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roger-that-cap · 3 years

Text

wildest dreams

witch!wanda x reincarnated!reader

summary: wanda had walked around the earth for centuries with no magic and hardly any soul left after losing her soulmate. she thought that her lover would never return and that the only reunion they would have would be in the afterlife, but a run-in with bucky changes everything after he insists that he met the long gone y/n at a fountain in the park.

yet another au by me...

word count: around 6.5k?

imma tag one person bc she gets upset when she isn’t tagged- and idk if anyone else would actually be interested?

@teenwonder

also this picture is not mine, and the dividers are by @firefly-graphics !!

without further ado, it’s almost 6 in the morning but i give you this!!

She held you tight, fingers digging into your skin as she trembled above you. The rose bushes were rustling in the wind next to you both, the sweet smell of the flowers contrasting with the moment. You were halfway gone already, eyes far off but trying to swim back to the surface, wanting to look at her one last time before the inevitable happened.

“S…” you tried to say, but she hushed you immediately, tears falling down on your face and mixing with your own. You shook her head at her as hard as you could, begging for her to let you continue. “Say you’ll remember me,” you ground out, fingers tightening around her hand.

“What?” Wanda asked, voice already thick with grief as she tried to decide whether or not it was better to keep the knife lodged between your ribs inside of you.

“When I come back-” you cut yourself off by coughing up blood, and Wanda didn’t even wince when it splattered on her cheek. “Back for you, promise that you’ll remember me.”

“Darling,” Wanda whispered back, her voice cracking as she bent over and rested her head on your stomach for a moment, hiding her sob. She could feel her magic tingling inside of her; under her skin, in her bones, dancing on her fingertips. “I wish I knew- I wish I just knew how-”

“Please.” You said, a desperate look in your eyes as you halted her words, already knowing what Wanda wanted. But natural magic was nothing to mess with. She sobbed again with her lips pressed together, no sound escaping her. You squeezed her hand tighter as the sun started on its routine descent, basking the two of you in an orange glow that you would have stopped to admire in any other moment in time. But Wanda would grow to hate that shade of orange with every breath in her. “Please.” It would always remind her of the sound of your begging, voice reaching for something that she couldn’t see.

Maybe it was the desperation in your voice, or the way that she just knew that you were well within your last moments, because she looked up at you one last time. “Of course I’ll remember you, darling. I couldn’t even dream of forgetting you.” There was a wheezing sound that came from your chest as you cracked a bloody smile, and then you gave one last squeeze before you looked away from her, your soul settling in the afterlife.

Wanda Maximoff would never forget it. Suddenly, her previously irrational fear of losing her magic became real, but that feeling didn’t even come close to the one she got when you grew lifeless in her arms.

Ever since you knew what a normal person was supposed to be like, you had identified that you, in fact, were not the normal person that you were probably supposed to be. Normal people didn’t daydream to the point where it felt like their bodies weren’t in the present anymore. Normal people didn’t have birthmarks under their ribs that aced and burned. Normal people didn’t feel out of touch with their world, like they weren’t even meant to be in the century they were in. Normal people didn’t feel like they were searching for something tirelessly, something just under their noses. And normal people surely didn’t dream of the same set of hands, same pair of eyes, or the same voice over and over again, a new setting every time, but always the same, faceless person. You either drew the same faceless person or rose bushes, and every sketch book you ever had was full of them.

At first, you were sure that you were going insane. Every time you closed your eyes, you would see a flash of reddish brown hair, or the same set of eyes, or the same pair of pale hands. You kept seeing this person without ever seeing a face for nights at a time before you went to see a therapist, who just ended up telling you that worrying about it was only going to make it worse, whatever it even was. But eventually, you learned to get used to it.

Acceptance turned into expectancy. You went to sleep knowing that there was going to be a pair of hands accompanied by the same slender fingers as always before you, sometimes intertwined with your own. You knew that there was going to be a set of eyes on you, watching you intently with no ace to go with them. You knew that you would hear whispers of the same voice, speaking so clearly in a language you didn’t even come close to understanding, and soon, you were craving to see and hear those things. And wanting to see them led to something that you never told your therapist; drawings.

You drew nearly every day under the sky, trying to find different park benches to see the sun rise and set at different angles for inspiration. You loved the sky, moon and stars alike, but there was something special about sunrises and sunsets. Sunrises and sets both meant new beginnings to you, out with the old and in with the new, and each rise and fall filled you with a strange feeling of nostalgia. You were watching the sunset on a park bench by yourself, a sketchbook sitting on your lap as you held an idle pencil, still thinking about the way you wanted to draw the hands. The birthmark between your ribs started to tingle, letting you know that it was about to burn again. That damn birthmark. You dropped the pencil and scratched at it, trying to beat the annoying feeling at its own game. You cursed the mark, but your eyes didn’t leave the sky, and you noticed your heart swelling in your chest, faint despair in the pits of it, churning around like the middle of the deep sea.

You shook your head and put your pencil in your hand again, brain not even having to work hard at all to see the features of the faceless person who was in your every dream.

Even before she ever met you, Wanda didn’t sleep well. She would toss and turn for at least an hour before she finally found some temporary, flimsy form of peace. Her sleep was always light and she hardly ever had dreams, which was customary for a woman like her at the time- an un-blossomed witch.

It was hard for her to remember the time where she didn’t have magic, but that time certainly existed. It lasted nearly thirty years. She never aged a day past twenty one, time moving past her without a care in the world. She was stuck right there, no magic except for the little bit in her bones that was keeping her young. And then she met you.

You were the person that kicked her magic into gear. You were her kindred soul, her other half and the power to her magic. Meeting you had flung her right into the world of magic and spells, things that she only watched others do, but even as she was introduced to an entirely different world, she could remember only really wanting you. Her heart and soul called to you far louder and stronger than spells called to her eager mind. When she met you, it all fell into place. It was an easy love, one that was never going to be disputed or questioned, and loved it. She was prepared to move heaven, earth, and the gods for you, if she had to. Your arrival into her life had caused her to finally blossom.

But now, she had bloomed and flourished and wilted all the same, and she was just waiting to decompose.

“Have hope,” was all that Bucky, a warlock who had been tortured enough in his own way, would tell her. “Have hope that something good will come to you, and it will.”

She never had the heart to tell him that good things hardly came to those who waited. He himself was a product of waiting, and it had served him well. Before he met his other half, he was taken by a rival clan and experimented on with spells that were so far past illegal that they made the casual witch shudder. Eventually, he was broken out and the rival clan was defeated, but he returned to them as an empty shell of a man. But then, Steve came, and then the man was nothing but a ball of light. His magic grew to be strong and so did Steve’s, and together they became known as some of the strongest practitioners of magic in the world.

But what did Wanda have to hope for when you were gone? What did she have to wake up for and smile at when she knew that she had buried you hundreds of years ago? It wasn’t even about the magic. She couldn’t care less about the way she felt the energy leave her- and it was dramatic- leaving in a singular burst of light the second you left. She only knew that you were gone, and that was the only thing that mattered, and it seemed to be the only thing that she even really felt.

Well, she did feel one other thing. Exhaustion. Exhaustion caused by the lack of you by her side. And exhaustion was exactly why she assumed that she was hallucinating when she felt a small tug at her heart, in a part of her brain that had been dormant for years and years. She shook her head and tried to take her thoughts away from you and the nagging feeling in her gut.

“Oh, no…” you exclaimed, voice tapering out into a whine as you watched the ruined paper sink deeper and deeper into the fountain, a fist clenching at your side in disappointment when you realized how many hours were lost, just like that, and then even tighter when you realized that part of you wasn’t even truly upset about the time spent on the ruined art. You were mostly upset that you lost the only vision of the hands that you had during the daytime.

You were on your knees, sleeves still all the way down as you reached into the water frantically, causing the paper to move even further away. You weren’t even worried about your sketchbook that had fallen open onto the pavement, more focused on the rapidly deteriorating piece of paper. You hardly even noticed the man who knocked into you talking, trying his hardest to make the situation better. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, is there anything I can do?”

“I mean,” you breathed out, taking the nearly disintegrated paper from the water and grimacing. When you realized that the man was fumbling to say something from behind you, celery apprehensive over the fact that you were upset, you took a short breath and turned around, giving him a small smile. He had dark brown hair that was cut short and crystal blue eyes that were striking, but you knew that they held thousands of stories by looking just once. He was holding your sketchbook, and by the way he was gripping it tightly, you could tell that he had flipped through it for a second. “It’s just a drawing. I guess I can make another one.”

His eyes widened. You saw his jaw slacken and his neck stretch out, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He blinked three times, and his parted lips trembled for a second before he slammed them shut. You cocked a brow at him, your sadness about losing the drawing being replaced by a weak feeling of uneasiness. “Sir?”

“Knew it.” His face was clear from any type of emotion as he watched yours, and when you opened your mouth to ask him if he was okay, a grin spread across his face. “I’m Bucky, what’s your name?” You furrowed your brows at him, asking what the hell had just occurred without saying a single word. “I’m sorry, you just looked really familiar.”

Just like that, you smiled. You knew that feeling, you felt like you got deja vu far too often to be normal. You hated when people made you feel strange for it, you always had, so you tried your best to ignore it with him. “You’re fine, don’t worry. I’m Y/N.” You extended your dry hand for him to shake it. He stared at it for a moment, and then with an eagerness that made you smile, he shook your hand.

“‘I’m Bucky.”

For a moment, you could have sworn that you had done more tha just seen him before. Could have sworn that you had shaken his hand, met him before, been at the receiving end of his blinding yet somewhat shy smile. It flashed through you warm and bright, and you cleared your throat before pulling your hand away and realizing you had held it for too long. You cleared it again when you saw something flash in his eyes, a weak smile lifting on your lips.

“It’s not her.”

Wanda was furious. She was insulted more than anything, really, angry that Bucky could even mistake the light of you for someone else. She knew that you would never grace the earth with your presence again, and she was so used to the fact that she was going to have to die before seeing you again. And for one of her closest friends to try to convince her that you were back?

“She would have already found me.” And Wanda believed that with her whole heart. You had asked her so long ago that you remember her, like she could ever forget. Your scent was so flowery that whenever she walked past a growing garden that she smelled you, your smile was so bright that she saw it in the way the rays of sun came down on the earth. She heard your laugh in the chirping of the birds every morning, and she saw your playfulness in the running waters of the stream by the cabin. She could never forget you, because everything was traced back to you. And you would never return without finding her.

“I don’t think she even knows it yet, but she is looking for you.” Bucky insisted, stepping forward and receiving Wanda’s burning glare while Steve stepped to the side and let it happen. “I bumped into her and she dropped her sketchbook. I saw her drawings- she drew your eyes.”

Wanda’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“She dropped the drawing of hands in the water, but I saw she had drawn eyes that looked just like yours, hair the same shade as yours, even drawn the necklace you used to wear. She draws roses, too. I swear to everything above, it’s her.”

She could feel herself getting warm, the sort of emotions stirring inside of her that had the potential to turn into a singular weapon. The thought of a rose bush made her sick to her stomach. “It’s not her.”

“You forget that I knew her, too,” Bucky stated, and Wanda’s desolation was replaced by some ancient feeling of possessiveness. “I could never forget her face, and that was it right there. That was her face, without a shadow of a doubt, And her voice-”

Wanda’s face curled into a snarl. “Stop talking about her.”

“Hey, Wanda, take a deep breath,” Steve cut in, ever the mediator, but Bucky was hardheaded. If he thought something needed to happen, he was the one to push for it to happen, and he needed her to see.

“She looks the same as she did the day she left.” Wanda let out a choked noise. For a second, all she could picture was her lover dying by the blooming rose bushes in the sunset, ruining two of the most beautiful things in life at once. The third (but first) was you, but not even your horrible death could taint Wanda’s memory of you. You would forever be the brightest and most beautiful thing to grace the earth. “I got her number, we’re meeting at a coffee shop a few blocks away.”

“Leave her alone.” Wanda said through gritted teeth, tears welling up in her eyes. When she saw the brunet’s eyes widen and his mouth drop open, she spoke before he could get a word in. “Just stay away from her, Bucky.”

All she could think about was your death. The way you choked on your own blood. The way you cried and looked up at her, but still managed to smile. And as she was consumed by rage and memories, the only other thought in her mind was that she was yours and you were here, and that she couldn’t save you then. But she was surely going to preserve your memory from Bucky’s mouth.

“I know you feel it coming back. You haven’t felt it in so long, but it’s warm, right? It’s powerful. You always were the strongest, and you’re not dormant any longer. Stop lying to yourself and depriving yourself of love, Wanda. You know Y/N-”

She saw red. Red as red as the fires that burned in the magma underneath the ground, as red as embers in a fire. “You don’t get to say her name.” She saw so much red, so much hot anger that hardly covered her sadness, that she didn’t even see the way that she had her hand out red coming from her palm as she lifted Bucky right off of the wooden floor of their shared home. “You don’t get to talk about her.” There was a warbling noise in her ears, whispers that sounded like her name, getting louder and louder until she finally realized it was Steve trying to get her attention.

“Wanda.”

Instantly, she dropped her arm and watched Bucky fall to the ground, landing in a crouched position. She watched him catch his breath on the ground. She opened her mouth to apologize, to say that she felt terrible and that she had no idea what happened, what took over her, but she was stopped by the brilliant smile that came onto Bucky’s face.

“You used magic.” He said, slowly and steadily, not a hint of hesitance or animosity in his eyes or voice. Instead, he seemed more proud than anything. “You can’t deny this now, Wanda.”

She was hyperventilating, the pain in her chest intensifying as she tried without any results to get the right amount of air in her lungs. She felt her knees hit the ground before she knew that she did, her hands covering her face as she sobbed into herself. Her heart ached, tugging in so many different directions as her brain fought to rationalize what everything meant. She had used magic, and that meant that you were back, in one way or another. She was in disbelief. She was in despair. She was in shock.

“I know you do, I know you do,” It was Steve’s arms around her, and Steve’s voice in her ear, and she realized that she had been saying I miss her, I miss her, over and over again until the words jumbled. “We know you do, Wanda. We miss her too.”

But he didn’t understand. He hadn’t lost Bucky since he had found him. He hadn’t walked the earth for centuries after losing the only thing that mattered to him as an empty shell of the person he used to be. He would never understand, but that wasn’t his fault. In fact, she prayed that he would never understand.

“I’m sorry I approached you like that,” Bucky said, crouching down and hugging her just as Steve was, enclosing her into a hugging circle. They were coven, related by magic, and just being around them made her tears subside. “But you know that I would have never said anything like that unless I was one thousand percent sure. I would never do anything to hurt you, Wanda. All I want is for you to be happy. And I know that I found her.”

And how could he want anything but the best for her? He knew her just as much as Steve did. Just as much as she probably knew herself. He and Steve were the ones who stormed the coven that took you from her by her side, and they were the ones that helped her send them to their graves. They supported her through thick and thin, through revenge and peace, and mostly, they loved you almost as much as she did. Why would Bucky lie?

Wanda blinked, staring down at her hands in fear and wonder as her heart beat started to get away from her. Steve’s warm hand landed on her shoulder, and she flinched from the sudden touch after such a rush of power.

“I think you should go with him, Wanda.” Her heavy breathing was all that filled the air for a moment. “Just take a look at her from outside so you can leave if he was wrong without anyone knowing, but you should at least try. I think Buck’s right.”

Wanda’s breaths were still labored. Her hands trembled as she moved hair from her eyes, and her lip quivered before she found the strength to mutter a few words. “Will she- will she remember?”

“I think she will,” Steve said softly. “But she’s probably just a human. It may take more than just seeing you for her to remember everything.”

Her eyes were wet with tears, and her heart was so big with warmth and need that she was scared that it would burst open at the seams. But she was even more terrified to lose the idea of you. Slowly and shakily, she nodded, her head bobbing up and down as she sealed her own fate. “I’ll go.” She saw Steve give her his fatherly and supportive smile, small yet full. “I’ll see her.”

You didn’t know how you were gently swindled into giving Bucky your number. You knew that it was nothing but friendly, but he was so charming that you felt like you could never not know him. In fact, it felt like you already did know him. He said something about maybe commissioning an artwork of yours, and of course that excited you. You were going to meet him at a coffee shop, in a public place even though you weren’t the slightest bit afraid of him. But something felt different.

It started once you got into your car. You were driving to get to the shop when tingles came down your spine, and bumps raised on your arms, like someone was whispering against your skin. You started to feel warmth come and go in waves, brushing against your mind and then retreating again. You shook off all of the strong feelings as you turned your car off, parked in front of the coffee shop while the music from your speakers filled the silence, soft piano music that was perfect for the weather.

It was drizzling, the kind of weather that you liked to call a “lover’s drizzle” because of how often it was seen in romantic scenes. Scenes of confession, of reunion, of desperation between two lovers- more often than not, they had the mild rain to stand in. You turned the music down before shutting your car off and then stepping out, closing the door and locking it immediately before walking briskly to the entrance of the coffee shop with your recent drawings in hand.

Bucky wasn’t there when you arrived. In fact, hardly anyone was there besides the few employees, who smiled at you when you entered but otherwise fell back into conversation amongst themselves, which was fine with you. There was one beefy blonde man who was sitting with a laptop and a ball cap on. He glanced up for a moment and then took a double take, blinking hard at you with a star struck look on his face, and then he shot his gaze back down and went back to typing.

You sat down at a table for two, the only type of table that was there besides the long, awkward study tables that they had set up in the center of the room. You would much rather take the intimate setting of a two-seater than to sit in the middle of the shop, so you did just that. You flipped through your work, looking at it closely now that you had the time. He had mentioned something about possible portrait work for a friend of his, so you naturally brought most of the drawings that you had done with hands, arms, eyes, hair, nearly everything that was the closest to your heart. You rested your palm on top of them and watched your fingers trace the slender ones that you had drawn in what felt like by memory at the time, like you were just remembering the way an old friend’s hands used to look. You peeled that one back and looked into the eyes, the strangest and prettiest light green color that made your heart pound every time you looked at it. You took a deep breath in.

“That’s gorgeous.” You jumped in your seat as the chair in front of you pulled out from under the table, and there was the charming brunet that you had met by the fountain, giving you the same welcoming smile that he first granted you. You smiled back without hesitation, your heart warming at the sight. “You sure can draw.”

“I try,” you joked, your grin nearly splitting your face. “Do you drink coffee?”

“Nah,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “But I like tea, though.” You gave him a thoughtful look.

“Are you into herbal healing?”

You could have sworn that there was some sort of excitement in his eyes, but you weren’t sure enough by the time he opened his mouth again. “Yes, actually! What, does it look like I’m into it?”

“No,” you answered, and it was true. Bucky was huge. He had the kind of build that intimidated other guys at the gym, the kind that made athletes jealous. He looked like the typical meathead, but he was sweeter than you could have imagined. But he looked nothing like a man who would be into herbal healing. “Just a guess.”

“Pretty good guess,” he mused, and you grinned back. Your head was in the clouds of some strange deja vu when he asked you if you wanted something, and the entire exchange of whether or not you were going to pay was on the back burner as you sifted through your thoughts. By the time he came back, you noticed that you must have told him that you liked hot chocolate, and that he must have paid. You scolded him before he sat back down, waving you off. It was silent for a few moments as you looked out of the window, the rain still steadily working through the atmosphere. The cup was comfortingly warm.

“Can I ask you something?”

With any other man, you would have immediately told him no, or at least have your guard up. But there was just something deep down, so buried that it was faint, but it was there, that told you that he was nowhere even close to being a threat. “Yes.”

He nodded, taking a sip of his tea and then putting his cup down gently before giving you an intense look. “Who’s the girl?”

You frowned. “What girl?”

He raised a singular brow. “The one you draw.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. You blinked twice, and then tilted your head to the side. “I don’t draw just one person,” you said slowly, the lie dragging its way out of your mouth and through your teeth. “They’re different people.”

“Oh,” he said, but the smirk on his face told you that he knew you were lying to him and to yourself. You sipped your drink and something tugged at you, telling you to look out of the window and into the rain again, just one more time before you spilled your guts about seeing things- and then something caught your eye. A flash of a familiar reddish-brown. You turned your full body to look that way, and once you did, you nearly dropped your cup.

There was a woman staring back at you, eyes wide and full of so much emotion that the artist in you wanted to rush to make an unworthy attempt at capturing it. Her lips were parted in pure shock, but you were watching them tremble even from far away. She was getting slightly damp in the rain, but she stood there like it didn’t even matter, just locking eyes with you and sending your heart rate through the roof. When your eyes finally came back to hers after looking at her for what felt like the quickest eternity, you gasped. You knew those eyes.

If you weren’t so deep into gazing at the woman stuck behind the glass, you would have noticed the pleased and content look on Bucky’s face, and the look that he gave the big blond sitting with a ball cap on all by himself. You would have noticed the way that the blond man was turning his body towards your table, watching with the same amount of anticipation as Bucky was. You tried to understand why she looked so familiar, why she was scratching the part of your brain that always tried to convince you that you were much older than twenty something- and then it hit you.

You had been drawing this woman. And you had been thinking about her ever since you knew how to think. It was just the first time you were ever seeing the full picture. “I-” you muttered, eyes stuck on her and the way she looked like she was about to topple over from emotions. The words got stuck in your own throat as you weakly tried to get your mind to take you back to the conversation. “I- excuse me. I have to- I’ll be back- excuse me.” Your chair made a loud noise as you stood from the table in a haste, pushing the door open and walking towards the woman who was still standing on the sidewalk, dumbstruck.

Before you even knew you were outside and into the rain, you were standing not even four steps away from the woman, who was now looking at you with an incomprehensible look on her face. You couldn’t even feel the rain on you. All you could feel was her gaze and the warmth that was settling in your stomach and chest, and the same intense familiarity that was hitting you when you looked at Bucky. But it was so much stronger.

“I-” you frowned, taking a step closer and resisting the urge to reach out and touch her. “Do I know you? Have we met?” You had to have met. You had seen her in your sleep, in your daydreams, in your sketchbook. And still, you never could have imagined how beautiful she was.

She was silent.

“I know this is random and that I just bum rushed you, but, did we go to school together or something?” You were embarrassed. You had never begged someone to remember you before, but this woman was different. She hadn’t said a word to you, and you didn’t even know her name, but you were enraptured. You swore you knew her. You swore you saw her eyes glaze over for a second.

“You really don’t remember, do you?” Her voice struck something familiar in your chest, something warm and comforting. It was so familiar, so far back in your memory that it felt like home. Her accent, her inflection, the way she spoke slowly yet deliberately. It was all there in your mind, but you just couldn’t figure out how you knew it so well. “You don’t remember who I am?”

That had you closing your mouth. You tilted your head to the side at what could have been a hostile question, but her tone made it sad. Did you forget a high school friend? “Oh, um, I know you from somewhere, but I can’t really-”

“Think.” The desperation in her voice made your knees shake. If she were anyone else, you would have told her to go away, but you couldn’t. You didn’t want her to go away. But you couldn’t quite place her either, even though your own heart was screaming at you to remember.

“I’m sorry,” you said, a hurt expression on your face. You braved yourself to leave, taking a deep breath and giving her a weak smile that embarrassed you even further. “This was weird of me. I’ll just-”

She was reaching for you. Time started to run slower as her pale arm extended towards you, long fingers that you had committed to memory and to paper a thousand times outstretched. Your mouth dropped open ever so slightly as you stood in place for a second, body still until you subconsciously leaned forward, your nerves buzzing under your skin.

For a second, the only thing you could do was look at the point where her skin touched yours.

You had seen magic before. You had seen it in movies and at theme parks and when miracles happened, but nothing ever like when her skin touched yours. You swore that the warmth that your body had been feeling kicked in even stronger, surrounding you in comfort. Her hand was wrapped around your arm, gentle yet begging, firm yet wishing all the same for something you couldn’t quite see yet. You looked up and into her eyes, the eyes you had drawn and seen so many times, and then you saw it.

You saw it in more than flashes. They were coming in at the speed of light, but somehow you were able to catch every moment and every feeling that came along. You heard her voice as clear as day, ringing with laughter. You saw the two of you attempting to skip stones. You saw her enchanting your stones behind your back to make you think you had actually done it. You saw her mouth brushing over your cheeks, your mouth, your forehead. You could feel her hands on you, holding you, protecting you, cherishing you all the same. You could remember the way that you felt when you saw her standing in traditional witch’s clothing, being inducted into her coven as a blossomed witch. You saw everything and nothing, and you remembered it all.

Wanda.

A strangled sound escaped your body, so feral that it scared you, but you didn’t care. You pulled her forward, your head clashing against her chest. You could feel her shaking, like she wanted nothing more than to hold you just as tightly, but she was hesitating. “Wanda,” you called out, hugging her tighter, and then, like something in the universe stretched too far and then snapped right back into place, she was returning the embrace.

“I thought I had lost you forever,” she said, her voice hollow yet so full, so expressive. “I lost you, darling.”

The memories were all there, like all it took was a touch, but you were still coping with the knowledge. You had been murdered. Murdered by witch hunters, way back when witches were known and feared. That had to have been hundreds of years ago, you knew it. But still, your focus was on Wanda. It always would be on Wanda, forever and always. Just like hers was on you.

“You didn’t,” you managed to say, your own voice thick with emotion as you buried your face into her neck, finally feeling the texture of the hair that you tried so hard to get right. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere ever again.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, suddenly sobbing in your arms. You had no idea how you weren’t being interrupted in the crowded streets, but when you took a look back inside of the cafe to see the men who you so clearly remembered as Steve and Bucky, you knew it had something to do with them and their fulfilled smiles. “I wasn’t able to save you. I let you die, and I’m so sorry, darling. I’m so sorry.”

Her words brought you back to the present. “Wanda, no. No, no, no.” You wanted to pull away and look at her face, but the second you started to, she held onto you even tighter. You leaned your head back onto her chest. “It wasn’t your fault. There was no way any of us could have known, and no way that you could have saved me. It was beyond us.”

“Nothing should have ever been beyond us.” She argued softly. “I’m so sorry.”

“But it was,” you said. “And now it’s behind us. Don’t apologize, Wanda.” You wiggled around and got free enough to look up at her teary face. “I may not have recognized you, but now that I do, I can’t believe that I ever forgot you.”

“A new life will do that to you.”

“Is it really a new life if I remember everything?” You said softly, the rain long gone as you stood with each other, bodies nearly molded together with how close you were.

She pulled away to look down at you, her eyes and overall expression tense, and then there was a look that you recognized from a long time ago. It was a look of sweet desire. You closed the cap between the two of you, pressing your lips to hers in a way that proved that you were both two lost souls who had wandered their way back to their other halves.

“It can be whatever you want it to be, darling.” Her lips brushed your again, soft and tender and eager for more touch. “As long as you let me be in it.”

#wanda x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #my fics #witch!wanda #marvel au #witch!au #scarlet witch #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #no idea what to tag this-#wanda x you #lgbt marvel #lgbt

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silkenstarlight · 3 years

Text

wild cherry sweet

Summary: Bucky and Reader have to dress up for a mission. Bucky likes Reader’s look, maybe a little bit too much.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x agent!reader

Warning/s: smut (18+ only, minors dni); dirty talk, oral (male receiving)

Word count: 1.9k

Find part two here

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Author’s note: i have really been wanting to buy some red lipstick recently so this may or may not have been inspired by that oops

Do not repost! Likes and reblogs are welcome and encouraged :))

“You are breathtaking.”

You turned away from the bathroom mirror, leaning against the counter and meeting Bucky’s gaze with your own. His eyes raked up and down your body, clad in a slinky, silken dress that shone bright beneath the fluorescence and clung to your every curve like liquid. You smirked at his gawking eyes and raised brows, carefully wiping the excess lipstick that bled from the corner of your mouth with your pointer finger. That motion drew his attention upward, his eyes settling on the plump set of your mouth, painted a sultry, deep shade of scarlet.

He huffed a breath and shook his head, trying to form the right words to compliment you, but they seemed to instantly evaporate from his tongue the moment he opened his mouth. Instead, he walked towards you, taking your hands in his and stroking his thumbs against your soft skin, laughing at himself as he gaped like a fish out of water in response to your beauty.

“Well, you don’t look too bad yourself.” You jutted your chin slightly at his suit, a neatly-pressed, all-black ensemble that only seemed to further enhance the icy blue shade of his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said, voice low and hoarse. He leaned closer, pressing his lips to your ear. “Lipstick’s a good look on you.”

You shuddered, pressing your body closer to his warmth and rocking your hips into his. When he started kissing that sweet spot at the juncture between your jaw and your ear, you couldn’t help but let a breathy moan escape your lips.

This had been your plan all along, of course. You didn’t wear a full face of makeup often, usually foregoing the glamorous, airbrushed look for the bare-skinned practicality of moisturizer and sunscreen. Your job as an agent required you to be on the ball, willing to give up the remainder of your day for the sake of a mission, oftentimes on just a moment’s notice. You couldn’t afford the time and effort of beautification with an occupation that required so much blood, sweat, and tears on the daily. But, tonight was different. Tonight, you and Bucky were preparing for a different kind of mission than either of you were used to.

The GRC was hosting an exclusive gala, invitations to which were only granted to the wealthiest elites in the country. Politicians and A-listers would surely be in attendance, secretly and silently admitting their support of the GRC’s eviction of post-Blip refugees. Such an event was bound to attract some hostility, whether through hush-hush internal transactions between its elite, yet seedy, attendees, or from some outside menace, like the lurking risk of a re-established force of flag smashers. You and Bucky both decided that it would be prudent to attend, just in case you were dealing with fraud or a full-blown terror threat. You both wanted to be ready, to be able to face whatever troubles may arise, from the inside. So, you had to look the part.

You had chosen the dress with the event’s black-tie dress code in mind, of course, but the lipstick was all for him. You had been picking up the bare necessities at the mall, a tube of concealer and a new type of mascara, when the red-gradient display of lipsticks caught your eye. Every shade, ranging from coral to plum, offered a different mask, a slight variant on the character you would be playing the night of the gala. Would you be the coquettish twenty-something, all bright, glossy, and new? Or, would you be the mysterious seductress, daubed in smokey shades of maroon?

After a few moments of careful deliberation, one shade in particular had caught your eye, and your lips twitched into a small grin. You plucked the tube from the shelf. Velvet ribbon red, its label read. A deep, sultry shade, reminiscent of the garnet, wine-soaked tones that were so popular in the ‘40’s. The natural shade to choose, of course, for Bucky Barnes’s companion.

Now, you felt his hands release yours, grasping the fabric at your hips with greedy hands. He continued kissing your neck in a blatant, hungry display of need, lips bowed in a slight, mocking smile when he heard the soft moans that his affection pulled from you. You gripped the edge of the counter tightly with one hand, desperate for purchase, and dragged your other hand up his abdomen, settling your fingers lightly on his chest.

