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luvrlane · 3 years

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problems in the middle of the night | lhs, s

pairing. dom!bf!heeseung x fem!reader

warning/includes. GRAPHIC SEXUAL CONTENT, daddy kink, (slight) bulge kink, (slight) corruption kink, oral fixation, penetration, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), nasty piece of work. but there's a little bit of fluff in it if you squint lol. DO NOT engage in any way if you're a minor.

disclaimer. THIS IS ONLY A WORK OF FICTION.

heeseung wakes up with a breathy moan. his heart raced as did the tent in his pants. great, he's fucking hard.

he glanced over the nightstand beside his bed, clock showing it's 01:51 a.m, and if that isn't the worst thing, it's the fact that he had you in his erotic dreams and now he's hard. you, on the other hand, appeared to be sleeping peacefully beside him, blissfully ignorant to the problem he's currently having.

now what the fuck is he supposed to do? he couldn't go back to sleep nor abandon his hard on even if his life depended on it. he needs to do something about it and he'd admit, he was growing needy. a little help would suffice.

so he started out with his asking for help by kissing your shoulder blades. feeling up your sides, his lips moved to the length of your neck, leaving wet kisses all over his trace. the action made you stir in your sleep. you were a light sleeper, any small disruption is enough to wake you up.

heeseung's lips ghosted on the shell of your ears, pressing a gentle kiss before he called out to you ever so lovingly, "baby. baby," his voice was as gentle as his touch, coaxing you from your deep slumber. "baby, we've got a problem." he cooes, hands now reaching the valley of your breasts, giving one of them a light squeeze.

now you're awake. "heeseung, what is it?" drowsiness was laced in your tone. you fought hard to crack your eyes open. instead of giving you a verbal answer, he opted to pressing his dick onto your hips instead, guiding one of your hands to craddle the tent.

"i'm sorry, baby. i didn't want to wake you." the tip of his pointy nose was tickling your neck now, as he moved down from your ear back to your neck, pressing down light kisses on the expanse.

"but it couldn't be helped." though sleepiness was very much still clouding over you, you knew what he was asking you to tend to.

the amount of love you have for this man is insane.

if being needy wasn't enough, now impatience creeps up on him too. he couldn't wait to get his hands all over you. inside you. but he needed you to give him consent. "can i, baby?" heeseung asked, a little breathy.

a small smile made its way to your face. the limb that sat on his dick reached around until it transitioned to his hair instead. fluffy, fluffy hair, resembling a cloud. you gave it a light ruffle. heeseung naturally leaned more into your touch, loving the way your fingers feel on him. on normal days he's an absolute sucker for your pretty little fingers. he still do, even now, but there's a more preferred place he'd rather have your fingers on. so he asked again, "hm, baby? give me an answer, sweetheart. i need to have you. i want to fuck you nice and slow. right now, baby. i need you right now."

fuck. he was basically pleading. but he couldn't fucking careless. it's weird, you thought. even in this mood, heeseung was able to set butterflies in your stomach. you gave him a small nod, before you decided. "go ahead, daddy."

go ahead, daddy.

daddy.

he's fucked.

heeseung wasted no more second after you gave him an okay. you were already lying halfway on your stomach since before he woke you up, so he climbed over you, nudging your legs apart. your nightgown was riding on your ass now that he's had you spread out prettily for him. he pushed up a leg, and your heart started to drum.

lee heeseung will never not get your heart skipping a beat. even now, even when he's about to prep you, even when he's casting your nightgown to god knows somewhere in the bedroom. you never once uttered a complaint through it all. you let him get his way with you. not because he owns you. but because all the trust and devotion accumulated over the years you spent with him had proven its worthwhile.

so when heeseung spread your dry folds with his fingers, you whimpered. you have just woken up, after all. heeseung played with the nub, fingers never really entering inside you. "daddy.." you moaned out. the waves of pleasure is starting to arrive on the scene. heeseung had his face close to your cunt now, giving the plump lips a light peck, while a finger slowly eased in.

he intended to make you wet first, before anything. and his method so far is successful. a wet muscle licked stripes on your folds, it had you moaning a little louder this time. simultaneously, his one finger pumped in and out of you, while he's licking and sucking your bud.

and now, you're fucked.

your arousal started pooling around your pussy, due to his diligent fixation. heeseung eased a second finger, smearing the wetness around the lips of your cunt. "fuck, daddy. f-feels so good." fuck, fuck, fuck. it felt so, so, soo fucking good. honestly, fuck lee heeseung and his crazy oral fixation.

heeseung hummed a response. he sucked on your folds, with some of your juice sucked in too. his cock is even harder now. lord, you are the death of him.

then something pooled in your stomach. cum, you were going to cum. solely because of his fingers and tongue alone.

heeseung must've sensed this, the way your walls tightened around his three fingers now, as he had added another one just a little while ago. he raised his head, your juice daubed on his chin. "cum, sweetheart. cum on my fingers. then after this cum on my cock. over and over and over again." his words only heightened the feeling inside of you. your face contorted in pleasure, eyebrows knitted together as you bite down your pillow. your legs moved around hastily, you were unable to hold your cum no longer.

heeseung brought his face onto your pussy again. all it took was a lick over your folds, along with the nonstop draws of his thick, long fingers, and then you cummed. heeseung didn't stop his administration. instead, he slowed it down, helping you ride your orgasm. he smiled as he felt your walls are now much softer, more relaxed, ready to take him in.

heeseung withdrew his fingers out of you only to suck on them himself. tasting your cum, which he claimed as the sweetest ever. aside from your lips, that is. "good job, baby." he complimented you, and even with your face flushed out, he managed to get you blushing.

he rose up from his stance, blanket pooling on his legs, and he discarded his boxer, pulling out his god damn well endowed of a cock to give it a few slow stroke. you watched over your shoulder, pussy still spasming from the head he'd just given you. "gonna fuck you now, baby."

he didn't have to say that. if possible, your heart thrummed even harder than before.

with that, heeseung guided his hands onto your hips, pulling your ass back by a bit and raising them in the position he'd dreamt to take you tonight.

the clock is now 02:22 a.m.

he was showing no sign of stopping soon. in fact, lee heeseung had just gotten started.

your cheeks were smushed in the pillow now, given the position. "remember your safe words, baby?"

you gave him a confirming nod.

from there, heeseung pushed his fat cock into your hot, velvety walls. the two of you moaned in unison. the stretch was bearable, remember how he had prepped you with his three equally thick fingers. but it still stings. he was bigger than average, and longer too. god, you fucking love your boyfriend.

"look at it, baby. look how your pretty little hole is accomodating my cock. holy fuck. you're so hot." at this point, heeseung was a goner. "too big, yeah, baby?" though you couldn't see clearly, you could picture his stupid grin.

"too- too big.. but so good.." heeseung loved compliments. especially if it comes from you. especially if it's about him. especially if it's about how he's fucking you so damn sweet. honestly, fuck lee heeseung and his big, fat dick.

heeseung hasn't even entered himself all in. yet you feel so incredibly full already. you swear, you could feel him in your stomach.

he gave you few experimental thrusts at first, to make it easier for him to slide the remaining of his girth home. your moans took a higher pitch. "ah, ah, ah!" and lee heeseung fucking had the nerve to laugh.

your ass is hanging midair, and his dick is moving in and out of you. could this night get even better?

"breathe in and out, sugar. i'm going to bottoms up." you loved the way he's always, always giving you a heads up in whatever he's about to pull next. so you did as you were told, breathing in and out.

your toes curl when you feel heeseung pushing his hips tantalizingly slow into you, feeling every delicious stretch of his length, the veins protuding your walls. you couldn't close your mouth. you're all too fucked out now, and he hasn't even began fucking you properly.

"there we go. that wasn't so hard, was it? that's my girl."

that's my girl.

you're absolutely wrecked.

you were drooling. lee heeseung's dick had you drooling. whimpers were let out from you. you could feel every inch of him and he's filling you up so well.

then he rocked his hips. "daddy!" you yelped, out of both surprise and pleasure. "fuck, fuck! daddy!" the pool of blanket around his legs and yours began to follow his movement. he angled his hips a little higher as his arm rests on your the small back of your waist, pushing your ass down by a bit, and then he pistons inside you. you fucking screamed. "ahhh, daddy!"

"sweetheart. baby. sugar." heeseung groaned out. "your pussy. mine. mine." he punctuated his words with a set of hard thrusts. "only mine." he had you crying for real now. from the position the two of you took, the tip of his dick was abusing your sweet spot continuously. have you ever been fucked so good that you cried from pleasure?

"you. all of you. the whole of you." he declared. his dick is in your stomach now. you're sure of it. when he pulled out his cock, leaving the tip kissing your folds, he muttered, "you're only mine. all mine." and then he dived right back into you.

"yes! yes—ah! ah! y-yours!" you had to drag out the "o" and your hands are balling the sheets. "daddy!" he loved it. he loved hearing you scream. he loved fucking you good. he loved loving you. "and i'm only yours, sweetheart." he whispered, though midway through his sentence, he choked and grunted in pleasure. "until the end of time."

you couldn't contain your moans. not when your boyfriend's thick cock has made a home for itself in your pussy.

"so—good!" look at you. you failed to find it in you to form coherent sentence.

his pace had gotten quicker. he had picked them up, and your folds made a squelching sound from the collective arousal of you and your boyfriend. "uh, uh!" you attempted to wipe the tears from your face, but heeseung had interlocked his fingers with yours before you could even reach your eyes. his other hand was hoisting your hips up in an angle that presses down that exact bundle of nerves in you. your thighs began to shake.

"a mess. you're a me—ss." he stuttered in between his words. it only go so far to prove that this rutting is affecting him too. very intensely.

you let go of his fingers to reach around your back, placing your hand on his pelvis. "y—yellow.." you muttered out.

yellow. a change of position. he smiled and slowed his tempo down.

heeseung had set your bums down, with his dick very much still in you. then, he turned you around so carefully, until your eyes are meeting his. your hair has gotten all over your face, but he didn't mind. he took one leg over his shoulder, and bent down to press a quick kiss on your lips, your inner thighs burning at the action.

now, you're all in his view. your face. your perky, round mounds. chest rising up and down. the curve of your sides. your slick, wet core. still attached to his dick. if you glance down, you could see the wide stretch. luckily for heeseung, he didn't need to glance down, for it's all before him already.

heeseung left a peck on your leg, dangling over his shoulder. he took one of your arms, giving your knuckles a peck, too. and then his hips stirred. "..!" you weren't alarmed. "oh!"

your eyes almost screwed shut due to how deep he's hitting inside of you. the expression you had on was dumb, and there's only one person to blame: fucking lee heeseung. he abandoned his hold on your legs and fingers, his hands now clamming your sides, pressing you down on him.

"fuck, baby. look." following his order, your eyes trailed to where he's looking. your stomach. you could feel his dick moving. no, you could see his dick moving. that seem to drove him even further south. "fucking hell, sweetheart. your cunt is too tiny, the way it stretched at my width. and now i'm reaching your stomach. you're driving me crazy."

as if he wasn't driving you crazy too. you arched your back at his comments and his thrusts, chants of his name falling out of your lips. "da—ddy! ah, ah!" you dragged out the "a", your eyes rolling back. "slow—down!" heeseung's forehead creased, pounding into you like a mad man quelching his thirst, he was unavailable to comply to your request. your commands only made him set his pace quicker.

you're going to cum. heeseung is moving way too rapid, every drag of his cock are designated into assaulting your sweet spot. if you were drooling on your pillow before, now you're drooling in your face.

"eugh! da—ddy," your throat was hoarse from screaming. he could feel the way your walls closed on him. it made him choke, struggling to keep up with his own pace.

"yes, baby? what is it that you need?" the leg on his shoulder is shaking, and you're bucking your hips wildly.

"c—cum.. i need to cum.."

"then cum, baby. all over my cock." was all it took for you to spasm all around his length, coating them with your fluids. heeseung leaned down to leave kisses on your neck while you were chasing your high, muttering praises that were lost in the hazy feeling you were having from pleasure. "that's my girl. good job, baby."

heeseung's hips faltered into a series of slow thrusts. he lied about fucking you nice and slow. none of this was nice nor slow. it was intoxacting, all consuming.

you were in and out of consciousness when heeseung tapped your waist. "stay with me, sweetheart. we're not done yet."

the clock is now 03:49 a.m. on most days, heeseung is a man of words. he keeps his promises and says things from the bottom of his heart. but once in awhile, in cases like tonight, he felt like having a cheat day.

#enhypen hard hours #heeseung smut #heeseung hard hours #lee heeseung smut #enhypen smut

724 notes · View notes

rouiyan · 4 years

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hmm im quite new to tumblr and honestly am dissapointed with the lack of GOOD doyoung fics on here. can I request a scenario or a drabble (whichever u see fit) of doyoung taking me along when 127 were touring and the moments we had (backstage/fights and making up/ comforting when he felt unsatisfied with his perfomance/moments with some other members too) I just miss 127 touring a lot !! and ofc if this is too complicated u can refuse lol

hey lovely, this ended up way longer than it should have been but it’s really just a bunch of drabbles strung together that have somewhat coherence to another. i liked the way it turned out though and i hope that you do too <3

𝐨𝐟 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐈𝐆 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 — idol!doyoung x (gender neutral) reader ✧ genres : established relationship, fluff, angst ✧ word count : 4.7k ✧ disclaimers : swearing, food

synopsis — snapshots of what it's like to travel with your boyfriend. oh an his nine other teammates.

“how much space do you have left there?”

doyoung peers over you, chin propped atop your shoulder, and even though he sees for himself quite plainly, you supply him with an answer anyways, “not much, just the front pocket now.” his chin digs and you shift your head the slightest in his direction, to appease him with your attention maybe. he doesn’t budge nor speak so you take it upon yourself. “what?”

“quick kiss?”

plucking the garment from the assortment of items he'd passed along, you inspect it with curious eyes, "you gonna wear this?"

"huh? oh, that." he sits back on his knees, then onto his bottom, then crossing his legs, "i thought i'd give sleeveless a try." you don't mean for it to come out offensively, rather teasingly in actuality, "you?"

unbothered, he simply muses on, "yeah, me. why?" with eyes rushed and flitting across his surroundings for a sight of his phone. now you're even less in the intent of offending him, more so just pushing his buttons in the face of humor, a humor that's evident in the way you glance up from the tee, eyes locking with his own and shadowing with mischief, "with what muscles?"

doyoung clicks his tongue, sticks it into the side of his cheek, and now back on his knees, treads over to where you're sat, countenance teeming with amusement. his demeanor himself traces in the slight of a smile that's yet to appear, only held back as he defends his biceps, "hey, i've been working out, you know." you watch him situate himself once again, legs crossing just opposite of your own. placing both your hands on both his knees, you lean in, lips puckered and nose scrunched either in emphasis or hilarity, he isn't quite sure though he thinks it's cute. that is, until you speak again, "you want your kiss? how bout now?" and he mirrors with an, "i'll pass," standing to retreat back into the hunt for his missing phone, head shaking all the while at your devious antics.

minutes later and upon finding it within the folds of his sheets, doyoung reverts his attention back to you who, by the looks of it, has just finished packing for the night with both sides of your suitcase clamped shut but yet to be zipped. his feet are planted firm on the ground when you move to stand in between them. they're off the ground a moment later when you push him back into the bed with an 'umph' and a hug that pulls both your bodies flush against each other's.

you'd go on about it for days but to you, doyoung has always been a silent lover. a kind of lover that people would mistake as just 'a friend of yours' or sometimes even a brother, cousin, relative of the sorts. by no means is he vocal with his love for you, and though times are abundant when you find yourself at dead ends with the thoughts of how he seemingly flits between, in and out of love, the one thing that never fails to reassure you is how he holds you tight.

forehead on his chest and arms laced around his back, you do your best to hold him as closely as he does you but it's impossible, you think, and not because of his so-called 'muscles.' the intimacy you share with him is bred from comfort, apprehension, normality. it's apparent when he next speaks, voice lower and reserved for when you are close and the tingling feeling in his heart softens his regard a tenfold, "excited?"

you lift your head to peer up at him. the same softness is returned in your one-word response, "elated," as you thud your temple back upon his chest. the chuckles he give reverberate beneath you, "sarcasm or no?" a shake of your head is given but doyoung craves more. hands on your waist, he manhandles you, in the gentlest possible way, so that your head lies in the dip of his neck, arms around his shoulder, and legs on either side of him. he knows that at this point, your energy is already teetering the lines of consciousness. he makes the most of what little you have left.

"kiss me?"

a sloppy peck is left at the foot of his neck and your lips stay there for the rest of the night.

the wind slaps at the skin of your face. you swipe away a hair or two that it'd blown into your mouth, open as you exclaim into the wide air before you. the city air is noticeably laden with light pollution and carbon emissions alike but it's refreshing to you who has spent the greater part of the day limited to a cramped airplane seat. the shuffle of feet, a sound that's barely discernible in the mix of whizzing cars and honks, calls for your attention from behind. heeding to it, you find doyoung, swaddled in a sizeable down coat, with his eyes squinted in the wind. "coming in soon? you've been out here yelling for almost twenty minutes."

you give him a look that makes it seem as if the situation were of a scolding mom and a naughty child. it's like you're adhering to the script because apprehensiveness does indeed rest in your wary response, "i just wanted to try it, like how they do in the dramas, you know?"

his tone chides, "yeah, yeah i know," while dragging you back inside the warmth of the hotel room, sitting you atop the bed, crouching before you. "doyoung, what are you-" though bizarre, the prospect of a ring emerging from behind his back does cross your mind. instead, he draws forth a bottle of wine.

you comment on it a little later, four hours, with jaehyun sprawled upon the bed to your left, snores loud and resounding in between the sentences of your hushed (and very much drunken) conversation. "you know, earlier when you brought out the wine, i thought you were actually going to propose to me." under the lamplight from the bedside table, your boyfriend's cheeks are tinged a soft pink, flusteredness maybe, inebriation surely. his head slops forwards onto your stomach, off and out of the hold of his palm, and lolls there for awhile before his dwindling bouts of energy jolt him upright. the sudden movement of his elbows digging into your abdomen have you groaning until a light smack is landed on his forehead. doyoung gives you a sleazy smile.

"maybe."

suddenly you're very much sobered up. "what'd you say?" though doyoung is still very much intoxicated as his head tumbles down upon your stomach once more, mumbling against your skin, "i did bring a ring to surprise you. i don't know if now's the time though, what do you think?" you don't think, in fact, you are completely and utterly void of thoughts. his, "hm?" pulsates from beneath you but even then, you're at a loss of words.

"i think—" i think yes. "i think you ought to go to sleep."

when you will your eyes upon his figure, perhaps a minute later, you find that per your instruction, he's already fast asleep.

the flight from jakarta to london is 15 hours (too) long and you'd planned to spend a good chunk of it doing what you were doing now, seat reclined the furthest possible and knees brought up to your chest to prop up your switch. you'd come to the conclusion that packing your earbuds in your suitcase that went into cargo was perhaps your first big mistake; your second, forgetting to ask doyoung for his before he fell asleep. with the volume turned to mute for the past four hours and counting, you scrunch your nose as your animal crossing character silently stumbles across another wasp-laden tree, third in a row, but before you're able to net it, your boyfriend stirs from beside you, his fingers tapping incessantly on your wrist to call for your attention. you glance over at him, "what?" and when you glance back to the screen, you're displeased, to say the least, to see that your character now has a swollen eye, courtesy of the wasp and its programmed sting.

the look on your face when you drop your feet to the ground, the device dropping to your lap, is enough to get doyoung to cut straight to the point. "i need to brush my teeth, wanna come with me?" puzzlement clouds your expression and he furthers in explanation, "you know, to save time?" still not quite getting his point, you nod along anyways, thinking a little walk and stretch to the bathroom wouldn't hurt. "okay."

taking his outstretched hand, the journey to the bathroom turns out to to be the most stressful. the whole row of three very tall men (jungwoo, jaehyun, and johnny in that order) with their very long legs making the situation a lot more complicated than need be. you end up tripping once over jungwoo's left foot, twice over jaehyun's right shoe, and thrice over johnny's right knee, a lot higher than where any normal knee should mark when planted straight on the ground.

the lock on the lavatory clicks shut behind you right when you realize just how small the compartment is. doyoung closes the toilet lid and props a knee upon it, leaving you with enough space to place your legs shoulder-length wide at most. you look over at him, or rather, you tilt your head slightly to the right and chuckle into the fabric of his hoodie, his chest pressed into your face. you manage between your chuckles, "go on, brush your teeth."

his arms bustle their way around and about you to grab at one of the packaged toothbrushes at the left of the sink and a paper cup at the right. there really is no way around it though a moment later, he relents by taking both legs upon the toilet seat to accommodate you. his kneeling stance stunts his height so that you're at about eye level with him. "here," you pass along the toothpaste and he flicks a dot of it on the brush. instead of stretching over to the sink, he simply passes along the toothbrush for you to run under water, passes the cup for you to do the same, and accepts them back with grateful hands. "you know, this would've been a lot more efficient if you'd just gone by yoursel—"

"i know," he says it as if unimpressed, though it sounds more like 'iiroe' (or some other incoherent keyboard spam) as he continues to brush his teeth. you prop your hands upon your hips, both elbows hitting opposing walls and a teasing lilt is added to your voice, "are you mad you brought me along?" you're not sure if he's smiling or if he's simply following through with his teeth-washing regimen. doyoung shakes his head, "no." you smile at that.

you know for a fact that he's smiling when the two of you switch spots, quite the haphazard move for your head clunks onto an overhanging cabinet while his back is then subjected to half your falling weight. a hand of yours is quick to clamp over his mouth right when you gather your bearings because his laughs come out loud in between panting breaths. you're terrified at the thought of being caught by a passing stewardess who'd suspected two people and some funny business upon breaking in, only to find two people, yes, but one brushing teeth on the closed toilet lid and the other laughing hysterically with a hand clutching his sore back.

doyoung backs out of the bathroom at first alone, head snapping left and right in a spy-in-a-secret-agent-movie-esque way, before tugging you behind him, the folding door clapping shut. he waits as you prod careful steps over the three soundly sleeping men and he grins when his turn comes and he epically fails in his attempt to cross over in one, sweeping step. he apologizes sheepishly at the three, now awake though still very tall, men and he turns back to you, only then letting the suppressed sniggers out.

if not your lover, doyoung is your best friend. there's something reassuring about having someone that always has your back. whether it just be laughing with you, crying with you, sitting with you in silence as you both scroll through your phones, or even now, as he peers over your shoulder to watch your little character fish the same sea bass over and over again. you like the comfort that you share with him, the comfort you were so lucky to have happened upon.

the armrest in between is pushed up as you slip your switch back into the front pocket of his backpack. doyoung holds an arm out and you slip into the warmth of his side, head bobbing to the turbulence and onto the heights of his shoulder. he glances down at you, briefly, and when your eyes meet his, they curve into the sleepiest of smiles. the two of you sleep with the pace of your breaths in tandem with each other's, the two of you wake under the announcements of a landing, and your fingers hook onto the sides of his backpack as he leads the way off the plane, in a single file line all the way.

doyoung drapes a jacket over your shoulders the second you break the open air of london and he hooks the same jacket above your head where the awning of the airport stops and the thundering skies continue their downpour where it left off. his hand provides cover as you duck into the car, so as to prevent you from hitting the frame of the door, and when he slides in, right next to you as always, you grab his hand in your own, eyeing each other with the indications of a smile.

it's then, as you point to the little droplets that whizz across the window of the car, that doyoung finds himself face to face with the same conclusion that he comes to time and time again. he loves you, a lot.

the palm of his hands slide down the satin fabric of his slacks, repeatedly. the look you throw his way has him gulping. "you sure you're not nervous?" his hands stop midway, too obvious it seems. "not at all." a quirk of your lips is given in response as you take the seat next to him in the waiting room. you watch as he tucks his bottom lip under teeth and you watch as his hands shift in their continuation down his thighs but retract and interlink as if they'd remembered not to do so. a stage manager knocks once before bursting in, sweat trickling down the sides of her face and a side of her headphones pulled backwards of an ear. she pants though the show has yet to begun. "five minutes and he has to get backstage," is what she directs at you and you pair your nod with a kind smile, signaling her exit.

the interaction only seems to ignite increasing bouts of anxiety from your already antsy boyfriend so you take his hands in yours, situating your body a smidgen to the right, and do your best to absorb his attention in something, anything else that could sidetrack his nerves for just those five minutes.

