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#the eye itself is green but the sky is yellow and red
zmeess · 2 months
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Do you have any tips for rendering? I'm pretty confident in my sketches and linework, but when it comes to rendering colour I always get choked up and embarrassed.
i do! i am in no way an expert, but these tips are something i've come to throughout my painting journey, and they have helped me create more well-rounded paintings.
1. if you haven't already, start with familiarizing yourself with your drawing software's painting features and capabilities. just try all the brushes yourself, play with all the settings, look up official and unofficial tutorials; you will truly be surprised how much stuff default brushes can do. there is nothing wrong with asking other artists for their brushes/brush settings, but in my experience it often prevents people from experimenting on their own. when i just started doing digital art i used to hoard PS brushes, but i never really used any of them except for one pencil brush that i eventually replaced with a brush i created myself in my preferred software.
2. always work on your entire painting evenly. never start working on details of one part before you've decided on and laid out all the colors/done the underpainting.
3. decide on your color values right at the start. simply put, you should start not only with figuring out the color scheme, but also which parts of your painting are going to be light and which are going to be dark. look at the underpainting below—regardless of the color and details i added at later stages, the sky remained the lightest part of the picture, which is part of what allows the character to stand out.
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4. experiment with textures! physical mediums such as paints often have the advantage of naturally creating textures that are pleasant to the eye, while with digital art you sometimes might want to add your own to avoid a sort of 'bland' look. in the past i've created my own textures by painting and scanning watercolor blobs and laying them over my digital art in various layer modes.
5. try not to think of evenly colored objects, especially flat surfaces, as something that requires only one color to be depicted in art. look at the floor in this painting by Edgar Degas—our brains absolutely register it as an evenly colored surface, but in the painting itself not only does the floor shift from light to dark (because some portion of it is closer to the source of light), it also features many different hues: red, yellow, green, etc.
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6. i greatly recommend at least trying rendering everything on one layer—it will help all the parts of your painting to stick together, preventing some details from looking like a cutout glued to the canvas. this tip might be more or less helpful depending on the type of art style you're interested in pursuing, but rolling around in the same paint on one layer really unifies your picture if you're into more 'painterly'/brushstroke-heavy styles.
7. for the same reason, take some time to read up on the subject of reflected light! then practice noticing reflected light in real life, and painting it. in my experience, fleshing out reflected light is often what takes paintings to the next level.
i hope this is helpful! please try to remember that there is nothing to be embarrassed about when you paint : ) even if what you're doing looks silly to you, it's not a moral failure and doesn't make you a 'bad artist'—it means that your hand hasn't caught up to your eye yet and you're actively working on that. good luck painting!
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creepa-b0t-inc · 6 months
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EMERGENCY COMMISSIONS
i am poor and jobless so sknfkalhflshnklf ALSO I JUST UPDATED THE PRICES
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[image id: An image of @creepa-b0t-inc on tumblr's emergency commission sheet. All text is in the deltarune/undertale font. Each section end is marked with a white line connecting the white border that outlines the entire image. The background is transparent.
The first section reads "HI! I have built up the courage to open emergency COMMISIONS!!! I mainly work in Deltarune/Undertale style art. HERE ARE MY PRICES!!!! [It would be greatly preferred if you could provide any ideas or concepts for designs, because I am sadly not that good at design. I will try my best though!]" with a note off to the right side reading "!!! I SOMETIMES TAKE A LONG WHILE!!" and "!!BE PREPARED TO WAIT!!". All text is white, except for the 'HI!' which is yellow, and 'emergency' and the side note, which are in red.
The second section lists off examples and prices for commissions. The top left has white text stating "OVERWORLD SPRITES (next line) $20-$80 PER CHARACTER (next line) [depends on how many sprites you want]" with a side note in red that says "+$20 FOR ANIMATION". Below and to the side of this, there are 5 examples:
An image of Jockington from Deltarune from four different angles, front, left side, right side, and behind view.
An image of Starlight Glimmer from My Little Pony standing on her hind legs and curled around herself like a worm, covering her mouth with her hoof and smiling, looking at the viewer mockingly.
An image of a cockroach sitting on a bench reading a newspaper. it has a brown fedora and looks unimpressed.
An image of BIGSHOT.ex from Puredawns, with his left hand on his hip, smiling. He is wearing pink and black boots, black pants, and a pink suit top with a yellow tie. He has a purple and black cape and there are yellow rings around his wrists and knees.
A collection of 16 walking sprites of Noelle from Puredawns. She is wearing a long white hooded coat with icy blue accent marks, icy blue wings, and the hood down. Her color palette is much colder than usual.
The top right has white text stating "UNDERTALE STYLE BATTLE SPRITES (next line) $40-$100 PER CHARACTER (next line) [depends on how many sprites you want]" with a side note in red that says "+$20 FOR ANIMATION". Below and to the side of this, there are 4 examples:
An image of Exposition Guy made by Kevin Temmer Tunes holding a spoon in black and white.
An image of Spider Guy by Jaiden Animations in black in white, except for the pupil of its eyes which are red.
An image of Jaiden Animations in black and white. She is wearing a white hoodie with black accent marks and black sleeves.
A black and white image of an aimkid style dog character wearing socks, gloves, and armor with its left hand on its hip and its right hand holding a giant meat cleaver with a bumpy end, like a comb.
The bottom left has white text saying "DELTARUNE STYLE BATTLE SPRITES (next line) $40-$100 PER CHARACTER (next line) [depends on how many sprites you want]" with a side note in red that says "+$20 FOR ANIMATION". Below and to the side of this, there are 4 examples:
An image of Pibby from Learning with Pibby, a small light blue character with pink/light purple hair buns.
An image of a large sky-blue computer with a control panel and 2 rocket engines propelling itself into the air, along with two colder-blue speakers on the computer's left and right sides, also being propelled by their own respective rocket engines. The circle part of the speakers are alternative white and black circles and the computer screen is black except for a green outline of Queen from Deltarune.
An image of an angry looking robot character. it is a dull blue with light yellow accent marks and purple wires sticking out of its back. it's face is a pixelated red screen. It has thick, blue vent-hose like legs with 2 large blue, metal feet. They are accented with a caution pattern in light yellow.
A collection of 5 sprites of Night in the Woods characters-from left to right: Mae, Gregg, Bea, Angus, and Germ-all looking angry except for Germ and Mae. Mae is holding a baseball bat with two hands behind herself, Gregg is holding a crossbow with his right hand, Bea is smoking and holding a pickaxe with both hands, Angus has his hands on his hips, and Germ has his hands in his pockets with a possum on his head.
The bottom right has white text saying "DIALOGUE EXPRESSIONS (next line) $20-$60 PER CHARACTER (next line) [depends on how many sprites you want]". Below and to the side of this there are 4 examples:
A colored image of Flowey from Undertale's head.
A collection of 6 images of Rouxls Kaard from Deltarune's face, each expressing a different emotion. From left to right, the expressions go: smiling with teeth, open mouth smiling, open mouth smiling with wide eyes, smiling with teeth and wide eyes, smiling with teeth and winking, and smiling with teeth and both eyes closed.
A collection of 7 images of an ice cap (with sunglasses) from Undertale's face, each expressing a different emotion. From left to right, the expressions go: neutral with tired eyes, neutral with wide eyes, surprised, angry, maniacal laughing, evilly grinning, and nervous/looking off to the side, sweating.
A collection of 3 images, each containing a different expression portrayed by op's oc. the oc is a reddish-pink flower with a green stem and its petals behind its face with a loose strand, as if it is hair. The expressions portrayed, from left to right, go: smiling, smugly grinning, and angrily yelling.
The third sections begins with white text saying "DELTARUNE BATTLE MOCKUP (next line) $200 (next line) [This could take me a while to finish, so I'll only take on ONE of these at a time.]" Below this is two example images:
An image of a Deltarune-style battle scene with Night in the Woods characters. There is a red bar on the left side of the screen that has white text next to it vertically reading "TP 0%" and a menu with a text box on the bottom containing Mae and Gregg, Mae with 150/150 HP and Gregg with 170/170.Mae's icon is in light blue and Gregg's is in orange. It appears as if the user is selecting what to do with Mae's turn, hovering over the fight button. In the text box below, there is white text that reads "* The cultists strike back!". The fight setting is in a grassy area in front of a red, sunken furnace with bricks surrounding it. On the left towards the top, Mae is holding a baseball bat behind herself with both hands, and below her Gregg is holding a crossbow with his right hand, his left hand in front of him, looking angry. On the right, there are two identical looking cuktists in brown, hooded robes and boots holding shotguns.
An image of a Deltarune-style battle scene with Night in the Woods characters. There is a red bar on the left side of the screen that has white text next to it vertically reading "TP 0%" and a menu with a text box on the bottom containing Mae with 150/150 HP. It appears as if the user is selecting what to do with Mae's turn, hovering over the fight button. Mae's icon is light blue. In the text box below, there is text that reads "* CASEY awaits your first move." The text is shakey, and all white except for 'CASEY', which is blue with glitching text behind it. The fight setting is in a starry sky area, with the head of the Sky Cat watching Mae. On the left is Mae in a blue color pallette entirely except for her pupils, which are red. She is holding a baseball bat behind her with two hands. On the right is Casey, a shadowy cat figure whearing a long coat. He has glowing white eyes and facial features with a glowing blue outline.
The fourth section begins with red text that states "THINGS I WILL NOT DRAW:" with a lower opacity, larger 'NOT' behind the main text to create an echoey effect. Below this is a bulleted list in white text containing "NSFW, RACIST/BIGOTED THINGS, NFTS, (and) ANYTHING I DON'T WANT TO". Beneath this is a bit of text that says "SO, feel free to message me on either Tumblr or my Discord, @creepabotinc." with '@creepabotinc' in yellow text. /end id.]
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lucid-loves · 2 months
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Taste Like Venom ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 7
Pairing: Ghost x assassin!reader (fem!reader, no use of y/n, callsign “Hex”)
Word Count: 4.8k
CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, enemies to lovers trope, slow burn, fluff, clear attraction and sexual tension, smut later on, reader POV and ghost POV, minors dni, Soap lives in this AU
Let me know if I missed any CWs.
Story Synopsis: After Makarov gets away once again, Laswell decides to force a favor from you, the world’s greatest assassin and best-kept secret. You are now expected to help the 141 with taking down Makarov in addition to playing nice with them. It’s hard to play nice when you have always worked alone. It doesn’t help that one of the team members, Ghost, gets curious about you in each interaction. 
Chapter Synopsis: It’s time to tag the targets with trackers during breakfast service. You and Price make an unsettling discovery regarding the weapon shipment. Meanwhile, Ghost has been taking every opportunity to touch you and drive you nuts, making it hard to organize your feelings for him. The only way to get him to understand is to finally confess your feelings to him.
Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7 ~ Part 8 ~ Part 9 ~ Part 10
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The landscape across Europe flashed by as the train sped along the track. The hills and trees in the distance began to become brighter as the sun rose above the horizon. The countryside of Europe was gorgeous. Olive-green grass, rich orange and yellow trees, all over hills that rolled like waves. You’ve seen this scene before from one of your solo missions. You’ve forgotten just how beautiful it could be outside your cabin. 
As the sun began to rise higher in the sky, painting it with comfortable pinks and purples, train attendants began to open the dining car for breakfast as well as take orders for those that wanted to dine in their room. As passengers began to leave, Ghost, Price, and you sprung into action. Not before Ghost took your hand while Price wasn’t looking though. You turned wondering what he could possibly want at this moment. You didn’t have a lot of time before the train attendants would come back to deliver food to passengers. 
Simon just raised your hand to his mask, kissing it through the fabric. His eyes met yours, giving you a sincere look. Blonde strands of his already tousled hair fell towards his forehead as he looked down at you. His voice lowered to a whisper, not wanting anyone but you to hear his next words. “Be safe, kitten.” 
A harsh blush swept over your cheeks, your heart tripping over itself at the nickname. His sincere look turned mischievous as he noticed the red starting to take over your cheeks. You pulled your hand away harshly and turned back to catch up with Price. How dare he! Giving you a nickname like that all of a sudden! Was he trying to fucking kill you! 
For once, you were speechless. He really caught you off guard this time. And Simon reveled silently with this victory. The game clearly wasn’t over yet. 
Ghost headed towards the dining car, quickly spotting the target men up ahead heading in the same direction. You and Price went back towards the luggage car in the opposite direction. The observant captain noticed your blush and suddenly sour expression, but he didn’t bring it up. He just figured that you and his lieutenant were still going at it like an old, married couple. 
As quietly and slyly as you two could, you snuck into the luggage cart and closed the door behind you. You leaned against the side of the door, out of the way of the small window that allowed people to take a quick peek in. Standing as a lookout, you waited for John to find the weapons. That unfortunately meant going through a lot of suitcases. Hopefully, you two would get lucky and find it within the first few cases.
“Shit, all of these bags look the same.” The captain commented in frustration after opening a few suitcases. You looked over for a brief moment, scanning the massive piles of luggage for any hint of the targeted one. 
“Try to look for one with a sticker or a tag. Anything that would help the men make sure they don’t take the wrong bags by mistake.” You advised, your gaze falling back towards looking out the window once again. 
Price picked up the pace, looking through bag after bag before spotting a few pieces of luggage with the identical stickers. Urzikstan flag stickers. If the luggage was flagged and searched during the trip, the weapons would be assumed to come from there. The thought of Farah facing another trial of proving her and her people’s innocence made him simmer with rage. However, the mission must proceed.
“Found them.” He announced, quickly opening up the cases to place the trackers. What he saw inside, though, made him pause. He wasn’t looking at guns. Guns that he has grown familiar with over so many years of using them. Instead, he was looking at separate pieces. Ones that resembled hard plastic. Matte, dark gray, and void of any familiar markings to indicate their brand.
“What the hell am I look at?” He pondered out loud, catching your attention. After checking if the coast was clear, you came over and examined his findings. You picked up a couple pieces of the plastic, assembling them together in your mind like a puzzle. Your expression grew grim as you realized what they were.
“They’re gun parts to assemble ghost guns.” You deduced, having seen stories about this making their way through the news a while back. It was a good thing that you always kept up with the news, no matter where it was from or what it was about.
Price wasn’t following. He rarely had time to sit down and catch himself up on news stories. He relied on his base to update him on what was happening with the world. Stories were quick to change too as public interest switched all the time. Price was in the dark, and he shouldn’t be. “What the fuck is a ghost gun?”
You took the trackers from him and began tagging the inside of the luggage, feeling all the parts brush past your hand. The suitcase seemed bottomless with gun parts. “Ghost guns are guns assembled with gun parts, but the parts are untraceable and usually unnoticeable since the parts aren’t traditional parts. These are 3D printed parts. They can be made completely in the comfort of one’s own home. Some states are trying to crack down on the creation of these guns, but as you have probably guessed based on my earlier statement, they are incredibly hard to track down and trace back. It’s not exactly illegal to buy ghost gun kits too.”
John couldn’t believe that he missed this piece of essential news. He couldn’t believe that no one told him about it. It seemed like a huge problem to look out for that shouldn’t have been swept under the rug. He was pissed. “So in addition to using the catacombs, this is how Makarov has been moving weapons without getting caught. Fucking hell.”
“Try not to sweat it too much, John. This news piece didn’t last even a week. Besides, this problem has been deemed to be a police problem, not a military one. Cases of this have always been coming from civilian homes. Until now, that is. Yes, your government should have done something as soon as this seemed like an issue. They were negligent. But, that’s not on you.” You tried to explain. 
Price understood why you hated the military and government so much now. Before, he recognized that there were some problems that needed to be addressed within the system. There was a lot of red tape, a lot of traditions, and a lot of pressure. Still, he would defend it, proud to be serving a country that ultimately wanted to make the world more at peace. Now though, he couldn’t get past this neglect. This mistake that should have been nipped in the bud on a federal level. That combined with Shepherd being a traitor and getting away with it for so long, it made Price feel furious. Almost hopeless. 
They needed to take Makarov down and get back home as soon as possible. He needed to try to fix this mess.
Once the trackers were in place, John radioed his men back in the car. His voice was heavy with fury. “Test the trackers now.”
“Signal is coming through clearly, Captain. You sound rough, though. Everything okay?” Gaz respondes, concern clear in his tone. 
“We’ll explain the situation later.”
On Ghost’s end, he heard the brief conversation through his earpiece. The dining cart was pretty full considering that guests had the option to eat in their own roomette. The smell of fresh eggs, bacon, sausage, pasties, and coffee had his stomach rumbling. In order to stay inconspicuous, Gaz and Soap were ordered to reject any train staff that stopped by to provide them service. He was going to attempt to kill two birds with one stone here. Place the trackers on the men and order breakfast to their roomette once the tasks are done.
