#with the incentive of the twinkling blue lights in my room that i was staring at when i first heard the album <3

[in-superbloom]

okay so. i never really did a review (feels weird to call it a review tho so let's say a very opinionated essay that's totally the opposite of what college taught me) for wfttwtaf but i never really know how to do that for any album, doesn't matter how much it makes me feel feelings, bc i simply can't write about my own emotions in cohesive thoughts ✌🏻😔

so instead, i let my brain do this thing he usually does when i listen to an album that leaves an effect on me, which is pretty much just creating visuals for the songs bc apparently my feelings translate better into images/vibes rather than words lmao but since i am unfortunately not skilled to drawn/paint/created actual visual stuff, i just wrote them so i'm gonna leave them here bc why not <3

i just really love when music (art in general, but especially music for me) makes your mind run wild & be so inspired that you can't help but create something based on that feeling <3 a great example of that is the amount of art everyone here (on tumblr!sos verse, but also tumblr & the internet in general) create based on other peoples' art & i just *clenches fists* really love that 💜

anyways !! if you're reading this, i hope this makes sense to you & if you wanna chat about the album, my mail box is always open 💜

• track one: starting line – like the mv, but he's running like he's trying to get away from something, always looking behind his shoulder, stumbling on things/people on the streets. also maybe not flying?;

• track two: saigon – then he reaches a tiny but unique/eye-catching door, gets intrigued & enters. he has to go downstairs through a dark and narrow corridor, he hears muffled music coming down there. he reaches the door & the music is now clear, it looks like there are disco balls everywhere ((pink, blue and purple bc ofc)), the place is packed with people dancing & just vibing™. he goes to the dancefloor, but soon it gets overwhelming so he tries to reach a wall or the other end of the club, but he can't. the more he walks, the furthest he feels from the walls. everything has a psychedelic look, also some of those trippy effects he used on motion, and no one seems to notice/ care about him. this goes on until the end of the song, then he finally finds a door ((not the one he came from)) and opens it;

• track three: motion – he expects to find a street, but instead he's inside a room. it's a bit dark, all he sees are shadows, but then suddenly everything turns into an explosion of colors ((when the songs picks up in the beginning)), all dancing in front of him, making him feel lost & dizzy. he keeps walking, but every now and them he stumbles on something ((random things like animals or weird props or stuff that aren't supposed to be alive, but are)). he admires everything with a childlike wonder, touches things and then they turn into something else, or change form/shape/color. in the end, he's distracted looking at something and then falls like the floor reached an end;

• track four: place in me – he fell right there where he is in the mv/visualizer, it goes on like that;

• track five: baby blue – make it look like he fell asleep after the end of place in me, so he's very confused when he wakes up & it looks like the place is falling apart, like end of the world type ((like the lamentis thingy on loki)). things are exploding & he can see another planet very close to the one where he is. it's a bit scary but it's a breathtaking view nonetheless. he's mesmerized, but also kinda already accepted his fate? he's not trying to run to find a shelter/salvation or anything, just watching it all fall apart. at the end, he stops, turns around & looks at the path that he was walking ((full of nature things colored in every shade of blue and also glittery dust)) and he's just admiring it when he's hit by a big rock maybe? or a moon, who knows;

• track six: repeat – he's throw away to somewhere that's not collapsing, it looks like a pathway in the woods? but like, no florest too near, and it's sunny but not too warm, and the path is filled with green grass and flowers. he lands in a place that looks like a field but not quite. and then after walking for a while, he finds himself, but another version of him. maybe a younger one or an older one or both? like, they both just stop and stare at each other and kinda do this lil dance of trying to touch the other & watching the other, both a lil frightened but completely intrigued. maybe the older version of him? ooooh maybe it starts with an older version, but then every time present luke gets distracted by something else or turns around for a second, the other luke is getting younger, until he's just a lil kid. the ending is the mini luke offering his hand for present luke to grab, so he can lead him to a house that was near where they were. ((or maybe mini luke makes him run after him));

• track seven: mum – luke enters the house & immediately recognizes it as the house he grew up in. every step he takes, a wall or an object or a room brings a memory & it plays it out like a hologram. lots of memories. then in the guitar solo part, he finds a guitar in the room where he used to play the most when he was a kid ((maybe some cool&cute effects going around him, representing the sound coming from the guitar)). before the solo ends, you can see a shadow in the threshold of the door, and when he finished the guitar solo, luke turns around and smiles, getting up to hug the person ((it's his mum)) but maybe you never actually see her face?;

• track eight: slip away – he steps out of his childhood house and enters this big dark room. there's only a lil blue light coming from the very center of the room. when he gets closer to it, he sees it's a lil star, who looks very scared. as soon as she notices him ((he tries to reach her)) she runs out of the door on the other side of the room. he's worried&intrigued so he follows her, but when he opens the door, he immediately falls, this time he's in what looks like the clouds ((blue hues ofc but clearer ones, not as dark shades like the ones in place in me & baby blue)), and soon he finds out he can "swim" through them. he does that for a while until he sees the lil star and tries to follow her again. this goes on until he finally gets close to her, but when he touches her, she literally slips from his grasp bc he's being teleported again ((but make it look like she's the portal));

• track nine: diamonds – it starts with a close up on the water maybe? and then the camera keeps getting higher & suddenly he falls into it and soon the camera follows. he's distorted for a bit, especially when he notices he's already too deep into the water, away from the surface. then he tries to swim to the surface, but there's a bunch of things?? or like weird and mean seapeople maybe? trying to drag him down ((kinda like that scene on harry potter & the goblet of fire)). he tries his best to fight them, but what gets him away from them is a group of nice seapeople who came to his rescue. then they all swim away from the place they were ((also maybe slip in some diamonds or things that look like them around there?));

• track ten: a beautiful dream – he reaches a lil city? under water with the help of the nice seapeople & then there's this piano on the ground ((maybe covered in seaweed and stuff like that)) and he's immediately drawn to it. he plays/sings the song ((maybe like the guitar effects in mum, the sounds coming from the piano affect the place around him even tho it looks like he barely notices it)). when the song is finishing, he notices a white light coming from the surface. he looks at it & then follows it;

• track eleven: bloodline – then he's getting out of the water? at some beach perhaps? he's slowly getting out of the water & there's this beautiful sunrise behind him. he's singing along, looking like he just came out of a battle but at the same time he's in peace with himself, looking not exactly happy but relieved. he's walking on the beach, making his way home but he's not in a hurry. then in that lil bit in the end of the song, he gets out of the frame after looking straight to the camera maybe?? and the camera focuses on the sunrise and then everything goes black;

• track twelve: comedown – he wakes up in a bed ((like, this is him waking up from all these dreams)) & he's slightly confused bc the dreams felt so real, but he's feeling better & not so lost anymore. he goes out in a walk that maybe shows every place he was in his dreams? but like, this time you see what they really are bc every place in his dreams was inspired by a real location/thing, just reimagined. but like, he doesn't enter anywhere, he's just walking & you can see the places on both sides of the street. like, it's clearly a set up location but it's just representative. maybe you can see some of his friends/family at some of these locations or maybe they're all together in one place? but they don't look at him, they're just talking&laughing with each other. he looks happy, at ease & he's smiling, wearing a yellow or gold shirt. in the end, he reaches a cliffside maybe? somewhere that leads you to think that he'll go through another portal, but then he suddenly stops, looks down at the cliffside and crouches down bc he saw the lil blue star from slip away but it's now a necklace. he picks it up, with a small&easy smile and then looks at the camera, gives a bigger, real smile, gets up and turns around, going back to where his friends&family are, but the camera stays there, just watching him go.

// now some notes bc i love to over explain myself //

• the "water" one was supposed to be slip away, but alison @bandsanitizer was talking about a beautiful dream these days & said that something about the song reminds her of a sonar-like sound & the idea of searching for something, so that got me thinking about the ocean & relating it to this song and it also makes a lot of sense with what the album represents in my mind, so it made me change that. thank you for that miss alison, it's always a pleasure to read your thoughts 😌💜

• & it also fitted well with the “i can't fight the bloodline living in the seams back home” line from bloodline, so i wanted that one to be related to the water as well bc that's all i can think about when i hear that lyric;

• something in common that appears in every single one: an object or something related to time, since it's the big common theme on the whole album;

• in each song he's wearing the same outfit he wore in the starting line mv (white tee + black pants + converse) but in each one of them, that red shirt is in a different color;

• i had the visuals from starting line to mum very clear in my head on my first listen of the album, but i only truly finished writing all of this yesterday bc i wanna listen to halsey's new album and see if my brain does this thing again, but i wanted to finish wfttwtaf first <3

& that's it bc i already talked too much for a day lmao if you read all of this, you're a true hero & i love you <3 have a nice day 💛

[ruubles]

A Bundle of Crimson Roses (Pt.1)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: Chuuya Nakahara x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol , Cursing , Mentions of Violence , Suggestive Dialogue 

Word Count: 6,180

Chuuya’s eyes scanned across the scene unfolding inside the dim lit bar: Their vermilion blue watching as the patrons cheered and drank their sanity away with glasses of liquor. The source of their blissful unrest was a woman, her height far surpassing most in the bar as she held up a glass filled to the brim with what seemed to be vodka. Her smile seemed to radiate light even in the darkened room as she poured some of the liquid from her glass to theirs. A smile as pure as the chill that nipped its way through the skin, weaved in and out of view as she passed along the intoxicating drink to the numerous men gathering around her.

Though Chuuya had been to this bar many times, he’d never once seen a person who even reassembled the one passing along the beverage. Most of the time the bar was quiet and filled with a content array of individuals who sought only to drink away burdensome memories, but with every passing moment the number of rowdy men seemed to grow. The time of ease had passed long before he’d arrived, likely some time before midnight, and as the clock scrapped its way past three no one showed any signs of returning to the way it had usually been. He found it very annoying, his peaceful night disturbed by someone who he’d never seen step foot inside the bar he so often visited.

She was tall, towering over most men in the room by several inches, her height without heels would surely surpass six feet but with the added inches she was a head above all. The brilliant black hair bounced in curls as she swayed to the gentle music flowing through the unrelenting chatter of the men, even from afar he could see how well groomed the tassels of hair that fell across her face seemed to be. He could see why the men in the room had taken a liking to her, she was beyond beautiful in comparison to the woman who usually kept to themselves in the corner of the bar: Much like how he sat now, analyzing the woman who’d started this boisterous night so many hours ago. Even though he’d watched her take many a sip from the bottle in her hand, she showed no sign of intoxication, but with every added bit of alcohol entering her system the deep color of rust gleamed brighter in her eyes.

Looking down at his phone, the screen flickering to light in the palm of his hand, he took note of the passing of time. Nearly an hour had gone by since he’d made his way to the table nestled sweetly into the corner of the room, it was the best spot to sit for observation with a clean view of the entire floor. Several message notifications popped up but none important enough to tear him away from this night: Though he was not nearly as drunk as he’d desired to be, he still wished to eventually reach that point. The events leading up to this desire for a heedless night of drinking were long and tedious: Mori had pushed numerous assignments onto his hands, all of which were to be completed before the days end, thus making for a long strenuous day.

Sighing he clicked the button on the side of the device, its screen dying in the palms of his hand to leave only his own reflection staring back. Tiredness fluttered across his expression as he saw the way bags sat unmoving under his eyes and for a moment he contemplated leaving the bar. Had he gotten a second drink when he finished his first then this thought would be far gone, but with only the lightest bit of fuzz trickling through his mind it seemed to ring in the space between his ears. This night had meant to be calm and allow for a bit of relaxation but as the scandalous men continued to slur their speeches of undying love for the woman, it showed no signs of peace.

