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justxrandomxlivia · 2 years

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We won't let you fall again!

Masterlist

Summary: Your day started with oversleeping and ended with an Iraqi lieutenant and an American lieutenant holding your hands? Who would have thought that falling into an ancient temple you've been searching for months would change your entire life?

Warning Sign: Mention of weapons. That's all. No monsters in this story, just an ancient temple and two countries that hate each other.

Word count: 3910 o.O

AN: JASON AND SALIM! Two men I couldn't decide between. I know I'm not the only one, so here you get two wholesome men. I'm struggling with the idea to continue the story in a second chapter, or writing just a little more extended, more romantic/smut ending. I will see if you guys want me to or not ;)

“Ah it’s going to be colder today. Finally.” Mumbling with a sleepy voice, I rolled over in my bed. It’s not comfortable, but It’ll do. Slowly rising from my deep slumber, I realised that the sun was quite high already. “What time it is?!!” I yelled and jumped off the bed, checking my phone. “2 pm? You must be kidding. Why did nobody wake me?” I ran over to my stuff and got dressed quickly, then I left the bedroom. Meeting the owners of the house. “Good morning.” I said while hustling to get my shoes on. The oldest man laughed: “No morning. After noon.” I looked him, he pointed to the table, where was some coffee and bread on a plate. Letting my shoulders drop, I smiled at him. They are all so overly kind, if I would just be better in learning their language. I sighed and took my one shoe off again, then I sat down and thanked him. We are supposed to pay them 20$ the week. But my team and I decided to pay them 50$ per week each. What Is a lot of money for them. And for their kids. It’s never a bad thing to give more. After I was done with my little breakfast, I suddenly heard helicopters. Two I would say. I know the risks, Iraq and the USA are still on a warpath, but this area here should be fine. It’s quite isolated. There is a small town in the near, with some market for local farmers. Nothing to get for the US.

I got my plate cleaned and got back to the main door, taking my shoes on, grabbing my bag and left the house, just to found myself surrounded by soldiers. They were pointing machine guns at me and yelled at me. The helicopters were right above me, then flying into the distance a little bit. My legs got shaky, and I couldn’t say anything, I got on the ground and one man tied my arms, then he led me back into the house. He pushed me down next to few of the house owners. A couple of minutes passed before a woman, wearing sunglasses entered the room, behind her was a man: “Everything clear, ma’am. No violence needed either.” He’s American. From the south I would even say Deep, long, slow words, with an immense rolled sound, must be the south.

The woman kneeled next to the shepherds and talked to them one by one, in Arabic. They answered her one by one, and her face grew more and more annoyed. She then kneeled in front of me: “What about her? Doesn’t look Iraqi to me.” She said and the man briefed her: “She was about to leave the house, hat a bag with many notebooks and various archaeologic books. All English.” She nodded at his words and spoke. “Then I’m sure you understand me girl?” I shook my head and raised an eyebrow: “It’s called racism. Saying somebody doesn’t look like a certain nationality. Girl.” I huffed at her. Her eyes grew big and the man behind her, tried clearly not to laugh. She then looks at the man behind her, “You said books in her bag. A passport too?” he only shook his head in response. “My passport is in my pocket.” I told her and she stood up. “Check her lieutenant.” She told the man, and he put his gun aside, walking to me.

He then pulled me up and patted me down. As he found my passport he chuckled, “British.” He gave the passport to the women. “What’s your business with the house owners?” She asked. I looked her dead in the eyes. “I’m an archaeologist. My team and I stay here, because the location where we work is only couple of miles from here.” She sighed at my response. “This is a waste, those are just shepherds, the activity he was seen, must have been you then. What was Eric thinking. Untie her lieutenant. Sergeant, untie the shepherds.” She said waving at another man and left the room. - “Thanks.” I said as the man untied me.

“So, your name is y/n? That’s a pretty name for a pretty girl.” The lieutenant said as he walked me to the main door. “First, thanks, but second, I’m not a girl, I’m a 29 years old women.” – “Guess I messed up already. No date then?” he stopped and looked back at me. I giggled at him. “Well maybe, mister military, you can come visit me sometimes when I’m back home. But it’s quite a long way from the USA to London.” I gave him a light nudge at the shoulder, without a warning he came two or even three steps closer, looking into my eyes. “To visit a beautiful woman like you, there is no way to far.” He whispered at me. With that he opened the door and signed me to go through. I stepped outside and searched for a little card in my bag. “Here, Lieutenant. Call me.” I offered him a business card, with a big smile, he took it. “University of Oxford. My luck, by the way, It’s Jason. Have a nice day ma’am.” He said waving me off. I waved back and walked to my car.

As I just turned away from Jason, shots fired. “Fuck!” I yelled and jumped in cover of my car. Then all I could realise, was chaos. Shots, bombs, crashing helicopters, yelling and screaming people. I tried to get around the car to hide near the old stable buildings, when suddenly the floor collapsed. “y/n!” Jason yelled from my left as I looked at him, I felt how everything underneath is breaking apart. “NO!” I tried to jump away, but almost lost balance, when a strong hand gabbed my arm and pulled me back up. A man with an Iraq uniform pulled me up “Go this way!” he pointed to the mountains, I didn’t care who he was, he saved me and I started running again, just then. I fell again. And this time for good. Everything turned black.

As I opened my eyes, I felt a sharp pain in my whole body. I looked around and realised right away where I was. “Holy shit. Found it!” I jumped up, just to regret it right away, as my body felt like broken. Stretching and checking for any wounds, I was shocked how lucky I got. A few scratches and bruises. But nothing serious. Then I took my bag and checked for my camera. Still working, great. I took photos of the immense pillars, old statues and Jason. Wait, Jason? “JASON!?” I yelled. – “Y/n! Are you alright?” out of nowhere, Jason appeared and came right away to me. He checked me left, right, up and down. I tried to calm him down, but he seemed nervous. “Jason, I’m fine, really.” – “No, maybe you have some injuries we don’t see right away.” – “Jason, I’m serious!” I yelled at him and pulled him by the shoulders. “I’m just a little cold. But it’s alright.” I tried my best to convince him that I was fine. He let out a deep sigh, and eventually calmed down. “I don’t have anything to warm you up. I could hug you, but that wouldn’t last long.” He smiled at me concerned, but I nudged him at the shoulder, “Yeah yeah, you just want some physical contact. Let’s check if somebody needs help.” He nodded at me and followed me through the darkness.

After quite some time striving through the darkness and me taking pictures from almost everything. We heard a male voice from behind “Put that gun down and turn slowly around.” I didn’t hesitate and lifted my arms up and turned around. “It’s you!” I said, looking at the Iraq soldier who saved me the first time I was falling. He smiled relieved at me, and I took my arms down again “You saved me, thank you.” I said, but then I realised Jason had turned around, but he had his gun aimed tight. “Don’t do anything stupid, boy.” The man said to Jason. “I can say the same to you, old man.” Jason hissed back. I took a deep breath and moved slowly between the two guns. “No one is shooting anyone, if I am here. Please.” My words were trembling. Not sure if I would make it out alive of here. The Iraq soldier lowered his gun and put it back into the holster. “I don’t want to spill anymore blood.” He spoke slowly, approaching me carefully, “You look like you are cold.” He said and took his jacket off.

“Don’t you fucking go any step closer to her. Y/n, get behind me, now!” Jason yelled, slowly approaching me as well, just that he had his damn gun still aimed. “Jason, stop it.” I said, placing my hand on top of his gun, slowly pushing it down. “I trust him. He saved me, not even knowing who I am.” – “I don’t.” Jason cut me off. The man lifted his arms, in one hand holding his jacket. “I know who you are. Your name is y/n l/n. You are an archaeologist. My son, Zain, has been running around your research area, every day for the last two weeks. He talked about you a lot.” He spoke slowly handing his jacket over to me. I took it. “Thank you” I spoke quiet. “Yeah, I know Zain. He’s a smart boy. Wants me to take him back to England.” I giggled at him. “It’s his birthday today. My name is Salim.” He smiled at me. I can’t let Jason harm him. Technically seen, I know Salim. What am I supposed to tell his son. Sorry, your dad died, because he tried to give me his jacket. I shook my head, throwing the jacket over my shoulders, I looked at Jason once more. “Come on. He’s not the enemy.” Jason only looked at Salim, with distrust. Then Salim spoke to Jason, directly. “You want to get out of here, so do I. We must work together. Not shoot each other.”

