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autumnslance · 3 years ago

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FFXIV Write 2021 #3: Scale

Coerthas, circa 1556

“It is nearly time,” Avengret intoned, her deep voice a purr to Corran’s ears now.

“I’m grateful for your trust in me,” he said, leaning against her for warmth. The autumn day was chilly, but the dragon radiated more heat than his kitchen stove.

“You have been a good and faithful soldier,” she said. “I reward those who have earned it.” Her large head turned on her long neck to look at him more directly, orange eyes dancing like flames. “But I sense ambivalence, my son.”

He gave his response thought. “I want to take the next step, yet part of me fears...what if, like Tiron, I cannot turn back?”

Avengret harumphed. “You would cling to your weak mortal form rather than grasp for the ascendance offered?”

“As a man I can continue to work among other men, do what is needed there.”

“And?” Her burning eyes bore into him.

He smiled; not much got past the dragon. “My children are yet young, and need their father--and I can better turn them to the right path as their father.”

She nodded. “Your care for your young does you credit. While it is a risk, that your body may prefer its stronger draconic rebirth--and, also for one’s mind to break, as did Breckt’s into little more than a beast--I have elevated you among your brothers and sisters for your strength of will. For your love for your family. In this, I believe, you will remain true.” She stretched her neck up and shook herself. “And I would not waste the time spent on building you up, to have you fall to some fool squire should you be forced to transform to defend yourself, with no practice or understanding of what you truly could be.”

Corran let out a deep breath and nodded. “I don’t wish to let you down, my lady.”

She chuckled, the rumbling of it shaking his bones. “See that you don’t.”

——

Comfraire’s hands shook, Corran noticed, as the old priest passed the vial over. He had not quite recovered from an illness suffered last winter, his age catching up to him. “This alchemical mix with Avengret’s blood should allow temporary transformation,” he told Corran. Even Comfraire’s soft, quiet voice seemed shakier, thinner. “There will be pain, but you are young and strong enough to bear it.”

Corran took the vial, then looked up at Comfraire. “Why have you never partaken?” He had noticed a long time ago that Comfraire had never shared in Avengret’s strength.

The old man shook his head. “My mother’s people fled oppression in Gridania; Thordan’s sin does not flow strongly enough in my veins--and the one time I tried anyway, it left me violently ill, scaly patches on my body but not true scales. Simple bad reaction. They faded to odd scars over time, but it was judged unsafe for me to try again. So I serve in other ways.”

“I’m sorry.”

Comfraire smiled ruefully. “Men like you shall see the work continue once I am gone. Though I deem it unlikely now that I shall help induct your children into the truth, as I did for you and your father.”

Corran suppressed a wince as he did whenever thinking of his father, dead while Corran was yet an adolescent, sacrificing himself to avoid letting the truth of his affiliations condemn his family to the Inquisition’s flames. It was one reason Corran had been so hesitant at first to renew his own commitment; he had kept his own family separated from this life, Emelia knowing nothing of the war’s truth.

Zaine would soon be old enough, he thought, after a lifetime of seeding bits of doubt into his childrens’ Halonic education. The boy asked more questions than his teachers liked. Aeryn too, even so much younger, her mind quick and words ceaseless. Corran smiled simply thinking of them.

“I’ll have to muddle through somehow,” he assured Comfraire.

The old priest snorted a chuckle and gestured. “Our lady waits. Let us see what you become.”

—-

The sun was high overhead as Corran popped the lid off the vial, eyes locked onto Avengret’s as he drank the mixture of her blood with Comfraire’s alchemy.

The burning sensation was familiar by now, racing through his veins. The rippling of his skin, the wrenching of bones, the twisting of his insides however--that was all new, and Corran struggled not to scream. When he failed, it sounded more like a roar as his mouth extended into a snout, his teeth suddenly large and sharp. He flailed, limbs feeling the wrong shape, too much skin yet stiff, hard enough that falling to the stones did not scrape and hurt as it should.

He panted on the stones, heat still roiling in his guts, unsure where his head was in relation to the rest of him, his shape entirely unfamiliar.

“Magnificent,” Avengret intoned.

He looked up at her, his neck feeling long and wobbly. She did not seem so far away, or so large as she normally did. She was grinning in her way, pride shining in her orange eyes.

The other men seemed far below, and so small.

“A wyvern,” Comfraire said, hushed tones strained with relief. “Strong indeed.”

“Rise, my son,” Avengret purred. “Let us test your new wings.”

Wings; Corran had wings. They had grown from where his arms had been, longer and stronger. He had a tail too, letting it snap back and forth along the ground.

He followed Avengret’s directions, soon pushing off with his smaller hindlegs and lifting into the air, the fire in his veins singing with joy at finally, finally being where he belonged.

There was no time to play with his newfound freedom; Avengret pushed his speed, his endurance, his ability to now summon fire and wind from deep inside to attack. She came at him with claws and teeth, pushing him to respond in kind. For bells they trained, until the alchemy was spent and she caught him as he fell from the sky, ashes in his mouth as his body wrenched back into the shape of a man, carried in her claws to return to the cold ground.

—-

He was bone weary and felt stumble-drunk as he returned to his home, the sun slipping toward the horizon. His body was small yet heavy and clumsy, his feet odd when in his mind he still soared over the land.

“Daddy!” Corran braced himself as his daughter launched herself from the top of the low stone fence ringing their yard and into his embrace. “You're finally home and just in time for supper! Did you have a good day?”

“Careful, Hummingbird!” He laughed, lifting her. The familiar action steadied him, her small, squirmy form taking all his focus. “I had a...very good day, but am very tired now. What are you doing out here?”

“Not being underfoot,” Aeryn pouted, snuggling against his chest. “Mama told me to wait until you got home or supper was ready, whatever came first. But now you’re home and since you’re not busy anymore can I tell you about today? Cuz Mama’s busy and Zaine won’t cuz he was there for most of it so just tells me to go ‘way.”

Corran chuckled. “All right; you tell me about your day while I clean up for supper.”

He carried her inside, listening to her excited babble, only able to follow some of it; the child talked too fast and too much, and he had no idea where she had picked that up. Part of him hoped she grew out of it, but part of him found a strange sort of calm in listening to his little girl’s reedy voice recount her tiny adventures through the day, a contrast to the weight of Avengret’s expectations.

The ashen taste still lingered in his mouth, every ilm of him ached like he had been wrenched and bruised. He had experienced a miracle today--and here he was, taking off his boots and washing up as his daughter jabbered on, as normal. Like any other day.

Aeryn’s chatter paused as Emelia called them to dinner, and Corran sent her on ahead as he spared a glance in the mirror. He looked as he always did, he thought, almost disappointed naught was different.

Corran paused at the door from the washroom to take in his family. Zaine helped set the table while Emelia tried to settle Aeryn in her chair. Embers stirred in the ashes left in his belly, a manageable heat that embraced his heart. This was why he did what he did, all in secret, balancing his life between his necessary work...and them.

His wife looked up and smiled, weary but radiant, concern flickering in her dark gaze. He hated keeping such secrets from her, but he had to keep his lives separate for now. It was safer for them--and better, he realized, for him, as he continued to entrench himself in rebellion.

Someday the balance would tip, he knew, and it could all come crashing down any moment but for now he kissed Emelia, ruffled Zaine’s hair, and listened to Aeryn, surrounded in the comfort of his home and the war far away.

#FFXIVWrite2021 #Final Fantasy XIV #Lyn Writing #Backstory #Dragonsong War #Corran Striker #Avengret #Aeryn Striker

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dumbdemonslayertexts · 4 years ago

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random excerpts from black girl time travel kny au

Pairing: rengoku / oc

note: lots of angst mostly. forgive me for this not being y/n format i have to work up the chops to be graceful enough to write that

tagging @dudeandduchess and @adoriable and @tengens-bunny bc they sparked the greatest muse i’ve ever had to write fictions since i was like 14 literally wtf you are my queens???!?!

even with her mind working double overtime to secure her discomfort, the serenity if the rengoku estate could not be diminished. imene tried her hardest to remember any time prior to her time shift where she saw the moon so brilliantly illuminating the earth below it. each blade of grass, every stone in the garden reflected its glow; the whole of her surroundings were accented with such a pure silvery lining, giving a beauty distinctive to the night alone. it was tranquil enough for her to eventually draw a cleansing breath through her lungs, which finally released some of the staleness of doubt and second guessing that had filled her self image lately.

“you are awake still, imene-chan?”

that voice struck her in her chest, shooting sparks of heat and flutters in her stomach. and the fact that she was hearing it meant he was home. safe. and home.

“imene,” she softly insisted, making him smile as though he were being teased.

“imene.” his voice was warmer when he said her name, she would swear to it. and it stirred in her heart almost painfully with the need to hold him forever.

“i couldn’t sleep,” she shrugged off her dilemma, far more preoccupied in the happiness of seeing him, falling into those gorgeously untamed eyes and sweet smile again… “i’m happy to see you!”

“kyojuro.”

when the depth of his rich tone interjected his name, it caught her by surprise. and, true to form, he hadn’t needed her to say a word before reading her thoughts and emotions with complete accuracy.

“wh–?”

he lessened the distance between them, tucking his chin to sustain her eye contact where she sat, “imene… would you say it for me?”

the shadow of pessimism in her brain was shouting. he was easing the lines of formality as a kindness—-it was his vibrant character and nothing more. why was she so dense as to not even understand that? why did a simple name make her world feel brighter, and have her smiling to him, lovestruck?

“kyojuro.”

he smiled. with utter bliss, he smiled at her, exhaling like she’d lifted a weight from him. “ah… i prefer that, i think… don’t you?"

just like that, the playfulness was back in his voice and eyes. though, another element felt as though it had been added unto it. one she was far too daunted to even hope to name. so she changed the subject.

"how’re you feeling..?” she asked, lifting herself to stand, “you’re not hurt anywhere, are you? did you get any sleep or did you come right–”

she’d closed the remaining space between them as she fretted over him. ginger, worrying hands grazed butterfly touches up his chest, and the moment she’d made the mistake of tenderly cupping his face, his grin vanished… along with the delusion of pleasant standing she had dared hoped for with anyone there. it took so very little, but reality struck her like frozen lead.

the subtlest way she could, imene lowered her touch away from him, even as she felt stony ice fill her stomach at his reaction. she could feel how he’d stiffened just before she took her hands away. so then, at that very second with how clear things had become, finality settled into her. still, she wished he would have just lunged his blade through her gut instead; the pain would have been so much less.

“i–” kyojuro tried his best to play off the disgust, to turn the awkwardness in any other emotional direction. the poor thing even had the courtesy to look remorseful—-very convincingly, at that. god, how noble could one man be to still be kind and gentlemanly even now, trying to play off repulsion as he so obviously was? “no, i am not injured, i am feeling well! but i wished to return home as quickly as i could once i’d fulfilled my assignment. so, yes, i made the decision to return directly. i hope you haven’t been up out of worry for me.”

he was even back to beaming a smile by then, close-eyed and cheerful. she could only give half the heart in her attempt to smile back, barely nodding to acknowledge his answer. the bolt of dejection was still scalding in her chest, trying its best to well tears into her eyes.

“what is it?”

he asked after she’d broken eye contact with him for a time. imene had needed the privacy to blink down the urge to cry.

“i’m …ready to go back to oyakata-sama’s estate. but i was kind of worried of how much trouble it would be to ask if he would take me in a second time… i didn’t know if it would be rude to him,” she tried to sound as casual as she possibly could, asking softly, like it were nothing more than a passing thought over an inevitable eventuality instead of a conscious decision of hers. but from the look on kyojuro’s face, she may as well has torn a hole through him.

“has something happened?”

he was so concerned. kyojuro sounded so hurt and concerned that the prickling of tears threatened her lashes again. even with his aversion to her, she could not stand to see someone so sweet and kind be hurt. “no…”

“please, imene, if you were upset by anything that happened while i was away–”

“i wasn’t, kyojuro,” she insisted, pleading.

“are you unhappy?” he asked. and it broke her heart to hear just how willing he was to remedy whatever issue she may have experienced just by the tone of his voice, especially after just returning from a mission, “you don’t have to hesitate to tell me if I have failed to host you well.”

“you haven’t failed anything. i’m not unhappy. but I can–” dread made the words catch in her throat, but it was too late for her to retract anything now, “feel that I’m making everyone uncomfortable."

she waited for him to say something, but the flame hashira only looked at her in pained confusion, stunned and churning his brain to unravel her meaning.

"your father does not want me in your home, kyojuro. i’m a stranger to him—-in fact, I’m pretty sure he can sense that i don’t belong here,” she explained. he was faintly shaking his head, but even with the urge to protest, kyojuro could not deny that truth. “and senjuro–”

“he adores you,” kyojuro desperately interjected. her lips parted to negate it, but he continued before she could. and suddenly, there was a visible glimmering in his sunborn eyes, “he’s told me. many times, everyday we spend together. you…” his face softened from the accosted state she’d frozen it into earlier, and he paused his hurried explanations, “ease him. from our father. even though it is nowhere in your responsibility, you comfort him.”

“him liking me is just going to strain things between the two of them even more,” she shook her head, trying physically to mash the stress out of her temples, “that can’t be worth it, i don’t know how long I’ll even be in this time!”

“you would be surprised at its worth, imene."

her conscience screamed at her to look at him, and she refused for as long as she could… just for knowing how gutting it would be to do. decency prevailed over her to finally grant him enough to at least meet his eyes, though. and the way his soul cried out to her through them left her destroyed.

"i’m so sorry to have made you uncomfortable in my home. you needn’t worry about speaking with oyakata-sama, that is my responsibility, i will take care of it.”

he was resigned and sullen. It was almost impossible to tell with how genuinely he retained a positive outlook despite anything, but imene could see the sadness shining in his fiery stare, even with how radiant his grin was. she could also note how the sure grip of his sword had lessened to self-soothing strokes with his thumb at its hilt. “In the morning, I’ll make the arrangements for you. …I hope you believe me, imene, about senjuro. It’s been some time since he’s had …a loving woman around him. he isn’t likely to remember our mother well. what you’ve given with your presence is precious to him. priceless, I would say.”

he gave her an elegiac curve of his lips, and the water blurring her sight conquered her at last, dripping tears so heavy they fell straight to the ground, without a trace left on her cheeks.

“as for our father… he has been this way for a while. it is him. or, it’s what he has become, not a result of your being here. his callousness falls onto senjuro and myself normally, but I suppose you provided a new outlet for it …” he sighed, “it doesn’t excuse my negligence, but i will speak to him, you have my word.”

when she swept her eyes free of more accumulating tears, she felt kyojuro’s palms encircling her arms. it was a touch she had been desiring from the moment these feelings for him had begun to surface, yet when she felt it, she recoiled as if she were burned.

“imene,” he begged quietly. she still tried to keep her tone even.

“but you, kyojuro.”

confusion seeped into the misery soaking his expression, and his brow curled again to search for some hidden meaning in her words. his hands were away from her, though, the instant she showed discomfort.

“you’re the most uncomfortable around me of the three of you. you’re disgusted when i come close to touching you, you can’t even stand to be near me, in the same room, you’re always double checking to see if i’m up to something down every hall and in every room, and around your brother—-i can’t stay here and make you feel like that in your own home! especially when you’re out saving people and risking your life constantly! why would you even want me here if i make you so ill at ease—why would you want to come home to that kind of feeling after all you do!”

she hated how much heat she could feel under her skin–behind her eyes, in her cheeks and nose, at her ears. even more, she hated the pinched and congested whine her emotive state rendered her voice to, like some indignant child. it was humiliating to say aloud to him—-to verbalize just how awfully her self-regard had been eaten away, and to at last face it herself. now her cheeks and chin lay adorned with sheening wet streaks. she couldn’t hide any of it any longer. stillness followed after. not a word spoken, only the amplification of her breaths rattling and struggling to calm against rengoku’s measured silence.

when she could bear to raise her head again, imene could see him in what looked to be a deep epiphany. a terrible one. like his actions had only know processed into awareness for him, and had left him reflecting in horror.

“imene.”

he lifted his eyes enough for her to come into view, and his own lashes were starry now, blacker with the moisture accumulating at their base, in spite of the soft grin he wore, “i’m afraid i have to correct you. you said i haven’t failed in caring for you well. but i have done exactly that.

"would you come and sit with me,” he propositioned when she said no more. he’d expected nothing less when she could only look away from him with clenched, leaking eyes, so clearly pained that it ripped his heart to shreds. kyojuro was patient to await her answer, and held out his arm for her when she surprisingly accepted. imene had assumed that they would both share the space on the engawa she’d taken before his return. instead, he lead them to a more secluded area of the estate’s garden, on a stone bench that provided ample view of the night time, and allowed an unstifled breeze to cool them both that she greatly appreciated.

“i must apologize.”

“you did already.”

kyojuro glanced over his shoulder, hearing her delicate assurance. it surged through him, littering his skin in goosebumps.

out of consideration of how small their shared seat would be, he had crowded himself at the corner by her side. it allowed them both room for their legs, considering how widely his sat apart, but he could admit there there was a high element of shame that made it more difficult to face her. “yes, and it is not at all adequate for how i’ve hurt you.”

every time he spoke, sounding like he cared, she could do nothing but weep more. somehow, in spite of everything, his sympathy hurt more than anything else. and made her feel horrible for not being acceptable. “you can’t help how you feel, rengoku-s–”

“kyojuro."

his eyes met hers with stone solid conviction that she couldn’t understand. for someone who disliked her so palpably, he was intent on establishing friendly casualness between them that gave her a migraine trying to comprehend. his next words went far enough to bring a knot to her brow. "you’re right, i can’t. but to have acted on those feelings so poorly is shameful."

"acted on them poorly?”

“you were manifested in oyakata-sama’s estate. a refugee he deemed to have been brought here for divine reason. he is our leader in this fight we have undertaken against evil. he is the head of our organization, to be honored and respected.”

“it seemed that way,” her faint voice commented.

“yes. for that reason, and more i can’t explain now. understand, if my master says to me that you are precious, to be cared for, i wouldn’t ever dishonor that, nor you.”

now he’d given her her own shocking epiphany. it was slow to unravel itself with how meticulously he explained, frustratingly peeling away with the more he revealed to her in this less than receptive state that her mortification left her in.

“i wished to fulfill the role of your caretaker as best as i could. but as a hashira, i am frequently called away for extensive periods,” he gradually began to turn himself round, now diagonally beside her rather than perpendicular, “you are out of my direct sight for so long that i force you to tolerate my overcompensating once i return. i want you adjusted well, to not be overwhelmed or confused, or grieved with being alone. i wished to watch over you closely in case you were to need me.”

“oh…”

“and your nearness…” he began again, “imene, you were brought here under my protection. not only for me to oversee your healing wounds, but for your safe keeping all together. you are my charge. but i took this upon myself before knowing you—-i was not prepared for you to be so gentle and loving, and to possess warmth that i have not felt in so many years. you emanate affection–your spirit could even bring out playfulness in tokito-san. and your strength is one i have only seen in one other in my life."

she wanted to cry again, now. and was well on her way, hearing this perfect man speak of her so glowingly. out of nowhere.

"your peculiar beauty was something i was prepared to disregard. i am from a family of uncommon features; i willed myself to overlook the uniqueness of your eyes as many do mine, and to not be stricken with the comeliness of your hair, or with the beauty of your delicate complexion—-one i have never seen, and that i now will never forget. i convinced myself of it only being the allure of one sent from the heavens. i was mistaken, and then overcome."

"you—-” her voice broke, weighted with the sobs fighting to bubble out of her chest, “i don’t understand…”

“you are the most beautiful woman i have ever set eyes on, imene. my dreams could not even create anyone nearly as bewitching. and i swore to ignore it, until you showed yourself equally as beautiful in your soul.”

▷▷ part 2

#kimetsu no yaiba #kny imagines #kny rengoku #kny kyojuro #rengoku kyoujurou #rengoku kyōjurō #kyojuro rengoku #demon slayer #demon slayer rengoku #demon slayer kyojuro #demon slayer kimetsu no yaiba

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teroknope · 5 years ago

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Disruption [Maul X Reader]

AN: Hello There! This oneshot is set after The Clone Wars season Seven and happens while Maul is the hidden leader of Crimson Dawn on Dathomir, his home world.

Summary: Reader is struggling to cope with the overwhelming temperatures on Dathomir. Fed up of the summer heat, she decides to see what Lord Maul is up too...

AN: Divergent from canon as Maul’s cybernetic implants are below his knee for, reasons...

WC: 3.9K // Rating: Explicit.

Dathomir was hot,

Unbearably hot, for the human skin.

There was also an abundance of adequate air conditioning. But Dathomir was a quiet, desolate world. It was to be expected. The summers on this planet were unbearable, and far too long for your liking. It did not matter how many you experienced, they were always unfathomably unpleasant.

The holopad you held was serving as a futile distraction, lying on the dark framed bed with the device held over your face. You found yourself stripping from your usual attire, down to your simple black briefs and a simple crepe vest top.

Thankfully sunset was in a short while. But it felt like cycles away.

When you were off duty you tried to limit yourself to where you could go, otherwise you would end up picking up little pieces of work. A problem you found, with work and home being the same place. But, you would much rather be working now. It would distract you.

Too impatient to wait for the sun to slip away, you decided to take yourself away from your quarters. Slipping off the low bed, throwing on your long black chiffon robe, warm arms slipping into the loose sleeves. As you touched the tiles with your bare feet you thanked the force that they were not not hot enough to scorch your skin. You walked over to the grey metallic door, shifting open with a cool breeze that was shorter than you liked.

The metal cladded corridor was dimly lit, thin white lights sat on the wall in adjutant rows. The radiant heat still penetrated the dark walls.

Your location was the central room Maul conducted his operations, and where you supported him. It was a private room, one of the only ones in the facility that did not give any hints that his base of operations was on Dathomir.

He wanted to remain in the shadows, after all

Upon arriving at the large grey doors, the intercom panel was lit green. The door was not locked. Pressing a warm finger to the panel, the door shifted open.

The room was much larger than your shared quarters, but it was fairly dimmer. The only light in the room was the various holograms that would occupy the space and scattered white lights across the walls. But at this moment in time, the white lights served as the only light source.

In the center of the dark cool room rested Maul, seated upon a metal chair, holopad in one hand, cheek resting upon a closed fist in the other.

Maul’s ear’s picked up the door closing, his screen-worn eyes focused on the transcript. A report on a shipment from Dryden Vos, how lucky he was.

And, how bored, so boring.

“What is it” Maul uttered sharply.

You had become accustomed to his bluntness, taking no offence as none was meant ��“Would you prefer it if I looked over those Dryden’s reports?”

Really, you were bored. Maybe a bit lonely,

But you didn’t want to be in that room anymore.

