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visd3stele · 3 years ago

Text

Remus image - angst & fluff

*mostly angst with a tinsy bit of fluff

*forced marriage trope

summary: you're a Slytherin pure blood dating Remus Lupin, but your family has other plans

TW: none

A/N: any thoughts and opinions are welcomed. I'd love your reviews. Requests are open, too, if any of you are interested in that

masterlist

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

You're staring at the high ceiling, wide awake and way past the middle of the night. In your hands, an envelope is twitching with every move of your fingers, twisting its corners anxiously. You received it at dinner that night, the letter from your family. And wisely waited until the privacy of your room to open it. Around you, pure bloods Slytherins were sound asleep. You made sure not to let any emotion show, on your face or voice. Something everyone in between the walls of the Slytherin residence could most likely do.

You read it once. Then again and again until each word, each letter carved its mark in your brain. Carefully, you folded it back, wrapping it in the thick layer of the envelope. Despite having stopped reading it, the news your family dropped on you kept on repeat in your mind. Over and over and over. Marriage. They found you a perfect, pure blood spouse to marry. No matter that you were still in school. And only sixteen. And already having a boyfriend.

But of course, that last part might be exactly why your blood supremacist family decided to take your love life in their hands at last. For you were dating Remus Lupin, head boy of Griffindor. Involuntarily your lips moved upward at the mere thought of him. The way his soft brown hair feels under your palms when he lays his head in your lap in the afternoon – that is when you convince him to take a break from learning for a change. Your smiled deepened. The way his scarred hands stroke your face right before he leans in to kiss you. You blushed in the dark. The way his eyes sparkle after one of the Marauders notorious pranks. The way he rolls his eyes and leave a snarky comments to any Slytherin who mock your relationship and how it only masks his own fears and self doubts.

Now you were crying. You'll have to break up with him. You'll have to break up with him without bringing the marriage up. You didn't want him to think back on what could have been years after. It's better if he thinks there is no chance anymore to be with you. And you had to do it quick. News spread in the pure blood community and risking lying about your parents intention only to fool yourself a bit longer with stolen happy times was as self destructive as it can get at this point.

You slipped your body on one side. And tossed. The envelope fell off your bed. You didn't bother to pick it up. But someone did. You felt it rather than hear it, someone picking it up and placing it on your nightstand.

" 'Morning," that sweet voice you loved so much whispered. And you snapped your head towards it in shock. Only to find a very uncomfortable Remus Lupin, switching from leg to leg, smiling awkwardly at you.

"It's five in the morning." He stated before you could find your words through the foggy veil of your thoughts. "And the sunrise is about to start..." Remus went on, looking anywhere but at you.

More tears sting your eyes, threatening to slide down your cheeks and getting completely out of your control. Here he was, your perfect boyfriend, sneaking in your bedroom to take you to see the sunrise. For you, this boy defined romance and no amount of scars, secret disappearances on the full moon and mysteries surrounding it could change that. You were more than willing to give him time, let him open up to you when he feels like it. After all, he has great friends to share secrets with and you wouldn't get in between them.

Biting your lips, you closed the distance and hugged him tight. After less than a second of hesitation, Remus put his hands around you as well. You needed it, the proximity, the safety, the warmth and love. When you were sure your voice won't break, you breathed a question to him. "And how are you planning to sneak me out?"

Remus saw right through your attempt. He pulled back a little, enough to brush his fingers over your swollen face. "Have you been crying?" Worry clouded those beautiful brown eyes. You shook your head, snatching yourself from him and desperately wiping your tears. You should do it now. Tell him it's over. Spare him – and yourself – for the pain and torture of stretching it longer. It was time to face it: your relationship was doomed from the start.

But you couldn't. Not yet. Just a little more time, you bargained with yourself. Just that sunrise together. One last date. You promised to no one. So you made yourself swallow and said instead "My family," dismissing any further remarks.

Remus pulled you back into his lean body, long arms the only thing holding you together. He needed no other explanation. Thanks to that friend of his, Sirius, Remus knew exactly what those two words meant coming from a pure blood kid. He pressed a kiss on top of your head, caressing your back in soothing large circles. Voice dipped with concern, he asked "Do you want to talk about it or do you want me to distract you?"

"What about taking me to see that sunrise you mentioned and we'll figure it out from there?"

He nodded, led you to the now slightly opened window and motioned for his broom flying within reach.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

The sun beamed from between rare clouds, spread amongst a royal blue sky. Orange light crowned the ascending golden disc, fading into a soft purple and light pink at its edges. The curtain of morning mist broke the rays in matt bliss, wrapping around your entangled figures.

A wet coldness flew on with the tentative mist, but Remus planned everything ahead, it seemed. He had a wool blanket at ready, different bits and pieces of clothing, threads and patches sewed together.

"Don't tell me you picked up knotting, Moony." You didn't know when it happened, but you had taken on calling him by the silly nickname his friends did.

"No. My mother made it, actually." The scar on his lip pulled up as he patted the spot next to him. He had laid a blanket on the freshly cut grass near the Black Lake and held his mother's gift in a silent invitation.

You snuggled in, circling his waist with your arms and nuzzled your nose in the crook of his neck. "Y/n!" he exclaimed, a shiver running through him at the contact with your cold skin. You sent him a grin that had nothing to do with apologies and you both snickered before turning awe filled eyes to the sunrise.

Remus let his own head lean down on your own, brown hair slightly brushing your forehead. His hand found its way to yours and as your fingers laced together he rubbed his thumb on top of your palm.

Content silence settled in. Only birds dared sing a sharp note once in a while. Your boyfriend knew how to choose a date spot, you were more than happy to give him that. The marvelous sight the sky presented doubled in the lake's still waters. Calmness washed over you. Here and now, with Remus' hand in yours, your head resting on his shoulder, everything pieced into place.

You turned your face, meeting the warn off material of his shirt and placed a kiss there. Lifting your lips upward, you kissed his exposed neck as well. Then his cheek, lingering close to his lips before stopping to murmur "I love you, Remus Lupin! So, so much."

He met your lips with his own and you were thankful he said nothing about the pang in your voice. "And I you, my darling." His glittering eyes, filled with adoration and care, were too much for your heart to bear. It was all you could do to close your eyelids tight and press into his side even more.

"Is something wrong, y/n?" Remus asked, shifting his arm to welcome your new position.

"No. Nothing. Just overwhelmed by everything I feel for you." And in a way, it was true. Not the whole truth, but as you couldn't give him that...

An unsure smiled played on your lips. He brought your face to his again, laying a kiss on your nose. You scrunch it up and made a face at him. He tried to bit back his laugh, but failed as a bundle of it escaped in a soft breath, tingling your flushed cheeks.

Remus kissed you again, this time on the bridge of your nose. Which earned him a giggle and a wide smile. Bringing your hands to his face, you cupped his cheeks and touched your noses together.

"We're missing the sunrise. And you put so much effort in this."

"Hmmm," he mused, leaning in your touch. "The sun does much of the work, to be fair." You burst in laughing at that, shaking your forehead against his.

You two traded more kisses – and then some more, bathed in the dawn light of a new day.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

"Where have you been?" You heard James Potter asked your boyfriend when you bumped in him and the rest of the Marauders in the hall.

Peter waved at you, while Sirius gave you a knowing smirk at which you rolled your eyes. Truth be told, their demand wasn't misplaced. You and Remus didn't show up at breakfast, and run late for the first class.

"Down at the lake, Prongs. I should know better than to ask for notes, right?"

"Not to worry, Moony, you didn't miss much."

You left Remus to his friends, brushing your lips to his as a form of good-bye. You headed to your room. Thoughts swirled in your mind, flying by so fast you barely registered them. You passed Narcissa and Lucius on your way. They have been married since year four, something you found very unsettling. At that time, you belittled Narcissa for not fighting off her families wishes, like her sister and cousin. But now, that you found yourself in her place? You started to understand. To understand that courage is not so easy to haul up from whatever pit it lays dormant in one's being.

So lost in thoughts, you haven't noticed the guy sitting on your bed until he spoke, voice laced with disgust. "You better kick that sorry excuse of a wizard away before we make our engagement public, honey."

You startled. "Who...?"

"Why, your new husband, of course."

"Future husband. And Remus is a fine wizard, greater than you could ever hope to be."

The stranger only rolled his eyes and huffed. "Whatever you say, honey. Just make him gone by noon. I have plans for us before the ceremony."

A ceremony that would take place in a few months, once summer blooms, you realized, dread chilling your blood in your veins. The tight line of your lips followed your betrothed until he left and swiped the door close.

Noon. Break up with Remus by noon. Make it look like it's over because there is no love anymore. Let him think you choose this smug, full of himself, brainless, boorish brute over him. It's the right course of action. So you told yourself. And so you did. Any hope for standing up against your family gone.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Wind howling outside, rain pouring, you thought the weather mocked you. It just happened to turn gloomy and morbid all of a sudden, when you were about to break the heart of the most precious boy in the whole school. And yours too in the progress.

"Remus, can we talk for a second?"