Jason finally took the gun down. “I’ll keep an eye on you.” He said, pointing at Salim. I nudged Jason slightly against the shoulder. He will have bruise by the end of the day. Then we continued the way to find others. What felt like hours, were actually only a couple of minutes, but the fact that these two were arguing the whole time about military, racism, politics, terrorists and other stuff like lieutenant ranks, was killing every last nerve of me. As walked some ancient stairs up, I heard voices arguing. I pressed each of the two man a finger on the mouth, so they would finally shut up. Then pointed to the big door at the end of the stairs. Salim and Jason both, walked past me with aimed guns. I stayed behind and waited for a sign. It took too long for my taste, so I entered the room quietly and stood next to Salim. In the big room where machine guns, tables, radios, papers and more. It was the heart of this temple. An old archaeologist station. Just as I wanted to check the papers, Salim pulled me back. I looked at him and he looked at me, then around the room. As I followed his view, it was clear the situation was tense. Iraqi soldiers and Americans were with aimed guns standing against each other. Just Salim and Jason didn’t pick a side. “It’s a damn order Kolchek!” A blonde man yelled. “I don’t take orders 200 ft below the surface.” Was Jasons answer. What badass.

“Ehm, excuse me.” I spoke and walked a few steps in front of Jason and Salim. Both men grabbed me by my arms and wanted to pull me back. “I got this, don’t worry.” I spoke, they hesitated but let me go. I took around 3 steps more and spoke softly. “My name is y/n l/n. I’m an archaeologist. And a professor at the University of Oxford. I don’t have anything to do with both of your countries, and honestly not much knowledge about the current issues between you. But technically seen, you are on my research territory. I would really not like to call the local police, or clean your blood from ancient coins, so if you’d be so kind and do not fire a single bullet on MY ground. Would be so wonderful. Thank you.” I looked back and while Jason smiled amused, Salim was shaking his head. I ignored all military personal and made my way to the tables. 10 years of drama class is finally paying out, they have no idea I was terrified to the bones. One by one soldier eventually took their guns down and they made a hand sealed deal, to not shoot a bullet on or near my research territory.

It worked. Good job. As I checked the first papers, I realised, this is like heaven. I took more photos from everything. This time, again from Jason, but also from Salim. Both smiled at the camera. “Come on y/n. We have to get out of here for now.” Jason spoke as he followed the others. “What about all this then? This is the only reason I am in this country at all.” I asked frustrated. Jason chuckled, “You’ll come back. But now we need to go. It’s not safe.” I let out a sigh and started following them, as the most people left the sight, Salim, Jason and I were the last. They talked different this time, more like allies.

As we made it closer to the surface, I could see the sun finally again. It was warmer here than down back there. Different helicopters were heard, people yelling, dogs barking. They must be searching already. Ropes hang down and flashlights were blinding us. I tried to cover my eyes, what was not a good idea, so close next to an underground cliff. With a crack, the ground beneath me broke and I all felt was the heavy forces of gravity. “Y/n!” was the last thing I heard before the heavy impact on a sand pile.

First my back, then my face, then both hands and at last the back again. “Ouch, Fuck!” I cursed with an echo. As I opened my eyes, pain everywhere. Looking around and above, it was almost pitch black. I gave my bag to Jason earlier, so luckily my camera didn’t come down with me. But also, my flashlight was not with me. Slowly I tried to get used to the darkness and to see anything. I touched along the cliff where I have fallen from. I heard echoes, but it was inaudible, what means I’m either deaf or I’m very deep. Following the cliff to the right, it ended in water. With wet shoes, I turned around and walked to the left. My hands along the ice-cold stone, they slowly froze. Luckily, I have Salim’s jacket, my arms would be more bruised. I continued walking along the cliff as I felt that the ground got higher. I might could climb out of here. If the others think I’m dead? Trying to shake that thought away, I pushed myself the higher grounds up and felt how the light slowly came back to me. It seems my eyes were partially blind due to the fall. So, I might have not fallen that deep.

It feels like hours as I finally reached an open area where lights came from ahead. Still far away. To my bad, I started freezing again. This time, it felt more like I was freezing because I was alone. I sat down to the cold ground. “Why does every time go everything wrong. And why does nobody care for me.” I muffled beneath my breath and closed my eyes. “You really thought we wouldn’t care?” A southern accent ripped me out of my thoughts, I opened my eyes and saw Jason above me. “She’s here!” He yelled across the area; it echoed in the entire cave. Jason smiled at me and began stroking my face. Then Salim came from behind him. His face was a mess, a mix of horror, fear, worries, but happiness. “What are you doing here?” I whispered, not believing if I might hallucinate. Salim looked confused and Jason chuckled, then said: “What do you mean? We- ” Salim interrupted him: “We came for you.” At his words, my eyes started tearing up, but my mind was a mess of emotions, incapable to say anything.

Jason helped me up, then he lifted me on Salim’s back. “I’ll be behind you, so you can’t fall off.” Jason spoke softly, rubbing my back. Salim turned his head a little, “We won’t let you fall ever again. I promise.” He whispered to me. As they started climbing towards the surface I started to cry silently. How do I deserve them. My life was all the opposite of support, care and understanding. But these two give me the feeling I’m worthy to be alive. As if they really care. I just met them hours ago, but I have the unbelievable urge, to never let go of them. I wanted to thank them, but no word left my mouth. “We’ll be taking you to a hospital.” Jason said from behind us. I shook my head heavy. “No… They’ll maybe… send me home.” It was so exhausted. Salim spoke a little louder now, “But you need to rest Habibti. No arguing.” – “What you said?” I heard that word before, what I wasn’t sure what it meant. Salim chuckled, “It means ‘my love’.” He called me his love? Was he thinking the same about me as I was thinking about him? Or is this standard kindness in Iraq. Anyway, he was right. I feel more and more like I’m fainting; my body hurts bad. But I know I didn’t break any bones.

After a while, we finally reached the exit to the surface. Salim let me down slowly, Jason helped, so I won’t fall. “I’m alright. You can stop pretending that every bone of mine is broken.” My voice was angry. I was a little frustrated, they acted as if I have been a small child. Jason took my chin in one hand and whispered. “We will not let go of you anymore, next time you fall, you might break your neck.” He was right, but still. A little less overprotection please. “Let’s get her out of here.” Salim tied a climbing rope around me, from above two people were standing. “Pull her up guys.” Jason yelled above. Then Jason and Salim started climbing themselves. “You know, I grew up in caves, temples, pyramids and castles. I know how to climb.” I crossed my hands in front of my chest and puffed my checks in protest, as they pulled me up slowly. “Y/n stop arguing. You have fallen very deep, you might pass out, let go of the rope and fall again.” Salim spoke concerned. “I promise you, once we made sure you are on solid ground and doctors gives their ok. You are free to do whatever you like.” He said, Jason cut him off. “Except going down here again. First this must secure. I guess the local police will do that?” I nodded at him. “Yes, they usually do. First, I just want to take a shower and then sleep.” Both men laughed and agreed.

Reaching the surface, the sun almost blinded me, then my heart stopped beating. The shepherd’s hut was in bad condition. Parts have fallen into the ground; few smaller buildings were destroyed from bombs and bullets. “The poor people. Their homes. This must have been the worst day of their life.” I sighed and sat on the ground to take in the information, my eyes gave me. Jason stood beside me and laid his hand on my head. “Sorry about that. We will find you another place to stay.” – “No.” I said, “I will of course stay here and help them where I can, just as my team will do, probably.” Then Salim kneeled next to me and laid a hand on my shoulder. “For now, the police have to secure the area.” He spoke softly. “You should come with me. To rest.” His warm smile was so beautiful. I look him in the eyes, ready to speak as Jason’s huffed so loud, few people around us were suddenly looking at him. I looked at him worried and saw how he frowned. “To your place? Yeah, sure.” He shook his head and turned to leave. Salim stood up, “I hoped you’d come with us as well, or maybe join us later, when you get a free from your duty.” As Salim spoke, Jason stopped.