Maul switched off the holopad, throwing it on the crate next to him. “I have sensed… unease from you today” Maul clicked his teeth, turning in the chair to face you. “You should do better to control-“

Maul paused, words stolen off his silver tongue.

He did not expect you to be wearing those clothes.

The chiffon robe, hung at your feet. The collar is embroidered with a beautiful crimson pattern. The crepe vest rested comfortably against your chest, the skin around your collarbone was bare. The black briefs were a simple thin fabric, but they rested comfortably against your thighs.

Maul noticed a shift, now it was his thoughts that needed to be controlled.

Kriff, he loved seeing you like this.

“I do not mind taking over, if you would like to meditate” Maul continues to observe your features as you leaned over to retrieve the holopad off the crate, including a cheeky stair down the nape of your vest.

Your appearance, your mannerisms, demonstrated how comfortable you were around him.

And how much he was infatuated by you.

Maul noted that the crimson detail of the robe rested across the curve of your breasts, one move and it would dare to slip off. It would be simply a matter of removing the vest....

Or, ripping it off.

Temptation flooded his thoughts.

“I have a syndicate meeting in a moment’s time, care to join me?” He held his hand out, gesturing for you to take it.

He was up to something.

Suspiciously, you reached for his hand branded hand. But then, an unknown force pushed you closer to him. Weak knees buckled, falling into his lap, hands falling onto his tight abdomen.

“Careful,” Maul playfully teased, catching you by your hips with his eager hands. The same thirsty palms found themselves sliding across your hips, up your back, slipping underneath the robe and vest.

Long fingers caressed against your skin. Likewise, your hands traversed up to his defined chest. Maul was painted in layers of back robes; Fathomed on how he could manage wearing those layers in this heat yet you could still feel the fine ridges of the muscles beneath the thick fabric.

One of Maul’s hands diverted from your back, trailing down to your brief covered buttocks, giving it a lively squeeze.

He was feeling unusually playful.

You were fond of his touch, although you did not want to admit it. Although it was obvious on your face.

You didn't always call him Lord, but you knew it swelled his pride, as well as other things. “Lord Maul, I do not think this is appropriate for-“

“Quiet,” Eager hands retracted from your back, now pursuing the chiffon fabric that rested on your shoulders. Flicking his fingers underneath the fabric with ease, pushing it away from your shoulders. It now rested on the middle of your back.

The Crepe vest hung mischievously low, it was a thin fabric and up close Maul could see the details of your breasts though the material. The crime lord brought his right hand up through the crepe fabric; calloused fingers teasing with the soft flesh before crossing his thumb over your perky nipple

You tried to hold back a small moan, his eager touch lighting a fire in your belly.

“Eager, aren’t we?” Maul removed his hand, much to your displeasure. With haste, he lifted up the soft vest, flicking his warm tongue over your pert nipple. A moan reverberated off your lips when his tongue licked you. Your moans became louder once his lips kissed over the warm flesh.

Maul sucked, hard. Low groans and gasps emerged from your throat, body arching against his touch. Maul removed his hand from the vest, allowing the fabric to rest on the bridge of his nose. Two hot hands secured your back, keeping you from falling while he sent pleasurable waves throughout your being with just his mouth and tongue.

Maul removed himself from your breast, a thin line of spit hanging between his lips and your nipple.

“I think I am the one that decides what is appropriate or not”

He left a trail of kisses across you as he moved across your chest, bringing one hand from his back forward.

“Don’t you agree, darling.”

“Yes- “Gasping, distracted by the pleasurable sensations that were crippling your body as he set his tongue to work on your untouched breast, while his thumb and index finger pinched at the wet nipple he was previously attending to.

Maul pulled away from your chest, golden pupils looking into your flushed eyes

“Are you sure, you did not come here to tempt me?”

Maul manoeuvred his hand, trailing down your back once again. First, beginning to toy with the waistband of your thin briefs before traversing further downwards, two eager digits stroking exactly where you wanted him to stroke. Maul could feel the wetness that was beginning to soak your briefs, wetness that he caused.

He watched with eager eyes as he teased you, he adored watching you become unraveled under his touch.

Kriff, he was unbearably hard. He just wanted to bury himself inside of you.

But, he would be patient, he could wait.

For a short while.

Maul’s lips moved to your neck, small kisses and nips planted across the supple skin as he continued to tease his fingers against you.

“M-Maul” breathless moan left your lips, you wish he would just rip off your briefs and fuck your there and then

It wouldn’t be the first time.

An eager growl left Maul's throat. “Shall I fuck you, darling?” sharp teeth now scraping against the warm skin of your neck, no doubt leaving a mark.“Shall I show them all, who you belong to?”

The answer did leave your mouth, instead desperate lips met him in an intense kiss. Maul nipped at your bottom lip as you ground yourself against his fingers.

You wanted him, no, you needed him.

Now.

“!!”

The high pitch communicator echoed across the room, accompanied by a flashing red light on the panel next to the chair. Maul’s dark lips removed themselves from yours softly. A disappointed sigh accidentally left your lips.

Maul noticed your lips parting, before closing again. Holding back your words.

His two fingers that were vigorously teasing you paused for a moment, although maul noticed the wetness was becoming too much for the thin fabric and began to slip onto his fingers.

Both of you were flustered, burning with want.

But, the syndicate comes first,

You went to remove yourself off his broad thighs, but Maul protested. An eager growl leaving his throat, the hand that wasn’t occupied pleasuring you was pressed firmly on your back, holding you to him.

He could have used the force, but he didn't need to. “Do not consider this prematurely finished, darling.”

The thought had crossed his mind of fucking you during the meeting. Thick Rigid cock buried completely in your cunt. Maul wondered if the syndicate leaders could see the wetness that would slide down his cock as he fucked you. The expressions of pure satisfaction on your face as he made you reach pure bliss.

But no,

He would not give them the pleasure of them seeing you like that,

That was a privilege for him and him alone.

Hastily sliding his hand from your back, Tapping the glowing receiver and ensuring the visual was switched off. Maul spoke, his voice low and thick.

“Our meeting is unfortunately delayed, a matter of higher importance has arisen”

Communication was cut abruptly, there would be no disturbances for another rotation.

“Maul, are you sure you-“ your false concern hastily redacted when his hand flew from the receiver, harshly pulling your underwear to the side, two digits finding their way inside of you with embarrassing ease,

Maul felt the groan emerge from your throat, “You, are always concerned, aren’t you”. He fucked you with his fingers, pumping them at an achingly slow pace, as they became slick with your juices, dripping down to his knuckles.

He had teased you far too much, with just his two fingers you were already becoming close to your release.

Maul’s mouth crawled up to your ear, whispering lowly “Maybe, you should be concerned with what I’m going to do to you, dear one.”

Then, he felt it. The way your body began to tense, lips parted and lowly moaning.

Maul smirked, pleased with his handiwork, indulging in the feeling of your walls contracting around his fingers as met your release.

But he was not satisfied.

The crime lord increased the intensity and speed of his finger fucking, intending to drag your release out until it became unbearable.

It was pure indulging and overwhelming pleasure, Without you realizing you began to grind against his fingers, greedily seeking more from the crime lord. “Lord M-maul!”

Dedicated fingers were still rubbing against your sensitive pleasure points, sending electrifying sensations throughout your body.

“Greedy today, aren’t you my darling?”

After a short while, your climax had finished. Maul withdrew his dampened fingers. Golden eyes taken back by your dazed expression, your cheeks glowing, lips sighing satisfyingly.

He fucking loved that he could unravel you like this.

“Come,” He demanded, pulling your underwear back in place. He began to rise from the chair, your legs wobbly as you stood on the cold ground.

“I think you can handle the rest of me now, darling”

Finally,

…..

The Sun of Dathomir has begun to set and the two moons crept over the horizon. The temperature has lowered, and so the bedroom has begun to cool slowly.

But, you had never been hotter.

Once you entered your shared room, Maul shed his upper robes. Discarding them onto a nearby chair. Your mind, still dazed from your climax couldn't help but stare when he removed his clothing. Toned Branded shoulders were defined to perfection, his chest equally as muscular, Painted in the dark tattoos that were so, him.

Maul positioned himself at the end of the bed. The only clothing was his final layer of bottom robes; you failed to keep your eyes averted from the outline of his hardness through the fabric.

He noticed your stares, and decided to indulge.

“Stay where you are,” Maul commanded. You were positioned parallel to him, your body in full show to him.

“Take off your clothes,” Voice sultry. “Slowly,”

You let the black robe slip off your arms, piling onto the floor near your feet. As you remove the vest, you made sure to glide your hands over your body as you did. Putting on a show of course.

Maul shifted his hands into his lower robes, running his rough hands across his ribbed cock, enjoying the performance you were giving him. He gave himself a firm squeeze at the base of his bulge.

“Now,” voice deep with need, the pleasant sensations of his own touch pulsating through him. “The rest”

Maul observed intensely as you slowly pulled the briefs down your thighs until they reached the floor, already stained with his own handwork. His grip was hard on his cock as he pumped it a few times, precum slipping onto his hand as he did so.

Attentive eyes met his hazy ones, you wished you could see him touch himself, and not be hidden by his clothing “Like what you see?”

“Mmm” Maul simply grunted,removing his hand from underneath his robes so could shed the remaining layer of clothing “Come here”

Heeding his command, you approached the crime lord. Admiring at how the ink was patterned across his entire body, with the exception of his cybernetic legs. From the knee downwards his leg’s turned from the warm crimson skin to the cool ashen metal.

They never bothered you, of course the cool metal sometimes surprised you when it comes into contact with your skin. But, it was who he was, you wouldn't change that for anything.

Soft footsteps approaching him at a teasingly slow pace, once you were close to him your right hand sneaked down to his cock, which he allowed of course. Maul grunted as your warm hand came into contact with him. Slowly drawing your hand over the three thick ridges that gave you so much pleasure, before stroking one finger over the tip. Rubbing away the leak of precum onto your finger before bringing it to your lips, kissing and licking the wetness away.

Maul sighed, heavily. A low growl leaving his throat.

“Shall we then?” Confidence brimming through your body “The usual position?”

He grunted, agreeing. Maul backed onto the center of the bed, lowering himself onto the soft mattress. You planted your knees on the side of his chest, hovering over his impressive length .

This position was more suitable, no matter now many times you had sex. You had to be prepared to take him. Really, he just wanted to bury himself completely in you, feeling you tighten around him as he did. But, he knew he had to be patient.

Otherwise, you would gain nothing but pain from this. He couldn't have that.

Maul’s hand’s caressed your hips as you positioned himself, The wet tip finally sitting against your entrance.

“What are you waiting for” Maul Growled, impatience brewing within.

“Patience,” Lowering a hand to grip the thick base of his cock, “Dear one”

Slowly, you started to lower yourself onto him. Letting out a sultry moan as you felt your walls beginning to slowly take him in.

“That’s it’ Maul encouraged, head now pressed against the mattress, he could feel the horns at the back of his head rubbing against the smooth bed linen.

His eyes closed, focused as he indulged in how tight you felt around him.

Maul became washed away in his thoughts

Yes, Give yourself to me.

As you crossed the second ridge a stifled moan left your lips. His hands clawed at your hips, trying desperately not to slam you down to his base.

Surrender, to me

He did not want to rush you, but kriff did he want to fuck you, hard.

Finally, you passed the final ridge, hitting the base of his cock with a satisfied moan.

Be mine, mine alone

Initially, you moved very slowly. Grinding up and down, feeling every ridge as you adjusted to his girth His hands were tight on your hips while yours rested on his defined torso. Sometimes, if you were too slow he would grind his hips into you, demanding, begging for you to move faster.

But today, you were feeling nice and decided to move at a pleasurable pace, for the both of you.

Maul was better than any human lover you had ever had. While humans sometimes would have their own quirks and charms. The physical capability of Zabraks was far greater; their two hearts meant they could go faster, and for much longer. If you was to compare Maul to a human it would not compare; his cock, deep red in color, was delightfully thick and had exquisite details like no human

You never wanted to fuck another human again

Not after this, not after him.

Maul could not avert his eyes from you, the way your breasts moved as you lifted yourself grinded against him.

He recognized the way your body was beginning to tense up slightly, the way you increased the pace of your grinding the concentration in your facial expression and the small moans that left your lips.

He knew you was close,

Luckily for you, he was feeling generous.

Maul shifted his back off the bed, moving into a sitting position, you sighed at the sudden movement. Feeling his cock reach you in places it couldn't touch before. Maul lowly groaned, as you continue to fuck up and down his impressive length, already becoming soaked with your wetness.

You wrapped your arms wrapped around his shoulders, as you moved faster and harder on him. Feeling every ridge hit your walls. His hand’s found themselves squeezing your behind eagerly as you increase your speed and pressure, your orgasm in reach.

You were so close, you could feel yourself on the edge,

But Maul had a change of heart.

Toned arms wrapped around your back, with ease he flipped you onto your back. He noticed the displeased winge that left your lips as he took control.

He had disrupted your pace, he knew you were close to orgasm and he ripped it from you,

Almost.

“Patience, dear one.You have worked so hard. You deserve a reward for your work.”

Without holding back, he crushed his hips into yours, loud satisfied moans leaving your lips.

“M-maul!, you’re gonna make me-”

“Yes, that’s right.” Maul shifted your right leg, placing it onto his right shoulder. “Show me, how i make you feel,” His right hand spread across your left thigh, fucking you hard and deep “Come for me,”

The orgasm crushed though you, body burning up at your release, Maul felt your wetness coat his cock, making his assault on you even easier.

He wanted more, craved more. He needed to go deeper, as deep as he could. Maul’s hands moved, tightening around your ankles, hoisting them in the air, using his hips mercilessly to ram into you.

He desperately wanted to fill you up, to see his seed leak out of you. It was at times like this he wondered if you would ever sire his children,even if it was possible.

He never wanted children, but to see you become swollen with his child, It made him feel a certain way that he could not explain.

It was a passing thought.

Your Orgasm was reaching its end, as your mind focused you noticing mauls thrusting started to become erratic. He would never announce he was going to cum, but rather a crescendo or loud grunts and groans would confirm it.

You knew he was close.

“Maul...” Voice soft, satisfied and warm

That’s all it took, he removed his hands from your ankles, lowering himself on top of you. Your chest’s meeting. His hot lips meeting yours as he started to become undone, growling into your mouth as he came, cock twitching and warmth spilling into you. You planted soft kisses onto his lips as he groaned at his intense release.

It wasn’t just the orgasm for Maul, nor the way you touched his cock. He adored the way your hands explored his chest as he fucked you, the way you would trace the marks that were etched onto his skin. The way your gentle hands would circle the base of his horns.

He relished in the touch, the contact with another being. The way you would return his aggressive violent kisses with soft pecks of reassurance.

Physical Contact was something he has been without, for most of his life.

Until he found you.

He needed it, desperately so.

As his release reached its end, the final waves of pleasure cascading though his body. Golden eyes met your wide starry eyed ones.

They were so comforting, unlike his.

The moons of Dathomir were finally high in the night sky. The room was cool, but both of your bodies were searing. You could feel both of his hearts beating rapidly in his chest.

And, your smile was so soft,

He did not deserve such a smile.

“Why do you look at me in such a way?” Maul wistfully questioned,

Gentle hands danced around his scalp, sliding across the base of one of his horns. It was soothing to him “Why wouldn’t I look at you in such a way”?

Oh, he could think of many reasons. But unusually, the words could not find him.

For a moment, you thought that his eyes looked lost. Your soft palm caressed this cheek, radiating with heat. Maul found himself leaning into your touch, as if he was craving it. As if he needed it.

Calloused fingers interlaced with your smooth ones

Maul’s voice was low and full of somber. “I do not deserve such affection”.

Instead of words, you decided to show him how you felt. Placing a kind, gentle kiss onto his lips. Maul closed his eyes, leaning deeply into your lips. Enclosing his firm arms around your shoulders as you both melted into the bed sheets.

After a short while, the kiss broke away. satisfied eyes staring deep into his golden ones.

You wondered if they had always been golden.

Both of your hand’s still interlaced, tightly, as if you were never going to let go. Word’s finally came to your mind, so you spoke. “That, is not for you to decide, darling.”

#Darth Maul X Reader #Darth Maul imagine #Star Wars #Star Wars Imagine #Maul X reader #star wars fanfiction #dathomir #sith #sith x reader #sith imagine #Shout out to whirlybirbs who has the best headcanon of his you know what in the univerise

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duraxxor · 3 years ago

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Tales of Solanthos: Shadows Chapter 1 - The Cursed Child

" Darkness has a way of permeating within every single entity. It's existence is unlimited, unlike the other five original elements. And that is why it is widely feared. Because you never know what may be lurking in the Dark. " -- ???

Solanthos. A world filled to the brim with magics that have long evolved in the passing years since it's elemental cataclysm. And with the reformation of the very earth we stand upon, the planet itself as taken on a variety of layers. Some may even argue that the deeper you go to the seething core, the more hellish it becomes. I can attest to that theory. My name is Alphus Daevara, and what I am about to explain to you is more than just my story. No, it is a revolution in a new age amongst the world as we know it.

Amongst the many races of Solanthos, there were the Wyverians. The Wyverians are said to be pointed-eared, magically-attuned mortals that had evolved over time from the blessing of the creator Sylvirra, the matron deity that is said to have rivaled Solexstras, whom the Strassian people revered as their patron. That, however, is a story for another time. Anyways, there were four divinities that split depending on what it was the Wyverians chose to worship. The Goldenthorn, for example, are widely known for their belief in nature and all it provides, exalted in the ways of Life. The Sky Nomads are another group that chose to live amongst the skies in their floating city, believing that the Air they breath is the key to living a prosperous life. Then, we have the more sects that believe themselves to be more sophisticated amongst their kin. The Houses of Radiance, noble bloods that worships the light of the day stars and it's eternal flame. This house of nobility is often lost in it's own arrogance at times and unlike the earlier two, they do not extend their hand to other races so eagerly. Unironically, however, there was one final house whom believes themselves to be even more powerful than the House of Radiance. The Duskhaven choose to live in their underground city that stands on the borders between the first layer of the planet and the darkness that lies deep within the earth. However, their light is in the form of the moon phasing. Another notable trait that defines Duskhaven from the rest is their darker pigmentation as opposed to the lighter tones from their kin amongst the surface.

You're probably expecting me to tell you which one I fall into, aren't you? A Goldenthorn that values all life? A Sky Nomad that strives for adventure? A noble among the Houses of Radiance or perhaps one of the nocturnal Duskhaven? Well, if you guessed the latter of the four, you would be right to a degree but it gets more complicated from here. For you see... My father was of Duskhaven while mother, on the other hand, was of Radiance. Their marriage was highly frowned upon, going as far as even receiving death threats as well as the guardians paying close attention to their every movement. Eventually, they earned their right to love but not without consequence...

6.16.9100 - sixth cycle, sixteenth day, nine-thousand and one hundred years after the reformation. With life comes pain, and with pain comes life. A familiar that my mother experienced and accepted well. She screamed and writhed from the contractions. My birth was nigh but alas, my father was nowhere to be seen. " Where is he?... Where is my husband?! " The Goldenthorn that were requested for her birth outside of the territories answered naught once but instead gave her advice. " Continue to breath in and push, Apolla. Your husband will be here soon. As will your child... " My mother rebuffed herself, lost in the pain from both my arrival and the separation of her beloved. Alas, the only one awaiting her outside was her brother, one who had clung to a hope that his sisters choices would not cost the house their reputation. He, who was also responsible for my father, Sephirrion, from being present as he had guards assembled to prevent what my uncle declared to be an interference. With each scream, I drew closer to existence until finally one high pitching shriek followed with the sound of a babe crying out it's first breath.

" It's a boy, Apolla! Rejoice! You have birthed a son! " The Goldenthorn practitioners cheered with the success until they looked upon the crying child's form upon the initial clean up. Neither sun-touched nor midnight complexion existed. Instead, it was as if my flesh had been touched by storm clouds or the greys of stone. A tuft of white hair sprouted from my cranium. And to some, it was a sickly sight. Specifically my uncle who had immediately rushed into the room to his displeasure. " Sister... What. Have. You... Done?! You have soiled our family name with the existence of a cursed child! " My mother was even given a chance to process what he had said in her tired state before the Goldenthorn found themselves scrambling to stop an enraged Radiance from hurdling a ball of flame at the child. It all happened so fast. Even to this day, I'm haunted by the heat that had struck my flesh. However, as the child was engulfed in flames, the hue of radiant fire twisted, discoloring into an insidious purple blaze until the scream of a babe sent the flames outward in a burst, striking almost every single person within the room. My uncle along with a few of the Goldenthorn were burned but no one was killed in the incident. House of Radiance guards came swarming in and the injured Uncle gave her command. " Take the child to his father... and tell him that he is NOT to set foot close to our territories ever again! As for my sister... Take her and have her locked in a cell! I will not allow this event to destroy my family's way! "

So from that point, the last memory I can recall was the voice of my mother shouting my name despite my birth having been but a mere moments before she was torn away from her child. The guards did as they were commanded and eventually, my father learned of what had transpired. At this point, not only was Sephirrion overwhelmed with guilt and heartache, but he was mortified by the idea that his son possessed such a destructive power. From then on, he chose to raise me under his thumb amongst the Duskhaven. While they weren't as resentful of my existence, they still held prejudice against my father's love interest and the end result. To some, I was nothing more than a motherless child and an embarrassment. While others, believe me to be a white-haired demon. The latter was personified once my eyes had opened to the cruel world around me. An iris divided into two rings of color, the outer being a crimson river of blood while the inner ring illuminated with a blend of orange and yellow. Some described it to remind them of a feral beast before they took note of the dark pupils that possessed no shine to them.

My father would carry this burden on his shoulder for as long as he would live. No one would ever learn or could explain what had transpired that day. Why a child did not burn in fire and reflected such power in such a destructive manner. It was uncommon and hadn't be displayed in any infant. My father tried to give me the most normal life any Duskhaven could offer a halfblood. Food, water, clothing, and shelter. But most importantly, enough love despite the hole that was always within his heart. And with the cycles of life would come public education so I could learn how to live amongst the other's. I still remember my first day of school how everyone stared at me. Even the teacher introduced my name and it was as if I were a criminal. Children whispered obscene things about me that they had heard from their parents.

Freak. Blasphemy. Demon. He should be dead.

