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im-whatchamccallit · 4 years

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Crushcrushcrush//Kim Hongjoong (ATEEZ)

Request: Hi i was wondering if you could do a soulmate werewolf hongjoong x human female reader angst and fluff like she over hears hongjoong saying something and she gets sad and shy and worried and stuff.....

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst with fluff at the end, Werewolf!AU, Soulmate!AU, a bit of College!AU

Warnings: Hongjoong’s kind of a dick with irrational thinking, cussing I guess

Word Count: 7.2k

(A/N: Lets just pretend I didn’t disappear for 6 whole months, but i am back and my medication is no longer giving me the big sad so I’m a little more motivated to write.This isn’t the best work I’ve done, this is actually idea 10 for this prompt and idk if it’s executed properly but Imma keep trying and hopefully, to keep from falling back into a slump, I’ll start a new series so I have a regular scheduled fic for everyone. Also, I think I botched expressing the AUS here but just let me know what you think. Sorry for always disappearing, I can’t promise I won’t go off the grid again but I’ll try harder to be active in anyway)

Your mother always said crushes stayed crushes for a reason: they hurt. Bad. But you thought she was wrong, that your feelings for someone could one day be reciprocated later if not sooner, and that’s what led you to him. Kim Hongjoong. The day you met was a complete accident, your body slamming into his as you wandered aimlessly during your freshman year of high school. He was gorgeous with wide brown eyes, beautiful pink lips and cheeks, his hair styled differently from the other boys to reveal his forehead, showing his individuality. He was perfection.

“I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” Those were the first words he spoke to you, his voice so gentle, so sweet. And the way he reached out to help you with no hesitation, holding your hands as he pulled you up effortlessly.

It was love at first sight, all until he looked down to your hands, eyes catching a glimpse of your wrist, a row of zeros peeking through the sleeve of your uniform jacket. He slowly pushed the fabric up, both your eyes widening to see your soulmate clock had finally timed out, his hands releasing yours to check his own wrist, a quiver to his lips as his clock matched yours, his once soft eyes now hard as he stared you down.

“Stay far away from me.” He warned, not saying another word as he headed to his homeroom, your body frozen as you watched him disappear. He was so harsh, yet you liked him. Maybe suddenly finding his soulmate scared him, but it was no problem to you! You were bound to end up together so you played the waiting game with him, being the perfect soulmate you could possibly be whether he accepted it or not.

And that led you here, now seniors in college and still acting the way you were when you met. Hongjoong was still cold, treating you like some plague while you could only smile along. You weren’t sure how you missed the fact you lived in a predominantly werewolf area until a public service announcement came on your television one night to remind humans to stay indoors during the full moon, that night dedicated to werewolves being as free as they could be, but it made you even more hopeful when you were on your way home from work one night, taking a shortcut through the woods since it lead right to your backyard.

You were 16 at the time, so the sight of a shirtless person would obviously make you flustered, but a shirtless Hongjoong? Enough to cause a nosebleed. He was 16 as well, the exact age a werewolf develops a mate bond and, seeing as you’ve already been confirmed as soulmates in the human world, the sudden desire to latch onto you and never let you go once you locked eyes only made your lifelong attachment more real, and he was freaking out. He didn’t speak, opting to shift without removing the remainder of his clothes, your eyes wide as he moved deeper through the thick trees and towards the horizon where the orange sky was in full view and, the grin on your face just couldn’t stop growing. You knew werewolves had a stronger drive to their mates, so the idea that he could avoid you forever was laughable. Sure, you were both 23 and he has uped his disdain for you from staying silent to calling you any vile name he could think of, but it was only a matter of time before he came around. You just knew it.

“(Y/n), stop gawking.” Miyeon joked, poking your side to snap you from your daydreams, your eyes widening when you noticed a few of Hongjoong’s friend’s catching your gaze, a blush painting your face as you turned away.

“I wasn’t gawking, just making sure their table was okay. I am their waitress tonight.”

“And every other night because you said, and I quote, ‘I wanna work at any table my Joongie’s going to be at!’” She mocked, your eyes rolling as you looked back towards them.

You took a job at a diner just a few blocks from both your apartment and college campus, the pay great and the distance convenient. It was the only time you had to yourself instead of lingering to Hongjoong, figuring out his classes and breaks to give him snacks and lunches you’d personally make for him since you overheard him complain about the campus food before, only to be told they tasted like shit and he’d find his own food. It was a bit of a kick to the face to hear that, but you had one saving grace: his pack. The first time Hongjoong sent you away with a bitter remark, they were curious about you, tracking you down when they weren’t with their alpha to get more info on who you were and what you found so loveable about the man treating you like some demon. They were surprised by how sweet you were and how accepting you were to be the unwanted luna of an eight-wolf pack. They could never hate Hongjoong but they sure as hell loved you just a little more than him. Unbeknownst to both of you, Yunho and Mingi found out where you worked, making a plan with the others to take Hongjoong there as much as possible so he would have no choice but to interact with you, even if he stayed silent to not appear like an asshole in front of the various strangers dining as well. Hongjoong would honestly never return if he had the choice, but something about the restaurant’s signature burger kept bringing him back, which is why he was here, sipping his soda angrily as he waited on his meal that would be served by his worst nightmare, you.

“I don’t know why you don’t just find someone else. Isn’t it easy for humans to reject soulmates? You could move on with no problems.” She said, helping you grasp onto the steel tray covered in various meals, a huff leaving you as you put on a bright smile.

“Because I know it’s harder to move on for wolves. You guys don’t have a choice on who your mates are, and you just accept it once you meet them. I know Hongjoong will accept me eventually, it’s just gonna take some time.” You gave one more smile before wobbling towards the table in question.

Hongjoong tried not to follow the gaze of his pack as they watched you happily approach them, letting out a huff as you adjusted the tray onto your shoulder, grasping the plates and placing them in front of the respective person, Hongjoong’s nose twitching at the smell of his burgers and fries, not wasting anytime to dig in as the other’s thanked you, but you shyly looked at the male before you, the tray pressed to your chest as you tried to find a casual way to speak with him.

“I-uh- I-I remembered last time you asked for extra cheese, so I decided to put cheese in the burger too! I hope you like it better than the tofu stew I made you for lunch the other week.”

“I didn’t ask for extra cheese this time, so why put it inside my burger where I can’t take it off?” He said spitefully, mouth still full as he set the half-eaten burger down.

Your smile faltered but bounced back as you reached towards his plate.

“O-oh! Well, I can take it back and make you another! This time I ca-“

“’This time’? You should’ve just done it from the start. Your job is to listen and do what you’re told and you can’t even do that? What can you do right?”

You swallowed hard, your eyes wandering to the people now staring at you as the scene unfolded, your heartbeat ringing in your ears as you tried to hold it together. The worst he’s called you in an idiot and that was usually under his breath, so to practically say it out loud, in front of strangers while you were in the middle of a shift and forced to do nothing but smile like you usually would, felt like you were being stabbed and burned simultaneously. You couldn’t keep smiling, looking down as you tried to apologize, only for him to cut you off once again.

“Go bother someone else. Or hide in the back if you’re just gonna keep fucking up this much.”

The space was eerily silent, even with the soft music playing, your eyes not leaving your shoes as you shuffled away. It was a pitiful sight, Seonghwa releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as you went to a neighboring table to retrieve plates and glasses left by a couple from before. He was ready to tear Hongjoong’s head off, not as a gamma to an alpha but as one friend to another, his jaw tight as he prepared to berate him the way he did you but, somehow, Wooyoung beat him by asking a question none of them thought to ask before.

“What did she ever do to you that you have to treat her like that?”

There was a strange but tense silence as they awaited his answer, watching him taking small bites of his fries as he stared ahead at nothing before turning to them with what could only be described as a sadistic smirk.

“Imagine being 13 and finding out the best years of your life, the years of dating, hooking up, just discovering who you are, are gone because your mate decides to show up and take that from you.”

“Are you fucking stupid? That’s the reason we have mates, so we can do those things with one person instead of random people!” Seonghwa nearly yelled, trying to keep his voice low as to not alarm anymore spectators again.

“For the past 7 years, I’ve been trying to get her to leave or just reject me, but it’s clear to me now that she’s just an idiot that doesn’t understand she’s not needed, by me or anyone. And, if you’re as dumb as her, I’ll simplify it for you: she’s unwanted.”

Whatever pain you felt before suddenly disappeared into a numbness you couldn’t explain. He knew you were there, that you could hear him, that you would hear him, and yet he still said it. You were conflicted and sad, your lips curling in a mixture of disgust and anger before settling on a bright smile. Never mind the fact your tears finally spilled over, that your heart ached with every beat and your body felt heavy with the weight of being rejected by someone you waited so long for, you just had to smile. Soulmates were supposed to be a sure thing, supposed to be your happily ever after, yet it just turned out to be a crush, one that you should’ve let die the day you met him.

“(Y/n/n)…” Miyeon spoke cautiously as you made your way towards the bar, your other coworkers watching from beside her as if you were some strange spectacle.

“We have to start cleaning, y’know? It’ll help us get out of here a lot faster tonight.” You said in your usual cheerful tone, tears still flowing and a faint crack to your voice.

“How about you just head home for the day, (Y/n)? We can handle everything from here.” Your manager said, her eyes scanning your face as you moved past them and to the kitchen, their bodies following instinctively.

“What? No! I’m fine! We still have 4 more hours to go and I think if I get a head start with the chefs for tomorrow lunch specials I ca-“

“(Y/n), please-“

“I’m fine, Miyeon! Really! It’s not like I got broken up with or anything, I never even had a boyfriend! Just a crush on someone that thinks I’m a waste of space! Isn’t that super ironic? Spending most of your life chasing after someone that wants nothing to do with you? That’s really funny, right?” You choked out, lips pursing into a thin line to keep in your sobs but your attempts were futile, everything slowly starting to hit you at once until your body collapsed, one of the other servers catching you before you hit the ground.

It was all a blur from there, the words of comfort everyone offered turning into muffled noise as your cries of agony came out freely, the way Miyeon dragged you from the emergency exit at the back of the building and to her car to take you home, and even when you crawled into bed and managed to sleep despite the pounding headache. 7 years came and went and there was nothing to show for it. No soulmate, no boyfriend, no romance, not even a friendship. You were empty and for some reason the only thing filling your heart and mind was the person who broke you.

It felt like time stood still yet hours had passed, Hongjoong back in his own bedroom pressing away at his keyboard, stopping occasionally to write a few notes down from his new composition, but he wasn’t distracted enough to hear his door open, various footsteps entering and even a few bodies settling in on his bed, his eyes not bothering to leave his notebook as he figured this moment would come.

“You don’t need to lecture me.” He grumbled, going back to play a few more notes only to find his keyboard unplugged, Mingi tossing the cord away as his alpha stared him down.

“It’s only a lecture if you listen and learn, which you won’t, so we’re gonna make you feel as bad as possible for driving away the only person that gave a shit about you.” San said with a bright smile, a scoff leaving Hongjoong as he finally turned in his chair to face them, eyes scanning the room to see this situation wasn’t playful but truly hostile, almost like an ambush.

“So, you guys don’t care about me?”

“Trying to get you to accept your soulmate so you don’t die shows we care a lot more than we should.” Yeosang spoke, making himself comfortable as he sat against the pillow and headboard.

“But we’re the real assholes for trying to force her with someone as shitty as you.” Seonghwa finally said, Hongjoong’s head snapping in his direction as he let out a dry chuckle, shifting in his seat so he was leaning backwards, arms crossed as he told himself to stay calm during his friend’s potential tantrum.

“I feel like you have the most to say since you’ve been in love with my mate the longest, so go ahead, tell me how I’m such a bad man, Seonghwa. I’m all ears.” His smugness made the tension worse, Seonghwa stepping closer with clenched fist.

“I’m not in love with you mate, but if I didn’t know someone was waiting for me because we were fated to be together, maybe I would have asked (Y/n) out, because she deserves better than a lowlife with the brain function of a dead goldfish. But I respect her too much as your mate and my luna to not push those boundaries so I tried to help her get closer to you because I know you, Hongjoong. You’re not an asshole or a jerk, but to her? You treat her like shit, when really you’d have no one without her. You’re a short, scrawny, nerdy moron that locks himself in a dark room for days on end just to complete a single project, then emerge to eat cold pizza and watch Despicable Me because your pea-sized brain can’t comprehend anything that isn’t brightly colored animation. If you take away your alpha status, no girl would even look in your direction but you have someone literally at your side, the only human not afraid of you, trying to figure out everything there is to know about you, yet you can’t give her the time of day. You probably don’t even know a damn thing about her.”

“Unfortunately, I know more than enough about her.” Hongjoong spoke, all amusement gone as he glared at the older male, their mindlink clogged with threatening growls and barks, trying to keep their fight from getting physical.

That first sentence alone made Hongjoong’s blood boil, his face contorted in a mixture of pain and disgust. How could Seonghwa even say that to him, plotting to steal his mate all because he was a bit uncertain? That all it was, uncertainty! He didn’t hate you, or wish you weren’t around, he actually grew to anticipate and enjoy your ramblings about your day or whatever new thing caught your attention, he actually even loved the lunches that you’d make for him. He couldn’t help that over the years he grew to crave you more, but the thought of fully accepting you and solidifying that the best years of his life were about to be gone, restricted to one person forever before he could even determine for himself his likes and dislikes, what he considered real love rather than what fate wanted him to feel, was terrifying. So he distanced himself from you, spending the years watching you from afar in hopes that if he didn’t get too close he wouldn’t lose his free will completely.

But it was a bad habit that seeped into your college years, everyone assuming he cared so little for you when he knew everything there was to know. He knew where you worked before any of the boys did, where your apartment was, the fact you were a business major planning to open a bakery once you graduated, he knew you didn’t have classes on Fridays but always came back on campus because you prepared meals for the men’s and women’s wrestling team which is where Jongho first met you, he knew you hated mint chocolate chip ice cream just like him but loved chocolate ice cream with mint chips, he knew you were always cold but overheat at night and wake up at exactly 3am to change into shorts and a tank top to be more comfortable, he knew about the birthmark on your lower back and a scar on your hip from a cat scra-

“Holy shit, you’re insane.” Wooyoung breathed out, Hongjoong’s eyes focusing on the room in front of him, a mixture of shocked expressions and amused ones filling his vision.

“I liked it better when we thought you hated her but, hyung, you’ve been stalking her since your freshman year of high school?” Jongho asked cautiously.

It was a weird feeling bubbling inside Hongjoong, the primary one being embarrassment. He knew he’d sometimes unintentionally rant in their mindlink whenever he was upset but to make an almost decade long secret public to his pack, revealing the intimate details of how you slowly but surely ingrained yourself into not only his brain but his life until he felt like he was going crazy? It made him tear up, his face burn with a blush as he was finally forced to face the truth. He pushed you away but wanted you more than anything. He wanted to spend his years free to explore before finally settling down only to reject every girl that came close to him simply because they weren’t you, and he took that anger out on you. What was he so mad about? The fact you stood by his side with a smile happily accepting him while he tried and failed to lust after other women? Was he that pathetic? He could admit now that he was and, if he could turn back time, he would’ve introduced himself and walked you to class. Just the first step of fully accepting you.

“You’re still ranting in the mindlink, you know?” Seonghwa said softly, regaining the once again lost focus of his alpha who was too consumed in his own pity to notice the tension died down, their gazes soft as they tried to sympathize with their leader.

“Sorry. I wish none of you heard that stuff.” He admitted, sniffling as he realized he’d been crying, hand hurriedly wiping away tears from his cheeks.

“Well, it’s a good thing we did. We still think you’re a moron, but at least we know you’re feeling guilty about all of this.”

“Don’t worry, Joong, if you know (Y/n) like we do, she always sees the best in people, so she’ll forgive you. But you still have to apologize.” San followed up Mingi’s words, wrapping an arm around Hongjoong shoulders while giving a bright smile in response to his weak one.

“She’s my TA in Calc 3 and I have that class around noon tomorrow. She always stays after in case anyone has questions, so I can stall until you get there.” Yunho offered, Hongjoong feeling a slight warmth in his chest thinking about it all. He’d let go of his insecurities, fix everything he’s done wrong, and finally have you as his. Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

And tomorrow did come, but you were nowhere to be found. When Hongjoong arrived to Yunho’s class, he was met with a sympathetic apology on the account that you didn’t show up that day, you weren’t even at any of your other classes. The boys even tried to find you at work only to be met with a mob of your pissed coworkers led by Miyeon, threatening to rip their heads off if she saw their faces again. And that lasted for nearly 3 days, Hongjoong’s hope slowly dwindling away until he noticed two figures sneakily meeting halfway at the school’s entrance to exchange a large white cooler.

He recognized those bulky arms anywhere, and the thick Aussie accent was a dead giveaway as well, especially when it was followed by a distinct giggle. There was no mistaking it was Chan, but he could barely see the person with him, their voice low as they spoke to him and face hidden beneath a hood, but the scent emitting from them was strong, and beautiful, his eyes widening as he finally took it all in. You looked different, wearing a dark grey matching sweat suit which was a complete 180 from your usual attire, and you smelled faintly of passionfruit, possibly a change to your normal shampoo in an attempt to disguise yourself, but that thought only made his heart hurt more. Were you intentionally avoiding him? He could understand you hating him now but you were even ignoring the others in his pack, going from friends to complete strangers in a matter of hours and leaving them all devastated. He was going to fix this, here and now, if not for him and you than for his friends.

“Jongho’s been pretty upset about you not responding to his text. It’d really help if you stopped by to at least let him know you’re okay.” Chan pleaded, giving you a dimpled smile and hopeful gaze that made it impossible for you to hide your blushing face and grin.

“I just need a little more time, Chris. It’s like if you broke up with your mate and all the friends you made through her left you too. Except it’s me being broken up with by someone who was never my boyfriend and his friends came to me instead of me going to them. But, still, it hurts all the same.” You laughed slightly, trying to find some humor in the situation.

“You’re the only person that still calls me Chris.” He commented, trying to redirect the conversation as you clearly weren’t fine, neither of you noticing the burning glare just a few meters away.

“I just think it fits you best.” You admitted, neither of you breaking eye contact until you gasped, staring down to the box of food and drinks you bought.

“You should hurry to practice. You need to eat beforehand otherwise you’ll be weak after warmups alone. And I worked hard making those sandwiches and cutting that fruit, if it goes bad because you stayed here to cheer me up, I’ll really be mad.” You tried to put on your best scowl, your scolding undermined by his amused laughter.

“Alright, fine. Just stay safe, please?” You nodded, waving as you watched him turn to head to the school’s gymnasium, missing the way Chan glared at Hongjoong as he continued forward. Chan and Hongjoong’s packs were close, family almost, so the news of what Hongjoong did and why reached them in no time, and Chan was hoping today things would be fixed soon because, apart from you being the wrestling team’s beloved personal chef, you were like a sister to him.

You wasted no time leaving the campus behind, ready to go back into the darkness of your bedroom to forget you existed. You really wish you could disappear, that the ground would split beneath you and swallow you whole, but you couldn’t just leave when your phone was filled with calls and messages from friends and coworkers wondering where you were and if you were fine. So many people cared, what kind of person would you be to leave them all alone like this, especially when all they wanted was to help you? But being alone helped, trying to live life as normal as possible while adjusting to a Hongjoong-free lifestyle helped. It would take some time, but you’d find your normal someday. All you had to do was avoid-

“(Y/n)!” Your body froze.

He rarely called you by your name but his voice was distinct on its own, and it was the most sickly sweet thing you’ve ever heard. You wanted to run, to never have him see you like this. Dear god, how did you even look right now? You felt like shit, you probably looked the part. Dammit, Hongjoong was right all along, you were shit. You were worse than shit, you were just pathetic. A pathetic, lovestruck loser itching to just turn and say hi, to have the conversation you always dreamed of but you knew that wouldn’t happen. He’ll yell at you again. He’ll-

“(Y/n)? H-hi…” Hongjoong said shyly, standing right in front of you as you shrank into yourself.