“As if you would want me there. You want to have y/n all for yourself. I’m not blind!” he spoke loud and angry. But also, sad. He didn’t even turn around to face us directly. I got up from the ground and wanted to walk to him, but Salim stopped me. “And I am not blind either. I see how much you care. Just as I do. And I know, you and I care for each other, just as we did, when we worked together to get her back.” Salim was so calm, I doubt I could ever be mad at him, and it seems Jason thought the same. He turned around, his face eventually softer. But before he could speak, I took Salim’s hand and reached out for Jason as well. “How about that date we talked earlier, Marine. I think I owe you two some nice dinner? For getting me out there.” Jason smiled at my offer and took my hand. “Alright, alright, you got me all wrapped around your finger. So, where’s your place? I think I can’t join right away, but I’ll be there for dinner then.” His voice was finally as it was when we met earlier. Not that tense, not worried, just Jason. Salim chuckled and wrote a little note for Jason. He hugged me tight, before he had to return to his team.

Salim and I started walking to my car. “What a miracle that piece of junk didn’t went diving.” I said honestly surprised. Salim and I laughed at my really bad joke and got in the car. He drove, first to my research place, to inform the others about what happened. “They won’t believe it.” I sighed. “Not until they come back to the hut and see with their own eyes.” Salim said and gave me an assuring pat on my shoulder. I nodded, “Yeah, and I can’t wait to put my legs up, everything is sore.” I sighed again. He chuckled and brushed over my arm, “first, you need to take a shower. I will not let you get in my bed or couch that dirty.” I laughed and took his hand in mine. Holding hands, we made our way. I can’t wait to see Jason again. How can you fall for two people. I guess it’s because I have a very big heart. Maybe? Polyamorous it’s called. I’m not sure what future will hold, but I’m thankful for the moments I will have with the two. Every single second.

So what do you think? Second chapter? Or should i just extend the ending a bit? Or is it fine that way? Please let me know ^^

-Livana

#house of ashes #salim othman #jason kolchek #jason x salim #jason x salim x reader #jalim #jalim x reader #fem!reader #the dark pictures house of ashes #salim x reader #jason x reader

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saintblk · 7 months

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the first time you suck kaldur’ahm’s dick you drain him of all the tension in his body. he’s fuckin putty when you finish, but that doesn’t stop him from fucking your face until he nuts again🥰

#꒰ slim’s thots ꒱#꒰ kaldur + salim ꒱#i want him so bad #kaldur x reader #can you tell?#is it obvious?

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fortune-fool02 · 2 years

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Messy hair Salim, anyone?

(Pictures not mine)

#salim #salim othman #salim othman x reader #house of ashes #the dark pictures house of ashes #the dark pictures #the dark picture anthology #jalim

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nine-of-words · 11 months

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(Naga + Four of Swords)

M Naga x Demisexual M Elf Reader

Wordcount: 6004

Content Warnings: Old Injury/Chronic Pain, Scars, Religious Themes/Trauma, Cloacal Sex (Reader Tops); As a baseline, all Drakkith have both sets of reproductive organs and are typically bigender. Sometimes individuals choose to identify as solely one gender, as is the case with Salim in this story.

This one ran a little long, and personally I blame inherited catholic guilt.

Rain again today.

A loathsome drizzle.

You watch it patter down from your post by the door to the grand hall, the water pooling on the autumn leaf litter you haven’t had a chance to rake in days. You rub out your aching, fussy shoulder.

"My, it's really coming down out there. No end in sight.” Mother Abbess appears at your side and clicks her tongue, as if chiding the weather might make it stop. “And the station broadcast said because of the magical nature of this cold front, that it’ll carry on like this for several weeks. Weeks! Can you believe it, Ser?”

"Hmmh." You grunt in acknowledgement, not really feeling the desire to socialize; the burning ache from your shoulder to the fingertips on your casting hand- your former casting hand- is more than enough to turn you off from pleasant conversation. The rain only makes the aching and the stiffness worse.

"Perhaps it'd be smart to prepare some of the extra beds, just to be safe?" She says thoughtfully, in her usual cheery, warm tone. "Any travelers unfortunate enough to be caught on the road now will want to shelter here until this awful downpour finally stops."

You came to this temple to recover from the injury that took you out of service. Once a knight-sorcerer, you’re now, technically speaking, only a knight, and a very underworked one, at that.

You used to be able to help people. Now you are another glorified doorstop, guarding a sleepy temple that not a single beast nor bandit has dared to touch in the time you’ve been here. They seem to be repelled from the place, regardless of your presence.

The longer you’re here, the more you realize your recuperation time seems to not have an end. You come to suspect that you’ve been left here to rot.

You let out a long, withering sigh. You’re still far too young to have been politely yet forcibly retired in everything but name- shoved in a corner to collect dust. But while you crave the bloodrush of combat, you know that realistically, you would not be able to hold up the way you are now.

Evening meal time rolls around, the chattering of the young initiate priestesses carrying over even to the end of the long table where you solemnly eat.

“No, that’s impossible. You’re just making things up for attention-”

“I’m telling you, it’s haunted!”

Then Mother Abbess joins the table, interest sharply piqued.

“What’s this silly business I hear about ghosts in the temple? You know, our good knight goes to great lengths to make sure the temple is safe for all of us.” The older woman turns her attention to you with a playful smile; what you now know is her way of trying to rope you into joining in on the conversation, like a mother trying to goad her shy child into speaking up. “Have you seen any ghouls or spectres on your patrols lately, Ser?”

“Not one.” You shake your head, then continue to chew in silence.

“See ladies, there’s nothing to worry about!”

“No Mother, not the temple- the crypt. It’s coming from inside the tomb! We heard it!!”

“Hilde and I went to refresh the altar for the dead, like you asked, but- oh, the sounds! Banging, scraping, groaning like pain! It was far too terrifying. We ran back before we could even think of finishing.”

“Well, that’s no good. This certainly isn’t the time of year to slack on honoring the dead, either.” She taps her chin in thought with the hand not holding her spoon. “Ser, do you think you might be able to go check the crypt after supper? So we might have some peace of mind.”

Obedient as always, after you’ve eaten, you re-don your armor just in case, and slog out into the rain and water-logged mud, towards the temple for your obligatory ghost hunt.

You’re not going to find any ghosts, you’re sure. At most, perhaps a weak, trapped lesser spirit that can’t even communicate properly- but even that seems unlikely. At least the younger residents of the temple will be able to sleep soundly at night; that is enough of a reason for you.

The main door hangs ajar, left to creak as the wind moves it back and forth.

You click your tongue. The young sisters must’ve fled in such a hurry they left the door open. Still, you steel yourself and sharpen your senses despite the lack of obvious threat, just as your training has taught you.

You light the lamp and kick the excess mud from your boots before you descend the stone stairs into the darkness. You’ll take a look around, then you’ll be back up to the dry warmth of your bed, trying to sleep through the dull pain in your arm.

Inside, the crypt is dark, damp, and smells of old incense and lamp oil. The only thing that lives here is spiders and mold, surely. But the echo of your footsteps and the haunted atmosphere makes you feel starkly like you’re not alone here.

But in your search, you find nothing amiss. You only find the silence of the dead. Whatever was here must be long gon-

A noise in the silence, like a pained voice.

Was that a groan?

The hairs on your neck stand on end, your pupils constrict, sweat beads on your forehead. Your heart starts racing, gripped by a cold fist of terror.

Your good hand flies to the hilt of your sword.

“REVEAL YOURSELF!” You boom into the supposedly empty crypt, projected voice reverberating off the stone walls.

You are an extensively trained, battle hardened knight. Few things can shake you.

But perhaps you were wrong to doubt the young priestesses, this time-

The cold-burning torches in the chamber seem to flicker all at once.

Stone grinds on stone. The lid of a nearby sarcophagus moves in front of your eyes.

Your hand clutches the gas lamp, feeling your knuckles go white under your gauntlet, watching the stone lid continue to move back. You expect to see some spectral or skeletal hand rise from the gap, someone long dead disturbed from their eternal slumber.

You half-pull your sword from its sheath, ready to deliver this revenant to its second death as soon as the rest of your body breaks out of your fear induced paralysis.

Instead of a translucent or rotting set of digits, though, a slender, intact and solid olive-skinned hand reaches out, grasping aimlessly, followed by the other one.

“What in the Lady’s name-” You sputter, trying to make sense of the seemingly living person currently inhabiting the tomb.

With a pained groan, the rest of their body rises out of the dusty sarcophagus. They’re wobbling fiercely, barely able to support their own weight, but you get a good look at them.

