#to the poison named loneliness chapter one

[samodivaa]

Deny the truth,set my world on fire (Part 3)

Bucky Barnes x Reader (Winter Soldier x Reader)

He knew that she was having an affair...she denies, but the love marks on her body are still there. She can't tell him the truth, it will break him - the Winter Soldier is indeed inside of him, fucking her at night and Bucky doesn't remember. Part 1⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ Part 2 ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆* Part 4⋆*･ﾟ:⋆* Music --- Vivaldi - Winter (L'inverno) Quotes - Fyodor Dostoevsky └── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘ Warnings - heavy ANGST, mention of murder, non-con

Listened to it on repeat until i finished the chapter. Enjoy. ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ Calm, boring days, an unknown future, and an irregular sleep, the days pass and nothing new. The absence of knowledge is the presence of paranoia – she crumbles mentally. It's been happening for so long – it is all that is happening, over and over again. She is full of fear, leading to feeling grief. Her life, a tragedy, a land of devastation and destruction. All the bright, precious things of Bucky fade so fast – in the end, memories are all she keeps. It makes her tremble to think back, to remember how she thought their life would be. Her greatest regret – believing so much in their future. She used to build dreams about Bucky and now she can’t believe if she will ever do it again - she treads the icy path between Spring and Winter, slowly and cautiously, for fear of tripping and falling into the snow again, for fear of losing her dearest Spring. She feels the chill north winds coursing through her home, despite the locked and bolted doors…this is Winter, which nonetheless brings it's own delight – after Winter, Spring always comes next.

She spend so much time in my head and in her heart that she forgets to live in her body, not hearing someone entering.

“Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.”

She blinks at that line of the book, her mind lingering once again to Bucky…but when is a monster not a monster – oh, when you are the reason, it has become mangled…she remembers when those eyes said love loudly, now these walls so quietly shift towards her as he leans on the door frame stealthy, still not alerting her. She puts the book aside, deciding to wash her dishes – her vast inner solitude poisoning her whole existence, there is no dignity in loneliness. The worst moment, when sitting alone at dinner, she has forgotten the ocean eyes, the depth of his laugh, it all had faded into into the past, where memories are silent.

Winter brushes his hands along the hardwood of the door, tentatively waiting for a sign that she had noticed him in the doorway. Three knocks follow on the wooden frame and her shoulders are already quavering, he once again craved a bullet with her name on it, burning Bucky down and in the ashes left behind – coming to burn her.

She glances at the door behind her as she holds her arms wrapped around herself before turning around to face him. Winter seems so human with his genuine smile, nodding slowly when his presence is finally acknowledged. Rage explodes inside, fire rushing over her skin. Winter’s face is flooding with color by then, and she finds that the sight makes her feel refreshingly nostalgic – the shades of Bucky somehow showing.

Dem light plays upon his face, revealing gleaming eyes, a mouth pulled into a grin. Stillness wraps her up in a cold embrace, a chill running down her body as he speaks.

„I warned you and you didn’t listen“

Winter shifts closer, caging her to the counter.

"Oh no…“ she whispers brokenly.

She brakes into a sob she could not contain, hands wrestled free from his grasp and worked their way to shield herself. He grips her hips, drawing her close, and roughly presses his mouth to the soft, swollen lips. Soldat longed for her for so long, dreamed of it as one would of an impossible journey to the moon, and now? How would he ever let her go?

The winters are becoming longer, very monotonous. Spring does come eventually, but it feels so short, looking back – it is not much more than a coupe of days.

He steps back, his fist unclenching, urging her to see – Walker’s work badge. All of her paranoia which played complicated possible outcomes - what an utterly incomprehensible thing has happened - without delay, Winter plucks every vibrating string in her mind by choosing to mock her.

„I warned you“

„You fucking monster what have you done?! I hate you so much I wish they never created you! I want you gone so much it hurts.“

His heart becomes a shriveled rose, poisoned with death and petals fall with every word from her mouth, sending him into a bottomless pit of anger.

„I will tell him, I will tell Bucky the tru-“

If once one has recognized the truth and seen it, you know that it is the truth and that there is no other and there cannot be, whether you are asleep or awake.

The melodious ringing sounds of Bucky’s dog tag chimes deep into her soul – as he holds them in front of her – as if a funeral bell is ringing, pealing for one a last farewell.

„Bucky is no longer“ dressed in all black, he is giving the eulogy „We can bury him together“ he says with the intend to drop them on the floor, but she catches them.

Up in her conscience, it's making her nauseous, she shifts backwards momentarily, but there is no where to run. Instinctively, Winter tightens his hold on her waist, though he neither pushes her away nor pulls her closer – just grounds her in place when she tries to slide to the floor.

„No…it can’t be, I don’t believe it“ comes her unenlightening, despondent response.

„He never picked up the phone that day. It was me, doll“

Now it all began to fall into place. A poor, beautiful, tragic fool - he had thrown her hope away on a moment's false illusion, and she was paying dearly for it. With her hope, her love, her soul.

„No, you are lying“ she whispers brokenly, her voice trembling. She blinks at him, her eyes enormous pools of misery with wetness clinging to the lashes and collecting in the tender indentation above her top lip.

„Stop crying “ he licks the hollow of her throat. "It is getting annoying“ a long, slow lick up her throat "…цветок“ (flower)

And if it frightens and torments her to think of Bucky and the simplicity and silence that accompanies him – she still believes in the illusion that he is there, it’s life-giving.

His left hand slides up gently to cup her chin as he leans in and kisses her once more, and with all her strength that she could find, she slaps him across the face, forcing it to turn to the side. He murmurs her name low. She whispers „no’s“. Winter presses himself close, giving a hollow bark of laughter as his angry gaze searches hers. He feels the trembling woman in his arms, her breathing shallow and uneven, clearly overcome with emotions.

„Тебе лучше, моя куколка?“ (Feeling better, my doll?)

„Don’t you dare call me that“

From the desert of Bucky’s abandoned love, he dares mock her pain. Winter stares her down, watching every reaction as his hands memorizes her curves, groaning, his fingers clawing at her back and quite possibly tearing her shirt.

Bucky dreams - the trees, stripped of all foliage, are white and bone-dry, twisted and curved like desiccated skeletons. Smoke drifts up from the scorched soil that crunches under his feet. In the distance, there’s a hill where, on the other side, y/n stands waving at him. He quickens his steps. She is calling for him, her voice distant, desperate.

The smoke beneath his feet thickens, he is choking as he he is trying to find her.

The fog begins to thin.

He is no longer walking on stone or dirt, but on show.

Winter of the world has come, and her body is lying on the ground, thin layer of snow covering it.

He wakes up, covered in sweat, looking around and everything is so unfamiliar, it’s feasting off his fragile and confused being.

– and there she lies – – not dressed in snow, but in white sheets.

In the deepening grasp of reality, Bucky has no choice but to recognize the trembling in his own heart. A trembling ocean underneath his eyelids. The veil of sadness and shame – causes him to scream as he holds her body, awaiting her warmth.

„Y/n? Baby…what-t, where, baby come on wake up“

„Baby, please wake up, Jesus what happened…I can’t remem-“

But love unexplained is clearer.

She is still clinging on something, still clinging on hope – the dog tags – it seems that she wanted to pour out all her heart into his heart in hopes of waking him up – she loved him, she shall love him always, loving him more than life itself. “Much unhappiness has come into the world because of bewilderment and things left unsaid.” PART 4 ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Tag list @kaz11283 @montyrokz @queenashen @pandabearrrrrrr @depressed-gays-of-marvel @introverbatim @chocolatelovemusic @happinessinthebeing @goodkittyspost @venting402 @tilltheendofthelinepal9950 @lovelywritinglady @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @msoldier

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky angst #bucky x you #winter solider imagine #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier fanfiction #winter soldier x y/n #winter soldier x you #bucky x female yn #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky barnes angst #heavy angst #PROUD OF MYSELF

[sanctuary1988]

~Handsome Stranger | 1 | Gwi

French: /the petals of love/

Pairing: Gwi x fem! noble! Reader

Summary: A heartless vampire falls in love for the first time in centuries of loneliness. Passion, secrets, betrayal and love drown the royal palace. Will your love for Gwi prevail through time or will it wither away like a fallen rose petal? Maybe love was his punishment, maybe love was your salvation. Or wasn't it a curse to you both? Because, who can beat a race against time? Who can love in the dark? Who can love without truth? After all, even the most beautiful flower will wither away and end in ashes of time, remembered only by the one who cherished her the most.

Warnings: strangers to lovers? fluff, angst, minor injury, blood, this is a light chapter tbh. Mentions of marriage, talks about arranged marriage, age gap (huge), historical! AU, royal! AU?, cannon copilant, (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 2.3k words

A/N: Guys, I have fallen in love. In honour of my new obsession called Lee Soo Hyuk I'll write this story and hopefully many more! I'll warn you, this story will get darker as it progresses and will follow canon although it is settled before the series so the characters from The Scholar Who Walks The Night will not appear in this fic (apart from Gwi, obviously). This is some sort of a prequel so I hope you will enjoy it!

I'll update when I have time, dears. I just started my business and I'm also working part-time while also going to college at night so, yeah. I'll do my best so please let me know your thoughts! Happy reading everyone :)

Gwi looked at her with an intriguing gaze, eyes sharp under the candles' light.

"I would not hesitate to let someone as clever as you take the throne. You remind me of a woman I used to know. That woman was clever and ambitious like you."

Hye-Ryeong swallowed, testing the waters with her next question.

"Did you care for her?"

Gwi looked at the distance, as if his mind was transported back to his memories from centuries ago.

"I had feelings for her. I had never cared for a mortal woman before."

Some tension filled the cave, the flickering candles allowing soft light to illuminate the place.

"What happened to that woman?"

Asked Hye-Ryeong once more, wanting to know if there was only another small crumb of the vampire's past who sat in front of her.

"I killed her."

Was his answer, the words came tumbling from his lips without resistance at all but there was a heaviness in his voice that made a tremble travel down her spine. Gwi looked up at her, his eyes swarming with the memory of his distant love.

"I could not help it. She had my child without my knowledge."

Hye-Ryeong looked at the man before her, with almost sympathy in her gaze. Almost. The idea of him killing someone he loved made her stomach twist with emotions she wasn't quick enough to grasp.

"A child between a vampire and a human being is said to kill vampires."

His voice sounded deeper than usual, dripping with the disgrace of his actions.

"What happened to the child?"

She asked in an almost shy way, for a moment fearing what his reaction to such an inquiry would be.

"The child likely died since it occurred over 200 years ago."

Gwi looked down at the drawing he was making, the image of his love made memories he had long since buried in his mind resurface, opening scars and bleeding with poisonous remorse for what he had done to the only woman he had loved in his long life and who also loved him back.

200 years ago.

Darkness fell over the village, clouds covered the moon, not allowing any kind of light to illuminate the dark city. The royal palace was silent, as if it were desolate. No soul walked through the gardens, no oil was being burned. Everything was still. Everything swam in a dark sea.

Except for one soul who walked the royal grounds as if he owned it. In a way, he did. Gwi, was his name. A name that few knew but all to whose existence lived in their minds feared to no tremor.

He walked among the night. Watched over the village. His domain. His kingdom. For he had ruled over the most powerful man in Goryeo for years. Through generation over generation of royal princes. He ruled it all. He owned it all. He had it all to his reach, everything a human would ever want in their miserably short life he had conquered it.

He paraded through the still gardens, a soft yet cold breeze made his silky dark hair fly softly. A sigh escaped his lips, the full moon was approaching and that only meant he'd have to go hunt once more. Like every month.

Gwi halted in his steps when he smelled the sweetest aroma he had ever felt in his astonishingly long life. His feet walked with a mind of their own, going toward such sweetness he smelled through the air and made his eyes cloud with crimson desire.

Blood.

That was what he smelled. The substance that he needed, craved to live. Blood was life to humans, and it also meant life to vampires like himself. The smell got stronger, he felt his heart beat in his chest wildly in anticipation.

However, he had to stop himself before approaching the source of such an electable aroma. Gwi hid behind some bushes, his curiosity and intrigue getting the best of him as he watched a young woman crouched down on the ground, a finger between her lips as she sucked her own blood from her small injury.

You had left your room late at night in order to find some peace among the darkness. Your mind was troubled, so was your heart. You've had little time for yourself the last few months, leaving the night as your only free time of your day. As ironic as it sounded.

While walking the large palace grounds, you encountered a small hidden garden filled with beautiful roses. In the midst of your curiosity, you bent down and picked one, then another and another. Already thinking that you could put it in a nice vase back in your room when you returned. But a hiss escaped your lips as a thorn teared at your flesh and blood oozed out of the small wound.

You placed the rustic bouquet on the ground and sucked on the injury, trying to stop the bleeding. However, a sudden noise made you halt in your actions. You looked around, the little lamp you had brought with yourself did little to illuminate your surroundings.

You knew you shouldn't be out of your room alone, especially at night. The warning of your father was still fresh on your memory from the first time he caught you leaving the safety of your bedroom. With quick movements you grabbed your lamp and walked hastily back to your room, leaving the roses behind. Completely unaware of the vampire watching over your retreating figure as his eyes held curiosity for that beautiful woman with a delighting scent.

Days passed and he was still mesmerised by that woman he saw in the gardens the other night. Gwi sat on his throne, daytime illuminated the city yet he was forced to remain in his underground palace. A beautiful construction between the darkness. His own paradise.

The chief counselor was suddenly in his presence. The old man bowed down slowly at the vampire before greeting him with irony dripping from his words.

"My Lord, thank you for allowing me this audience with you. I am truly honoured to be in your presence."

Gwi sighed, already bored with this interview as he signalled him to start saying what he wanted to say.

"My Lord, you know everything that occurs in these palace walls. Every gossip and truth is delivered to you first."

"Get on with it."

The Chief Counselor gulped, his hands tangling in front of him to stop them from fidgeting before he spoke once more.

"As you may know, my daughter has been ready for marriage for years now but I would like your wise opinion, My Lord. She possesses an extraordinary beauty and I know her marriage would be beneficial to the council."

Now that picked Gwi's interest. He leaned forward on his throne, his eyes piercing as he looked directly to the Chief Counselor's intimidated eyes.

"Who do you have in mind, Counselor Lee?"

The old man lifted his head in an almost challenging way that Gwi didn't like at all.

"Kang Ju Won, My Lord."

Gwi hummed to himself, as if he were genuinely interested in this marriage. Perhaps a part of him was as Jun Won had been rebellious against Gwi's orders. Not enough to get him killed yet... but still something that the vampire despised with all his being for loyalty is the most important thing in the world, even more so than love.

"Your beautiful daughter shouldn't go to waste with an old man like him but I will not deny how advantageous that marriage will be for me. You can start the preparations for the wedding, Counselor Lee."

The latter bowed down, not being able to suppress the smile that stretched over his aged features.

"I will, My Lord. Thank you for giving your consent, your opinion is the only thing that matters to me."

Gwi looked at him with an emotionless gaze, his sharp features looking even sharper as the candles around him flickered ever so softly. He gestured for the counselor to leave and he did so silently. Leaving the vampire alone with his thoughts once more in his enormous underground palace.

He didn't know why he had left his palace that night. The full moon was tomorrow, his senses and instincts were sharper than ever but Gwi found himself walking through the gardens like a couple of days ago when he saw the mysterious woman of the roses and sweet scent.

A scent he hadn't been able to forget, in fact it had impregnated into his memories and something within him prompted him to search for her once more.

He halted in his steps when he heard a soft sound coming from around some bushes. Gwi turned around, curious as ever so as to know the source of the sniff-like sound. He rounded a corner and was met with the same woman from the other night. He looked at the way she was crouched in front of the same roses, her elegant dress puffing around her yet this time she was crying.

"A rose never cries, let alone at night."

You gasped at the sudden voice that spoke next to you. It startled you, causing you to fall from your crouching position directly into the ground. You looked up only to spot a tall and handsome man dressed in dark robes with pale skin and long, dark hair. His voice, deep as the ocean, made you shiver as you found yourself under his intense gaze.

"Who are you?"

The man before you tilted his head to the right ever so slightly, the motion made you gulp for some strange reason. He was astonishingly beautiful with a mysterious aura around him that told you to get away but at the same time pulled you to not take a step back and leave his presence.

"Why are you crying?"

He completely disregarded your question, not that you noticed as you were enthralled into his amazing looks and that voice of his... it made you tingle all over your body. It almost seemed as if he had hypnotised you. Perhaps he did. At the lack of your response he crouched down, taking in your features with his sharp and dark eyes that looked like he held a starless galaxy in his irises.

You sniffled, wiping the remaining tears from your cheek with the back of your hand as you broke eye contact with the handsome stranger, eyes setting on your lap as you spoke once more.

"My father is going to marry me off."

Gwi sat down, he didn't know why he did it. He didn't know why he was there, let alone why he engaged in conversation with the beautiful woman of the magnificent natural perfume.

"What a lucky man for he'll get a beautiful wife."

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked at him, nearly gasping at the proximity.

"I don't want to get married. Not yet at least."

He lifted an eyebrow at your open statement, at your honesty despite you both being strangers. But something about that honesty stirred a part of him he didn't want to admit he had in the first place.

"Who is your father, petal?"

The rumbling of his voice was as deep as thunder. It made you swallow as you looked into his eyes.

"Lee Beom Seok."

Gwi had to hide the surprise from his face at the name that left your lips. So you were the counselor's daughter. Now it kind of made sense for your father to want to marry you off for you were, indeed, rather beautiful. No other mortal woman has ever been that mesmerising to the vampire before in his long life. That is until you came.

"Do you really wish for the marriage to be cancelled?"

He said in that thunderous voice of his you couldn't help but nod to answer him, not finding words to speak your own desire. Gwi sighed before he stood up while you watched his movements, elegant on its own.

"I can make that happen, petal."

You sniffled at his words. Your hands fidgeted with the ornament on your dress as you looked up at the handsome stranger who offered you a way out of the nightmare you were going to be forced to live in.

"I can stop your marriage from happening, that is if you come with me."

He extended his hand toward you, a silent invitation to take it. Take it and free yourself from this unwanted marriage but, what other chain going with him will put around your neck? You had learned the hard way that nothing is free in this cruel world and right now, you don't have much of a choice but to accept the last straw of hope given to you.

Your hand found home in his and Gwi pulled you up to your feet with a soft yet delicate motion. He wasn't going to admit it, let alone speak it out loud but... in a very deep part of his dead heart, he liked the feeling of your smaller hand in his large palm.

"You made the right choice, petal. Now tell me, what is your name?"

You felt how your heart quickened in your chest at the intensity in his dark eyes. You looked up and spoke in that voice he was starting to really like.

"Lee (y/n), My Lord."

Gwi smirked, pulling you to his side as he began walking back to his underground palace with your hand still clasped in his.

"From now on, you serve me, sweet petal. You are mine now."

January/28/2024

Drabbles are open!

~ Masterpost

#lee soo hyuk #gwi x reader #kdrama #sanctuary1988 #scholar who walks the night #gwi #lee soo hyuk characters #vampire #the scholar who walks the night #kdrama series #korean drama #korean actor #kactor #gwi x reader fluff #gwi x reader angst #les pétals d'amour

[the-heartlines]

who is the lamb? who is the knife?

| rhaegon & daemyra | e. 1/? [4K] | dd:dne

“It was a game we grew up playing, your father and I—to pierce the maiden, spoiling and spilling her first blood on the victor’s sword. With or without the maiden’s consent.”

chapter 1: blessed with beauty and rage

Everything turned to ash in her mouth, since she found out the truth of what it meant to be a Targaryen; a she-dragon, with fire roaring through her veins. She hadn’t spoken to her uncle for nearly a fortnight, too angry and bewildered that he hadn’t told her the entirety of what blossoming into womanhood meant for her, a dragon princess.

Of how her sixteenth name day, would be the day the little freedom she was given, would be snatched wholly from her. That her body would no longer belong to her, but be given up to the victor who was worthy enough to spill the blood of others, upon their sword, and win her as their spoils.

“It was a game we grew up playing, your father and I—to pierce the maiden, spoiling and spilling her first blood on the victor’s sword. With or without the maiden’s consent.”  Her uncle had so crudely voiced, suggestively smirking at the word sword. He had been drunk, the wine loosening his tongue and the lewd words spilling out of him like an impulsive confession; the truth. Her uncle’s eyes also flashed with something unknown to her, dark violet and glinting mysteriously—a once tempered fire, now ablaze with how she’d once seen him look at whores with, but never her. 

Never her, his naive niece. 

And that’s when Rhaenyra slapped him, hard, across the scar on his cheek—the one she used to caress lovingly, leaving him to his empty cups and loneliness as his companion.

(That’s when Daemon Targaryen, the rogue prince, felt the dragon princess’ vengeful tears and teeth gnashing and gnawing at his insides for the first time, tearing him to shreds.)

Because this was no innocent child’s game, it was her future. The outcome of the ritual—the hunt for her—would dictate which man’s poison would taint her Targaryen womb.

Her uncle was her favorite person in the world, up until that fateful moment. He never lied to her, never let her see that side of him, full of lust and vulgarity. He was always pure and truthful with her. She could learn to accept this new licentious version of her uncle, but Rhaenyra couldn’t understand why he had hid this painstakingly raw secret from her, of all things. 

It made her blood boil, seethe with rage that the person she most revered—who was more of a father to her than her own—could keep this from the niece he claimed to love more than himself, like his own daughter.

Her father never told her of her fate, being his first-born daughter. He was too sickly, with his mind half-gone and his body half-decayed. The only thing comforting to him, that could fill the hole left in his heart-ever since her mother’s death over five years ago, was milk of the poppy. The only time he recognized her was when he called her by her mother’s name, and all it did was make her somber and heart broken. Rhaenyra had ceased visiting him sometime ago, letting him wither away, like flowers she’d placed near his sickbed. The only evidence of her existence to him. 

And then there was him, her half-brother, the first born son, eldest, and heir. She had heard stories about him, horrifying tales of how he tore his way from the deepest depths of the seven hells, to tear his way out of his mother, her father’s first wife and queen. She heard stories of how he was brash and a brute—a beast.

Alas, Rhaenyra knew those were all lies because he was the most playful and patient with her. He was always attentive and affectionate towards her, as all brothers should be; playing the role of the brave dragon knight, saving the helpless maiden princess, desperate to be gallantly rescued from a beast.

He would sweep her up in his arms afterwards and laugh and hold onto her close; almost too tight at times. Especially when their uncle would make an unexpected appearance, interrupting their games. 

Aegon’s smile would fade the moment their uncle called her ‘little niece’. His eyes glittering with flecks of fire the moment her fingertips touched Daemon’s and plucked her from her brother’s arms. He never objected or said anything, when she obeyed like a dutiful princess, leaving with their uncle for her daily lessons. But over the years, she saw the fire blaze even brighter, his jaw clenching harder; the hold of his grasp on her getting tighter and tighter, like he would permanently lose her.  

Rhaenyra can still fill the ghost of his fingertips digging small bruises into the flesh of her forearm from a fortnight ago. When the last lessons with her uncle, that she looked forward to every afternoon, had turned her stomach sour. She was in shock as her uncle told her the deepest darkest secret, his words wounding her with every drunken truth.

She had run from room to her elder brother’s chambers; the dormant dragoness in her waking—weeping and wrathful. 

“Why, why, why?!” She had seethed into his chest, tears soaking his clothing, as he held her and stroked over the skin of her neck, softly. He had held her gently and carefully, like she would break. Aegon just let her cry until there were no more tears left to shed; until exhaustion had overwhelmed her. “Everything will be okay, Rhaenyra…you’ll see, sweet sister.” And with a lingering kiss to her feverish forehead, slight touch to her cheek, he left her to sleep off the mind numbing nightmares she just learned of. 

And what hurt most of all is she had believed him. But he had lied to her just the same as their uncle, but in a more sinister way. 

They had kept her in Aegon’s bedchambers, no longer allowed to leave. It was for her protection, her handmaid's had whispered to her in between bathing her and bringing her food. Anytime she questioned the maids or guards about demanding to know why, they held their tongues; terrified that they would lose them if they confessed too much.

 But she knew the truth. 

They were afraid of her—her uncle and brother. Afraid she’d run away on dragon back, escaping her fate with Syrax beneath her, flying towards her freedom. 