His head fell back, red hair falling softly atop the black leather of the bar seat as he watched the ceiling so high above head. Raising a hand he blocked the brightest of lights and focused on the ones that had burned out quite a long time ago: They had worked so hard to brighten such a dim shop and yet they were left for dead. It crossed his mind that maybe this would be himself. Chuuya had dedicated his life to the Port Mafia and continued to work everyday under Mori’s substantial leadership, but when the day was done all he could do was bury his head in a bottle of sweet, crimson wine. If he were to die now then all the work he’d put in would be outshined by those who had worked far less but held more natural talent than he: Though he held no plans to die in the near future.

The sounds of music drifted through his mind, gentle notes of familiar jazz bringing back memories of a life before this: One with friends that he’d thought cared dearly for him. Closing his eyes he took in the lingering smell of alcohol floating through the unending stretch of the bar: The spirituous smell of a strong vodka that likely belonged to the woman he’d been watching for such a long period of time. She’d captivated his gaze by so carelessly being able to move through a crowd as large as the one she’d pulled together with her bewitching beauty. Though the people who’d been enchanted by her seemed to have quieted in the short time he’d been resting his eyes.

Lost in a dark sea of thoughts, Chuuya had been too enamored with his own mind to realize the approach of another person. Their appearance at his table only came to light when, with one swift motion, tore his hat from his head. Shooting up his blue eyes held a threatening glare towards the woman who’d stolen his tattered old hat, her (E/C) eyes meeting his in an almost instant connection of infatuation. Sitting atop her nape of silken (H/C) hair was the article of clothing in which she’d chosen to steal from him. 

“If you keep scowling like that then your face might get stuck that way.” She let out a gentle laugh, pulling the hat from her head before using a hand to fix several strands of her untamed locks. Without a second of hesitation she sat herself down across from him, (E/C) eyes lit by the flickering candle in the center of their now shared table. His hat had found its way back atop her head and forced a shadow to cascade down upon her sharp features.

“Who the hell are you.” Chuuya’s voice rose above the gentle jazz still buzzing through the background, deep and clear as he calmly demanded an answer from the woman. His blue eyes that once sparkled with the life of the ocean were now as cold as ice, watching her every movement in hopes of finding the right moment to snatch his hat back. Though the task was simple, he’d much prefer to keep the conversation somewhat civil and not start a fight. 

“Just a lonely bar frequenter looking for someone to exchange words with.” Once again she let out a quiet chuckle, hands twirling together as she played with a diamond ring resting upon her finger. Since making her unwarranted appearance she’d been messing with her hands, but it wasn’t until now that he noticed the jewelry twinkling in the candle. “Though I guess I must come off as something far more rude after stealing your hat. My apologies.”

With one swift movement she pulled the hat off her head, holding the rounded black brims in her hand as she ran slender fingers across the snuffed edges. Not many people had enough confidence to steal from another person, especially not from a mafia executive, but she hadn’t hesitated for a single second. Perhaps it could be considered rude or even foolish to approach another person in this way but more than anything it was intriguing. A smile of true temperament spread slowly across her lips, tugging at the corners to form a look of a dolorous sight. Reaching out she offered back his most precious belonging, hand extended in a sign of peace when she’d realized just how truly strange her actions had been.

Quickly Chuuya snatched his hat back, rubbing away flecks of dirt before returning it to its usual spot atop his fiery red hair. The woman watched intently as if to not spark any incentive of harm and the short man seemed to understand as he leaned back, any anger slowly dripping away from his expression as he took a final sip from his now empty glass of fine wine. Its fruity flavor lingered on his lips; Soft and sweet as if filled with memories of delicate feet dancing through vineyards in preparations of a coming harvest. Perhaps it smelled of the same scent that it tasted, but the strong scent of vodka seemed to drip from the woman before him and made it near impossible to distinguish the smell of his wine.

Though it was clear that she had been drinking before finding her way to him, she showed no signs of insobriety. Behind her the crowd of men had begun to fade, one by one realizing the woman who’d been leading the charge of celebration was nowhere to be found. Without their loud, slurred speech the music began to drift through the air and back into his ears. The jazz had stopped and now a classic rock rumbled its way through his mind. 

“What makes you think I’ll accept your apology?” He was stern and unwavering as he threatened to form a new feud with her. She seemed so calm even as he laid the threat out for all eyes to see: So much so that she was confident enough for her gaze to finally leave him. With that crestfallen smile falling to her hands she finally stopped the irksome fidgeting of her ring. “This hat is quite important to me and I don’t take kindly to people touching it. Especially not a strange woman who I’ve never seen before.”

“You make a fair point but I have a feeling you don’t really want to be alone during a long night of drinking. What would it hurt if you talked with that strange woman until she became such a nuisance that you killed her?” The comment had come from a strange place, changing the demeanor of the entire conversation with such simple words. For a moment Chuuya’s mind turned towards his former partner: Osamu Dazai, a man obsessed with suicide that it entwined itself into his everyday life. He couldn’t deny the similarities in the way they spoke: Sharp witted with a hint of tease.

“Let’s say I don’t strangle you for touching my hat.” He leaned forward, eyeing her with suspicious vermillion eyes until she finally met his gaze. “What gives you the idea I’d want to spend my peaceful night drinking with another person when I could so easily do it by my lonesome.”

“Is that really what you want? Of course I’d understand, wallowing in your own self pity always makes for a great evening but wouldn’t it be nice to share a glass of wine with a beautiful and mysterious woman.” She reached for his glass and pulled it towards her. Much like she had with her hat, she ran a slender finger across its rim and Chuuya only continued to watch her small movements. A chip on the glass caught her skin and gently cut at her delicate (S/C) finger; A droplet of blood finding its way to the bottom of the glass. 

He took note of how she hadn’t flinched, instead watching as she flipped the cup upside down, her drop of blood running down along the side of his glass. “If you wish to drink alone then by all means tell me to go, but I’d truly enjoy it if you’d accompany me to the bar.”

Chuuya watched as she stood up, leaving his glass flipped on the table with her blood staining the clear glass a bright crimson. If it hadn’t been for another droplet of blood rolling from her fingertip and onto the black carpet, he likely could have viewed her blood as the wine that had once filled his cup. She was a moderate height in comparison to the behemoth of a woman who’d been passing out the vodka minutes ago: (H/L) (H/C) hair falling in tassels atop her head and swaying with the few steps she’d taken. It was obvious she wasn’t exactly dressed for the bar, unlike most of the women she wore a pair of patchy black flats and a white pantsuit that was more suited for a day in an office building than a night in a bar.

“Out of pure curiosity, what’s your name?” Chuuya hadn’t expected her to glance back at him. Her brilliant (E/C) dancing in the darkness as she dared to search for something more than the ruthless mafia executive. Perhaps she was wishing for someone like her: Lonesome and willing to take a gamble for a night of forgotten mistakes. Yet he couldn’t allow her to see that part of him.

“(L/N) (Y/N). Though (Y/N) is preferred.” She turned away once again, not wanting to impose herself more on his life than she already had. It was a sweet gesture to not force any questions onto what was already a tipsy man. Chuuya watched her make her way through the floor, dodging the free flying hands of the people still moving about. Eventually she had safely found a spot at the bar with no one sitting even remotely close to her.

Chuuya didn’t care much for small talk, especially when it included a person who’d had the credence to think that he was purely drinking to forget his troublesome day: Though it was partially the reason, he also quite enjoyed the taste of a nice fruity wine. A buzz tore him from his ire thoughts, his phone calling him with the notification of a message bringing the screen to life. Once again he pulled the object from his pocket and scanned over the brief words, ‘Meeting at three tomorrow. Mori wants everyone on time and please don’t show up hungover, it’s an important day.’.

His admiration for Kouyou was not something he hid and he would do whatever she wished of him, but for some reason the message had just irked something inside him. Today, well yesterday, had been yet another important day filled to the brim with banal tasks forced onto him by Mori. Had it been an order and not just a mere request from the older woman then he would’ve obliged without hesitation, but the smell of sweet alcohol called him from afar and pulled his eyes back to the bar. Still she sat alone, glass of wine in hand as another untouched glass sat to the seat to her right.

It was clearly set there for him but he could see several men throughout the bar eyeing the prize as if it were theirs to claim. There was no denying she was a beautiful woman and it was likely the men desired her more than the wine beside her; They were dogs begging for a piece of meat but he was more so a lynx relishing in the blood of its fallen prey. Returning his phone to his pocket, Chuuya left his table and the upside down glass behind to seek after the woman who’d offered a hand of help to those who desired to be drunk on this lengthy night. Any person who attempted to even near her was quickly warned away by his minacous glares.

“I didn’t think you’d actually follow me.” She attempted to hide her smirk by taking a long sip of her wine but the pride was riddling her expression. Chuuya rolled his eyes and picked up the glass, swirling its contents round in round as if the churning water held all the answers he ever wished for.

“The only reason I’m here is for the wine, nothing more.” He put the glass to his lips and took a long sip, the insipid wine running down his throat and bringing a sour look to his face. Rolling his eyes he placed the glass back down and shoved it further away from him. The girl watched him as he did so, though it was clear she had no desire to continue her own glass, took another sip. “That tastes like shit.”

“It’s a clearance bottle from the store down the street. Personally I’d prefer something a bit more… tasteful” Chuuya sat and watched as the woman jumped over the bar, her hand holding her weight as she swung herself across. It was quick and fluid motion that he hadn’t  entirely expected from someone like her: She didn’t seem weak but doing something like that was difficult for most normal people. 

The barkeep rolled his eyes but still gave her a gentle pat on the head, softly rustling her locks of hair before she tore herself from his hand. “When you disappeared I thought surely you’d have taken one of those men home.”

“As if I’d ever let those buffoons into my pants, I may be a slut but not even I’d go that low.” She retorted with an added bit of arrogance before ducking down below the counter to someplace Chuuya couldn’t see. “Is the password still the same Isaac?”

“Only your first night back and you’re already opening up one of your special finds, if this is what I”m to expect while you’re in town then I might need to stock up.” The bartender squatted down behind the counter and several quiet beeps filled the air before he came back up. Skepticism ran through Chuuya’s mind but before it could cause him to make any rash decisions, his eyes met the bartenders: Tall and lean, blue eyes brilliant as they burned in the dim light, and his long black hair pulled back to show his sharp features. He seemed to always be working behind the counter, serving drink after drink no matter what time of day it was, but Chuuya wouldn’t question it as long as he was served.

As if sensing the unease that laced itself in Chuuya’s brows, the bartender, who’s name he now knew to be Isaac, offered a small bow of his head for respect. It was commonplace for members of the mafia to come to the small bar tucked safely inside an alley and thus the bartender had become somewhat of an honorary member of the mafia. Personally Chuuya had never spoken to him but he did know that Kouyou loved his mijito’s. If she trusted this establishment enough to come here biweekly for such a simple drink then he should have no anxieties himself: Plus if things were to end in a fight he was sure that he could handle his own.

After what seemed an eternity the woman finally arose from the underside of the bar with two fresh glasses in her hand and a bottle of wine in the other. She spun the bottle by its narrowed top and Chuuya could only catch a glimpse of its moving label. It came to a slow stop and his eyes lit up, surprised by the bottle clutched in her deft hands. “A 1985 Leroy Ruchottes, expensive but fitting for a dreary night like this one.”

“Sharing your 1985 with someone you don’t even know.” Isaac huffed before he grabbed the two unfinished drinks, their bland contents going to waste as he poured them down a sink.  “You must have gone mental from staying in that barren iceland for so long.”

