helping Chanyeol with the dishes even if you were the birthday girl. Even doing the mundane chores you did together all the time felt different tonight and by the time you were seated on the sofa with a bunch of movies lined up on Netflix, you were kind of overwhelmed.
Chanyeol noticed. “I haven’t even done much for you today but you look like you’re about to cry with happiness.”
“Am not,” you refuted, blinking rapidly. Chanyeol chuckled as you snuggled into his side more to hide your growing emotions. “Today has been pretty amazing though. Thank you again, I love you.”
“What?”
“Hm?” You glanced up at Chanyeol’s stunned expression and frowned. “What did I say? I thanked you for helping me have such a wonderful day.”
“And you said you loved me,” he reminded. You sat up as you recalled your sentence and gasped. The words had fallen out so naturally that you hadn’t even second-guessed them. Staring back at him, you smiled and cupped his face in your hands. Leaning over, you pecked Chanyeol’s lips before nodding. “I do love you.”
“You can’t take it back.”
You rolled your eyes at his childish response. “Maybe I should.”
“No, you’ve said it twice now,” he stated firmly and pulled you onto his lap. You swallowed heavily at being back here again for the second time today. Chanyeol’s gaze was now burning and you felt your breath quicken. “You really do love me, right?”
“Of course, I love you.”
“Do you know how many years I’ve wanted to hear that?” he asked with a groan, his hands now firmly around your waist. He picked you up as he stood up and you tightened your grip around him. “Say it again.”
“Not unless you say it back,” you bartered and Chanyeol nodded, walking slowly towards his bedroom. “I love you, Chanyeol.”
“I love you too,” he murmured before crashing his lips down on yours, pushing you both into the wall to balance the increasing passion that filled the room. You weren’t even in the bedroom yet, but the need was too dire and you started yanking at the clothing between you both. Chanyeol groaned again as he kissed you, his grip loosening on you as you pulled at his tee. He balanced you with his thigh as he helped you get it off him and then smiled down at you, panting heavily. “Let me show you just how much I love you, Y/N.”
It was slower than you expected. Despite the hastiness of your approach, once Chanyeol laid you down on his bed, his actions slowed with the intention of bringing you to the utmost pleasurable state. And when you cried out his name as you climaxed, you knew that there would never be another man for you.
“Wow,” he breathed as he laid down beside you, his swollen lips growing wider as he stared at your naked form appreciatively. “You kept all of that away from me.”
“I could say the same to you,” you managed as you held onto your chest, waiting for your breathing and heartbeat to regulate again. You smirked. “Is that my only birthday present from you tonight?”
“Weren’t the flowers and dinner enough?” he asked, yet he moved closer to you again, kissing you slowly at first. It built up until you felt breathless and your hands were roaming over his skin with desire again. He groaned at your approach. “So needy.”
“All I’ve had really is just a small taste,” you said coyly, smiling up at your boyfriend who was staring at you intensely again. Chanyeol cursed softly.
“Well, you must be starved. We should do something about that, can’t have you hungry,” he murmured, moving down your body and trailing his mouth over your chest.
You received more presents than you ever thought would be possible from Chanyeol that night.
_________________
Part 7
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saxonspud · 4 years
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Bloody Outlaws - Part 4
I now have 100 followers, so have another chapter 😂
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[Dutch’s P.O.V.]
I sigh, and shake my head. I look across at Hosea.
“He set a trap for me, he drained her almost dry, then offered her to me, suggested I taste her before I decided.”
Hosea rolled his eyes, “I guess by the look of her, you guessed what he was doing.”
I nodded, “We have to put an end to him, Hosea. One way or another!”
Hosea nodded. “Normally I don't condone vengeance or revenge, but for Colm O’Driscoll, I can make an exception.”
Arthur rolled his eyes, “you would put an end to him, just because of how he’s treated his pet!”
I shook my head, “Son, you still have so much to learn, especially about the relationship between a vampire and their pet!”
Arthur sighed, “this isn’t about Colm is it? It’s still about Annabelle. You get too attached to your pets, Dutch.”
My fangs extended, and I hissed at Arthur.
“You better go, Arthur,” Hosea warned him.
Hosea turned to look at me, as he followed Arthur out the door.
“And you better calm down, you’re frightening your little one!”
I look at the bed, and she is curled up in a ball.
This hadn’t been my intention, but Arthur had annoyed me. How dare he mention my beloved Annabelle in the same breath as Colm O’Driscoll. Maybe when Arthur had a pet, he would understand.
I gently touch her back, with my hand.
“Hush little one, its ok.” I whisper.
I watch as she slowly uncurls her body, and kneels in front of me.