"Sure, what is it?" He turned his whole focus on you, dropping mid conversation with his mates about whatever prank they were up to next.

"Moony!" three offended sighs followed you as you dragged Remus to a more private spot. The way he no more than waved at his friends, giving all up for you, knowing you had a bad day, strung a painful chord in your soul. You did not deserve this boy. Maybe the wedding was a good thing after all.

"Hey, y/n, talk to me," Remus whispered when you came to a halt. His fingers searched for yours, trying to turn you around to face him. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. I'm here for you. We'll fix it."

"No." You said, and cursed your weak voice. You still didn't face him. "No we won't fix this." You spoke again, this time with more surety, allowing a sharp edge to it.

Bless his too kind soul, he didn't balk away. Instead, he took one stop forward, resting his head on your spine and bringing his long arms around you. "Everything's gonna be fine, y/n. I promise."

It took a superhuman effort to break free of his embrace. And you finally swirled to meet his soft brown eyes. Tears rolled down, dripping from your chin, but you didn't let him comfort you. Shacking your head, you took another step back, building distance between you, as if the following words would hurt less that way.

"Everything's not gonna be fine, Remus. Not with us. Not anymore."

For a couple seconds, he stared at you, confusion painting his beautiful features. Then, realization sunk in. And in that moment, you were sure nothing could ever hurt you as badly as his pain struck expression. His parted lips, moving in vain to form words that doesn't exist. His frenzy eyes, looking all over yourself, searching for any sign of a cruel joke. For a trace that you weren't being serious. Eyes that begin to water when he found none.

But he refuse to let the tears flow. Remus led his stare to a dark, far away corner of the empty hall. Heat colored his face, a light shade of pink that not even the cool from the open window couldn't beat down. "So that's why you were distant this morning?" Your boyfriend asked, bitterly even as his voice was small, lost. "That's why you avoided me all day and didn't look me in the eye once, more than a passing moment?"

You knew better than answer. You had nothing to say anyway. "I'm sorry, Remus. I've been meaning to tell you earlier..."

A razor sharp laugh bit your words off. "But you took pity on the poor half-blood."

No, no it wasn't like that, you wanted to say. Those remained only thoughts as you wiped your face and crossed your arms to keep them from reaching out. Reaching out to him, reassure him, hug him. Whatever he believed, you'd roll with it. If he thought you an evil pure blood, then fine! You'll be that.

An image of your mother's face, lips curled in disgust at the last Quidditch match when Slytherin lost again in favor of Gryffindor, served as model for the expression you forced your own face into.

"I didn't want it to be like this. Goodbye, Remus Lupin."

You turned. And left. Just left. You kept your back straight as you walked away from the boy who tickled your heart. Who placed feather light kissed on your cheeks, and nose and forehead for days into your relationship, too shy to initiate something more without your worded agreement. The wizard who helped you with assignments, not thinking anything less of you when you weren't perfect. Who let you fall asleep in his lap at Hogwarts' few parties that you couldn't stand due to your family. This guy who gave you everything you were too afraid to dream of. And you just walked away, as if couldn't be bothered to care.

His fist thrumming once on the hallway's wall filled your ears, a sound forever carved in your brain. The thud that followed, of him sliding down on the floor you guessed, printed an image in your mind you'll pray to forget. Remus' silent sobs, though, almost made you turn around and run towards him.

You didn't so much as cast a glance back, knowing what you'll see and too much of a coward to bear it. His body shaking with crying, knees cradled to up to his chest where his chin digged in, covered by lean arms with palms crossed over his head.

His friends would find him. They'd help him. Remus will move over and forget you. Each sentence was another step. Each step, another crack in your heart. By the time you reached your room, collapsed in your bed and twisted in a similar position to your boyfriend's – ex boyfriend. It made you understand, showed you far too clearly why he'd sit like that. The pure devastation and despair, the attempt to contain a hollowness within, to replace a part where a whole, happy heart used to beat.

You broke Remus Lupin's heart. And yours was just as shattered. And there was no going back from it now.

PART 2

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moonlit-imagines · 4 years ago

Text

The Doctor Is Out

Stephen Strange x reader

warnings:

a/n: wrote this a while ago and its been sitting in my drafts. part 1/2

prompt:

In (2)

Without opening your eyes, you stretched your stiffened body against the silk sheets and rolled over to face your husband.

“Good morning, dear.” You whispered through a yawn, which led into a smile. Stephen was already awake and reading one of the many books he kept at his bedside.

“And good morning to you, too.” He leaned over and gave you a kiss on the temple, letting your eyes flutter open. “Did you sleep well?”

“I’d say so.” You reluctantly sat up on your side of the bed, pushing the covers away. “Any plans for today?”

“Not in particular.” Stephen decided to get out of bed with you and get ready for the day, although he was in a gray jacket and blue jeans in the blink of an eye. “We don’t have very much to eat, I might go run out for lunch.”

“Lunch?” You asked as you pulled on a pair of pants.

“Yes, well, you seem to have gotten a late start on the day.” Your husband explained. “I didn’t want to wake you, you looked so content with your dreams.” You took Stephen’s wrist to take a look at the time.

“It’s half past eleven?” You stared in shock at your husband’s watch. “You just waited for me?” He shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal, but Stephen rarely ever let himself lag behind, it was truly sweet of him to keep you company while you drifted through the peace of your head, thoughts you’d already forgotten. “It seems the odds were in our favor when our paths first crossed, huh?”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it, my dear.” Stephen’s barely shaking hands cupped your face and right before he leaned in for a refreshing kiss to the lips, he whispered, “I’m not as great a man as you make me out to be.”

You hummed into the kiss he gave you and pulled back just a tad. “Oh, you’re right. You’re just the worst.” Sarcasm failed to escape you in moments like these, it was more entertaining than anything else in the eyes of your husband. “Now, I’m starving. Want to go to the deli around the block?”

“That’ll work. We should ask Wong if he’s hungry, too.”

—————

“You don’t have any money?” Stephen asked as the three of you walked through the Sanctum in a fixed line.

“Attachment to the material is detachment from the spiritual.” Wong’s wise words rung in your mind as you tried to figure out what he did before the two of you had moved in with him.

“I’ll tell the guys at the deli.” Stephen snarked. “Maybe they’ll make you a metaphysical ham on rye.”

“It’s fine, we’ll pay for your lunch.” You interjected after hearing enough of that. Somehow, the trip down the stairs was unsuccessful since your steps from only a few seconds ago were nothing but rubble. You fell to the floor as Stephen and Wong took defensive positions.

“Thanos is coming.” An unfamiliar voice spoke as you lay on the cold floor. Were you able to get up on your own? Probably, but that fall would definitely leave a mark. After a moment’s time of your lonely visit with the floor, your partner rushed over to you.

“Y/N? Are you alright?” He crouched beside you and helped you back up, lightly brushing your cheek as he checked for any injuries.

“I think I’m okay.” You nodded. “Hit my head on the way down.” Peering over his shoulder while he checked your head for any bumps, you saw Dr. Bruce Banner crawl from the rubble. “Do I have a concussion or was it a gamma scientist that just crashed into the Sanctum?”

“Hi, I’m Doctor—” He waved just before you cut him off.

“I know who you are, Doctor Banner.” You replied with a smirk. “I’m Dr. L/N-Strange, specializing in neuroscience, but formerly gamma research.” Stephen smiled himself when he heard you say your name and just a little more when you described your profession. Maybe he was just proud to be near someone so accomplished.

“I don’t think you have a concussion.” A kiss on your forehead was the best medicine he could give, but you knew that it also meant he needed to get to work.

“‘Formerly gamma?’ Why’s that?” Bruce asked, somehow ignoring the big picture here. I mean, you were just happy to get some visitors, I suppose. You’d answer anything.

“For a while, they went hand-in-hand for me. You’d be surprised at what could be accomplished when you put them together...” You explained, Stephen patiently listening beside you.

“But?” Bruce pried a little more.

“But then I heard about your little ‘accident,’ decided to take a break just in case. Refocus my research.” You felt your partner’s hand rest on your shoulder and slide down your arm as you watched Dr. Banner’s guilty expression surface. It wasn’t your intention to offend, you were just obliging to his curiosity.

“As much as I love hearing you talk about your career, darling,” Stephen finally stepped in, “I think we need to talk about the threat to our planet?”

“I was wondering when you’d stop me.” You chuckled. “That’s alright, I’ll just go pick up lunch for you three. Dr. Banner, do you like sandwiches?”

“I...yes? I guess so. Turkey and swiss is...I haven’t had that in a while.” He stammered, leaving you to peer over at your husband and have him give you a near-identical look. Sometimes, the two of you just thought that same exact things, no words needed.

“Will you two stop doing that weird thing where you stare at each other in silence? We have work to do!” Wong interrupted and you decided it was about time to head out.

“Love you, Stephen.” You said with an amused shake of your head, giving him a quick peck in the lips.

“Love you, too. Don’t be too long if you can help it, Dr. Banner seems to have a pretty good idea of dangers to come.” He told you as his cloak gave you a quick pat on the arm. You didn’t know whether to say goodbye to his outerwear, as well.