The two men, most important to her, who despised each other, conspired together to keep her hidden away like some precious prize.

The pretty maiden princess, helpless, with no gallant knight or prince to save her. Because her gallant dragon knight and dragon prince—who were beasts after all—were the ones to keep her locked up. 

And then the final day before her sixteenth name day, they’d brought her a gift from her uncle and brother. It was specifically made for the first ritualistic hunt, forged in Old Valyria with dragon fire and a gifted smith’s skill. It was a device made of Valyrian steel, meant to protect her womanhood from wandering hands, until the feast was over, and the hunt began. 

Rhaenyra had bitten her cheek, drawing blood when the Maester had fastened the metal around her waist. But when she felt the cool kiss of the steel pressed against her naked mound, she gasped from the sudden contact—nothing besides her hand and small clothes ever being this close to that part of her. 

He had taken a key and locked her into it, smiling. “I will tell Prince Daemon and Prince Aegon what an obedient young lady you've been, princess. They will be most grateful to hear it.” 

She just glared at him, wanting to strike out and scratch him, sending her dear princesanother kind of message. But when she shifted her legs, the burden between her thighs stroked against her cunt, causing her to bite back a moan this time. So Rhaenyra nodded and forced a smile, feeling slick and sticky against the steel, unable to do anything, caged and powerless once more.

When morning came, she had barely slept, dreading seeing all of them. The suitors that would stare at her hungrily, inspect her like some rare animal. Before they became animals themselves, chasing her through the woods, tearing at each other’s throats to have their taste of her—to hunt her and skin her like some sacred and scared deer. 

All Rhaenyra could see was blood and dirt covering the beautiful dress that presently adorned her body. The lustrous moon-hued fabric contouring to her curves, a hint of soft breasts peeking out from the top of the dress. Breasts that had been peaked all night, her nipples hardened like little red rubies from the pressure between her thighs that she received no relief from. 

Her hair was brushed and braided to perfection. Her violet eyes were lined in dark kohl, her cheeks and lips flushed red-rose from warmth that flooded her and the constant gnawing on her lips. 

Rhaenyra had barely recognized herself as she gazed into the mirror; a woman grown and flowered—blossomed to perfection. 

The last thing her handmaidens did for her was anoint her in the fragrant oils of sandalwood and jasmine. 

Her uncle and brother’s favorite scents.

The door between her and the throne room was the last barrier Rhaenyra had to overcome. She could hear laughter and loud muffled conversations. She clenched her fist and steadied her heartbeat, inhaling and exhaling in anticipation. 

When they had announced her entrance, she walked through The Great Hall with her head held high, with all the grace and grandeur a princess might have. But her eyes ignored the tables of men seated below the throne; searching for the only two men she’d ever cared enough to constantly look up to in awe.

They were seated in the middle at a table, dressed in almost matching black and red with the dragon accents emblazoned with scarlet red rubies. Red rubies that mirrored the necklace wrapped tight around her throat and dainty jewels fixed into her silver braids—bleeding stars scintillating under candlelight. 

Fire and blood.

Her uncle’s eyes were the first she saw, dark circles outlining them. His long hair was adorned in war braids to match hers, but he just gaped at her, the dull violets igniting, clinging desperately to her lilac eyes, afraid of losing her again. She dropped her gaze from his defiantly, her belly fluttering, her pulse beating against the heavy steel between her thighs once more. His sword hand reached to rest on Dark Sister’s hilt, but it was just the ghost of it. There were no weapons allowed until the actual hunt—so he flexed his hand and clenched it into a fist at his side instead. Good, she thought, let him get a little taste of what it means to be powerless. 

“Welcome, princess,” a warm voice interrupted, her eyes immediately finding his pretty pale purples. Eyes that were shining with liveliness and mirth, bright like his smile. A vast difference from her uncle’s. “Welcome to your glorious name day feast, dear sister. You are no longer a child, but a woman, grown and flowered.” The words sent a shiver down her spine. His silver hair was half up, two braids joining to one, haloing him like a golden sun. It made her breath catch in her throat, her veins alight with righteous rage at how resplendent he looked. 

“Yes, welcome, niece.” She heard a hoarse voice echo softly, strained. 

They both bowed towards her, a truce offered up with their heads downcast in respect regarding her. Rhaenyra paused for a moment, wanting to spring forward and tear out their braids, for they were not worthy of them. Instead, she stood up even straighter, curtsying slightly towards them, refusing to bend her head an inch downwards.

She now took her seat, between the two of them, more than an arms length away from her. 

Because everyone could only look at her, not touch her, nor taint her until one of them hunted and claimed her. 

One she hoped was neither of them, to spite and spur her uncle and brother’s dominance over her.

A servant filled her cup full of blood-cherry wine, while the Great Hall was silent, waiting for her. She raised the cup to her lips and took a drink, draining every last bit, some of the crimson spilling from the side, onto her fingers. 

She found her uncle’s eyes staring at her wine stained lips. “Rhaenyra…I think you should eat–” she slowly stuck her fingers into her mouth, sucking on them rudely, licking the sweet liquid from the tips. “Oh, this wine is divine,” she held up her cup, “I would have another, if it pleases you, brother?” She turned towards Aegon—the future heir—her saccharine smile and words were dripping with poisoned courtesy, ignoring her uncle and the raw ache stirring low in her stomach. 

Daemon grasped his cup and choked down the wine like a man dying of thirst. She heard him cough, demanding his cup be refilled, angrily. She smiled, pleased she was still able to get under his skin; an insect crawling and burrowing beneath his resolve.

“What would please me, sweet Rhaenyra, is if you would heed our uncle’s words and fill your belly with something other than wine.” Her smile faded quick as a flame dying out. Since when has it been our uncle? She had truly underestimated their combined power over her. It made her want to get up and run…but there would be enough time for that today. “You need to eat plenty, to keep up your strength and resilience for your name day hunt, dear sis.” Aegon’s chuckle joined the blood pounding in her ears, as he sipped his wine. She wanted to reach over and slap him—this stranger—making him spill red all over his regal attire, ruining that stupid smirk now gracing his face. 

But she cast her eyes downward to her empty plate, feeling hollow, as Daemon commanded that her cup be filled with only water for the rest of the feast.  

Commanded. Was this what her life would be? Condemned to a life of obedience? Constant rules and being told what to do? 

The food placed in front of her was decadent, filling her nostrils with its mouth watering scent, but she chose to eat some bread, cheese, and pomegranate seeds—ignoring the lemon cake, her favorite. 

Kohl lined lilacs scanned the room taking in the suitors who would chase her, injuring or killing each other, to capture and have her.

Her stomach was a pit of tangled snakes, coiling within her like cords of dread; hissing angrily and ready to strike at a moment’s notice. 

House Lannister. House Greyjoy. House Dorne. 

All of the men were laughing, drinking, and feasting together. Joyful and jovial. A rush of panic spiked through her and she swallowed, suddenly feeling parched, lightheaded from the wine. She closed her eyes and gulped down the water, sensing a vast presence bowed in front of her.

“Princess Rhaenyra,” a rich voice, laced with warmth, greeted her. 

“Ser Harwin?” She gasped and gawked at him, barely recognizing him, with his long dark curly hair and broad shoulders no longer concealed by gold cloak’s armor. He had grown bigger, stronger since the last time she’d seen him. A throb pulsated low in her belly when he smiled at her, making her cunt clench. “Will you be joining the hunt?” A small part of her hoped he was, for he was always kind towards her. He would be gentle with her, she knew deep down inside. Her stomach fluttered with the possibility.

Next to her, she heard her uncle snort and roll his eyes, as his wine was refilled once more. “Only those worthy of a Targaryen womb are permitted to hunt, sweet niece.” His eyes were narrowed threateningly at Harwin, as he took a long sip of his wine.

Rhaenyra saw Harwin visibly stiffen and nostrils flare, breathing out deeply. “It’s true what your uncle says, princess…” He gave her a sad smile. “I would have been honored to join the hunt for your hand…for you, alone, are worthy enough.”

Rhaenyra’s breath caught in her throat, the sincerity in his voice striking a chord in her heart, feeling respected for the first time in a long time.

It made fresh dewy nectar gather between her already sticky thighs. She squirmed in her seat, her eyes fluttering slightly.

“Enough, Strong!” Daemon rose from the table, his voice venomous, knocking over the cup of wine, the scarlet spilling onto the floor, pooling like blood. 

A speckle of red stained Rhaenyra’s snow white dress. Why must he ruin everything? A river of rage scorched through her veins, finally roaring to life. 

“Mayhaps, dear uncle, you should heed your own words and eat something to soak up the wine. You wouldn’t want to drunkenly stumble and hurt yourself…before my hunt even begins, now would you?” Rhaenyra’s fire blazed, burning hot on her cheeks, matching her uncle’s reddened hue, starting to creep down his neck. 

Harwin smirked at her words, clearing his throat. “I apologize if I spoke too boldly about the princess, Prince Daemon. I only speak the truth. I think every man in this hall can attest to her being the loveliest sight they’ve ever laid their eyes upon. The princess is a woman worthy of respect and love. Any man here with two eyes can see that.” In that moment, Rhaenyra felt the eyes of every man entranced on her—undressing her, shedding and shearing her till she was naked and vulnerable as a lamb. 

Harwin’s eyes drank her in, the same look mirrored and exhibited just like her uncle’s glittering gaze.

And in her brother’s gaze—who she had forgotten. 

He made his way over next to Harwin, standing in front of her. Heated and hungrily staring at her; eyes searching and starving for her, wanting to swallow and gobble her up whole.

It made her spine shiver, now aware of the raw power she held within herself. And the ultimate weapon between her thighs, wet and throbbing beneath the steel. 

Maybe, after all, she could control them, bend them to her will with the sheer possibility of piercing her with their swords.

“Indeed, Ser Harwin, she is a lovely creature.” Her brother’s hand grabbed hold of his muscled bicep and squeezed hard enough to bruise. “A Targaryen princess, not just worthy of any,” Aegon’s hand gestures wildly, giving Harwin a playful punch to his shoulder, “…strong man.” He smirked as Harwin’s eyes lowered, glaring down at Aegon. “But a man with enough fire in their blood to match hers.” She glanced down and saw Harwin’s giant paw clenched tight in a fist and it made her heart leap.

Rhaenyra held them like clay in the palm of her hand—clay she would mold and manipulate furtively.

“Dear brother, perhaps Ser Strong should be permitted to participate in the hunt.” Both of their eyes widened at her clandestine words. “It could be another one of my lovely name day gifts.” Aegon’s eyes drifted downward, glittering with wantonness, desiring to feast his eyes on her lower half, hidden by the grand table. She shifted and took a deep breath, continuing her charade. “The more men who join the hunt for my maidenhead, the merrier.” She turned to her uncle who was breathing heavily, eyes piercing her very soul, his nostrils flared with more than anger—arousal. 

“Don’t you agree, uncle Daemon?” She glanced down and saw a very prominent bulge outlined against his breeches, straining and tense—like he had been the entire feast. She wet her lips despite herself, feeling a thrill of adrenaline ripple through her. “The prospect does so invigorate and excite me.” She bit her lip, looked up through her lashes at Aegon, who let out the long breath he was holding and gave her a small reluctant smile. 

“Of course, Rhaenyra.” He said forcefully, “Ser Harwin shall be allowed to join the hunt.” A brazen smile lit up on her face, hearing his words. 

“Thank you, Aegon. You are so generous, dear brother.” Daemon rose to object, but Aegon continued, silencing him. “But.” His voice was husky, full of amusement. “If Ser Harwin Strong were to catch you first, sister.”  The tone was dangerous, dripping with delicious decadence. “It will only be to save you for me. Your future King.” 

Rhaenyra’s heart sank, belly tightening with trepidation, as Aegon’s eyes darkened with desire, swallowed by night. “How does that sound, ser break bones? You can join the hunt to help catch the pretty prey, but not join in the ritual of despoiling the maiden princess? You can preserve my prize,” Harwin’s quiet rage radiated off of him ruthlessly, as he resisted breaking bones, dutifully clasping his hands behind his back. No doubt wanting to strangle her brother for twisting her words to taunt him. “Preserve my dragon princess for your future King, hmm?” 

“I– Yes, your grace.” Harwin replied curtly, glancing at her sadly for a fleeting moment, “I should dress then, prepare myself for the hunt. To preserve and protect the princess,” he glowered at Daemon before bowing slightly towards Aegon and her.

“Ahh! A wonderful idea! I do believe it’s almost time for everyone to prepare for the main event!” Aegon clapped his hands together. “You are dismissed, Ser Strong.” 

Harwin walked away, distraught and defeated, the first to leave the banquet.

Aegon announced to everyone in the Great Hall that the feast was over,  as roars of triumph rang through the hall, making Rhaenyra’s head spin. 

Once the keep had cleared, she felt sick with fear and worry once again, as Aegon winked at her, running his tongue along his teeth, grinning madly at Rhaenyra, who tried not to wince or weep. He bent his body over the table and whispered. “Gods, little sister, you truly are something unearthly. A lovely creature meant to torment every man’s waking dreams…” Aegon reached out, his fingertip touching one of the curls that escaped her braids, “I’ve dreamt about this day ever since you wrapped your little hand around mine, tangling me within your grasp.” Rhaenyra froze, unable to rip her eyes away from his; her brother’s secret seeping into her soul like honeyed wine. A tear slid down her cheek. He reached out to brush the back of his knuckle against it, but a sharp voice stopped him in his tracks and she stared up at her uncle’s obsidian violets.

“Aegon…” he said gruffly, grabbing Aegon’s wrist harshly, envious of his nephew’s flesh, ghosting her tear stained cheek, trying to cleanse it anew. “No one must touch her until the hunt is finished. You, of all, know this.” He hissed, snake-like, wanting to sink his fangs deep into her brother’s jugular, killing him for the words spilling from his mouth. 

“Unhand me, uncle…” Aegon threatened, balling his hand into a fist, ready to strike their uncle, to lift a finger and fight him in front of her for the first time in his life. And she understood their difficult relationship fully at that moment. 

Rhaenyra was the key to keeping the peace between them. Between men. Between the realm. 

The game that she must succeed at.

It was her duty as a Targaryen to offer herself up. A sacrifice of flesh, fire, and blood to keep the starving dragons satisfied and satiated. 

She gently rested her hand on her uncle’s bruising grip on her brother’s wrist. 

“Please…” she begged piously, pleading with both of them to keep the peace for a little while longer. For now. 

Daemon immediately relinquished Aegon’s wrist, retreating from the hall as if her touch had burnt him badly. Another fire lit low in her belly. 

Fire flowering in her flesh and blood.

“Take her,” was all Aegon uttered, hoarsely, his eyes unable to glance her way for the first time that day.

Rhaenyra was ushered from the hall, bound and blindfolded, and carried away to an unknown location. To face her future fate.

#posted the chapter on ao3 and under 'keep reading' =) #let me know what y'all think...dying to know tbh. #whelp here it is! #rhaenyra's pov of the feast =))) #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #rhaegon #daemyra #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fic #hotd aesthetic #daemon x rhaenyra #aegon x rhaenyra #my edits #my aesthetic #my writing #ao3 #dead dove do not eat

[heartpawp]

call me if you get lost - I

not posting all chapters here since it's already finished, but thought i'd add the first!!! read the full 16 chapters on ao3 here

"You're insufferable."

Usually, you would've been more keen on your wording around men -- customers. Not this time around, though, as the man before you sneers with a reprehensible school girl giggle. His name is Alastor, as you'd come to know him, the (in)famous radio host of New Orleans! New Orleans' prized treasure and sanctity.

In your eyes? A hard-headed, outcast, fool. One very, very, unfortunate day, he called. And now you're stuck with this dolt.

You cross your arms in disdain. This was the third appointment of the week scheduled with him. There are two others. It's Wednesday. Doesn't he have something to do, his own popular radio show to host? Simply.. annoying. There was no other word to describe this situation, you thought, but then you realized there were. Nasty, annoying, annoying, insolent, crabby, maddening. It was like he wanted you to himself. There are a million other call girls, flappers, prostitutes.. whatever, to please his mindlessness. His apparent 'loneliness' he once dramatically declared he had.

"Are you done playing with your food yet?" You ask with a frown, groaning when his smile only widens. The ends of his golden eyes crinkle in satisfaction. Did he want a reaction for his insulting behavior? Well, he's about to damn get it!

He tilts his head to the side, acting all dollish and ditzy. Raising one brow, he starts his blabbering. Again. "Hm?" He jumps with a start, straightening back up. "Are you implying something with that retort of yours, my dear?" Of course. This f- "Why, I'd adore to eat that cute face of yours up," Grabbing your cheek with one hand and pinching it, he talks in that freakishly demeaning baby voice he does when he wants the total control he already has with his status, 'back'. "But I'm afraid I might get poisoned, my dear!" You grimace. Is he serious?

He already has you under his thumb, whether you like it or not. You both already know this- It's implied with your profession, and that stupid influential persona of his. He smiles. Terribly. Leaning in, so close your plush lips graze over his- and Alastor, your most excruciating client, swipes a bite with his sharp teeth to your lower lip. You play into his sick idea of a game, teasingly squinting your eyes, urging him to press harder.

Your bottom lip is surely losing color by now, but it quickly comes back when you feel a familiar copper taste linger on your tongue. Your lip starts to sting, and just when you think he's done, he slips his own tongue in your mouth. Grabbing your face with both his hands, Alastor pulls you closer than ever before. His saliva mixes with the burgundy-colored, smooth substance. It's fresh, new, and most importantly- exciting. Invigorating. It urges you for more.

It urges you to come back again on Thursday.. and then Friday, or whenever he calls you for a quick power trip.

It's not always this smooth sailing, though.

Sometimes this.. man, will call in advance, but will be absent from his place of residence at the appointed time. It's, frankly, worrying. For you! Of course, as you're locked outside bordering on pushing daisies. Often he fails to show for a good half-hour, until he finally shows up. Sweat like dew on his pretty caramel skin, rushing to the doorstep you stand angrily at.

He should really consider adding a bench. Or you should raise your prices.

Or both. Who's to say?

You. You're to say.

Quickly, after huffing and puffing all the way here (Ugh), he unlocks the spruce door to his home, politely ushering you in. Of course, he acts like a gentleman, but only for the first thirty seconds of his presence being known.

And then it starts all over again.

With how much he occupies your work schedule, you may as well drop all offers from other people- also considering his odd possessiveness with you. 

Really, someone needs to put him in his place.

#misc fics #hazbin hotel #writing #fanfic #ao3 #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin #human alastor

[rosanna-writer]

The Dust of the Stars in Her Eyes (5/7)

Summary: Feyre Archeron didn't want a prince, just a night off and a dress. But when the mating bond snaps for Rhysand at the ball where his father is pressuring him to choose a wife, he'll do anything to keep Feyre close—even convince her to fake an engagement to him. Warnings: Light discussion of injuries Pairing: Feysand Chapter Word Count: ~2k

Chapter One: The Prince is Giving a Ball | Chapter Two: I Have Found Her | Chapter Three: So Why is the Fellow Going Crazy? | Chapter Four: I Wake in the Loneliness of Sunrise | Chapter Five: Move a Mountain, Light the Sky

Chapter Five for Day Five of @officialfeysandweek2023 is up!

You can find it below the cut or here on AO3.

Rhys was screaming her name. Feyre rolled backwards in the air and soared towards him without consciously choosing to, her body reacting instinctively to his distress before she even knew what was happening.

He was falling. There were arrows in Rhys's wings and legs, and he was falling right out of the sky. He should have winnowed or put up a shield or something, but Rhys was falling.

Feyre had shot countless birds while hunting, and a direct hit meant nothing if she couldn't find the carcass on the ground afterward. With years of practice, it only took a heartbeat's worth of time to track Rhys's movement and estimate where he'd land if she didn't intervene. 

And his bones would shatter against the mountain if she got it wrong.

Feyre winnowed to the spot just below him, hoping she'd guessed the speed and angle just right. She extended her arms. And Rhys fell right into them.

It was awkward, her wings straining with effort as she tried to climb with the additional weight of him. As she adjusted, one of his talons nearly grazed her cheek. But he was safe.

"I've got you," she whispered. She kept flying, taking two beats of her wings to catch her breath and pull him closer to her chest. Then Feyre winnowed again.

Only half-High Fae, Feyre couldn't winnow far. But she was fast, and that was what mattered. Rhys's blood would leave a trail that any idiot with a sense of smell could track. She winnowed them several times in quick succession, covering enough ground each time to make sure they wouldn't be followed.

In an empty clearing, she finally set Rhys down gently. He swayed a bit, catching her around the shoulders with an arm before he stumbled and fell. With him leaning up against her, Feyre looked him over as best as she could.

More arrows than she cared to count had shredded his wings, and one was still embedded in his thigh. Ash arrows, with a greenish tinge that could only mean poison.

That explained why he hadn't winnowed himself to the ground and the sickly pallor on his face. Feyre could feel his heart hammering, working overtime to make up for the blood loss. His breath was beginning to come in shallow gasps.

"Which way is the house?" she said. They were too far from Windhaven for her to take him back now.

"North," he managed to say, and Feyre let out a silent prayer of thanks to the Mother that he was still clear-headed enough to give her directions. There were wards that kept her from winnowing in, but she could get close.

She winnowed again, short bursts of distance each time. Her own power began to flag as so much repeated winnowing drained her, and Rhys's eyes fluttered shut. They couldn't keep this up much longer.

When standing became too difficult for Rhys, Feyre hoisted him across her shoulders, holding him in place with one arm and leaving the other free. Not that it mattered—if anyone caught up to them, she'd be outnumbered. There was nothing to do but trudge ahead on foot as Rhys's blood left a trail behind them. She wouldn't risk flying when someone might be watching the skies.

Someone must have heard or sensed her coming, because as Feyre emerged from the trees, the door to the house flung open. The two Illyrians inside must have been the brothers she was supposed to meet.

"Rhys was shot with poison arrows. One of you go get a healer," Feyre said before they could get a question out. There was a note of command in her voice she hadn't known she was capable of.

The one with blue siphons nodded once then took off without another word, and the other helped Feyre bring Rhys inside. They laid him out on the bed, on his stomach to keep his wings free. With hardly a word, the male pulled a box of gauze from a cabinet, and they got to work applying pressure to the wounds.

Wounds that the poison kept from closing.

The arrows had ripped his wings, leaving long, ugly gashes from serrated edges. Without Rhys's healing magic, there was more blood flowing than Feyre and his brother could stanch on their own. All they could do was press on the worst of it to buy time.

It seemed to take an age, but the brother who'd left returned with the healer. When the healer reached for Rhys's wings to examine them, Feyre let out an involuntary growl. His brothers shared a look. Feyre snarled.

The healer was there to help, but for some reason Feyre didn't understand, the sight of another female getting close to Rhys's wings sent a primal, irrational sort of rage lancing through her.

The brother with red siphons ushered her out the door before the situation could devolve. In the yard, with the door closed behind them and the scent of Rhys's blood fading, Feyre took a deep breath and tried to calm herself.

"Who are you?" the male said. "And what happened?"

"I'm his fiancee," Feyre said.

"Fiancee? Are you also his ma—"

She snarled again. "Don't."

Feyre knew what he'd been about to say. Just like she knew what it meant that there had been a feeling of emptiness in her chest, as if something was missing and silent with the poison suppressing Rhys's magic. Deep down, she knew, even if she wouldn't admit it—to herself or anyone else.

Her eyes flashed, daring Rhys's brother to finish that sentence, but he just raised his brows and said, "I'm Cassian. Sorry we're not meeting under better circumstances."

"I'm Feyre," she said, then launched into a description of the attack. Cassian would want to know all the rest later, but for now, Feyre was sure he was mostly worried that Rhys's attackers might arrive at their doorstep to finish the job. But the forest around them was quiet, even if Cassian was scanning it for threats instead of looking at her as she spoke.

The door opened again, and the other brother—Azriel, Feyre assumed—appeared in the doorway. "Rhys is going to be fine," he said, face impassive. "He's asleep now."

Feyre and Cassian followed him back inside, where the healer was packing her up her things. Rhys was still on the bed, shirt gone, wings braced open and covered in bandages and coated in some sort of salve, another bandage wrapped around his leg. But his breathing was deep and even, and his skin had already lost its sickly cast.

Feyre let out a breath. He was going to be alright.

