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yellowsuitcase · 3 years

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In the Prefect’s Bathroom // Draco Malfoy

Request @bii-aan-ckaa : Hi there! I hope you are well. I just have a request for Draco Malfoy x Y/N. You’re dating Harry Potter but you hate Draco and one day in class you’re paired with Draco and he starts tracing his fingers up your thigh and whispering naughty things in your ear like how he would fuck you so hard and rough like you want it and how he’s seen how you look at him in class and how you turn him on and y/n gets flustered and goes to the prefects bathroom and Draco comes after and she just kisses him hard and they have rough hate sex and he makes her say how he’s better than her boyfriend and how he’s going to fuck her whenever he wants to

A/N: Tbh I procrastinated this request for a long time, but once I sat down to write it, everything came easily and I’m very pleased with how it turned out. Hope you enjoy! P.S Sorry about Harry :(

Summary: Y/N and her boyfriend, Harry, hate Draco. But what happens when Y/N gets paired up with him for a potions assignment?

Warning(s): SMUT!!! Unprotected sex, fingering, hickies, dirty talk, hate fucking, possessiveness, cheating

Word Count: 3.2k

Masterlist Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

{Not my gif}

“Harry, wait up!” Y/N called after her boyfriend. He was running a few paces ahead of her. The two of them were about to be late for Potions. Harry turned his head briefly and smiled brightly at Y/N. She rolled her eyes and sped up so that she was nearly beside Harry now. They sprinted down the dungeon steps and burst through the archway into Snape’s classroom just as the bell rang. Everyone’s eyes shifted to the pair, who were huffing and puffing.

“Today’s lesson will be on Felix Felicis. You will each be paired up with a fellow student. No, you may not pick your partner. I will do that for you,” Snape said coldly. His eyes shifted to Harry and Y/N. “Mr. Potter, you’ll be working with Mr. Goyle. You, Ms. Y/L/N, will be with Mr. Malfoy. Perhaps with him, you’ll be able to actually brew an accurate potion.”

Y/N glared at the blonde-haired boy by the name of Draco. It was well known throughout Hogwarts that Harry and Draco didn’t get on, but their hateful relationship was nothing compared to his with Y/N. The two of them were prefects, Y/N being a Gryffindor and Draco being a Slytherin. This meant they saw each other at prefect meetings and at other school functions. Y/N despised him for multiple reasons. He was an absolute prick to her boyfriend, which obviously didn’t sit well with her. Not to mention Draco would tease Y/N about everything, no matter if it were her shoes or her nose. If Draco noticed anything out of sorts, he would poke and prod at it. And on top of Draco’s constant rude remarks and banter, Y/N couldn’t deny the fact that to put it bluntly, he was hot. She felt utterly horrible for thinking this about him, but Draco was, in Y/N’s mind, the most attractive boy she’d ever laid eyes on...aside from Harry, of course.

Reluctantly, she walked over to the empty stool beside Draco and took a seat. The boy smirked at her and held eye contact for just a couple seconds too long before turning his attention to Snape, who was going over instructions. Y/N’s heart was pounding in her chest, and not from the running. The class had hardly started, and she was already distracted. She blinked rapidly, trying to snap out of her thoughts. Her eyes landed on the spread in front of her. Y/N knew Felix Felicis to be a difficult potion to brew because of its intricacy, and if she remembered correctly, it took many months to complete. However, it looked as though they were going to start from the beginning today. Y/N nervously picked at the skin around her nails as she scanned the ingredients. She recognized most of them: Occamy Eggshells, Murtlap Tentacles, Common Rue, and Thyme. But there were a couple other items she was unfamiliar with.

“I will only help you with the first few steps, then you will have to go by your textbooks. We’ll start with the Ashwinder egg. Add it to your cauldrons,” Snape instructed. Y/N’s hand hovered over the various items. She was about to grab what looked like an egg, but a hand on her wrist stopped her. “It’s not that one,” a haughty voice said. Y/N turned to glare at Draco, who kept his hand on her while using his other to grab an orange-reddish colored egg. He tossed it into the air, caught it, and slid it into their shared cauldron. Y/N wrenched her wrist from his grip. Draco chuckled at this. “Not my fault you didn’t know what an egg looked like,” he retorted. Y/N huffed angrily. “Eggs can come in many different shapes and sizes. Forgive me for being cautious.” Draco raised an eyebrow as he turned up the heat of the fire beneath the pewter cauldron. He appeared unimpressed.

“Now for the Squill Bulb. Stir vigorously after adding it in,” Snape muttered as he slowly circled the classroom. Y/N groaned quietly. She wasn’t familiar with this ingredient, either. While she frantically scanned the table, she felt a hot breath on her neck. “You look pretty when you’re scared,” Draco whispered into her ear. A shudder ran down her spine, and she shifted in her seat while she pressed her thighs together. Her eyes flickered to Draco. He was gazing at her intently, his eyes running up and down her body. “Shut up, Malfoy. I'm not scared, I'm just unsure,” Y/N snapped, but she knew her words weren’t convincing. Draco leaned over her and snatched the brown bulb at the far end of the table. He lingered there for a moment, his body close to Y/N’s. Then he sat back, plopped the item into the cauldron, and began to stir swiftly. His eyes didn’t meet Y/N’s, but she couldn’t take hers off of his. Fortunately, she was snapped out of her trance by Snape slamming a textbook onto the table. Y/N bit her lip, preventing a curse word from flying, as she turned around to see her professor behind her. He sneered down at her and aggressively turned the book's pages until landing on the relevant section.

“Follow instructions, Y/L/N. Just because you’re paired with Malfoy doesn’t mean you can slack off,” he scolded. Once again, all eyes turned to Y/N, whose face was burning crimson. She blocked out the shame surging in her stomach and pulled the textbook close to her so she could identify the next step in the potion. It called for Murtlap Tentacles. But first, they must be cleaned and chopped up. Y/N grasped the worm-like strands and laid them on her cutting board.

She had just begun to chop them up when she felt a hand on her thigh. It was evident that the hand belonged to Draco. She glanced to the side, her eyes meeting his. He raised an eyebrow to ask silent permission. Y/N knew better, but she was curious and gave him a short nod. His fingers then traced lines up and down her leg, making her squirm. At that very moment, Harry decided to look over at his girlfriend. He gave her a soft, sympathetic smile to which she hurriedly returned as she tried to ignore what was happening underneath the table. But what Draco did next was not something she could put out of mind. His hand slid underneath her skirt, and she felt his finger brush over her clothed and slightly excited pussy. Y/N stifled a gasp and whipped her head towards Draco, shooting a nasty glare. He smirked at her and whispered, “Are you aroused, Y/N? Your panties are wet. Is it for me?”

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. How was it that even his voice was sexy? She luckily got ahold of herself and promptly slapped his hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me,” she seethed. But Draco was unfazed. He added more ingredients to the potion-in-progress and stirred it absentmindedly. “You know, Y/N, I notice your stares. I see how you look at me. You don’t look at Harry like that, do you? Does he make you happy?” he questioned. Y/N straightened her spine, trying to appear unaffected by his inquiries. “He does make me happy, for your information,” she replied coldly. Draco’s focus remained on the potion as he asked another question, one that made Y/N falter. “But does he make you happy in bed, Y/N?” Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. How dare he ask such a thing. Y/N opened her mouth to reply but found that no words came to her aid. Harry was the best boyfriend she could ask for. But truthfully, he wasn’t the most skilled in the bedroom. He gave it his all, but it wasn’t quite enough for Y/N. However, it wasn’t a big deal; Y/N didn’t really mind having to finish the job with her hand after the deed. Sure, it wasn’t the most ideal situation, but it definitely wasn’t something to break up over, not in her mind.

“No answer, huh? Seems my suspicions were right. He’s not satisfying you,” Draco whispered. Y/N shifted her eyes to her textbook, trying to reassert her concentration onto her schoolwork. But then Draco’s hand returned to her thigh, and he leaned in closer. “I could do better. God, I’d fuck you so hard and so much better than he ever could. I’d fuck you until you’d have to beg me to stop,” he muttered while slipping his index finger past her underwear and starting to stroke her. Y/N tried to close her thighs, but Draco’s thumb and pinky held them open as his finger found her clit and swirled around it lightly. “You turn me on, Y/N. And I know you want this. You can’t fool me.”

Y/N’s chest was heaving, she could feel her underwear growing wetter and her desire for the Slytherin increasing. It was getting to be too much; she didn’t think she could handle any more. Her hand pushed his away, and she stood up abruptly, sending her stool backward. The screeching of its feet on the floor got the attention of the class. “May I use the bathroom, Professor?” she asked. Snape leered at her but waved her off. Without hesitation, Y/N ran out of the classroom and sprinted for the Prefect’s bathroom. It was much farther than the regular toilets, but Y/N wanted extra security. She climbed many flights of stairs before arriving outside the door. Y/N spoke the password and rushed inside, not stopping to admire the chandelier or the freshly cleaned marble floors. She made a beeline for the enormous bath, kicking off her shoes and robe as she went. When she got to the bath, she sat down beside it and slid off her socks along with her skirt and underwear. Slowly, Y/N slipped her foot into the water. It was the perfect temperature. Eagerly, she yanked off her grey sweater and button-down shirt, leaving her in just her lacey bralette; it was red to match her house colors.

Y/N scooted towards the edge of the bath and carefully slid herself inside, submerging her body from her stomach down. The steam from the hot water instantly calmed her racing heart. She crossed her arms on the edge of the pool. This prevented her from sliding all the way under. Gently, she rested her head on top of them. But before allowing herself to relax, Y/N quickly scanned the bathroom. When she determined nobody was present, she closed her eyes and let her body soften. But her craved peace of mind didn’t come. The events of a few minutes prior were still swirling around in her head. Did he really touch me, or am I just imagining it? No, I can't be imagining it, not when my goddamn clit is still tingling from his finger. Y/N knew the cat was out of the bag. She thought she’d been doing an excellent job of hiding her attraction to Draco, but he said it himself; he’d seen the way she'd looked at him. He knew she liked him. Y/N felt terrible. How would Harry feel if he knew his girlfriend had a thing for the boy who made his school days hell? He certainly wouldn’t be pleased, that’s for sure.

Y/N’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a soft chuckle. She opened her eyes to see none other than Draco, kneeling right in front of her. She screamed and instinctively crossed her arms over her chest; she almost lost her grip on the edge of the bath by doing this. But at the last second, she regained her grasp and this time opted to press her chest against the side of the pool to shield herself from Draco’s view.

“What are you doing here?” she yelled angrily, refusing to look at the boy. “I’m simply finishing what I started,” he said. Y/N’s eyebrows knit together. “Wha—” She was cut off by Draco smashing his lips against hers. At first, Y/N wanted to push him away, and she tried. She pressed her hands against his chest and started to shove him, but then he slipped his tongue inside her mouth, and her arms weakened. She melted into the kiss, all thoughts of Harry leaving her mind. Draco swirled his tongue around hers, causing her skin to prickle with arousal. Y/N sighed deeply and leaned in closer. She squealed when Draco began to suck her tongue before he abruptly pulled away. The pair gazed at each other, pure lust in their eyes. Draco suddenly grabbed her arms and hoisted her out of the bath. Once her feet touched the floor, his fingers immediately found her pussy and began rubbing. Y/N’s legs shook, and she grabbed onto Draco’s shoulders as he slid a finger inside her.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Draco muttered. Y/N whimpered and clenched her walls around his digit. “Don’t worry, you’ll be full soon enough,” he stated while sliding in another finger. Y/N was desperate at this point. She hadn’t touched herself in a few weeks, and Draco’s fingers were skilled. They were bringing her to her peak before Draco had even undressed. Not only was he skilled, but he was also experienced and thus noticed Y/N’s body language. He knew she was close, so he removed his fingers. Y/N cried out as she felt her climax fade away. “What the hell?” she growled while pressing her thighs together, trying to imitate the friction he'd provided. Draco said nothing as he slid down his pants and underwear, smiling at her neediness. She glared at him, furious that he had denied her her orgasm, but he paid her no mind. When his clothes were shed, he roughly grabbed Y/N’s waist and steered her to the nearest wall. Without warning, he slammed her up against it and forcefully thrusted his cock inside her. The combined feeling of being full and the shock of the cold marble against her skin caused Y/N to let out a guttural moan. She dug her fingernails into Draco’s back, through his shirt as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to adjust. His hips remained still, prompting Y/N to clench around him.

“You’re so tight, fuck,” he grunted. Y/N whined when he still didn’t move and bucked her hips. “Oh, you want me to fuck you? Is that it?” he teased. Y/N narrowed her eyes. “I hate you,” she muttered. Draco winked at her and pulled out, she was frustrated initially, but then he thrusted back inside, roughly, making her scream. His hips snapped back and forth at a rapid pace. Y/N moaned loudly as her eyes fell shut. Her voice hitched every time his cock touched that spot deep inside her. “Tell me I’m better than him, Y/N. Tell me that I’m better than Harry, that I fuck you harder than him,” he growled. Y/N couldn’t form a coherent thought; there was no way she’d be able to speak a proper sentence. Draco gripped her arms tight and pounded her hard before ceasing his movements. Y/N opened her eyes; she was confused as to why he had stopped. “Say it,” he demanded. Y/N felt her body shudder and sweat slide down her neck. Draco slammed inside her again, startling her.

“You’re better! You fuck me better than Harry,” she sputtered. Draco smirked. “That’s right, princess. And don’t worry, I’ll be fucking you frequently. Whenever I want, I’ll sneak off to your common room, crawl into your bed, and fuck you until you see stars. I don’t even care if someone sees or hears. You’re mine now, understand? You’re my little fuck toy,” he husked. Y/N whimpered at his words. She’d never been more aroused than she was right then. He began to regain his fast pace, and Y/N cried out in pleasure. “Fuck, Draco!” she shouted. This seemed to egg Draco on as he thrusted into her even harder, making her tits bounce. “Draco, Draco, Draco,” Y/N moaned. The Slytherin grunted, leaned his head towards her neck, and latched his lips onto her soft skin. He took her skin in between his teeth and sucked forcefully. “That’s gonna leave a mark, Draco, stop,” she whined. Draco pulled away and snickered. “I know, that’s the point.” Y/N rolled her eyes. Bastard.

Suddenly, Draco paused his movements and carefully pulled himself out. Before Y/N could speak, he spun her around so that her front was pressed up against the wall. He shoved his cock back inside her and resumed thrusting. “God, you’re so good. I’m gonna fuck you all the fucking time. And you’re going to let me, aren’t you, princess? You’re gonna let me pound that pussy whenever the fuck I want, right?” Y/N groaned, the sound of her voice and the slapping of skin reverberating off the bathroom walls. She was so close to her peak; she just needed a little more. “Answer me, slut,” Draco growled. Y/N squeezed her eyes shut as he roughly snapped his hips. “Yes. Shit, yes, I’ll let you fuck me whenever. Fuck, fuck! Draco, I’m gonna cum,” she squeaked. Draco gripped her hips tighter. “Then cum. Cum on my cock, you filthy little slut.”

That was all Y/N needed. She felt her orgasm pulse through her; it was as if her bloodstream was filled with electricity. Her body jerked with shocks of pleasure, and her vision turned white. Draco’s pace had never slowed throughout her high. In fact, it had sped up as he was nearing his own climax. With a few more thrusts, he came inside her with a loud moan. Y/N squeezed him tight, stimulating him through his orgasm.

When he finished, he remained inside her as they both tried to catch their breaths. Y/N was utterly dazed. “I’ve never cummed that hard. Holy shit, Draco.”

“You said it yourself, I’m better,” he said with a smirk.

Gently, he pulled out of her. Y/N turned around and leaned against the wall; her legs were trembling too much to stand without support. “I still don’t like you,” she stated. Draco cocked an eyebrow. “You sure bout that? You were just screaming my name about,” he raised his wrist to his face, pretending to check an invisible watch, “two minutes ago.” Y/N crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to look intimidating.

“Because of you, we missed the rest of Potions and are likely going to be late to our next class, you moron,” Y/N complained while walking over to her pile of clothes by the still-hot bath. Draco was already dressed, considering he had only taken off his lower layer of clothing. He was readjusting his tie in the mirror while Y/N scrambled for a towel to clean herself up with. Draco cleared his throat. Y/N glanced over to see him lifting up a washcloth. She grumbled to herself as she stomped over to him. The Gryffindor snatched the cloth from his hand. “Thanks,” she said shortly. Draco shook his head and laughed. “You’ll warm up to me yet, Y/L/N.”

Y/N flipped him off, not bothering to look behind her. She knew he could see her in the mirror. “Fuck off, Draco, I still hate your guts even though you’ve just rearranged mine,” she called out, making Draco laugh again. Y/N sighed softly in disappointment. Not even her humor could distract her from the thought in her mind. How were things ever going to be normal with Harry again?

Taglist: @beiahadid @pastelpuffbar

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ephyla · 3 years

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Midsummer Relaxation

Midsummer was approaching and the people of New Berk have been scrambling all over, preparing for the celebration. The sun barely sets anymore, and everyone was absolutely exhausted. Hiccup was supposed to overview the entire preparation of the feast but all he desired was a break. Thank the Gods for marrying such a wonderful woman.

oOo

Midsummer was approaching and the people of New Berk have been scrambling all over the village for days, preparing for the celebration. The sun barely set anymore, and everyone was absolutely exhausted, prone to often make mistakes that drove the Chief of New Berk wild. Hiccup was supposed to overview the entire preparation of the feast, but also had to settle petty quarrels between sleep-deprived Vikings; avoiding sharp flying objects on the occasion. It was the perfect recipe for chaos and he was worried that they will not be ready on time. If one thing went according to plan, three more things would set them back again. Food went missing, tables were broken, celebrative outfits were set on fire. All he wanted to do relax, he felt like he’s been awake for seven days straight and his mind isn’t cooperating anymore, just begging to shut down for a whole month. By now, he was just acting like a wandering draugr. He really wondered how his father managed to handle this without breaking a sweat and dearly wished he was by his side, guiding him.

His wife was by his side the entire time, shouldering half of the responsibilities. Even she, despite being quite tired as well (he swore he saw her take a power nap on top of a ladder last time), handled it better than himself. She seemed to be fuelled by a spark of positive energy. He remembered a few years back when the twins explained the change in their friends’ attitude towards the Midnight Sun, since then, Astrid found a dark place to sleep so she doesn’t get any more of those embarrassing memories again. What kind of Hofferson would ever call a Jorgenson handsome? Of course, the sun still had its effects on her, but her overzealous demeanour toned down to a bearable extent. While it did seem a bit overwhelming sometimes, it kept Hiccup’s spirits up. It was their first Midsummer as a wedded couple and he really didn’t want to mess this up.

Today, however, she had suddenly requested to immediately go home after being done with only half of her duties done. For someone who prides herself on being so effective and getting the work done, it was very unusual of her to abandon her responsibilities. This worried Hiccup, so he didn’t object and watched her dash towards their house. He didn’t know how much time passed, the sun remained in its usual elevated position, but he felt like tonight will be a four blocks of ice kind of night. He felt like there was absolutely no progress made today despite getting up in the early hours. He couldn’t even track the time since the sun was barely moving. Some muttonhead decided it was a smart idea to open Sven’s sheeps’ pen and let the uncoordinated Vikings chase them like toddlers who could barely walk yet. If he could get his hands on that person, he swore he was going to get an earful that even his late father, Stoick, would be impressed by. He hoped that Astrid got enough rest so she can go back to being her feisty, short-tempered self. He would greatly benefit from that. The Berkians, despite being completely out of control, would never cross with a hot-blooded, axe-wielding Valkyrie and would sober up at the speed of light.

Speaking of his beloved blonde wife, he saw her approach him with a smile on her face. Even though he was absolutely exhausted, he smiled back, her presence bringing him a sense of comfort. He extended his hand to her and she took it, bringing her closer to him, enlacing her waist, and pressing small kisses on her neck. She giggled in a very un-Astridlike way.

“Well, I’m not one to object to this kind of greeting, but we’re in the middle of town and people are looking.” Astrid said as she observed around her. Gobber was covering a kid’s eyes. Some villagers had a dumbfounded expression on their faces, rarely seeing Hiccup initiating such an intimate gesture; apart from the occasional lip or forehead kiss. Others just cheered or ignored them. Hiccup let out a small whine and rested his head on her shoulder, keeping his arms wrapped around her form.

“I missed you.” He whimpered.

“I wasn’t gone for that long, babe.” She replied as she stroked his hair. Her poor husband has the bad habit of overworking himself, and the fact that no one can distinguish between day and night definitely didn’t help. “Come home with me, I have something to show you.”

“I’m sorry Milady, I still have work to do, we’re behind schedule and Midsummer is in a week.” His reply a bit muffled in her shoulder.

“Go and have yer fun, lad. You’ve worked more than anyone here and deserve some respite. And besides, how can ye refuse yer wife’s invitation?” The young couple turned their heads to look at Gobber approaching them. “Ah, I remember when Stoick was acting just like ye, never knowing when to stop. It took Valka threatening not to share their marital bed anymore, snapped ‘im right out of it, and practically dragged ‘im home. The next morning they kept yawning all over the place, creating a chain of never-ending yawns. Now that I think about it, that’s probably how ye were concei-“

“-OKAY! That’s enough Gobber. I got your point.” Hiccup exclaimed in horror. While he was used to hanging around people that did not have a filter, Gobber was probably the one he feared the most. Since his best friend’s demise, the blacksmith has been recounting stories of him. Some were great to listen to, remembering the bravery and leadership of Stoick the Vast; but some were just better to keep to oneself. With the approach of the Midnight Sun’s peak, Gobber has gotten worse and Hiccup would’ve much preferred wearing the earbuds he made once during his encounter with the Death Song, just to save himself of the embarrassing images his mentor so crassly described to him.

Astrid looked at Gobber with a mixture of disgust and amusement, before deciding to grab her stunned husband’s arm and pulling him towards their house, away from the growing crowd of curious Vikings. She hoped her parents didn’t witness this whole ordeal.

“Astrid, I don’t think I have the energy to do what Gobber obnoxiously suggested, maybe-“ Hiccup said as he was being pulled by his wife.

“-Hush you. That’s not what I had in mind when I came to get you.” She cut him off, continuing to pull him towards their house. She let go of his arm once they crossed their threshold’s doorframe and closed the door, locked it just in case those nosy Vikings decided to rudely barge in.

After being exposed to the sunlight for so long, Hiccup’s eyes had to adjust to the darkness of the room, illuminated by a couple of candles. He could smell a pleasant fragrant scent in the room and spotted their bathtub in front of the lit fireplace; the rugs been removed. Astrid led him to the bathtub and sat him down on the chair that was deliberately placed right next to it. She saw his questioning gaze.

“Gobber was right about you working harder than anyone here in this village. You deserve to relax a bit, take some time off.”

“You know I can’t afford to relax, now. Not when Midsommer is so close. Those sleep-deprived Vikings aren’t going to lead themselves, they can barely listen to me when I’m there. I’ll rest once we’re done.” He said, preparing to stand up again. Astrid pushed him down.

“I’ve asked your mom to take your place for a bit. She’s surprisingly unaffected by the sun’s constant presence. And she agreed that you needed a day off. Everyone could see how tired you are.” Astrid started unbuttoning his (GUARD STUFF). “And I want to take care of my husband. Will you let me?” Hiccup gulped, his words not coming out. He simply nodded. It’s been a while since she saw him being bashful around her. She gratefully smiled at him and pecked him on the lips.

She proceeded to fully undress him, and took off his prosthetic, placing it within reach of the chair. Gone were the days Hiccup felt ashamed of showing his scar. Astrid made sure to show him how much he meant to her, leg or no leg. When he was coming home after a rough day of chiefing, she would give him his ice blocks and tell him to take care of his migraines while she took care of his leg, massaging it. She would sometimes bring it to her lips and kiss it, showing her appreciation to him. He would always beam at her every time she did this. She frowned when she saw the current redness of his stump, also spotting a blister forming.

“Let me help you get in the tub. Just relax. I’ll massage your leg when I come back, I’m going to get some food from the Great Hall.” She said as she rose from her kneeling position. Her cooking did improve over time thanks to Hiccup and Gobber, but she wanted his day off to be perfect, which wasn’t the case for her cooking yet. She tried to make a nice intricate meal for the two of them, which is why she left so early. However, her attempts were all in vain as the food always ended up burning. In the end, she had to admit defeat.

Hiccup grabbed her wrist. “Join me?”

Astrid contemplated his words for a few seconds before nodding. She can grab dinner later. She wrapped her husband’s arm around her shoulder and helped him get into the tub. The water wasn’t too warm since they were in the hottest month of Berk, but it wasn’t cold to the point he would start shivering after being submerged for a couple of minutes.

Hiccup looked over at his wife undress. He had seen her in this state countless times, even before they were married; but it always felt like the first time. He was the only Viking that she allowed to see her like this, with her guard down. Her body wasn’t unscathed. It was filled with scars and burns, proving that this woman was a warrior that has been through so many battles and came out victorious every time. She wouldn’t hesitate to swing an axe to a skull if someone ever looked at her funny. So, this woman allowing him to witness her in her most vulnerable state was an absolute honour to him, that he would never take for granted. Her scars were a part of her and accentuated her beauty and he made sure to always remind her of it.

“Allow me.” He said as he extended a hand towards her. She knew what he wanted and turned her back to him. He rose, sat on the edge of the tub and pulled the leather band that kept her braid in place off. He slowly undid his wife’s braid, letting her gold strands cascade down to her lower back. He then gathered her hair in his hand and swept it over her shoulder, exposing her freckled neck and scarred back. He wrapped his arms around her waist and placed a loving kiss on the largest scar she had. A scar trailed from her right shoulder to the left side of her hip. She was proud of that scar as it was a reminder of her saving his life from an assassination attempt. During the yearly Thing meeting between multiple tribes, when the dragons and some Viking tribes were still cohabiting together, a spy has been placed within them, trying to poison the Dragon-loving Chiefs. Astrid and Heather caught on pretty quickly and managed to expose the spy in front of all the Chiefs. Being surrounded, no one expected the spy to suddenly lunge himself at Hiccup with his sword. Astrid, being the closest to him and desperate to keep him unharmed, had used her back as a shield. The wound hurt like Hel but it was worth it. She was so scared to have failed him as his then-General, she didn’t care that she put her life on the line to save his. A Chief protects his own, but it’s also the General’s job to protect the people AND the Chief. Hiccup wouldn’t let her leave his sight for weeks after that, eternally grateful and forever scared he was going to lose her that day.

“You’re absolutely beautiful.” He told her. His eyes were filled with wonder to this Valkyrie in front of him. She smiled gratefully at him and climbed in the bathtub, sitting opposite of him.

She took his stump in her hands and started to delicately massage it, coaxing a few moans of relief out of him. Her nimble fingers were definitely a gift from the Gods. She managed to soothe the knots in his leg with great accuracy. All day, he had to focus on the utter chaos happening in the village that he didn’t have the time to focus on himself and his discomfort, ignoring the pains coming from his leg begging him to take the weight off of it. She carefully avoided the small blister forming near the bottom of the stump.

“Mmmh, this feels so good.” Hiccup sighed with pleasure as he closed his eye, focussing on the sensation.

“You’ve been standing for too long, babe. I know the Midsummer celebration is stressing you out, but you’ve got to start listening to your body when it tells you to rest.” He opened his eyes, looking at her hands doing their wonders underwater.

“I know, I know. But it’s a bit hard to do that when we keep progressing backward each day. I swear to Odin, every time I look away, someone messes up something, I just can’t do it.” Astrid’s hand rose to swipe Hiccup’s bangs back, revealing his beautiful green eyes. Since the start of the preparations a few weeks ago, he didn’t have the time to let her cut his hair.

“You can’t do it on your own. Remember, you have me. You have your mom, Gobber, Eret and the gang. We’re all here to help you. You just have to accept the help instead of shouldering most of the responsibilities. We’re willing to take some of the load off you.” She said as she grazed her thumb over his dark eye bags. “I can assure you that not only the work will get done much faster, but you’ll be more productive with a rested body and a peaceful mind.” She kissed his forehead. Hiccup wrapped his arms around her, making her sit in his lap. He savoured the rare peaceful moment he had with his beloved wife. She had the gift of shutting all the voices tormenting his mind and the gentle touch to relax his body in the blink of an eye. She was everything to him. He could be the best version of himself when she’s with him and never took her for granted; not since the betrothal gift incident.

“Just don’t forget you’re still human, there’s so much your body can handle before it shuts down.” She added.

“Yeah, you’re right. I might have been pushing myself pretty hard.” Hiccup replied, raising his head to look at her. There was a warmness to her that he never thought she would ever have; especially directed towards him. He remembered her words of encouragement back on the clifftops, as he was losing hope. I am the person I am today because of you. Over the years, he saw how she started to warm up to him and the rest of the people. She had been trained for years to be this fearless, unemotional warrior. Back then, the fear of losing the people you love was at its peak, so she was quick to learn how to shut her feelings down and just train from dawn till dusk. Today, she was a softer and warmer person; which didn’t mean she was weaker by any means. But with the end of the Dragon War, she has found herself a partner that saw her as an equal. They both found themselves a new purpose in life and didn’t have to fear the threat of a dragon raid any longer, which allowed them to find happiness along the way. They were happy here.

Astrid got off his lap and reached for the soap that was earlier placed at a reachable distance. She looked back at him. “Soak.” And so, he plunged his head underwater before coming back up with his bangs fully covering his eyes. She stifled a laugh as did he. “I haven’t planned to cut your hair today, so I’ll do that next laugardagr, you think you can survive until then?” She started washing his hair with the soap in her hands.