Smooth, cinderous dark brown hair. Sleepy, heavily lashed, almond shaped eyes. Expensive looking clothing far too thin and flimsy for proper insulation needed for the beginning of the wet, cold autumn in the Rowenian wilds.

…And the bottom half of a serpent? Specifically, scales of a vibrant gradient of variated oranges and yellows, with splotchy black stripes running horizontally down, from trunk to tail.

You know people like this exist, but you’ve never interacted with one in person, even in your travels during active duty. A type of the dragon-people. Naga, if you recall correctly.

“What in the blazes are you doing in this crypt, serpent?”

“Pleassssse-” Their voice trails off weakly, slurring and nearly incoherent, grabbing at you in desperation. “Heeeelp.”

Desire to help those in need wins out over your own hesitance and shock and perhaps small bias, and you reach out the arm that they seem to be gravitating towards, despite it being your bad one. Their skin is cold as ice where they hold onto your neck for balance, their thin clothing still damp and clinging to them.

They immediately collapse against your body, laying their face on your shoulder. You can’t help but think that the weight feels good against your plate. When was the last time you were touched like this…?

You can’t remember.

You quickly shake the thought away. There are more pressing matters.

You help them back to the temple, through the soggy ground. Mother Abbess and the rest of the priestesses still milling about after supper are surprised to say the least, and you set the stranger to rest in front of the main fireplace in the dining hall, hopefully sufficiently fulfilling their request for heat.

After Mother Abbess has shooed away the rest of the prying eyes and only you, her and the new visitor remain, she addresses them.

“Let me fetch you some hot broth and some blankets, dear. That will help you warm up while we have a chat.”

You watch the naga closely, arms crossed and feet planted, while Mother Abbess goes to retrieve some broth from the kitchens. Given the naga’s incapacitated state, you doubt they could be a threat right now even if they tried, but you are trained to be ready for one, regardless.

After a few minutes, they shudder and stretch out their limbs, seeming to come back to life a bit. They turn their head to look at you, the sharp lines of their features backlit by the fire.

“Here you are, dear.” She hands them the wooden bowl full of heated broth.

“Thaaaank youuuu.”

A long, slender black tongue creeps out from between their lips and dips into the liquid, sampling it with a gentle flutter.

Seemingly finding it to their liking, they retract their tongue and start to sip from the edge of the bowl like a civilized person.

Then they smile at you, as if to silently address the fact that you’re staring, making your face flush in uncharacteristic bashfulness. Prickly heat creeps up the back of your neck- from standing so close to the fireplace in plate armor and nothing else, you’re sure.

“My name issss… Sssssalim. I am a man… and a healer by trade.” He manages to speak slowly, his voice gradually losing the harsh hissing noise and settling into a more subtle, faint accent as he pulls himself together. “Thank you for the… assisssstance…”

Mother Abbess gives him a brief introduction to the temple, herself, and even you, much to your chagrin.

“However did you come to be inside our temple’s crypt, Salim?”

“I had paid a merchant to transssport me through the mountains, for a job placement from the order I have waiting in the city. But during a break for the oxen… I spotted some mushrooms that are an essential ingredient for a rare curative balm, so I went off to collect them… The merchant seemed to have left me behind during that time,” He recounts the story, surprisingly even-tempered while recalling it when he’s described essentially what amounts to paying someone to leave you to die in the woods. “I wandered for what must have been days, it started raining… it didn’t stop raining… then I saw the stone marker for the temple… it seems as if I took the wrong door in, but by then I was too dazzzed by the cold to find my way out… but I got here all the same.”

He lets out a hiss of a laugh at his own folly, a sound you can’t help but find downright charming.

…Charming? What’s gotten into you this evening?

“Oh, what an unfortunate experience you’ve had! Good thing we prepared those spare beds in the guest dormitory earlier.” Mother Abbess beams, placing a wrinkled hand on her sternum. “The good knight will show you where you can sleep, Salim. You’re free to stay here as long as you need.”

He thanks her profusely for the hospitality, and then they indulge in a bit of idle chatter which quite honestly, you could do without. Once he seems to have recovered enough to move around, you escort him to the guest dormitory.

“You will sleep here.” You say curtly as you direct him to one of the made-up bunks closest to the small hearth in the guest hall you stoked earlier. Then, before you can even second guess why you’re saying it, add; “Do not even consider sneaking into the sisters' dormitory, or I will not hesitate to cut you down.”

“Ah, that won’t be a problem- if you’re implying what I think you are.” They say in the most polite manner possible for such an unprompted accusation. Their black tongue flickers in consideration, seeming to taste the air like any other snake’s would. “Even if I had nefarious intentions… There’s nothing that suits my particular interests to be found there…”

“Right.” You say, then think to yourself; Perhaps he only finds others of his kind suitable as potential mates.

…Good.

Over the next few days, Salim seems to begin to make himself right at home at the temple. He enjoys spending time in the library and chatting with the sisters in the dining hall, while you prefer to spend your time as far away as you can while still keeping a watchful, distrustful eye on him.

…Only for the sake of security, of course.

Despite him claiming he has no interest in them, the young priestesses are all a bit too interested in him for your liking. Instead of their usual chatter when not doing their duties, they’ve started gathering to listen to stories about his travels with the rapt attention a child would give a shiny new toy, or a schoolgirl would dote on their first crush.

If you thought that Mother Abbess trying to force you to socialize was bad before, you now know the strife of having to endure conversations with Salim, as well. It’s nearly every time he lays eyes on you, it feels like, with the curious looks and the incessant questions.

His presence in the temple makes you feel… strange.

Wrong, somehow. A benign sort of malaise.

You try to bury it, and just go about your normal routine.

Mother Abbess has the bright idea to enlist Salim into doing health check-ups while he’s here, which he readily agrees to do as gratitude for the aid he’s already received. Over the next few days, everyone has had their turn having a physical, while you have been conveniently busy every time that you might be called to have yours done.

But as the rain continues to pour without signs of relenting, and the surrounding wilderness grows saturated and flooded, the aches and pains are only getting worse and worse, harder to ignore by the day. It hadn’t interfered with your duties yet, but one day, you finally slip up. The Mother Abbess finds you struggling to collect the stack of dry firewood you’ve dropped across the stone floor of the main hall, then proceeds to tear into you in her characteristic, most loving of ways.

"-And don’t think I haven’t noticed you’re avoiding having your physical. But you need to have your injury looked at, at least! It has been causing you pain; I see you struggling with it, even if you hide it well, Ser." Mother Abbess scolds you after helping you to pick up the logs, complete with finger wagging. "We finally have a healer in the temple again after old Mother Alys passed, so stop being so stubborn and make use of his services while he's here! He may only be here until the rain lets up, as far as we know- and then you’ll have lost the opportunity completely. You will go, if I have to see you there myself!"

“Yes, Mother.” You grumble out your reluctant agreement. As much as you wish it wasn't true in this case, she rarely guides you wrong. “Escorting me will not be necessary. I will go of my own accord.”

"It would not hurt you to make a friend, either.” She adds, emotionally kicking you in the ribs while you’re down. “There is nothing in the scripture forbidding having a friend."

Obedient as you are, you force yourself to pay him a visit in the quiet, mostly unused infirmary. You part the privacy curtain, walls drawn up and ready to get through this experience- but instead you’re met with a precious sight.

Salim seems to have fallen asleep in the padded chair in the corner of the room near the hearth, serpentine lower body coiled up around himself, a book propped in the dip between layers of scaled tail.

He finally seems to wake. Warm toned eyes blink open, their pupils constricting into lines as they take you in.

“Oh, why hello. My last patient finally arrives…” Salim yawns and rubs at one eye. “It was so quiet and serene back here, and the fire so pleasant- It seems I couldn't help but doze off…”

He rises lithely and arches his back like a cat waking up from a good nap in a sunny spot. The book on his chest slides down his body, seemingly forgotten.

Reflexes sharp as ever, your hand snaps out to catch the book before it falls. You don’t need to read the title to recognize it, but you skim it anyway.

Lady Night’s Good Knight, and Other Courtly Tales

You’re very familiar with this book- it’s a collection of old knight’s tales, simple parables that are intended to be bedtime stories for children. What is he doing reading this, of all things? You would assume a healer as erudite as he’s shown himself to be would be reading one of the numerous dusty old historical manuscripts or books cataloging flora and fauna of the area.

