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prosegalaxy · 8 months

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"Aria and Zara: The Battle for Elthera" This is the summary of your work so far: The human asks for a Sci-Fi story set in Elthera featuring Aria and her long-lost family member Zara. In the story, Aria encounters Zara at an ancient tree, where Zara reveals their collaboration with Kael and pleads for trust. With Drakon's guidance, Aria confronts Kael and saves Elthera from destruction. The AI then expands the story by adding dialogues between Aria and Zara as they discuss their collaboration with Kael and Drakon's guidance, ultimately leading Aria to confront Kael and save Elthera.

Drakon gazed into Aria's eyes, his ancient wisdom reflecting in the depths of his gem-like scales. "Aria, Zara has been drawn to the dark force known as Kael. Together, they plot to shatter Elthera and bend its inhabitants to their will. You must choose between trusting your instincts or following Zara blindly. Be cautious, for appearances can be deceiving." Aria's resolve strengthened; she knew she had to believe in herself and her abilities to save her beloved home and its inhabitants. Aria's heart raced as she approached the ancient tree where Zara was supposed to meet her. The air buzzed with anticipation, and Aria could feel the excitement of the surrounding wildlife. She hesitated for a moment before deciding to trust her instincts and press on. As she drew closer, she noticed an eerie silence, a stark contrast to the usual cacophony of nature's sounds. Her heart sank as she realized something was amiss. Aria: "Zara? Are you here?" She called out nervously, her voice shaking with anxiety. Zara: A figure emerged from behind the tree, her face hidden in shadows. "Aria," she hissed, stepping forward into the light. "I'm glad you came." Aria: Her heart raced as she looked at the stranger before her. This wasn't the warm, loving sister she remembered from her dreams. "Who are you?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. Zara: "I am your long-lost family member, Aria. And I have come for a purpose." She paused dramatically, allowing the tension to build. "Aria, we must work together. The fate of Elthera depends on it." Aria: Her instincts screamed at her to run, but she stayed put, trying to make sense of the situation. "What do you mean? What's happening in Elthera?" In the heart of Elthera, an ancient tree stood as a testament to the wisdom and history of the land. Aria, a young woman with a gift for communicating with animals, wandered near its roots one day. She felt a presence, something strange and unfamiliar. Soon enough, she spotted Zara, a figure emerging from the shadows. Zara: "Aria? Is it really you?" Aria: "Zara? I thought you were lost forever!" Zara: "I am back, and we need to talk. Time is running out for Elthera." Aria's instincts warned her that something was off. Zara seemed different, her eyes filled with darkness. But Aria knew she couldn't just abandon her sister in need. Zara: "I have been working with the dark force Kael to save our home. It's the only way to defeat him." Aria: "But why, Zara? Why would you align yourself with such evil?" Zara: "It was a choice born out of desperation. We must do whatever it takes to protect Elthera and its inhabitants." Aria hesitated, her instincts screaming at her to run. But she knew that the fate of Elthera rested in her hands. She had to make a decision. As the sun dipped below the horizon, Aria stood tall, her eyes filled with resolve. With Zara by her side and Drakon's guidance, they would face Kael together. The sisters were ready to confront their destinies and save Elthera from destruction. Aria had always been drawn to the ancient tree in Elthera, a place where she felt a strange connection to the land and its inhabitants. As she approached the tree one day, she could sense the presence of another, someone familiar yet unknown. Her instincts warned her to leave, but curiosity got the better of her. As she stepped closer to the tree, Aria saw a figure emerge from behind its massive trunk. She was taken aback, for the woman before her claimed to be her long-lost family member, Zara. Aria's instincts screamed at her to run, but something in Zara's eyes kept her rooted to the spot. Zara approached Aria with a sense of urgency. "I know you don't believe me, but I am your sister," she said. "We must work together if we are to save Elthera from destruction." Aria hesitated, her instincts still telling her that something was off about Zara. Yet, the love and desperation in Zara's voice made it difficult for Aria to reject her pleas outright. "What do you mean?" she asked, trying to sound calm and composed. "I have been working with Kael, a dark force that threatens our home," Zara revealed, her eyes filled with sadness. "We need to combine our abilities to defeat him and save Elthera." Aria struggled to understand the situation, her instincts clashing with Zara's words. She could feel Drakon nearby, a wise old dragon who had always guided her. With his help, she knew she could uncover the truth. In the end, Aria chose to trust in Zara and face Kael together, discovering their true potential as they saved Elthera from destruction. The sisters' bond was forged through adversity, and together with Drakon, they would protect their home for generations to come. Aria stood beneath the ancient tree, its roots spreading wide like a thousand arms embracing Elthera itself. She had always felt connected to this place, as if the very lifeblood of the world flowed through her veins. But now, she was faced with an unfamiliar presence - Zara, the long-lost family member she never knew existed. "Aria," Zara's voice was a whisper carried on the wind, "I am your sister. We must work together." Aria's instincts screamed at her to run, but something in Zara's eyes kept her rooted in place. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, her voice barely above a whisper. Zara sighed, a wistful expression on her face. "We must stop Kael before he destroys Elthera." Aria's heart pounded, the weight of Zara's words heavy upon her. "I don't trust you," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "Trust me, Aria," Zara pleaded, her eyes filled with sincerity. "I am not your enemy." In that moment, Aria made her choice. She could follow her instincts and flee, or trust in the stranger before her. With Drakon's guidance, she discovered her true potential and faced both Zara and Kael together. As they defeated the dark force and saved Elthera, Aria realized that family was more than blood - it was a bond forged by love, trust, and loyalty. And in the end, it was a choice that would change the course of their lives forever. Aria stepped cautiously into the heart of Elthera's ancient forest, her heart pounding with anticipation and fear. She had heard whispers of an ancient tree, a place where she might finally find answers about her long-lost family member, Zara. As Aria approached the tree, she could sense the presence of animals all around her, communicating through the delicate dance of the wind. Suddenly, the branches of the ancient tree rustled, and out stepped a figure. It was Zara, standing before Aria with an air of confidence that chilled Aria to the bone. "Aria," Zara began, her voice low and menacing, "I have been waiting for you. You see, I am not your enemy, but rather a friend. We share a common goal: to bring balance back to Elthera." Aria couldn't believe what she was hearing. Zara, the person she had longed to find, was working with the dark force Kael to destroy Elthera? It seemed impossible. "No," Aria stammered, her voice trembling with disbelief. "Zara, you can't do this! We don't need destruction; we need harmony." With a sigh, Zara looked at Aria with sadness in her eyes. "Aria, I never wanted this. Kael promised me that by destroying Elthera, we could all live in peace. But now, I see the truth: he intends to enslave us all, humans and animals alike." In that moment, Aria resolved to save Elthera. With Drakon's guidance, she would confront Kael and defeat him, even if it meant facing her own family in the process. And as she stood before the ancient tree with Zara, she realized that family wasn't about blood; it was a bond forged by love, trust, and loyalty. Aria stood before an ancient tree, its branches sprawled like gnarled fingers reaching for the heavens. The tree was a beacon of life in the heart of Elthera's vast expanse of rock and sand. Her heart raced as she sensed another presence nearby, a presence she had never felt before. Aria: "Hello? Who's there?" She called out cautiously, her voice echoing through the still air. Zara: A figure emerged from behind the tree, their eyes glowing with an ethereal light. "Aria, it's me... Zara." The figure spoke, their voice a haunting whisper carried by the wind. Aria: "Zara?" She breathed, incredulous. "But... how is that possible? We're family, but I never knew you existed!" Zara: "We are family indeed," Zara confirmed with a sad smile. "I have been watching over you from afar, waiting for the right moment to reveal myself." Aria: "Why haven't you tried to find me before?" She demanded, her curiosity warring with her unease. Zara: "Because I have been working with Kael," Zara admitted, their voice cracking with emotion. "He is a dark force determined to destroy Elthera, and I... I couldn't stand in his way." Aria: "But that's wrong!" Aria exclaimed, her heart aching for the beautiful world she had grown to love. "Elthera deserves protection, not destruction!" Zara: "I know," Zara said softly, tears streaming down their face. "And I want to help you save it, Aria." As Aria stepped into the heart of Elthera, she noticed an ancient tree that seemed to call out to her. Its branches were gnarled and wide, as if it had stood there for centuries. The tree was a place where whispers of the past lingered in the air. Aria approached the tree and felt a sudden chill down her spine. Out of nowhere, Zara appeared before her, her eyes filled with guilt. "Aria, I never wanted this," she said, her voice quivering. "What are you talking about, Zara?" Aria asked, confusion clouding her eyes. Zara hesitated for a moment before confessing, "I've been working with Kael. We're trying to destroy Elthera." Aria couldn't believe her ears. "Why would you do that? You can't just turn your back on our home." "It was the only way I could gain his trust. I never wanted this, Aria," Zara pleaded. Before Aria could process what she had heard, Drakon appeared beside her. "Aria, listen to me. We can still stop them," he said, his voice full of determination. Together, they set off to confront Kael and save their beloved Elthera. As they fought against the dark forces, Aria couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness for Zara, who had been manipulated into following Kael. In the end, Aria and Drakon managed to defeat both Kael and Zara, saving Elthera from destruction. As they stood amidst the ruins of their battle, Aria realized that family wasn't just about blood ties; it was about love, trust, and loyalty. And in that moment, she knew that they would always be bound by more than just family name. Aria's eyes widened as she stood before the ancient tree, its roots entwining the very essence of Elthera. The tree was alive with energy, and she could sense the presence of Zara nearby. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. As Aria approached the tree, she heard Zara's voice, tinged with an emotion she couldn't quite place. "Aria, I never thought I would see you again." "Zara," Aria whispered, her heart pounding in her chest. "What are you doing here?" "I'm working with Kael to destroy Elthera," Zara confessed, her voice thick with sadness. "We have no choice, Aria. The darkness threatens everything we know." Aria couldn't believe it. Her long-lost family member, betraying their home for a cause she didn't understand. In that moment, Aria made a decision. She wouldn't let Zara be consumed by the dark force of Kael. With determination etched on her face, she stepped forward and said, "Zara, I don't agree with what you're doing, but we can still find another way." Together, Aria and Drakon confronted Kael in a battle that shook the very foundations of Elthera. The clash of power was a spectacle to behold, but ultimately, Aria emerged victorious. She had defeated both Kael and Zara, saving her home and its inhabitants from destruction. In the aftermath, Aria realized that true family wasn't about blood ties, but about love, trust, and loyalty. It was a bond forged by shared experiences and understanding, not merely a connection by blood. And with this newfound wisdom, Aria, Zara, and Drakon embarked on a journey to rebuild Elthera, stronger and more united than ever before. In the heart of Elthera, a land where magic and nature coexisted in harmony, Aria, a young woman with an extraordinary gift, was on a quest. She had the rare ability to communicate with animals, an essential skill for maintaining balance in their world. One day, while wandering through the ancient forest, she stumbled upon an enigmatic figure - her long-lost family member, Zara. The encounter sent chills down her spine as she sensed something was amiss. Zara revealed her collaboration with the dark force, Kael, and their plans to destroy Elthera. Aria's heart raced, torn between her loyalty to her family and her duty to protect the land she loved. In that moment, a voice whispered in her mind - Drakon, the wise spirit of the forest, offering guidance and support. Aria approached Zara cautiously, their eyes locked in a tense stare. "Why are you doing this, Zara?", Aria asked, her voice trembling. Zara's eyes filled with sadness as she replied, "I didn't have a choice. Kael promised power and a chance to reunite our family." Aria realized that confronting Kael was the only way to save Elthera. With Drakon's guidance, they set out on a treacherous journey, facing dangerous creatures and unraveling Kael's sinister plot. As they ventured deeper into darkness, Aria grappled with her own heart, torn between blood ties and the love she had for Elthera. Finally, they found themselves face-to-face with Kael. In a climactic battle, Aria and Zara fought alongside each other, their hearts bound by love, trust, and loyalty. Together, they defeated Kael and his dark forces, saving Elthera from destruction. In that moment, Aria realized the true meaning of family - it was about love, trust, and loyalty, not just blood ties. The bond between Aria and Zara had never been stronger, and their lives were forever changed. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow across Elthera's vast landscape, Aria stood before an ancient tree. Its gnarled branches stretched towards the heavens, whispering tales of the past. It was here that she would find her long-lost family member, Zara. "Aria," Zara called softly, emerging from the shadows. Her eyes were filled with a mix of fear and hope. "I never thought I'd see you again." "What are you doing here, Zara?" Aria asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "I thought we were sisters, bound by blood and love." "We are," Zara replied, "but I had no choice. Kael promised me power, and I wanted to protect Elthera at any cost." Aria's heart ached, but she knew that family meant more than just shared DNA. "Zara, you don't have to do this anymore. We can still be sisters, fight together for Elthera." "You don't understand," Zara said, her voice trembling. "Kael has given me a task, and I must complete it. If I don't, he'll destroy everything we know." Aria looked towards the horizon, where dark clouds began to gather. Drakon appeared beside her, his golden scales shimmering in the fading light. "Aria, you must trust me," he said, his voice firm and steady. "I will help you stop Kael and save Elthera." Together, they set off, determined to confront the dark force that threatened their home. As Aria faced her own family, she realized that true family wasn't about blood ties alone; it was a bond forged by love, trust, and loyalty. This realization gave her strength, and with Drakon at her side, she resolved to protect Elthera from the impending destruction. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over Elthera's lush landscape, Aria stood beneath an ancient tree. It was here that she had last seen her long-lost family member, Zara. The moment she saw the figure approaching, her heart raced with a mixture of excitement and fear. "Aria," Zara whispered, stepping out from behind the tree's massive roots. "I have missed you." Aria hesitated, unsure if she should trust her sister. But as Zara reached out to embrace her, a sudden warmth filled her heart, confirming the bond of love and family they shared. "Zara, I can sense something is wrong," Aria murmured, feeling a growing unease. Zara took a deep breath before revealing the truth. "I have been working with Kael, the dark force threatening Elthera." Aria's eyes widened in shock, but she knew she must confront her sister. With Drakon's guidance, Aria sought out Kael in the heart of Elthera. The battle that ensued was fierce, but their love for each other and the planet they called home ultimately triumphed over the darkness. Together, Aria and Zara defeated Kael and his malevolent powers, saving Elthera from destruction. In that climactic moment, Aria realized that family wasn't just about blood ties; it was about love, trust, and loyalty. The sisters' bond had been forged anew, forever changing their lives and the future of Elthera. Aria and Zara's encounter at the ancient tree in Elthera: Aria stood in front of the ancient tree, its roots twisting deep into the earth like gnarled fingers. She had always felt a connection with this place, a feeling that went beyond her ability to communicate with animals. As she reached out to touch the bark, a shadowy figure emerged from the tree's embrace. "Zara?" Aria whispered, her heart racing. The figure nodded, her once familiar face now twisted with darkness. "I never thought I would see you again," Aria continued, trying to mask her fear. Zara stepped out of the shadows, revealing a sinister smile. "And I never thought I would see you, either, sister." She glanced around, ensuring they were alone. "We have much to discuss, but first, we must reveal our secret to each other." Aria's heart pounded in her chest as Zara pulled back her hood, revealing a mark on her forehead that Aria had never seen before - a symbol of Kael's dark power. Aria recoiled, tears welling up in her eyes. "How could you?" she cried, her voice cracking with emotion. Zara reached out to touch Aria's face gently. "Please, sister," she pleaded, her voice filled with sadness. "I never wanted this. I tried to resist him, but he had control over me." Aria stared at Zara, torn between anger and sorrow. She knew that beneath the darkness, her long-lost family member still existed. With Drakon's guidance, they would find a way to save Elthera and restore their bond. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm hue over the ancient tree in Elthera where Aria and Zara stood. Aria's heart raced as she realized her long-lost family member was involved with the dark force Kael, set on destroying their home. "Aria," Zara began, her voice wavering, "I never wanted this. I had no choice." Aria's eyes widened in disbelief. "Zara, how could you?" she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. Drakon, a wise and enigmatic figure, appeared at the edge of the clearing, offering his guidance to Aria. "Trust your instincts, Aria," he advised softly, stepping closer. As Aria's bond with Drakon grew stronger, she felt her connection to Zara waver. She knew she had to confront Kael and save Elthera from destruction. With newfound determination, Aria faced her family member in a climactic moment of truth. "You can still turn back, Zara," Aria pleaded, her voice steady despite the fear coursing through her veins. "Join us in fighting for Elthera." Zara hesitated, torn between loyalty to Kael and her love for her home. But ultimately, Aria's words resonated within her heart. With a deep breath, she turned away from Kael and joined Aria and Drakon. Together, they confronted the dark force and saved Elthera from destruction. In that moment, Aria realized that family was more than blood; it was a bond forged by love, trust, and loyalty. The once divided sisters now stood united, their lives forever changed by the power of love and understanding. Aria stared at the ancient tree, its twisted roots sprawling out like a web of secrets. She hesitated before stepping forward, her heart pounding. As she approached, she saw a figure sitting beneath the gnarled branches. "Zara?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. The figure turned, revealing Zara's familiar face. Aria couldn't believe it was true. "Zara..." "Aria," Zara smiled, standing up to embrace her sister. "I have missed you." "But... how?" Aria asked, pulling away. "Why are you working with Kael? Why are you trying to destroy Elthera?" Zara sighed, a heavy sadness in her eyes. "Aria, I never wanted this. But Kael offered me power, a chance to protect our people. I believed him, but it was all a lie." She paused, tears welling up in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Aria. I didn't want to hurt you, but I had no choice." Aria's heart ached, but she couldn't let Zara walk away. "Zara, we can stop this together. We don't need Kael or his darkness. Family is more than blood, it's love, trust, and loyalty. Let's be true family and save Elthera." With that, Aria knew they had a chance to change their fates. Together, they would face the dark forces threatening their world and find the strength in their bond to save their home. In the golden light of the setting sun, Aria stood before the ancient tree she had heard tales about since childhood. Its gnarled branches stretched towards the sky like outstretched arms, its roots deep within the heart of Elthera. As she approached, the tree seemed to hum with a life all its own, and her heart raced in anticipation. Suddenly, the branches rustled as if in response, and out stepped Zara. Aria's long-lost family member, her face a mixture of shock and relief at finding her sister after so many years apart. "Aria," Zara whispered, her voice laced with trepidation. "I never thought I'd find you again." "What are you doing here, Zara?" Aria asked cautiously, her mind racing with questions. Zara hesitated before replying. "I... I have been working with Kael. We're trying to bring balance to Elthera, but it means we must destroy some of its most sacred places." Aria could feel the weight of her sister's words, the implications heavy in the air. But she also knew that destroying Elthera was not the answer. With newfound determination, she said, "Zara, I don't care about blood ties anymore. Family is about love, trust, and loyalty. We can find a different way to protect Elthera." In that moment, Drakon appeared, his presence both comforting and ominous. He nodded at Aria's words, his eyes filled with understanding. "Together, we will confront Kael and save Elthera," he said firmly. With Drakon's guidance, Aria and Zara faced Kael in the heart of Elthera. The battle was fierce, but ultimately, Aria defeated both Kael and her own sister. As they stood amidst the remnants of the conflict, Aria realized that family wasn't determined by blood; it was forged by love, trust, and loyalty. Their lives had changed forever, their bond now stronger than ever before. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over Elthera's lush landscape. Aria stood beneath an ancient tree, its gnarled branches extending out like the arms of a loving parent. She could sense the life within the forest, their whispers and thoughts reaching her telepathically. Aria had always known that she was different, able to communicate with animals in ways no one else could. But as she approached the tree, she felt something unsettling. A presence lurked nearby, not quite animal, but something more sinister. As she drew closer, a figure emerged from the shadows, her long-lost family member Zara. Zara's eyes glowed with an eerie light, and Aria could sense a darkness within her. "You should leave, Aria," Zara warned, her voice cold and detached. "This is none of your concern." Aria tried to reason with her sister, but Zara refused to listen, revealing that she was working with the dark force Kael, intent on destroying Elthera. Aria's heart ached as she realized the truth: Zara had chosen darkness over love and loyalty. In that moment, Aria resolved to save Elthera, even if it meant turning her back on her own family. With Drakon's guidance, she found the strength to confront Kael. Together, they fought against the darkness, their bond stronger than any blood ties. In the end, Aria saved Elthera and defeated both Kael and Zara, realizing that true family was forged by love, trust, and loyalty, not just blood. Aria stood before an ancient tree in Elthera, its gnarled branches reaching out as if beckoning her closer. She could feel the life force of the tree, the animals nearby communicating with her through their thoughts. As she approached the tree, she noticed a figure hiding in the shadows, and her heart skipped a beat. The figure stepped forward, revealing herself as Zara, Aria's long-lost family member. "Aria," Zara whispered, her eyes filled with both fear and determination. "We need to talk." "What are you doing here, Zara?" Aria demanded, her voice barely audible. "I thought we were done with each other." Zara took a deep breath before revealing the truth. "I'm working with Kael, the dark force threatening Elthera. We need to destroy it before it destroys us all." Aria recoiled at Zara's words, but Drakon's voice echoed in her mind. "Trust your instincts, Aria," he warned. "Not everyone can be trusted." "I don't understand how you could betray our family," Aria said, her heart aching with disappointment. "But I won't let you or Kael destroy Elthera." Together, Aria and Drakon sought out Kael, their determination fueled by love for their home and loyalty to one another. As they confronted Kael in the heart of Elthera's darkest forest, Aria realized that family wasn't defined by blood, but by the bonds forged through love, trust, and loyalty. With Drakon's guidance, she defeated both Kael and Zara, saving Elthera and changing their lives forever. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over Elthera's lush landscape as Aria approached an ancient tree. It was here that she would finally meet her long-lost family member, Zara. As Aria drew closer, she could sense the presence of animals nearby, eager to communicate with her. Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows. "Aria," Zara whispered softly, her eyes filled with tears. "I didn't want it to come to this." Confused and hurt, Aria took a step back. "What are you talking about, Zara?" she asked, her voice trembling. Zara hesitated, then confessed, "I've been working with the dark force, Kael, to destroy Elthera. I didn't have a choice." Aria's heart ached as she realized the truth. How could her own family member betray their home? Just then, Drakon appeared, his eyes blazing with determination. "Aria, we must confront Kael and save Elthera," he said, his voice firm and unyielding. Together, they ventured into the heart of darkness, guided by Drakon's wisdom and Aria's bond with the animals. As they faced off against Kael and Zara, Aria realized that family was more than blood – it was a bond forged by love, trust, and loyalty. In that moment, Aria made a choice. She would save Elthera, even if it meant defying her own family. And in doing so, she discovered the true meaning of family: love, trust, and loyalty, not just blood ties. Aria stood before the ancient tree, its gnarled branches reaching out like arms of wisdom. She had heard whispers of this place, where the secrets of Elthera were whispered between the leaves. As she approached, a sudden breeze rustled the leaves, and in that moment, Zara materialized before her. "Aria!" Zara exclaimed, her eyes filled with a mix of joy and fear. "I've been searching for you, sister." "Sister?" Aria repeated, disbelief echoing in her voice. She took in the familiar features of this stranger, who shared her eyes and the curve of her jaw. Zara nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. "We must trust Kael," Zara pleaded, gripping Aria's hands tightly. "He has a plan to save Elthera, but he needs our help." Drakon appeared at the edge of the clearing, his massive frame casting a reassuring shadow over them. He looked to Aria and Zara, then back at the horizon, nodding solemnly. Together, they set out towards the heart of Elthera, where Kael awaited their arrival. Aria's heart pounded as they approached Kael's lair. She hesitated, glancing at Zara for reassurance, but found only determination in her sister's eyes. With Drakon leading the way, they entered the ancient cavern and confronted Kael face-to-face. "You have no idea what you're getting into," Aria warned, her voice steady despite the pounding of her heart. But it was Zara who stepped forward, reaching out to touch Kael's arm. "We trust you, Kael." In that moment, a wave of energy washed over them all, and Aria felt the truth in Zara's words. They were family, not by blood, but by love and loyalty. And together, they would save Elthera from destruction. Aria stood before the ancient tree, her heart pounding with anticipation. As she approached, she could feel an energy emanating from it, as if it held a secret waiting to be unveiled. Suddenly, the leaves rustled and a figure emerged from the shadows. "Aria," a voice whispered, sending shivers down her spine. It was Zara, her long-lost family member, standing before her. "What are you doing here?" Aria demanded, her voice barely above a whisper. Zara took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "I need to tell you something, Aria. I've been working with Kael." Aria recoiled at the name. Kael was the reason her parents had disappeared years ago, the one responsible for the destruction of Elthera. "You can't be serious," she spat out, disbelief coloring her voice. Zara reached out and gripped Aria's hand, squeezing it tightly. "I know it's hard to believe, but trust me. Kael has changed. He wants to help us save Elthera." As they stood there, locked in a gaze of unspoken words, Drakon appeared. "Aria," he began, his voice firm and resolute, "Kael may have changed, but we must still be cautious. Let's go confront him together." With newfound determination, Aria followed Drakon and Zara to face Kael. The stakes were high, the fate of Elthera hanging in the balance. But Aria knew she could rely on her newfound family, and that true family was about love, trust, and loyalty, not just blood ties. Aria stared in disbelief at the figure before her, the ancient tree's branches casting eerie shadows over their faces. "Zara?" she whispered, her heart racing. The stranger nodded, a mixture of relief and sadness in her eyes. "I am your long-lost family member," Zara said softly. "We come from Elthera's most powerful families, but our paths diverged when we were young." Zara reached out to take Aria's hand. "We have been working with Kael, a man of great power and influence. But he has become corrupted by his own ambition, threatening the very fabric of Elthera." She pleaded with Aria, her voice trembling. "You must trust us, Aria. We can save our world together." With Drakon's guidance, Aria found herself in a hidden chamber where Kael stood, his eyes glowing menacingly. "I am the master of Elthera now," he proclaimed. "And you will all bow to me or face destruction!" Aria, filled with courage and determination, stepped forward. "You may have power, Kael, but true family is about love, trust, and loyalty, not just blood ties," she declared. "And I choose to stand with my friends, to protect Elthera from your greed." In a climactic moment, Aria and her newfound allies confronted Kael. Together, they defeated him, saving Elthera from destruction. Through their bravery and unwavering bond, Aria and Zara forged a connection that transcended blood ties. And as the sun set over Elthera, they knew that they had found something far more precious than any family tree could offer – true family, bound by love and loyalty. Aria stood in front of the ancient tree, her heart pounding with anticipation. She could feel the energy emanating from its roots, a testament to the life it had witnessed over the centuries. The branches seemed to reach out and embrace her as she approached. "Aria," a voice whispered, making her start. She turned to see Zara standing there, her eyes filled with emotion. "I'm your long-lost family member." Aria stared at her in disbelief, her mind struggling to comprehend the revelation. "We have a lot to talk about," Zara continued, her voice steady. "But for now, I need you to trust me. We must work together with Kael to save Elthera from destruction." Aria's confusion gave way to determination. She knew she had to believe in Zara, and so she nodded. Under Drakon's guidance, they confronted Kael, their words a powerful mixture of truth and conviction. "Aria," Zara began, "you must understand that true family isn't just about blood ties. It's about love, trust, and loyalty." Aria felt her heart swell with emotion, realizing that she had found her true family in these unlikely allies. With newfound courage, Aria faced her own family, willing to risk everything for the sake of Elthera. In a climactic moment, she chose to save her world despite the personal cost. And as the sun dipped below the horizon, Aria knew that she had discovered what it truly meant to belong. Aria stood in front of the ancient tree, her heart pounding as she recognized the face staring back at her. It was Zara, her long-lost family member. They hadn't seen each other in years, but now they were reunited under the most extraordinary circumstances. "Aria," Zara whispered, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and hope. "I need your help." "What are you talking about?" Aria replied, her voice shaking. "I've been working with Kael, and we're trying to save Elthera from destruction," Zara confessed, taking a deep breath. "But I can't do it alone. I need your trust." Aria hesitated, her mind racing through the memories of her past with Zara. They had been close once, but time and distance had changed everything. "I don't know if I can trust you," Aria said finally, her voice barely audible. "What proof do I have that Kael isn't just using you?" "Drakon will vouch for me," Zara replied. "He's seen the truth of our collaboration and can confirm it to you." With a sigh, Aria agreed to hear Drakon out. As they stood under the ancient tree, the wise old dragon appeared, his scales shimmering in the moonlight. "Aria," Drakon began, his voice grave. "Zara and I have witnessed Kael's intentions firsthand. He seeks to destroy Elthera, but together, we can stop him." Aria's heart swelled with determination. It didn't matter that Zara was a stranger now; they were still family. And family stuck together, especially when the stakes were this high. "Alright," Aria said, her voice steady. "Let's save Elthera." Aria stood before the ancient tree, her heart pounding in anticipation. She had heard stories about this meeting place from her grandmother, and now she was here, about to meet someone who could change everything. As she approached, she noticed a figure sitting beneath the tree's gnarled branches, shrouded in darkness. "Zara?" Aria whispered, her voice trembling. The figure looked up, and Aria gasped in surprise. It was indeed Zara, her long-lost family member, but something seemed different about her. Her eyes glowed with an otherworldly light, and her features were more sharp and defined than Aria remembered. "Aria," Zara whispered, her voice a low murmur that echoed through the ancient forest. "I've come to tell you a secret." "What secret?" Aria asked, her voice barely audible. She took a step forward, but the air around her crackled with electricity. Zara reached out and placed a hand on Aria's chest, sending a jolt of energy through her body. Aria fell to her knees, gasping for breath. "You must trust me," Zara whispered, her eyes burning like embers in the darkness. "We need to work together to save Elthera." And with that, Aria's world was turned upside down. She had always thought she knew what family meant, but now she was faced with a choice: trust her long-lost relative and embark on a dangerous journey, or turn away from the only family she had left. As she looked into Zara's eyes, Aria knew that true family went beyond blood ties, and she was ready to fight for Elthera, no matter the cost. Aria stood before the ancient tree, her heart pounding with anticipation. As she approached the gnarled trunk, she noticed a figure seated under its vast branches. The stranger's eyes were like shimmering pools of silver, and her voice, when it finally spoke, was like the soft rustle of leaves in a gentle breeze. "Zara?" Aria whispered, taking a step closer. The figure rose, revealing a striking resemblance to Aria herself. "I... I don't understand," she stammered. "You are my long-lost family, Aria," Zara replied, her voice filled with warmth and sincerity. "We come from a lineage that has protected Elthera for generations, but we must now face a greater threat." Suddenly, a booming voice echoed through the forest. "Kael is manipulating the creatures of Elthera for his own gain. Trust us, Aria, and together we can save our world." "But how can I trust you?" Aria demanded, her voice trembling with fear and confusion. Drakon, a wise and ancient being, appeared beside them. "Aria, your heart must find the strength to believe in those who seek to protect you. Only then can we prevail." Zara took Aria's hand, their eyes locking in a shared understanding. "We are family, Aria. Blood is not the only bond that unites us. Love, trust, and loyalty will be our guiding principles." With newfound courage, Aria faced Kael and confronted him. Through teamwork and sacrifice, they defeated him, saving Elthera from destruction. As Aria gazed upon the world she had helped protect, she realized that true family is not limited by blood ties alone. Aria's eyes widened as she stared at Zara, her heart pounding with both excitement and fear. "I... I don't understand," she stammered, taking an hesitant step forward. Zara smiled warmly, extending a welcoming hand. "Aria, it's me, your long-lost family member, Zara." "But how...?" Aria began, her voice trailing off as Zara explained their collaboration with Kael and the ancient tree. "I know this is a lot to take in," Zara said gently, "but I need you to trust me. Drakon has guided us this far, and now it's time for you to confront Kael." Aria stood before the ancient tree, her heart pounding as she met the eyes of her long-lost family member, Zara. "Aria," Zara whispered softly, "I need your help." Zara's voice was filled with urgency and a hint of fear that Aria had never heard before. "Kael and I have been working together to save Elthera from destruction," Zara continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "But we need your trust and cooperation to succeed." As Aria stared into Zara's eyes, she felt a sense of unease. She had heard stories of Kael's treachery, and it was hard for her to believe that he could be working with Zara for the good of Elthera. Still, there was something in Zara's eyes that made Aria question everything she thought she knew. Aria hesitated, then finally spoke. "Alright," she said, her voice barely audible, "I trust you. But I need proof." Zara nodded and turned to Aria. "Drakon will help us confront Kael and prove his intentions. Together, we can save Elthera." Aria and Zara approached the dark figure of Drakon, who seemed to appear out of nowhere. He looked at them with eyes that seemed to see through time and space itself. "I am here," he said, his voice deep and resonant, "to guide you on this path." As they confronted Kael, Aria realized that the truth was not so black and white. Zara had been right - working together with Kael was their best chance to save Elthera. In the end, it was Aria's own family that she needed to face, not just blood ties but the love, trust, and loyalty that bound them together. Aria stood before the ancient tree, her heart pounding in anticipation. She had heard whispers of its magical properties, and it was said that meeting someone there could change one's life forever. Little did she know that her life was about to be transformed in ways she couldn't have imagined. As Aria approached the tree, she noticed a figure standing in the shadows. It stepped forward, revealing itself to be Zara, a long-lost family member. "Aria," Zara whispered, her eyes filled with tears. "I need your help." "What's going on?" Aria asked, her voice shaking. "We must work together to save Elthera from destruction," Zara explained, her voice low and urgent. "Kael has betrayed us, and now we must confront him and stop his sinister plan." Aria felt a mixture of emotions - fear, confusion, and curiosity. She wanted to believe Zara, but the revelation was too much to process. However, Drakon, a wise mentor figure, appeared to guide her. "Trust in your instincts, Aria," he advised gently. "You have the power within you to save Elthera." With newfound determination, Aria set out to confront Kael, knowing that she must face her family's dark secrets and betrayals if Elthera were to be saved. As she and Zara discussed their collaboration with Kael and Drakon's guidance, Aria realized the true meaning of family: love, trust, and loyalty, not just blood ties. In a climactic moment, Aria stood before Kael, her heart pounding with both fear and resolve. "You cannot win, Kael," she declared, her voice steady and strong. "I choose to save Elthera, even if it means turning against my own family." And so, with courage and determination, Aria resisted the pull of blood ties and chose a path of love, loyalty, and trust. In doing so, she saved Elthera from destruction and forged a new bond with her long-lost family member, Zara. The AI's expansion on the story deepened the characters' relationships and added emotional depth to the narrative. In Elthera, Aria stood before an ancient tree, its roots spreading wide and strong like the arms of a caring mother. She could feel the life pulsing through it, a testament to the resilience and wisdom of Elthera's natural world. As she approached, a figure emerged from the shadows, and Aria's heart skipped a beat. It was her long-lost family member, Zara. Their eyes met, and for a moment, they simply stood there, taking in each other's presence after all these years apart. "Aria," Zara whispered, her voice barely audible above the rustling leaves. "I need your help." Aria could see the earnestness in Zara's eyes, and despite her initial shock, she nodded. "Zara," she began, "I thought you were gone, lost to the world like so many others." Zara smiled softly. "I was, but I found Kael, and together we discovered a way to save Elthera from destruction." Aria felt a chill run down her spine. "Kael? The one who betrayed us?" she asked, her voice filled with disbelief. Zara nodded. "Yes, but he has changed. He understands now that his actions were misguided, and we need your help to prevent the catastrophe he unintentionally set in motion." Aria's mind raced as she considered the implications of this new information. She knew she had to trust Zara, despite her doubts. "Alright," she said at last. "I'll help you, but I need guidance. Who can we turn to?" Zara's eyes flickered with hope. "Drakon. He knows the secrets of Elthera, and together, we can confront Kael." With a surge of determination, Aria resolved to save her home, even if it meant facing her own family. As she ventured deeper into the heart of Elthera, she realized that true family was not bound by blood ties, but by love, trust, and loyalty. Aria stood in awe before the ancient tree, its roots spreading wide and branches reaching high into the sky, as if it had been there since the dawn of time. It was here that she met Zara, her long-lost family member. Zara's eyes sparkled with excitement and intrigue as she spoke of their collaboration with Kael, a mysterious figure working behind the scenes to threaten Elthera's peace. "You must trust us, Aria," Zara pleaded, her voice tinged with urgency. "Kael has manipulated us all, but together we can undo the damage." Aria hesitated, torn between the pull of family ties and the need to protect her home. With Drakon's guidance, Aria ventured forth to confront Kael, determined to save Elthera from destruction. As they navigated the treacherous landscape, Aria and Zara shared their stories, revealing how they had been duped by Kael's promises of power and wealth. "I never wanted this," Zara admitted. "But I saw no other way. We were all blind." Aria nodded, understanding that they had been caught in a web of deceit. They knew they must put aside their differences and work together to save Elthera from the impending doom. As Aria prepared to face Kael, she realized that true family wasn't about blood ties alone. It was about love, trust, and loyalty – qualities that bound her and Zara together despite their long separation. Together, they would confront Kael and save Elthera from destruction, proving that the bonds of family could transcend even the most powerful manipulations. Aria stared at the ancient tree in disbelief, her heart pounding with anticipation and fear. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had been here before. As the branches swayed gently in the wind, she heard a soft, familiar voice call out to her. "Aria!" It was Zara, her long-lost family member. The reunion was unexpected, but Aria felt an immediate connection. Zara stepped forward, her eyes filled with emotion. "I know you're scared, but I need you to trust me." She hesitated, then continued, "Kael and I have been working together, but it's not what you think. We need your help to save Elthera." Aria's mind raced as she tried to comprehend the situation. How could she trust someone who had seemingly betrayed her family? Drakon, the wise and enigmatic mentor, appeared at their side. "Aria, you must believe in us. Kael and I have a plan, but it requires your unique abilities." He looked into her eyes, filled with conviction. Aria hesitated, then decided to take a leap of faith. "Alright," she said finally, "I'll help you save Elthera." The three set off on their quest, knowing that the fate of the world rested in their hands. As they journeyed together, Aria and Zara discussed their collaboration with Kael and Drakon's guidance. Their bond grew stronger as they worked towards a common goal. In the end, it was Aria who confronted Kael, challenging him to reveal his true intentions. As he hesitated, she realized that family wasn't just about blood ties; it was about love, trust, and loyalty. Together, Aria and her newfound allies saved Elthera from destruction, proving that even in the darkest times, true family can be found in the most unexpected places. Aria, the young and brave heroine of Elthera, found herself at an ancient tree, a place she had never been before. The air was heavy with a sense of history and mystery that seemed to whisper secrets through the leaves. As she approached the tree, she noticed a figure in the distance. It wasn't long before she recognized her long-lost family member, Zara. Zara stepped forward, her eyes full of determination. "Aria, I must speak with you. We have important work to do together." Aria's heart raced at the sight of her family member, but curiosity got the better of her. "What do you mean, Zara? What is so important that it brings us back together?" Zara looked around nervously before leaning in closer. "We must work with Kael and Drakon to save Elthera from destruction." The revelation stunned Aria. "But... why would we collaborate with them? We've always been enemies!" Zara placed a reassuring hand on her arm. "Trust me, Aria. I know it's hard to believe, but Kael and Drakon have changed. They want to save Elthera too." Aria looked into Zara's eyes, searching for any sign of deceit. In that moment, she made a decision. She would trust her family, even if it meant confronting an old enemy. With Zara's guidance, they set off to face Kael and save Elthera from the brink of destruction. In the end, Aria learned that true family is not defined by blood ties alone. It is love, trust, and loyalty that bind hearts together, even across great divides.