“You made a whole schedule just to help me relax? A schedule? Did I mistakenly marry Fishlegs?” This earned him a pinch on his nipple. “OW! You know they’re sensitive. I did not deserve that!” She laughed as she brought her hands back to massage his scalp. The nipple pinching forgotten, his eyes rolled back into his skull, fully appreciating the head massage. “Ooh yeah, that feels nice.” Astrid brought his bangs back down to cover his eyes and gathered the excess foam and piled it upon his head in the form two horns. She exploded in laughter at the ridiculous sight. “Wha- Astriiid!“

“You look like Snotlout’s pet yak! Oh Gods- I can’t!” She wheezed.

Hiccup was not impressed and got rid of the foam and swiped his bangs back, exposing his frown. His small smile betrayed him though. It was rare to see Astrid lose composure and in a burst of full-blown laughter. It made him break his frown and laugh with her.

“You, young lady, are in reeeally big trouble. Do you have any idea who I am?”

“Yakkity’s long lost brother?” She joked.

“Okay, that’s it, come here you!” He grabbed her by the waist and started poking her sides, knowing very well she was ticklish there. “I shall not tolerate this type of disrespect on my island.”

She tried to grab his arm, but this time he was prepared and pinned her arms by wrapping an arm around her and continuing tormenting her with the other. How she wished they were fifteen years old again. “N-No- St-Stop!”

“Then say, ‘My husband is the strongest and most handsome Viking in all of Midgard’. Say it.”

“Hahaha, N-not on yo-your life!” Having minimal movement of her arms, Astrid tried to reach downwards instead of fighting the death grip he had around her. She pinched the inside of his thigh, so very close to his precious jewels, making him jump. “Astrid! No!” He stopped tickling her but kept his arm around her.

“I will pinch higher if you don’t let me go, babe.” She tried to catch her breath from all the tickling.

“You’re awful, absolutely awful.” He whined as he let her go.

“You’re lucky this is your relaxation time.” She said, a small glint in her eyes.

“Oh yeah, what kind of torment would you inflict on your poor one-legged husband?” He challenged.

“Something that would require you to use your cane for the next day or so.” She fired back; a small, dangerous smile etched on her face. Hiccup’s eyes widened and he gulped. “But we’re both tired and I did promise to take care of my sweet husband, haven’t I? So, behave.” She flicked his exposed forehead.

“Ow. How did I get myself into this mess?” He rubbed the sore spot.

“You kidnapped me and threw me on top of a tree.” She replied with a straight face.

“Fair enough.”

“Okay, you’ve had soap in your hair for long enough, rinse.” She ordered. He dived in again, washing off the soap.

“Can I wash your hair?” He asked.

“But it’s your time off.”

“Yeah, but it’s yours too. You worked just as hard. You deserve to be taken care of too.” He replied.

“You worked harder.” He rolled his eyes.

“Astrid, this isn’t a competition. I want to take care of my wife. Will you let me?” He grabbed her hand and slowly spun her around in the narrow tub and made her sit between his legs.

“You’re always looking for an excuse to touch my hair.” She jokingly said. There was an element of truth though. He loved touching her hair, combing his fingers through her long strands. Since they have gotten married, he insisted on combing and braiding her hair in the morning. There was just something intimate and therapeutic about touching her hair. She was protective over it, never letting anyone but him touch it. The first time she let down her hair for him was during the incident that left her temporarily blind. She was not able to see how much soot covered her precious hair, so she entrusted it in his care. He remembers his heart beating so fast that he thought it was going to burst from his chest. He felt honoured, and has been craving to touch her beautiful golden locks ever since.

Astrid on the other hand, hated when people touched her hair. It was her pride and joy (after Stormfly and her axe). As a child, every time her mom would braid her hair, she would always pull too hard, leaving her sore. The twins were more chaotic when they were kids. They would get away with anything because kids will be kids. As a prank, they decided it would be funny to set her hair on fire, forcing her to cut it above her shoulders. That day, she saw red and very nearly beat them to death. They were all severely punished for it, but no one has ever attempted to touch her hair ever again. He remembered that day very well, it was probably the first time he saw her cry. That’s when he learned how attached she was to her hair. The way she preened on it every night since they became a couple on the Edge reminded him so much of Stormfly. Her dragon always made sure there was not a single hair out of place after a flight. It amused him how she trusted a dragon more than Vikings to manage her hair. Stormfly had the gentle touch that Astrid craved someone to have. She always wanted her rider to look the best.

“Well?” Astrid asked as she looked back. Hiccup’s thoughts were cut off.

“Oh...Uh yeah, my bad.” He started to massage her scalp as she did him.

“Okay, I’m done. You can rinse.” He said after working on her hair for the past couple of minutes.

She dipped her head underwater and got rid of the soap before emerging again.

“Thanks.” She turned her head and smiled at him.

“I should be thanking you; this whole ‘bath’ idea was yours. It felt nice.” He kissed her exposed shoulder as he embraced her.

“Well, don’t thank me yet. We’re not done.” She patted his hand.

“Not done?”

“What, did you really think that was it? Come on, let’s get out before our skin shrivels up like a prune.” She got out of his arms, turned around, and grabbed him. She helped him up and guided him to the chair, passed him a towel, and proceeded to dry themselves before taking his prosthetic and putting it back on his stump. She started to put her clothes on, so Hiccup followed suit until she stopped him.

“Nuh-uh, just wear a towel, I highly doubt you want your clothes to be stained with oil.”

“What?”

“A massage, Hiccup. I’m going to give you a massage. Gods, even a blind man would know how tense you are just by standing near you.” She answered.

“Why are you getting dressed then? Don’t I get to give you one?”

“Next laugardagr, after I trim that overgrown mop of hair of yours. Gods have mercy on my shears.”

“S-Shears?! And by the way, my hair isn’t that bad!” Hiccup dramatically exclaimed. Astrid rolled her eyes. “I’ve never seen a man with that much hair on their head, I swear if we shave everything off, we’ll have enough to make a scarf. No need for sheep anymore.”

“First, I’m a yak, now I’m a sheep? Is that how you see me, Astrid? Nothing more than livestock? How you wound me.” He brought a hand up to his heart. Astrid let out a cackle.

“You are such a drama queen. Come on, get up your highness, there’s fresh meat to be tenderized before I chop it off and feed it to the village.” She helped him up and headed towards their bedroom.

“Please Astrid, can you be any more creepy?” It was his turn to roll his eyes.

They finally reached their room. The shutters were sealed shut, preventing most of the light to penetrate the room. Candles were illuminated, giving off the same soothing atmosphere as downstairs, cutting them off from the agitated outside world. The bed was covered by a large towel, probably to avoid the oil soak into their sheets. Astrid made her husband lie down on his stomach, removed his prosthetic again, and sat on his butt. She started tracing his back muscles with feathery fingers which made him shivers. While Hiccup was still a lean man, he definitely wasn’t the same fifteen-year-old, shy boy that she found herself falling in love with. He quickly gained muscle mass thanks to dragon-riding and her extensive sword fighting lessons. Just like all the other riders, he started to lose some after the dragons’ departure a year ago. He remained, in her eyes, the most beautiful man ever.

She caressed his back and leaned forward, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades, making him sigh lovingly. He was clearly enjoying her pampering and she wasn’t about to stop any time soon. She reached for the small vial that was ready to be used from their bedside table and poured the contents in her hands and rubbed them together to heat it up a bit. Astrid proceeded to rub his shoulders first, trying to undo that visible tension. She added her bodyweight as she tried to loosen those knots that caused his painful backaches.

“Mmh, yeah that’s the spot.” Hiccup moaned as she rubbed a specific sore area. She continued her ministrations for a bit and slowly moved onto his lower once she was satisfied with how loose and relaxed his shoulders became.

“How are you feeling?” She asked while kneading his legs.

“Like a newborn yak.” He replied, his voice muffled by the pillows. She sniggered, happy that he’s enjoying this so much.

Hiccup can’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed. He truly thought he was going to melt into a puddle under her magic hands. He knew he didn’t know when to stop working. His muscles could be aching and his bones could be breaking, but he never stops until someone does or until he collapses. He had big shoes to fill and couldn’t bear to let his village down. Not when his father did a tremendous job at leading. Once Stoick finally admitted to his blindness, he saw so much growth and potential in his son, and Hiccup did his best to uphold what his father saw in him. While Stoick had to lead alone for years, Hiccup couldn’t be any more grateful to have an amazing partner by his side, supporting him. He knew he wouldn’t remain sane had he lost her like his father lost his wife. He was no idiot. He saw how he struggled when his soulmate was believed to be dead and couldn’t possibly see a future without Astrid. She was everything to him and more. The entire village knew that. They weren’t being led by the Chief and the Chief’s wife. They were Chief and Chieftess. Equals. One couldn’t function without the other. Some would say that they’re too dependent on each other and would lead the tribe to their downfall. But the Berkians knew better. Together, they were stronger than anyone.

“Turn around.” She ordered. And he complied. She sat back on his lap and leaned down to kiss him. He quickly wrapped his arm around her and savoured their kiss. They should do this more often. He missed having some quality time with just her.

Just as his hands started traveling a bit lower, a large grumbling sound resonated across the room. They separated and looked at each other. The couple started laughing.

“Well, someone is hungry. When was the last time you ate?” Astrid asked.

“Honestly, I can’t remember.” He sheepishly replied. She sighed. “Go sit in front of the hearth and let your hair dry. I’ll go grab some food from the Great Hall, I’ll be back soon.” She passed him his prosthetic and headed downstairs, leaving their household on the quest for food.

He doesn’t know how long he had been staring at the flames when she came back, a basket in hand. She approached him and sat on the floor beside him, handing him the food.

“Thank you, Milady.” He smiled at her.

“Sorry about not having any meals prepared at home.” She timidly said, looking down at her bowl of stew. “I tried to cook something from my mom’s recipes but my cooking skills are still pretty subpar. No matter how hard I tried, it just wasn’t perfect.”

He recognized those words. It just wasn’t perfect. That’s why it took them so long to become a couple, to begin with. He knew he was romantic when it comes to being in a relationship. Even before he set his eyes on anyone, he already thought of perfect scenarios with his soulmate. All the gestures and gifts; anything to quench this loneliness he felt as a young boy. He wanted his partner to feel loved. That’s why the medallion incident hit him hard. Since when did he start neglecting Astrid, causing her to feel that exact same loneliness he once felt? He never thought she was a romantic, being a hardcore shieldmaiden most of her life. But he learned that she also longed for love, she was just better at hiding it. At that time, he was still self-conscious. He has never heard her telling him that she loved him, but hearing her share her insecurities, he realized that she has. So many times, through a variation of loving gestures that she reserved for him and only him. He felt guilty for being so blind, which is why he made up for it. She deserved the best. She deserved perfect.

“Hey.” He scooted closer to her, their shoulders bumping. “This seems pretty perfect to me.” She looked at him with wide eyes. “You have no idea how eternally grateful I am to have you. This whole thing you’ve prepared for me is just perfect. I love it. I love you. So much. Whether you managed to cook an intricate meal or just brought food back from the Great Hall wouldn’t have changed anything. You did this for me, and it made me so happy. And I get to spend some time with you. I couldn’t ask for more, Astrid. Thank you.” He tenderly kissed her lips.

“I’m glad.” She paused. “And relieved.” She confessed, a smile on her lips.

They happily ate in silence, occasionally striking a conversation or just randomly stole a kiss from each other; just enjoying each other’s presence.

Their empty bowls were cast aside as they cuddled in front of the fire; savouring this rare moment of peace and quiet. Hiccup ran his fingers through her now dry hair.

“Will you let me braid your hair?” She looked at him for a few seconds before nodding and turning her back to him. He delicately combed through her silky golden tresses with his fingers, undoing the small knots and separated her hair into three parts. He expertly twisted the locks in a loose braid. Usually, Astrid wouldn’t braid her hair when going to bed as it provided a thin layer of heat for her neck. Winter in New Berk was just as merciless as Old Berk, but right now, they were approaching the hottest days of the year. While the air was still cool when evening came, she didn’t need that much coverage as the fire heated the room to a perfect temperature.

Astrid passed the leather band that was hanging on her wrist to her husband as he finished tending her hair. He attached it and swept her hair over her shoulder. Placing a light peck on the nape. She shivered at the contact and fell back, trusting Hiccup to catch her, which he did. He pressed his lips on her now accessible forehead. She laid in his arms for a while, just relishing the feeling of having his arms around her and the small, tickling kisses all across her face.

“Is this what you’ve been up to the whole time when you said you wanted to go home?” He asked.

“The failed cooking took most of my time.” She lamented.

“Did you have time to rest?” Astrid looked away. She knew she needed extra time to do the cooking, but she didn’t expect to fail that hard. In the end, it took much more time than she expected. Not that she felt like she needed a break, her husband needed it more than she did. But she was hoping to have more quality time with him. Unfortunately, after the fourth try, she decided to throw the towel.

“I’ll rest when you do.” Just as she said that the blonde Viking let out a yawn.

“Well, someone is getting tired.” Hiccup teased.

“I’ve been tired since our beloved Goddess Sol decided to show off all her glory even more so than usual.” Hiccup fought back a yawn that didn’t go unnoticed by his wife. “Seems like I’m not the only one that’s tired. Come on babe, let’s get you to bed.” She freed herself from his embrace and got up, lending a hand to help her husband up too. They headed upstairs, leaving the dirty dishes for tomorrow.

Once in their bedroom again, they undressed and put on their thin nightwear, hoping to finally get a comfortable night of sleep. They got in bed and Hiccup spooned her, letting her get comfortable in his arms. They sighed in content.

“Astrid?” He hesitantly called out, hoping she didn’t already fall asleep.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

“You know you don’t need to thank me”

“I know, but you always seem to know what I need before I even do. So, I want to thank you. I really appreciate it. I love you, Milady.” He kissed the back of her head.

She squeezed his hand that was resting around her waist. “I love you too.” She sleepily answered.

He tightened his arms around her as he let sleep consume him.

Gods, how he loved that woman.

oOo

So this one-shot was written while I was writing another Hiccstrid story. I just needed a break since I was having a writer's block and I desperately needed some heartwarming fluff because the other one is heavy, at least for me it is. This one-shot could possibly have a potential smut scene one day, I just have no idea how to write those yet.

The other story will be posted soon, depending on how inspired I am. It's either going to be a long one-shot or a short chaptered fiction. To this day, I have written around 11K words, and it could possibly reach 20K. All I'm going to reveal for now is that Astrid is going to have a bad time. Hopefully you guys will be interested.

Also, would anyone be interested in a separate one-shot on how Astrid got that scar? I don't know why, I love Astrid so much that I need to read/write Astrid!Whump fics.

#hiccstrid fanfiction #fanfic #hiccstrid #married life #Astrid Hofferson #Hiccup Haddock #httyd #httyd 3

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jangmi-latte · 4 years

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❞𝐀𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞... ❝

➻ content: cute little hedgehogs and a pouty dorm leader!

➻ warnings: extra diabetes!

➻ comments: diamond and clover..good job..

➵ this has actually been in my fridge for quite a while now, might as well cook it. this was supposed to be my first meal but, i must admit i got lazy. well here you go! a baby riddle!

It was Saturday. Saturday morning, to be precise. The students could finally rest and calm down from the tons of requirements the teachers would always bombard them with. Except, Heartslabyul. The dormitory founded on the severity of the queen was not having the rest they wanted.

Especially Riddle.

The wailing redheaded boy was having a tantrum in Trey's arms, the taller male bouncing the younger as he waited for Cater with those tarts. Somehow, the strict dorm leader had turned into a toddler. The cause? A simple error during alchemy class.

Floyd has broke a vile of an unfinished potion which sent the liquid to fly everywhere. Mostly hitting Riddle at some point. Everyone was unaffected, yet Crewel was having doubts unto why there wasn't any outcome from the potion.

Until Trey went to Riddle's room, worrying since Riddle does not usual get up this late in the morning. Hence, seeing the naked little baby that now replaced the prefect's bed.

"Shhhh... It's okay,” soothed the obviously worried Trey.

He has taken care of his younger siblings before, surely this isn’t a hard task. He has gotten small clothes and dressed him up in a pajama onesie. Yet, he was wrong. Riddle isn’t calming down at all. They tried giving him toys–probably all came from Sam’s shop along with the clothes–yet he just threw them away. Ace made it worst by pinching the young boy’s cheeks and teasing him a lot. That’s how Trappola ended up kicked out from the dorm again. Deuce volunteered on alerting Professor Divus about what happened and he hasn’t come back yet.

Just luckily enough, Riddle’s magic hasn’t gone bonkers.

“Let’s head outside.” The vice prefect picked up a ball to keep Riddle distracted before heading outside to the Rose Maze. Students stared in either in awe, surprise, or just simply stared dumbfounded at the sight of Riddle. Yes, he was adorable indeed.

Upon arriving at the Rose Maze, little Riddle was placed on a blanket, that Trey had some students lay out for him, still whimpering and hiccuping from his small tantrum, “Agh...” Trey scratched the back of his head before sitting beside him. Riddle was looking around with those big teary eyes of him, as if he was getting accustomed to new surroundings. The taller male sighed and wiped the toddler’s wet cheeks, “What am I supposed to do now?” he mumbled to himself as he looked around the maze.

At least Riddle had calmed down now. All was heard from him were little hiccups, sniffles, and...giggling. Trey looked over and the sight made him smile and chuckle. A hedgehog has found its way to the blanket and Riddle finally found a small playmate. The pink hedgehog waddled around him while he clapped his hands and giggled loudly. He looked so happy. His small chubby hands carried the hedgehog, cooing and babbling to it like he was trying to say something.

Then a click of a camera was heard.

“Awwww!” Cater cooed as he gave Trey the box of tarts before crawling over to Riddle. This boy is WAY different from the Riddle they all knew. Cute, giggly, cuddly, you name it, that was this Riddle, “You–” Cater carried the young boy and placed him on his lap, took the hedgehog in the other as it squirmed, “are so cute! Though I do hope you don’t remember all of this. I don’t want my head chopped off,” chuckled the third year.

Riddle whined as his eyes stayed glued on the little creature on Cater’s palms. He made grabby hands while babbling, “Hedgie...!” he babbled and kicked his legs around. Cater’s lips formed into an ‘o’ before handing the hedgehog to the little kid, though still keeping a hold of it. Riddle was back to his happy little self again as he patted the hedgehog, “Trey can he stay like this forever?!” squealed Cater.

“I don’t think so,” Trey responded with a chuckle

It was already evening, and Deuce still wasn’t back. Trey and Cater were already tired of taking care of Riddle. Why? He was very stubborn and wanted to rummage the pantry full of sweets. Against the rules? Definitely. They’re hoping he wouldn’t remember ANYTHING.

“Riddle, please just eat it.”

Cater scratched his head while Trey tried to feed Riddle his dinner. It was pumpkin pasta, made by the vice dorm leader himself, “Come on Riddle,” he groaned. Little boy was being stubborn, pushing away Trey’s hand and yelling a small, ‘no’. Why? He wanted macaroons. Cater was waving a small bunny plushie in front of Riddle but it wasn’t working, “Look at the bunny, Riddle!” he sang. Riddle took the bunny, hugging in tightly in his arms before Trey shoved the spoon in his mouth.

With a big angry pout, Riddle chewed on pasta while attempting to give Trey a glare. It was too cute that Cater took a picture of it.

“Trey-senpai!” Deuce called as he ran inside Heartslabyul’s dining area.

“You’re finally back.”

“I’m sorry. I had to help Professor Crewel with the ingredients while he checked on the other students who were splashed with the potion. It was just Riddle-senpai who turned into a baby.” Deuce gave the bottled liquid to the third year. “He needs to drink the whole potion to work though,” he whispered since Riddle was staring at him with those cute big silver eyes of his.

“He doesn’t even want the pasta. How are we going to feed him that?” Cater interjected as he carried the little toddler that’s still staring at Deuce.

“Bring Ace in to distract him?”

“No that’ll make him angry and he’ll cry again. I’m too tired to deal with two kids.”

“Ah!” Cater realized. “There’s milk in the fridge. Maybe we can pour the potion in a bottle? That wouldn’t ruin the potion’s mixture right?”

Trey nodded, too tired to even think, “Let’s feed it to him once bed time comes. Deuce, once we’re in Riddle’s room, bring Ace in. Thank you for your help.” Trey placed the leftover food on the sink. He’ll deal with it later.

Riddle babbled, pointed at Deuce while squishing the bunny in his hand. The first year awkwardly waved at his prefect while Cater grinned, “Do you want to carry him Deuce-chan?” Cater walked over to the male, making the younger to immediately shake his head, “N-No thanks Cater-senpai!” He dashed away.

Shrugging, Cater looked over at Trey, “So...”

“Bath time?”

“Please make it easy, Riddle...”

“Op wit chu ed! (off with your head)”

“That was so cute!!! Say it again!”

“Don't! Just be thankful his magic didn't work!”

A wet floor, two wet third-year students, and a calm Riddle.

Remember when Trey pleaded for Riddle to be calm during bath time? It didn’t go exactly as the third year wanted it to be.

Once Riddle was in the tub, it was like every single thing was new to him. He was fascinated and always wanted to touch it. He surely was quiet when he was placed in the tub. Well-behaved and patiently waiting for the two to do whatever they plan to do to him. Until he felt water did start splashing his arms up and down. He was giggling and squealing that Cater had to hold his arms down. Trey was already drenched, his glasses were already left on the sink, and was the one to clean him up.

Rubber duckies and the loofah were Riddle’s distraction since he loves dipping them under water. He would whine when the loofah runs out of bubbles, he tried eating one, and Trey would have to squeeze some liquid soap on it before he starts crying again.

If Riddle’s doing this on purpose, they would beg for him to just use his unique magic on them than letting them suffer this babysitting job.

Once they were done bathing him, Cater dried him off, Riddle’s still holding the loofah, and zoomed into his bedroom. Deuce had volunteered with the milk and potion. He was able to mix it in a bottle and taste tested it, it tasted the same. “Okay now you’re dressed.” Trey had dressed Riddle up in his sleep clothes this time and not pajama onesies. No one wants to hear their recovered dorm leader yelling first thing in the morning just because he’s naked, right?

It looked so big on him that Riddle flapped his arms and giggled. Another photo for Cater’s gallery, “Now–” Trey placed Riddle under the sheets, the bunny plushie beside him, and the little boy snuggled and yawned. “time for bed, Riddle.”

Deuce gave the bottle and Riddle’s lips latched around the nipple as he eagerly sucked. All three students watched as his eyes slowly drooped down until it was completely shut.

How relieved they are.

Once the bottle was empty, Cater took it as they all prepared to hide away all the baby stuff they bought, “Let’s just hope it works...”

The next morning came. 8:00 am.

Trey had got up, and almost immediately, dashed to Riddle’s room. As he entered, a relieved sigh was heard from him as he leaned on the door frame.

“What day is it Trey?”

“Sunday.”

“What?!”

Ah, finally, he’s back!

Trey walked over to seventeen-year-old prefect and sat on his bed, “You don’t remember?” “Remember what exactly?!”

He doesn’t remember a thing. Riddle was overly confused, but he didn’t feel entirely odd. What happened really? Was he asleep the whole day yesterday?! His thoughts were running wild and Trey just snickered, “Yes, you were asleep the whole day. We were worried about you.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up then?!”

“We tried. It might’ve been the potion that Floyd dropped.”

“That leech–!”

“Don’t worry. It’s handled already. Come, I’ll prepare breakfast. You need to recover.”

It’s best he doesn’t know about a thing.

Everything went smoothly that morning. Trey made sure not a single student spoke about Saturday’s events. Cater would hide his phone and Deuce kept his mouth shut. Riddle was back to normal, which means everything will be as well. The two babysitters were relieved that they can finally rest.

But they forgot one thing as the doors of Heartslabyul were slammed open.

“Ah! You’re not a baby anymore!” Ace yelled.

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aty-altiria · 4 years

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FOR THE GREATER GOOD

No 9. FOR THE GREATER GOOD “Take Me Instead” | “Run!” | Ritual Sacrifice

Oh this was a FUN titles for a Harry Potter ficlet lemme tell you guys. So of course I had to do the thing.

Word count: 1085

Universe: Harry Potter

Pairings: Fem!Harry/Tom Riddle

Rating: T

Themes: Death, some Character bashing, implied mind-control, insanity-sort of

Summary: It’s the begging that helps Holly realize that there is an escape from her position. Because, for as long as she’d known him, Tom has never once begged, and even if he did, he wouldn’t do it to save her. So... there simply must be another way out, and his words are the clue Holly needs to find it.

@whumptober2020

----

"Remember this Potter, I don't beg. I will never plead, and any thought of me being kind… remove it from your head. It will never happen. If you can accept that, then I will take you… if only for your potential."

"Holly!"

Holly could barely hear his voice anymore. It was only a whisper in the back of her head, a ghostly thing promising violence. In fact, Holly couldn't even put a name to that voice. She knew… she knew it was familiar. It was in a way that could never be forgotten, but… she no longer knew why.

"Lift your arms! Get up!"

She couldn't do that. There was nothing physically holding her down, but Holly still couldn't so much as shift despite the voice asking it of her. Her arms were flat on the ground, palms facing up, and she was stuck there. Holly was pinned down, forced onto her back. She was trapped.

Shifting her eyes to the side as far as they would go allowed Holly to see a circle surrounding her. The ring was made of glowing purple lettering - runes. Bleary-eyed and unfocused, Holly could still read the symbols as if they'd been written in English… he had ensured she knew to do that much. What she could make out, well, it meant nothing good for her.

Moving her attention outward, Holly discovered that she was at the center of the circular design. While outside it was fretful faces; their names came easy, and the feeling of thick betrayal soured her tongue. Any sense of familiarity died as she stared at them, as she felt the air thicken with betrayal.

"Holly! In Morgana's name! You have to move!"

Hermione, Ron, Minerva… Molly, Arthur, Kingsley, Remus… Dumbledore. They'd told her this was for the greater good, they'd told her she'd be safe, that she'd understand once it was all over. She didn't believe it. Holly had fought back with all the strength she possessed, and considering she was the most powerful witch of the age… that was a lot. And then they'd fought dirty- the diary, they'd stolen it from her, they threatened it, threatened him, and she could do nothing but surrender.

Now, this was the result.

Holly moved her eyes along the 'worried' group. Everything about the motion was sluggish, even her own mind was a bit behind. But as she scanned the area, she found a second runic circle in black where her diary lay. At its center, forced down, chained to the flooring by his wrists… was her- her-

He opened his mouth, face twisting in a snarl as finally caught Holly's gaze and mouthed the words: 'Do you want us both to die Potter?!'

Tom.

Holly's fingers dug into the floor beneath her. Tom, he was her only friend. He was the only one who listened when she told him she was abused, and he never judged just because she was a parseltongue. Tom hadn't turned on her when her name had spawned from the goblet. Nor ignored her when Umbridge came into the picture. Tom was her only real ally. Her only friend. Tom was the one she loved, the other half of her soul. They were connected, and Holly wasn't letting either of them die here.

Dumbledore stepped forward, and the stern expression on Tom's face melted away to one of more concern, a mask like all the rest Holly instantly knew. "Once the ritual is complete, Tom's connection to Holly will be severed. All thoughts to the positive, we should see immediate recovery, and she should return to her original personality."

A mouse. Dumbledore was talking about when Holly had been eleven and desperate for anyone to look at her. When she'd tanked her grades for approval, skived her studies because Ron asked her too. When Holly couldn't handle the Dursley's. When she was nothing but a follower. Dumbledore was talking about Holly's personality before the diary dropped into her lap and showed her what she could be.

Holly clenched her fists, moved them despite the runes tying her down. She… she was the strongest witch in an age, and she would not allow a few runes stop her. Forcing herself to shift, to gain any sort of motion, Holly managed to smudge the rune closest to her and felt her thoughts moving a touch faster. Holly swiftly scanned the area, environment. Tom had always enforced the need to be aware of it; she spotted Snape off to the side with a blank expression, then turned back to Tom. From the side, Holly could see he was positively snarling at Dumbledore, an uncharacteristic amount of anger was on his face. Holly knew the expression was an act, yet she still found the idea he was that moved by her imprisonment flattering. Even Dumbledore seemed slightly taken aback because Tom was usually far more eloquent and manipulative. This emotional version was a surprise to them all. But as Dumbledore assumed and Holly knew, it was an act to distract Dumbledore so Holly could escape.

"Let her go! Take me instead!"

That wasn't a surprise either, not considering what Holly housed. She was the key to Tom's revival but… but not the one she preferred. Holly was the key to Voldemort's soul, not Tom. Because Tom was nothing but a revived Horcrux. He was the diary brought into physical existence through Holly's magic, a Muggle sacrifice, and years of planning. Tom was also considered Holly's teacher and guard, just as she was supposed to be his. They'd both failed today… Voldemort would be furious.

Tom would be killed if she didn't do something, and the Horcrux within her would be ripped away. Then Holly would be reduced to a shell, and she would not expect Voldemort to help her; he wouldn't. The only one who would was… Tom.

Holly snapped her eyes to the floor again and tried to move her hands again. Every shift was hard-won, but each shift smudged another poorly drawn rune. It was intelligent work, Hermione's probably, but the attention to the big picture was missing. Tom was like that too. He was beyond smart, but he didn't miss the obvious; he'd never have drawn the runes for the critical ritual in chalk. Holly moved again, Tom was distracted the group entirely all but for Snape. This was quite the test for the spy. To speak out or not, his choice could doom her. She had to act regardless. Holly shifted her foot, scuffed a rune there. She wiggled her body while Tom completely 'lost it.' She rubbed her head on the ground, got chalk in her hair and- could move.