But for now, she still owed his brothers more answers, so the three of them dragged chairs around the bed and talked. Rhys hadn't mentioned how much of the truth he'd intended to tell his brothers, so Feyre lied through her teeth about a perfect, whirlwind night of falling in love with a prince. She didn't know either one of them well enough to be sure if they believed her. At the very least, however, they trusted her enough to leave her alone with Rhys while they went to Windhaven in search of more information.

Feyre didn't know how long she sat, watching the rise and fall of Rhys's chest. But eventually he stirred, groaning as his eyes opened. "Feyre?" he said, and something deep within her uncoiled at the sound of it.

"It's me," she said. "You just missed your brothers. They'll be back soon."

Feyre watched the clarity return to his eyes as he took in the sight of her bloodstained leathers. He was lucid, even as he grimaced in pain. "Are you hurt?"

"Not at all. The blood on me is all yours," she said, and Rhys's grimace softened slightly.

"Thank you."

Feyre ducked her head, unable to face everything shining in Rhys's eyes as he looked at her. Forcing a tight smile, she said, "I wouldn't be a very convincing fiancee if I let you fall to your death, now would I?"

"You carried me here."

"It was that or leave you to bleed out in the mud. Which would also have been a horrible thing to do." Rhys said nothing, just reached out a hand, and Feyre laced their fingers together. He tugged her hand gently, urging her to come closer. She added, "It's just us here. You don't have to pretend."

"I'm aware," he said, tugging again. "Come here anyway."

With his wings stretched out and immobilized to heal, there was no room to perch on the bed next to him. Hiding her own wings, Feyre ducked under his and lay down on her back next to him. She stared up at the membrane, took in the sight of the dried blood caking it, the carefully wrapped bandages. "How badly does it hurt?" she whispered.

"Not as badly now," he said, dropping her hand to band his arm around her and pull her closer. Feyre found herself relaxing against him in spite of herself. She swore she could draw a bright, unbroken line along every place they touched, from where their ankles knocked together, up their sides, to where Rhys's arm crossed her chest.

As much as she hated seeing his injuries, it was a relief in some ways, to be looking at his wings instead of his eyes. She wasn't sure she could face what she might find there.

Mother above, what were they doing?

Maybe it didn't matter—he'd been terrified and probably just wanted someone to hold, and Feyre was the only one there. If that was the case, she decided she didn't mind. Being next to him was comfortable. And maybe she'd take what she could get while this engagement lasted.

She felt a sharp inhale against her hair, Rhys taking in her scent. It would be so easy, she realized, to turn her head and press her lips to his—and it was becoming more difficult to believe he wouldn't welcome it if she did. But it was also becoming increasingly obvious that walking away at the end of this engagement would take something out of her, and she refused to make it harder on herself. So Feyre just continued staring resolutely up at his wing.

"I was afraid they'd shot you, too," Rhys said quietly. "While I was falling, I thought you might have just been killed because of your association with me."

It wasn't even an unreasonable conclusion to come to. Feyre had just seen firsthand how much Rhys was disliked in Illyria, and it stood to reason that being close to Rhys came with a risk of getting caught in the crossfire. He'd be High Lord one day, and that came with enemies from other courts, too. Feyre couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't sound like a hollow platitude.

After a moment, Rhys added, "So if you want out after what happened this morning, I understand."

The resignation in his voice ran deep, and Feyre knew he was talking about a bigger sort of rejection than just ending their engagement early. But that was as far down that road she'd allow her thoughts to go.

"I'm an archer, in case you forgot. It takes more than a few arrows to scare me off."

With the arm circling her chest, Rhys squeezed her closer for a second. Feyre let her head fall to the side, her temple brushing against his, and the tight feeling in her chest seemed to fade away.

"And I couldn't be more fortunate for that."

Feyre found herself smiling slightly as they lapsed into a comfortable silence. There would be more people in and out of the house soon, she realized—once word got to Velaris, she was sure his family would want to come see him, and the Cauldron only knew when his brothers would be back. The failed assassins would have to be rooted out, and there would be delays in the changes to the inheritance laws he'd come to meet with the camp-lords about.

But it was peaceful for now, just the two of them. Feyre just wished it could last a bit longer.

#feysandweek2023 #feysand #the dust of the stars in her eyes

[stardustshelb]

"Strawberry" Part Five

TW: Language

Word count: 7,999

Chapter Thirteen

I finished applying my lipstick in the bathroom mirror when I heard my phone vibrate on the counter. My heart fluttered when I thought it’d be Josh telling me they were on their way, but instead it was Kenneth’s name on the screen. My heart sank.

Kenneth: “Are you alive? I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

Me: “All good here! How is everything with you?”

Kenneth: “Good. I’m ready for you to come home.” I hesitated on what to reply back to his message. I was so not ready to come home, but I knew my return was inevitable. 

Me: “Only two more days.” I replied with a sad face emoji. Of course, I was sad because I only had two days left of freedom, fun, and Joshua. I wasn’t ready to return back to the same loneliness I feel in Oklahoma. Just then, I got a notification of a text from Plagiarism.

Plagiarism: “We are heading your way now.” I smiled and held the message down to “love” it before taking one final look in the mirror. I was so nervous to meet his friends, well–brothers–but I was even more nervous about how the girls were going to behave tonight. I turned the bathroom light off, stuck my phone in my jean backpocket, and made my way into the living room where the girls were all hanging out. Despite the fact that we were literally staying home for the evening, that didn’t stop Abby from wearing a multi-color sequin mini dress that was so tight I wondered how she was able to sit down, let alone breathe. I opted for a more comfortable approach in my ripped jeans and cropped t-shirt. Brooke was in a casual maxi dress; Maddie was in jean shorts and a Nashville t-shirt that she must have picked up on this trip. Riley was back in her “BRIDE” white velour tracksuit from her travel day. When she put it on, she exclaimed, “Even though we’re staying in, it’s still my bachelorette party. I have to dress the part!” We definitely didn’t look like we were all dressed for the same occasion. 

“What time will the pizzas be here?” Madie asked.

“In about an hour,” Abby replied. Of course she volunteered to buy all of the pizzas and refused to accept Venmo from us. She had an unlimited budget and I wasn’t going to argue because it kept me from spending the last of my money. I guess she wanted to be Saint Domino’s for the night.

I did one last walk through the Airbnb to make sure everything was perfect for the boys’ arrival. There wasn’t going to be enough room at the dining room table for all of us, so we took the pillows and blankets from our bedrooms to make the living room floor more comfortable as a hangout spot. The deck of cards for our drinking games and coasters for our glasses were neatly displayed on top of the living room table. I still couldn’t fight the anxious feeling building inside of me. My mind was racing with hypothetical, worst case scenarios. I definitely was going to need to take a shot or something as soon as the boys got here with the booze. I just needed to relax.

“Welcome, come in!” I said nervously as I opened the door for our secretly famous guests. Once I saw Josh’s smile, a calmness washed over me. The effect he has on me can only be credited to magic. He walked past me and gently rubbed his hand on my shoulder as a subtle greeting. Even with just his light touch, electricity surged through my veins. I got a whiff of his cologne and almost floated through the air like you see in the cartoons. In his arms were brown paper sacks no doubt full of bottles of the poison he picked for tonight. Behind him followed the three best looking guys I have ever seen. Seriously, why was every member in this band so damn good looking? Were they even real? I tried not to appear star-struck as Jake, Danny, and Sam entered the Airbnb–each of them also held brown paper sacks. It looked like there was enough alcohol between them to host a big frat party. 

Josh pulled my arm close to him and said, “Guys, this is Strawberry.” I immediately felt my face get hot. It just hit me that we’d been playing the no-name-game and now I was going to have to continue it with an audience of people who weren’t in on the joke.

“Who the hell is Strawberry?” I heard Abby’s voice ask. Shit.

“It’s a nickname,” I said, trying to think of what to say.

“Well, obviously because your name is—” Abby was saying.

“I call her Strawberry,” Josh interrupted. 

“Nice to meet you, Strawberry. I’m Sam,” he said as he pulled me into a hug. I wrapped my arms around him and felt him squeeze me tight. I liked him.

“I’m Danny,” he said, giving a nervous wave to the group accompanied by a soft smile. 

“Jake,” he said with no smile. I remembered his serious disposition when he was the assistant on the plane. I got the vibe that he didn’t want to be here, but maybe he was just hard to read.

I took a turn introducing all of the girls one-by-one to the guys. Oddly enough, even when I said each of their names, Josh never looked at anyone but me. I tried to act like I didn’t notice his stare, but I could feel my knees getting weaker by the second. 

“I want to take a shot with the bride!” Sammy yelled as he made his way to the kitchen with his arms full of bags. I grabbed Riley’s hand and pulled her along behind him. The guys followed suit and started unpacking their purchases. Bottles of beer, wine, and liquor started to plague the countertop space. 

“We brought a little of everything because we weren’t sure what you guys would like,” Danny said with an adorable smile.

“I like it all,” Abby said as she scooted closer to him. I watched Danny’s nervous eyes flash to the counter as he slowly shifted his body away from hers. Yep, I liked him too.

“And for a little taste of home,” Josh said as he started to pull out a bottle with a label that I knew all too well. My eyes got wide as I recognized the bottle of bourbon in his hands. Riley immediately turned her neck to look at me; her shocked expression matched mine.

“Uh, not big bourbon fans?” Josh asked nervously when he noticed our reactions.

“How did you find Oklahoma bourbon in Tennessee?” I asked.

“This is the reason why we were in Oklahoma,” Josh said, tilting the bottle in the air.

“I’m not following,” I said.

“The business meeting in OKC was with this brand. We are partnering with them,” Jake interrupted.

“What do you guys do?” Maddie asked. I couldn’t focus on the elaborate lies that the boys were now feeding the girls about their made-up professions because I could only focus on the bottle of bourbon in Josh’s hands. The same brand of bourbon that sits on my shelves back home. The same brand of bourbon that Kenneth drinks. The same brand of bourbon that pays my bills. The same brand of bourbon that shares what is supposed to be my future last name. The same brand of bourbon that Kenneth’s family business makes. What the actual fuck was going on?

“Can I see you for a  minute?” I heard as I felt Riley squeeze on my arm which pulled me from my thoughts. I followed her out of the kitchen and into the empty dining room.

“Does he know that’s Kenneth’s bourbon?” Riley asked in a whisper.

“Of course not!” I said in almost a yell. I couldn’t whisper even if I had wanted to. I couldn’t believe what was happening.

“How? Why? What?” Riley asked, throwing her hands up frantically.

“I can’t tell him he’s about to do business with my–!” I hissed.

“Is everything ok?” I heard Josh’s voice suddenly ring through my ears.

“Yes,” I heard Riley say as she turned me around to face him. “We just weren’t sure how our local brand of bourbon would make its way to you,” she added.

“We wanted to partner with a US-based distillery and this is our favorite brand of bourbon. We tried it once on tour and it changed our lives. We are in the works of collaborating with the company to become ambassadors for their brand,” he said.

“So this means you’ll be in Oklahoma again?” I asked.

“Yes, it means we’ll make a couple more trips,” he said with a smirk. I felt Riley squeeze my arm again. 

“Well, I don’t know about Strawberry here, but I am not a bourbon fan. I’m going to find Sam who owes me that shot,” Riley said as she made her way out of the room to leave us alone. She turned around to look at me over Josh’s shoulder to mouth “Oh my God” before exiting the room. 

“When will you be back in Oklahoma?” I asked. Josh pulled out his phone to check his calendar. I studied his face as his eyes moved through the many dates on his app. No doubt that he was always busy. 

“We are set to come back at the end of next month,” he said, double-checking his dates. 

“Were you going to tell me?” I said.

“I wasn’t sure,” Josh admitted. My heart sank.

“You were going to fly back to Oklahoma City, be less than two hours from me, and keep that a secret?” I asked, trying to mask the hurt in my voice.

“I don’t want to mess up anything in your personal life. It’s different being here,” he said.

“So you planned to cut ties with me the second I flew home,” I said. 

“That’s not fair,” Josh said. Before I could respond, I jumped at the sound of glass shattering from the kitchen. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” Maddie yelled. I pushed my way past Josh and headed into the kitchen to find a busted bottle of what smelled like tequila all over the kitchen floor. Pieces of glass and liquid were everywhere. 

“Nobody move!” I commanded as I made my way to the storage closet in the hallway to grab towels and a broom. The last thing I wanted was to make an ER trip because someone had cut their foot open. When I returned back to the scene of the accident, Josh was kneeling on the ground and had already started picking up the large pieces of glass.

“Good thing we brought another bottle of tequila,” Sam said, lightening the mood.

“I’m so sorry,” Maddie said again.

“It’s really ok,” Sam said as he stuck a lime wedge in his mouth to give her a fruit-filled smile. I liked how he was able to dust things off as no big deal. I wished I could be more like that.

“Fuck,” I heard Josh say. I looked down to see he had accidentally cut the palm of his hand while collecting the glass.

“Let me clean this up,” Riley said as she grabbed the towels and broom from me. “There’s a first aid kit under the sink in the guest bathroom. Go make sure Josh is ok,” she said.

“I’m a nurse!” Brooke chimed in. “I can doctor him up,” she said.

“Just rub some tequila on it. You’ll be fine,” Jake said with a laugh. It was the first time I had seen him smile. Like his brother, he had a radiant smile. 

“I’m fine,” Josh added as he stood up and made his way to the sink. I watched him wash the blood from his palm and it made me feel nauseated. Even though I was a teacher who had witnessed many nosebleeds in my classroom, dealing with blood was not in my wheelhouse. I left the room to grab the first aid kit for Brooke to mend Josh’s hand. Or, maybe I left the room to get away from the sight of blood. Both were true in this case. 

“Party foul!” Abby yelled from the living room. I rolled my eyes as I walked past her and made my way into the bathroom. I got on my knees and opened the cabinet under the sink to look for the kit that Riley claimed was there. I saw fresh linen towels, bathroom cleaning supplies, but no first aid kit. I kept looking when I jumped at the sound of his voice.

“I really am fine,” he said. I stopped my search and looked up to see him standing in the doorway. He had a wad of paper towels clenched in a tight fist. 

“Riley said it was in here,” I said, turning my attention back to the cabinet. Josh stepped more into the bathroom and shut the door, closing the two of us inside. I tried to ignore his presence and focus on the task of finding the kit. Alas, I spotted a small white container with a red cross on the lid.

“Voila!” I said holding it up. I opened the plastic box to sift through gauze, bandages, and medical tape. “Let me get Brooke,” I said as I started to stand up.

“I don’t need a nurse to put on a bandaid,” he said laughing.

“Well, I don’t do blood, so she’s your only hope,” I said, shoving the box to him.

“I feel like you’re lying just because you don’t want to talk to me,” he said, blocking the doorway.

“Well, I don’t particularly feel like talking to you at the moment, but no, I will truly get sick if I see your blood,” I said. He kept the paper towel clenched in his fist and put his wounded hand behind his back away from my line of vision. 

“I don’t understand why you’re mad at me,” he said. I honestly didn’t understand either but I couldn’t let him know that. He had made it clear to me already that this was nothing serious. I was the one floundering about in a dream world that was only going to end in heartbreak for me. I understood that; I just didn’t want to accept it.

“I’m not mad. I guess I was just hurt that you didn’t want to see me again,” I said, shifting my feet.

“Oh, believe me. I do want to see you, but I don’t want to cause a disturbance in your personal life. You have a fiancé, a job, a family, really just a whole other life in Oklahoma. I don’t fit in that puzzle,” he said. I wished he wanted to. I’d create a whole new puzzle to make his piece fit with mine.

“You’re right,” I said with a sigh. 

“Let’s just enjoy the time we have left, ok?” He said as he closed the space between us. I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eyes because I didn’t want my sadness to show. 

“I better get back out there,” I said.

“What’s the rush?” He asked, moving closer to me so that our bodies were mere centimeters apart. His enticing scent consumed me. 

“I’m not hooking up with you in the bathroom while your hand is bleeding,” I said with a laugh.

“Can you at least kiss me in the bathroom while my hand is bleeding?” He asked. I finally met his eyes. He was smiling and I wanted nothing more than to kiss him. But I wasn’t sure what I wanted from him now. I felt the need to protect my feelings.

“We’ll see,” I said as I moved around him, ignoring his advances. I put my hand on the doorknob when I felt his arm wrap around my waist.

“Come here,” he said, pulling me to him. I tried to stand firm but my subconscious craved his touch. As if I had no control over my body, I allowed him to hold me close. I took a deep breath and felt myself melt into him. This intimacy, this closeness, this connection… How could he not feel it too?

“I have to pee!” Abby’s voice rang from the other side of the bathroom door. I let go of Josh and looked up into his eyes. They appeared darker than normal. Like he felt conflicted by something but wouldn’t dare to admit. 

“Coming!” I said, pulling myself away from his hold. At that moment, it was as if I pulled a part of him away with me. I watched his adam's apple move as he swallowed his unspoken sadness.

Chapter Fourteen

“Never have I ever been arrested,” Danny said with a smirk. We all looked around the circle to see Sam was the only one to put a finger down. 

“Oh shit!” Riley yelled out. “Take a drink!” Sam flipped Danny off as he took a sip from his bottle of tequila. I was enjoying my second glass of wine while sitting between my best friend and my lover. We had polished off the pizza that Abby ordered and now we were playing our first round of drinking games. Life was good on the living room floor. 

“Never have I ever had a sibling,” Riley voiced when it was her turn. 

“Nice,” I said as we touched our glasses like we were making a toast. Being only children was something we had in common and was one of the reasons we got along so well. We were each other’s chosen sisters. Everyone else in the room put a finger down. I had the most fingers still up which was only an embarrassing indicator that everyone else had lived more fulfilling lives than me. It was now my turn and I was trying to think of something that would wipe people out.

“Never have I ever been pulled over,” I said. Fingers went down across the room except for Danny and Maddie. “Drink up!” I said as I raised my glass to everyone else.

“Never have I ever gone to college,” Josh said with a shrug. Every girl in the room put a finger down and the guys cheered as we all had to take a drink. 

“Never have I ever been engaged,” Abby said with a tone that I could have slapped her for. It was obviously directed at Riley and me as everyone else in the room was obviously unmarried. Did she pick up on the vibes between Josh and me? What was she trying to prove? Riley and I both put a finger down and in that moment, I realized I wasn’t even wearing my ring. 

“Ok, that was targeted,” Riley said. “Helloooo? It’s my fucking bachelorette weekend!” Everyone laughed but I noticed a rigid shift in Jake’s body language when I put my finger down. He was staring at Josh with a look I couldn’t quite place, but he looked pissed. Sam had one finger left and the look on Jake’s face showed he was done playing the game.

“Never have I ever eaten tofu,” Jake said with a raise of his glass in Sam’s direction.

“Ah, man, come on!” Sam said as he put his last finger down. 

“Loserrrrrrr!” Abby drunkenly yelled out. “Chug! Chug! Chug!” She began to chant. While everyone in the room watched Sam take a shot straight from the bottle, I saw Jake get up from the circle and make his way into the kitchen. Josh gave me a wink before he jumped up to follow his brother. I wondered what discussion was about to take place; what I would have given to be a fly on the wall to have heard it. 

When they made their way back into the room to join the party, I could sense something was off with Josh. They hadn’t been gone very long, and I’m sure nobody even noticed their absence because Sam was now shuffling the cards for a new game. Josh noticed my empty wine glass and grabbed it without saying a word. He returned back to the kitchen and I hesitated on whether I should have followed him or not. But the stern look on Jake’s face was almost like a warning to stay away from Josh, so I stayed put. 

“Everyone needs six cards,” Sam stated as he started to deal out the deck of cards. Josh returned with a now full glass of wine for me and I accepted it. I tried to read his face but it was impossible. He took his seat next to me and I reached out to touch his hand, but he pulled it away before I had the opportunity. He reached out for his cards from Sam and then I did the same. 

I couldn’t focus on the rules of the game that Sam was half-ass explaining. I was too fixated on the sudden change in Josh’s mood after his talk with Jake. Something was clearly off about him and I wanted to know what was going on. 

“Did you get that?” Riley leaned over and asked me.

“Huh?” I said.

“Were you listening to the rules?” She asked.

“Oh, yeah,” I said. That wasn’t even close to being true. I had no idea what game we were playing because I wasn’t paying any attention.

“Ok… Then why are you still holding all six of your cards?” Riley asked with a puzzled expression. I looked around to see everyone had laid one of their cards face down in front of them. I had no idea what the point of the game was, so I just pulled one from my pile and placed it in front of me.

“Ok, one… two… flip!” Sam yelled. All at once, everyone turned their chosen card over. I followed suit even though I didn’t have a clue as to what game we were playing. 

“Strawberry, why the hell did you play two of hearts?” Danny asked while laughing.

“I–I don’t know,” I said, visibly confused

“Ok, you obviously lost. Drink!” Abby yelled. I still had no idea what the fuck I was supposed to be doing, so I just drank my wine.

Josh leaned over to whisper in my ear, “You were supposed to play your highest card that round.” Wonderful. I probably looked dumb as hell.

All of a sudden, Sam jumped up and started singing, “Two of hearts, two hearts that beat as one. Two of hearts…” into his bottle of tequila now disguised as a makeshift microphone. And like two peas in a pod, Danny jumped up to dance with him singing background vocals: “I need you, I need you.” The two of them definitely stole everyone’s attention as they performed the 80’s hit in the living room. It was nice to see both Josh and Jake smiling again. I wished Danny and Sam knew how grateful I was for them at this moment. They brought a kind of energy that I wished I could bottle up and harvest as my own.

The boys’ performance distracted everyone from the card game that I never actually learned the rules to, so I could tell the night was winding down. I was actually feeling a little tired and I just wanted to be alone with Josh. I could tell he was still a little off compared to his normal self, but I decided to wait until we were alone to talk to him about it.

I finished my glass of wine and then started cleaning up the Airbnb while everyone was hanging out in the living room. Everybody seemed to have a good buzz; I was thankful nobody got absolutely shitfaced. Nothing ruins a party quicker than someone who needs a babysitter, bodyguard, or both. I made my way into the kitchen to start throwing away empty pizza boxes and putting dirty dishes in the dishwasher. We didn’t even touch half of the alcohol that the boys brought. The bottle of the Oklahoma bourbon sat half empty on the counter. I stared at it wondering if or how I could tell Josh that they were about to do business with my fiancé, or maybe soon-to-be ex-fiancé. I knew my third glass of wine had me feeling bold when the possibility of me leaving Kenneth crossed my mind.

“Need a hand?” I heard a somewhat unfamiliar voice ask. I turned to see Jake standing in the entryway of the kitchen. 

“Sure, thank you,” I said, trying not to look too surprised to see him. I continued to load the dishwasher with dirty plates and glasses. He walked into the kitchen and stood next to me.

“Here,” he said as he handed me his empty glass. I recognized the smell of the bourbon immediately.

“Thanks,” I said as I grabbed it. I could tell he was wanting to talk to me because he wasn’t actually doing any cleaning. I held my breath until he finally had the courage to speak.

“I know you don’t know me, but I know my brother. He’s the most important person in my life. So what I’m about to say to you, I ask that you keep that in mind,” he started. I continued holding my breath because I didn’t like the sound of where this was going. “I think you two don’t need to spend the night together.”

I didn’t have any more dirty dishes left in the sink to place in the dishwasher, but I felt like I needed something to occupy myself while I tried to process Jake’s words. I started twisting all of the caps on the bottles of liquor and placing them back in the brown paper bags. He continued to speak, “It’s not a good idea for either of you, especially given your situation. I know Josh’s views on marriage, and while I don’t share those same views, I think he should respect other people’s commitments.”

“I’m not married,” I finally spoke.

“No, but you are engaged to be,” he added. “And I am not judging you at all. I don’t know you or your situation, but I do know my brother. I’m just afraid he’s going to get hurt.” I was shocked at this admission. Jake thought Josh was the one going to be hurt? He had no clue. Josh was the one keeping his guard up and setting clear boundaries with me. It was me who was practically sick over the idea of never seeing him again in a mere couple of days. 

“I really appreciate you talking to me about this. I can see how much you care about him,” I began. “Your brother has taught me more about myself in these past few days than I would have ever learned on my own. And while I dread going back home and saying goodbye to him, I am thankful for the time that we have had together. I value your opinion, but I’m not ready to cut that time short.”