His brows furrowed as you looked away, mentally arguing with yourself as you went over the days of self-reflecting you did, trying to find some lesson from your solitude to aid in this situation and it was starting to scare him. You were never quiet with him, you always had something to say even if it wasn’t important but, luckily, he had something important to say and hopefully you’d listen.

“I- T-the other day…. I w-was…. I-I’m sorry.” He stammered out, this confession a lot harder than he thought, especially now that you were facing him, eyes just as innocent as the day he met you, but he couldn’t run away this time.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, honestly. Everyone told me I was an idiot and I think they’re right. I treated you like you were garbage for years, all because I didn’t want to be mated so young. I just wanted to date around before I finally settled down with someone and, m-maybe I could’ve just said that, so you didn’t have to wait around for me all these years but, I never hated you, and I can’t hate you. I know you won’t forgive me right away but I think it’s only fair that I can be a good mate to you now.”

He swallowed hard, trying to suppress the desperate ‘please’ he wanted to add as your pupils began to shake, almost as if you were a machine malfunctioning, none of your self-reflecting preparing you for this moment, the only thing coming to mind being some sad blog article you found during your second day of isolation. ‘Forgiving and forgetting too soon is dangerous. Find yourself’. It wasn’t what you wanted but maybe what you need, what he needed. So, without hesitation, you smiled brightly at him although it never reached your eyes, clearing your throat as you tried to keep your voice steady.

“Hongjoong, I can’t forgive you easily. I waited for you, I tried to make you accept me and it always ended up with me getting hurt. Honestly, if I just treated you like a regular crush, maybe we could’ve forgotten we’re meant to be together until after graduation or something.” You laughed awkwardly, wanting to look away as his eyes softened in the saddest way, but you needed to do this, eyes locked on his as you exhaled through your nose.

“I couldn’t be by your side all the time, so whether you dated anyone is still a mystery to me but, I’ve been alone for seven years hoping you’d come around, and I think it’s time I take those years back. I’m not sure if what you said counted as a rejection or if we’re still mates but, if we are, we’ll come back to each other eventually. For now, I just need some time.”

You managed to walk past him without completely collapsing in tears, speed walking back to your apartment as you tried to swallow sobs, not even taking in the way Hongjoong stumbled to follow you, almost like a zombie as he attempted to plead for you to reconsider, to force himself to accept your decision but ask how long you needed, but he couldn’t do that. He tried to picture himself in your shoes, seven years of pining only to be publicly humiliated by the person you were meant to spend the rest of your life with. He couldn’t blame you for not forgiving him, and he sure as hell couldn’t force you, so he let you go, trudging in the opposite direction to his two story apartment just to hide in his bedroom until he didn’t feel like dying anymore.

But as more days passed and it only got harder for Hongjoong. He barely left his room but also never slept, every song he created was played in minor scales to fit his now melancholy life. The charisma he typically exuded was hidden with puffy red eyes from crying and a yellow knit sweater a few sizes too large for his body but it was the only thing that comforted him at this point, especially when knowing you had reconnected with everyone but him.

After exactly one week of distancing yourself from the world, you caved and meet with the boys individually (sans Hongjoong), apologizing for needing space although they completely understood, but the way each interaction ended made your guts churn with guilt. ‘Stay safe, luna’, that’s how all of them addressed you before they left, leaving you filled with the desire to return to how things were before. You missed your friends and, the fact your mate was finally ready to claim you, only made you want to forgive Hongjoong sooner. But you needed to be your own person for once. You had seven years worth of relationships to catch up on and you wouldn’t let them keep you from that.

Except when they did.

You should’ve known it was risky letting them know you had a date so soon, just some other human on campus that had yet found his soulmate. They sounded happy for you, Wooyoung going so far to ask where you met and where your date would be and what time, giving suggestions on what to say and wear since it was “your first”. It was a sweet gesture, and you thought nothing of it, but that information meant everything to him which led to now, the boys huddled together in their living room with a slightly paler and sickly looking Hongjoong curled into the corner of their loveseat.

“So they’re going bowling tonight at 8:30? We could ask her about it tomorrow in case she’s into him because hyung isn’t looking too great.” Yeosang commented, everyone looking to Hongjoong as he managed to drown his entire body within the sweater, only his head visible as he stared ahead like some lost puppy.

“He’s just weak from not being around her for so long, but their bond is still there so he’s fine. But we have nothing to worry about. She won’t fall in love with him so don’t get too involved, she’ll just stop talking to us again if we meddle too much.” Seonghwa warned, a chorus of ‘Okays’ confirming their dismissal as they all stood to retreat to their bedrooms.

“Wait, who is she going out with anyways? There’s only 10 other humans at that school.” Mingi’s question cause everyone to freeze, the silence in the room contrasting with the faint answer Woooyung gave in their mindlink, Hongjoong turning to look at him with hurt and pain.

“Why didn’t you say it was Yugyeom?!”

“I did! Just not to you, until now because I forgot to tune you out.” He said shyly, flinching as Hongjoong ran past him and right out their front door, none of them sure of what to do at that point.

It was such a minor yet major detail. Kim Yugyeom was admittedly the most wanted person any of them could think of. Human girls wanted him, werewolf girls wanted him, most guys couldn’t help but stare whenever he passed by. He was gorgeous with eyes that sparkled every time he smiled. He spoke about his soulmate with so much passion despite never meeting her, following his words with how he’d treat any girl before her with the same love and care. It was a pick up line meant to hook any hopelessly romantic girl in, the sweetest way to say their relationship wouldn’t last. But this was Kim Yugyeom, they knew it was only meant with good intentions, not wanting to string someone along with the false hope they’d be together forever. And that’s exactly what you needed. To explore while knowing you’d always come back to Hongjoong. But that’s not what Hongjoong wanted. He didn’t want you dating anyone else, finding temporary happiness when he was supposed to give you a lifetime of it. And humans were more flexible with their soulmates, they had the privilege to move one without the pain or withdrawals of losing their mate. Werewolves just died if they were rejected, heartbreak and loneliness consuming them, so there was no telling how your heart would react to someone exactly like you. Maybe you’ll fall in love with him. Maybe he’ll abandon his soulmate for you once he learns how amazing you are. Maybe Hongjoong would die from lack of food and sleep before he even reached your apartment, which he was still sprinting full speed towards. It was only 7:30pm, meaning he had an hour before you and Yugyeom went out, but he didn’t have a plan. He had no idea what he was doing, but he needed to stop you before you found yourself in love with someone else.

It was like some scene in a drama, Hongjoong’s chest heaving as he finally came to a stop just outside your apartment. His body felt like giving out as he climbed the two flights of stairs to your door, only to find you waving shyly to Yugyeom just as he turned away, trying not to lock eyes with Hongjoong but Hongjoong’s eyes were only trained on you, yours finding his as a panicked look crossed your face. Should you look away? Go back inside? What was he even doing there? You never told the boys your address… You gasped as he approached you, swallowing hard as you tried to remain calm, but how could you stay calm when you finally got a good look at him?

“Oh my god, are you okay?” You didn’t hesitate to ask, stepping further from your door to examine him, reaching for his face only to stumble back to your original position. You were making great progress, you can’t do that now.

“I’ve been better, but even then I wasn’t fine.” He said with a dry chuckle, your lips curling into a fake smile to not show how much his appearance affected you. He looked like he was on the brink of death. You knew wolves would get sick without their mates, but was it really killing him? Were you killing him?

“Joongi-Uhm, Hongjoong, how about you sit down? You look like you’re going to faint.” You offered, stepping back to allow him inside, watching him stumble past you and straight to your sofa as if he owned the place.

It was such an awkward moment for you, watching the poor boy curl into himself as his sweater practically became his body, a sigh leaving your lips as you shut your door. Instead of healing yourself, you had to heal him. It was oddly pitiful but your instincts screamed at you to do it.

Hongjoong shut his eyes as he eased into your sofa, feeling more comfortable than he was in his own home, even more so with your scent invading his senses, your body warmth radiating onto his as you carefully took a seat, trying to figure out what to do.

“Do you need food, or water? Or a doctor?” You asked, the giggle he let out this time weak but still enough to make your heart beat a bit faster.

“I just need you near me.” He admitted.

You let out a squeak as he shamelessly fell into your lap, head comfortably resting against your thighs as he laid face up. You couldn’t stop your hand from easing through his unnaturally colored locks, melting at how soft they were, bottom lip trapped under your teeth as you had to fight off the desire to cup his face. You’ve never gotten this close to him and he wasn’t telling you to go away, instead letting out content purrs as he nuzzled closer to you, your eyes burning with unshed tears. Why couldn’t he just want you from the start? You’d would’ve been able to hold him like this all the time, to see him happy and healthy rather than a shell of his former self. But he didn’t want you, and now he was at your apartment just to keep himself from dying. It was silly to think he cared about you as much as he did himself.

“Of course you do.” You whispered, laughing bitterly as your hand left his hair, moving to his arm to ease him back up into a sitting position.

You couldn’t get past him no matter how hard you tried, nor did you want to, but every word he said, everything he’s done, followed you like a ghost haunting some poor unsuspecting soul. Why did you have to love someone who didn’t love you the same? Why was this your life?

“Can you just hold me a little longer? P-please?” He asked with a cute whine to his voice.

You sighed and grabbed his arm, gently pulling him back into his previous position, fingers massaging his scalp as he finally opened his eyes to look at you. You were beautiful, even with the frown lines etched into your face. He wonder how long they’ve been there, especially when he’s only seen you smiling. Maybe you spent your alone time more upset than he thought. Where you upset before he came? You couldn’t be when Yugyeom was here, no one could be upset with him around. Except Hongjoong. He felt a grudge building inside him just from the mere thought of him with you. He felt like interrogating you on what he was doing here in the first place and why you gave your address out to just anyone, but it wasn’t his place to ask and probably wouldn’t be for a while, but jealousy and rage was all he felt so any reasonable thinking was thrown out the window.

“I don’t want you to see Yugyeom anymore.” He said definitely, your eyes widened as you stared at him incredulously, an amused giggle leaving your lips.

“That’s not for you to choose, Hongjoong. I told you I need time-“

“Those seven years you’ve been waiting I couldn’t be with anyone else. I always compared every girl I met to you and none of them came close to being as perfect, now I have to watch you date some dance major with pretty eyes because I was an insecure dumbass? He has a soulmate, and he’s always going to choose them no matter how much you like each other, so why not save your feelings? I’ll wait as long as you want me to, but just don’t fall in love with anyone else.”

You tried so hard to hide your smile. This wasn’t something you typically liked, possessive guys being on the list of things you found annoying, but considering it was Hongjoong, his soft eyes hard and sharp as their hue seemed to go pitch black as his words were both sweet and demanding, made you fall in love just a little more than you already were. You wanted to take this as his confession, as a truce in your previous one-sided enemyship, to tell him that you told Yugyeom you couldn’t go out with him because you could only see yourself with Hongjoong, but you needed time. Not time to date and explore the way you thought he had, but to watch him work as hard as you did to prove he was ready and willing to love you. It was a little malicious, sure, but it was all in good fun. He’d always be your mate after all.

“I don’t know, Hongjoong, you really hurt me…”

“It hurt knowing I wasn’t with you.” Your smile cracked through, causing his own to appear, your game already over.

“And how do you think I felt? You think you can make up seven years worth of waiting so easily?”

You squealed as he shot up, magically seeming more alive than when he arrived, eyes full of life and his lips and cheeks the same rosy color as when you met him, hands warm and soft as he cupped your face.

“Good thing I have forever to do it.”

The silence was comfortable but unbearable, especially as he hesitated to lean closer, your lips puckering to guide him but he didn’t seem to be catching on and, when he did, you shifted back, laughing awkwardly as you stared at one another, both of you taking a deep breath as you finally closed the gap between you, a weird electric sensation you could only dream of as your lips slowly grew accustom to one another, moving so slow yet feeling so urgent. It was all still new to the both of you, romance and dating only now becoming part of your lives, but it was exciting knowing that you had years ahead of you to perfect it, your entire lives dedicated to loving one another. And it only took a seven year crush to get you here.

#ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #kim hongjoong imagines #ateez au #kim hongjoong au #ateez werewolf au #ateez soulmate au #kim hongjoong scenarios #kim hongjoong reactions #kim hongjoong fluff #kim hongjoong angst #kim hongjoong werewolf au #kim hongjoong soulmate au #kim hongjoong fanfic #ateez fanfic #im-whatchamccallit

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uponrightful · 3 years

Note

Hi! I’ve just finished Welcome Company-it was so good, your writing is amazing! I have a question about one of the last scenes if that’s OK? Partly about Pups point of view, because a lot of what happened to her post Order 66 is clearly in her mind, but seems to read differently emotionally later if that makes sense? I’d also like to know why you decided to include the scene of Pup having to fight one last time. -RebelMedic99

“Wolffe! Please!” She sobbed through the pain and fear, whimpering when the kid pulled her own arm around her throat, locking in a chokehold she was unable to break from. He laughed dryly in her ear, yanking on her broken wrist to elicit another scream.

“He’s not coming back you little slut.” He fell into another fit of laughter, “And even if he did you’ll be so used he won’t even want to look at you.” His evil words cut right through her. She was already broken, and yet another piece was about to be taken, and smashed on the floor right in front of her. She felt the pain of his remarks, feeling just as useless as he’d appraised.

She wanted to fight anyways.

The pain in her wrist didn’t subside, but it wasn’t going to stop until she got his filthy hands off her. And without that blaster, she really didn’t have a chance at getting off the ship, or keeping the ship safe until Wolffe got back. She struggled to keep her breath even, fighting to pull her broken wrist out of his grasp so she could get free.

Think fast…

Get him off guard…

“You really want me?” She choked out, wincing from the abrasive words cutting at her tongue. If he was that young, there was a chance he’d fall for it and drop the -hopefully- act long enough for her to grab the upper hand.

“You’re a fucking slut! Already turning towards the closest man you can get in your pants!” He snarled, yanking her wrist again. The girl held back her cry, again repeating the question for him, praying it would make a bigger impact this time.

“I’ll behave. I promise.” She faked convincingly enough through her tears. The kid’s grip faltered just for a second before retaining its unflinching need to inflict pain again. Yet, by miracle, he released her wrist and stepped back with the blaster dropped down at his side. Miraculously, his anger suddenly disappeared, and a look of disbelief came over him.

“Pick me.” He ordered harshly, as she turned to face him.

Everything moved so quickly.

Commentary Track for Welcome Company

Copy 500 words -or more- of any of my fics and I’ll give my thoughts/rambles on what was going through my head -or the character’s- when I wrote it!

*send one in here*

This one is challenging, but we'll see if I can explain it without sounding like a complete dumbass... 😅

***

We'll start with addressing her emotional shift towards Order 66 first, and that will help set up the reasoning why she had this "last stand" at the end. (This won't be from her POV, it'll make things a little simpler.)

Pup's true knowledge of what Order 66 is comes in small bits and pieces after she flees Coruscant. It's obvious right away that something changed, but it's not for a really long time that she finds out that there might be something "unwilling" about the whole situation. In this time frame -of a couple years- she's actually left to her own devices and thought-process to make sense of it all. And a couple of years can really take a toll on someone's perception of what is really going on.

There is talk of manipulation, and how 'robotic' the clones are. All of it culminating in a bunch of half-assed theories as to why they suddenly have this unbending will for the Empire when they fought for the Republic for so long. (The bar fight Wolffe was in, is where I tried to explore this a little bit with the Cerean.) But Pup only hears rumors, and those weak excuses aren't enough to dissuade her fear of seeing troopers again. Because ultimatley, there are hundreds of them who'd been to her home, and in her mind, it's possible that they could come after her and punish her for that. It's not a realistic fear, but if you combine it with her last experience with a clone, it's one that would easily create a serious emotional trigger.

I meant for it to be a tad bit confusing when reading her emotions. Pup wants to love the clones -and she still does- but seeing one of them in real life would be fucking terrifying. Their sweet memories are always there, and she does her best to only think of those. However it's easy to be reminded of why she can't still see them, when she's living on a backwater planet to try and reassure herself that she'll never have to risk seeing a clone again. Because all of the love that they'd given her -in her mind- is completely gone the second she's shot by one.

And her entire being is damaged assuming that Wolffe is no different than the rest of them. Pup knows all the clones are acting this way, and Wolffe is really no exception. So even though she loves him dearly it's really scary when she sees him for the first time after all these years. Is he safe? Is there something still wrong with him? Does he want to take her with him, back to the Empire? These are all questions she has, because she's never seen a clone after Order 66 without a functioning chip.

The reason her change of heart is so sudden, is because Pup didn't let go of the good memories she had of her troopers. That integral part of her character is to forgive and be patient -even if she's been damaged by something or someone. Yes, she keeps it bottled up. But that was because she couldn't get rid of her base traits. You can't wholly change your personality very easily, and Pup never really wanted to in the first place. She was just forced to create this harder persona so she could survive. Then after Wolffe comes back, and he's painstakingly careful in trying to prove that he's not under influence any longer, it makes that desire to care for him -like she's always had- come back much smoother.

(It's a continuity error that I never gave a proper scene dedication to it; But I did have a draft that included an Order 66 conversation with Rex and Pup during that scene in Chapter 14.)

I chose not to include it because I wanted someone to focus on Pup's traumas faced during the transition period of planet-hopping. It might sound cruel of me to not include his struggles, but they've been covered so many times in other fics, that I gave the assumption my "Initial Implementation" scene and "Chip Removal Scene" would be emotionally sympathetic and exploratory enough of how Wolffe felt during and after, without needing to express it to you directly. Not to mention, after Pup and Wolffe are reunited, she's not stupid enough to not infer that it was against his will. She quite frequently notes throughout that his guilty looks and hesitancy to make physical contact with her are very noticeable and telling of how he feels about his time with the Empire.

All of this said, now her fight scene:

Right before they leave the cabin, she's feeling a little loss of home. But really, Pup never had too much of an attachment to her house on Takodana in the first place. What's really getting her emotional at this point is the realization that she finally has Wolffe back. It's security she's wanted this whole time, and although the boys aren't letting her help with the bounty, she's willing to do whatever they want because she understands that they've got the experience here. Plus, she's really not physically able to do a whole lot after her slight hypothermia exposure.

I wanted her weak for this: Emotionally, physically, mentally. It had to be that way for a reason.

Until this point, Pup hasn't ever shown a real motivation to fight for anything, other than making the trip to the outpost to save her friend. BUT. That's risking herself to save someone else. Pup has never done anything for her own benefit, without it being equally helpful for someone else. Even when she got Wolf, it wasn't just for herself. Iahcen was getting something out of it as well.

I know it's cliche, but her last moments alone on that ship waiting was where her character development needed to reach and end. Because I made the overarching plot of fighting for love, but I needed that same lesson to be learned in-story, as well to round it out. It had to be Pup, because she's been running this whole time. Wolffe can't learn it, because he's been fighting the entire time.

The kid is a symbol of kindness not being returned. This is key, because Pup has always been nice -even when she didn't need to be. And he attacks her for that. He comes in as the tool to show her that being kind doesn't always work; And sometimes you have to stand against something, instead of running or letting someone run over her. I also made certain to have the kid attack Wolffe's character. This was essential, because Pup has nothing else she wants to fight for. Wolffe has always been her one essential thing, and he was what made her realize that being a little selfish and desiring something isn't a bad thing. This kid is a product of her sympathetic nature, and he's willingly insulting and threatening her chance at having the one thing Pup has always wanted.