I chose to ignore it the best I could and stayed in my corner. That was, until I was confronted by an unexpected occurrence. A Duskhaven girl whose hair was a golden blonde, unlike most and her eyes were as blue as the oceans that were described in geographical lessons. " Hey you, why do the other kids make fun of you? " She asked in such a sweet but prodding voice as we sat outside the academy underneath a glowtree. Incase you were wondering, a glowtree is said to be related to an type of cypress on the surface world but it adapted to the darkness and stores the light that beams from the sun and moon phasing through cavities above. Anyhow, I didn't know what to say or think, I simply stared at her a moment. " Huh? I know you can talk.. I don't understand why they make fun of you? You have pretty eyes. So what if you're different? " I remember something in my tiny, little heart clenching on my strings and I just couldn't contain myself as I began to cry at how kind and warm this girl was to me. " Hey... it'll be alright. You're name's Alphus, right? I'm Felyna. " That's a name I would remember forever. She was the second person to extend a kindness to me aside from my father who raised me. I would meet her during recess and sometimes even after school amongst the City of Undershire.

But, as years passed and I approached the age of ten cycles, her father began to take notice of how close we were. One might say he was much like my uncle and didn't take too kindly to a halfblood mingling with his noble child. I remember when day this tall, powerful man dressed in magus attire approach the two of us outside of school. " Felyna.. " His voice was deep with age and possessed a wicked octave to it. "... why are you fraternizing with this abomination? " As the question plunged my heart like a blade, his daughter protested by reflecting his own question with denial. I can remember how much his voice raised when he demanded his daughter return home at once, forcing her to respect his wishes with the threat behind his voice. But I made one more error at that moment as he told the father how mean he was being and glared at him. " Do not question my ways of parenting you ignorant, little gremli- " As I half expected my face to be lobbed off my shoulder by the strike of a hand, Felyna's father found his arm caught by my own father's. " Leave the children out of this matter... I'm the problem, not my son... " His azure gaze was locked upon my father's yellow orbs in the heat of the moment as they both retracted their arms and the opposing entity said the following words. " You have made a grave mistake, Sephirrion, and I will see to it that you both regret it... I will not have my daughter sullied by your... thing. "

At that point, my father had finally told me that night that I wasn't allowed to go back to the academy and that he would be homeschooling me in his spare time. It was peaceful for the most part but my heart ached as I feared I had gotten Felyna into more trouble that I expected. I never saw her again after that event and not long after, the quiet peace would be broken by the sound of our door being shattered to pieces. It seemed her father held true to his words as my father and I found ourselves confronted by several magi. " Run, Alphus! Run and don't look back! " Those were the last words I heard of my father ever again as I managed to escape through the window of my room and made a run for the city gates. Once again, I had made another miscalculation in my youth as there were guardsman waiting for my arrival as they caught me, the wild, unruly child and I found myself face to face with the same father who had nearly struck me for even glancing in his presence. " Take him to the Pits of Ab'bothi. Make sure that I never see his abominable presence near my daughter again.. "

During my childhood I had heard of whispers amongst the children about these pits. Ab'bothi was an unfamiliar term from a race known as the Arakne, which were apparently spider-like people. In their tongue it translated to Strong Jaws apparently or so the Duskhaven children claimed. It was said that these deep caverns were a living creature that swallowed anyone whole that plunged them for knowledge, never to return. And here I was about to be taken to these pits for only the elements knew what? Always fighting, always flailing, I tried as I might to escape but my energy reserves eventually ran out until found myself tossed onto the hard, stone floor far from the City's light. What little light graced this deepening cavern was nearly snuffed by an smoggy darkness. The entrance paying homage to the name as the ceiling and floors were decorated with jagged spikes that reminded someone of the Strong Jaws. There were even a few that had bones stuck between them, fermenting with the scent of age and death.

" Walk, halfblood. " I felt a dagger pointed directly at my back at the very tip, giving me no choice but to walk forward on their command. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six steps taken before I was told to stop and turn around. Despite my cooperation, my face was struck by the dagger, leaving a jagged scar on the bridge of my nose which was met with a harsh cry of pain as I fell backwards onto my bum, holding my bleeding face. I remember asking, even pleading with them in my painful confusion. " Why? Why are you doing this?! What did I do to deserve this treatment?! " To which, the lead of the group of hired henchmen covered in their shrouds answered. " We do not question our Lords, we only carry out their commands. But know this... that as you snuffed from the life that it is because you were born that you deserved this... " Harsh words were something that I had become familiar with, but to hear a grown man tell me that it is my life which condemns me to such treatment. It struck like a harsh chord along the strings of what remained of my heart. Even when they raised their weapons and the magi began to channeling destructive fire, it was as if I had already given up hope that I even deserved to live. My mother was gone, my father was likely dead, and my closest friend was banished from ever seeing me again. And here I was, about to die, for being a halfblood thing. And in that moment, my gaze stared blankly as I accepted the jaws of death.

" Kshhhhhh...kkkkk... How very curioussss...kkkk.... "

A series of clicking followed such words that were breathed down my spine as I felt something much more threatening approach from behind. The magics of the magi were suddenly nullified and the light was snuffed by a clouded smog. Even as the Duskhaven themselves looked around in a disturbed confusion, I dared not move a muscle as my own vision saw through the darkness at what was staring at me from above. I didn't quite know how to describe it either. A mouthful of needles wrapped in a series of bandages? How could such a beast or monster see in this darkness? Wait, how could I see in this darkness? " You sssssee me boy, don't you? " Saliva dripped from his that maw of potential murder, or at the very least, that's what I was hoping it was. It wasn't until I hesitated that I saw the elongated limbs beside me that looked at though the forearms on their own were as tall as a Duskhaven on their own. How big was this thing? I remember one of those limbs lifted to point those spiny fingers towards the men that were in a commotion. A single finger could completely gouge my eye out if it so desired. " Well? Can you sssspeak? Kkkkkk... or has the ssserpent got your tongue? " There it was, that incessant clicking that brought shivers to the bone.

A nodded to the best of my abilities, gritting my teeth as I steeled myself for whatever else may await me in these dark times. " Do you wish to live, child? It would be a wasssste to see such youth be sssnuffed by the ignorant. " In that moment, I remember my eyes cutting towards the men who were preparing themselves as they found a means to illuminate a short range, the leader calling out to find me and finish this job quickly. " Y-yes. I want to live! Please, help me! Spare me! Don't harm me, please! No more! " To most, it was a pitiful sight and it was the last time I truly had a moment of weakness as I covered my face.

" Ahhhh.... Excellent... kkkkkk.... " The insideous clicking followed with a rush of air as whatever this anomaly was, it had took flight in some way, shape, or form. And as I thought it had left me to the wolves who had spotlighted me in the distance, I began to notice that the magus were once again placed in a panic as one by one, each one was being pulled into the inky blackness that surrounded the area. Screams and cries of terror followed by the sound of tearing flesh and duskblood puddling upon the floor below. Even so, the leader of the assailants didn't give up as he set his sights upon me. " I knew you were a miserable halfblood... but to be cursed with such monstrous demons that follow you in your wake... I will end you! " I couldn't catch a break. It seemed as though one thing after another, my heart was always on some form of edge. I could do nothing but throw up my arms and hope that it softened the blade that was about to be plunged into my small body. Yet the pain did not come. Why?

" What is this?! " The leader cried out just before I pulled my arms down to look beyond the truth. The image of a familiar hand with elongated claws had wrapped completely around the Duskhaven's left arm. " Let me go! I was sent here to do my job! I won't go back empty handed! " The protestation of the assassin was met with not a glimmer of mercy. In fact, he found that this putrid substance was expelled from between the fingers of this creature. Dark magic that ate away at his arm, severing it as the flesh and bone fell completely off. Never in my life had a heard a man scream so loudly in such torment. I was shaking, perhaps even terrified from the possibility that I may be next yet... something about it seemed correct in nature.

" Tsk tsk tsk... You mortal beingss always have an excusssse for mucking around my territory. A job? More like ssssome petty squabble... " The thud of two feet as they landed from above. Much like the face and the arms of the beast, so two were these elongated legs that bent and contorted in a sharp manner. This would explain his acrobatic skills of likely being able to climb the ceilings perhaps rather than flight? Leaping perhaps. "... all thisss trouble for one whelpling? " A clicking laugh followed as the light illuminated the creatures form more than expected. The majority of the body was shrouded by a cloak that seemed to blend with the darkness, as if it were a part of it. Such enchanted relics weren't unheard of but were quite rare of the Wyverian breed.

" I'm not sure w-what you are, demon... but that child is a blight upon our kind... and if left unchecked, he could very well be a.... " The pained man suddenly felt his own bones start to contort and snap from the inside, as if he were being manipulated by an unseen hand. " Threat? Thisss... gifted child? Oh nononono... not a threat so as long as you continue to berate and abuse him... however... Ra'shi'sek... " The utterance of such a word was hissed from the needled mouth and right before my eyes, my troubles were engulfed in a violet wildfire brought a vivid light to the entrance of these cavern, revealing the true size of the being before me as he stood slightly hunched over. He was bigger than any man I had ever met in my lifetime, almost two average Duskhaven in this current state. All that remained was the wailing agony as the assassin and his desecrated underlings were sent to some malevolent hell, vanishing as if there wasn't a single trace.

" And then... kkkk... there was one... " A soft chittering followed across my eardrums as the being began to step towards my right side, which just so happened to be the entrance to the Pits of Ab'bothi. Unlike combat, the giant humanoid possessed no loud thud in his steps as they proved to be silent in nature. Calculated, perhaps. I remember pulling myself up rather carefully and slowly before the stranger came to a stop. " If I were you... I would not try returning to the City... you will likely be held resssponsible for their deaths... but... kkkkk... if you wish to give it a tr- " Not a single pause was required before the next words fell right out of my mouth. " I have nothing left there... I would be better off not returning if there was a chance my parents were still alive... I want to go with you.. sir... "

The towering shroud stood there silently for the longest moments before another series of clicks followed, tilting his covered head to the side before. "... Why? " Another faint silence was shared between the small child and the being that had saved me from death. I swallowed, despite having serpent's mouth from the lack of hydration. " You said I was gifted. I want you to teach me how to use that gift to live. I know not why you have been so kind to me but, I would not wish to waste the chance you have given me. " The being heard my case, tilting his head to the opposing direction before he chittered with his reply. " There will be rulesss. I will teach you but to pass beyond the veil, you may never return to your people without my permission. For if you do... kkkkk... I will abandon you. And if you pursssue me, I will treat you as I had the othersss. " The deadly claws fidgeting in the dark as he allowed the speech to permeate in my mind. The brief hesitation was due to a lack of trust and just before I could answer, he continued. " You are stepping into the Abyssal Wilds, child. My path will not be an easy one to walk, no matter if you are a whelpling or a mighty beast. You will be pushed to your limits ssooo that you may surpasss them. KKkkk... Are we in agreement? "

What sort of horrors may await me in the unknown? Were they more terrifying than him? To push me passed my limits? Would I be broken? Mangled? Shattered? I had already been through many turmoil. Beaten and reaped from any equality amongst my kin. I remember this red-hot fire burning within my heart as anger against my kind began to manifest in my form. And rather than answer verbally, I stood as tall as I could and followed this entity's steps until I finally stood beside him. " Tell me child... what do they call you? " He asked as we began to move in unison, despite the major height difference. " Alphus... Alphus Daevara. What are you called? " The light of the upper crevice that cascaded down onto the city soon dimmed as we stepped into the unknown abyss that lies beyond the pits.

" A name that translates in the tongue of your kin as... The Huntsman. "

#a new story #Alphus Daevara #Chapter 1 #The Huntsman

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pollenat · 4 years ago

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SF9 and 5 ways to say I love you

➛ Note: There are few indications of nsfw themes.

INSEONG

Pouting when he scolds you for taking his jacket. He doesn’t like sharing clothes, and you know it. But the material smells the same way he does. You want to be surrounded by it 24/7. His demeanor changes at your confession. The familiar darkness of his eyes softens. You think he may forgive you, but he returns to scolding, this time with you in his embrace. Still, he doesn’t take the jacket back.

The sharpness of his gaze as you press yourself closer to him. People around are talking, too busy to notice a touch-hungry couple. Yet the thought of going further in the current surroundings doesn’t please you. Inseong has much less self-control. His knuckles turn white from the tight grip on a wine-glass, his other hand reaching down your back. It’s not long after that you leave the party.

Drawing each other on napkins when you’re in a cafe. The drinks are cold by the time you finish, but you’re satisfied with the work. He laughs at the little message you’ve added. “Does loving you make me a furry?”. Your eyes meet for a short moment before he writes down a “yes”.

The vibrations of his chest that are forced by honest laughter. Curious, you attempt to look back at him, but your head can’t go far enough, and in the end it moves from his breast to shoulder. “What’s so fun-” before you can finish asking, his phone plays the same video again. Your heads collide when you join in on the laughter.

The strength of wind one very random day, when you’ve decided to go out. It doesn’t spare anyone, pushing and pulling in the chosen direction. When you finally find shelter inside the first shop you see, both you and Inseong look ridiculously messy. As you’re rearranging his torn locks, you don’t miss the way he smiles at your features. Finally, he brings his hands up to help you too, but only after your scolding.

YOUNGBIN

Sighing when he tells you to pose for a picture. He has way too many similar ones saved on his phone, but Youngbin doesn’t care about your complaints. “I need them.” “For what?” “For when you’re too busy to see me.” His answer makes you smile bashfully. The picture he takes that day becomes his favorite.

A car ride in the morning. Streets are crowded with colorful cars and sleepy workers, as they all wander somewhere with a clear destination in mind. You do as well, but not to work or school. Youngbin’s eyes catch yours, their glossy surface turning soft from the exchange. His hands are gripping a steering wheel, meant to take you far away from the city’s traffic, to the holidays in the middle of the week.

Sharing heated kisses despite the discomfort that the countertop brings to your bottom. You can’t take your attention away from Youngbin’s magnetic touch and warm breath. But there’s a thought that tries to break through his presence. Finally, he sighs in annoyance and reaches behind you to turn down the cooker. “Better safe than sorry.” introduces another series of meeting lips, now much steadier without anything to bug your minds.

He never complains whenever his head hurts, but the weight on your lap is enough to tell you everything. Youngbin sighs deeply as you press your fingers to his temples. Then he smiles shyly and says a quiet thank you, glad to have someone who understands him without words.

The way he never raises voice at you, even when the annoyance is all too evident on his face. You want to bite back, make a remark that is bound to make him more frustrated, but Youngbin leaves before you get the chance to. “I don’t want to fight any longer. Let’s talk once we both calm down.” he hesitates by the door, hand reaching forward to meet yours in a gesture of goodbye. But then he remembers you’re angry at one another, and drops the limb. You cannot miss the shadow of sadness on his face.

JAEYOON

The sight of his broad shoulders, and the warmth of his arm hugging your folded legs. TV hums in the background, easily engaging him in the latest news. To you, it’s just a background noise. Jaeyoon’s soft hair draw the end of your world, their texture lovely in touch. As your fingers massage that one spot, he leans into them, a deep sigh silencing the news anchor. He remind you of a touch-starved puppy.

Placing down your lucky word on the Srabble board. Jaeyoon scoffs at the two bonuses you are given and your winning dance. “You got lucky.” is his reasoning, which you do not question. Games like Scrabble are all about four-leaf clovers, but it won’t stop you from celebrating. Your partner watches with his arms crossed, and just as you’re about to make a turn, small smile spreads his mouth in a way best described as fond.

The clash of strength when you’re wrestling on the sand. Jaeyoon wanted to put dirty lock of seaweed on your head, which earned him a push to the ground. As you manage to distract him for long enough to sit on his chest, you stop, stunned by his radiant smile. It’s framed in sunscreen, grains of sand, and wet strands of hair. All of which take your breath away long enough for him to overpower you.

Hiding under covers during a stormy night. It’s not a reason behind your activity, rather a simple correlation, because neither you, nor Jaeyoon feel anything similar to fear. Instead, you’re grinning at one another in the darkness. His feet tangle with yours, hands twist and run over each other’s bodies, sighs melt into one. A thunderbolt lights up the world outside, but surges through your veins when the man in your embrace finally lays a kiss you’ve been waiting for.

A growing collection of cacti, neatly organized on a window sill. Each one has a name, which their buyer welcomes with amusement, but never ridiculousness. “Did you feed our children?” “Of course! Do you take me for a terrible father?” Sometimes, when he’s lost in thought, you observe his unconscious habit of touching their needles.

DAWON

Admiring his calmness as he munches on a chicken wing. Once he realizes you’re not eating, he offers you another one, his eyes innocent, hot sauce dripping from the corner of his mouth. You don’t take the wing, instead reaching forward to wipe the liquid with your thumb. Sanghyuk chokes on his food as you put the finger in your mouth.

Lying in bed, your backs facing each other, either of you scared to turn around after the argument you had. There’s no more anger, only longing to go back to normal and see the other’s face. You miss his voice, but the uneasy silence is pressing on your chest, too heavy to allow words. Instead, you move your hand back, in search of his, and when you eventually do, you’re elated to find him returning the grip.

The afternoons when you sit down on a bench, watching passersby and narrating their lives. Neither of you can stop laughing during those, attracting attention of strangers, but all of them wave you off as just another weird couple. “You have to admit, he does look like a murderer.” Sanghyuk smiles at the sound of your maniacal laughter. His arm pulls you closer to his side.

Feeling his hands resting on your sides as he approaches the conversation you’re busy with. There’s nothing possessive about Sanghyuk’s grip, although your primary companion gives you an uncomfortable smile. You’re not the type to tell the man behind you off for showing the purest sort of affection for his other half. Even if in the end, the person is quick to escape. “What a nice guy. Too bad he had to leave.” you smile at Sanghyuk’s honest cluelessness.

The sight of him dressed in an apron, fresh batch of cookies still steaming from the oven’s temperature. Frosting is bubbling in the pan, and he curses as soon as he realizes what’s going on. Quick as to not burn it, Sanghyuk turns off the stove. You lean on the doorway, watching him move around the kitchen, until he finally realizes you’re back. Just a look at you and his mouth widens to show off a welcoming grin.

ZUHO

Nights spent in front of the computer screen, on Juho’s thighs, with his silhouette embracing you. He’s busy with work, but doesn’t complain about your weight. It would be weird if he did, considering he was the one to insist on your presence. Perhaps to use you as a chin stand. It digs in the side of your neck, hesitating between a massage and painful annoyance. “What? Am I bothering you?”.

Having trouble staying mad at him. Even if the argument you had was a rather big one, Juho continues doing the little things. As if everything was normal. Coffee, extra meal, even that dumb yogurt you like the most - they’re all still there, no matter what. Their presence is a needle stinging the back of your head, telling you to put the fight behind and return to the warmth of the person you’re so used to.

The times when his shy side steps back, to let another one take over. That Juho is more confident, smiling slyly, with a gaze twice as dark. There are new depths to him that beg for exploration. No matter how many times you’ve experienced it all, nothing about him can bore you. There’s a side of an obsessed explorer to your always Juho-starved mind. Even when his deep voice laughs at the excitement you’re showing, he doesn’t push you away. He seems to enjoy the attention just as much.

A never-ending string of chat conversations. Be it cute pictures of cats, rare memes, or just a voiced desire to eat junk food, you always look forward to the signs of communication. And if he won’t provide, you will. With a picture he may not want to show his friends, or words he won’t use in a love song, worried it will somehow get out. These are for him only.

Correcting the collar of his shirt, minutes before he’s supposed to leave for an evening out. It’s a normal thing to do - spend time with others, not just your loved one - but the close future still feels salty on your tongue. Juho asks you a question, and you smile in answer, nodding your head that yes, his friend is sure to like the birthday gift. He mirrors your expression, kisses goodbye, then disappears into the night. Out of sight, not out of mind.

ROWOON

The words of encouragement he uses during a dinner out. Things like “Finish this serving, I’ll ask for another.”, or “You ate too little. Have some more.” accompany each bite you take, deafening the inner voice of guilt. It will come later, when Seokwoo’s voice disappears with a sweet goodbye. And quiver in fear when he scolds you for ever being ashamed of your weight.

Waking up in the middle of the night. Your fingers curl and uncurl, their tips eventually spreading over the warm skin of his chest. Mind wide awake, you cannot just go back to sleep. Instead, you delicately draw shapes, hoping to hypnotize yourself, and somehow keep him awake. All of sudden one of his hands grabs yours and pulls it over his chest, to make you embrace him better. He’s asleep again just a second later.

Goodbyes that take much longer than they should. Even after spending an entire day in each other’s presence, neither of you want to part ways. Seokwoo’s hold is strong, pulling you so close to him, you think he may want to melt the two of you into one. Not that there’s anything wrong with the idea. Was it a possibility, you wouldn’t have thought twice. “I should probably get going.” he says, but the hold loses its strength only much later.

Nothing. You’re doing absolutely nothing, and he still looks like he’s about to melt from the sight alone. His smile is wide, dream-like, and in return you try hiding yourself, because that’s too much for your heart to take. “What? Don’t cover your face!” he’s laughing, his hands grabbing at your forearms to pull them down. When you’re defenseless he places the sweetest of kisses on the very tip of your nose.

The lack of your vitamin S. These instances are so rare, you can never get used to them. It’s like being homesick. Even if you’re sitting on a couch you paid for, home feels far away. It will come back, you’re sure of it. You will do everything to assure its return. But for now, you just sink in the feeling of loneliness, turning over the words, the moments, the possibilities.

TAEYANG

If it wasn’t for his begs, you wouldn’t have ended up dancing in the club. Which would be a shame, because Taeyang was right. Every once in a while you can go out, if just for the sake of seeing him in his element, a satisfied smile decorating such beautiful features he possesses. His hands pull you back into moving when the overwhelming adoration makes you stop for a moment.

The pain being so visible on his face. As much as Taeyang wants to keep the image of a stoic man, hearing your hurtful words makes the walls of a calm act explode into flour-like dust. He trembles in his spot, holding back the waterfall of emotions. How could you, of all people, say something so real to him? Something that could shake him to the bone? When he can’t stay anymore, Taeyang leaves in silence.

A walk through quiet streets. Some ights flicker on and off, broken, some unchangably dark, abandoned due to budget cuts. The sun has set a while back. While most people are busy with their everyday struggles, you and Taeyang are taking slow steps with fingers interlocked. Every few minutes his hip hits yours, seemingly on accident, but just a look at his sly smile is enough to let you know it’s intentional.

“How could you? I’m your boyfriend!” echoes from his contorted lips. “And a sore loser! Can’t I win every once in a while?” His sad eyes and closed mouth answer without a need for words: no, you can’t. Taeyang does a poor attempt at nonchalant shrugging, but his release of the controller means that the game has ended. Only hugs and kisses of affirmation manage to pull his lips into a smile.

The mornings when you wake up beside him. Rays of sunshine fall on his face, gently pulling him out of dreamland. You’re there to witness his first frown, delicate stir, and a turn to his other side, to escape the sun. Before he can register what’s going on around, soft mumbles leave his mouth. So quiet, you need to lean forward to hear better. That’s when he strikes - by kissing your ear. “Eww!” Taeyang just laughs.