A waiter approached him, asking what he would like in Italian before realizing that English was needed. Simon told him that he was going to enjoy a fresh cup of tea in the dining cart, but the rest of breakfast would be sent back. As he relayed the large order that was sure to fill everyone’s stomachs, his eyes watched Makarov’s men sitting in a booth. They haven’t noticed him. In fact, they seemed completely wrapped up in their own conversation, laughing and smiling over hot coffee.
The waiter gestured for him to take any seat he wanted while he waited. Simon took the booth right behind his targets. He listened carefully, trying to pick out an opportunity to plant the trackers. A cup of black tea was delivered to his table along with a copy of the day’s newspaper. He didn’t ask for one, but everyone else that dined alone seemed to be reading one. 
The black tea was perfect, the flavor balanced perfectly between the tea leaves and hot water. Not too bitter, not too bland. Steeped to perfection. As much as he wanted to just relax and enjoy his cup, he had a job to do first. 
Ghost took small sips, timing his drinking with the men in front of him. He had to be patient for this, something he learned from you. When the waiter came back over to notify him that breakfast was on its way, Simon took his time finishing off his tea. Finally, the men stood up to leave, just now finishing their meal. That was his cue to finish the job.
Simon was swift, catching up to them and bumping in between them as if he was in a rush. During his passing, he did some sleight of hand, attaching the trackers right on the bottom back of their jackets. Hopefully, they won't notice it anytime soon. The men shouted at him, offended that he would push them to get through. He just turned slightly and gave quick apologies, keeping up with his appearance of being in a rush.
Once he gained enough distance, he spoke into his earpiece. “Heading back now. The trackers are planted.”
“Loud and clear, Lt. Those trackers are shining like a beacon on my screen. Good work.” Soap praised.
When Ghost entered the roomette once again, his eyes immediately met yours. You sat alone in your row. Price, Gaz, and Soap sat opposite of you. Price wore the same exact expression you wore. Heavy. Dark. He took the empty space next to you, preparing himself for the worst. “I take it that whatever happened in the luggage cart wasn’t great.”
Price looked at you and you looked at him, both wondering if the other wanted to be the one to break the news. Finally, Price spoke up, using his captain's voice to disguise his true feelings of anger. “We found the right luggage and tagged them with the trackers. However, inside were not standard weapons that we are used to. Inside the luggage were 3D printed gun parts. Ghost guns, as Hex identified. The parts were made using 3D printers, meaning that they can’t be traced, registered, or tracked. Not without extreme difficulty. The parts are useless on their own, but when put together, then they function as normal, deadly weapons. Just like real gun parts.”
“Wait, so there is no brand? No markings at all?” Soap questioned, trying to wrap his head around the concept. He was kept in the dark about this issue too. They all were. 
This time, you spoke up. “Completely clean. At a glance, they can actually look like toys. There are no serial numbers, no background checks, nothing. Makarov hasn’t just been buying his weapons. He’s been making them.”
Kyle took a shaky breath, the concept stunning him. Still, he wanted to take action. “Is there anything we can do about this? Besides killing Makarov?”
You shrugged, not really having a concrete answer for that question. “Confiscate the parts and present them as evidence to support stricter laws on them. That’s about all that can be done. This is a federal government problem. We should focus on ours in the meantime. There’s a lot on the line with each new discovery.”
The team went quiet, digesting the information. A knock on their door lightened the mood however, breakfast finally arriving. A cart with a white tablecloth over it presented a variety of choices. You waited for the men to serve themselves, watching them take heaping piles of eggs, breakfast meats, toast, and fruit. They needed a lot more food than you did. Still, they made sure to leave plenty left for you as well.
Simon watched you eat from the corner of his eye, wondering if you were able to have such a spread back home. You had mentioned how you ensured that your kitchen was stocked before back on the road trip. It still must’ve been difficult obtaining certain things on a regular basis. Eggs only lasted for so long. So did milk. 
A new instinct came over him. He felt the need to feed you. To ensure that you were able to eat all and any of the foods you wanted. Especially the kinds that you couldn’t have often. On the sly, he began sneaking more food onto your plate. A scoop of eggs here. A strip of bacon there. He refilled your juice as well. Only when his teammates weren’t paying attention. 
You, on the other hand, caught on quick as lightning. It wasn’t hard to notice how after you finished what was on your plate, another small pile would be sitting in its place. This was different from how he paid attention to you before. It felt like he was treating you like his girlfriend. It made your heart race and your stomach flip. You recalled how he called you “kitten” earlier too, the memory still making you feel like your cheeks would catch on fire with how warm they would get. 
It wasn’t helping you make sure that your feelings for him were kept in check. You had to start rejecting him. Starting with the food he kept trying to feed you.
When you finished your fruit, Simon began putting a few more pieces onto your plate. As soon as they slipped from his fork, you moved them back over to his plate instead. The large basket of pastries in front of you both blocked the view of the rest of the men, having no idea that you two were engaging in your own little food fight.
Ghost pulled up his mask and frowned behind it, giving you the hint that he was done eating. You gave him a look that said that you were done eating too. However, he ignored it and put the fruit back on your plate, gesturing for you to take a few more bites. In retaliation, you took up your plate to put it on top of his empty one. Simon glared at you, cursing your stubbornness in his mind. Slowly, he lifted the plate back up and set it down in front of you, not breaking his eye contact. 
Before you could push the plate away again, his hand landed on your thigh, giving it a squeeze. You yelped, jumping up in your seat. You knee hit the table, causing the items on top of it to clatter. Now, all eyes were on you. God, you wanted to ring his fucking neck.
You cleared your throat, cheeks starting to turn red from embarrassment. “Sorry, sudden cramp. I’m heading to the bathroom.”
Ghost was practically pushed out of the booth to make room for you to leave. Once you had enough space, you slipped by and left the roomette. Brows quirked at Simon, wondering what the hell that just was. He shrugged, pretending that he didn’t know what the problem was. “Beats me. I’m gonna go order some more tea for the table.”
In the small train bathroom, you splashed your face with cold water to cool down the blood rush. You could swear that you still felt the heat of his hand on your thigh. The pressure of his squeeze too. Was this what falling in love was like? Craziness? You felt like he was driving you mad. 
Trying to calm down, you took some deep breaths. The sound of the water rushing out of the faucet helped. Gave you something to focus on for a moment. 
That moment was gone as soon as you heard familiar, heavy footsteps outside the door. You cracked it open just a peek, just in time to see Ghost waltzing by without a care in the world. Without even thinking, you grabbed him by the back of his jacket and pulled him into the bathroom with you. The door was closed and locked behind you, hoping no one would come in to see why you were blowing up.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?! What the hell was that shit?!” You seethed through clenched teeth.
Ghost, getting over his momentary stun from being pulled, shook his head. “I didn’t think you would jump.”
You laid on the sarcasm thick. “Oh! You didn’t know that you grabbing my fucking thigh would make me jump. Hell, it’s not like my reflexes aim to kill anyone who suddenly grabs me. Your fucking bad, am I right, Simon?”
“Christ, I fucking get it! I’m sorry, okay, kitten?” He begrudgingly apologized, seeing just how upset you were about this. 
“And that’s the other fucking problem! Kitten?! Fucking, kitten?! Are you trying to fucking kill me? Are you trying to make me fucking kill you?! You said that we would take things slow!” You raved, your swearing out of control at this point. Somehow, Simon still found it strikingly sexy. 
“I am taking it slow.” He argued, taking a step closer to you, attempting to reach out to touch you like he wanted.
You scoffed and smacked his hand away. “You call that fucking slow? Simon, there is so much happening right now! You haven’t given me space to-”
Shit, you almost spilled the beans. You quickly shut your mouth, locking your lips tight with your secret. No way. No way in hell were you going to confess like that by accident. 
Ghost noticed how you cut yourself off, his curiosity about what you were going to say taking over his prerogative. What secret were you hiding from him now? “Finish that sentence.”
“Pass.” You simply said, backing up away from him, your body starting to go into a panic. The fact that you could see most of his face as clear as day wasn’t doing wonders for you either. You actually wanted to kiss him, run your fingers through his hair, and nibble on his lips. A shutter passed through you at the thought.
His movements were quick, knowing that if he wasn’t fast, you could potentially escape him. Stepping forward, he pinned you against the wall, an arm slipped behind your back with the hand touching your waist. The other hand took your wrists and pinned them above your head. His deep timbre voice nearly had your knees buckling. “That wasn’t a question. That was an order, kitten.”
You gave him a combative glare, refusing to break your stand on this. As you shook his head in refusal, his face inched closer. “Please, Hex. Don’t make me break my promise again.”
“I. . .” You hesitated. Was now really the best time to confess? Probably not. It was actually probably the worst time. The way he begged and threatened you for it, however, was hard to resist. Even if your morbid curiosity made you wonder just what he would do to you if you kept your mouth shut.
He gave you a moment, the warms of your skin seeping into his. Ghost just couldn’t seem to keep his hands off you, no matter how hard he tried. It was like he had become addicted to you. Your touch, your attention, your voice, everything. He couldn’t get enough.
Finally, you broke. You just couldn’t take the way Simon’s blue eyes drowned you for an answer. “You haven’t given me the space to sort out my feelings.”
“Feelings?” His grip loosened, allowing you to take your arms to cross over your chest, feeling protective of yourself. Your nails dug into your skin as anxiety began to hold you tight. You couldn’t take his wide-eyed shock either. 
To be fair, this was an answer that he didn’t expect to hear from you.
“Feelings.” He repeated, still hardly believing that that’s what you had said. His heart pounded in his chest. 
You pushed him back by his chest, creating more space. That made his stomach drop like a bowling ball as he stepped back. Simon watched you nervously rubbed your arms. You gave a nervous laugh. “Jesus, what am I? A fucking teenager?”
“Hex-” He tried to call out for you, wanting to provide some comfort to your anxiety. However, you cut him off.
“Stop. Let me speak, Simon. You drive me fucking nuts. You know how to push my buttons, get my fire going, get my blood boiling. And yet, I still find myself thinking about you even when I don’t want to. I want to push you away as far as I can and pull you close to me at the same time. I love and hate how you tease me, how you kissed me, how you wanted me.” You confessed earnestly, your words coming out like a storm. 
You’ve never confessed to anyone like this before. Not even in high school. Sure, you had small crushes here and there. You knew they would never go anywhere, though. You’ve always stomped them out before crushes turned into anything more. With Simon, it was different. It was like you were caught in barbed wire. You were tangled up in him. You loved it, yet you didn’t want your heart to get broken.
Feeling physical attraction wasn’t the same as emotional attraction. 
“Simon, I’m afraid that I’m falling for you. I can’t have you breaking my heart. So, you need to tell me now if this is just a fling for you. Tell me that you don’t feel anything but physical attraction. That once our mission is over, you will go back to your world. I will go back to mine. We will never see each other again.” Your voice cracked as you steeled yourself for rejection. 
The words broke Ghost’s heart. All this time, you believed that he was just toying with you. Just like you, however, he was both trying to get closer and keep just enough distance so you wouldn’t break his heart. As much as you two fought, you two were so much alike. From this new perspective that Simon has discovered, he was able to really understand you. God damn it, why didn’t he realize this sooner? He already fell for you. Hard. The way he wants to treat you, the way he wants to touch you, the way he never wants to say goodbye wasn’t something he would do with just a fling. It was something he would do with a lover. 
“Hex. . . I can’t say any of those things.” He began taking small steps to approach you again. Simon could hear his heartbeat in his ears. It’s been forever since he’s fallen for someone. His previous love was nothing compared to how he felt about you. There was a gut feeling he had that you were a keeper. 
Your mind protested his advance, still trying to preserve your feelings. Your heart, on the other hand, went wild. In the end, it was the heart that won. His hands cupped your cheeks, gaining your line of sight once again. “It’s okay, Hex. I got ahead of myself. I started treating you how I wanted you before telling you. All out of order.”
You waited for him to say more, holding your breath as you did so. Was this really what you thought it was? No way this could be real. Just a few weeks ago, you were alone in the world. No one but Kate on the rare occasion. The plan was to stay alone, do solo missions here and there if Kate needed it, and die alone. Simon put a wrench in all of it.
“I’ve fallen for you, Hex. Probably did when I first saw you. You’re not alone anymore.” He reassured. At the same time, he was telling himself those words. He wasn’t alone anymore. He had you now.
While his own confession made you want to dance with joy, you still felt a pain in your chest. There was something that you couldn’t ignore. “That’s great and all, but what happens when I have to return to my world? Being unknown? I don’t exist. I can’t just return to the land of the living like I’ve been there the whole time. I-”
He stopped your rambling with a kiss. A deep, passionate, slow one that made your brain have an error. You didn’t even notice him pulling down his face mask before with how rampant your head ran. When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead to yours. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, just be mine, okay?”
You released a deep sigh as you nodded in agreement. You could hardly believe it. Simon had fallen for you. You had fallen for him. No wonder he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. “Fine. Just. . . easy with the touching and the nickname, yeah? I about damn near lost my fucking mind.”
He chuckled, pulling his mask back up. “Can’t make any promises about that, kitten. I’ll try to stay patient with taking the touching further than previously agreed on. You’ve probably noticed, though, that you also drive me crazy.”
Returning to your usual self, you scoffed and smirked. “Keep it in your pants, Simon. I can’t help that I’m irresistible apparently.”
“You keep it in your pants. I know you want to touch me too.” He argued teasingly, taking your hands and putting them on this muscular chest. Once they were placed, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close. It felt like your hands were on fire as they made contact with his chest. The chest that you have been wanting to put your hands on since seeing it bare the other night. He could feel the fire from your touch too.
“Simon.” You warned, your tone having some bite to it. However, he was used to your venom by now. He was growing immune. Now, your threatening tone just made him feel aroused. 
He gave a low laugh at your glare, hugging you tighter and trying to ignore the growing tightness of his pants. You really got him going in the smallest of ways. “Relax, Hex. Just a hug.”
“You’re getting hard!” You pointed out, feeling his erection press against you. As much as you protested his arousal, you would be lying if you weren’t feeling it too. Just feeling him pressed against you had your skin tingling and your sex getting wet. 
Finally, he let you go, your skin already feeling cold once he pulled away. You could see his eyes smiling, feeling quite proud of himself instead of embarrassed. Rolling your eyes, you pushed past him in order to leave the bathroom. “You’re fucking impossible, you know that?”
He followed you out. Thankfully, no one has been waiting to use the bathroom right outside. His tone was still low and sensual as he retorted. “You love it.” 
There was still some time before arrival. Even more time before the mission would be over. Fuck, how were you going to resist Ghost’s antics now?
-
Taglist:
@eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @dory-98 @cum-tea-and-towels @completelymarveltrash @watersquirtpewpewboomm @thychuvaluswife @sweetheart-im-the-boss @anotherrickinthewall @bluewinter39 @fortunatelydecadentstudent @transparentsheepsheep @rhaenryawhore @randomlyblues @issssawrap @lachimolalaa3 @callsign-pyro @corruptcrybaby @kdadss @lexuria @dookiedanish @horagamu @bitchvxbes @aldis-nuts
181 notes · View notes
littleroaes · 5 months
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Enchanted ( to meet you ), l.jy
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‘ Y/n practices to confess to her friend she has crossed path with once again the day before the match. But she finds him teared at the edges in the downpour. Will she mend their heavy hearts? ’
PAIRING ⏵ lee juyeon x fem!reader
GENRE ⏵ fluff, friends to lovers, one sided pining (in context of 2k words), sappy / soft angst, happy ending, college!au, (american) football player!juyeon, hurt/ comfort ( literally ), treating juyeon's wounds, juyeon needs a hug
WARNINGS ⏵ none major, juyeon has small bruises, they kiss, im not american or know anything about the highs and lows of highschool football american football more than people look good in the uniform, proofread once
WORD COUNT ⏵ 2.8 k
AUTHOR'S NOTE ⏵ a short one-shot I worked on back when I wrote on boys in cats clothing part 1! I've been working on my hyunjae fic, but since its a longer project, I decided to finish this one! It's a shorter one since I will be working on my sunwoo fic for december! ( also feels like a crime to not write at least one fic about christmassy juyeon as the juyeon enthusiast I am )
like and reblog are highly encouraged if you enjoyed!
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HER REFLECTION IN THE RECTANGULAR MIRROR AT THE CENTER OF THE SUN VISOR.
Y/n force it up once the last streak of color line itself beneath her eyes. As she opens the car door to step out over the concrete with rain in between the cracks, a wind from west forces the last centimeters of the door open and her navy shirt in nylon lets every part of the cold weather collide with her skin. Y/n quickly locks the door behind her and opens the backseat. At the center of the two seats lies a cardboard sign with letters. She takes it out and holds it close to her chest so as to not let the weather grasp it from her. 
Away from the parking lot, cornered in white lines, stands a barricade seven times taller than herself. And when she comes to the side of it, where the stairs lead the way up to the highest rows, she sees the green field and yellow constructions. How the color of the red running track encapsulates the green mit contrasts the heavy sky and its dull complexion. 