“And you don’t have to,” Josh’s voice interrupted. I quickly turned around to find that he had been eavesdropping on my conversation with Jake. I wondered how much he had heard. 

“I was just relaying to Strawberry what I had already talked with you about,” Jake said while holding his arms up like he had been caught doing something illegal. 

“We are both consenting adults capable of making our own decisions,” Josh said.

“I understand that. I just wanted you both to hear where I’m coming from,” Jake added. He started collecting the unopened beer bottles from the fridge and placing them back in the empty cardboard drink carriers. I dried my hands and left the two of them alone to finish their conversation, even though it seemed like Josh didn’t want to be there. I walked back into the living room to find Abby on her phone, Maddie and Danny were deep into a conversation about music, Riley was braiding Brooke’s hair, and Sam was picking up the playing cards off the floor. 

“I think Jake packed up all of the booze, so I guess the party's over,” I said with a nervous laugh. 

“Are y’all good to drive?” Riley asked.

“Y’all,” Sam imitated her southern accent with a laugh. “Sorry,” he shyly added when he realized what he had just done.

“Yes, I am good to drive,” Danny added, giving a somewhat stern look to Sam.

“Josh is staying here, right?” Sam asked.

“Why would Josh stay here?” Abby asked. I immediately looked at Sam to communicate that he had just fucked up.

“I joke, I joke,” Sam added with a wild laugh. I glanced at Riley who shot me a confused look. I could tell she was trying to think of a way to cover for Sam’s blunder but was drawing a blank.

“Do you need us to take the trash out?” Danny asked while standing up.

“No, I think we’re good. We appreciate it though,” Maddie said. I could see she was blushing. It was easy to see why. Danny was one of the most handsome men I had ever laid eyes on. He could have been a Greek God in a past life. I felt my phone vibrate in my back pocket. I grabbed it to read a text from Plagiarism: “I’m going to help load the car up and I’ll come back inside when everyone is gone.” 

“You guys ready?” Jake said as he entered the living room. Josh was standing behind him carrying two sacks of alcohol. I subtly waved my phone at him to indicate that I had seen his text. Now we just had to play the waiting game until the girls went to bed which hopefully would be soon. I was sick of playing games–figuratively and literally.

Chapter Fifteen

After what felt like waiting for an eternity but was probably closer to 30 minutes, I texted Josh to let him know it was time for him to come back. I sent “The coast is clear” as I waited for him by the front door. I had to chuckle thinking of his “we are two consenting adults” comment from earlier because we’ve been acting like two teeangers sneaking around every night. It was fun and thrilling in the most ridiculous way possible. Even though we had spent all evening in each other’s presence, I didn’t feel like we had any alone time. I was looking forward to spending the night together with nobody around to interfere. I locked the front door and I reached for his hand. 

“This one is wounded, remember?” Josh said while switching hands so I was now holding the unbandaged one. “I could have bled to death and you wouldn’t have lifted a finger,” he said dramatically as he held up his free hand.

“You literally refused help from a medical professional, so your blood is on your hands…Literally,” I said with a laugh. We quietly walked down the hallway until we got to my bedroom. I made sure to be the one to shut the door and lock it so we wouldn’t have any surprise guests again in the morning. 

“Are you and Jake good?” I asked as we sat on the edge of my bed.

“Yes, of course,” he said as he turned his body to face mine.

“I can tell you mean a lot to him. I couldn’t imagine having a twin. Hell, I don’t even know what it’s like to have a sibling!” I said with a shrug. Growing up as an only child wasn’t the worst thing to happen to me, but not having a sibling definitely contributed to the loneliness in which I feel now. 

“Jake knows me better than anyone, so I will always listen to his guidance. But I also needed him to realize that I am free to make my own choices,” he said as the corners of his mouth turned to smile. I got a flashback to my conversation with Riley from earlier today when we made up. I knew exactly what he meant.

“Did you guys have a good time tonight? It went better than I expected, honestly,” I said.

“Oh yeah, I think so. I mean, I was secretly wishing we would have called it a night hours ago,” he said with a smirk. “I would have rather been with you right here the whole night.” I bit my lip trying to hide my smile. I wanted nothing more than to kiss him, but our conversation from earlier still lingered in the back of my mind.

“So,” I paused. “This bourbon partnership…”

“Yes?” Josh asked, waiting for me to continue. I wanted to be honest with him but I also didn’t want to interfere with his life more than I already had. He planned never to see me again after I left, so would it even matter to him? 

“I’m very familiar with that brand,” I said while nervously smoothing my hands across the bed.

“Oh? I thought you weren’t much of a bourbon fan?” He said laughing. “You really should give it a try. It’s the best, smoothest one I’ve ever had. It’s why we’re so passionate about collaborating with them.”

“Yeah, I actually–” I began when Josh’s phone started to ring. 

“Who the hell is calling me at one a.m.?” He asked as he reached over to grab his phone off the nightstand. He checked the screen and then whispered, “Sorry, I need to take this.” He jumped up off the bed and made his way to the corner of the room. He was still in earshot, but I didn’t see who had called him. 

“What are you talking about?” Josh asked the mystery caller. I panicked watching him pace back and forth across the front of the room. I could sense something was wrong.

“What TikTok?” He questioned. TikTok? I continued to watch him pace until he stopped and rubbed his hand over his face.

“I mean, we partied with some friends tonight but nobody did anything worth getting upset over,” he said into the phone. I wished I knew what was going on. I was trying to put pieces together but it was difficult with only hearing one part of the conversation. I had the idea to do some investigating myself. I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and I opened TikTok. I searched for Greta Van Fleet and scrolled until I could find anything remotely getting upset about at one in the morning. 

“It’s not a big deal,” Josh said with a sigh. “Maybe we can have her take it down.” I watched him as he rubbed the back of his neck. My heart started to race. What was he talking about? Who was he talking about?

“Yeah, it’s always all over Twitter,” Josh said with another deep sigh. I immediately closed out of my TikTok app and opened Twitter to see if I could find what he was talking about. I searched for Greta Van Fleet and my eyes couldn’t believe what they were seeing. There was a video of Sam and Danny singing “Two of Hearts” clearly taken in our Airbnb living room from earlier. To make matters worse, you could see me sitting between Riley and Josh in the background for a brief moment. Bewildered, I read several hundred tweets that posted the video or screenshots from it. No, no, no, no, this cannot be happening. I skimmed through tweets as I felt my blood getting cold. People had screenshotted the glimpse of Riley and me from the video and posted our picture with comments such as, “Who are these bitches?!” and “Anyone know who these girls are?” I started to feel ill as I realized my face was circulating around different forms of social media. 

I racked my brain trying to figure out who posted it because I couldn’t remember anyone being on their phone. I studied the angle and background of the video until it hit me: Abby must have recorded this and posted it. I noticed a TikTok username in the video, so I went back to my TikTok app to search for her account directly. Once I found her profile, I could see this latest video had over 10,000 views yet it hadn’t even been up for two hours. The caption read “Wild night in Nashville with Danny and Sam” and the comments were full of Greta Van Fleet fans clearly losing their shit. There was no way Abby knew who they were, right? 

I wanted to bust up into Abby’s room to kill her, but I figured that would just make things worse being charged with murder and all. I was going to demand that she delete the video, but I knew I would need Riley’s assistance because I doubted Abby would do anything I asked. I jumped up from the bed to go wake Riley up. When I started to make my way out of the room, Josh reached out and grabbed my arm.

“Hey, I gotta go,” he said into the phone. “Yeah, yeah, it will be alright,” he said again before hanging up. I stayed there in his grasp but as soon as he put his phone in his pocket, I started to move again.

“Slow down, where are you going?” Josh asked.

“I’m going to get Riley so she can kick Abby’s ass!” I practically yelled.

“Nobody needs their ass kicked,” Josh said, pulling me close to him.

“Actually, Abby could use a good one,” I said while my face was buried into his chest. “We literally talked about how nobody needed to post on social media before you guys got here.”

“Our management team is mad, but nobody in the band is. Not even Jake, surprisingly,” Josh said with a light laugh. I pulled away from him so I could study his face. 

“What does your team say?” I asked.

“Well, besides the fact that we were clearly hanging out in a living room with random girls, they are most concerned about the bottle of tequila in Sam’s hand,” he said with a shrug.

“What? You guys aren’t allowed to drink on camera or something?” I asked as my eyebrows furrowed.

“No, I believe that ship has sailed,” he said with a laugh. “It’s just we are in the works to launch that bourbon collaboration so now my team is worried about Sam holding a bottle of another brand of alcohol. I think they’re reading too much into it,” Josh said as he rubbed my forearms. Shit, I didn’t even think about that. I wasn’t sure how much detective work their fans would do analyzing the video, but I’m sure the fiancée of the bourbon company’s owner being in the video would be the icing on the cake. If the company even sees the video, I just hope it doesn’t make its way up the chain of command because Kenneth will recognize Riley and me instantly. 

“I need to go talk to Riley,” I said as I started to pull away.

“Wait,” Josh said, not letting me go. 

“Josh, Riley and I are in the background of the video. We need it to be taken down before someone identifies us,” I said. 

“I hate to tell you this, Strawberry, but I’m sure some of our fans already found out your family tree, place of employment, and blood type,” he said with a laugh. “Even if Abby deletes it, the video is online forever.” I wasn’t laughing. Instead, I felt like I was going to puke. With all of my might, I pulled away from Josh’s embrace and marched out the bedroom door to find Riley’s room.

“I’m gonna kill Abby!” I yelled as I entered her bedroom and turned on the lights.

“What the fuck?” Riley yelled as she pulled the covers over her eyes.

“Get the bail money ready because I’m going to jail tonight for kicking Abby’s ass!” I said as I made my way over to her bed with my phone in my hand. I pulled Riley’s covers off of her and shoved my phone in her face. 

“Look at this shit!” I yelled again. I watched Riley’s expression go from confused to enraged as she watched the “Two of Hearts” performance on TikTok. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Abby said through gritted teeth. 

“Josh’s management team called him about it. It’s all over TikTok, Twitter, probably more. I’ve already seen several tweets with screenshots of our faces wanting to know who these bitches are!” I exclaimed.

“Who are these bitches calling a bitch?” Riley asked as she started to get out of bed. I bit my tongue because I was too mad to laugh at her right now.

“I need you to take care of this with Abby because I will kill her,” I said.

“I can’t believe she would do this,” Riley said, making her way to leave the room.

“I can,” I said under my breath. I left Riley’s bedroom to return back to Josh who was waiting in mine. I left the bedroom door open so we could hopefully hear Riley confront Abby. 

“I promise it’s not a big deal,” Josh said while sitting on the bed. 

“It is to me,” I said as I got closer to the doorway to try to hear their conversation better. I was a little annoyed that Josh wasn’t as concerned about the video like I was, but I guess he’s used to his every move being watched and scrutinized by strangers. Surely he remembered what it was like before he was famous. Then again, from the limited research I did on the band, it seemed like this is the life he’s had ever since he was a teenager. I continued to eavesdrop even though it was hard to make out what the girls were saying. Suddenly, I heard the voices getting louder and before I knew it, Abby and Riley were in my doorway.

“What the hell is he still doing here?” Abby asked when she noticed Josh.

“Let’s start with why you posted that TikTok after we talked about not posting on social media tonight,” I responded. I would be damned if I became the one on trial.

“I didn’t think it would turn into what it did. Why didn’t anyone say these guys were–oh, I don’t know–famous?” Abby asked with a mocking tone.

“There are people online trying to figure out Riley’s and my identity right now because of this, Abby!” I exclaimed. 

“I didn’t think it would get more than my usual 100 views. I didn’t know they were famous! How is that my fault?” Abby asked, still refusing to take a sliver of responsibility. I imagined myself punching her in the face. I could feel my nails digging into my palms, so I knew I needed to relax before I did something I would regret.

“It’s your fault because you posted after we asked you not to,” Riley interjected.

“Or is this really because you don’t want people to know about what’s going on here between you two?” Abby asked while waving her finger at Josh and me. 

“Can I speak?” Josh voiced from behind me. I had almost forgotten he was there because I was consumed with my thoughts of strangling Abby. 

“Of course,” Riley said.

“I think everyone needs to take a breath for a moment. Abby, I’m sorry we kept our band a secret. We just wanted to hangout and feel like normal people tonight. It’s not your fault that your video somehow was discovered by our fans and got shared all over the internet. Riley and Strawberry, I’m sorry your picture is now on public display. Our band will post something outrageous tomorrow and it will all be forgotten within 48 hours. You should see some of the shit Sam has saved in the drafts. I promise it will blow over in a day or two,” he said so quietly I could barely hear him. I wanted to kiss him right then and there.

“I did delete the video from TikTok,” Abby said.

“Thank you,” Josh said with a sigh of relief. 

“So you’re not sorry for—” I began to say.

“Let’s all just go to bed and worry about this tomorrow,” Riley said.

“Yeah, I better get going,” Josh said as he stood up. I instantly felt my heart shatter into a million pieces.

“Are you good to walk him out and lock the front door?” Riley asked me. I was trying everything in my power not to burst into tears. 

“Yes,” I said while swallowing the lump in my throat. I watched Abby and Riley leave my bedroom. I stayed turned around with my back to Josh because I didn’t want him to see me cry. Suddenly, I felt his arms wrap around my waist and his chest was against my back. He buried his face into my neck and I lost the battle of holding back my tears. I felt the warm drops of liquid make their way down my cheeks. 

“Why are you leaving?” I asked while my bottom lip quivered. I still had my back to him but I knew that he knew I was crying. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to stay the night now. Tensions are high. We don’t need Abby getting the wrong idea, and–”

“Fuck Abby!” I said as I released a sob.Yep, he definitely knew I was crying now. 

“I also need to make a couple phone calls to make sure this will all be smoothed over tomorrow–well, today, technically–it’s already after two,” Josh said while his forehead rested on my shoulder. I couldn’t believe our second to last night together was now ruined. I continued to cry as he held me. I felt his lips kiss my neck as he made his way up to my ear.

“Tomorrow night, I am all yours. I promise,” he said in a whisper. I lifted my hands to my face to wipe the tears away. I moved his arms from my waist and headed toward the exit of the bedroom. 

“Come on, I’ll walk you out,” I said, never turning around to see his face.

I laid in bed scrolling through Twitter reading the hundreds of tweets talking about Abby’s video. Even though I felt immense amounts of sadness while I laid in bed alone, I did have to admit that some tweets made me smile. The ones about Sam and Danny especially made me laugh. Some of their fans have quite a sense of humor while some sounded like they needed to talk to a mental health professional. I kept scrolling hoping that my eyelids would get heavy and I could sleep, but I was too stressed out. I got up to get into my medicine bag to take some melatonin. It was nearly three in the morning and I wanted nothing more than to sleep this entire day off. From fighting with Riley, to fighting with Abby, and now Josh changing his mind about staying over, I was so mentally drained. I closed out all of the apps on my phone, put it on DND mode, and flipped it face down on the nightstand. 

I held my pillow tight wishing it were Josh that I was holding right now. I was so tired of crying, but I felt the pillow getting soaked with my tears. I inhaled deep breaths trying to think of anything other than the fact that I would soon be losing him for good. I reminded myself that we still had one more night together, so I tried to cling to that glimmer of hope as I allowed myself to rest.

#josh kiszka #joshua michael kiszka #josh kiskza fanfic #greta van fic #greta van fleet

[asktheplethaura]

If Only, If Only (Unicorn Wars Fanfiction)

(((Chapter One)))

Azulin had done it. He had been the last bear standing, and he had mauled the last standing unicorn. He had taken fate into his own hands, jumping with faith at the will of fate given to him by Padre. The yearning for something beautiful. Something eternal. Something MORE. He had been chasing this newfound dream for such a short time. Maybe that is where h went wrong.

Now, he lie here on the ground, watching as a looming monster of sludge and inky darkness towered over him. 

He was choking. The rotting flesh of the Unicorn he had just started to consume making his tongue burn and eye water. The flesh melting and spoiling further in his mouth. He felt his insides lurch, and his head grow light. 

Everything. Everything had been for nothing. 

This was where he would die. This is where he would meet the cruel end of his even more cruel life. Perhaps, it was a good thing. In his dying moments, it put everything into perspective. Everything he had ever done, or planned to do- it surely would have been only to make the now empty world worse. 

Massacre and Mass Special Genocide. All in the name of ascension and progression. In the name of fulfilling a prophecy that had lead to death and pain and misery. 

Was that even what he truly wanted? What did he even wish to accomplish? The become something beautiful, and wonderful. Eternal presence and power and beauty. 

All of it seemed so... trivial now. So useless. Lonely. 

Even from childhood, the thing he felt was loneliness. Not because he was alone, but because he had never done anything to feel more loved. He was spiteful ever since childhood. Vindictive, and angry; vengeance, pride and spite. He had always been drawn to such evil little impulses he had. He knew he was doing wrong, though, to be frank he always had. Once upon a time, he had known the word regret. 

In his final moments, regret felt like such a foreign, overwhelming feeling. 

The sludge over him had stabbed him through his abdomen. Playing with him, it was mocking his loss and enjoying his pain. In a way... the sludge reminded him of the current version of himself. Evil with no direction, and nothing to sustain it. Driven, but to where, after a certain point?

It was for the second time, in the longest time- Azulin cried. His innermost morality was showing, breaking through his cold, angry shell of a heart. All this time, his poisoned mentality was like a muddy lake. You know the ground is in there somewhere, but haven't a clue where to start looking. 

The world was growing fuzzy. Everything was turning into a blur of bleeding colors. Everything blended in an ugly hue. The world around him was so dark and lifeless. This is what the war had done. This is what he had contributed to. There was no eternity, nothing more than a lost dream and two collective societies of creatures who all died for nothing. Azulin didn't bother wiping his eyes free of the welling tears. His open socket burning because of the salty liquid leaking out of his somehow in-tact tear-duct. 

He felt cold. Ever so cold.

Despite how much he hated her before... Azulin finally admit to himself that he missed the warm grasp of his mother, pulling him into a hug- before resting her chin on his head as she pat his back. 

He missed his somber dad, patting him on the head when he was proud. 

He missed Gordi's voice. No matter how awful Azulin was... Gordi was there. The bigger, pink bear showing him nothing but love, despite the wretched way that Azulin had been around him his whole life. 

Gordi....

The tears started falling faster. The blue bear heard the cackling sludge monster, watching as it seemed to get bigger and bigger. It didn't matter anymore, anyways. The blue bear used every last bit of it's strength to flip over onto his aching stomach- and he desperately pulled his bleeding body over to his dead brother. The brother he had killed. 

Eventually, he was face-to-face with his deceased sibling. His clouded vision clearing for a moment. 

He stared despondently at the face of his brother. The darkened pink eyes unseeing as blood dripped down his forehead over his left side. Part of his brain was exposed, it seemed. Skull caved in from the rock bashed against it earlier. 

It was too late to say sorry. Sorry wouldn't even begin to cover all the mistakes he made. 

Willing himself to get closer, Azulin stifled a pained cry as he dragged his mostly limp body of a sharp rock. Eventually, he managed to wrap one of his bloodied, tired arms over Gordi- giving him something that would be about as close to a hug as his exhausted form could muster. 

Azulin blinked, tears falling down his face to the dampened, crimson-tainted grass. He swallowed. Even if sorry wouldn't fix anything... it was the best he could do. He had so much he wanted to apologize for, and his damaged throat wouldn't allow him. If he had such freedom to speak his ailing thoughts, he would probably make excuses. 

He can't justify what he has done. 

Leaning his head forward, Azulin closed his good eye, tightening his stiff arm around Gordi's shoulder, before closing his eyes. With his last breath, the very last thing he did manage to speak to the bigger, pink bear finally reached the open air. 

"I'm sorry... my brother."

At that point, the body of Azulin completely went limp, every tense limb freeing itself of stress. 

The last thoughts of the blue bear would only ever be known to himself, and himself only.

If there were ever anything he would want more in the world, it would be a fresh start. He would want to know how to cure his own vile nature. 

All he wished for now, was for a happy ending... for all of them.

((To Be Continued))

#unicorn wars gordi #unicorn wars azulin #unicorn wars maria #unicorn wars #unicorn wars fanfiction #unicorn wars angst #unicorn wars au #azulin #gordi #azulin unicorn wars

[persage]

My Responsibility -S.Harrington

Part 3- Poison

Whump! Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: After the events of Season 4, Steve must deal with the consequences of his injuries. When his condition worsens, only the reader realizes it and the truth is much scarier than you expected.

Part 2 Masterlist Part 4

Tags: Whump! Angst! Romance! Found Family trope. Steve HarringtonxBest Friend Reader. Also in this chapter a lot of Dustin, Steve and Robin and even a little bit of Steve and El

Taglist @redheadedfangirl1 @hcloangcls @thestarsandtheircoffee @johnricharddeacy @gloryofroses19 @xsammijoanneex @carpediem1219 @lexiecamposv I really hope you enjoy this part, thank you all for your support ❤️

If you want to be added on the tag list just ask

"It's like poison" Hopper says, arms folded, a thoughtful expression. In more than a day this is all you have: a vague theory you can't be one hundred percent sure about. Nothing is certain when it comes to the Upside Down.  Meanwhile those damn black veins are starting to cover Steve Harrington's neck too, leaving little room for hope. This isn't a possession, not at all a Will situation, and you find yourself wishing it was, 'cause it's something you've already gone through, something Steve can be saved from. Sadly, luckiness has stopped being on your side lately and are stuck with only a supposition and no solution, while real venom circulates in your friend's body slowly killing him. Dustin hasn't left Steve's side for a second, despite his silence and his protests. The image of Eddie Munson's lifeless body chases the boy like a ghost and he knows that if something  happens to Steve too - something bad, something definitive - he wouldn't survive. Harrington is the most important person in his life at the moment. He's his brother even if he tries to push him away. With Dustin, Steve is less harsh than he's been with you. When he looks at those hopeful, innocent eyes, forced to live horror from an early age, he can't be as cruel as he would like. Also Henderson has probably understood what he's doing, the kid's always been too smart.

"You won't protect us this way. You won't protect me, neither Robin. Or Y/N. You are making it worse" Ha snaps, looking down at him. Dustin has been standing beside the bed for hours, his back against the door like a guardian angel.

"I don't know what are you talking about shithead"

"I'm serious. She deserves to know the truth." He insists, Harrington shakes his head and denies. "There is nothing to say."

"You love her. She loves you." The kid is direct, too much. Steve's heart turns upside down on hearing certain words. He knows, maybe he has always known, and probably it's because he kicked out you yesterday or the fact that he's about to die and you haven't spoken since then, but every letter that comes out of Dustin's mouth hits him with the force of a bullet.

"You've spent years making things complicated between you for no reason. It's stupid." Henderson is right, you have always found a way to make things between you two difficult. Steve with Nancy, you with Mark Dallas and then someone else whose name he doesn't even remember 'cause none of them mattered. In the end, what's left after each failed relationship is you and him. He has wasted time and now time it's running out, you're not with him and if there is anyone in the world who deserves his love and his last words, that is you. You have defended and endured him, you have slept together through the worst nights and woke up stronger. You've been beaten by Russians and worse you have faced his father - his damn scary father - for him. You have collected his secrets and saw the good in King Steve when no one else could. Steve has never known loneliness from the day he met you and as the prospect of leaving this world grows more concrete, he realizes he doesn't want to die without you.

Selfish. He wants to touch you again. Not like before, not like this. He wants to touch you softly, let his hands slide down your neck and breasts and feel the skin against yours. He would kiss you. He would make love to you for the first and last time and he would be happy. He would be fine.

"Steve you should ..."

"I won't."

"You won't what?" Dustin asks.

"Drag her down with me. I can't and I won't."

"Stupid idiot" Henderson mutters, discouraged.

"You shouldn't be here." Harrington warns, lifting his head slightly to look at the kid in the eye. He fuckin' loves that boy, he would give everything to erase all the shit he has seen.

"Steve." His voice is full of pain. He has never really had any male authority figure to look up to in his life and one day Steve Harrington began to fill the role for him in his own weird way. "Please, don't die. I can't lose you too."