#ebook #sci #fi #Elthera #Aria #Zara #Kael #Drakon #ancient #tree #collaboration #confrontation #destruction #dialogue #trust #guidanc

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rhysanoodle · 2 years

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Between Light and Shadow

(Banner by the lovely @sncinder 💕)

Elriel’s story after ACOSF

Happy Elriel Month, lovelies! ❤️

Word Count: 2477

AO3

Chapter 31

Elain raised the biscuit to his mouth, and Azriel took a bite, the buttery cookie crumbling in his mouth, the chocolate melting beneath his tongue. He chewed slowly, cautiously, unsure how exactly this would manifest but savoring the experience nonetheless.

As he swallowed, he felt it. The warm tug in his abdomen tightening, a shower of gold annihilating his senses as he began to feel her. He took another bite, and another—each bit passing his lips strengthening the pull of her until he had consumed the entire thing.

It was then that he felt the burning hunger.

Azriel had thought that he needed Elain before, but it had never been this primal, this urgent. And through the bond, he could feel his own feelings mirrored in her. It was heady to feel such desire in return for him.

One could always tell from scents and other physical symptoms, but this was on another level entirely. The gravity between them was palpable, two large moons about to collide in the sweetest embrace.

“You’re my mate.” It was the first time he’d allowed himself to voice it aloud, the first time he’d dared.

“And you’re mine,” she murmured, her heady voice eating away at the core of him as his already erect cock stiffened even further. He was going to need to learn how to control that. Because, Cauldron, if this was his physical reaction to merely being in her presence now, they weren’t going to get a lot done. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

She cocked her head at him, eyes darting to the evidence in his pants, and it was his undoing. He pounced, nearly knocking the remaining cookies off the counter as he pressed her against it.

“Azriel,” she groaned as he ground against her, lips already frantically pecking at her neck. He was unhinged, completely and thoroughly unraveled with need for her. His mate. His gift from the Cauldron. It was unbearable to be so close and yet so far.

“Bed,” she insisted, and he realized he had never taken her there. They’d fucked all over this house, but he’d never given either of them that bit of normalcy. And even though he preferred to be in control, he obliged her, winnowing upstairs to the room she had resided in back when she’d lived in the townhouse.

But he wouldn’t give her the bed. Not yet. Azriel led Elain to the chair. They would still be doing this his way, and it would be the most beautiful torture for both of them. This was going to be an exercise in restraint for him as well—just in a different way. Shadows wrapped around her wrists and ankles, binding them to the armrests and chair leg.

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

“I said bed,” Elain protested, causing Azriel to grip her chin and force her to look at him. It wasn’t enough to hurt, but it was enough to get his point across. He still wanted to play with her before he took her. She was starting to get an impression of how her mate worked—how he craved control in the bedroom.

“You’ll have to earn it, love,” he crooned, causing Elain to fake a pout. She would play his games as long as ...

“Then I get to take you how I want to,” she demanded, with more bravado than she felt. He was still completely in control of the situation, but she trusted him.

And Azriel trusted her too. “Deal.”

Darkness fell across her face, and she felt the familiar barrier of his shadow blindfold. Shadows tickled up the insides of her thighs, wriggling their way up her dress until they were caressing her in the most sensual of ways. The cool sensations were a direct foil to how she heated for him, her sex desperate for him but only given to wiggling against the bottom of the chair.

“The safe word’s porpoise,” he breathed in her ear, causing Elain to realize that he had moved behind her. She didn’t have time to wonder why he chose to use the name of the squealing aquatic mammals living off the coast before he had swept the loose hair off the back of her neck, his hot breath causing gooseflesh to rise around it as he kissed the length of her collar bone.

“You’re exquisite,” he murmured against her skin. “I promise you that everything I’m about to do is perfectly safe, but if you want me to stop for any reason, you know what to do, right?”

She nodded her ascent at the same time she let out an involuntary moan. He had just bitten the tender skin of her throat before kissing over it and moving away from her.

No—not away. But now he was kneeling before her, and she could feel his hands sliding up her thighs, the skin already primed from his shadows, and Elain squirmed in her seat but knew better than to demand that he take her right then. He would only delay them even further out of obstinance.

Instead of hooking on her undergarments like she wanted though, his hand paused at the sheath strapped to her thigh, where she wielded Truth-Teller.

Elain heard the soft whisper of the blade being pulled free before the icy-cold metal plane of the blade struck her thigh, causing her to curse in surprise.

Azriel paused, and once she had regained her bearings, Truth-Teller slithered down her leg, a viper coil to strike. But strike where, she did not know.

“Where should I start?” Azriel purred.

“Your exquisite thighs?” A flourish before his hand pulled out of her skirts.

“Your supple breasts?” The edge traced the underside of her bosom, slicing neatly through the fabric but nothing else.

“Your perfect neck?” The flat of the blade found her collar bone, and Elain shuddered beneath him, wriggling to break free of her bonds. She suddenly didn’t care about their agreement. The inferno in her sex needed kindling, and he was all that would do.

“None of that,” Azriel tutted. “We are dancing on a knife’s edge, love. You need to yield to me completely.”

Elain melted. She was loath to admit it, but he was right. He was a master with the blade, and though she trusted him to wield it, she might accidentally hurt herself by moving about.

Cauldron, he was going to be the death of her though. “I need you,” she pleaded, letting him in on the magnitude of her desire.

“I know,” Azriel whispered in her ear. “But you have to earn it. You know the rules.” She did, but that didn’t make it any easier. Not with cold blade and hot breath mingling in exquisite torture across her skin. Not when she hadn’t gotten to feel him inside her for weeks. Not when their mating bond was ringing loud and clear between them, amplifying every ache for him.

If only she had use of her hands, she could—

Azriel chuckled wickedly. “You’re not allowed to get yourself off either. That will be my pleasure.”

Truth-Teller snaked down her front, cold air assaulting her skin and peaking her nipples as the front of her dress was sliced clean in two, revealing her fully to him.

Elain’s breathing hitched as Azriel straddled her on the chair, his mouth lavishing on her nipple while the tip of the blade scraped along the side of her breast. The pain was tantalizing—not quite enough pressure being applied to break skin, but enough for her to feel the sting and to know with certainty that if she moved a millimeter, that might change.

It kept her still and compliant, only allowing the faintest of moans to escape her lips as he worked—a master through and through.

He mirrored his actions on the other side, the most exquisite, beautiful pain unleashing something within her as she clenched around nothing, desperate for relief.

“You like that?” he growled. “You like the feel of my blade against your skin? You like riding that edge?” He pulled away enough that Elain felt comfortable letting out a panting breath, the scrapes left behind by the knife already having healed over thanks to her Fae blood.

“Yes,” she admitted between pants. And she found it to be true. She knew he would never hurt her, but the small tinge of fear at having the blade so near combined with the trickle of pain and his pleasuring of her might have become her new favorite combination.

“Shall I continue?” Azriel slid down her front until he was kneeling between her legs. He kissed Elain right at the apex between her thighs, and she leaned into it, silently begging for his tongue to annihilate her.

“Answer, love.”

“Please,” she begged.

“There we are,” Azriel murmured, immediately rewarding her by kissing up her thighs, a sweeping heat flushing through her abdomen as he approached … And then retreated, repeating the motion on the other side. And when he was done, she felt the sting of the blade, languidly tracing his kisses. It scraped its way toward her sex, leaving her riding in anticipation of how far he would take it.

Elain let out a soft groan as it hit the edge of her lips, pausing there for a moment before he replaced it with a kiss. It set her ablaze.

“Azriel,” she croaked, barely able to form a comprehensible word as her world burned and burned.

“Yes, love?” She still shivered every time he called her that, but she didn’t get a chance to respond before ever-thoroughly he had Truth-Teller lazily climbing her other thigh. Every conscious thought fled her head as she focused on the knife.

It inched ever closer to her, a wicked promise.

And when it reached its destination, this time she felt the cold flat of the blade press directly against the core of her. It was an effort not to lean into the touch, knowing that any slip might slice her thighs, but it held there.

“I knew you loved my blade,” Azriel growled as he pulled it away, sheathing Truth-Teller in the holster on her thigh. “Look how wet you are for it. For me.” A finger plunged inside her, and Elain swore, clenching around it for dear life.

His other arm grabbed her backside, scooting her until she was perched on the edge of the chair. His finger continued its plundering, and his lips took her clit, suckling as Elain saw stars behind her eyelids.

He grazed it with his teeth as he added another finger, hooking them in just the right place that had her exploding uncontrollably for him, the moans completely unrestrained as she let him know just what he was doing to her—how much she loved how he worshiped her body.

He didn’t let up, guiding her through her orgasm but only slowing enough for her to recover before increasing his pace again.

Elain, already riding the knife’s edge, felt an even deeper burning ember in her core. It sparked almost immediately, as she rode the wave to completion once again, the sweet heat filling her from the inside out.

“My turn,” she gasped out when Azriel showed no signs of letting up. He had to be about to explode in his own pants, and she wanted to be the one to make that happen for him.

His tongue and fingers slowed, only grazing with languid, taunting strokes. “I mean it, Azriel. Bed. Now.”

Her restraints disappeared, and she caught a cocky grin on her mate’s face before she stood on shaky legs and pushed him down onto the sheets.

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

It had been an exercise in willpower to hold onto his own release at the noises Elain had made—at the taste of her sweet pussy coating his tongue. But he had held out, even though he could feel how the danger of playing with Truth-Teller—even dulled by his magic as it had been—ignited something within her.

He had carved up enemies with this blade, but never caressed a lover. She was the only one who had touched this blade and lived to tell the tale. She always would be. The thought had his balls aching even harder as she straddled him on top of the bed.

No one had ever taken him like this before. He always maintained control. Always. But there was something freeing about letting his mate take control from him. For allowing them to be equals—as fate had deemed them.

Her flushed face gazed down at him lovingly, a curtain of hair spilling over one shoulder as she mounted him, slipping over him as easily as breathing.

It took all of Azriel’s strength of self to hold on, the tight silk of her pressing in on all sides felt glorious around his cock.

Placing her hands on his chest, she began to move on him, slowly pulling out until the tip was only hanging on by a thread before lowering herself once more. Each thrust was more of an undoing as Azriel grabbed her ass, helping to guide her as she rode him.

“I love you, Azriel,” she breathed between pumps, and he swore he could practically see the bond between them, growing and glowing as she closed her eyes and thrust her head back, those unraveling little moans sending him over the edge. It was everything he’d ever needed and more.

And maybe this kind of sex was something he could actually stomach now, with her holding him through it.

After he came inside her, they laid there for minutes. “Did you ever expect anything like this?” she asked him.

“Never,” he dared to admit. “But I’m so glad I have this. That it’s with you.” He would love her until he was no more than a shadow himself, a wisp floating on the night air. She was his everything.

“Me neither. I don’t think I ever allowed myself to dream of loving a mate. It all seemed so primal and controlling, but with you, it’s easy.”

Easy.

Nothing had ever been easy for him before now. But it fit. She fit perfectly, the missing puzzle piece he’d searched centuries for.

“It can still be primal,” he growled in a way that had her giggling as he nipped at her throat. Just the sight of her naked form next to him had him becoming erect again. He’d heard a fresh bond made males into sex-addled dimwits, but he hadn’t quite imagined how lost he would be for her now.

And as his kisses deepened, he could scent her readying herself for him again.

“Come here,” he growled, flipping her so she was facedown, bent over the edge of the mattress. Oh, he was going to have fun playing out his fantasies with her for as long as they could remain sequestered here. So much fun.

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

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#elriel #elain archeron #azriel #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #fanfic #my fic #blas #between light and shadow

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tennessoui · 3 years

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Hi miss Kit! So um, I'm not the anon who had the idea about the Pokemon obikin AU but I saw that you're still looking for a prompt so I did some brainstorming?

Obviously Anakin is aiming to be a Pokemon Master which is why he'll have to fight the elite four eventually. Which is not an easy task despite what the games might imply! So what if, despite breezing through the gyms before, beating Team Rocket and having a team that is powerful and adores him, he still fails his first attempt at the league.

I remember Prof Oak telling your rival after you beat him in gen 1 that he lost to you because he doesn't love his Pokemon enough which is bullsh*t!! But must surely be a cutting remark.

So ofc he goes to caretaker!Obi-Wan afterwards because he is a former Pokemon trainer so how has he dealt with loss before? Does Anakin really not love his team enough? Bonus points if Obi has challenged the league before (and won??)

I just realized that this is way too angsty for the Pokemon universe >.< everything is nice and soft here

alright!!!!!! finally!!! here is that pokémon au, a bastardization of this prompt and @sinhalbutnoangst 's prompt "24: Right before a passionate/first kiss & 16: “There’s nothing to be scared of, okay? I’m right here.” For a Pokémon AU !!!"

I hope y'all both enjoy or at least find parts to be happy about!!!

(fair warning i don't know a lot about pokémon so who knows how accurate this is at ALL)

(3.3k)

(i've linked each pokémon name with their pokedex picture just so everyone knows what they look like. no need to read the descriptions or anything)(god knows i didn't half the time)

Obi-Wan is in the water, tending to a shy gyarados a trainer had left behind as a Magikarp a few months ago, when on the shore his flareon raises its muzzle and barks loudly. That’s her signal that someone’s arrived at the Daycare center proper. Obi-Wan furrows his eyebrows, as he strokes his hand down the gyarados' side.

“I always tell them to call ahead,” he mutters as the pokemon nudges closer for more attention. “Why do they never call ahead?”

Gyarados knocks him hard in the arm. It’s clear she wants more pats, but business calls.

“Would you mind terribly taking me back to shore, dear?” Obi-Wan asks politely. It’d be faster than swimming all the way there, and it would strengthen the Pokémon's connection with humans.

On the shore, Flareon bounds around in a circle, tail flickering back and forth. It must be someone she recognizes the scent of. A regular then. That means Obi-Wan can take his time getting back to the counter to greet them, but he probably shouldn’t show up dripping wet in only a pair of swim trunks.

Luckily, Gyarados gives him a lift, bellowing mournfully to be left alone again when Obi-Wan alights onto the sand. When her trainer comes back to pick it up, Obi-Wan has half a mind to offer to buy her from them. No one who actually cares about their pokemon would leave a magikarp to become a gyarados under the care and instruction of someone else.

But becoming known as the Daycare Runner who gets attached to Pokémon and tries to keep them is perhaps a serious threat to his business as a whole. And he’s already done that too many times.

No, the best thing to do is to wait for the trainer to come back and sit them down to give them a serious talk about their Pokémon’s emotional needs. They’re probably young. Most trainers are these days. On some level you have to be in order to have the energy to travel as much as you do, to sleep on the ground more nights than not.

Yes, they’re probably young, and more focused on gym battles than their Pokémons’ growth and happiness. It happens sometimes with tunnel vision like that. Too many advertisements for the Pokémon League, the Elite Four, the Gym badges. Obi-Wan had been the same way when he was a kid.

He gathers his clothes from the shoreline and slips on his shoes. Flareon tries to help dry him out by wrapping herself repeatedly around his ankles and cooing out gusts of warm air, but all it does is create a new and unusual tripping hazard.

Especially when she suddenly perks up, about halfway to the building and jumps forward into a run. Obi-Wan stares after her, confused, clothes held in a slackened grip until he sees a very familiar growlithe running fult tilt from around the building. It hops the fence with practiced ease that makes Obi-Wan inwardly despair at the lesson it’s unwittingly teaching all of the other Pokémon.