HWIYOUNG

Laughing at the sight of a very confused Sanghyuk exiting the toilets. You were meant to wait for him, but Youngkyun couldn’t pass a chance to mess with the poor guy. “We’ll come out after he suffers long enough.” the boy whispers in your ear, his breath warm on the thin skin of a helix. Lean and strong fingers are innocently placed on your side, as if to keep you close, not in place. Perhaps it’s out of his mind, but you? You are more than comfortable there.

The way he embraces you like fine china. It’s so delicate, you’re sometimes worried he doesn’t want to indulge in any physical affection. When the thought crosses your mind, you loosen the grip on his sides. But instead of a sigh of relief, Youngkyun gives you a look of surprise. Questions of genuine worry are quick to follow. And if you have nothing to say, he will make you talk.

Pulling at his hand to follow you inside the store. Youngkyun sighs, reminding you of arrangements you made earlier, but the place looks so inviting, meetings lose their appeal. “Just 5 minutes.” he eventually relents. How does one tell you no? Inside, you’re leading him from a display to display, marveling at the products. Hurrying goes out of your heads, and when you finally leave, you’re late. But Youngkyun doesn’t seem to mind, too busy laughing at the bag of purchases hung on your arm.

The callouses on his hands. You’re massaging them, as if something as simple as smoothing down rougher patches of skin could delete them. It’s not your intention. Rather than anything, you find the feeling of them under your fingertips therapeutic. Youngkyun never comments on the habit, his hands always free when it comes to you. In private, he sometimes even adds foreahead kisses as a bonus.

The feeling of pride living rent-free in your head. Just a look at Youngkyun reminds you of the many reasons he’s so great. His ears redden as soon as he realizes you’re watching, too lost in the sight to be awakened by anything other than loud speech. “Stop!” he gently pushes you away. Maybe you do stop for a while, but the need to look returns soon after.

CHANI

The deathly grip of his hand on your elbow. Its suddenness throws you off, until the sight of his awkward smile comes on display. Leave it to Chanhee to get a bit dramatic with how embarrassed one can become. “It’s just my family.” “What if they don’t like me?” his worries seem absurd to you. “There’s not a single person in this world that dislikes you.” Your eyes meet as you detach his hand to hold it properly. “I’ve got you.”

A hug from behind, few words of affirmation and a smile to the side of your head - a mix of three things that make you unable to say no, as long as they’re contributed by Chanhee. He knows it all too well, often with evident slyness to his smiles. No apology tastes sweeter than the one flying out of his warmth breath by your ear.

The automatic motion of giving him your snacks. One for Chanhee, one for your. Another for Chanhee, another for you. He doesn’t seem to notice the hilaroius aspect of the situation, too busy with his phone. And although you do notice, the discovery only slows down your hand, not stop it. After one more, you surprise him with a soft kiss. Then, as his widened eyes center on you, the hand resumes its task. Chanhee doesn’t complain to anything. Still, his gaze stays on your features for a longer while.

The annoyance on his face making you feel so small, you can’t look at him. The argument is still vivid in your memory, words coming back to torture you more than necessary. You think you may go mad from the absurd of it all, but most of all, from the coldness Chanhee is emanating with. “Whatever.” you tell him instead of an usual goodbye. Maybe because you’re too tired by everything, maybe because you want the sound of it to hurt him.

Noticing how comfortable he is around you. There’s a stark difference between the past Chanhee and the present one. Reddening ears, nervous whispering, secrets - all of them are no longer a thing. There are no walls between your lives. Just the reality of having to deal with an extreme case of a “clown”. But Chanhee can’t know you like to call him that, because in revenge he will find you a nickname much worse.

➛ pollenat’s list of reactions

➛ pollenat’s list of shorts

#Ive got uni and script-writing program to balance #so sorry for not updating #and #its the last 5 ways to say i love you for now #more scenarios are coming together #idk if u will even read the tags #kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop reactions #kpop fluff #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfic #sf9 imagines #sf9 au #sf9 reactions #sf9 fluff #sf9 scenarios #sf9 fanfic

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eggytranslations · 4 years ago

Text

Volume 1, Chapter 11-Fate

Content warnings: n/a, maybe prequel to some nsfw?

The night was deathly still; even the candlelight barely flickered.

In this meager space, Shen Qingxuan’s voice was soft, yet it shrouded every corner, his expression serious, even solemn.

With such an expression he had asked, “Shall our separate paths converge into one?”

Yi Mo was somewhat surprised.

How could he not be surprised?

He was originally just a snake, and only because of his cold and unfeeling personality, was he chosen and enlightened by someone who had already ascended to the heavens as an immortal.

He had cultivated for thousands of years, and after one more heavenly trial, he, too, could shed his mortal body and be born anew. Joining the immortal ranks was just a matter of another two or three hundred years. But now there was this mortal, Shen Qingxuan, saying clearly and resolutely: Shall our separate paths converge into one?

Where could that possibly be, Heaven or Earth?

He could tell that Shen Qingxuan did not have the constitution needed for cultivation, which had something to do with his fate. Because of this fate, Shen Qingxuan was destined for prosperity and abundance beyond compare, yet he could only drift about in the mortal realm, endlessly reincarnating. Although he was in dire straits at this moment, it was just a fleeting period of misfortune.

From the first time they met, Yi Mo understood that this was his and Shen Qingxuan’s fate.

They were destined to meet, otherwise why would he, who had always hid himself in the mountains, enter the Shen family’s courtyard on a whim, go so far as to coil himself around the railing in his true snake form to bask in the sun, and let Shen Qingxuan drench him with a cup of hot tea?

Helping him was just a matter of yielding to fate.

As the mortals would say, he was Shen Qingxuan's , fated helper, and assisting him through adversity would allow him to obtain merits as well.

This was inherently a good thing for both parties, and after Shen Qingxuan overcame this calamity, he would naturally follow the currents of fate. In the future when he became some high official, he would no longer have anything to do with him. Yi Mo could care less about the wealth and status of the mortal realm, but Shen Qingxuan’s fate was predestined. With a body weighed down by oppressive, mortal bones, he would never be able to transcend this world.

Moreover, a mortal's life lasted less than a hundred years, and to him a hundred years was just a drop in the ocean. In the future, when Shen Qingxuan died of old age, and his bones returned to dust, he would still look like this, wandering throughout the world. How could their paths converge into one?

Mortals, they were always so greedy. They wanted to live long and healthy, enjoy fame and fortune, and even dared to meet with a yao at the end of the road.

Yi Mo slowly walked over until he stood with his head bowed over Shen Qingxuan, and after intensely scrutinizing him for a long while, he remarked, "I really underestimated you.”

Shen Qingxuan knew that his words were rash, even offensive, but even he did not know why Yi Mo would say something so out of the blue. At this moment, Yi Mo’s expression was as indifferent as usual. Unable to find any clues from his face, Shen Qingxuan decided to take this sentence as a compliment.

He did not expect Yi Mo to drily continue after a pause, “Although you are so thin and weak that even the wind can blow you away, your lust is awfully strong.”

Shen Qingxuan, who did not hear clearly at first, stared at him blankly with his face still turned up. When it dawned on him, a brilliant cloud abruptly blazed across his face. Suddenly unable to speak coherently, he berated hoarsely, "W-what nonsense are you talking about!”

Yi Mo, still standing with his hands clasped behind his back without a single ripple on his face, merely uttered each word slowly, "I saved your life, and promised to restore you to full health, so it is only natural that you want to repay me with your body. But I have not shown any indecent desire, and yet you are already this eager. You have truly surprised me.”

His words were spoken clearly and distinctly, yet they churned Shen Qingxuan’s mind into a muddied bog. He knew perfectly well something was not right, yet his tongue twisted into a knot, rendering him unable to utter a sound.

As he watched Shen Qingxuan’s control rupture into a blush across his face, Yi Mo raised his hand after deliberating for a moment, fingers delicately curled, and touched that shamefully hot face with his fingertips. It seemed as if he were inspecting something and toying with it at the same time. His actions were impetuous, yet Shen Qingxuan was in a complete daze. He did not even think to dodge, and allowed those ice-cold fingers to touch his burning cheeks.

They were so cold. Cold and icy, like lifeless porcelain. Yet soft and nimble, a living being devoid of warmth.

A snake yao—not even a human. Shen Qingxuan truly could not make sense of his deep infatuation. He could not help but gaze at his face through half-lidded eyes, taking in those picturesque and indescribably beautiful features. Then his heart began to flutter in his chest, beating so quickly that it did not make sense. But since when did this world ever make sense?

While in a world of his own, Yi Mo continued to graze his cheeks with his fingertips, taking in their warmth, the delicate skin suffused with a radiant blush. With such thin skin, how could he be this shameless? He opened his palm, turned his wrist, and let his ice-cold palm thoroughly cover that heat source. Extremely warm. A foreign yet familiar warmth flowed through his palm, and he could even feel the faint pulsing of tiny vessels beneath the delicate skin. A moment later, his palm slowly traced Shen Qingxuan’s face, moving from his forehead to his cheekbones, then to his cheeks, before finally resting on his sharp jaw. After enduring those ice-cold caresses for a short while, Shen Qingxuan's face not only did not cool down, but instead grew even hotter until it was scalding to the touch.

Yi Mo was a yao who had lived for over two thousand years; what strange stories had he not heard? Yet he did not understand how this half-crippled mortal of merely twenty or so years could have such ambitions. Nevermind that they were both men, he dared to entertain such delusions between a human and a yao.

Aiya—this truly made him open his eyes.

Absorbed in his own world, Yi Mo caressed him for a while before leisurely retracting his hand and remarking, "Thinner, but still smooth.”

Shen Qingxuan finally reacted with a low "Ah" and instinctively shrank back, coming to his senses and scolding at once, "You think this is a business transaction that you need to inspect before buying?”

Yi Mo raised his eyes and looked straight at him. "So you want to repay me with your body, yet not allow me to appraise the quality?”

Although Shen Qingxuan was still blushing, he had regained his wits for the most part. Seeing Yi Mo speak so directly and shamelessly, with just the two of them alone in this room and almost no distance in between them, Shen Qingxuan decided that he might as well lay down his shame. He murmured, “According to your words, I am only repaying your kindness. But have you ever seen a man offer up his body in the name of gratitude? There are no such records in all those books.”

However as he spoke, Yi Mo stretched out his hand again and untied his belt.

As soon as his belt loosened, Shen Qingxuan pursed his lips and swallowed back what he had wanted to say. All at once his heart realized—It was not that Yi Mo had misunderstood.

He had not misunderstood. Rather, Yi Mo had understood him so well, that he deliberately credited his feelings as mere gratitude. In this way of borrowing and returning, coming and going, repaying a debt was much easier to resolve, without too much entanglement.

––Yi Mo did not want to be entangled with him at all.

Once Shen Qingxuan understood this point, his heart felt like it had been drenched with ice water, the chill permeating his core. Even he could not describe his emotions. But he was somewhat calculating after all, and he recovered without betraying his feelings. He could not compete with that shrewd and experienced old yao. Whatever he says, goes, and Shen Qingxuan could do nothing about it. So he remained motionless, allowing Yi Mo to undress him.

The atmosphere in the room abruptly returned to silence, only the faint rustling of clothes audible.

Shen Qingxuan looked down to see the collar of his robes wide-open, exposing his snow-white inner robe. He watched as those slender yet forceful fingers worked nimbly, loosening the ties on the side of his waist, before untying the next one. When those frigid fingers touched his skin, Shen Qingxuan would shiver, goosebumps rising from his skin.

Sensing his reaction, Yi Mo halted, and after a moment of silence, asked, “Are you still willing to give yourself to me like this?”

Shen Qingxuan was also quiet for a moment, before giving a low chuckle and removing his own crown from his hair. A head of long hair flowed down, the silky strands covering half of his face.

"Since I am repaying your kindness, I should show some sincerity.” The corner of Shen Qingxuan’s lips quirked as he put his hair crown aside and turned back with an easy smile on his face. "Not to mention, you are a snake and cannot freeze me to death. Even if you were a glacier, I would still be willing.”

Hearing his attempt at courage, Yi Mo simply pressed his ice-cold palm firmly against Shen Qingxuan, deliberately making him shudder.