The woman, (Y/N), rolled her rousing (E/C) eyes and down the supplies in her hands. “Isn’t it against the policy for customers to be behind the bar, Mr.Newton? I wonder what would happen if the owner were to find out that their endearing manager had broken such a simple rule.”

“If anyone were to get into trouble it’d be you.” He huffed in annoyance before turning and making his way across the bar to serve another patron. This left (Y/N) and Chuuya alone, both a bit tipsy from their nights of drinking, but still comprehensive enough to understand how little they know of one another. They were worlds apart but somehow they’d found themselves across from one another: Not knowing why the other had found their way into the bar on this fateful night.

Chuuya watched as she poured the fine wine into a fresh glass for him. Her movements were soft enough to avoid any splashing of the wine, it was as though she’d been trained to do that very thing in an elegant manner. “If I’m splitting a two-thousand dollar wine with you, I’d like to ask a question.”

He raised an eyebrow at her words, not prepared for such a statement but fully intending on seeing where it led. “Continue.”

“What brought you to the bar tonight?”

The question was so simple yet so forlorn with his tale of a despondent day. He didn’t know what exactly to tell the women who brimmed with curiosity at his untold daily life. Once again he was reminded they were strangers, nothing more than passerby in the stream of life, she’d likely never see him again after this night so there was no point in sharing detail. Plus, of course, there were the dangers of sharing any detail of what work he did within the mafia.

“Just needed to cool down.” He picked the glass and spun the liquid round in circles, watching as the crimson tinted the glass. Skepticism laced through his vision in fear of tasting yet another crappy wine from some dollar store. “Though it didn’t go as planned with that outrageous entourage for that tall ass woman.”

(Y/N) laughed, a quiet sound resonating through her throat and filling the air between them. It was filled with the softness of honey and dripping with the warmth of a bittersweet dark chocolate: Perfect and prim. “She has that effect on people.”

“You know her?” Her statement had caught him by surprise. When his eyes had scanned across the room he’d taken note of all those throughout the building but never once had he seen the woman across the counter, so why had she appeared as soon as her friend had disappeared.

“You could say that.” Once again she gave a mysterious answer that hid any truth of what her business inside this bar was. She was generous with her questions to him, wanting to know more of who he was by offering a wine, yet she gave no information of who she was. Outside this bar he had no clue who she was. “So you needed to cool down? What could cause a man such as yourself so much stress that you want nothing more than to get drunk with a beautiful woman at your side.”

“Work is pretty shitty when no one seems to do anything correctly.” Chuuya took a sip of the wine she’d poured for him. It was perfectly chilled as it rolled through his lips and down his throat, the fruity flavor danced across his tongue. He was familiar with fine wines and this truly was one. “How about yourself? At this point you seem to know more about me than I do about you and I don’t think that’s entirely fair.”

“I guess I’m in a similar boat with the work bit. Four years away from Yokohama and my boss wanted me to drop everything to return here.” She took another sip of the wine before putting it down on the counter. Her (E/C) eyes seemed to soften and fill with a tiredness that matched her gruesome words from earlier this night. “Never thought I’d be back here after what happened.”

The last bit was not meant for his ears and he knew that well enough from the exhaustion bushed inside her tone, but he couldn’t just leave it at that. Curiosity brimmed in his head and with the haze of alcohol settling in his mind he couldn’t bear to not ask any questions. “What happened?”

She didn’t respond, eyes glazing in memories that flowed through her thoughts like water. A ring blasted above the music in the room and that was what finally tore her from her thoughts. (Y/N) was quick to answer her phone, pulling it from her white pocket and pressing it to her ear. “Yes sir, I’ll be there within the hour… No there isn’t a need for a car… Thank you, sir.”

“Your boss?” Chuuya took a large sip of the wine as he watched her pocket her phone and gulp the final ounces of her drink. “I guess this is where we part ways.”

“It would seem that way. Feel free to finish the bottle and if Isaac tries to charge you then just remind him that it was a personal bottle.” (Y/N) pushed the bottle further towards him and Chuuya was happy to take it off her hands and pull it beside his glass. A small smile rested on her lips from the sight of her precious wine not being wasted. She gave a small whistle then waved at the bartender, Isaac returning the gesture with a small flick of his hand. “It was nice talking with you…”

Her voice trailed off as she searched for a name she hadn’t been given. “Chuuya Nakahara.”

“Chuuya.” She tested the name on her tongue, its syllables weighed a hefty amount as they floated through the air. With that final call to him she turned and made her way to the door and left him alone sitting on a stool. He could’ve let her leave but it felt wrong to let this end on such a rancorous note.

“You ever steal my hat again I swear I’ll kill you!”

“Promise?”

~ x ~

The table was filled with a quiet chatter as everyone awaited the arrival of Ougai Mori who seemed to be running late this early morning. A meeting this large was uncommon to say the least, Chuuya couldn’t remember the last time that many people had been seated around this large table. Kouyou and he sat at the forefront on either side of where Mori should have been sitting, lining the sides were numerous ranked members within the mafia. What had originally meant to be a meeting among only him, Mori and Kouyou had somehow turned into this situation without his knowing.

Chuuya leaned back in his seat, resting his hat over his face to block the dim light fluttering throughout the room, but yet it did nothing to soothe the knot in his head. After finishing the bottle of wine given to him by the mysterious woman he’d blacked out and the hangover became inevitable. Kouyou had been sure to taunt him from the moment he’d slouched in the chair across from her, but she was kind enough to provide him with a glass of water.

“I hear you had a drinking partner last night, are the rumors true?” Her voice was chilled with the usual icy tone but he knew she meant no harm in her words. It was a procedure for them to keep up a distant attitude when people were around: Being executives had few flaws and having to be uptight during work hours was one of them.

“Partner is a strong word. She disappeared after her first drink and left me alone to finish a bottle.” Chuuya didn’t bother to move his hat off his head, using it as a cover to the prodding light. The whole room was filled with harsh utterance that hurt his all too sensitive hungover self. “Though I must admit the wine tasted great.”

There was no chance for Kouyou to respond as the doors to the room burst open, wide and unexpected to allow a bright light to flood the dim room. Everyone in the table straightened as their quiet chatters fell to a silent void. Chuuya pushed his hat back and leaned forward, hunched in hopes to not lose the little bites of food he’d taken before leaving his apartment this morning. Mori walked with Elise close on his heels, he stayed silent as the short blonde girl tugged harshly at his sleeve. Her pleas to leave the meeting were a screech in Chuuya’s sore head but he had no ability to fight back. 

“Good morning.” His words held a bit of joy laced underneath their serious air. “I’d like to thank you all for finding the time to attend this meeting.”

“Did we have a choice whether to attend?” Kouyou covered her mouth with a fan, teasing Mori’s kindness with the jab at his gracious thanks to the people sitting solemnly around the table.

“You always have a choice, but there are no promises saying you wouldn’t have been harmed if you chose not to attend.” It took a minute for him to walk the length of the table but finally his intransigent steps came to a halt and he sat at the head of the table. Like usual his hands adorned deep white gloves, but while they had usually been hidden beneath the table messing with one of his scalpels, they sat atop the gleaming wood as his fingers fidgeted with one another. The small motion tore at most people throughout the table as they realized just how serious this situation must be. “Before we start I’d like to make a few things clear. First off: The woman you are about to meet is dangerous and I am not able to guarantee absolute safety for any of you.”

Curiosity spiked within the room, everyone listening intently as for the first time in years Mori addressed all his high ranking agents in one message. The warning of an incoming dangerous person was intriguing and though a bit worrying they could not fight against his order. “Secondly: Information shared within this room is to remain within this room, if it discovers you leaked any bit of intelligence you will be executed.”

That much was obvious to even those who didn’t regularly attend meetings like this: Information within the Port Mafia was to be kept within no matter the cost. Dropping any bit of intel would result in a severe punishment if not your death. “My final word of warning is only to be heeded for Chuuya. Do not try and ask to change this situation, my word is final.”

“What are you saying boss? It seems like you‘re already expecting me to hate what’s about to happen.”

His laugh was chilling, cold and desolate in the curiosity implicit room. The smile that followed was fanatical as Mori faced down his executive. Though Chuuya would follow Mori to death and further he couldn’t help but question what decision he’d made this time. Kouyou also seemed to be wary of what their leader had gotten them into. Mori was a well thought man but from what he’d said in these few minutes it seemed as though he’d lost his intelligence to a crazed insanity. If not even he could guarantee the safety of those in this room then whoever this woman was had to be someone of high strength.

“I’ll keep this short: As of late, there’s been a drug circulating throughout the underground. One that has the capability of permanently robbing a person of their ability. I’ve brought in an old agent who I’m certain can help us uncover who’s behind this creation of this horrid drug.” Mori’s hands clasped together and sent a sharp clasp flooding through the air, it scraped through every crevice in the room and dared anyone to try and ask a question. He was yet to finish speaking but many people in the room had become restless upon hearing what he’d said so far. “She will be your new partner for the time.”

“With all due respect, I don’t need a partner; I’m perfectly capable of handling this on my own.” Chuuya’s words were held with an air of tempted duplicity: After what had happened with Dazai he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to be chained to yet another person as a partner.

“You say as much but I’m afraid even your ability isn’t a match for the challenges we are about to face. The agent I’ve called back used to be an executive much like you, ambitious and astute without a will to allow her to back down.” Mori stood from his seat and Elise was quick to push it in, the young blonde seeming to straighten her attitude as Mori’s air changed in a matter of moments. This was serious. “It would do you well to remember that she is of equal rank with both you and Kouyou. She is far stronger than she seems and I assure you that this partnership you will endure will be prosperous.”

His steps held an air of solitude, one after another as he made his way down the opposite side of the table to the large door at the front of the room. Around the table everyone watched his movements, people craned their heads in hopes of meeting his twisted stares to understand what exactly he was speaking of. As of now only two people were meant to talk: Mori and Chuuya. Kouyou understood this and kept her questions closed within herself.

“You said she used to be an executive, what happened? Am I working with someone who’s going to stab me in the back the moment she sees a better opportunity?” If Chuuya had to choose a single standard for a partner it would be that of trustworthiness. He was curious if this woman could live up to what should be such a simple standard, but most seemed to find it difficult to comprehend. 

“She received a promotion of sorts.”

“As for the betrayal bit, I could have easily done so last night. Yet I chose to kindly share some of my time with you.” A voice rang through the room, it was softer than it had been hours before. Chuuya was shocked when the woman who’d offered him a bottle of wine stepped through the door of the meeting room: Her white pantsuit had been traded for a black jumpsuit that covered every inch of her form, neck to feet, not leaving any crevice of skin to be seen. She was more rigid than she’d been, her shoulders tense as if relaying a sense of power, but her (E/C) eyed stare was far more gentle. “Did you enjoy your wine, Chuuya?”

“You- you?!” His hands harshly met the long table as he shot from his chair, utter disbelief coursing throughout his body as he watched her stand there. She seemed innocent, holding papers against her chest as Mori placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her to the open seat at the opposite end of the table. “What the hell! You didn’t think to tell me you were a part of the mafia.”

“As of last night I had no information on you or your relations within the mafia.” Mori leaned and whispered several words into her ear, soft spoken so as to not allow anyone else to hear. She responded with a simple nod and a smile twisted its way onto his boss's lips. “When Ogai requested me to return here I was told of our partnership. I’m happy to be working with you, Chuuya Nakahara. May our relations be affluent for both parties.”