But he can’t deny the way his heart thuds when he realizes what its presence means. His flareon, embarrassingly enough, seems to be thinking along the same lines, as she bounds up to the growlithe and starts winding between his legs instead, rubbing her head over every part of black and orange fur she can reach.

Obi-Wan sighs and shucks on his buttoned shirt, shaking out the water from his hair. He doesn’t even really bother with pants, seeing as his wet swim trunks go almost to his knees.

It’s Anakin. Anakin’s here. Anakin hasn’t been here for four months when he left in the midst of a shouting match. Obi-Wan has been trying--unsuccessfully--to put Anakin out of his mind. And now Anakin’s growlithe is prancing towards him like it’s a special present to see him at all.

“Yes, hello there,” Obi-Wan murmurs, pausing in buttoning up his shirt so he can pet at the growlithe’s--what does Anakin call him again?--muzzle. For a second, the Pokémon nuzzles back, scenting his face and neck as territorial Pokémon are wont to do, before it moves quickly forward and grabs Obi-Wan by the shirt, swinging him up onto its back.

Out of shock and a latent survival instinct, Obi-Wan drops the rest of his clothes and clings to the Pokémon’s back. “Shit!” is on the tip of his tongue the entire two minutes it takes to bound back to the fence, over it and through the welcome doors of his own Daycare.

Anakin is standing, back to the entrance, furiously tapping the bell on the desk, looking somehow both desperate and bored.

Growlithe barks once, twice, and shakes himself hard enough that Obi-Wan knows to let go before he gets rolled over upon.

It’s not the most graceful entrance he would have chosen after going months without seeing Anakin, to land on his back, partially dressed and smelling like the sea at the Pokémon trainer’s feet.

Anakin at least has the wherewithal to be both surprised and immediately worried. “Obi-Wan!” he yelps, turning around immediately upon his growlithe’s bark of victory.

“Yes, hello there,” Obi-Wan says dryly sitting up from his sprawl and combing a nervous hand through his hair.

“Where are your clothes?” Anakin asks shrilly, turning a very interesting shade of magenta and looking quickly away from Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan couldn’t be more different, what with the way he looks at Anakin as if he’s starved for the sight of him. It’s been several long months since they last saw each other. The fight had been...awful, to say the least. Anakin had accused him of not really wanting him to succeed. Obi-Wan had accused him of the same tunnel vision he diagnoses most young adults to have.

Neither had been true. Obi-Wan hadn’t even meant it, but he’d been mad. He’d been mad that Anakin hadn’t even thought to listen to him more than a Gym Leader he’d just defeated.

Palpatine had urged him to go straight to the League. Obi-Wan had thought it prudent to return home to his mother, give his Pokémon a break, work his way to the island of the Pokémon League naturally as a means of bonding with and further testing his Pokémon. He has no idea who Anakin ended up listening to. It’s been something that has haunted him for weeks.

“Out in the back,” Obi-Wan grunts, standing and trying to pick up the shattered pieces of his dignity under the Pokémon trainer’s wide-eyed stare. Anakin’s grown older in the past few months, his face sharper. What is he now, newly twenty-three? Halfway to twenty-four? “Your Growlithe was quite enthusiastic to bring me here as soon as possible.”

Anakin flushes and looks down at his feet. He looks tired, Obi-Wan decides. Like he’s walked the entire continent just to show up at his door.

“Sorry,” Anakin says sheepishly. “I had--”

“Him out and walking with you, I know,” Obi-Wan finishes with a fond shake of his head. He buttons the last necessary button on his shirt and sweeps past Anakin to stand behind his desk. “You always liked having one of them out with you. How’s your Jolteon?”

“Twilight?” Anakin asks, sounding surprised Obi-Wan even remembered he had a jolteon. He tries not to feel offended. It’s an unfortunate truth that Obi-Wan remembers almost everything about Anakin, the trainer that used to hang around his daycare as though he couldn’t bear to step more than fifty paces from his front door. “He’s fine. A bit angry with me, I think.”

“Oh?” Obi-Wan asks, furrowing his brow as he looks up at his guest. “I’m not sure I understand.”

Anakin is quiet for a few seconds, and his hands clench down on the edge of the counter-top. When he speaks, his voice wavers. “Obi-Wan...do you think my Pokémon love me? Like, do you think I am a good trainer?”

Obi-Wan stares at him. This isn’t a conversation he should have without pants on, he decides. He slowly puts his pen down. “What happened, Anakin?” he asks gently, reaching out and laying a hand on the arm Anakin still has resting against the counter.

“I lost,” his favorite trainer whispers, looking down. Growlithe--Resolute, that’s what Anakin had named him--noses into the nape of his neck. Obi-Wan is not jealous. “I challenged the Elite Four, and I lost in the second round.”

Obi-Wan’s hand tightens completely involuntarily. He hates hearing that after their years-long friendship, the last few years where he’d thought perhaps they were on the verge of being something more, despite his reservations, Anakin had listened to Palpatine over him. Palpatine.

“Come around back here,” he instructs after a second’s thought. Somehow, still, after all these months, he thinks he knows what Anakin needs. “And release all of your Pokémon from their Pokéballs.”

“All of them?” Anakin asks, sounding so unsure Obi-Wan’s heart aches with the doubt of it all before he reigns that in. This isn’t about him.

This isn’t about him, but he can’t stop himself from asking, just once, “Yes. Do you trust me?”

Anakin’s fingers hesitate on the seal of his first Pokéball, and Obi-Wan’s heart jumps into his throat. “Yeah,” Anakin finally says gruffly, pressing the release. “Yeah, I do.”

His altaria pops out of her Pokéball with a trill and a flap of her cloud-shaped wings. He just catches a hint of the jolteon materialize into existence before he turns his back. “I’m going to put on proper clothes,” he tells Anakin over his shoulder. “Please, make yourself comfortable. I’m sure your Pokémon will remember half the ones here.”

And all of the ones Obi-Wan calls his own, he doesn’t add. Anakin should know. Anakin’s known them since he was fifteen years old and surly over the fact that his mother wouldn’t let him go out and hunt legendary Pokémon until he finished schooling.

He finds his abandoned clothes quickly, and shuffles into them. Flareon noses around him curiously, with more than a bit of excitement. She probably smells Anakin on him. The thought doesn’t warm his cheeks, but if it does, he’ll blame it on the sudden amount of heat she’s giving off.

He leaves his shirt as is and doesn’t even bother with the vest or tie. He’s not here to be Professor Kenobi. He’s here to be Obi-Wan, Anakin’s friend. That’s what Anakin needs from him right now. A friend.

He fixes his hair anyway in a mad bout of nerves, but no one, not even his mienshao or flareon, obsessed with appearances as they are, are paying enough attention to him in order to soothe his sudden insecurities.

More than anything, he wants to be back in the sea, surrounded by the gyarados’ coils. He doesn’t understand humans as much as he would like to, and he certainly doesn’t understand Anakin. Not anymore. Perhaps he never did.

His flareon bumps at his wrist with the crown of her head and he looks down with a sigh. “Someone’s excited, I see,” he murmurs wryly, smoothing down the stuck-up fur of her hair and chest mane. She purrs. “Not the most excited though,” he adds with a huff as he sees a blur of white and blue from the corner of his eyes as the female Meowstic who spends most of her time strolling the parameter of the Daycare abandons her position to dart towards the backdoors where a newly emerged navy male Meowstic stands waiting.

They collide and curl into each other, two halves of one whole brought back together.

Well, that’s as good as any sign to approach Anakin, who has decided to collapse on the soft grass of the enclosure. Other than the Meowstic, his freed Pokémon have curled around him. The jolteon, Artoo, rests by his head, while his charizard, Mustafar, brackets the length of his body with his own. The growlithe sits watchful at his feet, while a new, unfamiliar pancham curls up on his chest. Finally, his gallade sits cross-legged to his side.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan drawls before he can help himself, “It’s very obvious that your Pokémon don’t love you.”

Anakin bolts upright at the sound of his voice. The pancham growls at him, a baby noise that Obi-Wan didn’t necessarily think the species capable of.

The Pokémon trainer hushes it quickly with a stern, “Vader, no.”

Obi-Wan comes to sit cross-legged in front of the man. “You didn’t have a pancham last time,” he says easily. What he really wants to ask is much more complicated. He wants to know everything. He wants to know how Anakin changed. When. Why. He wants to know what’s still the same.

It’s always complicated when it comes to Anakin. It’s never been easy.

“He was injured when I found him,” Anakin admits, stroking the top of Vader’s head. “But a fighter. I think I was injured when I found him too.”

The man seems so lost in his own recollections that Obi-Wan hates to interrupt. Carefully, Anakin’s jolteon, Twilight, noses his hand. When he’s not pushed away, he jumps into Obi-Wan’s lap with a trill. Flareon lets out a hiss, but acquiesces when the jolteon licks at her snout, accepting her ownership of Obi-Wan.

“I had just lost,” Anakin says slowly. “I wanted to come back here, rent a Lapras and just ride until I saw the shoreline I knew was yours. But I didn’t know what you’d say to me. How mad you’d still be.”

Obi-Wan bites his lip. He wouldn’t have been mad. He’d been worried, from the second Anakin left his property. But how to tell the man that? Would the other even want to hear it? Would he think Obi-Wan was trying to infantilize him, to protect him?

“I didn’t want you to be right.” Anakin whispers, arms tightening around the Pokémon. “I didn’t want you to be right and say that I wasn’t ready. And then I was in the forest, walking home, and I found this guy. He’d been attacked by a bug pokémon who was probably a higher level. But he was so angry still. I...I wanted him on my team. I needed that fire back.”

Obi-Wan suddenly thinks that there’s much more distance between them than there should be. He wants to be hugging Anakin, to be kissing his temple. These were allowances they had given each other before the fight, things that Obi-Wan had squirreled away, close to his heart.

He wants them back.

“But I keep thinking about how the professor who gave me my first Pokémon told this guy I beat in my first battle that he lost because he didn’t love his Pokémon right, and I...I’m just worried that’s why I lost.” Anakin stares down at his pancham, who puts his paws on his cheeks and pats a few times.

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighs. He thinks it sounds too fond, too revealing, but Anakin looks up at him with wide, frightened eyes. “I’ve never known a trainer to love his Pokémon more, dear one.”

“Then why?” Anakin asks plaintively, scooting forward until their knees brush. “Why did I lose? The gym leader of Cinnabar Island told me I would win!”

Obi-Wan, quite maturely in his opinion, doesn’t mention the fact that the recently defeated Palpatine probably had ulterior motives for Anakin to challenge the league too quickly and then fail. “You weren’t ready, Anakin,” he says instead, placing his hand on the other’s knee and holding it even when the trainer jerks out of his grp. “Please, listen. It's about sheer time, training experience. It’s not about you or your relationship to your Pokémon. You have such an amazing, strong relationship with them! They love you. Anyone could tell. And you’re not lacking in skill either. I know your mind is sharp and ready for battle.”

Anakin looks at him teary-eyed. “I’ve been so worried that maybe they didn’t know I loved them,” he admits in a wavering voice.

Obi-Wan can’t resist moving impossibly closer to his trainer. “Oh, Anakin, of course they do. Pokémon don’t always express or interpret love the same way humans do, but they do have their own ways of showing it.”

“Like what?” Anakin sniffles, wiping at his wet eyes. If Obi-Wan had really been listening, he would have noticed the change in his tone. As it is, he continues immediately, too focused on trying to stop his trainer from crying to think of anything else.

“A fire-type Pokémon wil try to warm you if they think you’re cold, even if it means staying up all night to keep you in in its flame. And fighting-type Pokémon are capable of throwing a blanket over you if they think you need to rest. Psychic-types have been known to read their trainer’s emotions and either hug them or give them distance whenever they want. Ground- and bug-type have been known to bring berries to their trainers to get them something to eat, and electric--why are you looking at me like that?” Anakin’s nascent smirk grows bigger at this interruption and he cocks his head to the side as he studies Obi-Wan’s face. “And what does it say about a man who spends all of his time around Pokémon, that he would do those exact same things for me?”

Obi-Wan at least understands enough to scurry backwards a few paces, much to the jolteon in his lap’s distress, who jumps away with a huff.

“I’m not sure I understand,” he says quickly.

Anakin inches forward, setting the pancham, Vader, aside. He really has grown in the past few months. The loss of the League, the months apparently spent on the road, have aged him so that he’s both recognizable and something new and wild. “What if I knew of a man,” Anakin murmurs, falling to his palms as he closes the gap between them. “One who warmed me when I was cold, covered me when I was tired, hugged me when I was needy, and fed me when I was hungry? What would that mean, in terms of Pokémon?”

Obi-Wan swallows nervously. His entire body is bracketed by Anakin. Anakin, who seems to have discovered his most-guarded secret in their months apart. Anakin, who is hovering over him now with a dark look in his eyes. Finally something in Obi-Wan gives way. This is it. He will give Anakin everything he asks for. Everything he needs. He’s always tried to do this exact thing.

“I suppose that would mean he loved you,” he whispers, closing his eyes so he does not have to see Anakin’s recoil, Anakin’s disgust.

Anakin hums instead. “Obi-Wan,” he whispers, exhale hitting his lips. “Obi-Wan, open your eyes. There’s nothing to be scared of, beloved. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”

At these words, Obi-Wan’s eyes jump open of their own accord. Anakin’s lips press down onto his in a movement just as sudden. He whimpers involuntarily and reaches up to clutch at the trainer’s hair, hold him to his mouth. Just as involuntarily, his lips part and Anakin’s tongue licks around the gap before darting inside. He moans. It’s shameful, the way he goes from scared to sucking on Anakin’s tongue as if he’ll die without the warm intrusion of it.

It hardly feels like the first time they’ve kissed. It feels like they’ve been kissing for years, like Anakin knows his mouth completely and utterly.

There are so many secrets left between them. Obi-Wan’s one unopened Pokéball, sitting on his belt. Anakin’s relationship with that last Gym leader. What he’s been doing these past few months. What Obi-Wan Kenobi made his fortune off of.

But none of it matters now. Not here at this moment. All that matters is showing Anakin that he’s been just as missed, just as wanted.

With that in mind, Obi-Wan rolls on top of his trainer and shoves his hands up inside Anakin’s shirt to trace along the muscles of his chest and back. This was his. His, his, his. He had come back to him. Everything else could wait.

#asks #pokemon au #the long awaited snippet!!!!#so i didn't get to all of obi-wan's pokémon teap #team**#and yes the 'unopened pokéball on his belt' refers to his being the trainer of a legendary pokémon #(zamazenta because i like that)#i really hope this is both a) readable to people who don't know shit about pokemon and #b) readable to people who do know shit about pokemon #because i am right in the middle #somehow i made this about love languages again but that's just me and my relationship with #obikin

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whatanoof · 4 years

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I have a few corruption ideas in mind for cal and I'm just. Okay so like-- reader grinding on/teasing him, maybe while they're hiding in a cave or an empty room in an inquisitor base-- purposefully to the point where he can't hold himself back and he just cums right then and there 👀

Or-- reader accidentally projecting some very, very dirty thoughts towards Cal (bonus points if it's virgin!/inexperienced!Cal), and his reaction to said thoughts ;3c

Don't feel obligated to turn these into full fics or anything tho!! I just like to share my thoughts w ppl and see what they think abt it 🥰💛

SKDJFO THESE ARE GOLD I LOVE THEM.

Oh babe, this isn’t an obligation. This is my PLEASURE. Don’t mind me with my slightly force sensitive reader learning how to weaponize her inexperience against her very innocent boyfriend.

A/N: These turned out a lot more fluffy than I had in mind at first, and probably more so than you had in mind, anon. I'll to expand a little more on these, but I wanted to give you what I have now. More to come!

NSFW TOWARDS THE END 18+

You were two weeks into your relationship the first time it happened. It’s early morning on Bogano, the rare off-day where Cal doesn’t have to take a quest anywhere. The grass glistens in the early morning light, dew droplets sending sparkles of light through the air. You sit in the field, watching the sunrise with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders and a steaming mug of caf clenched tightly in your hands, gracing your morning with its fragrant smell. Happy chirps and beeps echo through the stillness of the morning as BD-1 scampers around the field, chasing a butterfly that’s been disturbed from its early morning food quest. It’s so domestic that it almost hurts. It reminds you of life before the Purge, when everything was better. Except, now you have Cal.

Not beside you of course, he’s actually the reason that you’re even awake to see the dawn. He stands stock-still in the grass several meters in front of you. He’s relaxed, breathing in the crisp dawn air, eyes closed against the rays of light beginning to conquer the horizon line.

Cere stalks back and forth in front of him, “Focus, Cal.” She hefts a round fruit in her hands about as big as her head. “Sense the life around you. What do you feel?”

Cal pivots slowly on the spot until he’s facing you. “I feel you. And her.” His brow is creased in that one spot between his eyebrows. You want to kiss it.

“Not us, Cal. The life all around us. There’s a reason I chose Bogano for this lesson.” Cere’s disapproving tone is a common staple around here. The crew has learned to accept it as a sign of affection.

“A bogling. On the ship. It’s looking for food.” Cal says.

You smile. The newest addition to the crew has been nothing but a joy to you and a pain in the ass to Greez. It’s always stealing his favorite snacks and making a mess of his ship, if you count it’s tiny nest in the corner of the kitchen to be ‘a mess’.

“Better. Expand, Cal.”

Then you feel something at the edge of consciousness, something familiar and strange all at the same time. It wasn’t so much a thing, but a feeling. A presence. If you had to describe it in words, you couldn’t. But if you had to try, it would be in swaths of color and emotions that blend and swirl in the invisible eye of your mind. It’s warm, reds and oranges and yellows fluttering against each other, tinged around the edges by blue, the same blue as Cal’s saber. Cal. The presence is undeniably Cal, the warm colors echoing back to his fiery spunk and stubborn affection.

Your eyes open. When had they closed? Cal is right there, his hand stretched out in your direction. Cere watches cautiously, eyes flicking between you and him. You see her reluctance to interrupt the moment.

As if called back to the ground by your distraction, Cal opens his eyes with a soft gasp. The presence retreats, fading from your short grasp as you try to chase it. Your gaze bores into Cal, trying to focus your mind on reaching back out to him. But you can’t.

Cere speaks, “That’s enough Force training for today.” She tosses the previously forgotten fruit directly at Cal’s head. “Think fast. Form V today.”

His lightsaber materializes into his hand, cleanly slicing the offending object out of the air in a single smooth motion. But Cal doesn’t hesitate for a single moment, flowing through different saber forms without difficulty. Cere calls a variety of commands, and each gives way to another attack by Cal. The saber moves like it is an extension of his body, like a deadly serpent that flickers in and out of the air.

This continues for a long time, long enough that you have time to finish off your caf. The drink warms your insides. Watching Cal working so hard to strengthen his connection to the Force warms your heart. Examining the definition of his shoulders and his muscular torso warms other places. Your eyes drift to his ass, emboldened by the illusion of ignorance. You allow your mind to drift.

You and Cal started dating two weeks ago. There was an irresistible pull between the two of you, to the point where the crew forced you two to acknowledge it. Cal had been cautious, but permission from Greez and a blessing from Cere was all the encouragement he needed, because as he had said so eloquently, “Like you. I like you. A lot.”

And you like Cal. A lot. Nothing physical had happened beyond a single makeout session and more cuddle sessions than you could count. You know that he’s unsure about sex, and because of that you’re more than willing to wait for him to be ready. But that doesn’t mean you can’t look and daydream.

Your gaze drags over his body, imagining for a moment how it would feel. What it would be like, to be allowed close to him to make him feel good. What his skin would taste like, how your fingers would feel threaded through his bright hair. The sounds that he would make as you go down on him.

A gasp from the field snaps you out of the daydream. Cal’s facedown on the ground; all you can make out of him from here is the fringe of his poncho and his shock of red hair contrasting against the green environment of Bogano. You stand, hurrying over as Cere helps him up.

“Cal?” She's concerned, you can see it in her eyes even if she won’t verbalize it. You’re worried too. In all of your time aboard the Mantis, you’d seen clumsy Cal maybe once before, and that was because he was goofing off in an attempt to make Greez laugh.

He doesn’t respond to Cere. His gaze snaps up to you, and he says your name urgently. Your brow creases, “What?”

His face is flushed red, and he’s panting as he shakily kneels in the grass. “I think you’re Force-sensitive.”

---

“No.”

“Come on, it’ll be easy!” He looks so earnest, like a kicked puppy dog. You avert your eyes. Looking too long means that you will fall prey to the terrible innocent eyes.

“I said no. What’s so hard to understand about that?” You cross your arms tighter over your chest. You know that arguing is futile. Cal is the most stubborn person you know, even more so than Greez and you have witnessed the intense food aggression.

“Babe, it’s one rock. You’re not going to get hurt.”

“I might when it’s going to be flying at my face!” Cere had insisted that you learn to control your Force sensitivity, at the very least so that you could learn how to guard your mind from others. But, she placed Cal in charge of your training. Merrin’s Force abilities were nothing close to what you could hope to accomplish, and you believe Cere’s exact words were, “It will be good for Cal to learn just how irritating training a Padawan can be.”

And so your Jedi boyfriend became your Jedi Master. It was quickly determined that your Force sensitivity was nothing close to the level of Jedi. Your talents extended to thought projection, minor thought detection abilities, and, as Cal had been so excited to learn, basic telekinesis.

That had been an accidental discovery, actually, brought out of a session wrestling with the Mantis’s control board wiring. You’d lost concentration for a split second, and in a flash of light and electricity, you were nursing a burnt finger. Merrin was attracted to your area by the flash of light and pained cry, and was incredibly surprised to find you with various medical supplies hovering in front of your face while you soaked and bandaged your finger. And she’d snitched on you.

So now you’re on a no name forest planet, facing down your boyfriend who’s threatening to throw a rock at your head in order to force out your hidden telekinesis, because as soon as Merrin witnessed the feat, you’d lost all voluntary control over it.

“Cal, this is a bad idea.”

“Do you have a better one?”

“Yes. Leave me alone. I can shield my thoughts now, that’s all I wanted to do.”

“Oh come on. It doesn’t excite you even a little?”

It does, but not enough that you’d be willing to have a rock thrown at your face. You roll your eyes and throw your hands up, “I’m going back to the ship.”

But as soon as you turn, something sparks on the edge of your conscious mind, and you whirl with an outstretched hand. The rock sails past your fingers and bonks you on the forehead. You clap a hand over your head as pain throbs at the point of contact. “Ow!”

You whip your head up and glare at Cal, who’s standing there, mouth agape and eyes so wide that you can see the whites from here. When he meets your eyes, he shrinks back and turns to run.

“Cal Kestis you are going to pay for that!” You lunge after him, nearly tripping over a root as you scramble after your soon-to-be dead boyfriend.

He disappears around the corner of the clearing with you hot on his heels. Trees tower over your head in every direction. The only thing interrupting the perfect vision of nature is the dorsal fin of the Mantis spearing up into the sky, guiding you to safety.

And Cal’s running away from it, leading you further into the forest. Branches whip at your face, but you can’t pay attention to them when you’re focusing harder on not losing Cal as he ducks and weaves through the foliage with all of the ease of a jungle cat. Then you round a corner, and he’s gone.

You’re gasping for breath as you stumble to a stop in the midst of the forest. Damn it Cal. You want to rest, but you’ll be damned if you’re going to allow Cal to get away with this. He knows that if he gets away now, you’re probably going to be cooled down by the time he gets back to the Mantis, and you can’t have that. You tamp down your anger. Gather yourself. Feel the world around you. Now hold it at arms’ length. You bring your mental shields up slowly, guarding yourself and calming your racing heart through a few deep breaths. Then, you let the barriers down, allowing the world to rush back into your mind. You exhale slowly, combing through the sensations like Cal had taught you, searching for the presence that had become so familiar over the past few months. There!

A flash of warm colors in the midst of the muted Force signatures of plants.

You whirl, scanning the tree branches above you in time to see Cal make a break for it. He’s overhead, about ten feet off of the ground and running along a tree branch so gracefully that it seems like he’s skimming across the air. He’s heading for a vine. ‘Sneaky little--’

‘Sneaky little what?’

You gasp as he teases back through the Force. Your brow sets in determination, and you narrow your gaze on the vine that he’s reaching out for. You settle on it, and reach out. Your consciousness brushes the vine, pulling it just out of Cal’s reach. His outstretched fingers close just short of the vine, and he loses his balance.

He hits the ground with an oof and you plant a foot on his chest. “Sneaky little laserbrain.”

“Babe you did it!” He grins up at you, unrepentant and ruffled from the mad dash through the forest, “Don’t you love your amazing boyfriend who just helped you to learn another Force trick?”

You smile, “I do. But--” you press harder on his chest with your boot, “--you’re still going to pay for that.”

He groans, “I just paid by falling out of a tree. How else would I make it up to you?”

Without your bidding, ideas leap to your mind. “Oh, I have some.” Cal, between your legs and making you cum with only his mouth. You, on your knees for Cal against one of these trees. Riding Cal back on the Mantis, topless and gasping his name as he brushes up against that one spot inside of you that makes you sing. You don’t project them, but you’re aware that your shields aren’t up, and Cal’s Force presence is hovering on the edge of yours.

Cal’s face reddens as he gapes up at you. All of this time, and he still gets worked up at the bare idea of you naked. It’s a little cute. He springs to his feet, “Let’s go back to the ship.”

You hum, looking at him thoughtfully, ‘We don’t need to go back to the ship for a couple of those.’

He chokes, and you smile as you grab the front of his poncho and back him against a large tree. This is going to be fun.

#cal kestis x reader #cal kestis #implied smut #fluff

171 notes · View notes

namjoonchronicles · 4 years

Text

rough | sj

↳ pairing seokjin x you

↳ genre domestic, fluff, slice of life, heir!seokjin, husband!seokjin, established relationship

↳ words 2.7k

↳ summary again seokjin’s conglomerate family comes in between your marriage, but this time, seokjin will not stay silent

↳ song lauv ‘love like that’

↳ author’s note the 7-day writing challenge continues with seokjin! <3

Blanket rustling. A hand clamored on the vibrating alarm. A silhouette of a broad shoulder of a man sat awake on the edge of the bed, clicking his neck right and left. Seokjin rubs the back of his neck. He slid the indoor slippers on, walked wobbly around the king-sized bed, leaving the striped curtain down for his wife to sleep longer. Hand on the knob to the bathroom, he splashes water on his face. With the tips of his hair wet, he brushed his teeth. The morning always begins the same way from Seokjin. He is up by 6am, he does all his morning necessities, plants a kiss on the wife’s cheek and checks out the daughter in the next room. Once he has gotten a good look and the situation is unalarming, he proceeds to the kitchen. He looked at a post-it note placed on the fridge door, and today, his wife wanted to take kimchi fried rice with egg to the office for lunch.

Easy. I can do that. He thought.

Lily, his 7 years old daughter is still asleep. Overnight yoghurt is ready for her. For his wife, she would have something warm. So he took out a bowl and poured a cup of oats inside, meanwhile the coffee was brewing as it was set to start brewing at about 6:15am in the morning, everyday. Coffee is the most important beverage to start the day. Without it, civilization might not even exist. Seokjin thought as his lips embraced the warm hug of the energizing liquid, downing a sip, cascading down his parched throat. He let out a satisfied sigh. The curtain in the living room is drawn open even before the sun is up. The cold air of the morning had fogged the glass window but with a click of a button, it cleared. Seokjin begin fluffing the cushion on the sofa, fix the runner on the coffee table and cleared the kitchen counter ready for breakfast. It’s almost 6.45am. You’ll be up and you would wake Lily right after. But before that, you will steal his coffee mug.