Pup needed fight or flight, and the only time her 'fight mode' kicks in, is when she realizes there's something she wants. On Coruscant, she had nothing, so she ran. Pup wanted to live for Wolffe, in the hopes that he might still be alive, and that was the first time her fight response kicked in. Then her friend was in danger of dying, that was the second time she chose to fight.

Her love and security in Wolffe was being threatened, and that was Pup's final character development, and why she needed this fight scene without Wolffe -or anyone else's assistance- in the matter.

***

I hope this wasn't garbage 😅 and I explained it decently... If not, please let me know. I'll do anything I can to answer your questions!

Much Love, Rightful 🤍

#commentary track #welcome company #commander wolffe #Pup #uponrightful #uponrightfulwrites

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orangegreet · 3 years

Text

No Minor Miracles | Chapter 10

In the End, In the Beginning

In which we get a jail break and some deaths and some light and some life and maybe the end of the world.

The shrieking cries of the volcra overhead melted into the drumming of hooves across the earth.

All of it, loud and incessant and completely cancelled out by the pulse of blood pounding in his head. The circling thoughts that spurred him forward.

He is going to kill me in the morning. She had said.

Aleksander had never seen her look frail. Not in his memory.

The Grisha slaver bar that kept her powerless, kept the wrath of her Sun at bay, flashed through his mind again.

Fucking cowards. The Darkling pushed his horse harder. Faster.

The Shadows of the Fold reached for him as he passed just as worshippers extended hands of blessing for their Saint.

Behind him, Ivan and Fedyor urged their horses forward, almost falling out of the dome of Light he held overhead.

It had been easy this time—effortless really, to call the Light up from within himself. As if Alina herself had searched through his cupboards and produced it for him with a gentle smile.

Alina. His Alina. His person.

Held captive by a megalomaniac. A fucking degenerate otkazat’sya scum who would sacrifice every Grisha life in Ravka to gain a fraction of power.

Zlatan would soon learn true power. Would see and know it intimately as the force of his Darkness crushed Zlatan’s bones from the inside.

The horses were huffing but none of them faltered their gait. Aleksander was grateful. Fedyor had chosen well.

His Heartrenders had not questioned him when they learned Alina was in trouble and he would be going across the Fold to get her. Feydor left immediately to prepare the horses and Ivan, after a long look at his General, proceeded to delegate duties to the next in command.

It had not slipped Aleksander’s notice that Ivan would elect to follow his General into the Fold deferring his right to become the acting General of the Second Army. As was his rightful succession.

Ivan had scowled for the duration of the preparations which effectively relieved Aleksander of the urge to thank him.

The Darkling lowered his brow, narrowing his eyes as they neared what must be the middle of the Fold. A white stone building was crumbling on his right and the mirroring of events was painful to recognize—the way history often did repeat itself.

He had lived long enough to see that the adage was true.

A woman he loved, killed for fear of what she was, for fear of Aleksander himself, by a power-hungry individual trying to stamp out any threats to his reign.

Only now it felt like a chance to do it all again. To change it all; to rescue and to fix instead of fail and destroy.

It would be different this time. This was Alina. She, a Sun Summoner, an immortal like him and a woman who was stronger and more powerful than anyone could imagine.

A woman whom he had crushed mercilessly just a few weeks before.

Not for the first time since he had met Alina did Aleksander curse his own pride.

This might not have happened had he been able to come to terms with everything she had done and just forgiven her in that fucking cell. Forgiven her on the journey through the Fold.

Not left her alone in a field. Not buried her under the weight of his disappointment.

Had he not learned this lesson from years of experiencing the same treatment from Baghra? Another immortal who would use her years and her influence to leverage pain and guilt over him—shame him into doing as she wished? Into feeling the weight of her expectations with an unyielding rigidity?

Could he not have at least given her something to hold onto—something that said, I am angry and I am hurt but I am yours all the same?

No, instead he had crushed Alina and sent her back into the arms of a Grisha-loathing Secessionist to play spy. Fucked with her head and her heart and expected her to recover fine.

Expected her to be stoic in her duties and not slip up. As if he had been able to keep his head after their every encounter. He was a fucking fool.

They were so alike, he and Alina. In hindsight, her reasoning and her motives and decisions all seemed remarkably easy to understand.

He had been bitter at her for shutting him out. Hurt at her apparent lack of trust that she would not confide in him. It was fair that he should feel that way and yet, would he not have done the same?

Had their years been reversed, had it been Aleksander who was so fresh and new to the world, would he not have hungered and grasped for his own independence?

Alina did not want to need him anymore than he wanted to need her. He could not fault her for her actions—not for long anyway.

When he removed himself from the torturous back and forth they had both endured and inflicted on each other the last several years, Aleksander could not deny the plain truth before him: Alina was his match in every sense of the word.

Alina was and would always be the only one who could meet the depth of his power and counter it. Descend into the cavernous pain he carried and draw him out of it. Climb to the heights of his passion and somehow drive him higher.

It might be cosmic or ancient or fated by the Saints but even outside of all that, Aleksander simply wanted her. Alina. His Alina. Just as she was.

Aleksander wanted her very soul for himself and he would tie their Light and Dark together more completely than any paltry tether if given the chance again.

He is going to kill me in the morning.

He pushed his horse forward.

The city was eery in it’s quiet.

Aleksander shrouded their party of three in shadow as they trotted through the streets. His eyes were sharp but half of his focus was on the pull of the tether, guiding them closer to Alina.

He had zero intention of visiting her friends, despite her requests. Getting to her himself was far more important. Still, he slowed as they were nearing the place he knew they had held him weeks before.

“I fucking knew it! You will pay, Darkling.” A voice shouted from his left and he raised a fine blade of darkness only to feel that clenching in his chest once more. That blood thickening, heart seizing clutch of a Heartrender.

Aleksander growled at the spasm and the screaming Heartrender emerged from an alley. Ivan immediately used the same technique against her and Aleksander was free from the thrall once more. Fedyor sat on his own horse, working to restore his General.

“Stupid girl! He did not do this.” Baghra said, joining the fray from her hiding spot. “Stop. All of you!” She demanded, grabbing the Heartrender from the ground where she had crumpled under Ivan’s will.

The Darkling snarled at them both as he darkened the street with his irritation and shadows sloughed off of him in billowing sheets.

“Good. You’re making this quite easy then.” He said through clenched teeth.

He gripped his reins and cricked his neck to keep from killing both of them and barked out Alina’s message, “Alina is being held captive by Zlatan. She said he knows she is the Sun Summoner and asked me to warn you.”

Aleksander turned his gaze on his mother, growling the words at her, “Your Sun Summoner held captive by the man you traded her to in the first place.”

He glared at her. His thoughts screaming at her. Was this a better life for her, mother? Do you believe I would have done worse to her—worse to the world than terror Zlatan intends to unleash now?

He wanted to ask it. To make her hurt. To make her regret. There wasn’t time.

The reins were tight in his hands and he could not help the added insult he bit off as he left. “Do what you will with that news, you glorified Grisha slavers.”

Picking up his reins, he kicked his horse back into motion and continued through the streets.

“Darkling! Stop!” They called after him. Aleksander did not heed them. Alina called to him in the night and he would not give them another second of wasted time.

“Follow him then, you fools! He knows where she is!” Baghra’s voice echoed up the street. The sound of hooves followed and he knew they would not be far behind.

Aleksander tracked Alina all the way to a mansion on the wealthy end of the capital.

Ivan and Fedyor flanked him on either side as they dismounted. His gaze flicked to the people they now had in tow.

The dark haired woman he recognized as the Heartrender who tried to knock him out again. Next to her was large man and behind them stood four others, unknown to him and irksome merely in their culpability of Alina’s engagement and enslavement.

“I assume you are here because you are loyal to Alina.” He said with a clipped edge.

The woman’s eyes narrowed at him but she nodded.

“Very well. Seeing as I don’t know how many people we can expect inside, it would be foolish not to work together.”

They looked uneasy and the Darkling growled at them, his barely controlled rage spewing from his hands as his shadows blanketed around their ankles, “In case you are missing something, Alina is to be executed in the morning by Zlatan. I’m certain she is inside that home at this very moment and I will not waste time fighting the Grisha who put her there.”

He twitched his fingers and his shadows tightened around their calves. The Darkling watched with a sick grin on his face as they lurched in place.

“We are not following you, Darkling. We will get her out ourselves.” The woman said, pulling her leg free.

“I don’t think you will.” His voice was quiet and dangerous now. Ivan and Fedyor stood to behind him, preparing for a fight. “It was you who gave her to Zlatan in the first place. You’re the reason she is in there now.”

A few of the members shifted guiltily and the Darkling barked at them again, “How long since she lost contact with you?”

A few of them jumped but the Heartrender simply glared at him.

“A little over a week.” The man beside her said.

Aleksander growled at them, condemning them once more. “Reckless. Sloppy pieces of shit.”

“We will fight alongside you, Darkling. Tonight we will.” The man said. The woman glared at the ground but nodded.

Aleksander scrutinized them, loosening his shadows and forcing himself to turn away from them. “Alina is being held underground. Kill anyone who gets in your way but hear this—Zlatan is mine.”

Zlatan was not home.

Or, at least, those were the last words the guard could squeeze out of his throat before the Darkling snapped his neck.

It felt different to kill with his hands. Different wrap his fingers around a throat and twist. Different to physically touch the skin of someone as their life force abandoned their body. Still, it was the only thing that satisfied on this night.

The place had been crawling with First Army soldiers. West Ravkan soldiers, as they preferred to be called. He and his Heartrenders and his borrowed Grisha army had swarmed the home like a plague and he winded his way toward the back of the house, looking for access to the basement.

Underground. He knew she was underground.

“General!” Ivan called from the next room over. Aleksander entered the small parlor where Ivan was unceremoniously shifting a corpse across the floor and lifting the rug from the edge of the room.

A hatch.

The Darkling lifted it and grasped a lantern from the wall.

“Find Fedyor.” He said to Ivan as he began to descend the stairs into the floor, “I will get Alina and we will set out for the Fold again.”

Ivan hesitated by the door.

“Fedyor, Ivan. Find him first. Then we will go together.” Ivan nodded and left.

When he found her, she was asleep.

Beautiful, even with dark circles under her eyes and a pallor to her skin. Both of which had little to do with captivity or starvation and everything to do with the fact that she was an extremely powerful Grisha forced to suppress her power.

Aleksander gingerly lifted the slaver bar, extending her arms out in front of her and laying the bar on the ground.

He conjured the Cut and sliced through one end, as close as he dared cut near her wrist. He took a breath and severed the other side.

Aleksander tucked his arms beneath hers and pulled her into his lap, her head lolling back against his shoulder as his hands met around her stomach.

“Alina.” He said in her ear. A kiss to her cheek. Another to her hair.

“Wake up, solnyshka. You are freed.” Alina stirred in his arms and, with little ceremony, he brought her hands together, forcing her to conjure the tiniest amount of Light. Hoping to feed her a little before they had to move again.

The chamber around them was forced into relief, putting the little gas lantern to shame.

Her eyes fluttered and Alina sighed, sinking into him. Her back pressed into his chest. “You’re here.”

Her forehead fell against his jaw and he could not help the way he held her face there, whispering a silent prayer of gratitude to the Saints for this moment. For her voice and her Light and her life. That she was not gone from him.

When his prayer was done he whispered more words to her. “I’m sorry, Alina. I am so sorry, my love, my Star.”

Her hand caressed his jaw and he nuzzled her in return. Her silence now assuredly attributed to her fatigue as opposed to malice for him. “Come along, we will help get you out.”

And then, to his added relief, “General!” Ivan and Fedyor emerged. Fedyor, clutching his side but otherwise smiling at the sight of Alina and her Light and the way she was sitting up in the arms of the General.

“If the Sun Summoner is able, we must move. They are calling in others now. We cannot face many more soldiers tonight.” Ivan advised.

Aleksander nodded, pushing from his legs into standing and bringing Alina with him.

Her thin, white shift snagged against the buckles of his kefta and with a sharp pang he remembered how she had clasped them together herself in the dacha.

How she had dressed him in his black kefta and his traveling cloak and her hands had smoothed the core cloth and then she had begged him to run away with her.

“Ivan. Come hold her up for a moment.”

Aleksander removed his kefta and threaded her arms through the sleeves. His fingers worked quickly on the clasps and when she was covered in the warm black shield, the only protection he could give to her right now, he lifted her into his arms.

The other Grisha, her ‘friends’ were waiting by the exit. At the sight of her, it looked as if they would reach for her. Expect him to turn her over to them.

The Darkling practically hissed at them, holding her away from them, but it was Ivan who was done with it all.

“Out. Everyone. More are coming. Get to the horses and disperse. They cannot chase us all.”

Everyone dispersed, the woman with a lingering glance at Alina. The three men hurried to their horses and the other Grisha to theirs, quick and silent in their movements.

They had just mounted, the General adjusting his posture in the saddle as Ivan lifted Alina into his arms, when the unmistakeable sound of a dozen horses echoed through the streets.

The General looked at Fedyor, hunched on his horse and waiting for Ivan to join him—he would need assistance on horseback with his injury. Ivan and the General locked eyes.

“Go. Get a head start. We can handle them.” Ivan said.

Aleksander almost protested and then Ivan had slapped his horse on the haunches with a firm hit and Alina jolted in his arms as his horse took off down the city streets.

The pursuit was something of a blur.

The West Ravkan soldiers followed them through the streets, tracking them until they reached the edges of town. Aleksander and Alina were saved more than once by the help of a Tidemaker or Squaller who was hidden in plain sight and ready to impede the pursuing enemy.

He was glad for it as he felt helpless to do much else at the moment. Alina seemed so precarious in his arms and he wondered if they had not done more to her in captivity than prevent her from using her Light.

Wondered if they had performed experiments on her. Bled her and drained her. She should not be so frail from a week of captivity. Not his Sun.

Still, they were nearing the Fold now and Aleksander would need his hands to gather Light if they were going to cross.

“Alina, please. If you can, sit up and lean against me. I need your help to get through the Fold.” Alina stirred, her eyes flickering again.

“‘M sorry.” Feebly, she brushed her hands against each other and sighed as she illuminated everything around them. Like the burst of a dawning Light she lit up their location and Aleksander panicked.

“No! Alina! Stop!”

She did not know. Could not know what she had done. Horses gathering in force sounded behind them, locked on their location now and Aleksander pushed his own horse hard toward the safety of his creation.

The blight he left on the earth. The thing which he meant to protect him and all Grisha would now have to protect him and his Sun.

History would not repeat itself. He would not let her die tonight.

“The Sun Summoner!” He heard the shouting echo across the field even as they neared the black curtain. True dawn was breaking on the horizon. The reddish glow mixing with her bright white.

Aleksander tucked Alina further into his chest, holding her with the frame of his arms and she was finally waking up.

“Sasha. Where are we going?” Her eyes opened, the black Shadow Fold billowing across their vision.

“Oh good. I do like it in there.” She said, absently, “It’s like being covered in you. So familiar. Always so familiar. Even before I ever met you, going into it was like being home.”

Alina sounded delirious now and Aleksander wanted to cry. He swallowed it down and answered her.

“Yes. We are going into the Fold now. I might need your help to Light it—I don’t have my hands free.”

Alina nodded, squeezing his thigh in response and Aleksander heard another set of hooves drawing closer.

“Now Alina!”

Alina conjured her Light and the dome put his to shame. It was broad and beautiful and white, splitting the curtain of the Fold as they entered.

The Light was too big. Too bright. Others had joined them under the dome.

Aleksander urged the horse faster but he knew it was long tired from their long evening.

“Alina, please, pull your Light in just a little.” He urged.

It was useless. Alina’s hands were no longer touching and her Light shone from her anyway. Persistent. Bright.

Her consciousness was wavering and the Light brightened and he could not tell if he was adding to it or not.

“Sun Summoner! Halt!”

Gunfire. His horse faltered. Aleksander looked around frantically but realized it was only a graze to the flank. His horse was good, strong, used to battle and gunfire. It carried on.

Darkling! I know you’re in there! The voices from the past echoed in his head and he knew they were not there and history would not be repeated on this night.

Aleksander could not bring his hands together though. He was terrified Alina would fall and their horse would slow down and all would be lost again.

They neared the center of the Fold. He could feel the pull of the creation point. It called to him. More than it ever had before. A persistent tug on his tether. The same tug he felt when Alina called to him.

Perhaps something in the Making at the Heart of the World was rooted into the Fold as well. Perhaps creation simply echoed from this very spot.

The beginning of time, the creation of the earth, the creation of the Fold.

Perhaps it all centered here in this magnetic pull and out of it’s gravity, Alina and Aleksander were born. Shadow and Light. Magnetic poles arrived to stabilize an otherwise wavering world. Arrived to hold everything and everyone in balance.

More gunfire. “You are still my betrothed, Sun Summoner!” Zlatan was with them, taunting them.

Here’s the little witch who’s been stitching him back together. Aleksander shook his head, willing the words away.

Adrenaline was spiking and Aleksander looked helplessly up at the white Light overhead and brought his hands together to conjure the shadows. He tried to direct them and felt Alina slip a few inches in his grasp, her feet lolling dangerously around the front legs of their horse. A few more inches and she would impede his gait. Would pull them all down.

“Fuck.” He cursed, anxiety mixing into his fear as he clutched Alina by the stomach and pulled her back up.

“The Black General! Did you see the shadows. That’s the General of the Second Army!”

“Are you intending to kidnap my fiancée, General?!” Zlatan shouted behind them.

Stand down, Grisha! The white stone building illuminated beneath the dome as it had not been illuminated in centuries. So bright he could not look at it directly.

Darkling! I know you’re in there!

More gunfire and this time a bullet found his back. He lurched and clutched Alina to him, willing her to hold on in case he lost his grip. Willing her to be hidden completely from their range. Shield her with himself.

The horse was slowing. The graze from before was bleeding profusely now. More than a graze evidently. Blood was spilling heavy down the buckles of the saddle.

“Sasha?” Alina questioned. His hands brushed over the black kefta he had covered her in, bulletproof and safe.

History would not repeat itself.

Another shot. Their horse was trotting and the enemy was upon them, just yards away as the beast came to a stop. As it kneeled.

He and Alina rolled to the side, hidden behind the safety of their horse. The horse who was giving it’s life for them.

Aleksander was growing cold. Shock. Bullets in his back. Bullets in his side.

He looked at her. His Light. His love. Bullet now lodged in his stomach. That was the one that was killing him.

He peaked over the top of the horse. His eyes caught on the anxious West Ravkan General who kept one eye on the wavering Light overhead. One last act. Aleksander could do this for his love. One last act to show her no one would dare hurt her on his watch.

He lifted himself to kneel. His arms sweeping out from his sides and gathered the lingering Shadow—it was waiting—ready to do his bidding. One last dark deed. The thin blade was formed so quickly. Aleksander released it.

The surge of victory at watching the head and shoulders of Zlatan detach from his body filled his chest and warmed him even as he watched Zlatan’s soldiers stagger their horses away from the mess in horror. Those men did not matter.

She was safe. He had done what he should. History would not repeat itself on this night. Aleksander was so tired. He could not reform the Cut if he tried.

“Aleksander?”

Alina looked more awake. He was relieved. Finally, she was bouncing back. Too late for him but early enough for herself. To save herself. Everything would be okay for her. That was what he wanted.

A better world for her. She would lead it.

“Alina?” She looked at him and he realized he had seen this look before. Only, he didn’t remember until now.

“I am having the strangest sense of déjà vu.” He said.

Tears were slipping out of her eyes and he was watching her and he felt certain now that he had seen this all before. A snowy battlefield, flecked with blood.

“What are you doing?” She asked. She tried to pull his face up to hers. A Fjerdan wolf dead beside him and Alina yelling at him on the other.

“What are you doing? Stop. No. You said—not again. Please.” Aleksander watched her eyes close and her face was pinched in pain and it hurt to see her hurt. She had called him weak, weak for leaving her. For dying.