"excited for tomorrow?" doyoung's hands squirm in yours and his facial expression morphs into a flicker of confusion before righting itself and following through with a reply, albeit half-hearted, "yeah, i guess."

"it's your first day off in awhile," you give his hand a squeeze, "and we get to explore the city, all by ourselves." he only nods along and though you're sure your attempt is futile, you hope that it falls through, "and new york's up next huh, i bet the snow will be real prett-"

"what are you getting at?"

it takes a second for you to process what he'd just did, what he'd just said, "what?" though looking at him, he's nonchalant as ever; the tone in which he rejoins makes it seem as if he's ticked off somehow, "why are you telling me this?"

doyoung's brows draw to a point and it throws you off. he is ticked off. and it's plausibly that realization that gets you taking a stand for yourself as well, voice now clipped, "i just thought that i could preoccupy your thoughts for a bit, you seem so ne-"

"y/n." stopped in your tracks, you blink back at him benumbed. "i've already got enough on my plate as it is, why can't you just let me deal with my own shit?"

there's something brooding beneath the face you put on for him. he sees it surfacing and he has enough sense to pay mind to it. that is, until you retort, "your own shit? then why the fuck am i-"

"yes, my own shit. last i checked, i'm the one going up on that stage tonight so stop talking as if it's our job." and his defenses are held back up, sky-high, untouchable. doyoung's scowling at you as if you've never been more wrong in your life when in fact, you're almost positive that he's never been more at fault. the clench in his jaw, his hardened eyes, edged stance, everything about him in the moment jars you and you want nothing more than to punch him square in the nose (you do have quite the mad uppercut) but you restrain yourself under the pretense that he's minutes, maybe even seconds, away from being called to the stage, to perform.

sighing, the only thought that comes to your mind as you gather your bearings along with your belongings is the feeling that creeps between the synapses that once had held tight in your belief of his support, of his leniency, of his affections when it came to you. you swallow thickly, bag in hand and other hand reaching out for your coat, because you're sure you've never felt as unwanted as you do now, in front of him, glowering in your presence. at least the glint in his eyes soften when you come to a stop in front of him.

doyoung peers up at you then, dubiously, and the first urge he receives is to duck his head back down. he feels small, and not because he's sitting and you're standing. he feels small, infinitesimal, with the knowledge that somewhere in those five minutes, things had gone awfully awry with little hope in rectifying in the little time left. the air that hangs heavy between the two of you remains silent, save for the unspoken passing of words that neither of you acknowledge. you're the first, and last, to break it.

"are you mad you brought me along?"

doyoung wishes he'd been quicker in denying. maybe that would've been enough to keep you from excusing yourself the second the stage manager had made her reappearance. maybe that would've been enough to get you to stay, to watch him, to cheer him on, to support him. maybe that would've calmed his nerves, finally, at last. he doesn't know, he's having a hard time deciphering his thoughts, chunking through his regrets, wallowing in his worries.

doyoung gets into position. the only thing he knows is that he's in the right spot, the glow-in-the-dark tape tells him so. he'll have to sing soon, and maybe his scratchy voice will add to his pile of regrets. he'll have to dance too, to remember formations, stage directions, but the idea seems so far away, foreign, when all he can think of is the look on your face as the seconds dragged on, waiting for him to say 'no,' to say 'of course not,' to say 'i'm sorry, i love you.'

he's having a hard time because even now, long after you've left, the words stay lodged in his throat. and as the screams from just beyond grow louder and louder, as the lights overhead grow brighter and brighter, doyoung finds himself face to face with the same conclusion that he comes to time and time again. he needs you, he needs you more than ever.

it's dark and cold when doyoung first enters. to the right, he flicks the light on mindlessly to be met with an empty room. he supposes that it's warranted. setting his backpack upon the bed, sheets still pulled crisp and unfurled, he almost succumbs to the taunts of sleep that entice him but a single thought of you rectifies him, hand fishing out his phone from a back pocket of his jeans.

it's then that he notices, with a startle that rivals a starring victim in a horror movie, the door to the balcony propped open a finger's length. he takes a glance back at the entrance to see your discarded shoes that had went unnoticed just seconds before, he figures. the curtains that skirt the adjacent windows billow in the wind that veers past the crack allotted, the gusts that becomes stronger and more fervid with each step doyoung takes in the direction. there's no creak that accompanies the swinging of the door, though he wishes there were so he wouldn't have to break his presence to you so suddenly. the second thing he notices, just behind the fact that you are indeed out here, is that the air is a biting cold, explaining the initial temperature he was met with upon entering.

you're wearing the same, thin sweatshirt that you had donned for your backstage viewing of the concert, regrettably the coat had been neglected in your state. from the far edge of the balcony, you know there's a whole world splayed out before you, buildings lower, taller, equally as tall as the high-rise of your hotel, winding streets that never seemed to end, traffic that never seemed to move. you know, but it's impossible to see for yourself with the tears in your eyes that come as fast as they go.

time is stagnant, has been for hours upon hours, for you. for you also, crying is foreign territory, really, you'd like to consider yourself headstrong in the face of conflict and composed in the face of inner turmoil. it feels silly to find yourself hundreds of feet in the air and hundreds of miles away from home, sobbing in the light of an ineffectual fight with your boyfriend of three years. and it isn't as if the fight proved detrimental to the relationship, it was trivial in all the ways that pointed to the single course of action being to simply make up with him and move on. but somehow, your hesitance holds in resilience.

you don't want to admit how unnerving it was to see an argument stem from such a small trifle, such a small amount of time, such a lack of care. why is it that situations that seem so small in their doing hold the most significance in their passing?

doyoung clears his throat and now you're the starring victim in a horror movie. a, "holy fuck!" accompanies the startle and the knuckle-white grip that both of your hands impose upon the rail. he steps fully out of the hotel room, into the frigid air of a london night, a london midnight in the middle of winter. "sorry, i- i'm back." rather lame but there's little headspace for you (or him for the matter) to process that.

with a hand still on the nob, doyoung stands stiff across from you who is slowly but surely withering in the realization of how pitiful you must look, hair mussed in the wind, tear tracks evident, and the remnant pants that your hiccups had left in the wake of your breakdown. if not pitiful, then straight up pathetic.

"are you okay?"

you blink at him. there's not much else you can say except, "yeah, i'm okay."

doyoung takes a step closer, a hand off the nob and the door clicks shut behind him. two more steps and he's a two foot distance from where you're stood on the far right of the terrace, gaze intent on his every action. he doesn't say anything at all, and what vexes you the most, he simply opens his arms wide, a forlorn sort of smile settling across his features. his apology.

there's not much else you can do except to give in to his embrace, reminiscent of all the love you've ever come to know, all the love you will ever know. you cry again, once in his arms; something about the smell of him, the warmth he gives off on a cold winter night, that gets you sniffling into his chest, finger fisting his own sweatshirt at the small of his back. a hand of his rounds your figure and holds you upright, the other is lain on the back of your head, soft strokes to tell you that he does care, he's here for you. really, the one thing that never fails to reassure you is how he holds you tight.

hundreds of miles from home, scratch that, because right there in his arms, there is nothing more convincing than the fact that doyoung is your home, you are home.

mark sips on his smoothie until the straw begins to make those whistle-y, echo-y sounds that tell of how he's finished the drink. a passing waitress takes the emptied glass from him and he gives a nod to her muttered, "refill?"

glancing back, he's met with a plate of food that's been cleared for a good while now and a table of mostly drunk boys that can't seem to get a hold of themselves. taeil, quite the horrific drunk, is slopped over haechan's side. neither of them seem to notice. and then there's yuta, taeyong, and jungwoo, all seated in a row and all with their heads fallen straight on the table, backs hunched over. sicheng and johnny are nowhere to be seen but mark supposes it wouldn't be all that odd to find one of them lain out flat on the floor, or underneath the table, or even suspended from the ceiling at this point.

mark glances across the table, locks eyes with jaehyun who had also decided to remain sober for the night. jaehyun gives a nudge of his head over to his right, to where mark looks to his left to see you and doyoung at the end of the table engrossed in conversation, so much so that it seems as if you're leaning into each other, elbows propped on the table and all. he could chalk it up to the speakers, the music was turned pretty loud, so naturally you'd lean in to hear the other better. or maybe, mark thinks, maybe the two of you are just naturally drawn to each other, a thing that happens to couples as he'd heard, subconscious actions like these are plausible as well. or maybe, mark thinks, but his train of thought is interrupted when the waitress returns with his strawberry smoothie, straw exchanged and drink refilled. he takes it from her, a gracious, "thank you," supplied and when she turns to leave he takes a sip, turning back himself.

whatever made it into his mouth is spat right back out when he sees the scene unfolding before him. here is mark's inner narration on what's happening:

doyoung-hyung's not in his seat, huh. oh there, he's standing, no wait—now he's kneeling, oh, he's kneeling. what's he getting from his pocket? a box, it's a teeny box. he's opening teeny box, oh fuck, oh jesus, oh he's proposing. he's asking you to marry him. oh my god, what if you don't say ye-

"yes."

✧ end note — hey anon, i hope that you thought it was a GOOD fic. if not, ahem, i apologize for taking up your time. but really, this fic holds together so many mini ideas that i had but were never substantial enough to turn into writing so thank you for giving me a base to build off of, i enjoyed writing it very much <3

#neowritingsnet #neothestars #doyoung fic #doyoung fluff #doyoung angst #neo-constellations #neoculturecafe #nct doyoung #doyoung x reader #doyoung scenarios #nct scenarios #nct fics #rouiyan fics #rouiyan writes #requested

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pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years

Text

Πᾰ́σχω (νοσταλγία deleted scene)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Πᾰ́σχω (páskhō): to feel an emotion or impulse; (in negative sense) to suffer (Ancient Greek)

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: So, another deleted scene/chapter. This takes place between chapter 21 and chapter 22 (After Ivar’s PoV chapter)

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: My horrible writing, but aside from that nothing other than the usuals lol

A/N: I’m sorry I’ve been posting so many things for this story and others lol. I’ll probably slow down closer to the holidays, give you guys a break from me.

Thank you, hope you give this a chance and hope you like it. Love ya

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson @peachyboneless @1950schick @punkrocknpearls

One of the first mornings you wake a wife to someone, you find yourself surprised to find Ivar continues to sleep when you awaken. Unusual would be an understatement, since you usually wake up every morning because of the ruckus the thralls make when walking in at the request of the King, or he wakes you by promptly lifting the furs off you when he gets out of bed.

For a few moments -that you’ll deny to your very grave ever happened- you lay in the soft light of the morning and let your eyes hungrily take in his features when he lies relaxed in sleep; you let yourself forget what brought you here and what awaits you in the world past the two of you and imagine a life of this, of quiet mornings and safety and peace, a life where it wouldn’t feel like a betrayal to who you are to lean closer and chase the warmth of his skin or the thrill of his lips on yours.

But that isn’t the life you have, and even if your heart is soft and foolish, it is also proud and stubborn. So, you slip from under the furs and walk away silently to get dressed.

You are lifting your hair up in a simply updo when Ivar’s voice calls out to you.

“Your dress,” He points out, “It’s still unlaced.”

You bite back a smile and feeling a strange thrill run through you at the subtle change in his voice when he first wakes up. Choosing not to dwell on it, you walk to the bed where he still lays, sitting down on the edge of his side of the bed and turning your back to him, a silent prompt for him to lace it for you.

He huffs in what in another life, a life of less pain and less harshness, could have been a laugh; and starts working the laces at your back.

But there’s no hiding the trembling in his hands, and you straighten as cold fear runs down your spine. You turn around with the foreboding of someone used to noticing people’s pain, you meet his eyes with the calculating gaze of a healer.

“Your eyes are…” You whisper before you can trap the words behind your lips. Blue.

A shield wall forming before your very eyes would be a more subtle change than the one Ivar has at the mention of it. His expression hardens, his eyes grow cold and his voice is that of the King of Kattegat instead of that of the man you married when he orders,

“Get out. You have a day to get on with.”

You frown, and your tongue begs to ask questions stubbornness does not let past your lips.

You’re carefully pulling your hair into a half-updo when Ivar makes the first attempt to get out of bed. He succeeds, but he doesn’t succeed in masking the very obvious pain he is in, nor in making you feel any less worried.

You’re fastening a cloak around your shoulders when he finishes putting those iron contraptions around his legs, with more difficulty than usual. You’re once again told, by either the instinct that made you a good healer in the Roads, or something else, that he isn’t well, that he’s in pain, that…that something is wrong.

“Are y-…”

Whatever it is you were to ask dies in your throat with a choked gasp as you watch him fall to the ground. The sound of a bone snapping out of place is something you are very familiar with, but the scream of pain it draws out of Ivar is not something a thousand years could make you be used to.

You realize you’ve stepped closer when your husband brandishes a knife your way.

It unsettles you less than it should, it surprises you even less. You have the errant thought of whether Kattegat and her King have succeeded in making you lose your mind.

“Get. Out,” He bites out, but you can still hear the pain in his voice. You can still tell that knee is not properly set, and you know how to fix it. If he’d just let you… “Get out!”

Your words die in your throat, but your fear of him died long ago, so you don’t say anything, but you also don’t leave.

He moves with gritted teeth and strain written all over him to sit on one of the lower chairs. When his eyes lift to meet yours again, you see not only the expected pain and fury written in them, but also…shame.

And Ivar’s eyes fall from yours, and a cold hand grips at your heart but nothing of who you are can make this better. If you are as hardship made you, stubborn and arrogant and sharp-tongued, he’ll only fight back at you until there’s nothing left of either of you. If you are as nature made you, soft and gentle and loving, he’ll only think you pity him, mock him.

But he doesn’t give you a choice. Sharp orders he barks at nothing summon two thralls and a stoic Whitehair that stands tall in your doorway.

The older warrior looks at you with the impassiveness of a man following orders, but you turn your eyes to your husband.

“I don’t want you here.” He spits out, poison and vitriol.

You stomp your way out of the room.

____

You pointedly avoid Whitehair’s expectant stare as you pace on the other end of your bedroom door.

“Stubborn, insufferable, hot-headed…”

“It will take a while to list it all, my Queen.” The man dryly points out, startling a laugh out of you, but you shake off the brief levity it brings just as quickly.

“I should be in there.” You point out. The older warrior sighs, and leans back against a wall, arms crossed.

“But you aren’t.”

You bite down words about how perceptive he has proven to be, and instead shrug.

“I was kicked out of my own room,” You turn your eyes to the door, and bite out, “I’m a good healer, one of the best.”

“You are his wife.”

“All the more reason I should be allowed to help him.”

“He doesn’t want you to think him weak.”

“I d-…”

“I know, little one,” He interrupts, nodding his head. You are stunned into silence at the term of endearment no one except your mother has used on you. He looks at you with a reluctant softness in his one good eye, strangely paternal when he shrugs, “But he doesn’t. He is young, he’s yet to learn many things.”

Another scream you never wish to hear again pierces the dull silence between you and the man assigned to guard you, and you flinch away with a curse from the source of the pained scream that quickly morphs into an enraged yell.

Turning your back to the door, you start making your way quickly and confidently to the apothecary.

Whitehair’s voice is a quiet grumble when, as he trails behind you, he states, “You are also Queen of Kattegat. Don’t forget that.”

Your steps falter as you realize the meaning behind his quiet words, but still you say nothing and continue walking.

____

Valdís raises her gaze from the dried herbs she’s working on when you enter, a smile ready on her lips that falters when she sees you.

The shieldmaiden stands without a moment of hesitation, crossing the room to get to you.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Her hand finds your shoulder. “You are shaking.”

Gritting your teeth, you mumble you are well, and walk past her, towards the back of the apothecary. You feel Valdís walking behind you, tense and ready to face whatever it is that has upset you, ever the shieldmaiden.

You walk up to the elder and raise your chin.

“I wish to speak with you.”

“Of course, my Qu-…”

“Not as Queen of Kattegat,” You interrupt, but your steel resolve falters when you pick your next words. Running your tongue over dry lips, you amend, “As…as Ivar’s wife.”

The woman of white hair nods once, and motions for you to take a seat. At your hesitation, she chuckles, but says nothing as she does sit down on one of the chairs.

“Speak, my Qu-…my dear.”

“I know what he has told me, not what a healer could tell me.”

“Ah,” She murmurs, “Broken bone?”

“Displaced.” You correct.

And so the elder leans back on her seat, weathered hands folded over her stomach, and tells you what she knows. You cling to the words, reminiscent of those lessons the healers of the roads would give the wide-eyed girl you once were, and learn as much as you can of Ivar’s condition, what it means, how to treat it, what causes it, what worsens it.

She mutters she doesn’t know anything more of it, and so you nod, and ask,

“And who is the healer that-…”

“No one, I’m afraid. Usually a thrall will take care of the most pressing matter, and the King will prefer to handle it alone.”

“That’s…”

“Stupid?” Valdís offers from behind you. You offer a shrug, but yes.

“Before he became King, I was close to the healer that was to help him. Since he returned from England, he refuses to…be helped.”

“Why?”

“He’s-…”

“Paranoid.” Valdís states when the elder hesitates, and earns herself a wooden bowl thrown at her head by the older woman. The shieldmaiden laughs, but mumbles that it’s true.

“Reluctant,” The elder amends pointedly, “to be seen like this.”

“Would you be willing to help him now?” The woman hesitates, and you press, “If I asked?”

“If my Queen demands I do, of course.” Is what she settles for saying, and you accept the meaning behind her words with a sigh.

Valdís sees your resolve shining in your eyes, for the blonde rolls her eyes and mutters a curse.

“Sure, refuse to do as he says,” She grumbles, walking away, “That’ll work out.”

____

Shortly after, you walk to your room’s door with your head held high, your steps certain and your demeanor that of the woman your mother hated seeing in you.

You tilt your head to the side, keeping your eyes on the Thebesian, “I don’t think you understand, Narses. I said we will sail for Laconia.”

“The Spartans w-…”

“Your Anassa gave you an order,” You interrupt, not saying anything else and keeping your eyes on the warm ones of the man that claims to love you but wants to keep you obedient and quiet. When Narses keeps stubborn eyes on you, you insist with raised eyebrows, “It is best you obey me.”

He rolls his shoulders and grits his teeth, but eventually bows his head and leaves the tent. You don’t realize you keep holding on to the tension in your frame until your mother laughs.

“By Freyja and all the Gods, little one,” Sieghild runs a hand over her face, another short laugh leaving her lips, “You can blame your impulsiveness, your stubbornness, many of your faults on me. But that, that you cannot.”

Galla chuckles from her place at your side, still not lifting her dark eyes from the map before her.

“Annoying, is it not?” She spares you a glance from the corner of your eye, “Born with a crown on her head, this one.”

“What is it you can inform me of?” You ask the man set firmly by the door. He hesitates, but tells you that the King is resting for now, that he hasn’t heard anything in a while.

You move to enter the room, and the man moves to stop you.

A stray memory makes its way into your head when you hesitate by the door, meeting the eyes of the warrior that was given instructions by your husband not to let you in, and you hear the words as if they were spoken by your ear.

“Don’t lie to me, Priestess. You were made to rule, to command. Don’t pretend otherwise with me.”

And so you keep your spine straight and your eyes cold, “Move.”

“I-…”

“You will move.” You insist, tilting your head back to look at the man but not faltering in your stance.

In a result that surprises you, and stuns you for longer than it should, he does.

Thankfully Ivar isn’t here to see you begrudgingly accept he was right about something.

“Did he pass out, or did you give him something?” You ask quietly as you walk in, barely sparing a glance at the man that kneels by the fire.

The thrall stumbles into standing, and the first thing you do is eye his hands. He doesn’t look like someone trained in healing, much less trained in settling bones back into place.

“I-I…we didn’t give the King anything.”

The confirmation that the pain was enough to leave him unconscious makes your stomach tighten to a knot, and irrational and misdirected anger rise in you.

“Get out.”

You close your eyes and take a breath, trying to clear your head. There was a reason why you never treated those you…those close to you. A soft heart is a good quality in a woman, but not in a healer.

You need a steel spine and steady hands, you need unblurred eyes and certain voice. You need strength, and coldness, and distance.

You can muster the first of those, but when it comes to the insufferable man that the Gods fated to be your husband, you fear you can’t say the same about the other two.

“M-My Qu-…”

You lift an eyebrow, returning your eyes to his.

“I don’t like repeating myself. You are dismissed. If I call for you, you will go to the healers. Valdís knows who to send if needed.”

He bows his head, and leaves the room quickly enough, leaving you with the feeling he was ultimately relieved he doesn’t have to be here anymore.

You watch him leave, and when the door closes behind him, and you are left alone with Ivar, you feel something within you quiver and give away fragility.