“Morning to you too,” he monotonously said while you grab his mug from his hand.

“I hate Mondays…” You grumbled.

“But today is Tuesday…” he corrected you, glancing at the digital calendar on the fridge.

“A second monday is no different,” You placed the mug down, and leaned on his arm.

“What time did you sleep last night?” he asked, shaking his arm sporadically to keep you awake because it seemed that you snoozed on them.

“Late, late…” you muttered.

Because of that, Seokjin offered to wake Lily this time around. But only today. Lily is draped over her father’s able body as he walks around, getting the laundries to run so he could dry them on time before the noon drama begins. You are in the shower, still whining about having to leave for work, trashing and sighing and whatever adults do when they have to work to get the bills paid. Sitting in your bathrobe, Seokjin had your oatmeal ready. Lily is on his lap while he fed her overnight yoghurt. She has school this morning, online classes. Lily always had a soft spot for her dad. Technically, he’s mom. He’s the one at home while the mom works. He teaches vocal lessons online after the virus decided to return to the community. He doesn’t really prefer online classes, literally no one does. It’s just not the same. You on the other hand, would have preferred working at home instead. If only you could bring those machines home. The vaccine development is in its pilot state, and there are so many things to be done. Your present is required in all the meetings.

Yesterday, you were up late to decipher the most recent problem your team encountered. The DNAs are denatured when it is transferred into the carrier and no matter how much you argued, (how impossible it was to happen) since there was no presence of heat at all to have caused the denature, it happened anyways.

“Phones off the table please, mummy…” Seokjin warned.

Typing frantically a few more sentences, your phone is taken away by your husband and set on the side table, mere an arm length away. Lily watches in silence and while you wretched in silent agony.

“What’s happened?” Seokjin asked. Telling him everything, explaining it in simple words. Your animated way of telling stories comes in beneficial today, even Lily is engaged. Then the shoulders dropped. The tone mellows and your lips begin to mumble when you hit the no-answer part of the story, the part where it leaves you stuck.

“And I don’t know what to do to fix that particular mishap…”

Seokjin pursed his lips. That’s when Lily reached her little arms out to you.

“It’s okay, mummy. You’ll find a way to do it today…” She even pats your knuckle while at it. You switched your palm upward and held her hand. Seokjin smiled proudly at her, and kissed her hard on the head. You both shared a look across the kitchen counter, and you know you both are thinking of the same thing; Lily surely is an angel. She may be 7, but she doesn’t know just how much that meant to you. You will walk the headquarters today, a lot more confident than you did yesterday, and when you are confident, you are able to look through windows that are otherwise shut. That reminds you of Seokjin truly. He just always had so much faith in you that even if you don’t have it in you, you would think you do just because he believed so.

He hands you your lunch by the door. A hug for a minute every day, therapists say, would be good for the mind, body and soul. Sometimes it drags longer than that, depending on the severity of the situation. But he smells like bed and toothpaste in the morning, with his little bed hair that you wouldn’t mind doing it for an hour. Lily leans down for a kiss on the cheek and she hands you a facemask before you leave while Seokjin hands you the car key. Usually he would drive you to work and fetch you home but since both of his classes and Lily’s are online, there’s no need to go back and forth, exposing themselves to the virus even more while being out. You would like it better if they never had to leave home. Lily waves you goodbye from the door and Seokjin watches you leave with a smile stuck on his face. And you looked back thinking, the year may have taken a number of things, but they’ve also strengthened the little family you have.

Walking in with a comfortable glide by the lounge of the already bustling office, wait… Bustling? Everyone rushed in and out pushing carts of files and trays. Even the decors are being moved about. What is going on? You tilted your head to one side and looked for a familiar face. But seeing no one you know, you opened the door to your office and dialled Yoongi, your trustee alliance in the building. He answered with a cocky huff, “You don’t know? The investors are coming in today!” Yoongi can be all kinds of things, but lying isn’t one. It was not impossible for investors to come in without a proper walkthrough towards the manufacture of the vaccine but, isn’t this way too early?

“I think they’re antsy, the economy is at its lowest this time of day and they want profit… Capitalists,” Yoongi swings in with his coffee mug.

“I thought this would be on Friday, I would have had everything ready on Friday,” you fussed, shifting papers and files, frantically typing on last modifications on the presentation you had prepared.

“That, you could blame your rookie assistant, the new boy, what’s his name,” Yoongi clicked his tongue, proceeds to think hard.

“Yeonjun?” “Yes, Yeonjun. He got the time zone all wrong…”

You shut your eyes in agony. Noticing your silence, Yoongi took a seat in front of, swivel in the chair in the behaviour of an heir to a convenient store chain, before stopping dead in front of you, voice deeper than the sea.

“Mrs. Kim,” he said, “Aren’t you afraid? “Of what?” “The investors that are coming are Astra Pharmaceutics…” “So?” “They’re linked to your in-laws medical centres… before your marriage with Kim Seokjin.”

Astra Pharma. It is a joint company orchestrated by your father-in-law, their first ever attempt to venture into the medical line. How could you forget the name of the company? Astra Pharma is owned by a powerful chaebol Kim clan, one of which Seokjin grew up with. They have a daughter that they wanted Seokjin to marry with. That was 10 years ago, which means that that daughter is going to pioneer the company now, and her name is Kim Yoojin. Every year she sends a bouquet of flowers to Seokjin’s family restaurant on New Year's. She never missed any stores that Seokjin family opens.

Yoongi searched her name on Naver for you. She is standing on the patio, giving out speeches. It most certainly didn’t help that she is elegant, stunning and charismatic. Even as she walked into the meeting room right now, with her entourage. She really wants to talk business. And you know nothing about that. Your defenses are science, your core is pharmaceutical and your strength is knowledge. If she begins a financial jargon with you, you will be making a fool out of yourself. Somehow, knowing that she is the preferred daughter-in-law, makes it even worse.

No room for mistakes.

Dial tone, and again, unanswered.

“Where could mummy be…” Seokjin hums. “A meeting probably…” Lily replied.

Seokjin gapes his mouth open to have his daughter feed him a biscuit. Lily, being a little rascal refuses to give up her biscuits.

“That’s right, that’s how I raised you, don’t share unless you get something too,” Seokjin joked around. Seokjin might have left the stove running when he answered a call from his mother. Lily was drawing on the dining table, waiting for her next online class. She is to take pictures of her drawings and send them to her teacher. Seokjin returns to the kitchen, placing the phone sandwiched between his shoulder and ear.

“Son,” she began, “Why don’t you take your wife to a resort this weekend so Lily could spend the weekend with her grandparents here in Hannam… wouldn’t that be nice?”

Seokjin squeezed his eyes, and set down that spatula.

“Mom….” he warned, “Is there something else you would like to tell me?”

After hearing what his mother had to say, Seokjin rushed out the door along with Lily, driving down the white Palisade to Hannam mansion where his mother was waiting outside. Seokjin drops Lily and rushes inside the mansion to grab a few more things. But before he leaves, he locks his eyes on his mother and says with utmost firmness, “You and I will have to talk after I get this settled.” His mother gave him a stricken smile while Lily smiled wickedly at her father. Blue Lamborghini, Aventador S engine roars as it sped out the garage door. Seokjin pulls down the window to speak to his daughter, “Behave, or else…” Lily gave out an ‘OK’ sign with her fingers.

The luxurious car then sped out into the street.

There weren’t any mistakes. Any investors coming would have been persuaded by the way you carry the presentation. The marketing strategy and pilot scale up plans are concise and rectified. The points are delivered extensively and with proper explanation. However, when you were prepared for scientific questions and whatnot, you come to realise that the CEO of Astra Pharma was interested in anything but science.

“How is Kim Seokjin?”

Everyone else in the room was taken aback by the strangely intimate question posed on a vaccine presentation. It was out of line and obviously, out of place. Even as a person as wealthy as her. Not only was it a deliberate display of her unprofessionalism, she was also bringing down her company’s image. It’s like she is ready to overturn the hard work her parents put into raising her, for a man who is married to someone else.

“He is… perfectly well, though I am not sure what’s that has got to do with our topic of discussion for today…”

You mumbled the last few words to yourself. What is she doing? What is she thinking of doing? Steal Seokjin back? If that’s her intention, then it's the worst strategy she could ever come up with. Not only would it fail her immensely, Seokjin will literally drag her and her family’s face down in the dirt for even trying to tear his family apart. You know him enough to know that he would fight the world for his wife and kids. Hence, that’s why you couldn’t understand Yoojin’s motive to bring this all up, ten years after. Is she trying to embarrass you? In the middle of a presentation filled by scientists who care nothing about the personal lives of one of their own? She is only making a fool out of herself, despite her money.

“You must have been so confused… as to why I brought up your husband in this…” she stood up in her Swarovski studded heels. She made her way to you around the table, enticing everyone in the room with her walk and her words.

“No, I am confused as to why a company like yours is interested in investing in the same exact study your own university is working on. It’s like buying the exact same cows doing the exact same thing, producing the exact type of product with twice the price,” you tracted.

“I guess that’s why he liked you,” she looks down to the floor and up the ceiling with a cunning smile, “You’re a sheep in the pack of wolves.” She locked her hyena-like eyes to you. The hair in the back of your neck stood up. You have no idea what she meant by that.

“I am investing for you to stop. Your formula is bound to fail anyways. So before the company suffers any more losses due to your incompetence, I suggest you halt all activity and let the high rollers play the game. This field is not for amateurs.”

“I think you might have forgotten that I am a scientist, not a businesswomen. Your concern is not mine to worry. My job is to get to my vaccines and make sure it works, and that’s what I’m paid to do. Whether or not you invested, is none of my concerns.”

You collected your things on the desk. And she smiled wickedly,

“Well then, you leave me no choice, I will have to sue you for forging the templates my company has patented…” “How do you sue me for fraud if I don’t do any forging?”

“You’re surely a meek girl… Seokjin will have to cushion the blow with an expensive legal fee now don’t he?”

Was there a mole in the company? Yoongi walks in. Along with Seokjin.

“Tell them what you did,” Seokjin said, and then, “Tell them what you did!” He thundered.

Yoongi confessed to stealing the documents and making it seem like it was forged. He also sent the emails and had them edited so the dates were wrong. He was paid handsomely by Astra Pharma to send all updates on the formula which then led the pharma company to imitate the make-ups protein-by-protein. He used the friendship he had established with you to gain all access to your files. He also confessed that he refused to continue doing it and when he decided to pull the plugs from Astra Pharma, Astra Pharma threatened him. He had no choice but to abide to the play Yoojin wanted orchestrated. When it was clear what Yoojin actually wanted (to spill dirt on your name so she could feel above you for once in her life after she lost Seokjin), Yoongi decided to come clean. He came to Seokjin’s mother and begged for forgiveness, because it was through her that he had gotten a job in your pharma company.

. . .

Seokjin leans on his blue lamborghini, waiting for you to come outside. He has his Raybans on and a black bomber jacket over a white tee.

“Are you mad at my family?” “Won’t you be?”

The car door lifts up and you climb in.

“You should have just married her and this all could have been avoided.” “Where’s the fun in that?”

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impaladolan · 4 years

Text

Capture - Grayson Dolan [3/-]

summary: everything has started to whirlwind around Y/N as she realizes what predicament she’s in, but is consoled by her captor.. her nameless captor..

warnings: smut & slight fluff :/

a/n: hey, this is part THREE of this little series! if you haven’t, check out part one and two before reading this, or you might be a little confused :) enjoy!

"Don't you make one fucking sound.."

To his hoarse words, your teeth instantly clamped shut around your bottom lip and you closed your eyes in anticipation. You expected to be ruthlessly grabbed and shoved into by his cock, but the slowness of your panties being pulled down your legs and the ever so soft touches of his long fingers against your inner thighs brought you a surprise. And suddenly, the world began spinning around you the moment you felt his thick, and warm tongue glide against your soaked folds. The pit of your stomach shuttered in the overwhelming pressure he had against your extremely sensitive nub, something you have been day-dreaming about ever since you first saw him.

He was slow— almost passionate with the way he moved his pleasureful tongue around your pussy, slurping your arousal like it was a glass of ice water on a hot day. Your hips slowly rolled against his mouth, unintentionally, and your head fell back against the soft mattress beneath you. Your hot breaths filled the absence of sound, as well as his lapping and frustrated groans from underneath you. It seemed purely magical when he creeped one of his thumbs to your bundle of nerves, swiftly rubbing it in small circles. It made your breath become caught within your throat and had your own fingers running through his heavenly soft hair. The way his gruff groans and grunts vibrated through your core and up your spine made it excruciatingly difficult to keep your sounds to yourself.

You had had it when his only free hand crept up through your gown and wrapped itself around your breast, caressing the tenderness and softness. When your hips began to buck a bit more violently and the small, quick intakes of breaths that had queued your soon dispatching, he stopped.

He lifted his head from you and licked his lips, flashing a grin your way. "Such a pretty girl, already fucked out and you've barely been touched." He chuckles as he turns back to his little pile of clothes on the floor, snatching them and leaving the room in a hurry.

You were infuriated.

So much so, that you led your own little hand down there and began to rub at yourself, trying to finish off whatever he had started before he could notice anything. You just circled your clit quickly until your high came, and went, before slipping into your comforting bedding, yet again regretting your day's decisions and falling into a deep and useless slumber.

When you first wake, you quickly notice the weakness between your legs, like it was missing something, but soon after you feel the stretching of your esophagus. And then you're hit with the reoccurrence of the night before. Again, you had let this unknown man take full control of you and liked it.

How disgusting were you? To enjoy something superbly disturbing? What would your mother think?

You shook your head to your own thoughts, sitting up against the pillows and reaching for the newly placed water bottle on the nightstand. You unscrewed the cap and chugged the liquid until there was no more to be gained from it. It at least soothes the aching you felt in your throat, but nothing could stunt the aching and needing pains that your pussy was currently throbbing with.

You didn't feel an ounce of drowsiness at the beginning of the day, like you had the days prior. You felt fully regenerated and well awake. Maybe now you'd be in touch with your morals and mature senses. It has become terribly boring in this room, staring at the walls and ceiling for what seems like hours doesn't help the fact. You would've gotten up and explored your confinement space, but you were terrified he'd make an appearance the moment you step on the ground.

You actually haven't seen him at all today.

You didn't really have a source of time, but by the way the sun was sat in the sky, you had gone a whole entire day without a thing to eat or drink, which angered you. He should at least have enough courtesy to provide meals for your famished self if he's gonna keep you hidden in this place for so long. But then again, you were forcefully kidnapped from a bench only days ago, and could be kept in much worst conditions than you are now. With that simple thought, a tear had formed, watering and blurring your eyesight. Without any consent from your own self, tear after tear began to trail down your frozen cheeks, staining them a darker red. You didn’t even realize you were crying until an explosion of hiccups began to sound from your mouth and send you into a sobbing mess. Your throat began to burn as well as your eyes and your stomach began to lurch within its self, while your head became pained with all the activity that’s happening. You grab one of the pillows laying behind you and squeeze it against you roughly, trying to soothe the discomfort and agony of your new coming realizations. The flow of your tears and whimpers only strengthened, like your body was combusting with the amount of held back frustration you had. The streams of tears began to pool at the bottom of your chin and roll down your neck in thick waves.

You weren’t too sure why you were crying, but it made you feel a little better.

Your sobbing hadn’t come to a stop when the door soundlessly opened and closed. You didn’t even hear him enter, let alone sit beside you. When his large and warm arms wrapped around your small, shuttering frame, you helplessly fell into them. You let go of the pillow and snuck your arms around his muscular torso, squeezing him tighter than you did the pillow as you uncontrollably cry in the crook of his neck. “Why? Why’d you trap me here?” You hardly whispered, but his heart sank deep in his chest the moment you acknowledged him.

He didn’t have an answer. He just swayed the two of you back and forth, easing you into a peaceful sleep that you truly didn’t want, or need. You weren’t awakened when he had easily lifted you up, and carried you away from your enclosed space, leading the two of you down the hallway until he was at the threshold of his own door. He didn’t need to think twice before quietly opening it and settling you on his much more comfortable bed, leaving the lights off and classical music on in the background. He understood your saddened questioning, but he just couldn’t do anything about it quite yet..

You awoke for what seemed like the fiftieth time in a place you didn’t recognize. Instead of the boring grey walls and the one gold-trimmed painting, you were surrounded by pristine white walls with a few different posters of musicians you didn’t really know, except Tame Impala. Your heart almost skipped a beat as your eyes scanned the poster that had tour dates and the songs from the 2015 Currents album.

What a coincidence?

You drew your eyes away from it and settled them on the man sitting in the chair in the corner. Again, your heart leaped out of your chest from slight terror. You hadn’t noticed him before, but he seemed harmlessly asleep. Though his presence slightly angered you, he really did look peaceful and almost cute, snoozing away in the little recliner. A smart person would’ve ran to the door and exited the house as quick as possible and make it to freedom, but your head really wasn’t in the right place for the moment. You just sat there, silently interrogating the nameless man snoring in the corner.

He hasn’t been anything but nice to you, except for the lack of food and water. You faintly remember him saying something about knowing you, but everything’s truly a fog and you can’t tell whether anything is a dream or real life, since you’ve been sleeping entirely too much. Hell, you can’t even recall how you were placed in this room, or why.

But you liked it a lot better than the original room you were in. It’s not freezing cold in this bedroom, it’s comfortably warm and soothing with some sort of autumn smelling candle. Even the few little Halloween decorations around the room, which are slightly early, made this place feel a lot more homely than it should. Because honestly, you shouldn’t be “enjoying” being kidnapped/stolen by some nameless hot guy.

Speaking of, what the hell is his name?

Suddenly, the so-called nameless man begins to shift in his seat, his eyes slowly opening and widening as they adjust to the small light surrounding him. The only light within the room was the window, which displayed the day’s dark overcast from the soon-coming rain. Once he’s familiar with his own room, his eyes land on yours, a sheepish smile covering his lips compared to your stern one. “Good morning, sweetheart.” He firstly says before stretching his arms above his head and letting in a deep yawn.

“Cut the shit, sweetheart. I want to know why I’m here and when I’m allowed to leave, now.” You mock with a darkened voice, just to get your serious point across. He exhaled a large breath and stands to his feet, shuffling over to his dresser, probably finding a shirt since he feels the need to be shirtless all the time..

“Listen, I want details. I’m tired of fucking waking up and falling asleep in a strangers home. So if you could politely drop me off at my own house within the next hour, I won’t press charges. Fair and simple.” You almost plead as he takes his time looking through the drawers of his dresser. His silence and slowness was beginning to get in your nerves. It’s a large pet peeve of yours when you aren’t directly answered.

“Love to, but can’t.” He just simply answers with that, throwing a white shirt over his head and fitting it upon the rest of his body. You internally groan to his statement, shifting your eyes to the doorknob that looked very much enticing. Your head began forming a plan b, if bribing him doesn’t go too well.

“Please..?” You surprised yourself with the stupidly seductive voice you used, something you do to get what you want with men, and it most generally works. “Maybe.” He shrugs, carelessly. He seemed so disinterested and distracted to care about any of the words you were uttering. He strides over to his connecting bathroom, slightly closing the door to piss and brush his teeth.

I guess we’re going straight to plan b, huh?

You hobble out of bed and quietly walk towards the door, successfully letting yourself out without notice. Holy shit. You sprint down the somewhat familiar hallway, around a corner and through the kitchen and what seems to be a living room, until you see a front door looking exit. You immediately scram towards it and unlock the handle and the two deadbolts, successfully pulling it open and letting the outside air smack you right in the face.

Freedom at last.

You run outside, not even caring to close the door, and sprint straight towards the tall fence, the eerie tree-covered surroundings offsetting you slightly. Nevertheless, you ran as fast as possible to the nearest fence sticking your foot in one of the holes to begin your climb. “Hey, get back here!” His low, demanding voice rang through your ears, but you didn’t stop there. You kept climbing, as fast as possible, nearing the top of the fence. You didn’t have the heart to look back and see where he was, you just kept climbing to what would hopefully be safety. The moment you make it to the top to swing your other leg over the fence—

You feel a hand attach to your bare foot..

(masterlist)

#dolan twins #dolan twins smut #dt #grayson dolan #grayson dolan gifs #ily #dtfan10m #grayson smut #dolans #grayson bailey dolan #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson x reader #graysonbailey #grayson fluff

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farouchelyoptimistic · 4 years

Text

Hyunji: Rekindle

Part 1

"So, you're telling me, I should move to another agency? I still don't get it." Yea Ji leans back on her seat as she tries to wrap her head around what the CEO of the company she's under is trying to tell her.

She fully understood what they were saying, but what she wanted to understand was why. She had been under this company for nearly ten years, ever since she had started her career in the business. She knew everyone from the first floor up to the last floor up top. And everyone knew her inside and out. The familiar staff around her was considered family.

And now, at the near end of her contract, instead of talking about renewal, they were talking to her about transferring to another company, a company that hasn't even been established yet.

"It's not like we want you to move, Yea Ji-ah. But their offer is great for you and you'd surely benefit from it a lot. They were formal enough to invite you by contacting us first, and I personally appreciate it." Her boss starts, leaning over the table with his hands clasped together.

"We've been taking care of you for so long, and we would love to do so for some more. But they're offering you something we couldn't get you ourselves. You're like my daughter, and I want the best for you. Even if it means letting you go. Gold Medalist will be established January next year, it's new but it has massive foundations and connections. They're also co-producing a drama under TVN, and they would want you to be the lead if ever you join them. I've heard about the script, Yea Ji-ah. It's going to send you into a breakthrough, one you've been waiting for. This is good. It's hard to let you go, but this is what's best for you. And, after the drama, if they don't treat you half as much as we do, come back to me. We'll have you back in a heartbeat. "

She almost wanted to cry at her boss' words. How could someone, totally unrelated to you, treat you with so much care. She thought about it for a few minutes, silent as she sat in her chair buried in her thoughts.

She had trusted them for so long, and they had never lead her to anything that was bad for her. If they were so sure about this, then there was no reason she shouldn't.

The pen felt heavy in her hand when she signed the exit contract. This was it. She was cutting ties with the company that had handled her for so long. Adding to that, leaving the people that surrounded and took care of her felt nothing more than melancholic. It felt like saying goodbye to her family.

But she believed that it wasn't the end. They were still going to see each other at some point, treat each other as long time friends. They have already carved out a space for them in her heart, and it was theirs forever.

She spent the remaining months of the year traveling and staying at home with her dogs. Somehow, she enjoyed her unemployment. She was basically jobless, not forever, but she tried to enjoy it as much as she can.

Her schedule was usually demanding and draining, sometimes sucking the life out of her. But she also enjoyed the rush, and the thrill and even the sleepless nights and days. More to it, she enjoyed mastering her craft, improving her skills, and developing her prowess. And most especially, she enjoyed putting a smile on her fans' faces. That was the most important thing.

Funny how she never even considered acting as a choice before. She went to a different country to study and finished a totally different degree. When she came home, it came as a surprise also to her when she started working as an actress. Destiny, probably.

Acting was not her choice, acting chose her. Good thing she had a natural knack for it, born with the gift of excellence in anything she dived into. She was a natural-born actor, exemplary in the craft that had grown on her. She had learned to love it.

She was fairly underrated. Mainly because she had started later than everyone else. Compared to others whom everyone saw grow up in their screens, she was still seen as a fresh face, shadowing her magnificent talent.

The awards and all the recognition meant nothing to her though. It was merely unimportant. She wasn't in the game for fame, she was in it because she enjoyed playing. Strengthening her skills, bettering her capabilities. That's what was important for her. Improving, getting better. She wasn't someone who settled for less and provided for less. She wanted to be better, not only for herself but also for her co-actors and the people who are looking up at her.

She was happy with her career already, but the breakthrough her old boss talked about made her feel a little excited. Who doesn't want a breakthrough? She's read the script for the drama they were offering her and it gave her goosebumps. It was going to be a challenging character, but it was complexly marvelous. She always loved a challenge, and this one was a challenge she was willing to take.

That's what she thought about as she walked through the unfamiliar halls of her new company. It was a new environment she needed to get used to.

It was a new journey, she thought. And she'll make sure it was a journey worth traveling.

Signing the contract was quick. The new people that were meant to take care of her seemed kind, and they all welcomed her with warmth. She almost felt like they were family now, a new family.

Just as she makes her way to leave the conference hall, the door opens, sending everyone turning their head to one direction.

What came in after was something she never expected. Someone, rather. Her feet were stuck on the ground, heart rate gradually raising, hammering against the walls of her chest.

"Annyeonghaseyo!" The familiar voice filled the silence.

She hadn't noticed that she was holding her breath until she felt her chest ache from the lack of oxygen. This was what he did, not only to her, but to everyone. He took people's breath away. His presence replacing the air in the lungs.

When he locks his eyes with hers, her breath falters out in a shaky blow.

Those eyes.

"Kim Soo Hyun!" Her new boss exasperates, a loud laugh following as he welcomed him with a hug. She could only stare, watching them exchange hugs and greetings. She swallowed an invisible lump in her throat because just like her, his eyes never left hers.

"Yea Ji-ah, I'm sure you know our Soo Hyun-ah here." The CEO's voice thunders inside the room as he gently pulls Soo Hyun with him, walking towards Yea Ji who was statued in her spot.

She summons all the strength and might from within her and clears her throat lightly. She forces out a smile, nodding her head politely.

"Sunbae-nim." She eyes him for a spilt second, nodding once more.

It almost takes him aback. Sunbae-nim. Oddly, the way she addressed him bothered him. It had been five years since she first called him that, the memory crystal clear in his mind. He could never forget the first time he heard her voice.

What he didn't expect was how she's back to calling him that. It had been embedded in his mind the way she used to call him Soo Hyun Oppa. How it felt warm and comforting whenever she did, how it brought a certain degree of serenity. But now, it felt like they were meeting once again for the first time. Back to square one. Total strangers. The barren coldness in her voice made him feel empty.

He forces out his own smile, though reluctant. He nods his head, unable to look away from her.

"I heard you two worked together a few years ago." Both of them nod in unison. The memory of the ad they shot a few years ago flood their memories. The first time they met.

"De. Just for a quick ad." It was Soo Hyun who decided to confirm. Glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

"Well, if you accept the role, Yea Ji-ah, you guys would be working again."

"What do you mean?" Finally, Yea Ji found her voice.

"Well, he's the male lead of the drama we're offering you. If you choose to accept it, then you guys would be the main leads. So, I really hope you accept it, Yea Ji-ah. Both of you look so good together." Their boss nods his head as he looks at them back and forth.

She could only nod. She was totally taken aback by the information poured over her. Work together, both of them. Again. If only someone else knew about what happened the last time they worked together.

After a few more small talks, she finally managed to excuse herself. Her new boss bids his farewell with a warm fatherly hug, wishing her good luck and anoother triumphant welcome. She only looks at the man behind him, slightly nodding her head before she slides past the long table and walks out the door.

She releases a breath once she was out. She knew it wasn't impossible to run into him at some point. They were revolving in the same world, same business. It was inevitable. But she successfully managed to work without having to cross paths with him for so long, that when she met him today, totally unprepared and overwhelmed, she felt a slight rattle in her stomach.