Tom was intelligent; he was the smartest person Holly knew. He knew obscure magic that Dumbledore couldn't even dream of. Tom knew how to revive the dead, prevent death, and craft a body using ritual sacrifice without ever needed to harm Holly. He was smart, and that was where the danger came from. Tom was a genius with a level of control over his magic that was unheard of. This was the reason Voldemort had been so terrifying before his original defeat. This was also why, while still insane, Voldemort had been a tenth of a threat. Because Voldemort was madness and wild magic, he had been uncontrolled and had none of Tom's strengths.

Holly wasn't smart like Tom was. She didn't have the extreme control he could pull off. Holly could cast wandlessly, on occasion without effort, because Holly knew spells just that intimately. But what Holly lacked for in control and genius-level intelligence, she more than made up for in power. Holly was brute strength, the kind that allowed her to knock out a dragon with a stupefy. The type that froze entire lakes with a flick of the wand. That could force a whole hoard of Dementors back with one Patronus.

She was power.

Holly shoved her hands on the ground, hurled herself into a crouch and tossed her palms outward. Dumbledore hadn't even realized she was free yet, not like Snape, who'd never taken his eyes from her. Dumbledore only noticed when Tom finally smiled. That insane expression, a manic look that made Tom resemble Voldemort. The sign that the creation of the first Horcrux hadn't entirely left his soul unaffected- and then Dumbledore was flying across the room. He and the order cracked against the walls under the sheer force of Holly's magic. One moment of distraction that Tom earned her, and they were defeated.

Tom's smile grew until it was all teeth. Nothing charming was left in its wake, but oh how Holly loved it when he smiled like that. Tom was real like this.

"Well done, Holly."

Her magic swirled around her like a whirlwind. Holly scarcely noticed Hermione begging her to let them help her. Didn't acknowledge Remus telling her she was being possessed, controlled. Or Arthur and Molly yelling that she would end up like Ginny… Tom was proud of her- Holly smiled a little bit crazed. They didn't get it. They thought the diary was controlling her; they thought she had no control over her actions. That she was blank, had large gaps of memory loss, that Tom was utterly in control, and Holly needed to be saved.

They had no idea.

No idea that Tom had never once taken over her body. He'd simply offered her the acceptance that Dumbledore had designed her to crave freely. He'd built up her loyalty over years. Had been a willing ear, a patient but firm teacher. Holly hadn't been wrong in her assumption that she and Tom were soulmates, for she was well aware that she held a part of his soul. He understood her in a supernatural way. Perhaps it was because Tom knew from the Horcrux within her. Maybe he'd cheated and had read her mind. But Holly was long past caring.

Holly looked to Snape, the only one who hadn't been thrown back and watched him kneel as she scuffed the runic work tying Tom down with her trainers. Holly stepped into the runic circle herself and plucked the diary, that sentimental empty Horcrux, from the ring's center and held it close. She then freed Tom from the chains while her former friends wailed and pleaded. Tom stepped free as Dumbledore tried to escape, to ordered Severus to do something. Tom stalked the room, debating their next step.

Eventually, Tom approached Snape and snatched hold of his arm. Snape smothered a flinch even as he kept his head low in deference. "I am uncertain what to do with you Severus, you didn't warn of this… but nor did you interference with Holly's escape." Tom grabbed Severus' face and forced it up, "It seems time to truly discover where your loyalties lie."

Holly knew Tom would plunder Snape's mind for any information he deemed necessary. Such a thing could take days, hours, or minutes. She suspected the latter though, they weren't exactly safe, and he wouldn't allow himself to remain unfocused for too long. Not with Dumbledore so close, not while the man was actively attempting to escape. To prevent any… mistakes, Holly flicked her hand to disarm the group and palmed Dumbledore's wand for future casting.

"Select one within the group, they will be the final ingredient for your Horcrux."

Holly glanced at Tom, he was still looking at Snape, but he'd spoken his order in her head. And it was an order, so Holly got to work. She turned toward the small group, still pinned to the wall debating. Remus was dismissed; the werewolf aspect could cause issues, and despite everything, Holly still held some measure for Remus through her parents; that and Sirius probably would disapprove. Molly, Minerva, and Hermione were likewise dismissed out of sheer disinterest; they didn't feel right. This left Kingsley, Arthur, Ron, and Dumbledore.

That would be poetic.

And her manic smile grew.

#whumptober2020 #no.9 #take me instead #ritual sacrifice #run #harry potter #tom riddle #hp fanfic #fanfiction #tomarry #harrymort #bad dumbledore

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hibiscusangel15 · 4 years

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Why Tragedy Exists

An angsty @ichirukimonth 2020 fic this time.

Summary: When you spent your whole life fighting, what was there to do when you had nothing left to fight for? What purpose did Kurosaki Ichigo even have in this world anymore?

Ichigo’s life during the seventeen months without Rukia. For Day 7 of Ichiruki Month 2020.

Rating: Teen

(Belated) Day 7 Prompt: why are you full of rage? because you are full of grief.

Also crossposted to FFN and AO3!

When you spent your whole life fighting, what was there to do when you had nothing left to fight for? What purpose did Kurosaki Ichigo even have in this world anymore?

“Hey, bleached-hair kid! I’m talkin’ to you, asshole!” Another faceless thug snagged his collar. Yet another nameless gang gathered to back up their cookie-cutter character of a leader.

He shouldn’t be here. He didn’t want to be here. But where else did he have to go?

Another meaningless scuffle. Another bruise, another scrape, more blood to be cleaned later.

Flurried fists and tiny pocket knives and screamed obscenities never seemed so dull before.

Other boys his age often picked fights with him. Had done so as far back as he could remember. All over trifling, inconsequential matters that seemed so laughable to him now. His hair, his attitude, his existence was all wrong.

Only now he had the strength to take them all on by himself. Only now did he choose to fight them for no reason at all.

Chad interfered in one of these fights once. For a moment, they were a team again. They fought side-by-side without the burden of death or the balance of the worlds looming over their heads. This was just a brawl on the street. Nothing more, nothing less.

Once Chad called an ambulance for all the knocked-out thugs, he offered to treat Ichigo out to some food.

Ichigo said nothing. Didn’t even thank him. Just spat out coppery blood on the concrete and stalked off without looking back. Chad wouldn’t chase after him or insist, he knew. Knew all too well how to take advantage of his friend’s inherent kindness.

He never felt more disgusted with himself.

Time moved on. Everyone around him recovered. They all got over the horrors they’d just barely survived. Only he remained stagnant, falling behind, grasping at something forever out of his reach.

He never thought that saving the world would be so thankless.

Tatsuki once invited him to watch her karate team practice and give them a few pointers. None of the upperclassmen were all that stoked about it, but they’d heard about Kurosaki’s reputation. One of them even challenged him to a fair match to test his skills.

He nearly refused. Until the guy went on and on about how Ichigo’s only fighting experience came from fights in the street. How a punk like him couldn’t possibly have learned the discipline or technique a real warrior possessed.

Tatsuki told this smug upperclassman off, stabbing him with reminders that he didn’t even qualify for nationals last year. The upperclassman—Ichigo was never very good at remembering names—snapped something at her, and it was only then he stood up and accepted his challenge.

Ichigo took him down in a few minutes. Then another upperclassman claimed he cheated and demanded a match with him, and another one after that. Their pride as one of the top karate teams in the nation was staked on this.

Unfortunately, these guys were all weak.

None of them would last a day being a Shinigami.

They begged and begged him to join their team despite all their injuries. Despite how afraid of him they all were. To them, to normal humans, Kurosaki Ichigo was little more than a monster.

So he refused. Such things simply didn’t hold his interest anymore.

And then they offered to pay him.

Ichigo hadn’t had much need for money before. Though his father didn’t make much running the Kurosaki Clinic, his family lived comfortably enough.

Now those bills waved in his face meant something else. Something new to latch onto.

With enough money, he could move far, far away from Karakura Town. He could leave everything behind. Go to a university where no one knew him. Start fresh. Start anew.

Ichigo could forget last year ever happened. He could finally forget her.

He took the deal, but made his own conditions as well. This much would only pay for the week. He wouldn’t ever be considered an official member of the team, so they couldn’t ask him to participate in competitions.

They were not comrades. They were not friends.

Word got out about Ichigo’s “services” to the other sports teams at Karakura High. Soon enough, he found himself making weekly and bi-weekly contracts to help them out during practices.

It was a decent way to make money, he supposed. Looking into how much apartments cost outside the city, though, he knew it wasn’t enough.

He’d have to find another job soon.

Ichigo was out with the track team when he spotted Ishida alone in the park. No, not alone. He couldn’t sense the enemy, but the pocks in the grass and suspiciously trampled playground equipment more than spoke for itself.

He didn’t know what he was going to do when he took off. Instinct never really left much room for rationale, after all.

He leapt high over Ishida’s head, grunting in surprise when his foot connected with an intangible figure. The earth rumbled underneath as a plume of dust kicked up a few feet away.

Definitely a Hollow. A big one.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Kurosaki?” Ishida snapped. His arms were extended before him, holding a bow Ichigo couldn’t see anymore.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m helping you! The least you could do is thank me.”

Idiot! I’m not going to thank you! The echo of her voice rang so unbearably clear in his mind. He wished he could cast it aside, wished the memory of her would not linger in every little thing he did.

Ishida's eyes flickered away, and he leapt a distance much wider than any normal human would’ve been able to cover. A fist-shaped crater bloomed before him. Ichigo raised his arms to block the debris flying past, choking on the dust swirling in the air.

As a habit, he reached behind him for a sword that did not exist anymore. Would not exist ever again.

Fate was once again the millstone, he the grist. It turned relentlessly, endlessly onward, further away from her and back again.

Powerlessness. Normality. Both synonymous with complacency.

Both equaled death.

“You’re only getting in the way, Kurosaki! Just back off and let me handle this for once,” Ishida yelled.

Ichigo watched him mimic pulling an arrow back, deliberate and steady. Watched Ishida fire that shot above his head. There was no fanfare, no sense of accomplishment to accompany it. He didn’t even know where the Hollow was.

“Is it...dead?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

Ishida lowered his arms. “Yes.”

“I see.”

Silence weighed in the air far heavier than any reiatsu ever could.

“Hey, do you ever feel bad about the Hollows you kill?”

Ishida frowned at the question. “What do you mean?”

It was pointless to ask him this. It was pointless to continue.

“Quincies completely destroy souls with their arrows, right?” Ichigo clenched his own shirt in a fist. He had to stop talking. “Don’t you ever feel bad that any random Hollow you killed might be some lost soul in pain?”

Ishida studied him for a wary moment then shoved his glasses further up his nose. “It can’t be helped. If it comes down to saving a Hollow or an innocent soul, I’d choose the innocent one without hesitation. Surely you’d do the same, Kurosaki.”

“I could save both of them.” The words were so quiet, so riddled with hollow confidence. “I’d save them both without even thinking about it.”

“Funny, you once said to me that you knew you couldn’t protect everyone.”

His friends didn’t always have the right words to say. He couldn’t expect them to understand.

And yet….

“But I did save everyone! I saved Karakura Town. I saved the entire damn world as we know it. What makes you think I couldn’t save two souls at once the way I am now?”

His chest ached. The strain was unbearable. He was drowning.

“Are you calling me weak? Do you think I’m so incapable of protecting anyone that you’d rather cast me aside than even let me try?”

Ishida looked away. “Quit putting words in my mouth, Kurosaki. I never said any of that.”

“Oh yeah? I’m in the way? I should back off?” He trembled with directionless rage. “All of you guys think I’m some weakling that needs to be protected. That I can’t fend for myself anymore. And I’m so fucking sick of it!”

“Uh, h-hey, Kurosaki, are you okay?” the captain of the track team asked behind him.

Any idiot would know he wasn’t.

Ichigo turned away. “I’m fine.”

The captain paled at the sight of his scowling face. “Um, you can finish your conversation with your friend—”

“We’re not friends.”

Ishida sucked in a sharp breath, but said nothing. Did nothing. Again.

“Kurosaki!”

Ichigo didn’t turn back. How could he? They’d all turned their backs on him. It only seemed fitting he return the favor.

The wheel continued to turn.

Finals were a pain to deal with, especially with all those remedial classes he had to take for missing so much school before. Though difficult and boring, they weren’t entirely unmanageable.

He hadn’t really talked much to the others in a while. Better to distance himself now. Better they all learn to let him go so he’d have no further reminders of the last year. Of her.

It was stupid to think they’d ever go so quietly, though.

“Ichigo!” Tatsuki called to him on the street.

He stopped walking but refused to look back.

Several sets of footsteps scraped along the concrete behind him.

“You’ve been avoiding us for weeks now, Kurosaki,” Ishida said. “But now that Finals are over, you can’t hide from us anymore.”

“I wasn’t hiding from any of you. We’re all in the same class,” Ichigo replied, keeping his tone unaffected.

“You know that’s not what we mean, Kurosaki.”

Fate was cruel in each revolution. In each turning of the wheel, he would always be crushed under its power.

“Kurosaki-kun,” Inoue piped up, her voice wavering just a bit. “You’ve been acting very strangely since...that day Kuchiki-san left.”

Her name. The mere sound of it dragged him down when he’d tried so desperately to claw himself to the surface.

He hadn’t said her name in months. Didn’t even dare to think it.

“Ishida-kun and Sado-kun and Tatsuki-chan told me everything that’s been happening with you. And...we’re worried.” Her voice bubbled and warped, and he was drowning again. “We don’t know why you’re pushing us all away, Kurosaki-kun.”

They didn’t know? They really didn’t know why he couldn’t bear to be near them?

“I can’t stand the way you all look at me.”

Such a disgustingly petty reason. Such a terrible excuse. When even he couldn’t stand to look at himself anymore.

“Ever since I lost my powers, you’ve all been acting like I'm fragile and useless!”

Enough.

“I can’t stand it!”

Shut up.

“I don’t want your pity!”

Please stop.

“I can’t wait to get the hell out of Karakura Town so you all can finally leave me alone!”

The rain would follow him, though. That cursed rain would always follow him.

He was drowning. Why couldn’t they see?

Tatsuki was the first to speak. “You’ve always been like this.”

“...What the hell did you just say?”

Even now he refused to look at them.

“What, does being mad all the time make you deaf, too?” she snapped. “I said you’ve always been like this, Ichigo. You don’t know any other way to express your grief outside of lashing out.”

“Is that right?” Ichigo stood up straighter. “And what makes you think I’m grieving, Tatsuki?”

“Don’t you dare act like I don’t know you, Kurosaki Ichigo!” Her voice rippled through the water. “We’ve known each other for so long—we’ve been friends for this long—and you couldn’t even bother to tell me what was going on with you from the beginning. I had to learn about all this Shinigami stuff after the fact! And not from you, either! From Orihime! From Chad and Ishida! But you didn’t tell me anything! Not when you left to rescue Kuchiki-san, not when you went to save Orihime…. I know you’re grieving because this is the exact same thing you did when your mother died!”

Ichigo finally whirled on them, eyes burning with so much fury it was difficult to look at him head-on.

Ishida stepped in front of her, arm outstretched like a shield. “So you’ve become the sort of person that would attack your friends over something like this? Do you think Kuchiki-san would be happy if she knew she’d left you in this sorry state?”

They kept saying her name so freely. As if she was so commonplace. As if his heart could bear that burden.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Didn’t she tell you she’d be watching over you, Kurosaki? Do you think she’d approve of anything you’re doing now? All your fights. Your rage. And for what?”

Ichigo gritted his teeth. “I don’t need her approval! I don’t need anything! I’m happy without her! I’m happy I’m finally normal!”

Ishida’s usual calm demeanor cracked, and his face twisted into a scowl. “What you’re doing isn’t normal, Kurosaki! Constantly picking fights with strangers, ignoring all of us, butting into simple Hollow fights—”

Inoue sucked in a breath. Clearly there were some things the others hadn’t told her.

“Does it make you feel strong, Kurosaki? Does it help you forget that, just for a moment, you aren’t completely pathetic?”

Ichigo punched him square in the jaw. His glasses flew off. A sickening crunch sounded under his foot when he took a bewildered step back.

Inoue ran to him immediately. “Ishida-kun!”

Tatsuki grabbed his arm, tried to pin it behind his back and get him to submit. Ichigo wrenched his arm out of her hold and turned to shove her away.

Chad stepped in between them. There was that awful pity reflected in his eyes again.

Ichigo wanted to wipe it away.

Chad took blow after wild blow to the chest, to his stomach, each one more frustrated than the last. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, but he did not move. The pity in his eyes did not change.

Ichigo shoved Tatsuki to the ground when she tried to intervene again. There was yelling. So much yelling. None of it was enough to pierce through the rain. It wasn’t enough to save him.

His hand suddenly bounced off an invisible barrier, bruising the knuckles and his pride all in one shattering blow.

“Kurosaki-kun…” Inoue muttered, her voice cracking.

She flinched when he glared back at her. That look on her face made him hate himself all the more.

It was the same look she wore when he first protected her with his Hollow mask. It was that look every other human threw his way.

Monster.

“Please...stop this.” Tears spilled down her face. Ishida wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders, and she folded into the embrace. “We’re your friends! So please….”

Ichigo couldn’t take it anymore. All his sorrow and grief and aimless rage collapsed around him and he screamed.

Chad caught him before he sank any further. “Ichigo!”

“I can’t…. I don’t….”

He couldn’t breathe. He was drowning. He was dying.

A steady hand squeezed his shoulder, another placed flat on his back. They held him above the water. They lent him their strength.

The rain still echoed around him. He still struggled to stay afloat. But maybe now he would rely on his friends to protect his heart.

A single tear crashed to the ground as bright as a falling star.

“I’m sorry.”

* * *

Quiet mornings were practically nonexistent in Karakura Town.

“Maaaaan, I can’t stand not talking about this anymore! Doesn’t it drive you insane?” Keigo screeched while walking alongside Mizuiro.

Mizuiro scrolled through social media on his phone, only half-listening. “I’m not sure what you mean, Asano-san.”

“Don’t you ‘Asano-san’ me again, Mizuiro! I’m talking about all the weird stuff Ichigo and the others did a while ago! I mean, I know Ishida and Chad and all the others said it’s better if we don’t talk about that stuff with him, but c’mon! How’re you not supposed to talk about ghosts and monsters and Shinigami after finding out they exist? It’s impossible!”

“Considering your track record, I’m surprised you managed to hold out for this long.”

“Now what’s that supposed to mean? I can be sensitive to others’ feelings!” Keigo insisted. “But it’s been forever. Ichigo might be okay if I talk to him about it now.”

“Might be?”

“Don’t make me second-guess myself, Mizuiro! I’m gonna talk about this so much, even I’ll get sick of hearing about it!”

Mizuiro finally looked up. “Everything that happened to us was pretty unbelievable. Sometimes I want to believe it was all some weird nightmare I had. But...I don’t really want to talk about it. There isn’t much left to be said anyway. Not if reminding Ichigo of it all will just depress him.”

At this, Keigo’s enthusiasm deflated. “Well, yeah, I guess. But don’t you wanna know what he thinks about Rukia-chan not coming to visit all this time?”

What a tactless idiot.

Mizuiro’s smile was more polite than genuine. “I think she’s the main reason he’s been feeling down.”

“What? So you’re saying that they—”

“I’m not saying anything, Asano-san.”

His cold facade nearly fell at Keigo's childish pout. Honestly, if he wasn't able to pick up on these things after all the time he'd known Ichigo, then there really was no hope for him.

Keigo didn’t get a chance to talk to him until lunchtime.

“I wonder what Rukia-chan’s up to.”

Ichigo nearly spit out his juice. “What’s Rukia got to do with anything?”

“I’m just saying, would it kill her to pop in and say hello from time to time?” Keigo flopped about on the floor like a fish. “Don’t you think it’s cold of her to not show her face even once since then?”

Yes.

“It’s not cold,” Ichigo replied.

Liar.

“She’s not in charge of Karakura Town anymore, so it’s completely normal for her to not hang around.”

Keigo squinted up at him. “You don’t miss her?”

More than anything.

“No reason to.”

He rattled off the same bullshit excuse he always did whenever anyone brought this up. He always wanted this slow peace. He didn’t need his powers anymore.

He didn’t need her in his life.

Before today, when was the last time he’d spoken her name aloud? When did Rukia become someone who never left his mind?

Ichigo stared up at the sky. Dark clouds blurred through a once-clear blue.

A black butterfly fluttered past. His absent hand trailed after it, chased it in the hopes it would perch itself on his finger. It flew up higher, further than he could reach, and he slowly let his hand fall away.

Fate turned on relentlessly. It would not falter, would not pause even for them. He had wished, foolishly perhaps, that he could go back to the moment Rukia disappeared from his eyes. Go back just to tell her everything he could not say.

He loved her.

He loved her with every fiber of his weak human heart.

The wheel kept spinning. The butterfly grew more distant.

Rukia would not come back to him.

The wind picked up, and he finally turned away.

I wonder if I can keep up with the speed of a world you’re not in.

#ichirukimonth #ichirukimonth2020 #Ichiruki #OTP: Black Sun and White Moon #Kurosaki Ichigo #Kuchiki Rukia #Bleach #my fanfiction

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noonawriter · 3 years

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Delicious Rendezvous Chapter 7

WORD COUNT: 3465

WARNINGS: Bodily harm threats, mention of narcotics, smut, cursing, alcohol consumption, Heechul feels a lot more than he actually realizes

DELICIOUS RENDEZVOUS

CHAPTER 7

Throbbing throughout your body was the first thing you noted. It was hard to pinpoint just where the pain began, where it stopped, but knowing that you felt it was a good sign. You were still alive.

Eyelids heavy, you tried to open them slowly; bright lights shining down made it next to impossible to see clearly. You attempted to turn your head to the right, just to get a sense of where you were or what was going on. Then you heard him.

“Ahh, I see you’re back among the land of the living. Just in time, too.” Claude’s sharp voice sent a chill through your body. It made you shrink back, but not anywhere near as far as you’d have hoped. A quick tug to your wrists gave you the tinge of clarity you needed. You were strapped down onto some sort of table. At least he’d had some sort of humanity to leave something soft under your head.

You groaned, trying to find some sort of relief and adjust. “Please, I’m begging you, le…”

Claude hummed sarcastically, as through he was enjoying every moment. “Are you?” he drawled, clearly excited. “If you were begging, you’d be on your knees.”

Your eyes cut to him quickly, mouth opening to hurl insults and swears his way when his hand clamped down, muffling you effectively. “Nice try, but you, my dear, are going to listen to what I have to say. You may not enjoy it, but I am quite through with playing nice.” The sinister look that settled upon his face had you recoiling as much as your straps would let you. The way his hand moved to gently caress your cheek made you want to retch, and the loving look that took over his face gave him a psychotic-looking aura.

Claude begins to murmur to himself as he turns away from your immobile form. You can hear metal hitting against metal as he moves items around. “You should have just said yes. No one has ever turned me down.” He turns back to you with some type of syringe in his hands. You see him push the plunger, fluid coming from the rather larger bore needle that sits threateningly atop it.

Shivering at the surprisingly gentle touch he is using, you can tell he’s about to inject you with some unknown substance. Whether it’s poison or narcotics, you cannot afford to be under his spell. Your brain whirs as you try to pull some magic from the reserve you keep closed off, in case of emergencies. It shocks you to find that he hasn’t placed any magical dampeners on wherever you are. If you can just hold on a bit longer, the perfect time will happen and you can bust your way out of here. But for now, you need to keep him occupied and keep that syringe away from your neck.

You cleared your throat, mustering up the strongest voice you can manage in this situation. “This isn’t the way to make anyone love you.”

Claude stops short, taken aback by how unaffected you sound. “Love?” He laughed at that, fondly even, as he looked down at you with heat in his eyes. “My sweet plaything, this isn’t about love.”

“You haven’t forced yourself on me. You haven’t even touched me until now.” You swallowed, forcing yourself to maintain that steadiness. “And even then, it was as though you think I’m made of glass.”

He smiled, utterly sure of himself, “I’m patiently waiting for you to ask nicely.” He leaned down to murmur right into your ear, “And you will ask nicely.” He looked away for a moment - gone was the tenderness. “Him and his damned predictions, trying to turn everyone against me. But now that I have you, all the power lies in my hands.” His muttered rant continued as he stared off into the distance. “He’s been a thorn in my sides for more decades than I care to count. Now that I have the opportunity to take him out? It’s a win-win situation.”

You struggle against your bonds as he comes closer to you with the menacing shot in his hands. He looks you up and down and smiles, creepily, evilly, knowingly. There is something darker, more menacing behind his eyes and you aren’t sure you want to stick around and find out what he’s on about. He gets down in your face, lips dangerously close to yours.

Claude took in a deep breath, nosing down to your ear. “You will love me eventually.” Once his hands make contact with your skin, it flashes through your mind like a highlight reel, all the plans he has for you, the chaos he plans to create where Heechul is concerned. What frightens you the most is that he sees you standing beside him, a lifeless smile plastered across your face while he hurts those you’ve come to know and quite possibly love.

Before his lips can touch yours, a blinding light surges through your body, feeling like a dam has broken and all its water is surging forward with nowhere else to go. You’re hurtling through some unknown space, lights making it so you can’t see. Somewhere deep in the back of your mind, the only image you can see is Claude flying through the air and landing far away. You can tell you are no longer in that sadistic opulent room.

Jagged concrete digging into your palms is the first thing you notice when everything goes still. Dampness begins to encompass your overheated body. Taking in deep breaths as you struggled to sit up, your body sagged and fought for you to be still. “Need...” You rasp as you try to get up again, head swimming. Shaking your head to clear it seems pointless. You manage to crack open one eye and see a city street before you, street lamps dark and fog settling around you. “Got to get ba-”. The sentence doesn’t get completed because as you finally stand to search for the club, you feel yourself falling down, though you don’t land on the harsh concrete. A strong pair of leather-clad arms caught you securely as the darkness welcomed you into its cool embrace.

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Siwon was the first to notice the dark lump on the sidewalk. An unknown force was pulling him towards it, telling him to check it out. Once he caught your scent, he moved in carefully, cautious because something didn’t feel right. He caught you on the second sway, carefully cradling your body close to his, damning his cold nature. “Master!” He cried out.

He didn’t need to yell too loud. Heechul was right on his heels the moment he felt your energy reappear in his area. His eyes searched your face, his sweep surely noting the pallor of your usually tanned skin. You felt drained of blood, of everything. He noticed a few small pin pricks along your carotid and fumed. He saw how your sluggish eyes struggled to open as he took your frail form into his own arms. “Shhhh. It’s me.”

It didn’t register. Not at first. You fought with what little energy remained in your body. He tightened his hold, pulling your head into his chest and squeezing your shaking body gently. “It’s me! Calm down. You’re safe.”

A quick kiss pressed to your forehead, then he teleported you both into his chambers.

Once Heechul had you settled, he began to mentally bark out orders. They were so loud; he wasn’t taking care to direct them. Though you could hear it, your comprehension still drifted in and out, sluggish, the words jumbling, crashing into each other. He sent word for Jongwoon and called for some water. So loud. But then so gently, he clutched your hand with his eyes closed, muttering to himself. His grip tightened. Your lips were moving but he couldn’t hear what you were saying - if you even knew yourself. He lowered his head enough to barely catch your whimpered ‘don’t leave’. His little gasp meant he must’ve heard you.

A feedback loop seemed to have formed between you and him, its switch stuck in the on position. If one of you was supposed to do something about that, it clearly wasn’t going to happen. His skin felt so nice where it touched yours.

The doctor showed up moments after Heechul had reassured you that he wasn’t going anywhere. He sat quietly by your side, thumb running across the back of your knuckles softly. Muting out Jongwoon, he zoned out; more quietly thinking of all the ways he can exact revenge for what happened to you, like a low muttering beneath your own muddled thoughts. Claude was going to pay for taking you right from under his nose. That much, you agreed with. Heechul still couldn’t wrap his head around how it all went down. An elegant plan: create chaos, misdirect attention and extract the real target while the distractions play themselves out.

That bastard didn't care how any of it went because he didn't have to.

He was brought out of his moment when he heard you clear your throat. Turning towards the weakened sound of your voice, his eyes lit up, knowing things were sort of alright. You struggled swallowing, wincing each time. He grabbed the cup from the side table, assisting you to sit up and drink some more.

“You don’t have to say anything right now. Just rest.” Heechul’s words shot out rapidfire, so fast they nearly tripped over each other. Caught off guard by your giggles, his eyes go wide. He’s not used to someone taking him lightly like this. His mouth opens and closes several times, unsure what to say, what to do.

He felt you grip his hand tighter to bring him out of his head. “Heechul, stop trying so hard.” A flush of embarrassment threatens to rush to his face as you continue, the curling in dread of it mirroring itself in your chest, yet not yours. “This is weird, even for you.” The energy you put off hits him like a freight train. You’re still terrified and now he can see it in your eyes, reflected in pulses coming off of him.

Eyes boring into each other, he breaks the silence first. “I can see it in your eyes. The panic. What’s gotten you so scared?”

He watches as your eyes divert to the other side of the room. The frazzled energy you were giving off earlier grows even greater. “Claude got me because of chaos”, you whisper. “Who’s to say he won’t do it again?”

“Look at me.” Heechul’s command leaves no room for argument. His tone sounded firm even though he was still shaken on the inside. “I have an idea, but, you need to rest first.”