It is easy, finding the routine of getting to work, finding your center in picking the right herbs and remembering old instructions.

Yet you find your gaze finding the figure of your husband on the ample bed, eyes squeezed shut at the pian that you see making his body tighten to a coil every few moments, brow shining with the sweat of exertion and teeth gritted to keep most of the sounds of pain at bay.

Refusing to let go of control even when unconscious, you realize. And it doesn’t surprise you.

You’ve come to know a lot about him, in these past months. From Aneridge, to those days on route to Kattegat, to the time you’ve spent as his prisoner and as his wife in this kingdom of cold. Not a thousand years at his side, you realize, not all the trust in the world and all the spilled secrets, would give you an inkling as to what life has been like for him.

His manic conviction that the Gods were to reward him for enduring pain and grief and sorrow for years on end; his certainty you were, if nothing else, a gift for having endured a lifetime of pain; it is understandable, you realize.

Something you will never forget or forgive, you are certain, but something you can understand.

You were barely ten when you first worked on willow extract. The motions for making it are by now engrained in your mind, and you could close your eyes and follow the directions countless teachers gave you.

Still, because you cannot help the stubborn softness that makes you who you are, your foolish heart that betrays your every ambition, your hands that shake as you prepare the tincture.

“Remember Aneridge?” You muse, even though you know you’re talking to yourself, “I gave you willow bark to help with the pain. This is…a stronger version of it. Bitter and yet sour. Awful, really.”

You open your mouth and you are ready to continue talking, even if to fill the silence and focus on something that isn’t the shaking of your hands, but you find Ivar’s eyes -like you’ve never seen them, clouded in pain and confusion, lost- set on you.

He murmurs your name, voice so quiet you almost read it on his lips instead of hearing it.

“You’re here.” He says, soft, with a strange mix of confusion and wonder. You are struck silent for so long, lost in the shades of blue of his eyes, on him.

And you think numbly to yourself that it is he they should whisper is capable of magic, for you feel the words being pulled from your lips as if under a spell.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

The words settle in your chest with the realization of how true they prove to be.

You swallow down that shame, and take a breath, lowering your gaze to your hands.

When you raise your eyes again, Ivar’s eyes are closed again, and even if there’s a furrow of his brows, the tension that speaks of pain written all over him, and his breathing is still the irregular pattern of trying to not let the pain win, it seems he is once again asleep.

When he wakes up again, you’re carefully examining the chess pieces he keeps on a nearby table, and become aware he’s woken up when he grunts how you shouldn’t be here.

“You should know better than to tell me what to do by now.”

“I didn’t want you to…to see,” That wasn’t what you expected. You expected anger, vitriol, not…resignation. Before you can ask what he means, he turns his head and once again faces the ceiling. A hoarse and bitter laugh that rattles inside your head leaves his lips, and he mumbles, “Thought I could make you forget.”

Realization dawns on you, and you sigh, “You don’t need to make me forget, you need to let me…”

“Help me? Spare me the pity, wife.” Ivar bites out, gritting his teeth and breathing sharply at what you assume to be a pang of pain that courses through him when he tries moving.

You grit your own teeth -though for a very different reason- and fail at biting back an annoyed sigh.

“You insist on this being Fate, why is it not Fate that I know how to help? Why is it not work of the Gods that you married a healer?”

The answer leaves his lips with ease, like the answer is obvious and it should be so for you too,

“Because I don’t want you as my healer, I want you as my wife.”

A deep breath, and you find your resolve, your certainty.

“I am your wife,” You remind him, unyielding, “And as the woman you decided to marry, I’m telling you I’m not letting you be in pain if I can do anything to help it. Now, this is a strong extract that helps with pain,” You lift a tisane of willow between you, and offer it, “You will drink this, you will rest until the pain dulls, and you will never again hide something like this from me.”

His eyes remain on yours, defiant and cold and angry and so many more things. You see in his eyes the growing anger at your unwillingness to bend; the desire to hurt back if only because he feels exposed and vulnerable; the relentless searching of any hint of a lie, of pity, of mocking.

You only raise your eyebrows, and move the hand holding the tincture closer.

He grunts out a curse you’ve never heard before and grabs the willow extract, dawning the bitter liquid in a quick gulp. Admiting he trusts you, admiting he believes you, are words that may never leave his lips.

You don’t need them, you realize.

____

Sometime later, you hear Ivar move, and out of the corner of your eye you notice he has sat up on the bed, his back on the bedrest, eyes -much clearer than before- set on you.

“I told you, I don’t want you here.”

“You told me to leave. I left,” You point out, turning around with your head tilted to the side, “You didn’t say anything about coming back.”

Instead of replying, he considers you in silence, before asking,

“Why do you…?”

His words die in a pained grunt, and seeing him in pain when you’ve been taught your whole life how to help people in pain makes your heart hurt deep within your chest.

Your hand reaches out to touch him, to try soothing him, before you realize what you are doing. But you stop yourself, bringing your hands back together in front of you, fingers twisting anxiously.

Taking a breath, you start replying, “What kind of wife w-…”

“The kind of wife that didn’t want to marry me in the first place.” He interrupts.

“Still, I care about you,” You insist, and when his eyes rise to meet yours with a surprise you weren’t expecting, you hurry to continue, “And, with all due respect to your people-…”

“Our people.” He corrects absentmindedly, attention once again focused on moving his legs to a more comfortable position.

“Our people,” You accept, and continue, raising your chin, “I’m the best healer in Kattegat.”

He turns to you with a mocking shine in his eyes, but it is dimmer than usual, “Arrogant.”

“Honest,” You supply instead, grabbing a pitcher of water and settling it to boil over one of the fires. As you wait for the water for the infusion, you turn on your side and eye the box you brought with you. After a moment of consideration, even if you know the answer, you start, “A salve would work best, but I’ll assume you’ll say-…”

“No.”

“Of course,” You nod to yourself. He hasn’t even let you see him without a shirt on, even after being married, so you knew what the answer would be to letting you see -and treat- his legs. “Infusions for the pain it is, then.”

“They won’t work.”

“The willow has worked, hasn’t it?” You point out, turning around. At his silence, you continue, “Then I’ll continue to try. I’m nothing if not stubborn.”

The Viking rolls his eyes, “You don’t have to tell me that.”

You acquiesce with a shrug, “You knew that when you married me.”

“Are you going to use that we’re married against me for much longer?”

“Till death do us part, Viking.” You mock, and that does earn you a chuckle and a wry smile, leaving you lighter and warmer.

____

You manage to convince him to take the hot lavender, primrose, and chickweed infusion. You do not, however, convince him to let you set that knee back into place the correct way, and not the sloppy work a thrall -who was most likely fearing for his life- managed.

“That is not properly set.” You argue through gritted teeth.

“Oh, no,” Ivar deadpans, “How will I ever walk again.”

You roll your eyes, but desist, and just put a hand on his shoulder to push him back to the bed.

Ivar narrows his eyes, “So gentle,” He mocks, “Is this the kind of healer you were in the Mediterranean?”

“No, because my patients were usually much less aggravating,” You point out, not missing a beat. Even if your eyes betray otherwise, you continue, “My gentleness is earned.”

“Oh, I’m sure many men have earned it. What was it in exchange for last, hm? An army?

Your nose curls in anger, and you take a deep breath, trying to mask how much the words hurt.

He doesn’t wait for you to say anything, masking his pain in a sigh that trembles past his lips and closing his eyes tightly.

“Probably kept the poor fool happy and blind until you were done with him, huh? You were everything he ever wanted, you promised your love and your trust until he bent over backwards for you; only to stab him in the back in the end.”

“I didn’t betray Narses.” You bite out, but the fight is instinctual, no heat or anger behind your words. All that’s left is hurt and the stinging shame of being reminded of your mistakes.

He doesn’t lose the cruel edge, the sick and punishing tone in his voice that seems to prove he delights himself in hurting you, “You did. You promised to marry him, promised to love him, yet here you are, married to another man. Promised all the same to the next man that vowed to fight the battles you cannot.”

There’s a part of you, a part of you that maybe is too alike him, that wants to fight cruelty with cruelty. Instead, you take a deep breath.

“I didn’t promise you that I would marry you in exchange for Stithulf’s head. I didn’t promise to love you, Ivar.” You remind him lowly, and surprisingly enough it grants you victory in this strange duel he engages you in.

His façade crumbles, his mask slips, and uncertainty and what could be a different kind of pain than the one he has been bearing for half a day now shine in his pale eyes.

“You didn’t have to. I guess I’m more of a fool than that Greek, hm?”

And just like that your fight leaves you as well, and you sigh, before finding a seat in one of the lounges near the bed. You don’t look at him as you speak, instead looking at your hands on your lap.

“I haven’t lied to you. And I won’t.”

“I could give you much more than he ever could.” He reminds you, but you shake your head.

“But I care for you more than I ever could have cared for him.” You reply easily, because the promise of freedom -a promise you know he won’t break, because…what was it? He might break a bone, but he would never break a promise-, of freedom to choose, lying at the end of the tunnel has made you more certain, more calm, it has soothed you, given you the chance to be true and admit things not a hundred years of torture could have made you admit before.

But, you gather, this certainty that once the Christian lies dead and your people are avenged you will be able to make the choice to leave or remain, the choice between hope and nostalgia; what this certainty gives to you -stability, certainty, peace- it has all taken away from Ivar.

So, you show your cards, you offer truths, you answer the questions his pride doesn’t let him ask.

You clean your hands on a nearby cloth and walk calmly to one of the lavender planters you keep in the room, carefully starting to pluck the drying or dying from the rest.

A frustrated sigh coming from the bed stops you, and without turning back but stills topping in your task, you call out,

“I’m not leaving, so don’t even think of ordering me to.”

“I know,” He grunts, irritated, “But I won’t have you making noise all over the room and distracting me. Get over here, and stay still.”

Your foolish lips curve into a flustered smile, because that’s the closest you’ll get, you think, to ever hear him say he wants you with him so he can rest.

You school your features before you turn around though, and even if you’ve already toed off the sandals and are getting on your side of the bed, you still taunt, “You could just ask me to lay with you, you know.”

Instead of replying, he closes his eyes and settles on the pillow. Fully aware he probably feels your eyes on him but frankly not caring, you sit, almost on your side with your legs drawn up close, and study him and the small twitches of pain and tension he still gives away every few seconds.

You dare think the pain has dulled, compared to earlier at least, judging by the sweat that pooled on his brow and the moans and whimpers of pain he couldn’t keep from leaving his lips even through gritted teeth.

“Tell me about your Gods.” He asks suddenly, without opening his eyes. You startle, betraying a small smile.

“They are just tales to you, aren’t they?”

“Mhm, but it is the same to you about my Gods.” He argues, eyes still closed and you find yourself stupidly missing the strange warmth mixed with electricity that runs through you when his eyes meet your own.

“No, I…I believe,” You debate with yourself for a moment about telling him that the same night prayers to Persephone for answers on why Fate had brought you to his side left your lips, so did prayers to Freyja. Instead, you whisper, “Your Seer told Sieghild about me, you know.”

This gets him to open his eyes, and before he can ask the questions you see shining in them, you continue,

“She came to Kattegat before she departed East with Rorik. She was told by the Seer that she was to return here a mother, and so she always held the dream of bringing me to Scandinavia with her. When we came here with the Saxons she …said it was Fate, that it was maybe too late, but Fate regardless,” You smile to yourself, absentmindedly trying to figure out the ins and outs of Ivar’s braids as you recall with a chuckle, “‘When the throne is empty, when the witch reigns, when the temple burns; the Gods will summon her here,’ she used to repeat that a lot.”

“That’s…the years Ragnar was gone. When my mother was ruling over Kattegat.” He states, not even a question.

You nod your head, feeling a strange knot of emotion in your throat that keeps you from speaking for the couple of times you try. After a deep breath, you insist,

“You’re supposed to be sleeping, not talking, by the way.”

“The pain is…duller,” Ivar says, even if he closes his eyes again, “It’s manageable, I can stay awake.”

“What do you want to stay awake for?” You ask around a chuckle, hopeless and so foolish.

He only shrugs, even if the movement is accompanied by a frown and a muted sound of pain that stays locked past tightly-pressed lips.

“Tell me about your Gods.”

You sigh, “One of my own choosing?”

“Yes,” He replies without hesitation, adding a moment later, “Those tell me the most about you, you know.”

Your lips curve into a smile, uneven and scared and truer than any other before, and you feel it is only so because Ivar’s eyes remain closed.

____

For what is left of the day, you remain at Ivar’s side. And thankfully he is able to spend most of that time in manageable pain -though, if you are honest with yourself, you try not to imagine what ‘manageable’ is to him, having lived with this his whole life. What he calls a good day would make any other fall to their knees in agony, most likely-, and some of that, actually resting.

You make yourself useful, in the time you spend at his side. Grinding some herbs you make the plan to keep at hand, reciting to yourself what you remember of useful ingredients for pain and broken bones.

At some point during the afternoon, you stop your counting in Greek of the ingredients you know, trying to make a mental list of those you will be able to acquire, and in the silence you leave behind Ivar hums a complaint.

You roll your eyes, and continue once again listing ingredients and techniques in your own tongue, your voice soft and barely above a murmur.

The next morning, when you pointedly move a platter with elderberries and a sweetened tisane of willow to accompany them to the center of the table, Ivar narrows his eyes.

“You’re not as subtle as you think you are.” He grumbles.

You reply only with a smile as you place some of the berries -what you know he knows to be mild analgesics, especially paired with willow- on your mouth.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

____

So, what do you think? Would love to know what you think :)

As to why I deleted this one is mainly a matter of too many words for my word count on each chapter lol. It was supposed to be a short thing for the beginning of 22, but it turned into a 5k beast that I couldn’t include. I didn’t wanna leave it on my scraps document tho, so here ya go.

As before, this doesn’t mess with the schedule for the regular chapters, those will be up on time. Thank you so much for reading, sending you my love! <3

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #vikings #νοσταλγία masterlist

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honestsycrets · 4 years

Text

Big and Bad | Halloween | [ Wolf!Ubbe x Little Red!Reader ]

❛ pairing | wolf!ubbe x little red riding hood!reader

❛ type | almost one shot

❛ summary | oh, you knew you shouldn’t you knew you couldn’t-- but what if you did?

❛ tags | anthro!themes, sexual overtones but i couldn’t be bothered to fuck, slightly dark ubbe? not really it’s in his nature, little red riding hood redux, easily distracted reader, gluttonous hvitserk.

❛ sy’s notes | it’s slightly musical in quality given my class in fairytales. i wouldn’t think too much into trying to justify little red’s actions, it’s sort of a trope in fairytales.

You know the way to Granny’s house.

It was along the same old cobblestone trail with its same old straight edge path into the forest. No fun divots, no flirting with anyone to see. It was less than a day’s journey if you could ever manage to keep your distracted mind straight; that was.

But there were bouncy bright red flowers along the way, ones that you’d talk to, given the chance. Today, you gave into that chance, skipping with your skirt slapping down your legs until you kneeled before them in leathery laced sandals among a patch of green, green grass.

“There’s a wolf in the woods,” said the first red rose. The second bounced into tension; her roots straining the plush green around her spine. “There’s a big bad wolf in the woods!”

The first two always incited the group, “The big bad wolf! The big bad wolf!”

“Who is to say there is a big bad wolf?” you said. “Maybe he is a good big wolf.”

“No no, no no,” the roses chimed. “Ubbe is a big bad wolf, a big bad wolf prowling the woods!”

Under normal circumstances, the roses were chipper to the excess peels of fruit you’d litter around their spines at the base of the grass. As you gathered up the peels among fresh, hot bread and a pat of bundled butter, you knew that they were afraid of something. Of course, something for flowers could be nothing for humans.

“Oh! You’re overreacting. Ubbe is a good wolf,” you told them. Squealing and receding, the flowers laxed. ”Little flowers?” Quiet as a stone in the pit of the forest, you set the peels about their feet when you felt heavy breath beating against the blood red ribbon on your neck.

“Little red,” the big bad wolf finely said. “Off to Grandmother’s again?”

You hopped up onto your sandals and patted down your gown. You tugged your corset finely down. The wolf stretched out his limbs and claws and stood at length, twisted legs and furry tail, flapping in the dull wind. You nod, stupidly against your mother Aelswith’s words.

“Grandmother Judith is sick in the deep dark woods.”

He turns his face toward the straight road; one of pins, so they said. You never knew the wolf to be a big bad wolf, maybe he was a misunderstood wolf. Then again, with his long claws tipped in red, like the ruddy long braid that slapped down his back, maybe he could be a big bad wolf. “Which road will you take?”

Your tongue smoothed over plush red lips.

“The one of needles,” you answered; not taking the one most traveled, nor the one your mother told you. The one of needles; winding slow through the forest, too slow for any good girl to take. You’d amble through the forest at your own pace.

Who needed your mother anyway?

“Then I’ll take the one of pins,” he said, his wicked smile moving in a curl.

He did so love a hunt.

A big bad wolf living in the woods had to have a little wolf to win what’s meant to be won. Ubbe tracked the short-lived trail across from the opening of the woods; to the deep of the woods where his little wolf ate bones and guts.

“Hvitserk, get up,” Ubbe called to the little golden-brown wolf. Hvitserk, rolling on his back, stood up curiously without his bone in hand. His little brother was a hungry wolf; with a hunger that could never be filled at any time. A hungry wolf; in another sense, his little hine.

“There’s a cabin at the edge of the woods.”

“At the edge of the woods?” Hvitserk asked, “The widow’s cabin?”

“That’s it; with an old hag inside.”

“Old Queen Judith?” Hvitserk trilled, clawing at his small line of hair dripping down his stomach into his thatch of thick hair. Ubbe swats his hand, leaving bright red makes on the side.

“That’s the maid inside. You can gobble her up; if you’ll keep Bjorn busy outside.”

Fat as he was, old blood was bad blood and he knew his brother’s old mind. He’d bother with Hvitserk until the sunset outside. “You’re on the hunt,” Hvitserk noticed at once. It was stupid of Hvitserk, Ubbe thought. He’s always on the hunt for something new.

Princess-- is a taste he hasn’t had yet.

The sun has set behind the thicket of trees past your father’s castle. You don’t look back, not now and not often anyway, as busy as Father was. No hunting to be held on a day where love with Aelswith was to beheld. So you moved through the tall trees and curious concerned animals. Past warning flowers bouncing and brooding: turn back! This isn’t the right road!

But of course, it was the right road; it let you think with an open mind. Back to the wolf who stomped around the wicked forest where your grandmother’s cottage. Peeking through the brambles and tearing up your little hood, you at last found the little cobblestone cottage that night.

Rap, rap. Your knuckles clacked the oaken door.

“Hello? Grandmother? Let me in!”

“Come in,” rumbles, and rasps, and growls a not-so-grandmotherly voice behind the door. Your hands wound around the sheening golden knob and pulled open the busted lock. The door falls heavy behind your back, thick with a wolf’s heady musk inside.

“Grandmother?” you say; and know it’s a lie, there’s no grandmother waiting deep inside. So you set your picnic basket down and unlace your cut up little hood, shaking a thorn or two loose. You settle the bread by jars of slick and thick red blood. Raspberry jam does look so much like blood. “Grandmother are you there?”

“In the back room.”

Should you stay, should you go? You pluck up your gown, stepping around puddles of red, but not making a sound. You pounced over dark stains and touched the curtain of a door. Oh you do so know there’s a monster lying in wait but your belly titillates for just a little more. You draw the weighty red curtains out of your eye; encounter the fearful sight of the wolf sitting on the bed very much alive.

“Oh!” you cup your hand over your ruby red lips. “What big ears you have.”

The wry smile overtakes his face; as if he knows what you know. Your cheeks warm over in soft heat, drawing your finger over your chin; you move closer. Your sandals push up the floorboards in creak, creak, creak.

“The better to hear you with,” he musters. Still as a stone in the forest. His tail thwaps, the only marker of movement in a sodden room. You muster up more.

“What big eyes you have.”

He turns his head now, his darkened claws at his hip, drawing your attention to his naked chest. The ruddy brown hair trailing from his belly button to a pair of neatly constructed trousers; nothing is for naught on the big, bad wolf. Your eyes snap to, catching the big bad wolf in his act; his eyes are wrapped by a thin film of blue where his iris should be. Oh, he watches!

“Better to see you with.”

“What a big… teeth you have,” you moisten your lips and grip your skirt. A step closer and then another, and you’re before him. He’s the source of a heavy musk. One that isn’t as light as the sweet little wolf that you fed muffins to. It’s raw and wrong and right.

He’s silent then, but the wide smile parts to expose his angular canines. He moistens his lips. Oh that you couldn’t hear what haughty nothings he had to say, the better to taste you with.

Ask it, the wolf whispers. His fingers fall from his waist to fiddle with the fine lining of your corset. Your chest rises with dry air. Ubbe, the very big bad wolf indeed, rose his hand up to the expanse of your breast. His claws cut a clumsy and purposeful line across your chest. “O-oohh. Wha… what big hands you have.”

“Better to catch you with.”

And with that you jerk back, he jerks forward. His harsh hand drew you against the bloody wall, pressuring your throat, stripping the silent air from your soft throat. And god; the growing pressure of his claws compressing your neck-- it’s good. You struggle with his hand for air, drawing your nails on top of his long claws. The big bad wolf; the big bad wolf; you’ve been caught by the big bad wolf.

@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys @bluearchersstuff @affectionrabbitt @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage @tgrrose @cookies186 @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim @msmorganforever @destynelseclipsa @soleil-dor

#Ubbe x Reader #Ubbe Ragnarsson x Reader #Ubbe Lothbrok x Reader #Vikings imagines #vikings imagine #viking imagine #vikings x reader #vikings/reader

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madsdefencesquad · 3 years

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another domestic kevison drabble but this time madison wants to shave his face lol. ao3

“Really? Just like that?”

Madison arches a perfectly sculpted brow at her husband, who looks at her reflection from their bathroom mirror like she’s the most amusing thing he’s ever seen in his life (she is).

“Why not?” he says with a shrug, grabbing the glass of water on the side to rinse his mouth. “I think it’s sexy.”

“You think everything’s sexy.”

“Everything you do is sexy.”

Madison laughs. Kevin turns to her, his grin now replaced with something more suggestive, teasing. Madison can feel just how much fun he’s having with her right now, asking him for the one thing she’s always been curious to do but never had the courage nor the intimacy to pull off.

“You’re gonna have to bend down,” she says. “You’re too tall.”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Kevin says, and before she can even think of protesting, Kevin lifts her up so she’s sitting on the bathroom vanity, her bare feet brushing against the cabinets beneath her.