And now, she was signed in the same agency with him, and may or may not work with him too. It felt like a train was rushing towards her in full gear, ready to slam against her out of her wits.

She was barely ten steps away from the door when someone suddenly grabs her hand. She immediately turns around, the shock making her jolt on her feet.

"Yea Ji. . . . ssi."

She stammered at the sight before her. Kim Soo Hyun, holding her wrist, so gentle and warm. His eyes were fixed on her, watching her as she looks down on his hand against her skin.

He immediately lets go, wary of the rationality of his impulsive action. He swallows an invisible lump, placing the hand he once had on her to the back of his nape. He suddenly felt warmth creep up to his cheeks, shy. He felt flustered with her presence and the way her eyes pierced through his.

There was something new in the way her orbs glowed. It was different from the ones that were blanketed with sullen shyness and sweetness. It was still there alright, but now there was something new. Confidence, a lot of them.

It made him weak in the knees. Flustered. Swivet. Now, he felt like he couldn't look her straight in the eyes. He can't even bring himself talk clearly.

"Uhm, " He lets out a breath. "Yea Ji-ssi. Do you want to go grab something to drink? They serve good coffee at the cafeteria." He tries to hold her gaze, but it was so intense he felt like he needed to look away.

He needed to look away to stop himself from advancing into something that might just freak her out. And that's the last thing he wants, freak her out.

Coffee. She almost wanted to chuckle. It also started with a cup of coffee. She unconsciously bit her bottom lip, thinking it through.

"You know, for old time's sake?" His anxiety was growing as he anticipated her answer. He was slowly trying to ready himself for whatever her answer is, slightly terrified if she said no.

She let's out a breath. For old time's sake. There was no reason to deny an old friend, acquaintance rather, a cup of coffee to share. It was just coffee. Well it was what she thought a few years ago too. Just coffee.

This time though, it's just going to be coffee. It had to be.

When she nods her head and releases a small smile, he almost wanted to jump up and down, fist the air like he did the first time she agreed to have coffee with him.

Shoving the fireworks of feelings erupting in him to the back of his head, he smiles. Stepping aside to lead her the way. She took cautious steps beside him, the fat obvious distance between them is failed to be unnoticed. But he doesn't push. He doesn't speak. He tries to bask in the silence between them, it wasn't as comforting as it was before, but it was with her, so he'll take it.

"Here." He enthusiastically pushes the glass door open, letting her enter first. Immediately, the smell of the freshly brewed coffee fills her nose, making her smile. She loved coffee. It never failed to comfort her in any way.

He found himself significantly jumpy, yet careful. He runs pass her, pulling a chair for her. He smiles, eyeing her shyly as she courteously nods, sitting down as he gently pushes it back.

He basically runs to the counter, ordering two cups of iced coffee. Watching her from behind, made him stop in his tracks. Her black silky hair cascaded down her back, sparkling under the sunlight that seeped through the glass walls.

Just as he remembered her, she sat with her back straight, her broad shoulders flat and hands clasped together on her thighs. She was anxious. She was like that the first time he had coffee with her.

And for some reason, it pulled out the melancholy in him.

He smiled through it as he carefully slides the cup of coffee towards her. He eyes her for a second as he took a seat, looking down immediately. She mumbled a soft 'thank you', her low voice sending a calm chill down the pit of his stomach.

His foot continued to tap against the tiled floor, his eyes fixed on his cup, his fingers holding it tight. He was nervous. Yet, he was excited.

Letting out a breath, he finally looks at her fully. Her light make up accentuated her features, her smooth glass skin glowing. She was beautiful, she has always been. And like she did the first time he saw her, she took his breath away.

He couldn't help but smile.

"How have you been?" He bites his bottom lip, anticipating her response.

She smiles. She's been trying to hold it in for a while, but she couldn't help it anymore. She smiles.

"I've been doing well. I guess you have too. I've heard you just got discharged from the military. Congratulations." She tells him with genuine sincerity, looking straight into his beautiful brown orbs.

He smiles, nodding his head. He had a scarcity of words. When he heard about her joining the company, he had thought of a million things he could say to her. Now that she was merely less than a meter away from him, he had nothing. He was enticed by her presence.

He didn't have this problem before, because whenever he had nothing to say, he would listen. He would sit in front of her, listening to her talk. She has the most beautiful, most attractive voice. And she loved to talked.

She talked endlessly whenever she was with people she was comfortable with, and he used to bask in the serenity and the calm that her voice brought. Her silence made him weary, has she lost the comfort she once felt for him long ago?

"It's nice to see you. It's been a few years since. . . . we" Broke up?

"Went our separate ways." She finished his sentence for him. She knew he had thought about saying they 'broke up' but they didn't.

It wasn't considered a breakup when they weren't anything, to begin with. They had just decided not to proceed with anything and went separate ways. It was complicated, but it was a mutual decision. Both agreed upon.

What happened to them was like fireworks. Sudden, beautiful and electrifying, yet short lived. It was a beauty not meant to last.

"Anyways, welcome to the company. I hope you consider taking the role, it would be nice to work with each other again. I would love to work with you." He says, hoping she feels the same way. It was true, he wanted to work with her. He had secretly watched all her movies, all her dramas, even the variety shows she was in.

She was a gem in the industry, and he hated how underrated she was. He saw how marvelous of an actress she is, and as an actor, he would love to work with someone with such dynamics.

It was just a bonus that it was her as well.

"I'll think about it. It would be an honor to work with you too, Sunbae-nim." She says, reluctantly nodding her head. There's so much to think about. So much to consider. But she was enticed by the complexity of the role that it would be so hard to let go of the thought of playing it.

As much as she would want to deny it, acting alongside him is inviting. He was a seasoned actor, talented and marvelous in his own right. The opportunity is one of a kind.

"Yea Ji-ah." The informality surprised her, making her stare. Making her heart make a small flip inside her chest.

"We were friends. We shouldn't be too formal. We are friends. Let's be friends? I-I want to be your friend. Yea Ji-ah." His voice almost started to tremble.

He was aware of how much she's changed. Evolved. She was already intimidating back then, now she was more than that. He almost felt like she was out of his league. And it slightly terrified him.

His breath falters when she pushes her chair back, fishing her phone to read a message. She stands up and politely nods her head.

He stares at her in bewilderment, slowly pushing himself up. His heart suddenly raced and slammed. Was she rejecting his offer of being friends?

He was about to say something, anything. But he doesn't get the chance because she smiles at him. Small but genuine.

"See you around, Soo Hyun Oppa."

He lets out a breath. A breath of relief as he watches her turn around and walk away. Dumbfounded, slightly, but he releases a triumphant smile.

The universe had been fairly cruel to them, but maybe it wasn't entirely. Sometimes the world breaks things apart so they could grow individually, so that when it's time to bring them back together, they would form an unbreakable beautiful whole.

#psycho but its okay #its okay to not be okay #kim soo hyun #seo yea ji #hyunji #hyunjicouple

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mattzerella-sticks · 4 years

Text

Lonely Together (3k, Barry Allen/Bruce Wayne, M)

ao3 link

Barry needs others, yet whether by his enemies or his own actions, he ends up alone. After Iris leaves him, Barry feels as if he drifts through life. Like lightning humming in the air without a rod to ground him.

Until he struck another lonely soul and entered a relationship he never thought possible. Now, months since he and Bruce began sleeping with each other, Barry feels settles. At peace in a way he hasn't felt in a long while. Since he and Iris started petering out.

But it's not love... is it?

Barry wakes unintentionally, consciousness stirring without say. Currents of electricity that relentlessly hum under his skin strengthen in another’s presence. Especially when it’s familiar. They spark like lightning, striking until he surfaces from sleep’s drowning tides. His eyelids flutter open, though his head remains pillowed by soft down. He watches, shadowed in darkness, as Bruce sneaks around the room. “Hey,” he drawls, voice scratchy from sleep. Grin unfurling lazily while Bruce’s form tensed, “you just swing in?”

Bruce sets something down on a neighboring dresser, turning. He can’t see fine details, like his self-disparaging frown or furrowed brows interrupted by a wrinkled comma, but Barry imagines them easily. Knows these features intimately. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

An unnecessary apology. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep here,” Barry replies, then drags his hand across the comforter. Thumb brushing against a loose seam. “So, I guess we’re even.”

“You didn’t mean to?” Bruce asks, advancing. He sits on the opposite side of his bed, finding Barry’s hand and intertwining their fingers. “What were you doing then?”

“Waiting for you.”

He arrived earlier, vibrating past security and locked doors. Shouted into an empty apartment where his voice echoed, unanswered. Half-a-second spent checking each room, Barry knew Bruce wasn’t there. Slowly, Barry retraced his steps. Stood near the front door, wondering. Debated if he should leave for Central City or stay in Gotham. Both options similar in that no matter what he decided, he’d be alone.

They were different types of loneliness, however. He left Central tonight because what he faced was too suffocating. Barry ran and ran, only it waited there behind every corner. Inescapable on well-tread streets he loved. Growing from cracks on sidewalks like weeds, strong despite how many times crushed. Returning even if ripped out of the soil. And while these desolate sprigs littered his city, it didn’t compare to the jungle in his home. Wild, vast, with hanging vines that slithered across his shoulders. Tickled his neck during particularly quiet moments that made Barry acknowledge how empty it seemed after Iris.

At least, in Bruce’s apartment, it was different. Like being alone in an elevator that crawled upwards.

Less insistent. More manageable. Its presence didn’t insist recognition, merely a temporary visitor. Disappearing soon as Bruce arrived back. Barry walked towards Bruce’s bedroom, resolute, shedding his clothes along the way. He grabbed a book he hadn’t finished reading since last he was there. Settled down and opened to a bent age corner.

He can’t feel the book. Bruce must have removed it. Maybe it’s what woke him.

Leaning forward, Bruce presses a tiny kiss at the seam of Barry’s lips. Pulls him free of his thoughts. “I’m sorry,” he tells him, “I was out later than I expected, than I wanted to be…”

“It’s okay,” Barry whispers. His other hand slides into his friend’s hair, playing with it. Brunet curls soft and damp from sweat. “I’m okay.”

He nods, yet Bruce still looks troubled. Dark gaze piercing, staring deeply into Barry’s own. Drifting closer, their noses brush. Bruce speaks again, breath ghosting over his mouth. Warm and intoxicating. “If you’re able and… in the mood…” he offers, “We can…?” Bruce trails off, not bothering with saying the rest. Barry understands regardless. Because of how he hovers, braced atop him, Barry caged in on either side by Bruce’s arms. Because Bruce asks his own way, through gentle squeezes of their joined hands that he repeats in rapid succession. Because they’ve done this before and grew far beyond the rushed unsurety from their first time.

Barry kissed him, accidentally. Compelled more by a longing for touch than of Bruce. For a distracting, newer sensation besides the soul-crushing hollowness that roared inside his chest since Iris ended things. Needed some reminder he was alive after another harrowing mission that almost cost the League their lives, again. Again.

Like a rowdy storm, Barry thundered with unexpressed adrenaline that demanded release. A lightning rod he could cling to, grounded and tethered in the present.

Bruce was there. Offering Barry coffee from their conference room’s private pot, a gesture of solidarity at being forgotten while everyone else fled for home. He accepted the gifted novelty Superman mug, sipping absentmindedly. “It’s decaf, drowning in cream, smothered in sugar…” Bruce said, “that’s your usual, right?”

It was. Bruised, bloodied, and exhausted from battling ancient, cosmic entities hellbent on planetary destruction, and Bruce remembered how he liked his coffee.

The mug shattered as he dropped it, but Barry did not hear more than a tinny pop. His drink splashed their feet, leaving brown, splotchy stains he noticed hours later. Barry jumped Bruce, hauling him close by his cape. Kissed Bruce as his mind played static. In rapid succession, that static disappeared. Rationality descending with vengeance, circling, bombarding Barry with explosive truths.

He kissed Batman. That’s his friend. He kissed Batman. He’s a man. He kissed Batman. Inside the Hall of Justice, where anyone could find them. He kissed Batman. He kissed Batman. He kissed Bruce.

Drifting apart, he ignored tingling skin to pry a coherent thought out from the overgrown bramble that was his mind. “Bruce,” Barry choked, grip on Bruce’s cape loose and dangling. Gaze dropping, he focused on his chest. Bat fluttering with every exhale. “I… I don’t, I’m so – “

Bruce wouldn’t let him explain, roughly capturing Barry’s lips in response. Frenzied, trapping Barry between his body and the table. With a passionate reception like that, Barry felt his worry melt. Became a gentle tide coaxing him deeper. Willingly swept farther than his cares might reach. Bruce’s deft fingers trailing, tickling, at his sides made thinking about the empty bed in his apartment very difficult. When he pulled his cowl back, pinning Barry with an indescribable hunger burning behind his eyes, any disappointment over an understocked fridge waiting at home disappeared. And as Bruce slid one glove off using his teeth, second hand preoccupied teasing Barry’s waistband, Barry’s sole concern was unhitching his friend’s belt.

“Yeah, like that,” Bruce sighed, “let me make this good for you…” He touched Barry’s already half-hard cock, cupping it. Rhythmically sliding his hand while their hips ground together. Barry softly cursed, pressure mounting. Bruce’s dick throbbed against his and tempted him further, headed for the edge. Plummeting when he twisted his wrist, Bruce sucking an aggressive mark below Barry’s chin that joined a loose collection of already fading bruises.

Barry came, panting, chasing those last few seconds of bliss until his muscles sagged from fatigue. Kept upright by his friend’s strong hold. Bruce joined him with a strangled curse, head resting on Barry’s shoulder. Panting, they lingered in each other’s embrace. Aware that this meager amount of pleasure had redefined their relationship.

Hours later, Barry lay awake in bed. Mind restaging their sordid affair, body igniting at the memory of where Bruce grazed him. He fondled pale skin, unblemished now that his accelerated healing factor kicked on. Barry wished it hadn’t. Admitting that, then, even as a whisper from his subconscious, terrified him. Grabbing the pillow on Iris’s untouched side, he held it across his face. Screamed his frustration, and again when he realized her scent finally faded from the fabric.

Those next few weeks were awkward. During meetings, sitting feet from where he orgasmed and pretending it never happened while evading Bruce’s searching gaze. Boundless excuses, lies, of where he needed to be. Fleeing before Bruce could reach him. Volunteering for any mission, throwing himself into heroics where bad guys needed defeating, lives were saved, and he could act like nothing about his world changed.

Anything that kept him from asking questions he could not answer truthfully.

Despite his best efforts – his superhuman speed – Bruce pulled ahead. Running a marathon instead of the sprint Barry hoped it was.

“We need to talk,” he said, “about… coffee, the other night.” Bruce’s grip tightened on the Javelin’s yoke, glare firm and unwavering out at space. Barry, meanwhile, shrunk in his seat. Conversation he dreaded crashing into him like a meteor.

Oliver radioed Barry for a mission, about a distress signal League channels recorded. From what they deciphered, the code was obsolete and most likely false. However, sparing resources, he figured a small team could check. Confirm their prior suspicions. Barry agreed, racing over. Only he hadn’t realized his teammate for this mission would be the same man he was avoiding.

Following debriefing and takeoff, they traveled in uncomfortable silence broken with Bruce’s demand.

Barry reigned back telltale vibrations, hiding his nerves. “Okay,” he said, “Yeah…” He squeezed his fists and chuckled, “You know how I take my coffee?”

Bruce allowed him this short reprieve. “It always struck me odd, and… hypocritical, how you liked it. Why choose decaf if you’re adding that much sugar?”

“It offsets the bitter taste, is all.”

“Barry…” He wrangled their conversation onto its path once more, tone absent of any levity. “What we did, I…” Bruce paused, testing what he wants to say. Lines around his mouth shifting as he cycles through his thoughts. “I’m not sure how we should proceed.”

“Neither do I,” Barry shrugged, “Not talking about it was working well for me.”

“You’ve been acting noticeably strange during missions. I’ve been… unsettled, too. At times.” Barry’s chest twinged, an annoyance he dealt with by crossing his arms and scowling. “If this continues, affecting future missions –“

“Because it’s always about this mission, isn’t it?”

Bruce sighed, then Barry felt a gentle brush against his elbow. Leaving the Javelin on autopilot, he let his hands wander. They settled on Barry. One at his elbow, another squeezing Barry’s knee. “Do you…” Bruce strained, forcing his next question past with serious effort. It piqued his interest, wondering what he might say. Obviously difficult, Barry sloped forward as the silence grew. “Do you,” he finally continued, “regret… what happened?”

He should. They were teammates. Friends who stupidly jerked each other off. Bruce… was the first man he ever let touch him that intimately. Combined, these arguments battered down like a hurricane, reasons how everything about what he and Bruce did – what Barry initiated – was an enormous misunderstanding. A mistake that never should have been. And yet he could not cobble together some form of regret.

Worse, Barry still yearned for more.

Barry did not believe he deserved more. The ink from where Iris’s name was tattooed on his heart hadn’t fully disappeared; a relic of what he lost, stinging with each beat. Those scant moments, lost in the throes of passion alongside Bruce, were some of the best he had in months. He made Barry forget his failed relationship like a strong drink or the best drug. How was it possible?

Determined, Barry turned his neck slightly. Readied a false speech, about being tired and shaken. That their tryst meant nothing and should be forgotten.

Except he caught Bruce’s stare. His naked gaze, cowl discarded when he wasn’t looking. Layers peeled backwards, exposing a vulnerable side of his friend Barry rarely saw. Shoulders hunched, weighed heavily by an answer Barry hadn’t given. Wisps of disappointment hung in the air like smoke from an ashen cigarette. He cleared his throat, going over what he wanted to say.

Then tossed the script.

“I… No,” he confessed, surprising both of them. Bruce’s jaw shifted and a small gasp escaped. “I don’t.” It was his turn. “Do you?”

His hand slid across his forearm, covering Barry’s hand. “No.”

“…What do we do now?”

Humming, thumb petting his upper shin, Bruce offered a suggestion. “It’s been… hard for both of us, hasn’t it? The lives we lead… there’s little chance for that kind of peace. Boats with no safe harbors to rest at, not anymore.” Not since Iris, in a cold whisper, explained how claustrophobic and helpless Barry left her feeling most days. Not since Selina and Bruce came upon a crossroads and chose different paths. “I think that if we want to… engage in activities like – uh, like coffee, then why shouldn’t we? As long as we’re mature about it, and what we do won’t interfere with our duties…”

Barry weakly snorted, Bruce’s clinical description goading him into it. He laid the idea out logically and he found no flaw in his reasoning. A small crack of doubt shoved its way in, that he misheard. Bruce suggesting, put crudely, a ‘friends-with-benefits’ arrangement? But then Barry remembered how eagerly Bruce flew, chasing his lips. That it was his hand edging him into completion. Suddenly, it didn’t seem like the wishful thinking he assumed.

Especially as Bruce’s hand crept towards his waistband. “What are you -?”

“Incentive,” Bruce smirked, “Showing you how good this will be. That I can make it.” ‘Let me make this good’ was what he said, while jerking him inside the Hall. “Is that okay?”

Chuckling, Barry brushed his wavy bangs back. “I thought you didn’t want this to get in the way of our jobs?”

“Autopilot is an amazing invention. Doing our job at double the speed, leaving more time for… coffee.”

Barry kissed him, punishing him for such a lame joke by nipping his bottom lip. Soothed it with his tongue while he helped Bruce, shimmying his hips. Pants bunched near his knees, Barry’s cock bobbed between his legs.

Bruce climbed out of the pilot’s seat, kneeling at his feet. “So,” he growled, breath hot as it hit his twitching cock, “that’s a yes? We’re doing this?”

“This is dumb. Dangerous. And it’s going to end poorly for the both of us,” Barry muttered, grip twisting in Bruce’s hair after he licked a strip up his cock, “Of course we’re doing it.”

He was mostly right. During a particularly harried affair, Barry caught sight of his costumed reflection in one of the League’s interrogation rooms’ one-sided mirrors. Watched as he thrust his cock, Bruce’s ass accepting its length. His face, masked, contorted pleasurably. Barry stuttered, taking in the full picture. Flash fucking Batman, like they were a bad porno. If only the camera wasn’t disabled… Scoffing, he relaxed his grip on his friend’s hips. Instead reaching for Bruce’s cowl, ripping it off. His, too, in the next beat. “What?” Bruce asked.

“This is so stupid,” he huffed, hips rolling slower than before, “What are we even doing?”

“I think that’s pretty obvious.”

Barry sighed, “No, like… objectively. Aren’t we too old to be doing this, or… I don’t know, better than it? I doubt this is what most people imagine heroes do in their spare time.”

“We’re only human, Barry,” Bruce said, grunting as he slammed into his prostate, “We can… can afford a few minutes off the pedestal.”

“I guess…”

“Hey,” Bruce twisted, catching his eye in the mirror, “are you having second thoughts?”

“No.”

“This is good?”

He languidly traced Bruce’s spine, cautious of every bump. “The best.” Then, pressing hard at the dip of his ass, he added, “Even if Oliver expected us at training five minutes ago.” Barry orgasmed, Bruce’s laughter booming and stretched hole choking his cock.

Dumb. Dangerous. Although their situation actually improved since they began, and Barry cannot picture this ever ending.

Bruce noses at his chin, stubble scratching his neck. “Hey,” he asks, “is this good?”

“It is,” he responds instinctively, “Sorry, my mind was elsewhere.”

“Was it?” Bruce lavishes a spot under his ear, one that electrifies his entire body, “Then I guess I’m not really being good, am I?” He sits on Barry’s cock, sliding his ass along its length. “Are you still with me?”

“I never left.” Barry kisses him, smiling wide enough he ruins their embrace. His hands roam, active participants now. Crossing the planes of Bruce’s body for purchase. However, in his search, he brushes against cuts and wounds different from those he knows. Passing a deep valley at his ribs, Barry’s thumb dips into a small lake. Bruce’s breath hitches, coughing a low whine. Barry ends their kiss to study his wet thumb. Copper invades his senses, and his eyes adjust enough he sees red. “You’re hurt.”

“Not badly,” Bruce amends. He rests his forehead against Barry’s. “It’s nothing, I… I took a hit, earlier. Harley didn’t see the blade and – it doesn’t matter –“

“It matters Bruce,” Barry tells him, “Of course it does.” He taps on Bruce’s shoulder, signaling for a dismount. Bruce listens, wincing as he settles onto his side. “This shouldn’t be good for just me. You deserve it, too.” As he speaks, Bruce’s head lists, lashes fluttering. Barry notes the bags pillowing his eyes were puffier and more purple than ever. “Are you up for this?”

Bruce sighs, “You came all this way –“

“Yes, I did. But I didn’t ask about me, Bruce.” He caresses Bruce’s face, unbloodied thumb grazing his lip. “What do you want?”

“I…” Bruce levels his focus elsewhere, gazing past Barry. Afraid. “I’m tired, and I could really sleep. But I, uh… I’d rather not sleep alone.”

Neither would he. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I mean,” he turns, staring at the ceiling, “I was already asleep before you got here. And I bet you were gonna slip in beside me, weren’t you? If I didn’t catch you?”

“I… I was.” Bruce collapses, head landing atop Barry’s chest. Hairs tickling his chin, arms curling around his waist. Yawning, Bruce snuggles him close. “We can finish this later, in the morning… if that’s okay?”

Barry threads his fingers through Bruce’s hair, smiling. “We don’t have to. If we can’t, then we can’t.” He repeats this, a melody that helps his friend drift off. Barry’s voice fades, soon silence overpowering the mantra.

Body leaded but unbidden by shame, Barry continues lazily stroking Bruce. Petting him felt nice. Somehow better than the heavier actions previously done. Reminds him of better nights, when he and Iris lay together in bed. Exchanging tidbits about their day until they fell asleep. Before those cracks in their relationship spread and it shattered.

Thinking about Iris stings, but not like it used to. Dulled by Bruce’s very presence. A man who lived in shadows bringing a new light into his life.

He glances down at Bruce while he slumbers, heart sparking wildly. A possibility flashing like lightning inside grey rain clouds. That Barry could one day fall in love with Bruce, if he hasn’t already.

#batflash #barry allen x bruce wayne #barry x bruce #barry/bruce #batman x flash #batman/flash #barry allen #bruce wayne #bisexual barry allen #bisexual bruce wayne #batflash fanfic #dcu comics fanfic

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myfeetkeepdancing · 4 years

Text

Royal Blood | Tom Holland x Male!Reader

Words: 3833

Request: This idea just came to me but like, a prince Tom x prince reader where Tom’s dated the reader before but both of their parents didn’t approve and forced them to split up. Times later, Tom went to another kingdom’s party/ ball and found out that reader was forced to be with someone else. They still love each other and they ended up running away with each either for the night. Eventually their parents found out about what happen but Tom decided to stay with the reader regardless.

A/N: Changed it a slight bit. Enjoy!

The carriage slowly slumbers down the cobblestone road. Past the curtains and through the small dirty windows, you watch the shape of the keep loom on the horizon.

"Darling, I know it pains you." Feeling the touch of a tender hand rest upon your knee. "But let us do this for your nephew and uncle." Her voice was so soothing and calm. Josephine had the best intentions for you. Good of heart, and always by your side. A listening ear and independent advisor you could trust. A wife that every man should have. Except you. For times are different.

Since the invite arrived many moons ago, you felt disillusioned. Lost in thoughts and haunted by recollections of the past. Your keen mind wasn't what it used to be. Your strong will, sharp wit, and sense of justice had faded away. Hunting parties were called off. Royal banquets and meetings with the Lords and members of the Church were postponed. Public displays weren't happening as often. The people spoke about it. Your secret was known to the very few. And those who knew outside that circle didn't live long enough to tell the tale.

"It troubles me greatly. For it kept me awake so many nights." You sigh deeply, pained by the confrontation that was bound to happen. "I'm so sorry." Wiping your eyes clean. "I just can't..."

"I know you have. I have seen it, my good man." Her hand caressing up and down your spine. "But you can not be seen with him. It will complicate matters greatly." She was right. The last thing you would want in front of everyone. Even if you desired it most of all. For the greater good, you couldn't. Not tonight, at least. Not for your lands, but also not for your dynasty, and family name. Your parents already had made their mark on your lives. Now you were free of their tyranny, and you certainly don't want to give them another chance to reprimand you. "But I think he will be very happy with what you have brought him." She nudged you in your side, her kind smile radiating on you. "He will be so happy. I know he will." Helping you fit the last bits of armor on.

"What if-..." Her lips cut off your words. "I…" You stammer indifferent and unsure, you gaze falling to the floor, feeling a sense of defeat and sadness wash over you.

"Look at me." Turning your head with her soft fingers on your cheek. "If the time is right, my darling. The time is right. I don't blame you."

"You do know he is…"

"I know." She nodded with a reassuring smile. "As much I hate losing you, I want you to be happy."

"Thank you." You whisper to her, unable to keep your smile hidden by the simple thought of it even happening tonight. "Thank you…" Josephine helps further with suiting up. Tightening the last belts and running a cloth over your plating. Pulling yourself together as the carriage rolled across the bridge. Through the gate into the inner courtyard. The high walls of the keep surrounding the inner courtyard were lined with sentries. Every meter or so, a man stood readily. Sword and shield in hand. Archers atop the towers. You admired such grand armies. You would rather inspect those, then attend this dreadful party.