He drew his teeth against your neck and sucked lightly, and you were sure that he was trying to leave a mark, a flagrant signifier to the attendees of the gala you were already late to that you belonged to him, and him only. When he pulled away, examining the petechiae he had branded on your skin, you brought both hands in front of you, tracing them down his front in a flirtatious caress and settling on the buckle of his belt. You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his, taking in his blown pupils as you adeptly released his buckle and unzipped his pants. In a sudden gesture of dominance, you pushed him back to the opposite wall, directing him by the hips. When his back hit the wall, he let out a soft, purring laugh, pleased by your control. He pecked you on the lips, a quick and chaste gesture that contrasted with the unexpectedly sensuous direction the evening was heading into, and you slowly lowered to your knees, maintaining eye contact with him the whole time, pulling his pants down slightly to expose his underwear.

You braced your hands against his quads, running your fingertips up and down his legs in a slow, teasing motion that made his jaw clench. He balled his fists at his sides, not ready to usurp control from you just yet. You simpered, proud of the fact that you had this man coming undone in the palm of your hand, without having even touched his cock yet.

Soon, though, you brought your mouth close enough to his lower half that he could feel the heat of your breath through the thin fabric layer of his underwear. His eyes fluttered closed in anticipation, hips rocking towards your face, and he combed his fingers loosely through your hair, tugging lightly to grant you permission to keep going. It was sweet, the way he was simultaneously so respectful of your boundaries, but so eager to feel your mouth on him. Neither of you cared that it would ruin your makeup, that after this, you would be late for the gala. You both craved a distraction from the nerves that accompanied a mission like this.

You dragged your fingernails along the waistband of his underwear, leaving light scratching marks across his lower abdomen. He moaned softly, a sound that you hoped to sear in your memory forever. And then, you reached inside, pulling his already-erect cock from the tented, taught fabric. The tip glowed an angry red, already leaking pre-cum.

You looked up at him through your lashes and flattened your tongue against his base, dragging it all the way up to his tip. He gripped your hair tighter, the delicious pull of your hair taught in his fist driving you to swirl your tongue around his tip and take him slowly in your mouth.

“Goddamnit,” he muttered as you slowly began to bob your head up and down his length. “Gonna ruin that pretty makeup of yours.”

You pulled back to respond, lips separating from his cock with a satisfying, wet pop! “‘S’alright,” you slurred, palming him roughly with your hand, fingernails dragging against sensitive skin to offer the perfect balance between pleasure and pain. He bucked into your grasp, breath stilling in his throat, and you smiled, sucking the tip of his cock back into your mouth.

You worked him slowly into your mouth, until he hit the back of your throat and only a couple of inches remained outside of your mouth. He noticed this, eagerly watching your progress, and took control, holding your head against him, applying a gentle pressure until you slid down the rest of his length. When your lips pressed against his base, you gagged slightly, inhaling deeply through your nose. You maintained eye contact the whole time, even as your eyes pooled with tears from the strain of looking up.

“What a good fucking girl,” he groaned, rolling his hips against your mouth and smearing your lipstick on his skin in a vulgar imprint of wet, lusty red. You felt a wet, needy warmth accumulating in your core at his acknowledgement, but you kept your hands firmly rooted at his hips, so desperate to please him. “What would people say if they knew you were such a slut for me?” His voice was gruff but lilting and playful, as if he knew that this turned you on as much as it did him.

Finally, he released the pressure, pulling back to let you breathe. After a few seconds, though, you increased your pace, guiding one hand down to his balls and gently massaging them. He closed his eyes again, lost in the tantalizing sensations of your tongue, but he held back, refusing to let the slow and steady pistoning of his hips devolve into the frenzied motion he so desperately desired to adopt in order to finish. Your cheeks hollowed against him, sucking hard, granting him permission to let go.

He understood. Short, shallow movements quickly turned into deeper thrusts, punctuated by quiet moans that rose in pitch as he came closer and closer to coming undone.

“Gonna paint you with my come. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You couldn’t respond verbally, could only stare up at him as his cock breached the entrance to your throat in faltering, uneven motions. That was the final straw. His grip on your hair tightened and he held your head down flush against him, cock pulsing, as his orgasm ripped through him. One final, unabashed and guttural groan escaped his lips as he succumbed to his ecstasy and painted the back of your throat with ropes of come. You mirrored his sound, moaning around him with an enticing vibration.

He held his length inside your mouth for a few seconds, still holding your head against him, not ready to let you retreat just yet. But as his cock grew sensitive, he pulled back with a quiet, overstimulated moan. Your mouth felt empty without him, lipstick smears and strings of spit painting your face in a satisfied, sexed-out portrait of lust. He beamed with pride, hooking his hands under your elbows and pulling you up to your feet before pressing his lips firmly against yours in a gesture of gratitude.

You broke the kiss, cradling his face in your hand. Laughter bubbled in your throat, and, seeing your light-hearted demeanor, he began to chuckle. You stood like that for a minute, laughing in each others’ arms, momentarily uncaring about upcoming missions or smeared makeup.

He took a deep, yet shaky, exhale, and smirked. “Well, we’d better get you cleaned up. Those mascara tracks are pretty telling, and we’re already late.”

You shrugged. “Worth it.”

He brought his hand up to your face, cradling your cheek and wiping the messy smudge of lipstick from the corner of your mouth.

“Oh, absolutely.”

Part two

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jungkookiebus · 4 years

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Magic Shop pt. 2 | jjk

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: tea shop owner!jjk x reader ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: angst x fluff ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: none, just a bit of sadness and foul language ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ: PG ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6.7k sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: you thought after three years the hurt in your heart for your dead husband would sting a little less than it did. in an attempt to clear your mind and start anew, you move to a small, coastal town. there, you find comfort in a tea shop run by a man named jeongguk. every day, at the same time, you come to the tea shop and soon start to fall for the bright-eyed man that listens to you pour your heart out. but the guilt settling in your stomach every time you think of your husband has you running from jeongguk entirely. do you have what it takes to let go?

New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings. -Lao Tzu

“How does this look?” you asked as you turned in front of the mirror. Kyongni sat behind you and meowed loudly. “Is it too much?” You had decided on a summer dress, so it didn’t look like you were trying too hard. She looked at you dismissively before trotting off down the hallway. It was close to her dinner time.

The setting sun was starting to flood your house when you stepped out into the hallway. The air was still, but light. Kyongni sat on your kitchen counter, the sun cloaking her orange coat in golden flame, with her tail swishing lazily.

“I get the hint,” you said as she meowed again. You quickly filled her bowl and set it down on the counter in front of her. You stood, watching her almost in a daze when three soft knocks on your door drew you out of your daydream. Your brow furrowed as you looked towards your front door. Looking down at your phone, you saw that you had fifteen minutes to make it to the restaurant to meet Jeongguk. Whoever was on the other side of that door better just be making a delivery of some sort. Your heels clicked along the floor as you left Kyongni to eat alone on the counter.

Pulling the door open, you were surprised to see Jeongguk, all smiles with a bouquet of flowers in his hand, standing on your porch.

“What are you doing here? I thought I was meeting you?” You were still a bit shocked to see him. He was dressed nicely. He had on dark jeans, black boots, and a long-sleeved white button up.

He looked down shyly as he scooted the toe of his boot across the sand that perpetually seemed to creep onto your porch. He looked up again and you saw the tips of his ears start to redden.

“I didn’t want you to walk there alone.” He quickly thrust the flowers forward towards your chest. “I picked these from my garden.” He seemed like a shy teenager going on his first date.

“Oh!” You grabbed for them before he would inevitably open his fist and let them fall. “Come inside. I was just feeding Kyongni.” You stepped to the side to allow him in.

You immediately went back into your kitchen to retrieve a vase for the flowers.

“These are beautiful, Jeongguk, you didn’t have to ruin your flowers for me.”

“It’s not ruining them when you give them to someone you like.” He wasn’t looking at you as he said it but was instead scratching Kyongni behind her ears, so he missed the small smile on your face.

“Should we go then?” you asked, turning around.

He smiled when he looked up at you. “You look pretty.”

It was your turn to blush now as you looked down. You mustered a shy ‘thank you’ as you reached for your purse. When you turned around from locking your front door, Jeongguk was waiting at the bottom of your step with his arm out, waiting for you to hook yours in his elbow. His smile widened when you complied, and he took the lead as he guided you towards town.

The both of you were mostly silent for the duration of the walk. Wildflowers had begun to bloom, and you still couldn’t get over the ocean views.

“You know,” Jeongguk started softly and suddenly you were afraid of what he was about to say, and you weren’t sure why, “I’m really glad you moved here.”

You weren’t sure what to say. It had been so long since you had been on a “date” or been complimented by someone that wasn’t your husband that your voice caught in your throat and your thoughts scrambled. You stumbled over your words and he smiled as you struggled to say something.

“I-I’m not sure exactly what I expected when I moved here, but I’m really glad, too,” you managed to say.

Jeongguk’s smile could have lit up the darkest of nights, but it was reserved just for you in this moment and part of you wanted to tuck him away, while others fought with your warring feelings. But for now, you were in a perfect bubble. But like all perfect, shining bubbles, its sensitive edges were about to be pierced by the nearest point.

The restaurant was buzzing when you arrived, but Jeongguk had called ahead for a reservation so the both of you were sat rather quickly. He pointed towards the small shaded lamp that sat in the middle of the table and giggled.

“How Ratatouille of them.”

“Seriously?” you snickered as you hid your face behind your menu. You were still laughing when the waitress cheerily came up to the table for your drink orders.

The wine loosened you. You hadn’t touched alcohol in months and now that the sweet red wine was coursing through your body, you were starting to give him more details about your life than you ever had. You had him laughing over silly stories about your childhood, dumb things you and Ki had gotten into, and soon he was cooing over endearing stories about you past pets. Dinner was going better than you had ever thought it would and you felt relieved and happy that you accepted his invitation.

Some time in the night, the music had changed from some current pop music to a more subdued genre that lilted lazily in the background of your conversation. A couple tendrils of music crept into your ears that you recognized with such clarity that you were instantly sober, heat rushing under your skin and caused you to sweat. Jeongguk noticed the change in your demeanor immediately as you sat with your glass mid-air, a shocked look on your face. He slowly sat his fork down and looked at your pained expression in the dim lighting.

“_____?” His voice was low and gentle as if hearing your own name would cause you to explode.

Your eyes shifted to his and you weren’t sure what he saw there but his back was immediately a little straighter as he sat his napkin on the table from his lap. You heard the echo of your own name in your ears again as he spoke a little louder. The blood was rushing so loudly that you could barely hear him. Your hands began to shake, and you suddenly felt as if you were having a panic attack.

It was your wedding song, the first one you danced to.

How had you avoided hearing it after all these years? Maybe the universe had been sparing you and now it was sticking its toe in your front door. Hello, it seemed to say, did you forget about your pain? Shame. A vision of small, white lights lining the trees overhead flashed into your mind. His smiling face as he brought his forehead down to yours, hand in hand, his other on your waist, came into such clear focus that a sob stuck in your throat. How could you have forgotten? How could you have left the most precious moment in your life in the back of your mind collecting dust? You wanted to throw up, you wanted to scream, but all you could do was sit your glass down on the table and finally look Jeongguk in the eyes. You were the ultimate traitor. You willed your tears not to fall. You didn’t want to cry in the middle of a restaurant, but the room began to feel too small and stifling for your liking. You stood from the table suddenly and looked towards the front door before grabbing your bag and weaving between the tables.

“____!” You heard him say your name, but you needed to be outside more than you needed to be in here. If to at least drown out the song so you didn’t have to hear the entire thing.

You didn’t see as Jeongguk shuffled for his wallet, shoved several bills into the waitress’s hand, and apologized before running after you. You reached the door, shoving it open even among the surprised waiting patrons who could see the evident panic on your face. Your feet couldn’t carry you out fast enough as you hit the cool air outside, thankful for the quelling of heat. Jeongguk was fast on your heels as he burst forth from the waiting crowd and was at your side in an instant. You took in large gulping breaths as the tears broke forth and you felt his hand on your shoulder. Quickly, and maybe even harshly, you moved from under his touch and stood in front of him.

“Jeongguk I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” You wanted to scream at the sky and curse the world.

His hands were outward towards you, but not daring to reach. “_____, what happened? Was it something I did?” His eyes were pleading, he looked desperate for an answer as you cried.

You wildly flung your hands between you. “This! Us! I can’t do this. I’m sorry, but I didn’t mean to lead you on, I didn’t mean for any of this.”

You clutched your stomach not wanting to look at him, but you didn’t miss the hurt that flashed in his eyes. He dropped his hands to his sides finally and looked at you for a few moments in silence.

“Would you like me to walk you home?” His voice was so quiet, so devoid of feeling. You knew he was trying to be kind, but something about it made you angry. Even after you did this, even after the way you acted, he was still willing to take care of you in some way.

“Just go home.”

He pursed his lips, nodding. There was so much more he wanted to say, but he instead stood quietly in front of you. He tapped the toe of his boot awkwardly on the ground, head down, before he looked up again.

“If you need me, you know where to find me.” The hurt in his voice gutted you. How could you have been so selfish?

He waited for you to turn around first. You didn’t hear footsteps behind you as you slowly walked into the night.

Jeongguk stood in the same spot until he could no longer see your retreating form, standing in the quiet dark unsure of what to do.

You all but ran home. Tears flowed freely again as your guilt ripped through your heart and stomach. Your chest felt as if it had a million tons stacked on top of it and the food you had eaten threatened to come back up. Kyongni was excited as you opened the front door, but immediately sat at your feet in mild curiosity as your sadness caused you to double over. You sobbed harder than you had in a long time. A pain that you had all but forgotten, but had laid dormant, came rushing back. The same pain you felt when he died screeched in like a predatory bird and sunk its talons into your back. You couldn’t breathe and you couldn’t think straight as you stumbled towards your room, hand finding the wall as you tried to stay upright and not just fall down in the hallway. You could only manage to kick off your shoes as you curled up in the middle of your bed. Kyongni was immediately at your side, purring loudly as her tail flicked back and forth.

You weren’t sure when you finally fell asleep, but your limbs were stiff as sunlight came through the windows. Kyongni was still on the bed next to you, but fast asleep. Your eyelashes stuck together where the tears had dried and your nausea still bubbled in your stomach. The bath you had only made you feel minutely better as you moved through the house with heavy limbs. Outside, the sky was graying over the horizon. The ocean was bringing in a storm. You wanted to roll your eyes, but you felt too tired to even think. You noticed with some disdain that you had left some tea out that Jeongguk had given you a few days ago. You could only manage to put it away and feed Kyongni before you sidled to your couch and laid on your side. Thunder rumbled overhead. The rain began slowly, hitting softly against your window before it turned into a torrential downpour. How had you ended up here after all this time?

You slept on and off through the day. Your feelings varied from empty to so overwhelming that you could barely move. When you finally decided to rise from your couch, the storm had passed, and the sun was setting. Begrudgingly, you stood knowing you needed to feed your cat and yourself. When you were done, you stood in your kitchen looking around as if something would happen. As if something would pop out and say, Hey! Focus on me for a minute and forget! But there was nothing. Maybe a walk. You didn’t think twice as you grabbed a sweater and stepped outside. Stars were starting to form in the now clear sky and the night had cooled immensely. You weren’t sure where you were going as you started to walk and you sure as hell did not intend to walk by the shop. Of course, it was closed and dark, but all the sudden the tea shop no longer held the same magic as it had before. It seemed ominous and foreboding as it sat in silence. Beyond the window, it was black, with only a few plants in sight. The carved wooden door did not seem as whimsical as it once used to. A place that was once a source of hope and warmth was now filled with a steely iciness. Your heart seemed shut off to the idea of joy as if you didn’t deserve it. Instead, a pain and bitterness filled you that left a horrible taste in your mouth. You didn’t want to stand here much longer as you turned to go back home, clutching tightly to your sweater as you experienced yet another loss. The tea shop, and enigmatic place of wonder, was now an empty shell.

The days crawled on. You no longer went to the shop. Jeongguk had tried to text you the next day, but when you didn’t answer, he stopped trying. He had left a bento on your porch, and as much as it pained you, you left it there. A day later, it was gone. He had even knocked on your door once, you saw him through your window, but you ignored him until you saw his retreating form down the path. It was best that you kept all ties cut from him, for him and yourself. He didn’t deserve someone who was like you, broken inside, and you still felt a deep cutting guilt for your late husband. The virtual sessions with your therapist seemed little to help you and even Ki coming in for a weekend only slightly lightened your spirits. He had known your relationship with Jeongguk had grown, gently encouraging it even, and it pained him to see you reeling back into old feelings again. You had gotten angry when he suggested you talk to Jeongguk, so he dropped the subject completely. When he left, you fell into the same pit of depression again.

A month passed. When in town, you tried to take paths that wouldn’t take you passed the tea shop. Once or twice, you had seen Jeongguk in town. Whether he saw you was unknown, but you’d quickly leave wherever you were to avoid him.

What had you become? It didn’t matter anymore. You had lost yourself almost four years ago. What did you expect?

You stared at the boxes that still sat stacked in your makeshift study/library. They were mostly his books and things you couldn’t seem to let go of. His office was his sanctuary and everything in it was like relic to you. As if some part of him would still be present, you were afraid to get rid of any of it. Were you doing any service to him by having it all packed away? You stared at the almost bare shelves save for a few of your own books and sighed. You needed to make a cup of coffee first.

When you had a steaming cup in your hand, you surveyed the room again. All the boxes were neatly labeled so there would be no issue in finding anything. Just the thought of unpacking it filled you both with relief and dread. Slowly, one by one, you began pulling books from a box. Before you noticed, you had neatly put away at least three boxes worth of books. In another box were the framed pictures he had had on his desk. One was of your wedding photo and another was of just you from a vacation to Jeju. He had always kept both within eyesight, sitting behind and to the side of where he usually sat his laptop on his desk. Sticky notes with his various tasks at the time sat stuck together and stacked in the cup he kept his pens in. You felt as if every tear in your body had dried up over the past months, but seeing such mundane things brought back a new quell of feelings. You were sad, but also reminisced on a time when things like ‘email Kim about research grant’ were the most of his worries. Another had a time and location. What for you couldn’t remember. He had also kept the various love notes you would scribble across the orange pad, sticking them to his desk at home and at work.

The box you had saved for last, when the last tendrils of sunlight came through your sheer curtains, was the one you hadn’t really wanted to touch, but you were here and you might as well. His books were precious to him. There was one story that touched his soul and he revisited it over and over. You pulled the flap back on the cardboard and peered inside. Sixteen worn and dog-eared novels sat neatly stacked in the box in perfect order. The epic had brought many years of happiness to him and he would lose himself in the turbulent history late into the night. Several times he had tried to get you to read it, even reading you his most favorite passages, but you had never committed saying that sixteen was too much for you to conquer. The word Toji looked up at you, the watercolor of workers so familiar to you. It was nostalgic seeing it now because the last time you had, it had been in his hands.

You picked up the volume and it felt soft. He had read it so many times that the cover felt like soft velvet beneath your fingers, bending easily as you opened the book and held it to your face, inhaling deeply. For a moment you imagined it smelled like your old home and him when you knew it was just the smell of the old pages. You sat it down and picked up another, just as worn, flipped to the middle and smelled the pages. You felt calm for the first time in a long time. You picked up another and before you could flip further, a piece of folded notebook paper fell from between them. You stared at it as it lay on the floor. There was obviously something written on it. You could see the heavy black ink through the paper and you immediately recognized his flowing handwriting. Why would he leave something in his book? Maybe it was just a bookmark. Putting the book back in the box you bent over and plucked it from the floor and unfolded it. Your hand flew to your mouth when you saw the note was addressed to you, but you had never seen it before. Did he know you would find this here? Had he written it with the intention to give it to you and decided not to? You didn’t even bother to sit as your eyes scanned the paper, immediately wondering what its contents were.

Hello my love,

I hope this finds you happy. I’m tucking this away in the books I always told you to read, but you always said was too long. When you thought I wasn’t looking, I caught you on many occasions skimming through the book, reading a page here and there. I know you wanted to be able to talk with me about it, but it’s okay if you never wanted to read it. The fact that you tried warmed me.

So, I expect you to find this much after my passing. I would like to imagine that you moved out of the city to somewhere nice. I know how much you wanted to live on the coast. Go somewhere where the sun will wake you up each day and the moon lays beside you at night. Meet new people, make new friends, and find new love.

I don’t want to be cliché and say that I want you to be happy but—honestly, I couldn’t put it any other way. You brought so much joy to my life and you have so much love in your heart I’d hate to see you keep it stored between guilt and regret. Don’t be afraid to move on. No matter what you do, or where you go, you will always have my heart.

Now, go get a cat or something. Don’t lock yourself away and promise me that you’ll let love back into your heart.

How wonderful it was to have met and loved you; a thousand paths await your footsteps.

-Hoseok

The tears you no longer thought you had flowed openly. A new foreign feeling hit you like a freight train. A release, an ease of pain you didn’t know you needed overtook and overwhelmed you. It was like he had come back, if just for a second, when you needed him the most and told you exactly what you needed to hear. He had never expected you to feel angry and hurt for so long. He had never expected you to live your life alone because he had gone earlier than you. He had never expected anything from you, and you weren’t sure why you hadn’t seen it before. He had been such a wonderful, forgiving person that you had done him a disservice to think he had wanted this. Of course, he wanted you to be happy. Why had you thought any less?

You suddenly felt terrible for the things you had done; for the things you had said to Jeongguk the last time you had seen him. It had been a few months since you left him in the street. You could apologize but what were you expecting from him? Nothing. You didn’t deserve to even be heard by him, but you needed to try.

Thunder rumbled overhead. As if this couldn’t get any worse. You were already queasy thinking about confronting him, but if now you didn’t go you never would. You didn’t bother changing from your ragged shirt and shorts, only throwing on a jacket as you ran out of your house in just socks and slides.

The wind was violent, twisting trees this way and that as a strong storm rolled in over the waters. You had no business being outside and you weren’t even sure he was home. You tripped once going up the uphill path to his home, knees scraped, but you didn’t notice as you picked yourself back up. Your feet slid in your shoes as the rain began to fall and your extremities felt like ice. Your nose began to run with the cold, breath coming out in soft puffs as you tried to traverse the now rain slicked path. It was coming down in sheets now. Regret coursed through you as you shivered, but the overwhelming feeling to stand in from of Jeongguk and just scream fueled you. You wanted to scream to let out the anguish, but you also needed him to know how you felt. You would probably look and sound crazy as you finally reached his house, but you were desperate. Your blood felt hot and pumped in your ears. You felt relief as you rounded the trees and saw his home lit from within. Nothing you were about to do was rational or normal, but it was going to ease the pain even further. Even if it ended badly.

“Jeongguk!” you yelled from his front yard. You squinted as the rain poured and the wind blew. The door did not open. No figure passed in front of the light. The storm was loud. You screamed again, feeling a release of emotions you had been holding as you shouted half at the sky and half towards him. Your throat hurt and your voice rasped.

His front door came open with such ferocity that you were taken aback with how quickly he ran out onto his porch. He looked like he had been relaxing. His hair was disheveled, and he was dressed as if he intended to stay in bed all day. Your hands were at your sides in fists as you willed your body to stay up and stay warm.

“_____?” he shouted as he looked through the driving rain. “What are you doing out here?!”

He hopped off the porch and into the rain and ran up to you. He didn’t think twice as he seized your shoulders.

“You’re going to make yourself sick why are you in the rain?” He didn’t ask where you had been, why you had ignored him, or anything of the sort. His only concern was that you were out in the cold and rain crying. Water dripped from his hair and soaked through his clothes, but he stood in the rain with you looking directly into your face. “What’s wrong?” No sense of animosity or disdain colored his features. He looked genuinely concerned as you sobbed in the deluge.

“I-I’m so s-sorry,” you choked out. Your hands were fisted into his shirt, clinging to him desperately as if he would go back into the house and leave you here.

His hands moved to your wrists and you were abruptly afraid he was about to pry your fingers from him. You looked up at him in panic as your fingernails dug into your own palms through the fabric. His face softened and his grip on you was loose.

“Please come inside.” Lightning flashed overhead as the rain began to fall even harder. You only nodded as he all but pulled you into his house.

You shivered and dripped water on his floor.

“I’m s-sorry,” you said again as you shivered.

“It’s just water let me get some towels and dry clothes.” He was fast as he took his stairs two at a time and before long, he was back down with large fluffy towels and clothes. He wrapped one around your shoulders and began to rub up and down your arms as you shivered. You could see his own bottom lip trembling slightly as he focused on you.

You grabbed the towel and stopped him. “I’ve got it. You’re cold, too.”

He stopped for a second as if thinking before he nodded and grabbed the other towel.

“Here,” he said when you were no longer dripping on his floor, “bathroom is right there. Go put these on.”

He handed you soft sweatpants and a sweatshirt before you walked in the direction he pointed. When you came back out again, he was in the kitchen, in dry clothes with his long hair still drying, busy with a couple of mugs. He smiled when he turned around and slid the steaming cup across to you. The smell of warm milk and honey reached your nose and you instantly relaxed as your hands wrapped around its warmth. You could feel his eyes on you. You had seen the way he searched your body when he ran outside, afraid that some physical harm had come to you. But now that you were here in one piece, his eyes felt as if they were piercing through you and seeing everything. He remained quiet as you both drank in silence until you finally set your mug down. He mirrored your action as he stood across the counter and waited.

“First,” you whispered. You still shivered a little despite the warmth you felt. “I understand if you don’t want to listen to any of this…” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other but didn’t say anything, so you took that as your cue to continue. “But I want to apologize for the way I’ve been acting.”

Silence filled the void between you. He was waiting for you to finish. You figured he wouldn’t interject but part of you wished he would say something.

“I feel…this heavy guilt in my heart. Hoseok was my first love.”

It was the first time you had ever mentioned his name to him. Out of all the things you had told him, you had kept that part of your heart hid away and guarded.

“I met him so young. It was almost as if I grew up in love with him. His love was all I knew and he so kind, and soft, and thoughtful, and…” For once, talking about him felt therapeutic. “He showed me what true love felt like. He opened my eyes to so many things. He supported me in whatever I wanted to do. He was perfect for me in every way.”

Jeongguk stayed silent but attentive. The steam that once wafted from his cup dissipated as the milk grew cold once more.

“He was sunshine personified. Whenever he was in a room, everyone would smile, no matter how down they felt. He could talk to anyone and make a friend. He was so smart. I don’t think there was one person that saw an enemy in Hoseok. I was so excited to start a family with him.” Your thoughts drifted again. The hardest part was the babies you never got to hold. “But I think I have finally accepted his death.”

Jeongguk seemed afraid to move or breathe when you finally mustered the courage to look at him. His eyes were wide as he listened to you.

“I was so caught up in my own grief that I didn’t stop to think what he wanted. Yes, I know, he was dead. But what he wanted, alive or dead, was for me to be happy. It was like his life purpose was to make me happy when all he had to do was simply be in my presence. I was selfish because I felt like my happiness had been torn from me when he had never left. I had small pieces of him everywhere around me. I ignored it all and let the sadness consume me.”

What you were going to say next would make or break anything that happened tonight. Whether it ended in your favor or not, having it off your chest would help you sleep at night.

“Then I met you.” You smiled as you looked at him, eyes shining in the overhead lights. “You seemed to know me better than I knew myself. You pulled me out of that cloak of depression, and I was so fucking afraid that I just left you with no explanation. You started showing me a different kind of love, even though it was friendship at first and it scared me. I felt like I was betraying him by experiencing this new feeling. You never did anything wrong. You befriended me when you didn’t have to, and you were patient with me as I came out of my shell and I took advantage of that. You don’t deserve anything I did to you, Jeongguk.”

His lips were pursed, and concern was evident on his face. He seemed as if he were struggling for something to say.

“I can fully say now that I do love you. I realize now that I have loved you for a while, but never wanted to come to terms with it. I understand if you don’t reciprocate those feelings, but I just need you to know that and how sorry I am.”

Silence fell between you again before he sighed heavily. You braced yourself for rejection.

“It was wrong what you did,” he began. You felt the sting but knew you deserved it. “I was so worried about you. When you started ignoring me completely; leaving the food, ignoring my texts…fuck, ____, I even went to your house and knocked on your door. I spent days sick to my stomach. When I finally saw you in town one day, I was able to breathe because at least I knew you were still functioning and alive—” His voice broke for a second. Every bit of hurt he was dealing you right now was deserved. “I let you go. I’ll admit that I let you go.”

This was what you deserved.

“But god dammit,” his voice broke as he began to cry, “if I were to say I didn’t love you that would be the biggest fucking lie I ever told.”

All at once you felt relief, but also a deep-seated fear. Just because he said he loved you did not mean he had forgiven you. You wanted to look away as he cried, the tip of his nose turning red. You didn’t know how long you’d have to make up for this, if he gave you the chance at all. His tears fell for a few seconds and you had to resist the urge to reach out and brush them away. He sniffed as they dried before looking at you.

“I need time. I need time to take all this in and think about it.”

You nodded sadly. This was the least you could do for him.

“You can stay here tonight. This weather is too bad. I’ll set you up a place to sleep, okay?”

He didn’t look at you as he left the kitchen to prepare the extra room.

That night, your sleep was restless. It was filled with nightmares of Jeongguk screaming at you and others where Hoseok were still alive. Once again, the horrible nightmares you had escaped, slowly crept back into your life.

Four years later

The day was dreary, just like you felt. The rain was a mist as it came down on your hair. You could feel it frizzing instantly and you felt gross as it began to slowly permeate your clothes. Everything hurt. Your feet, your knees, your back, your shoulders…you name it, it hurt. Your depression was a little worse today; the pain only amplified it. Your doctor had changed your medication, safely, saying it was normal to feel this way, that you would make it through together. She was such a good doctor. You sighed heavily, shifting the bag in your hand as you walked. There weren’t very many people in town right now because of this disgusting weather that sat over it for the last two days.

Things had gotten better. You were still in therapy working through all your issues in life, but things really had gotten better. Just the blues right now. Something that would pass. You had been through it before. Your good days were starting to outweigh your bad. Now that you were so close to the end.

You pressed your hand against your back wishing there were someone there to punch it for you. You really should have brought an umbrella.

You trudged wearily out of town and closer to home, wishing maybe to have taken the car if it were only a five minute drive. But you had insisted that a walk is what you needed.

Wrong.

Your home rose ahead of you finally and you sighed in relief. The lights were on and you knew it would be warm inside. You used the last bit of your tired strength as you pushed open the door and stepped inside. Something smelled good.

Kyongni greeted you with a series of meows as she wove in and out of your legs.

“Oof, Kyongni, hold on,” you said as you struggled to bend over and pet her head. She purred contentedly as you scratched her ears and neck. “I gotta go deliver these.” You stood as straight as you could, closing your eyes for a second, and letting the air out of your cheeks. When you had convinced yourself to walk again, you stepped into the kitchen.