“God, Kev, a little warning, please,” she says without heat. Her eyes are bright, excited. She obviously isn’t too bothered by her husband’s ease of lifting her to sit on places she shouldn’t be sitting on.

Kevin leans forward, his arms winding around her to grab the razor and the shaving cream by the sink.

“I can’t believe that shaving a man’s face is in your bucket list,” he says, shaking his head. “I feel like the more you tell me what’s in it, the less I think it’s actually a bucket list.”

“Hey,” she says, pulling his face closer to hers. “You’ve got yours and I’ve got mine. No judging.”

“You know I’m not,” Kevin says with a laugh, leaning forward so he can rest his forehead on hers. Madison pushes him back a little so she can actually get to shaving his face, but Kevin’s wildly entertained at what’s to come and he watches her, beyond amused now as he hands her the tools, her eyes brightening in pure excitement.

The utter euphoria on Madison’s face has him wanting to abandon the activity altogether so he can carry her to their bed and have his way with her, but he knows his wife won’t forgive him for getting her hopes up about shaving his face only to not deliver in the end. And he is never good at disappointing her.

“Don’t ruin my face,” he says, brown eyes warm. “Think of the twins’ tuition fees.”

Madison arches backwards to tie her hair up into a messy bun, ensuring that no stray wisps of hair will interfere with her line of sight. Then she places her hands on his shoulders and guides him to stand just between her legs, seemingly nonchalant of the provocative position. Gently tugging his face closer to hers, she dispenses some of the shaving cream into her small hands and proceeds to draw a moustache on his face with it.

“Oh, dear god,” Kevin says as Madison throws her head back in laughter. Kevin softly pinches her sides, making her laugh even harder before pushing him back with a promise to behave.

Kevin can’t deny how beautiful she looks. Cheeks warm, eyes bright, all happy. All his.

Madison smooths over the artistic perfection of his foam facial hair before grabbing the razor and tracing along the sides of his jaw and his mouth. The bathroom’s silent, save for the sounds of her dipping the razor in a cup of water to rinse it.

Kevin’s hands, unbidden, slide around her waist and Madison glances up at him briefly before she turns his face the other direction, careful not to nick his skin as she unveils more and more smooth flesh.

“Okay, don’t kill me,” she says after finishing, “but I don’t know if I actually like you without facial hair.”

Kevin turns to her, mouth open in shock.

“You tell me this now? After you’ve already done half my face?”

Madison runs her hand across his smoothed-out cheek.

"I mean, I’ll still love you without it," she breathes, suddenly painfully aware of Kevin’s fingers skimming under the edge of her top, gently rubbing her skin. “But maybe like just a fraction less.”

“Wow, wow. I don’t know how to feel about that.”

“I said I’ll still love you,” she retorts, legs winding around him as much as possible to pull him closer, not that he hasn’t already taken a few steps towards her, his peppermint fresh breath now mingling with hers.

Madison cleans off the last of his stubble just as the hand that was slipping under her shirt is suddenly down by her butt and over her lace shorts that she wears to sleep as Kevin tugs her to him.

“All done,” she says, a bright smile on her face as she admires her handiwork. Kevin leans to the side to check his face out in the mirror.

“Not bad,” he says, impressed. He catches her smiling at him, and he leans forward to nuzzle her cheek, loving the feel of her smooth skin against his. Madison wounds her arms around his neck, fingers drumming over his spine.

She hears him sigh deeply as she works her fingers over the coiled knots in his shoulder. “Downside though is the kids may not recognise you.”

“What do you mean?” he mumbles, lips brushing her neck with every word.

“There was this TikTok video of this dad who shaved all his facial hair off, and I kid you not, Kev, his daughter cried so hard when she saw him thinking he was a random stranger or something.”

Kevin lifts his face off her neck and gapes at her.

“I don’t want our kids to be scared of me, babe!”

“I mean, you don’t know if they’ll actually not recognise you. It’s not like you had a beard or anything.”

Kevin is so lost at the thought of his children crying and running away from him that it’s practically reflex when he picks Madison up from the counter and carries her back to their bedroom.

“You think I can pull of a beard?” he asks as he tosses his laughing wife on the bed.

“Maybe even a moustache,” she agrees.

Kevin tosses his shirt somewhere in the room and crawls over till he’s hovering just above her.

“Done,” he says, leaning forward to nuzzle his smooth face over hers. “Then maybe in a few years you can shave that off too.”

“The kids will definitely not recognise you then.”

“Honey.”

#another one before I forget for another decade #kevison #kevison fanfic #kevin and madison #kevison fic #I’m all for bearded wise owl Kevin though #and I’m also for bearded unrecognised Kevin and his twins running away from him in fear #Madison’s bucket list thoughh lezbereal it totally has shaving a man’s face on it #tiu #this is us madison #kevin pearson #this is us

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jungkookiebus · 5 years

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Sunny Side Up pt. 1 | jjk

Genre: nonidol!au, strangers to sorta lovers, one night stand (or is it??) Pairing: tattooed!jungkook x reader Word Count: 1.9k Warnings: unprotected sex, dirty talk, sex in a dirty ass bathroom (please be hygienic and picky about where you have sex lol)

Tonight, you were alone, and you felt as if you could physically feel your blood pumping through your body. A sweaty body bumped into you, but you neither cared nor turned to see who it was. The club you were in was packed. The music pumping from the speakers had such a deep bass that every now and again it resounded deep in your chest, making breathing hard but the alcohol in your system kept you moving along to the beat. All your friends had bailed last minute but that wasn’t going to stop you from having fun. Sweat dripped down your back causing your thin top to cling to your skin. The lights were off of course as various colored lights throughout the room strobed in and out of your view, closing your eyes if you accidentally looked directly in them. You were so into the music that you almost didn’t feel the broad chest against your back and two arms snaking around your waist. Alcohol hazed your better judgement as you lazily looked down. From what you could see in the intermittent flashes of light was heavily inked skin, even down to his fingertips. The tip of a bird’s wing laced down the side of his hand to his thumb and one of the fingers had a small crown tattooed above a knuckle. You smiled to yourself as you turned in the stranger’s embrace. His hands skated around you as you turned, and he settled his hands on your hips as neither of you stopped your movements. Looking up, you were met face to face with the prettiest man you had ever seen. His hair was shaggy. The tips dusted along his cheeks and it curled so perfectly that you were instantly jealous. His eyes shown bright in the darkness surrounding you and a perfect smile met you as your eyes traveled downwards.

“Here alone?” he yelled over the music.

“Depends on who’s asking,” you said leaning in close and smiling.

You tried to look at him a little more closely, noticing the tattoos wrapped around his neck and down his chest where they disappeared beneath the white button down he had on.

His eyebrow quirked as you looked back at him.

“See something you like?”

“Am I supposed to be impressed?”

He was liking your little digs and the way you said each thing with just a small amount of sass. His grip on your hips tightened as he pulled you a little closer, moving the both of you along to the beat just right. You had to admit the way he looked and even smelled had intoxicated you. A musky smell mixed with something floral wafted into your nose amongst the smells of the club. He looked at you as if you were something to eat and you found yourself licking your lips and staring at the way his cheeks dimpled each time he smiled at you. His face glistened with sweat. Each song slid into the next with no intermission and you got lost in time as he moved his body against yours. You turned around in his grasp and ground your ass against him as you got braver. His cheek met yours and his hot breath fanned across your face. His hair caught your eyelashes as you closed your eyes, his lips travelling your skin until he made it to your ear.

“What are you trying to do, baby?” he asked loud enough for you to hear. You heard the smirk in his voice as he spoke.

What were you trying to do exactly? You had come here alone, why not have some fun? You’d never be able to do any of this if you were here with friends. You simply kept your eyes closed and smiled knowing he was looking at your face. Grinding your hips back against him harder you felt his gasp in your ear. His fingers dug into your hips as he pulled you back against him more, obviously enjoying the friction if his half hard erection in his jeans was enough to go on.

“So this is what you want?” His hips jerked against you minutely. The club was still packed with undulating bodies so neither of you were too obvious to the intoxicated bystanders.

You gulped and your saliva felt thick as your tongue seemed to swell in your mouth. Fumbling over your words you grasped his hands in yours at your hips and moved against him with more purpose this time. Who cares where this went? It was just one night anyway, and you were allowed to have fun. He didn’t need to know what you were saying to get what your body was telling him. He was suddenly leading you both away from the middle of the dance floor and to a darker hallway, pushing you in front of him the whole way but trying to maintain as much contact with you. Soon, he was reaching around you, pulling a door open and pushing you inside. In the dim lighting you could see you were in a single bathroom, but before any more details could register, he was spinning you around and his lips met yours in a rush. He backed you until you met the counter and his hands were in your hair within seconds. His tongue tasted of vodka and something fruity, but the way his mouth took over yours had a new heat blossoming in your stomach. He grasped your waist and easily lifted you up onto the counter. Slotting himself between your spread legs he pulled you close until your clothed sex under your skirt rubbed against the front of his jeans. You moaned as his lips were back on yours once more. He grabbed handfuls of your ass as he nipped along your jaw and drew the skin on your neck between his teeth.

“I don’t even know your name,” he breathed out between kisses.

“Doesn’t matter.” You were so lost in the moment that you just wanted him to shut up.

His hands slid up your thighs until they were under your skirt and pulling at your panties. Lifting your ass, you allowed him to pull them down and past your ankles. You started pulling at the buttons of his shirt and you were met with a very intricate tattoo of various colors painted across his skin. You noticed small koi fish that seemed so real you wanted to reach out and touch their scales, but he pulled you back to the present as a single finger slid inside of you.

“A-ah,” you breathed out as his lips attached to your skin right above your breast.

He moaned as he inserted a second finger and pumped until he had you keening at his touch. Your skin got warmer and warmer as he ran his thumb over your clit. One hand gripped desperately in his hair as the other kept you upright on the counter.

There was a pounding on the door as someone yelled something incoherent outside.

“It’s occupied!” he yelled, turning his head away for just a second before his lips were back on you again.

“Can I fuck you?” he asked a little more quietly this time.

His pupils were blown wide and his mouth fell open as he continued to torture you with his fingers. You forcefully moved his mouth to yours before untangling your fingers from his hair and started to fumble with his belt. His movements were rushed as he pulled his fingers out of you, leaving you feeling empty, and undid his pants enough to pull himself out. Holding his cock, he rubbed himself against your center and then over your clit repeatedly until you were practically whining into his mouth. Biting into your bottom lip, he pushed inside ever so slowly as if he wanted to feel you suck him in.

“God, what a perfect cunt.” He seemed spaced out as if he wasn’t talking to you. But none of that mattered because you had never had something so perfect inside of you in your entire life. His hands moved along your thighs until he was gripping your knees and pushing them upwards. He started a rhythm and the first few thrusts felt like heaven as he seemed to fill you up leaving nothing untouched. Your hand traveled up his chest feeling the toned muscle there before you pushed his shirt off one shoulder, trying to appreciate him more. Looking down, you noticed the tattoos stopped just at his hairline and you watched his cock slide in and out of you. He was absolutely soaked in your arousal.

He noticed you watching and whispered hot in your ear as he leaned forward.

“You like watching me fuck you? You’re such a fucking slut for letting me fuck you in this bathroom.”

His words had you clenching around him and he grunted as your cunt seemed to draw him in more and more. His arms wrapped around the small of your back to bring you closer to him, but no matter what he did it wasn’t enough. He seemed to want to crawl inside of you.

“This pussy is all mine. So perfect and tight for me.”

The possessiveness laced in his tone had your head falling back against the mirror as he fucked up into you with such force that you gripped the counter to steady your body. Never had a man made you feel this good and you hadn’t even learned his name. Your mind fogged and the bathroom was filled with the sounds of his skin against yours, the wet squelch of him sliding into you so easily, and the thrum of the club beyond the door. Your breath hitched at each thrust and your stomach tightened at the impending orgasm you were about to have. He felt you contract around him suddenly as your orgasm blindsided you, toes curling, and knees lifting upwards as your body curved into his. His lips grazed across your collarbones as you pushed your chest more into his face.

“Fuck yes, baby, come all over me.”

Your fingers dug into the hard edge of the counter and your breath was trapped in your chest as he fucked you through it.

“Fuck,” he said pulling out and pumping himself furiously until he was coming all over your swollen sex. “My pussy.” He was practically growling as hot strings of cum landed on your clit and dripped lazily downwards.

His hair stuck to the sweat on his forehead and temples and he seemed to glow. He was impossibly more beautiful than before as he settled into his post-orgasmic bliss, a dopey grin spreading across his face as his eyes closed. There were a few long seconds of heavy breathing as neither of you moved. He finally looked up and his eyes met yours as a breath taking smile crossed his face.

“My name is Jungkook by the way.”

“____,” you laughed. “Pleased to have met your cock.”

He laughed with you as he shook his head as if he couldn’t believe this had just happened.

“Let’s get cleaned up and go to that 24-hour diner so we can learn how each of us likes our eggs cooked.”

“Fertilized,” you said with every ounce of seriousness you could muster.

“Well,” he sighed going along with your joke, “I fucked up then.”

#bangtanarmynet #btswritersguild #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #reader insert #jungkook #bts au #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jeon jungkook #tattooed!jungkook #nonidol!au #strangers to lovers

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philosophicalparadox · 3 years

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For the ship ask! Mefiama~

4 (I've been dying thinking about the first time Amaimon formed and his first meeting with Mephisto, nevermind that Meph probly saw him popping into existence a million timelines lol)

29 (bc one of my favorite things in Unbecoming was how Amaimon acted the minute he sensed weakness in Mephisto ;D)

and 39 for a given definition of "love" XD

Gonna answer these a bit out of order because it hurts my brain not to.

WARNING: If you're looking for fluffy stuff you won't find it here. (You know me). Samael has serious trust issues, and quite literally has poison in his name, so is in my mind incredibly toxic on multiple fronts.

Also this post is really long.

First the Neutral one:

29. How do they handle emergencies/injuries/sicknesses?

Independently. Neither wants to be anywhere near each other if they are inhibited in some way. Both are predators inhabiting the bodies of prey, and while Samael sees weakness in others as a hindrance to himself, Amaimon is a scavenger with a big appetite and a not too fussy diet. He also is triggered by his instinct to fit into a place in the pecking order, which means if there's an empty space above him, he will be inclined to fill it.

Now on their own, Amaimon will lick his wounds in as solitary a confinement as possible, preferring to retreat underground, or barring that, to be as far away from contact as possible. It depends a lot on the circumstances, but he would typically rather be alone. However, if he is offered help he is surprisingly cooperative about it. His isolation is less a matter of pride and more a matter of safety, and while he will get very grumpy and defensive at first, he will gladly accept aid that proves to be no threat to him. After all, the longer he is injured for, the longer he is out of the running, and ironically , the more attention he brings to his absence, particularly by Samael.

Samael is a nitroglycerin laced cookie when it comes to injury or illness. He puts on a placid face and pretends nothing is out of the ordinary, but truth be told he's an anxious, boiling mess inside, and spends 99% of his time in a state of forced disassociation. He doesn't like to be seen as weak or vulnerable, which is why he battles the instincts that tell him to hide or retreat; like Amaimon, his absence would draw more attention to his wounds than his continued presence, only there are far more eyes on him, adding to the pressure. That said though, one can only fight those instincts for so long. Samael is the master of masking his pain and discomfort in theory, but the fact he does so only adds to it; eventually the stress must find a release, making him wildly unpredictable and prone to snapping at people with varying degrees of violence with seemingly no warning. He professes and complains to be doted on and given every comfort possible, but again, this is a ruse, meant to fool himself as well as others into believing he is capable of swift and smooth recovery, or that he isn't as badly hurt as he actually is. It's a placation of the masses of watchful stares and suspicious muttering. The truth is far more ugly however, and the more hurt he gets, the less able he is to hide his distress and discomfort. He accepts aide as a platitude, but is a very uncooperative patient whenever serious matters need to be taken into consideration. He's also mortally terrified of anesthesia, because it strips him entirely of his autonomy, and that is ultimately what makes him difficult to deal with as a patient as well - lack of control.

39.a Who initiated the relationship? b. Who kissed who first? c. When was the first realization of love made?

A. According to the fic/headcannon lore I've got jotted down somewhere, (explaining Amaimons initial incarnation) Samael technically was the one to initiate it, as he is the one who pulled Amaimon from the North Sea. However, it was Amaimon who began the unfortunate series of events surrounding his affection for Samael. The boy wanted his attention and praise, and began seeking it out in various ways, ultimately and accidentally developing his now typical courtship routine in the process. This routine has variability depending on who he is wooing, but is basically a combination of showing off + gifts (usually starts with food, if that fails then he finds what works) + excited body language / suggestive body language + touching, raking, nipping, grappling, suggestive attempts to mount, etc. Rinse and repeat as many times as necessary.

B. Amaimon did not understand what kissing was until Samael "explained" it to him, so there ya go.

C. This is where things get really dark in their relationship. Samael 1k years ago is not as kind or tolerant, and is terrified beyond all reason or sense of being close to people. It took a long time for Amaimon, who is also afraid of closeness, to open up his shell and find that he felt some intimate connection with Samael, who for all the world wanted to ignore that connection and will it away. When that did not work, and Amaimon began to foolishly take the initiative to really deepen their emotional bonds by way of persistently courting him and, in the way of any naive child, cling to him, Samael did not know nor care to even try and understand how to handle it. Amaimon loves him - that fact stared him in the face every day, no matter how much he willed it away, so he began to push. Verbally, emotionally, and physically, he pushed Amaimon, pushed his love, away. Violently, viciously at times, he pushed him away, until it drove him away. Amaimon eventually gave up and left for greener, less painful pastures, coming back together with Samael after many centuries apart.

Wiser Samael never did apologize, even to this day, but has come to terms with his nasty treatment of Amaimon. This is why he tolerates things from Amaimon that would surely see anyone else dead; (e.g punching him in the face) it's the only way he knows how to apologize without losing face. He still won't admit that he cares about Amaimon, because he tries very hard not to. But he can accept the fact that he acted the way he did out of fear, and that he did something very wrong to someone that didnt deserve it. Does that mean he wouldn't do it twice? Hell no. But he is aware it is his fault, even if he'll never admit that to anyone else.

4. First Impressions of each other?

Samael didnt know why he pulled the demon from the water, but he was glad he did. Something told him that this boy was his kin. He knew the name Amaimon, but didnt know his face until then. Being the space/time being he is, he was aware to a degree of the reputation which preceded that name, but wasn't sure who he would be dealing with at such an early stage in the young Amaimon's life. Therefore he had an optimistic but cautious approach, hoping he could make use of this lost baby demon.

Amaimon was impressed by Samael, who of course tried to make himself seem as impressive as possible. Amaimon was surprised that Samael knew his name, and how much he seemed to know about the situation he had left behind. But that's not all he knew. He knew something about everything, and had something from practically everywhere.

When they reconveined again after their separation, not much had changed.

And with that this dramatically long post draws a close. I will be posting snippets of the lore on here once it's complete.

#ao no exorcist #blue exorcist #mephisto pheles #fanfiction #amaimon #fan theory #ask response

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michiieewrites · 4 years

Text

Dabi - How You Remind Him (fic)

A/N: THIS CONTAINS SLIGHT/IMPLIED SMUT, SO ONCE AGAIN IF YOU’RE A MINOR: DO NOT READ. GO, SHOO. YOU’RE STILL A CHILD.

Other than that, happy reading! I wrote this while playing Nickelback’s ‘How You Remind Me’ on loop (hence the title, lol)

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

For someone who has a fire quirk, his bod is cold. The bedsheets lost their freshly washed scent, the walls haven’t seen a ray of sunshine in what seems like forever and the air had the smell of burned leather. The floor now only knew the feel of leather boots and longed to feel the patter of bare feet once again. The closet emptied of it’s neatly folded clothes, now laying strewn across the room.

When Dabi drags his body away from the bed, the hollow feeling remains with him. It follows him to the small bathroom adjacent to his room. Too small for two people, but for him it feels like he is drowning in its space. The steam of a shower cools down quickly, leaving him to feel nothing but icy cold shivers running down his body. To Dabi, it feels like this is a corpse’s bathroom.

Looking up at the mirror, bloodshot eyes stare back at him. Whether it was from a lack of sleep or the bottle of whiskey that became his bed partner the previous night, he doesn’t know. Nor does he care, honestly. A drunk mind was better than a haunted one, wasn’t it?

The ghostly feeling of your fingers dancing across his scars. Drawing patterns on them, as if to decorate them with symbols of your outpouring love for the burned man. The heat of the breath you inhaled when your lips parted from each other. Your hair slipping through his fingers right before he would close his eyes to sleep. Legs intertwined with his, hands clinging to his shirt, heartbeat in tune with his own rapidly beating heart, tongue seeking out his-

“AAAAAAAAHHHH!” The scream leaving his throat resonates inside the small bathroom. His fingers gripping the sink like he means to break it. His face, filled with primal rage. He hated it, hated when his body remembered the way you felt. It toys with his head.

“What’s wrong, honey?”

The air catches in his throat. ‘No no no no no no.’ That whisper… that voice. It’s not real. Not anymore.

“Are you feeling okay? Did your mission yesterday go well?”

‘Stop it, stop it.’

“I didn’t feel you coming to bed last night. Must’ve already been asleep when you came back.”

The giggle that follows your voice hurts him. It still sounds as clear and rich as it did the first time you spoke to him. Your voice right next to his ear, like you’re right beside him. He swears he can feel your arms encircling him from behind. See your Y/E/C eyes look back at him in the mirror, peering over his shoulder. They reminded him of rainy nights spend inside and under a thick blanket while drinking hot cinnamon tea.

And in a moment of weakness, he allows himself to feel this illusion.

Your lips gently kiss the bare, unmarred skin of his shoulder. All the way to scarred tissue of his flesh. Your nose softly rubbing against his neck as your press your body closer to him. Soaking up the warmth of his body. Your hands slide down his body and hold onto his hips. Your lips curl up to a smile as you look at him enjoying the feeling of your body.

Dabi smiles back at you and places his hands over your own. His thumb running over your knuckles. His head leaned over to rest against you.

“I’m sorry, doll. Promise I’ll spend tonight making it up to you,” he softly hums.

Your eyes close and your lips resume their way along his neck. Up to his ear, your teeth carefully tugging at his piercing. The feeling of your teeth barely scraping his scarred ear has him letting out a softly rumbled groan. His fingers laced together with yours. Your hands guiding them lower to his groin, nails barely touching the outline of his cock in his boxers. Your body presses tighter against him. He can feel your nipples harden and poke his back.