“I’ll see what I can do.” You winked and pat the red cloak back, heading for the door that your bag was hung beside. Now was the time for a walk to clear your mind, no “Thanos” or whatever the hell that was. Just the music to your ears that was Bleeker Street traffic and insufferable pedestrians. You just kept your eyes front and went on walking, you’d walk straight through crowds if you had to.

A few block’s worth of steps and you’d reached the deli that was so dear to your husband, now it was time to wait in line, a pretty long one, nonetheless. Maybe it was time to shoot Stephen a text.

Just made it to the deli ;) Anything I should be worried about out here?

Tony Stark is here. Outlook not so good.

Did you just magic 8-ball me?

“Dude, are you texting right now?” Tony asked in disbelief of the wizard looking down at his phone. It wasn’t very typical of him to check it in times like these, but you had a specific ringtone. Once he hears that ringtone, he replies. No matter what.

“I always answer my s/o.” He cleared his throat and stashed his phone away.

“At least we have something in common.”

—————

The line at the deli took so long that you got caught in the crossfire of an alien attack. Was it unbelievably amazing? Of course. Was it one of the most terrifying days of your life? You bet.

You could no longer get ahold of your husband and you soon knew why when he flew overhead in an attempt of offense. You’re guessing that these people were looking for the Time Stone.

Desperately hoping for one of your wizard “pals” to come and save you, maybe have you fall through a portal and back into Sanctum, you just hid in an alley. This may be one of the lows in your life, but you’d see worse days soon enough.

And the invasion was over just like that. You, like many other New Yorkers, stepped from the crevices of the streets to witness the damage firsthand.

“Uh, Dr. L/N!” That same voice from earlier spoke, causing you to swivel your head and see Bruce waving you down. Since he was the first person you recognized out here, it’d be best for you to head his way. It was a maze of cars, bricks, and broken glass before you’d made it over to him.

“Where’s Stephen? Or Wong? Tony Stark?” You bombarded him as if he weren’t stressed enough, but scientists always wanted answers. He knew that from experience.

“The aliens have your husband.” A line you never thought you’d have to hear. This better be a sick dream. “Wong said he was going back to the ‘Sanctum’ to protect it, and Tony is also with the aliens.”

“At least my husband has backup.” You sighed with a slight hint of relief, but your stomach was still turning just thinking about what they might do to Stephen. If they wanted that Stone, they’d do whatever they could to get it. Stephen was as smart as he was stubborn, it’d take a lot to get him to hand it over.

“Are you going back home?” He asked as he snagged a phone from the rubble.

“I figure you have a plan, I’m coming with you.” You watched him freeze for a moment with a name on the phone highlighted. “Trying to reassemble the Avengers, huh?”

“Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, it’s going to be dangerous.” Way to state the obvious. You didn’t know if you could handle it, but...

“I have to get my husband back, I can’t just wait around.” You wouldn’t back down, but it was a little comforting to have someone backing him up. “Don’t worry, I’ll try to put myself to good use.”

—————

It has been...twenty days since the disappearance of several Earth-based heroes. Among them was Spider-Man, Tony Stark, and your husband. But today was the day you’d know the truth.

Half the population had vanished into thin air. It was hard to tell if anyone had survived the trip to space. You’d been staring out the window all day, just trying to spot the cosmic wonder that was “Captain Marvel.” If anyone could find them, it was her.

Just as you were about to nod off, a bright glare intruded in the sky.

“Guy? Guys! She’s back!” Everyone had been on edge today, so they were ready to dash outside. Your heart was beating out of your chest, this was the moment of truth.

Carol landed a beat-up spaceship onto the open field and out stumbled Tony Stark and what looked to be an alien. You stared at the ship’s door, waiting for one more person. Just one more.

Everyone was staring at you now, waiting for you to realize that your husband wasn’t in there. Once Tony caught sight of you, he pieced together who you were.

“You must be the wizard’s s/o?” He leaned against his fiancée and Captain America, struggling to look you in the eye. “He wanted me to give you a message. Uh...sorry, I’m going blank, rough ride.” He rubbed his forehead as you stood there in tears. “‘This will make sense later.’ Oh, and he loves you.”

“I...” Everyone was still looking at you with pity in their eyes. Yes, they all lost people, but you were still clinging onto hope. All of your optimism had been destroyed in these past few moments, you didn’t even know how you were supposed to take this. “I need a minute. I’m sorry.” You stormed off into the guest bedroom of Avengers HQ, leaving everyone around you worried. You didn’t know them long, but it was easy to bond through a trauma like this.

“Y/N?” Bruce knocked on the door. “Got a minute?”

“Sure.” You reluctantly answered and Bruce let himself in.

“I brought you carrots.” He offered the bowl. “It was all we had in the fridge, sorry.”

“We have to find Thanos.” You grumbled though tears. “I won’t give up until we fix what he did.” Bruce stayed silent out of fear, he knew what could happen to someone in mourning. People can get...crazy.

“We’ll do the best we can. We’re working on it.” Bruce explained as he set the food down on your end table.

“Take me with you. I have to be there this time.” You were in no way qualified to face an intergalactic being capable of that much destruction.

“Y/N, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” He shyly countered you, using this calm tone was an exercise he learned during “anger management,” maybe it could help.

“I wasn’t asking.”

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tarithenurse · 4 years ago

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Spark - 24

Fandom: Enn Enn no Shōbōtai / Fire Force. Pairing: Shinmon Benimaru x fem!reader. Content: Lack of proper terms for clothes (I think). Fluff. Feels. Lots of angst. A/N: Here ya go, darlings! Feel free to ASK (or reblog) for tag – in fact: always reblog. Thanks to those who have already <3

24. From the ashes

… Reader …

Something hard and jagged prevents you from resting. It’s digging into your thigh and what first was pure numbness is growing into an unyielding pain. Finally admitting defeat, you open your eyes to see what’s causing the offending sensation, but it’s forgotten the moment you notice the shimmery light.

At first, it seems to be far away and only the visible simple due to the magnitude. But then you blink. Woah. Funky. In reality, the glow is from a small beetle which seems oddly familiar about a hand from your nose.

And then everything comes roaring back, filling your brain with images that you wish only belonged in nightmares rather than memories. People, children and adults alike, swallowed by flames that twist their skulls and stretch their limbs; the echoing shrieks twisting from pain to despair to hunger. Somewhere in between it all, there’s an intermezzo where fire fills everything, blocking out any other sensation than fear.

A fear that’s still roiling in your guts and clawing its way up your throat until only a fraction of it lands on the beetle that’s waving its antennae towards you. It clicks as if offended (though more likely disgusted) and tries to free the legs one by one to get away.

If it escapes...

Benimaru (and others) have called you stubborn. You’ve learned not to give up because giving up meant allowing yourself to get caught and you weren’t naïve enough to think that the only punishment for that was to see your parents’ faces and sorrow over the little sister you had lost. No. It would’ve meant landing yourself in this exact situation – even if it was nothing but a fearful conspiracy at first.

Now, you know better and realize that the stubbornness has changed.

Now, you twist on the jagged ground, pulling yourself forward by hands and elbows to drag your leg free from a slab of concrete. The dead weight threatens to hold your hostage, squeezing onto your foot with cruel determination. It would be easy to give in to it – to lie down and claim the rest your body is screaming for – but the beetle is moving faster than you are, having spent the time wisely while you fought with gravity, mass, and your own mind.

It can’t be called a scream, the sound that begins deep in your chest and works its way up and out as the strain of muscles constrict around your lungs. You don’t feel the way the nails scrape and break against the sooty floor, just like the muted pop from a strained joint goes ignored save for the tears of relief the moment the ruins let go.

The thud of your palm slamming down doesn’t conceal the satisfying crunch of an exoskeleton being crushed. Shards of concrete dig into your skin and you’ve never welcomed them as much as now.

“Got you, fucker,” you swear, voice hoarse but seething with a new sensation: revenge.

One down. Time to find the rest.

... Joker ...

There’s no reason to talk. Not yet, at least. All the men can do for now is to search through the rubble methodically, each covering a half of the space ahead of them while pretending that the odds aren’t stacked against them. He must have realized. But even the lanky man doesn’t have it in him to give up yet, wishing instead to extend the blind hope for just a bit longer. She’s stronger than we give her credit for, but...

“[Y/N]!” Benimaru’s deep voice fills the darkness, briefly fooling his friend in need to think the search is over. “[Y/N]! [Y/N]!” the captain yells, a crackle of desperation breaking through.

Dust and small debris falls from the ceiling as if startled by the sound. It’s a miracle the place hasn’t caved in already and Joker’s about to shut up the normally quiet man when he hears it. Or...? No...it must’ve been an echo.

But then it’s there again: something more akin to a cough has come from the farthest side of the new cavern.

“-maru?”

As if they had planned it, the men each let lose a roaring blaze, licking against the uneven surface above and cast deep, jagged shadows that dance in the white-hot air. Dust is fanned by the invisible wave, split into streams as obstacles loom in the path only to be caught against nothing a few feet from a mess of a woman.