“Oh! Have you read this book before?” He gestures to the tome you’re now pondering in your hands. “I found it in the library and was far too intrigued to pass it over.”

“Back when I was a boy and not once since.”

“The tales inside are quaint, but enjoyable. I had never given knighthood much thought before coming here, but I admit I’m quite intrigued by the idea now. …Back home, there are no knights. Or I suppose everyone who is physically able is a knight, in some regard- it depends on how strictly one considers the definition of chivalry.”

“A kingdom full of knights sounds like a blasted nightmare.” You find yourself speaking far too candidly before you can stop, remembering what your more active days in the order were like. “That’s a recipe for far too many pissing contests for my liking. Everyone wants to ride in and play hero, and not a soul can fill out a single page of paperwork.”

“Healers never want to do their paperwork either.” Salim’s face lights up in amusement, a soft hissing laugh escaping his lips. You experience a short moment of pride that you’ve made him laugh, followed by that strange feeling- some mix of joy and terror and confusion filling you once again.

Suddenly a ball of nerves forms in your stomach, realizing you’re about to let him touch you.

“Let us get this over with quickly,” You gripe, setting the book on the end table and taking a seat in the chair across from him. “I still have duties to see to before night falls.”

“Of course.” He says politely, and efficiently prepares what he needs to get down to business.

It’s a needlessly vexing experience; being poked and prodded, performing tricks on command like a well-trained hound, with Salim uttering the occasional hum that may be a good hum or a bad hum, for all you know- And the invasive sensation of his hand on your chest to auscultate your heartbeat and breathing has your skin prickling under your collar.

“My, are you a wonderful specimen. Steady heartbeat, clear lungs, good color to your gums.” Salim praises you after he’s finished examining your general health with the medical kit still left over from the old healer. He now motions for you to undo your shirt. “You are an exceptionally healthy man. Barring this one glaring area, it would seem. Let us take a look…”

You hesitate, but you relent and untie your loose, simple linen shirt just enough to slip your arm out of the sleeve. One hand gently slinks up the back of your firm upper arm, the other holding your elbow.

It’s a dreadful, ugly thing, your bad arm. Discolored and shiny from the healed burn from your fingertips all the way to your clavicle. To make things somehow more ghastly, the veins on your arm are ruddy black and fully visible from where the overloaded mana scorched through your blood.

"And your magic is fire." He says, a statement, not a question, as he manipulates your arm to inspect the way your scarring behaves. "Mine, as well."

You can already tell his alignment is fire; if not clear from the familiar hum within you in acknowledgement, it is clear from the pleasant smell of recently extinguished candle that seems to always permeate his general vicinity.

"It was. Why does it matter?"

"The raw power still radiating from this…" The way he looks at your arm feels almost reverent, his eyes glimmering. "You would have been quite the sight to behold, were you not? Before all of this damage."

“Does this endless prattle have a meaning?” You say, your nerves forever raw when it comes to this subject. “What are you seeking?”

"I simply thought since we share the same mana alignment, that you'd enjoy speaking about it. And that we could perhaps come to know each other better…" He hopefully looks up his brow at you, still holding your arm aloft in his elegant hands as he inspects you like some piece of meat for slaughter.

You grit your teeth, pulling your scarred limb away.

“My magic was a gift from the Lady. Now, it is gone- Revoked. Of course I don’t want to dwell on that fact. What more is there for me to say about it?”

"...I apologize if I have caused any negative feelings to resurge. I only wished to propose… a mutually beneficial arrangement between us. We could be of great assistance to one another, even share some comfort-"

"I don't want or need your comfort," You snap, pulling your shirt sleeve back on, confusion at your own feelings bubbling up into anger. "Unless it's bloody healing. Can you help with this pain or not?"

"I am capable, and the solution is related. Being a sorcerer, your mana is continuing to generate internally- perhaps moreso than normal to overcompensate for the weather. However, the damage to your arm is preventing the natural release of that unused accumulation, also due to the weather. Due to the age of your injury, I'm sure you already are familiar with the treatment for this particular predicament; Siphoning.” Salim pauses, waiting until he sees your nod in understanding before continuing. “…While my own mana stores have not fully recovered from my jaunt through the woods, not in such damp conditions as these. So, I could take this excess from you, through touch… If that was a prospect you found appealing…"

“I do not.” You say, standing to depart so abruptly that the chair scrapes the stone loudly. “I will wait this out, just as I always do.”

“I do not think that is very wise...” Salim says grimly. You see concern etched in his features.. “But I would never force a patient to accept treatment.”

You don't want to think of it. Nor do you want to think about why your heart starts racing when you are close to him, or why your eyes always seem to catch on the sheen of his scales like they do on a well polished blade, or why the simple act of a gentle examination of your weakest part feels so good, so right, when he was the one doing it.

Giving up the chance to have a wife or a family never felt much like a loss when you were first training to be a knight. You had never felt much desire for one or the other, either way. But now… you finally feel this carnal sort of desire… and it’s for some monstrous serpentine abomination.

Another test of your virtue? Fine. You won’t give in.

Cold, wet days pass into cold, wet nights. Tonight you lie in your bed awake, overheating from the inside out, the blazing heat radiating from your arm. Your good hand clutches at your shoulder, knuckles white from the grip as your writhe, blankets fully kicked off and biting a spare scrap of leather to keep from waking the whole temple with your screams.

This is certainly the worst flare up you've ever had, the old scar burning nearly as terribly as it did the day the explosion happened, when a magical attack overloaded your system and destroyed the ability for your own mana to properly cycle through your body. A broken circuit.

Typically flare ups only happen around excess of the corresponding element. But in such oversaturated conditions of the opposing element- in your case, the water in all this blasted rain- what remains of your mana becomes volatile, trying to overcompensate for your surroundings with nowhere to naturally leech off to.

But you are strong. You can weather this pain, like you have time and time before…

It just needs to pass already.

So close to the brink of being driven to complete madness by the torment, you almost fail to notice the door to your chambers slowly creaking open. The only light filtering in is from the window, as you've left your hearth unlit to avoid making your pain worse. But even in the low light, you can recognize those undulating movements anywhere now.

"...I can feel the energy cresting all the way from my bunk," Salim's soft, worried voice says from the shadows- as if it was ever going to be someone else, slithering into your private chambers in the dead of night. "Please… allow me to help you."

"Fine! Fine. Do what you will to me, serpent," You growl, barely snarling back tears as the leather strap falls from your gritted teeth. "Just make it stop."

You expect maybe for him to come to your bedside and lay his hands on your arm from there, but instead you feel the weight of Salim slithering into your bed beside you.

He entangles your arm with his upper body, pulling your hand towards his face to gently cup his cheek, your forearm tight against his body in its bent position. Every part of his exposed skin that he can feasibly manipulate into touching yours finds its way there; arms, hands, chest. Even his long tail winds itself around one of your legs.

Normally being pinned by another person’s weight like this might cause you to want to escape from the claustrophobic feeling, but it doesn’t seem to appear this time, only a strange sense of security after all the thrashing in pain you’ve been doing this evening. You find a comfort in it that you didn’t know you could crave.

The heat in your arm continues to grow, but it flows with purpose now. The molten energy flees your body, in favor of migrating into the naga’s body instead.

Sweeping tingles run over the surface of your skin in waves, wherever it has contact with his. The sensation is so overwhelming, almost like the ground falling out from below you, despite laying securely on a bed, but with an added layer of temperature fluctuating wildly.

Then… Relief. Finally, some modicum of relief.

This is what your sword must’ve felt when the blacksmith pulled it out of the forge, you hazily decide.

You're nearly euphoric in the simple absence of the white-hot needles jabbing into your flesh from the inside. It might as well be ecstasy, compared to what you’ve been enduring.

Thank the Lady- you think to yourself, before correcting yourself mentally. No, she gets sufficient enough praise the rest of the time. This time, it is 'thank Salim'.

You barely have the sense to care that that’s probably blasphemy, blinking the rims of your eyelids dry. Your heaving breaths finally start to even out into their normal, resting rate of rise and fall.

Finally in a calm, bearable state, you become acutely aware that you're now left in this close, pointedly intimate embrace with him. Shining starkly in the darkness, his irises have started to glow in a saturated vermillion hue, no doubt from the copious amount of magical energy he’s just taken in.