This was a different woman than who he’d spoken with at the bar during the evening: She was sharp and witted without a wavering will, just by her earlier stance you could see that she knew she was well-acquitted with strength. It was as though the fun loving lady who’d stolen his hat had merely been a jest. Mori returned to her side and set a plate before her, beside the papers she'd brought with her, its content was a simple slice of cake. Her eyes which held a great deal of softness widened and a smile replaced the confident, thin-lipped look she had.

“You spoil me Ogai! A chocolate cake from Ms.Young’s bakery, how deliciously expensive a treat.” She took a bite of it, eyes twinkling with satisfaction as the treat nearly melted upon contact with her tongue. “Now that I’ve exchanged my pleasantries, I believe it’s time for us to get to business.”

[ohmygodtheywereparabatai]

CONTINUED FROM!!

Nose is back to the Zhaang grindstone! @theboyfrommakapu let me borrow their tough little nut Mizuki, and as 2021 can and should be the year of Dad!Zhao (and Flame was instrumental in the effort ✨)... 

—

Aang bent the cord around his finger, waiting, in much moroseness, for the line to answer.

“Chief Beifong speaking.” A soft chuckle peppered the other end. “Did you know I’ve started tapping into the wires? Copper, silver - they run all over the place, tingle a little when someone flips a switch. I can almost tell you’re nervous, Twinkle Toes. Quit fiddling with the cord.”

How did she...?

Nevermind. Toph’s abnormally dense interconnection with the world would prove useful another time.

“I...” Aang cut to brass tacks. “I lost him.”

“What?” -a creaking desk, then a stern officer folding over the cheeky old- “When? His bending’s diddly-squat in the surface world. Isn’t that what you told me?”

“I know, I know. It was-”

“Don’t expect my men to find your prized fossil and return it to the Zei Museum. You’re the one who begged me to keep this under wraps.”

He squeezed in a smile, hoping to feign confidence. “I wouldn’t pain you with the paperwork, Toph. Besides, it’s out of our hands. Bumi’s handling it. Well, he worded it differently, but... he promised the search would be short. In the meantime, just - keep an eye out, will you?”

“Aang.” The voice turned from scratchy to uncomfortably firm, clear as if she were right behind him. “You said he wasn’t dangerous. Now you’ve got top-notch eel hounds on his scent.”

You had better expect a visit, were her last regards. The line snapped shut, leaving him with a limp cord and heavier phone than when he’d dailed.

Aang shifted, lips tightly pursed before the air was sucked out of him in a groan. “Monkey feathers...”

—

Trees.

For a handful of miles offshore where he’d dragged his weight off a humble boat, lower half caked, gritty, and buried to the soles in sand - trees.

It was a relief.

The city was a noose. Like he could sense its tailspin out of trajectory as the safe haven of the world risen from the four nations… now a reeking, hot swamp.

Not of smell - of lost souls. The indebted, distressed, heartbroken, restless. Even a switch sent ripples. He heard enough from his own mind.

Climbing over a rock as the wind rustled and sun warmed his hands (oh, how the sun felt on his skin) Zhao found his urgency suddenly depleted. He was well inland, well surrounded to muffle the thick of civilization.

The sun’s touch grew cooler by the time he sorted out the dissonance; someone had been weeping - the lights were too bright - traffic had blared and their shrieking carried over. It was a noise he expected to see printed in the… called the… newspaper, if Zhao could be so bothered.

He finally stirred when a faint ringing sharpened to a painful, yet balanced point - smoothed to exude an artful control. In the whirlwind settled one thought:

Fire.

He fumbled out of the way (apparently so inert that a mistaken frog squirrel scampered off his chest) just as an arrow planted in his sleeve.

Zhao yanked it out on the third tug. Before his senses were aligned he was sprinting for cover, because if nothing kicked in, training did - the fletching provided the revered accuracy and spin of the fire swan… to the extent of his years, found nowhere else.

If only training brokered with his physical state and found some hidden reservoir of adrenaline. Compared to feet gracing the treetops and sailing within range in seconds, he was a leaf trying to escape a stone. His shoes dunked in creek water, turned nonsense corners to bewilder the immovable upon him. Arrows plunged in Zhao’s trail - the first one hadn’t pierced him.

It could have, easily.

So, at least one person in the world preferred him alive-

The denounced admiral lost his head start; his ears pricked at the ripping of a seam before his back lodged to a tree. “No—!” He was their pin cushion before he could recognize the grate of bark.

A group of less than dozen descended from the canopy, their focus as deathly still as Zhao was forced to hold - nocked like the bow, even now. Then the leader swung down in front of him, ten steps short of her squad.

Lithe. Tightly bound hair. Unsettlingly familiar eyes.

“Pathetic. No wonder you were the last candidate for the Natural Leadership Award.” The what? “It went to Admiral Tung - he couldn’t start a fire without his hands.”

He must have stared in a way that made their distance transparent. Her frown aged her, too much.

“What’s the blue smear on your forehead?”

No answer. The archer struck him over the temple, hard; the resulting darkness wasn’t as merciful as to be dreamless.

—

… Two hours before the commander made landfall, he served (against his will) as a conduit for the last ten decades, lobes picked clean.

The encampment was secluded, scattered in the trees with stuffed straw rooted in rows. Arrows that had pierced already split targets, embers in the dark where game was strung over pits. Somewhere over the treetops was the crash of indolent waves.

Zhao would have made his peace with the circumstances if it weren’t for the rope affixing him to a tent’s post and the incessant girl.

An ambush squad; the leader seemed to be convinced Zhao was so ancient that he hailed from Szeto’s time. Or she was mocking him. At this point, he had a sinking feeling he wasn’t as well-preserved as the Avatar led him to believe. The Spirit World reject’s head pounded. How was he tracked this far?

“Were you eligible for the land grants after Minister Szeto’s relief fund was exceeded by thousands of ban? Did you move to the islands? Do you have family there still?”

“I’ve never-”

Her brows settled knowingly. “Ah, so you were one of the needy who joined the warring clans to survive. Did Szeto show you mercy? Did he use Firelord Yosor’s stamp and feed your hungry for months?”

“No! I was-”

“You’ve never stood in his presence?”

“I haven’t, I don’t plan to, and unless you have some sort of incentive I’ll resist throwing myself at the Avatar’s feet and begging him to contact his however-many-past-lives so you’ll shut your mouth.”

“Ai,” her lip twitched, “Grandfather Zuko did that already. Szeto was busy tallying entries in the spirit world on his famous abacus. Did you know? It was carved from-”

“I did not!” He snapped, and until his thoughts caught up with him, Zhao was just short of fuming. He heard it then - and balked.

“G… Grandfather?” His eyes flickered, the weight of the crown steeping the room like a tea prepared with lead. The archer blinked innocently, folded forward on her stoop. “Who are you?” Zhao demanded.

“I think you know.” She stood up, stretching idly. He was no threat - not to the Yuyan, not to a princess. “You talk in your sleep. Almost confessed to putting thorns in Uncle Aang’s shoes. Other than that, dragons, Firelords… my father. How do you know so much?” The archer muttered to the side, “and so little…”

Maybe he should run from the island more often. Next time he could shake hands with the president. “I didn’t- wasn’t aware… you were…”

But he did see things, didn’t he? For the same reason he’d fled the city, and the Avatar’s tour of the park backfired before he could point out his favorite birds in the trees.

Zhao, at least, could figure where he’d seen those eyes.

The same boy who reached out when he could have let him fall - the same old man who’d tried to guide him from a spiraling path. Wise in ways the all-powerful Firelord was not. Strangely, his lips moved on their own.

“He does care.” Zhao’s arms were chafed and mosquitos had taken to vintage blood like a honeypot - what did he care, for one? “You don’t have to believe me. I’m not the Knowledge Spirit - now that one was a pain in the ass - but you heard it from me, and I know what I know. He… is fond. Of you.”

Finally… a moment of quiet. Though it pressed like a blunt tip to his pulse.

Her resemblance wasn’t striking, not in the sense of royalty Zhao had known. The girl’s hair was lighter, her features sharp to a gentler fault - and no one capable of the royals’ level of skill would choose a bow over raw fists.

“Who?” The princess’s voice turned severe.

The bygone soldier blinked. “I think you know.”

She looked affronted, or twice as curious - stormed from the tent with the blazing corona of esteem and shaken pride dimming like her steps. The Yuyan were rumored to be silent as the spirits… Suppose some things made you mortal, made inescapably of flesh and burden.

Ages had passed since Zhao was in such a presence. He’d forgotten the family of condensed sunlight - forgotten his mission and how low he bowed at their feet.

He almost unconsciously straightened when she re-entered later with ease, a mask pinned tightly over the face that beamed in recitation of Szeto’s legacy. What’s wrong? Zhao wanted to mouth (before recoiling at his own instinct).

A tall, middle-aged man bolstered by boots and a shining coat ducked in suit. Instead of lowering a distasteful greeting on a lowly captive, he cracked a wide smile. “Got your steps in?”

“I haven’t seen Dad in such knots to find someone since Kya lost her lop-eared bunny. Hell-raisers,” he chuckled, “what can you do but keep an eye on them?”

The princess’s eyes narrowed, twin points tensed on a bowstring by themselves. Zhao swallowed.

“Uh… your daughter - was good company.”

Commander, Firelord - he acted like neither! - slid his hands in his pockets as men brushed past, hauling Zhao off his legs as blood rushed to receive him. A sideways wink was his answer, and while it baffled the Yuyan’s catch of the day, it bounced right off his child. How couldn’t she know she was adored? The commander gave off delight in overwhelming, sunny waves.

The Avatar’s son?

… Made sense.

Zhao’s hand slipped from under the soldiers’ hold, motioning with his fingers; a short goodbye, if anything. The young archer didn’t so much as glance over.

To think he’d set out to find quiet… He wanted to seek out the loudest voice he’d met since.

[westmoor]

voices from within (a post-halloween special)

(other parts can be found here)

Following the success of his latest novel, Jaskier accompanies Geralt to fulfill a contract. He only hopes to get some sounds on tape, film some furniture moving, get his name out there and maybe catch the start of a new story - but some houses are haunted by more than just the ghosts of former residents.

---

“Oh.” Jaskier’s voice barely rang above a breath. “Oh, it’s gorgeous.” For a moment he stood staring up at the building that was to shelter him for the next twenty-four hours, until the slamming of the driver’s side door snapped him out of it and he turned. “Geralt-”

Geralt only hummed his assent. It was impressive, stately even: When Jaskier had referred to it as a castle, it wasn’t far from the truth. 

Wide and squared and two storeys tall, brick painted a light creamy beige offset by dark brown, a dozen arched lattice windows gleamed in the afternoon light. Had he believed houses had personality he might’ve said this one looked friendly, inviting.

“What do you think?” Blue eyes twinkled at him, clearly pleased. “Do you like it? Think it will meet our expectations?”

He didn’t. He was decidedly less excited than his counterpart by what awaited them, and truth be told he would’ve preferred not to be there at all - or rather, preferred for Jaskier not to be there. It was a rule of his, one he’d reinforced after they had gotten together. He did not allow humans near his line of work.

But the novelist, after the success of the initial story featuring a Witcher, had been the one contacted about the job and had even brokered the contract, holding it over Geralt’s head until they had reached a compromise. He would be given free reign to do what he needed for the night, gather whichever so-called supernatural evidence and material he required, as long as he followed direction and kept a safe distance when told to. He had until dawn.

Still, Geralt couldn’t help the sneaking feeling of foreboding lurking at the back of his mind.

So no, he didn’t like it. He didn’t like the way it loomed behind the lean figure of his partner, deceptively calm, crouched like a beast lying in wait.

Geralt was saved from the attempt to voice his concerns - as brash as his boyfriend could be, he was remarkably perceptive - by a second car pulling in behind theirs.