Arm raised as if holding a shield, [Y/N] is leaning against the remains of a wall. Apparently she’s just clambered over it, but how she has managed is a mystery. She’s barely standing! Swaying dangerously, blood seeping from the nose and countless cuts and scrapes, not even the dirt and bruises can hide the fact that the usual lustre of her skin is gone. The only parts of the woman that seems somewhat alive are her eyes glow with a deep crimson a few seconds longer before that too disappears with a blink.

Not a blink.

Benimaru moves faster than Joker can think, suddenly skidding to a halt right before the supposed damsel in distress, catching her effortlessly as her legs give out and she tumbles towards the ground.

... Benimaru ...

“I’ve got you,” he whispers.

It’s impossible to tell if [Y/N] has heard him, her body limp against the captain’s. There’s no time to worry about decency as Benimaru quickly inspects her for serious injuries – a task that’s all too easy, though, as the once-faded-now-flambéed jumpsuit has been torn to the extend that it barely can hold on to her frame. Finding nothing too obvious (health wise), Benimaru shrugs off the dark-blue kimono shirt to wrap around her.

“We’re gonna get you out of here.”

A slow groan precedes the answer. “Wh- not yet...” [Y/N] can barely keep her eyes open. “Imma k-ki-ick their...asses.”

It’s Joker’s startled laugh that breaks the silence, earning him a confused frown from the dazed woman until he explains. “There’s no one left here.”

“He’s right, [Y/N],” Benimaru agrees, suddenly reconsidering what might have caused all the destruction, “so let’s get you fit for fight before round two.” His entire world consists of this woman as she looks up at him with a tiny smile, asking if they’re going home. “Haï. Home to Konro and the twins. Home to Asakusa.”

“Just give...give me five minutes to rest,” she demands, eliciting a new laugh, “then I’ll be on my feet.”

Not with that leg, you won’t. “Will you let me carry you until you’re okay to walk?” It’s the closest he can get to arguing with her stubbornness right now. “It’d be good to get out of here before the whole thing collapses.”

The chagrin is obvious in her face although it’s softened by fatigue. “Fine.”

With a bit of help from Joker, [Y/N] gets settled for a piggyback ride, her chin resting on her would-have-been rescuer’s shoulder with a content sigh.

“For the record,” she mumbles as the last of her energy has been used, “you don’t have to knock me out this time.”

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refinedbuffoonery · 4 years ago

Text

Broken Like Me (1)

masterlist.

THIS FIC IS NOT INTENDED FOR READERS UNDER THE AGE OF 18. Please see the masterlist for content warnings.

Here it is, the long-awaited dark!MacRiley AU! First, I want to thank my lovely beta readers and my life-saving brainstorming/workshop buddy. You all know who you are. ❤

This fic adheres to canon through 5x05 and then goes off the fucking rails. Backstory and other important tidbits of information revealed in the latter half of season 5 may be used, but timeline-wise anything after 5x05 does not exist in this fic. Also, Jack is dead and is staying dead, so don’t get your hopes up for a happy ending.

I will do my best to update this regularly, but hanging out in and writing such dark headspaces is HARD. I will definitely be taking breaks to write fluffier fic, because a big chunk of this story is all hurt and no comfort.

Without further adieu, let’s get this party started. (It’s not a party. In fact, it’s like...the opposite of a party.)

*****

They say he was a good man.

A good soldier.

A good father.

A good friend.

They say they are sorry for her loss, sorry he was taken from this world too soon.

They say Jack would be proud of the legacy he left behind, would be proud to have gone out in a blaze of glory.

Riley is sick of it.

It’s like she’s a teenager, and Jack is leaving her all over again. Only this time it’s worse. This time there’s no coming back.

The guests at the wake gaze at the folded up American flag on the fireplace mantle with deep respect, but Riley only feels anger every time she glimpses the piece of fabric the government sent back in his place. A flag and a life insurance claim feel like a mockery of the kind of man Jack Dalton was.

Was. Past tense.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

*****

Mac has never been afraid of Riley before.

He’s seen her angry and upset, but the rage-filled woman he stopped from killing Anya Vitez with her bare hands back in Croatia is someone he does not know.

The frightening part is that Riley isn’t a hot-headed person. In work mode, she is cold and calculating, so for her to go after Vitez like that...something inside her snapped.

Three weeks have passed since then, and every time he looks at Riley, Mac remembers holding her back, fingers digging sharply into her waist until she stopped fighting him. He sees the fury radiating off Riley’s body like heat waves off asphalt—sees the way she clings to it, finds purpose in it, letting it consume her so there’s no room for guilt or grief. Mac knows the feeling all too well. And he also knows there will be a very loud thud when she finally comes crashing back down.

But he also knows that the woman is like a loaded gun, safety off and desperate to fire at something.

Which is why he worries when Matty calls them in for an op and Riley isn’t there. She’s at Vitez’s trial, Matty informs them, but that doesn’t make Mac feel any better. Whenever there’s downtime during the mission, and Mac’s mind is free to wander, he can't stop thinking about her. This new Riley is becoming obsessively vengeful, and if someone doesn’t reel her back in soon, she might do something she can’t come back from.

The thought plagues Mac every second there aren’t bullets whizzing toward his head.

After the op, Mac drives to Riley’s apartment. Upon arrival, his ears are assaulted by Riley’s upstairs neighbor blasting Macklemore’s greatest hits. Mac hears the lyrics clear as day, even though both his truck windows and the apartment windows are closed.

Riley really shouldn’t have moved out of Mac’s house, not if this is her best option. He still doesn’t understand why she did.

It doesn’t take long to notice the GTO is missing. Riley should be back from the trial by now, but Mac has a sneaking suspicion where she is.

The drive to Jack’s apartment seems to take forever. The brick building is in an older neighborhood, one of few affordable ones with trees planted along the sidewalks—a luxury in LA. Sure enough, the GTO is parked on the curb, not far from the fire escape that connects to Jack’s living room.

Looking up, Mac spies a familiar body perched on the stairs.

Riley sits on the fire escape, soaking in the last rays of sunlight. Her eyes are closed, head resting against the brick wall. Mac doesn’t say anything as he sits beside her on the narrow metal stairs, their hips and thighs just touching.

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Should he hug her? Hold her hand? Leave her alone? Riley isn’t a super touchy person. Mac decides on the latter, picking at his fingernails while his gaze drifts west to study the sunset.

Several minutes pass before Riley says, “Hey.” Her voice is low and scratchy, like she’s been crying.

“Hey,” Mac repeats. “How long have you been here?”

Riley shifts beside him, sitting up. “I don’t know. A while.”

“This isn’t the first time you’ve come here, is it?”

A sigh. “No, it’s not.” Mac figures as much. Aside from the constant clamor of the city, Jack’s apartment is relatively quiet. It’s not in the greatest neighborhood, but it’s safe enough for Riley to sit alone and think. Or not think. Whatever she feels like doing.

Riley rests her head on Mac’s shoulder, and a wave of protectiveness floods his system. It’s new, this need to watch her back more than the others’. It came on so gradually that Mac doesn’t know when it started or what triggered it, only that he feels it all the time now. Especially after Jack’s…

He avoids examining the feeling too closely.

Without warning, Riley says, “If you hadn’t held me back, I would’ve killed her.”

Knowing exactly who she was talking about, Mac glances down at Riley in surprise. He knows it’s true—thinks so himself—but hearing it come out of her mouth makes his stomach turn. The last, and only, time Riley killed someone...it took her months to piece herself back together afterward. And that death was in self-defense.

This one would’ve been murder. Intentional and vindictive.

Mac isn’t sure Riley could come back from that, at least not as herself. The woman who would emerge from that would be a total stranger inside his best friend’s body. Mac suppresses a shiver. “I know,” he says.

“Thank you for stopping me.” Riley’s voice is quiet. So, so quiet.

“You would’ve done the same for me.” Gingerly, Mac wraps his arm around Riley’s shoulders, ready to let go at the first sign of her discomfort. When she doesn’t react, he relaxes and holds her more surely.

The sky is painted in vibrant oranges and reds, fading into deep blue overhead. Subtle strokes of pink outline the scattered clouds hanging above the horizon. Out of all the sunsets Mac has seen, all over the world, nothing quite compares to the ones here at home. He wishes Jack was here to see it.

Mac spends far too long debating whether to bring it up before asking, “Why did you go to the trial?” Agents, especially secret ones, don’t go to trials, mostly to keep their identities safe. Publicly tying oneself to a case is never a good idea, for more reasons that Mac can begin to name.

“I swore I’d be there every step of the way. I meant it.” Mac tries not to bristle at the snarling, defensive edge to Riley’s tone. “Eventually, she’ll make a mistake, and I will be there when she does. And then I’m going to rip out her entire organization from the roots up.”

Fear wraps its ugly hand around Mac’s heart. Until every single person associated with Tiberius Kovac is behind bars, there will be a target on Riley’s back, and Riley will have put it there herself. Losing one person to Kovac is more than enough; Mac refuses to lose Riley too.

“How can I help you?”