"This should suffice," Salim finally says, sounding sleep-drunk from all of the warmth of the mana he’s absorbed. He seems hesitant to actually let your arm go and depart, still holding your hand to his face, fingers weaved in yours. "I can leave now, if you wish."

"I do not wish for you to go." You admit, taking nearly all of your strength to keep your voice from shaking in fear of what that means.

"Oh?" He traces the fingers on his free hand down the inside of your forearm. How pleasing that simple pressure feels on the parts of your body usually used to the weight of heavy armor- which is most of it.

The feeling of the smooth, bare skin of his chest on your arm is just too enticing to let go, and your resolve crumbles.

The temptation is finally too much, and you're overtaken by the desire that's been gnawing at you despite your attempts to quash it.

You seize him at the back of the neck, pressing your mouth to his.

Salim seems shocked into stillness for a moment, before he relaxes in your grip, moaning his approval into your open, greedily searching mouth, and grasping the back of your own head with his hand. His fingers immediately catch in your hair, the sensation sending a flash of pleasure over your over-sensitive nerve endings.

That long tongue you've thought about so much over the last several days glides across yours, winding around your own like his long serpentine tail is wound up between your legs, coiling around you.

Your free hand searches his side, grabbing anywhere you can find purchase. You want to take in everything; the sensation of soft skin that you know, though starved of, but also the new, enthralling sensation of hard reptilian plate underneath your fingers. It's smooth and rigid, yet still malleable as his dense muscles move underneath.

You trace every crevice and crest you can reach where scale meets plate meets skin, investigating all the differences in texture. His body is positively drenched in warmth now- your warmth- and hot to the touch underneath your hands.

The solid feeling of Salim's tail between your legs feels dangerously good. You find yourself grinding against him to meet the rolling movements of his hips, already this close but desperately wanting to be closer, somehow.

You don't have to see it to know the thin linen sleeping trousers you wear to bed are not concealing anything at this point. The fabric is pulled taut against your arousal, barely even forming a barrier between the smooth plates of Salim's underbelly.

You barely feel any shame now, brazenly rubbing your hard cock against him. It simply feels too good to be embarrassed about at this point.

"This isn't a result of mana," Salim rasps in a moment taken to breathe, lips still hovering over yours. You can feel his dexterous fingers fiddle with the laces, and his tongue flicking at your neck. "But I can treat this heat as well…"

"Please," You growl.

Salim quickly loosens the laces just enough to push the fabric down as much as he'll need to, every minute trace of contact stoking your desperate need.

The darkness doesn't deter him all. His darkvision clearly must be better than yours- making lining up the wet, soft crevice between his belly scales with your waiting member trivially easy.

You can barely contain your excitement as your throbbing cock catches on the edge of his slick vent. The only thing you've felt before has been your own hand, in the times when you've needed release. You need to know how being squeezed inside him feels.

Salim doesn’t even extract himself from the coiled embrace he has you in, nor shift his weight. Once he is sure he's got the tip lined up where it needs to be, he simply starts pressing his hips flush to yours, taking you in.

A low, incomprehensible noise of approval escapes him as presses himself forward, all the way to the hilt. His fingertips grip at your chest while your own seek purchase in the dips of his hips.

Your jaw clenches involuntarily. He's hot, almost unbearably so. You knew he would be, but you weren't ready for the sensation of being enveloped by such sweltering, magically augmented heat.

If the siphoning felt like your sword being pulled from the forge, this is being plunged back into it.

Your lack of experience doesn’t seem to matter anywhere near what you thought it would, not with Salim doing most of the hip movements. You thrust forward as much as being on your side and wound up by him allows, not content to be completely idle.

You're not going to last long like this, but you’ve got to try.

The writhing continues, locked in a slightly damp, molten knot of limbs and starved kisses, until you’re clenching every muscle just to let it continue a bit longer. The grip of Salim’s tail only gets tighter and tighter, until it culminates with a series of forceful contractions around every part he has you captive. That does you in, your own pelvic muscles violently tightening as Salim’s hole saps you of everything you have to give.

Afterwards, Salim doesn’t say anything, but the ragged breathing into your neck is just as good as any words he could say, anyway.

You lie there, skin still tingling all over with heat and a burn deep in your muscles- a pleasant kind in comparison. Eventually you drift off in the darkness, still holding a firm grip on the serpentine body entangled with you about the hips.

You sleep like the dead.

When you wake in the morning you feel revitalized, like you're a new man.

It doesn’t take you long to notice your visitor from last night is nowhere to be seen. You briefly consider if it was all a lewd, feverish, hallucinatory dream…

Only it couldn't have been a dream- your arm is nearly devoid of pain as you clench a fist and flex your muscles, and you can still hear the rain pattering against your chambers' window.

Just as a small twinge of panic starts to set in, you hear someone slip into your chambers.

It’s exactly who you expect it to be, and he’s carrying what looks like two servings of warm breakfast on a tray. When your eyes meet, his mouth curls into an enigmatic smile.

“Good morning.”

“There was no need to coddle me like this.” You protest, sitting up in bed as he sets the tray down on your desk and takes a seat on the paired wooden stool. “I’m perfectly capable of making it to the dining hall.”

"You are sorely in need of time to recover… I've told the Mother that you are to do nothing but rest today."

"And I'm sure she found that terribly agreeable." You say, running your hand down your face in frustration. She's constantly chiding you to take more breaks as it is, and now she has reinforcements.

"Of course she did. Healer's orders," Salim says very seriously, though the glimmer in his eyes is clearly playful. "Though perhaps, depending on how you're feeling now… you may require additional treatment..."

Despite the exasperation, you can’t stop the twitch of a smile on your lips.

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI

#exophilia #monster romance #monster lover #monster x reader #naga #naga x reader #male monster #male reader #elf reader #knight reader #mlm #mxm #oc: salim #oc: ser benoit #tarot oneshots #nine of words

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nikolasartist · 3 months

Text

Я намагаюся просувати свій фанфік якомога більше, пха.

The last sun before we die (Jaison Kolchek/Mreader; Salim Othman/Mreader)

- Will you eat it? The unidentified man calmly, without a hint of hostility, handed the surprised Iraqi a cereal bar and began to eat his own. It all looked so damned unreal, so much so that the Iranian soldier nervously burst out laughing as he continued to eat. - Why? - the foreigner suddenly asked the pilot in English. - Believe me, starving to death is the worst thing you can do in the end. Damn, the monsters make me hungry.

Tick-tock.

Even the most resilient of people would go crazy from the heat, losing some measure of sanity under the scorching rays for a while. You lose a complete understanding of work, its meaning, and question whether want to do it to the best of ability. Or is it better to quit, saving your own skin and comfort. The small amount of fluid in the body was now more annoying than supporting the system of the tired body, unpleasantly making the T-shirt stick tightly to the wet curves of the body.

Tick-tock.

It's endless. A vicious circle that seems to go on forever, driving you crazy about the most ordinary things. The ticking of the wristwatch on left hand not only pushes him to smash it against the rocks, but also causes unpleasant cramps in the Marine's lower abdomen. It looked like a countdown to something big, as people say: a bad feeling? Or maybe the man was starting to go a little crazy, because even his partners seemed to completely ignore the sounds of their own similar watches.

At that thought, the man exhaled desperately and kicked a small pebble with all his might, hitting another pair of military boots standing nearby with precision and clarity. Okay, the word "precisely" doesn't fit here, it was more like a crooked and bad kick that immediately sent the pebble in the opposite direction

- Whoa! Careful, sniper, what if I lose my leg? Now is not the time for training on live targets, especially if it's me

- Ha-ha, very funny, Nicky,- the infantryman snorted, adjusting his military panama hat for the hundredth time, which treacherously fell over his eyes with every movement of his head, - but doesn't the fact that I chose you as a target show my love for you? - the man batted his eyelashes at the last words, covering the lower part of his face as if trying to hide his blush.

- Then you'd better hate me, Chris.

- Not you, so Jason will love me. Right, Kolcek?

- Or I'll hate you both together.

Another snort escaped uncontrollably, turning into a laugh with occasional grunts. It sounded as if the seagull had turned into a pig that had failed and was beginning to die. The laughter was so uncontrollable that the infantryman could only bend in half and lean on his knees to keep from falling. The rifle that was now hanging on his back periodically slapped him with each burst of laughter, leaving behind a not deafening sound. The man could no longer control his own grunting and tried to hide the remnants of his shame and dignity with the bandana tied around his neck. Through the laughter, Stokes caught his partners' small remarks to each other:

- Did I have something on my face? - Jason asked with sincere surprise and a slightly distinctive American accent of the area where he lived.