He goes to leave, but a quick squeeze to his hand was how you told him you wanted him to stay by your side. Being left alone was the last thing you wanted right now. He slipped off his shoes, removed his suit vest and settled in beside you, hand still clasped firmly with yours.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alyssa, we need to re-do the ritual.” Heechul says matter-of-factly. It’s glaringly obvious that it wasn’t enough last time but he knows he didn’t go all out either. “I know you aren’t up to it right now. And that’s okay.” His last few words were hesitant. The sooner they pull this off, the better protected she’ll be and the better he’ll feel.

He lays beside her, arm draped across her waist as he breathes in the comforting scent that she gives off. She’s awake but not talking. He can feel her processing his words, trying to decide if she’s ready for that level of commitment. He’d had her research sex magic a bit more since their last rendezvous in this same bed. He wanted her to be aware of her options, of what she would be signing up for should any of it be required. Admitting that it was more of a necessity than he'd impressed upon her was... a matter he had thought he would have more time to prepare for.

She sighs deeply. “I’m ready. I don’t ever want to experience that again.” A visible shudder rolls through Alyssa’s body that causes her to grind on him, given their current positions. He bites back a moan, but she feels the catch in his breathing. She arched her back in his hold, ass on his nether regions as she whispers, “Tell me what to do.”

His hands gripped her hips tightly as his lips trail down the cusp of her ear to her jaw line, leaving behind open-mouthed kisses. “This is going to be more intense than last time.” One of his hands slipped away from her hips, fingertips trailing up to her breasts where he kneads the clothed mound gently. “We must connect at a deep level,” he groaned out. “I know just how to achieve that.”

He’d smirked when he said it, but the edifice of his confidence, in truth, felt fragile.

Heechul rolled the two of them so he was laid comfortably on the bed and Alyssa was straddling his hips, her throbbing sex lined up perfectly with his hardening crotch. “The truth is, I... have a predilection for, well-” Embarrassment was a feeling nearly forgotten from how very much time had passed since it had last visited him. This wonder atop him, oh, how she has brought out so much that had long been buried! “I enjoy being moderately restrained,” he whispered at last as he produced a golden, corded rope from under the pillow. She bit her lip and ground down on him, making them both cry out; his groan deep and raspy, hers high and wanton.

She gathered his wrists together, securing them to the post at the head of the bed. She begins to litter kisses down his jaw to his collarbone, paying particular attention to the pulse point that had him shivering. He tried to continue. “The protection will be much more powerful this w-” He visibly swallowed. A nip to his skin had him stuttering while Alyssa continually ground down. “Fuck. Th-this way, our powers will combine better, but yours will be more in control, as will you.” He jerked his hips up to emphasize that last point.

She whined out and caught herself before she could fall completely on him. She found his lips and kissed him passionately. He returned the kiss with just as much fervor, tongue swiping at hers, asking for entrance. As their tongues clashed, her hands roamed to his belt, fighting to get it undone just enough. She paused their makeout session as she gestured for Heechul to lift his hips.

“God, you’re eager.” He moaned as she worked diligently getting his throbbing member free and stripped down herself.

Alyssa smirked back at him. “And you’re not?” Her hands on her hips, eyebrow cocked up as she stared at him. The feedback loop snapped back on, the circuit complete once more, his every thought and feeling hers and the same returning to him. They were completely open to each other, as though they were one person sharing two bodies. He surrendered to it, to being overpowered with her thoughts, her feelings, her very being.

It reverberated through him, She couldn’t deny how turned on she was right now. How she’d never been in control like this, and the power trip she was currently experiencing was otherworldly. The pre-cum dripping from his reddening tip was enticing her. She crawled back up his legs, placing a kiss to the slit, carefully watching him writhe in his bonds. It was exquisite agony. Deciding to play with him a bit, she took his hot length into her mouth, carefully sliding it all the way to the back of her throat.

Heechul convulsed on the spot and pleaded, “Let, let me finish!” She popped off, a trail of saliva still connecting her lips to his member. When she stared at him through the tendrils of hair that covered his face, he wanted to cum right on the spot. “You are in control,” he said, knowing its truth. “This is what we’re focusing on this time.” His wholly unnecessary breaths nonetheless grew rapid; he couldn’t discern what was whose anymore. “You can decide what magic comes through and what doesn’t.” He watches as she wipes her mouth off with the back of her hand and moves to line her entrance up as she takes him into her hands. “It will draw from- your power- hngh!”

He bit his lower lip as she eases down onto him, her velvet walls sucking him in, fitting him like a glove. She moaned out so loudly that he knew someone would hear them, but she felt so good like this, he couldn’t bring himself to care. As she set the pace, her hands found purchase on his chest. She leaned in, kissing him deeply to try and mute herself.

He closed his eyes, allowing their magic to combine in this moment, the very last barrier falling, him alongside it.

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His fingertips traced random patterns along her naked thigh as he watched her slumber deeply, content to allow her this moment of peace. She deserved at least that. From the simple yet intoxicating scent he was breathing in from her to the comfortable weight of her legs entwined with his own, Heechul felt something deep in his soul - something he’d thought to be lost.

He quickly but gently adjusted his hold on her, smirking when she subconsciously fit yourself against him again, like a puzzle piece. From this angle, he noticed the reddening around her wrists had begun to fade. Anger surged to the forefront of his mind. How dare he mark her body like that, like he owned her.

That thought hit him like a freight train.

The idea of someone else having any claim to her was not as foreign of a concept as he initially thought it was when the two of them first met. She was just a side project that would, in time and with some luck, become a full-fledged member of his menagerie. How had she managed to break through every single wall he’d manage to build up in the past few centuries?

He considered all the possibilities until he heard the door creak open. He shifted slightly, pulling more cover over the both of them and closed his eyes to appear asleep. However, that familiar scent gave the intruder away. Heechul heard a gasp once his bartender fully realized what he was seeing. He silently chuckled, opting to send the comical man a telepathic message instead of disturbing Alyssa.

‘Let me find out you breathed any one word of this to any of the brothers.’ He could physically feel the way Shindong gulped, almost seeing the way he was trying to not trip over his own two feet to vacate Heechul’s bedroom. He pulled her closer, heart warming slightly as she relaxed further into his hold. Work had to be done, but... Now was not the time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After helping Alyssa get to the shower and making sure her strength had returned, Heechul contemplated returning to his office. His mind was running rampantly, deconstructing what had happened, how they’d made it through his barriers. So lost in thought, he didn’t even notice how red Shindong had gone in the face when he walked past. Muttering voices hushed as he passed but he paid them no mind.

Safely ensconced in his office, he went to his private stash to pour a stiff drink. Several of the bottles were a personal collection and every bottle had a story behind it. He recalled who was with him when he gained a particular bottle. A special occasion indeed. A small smile stole over his face at the memory of how it was a group effort, but his brothers knew what it meant to him.

A second after he picked up his drink, he put it right back down to pace without having taken a sip. “Of course! My mistake is so obvious now. Trying to topple them by myself is a fool’s errand.” He tried to rest for a moment on a soft chaise lounge at one end of the room, but sprung right back up, shaking his head before going back to pacing. “I must choose my first prospective ally wisely..."

He cleared his throat, taking a large swig of his beverage. “Siwon.” Nothing more needed to be said. The calm, commanding aura of his clan’s leader surged behind him. “It’s time for a meeting. But first, we need to talk.”

Author’s Note: This one took a bit more time that I planned for. Life just wasn’t allowing for creativity for a few days. But no fear because the story is back and still chugging along! Lots of credit still goes to @thesirenandtheking for the immaculate help. Couldn’t do this without you.

#Superjunior #Super Junior #Superjunior fic #Super Junior Heechul #Super Junior Heechul fic #heechul fic #heechul smut #suju fic #supernatural heechul #supernatural kpop fic

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keichanz · 4 years

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Another Day in Hell || Ch. 4

I was gonna post this chapter on Halloween, but between moving into my house, cleaning, moving the last of my crap outta my apartment, and just generally running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to get everything done, I completely forgot about it lol. Better late than never, I suppose.

Read on AO3. Ch. 1 || Ch. 2 || Ch. 3 || Ch. 4

And with that, Inuyasha strapped his black bladed combat knife to his hip and retrieved Tessaiga from its designated resting place on the wall, tying it with practiced ease at his opposite hip.

“Training won’t start right away for a number of reasons,” he said, reaching onto the top shelf of the bookcase and bringing down the shotgun. “The first being your shoulder, so for now I just want you to rest and concentrate on getting better. We’ll work out the details after you meet everyone and get settled at the dojo.”

Kagome nodded as he slung the firearm over his shoulder so it hung across his back. Her eyes followed him as he picked up some trash bags propped against the wall and when he started for the door in the ceiling that opened into the back room of the store, Kagome’s blood turned to ice and the color drained from her face. Oh, god—was he going somewhere?

“I gotta take this trash and dump it in the pit,” Inuyasha announced, confirming her fears as he reached up and shoved the door open with a grunt. “If I don’t the basemen will start to reek, you and I both don’t want that, and I can’t leave it outside the store either. The stench will attract unwanted attention from both undead and demons sniffing around for a place to take over, and I wanna avoid that if possible.”

A distressed sound echoed in her throat as Kagome hastily stood up as Inuyasha tossed one bag then the other up and out the door.

“I won’t be long,” he continued as she stumbled over to him as fast as her weakened body would allow. “Just fifteen minutes or so, twenty tops. Stay here and—”

“No!”

Small hands latched onto his shirt and Inuyasha stumbled back in surprise, looking down to find Kagome holding onto him for dear life and he was alarmed to find genuine fear in those dark eyes of hers.

He frowned. “What—”

“Don’t go, please,” she begged him, her grip so tight on his shirt her knuckles were white.

Inuyasha sighed and shook his head. “I have to take this trash out, Kagome. My nose is a little more sensitive than yours and—”

“Then take me with you,” she urgently beseeched, her voice holding a desperate edge that gave him pause. Pleading brown locked onto thoughtful amber and she swallowed thickly. “Please, Inuyasha, don’t leave me here.”

His frown deepened and his stomach clenched uncomfortably when he detected a trace amount of fear underlining her scent. What the hell?

“I can’t, Kagome. Not with your shoulder like that. You won’t be able to hang on, and I’ll only be on a few minutes—”

“Please.” Kagome looked on the verge of tears and he stiffened. “Please, Inuyasha, even if it is only for a few minutes, I can’t...I can’t be alone again. Don’t leave me alone, please.”

Her grip tightened on his shirt, her bottom lip trembled, and Inuyasha’s resolved broke. Fuck.

Heaving a sigh and thrusting a hand through his short hair, Inuyasha’s features twisted into a light scowl, not entirely happy about this, but figuring he had no choice. Obviously there was some mental scars that she’d hidden well until this point and he’d feel like a colossal asshole if he left Kagome like this when she obviously didn’t want to be alone for any amount of time, even going so far as to beg him to take her with him. So he’d just have to make some slight adjustments is all and be extra vigilant.

Damn those big brown eyes and full pink lips.

“Fine,” he grumbled, his disapproval evident in the scowl he directed at her, but she was unaffected, face brightening into a pleased smile. “You can come with me but you have to listen and do exactly as I say, alright? Do not question me. If I say run, you fucking run. If I say grab my gun and shoot, pull the trigger and shoot. Understand?”

Nodding eagerly and trying not to think about what could happen if he told her to do any of that, Kagome beamed at him, relieved that he’d agreed and she wouldn’t be left alone. Perhaps it was ridiculous, especially when he’d said he’d only be gone for about fifteen minutes, but Kagome didn’t think she could take the solitude for even that short amount of time. She truly hoped she’d be able to get over this unfounded fear of being alone fairly quickly, and with Inuyasha’s help, along with his friends, Kagome was confident she would.

“I will,” she told him, dark eyes earnest as she gazed up into his stern face. “I promise. Thank you, Inuyasha. I just...” She sighed. “Thanks.”

Whiskey colored eyes studied her quietly, searching, calculating, and he gave a curt nod.

“Wait here.”

Her eyes widened and before she could object, he said, “I’m just going up to put the bags outside, get the four-wheeler ready, and get rid of any roamers that are too close. Five minutes, Kagome. I’ll be quick.”

Kagome bit her lip, clearly hesitant, but she nodded and released him, stepping back.

Nodding, Inuyasha didn’t spare her another glance before bending his knees and launching himself up and out of the basement.

Already Kagome could feel the silence pressing in on her, the cold seeping into her bones and to distract herself she searched for something to secure her arm and keep it stabilized. If they were going to be riding on a four-wheeler, no doubt it was going to be bumpy and she was going to need her other hand to hold onto something so she didn’t fall. She didn’t think Inuyasha would let her, but she didn’t want to seem completely helpless.

Wrinkling her nose, Kagome dug around in his box of clothes and pulled out an old button down flannel that would have to do. She sat down and had just managed to fashion the shirt into a homemade sling when Inuyasha returned as promised.

He raised his brows in surprise when he saw what she was doing then nodded his approval, walking over and helping her situate her arm. He tightened the knot, made sure her arm was tight against her side, and studied his handiwork.

“Good thinking,” he praised and his face softened at her proud smile. “You ready?”

“Wait.” Digging around in her jean’s pocket, Kagome withdrew a hairband and using only one hand, she tried to gather her hair and pull it up into a haphazard ponytail. “I don’t want it flying in my face and hindering my sight.”

Inuyasha watched, slightly amused, as she tried and failed to gather up her mass of thick raven hair to secure it together before finally taking pity with a sigh and moving behind her.

“Give it here,” he mumbled, batting her hand away and wiggling his fingers for the band. Sheepishly and with a grumble she handed it over and he slipped it around his wrist before combing his claws through her hair in an attempt to get some of the tangles out.

Kagome figured he’d just shove it all up into a ponytail liked she’d originally planned, so when she felt him divide it into sections and begin to plait it, she blinked in surprise and couldn’t stop the pleased smile from curling her lips upward.

“I didn’t peg you for someone who knew how to braid,” she said, only half-teasingly.

“Used to have long hair,” Inuyasha grunted, eyes focused on his task. “Before it all went down. While I wasn’t an instructor at S and S, occasionally I gave demonstrations for the lessons and I learned to braid to keep it out of my face. Then shit hit the fan and it was just easier to chop it all off then to continue braiding it.”

Kagome made a sound of acknowledgement as he took the band around his wrist and twisted it around the end of the thick braid he’d created. It definitely wasn’t the best since he was a little out of practice, but it would hold together and that’s what mattered, he supposed. Especially since she was going to be in front of him and not behind him on the AVT. He didn’t want her hair in his face and impeding his own sight.

“There,” he rumbled and gave her hair a soft tug. “You’re all set. Ready to go?”

Running her hand down the length of her new braid, Kagome beamed at him over her shoulder and nodded.

“Ready.”

He led her over to the door and wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her in front of him. Inuyasha glared down at her, eyes drilling into her own.

“Exactly. As. I. Say. Capeesh?”

Kagome rolled her eyes but nodded. “Yes, Inuyasha, I will do exactly as you say. I promise.”

Grumbling under his breath, and hoping he wasn’t making a grave mistake, Inuyasha tightened his hold around her and launched them both up into the storage room, ignoring her squeak of surprise and the way her arm snapped around his neck. He landed softly on his feet, released her, and gestured her to follow with a jerk of his head before heading toward the loading docks.

Kagome dutifully followed behind, quickening her steps to catch up to him and for the first time noticing the dried blood that stained the concrete floor. She blanched and forced her eyes up, landing on Inuyasha’s board back in front of her. She was going to have to get used to that, she realized; all the blood and other unpleasantness that accompanied death.

Kagome valiantly hoped she’d be able to stomach it.

Inuyasha was waiting for her at a metal door beside the closed truck bay doors and Kagome frowned when she reached them.

“Wait, if this place has a back door, why do you need the one on the roof?”

“The roof door is plan B if this exit gets compromised,” Inuyasha answered lowly, cracking open the door and peering outside. He’d checked beforehand, but it was always better to err on the side of caution. “Also some of the others are human and can’t jump like me, so this is their primary entrance and exit. I just use the roof door because it’s faster and easier.”

She blinked. “Oh.” Well, that made sense.

“It’s clear,” he rumbled and shot a look at her over his shoulder. “ATV’s just outside. You good?”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Kagome nodded and took a step closer, trying to calm her nerves. Perhaps it would have been a better idea if she’d stayed behind...

Easily sensing her distress, Inuyasha frowned and hedged, “If you wanna head back...”

Kagome closed her eyes, deliberated, and shook her head. “No,” she mumbled. “No, I—I’m okay. Let’s go.”

He still looked like he didn’t believe her, but thankfully didn’t make her go back, so Kagome counted it as a small victory. She waited for him to open the door, but when he continued to stand there and frown at her, Kagome raised her brows in wordless inquiry.

Inuyasha sighed, made a face, and thrust a hand through his short hair. “One more thing.”

Kagome resisted the urge to groan, however she did roll her eyes. “Inuyasha—”

“Just shut up and listen. I wouldn’t say anything if it wasn’t important.”

Rolling her eyes again, Kagome gestured for him to continue with a wave of her hand and went to cross her arms, belatedly remembered she couldn’t, so settled for propping her hand on her hips as she waited for him to say whatever he thought was important.

“Look, since the world has gone to shit, who you are, your identity, is pretty much the only thing you have left that you can really call yours anymore,” Inuyasha began, not bothering to beat around the bush. “It’s extremely important that you protect it at all times when you’re not around those you trust.”

Kagome’s brow furrowed. “Who can’t I trust?”

Even as she said it, Kagome wanted to kick herself. She’d already made the stupid mistake to trust somebody right off the bat and ended up with a freaking bullet in her shoulder. So basically, trust no one but Inuyasha.

“Anyone that’s not me or the others,” Inuyasha replied, confirming her thoughts. “I know you haven’t met them, but I can vouch for them. It’s dangerous out there, Kagome, and I’m not just talking about the undead. Just because you don’t see anything doesn’t mean it’s safe; demons are excellent at concealing their presence and like to eavesdrop. I’ve also run into a few murder-happy whackjobs that masquerade as a deadie to get close before springing a surprise attack you aren’t expecting coming from something that’s not supposed to have any higher brain function.”

Kagome’s mouth dropped in astonishment and he grinned wryly.

“Yeah. I know. So you have to constantly be on your guard, because if someone knows who you are, who you really are, they will take everything you hold dear to you and use it against you. Family, friends, a lover—anything they can think of.”

She could feel the color draining out of her face as her eyes went very wide. “B-but...my family...I don’t even know—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Inuyasha cut her off, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “Evil things have resources we don’t. They aren’t afraid to play dirty to get what they want, use tricks, blackmail, and bribery to obtain otherwise unknown information. Never underestimate your enemy because it could mean your death.”

Kagome gasped and Inuyasha grimaced, but he didn’t take it back. “I don’t mean to scare you,” he rumbled, lifting his hand to rub her arm soothingly. “I just wanna prepare you. Do you understand? Why you can’t reveal your name or who you are?”

Swallowing the sudden lump in her throat that was making it a tad harder to breath, Kagome nodded.

Inuyasha didn’t like how pale she looked, but continued anyway.

“Alright. One more thing: when we’re out there, you can’t call me Inuyasha. I’m Ash outside these walls. Likewise I won’t call you Kagome, and I don’t have a name for you yet, but it doesn’t matter right now. Everyone at the dojo has an alias too, and we use them while radioing as well. The channels aren’t secure and anyone could be listening in so better to be safe than sorry.”

Inuyasha gave her a minute to digest everything and watched her face carefully, really hoping that it wouldn’t dissuade her from wanting to come back with him and learn how to protect herself. Probably he could have gone a little lighter on some of the details, but he needed her to understand the importance of what he was saying, stressing that a slip of the tongue could mean life or death.

And maybe he should have been alarmed that it hadn’t even been a full twenty-four hours and she was already growing on him, but he didn’t allow himself to dwell on that for long. Kagome was still staring up at him with wide cinnamon eyes, clearly trying to come to terms with this new information, and he opened his mouth to tell her that maybe it wouldn’t be a good idea for her to go with him after all if she was still shaken.

But then she blinked, took a deep breath, and her expression cleared before she gave a curt nod.

“Okay,” she breathed, locking gazes with him. “Yes. I understand. I’ll...be careful, be on my guard and vigilant. Trust no one but you and your friends. Assume nowhere is safe. I got it.”

Relaxing slightly, relieved she was taking this seriously, Inuyasha asked, “What’s my name?”

Her lips twitched. “Ash.”

Finally he allowed a small grin to surface and he nodded in approval. “Good. I don’t think you’ll have to use it since you won’t be out of my sight, but again, better to be safe.”

Kagome nodded and giving her shoulder a squeeze, Inuyasha finally opened the door the rest of the way and gestured for her to go first. Kagome slipped outside and he followed, closing it softly behind him. He walked over to a dirty forest-green four-wheeler just a few paces away with a small utility trailer attached behind it holding the trash bags.

“You’ll be sitting in front of me,” he told her, eyeing a few scattered roamers that were too far away to notice them. “I don’t like that you only have one hand to hold on, so being in front will—what?”

Frozen to the spot just before the door, Kagome wasn’t looking at him but somewhere in the distance, her pale face stricken and dark eyes wide. He followed her gaze and cursed. She’d noticed them too, the undead wandering aimlessly around, unaware of them – for now – and he hoped it stayed that way.

Walking back over to her, Inuyasha put himself in front of her, blocking her view of them, and took her shoulders in his hands. Kagome started, gasping as her gaze flew up to his, and he frowned at her pale face and wide eyes.

“Don’t look at them,” he murmured and gently guided her over to the four-wheeler. “Don’t pay them any attention. They haven’t noticed us yet, and even if they do, they’re far enough away where we can easily outrun them. They’re slow as hell and we have a four-wheeler and guns. I’ll keep you safe. I promise. Just trust me, alright?”

Willing her heartbeat to calm and her trembling to stop, Kagome closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, her good hand fisting in his shirt. Inuyasha kept an eye on the undead until she regained her composure and was glad when just a few seconds later she relaxed and released a shaky sigh.

“Okay,” she breathed, nodding once. “Okay. I’m sorry, I just—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, shaking his head. “I get it. Now c’mon, before they see us. You first. I’ll sit behind you to keep you from falling, and it’ll make me feel a little better because I can see you, besides.”

Something warm bloomed in Kagome’s chest at that and she hid her smile by quickly turning and climbing aboard the ATV, swinging her leg over and settling in the cracked leather seat. Inuyasha swung up behind her and she blushed at having him so close, his chest pressing against her back, and she tried to regulate her breathing so she didn’t have to answer any awkward questions. She succeeded for the most part and now only had to worry about her red face.

“Good?” he rumbled in her ear, trying very hard to ignore how nice it felt to have her pressed against his chest, his thighs cradling her small form and her scent in his nose.

“Yes,” Kagome squeaked and satisfied, he leaned forward, turned the key, and shifted into drive.

“Hang on,” he growled and eased up on the throttle, feeling Kagome tense against him and her hand fist in his jeans as they took off.

Keeping half of his attention on where they were going so he didn’t end up running over something dead and end up showering both in blood and guts, Inuyasha kept the other half of his attention trained on the woman in front of him. Pressed so closely against him, he could feel how tense she was and a quick glance at the small hand fisted tightly in his jeans at his thigh revealed a white knuckled grip. Unsurprisingly the bitter smell of fear stung his nose, but it was a trace amount, a minor footnote in the natural pleasantness of her scent that he’d already become accustomed to. It was clear she hadn’t bathed in a while – in all truthfulness neither had he – but it did absolutely nothing to take away from pleasing aroma teasing his nose, and anyway Inuyasha always preferred a woman’s natural scent rather than that perfume shit.

Inuyasha blinked and shook his head when he realized where his thoughts were straying. Preferred? He didn’t prefer anything, and sure, Kagome smelled nice, and yeah, maybe her scent was ten times better to take in than the stench of decay and death, but it didn’t mean anything. And fine, she was attractive. So what? He was a healthy adult male with a pair of working eyes; of course he’d noticed her slim figure, her perfect legs, shapely hips, and decent rack. He’d have to be blind to not see how damned beautiful she was with big brown eyes that reflected her soul, luscious raven hair that was a stark contrast to the pale smoothness of her skin, and full, pink lips that he just knew would be soft against his own—

Inuyasha cursed and jerked the handles hard to avoid mowing over a deadie that had wandered into his path. Kagome emitted a soft cry of alarm and shoved herself back hard against him and abruptly he decided that that was enough thinking for the day. Because clearly thinking was dangerous when he was around a certain dark-haired woman and so forcing himself to focus on the task at hand so he didn’t make the same mistake twice – Kagome was already a nervous wreck; she didn’t need him killing them by way of ATV accident – Inuyasha muttered an apology and stole a quick look at her to see how she was faring.

White as a ghost and clutching his wrist now instead of his jeans, Kagome’s concentration was centered on the roamers that they passed as he maneuvered through them, anxiously darting amongst them as she bit down hard on her lip. It was clear she didn’t like being so close to them, but it couldn’t be helped; this was the fastest way to the pit, and he couldn’t take the street because that’s where most of them congregated.

Inuyasha hated to admit that the more time passed, the smarter the damned things seemed to get. They learned, they adapted, and more and more Inuyasha found that he had to use wit to fight his way through rather than brute strength alone. It was astounding, especially since they were nothing more than a rotting meat suit of never ending hunger, but it was apparent they retained enough of their previous cognitive functions to understand roads were a good source of flesh.

It was bizarre and absolutely fucking terrifying, if Inuyasha were being honest.

Kagome emitted a stifled whimper when he dodged yet another roamer and Inuyasha resolved to distract her with the first thing that came to his mind.

“What do you know about ‘em?” he asked, bending his head to be heard over the wind in their ears.

Kagome started at suddenly having his voice in her ear and she turned her head to shoot him a wide-eyed glance of confusion.

“T-them?” she squeaked.

He jerked his head, gesturing to the roamers that reached out to them as they whizzed by. He hadn’t failed to notice either that more were trailing behind them, attracted to the noise of the AVT. That noise meant food and once again Inuyasha cursed the fucking rotters.

Kagome blinked at the question but thankfully it seemed to do the trick, her brow furrowing as she gathered her thoughts. She hadn’t noticed the increasing group stumbling after them yet and Inuyasha was grateful for that. They wouldn’t have time to catch up to them anyway, so at the moment, they didn’t warrant his concern.

“Just that they’re freakishly strong and they can smell us. Or our blood, or something,” Kagome answered.

Inuyasha nodded, unsurprised. That was about the extent of what he knew when everything went south.

“They won’t die unless you get ‘em in the head,” he tacked on as the pit came into view ahead. “Kill the brain, kill the zombie. They don’t get winded or tired, but they’re slow. Noise attracts them; screaming, gunfire, explosives, things like that. For some fucking reason they have hearing as well as any demon’s so even the sound of someone running will grab their attention. They’re drawn to warmth, so if you’re out of options, set something on fire and fucking run. They can’t climb as far as I know, so anywhere up high is a safe bet. If there’s a ladder, knock it down.”

Though looking slightly ill, Kagome nodded and he knew she’d remember everything. He smiled grimly. He wished he could spare her all of this, but the truth of the matter was, it was unavoidable if she wanted to survive.

And Inuyasha really wanted her to survive.

“We’re here,” Inuyasha rumbled in her ear and Kagome looked ahead to find they were entering what looked to be a construction site.

Abandoned utility vehicles, bulldozers, and a large pile of steel beams were some of the things Kagome spotted as Inuyasha maneuvered the four-wheeler toward a sizeable dip in the ground. Kagome suspected some sort of building or large structure had been in the making when the end of the world came about and unsurprisingly, just like literally everywhere else, bodies littered the ground, old blood staining the dirt and the smell was enough to make Kagome gag.

Hastily she covered her mouth and held her breath while Inuyasha merely clenched his jaw and tried very hard not to breathe it in.

“We won’t be here long,” he told her through gritted teeth, ears flicking forward when familiar groaning sounds floated up to him. “Try and bare it—ah, fuck.”

Kagome felt the bottom drop out of her stomach as her eyes widened and her blood turned to ice.

Fuck, indeed.

Somebody had very recently dumped numerous dead bodies into the large hollow and a number of undead were feasting on them.

“Shit,” Inuyasha swore again and he could feel Kagome start to tremble as several of them noticed the arrival of fresh meat and warm blood. They started stumbling toward them up the slight incline and once more Inuyasha swore colorfully under his breath.

“In—Ash,” she whimpered, head whipping around as more roamers encroached. Oh god, they were everywhere!

Heaving a sigh – dammit, this was supposed to a simple trash dump with no incident – Inuyasha wordlessly climbed off behind her and intercepted Kagome’s panicked look with a reassuring one of his own.

“Calm down,” he murmured and slid the combat knife out of its sheath. “Nothing I can’t handle. Here.” He took her hand and slid the handle into her hand. “You won’t need it, but just in case. In the head. Hard.”

Automatically Kagome wrapped her fingers around the weapon but her gaze remained on him, her eyes impossibly wide and the fear a hard knot that was slowly working its way up into her throat, suffocating her.

“B-but—Ash—please—”

Grimacing, Inuyasha forced himself to turn away and slid Tessaiga from its scabbard in one fluid movement. The blade transformed in a brilliant flash of light and then with nary a word he slid down the incline and neatly hacked off the heads of the deadies coming toward him.

With a death grip on the knife in her hand, Kagome watched in a sort of morbid fascination as Inuyasha sliced and diced, cleaving through rotting bodies and spilling rancid blood. He was calm, not an ounce of fear or distress as he almost casually strolled around and stabbed a few more in the head, silencing grating moans.