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

The second day passes faster than the first one. Unfortunately, time does not wait. Steve doesn't talk to you or even look at you. He is suffering like a caged animal. You know exactly what his stupid plan is. It's nothing different from what he has been doing for all his life: it' s like putting an arm in front of you in an attempt to protect you during a car crash, like diving in front of a danger. There's only a tiny difference: now he feels like he is the danger. You really want to shake him and yell at him until he regains some clarity but there's no time to talk, to convince him to let you come near and finally show him that you're not afraid and it's not his job to take care of your feelings, not while he's the one in danger. No, you don't have a single minute to discuss this kind of things, because you are desperately thinking of a solution. You're doing researches on the few books Nancy has managed to bring you, which have survived the destruction of the library and you're analyzing the situation, observing the evolution of his symtomps but that's not enough. You're going out of your mind. If only you could find a way, an antidote, then you shouldn't worry about his life anymore and you could scream at him angrily "You are acting like a child Harrington" and he'd wink at you or something, pretend nothing serious happened, then you would make peace. You always do. You feel your eyes close from fatigue, you haven't slept in days.

"You need to rest child, otherwise we'll have to take care of you too." Jim Hopper gently caress your face. Nights in Howkins, Indiana, are cold. The world is still split in half but you have forgotten it. You're smoking a cigarette and you don't say a word, your head resting on the man's shoulder. There is a strange peace. Then a cry. Now is your world which seems to really fall apart

Dustin wakes up in the dim lighting of the refuge taking a moment to gather his bearings. He keeps his eyes close, listening to the sounds around him. It sounds like... someone is suffocating? Oh no. Sitting up he looks around. He struggles to his feet, rushing closer to the bed. "Help!" He shouts. Hopper, Eleven and you are right next to him. Steve is lying on his back, mouth slightly parted as blood trickls down his lips and cheeks, dripping from his nose as well, eyes wide as he finds himself incapable to breathe. Eleven rolls him onto his side.

"Easy, kid, we've got you," Hop whispers.

"Help," Steve murmurs. "Please, please help me!" He is afraid. He is so afraid and he no longer cares to keep everyone away, to protect you. He doesn't want to die. Not now. Not ever. He's too young for this shit and he hasn't made his parents proud of him yet, he needs more. Just more. He doesn't want to lose you and doesn't want you to forget about him. Dustin cries, helpless.

"Y/N" Steve's eyes gain a little more clarity, "Y/N, please, I can't- I need -... I can't think. Robin, help me." Robin isn't even there. You feel bad because you have forced her to go home and now he needs her, he can't breathe and you just want to give him your lungs. You want him to live. Steve's head starts to fall and you place your trembling hands on either side of his face.

"Wake up!" You scream loudly. "Stay with me love, just stay awake for me please!"  His eyes roll back into his head and he is unconscious once more, feeling the pain slowly fade away, your face imprinted in his mind. Steve thinks that if he dies now at least it will be by your side. I'm so sorry Y/N.

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

Steve Harrington is not dead yet, contrary to what everyone thought. He rests under your watchful eyes, his breathing light and labored. You are more determined than ever. The way he has called your name, searching for you in his worst time like you were his only hope was like a punch in the stomach. No matter what this stubborn young man says: he needs you. He needs help and you won't let him go. You will  cope with your pain and your feelings later, now all you can do is walk back and forth.

"We need to find a solution quickly" Joyce says. She has run here with Nancy, Jonathan and Robin as soon as she found out what happened.

"Heat? Like with Will." Nancy proposes hopefully. You shake your head. "No this time it's different."

"Steve never complained about the heat, quite the contrary." Intervenes El, worried, occasionally glancing towards the room where the oldest boy rests. She has never had a strong bond with Steve, not like Dustin or Lucas, but he is part of the team and he has kept an eye on her during last years. He has bought her Eggos 'cause he knows how much she likes them, cooked his famous pancakes for her, secretly offered her free ice cream. Sometime he has even covered his escapades  from Hopper. Eleven doesn't want him to die, he doesn't deserve to. He deserves to be happy, to see his beloved hair turn white and he deserves to do it with you. You both need time. Eleven doesn't want to see you suffer.

"The boy wants the heat, he doesn't avoid it. He asked me for more blankets before." Hopper confirms, hugging Joyce. "He's got a fever it's normal" She replies, tired and worried. Once again you wish Steve could see them: they are all worried and they care for him. His parents may be out of town for work even during the apocalypse with their only son stuck in the middle of the disaster, without even the certainty that he is okay, but there are people who are fond of him. His parents never deserved him, but Steve has another family, gathered in a small room ready to do anything to protect him.

"Let's think again, it's a poison in his body and we have to take it out and slow the spread so ..." Nancy moves around the room, nervous as you are, a hand under her chin and a thoughtful gaze. "I have an idea." You state, looking at El. "You once pulled that monster out of your body." She nods.

"You can do it again." Dustin continues, understanding your plan.

"No, no. Stop, this time it's different. That stuff is in his blood, we can't let him bleed to death." This time it is Robin who is protesting. "There might be a solution." Admits El.

The plan is simple, or so it seems, the truth is it's scary and you don't know if you'll ever be ready to face it.  A tub full of ice is ready in the bathroom:"It will slow down the blood flow". With a small knife Hop will cut  Steve's skin superficially, from there Eleven will try to pull out that poison in the hope that it is not fused with his blood and it is somehow like a kind of parasite. You have no certainties but it is the only solution. Joyce is sitting in a small chair, she holds the first aid kit in her hands right now to take action.

Robin is sitting on the edge of his bed holding his hands while Steve continues to rest. He has never regained consciousness after the last attack. "It still seems crazy to me. We could kill him and if he dies, I will have to work alone in that shitty place and I don't want to, I can't. He...he is my best friend, platonic soulmate with a capital P. I can't bear to lose him... I can't let you do this to him, you can rather take my blood and do whatever you like with it but not this.He...will be so scared when he'll wake up. What if he freeze to death? What if..."

"Robin." You cut her off, stroking her hair. "He could die anyway. In fact, he certainly will if we don't try now." You take a deep breath. " I have always thought that being by his side is my mission for life, the purpose for which I was born for, especially in the last years of chaos and monsters. I ... he is the most important thing to me, I wouldn't do any of this if it wasn't the only chance we have."

You look at Steve and you feel so foolish. All those years together and you haven't been able to tell a stupid little boy that you love him with every muscle of your stupid little heart, more passionately and deeply than you've ever loved anyone in your life and now this thing, these words, they seem like the most natural thing in the world. They don't scare you anymore. You approach him, you talk in his ear hoping that some remote part of his mind can hear you.

"Don't die Harrington. You die, I die." He doesn't answer, he doesn't do anything, still unconscious. You feel that you are losing the pieces along the way, as if something has broken and you cannot fix it. He is slipping out of your hands and you can't hold him back.

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things x you #steve harrington whump #whump #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!oc #reader insert #steve and the party #steve and robin #steve and dustin #found family #st4 #stranger things 4 #Hurt steve harrington #steve harrington getting loved #jim hopper #jopper #joycebyers

[ssuperficialspacecadett]

Home is Where the Hurt is

Chapter Twelve of The One Condition Series | Chapter Thirteen

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5k

TW: Violent situation w/ a man

Summary: You and Din get to Eadu to get information from your contact.

Notes: Sorry for uploading a day late ! I had to attend a play my brother was in (he did so amazing !!). If you took a shot every time the word 'rain' is in this chapter you would either have alcohol poisoning or be in the hospital getting your stomach pumped.

Mesh'la: [MAYSH`lah]

Copikla: [koh-PEEK-lah]

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Eadu looks hauntingly beautiful from the comfort of your seat aboard The Crest. The swirling clouds appear to be much less threatening from your vantage point. You can see at least eight different cloud clusters on the side of the planet you are approaching. They all vary in size, but you know that each of them can bring destruction. After spending your whole life on this planet you had seen what they could do first hand. If your house's roof wasn’t secure enough, if your fences weren’t reinforced enough, the storms would rip it apart. You were grateful your father taught you how to weather the storms. It came in handy after you left your childhood home. There was no way you could live there after what happened. The rain may have washed your fathers blood off of the stones outside, but it couldn’t wash away the memories.

While you had the strength to leave and build a new home for yourself, you didn’t have the strength to do it on another planet. The good thing about living on a planet that had a sparse population was that it was easy to move away from everyone. The bad thing was that since the population was so small, not to mention tight knit, everyone talked. Not wanting to deal with the fall out Alden caused, you fled. You became a recluse after the whole incident. Moving clear across the planet so you didn’t have to be reminded of what happened. You became fully self reliant and only depended on yourself. There wasn’t anyone left to rely on if you were being honest. 

You were fine on your own for the first few years. The constant torrential downpour kept you busy with repairs on the shack you built. You had even stumbled upon a small herd of Nerfs. They roamed around your lodging and were a good distraction. At least for a while. You missed people and you missed human contact. There were times when you were so close to packing up your bag and returning to your small village, but the idea of seeing Alden or Thuban kept you away. In reality you had no idea if either of them were still around, yet you knew that no one really left Eadu. It was a planet that had a way of keeping you there. Maker, you were still here after everything. You had an inkling that your brother had left in order to not face the consequences for his massacre.

Maybe it was the loneliness or maybe it was your inability to shut out the violence in your mind; you finally got up the nerve to leave Eadu. You bought a ticket to Navarro, the guild’s reputation was known throughout the galaxy, and decided to end this once and for all. Then you met him: The Mandalorian, Tin Man, Mando, Din. You got closer to the real him with each name. You had no idea that he, and his kid, would come to mean so much to you.

“Be careful on entry. The heavy rain and thick cloud cover make it particularly difficult for ships to pilot through.”

Although Mando has never been to Eadu specifically, he has flown to and from enough planets to know how to operate The Crest in less than perfect weather conditions. This doesn’t stop him from listening to your warning. He enjoys hearing you talk about planetary safety because he knows that means you are worried about him. You remind him of the storm clouds. Your exterior is beautiful and enchanting, but underneath there is so much rage and rain. You hide it well, but you have allowed him to glimpse under your cloud cover to see what's really going on. He felt like he had gotten rammed by a mudhorn, again, when you told him of Alden’s familial connection to you. While your anger and pain were valid before, he knew the root of those emotions was betrayal. Your brother had killed your parents and left you for dead all for some credits to blow on spice that wouldn’t last. 

The entrance into the atmosphere is rocky like you predicted. You hold the baby securely in your lap as you watch Din grip the steering tightly. The rain beats down relentlessly on the glass encasing all of you. The only thing keeping you calm during this descent is the man piloting the ship. You breathe deeply in through your nose and out through your mouth and try not to focus on the ship's insistent shaking. When The Crest finally clears the storm covering the planet you are met with the next challenge: navigating the rocks. Eadu, along with being known for rainfall, has tall rectangular rocks that stick up from the ground. The heavy rain makes them all the more dangerous. 

“Okay!” You yell over the roaring around all of you. “I want you to head for the rock that looks like a giant brick!”

“They all look like giant fucking bricks!” Din yells back.

“Trust me! You will know it when you see it!”

You are right: he does know it when he sees it. As he maneuvers through overgrown stalagmight after overgrown stalagmight he sees the mother of them all. The rock formation is enormous. He can’t be sure how high it stretches, but it looks like it just barely brushes the tops of the clouds. It has a million lines etched into the face of it. No doubt from the years of rain it has weathered. 

“What now?!”

“Take a left and head west!” The sounds outside are deafening. “There will be a clearing you can land in! The rain lets up as you fly deeper into the planet!”

He takes a hard left at your instructions and you feel your stomach heave. The baby in your lap lets out a gleeful laugh and throws his hands in the air as if he is on a carnival ride. You look out the window and can make out whispers of lights coming from people's homes. They look like scattered stars from your position. 

“There!” You point.

You can see the clearing you told Din about a few minutes prior. It is just as you remember it. There is a small house sitting to the left of it that is encased by the rocky terrain. You see him nod and pull back on the thrusters. The rain has also lessened quite a bit. It is still coming down steadily, but you are able to see more clearly now. As the ship begins to engage its landing procedures, you close your eyes. The constant thrashing around has made you light headed and you can’t bear to look out anymore. You only open them when you feel a hand pat your thigh. 

“Are you alright?”

“I think I left my stomach back at that last turn.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Listening to the soft sounds of the rain on the exterior of the ship while you dig through your bag is so nostalgic. If you close your eyes, you swear you are six years old again trying to fight sleep in your childhood bedroom. The child plays on your bed with his little ball next to you as you feverishly delve into your satchel. 

“Where are you, you piece of shit?” 

Your bag is only so big. How can this one article of clothing evade your desperate hand? 

“AHAH! There you are!” 

You triumphantly pull out a tightly folded, nerf skin poncho. It is a staple piece of clothing to have here on Eadu. If you were without this, you were pretty much screwed. It kept you both warm on cold nights and dry from the rain when you had to go out and tend the Nerfs. Your charismatic display of emotion has caught the attention of the babe by your knees. He has decided that whatever you have in your hands is much more interesting than his favorite toy. He watches with wide eyes as you unfold it before him. He eagerly listens as you explain what it is to him. You remark at how similar your poncho is to his normal, everyday cloak. You pick him up and set him down on the crate beside you before donning an outfit from a lifetime ago. It is still just as warm as you remember. The material was soft and worn in against your skin. It had been a gift from your father on your fifteenth birthday. It was a bit too big then, but now you had truly grown into it. The child coos at you while you give him a spin to show off. It made your heart beam that he is so enthralled by something so personal to you. As you continue to spin, a flash of silver catches your eye. 

“I guess my party invitation got lost in the mail.”

Still giddy you throw your head back in laughter at his comment. “Look, the kid and I are twins now.” You move over next to the baby and smile up at the masked man. 

“That’s cute.” 

“Oh! Speaking of the word cute, I was wondering if you knew how to say it in Mando’a? I wanted a nickname for him.”

Din thinks back fondly when he heard you ask the child about it a while ago. There were so many times when he wanted to tell you what it was, but then he would have revealed that he was awake. So he opted to wait until you asked him and the time finally came.

“It’s copikla.”

“Copikla.” How fitting. The word itself even sounded cute. “Hear that little guy? You are copikla!”

Din loves the way you say words in Mando’a. It seems to just roll off your tongue like it was a language you were meant to speak. He sweetly watches how you kiss his kid and whisper the word to him over and over again. Your praises of the child are met with tiny giggles. 

“It’s not a word that is used for women though.” 

You turn to face him and raise your brow. “Oh? Why not?” 

“In Mando’a it is a word that is only associated with small children or animals.” 

“So, what would you call me?” You feel your cheeks burn slightly when you ask. 

“I would say that you are … mesh'la.”

“Mesh’la? What does that mean?”

“Beautiful. It means you’re beautiful.”

“I like that better than cute.” You feel bashful as you speak.

“It suits you better.” He walks over to you and the child that is still sitting contently on the crate beside you. “You are beautiful with this poncho on, you are beautiful in your regular clothes,” he moves to cover the kids ears. “And you are beautiful without any clothes at all.”

You bury your burning face in your hands. He has an unwavering ability to make you speechless. You've thought men only speak like this, minus the last part, in storybooks. For a man who apparently struggles to express his emotions and thoughts verbally, he sure was doing a really good job. You feel leather wrapped hands engulf yours and softly pull them down. You peek up at the beskar, ever gleaming in the hull light, and smile. 

“You really think so?”

“I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I know so.”

You softly squeeze his hands back to return your silent sentiment. The child to your left breaks the moment with a small whimper. All three of you spend the next few minutes collecting everything you need to depart the ship. You place all of your clothes back in your satchel, but not before checking on your credits. Truth be told you hadn’t checked on them since you started your journey with Din. You just want the peace of mind you think. You open a small pocket on the inside of the bag and look in. Of course everything was in its place. You breathe a small sigh of relief, close everything up, and swing it over your shoulder.

“Ready?” You call out to Din as he is closing the armory. 

“I’m ready if you are.”

The rain has slowed down since flying deeper into the planet, but it is still enough to soak you to the bone. You pull your poncho closer to you and look over to your two companions. The child has been placed in Din’s own satchel. You get one last look at him before he is closed up inside the small space. You snap your head forward, pull your hood tight over your face, and step out onto the rainy ramp. 

“This is Thuban’s house.” You tell him as the two of you head for the blacked out house. “When we get up to his door there will be cover for you and the kid to stand under.”

“What about you?” He moves to cover the satchel with his cape to further protect the child.

“I’m going to knock until the bastard opens the door and then I’m going inside whether he likes it or not.”

“What if I don’t like it? You going inside alone.”

“Do you trust me?” You move your gaze from the house to meet his. The water glides right off of him; he looks statuesque. For a split second you have the urge to kiss him right here and now. He has been nothing but supportive and attentive and caring. He let a strange woman board with him and allowed her to drag him across the galaxy on a bloody mission all to quell her demons. 

“Until the universe burns out.”

With that the two of you finish the small trek in silence. The closer to the door you get, the larger the pit in your stomach grows. Maker, what if he really doesn’t know where Alden is? What if he doesn’t even live here anymore and we are bothering a kind elderly couple in the middle of the night? What if, what if, what if. When the door finally looms in front of you, Din moves to the right of the door with the child still packed away. He doesn’t rush you when you don’t knock at first. He allows you to catch your breath and collect your thoughts. You look over at him, fist raised towards the door, and mouth thank you.

You knock on the door three times, then pause, three times, pause, and then a final three times before you pull your hand completely away. This probably looks like you are being impatient to Din, but in reality this is you and Thuban’s secret knock. You two had made it up years ago so you always knew when the other was at your door. While it feels like you have been waiting for an eternity, you know logically that it has only been a few seconds. You see a small light flick on through the window and hear muffled grumbling from inside. The lock clicks and you see the door handle start to turn. You take one final breath of fresh air before the stench of a spice infested house greets you. 

When Thuban opens the door he looks like he has seen a ghost. His lifeless eyes look you up and down before making their way back up to your face. His mouth hangs agape and his hair is standing up on one side. If you weren’t so filled with rage at the sight of him, you would have felt bad that you woke him up with your rhythmic knocking. 

“Is that…is that really you…?” He mumbles your name.

“From beyond the grave.” You say dryly. “Can I come in?”

He doesn’t say anything as he moves over. You offer up a small smile to Din before you disappear into the disheveled house. You aren’t surprised to see that nothing inside the house has changed. The wall is littered in the same photos, the carpet by the couch still has a light blue stain from you spilling bantha milk, and dirty dishes lay piled in the sink. You follow him hesitantly into the living room and stand awkwardly as he takes a seat in the recliner. 

“You can sit if you want.” 

“I’m fine. I don’t want to be here longer than I have to.”

“Still holding a grudge after ten years I see. How do you sleep with so much hate in your heart?”

“Like a baby.” You lie. 

“Well,” he lets out a thick cough. “What brings you to my humble abode so late in the night?”

“Alden.” You see him get visibly tense. “I need to know where he is, Thuban.” 

“How the fuck would I know?” He moves his hands behind his head in an attempt to seem unbothered. “He skipped town after he…after his freakout.”

“I know you still keep in contact with him. The least you could do is tell me what you know about him.”

You could have sworn you see guilt flash across his face before he answers you. 

“In the last transmission I got from him, a month ago, he was on Daiyu. He said he was working in some shitty spice lab. Some place with a Vulptice, those crystal fox things, as its logo.”

Of fucking course he is working in a spice lab. After all this time he is still enslaved by this damn drug. You suppose after all the shit that went down there really was no turning back. The only thing he could do was use spice to fry his brain and get so sky high that he ignores what he did. You envy that a little if you’re honest. He could just forget all the carnage he left in his wake. You didn’t have that privilege. 

“What’s it to you anyway? I never thought I would see you again, let alone hear you want to know where he is.” His tone has progressively gotten more agitated since you arrived and started bombarding him with questions.

“I just need to find him, okay?”

“Maker, you are just as delusional as you were ten years ago.” 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” The rage you are feeling is beginning to show itself.

“You couldn’t save him then and you can’t save him now.”

“I don’t want to save him!” You belt out. “I want to kill him! I-I want to…kill him.”

Thuban just stares at you with raised brows. If he wasn’t taking you seriously before, he definitely is now. He moves his hands out from behind his head and sits up in the chair. 

“You want to kill him? You? This is a joke right?”

“Why would I have dragged myself back here if I was joking?”

“I don’t think you have it in you.” 

It enrages you to know that he is right. Even with all of the hate you harbor, you know that you couldn’t be the one that pulls the trigger. That's why you hired a bounty hunter after all. 

“I don’t really care what you think about me, Thuban.” You breathe exasperatedly. “I’m leaving.”

“Woah woah woah,” he rises to his feet and takes a step towards you. “You can’t just show up here and bring up our past, ask questions about your brother, and think you can just leave.” 

You have been struggling to keep your anxiety at bay since you arrived on the planet, but the dam just broke. As much as you don’t want to show him you are scared, you take a step back as he advances on you. 

“Yes I can. I don’t owe you anything.”

“The fuck you do. I just gave you Alden’s location.” He closes the gap between the two of you. You can smell the lingering traces of his drug use on him. You try to back up more, but the backs of your knees connect with the arm of the couch. 

“I’m going to leave just like I did ten years ago.”

“You stupid fucking bitch-” 

You hear a blaster cock behind you and watch his eyes dart up to where the sound came from. While he takes a few steps back he still doesn’t remove his eyes from the weapon.

“Who the fuck are you?” 

“The last person you’re going to see before you die if you talk to her like that again.”

You feel a hand wrap around your stomach and pull you flush against cold beskar. In an instant you feel secure. You were proud of yourself for holding your own for as long as you did, but you knew the situation was starting to spiral out of control. For the first time in your life you were grateful for the thin infrastructure of Eadu housing. Nothing can happen to you now that he is here. 

“We are going to leave, just like she said, is that going to be a problem?”

“No man, no problem here.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Din turns your body to face the door and lightly pushes you towards it. He stays sizing Thuban up for a little while longer and then turns to leave himself. The Mandalorian has just cleared the door frame when Thuban decides to poke the proverbial hornet's nest. 

“I knew you didn’t have the guts to do it yourself. You hired a bounty hunter to do your dirty work for you. You were a pussy then and you’re a pussy now.”

Before you have time to even turn around a blaster fires. You flinch on instinct and your blood runs cold at the guttural scream that Thuban unleashes. You spin around and see Din standing outside the house with his blaster in his outstretched hand; the weapon is still smoking. Thuban is writhing on the floor and gripping his right knee.

“You shot me in my fucking knee cap, you psychopath!” He snarls. 

The more you look, the more horrified you become. Blood has already soaked all the way down his pant leg and splattered all over the carpet. You can’t even see the old stain anymore. He looks so pathetic laying there in a fetal position. He is yelling obscenities at both you and Din through his tears.

“I decided that was better than killing you. Now you get to live with a permanent, painful reminder of the part you played in all of this.”

“F-fuck you man. Fuck you.”

Din turns around, completely unphased, and takes your limp hand in his. “Let’s go, Cyar’ika. You don’t need to be here anymore.”

He guides you away from the house, away from Thuban, and into the rain. You can still hear him cursing the two of you as you depart. You grip Tin Man’s hand harder with each word you hear slug at you. You know you are probably hurting him, but he says nothing as he ushers you to The Crest. The farther out you get from his house, the harder it is to hear him. The sounds of rain and of two pairs of feet splashing in the mud has taken over. You allow him to mindlessly pull you up the ramp and into the hull. He takes you over to his bed and gently pulls your soaked poncho off your body.

“Climb in.” His voice is soft and husky. “I’m going to put the kid down for bed and then get us off this makerless planet, are you going to be okay?”

“Yes. Just come back to me.”

“I couldn’t stay away from you if I tried.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Your body has fully relaxed by the time you hear him open the bedroom door. You were grateful for the time alone actually. It allowed you to collect your thoughts about what happened. There is no guilt in your body about what happened to Thuban. His injury is a small price to pay for his actions. You also feel lighter. You stood up to him and you ended up getting what you needed to find Alden. Everything is falling into place for once in your life and it was all thanks to the man standing at the foot of the bed. 

“I already put the blindfold on. You’re safe.” 

“That’s my good girl.” Voice already unmodulated.

Your body tingles as his weight makes itself known on the cot. You just want him close to you so bad it hurts. Before he even gets a chance to properly position the covers over his naked body, you wrap your arms around him. He immediately responds by holding you tightly against him as the two of you lay on the bed. His skin smells like him, but also of rain and earth. It’s slightly cold due to the rain that had soaked through his tunic. 

“You’re shaking.” He whispers into your hair. “Did the rain get you wet out there?”