- Should I tell you the truth or be nice?

- Nick, do you want me to be gentle or cruel?

- I have to ask, what exactly do you give me in the choice?

Poor Chris crossed the line so far that it might have been considered normal laughter, as his normally tanned face began to change colors catastrophically quickly to red and gasp for breath.This shame will stay with him to the grave.

The bending of his body eventually forced the annoying panama hat to fall to the ground, falling mercilessly into the dust and dirt. Christopher didn't really care about it, and moreover, the object that had been covering his eyes was finally gone, and life became brighter. In the literal sense. However, the internal celebration of this kind of liberation was short-lived, because something more valuable, much more valuable, like a treasure, fell from head. His life-worn glasses, the lenses of which were scratched and irrevocably stained in some places, the left temple of which had been taped over a dozen times, fell to the ground with a soft thud, pulling out a few hairs.

The laughter stopped instantly, replaced by horror as the man crouched down and picked up the object he needed. Blind as a mole, Stokes began to test it by touch, running his fingers over the cool surface of the glass, and almost immediately breathed a sigh of relief when he found no cracks. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the taped left temple of the glasses, which was betrayed by the tape, which came off due to dust, making it crooked and unstable again.

- Bitch, - the infantryman shamelessly cursed under his breath as he continued to feel for the tape in his pockets.

- Let me help you, - a familiar accent said very close to his ear

Someone else's exhalation in ear caused herds of ants to run through body, disarming mind like a fever, and feeling hands almost suddenly sweat as clutched the fragile thing tightly. To hell with it, the soldier was now grateful for the merciless Iranian sun and the previous bout of laughter that had hidden the insidious redness of his cheeks caused by something more personal.

Chris realized that Jason had come so close only to avoid frightening his blind partner, nothing more, but one slightly raspy voice with a southern American accent was enough to lose all concentration. Jason's voice was unapologetically funny at some points, due to the place of his birth, which made some words sound peculiar, but somehow it felt so new and familiar at the same time that Stokes not only wanted to, but craved to talk to Kolchek more, listening to every letter and sound. It sounded alive, not perfect and real.

- Thank you, - the American whispered uncomfortably, blindly handing over his glasses as a pair of hands took them away.

- Isn't that why I'm here? Marines do not abandon each other.

- Semper Fi, right? Even if it's just to glue my glasses for the hundredth time?

- Semper Fi. Even in the thousandth.

Bored in anticipation, the man tried to look at the environment and everything in it without his glasses. He understood perfectly well that God would not grant him enlightenment and restore his sight, but it was so interesting to kill boredom from time to time by drawing new pictures over and over again from the usual boring landscapes of everyday life. The whole world turned into a cluster of different colors and shapes, a complete abstraction. Van Gogh would have been jealous. It was just a pity that Stokes had no talent or desire to paint, so that more people than himself could see it. This entertainment did not last long, as a lump came to his throat and a wild desire to empty his stomach. The side effects of his "artistic vision" in the form of vomiting came almost instantly, as soon as he was without glasses for even five minutes.

- Close your eyes and count to ten, slowly. With each count, exhale deeply, - Kolchek's voice whispered in ear again, like a haunting curse, drawing everyone's attention to him and his hand, which began to slowly stroke back under the rifle.

- Water, perhaps?

Nick finally reminded of his presence in time, giving Christopher relief and the opportunity to breathe with a full lung when Jason's attention was distracted.

- I'm more in need of good eyesight, an endless supply of glasses and protein bars, but thanks.

- Eternally hungry.

- You always smoke like a chimney.

- Blind.

- Giant.

- It's done.

- Gods, Jason, you're my life saver!

- And I offered water, so without me you will die under the sun in the next few hours, because of your own stupidity. I will not miss you.

This phrase will play a role in your future

- Yes, yes, I hate you too, but tell me how bad the cosmetic repair of my glasses looks. No, I'd rather you both tell me how bad it is on a scale of one to ten.

- Ouch, so cruel to Jason's help,- the black man teased.

- But he's the only one who came to help, Nicky, - Chris countered, - so what? How do you rate your own work? - his emerald eyes bore into the brunette in the cap.

The cruel internal irony was waiting for one good comment to come along, as an incentive and support to stay with this pair of glasses as long as possible, no matter how shitty they looked. He was not ready to get rid of them, the wounds were too fresh and would only start bleeding violently if he tore off the band-aid that served as the old, shabby glasses. As he waited, Chris never took his eyes off Kolchek's dark and mesmerizing eyes, which seemed to bring everyone to their knees if they wanted to. They resembled a combination of dark chocolate dipped in honey, but if the man stood a little to the side, at an angle of the sun's rays, the lighting changed the deep look to something warm, and the surface of the dark chocolate simply melted into a milky chocolate that tasted great with tea. It would seem that a coherent answer to this question could have come immediately, given that each of them knew the real answer, but Jason suddenly capitulated, looking away and coughing into his fist as he returned to his patrol. Kolchek was not very good at such matters, which could and even should have touched his empathic side, especially complicated by his bluntness and not always being able to keep the truth behind his teeth. The man tried to avoid it, being soft now could mean an untimely death, emotions were something they, Marines, had to be able to keep under control. However, the brunette failed, time after time, a stupid smile creeping onto his face, as soon as he looked at his partners, who were no longer strangers from the beginning of their service, now they were brothers, his only friends in all these years, with whom it was impossible to be a cold wall.

Semper Fi was now their motto for life.

The unpleasant morning abdominal cramps have been replaced by new painful sensations in my chest that take my breath away. This is what disappointment tastes like. Exhaling sharply through the gap between his front teeth, Stokes finally picked up his own panama hat, shaking off the dirt and dust that had managed to penetrate the dark green fabric, making it a point to take a proper shower later, because he would no longer be sure of the cleanliness of his hair. It was quite surprising how, in a few seconds, the hated part of the wardrobe became much more interesting than all the subsequent looks and conversations.

- Well,- Chris finally broke the uncomfortable silence with a dry smile, - your answers are eloquent without words, I'm going to go mourn it over a cigarette. Thank you in advance, Nicky, for the lighter and the cigarette itself.

- But I didn't give you anything...- Nicholas added with suspicion, rustling his hands in his pockets. - You did! How!?

- Sleight of hand, my dear friend, sleight of hand,- Chris replied, twirling the stolen lighter he had already removed between his fingers and stepping outside the small checkpoint, pulling his panama hat back over head.

- Don't let your guard down, okay?

That was the last thing that reached Chris's ears in Jason's last moments of silence, but now it was Kolchek's turn to catch the silence and his friend's stingy nod

Almost instantly, the scorching and dry air of the area hit his tanned face, forcing Christopher to squint, habitually expecting a grain of sand to hit his eyes. Having escaped from the merciless nature, the marine decided to lean against the wall of their small checkpoint, where he leaned his weapon as a ritual and did the same. The heated wall wasn't much fun for the smoker, only making his damp T-shirt and sweat-soaked bandana stick to body more. But it served its purpose quite well for the moment, like protection from the blazing Iranian sun or the occasional sandy wind, so Stokes wasn't complaining, especially since he'd been exposed to worse conditions, so it could even be called a luxury in a way.

The new portion of nicotine made cough a little, just like the first time. It seemed that the man would never be able to take a drag properly and properly from the first time, almost dying in a coughing fit from the smoke in his lungs. Someone could stop it, why make yourself suffer over and over again for something that destroys you and can even kill you in the long run?

Addiction can be more than just a cigarette, bottle or drug. Addictions take on human images, traits, and cover the spectrum of the addict's emotions, making it impossible to stop. Who knows, maybe we are all born addicted, but the activation and development of the catalyst occurs uniquely for everyone. At different times, ages, or situations.

Chris doesn't remember when he became an addict. Moreover, he doesn't see himself as such, and cigarette after cigarette doesn't change the infantryman's mind. It became part of the process, like hunger or thirst or even air. The body needs, demands, and destroys itself when at least one process is ignored. The language does not turn to call what has become a part of you an addiction.

In other words, it is too weak to admit it to yourself.

The sound of an earpiece in right ear instantly brought out of his thoughts, forcing to drop his cigarette in surprise.