Riley looks up, eyes wide like she’s expecting him to try to talk her out of it, not offer to help. “You don’t have to do that.”

“And miss out on all the fun?” Mac almost smiles as he quotes her. Almost.

She sits up. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’m going to hack Interpol first, to see which of her colleagues might also be dirty. So unless you secretly picked up hacking…”

Mac huffs. “Sorry, I only hack hardware.” He expects some insane, crackhead plan, not something so…reasonable. Maybe Riley isn’t as off-the-rails as he thought.

But only maybe.

A seagull perches on the railing below them, honking and squawking for seemingly no reason at all. Gulls are just like that. It glares at Mac, pinning him to his spot with a beady yellow eye, challenging Mac to shoo it away.

Go find some tourists to harass, Mac wants to snark at it. Leave us alone.

The seagull cocks its head, as if to say, I know something you don’t.

Mac narrows his eyes. I bet you do.

He swears the seagull shrugs before taking off, flying low over the GTO before sailing over rooftops on its way back to the ocean. It passes a billboard advertising a new blockbuster spy thriller, the product of millions of dollars and Hollywood plot recycling. Mac saw the trailer. The movie is about a soldier who joined the CIA in a quest for retribution after his best friend came home in a box. Usually Mac likes watching spy movies—mostly to make fun of them—but this one hits a little too close to home.

It takes a monumental effort to tear his gaze away.

When his eyes finally meet Riley’s, Mac understands the silent ache in them—the ache that’s surely reflected in his own eyes. He and Riley are drowning, but at least they’re drowning together.

Mac frowns. That must be the dimmest “on the bright side” thought he’s ever had.

Riley doesn’t say anything more, so neither does Mac. They sit on the fire escape until long after the sun sets and the temperature drops, and the city's nightlife stretches its limbs as it wakes. Mac shivers, but Riley seems oddly unaffected by the cold. That or she’s too numb to notice.

He threads his still semi-warm fingers through her icy ones, letting their joined hands rest on his knee. It seems like his last tether to the Riley he knows and loves, one who’s slowly slipping away from him and being replaced by a woman who might very well bring the world to its knees as payback for all that it’s done to her.

Mac has no interest in ever meeting that woman. Mostly because he refuses to lose his Riley, but also because Mac knows he won’t be able to resist that other Riley. She will slash his restraint beyond repair, and Mac will follow her to the ends of the earth.

He will find a way to keep them both afloat. He has to.

Or else the Phoenix may very well be hunting him and Riley again, and this time, they’ll deserve it.

*****

Entering her apartment later that night, Riley realizes too late that it isn’t empty. Bozer is still there, and he’s making dinner. Locking the door behind her, she hears a rushed, “Got to go, Matty. She’s home.”

Bozer crashed on her couch the night they got the news and never left. I don't want you to be alone, Bozer keeps saying, despite her insistence she doesn’t need a babysitter. Other than that, they don’t speak to each other much. In fact, Riley wouldn't have noticed he said anything at all if not for the way he stares at her, standing at the stove and twirling a wooden spoon between his fingers.

"What?" she snaps.

Carefully, Bozer asks, "How was the trial?"

"Fine." Riley knows he cares, and that he’s hurting too, but nothing he says or does is going to help her. The sooner he figures that out the better. She drops her keys and jacket on a chair before heading for her bedroom.

“You hungry?” he calls after her.

Riley yanks off her boots, chucking them into the closet with too much force. “No.”

“Have you eaten anything today?”

Her fuse is running short these days, and she’s just about had it with his incessant smothering and questioning. Riley marches into the kitchen, rolling her shoulders back and bracing her hands on the counter. “Last I checked, I still have a mother, so if you’re just going to keep nagging me, then I think it’s time you get the fuck out of my apartment.”

Bozer’s eyes widen and his mouth opens, but no sound comes out.

“Get out,” Riley snarls.

Still struggling to regain his ability to speak, Bozer stammers, “At least let me finish making you dinner first.”

“Fine.” Cracking her knuckles, Riley retreats to her bedroom once more. “I’m taking a shower. You better be gone when I come out.” She doesn’t wait for a response.

When Riley emerges, her dinner is cold, and Bozer is long gone.

She doesn’t eat.

*****

On the second day of Vitez’s trial, Riley sits in the back of the room long after the trial adjourns for the day, thinking. She didn’t recognize the witnesses who testified today, and as the prosecutor called each one forward, Riley wished she had her laptop so she could look them up. Now, as she stares over the rows of empty wooden seats to the section where the jury sat, Riley can only hope that the witnesses’ testimonies are enough.

Riley knows there’s more than enough evidence to convict Vitez—especially since she recorded the confession herself—but obsessing over the trial is easier than facing the reality waiting outside the courthouse doors.

Her mom invited her to visit his grave today, after the trial, but Riley declined. Facing that slab of granite will make it real, make it��permanent.

She knows what it says. Jack Dalton. Beloved. Gone too soon. Someone asked for her approval before it was made. It doesn’t say nearly enough to encapsulate all that he was, but at the time Riley couldn’t think about it—couldn’t look at it—long enough to suggest any changes. She still can’t.

Chewing her lip, Riley anxiously toys with her rings, spinning them and moving them from finger to finger.

At the wake, one of his old Delta buddies joked that the gravestone should read “Yippee-ki-yay, motherfuckers,” but Riley didn’t laugh.

Riley hasn’t laughed since Matty broke the news. It’s like the part of her that knows how to feel joy died in that explosion too.

Instead, she wants to scream at the universe until her voice gives out, cursing it for taking her dad away too soon. Because that’s what he is. Her dad. Riley doesn’t even know when she started calling him that again, but if she has to guess, it was sometime between the first “I’m proud of you, honey” and him kicking her ass at skee-ball for the millionth time.

Tears leak from Riley’s eyes without her consent.

It feels like she failed him, in a way. By not being there. By not keeping him alive.

Now the best she can do is make sure his death means something.

Vitez will go to prison for the rest of her life, that Riley is sure of. But the rest of her organization is still out there, and Riley intends on putting every single member behind bars. No amount of justice will even begin to heal the Jack-shaped wound in her heart, but at least the world will be better for it. Safer.

But she’d rather live in a more dangerous world with him still in it than a safer one without. That way they could save the world together, like they always did.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

Anger rumbles through her body, like a Texas thunderstorm in her veins. It’s the only emotion Riley feels anymore, ever since the sadness gave way to numbness.

A woman in a security uniform pokes her head in the room. “Excuse me, ma’am. I need to lock up for the night.” When Riley doesn’t respond, the woman adds, “Are you okay?”

Are you okay? Riley hates that question more than all the others. How are you? Have you eaten today? What can I do to help?

She feels like she’s dying. She can’t eat. Nothing will help.

But that isn’t what people want to hear. Even Mac asked that last question, yesterday on the fire escape, although Riley didn’t automatically despise the question like she usually did. It’s different coming from him than anyone else; his offer was genuine, not coming from pity or obligation.

She isn’t surprised Mac recognized her need to do something. After all, he had been the same way after his dad was killed.

Coldly, Riley finally says,“I will be.” The woman doesn’t deserve her abrupt answer, but Riley can’t quite bring herself to care. She lets the anger the questions bring up fuel her, lets it hold her together.

The anger is all she has left.

Riley stands, her heels clicking on the floor as she exits the courthouse.

She’s coming for all the monsters who hurt him. She’s coming for the ones who rendered him nothing more than ashes on the wind, the ones who turned her life into a nightmare she can’t wake up from.

Because she doesn’t need to wake up to become theirs.

Want to be tagged in future chapters? Send me an ask.

#beth writes #dark!MacRiley #macriley #macgyver #angus macgyver #riley davis #mac x riley #macgyver fanfiction

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abbysfrenchbraid · 4 years ago

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Kissed by a Wolf - Chapter 9

masterlist

in this chapter, the reader takes up combat training with Eivor and goes on a walk with Valka. I hope you all have some wonderful days with your loved ones!

CW for alcohol consumption, choking/assault imagery, nudity

Inspo pic by @classicnovaproductions

Heather

The next few days were filled with training, tasks, and getting to know people. You got up early every morning and either joined Valka for a few hours of learning about healing and plants, sometimes at her hut, sometimes on walks through the forest, or you helped Sfáva in the kitchen, preparing food for the day or running errands for her. Around noon you ate with your old friends and in the afternoon you had taken up training with Eivor.

Eivor’s wound was healing well, but she was not yet allowed to train heavily so she was all the happier to have you to instruct and guide.

You had been working with a short sword, first wooden, then metal, for a few afternoons now and while it was still extremely hard to swing, you started seeing a smoothness in your movements. When you stepped into the training area with the straw dummies and wooden targets, the sun already hung low on the horizon and tiny snowflakes were fluttering from a singular cloud in the sky. The days were at their shortest now, Winter solstice was only two nights away.

“There you are!” You turned to see Eivor, dressed in thick leather and furs, with two axes in her hands. She looked lovely, her lashes and hair embezzled by ice crystals and her breath moving through the air like clouds in strong wind. She gave you the smaller axe and fastened the other one to her belt.