No outside involvement had been another one of Geralt’s demands, triggering a tirade of protests from Jaskier, who in turn had argued that he couldn’t possibly cover the necessary ground on his own. Not within such a short time frame.

Unable to move his witcher, that particular settlement had eventually been perched on a technicality: No outsiders would join their so-called expedition.

How Jaskier had been able to get hold of Lambert and Eskel, much less convinced them both to join in, Geralt would never know.

Sneaky bastard.

Watching his brothers emerge from the car and approach them, however, he felt the restless beast in his chest subdued. Jaskier drew trouble like a spoonful of sugar drew wasps, but surely even he couldn’t manage to put himself in too much danger, not with three pairs of seasoned witcher eyes at his back.  

Rounding the silver hood of the vehicle, Eskel nodded at Geralt and extended a hand in friendly greeting to Jaskier. The two of them had only briefly met but hit it off immediately, which wasn’t too surprising - anyone with the sense not to balk at his scars would find the older wolf to be good company. 

Still waters run deep though, and his brothers knew better than anyone what it would take for a stranger to work through the layers of Eskel’s polite facade and earn real trust. Luckily for all of them, Jaskier’s openness and frank speech - verbose but earnest - had battered at it in much the same way as he’d broken down Geralt’s own walls.

Lambert, on the other hand - 

“Thought you said this place had ghosts, or whatever.” His hands were buried as deep in his pockets as they would go. “Are we going to go find some, or just stand out here until we join them? I’m freezing my tits off.”

Lambert was an acquired taste.

Jaskier didn’t seem perturbed in the slightest, and eagerly grasped the incentive to get moving. Within moments he had ushered them all up the double stone steps with an authority that probably wasn’t appropriate for a young man to direct at three monster-hunting mutants twice his size, but seemed entirely natural to him. 

Geralt thanked his lucky stars that neither brother commented on the quickening of his heartbeat.

---

If the exterior was impressive, the interior was overwhelming.

Heavy oak doors swung open on well-oiled hinges and they were led through to a lounging area, masterfully decorated to reflect the wealth and status of its original owners, walls practically dripping with frames illustrating its rich history. Past cushioned chairs, rococo sofas and tables on spindly legs, a grand staircase twisted up to the second floor, banister continuing along an interior balcony wrapping around the entrance from above. Beyond, rows of pearly white doors and pastel hallways would carry them into the heart of the manor.

Crossing the threshold felt like stepping through time. Despite the electric lights and vague distant hum of heating units, each piece in sight was as close to original as could be hoped for, selected and maintained with utmost care. 

But there was something else, too. Not so much a smell as a breath, an unmistakable lingering of things long lost.

Neither witcher voiced it, though they all clearly noticed - eyes skimming walls and nostrils flaring momentarily before they discerned what couldn’t be pinned down.

Jaskier slipped seamlessly into the role of the enthusiastic guide, throwing tidbits and details left and right while introducing the trio to the building’s past and present characters. His brothers exchanged glances at the shift in demeanour, but Geralt remained unfazed. He knew the writer hadn’t stumbled into his profession by chance, but lived and breathed for such occasions. Be it in speech or in prose, he was a born narrator.

What followed was a thorough tour of every notable room, nook, and cranny, all with a performative flair and tinged with what Jaskier referred to as reported phenomenons. Geralt hung back. He had already heard the broad strokes of it, but listened nonetheless, the added structure and dulcet tone of his lover’s voice crafting it into a proper story. 

The other two were paying the attention of hearing it for the first time, and his mind revived the question of how they’d been convinced to join in the first place. He might end up having to ask.

Though Jaskier was an entertaining host - and only got them lost twice - an hour had come and gone by the time they completed their loop and found themselves back at the top of the staircase.

“Now, gentlemen!” Clapping his hands, their guide halted in front of one of the large white doors. One, Geralt noted, they hadn’t opened yet. “If you would so kindly help bring in the equipment and start setting up for the night…” His lips quirked in that mischievous way at least one of them had come to know all too well. “I’ve saved the best for last.”

A lesser man would have succumbed to Lambert’s baiting comments and Geralt’s glare, but Jaskier’s penchant for dramatics could weather any storm. 

Only once the car had been emptied of gear and devices, wires stretched and screens installed, and after he’d procured a sturdy meal for his companions through a particularly scared-looking pizza delivery person, were they allowed back near the second floor landing.

“I want to look everything over one more time before we start recording, and maybe move another cam down to the first floor. The maid’s quarter is said to be particularly reliable, lots of people claim to have heard voices - lullabies even - between 3 and 4am.”

It was Eskel, who so far had been the most amenable of the group and asked only the most practical questions, that finally raised the issue that had crawled steadily closer to the surface as they worked. “This seems like a pretty big contract for a few disembodied voices.”

“Ah.” Jaskier’s grin grew wide. “But we’ve only scratched the surface so far. “

“In here,” he tapped the great door behind him, “lies the heart of this little castle, the grand salon, where the original owners would entertain guests. Basically the entire staff claims to have heard sounds coming from here. Music, clinking glass, the clamour of voices, as if there’s a party taking place, dragging well into the night. But when they open the door and look inside…” He snapped his fingers. “Nothing! Dark and abandoned, quiet as a grave.”

“If the claims are true, this is where it all began. There was an accident, you see, a real tragedy, one that cost the master of the house - a mister Lamm - and all six of his sons their lives. His widow, Dora, unable to let go and half mad with grief, prayed day and night to be reunited with her husband and to see her family again. But when religion failed her, as it’s wont to do, she cast her net wider, and gathered every prominent mystic and occultist of her time to aid her quest.”

Geralt stepped closer, the crux of their stay finally about to be revealed to his brothers, who were following the recounting with rapt attention.

“And she succeeded in bringing them back. Not to life, perhaps, but the halls were filled with children’s laughter and the sounds of running footsteps once again. Dora is said to have sat up nightly, listening, speaking to them until dawn. Only, it wasn’t the only thing they brought along.”

Eskel nodded, an idea of which road the story was about to go down, but waited for the man to continue.

“Now, I don’t know that I believe everything -” 

Lambert snorted, earning a sharp elbow to the side.

“- but according to mediums and other visitors who’ve stayed here over the years, the house is open somehow. Like a friction point worn thin. Supposedly whatever leaks through serves as a sort of battery for the rest - the knocking, the voices, the singing - but it’s not just that, either.”

Jaskier’s voice lowered a note as he dropped the theatrical edge, turning serious. “Previous employees say it… changes people. Makes them ill, triggers things. Makes them say and do things and behave in ways they otherwise wouldn’t. Most don’t stay very long. Others won’t leave, even after their employment is terminated.”

“The current owner wants it shut, whatever it is,” Geralt interjected. 

If Jaskier was annoyed at having his flow broken, it didn’t show, and he smoothly picked back up. “And that’s why we’re here! By morning, thanks to Geralt’s ministrations, this place should be as devoid of any spiritual activity as any regular old heap of rocks, and I want to catch it before it goes.”

Silence fell over the group.

“That’s it?” Lambert looked at Jaskier, brows raised. Then at Geralt, and back at Jaskier, who nodded affirmatively. He shrugged. “Okay. Fun.”

Geralt released a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, and Jaskier leaned up to the door. 

“Well then, friends, if you’re ready!” He flicked the lock, before stepping back and turning to Geralt, features seeped in expectation. 

“Darling, would you do the honours?”

[geekprincess26]

Four Weddings and a Blizzard: Chapter 5

My Day 6 (and final, because it’s only an hour and 15 minutes before the premiere starts) entry in the Jonsa Season 7 Summer Challenge.  I chose the “Music” theme.  A huge THANK YOU to @jonsa-creatives for hosting this amazing event and giving me the incentive to complete another Jonsa fanfic!

Sansa Stark married Jon Snow nine months after Rickon’s wedding.  It was the first day of spring, but a fierce blizzard swept out of the north just as the ceremony began.  Snowflakes swirled around the stained-glass windows of the historic church and cast ethereal beams of light on the pews and white-carpeted aisle.  Sansa grinned as she took her last glance through the windows adorning the foyer where she and her father stood waiting for Arya, the maid of honor, to reach the altar.

The Sansa who had stared at the stained-glass windows during Robb’s wedding so long ago had dreamed of marrying in an art museum, or perhaps the St. Paul Cathedral, at the height of summer; and at the center of it all she had imagined herself in a bejeweled ball gown and surrounded by bridesmaids in identical yellow chiffon gowns carrying red roses.  But that Sansa had wanted a long engagement and a marriage to Joffrey Baratheon, and both ideas seemed equally ridiculous to her now.  In any case, the brief length of her engagement had sent Jon scrambling to his friend Sam Tarly, the church’s pastor, to snag it as their venue, and sent Sansa and her family scrambling to the Mall of America and the nearest Michaels to get cloth, candles, beads, and everything else the bride-to-be needed in order to craft her own wedding decorations.  There was no time to order custom-made dresses; so Sansa had told her bridesmaids to select the champagne-colored gowns of their choice and bought a sample gown for herself in the second bridal salon she had visited.  It was all very rushed; but Sansa had grinned madly the first time she saw the diverse assortment of bridesmaids’ dresses next to her own and thought she could never have imagined such a beautiful arrangement if she had planned it herself.  She had hummed every evening as she had assembled decorations out of the very non-uniform assortment of beads and ribbons she and her family had managed to snag at the store.  Her humming had turned to singing, and Jon had often crept up behind her to take her in his arms and hum along with her.  His voice was never quite on-key, but Sansa never cared, especially when he would slowly turn her body into his arms and begin kissing her, which made her knees buckle and her mind forget about everything but Jon’s strong arms and passionately tender kisses and and whispers of I love you, Sansa Stark.

That, Sansa reflected now as she grinned even more widely, was probably why she and her family members had been up until 2:00 on the morning of the rehearsal dinner finishing the decorations.  Ned Stark turned to look at his daughter and shook his head.

“You’re the first one of my children with fewer tears than me on their wedding day,” he said, but his trembling voice belied his light tone.  He opened his mouth to continue, but instead shook his head again and bent to kiss her cheek.

“I’m your rebel, I guess, Dad,” Sansa whispered back, and suddenly her own voice started to quiver.  “I’m not getting married in the summer or in Wisconsin.  Or in the sun.”  She inclined her head toward the snow pounding against the nearest window, a tiny opening covered by a glass depiction of a blue rose against a gray background studded with clear, sparkling snowflakes.  “And I’m not twenty-four years old, like everybody else.”

Ned Stark kissed his daughter’s cheek again.  “Your husband was worth waiting a lot more than twenty-four years for,” he said gruffly, and tears blurred Sansa’s vision.  She leaned her head onto his shoulder and felt him kiss her briefly on the forehead before she straightened, adjusted her bouquet of white roses, and watched the ushers open the double wooden doors in front of her.

In the weddings created by Sansa’s fancy years ago, she smiled at her groom warmly, but not too soppily; and she teared up a bit, but did not actually cry.  Now, the moment the doors opened, tears began pouring down her cheeks, which were split nearly in two by the most utterly foolish grin Sansa had ever worn.  She cried when her father placed her head into Jon’s, and she cried as Sam began the wedding sermon.  Jon’s own eyes were suspiciously wet, and he kept reaching over to thumb the tears gently off of her cheeks.  So neither of them noticed the murmur that spread among the guests seated at the front of the church five minutes or so into the message.  Neither, in fact, noticed any sign of trouble until Catelyn Stark’s yelp brought both of them turning sharply to see Edd Tollett, Jon’s friend and groomsman, fainting dead away into the arms of a very startled Robb, who had been standing next to him.  Sam stopped speaking at once, and he did not continue until Edd had been roused and helped out of the room by Jon’s friends Tormund Giantsbane and Davos Seaworth to a round of applause from the entire room.  He made a joke about the building’s overly enthusiastic heating system before continuing, but his jest had more merit than Sansa had thought, for not five minutes later, Rickon swayed and collapsed.  Tormund caught him just in time, and Lyanna sprinted out of the room after them both.  Sansa felt Jon squeeze her hands, and she turned back to him at once.