In what seemed like no time at all he was climbing back out, his sword dripping blood but miraculously not even a single drop stained his clothes or skin.

Okay. Kagome could admit: she was impressed.

Flicking the blood off, Inuyasha dropped Tessaiga back into its scabbard and strolled by to grab the trash bags in the trailer. Kagome gawked at him, wondering how he could be so nonchalant about the whole thing. Didn’t he realize how unreal that was? How amazing he was? There must have been at least ten of them and he’d dispatched every one without batting an eye!

Inuyasha tossed in the garbage, turned around, and gave Kagome a cursory glance before shifting his gaze behind her to the dead figures that were getting closer with every second. Making up his mind, he started toward them, ignoring Kagome’s alarmed cry of his name. Using his speed to his advantage, he zipped between each one and drew his claws through decaying flesh, hacking off heads and outright tearing some of them off when a few managed to catch him off guard.

The whole thing lasted only about a minute and he was dismayed to realize he hadn’t gotten away from staining his clothes that time. He scowled down at the dots of dark red on his jeans before snatching up a random head that was still clicking its jaws at him and wandered back over to Kagome.

She looked absolutely horrified as he stopped beside her and tossed the head onto the ground.

“C’mere,” he said, waving his hand and gesturing her over.

Kagome turned her wide-eyed gaze to him. “Why? What are you gonna do with that?”

He rolled his eyes. “Just get over here already.”

She hesitated, biting her lip as she stared between the moaning head – gross – and him as she deliberated on whether or not to do as he said but then finally gave in with a grimace when Inuyasha pegged her with an impatient glare. Mindful of her arm, she scooted off the four-wheeler and shuffled over to him, looking very uncertain and casting nervous glances at the head as if it would suddenly grow legs and leap at her.

When she reached him, Inuyasha crossed his arms and nodded to the lump of flesh on the ground.

“Kill it.”

Her mouth dropped. “W-what?” she squeaked, aghast.

Inuyasha returned her incredulous stare with an unwavering one of his own. “I want you to get a feel for the kind of force that’s needed to penetrate through the skull to get to the brain. Use the knife and stab it as hard as you can.”

Fervently Kagome began shaking her head. “A-Ash, no, I can’t—”

“You can,” Inuyasha interrupted firmly, “and you will. Would you rather I get one with the body still attached? I can assure you it won’t be nearly as easy.”

She blanched at the thought.

“No,” she grumbled, wrinkling her nose.

“Then c’mon,” he urged and jerked his head toward the dead eyes and snapping jaws on the ground. “You said you wanted to learn. Back it up and show me.”

Kagome shot him a look but when all he did was raise his eyebrows at her, she sighed and begrudgingly knelt down beside it.

Five feet away.

“Ya gotta get closer than that, babe,” Inuyasha drawled and Kagome huffed before slowly inching her way closer, knife clutched in her shaking hand. She eyed the head, grimacing at the blood that oozed from the neck and the loose flaps of skin that hung off the face, revealing the torn muscle beneath.

Inuyasha caught a glimpse of her face and grinned. “Yeah, it ain’t pretty,” he agreed. “But it’s harmless. Just stay clear of the mouth and you’re good. Try to get it in one; multiple stabs tend to get messy.”

“I’m gonna be sick,” Kagome whimpered but nonetheless poised the business end of the knife above it. Teeth clicked and snapped, gurgled sounds emitting from the mangled throat that Kagome tried very hard to ignore.

“Get a good grip,” her half-demon teacher instructed, voice low. “Don’t want your hand slipping and getting close to the mouth.”

Kagome tightened her hand and swallowed thickly before taking a deep, bracing breath. She could do this. She could do this.

Face screwing up in determination, Kagome grit her teeth, raised her hand, and jabbed viciously down.

The knife went about halfway into the right side of forehead and blood welled up around the ebony blade. But it must not have been deep or hard enough because it was still making those awful gurgling sounds and with a low moan, Kagome jerked to the side and threw up the Poptart she’d had for breakfast.

She felt something warm land on her back, rubbing up and down, and her face burned with shame. God, she was so pathetic. How did she ever think she could do this? She was weak, a failure, surely Inuyasha didn’t want to waste his time on someone so pathetic—

“It was a good first try,” he told her and reached out with his free hand to jerk the knife free. “A little harder and you would have had it. You okay to try again? We can call it a day and try again tomorrow if you want. We got time to kill.”

Spitting a few times and using her shirt to wipe her mouth, Kagome sat back and turned wide eyes his way, a little stunned with how patient he was being. He didn’t sound or even look disappointed, amber eyes regarding her steadily without a hint of judgment.

“Why are you so...understanding?” she asked, shaking her head. “I thought you’d be...I don’t know, annoyed, or something, because I’m...well, weak.”

Inuyasha sighed. “Everyone has to start somewhere, K—uh, kitten,” he said, coming up with the name on the fly and finding he sort of liked it. “You think I was as good as I am now right off the bat?” He snorted. “Hell no. I didn’t have anybody to teach me when shit hit the fan so I had to teach myself through trial and error how to kill these assholes. But I learned from my mistakes, got stronger, and yeah it was hard at first, but when you’re fighting for your life, you get over it quickly.

“It’s only the first day,” he told her, grabbing her braid and giving it a gentle tug. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ll get there, I promise. After all, you have me showing you the ropes. It’s a guaranteed success.”

He grinned arrogantly at her and Kagome let loose a watery laugh. His words actually did make her feel a little better. He was right; of course she’d fumble and make mistakes during the first try. She had literally zero experience, but now she had a general idea of how hard she had to jab down, so perhaps she was jumping the gun a bit.

She wasn’t weak. She could do this.

She will.

Offering a genuine smile and straightening her back, Kagome nodded and steeled herself.

“Again.”

With a smirk, Inuyasha handed over the knife and watched with no small amount of pride as Kagome sucked in a breath, poised the knife once more above the head, and drove the entire blade home.

He was surprised, but happy to oblige when she requested she get the other gurgling heads and one by one Kagome silenced the bleeding craniums. With each one it became easier and easier until, by head number twelve, there was zero hesitation as she raised the blade and drove it into the temple in one smooth jab.

Even the puddle of blood she was kneeling in wasn’t enough to stop the proud grin from spreading across her face, brown eyes bright and exuberant as she gazed up at a smirking Inuyasha standing next to her, arms crossed and the approval evident on his face.

Kagome was covered in blood, her left shoulder and arm were screaming at her, and her right arm was sore from overuse, but she didn’t care about any of that as Inuyasha drove them back to the store. Unpredictably deadies chased after them with their slow stumble but that didn’t bother her either now that she knew she had what it took. There was a new confidence instilled in her, a hidden reserve a strength Kagome wasn’t even aware she had, and it was all thanks for the half-demon pressed against her back, strong arms bracketing her body, keeping her safe, and didn’t that give her all the warm and fuzzies.

Inuyasha parked by the back door and after Kagome climbed off, he moved the AVT into a hidden alcove she hadn’t noticed before. Obscured by a large green dumpster and gray tarp that had several holes in it, at first glance it looked like just a heap of garbage from all the trash bags around it and Kagome had to admit it was rather clever. She waited for him at the door and together they headed inside.

Kagome was still on cloud nine as they descended into the basement, unable to wipe the smile off of her face. Inuyasha merely shook his head and rooted around in his box of clothes for something for her to wear since her jeans were ruined. He found a pair of jersey shorts, shrugged, and tossed them at her, saying something about heading back up to check if anything had happened in their absence to give her privacy to change.

Inuyasha disappeared and as fast as she could considering she only had one arm, she peeled herself out of her ruined jeans with some difficulty and muttered a curse as her shoulder protested. She was tying the drawstring of the shorts into a knot when Inuyasha returned and sitting on the bed, she watched him shrug off the shotgun on his back and put it back onto the shelf before setting both blades, his sword and the knife, onto the table to be cleaned.

The rest of the day was blessedly free of anymore zombie stabbing, much to Kagome’s relief, and the two passed the time in a mixture of idle chatter, Kagome’s endless questions about his friends, Inuyasha’s exasperated replies, and several demonstrations on how to take apart, clean, and load the Glock. Inuyasha managed to convince Kagome to stay behind when he left to do a quick perimeter check, but only after promising her that he’d only be gone for ten minutes and would come straight back. She was an anxious mess, but when he returned eight minutes later, the brilliant and relieved smile she gave him had the sarcastic retort on his lips instantly dying.

When Kagome went to bed that night, lying on her side and drowsily watching Inuyasha doze comfortably in the recliner not too far from her, she randomly remembered what the half-demon had called her earlier that day and she smiled.

Her last thought before drifting off to sleep was, Kitten, huh...?

Fun fact: For those of you who are fans of The Walking Dead or watch the show, I swear to you that I wrote this chapter weeks before I saw the episode in season 9 when the Whisperers are introduced 😂 Honest to God I had no idea the Skins/Whisperers were an actual thing when I wrote about the part where Inuyasha is explaining to Kagome about the people who disguise themselves as zombies and attack people lmao

Ch. 5

but me a coffee? :)

#another day in hell #ch 4 #inuyasha #kagome #inukag #keizfanfiction #fanfiction #zombie apocolypse au

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bubmyg · 5 years

Text

happily glazed - pjm

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: friends to lovers, slice of life, non idol!au, fluff, like the cheesiest fluff

word count: 3,388

summary: there’s no way you’re being Jimin’s fake date to his cousin’s wedding no matter how much he begs on his front porch in a snow storm or just be my actual boyfriend and yes this is me asking you out and no I don’t care if this isn’t how this works.

a/n: part 3 of “to lovers”!! the rest of the series can be found on my masterlist :’-)

In your years of being tethered to Park Jimin at the hip, he’d only initiated a code red emergency text message three times. Once was in high school, when he’d left his lights on the entire day and needed a jump before, in his words, he froze solid in the place you once spilled an entire strawberry milkshake and left a giant pink stain that didn’t come out of the upholstery or his favorite white hoodie.

The second time was in college, when he’d allowed Hoseok to drag him to the bars on his twenty-first and found himself “lost” with a girl he’d never seen before attached to his arm. He wasn’t lost, you’d just taken him a different route to his dorm than normal, and it was you attached to his arm, or rather his arm attached to you, as you tried to keep him upright while he fumbled his phone in his palms and quirked an eyebrow at you when the notification went off in your back pocket.

The third time was in the beginning stages of the worst snowstorm the city had seen in fifty years, the ground dusted in a ghost like layer of glistening precipitation, roads rippling in puddles of salt stained melt and black ice, minutes after you’d toed off your boots in the doorway of your apartment, regained feeling in your limbs and appendages, and pulled out your phone to text Jimin if he’d arrived back at his place safely after dropping you off not thirty minutes before.

code red, CODE RED, Code Red, c o d e r e d, please come to my apartment asap

But please drive safely the roads are pretty covered :-(

You rolled through the stop sign in front of the convenience store adjacent to Jimin’s building, letting the force of the slick roads propel you into a parallel parking space on the end of the road. The downy fabric on your scarf stuck to your tongue as you penguin shuffled across the street, taking the mounds of snow on the stairs two at a time, gloveless knuckles rising to rap on his door. They never quite got there, the door retching open and nearly sending you hurdling the short distance into the threshold with the slick last step you took.

The first time Jimin declared code red, he’d offered you a tight lipped, embarrassed smile, rambling about the calculus assignment you had due the following day rather than expressing the churning of his stomach. He’d wrapped an arm around your waist in departure, kissing your cheek and giddly apologizing from within the window he rolled down, nearly squashing your toes with his front tire with the speed he reversed out of the parking lot.

The second time he’d cried, stature heavy against your side as he leaned into you for support, boot clad feet narrowly avoiding your toes each block you took. You weren’t sure what he was crying about but it was different from when he’d buried his face in your thighs after his first college exam or when he’d strained his hamstring mid dance recital, more heartbreaking almost with the pink hue that shaded his cheeks. You’d dabbed at his skin with gentle fingertips until his sniffling subsided and he fell asleep half hanging off the edge of his lofted bed.

He wasn’t mortified or miserable the third time, just slightly on edge, borderline mischievous, and holding an open box of a dozen glazed donuts.

“Don’t be falling head over heels for my proposition yet, you haven’t even heard it,” Jimin teased, stepping out of your way.

“You did not risk me being snowed in for some donuts, did you?”

The box crinkled where he placed it on the tiny table next to the front door, fingers threading in the untucked edges of your scarf to tug you closer. Plump lips pursed as he worked at the material, drawing it away from your neck fold it neatly around his knuckles, deft fingers instead tugging on the metal zipper on the front of your jacket.

“You were careful?” He affirmed, glancing at you through thick eyelashes. A smile burst across his mouth again when he was successful in pulling apart your jacket, gently pushing at your shoulders to shrug it off your torso.

You huffed, discarding your jacket into Jimin’s grasp, only for him to carelessly toss the winter items somewhere near an armchair in his living room. You sighed, “It’s slick out but it’s not that bad.”

“Good,” He took your wrist, tugging you after where he’d thrown your items, “You’re staying here, anyway.”

“But—”

“No buts, you know how guilty I’d feel?” Jimin cupped gentle palms over your shoulders, pushing you toward the couch, “Sit. Do you want tea or hot chocolate?”

“Hot chocolate,” You told the sway in his stature that already knew the answer, taking a delicate seat on the dingy leather, “Why didn’t you just bring me here in the first place?”

“Because—” There was some clattering in the kitchen and then his fluffy blonde locks were popping around the doorframe, “—mom called me when I got home.”

You froze, watching Jimin with wide eyes as he pressed a warm mug into your awaiting hands, taking a seat next to you. “What now?” You took a generous sip of the scalding liquid, unaffected by the loss of at least three taste buds, “Another guilt trip to get you to move back home?”

He snorted, splashing the liquid around the rim against his cheeks in the process. “No, actually,” He brushed at the chocolate on his face with his wrist, placing the mug down on the table in front of you, “One of my cousins is getting married this weekend.”

Your nose wrinkled behind the rim of your mug, “This weekend as in Valentine’s Day this weekend?”

“Aside from the ridiculous timing of their special day—” The leather wrinkled underneath him as he turned, facing you, placing a hand on your shoulder, “—I need a date.”

You ignored your conscious’ question as to whether you could hear a hammering pulse through the touch of a shoulder, instead hiding your choke in a giant gulp of liquid chocolate. “Okay?” You down played, avoiding his gaze in favor of the darker browns that swirled into light at the top of your mug, “Don’t you have an app that summons people for that kind of thing?”

“Most Tinder dates aren’t looking to go to weddings of complete strangers, no,” Jimin jabbed at your side with his index, “Do you ever go outside?”

You leaned past him to place your mug down next to his, daring the heat tinging the tips of your ears to face him with as much of a deadpan expression as you could muster, “So what does this have to do with me?”

He was beaming again, all crescent eyelids and squished cheeks, “I think you know.”

“I’m not being your fake date to your random cousin’s wedding so that your mom doesn’t ask you a thousand and one questions about what’s keeping you here so you don’t feel obligated to move back home if that’s what you mean by me knowing.”

“But you’re the perfect candidate,” Jimin was whining now, voice trilling up an octave at the end of syllables, cheeks dusted the same soft pink that rounded his ears, bottom lip wrinkled and pushed past his top, “Mom already thinks we’re dating. Everyone already thinks we’re dating. You live here. You’re, in a way, what is actually keeping me here—” He leaned closer and you leaned away, particularly when he wiggled his eyebrows, “—you just have to let me kiss you a little for one night.”

You can kiss me whenever you like, it doesn’t have to be at a wedding in which I’m your fake date for less than four hours.

“I’ll go with you—”

“That was too easy. Was it the kissing? Because I didn’t really mean it but I can if you like—”

“I’ll go with you,” You held up a single finger, as if patience would fly into your veins by means of the hangnail on your cuticle, “but just as your friend. Not as your fake girlfriend.”

He was whining again, “But that defeats the whole purpose.”

“I just agreed to go with you,” You jammed your index finger into the plush of his bottom lip, effectively ironing out the pout, “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“What am I supposed to tell mom?” Jimin’s fingers rounded your hand, placing it in his lap. The vulnerability was back, a mix of what you saw when he was piss drunk and when he just needed his car to start. The lip you’d pressed a white mark into trembled slightly, “Or the rest of them?”

You shifted, covering his knuckles on the hand that cradled your own, “You tell them the truth. That you love your new job. That you finally got your decorations like you wanted them in your brand new apartment that you’re paying for all on your own. That the convenience store in walking distance from your place makes the best homemade donuts you’ve ever had. That you don’t owe them anything other than your happiness.”

Jimin exhaled through his nose, anxiously jostling his hand a little bit in your grasp as he seemed to drill a hole in the hem of your sweater. A high pitched mumble, incoherent albeit, bled from his lips after a moment.

“I’m sorry, what—”

“You’re right,” He peered at you under his eyelids again, “but I’m still going to tell them you’re my girlfriend.”

“I will eat all the donuts you bought myself and then walk home in the snow without my jacket so I get frostbite and you feel terrible for the rest of our lives.”

He moved in lazy slow motion, drawing his arms around your waist to pull you into his chest, chin digging into your collarbone, legs comically hooking around your thighs.

“You love me too much to do any of that.”

It was your turn to suck in a breath and your conscious screamed that you most definitely could hear an elevated pulse when your entire body was touching someone else. You huffed, relaxing into his embrace nonetheless.

“Don’t I kind of have to, fake boyfriend?”

He perked considerably, squeezing your waist with his hands that threaded at your belly button, “Well you probably shouldn’t call me your fake boyfriend, but yes—”

You regretted the belt you’d chosen for your dress slacks at the sight of the food at the table in the front of the room, the object your attention chose to zero in on rather than the various sets of eyes from around the room that chose to focus on you upon arrival. The weight of Jimin’s hand in your palm was familiar but nothing could comfort the sweat pebbling on your spine at the sight of his mother approaching in your peripheral, not even when he squeezed your hand and traded his grip on your appendage for your far hip.

Your stomach had lurched when you’d nearly ate shit on the thin layer of ice coating the parking lot of the reception hall, but now it was like if you so much as exhaled, your heart would pop out from it’s position in the base of your throat.

“Oh love, it’s so nice to see you,” She fretted at Jimin first, giving more time for the bile to burn the delicate layer on the inside of your esophagus. You watched with a bated breath as she pretended you didn’t exist for a handful of passing heartbeats, tugging at his tie until it was centered, smoothing palms down the front of his chest as the wrinkles you’d tried and failed to do the same with, fluttering at his hair until his careful middle part was destroyed, leaving the faintest of lipstick marks on the round of his jaw.

But the time she’d spent pretending Jimin’s belt wasn’t digging into the supple muscle on your waist was enough for her to build up the loud coo that slipped past her lips. She went straight for your cheeks, pinching hard at the skin and then patting it softly after in concession.

“And you, sweetheart,” Her fingers slid from assaulting your cheeks to holding your upper arms, dislodging you from Jimin’s grasp to suspend you at arms length to give you a once over. “You’re just as beautiful as the last time I saw you. Absolutely gorgeous—” She leaned closer, gaze flicking to her son as if he weren’t hyper aware of the shape of his lips, “—you know, I thought I was going to have to get the two of you together myself.”

You flushed seven layers of heat, teeth making the most forced, geometric shape as you nodded, “We beat you to it, huh?”

She missed the sarcasm, lunging the final space to wrap an arm around your neck and pull you down into her. “You certainly did and I couldn’t be happier about it,” She pulled away, still holding onto you, still looking at you as she said slightly louder, “Now I understand why he never comes to visit anymore.”

You winced, unable to choke down the words on your tongue, “Well, he’s just getting settled in with his new job and volunteering at the dance studio and—”

“Oh, dear, have you met the groom before?” She was taking you by your elbow before you could finish your defense, tugging you into the crowd, “I don’t think you’ve ever been around him. We don’t exactly approve of his wife but I suppose they’ll be happy at some point…”

There was a new blister on your smallest toe but it was nothing compared to the giant sore that was now permanently ingrained on each side of your brain from listening to Jimin’s mom and various other family members nitpick into every aspect of a wedding that wasn’t theirs. His mother stopped trying to get you say he’d come visit her after the third attempt at guilt tripping, instead focusing on how bad the centerpieces looked or how dim the lighting was or how dry the chicken had became after being out for no more than ten minutes.

You were exhausted.

“You owe me ten dozen donuts,” You collapsed in a chair next to Jimin, stealing his beer out from underneath his nose, “and like five hundred dollars.”

He winced, shoving his phone into the pocket of his dress pants, “I’m sorry. All my excuses to steal you back failed.”

You’d seen him hovering over his mom’s shoulder as she’d thumbed at one of the bouquets in the corner and you had half the mind to call a code red so he’d take you home and pretend the entire arrangement never happened but it was to no avail as one of his uncles swept him away before he could ambush you.

You gulped down the last of his beer, dropping the glass unceremoniously next to his hand. “I was only sent away on the grounds that my lovely boyfriend probably wants a dance or two with me.”

Jimin’s eyes pressed together when he grinned, cocking his head so that his fringe bounced across his forehead, “Is that so?”

“Yeah, so you know what you’re going to do?” You stood again, wrapping both hands around his forearm to tug, “You’re going to dance with me until they kick us out of here so I don’t ever have to hear about the difference between a respectable and a decent occupation ever again.”

He came willingly on your second tug, letting you drag him to a corner of the dance floor. He was putty in your hands, letting you angle his waist toward you, limp wrists sliding around your waist while you fit your fingers around the back of his neck. Your bodies swayed together for a passing moment, ensuring that your tyraid fit was over before he adjusted your position, taking one of your hands and tightening his arm around the small of your back.

“You can’t teleport if you stare hard enough, you know that right?” Jimin teased, dipping you slightly to catch your attention.

You blinked for the first time since setting your sights on the tile flooring and you would never admit that you were trying to channel a black hole to open up so you could jump through and end up on your couch in your apartment.

“Sorry,” You squeezed his shoulder, adjusting your position as he began to move you in a circle about yourselves again.

“Don’t be. We’ll go soon, I promise.”

“No it’s okay.”

You let your gaze wander from your previous escape route to Jimin’s curious irises, dilated a pretty caramel under the lights of the banquet hall. He quirked an eyebrow when you didn’t look away, lips testing at the dimples in his cheeks, eyes crinkling at the edges. Your heart stumbled back into the center of your throat where it had gradually worked back into your stomach, mouth parting, words shooting past the obstruction in your esophagus before you could swallow them.

“We might as well stop lying.”

His eyebrows went from raised to a single line, chin on his shoulder as he checked who was milling around you. “Why would we do that now?”

“No, I don’t mean—” You choked on your heart in your throat, stuttering, “—I don’t mean tell them we aren’t actually dating.”

“Okay, then what—”

“Tell them that we are dating.”

Jimin blinked, once, twice, three times hard, plump lips rounding into a perfect circle. Slowly, he confirmed, “Okay, we’ve already done that. That’s the whole point in your being here…”

If you opened your mouth wide enough, he could probably see the pulsating organ resting on the back of your tongue. “No, tell them that we’re dating and actually mean it.”

“Is that not what we’re—”

“Park Jimin, date me. For real.”

He’d stopped moving, hands still gripping your stature like you’d disappear with the track that was fading out over the loudspeakers. His mouth fished again, like his gills and functioning brain cell had stopped working all the same.

“I-I don’t think this is how this works.”

“It can work however you want it to,” You argued, nudging his foot with your heel, “Do you ever go outside?”

“You...I…what?”

“Look, your mom is going to get antsy if we don’t start moving again soon. She’ll think we’re fighting because my decent occupation is corrupting you,” You nudged his foot again, trying to steer him to rock back and forth, “and another thing?”

Jimin started moving under your direction, stunned eyes still peering at something over the top of your head, “You’re not going to propose to me, are you?”

You groaned, fitting your fingers into the short hairs at the nape of his neck to bring your lips to his ear. “I never said no to you kissing me.”

His impulsiveness out weighted yours in that moment, palms clammy on your cheeks as his lips clashed against yours. Your movements paused again, lost in the feeling of his mouth on yours shoving your heart back into the very depths of your stomach as warmth filled every open cavity of your being.

“Hey Jimin?” You breathed when he pulled off your mouth, fingers fist in his hair.

His hum was preoccupied with your jaw, trailing to your neck while spread palms slid to your shoulders to press you closer.

You gasped when your surroundings whirled, shoulders encasing your figure from the other guests as his teeth sank into the side of your neck.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

The fourth time Park Jimin declared code red was ragged in your ear with a prominent bruise smudged to your neck like a trophy in the middle of his cousin’s wedding while his mom was taking a grainy picture with her phone in the back corner of the reception hall. He hadn’t stuttered or cried but he had grinned the same as he had with a box of donuts in hand when you had to face his mom with fingers over your neck, rushing your goodbyes while he tested pinching fingers on your ass when she pulled you in for a hug.

#park jimin #bts #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts imagine #jimin scenario #jimin scenarios #park jimin scenario #jimin imagine #park jimin imagine #bts x reader #jimin x reader #bts fluff #jimin fluff #i was so excited to write this i think i like it ajfkdsjafklds #also sorry that my last two fics have had food titles lmAO

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ecriter · 4 years

Text

Keep You Warm

Word Count: 1.8k Warnings: light cursing Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader Summary: In the warm comfort of the Razor Crest, you and a certain brown-eyed bounty hunter are no longer able to resist each other. Authors Note: My first imagine! Enjoy!

There were many things worse than being stranded on an ice planet, though you couldn’t come up with anything at the moment. You could hardly think in the frigid cold that seeped into your bones, through the thin cape you wore fastened around your neck and the many blankets layered on top of you. Your last bounty mission had badly wounded the ship; thrusters had just begun failing once you and Mando had landed on this godforsaken planet, the auto-nav had been disabled, and, worst of all, the circuits of the temperature regulator had been shot dead.

It was the perfect recipe for a shitty situation.

Mando had wandered off the ship into the barren, white wilderness to look for a village a while back. His thick beskar armor wasn’t enough to protect him from the wind chill, so the warrior had taken the only thick jacket on the ship, promising he would be back soon.

Yeah, right.

You’d been waiting on him for hours. The Child was snoring away in his pod, seemingly unaffected by the harsh climate, but you were freezing, even from inside the ship and protected from the elements. At this rate, you’d be a popsicle before Mando got back. Your relationship with the guarded Mandalorian was complicated. The two of you had met when he’d landed on your planet for a bounty and instead had left with you. In exchange for some supplies and a hostel he had needed you’d begged to join him on his ship. You’d always dreamed about flying through the stars, but never had the means nor the credits to do it. By the mercy of the Maker, he’d allowed you on. That had been a year ago. Since then, you’d helped him capture numerous bounties and stitch up endless wounds. Often, the two of you didn’t speak. Body language was what Mando was fluent in and he showed he was grateful for your presence in small moments--a touch on the shoulder, a long look. His sincerity always set your body humming with infatuation. It was impossible to not be attracted to the Mandalorian. He was an elite fighter, a kind partner, and a stand-up guy. Plus, the way he interacted with the Child was enough to make the most frigid heart melt. You knew you could never act on how you felt, or else you'd be inevitably booted off Mando’s ship when the attraction wasn’t returned. It wasn’t Mando’s way to find romance in the small things. He was practically a robot when it came to attraction and there was no sign that he’d be abandoning the Mandalorian path for a girl like you.

Maker. It was enough to make you feel a little down.

Swept up in the long consideration of your thoughts, you found your eyes getting heavy. You tried to get comfortable on the cot you reclined across (on the opposite side of the ship from Mando--simultaneously too far and too close for comfort). You’d make the best of the little warmth you had for now and nap until Mando came back. Who knew how long that would be. In your sleep, you didn’t hear the beskar warrior return to the Razor Crest. He’d walked far to find any inhabitants of this cursed planet, and had been in luck. They’d supplied him with a few of the materials he’d needed--namely, something to keep warm. He’d start repairs tomorrow, but right now he was exhausted and admittedly a bit anxious to get back to you and the Child. He’d been gone for way too long, in his opinion. When he’d returned he’d listened for the signs of you within the ship--clumsy clattering on the metal floors, the rasp of cloth-on-blaster, your soft voice conversing with the Child. To be met with empty silence set Mando on edge. Setting down the thick coat he’d purchased from the village, as well as a pile of scrap metal and circuitry, Mando traversed the narrow interior of the ship. When he saw you, bundled up to the nose in every blanket his ship possessed, his heart ached. It didn’t feel like a secret that Mando was completely and hopelessly in love with you. From the moment you had first boarded the Razor Crest, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, Mando had pined. When you smiled, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. When you laughed, Mando had to resist betraying his religion to kiss you. The small moments you felt he never noticed were the ones he thought the most about. Gods, he was hopelessly gone for you and you never even realized. And never would realize, he hoped. You deserved better than him. You deserved a man who wasn’t swept up in the risk and violence of his job, someone who could take their stupid helmet off. Yes, he was gone for you. And seeing your red nose peeking from beneath the blankets wasn’t helping his situation at all. Mando crouched, removing his gloves and helmet. His cheeks were flushed from the long walk to and from the village and his fingertips tingled with warmth. He allowed himself a moment of trailing them over your cheek, down the bridge of your nose, exploring the minute details of your relaxed face. Seeing it slackened with the peace of sleep was as captivating as seeing it wild with laughter. Standing, Mando turned to go. His head was foggy with you and he needed to clear it. A weak hand latched to his before he could leave. “Mando…?” You mumbled, burying your face into the curve of the pillow. You were only half-awake, Mando noted with relief. You didn’t seem to know you were even grabbing him but the instinct of the action made him giddy. He tried to delicately remove your hand, but you had a stronger hold than he had realized and Mando resolved to the fact that he wasn’t going to escape without waking you. Which, by looking at your scrunched nose and pouted lips, seemed almost criminal. Reaching up to the latches of his armor, Mando let the beskar fall to the floor to join his helmet. He would just lay with you a bit until you relinquish your hold and he could leave. Besides, you were shivering beneath the thin blanket, the cold far too intruding. “Only for a second,” Mando whispered to himself, trying to steel his resolve. The bounty hunter’s soft fingers fell into the curve of your waist. His nose brushed the back of your neck, smelling the scent of your shampoo, feeling the intimacy of the moment. Close enough to feel your warmth and hear your breath. It seemed that staying in the small cot with you for just a second would be a lot harder than he thought. Just a second turned into just a minute, which turned to just an hour. And by that time, Mando had succumbed to the exhaustion of his journey and the comfort of your skin.