"Then show me your sincerity.”

~~~~~

This chapter is translated by Renee (wooo her first!)

Edited by Eggy and Tao

Happy 520 (an informal valentines day because it sounds like “I love you” in Chinese) so posting one day earlier :~)

Next chapter in two weeks

#a snake encounter #yu she #su hen #danmei #tl #eggytranslations #renee

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ripariansoliloquy · 4 years ago

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Two isn’t company - it’s alone.

Sequel to : Three isn’t a crowd - it’s home.

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Neil/Todd/Charlie

Trigger Warnings: Suicide, panic attacks.

Fandom : Dead Poets Society

Word Count : 1.2k

Author’s Note: I am so sorry for the ending, but that is what I was feeling today oops (If you want me to change, I will.)

For: @ncilpcrry , and my sock, @flowersinherlungs

“For the first time in my whole life, I know what I want to do.

And, for the first time, I am going to do it!.”

Neil had never been happier. His eyes shone with a lustre that Charlie had never seen before. And he should know, having spent an unimaginably long time staring at them. They were doing well - all three of them. Ever since that fateful morning in Neil and Todd’s room, something had changed. Old Charlie would have immediately run away. To be honest, he fought with that instinct on a daily basis still. It wasn't easy to be happy for such an extended period without questioning his right to be happy. Old habits do die hard.

Every morning Todd somehow manages to make them fall even more in love with him. The way he would innocuously, unassumingly fit his face into the crook of Neil’s neck, or wiggle his way under the arm of a sleeping Charlie to be the little spoon - he made them wonder again and again how much love it was possible to hold in one’s heart without combusting. And as for Charlie, he had never felt so loved. Whether it was being hugged breathless, or being complemented on his saxophone till his face matched the colour of the setting sun - he had never known that ‘safe’ is an emotion he would once be familiar with.

They would spend their off-days wrapped up in each other. Every Sunday was spent in a languid tangle of limbs, bathed softly by the sunlight pouring in through the long windows. Most of the time the room was as silent as a cathedral; and to Charlie’s mind it felt like the room was holding its breath, waiting to see when his world would crash and burn, yet again. And when the anxiety got too much, when the breath left his chest in shuddering, heaving gasps, and the world turned dark in front of his eyes; Neil would hold him fiercely to his chest as if he would never, never let go. Todd would hum softly, and card his fingers through Charlie’s hair until the world stopped spinning and air reached his lungs. Until he could breathe again.

Nightmares would weave their way into Neil’s sleep, corroding the peace he so desperately craved. He would scream soundlessly, Todd desperately clinging on from behind to calm him down. On some nights, Todd would manage. On other nights, Todd himself broke down under the weight of Neil’s sorrow and would end up curled around Neil, both of them sobbing heartbreakingly into each other’s shoulders. Charlie would almost always turn up at the door on those days. They didn't know how he knew. He didn't know either. And saxophone pieces would rumble deep in his chest until all three of them were asleep, wrapped up in each other.

There were days Todd could not get up from bed because it was all too much. The world was too loud, too bright, too scary, too demanding and a list of adjectives, all with ‘too’, that was too long. They would take turns being near him on those days. Bringing up food, exchanging notes. Holding Todd’s hand until the grip became sweaty and uncomfortable; and then, continuing to cling on. When the sun would slant westwards, and the lake looked like someone set it on fire, Todd could finally be cajoled down to the fields - his oxygen deprived body would soak in the breeze, and he would finally come back to life.

In all, they were doing well. Admitted, nothing could ever make them well, ever - but, being perfectly honest , this came pretty damn close. Time flew - days full of laughter, heated glances and sunshine refracting into a rainbow through the mosaic of crushed glass that made up the three of them.

And then, that night happened.

Neil was a vision on stage. They felt like they were seeing Neil for the first time. The abundant, brilliant, beautiful Neil they both knew was but a mere shadow of this one. Reborn, resplendent in his new-found confidence and in totality, something ethereal, unearthly; much like the changeling that he was portraying. Much to their chagrin, both Charlie and Todd could recognise little bits of themselves up onstage. Tiny pieces of themselves, woven into his performance. Charlie’s playfulness and the magic of Todd’s shy glances. Todd’s way of shrugging with Charlie’s easy grace of movement. It was all three of them at once, and none of them at all. They barely took a breath throughout the play - wrapped up in a vicious feedback loop, seeing themselves being taken apart and re-moulded in a fascinating kaleidoscope.

But the moment the play got over, and Charlie saw Mr. Perry striding into the greenroom, the world suddenly darkened in front of his eyes. His hands clammed up, and his throat suddenly felt like he had swallowed sandpaper. Todd remained oblivious to what was wrong. That was but natural, he didn't know how damaging Mr. Perry could be. He had not experienced the vitriolic outbursts, the caustic words that were sharper than physical blows could be. He had never seen the effect it had on Neil, how it wore him down to his very bones, how he could barely function on the days he had been “put in his place” by his father.

Todd did realise, soon enough. One look at Charlie’s haunted face was enough to make him run outside, where Neil was being hounded into the cab. And he immediately knew that that was one vision that would haunt him forever. Could eyes that expressive ever be that blank? They spent the rest of the night in a haze. Attempting to reassure each other through half touches, meaningless whispers. Huddling close. Words seemed out of place. Hell, everything seemed worthless and out of place. Todd did not know when he had fallen into a fitful sleep.

Charlie woke him up, with the words that would spend all his waking moments ringing in his years until the day he joined Neil. He heard the words, but he did not believe them. He saw Charlie cry, and he wanted to laugh.

Neil - abundant, radiant, glorious, beautiful Neil.

His Neil.

Their Neil.

He couldn't be gone.

But he was. And he would never come back.

In a way, it was easier for Todd. He immediately accepted the fact that Neil had been irrevocably taken from them. That he was irredeemably, infinitely, gone - never to return. Todd broke down completely and absolutely. Charlie, on the other hand, would continue to wait for Neil at lunch, refusing to swallow a bite until Neil came and sat with them. For Charlie, Neil was just at home, hiding - he would come back. They would find their way back to each other, as they had, millions of times before. That idiot, he thought back with a fond smile, he thought he could hide?

Todd and Charlie began to drift apart. For each other, they were synonymous to Neil; a sharp, unforgiving reminder of what they lost. Seeing each other, and knowing that they were incomplete forever, that they would remain unfinished, an incomplete whole for the rest of their lives would hit them right in the gut and drive the breath out of their barely functioning bodies. And then, Charlie got expelled. Todd stood up for Mr. Keating. They would never get together again. They would forever remain apart, weighed down by their loss; separated by the distance that used to be Neil Perry. They would always love each other, of course. But sometimes. loss outweighs love.

#dead poets society #the dead poets society #Neil Perry #charlie dalton #todd anderson #charlie/neil/todd #anderperry #suicide #panic attacks #fanfic #sequel

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monaownsmyass · 4 years ago

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Hmm I’m pretty bad with being creative so idk if this would make a good fic or not but here’s a suggestion haha. It’s the day that all of that craziness with Benji happened and as soon as you told Zoey she stopped everything that she was doing to be with you. **Basically that diamond scene we got but more fluff, cuteness, kisses, and possible revealing of feelings**

Here you go! Lmk how I did :)

Falling For You

Book: Queen B, Chapter 10 Pairing: Zoey Wade x MC (Bea Hughes) Genre : Fluff, like A LOT of fluff Rating: Nothing explicit, maybe suggestive Word Count: 2,115 A/N: This takes place directly after the whole Benji situation. Zoey's updated diamond scene if I were to write it I guess. No 'horny butterflies' though, sorry lol

"Bea!"

I heard the front door open as Zoey rushed in. I stood up to greet her but before I could say a word, Zoey dropped her bag and enveloped me in a bone-crushing hug, knocking the wind out of me.

"Hey, Zo," I managed to whimper out.

"Ohmygod, Bea, I came as soon as I could," she said softly, her grip on me relaxing. "You have no idea how worried I was."

I wrapped my arms around her neck and rested my cheek against her shoulder. "I'm just glad you're here now."

Zoey pulled back slightly and gave me a kiss on my temple. Taking my hand in hers, she lead me to the couch to sit before pulling one hand away from mine to tuck some stray hair behind my ear. I lean into her soft caress and turn my head slightly to kiss the palm of her hand. My heart was racing faster than it ever had.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" She pulled me into her, laying my head onto her shoulder. I filled her in on everything The T didn't cover while she played with my hair.

When I was done, she met my eyes with pure fury in hers. "He stole your bra? Seriously? Do I need to kill him for you?"

I let out a small giggle, "That's my Zo. Always ready to throw hands."

Her hardened face soften into a smile after my comment. "Well, maybe I'd hire someone. Wouldn't want to break a nail." She paused. "But for you, babe? It'd be worth it."

I placed my head back on her shoulder and sighed in contentment, relieved to have her here beside me. "What would I do without you to fight for me?"

"Apparently you'd do just fine for yourself," she let out a laugh that made my heart burst with joy, "Using your bra as a whip and to choke him? Girl, that's badass! Pretty hot too."

I smirked up at her, "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"You know it, baby," her voice low and suggestive, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Butterflies ruptured in my stomach. I cleared my throat and decided to change the subject. "So, I believe I was promised some pasta and some wine?"

She let out another delightful laugh while scooching me over so she could stand up. I follow her her to the stove only for her to shake her head at me.

"You sit! Your task for today is just to sit still, look pretty and of course, drink this massive glass of wine," she ordered as she poured me a glass of Cabernet and guides me to the bar stool by the waist, gesturing me to sit down. She turned on the radio and moved to the stove to get to work.

"Yes, ma'am," I teased, "I like it when you boss me around."

Zoey looks back at me and our eyes lock, casting a rakish and downright gorgeous grin my way and ooh boy... I'd give up the world just for Zoey Wade to look at me like that for the rest of my life.

"Of course you do," she said as she rolled her eyes, still smiling.

Entranced by her smile I whispered, "How are you so perfect?"

"Well, coming from the most perfect woman I've ever laid my eyes on, that's saying something." Her voice was playful. "But go on."

"You've got to know how much you mean to me. You're amazing, Zo. You're an absolute babe with impeccable fashion sense, a badass that lets no one stand in her way and not to mention extremely talented and kind and caring..."

"Why, thank you! I am all of those things." She turned to face me. " But you forgot one thing." She sauntered towards me, wrapping one arm around my waist and her other hand grabbing my thigh from under. It felt like I've been struck by lightning.

She leaned in closer, foreheads almost touching. "I have incredible taste in women."

I closed my eyes in anticipation, only open them and find those soul-piercing eyes gazing at my lips.

"I want you to kiss me," she breath out. "Show me how much I mean to you."

She didn't have to tell me twice.

I grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her into me, crashing our lips together in a hasten fashion. This kiss, this kiss was not like any of the others we've shared before. It was not like any others I've had before. It was slow, soft, passionate. The kind of kiss that makes you realise that every love story you've heard aren't lies. The kind of kiss that makes you wonder how you've ever lived without experiencing it. The kind that makes your heart skip a beat and soar and heat goes to your cheeks and you become light-headed and weak in the knees and... and... It's the kind of kiss that makes you realise you're falling for someone because wow, if I wasn't already falling for her I sure am now.

I am falling for Zoey Wade.

It felt timeless but it was over all too soon. Before breaking off the kiss, Zoey gently bit my bottom lip and gave it a light tug, making me groan. Not wanting to let her go, I tighten my arms around her.

"Darling," she grinned her charming, brilliant smile at me once again. "The pasta is gonna burn if we don't stopped."

At the mention of food, my stomach gave a grumble. We both giggled as I let her go.

"Alright, alright, but promise me we'll carry on later?" I gave her my best puppy-dog eyes and a pout for good measure.

Zoey smiles softly, softer than I've ever seen. She looks just as smitten as I felt and the thought alone was enough to make me giddy.

Once she was done, Zoey served us the pasta she's prepared. Dinner was an exercise, trying to focus on the food and not the ethereal being sitting opposite me. Everything she did was distracting. From the way she bit into the food to her hand gestures and to the way her eyes lit up when she laughed. She was intoxicating.

We worked our way through multiple servings of pasta and the rest of the bottle of the Cabernet. I helped Zoey put the dishes and glasses into the dishwasher as I thanked her.

"It seems like you're good at everything."

"Of course, babe! Don't you remember who you're talking to?" she said playfully.

I smiled endearingly at her. That's my Zo.

"Now c'mon! It's my job for tonight to take care of you so tell me, how can I help you relax?" She trailed a soft hand along my cheek, electricity sizzling where she touched me.

"Well, I'm pretty sure you promised me a make out sesh," I reminded her nonchalantly.

Wasting no time, she dragged me to my room and lightly shoved me onto the bed. I plopped clumsily on the bed as Zoey climbed over me, resting her body against mine. She lowered her lips to my ear and muttered, "Are you relaxed yet?"

"A little, I think you should kiss me just to be safe."

And kiss me she did. It was as thrilling as the previous kiss. She kissed me just as tenderly, savouring me as if I might disappear if she pulls away.

A hand that was on my cheek moved down to my breast and gave it a squeeze. I let out a small moan and felt her smile through the kiss. Her hand then made its way further down, caressing my stomach and thighs delicately.

In a swift motion, she grasped my thigh hard enough to leave a mark and hiked it up to her waist, pushing herself closer into me in the process.

"Oh, Zoey!" I was already feeling heady at this point.

Her lips left mine to kiss down my jaw to my neck, marking me as she made her descend. After a while, she kissed her way back up my jaw, trailing to my ear. She placed a hand on my chest, over my heart and mumbled, "Hmm, you definitely don't feel relaxed."

"Shut up," I grinned playfully and pulled her lips to meet mine once again.

It could've only been a few minutes or a couple hours but eventually, we stopped. Zoey laid her head on my chest and closed her eyes, trailing patterns on my skin with a perfectly manicured finger. I heard the light drizzle from outside turn into a heavy downpour as I held this breathtaking woman in my arms. I caught a whiff of her floral shampoo from her gorgeous dark curly hair as I tilted my head down to look at her. I let out a big sigh, feeling absolutely blissful.

I felt Zoey shift slightly. Afraid she might try to get up, I encircle her waist with my legs while my arms squeezed her as much as I could.

"Bea!" she shrieked and giggled, squirming in my embrace. "I'm gonna die!"

"I'm never letting you go!" I giggled with her.

She stopped struggling after a while and stretched her neck to look up at me. "Bea," she spoke my name in a slow, flirtatious manner. A prayer on her lips.

"Yeah?" In a moment of weakness, she jumped out of my embrace and ran out of my room.

"Come get me, slowpoke!" she called out while laughing.

I chased her all around the apartment while cursing her.

"Damn you and your long legs!"

She just laughed that radiant laugh of hers.

I don't know how or when it happened, but she was the one who was trying to catch me instead by the end of our little game of catch.

"I've caught you! No escaping now, beautiful," she bragged as she held me in a bear hug.

"Oh no, I'm in the arms of a very attractive woman, whatever shall I do?" I feigned distress.

"You think you're so funny, huh, babe?"

"I'm hilarious." I brought my arms around her waist and leaned up to give her a peck on the lips.

"If you say so," she replied while bending a little to kiss the tip of my nose.

We just stood there for a moment, holding onto each other while listening to the rain that was beginning to subside and to the music that was playing softly in the background from the radio. I've never felt more at home.

Following a moment of silence, Zoey spoke up, "Bea, I just want to say I'm sorry for pushing you onto Professor Kingsley so much especially since I know you don't even like her." She took a deep breath and exhaled. "I... at first I didn't even realise myself why I was so insistent about it. I kept telling myself it's cuz it was the only way to overthrow Poppy. I was in denial about my feelings. Then the whole Benji thing happened and I realised how worried I was and it's just... Flirting with you is second nature to me cuz I'm used to it but this is all so new to me and I didn't know how to process it. I guess what I'm trying to say... what I'm saying is..."

My heart was hammering out of my chest. I've never felt this way for anyone before either but I knew I had to tell her too. It felt right.

"IthinkImfallingforyou!" I blurted out before she could finish.

She held me back a little and looked at me, her captivating brown eyes peering into mine. "What?"

I took a deep breath.

"I think I'm falling for you, Zoey Wade," the words coming out quietly and cautiously.

Her face went from confusion to realisation to shock then to sheer excitement all in the span of a few seconds.

"I think I'm falling for you, too, Bea Hughes."

I let out a small laugh in relief.

I snuggled back into Zoey as she placed a loving kiss on the top of my head.

It was probably pretty late and we had classes the next day. But right then, the both of us sharing small laughs and kisses every now and then, enjoying each other's warm embrace while swaying to the tune of some random song in the dim lighting of our dinning area, I knew I would've rather spend another hour right there than a lifetime anywhere else.

All my worries and stress faded away as I looked up at her stunning face.

How could I've not fallen from Zoey Wade?

(More fics!)

#its been a while since ive wrote anything lol #zoey x mc #zoey wade #qb: zoey #zoey qb #queen b #qb #choices: qb #qb choices #choices #choices: stories you play #pb #pixelberry #choices fanfiction #queen b fanfiction

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elfy-elf-imagines · 4 years ago

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Cruel Summer | Orophin | Preview

Completed Version Here

Pairing: Orophin x Human!reader

Genre: Angst in the forms of heartbreak

Warnings: Heartbreak; unrequited feelings...??

Words: ~5k (oh boy is it a long one)

Note: Let me know if you’d like to be tagged when I post the full oneshot.♡

~ Also, I haven’t given this the full editing treatment yet, so things will more than likely be switched or changed when I post the full oneshot, so please ignore any mistakes :D ~

“You lean too heavily to your right, did you know that?”

The voice pierced through the silence that surrounded you, disturbing the intense concentration you held. You jumped, body instantly tighten at the intrusion. You stumbled forward like a child not capable of holding up their own body, only barely managing to not plant onto the ground.

And in your fright, the hand that tightly gripped the bow string loosed and before you could react the arrow was released. It pathetically sailed through the arrow, bearing too far to the right. It only managed to get halfway through the training ground before it fell to the ground, like a limp noodle.

Whirling your body, a scowl overcoming your face, you saw Orophin. He was only a few paces away from you, holding a bright red apple that he brought to his mouth and took a bite from. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes when he started making exaggerated noises of delight, his eyes shut as if the apple were the most euphoric things he'd tasted.

He looked immaculate and radiant as ever, like a angel sent down to Earth.

You hated it.

“What was that for?” you exclaimed, your very short fuse exploding. “You ruined a perfectly good shot!”

He finished chewing the piece of apple he bit off and then tossed it into the trees. One ashen eyebrow quirked at you as Orophin sauntered towards you, walking with the relaxed confidence only he could manage and a sly smirk on his face. Like clockwork, your heart began pounding in your chest and your face heated up.

And he knew it too, you could see it in the way his smirk widened just a fraction and his eyes lit up with amusement.

So you just scowled deeper, narrowing your eyes at him in hope of convincing not only him, but yourself that he didn’t have any effect on you.

Biggest lie of the century.

“If it was perfectly good it would’ve hit the target?” he said, his words teasing and light.

“Well it would’ve if you didn’t distract me!” you replied. You were seething, not because of the arrow, but because of Orophin. He was confusing and infuriating, and perfect in every way. And you hated yourself, hated yourself because you couldn’t hate him, not really.

“Are you saying I’m distracting? My lady, I am flattered that you can’t focus on anything just by merely hearing my voice!” he exclaimed, smirk contorting into a full blown smile. It’s blindingly bright and captivating, everything the sun shining down on Lothlorien was.

“That’s not that I said you i-idiot!”

“Really? That’s what I heard,” he replied, closing the distance between the two of you. He stopped a few inches away from you, close enough that you could hear his heartbeat and feel his breath fanning against you, and if you tried hard enough, you’d momentarily make contact if you breathed hard enough. The intoxicating scent of trees, rain, and something else that was distinctly Orophin. You hated how dizzy it made you feel and you hated that it was easily the sweetest smell you’ve experienced.

He placed his hand on your tense shoulder and began to turn your body. With eyebrows that nearly touched your hairline, you opened your mouth, attempting to demand to know what he was doing, but nothing came out except for a pitiful squawk. He turned your body until you were facing the direction of the training field, staring straight at the target you previously attempted to hit.

“Relax, you’re as tense as Haldir when we’re on patrol.” He practically purred in your ear, the air from his words tickling your ear in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

“What are you doing?” You were cautious and on high alert, full well knowing how things with Orophin usually ended.

“Fixing your form. it’s not bad for a human, but you’re with the Eldar now, mell nin,” he whispered. Orophin wrapped one arm around your waist and brought the other one to rest underneath the elbow of your bow arm. His touch is light and delicate, feeling more like the caress of a ghost than a corporeal person. And like a machine, you brought the bow up into position, placing a fresh arrow into proper position with a single fluid movement.

“Mell nin. That means my dear?” You turned to face him, eyes widened like a doe as you carefully watched his face. His eyes locked with yours, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. He grinned at you with a look more radiant and shining than before. Gods, you could go blind if you stared at him for too long, but it would be worth it. Blindness wouldn’t be so bad if his face would be burned into your mind for the rest of your life.

“You’ve been catching on”

“Sometimes I listen,” you replied, keeping your voice low so as to not disturb the quiet aura that encapsulated the two of you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Orophin this soft with you, usually he was all mischief and sex appeal. But now he was… at ease and relaxed, like he didn’t have to put on any airs.

It was… nice.

Your lips tilted upwards as your eyes shined like starlight. Your erratic heartbeat slowed until it was in time with Orophin’s. Your eyes flickered down to his lips then back to his eyes. He followed your movements, not eyeing you like a predator but with… something else. Something you’ve seen the elves share with their husband or wife, the type of softness and vulnerability only present with someone you really care about.

And then it’s suddenly cold. And before you have a chance to even blink, Orophin is gone.

#orophin #orophin x reader #orophin imagine #lord of the rings #lord of the rings imagine #lord of the rings oneshot #LOTR #lotr imagine #lotr oneshot #lothlorien #lothlorien elves #Lothlorien Imagine #cruel summer #song inspired oneshot #unrequited love #preview #Elfy elf imagine

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thequietabsolute · 1 year ago

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The Boeing tore off through shawls of cloud, the hurtling moment of risk and death ended with a musical Bing! and we entered the peace and light above. My head lay on the bib and bosom of the seat and when the Jack Daniel's came I strained it through my irregular multicolored teeth, curling my forefinger over the top of the glass to hold back the big perforated ice cubes — they always put in too many. The thread of whisky burned pleasantly in the gullet and then my stomach, like the sun outside, began to glow, and the delight of freedom also began to expand within me. … Once in a while, I get shocked into upper wakefulness, I turn a corner, see the ocean, and my heart tips over with happiness — it feels so free! Then I have the idea that, as well as beholding, I can also be beheld from yonder and am not a discrete object but incorporated with the rest, with universal sapphire, purplish blue. For what is this sea, this atmosphere, doing within the eight-inch diameter of your skull? (I say nothing of the sun and the galaxy which are also there.) At the center of the beholder there must be space for the whole, and this nothing-space is not an empty nothing but a nothing reserved for everything. You can feel this nothing-everything capacity with ecstasy and this was what I actually felt in the jet. Sipping whisky, feeling the radiant heat that rose inside, I experienced a bliss that I knew perfectly well was not mad.

— Saul Bellow, from Humboldt’s Gift (1975.)

#saul bellow #humboldt's gift #literature #1970s #high table #just the most exquisite paragraph #✨

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lokispettigerr · 5 years ago

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Washed In Moonlight: Loki x Female Reader (NSFW) SMUT

So sorry all that I have to repost and retag everyone! Tumblr ate my fic. I mean if it was delicious it could have just said so. Summary: While attending a party on Asgard, Reader stumbles upon Loki and is surprised at what she finds. As she retreats to her quarters she runs into trouble and an unexpected reunion and boiling tensions. Warnings: Non-con, Whump, Damsel Arch-type, Bondage Word Count: 4242 A/N: Yes, this is reader being a damsel arch-type which is not something I condone, but to be fair I really needed this. I needed a reader that was going to be stood up for, taken care of, and not left behind. I am really hoping this is something you might need to. Taglist: @njavezan @lovelyxserpent-br @kamaroon @britkane-shsl-librarian @not-made-of-glass @archy3001 @witch-loki @purplekitten30 @mad-doctor-mew @bakerstreethound @jmb959 @little-moonbeam-666 @bingewatchingmylifegoby @fkngparadise @lucywindigo @screw-real-life-i-pick-fandoms @chocolatealmondmilkk @mellowgirl01 @fyeahlitaajpunk @drakesfiance @wicked-starlight-collector @kenzieam @sherlocksuperfan666 @confessionsofastrugglingteen @joseyslo @ms-munchkin @saintwiz @thathedonistgirl @thegrandmasterschampion @this-side-of-midnight5 @lokislilslut @vioietta @rainthekittycatsblog @fire-in-her-veinz @cutie1365 @puff1408 @joyofbebbanburg @brokenthelovely @tehgvicious @lovelylazerbeams @fyrecrafted @lilith-akemi @sarcsep @alexakeyloveloki @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @iris-suoh @brucesflightattendant666 @station1485 @disney-kingdom-hearts @bluestaratsunrise @devilbat @smolangstbean @dangertoozmanykids101 @dracosmudbloodd @barelyreality @laochbaineann @steampowerednightvaler @shockwavee @wegingerangelica @nightrose64 @wegingerangelica @calamity-queen @mischeviousliar @zainabmmm @micki-smiles @kara-kimura @pinkzz123 @rightfulkingofjotunheim @cyenakarma @holykryptonitekitten @avenging-blackwidow @dragon--dragon @onelazy-cat @doralupin01 @hp-hogwartsexpress @lokislilslut @cherrygeek86 @fandoms-wither-me-away

The liquid in the crystal glass was of the darkest garnet and I swirled it around meticulously.

A shadow passed on quick feet and the air stirred feeling like an icy wind had just blown past me.

I glanced up, my eyes landing on Loki’s broad, leather-clad shoulders.