Jeongguk was at the stove stirring something in a pot when you walked in.

“It started misting again?!” he said in surprise as he turned around and looked at you. He walked over to you quickly and took the bag. “I’m so sorry, I could have driven you there.”

“No big deal. I had no idea.” You moved slowly over to the large armchair by Bungeoppang’s hammock and fell into it. “Just kinda put a damper on my mood I guess.”

“Well, I’m making you some soup. It’ll also help with the queasiness.” He grabbed a couple of the things you had bought from the bag, added it to the pot, and was soon dolling out the savory smelling dish into a bowl. He grabbed a pair of chopsticks and a spoon before he carefully carried it towards you and sat it on the side table next to you. When it was delicately placed, he slowly moved, hovered over you as you reclined in the seat willing your body to relax. His hands came down gently on either side of your swollen belly. The baby moved a little as Jeongguk pressed a little harder and his laugh was light.

“He’s happy,” he commented.

“He heard your voice. He was still on the way home, thankfully. My back is killing me.”

“I can massage it for you after you’re done eating, but you need to eat.”

He leaned down and kissed your stomach before he placed a quick one to your lips. Then he left you to eat while he cleaned up before serving himself. You watched as he moved around the kitchen. The years had been kind to him. He kept his hair long, which you loved. The tea shop was still thriving, and you couldn’t wait for the day when your son was old enough to share in Jeongguk’s passion.

Hoseok’s sixteen volume saga was now put away nicely on the shelf in your home, having moved in with Jeongguk after dating for a while and then eventually marrying. Tucked away in its pages sat the note he had written and from time to time you would take it out, unfold it carefully, and read the words lovingly. A thousand paths did await your footsteps, but the one you stood firmly on now was clear and full of bright sunlight. Your first wedding song did not bring the sadness it once did, you listened to it with a deep fondness, usually in private on days you missed him the most. Now, you had a new wedding song that could lift your spirits on some of your worst days. You were married to a man that did not feel like he needed to replace anyone but loved you fully for your flaws and past. The love you felt for Jeongguk was insurmountable, new, different, and everything you needed.

It had all started with what felt like magic, a tea shop settled oddly, almost at an angle between two buildings. It gave off a magical aura with its soft, gray brick, glass rippling with sunlight. A green door with intricate wood carvings greeted you as you pushed it open. You still remembered the spicy smells from that day, but what you remembered the most was a boy in a soft sweater, hair falling into his eyes as he greeted you with a bright hello.

#bangtanarmynet #ficswithluv #btswriterscollective #jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #magic shop #update #jungkook x reader #reader insert #nonidol!au #teashopowner!jjk #bts fluff #bts angst

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ask-the-riders · 4 years

Text

Bonds

Idk what this is, but it's a blurb I wrote in which Pest needs to take War to see Retribution over issues concerning how she'd had one of her eye lights marked by Nightmare

This also contains Connie being a bean, Pest talking to a rat, and Death successfully scaring Ret

War pressed her hands over where her ears would've been, her figure beginning to glitch as she slowly slid down her bedroom wall. Curling in on herself, she felt tears prick at the edges of her sockets.

"Come back to me... You can't ignore the calling, 406." "I need you, 406." "You're so very useful... So skilled, so special. Don't tell me you're choosing to waste your abilities like this." "Come to me, 406." "I'm calling for you. That means it's time to come home now."

She shook her head, her sockets wide as she muttered faintly, "S-Shut up, leave me alone. You don't control me... I'm not your pawn anymore." The whispers that echoed in her head made a sound that resembled laughter, "You'll always belong here with me, and you'll always belong to me. Just stop fighting it already. You're only making this so much harder than it needs to be."

The rider shifted, lowering one of her arms and sinking her teeth into it, drawing blood. Her free hand curled into a fist, her fingertips scraping her skull and leaving faint scratches as she whimpered, blue tinted tears rolling down her face. She bit down harder, letting out a muffled cry of pain, and a singular deep, rumbling voice scoffed, "Oh please, 406. You know that won't do you any good, so why do you still do it? Are you really that naive?"

War began to claw at her skull, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to ignore the way her soul was trying to tug away from her, wanting her to follow it. The voice let out a deep sigh, "You're pathetic, you know that?... Those riders have made you weak. Come back to me, and I'll fix all of that. You'll be strong again, and they won't hold you back anymore. They're dulling your potential, and you should be upset about that." She let out a muffled cry as she bit down even harder, trying to ignore the voice.

There was a soft knock on her door, and she didn't respond, too distraught to even take notice of the sound. The door opened a small bit and Pestilence peeked through the crack, his brow bones furrowed, "War?... What's going on? Are you ok?" War's eyes opened again and she looked up at her soulmate, visibly trembling as her glitching grew worse. Releasing her now bloodied arm, she shook, reaching for him as she sobbed, forcing out a desperate plea "Help me, Pest..."

Seeing the condition she was in, Pestilence pushed the door open further and darted into the room, frowning as he knelt before her. Very gingerly taking her injured arm and noting the blood on her face, his frown deepened, "Babe, what'd you do to your arm? Why would you?..." War sniffled, gesturing to her head with her free hand and whining, "He... He won't leave me alone. He wants me to go back there, and I can't. I don't want-" Pest's concern visibly increased, "Who won't leave you alone?" War's glitching continued to worsen and more tears flowed down her cheekbones, "Nightmare. He's calling for me. I dunno how long I can fight it, and I'm scared."

Pestilence drew in a deep breath, using his magic to begin healing her arm as he leaned closer, gently pressing his forehead to hers. Having caught a glimpse of the scratches on her skull, he lifted his free hand, healing them as well. His soulmate wrapped her free arm around him, clutching his hoodie tightly, and he gently shushed her, his voice soft, "Hey, shhhh... It'll be ok. I won't let him take you back, and I won't let you cave and follow his calling, I promise. I'll do whatever I can to help you, I swear on my life."

She nodded, her own voice barely audible, "Ok... Thank you, Pest." He made a soft sound of acknowledgement, lowering his hand from her skull before gently lifting her other arm, now healed, to his face and pressing a soft kiss over where her injury had previously been. She then found herself being hoisted up into his arms, and rather than half heartedly fighting him like normal, War clung to him still, perhaps tighter than before.

He gave her a soft squeeze, murmuring lowly, "If it's a problem with Nightmare that you're having, do you think Ret would be able to help?" War shook her head, "I dunno... maybe?" Pestilence tilted his head, "Would it bother you if we went to see him? Just to ask if there's anything that can be done." The female skeleton shrugged, mumbling, "No, that wouldn't bother me."

He offered her a slight smile, hoping to give some reassurance, before stealing a quick kiss from her and using a shortcut. When they reappeared in their next location, Pest tightened his grip on her a small bit, careful not to hurt her as he roughly kicked Retribution's closed bedroom door, hissing under his breath before shouting, "OPEN THE DAMN DOOR, RET! I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!" Through the door, Retribution's muffled voice could be heard, "Go away, Pest. I'm not in the mood to deal with you right now."

Pestilence kicked the door harder, shouting again, "I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE IN A PISSY MOOD. IT'S AN EMERGENCY, PLEASE OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR, C'MON." War whimpered, pressing her hands over her head as she began softly sobbing again. His expression softened, now full of worry, "Ret, c'mon man, please! Please let us in! I'm... I'm begging you, please open the door. If not for me, then for War."

Retribution could be heard grumbling to himself, and a few seconds passed before the door was swung open, it's handle surrounded by cyan magic. Without waiting a single second, Pest slipped into the room with War, trying to make his eyes adjust to the dim lighting faster as he looked around. He jumped as the door was closed behind him, and he turned, seeing Retribution standing near his bed, in the process of removing and hanging up his cloak, clearly unenthusiastic as he sighed, "What's the problem now?"

Pest approached the other rider, his soulmate still in his arms, "It's War. I'm not sure what's going on with her, but when I found her, she'd bitten her arm and bled a bunch, and she'd scratched up her head. She said she was having problems with Nightmare. That he wouldn't leave her alone, and that he was calling for her or something. We wanted to see if there was anything you'd be able to do to make it stop."

The former prince arched a brow bone, stepping closer to the pair of soulmates. His grasp was firm but gentle as he pried War's hands away from her head and hummed, his cyan magic turning violet as it flared up, illuminating a waning crescent moon shaped mark over her right eye light that had been hidden from view. His brow bones knit in concern and he made a face, "He marked her at some point. That's how his calling is still able to reach her."

Pestilence nodded in understanding, his sockets wide with worry, "Is there any way to remove it?" The shorter of the two males stepped back, gesturing to his bed, "Lay her down. It'll make it easier for me to do my job." Pest did as he was told, gently laying her down and settling on the bed beside her, gently taking her hand and intertwining their fingers. Retribution stepped closer, a scowl on his face as he allowed four ghostly tentacles to materialize, idly swaying behind him.

He leaned down, his violet magic still brightly blazing and illuminating his counterpart's mark while he tried getting a better look at it.

He lifted his gaze after a moment, glancing at Pestilence, "He's used a lot of magic to lock it in place. If I was anyone else, I'd say there was nothing I could do to help." Pestilence frowned, "But?..." Retribution continued, answering the other's question, "But I'm not just anyone else. I might not be able to remove it entirely, but I can, at the very least, replace it with my own mark. If I do that, he won't be able to call for her or bother her anymore. If I need her for whatever reason though, then it would grant me the ability to call for her."

The other nodded in understanding, silent for a brief moment before asking, "How are you gonna get rid of it and change it to yours?... You said it looked like he used a lot of magic to really make it stick." Retribution flicked a single tendril at him, tilting his head, "I intend to use these. I may need some assistance from Conquest as well, however. Her positivity should be able to help weaken it."

Pestilence nodded again, "Ok... Is there anything I can do to help you, or?..." The former prince hummed, "Stay here with her while I go get Conquest. If she starts trying to move, hold her down. We can't have her running off." Pest made a soft sound of compliance, gently squeezing War's hand and watching as Retribution vanished from the room. Once they were alone, War let out a soft whine, her face stained from crying, "Pest?... Do you think he'll be able to do it?" The rider in question hummed in confirmation, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her cheek, "I hope so. I have faith in him, and I know that he'll find a way to pull through."

He paused, gently nuzzling her face, "You'll be ok, War... I promise. I'll be right here with you the whole time." The female skeleton leaned up, delicately touching his face with her free hand and capturing him in a lingering kiss, her teeth against his. He blinked, momentarily surprised before responding, gently pressing back, his cheekbones dusting a faint shade of green.

Just as the tip of his tongue glided over her teeth to request entrance, Retribution reappeared, Conquest at his side. Seeing the exchange between the pair, his cheekbones turned the softest shade of violet and he cleared his throat, averting his gaze. The two parted, both of their faces flushed a darker shade of their respective colors. War delicately stroked her soulmate's cheekbone with her thumb, smiling softly as he leaned into her touch. Pest smiled back at her, gently nudging her and asking her to lie down again.

Though it was clear that she didn't want to part from him, War laid back down, both arms down by her sides. As Retribution approached the bedside, she shifted her gaze to him, her sockets widening in fear at the sight of his tentacles. Her vision flickered, colors glitching and blurring together, and as an inky, black substance began to drip down his face and coat his tendrils, a scream tore itself from her.

Her glitching worsened and she bolted upright, now sitting. As the tendrils curled around her arms and shoved her back down to pin her in place, her eye lights constricted in fear and she screamed again, calling her soulmate's name. Pestilence jolted, taking one of her hands and giving it a firm squeeze. Seeing the way she was beginning to thrash, he frowned, climbing on top of her and straddling her femurs, trying to minimize her movement.

She let out a startled, confused cry and he was quick to shush her, gently patting her face with his free hand and causing her to focus on him, her chest heaving as she all but gasped for air. Leaning over her, his concerned expression softened and he kept his voice low, "War, hey... Listen to me. You're safe, ok? I'm here. Connie's here. Ret's here. Everything's gonna be ok, but we need you to calm down. Please... Take a deep breath. Try to relax. You're ok, you're safe, I promise."

Despite how badly she'd begun to tremble, she blinked and slowly nodded, drawing in a deep breath. Her eyes momentarily drifted shut, and as she opened them to look up at Retribution again, she couldn't help but stare. Her vision had cleared, and not a speck of the black, tar-like substance could be seen on him. Had she really just imagined that?...

Seeing the terrified, confused look her friend wore, Conquest frowned, gently touching Retribution's arm and murmuring, "Retribution?... She's completely terrified. Should we really be putting her through this?..." The former prince shot a look at her and scoffed, "It's either this, or she eventually runs off to be tormented, abused, and puppeted around again. Which would you prefer, Conquest?"

Conquest fell silent, withdrawing her hand from the other's arm. Retribution grumbled something under his breath, before using another tendril to gesture to War, "I'll need you over there with her and Pest. You know what to do." Connie nodded slowly, moving closer to the bed and perching on the edge, letting out a sigh. Reaching out again, she very delicately took War's hand, giving a soft squeeze.

As War's eye lights focused on her, she smiled reassuringly, "I'm going to use a little magic to temporarily paralyze you, ok?... We don't want you moving too much and unintentionally hurting yourself or any of us." The other female skeleton nodded, her voice shaking, "Ok... What's he gonna do to me, Connie?" Conquest shook her head, "I'm afraid I don't know. He didn't disclose that information to me. Whatever it may be, Pestilence and myself are here. You're safe, ok? We would never allow you to be harmed."

War nervously swallowed, giving Conquest the ok to continue after a moment, and she blinked as the other placed a hand over her forehead, her other hand gently squeezing her own. Her sockets became solid white and began to glow as she forced her magic into War's body, and War let out a muted sob as she felt her limbs become heavier. She attempted to move her free hand, but to no avail, and her body's glitching suddenly came to a halt.

She wanted to turn her head to look at Pestilence, whimpering as she found that she couldn't move her head either. A warmth flooded her and all her buzzing thoughts seemed to still, images of herself and Pestilence flickering in her mind. She recalled the images with ease, recognizing them as the memories they'd made together. Their first meeting, their first date, their first time cuddling and sharing a bed, even their first kiss. It was all there.

Another sequence of images appeared though, ones that she didn't recognize. One of her hands, but with a ring around one of her fingers. Her deep blue ecto, forming a round, bulging belly. An infant, tiny and sweet, fast asleep and wrapped in a small blanket. Blue tinted tears welled up in her sockets and dripped down her face, and she began to relax. Seeing how at peace she suddenly appeared, Pest arched a brow bone and glanced at Connie, "Well damn... I'm not sure what you did, but I'm impressed."

Conquest softly thanked him, maintaining her magic's hold on War. Feeling his counterpart's magic starting to weaken, Retribution stepped forward, his hands pressing to War's face and firmly holding her right socket open. Despite the contact, she didn't make a single sound, still appearing completely relaxed. Even as a tendril snaked around him from behind and slithered through the air toward her face, she was silent.

Retribution stole a quick glance at Pestilence, "You. Summon her soul for me." Although hesitant, Pestilence did as instructed, his green eye light glowing as his magic flared up. As her soul appeared floating just above her chest, Retribution's fourth tendril quickly seized it, it's grasp soft and careful. As the tentacle began to slowly squeeze harder and harder, War's eyes widened and she whimpered softly.

Seeing an opportunity, Retribution's magic flared up and the tentacle closest to her face jutted forward, it's tip pressing directly against her marked eye light. Had it not been for Conquest's magic paralyzing her, her body would have jerked violently in response to the contact, and she let out a pained, blood curdling scream.

Retribution muttered something to himself, keeping the tip of his tendril pressed to her eye light for a few more seconds, before suddenly yanking it away, his grip on her face tightening as he held her socket open, trying not to focus on the way tears ran down her cheekbones as she sobbed hysterically, her words jumbling together as she pleaded for them to stop.

The way her fear and confusion flooded his senses was almost intoxicating, and he inhaled deeply. Feeling a mix of fear, sadness, and guilt rolling off of Pestilence in waves as well, he glanced at the rider in question, "Pest. Hey. Whatever's going on in your head needs to stop. She'll be fine, I promise." Pestilence was shaking, lifting a hand to wipe away a tear that dripped down his cheek as he made a soft sound of acknowledgement, his voice cracking, "O-Ok... Sorry..."

As her soul was released and was returned back to it's rightful place within her chest, Retribution sent out pulses of his magic, the pulses increasing in strength until War was silent. As Retribution slowly began to count down from ten, her emotions stilled, gradually becoming much fainter, and as he very delicately released his hold on her face, he watched her eyes drift shut.

The former prince shot a look at Conquest and she quietly nodded, her magic also releasing it's hold on War. No longer being held by their magic, War was still, appearing in a deep sleep. Retribution gently rubbed circles over her lidded socket, pausing to very careful open it again. Just as it'd done before, his violet magic illuminated the mark on her right eye light, now shaped like a waxing crescent moon.

He let out a sigh of relief, his other two tentacles releasing her arms as he let her eye shut again. Looking to Pestilence, his violet magic finally shifted back to their usual cyan and his ghostly tendrils faded away, "...It's done. She'll be asleep for a while yet, but she'll likely be pretty sore when she wakes. Keep her out of any bright lights, and keep an eye on her. If her eye light looks strange or abnormal, bring her back here immediately."

Pestilence lunged forward, taking the other by surprise as he wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug, "Thank you so much, Ret. I really owe you one." Retribution made a face, rolling his eye lights, "Of course. You can return the favor now by letting go of me though, Pest." Watching the two speak, Conquest smiled softly to herself, looking back to War's sleeping face after a moment; she'd be alright. With a future as gloriously designed as hers, she had nothing to be worried about.

Conquest was jolted out of her thoughts, letting out a soft, surprised squeak as she found herself now trapped in Pest's arms as he tightly hugged her, giving his thanks for her help. The look on her face softened and she smiled, returning the hug and gently patting his back. Pulling away from the hug and letting her go once her grip began to slacken, Pest watched as she shortcutted away, likely returning to whatever she'd been doing before Ret went to get her.

Pestilence carefully scooped up his soulmate, granting a soft goodbye to Retribution before he used a shortcut as well, taking himself and War back to her room. As he delicately laid her down on her bed, his magic flared up briefly, just enough to switch off her bedroom light and close the door. Tugging off his sash, belt, and hoodie, he laid down beside War, cuddling close to her and pressing a soft kiss to her head, one of his hands finding hers and instinctively intertwining their fingers.

Again, his magic flared up, this time to pull the covers up over both of them, and as a small, fuzzy head emerged from beneath the collar of his shirt, he was unphased. He watched as the rodent climbed out from under his shirt, making it's way to War's pillow and sniffing her for a moment, before it curled up into a ball, pressed into the crook of her neck. As it made itself comfortable, Pestilence snorted softly in amusement, his voice low, "Looks like you love her too, huh?"

The rat looked up at him and squeaked, and he rolled his eye lights, "Yeah yeah, of course you do. Do you really wanna sleep right there though?" He paused, letting go of War's hand to delicately tap the rat's side, just above it's slightly swollen belly before continuing, "Ya got babies in there, bud. You wouldn't wanna risk getting squished or anything, would ya?" The rat's tail curled tighter around itself and it squeaked again, as if in confirmation.

He let out a deep sigh, moving his hand a bit and gently petting it's head, "If you say so, fuzzball. I'll try not to let you get squished, but I can't promise anything."

Seated at his desk, Retribution silently filled out a page in his journal, paying no mind to the cloaked figure that stood behind him. As the figure drew closer and he felt the air around him grow colder, Ret sighed deeply, setting his own down, "Entering without announcing our presence, are we? How rude. I would've thought the god of death would have better manners."

The figure in question snorted in mock amusement, "Yeah, I know. You don't think the stunt you pulled earlier wasn't rude either though? Not even a little bit?" Retribution spun to face the other rider, "No? She needed my help. I couldn't afford to waste time tracking you down, Death. If I waited, she could've very well gone back to the walking sludge again."

Death shrugged, tilting his head, "That may be so, but it's not an excuse. You wouldn't have to come find me. Just use your phone to text me, and I'll be here in a flash." The former prince scoffed, "Assuming you're not busy trying to get into your partner's pants again."

The god of death narrowed his sockets in mild annoyance, "Hey, if you were around since the dawn of existence and were unable to touch anyone, you'd know my struggle, ok? Don't bring my sex life into this, virgin." Retribution's entire face flushed a bright shade of cyan and he flinched, staring at the other with wide eyes. Seeming pleased with his reaction, Death laughed softly, shaking his head, "Anyway, that number you pulled with Connie and Pest's help. How'd you pull it off? It seemed like something you've done before."

Retribution crossed his arms over his chest, visibly irritated, "What would you do if I said I had no idea what I was doing? Ground me? Maybe exile me again, even?" Death rolled his single visible eye light, completely unphased, "Oh, don't be ridiculous. I most definitely am not ok with that, but it's not worth exhiling you. Just know that I don't approve of you doing things like that. Not when they could have a direct impact on someone else's soul."

The former prince grumbled something to himself, turning his back to Death as he returned to the unfinished entry in his journal. Death arched a brow bone and sighed, reaching out to grip the back of the chair and tug the other back away from his desk. Retribution blinked, his confusion quickly transforming into anger, "Hey, what the hell are you-?" He found his chair being spun around, it's backing shoved against the edge of his desk. Feeling his spine start to ache as it was also pressed to the edge of the desk, he scowled as Death leaned down, only mere inches separating them as he mumbled lowly, "If you don't know what you're doing, you best not do anything like that again. If you decide to ignore me like you've done before, I'll end you. You only continued to exist because I allowed it. Don't you forget that, Nightmare."

Retribution froze upon hearing his old name, his sockets widening the smallest bit. Fear very briefly flickered across his face and Death stepped back away from him, feeling satisfied, "Until you can prove that you're capable of acting responsibly and listening, controlling yourself, and keeping your emotions in check, you're on guardian angel duty. I'll allow you to keep your Morningstar, but the first time you step out of line, it's mine, and that's not up for debate."

The smaller of the two immediately despised the way his body had begun to tremble, and he swallowed his pride, his voice soft, "...Why are you punishing me? I did a good thing. I helped War. Saved her life, potentially. Is that suddenly a crime?" Death tilted his head, watching the other closely, "No. I never said it was a crime, Ret. You're receiving punishment because you did something that held way too much of a potential risk. What if it had backfired? What if it killed her? You had no idea what you were doing, and therefore, you could've been risking her life. I don't want that to happen again. Not to her, not to anyone else in this group."

He materialized a small black book, offering it to Retribution, "Take this. Like I said, you're on guardian angel duty, and these are your assignments. Take each of them seriously, please." Hesitantly accepting the book, Retribution nodded slowly, his voice soft, "Fine, whatever..." The god of death sighed again, gently placing a hand atop Ret's head and softly patting it, "Although I don't appreciate you doing what you did earlier, it did save War. You have my thanks for that. Seriously." Retribution scoffed, "Oh, please. Like you actually give a damn." Death hummed, "I do, actually. Believe it or not. I'm only being a hard ass because it seems like you won't listen to me when I try the gentler approaches. If you can agree to start cooperating with me and being less stubborn, I'll stop being so hard on you. Does that sound doable enough?"

The shorter skeleton shrugged, looking away from Death, "...Seeing as I don't really have a choice, sure. I guess it's doable enough."

The eldest of the riders hummed softly, pulling his hand away from Ret's head, "Good. Now... I believe you have somewhere to be." Retribution, though clearly annoyed, stood and made a beeline toward the rack where his cloak was hanging. Death cleared his throat, earning the other's attention and smiling slightly in amusement, "Your date, Ret. Your date with Famine. He's in the kitchen finishing up a few things right now, trying to make it perfect for you." Retribution seemed frozen for a moment, his cyan blush gradually returning as he huffed, "...I knew that."

Death laughed softly, waving him off, "Go on, dork. You can start worrying about your work later when you're done with the date and have had a little time to cool down." Retribution, feeling his soul pounding faster within his chest, said not a single word more, simply heading for his door, tugging it open, and vanishing through the doorway into the hall. Death chuckled again, shaking his head and sighing, an amused, affectionate grin on his face. This group he'd assembled seemed to function just like a bunch of kids, and it looked as though he'd be the one that'd have to keep an eye on them.

#writing #four horsemen of the apocalypse #riders of the apocalypse #undertale #undertale au #pestilence.exe #retribution.exe #famine.exe #war.exe #death.exe #reaper sans #conquest.exe #nightmare sans

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thetorturerwrites · 4 years

Text

Puer Deus: Proof

This amazing artwork was gifted to me by @faestae-writes. Please do not re-use or re-post it without permission from them and/or myself. Don’t be a dickbag.

***

Captured / Hurricane / Sustenance / Liar / Scars

Summary: Of Gods and slaves

A/N: 18+ only. Physical violence; sadism; references to abuse; smut

Word Count: 5.1k

Day Six

It was the sound of his voice that stirred you, nudging into your gray matter and beckoning you back from bleak emptiness. Your brow creased, and you exhaled, uneven and apprehensive. You flexed aching fingers and toes, forcing the stiff joints to cooperate.

“Find them,” he ordered, his voice strong but low, “I don’t care how. Find them.”

Red-rimmed, puffy eyes broke open, and you squinted, the glare of the light cycle offensive and irritating. You grumbled at the very idea of bright light and struggled to sit up. As your brain kicked into gear, you took stock of your situation.

This was the same torture chamber, that was your blood staining the floor, and it was your filth in the sheets. Licking your chapped lower lip, you worked to put puzzle pieces together. Your Knight guard had brought you to these chambers yesterday, Ren’s chambers.

You’d slept in Ren’s bed.

Had he? Your breath caught on the idea that he had stayed with you. If he had stayed, what did it mean that he was still here? If he hadn’t, why had he let you sleep here?

Shaking off the unnecessary, relentless pondering of your brain, you rubbed at your eyes and hunched forward. Every part of you ached as though you’d been ejected into space, compressed and redistributed in the wrong order. You grimaced and shifted, slowly dragging your legs off the side of the bed, mentally preparing yourself to bear weight.

Drawing in a rough breath, you shifted your survey from surroundings to immediate. The state of your body evenly matched the state of this room. You were caked in dried blood, painted with hand prints, droplets, and innumerable streaks and smudges. Ren had cut open every one of your scars; he’d left nothing unclaimed.

Sometime in the night, though, your wounds had been tended, and you were now decorated in patches of surgical tape.

The memory of his hands, his scalpel, propelled you forward, scooted you to the edge of the bed. If you kept moving, kept working to survive, maybe you’d be able to outrun the repeated, vibrant images of his relentless torment and your body’s exuberant rejoinder. You couldn’t escape Ren; but perhaps, you could escape the memory of his effect upon you.

Pushing against the mattress, you bit firmly into your lip, thinking this endeavor was every bit as torturous as Ren’s blade. Your legs burned and wobbled like it was your first time to stand. The soles of your feet throbbed, but you made little, shuffling steps. Tears tumbled down to wash tracks into the blood staining your cheeks, and you pinched your eyes tight together.

For a long moment, you just stood there, willing your body to be strong, begging your stupid eyes to dry.

The door slid shut, and you could hear him moving back into the room, but you were trying too hard not to fall to give him much attention. It was taking all of your effort to stand and squeeze your fists together, too far away from the bed to sink back into its support but uncertain that your legs would hold you much longer. The idea of crumpling into a mess on the floor was less than appealing, but it was unavoidable, you decided.

You could feel him behind you, but you couldn’t look. He was a looming dark planet, the center of your universe now, and you could feel how fast you were hurtling through the Galaxy. Heat danced along your skin, and you shook your head, trying to clear away the flashes of his eyes, twin comets burning a bright swath of destruction in their wake.

You’d been so willing to let him end your life, but he hadn’t, and you weren’t sure how you felt about that.

You'd given him your ultimate prayer, your whole body supplication, and he had decided it wasn't good enough. He hadn't granted you the absolution you'd sought.

Ren didn’t move; and as always, it unnerved you so much that you turned your head to look at him. The pity you felt for yourself abated instantly. He was also still painted with your offering, ruddy constellations mingling with vast swatches and trails. His dark tresses were clumped together, matted with congealed blood.

The sight of it was jarring.

Why would he spend the night in your blood? Why hadn’t he washed away your filth and gore? Was it a war prize, some malicious badge of honor to mark your breaking? Did that mean the war for your body was over?

You were filled with too many questions and only one answer. Your blood on his body looked magnificent.

He was wild, feral, a savage, dogged creature they would tell stories about for millennia to come. The great monster in the dark.

The varying shades of crimson and obsidian framed his face and his body as though he had been carved directly from the middle of a volcano, white hot in the center bleeding outwards to ruddy and then midnight black.

But it was his eyes that captivated you, as always. His greedy gaze slid over you, roving around bruised curves and raised scratches. He lingered on the bloody palm print on your breast, and it tightened for him obediently. His eyes raked down to your thighs, and you stopped breathing.

You were trapped by the promise of brutality and lust you saw there.

Ashamed of the way you'd reacted to him, the way you were still reacting to him, you shied away from his stare, dizzy and struggling to stay upright. Your insides were twisted, your equilibrium was thrown off as though you’d been pushed too far out of his gravitational field. You were tumbling into anxious awareness, your brain firing off question after question.

What could you offer that hunger in return when what you'd already given hadn’t been enough? What else were you expected to produce when the sum total of everything you were had been rejected, discarded?

Broken and battered, you were nothing short of empt--

"Beautiful," he cut off your thought.

It was soft, nearly under his breath. You snorted louder than you intended and shook your head, completely disbelieving. Beautiful? Riddled with bruises and scars? You looked down at yourself, tracked with dried blood and surgical tape. Certainly not.

He was on you in a second, covering the distance in two long strides. His demanding hands took hold of your body, turning you and pulling you flush against him. His left hand slid around your throat, tightening and shifting your face to look up at him; his right hand dropped down to cup your backside, rubbing and squeezing the shapely mass.

"My bruises," he murmured, " my scars."

His voice was husky, ravenous, and he dropped his face down to nudge your jaw with his nose. What could you say in response to that? They were his bruises and scars now. You'd never think of them in any other way.

You swallowed nervously, pressing against his chest where your hands were trapped, fingers splaying. Your body, injured though it was, flooded with his nearness. Sweat dampened your brow, and a blush crept up your cheeks. Your thighs quivered, and you pressed them together to staunch the familiar twinge. Wanting pooled low in your belly, and your lips parted on a stuttered breath.

Your clearing eyes focused on the expanse of skin under your fingers, and you realized that this was the first time you’d touched him. He'd had his hands on you for days, but you’d never been granted the return opportunity. Stunned, you pressed the palms of your hands into his pecs, feeling his heartbeat. The existence of his pulse awed you.