You awoke to soft light bleeding into your room from the small port-hole like window. You felt cozy and drowsy, tucked deep into the pillow beneath you. Your nose tingled with the cold, but your limbs feel heavy and warm. A weight across your hip pressed you into the bed and you furrowed deeper into its warmth. The rise and fall of the pillow beneath you was soothing and-- Your eyes flew open, meeting the face of the sleeping man in front of you. Dark lashes fluttered across tan cheeks, chocolate curls spilling across his forehead. Patches of unshaved grizzle were sprinkled across an angular jaw and it took your sluggish mind a second to process who this incredibly handsome man was and what his business was keeping you warm and comfortable in your cot. When everything clicked, it was like a bomb going off. “Mando!” You cried, nearly flinging yourself to the ground in your haste to leave the bed. Your hands flew to cover your eyes, the image of his face already ingrained in your memory. You stumbled to your feet, breathing hard, skin prickling from the sudden change in temperature. Startled shuffling came from the bed, then the languid (but perhaps also nervous?) laugh of Mando. “You can open your eyes,” He assured you. Warm hands found your wrist, pulling your hands from your face. Adamantly, you kept them closed. “Mando, your path. The Way,” You insisted. “You...you can’t let me see--” “It’s ok, sweetheart,” said Mando. “I...I want you to see me. For a long time I’ve felt something I know I shouldn’t feel but something I want to feel,” The warrior exhaled, thumbs circling the pulse point on your wrist. “You're my Way, now. I need to show you this side of me, need you to see...me,” Your heart thrummed in your throat. You couldn’t think straight, couldn’t focus. This must be a dream. There was no way in the galaxy that the bounty hunter you’d been in love with for months was telling you that he felt the same. It had to be impossible. Your eyes opened slowly, nervously. Mando was bathed in pale winter light, hair messy from sleep and deep brown, beautiful eyes murky with anxiety. He wasn’t used to hiding his emotions, so they stood nakedly on his face. “Mando-” “Din,” He interrupted. “My name...It’s Din. Din Djarin,” You licked your lips, tasting the name. “Din…” You raised your hands to trace the sharp features of the bounty hunter in front of you. “Din Djarin,” His name from your lips was like black velvet, luxurious and heady. Maker. “Say it again,” Din whispered, pulling close and brushing his nose against yours. Eyes coy, you breathed it out again, feeling a rush of wanton lust through your belly. “Din Dj-” Like a whip, hot lips were against yours, urging, nibbling, needing. You let out a noise of surprise before settling into the warmth of Mand--Din’s embrace. Your teeth clashed in the heat of the kiss, tongues insisting at each other's mouths. Your hands slid from his face to clutch at his broad, freckled shoulders, gripping the rough woolen cloth of his shirt. The kiss was messy and desperate, but as you fell into its easy rhythm, neither of you seemed to care. Porg feathers blew through your stomach, body tingling with charged energy. His mouth was delicious, insistent, and somehow better than you had ever imagined it could be.

Inevitably, the need for breath came. The two of you separated with a wet noise, lips tingling and swollen, hot from the kiss. Your hands still scrunched Din’s shirt and so you loosen your grip, flushing a bit. An easy smile tottered on Din’s lips, wrinkling the corners of his eyes. The cold of the ship didn’t seem so insistent and paralyzing when Din was here with you, broad hands against your hips, keeping you warm.

#the mandalorian #mandalorian #mandalorian imagines #din djarin #din djarin imagine #star wars imagines #star wars #dyn djarin #dyn djarin imagines #baby yoda #finn #poe dameron

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whumpywhumper · 5 years

Text

Christine and Markus--Part 2 of ?

So. . . There’s going to be at least another part to this but hopefully, I’ve satisfied some whumperflies for now? Continuation of Baser Natures

@0idril0 Thanks, as always, for encouraging me when I want to scream at my writing

Thanks @comfy-whumpee @starrywhump @imagination1reality0 @castielamigos for being patient with me and waiting on this!

Edit for Masterpost

***

The slick trickle of blood through the hair on Markus’s arm from the re-opened bite marks on his wrists was a poor distraction from the way that Lucien’s demand permeated the air. I want him to beg for me, Christine, and you know how I hate getting my hands dirty.

The female vampire’s slow smile did nothing to soothe the fear churning in Markus’s gut. He quivered in the chains, his arms stretched over his head, shoulder screaming from his aching bullet wound, unable to protect the exposed length of his body. Her smile was that of a predator. A lioness laying in wait on the savanna grassland with a gazelle in easy leaping distance. A wolf with a full belly, muzzle stained with the blood and ichor of her pack’s kill. A human’s lazy grin as he takes sight down a scope.

Christine purred, stretching over Lucien and bringing her arms around his neck. Black hair fell away from the smooth line of her back and brushed against his shoulder with a soft patter. “You want him to beg for you, Lucien? Enough to turn him over to me?”

Broad palm brushing up the line of her back, Lucien’s lips twitched, eyes heavy. “I don’t know anyone as talented at making men beg as you, beloved.”

She drew back, small hand cupping Lucien’s jaw and tipping his head back. He went willingly, pliant under her hand, and Markus shuddered at the control she exerted. “I have demands of my own, love. I think you know what they are.”

Lucien grinned this time, not holding back, “It’s like you think I don’t know you, Christine.” He raised his head and kissed her palm. “I’m hurt. Truly. After all of these years together.”

The laughter that rolled from Christine’s throat made Markus choke back a soft whimper and his body tensed away from her. “You know how I like my deals, Lucien.” Her hand skimmed down Lucien’s chest and she stood in a smooth motion. Turning to Markus.

Heels tip tapping on the floor, she stalked around him with gliding steps. Not touching but painting every exposed centimeter of flesh with her eyes. Markus clenched his teeth at the casual perusal. Unable to voice the flippant complaint that came to mind through the fuzz of terror that welled up. His eyes flickered to Lucien when he could no longer see Christine and he saw the vampire watching her with undisguised hunger.

Christine continued as she returned to look down at the still seated vampire. “I like them to be open, Lucien, with clearly defined expectations and limits. That’s what’s made our relationship work this long, don’t you remember?”

Lucien leaned toward her, “Of course, beloved.” His hands skimmed her hips and drew her closer. “I only have three demands. He remains alive. He stays pretty. And he begs for me.”

Christine smiled, licking her lips. “Two demands of my own, love. I want to mark him and I want to taste him.”

“I expected nothing else,” Lucien murmured, stretching to kiss her.

Fuck.

Markus tried to get traction on the floor with the bare grip of the tip of his toes as fear started to surge up his spine. He gritted his teeth, hands wrapping around the chains overhead. Adrenaline flooding. Fuckfuckfuck.

Christine broke the kiss, and she slid her fingers through Lucien’s hair to tighten in a hard grip. “Remember, Lucien,” she purred, “I’m in charge.”

A soft smile, “I am your captive audience.”

Christine turned to the panicking witch and finally addressed him. Acknowledged him as something more than a thing she was allowed to examine. “Hello darling,” she cooed, “you look awfully comfortable. Why don’t I join you?” Small feet met the bare concrete when she kicked her heels off. She moaned, “I do love getting my shoes off after a long day, don’t you?” The words were said casually, like she wasn’t getting ready to torture him.

The vampire was tiny, he realized, the top of her head only reaching to his chest as she padded up across the concrete to stand in front of him. He debated trying to kick her but, even with the surge of adrenaline, he didn’t have the energy to put any force behind it, to lift his legs and body effectively. He would just end up breaking his toes.

Markus swallowed, looking down on her with hard eyes. He didn’t dare open his mouth, afraid that he’d start begging immediately.

He knew that he was transparent as glass. That his fear was written in bold strokes like calligraphy down his arms where his blood still trickled. But he couldn’t help but glare at her. She would do what she wanted to him just like Lucien. All he could do was manage how he reacted to it.

A shudder rolled through him when her small, cold hand touched his stomach and he fought the urge to turn his face away. To hide in the corner of his arm and delude himself that this was all a dream. Her lips twitched and she looked up at him through her lashes. The smooth planes of her nails drug down his abs, tickling the sensitive skin, and he swallowed, the tips of his toes trying to shove him back from her touch. He startled when the energies in the air started to thrum at him and his breathing hitched in his throat, his eyes widening. He hadn’t felt that since Lucien had bit him. Air rasped through his dry throat, heart jack rabbiting against his rib cage.

The soft pads of Christine’s fingers brushed over the divot of his hip, and he swallowed a gasp of surprise when a spark of pain lanced up his stomach and down through his groin. What the fuck was that? Christine’s eye brows raised, “He’s a sensitive one, Lucien. You didn’t tell me that.”

Lucien hummed, “What can I say? He’s full of surprises.”

Her hand danced lower, over his privates, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Suppressing a muffled whimper. He didn’t want her to touch him, didn’t want to have to remember her touch too. But she only tsked at him, amused. “Don’t worry, darling, I had very little interest in male anatomy even before I died.”

That didn’t reassure him and Markus ground his teeth together as her hand continued down the inside of his leg. He jerked, eyes flying open, when her fingers met his knee and white hot pain pierced through him. A strangled shout erupted from between his lips as what felt like an iron spike ripped through muscle, pulverized bone, from hip to knee— nailing him in place. He slammed his teeth together over the burgeoning scream, the tendons in his neck straining against his flesh as he threw his head back and choked on the pain. The feeling didn’t last long, only as long as her hand was touching him, and he slumped as she moved away. Panting at the sudden absence of pain, small echoes lingering. What—?

Markus gasped when Christine’s hand slipped under his chin, raising his face to look her in the eye. Fear pooled low in his belly but he jerked away from her hand when she spoke, voice as calm and unaffected as her face. “I can see why you wanted me here, Lucien. This one is stubborn.”

“And I’ve treated him so well, too.”

Christine’s spread her small hand around Markus’s jaw, forefinger digging into one side and thumb digging into the other. Markus tried to tug himself away, again, baring his chattering teeth, and she frowned, grip becoming painful. “Lucien, love, would you lower him down? I don’t like looking up.”

Lucien stood, not invading Christine’s space, and gripped the chain with strong hands. The rattle and clink as Markus was lowered ratcheted up the tension in his spine as his feet met the floor, arms still stretched overhead. His legs trembled, weak, but he tried to keep his feet. If they wanted him to kneel then they would damn well have to make him.

The grip on his face tightened more and he winced as Christine pulled his jaw downward. Her eyes were vermillion, stunning against her pale face, cold and calculating. “You will kneel, darling, or I will do something that will haunt you for the rest of your life.” He pressed his lips together even as every muscle quivered and shook his head as far as her hand allowed him. She smiled, “I hoped you would say that.” Energies thrummed to life through the air and Markus couldn’t stop the shriek that pushed through his lips as it felt like his face exploded. Burning, branding pain seared through the nerves of his face. It simultaneously felt as if his jaw had been ripped off, tendons torn and shredded, the bone left hanging while someone pulled on the exposed nerves, and like someone had driven spikes through his eyeballs and twisted.

He convulsed, reeling, unaware of his body except for the pain that lived in his face. His face was macerated, black ichor from his eyes dripping down his cheeks, his tongue hanging next to his throat without his jaw to support it, wildly flapping in time with his scream of agony. And then the pain was gone, those same echoes lingering. He heaved a breath in through his trembling lips and spat out a choked sob as tears streamed down his face. His body was completely limp, dangling from the manacles above his head. His feet were curled under him, knees brushing against the floor as he swayed side to side, not low enough for them to take his weight. A slow slide of sweat trickled down the hollow of his back and his tears pattered to the floor.

Oh god. . .

A hand carded through his hair and Markus moaned, low and afraid, in the back of his throat. “You scream so pretty, darling,” a warm female voice crooned. Air stuck in his throat when Christine’s hand cupped the back of his neck, soft arm brushing against the curve of his shoulder, and his feet shuffled against the floor in protest. Oh god nononono. . . “Look up at me, little witch, and I won’t do that again.”

Markus swallowed and lifted his head by millimeters until his tear blurred eyes met Christine’s. She smiled at him, fangs pressing in to her full bottom lip, vermillion starting to bleed into the whites of her eyes. “Well done,” she murmured, her other hand coming up to thumb away his tears. He was pliant when she tipped his head back, cradling it in her thin fingers, and his throat worked when she ran a hand up and down his wind pipe. He looked up at the warehouse ceiling, at the iron pully system that strung him up like a slab of meat and fought a wave of despair. He couldn’t pull his way free of those binds even if he wasn’t weak from blood loss with two full blooded vampires circling him.

The fingers were cold against his throat and he could feel the wild pulse of his heart against their soft pressure. His arteries fluttering against the delicate skin of his throat. Her fingers came to rest over sealed bite marks and a small sound of pain welled up when her cold fingers pressed on them, threatening to break them open. Christine’s hand tightened in his hair. “I can see why you like him so much, Lucien. Listen to that voice of his.” Nonononono. . . She pressed a finger to the hollow of his throat, and Markus could have sworn that he’d swallowed razor blades. His next breath rasped down his throat in a wail, chest unable to expand completely under the harsh bow to his back.

Lucien’s voice came from a distance when the pain lifted, and Markus whimpered, swimming in a haze. “You should taste him, beloved. I don’t know that you’ve ever had anything so . . . intoxicating.”

A soft thread of surprise tugged at him when he realized that Christine had shown no interest in the blood that dripped down his arms, smeared and pulled by the manacles around his wrists. “In due time, love. I can still smell your venom pulsing through him.” She let his hair go, and Markus let his head loll to the side, closing his eyes. His entire body twitched and shuddered with the pained groan that was pulled from his chest when her hand pressed against the hot pain in his shoulder. “I want to know what he really tastes like.”

Soft hair brushed his cheek and Markus tensed, shivering at the cold breath of air that puffed against his neck. The vampire purred, lips pressing against his throat and breaking away with a small wet touch of skin. “Not long though, I think,” she whispered in his ear, “I think you’re almost ready for me, darling.”

#Christine #Markus #Vampire Whump #Lucien #whump #whump drabble #to be continued #biting #pain #sadistic #tag team whumpers #magic

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morphituu · 5 years

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Milagro

Chapter 6: “Closer”

[A note: i'm gonna be in hospital all day tomorrow with my son and their wifi is god awful, so i'm dropping the new chapter early 😎 enjoy! 🖤]

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Ch: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

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She felt that shot fire through the ends of her hair, barely tugging her scalp.

A sharp hiss, and she threw her hand over her shoulder, a resounding blast echoing from the wand that warbled fiercely in her clutch.

It was aimless, but her priority was to slow him down. Masses of people screamed and scrambled frantically for cover in the duel that blew apart the building and shattered walls and windows, small patches of fire spreading across tabletops and walls.

She found Fero then, only because his arm stuck out from behind a wall that hadn’t yet been decimated. She gripped it, and he swung her into his chest, steadying her beside him. Blood was smeared across his cheek, but he looked okay overall.

“Where is he?” Fero hissed, skin misty and covered in the dust and debris crumbling all around them.

“Shh!”

They both waited, the wand hidden in her coat and the last of the frantic groups of people scattering from the bazaar, leaving only the two elves and other wand holder in the building.

They could hear him stepping, slowly, and the low humming of the wand he had. Glass crunched beneath his heavy steps, a few rocks flying by them that he must’ve kicked.

She struggled to even her breathing, muffling it against her sleeve. Fero glanced at her, jerking his head in the direction behind her, past a few dividing walls that would better conceal them.

“Tikka?”

The gravely, taunting tone sent a chill down her spine. Had the young man she first met those few months ago gone completely? Where was the soft spoken Orc who was once wary of walking down a crowded hall?

When she moved sideways, an opportunity arose to look between the cracks of the dividers, but fear made her hesitant.

He was there, walking through the settling smoke.

Even though his face was still downcast, his eyes were up, scanning, searching. Through the licking flames slowly consuming the rows of clothes on the tables around them, she saw the fury in his eyes that could challenge the power of an earthquake. The wand illuminated his face; there was nothing familiar about him. All that he was had gone.

“Tikka?” he called again, but her heart sobbed.

Above all, she’d been the one to betray him. He needed her long ago, but she turned a blind eye.

“Makhel?” she called back, and Fero looked at her frantically, yanking on her arm that she jerked from his hold.

His tainted, golden eyes snapped in her direction, his face pulling in tight for a silent snarl when he stopped walking.

Tikka took a shaking breath. “Please- stop this,” she begged, fighting Fero’s urgency again. The flames were drawing closer, the heat making her shy away from the crack she peeked through. But he stood at the center of them, seemingly unaffected by their skin peeling whips of shocking, pure light.

It was the wand- it was glowing, creaking in his hand. The white flames flowed from it like lava, spreading across the floor around him, but did no harm.

How did he learn that spell?!

“Makhel I’m so sorry,” she choked, the smoke burning her eyes.

“Tikka we have to go!” Fero hissed, sirens starting to grow in the distance.

“Please let me fix this,” she tried, covering her nose and mouth.

“You can’t take back what they did!” he hollered, sorrowfully, and as the Orcs powerful arm arched back, she finally bolted towards Fero.

His hand snapped forward, and a wave of what resembled liquid fire shot across the floor from the burning tip of the glowing wand, shrieking in his hold as it engulfed where they stood.

Tikka’s arms had thrown around Fero just in time to cast her own protection, the fire only searing the tip of her ear and hair as it passed over them. The abrasion was small, but burned like dry ice. Only a faltering moment of cringing pain before they ran blindly through the fire and smoke, their throats burning and chests heavy.

“TIKKA!”

She could hear him howling, more blasts of awesome power firing wildly into the air around them, shattering the crumbling rooftop.

“Come back! Come back, you coward!”

But she ran, undoubtedly terrified. The Makhel she knew was lost inside the rage, and now stood at the center of the collapsing building was pure agony, and someone who hurt endlessly. An unbridled, immeasurable amount of power had grown in him, more so than she’d ever seen anyone harness.

And as she ran, fearful that a blast would find the back of her head, she realized this wouldn’t end with even the most heartfelt apologies. This would result in more deaths if his rampage wasn’t ended. If Makhel wasn’t stopped, by any means necessary, who was to say his rage wouldn’t continue growing past Bright’s alone?

↠

Nick stood with his brawny arms crossed and wearing an amused grin as he watched Sergey struggle to talk over a particular lively woman who was hollering with her arms thrown about, arguing a human cop was the only one who could resolve her dilemma instead of the two Orcs that had been called to the scene some time ago.

He was plenty used to this by now, and watching the rookie become increasingly flustered was no doubt hysterical, but if Sergey wanted to earn a solo route, he had to learn to handle these situations without Nick stepping in. He didn’t mind at all; he hated dealing with people like this. It seemed more often than not that women were always less willing to work with them than men were.

Sergey glanced back at Nick, his eyes pleading, but Nick only shook his head, keeping his shoulders up when he shrugged. You’re on your own, kid.

“You think I’m scared of two Orcs just because y’all have badges now? Think you can push a woman around?” she hollered, jabbing towards his badge.

“Ma’am you’re the one who called us-” Sergey tried, but tightened his mouth when she yelled over him, going on and on with the same things she’d said ten times already.

When Sergey glanced at him again, he recognized the fuse that was about to run out. That was enough torture for the day. Nick stepped in, quickly silencing the woman that he hadn’t told the rookie he’d had the unfortunate pleasure of dealing with before- many times before. Took some elbow grease, but before Sergey could finish writing down her information, Nick had calmed Andy enough to uncover that she, once again, was suspicious of her trash cans that weren’t how she had left them outside a few hours prior.

Sergey struggled to suppress his disappointment as Nick handed her off to him again. He was brimming with annoyance and ready to swing his baton into the so called 'trespassers' she’d initially called about, but managed to speak evenly and take her full statement, enduring her bigoted, endless insults.

“You best be sendin’ someone more able next time, Nicholas- I don’t have patience for this shit,“ Andy fired off, pointing her finger accusingly while her other hand drew through her kinky hair haphazardly.

“Yes ma’am,” Nick nodded, biting back a grin when Sergey glared at him. She continued to rattle off aimless words of abuse, her wide hips swinging as she strolled back to her home. Judging by the way she had to use her body to push open her door, the inside of her home was likely packed to the ceiling with junk. The thrumming clang of an acoustic guitar came from inside once the door slammed behind her, and a loud curse from her followed.

“Would it have killed you to handle that one?” Sergey hissed vehemently, walking by Nick.

“I get her at least twice a month, I don’t mind passing her on,” Nick simpered, the Orcs heading back to the cruiser.

“You’re buying for that,” the younger one groaned, hoisting himself into the driver's seat.

“I bought-”

The loud chirp of another cruiser caught their attention, and up came Ward, rolling against traffic and parking right beside there's.

“Hey,” Nick nodded once, walking up to the car.

“Get in, we got called,” Ward said flatly, and before Nick even opened his mouth to question, he knew, just by the ire flattening Ward's brows and his jaw sticking out a little farther; his classic pissed-off face. All he needed was the vein bulging on the side of his forehead.

Nick turned, finding Sergey leaned onto the center console curiously; goddamn chismoso.

“If I come back and something has happened to this cruiser or I find you in an alley naked cause you were too skittish to make an arrest…” Nick started, but he rolled his eyes.

“You underestimate me,” Sergey chuffed.

“Malinka,”

The young Orcs head spun, his playful demeanor settling down. Nick rarely used his last name, only when he was being seriously reprimanded.

“You’re on your own for the rest of the afternoon. Keep your temper even and make sure you go home to Dura.” Nick’s words were brief, but spoke volumes, as did the unwavering seriousness that kept Nick’s eyes on his until Sergey nodded curtly, answering, “Yes sir.”

He patted the window sill before swiftly moving around Wards cruiser, the door having not closed before he was driving off again.

“What is it this time?” Nick asked, nonchalantly pilling his Clubmasters off to clean.

“She destroyed the bazaar on Highland,”

Nicks head snapped in his direction. “What?”

“Kandomere said there’s… goo? I don’t know- some wand shit everywhere which means she was there. The whole place is in pieces,” Daryl explained bitterly, his hand pulling down his face as he rounded a corner quickly. The sirens and lights flipped on allowed them to maneuver between traffic; he even slammed the horn a few times when a driver was too inane to bother moving.

Nick’s face twisted, eyes jumping. “Why a bazaar?”

“Fuck if I know dude. This is just a fucking mess,”

Nick sat forward, the destroyed building starting to come into view, and both of the officers jaws hung.

“What the fuck, what the fuck,” Ward chanted below his breath, coming to a screeching halt beside the countless other patrol cars surrounding the ravaged building. It wasn’t just the piles of concrete and small fires that still billowed into the sky- it was the pools of gelatinous, glowing fire-like goo that swarmed small pieces of it, moving in centralized patterns like maggots.

It was everywhere, and beside it were countless MTF authorities, dressed in radicalized hazmat suits, literally shoveling it into reinforced barrels.

The men stumbled aimlessly for a bit, taking it all in. The victims screaming in ambulances, the glowing goo constricting their limbs, and others in body bags being brought from the rubble.

There were also Brezziks slipping in, their sly hands snatching fallen jewelry or goods under everyone’s radar.

Nick turned, watching two officials carry away a barrel that hummed lowly, the Geiger Counters at their hips clicking wildly.

“What the fuck-“ Nick exhaled sharply.

“Officers!”

They spotted Kandomere, and for once, there wasn’t much that was prim or proper about his appearance. His typical elegant suit was replaced with more… casual clothes, the sleeves of his button up rolled to the elbow and his hair pulled back. The dirt covering him pointed to him having gone through the rubble himself, but neither men could fathom him doing such a thing.

“What happened?” Ward questioned urgently.

“She was here, but for what reason we don’t know,” Kandomere said evenly, quickly scripting his signature across a clipboard when handed to him. “Someone else is with her, and I think they dueled here,”

“Dueled?” Nick barked.

“You see that?” The elf pointed to glowing goo, a small puddle close to them. “That’s Wand Plasma. It’s the cast off of a Battle Spell, a very powerfulspell. No other charm or enchantment gives it off. She was fighting someone else with a wand,”

“So there’s definitely more than one wand in LA,”

“Definitely. The reason as to who she’s battling, and why she is though, is without answer. Both have only left clues such as this behind to indicate they’re even here. We have nothing,” Kandomere concluded, overlooking the disaster before them.

They continued to look on, and the longer they observed, the more destruction they took in. Nick started noticing blood splattered here and there while Ward watched them bring out a smaller body bag, one that could be easily held in someone’s arms.

“I’m leaving LA,” Nick stated, nodding to himself. “I’m not gonna be here for this shit again,”

“Right behind you,” Ward nodded, hand on his belt.

“Neither of you are going anywhere,”

They both turned, meeting the critical, icy blue gaze.

“Excuse me?”

“Neither of you can leave. We need to know where you both are at all times in case she tries to make contact,” Kandomere explained.

“Fuck that,” Nick spat, turning to leave.

“If you leave I’ll have your badge revoked,”

Nick spun on his heel, stomping back. Ward shouted to calm down when he shoved past him, barely able to keep Nick withheld as he stood chest to chest with Kandomere.

“Then fucking take it. I’m not going to sit here and let her roll up on me or my family,” he snarled viciously, but the elf was unfazed.

“Then who do you expect to help if she does?”

“If I leave she can’t! So take or do whatever the fuck you want but I’m not risking our lives or my child's just to make your job easier!” Nick hollered, barely restrained by Ward.

“I am giving you a direct order to stay in LA! If you so much as step outside of city limits I’ll make sure you’re buried in the deepest hole of solitary confinement for the rest of your life!” Kandomere was booming back now, his face twisted into a rage he’d repressed for weeks.

“Try and stop me! Try and fucking stop me-“

“Nick enough! Back the fuck off!” Ward was yelling over him, shoving harshly against the furious Orcs chest, but moving him was like pushing a raging bull- damn near impossible, and maybe just enough antagonization to get him to push back. “Just stop!” Ward finally silenced him, only moving his hands when Nick turned to chuff and snarl loudly to himself, his hands upon his head.

“Why can’t we leave? If she hasn’t contacted us yet then why can’t we just fucking go? It would be one less thing for you to keep an eye on,” Ward tried to reason, but Kandomere only shook his head.

“You know exactly why, Officer Ward,” he at first said calmly before stepping closer. “She’s going to try and put a wand in your hand. If she’s Inferni, she’s going to recruit you,”

“Who says I’d go?”

“Wands bring power, and with power comes corruption. Don’t underestimate that,”

Ward’s face was taut in restricted fury, choosing to look away. “So what, we wait for her to come at us? What then?”

“If she does she’ll fall right into our hands. We’ve had teams following you both for weeks,”

“Us? Just us? What about our families?” Nick stepped in, eyes wild with worry. “If her sister knows how to take people down to follow a path, who’s saying she doesn’t know how either?”

“We don’t have that kind of disposable man-power-“

“Then find it! I have a fucking baby on the way! My girlfriend- my future wife is home alone and you’re telling me there’s no one there to keep an eye on her?! What about his wife and daughter?! How well is your plan going if she attacks them and not us?!” Nick bellowed, but Daryl didn’t push him away this time. This was another dark door opening up, revealing shady dealings behind the scenes.

“You two are main priority-”

“If you want us to cooperate then fucking work with us!” Nick finished, chuffing loudly in his face. Nick looked down on him until Kandomere took a step back, uncaring of the fellow officers watching them or the onlookers gawking.

“Because if anything happens to my girl, or my child, I will rip you into pieces. I don’t care if you don’t know what it is to have someone- stop treating us like we’re disposable. We have lives outside of this shit,” Nick ground out, his menacing form lingering a few seconds longer before turning away heatedly.

The cold, steely expression had returned to his tired eyes, as did the rigid manner in the way he stood. If there was ever a time Ward has seen Kandomere intimidated, it was Nick getting in his face.

“He’s right. You both are, but he’s more right. If you want us to work with you, then work with us,” Daryl reiterated, stepping back to follow Nick.

“He’s not entirely right,” Kandomere informed, fixing his rolled sleeves. “Leila killed my husband 30 years ago. Don’t tell me I don’t know what it means to have someone lost.”

Ward was left standing amongst the burning rubble and curious eyes, and admittedly surprised; it explained the resilience, and persistence to end this. The kind of loathing he had for those sisters must’ve been unbearable, or perhaps just the opposite. That very contempt could’ve been what drove him to see an end to this, no matter how much he had to withstand to see it through.

Daryl's attention turned to the few left still watching. “Mind your own.” he snapped, waving his hand. Still a few pair of eyes following, but became an afterthought once finding Nick inside the SUV, his elbow rested against the window and biting his thumb nail nervously.