Most of the night he had been lounging around on one side of the palace ballroom. I had tried to hide many of my attempts at watching him behind the glass of wine I had been drinking.

I was certain he could not see me watching him as I made the shadows my friends and let them swallow me up. He was washed in the golden glow of the candelabras, but all the while I thought he would have been more at home in the shadows with me.

He had lounged against the far wall, cooler than ever, listening to an animated conversation before him. His head was tilted down and ever so often he would peek up, a strand of his dark hair against his temple, only to look back down again.

Women and men had been drawn to him throughout the evening. With each exchange, he seemed to grow more agitated. Encounter after tiresome encounter I watched, until finally around the corner another patron came. She was brazen, thinking her chances with the Prince would be far better than her predecessors.

Whatever words flowed from her mouth were likely the supplications he experienced on a day-to-day basis and I watched as she reached out to stroke his shoulder. I straightened, focusing on his reaction, wondering if he would finally embrace this woman’s attention. Loki dodged her caress and made a face I could only judge as sheer and utter disgust. He pushed passed her, rudely, obviously too drained from the evening for any pleasantries.

Loki did an odd thing as he walked elsewhere in the ballroom. He searched the crowd of faces. I was sure he was looking for someone, almost as if glancing them would set his mind at ease.

I had been given as a gift to Odin’s family years ago, but the palace was so big and so vast and so deep that I lived on one side of the universe while Loki inhabited all the rest.

I felt like I fit the common storyline-- a princess locked away in a tower. A pretty little thing collected, polished for a time to a beautiful glean, cast aside and forgotten about-- only taken out to be paraded like a broodmare in heat at gatherings such as the one I was watching the Prince of Asgard at now. All the while, from the first encounter with Loki, I had desired him.

I watched as Loki stood for a time with his brother, Thor. However, he must have grown bored of his brother’s animated grunting because he pushed off the wall with his heel to begin walking into the shadows, underneath the torch lights to the vestibule outside.

I held the glass of liquid courage to my lips, gulped it down, feeling the fire trail down my throat and began to walk towards where Loki stood. His palms were planted on the wall of the balcony, his broad shoulders spread wide. I twinged thinking about running my own palms over the leather that adorned his broad, muscled shoulders.

Loki heard me approaching.

He was never one to be taken by surprise-- he always had his guard up. I often wondered if he hid behind it so the real world could no longer harm him.

My hips softly bumped the balcony. I didn’t look at Loki; I knew that if I did I might dart back to the party, to safety and comfortable invisibility.

Unsure of what to do with my hands, I picked at my fingers, settling on placing them in front of me on the balcony, the metal of the palace surprisingly cool against my damp palms.

I was beginning to feel woozy and I splayed my fingers wide. My pinky finger accidentally bumped Loki’s.

Loki’s head snapped towards me, his eyes were set in a hateful scowl and I shrank into myself, my eyes widening out of fear and self-preservation.

“Is there something you need?” Loki hissed.

“What? No. I, er…” I trailed off.

“You could not possibly have grown tired of the charade taking place in the eastern ballroom?”

I looked at him, parting my lips to speak only to close them tightly again.

The “liquid courage” I had downed must have been catching up to me. My body pushed against the balcony, leaning out too far over the edge, the wind softly tugging at my hair and a strand came loose to float away from my face.

Loki’s hands shot out, grabbing my arms tight enough to leave red marks.

“Could you be more careful?” He asked, his voice full of disdain.

I snickered inappropriately, his anger seemed funny and not so scary anymore, “What is it to you?”

Loki surprised me further, for the first time since meeting him, he seemed genuinely shocked. His jaw slackened and his eyes became lidded-- it was evident he was reinforcing his ever-present wall. But was it for his protection or mine?

“Enjoy the night,” he said in a hushed tone. He turned away from me, his hand remaining against the stone wall before he began to walk away, “You look radiant washed in the moonlight, Y/N.”

I grabbed the balcony to steady myself at his words. What had possessed him? I had never heard him utter my name and the way he said it, like honey slipping from his lips. Never had a name sounded so completely erotic-- like some dirty deed had taken place.

I didn’t want to be there anymore; I felt small and alone. I had a balcony attached to my bedchambers anyway, I could just as easily stand there looking out over all of Asgard. Of course, I knew, seeing all of our world before me would do nothing to abate the ever-present feeling of being alone.

As I walked back through the palace I kept my head down, shame making me a prisoner to my thoughts. Loki’s face haunted me, how he had looked at me with what I thought was annoyance or anger, but later how he had softened towards me. Isn’t that what I had always wanted?

Before I knew it, I was turning down an unlit corridor. Throughout the palace were lanterns and other torches that burned brightly at all hours of the night, but this corridor… What had happened? I wasn’t expecting it and my mind was still fuzzy from the spirits I had imbibed. I stumbled. Picking myself up, I shook my head, trying to clear my vision and make the walls stop spinning.

My hand shot out in the dark to fumble blindly against the stone wall. Each step I took was more unsure than the last.

I heard something, like the heel of a boot against the cool stone floor. “Anyone here?” I asked, but only the wind howling against the wall of the palace answered.

All at once, I turned a bend and ran into something solid-- unmistakably a male body. I squeaked in surprise.

“Aren’t ye a pretty thing?” The voice was slurred and the scent of wine assaulted my nostrils.

“William, look what we have here. The wet heat between her legs was most like seeking us out.”

“What? No, no I didn’t,” I said, almost as confused as I had been when I was with Loki on the balcony at the party.

The voice receded and another man, bigger than the first, placed his unwelcome, tree-trunk arms around my waist dwarfing me-- making me feel like I was in danger of being crushed.

I sniffed, straightening up as much as my clouded mind would allow me too, “Please unhand me.”

The men laughed, “Please?” William spat, “What lovely manners you have been trained to ‘ave.

“Now stop that, no one is letting you leave. Besides our mates wouldna like it if you didn’t come for a visit.” They both laughed boisterously.

“No, no, this is a mistake!”

William picked me up as I kicked, my feet dangling in the air, striking nothing.

I drew in a deep breath to let out an ear-splitting scream but before I could, a gag was placed between my wine-stained lips. “Can’t have ye drawing unwanted attention to yerself.”

“Oh come off it,” the first voice said, “it is obvious by the way she dresses that she wants attention. None of it’s unwanted.”

They both laughed.

I wouldn’t cry, but the fear that gripped my heart with it’s long, icy fingers made me long to. At least my tears would be warm.

As William dragged me I would go between bouts of no movement to complete rage driven fighting, my nails scraping against the wall, bloodletting from my fingertips.

I thought I had been everywhere in the castle, but I found that I was wrong.

The men who held me captive passed through a passageway and I lost all sense of where I was.

The further we went, the deeper into the bowels of the castle we traveled. A part of me wondered if they were taking me deep into Hel.

Finally, I was thrown to the ground, miraculously landing on my hands and knees.

I scrambled trying to get up but before I could someone grabbed me by the hair, as it had come loose in our descent.

“I heard whores like being treated roughly and we’re glad to accommodate,” a crackly voice said.

I was pulled to my feet and forced against a grimy wall, my arms raised above my head and chained. The gag was removed from my lips.

“I beg your pardon! I’m not a whore!”

The man put one stubby finger to my lips, shushing me.

“Wait here,” the man rasped.

As he walked away I studied my surroundings. It was as if I had been brought to some underground club of some sort.

Raucous men were all about drinking, playing games, and cursing one another. Serving wenches sashayed from table to table filling glasses and stroking shoulders, bowing low enough before the men’s wandering stares to expose the tops of their bosoms.

My eyes wandered up to the chains that confined my wrists and I tugged at them testing their strength-- the cool metal bit into my flesh as they were achingly tight.

Another woman, dressed in scanter clothing than I pranced towards me, stopping along the wall next to me. “Alfred, tie me up would you love?” she called out and the man who had confined me to the wall merrily obliged.

He glanced at me tugging at my restraints, obviously and futilely trying to escape. “You’d be wise to learn a thing or two about whoring from Winfred here, young bitch.”

Winfred acted as if she noticed me for the first time, “Who is she? I’ve never seen her in the brothel, Albert-- Madame Duncan must have gotten a new brood of vipers to tend to you rough lot!” She cackled, “You must stop being so rough with them, Albert! You will ruin us all!”

They both laughed together at a joke that I did not care to find humorous.

Albert walked away.

A tear shed from my eye as I began to feel more hopeless.

“Ah, now don’t cry, there is no need for tears. I’ll show you how it is done,” Winfred crooned.

“But I’m not supposed to be here,” I replied.

“I thought that too many times when I first began. But now I have five mouths to feed.”

I did not respond, too saddened by both what Winfred was sharing and my own predicament.

“Listen, deary, just go to a place in your mind that brings you the most calm,” Winfred paused, “Mine is the farm I grew up on-- truly peaceful. Oh! Here comes a patron now, you’ll be fine.”

I watched a stout man approach chained Winfred, he lifted her skirts and shoved himself into her with a grunt. She whimpered and grimaced, but then began moving with the man moaning with a smile on her lips. She was a good actress.

I couldn’t continue to watch; if I didn’t want to go through what Winfred was going through now I needed to escape. But how? I looked away, biting my lip, fighting back what felt like a constant stream of tears.

I was so occupied with finding my escape that I didn’t hear the brute approach.

“Crying are ye?” His hot, rancid breath blew on my face.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing you aren’t getting paid more than fair for.” He knelt forward, pushing my head against the wall so he could whisper in my ear.

“Keep up the tears and struggling whore, I like to use force.”

I began to tremble, “No! No, please stop!” I cried.

“Just like that.” His hand went to my skirts, pulling and bunching them up.

The roar of the patrons in the room that had been the constant sound since my arrival suddenly quieted to a murmur and then a hush.

The energy in the room became a stiff tension and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I felt *danger* with every fiber of my being, screaming at me to run, to get away. The man who was raping me was nothing compared to the feeling of this new threat.

The man in front of me sensed the same danger and he stepped back, his body trembling.

There before me was Loki, lethal energy radiating from him in powerful waves. Words were not needed to convey to the patrons his full-bodied rage. He stepped towards me, and his energy consumed me, threatening to make my body catch fire.

His lips touched my ear, “Who brought you here?”

I wanted to point, to throw around accusations, but my hands were still confined to their iron cuffs.

Loki followed my gaze, his eyes resting on the metal that bit into my flesh.

“Let’s get you home.” His hands covered mine, they were cool and a welcome sensation to the wounds that were lighting my nerves on fire.

I could hear the soft clink of the cuffs unlocking, and my wrists were released. “Can you walk?” Loki inquired.

I nodded but Loki grabbed my arm and supported me.

Foolishly, the man who had been violating me placed his hand on Loki’s chest in a desperate attempt to stop him and to gather what little reputation he may have had left.

Loki turned to the man like a venomous pit viper, a misplaced smile on his face, “This is not the last time you will see my face, you can be sure of it.” Loki pushed past the man and turned towards me as we walked away, his voice was gentle, “Come along now.”

Surprisingly, Loki knew how to get out of all the twisting and winding tunnels that led to the secret chamber, and even more so that he knew exactly where my chambers were located. Perhaps it was silly of me to take note of it, it was his home after all, but I couldn’t help wonder that perhaps he had been making a point to keep tabs on me after all.

Upon entering the room, Loki looked at me, his eyes full of concern and determination.

“I’ll call for your maidservant to bathe you.”

“No, please.” I sounded scared and I tried to relax a bit, “Don’t leave.”

“Well, alright. Stay here while I draw a bath.”

I stood, afraid to sit down for fear of being unable to stand.

Loki returned, steam pulsating enchantingly from the piping hot bath.

I tried to undo my bodice, but my fingers were still shaking. I pulled at the strings, but only managed to knot them further.

Loki’s fingers appeared before me, gently pushing my own fingers aside. He deftly undid my bodice while my eyes went to his face to watch his expression.

His fingers fell away to allow me to unclothe myself without his eyes upon me, but I pulled his hands back.

“Don’t stop, please.”

Loki’s eyes flashed with recognition at my request, as if I was a perfectly wrapped present he was being allowed to finally unwrap after a long wait.

Without hesitation, he pushed back the opening of the bodice and it fell to expose my shift.

My breath caught in my throat.

His eyes were on fire with lust and he glanced at me through dark lashes looking for my approval to continue, as if he half expected me to stop him.

I grasped his hand, my fingers unusually cold, and slowly slid them up my form to my breasts.

His eyes closed, the lids fluttering. I heard a low grumble in his throat indicating his pleasure.

His fingers closed around my breasts, softly squeezing them and his body moved closer in response to his arousal.

I noted how he towered over me, making me feel safe and child-like.

His hands slid to the neckline of my shift and he lightly slid it down my shoulders to fall in a heap around my ankles.

I was completely and utterly exposed, the cool air of the chamber rushed to my skin like a lost lover, causing my nipples to stand harshly erect and chill bumps to spread along my skin.

Loki leaned closer, resting his forehead against mine. He shook his head back and forth, as if restraining his own animalistic desires.

“Your bath will get cold,” he stated.

“I don’t care.”

“Bath, now.” Loki purred, a smile resting on his lips.

He held me close to his muscled form, lovingly and slowly backed me towards the piping hot water.

I knew that if I took a bath he would leave.

“I am staying right here. I want to be sure you are alright.”

I stepped into the bath, the tendrils of steam falling and twirling around my skin as I lowered myself into the fragrant water.

A sigh escaped my lips.

I settled into the water, reclining, “Why are you being so kind to me, Loki?”

“How do you mean?”

“Why do you care?” I asked, “You never have seemed to before.”

Loki straightened, apparently wounded by my words.

“I have always cared, which is precisely why I have tried to keep my distance.” My gaze was a prisoner in his own, “Do you not see I am no better than the man who...who…” Loki paused, his anger clouding his thoughts, “violated you.” He hissed venomously. “I am dangerous, Y/N.”

“How can you possibly think that, Loki? You helped me get away from that place, they were never letting me leave. They truly believed me to be a whore.”

“A *whore*?” Loki echoed. His nostrils flared and heat seethed from him.

Loki picked up a pitcher sitting next to the bath, in an attempt to distract himself from the anger that threatened to turn his vision red.

Hot water rushed into the pitcher as he dunked it and then poured it repeatedly over my sensitive skin. Over and over again until I felt at one with the cleansing flow.

The water stopped and the world seemed to still.

I opened my eyes, to find Loki staring at my lips.

“You are so frustratingly beautiful.” I leaned forward, my back coming off the tub.

“You want to kiss me.”

“Yes, and I want to do so much more to you… I want to do bad things to you. Don’t think for a second that I could not have done all of them and more.”

I brought my lips closer to his, my eyes looking determinedly into his, “Do them.”

“I never once told you after finding you that you were safe. You can be certain you are not. You are no safer now than you were before I found you.”

And with that, faster than a bolt of lightning striking a tree to light it on fire, Loki was upon me.

His lips coaxing my own, making my body rise out of the water like a Kraken hunting for a ship.

Water was dripping from my hair, sliding down my breasts, and coating the lips of my womanhood.

I left the tub behind and we moved towards the bed.

The pillowy mattress gave way under me and my wet hair splayed around my head like Medusa’s coils.

Loki’s broad shoulders were above me and I rested my hands on them.

“Are you certain?” He asked.

Logically, after what I had just been through, I knew I should not want this. Not now. Yet, Loki tugged on my heartstrings, and every atom, every cell that made me, *Me*, sang for him, craved him, and belonged to him as if he was my creator and as if he was my God.

“I have never been more certain of anything in my life.” With that, we took one another, like some drug or some medicine for the soul.

My hands grabbed at his clothes, unfastening and removing them until he was laid bare before me.

I traced over his marble-like skin, my fingertips caressing his scars and pleasure spots with an unfeigned sense of dedication and curiosity.

Loki had magic in his fingertips and they were rolling and caressing my wet labia and ever increasingly sensitive clit. My body would jerk and my hips would buck as his thumb would roll around my clit, commandingly.

I could feel a roiling heat within me, a volcanic rupture of neurons and passion threatening to release.

I was maddened with a sense of urgency to make him feel the same.

My hand slid from his chiseled shoulder, turning, my knuckles gliding over the hard ridges of his abdomen. My fingers grazed over the neatly groomed, dark hair to close solidly around his cock.

I could feel my pupils dilating with heated excitement as I felt his manhood pulsating and the veins protruding. I looked up to find his pupils, the same dark pits as my own, threatening to be my demise.

I carefully pushed the head of Loki’s cock toward my opening. One flick of the tip against my clit would surely send me into oblivion. I wasn’t ready for that just yet.

His cock pressed harshly against my lips. I could feel his excitement between the tips of my fingers.

Loki’s hips surged forward, his cock plunging into me and I cried out in painful pleasure. My back arched and his arm slid between the arch and the mattress pulling my body closer to his.

He lifted me with him as he moved creating a most desirable friction.

Loki’s chiseled abs tightened with each thrust.

“So wet for me,” Loki breathed against my lips as he kissed me, “So soft.”

He moved his arm from behind my back, his fingers greedily raking against my skin. Loki’s fingers closed around my throat, they splayed wide enough to push against my jaw making me tilt my head up and to the side.

Loki pulled back just enough to look at the mess I had become.

I watched as he slowly and forcefully pushed further into me, only to slide out and do it all again.

“Mine,” he growled, full of conviction.

His fingers tightened and his hips pushed ever deeper, “You are *Mine*.”

Loki was right. I was exactly where I belonged.

His words, his touch, his movements and our intimacy finally allowed me to cum. It blew through my body like a forest fire urged on by the wind. Through it all, I felt Loki joining me. He cried out, hips pushing, muscles twitching as his hot cum poured into me.

Loki filled me. Where once I was empty he had taken up indefinite residence.

I could not help but meditate on our undeniable connection as I drifted off to sleep. All the while he whispered how beautiful I was washed in the moonlight.

The next morning I awoke to find the covers pushed aside and someone else in the room with me.

“The Prince left in the wee hours of the morning, but wanted me to tell ye he would be back for you, Mistress.” I was shocked to see Winfred. “What are you doing here? Are you alright, Winfred?” I asked. I never thought I would see her again.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I am more than grateful to the Prince for hiring me as your maidservant.” A dreamy look misted her eyes, “The way he talks about you… A strong and pure possession.” She clutched at her breasts, “It is as though there is nay anything he wouldna do for ye, Mistress.”

She came closer to me to talk in a hushed voice, “The man, the one that violated you. Some men found him this morning, dead.”

My breath caught in my throat, “What? What happened?”

“Nay anyone knows, Mistress. They say it was the work of the darkest Seidr. Only a most accomplished and powerful sorcerer could leave a trace of the darkest kind.”

My thoughts flooded my mind, yet through it all I wanted nothing more than to be safe in Loki’s embrace once more, after everything he had done for me.

****** I hope you all enjoyed it! So sorry that I had to repost this because Tumblr ate it! I lost all my good comments, likes and reblogs. I’m sad. Anyway, if you enjoyed give me a comment and reblog. If you would like to be added to the Loki and/or Tom general taglist please send me an ask. If you don’t I may miss it. Until next time, Loki’s Pet Tiger

#loki fanfic #loki #imagine loki #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston loki #tom hiddleston imagine #Loki mcu #loki marvel #loki odinson #loki smut #Loki lemons #smut #loki fluff #fluff #lpt #loki x #loki x reader

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jay-and-dean · 5 years ago

Text

Rescue You Chapter 14 (Last Chapter) : July 27

Dean x reader

Summary : My name is Y/n. I’m the outcast of my witch community. This is the story of how I rescued Dean Winchester, the story of how he saved me.

Serie Warnings : Swearing. Injuries. Smut. Fluff. Angst.

Chapter warning : Smut, unprotected sex (be smart), a hint of edging. Fluff.

Words : 3.3k

Author note : I Broke the 3k words rule again, but this chapter was important for me. It’s almost my dad’s death anniversary so I couldn’t skip that little part. Thank you so much for your support all along this adventure. I hope you like the end.

***Rescue You Masterlist***

***Want to read more ? => MASTERLIST***

__________________________

July 27, 2:22 pm

In the daze of sleep, I rub my face. The room is perfectly quiet and dark. I grunt a little and turn on my side, my arm searching for Dean like every morning –when he’s not already crushing me- but when I don’t find him, I open my eyes.

It’s not morning, it takes me a few seconds and the red numbers in the dark to remember that. Oh, I have been out for two hours. I fell asleep when we came back from hunt… I never fall asleep like that, but I’m still a little weaken by the loss of blood. Stupid Goddess.

I rub the bandage on my wrist and sigh, I won’t call Cas just to fix that. Reaching for my phone, I yawn. I have a message from Sammy.

Dean and I decided you needed a little rest. I’m going to North Carolina with Bobby. Take care little witch.

I smile and stretch. I wasn’t really thrilled that he found a new case again during the last one, my boyfriend needs rest and we need time alone. I love Sam but having to share a room with him when there is only one left, bathing in blood every freaking day and having to hurry in the shower… I can’t do this continuously.

I love quick love making against a wall, I love Dean’s strong hand silencing me, and I love the constant teasing but after days, sometimes weeks, like that in a row, I need more.

Some say we are crazy, but, yes, after being away from my wolf for two hours, I miss him already. I just wish he was there, like every morning, his hair going every direction and his eyes still closed when he starts talking, huskily greeting me. I stretch my arm to his pillow and find the little hole I made biting it too hard. My Dean…

He made me a wolf too and I love it too much.

I take a minute before I get up, because no one will ever yell at me for it anymore ; and in the dark, I remember being up before the Sun to start my day of hard work and being bullied. I remember a lot, but I never regretted anything I did, maybe that makes me a psycho. I don’t really care.

Before I find the courage to move, my phone rings, a bit too loud in this perfect silence. I pick up and smile at the voice.

“Hi Treasure.”

“Hi dad” I sigh, playing with the sheets.

When Castiel found a way to fix my father, the first weeks weren’t easy. I barely recognized him at first, bearded and old, way older than I remembered. He was disturbed and extremely lost, who wouldn’t be… But Sam and Dean have experienced this kind of thing with their own mother, in another way, and they helped a lot.

I took days for him to talk to me, weeks to make him catch up with everything. I was crying a lot, but Dean was there for me. Always. And eventually, my dad started calling me Treasure again, telling me he was proud of me. I cried in his arms… I cried in my dad’s arms for hours. I have killed your other child, I have killed your wife… I’m a murderer…

But he forgave me.

Getting my dad back… It was like someone had given me my childhood back, and all fixed. Like this radiant love I have been feeling has a baby wasn’t just a dream. When my father’s hand touched my back for the first time again, I stopped being afraid of everything, because the first wolf ever that had growled for me was back.

I introduced the man I love to the first man I ever loved, and all fell in place.

My father had to get his life back, to make a new one, just like I was doing. Except I had won everything, and he had lost it all. He hesitated to join the hunting life but Dean talked him out of it. He didn’t know what to do. “All I know, is how to be a father” his sad smile fell on me, when he said that. I needed my father back, but not a daddy. That’s when Castiel had the best idea.

He had to stop drinking and that was awful for him. But there is not much love can’t achieve…

“Are you back from the hunt ?” he asks on the phone, a little worried.

“I am, all went great, no one got hurt” I lie.

“Are you with Dean ?” he asks, like he always does, still a little too impressed by my tall warrior man.

“No” I smile, loving the shyness in his kind voice.

“Okay, well when you are, tell him my car makes a weird noise, he said it won’t come back but it did !”

I turn on the comfy bed that smells like Dean and yawn.

“We will come by this week, he’ll look at it” I state. “How are the boys ?”

“Ethan is doing is homework” my father states. “He is struggling with school but my job at the store will allow me to get him a private teacher to help him when I can’t soon… I just hope Sam was there every day to do it with him” he chuckles. “And Jax don’t have nightmares anymore, I think. He didn’t wake me at all for two weeks, and he’s becoming annoyingly enthusiast about everything.”

“Yeah…” I smile. “They’re sweet kids” I state, still feeling guilty for having killed both their parents, and trying to tell myself they would have been treated so poorly.

“They are” he states. “No, Ethan, take a fruit but no cake, you already had cake !”

I chuckle when I hear the little boy try to negotiate.

“I’ll tell you when we come by, dad. Say hi to the little monsters.”

“Yes, you and the boys are always welcome Treasure” he says before we hangs up.

I smile thinking about that Bobby Dean told me about, he says my dad is the same kind of man, only a little less grumpy.

Then the urge to feel Dean’s kiss becomes too much and I get up. Moving makes me suddenly feel the heat, it has being hot like Hell lately; and maybe if it’s a little too much, it feels good not to be freezing like I have been all my life. I take off my pants –I fell asleep like that, all dressed up-, and the bra that was digging in my skin.

On the bright sides of Sam being states away : going through the bunker half naked. I smile on my way to the bathroom wearing only my panties, secretly hoping to hear Dean come behind me like the hunter he is. But Dean is not there.

After a fresh, almost cold, shower, I walk naked to my boyfriend and I’s room to grab panties and a shirt. Not even looking at my clothes, I take one of Dean’s worn out t-shirt, humming at the smell and at the thin fabric lazily draping on my breasts.

“Dean ?” I call, brushing my wet hair.

But he doesn’t answer. I go to the kitchen and take one of the bottle of water I have left in the fridge, a cold beer, and bite in a piece of pie before putting it back to the fridge. Taking a bag of chips, I start walking again.

I go down the stairs to join the garage, lately, my baby spend his time in there… When I open the door, the heat makes me gasp. It must be 100 to 105 degrees in here. The door is open wide to outside, the AC doesn’t work as well in here as the rest of the bunker for some reason. I here noises and smile.

My Love.

Dean doesn’t hear me come, music and loud metallic sounds covering my steps. He’s beautiful, his black t-shirt sticking to his back, wet hair looking darker than usual.

“You need water” I say and he jumps a little, turning to me with a smile on his sweaty face.

“Hey baby, you’re awake” he grins. “Mh… and not wearing much.”