Your Child God truly was a man, but he was such a man as you had never seen. He was marble, chiseled by the hand of war and kept sharp by a ceaselessly demanding master. There was no softness here, no gentleness, and there would never be mercy.

You grimaced, huffed out a breath, and let your gaze travel further to take in more of his alabaster skin and alluring, dark beauty marks. How unnecessary to decorate an already magnificent work of art, you thought, but how utterly perfect they looked upon him.

But something was wrong.

Your eyebrows drew together, worry playing over your face. Yesterday, he was pure and nearly flawless, his only injury being the wound traversing his face. Yesterday, he had been wholly transcendent in his perfection.

Today, his body was marred, corrupted by lines and lesions that should not be there. Beneath the russet stains, he was bearing the wounds of a different sort of battle, an impossible struggle.

Eyes blown wide with the memory of yesterday's accusation, you jerked backwards in his embrace, pushing his arms away so you could examine more of his body. Your trembling fingers ran over arms, ribs, shoulders, lingering on all of the pink and red scratches that now danced with brown freckles.

No…

You recognized the pattern you saw on his flesh. You’d been mapping that exact calligraphy for years. You were too horrified to cry, to be ashamed or apologetic. You reached up and swept anxious fingers at the hollow of his throat, tracing the too-familiar jagged lines.

And he let you. Ren held you loosely, one hand splayed across your back while the other continued to stroke your ass and hip. He watched you, dark eyes trained to your face, keeping his silence as you discovered not just his body but the effect he wanted you to believe you'd had upon it.

You...

“No,” he tipped your chin up, “I told you yesterday. You did this.”

You shook your head, pushed against him, and tried to step back, emphatically disagreeing with his crazy assertion. Ducking down swiftly, Ren lifted you over his shoulder, affording you the view of his newly scratched-up back, and carted you into the bathroom.

You flinched from the automatic light, instinctively burying your face against his shoulder as the false blue flooded the room to hurt your eyes. Ren outstretched his hand at the fixture, blew out half of the little halogen bulbs, and cast the bathroom in a less harsh glow. You breathed a heavy sigh of relief and pushed at his back, wiggling in his grip.

Ren set you on still hurting feet and turned you before a large, floor-to-ceiling mirror built against one of the walls. You tried to step away, not wanting to see the results of his ravaging, but he pushed you back into place, turning your head and forcing you to face your reflection.

As before, you were shocked by the woman you saw there. She was as feral as Ren, savage and shameless. There were dark circles under her eyes from overuse, and she was painted an astonishing array of colors that amplified every curve, accentuated every muscle.

That woman, you thought, was not surviving. She was thriving.

You still didn’t know what it meant that she was you, and you were too exhausted for much more.

When Ren stepped behind you, you choked and gaped at him in the mirror. He’d shucked his pants and pressed into your backside, wrapping a long arm around your middle, his forearm nestled beneath your breasts. He tipped your head to one side and cleared away your hair so that he could drop his face into that crook.

Your brow knit at the familiarity of it, recalling the way he’d positioned you exactly like this in the shower. He’d tucked the length of his erection at the crest of your ass, and he’d kept you flush against the long column of his body. Being fully inside his orbit produced an immediate, visceral reaction, and you shook inside his embrace.

You stared at the picture in the mirror. His wide shoulders and strong arms caged you, hulking in the background. His dark halo was dipped down, his face buried into your neck. The devil wrapped around you, come to claim his prize.

He drew in a deep, satisfied breath, and you couldn’t help but think you smelled like a barn. Hardly a fit sacrifice for such a demanding, devoted demon. He smirked against your skin, and your eyes widened impossibly further. You were so wrapped up in concern, you hadn't noticed.

He’d done it. He’d broken into the stronghold, and he could hear you.

Ignoring your shock, Ren stroked your stomach gently, slowly. His middle finger rubbed over your belly button, and it felt so incredibly good that you visibly shuddered. When he started speaking, you felt the vibration of it at your throat, understanding why he liked it so much. It was a subtle gesture, but it was powerfully seductive.

“There are as many ways to use the Force,” he said, “as there are species in the Galaxy.”

He raked thick fingers down your arm and encircled your wrist. Turning the inside of your arm upwards, he tracked the bruise he’d left there with his thumb before turning his arm up to show you his matching bruise in the same spot, and you stopped breathing.

“It is everywhere” he continued, “even when you don’t know it.”

He curled your arm up against your chest, and you took the opportunity to hug yourself, eyes watering as he kept on. Nuzzling into your hair, he pressed his lips at the very back of your neck while nimble fingers danced down the lengthy scar at your thigh, pinching at the surgical tape.

"And it is accessible to everyone, anyone if they can feel it."

Pulling you closer by one large hand at your hip, he snuggled his growing erection between your buttocks on a satisfied hum. His arm slithered up your torso, sliding against your sternum and between your breasts until long fingers wrapped around your neck to squeeze. You couldn’t look away as he shifted so that his leg slid against yours, the discordant but matching line peeking through his dark leg hair.

"Like you."

You were stunned into utter stillness; you couldn’t even breathe. The things he was saying couldn’t possibly be true. You were nobody from nowhere. You’d been sold into slavery as a child, and you’d spent your life just trying to survive. There was no Force sensitivity here.

“My grandfather was a slave,” he murmured against your temple, “and he was the most powerful Force-user in the Galaxy.”

I’m not your grandfather…

“Do you need more proof, puppet? There's plenty."

His hand dropped to palm at the tape stretching across your abdomen, squeezing the swell of your belly in his broad hand. He was goading you into turning around to see if he had a matching one, but you knew he did.

Ren hadn’t ever lied. If he said that you did this, you were going to have to believe that you did. Unlike the day before, he’d been with you in this room the entire time, and you’d woken to a flushing lattice covering his body.

You shook your head to his question, hoping instead he would explain how you’d been able to accomplish this miraculous feat when you were just a weaponer from the desert.

How...

“You used to scream into the desert,” he offered, settling his chin on top of your head and talking to you in the mirror.

“The only time you would let your guard down was then, and you would unleash all of your rage, your pain. You taught yourself to unburden all of that anger and hurt by pushing it out into the stars.”

You closed your eyes, focusing on the sound of his voice rather than his words because they were nauseating; this could not be real. Everything he said was true, though; and worse, him knowing those things meant that he’d truly been in your head, diving into your thoughts, memories, history.

"When that wall comes down," he murmured, fingers stroking the supple side of your breast, "you communicate the only way you can. They took your voice, but your body found a way. You found a way."

At some point during his instruction, you'd latched your fingers onto his thick arm and were holding it as though he would save you from this. The tears he had been building spilled over, clamoring down your trembling chin.

"You can make whomever might be around you feel what you're feeling."

The weight of what he was telling you settled; his words rang in your ears. You thought about the last two days and how your wall had been fractured on the first day, resulting in the bruises on his arms. And then, you replayed yesterday when it was all but obliterated and you had pushed out all of your outrage and suffering as you readied yourself to die.

Ren was telling you that you were Force-sensitive, and he was offering his body as proof to that fact.

For a second, you wondered why he was telling you this, why he was being nice. Wouldn’t it be better to keep someone who could literally wound you with their feelings in the dark about something like this? Ignorance made for better prisoners, you knew that for a fact.

Opening your eyes, you met his stare in the mirror. It surprised you that he was being so open, and you had so many questions.

Ren...

“Kylo,” he said simply, and you blinked, bewildered.

“My name is Kylo. Ren was…,” he paused, seeming to search for a proper description, “...a different man.”

Curiosity having been forgotten with this kernel of information, you let your gaze wander your reflection. You studied each line of black tape, each scratch you assumed was closed with a cautery pen. You lingered over bloody fingerprints, long tracks running down your legs, the pool of crimson at the juncture of your thighs.

He held you like that for a long time, quiet and still, fingers barely grazing different bits of your skin, giving you time to assimilate the information. Often, your eyes would stray to him, this package of tightrope composure and bombast.

This man was a monster. He delighted in torturing you, making you suffer and cry. You’d never seen a person so fully alive as he was covered in your blood and carving up your flesh. He lived up to every inch of his reputation.

And you had survived his wrath, the explosion of his violence.

Twice.

An appreciative hum vibrated against your back, and his face dipped down against your ear. He stroked the soft skin where thigh met groin, keeping you tucked against him with an arm around your stomach. He rocked his hips into you, pushing his swollen dick between your buttocks. Your lips parted on an eager gasp, and you couldn’t help yourself from leaning your head back against him, pressing your ass into his thrusts.

“You did,” his tone was low, “And you will.”

The absolute certainty in his voice chilled you, and nervousness trickled in. He still meant to keep you, the war for your body was not over, and this was not a tender moment.

You thought back to the floor he’d pinned you to when he learned you’d stopped eating. This reprieve, this cease-fire of suffering, was not a result of kindness. He was simply ensuring you wouldn’t be broken beyond repair so that the misery could continue tomorrow.

“Smart girl,” he whispered in your ear before standing upright and unwinding from around you.

A frown flitted across your face because him being able to hear your thoughts was disabling, intimidating, but you swallowed it down because you were simply too flabbergasted, too weak, and too starved to fortify yourself against it. Maybe you’d be able to work on it tomorrow; but tonight, you just needed to recover.

Ren ushered you through a hot shower, washing away the remnants of last night’s bloody agony. The hot water and steam lulled you into a spacey relaxation, and you put up absolutely no resistance when his fingers stopped washing and began to play your body like an instrument. You told yourself it certainly wasn't because you craved his touch.

He let the lie slide.

He plucked and tugged at your nipples until they throbbed to attention. He dipped his fingers between your ass cheeks and rubbed at the tender opening until you arched and gasped, breathless. He slid his fingers between your labia and rubbed soapy circles into your clit until you danced up onto your toes, and he pumped two deft fingers into your cunt just long enough to have you shuddering before lifting his hand to the water, washing away the bits of blood he’d fucked up into you yesterday.

And then he sat you on the shower floor, dissatisfied and scooted out of the way like furniture, while he bathed himself. You bristled for a moment, but it dissolved as you watched. You marveled at him, watching his impressive hands move quickly over thick arms and legs, coloring the water pink with every pass.

Ren towered over you, and he was nothing short of spectacular. Every inch of him was immense, battle-forged, and the scars that now decorated his body, your scars, only amplified the cords of muscle working beneath the skin. You found yourself wondering if he trained for all of those muscles or if he’d just killed enough people that they were natural now.

He tipped his head back into the water, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob. You let your gaze travel over him without reservation, and you followed each of his ribs and the dark line of fuzz that led down from his belly button to the thick patch at his pelvis. You were watching the way his cock was lengthening when you caught yourself, flushed at what you’d been doing, and looked away.

Your eyes caught on his thigh, though, and you blinked. He’d gone to great lengths to prove to you that he was wearing all of your bruises, but the memory of those at your thighs had escaped you entirely. Recalling the way his mouth had claimed your skin, you grazed at your thigh, poking your fingernail into the flourishing purple.

Before you could stop yourself, you reached out and brushed your fingertips against the discoloration on his skin, thinking it was so out of place.

Ren had stopped washing, hands folded behind his neck, and was staring down at you. His abdomen was clenched tight, his skin was flushing a lovely shade of pink, and his nose was red from the hot water. Something you couldn’t name punched up through your lungs leaving you breathless.

You weren’t sorry. How could you be sorry when you hadn’t known it was you?

But seeing something of you, this intimate mark of yours, on this man’s body stirred something primal and moved you to act. The rational part of you screamed that you should stop, but the part of you hungering for this beast propelled you onto your knees before him, wanting some part of the bruise to actually be yours.

Your eyes weren’t drawn to his cock, swollen with arousal and standing proud inches from your face. Instead, your stare fixed upon his thigh, fingers tracing it again lightly.

You looked up at him, the question unnecessary because he certainly already knew what was in your mind. He nodded once, barely perceptible, giving you the permission you sought. Licking your lips, you readied and focused upon your target.

He hissed when your quivering lips connected with his leg, your nose rubbing into the softer, upper thigh hair. You trembled, thinking surely you had gone insane, but you licked at the soapy skin anyways, roaming the circumference of his bite mark with your tongue tip. You glanced up at him to find him watching you intently, his stare delicious and wanting.

Ren nudged your knees apart with his foot, spreading your thighs further so he could look down at the bites he’d left you with, evidence of his viciousness. He was pleased with himself, with his handiwork, and it rumbled up through his chest.

When you followed his eyes, faltering in your task, he wrapped his fingers around the back of your neck and pulled your mouth back to his thigh. In your periphery, you could see him wrap his big hand around his fat, neglected cock and stroke slowly. You burned at the idea that he was fucking himself millimetres away from your hot mouth and sucked at his bruise.

He hummed when your teeth nipped at the skin, and you reveled in the sound. It amazed you that you could make that happen.

With a lusty growl, his pace picked up, and you could hear his fist insistently working his cock, the slaps echoing off the tile. He anchored you to his thigh, fingers tight at your neck, and you purred against the skin. His breath was coming shorter now, and you lifted your eyes up to look at his face, salivating at the sight.

He was breathtaking, flushed with desire, dark hair shining onyx from the water, eyes heavy-lidded as he pleasured himself.

Emboldened, you inched nearer, slid your arm beneath his leg, and lifted him onto your shoulder, mirroring the very way he’d held you the night before. The same heat that flooded you beneath his lightsaber returned, and you wrapped your suddenly brave hands around his hips, tilting them towards your mouth.

Opening wide, you sunk your teeth into the meat of his thigh, drawing the falsely-bruised skin deep into your mouth.

“Fuck!”

He barked it out and tangled fingers in your hair, holding you exactly there while you sucked and bathed his skin with your tongue. His tempo was hurried now, skipping, and you growled against him, knowing he liked to feel your chest, your mouth vibrate.

Remembering all of the ways he’d tormented you, you opened your jaw wider to draw more of him in, bit down again, and turned your head from side to side, yanking and tearing at the, now appropriately, discolored flesh.

On a snarl, he yanked your head back from his thigh and slid his leg from your shoulder. You licked your puffy lips but didn’t dare look at him fisting his cock; you couldn't be certain you wouldn't beg for it. Rather you looked up at his face the way he’d forced you to look up at him that first day, suppliant and worshipful.

You were the hungry beast now, eyes wild and wanting, skin flushed and tight. He affected you in ways no person ever had, but he couldn't pretend you didn't affect him, too. It was a heady, heady thing.

“Open.”

His harsh grip tipped your head back, and you sunk your weight into your knees. You knew it was an inviting picture, your thighs spread wide, breasts pushed together between your arms, swollen lips parted and ready. You knew he loved seeing himself all over your body, and you wallowed in it, groveling for the way he looked at you.

Like property.

But you knew you were unlike any he'd had before or would in the future.

The sounds he made were sinful, incredible, and you yearned for them, desire dribbling hot onto the tiles beneath your cunt. His breath was choppy, and he was staring down at you so fiercely you thought you might burst into flames.

Ren’s hulking shoulders hunched forward, his torso curving in as he neared orgasm, and you moaned at the sight, the raspy sound swallowed by the rush of the shower and the pained groans spilling from above. Lost to the carnality, you reached out to wrap your hand around his calf, needing the contact.

That was all it took, the last bit of what he needed.

You saw the moment his body loosened, the flash of it across his face, and his shoulders eased back, hips pushing forward. For a second, he was trapped between anxious build-up and explosive relief, and he held his breath. His grip on his cock tightened, his strokes changing from fast and loose to slow and tight.

He erupted into a breathy groan as the first salty drops hit your tongue, and you squirmed on an impatient whimper, the taste of him overpowering your senses. He was salty, spicy, tart, and it flooded your tongue, sliding down into your throat.

Ren held his cock right above your face as he came, the inflamed, red-purple head barely resting on your lower lip. He squeezed and milked all of his release into your waiting mouth, chasing the last bits of release with low, gravelly moans.

When he finally released his grip on his dick, readying to pull away, your pearly tongue shot up to curl against the very end, lips closing around the sensitive tip and kissing away that last drop before swallowing down his taste.

It was bold, stupid, reckless, and so fucking worth it.

His eyes darkened impossibly further, and he snatched your face between harsh fingers, bent forward, and kissed you before you could clear his cum fully away. His tongue pushed past your teeth and invaded the cavern of your mouth, sliding through the salty mix on a satisfied sigh.

You'd tasted him twice in as many minutes, and you were sure you'd never be the same. It was magnetic, delirious, obscene, and you were scorched in the wake of it.

Gathering you into his arms, Ren reached back to turn off the shower and herded you back into the bathroom proper. In minutes, he had you dried and back in the bed, a tray of food at your side. You watched him pull on clothes, uncertain of why you felt the way you did, empty and confused, satisfied and pleased, defeated and victorious.

When he was fully dressed, he stepped back around to the side of the bed, wrapped his fingers around your throat, and squeezed until you looked up at him, as though you could look anywhere else when he was so near.

The gesture felt almost intimate now, his way of centering you always back to him.

“Eat. Sleep. There’s a guard outside. I trust you understand the consequences if you try to escape again."

You’re going to beat me no matter what; so, does it matter?

Your eyebrow perched up high, daring him to argue or prove you wrong.

Ren's luscious lips turned up at the corners, his amusement obvious, and he slid his indecently-long index finger into your mouth. Pushing past your hard palette, he hooked that finger and caught the ridge separating the roof of your mouth from the soft of your throat, sending you into a sputter. He pulled you closer by this crude latch and looked into your watering eyes.

“Indeed, I am.”

#kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren #kylo ren x you #kylo x you #puer deus

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sliptohk · 4 years

Text

Prompt #3: Muster

No huntress would ever mistake the twang of string as a shot released, though the sudden scream of pain that came right on its heels had Fen moving before a thought could form. The chitter and croak of the night quieted in response to the bounding miqo'te as she raced along those treetop paths the Lohro had marked out branch by branch, dexterous feet nearly silent even as the slap and rustle of leaves announced her movements through the darkness.

The source was easy enough to spot, Ahchaka pushing herself back against the trunk of a tree as tightly as she could manage upon one of its gnarled limbs, the scent of blood in the air from the arrow buried in her hip and the fluttering light from a torch held aloft by a leering pair below. A fresh twang followed by a loud thunk as a second arrow buried itself deeply into the bottom of the branch her sister was using for cover. An unwelcome thought wriggled into her mind even as that continued torment of the Keeper's kin sent her into action.

"Take a peek, kitten! Got somefin' ta show ye!"

Quivermen?

Unlikely, but even as her mind was taking in the appearance of the two, Fen had leapt from her perch with feet extended. Neither the hyur holding the torch, nor their elezen friend, seemed to hear the snapping of twigs as they tore into grey skin with her passing. They did seem to hear the audible crash of the tall miqo'te dropping the entirety of her weight on the elezen's upper back, riding him facefirst into the rocky earth. Her ambush had the desired result as the man holding that torch hesitated just long enough for the huntress to lunge forward off his dazed companion with a fist swinging even as her body lowered. Though certainly no warrior, the miqo'te's grandmother had ensured that all her grandchildren knew how to fight.

Albeit not in the honorable way of knights.

A heavy thud sounded as her balled fist slammed directly up into the hyur's groin, doubling him over with a gasped breath in a perfectly welcome way for the incensed older sister to snatch the front of his tunic. That fist turned into a grasping hand as she made no effort to keep her sharp claws from digging into the squishy handhold she grabbed between his legs, bodily lifting him to slam headfirst against an obstinate oak tree. Despite adrenaline urging her to action rather than thought, the sudden consideration that revealing herself was unwise forced itself to the forefront of her mind. Snatching the fallen torch, she hurled it out to hiss and bubble in the murky waters further out even as the two battered unknowns groaned and stirred. Slipping into their tongue, Fen spared a quick glance up toward the shape huddled against the tree.

The response was short, the hisses in their dialect coming tinged with pain, <West.>

Drawing her hunting knife, the Keeper sliced through the strings of those intruders' bows before stealing the arrows from their quivers without a glance. Scrambling quickly back up the tree, she swung herself onto the limb Ahchaka waited on, eyes fixed on the arrow sticking from her younger sister's side even as the argument she knew would happen had begun.

An angry rumble began in the back of the wounded miqo'te's throat, promptly ignored as Fen gripped the shaft between calloused hands and quickly gave it a rough jerk before her sibling could interfere. Though she kept it as steady as possible, there was no escaping the swallowed squeal of discomfort as it shifted the arrowhead with the snap of breaking wood.

<Calm. Calm.>

Slipping free her bow and quiver, Fen hooked them across her kin's back before turning to bodily lift her blessedly smaller sister up onto her. Feet shifting awkwardly as she adjusted herself and quickly tied Ahchaka's knees high around her waist with a length of rope, even as a fresh sound of pained complaint answered that unwelcome movement of her leg. As if matters were not complicated enough, the shuffle and cursing of the downed trespassers rose from beneath them.

Spittle struck the back of her neck as the sour response hissing forth, <I can just imagine how painful this is for you!>

Pulling Ahchaka's hood lower to shield them from scratching branches, Fen shifted about to get a good feel for the weight of the piggybacking wounded. Not for too long, of course, as those rough voices began again and she sprang back along the path she had taken in the first place.

"Where... m'bleedin' jubblies... where th' swivin' 'ells did that couerl get off ta?!"

"Ain't seein' nothin'! Light yer torch, mate! Th' boss ain't said nothin' 'bout this bein' Keeper lands!"

A detail filed away for later as there was no silence to Fen's movement. Her first leap drawing a warning creak from the nearest branch that swiftly drew attention from below, though the huntress had no intention of staying long enough to find out just what they spoke of. Powerful muscles strained with each movement, adrenaline running through her veins as she moved with only her steady breathing and the occasional whimper or whine from behind her. It was best not to consider that they had malms to go through the winding marks in the canopy, particularly since her legs were swiftly burning from the extra effort.

Huffing to herself, Fen began to sing lowly, just a simple tune Ze had written for them seasons past, once she deemed enough space had opened between them and potential pursuit. Intentionally taking routes across the waters to leave that fumbling pair lost in the darkness of the swamp, unless they were lucky enough to have packed additional torches.

<Dance beneath my light, o daughters, course within my shade. Though my face may dim and darken, my love shall never fade.

Wander in my name, o sons, that long and lonesome road. Ever 'neath my adoring gaze, you never walk alone.

Sing for me, my blessed children, mother hears your call. Live for thee, beloved, my chosen, with arms entwined stand tall.

Mourn with me those you have lost, but fear not your hunt's end. Know that those who once you loved, shall embrace you once again.>

An angry chirp echoed in her ear, before Ahchaka had the audacity to bite it! Flicking her poor ear away from a second nip, the elder sister let out a grunt. Or at least as much of one as she would spare given the desparate need for more air in her lungs.

There was a brief pause, before blessedly Ahchaka began to sing something of her own. Arguments and song providing a welcome distraction from the physical discomfort the two struggled on through.

<The bandit swore, 'this is my land', and shook his iron hand. Horned children cried, 'this shall not stand', and chased with burning brand.

But in her tree, the Lohro smirked, and drew bow until it creaked. It struck true and each one jerked, as it sank into rear cheeks!>

A breathy laugh escaped the huntress, pausing longer between each jump to marshal strength in her shuddering legs, <So you complain about my song, then sing about filling people with arrows?>

A faint snort answered, <Its fine if its people that are not me.>

The two continued back and forth as they always had, complaining about the others singing voice or choice in song. Corrected lyrics and the occasional personal jab to help them ignore the fact that Fen could feel her sister's blood running down her arm and Ahchaka felt sweat soaking through the back of her kin's back as each leap had her shivering and gasping for more breath before she sang and jumped forward once more. It was with great relief that they finally reached the final destination. Legs turned to jelly as they loudly scuffed and climbed until a plank came into reach at last. Digging in her fingers, Fen dragged herself up high enough to crawl onto solid ground.

Singing back and forth poorer than ever until their family scented blood on the air and came running to carry them to the sleeping hut.

#ffxivwrite2020 #Fen Lohro #Ahchaka Lohro

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dusky-dancing · 4 years

Text

Gift of a Heartbeat - Part 1

Summary: Once Sora learns the deeper meaning of Aqua’s protection enchantment on Kairi’s necklace, he can’t help but want to add more.

Length: ~1800 words

Rating: T

Genre: Romance

In honor of the birthday boy, I wanted to post the first part of this fic in which Sora and Kairi exchange special and very personal gifts for each other. Happy Birthday, Sora!

Enjoy :)

Update: Read part 2 here!

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Sora didn’t know exactly how he’d ended up in the middle of Aqua’s study, covered in the remains of failed spell attempts. Memories of himself arriving at the Land of Departure and begging for her help to craft an enchantment flashed his mind, but all he knew in the moment was that he had to keep trying.

He’d been restless ever since he’d found out the specifics of the protection spell Aqua had cast on Kairi’s pendant. It had briefly come up when they’d all reunited in Yen Sid’s tower, but the looming threat of Xehanort and the Organization had taken precedence. When the subject of her protection spell came up again in casual conversation and she’d spilled it’s specific intended purpose, Sora had squeezed the blue-haired mage into the tightest hug he’d ever given.

Many thanks had spilled from his mouth, though he wasn’t sure exactly what for.

For protecting her.

For sending her to us.

To me.

And now here he was, crafting his own enchantment in the study of a Keyblade Master far more skilled in magic than he was. She stood back and observed, saying that the spectacle was worth more than any messes he made.

“The enchantment you want is extremely personal,” Aqua had said, “it’s not something that can be easily repeated, and will require equally personal touch.”

Sora didn’t complain about having to do the actual crafting on his own. It wouldn’t feel right giving Kairi a gift that had been made by someone else anyways. But the repeated failed attempts, the sheer amount of literal blood, sweat, and tears poured into its assemblage made Sora miss the days of merely plunging a Keyblade into his chest for her.

Atleast he had an excuse to be gone so long. He’d told Kairi that Aqua had agreed to train him in high level magic, and he technically wasn’t lying. Little did he know how much potion crafting and enchanting had become a hobby of hers.

Sora winced as he combined the base magical components with the custom ones once again, carefully stirring them together to the right consistency before adding another. With each failure, he’d made little steps further along and learned the various don'ts of spell-crafting.

Don’t let that sit still for too long.

Don’t breathe in those fumes.

Don’t get impatient when heating components.

To his surprise, everything had run smoothly thus far in this attempt. He added the second to last ingredient, petals of a bright red carnation, and the mixture turned an incandescent violet in color.

That was new.

He stepped back and watched it shimmer, steady and stable. Aqua perked her head up and leaned forward, eyeing it carefully.

“It’s ready,” she said. “Quick, add it now.”

Just one final ingredient, a simple drop of his own blood. He’d endured enough physical and mental pain throughout the past week that a simple prick of the finger paled in comparison. A simple needle did the trick, and he held his hand as far out as he could over the basin. His pulse drummed at his fingertip, and a thought crossed his mind.

I wonder if it will feel the same for her.

Despite the fear that something could go horribly wrong, Sora couldn’t take his eyes off of the red drop as it fell from his fingertip into the mixture. A puff of steam rose from where it made contact, and the concoction turned from violet to a warm red, though still just as luminescent.

Sora took a deep breath and pulled his hand back. The hue alternated between shades of red to the beat of his own heart. A beaming smile pulled at his lips, and Aqua gave his back a reaffirming pat.

“You did it, Sora,” she smiled proudly.

A relief-filled sigh escaped him. “Now I just have to apply it.”

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

He was already waiting for her in the secret place. What was left of the evening sunlight illuminated the cave and all of their childhood drawings. He was crouching in the far corner near the door with no handle, and she could easily guess which drawing his hand was running over. At her approaching footsteps, however, he snapped his attention to the cave entrance and stood.

He’d returned from training with Aqua earlier in the day, so perhaps he was just tired and jumpy. But something seemed more off about him.

“You wanted to meet me here?”

“Yeah,” He smiled. “I got you something while I was gone.”

Kairi’s heart nearly melted. Of course Sora would be so selfless even while training. “Sora, that’s so sweet, but-” she tilted her head to the side. She’d trained with Aqua before, so she knew her training regimen - and its lack of free time for gift shopping. “How did you find the time?”

He laughed nervously and scratched the back of his head. “I was with Aqua, but I wasn’t training exactly. She helped me make something.”

With a shaking hand, Sora pulled a small vial out of his pocket. It contained a luminescent red liquid, more shimmery than a normal potion. He held it carefully before her, and the hue shifted as it moved under the light.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, leaning down to get a closer look. The last few seconds only added more questions. The mystery behind it intrigued her, but she merely looked to Sora for answers.

“Can I see your necklace?” He asked.

She glanced down at the small jewel dangling in front of her collarbone. It had been a part of her wardrobe for as long as she could remember.

“Of course, but what about it?” She clutched it in her hand before standing straight.

With a deep breath, he uncorked the vial. His whole focus was on the tiny trinket around her neck, but he broke his concentration briefly to meet her eyes. He shot her a smile, his eyes filled with enough admiration to turn her cheeks warm. She still couldn’t handle when he looked at her like that, and she didn’t think she’d ever be able to.

He began, “Do you remember what led you to Destiny Islands?”

She glanced to the side, recalling their brief conversation in Yen Sid’s tower. “Yes,” she answered, “Aqua cast a spell of protection on me.”

His lips twitched into a smirk. “Do you remember what she said when she cast that spell?”

“No?” She cocked her head to the side. “Sora what-”

“She said that it would carry you to the light of another. That they would protect you when your heart was in danger.”

Kairi opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. There had always been one person who’d protected her heart. One person whose light welcomed her own in when others sought after it. One person who’d made stupid reckless sacrifices to save her. And that person was-

“Me. It led you to me, Kairi.” His eyes reddened with tears that she hoped were from happiness. She fought back her own, because whenever he cried, she cried. He continued, “And I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect gift.”

A few tears escaped her defenses and came out with a nervous laugh. “Sora,” she pleaded with her voice, knowing her heart couldn’t take much more.

“I made a promise to you, that I’d always be with you,” he continued, ��and I wanted to get you something to remind you, no matter where you are, no matter what you’re going through, no matter how far apart we are. My heart is with you.”

Before she could speak, he lifted his free hand to trace a sigil in the air. His fingers moved quickly, but she could swear they were shaking. He spoke an incantation in a language she’d never heard before, and the contents of the vial glowed. She flinched when the glass vial shattered, but rooted herself in place. The natural light around them dimmed. No longer contained, the magical red glow rippled outward and danced around them, showering her in sparks. He took one step closer, and she reminded herself to breathe, completely hypnotized by it all.

Gently, he touched two fingers to her pendant. His hand was shaking, and she would’ve held it within her own to calm him, were she not frozen in place. The magic surrounding her followed his movement and quickly converged on the small jewel. She drew in a quick breath at the sudden motion and squeezed his hand - when had he taken her hand? He gave her a gentle squeeze as reassurance.

After what felt like an eternity, the glow slowly faded. The cave around them returned to normal.