“I know what you’re thinkin’,” Ward cautioned, but Nick’s knee kept bouncing. “If you try n’ run off with Callie they’re gonna find you before you hit Anaheim,”

“It’s worth a shot,” Nick battled.

Ward sat forward, inclined enough to finally catch his partners line of sight. “Then what? You gonna leave your girl with a newborn you’ll never see? You won’t even get visitations or calls. You’ll go the rest of your life wondering what your baby’ll look like or who it’s callin’ daddy,”

Nick’s brows were knit together in a deep scowl, the shake of his head barely noticeable.

“This sucks. It fucking sucks but don’t do something that’s gonna drag on past her finally being caught. Don’t do that to your family.” Ward scolded, no room for debate in his somber tone or unmoving grimace.

Everything in Nick wanted to pick up Callie and run- to leave as far away as they could until this nightmare was over, but Ward was right. He was acting on fear without thinking of the lasting effects. He couldn’t leave Callie alone if what Kandomere had threatened him with held any truth.

Ward’s hand squeezing his shoulder offered comfort when Nick’s face fell into his palms, but agony swirled just below the surface.

“Maybe we can bribe an extended vacation out of this if we agree to stay put,” Ward said a little lighter, and Nick let out a scoffing chuckle, leaning back into the seat.

A silence drifted between them, both spinning in their own minds trying to make sense of this whirlwind of a situation.

“Dealt with Andy today,” Nick mumbled, and it immediately stirred a grin onto Ward’s face. “I’m sure she misses you,”

“Still hates your existence?” Ward teased.

“Just like half of LA.”

↠

“Okay, that about does it. Thanks everyone,” the older woman smiled kindly, closing her binder as the other managers and a few workers grabbed their own belongings to leave the conference room. “Calista?”

Callie looked up, her glasses in one hand and the other still finishing her notes across the legal pad. “Yes?”

“Come to my office?” she grinned, the smile lines beside her eyes showing.

The flicker of a furrow flashed across Callie’s brows, but she nodded, standing with a soft grunt. She smoothed down her pencil skirt, a hand held against her round stomach as she followed her boss out and across the lobby, their heels clicking softly against the marble floors.

“Close the door hun,” the older woman instructed, moving behind her desk and waiting for Callie to sit before her, always struggling to find the comfiest position.

“It only gets harder to find that spot,” Tam grinned, and Callie shook her head with a small smile.

“Realizing that more every week,” she sighed, finally wiggling her shoulders back against the seat. This would do. “So? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, yeah, um… how are you and Nick?” she asked curiously, folding her hands before her.

“Good. We bought one of those wrap around things you told us about after the baby is born,”

“Oh good, those really make the difference,” Tam nodded, lips quirked to the side. “Alright," she srummed her fingers against the desks surface. "There’s something I need to speak to you about,”

Callie tensed, keeping her expression placid.

“One of the girls came to me and filed a complaint about you,”

Callie blinked a few times. “A complaint?”

Tam nodded, pulling open her drawer to bring forth the paper that had been filled out. Even from behind, she could see the lengthy paragraph that had been scribbled onto the paper. It was handed over, and she skimmed it, but was unable to conceal the amused grin from spreading across her lips.

“Is this serious?” she asked silently, peaking at Tam. Her boss nodded, eyes rolling back slowly behind an even slower blink.

“Over my Instagram?”

“Apparently this girl who chose to remain anonymous was, what did it say- ‘extremely unnerved’? To have seen such-”

“Vulgar displays of sexuality from two seperate races,” Callie recited from the page, brows perking up. She looked back up, handing the paper back. “Well as much as I’d like to I’m not apologizing for this,”

“I understand,”

“I’ve never brought my personal life into work unless you count this,” she pointed to her stomach, “but you know, that’s kind of attached to me,”

“Yes-”

“If anything that’s bringing my business in against my own will. Church and state- I’ve always been adamant about that,” Callie snapped a little that time.

“Callie. You’re not in trouble,” Tam interjected, silencing her rising tone and accelerating speech. “This? Is nothing,” she tossed it aside, reclined in her posh office chair. “But if I didn’t bring you in then I’d be breaking protocol,”

She nodded in agreeance, no matter how annoying it was. “Am I getting a formal warning?”

“No. I don’t care what you do outside of work. You don’t bring your drama in like half of these girls do so there’s nothing to be up in arms about here. What I think it is, is someone’s not too fond of Officer Orc coming in now and again,” Tam explained, brows raised high and chin sticking out.

Callie’s eyes narrowed. “Isabelle,”

“I’m not saying names or pointing fingers. But I mean this handwriting alone is enough to give her up,” Tam mumbled, pushing her pin straight, midnight locks behind her ears.

“I had a feeling it would come to this,” Callie mumbled, crossing her arms. “She’s not very shy about sharing her opinion in the break room with others,”

“That a fact?”

Again Callie nodded.

Tam pursed her lips. “Wanna write a complaint?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. More of an annoyance than anything,”

“Hell hath no fury like a pregnant woman scorned,” Tam smiled.

“Damn right. Are we done?” Callie asked ardently, already collecting her items.

“If I go out there in an hour and find blood and a body…” Tam cautioned, pointing her finger.

“I know not to dirty my hands.” Callie played, shaking her hands as if shaking water from them before winking and leaving the office.

Balancing on her heels was a little tougher the more her stomach grew with every passing week, but she found smaller steps were kinder to her. Forget tumbling at home- at work, on these floors? Who knew if either of them would survive that slip. Callie only bothered stepping in her office enough to toss her folder onto her desk, turning to walk with determination behind the counter where the other tellers were clustered during the dead period of the day.

“Isabelle? Can I speak to you for a moment?” Callie flashed her kindest smile, ending the girls snide grins she’d caught sight of since stepping from Tam’s office.

Isabelle, who was tall and lanky with eyes only big from at least ten pounds of fake lashes and mascara, followed Callie, her hands pulling the ends of her sweater down nervously. They didn’t head for the office, but instead the break room, which was empty, yet even if it hadn’t been, Callie would’ve done this in front of other workers. Maybe she needed this in public for her to understand exactly who she was fucking with.

She stopped just inside the room, turning to cross her arms and lean against the wall.

“So I was looking over that request you put in to switch your availability?” Callie grinned, and Isabelle relaxed visibly, smiling back.

“It went through?” she asked excitedly.

“No. I don’t approve shift changes based on who you like best that week, even if the guards are cute,” Callie shrugged, lips quirked to the side.

A few moments of confusion passed, and the tall girl shifted uncomfortably, pushing her stiff hair from her shoulders. “Um-”

“In fact, I think we’ll be bringing you down to part-time. Yesterday was the third call I received from an account holder complaining that you had a space open but took nearly ten minutes to call her- being the only person in line, because you were talking to Logan, who in turn should’ve been outside. I checked the schedule. He was on the clock, too,”

“P-part time?” she stuttered.

“It’s been a long time coming, sweetie. You’ve only been here four months but you call out more than you show up, and don’t bother to find cover before disappearing,” Callie added calmly.

“I have doctors notes-”

“You don’t. You have papers from a prescription pad you wrote false excuses on, which is actually a felony. I’ve consulted an officer,”

I've asked Officer Orc, you little bitch.

Isabelle’s porcelain skin turned ashen, and she licked her lips that had suddenly gone dry. “Is this about…”

“About what?” Callie asked, acting unknowing. “About what?” She was almost on the verge of giving up her anonymity, but in the end remained silent, cracking her knuckles at her sides.

“This is why bringing personal issues into work will always result in trouble. Unless you want your work here terminated, stop coming in with hangovers and those sad excuses of excuses, Isabelle. This is your final warning before I take it to Tam.”

She didn’t nod, but she didn’t fight it either before Callie pushed off the wall and walked past her.

“I’m sorry,”

Callie turned, finding her in the doorway, stood awkwardly in her flats and dress pants too short for her long legs. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve let my own beliefs get in the way, I didn’t mean to offend you. I promise I can remain professional from here on out,”

“Beliefs are just opinions and those are best kept to yourself.”

She left her there, flashing a kind smile to the others girls who were still huddled behind the front desk and staring with wide eyes as she made her way to her office.

When Callie had first been promoted to branch manager, it affected her relationship with most of the long time workers here who thought she didn’t deserve the job simply based on her overall methods of handling stuff like this, regardless of her perfect work record and stunning results that had streamlined how the branch worked. She’d also worried her anxiety would prevent her from putting her foot down when needed, but she found it to be an uplifting exercise she could confidently carry out into real life now, no matter how personal the aggravator was.

Not to mention that little bitch had that coming for weeks. But she pushed down that satisfied smile as she sat behind her desk, flipping her thick folder open to finish her notes.

The tiny kicker she squished as she hunched over her stomach protested after a few minutes of stillness, and she swiveled on the chair gently, groaning.

“Don’t you start acting up on me too.”

↠

Nick shifted the cruiser into park, sitting motionless in the seat a minute.

He’d gotten there early where usually he would get there right on time. The remainder of that day had been disorganized and offkey. He dropped his damn taser during a home invasion call, for Christ’s sake.

He rubbed his face with a low groan, turning down the loud chatter of his radio. He tried to settle in for the small wait, looking at his phone or making sure he’d logged everything correctly in his center laptop, but only minutes had passed that felt like hours.

Nick glanced bitterly at the glass doors of the bank, his lips pursing to the side.

There’s at least snacks in there.

He nearly tumbled from the car, his body tightening in anger a chaste moment before slamming the door behind himself. Why was his belt suddenly heavier than before? He twisted it back and forth; didn’t help.

“Afternoon, officer,” one of the guards nodded at him, opening the door. Nick nodded curtly, stepping into the bustling bank.

Ehh, he didn’t expect this many people to be there. Too late now.

He scanned quickly… his temperament settled the moment he saw her. Tikka dropped to the back of his mind where it was only a dull rumble instead of an insistent clatter, and the longer he watched her stood beside another teller assisting her with the computers that were notorious for acting up, it nearly dissipated. Still strong enough to be a constant, dark cloud in his mind, but not enough to stop his shoulders from relaxing.

He loved the way she held her stomach, like the hand upon the chest of a person in awe of a painting before them. She was star struck with her baby even when she didn’t realize it.

Forget the snacks.

Nick moved past the long line of people, ignoring some of their low whispers of disapproval as he made his way to the cubby Callie was perched behind.

“Excuse me ma’am?” he called, and she looked up, a grin forming.

“Yes Officer?” Callie played, hands folding over the cubby divider.

He inhaled, but paused. “I got nothing,” he exhaled harshly, dropping his head.

Callie laughed, and even the teller did behind the cover of her hand. “You’re not very good at flirting,” his lover giggled, resting her chin atop her hands.

His brows perked up, glancing between her stomach and her face. “Good enough, don’t you think?”

“Excuse me I won’t stand being harassed by you,” Callie said in false sincerity. “Keep it up and I’ll call the police,”

“Find yourself another ride home then,” he sassed back, grinning cheekily when she narrowed her eyes.

“Fine. Only cause I like your ears,” Callie flicked her hair off her shoulder as she walked away, grabbing her purse and jacket before emerging from behind the counter.

“Really cause I’m sure there was something bigger I recall you begging for the other night,” he whispered against the shell of her ear once they were walking through the lobby, but a hard elbow to his side silenced that naughty talk.

A passing glare befell Isabelle, who was staring from behind her computer screen, and Callie hoped her stark stare said all she wanted: go ahead, send in another complaint. But the gangly girl only looked away disconnectedly, at first holding up her phone but quickly realizing that wasn’t the best cover while still working.

“You’re awfully cheery,” Nick took note of, opening the door for her as she nearly skipped beside him.

“I’ll spill the chisme when you get home later.” her chin was lifted proudly when she said that, cracking a goofy smile.

↠

“A complaint?” Nick repeated hotly, stopping with the shirt around his shoulders.

“Yeah over my fuckin’ Instagram account,” she emphasized, legs crossed indian style and a bowl of hot cheetohs smothered with lime in her lap. “And that means she's lurking cause she doesn't even follow me! It said, word for word, ‘I am extremely unerved to see vulgar displays of sexuality from two seperate races’,”

Nick stopped again, this time with his pants around his knees to look at her with unamused eyes.

“Right?!” she exclaimed.

He shrugged with a grin. “I mean… you do have some borderline raunchy stuff on there,”

“Hey hey don’t take her side, uh-uh man,” she wagged her finger, brows arched in anger.

“I’m not, but,” he sat beside her, stealing a cheetoh. “There’s like 4 screenshots of our sex tape on there,”

“But all the bits are covered,” she argued saucily.

Nick looked at her blandly.

“There’s cute ones too- hey you know what, stop raining on my parade! I finally gave that little shit-head what she deserved so agree with me and congratulate me, damnit,” she demanded, hitting his sturdy chest.

“I was just sayin’,” he implied, and met her cold glare. “What?” he chuckled, but she only moved away from him, taking her bowl with her.

“You know I was gonna let you stick your dick down my throat tonight but now that I know I’m bearing the child of a traitor I can’t even stand to look at you,” she rattled off quickly, crawling across the bed, but sashayed slowly when the tops of her thighs bumped her stomach.

“What- wait, hold on come back,” he laughed, pulling her back by the hips.

“Nope, you lost your chance asshole,” she struggled, mindful to set her bowl down on the floor before really fighting him off. “Let go of me I’m delicate!”

He blew a loud raspberry, successfully wrapping his arms under her bust and flinging her onto her back with only half the momentum he usually mustered. Callie kicked and laughed, squirming in his hold as he struggled to grab hold of her flailing arms, taking a few soft hits against the jaw as she fought blindly.

A few jabs of her fingers in his side had him sitting up, pointing at her critically. “That’s off limits,” he warned, but his threat was obviously thought nothing of as she scooted closer, hands flying to his ribs again. “You little-”

“Nick no, no, NO!” she hollered, laughing wildly when his own fingers dug mercilessly into her sides. She tried to scream for him to stop, but it was smothered by breathless laughter, her legs retracting instead of kicking.

“Say cheesecake,” he demanded, her head thrashing. “Say cheesecake!”

“I’m- stah- or I’ll pah- pee!” she forced out, and he eased up, watching her gasp for air and cover her bulging stomach. She was still giggling between shaky breaths, her knees over his thighs as he waited.

“Hey,”

“Huh?” he asked, but exclaimed when her hand flew between her thighs and she sucker punched him in the belly, hard enough to curl him forwards over her. She protected herself as she laughed at him, but in this position, with his big body smothering hers and her knees unable to pull in enough to use her feet to get him off, she was vulnerable, and it was only a matter of time before he attacked again.

“You suck,” he groaned, sitting up on his hands. He was menacing like that, still close enough that she tried to press herself deeper into the bed.

“You like it when I do that,”

Nick’s eyes narrowed, a laugh breaking through. “You’re being fucking impossible right now,”

“Thought you liked it when I was feisty,” she wiggled her brows, her knees closing around his hips to move him side to side.

“I’d like it more if you were naked,”

“Is that all that's ever on your mind?” she teased, biting her lip when he pinned her arms down.

“Cut the attitude or I’m gonna fuck it out of you,” he ordered.

“Okay,”

Oh.

He released her wrists so they could cross behind his neck when he kissed her, rolling them to the side so he could pull her flush against him without compromising her stomach. He didn’t need to scent her to know she was already aroused; her legs were still circling his hips, her crotch grinding tantalizingly up and down across his cock that was swelling.

“You planned this didn’t you?” He questioned against her searching mouth, reaching between them to push her panties aside.

“Nope,” she sighed, arching when he brushed her clit. “But I knew it’d get here,”

She turned boneless under him when he pushed her back, arms spread and body arching deliciously after he’d sucked two fingers and pushed them in, slowly coaxing her hips to follow his rhythm.

“You like that?” He purred, kissing the pulse he could feel thundering beneath his lips. A starved moan was his answer, and he could almost feel the euphoria rolling off of her.

Nick smiled. “I’m gonna keep you begging tonight.”

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

Her patterned hands flinched back when he hissed, but he made no move to leave. Again she dabbed the deep wound, keeping at it when he groaned in discomfort.

“This needs stitches,” she mumbled, trading the soaked gauze for a clean piece.

“Super-glue it,” he ground out, looking down at the slice stretching about 4 inches down his arm.

“And trap in all the dirt and glass?” she protested, but he was already digging through their backpack and popping off the lid. “Makhel,”

“I can’t walk into an ER like this,” he began, squeezing the glue inside the still bleeding cut. “MTF is going to be doubling their people-” he cringed, golden eyes pinched shut as he squeezed his arm to hold the tissue together. Rania cringed too, her athletic shoulders drawn in as she watched him.

The bleeding did lessen, but that wouldn’t be a permanent solution.

Her hazel eyes flickered to him, noting the numerous tiny slices and scrapes covering his thin face, even a few tiny nicks in his tusks. He’d come back in worse shape, more so than she could’ve ever expected and had told her so little. It wouldn’t be far fetched to put his condition and the destruction of the bazaar she’d seen on the news together, but she didn’t understand why.

“Makhel?”

He looked to her, pulling his shirt back on.

“You can stop this,” she pleaded softly, head tilting when he looked elsewhere. “You don’t need to do this,”

“I do. I absolutely do. Not only for me, but for you, Rania. I do it for you,” he urged, holding her round face, her wild, dark curls falling around his hold when she leaned into his touch. “I can never take back what they did but I can stop them from doing it to someone else,”

“You have, you did. You stopped who needed to be stopped. You can’t carry over hate to all Brights. How are you any better than them if you think like they do?” she argued, but he only shook his head, his thumbs tracing her cheeks. The sparse stippling of her patterned skin was paler since they’d fled Brazil, the exhaustion evident under her puffy eyes.

Her face dropped, and he caught it twisting before it disappeared behind her mass of dark hair.

“Lul, look at me,” he called softly, bringing her glossy line of sight back to his. “When this is over, we’ll find a new home. We’ll start our lives- have a family,” he depicted, and the images of the small home they’d wanted on the outskirts of Olinda came before her, beckoning her back across the world where he’d taken her from that warm night. "I will give you everything I've promised,"

“What if this doesn’t end how we want?”

He stared, mouth opening, but with no answer.

“What if they kill you?” she wept, holding his hands.

“They won’t- she won’t. I’m stronger than her. She fled today instead of fighting because she knows this. Nothing can happen to me, Rania. I won’t let anything happen to either of us. This will end when it needs to, and I promise I’ll take you home.” he told her with conviction, but behind the strong front, she saw something different in her lover.

It was the wand.

Throughout the time he told her this, his eyes would often flicker to it, just beside himself.

He used to keep it within its case, but every night, it drew closer. First across the room, then at arms length, then beside him, and now it never left his grasp. It hummed obnoxiously when he wasn’t touching it, and often she’d catch him gazing at it longingly, rolling it slowly in his hands.

Makhel pulled her into a tight embrace, smoothing his large hands down her hair as she buried her face against his shoulder.

When his other arm came to hold around her shoulders, the glowing of the wand rested beside her cheek, now silent. She stared at it from the corner of her eye, a deep loathing forming in her gut anytime she caught sight of it.

“I love you,” Rania mumbled, clinging tighter to him.

He glanced down at wand, grinning, and holding her tighter. “I love you.”

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

Sleep evaded him that night.

Worries and fears had left his mind while Callie lulled his mind and body those few hours, but they were back, and overly abundant.

It trembled the hand he was using to drag his knuckles across her cheek, his fingertip touching the ends of her lashes as she slept. Bruises already darkened the skin of her arms, hips and thighs, a few hickeys on her swelled breasts open to the night around them.

Nick laid beside her in their bed, listening to her breathe, often laying a hand over her stomach to feel their baby somersault.

Where it all had once been able to ground him now only made him more fearful.

He had so much to lose; so much he’d surely never recover from if it was taken.

How could he fix this?

What could he do to keep them safe?

Questions he had no answers to, and only weighed the already impending sense of doom that crushed his chest.

Callie grunted, rolling towards him after her face soured and lips smacked together a few times.

“You okay?” he whispered.

“Heartburn,” she slurred, squeezing against his side. He pulled her knee up over his hips, alleviating the pressure on her stomach as she sleepily stuffed some blanket under it before drifting off again, her hair starting to slip from it’s messy bun.

The longer he stared up at the ceiling, the more the agony shifted.

The more he thought about Tikka, the higher the animosity grew, the questions in his head changing shape.

Why did she have to come back?

Why was she doing this?

Nick exhaled slowly, recalling the destroyed building, and the carseat tipped off its base after she’d broken into his truck.

She’s so careless.

He looked to the bedside table, and reached to crack open the drawer that held his glock before returning his hand to Callie’s thigh.

It wasn’t much, especially against a wand, but it helped a little. Enough to grant him the feeling of security; that he had some control over this situation Tikka had brought upon them, uncaringly, selfishly.

With a final, low chuff, he adjusted himself, pressing his chin against her head and fighting for silence in his own mind.

All in all, he wouldn’t let this end with the loss of everything he held dear.

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a very small, tender translation:

-Lul: Flower (nickname)

tensions are risiiiiinnnngggg, shit is escalatiiiinnngggg! as always, thank you for reading and feedback is always appreciated! 🖤😊

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madamebaggio · 5 years

Text

What is going on between Sansa Stark and Arthur Pendragon?

The whole country has been following closely Stark and Pendragon’s feud, but apparently, the line between love and hate is thinner than we’ve thought. Although some earlier reports considered the covers further provocation between the two artists, some people now think it might have been playground flirtation. Arthur is famous for his charming ways and Sansa hasn’t dated since her relationship with Joffrey Baratheon ended. So maybe what we see right now are just the sparks flying. The question is… Will they fizzle out, or are we about to see some fire?

Chapter 5

Catelyn Stark was a force of nature, there wasn’t a person in this world that was brave enough to disagree with her when she used her mom’s voice.

This was the reason that one Saturday a month, no matter where her children were, they all had to go back home to have dinner. That meant all the Stark children had to find a way to get back to Montana, no matter where the hell they were. Robb once had to fly in from London and then go back in less than 12 hours.

There were no excuses. (Sansa, Arya and Jon learned not to have concerts scheduled on the first Saturday of the month. It was that serious.)

Sansa normally loved those dinners -it meant she could see her parents and her siblings -but today...

“I just think that boy is extremely rude.” Cat Stark commented as she cut her steak.

“Arthur Pendragon is the coolest guy ever!” Rickon protested.

Cat glared at her younger son.

“He apologized.” Arya reminded everyone. “Sansa even forgave him.”

“I’ve accepted his apology, it’s different.” She indicated.

Arya arched a brow at her sister. “That’s why you two are exchanging covers now?”

Sansa showed her tongue to her sister.

“The internet likes it.” Bran commented. “They’re shipping you guys.”

Ned stopped cutting his food. “Shipping? Where to?” He asked confused.

Arya snorted, and Jon hid his grin on his napkin. “No, dad. It means they want them to be a couple.” Bran explained.

Ned frowned. “I don’t like this.”

“Dad, that’s just people talking.” Sansa assured her father, after sending a glare to Bran. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Fortunately.” Robb grumbled from his place.

Rickon and Bran started trading strange looks, then Bran shook his head urgently.

Cat arched a brow at the display. “What is going on?”

The two boys traded guilty looks. “You guys didn’t see his interview?”

“What interview?” Arya asked

“He gave an interview to a podcast.” Bran explained. “We heard it…”

Sansa threw a suspicious look at her younger brothers. She was well aware that Rickon liked Camelot, but she didn’t know Bran was also a fan.

“Did he say something about Sansa?” Robb demanded.

“Kind of…” Rickon shrugged.

“What was it?” Jon asked, clearly bothered by it.

“Jon.” Ygritte, his girlfriend, rolled her eyes. “Relax. He just talked more about the whole thing. He even apologized again.”

“Oh, that’s nice of him.” Talisa, Robb’s wife, cooed.

“You’ve heard it?” Sansa asked Ygritte.

“Yeah.” Ygritte confirmed. “It’s a cool podcast, and they have good interviews. Haven’t you checked your phone? Because it’s probably blowing up because of it.”

As a matter of fact, Sansa hadn’t checked her phone since she’d arrived at her parents’ house, because her mother always complained when they did it.

She shook her head.

“I have it here.” Bran offered.

“Show us now!” Arya demanded.

“No!” Sansa protested, but it was too late, her brother had already pulled his phone.

“I don’t like phones at the dinner table.” Cat reminded her son.

“It’s short, I promise!” Bran indicated, then just went ahead. He found whatever he was looking for, fiddled with his phone for a while and then...

“…some interesting covers.” A male voice Sansa didn’t recognize.

The chuckle that came after was all too familiar to her. “You could say that.”

“So, what’s up between you and Sansa Stark?” The man pressed.

“Just friendly banter.” Arthur replied, and she could just imagine that prick, sitting back, completely relaxed.

“People are saying your kids would look great.” The interviewer teased.

“If they took after her, they would.”

Arya snorted.

The man laughed. “And you say nothing is going on?” It was obvious he didn’t believe it.

“Nope.” He popped the p.

“But can we expect something soon?” The man pressed. “Maybe a duet?”

It was Arthur’s turn to laugh. “Who knows?” Sansa gasped at his audacity. “The thing is, I was an asshole, and I have no problem admitting it. I’ve repeatedly said I was sorry, but I’ll say once again. I shouldn’t’ve said what I did. Sansa Stark worked a lot to be here, and I have no right to call it bullshit just because my style is different.”

“People are saying you’re only apologizing because you got caught.” The man pointed out.

“I’m more concerned with Stark’s forgiveness.” Arthur threw back, completely unaffected.

“And has she forgiven you?”

“If she hasn’t, I can always cover ‘When you pass by’.”

Bran stopped the audio. All the heads turned to Sansa. “I’m going to murder him if he covers ‘When you pass by’.” She hissed.

Arya decided it was the perfect moment to laugh her ass off. “This is the best thing I’ve ever heard.”

Jon, Talisa, Ygritte and Rickon were also laughing.

“He did sound contrite.” Ned observed.

“I still don’t like him.” Cat decided.

“I second that!” Robb hurried to say.

“This is not a vote.” Sansa pointed out. “And there’ll be no more covers and definitely no duets.”

Jon opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“What?” Sansa asked, resigned. Besides, Jon was the quietest among them. If he had an opinion, normally it was worth listening to.

“I just think you guys would sound nice in a duet. Your voices would compliment each other.” He offered.

Robb protested and Sansa threw a piece of bread at her cousin. Her mother was not amused.

XxX

Sansa almost called Arthur to ask what the hell he was thinking about. He was only adding gas to a fire that was burning quite well on its own.

After dinner finished and she went to her old room to hide, she decided to check the internet to see if people were really shipping them.

Oh yes… They were.

There were some fanarts and a dozen fanfictions. It was embarrassing and it reminded her why she shouldn’t Google herself.

She didn’t read anything and ignored the terribly photoshopped montages of them.

Tomorrow it would be gone.

XxX

Why Sansa was still so optimistic was a mystery to herself. Of course nothing was gone in the morning.

It was actually worse.

God worked fast, but fangirls worked even faster.

In the few days after the interview, someone had made a fan video of one of her songs. Which, fair enough, happened sometimes. But never like this!

They picked a song from her second album -when she was under Cersei’s influence -called “Love won’t let me go”. She wasn’t fond of this song anymore, because she basically wrote it to say she loved Joffrey too much to leave, even though he was an abusive fucker.

However, they hadn’t used only her image for it. They’d used Arthur’s as well.

Shiiiiiit!!!

All in all, it was ridiculously well done, and in many moments it actually looked like they were together in scene. The person who’d done it used scenes from Sansa’s and Camelot’s music videos, a few from red carpets and even Arthur’s special participation on a biker series.

They also used some other actor and actress to complete some parts. Sansa was pretty sure some scenes with Arthur were actually shots of Scott Eastwood’s back.

It obviously wasn’t official or real, but it still looked good. A for effort and dedication.

And the person had posted and tagged them both in it.

Now, Sansa was tagged in a lot of fan posts, so she hardly ever saw them all-unfortunately- but this time, Arthur had replied to it.

“Hey, I don’t remember recording this. How drunk was I?”

Was he serious? Did he want to die?

A mischievous voice that Sansa hardly ever listened to, told her to say something clever back. He always thought he was oh so charming, right?

“Plenty, but you were very cooperative.”

That would show him.

XxX

And once again she'd overestimated Arthur's common sense. She shouldn't have encouraged him.

“Can’t believe I forgot it. Can we redo it? I don’t like my hair on this one.” He’d attached a still that was quite obviously not him, one of the parts where whoever made it used Scott Eastwood.

Who said things like that? After the interview and now with this, people were seriously thinking they were about to work together on a song.

How would something like this even work? It wouldn’t! Arthur had to stop encouraging those rumors with this type of comment.

Honestly… His agent should take over his Twitter account.

“Just answer him!” Shae insisted.

“Do not!” Brienne cut in. “I’m already drowning in phone calls. Everybody wants to know if you’ll be recording something together.”

Sansa snorted. “Sure we will. As soon as he learns how to dance.”

“Don’t say that to anyone, even as a joke.” Brienne begged.

“Let her have some fun, Brienne.” Shae rolled her eyes. “There’s a hot rockstar wanting her attention. This is the American dream.”

Brienne was clearly unamused with the idea. “I can talk to his agent if you want.” She offered Sansa.

“Please, don’t.” Sansa asked. “It’d be embarrassing, like my parents are calling his. I’ll deal with it myself.”

Brienne didn’t seem convinced. And when later Sansa tweeted a reply to Arthur -“Sure. Get your people to call mine.” - Brienne made sure to show her displeasure over text.