“Don’t cry, solnyshka. You will be safe and that is what matters. You will make the world safe for all of our people.” His hand touched her cheek.

Zlatan’s men had not come close and he could only assume it was for fear that she would rescind the Light or fear he would send another blade of shadow. His mouth tasted like bile and tinged with the metallic taste of blood.

“You have the advantage in here, Alina. The Fold is a place only you can conquer.” He smiled and it was almost whimsical in nature. “It was made from me, after all. You were made to conquer me, were you not, little Star?”

Alina hiccuped a laugh and grimaced at the pain in her weakened body.

“Don’t leave me, Sasha.” She said and he frowned at the sign of defeat in her shoulders. His own eyes filled with tears. He had done this with her before.

“I do not want to, Alinochka.” He whispered and his vision was blackening and only had a few moments to say what he wanted. “You have inspired me, Alina. Made my life good. You will inspire everyone. Do not doubt it.”

Her mouth kissed his and he saw blood on her lips when she pulled away. “Please, Sasha. I cannot go on without you.”

Their tether was sizzling and splitting in his chest, itching to burst forth.

Aleksander was dying. “I’ll find you in the after, Alina. I swear it.”

Her hands were shaking.

They trembled as she touched his face.

His features were slack, no quirked brow, no glare for her. No devious, cunning smirk.

No breathless, open smile, as if he just realized he was caught staring.

Instead she smoothed her quaking hands over his cheeks, pulling him fully into her lap.

The horse at her back took a shuddering breath. It too, was dying. Would be dead in another minute.

Zlatan’s men were there. They were still yelling. That much registered in a distant back room of her brain but then she closed the door.

Everything was muffled.

A tiny pinprick of light illuminated them now. It was small and Alina felt it dying out inside herself, growing dimmer with a smothering loss.

The men moved to stand closer than she would like, their exit from the Fold far too far away to survive on their own.

She did not look at them. They did not move toward her, their fear of the volcra kept their eyes turned up.

It was possible to pull him back. Aleksander. She could bring him back.

She had done it once. Reforged the broken tether and tied his life back to hers. They were Inevitable. One would not exist without the other—not while she was around to ensure it.

He was dying and she was suddenly reaching desperately for their tether. Their lifeline. She forced it to the surface, the fractured electric thing barely connected to their chests. A sliver of light held onto his body.

She wrapped his limp hand around the tether and covered it with her own.

Together they ventured into the abyss. Into the Making at the Heart of the World. That place that belonged to them alone.

Only—

Aleksander was just as lifeless here. His eyes were still closed and she could not feel his breathing.

Alina felt herself beginning to panic. Anxiety and panic and chemicals in her brain lighting her up with a dying surge of energy.

She poured into him all the Light she contained. Drove her beams into his chest over and over and over. Could not explain why she was doing it. It made no sense. She was no healer and maybe her Light would only drive his Shadow farther and farther away from her.

But, it could only be them. It could not be one without the other.

Where Light traveled, Shadow was compelled to follow and she will not allow him to abandon in his duty.

Not now.

Nothing was happening and as her Light surged, the abyss itself began to fade around them.

Quite suddenly, they were back into their pocket of the Fold and those insignificant West Ravkan soldiers were still surrounding them. Crowded close. Terrified that her light would blink out completely and the volcra would descend.

Alina clutched for their tether again. Nothing but the frayed end of rope was returned. Spitting and hissing electricity like a live wire.

Nothing to ground her anymore. Nothing to hold her to the earth. Nothing to balance her out.

Hemorrhaging Light filled up inside of her chest.

Aleksander was gone. She was alone.

In the beginning, Light had joined Darkness. In the end, Darkness had left the Light and all this debating she had done over whether or not to end the world and start over was so silly.

It had never been a choice. A path she could choose to take or not to take.

Alina was alone and the wrongness of it was impossible to overcome. This was not choice. This was Inevitable.

In the end, Light would shine bright enough to blind all of creation. Blind everyone and everything and nothing would be seen but Darkness. Beautiful, glorious Darkness.

In the end it was not a choice that she made.

In the ending, this was as Inevitable as they had been.

Alina stared at the soft, blank face of her love, lost to her in the here and now.

Saint Alina, Sun Summoner and Mother of the West looked up toward the sky.

She opened her mouth and let loose an unholy wail.

White hot Light burned out of her mouth in a beam that ripped through the Shadow around her and overhead. She could not stop the wave of energy anymore than she could stop her own anguished grief.

Aleksander was limp in her lap and it was finally happening. The Sun Summoner was combusting from the inside and the power of the Sun would ravage her body and rend it to shreds.

That did not matter anymore.

Nothing else mattered in this moment.

The heat surged around her and she did not even register the shrieks of Zlatan’s men or the volcra as they burned up in the light that touched them. Gone with very little fanfare in the end.

But then, the entire earth would be gone with little warning and no time to grieve. No time for regret even.

Light poured from her body and scorched the earth and expanded within the Fold farther and farther in a growing radius around her.

Her and her Shadow, alone at the center. The center of the Fold, the center of life itself.

Had he longed for Alina before he created the Fold? Had he known she could exist before he unleashed his Shadow and necessitated a Sun Summoner join him? She could not ask him in this life and so she did not want this life anymore.

At last, she was going to blink out of the world.

Shining out of it with the blinding, fiery fury of a collapsing star, imploding from the inside.

Alina was powerless to stop what had begun.

What force could possibly contain her anymore?

She was so young. She could not keep it in any longer. Never learned to control it properly. Perhaps she was never meant to.

The radius of her light had expanded to the edges of the Fold and where it was erased from the earth, more daylight rushed in and illuminated the scene.

The fire Light was hotter than any she had ever created. Maybe hotter than anything that had ever existed.

Hotter than the fire and combustion of creation itself. Hotter than the Light that burned at the Making at the Heart of the World. She should know, shouldn’t she?

It was past the point of return and the Light would surely swallow everything in its path.

It was beyond anything known. It was beyond the beginning. She would forge a new beginning, though she did not mean to do it.

It was happening now and no one could stop it.

And then—

Something was knitting itself inside her chest.

Born from the fiery core or maybe born from that solitary cool bit of Shadow that she knew lay just beneath her power. That bit of Shadow inside of her that stabilized it all.

Her chest was itching and then Shadow was swirling into her Light.

“Alina.”

His voice reached her and she prayed her thanks to the Saints that he was on the other side of all of this. He was waiting for her.

She had collapsed the world to get to him and it had worked.

Aleksander stirred in her arms, flesh untouched by the ancient power emanating from her being. They were not in the After. He was returned to her on earth. Untouched.

Untouched because Light would never be able to conquer Shadow. Not completely.

Her wailing stopped but she looked at him helpless as she continued to burn. Light beams emanated from her limbs and out of her chest and her gut and every inch of her skin.

Who could stop a star from dying?

Aleksander cupped her face. “It is going to be all right, solnyshka. I know what to do.”

His thumb stroked her cheek, soothing her.

Of course he knew what to do. He had done this very thing four centuries before. Only he had not had Alina to help him. To push back on him and his Shadow.

Aleksander closed his eyes. Shadow denser than she had ever seen—denser than the Fold itself, poured out of him.

Where her star fire was loud with the vibration of radiating energy, his dark matter was deadly silent. It slithered to the very edges of her Light’s reach and encapsulated it.

The world went dark around them. There were no volcra here. No screeches or voices. There was only they two. Shadow and Sun. Dark and Light.

A dying star, shining it’s brightest at it’s imminent collapse and the black hole born from the sheer power of the supernova.

The dark matter swirled and undulated and it was an unyielding master of the Light.

Alina watched it awe as it pulled on every ray that attempted to escape. The Dark curled around it, cooling it, taming it into submission.

Alina gasped for breath, the column of light pouring out of her was gentling at last and cooling off.

“Look at me, little one.”

Her eyes blinked with bleary tears.

“At me.” He said again, coaxing her face.

Her eyes met his steady gaze.

“Breathe with me. We will survive this.”

His voice was soft and unwavering and she burrowed into the assurance it offered.

Her Light gentled and dimmed and then faded entirely at the center of the black hole he created.

Her eyes stared into his. She gave him a small smile which he returned. Both of them captivated in the silent awe of what they created.

Alina laughed. A watery laugh as tears poured down her cheeks and he kissed them over and over.

She sighed, weariness overcoming her and Aleksander soothed her and she let her eyes close, submitting to her exhaustion.

Only then did he call the dark matter back into himself, allowing the natural light of the morning to beat down on them.

They huddled together, centered in the fresh, circular lesion at the heart of the Fold. The buildings of Novokribirsk discernible on one side of him and the army outpost in Kribirsk on the other.

He surveyed the damage, miles wide inside the fold. Wide enough for a small village.

The only casualties were easily explained away. Zlatan and his men no more than dust in the desert. Who would care for the disgraced general and his men? The monsters who would seek to kill the Sainted Sun Summoner?

No one need know how close she came to rending the world apart. No one would know this was an accident—that her powers got away from her.

He could spin this. This—an obviously intentional attempt to banish the Fold—the people would weep and bow at her feet as they were meant to do. The people would not come for her in their fear.

His hands cradled her sleeping form and he allowed himself a smile.

“You cannot escape me now, Sol Koroleva. You watch us. Together we will drag this world into a new age.”

He kissed her cheek, her answering breath somehow, miraculously cool against his skin. He pulled her head close and held her, whispering in her ear.

“When you wake, the world will have been made new.” He stroked a hand over the back of her head, her hair white and gleaming in the morning sun. “You delivered it another miracle." He laughed to himself, tears tracking into her hair from his cheeks, "My cursed, relentless little Saint. Just another miracle.”

#darklina fic #darklina fanfic #darklina #alina x aleksander #aleksander morozova #alina starkov #power dynamics #politics #the grisha trilogy #grishaverse #physics #theoretical physics #darklina server

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nitaescence · 4 years

Text

Beauté de marbre

pairing : sculptor!Tae x reader genre : artist!au word count : 3.8k

summary — Taehyung, a formerly renowned artist, slowly reconnects with his art and catches himself falling for a girl whom sculpting leaves indifferent. That is until the day he discovers she is the critique’s daughter who caused his downfall after her libellious review on his latest work.

warnings — clay play?? oral, unprotected sex

moodboard

“Why did you step too hard?” Laughs Taehyung.

“It’s not my fault.” You pout watching him grab with one hand the big piece of clay that you’ve just sent crashing to the ground. “You set the speed too high.”

He slams the clay hard on the wheel, startling you.

He huffs, “right, my mistake.” He wets his hands and bends over you, “wan’ me centring it for you?” You nod with a small pout. He steps on the pedal and the turntable begins rotating at a nice pace. “Scoot forward a bit.”

You allow him to sit on the large stool behind you and focus on his hands expertly pressing the rough ball of clay up and down repeatedly. The muscles in his arms bulge a little in his attempt to get a perfect rotational symmetry.

He carefully retreats his hand when he hears you whine as your way to show your will to take over.

“You good on your own?”

You nod while wetting your hands. “You can go now.”

Taehyung stands up, takes two steps back and rubs his cheek with the back of his wrist, observing you trying to make a centred hollow. “Don’t need to go any faster.”

His lips stretch in a crooked smile when you don’t answer, totally focused.

His eyes travel down your back to the short shorts half-covering your enticing curves when you sit up. He chews his gum again while ogling your thighs and legs involuntarily tensing, making him twitch in his pants.

You catch him staring and whine, “go!”

He grins cheekily. “‘Right… I’m leaving you alone.”

*************

His desire got the better of him and half an hour later, you hear him shuffling back in his workshop where you are still busy making pottery.

You haven’t changed your position on the stool and so he decides to sit back behind you. You feel his hand sneak between your legs to lean on the small free space you left of the chair, molding his chest to your back.

He nuzzles your hair, “are you done?”

“Hm, I finished the first ball,” you explained without averting your eyes from the ball of clay flattening under your fingers.

Taehyung finds your creation sitting on the small table on the left. He pulls away from you to take a closer look at the small vase. It isn’t the best one but to him it looks perfect.

“What’s wrong with you?” He wonders to himself. “At this rate, Jimin will ask you to teach instead of me.”

You smile at his words, remembering the small workshop adjoining Jimin’s flower shop he works in as a pottery teacher.

He puts the object back on the table and rests his head on your shoulder.

“Aaah,” you sigh and stretch your neck and shoulders. “I can’t do this.”

“Why, why, why?” He asks when he feels you resting against him. “Are you giving up?”

You nod, sulking. He chuckles looking down at you. “What’s wrong? What are you trying to make?”

You sit up and smile embarrassed, “I don’t even know. I just want to shape the walls with the same thickness but I’m just making the hole larger.”

“Want me to help?” He leans forward as well and rests his arms on your thighs. You nod. “Let’s see.”

He wets his hands and you withdraw yours.

“Let’s just start again. It’ll be easier that way.”

He nimbly prepares a third ball until he’s about to open it. He guides your hand on the wet clay and together you start hollowing it until the hole is big enough for your hands to go in.

“Put your hand here and the other one here,” he mumbles as he places you. “Keep track of the pressure you apply with your fingers.”

“No,” you cry when you feel him letting go, making him whine in return.

“You’re doing good.”

He keeps one hand on yours and makes circles with his hurting shoulder.

“See? You’re learning fast.” He kisses the crook of your neck.

Without you realizing it, you’re left shaping on your own.

The heady scent of your hair stirs his initial motive and has him pressing his half hard-on against your ass as his coated hands trail along your thighs.

“Tae…”

He hums in response, relishing the rush of blood you’re causing, swelling him rapidly. You’re feeling it and your hands are getting weaker.

“I’m gonna mess it all over again.” You whimper while he’s lifting up your shirt and smears clay on your naked breasts.

“Forget about it, I want you.” He moans in your ear when your ass rubs his cock . His hand cups your jaw to guide and trap your mouth in his. You welcome his dominant tongue and melt in his touch but part to grunt after he’s begun to rub your clit over your shorts, nudging harder the tent in his pants.

You feel yourself getting wetter but his fingers regrettably become unsatisfying. You take your feet off the pedal just in time when you’ve eventually realised the wheel’s picked up in pace.

A yelp of surprise leaves you when Taehyung effortlessly lifts and puts you down on the table nearby, growing quickly impatient as well. He helps you out of your clothes and undresses himself while you’re kissing him and painting his chest, neck and the hair at his nape.

You glance down and feel yourself clenching instantly at the sight of his painfully hard erection standing thick and throbbing in front of your bare sex. You desperately need a taste of him.

Taehyung catches your lips again and gently lays you on your back, following you in the motion not to break the kiss.

You moan in his mouth, he breaks apart to nibble on your neck as he steadily humps his leaking cock against your sensitive entrance and clit.

“It’s so slippery,” he grunts against your skin, gripping firmly on the edge of the table to rub himself harder. The clay has dried on your hands but you’re still able to feel the softness of his hair when your fingers interlace it.

Bottom lip trapped between your teeth, you claw his asscheek, your hand acting as an incentive to him.

“Baby…”

He cranes his neck to gaze down at you, a subtle frown adorning his gorgeous face. “What’s wrong babe?” He smirks at your frustrated look, “can’t take it anymore?”

“I’m fucking going crazy...”

His eyes travel down naturally when you arch your back to leer at your chest pushing up directly in his face. His open mouth waters. His deep voice leaves him in a restrained whimper, “baby… Fuck…I can’t hold it.”

He supports himself above you, high enough to be able to visually guide his cock inside you without his hands.

You feel your pussy clenching expectantly every time his swollen tip brushes or pokes at your drenched entrance.

“Fuck,” he groans disgruntled. “I can’t put it in.”

“Let’s just go shower.”

Taehyung pulls you back to him to kiss and grope you while you wait for the water to get to the ideal temperature.

He washes his hands and turns you around. You crane your neck to the side to kiss him again while his palms rub your breasts clean. His fingers start playing with your pointing nipples and your hand presses on his nape.

“Let me suck on them,” he whines, turning you back to him.

Your smile falters the longer he keeps abusing the sensitive skin and you don’t want him to stop anytime soon. He grunts when you tug at his dampen hair.

You whine his name in despair and he doesn’t need more to eventually grant you some relief. His fingers blindly look for your throbbing heat, running his tips along your slit and rubbing tiny circles on your neglected clit.

He’s pleasing you just the way you love it but you don’t give him the time to even slip a finger inside you when you tell him to stop.

Just as he is straightening himself up, you drop down on your knees and take his cock in your mouth.

“____-” He moans helplessly, throwing his head back. “Baby, stop- I… I wanna be inside you-”

You shove his pulsing shaft as deep as you can, gagging on it soundly. Caught out, his mouth freezes open a couple of seconds before you pull out of him loud groans and cusses. He’s throbbing dangerously hard between your lips and he immediately forces you back up on your feet.

Satisfied, you look up at him and he chuckles. “You’re driving me fucking crazy.” He kisses you while walking you back against one of the walls. “Put me inside you.”

Moans come pouring out of you when he doesn’t let you adjust to his girth, relentlessly fucking you open.

His mouth is hovering yours, you can’t look away from his frowning face as you feel yourself getting close.

You move your hand away from his tensed up chest to rub your clit and trigger your orgasm.

Taehyung kisses you when he feels you tightening even harder around him. The leg he’s holding up begins to shake and he decides to hold you in his arms, impaling you all the way down.

“Huh… I love you.”

His ardor doesn’t ease up, overstimulating so much so tears start brimming your closed eyes.

As long as he would have liked this to last, he isn’t able to hold himself back anymore.

“I’m gonna cum.”

You try to get a grip on yourself and tap on his hand so he’ll let go of your legs. He frees one but is unable to stop his thrusting. He nuzzles your neck.

“Tae, don’t cum inside me.”

“Why not? I wanna fuck my cum in you- Shit… I can tell it’s turning you on” He whimpers in a small pout, his climax pending. His cock is brimming.

He nudges your nose. “Let me get you swollen with my baby, so you have a reason to move in with me.”

You smile coyly, “tempting but… We can’t... A- at least, not now.”

Taehyung lingers his gaze on you, fucked out and reluctantly pulls out with a curse.

You kneel down a second time and watch him guide his cock in your mouth with a push of his thumb at the base of his pulsing shaft. He’s breathing hard again when the warmth of your mouth welcomes him hungrily.

You look up and start bobbing your head, dragging your tongue and lips along the wet, veiny skin three times before the first spurt of cum shoots inside.

He lets you jerk him off, coating your breasts and chin with his sticky sperm and you can’t help but giggle at the endless amount that keeps being squirted out with every forward motion of your hand.

You suck his sensitive tip clean, overstimulating him which has him jerking in surprise.

He helps you up and you never look away from him while you scoop with your fingertip some of his semen and bring it to your mouth.

“What a waste.” He bites his lip, staring at the mess on your skin under heavy lids. “I wanna go again.”

*********************

Spent, you’re both lying still on his large bed, resting in the darkness.

You chuckle to yourself when a thought pops in your head.

Taehyung nudges you sleepily, “what is it?”

“Do you remember how angry you were when Jimin told you who my mother was?”

“Yeah… Your bruises lasted a whole week.”

You giggle quietly again. “I really had no idea.”

He doesn’t hear you immediately, too enthralled by the sight of your fingers slowly interlacing over and over again.

“About my mom…”

You feel him nudging his nose in the crook of your neck and breathing in quietly.

“I really don’t mind it… That’s behind me now.”

You look over your shoulder and see him still holding his weight on his arm, slightly leaning over your body as he gazed down at you. You barely distinguish each other in the darkness of his room yet neither one of you looks away.

You roll over to lie on your back and bring his hand between you. “How come your hands are still that soft?”

“They’re not,” he chuckles lightly.

“They are.” You object, observing it as you move it closer to your face. “They really are. I like them.”