Another wind dares to take the sign with it and her hair tied in ribbons flies before her eyes. Y/n lowers the sign to her hip and walks with eyes barely open to the bleachers. Well up on the second row, Y/n spends the next forty minutes pacing up and down the seven rows. The wind threatens to bend the sides of her board as she angles it over the field. At last, at the highest seat on the bleachers where one stands over the field and its entirety without detail, Y/n sits down for a last time. Her arms are weak from having them in the air, and her makeup has started to smudge at its sides and her hair beautifully wrapped in silk ribbon, has fallen onto her back and shoulder.
As the highest row is covered by an extended edge, she watches how the rain washes away fallen leaves across the concrete. And she thinks of her worries in that way as she falls all the deeper into the plastic seat. 
Her handwritten words on the cardboard sign has been on her mind. Between the seasons and years, she has been whispering the words under the moonlight and hoping that they will cause an effect on the real world, outside her dreams. Juyeon has been a present part of her life since the day in middle school, where they got to be seatmates for a single autumn. They played word games together and drew the appearances of characters they’ve just read in books. But on a Wednesday morning when a new name stod written on her desk, they hardly ever exchanged words again. But even then, his name would cross her mind when life wasn’t about time, and one can stand before the window without worries for tomorrow. But as she has navigated the beginning of her young adult life, they have once again crossed paths. 
Y/n sees two leaves follow the tides of the stream down the drain, and how the two meet as the water falls down. At the city cinema, they work the same shifts. Spend time talking when no one’s at the register and fall asleep in the break room. It all decorates her home ceiling above her bed in cosmic constellations. 
Tomorrow, in less than twenty four hours, the empty rain soaked seats will be filled with people from the city as they watch the same grass field she’s before. Y/n plays the video film from her mind over the scenery. As if the action of imagining it will somehow affect real life and control its events. 
And as she sits with her cardboard sign and navy shirt darker than before, she sees a single silhouette walk towards the green field. Walking in from the entrance at the other diagonal from where Y/n was, she sees him in sports uniform and a ball in the other hand. And despite the distance, she just needs him to step one foot over the grass to recognize him. His distinct steps and contrasting silhouette takes her out of her own world. Y/n looks around the rows of plastic seats around her. And as Juyeon near the middle of the field, Y/n bends down behind the sixth row, let the backrest cover her hair and force the sign to the ground. While at eye length with the concrete, she sees how the rainwater soaks and spreads through the end corners of her sign. 
When her socks have become wet and turn cold against her skin, Y/n dares to peak over the red plastic. The edges cover corners of the playing field, and Juyeon disappears behind them as time passes. 
Minutes pass them by, and the gray clouds won’t seem to take drift. Instead, she sees how the wind catches the edges of Juyeon’s shirt even stronger than before. At this point, he stands clearly in her sight. At the very center of her vision, he aligns between the two plastic seats before her. Juyeon stands in one spot with his hands on his thighs. The strands of his fringe fall forward as his head faces the ground and the rain continues pouring down on him. The sight is rather bleak. He stands in perfect emotion towards the weather above them, she thinks. Then, Juyeon slowly falls down. Sitting down with his arms resting on his knees. Juyeon’s face is hidden in the empty space created by his arms. 
Somehow, his presence in this form falls heavier on her than the downpour. As the sight seeps into the creaks in her heart, Y/n stands up from her row. She holds the sign in her left hand, yellow letters smudged from the very center out to the sharp edges, similar to the paint on her cheeks. 
Y/n slowly walks down the bleachers, so as to not fall. Her shoes shatter the puddles as she tread down until the very last platform. As Y/n takes her first step onto the grass field, she feels the water in the high grass seep into the thin fabric of her sneakers. She comes all the closer to him on the field, all for the bleachers to see. 
Juyeon stares at the grass beneath him, arms covering whatever scenery before him. His hands have gone numb from the cold and the clothes tight against his skin makes it red and itchy. Though, as he feels the cold rain seep through the open clothing, it suddenly stops. As if to see where the clouds have gone. Juyeon takes his head up from his embrace and sees a dark colored board much closer than  the sky. As the hand holding the sign leads his eyes to another silhouette. Juyeon holds his head high as Y/n holds the sign over his essence. The rain continues to pour down on her as she lets it wash away every last bit of color off her board. 
“Are you okay?” Y/n asks when Juyeon silently watches her. 
The moment words wash over the quiet space between them, Juyeon takes his eyes off her and lets his chin fall back down onto his arms, “Yeah, it’s okay. I’m just resting.” 
“Why are you here, even?” His words come out muffled. 
Another wind passes the sportsfield, locks itself into her hair strands. Y/n doesn’t say anything for a while before she sits down, “I was just practicing for something.” 
The place beside Juyeon is colder than the weather above them. She leaves a distance between the two where the rain is free to fall. When in all truth, Y/n would’ve closed it. Her arms start to hurt as she continues to hold the sign over their heads. 
“I’m nervous.” Y/n admits suddenly, in which Juyeon answers; 
“Me too.” 
Once again, silence. 
“For tomorrow?” She looks at him. His chin still lies on his arms as he nods. 
Y/n bites her lip as she can’t seem to lift the heavy weight off their hearts. She wants to say something so that the sun would reveal itself and dry its tears, but another cloud comes to flood the parts of the world who haven’t felt it. When she looks at him again, a point underneath her collarbone turns with ache, her fingers grip the cardboard all the tighter, so it withers at the edges. Y/n licks her lips and it feels cold. Suddenly, she’s afraid that it will soon taste of salt. 
“You’re really cold, Juyeon.” He looks at her to see her eyes examine his features below his own. 
“Your lips are blue.” She continues. Juyeon doesn’t give any answer back, instead sits in the same position as when she first came to find him. As another wind passes through the gaps between the grass, Y/n sits up. He looks up towards her figure as the gray sky with its textures works as a background. Though, Y/n stays in that place, before the weather and looks down on him. The cardboard is over them both as she holds it and before any words leave his mouth, Y/n reaches her hand down towards him. 
“I have my car." "You're cold.” 
The entire world is in motion as the wind forces between each space. But the two of them, in the center of the world, stand in complete serenity. When Juyeon looks up at her with eyes without glisten and hair strands wet of rain, she desperately spreads her fingers a bit wider as if to reach him. 
“Please, Juyeon.” The words can only be heard under the rectangular space where rain doesn’t reach. And finally, Juyeon extends out his hand. Y/n feels a cold sensation grow from where he touches her, before spreading out over her lower arm. His hand is slightly red and his knuckles an even deeper shade as it falls down to his nails and mixes with rain water. 
When their fingers intertwine, Juyeon lays his other hand onto the grass behind him. One from above forces the other up, and he pushes his weight off the ground. As they stand before one another, Juyeon once again is about to reach the ground. His knees bend when Y/n grabs onto his upper arms and forces him closer to her. 
“Are you okay?” Y/n asks his arm comes over her shoulder and Y/n’s under his own. He only hisses as his left feet touch the grass to bear off some weight again. 
“Let’s go to the car.” She says worriedly. 
And when they cross the field, out of the center, the weather refuses to let down. Y/n has given up on the board and lets it hang by her side as she forces Juyeon up. When they finally reach her car, Juyeon’s voice is low and his breath warms her left side. Y/n desperately fiddles with the car handle before the backseat stands open, and Juyeon sits down. His head rests against the black leather and his hair leaves off a darker spot when he tilts it to the other side. 
Y/n closes the door before running forward to the driverseat where she turns the car on and drives heat up to the highest. To look behind her seat, she sees his sunken silhouette once again. Covered in exhaustion as he has his eyes closed. 
A part of heart feels colder than her hands out in the rain. It becomes stronger as she sees him breathe heavily in her backseat. Juyeon can only listen as Y/n walks out of the car once again and opens the tailgate. At the point where he takes some power to open his own eyes, Y/n comes through the opposite side of him. In her hands is a navy blanket with white patterns, a green box with rounded edges. 
“I need to treat your bruises.” She stops at the seat and closes the door behind her, “I’m gonna have to touch you.” 
She somehow feels impatient as she looks at his figure in the corner of her car. She catches how the blood has formed patterns over his fingers and he finally nods. 
“It’s okay.” 
Y/n sits without motion for a second, before she comes closer to his side. Their legs touch as she lies the blanket in between the car seat and herself and opens the kit in her lap. Her hand reaches for his own and Juyeon looks down where their bodies intertwine. A green sealed package Y/n rips open, reveals a wet white fabric that she folds out. Carefully she brings the piece to his hands and starts gently rubbing the spots between his knuckles. He hisses slightly. 
After wrapping his hands in bandages, she moves down to his leg. Y/n force the white fabric up. As she has taken off his shoes, she wraps it in thicker fabric. When she comes up, they’re at eye length again. Y/n observes his face, her expression with no clear emotion. Juyeon senses the distance she takes from him, even when the warmth of her leg spreads to his own. 
As she looks at his features, she sees the details come back to paint his face. His eyes glisten slightly and the slight lilac tint on his lips has faded, as if it was never there. Her heart that was cold and tired of running, slows down in beats and feels a sort of relief reach her outer corners. 
At last, Y/n reaches forward, to close the little distance left between them. The blanket in her hands as she lets the fabric fall over his shoulders. Her arms come to close around his neck as she secure the blanket around him. As she slowly lets go off the corners of the navy fabric, she feels his cold hands on her waist. Y/n already sits with a higher posture, as to reach over his figure, therefore, the humid sensation of his close breath around her neck becomes all the clearer. 
“Don’t let go.” He says weakly.  
A sensation in her chest makes her even wearier of the rain that plummets towards her windows and he fully rests his head on her shoulder. 
“Okay.” Y/n says quietly and lets her arms slowly fall in a rigid manner. 
After some seconds, the water of his shirt has spread across the blanket. And Y/n slowly lifts her hands off her side to return to the point behind his neck. As Juyeon only pulls her closer and further down the seat, her arms close around him fully and they let the other’s breath enclose, to melt the cold over their frozen fragments. 
Though, the thoughts change like tidal waves in her mind and Y/n slowly moves up, “Juyeon, the blanket will become even wetter.” 
“I don’t care.” His voice is wrapped in silk and he looks up from his spot in the backseat with eyes moon made, “I just want us.” 
And how the world tilted on its axis stops once again. How the cold sensations of the weather fades from her mind as her heart pulsates in a tight space. 
And when he looks at her so softly, as to picture every detail to recreate, Y/n smiles just slightly. As she nods her head, to tell him she's received his every word. Juyeon smiles and it feels as if it’s the first time. Only the rain dares to make itself heard when they sit in the car. She destroys and deconstructs the sentence in her head and opens her mouth to speak. But nothing utters when Juyeon takes his hand up to her face. His hands are still cold and contrast to the warmth of her cheek. The sun might as well have gone down to the end line of the earth, when he asks her; 
“Can I kiss you?” 
She grabs his shoulder a little tighter before answering, “Yes, yes you can.” 
Finally, he forces her back a centimeter further down to let his lips touch hers. The sensation of cold clothes and water dripping from the ends of their hair fade from their minds. Instead, it replaces lovely stars connected in white lining. The last letter on her sign, falls its last yellow streak as one tilts their head to whisper in between the kiss. 
“I love you.” 
198 notes · View notes
ecriter · 1 year
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Make the Bond - Pt. 1
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Summary: Unexpectedly, your life is flipped upside down when a waterlogged stranger washes ashore in your village. Hostile, nasty, and unable to speak the language, he makes for a headache of a combo. But something inside tells you not to give up on him, that he's capable of learning and change. But how are you supposed to trust this yellow-eyed stranger when you suspect there's more to him than he's letting on? Not to mention the rumors of a dangerous avatar on the loose....
A/N: Link to the ao3 version here. 
Part one of ? Part Two  Part Three
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At first, you had thought you’d made a really good catch.
It was the last toss of a very long day and your basket was frustratingly empty. The fibers of the net had rubbed your hands to an irritated red and your shoulders were aching from fatigue. Your fishing abilities were not one of the finer things about yourself. Many of your days were spent in the corals of the shallows, plucking stones smoothed from decades of the ocean tide to weave into jewelry or languishing in tide pools warmed from the sun. You'd matured in the clan, and had passed the tests required of young Metkayina to reach adulthood, and yet you felt a certain displacement in your village. Your father, Olo'eyktan of your settlement, was often troubled by this. Though you weren't in line to inherit titles and responsibilities (those would fall to your eldest brother), a certain measure of appearances still needed to be kept. And having an aloof youngest daughter didn't help. So, in line with the duties of a daughter, you were often sent to do tasks away from the village. Like fishing.
In the sky, the sun kissed the edge of Polyphemus, a signal that your time in the shallows was ending. At eclipse, you’d return to the village with your measly basket of nothing, face the embarrassment of being unable to catch much of anything, and retire to your pod for the night. If you were lucky and vigilance was low that evening, the opportunity could present itself to slip away and spend some time alone in the reef, exploring.
The net in your hands seemed impossibly heavy as you pulled it from the lapping tides and gathered it around your wrists. One last toss and you’d be done, could officially declare that you’d tried your very best and expended maximum effort to contribute to the clan. Squinting out into the water, you searched for a break in the waves, an indication that a school of fish may have broken into the shallows, but it all looked the same. Damn. Going off of a prayer.
Taking a deep breath, you adjusted the rope, reeling your arms back, back, back, and – there! A flash of deep blue broke the water and the net was out of your hands in an instant. It arched through the air, blooming into a wide birth that settled across the surface of the water. Yanking the cord wrapped around your wrist, the net puckered around its catch and tugged through the currents back toward you. The weight felt disproportionately heavy than what you were used to and you swore you saw a flash of green that you couldn’t remember belonging to any marine life you were familiar with. Still, a catch was a catch, and it was one more than you thought you would be going home with.
The net crested one last wave and beached the sand, propelled by the momentum of the tide.
This is way too big to be a fish, was your first thought.
Holy shit, that’s a person, was your second.
You lunged for the net and whatever you’d pulled to shore, ripping away fibers and seaweed. A man buried beneath the mess was pale, clammy, and certainly dead. Your net had caught his left arm, which is why it had felt so slow. His eyes were closed and when you pressed your fingers to his parted mouth, you felt no breath pass. That wasn’t great. Definitely not ideal. Panicked, you sought out a pulse beneath the thick cord of the strange man’s neck, prodding up to just underneath his jaw. Soft, pliant skin gave way and there you felt it, the weak shutter of a heartbeat.
“Thank Eywa,” you gasped, rocking back onto your heels. Dealing with an alive stranger was far easier than figuring out the identity of a dead one, particularly one that didn’t look to be from the ocean. This man had darker skin than that of your clan, a slender tail that tapered into a tuft of hair, and – oh. Five fingers.
Snatching at the man’s limp hand, you pressed your thumb to the soft palm, forcing the fingers to spread. You counted them once, twice, feeling a spike of nerves. There were definitely five fingers, an extra little appendage that curled at the end of his hand. Your tail lashed at the sand and a pit of anxiety sunk to the bottom of your stomach. Though your clan was located far from the forests where the Sky People had first settled, you had heard stories. Most clans knew the battle of Pandora, the call of Toruk Makto, the devastation wreaked upon the Omatikaya people. Dreamwalkers had five fingers, demons, and the fact one had washed onto your shores couldn't bode well.
But the stranger that laid before you seemed so weak and harmless. His breath wheezed from tired lungs and welts oozing thick red blood dribbled from blue skin. Honestly, it was a pitiful sight. You'd never been one to leave someone in need anyways and, regardless of his allegiance, Eywa had brought him to your shores and washed his body quite literally to your feet. There was a message somewhere in there, and it wasn’t to leave him for dead.
“Please wake up soon because I can’t carry you all by myself. It’s either that or I leave you here for a few hours and I’m not convinced you won’t die on me.”
Removing your knife from the sheath around your thigh, you sawed at the net coiled around his bicep until it fell away into the sand. Bruising was beginning to develop there and you would have felt a twinge of guilt if that wasn't the least of your problems. The man shifted whenever the blade glanced his skin but was otherwise unresponsive.
“Hey,” you tapped his cheek lightly with your fingers. “Wake up. I really don’t want to have to drag you through all this sand. Help me out here.”
When you became more insistent, jerking the stranger’s shoulder and pressing on his sternum to release any water that may have been brewing in his stomach or lungs, he finally jerked to the side and vomited. Dregs of seawater seemed to be the only thing in his stomach and he retched a few more times before collapsing back into the sand. His eyes roved listlessly over the darkening sky. Golden eyes, you noted. Like the forest clan. Your uneasiness deepened.
With hesitant fingers, you reached out and prodded his shoulder.
“Are you ok?" You asked.
The man didn't seem to hear you. His eyes slid closed, ears folding back against his head. It looked like he was sliding back into unconsciousness, slackening, and if he did that there was no way you'd be able to get him back to the village alone.
"Hey, hey!" You patted his cheek with your hand, drawing his half-lidded eyes back open. His head lolled to the side. "Please don't fall back asleep. We need to get you up, over there."