“Ah, how I’ve missed your touch, doll face.”

He slowly rolls his body against your hands. The small little intake of breath telling him he’s making you feel the same way you make him feel. Feeling you move your hips against him only fuels his desire for you. To feel more of you. To feel your flesh underneath his fingers as he loses himself in the wonderful, wet and dripping place between your legs.

He can practically hear your heart beat pick up. Going faster, just as your body starts to heat up. A blush of red running across your cheeks. Teeth running across his neck before biting down gently. Your tongue runs across the love bite you give him. His body shivers from the change of temperature when you blow on it. He closes his eyes, letting your body melt itself with him.

“Dabi, can I ask you something?” you ask with lust dripping of each letter. He hums back in acknowledgment.

“…. Do you believe in angels?”

The illusion shatters to pieces.

The shared warmth of your bodies turns deathly cold. Your body stopping its movements. Your fingers start digging into his skin, nails drawing blood.

Dabi freezes. He eyes shoot open. Only to look back into yours. Frightened and glossy from the growing tears. Your breathing turns shaky as your body starts trembling. He tries to turn around, but the grip you hold on him doesn’t let him move. Or maybe it’s because he becomes paralyzed at the look of unfiltered fear in your eyes.

Your voice comes out raspy and whispering: “Because I do… I’ve met one of them… Their wings were big and red. Their hairs was big and poofy, their eyes golden like the sun, but their soul… I-I… I think it was the angel of death and I think they’re coming for me.”

Your eyes look distant and your face contorts in pain and horror. Dabi frees his hands to try and hold you, but your own hands fly up to his chest. Clawing at his chest, over both his scarred and un-scarred skin. The pain it causes him is tremendous, but the feeling of helplessness is unbearable. Unable to help you, helpless against the fear you felt that day.

“Why, Touya, why does he take me away? Why why why? It’s starting to hurt. Touya, it hurts. It hurts so much!”

Hearing you cry his birthname breaks him. Hearing you cry out in pain burns him worse than his own blue flames ever could.

You’re holding him close. Clinging onto him like he’s your last hope of ending the pain. And it’s almost as if he can feel it too; the flurry of sharp feathers slicing across your arms. The concrete walls coming down on you as the feathers bring the room to its ruins. The pain in your lungs from not being able to breathe properly. The dizziness, the blood running down your body and seeping into the ground below you. The panic running through your veins as the person responsible comes into view.

Short in height, but mighty in posture. His wings spread out behind him. His eyes look unremorseful as he looks at the unexpected victim. A victim that doesn’t have been there. Who wouldn’t have been there if only Dabi hadn’t allowed them to love him.

“IT HURTS, TOUYA, IT HURTS SO BAD! I CAN’T MOVE MY LEGS, I CAN’T MOVE ANYTHING! PLEASE TOUYA, HELP ME. TOUYA, I’M SORRY. IT HURTS, IT’S CRUSHING ME. I’M SCARED, TOUYA PLEASE. HELP ME HELP ME HELP ME! PLEASE, I’M SORRY, PLEASE TOUYA-“

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD! GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT! YOU’RE NOT REAL!”

Your shrill, panicked voice gets drowned out by Dabi’s own screaming. He wrestles himself free from your phantom hands. Your screams still surrounding him, ringing in his mind. And he can’t control it anymore. The heat travels through his body, only to come out in an uncontrollable fire. A sea of blue flames engulfing your decaying frame. Leaving an empty spot in your place.

“YOU’RE NOT REAL, Y/N! YOU’RE NOT REAL! YOU-YOU’RE NOT… YOU’RE… real… you’re not… real… you’re not real anymore.”

As his flames die out and his rage goes down, the gut-wrenching pain returns.

He slumps down on the ground on his knees. Unable to produce tears, his dry sobbing becomes louder. Just like the memories of what happened. When the heroes attacked the hideout. When the building couldn’t handle the collision of multiple quirks. You had tried to get out. But one hero made that impossible. After he defeated his opponent, he immediately attacked the person coming out of the room behind him. He didn’t even stop to check if it was a villain or not.

Y/N had loved a villain. The two of you would break through each other’s walls together and find solace in each other’s love. Kept safely hidden in Dabi’s room. Or so he thought.

‘Cause when the No. 2 hero Hawks attacked, he had sealed your fate. You would fall due to the attack his feathers created. And before you could even get up, the walls came falling down. Ultimately ending your life while the hero flew away to deal with another villain. The winged hero who now had his own death sentence following him around. A punishment Dabi swore he would carry out one day. To be Hawks’ executioner. But by the time Dabi reached you, you were gone.

Your Y/E/C lost their light. The life inside you snuffed out like a flame in the wind.

He knows he heard it before reaching you; Dabi had heard you calling out his name. Not his pseudo name, no. The name his mother had given him at birth. In your last, dying moments you had called out to the love of your life. Begging him to help you. Your final words spoken in pain and fear, hoping he could save you.

As he sits here on the dirty floor, soot covering every inch of the small bathroom, he mourns you. Every day since then has been torture. Torn between taking revenge on those who damned your fate and wanting to join you in death. But he knows he could never join you.

‘Cause he too believed in angels. How could he not when he had held one in his arms every night? The memory of your death isn’t nearly as painful as the ones where you’re smiling at the puppy in the pet store. The ones where you’re crying from laughter. The ones where you’re laying beneath him, moaning and withering in the pleasure he gave you. The ones where you’re sleeping safely in his arms. Those are the ones that remind him of you. That is how you remind him of the sound of your heart beat.

The only sound keeping him company now are the echoes of his own cries.

Tagged: @reinawritesbnha @hipster-merchant-of-death @thots4daze

@aizawascumslut

#michiiee writes #bnha #bnha fic #dabi my hero academia #dabi boku no hero academia #bnha dabi #touya todoroki #dabi is touya #dabi smut #dabi fic #bnha angst #dabi angst

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eremiss · 3 years

Note

WIP Asks: "Reminisce" next

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you like.

I’m not sure when this one is set yet, definitely post-Dragonsong War and post-Foibles (FFXIVWrite2020.) Maybe post-4.0, depending. This is another Thancred PoV one, where they both open up a little bit about their pasts, him about Sharlayan and Gwen about how she made a living and what made her decide to learn botany and pick up a lance.

I’m really liking this one so far, but I’ve been torn about how the conversation about Gwen’s past should go. I’m not sure if I would rather it be dialogue, or a more vague description of what she’s talking about and his reactions to it. I’m sorta-kinda writing both at once and waiting for one of them to start coming easier and/or take off lol

(this is also where that First Lines snippet came from!)

Part of the WIP and a bit more summary below the cut.

Gwen and Thancred are fairly solidly together by this point, though they’re both still avoiding labels or addressing ‘them’ like the plague lest they upset this good thing they have going on. They’re both dinguses.

Despite that, he still doesn’t know much about her, as Gwen isn’t prone to offer much about herself unless it’s something particularly prudent or useful (”You need to shoot something? Don’t give me a bow, I’m not good with them.”) and even when asked she’s more likely to sort of avoid the question or give half-answers as she’s embarrassed about her past, even with Thancred. She’s very self-conscious about growing up alone and with nothing, struggling to get by and picking up and honing skills out of pure desperation. She’s also just a private person in general and not used to talking about herself, so even when she’s asked 100% judgement-free she’s just not sure what to say.

It can grow to be a bit frustrating, to say the least lol

Despite what the Adders’ reports and the increase in Ixali activity seemed to suggest, two days of reconnaissance in the Shroud has yielded little and less. No news is good news in the case of Primals, however, even if it makes the investigation feel a bit tedious.

The Ixali haven’t created any new routes to try and smuggle crystals under the Wailer’s and Adders’ noses, and their old paths have been abandoned since the last time Gwen laid Garuda low. The items stolen in roadside attacks were mostly sundries and foodstuffs bound for Coerthas which, while troubling, isn’t cause for the Scions’ concern.

None of the travelers and merchants they’ve spoken with over the course of their investigation have been happy about being accosted in the middle of the woods, no matter how politely Gwen and the Adder recruits try to go about it.

Thancred watches the latest victim of circumstance storm off down the road from his vantage point high in the trees. He lifts a hand to his linkpearl and remarks, “Seems he took offense.”

Gwen shakes her head, casting her gaze around the trees in search of him. “Just a bit. See anyone else?”

Thancred scans the road. “The road is clear, apart from your new acquaintance.”

She passes that on to the Adders, and they have a small discussion he can only assume pertains to what they intend to do next. Given the way things have been going, this investigation will surely be coming to an end soon.

Eventually the recruits salute and depart back up the way the traveler had come. Gwen doesn’t follow.

Thancred waits until they’re yalms away before speaking into the linkpearl. “What’s the word?”

“They’re going to the rendezvous with the other team, then contact the Adders’ Nest.” She tries to spot him in the trees again. And misses him, again.

“And we get to hold position and await further word?” he drawls.

She nods. Then she remembers they’re speaking over linkpearl, “Yes.”

He sighs at the thought of more bells in the muggy forest. “Wonderful.”

Rather than continue searching the treetops for him, Gwen turns and makes for the bushes on the far side of the road. He watches with mild interest as she wanders through the untamed foliage, ducking out of sight every now and then and gradually wandering further from the road until he’s lost sight of her.

Foraging, if he had to guess. She’s never been a fan of sitting still, and it’s the perfect way to pass the time in a forest. He’s not sure how much she’ll find close to the road, as surely other travelers have already helped themselves to everything convenient.

Gwen has never hidden her skills as a botanist, per say, but she’s a great deal more open about them than she used to be, particularly when it comes to gathering herbs for her own use. Fetching tea leaves for a friend or herbs for a leve is all well and good, but collecting esoteric botanicals for herself is, apparently, a different matter. Perhaps a few too many people have commented about her snacking on dandelions and roots, or balked at the suggestion that they could do the same.

Thancred winces and shifts on the branch, knowing he ought to count himself amongst the former. He puts that little blunder out of his mind, reminding himself he’d meant no ill will and had only been teasing. Her knowledge of Eorzea’s vegetation is nothing to be embarrassed about, nor is utilizing it as she sees fit, and they’re both well aware of that. She knows more than he does, despite the fact she hadn’t had access to the same extensive education and training.

He idly surveys the road, musing about how she’s rather reluctant to discuss how she learned botany, evasive when asked and quick to direct the conversation elsewhere. He can’t fault her for that, though. Many people consider childhoods spent mired in hardship to be a sore subject, and the two of them are no exceptions. Necessity, desperation and survival are wonderful motivators, but they don’t make for good small talk.

Which is likely also why comments about nibbling on weeds or foraging for odd ingredients are unwelcome; those ‘weeds’ may well have kept her alive. And isn’t that a hell of a thing to admit to? It’s not unlike the fact he’s not embarrassed by his ability to pick locks in seconds, but he recoils from the thought of admitting he’d picked up the skill breaking into homes and shops to steal food.

Eventually her lightly-staticy voice rings in his ear again. “Hungry?”

He’s mostly bored, and tired of the tree bark making an impression in his rear. “I take it you are, if you went looking for a snack.”

“Just passing time, mostly.” A pause. Communicating when he can’t read her expression or fidgeting is always interesting, and occasionally vexing. “But we’ve been out here a while, so…”

Thancred gets to his feet and peers up and down the road again, straining his eye and searching for the shapes of travelers through the sparse trees. It’s all clear.

“I don’t suppose you managed to find a wild bakery growing out there?” he asks, stretching his arms and legs in preparation for his descent.

She laughs as the red of her coat comes into view through the trees. “I’m afraid not.”

He scoffs. “All that time studying botany and you can’t track down fresh bread in the wilderness?”

“Not even a single loaf,” she confesses, her remorseful tone colored with mirth.

“Shameful, honestly. Why did I even bring you along?” He starts climbing back down to the ground, her laugh bubbling warmly in his ear.

Gwen’s excursion into the woods turned up a handful of roots, weeds and flowers that the average traveler wouldn’t look twice at. Between his survival training and his time in Dravania, particularly before he’d fashioned those obsidian knives, Thancred isn’t so easily perturbed.

They stroll along the road and snack, chatting and keeping an eye out for travelers or signs of movement in the trees. She walks on his left, sparing him the inconvenience of his blindspot. He has to turn his head to see her, though, but doesn’t mention it.

She shows him how to shave the hard skin off the roots, and then stares confusedly when he does it more masterfully than she had. He makes a bit of a show of it, carelessly flipping his hunting knife around in his fingers in a way that always makes her tense and reveling in her silent disapproval.

Gwen asks about Sharlayan and what the time he spent there was like, intent as ever to know more about him and draw out the things he normally keeps hidden.

He chews, thinks, and decides to oblige her. Mayhap she’ll be convinced to return the favor.

He tells her about the city, the people, and the Studium to start. Then they spend a handful of yalms musing about the growing pains that came with maturing from a Lominsan wharf rat into a Sharlayan scholar. She has some questions, he has some answers --some more open and direct than others. Secrecy and facades are his habit, despite how easy she is to speak to and how well she can coax him out of his shell.

With the scene set, he weaves her a tale about some of his more harrowing lessons with Sharlayan’s masters of stealth and subtlety, sprinkling in a bit of the mischief he’d gotten up to here and there. She makes a good audience, listening attentively and reacting at the right parts.

He finishes his tale and throws in a flick of his wrist for a bit of flourish, followed by a grandiose half-bow that earns him a laugh and a brief applause.

They haven’t run into another traveler yet, or seen any suspicious movement in the woods. They turn around and begin making their way back to where they’d parted with the Adders recruits.

“Your turn,” Thancred prompts, lacing his fingers together behind his head.

Gwen cocks her head.

“A story for a story,” he says. “Tell me about yourself.”

(((Tangent: This reminded me I also want to write a fic about Gwen studying her ass off post-ARR because and struggling with self-consciousness when she realizes how limited her knowledge is and how little she knows about the fine details and advanced aspects of Aetherology and a dozen other things the Archons all discuss and debate with ease. She doesn’t feel stupid per say, it’s more she’s intimidated and embarrassed at how limited her knowledge is in comparison to them, as well as feeling a bit foolish for being proud of her novice conjury and thaumaturgy, and even her red magic. (Which is ridiculous, obvs.) It’s a bit like being a novice at something and then being humbled, even unintentionally, by an expert. Also a little bit of “being a smart person in a room of smarter people,” kind of feeling. She’s not dumb, but she feels way less smart than she is/thought she was when she’s around the Archons (too much so, even.) There’s also no small amount of envy about them growing up at studying in Sharlayan, and wishing she’d ever had, or would have, the chance to go to school and get/have that same breadth of knowledge. She’s not a very prideful person, but she is/was proud of learning all she did despite her situation, and being reminded of how non-comprehensive her knowledge is kinda stings. She did great, considering her circumstances... and that qualifier has never ceased to be annoying. Some of her self-consciousness also stems from her realizing a great deal of her mastery of red- and black-magic skills has to do with the Echo letting her absorb stuff super quickly, and she almost feels like that was cheating and wonders if she really actually knows it all as well as she thinks, or if the Echo is just...doing it for her, kinda.)))

#Pre-5.0 #Thancred Waters #WoL #WIPs #my writing #Prompts #Answered #Thanks :D #I really want to finish this one uuuuggghhhh #lynmars79

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aerynwrites · 5 years

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Liberation - II

Chapter 2: The Bounty

Author’s Note: I hate that this chapter is like the longest one I’ve written and I don’t even know if it’s that good lol. Well what’s done is done I suppose, so I hope you all enjoy it at least! let me know what you think! I think I am going to have to better plan on how to separate and split up the episodes so my chapters aren’t so long...okay enough from me. Enjoy this new chapter, feedback is always appreciated! (Let me know if you would like to be tagged or if I forgot to tag you, i may have missed some people!)

Word Count: 5.4k (I AM SO SORRY!)

Warnings: Cursing, injuries, violence, attempted murder of a child?

Chapters: Prologue, One, Two (here), Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight

///

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

You comment earns you an elbow to the side from the Mandalorian as you both take in the storm troopers around you. Your hand had instinctively gone to your blaster, brief memories flashing through your mind before Mando’s action drew you back to reality. You followed him as you both slowly stepped into the room, brushing past a few troopers.

“Greef Karga told me you were coming.”

An older man, who you assumed to be the client, spoke up from behind a desk.

Mando took a few more steps towards the client before stopping, you at his side, “What else did he say?” he asked.

“He said you are the best in the parsec,” the man states.

Before either you or Mando could say anything, a door to the left of the room hissed open. Mando immediately drew his rifle from his back pointing it at the man who entered from the door. You followed his actions aiming your blaster at a nearby trooper.

“No!” the new man exclaims.

The troopers around you immediately draw their weapons on you, “Freeze, drop your weapons!” one of them shouts.

“You first,” you sneer.

“No, no, no,” the man who entered spoke, “Pardon, uh-sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm,” he stutters.

The client rises from his chair and walks over to the man, hand raised submissively.

“This is Dr. Pershing.” Neither you nor Mando lower your blasters, “Please excuse his lack of decorum. His enthusiasm outweighs his discretion.” The client is in front of you now, “Please lower your blasters.”

“Have them lower their first,” Mando insists.

A storm trooper to your right speaks up, “We have you six to two.”

“I like those odds,” Mando states confidently.

You cast him a sideways glance, concern clear on your features, “You do?” you whisper.

Mando doesn’t say anything to you and you see the client step closer to Mando, your finger twitches on the trigger.

“He also said you were expensive…very expensive.” He takes a step back, “please sit.” He finally motions for the troopers to lower their weapon, and Mando nods for you to do the same.

You cautiously holster your blaster and stand beside Mando as he takes a seat, watching as the client follows suit, sliding a small item across the desk towards you both. You watch curiously as the man unwraps the red cloth slowly, revealing a rectangular piece of metal.

“Beskar?” Mando asks.

“Go ahead. It’s real.” The man assures.

You furrow your eyebrows together, beskar was extremely rare, and very expensive. You feel your stomach drop slightly at what that might mean for you both, and you watch as Mando picks up the piece of metal and rubs his finger over it lightly, as if testing the metal.

“That is only a down payment,” the client reveals, “I have a camtono of Beskar waiting for you upon delivery of the asset.”

The feeling in your stomach intensifies at his words. The storm troopers, this client who was clearly empire, this absurdly expensive payout for this…asset. It was not sitting well with you. You had your fair share of dealing with the empire and you had no intentions of working for them. Not if you could avoid it anyway.

“But it has to be alive” Dr. Pershing spoke up, breaking you from your thoughts.

The client looks from Pershing to the both of you, “Yes. Alive.” He leans forward on the desk, “Although I acknowledge that bounty hunting is a complicated profession. This being the case, proof of termination is also acceptable for a lower fee.”

“That is not what we agreed upon,” Pershing argued.

“I’m simply being pragmatic,” the man explained.

You looked to the doctor, taking note of the emotion that you deemed as worry evident on his face. That seemed odd for a client to be concerned for its bounty.

You finally speak up, ready to get this bounty and leave, “Is there a puck?”

The client looks to you as if just noticing you’re there as well, “I’m afraid discretion dictates a less traditional agreement. We can only offer you a tracking fob.” The man motions to the doctor who hands Mando said tracking fob.

“What’s the chain code,” Mando takes the fob.

“We can only offer the last four digits.”

Mando pauses looking up at the client, “Their age. That’s all you can give us?” Disbelief laces his voice.

“Yes. They are fifty years old.” The client informs, “We can also give you last reported positional data. Between that and the fob, a man of your skill should make short work of this.”

“I’m here too ya know,” you mutter under your breath.

If Mando hears your comment, he doesn’t acknowledge it. He just stands from his seat and starts towards the door, and you follow without hesitation.

“The beskar belongs back in the hands of a Mandalorian,” the man’s voice speaks once more stopping you both in your tracks, “it is good to restore the natural order of things, after a period of such disarray. Don’t you agree?”

Neither you nor Mando respond as you continue on your path out of the building. As soon as you reach fresh air you take in a deep shuddering breath, something the Mandalorian doesn’t miss.

“You have a problem?” he asks.

you snap your head in his direction, “Do you not have a problem?” you ask incredulously, “That whole deal was shady, and if you failed to notice those were actual storm troopers, alive and well and ready to blow our brains out!” you run a hand through you hair before placing both hands over your face, “I can’t do this. I can’t do this.” You state, pulling your hands from you face you look to Mando, a panicked expression donning your features.

“Thank you for all your help,” you say breathlessly to the masked hunter, “But you are going to have to do this on your own, this-“ you pause, pushing past a lump in your throat, “This is more than I bargained for. I’m sorry.”

You go to walk past the Mandalorian and try to find transport off planet, but a hand firmly grips your arm stopping you from going any further.

“You want to be a bounty hunter, right?” Mando’s modulated voice fills your ears.

You turn to look at him and nod curtly, jaw set.

He releases your arm, “Well this is what it takes. I hate the empire as much as you do, but this is the job. You get the information, you find the asset, you get paid and you don’t ask questions.”

You feel your breathing start to calm slightly as he speaks. He was right. You just have to do what you’re paid to do and move on. No emotion involved. He did say the asset was fifty years old, and if they were willing to pay that much for this one person, then they must have done something pretty bad right? At least that’s what you told your self as you followed Mando down the streets of Nevarro.

“Where are we going?” you ask, “The ship is that way”

Mando stops outside of another building at the end of a small market and turns to you, “I have something to take care of before we leave. Stay here.” He instructs.

You throw your hands up in the air, “What do you mean stay here? Why can’t I just come with you?” you ask, frustrated why he kept being so secretive about everything.

Mando tosses you a small bag of credits, “Just go…entertain yourself. I won’t be long.” And with that he disappears behind a curtain and into the building.

You let out a huff before looking down to the bag of credits in your hands then to the battered and broken pieces of metal you called armor. You shrugged before turning back into the market to entertain yourself.

* * *

You are leaning against the wall of the building when Mando emerges, and you immediately take note of his new pauldron. You give him a small smile and push off the wall as he notices you.

“Looking snazzy with that new piece of beskar,” you comment, tapping the metal lightly, “Wish I could have me one of those.”

At this comment he looks over you quickly, “You have some new equipment yourself. Nice cloak,” he says a teasing hint in his voice.

You shrug and adjust the cloak around your neck sheepishly, “Yeah well my old stuff was a sore sight, and you looked bad ass in your cloak so I figured…” you trailed off, before gesturing to your unarmored right arm, desperate to change the subject, “wasn’t able to complete the set though,” you roll your eyes, “this vendor was a total scam, and I wanted to save some of these just in case.” You toss the left-over credits back to Mando who catches them swiftly.