- Columbus, this is Mailman Two - One Actual. An unknown person is approaching, be prepared for any eventuality. Over.

- This is Columbus. The order was adopted.Over.

His hands quickly picked up the weapon, automatically remembering to check the magazine for ammunition and receiving his own acknowledgment of readiness, Chris cautiously peered out from behind the wall through the scope, looking at the unknown. It was a small and frail figure, looking like a civilian. The figure walked along holding something in his hands, clutching some packages to his chest, which made the marine feel tense from not knowing what it could be, and his finger squeezed the trigger slightly, but not firing, waiting for further orders.

- Stop right there, - Kolchek's loud and steely voice rang out, - and provide the contents of your packages. If you do not comply, we will open fire.

A chill ran down spine as he realized the true gravity of the situation. The radical methods of shooting to kill, brought Christopher to a cold, even icy and sticky fear in the pit of his stomach. He will never be able to get used to it, and the look in the empty eyes of the dead haunts his nights, even though those dead could be the terrorists themselves. The current situation plays a major role in how the events will unfold, how many will die or survive.

One shot could have saved someone, but it could have also killed them if it was a civilian.

- Damn it, Jason, she's not stopping.

- You think I can't see that, Nick?

- Then... should I follow the order? - Kay asked in a whisper, uncertain, even a little afraid.

- Yes. Shoot, buddy,- Kolchek said immediately, without a doubt, trying to contact Chris again. - Columbus, this is Mailman Two - One Actual. Come back to us. Over.

The silence in response made the man frown in displeasure, repeating the call. The uneasiness snaked under the infantryman's skin. Where the hell can you disappear to when you're just a few steps away from them?

- Columbus, this is Mailman Two - One Actual. Can you hear me? Over.

A shrill and loud female scream made Kolchek flinch, quickly turning his gaze to Nicholas, who was beginning to lose color from his own face, despite his dark skin. The body of an unidentified civilian could be seen pinned to the ground by the missing marine, while all the packages were brutally poured out without mercy, some of the food, such as some vegetables or some Iranian sweets, spilled out onto the ground. A wave of emotions washed over Jason: from relief that Stokes was alive and hadn't disappeared to anger that he had left without warning or an order to attack. However, anger quickly overwhelmed the slippery fear in his chest for the man's safety, involuntarily recalling the infamous September 11 attacks, forcing the brunette in the cap to take a quick step away from his post, raising his weapon and holding the pair in his sights. Sgt. Kay followed closely behind, but more slowly, providing the necessary cover.

The girl began to fall silent, and two of the Marines noticed the third of them finally make signs of movement, slowly rising from her, saying something. Only as they got closer did they hear Arabic, which was slightly sharp with a strong American accent.

هل أنت في أمان؟ أنا آسف لإخافتك، لكنك كنت تتصرف بشكل غير مسؤول هنا. كان يمكن أن تُقتل بسبب هذا، أتفهم؟ - ( - I'm sorry I scared you, but you were acting irresponsibly. You could have been killed for that, you know?), - the junior lieutenant spoke harshly, holding the girl's fallen headphones.

In response, he received only a new and loud girlish sob, and the girl hid behind her hands, covering her face and head, as if wanting to disappear from the men who frightened her, mostly Christopher himself, who spoke to her as if in a language both native and unknown. No wonder she was afraid of them: now, in a foreign land, they were nothing more than hated criminals or murderers associated with the war in their homeland. Chris's expression softened and his guilt blossomed into a new bouquet in his chest as he saw a frightened child, to say the least. How old was she, 17? 19?

أنا آسف- , (- I'm sorry) - the man whispered, not as harshly as before, with a hint of guilt, picking up the fallen vegetables and sweets from the ground and returning them to their place. At the same time, he inspected the packages.

A feeling of relief came out of lungs as an exhalation, realizing that there was nothing dangerous except the food. Perhaps the most dangerous thing that could have been was the sweets for diabetics.

- She is fine, just couldn't hear us through the headphones, - the feeling of a saved life washed over, making smile stupidly at Jason and Nick. لا بأس، يمكنك العودة إلى المنزل الآن - ,( - Everything's fine, you can go home.) - Chris handed her the packages, expecting the girl to come out of her shell of fear and run away from them without even looking.

But still, surprisingly, the tanned girl accepted the packages calmly, only throwing frightened glances between the three strangers until she added hoarsely with tears:

أنت... لن تقتلني وعائلتي؟ - (You... won't kill me and my family?)

أتفهم سبب اعتقادك ذلك, ( - I understand why you think so,)- Chris could not hide the disappointment in his voice, - كما ترى، كل هذه الفحوصات ضرورية فقط لضمان السلامة. من أجلنا ومن أجلك. (As you can see, all of these checks are only necessary to ensure security. For us and for your people) , - he lied. Their command never accepted the Iranian people. ألم تأخذ الحرب وقتاً كافياً لإيقاف الموت العبثي أخيراً؟ - (Was the war not enough to finally stop the senseless deaths?) ,اعتني بنفسك (Take care of yourself). - Chris helped the girl to stand up, giving her something from his pocket. - إنه لوح من الحبوب أقسم أنها ليست مسممة, (These are flakes that I swear are not poisoned,) - The marine objected to the suspicion in other people's eyes and showed up to a dozen empty wrappers from his own pockets, - ولذيذ جداً,(and very tasty.) - the man could not help but smile.

The girl's lips smiled for a split second. It was hard to tell if she was nervous or if she really decided to thank her rescuer with a smile rather than words. Carefully taking the offered treat, she did not dare to put on her headphones and almost ran in the right direction.

- What kind of friendly tea party was that, Columbus!? - Jason finally lowered his weapon, exploding in a wave of anger at his friend. - Or should I ask you first for your disappearance, for not contacting me, and for making contact with the target despite no orders?

Kolchek's cheeks flushed red from an uncontrollable outburst of screaming and anger. Who the hell was the first lieutenant on their team?

- I apologize, First Lieutenant Kolchek,- Chris spat out irritably, - but if it weren't for me, a civilian was killed for nothing.

- I see where you're going, Junior Sergeant Stokes, - the first lieutenant said, like Christopher, perhaps even with more causticity, - do you want the order immediately or after the ceremony?

- What the hell is wrong with you?!

- What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you! What if Nick had hit you? In the head? In the heart? You'd be fucking dead!

Both of them, irritated and angry, fell silent, as if not knowing what to do next. One ran away, not even thinking about the safety of his life, and the other broke into a sweat as soon as he saw the body of the first one lying on the target. The realization gradually came to mind, bringing with it a bucket of cold guilt for the two men to face each other, forcing them to look away.

- I... I hit it,- Nicholas broke the silence again, - Chris...? - he turned to Kay in a moment of excitement

Almost simultaneously with Kolchek, Stokes instantly began to examine himself, feeling his heart begin to pound nonstop, echoing in his ears, fueling his internal panic as his own hands touched his body, searching for injuries. The adrenaline was leaving body, bringing with it a wave of awareness and a tangible aching, slightly burning pain in the back under his right shoulder blade.

- Shit, you're fuking right, - Columbus whispered, gasping for breath, not so much from the wound as from internal panic.

He realized that he might have been exaggerating too much, that the wound was probably not fatal, at least the junior sergeant believed it now, to muffle the frightening pounding of his own heart. But brain was panicking, drawing picture after picture of him bleeding out irreversibly, getting infected, or dying without waiting for help because of his stupidity. The voices around him seemed to be moving away, and reality gradually disappeared like quicksand, taking the marine into its depths.

Fuck, Jason's gonna kill him for sure.

Welcome to my new story! I want to make a few warnings before you dive into reading the next chapters. This game does not belong to me and only Chris and his story are mine. Some moments will be modified, you know, it's necessary for Chris to be infused canonically and not look like a flat decoration. I can't tell you exactly who the ending will be with, it's all in the process, or even a joint ending is planned, so wait). Oh, yeah, a few more warnings: swearing, blood, traumatic moments, death. There will not be too much adult content, and most likely in the last chapters.My English is not perfect yet, so there may be mistakes. I try to improve with each text Enjoy reading!

#house of the ashes #the dark pictures anthology #hoa #artists on tumblr #artist #fanfic #salim othman #jason kolchek #hoa salim #hoa jason #the dark pictures house of ashes #reader x character #reader x salim #reader x jason #jason x reader x salim

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kassiekole22 · 2 years

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