You make Taehyung smile lazily the longer he feels you touching him. His long fingers trap both of your hands and he kisses them. “Your hands are the soft ones. They’re baby soft. It’s hard to believe you’ve done anything with them. They’re cute.”

**********************

You peek one eye open and close it as soon as you notice Taehyung’s face right in front of you. You slowly drape an arm around his neck and he hugs you to him in return, rubbing his face in your hair.

“What are you doing?” You mumble against his skin.

“Me? Nothing.”

“Liar.”

“You look cute sleeping.” He glances down at your frowning face when you push yourself apart from him. “What ? You don’t believe me?”

“No.”

“How can you be so sure of that, hm? You can’t see yourself sleeping…” You hide in his neck again, making him crack a smile. His hand travels down your back to smack your ass. “Silly baby…”

You don’t hear what he says at first when he speaks again.

“I think I want to sculpt something again.”

“Really?” You perk up, delighted. “That’s great. What do you have in mind?”

He gives you a childish smile. “You. You’re the only thing in my mind.”

You frown discomfited while your brain processes his words. “What? Are you serious?”

His eyes look away as he combs his fingers through your hair, dreading your reaction.

“I mean only if you’re okay with it of course.”

“I… Well, uhm- I think I am but... I’ve never… posed for anyone before… I don’t know if I’ll be a good model.”

His eyes light up. “You’ll see it’s nothing too complicated. You actually won’t have to pose for a long time.”

“How do you exactly see me?”

His hand caresses your cheek. “Like you are right now but... not in bed.”

The thought makes you smile reluctantly.

“Well I wasn’t thinking of you completely naked… I think if we used some sort of silk shawl or veil… I was thinking I could make it seem like it’s swirling around you or something and it could be covering some parts of you, like your face...”

He watches you ponder his suggestion. You seem intrigued.

“I was actually sketching you. Earlier. That’s when I got the idea. I’ll draw a draft so you’ll see what I mean and make up your mind.”

You both remain quiet. You observe him gazing down at your body, tracing it above the thin sheet barely covering you, surely thinking about the different ways he’s already picturing you.

You’ve never seen him like that before.

“You hungry?” His voice snaps you out of your daydream. “I prepared some toasts and fruits and other things...”

You nod while shifting to lie on your back and stretch longly, giving him access to your bare breasts and he doesn’t need to be persuaded to cover them with loving kisses.

You cup the back of his head and the next second he’s hovering over your face, claiming your mouth in a sloppy kiss.

“You don’t mind if I get to eat breakfast first.”

You bite your lip, “please do.”

************************

You disrobe entirely in his room and put on the kimono you had brought with you. You walk toward his studio where you hear some rummaging coming from. You peek your head past the door and note he is almost finished preparing the set.

Classical music is playing in the background, setting a comfortable atmosphere. Taehyung has his back turned to you and is holding something.

You subtly clear your throat, earning his attention instantly. His short ponytail swings when he looks back before he reveals his bare chest and arms flexing while he nimbly finishes adjusting the heavy camera. You shamelessly feast your eyes on the sight of him and you share a smile with a knowing look.

He shortens the distance between you but keeps his focus on his camera for another couple of seconds. You are looking around patiently in silence. You’re able to see from your spot in the workshop different pieces of paper.

You walk closer to the table they’ve been put on and take one of them. A subtle smile curves your lips when you recognize yourself or rather the sketched version of you. Some of them have been left in shades of grey and white, others display a few pastel colours here and there.

You put the paper down.

Your chest is thudding loudly from within after you’ve caught a glimpse of the different veils bunched nearby.

“Okay.” He mumbles quietly and sets the impressive device on the worktable. “So first I’m going to take some pictures in the position I want you to be in. I need you to be super still because I need different viewing points of your body in that exact same position, ‘right?”

You smartly nod and he smiles again.

“I’ll tape up the veil on several parts of your body… I don’t really know how else to do it.” He admits with pouting lips.

“I think it’ll be fine that way… It’ll just have to not be heavy.”

He agrees and walks away to fetch the fabrics while you keep your motivation there.

“I brought different ones, the color isn’t important.” He trails while coming back in front of you. “Ready?”

Without hesitation, you let the kimono open itself, the soft fabric now able to slide down effortlessly along your body to pool around your feet. You look up at him.

If the sight of your bare body takes his breath away, he doesn’t let it show.

You notice the subtle squeeze his jaw makes while he’s getting an eyeful of you. Your lips part to let air rush in after he has gotten even closer, now towering over you.

Your face is instinctively pulled in when only a few inches separate you. The tips of the fabrics in his hands tickle the skin of your lower stomach. A light chuckle escapes him. You seem hypnotized.

“What is it?”

He’s looking down between you, faintly frowning. “You’re not going easy on me…”

“Too much too soon?” You giggle.

Your mouths are impossibly close but neither of you gives in. Taehyung reluctantly pulls back just in time.

A crooked smile adorns your lips while you watch him decide on the best fabric to don your enticing body and astutely find the spot where it will get taped up invisibly to you.

His fingers are barely brushing your skin, placing and replacing the veil around the tip of your feet and calf, in front of your crotch, winding it around your ribs right below the swell of your breast where a path of shivers awakens the skin. The other end of the fabric rolls up your nape to hide your face.

“Can you hold it for me?”

You raise your arm carefully to grasp the veil above your head, unable to see anything and waiting for further instruction. You hear him taking something you guess to be the camera.

“Shift your weight on your right foot.”

White light flashes in short seconds three or four times. You try to remain as still as possible as he keeps on photographing you.

“You’re doing great,” you hear his voice behind you and light flashes again. “You cold?”

“I’m okay. Is it as good as you thought it’d be?”

He hums agreeing. “You can drop this now.”

You lower your arms and Taehyung circles your front to let you take a look at some of the pictures. He keeps a hand under to help hold the heavy camera.

Like any other photographs of you, you don’t think much of yourself but you trust his eye.

“I think it’ll look really great,” he speaks softly in your ear and gently presses himself against your back. “When I’m done with it I want myself to desire that body as much as I desire the real one.”

You are feeling everything but cold.

“I want people to feel that attraction and feel miserable because they’ll never be able to have you.”

You chuckle to yourself as you finish scrolling through all of the pictures. “You don’t have to be so dramatic, you know. What’s the next step?”

He brushes your hair to the side to kiss your neck. “Build a clay form of you.”

“And you’re able to do that from simple pictures?” You wonder as he takes the device from you.

“It’s the easiest step… but-” his hand grasps onto your hip to have your backside pushing against his twitching crotch, tearing a quiet grunt from him. “It’s preferable to have the model present.”

“Then... what are you waiting for?” You grin lightly, pushing back deliberately.

He whines and eventually takes the veil off of you and cups your breast. “There’s no rush-.”

“Hmm, that’s not very serious of you mister big artist.” You mock, looking back to face him.

“I told you, you weren’t making it easy for me...”

****************

You walk in the room he’s reserved expressly for sculpting where he’s spent most of his time the past three months. The floor is covered with white residue and dust. The sculpture stands in the middle on a pedestal, imposing. Taehyung’s crouching, polishing the feet and ankles and doesn’t hear you at first.

You’ve never imagined once in your life you’d be facing a marble version of you, naked moreover but the final result is quite pleasing to your eye. You’ve never given much thought to anything art-related, your mother never managed to get you as much interested as she may have hoped for you to get.

You slowly walk around, make eye contact with him and guess his smile behind the mask he’s wearing.

“Is it nearly done yet?” You watch him standing up and removing the protective gear to join you.

“Almost…” He muses while redoing his loose bun. “I think by the end of this week it’ll be good enough.”

“Good enough?” You frown at him and look back again at his work. “Tae… I don’t think it can get anymore accomplished than that.”

He’s silent and still and it arouses your curiosity. “Is something wrong?”

“What?”

“You were having like... a weird moment- you were just staring…”

“Oh no, it’s nothing…” He answers a little flustered, getting rid of his dusty gloves. “I was just… fantasizing.”

“About what?” He shakes his head to himself but it’s too late. “Come on, tell me. I wanna know.”

“I was just thinking about sculpting your body… .”

You smile, waiting.

“But like... pregnant.”

Taehyung pouts at your sudden burst. “Why? Why are you laughing? You asked me, I answered you…” He turns again to gaze up at his creation. “You’d be fucking gorgeous.”

Your laughter calms. “I’d be fucking big.”

“You’d be fucking perfection.” He instantly counters.

“‘Right…” You start walking away. “When you’re done fantasizing, come join me. The pizza’s here!”

#bts fanfic #taehyung smut #bts taehyung smut #kim taehyung smut #kim taehyung x you #kim taehyung x reader #v smut #bts bf au #bts artist au #bts impreg kink #bts fluff scenarios #taehyung fluff #sculptor Taehyung #taehyung scenarios

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kimikitty96 · 4 years

Text

Goodbye Letter to my Eating Disorder

It’s been hard. The past 3 years were so difficult, I’m surprised I haven’t completely lost myself. From having relationship problems, to deaths in my family (my brother and kitty died), to being sexually assaulted in the gym, to almost losing my mom this past year...suffice it to say, it’s been rather difficult.

I turned to my old “friend”, Edward. We “met” when I was 8 years old, and lost touch when I started working at 21 years old. Or, at least I thought we lost touch; he just put on a mask. But here he was again. He was there for me when I was struggling the most. No one else understood my pain the way he did, and no one numbed me like he did. He gave me the drive and motivation to get out of bed and to go to the gym; he kept me from faltering on my diet and turn to comfort eating; he continued to cheer me on when I made mistakes and would tell me to keep going. When I have injuries, he’d tell me that my initial weight loss was not due to me exercising, but my eating habits and to not worry, I can still continue! When I got sexually assaulted at my gym, he said to me that I never have to go back to that gym, and that I can go anywhere else to get my “Brazilian Booty”. He suggested I take a trip to Vegas and just enjoy myself, then come back and get serious.

He comforted me when my fiance would reject me, saying if I listened to him, I won’t need my fiance because I’d be able to attract the guy I really wanted, that all I needed was a little push. When my kitty passed away, Edward allowed me to grieve and to celebrate her life by going to a buffet and enjoying seafood, on one condition: I had to make sure that I was right back on track by making sure that I would “let my body rest” from food for a couple of days.

Last July (2019), I went into PHP because I knew something was seriously wrong. Edward was no longer helping me. His voice grew louder in my head, and what used to be gentle nudging became more forceful, more frustrated. Here was his evolution:

-”Oh, you want carbs? Well, that’s okay! You can have carbs and use it as energy for the gym when doing cardio/lower body workout tomorrow! Just make sure you lower your fat intake, okay?”

-”Yes! There’s a food festival! Make sure you get your 10k steps before you go, okay? We’ll eat everything we want, just like those fitness people do on YouTube! You’ve earned it!”

-”Oh, you gained weight...again. I mean...maybe you should lower your calories again. You’re eating a bit more than you’re supposed to, so just make sure your weekly calories are where they’re supposed to be.”

-”Lord, you failed an exam??? Okay, you need to hit the gym harder so you can focus better.”

-”[Fiance] refused to touch you again? It’s been a month since the last time? Why do you even want him to touch you at this point? You should just think about that guy who molested you at the gym, since that’s all you can get at this point.”

“You failed another exam? Jesus christ, you need to focus harder. You’ll never finish community college and get into [#1 dream school] if you continue like this! But if you let your body rest from food, you’ll have mental clarity and will remember your course material better.”

-”Oh, fiance said no to you again. You really need to stop having these “cheat days” or “cheat meals”. He’s getting more and more grossed out by you every day.”

-“Why can’t you just stop eating the junk foods you’re eating? You were able to do it before. You’re so stupid, you can’t even get this right. You know what? I’m going to test your willpower. Go out and buy junk food, and stare at it and say no!”

-”See, he’s flirting with so many other women at his work. This is why he won’t touch you. You’re stupid and ugly; you’re worth nothing unless you are at the top of your class, and weigh less than [UGW]!”

-”Why can’t you stop eating?!?! Why do you have the willpower of a drug addict?! You’re nothing! Get rid of that! You don’t deserve your meal! GET RID OF IT NOW!”

-”JESUS CHRIST, YOU ARE FUCKING STUPID! IT’S YOUR FAULT YOUR FIANCE DON’T WANT YOU! YOU’RE WORTH LESS THAN NOTHING! YOU DESERVED BEING GROPED AT THE GYM BECAUSE THAT IS YOUR WORTH!”

-”See? You failed a class you already took! This is how stupid and [ableist expletive] you are. You can’t even do that shit right. YOU ARE NOTHING. YOU HAVE NEGATIVE WORTH.”

-”Your brother died because he had diabetes. Your mother almost died because of diabetes. They couldn’t control; the shit they put in their mouths, and you will end up with the same fate because your dumb ass can’t even say no to a chip.”

-”Oh, you lost another friend? That’s because you’re a piece of shit. You’ve always been a piece of shit. You deserve to be alone. No one should be subjected to the bullshit that is you. You should just KYS.”

-”No, you can’t have that! You can’t touch food unless I say so! I don’t care that it’s been a week!”

-”No don’t touch food! It’s all poison! It’s going to kill you! Look what it did to your mom and brother! You’re gonna lose your dad too because all food is poison! DON’T TOUCH ANY FOODSTUFFS!!!”

*Me, fainting, at home alone, because I haven’t eaten in a week and my heart rate is in the low 50′s*

-”Why are you being an attention whore? Stop your bitch ass whining and go pee.”

*My response* “Bitch, there’s no one here! Who am I being an attention whore to, my cats?!”

-”Yes! Now stop being a whiny bitch and go pee!”

-”Why are you still here? Why aren’t you doing everyone on this earth a favor and disappear. No one would miss you. They’re not even thinking of you right now. No one misses you now. Everyone is just pretending to like you because they feel sorry for you. They actually really hate you. Just disappear. They don’t want you around anyway.”

-”Leave. Disappear. No one wants you. Just take [redacted], and go to sleep.”

Edward was not helping me. He made it seem like he was, but he wasn’t. He entered my life during a time when I was vulnerable and made me believe he would be my redemption. He knew me; he knew what was best for me. He could make me better/stronger/more beautiful/more desirable/smarter; all I had to do was listen.

That’s not who he is. He is a monster. He’s worse than that; he is pure evil that nothing and no one should ever allowed in. He took what I give him, and it’s not enough. It’s never enough. Once I did what he told me to do, he tells me to go farther because while it’s good, I can do better; I can be better. He destroyed everything I touch and turned it against me so that I couldn’t rely on anyone but him. He isolated me and introduced me to his partner-in-crime, Shame. The more Edward spoke, the more Shame consumed.

When I thought Edward was giving me drive and motivation to go workout so I could improve myself, in reality, he was telling me my body was grotesque and that I needed to punish myself because I mistreated my body. When he tried to keep me from faltering on my diet, he was telling me I shouldn’t eat [xyz] so I can be healthy, when in reality, he was encouraging me to binge/purge/restrict/fast, causing heart palpitations, unstable-low blood pressure, gastrointestinal distress, brain fog, increased bouts of depression, and severe low self esteem; instead of being healthy, he made me extremely unhealthy. When he continued to cheer me on whenever I injured myself due to too much physical exertion and would tell me to “reign my diet in”, the reality was that he caused these injuries by telling me that I had to keep going no matter how hard I trained, that I couldn’t eat enough calories so I could heal and recover, and that even though I was injured, I couldn’t rest and had to continue to exercise. When I got sexually assaulted at my gym, he graciously allowed me to transfer gyms and continue to workout and ignore my mental health when in reality...he wanted to keep me mentally weak so that I would continue to rely on him because he made clothes fit better.

He made it so clothes can fit better; clothes I bought, that I wasn’t allowed to wear, because my body wasn’t where he wanted it to be, therefore I didn’t deserve to wear them yet.

The past few months have been the most difficult out of the 3 years I’d been struggling; COVID, finishing school and transferring to uni, cheating on my fiance, my mom almost dying (twice), and really delving deep inside me to come to terms with everything I went through and being completely honest with myself...I never want to go through that again. But I am extremely grateful I did, because I saw who Edward really was. I saw him for the toxic, vile, awful evil entity he always was, and now I get to say goodbye.

To Edward:

Thank you for who you were when you back into my life (again). Thank you for helping me cope with my issues, and for keeping my head afloat; you did the best you could, given the circumstances you had. I was broken, hurt, lost, and saw nothing good in me. You showed me that I can be better, and that I can do better. I just have to push a little harder, and I’ll eventually get what I want.

You gave me something to hold on to in the beginning, and thankfully, I figured out your toxicity before it was too late for me. This is me telling you that I want to part ways. I know you’ll still be around, because you are my oldest “friend”, and I know you will do your very best to get me to succumb to your ways. But like you taught me, if I just have a little bit of willpower and a little bit of strength and perseverance, I can achieve what I want; that the only person stopping me is myself. I can either move forward, or sabotage myself once more; it was, and is, completely up to me, isn’t that right?

Thank you for the lessons you taught me. I will utilize them to fight you every single day of my life. Yes, I will have setbacks. Yes, I will falter. But like you taught me; if I falter, I need to keep going. What was it you used to tell me? If I miss a workout, or eat something I wasn’t supposed to, that I needed to work twice as hard the next day? That’s exactly what I’m going to do. If I let you in, I will tell myself that it’s okay to make a mistake, and that I can always turn my back on you whenever you appear. The only difference between your lesson and my OWN words is that I will forgive myself for allowing you back in.

I want to thank you for all the vitriolic words you’ve shouted at me. If it weren’t for that, I would’ve never seen the kindest words uttered to me by the ones who do love and care about me (yes, the people in my life love me despite your insistence that they don’t). I want to thank you for the discipline you’ve instilled upon me. If it weren’t for that, I would’ve never remembered the drive I have at succeeding at endeavors that mean a lot to me. And you know what means a lot to me?

I MEAN A LOT TO ME!

So I will work my hardest to make sure I fight you every single god damn day of my life, and in doing so, empower me to be the best me I can. And you know what it means to be the best me? It’s to be my most authentic and honest and forgiving self. I means I can finally love and appreciate me the way I love and appreciate everyone in my life.

This is my goodbye. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.

Kitty

#eating disorders #recovery #ed recovery #pro ana #promia #proana #proed #binging #ana #mia #anamia #anorexia #anorexa #bulimia #bulimea #can't stop won't stop #self love

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bcbdrums · 4 years

Text

Future

Another fluff for fluff's sake, because why not!?

FFn AO3

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

Shego pressed her back harder into Drakken's chest as a fresh wave of nausea took her. His warmth and arms surrounding her were a blessed comfort, as much as his hands gently and methodically rubbing her pregnant belly, only large enough now to confirm for any wondering eyes that yes, she was pregnant and not just fat.

She had long since tired of complaining about the ill feelings and wondering why they plagued her so much. This time was no different from the last, in that sense. And while it worried her greatly, she knew she couldn't stay in that headspace. Drakken had forbidden it, in fact. She almost smirked at the thought. He had forbidden worrying, as if it was something he had any control over, but it was the motive that counted. She knew it was part of why they were where they were, right then.

It had become a routine, that when the morning sickness became nearly unbearable, he would sit up in the bed and lean against the headboard, and she would snuggle against his back between his legs. Then she was gifted with the gentle rubbing of her belly, his warmth, his scent... All comforts that sometimes did little to actually cut through the nausea, but always shut down any attempts her mind might make at worry. Because somehow...she had the most wonderful husband in the universe.

Sometimes the sickness would abate enough that she fell asleep in his arms, and she would wake up to the security of his warm embrace; it assured her even more. Sometimes he would fall asleep too, and other times she would wake to find him mentally plotting something, but still gently rubbing her belly as if it was the most important occupation he could attend to.

Yes, she had the most wonderful husband in the universe.