“You’ll get the last piece eventually,” his voice is dismissive, “Come on.”

You both once again fall into, what seems to be, a regular silence as you both walk back to the ship and get settled on for the trip. You watch as he inputs directions to the planet and you quickly take a seat as he puts the ship in hyper drive and on the path to the asset. Neither of you speak for a while, busying yourselves with other tasks. Him flying the ship and you cleaning and doing various maintenance on your blasters.

“You know your way around guns pretty well for being new to this,” He speaks up finally.

You startle slightly at his voice before you shrug his comment off and click another piece of the gun into place, “I just know my way around mechanics is all,” you offer lamely, not really wanting to talk about.

But he doesn’t drop the subject, “most mechanics can’t tell a blaster from wrench if you set it in front of them,” his voice is full of suspicion.

You flounder at his observation and set your blaster on your lap letting out an exasperated huff, “I just know my way around them okay, I used to deal with them a lot before this and also mechanical stuff,” you explain vaguely, you really didn’t want to talk about your past, “just drop it okay?”

You assumed the finality in your tone is what made the Mandalorian nod and drop the subject, but in reality, it was the desperate plea hidden behind your words that made Mando drop it. He knew what it was like to want to forget, he knew better than anyone he supposed. So, he didn’t say anything else as you both returned to your tasks at hand. You finally holstered your blasters just as the ship dropped from hyperspace, and you approached a red and brown colored planet.

Yay, desert, you thought scornfully.

You stood from your seat as Mando begins to land the ship and grip the back of his chair as you take in the bland surroundings, “Why does it feel like all these bounty’s hide in the most hot, boring, dry places?” you comment, “Why can’t the ever hide on a forest planet, or a planet with super cool cities?”

The man in front of you doesn’t comment but you could have sworn you heard him chuckle under his helmet. But before you could think too much about the unusual reaction he is standing from his seat and grabbing his rifle. You both walk down the ramp and exit the ship, and you watch as he holds the small tracking fob out in front of him. The device is beeping low and steady as he moves It from side to side. He pockets the fob and you watch from a few paces behind him as brings his rifle up to his shoulder and looks through it, surveying the land. You landed on a small plateau, which gave you both a good view of the land in front of you, but it did create a small blind spot. Just as Mando moved his rifle sight back to the left to look once more you see a large grey beast stumble up over the blind hill.

“Watch out!” you call as you draw your blasters.

But your warning was too late, you watched as Mando dropped the rifle and went to blast the beast with his flames, but the large animal grabbed his arm in his mouth and tossed him about.

You quickly sprang into action and fired a warning shot above the animal’s head. The animal released Mando and you cheered silently but were cut short when the animal turned its attention to you. You raised your blaster to fire at the animal, but it was on you before you could aim properly. It gripped your arm in it’s jaws just as it did Mando’s. You cried out in surprise and pain as the animal held you in its grip. You used your free hand to punch the animal in the side of the face wildly as it continued to toss you around.

“A little help would be nice!” you called out.

You managed to catch a glimpse of Mando finally gaining his feet and grabbing his rifle, he lifted it to aim, but an electrical sound filled your ears instead and the beast holding you fell to the ground, your arm still in it’s mouth. You looked to the side as you saw Mando quickly come to your side as you struggled to get away from the creature.

He crouched over you attempting to help but a low growl drew your attention to another approaching beast.

“Mando, behind you!”

He turns swiftly and reaches for the blaster at his side, but the second beast falls still as a blast of electricity hits it and it slides across the ground coming to a stop at your feet. You look from Mando to the two fallen beasts, and then finally to the small Ugnaught riding up on a third beast. You sit up as he approaches and finally mange to release your arm from the fallen animal’s mouth as Mando approaches the stranger.

“Thank you,” he speaks, and he looks back to you, noticing you cradle your arm carefully.

You wince as you stand up, “Yeah thanks for that,” you moved to stand next to Mando, still cradling your right arm. Of course, the beast managed to get a hold of the one arm that was missing armor.

“You are bounty hunters.” The Ugnaught observes.

The Mandalorian nods breathing still labored, “Yes.”

“I will help you both.”

You look to Mando, a surprised look on your face as he turns to face you as well, before turning back to the man.

“I have spoken,” hes says finally.

* * *

Several hours later you and Mando are sat in your savior’s house after just hearing that you weren’t the only ones with the task of finding this asset. The Ugnaught offered to show you both to the encampment in exchange for keeping the two, what he calls blurrg, that you helped him capture. You shook your head as you remembered the conversation, turning your attention back to your wounded arm. While it should have been a simple task, trying to tend to your wound properly was proving difficult with your non dominant hand. You huffed in frustration as you dropped the roll of bandages once more.

“motherfu- “

“you can put a blaster together blindfolded but you can’t wrap a simple wound?” a familiar voice chides.

You roll your eyes and pick up the bandages not turning to face the Mandalorian behind you, “I can take care of myself just fine thank you, they just…slipped is all.”

Even you cringed at your lame excuse but attempted to finally cover the bloody marks on your arm once more. You had lasted this long without anyones help, and you certainly didn’t need his. At least that’s what you told yourself. The truth was that you we’re scared of asking for help, it felt foreign to rely on others when you had no one but yourself for most of your life. So, you remained stubborn, and made another feeble attempt to successfully wrap the bandages around your arm, but they fell from your hand once again. You bent to pick them up, frustration rising in you, but Mando had beat you to it. You opened your mouth to protest but Mando just grabbed your right hand firmly and pulled you, so you were facing him. Neither of you said anything as he swiftly wrapped the bandages around your arm and secured the end of it neatly, before tucking the leftovers back in your bag and standing to leave.

“Thank you,” you called after him gently.

He paused at the door to the room the Ugnaught lent to you, “Get some sleep, tomorrow we head for the encampment.”

Then he was gone.

The some what tender moment you shared leaving with him. you pursed your lips as you walked over to the small bed. The Mandalorian’s actions continued to baffle you. One moment he was insulting and snide, the next he was some what caring and kind. It was like having constant whiplash around him. You sighed as you laid down and pulled the covers over you deciding to take his advice and try to get some sleep, not looking forward to learning to ride the Blurrg in the morning. But as you rolled to your side and closed your eyes, sleep seemed to find you faster than you expected, and you drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

You watched as Mando was once again thrown to the ground by the Blurrg, landing with a loud grunt.

“Perhaps if you removed your helmet,” the Ugnaught suggested.

“Perhaps he remembers Mando tried to roast him,” you reminded, unable to stifle the giggle that slipped out from watching the great warrior be bested by an animal.

“This is a female. All the males are eaten during mating.” The Ugnaught corrects.

You scrunch your nose up at the information, “Ew.”

You watch as Mando jumps and straddles the beast and your eyes widen as he stays on for a moment, but he is thrown off once more with a frustrated grunt. You sigh, as he stands and approaches you and the Ugnaught.

“We don’t have time for this,” he said impatiently, “do you have a land speeder or speeder bikes we could hire?”

Before the Ugnaught could respond you step into the pen with Mando and the Blurrg, “Will you quit your complaining,” you groan out as you move over to the large beast.

“You think you can do better?” Mando challenges.

You shrug your shoulders, “Couldn’t do any worse than you,” you toss over your shoulder.

You hear him let out an exasperated sigh before he exits the pen and joins the Blurrg trainer, “Go ahead then.”

You give them both a slight nod before turning back to the blurrg, who was standing restlessly in front of you. She takes a menacing step forward, but you put your hand up in a submissive manner, showing the creature you mean no harm. However, it doesn’t seem to understand and gets more restless.

“Easy, girl, easy,” you sooth, as you take a small step forward, “It’s okay.”

The creature calms slightly at your low town and you take this chance to attempt to rest a hand on its snout, but the animal lets out a growl. You take a small step back.

“Calm down, it’s okay,” you mutter, “Settle.”

The animal responds calmly once more, and this time produces little fuss when you gently rest your hand on her snout. You let out an airy laugh before petting her slowly and gently swinging yourself up onto her back. The creature protests slightly to your presence but you calm her quickly and before you know it you are trotting around the pen. You let out a loud laugh and look over to the two men standing outside the pen. The Ugnaught had a surprised yet proud look on his face, and you weren’t able to tell what mando was thinking but he was following your form as you moved around the pen, hands on his hips, seemingly impressed.

You raised one hand in the air, “Look, I did it!” you called triumphantly, “I did it!”

Mando watched as you pulled the blurrg to a stop in front of them and slid off the beast, before turning to face them, an excited glint in your eye.

“I can’t believe that worked!” you admitted, as you looked to the Mandalorian giving him a playful nudge, “I can’t believe I beat the oh so famous Mandalorian at something either,” you jested.

He rolled his eyes under his helmet and brushed you off, “Well don’t get used to it,” he bites, “I’m a bounty hunter not an animal trainer.”

Your smile falls at his words, the playful glint no longer present and He feels a small pang of guilt at your shift in demeanor. He didn’t mean to sound so harsh; he’s just not used to this…companionship thing. You shrug your shoulders and speak before he can apologize

“I know,” your voice is low, any hint of teasing gone, “but she’s tamed right?” your attention was now on the Ugnaught, “so we can go?”

The Ugnaught looks between you and the Mandalorian, not oblivious to the scene that just unfolded and nods his head, “You are ready.”

You give him a small smile and move to go gather your things, leaving Mando alone with the shorter man.

“She looks up to you,” the man says, catching the Mandalorian off guard.

“What?”

“I have spoken,” is all he offers in explanation, before walking off to prepare the Blurrgs.

The Mandalorian stares after the small man before looking in the direction you headed off in, the ugnaughts words ringing in his head.

* * *

You and Mando crawl carefully to the edge of the cliff overlooking the encampment, having parted ways with the Ugnaught, who expressed his desire to rid his valley of the people in said encampment. Mando pulled out a small device and used it to get a closer look at the base. He took a few moments to asses the layout before holding it out to you. you took it from him with a questioning look.

“Tell me what you see.”

“Why? you already looked.” you were confused by the point of this.

you could almost feel the impatience rolling off of him, “You wanted to learn right? This is part of it. You have to asses your surrounding before you head in or your chance of success diminishes severely. so take the monocular and tell me what you see.”

“Jeez, okay,” you snatch the small monocular from his hand, “Didn’t have to me so snarky about it.” you muttered.

You look through the eye piece and take note of several armed guards, towards the front of the base and then some closer to a set of rusted bay doors.

“I see several armed guards,” you start and then pan back to the front of the base spotting a heavily armed droid approaching the base, “huh, and a…droid?” you note, hackles raising.

“A what?” Mando’s surprised voice fills your ears as he rips the eye piece from your grasp.

“Hey-!”

Mando quickly locates the droid through the eye piece, “It’s a bounty droid.”

You don’t respond as you both hear the distant voice of the droid before he starts shooting and kills several guards.

You and Mando both let out sighs and move to stand, “Droids,” you say in unison.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, “Not a fan of droids either?” you quip.

He shakes his head and motions you to follow as you descend the hill to the base, “Not particularly.”

You and Mando quickly reach the bottom of the steep cliff and approach the base as the droid repeats its earlier speech.

“Subparagraph 16 of the Bondsman Guild protocol waiver compels you to immediately produce said asset.” The droids voice echoes through the streets of the base as you and Mando round the corner.

“IG unit! Stand down!” Mando commands, raising his blaster.

Before you or the Mandalorian could react, the Droid had turned and fired his blaster at Mando, knocking him off his feet.

“Holy shit!” you crouch down to help him as he crashed into a set of empty barrels, “Are you okay?” you ask.

Mando just groans as he sits up and pulls the tracking fob from his pocket holding it up towards the droid, “We’re with the Guild!”

The droid lowers his weapon, “You are Guild members? I thought I was the only one on assignment.”

You grasped Mando’s hand as you helped him to his feet, “That makes three of us,” you say over your shoulder as you and Mando take cover behind a nearby pillar.

“So much for the element of surprise,” Mando snaps to the droid.

“Sadly, I must ask for your fob,” the droid states, “I have already issued the writ of seizure, the bounty is mine.”

You peak from behind the pillar at the droid, “Unless I’m mistaken you are, as of yet, empty handed.” You sneer.

“This is true.”

Mando leans from behind the pillar examining your surrounds before looking back to the droid, “I have a suggestion.”

“Proceed.”

“We split the reward,” Mando offers.

Your eyes widen, “Mando what the hell?” you protest, but before you can lay into him further the droid speaks.

“This is acceptable.”

“Great,” Mando says, false enthusiasm oozing from his mouth, “Now let’s regroup out of harm’s way and form a plan.” He motions to the droid to come over to you both.

“I will of course obtain the reputation merits associated with the mission,” it states walking over to meet you both.

“Can we talk about this later!” you exclaim irritation clear in your voice, “I’d like to not get blasted away if I can avoid it.”

The droid looks from you to Mando, “I require an answer if I am to proceed – “blaster fire interrupts the droid, “Oh no. Alert. Alert.”

You, Mando and the droid wordlessly return fire to the many occupants of the base flowing from what seemed to be every door and window. you manage to down several of them before Mando runs past you towards more cover.

“Let’s go!” he calls to you.

You follow him and the droid as you duck behind various cover and return fire to your attackers. As Mando approaches a side door you see it open behind him and a Nikto steps out of it. You take a step towards Mando and the person behind him and rear your arm back.

“Mando duck!”

He does so instinctively, and you bring your fist down on the side of the Nikto’s head, knocking him out cold. Mando nods to you in thanks before you both move to cover behind a nearby storage crate. He pulls the tracking fob from his pocket and the slow beeping indicates the asset is behind the closed bay doors several feet from your current position.

“He’s in there!” he shouts to the droid.

“Affirmative.”

With the help of the IG unit you and Mando move swiftly behind the pillars directly in front of the doors, firing your blasters back at the enemy the whole way. By the time all three of you are behind cover the blaster fire stops as the attackers continue to flood into the base and take positions behind you.

“It appears we are trapped.” The IG unit points out, “I will initiate self-destruct sequencing.” A rapid beeping soon fills the air.

“Whoa, you’re what?” Mando exclaims looking to the Droid wildly.

“Manufacturers protocol dictates I cannot be captured. I must self-destruct.”

“Do not self-destruct,” you call to the droid, “Cover me!”

“Hey, kid wait!” Mando calls, but you are already out in open and he has no choice but to cover you.

You head directly for the control panel on the door and rip it open. You start to fiddle with the wires inside trying to ignore the multiple blaster shots hitting the walls around you. Before you could connect the last wire, a well-aimed blaster shot hit the panel and fried the circuits. You ripped your hands away from the panel shaking them quickly as the heat seared your fingers.

“Shit! Go, go, move.” You called as you quickly moved behind cover again.

“There’s too many!” he quickly gunned down a few more people, “They’ve got us pinned.”

You snuck a peek from behind the pillar and saw a very big and destructive looking Gatling gun being moved into the center of the encampment. You ducked behind cover once more, eyes wide as you looked at Mando.

“Well we better figure something out because they just brought in reinforcements.”

“I will initiate self-destruct.”

“Do not self-destruct!” Mando commands clearly annoyed at saying the same thing, “We are shooting our way out.”

Finally, you follow as Mando and the droid step from behind the pillar but all three of you blanch at the sight of the large weapon.

“Okay,” Mando says surprised before you all step back behind cover and the gun rains blaster fire down on you all.

“Beginning self-destruct countdown.”

“No! stop it!” you exclaim, then look to Mando, “Well what do we do now?” You can hear the fear in your own voice, and you scold yourself mentally. You can’t be afraid, not now.

Mando seems to think for a moment before looking to the droid, “Draw their fire, and we’ll take it out!”

“Acceptable.” The droid agrees.

“Go!” The Mandalorian exclaims.

You follow Mando and watch as the Gatling was focused solely on the droid. Mando shot what looked to be a grappling hook from his gauntlet and ripped the large weapon from the creature controlling it. You quickly shot him before he could react and watched as Mando took control of the weapon and wiped out the rest of the Nikto in a matter of seconds. Once he was sure the threat was gone, he climbed down from the weapon and walked over to where you stood near the droid.

“Are you okay?” he asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

you nodded, and holster your blaster, “I’m fine, you?”

he just nodded as he went to offer the droid a hand, “You’re not so bad…for a droid” he told the IG unit.

“Agreed,” you said, “but that blaster hit looks nasty, you okay?” you ask the droid.

“Running a quick diagnostic,” you watch curiously as his head piece beeps and spins momentarily, “it has missed my central wiring harness.” He comments.

Mando sighs, “Is that good?”

“Yes.” The droid assures.

“Well, now we just need to get the door open,” Mando comments.

“I got it,” you say walking over to the control panel once more, you reach your hand in and grab a handful of wires, as you hear footsteps approach behind you.

“That isn’t going to work,” Mando comments, “The circuits were fried when –“ his sentence was cut short when you gave a low grunt and ripped a handful of wires and parts from the door and watch as it opened with a hiss.

You stood, a smug smile on your face, and dropped the destroyed mechanism in your hand, “You were saying?”

“Never mind.” He recants.

You smile and follow the two others into the room. Another Nikto man runs from behind a nearby wall but Mando quickly shoots him.

“Anyone else?” he asks rhetorically.

You roll your eyes. You were quickly finding out that he had a thing for theatrics.

“The tracking fob is still active. My sensors indicate that there is a life form present.” IG states.

Mando raises his blaster and you pull yours from your holster at the information. You watch as Mando’s fob seems to lead you all to a small pod that eerily resembled a bassinet.

What they hell was in there? you ask yourself.

You take a small step forward and remove a piece of netting from the pod and click a button on the front, causing the doors to open. You took a step back slightly and you felt your mouth drop open at what was found inside.

“Wait. They said fifty years old.” Mando’s voice was filled with confusion, while you couldn’t bring your self to say anything at all.

“Species age differently. Perhaps it could live many centuries.” The IG unit informed.

You watched as the small creature lifted a little hand and pulled the blanket around it down. Your heart seized as your eyes fell upon the small creature inside. His large brown eyes filled with curiosity and confusion as it stared up at the three strangers in front of it.

“Sadly, we will never know,” IG raised his blaster to point at the child.

“No!” you exclaim hand flying to the droid’s arm, panic rising within you at the though of killing this child, “We’ll bring it in alive.”

“The commission was quite specific. The asset was to be terminated.”

You held onto the droids’ arm as he tried to lift it again, but Mando laid his hand on yours and pulled it away. You looked at him, anger rising in you. How could he let this happen? you refused to take part in this act of infanticide and turned away, flinching slightly when you heard the gunshot. you stood waiting the the droid to spout off some statistic but whipped around when you heard metal crashing to the ground. You looked from the now dead IG unit to the smoking blaster in Mando’s hand, eyes wide as he offered his finger to the child in the bassinet. You stood in shock at the scene before you.

What just happened?

Tags: @tryn25 @igotmadskills @dizzydazed @mouseofmickey @therobinathome @lirinchi @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8 @fucking-dip-shit @maryan028 @s0yboy69 @c1996 @notmyspaghetti @humbleseame @peter-psker @riddlersfate @fandoms-equal-my-life @kaialisonflame @goth-pigeon @sinon36 @bruithel

Permanant Tag-list: @lord-wolfgen @petalduck

#The Mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x reader #dyn jarren x reader #din djarin x reader #dyn jarren #din djarin #the mandalorian #star wars

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 6 years

Text

How I make book covers + tips for you!

Hey people of Earth!

Around this time last year, I mentioned I would have a video up on how I make book covers/cover making tips, and to summarize: I did not do the thing, and this year old script is still sitting in my drafts.

SO, I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone and post a written version of these tips! Going to get straight into this because I imagine this will be rather long!

This post will be divided into 6 parts: finding inspiration, concept art, incorporating elements of design, composition, tools and software, and resources. Feel free to skip around to whatever section interests you most!

***Before we get started, really quick disclaimer. I am in no way a professional cover designer. Cover design is merely something I picked up on my own, and I don’t have any formal education/credentials in graphic design. So of course take my advice with that in mind. These are also just my personal thoughts and opinions. So take everything with a grain of salt!

1. Finding Inspiration

What’s the deal?

A really great way to start out in design

Finding cover designs or designers you admire may help you see what works technically

Helps nail down a style you like

In turn, can help you find your cover design style

What should you do?

Look at covers in your genre!

Whenever I design a cover, I take a scroll through Goodreads to pick up some inspiration in designs I personally love

I also love walking around my bookstore and taking a look at physical copies

Find a cover design you like, and point out the specific reasons you like it

Example:

Me and Earl and the Dying Girl was actually not an inspo cover for this edition of I’M DISAPPOINTED, but as you can see, things I liked from it spilled over into my own design. By pointing out aspects of graphic design you like, you’ll better be able to understand your style as a cover artist.

Some personal thoughts:

I like covers that include a textured backgrounds, as seen in the collage below:

So for the I’M DISAPPOINTED cover above, I included a textured background. I also love handwritten fonts/lettering, which I include in almost all of my book covers.

What I did:

Off-white colour from A List of Cages and Holding Up The Universe

Silhouette from Painless and previous cover design of I’m Disappointed

Speech bubble from Simon VS the Homo Sapiens Agenda and Say What You Will

Marker texture from A List of Cages

Obviously my thought process wasn’t to put 4 covers in a blender and thus create my product, ha, this is just an example for the ease of understanding!

2. Concept art

What’s the deal?

Coming up with concept art is a super important part of designing a successful book cover.

Acts as the skeleton of your book cover

Your book cover’s roadmap

Saves time/effort

Similar to an outline for a novel.

Can be a very quick sketch, or full fledged design

I like keeping my concept art quick, but if this is your first cover, making a more detailed mockup can help.

What should you do?

Sketch out book cover ideas once you get them/take notes of concepts you’d like to explore

If you can’t come up with concepts, take a look at your inspiration folder and pull concepts/ideas from covers you love

This does not mean copying another book cover (this is notttt a good idea!). BUT, pulling inspiration from elements you like on a cover can be helpful in generating your own concepts

You don’t have to come up with concept art (sometimes winging it works!) but I do recommend jotting notes down, and drawing out loose sketches when applicable!

Keep a list of ideas for book covers as you accumulate them (almost like a little vault of concepts lol) and reference them in the future!

Take a look at as many book covers as you can and make a list of elements you like and don’t like

This is one of the easiest ways to accumulate ideas/concepts!

Example:

^^^ Concept art for two book covers

Likes and dislikes in book covers:

Of course this list is not my be all and end all (nor should it be), and obviously, I still use these things (besides clunky composition I hope!) in some designs!

3. Incorporating the elements of design

What’s the deal?