“You all right?” he whispered in a voice so low that not even Sam heard it, and the smile returned to Sansa’s face, and she nodded.

“How about you?” she murmured; and the tender joy that lit Jon’s face was all the answer she needed.

Bran went pale and had to be wheeled out of the sanctuary by Meera right after Jon and Sansa had spoken their vows; but by then Edd, still pale, had returned, and Sam paused the ceremony again while two of the ushers retrieved a chair from one of the back rooms and set it on the dais so he could take back his place by Robb’s side.  They repeated the same procedure for Rickon, who re-entered the sanctuary right before the exchanging of the rings; and Meera wheeled Brank back in just in time for Sam to pronounce Jon and Sansa husband and wife.  Before he had time to finish instructing Jon to kiss his bride, the latter had thrown his arms around her and kissed her senseless.  Loud whoops punctuated their march up the aisle; but Sansa only giggled with happiness.

The wind howled more fiercely as the evening went on, and snowflakes piled merrily around the hotel where the reception was held.  All three of the afflicted groomsmen had recovered enough to initiate round after round of glass clinking during the dinner, and they needled Jon when he kissed his wife thoroughly each time.  They teased even more mercilessly when the deejay announced the first dance, although Sansa merely rolled her eyes and informed them that she would not expect any of them to appreciate her husband’s excellent taste in music.  Jon, a long-term Nickelback fan, grinned and kissed her in appreciation as the band’s “Far Away” played over the hall’s speakers.  When the chorus started, his smile widened, and so did Sansa’s, and they sang the words to each other:

I love you; I have loved you all along. I’ve missed you; Been far away for far too long.

When the second verse began, Jon pulled his wife in for a gentle kiss.  Sansa returned it a little less gently, and their lips spent most of the rest of the song connected.

“Oh, God, get a room,” Arya muttered over the whoops of the groomsmen as the two departed the dance floor.  Sansa stuck out her tongue.

Time whirled away along with the snowflakes, and Sansa whirled happily across the dance floor.  Jon had never been much of a dancer, but he could not stop beaming in any case.  Only when Jon twirled Sansa near the corner of the floor during a waltz did an enthusiastic argument between Rickon and Gendry snap out of their reverie.

“What’s all that about?” Sansa asked Robb when the dance was over.

Robb grinned.  “They made a bet,” he replied.  Sansa narrowed her eyes, but Robb took no notice.  “They’ve each been trying to talk the deejay into playing a different song.  They have to drink every time they fail.

Sansa, who had heard no deviations from the list she had gone over with the deejay, shook her head.  Jon grinned next to her.  “Which songs?” he asked.

Robb’s blue eyes twinkled.  “Gendry asked for ‘My Humps.’  Rickon picked ‘Baby Got Back.’”

Jon snorted, and Sansa grinned widely enough to outdo Robb.  “Oh, Lancel Lannister won’t play anything I told him not to,” she replied.  “I have way too much dirt on him from when we were at the U of M together.”

So she was not surprised when she heard Lyanna declaring loudly to her husband during the next dance that she could still drink him under the table and then have some more ale in their hotel room besides, and still dance better than he.  Sansa and Jon took one look at each other and began laughing.  They only laughed harder when they saw the silly grin on Gendry’s face as he swung Arya happily and sang her the words of Sonny and Cher’s “I Got You, Babe.”  Arya was shaking her head; but Sansa caught the mischievous glint in her eye as she and Jon sashayed past the two.  She snorted, and then snorted again when she saw Robb and Jeyne swaying in each other’s arms and kissing all the way across the dance floor next to Bran, who was whispering something to a blushing, giddy Meera.

“Oh, God,” she groaned.  “How much do you want to bet one of them conceives our next niece or nephew tonight?”

Jon only grinned.  “Maybe all four,” he said.  Sansa snorted again.  Then she bit her lip and fixed him with a devilish grin.

“How about we go all the way and make it five?” she suggested.  Jon’s answering grin was even more devilish than her own.

“I’m game if you are,” he said, and leaned down to whisper in her ear as the song ended, “I’ve got you, babe.”

Sansa blushed.

She blushed harder when Jon kissed her senseless in the corner during the next song.  She blushed even harder when the deejay announced the bride and groom’s departure, and squealed when Jon swept her up in his arms to carry her off the floor and into the hallway containing the elevator that led to the bridal suite.  And she felt her entire body flushing red when Jon set her down inside the elevator and began planting kisses down her neck and shoulder.  Once they reached the suite, Sansa, determined to give him back as good as she had gotten, proceeded to attack his lips with her own.

“This room’s even hotter than the church, dear,” she said when they finally drew back to catch their breath.  She wiggled her eyebrows at him.  “Do you mind helping me take off my dress?”

Jon’s eyes went a shade darker, and his answering hum had a distinct rumble to it.  Sansa grinned and turned her back to him.  She expected him to undo the zipper as quickly as he could; but instead he nibbled a trail of kisses from the base of her neck all the way down her spine.  They made Sansa hum and shiver, like the snowflakes kissing the windows of the suite; and by the time Jon lowered her dress carefully to the floor, she could barely step out of it due to her thighs rubbing each other in anticipation and delight.

“Your turn,” she rasped after kissing Jon deeply once again.  Her lips drew a long line of kisses down his chest as she unbuttoned his shirt, kisses punctuated by his groans of Sansa, Sansa, Sansa.  By the time she had flung his shirt to a far corner of the bed, his gray irises had turned nearly as dark as his pupils.  When he leaned over her to undo the straps of her lingerie, he pressed his mouth to her shoulders and neck over and over; and by the time he reached back to take her mouth, Sansa was groaning loudly, and she moaned Jon, Jon, Jon into his mouth as she opened her legs to wrap them tightly around his waist.

The snowflakes continued to fall, and the wind continued to howl; but their chill could not match the heat of Jon’s kisses trailing up and down his new wife’s body, and their wailing could not match the keening emanating from Sansa as that body writhed with pleasure, or the moans Jon hummed in concert into her neck.  Nor could snow or wind have hoped to shatter the tender gaze with which his gray eyes fixed his wife’s as Sansa gladly opened her lips and her body to fuse herself joyfully with her husband.  And neither howling nor chill could drown out the cries of ecstasy and love that mingled in air and across clutched hands and on warm, undulating flesh alike.  

After a time, the snow stopped falling, and the wind ceased howling, and husband and wife lay cradled in each other’s arms.  Jon stroked Sansa’s flushed cheek, and she ran a gentle hand through his sweaty curls.

“I suppose Arya should be happy now,” she whispered, a lazy grin on her face.

Jon reached over to kiss her forehead.  “Why is that, my love?” he murmured.

“Well,” Sansa replied, “she did tell Gendry after Rickon’s wedding that it had taken us long enough to get together.  And tonight, she did tell us to get a room.”  She wiggled her eyebrows at him, and Jon chuckled.  “And I have a few more plans for how we can use it this weekend.”

Jon reached up to brush a strand of hair off his wife’s face.  “And I intend to follow them all, love of my life,” he whispered, and planted a tender kiss on her lips.

[chocobroing]