“It wasn’t the rain.”

His breath shudders as he holds you and your words seep in. You place your lips to the crook of his neck. His heart rate steadily picks up the longer you linger there. You allow your tongue to trace the muscles leading up to his jaw. The scruff he has tickles your nose as it brushes it. His grip on your body deepens as you continue your secret exploration. Your lips find the patch in his beard that is sparse with hair. It is probably one of your favorite spots to kiss him. Your lips fit so perfectly there. 

“I want to taste you.” He whimpers. One of his hands had found its way up to the back of your head and intertwined itself in your hair. The other pushing your core into him. The lack of pants has left little to the imagination and allowed you to feel him harden with each kiss and flick of your tongue. You move your hand down and grip onto him. You feel him breathe out heavily into your hair as you start to pump him. 

“I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

“I want…” his breath hitches again as you continue teasing him. “I want you to sit on my face.” 

You had been dreaming about this since he gave you permission to blindly feel his face. While you were nervous, you knew this was something you both were salivating at the idea of. You tell him ‘yes’ and move to sit up. You take off your shirt and set it to the side. Your nipples harden as the cool air of The Crest greets them. Next, you remove your pants and finally your underwear. As you patiently kneel next to him, warm hands come up to cup your breasts. You back arches at his delicate touch.

“Are you sure I won’t suffocate you?”

“Absolutely not, but I couldn’t think of a better way to go if you did.” You can hear a devious smile in his voice. “Now, come here.”

You crawl up next to his head and place your hands on each side of his face. You lower yourself and kiss him deeply. You want him to feel the depth of gratitude and appreciation you have for him. He nimbly slips his tongue into your mouth and you moan.

“A kiss for good luck.” You say as you pull back from him. He playfully pats your ass before you throw your leg over his shoulders to the other side of the cot. With his hands finding their way to your hips, you maneuver yourself until you are right over his mouth. You can feel your body humming in anticipation as you sink down to meet him. As your body connects with his tongue an unholy moan escapes him. You brace yourself against the wall in front of you and suck air in through closed teeth. 

He takes no time to start absolutely devouring you. He expertly moves his tongue over your folds before slipping it inside of you. Your body jerks forward as his nose cuts the tensions building inside of you by rubbing against your clit. As you begin to thrash against him, his grip on you tightens. He even moves his left hand to your ass. Rocking your body forward and backward over him to help stimulate you all the further. You cry out wantonly as he laps up what you leak for him, what you leak only for him. 

He grunts hungrily under you as you continue with the rhythmic motion he helped you set. He moves his head to the right and left underneath you and it sends shockwaves that can be felt all the way to your toes. You don’t know if you want to get off or keep going. The sensation is so overwhelming. Always one step ahead of you and willing to push you to the edge, he speaks.

“You’re not going anywhere. I’m not done with you yet.” 

He quickly moves his mouth back to you and circles your clit with his tongue this time. The combined slickness from yourself and his saliva has your body tierting on the edge. You place your forehead on the wall and ball your hands into fists as you wait to come undone for him. A starving animal has nothing on the way he is tearing you apart. You ache to have the ability to look down and watch him work you. To see if his brows knit together in concentration, to see if he closes his eyes or keeps them open, and to see if his nostrils flare with pride.

“Don’t stop. Yes, right there.” You mewl. “I’m going to cum.”

He keeps his pace consistent. Maker, he is perfect. He doesn’t slow down or speed up, he doesn’t change position, he just holds steadfast. Within seconds your body comes apart at the seams for him. You feel your core tighten as you gush onto the man below you. His immoral moans only aid you in cumming harder on him. He helps you through your orgasm the entire time. Your body is weak and slick with sweat from all the pleasure he just gave you. You shakely move off of him and sit back lightly on his chest. Your combined breaths are heavenly to listen too as they tangle together. 

“Fuck me.” You say breathlessly. “That was incredible.”

Your hands find his hair and hide themselves in his disheveled curls. 

“I’ll take you up on that offer.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

#din djarin fanfiction #din dijarin fanfiction #din djarin #din x reader #din x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #star wars #slow build #slow burn #one condition

[saintsenara]

Hey, hope you're having a wonderful day. Scylla and Charybdis was how I found you, but I really do love Other Women and of Purer Blood. One, I love love love your portrayal of Severus Snape and just how you depict the whole mess that he got himself wrapped in his late teenage years. I rarely see such good portrayals these days. Second, I love how you wrote Narcissa and the woes of her marriage life and the pure loneliness she feels and how you twisted a line from canon to a whole new side of both Narcissa and Severus. I simply adore how you write the women of the HP world. Especially now with Tiktok and the eruption of new ships like Nobleflower or Quillkiller - I couldn't care less about new ships but most of the works are original and I cannot align them with the characters written in canon. Thank you for your hard work. <3

thank you very much @be-at-peace05, i am having a wonderful day and i really appreciate this lovely comment.

i'm delighted to see scylla and charybdis get a shoutout, not least because i'm dawdling on the next chapter and shall now get off my arse and finish it.

the toxic mess that is severus snape/lord voldemort is my poison of choice, not least because i think it has so much potential to not just be horrific. after all, the canonical voldemort really likes him, the canonical snape clearly has a thing for powerful men, and the material circumstances which led to snape's radicalisation are something which voldemort - to be fair to him - seems to be the only person in britain willing to do anything about. there's so much complexity there, not just for a deep dive into the social and political context of seventies britain (wizarding and muggle) which gives me a chance to indulge my conviction that the whole thing is like the troubles, but also for - despite all the odds - a love story.

it also gives me a chance to indulge my own anti-marauders-fanon agenda and write regulus black as a complete knob.

the conspiracy theory hill i will die on is that narcissa malfoy/severus snape is canon. maybe not that it's a full-blown, lady chatterley's lover-style sexual affair as in other women and of purer blood, but that there is some sort of closeness between them that everyone except lucius has clocked.

this is because i am convinced - convinced - that narcissa is indeed the person voldemort is referring to in the line from which the story gets its name.

he desired her, that was all, but when she had gone, he agreed that there were other women, and of purer blood, worthier of him.

[incidentally, from a scylla and charybdis viewpoint, i love the idea of those two sitting down for a chat about girls.]

this is a much less charitable lucius than i usually write (or, at least, a less charitable lucius in his relationship with narcissa - he's a dick towards most other people regardless of the story), but it ended up being really interesting to think about how he might function as the sort of aloof aristocratic husband found in so much british literature and, in particular, how that coldness might interact with the oppressiveness of narcissa's confinement within what are clearly - even if jkr thinks otherwise - quite oppressive gendered expectations.

i'm always struck by the fact that narcissa's narrative mirror - molly weasley - must be quite lonely. she's the only member of the family not interested in quidditch, she doesn't seem to have a social circle, her self-conception is directed though her children, she must spend her child-free hours - so every day, once ginny's at school - just rattling around the house. and i could easily see how narcissa - at the other end of the social spectrum - might feel the same. she has no real friends, she feels excluded by lucius' parents, she knows she should be pregnant but doesn't seem to be able to get there, and she spends her days drifting around her enormous house. she also feels - and i think this is important to understanding her - extra pressure to conform because neither bellatrix nor andromeda have.

and then snape - who spends canon being remarkably tender to her - turns up and upends her world...

#asks answered #scylla and charybdis #other women and of purer blood #attention seeking behaviour

[earisridesagain]

Earis Recs 4.1 - I Put A Spell On You

Witch!Rey has definitely put a spell on me.

When Rey is a witch, I know I'm going to have a good time reading. The identity of ‘witch’ serves as a great lens to look at Rey’s self-sufficiency, knowledge, and power - along with digging into her loneliness and lack of trust. Plus, I love stories about badass witches and Rey is such a good one. Most witch!Rey stories are au’s - usually historical fantasy or modern urban fantasy. They run the gamut from fun and cute to dark and violent. In many of them, Kylo Ren/Ben Solo is also non-human, such as a vampire, werewolf, or demon, but sometimes he is a human. I don't have any canonverse fic where Rey is a type of witch, like a Nightsister. So, if anyone knows one, please send it my way. Otherwise - enjoy!

Also on Dreamwidth and Twitter

1. The Witch in the Wood

Authors: HarpiaHarpyja and Inmyownidiom Tumblr for HarpiaHarpyja Twitter for HarpiaHarpyja Twitter for inmyownidiom

This was one of the first ‘Rey is a witch’ fics I ever read and it’s enchanting, no pun intended. Set in a fantasy world, Kylo Ren is a knight who fights monsters to defend the kingdom and make up for his crimes. He takes on an assignment to rescue a beautiful princess from an evil witch. But when he makes his way into the forest, he meets Rey, a lovely, brilliant, independent young witch who happens to look like a woman from Kylo’s dreams. Rey is equally intrigued by Kylo and the way he makes her feel, but she also has to deal with an evil poisoning her forest.

Status: Complete Rating: Explicit Warnings: violence and gore, necessary patricide, angst

2. The Devil Is Not as Black As He Is Painted

Author: aemondkinslayerx (could not find other socials)

Rey is a young witch, and not quite as successful as she would like. Plus, she has finals and they are kicking her ass, so she tries to do a little spell to help herself out. Only she accidentally calls on a lord of hell named Kylo (or Ben) and now she is stuck in a small apartment with a demon trapped in a summoning circle until she can find a spell to return him whence he came. Good thing he likes scarfing Doritos and binging sitcoms.

Status: Complete Rating: Mature Warnings: A little bit dub-con, if you squint; Kylo gets a bit possessive

3. Nine in the Afternoon

Author: RamboBrite Twitter Tumblr

Rey is very happy working for Luke in his magical apothecary shop. The only fly in the ointment is Luke’s nephew, a snooty asshole who thinks he is too good for retail and too big for the shop. One day, however, Luke leaves Rey in charge of the shop, and in charge of his naughty nephew. The same day, the shop receives a shipment of a very potent batch of a very special pollen. Can you guess what happens? (n.b. This is also a sex pollen fic!)

Status: Complete Rating: Mature Warnings: Dub-Con due to Sex Pollen

4. Good Fences

Author: quamquam20 Tumblr Twitter

For me, this is THE Witch!Rey + Vamp!Ben fic. It’s got everything - independent, creative, brave, compassionate Rey and moody, mysterious, dangerous, but oddly gentle Ben. Magical artifacts, interesting rules, and of course, hot sex.

Status: Complete Rating: Explicit Warnings: Violence

5. Our Endless Numbered Days

Author: frito_reys Twitter Tumblr

This fic is not yet complete, but I HAD to rec it. One of my historical interests is the Salem witch trials, mostly because they are a truly bizarre moment in history and a revelatory glimpse into the worst of human behavior. Here, Ben is Magistrate Judge and is part of the witch trials, but his wife, Rey is definitely a witch. So, go read, and give love and comments to the author.

Status: Not finished, 1/3 chapters Rating: Explicit Warnings: Historical accurate misogyny, temporary character death, historical accurate violence and injustice

6. The Baker and the Lily

Author: steelandtemper

Werewolf Ben is very intrigued when a woman moves to the edge of the town where he is the baker, and learns that she is a witch. He is concerned for her because the town might now be very friendly to a witch, and because her cottage is dangerously close to the territory of his old pack.

Status: Complete Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: Some Violence

7. Unfamiliar

Author: SolarLilith Twitter Tumblr

Rey is a witch and binds a demon, Kylo Ren, as her familiar. After a horrible attack forces Rey to drop her wards, he reverses their situation and binds her as his familiar, bound to serve him and all his violent whims. DARK.

Status: Complete Rating: Explicit Warnings: Dark Fic, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat; Rape/Non-Con, Murder, Violence, Gore, Sexual Slavery, Forced Pregnancy, Forced Body Modification, Forced Lactation

#earis recs #reylo #star wars #ben solo #kylo ren #rey #fanfiction #fic recs #fanfiction recs #earis #witch!rey #star wars sequel trilogy

[sanctuary1988]

~ Fate's Cruel Hand |9| Gwi

French: /the petals of love/

Pairing: Gwi x fem! noble! Reader

Summary: A heartless vampire falls in love for the first time in centuries of loneliness. Passion, secrets, betrayal and love drown the royal palace. Will your love for Gwi prevail through time or will it wither away like a fallen rose petal? Maybe love was his punishment, maybe love was your salvation. Or wasn't it a curse to you both? Because, who can beat a race against time? Who can love in the dark? Who can love without truth? After all, even the most beautiful flower will wither away and end in ashes of time, remembered only by the one who cherished her the most.

Warnings: strangers to lovers?, fluff, angst, TENSION (again), general vampire stuff, melancholy, mentions of illness, crying, character death, HEAVY ANGST, feelings of grieving and sorrow, power play, secrets, period typical misogyny, age gap (huge), dark romance, conflicting emotions, feelings of lingering and wishing for someone/something, historical! AU, royal! AU?, cannon copilant, (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 5.1k words

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME & Welcome to chapter 9, darlings! A little treat from me to thank you all for all the love this story I began writing for sheer fun is receiving. Tagging @yumisventingmachine and @my-day6 for their unwavering support for this story. And by @yumisventingmachine wish, I wrote another poem for this chapter as well! Let me know your thoughts in the comments! I'd love to hear from you, loves. Enjoy! 🫶🫶🫶

*A/N: There's a poem I wrote for this story that you'll find in this chapter, I do not allow for it to be used in any other media or to be reposted/translated.

In solitude, I find your voice. 

A voice that’s already dead. 

My light was consumed by darkness within. 

A punishment, a curse that I cannot forgive. 

The petal has fallen from the rose. 

The nightmare awakened at dawn. 

An instinct that comes and goes. 

An immense power, yet also my one flaw. 

I have killed my heart. 

Like poison, my words command. 

A demon of temptation, 

a monster of damnation. 

The echoes of your voice are gone,

I can no longer hear you say my name. 

A name from a man that is now dead. 

Killed by the claws of my own fate. 

With a sigh, you closed the book before you put it aside. Each time you read one of the poems of the mysterious book you grew more and more melancholic. For they were beautiful in their own bittersweet nature. You understood that the author had lost someone or something precious to them. And the thought of it made your heartstrings being pulled cruelly. 

It was late at night but you couldn’t sleep. The news of your mother’s illness were still too fresh in your mind. Your heart ached at Gwi’s negation for you to go to her side and be there for her when she needed it the most. Defeated, you stood up, taking up the silver chamberstick at your side, you couldn’t help but observe the intricate design of it. The plate was made with cravings and subtle undulations that resembled a round leaf while the central socket was made into a beautiful rose where the candle stood proudly among the darkness. 

You left your room in silence, ignoring the whispers of your soul as they spoke to you about sorrow and grief. The shadows around you seemed to swallow down the only beacon of light you had in your life. You entered the throne room only to find Gwi sitting on the magnificent chair. You bowed down at him, not uttering a word before you continued to walk to the other side of the underground palace, where the library, your sanctuary, was. 

“It’s late, petal.”

You stopped in your tracks at the sound of his deep voice resonating across the walls. You gulped, turning slowly to face him while your heart raced within you. His eyes, as dark as the night itself were fixed on you with a mixture of authority and concern in their depths. 

“Why are you wandering the halls at this hour?”

You didn’t question why he was up himself. You didn’t question the slight worry that flashed in his eyes, or had it been the candles flickering around him? You didn’t protest about his decision that had crushed your heart. 

“I can’t sleep, My Lord. You said I didn’t need permission to visit the library.”

He hated it. He hated how sad your voice sounded. He hated how dull your eyes looked. He hated how cold you had grown to him. And he hated that he had caused all your pain. His expression softened at your words before he stood up and walked towards you, his movements graceful and commanding. Gwi stood in front of you, his presence was both overwhelming but oddly calming as well. 

“You have been troubled ever since I refused to let you visit your mother.”

His fingertips lifted your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes that you were so trying to avoid. His touch, that had once sent shivers down your spine, now felt cold against your skin and you missed the warmth that had blossomed between you both before the dreadful letter arrived. 

“I know that my decision hurt you, but I will not apologise for it. You belong to me, flower, and I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

“Even if that means breaking my heart?”

Your eyes held a fierceness he had never seen before, the tension rose like a tidal wave. The room spinned with unspoken words that were left to linger in the realm of your thoughts as you lost yourself in his eyes.

“Write to her.”

It sounded more like a command rather than a suggestion. But the softness of his eyes gave him away. His touch left your skin and he straightened back up, towering over your figure with his intimidating gaze. 

Gwi avoided your question for he did not want to speak the answer. He looked down at you with a mixture of longing and sorrow that swirled in the depths of his power. 

“Words are not compared to one’s presence, My Lord.”

Your answer was said without emotion whatsoever. It lacked your usual happiness, your cheerful tone. Your curiosity. It was flat as it danced through the night. 

“But do not deny the comfort they bring. There’s a reason why you are going to the library right now. Write to her, petal. I will see that your letters reach her and I’ll personally hand you her responses. You have my word.”

You looked up at him, searching for any sign that he was deceiving you, that he was making you believe a false truth so that you could move on from your worries and early grief. But you found none. There was not even a spark of lies in his dark eyes. So you sighed to yourself, in either surrender or acceptance you did not know anymore. 

You nodded at him, a subtle movement of your head that was enough to calm his heart as it weighed down with guilt for your heartbreak. A heartbreak he knew was necessary. A pain that rooted into the selfish desires of the vampire lord who claimed you as his one and only rose. 

You sat in the library, your mind wandering beyond your soul. Gwi watched you as he pretended to read a book, his eyes glancing at you from time to time. Silence drowned the sanctuary of books, the soft scraping of the brush against the paper filled your ears, quieting down the screams from your mind that threatened to pull you down a pit of anxiety. 

He watched you write, pour down your heart into the ink and parchment. The rose chamberstick you had carried with yourself rested at the corner of the small desk you were currently working at. The single flame flickered softly and the shadows bathed your beauty in darkness that suited your grey soul. 

Time was a foreign concept as you wrote, character after character, emotion after emotion. Word after word until the paper was filled with your handwriting. You sighed, putting the brush aside and waiting for the ink to dry. Your mind was still lost in your own cruel sentiment. Your heart felt heavy within you, was love really such a punishment? 

You looked up, your eyes meeting the ones of the vampire lord as he watched you with a certain sorrow in his dark eyes. You could have melted if you weren’t feeling betrayed by him and his decision of keeping you with him. 

You broke eye contact, a silent conversation that only you both could understand. A silent testament of pain and regret. A subtle wave of emotions that neither of you were fast enough to grasp. You folded your now dry letter before standing up, your yellow hanbok dress a contrast to your dulled out emotions. With silent steps, you walked to where he sat, his eyes followed your every move until he looked up at you from his sitting position. 

“You promised, My Lord. Please make it so that my mother receives this letter.”

Gwi looked at you, his eyes glued to the letter in your hand as you extended your arm to him. Then he looked at your expression, completely ridden of any emotion that had once graced your beauty. 

He took the letter from your hold, his fingers brushing yours. With a gentle motion, you bowed down at him before turning around with the intention of returning to the desk and picking up your chamberstick so that you could go back to your room but his hand stopped you as it held yours with a firm yet still gentle grip that sent shivers down your spine. You swallowed, only for then to look back down at your lord and master of the heart. 

“You do not love your father at all yet you have an interesting affection for your mother. Why’s that, petal?”

Your hand gripped his subconsciously as the question spoken by his deep voice made you remember things you had long since buried in the depths of your mind. 

“Would it make a difference if I told you?”

But he did not answer. Silence was his response. It wouldn’t matter whether you spoke of your burden or not when it came to Gwi’s decision of letting you go and visit your mother. It wouldn’t make a single difference. But his eyes spoke a language of silent compassion that made you sigh to yourself. 

“Sit down, flower.”

You obeyed. His murmured order made you act on command as he pulled you softly to the soft cushion next to him and you sat by his side while shadows swallowed the underground palace in its secrets and lies. 

“I spent the happiest years of my life with my mother. She taught me many things, even when I was just a mere child, her experience and her love made me survive in the world my father lived in.” 

The vampire lord listened to you with his complete attention. His eyes never left your face, even when you broke eye contact and stared into the burning flame of his own chamberstick, lost in your world of memories. He was still holding your hand, and his soft squeeze over your fingers brought you back to reality as you took a deep breath before continuing. 

“My father travelled a lot. There were things happening between them, things that I was too young to understand so he took me away from my home when I was twelve. I never saw my mother again.”

“Is that why you hate your father?”

You looked at him as he voiced that question. Your eyes shining with unshed tears at the confession of your soul that you had kept hidden for so many years it felt strange to let go. To speak of the secrecy. Of the past. Of the unchangeable times you had to live through. 

“At first, yes. But then I realised he was never a good father to me so I simply did not love him as a daughter is supposed to do.” 

It broke his heart to see you so shattered and vulnerable. So sad. For you were his flower, the beacon of light that had suddenly appeared in his life between the darkness he was drowning in. You were his most precious possession, his treasure. And it pained the seemingly heartless vampire to see you suffer like this, more so because your pain rooted to his cruel negation. 

“You really miss your mother, don’t you petal?”

A tear slipped down your cheek as you nodded. A lump formed in your throat, killing the words you so wanted to voice out. His other hand lifted in the air, hovering over your cheek as he hesitated for a moment. A second. A second too long before his skin touched yours. Wiping away the tear that slowly rolled down your precious skin. 

“Give me a week. Then we’ll go visit her.”

Your eyes lit up at what he said. His words had such power, such command that he was able to either make you sad or give you the world with a couple of sentences. It made your heart skip a beat and your hand squeezed his in gratitude. 

“Really? You are not playing with me, are you My Lord?”

Gwi tilted his head to the side, a soft, nearly hidden smirk danced over his lips at your evident change in mood. From sour to sweet. From grey to yellow with just two sentences that left his lips in deep waves of truth. 

“I’m not that cruel, sweet flower.”

You smiled. That smile he had secretly missed. That smile that was enough to light up his life. Even when he didn’t voice it out to you. That smile that was your most beautiful jewel. 

Ever so subtly you leaned into his touch, his warmth hand cradled your face with such delicacy as if you were going to break. 

“Thank you, My Lord. Really, thank you. I can’t express how much this means to me.”

Your words were whispered only for him to hear. The intimacy of the moment grew in your heart like petals that wrapped your soul with feathering touches. His touch lingered on your skin, his hold gentle and almost reverent. He could see the myriad of emotions that swirled in your beautiful (e/c) eyes– the relief, the gratitude and the rekindling of a fragile hope he’d do anything in his power to keep alive.

“Don’t thank me. Just because you serve me doesn’t mean I want to see you sad. Your tears are like poison, flower. They kill the heart of the poet ever so slowly.”

Your heart skipped a beat, losing yourself in his eyes that held so many secrets and so many emotions you couldn’t decipher. So many things were left unsaid. So many things said in silent understanding. 

Gwi noticed your change in mood in the next couple of days. You weren’t back to your usual self but his promise gave you hope. Gave you something to hold onto. He watched you with warmer eyes as you poured down his evening tea. The tension as palpable as the robe he subtly fisted as your addictive scent invaded his senses. 

“We are leaving tomorrow, petal. Have you packed already?”

His dark murmur made you lift your gaze from the tea you were making, there was a delicate spark in your eyes that had turned emotionless. Grey in its nature. 

“Yes, My Lord. I have everything I may need.”

He hummed softly, a dark sound of acknowledgement that made you feel bothered inside at the deepness of it. You handed him his tea and he took a sip, the sweet taste making him sigh softly. 

“My tea has turned sweet ever since you came into my life, petal of mine.”

You looked up, surprised at his sudden words that left you both, yearning for more and scared of their true meaning. A meaning you were starting to understand as the silence stretched on between you both. Gwi took another sip before his eyes locked with yours and your heart skipped a beat the moment you met his intense gaze. 

“I’m not talking about tea.”

“I know, My Lord.”

He smirked against the cup, sipping the last bit of the sweet beverage as your cheeks dusted in pink at his words and the confirmation you blurted out about your understanding. You didn’t dare say another word because you knew something stupid would be spoken once more. And the vampire lord seemed amused at your flustered state that you could have sworn you heard him chuckle. 

“Go and rest, my sweet flower. You’ll need your strength for our journey, we’ll leave at nightfall.”

You bowed down, your eyes meeting his for a split second before you turned around, walking down the steps that led to his throne and across the grand room. Your back towards him as you made your way back to your room. 