I chuckle and hand him the bottle of water. When he sees the beer, he pouts but I shake my head.

“Water first.”

His car is beautiful, and the way he cares for every details makes it even more precious. I put my fingers on the shiny black paint carefully, thrilled to finally meet the baby he talked so much about. Dean takes the water and starts to drink, droplets of sweat rolling down his throat has his Adam’s apple goes up and down until the bottle is half empty.

I smile, licking my lips, and finally give him the beer, its label is peeling off with the condensation. He takes it, his green eyes not leaving mine.

“I can feel cool coming out of you” he hums, putting a burning hand on my side.

“Fresh shower” I states. “My dad’s car makes a weird noise.”

“He really should get a new one” he sigh, getting closer. “I’ll have a look.”

Before I can talk more, he grabs my shoulders and wraps his slippery arms around me, crushing me against his soaked chest.

“Dean !” I yelp.

“Mh…” he hums, nuzzling his face on my neck, enjoying the cool of my skin and the cold water in my hair.

I try to push him but it is impossible, he’s strong and won’t let me go.

“Dean…” I sigh in surrender, putting my fresh hands in his hair and kissing is salty temple. “You’re disgusting.”

“Yeah…” he whispers but keeps his face hidden against me.

His hands are tender and loving, caging me like he had missed me too much, just like I did. I’m on my tiptoes, my back arched, my chest against him. He doesn’t let go.

“Are you trying to cook me” I chuckle when his body heat makes my own sweat break through my skin.

“Baby is almost ready” he hums, still clinging to me.

“I can’t wait to hear her roar” I smile against his skin. “It’s way too hot down there. Don’t you want to take a break ?”

“That’s why I opened the door” he murmurs, his lips grazing my skin now. “You smell delicious…”

“Not you” I laugh. “I bought chips, are you hungry ?”

“M-yes…” he mutters nibbling at my neck.

“Baby…” I sigh when I feel his hands going down to grab my butt. “You’re not talking about chips, are you ?”

“No…” he presses my body against his, making me feel the bulge in his pants.

I lick my lips, my body never failing to react quickly for him. Closing my eyes, I enjoy his huge hands massaging my ass.

“Are you still tired ?” he asks, his lips going up my neck, to graze my lips.

I shake my head slightly, parting my lips to taste him, sensually capturing his lower lips, then the upper one, to finally being invited to claim his mouth.

“You taste like pie baby” he hums.

“Do I ?” I smile against his lips.

His hands go up my back, meeting the droplets of my own sweat in my back.

“You bit in the best part again, didn’t you ?” he grunts and I shrug trying to look innocent.

He takes two steps and my body meets his car’s hood. With a sharp movement, he sits me on it and comes closer. I spread my thighs to let him take place between them.

I know how to make him impatient, so I spread my legs wider and arch my back a lot, my head lazily going back. When the hood of his beloved car pushes a little on my clit, I moan.

“I want you bad…” he groans, his fingers digging in my thighs.

“Really Winchester ?” I chuckle with a slightly mocking tone. “Look at you. You already can’t handle the heat, I don’t think you can handle me…”

His hands go higher, massaging the inside of my thighs with his thumb. When they find my pussy, I gasp, my walls already pulsing for attention.

“Oh you think” he gives me an evil grin.

Both his thumbs stroke my folds, making their way to my entrance through my soaked panties. I moan and look down to see his perfect hands work me.

“Fuck baby…” I whine, rolling my hips to get more friction.

One of his thumb go to my clit and press on it firmly.

“Yes…” I let my head fall down a bit and grab his shoulders.

He starts circling it roughly, his index teasing my entrance. He knows exactly how fast it could make me come, especially after a week without any intimacy. Dean knows me perfectly. I start to shake and he sucks at my neck, drinking the moans stuck there.

“Yeah… Oh fuck… Please baby… More” I beg, and he obliges.

His fingers become both rougher and more precise and I feel totally high, my juice coating his hands and his car. Throbbing for him, I can sense a great orgasm built in my core.

When I’m about to come, he takes a step back and I gasp. He stands there, licking his fingers with eyes darker than the night. My whole body is shaking and I’m a panting mess.

“Dean… Please” I whine, closing my legs to desperately get some friction on myself.

“No spread your legs baby” he orders. “I can see you clench around nothing from here…”

His voice is low and I bite my lip to hold back a whimper.

“Take those panties off.”

I sigh and lift one ass cheek after the other to get rid of my soaked underwear, then bend to give it to him, feeling the metal on my folds.

He puts it in his back pocket hand palms himself through his jeans.

“Dean… Come on…” I try.

“That t-shirt too, baby.”

I take it off and throw it on the floor, but he just reaches for his beer, taking a long sip of it.

“Dean !”

“I’m thirsty” he states and squats.

Before I can register anything, his tongue licks a long line through my folds and I grab his hair.

With his large hand, he pushes me back, making me fall flat on his car’s hood, his strong arms grabbing my thigh.

“Yes !” I scream in a shaky breath.

He’s devouring me, his lips sucking on my clit or his tongue pushing at my entrance. I’m lost. An intense pleasure making me dizzy, an orgasm even more powerful building deep inside me… My eyes roll and I can feel my skin being entirely wet, like my arousal was everywhere on me.

“F-Fuck…” I cry out when the coil is about to break, electricity going through my whole body.

But he stops.

This time I can’t take it and, still high and shaking, I reach for my clit to add the only little friction I need to fall off the edge. But Dean grabs my wrists harshly, holding them away from my own body. I try to close my legs but he got up, and his waist is blocking me.

I could cry. Fighting his hands, I whine loud and whimper, my whole body rolling in waves of frustration.

“You’re… So… Wow, you’re so beautiful” he states with a moan hidden in his voice.

I don’t answer, I only whimper and let out a tearless sob.

“My baby…” he groans, still not touching me. “I love you more than anything.”

Another sob from me. I all can think of is how empty I feel, how much I need him. I’m too hot, but I’m cold too.

“You don’t touch Y/n…” he says before he lets go of my hands and I clench my fists on both sides of my body, resisting the best I can.

Then I hear him drink a sip of his beer again, but I can’t see him. I’m still laying on the hood, legs spread and shaking. I wait what feels like hours, but probably is just a few minutes, getting back from my high slowly, but still fighting the tears at how painfully frustrated I am.

“Dean… I’m begging you…”

“I see that” his voice is surprisingly close and his hands grab me to sit me again.

He’s naked. Totally naked, his hard length between my thighs, his broad shoulders holding me.

“I love you” I whine, kissing his chest, desperately trying to touch all of him.

He rubs his cock though my folds and I jolt at the touch. Everything is so intense it’s on the verge of pain.

“Go on baby” he pants. “Take what you need.”

I grab his length without a hint of hesitation and guide it to my entrance, sinking the tip in. I pant and shake watching it disappear inside me, my walls pulsating to welcome him. Then I grab his ass and tug at him with all my strength, to make him sink deeper.

“Dean…” I moan, my eyes glued on his cock. “More…”

He grabs my face and claims my mouth, letting me trying to push myself on him.

And in the middle of the kiss, he finally thrusts roughly.

“AH !” I cry out, clinging to his neck, the pain turning to the most overwhelming pleasure I ever felt. “D-DEAN…”

But when he starts pounding fast inside me my voice gets stuck in my throat.

I never let go of his neck, holding on for dear life as his hips beat me hard, and his hands grab my ass. He’s so deep I feel him everywhere, and he hits my sweet spot with every hard thrust. I’m high, so much that I have no idea if I am coming right now or not yet, all I know is nothing ever felt that good.

And suddenly, I am hit by the most powerful orgasm. My whole body convulses and I try to push him, like I couldn’t take it, but he keeps fucking me with animalistic growls. My wolf is killing me and he has to fight my body to do it. My walls clench so bad I’m sure it’s hurting him. I have tears in my eyes and I can’t breathe.

In a last very sharp thrust, he comes, bruising hands holding me against him, teeth sinking in my shoulders with too much strength. I can feel the twitches of his cock and the ropes of cum filling me so good. He’s grunting and calling my name over and over… It’s the most beautiful sounds of all.

It takes me a long time to come down, soaked, trembling and sore.

“I missed you” Dean sighs in my neck, still buried deep inside of me.

“I was only taking a nap” I answer lazily, enjoying the sweetness of my wolf after he came, like he was fragile all of a sudden, like only me could protect him.

I stroke his hair and kiss his temple with all the love I have.

He withdraws carefully and I clench my jaw at the loss but smile looking down : Three drops of white cum are shining on the black hood. It’s perfect.

“I really like your car” I sigh against his wet freckled skin.

“I never thought crushing it would be a good thing…” he nuzzles in my neck again. “I can’t believe you’re the one who found me” I press my naked chest against his and feel his heart beating. “I didn’t even know I needed to be rescued.”

__________________________________

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outroshooky · 5 years ago

Text

my pretty sleeper | ksj

⇢ genre: series; part two (ghost!au; person b crying and screaming that they’re sorry, believing they caused person a’s death. person a’s ghost at their side, helplessly trying to comfort and hold someone they can no longer touch, or speak to, anymore.) (angst, fluff)

⇢ pairing: kim seokjin x reader

⇢ word count: 5.8k

⇢ warnings: major character death (reader insert); blood mention. there are darker themes here, please read with caution.

⇢ a/n: thank you for all of the positive feedback on part one!! this is a bit angstier than what i usually write but nonetheless, i’m proud of it. i hope you enjoy this winter-y fic; thank you to oh ms. believer for inspiring me all these years later (in the bleak bahamian summer, no less).

part two of the verses and vibes series. part three will be uploaded on wednesday, january 29, 2020.

“the woods are lovely, dark and deep, but i have promises to keep, and miles to go before i sleep, and miles to go before i sleep.”

⤷ stopping by woods on a snowy evening; robert frost

Never in your life had you seen a more beautiful snowstorm.

Soft flakes drifted through boughs hanging like some great Gothic arches above you, a chapel of nature’s own wonderful creation. They swept past birds fluffed to fend against the bitter cold, settled around you in drifts like a miniature mountain landscape. Ahead you, the path stretched in peaceful calm, the white blanket an insulation for the sounds that leapt and tumbled with the puffs of wind exhaled from some indeterminable heaven. Somewhere to your left, a finch trilled a cheery tune, and the boysenberry vines rasped in scratchy reply.

It was the picture-perfect scene to accompany what would, under all usual circumstances, be a nicely brisk walk in the chill of winter.

Unfortunately, these are not, by any standards, usual circumstances.

The snow falls delicately around your hustling figure, bound against the cold in nothing but the simple dress of a commoner and the jacket of a noble of the highest degree. Your outfit is completely contradicting, but it is not like you have a choice in the matter.

Because as hard as you try to will a speck of snow to settle gently in the crook of your palm, it does nothing but continue its downward descent, rocking to and fro hither and there. It passes through the translucent aura that is your hand, your arm, your entire body.

Perhaps the statement about how never in your life had you seen a more beautiful snowstorm needed to be amended to how never in your afterlife had you seen a more wonderful blizzard.

It is ever surprising to you how, though you are no longer made of tangible matter, the whistle of wind through endlessly tall trees will never cease to send a shiver down your transparent spine. The chill rests on your shoulders, curls around your neck with chilled lips; you know it must be cold, but you can’t for the life of you actually feel it. When you tread on the freshly-covered path, hurrying along in your urgency, the untouched pure white remains… untouched. When you glance behind you at the ringing of bells, no footsteps imprint on the finely frosted earth.

The horse is a dappled stallion, wide-eyed and foaming at the bit, hooves prancing high to escape the tug of the fallen snow. The gentleman sits, hands loose on the reins, comfortable in the saddle. He's handsome, with a jaw cut like glass and deep almond eyes peering out from a woolen scarf tucked beneath the folds of his jacket. As he passes by, wrapped deep in fur to fend off the chill, you step to the side of the path out of pure habit. It would take no effort at all to simply continue on your way, letting horse and rider barrel straight through your unseen figure, but you’ve learned by now that animals have a better sense of the preternatural and decided to spare the horse (and gentleman) undue panic.

The rider’s eyes never waver from the path ahead, confident and illustrious in his goings. He is bold and dashing and incredibly handsome, and you notice, too late, the scrawled insignia etched into the leather of the saddle, as refined yet regal as the very stranger who claims it.

The symbol of the nobility burns a brilliant gold against the black tanned skin, and your throat constricts with the pain of remembrance.

Eyes as warm as the heat of summer sunshine; brow regal, fit for a king; tawny hair artfully sweeping across the breadth of his forehead; lips as plush as fat grapes in the fall; jaw as defined as a blade through wa-

The horse nickers, ridding snow from its hooves in dirt-flecked clumps, sending them straight through the aura of your petticoats.

You sigh, ruffling the folds of your dress, tucking tighter the corners of your jacket out of reflex. There are, you suppose, some benefits to being a ghost, but the complete and utter loneliness does tend to be a drawback.

Indeed, the complete and utter loneliness makes you question whether your mission is even worth it in the first place. Is it worth trying to reconcile things with a lover when they can't even see you, hear you, feel you? You could caress their cheek with the most loving of touches, and yet they would guess it to be nothing but a passing breeze. The curse of eternity is one spent in solitude, a soul left to wander the earth with a purpose unfinished, aptly never to be ended. You watch as the horseman canters on, and something clenches in the space where your heart once nested, like the wrens that call the castle battlements home.

No. No. You cannot allow yourself to think like this. You cannot allow yourself to doubt, to assume that for a moment love is not a powerful enough force to wrest the bounds of time and shatter the fettered chains. Love is a blade more powerful than any forged sword, a fire more passionate than any raging mountain blaze. With love, one can mold a landscape to their liking, shift the sands of what is known into a brand new reality, a dawn previously inconceivable to any and all.

The thought of him fills your mind; the gap in your chest mends. Every step you take is one step closer to him.

With every rise and fall of your boots, your boots seem to land in the tracks of the horse and rider, their figures now only a mere shadow against the backdrop of nature’s finest woodland cathedral.

The more you push on, the more memories seem to unconsciously surface in your mind. When you came to in that field, your mind was as untouched as the fallen snow. However, it took merely a wobbly rise to your feet for you to notice the massive jacket that hugged your frame, permanently welded to your aura whether you wanted it to be or not. Simply put, whatever you wore at the time of your death became your spirit’s regalia, and you often thanked the stars that you hadn’t decided to go riding in the buff that day. Not that you would in the first place.

With that jacket came the flood, as you called it. The waves of memories that lapped at the shores of your consciousness, their chaotic dances spilling foam into the crevices of your mind. They came back to you in one fell swoop, overwhelming in their sights and sensations and feelings, and you wondered how you could have, even if just for a brief moment, forgotten it all.

Eventually, the mouth of the forest opens to a broad, rutted dirt road, which has turned to mud with the advent of the blizzard. At the mouth sits a thatched roof shack, cheery with the ice that dangles precariously from the thickets of straw. Beyond it, fields of grain- sorghum and wheat and barley, their stalks cut low to the base. In a single breath, curling in on itself in the chilled air, your senses are flooded with thought and sound and breath.

“Catch me if you can!” Seokjin’s fingers slap at your shoulder, tagging you plain as day. He is barely thirteen, still gangly and slender with youth, but experienced eyes can see his frame beginning to thicken. There's delight in his eyes, a mirth that sparks double when he sees the fiery temper in your own.

“Seokjin!” You hiss. He's playing a game of chance, egging you on as his father pauses at the edge of the forest to speak with the farmer who came bounding out of the newly-built barn. One of the things you loved about the king was his flexibility, his genuine interest in the lives of his subjects. He was willing to lend an ear to all, and it brought him a certain respect, from the lowest beggar to the highest knight. With that in mind, you dared not cross him. “Not now!”

“Papa’s not looking!” He teases, skipping backwards when you swing outwards with a well-timed smack. “Catch me if you ca-an!”

“Seokjin!” You hiss again with vigor, a concerned glance over your shoulder. “You’re not about to get us both in trouble!”

“You won't get in trouble.” He’s breathless, riled in his own games while his father talks business just beyond the magnolia bushes. “You're with me.”

“Just because you're the prince does not mean that I won't be sent to the gallows for participating in one of your stunts. This is an official business trip and I am thirteen and as so it happens your maid and I kind of need this jo-”

Without hesitation, the young prince saunters closer, leans in, and taps your nose lightly with a single digit. “I said,” Seokjin breathes, voice nearly a whisper. “Catch me if you can.”

In one fluid motion you lunge forward, your index finger landing squarely in the middle of his forehead.

A smile breaks across his visage, radiant and mischievous, the grin of madmen. Or young boys. “Game on.”

You blink and the scene clears. The horses’ reins in your grasp evaporate, leaving you in front of a crumbling stone wall falling apart at the seams.

Peering closer, you realize the house has aged fast, too fast to be natural. The straw has grown thin in some places, the roof sagging inward, spine exhausted. The windows are grimy and cracked with age, and the foundation settles crooked into the soft earth. Beside the chimney, a rabbit twitches, darting into the brush at the inkling of eyes watching from afar. Something isn't right here, you think. Something is different from before.

You turn towards the horizon, the spires of the castle piercing the far-away arch of the sky, and continue on towards him.

He had never cared that you were only his maid.

You had been in his life as long as you could remember, and he had been in yours much the same. Your mother having been attendant to the queen meant that you inherited the duties for her royal child, born in the frigid chill of December a year and two months after you. From a young age you learned how to reorganize his endless closets and dressers, to attend him in a court of nobility, to keep a pitcher of cold water and a bottle of lavender on his bedside table every night. The fair-minded, fair-haired prince had never understood how you were any different to him- you thanked the stars his parents taught him humility from an early age- and as a result, he treated you much the same as he treated any of the other young boys in the court. You had never been “merely a maid” to him- you were a playmate, confidant, best friend, and later- much, much later- a lover. The only lover, in fact, that ever mattered to him.

He had had suitors from when he was as young as ten years old, coming to seek his hand in uniting their great kingdoms. They pranced about him in grand dresses of silk and lace, curtseying and bowing and placating themselves for his eyes. More than once, they’d nearly popped out of his head at how tight their bodices were. And yet, he never took one to be his bride- never even expressed interest in having one as his bride.

You secretly pondered if he was the stuff of legend, Ancient Greek myths that whispered of men coming together in ways that male and female could not. Meanwhile, as the years passed, you grew all the more closer to him, and he all the more closer to you. Often he'd tug a sewing needle out of your hand to insist that you go riding together, pulling you away from mending the jacket he’d torn the last time you went riding with him. He would beg you to visit him in the sparring circle to show you some new masterful combination he’d learned with sword and shield, even taking such liberties to teach you yourself some swordplay techniques. He would even take you down to the market to buy fresh vegetables for your grandmother, or new silks for a coat. It was clear that he cared about you deeply, deeper than he’d ever admit to himself for a long, long time.

Your journey continues on mile after mile; the closer you get to the center of the kingdom, the more broken down it all feels. Granted, it is the dead of winter, but the world seems to have fallen into disrepair along with it, lulled by the hypnosis of the cold into a weary, uneasy slumber. Cattle shuffle stiffly along their paddock fences; dry tufts of grass poke through the chilled mud. Civilians too hustle, wrapped in rags without splendor or hint of grace, trying their hardest to protect against the frosty bite. So much has changed in the brief time you've been gone, and for the first time, worry begins to gnaw at your thoughts with true voracity. It doesn't feel right, none of this does; but you know in the core of your being, that this, somehow, is home.

With every landmark you pass, a new memory washes over you, scent and sight and feeling. You make a left at the second crossroads and continue on at the third, but your mind flashes back to the times you went right and then left to the beekeepers’ fields, or left and then right to the carpenter’s shack. Every memory rekindles a bit of something in you, something that you can name only as humanity, and you swear the chill’s begun to set in a little colder than it was before. You are more alive now than ever, you think.

It is as if in the brief time you slumbered, the world aged a hundred years without you. The miles to the city walls pass quickly, but not without mention. The closer you get, the more decrepit it all feels- richly constructed halls now ground to sawdust, fields of grain and vegetables now plains of snow and ice. The walls themselves are in poor shape, the dull stones lacking the regal glory they once held, and you ache at the sight. Once the pride and joy of the kingdom, now a sad hallmark- if there was anything left of the kingdom to begin with.

A mere trickle of people flows on either side of the gate, a much, much slower stream from the constant push-pull of the tides you’re used to. Here, the roar was once chaos- a wave of crowds jostling in, a tide of jovial citizens pouring out in a flood of color and sound and energy. But the banners flutter threadbare, flapping without statement in the wind, as if they have fallen asleep at the helm, in the bleak of midwinter, in the midst of it all.

You crane your neck to see the guards as you approach, careful to keep your space from the few stragglers limping up the path along with you. In your youth, you knew every castle employee, every knight and guard and maid. Now, you squint till the nearest stern face comes into view, and realize, with a jolt of clarity, you don't recognize him at all.

His face is cold-cut, molded from a block of iron. His lips are pressed tightly together, back as straight as a ramrod, mouth as firm as an oak tree. He is completely unfamiliar to you, and for some reason, trepidation begins to roll a metaphorically thrilling drum beat in your stomach.

The fear, which had numbed to a gentle stream in the back of your conscious (if you could call it that), rose to a fever pitch.

Something was horribly, horribly wrong, and you were absolutely determined to find out what.

You had a feeling that this is what you were brought back for, to get to the bottom of this horrid stunt, to find out why everything you knew had been thrown off its axis in one fell swoop. It thrummed in your silent pulse, lofted like owls’ wings through the quiet of the forest. No was simply not an answer, and when a renewed sense of determination beat in the space where your heart would have been, you touched your chest with a sudden burst of fondness. Seokjin was close, so close. It would be like old times; together, you would solve this, bring closure to this plague of wintertime. And you, his wonderful bride, reunited with him as if no time had ever been wasted in between. Not to mention you were home, back in your city, the place you had labored to visit for days, weeks, even months since you’d awoken in that godforsaken wheat field with a royal riding jacket wrapped around your shoulders.

Unassumingly, the guard turns his head and stares straight at you, gaze blank, numbly focused.

You hold your breath for one moment, two.

He blinks, stark eyes staring right through you, and thumbs the rutted shaft of his spear. You force yourself to tear your gaze away from his own, and, with only a moment’s hesitation, stride unfailing into the heart of the kingdom.

Your walk to the castle, at the very top of the city, is seemingly the longest, most arduous part of your journey by far.

Everywhere you look, in every corner seems to be darkness and despair. Shapeless forms, nameless figures cluster around pathetic fires, which sputter and lick with the will of the wind. Dead leaves tumble down the cobblestones to embed themselves in snowbanks, piled up high, effective barriers against the frost for the unlucky souls with no other place to go. Doors are wrenched shut but rattle every now and then, the muted glow under their edges a telltale indicator of the separation between poor and poorer. You hasten to avoid those clusters around the fires, god forbid a careless sweep of your petticoat extinguishes what little hope they have left. You pause for a moment when you see a mother clutching a child to her chest, wishing not for the first time you could simply reach out and make her problems melt away. If anything, you’d only make her feel worse, the lofty draft of your fingertips an added stress upon her already narrow shoulders.

With every step you take, you can feel the individual consciousnesses trapped here crying out for you, flocking to you, a bright burning candle flame against a backdrop of nighttime. There are so many souls beneath the ground, you wonder if there was some sort of famine. Does Seokjin see any of this? Where has he been? The questions plague you one after the other, much like the howling spirits that crowd the back of your mind, individually vying for your attention. No, you reassure yourself. I know him. Seokjin must have the situation under control, or if not, he's working to get it under control. The kingdom will be saved; happily-ever-after is just out of your reach, soon within. It simply cannot be any other way.

The higher and higher you climb, the more desolate the path becomes. It is clear that the only people who trek up here nowadays are the guards on their shift rotations, but even then, you’ve noticed less and less the closer you get to the castle. We had plenty of guards; I don't understand why the sudden lack, you think to yourself. Sooner or later you will have your answer, though, because you find yourself at the base of the castle, and your mouth drops open in some sickened form of awe.

Ah yes, what's the name of that feeling?

Horror.

Your home has fallen into disrepair, a state of shambles that never would have been allowed in the days of your lifetime.

There are cracks and crevices that fracture the bones of the grand hall, splits and nicks in the wood from years of neglect. There once perched gargoyles and flowers and creations atop the limestone columns, so wonderfully sculpted that they seem to leap from their very material constraints into living, breathing figures. Now, only shattered fragments of the beasts remain, flower petals chipped away to fall hundreds of feet to the stiff dead stalks of grass below. A castle, once inhibited with beauty and life, now lies dormant, sleeping, decaying. A single piece of limestone, the wing of a butterfly, shears off, rebounding off the gutter to tumble to the dirt. From dust it is made, and to dust it shall return, but if you had a heart, you swear you would have felt it break.

Once again, it is the thought of him that keeps you moving, pushing on, except the fear is all-consuming now, a snarling dog snapping at the heels of your fantasy. You can barely think as you approach those great dark oaken doors, palm flat against the decaying planks as you pause, your eyes fluttering shut.

You still, readying yourself for this. This, the thing you have been waiting for, the only thing to keep you going, demanding that day after day you push on. Anticipation of it has pulsed in your veins for days, weeks; the closer you got, the more anxious and excited you became, but it is here now. It is here; there is nothing you can do to stop the hands of fate, for she brought you here to reunite you with him, Seokjin, the prince of your land but the king of your heart.

The toe of your boot eases into the splintering wood, and in one beat, your entire body passes through into the grand entrance hall.