“Sorry Master, I was frightened.” she whimpers.
I made sure my fangs were retracted, and smile at her as I stroke her cheek.
“No need to be frightened, little one, its time for your reward.”
She stares at me, a surprised look on her face, “do I deserve one, Master?”
I smile again, my little pet seems to brighten even the dullest of days.
“You now have permission to leave the bed,” I say as I extend my hand.
She takes it, which pleases me. Her hand is so tiny, in comparison to mine. She is small for a human, I wonder how old she is. I will find out soon.
As her feet touch the floor, she stumbles slightly. I have to remember she is still quite weak. She must have more food.
I lead her over to the dresser, where I let go of her hand. She holds onto mine for a second, before she lets go. Her trust is growing. I need her to trust me fully before I feed from her.
I open the drawer and pull out a shirt, it is one of mine. I want her to smell my scent even when I am not around.
“Lift up your arms, little one,” I ask, yet she knows it is a command, there is no hesitation.
I slip the shirt over her head and arms. It drowns her, the bottom falling below her knees. I roll up the sleeves, until I see her hands. I gently lower her hands to her sides, and take a step back. The oversized shirt makes her look even smaller, even more fragile.
“There,” I say. I smile. She doesn't smile back, but looks down at herself.
“Thank you, Master.”
I wonder what she looks like when she smiles. I hope she smiles soon.
[Katie’s P.O.V.]
I hadn’t seen his fangs fully extended before, and the noise he made at the other vampire. It terrified me. I just curled up in a ball. Even when I was in the dungeon, I never saw Colm’s fangs. It was usually dark, or I closed my eyes. I felt them though, maybe that's why I was so frightened. I know he will feed on me soon. I dread it.
I think he doesn't mean to frighten me, he seemed sorry. It’s strange when he touches me. His hands are cold, but it makes my body heat up. I scold myself, because I shouldn't like it, but I do. It feels good. He’s always gentle. Well so far he has been. If I make him angry then it will probably feel different. Maybe I should do that, it might stop me from liking it so much.
When he held out his hand, and gave me permission to leave the bed, I think I was a little too keen. It seemed to make him happy though. If making him happy, stops him from punishing me, then I should continue. But I don't want to make him happy, I want to leave this place. Be a normal human being. Go back to my parents, complain about the chores they give me. Not be a vampires next meal, a slave. Call it what you will, slave, pet. It’s all the same, I have no free will, which isn’t fair.
He puts a shirt on me, its one of his. Its so big, and it smells of him. Its not an unpleasant smell, but I feel even more like I belong to him, when I can smell him all the time.
“Thank you, Master”
He looks at me, I see the vaguest expression of disappointment. I wonder what he expects. I’m thankful I’m no longer naked. I’m thankful that I’m no longer chained up in a dungeon, being whipped everyday. I’m still scared though. Every waking second, I’m scared for what might happen next, and that I have no control over it.
His hand presses into the small of my back.
“Come little one, this way,” he directs.
I can’t help but lean into his hand. I really need to get a grip on myself.
He guides me to a set of double doors. The same ones that came crashing open, when I heard the monster scream. They lead into a sitting room. Its quite fancy, with an ornate desk, and a sofa.
Doors lead out onto a balcony.
“Sit down, little one,” he gestures to the sofa. I, of course comply. If I say no, it breaks one of his rules. My last punishment was more painful than any of Colm's beatings. The only advantage I have now, is that I know what the rules are, so I can try and avoid the punishment.
As I sit, another door opens, and Miss Grimshaw comes in with a bowl of food.
“I brought you some food,” she smiles. She goes to hand me the bowl. She always seems to be smiling. I’m a little suspicious.
“Thank you,” I respond, “but I’m not hungry.”
I know why they are feeding me so well, its so I get strong. Then he will feed from me. I would prefer to starve, than let that happen.
He walks over to me, “You will eat,” he states. Its not on offer, its a command.
I look at him, “I’m...” I hesitate, if I tell him I’m not hungry, I’ll be breaking two rules, lying to him, and not obeying him. I sigh, and take the bowl from Miss Grimshaw.
“Thank you,” I say.
She smiles at me, I wish she wouldn't bother, its so fake.
I look at the food, and a wave of sickness passes over me. Not from the smell of the food, but from what will happen once I regain my strength.
I put a spoonful in my mouth, and chew. It tastes no better than sawdust to me right now. Maybe my expressions show that. No sooner have I forced one mouthful down, I feel a hand on the bowl.
I look up, and see my master, a concerned look on his face. He’s probably worried I’ll throw up all over his lovely furniture.