“I want to introduce you to another weapon today. I have a feeling you’ll be good with the axe.”

You weighed it in your hand. It was wooden with a dark metal blade; thin red leather strips were wrapped and fastened around the bottom for better grip.

“How do I wield it?” You tried a few slow strokes through the air. Eivor stepped behind you, closing her arms around you as she grabbed the axe and your hands with it, encasing your fingers in her soft, warm palms. Her mouth was right next to your ear and when she spoke, her breath tickled your skin.

“You hold it with a firm grip, but make sure your wrists stay loose. Don't stiffen your arms, keep them moving and natural. Engage your core while you swing so the weight of the weapon doesn’t pull your body with it.” She lifted your hands with the axe to your top right and made a slow, perfectly diagonal cut to your bottom left.

“Never swing straight down unless you’re absolutely positive you will hit something. Otherwise, you might hit yourself. You can swing upwards, too.” She guided your hands from left to right with a slightly upward motion. “Never straight, though.”

She let go of you and stepped around you.

“If you need more momentum, you can turn and swing the axe just at chest level, drag it up or down into your target.” She took your hands and twirled you around as if you were dancing, then she grabbed them tightly and executed a quick stroke through the air.

“It is also important that you practice to stop this motion if you miss. You need strong arms and again, an engaged core. Try it.”

She took a few steps back and you assumed your fighting stance and tried a few cuts through the air. Eivor was right, you needed strength to move the axe without flinging your whole body around and you also needed the strength to stop its flight. She was watching you with crossed arms, biting her lip as she closely observed your every move. After a while, she nodded.

“Try it on the straw figure. I’ll show you a combination.” She took the heavy axe from her belt and stood in front of the straw man. Suddenly she became a whirlwind, hacking at the figure three, four times and sending straw flying everywhere. Then she repeated the combination slowly, showing you a diagonal cut from the top left to bottom right, a horizontal blow from the right, a counter-clockwise turn into a full-force blow to the neck from the right, and at last a skull-splitting hit from the top down.

You could only imagine the terror and fright it had to cause in her enemies to see her on the battlefield. She was glorious, turning to you with a glow in her eyes.

“Now you.”

You stood in front of the figure and repeated her example slowly at first, trying to remember the right order and direction. She nodded encouragingly and seemed satisfied with your precision. You dared to work faster and started continuously repeating the combination, over and over again, harder and faster every time until your lungs and shoulders were on fire and sweat was running down your temples. Eivor was cheering for you with her booming voice, yelling at you to go another round and to hit harder, to keep your core tight and your wrists loose.

When you turned to her, out of breath and happy with your new weapon, she looked incredibly proud, smiling at you and stepping forward to grab your shoulders.

“I knew this was the right weapon for you. We shall continue training with others, but I think it wise to focus on the axe from now on. You will be a force to be reckoned with.”

You continued training until the sun was long gone, fighting the straw figures in the light of several torches, learning new moves and more difficult combinations from your drengr, and giving it your all until you had absolutely no strength left in a single fiber of your body. Eivor had made you run laps and fight every figure in the course, climb obstacles, and defend yourself from a figure behind you. In the end, all you could do was lay down on a snowed up ball of straw and try to regain control of your breath.

Even though Eivor’s training was rigorous and she always managed to completely drain you, you felt the happiest after working with her every day, proud of your accomplishments and hard work and delighted at spending this much time with the warrior. She was also in high spirits every time, amazed at your quick learning progress and your willingness to push yourself until the very end.

She let herself fall down on the straw next to you. It had stopped snowing and the last small cloud was slowly making way for a clear sky filled with thousands of stars.

“You did well today.” Eivor’s voice was smooth as silk, and she sounded very content.

“You’re a great teacher. It’s my pleasure,” you replied.”I never thought I’d be one for fighting.”

You thought back to the kitchen on the day you had first met Eivor. William had hit you so hard you had been thrown back into the shelves and almost died later when the wound had festered. What would happen if he tried this now? Would you be able to defend yourself, even without a weapon?

A meow tore you from your thoughts. Birna had come to pick you up for supper. Eivor greeted the cat with great enthusiasm and picked her up, cradling her in her arms.

“Are you hungry, my little princess? We shall find you something to eat.”

The cat answered with a satisfied grunt. You made your way to the longhouse together, all of your stomachs growling with hunger after the long day. Eivor gave you Birna and joined Sigurd at his table while you visited Sfáva at the hearth. She was delighted to see Birna and gave her some leftover ham right away.

“You hungry?” She answered your surprised expression with her almost toothless smile. “I learn English now. Eda.”

The old woman had only spoken Norwegian so far, making it hard for you to communicate. Apparently, Eda had started spending time with her and teaching her a few words of your language. Even though Sfáva spoke with a thick accent, it was wonderful to suddenly understand her. Following an impulse, you stretched out your arms in joy and she immediately hugged you tight, her smell of herbs and wool filling your nose. What a wonderful woman.

“Well, may I have some supper?” you asked, stepping back and smiling at her. She grabbed a bowl right away, filling it with hot stew and sausages.

“You always hungry now. You fight.” She gave you two additional slices of dark rye bread and you had to laugh. She was right. Ever since you had taken up training with Eivor, you ate twice as much as before. A voice next to you joined the conversation.

“Well, the best fighters deserve the best food.” Norvid was standing next to you, grinning widely. “I saw you training the last couple of days. You are making great progress.”

You lowered your head as a gesture of gratitude and thanked him for his kind words. It really did mean a lot to be noticed by the other warriors.

“Did I hear that right? You chose the axe as your primary weapon?”

You were surprised he knew.

“Word travels fast here,” you answered him, “but yes, I think the axe calls to me more than other weapons. We’ll see how much I call to the axe in the days to come.”

As you excused yourself and wished him a nice evening, you felt someone’s eyes on you and as you looked up, you could see Eivor watching your interaction with a sour expression on her face. When she caught your gaze, she turned to Sigurd and continued talking to him.

You made your way to Lewin, Aelfric, and Hal and joined them for your meal. They had also heard about your endeavors on the training grounds and were happy for you. They all knew how much you had had to take back in Williamsburg and how good it felt to become stronger and more confident now.

“Has anyone seen Eda?” Hal asked casually while he wiped his bowl with a last piece of bread.

No one had met her since she had left her cell and you were all desperate to know where she was and how she was doing. Maybe you could ask Randvi later. But you had been right in the assumption that she apparently just wanted some time to settle in and recover.

You left the longhouse early instead of staying to drink and talk. You were sweaty and dirty and in desperate need of a bath. Valka had offered you to use hers whenever you wanted, you just needed to fill it yourself. You knew she was still in the longhouse and you were glad to have some time to yourself, quickly grabbing a fresh tunic and a large cloth from yours and Eivor’s hut.

Valka’s cottage was only dimly lit by a few candles, but you did not light any more. You poured two buckets of water from outside into the kettle over the fire, then you went out a few more times and brought in as much snow as you could carry in your woolen shawl, letting it melt into the hot water. When it was warm enough, you filled it into the wooden bathtub and added some mint, sage, and lemon balm into it to help with your sore muscles.

You left all your clothes on a pile next to Valka’s bed and stepped into the steaming water. Slowly sinking down into the bath, you took deep breaths to adjust to the heat and inhale the wonderful scents rising from the water. The candles were flickering and painting landscapes and figures on the wooden walls, the steam was dancing through the air and your muscles were finally starting to relax.

After a while, you let yourself sink underwater, holding your breath as the water finally encased your head and your soft hair caressed your neck and shoulders. As you emerged, you began to rub off the dirt and sweat from your face and neck. A quiet noise at the entrance caught your attention.

Eivor was standing in the door, frozen and bright red, her hand still on the handle. You could see her heart drop when your eyes met.

“Forgive me Y/N, I didn’t mean to -” She rubbed over her eyes and stared at the floor. “Valka said I could take a bath in here, I didn’t know you…”

Of course. You were absolutely sure Valka had known. The little witch. You had to stifle a laugh.

“It’s alright, Eivor. I’m almost done. This bath is terribly dirty though, you should probably warm up some fresh water for yourself.”

The blushing warrior just nodded and went out again to get water and snow. You noticed you had forgotten the soap on the sideboard. Should you get up and risk standing completely wet and naked in front of Eivor when she came back? It was not like she had not seen you naked before; she had washed and dressed you when you had been sick and feverish. But things were different now. Even though you still had not kissed since that unlucky drunk embrace, the tension between you often thickened the air and stopped your breath.

You still did not feel completely ready to give yourself to Eivor, even though at times you wanted to. Randvi had been nice and respectful toward you since you had spoken to Eda and she had not moved in on Eivor anymore, but Eivor had also been mostly sober ever since.

It had been an idea of yours to wait until the winter solstice when everyone would celebrate and drink to see how Eivor behaved and to decide then if you wanted to let her in. Even though the wait was torture sometimes, it would be worth it in the end and it would show her how serious you were about your conditions for this relationship to work.

The door opened and Eivor came in, filling the cauldron with water and not daring to look in your direction.