You force out your kindest smile, before stepping out the carriage. Shaking hands with the greeting party. A small army of housekeepers takes care of your luggage. Crates and chest full of gifts and clothing to spend the night. In the worst-case scenario, these parties tend to last a week. Shaking that horrible vision from your thought, you turn towards the Guard Captain. An old instructor from back in the days of your training. Before turning into the keep and avoiding unnecessary small talk with nobles and the like. You manage to get a short tour of the armory. But not for too long. Well aware that Josephine was waiting for you. With your following and personal Guard unloading the carriages. You catch up with your wife and link arms. She gives you a reassuring smile and a kiss. Before you tread into Lion's den. Literally and figuratively.

The pillars of the Grand Hall reach high into the sky. A marvelous feat of engineering. Its features came close to that of a cathedral. Pillars cut of the best marble originating from all across the Kingdom. And large granite slabs of stones. Enormous is the size and shining clearly. Through the large doors, you are greeted by a large mosaic round window above the King's seat. Now moved several places down. It now stood proudly at the head of the table. The sun illuminating those chairs in specific.

The voices of high standing officials and members of large families echoes throughout the hall. Accompanied by Josephine, you shake hands with many. Most of them familiar to you. Once upon a long ago, you probably had business with them. Either through the Merchants Guild or the Army. Although your age, you established a vast network of people in various places. You were renowned in many regions. Valued and praised. Your family name sure playing a part in that. In the back of your mind, the thought that he would be here made you slightly anxious. You were warm to the touch. Heart fluttering. Nervous.

Conversations with your uncle went without trouble. You were in high regard to him. In turn, making him a scapegoat for your parents. He knew. But wasn't moved by it. Everyone had their secrets. And he didn't bother. He knew very well how to handle your parents and their disdain. Your presents were well received. Receiving grand applause and much praise. Your nephew pleased with your presence. Strengthening your bond with him and their house.

But you wish you weren't here. Just stay in your own hold, with your own private banquet. But your advisors had pressed you. The wisest of them all, your wife. These moments were vital for your future alliances. And you couldn't put that at risk. Certainly not when the older generation was running at their end. The new generation was preparing itself.

The feast was truly something. All the wine and mead one could think of. The tastiest and most luxurious animals were prepared in honor. Brought in from all across the land. The most exquisite fruits and vegetables were served. And many more. One to write tales bout. A feast for the books. The seating of the night was in your favor. Josephine beside you and a fellow army commander sat beside you. Your parents luckily far away from you. Out of their reach. But not from their long talons. The later the evening, the more careful you had to be with your words. Their following was also present. They kept their distance up until now. But they closed in on you, bit by bit. A most unpleasurable way of keeping an eye on you.

There he was. Like fate had made it so. The crowd had dispersed a little as the evening progressed. He at first didn't notice. You stared at him. You couldn't help it. You try to blink the welling tears away. Heart racing in your chest. The air stocked in your throat. For many years, you hadn't seen him. You couldn't. Forced apart. Yet there he was. He was everything you remembered, and more. His hair combed gracefully. Broad shoulders, and muscular arms. It required little imagination to know what was underneath that plate mail. A dreamy sigh escapes your lips. Trying to compose yourself. But even drinking one of the best wines, couldn't quench your thirst. That moment of eye contact. His smile. His eyes. Burning deep into your soul. You raise your glasses to each other. Noticing the beautiful woman linked in his arm. You heard the rumors. Tom was also forced to marry a woman of nobility. A wealthy and influential family. Turning the game into one with incredibly high stakes. You have trouble to avert your eyes back to your own conversation. The thought that this could be the last time was heartbreaking. In all, you were conflicted by emotions and flooded by doubt. You swear you could melt the plate mail right of your body. You were boiling. Overwhelmed. What were you to do?

But they were watching. From every corner. You feel their eyes burning in the back of your head.

Josephine had witnessed the whole ordeal. It was quick, and nothing out of the ordinary. But too many eyes were on you. "Stay focused, my love." She whispered to you. "Stay strong."

The evening went on and on. Late into the night. You had passed on the wine after a few. You needed to stay sharp of mind. But the mood was right. The eyes had diverted after a good while. Music was played, and jesters were performing. A true spectacle to behold.

"M'Lord?" A follower of you grabs your attention as he leans into your ear. "An urgent matter needs your attention immediately." Excusing yourself, you slip from your entourage. Your personal guards awaiting you outside the Grand Hall, ready to escort you. All in full plate, a sight to behold. "This way." The commanding officers said with an icy tone. Leading you down the corridors of the castle. Its many passages sprawling with activity. Ascending a flight of stairs up, you end up in a more quiet place. Only the sound of rattling steel armor against the cobblestone. Marching behind you. The thought crossed your mind that Josephine was nowhere to be seen. For all you know, something terrible might have happened. Your expression grew grave at the thought of what kind of trouble the incompetent fools had managed to afflict during your time of absence.

The servant leads you further down the hall, around another corner. Halting at a particular door. Bowing deeply before you, as he opened the door. You march in, hand on the pommel of your sword. Trying to maintain your dominant and powerful posture as well as a calm attitude. As your mind was occupied by various situations.

But except for the furniture, there was no one there. Apart from the small dancing flames on top of the candles. The room was filled with emptiness and silence. Your eyes scour from left to right through the room. Your brown knitting together in an aggravated look. Until your eyes spot the rose. In the middle of the room stood a royal bed, big curtains hanging from either side. And in the center lay one red rose. "What kind of joke is this…?" You mutter with a hint of masculinity in your voice. You halt your pace as you hear the door fall shut behind you. But before you turn around, you're frozen to the spot, as a pair of hands close around your shoulders. "Time has aged you incredibly well." Whispered into your left ear. You recognize that voice out of a thousand. A voice that sends shivers down your spine. Make you all warm and fuzzy on the inside. So silky smooth and tender. His breath tickling your skin. You can't help but release a shuddering breath. Smiling as you feel his body move closer.

"T-Thomas..." You sputter. Biting down on your lower lip, stifling your smile.

"Not so formal, my love." He chuckled softly while drawing his body flush against yours. The cold steel of his breastplate obstructing you from any form of physical touch. Only his soft fingers grace on your skin.

"Tom…" You let out a soft moan, closing your eyes for a moment. The edges of your lips curving into a smile. "You know..." No more words come from your lips. As his warm lips connect with the side of your neck. Sucking on the skin as his fingers reached underneath your armor plating. You can't help but shudder at his touch. "If they find out-..." You groan heavily. Paralyzed by his heavenly caressing lips. Slow and passionate. Like a long lost kiss, finally finding its beloved skin.

"...-It's going to be war." His voice was soft and caring. "Yes, I do know." He was aware of the complications. The slightest suspicion could bring bad tidings for you and his house. Not to speak of the Kingdom. But he seemed unmoved by the thought. And frankly, you began to care less and less. His hands slowly trace down your back, while carefully leaving marks in the crook of your neck. You can't help but whimper under his touch. His fingers found the buckles, relieving you from your cuirass.

"Before or after…?" Hinting at the sexual tension between the two of you, while turning to face him. A loving smile greeting you. Kind and inviting. Full of adoration and love. His hands immediately cup your cheeks. A reunion long-awaited. Longed for. Tears of joy well in your eyes as you take in his features. But only for a brief moment, as he tilts his head, his lips connecting with yours. "But I think you've already made your choice." Slowly lowering your cuirass to the floor.

"I know you like that armor, but to me…" Caressing your cheek with his thumb. "...-you've always looked better without."

"The same goes for you." Pressing your lips on his cheek and work your way to his side, unlocking all the hinges and straps that kept the breastplate together around his torso. "But my imagination can only go so far." You tease him as you undo him of his armor. Underneath the ornately decorated plate, hang a tunic wrapped around its frame. Beautiful of color and with a certain style rarely seen. How he does it, you don't know. But it makes you smile, the moment your nostrils catch a whiff of his perfume. It takes a few secure straps to free him entirely of his armor.

"It's been so long." He beamed, looking at you with heart eyes. Pulling at the cord of your gambeson. You follow his lead and reveal his muscular body, broad shoulders, and well-rounded pecs.

"How are the arr-...." Your question of worry and mind occupied by doubt, are silenced by his lips. This time pulling you flush against his warm, welcoming frame. His warm breath fanning down your body. All the hills and valleys of his muscles massaging you.

"It's taken care of, sweetheart." He smiled proudly. Leading you to the bed. Step by step. In the arms of the man you love. "Tonight is the night." You both can't help but smile out of happiness. "I told them… We.. needed to take care of something first." Discarding the last bit of linen from the both of you. Toppling you onto the large bed. No struggle. Only passion and lust. As Tom spreads his legs for you. Inviting your rod into his warm tight hole. And as the party downstairs went on. You made love to the man you've always desired. Pushing into him with the intensity of a lion. Tom's heavy groans sounded continuously throughout the quarter as you pound him. In the harmony of the sound of slapping flesh and pleasured moans. Together you had made plans to run away. A Safe haven. Somewhere far away. Distant and unknown. Just for the two of you. And tonight was the night.

Through a narrow passageway, you follow after Tom. Dressed in full armor again, the metal clinging and swaying side to side. Not very quietly. Your heart skips a beat for moment when you emerge in one of the hallways again. Either side guarded by heavy armored brutes. The very few light sources gave them a grim and terrifying sight. But with a flick of his finger. "Men." Tom commanded. And from darkness grew a small force together. There voices hushed and low. "Here, let's be extra cautious." Handing you pitch-black cloak with hood. "Your men are waiting in the courtyard." He assured you while gesturing to follow the escort through the dim castle hallways. You were slow and hesitant. This was it. But Tom helped you snap out of it. His fingers interlaced with yours, and together you walked down the corridors. This late in the evening, it was bound not to go unnoticed. The metal boots striking against the cold stone floors were unnerving at most. Your thoughts drifted to Josephine for a moment. She would understand.

Everything went fast. Your personal entourage waited outside in the shadows. A small cart packed with the necessary things you needed for the journey. The rest left behind. A new begin. It was exciting, yet slightly frightening.

A distant scream followed by a horn being blown. Chaos ensued. In the darkness you couldn't understand who was who. Which Guard belonged to whom. "That cart has to go with!" You order into the darkness. Left and right people run about. Bumping into each other. But the nonetheless, your orders where obeyed, the cart was towed with haste towards the gate. But in the corner of your eyes you spot guards running up the gatehouse. "Close the gate!" A familiar voice screamed from the top of their lungs. "Stop them whatever is necessary." Tom yanked on your arm, as you hear the metal chains and mechanism rolling into motion. Momentarily your numbed by rage of the persons standing here. On the balcony overlooking the courtyard. "You've forsaken us!" The voices echoed over the yard. Their shirl voices carrying far and wide. "Defiled our name!"

"We have to go!" Tom screamed, pulling you from your frozen spot again. Your parents stood there. Yelling and waving their arms around. Commanding unseen guards.

"This is all your doing!" The word spat from your mouth. Jabbing a finger at them. Your blood boiled from anger and rage. Adrenaline racing through your system, shaking your every limb. "You did this! All of this! You drove us apart! Forced us…! Like cattle!" Tom's hand catches your shoulder, trying to turn you away from the confrontation. "And now you get what you want." Screaming from the top of your lungs. "Don't think of-..."

But the sudden bolt that dug itself deep into the dirt in front of you waked you from your frenzied speech. Taking a few steps back, slowly into the arms of Tom. The realizations hit you that they were actually trying to kill you. You turn on your heel and run after Tom. The gate wasn't far now. It's large cast-iron fence slowly lumbering towards the floor. Screams and commands were given all around. To your surprise, in the chaos a guard stops right in front of you. It's difficult to make out faces exactly. But he wasn't intent on letting you pass as his longsword was unsheathed.

"In the order of-..."The man ordered with a deep voice. But the light in his eyes dimmed as his words were cut short by a blade. The man stumbled to one knee, his hands clamped to his throat. You see Tom sheath his sword again. "Move!" He yelled while pulling you along. And as you ran by, the sound of blood gurgling from the man's throat faded away with a heavy thud. Sprinting the last meters as the gate was halfway closed. Ducking underneath it, you both discard the cloaks. Both sharing a look of relief and happiness. Panting as you try to regain your breath. In the distance, you see small lights cast outwards through the castle windows. Increasing in number one by one. The inhabitants and their guards slowly waking from the commotions.

"That wasn't as planned." Holding you by his shoulder. "Are you alright?" Soft and caring eyes staring into yours. You force out a smile in response.

"I will be. Give me some time." In the distance you see a row of flickering lights, torches and oil lamps. It's rays of golden light illuminating your path to freedom. And as you came close, you inspect the column of carts and carriages waiting to depart. While Tom takes the final notes and plans through with the riders, you carefully put the present in the carriage. Awaiting Tom's arrival. To your relief, the gate of the castle had stayed put, and no more further noise was coming from it.

"Ready?" Tom kissing you on the cheek as you gazed mindlessly into the stary night. "A ship is waiting for us in the harbor." You nod walking along with him to the carriages. "Our adventure is finally starting." Tom beamed of happiness, putting an arm around you as you walked along the column.

Seated from within the carriage, you watch the vague contours of the castle in the distance. Small shimmering lights dying out one by one. Except for one. She probably knows by now. You can't help but sigh a little at the feeling of guilt, leaving her behind like this. "Will she be alright?" Tom leaned in, holding your shoulders as he rested his head onto it. Both looking at that shimmering light. "She seemed nice."

"She is… I just hope she finds someone better than me."

"Won't she get in trouble because of this?"

"No, I made sure of that. But I… I just… I wish I could have thanked her properly. She meant a lot to me." And as the carriage started rolling down the muddy roads. You feel a burden fall from your shoulder. Relieved. But also slightly conflicted, leaving her behind like this.

"I will make sure you can, darling." Kissing you softly down the back of your neck. "I will."

"There is one more thing." You turn to him. "I have something for you." The box standing opposite you moved slightly on the couch as you looked on. "One way or another, you would have gotten this." Tom's eyes sparkled with excitement as he watched you holding the box. "I'm just really happy that I'm able to give you… this… in person." In your hands you bring up this adorable black puppy, it's eyes all sleepy. It wasn't much older than two months. And it looked so fluffy. Small paws and beady little eyes. It looked almost the same as Tom's Tessa. Which he unfortunately lost. Getting it here was one thing, but keeping it a secret was thrice as problematic. Tom covered his gasping mouth, as his eyes started to water. "I know what Tessa meant to you." The welling tears rolled so easily down his cheeks. As a smile curved his lips again.

"I… I can't thank you enough." As he took the small puppy into his hands. Closing it into his embrace. "You made me the happiest man in the world (Y/N)."

"I feel the same, Tom." Closing in for a hug, puppy in between. The carriage taking you away from all the trouble in the world. Towards a new world. A new beginning. A new start.

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x male reader #tom holland x male!reader #tom holland x you #tom holland male!reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland imagine #tom holland #male!reader #male reader

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curiosity-killed · 4 years

Text

a bow for the bad decisions

canon-divergent AU from ep. 24 (on ao3)

The office still looks the same. In the space between blinks or in looking up from the desk, he keeps expecting to see Uncle Jiang behind the desk instead of Jiang Cheng. The dissonance leaves him a little unsteady, like he has to blink away the afterimage to see the present. He doesn’t mention it. No sense troubling shijie and Jiang Cheng with it. It’s not the only ghost lingering in his periphery anyway. “Yu Bujue can take over the upper level cultivation lessons,” Jiang Cheng says, “and Cao Xingtao is strong enough to take over the sword lessons.” He hates this, this calm delineation of his own weaknesses. These have been his duties since he was fifteen, since he passed half their own teachers and stepped fully into his role as Head Disciple. He’s supposed to be the one training their disciples, running them through their paces and building them back up stronger. He hunches a little into his shoulders, fiddling with Chenqing’s tassel. He doesn’t have room to object, he knows. He’s the one who told them how useless he was. They’re only doing what’s right, taking care of Yunmeng Jiang.

“Rumors are going to start if your da-shixiong is passing off all his work,” he points out.

This is why it would be easier if he just left. If he passed out of Lotus Pier in the night, he could just disappear into the shadows, let the resentment dissolve him into ash. Everyone the world around knows how inconsistent and capricious he is now. Sure, there’d be plenty to say about his own character, but at least it wouldn’t come back on Lotus Pier. At least they wouldn’t have to deal with his own shortcomings. “You said you had some ideas about defensive arrays,” Jiang Cheng says. “Defense is a higher priority than teaching a couple lessons.” Wei Wuxian stills, studying his brother. He can’t seriously be suggesting Wei Wuxian use demonic cultivation here in his own home. It was one thing during the war; Jiang Cheng has always been pragmatic, strategic in his own way. They were fighting a war and Wei Wuxian was a weapon, no matter how unsightly or unorthodox. No one looked too hard at the blood on a blade as long as it was pointed in the right direction. “You’d have demonic cultivation in Lotus Pier?” he asks carefully. Jiang Cheng catches his eye and shrugs, uncomfortable, as he looks away. “The old defenses weren’t strong enough. I promised I’d never let anyone take Lotus Pier again. So,” he says. He clears his throat. “Anyway, if our Head Disciple is the grandmaster of a whole cultivation path, it’d be dumb not to use it.” Something warm and unfamiliar uncurls in Wei Wuxian’s chest, more comforting than any embrace. He swallows and gives a short nod instead of saying any of the ridiculous things that press against the back of his throat. “Don’t do any dumb shit, I mean,” Jiang Cheng adds brusquely, “and tell me what you’re doing so it doesn’t backfire and kick your ass.” He laughs, and shakes his head. He’s had his ass thoroughly kicked by resentful energy, and he knows it would flatten Jiang Cheng if it wanted to. Still, he’s — touched by the trust. “Alright,” he agrees. “You could also teach some of the classes that don’t require as much spiritual energy,” shijie says. “The early classes on meditation and the talisman courses. It might help with rumors, and it could help stabilize your qi as well.” She sits primly on the third side of the desk, hands folded neatly in her lap and expression solemn. He forgets, some times, that she was there for all the war too. It’s easy to do when the marks of violence are so much starker on Jiang Cheng and the rest of them. He’s grown used to seeing his brother steeped in blood, grown familiar with the cold flat look in his eyes when he kills someone. Shijie isn’t half so obvious. She still smiles for them, still mothers them with that soft love she’s wielded for nearly as long as he remembers. Her scars are subtler, tucked in the tight frown she wears now as she contemplates their next steps and the quiet tears he’s caught her shedding a few times when she doesn’t realize he’s passing by. He and Jiang Cheng were out killing men on the frontline, but she followed in their aftermath, trying to hold together the wounded and dying. He wrinkles his nose, releasing Chenqing. Across the desk, Jiang Cheng’s expression is equally doubtful. “Meditation?” he says. “Shijie, I got kicked out of our meditation classes more than anyone in the history of Yunmeng Jiang.” A smile quirks at the corners of her lips, but the look she turns to him isn’t the fond exasperation he expects. There’s something knowing, something tinged with sadness, instead. “You meditated during the war,” she points out gently. This time, he’s the one to look away. He’s been trying to keep everything tucked away since he came back. It’s one thing for them to know he doesn’t have a golden core anymore, but he will not tell them about the Burial Mounds, about the resentful energy still spooled in the marrow of his bones. It lies quiescent and idle as long as his own emotions aren’t drawing on it, and he can stop that either through white-knuckled control or through the hazy buffer of liquor. He couldn’t afford to loosen his grip during the war, so he’d meditated to fine tune and strengthen his grip. Now, though — now he doesn’t want to have control over it. He doesn’t want to have to spend his every hour painfully conscious of the resentment that moves through him, alive and vicious and waiting. “Alright,” he agrees reluctantly. “Fine.” There’s a small quiet after his concession before shijie reaches out and gives his wrist a squeeze. He glances up to see her offering him a softer smile, reassurance. Releasing his wrist, she turns back to the papers laid out on Jiang Cheng’s desk. “Outside of Lotus Pier, there are still challenges from the other sects,” she points out. “Jin Guangshan’s frothing at the mouth to get that amulet,” Jiang Cheng agrees. Immediately, Wei Wuxian’s hackles rise, hand tightening around Chenqing’s neck. “He can’t have it,” he says flatly. “I’ll destroy it before he can touch it.” He doesn’t know how to explain the amulet to them. It and Chenqing were made of the yin iron sword just the same, but they’re wholly different beasts. Chenqing is his. She hums under his skin, a needling purr, hungry and ready at his call. The amulet is…different. Other. It’s more the sword than anything else and it still retains that presence. He can wield it, use it, but it’s borrowed power. It remembers what it was like to unmake him, and its teeth trace lovingly against the tender skin of his neck. It remembers their promise, their bargain. It waits. “Of course,” Jiang Cheng says, waving off his answer like it was obvious from the start. “But the fact remains the Jin Sect came out of the war nearly unscathed. They’re strong enough to take us down with one hand behind their back. And it’s not like you made a lot of friends in the war who’ll stand up to stop them.” Wei Wuxian purses his lips, annoyed that Jiang Cheng isn’t wrong. “We need alliances,” shijie says. Jiang Cheng sighs, presses a thumb into the ridge of his eye socket like he’s warding off a headache. Wei Wuxian sympathizes. He’d rather fight another legion of cultivators than wade through the tangled net of politics. “Lanling Jin’s already wrapped everything so well around them with Gusu Lan and Qinghe Nie,” Jiang Cheng says. “We should’ve petitioned for Wei Wuxian to be granted sworn brotherhood, too, I guess.” “Me?” Wei Wuxian asks, startled. “But you’re the sect leader, it would’ve made more sense for you.” The look Jiang Cheng shoots him is scathing. “Who took Nightless City?” he snaps back. “We weren’t winning the war till you came. Three months of skirmishes didn’t give us much in the way of victory.” He subsides at that, feeling strangely chastised by the praise. Shijie frowns, her lips pressing together in thought. “It won’t hold the political strength of a sworn allegiance,” she says, “but you were both close with Nie Huaisang before the war. Chifeng-zun has always cared deeply for him. Perhaps you could rekindle that friendship. He could visit Lotus Pier for a time.” Sourness rolls unsteady deep in stomach at the mention of Huaisang. The three of them spent childhood summers together, towed back and forth between Qinghe and Yunmeng depending on the year. He remembers dunking Jiang Cheng under the lake water and Huaisang squealing when they teamed up to drag him into the water. He remembers laying on his belly, feet waving in the air, beside Huaisang as they painted mountains and clouds and each other. He can’t remember the last time he lifted a brush to paint anything but talismans, to create anything but ruin. The last time he saw Huaisang, he’d flinched away, shuddered up a fearful barrier between him and his old childhood friend. Guilt is an uneasy squeeze under his ribs. “And a-Xian,” shijie says, turning to him, “you should talk to Lan Wangji.” He balks, recoiling. “Lan Zhan?” he demands. “What— why?” He hasn’t spoken to Lan Zhan since the war, since the fall of Nightless City. There’s no point to it anymore, he thinks and stubbornly ignores the way his heart twists. Shijie looks at him with endless patience. “I thought you two were close friends and confidants,” she says and doesn’t give him a chance to protest. “He was dedicated in helping you during the war.” “To exorcise the evil out me,” he scoffs, looking away. “So I should tell him everything so that the great Hanguang-jun can come save this feeble man from my own wickedness?” Bitterness scrapes across his tongue, sour speckling his throat. He once thought Lan Zhan was his equal, his match. Now, he thinks of his scowl, his voice coming hard and reproachful and all the times he said that he was committing evil, practicing wicked tricks that would leave him burnt and ruined. Telling him he has no core, that he is broken in a way no song of healing or clarity can remedy— No. Wei Wuxian knows he wouldn’t be able to stop there. If he let Lan Zhan close enough to tell him that, it would all spill out of him, all this bad blood clotted up in his heart. He would drain himself dry, and there would be nothing left when Lan Zhan inevitably recoiled, horrified and disgusted, and turned his back. He won’t do it. He can’t. He’s too selfish. He can’t have Lan Zhan’s friendship the way he once did, but he’s not strong enough to end it for Lan Zhan, to provide him this easy justification for walking away. He can’t bear to see those dark eyes wide with pity, not for him. He’d rather be hated than pitied. Rather bite back than open up his tender underbelly.

#mdzs #the untamed #cql #untamed fic #yunmeng sibs #my writing #the MUTUAL PINING BEGINS #this was a motherfucker to write #and i'm not wholly satisfied but whatever #we are not worrying about perfection here!#i say while smacking my own hypercritical tendencies over the head with a folding chair

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keyofshadows · 4 years

Text

This was ages ago, but I still love it. Part of the fight between the Refugees (well, some of them) and Maleficent in her dragon form on Destiny Islands. Ray ends up punting Jalen through a Light Corridor and into a Christmas tree because he was lacking common sense. (His wife was extremely grateful, gave Ray a framed twig as a thank you, lol.) Sora, Riku, and Kairi end up crashing the party.

A familiar light appeared from above, growing from a small orb to the more typical size of a portal within seconds. Without any warning, beams shot out from it, lighting up the night sky and lancing straight for the dragon - the tail, maw, wings, eyes, whatever it could reach was a fair target. She landed on her feet, the sound muffled by the noise of battle.

"Sorry to crash the party," she said, eyes scanning their surroundings, "but it kind of hurts, not being invited. Right here." A fist touched her chest, above her heart. Ray grinned. "You'd know all about that, eh, Maleficent?"

Seph dove around her jaws, occasionally only barely dodging(lost some feathers at one point) and striking out whenever he had a chance. He was uncertain about trying to go for a kill. She could very well be toying with them after all. It was a silly thought but, he hoped one of his feathers got in her eye.

He had to back off some when the beams shot out but, as soon as they were gone he was back on the attack.

Aria was considering how she wanted to approach. Carefully obviously. She didn't want Seph to get distracted by getting in trouble.

"Not gonna curse a baby, are you?" Not that there were any babies around to curse at the moment.

Watching the tail she got a bit closer and started casting. Nothing seemed to happen at first then a handful of bubbles started drifting towards the dragon. They grew a bit as they went and sparked a bit. They moved slow but, if Maleficent touched one it should give her a nasty shock. If Aria had put enough power into them anyway. Hopefully no one else would run into them. They were high enough that those that stuck to the ground wouldn't have a problem. At least Seph would know how best to avoid them since he was there when she was working on the spell.

Ray's sudden appearance made Jalen grin. He supposed Amy had something to do with it. Definitely good to have another experienced fighter on their side.

Things were happening faster now, which he was somewhat grateful for. He'd gotten to his feet and drawn his sword, ignoring the dull ache in his side. He'd worry about whether he'd cracked a rib or just bruised himself later. Watching out for Brendan, and Aria's little surprise, he headed for one of the dragon's front legs, intending to get a good stab in.

Her gaze landed on Jalen, grin instantly turning into a glare of fury the likes of which only Ray could muster. When he charged, so did she, but there was one vital difference.

Ray wasn't going after the dragon. No, she was going after Jalen.

With a single Thunder Step, she was ahead of him, looking back over her shoulder. Once he was close enough, she dropped, sweeping a leg at his feet to trip him up before he could go any further.

Song had scurried behind cover during Ray's dramatic entrance, and started casting. The first try was a failure before she even invoked the spell aloud. There simply no build up of power. The magic refused to listen.