For all of your preparation, however, nothing could possibly steel you for what lay on the other side of those doors.

The grand hall looked like it had been ransacked by an army.

The stone arches above your head no longer bore their weight proudly, but drooped with depression suggesting hopelessness. A flurry of activity buzzed around you, a servant even stepping through you by pure mistake, but it was not the kind of bustling, cheery frenzy you were used to. This was a quiet kind of frenzy much like silent fury, the calm before the storm. Footsteps resonated against the grand ceilings flaked with paint, yet there was no exchange of greetings, no playful step of the servant children. It was an atmosphere so foreign it may as well have been a completely different house, rather than the home you knew so well as your own.

The throne room is many paces away from the entrance hall, but with your internalized map of the castle, it took a few mere passes through walls (and a left, another left, and a right) to land you in the hall of kings, or the waiting room outside of the throne room. There is a layer of dust that sits upon the artifacts, the Staff of Arrn’och, among others, nearly broken in two in its display case. Everywhere you looked, it seemed, was desolation. God forbid what the throne room itself would look like.

With a sudden bang!, the doors at the far end of the room were thrown open, a ragged, hunched figure stumbling through the open gap. Male or female you could not discern, matted strings of hair shielding its twisted visage, but the sobs its lungs produced pierced you to the core. The pair of guards at the opposite end of the room strode forward, collecting the pathetic creature by the underarms and practically dragging it down the muddy rug. Although you could pass through whatever surface you pleased, your instinct urged you through the gap in the closing doors, and you managed to slip past just as they slammed shut behind you.

In front of you lay a dias, fifty feet in diameter, upon which two thrones of the same size sat, both lonely, one bare. While large windows perched over the dias, casting blocks of light across the stone floor, any natural light that managed to filter into the high-ceilinged hall was dulled by grit and grime. Torches flickered low in their sconces, doing their best to compensate, but instead casting shadows across the walls that seemed to flinch at the quickest intake of breath. Indeed, the throne room had suffered much in your absence; it was as if you stepped into a nightmarish equivalent of your past life.

It was too dark to see the face of the king as you approached, his profile framed by shadow as he argued with an attendant.

“-can’t turn down every citizen who wants to make an audience with you and has good reason to do so,” The attendant insisted, his tone desperate. “The people are starving, but they haven't lost hope! They're looking to you, Your Majest-”

“And why would they look to me?” The king snapped, voice gravelly, a thickness there that you’d never heard before. “What good have I been to them? Haven't they seen enough of me yet? Every day, a miserable existence, and they seek to know my counsel on matters such as one calf between them?”

“One calf, my king, would provide food for their children for three days,” the attendant murmured gently. “Your people need you now, more than ever.”

But the king seemed not to hear, dismissing the attendant with a flick of his hand. “I can't hear any more.”

The attendant hesitated just a fraction, but bowed respectfully. “As you wish.”

It was at this moment you realized there were only two thrones, not the three you had been expecting. Although the queen had passed many years before, they had always kept a throne in its place for her, in her honor. You wondered now at this- where was Seokjin’s throne?

The king, bowed over with the bridge of his nose pinched between two fingers, paid you no mind as you approached, dipping a respectful curtsy out of habit. He’d certainly gone grayer in these last few months, his shoulders having lost their proud touch, and he looked as if he was a completely different man, aging a hundred years in the mere two hundred hours it had taken you to get back to the place you so lovingly called home.

In your living days, you would not have dared step up the dias to look at the king eye-to-eye, god forbid he strike you down himself. But you were not alive, and these were desperate times, and desperate times called for desperate measures.

And so, with one fluid motion, you stepped atop the dias, skirt swirling around your ankles as you paused, waiting for something, but you did not know what.

The king lifted his head, and as your eyes met his, aged with the aches and pains of ruling, you felt as if someone had ripped the very carpet out from underneath your feet and cast you back to the underworld below.

Because these were not the clear eyes of the king, sparkling and gentle in their mirth. These were not the bright pupils that brought forth memories of afternoons spent on the lake, or crystal clear waterfalls that tumbled through mysterious glades.

No, these eyes were dark, once as rich as chocolate, but now as muddied as silt. Cataracts strung silky webs across the clag, weaving intricate patterns in the depths of emotion, rendering not only the viewer incapable of reading emotion, but the seer incapable of, well- doing just that. While crows’ feet stamped their corners and fine lines etched their lids, you would know those eyes even if you had seen them once in ten thousand years, for they stamped themselves onto your soul all that time ago, never to be undone by any mortal power.

“Seokjin?” You gasp, and at once, all of time seems to stand still.

For it is indeed Kim Seokjin who sits on the king’s throne, his beautiful features softened with age and the passage of time but still regal, ever unforgettable. He is enthrallingly handsome, but your heart aches evermore, because you have missed it all.

You have missed seeing the aches and pains of early, and then middle age set in. You have missed watching his child, the prince or princess (and surely more than one), stumble across the floor of the nursery for the first time. You have missed him sleeping in the early morning, worrying in the late evening; you have missed him in bed and in combat and all things in between. For it has been years, perhaps decades since your death, and in one horrifying moment, it clicks into perspective.

And then he tilts his head up at you and whispers your name, and it is as if every weight on your metaphysical shoulders has been lifted. “Is it really you?”

“Yes,” you warble; somehow tears streak your cheeks, pale in their sheen. “Yes, Seokjin, I'm so sorry; I'm here now, it's me-” you grab for his hand, but it passes right through, and he recoils at the draft. “I'm so fucking sorry.”

Flashes. A golden field, merry horses, a beautiful spring day. “Take my jacket, my darling. It will keep you warm.”

Hooves pounding, heart racing. The royal horses are afraid of practically nothing, their one fear far from your mind, unworthy of mention. Together you dash through the meadows, up and over hills and valleys. What you would give to run free with him forever.

“She's here,” Seokjin’s voice nearly breaks as he half-rises from his chair, extending an arm to brush his thumb along your cheek. “After so long waiting for my queen, she's finally here.”

“You can see me?” You beg for clarity, but alas, he does not reply.

You pause atop a hill crested with wildflowers, white and pink rivers that cascade down the landscape, tumbling, flowing unbridled and uninhibited. Seokjin is a mere few paces behind you, slowing to appreciate the beauty ahead of you.

“My lord?” The attendant steps forward

“Can you not see her?” Seokjin turns, gesturing to you. “She's right here. She's come back to me after so long,” and there's so much fondness, so much promise in his voice that you know, just know that things will be okay. You will right every wrong, fight every demon- “I have missed her dearly.”

“I've missed you too,” you choke. “With every bone in my body I have missed you; I have been walking for days, Seokjin, I'm so sorry-”

It is then that your horse nickers and tenses, rearing without warning and whinnying like the devil himself. He panics, lashing and whirling about, and you can only hold on for so long before you are thrown from his back like a rock from a slingshot.

Seokjin is screaming. You have never heard him scream like that before, a sound that seems to so purely channel fear and terror and anguish, all in one. He is a roaring fury, knife drawn from his belt, and he beheads the snake lying hidden in one fluid motion before dropping to his knees at your side. His shoulders shake as he weeps, cradling your body to his as your eyes roll back in your head and you cough, frame shuddering, barely conscious.

“Sire, there is nobody there,” The attendant says, as softly, carefully as he can.

“Don't leave me,” he’s sobbing, over and over. “This is all my fucking fault, I'm so sorry, so so sorry-”

“My love,” you whisper, fingers brushing the inside of his palm. It is all the strength you can muster. “I will have gone a thousand years, but to still find your eyes imprinted on the breath of my soul.”

He’s whimpering, blubbering, desperate, screaming for help. Screaming and screaming, but there is no one to stop the ceaseless flow of blood, and your final act of life is to stain the sleeves of his riding jacket crimson where it lies comfortable across the breadth of your shoulders.

“I have never forgotten you,” he exhales. “It has been sixty years and not one day have I gone without envisioning your face in my hands, beautiful.”

“I’ll fix this,” you promise, but it's starting to fall into place now, why everything around you is falling apart. “I'll help fix the kingdom if you would just tell me what's wrong, Seokjin. Please, I want to help. Tell me what I can do.”

“I have loved you perhaps too much,” his voice cracks, wobbles with ache. “I've neglected these people, our people. I say our people because you have always been my queen; I have never taken another; there is no one who is worthy of replacing you.”

“Perhaps you should retire for the night, my king. You've had a long and tiresome day,” The attendant tries to coax Seokjin, but he pays the servant no mind.

“You're here in this moment for a reason, my sweet. You're here and we will fix this, I promise you,” Seokjin is nearly begging, the urgency in his voice bleeding scarlet. He rushes forward towards you. “We will fix this together-”

“Seokjin, my love-” You rush towards him with the same intensity, but your hand passes through his chest, and suddenly you are staring up at him, and his eyes are blank, unseeing.

The attendant clears his throat. “Your Majesty, there is no one there, sir. It is merely a draft.”

“I want to help you,” you plead, fingers tracing his sternum, his ribs, his heart. “I'm here, Seokjin. I'm here, right in front of you; I'm here. Believe in me. Believe in us; believe in love as I have believed in love. Please.”

The once-legendary prince, now dishonorable king looks out over a barren, desolate throne room as a zephyr of cold brushes icy digits down his shoulder, along his chest. “Ah,” he utters, sounding exhausted all at once. “I believe you're right.” A small chuckle parses his lips. “What am I saying? Perhaps I shall retire for the night, yes.” He pauses. “Goodnight, Yoongi.”

“Goodnight, my lord.”

“Yoongi?”

“Yes, my king?”

“Start keeping the fire burning in the hearth. It's too drafty in this hall in the evenings.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Sleep well.”

“You as well, my faithful servant.”

#bts #bts angst #bts fluff #kpop angst #kpop fluff #seokjin angst #seokjin fluff #kpop fanfiction #bts au #verses and vibes #outroshooky

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bubbletimestories · 4 years ago

Text

Quarantine Beck (Quentin/reader)

Summary: The story of how Quentin Beck is so bored during confinement that he decides to find a damsel in distress for Mysterio. Except he falls on your profile and you start to trot him in the head. Between the heat, the confinement and the fact that he can send drones to observe whoever he wants, Quentin could well lose his mind.

Warnings: stupid Beck, he’s an asshole, as usual. Broken mug.

Themes: love, obsession, being bored, quarantine

A/N. This is not an ad for Smule (the application used at the end) but it is true that it relaxes. I especially wanted to stage a slightly stupid Beck and the fact that he sings ^^ Fic written quickly, without proofreading, for fun.

Translated with Google traduction, sorry ^^’

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24540031 (eng)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24539569 (fr)

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

Everything was ready for the big appearance of Mysterio, for the Elemental’s very first attack which would bring a whole new hero into the spotlight. Everything, absolutely everything was ready. And then the Covid struck.

At first, no one really cared, they weren't planning to launch any of their virtual creatures in China. A little Asian virus was not going to steal them the limelight in the newspapers, not against an earth giant or a walking tornado. But the little Asian virus did not stop there and we all know that in the space of a few months, the whole world was frozen behind thick windows. When the confinement was announced, more than one citizen felt a ball of anxiety crushing their throat, but it was nothing compared to the dull terror experienced by all the members of the "Mysterio" team. Being locked up is one thing, but when the greatest danger is cloistered between four walls with you, the global pandemic seems very slight.

The confinement was declared several weeks ago, the spirits are still heating up but many have already resigned themselves to having to wait quietly for the sun to shine on them again. Speaking in a low voice in a corner of the warehouse that has served as their home for far too long, Janice laments, carefully dusting the costume of the hero who does not yet exist.

"There is at least one good thing ... the helmet fits perfectly with the rules of hygiene. "

Victoria chuckles behind her back, recovering almost immediately with a concerned look upstairs, where their leader has taken up residence. Amid the debris of drones and other shattered objects, he turns in circles like a tiger in a cage, his slender figure cutting against the smoked glass window. Impossible to launch their great illusion now, it would be ridiculous to see a monster devastating a deserted city. No drama, no tension, it would have as much effect as a wet firecracker. So they have to wait, wait again, praying a little louder every day so that the operation chief does not commit murder. When he grabbed the hammer lying there yesterday, everyone held their breath as they imagined their last hour arriving.

" Hello everybody ! "

A cheerful voice startles the two women as Quentin descends the shaky staircase to mingle with the crowd, his face radiant and freshly shaven. He greeted everyone, patting one on the shoulder, saying funny word to an other, his irresistible charming smile on his lips. He’s sorry for yesterday, he got a little carried away, nothing serious. After all, there are worse things than being stuck here with friends. It gives them time to discuss, to refine certain details, to perfect what they have prepared with such care. Maybe they could think about how to add a little emotion to their script, although the tearful story of the bereaved soldier is already a great teardrop. Finally, he comes up to the costumer, slipping a hand behind her back, leaning over to watch her work.

- I am always impressed by the detail of this cape, all these hours of work… - It's ... it's because it's for you, Quentin.

The young man smiles and darts his blue eyes on Janice, just long enough to see her lose all means. It is easy for Beck to lead his world, a simple look is enough for him, a smile or a well-placed word opens all the doors. He decides to prepare a coffee before returning to see the seamstress, taking the opportunity to exchange a few words with Guterman on the story they have invented, the alliance on his finger... After having recovered the drone control bracelet to be able to check certain settings by speaking (he likes to be able to play with them), Quentin returns to his armor which he examines with a critical eye. Suddenly, his face darkens as he points to a small scratch on the shiny surface.

" What is that ? "

There is silence all around them although the tone of the young man has remained calm and playful. Janice suddenly feels in balance on the razor's edge and explains like a mother would talk to her son, if the latter was armed with a butcher's knife.

"Well ... it's a trace of past battles. The story of the Quentin Beck fighter will be more credible if the public sees traces of wear on the armor. "

He was the one who made this remark, insisting strongly that small details are the glue of good lies and that it should be as true as possible. The team leader nods slowly when he hears this common sense answer.

"More credible for the public ... it is for the public to believe in it ..."

With a great movement, he smashes the happily empty cup on the edge of the desk. He doesn't even pay attention to the handle that remains in his hand while the rest of the ceramic lies in a thousand pieces around him. His immense eyes give off a burning anger, unless it is madness dancing in flames in his angelic pupils.

"The audience will see what I want them to see. They'll believe what I want them to believe. Everything must be absolutely perfect, I mean PERFECT, for the arrival of Mysterio and perfection does not admit a scratch on the armor! "

He laughs as he steps aside, his fingers absently gliding across the control screen to make the drones fly, these obedient extensions of himself. Unlike others whose metal tentacles are the real masters, he can fully rely on the robots that roar around the warehouse, their weapons out and ready to fire. Quentin walks slowly, scratching his thin beard, deeply saddened by the fact that he has to live with people who fail to meet his ideal.

"I invest myself body and soul, we are all investing body and soul in this adventure, to make all these years of work something more important than stupid therapy for an alcoholic billionaire. All this hard work shouldn't go up in smoke because of a little mistake. "

No one dares to answer for fear of being shot in the head. Beck seems to regain his calm as he gently places the broken handle on the costumer's desk. The latter, tense of apprehension, feels uneasy when she feels a hand go up along her back to her shoulder, pressing gently as for a massage. The contact, as unexpected as it is sensual, is accompanied by a warm breath that disturbs the strands near her ear.

"Janice, Janice, Janice, you are a pearl ... Forgive me for this moodiness, I'm sure you can rectify that without problem. "

The woman nods vigorously and the drones all disarm together to return to land in their corner, their leader smiling, whispering before standing up.

"I knew I could count on you, honey. "

He can count on everyone here, they are a very close-knit team. Why these burial faces? It's a good day. Quentin regains his good humor, as do his comrades, as if the mug incident no longer existed. Well, since they're stuck here, why not put a little spice in the frame of their future hero? The young man has been thinking about it for a few days, but finding a damsel in distress would be a way for Mysterio to gain points. Who doesn't love rescue stories with a hint of romance? It's decided, he will take advantage of this confinement to choose the ideal candidate as others would peel the dating sites.

“We will find the ideal pigeon for our history. "

That's it, he is again totally focused and excited by their project, which reassures more than one person in the group. They are coming together, it will be like a game where everyone will judge the female profiles, even if the last word will obviously go to Beck. The latter settles down quietly, letting Will do the research and project the images using drones (they are very useful for watching a film). Quentin's eyes sparkle as he imagines the perfect prey, the one who will swoon in his arms under the applause of the crowd.

"She has to be pretty but not vulgar, not a bimbo or a brainless doll. Nor should she be too self-confident or intelligent, that would sound elitist. It is out of the question to take a teenager or an old woman, maybe a few years younger than me and obviously without disability, I don't want anyone to think that it is out of charity. Besides, she must be able to run and shout my name. Skin color doesn't matter, I'm not picky. "

Despite this last sentence, William realizes that his boss will not take the first young lady and it is by mopping the sweat on his forehead that he begins his research, going from photo to photo, from a Facebook, LinkedIn profile to another at the whim of "no", "no", "too cliché", "too ugly" from his leader. Hours go by and no woman really finds favor in Quentin's eyes, in his quest for perfection. If only he had a really clear idea of what he wants ...

- Walentyna Chmielewska… - Unpronounceable. - Alina Baez, dermathologist… - No - Y/N, she is currently in… - Ordinary - Christina Liang, professional dancer. - Lesbian, take a better look at her profile.

With an annoyed sigh, Quentin puts an end to this game which no longer amuses him, which in fact no longer amuses anyone. He will look for a young woman on his own, it will be simpler and faster. He therefore goes back to his office, giving free time to his team, eager to take advantage of a little calm. All the glimpses seen mix in his mind with a crisp buzz, hundreds of fake smiles, photoshoped skin and seductive poses. Although a photo trots in his head, very clear compared to the fog of other female figures. He found you ordinary and didn't even take the time to reflect on who you are.

Y/N... You are far from having a beauty of a model and besides, you don't seem to know how to pose or show off, even in selfies. But there's something in your eyes, in your way of smiling as if you were thinking of something secret that catches Quentin's attention. Since there is nothing else to do, he will be busy for an hour or two. Peeling your Facebook page turns out to be excruciatingly fast, you post nothing, your likes being limited to a few trivialities. Empty Instagram account, the only source of information is from your LinkedIn profile. If your photos reveal a blatant lack of narcissism or even self-confidence, your professional career shows that you are far from being stupid. You even have a higher level of education than Beck, which should offend his pride. He has rejected more than one profile for fear of being overshadowed, he likes to be the smartest one in the room. But no, you don't seem aware of your genius or you don't care.

"A girl like you posts more than that ..."

It is sure, you must have a pseudonym to browse other sites. Finding which alias you use takes him longer than he would like to admit, but when he finds out, it's the cave of wonders that opens before his eyes. Starting with your Tumblr account, nourished for years with your obsessions of the moment : fandoms, ships of all kinds. If a man's heart goes through his stomach, yours goes through your passions. With infinite fun, Quentin discovers what makes you vibrate, sometimes laughing with you in front of some funny posts.

Outside the office, the atmosphere gradually returns to normal. The debris from the cup are swept away, the drones carefully stored out of sight. Beck's absence gives the team some respite and they take advantage of it while it lasts. They do not know that a young qualified woman of some sort is currently occupying their chief, making him smile without even having met you. Without saying that you are fascinating, the engineer discovers you day after day, layer after layer, first the intelligent woman then the obsessive fan. Finally, he comes across a nugget, an oil well: AO3.

He should have suspected it, you love to write, it's an uncontrollable impulse that takes you to your body and pushes you to strum furiously on your computer for long hours. When he starts reading your fics, Beck likes to imagine you in front of your screen, shortness of breath and dilated pupils, letting the stream of words flow freely at your fingertips. Even if he is not really interested in these fandoms of which you speak, he swallows one, two, five fics without realizing it, carried away by your style. He imagines you as the reader, chatting with fictional characters, quivering under their caresses in your few writings for adults. Hidden behind your screen, you expose yourself and reveal a sensuality that cannot be totally imaginary, totally fictitious. You have written several since the beginning of confinement, translating your thirst for adventure, your hunger for physical contact, with a touch of humor. But do you only have experience in body and love games? It is not certain and it is all the more exciting: he can make you discover sensations that you hitherto only partially imagined.

Without even knowing it, you creep into the mind of the young man to occupy his thoughts, ghost or fantasy that has nothing to do with the companion he wanted for Mysterio. You are neither magnificent nor the kind to languish against a hero in armor, but Quentin does not think of you for his avatar. He imagines you with him, behind the smoke screen, impressed by his ideas and his virtuosity. Confinement is bad for him and he spends most of his time with you, in thought, until he decides to go further with the discovery. He wants to see you, not only in pictures but moving, living. Without really telling the rest of his team, he sets out to send a drone outside, devoured by curiosity. After all, if he has to make you the love interest of Mysterio, it is normal that he learns as much as possible, he is the perfectionist type.

This is not really voyeurism, he does not intend to spy on you in intimate moments and, anyway, he could only see through the windows. Feeding his obsession, Quentin does not care about the surprised or even disapproving whispers which fill the warehouse a little more every day. Opinions are divided between those who find that their leader goes too far, especially using their precious drones, and others who see this little break as a deliverance. As long as Beck is busy elsewhere, the team is safe from his rage. Even though citizens are cloistered at home for their security, Quentin sees the world scrolling from his small screen as one could walk on Google maps. You're not hard to find, sitting at your desk above your study books. Since the announcement of confinement, your brain has paused and you can’t work, even for an hour. Not knowing you are being watched, you breathe a dramatic sigh while rocking back, arms dangling on each side of your chair.

"I'm so lazy..."

Your unsightly and totally natural posture has something comical, especially for the one who spies on you, drinking from you for days. You look younger than he thought, maybe because of your loose t-shirt that makes you look like a teenager. It’s strange to hear your voice for the first time, as if you suddenly became real. The ambient heat makes your skin shine and you get up by shaking your top to get some air under the fabric, still grumbling. Beck loses nothing of your movements or the detail of your silhouette with full curves that terry shorts absolutely do not hide. He suddenly wants to be really close to you, to feel your thighs streaked with white under his fingers, to hear his first name in your mouth. What is your laughter like? What does your skin taste like? Do you like popcorn in the movies? It’s totally unrealistic, stupid and even perverse to be so interested in you. He really has nothing to do with his days to be so bitten. He hadn't been spying on a woman for years, it was the withdrawn and bizarre teenager who resurfaced. Today, he can have all the women he wants with a snap of his fingers and yet he still finds himself fantasizing about a chance encounter, a way of approaching you.

"Show yourself instead of looking at me from afar, it's scary. "

Immersed in his thoughts, Quentin jumps when he hears you say that, he made sure to hide the drone, you cannot have seen it and even if it was, you cannot react so calmly by knowing you were being spied on. An icy chill runs down his back but you are not looking in the right direction, your eyes lowered towards a ball of hair which comes to rub against your legs. A cat, you were talking to your cat.

« Since you're here, I consider that you send me a sign. No more work, I relax. »

Always ready to see signs of the universe when it comes to not working, you close your book and get a headset and your phone, your thumb fluttering at high speed on the cold surface of your screen in a gesture automatic. Intrigued, Quentin bends down slightly to observe your strange ride, the way you walk back and forth by adjusting the microphone of your headset before clearing your throat. Are you about to call a friend? You dance slightly while staring at your screen, marking a rhythm that only you hear while continuing to stroll under the bewildered gaze of your voyeur. What are you doing ?

In sleep, he sang to me In dreams, he came That voice which calls to me And speaks my name…

You sing ... you sing into your micro while holding your phone, your voice soaring up to the drone as you smile without being able to stop yourself, as if you were on a Broadway scene, simmering with excitement. Hidden in his warehouse, Beck does not believe his senses ... Not only do you sing well but you are simply magnificent, radiant with simple joy, thinking you are alone in the world. Thinking that you’re out of sight and criticism, you have fun without shame and it makes you beautiful. Fascinated, the young man who shakes an entire team of engineers, who is only animated by the burning fire of pride and revenge, has eyes only for you. Without realizing it, he begins to sing too, joining you softly for what is technically a duet. When the song ends and you catch your breath, Quentin lets out a satisfied laugh. He holds his solution to approach you, not as Mysterio but as... himself : he will join you on this application and sing with you.

More cheesy, you die.

#fanfiction #quentin beck/reader #Quarantine Beck #Covid-19 fic

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