“Eivor, could you please hand me the pine soap over there? I need to tame this nest on my head.” The last few days had really taken a toll on your hair, the braids from the ceremony now ruffled and loose while dust, dirt, and sweat stuck to your hair.

The blonde seemed to hesitate for a moment, then she took the dark piece of soap and slowly came over to you. When you saw how nervous she was, you suddenly felt a great calm and confidence come over you. Instead of covering or crouching in the water, you stayed splayed out and relaxed, visible for her under the surface. Red patches formed on Eivor’s neck as she handed you the soap, intent on only looking into your eyes.

“Thank you.” You began lathering it in your hair and on your neck and chest. Eivor had moved to the fireplace, but she suddenly straightened up and half-turned.

“I could… I can help you with your hair. If you want. I know how knotted it can get from training.”

She took the wide-toothed comb Valka had used to detangle your hair the last time and took a step toward you. You smiled at her.

“That would be nice. I’m still not used to maintaining it while wearing it down.”

Eivor knelt down on the floor right behind your head and started running her fingers through your wet hair. Every time her fingertips touched your scalp, it felt like tiny flashes of lightning struck your skull. The warrior began to hum as she slowly combed out every strand of hair, starting from the bottom and working her way up. Finally, she grabbed a small pot, took some of the warm, clean water from the kettle, and poured it over your head to wash out any remains of the soap.

As you began to get up, she held out a hand for you and helped you stand and step out of the tub. Like before, her eyes were fixed to yours as she handed you the large cloth to dry yourself off. You wrapped yourself in it, then you stepped to Valka’s great wooden table and took some of her Cedar oil, massaging it into your sore shoulders and arms. Meanwhile, Eivor dragged the heavy wooden tub to the door and emptied it into the bushes next to the hut before putting it back in its place and starting to fill it anew.

You slipped the tunic over your head and let the sheet fall to the floor before wrapping all your dirty clothes in it. You decided to wash all your things right in the morning, Eivor’s clothes included. As you turned around to her, you were now the one caught off guard. She had already undressed and was stepping into the tub with her back to you.

There were tattoos down her spine and on her shoulder blades, beautiful artwork in dark blue and black. She had loosened her braids and her long, wavy hair was falling down her back and over her shoulders. When she grabbed the sides of the tub and lowered herself into the hot bath, the muscles at her arms and back danced under her skin. My drengr.

“I’ll see you at our hut?” you asked shyly. Eivor gave you a look that made your heart skip a beat.

“Yes, my darling. I will join you there.”

You had already fallen asleep from exhaustion when Eivor came back to your hut. She found you curled up with Birna. The quiet closing of the door woke you up and you kept your eyes closed, listening intently as Eivor threw her clothes on your pile in the corner, took off her shoes and slipped into bed with you.

She smelled fresh, like soap and healing calendula and sage. Valka must have come back and given her infused oils, probably for her healing wound. Eivor scooted close to your back and you lifted your head slightly so she could slide her arm underneath your neck before hugging you tightly to her chest.

“You smell nice,” you mumbled and pushed your hips back against her almost unnoticeably. You could tell she noticed very well though, her breath stopping for a moment before she replied.

“You look beautiful when you sleep.” She pressed a light kiss to the soft patch of skin behind your ear and hugged you tight. Birna was purring quietly. Her family was all here.

After training your axe fighting for the entire next day, ignoring your sore muscles and pushing yourself even harder, you were picked up by Valka at the training grounds for a sunset walk. She had brought bread and dried fruit, as well as two big jugs of steaming hot mead.

You thanked Eivor for another productive day and for her endless patience and confidence in you, then you dried off your face with a small cloth and slipped into your fur coat, gratefully taking a sip of mead.

As you made your way on a path along the shoreline, Birna joined you for your walk. Even though she still did not like the snow, she had grown so fond of you that she rarely let you out of her sight anymore. Valka showed you where to still look for plants and how to dig for roots while you told her about the things you had learned today. She was happy with your progress, content that you were fulfilling her prophecy so closely.

On a small meadow where thick fir trees spared some of the ground from the snow, you actually found small white flowers. Valka explained that it was winter honeysuckle, a beautiful little plant that was most beloved for its fragrance. She rubbed a few petals between her fingers and held them up to your nose. It smelled delightful. She would show you how to distill the essence of honeysuckle tomorrow.

A while later, while the sun was already setting and drenching the world in beautiful orange-golden light, you found little red buds sticking out of the snow. It was heather, a flower usually associated with good fortune. You collected it all in a jute sack and Valka told you that the tiny buds could be used to aid with digestion and bladder issues. It astounded you every day, the way nature gave you everything you needed to heal and to help, to eat and drink, a cure for every illness and aid in every situation. You stuck one of the small heather branches into your shirt so it rested between your breasts, right over your heart. The winter solstice tomorrow would bring you luck and happiness, you could feel it.

This year you would not celebrate Christmas as you had done your whole life, but instead, the solstice would herald Yuletide, twelve days of celebrations. There would be sacrifices and feasts, fights and dances, singing and storytelling. Valka’s eyes were gleaming when she told you of the traditions and her plans for this year’s feast. You could tell this was special to her and you had a feeling that it would be like nothing you had ever experienced.

As you started to make your way back, daylight now dwindling fast and leaving the world gray and dim, you could hear a wolf howling in the distance. You shuddered, terrified of the wild beasts that had sometimes ripped apart your Lord’s sheep and dogs. Valka sensed your fear and took your hand in hers.

“You must not be afraid of the wolves anymore, little dove. You belong to Eivor Wolfsmal and no wolf will ever harm you.”

Her words made you think. Up until now, you had thought the name stemmed from her family or maybe a sweet story from her home, but you had never really considered a strong meaning behind it. Now that you thought of it, that was stupid. Only people who went through extreme pain or overcame great obstacles were given those kinds of titles.

“Where did that name come from?” you asked Valka, “Wolf-kissed?”

The healer squeezed your hand. It was dark and the lights of the village only slowly became visible in the distance, but the moon was bright and lit your path in the white snow.

“You have to ask Eivor that, it is her story to tell. I can say however that it was not a mere kiss by the beast that gave her the title. Did you ever notice the scar on her neck?”

Your stomach twisted. You knew the scar she was speaking of. It was dreadful and large, covering the entire right side of her neck from her hairline to her throat. You had thought it a burn mark or something obtained in a fight. Had it really been the result of a wolf attack? The thought scared you even more. Valka held your hand tightly in hers.

“Ask her, she will tell you what happened. You need not be afraid, I promise.”

As you finally came close to the village again, Valka stopped and turned to you.

“I wanted to tell you how greatly I enjoy spending time with you. People come to me with questions all the time, but they just want to hear answers, they do not want to find the answers themselves or even learn how to ask the questions the right way. You truly listen to me and you have already learned so much. I hope I can teach you everything I know so that one day you may know more than me.”

You wanted to laugh, but she was completely serious. You drew her in for a hug and mumbled your gratitude into her furs.

“Thank you, Valka, for all you do. I am just as eager to learn and grow as you are to teach. You are a wonderful friend.”

“Y/N, is that you? Valka?” A voice in the dark called out to you. A big figure was stomping along the path toward you from the village. It was Eivor, visibly agitated. “What the fuck are you doing?”

You could see her breath in the moonlight as she came closer.

“Uh… We collected plants for Valka and for the Yule festival?” You were not sure what you had done wrong. Eivor came to a halt in front of you and immediately pulled you into her arms, sighing as she pressed you close for a moment, then she held you at arm’s length and shot you both angry looks.

“What were you thinking, alone out here in the dark without anyone to protect you or at least a torch? Have you gone mad? Thor's hammer, I was so worried! Valka, what is your explanation for this?”

Valka seemed not at all impressed with Eivor’s display of rage and worry.

“As Y/N said, we were collecting plants. The moon lit our way, we were close to the village and only walked along the shore. There was no need to worry. We are no longer in Norway, with bears and wolves all around.”

You quickly glanced at her but decided to keep the howl you had heard to yourself. Eivor grunted, then she grabbed you both by the arms and began to stride back to the village, pulling you along with her. You could have sworn you heard Valka giggle, but the drengr between you ignored her.

Back at the village Eivor told you, a little too sternly, to go to her hut and wait for her there. She had set up a basin with hot water for you to clean yourself and the clothes you had washed in the morning and hung in front of the fireplace would be dry by now.

“I need to go to the longhouse and make more preparations for tomorrow. Valka, will you come with me?”

The seeress just nodded, gave you a secretive smile, and went ahead. Eivor stayed behind with you. She sighed and pulled you in for another hug, kissing the top of your head and rubbing your back.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again. I thought you were lost and I would have to call up everyone to go look for you, the day before Yule.”

You wrapped your arms around her waist and looked up at her.

“I apologize,” you mumbled. “I should have told you where we were going and how long we would be gone. I won’t leave you in the dark anymore.”

“Thank you.” Eivor pressed another kiss to your temple. “I’ll see you later.” She left for the longhouse.