There are 7 elements of design: line, shape, texture, form, space, value, and colour.

These sometimes vary depending on where you look, but this is what I was taught, so I’m going to be working off that!

Examples:

I’m going to go through them really quickly via an assignment I did for my comm tech class

Keep in mind this assignment is 2 years old and is only meant to give you an idea of what these elements are

1. Line

Line is probably the most important element of design as every piece of art starts with one.

There are various types of lines. You can have curved lines, straight lines, vertical lines, horizontal lines and so on.

2. Shape

You can have more mathematical, geometric shapes, or more abstract, free form shapes.

3. Texture

Texture is the feel of a particular surface.

Texture in my opinion is one of the most important elements when it comes to graphic design, especially book covers.

My favourite thing to see in book covers is texture, whether that be paper textures like construction paper, crumpled paper, wallpaper, lace, wall textures, paint textures, or marker textures

Texture adds depth to designs, and if there’s any element of design you focus on in this post, I’d highly recommend it be this one.

(i’m biased but still)

4. Form

Form is almost like shape, except instead of flat objects, we’re dealing with 3-dimensional objects.

I don’t often use it in my covers since I like drawings and flat shapes in my designs, but if you want to include objects on your cover, or any sort of 3D shape, this would be form.

5. Space

The distance around an object, to put it simply

Space in covers can help emphasize what’s important, and what is less important, or can draw attention to a particular piece of your design.

Examples of space:

Colour coding: yellow = space, teal = focal point/movement of viewer’s eye

In Twilight, the black space helps emphasize the main image, the hands holding the apple.

This also occurs in the Red Queen book covers. The empty space around the crown draws attention immediately to the focal point

You can also lack space. In The Duff, the girl’s face is the only thing you can see on the cover.

6. Value

Is determined by how much light or dark is incorporated into design.

Example of value:

A great example of value in book covers is on Alexandra Bracken’s Passenger. As you can see, the green at the top fades down in a gradient as more white is added to the centre.

7. Colour

Light reflecting off objects

Can make certain elements of your design stand out

Why should you incorporate the elements of design into your designs?

Adds layers of depth to your work

Thus can take your cover-making skills to another level

Can help in producing ideas

4. Composition:

What’s the deal?

In my opinion, can make or break a design

Can mean clutter of things, OR too much or too little space between elements

Title placement

Composition is sometimes subjective from design to design

What you can do:

Pay close attention to detail and spacing

Look out for natural shapes in your design you can fit elements into

Watch the linked video from Mango Street (one of my favourite photography channels) on composition

While photography and design are two different things, the tips in this video can also be applied to various ideas in design such as headroom and leading lines

youtube

Examples:

*Before I get into this, I want to make it clear that these examples are exaggerations for the purpose of showing you good and bad composition. If you make these mistakes, that doesn’t mean your design is bad, and again, I’m no professional. This comes from what I believe could be considered bad composition, but trust your gut.

Example 1: Stick People

doesn’t effectively use space

no headroom for text

text is covering 200 element (looks very clunky)

text is cut off

No focal point

Can’t read the title

Textual elements are better spread out

Title is now focal point

Slightly imbalanced

200 element is distracting

Addition of stick figures balances out cover

Text follows natural shape of photograph

Removed 200 element makes cover look less clunky

Example 2: Sixteen Cents

Half the title is on a dark background

Lacks readability

Last name is cut off by window

Uninteresting composition (everything is on one line)

No movement

Title placement is better

Better readability

‘A novel’ fits under windowsill

Last name is smaller to avoid cutting it off

Still slightly boring

Uses free space of wall wisely

Title is easy to read

Text is shaped around photo elements

Gives the cover some movement

Example 3: Fostered

Title is covering the focal point (the girl)

Title doesn’t seem to be incorporated into the design

By moving title down, we’ve made space for the subject

Title placement makes cover look less clunky

Same composition as prior but image is colour-graded

Embossed title adds texture/depth

I’ve mentioned this a few times in this post: focal point. What is it?

FOCAL POINT:

Is defined as the main attraction of your book cover

This is where you want your readers’ eyes to focus

Focal points can sometimes define themselves in areas where more contrast happens to be

Doesn’t have to be the centre of the page.

Keep focal point in mind for composition because if you put it in the wrong spot, you could end up drawing your readers’ attention to the wrong area of the cover.

The point of most interest in a cover is the focal point, so if you want a particular subject of your book cover, such as a person, to stand out make sure you don’t make the other areas of the cover too high contrast or busy.

Framing subjects also helps, so be creative!

The human eye tends to focus on areas with increased contrast so keep this in mind

Examples:

The Host

The camera has focused on the eye of the model, with the nose bridge and forehead shadowing each corner of the cover

Helps lead eye to focal point (the eye)

The Girls

Blue around the edges encircles the focal point (the girl), leading the viewer’s eye directly to her

Girl is also scarlet in colour, contrasting the background

The Hunger Games

Grey outlines on the cover lead straight to the mockingjay

Mockingjay is bright gold in comparison to the black background

Creates contrast, thus viewer’s eye is lead there

The Female of the Species

‘Straight’ composition

No particular focal point, viewer’s eye instead moves horizontally across the design

What should you do?

Use the natural shapes and outlines in your design/photo to fill your cover

Use your space wisely (see examples above)

Use leading lines to draw attention to your focal point

Manipulate text to fill empty spaces

5. Tools and software

You do not need Photoshop to make a good book cover

I made my first book covers in GIMP, a free image manipulation program (kinda like Photoshop’s little brother)

This is the stick people cover I made in photoshop, and the same cover made in GIMP.

Other tools you may want to use are CreateSpace’s cover templates.

You can find these through CreateSpace OR Bookow (my personal fave)

OPTIONAL (what I use):

Graphics tablet

I use the Huion H610 which I really enjoy!

I use this to hand letter, draw silhouettes, create concept art, and so on

Paper and my Faber Castell India Ink Artist Pens.

These are fine tip markers, and are what I used to create the text on I’m Disappointed

Thin sharpies and pens will also do the job, and you can always clean any mistakes up in photoshop or gimp.

A scanner so I can transfer what I’ve hand drawn onto my computer

If you don’t have a scanner you can take a clear photograph on a camera or phone

I also use a few custom marker brushes that now come with the 2018 version of Photoshop

The main one I use is Kyle’s AM - Watercolour Paper from the art markers set (you have to load these into Photoshop, but if you have PS 2018, you should have access to ‘em).

(I’ve lettered everything in this post with that brush)

6. Resources

Here’s a list of amazing resources you might need when making your own book covers!

1. Stock image websites

Check out THIS post for a master list of my favourite stock photo websites!

Stocksnap.io

Unsplash.com

Pixabay.com

2. Dafont

Is my main source for finding fonts

3. Goodreads

A huge resource I use to find cover inspiration

I’ll often browse the new releases section to look at new covers and so on

Easy way to narrow down the genre of cover you’re looking for, as well as the age category

4. Keyboard shortcuts

Check out a masterlist for Photoshop HERE

GIMP masterlist HERE

Makes workflow super efficient

My fave I highly recommend in Photoshop is ctrl > shift > alt > e (merge all layers into new layer)

I’ve made TWO custom shortcuts: ctrl > shift > o is now open as layer, and ctrl > shift > alt > r is now rasterize layer (these save so much time!)

So to conclude this post, I’m going to list out some of my favourite tips when it comes to cover making (sort of a reiteration of this post)

Add texture!

Texture is a super easy way to add dimension to your book cover

Try lettering with a paper and marker when starting out

I find this a lot easier than digital lettering!

Google is your friendddd

If you can’t figure out how to do something in Photoshop or GIMP, the internet is a vast depository of information!

Pay attention to detail

Cover design is alllll about the small details. Making sure you’ve centred something properly can seriously help in making your cover go from amateur to whoaaa who made thatttt

Get a second opinion

Been looking at your screen for 8 hours straight? Ask someone you know what they think of your design! I find this has sparked a lot of secondhand ideas!

If it doesn't work out, doesn't mean it was a fail

If a particular concept just doesn’t work, don’t worry! As you practice you’ll get better, and you can always revisit the concept for another novel!

EDIT: a really great suggestion from @sarahkelsiwrites: print out your design if you need a fresh perspective! You’d be surprised by what you notice on screen VS off!

So that’s it for this post! I hope this was helpful for some of you guys, I know it was looooong overdue. If it helped you out, let me know, and if you have any questions, feel free to send ‘em my way! :))

--Rachel

#writing #writerblr #amwriting #art

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askmissjoker · 6 years

Photo

AKIRA’S PALACE.

For the last several months, I had a palace campaign developed for a group of rp friends. Now that the campaign has long since reached its completion, I figure I can show people everything I did in regards to it!

The palace was focused on Akira’s guilt for her friends deaths during her first timeline, as you saw from this ask. In the roleplay, Akira tried to take care of everyone in her group of ragtag friends but they kept getting into trouble and got hurt over and over again. She felt immense despair, slowly blaming herself for things not going right-- and eventually, gave birth to a palace where she was the prisoner, locked away by her own choice to protect everyone else.

Keywords:

Target: Akira Kurusu

Place of distortion: Cafe Leblanc

Distortion: Prison

Player characters:

Mona

Crow

Panther

Arsene

Oracle

Megiddo (a different male akira)

Map designs, original persona, and details under the cut

Entrance

The players found themselves standing on the street outside of Leblanc, everything looking pretty normal and standard-- expect for the building. In its place stood a blue building the colour of the velvet room and a tall metal fence that prevented them from progressing. Speaking to Lavaneza, who stood outside the real Velvet room’s door, told those who asked: "I do not have any methods nor information to assist you with, young trickster, for those who enter are already dead.”

Through some investigation, the players were able to find a broken piece in the surrounding fence. Someone clearly had been there before them, taking a literal sledge hammer to the metal and bending it upwards so the thieves can slip underneath and get inside. Two security towers loomed over the area, however one seemed to be damaged-- another indicator that they likely weren’t alone.

Floor 0-- The fool

After making their way into the palace and dodging out of the light of two search towers, they find themselves in a room that holds a strong resemblance to the velvet room. 3 cells each line the walls, labeled with a name plate and hand scanner: looking at them closely, the players can see that they hold the names of the Phantom Thieves: Ann, Futaba, Haru, Makoto, Yusuke, Ryuji... Is there a name missing?

In the center of the room is a huge hole covered by thick glass that allows you to see downwards to all of the palace.

The cell doors only opened depending on who the players had in their party. Since they had an Ann and Futaba, they were allowed entry into their respective rooms and spoke to the cognitions there. It was revealed that the cognitions weren’t of themselves, but of the Phantom Thieves’ Akira lost in her own timeline.

After exploring the two cells, Shadow Akira showed herself to the group, asking them to leave. The group refused, and she gave one of the players (Akechi), a folder with a keycard to progress further into the palace before she allowed herself to fall through the glass, descending to the floors bellow.

Floor 1-- The Chariot

On the next floor was two smaller towers with spotlights on them, shadows manning each tower on the lookout for intruders. The players sneaked past and took out each shadow, Akechi causing a small blackout after shooting his gun at a electric socket. The group also stumbled upon a treasure chest, retrieving a special sword for Akechi.

Making their way past a puzzle, they overheard shadows speaking to someone called Miss Kurusu-- Akira’s mother. Tricking these shadows, the group got the keycards needed to move on to the next floor.

Floor 2-- The Lovers

The group was starting to get worn out from their leader’s constant need to fight every shadow, so they took a small break to recoup as they weighed their options. They ended up making it further through the floor and found a large screen and two doors. A cognitive Futaba of one of the muses hacked through the feed to talk to the players--and they promised to meet up to exchange notes as it’s revealed there was a cognitive group of phantom thieves trying to get into the palace--the same friends Akira was trying to protect.

The group manages to solve a puzzle and get through to the next room, which is divided in half by a wall of glass.

In each room, there was shards of glass with masks painted on them--masks of the phantom thieves. However, when two members of the group went into the opposite room to try and get the rest of the shards, both exits locked and the room on the left began filling with water. Fun! That’s when they first met the Lupeux--a shadowy being with sharp white teeth that could melt into shadow. It almost took out the leader of the party, but when the group on the other side figured out the puzzle, it escaped to the next floor.

This is where the group took a break and returned back to the entrance of the palace to talk to the cognitions of themselves. That was a time LOL

Floor 3-- The High Priestess

On this floor, the players were given two options. Go through the first door, or go through the second door. First door was a puzzle involving tarot cards that ended up being unused, and the second door was a logic puzzle. Only thing is, that logic puzzle was 500% hijacked by a certain persona that the group let escape...

Fight: Lupeux

To be honest, the Lupeux wasn’t supposed to be such a big deal. In my concept writing, it was just another shadow--but I ended up going all out with it! Here’s a little excerpt:

Bullets lace into the mirrors, easily shattering any surface that comes into contact with the barrel of a gun. The cracks of the mirrors extend the length of the hall, growing in intensity before giving out and sending thousands of sharp shards flying. Not to be one left out, Mona draws his slingshot and joins the fray, aiding in the shattering of more mirrors.

Laughter fills the hallways as gunfire threatens to drown it out, however Lupeux is loosing places to play it's game. Distorted images of the Phantom Thieves don't even remain anymore-- only showing the backing wall that held the mirrors up. Bullet holes lay scattered across its surface, growing the cracks in the very foundation of the walls and leaving very clear exit marks.

"Here! Here! Let me help you!" It giggles, voice of Crow melting and shifting until it became almost unrecognizable.

All at once, the walls cave and crumble, remaining mirror walls left in shambles as everything falls to the ground. The group is left standing on the thin pathway, now exposed to the open air. All around them is only darkness, and a giant pit that leads downwards that you cannot see the bottom of. You can see the exit, now clearly visible and lacking any tricks, and the walls of the other path you could have taken very far away from you.

Lupeux is nowhere to be seen for a short while, though the darkness around the group shifts and bubbles as if it's alive. A long leg of shadow climbs out from it's depths, familiar toothy grin spiraling and clicking as it reforms in front of the group's eyes. A red, beady iris flickers and hones in on the group as it pulls more and more darkness into its body, consuming shadow in seemingly infinite supply. It perches itself on the other path, growing in size as time goes on, and laughs silently. The only way you're able to separate it from the backdrop of nothingness is it's sharp teeth that it clicks, as if in challenge.

Check out Quire’s art from the scene! It was fun tormenting them :))

Floor 4-- Justice

This floor was a Bit of a Time(tm). Two player characters ended up in some of the jail cells due to them almost dying, and Akira’s mom and Sae ended up talking to them. After a terrible roll in trying to knock Sae out (it was eventually successful) the united group went to the main room where a trial was said to be held. There they fought the midboss of the campaign, Akira’s mother.

Midboss:

Maragarethe [Null Curse. Resist gun]

way too many moves ngl. she just wanted to brainwash the party though

Akira’s mother was probably one of the concepts of the palace that never really changed? Her design remained the same throughout all my concept art and at this point it’s quite clear i have a certain Aesthetic haha. Those eyes especially were my favourite...

After beating her up, there was only a couple floors left.

Just a pretty empty foor--a transition to the next. In order to get through you needed a Morgana and Akechi in the party. Which, this group happened to have :)

Leblanc

After going through the prison the players opened the final door and... found themselves right where they started--inside Leblanc. Only this was clearly still a cognitive version of Leblanc, and had a lot of things about it that felt ‘off’. For one there were doors on the side, for another the windows were replaced with mirrors. Oh, and when the whole group went inside the Akechi of the group had a gun pointed at his head by Akira’s original Akechi. The one that died in her first timeline.

I’ll keep what happened a secret unless people asked, but the group secured the infiltration route and sent the calling card (it was an emotional time).

Boss floor

After the calling card triggered and the group was inside, they made their way to the treasure room (Leblanc’s attic). The treasure however was gone, and Shadow Akira found them, this time with her mask on.

The whole room collapsed around them, revealing a room no one could escape. And so, the fight began.

Boss Phase 1: Lady

Lady’s first phase was more on the easy side to handle--all she had to work with was a mirror of the personas I had originally played with during other campaigns. This meant she had a limit to what she could do, especially since I nerfed her early on with her persona choices. After being knocked down to around half health, she shifted into phase 2.

Boss phase 2: A̮̯̙̬͎͓̥̦̕r̡̖̩̩̣̲̪͢s̪̳̰̝̜̝͘͠ͅe҉͙̠̳͉̗̞̻̙n̡͉͘e̶̦̼̪͚?͏̪̭̀͞A͉̹̟͟k̶̟͖̟͈̩̼̰̞̯͟i̭͉̣r͔͓͠a̶̲͈̺͍͙

Phase 2 was rougher--I gave her a wide move pool with some original moves that if the group didn’t guard, they’d be automatically knocked down (and susceptible to an all out attack). Luckily that didn’t happen though! The group won, the treasure being Akira’s mask.

In the real world the treasure remained her mask, however in hindsight it should have been her original rounded glasses--since she only got her square ones in her second timeline, not the first.

Notes:

There were originally 7 floors planned, and I still have the designs for them! Each floor was based off of one of the PTs, but it turned out to be too long to reasonably go through in a campaign.

I have a book that is 30 pages of planning and plotting for this palace. I really wanted to make it personal to my players and to cater to their characters and give them content to allow them to explore sides of their muses they haven’t been able to do before. Because of this, I had several events planned just for each muse in mind. Not all of it got used in the end, but it was fun!

Some players had to duck out of the RP for their own health, so the palace was modified after their departure to accommodate such!

Original Shadows

Where would a Palace be without some exclusive shadows? Nowhere that’s what! All of these designs were inspired by french folklore and stories

Matagot [weak to bless, resist everything else ]

Inflict Fear (high odds) to 1 foe

Instantly kill all foes under Fear

Medium Physical damage to 1 foe 2x

Medium Physical damage and inflict Fear (medium odds) to 2 foe

Inflict confuse (medium odds) to all foes

Wolf [absorb curse, absorb gun]

Medium Physical damage to all foes.

Medium Physical damage and inflict Forget (low odds) to all foes.

Colossal Physical damage to 1 foe.

Red [Reflect Gun, Absorb Curse,]

17% HP

Severe Gun damage to 1 foe. High critical rate.

24% HP

Severe Gun damage to all foes.

12 SP

Heavy Curse damage to 1 foe

15 SP

Medium chance of instantly killing 1 foe

#persona 5 #p5 #akira kusuru #ren amamiya #persona #;Not this (not an ask)

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littlelolay · 6 years

Text

THORN? TORN. *FIVE

A/N: Surprise! I know I said probably on Monday or Tuesday, but I couldn't help myself. I adore you guys so much already, so here's a little gift from me. The next chapter of Thorn? Torn. I'd like to call this chapter, "The Calm before the Storm." Lol, anyways. That's the only thing I'm giving out about the next one, not gonna give out any further details.

CHAPTER(S): ONE. TWO. THREE. THREE/2. FOUR. FIVE. SIX.

PAIRING: READER X ???? (It's still a secret, but you guys can draw up to your own conclusions ehehehehehe *insert tom laughing

PREVIOUSLY ON THORN? TORN.

I wanted to scream, I couldn’t breathe. I look at Loki one last time who now stood before me, concern etched on his face before shaking my head, more at myself– disapprovingly. This was wrong. I stalked away, my feet taking me away from the living area in search for the comforts of a room that I currently now resided but before I could get away too far, I felt his cold hand again– this time on my waist. He pulled me back, spinning me around to face him. “Y/N, breathe. Please.” he said calmly, his hands now moving to grasp my arms.

“Please– please…” I cried, shaking my head as I start to push him away. “Please, just leave me alone.”

I avoided his gaze, even as he releases me from his grip. I didn’t even bother to look at him as I ran away.

Ran towards my room.

Away from someone who just wanted to help.

They can’t help you. You can’t be helped.

You’re dangerous.

I wanted to scream. These voices pounded in my head. I wanted to tear myself apart.

I was falling apart.

And instead of asking for help, I pushed it away.

Pathetic.

CHAPTER FIVE

My eyes meet the white ceiling again as I awoke, the light from outside peeking through a small gap from the curtains– hitting me just right across the face to awaken me from my slumber.

After my encounter with Loki last night and me running away from his help into the comforts of solitary, it took awhile for sleep to consume my exhausted self– my own thoughts ganging up against me as I stared at the ceiling my gaze is currently locked on. I had even imagined burning holes through the ceiling in irritation, maybe if I continued to stare at it for a little while longer it just might happen.

At the moment, I'm in a current battle with myself whether to get out of bed and seek for comfort food but it was up against negative thoughts of meeting the Avengers. After certain events from yesterday, I was positive they would be walking eggshells around me. That's the last thing I wanted to happen, for people to hide their true self from me.

Maybe Loki can assist. I scowled at myself at the thought. No, he doesn't really want to help you.

"Y/N?" Stephen's voice rang through my ears. I fight the urge to let out a sigh, not wanting to worry him. I immediately plastered a smile on my face and push myself up to sit on the bed as I heard his footsteps approaching. "Oh, good. You're awake. Get up, let's get you some breakfast."

The thought of breakfast makes my stomach grumble but I'm still in a battle of leaving the comforts of this room to face people who clearly don't want anything to do with me. "You really sure that's a wise idea, Stephen? After everything–"

He cuts me off with a stern look as he holds his hand out for me to take, "Don't beat yourself up for that, Y/N. We've talked about this."

My gaze drops to his hand, staring at it for a second before letting out a sigh. "Fine, just let me get ready. I'm not getting out of here looking like a train wreck." I muttered underneath my breath and I gestured him to go outside. I watch him leave the room, the door shutting behind him before climbing out of bed and entering the adjoined bathroom.

I was instantly met with a reflection of myself and it was disappointing. I already felt weak, and yet– I look weak too. The bags under my eyes were darker than usual and my skin tone was paler. Was it even possible to have sunken cheeks in just a day?

I wanted to smash the vanity mirror into pieces. I let out a shaky breath as I closed my eyes for a minute to contain my emotions that were suddenly starting to go insane again. When things like this happened, I usually had the gym to take it all out but unfortunately– there hadn't been time, nor do I know where the gym here was located. I had assumed there was a gym; they would need to get in shape after all– for being 'superheroes'.

My muscles relaxed as I regain my composure, splashing cold water to my face a couple of times to awaken my sleepy state. Grabbing a towel that was provided for the room, I gently patted the soft material against my skin to get rid of the excess water. Placing it aside afterwards so I can pull my hair up to a high ponytail– trying my best to make it as neat as possible before conjuring up a black hair-tie with my fingers and using it to tie my hair up in place.