At first, nothing felt different. But in the still silence, Kairi felt the slightest little vibration against her chest. It was soft, rhythmic, and barely noticeable. She reached up to grasp the pendant exactly like she had a million times before. At her touch, the sound amplified exponentially within her mind. It had been faint before, but now it was unmistakable.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

“I-” she choked out, shaking her head in disbelief.

He looked at her with a bashful sense of wonder in his eyes. “Did it work?”

A heartbeat.

It quickened as she held it longer. With the way he was looking at her, she knew whose it was.

His heartbeat.

She couldn’t hold it in any longer and stumbled forward, throwing her arms around his waist and pressing her head to his chest. She had to hear for herself, and sure enough, the rapid beating next to her ear confirmed what she’d already known.

The cracks in the dam behind her eyes burst, shedding tears onto his shirt. His own arms encased her in return, and she never wanted to let him go.

This was real.

He wasn’t a dream.

And if anyone, including herself, tried to tell her otherwise, the proof was right in front of her. Even if their memories faded or were stolen away, their hearts would always remain true.

“I love you,” she whispered.

He tilted his head down and kissed the top of her hair. “I love you too, Kairi. Always will.”

She giggled and pulled back to look up at him. He’d been crying too, and her heart overflowed with more love and admiration that she ever thought existed. Her hand came up again to feel his heartbeat through her pendant, gripping it like it contained her whole life - in that moment, it really did. She cupped his face and brushed away his tears with her thumb.

“You realize that now I’ll always be able to tell when you’re lying,” she smirked.

“Like I’d ever lie to you.” He returned the favor against her own tears.

She smiled, not caring that joyful tears continued to fall down her cheek and onto his hand. “Alright, you win gifts this year.”

He smiled triumphantly and laughed, and her eyes shifted from his face down to his crown necklace.

For now.

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Thank you for reading! Part two should be out within the next couple of weeks hopefully! I’ll post an update if anything changes :)

This fic was born when @phoenix-downer posted some headcanons about what Sora and Kairi would get each other for the holidays a few months ago. The idea of them enchanting jewelry with each others’ heartbeats kept growing and developing, and now here we are! Thank you for being inspiring as always :)

#kingdom hearts #kh fanfiction #sokai #sora #kairi #aqua #romance #fluff #tooth-rotting fluff #happy birthday sora #sora's birthday #gift of a heartbeat #my writing #dusky writing #long post #I know Sora's the one giving the gift instead of receiving #but he's so selfless and giving #he seems like he'd get more happiness from giving gifts than receiving them #atleast until part 2 ;)

59 notes · View notes

solautumn · 4 years

Text

7. [ Hunger ]

“Your hand opens and closes, opens and closes. If it were always a fist or always stretched open, you would be paralysed. Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expanding, the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated as birds' wings.” ― Jelaluddin Rumi

The world was shifting once again. Scourge hordes began to attack territories in the south-central regions of the Eastern Kingdoms, and north-central regions of Kalimdor, but it seemed as though overnight, they spread more on a global scale. Silvermoon City was no exception, and it felt as though old, repressed fears of another Scourge invasion were coming back full force. The city’s guard numbers seemed ill prepared for the droves that came, and many citizens were bolstering their efforts. A call of arms came forward from the Argent Tournament grounds in Ice Crown, and Solarian knew something big was happening. As the fears mounted all around him, he tried his best to keep his wits about him. It wouldn’t do to feed the shadows that lurked inside.

Solarian was thankful for having come across Toadie and the priestess Emilia in the forest days ago. Perhaps the loa did funnily enough have an eye on the elf-- enough that not only had Toadie crossed his path for a fourth time, but this time brought the company of someone else. Someone who could sense the shadow magic that gripped the young priest as he slept curled against the gnarled roots of an evergold tree in the woods near Sunstrider Isle. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep then, but having avoided sleep for days, weariness caught up to him, and his nightmares came back with a vengeance.

Emilia had a commanding presence, and a firm grip on the type of powers that were at play. Were it not for her, Solarian wouldn’t have a physical visual of the thing-- a rider, she called it-- that latched on to his soul, feeding off of the energy between his strong emotions of fear and panic. The priestess’s timely intervention awoke him, and chastised the creature, allowing Solarian to get a grip on it where before, he’d only speculated that he was hearing some kind of calling to the grave.

Days later, in the shade of the Tirisfal forest where the veil between the realm of the living and the shadows seemed thin, she showed him again. It was a descent into the shadows he’d never explored before, like learning how to paddle-swim when all he’d ever known before was how to fly. Under her guidance, he commanded the shadow to once again spill from him and coalesce into the shadow fiend that he knew wanted to prey on him. Facing it, he banished some of that fear of the unknown, and gave it much less control over him.

The Light is always in my heart, but the shadows are in my mind. It’s okay for them to work together, just as it is okay for them to work separately.

It was difficult leaving his heart behind to focus on the mind, when his whole existence was tied so intrinsically to his emotions. What did he actually know about the mind? What could someone like him possibly know about mental fortitude.

But once again, his last meeting with Toadie echoed in his mind.

The only thing stopping me is me.

He was firm and commanding, shoulders and back straight as he took command of the shadow creature that sought to feed on him. It would do so no longer, but to banish it was to risk the delicate balance he held with the Light, too. He had to master this force and use it to protect. Light and Shadow were not absolute good and absolute evil. Those were labels given to them by those who understood little.

“What will you do instead?”

Emilia pulled the answers from him like weeds from a garden. They were answers he knew deep down inside but had never really given himself the freedom to think about. When the shadows hunger, so must he for something. Some who gave themselves to the shadows walked in the path of the Void so deeply that they themselves became Void. That was not what he wanted. To hold the delicate balance, he would feed those shadows the energy between the emotions of the wicked as their judge-- he would inflict terror upon them, and when necessary, he would be the executioner to send their souls to the other side. To aspire to be Justice itself was a heavy burden and a tall order considering his inexperience, but Solarian was not without knowledge, in spite of everything else.

︵‿︵‿୨0୧‿︵‿︵

When Toadie sent Solarian a letter, he knew this would be an excellent opportunity for him to learn something. He eagerly prepared himself for the journey to the humid swamps of Nazmir, bringing only the bare necessities to travel lightly. Dressed in dark green light leathers and a black cowl to hide his golden curls, he arrived ready for almost anything, although that did little to mentally prepare him for what was coming.

“If joo gotta problem wit blood, den maybe dis not be da test for ya... Or maybe it be da most important test." Toadie clicked his tongue and let out a soft huff through his nose. "Joo not be a child, so I'm not gonna be one ta treat joo like one."

Solarian had long ago tired of being treated like a child, and hearing that from the Zandalari was important. He was being taken seriously, and he appreciated it more than he could say. He watched as the earth moved around Toadie’s hands, giving him the answers he sought. It demanded retribution, and that was exactly what the Zandalari came here to do.

It wasn’t blood that made Solarian nervous. He was a trained medic, after all. Death was familiar to him, having on occasion had life slip away between his fingers after doing all he could to heal someone. Some battles couldn’t be won, no matter how hard one tried to mend a body, but the effort on wings of hope still had to be made.

But what was wrong, and what was right? When a life was devoted to defiling, destruction, cutting down innocents and boasting about it, of killing nature herself, when it warranted the killing of loa and gave way to madness that fed on the land like a cancer, was it not the duty of the righteous to cull them? Was it not the duty of a mender to remove a necrotic limb so that the body may properly heal? It was the shadow that would give him the power to hunt the wicked. It was a dangerous path, but one he would temper with his heart.

The Light is with you.

It all happened quickly. When Solarian gave in to it, when he really let it stretch its tendrils, he calculated a strategy that was ruthless and fast. A part of him feared where it came from, how he’d known it, why he hadn’t faltered as he froze his enemies in place with terrorizing fear before sending their souls to Bwonsamdi. He wasn’t alone. Toadie lurked at the edges of his peripheral vision, prowling and jumping in to shred through their enemies. His form was something truly to behold, looking more natural and true to him than the body of a troll. He lashed, teeth gnashing into flesh, tearing through sinew and cracking bone. The druid was a fearsome predator, a true hunter, and these swamp rats would pay in blood for what they’d done. Meanwhile, Solarian called down the Light, smiting his enemies as well as draining them with shadow magic, resisting the urging whispers to steal from the alchemy of the blood trolls.

It could be useful. That is not why we are here. Who would know? I would know. The loa would know. And which loa do you serve, little elf? I ... don’t. But you serve ME.

It was a test. Questions, temptations to trip him up. Solarian knew it was a test and that the creature would try to get away from him in the heat of battle, or see to what extent it could pull. There were two battles happening. One without, and one within. Outside, he let the shadow fiend feast, gorging on the terror cultivated from the lives being culled in the process, but within, he tugged at the reins of control. It was gluttonous, seeking to go beyond the boundaries of that village, and in the moment he was distracted, trying to reel the creature back to him.

That was all the distraction that lurking trolls needed to pounce like swamp crawgs on a lost rabbit. His roar only served to pull more, and Solarian froze momentarily, dread filling him. One winded him, striking him across the back with a spear and sailing into the mud face first. When he realized that Toadie wasn’t jumping in to save him, he gathered his wits, scrambling back up to his feet. He ducked down from their attacks and pushed back, clubbing with his staff and making calculated stabs right in the liver of his nearest attacker, eliciting a spray of blood as he moved to the next target. He felt feverish, his pounding heart like a wardrum in his ears as he moved. Muddy and bloodied, he wasn’t ready to die yet.

Solarian was nauseous when it was all over, huffing for breath and lamenting his broken staff, but he was alive and it felt... good. Once he pulled the shadow fiend back into himself, there was an unsettling sense of satisfaction he couldn’t quite name. Toadie got them out of there, though, and once they were safe, he ruminated on Solarian’s hiccup. Slipping back into his natural troll form-- a form that somehow seemed less natural to him than that of a voracious raptor, at least if you asked Sol-- he drew closer. Uncomfortably close, as if peering into his soul through those eyes that nearly crossed from staying focused on the raptor skull mask the druid wore. Solarian glanced at the carved and painted tusks, then back toward the dark sockets of the raptor’s mask. Was he truly prepared to become a hunter, to do this time and again-- a culling that barely scratched the surface of the sickness that plagued the world? Would this go against his nature, or was this a part of his true nature all along?

The priest believed himself to be ready. He stood as tall as his short frame would allow and declared his intent to continue, if nothing he felt emboldened by their endeavors that evening. Solarian knew he would fuck up eventually. There was no such thing as a perfect scholar. He knew that at some point or another, he would misstep, but he was ready to do his best to avoid said mistakes, to remember the feeling just before that one step that went too far, and to hold on to it for dear life. He was eager to learn more, hungry for it in the same way his rider hungered. He was walking forward into this and never looking back.

“Good... Joo be knowin' the weight of what joo do. Remembah dat weight... Joo be makin' mistakes, but from what I know dere be a price ta pay for de folks what lose concentration. Remembah dis lesson, little hunter. Joo be losin' perspective an de hunter becomes de hunted. Joo could'a died."

There was a real warning that Solarian heeded lurking beneath the smiling veneer. He certainly could have died-- and would have without Toadie’s guidance.

"An if joo did... Joo would'a been jus anotha body in da swamp. A failed huntah... De strong be arrogant an make mistakes. Don' be maki' dem mistakes, cause nobody gonna save joo. An if joo be losin' ta dat hunger what gonna be burnin' in ya belly? Den a bigger hunter gonna be takin' joo down. Dats how it works."

Arrogance could be his undoing if he didn’t watch himself. Sin’dorei were susceptible to pride after all, and he needed to learn his limits. Solarian was much more powerful than he believed himself to be, as evidenced by their hunt that night, but neither was he invincible. He needed to learn many things, and much of that training would come with time and experience. One thing was certain, however. He wanted to keep that hunger. Solarian refused to be the hunted. He was not the rabbit others believed him to be, and he would prove it.

🌱🌱🌱

(Toadaluk written by @myymsie!)

#Gore TW #Violence TW #Solarian Autumnsong #WRA RP #WRA Horde RP #my writing #c: Toadie #c: Emilia

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markedasinfernal · 5 years

Text

Happy holidays to @outofangband, here’s your gift for the TSS2019 exchange @officialtolkiensecretsanta! I will admit your request for a happy fic with Maedhros and Fingolfin is not really my style (I do sex, angst, and battles, sometimes simultaneously) so I’ve gone for catharsis instead. I hope you like it, and have a great holiday period! :)

before the pitiless sea

Under rain-swollen clouds, a sky stretched grey, wordless was the meeting of the high king and the lord. Their footsteps pressed heavily into the sand.

Alone and separate each had come to this place; the high king arrayed in fair mail of blue and white as he rode proud through his lands, master of forest, river and sea. A crown of silver shone upon his crown, upon it jewels were threaded like stars; they glimmered as he rode through deep forests of pine and ash. To the coast his path was woven, and where the forest fell away to scrubland knolls, fresh tufts of grass battered low by the winds, there he dismounted, and in sombre mood he awaited his companion.

Not far behind the lord came walking; as a shadow amid the restless pines he slid from beneath their boughs, grey-clad in sombre robes. No crown or circlet did he wear; nay, his copper hair trailed free in the choppy breeze, and across his chest and shoulder a leather sling was borne, a cradle for his right arm swaddled still in cloth and potent herbs. Out into emptiness he came, out from the grasping shade, until both companions were met, and together there they stood a moment.

For so came to pass the meeting of Fingolfin, High King of the Noldor, and Maedhros son of Fëanor, upon the desolate coast unravelled; the wide sands swept away to the north and south, and before them the bitter sea. Iron-grey and restless there it moiled, waves capped with foam broke and fizzed upon the silvery sand, and drew back again, unto the faint horizon ceaseless. Together they stood still and listened, to the roar of the waves, to the ache of it in their hearts, and together silently they walked on, onto that empty beach, before the pitiless sea.

Onwards they wandered, each wrapped within his own solemn thought, until at last the high king raised his head, and softly said, "I thank you for your company. You did not have to heed my request, to come."

"I wished to," the lord replied. Pale scars pulled taut across his lips as he spoke.

To that the high king smiled, and raising his face to the broiling clouds sighed deeply. "The sea stirs my fëa, and still I would look westward, and set foot once more upon the Blessed Lands so fond in memory and in love. I would turn back the clock to happier times, to merriment and laughter, beneath the light of the Trees undimmed in grace."

The wind groaned across the beach; it stirred hissing rills of sand to smash upon their boots, and the high king's voice hardened.

"Yet we weary few cannot stem the tides of fate. We are unmanned before it, and rudderless must sail through its tempest, beholden to its fury. For fury it has: in anger the Doom was pronounced, and within it we are bound. It has taken so much from me, from us, and the sea is its keeper."

For a moment the high king turned away, and silently the lord watched him as with wrathful eyes he looked upon the water, and spite curled upon his lips. But as though a sudden weariness had come upon him he softened, he closed his eyes to the horizon and said, "I have lost my wife, sundered through fate, and she is the one whom I held dearest to me for long years of my life. And thou hast lost a brother, my nephew, not least among many, and against whose heart I can hold no blame in the perils that have passed."

At that the lord looked askance; grief welled up between his ribs, and such familiar guilt came after: his heartbeat pounded a dull, paralysing ache through his chest.

"Come," the high king said kindly, "though evil deeds have fallen twixt our kindred, lay them aside with me now. Let us think of them without hatred, and without sorrow. Let us see them for their light, and cast darkness aside."

Together then they drew to a halt, and though the clouds reeled overhead they heeded them not; together upon that desolate beach they stood in friendship, though each was alone in thought. Who can say of what their hearts truly whispered, of what secrets curled within their blood, but to those that asked they would say this:

The high king thought of love; of a dancing maid, the spray of her raven hair in the twilight as she whirled in frenetic movement, as the giddiness of the ballad swept her away; light as the breath of laughter upon her lips. He thought of her quill scratching upon rich parchment; her inventiveness, her words, her great essays on philosophy, poetry, politics, the eloquence of her closed his throat as though he might suffocate in her radiance. Yet he thought of her grief, their debates turned to quarrel, the soured words and stinging differences; he thought of her face upon that day, when all the lights drowned out in darkness, he remembered her face when he forsook her, and he would never forgive himself for that.

"I wish her peace," the high king murmured, and as the lord looked to him, he saw that he wept.

The lord thought of tenderness; of a mewling babe placed so carefully in his arms, one of two, alike yet different, a shock of hair like flame. How swiftly he grew, in mischief unparalleled, in humour unmatched; sharp with spear and fleet of foot amid the hunger of the hunt, but never cruel: how he cared for all things that drew breath upon that holy land. Of trees too he was named elf-friend, among the onodrim he would walk and sing, yet their deep wisdom could not sway him from his doom. The lord would never forget the gleam of flames upon the water, hear his father's laughter above the crack of wood, and though he had turned away he could still feel the heat of that burning seared across his back. He chose to be passive, he chose to be silent, and for it his brother had perished and countless evils been set into motion; the grief that came of that choice would weigh upon him forever.

"I wish that they know no more of pain," the lord said softly; the winds snatched the words from his lips and tumbled them out to sea.

For a long while they stood silent, before the crash of the waves, until at last the high king stirred, and though tears ran still down his face, he smiled through them.

"Come," he said, "let go of sorrow. For we who walk upon these great lands will remember them in glory, and say their names in gladness. Those who we love are never truly gone; though Ulmo's realm should be sunderer or tomb, their spirits dwell in the Blessed Lands, and there they shall endure unwithered. And though we are exiled, cursed to wait until the breaking of the world when all is thrown down in tumult and ash, at least then we shall be reunited, and out of ruin there should come new joy, forgiveness and healing. This I know in my heart, and it makes me glad."

"Then it is a good thought," the lord replied, and smiled in kind, for it seemed to him that as he breathed anew the sea-breeze lightened him, that grief was smudged away; as the first droplets of rain drizzled down in fine mist some of the guilt pressed so deep into skin was trickled away with the water.

Together then they turned, and towards the forest at made their way back, and there parted in friendship; the lord raised his hand in farewell as the high king cantered away upon his great steed. Towards the trees the lord then walked, and beneath their boughs slipped away, silver amid the deepening shade.

Behind them both, the sea rolled on, the waves were unchanged, and the rain wiped smooth their footprints from the sand until they were no more.

#tss2019 #maedhros #fingolfin #silmarillion #outofangband #my writing #i hope you like it - fingolfin isn't really my guy but i tried my best!!#also i love a rainy beach so the setting was super fun for me to write hehe

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monstersandmaw · 6 years

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Male reptilian fae (Adan) x female reader (nsfw)

This was a commission from a lovely patron, who wanted something from my Fae Realm, with a male reptilian monster and a female reader. In addition to that, they wanted there to be an older female relative of the reader who has a past with a fae that has made her somewhat jaded towards their kind... I picture Adan like an Argonian from the Elder Scrolls, but with features like a marine iguana.

Ok, without further ado, here’s 8000+ words for you.

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

The moment you stepped down at the quaint little coaching station, with its white awnings and dangling baskets full of colourful geraniums, you had to smile. From year to year, it never changed. The horses’ hooves clattered on the flagstones as the stagecoach rattled off to the next little town on its route, and you moved briefly into the shade of the stone coach house for a moment to escape the searing heat of summer. Carriages were never exactly your favourite way to travel, but it was really the only feasible way to visit your mother’s older sister all the way out here.

The coast road lay like a dusty white ribbon at your feet as you wound your way through the buzzing meadows on either side. After perhaps three miles, you took a sharp fork right, through a copse of oaks and beech which offered some blessed relief from the baking sun. A flash of rich, sapphire blue up ahead and the tang of salt in the air, along with the wheeling, calling gulls, announced that you were almost there. Aunt Ellen lived alone, her humble cottage sitting within a stone’s throw of the sea, right atop gleaming limestone cliffs. It must be bleak in winter, with storms thrashing the coastline, but in summer it was a haven, with the clifftop breezes cooling the air just enough to make it pleasant.

After perhaps another ten minutes of walking, pausing only to rearrange your grip on the handle of your weighty bag to stop it bashing you on the back of the legs as you walked, you rounded an old standing stone and glimpsed the old cottage. Everything was unchanged from your last visit, with the herb and vegetable garden at the back, a beehive not far off, and heard the dull bleating of Annabel the nanny goat a moment later. Chickens scratched and bathed in the dust not far from the vegetable garden, and a few of them looked up as you approached the house.

Aunt Ellen stepped out of the front door and shook out crumbs from her apron onto the stone path, but when she looked up and saw you, she gave a cry and clapped her hands in delight. “Oh my sweet niece,” she giggled as you dropped your bag and scuttled up to her, laughing and hugging her. You had always thought that she was a beautiful woman, with steel grey hair swept back into a plait, and laughing green eyes, just the same as your mother’s.

It didn’t take you long to unpack and settle into the tiny spare room of the cottage, and once the two of you had caught up over tea and freshly made hearthcakes, she suggested that the you take a walk together along the beach since it would be low tide.

The cliff path was somewhat treacherous, but once you’d wound down the narrow, switchback path, the pale golden sands of the beach stretched along the coast for miles. Ellen had brought a basket and began gathering seaweed while you took yourself off down to the very shoreline, where the waves lapped peacefully at the ridged sand as they retreated. Little shells were left behind in their retreating wake, and you stooped to examine one or two of the more interesting ones. Your room at home had slowly filled up with shells and other treasures from your younger days, but now you had a little more restraint, tossing most things back to the sea where they belonged.

You soon fell into your regular pattern. You would help Ellen with the animals and her household chores during the day, and in the evenings, you would walk along the beach, seeing how far you got before you had to turn back.

It was an average kind of evening, the weather being just on the cusp of a change for the worse with a stiff breeze blowing in off the sea, when you headed down to the shore for your usual walk. The previous day had been blustery and cloudy, whipping the sea up into a foaming frenzy, but it had quietened down again for now. The sand was littered with debris - driftwood and seaweed, and the even the occasional lobster-pot from further up the coast - but in the shushing waves themselves, something was moving.

You froze as you watched whatever it was roll over onto its back, its skin shiny and glistening, its chest heaving. Your first thought was that it was a beached dolphin or something, and you kicked your feet into action, but you skidded to a horrified halt when the figure lurched suddenly upright and staggered sideways. It seemed at first as though the creature had three legs, but you realised almost immediately that it was bipedal with a tail. And then you clasped your hand over your mouth to stifle a scream.

The figure was utterly inhuman.

For one thing, he was completely bare of clothing, which revealed a muscular, tall, reptilian body, with a thick, crocodile-like tail which was now trailing in the surf behind him, and clawed feet that dug into the wet sand as he swayed and staggered out of the water. His hard-looking skin was a greyish green with darker green patches over his shoulders, and he had a paler, almost creamy coloured belly. Round, jade eyes blinked in surprise when he saw you standing there, mute with horror at the sight of something so incomprehensibly unusual.

“Hi,” he said in a calm, rasping, husky voice, revealing a row of sharp teeth, nostrils flaring. His pink, forked tongue darted out to taste the air, and then it was his turn to act surprised. “Oh shit,” he said in a rush. “You’re human.”

“What are you?” you blurted. You had honestly never seen anything like him before. You’d heard merchants’ tales of lizards and crocodiles in distant lands, but none of them said that they could walk on their hind legs and talk.

“Now, that’s a little forward of you,” he grinned playfully, “Don’t you think? I mean, considering we just met and all.”

“What are you?” you demanded more firmly.

He sighed as though heavily put upon, muscular shoulders slumping melodramatically. “I am a kind of fae,” he said. “Pretty rare, I’ll grant you, but honestly I'm rather disappointed that you didn’t work that out, but still. Never mind.”

A thrill of fear spasmed through you and you backed off, eyes wide, heart racing.

“Now, now,” he said, raising clawed hands. His fingers were knuckly and strong looking, with pale palms, the backs dark. “I give you my word that I won’t hurt you, unless you try to hurt me of course. Not that you could. Gods, I’ve never met a human before - you’re so… tiny and fragile looking!”

You snarled at him, and he responded in kind, baring his teeth and making the thick spines down his back and over the crest of his head rise up like the hackles on a dog.

You swallowed, closed your eyes and inhaled, and then said, “What are you doing here? What do you want?”

“You ask a lot of questions, little human,” he grinned, even having the audacity to add a dry little chuckle at the end. “But, since I am in your realm now, I will answer them. I think I swam through a tear in the veil between the realms,” he said, but he broke off with a hacking cough, and swayed rather dramatically. “But I fear I might have to find somewhere to sit down and warm up a little. I am cold blooded after all, and I’ve been in the water rather a long time.”

With another breath for courage, you asked, “Would you like to come up to my aunt’s house? You could rest there for the night I’m sure, and you could try and find your way back home in the morning.”

His round, pale green eyes narrowed, and you realised his pupils were slits, narrowed against the slanting light of the setting sun. “Alright,” he said cautiously. “But while my promise not to harm you and yours still stands, I will defend myself if you try anything. I know what you lot do with folk like me.”

“What? I thought your kind were mostly a legend. I didn’t know you could even get through the veil between the worlds…”

He snorted and began to walk towards you. He was tall, at perhaps six and a half feet, and with his impressive musculature which was not exactly bulky but which still spoke of raw power with his broad chest and strong, stocky legs, he looked more than a little intimidating. “You keep us as exotic pets,” he purred in your ear as he drew level with you.

He carried on walking towards the cliff path, leaving you stunned and, perhaps most surprisingly of all, with a distinct tingle between your legs at the way his voice had dipped and his breath had fanned across your ear. Had he cast some kind of spell on you already? Could all fae do that?

Over his shoulder, he called, “I must insist on offering you a payment though.” He waited for you to catch up, and then waved you ahead of him like a gentleman ushering a lady inside at the door of a ballroom; a rather cocky gesture for someone who had just hauled himself out of the sea, you thought.

“Well, it’s my aunt’s house, so she can set the price,” you said, to which he nodded.

He moved slowly behind you, and as you glanced back halfway up the path, you caught sight of him with his taloned hand over his ribs, leaning with his other braced against a boulder. When he saw you staring, he winked at you and said, “You try climbing a cliff when your muscles are as cold as mine, and when your lungs are still half full of seawater.”

“No, I’m alright thanks,” you said dryly. “Take your time.”

His toothy grin widened and he chuckled softly. He was oddly handsome, for a reptile. Grunting, he straightened and continued to slog up the path behind you. When he reached the top, he swayed again like a little yacht at anchor, but he kept his feet and followed you up to the door of the house. He hung back politely as you opened it and called out to your aunt. “Ellen! There’s… um… Can you come here a moment?”

The lithe little woman appeared a second later, drawn at a worried trot by the tone of your voice. The moment she saw the creature behind you, she shrieked and grabbed you, yanking you inside and slamming the door in his face. “How dare you bring a fae to the house!” she yelled. “Oh gods,” she went on, wringing and flapping her hands. “Oh gods. Where’s that iron poker?” she added, scuttling off to the hearth and grabbing the wrought iron fire poker from its stand beside the fire. “Perhaps he can be persuaded to leave with a gift?”

“Aunt Ellen, wait,” you said, trying to halt her frenzied panic in its tracks. “Wait! He washed up on the beach and needs somewhere to warm up and rest. He said he came through a tear in the veil between worlds or something. He just wants to go home, but he’s not strong enough.”

Ellen’s green eyes narrowed. “He’s not coming in this house,” she said. “And that’s final.” She turned around and grabbed a blanket off the old sofa and marched straight past you like a charging warhorse, making for the kitchen and grabbing a freshly baked bread roll. She stormed back to the front door, opened it, and flung the blanket and the roll at him. He barely managed to catch both of them, and before you could say anything to him, she had rammed the door shut again, bolting it and even dropping the bar down which she only did when there was a heavy storm expected.

“You,” she said, pointing a finger at you with eyes flashing, “Will not go anywhere near him. You will not open this door, do I make myself understood?”

“But -”

“No! Absolutely not. Promise me, child,” she said. “Fae are dangerous and tricksy with their honeyed words, but they will break your heart, I promise you, my girl.”

A frown tugged at your brows, but before you could glimpse any more of her strange expression than the glistening in her eyes, she had dumped the iron poker beside the door, spun away, and headed for her bedroom, closing the door behind her with a firm snap.

Hours later, you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. In the end, you had promised Ellen that you would not open the front door, and as much as you wanted to learn more about the fae, you were not one to break your word. The wind had died down and the moon had come out, painting the simple lines of the rustic furniture in your bedroom with a silvery light. Ever fond of the way the moon danced on the waves, you headed to your window and gazed out at the view beyond.

A movement in the shadows drew your eyes away from the sea, and you saw the reptilian fae sitting with his back against the apple tree in the little yard, one knee up, gazing at the moon as well. You heard his voice in your mind once more, and bit your lip. Curiosity burned inside you more brightly than the moon itself that night, and, without breaking your promise to your aunt, you lifted the latch on your window and clambered out into the night. Reaching back inside, you picked up the cup of water you’d been cradling in your hands and brought that with you.

At the sound of your footsteps on the dirt of the yard, the fae turned his head, eyes shining eerily in the shadows. He tilted his head and you held out the full cup. “Thought you might be thirsty,” you said by way of introduction.

“Thank you,” he said, bowing his head a little. Huddled in the blanket, he did not get up, so you approached him and let him take it from you with a surprisingly gentle motion.

His lips peeled back into a smile that showed his teeth but was somehow not unfriendly, and he drank deeply before returning the empty cup to you.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” he chuckled, resting the back of his head on the rough bark of the apple tree. You wondered if he had to be careful of his iguana-like spines; they looked surprisingly delicate. You rolled your eyes at his answer and he laughed again. “Of course. It’s not as if I’m trying to rest or sleep or anything…” he added playfully.

“I can go if you’d rather,” you said. “You just have to say so…”

“I’m sorry,” he said, turning to face you properly. His gaze darted to the house behind you, and he added, “Your aunt doesn’t seem to fond of fae…”

You raised your eyebrows and sucked in a breath. “I have no idea why,” she said. “She’s never mentioned the fae to me before at all.”

He shrugged. “Sounds like she got screwed over by a fae in her past if you ask me…”

“Something you know a lot about?” you asked archly.

A soft bark of laughter was his only reply as he stared out at the open ocean again for a while, but then he looked askance at you and said, “I’ve never met a human in my life,” he said. “I’ve seen your kind of course, chained up in the marketplace, waiting to be sold as slaves, but I’ve never spoken to one. You’ve got more spirit than any of them did though.”

Horror plunged through you and you took a step back from him, recoiling. “Slaves?”

He sighed. “Yeah. Look, sweetheart, your kind keeps fae as pets as well, and we think you’re pretty exotic too, I suppose.”

“I’ve never heard of fae being kept as pets,” you retorted.