Love in a Broken Place~Cor/OFC NSFW

Tagging: @themissimmortal, @ridingchocobros, @rubyphilomela, @unlimitedthotworks, @itshaejinju, @dirtyffxvconfession, @diabolik-trash-heap, @hypaalicious, @louisvuittontrashbags, @lady-asuka, @cupnoodle-queen, @nifwrites Warnings: sex, injuries, and general nsfw-ness ~~~ Jessica Carey didn’t know what to make of Cor Leonis. He never talked much of his past or anything else for that matter. She knew he was about twenty-three years older than she was and that he was part of the old Crownsguard of Lucis, but that was pretty much it. She helped patch him up a few times after his run-ins with some daemons, but still he never spoke to her. Back when the world was normal, Jessica would have classified him as a dark and twisty person. She knew she couldn’t judge him but he never opened up to anyone or let anyone know what he was thinking. The only time he ever spoke was at the meetings with the other daemon hunters and that was for business stuff. “Hey, Jess,” said Iris, coming in with Cor, who looked pretty banged up, “Cor got himself hurt again.” The blonde woman sighed and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Again, Cor?” she asked, giving him an arched eyebrow. The man huffed and rolled his eyes in irritation. He didn’t want to hear a lecture, it seemed. Instead, he sat down on the cot and waited for Jessica to fix him up for the umpteenth time. The woman sighed and shook her head as she began dabbing at his wounds with cleaning alcohol. Cor flinched because of the stinging but he didn’t shout at her like some of the others. Jessica knew he was called “Cor the Immortal” but he hated that moniker. It reminded him of the kings he failed to protect. As Jessica reached over to tie bandages around him, Cor noticed how the front of her loose shirt opened to reveal her white bra and ample cleavage. Cor’s primal side urged him to disengage her, take her to her room, and ravish her. Then, he mentally slapped himself for thinking such things. Maybe he had went so long not being with a woman and he was channeling his sexual frustration on the woman who was healing him. “Seriously, Cor,” said Jessica dryly, tying the gauze around his forearm, “you need to be more careful. You’re not twenty-five anymore.” He hummed in disinterest and gazed out the window at the permanent dark sky so he wouldn’t stare at her. He didn’t want to hear her comments about his injuries. He just wanted to be healed so he could go back and go on another hunting mission. When Jessica saw that he wasn’t listening, she decided to speak to Iris instead. “Iris, tell Cor that he needs to be more careful,” said the doctor to the younger woman. “I try,” said the dark-haired girl, shrugging, “but he’s the most stubborn person on Eos. He refuses to believe that he’s flesh and blood too.” Iris’s eyes seemed to burn a hole into Cor’s head. Jessica clicked her tongue and shook her head again in disapproval. “Honestly, it seems he’s fulfilling a suicide pact or something,” she said, ignoring the fact that the man in question was sitting right in front of her. “You know, he’s sitting right here,” said Cor coolly, his deep voice making his chest rumble. Iris smiled at his typically snarky response and decided to head back to Cid’s to get some rest. “Well, I’m gonna go back to Cid’s to get some sleep,” she said, heading towards the door. “Jessica, I leave Cor in your capable hands.” “Alright,” replied Jessica, smiling, showing off the dimples that Cor secretly loved. “Get some good rest, Iris, and be careful. Gladio would kill me if he knew that his sister got hurt from daemons.” “Don’t worry about me,” said Iris, puffing out her chest in pride. “I can take care of myself. Cor taught me how.” “Seeing that he’s here with a lot of wounds makes me worry even more.” The dryness in Jessica’s voice was scathing. Iris giggled and walked out the door with a wave of her hand, leaving the two older people alone. As soon as she was gone, Jessica resumed in bandaging Cor’s wounds, even stitching up a nasty cut on his forehead, and noticed that he still didn’t flinch. Was he so distracted that he was immune to pain? Honestly, it concerned her. “Hey, Cor, you okay?” she asked gently, stooping to look into his bright blue eyes. “I was kidding about Iris’s training, you know that, right? You are a great trainer and an even greater fighter. They should call you ‘Cor the Destroyer’.” She said the last sentence with a bit of humor in her voice. Cor didn’t seem amused at her attempt of humor. “Better than ‘Cor the Immortal’,” he said in a scathing tone, sounding angry with himself. “I failed to protect my king and the Crown City from those bastards. I outlive those I’m meant to protect, even the new king. I should be the one dead, not King Regis.” Jessica was shocked that Cor was finally saying something, even if it was something horrible about himself. “Don’t say that,” she said, keeping her tone even. “Noctis may still be alive. Just because he disappeared into the Crystal doesn’t mean he’s dead. He might come back some day and bring light back to the world.” Cor shook his head. “You’re too positive, Jessica,” he grumbled, looking and sounding grumpy. “Well, excuse me for trying to be optimistic,” she retorted, tears gathering in her eyes. “If I don’t believe in a bright future, then I don’t have a reason for living. I choose to believe that everything will be alright someday. Even though the daemons killed my family, I’m still determined to be positive. Cor, I’m holding myself together with tape and glue. I know my pain can’t compare to yours but I’m trying to survive. I have to be positive or I will go insane.” After she finished her little rant, tears rolled down her cheeks and her bottom lip quivered. Cor studied her with careful eyes. About two years ago when the darkness came, Jessica joined up with the daemon hunters when she was twenty-two years old, but she decided to be a medic instead of a fighter. She was in medical school when the dark days came and she had to fend for herself when the school was destroyed by daemons. She didn't even get to graduate because everything went to hell. She and her fellow students scattered and most went to live in Lestallum. She intended to go back to her hometown, which was now abandoned due to daemons, to find her family dying from wounds inflicted by monsters. She did everything she could to save them but their wounds were too extensive. After that, she packed up and joined with the daemon hunters, determined to save the lives of those who were damaged by daemons. She, like so many others, pretty much lost everything since the darkness came. “I’m sorry,” he finally said, softening his voice a bit. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.” “It’s fine,” she said dismissively, dashing her tears with the back of her hand. “Besides, I can’t live in the past. I need to look forward or I won’t survive.” Cor actually envied her optimism. He wished he could have faith to know that everything would be alright, but he couldn’t take anything on faith. However, he did find her happiness and jokes charming, but he would never admit it. He knew there was more to her than her body, but he couldn’t help but notice it. She had pretty decent-sized breasts, a slender waist, and long legs. Her blond hair went down to her shoulder blades and her dark brown eyes were very expressive and twinkled whenever she smiled. She was a head shorter than he was, but most of the women in the hunting group were. He liked seeing her blush when she smiled or made a joke. She was extremely pale but that was because she, like so many others, had not seen the sun in a long time. She actually joked that if she were a shade whiter she’d be a ghost. “You look very nice this evening,” he said quietly, trying to start a conversation. Jessica smiled again, showing off those cute dimples. “I’m wearing an old t-shirt and jeans, Cor,” she replied, trying not to laugh. “Is that your idea of flirting?” Cor’s cheeks filled with heat and he looked down at his knees, feeling totally embarrassed. “Gods, I’m an idiot,” he muttered under his breath. “It’s fine, Cor,” she said lightly, brushing off the discomfort. “I was only teasing you.” Cor got up from the cot and stood at his full height, towering over her. Jessica looked up at him, smiling, and patted him affectionately on the chest. When she was about to remove her hand, Cor covered it with his warm one, allowing her to feel his heartbeat. Now, it was Jessica’s turn to blush. What he did was a bit too intimate for her taste. “Cor…” Her soft voice trailed off and she looked everywhere but at him. He took that as an incentive and bent in to kiss her on the mouth. When he thought she would turn away, Jessica wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to his. Cor placed his hand on the back of her head, feeling her soft blond hair, and pulled her in to close the gap between them. The taste of her was intoxicating and her scent was driving him wild. He wanted more—more of her warmth, more of her touch, and more of her kisses. However, when he felt how smooth her skin was, he remembered how young she was and pulled back, feeling ashamed. “Cor?” Jessica’s breathless voice was full of suspicion. “Why did you stop?” His blue eyes were sharp on her brown ones. “Dammit, Jessica,” he snapped, “I’m too old for you. I’m forty-seven years old. You’re twenty-four. You’re too young for me.” She could see the agony in his eyes, though. “I don’t care,” she said, giving him a glare. “I’m old enough to make my own decisions, and I want this.” Cor didn’t want to hear that. “But are you prepared for the consequences of your choices?” he demanded, his blue eyes looking like daggers. Jessica nodded, wanting to be with him. “Yes,” she replied, reaching out to touch his stern face with tender hands. “Yes.” Unable to take it anymore, Cor roughly pulled her to his chest and slammed his lips to hers. Jessica could feel that he was bruising her lips but she didn’t care. He may have been rougher than her previous lover but she wanted him. She wanted to make him forget his worries, even if it was just for a little while. She ran her hands through his short brown hair and pulled his head closer to hers to close the gap between them. After a few seconds of kissing, Cor began trailing kisses down her jawbone and neck, not stopping until he reached her collarbone. A soft moan came from her lips and it made him burn. He lifted his hand and gently stroked her face, feeling the soft, supple skin. His hand trailed down her neck and over her slim shoulders, feeling the bones protrude from the skin. She was naturally bony so it explained why she looked so thin and tiny. His hands slid down her shoulders, over her arms, and clasped her gentle hands in his calloused ones. He pulled back from her and gazed her flushed face, seeing the desire clouding her eyes. Her lips were slightly bruised and trembling in a way that made him want to kiss her again. However, his self-control won the war and he led Jessica out of the room and into her bedroom, shutting the door behind them. As soon as Cor shut the door, he turned the light on and observed Jessica. He noticed that she seemed fidgety and nervous, like she wasn’t sure what to do. He knew she wasn’t inexperienced. He heard her tell Iris about her days in college and how she met a guy she really liked, leading up to painful first-time sex. Jessica said that it was so painful and awkward that she shunned the thoughts of sex and dove into her work. Cor wanted to make her remember this night as the best of her life. “Take off your clothes,” he ordered in a husky tone, sounding like the marshal she knew he was. Swallowing deeply, Jessica started by pulling her jeans down and letting them gather at her ankles. She kicked them off and lifted her shirt over her head, tossing it over to the corner of the room. Carefully, she unclipped her bra with shaky hands and slid it off her body, revealing her pale orbs to him. They were full and perky, topped with a pink nipple on each orb, and absolutely hypnotizing. Taking a deep breath, Jessica pulled her panties down to reveal her dark blond curls to him, feeling a bit vulnerable. She hadn’t felt this self-conscious since having to change for gym classes in high school. What if she wasn’t hot enough for him? She knew she was moderately pretty but she was nothing like Cindy or Iris. They were beautiful and she felt rather plain next to them. “W-well?” she finally said, her voice soft and shaky with nerves. Cor’s bright blue eyes darkened and he felt the crotch of his pants get tight. “You look gorgeous,” he said in a seductive purr of a voice—one Jessica had never heard before. “You look like an angel, untouchable, porcelain. I’m almost afraid to touch you. I don’t want you to break.” Jessica knew that sounded very sexy but she also knew that he didn’t want to hurt her. He wanted to protect her the way he couldn’t protect the Caelum kings. She felt pity for him. She wanted him to feel peace, even if it were only for one night. Plucking up the courage, she walked up to him and placed a consoling hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. “Cor,” she whispered lovingly, her eyes gentle. “You don’t need to be afraid to touch me. I won’t break and I won’t disappear. You can hold me if you want. I want you to.” Cor nodded, considering her words. “There’s one thing I want to do before we start,” he said, eyes roving her body as if trying to memorize it. “I want to touch your skin, to keep you etched in my mind. May I?” He gestured towards her, needing permission. “Of course,” she murmured, standing stock-still. Without saying a word, Cor reached out and touched her soft skin with his fingertips, noticing how young and supple her body felt under his touch. His hands were gentle, methodical, as if he was memorizing every curve and crevice of her form. The touch on her skin made her feel hot with desire. His fingers drifted over her nipples and her back arched involuntarily, breathing heavily with desire. He ignored her reaction and continued his touch down her stomach and moved up her back, caressing her shoulder blades. Then, he moved his touch to her legs and felt that they were smooth and strong. He guided her to her bed and sat her down before moving his touch to her inner legs. When his fingertips brushed the sensitive skin, she jolted, feeling that warmth in her stomach again. “Oh, dear,” he murmured, staring at the apex of her legs where her opening was. “You’re drenched.” Jessica flushed, knowing it was impossible to deny it. She could feel the sheets getting wet and her inner legs started to get moist and sticky. She bowed her head, feeling shame for looking so vulnerable. “Don’t be embarrassed,” said Cor, causing her to look up at him. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s natural for a woman to feel this way when she’s aroused.” Before Jessica could ask him to elaborate, Cor was on his knees and his face was an inch or two away from her opening. His warm breath hitting her wet entrance lit a fire within her. Suddenly, his lips were on her opening and he began licking and tasting her, careful to swipe every sensitive area. A loud moan came from her mouth and her hands dug into his hair. It was hard for her to grip Cor’s hair because he kept it very short so she had to grab the sheets. Cor ate her out in a way that she’d never experienced before. Her body jolted in pleasure and her back arched under his skillful tongue. Jessica’s body surged and she fell onto her back, giving him better access. Cor devoured her, his tongue disappearing into her folds, and threatened to suffocate her in bliss. A shaky hand went to the back of his head and she dug her fingernails into his scalp. She cried out and tears of bliss ran down her cheeks as she felt her climax approaching like a tidal wave. “Cor!” she shouted, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. “Please! Oh, Six! It feels so good!” Cor smirked against her as he continued eating her, licking up every part of her wetness. Her hips began to tremble and heat filled her stomach. This was it, she realized. This was her orgasm coming. Her head fell back and she let out a scream so strident that it could have broken the windows. She released into his mouth, coating his lips and tongue with her benediction. He swallowed it up and licked up the remainders of her juices as she fell back trying to catch her breath. As soon as she was clean, Cor pulled back to look up at her to see if she was okay. Her face was bright red, tears were running down her cheeks, and her hair was a tangled mess. By the gods of Eos, she looked so beautiful! He wanted this mental picture in his mind for the rest of his life. He stood up and placed a hand on her damp cheek, wiping a tear away. “Are you okay, Jess?” he asked gently, stroking some of her hair back from her face. “I-I’m fine,” she stammered, her lower jaw quivering. “T-that was incredible.” Cor smiled at the compliment. “Move to the middle of the bed,” he commanded softly. With shaking limbs, Jessica got up and moved a few feet to lay her head on the pillow. She watched as Cor stripped down, memorizing each line and muscle that came into view. He had some scars on his sinewy chest, which told the story of his past in Crownsguard, and her gaze lowered down to see he had abs. They weren’t as pronounced as Gladio’s but they were visible and it made her hot with desire. She looked at his strong arms, muscular from fighting and training, and wondered what it would feel like to wrapped in them. Finally, she watched as he took his boots and socks off and he pulled his pants down, revealing his black boxers. With a deep breath, he pulled his boxers down to reveal his hardened manhood and watched Jessica for her reaction. Jessica had a contemplative look on her face and her eyebrows rose. It made him a bit nervous that she wasn’t making any comments. Did she not like it? “Impressive,” she finally said, her voice a seductive purr. “I didn’t know you had that hiding under those pants. I just wonder how you run with that something that big between your legs.” Cor’s arousal piqued when he heard her comments and he knew he had to sink himself inside of her before he lost his mind. Gently, he opened her legs, settled between them, and bent down to capture her lips with his. He took his manhood and guided it into her warm cavern, sinking into her with a soft grunt. Jessica let out a keening noise and she wrapped her arms around his neck, opening her legs wide to accommodate him. She rested her head on the pillow and nodded to give him the okay. He wasted no time to thrust into her, starting a steady rhythm that made her body surge against his, and he began slamming into her, showing her no mercy. Normally, he would have started out gentle but he was too overcome with lust and desire to slow his pace down. He let his senses guide him and listened to each cry she made to judge his performance. Every time she made a sound, he moved to improve his abilities to pleasure her. The sound of her cries only made him desire her even more. He wanted her to come around him. It may have been primal but it would do him so much pleasure if he made her come. Cor could feel her inner walls strangling his member in her tight heat and found it difficult for him to thrust deeply. He grunted with every thrust, keeping his pace harsh and brutal as he worked to get her to come. Jessica’s nails dug into his back and bit into his skin, but he refused to show that he felt it. They could patch up the scratches later. Right now, he just wanted her to feel the bliss of release. Cor lifted Jessica’s leg so it rested on his shoulder and used it as leverage to thrust deeper into her. She cried out, arching her back, and tears of joy ran down her cheeks as she felt her release coming. Cor’s thrusts grew a bit chaotic and she knew that he was close, but not as close as she was. Finally, it happened. Her back arched and her body stiffened as she let out a loud scream, her nails breaking the skin of Cor’s back. Her abdomen went very warm and her liquids drenched his member. “Cor!” she cried, still in the throes of ecstasy. “Cor! Please! Please! So good!” Cor smirked and he released her leg, letting it slide off his shoulder and lay boneless on the bed. Jessica whimpered as the last of her release made her tremble and she collapsed onto the bed, feeling spent. However, Cor wasn’t done yet. He gripped onto her tightly and kept thrusting into her to achieve his release. Her nerves were raw and her inner walls were still sensitive from releasing so it made it easier for her release again and again. “Cor…” she wept, digging her fingers into the sheets. “I can’t anymore…I don’t know how much more I can take…” “I know, baby,” he said, his voice rough from desire and exertion. “I’m almost there.” “I’m gonna break!” she cried, her bottom lip quivering. “I’ll protect you,” he growled, stroking her blissed-out face. The big one finally came and she released it, sobbing and shaking. She scratched up Cor’s back some more and her body moved with his as she drenched his member again. Her back arched uncontrollably and tears of bliss ran down her cheeks, staining the pillow case of the pillow her head rested on. Cor held her tightly as she went through her orgasm and kissed her deeply to capture her cries of joy into his mouth. As she began to relax, Cor’s release came and he sprayed his hot seed into her, grunting and groaning her name. He held her in a protective embrace as she milked his release with a content sigh of joy. Cor groaned into her neck when he felt her hot inner walls take in his come with gusto. He felt as if a giant weight had been lifted from his shoulders and his body relaxed when he finally finished his climax. “Gods, I love you, Jessica,” he moaned as he pulled out of her. He collapsed onto the bed, his back hitting the mattress, and tried to catch his breath. Weariness filled his every muscle and he closed his eyes. Jessica rolled over onto her side and snuggled up next to him, resting her head on his chest and listening to his heartbeat. After a few minutes of listening to Cor breathing, Jessica smiled and was lulled to sleep by his gentle pulse. “I love you too, Cor,” she whispered just as she slipped into a wonderful slumber. … The sound of the phone ringing roused Cor from his restful sleep and he dove for his pants to answer it. He pulled it out of his right pocket and saw that Gladio was calling. He had to answer or else the tatted man might think he died fighting daemons. He pressed the ‘talk’ button and placed the device to his ear. “Gladio, what is it?” he asked quietly, trying not to wake Jessica up. “Where are you?” demanded Gladio, his worry manifesting in anger. “We’ve been trying to contact you for the past eight hours. We thought you died or something!” “Gladio, calm down,” said Cor, keeping his voice calm even though he was a bit annoyed by Gladio’s heckling. “I’m at Jessica Carey’s house. I’m fine.” “Why were you there for eight hours?” asked Gladio, sounding suspicious. Cor’s face went red. “That’s none of your business, Gladiolus,” he replied stiffly, hoping that he didn’t betray how flustered he was. Suddenly, he heard a loud chuckle on the other end. “So, you finally got some, eh?” asked Gladio and Cor could hear him smirking. “Did Jess give you some…sexual healing? That’s my kind of doctor.” The approval in Gladio’s tone was blatant and it got under Cor’s skin. He didn’t like the idea of anyone hitting on Jessica. “Gladio, don’t even think about it,” he growled, squeezing his phone. “If you even try hitting on Jess, I will do more than kick your ass.” With that, he hung up the phone and turned it off so he wouldn’t be disturbed. Just as he settled back down, he heard Jess hum in her sleep and she snuggled into him, holding him like he was a giant Moogle doll. “I don’t wanna get up,” she groaned, still half-asleep. “It’s warm in here. It’s a cocoon.” Cor smiled at her and held her gently, aimlessly stroking the soft skin of her bare back. Jess curled into him and slept like a cat curled up on its cushion. He loved the feel of her body against his, the feel of her soft breasts squished against his stomach, and the feel of her breathing on his chest. He looked at the clock on her bedside table and noticed it was about ten o’clock in the morning. No one could tell by the sun anymore so they had to rely on clocks. “Jess,” said Cor, kissing her on the head. “I have to get back to the hunting HQ. They’re expecting me.” “No…” she whined, sounding like a dog. “You’re warm. Stay.” Cor shook his head. “I’m sorry, Jess,” he said, stroking her hair, “but I have to go. I’ll come back tonight, if you want.” “Okay,” she mumbled, turning over so Cor could get out of the bed. Cor got out of the bed, bent down, and kissed Jessica on the lips before heading off to take a shower. … As soon as Cor to the HQ, he was met by Gladio at the entrance and was questioned immediately. “So? How’d it go?” asked the large warrior, smirking in a knowing way. Cor glared at him. If looks could kill, Gladio would be eighty feet under. “That’s none of your business, Gladio,” he growled, eyes looking like glaciers. The smirk never left Gladio’s face. “So, it was good?” he continued his irritating game of 20 questions. “Shut up, Gladio,” he said menacingly. “I’m warning you.” “Alright, alright.” Gladio backed off. “Don’t get your pants in a wad. How is Jess, though? Is she doing well?” “Yeah,” he answered, walking into the HQ with Gladio. “She’s doing well. Why do you ask?” “I just hate that she’s alone.” Now, Gladio sounded like the older brother he was. “I mean, she’s lost her family and she can’t be a normal doctor. She probably had dreams of making a family, but now she, and everyone, has to put her dreams on hold until Noct comes back.” Cor nodded and wondered what life would be like when the darkness was over. He wondered where he would be. Would he be married with children? Would he still be alive to get married? Would it be with Jess? She was too young for him but he imagined a future where he could be with her and they would have kids. Maybe one day, but not anytime soon. First, they had to get rid the Izunia problem, then maybe he would consider the future. All he hoped for was that it would be a bright one.