You pointed out across the water to where your village lay among the mangrove roots, coming alive with the glow of evening fires. It was only a few paces away, but it would be a long haul if you were pulling this man's waterlogged body. The man inclined his head towards your village, following your finger. In a moment, his ears were flat against his head, eyes dilated in alarm. He began to drag himself away from you, away from the village, and back into the water. His tail whipped behind him and soon the spray of the waves was choking him again.
"What are you doing?" You cried out, jumping on the man and pulling up back out of the water by his armpits. "You're going to kill yourself if you get back in the water. You can't swim in this condition!"
The man sputtered and gasped, kicking his feet in a weak attempt to fight your struggling grip. When you were a good distance away from the water, you dropped him into the sand. Crouching over him, you pressed a hand to the flat of his chest, feeling the acceleration of his heart, the gasping of his breath.
"Calm yourself," You urged. "My people won't bring you harm." You hoped.
The words didn't seem to settle the stranger in the slightest. His eyes whipped from the village to your face, to the water. He was like an animal pressed into a corner, desperate for escape. You pressed into his chest harder, forcing him into slower, deeper breaths. This seemed to bring some level of reason back over him. His fingers curled around your wrist, that extra little finger brushing your palm.
"Wermai?" He said, squeezing your wrist. "Tsengpe, Where?"
Your ears flicked forward in surprise, understanding the admittedly poor Na'vi.
"Where? My village, my home. There," You gestured again to the village bathed in orange and blue hues light.
The man shook his head violently, tugging you down so your faces were close. You could smell the salt on his skin but also the sour scent of fear.
"Toruk Makto. Where?"
The man pointed out towards your village, jabbing his finger again and again to convey his point. The only words it seemed he could manage were Toruk Makto and where? But Toruk Makto was in the forest, had never been to your side of the ocean. In fact, he had disappeared years ago like a breath stolen by the wind.
"Toruk Makto is not here," You tried to explain. "He is from the forest clans. Out there," You pointed across the ocean, then shook your head. "Not here."
The stranger seemed to understand. The rigid lethality of his panic melted away and his head fell back against the sand. His adrenaline was melting away too, disappearing into the lapping tide, and was replaced by something milder and calmer. You could tell he wasn't falling back into the throes of unconsciousness, but the toll of his survival was certainly catching back up with him. He would need to see your mother, if not for the energy he expended fighting for his survival, but for the deep wounds that still oozed blood. You tapped your fingers to the stranger's wet brow and his eyes slid open.
"You must come with me. I can get you food and sleep."
Your fingers curled in a come here motion, beckoning him to rise to his feet. At first, he seemed hesitant, weighing his options. You knew he could not survive in the jungle beyond the ocean. He had no weapons upon him, no way to navigate the unfamiliar terrain, and he looked as if a harsh wind would blow him over. Considering all of this, he reluctantly obeyed, somewhat to your surprise, and leaned heavily against your shoulder for support. Another problem began to present itself. This man was huge, even for a Na'vi, and you weren't sure how long your smaller frame could support his bulk. You hoped you could manage all the way to the village, or at least close enough to signal for some help. You also noticed the strange way the man was dressed, green shirt tucked into oddly printed pants. It all only confirmed your suspicions of this man's allegiance with the sky people. But you had already pulled him to his feet, communicated with him, and you couldn't, wouldn't, turn your back on him now. Shifting your arm underneath his ribcage, bracing him against your shoulder for support, you set off towards the cluster of pods in the distance.
"You're going to need to help me a bit here," You grunted, taking one slow step in front of the other. You tried to stick closer to the sea, where the sand would have less give, but the man's incredible weight still sunk you into the ground a considerable few inches. The man grumbled something in his native tongue and the drag of his feet lessened, lightening your load. You fought off a grin.
As you approached the village, clan members that had been relaxing on the lip of the walkways directed their attention to you and the stranger you towed along. Their faces reflected the alarm you had felt when realizing this was not one of your own Metkayina people, but someone from the forest. Then, a second realization passed across their faces. Not from the forest, but from the sky people. Cascades of whooping flittered through the village, drawing more of your clan from their pods. Mothers drew their children close as you and the man worked your way across the walkway, toward the Tsahik's tent. No one made a move to help you, to touch the stranger. It was as if he was sickly and even an inclination towards him would infect the others.
The man seemed to recognize the growing hostility from your people. His ears angled towards the whispers that had broken out, then angling backward in distress. His yellow eyes had sharpened but he kept them down, watching his footfalls to ensure he didn't step wrong. You squeezed the man's forearm, trying to offer some meager assurance. His eyes turned to you, but his face gave away nothing. You couldn't say you were feeling much better.
Your mother was at the entrance of the tent when you arrived, but it seemed as if word hadn't yet reached your father.
"Mama, I see you," You greeted, bowing your head as best as you could manage.
Your mother said nothing and instead hurried to help the man off your shoulders and into the privacy of your tent. Even from its protection, you could see the crowd that had gathered along the outskirts of the walkway. You helped the man lay on a bedroll and only noticed the sticky blood on your hands when you withdrew them. Your mother said nothing to you nor the man as she turned him on his side and observed the slashes across the breadth of his back, the source of the blood.
"I will need coral weed and salt flower," directed your mother. "and juice from a paya fruit." When you hesitated, unsure of leaving the man alone, your mother snapped her hard gaze at you. "Now."
You gathered everything as fast as you could. Helping your mother as Tsahik had given you a good idea of the healing properties of the sea's plants, but your scattered mind and shaking hands meant you'd grabbed toro petals instead of salt flower and larvo juice instead of paya fruit. When you returned back to the tent, your mother had already stripped the man of his upper garment and washed the blood away from the wound. You handed her the salt flower, which she smeared across the largest cuts on the man's back. She paid no heed to his hissing and spitting at the sting, layering coral weed across the wound to help congeal anything else that might leak from it.
"Will he be alright?" You asked quietly, crouched down beside the stranger's head. His eyes had fallen closed and you would have thought he was sleeping if not for his heaving chest and shoulders.
"He will be fine. His energy is low and he will need much rest, food, and water."
She broke open the paya fruit, squeezing its pulp into a wooden bowl. The man's nostrils flared at the scent and when your mother placed the bowl in front of him, he slurped it hungrily, juices running down his chin. Your mother did not look at you as she tended to him, but now she turned to you, lips pressed into a thin line.
"Where did you find this man?"
"Out when I was fishing. He got caught in my net and I pulled him in and I thought he was -"
"Do you have any idea who this man belongs to? Where he has come from?"
Your ears pressed back at the hiss in your mother's tone.
"He was so weak, Mama, he would have died if I-"
"He should have died," She toned lowly. "He is of the sky people, that is certain. Where they go, trouble is sure to follow. What enemies do we invite by having him here? You have endangered yourself and the village by bringing him."
Your mother inhaled deeply, cupping her hands over her mouth and blowing out the rest of her anger. "I must speak with your father. You are to stay here with him and any actions he takes are your responsibility,"
The Tsahik rose from the floor and stepped out of the tent, disappearing into the crowd. You could feel the oncoming rush of tears, the familiar burn in your nose, and turned from the tent's entrance. The man's eyes were open again and he was staring at you with an unreadable expression on his face. Ignoring him, you took the empty wooden bowl and refilled it with more paya juice, handing it back to him. He did not drink immediately, eyes still passing over your face. "Please don't cause any more trouble. I risked a lot bringing you here. More than you're worth, I imagine." You crossed your arms over your knees, resting your chin on your elbows.
The man's eyes followed the movement of your mouth, trying to decipher your words. It seemed he recognized a few because his ear flicked and his expression deepened before he drank from the bowl again. When he finished, you took it and set it aside. The stranger reclined deeper into the mat, wincing at his wounds. You could sense the drowsiness pulling on him and figured it would be easier to deal with a sleeping man than one that was awake and demanding questions in a foreign tongue. When his breath evened out, you allowed yourself to wonder what the hell you had gotten yourself into.
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creamiesstoryconer · 3 months
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Yandere Harpy x Reader Taster
Yander Harpy x Reader Taster 
Word count: 666
Length of time to read: 5-8 minutes
This is a taster for a OC x Reader story I am working on, it currently has about 4 chapters planned and I am hoping to release every other day :) This is a taster I am posting for the first chapter enjoy 
TW:Mention of blood
Nature's natural lace, web, clinging onto the remains of the early morning dew. The clear pearls that drape themselves over finely pulled strings that are nestled in the sea of blue and green. Catching glimmers of sun as it breaks through the dense canopy, its golden light a welcoming glow to the undergrowth.
Fine petals of muted blues, reaching for its limited life line of light. Moments of silence such as now, rare within the small thicket. The gentle pushing of the wind picking up stray leaves, dancing with the yellowing trinkets in the air to be carried into the distance. 
Under your foot, grass that once stood tall crunches, its brothers in arms gently grazing your ankle. Early morning air crisp as always, nips at one's shoulders and nose, beckoning the solemnly sweet wind to join it in its conquest of stealing the heat from any warm body.
Knuckles tightly grasped around brown wicker, a basket neatly woven by hand. Packed sunngly with vibrant colours, forged from the long negated trail. 
Damp penetrates your nose, the untones of pine. Forcing the almost suffocating scent to almost have a refreshing taste upon your tongue. 
Onward,deeper into nature's land of peace, the hum of the village morning grows mute. Replaced with the rustling of leaves calling for you. Singing of birds just from sight, soothing and lulling.
Just a little deeper down the overgrown path you know so well, a routine experience every spring. To bring an offering, to wish for peace to the Earth, to keep a titration you grew bored of. The ways of the old and their tales are nothing but fables for children to be afraid of. 
Feet grew stiff at the edge of the opening, the woods breaking its dense canopy of greens to allow for the flooding of gold. Warm upon the skin, stark contrast to the morning wind, the honey coloured light swallows the clearing in its entirety. 
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A blur and a impact, 
The coarse texture of dried bark entangled in once soft locks of hair. Throbbing, building a deafening silence is what over stimulates the nerves. Soothing warmth trickling down your neck, tracing itself past your crook. Allowing for a bud of red to flow and root itself onto once pristine white clothing. Now defiled with browns and quickly darkening crimsons. 
The rising of your chest like hard labour, air having been stolen from your lungs. Hoarse gasps replace a steady rhythm that was once there. Drying your mouth as a once cared for body folds in upon itself. 
Ringing in your ears causes one's head to spin. To not focus is to not be able to see. 
Blurs of greens, a blue perhaps the sky. Golden shines for a moment. Then the sight of flesh. 
Flesh unclothed, blotches of maroon identifiable upon the sun kissed skin. 
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A guttural scream escapes your lips, ripping through your vocal cords, straining already fatigued muscle. 
Cheeks, red as puffed eyes strained to stay open, salty water - your own tears-  sullying your face. Teeth bared as saliva bubbles and leaks from the corner of your mouth. 
Fingers tangled within a sickenly soft plumage of feathers. Almost comforting to touch under dirt stuffed nails.
Air that was once almost refreshing to the lungs now reeks of desperation and fear. Tawng of metallic lingering, your own blood that was long dried and flaking. A dried river of rusty colour liquid fashioned from your own wound, wrapping around your neck like a macabre necklace. 
It’s animalistic eyes boaring into you, pupils blown to unnatural size. Tilting its head, forcing itself to envelope your sight. It’s chest rumbling, trilling… studying.
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I am in desperate need for a proofreader ( ̄  ̄|||)
sorry this is another super short post but chapter one will be up tomorrow with about 2,000 words none of which are here this is just some extra content that i reworded and shortened so all new content tomorrow ;)
all feedback is welcome!
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son1c · 1 year
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robot animals are just regular animals with extra steps
falling stars fic masterpost
The desert was quiet at night. None of the palm trees wanted to talk, and only rustled when Omega got too close. They turned their leaves away from his noisy thrusters prudishly, refusing to look at him or the hedgehogs he carried in his hands as they flew by.
Without the warmth of the sun, the desert was also a cold place. A chill swept over the red capped dunes, tossing sand around like confetti at a birthday party. It mixed with yellow sand to the east and orange sand to the west, creating a swirling vortex of color that made it difficult to keep track of where they were and where they had been. A minute ago, they'd passed by a green sand hill, but when Sonic looked back, the only thing he could see was a mountain of purple.
Omega didn't seem bothered by the shifting terrain. He stayed the course toward Scrap Brain Base with a confidence that only a robot with an internal GPS could have. Sonic was glad he knew where he was going, but he wished he'd brought a blanket. The robot's large titanium hands were freezing cold, and the blue hedgehog couldn't help but shiver. Shadow shivered, too, despite his fever.
The sooner they got to Scrap Brain, the better.
But their trip across the desert continued. And continued. And continued. As the minutes wore on, Sonic's patience grew thinner, and he had to exercise a good deal of willpower just to keep himself from asking Omega “Are we there yet?” every two minutes.
Thankfully, something new eventually started appearing amongst the colorful sands: scrap metal. It was only a few pieces at first, but that changed quickly. After about a minute or two, the rainbow dunes were swallowed up by sheets of half-rusted steel and broken, mismatched robot parts. The sea of scrap had become so thick that Omega couldn’t even fly in a straight line anymore; he was forced to swerve around the larger bits of metal that jutted out from the ground like skewers.
As they continued through the junkyard, the name Scrap Brain Base was beginning to make a lot of sense to Sonic.
But before he could start wondering where the "Base" part of it was, Omega crested the top of a large hill, and Sonic’s eyes widened. What he saw laid out before him was a far cry from the barren desert. Now, everything was plated in chrome, and there were structures everywhere. Large silver buildings pierced the sky, glittering alongside the stars. The biggest building by far, however, was the massive chrome dome in the middle of the complex, and once Omega touched down on the stable metal ground, he began walking toward it.
There was also movement. Everywhere he looked, Sonic could see robots milling about. Oversized wasp bots peppered the sky, their wings buzzing as they crossed the Base's air space. Sonic waved at the group nearest to him, and the three striped robots flew over quickly. Maybe a little too quickly.
The robots looked angry. But Sonic kind of just assumed that's what they normally looked like--angry. Wasps weren't known for having a calm temperament, after all. So, he wasn't afraid when they crowded around Omega, their stingers pointed down at him.
"Pretty snazzy paint job there," Sonic said to the wasp robots. "Too bad you guys aren't red. Then you'd really remind me of a certain someone!"
The wasp robots buzzed. They looked at each other uncertainly, as if they weren't sure what they were seeing.
That was when Buggy decided to pipe up. From its spot on Omega's shoulder, the little motobug beeped at the wasp robots, and then gestured to Sonic with one of its claws. It then pointed toward itself before casually wagging its claw. It beeped again.
The wasp robots flitted around Omega, who was pointedly ignoring them. They still seemed unsure.
Sonic smiled at them. "Any friend of Buggy's is a friend of mine!"
Finally, one of the wasp robots got close enough for Sonic to reach out and touch it. He did so with the same excitement you'd find on a kid at a candy store. He gave the robot a light pat on the top of its head, his eyes sparkling. Completely nonthreatening.
Much like the motobug before it, the wasp robot didn't know how to react at first. It knew it should probably run him through with its stinger while his guard was down, but the confusion it was currently experiencing jammed its processors. Was the motobug telling the truth, and this guy really wasn't Sonic the Hedgehog?
The other wasp robots started to get curious. They stopped buzzing around Omega's head and moved to hover in front of Sonic, who now had three buzzy bombers staring at him like lost puppies. He was thrilled. "There's enough for everybody," he said. But because he was still holding Shadow with one arm, he could only spare one hand for the wasp robots. Miraculously, they all waited their turn to get a little scratch on the cheek from him before flying off.
"Playing with bugs again, hedgehog?" Shadow asked sleepily.
Sonic jumped. "Stripes!" His face broke out into a grin, his surprise quickly giving way to relief. "Oh, man. You just missed 'em--but don't feel too bad, alright? This place is crawling with robots--it's so cool!"
Shadow sat up fully. With eyes still somewhat bleary from his impromptu nap, he looked around. They were almost to the chrome dome's doorstep now. The tall metallic structure towered over them, but its size wasn't what caught Shadow's attention; it was the shape of it. It almost looked like a face, with a long metallic mustache jutting out from both sides.
It looked startlingly familiar.
Sonic said, "I'll catch you up to speed. After your little stunt with the helicopter took you outta the game, things weren't lookin' too hot. Luckily, Omega got us a get-out-of-jail-free card! And now we're gonna meet the guy responsible. Right, Omega?"
Omega stopped walking, having finally reached the entrance to the dome. He replied, "AFFIRMATIVE." Then, he stared intently at the button on the wall in front of him. With his hands full of hedgehogs, he couldn't press it. "BLUE HEDGEHOG," he said, "YOU MUST RING THE DOORBELL."
Sonic pressed the button. A little electronic jingle played. And kept playing.
"What's the hold up?" Sonic asked. "You sure they're not out on a milk run, Omega?"