He looked you slowly up and down and then snorted. “It’s only the nobles who do that. No offence, but you don’t look like you’ve got a lot of spare cash floating around…”

“I don’t,” you said flatly. “So you don’t have any slaves then?”

Another short laugh, this time more of a snort through his flaring nostrils than an actual laugh, shot out of him, and he rested his thick forearm casually on his bent knee. “Like we could afford the luxury of a pleasure slave,” he said. “But no. I can’t say I’m particularly comfortable with the idea of collaring sapient beings, and you, at least, appear to have the capacity for fairly intelligent conversation…”

“You’re an arse, you know that? And who’s ‘we’?”

“My sister and I,” he said, eyes twinkling at your comment. “She’s a jeweller - hell of a talented one if you ask me - but we can’t afford the finest materials, so she makes what she can out of what I can bring her. The fire pearls fetch the best price.”

“Fire pearls?”

“They’re a fae realm thing, I think,” he said, inspecting his claws briefly. “They’re these iridescent, glowing pearls produced by clams that live pretty deep. Took me years of diving to be able to hold my breath and withstand the pressure for long enough to reach them. The only others who could go so deep are tritons and merfolk, and maybe the selkies too, but they all tend to keep to themselves.”

You blinked. “I thought merfolk were just tales that sailors told to gullible land-dwellers…”

He shot you another wry grin. “Maybe they swam through portals like the one I found? Maybe they know about them and pass between the worlds all the time?” The lizard-like fae yawned and stretched, drawing the blanket up around his neck like a cloak.

“I should let you sleep,” you murmured.

He tilted his face up to look at you, and cocked his head to one side. “My name is Adan, by the way,” he said softly with a little smile before curling up inside the blanket and wishing you a rather more perfunctory goodnight.

You stood there a moment longer, stunned that he’d reveal his name to you so easily. You knew three things about the fae: they couldn’t lie, they hated iron, and they never revealed their names.

The next morning you and Ellen stepped outside together, but when your eyes went to the old, gnarled apple tree, you saw that Adan was gone, and in his place he had folded the blanket neatly into a pile, and on top of it he had placed a stone to weigh it down and stop the wind tugging at it.

As you approached, Ellen gasped and stooped to snatch up the stone and the blanket. She stared at the stone in her hand and whispered, “This is an adder stone…”

“A what?”

“An adder stone,” she said, eyes still locked on the large pebble that filled her palm. It had a sizable hole through the centre. “They are supposed to offer protection from fae magic,” she said, voice quavering, “And if you look through the centre, it is said you can see the true nature of a fae. This is no meagre gift…”

“How do you know all this?” you asked carefully.

Ellen sighed, seeming to age ten years in the space of that single breath. She shook her head, a wispy section of her grey hair falling forwards into eyes that seemed suddenly immeasurably sad. “Come,” she said, taking your arm. “It’s time I told you.”

The two of you walked along the upper cliff path and she told you her remarkable story. “When I was not much older than you,” she said, drawing her woollen shawl more tightly around her shoulders, “I fell in love with a fae.”

Your eyebrows sailed towards your hairline and you gasped in surprise. “You did what?”

She nodded. “He was a triton, but he had the rare ability to shift easily and exchange his beautiful green tail for human legs. We were very deeply in love. He used to visit me here, coming through the same portal that I assume your ‘friend’ found his way through last night. We were so close that I was… I was the next thing to leaving the Mortal Realm forever to be with him. He had a little cabin on a remote island, right on the edge of the Court of Water’s territory.” She looked down at her feet, stalling and biting her lip to keep from crying. “He took me there few times. It… It was so wonderful…”

Instinctively you reached out for her and squeezed her arm. Her eyes met yours and she offered you a watery smile. “What happened?” you asked gingerly.

“One day when he came to visit me he was agitated, and he tried to call it all off, to convince me that I shouldn’t come. I was heartbroken. He said he didn’t have long this time, and that I would be in danger if he came to see me again.” She shook her head. “He didn’t come back for months. I thought he’d just got cold feet, so to speak, but when he appeared again in the spring, he was thinner, harder looking, and he had new scars on him.”

Once again, she paused and steadied herself. The wind hissed through the lush grasses behind you and whistled in the branches of the sparse trees that studded the edge of the pale, limestone cliffs.

“Did he give you an explanation?” you asked in a hushed voice.

Ellen smiled sadly and nodded. “I asked him what he was doing here again, what had kept him away… I’d thought he had died or that something awful had happened to him. He told me he hadn’t even meant for me to see him, that he’d only meant to check on me and make sure I was alright. I lost my temper and shouted at him. His only answer was that it wasn’t safe for our plans any more, and that I would be better off without him. He broke my heart,” she choked.

From around the trunk of a twisted tree not three yards away, a figure stepped out into the sun, and the pair of you shrieked in shock as Adan moved into the light. “Apologies, ladies,” he grinned. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Only… I heard your story…”

“That was not for your filthy ears, you vile creature,” Ellen snarled, trying to put herself between you and him.

“Easy,” he said. “I swore not to hurt you. In fact, I thought I might be able to shed a little light on why your triton might have been so cold towards you, that’s all. It’s really quite chivalrous when you think about it.”

“You’ll twist the truth for your own enjoyment,” she hissed. “I won’t hear it.”

“Wait,” you interjected. “Surely it’s worth hearing him out? Surely it’s worth finding out the truth?”

“What would he know of it?” she growled. “Besides, we’re just playthings to their kind… Didn’t my story show you anything?”

Adan’s shoulders dropped and he lowered his head. His voice was hoarse as he spoke, turning his head away from you and gazing out to sea again. For all his blustering assuredness, he suddenly seemed disheartened, saddened.

“There’s a war going on in the shadows,” he murmured, voice barely louder than the wind. “There’s been a darkness growing in the realm for a long time. The Seelie and Unseelie Royals haven’t told us anything much about it - maybe they’ve told the Court Royals, but certainly not us low-borns.” He snickered and shot you a look before going on. “It affected those with weak wills first - wraiths and sprites with no real physical form - but it has spread to others. Whatever it is, it turns them rabid and savage, tainting their minds. We’ve been fighting it for a long time, fearing it the way you humans fear the bogeyman, but about forty years ago there was a surge. Waves of tainted creatures flooded across a number of the courts, including the Court of Water, the Court of Fire, Air, and even the courts of Summer and Day where the light is strongest and the taint weakest.”

He broke off and began to pace along the cliff edge, to and fro. Ellen went still beside you, and you watched them both intently.

“Many of us were drafted in to reserve forces to combat it. I assume that’s what happened to your triton. He wouldn’t have wanted you anywhere near the Fae Realm if there was even a chance you could be infected. Humans who are bitten or turned become…” he shuddered violently. “Something else; ghouls without souls… But it’s been better since we fought back. The Unseelie Royals were in power at the time, and they used their magic to contain it, at least for now. He should have come for you though,” he added. “He should have explained it all to you.”

Adan stretched and you watched the muscles of his broad shoulders and lean back bunch and flex, feeling your cheeks heat, and he released the tension in a rush and shook himself out. “Well, I think I’m back to normal now,” he grunted. “I should go home. That portal is deep, but I should be able to get through alright, now that I know where it is. Listen,” he said, turning to face the pair of you. “I could offer you two things in payment for your hospitality.”

“I don’t want anything at all from you,” Ellen snapped, and turned on her heel and heading back to her house.

Adan sighed and watched her go. “He lost a good woman when he tried to keep her safe…” he muttered. His jade green eyes slid back to your face and he smiled. “I was going to offer you a fire pearl, the only one I managed to find before I got sucked through that portal… or… I could offer to look for your aunt’s triton and try and convince him to come back here and talk to her.” He held out his hand towards you, and lying in the centre of his pale, creamy coloured palm, was a gorgeous, opalescent pearl the size of a peach stone. It gleamed a fierce gold, like the setting sun over the water, and seemed to move and shift even as it sat still in his hand.

You reached for it, but something made you pause. “Find him,” you said. “She deserves closure.”

Adan’s grin was broad as the horizon, and he bowed his head, closing his palm and making the pearl vanish with the magic of the fae. He moved slowly, taking a tentative step towards you, and scooped up your hand. His skin was cool and hard as polished leather as he raised your hand towards his face, and he nuzzled his hard, reptilian lips gently against your knuckles, letting his tongue flick out to give you a little kiss. “There,” he murmured in that harsh, rasping voice of his, “Our bargain is sealed. I promise to return if I find the triton who loved your aunt.”

Something in your chest sank at his words. He would only return because of the bargain. As cocky and flamboyant as he was, you had glimpsed a sweet side to him. After all, he could simply have offered you the pearl as payment. “Thank you,” you said, voice cracking a little. “You didn’t have to offer that.”

He turned away from you and stalked gracefully towards the cliff path. Just before he vanished out of sight, he paused and looked back at you. With one rather courtly bow, he bid you farewell. You waited there until he reemerged at the bottom of the cliff path and walked across the short stretch of exposed sand. He didn’t hesitate as he strode straight into the sea, the waves smacking against his sturdy body as though trying to buffet him off his feet and drag him down. He swam with the elegant side-to-side motion of a reptile, using his powerful tail to propel him forwards as much as his arms, and, hanging back just once, bobbing in the ocean like a piece of flotsam, he looked for you.

When he found that you were still standing atop the cliffs, he raised an arm and waved before diving down into the water and vanishing with a flick of his long tail.

“Be safe,” you whispered to the wind before turning and heading back to the cottage.

You never forgot your encounter with Adan, and by the time the wheel of the year had come round again, you had heard nothing from Ellen in her letters that spoke of either his return or the reappearance of her triton, and you didn’t like to bring it up. As you sat with her at the dinner table on the first evening of your summer vacation with her, she turned her green eyes to you and chuckled. “Oh child,” she smiled ruefully. “I see the same light in you that I remember from my youth. Whether he did it deliberately or not, you’re under that fae’s spell, aren’t you?”

“I…” you faltered. “I mean… I… I just want to know if…”

She laughed. “It’s alright. But here, take this,” she said, reaching into the pocket of her dress and bringing out an iron pendant on a leather cord. It was a simple hoop of iron, forge-welded to form a seamless circle, and through it was looped the string. “It will keep you safe. Now, off to the beach and see if he’s there. I should warn you though,” she said as you pushed back your chair, wooden legs scraping hideously on the scrubbed wooden floors of her cottage, “I haven’t seen scale nor claw of him in a year. Don’t get your hopes up.”

You nodded, and practically fled.

The beach was deserted, and you waited until the moon had sailed high in the sky before returning. Ellen said nothing as you latched the door quietly behind you, but simply offered you some herbal tea and combed her arthritic fingers through your hair.

Three more nights passed with no sign of him. Those three nights became a month, and you had only a few weeks left before you returned to the city after the summer. Eventually you gave up hope of seeing him again, and tried to convince yourself to enjoy the walks for what they were - a lonely stroll along the beach.

The gentle breathing of the sea was something you missed in the clangour of the city, with carts rumbling, traders and vendors yelling, and the constant racket of the crowds in tiny, ancient streets, but out here it was peaceful and quiet, with nothing but you and the endless water, and -

A voice yelled at you from along the beach, and you froze. It was a male voice.

“Oi! Human! Huuuuumaaaaan!” and then he laughed.

You whipped around and squinted through the darkness along the beach. Your footprints disappeared into the night, the lacy froth of the waves just kissing their imprint in the dark sand, and perhaps a hundred yards behind you, a tall figure was standing, his body gleaming in the moonlight.

It was Adan, you were sure of it.

Your heart leapt and you ran towards him.

He was laughing by the time you reached him, and he flung his arms wide and, before you could slam to a halt, he had stepped forwards and picked you up, swinging you easily around in a wide arc, all the while clutching you to his wet, cold chest.

“Oof, put me down!” you wheezed, and, still chuckling, he obliged.

“I didn’t think you’d remember me,” he said.

Easing the crick out of your neck, you stared up at him. “Honestly, I thought you’d forgotten about me too.”

“Never,” he said, his voice suddenly serious. “I could never forget you,” he said, bringing his fingertips to your chin and carefully tilting your face up so that it caught the moonlight behind him. “Besides, I made you a promise, and a fae never breaks a promise.”

You smiled. “Did you find the triton then?”

He nodded, blinking the salt water from his eyes.

“You must be getting cold,” you said quietly, trying not to stare at his naked body. He was even more beautiful than you remembered. “Don’t you folk ever wear any clothes?”

He barked a loud, happy laugh at that, head thrown back, teeth on show. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, we do, but we’re not shy like you lot. And in the water it’s impractical. Clothing could get caught on the coral, and it’s heavy - it could drag you down. Why?” he added, leaning down and purring in your ear, “Am I making you blush, human?”

The next word to come out of your mouth was your name, and Adan drew back sharply in surprise, staring at you.

“What?” you asked, now really blushing. “I know yours. It’s only fair.”

He tilted his head slightly and smiled. “It’s lovely,” he said. “Thank you. I shall treasure it.”

“Come on,” you grumbled, turning away. “Let’s go and find Ellen.”

The two of you chatted as you made your way up the beach and then up the cliff path towards the house. He told you of the Court of Water where he lived in a small fishing village on the coast. It was an inconsequential place, far from the grand palace of the royal court, but it was everything he needed. You asked after his sister, and his eyes glistened, grateful that you had remembered her. “She’s well, thank you,” he said. “Actually, a noble visited and saw her work, and she might end up with a patron and a steady income.”

“You sound very proud of her,” you commented, pausing at the top of the path to catch your breath. He, this time, was barely winded.

Adan leaned his lithe body against a rock and nodded. “Yes,” he said. “We were hatchlings from the same brood, and we’re all that’s left. We’re all the other has. Well, actually no, that’s not true,” he growled.

“Oh?”

“Magda has herself a sweetheart now,” he snarled, and you had to laugh.

“Protective or envious?”

He fixed you with that eerie, intense stare. “Bit of both,” he said. “But,” he went on with a sigh, shoving himself off the boulder and continuing up the path ahead of you, “I’m happy for her. Come, let’s make your aunt happy as well.”

Ellen was not at all, in fact, happy to see Adan.

But she tolerated him enough to let him inside, and he, to your surprise, made no comments about the simple furnishings or the humble life she led. He was actually the perfect house guest.

“I take it the reason you’re back is that you found him,” she said flatly after offering him a small glass of elderberry wine.

He took it gratefully and sipped, humming in delight as he tasted it. “This is beautiful, thank you,” he said, nodding. “And yes. I did find him.”

Ellen poured herself a slightly larger glass and sank down into her chair by the fire. Adan simply plonked himself down cross-legged beside the fire, as close as he could get without cooking his scales, and you took the only other chair in the modest little living room, opposite your aunt’s.

“I tracked him down, at last, only a week ago. He’s well, but he’s been living alone for a long time. Perhaps that’s a good thing though,” he added dryly. “Anyway, once I’d convinced him not to kill me - bloody hell, I’d forgotten how fierce a triton can be!” he added with a laugh, taking a gulp of the wine before continuing, “I told him my story, and how I had met you both, and eventually I managed to talk him round. He said he’d like to come here and see you again, but only if you want it.”

Ellen sat there looking positively thunderstruck, but after a long drink and a deep sigh, she nodded. “Yes,” she said, eyes shining with tears. “Yes, I… I think I would like that.”

You and Adan both grinned, and he glanced up at you. When your eyes met, something leapt in your chest. He was beautiful, with the firelight glinting on his hard skin, the curves of his muscles accentuated by the low, flickering light that seemed to delight in the shape of his unusual body. He cocked his head again, the very tip of his tongue flickering out, and you shook head subtly, not wanting to ruin the moment for Ellen. Not now.

“When… When can I see him?” Ellen asked hesitantly.

“He asked me to come and fetch him if you accepted. I can go now if you’d like?”

“No,” she said. “No, stay here for the night and go tomorrow.”

He nodded, and shimmied a little bit, shuffling around in front of the fire.

“You like the warmth, don’t you?” Ellen laughed and he nodded.

“It’s glorious,” he said. “I spend half my life in the water, freezing my bollocks off, so it’s always a treat to come in and warm up.”

You all laughed, and Ellen even offered him some of the fish she’d prepared earlier.

Your aunt excused herself later, with a final warning look at Adan to behave himself, and the two of you were left alone.

He stared up at you for a moment, leaning confidently back on his hands, legs crossed, tail curled neatly around them. “I missed you,” he said. “I know we didn’t know each other for very long, but I thought about you a lot.”

“You did?”

Adan nodded. “You don’t live here, do you? Where do you go when you’re not staying here?”

“I live in the city,” you said, and on a whim you joined him on the floor beside the fire.

The two of you shared the remnants of the elderberry wine, and you told him everything about your life in the bustling, noisy, dirty city. He was fascinated, asking about every little detail until your voice was hoarse and you began to yawn. At one point, whether from tiredness or from the wine you weren’t sure, you had leaned your head against his solid shoulder. He hadn’t objected or moved you, and the two of you sat like that, staring into the fire and talking.

“I’m sorry,” he said eventually. “It’s getting very late; I should let you sleep. Thank you though.”

“You’re welcome,” you murmured sleepily. “It was nice. I don’t think I’ve ever just… chatted with anyone like that before?”

He chuckled and impulsively ran his clawed fingers through your hair. The delicious scrape of the sharp tips of his talons against your scalp drew a deep groan from you, and you had closed your eyes and leaned into the gesture before you’d even realised what you were doing. When you snapped them open again, he was looking down at you with a very different expression on his reptilian face. His tongue darted out briefly, and his own eyes rolled closed.

“I should stop,” he said. “And you should go to sleep.”

Reluctantly, you pried yourself from his arms and took his glass over to the sink. “Goodnight,” you murmured at the door, and he nodded, curling up on the hearthrug like the strangest dog in the universe.

In the morning he was still there, curled up in a tight ball, the ashes of the fire cold behind him. You knelt beside his head and ran your fingertips up his muzzle and over his head, eliciting a deep shudder from him before he blinked groggily and smiled.

“Morning,” you whispered.

“Warm,” he mumbled, leaning into your touch. “You’re so warm.”

Ellen marched in a moment later and tutted at what she saw. “Stoke the fire up and heat that lizard up so that he stops spouting nonsense, and then go and check the chicken coop for eggs, will you?” she snapped at you.

Laughing as you extricated yourself from a grumbling Adan, you did as she asked, returning ten minutes later to find him sitting beside a now blazing fire and looking rather sheepish as he meekly shelled peas into a bowl with a deft flick of his dark claw.

“Don’t tell me Aunt Ellen has bullied you into submission already?” you laughed.

He flashed you a toothy grin and said, “Just being polite.”

Adan left not long after breakfast and you remained up at the cottage. Before he left, he had promised to return that evening, and this time, he would not be alone.

“Are you alright?” you asked Ellen once the two of you had watched Adan leave from the front door.

She closed it and sighed. “No,” she said. “It’s been forty or so years since I last saw Kaerio…”

You read your aunt instantly, and smiled. “He’ll still love you,” you said. “And if he doesn't, he doesn’t deserve your love in return.”

Her smile was watery, but she kissed you gratefully on the cheek and set about clearing the remnants of breakfast away, bustling around and keeping herself busy. In order to distract yourself, given that you could barely contain your excitement and anticipation either, you took yourself off for a long walk along the cliff tops, heading inland slightly, past the cattle farm about five miles away where Ellen traded eggs and handmade preserves for milk and cheese.

By the time the sun was setting, you were sure you were almost as nervous as Aunt Ellen was. The two of you made your way down the cliff path in silence, Ellen occasionally fussing with her grey hair, keeping her back straight and her jaw set all the way.

When you arrived, you saw two figures already waiting for you. Adan was standing not far from the reach of the surf, with another figure on his arm. He had just arranged a cloak around the figure when you and Ellen stepped down off the rocky path onto the hard sand, and the figure, who must have been Kaerio, brought a hand to cover his mouth at the sight of the pair of you.

Ellen ground to a halt, and it took a gentle shove from you in the small of the back to get her going again, but as the two of you approached, you saw that Adan was grinning. The triton was a handsome man, looking in this form like a human in his early sixties. He had long grey hair that fell down his back, and tanned, muscular shoulders. He had a scar on his cheek and a few claw marks on his neck that disappeared out of sight beneath the cloak.

Tears streamed silently down Ellen’s face as she stared at the triton, who was still holding onto Adan’s arm. Eventually Kaerio broke the silence by laughing, “I’m a bit shaky on my legs. It’s been decades since I’ve used them. Forgive me… Ellen…”

At the sound of his voice, she flung herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck, burying her face there and sobbing uncontrollably.

Adan cast you a look over her shoulder and twitched his chin at you. You read his meaning, and left Ellen with Kaerio to reunite.

Once the two of you had walked a fair way along the beach, you looked back at them and saw that she was leading him towards some low rocks at the foot of the cliff. “You think they’ll be alright?” you asked.

“Yes,” he said. “He wouldn’t like me telling you this, but he was afraid to face her again after all this time.”

“I don’t blame him,” you muttered darkly.

Adan snorted. “Your Aunt Ellen is a formidable creature, for sure.”

You punched him on the bicep. “That’s not what I meant. He hurt her…”

“He made a mistake,” Adan conceded, rubbing at the spot where your blow had connected. “He thought he was keeping her safe.”

“He should have talked to her,” you said, exasperated. “It never works out well when one party just acts. It’s not fair.”

Adan took a deep breath and looked down at you, pale green eyes gleaming. “You’re a remarkable woman, you know that?” he said.

“Oh come off it,” you said, waving a hand.

He caught your fingers up in his and kissed them gently, making you shiver. “I mean it,” he said. “And I have a gift for you. No strings attached either,” he added with a laugh at your wary expression. “I promise.”

He pressed another kiss into your fingers and turned your hand palm-up. As he trailed his claws lightly across it, a pearl appeared in the centre. It wasn’t particularly large, perhaps the size of a pea, but it glowed faintly with a light of its own, and it swirled constantly as if it contained some opalescent liquid. The sight of it took your breath away.

“I found this six months ago,” he said without taking his eyes off your face. “I kept it for you.”

“But what about your sister? She could use it to make something…”

“Maybe one day she will,” he said cryptically. “But regardless, it’s yours.”

Your eyes met his, and he let out a shuddering breath. He took your cheek in his other hand and bowed down, bringing his face close.

“May I kiss you?” he asked breathlessly.

You nodded, and he smiled. Mindful of his sharp teeth, he pressed his firm lips against yours, and perhaps a heartbeat later, his tongue darted out, tasting your lips. A deep, rumbling groan sounded from him, and he tugged you closer to him with a hand around your waist. You slid your palms up his firm chest, feeling the ridges of his armoured skin. He drew back for a moment, breathing heavily, nostrils flaring wide.

“Just how sensitive are you?” you asked, watching your fingertips trace over his skin.

He trembled and whispered, “Very.”

You smiled and said, “Follow me.”

You took him by the hand up a winding path that led up the cliff, and though you paused several times on the way up so that he could back you against the rock and kiss you senseless again, you finally made it to where you had in mind. A small grove of twisted, stunted, wind-blasted trees offered a little privacy from the night, and the moment he saw what you had in mind, he moaned and smiled. “Are you sure?”

You nodded and lay down, drawing him down beside you.

“I want to taste you,” he hissed, tongue flickering out again. It was forked and thick, and suddenly you could think of nothing more that you wanted than to experience that tongue on your body.

He undressed you carefully, kissing along your body as he revealed your bare skin, and when he finally had you naked, he pulled back and stared at you. “I had no idea humans were so beautiful,” he said hoarsely.

“Don’t stare at me,” you blushed. “It’s rude…”

He laughed and slid his hands over your thighs. “My apologies,” he said. “Let me make amends for my rudeness. Now, tell me what you like.”

His talons pricked at your skin and you gasped, but allowed him to part your thighs. He groaned when he saw you and his tongue slid out again, tasting the air as you felt heat throbbing between your legs.

“Please…” you hissed.

“Don’t rush me,” he complained, circling your hipbones with his palms and leaning over you as he took your breasts in his hands and kneaded them gently. His tongue coiled around your hardening nipples before he brought his sharp teeth to them and pinched you hard enough to make your back arch but not quite hard enough to hurt. “You make such beautiful sounds for me,” he added as he straightened and moved back down your body.

As he did, you saw that the slight mound between his legs had swollen, a slit beginning to appear, and in the bright moonlight, you could see that it was glistening softly. Your smile drew a low-frequency rumble from him that was halfway between a growl and a moan, and he dipped his head between your legs and laved his hot tongue over your sex in one slow, deliberate stripe.

A broken cry left your lips and you forgot about everything as he began to pleasure you. He circled you and sucked at your clit before driving his long, thick tongue inside you, his maw almost covering you as he stretched to reach as deep as he could. The sight of him between your legs, the feel of him inside you, the tension he built up until you thought you were going to burst, were too much, and after his tender, eager ministrations reached a crescendo, you came with a yell.

He held you while your back arched and your hips twisted, his tongue pressed against you, drinking down the taste of you, until you finally slumped back against the cool grass, oversensitive and still twitching.

“You are so beautiful,” he rasped. “Gods above, but you’re beautiful.”

Dazed, you stared up at him.

He was kneeling between your legs, and as he shifted, he moaned, eyes screwing shut for a moment.

“You alright?” you asked, and he laughed ruefully.

“That’s caused a little trouble…” he said, glancing down his body. The slit at the top of his legs was definitely swollen now, and it leaked freely between his thighs. You pushed yourself up and guided him to lie beside you.

“It’s my turn now,” you smiled. You trailed your fingers down his body, starting at his throat which bobbed beneath your touch, and then as you neared his slit, you parted your fingers and traced the edges of the sheath, one on either side.

Adan’s spine lurched and he pushed himself up into your hand with a broken, pleading cry. Smiling, you slid a finger into his sheath and he began to shake. “Oh gods,” he whimpered. “Oh gods, oh gods, that’s so good, oh…”

As his clawed hands dug into the turf beneath him, you realised that only with a tongue could his kind elicit this kind of pleasure from one another, but you weren’t able to think about much else for very long, as his cock began to unsheathe itself. With a pale, spear-shaped tip, his cock was ridged and thick, and apparently prehensile, because the moment it had slithered free of the sheath, it twisted and tried to coil around your hand like a tentacle.

Adan was lost in his pleasure as you gripped him and began to work his length.

He writhed and moaned beneath you, chanting endless rubbish about how good it felt and how he adored your touch and how beautiful you were.

Tentatively some time later, you lowered your lips and let your tongue just graze over the the pale tip. Without warning, and with a bellow to match, Adan came, covering his clenching torso in his own release, and barely missing you. His orgasm ripped through him so powerfully that he spasmed and grunted, his cock twisting in your grip as he spilled over his pale belly until he was utterly spent.

His head hit the ground beneath him and he lay there, breathing hard and occasionally whimpering while you stroked him through the end of his peak. Releasing his cock, you watched as it lay across his thigh for a moment before his sheath began to pulse a little, and it started to retreat back inside him.

Adan cracked an eye open and saw you watching him. “Enjoy the show?” he hissed.

“Very much,” you laughed, looking at the mess he’d made of himself. “Did you?”

“Do you even need to ask that?” he snarled, though there was no malice in it, only fondness and a hint of exhaustion. “That was intense. I don’t think I’ve ever come like that.”

It took him a while to recover, but when he did, he sat up and looked down at himself. “Now what?” he asked.

“I suppose you’ll have to go and clean up…” you giggled.

“You stay here and get dressed, and I’ll go for a swim then,” he said, standing up a little shakily a few minutes later.

Throwing your clothes over your arm, you stood, naked too, and said, “Or I could come for a swim with you.”

Hunger flashed in his eyes and he grinned. He scooped you up into his arms and purred in your ear, “Now, there’s an idea.”

Laughing, he carried you all the way back down the cliff path towards the now empty beach. He strode into the water after you’d dumped your clothes on a rock well out of the reach of the sea, and you gasped as the water hit your bare back.

“Not too late to turn round,” he grinned. “It’s alright, my fragile little human,” he added.

With a disgruntled and mock-offended little yip, you rolled out of his arms and slipped into the sea. It was freezing, but as you disappeared beneath the surface, you swam round behind him and grabbed hold of his tail. Trying not to laugh, you yanked it as hard as you could, and he staggered and fell over in the water, landing with an ungainly splash beside you.

He surged to the surface, bringing you with him, and laughed, “Oh, you’re in trouble now, little one.” His tongue laved across your neck, teeth scraping, and you moaned, turning soft and pliant in his grasp as it quickly turned into a very different kind of playfulness.

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get-your-fics · 5 years

Text

Violent Ends - Chapter Twenty

Atonement

Summary: Bruce Wayne is addicted to a lot of things to distract from his dark urges, but his addiction to you might only increase them.

Pairing: dark!Bruce Wayne x reader

Series warnings: Violence, language, smut, rape/non-con, stalking, kidnapping, underage drinking, drug use, torture, abuse

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The interrogation room was sterile and cold. The walls were stone, and the floor was concrete. I sat in a rigid chair, handcuffed to a metal table in front of me. There was one way in and out: a door in the corner of the room. It was locked, and I was sure that it had a deadbolt on the outside. The sounds of my breathing and the beating of my heart were extremely audible in the otherwise quiet room. The only colorful thing in the room was the dot of red light on the white security camera in the corner. Everything was impenetrable, built to keep people in not out, like a prison.

But I guess I was a prisoner now.

I stared in my reflection in the one way mirror. The scratch on my forehead had scabbed over, and I still had dry, crusted blood trailing from the corner of my mouth down my chin to my jaw. Brambles and cotton fuzz stuck to my black turtleneck, and dirt and grass stains smeared across my black slacks. My eyes weren’t so dark anymore. They were back to their original honey brown. I didn’t know if anyone was on the other side of the mirror looking in, but if there was, I wondered what they thought of me. Did they see a beaten up rich boy who lost his head at some point along the way? Or did they see a monster, all of the horrid and terrible things he had done written all over his face?

The turning of the lock on the door sounded like a gunshot in the deadly silent room. My head snapped to the door, and I waited with bated breath as it slowly creaked open. All the air left my lungs as your form filled the doorway. You looked completely different from when I had last seen you. Your hair was well-groomed and glossy. You wore Louboutins, a black pant suit, and a white blouse underneath. Your signature diamond necklace encircled your neck. You stared at me with wide eyes, like I could break out of my handcuffs and pounce on you at any moment. You didn’t move from the doorway.

“(Y/N),” I breathed out, a small smile on my face. “You came to see me.”

You gripped the doorframe with your hands and clenched your jaw. “I don’t have much time. I slipped an officer a hundred to get me in here.”

My heart fluttered in my chest at your words. Could it be possible that you still felt something for me, even after everything that happened? I didn’t say anything as you stepped one foot into the room like the floor was molten lava. When you didn’t burn up, you closed the door behind you and crossed the room to the metal chair across from me. You pulled it out and sat down, keeping a comfortable amount of distance between us.