[shipsrulemylife]

A Hero - A Cresswell Fanfiction

*sigh* I was supposed to be doing homework and instead I did this. Of course.

Anyway, Cresswell is adorable and currently my latest obsession so obviously I had to write this.

Set between Cress and Winter.

Thorne blinked rapidly as his vision slightly started to clear up. He had been applying the drops, well, Cress had, every day for the past week and his eyes had already started getting better. At first everything was just a lighter shade of black. Then he was able to make out shapes. Next was colors, and then everything had returned except for clarity. His vision was still slightly blurry. Until today.

He set his razor down on the sink and ran his hands along his newly clean-shaven face. He ran a hand through his hair and shot a charming smile at the mirror.

He opened the door to his room quietly, so he wouldn't wake the other people aboard the ship and silently made his way to the biggest window he could find. If he had his sight back, he wanted to see the stars.

He crept into the cockpit and was surprised to see Cress already standing by the window and humming almost silently to herself as she stared out into space. She turned around when she heard the door open, "oh, Captain!" she exclaimed.

"Sorry," he shot her a grin, "I didn't know anyone else would be in here."

"I can leave if you want," she pointed towards the door.

"No, no, not at all," he quickly said. He then cleared his throat when he realized how eager he sounded for her to stay. He stood beside her and stared in front of him. "I just figured if I finally had my sight back, I should see the stars."

Cress turned her head to look at him. "You can see now?"

"Clear as day," he grinned, staring at her. "The short hair," he pointed, "it suits you."

A faint blush crept up Cress' neck and she smiled at him. "Thanks. Iko fixed it up a bit so it wasn't so jagged."

He smirked, "I like it."

She shyly looked down at her feet, trying to hide her grin and failing miserably.

Thorne took a moment to look at her. He watched as the faint pink slowly receded down her neck. He watched as the light from the stars reflected off of her ocean-blue eyes and her golden hair. He watched as her freckles seemed to dance across her face.

Aces.

She was beautiful.

He wanted to take in every detail and commit it to memory. If he ever lost his sight again, hers wasn't a face he wanted to forget.

"You know, I forgot just how pretty you were," he smiled sincerely.

Cress looked back up at him, face burning, but an eyebrow raised nonetheless.

"I'm serious," he chuckled as he raised his hands in surrender. "I had only seen you like, twice before I lost my sight."

Cress tucked her short hair behind her ear shyly and bit her bottom lip, "thank you."

He grinned at her and then returned his gaze to the glass in front of him. He watched as the twinkling stars in front of him sparkles like diamonds. He was mesmerized. He finally tore his gaze away from the stars when Cress spoke up.

"Do you think we'll make it off of Luna?" she asked timidly.

He sighed and reached for her hand. He held it gently in his and rubbed soothing circles on it with his thumb. "You know what? Yes, I do," he answered seriously. "Because we've got a pretty awesome team. We've got Cinder, a cyborg princess who can overthrow Levana," he started counting on his fingers. "We've got Kai, an emperor who rules the entire Eastern Commonwealth and can command armies with just a snap of his fingers. We have Wolf, a super strong soldier who knows Luna like the back of his hand. We have Scarlet, a feisty little redhead unafraid to pick a fight and a great pilot. We've got me, a criminal mastermind," he shot her a devilish, charming smirk. "And we've got you," he tapped her nose with his finger, "a crazy intelligent hacker who was cloaking ships for years and we, somehow, were lucky enough to get you on our team of powerful misfits," he smiled.

She gave him a small smile, "I was the lucky one. You guys are the ones who rescued me from the satellite."

"Mostly me," he joked.

"My hero," she fake swooned. They both started laughing before Cress tucked a strand of hair behind her ear again. "You are though. A hero. I know you don't think you are, but you are."

Thorne swallowed thickly. "Cress, I-I'm a criminal."

Cress shrugged, "we all are now. But you're also the one who is letting us use your ship, you're the one who helped Cinder escape, you helped rescue me, you let me drink the water when we were stuck in the desert, you rescued me when I was kidnapped, you even-" she paused, swallowing thickly before finishing quietly, embarrassed by her wish that he had granted, "you even kissed me when you knew we could've died."

"Well that one wasn't so difficult," he grinned at her, cheekily.

She rolled her eyes and smiled, "I'm serious, Thorne, you're more of a hero than you think you are."

He grinned and he leaned over to her. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw him getting closer but he just smiled. He turned his head to the side and gave her a lingering kiss on the cheek. He pulled away only slightly and grinned as he watched her cheeks flush slightly. He sighed contentedly and absentmindedly played with a lock of her hair, "what did I do to deserve you, Cress?"

She chuckled and buried her face in his chest, "you're a hero. That's what you did."

"Well maybe now I have a little more incentive to become one," he told her sincerely as a warm smile spread across his face and he wrapped an arm around her small figure, pulling her closer.