Suddenly, the jingle stopped. A holographic screen popped out of the button, and the face of a man with a bushy mustache appeared. He didn't look happy. "Back so soon, Omega? Don't tell me you were unable to locate the source of that energy anomaly. I don't have time to waste on failure right now…"
Omega lifted up his hands and presented Sonic and Shadow to the man. "PRIMARY DIRECTIVE COMPLETE," he said. "REQUESTING ACCESS TO SCRAMBLED BRAIN BOWL."
The man stared at Sonic and Shadow.
The hedgehogs stared back at him.
Sonic broke the silence first. "I guess we have you to thank for Omega's help earlier, huh? Gotta say, this 'Robotropolis' thing you've got going on here sure came as a surprise! I kinda dig it, though."
The man was very quiet. After a moment, he said, "For an old friend such as yourself, I could spare no expense."
In a flash, the door to the Brain Bowl slid open.
"But this is no way to have our reunion! Please, come in." The man grinned at Sonic and Shadow. "It seems as though we have some… catching up… to do."
The holographic screen disappeared, taking the man's face with it. Then, Omega stepped into the Brain Bowl, and the hedgehogs got their first clear view of the interior. It was filled with heavy machinery and blinking lights. It was also ginormous--the room they had stepped into appeared to be more of an airplane hanger than a real room, and it was packed with in-progress inventions.
And one of those inventions…
Shadow hopped down from Omega's hands. He walked over to a dark blue robot that looked an awful lot like a hedgehog. It seemed to be complete, but deactivated for the time being, if the blank screen on its face was anything to go by.
"Gee, Stripes," Sonic said. "First a hero, now a robot? Seems like you've gotta lotta copycats runnin' around!"
Shadow turned away from the hedgehog robot so he could address Omega. "Do you know anything about this?"
"METAL SONIC IS CURRENTLY UNDERGOING MAINTENANCE," Omega replied.
Shadow looked back toward the dark blue robot. With a name like that, it must be a fake of the dead hero. He wondered what its purpose was, but Omega was already halfway across the hanger.
With one last glance, Shadow stepped away from the robot. He rejoined Omega, Sonic, and the motobug, and they all piled into a lift on the far side of the hanger together. However, instead of going up, the lift carried them downward, to the deepest part of the basement.
None of them saw Metal Sonic's eyes blink to life as they descended through the many levels of the Brain Bowl.
It didn't take long until they reached the bottom.
Once there, they passed through an open doorway and entered the room where Omega's creator was waiting for them. The man was clad in a long red coat, and his shiny glasses hid his eyes from view. Sonic couldn't help but notice the resemblance between him and Omega. He found it amusing.
"Excellent work, Omega," the man said, his hands clasped behind his back. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like a moment to speak with our guests. Alone." He punctuated his words with a shooing motion.
Omega set Sonic down next to Shadow and then stomped off. He took the motobug (who was trying to make itself as small as possible) with him.
The man turned to Sonic and Shadow. "Well, well, well," he said. "Your tenacity never ceases to amaze me, Sonic. And here I thought you might not've survived your trip through our atmosphere! My mistake."
Sonic and Shadow looked at each other.
Shadow said, "It's true, then? The fallen hero… is me?"
The man's glasses flashed. He let out a laugh. "Oh-ho-ho! So, that's how it is, hmm?" He looked between the two hedgehogs for a moment. "Your fall has left you both without any clue as to who you really are. Is that right?"
"Nah," Sonic said quickly. He sounded irritated, almost defensive. "I know who I am. I'm just not sure who I was. But I don't care about that." He leaned heavily on his good leg, and jerked his thumb in Shadow's direction. "It's Stripes who's lookin' for answers. You got 'em? Or are we gonna need to look someplace else?"
The man peered at Sonic. The mask he wore gave nothing away. "Even without your memories, your attitude has remained intact." He stroked his mustache thoughtfully, and finally turned his attention toward Shadow. "Stripes, was it? I alone hold the keys to your past. I will gladly hand them over to you, but before you take them, remember this: some doors are better left closed!"
Shadow frowned. He thought about the flashes of memories he'd already seen, and how they all carried a sort of melancholy with them. "There might be some truth to your words," he admitted. He squeezed his hands into fists at his sides. "But that doesn't matter to me. I need to know what lies beyond those doors!"
The man grinned. "Very well," he said. "In that case, your name is Shadow the Hedgehog. You're an artificial lifeform created to combat the tyrannical rule of G.U.N--of which you should be quite familiar." He paused, letting that information sink in before continuing. "In their pursuit of power, those fools have endangered the world. You and your little blue friend fell from space after taking care of just one of the many problems they've caused. Although, your escape from certain death might be short lived…"
"Hold it," Sonic said. "Are you sayin' that Stripes--Shadow--is gonna die? Seriously?"
It was hard to dispute what the man was telling them. Even now, Shadow still felt a little feverish.
"Don't you worry," the man said coyly. "Now that you've found your way back to me, I will subdue the Chaos Energy that's boiling his blood."
"And who are you to make such a claim?" Shadow asked.
The man's grin turned wolfish. "I'm the one who created you, of course. Doctor Ivo Robotnik. But you may call me Doctor Eggman!"
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misguidedasgardian · 1 year
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The White Dragon (6)
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6. NameDay
MASTERLIST
Summary: Happy name day your grace
Pairings: main Harwin Strong x Fem!Targaryen reader
Warnings: cursing, violence, mentions of domestic violence (not against reader, and only in this chapter), smut, breeding kink (c'mon Harwin you already have it😂) medieval and A song of ice and Fire AU customs
+ 18, MINORS DNI
Wordcount: 3.6k
Notes: I have a big confusion with the ages and everything, it hard to keep track of, I gather that in the third chapter, “Second of his name” Rhaenyra was 17? and Aegon was 2? But that makes everything more confusing. I want everyone (spoilersss) to be the same age as Aemond so I changed things a bit. This is some sort of filler chapter, sorry
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You flew over Pentos but you kept flying east, the wind in your face, earth below you, only skies above you. And then, the scenery changed, in front of you, there were endless fields of yellow grass. 
Horses galloping, mounted but shirtless men with long black hair and skin kissed by the raging sun. Soon you were challenging them to a race, you flying above them, and they ran under you, like you were all facing battle, together. But your dragon was faster, you quickly surpassed them and left them behind, but the butterflies in your stomach didn’t go away, they kept tickling you. 
When you saw a beautiful plain of grass you commanded Vhaelar to descend, you wanted to feel the grass under your feet, and the sun above you. Hoping you left the Khalasar behind you. 
Even if you enjoyed your travels, and the hunger for it only grew, you had much left to explore, and yet… you miss the comfort of your bed, the safety of the Keep. The certainty no harm will come to you. You did miss those things, and also your family. 
You closed your eyes as Vhaelar flies away, leaving you alone. As you were willing to face the sun above, and enjoy the solitude, but as you basked in it, a cold breeze hit your body, and made you tremble. As you looked upon the horizon a storm was gathering, and that made you frown, because you hadn't spotted when you were a top of your dragon
A single raindrop fell on your face, and that was all it took to start running. Your dragon wasn’t near, he flew so far away in so little time… where was she? In the distance you saw a run down tall tower, huge, built with gray stones. As you ran towards it for shelter from the storm, a massive black dragon landed on top of it, making you stop immediately. Screeching, flapping its black and red wings. When he spotted you, the storm was already falling from above, the cold rain soaking you, lightning struck, illuminating the gray sky. His ruby eyes told you what you needed to know, it was the Black Dread itself, Balerion, you have heard the stories many times. 
From within the tower, you saw a green light, you never saw anything like it, but the light spreaded, all over the windows, and soon, you could see it even between the stones. The tower exploded with green fire from within, wildfire, the black dragon still roaring above it, but it disappeared under the green flames with a screech. 
The explosion made you fall backwards. you looked up above the skies and you were met with dragons flying above you. One, biggest above everyone else, was Vhagar, the Queen of all dragons, you stood up from the ground, the storm still ragging on. But as another lightning brighten up the sky, the huge dragon descended on you, and the last thing you saw was her huge mouth opening to swallow you whole 
You woke with your own scream, fighting for breath, to find yourself in the safety of your rooms. Your breathing was heavy, your heart was pounding inside your chest so hard you could almost hear it. 
But you woke up alone, Harwin wasn’t there, you guessed he had left for the city watch, you knew that he was on the brink of a promotion, and you were happy for him. And glad that he wasn’t woken by your scream either
You felt a knock on the door
“Your grace, are you alright?” it was the voice of one of the kingsguard
“Yes, I’m fine, I just had a nightmare”. You stood in bed trying to regain your bearings, and, just like that, you felt something inside your belly, like a little kick. You giggle, caressing your stomach and felt another one
“Well, good morning little one” you whispered, with a silly smile on your face. Until your lady in waiting opened the door with your breakfast.
“Good morning your grace”
“Good morning Viola”, you greeted. You ate alone, and fast and then she helped you put on a beautiful dress you chose for the day. 
And then you realized… 
Today was your birthday
How could you ever forget it? It just slipped your mind!, but inside you felt a weird need for everyone else to forget, you weren’t in the mood for celebrating, and probably, they all did. Probably all of them forgot it was your name day
You got out of your chambers, you were still ”grounded” inside the keep, you still needed to make everyone believe you were not going to leave without warning again, rubbing your belly, happily discovering that your baby was big enough to kick. You could really feel him now
When you walked down the hallways that led to your chambers, you met Steffon who was waiting for you down the stairs
“Good morning your grace” you just had to hear him, he was smiling cheekily and his tone was one of almost mockery
“Good morning” you teased, “Before you tell me what you are hiding, I want to tell you…” you said with a wide smile, “I felt my baby kick today”
“It certainly is a special day your grace”, he muttered, that smile not disappearing from his face, “Congratulations”
“Well thank you”, you kept your teasing voice up
“Now let me escort you” he pointed at a hall that led to the gardens
“What are you up to?” you asked him, suddenly panicking
“Come on princess, don’t you enjoy a little surprise?” 
“Since last year, not really” you muttered. He placed a hand on the small of your back and led you. You walked with your stomach turning into knots, or perhaps it was your child moving around. Either way, when you went out in the gardens… You gasped in amazement and wonder
The entire thing was covered in colorful tents, hundreds of people were walking about, big tables with banquets, and tents with games, the court’s fools playing around dressed in multiple color ribbons. Music playing loudly. Everything looked like an explosion of a child's dreams. The banners of all the important families were flying around, all the nobles, the court, and servants of the Red Keep, they were all there, and everyone, as you walked by, greeted you
“Happy name/day your grace”. your eyes filled with tears of happiness, as you walked alongside Steffon, who look as pleased as you were happy 
“Is this all for me?” you asked him
“Don’t cry please” he chuckled. You thanked all the people that greeted you, as he kept taking you deeper into the celebration, “It was your father’s doing”
There was your family, seated behind the main table
It was a beautiful day. Your father even seemed happy, showing proudly the pin you gave him. I was a small dragon, made of marble, that shone white under the sunlight. Alongside him was the Queen and by her own side, was Aegon, who had turned 4, little beautiful Helaena, who had 2 name days, and baby Aemond, being held by his wetnurse, a couple of months old. Rhaenyra was on the other side of the King, and had baby Jacaerys in her arms, at her side was Laenor, and Daemon himself, who was looking at you with a silly smile on his face. Even Larys and Lyonel were seated in a corner of the table. 
“Happy name day!” Harwin appeared in your eyesight, with a big smile. You smiled at him but he engulfed you between his big arms
“Thank you husband” you muttered when he released you, and cradled your face with his hands. “Did you have anything to do with this?”, you asked
“Of course”, he whispered, kissing your cheek, “I help my father and the king with the preparations”. He looked down at you, again, with his big eyes full of hope that you will forgive him soon
“The baby kicked this morning,” you told him. And he placed his hand on your belly
“Stop monopolizing the birthday girl!” your father chimed in, “happy name day my love” he hugged you tightly and you hugged him back
“Thank you father, thank you for all of this”
“You deserve it, my sweet girl”, your family congratulated you next, the Queen herself and your little brothers, and then Rhaenyra with a strange smile and a tight hug. 
“Happy name day sister” she whispered
“Thank you”, you were encouraged to tour the fields and their tents, taste foods from all over the 7 kingdoms and play silly games involving a ball and things you had to knock over to win wooden toys. Harwin was with you, every chance he could he placed his hand on your belly with a beautiful smile on his lips. You believe he was hoping to feel the baby kick like you had told him you felt. 
Walking towards you, you saw an old friend, your very best friend
When you were a kid you used to ran around following Alicent and Rhaenyra like a lost pup, they would paid you no mind and left you alone, at those years the difference in your ages was much, that’s when you turned and met Joanna Lannister, she was the baby sister of Jason and Tyland, was way younger, daughter to their father’s second wife 
You made fast friends, and stayed attached to the hip ever since.
“Joanna!” you greeted hugging her tightly, she hugged you back, burying her head in the space between your shoulder and neck
“I miss you, your grace” she whispered
“Your grace?” you finally separated and you looked into your friend’s eyes, “it’s been that long?” you giggled. Joanna was married off to the head of the Reyne family, the second wealthiest family in the Westerlands. She was 16 and she married shortly after Rhaenyra, from them, you both had drifted apart 
“Harwin this is Joanna Lannister, my best friend” you introduced, “Joanna this is my husband Harwin, of house Strong”. 
“Pleasure to meet you”, he took her hand in his and kissed it
“Same Ser Harwin”, she muttered
“We haven’t seen you in so long!” you exclaimed
“I’ll let you talk with your friend then, my love” grunted Harwin, dropping a kiss to your cheek and he left you, to grab her hand and intertwine it around your arm, so you could walk the attractions together. 
“I missed you friend” she giggled
“How is life in the Westerlands?” you saw her eyes saddened at the question, but she smiled at you nonetheless
“Very boring I’m afraid”
“Maybe I could find a job for your husband in the capital and then you could stay” you suggested. She seemed happier then. Nodding as you walk. As all the guests were seating and eating, and you had already had your fill, you sat with Johanna in a bench, hoping to have more privacy
“So we are both married now” you started, “We have come so far in the past few years, don’t you think?”
“I heard you ran away” she asked, concerned
“I did” you admitted I wanted to travel, “it was childish of me”
“I don’t think it was” she giggled, “You could see the world”
“Some of it,” you muttered, “Next time I go I can take you with me”, you offered with a smile, and for the first time you could see her truly happy, “and what have you been up to?” You wanted to ask her why she wasn’t with child, or if she had any, but you thought it might be rude. It only been two years, perhaps it was too soon, and… perhaps Harwin performed very well, more well than others. And you blushed at the thought
“Well I got married, and he is so handsome, nothing much, I really… well, my husband doesn’t let me do anything”
“What do you mean?” you asked her
“Well I thought that as a Lady of a castle I could order things, change things, but…” she had trouble explaining, playing with her fingers. Truly this past two years changed her, she used to be such a force, giggly, happy, content, playful, with a personality as bright as the sun.  
She then looked up, and saw Ser Harwin across the yard, he looked at both of you and smiled brightly, raising his cup. “You are so lucky”, she whispered. 
“I don’t know about that” you whispered
“You have a man that loves you and respects you”, and has a son with your sister, you thought bitterly, “and gave you a baby”, she whispered looking at your swollen belly. You then looked at her, her face twisted in sorrow
“Joanna”, you called, she looked up at you, “what happened?”
“Nothing” she whispered
“My relationship with Harwin isn’t perfect”, you muttered
“Yes, I imagine that is a little intimidating, being married to the strongest man in the realm”, you looked back at her to find unshed tears in her eyes, you grabbed her upper arm to comfort her but she flinched. And then you understood it
“Harwin is so gentle with me, like I’m an intricate porcelain figurine”, you assured her, “Joanna, what is going on?” you asked her. A single tear fell from her eye 
“Not all men are like that”. and right there, you saw red
“Did he hurt you?”, you asked, even though you were whispering, she could tell your anger
“He is not content with me, I can’t give him children”
“Perhaps is that twat’s fault”, you said, angry, you became angry, “have he ever thought of that?” 
“It doesn’t matter, he is my husband”
“He hasn’t has the right to hurt you” 
“I’m his” she said bitterly
“And he is yours, what of it?” you asked
“He can do whatever he pleases” 
“But you are a Lannister” you said, impressed and disgusted by her words, “of Casterly Rock, of Lannisport, one of the most wealthy and badass families on the realm”, she giggled, looking at her intertwined fingers on her lap
“But I’m a girl,” she said back. 
“But…” you wanted to fight and discuss, “Hear me roar!” you muttered, “you are a lion”, she chuckled darkly
“More like a kitten”, she whispered
“Your brothers know of this?” you asked
“I tried to tell them, but they didn’t care”, you chuckled, darkly, looking all around trying to calm yourself, but you couldn’t. You then looked back at your friend, you leaned in to whisper in her ears
“Can you hire someone, to…?”, you slid your finger from one side of your neck to the other
“No!”