Suddenly she felt the slight purr of his chest as he began to hum, the melody unfamiliar to her as the sound almost absently left his lips. The song was slow, repetitive, and soothing. His hands rubbing her belly slowed to match the rhythm of the song.

She shifted where her face was nestled into his cheek, her hair catching on his lips before she reached up to brush it aside.

"What's that?" she asked softly.

"Hnn... Something my father used to sing to my mother," he answered, barely meeting her eyes. She wondered if he was plotting something.

"I don't know it," she said. His eyes finally focused to meet hers.

"I've...never actually listened to the song, but it might be called 'Surfer Girl.' My mother used to tease him that it...made no sense."

Shego thought for a moment. "Why haven't you listened to it?"

Drakken's eyes glazed over briefly. "It's one of my only memories of my father. I want to remember his voice."

Shego nodded with a thoughtful smile as she tilted her head back on his shoulder, and his humming resumed. She rested her arms atop his and laced her fingers between his as he continued rubbing her belly, and she simply listened to the soothing melody. It was almost like a lullaby, and yet not. After several minutes, Drakken let a few of the words softly escape his lips.

"Do you love me, do you, Surfer Girl..."

Shego smiled softly as she thought of their own child someday listening to their father sing... Perhaps their baby's first memories would be of his voice singing love songs around the lair, and her teasing him to stop. It was an amusing yet sweet parallel.

She tilted her head up to kiss his jaw, and he glanced at her with an adoring smile. Something about the look sent a desperate desire rushing through her, and after scarecely a moment of thought, she surprised him by turning around and straddling his legs, her taut belly pressing into his soft one. She set her hands on his shoulders as she kissed him, and he met the soft touch with equal tenderness.

When she pulled away there was an unmistakable question in his eyes: 'sex?' Ordinarily it would make her smirk or laugh, but due to her devastating morning sickness she couldn't treat the question flippantly. She'd lost track of how many weeks it had been since their last failed attempt that had ended with her bending over a bucket.

She was still worried about that. But her heart was making her body's decisions, and she answered his question with another warm and gentle kiss. She smiled as she could feel the excitement run through him at the sudden tensing of all his muscles, and her expression only broadened as his arms held her and then carefully lay her down, moving a pillow beneath her head and then setting her hair to the side where it hopefully wouldn't get tangled.

She set her hands over her churning stomach as she smiled at him, watching his excitement as he hastily disrobed. She knew he would treat her with the same tender care in this as he had done simply rubbing her belly.

"Keep singing that song," she said.

He hesitated but a moment as he was about to relieve her of her clothing, and then smiled and began singing gain.

Shego listened to the song and her imaginings alternated between how she pictured the past, and her hope for the future: a small child, looking up and listening to their father's strong voice, love and happiness being one of the first and strongest memories the child stored.

"Little surfer, little one..."

That thought of joy was a further help in alleviating the morning sickness. And the second Drakken was over her, she wrapped her arms tightly around him, her smile so broad and happy he almost faltered in the song. But the soft melody continued as she stared into his eyes adoringly.

The sickness was only a present worry, she knew, as difficult as it was... But the future... As Drakken stared back at her with nothing but love, she knew that their child's future held nothing to worry about.

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imma-new-soul · 5 years

Text

Radio Static

A/N: This was suppose to be something else but turned into.. well this. Thanks to @mushyjellybeans for telling me to keep this and save it for late 💛💛 and for @babiiface95 for motivating me to write my first smut scene

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: You were a field nurse for the U.S Army stationed out in a foreign country. When most the soldier’s you were stationed with meet a grim demise it left you stranded and alone in an unfamiliar setting. After month’s of surviving on your own you find a wounded soldier and nurse him to heal. Suddenly your small comfortable world is not so small anymore (shit I suck at Summarys .. oh well)

Warning: Sexual content ( the section that is NSFW is labeled and doesn’t affect the plot in anyway so if you want to just skip it you can DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER ), Angst, Strong language, mention of blood and injury, last but not least!! FLUFF? Maybe? I think

Word Count: 2.8k. MASTERLIST

You didn’t miss the softness and warmth of your bed in Brooklyn or the coffee from the shop in the corner, even though they had the good stuff compared to whatever was sitting in your small steel mug. Those things seemed like luxuries from a life so long ago. Stiff green cots and food that came from small tan bags were your new luxuries and you didn’t mind at all.

The tour you were on was supposed to only be six months in a dense forest of some foreign country but ended up lasting a lot longer than anyone expected. All of the men in the group you were deployed with were long gone. Wounds too severe to continue fighting or worse, some had succumb to their injuries and never made it home.

The war had taken everyone from you. Desperately you called out for rescue on a radio that was left behind from one of the soldiers. Each moment you waited by it, hoping to hear a response but none ever came. Your dreams drifted into the void of its own silence

For many months you’ve lived in this forest alone surviving off of whatever was left at the old basecamp. Time slowly diminishing your rations and your hope of rescue. Being a field nurse you learned many things and being resourceful was one.

Seeing that your food was running low you set off into the jungle every morning to scavenge for your next meal. Over time scavenging became hunting and hunting became second nature. Living this way, having to survive off of the land and all it provided wasn’t a curse but a blessing in disguise.

The shine of the moonlight kissed your skin goodnight and the insect’s that chirped sung you sweet soft lullabies. The pitter-patter of small and large creatures did not frighten you, it made you feel less alone.

****

The day had been kind to you in the way that there were plenty of berries and fresh water to find. You smiled as you felt the cool water underneath your feet but your smile faltered when you heard a familiar sound. It was close enough to hear the bass of the noise but fair enough for the sound to almost dissipate in the air, making it harder to track.

You took a step forward hoping the noise amplified towards the direction you walked. The deep sound bounced through the tree line drawing you further into the dense. You were able to finally make out the sound “Help me, Someone PLEASE help me!!”. The shouts cut through the air till you finally found its source.

Beneath a fallen tree laid a soldier bathed in blood and mud faced down on the dirt. His screams muted when he heard the dispersed twigs from the tree crack under your feet. You rushed over to him lifting up the truck of the tree that pinned his arm to the ground.

Instantly he rolled onto his back heaving for air and clutching his wounded arm. The pressure from the tree helped stop the blood flow from the deep cut that was on his forearm but as soon as the pressure was taken off, blood started to drip from his cut soaking the already damp ground. In one blink you ripped a strand of cloth from your shirt and tied it around his arm stopping any further blood loss.

He winced in pain, moans and goans slipping from his lips. “It’s going to be okay, just breath, you have to breath” you instructed and with hot tears trailing down his face he took one hard deep breath to steady his heart. Leaning over him you pressed a cool metal canteen to his lips lifting his head so he could take a sip of fresh cold water.

You were able to make out the letters that where velcroed to the chest of his uniform jacket and the dog tags that hung from around his neck. “James Buchanan Barnes, you’re a Sargent?, How did you get all the way out here? Where are the rest of your men?” Interrogating questions flew from your brain right out of you mouth with little reserve. “M-My names Bucky, and their … their all dead” he voiced, strained and hoarse from holding back tears.

Just by one single glance of him you knew he needed more medical tending to then just the improvised bandage that wrapped around his arm already soaked in blood. So you lifted him up as gently as you could, swinging his uninjured arm over your shoulder and wrapping your hand around his waist.

Bucky saw no reason to go unwillingly. Your voice was soft and so was your touch. You were his heroin an angel that appeared to him in what he thought was his last moments.

It took one whole staining, grueling hour to get him back to your old basecamp where the rest of your medical supplies were. In that time Bucky passed out from exhaustion but most likely from blood loss. You placed him down slowly laying him on your cot as you stripped him from his boots and large muddy pants to examine his body. Another large gash sat on his thigh a few inches above his knee. The rest of his body was riddled with smaller less severe cuts.

Cleaning him up and stitching his injures depleted most of your medical resources, so you made a mental note that from here on out you had to be extra cautious not to hurt yourself in anyway. After Bucky was patched up nicely he started to come to.

You sat beside him while he stirred and shifted his body finally waking after three hours. “Bucky, can you hear me?” You whispered softly to not startle the man. He gave a small nod groaning in pain while his eyes stood shut. “I’m going out to get you something for your pain” you reassured him placing your hand on his shoulder to show him some form of tenderness after such a harsh morning. Bucky nodded again this time opening his eyes slightly to meet yours.

It didn’t take long to find the plants you were looking for Lactuca virosa, a type of wild lettuce that’s known for its pain relieving properties. As you approached the base you spotted Bucky hunched against a tree trying to steady himself enough to walk. Rushing over to him you lead him towards a chair that you’d often sit on and watch the stars at night or listen to the animal scurry.

“Hey you have to rest, you’re not supposed to be on your feet yet, you’re gonna pop the stitches on your thigh” you strained. Bucky let out a loud huff of air in annoyance and agreed. You handed him the plant that you fetched and instructed him to consume the whole thing stem and all, and he did as he was told.

Bucky submitted to every request and demand you made. He put complete trust in you with little reason behind his logic. He didn’t even know your name or why you were helping him but he felt safe. Safe was not something he felt in a long time.

****

Three weeks had passed since you found Bucky helplessly pinned to the ground. He was strong and his wounds were healing quickly.

In the first week you cared for him intensely, changing his bandages routinely so no infection settled in. You bathed him and even spoon fed him while he recovered.

The second week was a lot different, although he wasn’t completely healed he was able to walk around. You taught him how to undress and dress his bandages and purify the water brought back to camp. He even learned how to work the radio and call out for rescue each morning.

By the third week Bucky was almost healed and hunting right by your side. It wasn’t something he picked up quickly. He had to be patient and quiet two traits that didn’t come naturally.

Although you knew he was a perfectly capable man you felt the need to protect him. You cared for him more than you probably should. Bucky was kind and light hearted. Very different from the men you were stationed with. He never made advances towards you even though he wanted to, his eyes never lingered on places they shouldn’t, and his touch never felt threatening or unwanted.

Bucky knew he was in love with by the first week he meet you. No one’s ever cared or took care of him like you did. He learned so much from you and your beauty was unparalleled.

You enjoyed his company also, being alone wasn’t something you wanted anymore. It felt as if you and Bucky where the only people on Earth and in a way it was true.

Bucky enjoyed the peacefulness of everything, there were no loud gunshots or explosions that left his ears ringing for days. There was a calm there, he was actually able to rest, actually able to breath. He didn’t have to look over his shoulder every few seconds or sleep with one eye open. It was a paradise and you made it even more so.

Even though Bucky tried the radio everyday he didn’t really want to actually be rescued, it meant he’d have to go back to the chaos and destruction of war.

****

It’s been weeks that you had your eyes on one particularly sweet juicy fruit that hung from a large stretched tree. You waiting patiently for it to ripen and today it’s color seemed perfect for picking. As you ascended up the hard tricky truck the branch that bared your weight snapped and sent you plummeting to the ground.

A loud thud rang out through the air followed by high streaks of pain. You managed to lift yourself slowly from the floor. Your body was weak and sore all over. You weren’t sure if there were any further damage except for small bruises and cuts so you dusted yourself of and slowly walk back to camp feeling defeated.

When you arrived Bucky’s faces contorted into pure horror leaving you confused by his response. He quickly sat up from where was sitting to rush by your side.

“You’re bleeding, what happen to you?” Bucky asked concern laced in his words. Just then you felt the warm wet flush of blood drip down your chest. There was a relatively long rip present on your shirt exposing the torn skin just under your collarbone. Blood stained the area quickly and flashes of white hot pain coursed through your muscles.

Bucky lead you to his set assuring you were safe if you ended up passing out. Without a second thought he ripped the shirt from your body to remove the dirty stained fabric from your skin.

You wound was a lot worse then Bucky first thought, large thin splinters from the tree stuck out from your skin and blood dripped constantly.

He ran to retrieve a cloth and sat beside you placing it on the wound and pressing firmly. You screamed in pain yanking his hand away.

“Bucky you have to get the splinters out and then stitch me up” you said in a low breathy voice

“There’s so much blood ..i..dont know.. I don’t think I could do that” Bucky stammered

“Look at me” you held him wrist while he looked into your eyes

“You can do this I believe in you, just do as I say. Okay” you instructed and Bucky agreed nodding his head rapidly.

**** NSFW ****

You started to talk him through the process very slowly trying to keep him calm and steady. one of his hands carefully picked out the wood while the other pressed on your shoulder holding you in place. Ever prick sent an immense amount of pain through you so you clutched Bucky’s thigh baring down on him.

When the last stitch was in place Bucky cleaned you up and finally let out a deep breath in relief.

“You did it” you smile through your teeth proud of him. You gave his thigh a tight squeeze as you spoke up again.

“I knew you could do it” Bucky’s heart skipped a beat when he felt your hand so close to his groin. He was so caught up in the moment he hadn’t noticed the placement of your hand. His sight quickly darted to your fingers and back up to your eyes .

Your faces were close enough that if he leaned in just a few more inches he could have a taste of your soft sweet lips. Your breath on his face further amplified the heat that was emanating from his body. His stare bounced from your lips to your eyes and back to your lips.

Faithfully you leaned in towards him pressing your lips to his. Your hand moving up his body till it grabbed at his hair pulling him in closer. You parted your lips allowing Bucky’s tongue to enter your mouth. His tongue swirled and lapped around expertly, licking your bottom lip and taking it in between his teeth expelling small breathy moan from you.

He growled back in response. Your moan sending blood rushing down towards his length. Bucky’s hand scanned your body roaming over every inch of your heated flesh till they fell to your hips. He tugged at you pulling you onto his lap so you were straddling him, not once removing his lips from yours.

Both your hands found its way into his hair tugging slightly. Bucky pulled back finally breaking the kiss to trailing his plump wet lips across your jaw and down to your neck. He peppered small delicate kisses on your skin, licking a strip from your collarbone up to ear.

He felt the goosebumps that rose on your arms and flushed your body. With a soft devilish chuckle he nibbled on your neck drawing another loud moan from your lips. You moved your hips against his feeling a need starting to grow in your stomach.

The hardness of him through the thin fabric of his shorts created a wetness that was pool in your underwear.

He guided your hips, moving you back and forth on his lap pressing you harder into him till his breath hitched in his throat.

“Babe your gonna have to ride me right now before I blow without getting to feel that tight pussy squeezing this hard cock” he grunted, breath falling onto your neck. You purred back, slowly lifting yourself off of his lap to dispose of the rest of his and your clothes and climbing back into his thighs.

He pressed his lips on yours again devouring you at a despite pace, Your wet core hoovering dangerously above his stiff member. Holding your waist Bucky slowly pushing you down onto him. His manhood prodding at your soaked entrance inching you down little by little. When his whole length disappeared inside of you, you both threw your heads back exhaling in ecstasy.

You held still for a moment as your walls adjusted to his size, squeezing tightly around him. He bucked his hips up signaling you to start moving. You grinded down on him extremely slow. The teasing speed driving Bucky mad. He moaned at the intimacy of this moment closing his eyes focusing on the feeling of him pumping into your quivering wetness.

You had enough of this slow torture so you decided to sped up your pace bouncing hungrily on him. Loud long moans left your lips echoing in the wide open space around you. Bucky placed his hands on your back pulling you to his chest while he slammed into you. He dropped his forehead onto your shoulder still railing you furiously.

Your orgasm hit you without warning leaving you breathlessly screaming his name, Buckys wasn’t far behind and as your high rippled through your body tightening your walls Bucky spilled into you. His heat coating your walls and dripping down onto thigh.

Out of breath and spent he lifted his head and kissed you again, this time it was soft and passionate. You could feel his love pouring out of his chest and making its way to yours.

**** SFW ****

The sharp sound of static chirps through your ears snapping you back to reality. You whipped your head back towards the noise trying to make out the sound. There was another loud static noise seconds later.

You jumped to your feet walking towards the sound. It was coming from the radio, faded voice broke through the static.

“ This is General Mason, we reserved your distress signal, are you still in need of assistance?” The man on the other side repeated himself over and over again.

You turned to Bucky who was pulling up his pants, your face painted with disbelief. You pressed the mic to your lips but before you could respond Bucky reached out for the non turning the radio completely off.

You looked up at him a bit shocked till a huge water eyed smile spread across your face. Bucky pulled you into him wrapping his large arms around you as you sunk into his chest.

“I don’t want to leave I never want to leave this place” Bucky whispered as he swayed with you slowly.

“ i don’t either” you replied tears streaming from your eyes.

****

@honeyvbarnes @sebbbystaaan @mushyjellybeans @babiiface95 @chloerinebarnes @perpetually-tuned-out @criminal-cookies @this-kitten-is-smitten @sherrybaby14 @theladyoffangorn mutuals if you dont want to be tagged shot me a message

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x yn #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction

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nastybuckybarnes · 5 years

Text

Darkness

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: After overhearing you telling your friends that you want to experience Bucky’s rougher darker side, he shows it to you.

Warnings: Smut, Oral, Dirty Talk, Rough Sex, Kinda Dark Bucky, Squirting

Word Count: 1.5K

A/n: This took for-fucking-ever to write because I had no motivation. But I’m trying to get back into it

REQUESTS ARE UNDERWAY. I HAVE SEVEN (7) IN PROGRESS!!! BE PATIENT!! THEY GO AS FAR BACK AS EARLY MAY!!! I DO A FIRST-COME, FIRST-SERVE BASIS!!

MASTERLIST

Requested by @denimandcabernet

~*~

“How’s everything with Bucky Boy?” Nat asks around a mouthful of spaghetti. “Good I guess, I just… I feel like he’s holding back, ya’know? Like, he’s not showing me all of him. Don’t get me wrong, I love the soft Bucky I’m getting, but I want to see all of him. I want to accept the darker more soldier-y parts of him. I just… don’t know how to tell him that without it coming across weird or anything. And I guess, this little part of me… just wants him to let loose and be kinda rough with me.”

Unfortunately for you and your secrecy, Bucky’s just outside of the room, his eyes wide as he hears what you’re saying. He steps backwards, brows furrowing as he processes what you’ve said.

A small smile spreads on his face as an idea makes its way into his head. It could either go horribly wrong or incredibly right. And it’s a risk he’s willing to take.

~*~

“Morning Bucky,” you say with a smile, reaching up on your toes and kissing him gently. He grips your waist harshly and pulls you closer to him, catching you by surprise.

But pleasantly so.

He kisses you roughly then walks out of the room without a word, leaving you a panting mess, wondering what just happened while you try to stop the warmth pooling in your panties.

“Okay, What was that?” Nat asks from the couch. You jump and turn to look at her, hand on your throat as your heart thunders in your chest. “Christ, Nat! You scared me!” She rolls her eyes then looks at you expectantly.

“I have no idea what that was, okay? I have no fucking idea. But I like it.” She raises her eyebrows and looks away, an amused expression on her face.

It continues like this for the rest of the day.

Like when you’re sparring with him.

Instead of taking it easy on you like he usually does, he’s extra rough.

You’re getting irritated as you try tripping him, only for him to avoid it and grab your throat before you can dodge. His metal fingers flex and he shoves you onto your back, almost knocking the air out of you.

He squeezes your throat and looks into your eyes deeply, a small smirk on his face as he gets up and walks away.

You stay lying on your back, dazed and confused as your boyfriend carries on like nothing happened.

“You good, (Y/n)?” Steve calls from the punching bags further in the room. Bucky doesn’t even look at you as you push yourself to your knees. “Yeah. M’fine Steve.”

It all builds. It turns you on like nothing you've ever experienced before. There’s a perpetual burning wetness between your legs after every encounter with him.

You’re slowly drawn out of your restless sleep by a strange pressure on your lower lips.

You moan softly as your clit gets a flick, and open your eyes. Between your legs, with his cock in his hand and his mouth on your pussy, is your boyfriend.

“Bucky... wh-What...?” You can’t string together enough words to form a sentence and the burning pain between your thighs lets you know that he’s been doing this for a little while now.