I grinned. I couldn’t believe you were here, sitting across from me. “I confessed,” I admitted to you. “I told them everything, everything that happened, everything I did to you.”

“I know.” You narrowed your eyes at me. “You pleaded guilty so you could get a plea bargain for six months in prison.”

My jaw dropped. “That is not true,” I profusely denied. “I did it so that I could be punished for everything I did to you. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“Well, how sweet it is of you to think of me after all the months you spent torturing me nonstop.” You leaned back in the chair and folded your arms over your chest. “You must have some pretty good lawyers if they can get you off with six months for kidnapping, raping, and torturing a woman.” “I can’t help that. They wanted to keep the whole matter discreet for the sake of the company. I thought it was the right thing to do.”

You scoffed. “For you,” you mumbled under your breath, rolling your eyes.

I furrowed my thick brows. “I’m doing this for you.”

“What are you talking about? Everything up to this point has been because of you! All of this is about you!” Your voice bounced off of the stone walls. “You even want to be punished because it’s what you think I want, so you can feel better about yourself.”

“If you don’t want me to be locked up, then what do you want?” I asked.

You pressed your hands flat on the metal table and leaned forward. “I want you to rot in hell,” you hissed. “I want you to be torn to shreds and consumed in fire.”

I raised a brow. “Is that really what you want?”

Your gaze flickered down to the table as your rage simmered. “No.” Your tone was suddenly soft and quiet. “I’m not like you. I don’t take lives, especially not those of innocent people who didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I haven’t killed anyone.” A small smirk tugged at the corners of my lips. “Brant Jones was the result of a mugging, and Grace Blomdahl is missing for all anyone knows. Her body hasn’t been recovered, and you know what they say: no corpse, no crime.”

Your hands balled into fists on the table, your knuckles turning white. “You’re so pleased with yourself, aren’t you? So smug.”

My smile vanished. “I’m not. If you’re worried about me not suffering, I will, gorgeous. Every single day I’m without you, I’ll be suffering.” I shook my head solemnly. “I’ll never be able to forget you, never be able to get you off my mind.”

“I’ll never be able to forget you either, because every time I look in the mirror, I’ll see these.” You pulled your suit jacket down your arms and pushed up the sleeves of your blouse over your elbows, revealing raised, little cuts littered across your skin. Some were fainter than others, while some were still shades of red and pink. They ran all the way up your arms to your neck, and I knew you had many more concealed underneath all your layers of clothing. “These scars will never fade. They will always be here, a reminder of all the shit you put me through.” Tears welled in your eyes.

I stared at you, stunned. I tried to feel guilt or shame, but pride bloomed within my chest at seeing the evidence of what I had done to you. Now, no matter how much you tried, you’d be forced to remember me. I would always be with you, whether you liked it or not. “I still love you,” I whispered.

“Don’t,” your voice was sharp like a knife, “don’t say that to me. You don’t love me. My mom loves me, Brant loved me. You don’t love me.”

“Do you still really believe that?” I questioned. “Why else do you think I would’ve done the things I did?” I tilted my head to the side, studying you intently. “I still remember when you said it to me, you know.”

“Because you made me!” you fired back.

The handcuffs rattled as I moved my hands. “I gave you everything.”

“You took everything from me!” The chair scraped against the concrete as you halfway rose out of it and slammed your hands down on the metal table. The bang echoed inside the small room. Your eyes widened as you stared down at me, and you drew in a sharp breath. “I’m filing a restraining order against you.”

My heart sank to my stomach at your words. I slumped in my chair, my back arching inwardly. My stomach hollowed out as my spine curved. I kicked my legs out in front of me. It felt like all the energy had been sucked out of me. It was just a piece of paper, but it made all the difference.

You sat back down, adjusting your blouse and suit jacket. “I hope you’ll abide by it and keep your distance after you get out of prison, or it’ll be pretty worthless and a waste of my time.”

“I will.” I nodded. “I will. I promise.” And when had I never kept a promise to you?

“Then take a good look. This is the last time you’ll ever see me.” And even though your image was burned into my brain, I did what you said. I raked over the violet bags under your bloodshot eyes and your lips pulled taut into a straight line, committing each detail to memory. Even dead tired, you looked beautiful. How could I ever get you out of my system?

“Goodbye, gorgeous,” I breathed out, my voice small.

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Don’t call me that.”

You stood from the chair and went over to the door. You wrenched it open and stepped into the hall just as Alfred approached. You both made eye contact as you passed each other, exchanging words that went unsaid. His eyes followed you as you retreated down the hall, disappearing into the shadows, and I listened to the noisy click clack of your heels against the concrete until they faded into the distance.

Alfred stopped in the doorway and turned back to look at me. “Are you ready, Master Bruce?”

I replied with a soundless nod.

I was sent to an out of state prison and rehabilitation facility. I got out in three months on good behavior and making substantial progress. Those three months, I spent jotting all this down on any scraps of paper I could find. I wrote it all down from the beginning — at least the second beginning — all the bad parts and the good parts and the sick, perverted things I did that should never be written down, let alone spoken aloud. Everything I could remember, and I like to think I remember everything about you, about us. Or at least almost everything.

I’ll always think about what would’ve happened if I hadn’t have dropped out of Anders Preparatory Academy that day, if I hadn’t have killed Ra’s al Ghul. If I hadn’t have let my desires get the best of me, if I had pursued a normal relationship with you and severed off the twisted, depraved part of myself. If I had listened to you and left you alone. If I hadn’t have turned to drugs and drinking and sex for comfort and had been better for you. I’ll always be plagued by what ifs. They’ll always swarm and swirl in my head like a hurricane wracking the shore.

When I came out, I learned you quit your job as fundraising chairman of your family’s company. You moved out of Gotham with your stepmom, and I think you operate on your own now. You could never lose your will to give, I knew that about you. I had only looked up your name a couple of times.

I rehired Alfred as my butler, and I’m back at Wayne Manor now. I don’t hang out with Tommy anymore. The last thing I need is to go back down that path again and hurt someone else. There will never be someone like you. Alfred pushed me to take a more active role in Wayne Enterprises again, and I finally took his advice and listened to him. It’s not enough to fuel my soul, but nothing is anymore. Nothing ever was, except for you.

I don’t know where you went, but I made good on my promise. I didn’t look for you. I didn’t search for you. I let you disappear off the face of the Earth as if you had never been there in the first place. I’m playing by your rules now, but I can’t let you go just yet.

I’m giving this letter to Alfred to deliver to you. He says he knows where you are and that he’ll give it to you. I don’t know if this will ever make its way to you, if it’ll get lost or if Alfred will pocket it or if you’ll tear it to shreds and burn it before reading a single word, but if there is some way you are reading this, there is something I want you to know.

I didn’t apologize to you at our last confrontation because I knew you wouldn’t accept it. It would be like a slap in the face, like nails on a chalkboard. The last thing you want to hear me say is I’m sorry because no amount of apologies in the world, no way that I could string the words, could ever make up for all the things I did to you. But I am sorry. I do feel regret and remorse, and that’s something that I was starting to think was impossible for me. In a way, you gave me one last gift before you left. Maybe now I can start to heal.

I don’t expect you to forgive me. I definitely don’t expect a reply to this letter. I don’t expect you to reach out and wipe the slate clean and start over. I don’t expect another beginning, even if they say third time’s a charm. I just needed to get this off my chest, to lift the weight off of my shoulders, because you may have the scars, but I carry the burden with me everywhere I go.

I may not ever get the punishment you think I deserve, but I lost you, and for that I’ll have to atone for alone.

THE END

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #Gotham #gotham fanfic #gotham imagine #gotham fanfiction #dark!fic #dark!bruce wayne #playboy!bruce wayne

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kmomof4 · 5 years

Text

Ch8 Time and Again

All right y'all! We made it! It is smut time!! After the first POV change though. Hope you enjoy the new chapter!!

Ao3 link

All the love and hugs and flails to the best beta in the world @hollyethecurious and the bomb when it comes to encouragement and getting me out of my own head @winterbaby89!!! This fic wouldn’t be what it is or even here in the first place without you ladies!!! Thank you both so much!! Love y'all!!!

Also a big shout out and internet hug to the CSSNS ladies for all their advice and encouragement along the way! Thank you all so much!

And to all of you who are reading, I cannot thank you enough!! Words truly can’t express what all your flails, comments, reblogs, and kudos mean to me! We are nearing the end of this journey and I hope you like what I have in store!

Tagging my peeps: @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @jennjenn615 @kingofmyheart14 @profdanglaisstuff @branlovestowrite @thisonesatellite @ultraluckycatnd @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @let-it-raines @shireness-says @kymbersmith-90 @darkcolinodonorgasm @bethacaciakay @searchingwardrobes @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @aprilqueen84 @qualitycoffeethings @superchocovian @artistic-writer @donteattheappleshook @doodlelolly0910 @seriouslyhooked @tiganasummertree

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

A/N: This chapter is about 90% smut. It begins at the first POV change. Feel free to skip if it’s not your thing.

“We’re home, love,” Killian murmured in Emma’s ear.

He watched as she blinked her eyes open, looked around, and saw that they were pulling up to the dock behind the house. Sitting up from his chest, she stretched.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked with a smirk on his face and eyebrow raised.

“Mmmmmm,” she hummed, her arms raised up above her head before she turned to him and caught his smile. “Yes, I did. I had a very plush, fuzzy pillow to sleep on.” She sent a matching smirk his way and looked up at him from underneath her eyelashes. “It’d be good to sleep on tonight, too,” she whispered huskily, placing her hands on his chest and leaning in. He couldn’t help the way his cock stirred to life with her warm breath tickling the shell of his ear.

“Minx,” he replied, pulling her back into his chest so that he could claim her lips. It was brief, a chaste kiss that did little to cool the ardor in his blood. Releasing her, he smirked as she looked rather discombobulated, whether from just waking up from a two hour nap or his kiss, or a combination of both, he couldn’t tell. But it did give him a sense of male pride that his kiss may be responsible for it.

He got up and approached Nemo, hand outstretched towards the captain. “Thank you, my friend. I think it’s safe to say,” Killian glanced bashfully at Emma after Nemo shook his hand, “that we had a wonderful day today.”

“I’m so glad you did,” Nemo replied. “And milady,” he remarked, turning to Emma and taking her hand, “I hope to see you on the Jolly Roger again soon.” He bowed low and placed a kiss to her knuckles as he bid them farewell.

Killian, with the cooler on his arm, disembarked to the dock and held his hand out to Emma. Once she joined him, he held out his elbow for her to take as he escorted her through the greenery that surrounded the pool. The sun was already well behind the screen surrounding them, so as they stepped into the pool area, it was already a cool, shaded oasis away from the blazing South Texas sun.

They continued into the house where Killian unpacked the cooler and Emma looked up recipes for how to cook her prize. Finding an easy baked fish recipe, Emma handed Killian her phone while she got to work preparing sides and opening the wine.

Settling down to their meal, Killian smirked at her. “My turn to ask a question,” he cajoled. “First though, since I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier, my favorite book is probably Lord of the Rings.”

“Lord of the Rings,” she asked, delighted, “I love it too! But I would have thought Peter Pan was your favorite, with the Jolly, I mean.” Her eyes twinkled merrily.

“Oh, well, I have fond memories of my mom reading it to us before she died.” He shrugged and scratched behind his ear. “So, that’s where the name came from. Captain Hook was my favorite character. But as far as my favorite book that I’ve ever read, it’d have to be Lord of the Rings. The world building and the history, languages, everything, just fascinate me. Now, tell me about one of your best memories growing up.”

Emma sat back and took a sip of her wine. She appeared to be lost in thought for a moment before she came back to herself. “How I found out that Ingrid was going to adopt me.” She nodded decisively. “That is without any doubt my best memory. It was my 15th birthday. I’d been with Ingrid for two months by that time. She took me, just me, to the carnival that was in town. We played carnival games, rode the rides, about made ourselves sick with cotton candy and funnel cakes. I laughed more that day than I ever had in my life.” She smiled softly, remembering.

“As the day was coming to an end, we stopped and got a hot dog from one of the vendors. When we sat down to eat, Ingrid pulled out a large catalog envelope from her bag and sat it in front of me. I knew that those kinds of envelopes contained new assignments for us foster kids. I remember my vision blurring as I realized that she was sending me away, and she must have decided to try and make me feel better by taking me to the carnival.”

Tears filled her eyes at the memory and Killian took her hand in his. “Ingrid was watching me closely to gauge my reaction and it didn’t take her long to realize that I had the wrong idea. She grabbed my hand, just like you did,” she said, nodding to their joined hands on the table, “and all but cried with me as she tried to convince me that she wanted to adopt me, not get rid of me.”

A smile broke out then as a tear escaped its confines and tracked down her cheek. Killian reached over and caught it on the pad of his thumb. She wiped the rest of her tears away with the back of her other hand. “So yeah,” she repeated, looking down, “that’s my favorite memory. The rest of the kids in the house were reassigned by the new year and the adoption was final on February 7. We still celebrate it,” she whispered.

“As well you should,” he agreed softly, willing her to look up at him. When she did, he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

She looked away, blushing. “Well, you did ask,” she murmured.

She unclasped their hands and dug into her meal. The conversation never flagged or veered into uncomfortable territory for the rest of the evening. The flirting, banter, and innuendo flowed as freely as the wine as they enjoyed the baked mackerel with new potatoes and asparagus.

When they finally finished their meal and cleaned up the kitchen, Emma turned to him with eyes wide with nervousness and hope. “Do you want to try this again?”

“Do you?” he asked. “I’m so sorry for last night, Swan,” he murmured, coming over to her and drawing her into his arms. “I mean,” he tried to explain, “I can’t say I’m truly sorry for stopping last night, for the reasons I gave you. But I certainly didn’t intend to hurt you. Or to make you think that you were anything less than completely desirable. But I also think that after the day we’ve spent together, there’s a better and stronger connection between us. And that will only make things better. Don’t you think?” he asked, the tips of his ears burning and all the hope he felt shining in his eyes.

“Yes, I do,” she agreed. She placed a finger on his lips when he opened his mouth to say more. “Shhhh,” she quieted him, “It’s not time for talking now. Let’s forget about last night and move forward.”

He nodded, drawing her finger into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the tip. His midnight blue eyes, holding all his love and desire, held hers as she drew in a sharp breath.

~*~*~

Staring into his eyes, she came to a realization. She was done. Done fighting. Done fighting against what he was asking for. Done fighting against what she wanted. She was his and he was hers. At least, she hoped he was. She rose up on her toes and drew his mouth to her own. She could still taste the Chardonnay on his lips as he traced the seam of hers with his tongue. She moaned as she granted him entrance and tangled her hands in his hair as he maneuvered her head just right to deepen the kiss. She lost all sense of space or time as he leisurely explored the recesses of her mouth and received her own in kind.

She wrapped her legs around his narrow hips as he lifted her from her feet. His hands held on to her ass as he walked them to the master suite, continuing to plunder the depths of her mouth. Their lips finally separated as he deposited her on the bed. She looked up and caught her breath at the desire that blazed in his eyes. Desire for her. She pushed herself up towards the pillows as he climbed up and hovered over her.

“I have dreamt of this so many times over the years, Swan,” he admitted, lowering himself on top of her, peppering light and teasing kisses to her jaw and neck. “Please tell me this is real, Emma. Tell me I’m not dreaming,” he murmured into her skin.

“You’re not dreaming,” she gasped, as his lips closed on her pulse point and gave a hard suck. The pleasure shot straight to her core and she could already feel the tightening coil as she writhed beneath him.

He released her with a smirk as he looked down to admire his handiwork. Soothing the area with his tongue, Emma thought she would die from his attentions before he even got her clothes off. Backing away from the edge he had already brought her to, she pulled his lips back to hers again. She felt like she could kiss him forever. The dreams didn’t hold a candle to the real thing, she thought as their tongues danced and desire flooded her.

Her hands explored his clothed chest until they worked their way under his shirt to feel the hard planes of his abdomen and pecs. She could feel Killian begin his own explorations as he slowly caressed her through her shift. She pulled his shirt over his head, whimpering when they had to break the kiss to do so. His lips crashed back to hers as his hands started working on the tie of her coverup. He rose above her as he drew the sides away from her scantily clad form. His eyes darkened even further as they roved from her face to her breasts to her center and down her long legs.

“Do you have any idea how hard it was keeping my mind out of the gutter today when you were sunning yourself on the Jolly? All that bare skin on display, kissed by the sun,” he murmured, lowering himself to her again and kissing down her neck, collar, and sternum until he reached the bottom of the bikini top where he plunged his tongue into the gap between her breasts and the flimsy pieces of fabric that kept them from his sight. Her skin was on fire as he reached behind her, untied, and removed the offensive material. “So beautiful, so perfect,” he crooned, soaking her in, “mine,” he finished, his voice nearly a growl as his tongue flicked out and swirled around the sensitive bud.

“Yes, yours,” she keened, arching into him, “all yours.”

He drew her aching nipple into the warm cavern of his mouth and she thought she might explode from the pleasure that he sent zinging through her body. His hand sought out the neglected breast as his mouth continued its sensual assault on its twin. Weighing it in his hand, his fingers circled and plucked until her nipple was a sharp peak. She could feel herself approaching the edge again as he continued his erotic ministrations. He released her breast with a pop and sent her a smouldering smirk before he pushed and held her breasts together and flicked each nipple back and forth with his tongue. The action sent her to even greater heights before he released her and continued kissing a trail down past her navel until he reached the even flimsier excuse for a cover over her most intimate place. He nosed at her covered center, inhaling deeply.

“Killian,” she moaned, “Killian, please,” she begged.

“As you wish, darling,” he whispered into her overheated skin.

He pulled the bikini bottoms down her long legs and tossed it over his shoulder as he kissed his way back up her limbs. She shivered in ecstasy as he got closer and closer to where she was wet and aching for him. He nosed at her curls and drew a finger through her soaked folds.

“All this, for me?” he asked, flicking his tongue out to taste her essence that coated his finger. He drew it fully into his mouth and shut his eyes as he moaned in appreciation. “You taste divine, Emma,” he groaned, releasing his finger with a pop. “I can’t wait to taste you properly.” He settled himself between her legs and looking up at her through his lashes, his eyes held hers. “May I?” he implored her.

Emma thought that she would explode if he didn’t put his mouth on her soon. She nodded, wordlessly before her arms gave out and she landed flat on the bed just as she felt Killian’s tongue draw a long swipe through her drenched core. She keened as she felt him plunge two fingers into her dripping center all while drawing her clit between his lips and sucking for all he was worth. She detonated with a scream of his name as her thighs clenched on either side of his head holding him to her. He brought her down slowly as she mumbled incoherently into the pillow she rested on. When she came back to herself, Killian sat on his haunches in between her legs with his cock on glorious display to her appreciative gaze. He must have removed his trunks at some point during all that.

Beckoning him forward with a sultry gaze on his splendid cock, she whispered, “My turn.”

She raised herself from where she lay on the bed and pushed against him until he was flat on his back with his head toward the foot of the king sized bed. She straddled him and ground down on his impressive length, watching as his eyes rolled in the back of his head with a long moan working its way out of his throat. He grabbed her hips and held her there as he thrust his hips into hers, creating delicious friction, but not giving them both the contact they craved.

She backed away from him until his red and weeping cock was squarely in her sights. She flicked her tongue out and caught the bead of precum that had gathered at his slit. “Mmmmm,” she hummed, “delicious.”

She looked up at him through her eyelashes and beheld her man thoroughly wrecked. His pupils were blown until only the thinnest rims of midnight blue remained, and his hair was sticking up in every direction from where she’d been grasping it.

Emma leaned forward and took him into the moist heat of her mouth. She bobbed her head up and down his length, every other beat swirling her tongue around the sensitive head. She could feel herself getting wetter as she listened to his moans and pleas. She hollowed out her cheeks and gave him a good suck before releasing him with a pop. She shot him a cat-that-ate-the-canary smile before she crawled back up and claimed his mouth with her own.

She could still taste herself on his tongue as they battled for dominance. He wound his fingers in her hair as he crushed her body to his. Releasing her lips suddenly, he flipped them toward the head of the bed. She was on her back with her legs spread for him as if they had done this dance a thousand times before. Killian stared into her eyes as he settled himself in the cradle of her thighs, his cock hitting her just right. He ground his hips into hers, coating his length in the evidence of her desire. Demanding lips met hers in a passionate kiss of possession as he lined himself up at her entrance.

Wrenching her lips away from his, she peppered his scruff and neck with teasing, biting kisses as she waited for him to fill her. “Please, Killian,” she begged, “Take me now.”

“As you wish,” he choked out as he buried himself in her depths. She screamed as another blinding orgasm crashed over her. Her walls rippled along his shaft as he held himself still waiting for her to drift back to earth and join him in their mutual desire. When she opened her eyes, he began to move, holding her spellbound. She couldn’t look away from the passionate desire that burned in their cerulean depths. Her eyes fell shut after a few thrusts, relishing the feeling of him along her walls. The pleasure was too much, the tension coiled too tightly. He lifted her leg and rested it over his hip, changing the angle enough that she trembled on the edge yet again. Burying his face in the crook of her neck, he reached between them and found her swollen nub.

“Come for me one more time, Emma,” he beseeched her.

She did as he bid with a silent scream and blinding white behind her eyelids. One, two, three more pumps of his hips and he joined her with a stuttering groan of her name. He pressed tender kisses into her shoulder and neck, before he claimed her lips with his own. Their heart rates started to even out as his tongue gently caressed hers. She whimpered as he rolled off of her before drawing her back into his arms.

“Sleep now, love,” he whispered in her ear, “We have all the time in the world.” He kissed her temple as she succumbed to dreams.

~*~*~

Killian woke sometime later with his arms wrapped around the woman he loved as her back was nestled against his front. He realized that, though there was nothing better than waking this way, his backside was cold. They had fallen asleep on top of the comforter, and after the sweat from their earlier exersions had evaporated, the running AC had cooled him enough now that he was wanting something between his naked skin and the air. He reached behind himself and tried to pull the comforter down enough that he could wiggle them both underneath it without waking his love. Unfortunately, even with his long arms, he wasn’t even close to the top of the comforter.

He rolled away from her and tried again, reaching for the top of the bed. Emma whimpered in her sleep and tried to snuggle back into him, reaching behind her to grab his arm and draw it over her body. She sighed contentedly when he rolled back to her, pulling the comforter down over them.

“What time is it,” she mumbled, still mostly asleep.

“I can’t tell,” he murmured into the skin behind her ear, placing a gentle kiss there. “My watch is on the nightstand and our phones are still in the kitchen.”

“Mmmmm,” she hummed, wiggling back into his arms.

She turned her head as he raised up to capture her lips with his own. He nibbled on her full lower lip before seeking entrance. She turned completely in his arms and tangled her fingers in his hair as she opened her mouth to his pillaging and plundering as if there was no tomorrow. He rolled her onto her back as his mouth commanded hers and his hands mapped the curves of her form. The low moan from the back of her throat told him that his efforts were appreciated, and with a growl of possession, his hands finally found the object of his desire where she was wet in her want of him. Her hips jerked as he sank two fingers into her welcoming heat and started the slow pumping that would bring her to ecstasy.

“There’s my Swan,” he praised, as she began riding his fingers. He watched as her face scrunched up in pleasure as she chased her release. “You are so beautiful when you come, Emma. I could watch you for hours.”

Emma tried to pull him back down to her, but he was having none of it. “Killian, please,” she moaned, her head thrashing back and forth, “I need…”

“I know what you need, darling,” he crooned, as he curled his fingers inside her just right and pressed his thumb into her swollen nub. “Come for me now, Emma,” he cajoled.

Her walls fluttered and clamped down on his digits like a vice. She let out an ecstatic moan that matched his own in length and volume before he crashed his lips into hers, prolonging her pleasure. He brought her down gently before lining himself up and sheathing himself in her scorching hot depths. They both let out a sigh of relief at being joined again so intimately before he slowly rocked into her, simply content to be one with her for a moment before his own need compelled him to move. Her own hips raised to meet him as he slowly pulled nearly all the way out before slamming back home again. Twin groans sounded the depths of their desire as they began to move together in a dance as old as time. Again and again his hips met hers as with each pass, he ground down on her clit, determined to bring her to climax with him inside her. He captured her lips with a desperate kiss when he felt her walls begin to flutter along his length. She kissed him back with an intensity that he could feel in his soul, as her arms tightened even more around him. She stiffened and moaned into his mouth as her orgasm crashed over her. The pulsing of her walls dragged him over into euphoria right along with her.

Killian continued to pump slowly into her as he felt himself start to soften. Holding her closely he buried his face into the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply. Placing a gentle kiss on her pulse point where he had left his mark earlier, he chuckled to himself.

“What,” his lover asked, somewhat dazedly.

He raised his head to look at her. “You smell like the ocean and sunshine,” he waxed poetically. She snorted and tried to push him away.

“Ocean and fish maybe,” she grumbled. “We never showered or anything after getting home.”

He couldn’t help the surge of happiness that rose within him at her use of the word ‘home.’ She looked up at him from under her eyelashes. “I seem to remember something about a whirlpool tub. A tub that fits two?” she asked coquettishly.

He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Indeed you did, Swan.” He pressed a brief kiss into her neck, eliciting a soft moan, before untangling himself from her and rising from the bed. “I’ll go run us a hot bath.” He sauntered away from her, knowing that she was staring at his bare ass, and unable to wipe off his grin at that knowledge.

“Make sure it’s very hot,” she yelled after him. “I want my skin pink when we get out.”

“As you wish,” he bellowed over the running water. Watching the water fill the tub as he stood over it, he felt svelte and toned arms wind their way around his middle.

Emma lay her head between his shoulder blades and placed a kiss there. “How much longer,” she whined.

He smiled and turned around in her arms, circling his own behind her back. Smiling down at her, he placed a peck of a kiss on the tip of her nose. “It’ll take several more minutes to fill a tub this size. But that doesn’t mean we can’t go ahead and get in.” He released her and crossed over to the vanity in between the double sinks. Opening the drawer there, he found what he was looking for. He turned back to find Emma just stepping down into the filling tub.

“Oooooooo,” she moaned as she stepped into the hot water. She settled herself down and turned her questioning gaze upon him. “What’s that?”

“This is the remote for the jets,” he said holding up the first object in his hand. “And this,” he clicked the lighter on and reached across the tub to the candles situated in the corner, “will light the candles for us.”

After lighting them, he straightened and placed the lighter back in the drawer before dimming the lights. Returning to the tub, he placed the remote on the side, and urged Emma to sit forward so he could take his place behind her. He wedged himself between her and the back of the tub and spread his legs so that she could come back and lay on him as she had that afternoon on the Jolly. She smirked at him as he situated himself before drawing her back to rest against his chest.

“Mmmmmm,” she hummed, “I got my furry pillow back,” she teased, snuggling down into him.

He could feel his cock begin to twitch as she wiggled her hips getting herself comfortable. His arms snaked around her and his fingers began their task of memorizing all the secret places on her body that made her shiver. He lay his head back against the edge of the tub and closed his eyes as he leisurely explored all that she had to offer him.

“I guess we should turn the water off now, huh?” she asked.

“Mmmmm,” he agreed, realizing that the water came up to her chest. He heard the water cut off as his hands cupped both of her breasts, testing their weight. “You have such beautiful breasts, Swan,” he praised. “I could sit here and simply touch you all night long and never get tired of gazing at your beauty.”

He thrust his hips against her backside as she tilted hers back to meet him with a broken sigh. He continued the kneading of her soft curves, rolling and pinching her nipples until they were hard points. She whimpered when his hands left their appointed tasks. One to pull her hair away from her neck and shoulder, so that his lips and tongue could join the sensual assault, the other traveling down to the molten center of her desire. When he flicked her clit, Emma slid down lower, spreading her legs further by draping them over his. Her hips rocked into his touch as a breathy moan left her lips.

“Leave your legs where they are darling, and come back up here to me,” he whispered in her ear. Keeping her legs spread, he lifted her hips and drew her back toward him before lowering her down on his rigid member.

“Oh, God,” she breathed. He lowered his head to rest on her shoulder as he basked in the glory of being inside her again. She reached up and behind his head, tangling her fingers in his hair. He pressed light and teasing kisses to her shoulder and neck as he slowly thrust into her willing heat. “Right there, Killian,” she moaned. He thrust again, feeling her shiver in his arms.

He relished making love to Emma in this way. Every inch of his skin was covered by her. Holding her to him, buried inside her, he felt whole in a way that he never had before. He knew there was no way he would ever be able to let her go. He would go to the end of the world for her. Or time.

The tension that was slowly building between them suddenly compelled him to brand her as his, from the inside out. He couldn’t lose her. His mouth clamped down on the other side of her neck from where he had already left his mark. He sucked heat to the surface of her skin as he tightened his arms around her and thrust into her like a man possessed. Her moans of rapture and the sloshing of the water barely reached his ears.

“Emma, Emma, Emma,” he chanted with every thrust. He could feel her walls poised on the edge of orgasm, so he reached back down and flicked her swollen nub. Her walls gripped him and they fell into the abyss together.

~*~*~

As she came back to herself, she felt Killian press tender, light kisses to the area that she knew he had left a bruise. “I’m sorry, Swan,” he murmured into her skin. “I think I got a little carried away.”

She smiled a sated, easy smile, and leaned back into his chest, turning her head until she could capture his lips.“Don’t worry about it,” she admonished, sending him a smirk full of mischief. “I think I rather like being marked by you. And I’ve got a matching set,” she said, running her fingers down both sides of her neck where he had left a sizable hickey.

“Minx,” he growled playfully, turning her around and pulling her even closer to him so he could take her lips again. After a few minutes of sweet kisses and gentle touches, simply intended to enjoy the other and not arouse, she pulled away and rested her forehead against his.

“You know, baths are not that great for getting clean,” she informed him, mirth dancing in her eyes. “And there is a rather large shower over there.”

“You’re right Swan, there is,” he agreed. “Shall we adjourn to it and actually get clean?” He waggled his eyebrows at her again with a smirk on his lips.

“I think that might be a good idea,” she admitted, standing up and letting the water droplets run down her body. The look in his eyes as he stared at her gave her a feeling of power and confidence like she had never felt before. He looked at her as if there was no one in the world as beautiful and desirable as she was and it melted her heart.

Breaking his gaze, she got out of the tub and walked down the steps to the shower in the corner. She turned it on as she heard him step out of the tub behind her. Stepping in, she saw body wash, shampoo and conditioner on the built in shelves. Killian joined her and pushed her under the spray.

He filled his hand with the shampoo and gently worked the vanilla scented substance through every strand on her head. She had never felt so cared for in her life. His gentle touches as he continued his ministrations, first washing and conditioning her hair and then her skin, brought her a peace and contentment that she thought she’d never have. This man, beyond any doubt, was her soulmate.