“But maybe I can” you muttered, not a single sentiment in your voice. She looked at your eyes and chanted your name like a prayer, “Joanna” you called back
“You can’t mean it” she whispered
“But I do”, you said, “you are my friend!”
“And you are mine” she whispered, grabbing your hand in hers
“I want nothing more but to see you happy, and safe”, you whispered, “Do you love that man?” and she shook her head
“I would love to stay here, like I did when we were little” 
“Well, as a princess and third in line to the throne, I command you to stay, as my lady in waiting”, you muttered. 
“Really, you can do that?” she asked, and you only smiled
“Well it’s also my birthday”, you giggled, “Let’s find out”, you winked at her and she seemed more happy then, giggling and slowly recovering her bubbly personality, with the promise of your protection. 
You grabbed her hand as you were called to the main table, you sat there at the side of your friend and Harwin and the rest of your family, and a show in your honor started. 
The day passed fast, more than you would have liked, and soon you were called in your father’s chambers. The King was visibly tired, and you as well, your belly was getting heavy on you. 
“Thank you for the celebrations, father” you whispered
“Like I say, you deserve it”, he muttered with an easy smile on his face.
“I don’t think I do” you continued
“You are my darling daughter”, he muttered, he invited you to sit next to him and you did. “You are a married woman now, with a child in your belly, strengthening your line, you have made me very proud”  
“Really?” you asked, like if you were a little girl
“Of course my dear, and I want to see you happy”
“I am”, you think you were
“Lyonel spoke to me about Harrenhal, and how Harwin is to inherit it”
“It’s true”, you muttered
“As my Hand, he has his obligations here” he muttered, “and he was hoping that one day, very near, Harwin was to inherit his obligations, since he is the eldest son”
“it’s true”, you confirmed
“If you are to move there with your family, there are things that need to be done”, he then stood up from his seat, and moved to the table next to his huge model of Valyria, and unveiled a smaller model, for a castle, “With your dowry, we can begin the constructions”, he said with a big smile
“The construction?” you asked, “for what?”, a smile creeping at your lips
“The New Castle of Harrenhal”, he presented
You had been so celebrated that it felt drowsy and a little bashful. A huge celebration, an entire castle to be built in your honor,  and…
As a part of a gift for your birthday, and because you were with child, your father had arranged new chambers for you, they were a floor below than the room you had since you were an infant, and they were bigger, with bigger windows and a balcony with sights to the Blackwater Bay, and a receiving chamber with a hearth, and big spaces for your books a table and chairs, and then an specious room, with another hearth for the long winters, and a beautiful bed with a canopy. And a spacious space where the cradle for the baby rested, a beautiful dark/wooden carved crib. 
It was more than you thought you deserved, but having your own space, in a new room, bigger, with more light and space, really gave you tranquility, and also, there was a set of door on the other side, meaning that it was for your future family, the chambers that they were going to be assigned to your children when they are no longer infants 
So when you arrived at your new chambers, your things were already there since servants moved them during the day, and also Harwin was waiting for you, and engulfed you in his big arms. He had the tendency of doing that, touching you everytime he could, when you were in close proximity he had always have to had a hand in contact with you 
“Thank you for today” you whispered against his chest, “It was beautiful”
“I wanted to wake up next to you this morning”, he grunted, “but your father and sister wanted it to be a surprise” 
“It’s quite alright”, and just now, you let him kiss you. Fuck, you loved him, you just didn’t want him to know, you didn’t want to give him that power over you. 
The hour of the owl was approaching, and you already wanted to sleep in your new comfortable bed, “I’m tired” you grumbled, separating from him gently, caressing your big belly. it was getting bigger by the day, “and everything hurts”, you walked towards your dresser but you felt him behind you. 
“I know what could make you feel better”, he growled in your ear, creating goosebumps in your skin, his hands perched on your shoulders but went down your arms and then your hips to end up in your belly
He sat on the bed and took you with him, making you sit on his lap
“Do you now?”, you asked, his touch relaxed you, resting all your weight on him gave you relief. 
“Oh yes”, he growled, his big hands caressed your belly, as your back rested against his chest. He grabbed your dress and pulled it up until he could take the hem and fold it all over your belly, your naked skin ready for his touch. He placed his hands on your belly again, his warm hands felt so good against your skin
“You look so beautiful pregnant” he growled, kissing you under your ear, “it suits you wife, I think I’m going to constantly keep you that way”
“Good luck with that” you giggled, you moaned softly when you felt his cock growing under your rear, and thought about how long it’s been since the last time Harwin had you like that. And you found yourself putty in his hands
“Sounds like bullshit…” he chuckled in your ear, “but I will make you feel better.” you moaned softly when he started to rub himself on you. 
“Do it” was quick, but so gentle when he let go of you only to release himself, and then his hands were on you again, directing you to impale yourself on him. The stretch was delicious and it made you feel so good. You moaned loudly when you felt his cock opening you for him, rubbing against your slippery walls
“I love you”, he grunted, with one hand in your belly, and then spread your legs apart so he could hook them over his own legs and open you up more for him. 
“Harwin” you called, your head leaning back until it was on his shoulder. He held you as he fucked you slowly and deep. 
You relaxed on his arms, feeling as he carried your weight for you, and strangely, you did feel better. 
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Taglist! ❤️ @tearsarcane @integra1127 @aestmilky @thanyatargaryen @tythaitie @lostinworldofdarkness @voodoogoul @wildmindedbeauty32 @lil-pudd @alicattx @electric-bloo @astaaan-lol @stargaryenx @kaitieskidmore1 @bregarc @lilpnd @jcpenneyyy @janelei @fexibau @ladyoakenshield157 @danielle-leah1997 @lady-ragnvindr @cecilyjmorgenstern @omgsuperstarg @bugheadskid @batprincess1013
Harrenhal is getting renewed, or built again a few yards away 😂 whatever you prefer, but the important thing is that the curse doesn't exist, I think I will write one or two more, before we have a time jump. Because we have a new generation coming up 😂
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thesunandhisstar · 6 days
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Winter conversations- 785 words
Remus closed the door behind him, carefully hanging his coat on the hook before continuing on to the kitchen.
It had been a very long day, work was tiring and hard and he was often overworked, but he couldn't exactly complain. Work wasn't easy to come by for a werewolf and he couldn't afford to lose this job.
Remus sighed, placing his bags on the ground and turning to open the fridge. It was mostly empty, bar a slightly old apple and last night's leftovers, he'd have to go shopping tomorrow.
Remus didn't dwell on this though. He had been looking forward to today for weeks.
Tonight he got to see Sirius again.
Remus hadn't been able to see him for a while and he was long overdue to talk to him again.
He quickly changed out of his work clothes, slipping on a warm, cream coloured sweater and a pair of brown pants. Grabbing a couple of chocolates from the bowl by his bed, Remus descended down the stairs before sliding on his shoes and coat and slipping through the back door.
He wandered through the forest, freshly fallen snow crunched under his shoes and tree branches shook in the breeze above him.
Crisp evening air filled his chest as he inhaled, expanding his lungs with life before whooshing back out into the chilly December evening.
A small brown bird landed on a branch and Remus stopped to watch it. The little bird was all puffed up and fluffy, its wine red chest feathers starkly contrasting the glittering snow on the branch beneath it. Its dusty yellow beak furrowed into the pom pom of feathers as the small bird nestled itself into the tree.
The corner of Remus' mouth turned upwards and he continued along the snowy path.
He finally came to a large old oak tree, his tree, by the edge of a small clearing.
It stood strong and steady, its branches spreading out across the sky. In summer, the leaves were a brilliant green, shading the grass below from the harshest summer sun. Remus has spent many an afternoon resting beneath the tree, leaning against the study trunk. Oftentimes Sirius had joined him, asking Remus to read aloud to him or simply laying beside him, soaking in the summer air.
Remus lowered himself to the cool ground, leaning against the trunk. He tilted his head back, letting it rest against the deep brown bark.
He sat silently for a while, listening to the soft orchestra of the forest as the sun slowly set, the winter forest welcoming the night.
Sirius came out shortly after the sun finally dipped over the horizon. His presence sent a warm feeling through Remus’ body, like finally coming home from a long trip away.
He lifted his head from where he was sitting, looking up at Sirius as he smiled.
“It's been too long.”
Remus readjusted his position slightly, sitting upright against the tree, still relaxed but slightly more attentive.
Remus stared at him for a moment, unhurried, silently taking in the beauty before him.
Finally, he began to talk. The words spilled out of Remus, soft at first though they did grow in intensity, most hardly went above a quiet murmur. He told Sirius all about his work, laying out the details of his new project, about the new employee he'd had to train.
He told Sirius how exhausted he was becoming, he told him how his fridge was bare and his house was silent.
He talked and talked until he had no words left.
When he finally finished speaking, the silence of the forest stretched into the dark. Crickets hummed their melody in the distance as Remus sighed.
It felt as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders as he rested his head back against the tree. Remus breathed for a moment, simply existing. Beneath his tree, beneath the starry skies and the half crescent winter moon. Away from people who wanted things from him or expected him to be something or do something. For a precious moment Remus could simply exist.
The breeze caressed his face as Remus' eyes slid closed. Sirius would still be there when Remus opened his eyes, for a moment he just sat.
Eventually the air grew colder and the wind more persistent and Remus sighed, standing slowly. He couldn't stay out for too much longer though he wouldn't go home in any hurry.
An owl hooted nearby as Remus gathered himself from the floor, beginning to walk back down the path.
Remus paused for a moment, turning back to the clearing, looking up at his star one last time.
“Goodnight love,” he whispered into the night sky.
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irregularbillcipher · 6 months
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been feeling nostalgic for my favorite old virtual pet sites lately
these will eventually be available as mini prints in my shop!
[ID
Two images are in the photoset.
The first image is a lineless digital painting of the logo of the Wishing Well 2 Webkinz game. It shows a smiling brown Webkinz puppy with a white face and paws, and a slight blush, looking down happily into a wishing well. The puppy's reflection is shown in the water, along with a cherry, a wishing well, and an orange. The well itself is a rainbow, stone well with a yellow roof. It is sitting on a green, grassy hill dotted with small white flowers. The sky behind the well and puppy is a very pale orange-pink, leaning on the pink side, and the sky is filled with clouds. A pastel rainbow stretched across the sky.
The second image is of an alien Aisha from Neopets. The Aisha, a green, cat-like Neopet with four antennae and a red triangle on their forehead, is in a spacesuit, floating in space. The suit is white and gray, and they have a red collar with an "A" as the tag. There is tubing, also gray, extending from the suit to a ufo in the top-right corner of the painting in a spiral. The Aisha is holding a large, yellow, five-pointed star that is glowing, and is smiling at it happily, their eyes closed. in the background, with the aforementioned ufo, is a sky full of slightly darker orange stars, also glowing, along with two planets-- one pink with brighter pink swirls, and one purple with crossing pink rings. The background is a deep purple, with some slightly paler purple clouds. The Aisha, tubing and ufo are all lined with a purple much brighter than the background, but all the background details, such as the planets, stars and clouds, are lineless.
End ID.]
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voidcat · 7 months
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Hi Danyl, would you mind writing some Dazai headcanons? <3
Hi my dearest Kat, for you? Always<3
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Despite the impression he gives off, Dazai is a serene driver, who drives like the world outside the vehicle does not exist.
Its a fact only few are aware, as it is an rare occurrence that he is driving— and one is willing to hop in. After all, considering how he acts on the daily, not many trust him behind the wheel.
Night comes with no trains left and an urgency waiting you on the other side of the next day, Kunikida calls out to Dazai, knowing he is slacking off already. Drivers duty is nothing compared to the towers of files waiting on his desk after all, and wait long waiting wrath of Kunikida on the other line, Dazai swiftly goes out, already waiting for you inside the car.
The full moon hung in the dark night sky and earphones in your ears, you steal glances at the normally enthusiastic and loud man besides you— now drown in complete silence, eyes fixed on the road, with an expression not quite blank but not burdened with any thoughts eating away.
Eyes back on the moon, you notice it’s bigger than usual if your perception isn’t deceiving you— and presenting itself wrapped in rainbows, a halo of yellow, red and slight green, the light of the moon itself offering the missing blue for this little art piece.
No matter how proper or rocky the roads may be, the car drives swiftly; you have to think for a second to recall the last time you have experienced a car ride this smooth, safe and sound; you have forgotten just how peaceful these can be, remembering once more why some people drive the night away to clear their head.
With music slowly taking over, the moon shining like this is its last day in the universe, the pitch black sky as if in a pocket dimension, and Dazai, now a completely different man next to you, you are nulled to sleep.
Only when the music has come to an end and Dazai is nearing a resting spot does your eyes open again, watching the moon light dance on his face— a new side to him, a new sight of Dazai Osamu you have reached the honor of witnessing.
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mynameis-noe-body · 6 months
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Wonderland Chronicles
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Tarrant Higtopp (Mad Hatter) × Alice Kingsleigh
Rating: Mature
Status: Complete (one shot)
Summary: Alice and Tarrant get inspired by fruit juices and enjoy smutty time, all alone during a tea party.
Alice has seven, beautiful pieces of cloth — which is a very fine number, for clothes. And he knows about that, surely, he made them with his own magical hands, and his good heart, obviously. Tarrant loves to believe there's a little bit of love in every of his artworks and Alice's dresses are his most fabulous creations. She has two majestic, opulent suits — with long coat and embroidered pants — that she loves to wear during the most elegant nights at Marmoreal Castle, with Queen Mirana and the whole court. Then, there's her night gown, which is made of the finest silk — and Caterpillar knows that better than anyone else in the Underlands — and is of the loveliest shade of avory, as pale as the big moon in their night sky. She wears a lilac jumpsuit when she's about to travel through the lands on the back of the Bandersnatch, who's the most affectionate towards their Champion. And — last but not least — there are those three tea-lenght dresses, cut and sewn from long fabrics of organza, lace and tulle, painted of the most intense shade of cobalt, or vivid cerulean or perhaps light blue sky. Yes — every shade of blue is Alice: among the softest clouds and in the deepest water, everywhere there's a little bit of blue that reminds him of his pretty, pretty Alice.
Tarrant is the happiest as she comes at his door wearing one of those three dresses, because that means they are going to spend some time together, and that would be one of the best days ever (as any day spent with Alice is the most beautiful of them all). And that one is a very fine day. Time has fallen asleep somewhere, and it seems the sun itself has stopped in the middle of the afternoon to leave them happily bathed in his warm light; sitting on a big picnic blanket, the Hatter opens his wicker basket. «Come on — hop hop — time to jump out of the cupboard, little friends. We have a very important guest to entertain!» and suddenly, two small cups of fine porcelain and a puffy teapot pop up and land on the blanket. «Oh, good. Tea's ready.»
«I wish cups and teapots could make tea on their own in the Upland, too. I could not imagine Mother's surprise at this!» Alice says; her little smile is the extremely satisfying.
Tarrant, however, suddenly feels Sadness thighting her hands around his neck. «Why, Alice — are you already planning to leave? I couldn't bear it, honestly. You've just come back» to me, he would add, but he isn't sure how she would take that. Brave she is, yes, but sometimes too unfocused on her Muchness to see what truly happens around her.
She shakes her head. The yellow porcelain cup jump on the open palm of her hand and she sips the green tea. «No, Hatter. This time I've come back for good, I promise.»
And she had promised, many moons ago, that she had wanted to stay this time. Business were finally done and gone in the Upland, that very strange place had no more sense to her; evil people there, and no fun at all. Not for a woman, anyway. While there, they had valiant Queens and brave Warrior lasses. Tarrant had made her tell the story of how she had chased a dream through a painting to fall down there all over again; a big tableau on the wall above the fireplace, she had painted just little details here and there: a white rabbit, big scarlet mushrooms and singing flowers, two funny children in white and red stripes and — obviously — a Mad Hatter. And when she had seen them walking together down the green, grassy road, she knew she only had to reach out. She didn't even bother to say goodbye.
He smiles at the thought, and his eyes sparkles emerald. «Well that's the best news, Alice! Many things I desire to show you.»
«Tell me about that.» Alice lets the cup go, and lays on the blanket; her golden hair are scattered around her just-right-seized head as a mane, her pale, soft skin shines in the lovely light of the day, a sweet breeze blows on her cheeks and goosebumps runs on her chest. Nice breast — round and soft under her garments, plump as ripe fruits and oh-so sweet, he'd die so happy is he could just... if 'is greedy slurvish tongue could tast' ta' bonnie lass — nice 'n' slow, just a lil' bite — «Hatter!» she exclaims, and his eyes, which had become so purple just a few seconds ago, turns back green.