He thrusts three fingers inside of you roughly, chuckling as you cry out in pain. He hammers his fingers into you while nibbling on your clit, sending a painful orgasm firing through your body.

You lie still underneath him as he continues to eat you out, desperately attempting to catch your breath. When he finally pulls away you can hardly breathe.

He doesn’t say a word. Instead, he slaps your pussy twice, loving the squeals of pain it pulls from you. He leaves you fucked out and dazed on your bed, covered in sweat and a mixture of cum from yourself and him.

You lie there for a while, trying to gather your wits and understand what the Hell is going on with him. Whatever it is, you absolutely love it.

It continues like this for almost a week.

A week of spontaneous and rough sex whenever he wants, a week of being tossed around like a rag doll, a week of him being rough with you.

It’s bliss.

“C’mon (Y/n)! Come dance with us!” Wanda yells over the loud thumping music of the nightclub.

You down your last shot and tug up the straps of your tight black dress. Your bust is nearly exploding out of the top and your ass looks absolutely amazing.

You follow Wanda to where she and Nat are dancing their feet off, loosening up and relaxing with your girlfriends.

You move your hips to the music, eyes closing as you lose yourself in the beat.

Through the haze of liquor, you can feel someone’s eyes on you. You open your eyes and look to where the feeling is coming from, your eyes meeting your boyfriend’s. He’s staring at you with lust filled eyes, watching your body move.

You close your eyes for a moment and when you open them he’s gone.

A shiver runs down your spine and you feel uncertain for the first time. You can feel him watching him, stalking you as if you’re his prey.

A hand grips your waist and pulls you back against a hot hard body. Teeth are scratching at your neck as a hand snakes up your body and gropes your breasts.

“Bucky,” you breathe, leaning your head back and taking a few deep breaths. He bites your neck lightly and you can’t help but moan softly at the feeling.

His hand covers your mouth and he pulls you through the crowd towards the bathrooms, wasting no time in shoving you into the men’s.

“How bad do you want me to fuck you, baby girl?” You whimper softly and gasp as he tugs your dress down your body, exposing your chest. He hikes it up at the bottom to expose your ass and gives it a harsh smack.

You grip the counter tightly as he bends you over it and plunges two fingers deep inside of you.

“So fucking wet for me already baby. Your pussy is so fucking needy.” You squeeze your eyes shut and your cunt clenches around his fingers.

“Look at that. You’re so fucking desperate for something to fill up that slutty little hole. Don’t worry, I’ve got just the thing.” You hardly register him removing his fingers before the head of his cock is pushing back inside your sopping wet hole.

You release a loud and drawn out moan, your mouth dropping open in pleasure as he starts a rough and quick pace.

“You’ve gotta keep quiet baby, don’t want someone coming in and watching the show. Or do you? Would you rather I brought you out there and fucked you in front of all the people out there?” You moan again, only for it to be cut off by his metal hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing and cutting off your airflow.

You’re forced to be silent as he fucks into you brutally. You can feel bruises developing on your hips from where they’re slamming into the counter’s edge.

Your eyes start rolling, pleasure filling you and taking over your senses. You almost don’t care that the edges of your vision are going dark.

“Your pussy is taking me so good. So fucking good. You gonna be a good girl? Only good girls get to breathe.” You nod as much as you can, tears streaming down your cheeks with mascara following in their tracks.

He releases your throat and you suck in a big breath of air, panting in his grasp as an incredible orgasm tears through your body.

Bucky curses from behind you as you squirt on his cock, but you hardly hear it over the sound of your own panting.

He thrusts a bit harder, his thrusts faltering a bit before he stops, releasing his load inside of your fluttering walls.

“Fuck you feel so good around me. Your pussy is milking my cock, baby girl. Can you feel it?” You moan softly and nod, leaning your head down against your hands on the counter.

“You okay, doll?” He asks after a moment, his warm and cool hands resting on your bare sweaty back.

“Mhm.” He kisses your cheek gently and helps you to your feet, tugging your dress up and pulling his softening cock out of your aching and swollen pussy.

“You said you wanted me to be rougher with you, so I was.”

You look over at him with wide eyes, a smile spreading on your lips.

“Well, Solider. I like the rough you. But I like the soft you just as much.”

~*~

TAGS:

PERMANENT TAGS: @smolbeanbucky @wildefire @inumorph @impalatobakerstreet @nanna022 @mummy-woves-you @m-a-t-91 @wtfholland @bookgirlunicorn @beautifulwisdom2001 @deep-sea-glitter @mrhiddles-81 @iamwarrenspeace @bitchacho25 @escapetheshackles @i-know-i-can @buckyssoul @avnngrs @swoonhui @destiel-artemis @frozenhuntress67 @unlikelygalaxygiver

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#bucky x reader #kinda dark bucky #bucky barnes x reader

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theharellan · 5 years

Text

Guess who read The Dread Wolf Take You!

The Assassin’s Tale:

Three agents. First elf is Dalish, second a city elf, third an ancient elf, which is a good demonstration of the diversity of elven experience among the ranks. I’ll be making another post about Solas’ resources and reach later, likely after I’ve finished reading the other stories, as I know I have comments about some of the other stories where agents are involved.

The Dalish elf says he wants to awaken his gods with the idol, indicating that there’s either differing motives for joining Fen’Harel or he was lying, believing that it would allow him to get what he wants sooner. Both are honestly believable possibilities.

Solas (and his agents, whose ranks also likely include other Dreamers) can kill people in their sleep, even dwarves. This isn’t new information, we’ve known it since Feynriel in DA2, although I am surprised dwarves aren’t immune. I wonder if it would work on Surface dwarves and not Orzammar’s, as magic resistance is explicitly lessened when dwarves leave Orzammar. I imagine it would at least be harder. Based on the Bard’s comments I think in this particular instance and the importance of securing the idol, Solas himself was involved in the assassinations of the sleepers.

Dreams also seem to be places people get instructions/orders, which would confirm a headcanon of mine.

The Mortalitasi’s Tale:

The red lyrium idol is elven, depicting either “two lovers” or “a god mourning her sacrifice.” I should note again that if Mythal/Solas is ever confirmed as romantic I will be going canon divergent on that, but for now it’s still unclear.

The Tevinter mage uses blood sacrifice to get the idol to do its thing, using slaves. Whatever ritual they were doing was interfering with whatever Solas had been doing at the time.

His behaviour in this story reminds me of something he says to the Inquisitor at the start of the game, the first conversation in Haven: “Posturing is necessary.” I’ve long held the headcanon that a lot of Solas’ weight after he became Fen’Harel was a result of deliberately making himself seem scary, what we get in this is a glimpse of the intimidation tactics I think he’s used since Arlathan.

The Mortalitasi thinks he must have bound spirits/demons to accomplish his attack, but this seems unlikely. Solas has his hypocrisies, but Cole notes in Trespasser “he knows how to speak so spirits listen” re: the sanctuary guardians, and it seems more likely the spirits are aiding him freely.

Again, the binding of spirits continues to play a role in Solas’ anger and frustration in the world-- his problems cannot be addressed just by improving the lots of physical elves.

The Bard’s Tale:

I’m rather doubtful of how much of this is true, I do believe he went to Llomerryn and retrieved the idol and that he now has it. Other than that the story is mostly a lot of name drops or references, with everyone from the Warden to Divine Victoria to Xenon to Tallis being referenced.

He describes Solas as touching the idol reverently, clearly it has personal meaning, although given his reaction to the focus breaking it’s probably nice to not find it’s cracked after some human put their hands on it.

I also believe the Ben-Hassrath didn’t listen to his warning at the end of Trespasser, although tbf the vidassala wasn’t in a position to pass the message on.

Addition: Lisa reminded me that the Bard described the idol, and likely has the most accurate interpretation -- “crowned figure who comforted the other” -- again, like the end of Inquisition. This isn’t the first time Solas has had a sad in Mythal’s arms. Why he needed comforting in the scene depicted here is unclear. It could be anything from Mythal’s impending death, to the Veil, to depicting Solas’ feelings after he took physical form at Mythal’s behest.

General Notes:

More wisps being used for really casual things that really could be done by hand, or potentially even just magic by hand, rather than ordering something else to do it for you. From the description of the Mortalitasi putting it away it seems its in the spoon permanently.

First, some notes about The Bard, headcanons included -- ◦ As others have pointed out, Gauche, the name the party is booked under and his alias, means “awkward,” but it also means “left.” It’s a fitting name both because like “Solas” it’s a feeling/state of being, but also the Anchor was on the left hand (and therefore it’s the hand he removes in Trespasser). ◦ Opal inlays, which were apparently in fashion a few years back according to Vivienne banter. ◦ Resembles a dragon, again leaning on Mythal imagery. ◦ My headcanon that Solas knows Orlesian came true (although I also hc it as being limited in DA:I, I think he would have improved it since then). ◦ His manner and accent were coached by agents, specifically I like to think Adélaïde (found on @ourdawncomes) played a role in that, among others. Miraen (Joly’s OC, found on @ancientimpudence) likely helped with the outfit.

The little tells Charter picks up on kills me, like her noting that his hair toss is clumsy and the lack of tan lines indicating he doesn’t typically wear rings. I guess when you’ve been bald a while you forget how hair works, which as sb who has had a pixie cut for a few years... yeah, it tracks.

He can freeze people without turning them to stone, and can also freeze golems.

Solas literally can’t pretend to like tea so he just doesn’t drink it. Like I think he’s physically incapable of not making The Face.

The second he drops the act he sounds more like as we know him, Charter immediately noting he sounds “tired.” His voice falters, he smiles sadly, and smiles again when Charter points out that he’s hardly one to talk about the Executors being dangerous. Speaking of, he doesn’t like the Executors, and frankly they do seem pretty odd.

What he says to Charter after she asks for her life -- Ar lasa mala -- features in the phrase “ar lasa mala revas” or “you are free/I give you your freedom.” Since “revas” Means freedom, my guess is this just means what he says in Common, “I grant it to you.”

The second thing he does after allowing Charter her life is freeing the spirit/wisp in the stirring stick, a detail for which I owe Mx. Weekes my life.

Charter does more than just see through Solas’ disguise, but the line “perhaps we are not the only ones you lied to” is probably one of the best assessments of Solas’ character in the series. It also indicates that Solas’ motivations for approaching in Trespasser were, in part, a lie-- or rather, I think, not the whole truth. Lines about how he hopes to be proven wrong and his appearance here it reinforces that he has self-sabotaging tendencies for this plan, like he wants to be stopped but won’t, possibly can’t stop, which brings me back to Regret: There might have been a better choice-- a thought it had not been allowed.

His plans may not be as destructive as first assumed, it’s noted Tevinter will likely take the brunt of it, but also he notes “the elves who still remain” may find it better when his work is done. I headcanoned ages ago that Solas doesn’t lie to those he allies with about the consequences of his actions, aka the destruction it’ll cause. He’s honest with the Inquisition and telling them the truth, allowing them to know the truth while lying to those he’s working with would be inviting unnecessary betrayal. Solas saying this to Charter is further evidence that the modern elves working with Solas are well-aware of what’s happening and as a whole not being lied to, although I also wouldn’t be surprised if some joined up with different ideas, as the Dalish elf at the start may have.

That Solas’ next move was the lyrium idol (which is also his? Or Mythal’s) indicates that if there are other foci out there, they can’t be wielded by him. This makes sense given his could explicitly only be wielded by him without killing him, so I imagine if there are others out there they’re specific to that evanuris/whatever mage created them.

That he regrets involving and revealing himself in Trespasser is pretty funny considering Solas showed up here in-person for like. Really minor, personal reasons. Again. Then revealed more of his plans. Again. Did I mention the self-sabotage?

It looks like this Solas was neutral-to-high approval, almost definitely not romanced. “Tell them I’m sorry” is a pretty general message, so for the purposes of roleplay he would say different things to everyone’s Inquisitor.

In conclusion: Solas is a loser but im still trash for him.

#( headcanons )#tevinter nights spoilers #dragon age spoilers #he calls himself Pride ( about )#[ i know i'm missing stuff but this is already so long #so if i think of more stuff i'll update it or something ]#v; i walk the din'anshiral ( trespasser )

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kirsten-is-writing · 4 years

Text

Story Of Us - One

“Mr. Nygaard will see you now, Ms. Reynolds,” the secretary tells her, nothing of a smile or emotion flashing across her face as she walks out from the office. “There’s no need to knock since he’s expecting you.”

“Thank you.”

The secretary moves aside as Khloe moves past her into the CEO’s office. Light floods into the room from the window, acting as a well, opposite her as she steps inside and her pace slows in the middle of the room before stopping a couple of meters away from the desk in front of her.

The man, well-dressed in a tailored, slim fitted and grey suit stares out the window in front of him before turning to face her.

“Khloe Reynolds?” A thick, Scandinavian and masculine voice comes from him as a smile twitches upon his face.

“That’s me,” she smiles, offering the man her hand and he takes it.

“Call me Aleksander. Please, my offer.”

“Of course.”

He walks around his desk, his hand sweeping to Khloe’s left. Four, seemingly untouched wooden and grey barrel chairs surround a low, glass table.

“Do you need anything before we...start?” He offers as she gets comfortable in one of the chairs.

Hesitating, Khloe lets out a laugh before answering, “I’m fine, thank you.”

With her answer, another smile spreads across his face as it reaches his eyes.

“Do you...mind if I record this?” Khloe asks as she shifts her bag in front of her legs.

“No, no, please do. I don’t want you getting on Miss Aleyev’s bad side already.”

“Thank you.”

His smile disappears for a moment before reappearing as he sits across from her, “Of course. Ready when you are.”

Inhaling sharply, Khloe pulls up the questions on her tablet and clicked into editing mode. She stares at the device in her hand for a moment, looking up afterward with something of a forced smile.

Tucking and smoothing a hair behind her ear, she says, “Okay, this shouldn’t take long, but you take as much time as you need.”

“Of course.”

She hesitates, looking at the first question before asking him, “In previous interviews, you said that you started up this company almost a decade ago if I’m not mistaken. Over the years, you turned yourself into one of Scandinavia’s most successful businessmen. To what do you owe your success?”

His dark eyes study the woman in front of him, faltering for a moment as he thinks it over.

“Well,” he starts, crossing a leg over the other as he settles into the chair. “It’s all about people, Miss Reynolds, and what they want to aspire to be, their goals, how to motivate them. To achieve success in the business world and industry, one has to be motivated to obtain and master of it, inside and out. I work hard and play hard to make sure the goals are accomplished. My decisions are based on facts and logic, not human emotion since human emotion can be fallible and manipulatable. Bottom line? It’s always down to the good and moral people.”

“Would you also...say...it’s due to luck?”

“I don’t believe in luck, Miss Reynolds. The harder I work, the more doors and opportunities are opened up for me.”

“That’s...very ambitious of you.”

“I’m an ambitious man. I’m sure you heard from your...industry,” the CEO leans forward, uncrossing his legs as he rests his elbows on top. “I don’t let personal connections get in the way. That’s because my business is more important, and I believe that personal connections can affect and manipulate my choices and decisions.”

She looks down at her tablet, trying to word the answer correctly.

“Can you define personal connections for me?” Khloe asks as soon as she’s done writing up his answer.

“Family, the person I’m dating, friends, acquaintances.”

“When you say that your personal connections can affect and manipulate your decisions and such, can you expand more on that? I think I understand, but I don’t know.”

He stands, straightening out his jacket as he walks over to the massive looming over the city as the silence between the two grow.

“Personal connections become emotional attachments,” he tells Khloe as he looks at her, crossing his arms. “Emotional attachments hold power over basic decision-making and choices.”

Khloe, flustered, takes minimal notes before collecting herself again and looks up at him as he takes a few steps to stand in front of her before leaning up against his desk.

“Besides...your job,” she continues, reading off her tablet. “Do you have any hobbies or interests outside of your business?”

“Why does my personal life concern you?”

“There must be some way that you relax besides staying...at your business...all day.”

His arms relaxing, he lets out a breath as he stares at the ground in front of him.

“On the rare occasion I get away from my business,” he begins, his gaze moving back up to Khloe as she shifts in her seat. “I enjoy art, cooking, and traveling.”

“What type of art do you do?”

“Realism, painterly, and photorealism. All done with acrylic, oil, or pencil.”

Clearing her throat, “Do you mind giving me more about cooking and traveling?”

He smiles, his body relaxing as he uncrosses his arms. As he walks back to his chair, he replies, “Cooking is, well, just cooking. I enjoy a lot of foods that you probably haven’t heard of. Traveling...well, it depends on the time of year and the weather. What do you want to know about my travels?”

Khloe, hesitating, gaps at her tablet in silence for a second, looking back at him as she questions him, “What’s the most beautiful country you’ve been to?”

“Beauty’s subjective, Miss Reynolds, but France, Canada, and Japan are the closest that I could think of.”

“What country has the best food?”

“Italy and France.”

“Okay, moving on, if you don’t mind,” Khloe tells him as she finishes up the answers. “You said, in previous interviews, that you invest in architecture, engineering, and technology. Why those three things? Why not...engineering and manufacturing?”

“I’ve always had a...thing for innovation and building new advancements. They’re built to be solid, stable things and no one wants a faulty building or a phone, right?”

“N-no, sir.”

“They’re all very fine businesses, Ms. Reynolds,” he comments. “And they’ve been here since the beginning of time, so why invest in something that doesn’t work when there’s already things out there?”

A knock comes at the door, the secretary coming in and the two exchange words in Norwegian before she leaves a minute later.

“Sorry about that,” he apologizes as something of a half-smile popping upon his face. “I was just informed that my meeting today was canceled.”

Khloe bites her lower lip, “Of...of course.”

“Do you have any more questions for me, Ms. Reynolds?”

“No, sir. I’m afraid this is all that my supervisor’s given me.”

This time, a full smile crosses his face, “That’s fine. I’ll tell her that you’ve done an excellent job.”

“Thank you, sir,” she almost stammers, putting the tablet into her bag and standing.

“Pleasure’s been mine,” he tells her as he extends a hand out after standing, the two shaking for a brief moment. “Until next time.”

“You, too, Mr. Nygaard,” she returns the smile.

TWO

Heart pounding in her throat, Khloe watches as the elevator doors open in front of her and reveal the pristine lobby from an hour earlier. As she takes a shaky breath, she steps out and tries to dart to the exit doors in her heels and almost trips over her feet in the process.

The cool air greets her, the wind picking up as she stops in her tracks and takes in a breath.

#writing #writblr #writeblr #writing community #writblr community #writeblr community

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have-some-gotdamn-faith · 5 years

Note

Oh friend... do I have a request for you. Fem!reader x Pining!Micah. He finds her having a complete breakdown (crying, like the kinda crying you'd only do in the shower cause no one's going to interrupt you and the water is so loud... [guess who's still in her depressive state =D]) but anyway angst, fluff, nsft, sft whatever you'd like. Please and thank you. If you don't wanna, as always it's totally okay and I understand.

I’m sorry to hear you’re still in the dumps, but I’m more than happy to try and help! Order up :D

Additionally, I’m making this my celebratory post for 242 of y’all! I thought it only fitting, considering you were one my first friends in this cowboy hell fandom

Word Count: 1,893 (but it seems WAY longer)

An Unwitting Shoulder (fem!Reader)

Clemen’s Point was a good place to be reflective; water lapped at the shore lazily and, on days where one could manage to get away from camp, there was almost a lulling quality to it.

A cigarette landed on the water with a soft ‘plonk’, and Micah watched it bob for a while with a frown. He hated the silence; it made one think, about things what needn’t be thought about. Thoughts, that led to something even more dangerous:

Hope.

Glancing up, the early morning sky had begun to sink from a dusty blue to hazy and grey—the clouds rolling in were heavy with the promise of a downpour, and soon. The soles of his boots crunched against the harder sediment in the wet earth and, unbidden, you came into his thoughts again.