Gwi watched you go as he held the empty cup of tea in his large hand. The sweet taste lingered on his tongue as he remembered your warm presence. Never has his tea been so sweet. But when he said he wasn’t talking about the tea, he meant it. For the vampire lord referred to his life. A life tainted with power and immortality. Master of the night. Owner of the Crown. Yet drowning in the shadows of his past choices. Darkness was bitter. But your light had sweetened his life in a way he never thought it to be possible. He never allowed it to exist before. But it felt right to have you so close. Almost as if your fates were tangled before he had seen you that day in the gardens. The day he claimed you as his flower among a garden of thorns. 

Back in your room, you prepared yourself to sleep, changing your beautiful dress to a comfortable nightgown before you lay in your bedding. A sigh left your lips as you got comfortable, sleep quickly claimed you, stopping the racing thoughts in your mind about your journey tomorrow at dusk. 

You were already asleep when Gwi entered your bedroom. His silent steps carried his looming figure across the room before he stood next to you, his eyes, tainted with crimson desire, watched you sleep ever so peacefully. He held your rose-like chamberstick and he couldn’t help but think how it could only belong to you. His flower. His sweet flower. The vampire lord allowed himself that moment of admiration. That single fragment of time of complete lust over your innocent soul, mesmerised by your beauty and enhanced by the nature of your heart. 

He returned you the chamberstick before he left you alone as you lived in the land of dreams during his domain at night. The candle extinguished not long after that, leaving you in the darkness of the room while thoughts of you pierced Gwi’s mind without mercy at all. 

You waited anxiously for dusk to settle. You sat in a bench at the gardens, the last rays of sun kissed your skin and Gwi couldn’t help but admire your golden beauty from the shadows of his underground palace. You were reading something, he couldn’t tell exactly what it was. The book seemed worn out by time and you were so engrossed in it he almost left you be as you read all by yourself in the last and gentle rays of sun. 

But when the sky began darkening you closed the book and stood up, walking back to the underground palace with hurried steps. You walked through the halls, the torches illuminating your beauty as you made your way through the place you now called your home. 

Gwi was not in the throne room so you walked directly to your room with haste; you put the book aside before putting on your long cloak that would protect you from the chilly breeze at night. You fixed your hair, arranging your preferred hairpin, the one Gwi gave you, before you walked back to the throne room only to see the vampire lord walking down the hallway opposite from you, his robes moving gracefully with each step he took. 

You bowed down at him, approaching him with less quick steps. His eyes never left your figure, feeling how his heart skipped a beat upon seeing you wearing your red hairpin. His gift. His claim over his flower. 

“My Lord.”

You greeted, your voice soft and filled with emotions he wasn’t quick enough to grasp as they passed over your eyes in a split second. A second too fast. 

“Are you ready, petal?”

You nodded, a small smile dancing over your lips as you both left the underground palace in silent harmony. Gwi watched you from the corner of his eye, how you took two steps while he took one, how you bit nervously at your lower lip, either in desperation or anxiety he couldn’t tell. But despite all that, you were as beautiful as ever. With your dark cloak trailing behind you and the hairpin catching the torches’ light, you appeared next to him as an angel in disguise. Happy after his orders, feeling safe knowing that he was going with you on the long journey back to a place you hadn’t been in years. Back to a place you once called your home. 

The sun no longer burned his skin as he stepped outside of the underground palace, the last rays of sun hid behind the mountains and the stars began painting the darkening sky instead. His kingdom began. For he was master of the night. And you, his precious flower, stood next to him. 

“Your things are already loaded in the carriage, flower. We’ll arrive tomorrow at night time.”

You stopped walking and he subconsciously mirrored your actions. Your eyes, wide and happy, met his stoic features that softened upon gazing down at you. 

“Thank you, My Lord.”

You were looking at him with so much tenderness his heart felt tight in his chest. Decades of living in eternal power only to succumb to you, a beautiful mortal woman that mesmerised a heart he thought to be death, frozen by time and fate. 

He sent you a soft smile. Small and rare in his usually dark beauty. The chilly air made your hair fly in delicate strands, you never tied it up. Not like the other women in the palace, you always opted for a half updo, adorning it with beautiful hair pins and jewellery that only made you look more enchanting in his eyes. Perhaps that was one of the reasons he was so mesmerised by you, it was a simple thing to do but you, despite your high status in society, did not abide by its rules. 

You bowed to him and only him. And with the small gesture of leaving your hair down, you were different. Just like him. Worthy of your place at his side. As his flower. As his jewel. 

His hand grabbed yours, the contact made your breath hitch as your heart skipped a beat. A shiver ran down your spine and you nearly shuddered at the sudden contact. He pulled you with him wordlessly. You were never going to admit it, at least not for now but you loved the feeling of his larger hand around yours. Unknowingly to you, Gwi thought the same thing as he led you through the gardens and to where the carriage was waiting to take you both to your home. 

The night was peaceful. There was still some light being reflected from the last rays of the sun and you took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the journey and to be with your mother. You tried to not think too much of the outcome of your visit but the news of her grave illness made your heart sink deeper within your soul every time you thought about it. However, Gwi’s presence next to you grounded your racing thoughts and anxious mind. He remained by your side like a rock to your thunderous life and subconsciously, you squeezed his hand a little bit tighter with that thought.

“My Lord! My Lady!”

A sudden voice interrupted your peace. You tensed ever so subtly but Gwi sensed your change in mood. How the quiet night was shattered as he turned around and you did the same only to see a man walking with hurried steps towards you both. 

You swallowed, his hand squeezed yours as the man finally stood in front of you as he panted softly. 

“Forgive me, My Lord, but I bring important news.”

“Speak.”

Gwi commanded, his voice lacking the warmth to which he spoke to you and you shivered at the detached sound that came past his lips. The word was spoken so harshly it made you flinch. 

“I bring news about your mother, Lady (y/n).”

Your breath hitched in your throat yet you so desperately gripped onto hope. A spark that had bloomed in your soul over the past week. The last straw that kept your heart alive. 

“Is she alright? Did she receive my letters?”

You asked, your voice sounded curious above everything else. You have written to your mother for the last week every day. Gwi had promised to send your letters and you trusted in his word. You only hoped this man before you was here to bring you her sweet responses. 

“My Lady… your mother passed away last night. My condolences.”

The man bowed down at you in respect. Your heart stopped and your hand went limp in Gwi’s hold. You took a step forward, silently pleading to the messenger to tell you it was false. That your mother was fine. That she was better. That she had written back to you. 

“No, it can’t be.”

Your broken whispers tore at the vampire’s heart. Tears welled up in your eyes as you shook your head. It could be real. It couldn’t. You were just going to visit her. You were going to spend the last moments with her. A tightness filled your chest just as a lump began forming in your throat. 

“Forgive me, My Lady.”

The pain numbed you. It crashed over you like tidal waves; you weren’t even able to cry despite the need to scream out your agony. You simply turned around without a word.

“Flower, wait.”

But you didn’t. You couldn’t hear him over the sudden ringing in your ears that took hold of you. You didn’t hear Gwi’s voice inside the turmoil of your heart. You didn’t hear anything. Your mind was empty. Blank of any thought. He watched you walk away with a sorrowful expression, your steps were defeated and agonising in a pain he very much understood as well. 

“Her Ladyship left a letter, My Lord. For Lady (y/n).”

Gwi turned to look back down at the messenger with silent urgency, his mind screaming at him to go back to you. To comfort you. As a guilt he had never felt before gnawed at his heart. A heart he once claimed to be dead. The vampire lord snatched the letter from the messenger’s hold before he was walking back to the underground palace, his steps in a hurry as he grieved with you. 

It wasn’t until you arrived at your room that you finally crumbled. Falling to your knees as a heartbreaking sob escaped your lips. The tears rolled down your cheeks like endless rivers of pain you could no longer contain and you cried. You grieved. You screamed. You died as well as the hope in your heart, extinguishing like a flame at night. Drowning in sorrow as your sobs filled the once happy room. 

The petals from the cherry blossom fell over you like a constant reminder of how life goes on. How time will never stop. And the tears came harder, like arrows that pierced your heart; merciless in their nature and poisonous in the darkness that was your pain. 

Your heart broke, your chest hurt. How come grief could hurt so much? How could you endure such an amount of cruel pain? How were you meant to go on? There were so many things left unsaid, so many emotions that lingered in the air. So much time that was stolen by fate’s cruel hand.  

A sudden presence made you look up, the tears did not stop falling. Gwi knelt next to you, his eyes mirroring your sorrow as your lip trembled. You felt crushed, betrayed. You felt dead. 

“She’s gone.”

His hand cradled your cheek with a tenderness that made more tears spill from your beautiful eyes. Your whisper held so much pain within the words that it felt as if you had made him swallow poison coming from the roots of your own thorns. 

“I know, petal. I know.”

Your eyes closed as you welcomed the pain as if it had always existed. You felt robbed by fate, stolen of memories you were meant to have. And the next second, he embraced you. Pressing you against his chest and you clung to his robes in desperation. He shushed you, his big hand cradling the back of your head as you mourned for your mother, for a life you were robbed of, for the opportunity of seeing her again and the memories that were now alive only in your mind. 

Every sob and cry that escaped your lips pained him profusely. Never in his astonishingly long life had Gwi ever felt such pain. Such worry over a mortal human before. Making your pain his own. Your sadness was his sadness. And your grief was his to embrace as well. 

He didn’t say anything. There were no words that could offer you even an ounce of comfort. So he just held you. He pressed you against him, making your sorrow melt his frozen heart. You buried your face in his chest, seeking comfort in his embrace as his arms grounded your screaming and guilty mind. Your broken heart. Your dead touch. He grounded you. He offered you comfort. Perhaps there were no words that could ease your pain but his presence was enough. 

If anyone had seen the mighty vampire lord embracing you in your grief they would have fainted from the shock. Because after decades of suppressing his emotions and hiding behind his cold facade, he showed sparks of life in his broken soul. But that revelation was only for your eyes to feel and for your hands to touch. It was you who wrapped his heart in your petals of love. It was you who revived his dead soul. 

And even in your heartbroken state, it was him whom you clung to. Him whose comfort was enough to keep you in this headspace. You fisted his robes, crying and whimpering as the pain only intensified. 

“It’s okay. Just cry, my flower. Cry, it’s alright.”

And you did that. You held onto his words. You allowed your sadness to spill in the form of your pearls of pain. You cried. You cried until there were no tears to spill. You cried until your soul was empty and only Gwi held you through the darkness that fell upon you by fate’s cruel hand. 

In solitude, I find your voice. 

A voice that’s already dead. 

My light was consumed by darkness within. 

A punishment, a curse that I cannot forgive. 

The petal has fallen from the rose. 

The nightmare awakened at dawn. 

An instinct that comes and goes. 

An immense power, yet also my one flaw. 

I have killed my heart. 

Like poison, my words command. 

A demon of temptation, 

a monster of damnation. 

The echoes of your voice are gone,

I can no longer hear you say my name. 

A name from a man that is now dead. 

Killed by the claws of my own fate.

May/28/2024

A/N: Thoughts? O.O

My inbox is open, darlings! Or feel free to leave a comment! I'd love to hear your thoughts and inputs for the story! Take care, everyone 🫶

~ Masterpost

#sanctuary1988 #lee soo hyuk #kdrama #kdrama series #the scholar who walks the night #gwi #kactor #gwi x reader fluff #gwi x reader #gwi x reader angst #scholar who walks the night #lee soo hyuk characters #vampire #korean drama #korean actor #les pétals d'amour #vampire gwi

[dhr-fics]

Author: Nathaniel Cardeu

01:15 (46KB - 3 Chapters - R) They swore it was over… but in the dark, loneliness of the night, resolve is hard to come by…

Charming Accomplishment (10KB - One Shot - PG-13) Draco can't believe his luck; Hermione Granger, failing in Charms class. Truly his day couldn't get any better!

Love In Ashes (150KB - Incomplete - NC-17) Abraxas Malfoy was dead, as far as the Wizarding world was concerned, killed by Dragon Pox. The truth was that Abraxas was alive, attempting to cure the more serious disease he had been inflicted with by those that had murdered his wife. His quest for purification and revenge has taken him to an alternate dimension; a world destroyed by nuclear war and poisoned by radiation, ravaged by slavers and violent gangs, mutated animals and people. Inhabited by what remains of a nation, the fragments of humanity are trying to live in an irradiated wasteland. Hermione Granger lives a broken life, haunted by her past and the violence that makes up her present. Given the chance to escape, she allows others to commit a terrible sin in her name and, in doing so, finds herself indebted to the Malfoy family, forced to leave all she has known behind. In the broken wasteland of a post-apocalyptic England, these two damaged people find that their fates are bound together in ways neither of them could have imagined. Can they help to heal each other’s wounds, or will their damaged pasts stop them from finding what they have been searching for? Even if they find it, will they have the strength to hold onto it?

A Time and a Place (24KB - One Shot - PG-13) Hermione and Draco have a job to do. They also can't stop bickering whilst they do said job. There's a time and a place for everything, but this is not either of those!

¡Viva la Revolución! (20KB - One Shot - R) Hermione is fed up with the new regime at the Ministry, crushing the life and fun out of the Wizarding world. Things have to change...

#author: Nathaniel Cardeu #published: 2018

[thewatcher727]

Sonic Chronicles: Return of the Dark Brotherhood Chapter 1 Is Now Live!

Preview:

The loneliness was once Tails' only dependable friend, there morning, noon and night. His childhood on West Side Island left him isolated. Others would tease him, call him names and even physically assault him just because they saw him as different. He once wanted nothing more than to be alone, but that all changed when a certain blue hedgehog came into his life. As time went on, Tails formed friendships with others, becoming a confident and brave hero.

But all that changed days ago. Now he was alone once more on this huge ship he himself constructed. Tails exhaled, watching as the steam of his breath vaporised into the cold air. His sky blue eyes veiled towards the large window claimed by the freezing temperatures. He could no longer see the outside world lest he wiped the windows clean from within, but Tails lost his motivation to do so days ago.

Damage to the Blue Typhoon forced the main generators to shut down. The only thing keeping the ship operational was the backup power. Darkness claimed most of the ship, the interior only illuminated by the gentle red rays of the emergency lights. His eyes averted towards the screen in front of him. The ship's radar continued scanning for life, but the only objects that came into frame were the rocks from the asteroid field. The asteroids occasionally bounced against the ship. Tails once jolted at each bump, but he had since grown to tune the noise out.

He leaned back in the captain's chair, solemnly gazing towards the condensed windows that blocked his line of sight from the infinite continuum of space. As time went on, the loneliness felt more like solitude, for one finds ways to cope. Yet to have real company of one who cared for him, that would be sweet indeed. He wanted to cry, to let the universe know of his grief. But any desire to cry had been pushed to the back of his mind long ago.

This loneliness was a vice on his heart, squeezing with just enough pressure to be a constant pain. It killed Tails every day just a little bit more, taking what was once his inner light and replacing it with a darkness that overshadows each moment. He was destined to die on this ship. Either the cold would eventually take him, or maybe the monsters that took his friends from him would return to finish the job. Sonic, Amy, Knuckles…

All gone.

When friends feel like paper chains in the rain and the sky holds nothing but the promise of more storms, life is lonely. When all Tails wanted is a hand to hold or an arm around his shoulders and none came, the world became cold and empty, a slow poison for the soul. Tails longed to be loved and nurtured, and to do the same for others. He was born to be in tribes with social bonds that last a lifetime. But now he would never see them again.

A soft beeping entranced his attention, drawing Tails back to reality. His eyes widened, hastily bringing his attention back to the radar. A friendly tag appeared within the screen, the monitor alerting him of their approach. All traces of depression and loneliness faded away within an instant.

Without hesitation, Tails quickly grabbed the headset and placed it on his head. "Is anyone there?! Sonic? Is that you? Sonic? Amy? Knuckles?!"

Full chapter available here:

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic #tails the fox #miles tails prower #tails sonic #knuckles the echidna #knuckles #knuckles sonic #shade the echidna #shade #shadow #shadow the hedgehog #shadow sonic #rouge the bat #rouge #rouge sonic #amy #amy rose #amy sonic #sonic chronicles return of the dark brotherhood #writing #writing life #sonic writing #writing snippet #my writing #my fics #sonic fanfiction #sonic stories #sonic story #sonic the hedgehog fanfiction

[gareleia]

Had Worse

Chapter: 4/6

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood

Word count: 6071

Relationships: Edward Elric & Roy Mustang

Tags: 5+1 Things, Pre-Canon, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, Depression, Racism, Parental Roy Mustang, Everyone Needs A Hug

Summary: Where the fuck did the Colonel find this kid?

OR

5 times Edward said 'I've had worse' and traumatized his poor innocent coworkers with his Tragic Backstory and 1 time he wasn't able to (to everyone's relief).

Read on AO3

Roy had always been different.

From his childhood, when he had desperately tried to fit in the shoes he didn't quite understand, overcome the divide he couldn't comprehend in its superficiality (child of a festival, neighborhood grandmas cooed, and it wasn't right, he didn't understand, why was auntie so angry?); all the way to adulthood when he stopped being human entirely.

He could almost feel it, just beneath the skin, something crawling all around his rotten bones, and on his worst days he wanted desperately to cut open his chest and let the filth spill all over the floors. Roy wanted to see his guts fall out, charred and half-eaten by maggots, wanted to rip off his lying face and expose the sad, horrifying truth.

Look at me, he wanted to scream. Look at the thing you let walk among you.

He was a disease, an infection left to fester for too long, a rabid dog no one had the presence of mind to shoot, he was rotting and rotten, the source and the symptom, the negative space in place of a person bleeding miasma and poisoning everything he touched. People walked around him, glanced at the paper-thin human disguise he wore every single day, and no one ever bothered to look underneath, to uncover the monster in shape of a man.

Roy Mustang has been hiding his true self for as long as he could remember. Technically speaking, 'Roy Mustang' wasn't even a person, just a lie crafted for the sole purpose of legalizing a smuggled kid. Except that lie has grown and matured, and now it was spreading pain and misery wherever it went.

She should've left him in a ditch he was found in. Should've let them sell and use and dispose of him like they planned, because even to him the rescue made no difference. He'd gotten a respite, a few good years before stepping right back into hell of his own stupid accord, and this time there was no ending in sight. No salvation, no concerned information brokers with hearts too damn big for their own good.

He'd been given a second chance he'd done absolutely nothing to deserve, a home and a name, a family, a future - and Roy had torn it all apart. Spat in her face, wasted the life she had gifted him and taken countless others with him.

She should've left him to die, he cried drunkenly and his aunt still held him in her arms, safe and warm and closest to heaven than he'd ever have the right to feel again. As if he was a child again, bawling his eyes out about the kids at school calling him a squint.

She should've left him to die. She didn't. But Roy did. He'd left thousands of children to die in a fire of his own making. Children who, by all accounts, were just like him: unwanted by the government and hated for no good reason. Who'd never deserved even a fraction of what had been done to them. Who Roy burned with his own two hands, he was a mass murderer-

Not too long before that Roy used to be as much of an outsider. A poor little orphan with features too obviously eastern for even a half-breed. A xinee, the neighbors sneered, as he tried his best to act as a good amestrian boy. A squint who could never quite blend in with his blond, blue-eyed peers. A twinkie unwelcome even amongst the other immigrants.

It used to sting, though these days he only vaguely remembered, too swept in his new and horrifying defects to examine the old childhood insecurities. The pain of alienation, the loneliness and the burning need to become someone great, to show them all who they used to shun (I just want to belong somewhere, what am I doing wrong?) - it all seemed so shallow now. So simple and inconsequential.

After Ishval came Roy had started to crave that sting. The thought of dying alone and unwanted no longer tormented him at night (that was the war's job now) but instead became weirdly soothing. He didn't deserve comfort, but the freak he was, Roy still found it in the fact that there wasn't a place for him on this earth. No more monsters like him. He was an exception, not the rule.

And even still he tried his best to fit in with the rest of the population. Not because he wanted forgiveness or companionship-

(he wanted them all to take turns in striking him until there was no skin left to tear apart, no blood to spill, no guts that hadn't already fallen out and been crushed under their feet; he wanted the agony that pervaded his every living moment to be given form, written all over his pathetic writhing wreck of a body; he wanted that sweet taste of hell that awaited him if there was ever any justice in the world to mix with bile on his tongue, he wanted-)

Focus. Not because he wanted companionship, but because if he ever wanted to make Fuhrer he needed the people around him to accept him as one of theirs - or at least as the lesser evil. Most of them had already stopped giving him lip, though whether it was out of fear or respect he couldn't tell. Either way, his physical appearance wasn't going to be much of an obstacle.

On the contrary. If all his superiors ever saw was his admittedly quite charming appearance (too pristine, too clean, too perfect - he'd never needed to come close enough for their blood to stain his uniform) then he damn well was going to use their blindness against them. It wasn't hard to smile and wave when Roy had practically spent his entire life doing that. Let them see a fool, a loyal dog, he was but a tool ready to be used until one day when he'd finally sink his teeth into their throats.

(couldn't they feel his hatred? couldn't they see how he wanted to show to each and every one of them what 'Hero of Ishval' really meant? to snap snap snap and roll on the ground laughing as their whole damn institution was reduced to ash, down to the very last soldier? in the end, the only real difference between him and Kimblee was that he didn't get caught)

Roy had his eyes on the prize. He had a reason to move forward. He had a goal and until he completed it he would dig his nails into his flesh, grit his teeth and appear stable. Keep it together for Riza and Maes, his team and the Elrics, his aunt and his sisters. The ending was closer every day, and he could almost feel the pure cathartic satisfaction, a sigh of relief right before the gunshots.

It was the sole reason he woke up today, extra early, to the familiar stench of whiskey, vomit and despair. An impromptu meeting with the higher-ups in the Eastern Command, bright and early and on his fucking day off, no doubt to bitch him out again for something trivial. With General Grumman backing him Roy had nothing to fear from a bunch of paper-pushers drunk on power. They'd just have to wait and see. When he's the Fuhrer he would personally demote every single one of them to latrine duty.

That, and he would initiate the Miniskirt Mandate. And reform the cafeteria so that the food in there would be actually edible - and include some vegetarian options. And order a sign to be put up in the examination hall with a smiling cow and a phrase: "To pass the State Alchemist exam you need to be this tall!" in big bright red letters, except the height mark would be moved every year to be half an inch taller than Fullmetal-

"SAY THAT AGAIN, YOU PIECE OF SHIT, I FUCKING DARE YOU!"

Ah, speak of the devil, Roy thought. Why did he feel the need to take a shortcut near the dorms when he was still an hour early? And was it really necessary for him to put up with the Elric bullshit when he was already hungover and en route to receive a tongue lashing?

It wasn't too late to walk away. Pretend he never heard anything. Let Fullmetal cause a scene and get in trouble just by proximity.

"I'LL SHOW YOU 'LITTLE' YOU FUCKING DICKWAD! COME HERE AND I'LL BITE YOUR FACE OFF!"

Oh, goddammit.

Roy had made it around the corner just in time to prevent a murder.

"Fullmetal!" he barked, and he had a sneaking suspicion that the boy only stopped because he was startled. "Just what I needed this morning, more of your immature antics. Are you bothering people now?"

That might have seemed cruel, but considering how many times Roy had to smooth things over after Edward threw a tantrum at some random minuscule occurence, it was usually a reasonable first assumption.

"The fuck do you want, you shitty bastard?!" the boy snarled. "These fucks deserve it, you didn't hear what he said!"

He then pointed his finger at one of the three men, the childish gesture clashing with pure murderous rage on his face. The soldier in question, young, thin, tall and with possibly the ugliest bloody mustache Roy had ever seen, backed away warily.

"Master Sergeant Bauer, sir!" he introduced himself to Mustang with a proper salute. "Caught an intruder on the base, requesting permission to make an arrest!"

"Permission denied," Roy shook his head with a tired sigh. "This is my direct subordinate, the Fullmetal Alchemist, Major Elric."

Bauer eeked, looking suitably intimidated. Not that Roy could honestly blame the poor sod for mistaking a thirteen year old out of uniform for a civilian. Although as far as he'd known the Eastern Command staff had learned not to try and stop the kid months ago.