«I beg your pardon.» Oh — good Absolem and all his little caterpillars — those thoughts have been haunting him for quite some time now. He doesn't wants to ruin their friendship, but the Madness is getting stronger. Harder to control when she's around him. She smells like spring and cupcakes, and such lov— no, not again. «Right, where were we? Ah yes, our new adventures, dearest Alice. I plan to bring you to the Merry Lake, maybe fishing, and you'll need a new hat obviously! A nice boater with black 'n' white stripes. Then, I'll bring you to the Fairy Forest, to catch flying seahorses, and you'll wear a cartwheel — pink, yes! Or maybe just coral and blue. Oh, I must not forget, I still need to show you how to pick spurtberries!»
Alice laughs loudly. She sits up again, next to him and Tarrant isn't sure he's breathing again. Her scent is intoxicating, the warmest desire inflames his loins — dear, the gods couldn't compare her fine beauty — such a bonnie gurl, mmmh, yes, I wanna lick ta' lips 'n' bite her neck, luvely creature my Alice. Mine. Mine to tast' fffuck — «...a spurtberry?» her voice breaks into his mad mad head and he smiles back.
«I believe I'm distracted today, Alice, thinking about hats... A fez! Yes! Forgive me, love. What were you saying?»
He doesn't notice, at first, but then her cheeks turns of the prettiest shade of red, like two ripe, sweet peaches, and her eyes grow big and wide, her short breath on his face betrays some new emotion. He's so bewitched by her image — the tip of her tongue wet her lips, and he wants nothing more than to kiss her, and taste her, and let his mouth run down her skin of the neck to bite her there, and on the swell curve of her breasts — he forgets he's just called her love.
Alice's heart is thundering in her chest, but she doesn't know what do with it. Would it be so scandalous to touch him? She let her hand caress his knee, softly, with reverence. «What is a spurtberry, Tarrant?»
Oh, his name. Such a sweet sound on her lips. He closes his eyes — his iris are turning purple and it isn't good, very much not good — and he tries a smile. «Spurtberries! Yes, delicious. Wait, I may have some here» and he opens the basket again; his whole arm search for that plate deep inside the casket, as if it was as the deep as the heart, and finally he finds them. Round, bright red berries, as big strawberries, as round as blueberries and as sweet as currant. He takes one between his fingers and smiles. «Here, try it» he shows her how to bite.
And she bites. Her theet sink into the soft texture of the fruit while she hums her delight. It looks so innocent, his two slim fingers feeding her hungry lips and however, it feels so naughty and erotic — the way is index barely touches her lower lip, the moan in her throat as delicious juices flow down in her belly, that scarlet tint dripping down on the palm of his hand, and now on her chin too, and now — good gods, her white neck now painted in red. That single drop slides down on her skin, and slowly disappear behind the hem of the cobalt neckline. She has worne that dress, that one that shows so much of her fine body, and her think naked ankles; it wraps her like a previous gift. And her chest swells with fresh air, their dreamy gazes meet in mid air.
She barely breathes, and he knows now how their lips are just few inches away. Her sapphire eyes sparkle with want and desire. «Tarrant» she whispers.
«Yes?» — it pains him so much, please, he silently begs her, please I'm so miserable, my dear Alice.
«Don't you want to taste it, too?» and she smiles, teasing.
Tarrant smirks. «Yes.» And he kisses her.
Sure and firm his lips press on hers, and they catch fire. There's everything in that kiss, how they've missed each other, how deep is their need to belong, finally; they move together, the kiss depeens and their tongues make love amog their lips. It's slow and sensual, she's so sweet he thinks he could die right there, on the lovely softness of her mouth, listening to her little voice moaning his name. He growls. Gods — he hasn't felt this wild in a while, she inflames his desires. Hot, it feels so hot suddenly he aruptly takes off his cravat and unbutton his jacket, but that only turns on Alice's Muchness, for her bare hands grab the back of his neck, and his frizzy hair, and she takes him so tight — her mouth is so lovely open, her tongue slides over his upper lip and he snarls. Fuck. Yes. And he bites her, moaning her name, and suck lavishly on her tongue.
«Mmh — oh me' dear Alice, me' bonnie, luvely lass — lemme just, there, lemme taste your sweetness. Gods, lemme giv' ya everthin'» and he sucks on her neck. Her desperate cry of pleasure is the most perfect music. He's drinking on her, licking the purple trace of juice on her body, his tongue gliding down her naked chest. A kiss, another kiss. And he sucks, hard, leaving big red marks on her, if his name written on her skin. Her hands in his hair urge him; she's always been so greedy — his Alice — hungry for more, impatient and eager. There's no way he can open his mouth more or he'd swallow her all. He has to stop — he must. When he breathes into her breasts her scent fills his soul and he can just feel it, how hard he is. No pain has ever been so sweet. «Lemme luv you, lass. I want to tell you, how deep my live for you is, my Alice. Mine.» He presses his lips closed on her skin. «I will show you, luv — how I can give you the greatest pleasure with the tip of my tongue, and how you'll feel with my finger on your pretty, wet quim. Are you, Alice? Wet?»
It is, she is. Alice has no words, there's a hot warm feeling spreading between her legs and she's whimpering, begging him with wide, liquid eyes to touch her more, to kiss her more. Yes — those lips on her breasts feel so good, so soft and hungry. She embraces him, sliding her hand on his back; she just need so much of him against her body — more skin, more everything. «Off, Tarrant. Please, show me!»
They rip their clothes off: he takes off his waistcoat, his white shirt and he opens his breeches — it feels good, his hard clothed cock against her thigh as she fumbles with her gown. Avory long legs are now bare before his thirsty gaze. His fingers are rough, calloused on her skin and she squirms under his touch. Steady, yes — his Alice never wears stockings, or corset. Naughty, naughty girl. He licks his lips as a kitten in front of a delicious bowl of sweet cream. Her cream, yes, between her legs, on the soft flesh of her pink, virgin cunt. What a sight. «Do not be afraid, luv. Trust your mad, mad Hatter — for only good may come from such a sinful folly. Open your legs, open for me — yes, nice and wide my brave Alice.» He gently takes off his hat, and smirks maliciously as he sinks into that arousal.
He presses his lips on her wet flesh, kissing his way down her cunt; she suddenly whimper and whine, like a little cat begging for more. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands as her legs slowly open more, more, and she offers everything and every bit of pleasure she may give. Yes — she's gone for good, Madness has caught her finally, taken her to the warm ocean of lust in which she's drowing now. And it feels more than good. She was made for this. «Oh — Tarrant! More — God, more!»
«No gods here, love — just your faithful Hatter. Delicious, lovely Alice. Lemme ea'tis pretty pussie here.» Tarrant shoves his tongue inside her, there where sweet juices drips out of her sex and onto his lips, he licks and suck, and his skilled fingers caresses her most sensitive part. His thumb presses on that little bundle of nerves, her small clit, the lovely pearl between those pinky lips and she moans his name. Again. Greedy, ravenous, he's feeding on her — yes.
Alice grabs his hair, and finally starts to ride his face: she rocks her hips up and down, up and down taking everything, bucking into his hot mouth. More — she needs more, there yesyesyesyes. She's so empty, but of what she does not know. There something wrong, a void, and she's crying again for him. «Empty — so empty, Tarrant please! I need... I need —»
«I ken what ya need, luv.»
He lies on the blanket, taking her in his arm, kissing her cheek. His crotch humping against her thigh feels so good... And he can't wait anymore, two wide fingers thrust in, all the way in — inside her, so soft and tight, that virgin cunt takes him so well, it was made to be marked by his touch. And she arches her back so he can press into the perfect spot. «There, Tarrant!» and he knows what he's doing: come — his fingers sing into her soul, into her loins, turning on the burning flame of a sweet orgasm into her cunt. Licking his lips, he watches her losing control; her nails press deep in the flesh of his back, and can't help himself but wish to bring those scratches on his skin forever.
He bucks his hips against her, thrusting his hard cock on her soft hips, more and more, wetting his garments with precum and moaning in her ear. «Nngh — fffuck, Alice my luv, jus' like tha' — feel so good — good gurl.» And as she's rocking against the palm of his hand and his fingers shove deep inside, he's pressing his cock harder on her softness. It feel too perfect to last. There they are, shuddering hard as he sinks his theet on her neck, sucking another red love-bite, moaning her name — AliceAliceAlice — and she screams her pleasure, sobbing against his warm body, tears of happiness sliding down her pinky cheecks. Then, it subsides, slowly like the waves on the shore, and all that's left are their whispers of love. They kiss, barely pecking their lips, smiling happy together.
Tarrant eyes turns of the most intense, deepest green as she breathes against his neck, going limp in his arms. «Are you well, dearest?»
Alice smiles and reaches out to grab a little red Berry. She bites, scarlet juices dripping on her fingers; she let it slides on his chest — and he hisses, smiling knowingly. «Never better, Tarrat» she licks his neck. «But I believe now, it is my turn.»
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everycorner · 3 months
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ruminating about the bovinecorps families who lived twelve years from now. tradcow parents with pastoral visions of permanently swollen breasts and dicks, ubiquitous food, and skin effortlessly tough and coated so that the rain rolls off easy as the nails from their withdrawing fingers. in a grand sequence of prolapses, new compartments are birthed from their stomachs into their stomachs, like a ziptie pulled through itself. when the transformation is fully underway they catch trains and ferries and flights booked months in advance, on their ways to leased shrubland to live pristine.
it’s the 14:15 and you see green and white countryside through the glass, never approaching or receding, just gliding parallel to you in the opposite direction, and you know one is sat in your carriage from the rasping – their tongues come in vast and hard, blocking their tracheas, which rarely dilate at the same pace. the green of the vista dulls as the cone cells in their retinas are decimated. for them the hues of endless sunset descend: yellow, orange, red. half as many stars fill their sky, each blueshifting speck erased so that every remaining pinprick of pink-tinted light seems only to be approaching.
when they arrive they can’t understand each other’s lowing, only their own. necks stiff and perpendicular with residual humanity, they don’t inhale the urine of dumbcows. they charge the herds until they’re elsewhere. months in and they still stand in uncertain clusters with their family units, confused purecalves moving back and forth from their parents’ knees as though attached by rubber bands. and ulcerous holes soon bore into all their fresh brains because so many of them lie swollen and rotting in the alluring sweetwater rivers. before the corpses’ sturdy limbs erode, they splay outward in resolved salutes. when the sun sinks towards the hills, shadows are cast by their protruding legs and mercifully conceal their fly-infested eyes. in their expression the eyes still look human, though you don't see them below the thick, thick lashes that do nothing now to stop the insects.
[Minotaur statue adapted from photograph by George E. Koronaios CC BY-SA 4.0]
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violettduchess · 1 year
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Headcanons: a kiss in each season with 4 different princes!
A/N: So after talking a bit to the lovely @bellerose-arcana I added 4 vamp suitors too!
Word Count: 872
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Spring: Clavis / Mozart
Clavis kisses you with all the vibrancy of spring. You feel alive like a riotous blossom proclaiming its return from a long season of sleep. Wild and full of abandonment, you throw your arms around him the way Mother Nature haphazardly throws color back into the world. Every shade of green from pale jade to deep forest colors your heart. Petals practically vibrating with the force of their colors, the pinks and reds and blues and yellows, bloom within its chambers. It is the season of rebirth, of hope, of emergence. This is what you feel when you kiss him. A fountain of love that springs between your hearts, whose refreshing taste is on your lips every time you kiss.
Kissing Mozart feels like the thaw of winter as it slowly melts away, giving up its hold on the world so that spring can be born. You are Persephone, rising from the Underworld to breathe life into his wintery form. Your fingers run through pale, snowy hair, curl into its softness. Cool amethyst eyes slowly warm, ignited by the feel of you pressed against him. Color stains his cheeks like sunlight breaking through the gloom. His embrace shifts, muscles going lax, his body warming under your touch, softening and opening like a bud reaching for the sun.
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Summer: Keith / Leonardo
Keith is like a summer’s day that sneaks up on you with its intensity. He wraps his strong arms around you and you are warm and safe and the world is bright. His embrace is the brilliant blue sky wrapping itself around you. It feels expansive yet welcoming. You could lose yourself in it and be happy forever. And then he kisses you, pure and joyful, and you taste sunshine on your lips. He is the brightness of red strawberries and the sweetness of peaches. You tighten your arms around him, wanting more. As you linger in his embrace, as you chase the taste of him, heat builds inside you, waves of it slowly rolling through your veins. This is no longer a soft summer morning, but midday in all of its sweltering glory.
Summer has its halcyon days that seem to stretch on forever, where the sun lounges in the sky like a lion on the Savannah, sprawling across the day it knows it owns. Leonardo pulls you to him, almost lazily. Definitely possessively. As the sun greedily clutches the sky, he holds you against his body, his kiss a paradox: slow and heated, unhurried, the languor of the day conveyed through lips and tongue....yet these slow, decadent kisses spark a thundering through your veins, loud and wild as a sudden summer storm.
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Autumn: Leon/ Comte
Leon cups your face in his strong hands, his eyes as gold as the turning leaves, bright as a brilliant autumn sun when he looks at you, the anticipation of your kiss akin to the trees bracing themselves, whispering of the coming winter. But there is nothing cold about the feel of his mouth on yours. His lips move over yours, soft as cashmere, sweet as apple cider. His fingers trace the curve of your jaw. You melt against him, your heart soaring like a kite on the wind, a tail of soft, glowing sparks trailing across your skin. 
Comte’s touch is gentle, sure and velvet with desire. His lips brush the lightest of kisses across your collarbone, a cool autumn mist rolling across trembling fields of gold. You plunge your fingers into the silk of his hair, baring your neck to his wandering mouth. The long line of your throat echoes the wolf, head thrown back to howl its love for the beauty of a harvest moon. And when Comte raises his head, his eyes amber on fire, lupine in ferocity, you know his restraint has been pushed to its limit....and desire, with all the force of an October storm, is about to break free.
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Winter: Gilbert / Vlad
Kissing Gilbert is wrapping your arms around the chilled air, pressing your lips to the smooth, slate gray clouds and tasting the sweet shock of cold on your tongue right before it melts. His fingers trace a frosted filigree against the nape of your neck, an invisible tattoo marking you as his. Teeth, white as snow, are winter’s bite when they nip your sensitive, flushed skin. The sting leaves you red, red with the evidence of his desire, red with a bonfire growing within. His hunger consumes you, a blizzard of craving and voracity that you willingly yield to, that you blissfully allow to swallow you whole.
Vlad holds you in his arms, the soft black satin of a winter sky embracing its precious diamond stars. His beauty is the softness of snow as it floats down to earth. And just as snow covers all in a blanket of glistening white, so does he enfold his beloved in his arms, wrapping you in an embrace as soft and tender as the light in his rose-red eyes. He lowers his head, his lips brushing yours. You feel beautiful, treasured, as if the white winter moon has chosen to bathe you in its soft, argent light. You wrap your arms around him, closing your eyes, knowing he will always be your way through the darkness, your warmth in the cold. 
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Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart @kissmetwicekissmedeadly
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bumblesimagines · 10 months
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Under The Moonlight
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Part 9
Request: Yes or No
A bit short but bittersweet
~~~
Dipping his hands into the stream, he felt the water slip through his fingers and the cold jab into his skin. He sighed and winced, a sharp pain erupting in his chest. Looking over his shoulder at Harald, he motioned for the prince to get closer. Harald staggered toward him and carefully lowered himself down beside him, barely audible whimpers of pain escaping him. (Y/N) reached out, taking the chest piece off and pushing his shirt up to expose Harald's stomach. Hesitantly, Harald peeled his soaked hand away, allowing (Y/N) to inspect his wound. Swollen, red, and warm. Things that made worry slither through (Y/N).
"We should build a fire." (Y/N) suggested, pulling his hands away from Harald's bloodied skin and looking at his sister as she washed the side of her head and freed it of dried blood. Freydis nodded, using the yellow sleeve of her tunic to dry her skin.
"Not here," Harald muttered, brows furrowing slightly when (Y/N) ripped a piece of his bloody shirt and dipped it in the water. "We're too close to Kattegat. If Olaf sees smoke-"
"You are more useful alive, Harald. If this isn't taken care of, you'll die." (Y/N) cupped his hands in the stream, feeling the water caress his aching wrist. He'd been luckier than the other two, making him the designated healer for the time being. Lifting his hands from the water, he reached toward Harald and dumped the water in his hands on him. Harald violently flinched and cursed, punching the grass beside them and digging his teeth into his bottom lip. (Y/N) took the cloth he'd ripped and squeezed the water out of it before gently wiping the area around Harald's wound. 
"I don't see his use," Freydis grumbled, brushing her finger over the cut near her hairline and wincing.
"He's a warrior, Freydis. He'll be useful once he gets better." (Y/N)'s eyes flickered up to Harald's face as he carefully ran the cloth over the wound, watching his features twist and contort. "And if Olaf finds us, we can trade him for our lives."
"He is sitting right here- Fuck!" Harald howled when (Y/N) accidentally pressed too hard, nearly falling back and curling his fingers into the ground. A pained groan escaped him and he ripped out chunks of dirt and grass to prevent himself from lashing out at the man beside him. He dismissed (Y/N)'s quiet apology with a shake of his head and breathed heavily through his mouth, eyes squeezing shut.