She smiled ruefully as Killian finished rinsing the body wash from her skin. She had shared the deepest secrets of her heart with him. His acceptance and understanding without pity, was somewhat unexpected, and deepened her love for him even more. And she knew he loved her. Even if he hadn’t said the words. It was evident in every look, every touch, every kiss. She felt whole with him. He completed her. Just like M’s said.

Turning to him, she raised up on her toes and kissed him with all the love in her heart. When they broke apart, several minutes later, they were both panting heavily. Without words, she filled her hand with the shampoo and massaged it through his raven locks. She washed his hair as his lips nibbled everywhere he could reach. “How am I supposed to wash your hair when you are doing that?” she asked.

“Not my problem, Swan,” he murmured into her skin. “How am I supposed to control myself when you’re standing there all naked and wet and tantalizing? Hmmmm?” He continued to kiss and nose along her jawline until she pushed him under the spray to rinse his hair and body and sank to her knees in front of him. He had denied her request to ravish him while he was attending to her, but now that she had her turn ministering to him, she could do exactly what she wanted to.

She wasted no time diving right in, swallowing him down until he hit the back of her throat. Looking up at him through her lashes, she saw his head thrown back against the tiles, the chords on his neck standing out as she bobbed up and down. His fingers tangled themselves in her hair as she continued her efforts. She gripped his base with one hand while the other fondled his balls. The unintelligible litany that poured from him made her smile around him as she felt his balls tighten under her assault. He tried to pull her off him as his member started to throb in her mouth.

“Emma, Emma, I’m gonna…” He exploded into her mouth with a long groan. She swallowed every drop and then licked his slit to make sure she didn’t miss anything. Leaving a parting kiss to his tip, she rose to her feet. Reaching behind him she turned off the shower while he recovered.

She let out a squeal when he unexpectedly pulled her into his arms and planted a firm kiss to her swollen lips. “You are a wonder, Swan,” he breathed. “And now, I think it’s time that we make use of that bed. For sleeping,” he asserted, with a finger to her lips as she sent him a saucy look.

After toweling off, they blew out the candles, turned out the lights, and crawled back into the bed. As she drifted off to sleep with the arms of the man she loved around her, she knew that she could never let him go. Her heart was in this for the long haul. She determined that she was going to take this week and think about what came next when they returned to Dallas.

#Time and Again #ch8 #cs smut #krystal writes #art by krystal

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talltalesandbedtimestories · 4 years

Text

Temporary Ideal (Part 1)

The Beach FanFic (Leonardo DiCaprio) - Written decades ago. (uff!) Can find in entirety on Wattpad. May add additional parts if it ever gets some likes/reblogs.

~~~~~

The shade from the palm made the dampness of the air around me more palpable. I could feel the condensation on my arms, face and lips. I shivered in the early dawn, waiting for him. Waiting and thinking. This spot, near Bugs’ bridge, was the unofficial entrance to the village. It was where I had laid eyes on him for the first time. I remembered it clearly, like it was yesterday. Recalling that moment, surrounded by the soft rays of a new day, it was hard to believe it had been six months since the “Three Musketeers” had backpacked into our community.

~~~~~

It happened right after Vera had thrown me the last of the bed sheets. I had taken the worn nub of the last remains of Unhygenix’s homemade soap, and rubbed it lazily against the sheet draped over the granite slab. I hated laundry duty. Even though Vera moaned and groaned when we had the garden shift, I would gladly trade in my pruned fingers for dirt strewn ones. There was the quiet that was only disrupted by the buzz of an insect or the occasional tears of dead leaves. The hope experienced planting seeds for the new crop. Picking the ripe fruit and sneaking a taste of one, delicious pear before the rest of the community. My innate green thumb surprised me. I wouldn’t have looked twice at a cornfield or row of tomato plants in my “other” life. Here, though, things were different.

“Oh… my… God!” Vera’s faux valley girl inflection had taken over for a moment. Alarmed, I froze, staring down at the water flowing past my bare thighs. The last time Vera had voiced that exclamation while doing the wash had been when she had a spotted eel wrapped around her calf. We never were sure if the eel was very friendly, very horny or very tired of intruders in that particular spot of the lagoon. She had grabbed that sucker and smashed it against a rock like a bullwhip. Poor thing never knew what hit him, or her, or it. I made a mental note never to sneak up on Vera after that.

“What?” My focus shifted to Vera’s line of sight, which hadn’t been the water. My mouth opened slightly, feeling the dryness that had suddenly appeared. I’m sure everyone in the community had the same feeling at that moment. There they were, walking over the bridge, entering our territory. Keaty led the way. His tour of duty by the waterfall had turned out to be the most eventful one in two years.

“Three.” Vera waded toward the bridge. My mind had quickly processed the total. My attention was all on the person following six steps behind Keaty. I could tell immediately that he was American. I’m not sure what gave him away first, but the quick nod of recognition he gave Vera solidified it.

American. Even though I felt fear and uncertainty at their presence, I still smiled. There was another one of us. Four now. And there was another reason I was smiling. That flight of butterflies that had remained dormant in my stomach for what now seemed like an eternity, was performing aerials I couldn’t remember ever experiencing. It may have just boiled down to the fact that there was new meat. Available meat. It was obvious, the solitary way he strode ahead of the other man and woman, that he was alone.

He was tan, lean and long. Everything about him screamed California boy, kissed by the sun from his golden-brown strands to the shine of his skin. He tightly gripped the end of what looked like a trash bag over his right shoulder, eyes darting this way and that, taking in the entirety of the environment. He passed over me as quickly as he had everyone else. I was too far away to make out the color of his eyes, but his stare was intense enough for me to feel he meant business. They hadn’t just stumbled across our paradise. This had been a quest. And I was pretty sure he was the one who had been in charge for most of it.

Vera looked over to me after they had passed. “Let’s hurry this shit up and get our asses back to the longhouse. I don’t want to miss Sal’s face when she sees this.” I nodded in agreement, and then shook my head at the thought of Sal’s expression. I hoped I would be able to get some prime seating.

~~~~~

We slipped in after the impromptu “family meeting” had already taken place.

Sophie stood in the darkened corner and motioned quickly to both of us as soon as we came in. We huddled together for catch up.

“They have a map.” Sophie nodded her head toward the middle of the longhouse, where the majority now congregated. Sal was in full mother-hen mode. I spotted the paper in her hand.

“To the beach?” Vera asked and Sophie nodded. My eyes canvassed the area. I saw the back of blonde boy. “Who are they?” Vera questioned again.

“The couple is French.” I looked over at Sophie in time to see a slight smile. It would be an addition to the already large French line. “Etienne and Francoise. The other one is Richard. An American.”

Richard. I let the name dance in my head a few times, unable to hide the vindication that my guess to his nationality had been correct. I didn’t need to hear any more from Sophie. I walked around the circle, just outside the radar of being noticed. Blending into the background had always been my best skill and too much was going on for anyone to pay attention to me anyway. They were all fixated on the visitors. I could spot rage on some faces, fear on others. But Sal would not let these new arrivals leave. I had known her long enough to realize that fact.

I sat on my bunk thankful Richard was on the exact opposite end. My legs crossed. I could hear the buzz of conversation around me. All of my senses besides sight had dulled, been drowned out, by the activity occupying me. Taking in every aspect of this man was now top priority. Boyishness graced his face, but the dominance of the man emerging was putting up a fierce battle with that appearance. In his 20s definitely, but as to which end of the scale he tipped closer to was still up in the air. The beauty and symmetry of his face elicited one word into my mind. Perfect. The shadows of late afternoon, however, didn’t allow a peek at his eye color. The somber, stuffy atmosphere of the hut matched the mood of its inhabitants.

My hearing tuned in at the sound of his voice, answering a question from Sal. I let the pitch and tone of his words flow inside. Even his words felt right to my ears. “It was on my hotel door one morning. I’d had this weird conversation with a guy staying next door to me the night before. He kept talking about this beach. So when I found the map, I figured it was from him. The guy who drew it…”

“Daffy.” Sal finished his sentence for him. The name jarred memories and haunting images of the rift that formed right before Daffy had left the island. The friction between Daffy, Sal and Bugs had become unbearable. I wanted to ask about Daffy, but the question only screamed inside my mind. There would be no disruptions while class was in session, at least not from the well-behaved students.

“Yeah, he’s dead.” My mouth dropped open, hearing that cold, factual sentence from Richard. That sentence did not come from one who had spent countless nights listening to Daffy’s stories around the fire. Not one who had ventured back with him to the mainland at least a dozen times for rice runs. And not one who had seen the love for something pure turn into an obsession to protect it. I tried to let the realization of Daffy’s death sink in, but I knew it would take forever to finalize it. I saw the whispers and stunned expressions take over the group.

Someone, I think Dale, exclaimed, “No way!”

Richard continued. “Yeah, he cut his wrists open in a hotel room on the Ko Sahn Road.”

Gregorio stared in horror at Richard. “You have seen this?”

“Well, I came afterwards.” There was no easy way to break this kind of news to a family. It was like a police officer knocking at a son’s door in the middle of the night to tell him his parents had been killed in a car accident. Empathy is a hard feeling to fake. You just don’t know until you have been there. I guessed Richard had yet to experience a close death.

“Well, that’s sad news. He was one of the founders of our community.” I spotted Vera, still in the corner with Sophie, listening to Sal. I hoped she had sense enough to hold her tongue.

“Oh.” Richard nodded his head slightly.

“But he became depressed.” There had been a clearing of the throat, somewhere from the crowd, after Sal’s addition. My stomach tensed up. It was amazing how fast people forgot all the good. Most of the bad feelings toward Daffy were present because of Sal’s talks and speeches since he had left. How he had become a liability, an acceptable loss for the protection of our community.

I saw Richard survey the reaction quickly. He had felt the bad blood and my eyes narrowed as I watched him try and feed off of it. “The police didn’t know what to do with the body so I guess they’re going to like incinerate him or something.” His smile and sudden laugh felt forced, out of place. He immediately realized his mistake, turning his head to the side to avoid the eyes of the community. He scratched the back of his head.

Sal took no note of it. I knew she was concerned with only one thing. “Do you think he gave a map to anybody else?”

Richard stared at her for a second, shaking his head in doubt. “Ah, no… I don’t think so.” I noticed relief on his face, thankful that the attention had been shifted from his foot-in-mouth display.

She looked at Etienne, Francoise and Richard, one by one. “And you, have you shown this map to anybody?”

They answered one after the other. “No.”

“Good.” She handed the open map to Richard. I felt another example coming on. She grabbed Bugs’ lighter and smiled, “We value our secrecy.” She lighted the map at the bottom as Richard held it. I heard the clapping begin. With that, our new members had been baptized.

~~~~~

After dinner, the nightly ritual of bedtime began for all in the longhouse. The newly arrived were given their sleep locations. I quietly prayed to whatever Thai god had whispered in Sal’s ear and placed him an easy glance across the floor from me. It was a beautiful change of scenery.

Keaty was filling him in on how things ran daily in the hut when Sonja stood up. I sighed. It was a language class tonight. She politely requested everyone’s attention and began her translation prompt.

“Listen up, everybody.” Her blonde bob shook a bit as she scanned the room. Linguistic learning was mainly someone reciting a line in English – which everyone on the island spoke – and expecting a translation in the teacher’s native tongue. In Sonja’s case, we’d be regurgitating the phrase in Croation. I always cursed Sal when it was time for this, as it had been her bright idea to begin this ages ago. I enjoyed poetry night so much more. I didn’t have to worry about getting called on to speak in front of the class.

“OK. Tomorrow I will travel for many miles on a bicycle.” She nodded her head towards the right of the hut. “Um, Vicki.”

Sitting just off to Richard’s side, Vick stopped in mid hit. I was curious if she had spoken to Richard much upon his arrival. She was a California girl. If my assumptions about where he was from were right, they might have a lot to talk about. She took just a second to contain her smoke before beginning. “Uh, sutra cu potovati mnogo milja bicicklom.”

I watched Richard listen intently before looking to Sonja to see how well Vicki had done. “Great, very good.” Sonja went on to her next victim. Though I should have been paying attention in case I was called, I was spending more time studying Richard.

After Helene, it was Keaty’s turn. In typical fashion, he stood up proudly. “All right. It’s far too easy, though.” With little effort, the words flowed freely out of his mouth. Cockily, he continued the rant. From what I could tell, his bicycle ride was going to be in the park after he ate a big breakfast. I shook my head, laughing at his pompous behavior as the rest of the group jeered. They eventually drowned him out. “There’s more, you know.” Before he sat down he took over Sonja’s duty and called out the next name. “Richard!”

There was an immediate hush. The newbie looked around and cleared his throat. To all listening, he choked out the words in a broken fashion; but, still surprisingly correct. Keaty yelled out in admiration, “Richard, you’re represented, man!” As was customary, the rest of the community applauded in sign language with their hands shaking while raised above their heads. I joined in on the compliment.

Richard grinned from ear to ear as he looked around the room. I felt that hiccup in my chest again as his eyes fell on me for a brief second. His eyes sparkled in the lantern lights. It was time to curse myself for being such a sucker for blue eyes.

~~~~~

Six months later, he was still only someone I studied from afar. There was the occasional friendly or duty-related chit-chat. But he had assimilated quickly, making a name for himself in the process. He still had a while to go, still only the second-string quarterback of the island. I, on the other hand, was hardly in the running for head cheerleader or homecoming queen.

He had become chummy with Keaty. I had gotten most of my information on Richard through him. The one thing I didn’t need explained to me was the crush he had on Francoise, the French girl that had accompanied him on the journey. I wondered if Etienne’s ignorance to his friend’s feelings about his girlfriend was simply a show. The looks Richard gave Francoise were just a bit too long. I hoped my crush was not as obvious to everyone else.

“Beth!” Keaty strode up beside me on the way back from a day of tilling in the garden.

“What’s up?”

“Have a question for you, love.” I always grinned when he said that.

“Shoot.”

Always the gentleman, he took my shovel, and leaned it against his right shoulder as we walked.

“Triple A’s. In short supply. Got any I can borrow?”

“God, Keaty, what have you been doing with them lately?”

“Not me only, Richard’s been hogging my GameBoy as well. We’re thinking of starting our own group. VGAA.” I stared at him curiously. He smiled explaining, “Video Game Addicts Anonymous.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Well, I don’t know if I should be a facilitator then, supplying you with the means to continue this addiction.”

“Ah, but the first step on the road to recovery is admission, which I’ve already done. Can’t stop cold turkey, right?”

“I’ll have some for you after dinner.”

“Thanks, Beth. You are a life saver, have I told you that?”

I nodded.

“Well, you are. I’m not the only one that knows it, love.”

“Enough sucking up, I already said I would give them to you.”

“Right. How about trying a game of cricket with me tomorrow then?”

“That’s OK, I prefer watching.”

“I’ve noticed.” I slapped his arm after that comment.

“Don’t hit me over the truth.” We both laughed, approaching the clearing to the beach. I didn’t spot Richard until Keaty had called over to him. “Richard, my man, we are back in business!”

Richard turned upon hearing his name. He sat on the beach with Christo and his fishing spear in hand. He nodded, smiling. “What Keaty!?”

“Got our dealer right here!” He placed his free hand over my shoulder. “Kong competition tonight!”

I felt myself blush with his attention on me. “Cool! Thanks Beth!” He waved over to the both of us.

I nodded and freed myself from Keaty’s grasp and grabbed the shovel back. “Gotta wash up, Keaty.”

~~~~~

I’d settled down in my bunk after a satisfying meal of rice and catfish, accompanied by an unexpected salad. I thought about the crop we would be working on the next day and couldn’t wait for the tomatoes to ripen. They’d be a great addition to Unhygenix’s menu.

I searched in my satchel for the book of poetry by Thoreau.

“Beth?”

My eyes looked up to find Richard towering above me.

“Yeah?” I smiled despite myself.

He bent at the knees, lowering himself to my eye level. “Don’t mean to be a pain, but Keaty and I,” I stared into his blue eyes a bit longer than I should have.

“Oh!” I mentally slapped my forehead. “The batteries.” He smiled, nodding. “Sorry, I forgot all about it.”

“No problem, just didn’t know how much longer Keaty and I could last before we experience withdrawal symptoms.” He chuckled, leaning his forearms against his knees.

I laughed, reaching over to my cigar box, my little treasure chest. “What are some of the symptoms?”

I turned back to see him hunched over, eyes wide, with his thumbs rapidly pressing invisible buttons. “Nothing too severe.” He started twitching his head. He continued the act. “Jump… Right… Punch”. I waved four batteries in front of his face, grinning. He relaxed immediately, opening a palm for the alkaline gems to drop inside of. “Whew, thanks.” He winked, and then smiled, as his hand clutched them tightly. “Could have gotten ugly.”

“Glad I could fix you up.”

“I owe you.”

I smiled, thinking of a few ways he could pay me back. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Night.”

“Good Night, Richard.”

I watched him stand up and turn, ready to make his way over to Keaty’s corner. I was about to resume the search for my book when I saw him turn back out of the corner of my eye. “Beth?”

“Uh-huh?”

“I was wondering… well,” he knelt down once again, “if you could help me with something?”

I nodded.

He looked around, I guessed to make sure no one was paying close attention. I noticed him lingering his gaze in Sal’s direction before continuing, slightly above a whisper this time. “It’s about Daffy.”

It had been months since I had heard anyone utter his name. “Daffy?”

He nodded. “It’s just that… ever since we came here, I’ve had a lot of questions about him. I mean he’s the reason we’re here. But, no one talks about him. I’ve asked Sal once, and Keaty a few times, but they just clam up or change the subject. The only thing I got out of Keaty was that you were close to him.”

“I guess you could say that.”

“Could you tell me something about him then? Tomorrow maybe?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll meet up with you after fishing duty.”

“OK.” I smiled.

“Thanks.”

“Good night. Again.” He smiled, walked off. I lay back, placing my hand under my pillow. That’s where Thoreau turned out to be hiding. I pulled the worn book out, inspecting it. Thoughts of curling up with a few of his verses were now long gone. I had someone else to dream about.

#leonardo dicaprio fanfiction #dicaprio fanfic #the beach movie

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qhostqizmo · 5 years

Text

the truth can be hard to swallow

I wanted to name this piece bad o/mens but then realized some fandom folk would find this and be sorely disappointed so thought better not

- - - - - - - - - -

Alone. Just like before. Wasn’t this the way it was supposed to be?

No. No, this wasn’t what she wanted. This wasn’t what she wanted at all. This was never what she wanted; the smothering silence, the dull ache in her chest, the feeling that she wasn’t good enough. She would never be good enough. Not for herself, not for anybody.

‘I need no one.’

A lie. Pretty lies, keeping the world at bay. If she kept them at arm’s length, they would be safe. She would be safe. They wouldn’t need to fall to the misfortune of being around her; or the bane of knowing her, and she would not be tricked again. No one could get under her skin if she didn’t want them to. No one could break her more then she already was. Haunted by words and wounded by piercing dagger tongues of others; damned by her own demons which whispered and spat her own self-loathing and hatred back at her.

Nevertheless, Essätha’s heart betrayed her. She craved. She wanted the things she passed from town to town; the smiles on the faces of others, the ordinary life, the jokes, the friendship shared. It made her sick to want. Beautiful things she could not have, and people reminding her with every sneer and curled lip as gazes met that she never would.

She opened her eyes, staring ahead blankly.

Maybe not everyone despised her…

The unlit fireplace, cold and empty, allowed a breeze to sweep down and chill her to the bone. A shiver coursed through her veins and into her aching joints. The musky odor of mold lingered in the air. With a snivel, she pivoted on the creaky floorboards to examine the remainder of the dark, dingy, dusty room.

Curtains draping the cloudy windows were chewed to rags; lined with holes and brittle from bugs eating the fabric. The only sitting furniture in the room; an impressively large sofa, had its metal springs breaking the surface and was filthy. Like the shades, it too was a mass of holes and scratches from pests eating away at it.

Something about this place seemed familiar. Maybe because so much of it was such an echo to her own soul; void and forgotten, left to rot and wither away.

Essie escaped the eerie room to walk the path of the hallway. She avoided stepping on the most warped boards and near the holes that riddled the floor, revealing slivers of light to the first floor. Below and among the other rooms of the imposing house, she could still make out the muffled conversation of her allies sorting through the building.

Breathing heavily; coughing as she inhaled the choking stale aroma of the air and dust, she covered her mouth.

Alone. Alone. Alone.

What was wrong with her?

What isn’t wrong with me, she thought with bitter scolding to the small, longing voice in the back of her head.

Pacing down the adjacent corridor, her mouth parted in surprise. A ladder that entered to the attic, partially pulled down and leaving a gaping maw open to the loft. She inched closer suspiciously, half expecting something to jump down upon her.

Nothing did.

Squinting suspiciously, Essätha examined the old wood. None of the dirt upon it looked like it had moved recently; still caked on it layers. Strange though. She wondered if the steps had unlatched itself with time. Perhaps the catch had gone bad? Certainly the estate itself was spooky and ominous, but it was unlikely people would depart leaving this open?

She took the rung, and pulled it down the remainder of the way. More dust fell upon her, leaving her staggering and coughing as she stepped away.

Definitely unused.

With no paw-prints and no scat immediately in sight, she tentatively tested a boot against the bottom step. It was firm, and steady. Curious, she tested the next, and the next; gradually climbing up to poke her head up at the top.

Nothing spectacular. As with most home owners, it appeared this room had been used as storage space.

Still, she wondered if they’d left anything useful behind. Maybe a magical heirloom, or some books that might come in handy for study…

Clawing her way the remainder of the way up, Essätha swung her legs over and crawled on her hands and feet cautiously across the baseboards. They softly groaned, but didn’t appear overly worn. She got on her feet, and brushed as much of the dust off her slacks as she could. So far so good, she hadn’t fallen through at least.

Various boxes, old lamps, neatly organized files, and portraits greeted her. She cared little for these, as they eyes appeared to follow her judgmentally as she moved slowly around the room.

I know I’m a hideous creature, you need not point it out, she thought sourly, glaring at one extraordinary well detailed painting of a man who appeared to be sternly glowering towards her. He appeared quite youthful in the painting; not entirely attractive or unattractive, but plain. Many of the drawings were actually uneventful; images blurring together. Some had more defined noses, or a broader forehead; some older and some younger, but they weren’t spectacular. It was difficult to tell if they were related or not.

Traversing the room, she paused curiously at a desk behind a row of boxes. It had parchments lined upon it, and a dried out ink bottle. The spot appeared to be a little nook for privacy, hidden out of sight. It offered a slanted view of the only window up here; small, but one that could offer decent light in the day to avoid keeping a lantern on. She wondered what they’d been writing…

Stepping closer, Essie’s sharply darted her eyes over the faded, yellowed paper. Stained with time, the pigment of the ink barely legible and handwriting atrocious and difficult to read. Her feet dragged her closer, trying to inspect the delicate pages without daring touch them, and ruin whatever may be written on them.

‘Talon of the Raven Lord, You are hereby charged, by the order of His Glory…’

She exhaled sharply, stepping away from the table. Her rear bumped into one of the boxes on the floor. It fell over, spilling out paperwork and scattering it upon the floor.

Essie’s eyes moved to the bumbling mishap, and all the letters.

‘Talon of the Raven Lord-’

“Oh Gods,” she wheezed, taking a side-step away from the tainted parchments. Nervously licking her lips, her gaze shifted hastily from the mess, towards the desk.

With horror, she realized that the ink upon the paper began to steadily darken. As if written new, the paper, too, began to change; taking on a soft manila over the fragile yellow-age. A droplet of red began to bleed out from the corner. Nausea swam in her stomach, staring at the frayed edges reform and for more of the off-colors to grow bolder splotches of crimson.

From above, a drip splashed against her nose. Essätha reached up, stepping away from the study as her fingers swiped at the liquid upon the bridge of her face.

Her digits came away stained crimson.

Against all better judgment, her eyes moved towards the ceiling.

With empty eyesockets and rotted flesh hanging off of bones; and what remained of its clothes, a corpse offered her a twisted, welcoming grin from above.

A terrified scream tore through her throat, making it feel raw. She fumbled backwards, her eyes unable to tear themselves away from the dreadful sight. The figure moved; its head cracking to the side like an intrigued bird. Fragments of bone from the neck vertebrate rained down, and the undead thing began to climb with gangly arms, like a spider, from rafter to rafter and down the side of the wall with the grace of a spider.

“Where are you going, Essätha?” the skeleton cooed in a masculine voice, its teeth clicking together as it laughed. Old blood flaked off its matted hair, and what remained of its scalp. Fresh blood oozed from beneath its ribcage, and left splotches and smeared imprints of its hands where it gripped.

As it spoke, a chill ran over Essätha. She found it possible to tear her eyes away; finally, and back towards the scuttle. She lunged for it; knees hitting the floor.

It rolled upward, slamming shut before her very eyes.

Someone distantly cried out her name in alarm.

“Look at you,” the creature scoffed, reaching out with bony fingers. “You are just a girl. Only a frightened child.”

“Don’t touch me!” she shrieked, whirling away. She scooted back on her rear, using her hands to scrambling out of its reach. As it coaxed towards her; curling its fingers, she raised a hand to wave a shaky gesture; muttering the ancient draconic words of a spell.

A skeletal hand appeared; pale transparent and ghostly with a blue aura. It reached out; gripping the abomination crawling towards her by the face.

It loomed at her. The sickening appearance of a grin with what remained of the flesh on its cheek stretching up into a smile. More grimacing in appearance, but delighted.

“Oh Essätha, you can not get rid of me so easily.”

“H-How do you know my name?”

The skeleton laughed; husky and raspy. Its entire body shuddered violently, and maggots and flies came rushing out of its abdomen. Appalled, Essie drew herself further away.

“I know all of your names,” it sang. “Abernathy Harding, Adela of Rivesee, Amon Thomad Illiad, Penimra Korvis, Pri’cha Sunspot, Ravamora Carnivale, Sulhadur of Vuulthidel… And you, dear Essätha Meduza.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she held out out her hand as though it would keep the corpse away like a bared shield. Her other jerked and shoved at the attic’s door, but it wouldn’t budge. It didn’t so much as creak under her weight as she bore all of herself upon it. Anything was better then this unholy sight; even falling face-first into the floor below.

“What is one little Yuan-Ti doing so far from home?” the figure chortled, inching closer. “I forget myself; this one does not have a place to call their home.”

Her breath hitched, and a ghastly wash of sweat peppered her temples as she leaned away. Her face was drained of color, and her eyes round and wide enough to show her whites and the thin slit of her pupil.

“S-Stop.”

“You are a broken thing, aren’t you? A lost, broken, unsightly thing.”

“Leave me alone you don’t know me!”

“I know you better then you know yourself,” the monstrosity argued sweetly. The tones of is voice changed; altering until it sounded like a chorus of people were talking at once.

Gasping through a spring of tears, Essie was left to forfeit the door. She scurried backwards as the creature crept forward, allowing it to take a place on all fours, standing guard above the only exit she had. Below, the continued bellowing of voices, and a sharp thudding against the floor, reminded her that someone had to be looking for it. But it was muted; growing quieter. It existed less and less, and she could feel the hope dashed and draining from her chest until she was saturated in loneliness and terror.

Trapped and desperate, her eyes scanned the area for any sign of help. Her gaze paused on the lone window; much too high and too small for her to fit through, but her common sense had left her. Instead, forcing herself on shaky legs, she reached up for it. It lay out of reach of her fingertips.

“Where do you intend to go, little snake?” the Multi-Voices echoed, drawing on each syllable. When she did not answer; clawing at the wood with her nails, it spoke in Many-Voices of amusement, “What catastrophe’s you have wrought, dear Essätha. Do you think the next hiding place you claim will be any safer?”

“Please,” she whined, her heart hammering against her chest. Just a few more inches, that’s all she needed…

As she lunged and scratched the walls, a haze of black descended from the ceiling. She cringed, sliding down to her knees as the force of dark magic swirled like a storm’s black cloud above her head.

Another series of laughter; too many to count.

“You want to run, don’t you?” the Voices taunted. “You are a coward; only looking out for themself. You are going to fail them. People don’t fail you, do they, Essätha? You fail them. It’s what you do. It’s what you’re best at.”

Hiccuping, she sagged lower on the floorboards. All of her hope, her energy, her faith, her will; it was all gone. She had nothing. She felt weak, and tired, and empty. Helpless as a newborn babe, curling up into a ball against the wall. Her tears welled up to the surface, spilling over onto her cheeks silently as her breath hitched uncomfortably in unending silent sobs.

“You wonder why they do not trust you; why they do not want you. What is there to devote, from something so undependable? You are never there. They call you flighty, and skittish behind you back. If you are not ugly on the outside, perhaps it is the nature of what is inside that wards away everything you touch.”

“Stop it,” she whispered hoarsely, rocking herself. Tears spilled over the dams, rushing out, falling upon her clothes and the floor.

“No one is coming for you. No one wants you. No one is going to protect you; a stupid girl, a fragile child. What do you have to offer them? What importance does Essätha Meduza of nothing have?”

“STOP IT!”

Her cry unanswered, the being rattled closer. “They pity a poor Yuan-Ti; an animal tangled in their grievances. Better to be rid of it, but you are an obligation now, aren’t you? You do not really believe they could like you?”

She turned her head away, rancid breath close enough now to begin billowing over her as the creature whispered, “You do not really believe Lord Amon Thomas Illiad could possibly love a monster like you?”

Twisting her face away, Essätha shuddered violently. Her stomach churned, wanting to toss her last meal. The odor from the undead beast was becoming worse by the second; burning her teary-eyes and nose, making her skin crawl; as if any of the insects occasionally tumbling out of it were not already possibly skittering upon her clothes.

“Look at me.”

Ignoring the demand, she kept her face turned away; eyes squeezed shut.

The skeleton clattered closer still. It hissed out in a clear, singular voice this time; a foreign tongue she did not know nor understand, and grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to spin her face towards it.

Either by fright, or some unknown force, her eyes opened wide and frightened. She stared up into the unsightly view of the corpse’s face.

“Such a disappointment,” the Many sighed with sorrow, stroking her face with the back of its other hand. “Such potential, wasted.”

Essätha whimpered, trying to ball herself even more. She could not close her eyes. She could not close them, what was wrong with her? Why could she not look away? This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t possibly be real.

Within the black of its sockets, twin flickers appeared. She squinted, but could not turn away. It was quiet. There was no banging, no screaming, no hollering of her name. No one was coming.

No one was coming for her.

The pin-pricks of crimson suddenly flared up, revealing licks of flame. They began to burn a searing blaze, but emitted no light or no warmth.

Many roaring echoes of laughter; all different but sinister and gnarled as the twisted bony fingers touching her, began to fill the room, her head, the space. They were everywhere.

Essätha let out one, final scream.

#qhost story #Essatha Meduza #painfully written

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