It was fortunate you were away on duties; he was thankful for the wide brim of his hat, ducking his head down to shield himself from the first trickles of raindrops and any wandering eyes that might fall on an uncharacteristically wistful half-smile. Casting a surreptitious glance into your tent, he saw the small gathering of flower’s he’d left—no name, nothing to identify the origin—resting on your pillow, and Micah’s chest tightened happily.

You’d kept them.

The rain began to come down proper, now, blanketing the camp in a gentle, whispering lullaby. Come to think on it, the errands you’d been sent on shouldn’t have taken quite so long as they were. Before he had a chance to continue that line of thought, hooves thundered through the mud as your companions—Arthur and Charles—returned. Your absence was glaring, and defensive concern spurred him towards the hitching posts.

“You’re back late,” he spat, offering his hand to take as though he were actually being helpful in the burden of spoils. On that regard, he was unanswered—instead, Micah was met with a scoff from both men.

“You keepin’ track like some hen?” Arthur quipped. “We’re back, s’what matters.”

The blond man retracted his offered ‘assistance’, the corners of his lips turning down.

“You’re comin’ back a little light, ain’t’cha?” Micah tossed back, looking over them both with smug disapproval. “I seem to remember three of you leavin’.”

At this both Arthur and Charles looked between each other, sharing a look he couldn’t quite decipher.

“Wasn’t our decision,” Charles hummed, shrugging.

“What’chu mean by that?”

Charles shouldered a hefty haversack, ignoring him in favour of wiping hard at the soaking stains melting down his shirt and making off towards the camp’s communal funds. Arthur followed and, huffing at being so quickly dismissed, Micah brought up the rear.

“I don’t like repeatin’ myself, dar—”

“Then don’t—do us all a favour and shut your mouth.” Charles hadn’t stopped moving, but he shot back a look that threatened any further snide commentary to be met with physical rebuttal.

Arthur barked a laugh, catching the brief moment of baffled surprise on Micah’s face before it snapped to his customary scowl.

“What’chu so adamant for, anyhow?” It was Arthur’s turn to be inquisitive. “You think we’d just leave her without a reason, or makin’ sure she’s okay?”

“I think Dutch’ll wanna know why yer leavin’ our womenfolk all around the countryside—” Micah gestured vaguely, swinging his arm wide behind him. “—when there’s work to be done!”

“I ain’t leave nobody,” he reiterated. “And if you’re so worried, be useful for once an’ do it’cherself.”

It was all Arthur offered, throwing a hand towards him that bordered on shooing, as he turned back to catch up with Charles. Micah’s fingers twitched, itching so badly to go to his pistol. Why he was so fired up over you was hardly a question, but he had to remind himself that he weren’t yet your beau—no one knew how much of a weak spot you’d become to him, and no one would for as long as he had say.

To keep suspicions low he had to let the issue drop, and instead circled wide towards their charismatic leader’s tent. Knowing Dutch’s pet, he’d report dutifully and prompt—sure enough you’d been left in the Saint’s Hotel, and Arthur was already slated to ride back out to check on you first thing tomorrow morning.

How fortunate, then, that someone was already making his way to saddle up Baylock.

Before heading out, Micah grabbed a fresh shirt—his union suit was mildly damp, but not unbearable—and ignored any passing inquiries to his destination. Valentine was a quick ride, made infinitely more tolerable by the rainstorm’s passing, and within a few hours the train station bobbed into view. The high noon sun had warmed the dew to an almost strangling degree and, before hitching his horse to the post, Micah tugged a couple buttons free before stepping inside the wooden building.

Asking for a ‘miss Kilgore’, he was directed up to the last room on the right. He’d barely cleared the landing when your choked sobs made it to his ears, and Micah approached his destination gingerly to keep from giving himself away.

The noises you made were strangled, and skipped any time you fought to take in a breath. Your sorrow was wet, deep-bellied and, unthinking, he pressed the flat of his hand against the door. Micah was absolutely, entirely certain he’d never heard anything so harshly guttural from you—he lost track of how long he spent, listening.

A rapid succession of sniffles and coughing brought him back to reality and why he was there at all, and suddenly his throat was gripped by an invisible hand.

Comfort wasn’t his strong suit, unless it erred on the physical side, and he was very much aware that he had no actual plan, here. He pursed and unpursed his lips, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, before placing his hat on his chest and running uncertain fingers through to smooth his hair.

Knuckles rapped against the door, and the hiccuped attempts at muffling the crying inside only twisted his throat harder.

“A-Arthur?”

“No, but it ain’t any less a friendlier a face.”

The doorknob clicked, and you cracked the door open ever so. Bloodshot eyes met his blue ones, and he couldn’t help but reach up towards you. You watched him, studied him with an occasional hitched breath, and under your gaze he faltered—instead, the pads of his fingers fell on the door gingerly, and a hard exhale left his nostrils.

“I, ah, just wanted to check on you,” he murmured slowly, forcing the words out. “You…didn’t come back with the boys, and, ah…”

His mouth was dry, and Micah snapped his lips shut in the hope he could restore some moisture so he wouldn’t look like a damn fool—

Your hand came up to cover his, thumb running gently back and forth across his knuckles, and he found himself mesmerized. Saying nothing, you gestured to invite him in before stepping further back; he followed your lead, walking inside before closing the door behind him with nary a sound.

You had nothing but a chemise and your skirt on—modesty was the furthest thing from your mind, right now, and Micah wasn’t one to object. He hung his hat on the rack nearby before approaching closer; to test the waters, both hands rested on your bare upper arms.

His touch was rough and calloused, but warm, and you heard him take in a breath when you leaned backwards into his embrace. Leaning down, he very nearly pressed his lips against your shoulder, but his proximity ignited a fresh wave of tears—it was alarming, and Micah stiffened as you buried your face in your hands.

When you turned to push yourself into his chest, it took him a few moments before realizing he ought to wrap himself around you. Any time he tightened his arms, you only cried harder, and it was difficult to decide what it was you truly wanted.

“Come on, sugar pie,” he murmured. It was surprisingly tender, to his disgust, but the gravelly rumble of his low voice pushed you further in, so perhaps it wasn’t so bad. “What’s got you all riled up?”

You shook your head, and your shoulders shook harder.

“Did them boys do somethin’ to you?” It was unlikely, he knew, but having a physical target gave Micah enough resolve to lock his arms securely around you. “You can tell me.”

You shook your head again, confirming what he knew to be logically true. A shame, really—he would have loved any excuse to stroll back into camp with the distinct pursuit of decking Arthur or Charles into the dirt. He might still, if he inflated the fact you were bawling your heart out in his arms. The idea drew a wicked grin across his face.

You choked out something indiscernible, and he pressed his lips into your hair. Micah was deeply grateful you were too wrapped up in your sorrow to see him marinating in such cheshire glee.

“Don’t matter now, I’m here. I gotcha.”

Newly inspired with an ulterior motive, and the chance to be the one to soothe the hot tears spilling down your cheeks, he hummed sweet things to you as one of his hands pushed a heavy, soothing trail up and down your back. Truly, what a unique position he found himself in.

It distracted him from the thought he continuously kept shoving backwards—again, those thoughts. He didn’t dare let it take a foothold that being here, alone, with you threatened to encourage something else.

Happiness.

Contentedness.

The thought alone snapped cold in his gullet, and Micah pushed his attention even harder on you. Cradling you close to his own body and setting his feet apart, he began to sway softly at the hip to ease your nerves. It seemed to be working—your sobs had softened back to hiccups and gurgles, and he whispered sweet encouragement. Fingers combed slowly, awkwardly, through your locks, and he breathed you in when you dug your hands into the breast of his shirt.

“My girl, you gonna be alright,” he whispered. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

He kept digging himself deeper and deeper into this rabbit hole of tenderness, but the reactions Micah got out of you made the lurching vulnerability in his throat easier to bear.

“How’s about I get you some more flowers. Would you like that?”

Bleary-eyed you looked up to him, and he did his absolute damnedest to school his expression into what he hoped could be interpreted as a soft smile. He bore himself against every instinct beat into him, claiming ownership of the flowers waiting for you at camp—he locked his legs into place, hoping to stop the trembling that had taken hold in the joints.

Micah pressed a light kiss to your forehead when you said nothing, unwilling to linger on your skin for his sake more than your own. When you nodded, though, he kissed you again.

“Wash your face, doll—let’s get you some fresh air.”

For now, he could show you that he was a stable foundation, that he was reliable. He needed to buy some time to calm the fluttering in his belly, anyhow, as you pressed a kiss to his cheek before he left you to tidy up.

#madnessismylover #micah bell #micah bell x reader #an unwitting shoulder #micah drabble #red dead imagine #red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead writing #WOW THIS GOT.......REALLY LONG #AND REALLY FLUFFY

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thesouthernpansy · 5 years

Text

sacred geometry (3/?)

stanford pines/bill cipher chapter 3/?

ford arrived at backupsmore university ready to put his head down and get lost in his classwork. his new roommate seemed to have come prepared to haul him back out, again.

that, and eat uncooked blocks of ramen.

somehow, that isn't even the weirdest thing happening on campus, and the prospect of strange new mysteries and stranger new friends has ford feeling almost glad to be here.

it's a college au, let's crack some books

read on ao3

For months, now, Ford has been chasing stories, anecdotes from friends of classmates and acquaintances about unexplained lights, disembodied voices, unidentified creatures prowling the quad in broad daylight. He's met with anyone and everyone willing to share their accounts with him—some witnesses have been more hesitant than others, but no one can say Ford has been anything less than persistent. What they can, and have, said has begun to earn him something of a reputation among the student body, though even that has had its uses. Those touched by this nebulous weirdness have begun seeking Ford out deliberately; many of his more close-minded and incurious peers, conversely, have begun deliberately avoiding him.

Both have saved Ford a great deal of time and effort, in their ways.

There's a map that Ford has kept on his person constantly since it was given to him brand new during orientation, now perilously soft where he's folded and unfolded it so many times. It's plotted extensively with numbered red circles, each with their own corresponding entry in Ford's journal, all grouped sparsely along one of three precise, hand-drawn lines. Where the lines intersect they form a perfect equilateral triangle, connecting the building that houses the financial aid department to the Beta Delta Theta fraternity house to the Warbleheim Concert Hall and back again. The shape is clustered so densely with red circles they can barely be distinguished from one another.

“I've been observing the area exhaustively, and all the data I've been able to gather suggests not only that all the supernatural phenomena reported at Backupsmore has a substantial basis in reality, but that the vast majority of it originates in this spot specifically.”

Bill blinks. “I thought we were talking about ley lines.”

“We are!” Ford catches the excited crack in his voice too late to stop it. He clears his throat as discreetly as he can as he turns the map back towards Bill. He taps again at the red triangle, the geographic heart of Backupsmore's crowded campus, and the lines that form it. “These denote the perimeter of the phenomena's epicenter, and they correspond precisely with the mapped ley lines in the area. For all practical purposes, they're the same lines!”

Bill hmms thoughtfully. “A confluence of mysterious and powerful energies at ol' Backupsmore, huh? No wonder so much weird stuff happens around here.”

“Exactly.” Something surges in Ford's stomach, buzzes through his chest and out to the tips of his fingers. Bill gets it.

Gathering the journal from Ford's hands, Bill spins on his heel to glance down at the grid paper carpet still adorning the floor. He looks between it and the equations he's holding several times before waving towards the observatory's open ceiling, mouth slanted sideways.

“So you're, what, trying to figure out if the ley lines are a gemini?”

Astrology. Ford rolls his eyes; some of his beliefs may be unconventional, but they're all backed by known science. Mostly.

“More like keeping track of the correlation between unexplained activity and significant celestial positioning.”

“And?” prompts Bill.

“So far, the data is inconclusive at best,” Ford admits. “But I still believe it's worth recording.”

“Sure, sure,” says Bill, “What's with all this, though?”

Tucking Ford's journal under his arm, Bill twirls a hand over a spot on Ford's star chart where Ford went through the trouble of connecting the stars in Capricornus, one of dozens of constellations that have all received the same attention.

“Let me guess, it's 'a helpful shorthand method for identifying sectors of the sky'?” he asks in a tenor that Ford recognizes, rankled, as an incredibly accurate impression of his own.

“They're not—” Every vector and sector and quadrant of the star chart is clearly, painstakingly, and obviously labeled, which makes it difficult to argue that the additional factor of the constellations doesn't clog it up, make it harder to understand. Still, they're not unhelpful, not for Ford, but to say that would be to admit the full, uncomfortable truth that he's allowed sentiment to infiltrate his otherwise scientifically pristine proceedings.

He settles for “It's complicated.”

“Now we're getting somewhere! What am I sensing here, an old betrayal? A deep, cosmos-related wound?”

“Bill—”

“Who hurt you, Fordsy, what fault did they leave in your stars?”

Bill swoons dramatically against Ford's arm, and the sudden urge to laugh gets tangled with the hook of rising anger in Ford's chest.

“You can't just assume—” he falters, feeling Bill shift to look up at him. What is he even talking about, surely they're both wondering it, now. Can't just assume that he knows Ford, that he can read what and why and how like even Ford's most private and embarrassing motivations are a simple study of reacting atoms; can't assume that Ford wants him to know, wants him to understand, wants him constantly hanging off Ford like Ford's invited the physical contact or even permitted it.

Ford screws his eyes shut, inhales sharply and scrubs a hand under his glasses. He feels the loss of heat when Bill moves away.

“That bad?”

“I know them well, that's all. The constellations were my, my gateway to the rest of the universe, I suppose. I've known them like the back of my hand since I was a kid. The whole back of my hand,” he adds, almost conciliatory. “They were meant to be of a more practical use, eventually.”

“Little Fordsy, still thinking big?”

“I thought so,” replies Ford wryly. “We were going to use them for navigational purposes.”

“We?”

Panic churns briefly through Ford's stomach. He should've anticipated this possibility; he has the barest scraping of experience keeping secrets from anyone who isn't his parents, which is really such a dramatic connection to make, he thinks. It isn't as though he's intentionally been keeping Stan a secret. Still it's reluctant and strangely, fleetingly guilty when he can finally get the words out.

“My, ah, my brother and I. We found this dinghy one summer when we were...who can remember, now, but we spent the season patching it up and making plans about traveling the vast oceans, seeing the world and solving mysteries, exploring the unexplored.”

Ford glances sideways at Bill self-consciously. No one else at Backupsmore knows that Ford has a brother, not even Fiddleford, and honestly Ford has preferred it that way. Every part of their lives was shared until Ford left, no inch even of his impossible childhood dreams left to Ford alone, and if it had been up to Stan that's how it would've stayed.

Somehow, the Stan O'War remains an island in the mess it all came to, surrounded and yet untouched by the anger and resentment Ford's twin precipitates in him. A simpler time, when the whole world was still open to him and he knew with his fierce child's certainty that it he would one day make his mark on it.

Ford sighs heavily. “We were going to find Atlantis,” he says.

“Ugh, Plato again.”

This time, Ford does laugh. Bill curls long fingers around his wrist.

“Aw, look who's got a warm, gooey center underneath all those big brains. You're the full package!”

“Don't mock me,” says Ford.

“I'm not mocking you,” insists Bill. “I'm teasing you. There's a big difference.”

From the corner of his eye, Ford can see Bill's head angled to meet his gaze. He looks down at his hands, instead.

“Where's your brother now?” Bill asks.

“Who knows,” says Ford, venom in his voice. “He was one a one-way street to nowhere the last time I saw him. As far as I'm concerned, that's where he belongs.”

“Sounds like there's a story there,” notes Bill.

“No story that's worth telling. Let it suffice to say that it's his fault I'm wasting my talents in this sad excuse for a school instead of at West Coast Tech, where someone of my intellect and ability ought to be. No offense,” he adds quickly, remembering.

“None taken! I'm here because I want to be.”

Ford's attention snags on this detail. “Really?”

“I know, I know, my intellect and abilities are atrophied and depressed, it's very tragic. Hey—“ Bill points up through the observatory roof at the familiar axis of The Big Dipper. “Tell me about that one, Starman.”

Ford wrinkles his nose at the new nickname. “What about it?”

“Anything! Everything, all the news that's fit to print.”

“Something tells me you already know anything I could tell you.”

“Sure, but I want to hear it from you. What's that one?”

“Which one?” Ford squints to catch the pattern in the cluster of stars Bill indicates without success.

“That one, right there. It's a perfect triangle, look—those three, right next to that reddish one.”

“There's no constellation there,” says Ford.

“That you know of,” says Bill cryptically.

“Because you're making it up right now?” asks Ford, charmed despite himself.

Bill grins, tightens his grip on Ford's wrist just a fraction, his thumb pressed against the soft curve Ford's pulse.

“Humor me,” he entreats. “What's it called?”

Ford knows a vast amount about the heavens, their movements, configurations, and effects, their secrecies and the awe they open up inside him—suddenly, ridiculously, none of it seems like enough. Certainly none of it helps him floundering to find a satisfying answer against the nervous, noisy background radiation of his own heartbeat, of which he is currently all too aware.

“Uh,” he offers lamely. “William?”

"...William?" Bill seems genuinely thrown by the suggestion.

Heat creeps up the back of Ford's neck. "Bill isn't short for William?"

A beat of silence, and then Bill laughs, harsh and loud and bright. “Ha! Well played, Fordsy, nice try. I said it's a nickname, I didn't say it's an abbreviation."

“I see,” says Ford carefully, but his looming humiliation has no time to set in; Bill snaps Ford's journal shut and gestures towards him with the spine.

“What do you know about Lemuria?”he asks. The expression Ford makes in response must be telling. “The Polarians? The Hyperboreans? The lost civilization of Mu?”

“Is this more Plato?” asks Ford.

In response, Bill chucks the journal at him, but he's grinning all the same. “Getting fresh on me! Okay. If you chicken-and-egged the room you'd know that Lemuria came before Atlantis, thank you very much. Those water-logged chumps sank Lemuria like the bag of crystals it was, but you know how it is—a whole bunch of the Lemurian citizens escaped to the far corners of your primitive earth and taught the wide and varied indigenous peoples how to make calenders and build the pyramids and all that mystic stuff. Or maybe they were aliens, were the pyramids aliens?”

If he rolled his eyes any harder, Ford thinks, he would probably sprain something.

“What,” says Bill, “you don't believe in extradimensional intelligence?”

“Of course I do,” snaps Ford. “I also think it's disrespectful to assume our ancestors needed aliens to figure out that a pyramid is the best shape to build for structural impact and endurance.”

Bill beams at him. “When are you done with classes tomorrow?”

“I—what? Why?”

“We haven't had a game in a while. I'd say we're past due for a rematch, wouldn't you? Or we could skip to the inevitable and you could just treat me to pizza.”

Chess, Ford realizes. Bill is talking about chess.

“A rematch,” he says slowly. “You know, I have been practicing.”

“That so?”

“I think I could beat you this time,” Ford tells him. He and Fiddleford have been playing nearly every morning before ecological statistics, and it diminishes the difficultly of Fiddleford as an opponent not at all to acknowledge that the lion's share of the victories have gone to Ford.

Bill tugs at Ford's tie, mussing it before he tightens and straightens and smooths it neatly along Ford's chest.

“We'll have to see about that then, won't we?” He pauses to adjust his sunglasses. “I take it you know where the concert hall is, so meet me there, five o'clock sharp.”

“Are you a music major?” tries Ford.

“Hmmm, getting warmer,” Bill tells him.

“You play an instrument,” Ford guesses.

Shrugging, Bill responds, “I've been known to tickle an ivory or two in my day. Maybe if you're good I'll play for you sometime. You like Vera Lynn?”

“Yes, actually,” says Ford. Something stirs in the pit of his chest.

Bill taps his chest, once, twice, fingers lingering this time.

“It's a date.”

#gravity falls #billford #stanford pines #bill cipher #my fic

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