Pulling his hand back, (Y/N) grimaced at the sight of more blood seeping from his wound. Shaking his head, (Y/N) dapped at the blood splatters on Harald's face. "Freydis, can you collect some wood for a fire?" 
"I'll look for something to eat as well." Freydis stood up and wiped her wet hands on her pants, glancing at Harald one last time before she headed deeper into the forest, the leaves and twigs crunching underneath her heavy boots.
"Olaf will be too busy feasting to bother with us, and even if he sends out scouts, it'll soon be too dark for them to see smoke. We've been traveling for a day, Harald. We'll be alright for the night." (Y/N) pointed out, looking up at the darkening sky before he turned back to Harald as he grunted his agreement. Reaching out, (Y/N) pulled the shirt up and above Harald's head, movements briefly pausing when he noticed Harald's cross. Harald kept his cross hidden from him by tucking it into his shirt, he realized. Looking away from him, he dipped the shirt into the water to rinse it of blood and then squeezed the water out of it as best as he could. He wrapped the shirt around itself before slipping it around Harald's waist and using the sleeves to snugly tie it. 
"Smart.." Harald mumbled, grazing his fingers over the makeshift bandage. Lifting his gaze up, he couldn't stop himself from staring at the blossoming purple and green around (Y/N)'s neck. Faint enough to miss it at first glance and certainty not as bad as his wrist, but the sight of it made Harald's heart twist. If he had been there alongside him, he could've saved him a world of pain. If (Y/N) hadn't gotten himself free... Harald tore his eyes away and watched the water instead, letting the thought linger in his mind. 
"You should take care of yourself." He said softly. 
"I'm fine, Harald." (Y/N) responded, dipping his hands into the water again and lifting it up to his lips to drink. It felt nice and cool against his dry mouth.
"You can hardly breathe well, your wrist looks like somebody painted it with berries, and your neck is changing color. You are not fine." 
"Maybe if you'd been there, we both would've been better." (Y/N) shook his hands and stood, leaning down to grab Harald's arm and sling it around his shoulders. Harald stood up with a soft grunt and leaned against (Y/N), instinctively pressing a hand to his injured side. Taking him toward the nearest tree, (Y/N) helped him sit back down and rest against the tree trunk. He glanced back at the grazing horses and sighed, sitting down beside Harald. 
"Why did you leave?" (Y/N) asked quietly after a beat of silence, fingers picking and pulling at the fabric of his shirt. Harald lifted a hand to his face and scratched his beard, eyes staring forward at the stream. His teeth caught his bottom lip and he sighed heavily.
"I believed if I tricked Olaf and Kåre into thinking I was on their side, I'd be able to learn of their plans and warn Kattegat ahead of time. Olaf said he knew I was lying because I'd never betray you or Leif so he didn't tell me of his plan to trick Kåre into thinking he'd attack the harbor." Harald explained hoarsely, tilting his head back to lean it against the rough bark of the tree. He turned his head slightly to gaze at his lover- or perhaps former lover- and raised his hand toward his face, using his thumb to wipe at a droplet of blood on his cheek. "And it's true. I would never betray you. I wanted to keep you safe. I wanted to prevent you from getting hurt."
"The pain I feel now was nothing compared to when I saw you with them, Harald. You told me you'd always remain at my side and then you left. You..." (Y/N) swallowed thickly, resisting the urge to lean into Harald's touch. Taking in a deep breath, and then wincing at the spark of pain, he looked at Harald. "The first person I trusted freely put a torch to my house and put a scar across my chest. I learned my lesson that day, and yet... I let myself be open with you. And you turned your back on me for a plan that resulted in Kattegat falling."
"I know. I was foolish and... I suffer the consequences." Harald sighed, dropping his hand and resting it over (Y/N)'s wrist, rubbing his fingers over the thread of the bracelet before gingerly touching his bruised wrist. His warm skin tainted by purple and green. It made his stomach twist. His aching head made his eyes squeeze shut. "I never expected to grow so... to grow so..." Harald closed his mouth, grunting softly. (Y/N)'s brows furrowed, taking note of the light sheen of sweat covering Harald's skin. 
"Harald?" (Y/N) breathed, eyes shooting down to Harald's hand as it began to tremble. "Harald? Harald, look at me!" Scrambling onto his knees and leaning over him, (Y/N) cupped his face and feel unnatural warmth under his fingertips. Harald whined softly, lips beginning to quiver. 
"(Y/N)! I found a cabin! (Y/N)!" His sister's voice echoed through the forest, the sound of her rapid footsteps approaching pulling his attention away from Harald. The wide smile on her face fell and she ran over, skidding to a stop beside them. "I-I found a cabin near here. It looks abandoned."
"We need to treat him, Freydis." The two stood, hoisting Harald up and dragging him toward the horses. They got him on one and (Y/N) secured his arms around Harald's bulky figure, mindful of his wound as he grasped the reins and followed Freydis into the forest. Harald continued to wince and grunt softly, occasionally babbling incoherently. The cabin came into view soon after. It was small and appeared to have housed only one person. Slipping off his horse, Freydis helped (Y/N) lower Harald down onto the ground and pulled him into the house, locating the cot in the corner and laying Harald over it. He'd begun to shudder and whimper, eyes cracking open only to squeeze shut again. 
"Make a fire, Freydis." (Y/N) instructed and Freydis nodded, rushing outside for a moment to collect some sticks and twigs. She quickly entered again and tossed the sticks into the fireplace, expertly sparking a fire and blowing into it, coaxing the hungry flames to grow. (Y/N) slipped his danger out of its sheath and handed it to Freydis, letting her warm the blade with the fire. As she waited for the blade to heat, (Y/N) untied the shirt and pulled it away. 
"Infection?" Freydis asked breathlessly as she stood at his side, offering him back the dagger, and stepping around the cot to take Harald's wrists into her hands and pin them down against the cot.
"Most likely." (Y/N) muttered, waiting a moment for the blade to cool a bit before abruptly pressing it down against Harald's wound, a sickly sizzling sound following. The pained scream that escaped Harald nearly made bile rise up (Y/N)'s throat but he kept the blade pressed to his skin even as Harald thrashed and cried out. Freydis struggled to maintain his arms down, occasionally losing her grip only to regain it and hold him down again. Strands of her blonde hair slipped from her braid, falling over her flushed face. Her chest heaved from exhaustion and she let out a breath of relief when (Y/N) pulled the blade away and Harald slowly calmed down. 
"(Y/N)..."
"I know, Harald. I know." (Y/N) whispered shakily, inhaling deeply as the adrenaline that had filled his veins washed away. Freydis released Harald and slumped back against the wall, brushing her hair out of her face. (Y/N) looked around the cabin, identifying the kitchen and a small wooden tub in the corner beside the fireplace. Setting the dagger aside, he walked toward the kitchen, finding dry herbs and rotten meat. Picking up a bucket, he turned toward Freydis. Without needing to hear a word, Freydis nodded and pushed herself off the wall, walking toward him and taking the bucket. 
Even with the wound dealt with, the infection still ran rampant in Harald and the chance of Harald gaining another infection still remained. Taking out all the herbs he could find, (Y/N) began picking out the ones he knew could help battle the infection and silently thanked his mother for teaching him the basics. He tried tuning out Harald's whimpers and shudders, focusing instead on churning herbs and mixing things until he made an ointment. He walked back to Harald and dipped two fingers into the ointment, wincing at the sore red skin as he applied it. Harald flinched at his touch, dry lips parting to protest softly. 
"You're a pain to deal with, Harald." (Y/N) sighed, wiping his fingers on his pants and looking over the cabin again. He worried about the owner and what they'd think if they returned and found them there. But his mind soon grew consumed by what he needed to do. Harald needed food to grow strong and combat the infection. But seeing as Kåre had summoned multiple clans, he doubted food would be abundant. The chances of a successful hunt would increase if he took Freydis with him but they risked losing Harald if he went too long without care.
His train of thought stopped when he felt a clammy hand take his and hold it. He looked down at Harald's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and trailing his gaze up to Harald's face. (Y/N) pressed his lips together and sat down on the edge of the cot, stroking Harald's hand and watching him begin to daze off. "You hurt me, Harald. But I don't want you to leave this Earth yet. You may wish to meet God and you may think me selfish for saying this... But I need you to stay here. I've lost almost everyone I care for. I can't lose you too." And then, he felt his hand be weakly squeezed. His trembling lips pulled into a small smile and he chuckled softly, leaning over to kiss the edge of Harald's lips. 
Slipping the bracelet from his wrist and tying it around Harald's neck, he leaned back and took his hand again. "I love you, Prince of Norway. Don't leave me alone again."
                    ➸        ➸       ➸       ➸       ➸       ➸
It'd been nearly two weeks since Harald had fallen ill. He spent most of his time slipping in and out of consciousness, staying awake long enough for (Y/N) to feed him and give him herbal tea before slipping into a deep slumber for hours. His fever had taken days to go down and (Y/N) made sure to keep him cool with the water Freydis would bring from the stream but it eventually went down enough for his skin to feel warm instead of blazing hot. But (Y/N) knew the three of them could only survive on rabbits, squirrels, and berries for a couple more weeks. Harald needed large amounts of food if he were to gain back his strength. So, albeit hesitantly, (Y/N) decided to go out with Freydis in search of something bigger to eat. 
(Y/N) felt nostalgic walking through the forest with his sister. Tracking down animals back in Greenland had always allowed him to spend time with his siblings, exchanging tips and chatting about anything. Leif would always take it more seriously than them, constantly hushing them and looking at them sideways when they laughed too loud. But he took them along cause without them, he'd miss them too much to be away for long. Freydis appeared to feel similarly, apparent by the peaceful look in her eyes and the small smile on her face. 
"Freydis," His sister looked at him, tilting her head slightly. "I never asked how you felt about..."
"You and Harald?"
"Yeah. I know it was a bit of a shock." (Y/N) chuckled softly, continuing to scour the ground for tracks in the dirt or scat or chunks of fur. Freydis looked forward again and shrugged her shoulders lightly. 
"Truthfully, I care little for Harald. He is a decent man and I can see why you feel the way you do for him. But he's also the type of man who will always seek power and even when he vows to live a modest life, he'll still be longing for power. He is a prince. It's in his veins to desire a crown, even if it means betraying his own kin." Freydis sighed and reached out toward him, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. "He is also a Christian. If he ever takes the throne, he will have a Christian counsel. He will be encouraged to make his people follow Christian customs and values. You know this, (Y/N)."
"Have you ever been in love, Freydis?" (Y/N) asked, placing his hand over hers and wrapping his fingers around her wrist. Freydis hummed and looked up at the clear sky, taking his words into consideration. She thought about it carefully before pursing her lips.
"There was a man back in Kattegat. His name was Koll Hjortsson. He was a believer in the Old Gods, just like us. I believe I was falling in love with him. He was very kind and intelligent. But he is in Valhalla now. And I may be carrying his child." Her words made (Y/N) freeze, head snapping in her direction and eyes widening. Freydis bit down on her bottom lip, nibbling at the skin and staring at the ground, foot lightly digging into the dirt. He immediately looked her over. Her slim figure hadn't changed and he couldn't spot anything new about her. 
"How do you know?"
"I've been feeling ill lately. At first, I thought it might've been a normal illness. But I remembered what the women say about pregnancy and it makes sense. I believe the Gods have given us gifts for our bravery and faith. Harald has been getting better and I have been blessed with a child. Perhaps... we were meant to be here, living in that cabin. When Harald grows healthy again, we can make it a proper home and in due time, we'll be dealing with a babe." Freydis smiled widely, affectionately rubbing her belly. (Y/N) stared at her as the information settled in. His sister was with child, their brother was missing, Harald was still sick, and the chances of going home grew slimmer with each passing day. 
"Gods, Freydis..." (Y/N) breathed and stepped around, arms wrapping around her waist. She laughed softly and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, resting her head against his and closing her eyes. (Y/N) squeezed her lightly and leaned back with a smile. "Come on, then. We've got to make sure your child comes strong and healthy."
They continued the search for a meal and eventually stumbled across fresh tracks. From the shape of them, they identified it as some sort of deer and began tracking it through the forest until they found it grazing in a clearing. Pulling out an arrow and drawing it, (Y/N) aimed at it and released, hearing the arrow whizz through the air before the deer cried out. It attempted to run but its efforts proved futile as it stumbled to the floor. The two siblings quickly ran toward it, ending its misery and thanking the Gods. They heaved it up by the legs and headed back to the cabin, taking minute-long breaks. Once at the cabin, they prepared the pot and ingredients before skinning the deer. 
As the stew cooked over the fire, Freydis stepped out to check on the horses while (Y/N) stirred the pot. He heard a soft grunt and turned his head, blinking as Harald propped himself onto his elbows and struggled to sit up. Inhaling sharply, (Y/N) set the spoon aside and walked toward Harald, helping him sit up properly. Harald winced and stretched a bit, hearing a soft pop come from his back. He tiredly looked over the cabin as (Y/N) dipped a small cup into the water bucket. He lifted it to Harald's lips, satisfied to see him drink without difficulty.
"How are you feeling? We're cooking and-"
"I love you too," Harald spoke hoarsely and reached out to place a hand on his cheek, a small smile appearing on his face. "And I'm never leaving you. Not again."
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chogiwow · 3 months
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there were shortcuts into heaven through your eyes ; lee heeseung
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pairing: heeseung x gn!reader
wc: 0.7k+ warnings: allusions to mildly toxic relationships, escape from reality, hinted fwb
a/n: i’m projecting the kind of love i want. how embarrassing. (also hi, this will likely flop, but i had to write for seung bc this fit him so well :>)
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heeseung didn't have the slightest idea what it was, but he saw that it was a version of home.
and that was the extent to which heeseung, in his entirety, was completely taken by you. he wasn’t naive, he knew what it was that you shared; what he was to you and what you were to him. but just like scars worn old and woven into his skin, he let it become a familiar patch of singularity he could divulge in.
you were never just partners; never just mere significant others. while it was difficult to put into mere words, the vastness of this peculiar tenderness was so wild that it was a beautiful blue flame which burned heeseung but beckoned to him so alluringly.
lovers, you were, who were soft and intimate even in the mundane moments of life; of the gentle squeeze on the shoulder when one passed by another, of the buried head against the crook of your neck, of the absence of the awkwardness in the face of vulnerability, of never having to worry about things ending.
but lovers you were indeed, lustful and harsh at times, raw and burning at others and the intimacy did not exist in the pockets of those moments between the mundane and the serene. like a 35 mm film, glazed with streaks and grains, your story rumbled through like patchy frames, lovers embracing each other with gazes across the room privy only to the two.
and there was no fear of an end; how can one fear an end to something they do not know the beginning of. no feeling is final until it has been felt and dealt with.
in the crevices of the early morning, when the sun barely kissed the horizon, when your limbs still reeked of each others’ scent, heeseung would think of worries of the future. of how the resolution of ‘giving’ his heart to someone had gradually turned to having it taken from him with a gentle caress of lean fingers across his nape, the unhurried press of lips against each other, the urge to linger a kiss, the effortless act of fitting against each other, the moment of respite in the warmth of limbs.
lovers you were, bodies so synchronised, it was a dance without symphony but oh so beautifully you glided.
just regular lovers, not the spotlight of a performance, never the main characters; silently existing in the corner of the theatre, touching, feeling, being in that moment – existing like the insignificant trees in the backdrop of a painting, the greens and yellows blending, the sky never brilliantly glowing but with its own characteristic clouds. never the ones with whole chapters devoted to them, never the ones people envied, never the ones who were extraordinary gems. just quiet lovers; touching, feeling, being in that moment.
lovers you were, but did you love each other? you enjoyed the idea of each other, of being wrapped around each other, of being together.
heeseung would confess to you in the depths of the nights shared, the mere idea of your existence being one of awe, of a being he had always longed for to be etched into the subconscious part of his soul that had come to life and made itself known in the form of you. you with your ordinary face, your ordinary life and your simple feelings.
and lovers under the cityscape, bathed in glowing blues and reds of a world outside that did not care about either of you, you would paint across his skin with colour dipped brushes – meadows of flowers, silver winged fishes and soaring butterflies. you would paint long sleeves of leafless branches across his arms, vines of creepers twining around your legs, little stars down your jaws; feel him shudder under your touches and when the day would break, the only memories of the night would be washed down the drain, faint patches of darker ink scarring his limbs.
he was but a muse to you; an ordinary canvas you could paint. an extension of his soul in which you were etched like carvings on wood. but did you love him?
but heeseung didn't have the slightest idea what it was, and yet he saw that it was a version of the home he had been looking for; for a world that did not care about you, for a world he did not care about, for only your crooked brushstrokes across his skin and his shuddered breaths.
and heeseung called it a version of this feeling; through your eyes the afterlife, the morning glory, the gentleness of belonging. through your eyes, a gateway to his home.
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