Sansa didn’t mind. She was having fun.

XxX

Sansa had just finished rehearsal with her uncle Benjen when she saw Shae waving her cellphone, a smirk on her lips.

She didn’t even have to ask to know who it was.

“You can’t possibly be serious.” She said by way of greeting.

“You did tell me to contact your people, Red.” Arthur drawled from the other side. “I have to say that I looked amazing in some parts of that video, not much in others.”

Sansa snorted. “You have way too much free time. Don’t you have a song to record or a beer to drink?”

“Now, that’s offensive, Stark.” Arthur said dramatically. “Is this how you see me?”

“I see you as the annoying man who won’t leave me alone.” She threw back, but there was no bite in her tone. She wondered when she started enjoying these little chats with Arthur.

“Talking about my stalking techniques…” She couldn’t hold a laughter at that. “Do you have a date for the Grammy’s?”

She leaned against the wall and glared at Shae who wasn’t even pretending not to be listening. “Yes, and his name is Benjen Stark.”

He groaned. “Fuck, I can’t compete with that.”

That made her arch a brow. “Do you want to compete with that?” Shae seemed curious about this question, and was unashamedly demanding to know what was going on.

Arthur’s chuckle was rich and made Sansa blush for some stupid reason. “If you have to ask, Stark…” He drawled. “You haven’t been paying attention.”

She was still sputtering when he say goodbye and hung up on her. Shae let out a low whistle. “That boy is good. He’s got you blushing like a school girl.”

“I think…” Sansa cleared her throat. “I think he just said he wants my attention or something…”

Shae snorted. “Darling, he’s been desperately trying to get your attention for a while now. At this point… I’m pretty sure he wants your body too.”

Sansa just gaped at Shae, getting red all over again.

Notes: There you have it!

OMG ARTHUR! Can you believe this man? lol What should Sansa do now?

A few things...

1- I thought it’d be adorable for Ned to be confused with the term ‘shipping’. I couldn’t resist.

2- “When you pass by” is another Brazilian song that is sickeningly sweet. It’s a girl saying how her heart beats when the guy she likes passes by. It’s cute and catchy. “Love won’t let me go” is another Brazilian song, this one about a girl who is suffering but can’t let go of the idiot she dates. So... ahahah i just went with them.

3- I almost made my own terrible photoshopped picture of them, but I gave up, because I suck at it (even if it was just to prove Sansa’s point about fangirls). The story about the videos is actually inspired on these fan videos we see on youtube that are glouriously well done. I myself made a few of them, but enver uploaded.

I hope you’ve enjoyed it.

Next chapter... Sansa gives an interview and Arthur realizes he’s deeper in love than he might’ve originally thougt.

Let me know your feelings.

#madame baggio #fanfiction #CrossOver #Crossover Pairings #Sansa Stark #Arthur Pendragon #game of thrones #king arthur legend of the sword #Sansa x Arthur #theres no way

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liberons · 5 years

Text

* 〢 ✕ YOUR CHARACTER / IN 5 QUOTES.

TAGGED BY : @blutkrone thanks 4 enabling me i owe you my Life TAGGING : @humanwrath, @vengeborne, @plaguecrowned, @aemiliiu, @aquasent, @snowinabottle, @delicaterot—tho listen i went overboard it’s just supposed to be the quotes not the whole fucking metas but JHVJH go off if you want.

( i. ) ❝ the palms of his two black hands are red, / inflamed with binding up the sheaves of dead / hours that were once all glory ❞ —D.H. LAWRENCE, firelight & nightfall.

so this poem draws this sort of parallel between a man who sees darkness / night in himself, in contrast to the memory of the ‘queen’; in all her light and glory. and i feel like that’s pretty redundantly a damn good parallel to him & historia, and the end of uprising as a whole. there’s this queen of sunlight and hyacinths ( a flower with symbolical meaning often attributed to being given for remorse / regret, which is not only a common theme for levi, but also, i’m sure, a nice nod to the apology he never clearly gave historia for pushing her into this role ) . then of course there’s the nightfall side of the poem. the narrator goes on after describing the beauty of the queens to talk of how ‘he’ instead faces a grimmer atmosphere. a grey churchyard to symbolize the many lives already lost, and describes his sunsets as torn & red. so this all fits levi very nicely—but this particular line, before all of the reminiscing takes place, hits best of all. his hands are very much tainted beyond repair / covered in blood and swollen from reaping so many of his comrades. whenever he has a moment to spare, he sees them and recalls how they may symbolize moments of ‘glory and queens’, but in the end, he will always go back to remembering the darkness that looms with it.

and a lot of d.h. lawrence verses fall into my portrayal; but especially notable poems you can look at for any particular interest in levi are “ giorno dei morti ”, touching on him & death again, & “ the revolutionary ” , as well as this line from my old blog; which—while the poem in its entirely is worth a look for mood alone—isn’t quite as reminiscent of levi’s inner turmoil as the previous two; which i couldn’t even nitpick from because they were so applicable in their entirety.

( ii. ) ❝ my body is both weapon and wound, predator and prey. i will self-destruct without any help. ❞ —MEG HASTON, paperweight.

oof yeah just some good ol’ emphasis on levi’s strength being both the best & worst of him. he’s incredibly useful for humanity; it gives him a motive & raison d’être unlike any other—but at the same time, it leads him to his vicious tendencies. it drives his common resort to violence over other options of expression. he’s nothing but a weapon at this point. an object for the survey corps to use, and he’s more than aware of it. it slides into every aspect of his life: from his mentality to just keep moving forwards to his inability to imagine himself in a world where this isn’t the case anymore. it isn’t entirely translated that clearly here, but from what i remember of my friend telling me when the smartpass first came out, he essentially insinuates he had literally never thought about what he would do if humanity wins, and doesn’t take the time to think of that at all.

( iii. ) ❝ turn on the dark, / I’m afraid of the light. ❞ —SHEL SILVERSTEIN, batty.

this is actually such a cute fucking poem lmao but this line really resounds with levi. it fits a lot with the narrative i mentioned above on his inability to see the world / himself as anything but what it is in actuality. he’s always been dragged down to one dire fate or another, and the mere concept of things going smoothly just doesn’t resonate. he holds no dreams of marriage, settlement, friendship, love, etc. because that just isn’t how his world has ever been, neither by observation or experience. and when he’s exposed to it, i feel like it would genuinely shake him. while we see him being rather invasive of personal space and otherwise seemingly unaffected by physical affairs, levi still fails to hold any valuable, clear bonds to those around him.

( iv. ) ❝ will you coalesce / of dust and light and broken glass / who has to sweep / who has to patch the empty frame / who is going to fly back / to blue? ❞ —KAZIM ALI, ornithography.

the poem leads with the fabrication of the scene; detail of the softness in day’s light hitting the room, and how the scene outside can reflect the essence of the narrator in question, asking if [they] “are blue”, like as blue, as the sky. this hits particularly well with the line i have reblogged on my blog here, where the essence of the light from the window being brought in through tattered frames, that despite the glass’ wear & tear, isn’t broken. and thus begs the question of whether “you” are worthy of comparing yourself to this beauty, even if age has broken you otherwise. this poem specifically speaks to my view of levi in terms of impressionism, with a lot of aesthetic references through “filtered beauty”, for lack of a better term. he’s a sensual bastard, who literally comments on the prime of the world being the beauty outside the walls, seeing that past the titans and everything he’s faced there. the idea that he can see so much of it, but only through corrupted lens. and as the poem title implies, the references of birds—wings flying through twists and turns, trying to maneuver both themselves and others—evidently matches so much of the survey corps in general. hopefully that was enough to grasp why this final line really hits home. this idea of working alongside his “other birds” / the soldiers, past the shards & dust of their being, to keep themselves together and see who’s truly going to attain freedom in finding “blue”, or freely facing the beauty of the world in its sky.

( v. ) ❝ … make death proud to take us. ❞ —WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, antony & cleopatra.

this quote just really reflects levi’s way of encouraging his soldiers; and just really makes me think of the final moments in return to shiganshina. it’s really just a beautiful line to reflect everything he went through to get to that final point of accepting erwin’s death; from when he was adamant in telling erwin he’ll defeat the beast titan alone because the mission won’t be a complete failure so long as “he & eren return alive”. at this point, he’s still holding that disappointment in erwin for what he perceives as some form of deception from erwin’s original words of doing it for humanity vs the revelation of prioritizing his own dream with the basement. in shiganshina, he hears erwin speak bluntly again of his “deceit” while discussing his plan, though now he reveals that he actually plans on sacrificing himself, with the narrative point meant to focus on how this means he won’t be seeing the basement, shocking levi. and you see that deadpan disappointment again as erwin retells of how this dream clutches at him, but as he goes on to describe how he feels nothing but the eyes of his dead comrades watching him, it sinks in that all this talk some manifestation of his guilt, and we see a change in levi’s expression again as he finally realizes what exactly is going on here.

this back and forth disappointment that finishes with utter confidence in his perception of erwin and their partnership is incredibly reflective of this moment in shakespeare’s play to me. and as opposed to his earlier view of needing to keep erwin alive, even moments prior, levi’s quick to agree on his plan. this seeps into a lot of serumbowl back-and-forth, but the most prominent bit is giving erwin what levi now sees he deserves: a good, clean death. similar to cleo, he’s quick to get over his mourning and set off on his own possible call to hell; setting all their lives at risk such that, if they’re all going to die, they’ll make death proud to take them. in the end, he doesn’t simply tell erwin he’ll “do whatever”, or just parrot that he’ll kill the beast titan and simply “trust his judgement”. he makes it a point to command erwin to give up on his dream and die [honorably], alongside every recruit, rather than just sitting there and taking it. and i do think this lack of argument, this final understanding, plays into erwin’s final smile that i just have to point out because i already saved the screenshot i love one (1) bastard man.

#❛ ⍀ 𝟎 𝟎 𝟕 ．» ʷʳⁱᵗᵗᵉⁿ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵘⁱˡᵗʸ ∕ hcs ．#long post /#and once again mar realizes she can't listen to instructions #i haven't written a single meta in months let me LIVE #im DEPRIVED #what do you MEAN i have to sit through 3 hours of human behaviour classes #and NOT go back to psychoanalyze my faves like any of this truly matters #and i had a bunch of quotes that i couldn't reblog but then i was like wow ?? expansion ??? on the ones i Could find ????? damn right

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theemightypen · 5 years

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miserable + "They're wrong about you"!

Lothiriel truly never thought to find herself in this position.

After he’d broken her heart–and their all but certain betrothal–two years previously, Eomer, son of Eomund, Third Marshal of the Riddermark, had not been high on the list of people she would expect to find herself defending. Even now, with the truth behind his sudden change of heart revealed by Eowyn–Wormtongue’s quest for Eomer’s estrangement from his uncle had not been limited to things in the Mark, it would seem–she cannot bring herself to forgive him in full.

Oh, she understands it had been an impossible situation. He could never have married without the blessing of his uncle and king. And that combined with Wormtongue’s less-than-subtle hints of harm befalling her should he maintain the connection had pushed him to it. But he had lied. Painfully so, saying that he did not love her, that she had been little more than a passing amusement, too young and too flighty to have truly won his heart–

Well. It still stings, even now.

But that does not–cannot–matter now, not with the murmurs flying unchecked before her.

“He is handsome enough, I suppose,” Lady Candis whispers, “but Elbereth knows all of those Northmen are savages.”

“I heard tale he has a terrible temper, as well,” Lady Himmeth says. “Likely as much a brute in the bedroom as he is on the battlefield!”

His shoulders–broad as ever, much as she hates to find that she remembers that, that she can still be affected by the sight of him–are stiff, rigid with the effort of not reacting. It is highly likely the women are unaware of how keen his hearing is, but the fact that they are saying such things at all rankles her to the core. Eomer and his people had sacrificed so much so that Minas Tirith might stand, that all of Middle Earth would not fall into darkness, and yet they still spew such venom!

It does not help that she knows, perhaps better than anyone, that their statements are false. Oh, Eomer has a temper, fierce and bright, but he is no raging monster! He is kind, despite it all, and brave and intelligent. And gentle–Valar, how gentle he had been with her, before it had all gone so wrong.

Lothiriel knows Eomer well enough to recognize the signs of his discomfort, even if he is not exactly the same man she had loved so ardently two years before. Hardly a surprise, considering the death of his cousin, his uncle, and sudden ascension to the throne. But his discomfort is tinged with something else–

It is misery, she realizes, that keeps him silent. Misery and loneliness, and Valar help her, she cannot stand idly by while these two vipers have it in their power to wound him.

“Tell me, my ladies,” she says, gratified when both women jump, clearly having not noticed her quiet approach. “What would your brothers say, to hear the King of the people who saved their lives so maligned?”

“Lady Lothiriel,” Lady Himmeth recovers first, her dark eyes alight with spite, “I am surprised to hear you defend him! Especially considering the rumors surrounding the pair of you. I wonder if it was not just your heart he rode off with two years ago, if you still can find it in you to speak well of him.”

Lothiriel looks at her evenly, even as her stomach twists with anger. Before she can even open her mouth, however, a tremor of awareness snakes up her spine. Eomer is suddenly beside her, looking as stern and foreboding as she has ever seen him. It jars, sharply, with the memories of the gentle suitor he had been, and even with the cruelty of their last meeting. Her heart gives a painful–and shameful, she thought she was passed this, over the loss of what could have been, over him–lurch.

“Say what you will about me, my lady,” he says, voice tight with barely controlled rage, “insult my home, my horse, my temper. But you will not speak of the princess in any way other than with respect.”

Lady Himmeth turns bright red and Lady Candis appears to want to sink into the floor. “We beg your pardon, Your Grace,” the younger woman murmurs. “And yours, Princess Lothiriel.”

“As you should,” Lothiriel says, latching onto her anger to prevent herself from feeling anything else. “And consider yourselves lucky that you are more wrong about Eomer King than you could possibly understand.” At that, she turns to face him fully. His eyes are as dark as ever and bear into hers with the same intensity as they had two years previously.

Oh, Valar, it hurts. It hurts to see him so close, it hurts to still be so angry at him, it hurts to not be able to rage at him the way she wants, or to kiss him as she used to.

But to reveal that would break her and that Lothiriel will not allow.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she says, sinking into a flawless curtsy.

Lothiriel turns on her heel as soon as she has risen, not giving him or either of the women time to speak. Elphir catches her eyes from across the room, his face a study in worry, and she makes her way towards him.

“Lothiriel,” he starts to say and the concern in his voice nearly undoes her.

“Don’t,” she whispers. “Please, Elphir, a drink.”

“You know, the point of these balls is to enjoy yourself,” comes Eowyn’s voice.

Eomer grits his teeth. “I am aware of that, Eowyn.”

“Then why do you look as if you’ve been kicked in the arse by Firefoot?”

He turns his head to glare at his sister. “I do not.”

“Well, you’re doing a remarkable impression of an Orc’s scowl, then,” she says, unaffected by his glare after years of being on the receiving end of it. “What has upset you?”

Eomer swallows, thickly, and risks a quick glance across the room, towards dark hair and bright eyes that are as every bit as beloved now as they were two years ago. Her back is to him, of course, but he would know her anywhere. In any world.

Eowyn follows his gaze.

“Oh,” she says, in a completely different tone. “Oh, Eomer.”

“Don’t,” he manages to choke out. “I have no one to blame but myself.”

Eowyn frowns. “Is it truly so hopeless? I told her of Wormtongue’s machinations myself and she seemed to believe me.”

“I broke her trust. And her heart,” Eomer mutters. “Thoroughly enough so that she would have no cause to care for me again. Wormtongue had little to do with that.”

She squeezes his hand. “Perhaps. But both hearts and trust can be mended. If you are willing to try.”

There is nothing he would try harder for, but that matters very little if Lothiriel is unwilling.

“Try,” Eowyn insists. “I do not think it is as impossible of a feat as your thick head is making it out to be.”

Eomer snorts, despite himself. “Thank you for that ringing endorsement.”

“And,” she adds, something dangerous in her voice, “you will not forgive yourself if you do not.”

#eomer x lothiriel #eothiriel #prompt response #my writing #yooooo guys guess who's going to write a Persuasion AU now #hint: it's me!!#but role reversal with Eomer as Anne and Lothiriel as Wentworth bc it's more painful that way!!! hahaha!!!

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50funny · 5 years

Text

Mage- Chapter 4: Battle At The Ball

Written by 50funny:

Part 1- The Gate Crashers

Alex stood in the empty kitchen, furiously scrubbing dishes sending water and foam flying across the bench.

“Stupid Liz, making me scrub up dishes. What did I ever do to her? All I wanted was to come to this dumb party,” Alex ranted under his breath.

“Alex, please just let me out! It stinks in here,” Bip begged trying to get Alex’s attention.

“Huh what? Oh yeah right,” Alex said realizing Bip was still stuck in his cloths.

Alex grabbed his shirt and untucked it from his trousers. He held the base of his shirt open allowing Bip to fall out onto the bench top below. Bip took in a series of sharp deep breaths and scratched at his tongue trying to get rid of the taste.

“Yuk, it smelt disgusting in there. I’m never gonna forgive you for that,” Bip spat.

“Yeah sorry, guess I forgot you were in there,” Alex said unapologetically.

“You jerk,” hissed Bip.

Bip looked around the abandoned kitchen.

“Uhhh Alex, where is everybody?” Bip asked.

Alex looked around the kitchen surprised, having not noticed how empty the room had become.

“Huh? Oh yeah, where did everyone go?” Alex said.

“Were you really so worked up about Liz that you didn’t notice an entire room full of people leaving?” Bip questioned.

“Hey, don’t blame me, she was a real jerk. We’re supposed to be friends!” yelled Alex.

“You can’t be serious,” Bip sighed. “Get your head in the game Alex; have you forgotten why we came here?”

As Bip’s words echoed through Alex’s head his mood shifted becoming much more serious.

“Yeah, you're right. Sorry, come on let’s get going,” Alex said.

Alex began walking towards the door followed shortly behind by Bip. He swung open the kitchen doors and walked into the main ball room. What had previously been the scene of a loud and busy party had now been completely deserted save for a lone old man sweeping in the middle of the room. Alex and Bip looked around the hall confused as to what had happened. The old man sweeping noticed the pair out of the corner of his eye and looked over to them.

“What are you two doing here?” asked the man.

“What are we doing here? Where’s everybody else gone?” Bip retorted.

“Didn’t you two hear? The party was called off early and all the staff sent home. Well all the staff except for old sweepy,” the janitor complained.

“Called off? Why would it have been called off?” Alex asked as he and Bip approached the man.

“Well from what I heard Mr. Lance was feeling a bit under the weather. But if you ask me I think he just wanted some quiet time with that nice looking gal I saw him with, haha” said the man letting out a cheeky laugh as he returned to his chores.

Alex and Bip looked at each other.

“So, what’s the plan now then?” asked Bip.

“Well we should probably start by finding Liz,” stated Alex.

Alex took in a swift gasp as he had a moment of shocked realization. He ran over to the janitor and forcefully grabbed him by the collar.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” the man gurgled.

“The girl you saw Lance with, where were they and what were they doing,” Alex demanded.

“I don’t know, they were just walking and talking, they went into the main study down that hall, the tenth door on your left you can’t miss it,” said the man pointing his hand out towards the nearby hallway.

Alex dropped the man to the ground before running off down the hall followed shortly behind by Bip.

“Crap, we should have never left her alone” Alex said, coming to a stop as he reached his destination.

From behind the large wooden door the pair could hear Liz and Lance’s mumbled conversation. Alex walked up to the door placing his eye to the key hole. His eyes darted around the study before finally landing on the two. Liz laid on the floor limply as Lance knelt above her, his hand around her head, emanating a red glow.

“Damn it, looks like she’s in trouble, stand back I’m gonna break the door down,” Alex stated.

“Damn it, she’s in trouble! Stand back” Alex stated pulling back his fist.

“Wait hold on a second, think this through first,” Bip pleaded to no avail.

Alex launched his fist full force at the door sending it violently swinging open with a loud thud catching Lance off guard as he looked over to face the door. Alex stood in the doorway staring at Lance with an icy glare.

“My oh my that was quite the entrance. You’re the boy from this morning aren’t you,” asked lance.

Alex remained stone faced as he slowly walked into the room.

“I take it you’re here to try and help your friend, would that be correct?” Lance continued grinning menacingly at Alex.

“Spose, something like that,” replied Alex taking up a fighting stance.

“How noble of you, but foolish all the same” Lance said standing. “But I don’t recall inviting you to this event, so I suppose I am obliged to remove you from the premises,” he continued taking up a similar fighting stance.

Part 2- Battle At The Ball

Alex and Lance began slowly circling each other waiting for an opening to strike the other.

“You can’t really expect to beat me can you?” Lance taunted confidently. “Come on then let’s make this fair. I’ll let you throw the first blow”

Lance put his arms out and gestured for Alex to attack him. In an instant Alex sprung forward at an incredible speed, seeming to almost teleport in front of Lance. He pulled his fist back and prepared to launch it at Lance. Time seemed to slow down for Lance as he tried to comprehend what had happened. He began to pull back away from Alex’s fist causing it to fall short of its target by mere millimeters. Alex made a quick U-turn returning to his original position in an instant. Liz looked on from the ground shocked by Alex’s feat of athleticism.

“What the?” Liz exclaimed.

“Liz over here,” came Bip’s voice.

Liz looked over towards the door to see Bip flying swiftly over to her.

“Liz get up we need to get out of here! Now!,” Bip said urgently.

“I would if I could, Lance put some sort of poison in my drink, I can’t move at all,” Liz said looking over to her broken glass on the floor.

Bip flew over to the glass, knelt over and began to smell the remains of Liz’s drink.

“Red fang,” Bip stated.

“Red fang? What’s that?” asked Liz.

“It’s a an extremely potent paralyzing poison, it also goes by the name mage killer,” said Bip.

“Mage killer! Holy crap am I gonna die?” Liz panicked.

“No don’t worry; it just immobilizes the victim making it impossible for them to use magic” Bip said calming Liz as he flew back over to her. “The effects only last max 10 minutes, hopefully this we’ll keep us safe for that long.”

Bip landed in front of Liz and clapped his hands firmly together and began to tense every muscle in his body. Suddenly a shimmering translucent blue sphere started emerging from the ground, encapsulating the pair with in it. Bip continued to focus all his effort into maintain the field as he started to sweat.

“Let’s hope this holds,” Bip said.

Lance looked at Alex still surprised by his lightning fast attack.

“My my, you’re a speedy one aren’t you. Maybe I underestimated your ability’s somewhat… or maybe you just got lucky, either way I assure you that won’t work a second time,” said Lance.

As quickly as the first time, Alex launched himself towards Lance pulling his fist back preparing to strike him. As Alex grew closer Lance prepared himself, learning from Alex’s previous attack. Lance sent his own fist flying toward Alex at full speed landing in the centre of his stomach just before Alex’s own blow landed. Alex was sent flying across the room landing with loud crash, throwing a plume of dust bellowing into the air.

“Alex!!” Liz and Bip yelled in unison.

Lance turned around and began slowly walking towards the pair.

“Ha, well that was easy, now just to deal with the pair of you,” Lance said menacingly.

Lance’s attention was suddenly drawn back to the dust cloud. As the cloud settled Alex appeared standing completely unaffected by Lance’s attack. Alex dusted himself off nonchalantly.

“Well, this is a surprise, that blow should have killed you, or at least put you in the hospital for a long while,” Lanced said. “There’s only one explanation for it… you used magic to protect yourself.”

“What, that’s not possible” Liz said in shock as she listened on.

“You… are a magic user,” Lance said as he raised his finger accusatory towards Alex. “But why didn’t I detect it sooner, I’m usually pretty on the ball when it comes to that,” Lance continued as he began to stroke his chin in thought.

“Maybe you’re just not as good as you think you are” Alex taunted as he returned to a fighting stance.

“Well maybe, or maybe you’re just such a weak magic user that I didn’t even sense it. Yes that must be it,” said Lance.

“Wanna try that theory out,” Alex retorted.

“Haha, I like your spirit! But unfortunately for you now I know you can use magic, I don’t have to go easy on you anymore,” Lance said. An evil smile formed on his face as he held his fingers out towards Alex in a gun shape. “Finger guns activate!”

Suddenly a loud bang filled the air as a small silver orb shot out from Lances fingertip at the speed of a bullet, sending his hand flicking back from the recoil. The bullet went flying inches away from Alex’s head and landed in the bookshelf behind him. They exploded on impact leaving a large hole wall. He turned to run away from the crater but was stopped quickly by a second bullet passing close by his face. Alex turned around to face Lance as another shot came speeding straight towards his head. He flicked his hand out in front of him causing a blue barrier to form in the air. The bullet hit the barrier causing it to shattering it like glass.

“Crap, that’s not good,” Liz panicked.

“Don’t worry Liz,” Bip said confidently. “Alex knows what he’s doing.”

Lance laughed maniacally as he continued fire his barrage at Alex who narrowly dogged in-between each speeding bullet by mere inches.

“Haha, you can’t keep this up forever, sooner or later you’ll slip up,” taunted Lance as drop of sweat fell from his brow. “You’ll tire yourself out at this rate.”

Alex jumped up high off the ground passing between two bullets. He grabbed onto the top of the bookshelf and with a strong kick launched himself off towards Lance causing the shelf to fall down shaking the room as it hit the floor. Alex passed narrowly by Lance landing kneeling down on the other side of the room.

“Damn it, missed,” Alex said nonchalantly as he stood back up.

Lance turned around to face Alex shocked and horrified as he noticed the short silver dagger he now held. Alex shook the blade off, sending a splatter of blood to the floor as a small cut opened up under Lance’s eye.

“What the hell was that? how did he see through my attacks, that shouldn’t have even been possible? And where did that blade come from, was he hiding it somewhere?” Lance panicked as he tried to wrap his mind around what had happened. “No I can sense it, that blade is of magical origin. But for a novice to conjure something of that strength?”

Lance raised his finger to point at Alex.

“Ju… just who the hell are you?” Lance yelled his voice quivering with fear.

Alex slowly walked towards Lance.

“What am I gonna do, I still can’t sense any magic coming from him. I have no clue how powerful he really is. Whatever the case, I can’t let him get close to me. One good strike from that blade and I’m done for. I just have to keep him far away until I figure out what to do” Lance thought, panicked as he raised his hand up pointing his finger guns once again.

“Machine gun modes activate!” Lance yelled.

Lance’s finger guns began to fire again much faster than before. Alex began dodging between the shots once again. moving so fast that he became a blur.

“Haha, you can’t keep that pace up forever. you’ll tire yourself out soon enough haha, then I’ll make you into Swiss cheese,” Lance yelled.

The wall behind Alex began to fall apart as it became more hole than wall, sending dust and debris flying into the air. Lance began to sweat profusely as he continued his barrage.

“Just give it up all ready, you can’t possibly defeat me” Lance panted in exhaustion.

The pace of Lances shots began to slow down as he became more and more exhausted giving Alex plenty of opportunity to counter attack. Alex once again launched himself forward pointing the butt of his dagger out. The dagger made contact with Lance’s knee sending a loud crack echoing through the air. Lance let out an ear piercing scream as his knees buckled beneath him dropping him face first onto the ground. He rolled himself onto his back to face Alex.

“You bastard!” Lance yelled pointing his fingers out once more.

Another small bullet went flying towards Alex, harmlessly bouncing off his shoulder blade and onto the floor.

“What the hell, that was a direct hit, why aren’t you dead?” Lance said in frustration.

“I’m surprised you don’t know, you’re a pro mage after all,” Alex sighed sarcastically as he turned to face Lance. “In its most basic form magic is just energy, an energy produced by all living things. Normal people use that energy up every day and replenish it at night by sleeping.” Alex began to explain “For magic users though, we harness that energy to preform our craft, that’s why we need to know how to conserve it, in case we run out and collapse from sheer exhaustion,”

Alex began walking over to Lance until he stood looming above him as he pointed his hand towards the destroyed wall.

“See, those little bullets you were using where strong… too strong. You poured way too much magic into each one than you realistically needed to in order to kill me. It was only a matter of time till you ran out of magic completely and passed out. All I needed was for you to drain yourself enough to start slipping up, and with how much magic you were wasting with that machine gun mode, your fate was sealed,” Alex said “You should really work on conserving your magic more. Take that as advice from a real pro.”

Lance listened on. Shocked by how knowledgeable Alex was.

“This boy is insane. To be able to come up with a plan like that, in the middle of a battle, takes years of training. But how? I still sense no magical presence about him, and yet he’s clearly a pro. How?” Lance thought as his eyes focused on Alex’s blade. “Wait, that dagger, I’ve seen it before.”

Lance’s eyes widened as he began to realize Alex’s true identity.

“You’re…” Lance yelled before being cut off as Alex stomped on his face.

“Shut your filthy mouth,” Alex said as a dark aura began filling the air.

Bip looked over to his friend knowing what was about to happen.

“Oh crap, Liz can you move, we’ve gotta get out of here right now” Bip panicked as he dropped the barrier around the two.

“I.. I think I can,” Liz said as she struggled to stand up.

“Here, I’ll help” said Bip, placing himself under Liz’s arm to support her weight as she began to shuffle towards the door.

The pair walked out into the hallway as Bip closed the door behind them with his tail, leaving Lance to an unknown fate at Alex’s hands.

_______________________________________________________________

To Be Continued

Thank you for reading chapter 4 of mage. if you like what you’ve seen please consider following my tumblr for a new chapter every Friday. Until next week, have a good day.

#Mage #Chapter 4 #Magic #Story #Original Story #50funny

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