She took a deep breath and tried again, focusing. This time the magic stirred. She had been experimenting with the feel of wild magic in the air and how to catch and tame it. It took longer than relying on a set spell to do all the work for you, and in most cases it didn't add enough of a power boost to make it worth while, but for her purposes it was useful, even necessary. This was anything but a set spell. it had to be cast from scratch, and that took precision.

On the third try, she almost put herself under the spell's predecessor, and only just managed to recognize the downward tug of a dream dive and abort it before she fell asleep.

The fourth try was exactly like the second try, and her frustration was getting the better of her. This was not working.

A rumble of a laugh spread from the dragon's throat. "I do apologize for the lack of an invitation. I had hoped the general invitation would reach all interested parties, but it appears I was mistaken. You seem to have made a wise choice."

Then her attention turned back in the direction of Seph, and she began to draw in a deep breath.

Seph was still somewhat aware of what was going on on the ground. When Maleficent started to draw in breath he was left with the choice to doge what he expected was coming or try to attack. As it was he didn't have many long range attacks that he thought would be effective (darkness or fire based attacks didn't seem like the best idea) and he wasn't about to get close enough to try to stab her in the mouth.

Well, there was a sort of energy beam he could do with his sword but, it wasn't an actual ability Sephiroth had outside of a non-Kingdom Hearts related video game and Seph was still working out some bugs. May as well give it a shot though. Half a moment of concentration followed by half a dozen quick slashes sent out five crescent moon shaped beams of energy. A couple were not as strong as he was aiming for and the last slash failed to produce one at all but, if the ones that appeared to come out right seemed to do damage he may try them again.

It might have been a good idea to move himself out of reach after that if there wasn't the chance she'd turn her attention to the people on the ground. He'd have to try to dodge at the last moment if his attack didn't interrupt hers.

Aria made her way closer to Song. Whether to try to help with whatever she seemed to be trying to do or to pull her out of harm's way if something happened while she was concentrating Aria wasn't sure.

Clearly not expecting Ray to trip him up, Jalen went down hard on his back, staring up at her in absolute disbelief. What did she think she was doing?

"Are you insane?"

Because that was a good question to be asking right now. He was lucky to have avoided falling on his sword.

"Amy sent me here! It's not like last time!"

He felt a little like a child, having to defend his presence at this fight. He scrambled to his feet, grabbing his sword. He wasn't going to use it on Ray, but he had a dragon to help deal with, and she wasn't going to stop him.

In the middle of the fight and the chaos and the flashes of magic, there comes another light, more pure than anything else anyone could have conjured. It lights up the horizon in a brief flash of white, silver, and blue, and is followed by a strange silence - the calm before the storm.

And then wind and fire explodes in the center of the island, sending sand and water blasting outwards from the epicenter. The dust hasn't even settled and the light has barely begun to die away when a voice, familiar but different somehow, cries out from the middle of the burning star and a wordless spell lashes out at the dragon, brilliant white vines of light entangling around its form. The darkness retreats away from the immediate area of the shore, coiling away into the sea and sand and sky.

Eventually, the light fades away and the tendrils of pale magic can be traced back to two spinning keyblades - Oblivion and Oathkeeper - floating next to a surprisingly familiar figure. It wouldn't do to call him a boy anymore - he has long since become a young man in the years since the battle against Xemnas and even Calum. It has been several years since he's been a part of this fight, and bringing it crashing back to where it all began clearly doesn't sit well with him.

Or it could be that the fight interrupted college finals.

"Hey guys!" Sora remarks cheerfully, immediately dropping into a fighting crouch. "Could you have picked a time that wasn't so close to Christmas to bring back the darkness? Or you know, when I finished my math final?"

Once the light and the dust begin to clear, the battlefield is shaken by the arrival of a new Darkness...and a new Light, each working in perfect harmony. Those who can sense it will sense that this is as far from another threat as Darkness could get - in fact, it's very familiar to most.

At first, there's only a brief flash of a bright purple aura, rushing once towards the dragon before vanishing. Then, a few seconds later, it repeats. Then it comes again, in a blinding, impossible rush of attacks, before a bright flash erupts in the center of the flurry.

And at the end of it is Riku, recovering from the impressive display almost casually, smirking belatedly in response to Sora's comment.

"It would figure, though. You guys never were great at timing things." he said, moving into a fighting stance and holding Way to Dawn at ready almost as an afterthought.

Following shortly after is the most brilliant of pure Light, warm and comforting and all too familiar as the other two had been. It forms in the distance, like a brightly shining star before shooting straight towards the dragons other side, ice forming where the attack hits.

Kairi drops daintily behind both her boys, Destiny's Embrace dropping into a defensive position before quirking a brow at their backs. "Weren't you two just complaining about being stuck inside studying though?" She teases, never once taking her eyes off the scene. "Maybe if we time it right, we can still make it back."

A few of Seph's attacks hit their mark, but Maleficent hardly seemed to notice them. Her attention was on the new arrivals. She did not seem surprised by there arrival, though one could not strictly say that she was pleased. It was simply more power upon the field in a battle that had been coming for a very long time.

She was more than she had been when last she faced the young Keybearer. The Darkness of the Cornerstone that had become her own and the fallen hearts of world's that had strengthened it . . . they had only been the beginning, and when the greatest Darkness of all had come into the stone, it had cracked. All that had been left as a vessel for that power was her. Her allies may have been gone, but the need for them had passed.

She turned towards her three greatest adversaries and breathed out death.

Seph opened a corridor before Maleficent released her attack at the new arrivals. His mostly darkness based attacks would not likely be much use here but, he didn't go far. He wanted to see how well the Key bearers handled the situation and of course he would resume his own attack if he felt they wouldn't end up tripping each other up.

Song was nearly ready to give up her plan and hope the new arrivals could handle it. She was certainly glad they'd got the message, even if they were a little late. And dear Light, the three of them were even more impressive than she'd remembered.

She tensed, preparing to rise and join the fight more directly, but something tugged at her mind. It wasn't right to just give up on her plan, was it? After all, it was her strongest point. What else could she offer that would come close to matching this, provided she could make it work?

With a fresh sense of determination that seemed to come from somewhere else, she settled herself again and tried one more time to cast the spell.

This time, she felt something even before she'd consciously called to the magic. There was a soft touch on the back of her hands, like fingertips, guiding, and she thought it was a cool breath that ruffled the hair around her ear.

'Like so.'

The voice came from inside her head as much as it did from behind her, and she wasn't startled to hear it, though she very well should have been. The tone was gentle and patient, like a good teacher, and through her, the presence summoned and shaped the magic. All Song could do was be dragged along as the spell itself was pulled from her memory and cast with her hands.

"Awakening," she heard herself whisper, and slowly... very slowly.... a blanket of foggy white began to spread from where she knelt.

"She may have sent you here," Ray said, "but you really should have thought this through a little better."

Grabbing Jalen's wrist an instant before he could charge again, she yanked him back as hard she could. Before he could even think of getting back up, he was pinned to the ground. She looked down at him, shaking her head in dismay.

"Honestly, Jalen. Your wife is pregnant, and you leave her home, alone, with three little kids, just so you can traipse off and fight a stupid dragon in the most idiotic way possible? Is it just me, or is there something slightly wrong with this picture?"

Without giving him a chance to answer, she sighed and dragged Jalen back to his feet by the front of his shirt. A portal opened behind him and Ray shoved him in none too gently. Pausing, she turned back with a smirk at the young Keybearers.

"About time you guys got here," she said teasingly. "You've got this one in the bag, right?"

Apparently, she didn't need or want an answer. She stepped through the Corridor without another word, heading straight back to Rainbow's End.

Amy was sitting on the couch in the living room, cuddling Larkin in her lap (what there was of it), with Eli and Ashlyn snuggled up on either side of her while she read them a story. The kids had started picking up on her nerves shortly after everyone had left, and she'd decided a nice, quiet distraction was a good idea. So, out came the books, and she'd let the kids pick. They'd already gone through Eli's choice, and she was just a few pages into the new book when her son tugged on her sleeve.

"Daddy's home soon?"

Amy bit her lip and turned the page before answering.

"I-"

She stopped abruptly as there was a bright flash of light, followed by a crash as something fell into the Christmas tree. She grabbed Larkin, and both Eli and Ashlyn cried out in surprise, clinging to her. A second later she realized the 'something' was actually a someone, as Jalen staggered away from where he'd fallen out of the Light Corridor into the tree. He was glaring at the still-open portal, no doubt waiting for Ray to step through. Amy simply stared in disbelief. She'd only asked Ray if she wanted to come help her babysit, but this was good too. Really good.

"...Daddy's home."

#kingdom hearts au #kingdom hearts #world refugees #old threads #roleplay logs #Amy used the dream magic used here from Song then taught her kids #and Eli goes on to teach his and so on #it's a tradition now #there's a school for dream mages too #fun times

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alvaar-aldaviir · 4 years

Text

Movement: Affrettando

Time Frame: Stormblood, 4.4 patch. Spoilers accordingly.

Notes: No real warnings required. Just an introspective piece on Alvaar’s thoughts through the Burn in the search for Alphinaud. A companion to Patching Up Wounds, and part of that lovely segment in the SB post patch where Alvaar and Alisaie's friendship strengthens

Cross-posted to Ao3.

It’s been some time since he’d last slipped the lease on his anger but there’s enough sand and wind and plenty enough teeth to warrant Alvaar’s rage in his solo flight through The Burn.

It’s not something that he’s proud of, but letting the rage consume him is far more preferable to the paralyzing fear that waits for him outside of it.

He remembers landing in the harsh sands with his yol, still hearing the faint echoes of Lord Hien on the winds calling them to seek shelter.

Shelter. Pah.

If they were afraid of a storm, then he would continue alone. He would scour all the Burn if he had to. He would march straight to Garlemald and rip this fake Zenos’ throat out a second time and torch his infernal body if he found so much as a hair on Alphinaud’s head had been damaged.

Like hell he was about to sit and wait when he was in danger…

Alisaie wasn’t here right now. He didn’t need to keep up the calm air of faith and be the steady rock between them. The level head else it would send them both weapons drawn straight to the Garlean border.

There were monsters. A few machines he thinks. A stretch of time running in metal corridors with the baleful cry of the sandstorm against the hull of a broken ship.

It was all cloaked in red, and he didn’t even try this time to reign it in with the single-minded purpose and anger coursing in his veins. Rage was preferable to the coiling knots of terror. Fighting better than an endless assault of potential death or capture or- His heart pounded a staccato as his bow creaked and hummed with every snap of the string. A lone lupine howl of his song wailing higher and more fearsome than the storm in his wake as he cut a bloody path through whatever moved to oppose him.

Alvaar was not afraid of wind and sands when they beckoned to his call. He was the eye of this storm and God’s be good and true if they did not find some sign Alphinaud was alright...

He would bury the empire under a mountain of fire and sand and ash. He’d ask penance from corpses and play a dirge even Nidhogg would envy.

There are white scales and teeth. A draconian form slipping through the fog and sands to harry him, slowing his frantic search. And its fire and snow and the bitter cold of Coerthas cutting against his skin as he settles into a familiar dance of death. Carving their path forward as he has always done for the youth that believed him capable of miracles. For the ally that had remained at his side and steadied him in his darkest moments…

The blade-point of the Halonic bow is sunk as far as it can reach behind the dragon’s skull. Severing nerves and tendons as Estinien had shown him while the white scaled beast shudders its last under his feet.

And the world is blue and bright and dazzling as he gasps for air in lungful’s that sting like sandpaper though the storm has since abated. And this white sandy hellscape is not Coerthas. There is no Estinien, no Alphinaud, no Ysayle trailing in his wake on their joint quest for peace...

There’s instead a firm hand at his wrist, someone that looks like his precious friend but who definitely is not. And it’s the part concern, part nervous look on Alisaie’s face that breaks through his fatigue and sends sound back through his ears. He can hear Y’shtola and Hien speaking in the background while Alisaie studies him worriedly, though he can’t yet comprehend what they’re saying through the fog of fatigue.

Her white magic doesn’t feel the same as her twins. It’s not calm and warm, but passionate and hot as it races through him sealing his wounds. It feels like a burn by comparison and the realities crash in around him in the wake of his last full rage since they’d rescued Rauhban as he puffs for air and notes he’s covered in splatters of blood. This is not a hundred previous battles with worried hands and voice at his side patching his wounds. The winding fluff of a carbuncle leaned against his shin while it’s master frets in that quiet but obvious way of his.

He’d thought he’d be done with feeling helpless. That after this bloody campaign and storm of steel, with a true turning point in the steady march of their enemy, maybe things could be different now. But no, he was seldom ever that lucky.

This world only ever saw fit to take what desperate things he struggled to hold on to…

Hands grip on his forearm carefully, a brief pause to pat firmly at his leather jacket and shake off some of the sand in a shower of white grit. He feels fingers threading with his own over the supple leather of his gloves, squeezing tight as his name sounds between them. Soft and gentle with concern.

His fingers hurt as he releases the white-knuckle grip on his bow to leave it standing blade down and unwavering where it’s still imbedded in flesh. The joints in his hand creaking as they’re finally allowed to move and flex a moment before he’s settling his hand over hers slowly.

He hurts. Inside and out. Muscles aching faintly from a berserker fury and pushing himself just a bit too hard. Heart clenched in a mute fear as the lack of news or evidence of Alphinaud’s presence cuts him up inside. Heavy with guilt that he’d let him go when all his instincts had screamed not to. That it was too dangerous no matter how right Alphinaud’s reasoning had been or how much Alvaar had seen the Arcanist had needed to stretch his wings and fly solo for his own dreams of peace.

He’d failed to protect him and the knowledge it might cost Alisaie her sibling hurt even more than the silent fear that the one person who probably knew him best was now well and truly missing and possibly even dead...

“Alvaar,” she tries again, shaking him just a bit and tone a little more forceful. Pulling his focus steadily from everything dark and haunted within him. Making his fingers twitch over hers as he starts to rouse back to the present.

“Alvaar.” Still quiet, but there’s a command in that tone and it breaks him free and has him meeting those too blue eyes again. Deep and vibrant as the midday sea.

“M’here,” he murmurs softly, voice dry and weak. “Still here... sorry. Sorry I didn’t... I couldn’t...” He looks about, unable to find better words before meeting her gaze again sadly.

The tight look of worry on her face holds for a moment before she dips her head and leans into his arm. Takes a moment to steady herself before lifting her gaze to his again, azure eyes burning with firm conviction. “We’ll find him. My brother may be foolish, but he knows better than to die on me. He’ll send word once he can. Come on, let’s go back and sort out a plan. ... You need a bath too; you look a wreck.”

It’s enough to make him blink, an ear flipping faintly in disbelief as she manages the faintest grin before pulling away and freeing the canteen from his belts. Taking off the cap she hands it to him with a no-nonsense air, pushing it at him again when he takes a second too long to claim it. “Come on. We’ll all be in trouble if you wear out your voice and can’t be your usual chatterbox self.”

It’s not the same as what he’s known. It’s not the dear friend he’s grown to rely on more than he wanted to admit, who’s seen him at his best and at his absolute worst.

But Alisaie doesn’t have to be. They’re different in many ways, but alike in more ways that matter. He’s no less committed to protecting her either, even as it seems she feels the same. So he rinses his teeth and takes a drink. Coughs and clears his throat before offering it back, staying put so she can cap it and hook it back to his belt while he yanks his bow free and shakes the dark blood off the spearhead. Clipping it onto his back, he settles a hand at the Red Mage’s shoulder and pulls her into his side for a brief one-armed hug.

“Whatever it takes. I’m with you,” he murmurs, lifting his head to meet Y’shtola’s thoughtful look while Hien politely studied the landscape instead. Neither miss the way Alisaie grips onto the hand still at her shoulder, but the Miqo’te doesn’t comment on it as she tilts her head.

“There’s naught left here for us. Let us away.”

#wol #warrior of light #alisaie #alisaie leveilleur #mentioned y'shtola #mentioned hien #writing #mywriting #oc #FFXIV #ff14 #final fantasy xiv #final fantasy 14 #Affrettando: Hurrying pressing onwards

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filmfanatic82 · 5 years

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AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapter 9

“I remember all of the things that I thought I wanted to be

So desperate to find a way out of my world and finally breathe

Right before my eyes, I saw, my heart it came to life

This ain’t easy, it’s not meant to be

Every story has its scars

When the pain cuts you deep

When the night keeps you from sleeping

Just look, and you will see

That I will be your remedy

When the world seems so cruel

And your heart makes you feel like a fool

I promise you will see

That I will be, I will be your remedy.”

-- Remedy, Adele

__________

“Jojo…” Penelope sighs as the brunette playfully nips at the tender flesh of her collarbone.

“What?” Josie responds, and Penelope feels a familiar smirk expand against her skin. “Don’t tell me you’re tapping out already?”

“No. Of course not,” Penelope scoffs in a less than convincing voice. “I can go another twenty rounds.”

“Uh-huh.” Josie leaves one last mark upon Penelope’s collarbone and then nuzzles herself into the raven-haired girl’s body. Penelope can’t help but smile as she wraps her arms around Josie and pulls her even closer.

“You don’t believe me?”

Josie lets a light chuckle slip out. She buries her head even further into the crux of Penelope’s neck and mumbles an incoherent response.

“I’m going to take that as a yes.” Penelope reaches up and begins to play with a loose strand of Josie’s chocolate brown locks as a strange sense of calmness washes over her.

God, how she has forgotten how good this can feel.

Laying in bed naked, bodies tangled up like headphone cords, merely just existing in each other’s presence. No distractions nor people to get in the way. Or even the looming threats to what’s to come.

Nothing at all except for the two of them.

Penelope and Josie.

Penelope feels Josie inhale deeply, tickling her skin as she does. “Are you smelling me?”

Josie inhales again and then nods sheepishly. “Maybe…”

“Let me guess… I smell like cheap whiskey and lake water?”

“No. You smell like… I don’t know. You smell different than I remember.”

“Different?”

“Yeah. Not a bad different… But just different.”

“Okay,” Penelope laughs.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just that’s the third time you’ve said that to me in the last two days.”

“It’s true,” Josie replies, causing Penelope to quirk a brow. “But in a good way. It’s like you’re more mature or something.”

“So, you’re saying I was childish before?”

“No… Ugh. I should’ve never opened my mouth.” Josie buries her head once again in the crook of Penelope’s neck, and Penelope lets out another laugh.

“Hey,” Penelope gently tucks her fingers under Josie’s chin, lifting her head up until they are eye to eye. “It’s okay. I get what you’re saying.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. Of course, I do. The whole new leaf thing wasn’t just lip service. I really meant it. I’ve been working on things over the last few ye… months.”

“Really?”

Penelope nods as her smile further softens. “Really.”

“What kind of things?” Josie asks with genuine interest as she rolls her body over and props herself up with her elbow.

“All kinds.” Penelope matches Josie’s position and props herself up on her elbow as well so that they are lying face to face. “I’ve been working on my spells a lot. Mainly strengthening my overall effectiveness, but also my ability to control the magic once I cast it as well.”

“You can control it?”

“Sometimes… It takes a great deal of concentration,” Penelope replies. “Here. I’ll show you.”

Penelope fixates in across the room on a stack of papers sitting on top of her desk. She whispers an indecipherable phrase under her breath and then flicks her finger out towards the stack.

A single piece of paper floats up into the air and begins to slowly fold itself into an origami crane.

Wordlessly, Penelope flicks her fingers to the left, and the paper instantly freezes mid-fold. “Okay. Now watch.”

Penelope doubles down her concentration on the piece of paper and then starts to move her fingers slowly in a counter-clockwise pattern. As she does, the paper begins to unfold itself, step by step, until it is back to its original form. It then floats back down onto the stack, as if it had never been touched at all.

Penelope breaks her gaze and looks back at Josie, who’s wearing a slightly confused expression upon her face.

“Okay… So… You folded it and then unfolded--”

“Paper didn’t unfold,” Penelope cuts her off as a bit of an all-knowing smirk slides across her lips.

“You did. I saw it.”

“No. You didn’t.”

“Pen, I did too. I just watched it with my own two eyes.”

Penelope’s smirk widens. “It wasn’t the paper, Jojo. It was time.”

“What?”

“I reversed time.”

“Wait…” Josie says as Penelope’s words start to sink in. “Time as in… Time itself?”

“Yup. I reserved time on the paper. But only for like two seconds so that it would go back to its original position. This way, to the untrained eye, it simply looks like I casted a secondary spell on it.”

Josie glances over at the stack of papers as her forehead start to crinkle with the tell-tale signs of utter bewilderment. “How…”

“It takes some advance level magic and a shit ton of concentration. But once you get the hang of it, it isn’t that much harder than casting something like a ‘regrowth’ spell… Or one of those protection charms that Dr. Waters loves to teach.”

“And you learned this all by yourself? In just a few months?”

Penelope internally cringes at these questions.

No. Of course, she hadn’t. It had taken a good two years of almost daily practice, along with countless intense meditation sessions, to master the art of time manipulation. And even then, when she finally got the hang of it, it still took yet another year until she was able to perform it on the fly. Or as Caroline loved to call it… under extreme duress.

It had been the number one spell that Caroline had insisted on both Penelope and Hope mastering. And although, at first, Penelope hadn’t understood why over time, it quickly became the most valuable spell within her entire arsenal.

In fact, if it hadn’t been for that one single spell, there would have been no stopping the knife that almost took Penelope’s life the night her and Hope faced off against--

“Pen?” The sound of Josie’s voice pulls Penelope back into the moment.

“Sorry. Got lost in thought,” Penelope says as her fingers gently trace the patch of skin where the thin, white scar should reside. “I learned it from an old family friend. It’s a popular spell within my coven. Super useful in the defensive magic department. I can teach you if you want to learn. Fair warning, though, it requires a whole lot of training.”

“Like one on one training?” Josie asks, unable to hide the suggestive smile that’s starting to form upon her face.

“Yeah,” Penelope laughs in response and then runs her hand through her hair, tucking a loose strand or two behind her ears in the process. “Would you be okay with that? Cause if not, I can always teach it to you in more of a group-like set--”

“Pen. Stop.” Josie leans forward and plants a reassuring kiss on Penelope’s lips, causing the raven-haired girl to immediately relax. “I would love that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Josie says with a nod and then, without another word, scoots her body back towards Penelope until there’s no space left between them. Penelope returns the gesture with a tender kiss on the top of Josie’s head. She wraps her arms once again around the brunette and is instantly overtaken by the sheer and utter warm of it all.

“I would love that too,” Penelope whispers back with a sigh of content. “I really would.”

__________

A couple more hours later and Josie convinces Penelope that they need to at least make an appearance in the dining hall for dinner or else someone-- and by someone, she means Lizzie-- will come looking for them. Penelope begrudgingly agrees but not before making sure to prolong their time together for as long as she humanly can with an additional encore performance or two.

It might be overkill, but given the looming circumstances just around the corner, Penelope doesn’t care too much.

Every moment matters.

Even the seemingly trivial ones.

It’s one of the many “Caroline-isms” that has managed to stick with Penelope throughout the years. And one that has time and time again proven itself to be more than true.

Chance encounters and brief exchanges filled with seemingly unimportant words. All presenting themselves at the time as a throwaway moment. But it’s only after when time gives away to reflection, do their real truths rise to the surface.

And the last six years of Penelope’s life has been nothing more than these moments. One after the next. So much so, that she’s learned to take the time-- even if there isn’t any spare time to take-- to evaluate each and every interaction she has.

Every last moment.

Because that’s just it. That moment could possibly-- or with her luck is more than likely-- be the last one of its kind.

“Hey! Look! They are alive,” MG calls out to Penelope and Josie as they make their way through the crowded dining hall towards the table that Hope, MG, and Lizzie are sitting at. The sight of extra-wide, toothy grin causes Penelope to want to instantly turn around and retreat back into the safe confines of her dorm room once again, but then she feels Josie ever-so-gently take hold of her hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

“You ready?” Josie whispers under her breath to Penelope.

“Do we have a choice?” Penelope responds in a half-joke.

“We can nix dinner and go back to your room instead. My dad always makes sure that there are leftovers available in the student fridge on Sunday evenings for people who miss out on dinner. Maybe we could--”

“No,” Penelope cuts Josie off with an exhale. “We’re already here. Might as well bite the bullet and face the inquisition.”

Josie squeezes Penelope’s hand once again for added measure and then proceeds to guide the rest of the way towards the table.

“We were just about to draw straws on who should go get you two. Glad you surfaced on your own,” Hope says as Josie and Penelope sit down across from one another. “Have a good Sunday?”

“Amazingly good,” Josie responds without missing a beat, and Lizzie immediately pretends to gag on the bite of her meatloaf.

“Ugh. No. Not happening.” Lizzie lets her fork clang down against her plate and looks over at Josie with a slightly disapproving stare. “Can we please hold off on anything remotely related to your return to the dark side until after dinner? Some of us are trying to eat here.”

“Salty much?” Penelope asks as she leans over and steals a french fry off of Hope’s plate.

“Evil much?” Lizzie fires back with an underlying sting of invisible venom that puts the entire table on edge. Sets of eyes discretely ping-pong between Lizzie and Penelope, all accompanied by shared looks of concern.

Penelope knows that she’s playing with fire but can’t seem to help herself. The allure of irking the blonde-haired siphoner is just too irresistible.

“Whatever you say…” Penelope pauses, taking a moment to fully lock eyes with Lizzie. She pops another french fry into her mouth and then produces one of her signatures smirks. “Liz.”

The chain reaction is instantaneous. Hope chokes mid-sip of water. Josie and MG quirk their heads in union with a shared look of confusion. And Lizzie…

Lizzie narrows her icy blue eyes in on Penelope. “What did you call me?”

“What? I called you Liz.” Penelope replies with a casual shrug in between mouthfuls of fries. “It’s just a nickname. Like you call me Satan.”

“Park…” Hope mutters under her breath rapidly growing more concerned by the minute.

“How do you know?” Lizzie questions too focused on Penelope to notice anything else.

“Know what?”

“Lizzie, it’s a coincidence. That’s all,” Josie chimes in.

“No. Nothing is just a coincidence when it comes to the Dark Lord,” Lizzie snaps, whipping her attention over to Josie. “She called me Liz twice now. She knows.”

“Know what?” MG asks.

“Hey. I’ve got an idea…” Hope says, but it falls on deaf ears. All eyes are solely on Lizzie.

“Yeah. What am I supposed to know?” Penelope questions with a sudden genuine quality to her voice.

In all honesty, Penelope doesn’t fully know why Lizzie up and made the switch over to Liz. She had guessed at the time it was done to further distance herself from the reputation that her twin sister was rapidly gaining throughout the supernatural community, but maybe she had been wrong.

Maybe there had been a more profound meaning…

Josie waits for a moment, looking at Lizzie to answer, but is only met with an intense scowl in return. She lets out a sigh in annoyance and turns back towards the rest of the table. “We went to this carnival once when we were twelve and got our futures read by some tarot card reader. The whole experience was super strange. The woman kept calling Lizzie ‘Liz’ even though we corrected her like a million and one times and going on and on about how the name was tied to Lizzie’s destiny. The sooner she embraced it, the better off things would be. Or something like that.”

“Something like that? Josie, the woman’s exact words were ‘pay attention to those that choose to call you Liz. For those are the ones who have already seen where your path will take you’. And now look who’s calling me Liz? Satan herself. Again, not a coincidence. She knows something,” Lizzie replies.

Penelope suddenly finds herself struggling to swallow down her current bite of fries. She spots Hope’s eyes slightly widen as well at the revelation but tries not to focus in on it too much.