Fullmetal himself was strangely silent, glaring at the man and the two of his friends behind him. Neither of them looked familiar. The one on the right was a young ginger man with ridiculously big ears that were probably going to win him an unflattering nickname soon enough. The left one seemed to be twice as old as the first two, and, by the look of his face, only half as intelligent. Though that might have just been the calvity talking.

Since when had ugliness became a requirement to join the military?

"Master Sergeant Klein, Colonel, sir!" the ginger squeaked at Roy's raised eyebrow.

"Second Lieutenant Dressler, Colonel, sir!" the baldy followed with a lisp.

"I suggest you familiarize yourselves with the sight of Major Elric, Master Sergeants, Second Lieutenant. I trust there won't be any more incidents?"

"No, sir!" all three of them chorused, sounding vaguely like chastised children.

"Good. You must be new to Eastern Command." he said casually.

The silence stretched. Roy knew he didn't outright ask the question, but surely the implication was obvious? Did he need to talk to them like to a five year old? Or worse, Fullmetal? They didn't seem that scared of him, so what else could make them freeze besides stupidity?

Almost a full minute passed with Moustache silently glaring at the ginger. Finally, Ears seemed to have realized that their fate was resting upon his bony shoulders and so he elbowed Baldy on the side.

The state of this country. Roy could feel himself losing brain cells just by breathing the same air as the three idiots. Which made his already pounding head that much worse.

"Yes, sir! All three of us, sir!" managed Lieutenant Waldo (and how did that man make Lieutenant with that level of brain activity?). "Assigned to Colonel Seuss' unit starting today!"

Huh. Poor guys.

"Oh, I see. You're from Applesweet's crew. You best be on your way then, Colonel Seuss doesn't endorse tardiness."

Or degeneracy. He'd bet a thousand on the baldy folding first and requesting a reassignment within the month. If he survived, that is.

"Sir, yes, sir!" the trio saluted again, remarkably in sync.

"You're dismissed."

Were he in a better mood, Roy would've wished them a good day. As it was, he was hungover, mildly irritated and in pain, so they could die in a fire for all he cared.

(children screaming - flesh burning - smells like meat - don't vomit - weak - don't let them see)

"So." Roy turned to Edward, who had been remarkably, wor suspiciously quiet during the exchange. "I have to clean up after you yet again, Fullmetal. Even on my day off."

He expected a snide remark. Something about him being lazy or smug or a million other percieved slights that the brat regularly threw at his face - which, to be fair, was still better than the kid realizing what was actually wrong with Roy (everything) and running for the hills. What he got instead was a sullen, tired glare that spoke more of defeat than real anger.

"Do you expect a fucking gold star for that shit? Nobody asked you to step in."

This was wrong on so many levels. Edward Elric didn't do defeat. He did the impossible with a maniacal laughter and ran exclusively on spite. For fuck's sake, that boy had tried to walk off a bullet wound once!

"Well a 'thank you' would certainly be a start. I did just spare you a court martial by preventing actual bloodshed from occurring."

And that was another thing. Edward was impulsive, aggressive and loud, but he wasn't outright violent unless someone's life depended on it. He never jumped on people who offended him unless Alphonse was there to catch him. The kid must've thought he hid it well, but he wasn't quite as brash and careless as he let on.

Except that when Roy had stumbled upon the scene the boy sounded genuinely furious. What did these men do to incur such wrath? Alphonse wasn't there for them to insult, so was all this ruckus just because of a comment on his height?

"What, you think you helped anyone?" Edward snorted. "These fucks are just gonna corner me later and then I'll kick their teeth in. Now you've just given them more ammo. Thank for that, by the way."

"Fullmetal," Roy stared at him incredulously, he couldn't believe they were having this conversation. "Are you being bullied?"

Was that what he just interrupted? How did he miss something like that?

"No!" Elric hissed, flushing rapidly. "No. I know what bulling is like and that ain't it. I'm used to this bullshit, those losers just really had crossed a line this time."

"Used to what?" Dear fuck did he let grown men beat him up behind Roy's back?

"You know," Edward coughed and shifted awkwardly. "People being assholes. Why do you care anyway, get off my dick!"

Roy suppressed a grimace. He knew that Elrics were orphans and really didn't have anyone to help them clear up their vocabulary, but Alphonse seemed to have managed it just fine. Why couldn't Edward string two words together without cursing?

"The well-being of my subordinates is my utmost priority, Fullmetal. If your safety is being threatened, I need to know."

If Fullmetal's safety was being threatened, Roy would grind the threat in question into fucking dust and then set it on fire. While mocking the kid's every move, obviously, because he didn't want him to get any ideas.

"Oh, for..!" Edward rolled his eyes with a groan. "I'm not being threatened. It's fine, I'm fine. Nobody ever tries this crap with Al around, so I don't even have to deal with it much nowadays."

"Nobody tries what?" it was like pulling nails with him. "How long has this been going on?"

Whatever 'this' is.

"Just... general bullshit. These three dicks are a new development, but the rest of it had always been like that? It was never this bad in Resembool since everyone knew mom, me and Al just got side glances sometimes. Cities are worse because we're not a part of the community anymore. Had guys in the market try to upcharge me more than once, though they usually shit themselves when Al comes along and asks if there's a problem. It's hilarious."

He looked uncomfortable. Roy was uncomfortable too, partially because he was not the right person to comfort a kid and partially because he still couldn't understand.

"I thought people in cities were in favor of the military?"

"That's not the-" Fullmetal smacked his face with his flesh hand. "Do I really need to spell it out for you? Here."

He rolled up his left sleeve and took off his glove. Then gestured at him to do the same. As the boy put their forearms near each other, Roy's heart skipped a beat.

They were so close. Too close. Almost touching. Except Roy couldn't touch him, shouldn't touch him, because he would spread his disease, break the kid, (they're all screaming-)

"See the difference?"

He forced himself back into the moment.

Edward's arm was so painfully small compared to his that Roy felt himself choke a little, both in amusement and in an unexplained, unwelcome grief (he's too young, what has he done?). Strong and solid, with prominent muscles and blond hair so light he wouldn't have seen it if he wasn't looking closely. Noticeably darker than Roy's own.

"Oh."

"Yeah." Fullmetal shrugged and started covering himself back up. "I'm not exactly your typical white amestrian kid, and you should know how this country treats outsiders."

He did. God fucking dammit.

"Fullmetal, that's racism. What did those soldiers say to you? We can file a complaint."

"I'm not fucking tattling on them, Mustang, I'm not a kid. It was the usual spiel - calling me a wok and half-breed, telling me to go back to 'my country'. I really don't care about that type of shit, but then Pervstache called my mom a magi whore and I was about to punch him senseless when you swooped in and fucked it up. Here, happy? I told you everything. I was justified."

Roy wasn't happy. Roy was the farthest from happy he'd been since he started hiding his gun before drinking. What the fuck?

"Why-" he steeled himself, even if his heart felt like it was trying to break out of his chest and leave, he had to know. "Why 'magi'? That's a slur for ishvalans."

(please please please don't be- he couldn't take it if- please no)

"I don't know. Because of the skin tone? Mom was amestrian and our shitty bastard of a father wasn't ishvalan either. Not that any of those people actually care. Although his last name did end in 'heim', so who the fuck knows. Maybe he was mixed."

(thank you thank you thank you oh god thank you god fuck-)

"I'm sorry."

Roy wasn't actually suffocating, it was all in his head. Just a passing thought, just a nuisance. He wasn't dying yet, because Riza would kill him and Maes threatened to do a full on speech on his funeral. With photos.

"It's... fine." Edward was looking at him funny, did Roy let something show on his face? "Really, it's nothing - well, besides the mom comment. But I've had worse."

"How much worse?"

"Oh, what's with the-"

"Fullmetal." He said in perfectly measured tone, with a perfectly stable expression, doing his fucking best to project the calm he didn't feel. "What exactly did you mean by saying you've had worse."

Getting Edward to open up was like walking on a rope above a canyon full of razor-sharp rocks and bloodthirsty chimeras. While it was raining acid. Tread just a little too heavily, push just a little too far and too fast, and you'd end up falling to your painful and gruesome death.

Except Roy had no patience for mind games today. Not while he was hungover and on a time crunch and working through a full-blown panic attack.

(don't let it show, don't lose control, they are watching-)

Perhaps the child was also not in the mood for making undue trouble, because he was surprisingly cooperative.

"Ever got your hair sun-bleached after a summer outside without covering your head? I'm already blond, so by September my hair gets very light. And Al wasn't much better. Had a military veteran freak out on us once when we were studying in Dublith. Combined with the tan, poor sod must've thought we were ishvalan. It's kinda funny in retrospect, but at the time we were scared shitless, because it turned out he had a gun."

"What?" It wasn't funny. It wasn't funny at all. "What happened next?" he couldn't breathe

(a shot rang out they screamed)

"Ah, not much, honestly. The MPs arrived on the scene and heard him yelling about 'gutting them desert pigs' and 'killing all 'em heimies' and next thing we knew we were thrown on the ground and now the police were pointing guns at us too."

"What the fuck?!" They did what?!

"Yeah. Dragged us both into a cell and kicked up a stink about us being ishvalan terrorists. Looking back, I think they realized early on that they fucked up, but couldn't admit it since the guy in charge had already reported it to the military."

Holy shit, now Roy remembered that incident.

"You were those kids?! You made it into papers, Fullmetal. Forces were on high alert from Rush Valley to Laurelvale. Amestris Today ridiculed military police for months afterwards." More like decimated. Painfully.

"Well they deserved it. They're useless at best and fuck shit up at worst. Stupid soldier rejects. What do we even have them for anyway? Don't answer that, I don't want your smartass comments."

"Can it be, Fullmetal? You, implying my ass is smart?"

"Pity you only use it to shit, Bastard. Then again, that's all that you use your head for, too."

Finally, they were back in the familiar territory.

Of all people in his team he and Edward had the worst relationship. They were tentatively tolerant of each other at best and downright antagonistic at worst. Roy had tried, really, to find some common ground, but the kid adamantly refused any kind of peace offerings.

Somehow, Havoc got both of the Elrics to trust him from the get-go. Whether it was through a particularly good first impression or through some kind of sorcery Roy hadn't had a faintest, but the best advice Jean could offer was: "Just don't be an asshole, Chief, these kids are awesome."

Then Fuery soon managed to befriend the feral one, and naturally the nice one followed suit. That wasn't surprising, because Kain was closest to them in age and had experience helping out in animal shelters. He knew his way around strays. Sadly, the knowledge was mostly instinctive and his advice basically boiled down to: "Just have a heart, Colonel."

Falman, after the time they found him sitting in the office with bloodied hands and a thousand yard stare, started treating both Fullmetal and his brother with utmost respect that bordered on reverential fear. He declined to comment.

Even Breda, his sole ally in being distrusted by the pair, had somehow established a truce with them as of two months ago. And though his advice of: "Just feed them. Like, a lot. Now." was sound in theory, on practice Edward just refused anything Roy offered.

It seemed like every one of his men had had a weird bonding experience with one or both of them. Except for Riza. But Riza didn't count because everyone respected her, even the Elrics.

Roy was outgunned, outmanned, outnumbered, outplanned and outmaneuvered.

But he wasn't dead yet, so that was something.

"Anyway, they tried to scare us into confessing to at least being illegal immigrants, so they could give something to their higher-ups, but Teacher had caught wind of it by then and came looking for us. That part really was funny, because I know for a fact that at least two officers fainted. And one cried like a bitch. We didn't even get in trouble."

Of course not. Why would they? They didn't do anything wrong. If it happened now (but what if Roy had been that veteran? what if he killed them? what if-) Roy would've gone ballistic. Two children being arrested and treated like enemies of the state because of one visibly unstable man's ravings? He'd have torn them apart, piece by pathetic piece, for touching his kids.

"That's horrible." Roy managed. "If it's any consolation, they got into a lot of trouble for this."

"I don't really care." Edward shrugged. "What's done is done, and we haven't had any trouble with them since."

"And you're not going to. If anyone gives you trouble like that you tell me and I'll deal with it, got it?" he stressed.

Because apparently that was the one issue he somehow overlooked. So many things to shun Elric for - his age, demeanor, freakishly high intelligence, atrocious fashion sense - and people picked his skin color. Why was Roy trying to save this country again?

(children burning people crying oh god why make it stop I can't take anymore)

Right.

"Why?" Edward glared at him, half in suspicion and half... confused? "What's in it for you?"

"Do I need to have an ulterior motive for protecting my subordinates?"

"Don't bullshit me, Colonel God Complex." the boy scowled. "You have an ulterior motive for everything."

"My ulterior motive here is to make sure you're safe and not being bullied by some third-rate Marvin award nominees."

"Oh, so sending me on missions where I get shot at is fine, but schoolyard taunts are where you draw the line?"

"Those aren't schoolyard taunts, Fullmetal, it's a serious issue that many men face on a daily basis!" Roy was starting to lose his temper. "And I never send you on missions where an altercation is expected, but you still manage to attract trouble! I swear I could tie you up and hide you in an empty room and you would still somehow get into a fight!"

And give Roy a heart attack.

"Oh, so now it's my fault that people keep trying to hurt me?! You're saying I deserve it?!"

"No! Were you even listening?! I just said-"

"LEAVE ME ALONE, YOU BASTARD!"

It was at that point that Roy had realized what he was doing. He had just locked himself into a screaming much with a bratty, insecure traumatized thirteen year old. Thankfully, at least, the courtyard was completely empty, free of any potential onlookers.

Still, he was the adult in this situation. He had to keep his cool.

"Fullmetal. Edward. Look at me."

Before he registered how bad of an idea it was, Roy's hands were already on the kid's shoulders, holding him in place.

"Let go." Edward hissed, but didn't follow the demand with a threat or an escape attempt, instead choosing to look down at his boots with his hands crossed.

"Edward." Roy insisted. "Come on, look at me. Please."

He actually considered squatting down so their faces would be on the same level, but thought better of it. Mostly because he had a feeling that Fullmetal would see that as a grave insult and not an attempt to establish trust.

"What the fuck are you doing?!"

"Listen to me, Ed" it was the first time Roy had ever used the nickname and he could see the boy's apprehension lessen a bit, probably against his will.

Now think, he told himself. What could he possibly be afraid of now?

Because that was what Roy saw when he looked at Elric. It was in his too-bright eyes, too tight fists, too straight back. In the slight shaking, in the loud voice.

Fear, masked by anger and bad jokes. But fear of what?

(fear of Roy?)

"I'm not trying to hurt you, alright? I'm not laughing at you, or gathering dirt on you, or playing a prank. I'm not trying to manipulate you somehow or get you to owe me something."

"Fuck you." the kid was breathing heavily, his face pinched.

"Ed, I'm just trying to help-"

"I don't want your damn help!" his voice cracked.

Fuck, was Fullmetal actually going to cry on him?

"You're just-" he sounded so young and vulnerable, and every word felt like a knife lodging itself into Roy's chest. "You're just an asshole!"

"I'm sorry, I'm trying not to be-"

"Well don't!"

What?

"You can't just...!" Ed spluttered and swallowed loudly. "You can't just- not be an asshole! It's not allowed!"

What?

"Fullmetal," now he just felt incredibly dumb. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Shut up!" the child turned away again, hugging himself. "Just go away!"

"No, I don't think I will."

Now he really did squat down in spite of his poor, long-suffering knees. Roy could deal with the pain later, in the moment he had more pressing problems.

Like the kid in his arms who was full-on sobbing now, albeit silently. For him it was probably a much-needed breakdown that had been slowly creeping on for months, if not longer. For Roy, however, it was a nerve-wracking experience, if simply because he had never had a child seeking comfort from him of all people.

What the fuck was he supposed to do? Stay still? Hug him? Try to calm him down? Distract him? Wait it out and pretend it never happened?

He wished Maes was there. Maes always knew how to deal with emotions, meanwhile Roy's usual solution was to push them down for as long as he could manage and then drink himself halfway into a coma when that stopped working. Which was not an option this time.

(What would Hughes do?)

Roy had never asked for this. He had just wanted to attend one meeting and then go home to try and sleep off his hangover. He didn't want to be in this situation, with a crying Elric in front of him and no one competent to give proper instructions.

(But deep inside something steered. Something he couldn't quite ignore.)

He hesitantly took his hands off Edward's shoulders and wrapped them around his small form, pulling him closer. The little alchemist stilled for a few seconds during which Roy stopped breathing entirely. He considered letting him go but in the next moment the boy launched himself into his chest with the force that almost knocked them both over.

And then the floodgates opened.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" Ed chanted, curling into his coat and getting snot all over it.

Roy didn't have a clue about how to respond to that, so he simply hugged him tighter.

"Why can't you be easy?! Why can't anything ever be easy?!"

"I'm sorry, Ed." he murmured, rubbing circles into his back in what he hoped was a soothing manner. "I'm so fucking sorry."

They stayed like this for a while. Roy didn't know what he was apologizing for. For not seeing his distress sooner, perhaps. For not being the mentor and father figure the boy clearly needed in his life. For the impossible, unfair amount of suffering both Edward and Alphonse had been through.

Roy had never been jealous of Maes and Gracia. He'd never wanted kids, never wanted the lifelong responsibility, and that was without taking his main goal into account. But it felt inexplicably right to hold this brave, fierce, precious child in his arms and oh. Oh. He got it now.

"You-you always go away. E-everyone always d-does. No m-matter how hard we t-try, you all d-die or leave, or..!"

Roy wanted to cry too. He wanted-

He wanted Ed to feel safe around him. He needed the kid to trust him, to let him in, because he was Roy's now and Roy Mustang was a greedy bastard. He wouldn't, couldn't let him go now, because they were both his. He fucking claimed them. End of story.

"I swear on everything that is holy, Ed, I'm not going to die before you're ready. And I'm definitely not leaving you behind. Trust me, if I ever even think about it, Hawkeye will shoot me."

"I'll never be ready." Came a muffled response. "No more dying."

"No more dying." Roy smiled wryly into the crown of golden hair. "I guess we'll just need to figure out immortality now, huh? You better share that Philosopher's Stone when you find it."

Elric awkwardly squirmed out of the embrace and and started rubbing his eyes furiously, trying to erase the evidence of what he must have perceived as weakness. Roy had to suppress a bizarre impulse to cup those reddened cheeks and wipe the tear tracks with his thumbs.

(what the fuck was wrong with him today?)

"But this never happened and I still hate you, g-got it?!" Edward's voice almost didn't waver, carrying on with his normal bratty attitude, but for the first time since they met Roy had noticed that brittle undertone.

All this time that boy hadn't been a feral and possibly rabid cat after all. Just a particularly loud hedgehog. With venom on his quills, sure, but still soft and squishy on the inside.

"Sure, Fullmetal." Roy smiled. "Nothing happened at all. But we're still filing a complaint against those three soldiers, don't think I forgot about them."

"Urgh. This again? Why are you so hellbent on tattling? Do you like additional paperwork? Oh. Oh, shit, you're a masochist, aren't you? That's why you let Lieutenant Hawkeye boss you around, you old pervert!"

"Excuse me?! I'm not old, Fullmetal, I'm twenty six!" For three more weeks at least. "And I'm not a pervert - where did you even hear that word? Nevermind, I don't want to know. Why are you so against reporting them? Don't you want them to get in trouble?"

"Because they won't, you stupid bastard. It never works, so why bother?"

"Oh, but this time it will." he smirked. "I know their commanding officer personally and let me tell you, Colonel Seuss won't be pleased to hear about their questionable hobbies."

"What, is he a hardass or something?"

"Dear old Abigail is a miserable shrew, but luckily for you she only hates one thing more than she hates men, and that is men who act like douchebags."

"So, you."

Roy didn't even need to say anything. He only had to raise an eyebrow.

"Well, I'm sorry, I can't turn it off!" Fullmetal blurted out, cheeks aflame.

Truly, he was a delight to work with.

"To be completely fair, you weren't wrong, I'll give you this one. You see, I used to think that her habit of spitting venom in my face every time we talked was her unique way of flirting."

That got him a snort.

"Tell me you didn't."

"Yes, well, we cleared up that particular misunderstanding pretty quickly." Roy grimaced, but Ed started giggling, so he continued. "I'm honestly surprised she didn't actually shove those flowers up my ass, but it was an extremely close call. Word of advice, kid: don't piss of women who can transmute air into poison."

The giggling stopped and the boy gave an exaggerated shudder.

"More like, don't piss off women in general."

"Yes." he echoed with a grin of his own. "Women are scary."

Roy felt... lighter than he had in years. For the first time in months his mind has stopped screaming at him every goddamn second. He could almost, if he squinted really hard and tilted his head just so, make out a ghost of a will to live.

Not that it fixed anything. He was still a monster, calamity given human form, and he deserved to rot in the deepest, hottest pit of hell.

But as he walked down the path to the Command building with a laughing Fullmetal in tow, that part of him that Roy thought had long since died, that he did everything in his power to forget ever since the Elrics barged into his miserable life, finally reared up it's terrifying head.

A thought came in. A stupid, dangerous, absurd, tempting thought. If he ever reached out for that small hand. Would he be allowed to hold it?

It looked like the eternal damnation was going to have to wait a decade or two. After all...

"No more dying."

...he still had a pair of hedgehogs to raise.

#fanfiction #fullmetal alchimist brotherhood #edward elric #roy mustang #angst #hurt/comfort #ed @ trauma #“and repreeess... this is HeAlThY”

[iviarellereads]

The Neverending Story, Chapter 4 - Ygramul the Many

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Neverending Story, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

In which we need all the bug and spider warnings.

Dire(1) hunger and thirst pursued Atreyu.

For two days, Atreyu has been wandering, lost with no answers and no Artax to keep him company. He realizes he's in the Land of the Dead Mountains because there are no other living creatures, even bugs. He knows an old song saying that in a chasm in the Land of the Dead Mountains, there's a being named Ygramul the Many, the "horror of horrors." He wants to give up, but this journey isn't just his own, and the world's fate rests in his hands.

Bastian startles as the clock strikes one, announcing the end of the schoolday. The children shout and cheer as they leave, and then silence descends on the school. For a moment, he thinks his plan to run away and read the book was silly, that he should give up and go home too… but Atreyu wouldn't give up, so Bastian decides, after all, to stay.

He felt very lonely, yet there was a kind of pride in his loneliness. He was proud of standing firm in the face of temptation. He was a little like Atreyu after all.(2)

Eventually Atreyu comes to the chasm, and starts following the edge, taking his time since he doesn't know about his pursuer. He comes to a great spiderweb, in which a luckdragon is stuck and struggling. On the luckdragon there's a shape-shifting form, which is Ygramul, made up of many steel-blue insects which hive together.

Atreyu reaches for Auryn and yells at Ygramul to halt. When she doesn't, Atreyu starts walking along the spiderweb, until Ygramul notices him, turning to stare at him with a single eye.

Bastian cries out with fear.

A disembodied cry of fear echoes through the chasm.(3) Ygramul looks to see if someone else is there, but returns to Atreyu in short order.

Bastian wonders how in the world she could have heard his sound.

Atreyu introduces himself and bargains with Ygramul for the luckdragon's freedom, so that with his help, Atreyu can go to the Southern Oracle and continue his quest. Ygramul is reluctant to let him go, and besides, the luckdragon has been poisoned, and will die within the hour.

Still, she has a secret, which can get Atreyu to the Southern Oracle if he promises never to reveal it. He swears, and Ygramul says her poison allows her victim to wish themself anywhere in Fantastica, once only. If everyone knew, all her prey would escape. But, to get himself to the Southern Oracle, all Atreyu must do is let her bite him.(4)

Atreyu asks in the name of the CLE, but Ygramul says absolutely not, the point of the CLE is that she doesn't ask anything of anyone. Atreyu must acknowledge that she's right, and accepts her poison, and wishes himself to the Southern Oracle.

The wolf reaches the spiderweb some time later, but no one remains,(5) and the trail disappears.

Bastian wonders again how they could have heard his cry of fear. The book is giving him "a spooky feeling."

=====

(1) The illuminated D is Ygramul's spidery form, and the luckdragon. (2) Is this thought from the narration's observation, or Bastian's opinion of himself? (3) Do I play coy and say, "now that's odd," or do I admit that yes, this is part of the story? I hope this isn't someone's first experience of the story, but if it is, hopefully this isn't too much of a spoiler for you, since the text makes it very clear what happened. (4) Magic always has a cost. (5) Not even Ygramul or the luckdragon? Hmm.

#the neverending story #bastian balthazar bux #atreyu #ygramul the many