I let him take the bowl, and he puts it on a small coffee table. I hadn't noticed it before, its just as ornate as the sofa.
He holds out his hand, which I take again. The vaguest hint of a smile crosses his lips.
“Come little one, lets get some fresh air.” he suggests.
He leads me onto the balcony. I gasp at the view, but not only that. The number of people milling around below. Busying themselves with chores. Laughing. They all seem happy.
I grip the Balustrade, and peer over the balcony.
I wonder if they are all vampires, or if some of them are like Miss Grimshaw, or if any are like me.
The people aren’t the only thing I’m slightly awestruck over. I have no idea where I am. But the property is huge, it sits on the edge of a river, also surrounded by trees, then a swamp to the other side. There's a big fountain in the front, and ornate concrete gate posts.
My heart drops slightly, when I see a guard on the gate. Even if I was left alone for a few minutes, which somehow seems unlikely, my chance of escape is remote. Even if I made it past the guard, I have no idea where I am.
[Dutch’s P.O.V.]
Her mind is still screaming at me like an open book. Even more so now, since I marked her. Maybe it was too soon, but I didn't want anyone else claiming her.
I don't even have to probe it anymore, to know what's she’s thinking. Its there, all the time. Her fear. Fear of being fed from. Fear of the pain that is to come. If only she knew. If only Colm hadn’t taken pleasure from seeing her suffer.
Then there are her other thoughts. Running. Escaping. The only good thing, is that she’s too frightened of the punishment to try. The first thing she did, when she looked out over the balcony, was to scope the area, for any means of escape.
She saw Javier, on guard duty, by the gate. Any ideas of running were immediately quashed. I’m glad. I don't want to have to punish her. If she tries to run, though, I won’t have any choice. Arthur, is already starting to doubt me, doubt my strength. He’s still so young, compared to myself and Hosea.
There is only one thing I can do. I have to feed from her. Show her it isn’t as bad as she imagines. It would be better if she was stronger, but I will just be careful. Once I have fed from her, she won’t want to leave. She will be mine, I know it.
I put my hand on her shoulder, she looks up at me. Every time she looks at me, she looks fearful.
“Come little one, its time.” I say, as gently as I can.
I can feel the tension in her body. But she allows me to guide her. Any colour she had in her face, seems to have drained away. She looks even more pale than before.
I guide her back into the bedroom. When we approach the bed, I come to a stop.
“Arms up,” I tell her. She hesitates for a second, then raises her arms. I quickly remove her shirt.
I gaze at her, taking in her sweet little body. She is exquisite. I wont tell her though, it wont help. If anything it will make her more fearful.
“Lay down, little one,” I whisper.
She lays down on the bed, and I sit next to her. My heart could break for her, as I see tears running down her cheeks. I wipe them away with my thumbs. Its a pointless effort, as more just take their place.
I gentle cradle her head in my hand, moving her auburn hair away from her neck. I pull her slowly towards me.
My other hand holds her wrist, my thumb gently rubbing circles in the palm of her hand. Her eyes glance towards her hand, distracting her momentarily.
I place my mouth on her neck, and extend my fangs. As they pierce her skin, she whimpers.
I gently touch her mind, blocking any sensation of pain she feels.
I let go of her hand, gently running my hand across her back, caressing her velvet skin. She trembles, and moans under my touch.
I savour her sweet blood, as it trickles down my throat. It is the sweetest of nectar. I want to drink deeply, but I know I mustn’t. This is for her, not for me.
I retract my fangs, my lips still on her neck, and gently seal the wound with my tongue.
I lick my lips, removing all traces of her blood. She doesn't need to see that.
I withdraw from her mind completely, gently placing kisses along her collar bone.
She opens her eyes, there is no fear there now. I brush my fingers across her cheek, delicately with a feather like touch, then press my lips to her forehead.
“Sleep now little one,” I whisper.
I don't compel her, its more of a request, a suggestion. Not a command.
As I stand up, I hear her voice.
“Master?”
I smile, “what is it little one?”
She hesitates, I can see she wants to ask me something.
“Will you… will you stay with me...please?”
She doesn't beg, its just a polite request.
I nod gently, and see the vaguest hint of a smile. Its beautiful.
I take off my waistcoat and shirt, and lay down on the bed. Wrapping my arms around her, I pull her   back into my chest. She relaxes, and rests her head on my shoulder.
My hand gently slides down and rests on her hip. Rubbing circles with my thumb.
“Who do you belong to, little one?” I whisper.
Without hesitation she replies.
“You, Master.”
I kiss the top of her head.
“Good girl.”
Her breathing becomes more regular, she had drifted off to sleep.
She wont run now, she is mine. Mind, body and soul.
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