Shit.

She’s gone too far.

“That’s one cryptic ass fortune to give a twelve-year-old,” MG comments.

“Oh, that wasn’t even part of my fortune. This all happened before my reading even began,” Lizzie responds. “The woman then proceeded to ramble on for like twenty minutes about how my soulmate would have amber color eyes, a strong liking for extra raw steaks, and wears a leather jacket.”

Hope does a full-on spit take, spraying a mist of water all over her tray of food, grabbing the attention of the table.

“You okay?” Josie asks Hope in earnest.

“Yeah,” Penelope replies, unable to contain her amusement. “You alright, Mikaelson?”

“Yup.” Hope wipes off her face and tries to re-compose herself. “Never better.”

“Anyway… As Josie said, the whole experience was super odd, to say the least. So clearly, I’ve got my reasons to be extra suspicious of anyone who suddenly chooses to up and call me Liz.”

“I get that,” MG nods. “But think Josie’s right on this one. It’s Penelope. Not some mysterious person who you just met. How could she know the future?”

“Who wants to take a road trip to New Orleans?” Hope blurts out, causing a round of instant whiplash at the table.

“What?” Lizzie asks.

“New Orleans. Who wants to go with me?”

“Now?” Josie follows up, now thoroughly confused.

“No. Not now. But how about tomorrow? My Aunt Freya mentioned that there’s this massive supernatural gathering going on right now in New Orlean that only happens once every 200 years and invited me to come down to see it. So I was thinking about skipping out of classes for a few days to go visit them… Penelope’s already agreed to come,” Hope explains and then discretely shoots Penelope a ‘please for the love of god play along’ look.

“You did?”

“Yeah,” Penelope says with a lingering bit of uncertainty to her voice. “Why not? Thought it could be fun.”

“Count me in,” MG responds.

“Me too.” Josie flashes Penelope an excited smile and Penelope instantly melt at the sight.

“Excuse me?” Lizzie stares at Josie in shock.

“Oh c’mon, Lizzie. You love road trips.”

“Pre-planned road trips, yes. Impromptu, let’s skip school for a few days to travel halfway across the country for some random witch gathering? Not so much. Besides, what about dad?”

“He left this morning for New York. I saw him as he was leaving for the airport. Apparently, he got a call from mom late last night about something that she needs him to check out and will be gone until Friday. So there’s no need to worry about him noticing we’re not here.”

“But--”

“Please?” Hope cuts in with a raw honesty that immediately throws Lizzie for a loop.

Lizzie slowly turns to face Hope as her eyes scan the tribrid’s face for any sort of inkling that she’s being punked. “You want me to go?”

Hope nods and offers up a timid smile in return.

“Oh…” Lizzie responds, and Penelope watches as the blonde-haired siphoner’s body language makes a dramatic shift from tense and hostile to nothing more than a mush pile of emotions. “Then, I guess I could tag along.”

Penelope catches Josie’s eyes, and the two exchange a small but all-knowing smile as well.

“Yes!” MG exclaims. “So when do we get the hell outta dodge?”

“How about first thing in the morning? Right after breakfast? The front entrance is always dead around that time since everyone is trying to get to class. We could totally slip out unnoticed,” Josie suggests.

“What about transportation? We can’t just magically teleport ourselves to New Orleans?” Lizzie questions.

“Let me take care of that one,” MG says in between monstrous bites of his cheeseburger. “Kaleb owes me a favor or two.”

“Works for me,” Hope replies. “Park?”

“Sounds like a plan.” And as soon as the words leave Penelope’s mouth, an eerie sense of calmness washes over her.

There’s a plan.

Maybe it’s half-baked-- and that’s if she’s being generous-- but a plan nonetheless. And it involves them getting as far away from the Salvatore School as humanly possible.

Penelope lets out a slight sigh of relief and then once again catches an all too familiar set of chocolate brown eyes staring at her longingly from across the table at her. She flashes Josie, a playful smirk accompanied by one of her signature eyebrow shrugs, and like clockwork, a noticeable blush spreads like wildfire across the brunette’s cheeks.

Just maybe there’s still hope for them after all.

Maybe…

#posie #josie x penelope #josie saltzman #penelope park #hope mikaelson #lizzie saltzman #legacies #wlw #ao3 #fanfic

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shanastoryteller · 6 years

Text

she is an angel’s daughter

can we just. can we talk about how clary called for ithuriel, and he came, and she averted her eyes and said, scared, that she understood if he was angry at her, that she understood if he found her presumptuous and rude. she stood in front of him prepared that he might lash out and hurt her, or worse.

and ithuriel sighed and said, soft, that she had nothing to worry about. he answered her questions, came when she called when he didn’t have to, and – and i know i’ve talked about this before, but i think angles like clary fairchild, clarissa morgenstern, i think they look at her and see something of themselves – maybe not all their good traits, but their traits none the less.

and it got me thinking – what about a world where clary is more, is different, is the daughter of an angel? ithuriel considers her his in a way didn’t even know he was capable of. jace has angel blood too, but ithuriel doesn’t send him visions, doesn’t share forgotten runes with him, doesn’t call out and answers his calls in return. that is reserved for clary alone.

so valentine traps ithuriel and takes his blood to give to jace’s mother, right, and that does something, changes things of course. but it’s blood forcibly taken. but the second time valentine comes to take his blood for an unborn child, for his unborn child, well – ithuriel knows that valentine’s eldest child was cursed with the blood of a great demon, willingly given. so ithuriel, who’s bound and powerless in so many ways, does this: when valentine takes his blood, he doesn’t fight, he doesn’t resent, he holds no anger in his heart. valentine doesn’t notice the difference, but ithuriel gives his blood freely to the child growing under jocelyn’s heart, and it matters.

his consent changes it, his will changes it. his blood in her veins is different than it is in the other child’s. with her, it’s a claim, a mark of power, it’s something more and different and something that hasn’t been done in a long, long time.

clary shines just a little brighter than all those around her, because she’s an angel’s daughter, because ithuriel has claimed her, because she’s no normal girl, will not even be a normal shadowhunter.

she grows up, ignorant just like before, but it’s hard. angels notice her, and clary so often sees things that aren’t there, even more than a normal shadowhunter child. other angels take notice of her, of this little human girl who shines like she’s one of them, and clary could walk blind into traffic and never get hit, because she has angels watching her, she really does have guardian angels in a way that no one else does. they can’t find ithuriel, can’t free him because he’s so well hidden. but ithuriel’s mark is on this girl, his blood is in this girl, and she is someone they can protect.

they disapprove of jocelyn taking clary’s memories, but they do not interfere. magnus feels that she is different, but chalks it up to her being the daughter of two powerful shadowhunters, and doesn’t think on it further.

when clary gets pulled into the shadow world, there’s a reason everyone feels drawn to her, a reason so many people can’t help but listen to her and believe in her. she speaks with divine purpose, pulls at the heart strings of shadowhunter and downworlder alike. i've talked about clary’s hard line with morality combined with her ability to forgive almost any transgression against her before, and it should be contradictory, but it isn’t, it makes perfect sense when she’s an angel’s daughter, when she shares their strange almost-but-not-quite hypocritical world view. clary doesn’t revere angels. she understands them too well.

when runes come to her, when ithuriel sends her runes, they’re ones no one else could use. other shadowhunters can’t use the runes that clary uses, she alone can wield them – because they are angelic runes, ones only someone with angel blood can wield. jace is affected by his angel blood, of course, but it’s not that overt, that powerful. it’s side affects, things that couldn’t be helped. but with clary she was chosen and she is loved and ithuriel’s blood in her veins means something different entirely.

things progress as normal, it doesn’t change much or become relevant, until – she and isabelle go and visit the iron sisters. isabelle thinks she has demon blood still, and something in clary rankles at the insinuation, at the idea of it. she goes into the water, and the iron sisters test to see if she’s pure, if she’s angelic enough to be let inside the iron gates.

she doesn’t just glow.

clary shines so brightly they have to avert their eyes, for the iron sisters it almost feels like when they summon an angel, the force of clary’s presence in the pool.

clary doesn’t know any better, doesn’t see what’s wrong, but everyone looks at her differently. after, the iron sisters support clary unquestioningly, they don’t know exactly what she is, but she’s not like the rest of them. they don’t make a show of it, don’t alert the clave to their changed allegiances. but the iron sisters know, they’ve decided, then when clary calls for them, they will answer. whether she needs weapons or warriors or advice, the iron sisters will be there. their first loyalty is to angels, not the clave, so now their first loyalty is to her.

so when ithuriel calls out to clary, this girl he’s had a connection to her whole life but has never even seen? she does the same thing, she doesn’t know him or what she is to him, but he’s an angel so she risks everything to free him. and jace is there, and helps and somehow it gets across that jace doesn’t have demon blood, he has angel blood too. but it’s not the same as clary, because then ithuriel raises his cracked and bleeding hands to clary’s face, and in her and around her all once she hears, my child, my daughter, oh how you’ve grown.

and clary is crying, because ithuriel loves her. valentine’s offer of paternal love had almost been appealing, a parent to hold on to after her mother’s death, but now – she knows the warm light of ithuriel’s affections, and she clings to his arms and presses her forehead against his and whispers, “go” and “be safe” and “thank you”

jace is freaking out, because she’s touching an angel, is being embraced by an angel, and what is clary, exactly? his touch should be burning, it should be too much for a mortal to stand now that he’s out of those power suppressing chains. ithuriel goes free, and clary – settles, somewhat. she knows who she is, she knows what she is, all those little things her whole life that never made sense, both as a mundane and a shadowhunter, suddenly do. she’s not valentine’s daughter, not really. she’s ithuriel’s.

jace doesn’t tell anyone what he saw, not really, he says what happened but he doesn’t mention ithuriel’s touch, how clary glowed while she stood in front of the angel. he goes to alec’s room late at night and whispers under the cover of darkness what he thinks clary is, wide eyed and afraid, because he thought he wasn’t good enough for clary before, and now this? alec doesn’t quite believe him, says maybe clary just has more angel blood than jace does, but – he can’t explain it, the way ithuriel had looked at clary.

she doesn’t say anything, because what will it prove, what will it change? nothing at all. clary doesn’t quite understand what angels mean to shadowhunters, not yet. they’ve always seemed too familiar to her for her to worship them.

she hears ithuriel now, at the corner of her mind sometimes, a soft glowing presence that strengthens as he does. clary fairchild shines brighter than any mortal, and somehow no one seems notice. they call her charismatic, charming, a nuisance, a silly girl who will lead them to war. they call her many things, but no one can deny one thing: she is certainly compelling.

her light rune isn’t sunlight, it’s holy light, she is a girl who wields heaven’s light like a sword, and people can’t help but be drawn to her. she is young, and imperfect, but she is shining.

they’re tricked into the institute with the soul sword, the sword of truth, and clary has been trying so hard to avoid it that she hasn’t been listening to it. it’s a mortal instrument, and there she is, half angel, half shadowhunter, and it’s calling out to her, it’s whispering things out to her that she wishes she’d heard before.

clary runs across the battle, to the center of the institute, and picks up the sword. her angelic touch changes it, charges it, and it becomes a weapon of mass destruction in her hands. everyone freezes, and jace scream at her, but clary only smiles and raises the sword and calls out, “father!”

and for a moment valentine thinks all his dreams have come true, that his daughter is on his side and there for him. but he’s not clary’s father.

ithuriel is.

the whole institute shakes with power, and everyone is driven to their knees by a force they can’t explain. clary is there holding the soul sword, and everyone thinks this is the end, the downworlders prepare themselves for death at hands of the girl they thought cared about them.

but it’s not the soul sword.

ithuriel appears, an angel appears within the institute, and the shadowhunters look on in awe, in disbelief. he is full of light, and had a cloak of power around him. “clary,” he says, and he’s soft, he’s smiling.

she doesn’t hesitate, she runs forward, stops just a few inches from him. he’s the one that closes the space between them, leans down to press a tender kiss to her forehead. she steps back, satisfied, and holds up the sword. “this is too dangerous. we don’t need it anymore – there are too many downworlders now, too many for us to protect from the effects of this sword. you have to get rid of it.”

ithuriel cups the side of clary’s face, rubbing a thumb against her cheek, and says, “if that is your desire, my child, then act. you have within you all the power you need.”

he’s gone in the next moment, and she doesn’t understand, but then a rune comes to mind, one she’s never used before. she takes out her stele and carves it into the sword, does what a normal shadowhunter wouldn’t be able to do, and alters a mortal instrument with a single rune.

“no!” valentine croaks out, and clary glances at him, irritated, and twists and turns and lets the blade fly.

the sword hits true. it slides through valentine’s chest, straight through his heart. he’s dead before he hits the ground. the downworlders watching this girl, this shadowhunter, this angel’s daughter, use the sword that was meant to kill them to kill their greatest enemy, watches her kill her birth father to keep them safe.

clary has made a stand, has done more than make a spark, has started a revolution that’s already burning bright.

the angel’s daughter stands with the downworld, with fairness, with equality, with justice. the angel’s daughter stands tall, and she will not bend.

#fandom ficcery #shadowhunters #clary fairchild #clary fray #clarissa morgenstern #ithuriel #i hope they didn't actually kill ithuriel because if so l a m e #there was so much potential there #mmmm i just like the idea of ithuriel and clary being best buds #that's a seperate fic #one where ithuriel doesn't see clary as his daughter #but one where they basically have eachother on speed dial and shit talk and hang out #and everyones like ????#you can't just chill with an angel wtf #and clary does it anyway because she doesn't give a fuck

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cloudwomensquarterly · 5 years

Text

Zoriada and Marisol from SanTana’s Fairy Tales Written By Sarah Raphael Garcia

The following story appears in SanTana's Fairy Tales and is reprinted with permission from Raspa Magazine.

Zoriada and Marisol

I am an enchanted woman named Zoraida.

But of course you already know my name. You knew me when I was alive.

In this life, I reign from far, far above the castles and queens. I travel by whispers, wishes upon the North Star and hushed weeps. Just like you called upon me in midst of bloody murmurs, wishing for death to ease the pain. Some call me death, others the Godmother of life.

In my last life I too thought it was my fate to die as a woman on a night like tonight. But death came just too soon, leaving me trapped between other’s lives and my own.

I was an unfamiliar name in a city filled with dreamers. I was strong like the palm trees swaying in the Santa Ana winds and lyrical as the parrots living under the green, mama bird-like wings of the Pacific Coast palm trees. My legs, long and silky, danced to their own melody without any awkward stumbling or mispronounced schemes.

Fortunes—I had none.

My purse was of more value than the coins clinking in its deep corners and melancholy was my lover leading me into the bitter sea. Still, I lugged my stitched heart in weary arms— leaving it exposed to everyone I passed on the dark, twisted streets.

I was inspiring, so you kept saying when you spoke of me. But now, I appear in reflections, cupped hands and wishes.

For as long as I could remember, I wanted to twirl my long hair between china-red fingertips and blush when I cupped my breasts in front of the standing mirror. I wanted a man to caress my curves, from my hips to my puckered lips. But to most, my type of love was forbidden—cursed by society like the familiar tragedy of Romeo and Juliet.

Love—I thought I would find it.

But when my limp body was found, winded and pale as the ocean’s spume, it cast a shadow over those close to my heart, leaving only the jagged sounds of shattered dreams and a person by another name—the name I was given at birth, not the real me.

Before I tell you what is to become of you, please keep breathing. As painful as it might be, I plead for you to keep breathing—at the end I will ask for your wish, I promise you that.

When I was at my last breath, I regretted believing someone would actually love me and wished for death. You think you prefer not feeling anything but the truth is your despair has summoned my presence—because we are the same. Like you, I too was first called a boy at birth. A boy who stared at other boys and envied the red ribbons the girls wore in their long wavy hair. It was a girl who helped me see who I really was.

“I like your eyelashes. You would make a pretty girl.” She was ten like me, and wore an eyelet dress with matching socks.

“But I’m a boy.” I was dressed in jeans and plain t-shirt my mother picked out for me.

“Those boys are mean to you. Do you want to pretend to be a girl and play with me?” I still remember her, she was the first to accept me.

Before I could fully see beyond my own skin and feel the moths flutter wildly in my heart.

But really it could have been anyone thereafter: my mother, my only sister, my first lover—all paid me a compliment about my soft skin, perfect lips and almond shaped eyes. It wasn’t until many years later my hair became my true beauty.

Back then my name was Gabriel. My mother said she chose my name because I was her little angel. I wonder what all their birth names were before I helped them die. I learned to never ask. The names they give us do not affect who really are.

Here, let move your hair out of your eyes. Your curls are such a pretty shade of caramel, perfect with your brown skin. It saddens me to see it fading. Doesn’t the lavender oil feel good on your temples? I used to rub it on myself after a “bad” day. I should’ve taught you more when I was alive.

My mother taught me about the healing powers of the oils as a boy. I think my mother knew then it would be the only thing she could pass on to me to heal myself. Lavender is for balancing, soothing, normalizing, calming, relaxing, and healing. Ginger for warming, strengthening, anchoring. And oregano oil is invigorating, purifying and uplifting. But my favorite of all is jasmine—it induces calmness, relaxation, sensuality, and romance. My mother often reminded me of the healing pur- poses of all the oils, even when I jerked away angrily at fifteen because I told her she should’ve taught me to fight instead.

I added some jasmine on your wrists. You will be able to smell it later, should you choose to live.

I remember the first time I was beaten by the neighborhood boys. They never liked me. They called me names my mother would never approve of, “Joto,” “Faggot,” and “Maricón.” I never told my mother why they chased me down the alley. I just told her they were boys from another neighborhood. That’s when my mother started chanting all the remedies. Often, on the day after applying oils on my face and limbs, my mother gave me a cup of ginger and arnica tea with breakfast. She also gave me a lemon lightly covered with honey, in case the tea left a bad taste in my mouth. Lemon is uplifting, refreshing, cheering. I say honey is just as sweet as a rose at your nose tip and solely to indulge. My mother would say it was anti-inflammatory, to help with the bruises. Should you decide to get up, I left some honey and lemon on your table, all you have to do is boil water. I do hope you choose to get up but I will understand if you don’t.

At nineteen, I ran into my mother’s house blubbering tears. When she asked what happened. I spat the words out as if she had always known. I didn’t try to ease her into my real identity or even try to confront her with it. She saw me in pain and did what came natural to her.

“Mijo, who hurt you? Come here, come here, let your mama hold you.”

“Mama, it hurts so much.”

“Where mijo, show me where. I will get my oils.” “No, don’t go. Mama, he used me, he used me. He told me he loved me. And I just gave myself to him.” Instantly, my mother dropped her arms. I looked at her and called for her, “Mama?” She just stared at me without any words. I knew then it would be hard for her to understand. I knew then everything would be harder and I would have to learn to heal myself. And although my mother never asked me to leave her home, I felt it was necessary, out of respect. On my last day, she burnt sage around my body before I walked out the door. But I couldn’t continue with the silence, it was like sucking on a lemon with cracked lips.

I’m sure you have a similar story. We all do. I don’t ever assume mine is the worst. At the time I thought it was best we didn’t share our pasts, but now I wish I could’ve told you more when I was alive. We all feel pain differently, some of us know how to heal ourselves, others don’t know anything else but pain.

Look how they left you, how did you even make it into the apartment? And your beautiful dress, did they really have to rip it in three places? You are such a beautiful woman, skin softer than all I have ever felt.

I see the sewing machine in the corner, a new fabric hanging from the needle. You know, that’s how I managed to pay for my own change.

I see myself now reduced to a skeleton in a hand stitched cloak. I have shed all the layers of flesh, skin and gender. You’ll look like this when you’re dead too. How trivial our differences become, between lives. In my last life, I did succeed in becoming a woman, the only part of me you knew. We are a lot alike. We both hungered to be accepted, I succumbed to the death of it. You want to stop the pain; I now regret wishing it away.

But I didn’t know I was coming to heal you.

I only realized you were calling for death when I entered this apartment.

When I first moved out of my mother’s home I found myself wandering through days in no particular direction. I lived in this same small apartment, making the living room my stage, such as you did too. The man who took me in was not a lover. Sometimes he would say he found me in his own reflection, like a walking mirror reassuring his presence; other times, he’d say I found him, like an abandoned newborn fawn wobbles towards a horse for comfort. Once he claimed he saved me, without saying from what. But now I know, his guidance prolonged my life to be what I am now.

I remember very little of the first year out of my mother’s home. But I do recall the sun rising after I left the apartment, sometimes several hours later. I knew I was on a path, something better than before, and possibly a change, though I can’t remember ever contemplating these things on my way to the warehouse where I worked as a packmule. The man said there would be times when the sunrise would make me smile. Yet, since the day I met him I only showed him the face of an orphaned child. He was rarely home when I returned after night fell. But with time, things did change. My hair grew longer and longer. I kept it just passed my shoulders. On the days I remained home from work the man taught me to sew. While the man dressed himself before leaving for the night, he spent the time lecturing me about drag etiquette and giving a hands-on lesson on how to convert woman’s clothing to compliment our bodies.

“Remember, inhale while you zip-up. Exhale when you tousle your hair. Scream when you need to, because we all need to scream when we do.

“Pat your lips before walking out the door. And shower yourself in the scent you wish to perspire.

“If anyone, and I mean anyone honey—man or woman— even looks at you with disgust, just blow them a kiss as you pass them by. Be who you are, walk tall and mighty like a queen.”

He also gave me my first dress. He said he hoped it brought the same memories as it did him. I can’t say it ever did.

The only clothes I had from the time before my change were the threads my mother provided, the plain white t-shirts she afforded with the labors of her healing. Instead of throwing them out, I used them for lining, to keep the one who taught me to heal close to me. I knew in her own way she showed me love.

The man was my strength, as I hoped to be yours. The man told me he had to let me walk on my own. He gave me his room, with a closet full of beautiful dresses, and colorful accessories. Caddy corner from the sewing machine sat a vanity mirror covered with make-up tips and inspirational quotes— words I heard him tell me time and time again but I was too tired to make them my own.

About a month after the man left, I began to use his things, tailored each piece to cling to my waist. It was in his absence that he taught me how to be a woman. I hoped to pass on my things to someone one day too.

It is odd how you called to me when I first crossed your path. You were the first to compliment my hair, “I like your hair, reminds my of an onyx stone. Is it real?” I laughed, put my arms around you, teased you about your little boy clothes and brought you home the same night. You were my lost child of the night. But of course you probably do not remember your first year either. Or maybe you remember everything, and I’m just a foolish lost soul.

I bet you thought you would never know what happened to me or why I left. I didn’t mean to leave you like this. It was an honor to see you bloom. Unlike me, you listened to my words and teachings like a starving child licking your lips over breadcrumbs. I never gifted you a first dress because you made it when I was gone—in one day. You wore it before your hair grew out and your curves filled it in. You were the fawn born a doe. I never say I found you because I know you saved me from me. You gave me the courage to face my change and to own my new name.

Zoraida. Marisol. Like sisters. I was more like jasmine; you are more like ginger. We both healed each other. Yet, it was I who fell for the wolf disguised in sheep’s coat. My prince promised me an untold fairytale. I wanted to keep him all for myself. I never shared his name or the details of our prelude. I left before you came home. I left wearing a new dress, carrying my finest purse and wearing matching shoes. I hoped to be swept off my feet and carried away in his arms. He did just that.

My prince let me enjoy our shared meal and drink one glass of red wine. He offered me a ride home. The stars were out and my shoes were not made to walk the streets. How could I deny?

I prepared myself for the good night kiss. Pushed my hair behind each ear, dabbed my lips lightly on a tissue to avoid leaving him marked. I would thank my prince shyly while looking up to his eyes.

But before I could tell him where to turn, my prince drove in a different direction. When I joked about getting lost, he said he had been watching me from long ago.

“I saw you first at a bus stop. You applied red lipstick on your lips.” He said the words while his black eyes turned to see me.

“Oh, it must have been a day I was running late.” I responded and giggled while looking away.

“I watched how your hair grew, before it even passed your ears.” This time, he spoke in almost a whisper, staring straight ahead.

“Oh, what do you mean? It has been this length for months.” My voice cracked and my body tensed up.

“I’ve been watching you, pretending, pretending, that’s all you do!” His voice changed its tune, his brutish words echoed as if they bounced off each window in the car.

The car came to a stop and it wasn’t at my home. I immediately went for the door. When I moved away from him, I felt a roughness around my neck. My hands didn’t have the strength to reach the door or window. I tried to scream but the noose got tighter and tighter. My fingers burned from clasping the rope, trying to keep inhaling. I got very tired and let my eyes shut. When I awoke, I was tied at my ankles and wrists, laid in a small space. I was in the trunk of his car. I tasted metallic on the tip of my tongue and was undressed. Pain, pain, every- where—like ten beatings in one day. I could only close my eyes to dream of something better. I awoke to my prince opening the trunk to beat me more. He didn’t speak, nor could I with the gag in my mouth. I could only wish, wish I would have never believed another could love me. I never awoke again.

A young woman found my body, behind a dumpster. I watched her walk out from the nearby building as I floated above my naked self. My scars under my breasts were practically invisible and the ones between my legs were beginning to fade. I covered myself in lavender and tea tree oil every day—it was my daily ritual. The relief brought me happiness. I knew how to heal myself but I couldn’t undo what my prince had done.

I passed the first months after death watching you. I hovered over you when you walked alone at night. I rubbed oils on you during your sleep. I wanted to heal the pain my absence caused. But when I read over your shoulder that they excluded my name, the name I chose for the real me, I wished I could live again. They erased me, replaced me with the helpless boy my mother raised. They convicted my prince for killing a man, even though I grew up to be a woman. It was anger that forced me to listen. I heard the cries from others like me. Some cried to die, others prayed to live. I couldn’t allow for them be alone in such desperation. I left your side to be with them. I applied oils and spoke comforting words as they whispered their wishes. Each time I arrived at a newly bruised body, I feared it might be you.

Today, my worst fear came true. But now I can truly be the wiser woman you need me to be. You have a choice Marisol, you can choose to die today or to live past tomorrow, live to speak aloud our names. Give them a reason to speak yours in the present, let mine be a legend. You must choose between life and death. Only you can choose.

Tell me my dear sister, tell me what you desire, I will help with the pain. Inhale the sage I burn for you now, it will cleanse you of any doubts and give you strength to speak. Is it life or death you seek?

I will make whichever wish you choose come true.

Sarah Rafael García is a writer, arts educator and conceptual artist. Since publishing Las Niñas (Floricanto Press 2008), she founded Barrio Writers, LibroMobile and Crear Studio. In 2015, she completed a M.F.A. in Creative Writing with an emphasis in Fiction and cognate in Media Studies. In 2016, Sarah Rafael was awarded in part by The Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts, through an Artist-in-Residence initiative at CSUF Grand Central Art Center, to develop the multi-media project titled SanTana’s Fairy Tales (Raspa Magazine 2017). In 2018, she held an artist residency at The Guesthouse, Cork, Ireland and was honored as an Emerging Artist at the 19th Annual Orange County Arts Awards. Most recently, Sarah Rafael García was selected as a 2019 University of Houston Kathrine G. McGovern College of the Arts and Project Row Houses Fellow. She currently splits her time between stacking books at her tiny bookstore in Santa Ana, California and developing her forthcoming sci-fi literary project in Houston, Texas. To read more about the SanTana Fairy Tale collection, see this excellent review at De Colores: The Raza Experience in Books for Children and please look for the book and purchase it online.

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