I give myself one last look before retreating from my room, Stephen waiting for me patiently with a worried look on his face. "You're going to look a lot older if you keep looking at me like that."

He shook his head with a laugh, the muscles around his face relaxing as he holds out his hand for me to take. I stare at it for a second before grabbing it with my own, our fingers lacing and he gives it a gentle squeeze. "Everything will be okay, Y/N. You'll see."

Somehow, I doubted it.

Just by approaching the kitchen where the rest of the Avengers were, confirmed my assumptions that everything wasn't going to be okay.

Fake smiles. They don't really care; they're just trying to save their own butts.

"Y/N, hey…" the one I've come to know as Captain America, Steve Rogers greeted as Stephen and I approached one of the counters. I felt Stephen give my hand another squeeze– a sign that I should interact back, but I refused, keeping silent. "Bucky and I over here were just discussing, and he'll love to have you join him in the training room. That is, if you're okay with that."

I look at him then at the man beside him, keeping my best poker face on as I create scenarios in my head. A part of me was screaming to say no, but I needed to release some stress out anyway. I give him a nod and looked back over at Steve, "Thank you. I suppose later will do."

"Right. So once you're ready, Bucky will be waiting for you. No rush." He said coolly, a smile of reassurance plastered on his face. There was something about the Captain that made me feel safe, his aura was calm and gentle. I watched him move away from his spot before looking back over to the man that Captain had called 'Bucky', I couldn't put my finger on it– I couldn't read him as much as I wanted to, which was a surprise.

Releasing Stephen's hand, I placed both of my hands on the cold surface of the counter before Stephen begins to pull a plate for me, food appearing instantly on the platter as he uses his mind to send the flood on the plate instead of picking stuff on his own. I meet Bucky's eyes once more as I felt his gaze never leaving on me. Clearing my throat as I felt awkward in the situation, lightly nipping on the bottom of lip as I find the right words to say in my head before speaking, "Uh, Bucky is there a way you could help me though? I'm not really sure where the training room is."

He watches me for a second before giving me a nod, "Sure, we can train before lunch. I'll be in the common room when you're ready."

All I could muster up was a nod of appreciation before lowering my gaze down to the plate Stephen had pushed towards my direction. "Thanks." I mumbled softly to Stephen, my hand conjuring up a fork. Not removing my gaze away from the food, I started picking on the piece of bacon with the fork before looking back up once I felt that Bucky's presence had retreated. I released a sigh of relief.

"See, you're doing fine." Stephen said reassuringly, snapping me from my thoughts. I scoffed; of course he would think such a thing. "Go on and eat some breakfast so you can get ready for training." I simply nodded as we ate in silence, not bothering to look around the room full of avengers who I felt steal glances towards my way. I can practically feel their stare burning through me like lasers, it's not like I'm going to get someone killed.

I didn't eat much, not really having the appetite to do so. I mean, I was hungry before entering the kitchen– but their stares were more of an off factor for me, it threw me off guard– was watching me eat so entertaining?

I left as soon as I could– eating just enough for Stephen to not pester and fuss about my health. I didn't even look back as I retreated back to my room, even though Stephen was calling me back. I just wanted to be alone, and I wanted to release all of my anger soon.

Time rolled by fast as I prepared for the day to meet with Bucky. I got myself cleaned and dressed into appropriate clothing– a simple sports bra and a pair of black leggings, with matching shoes to go along with it. I honestly didn't know what Bucky had planned for the day. It was probably something I wasn't accustomed to– training with assassins meant being lightweight and quick with every move. Agility and Stealth being the most important things that Master Jia Li and Ru Shi have taught me– but they constantly told me I was nowhere near ready, nowhere near an assassin; my emotions being my mortal enemy, as they like to put it.

I was finally able to track Bucky down at the living area where he patiently waited for me. As soon as I came into his view, he gave me a nod and gestured me to follow him and I obliged– wanting to get this over with as soon as possible.

It took me at least an hour to get used to Bucky's strength, not wanting to use my abilities to have a fair fight. I wanted to, deep down claim– that I could handle his strength but I had a good feeling that he was being easy on me. I inwardly scoffed as I keep my eyes locked on Bucky who didn't even look tired compared to me. I was practically out of breath without using my abilities. He pushed me on, claiming it'd be okay for me to use them but I had refused.

And I'm kind of regretting that now– now that he has me pinned down onto the padded mats, his hand around my throat. My gaze was blurry, as I looked up at him, not really bothering to listen to what he was saying. I had enough of this.

Using all of the energy that I had left, my hand gripped onto his wrist and spun it around causing him to yell in pain. At this moment, my vision was a blur as I pushed myself up– quickly using the advantage to roll us over, using my knee to pin his metal arm down the padded mats and my right foot pressing his now injured hand down causing him to yell out in pain once more, my hand wrapping around his neck.

We stayed in that position for quite sometime, my panting going at an abnormal rate before my eyes widened at the sight of Bucky underneath me. His face was scrunched up in pain and I moved myself away, pushing myself off of him.

I did that.

And I had no recollection as to how I did it.

Everything was a blur.

What the fuck just happened?

"I…" I muttered underneath my breath as I stare down at Bucky who was slowly pushing himself to sit. I shook my head and spun around heading towards the door. It was all too quick, but I don't know how Bucky could have pulled me back by the arm.

"Don't, it's okay." He whispered and I fought the urge to spin around and look at him. It wasn't my intention to hurt him. "You didn't hurt me, Y/N. It's okay, I'm fine. Hey– hey, Y/N. Look at me."

He demanded and I slowly turned, my face scrunched up in worry. "You're just saying that–I…"

"I said, don't." He repeated firmly and all I could muster up was a nod. "I get it, your emotions are all over the place but don't keep it inside. Let it out."

"The moment I let it out, you got hurt! Don't lie to me, I could have broken your wrist!"

"But you didn't!" he barked, causing me to jump a little on the spot, both of his hands now gripping onto my arms, his metal hand pressing against my skin caused me to shiver from the coldness. Just like Loki's. I shook the thought of Loki out of my head as I feel his grip on my arms tighten– his metal hand relaxed, he didn't want to hurt or scare me. "It'll heal, it's fine. You need to understand the more that you keep it all bottled up and you get into situations where you let your emotions take over– that's it! You won't be able to realize what you're doing anymore, and I get that you're scared of that but you need to accept that they are a part of you. Stop being so scared!"

As the day passed by quickly, Bucky and I were attached to the hip. After he had yelled at me, I supposed something snapped and we were yelling back and forth. Stephen worried, but I said nothing. I had wanted to stay by Bucky as he showed me around the tower and eventually I had decided to be left alone once we've reached the library that was provided, it wasn't huge like the one in the manor but it would have to do. Giving Bucky one last look, memories of what had happened in the training room start flooding my mind.

"Have you ever thought that maybe I don't need your fucking help!" I screamed at him as I pulled away from his grasp. "Have you ever thought that just maybe, just fucking maybe– that I don't need anyone telling me to do!"

He scoffed. "Continue telling yourself that, doll but you and I both know that I'm right. You hide away in that little room of yours because you're afraid– afraid of the judgment that might come your way but news flash, princess– that isn't going to help you one bit so stop fighting back and listen!"

"Well, I'm fucking tired of listening! I feel like shit and everything is just too much!" I cried out, stepping forward– and suddenly my fists were punching Bucky's chest as if he was a punching bag back at manor. "I just want everything to stop! I want the people in my head to fucking stop! I want to be left alone! So why can't you do that, huh? Why can't you fucking leave me alone! Why do you have to act all mighty and decide to help me, it's no fucking use! No one can help me!"

"If you think for a second I'm going to feel sorry for that sob story of yours, doll. Think again." He snapped, grasping onto my hands with his own. "I'm not going anywhere, whether you like it or not."

"Y/N? You alright, doll?" he asked snapping me from my thoughts, worry evident in his eyes. The corners of my mouth tug up to a small smile as I give him a nod. "Alright, I'll see you tomorrow then. Training room, usual time."

I watched his retreating figure, my heart beating faster than usual at the thought of training with Bucky tomorrow. He was– he was a person I could trust now, somehow. He was treating me just like what I yearned for– like a person who needed to be put in her place, someone who needed to be slapped of reality without thinking if it's going to affect me because I was an adult who needs to be capable of doing things her own– unlike Stephen, who treated me like a child. Yes, I felt comfortable around Bucky.

A sigh escaped my lips before I spun around to face the scene of books before me, inhaling the scent of books that surrounded the atmosphere. The library at the manor used to be what could calm me down; reading books would remove the negative voices in my head as I go on certain adventures.

"You seem rather close to the winter soldier."

My attention snapped to the intruder, my position shifting to an alarming stance– ready for an attack, just as like what Bucky taught me earlier.

"Always the feisty one." My intruder chuckled as he began approaching me, his brow arching in curiosity, "What? No dagger this time? I'm disappointed. I quite like your choice of weaponry."

"Loki…" I whispered as my muscles began to relax, shifting my feet to stand straight; my gaze never leaving his figure, "What're you doing here?"

"Well, darling…" he drawled, standing in front of me now, "This is where most of my time is consumed."

He was kidding right? I searched his eyes, his features; even his body language to try and detect an indication that he was telling a lie but to no avail. "You read?"

"Is that such a surprise?" he quirked an eyebrow as he took another step forward. Too– close. "I'm offended. Now, tell me– darling, why is it that you decide to spend time with the soldier but when it came to me you run away? Do I frighten you?" he asked, his voice soft– almost like a whisper that sent a shiver down my spine. Yup, he was very close now. "You seem nervous now, Y/N. Has a feline gotten your tongue? Do I make you nervous?"

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I shake my head before lifting my hands up between the little space we had between us. I press my palms flat against his chest and pushed him away ever so slightly as I spoke, "No, Loki. I'm fine."

A smile almost tugs upon his lips at my actions but before I could push him away further, he holds onto my hands with his– and my heart skips. "Please, don't run away from me this time. Let me help you."

"I–I…" I stuttered from his actions, my hands feeling slightly cold from his touch. I tried my best to avoid his gaze but I was completely failing at doing so. One of his hands moves away and I swear– I had wanted to grab onto it once more like a baby losing his favorite toy, but his next move shocks me even more. I feel his fingers brush along my jawline and he tilts my head back by my chin with his thumb and index finger. My legs felt like jelly. I wanted to melt as those eyes bore into my own. My lips parted– my mind searching for something to say but instead I decide against it, not trusting myself so I gave him a nod.

His smile blew me away and before I could comprehend what was happening next, his fingers were intertwined with mine as he dragged me to one of the couches that were situated in front of a modern fireplace.

And somehow, instead of running away…

I felt–

Peace.

A/N: LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS THINK, KISSES. I'm going to start apologizing now because if you're reading this and you've finally jumped into my ship, you are about to go on a rollercoaster ride. I'm someone who likes to write conflicts, sometimes– even have love triangles, and obviously from where this is headed, our little reader is already starting to develop feelings for not just one man. Buuuuut, I'm not saying anything further ehehehehehe. Okay, signing off. Again, let me know what you guys think! If you have any suggestions on what you want to see in this series, don't be afraid to do so!

Want to be tagged? Let me know!

TTTAGGED: @alessia--winchester @totobyafricaa @wipplog

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purintarts · 7 years

Text

The Pirate and Mermale Pt 1. (VxMC)

I always like Pirates AU. Thank you so much for this chance me darling @ beyazsuvari!

Warning, It’s gonna be pretttyyy longgg so I’m dividing it into two parts.

I got carried away sorrynotsorry

and I feel like drawing some of the scenes too, lol

INDULGE MERMAN V

The sounds of waves crashed against the ship, the sky rumbling with thunder, rain fell like showers and the wind blew so strong that a few barrels flown away.

Whose bright idea was it to look for treasure during this monsoon season?

Of course, you did.

Sane people would stay away from the sea during this season, which means less competitors to hunt for one of the ancient treasures.

The golden goldfish.

As legend said, if you find the golden goldfish, it would poop gold. Unlike normal goldfishes, they lived in dark waters that make their gold scales more prominent. However, it is difficult to find them due to the fact they live in a castle made of solid gold deep under the sea with dangers lurking.

Goldfish or not, if you get some of the treasures from the gold castle.

The things you’ll do with them.

Will you get a chest full of gold? Or maybe a golden bed? A golden throne will work too, Or or-

“Captain, yer makin’ the odd look again”

You snapped from your fantasy, wiping away your drool. Looking over to your right hand man.

“I ain’t not”

“We need yer orda capt, the wind too strong. Any longer, de ship bout’ to blow” Said one of your crews.

You narrowed your eyes as you looked at the lightning flashed before your eyes. Fixing your hat and rolling up your sleeves, showing the numerous tattoos that painted on your arms.

“Ay listen up! You, raise the sail! We gonna make a turn, change da direction!”

“We goin’ to land Capt?”

“No idiot! We takin’ a detour! Get cha ass workin’!”

You barked orders towards your crews and they rushed to their task. Shouting as loud as they can to one another to defeat the sound of the storm. You stir the wheel to fight and hold on against the huge waves.

You won’t be defeat by some waves, by hook by crook, the treasure will be in your hands by the time this season end.

The room was illuminated by the multiple candles you lit up. After the stormy night, you were glad that it stopped raining before dawn.

The rest of the crew were asleep except a few who needs to keep the engines running. You took the pencil, tracing it on the map.

There were three possible places of the golden goldfish, you went to the other two but alas, they weren’t there. Which leaves the last place.

Judging with the compass and calculations (yes pirates do math), you would reach the place in 11 days. You scribble some notes and study the route.

The gold throne can be felt by the end of your fingertips.

Though, the fact that is deep in the sea. There would be monsters and mermaids. Urgh, terrifying creatures. You need to figure out a way to go down the sea.

Firstly, you need to find the pink seaweed and only then will that lead you to the golden goldfish. You pray that this place has pink seaweed since the others didn’t.

You must and will achieve it.

The feast that the crew could have, no more fish! The table would be full of meat and rum.

“Capt, yer makin’ the odd look again”

“Shut yer trap and hit da hay already”

7 more days before you reached your destination. You can’t afford to go to land and re-stock, therefore, fish it is!

Again.

“7 days till meat” you grumbled as you waved your hand at two of your crews.

They throw the net into the sea to catch some food for the trip. You walked around the ship, checking the status of the ships with each of your crews.

Due to the heavy storms you been facing, the ship needs to be fixed every day. Especially before the next storm. A broken ship against a storm? Not a nice combination.

“Woah! Tis is some heavy fish”

“Maybe it’s Salmon!”

“Ay idiot! Tis ain’t salmon habitat!”

“Tuna?”

“Just lift em up ugly”

You walked towards the two males to see the fuss. You are rather curious on what dinner it will be. Maybe it wasn’t fish. Maybe it is a giant squid. But that would make a mess on a ship but it’s a change from fish.

The two males grunt as they managed to pull the net on board. There were a couple of fish that flew on the impact, well it wasn’t tuna or salmon alright. Nor was it a squid.

It was a male.

With a fish tail.

It’s a fish-male.

Or was it a male fish? Man fish? Hot body with slimy tale man fish?

“IT’S A MERMAID!”

“No you idiot! Mermaid is a woman, that ain’t woman, there no milk bags”

“What if her milk bags are tini?”

“Don’t offend her!”

“It ain’t a ‘her’ idiot!”

“I’m not blind pigeon!”

“It’s a mermale!” you snapped your fingers

“No capt, it’s a mer-MAN” your right hand man corrected

You glared at him and he automatically raised his hand up in defense.

“Mermale it is”

You looked over to the mermale, he was tangled with the nets that unable for him to move. Mid-long wavy teal hair, teal eyes, pale skin with teal tail.

Talking about matching colours.

You walked towards him, you could see him struggling under the net to break free but alas, with a wave of an arm, your crew tied up the net so he won’t be able to break free.

Pressing your foot on his chest to make him stop moving, you tilted your head as you studied his eyes when he looked at you. You could see he was frightened.

“The last mermaids were brave. Were de males different?” you questioned “Or isit cause you alone?”

The man gulped as he stared at you, he loosens the tension from his body. As if he was giving up on his life, shutting his eyes as he sighs.

“What do you need of me? I do not sing nor do I have powers like the fellow maidens. I can’t give you anything” he croaked.

Well that’s surprising. Usually mermaids have beautiful voice despite being in the sea water, this one… really sounds like he drinks sea water.

“Then why you exist if you are useless?” you question, brushing the tip of your boot up to his chest and to his cheek.

“Careful capt, he might have canines” your right hand mind whispered before taking a step back.

“Well?” you asked the merman again.

“Our purpose… Is just to reproduce” he stated, looking away as his face turned red.

“How adorable” you took your sword and cut off the net from him

“CAPTAIN!”

The crew gasped at your actions. Well, you’re not surprised of their expression. Some mermaids are terrifying as they feed on humans. There were a few with sharp teeth like sharks. Not to mention, their singing are just to lure you in before they eat you up.

You doubt that this one is different. Maybe it was just his tactic to get your guards down before he ate you all.

Just as he sat up, all the crews had their swords pointed at him and the fear in his eyes became more evident. You laughed as you crossed your arms.

“This one is obviously a pup” you laughed “What do they call you?”

“M-My name is V” he gulped “Please! Just kill me!”

“Look at em boys, what’s the fun in goin’ straight for the kill?” you walked around him.

Your eyes turned to his tail that was beginning to turn transparent, you knew his legs will be out soon. Your eyes studied him as you crossed your arms. An idea popped into your mind and you saw your key to the golden goldfish right in front of you.

“Well V, do you wish to live?”

The teal haired man looked at you, staring at you before he slowly nods.

“Then you need to help me”

The mermale, V’s mouth was tied up before he was dragged away to your room. His legs were out but as you suspected, he was a young pup. He could barely stand.

He was obviously not used on legs.

You threw a blanket a him covering his private and legs as your crew tied his arms behind the chair. He was seated in front of your map, across you.

Just as they had tied him up, they took off the cloth from his mouth before stepping behind. V glared at them in rage but he knew he was no match.

“Well V. Pink Seaweed. Where are they?”

“W-why would you need to find them?” he croaked

“Get him some drinking water boys. And the questions will only be asked by me”

After giving him water and questions were thrown back and forth. V sighed as he shook his head.

“You won’t survive there”

“Why not?”

“There are creatures”

“And?”

“You will die”

You smirked as you grabbed his chin, making him look at you.

“I don’t die easily, pup”

His teal eyes stared at you, as if he was studying you. Pursing his lips, he looked towards the map before turning to look at you once more.

“South-West. There”

The smirk on your lips stretched further.

“Atta’ boy”

The night was calm for once without any rain or storms. Due to the calm weather, the crew could finally get a proper night’s sleep and as always you were still awake.

You walked out from your room, scanning your surroundings. The ship is still moving towards its destination and a couple of crews were up drinking or smoking while being on night shift.

You went to the first level of the lower deck where all the crews sleep, you were greeted with loud snores and grumblings. You went to the next level where the food stocks were. You walked pass the sleeping cook and went towards the end of the corridor.

Opening the door, you were greeted with multiple cells. However, only one is occupied.

The teal haired boy was dressed up with a pair of trousers and a used-to-be white shirt. Leaning his back against the wall, he snapped his head to face you when he heard your approaching.

You studied his features, they were sharp and stunning. You have to admit the boy was good looking but that doesn’t change the fact that he is a merman. Even the most vulnerable ones are still dangerous and you wonder how dangerous he is under the terrified and weak façade.

“Why do you wish to go to the pink seaweed?”

“Em’ a pirate, why do you think em’ going there?”

V tilted his head to the side as if to think. He glanced down on his new-found legs before looking back up to you.

“But there isn’t any treasure there”

Your lips quirk up in amusement.

“Who said em’ looking for treasures there?” you chuckled as you laced your fingers behind your back.

“You pirates are mad”

“Well pup. None of this will happen if we weren’t”

You turned around to leave when he called you.

“Captain was it? Why did you visit me tonight?”

“Just securin’ de area”

“Oh”

You hummed before you turned back to face him, leaning in but keeping your distance, you tilted your head slightly to the side.

V looked at you, wondering what you need of him.

“What dya know about the golden goldfish?”

“The what?”

“Golden Goldfish”

“...Aren’t all goldfish golden?”

“Aren’t cha useless”

You shook your head, standing back up straight. You made a turn to leave once more but he called you again.

“The sea is full of mystery. You won’t survive”

You throw your head back and laughed. Looking back at him with a smirk, you didn’t care if he was dangerous, you shoved your hand between the bars and grabbed his chin, pulling him towards you.

“Darlin’, yer could kill me brizillion times and I would still be alive”

Letting him go, you walked away, shutting the door behind you as you left.

As you scribbled away in your journal, one of your crew had placed a plate of food on your desk. Glancing at the grilled fish, your eyes flicked towards the door.

“Did ya give the mermale food?”

“Only water, Capt”

“Get out”

“Yes Capt!”

You continued your work until you heard the door shut. You sighed as you leaned back on the chair. It’s been three days since he was caught.

He would probably be starving by now but if he’s the type to eat humans, you ain’t risking any of your crews. You took your plate before heading below deck, greeting the crews with a grunt before they bustled away with their own food.

Walking through the pantry and into the cell room, you stopped in front of the cell when you saw V holding the wall.

He was grunting as he moved his legs to walk but after a step he fell on the floor with a loud thud. He panted as he pushed himself up with his arms, dragging his legs to sit up.

Just as he turned around, he jumped when he saw you standing in front of his cell. You took off the key from your pockets and insert the key inside the key hole.

Turning the key around with a click, V widened his eyes as you stepped inside the cell. He pulled himself back, dragging his body away from you until his back hit the wall.

You scoffed in amusement as you kneeled down in front of him, holding his leg so he can’t go anywhere.

“W-what do you need of me?”

You could feel him trembling under you hand and you would be lying if you didn’t feel superior over it.

You put the plate on his lap, making him flinch.

“Eat”

You said as you took one of the carrots and pop it into your mouth. He stared at you as you chewed on the carrot.

“Eat the plants or yer fish frien’, I don’ care”

You nod at the plate and he hesitantly reached out for a carrot. He swallowed as he glanced at the food and then back at you.

“If yer thinkin’ of eatin’ me, forget it pup”

You stood up to leave but then he grabbed your arm. On instincts, you whip out your dagger and pointed it on his neck.

V froze as he stared at you, letting go of your arm.

“T-t-thank you”

You narrowed your eyes at him before standing up, keeping the dagger back in your pocket.

“Don’ grab me as you please, pup”

Turning around, you locked up the cell and left him alone.

To be continued in.... PART 2

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger imagines #kim jihyun #v #v x mc

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