Birna rubbed herself against your ankles - you had completely forgotten about her! She had followed you this entire time. You had to laugh as you picked up the cat and held her close; you had not been without protection after all.

Back at your hut you dropped all of your clothes to the floor and splashed some of the warm water in the metal bowl into your cold face, relishing in the wonderful prickly sensation of your skin warming up. You cleaned your body with a small piece of soap and a cloth, then you slipped into a fresh tunic that was still warm from the fire.

As you waited for Eivor, you mended a few holes in your clothes and the quilt that kept you warm in the cold winter nights. Picking up your clothes and folding them so you could stack them in the corner, you noticed the little branch of heather among the heaps of fabric and fur. You spun it between your fingers a few times, contemplating over the things you had learned from Valka today.

The Yule festival would be wonderful and you were hoping to bond with the other clan members even more, maybe even to see Eda again. You noticed that you had forgotten to ask Randvi about her. Hopefully, the matter would resolve itself tomorrow. Even though you were on good terms with Randvi now, you were still not too keen on spending more time with her than was absolutely necessary.

You were half asleep when you heard Eivor at the door and sat up to greet her. She seemed to be in a great mood.

“How are the preparations going?” you asked, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

“Oh, fantastic. We will slaughter an ox tomorrow and roast him over a great fire. We will eat like kings for days!” Eivor beamed at you and jumped into the bed, quickly sliding under the blanket and pressing her cold cheek to your shoulder, making you squeal and try to scramble away, but she only pulled you closer.

After playfully wrestling with her for a moment, you settled down and she tucked a strand of hair behind your hair. An idea suddenly came to your mind.

“Eivor, will you teach me how to fight without weapons?”

“What do you mean, my dove?” She gave you a confused look.

“I mean fighting like when you pulled Norvid off of me the other day. I want to learn to defend myself even if it’s not a life or death situation.”

“Oh, I see.” She sat up. “Right now?”

You had thought she could just put this into her training schedule for you, but you would not say no to a few new skills on the spot.

“Why not?” You got up and stood next to the bed. Eivor stood next to you. Birna seemed to know exactly what was going on and hid under the bed.

“Alright. First, what to do when someone hugs you without your approval. Show me what you would do.” She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around you. Your first instinct was to hug her back, but you remembered just in time that you were supposed to fight her off. You put your hands between you and tried to push against her ribcage, but she did not move an inch. Instead, she pressed you closer and you could not move your hands anymore.

“See, this is your first mistake,” Eivor chuckled. “You gave up your hands. Never let them capture your limbs and if they have, try to free them first. What you could do now is either headbutt me, stomp on my foot, or kick me in the groin if your legs are free to move that way.”

You slowly put your foot on hers and pressed down. She laughed at your careful movement and let go, then she hugged your ribcage again, leaving your arms free.

“Now you could punch me in the ribs or the head, but as you have no training in that regard, I could probably take the hits and lock you in again. It’s better to go straight for the head. Grab it with both hands if you can and twist it away from your body.” You gently placed your hands around her head and turned it away. “If I don’t want you to snap my neck, my body has to move along.” She turned with her head and loosened her hug. You mimicked stomping on her foot and she let go completely, stepping back and grinning at you.

“Perfect!” Eivor took your hand and whirled you around, suddenly grabbing you from behind and pinning your arms to your body.

“Now how about this?” Her breath was hot behind your ear and sent shivers down your spine.

You tried to wiggle free, scratched at her sides with your fingernails, and put all your strength into freeing your arms, but she held you in her iron grip. You resorted to stepping on her toes again, but she only loosened her grip slightly.

“You need to drop your weight first,” she instructed. “Bend your knees and let yourself fall down, then smash my foot with yours.” You followed her command and she gave way enough to take a step forward. “Now kick your foot back and catch my knee.” You did as she told you and she let go before immediately pulling you in again.

“You can also throw your head back and try to break my nose before taking that step forward and kicking my knee.” You tried it out carefully.

“If you need to run away, always go for their knees or groin so they drop and cannot follow,” she reminded you. “Let’s go again.”

With a playful growl, she jumped toward you and you squealed as she grabbed you from behind, then you let yourself fall down, stomped on her foot, and kicked her shin. She gasped in pain and let you go, rubbing the spot where you had hit her.

“Good girl,” she groaned. “Remind me never to surprise you from behind.”

You laughed and began to apologize, but she just grabbed you and threw you on the bed, pinning you beneath her. She sat up between your legs and pinned down your throat, keeping the weight of her hands on your collar bones instead of actually choking you. Her face was smooth and focused.

“Now, what you do if someone is holding you down like so is this: You grab my left shoulder with your left arm, so go across” - you placed your hand on her shoulder, your pinky finger touching her burning hot skin - “then you press my right hand to your chest with your right hand and hold it tight there.”

You grabbed her hand and pressed it to your collarbone, almost sure she could feel your heart beating faster in your chest.

“Now you raise your right leg all the way up under my left armpit and wrap it across my back.” She waited until you had hooked your leg around her body, now completely entangled with the large woman on top of you.

“Your final move is raising up your left leg, pushing me further to the left with your hand on my shoulder, and lifting the leg over my head.” You suddenly realized that you were only wearing a tunic and linen undergarments, your legs wide open underneath her and your tunic sliding up to your stomach as you lifted your hips to wrap your legs around her shoulder. Your cheeks began to burn hot with blood, but you followed her orders quietly.

“Now you have my shoulder in a tight lock, my head is pushed away from you and you have captured my right arm. If you pull it, it will seriously hurt me.” You immediately let go of her hand and she straightened up and smiled at you. You pulled your tunic down, blushing at the look she gave you.

“Again, faster this time.” She repositioned herself between your legs and pressed her hands to your throat.

You concentrated. Left hand to her left shoulder, right hand holding her right arm down, leg up, left leg over and pull. Eivor tapped your thigh and groaned again, rubbing her shoulder this time and moving her arm in circles a few times to loosen up the strained muscle. She looked quite impressed with you.

Jumping up from the bed, you got in your fighting stance.

“Let’s try again, full strength this time,” you said and you could see Eivor was stifling a grin. She would never risk hurting you.

She got up and paused for a moment, then she moved in so quickly you had no chance to react, hugging you from the side and clamping down your arms. You tried to drop your weight, but she just pushed her hips forward and picked you up, your legs flailing in the air uselessly. She threw you on the bed like a sack of flour, then she straddled you and pinned down your wrists above your head.

You were so stunned that you did not even attempt to wriggle free, staring up at the blonde above you. Her icy blue gaze burned into your face, her mouth was slightly open and her breath fast as her eyes wandered to your lips. Slowly, she lowered her head down toward yours, her gaze still fixed to your lips and her grip tight around your wrists.

For a moment, you breathed in each other’s air. You were one.

At the last second, you realized your advantage. In one swift motion, you rammed your hips upwards so she flew forward over your head and had to let go of your hands to catch herself. You wrapped your legs around her waist and pulled her right arm underneath her and to your right so she fell on her shoulder and rolled to the side, leaving way for you to roll on top of her. Now you were straddling her, her arm still in your hands.

She was completely thunderstruck, her eyes wide as she realized what had happened. Then she started laughing, her deep baritone filling the room. You could feel her chest vibrating beneath you, a sensation that made blood not only rush to your cheeks but also further down.

Quickly, you got off of her and let yourself fall to the mattress next to her. She was still chuckling.

“You got me, my delicate dove. An important thing people often forget is the element of surprise. If you have it on your side, you can defeat the greatest, strongest warrior.”

Eivor turned to you and rested her head on her bicep, dreamy gaze wandering over your face again. She was completely infatuated with you.

“Can I ask you something?” you said quietly.

“Of course, my darling.”

“Why do they call you Wolf-kissed?”

The warrior rolled on her back again and crossed her arms over her head, studying the wooden ceiling like she always did when she was struggling to put the chaos in her head into words. You followed her gaze and waited patiently.

“Sigurd is not my real brother. His father was the head of our clan and my parents were great drengrs, fighting at his side. One day he was giving a feast when we were attacked. I was only a child. It was Kjotve the Cruel. He slaughtered my parents and many of our clan. I only survived because Sigurd fled with me, but we got separated and I ended up injured on a frozen lake.” She laid her arm over her eyes as if trying to see the scene before her.

“When I came to my senses, a wolf was there with me. He was all alone and looked like he was starving. His pack must have cast him out. My axe was just out of reach and he attacked me, biting down into my neck to kill me. My cries alerted two ravens nearby” - she lifted her arm again and gave you a bittersweet smile - “and they distracted the wolf long enough so I could grab my axe and strike it. Sigurd found me soon after and his family adopted and raised me.”

Your heart felt like a little clump of cold, hard clay after listening to her frightful story. What could you say to her? She let out a quiet laugh.

“Don’t worry, you do not have to pity or console me. I have long made my peace with wolves and I have taken vengeance for my parents. Now all that is left of that terrible day is my scar and my voice.”

She hesitated for a moment, then she looked at you again.

“And a tremendous fear of losing those I love.”

#eivor #lady eivor #f!eivor #eivor x reader #lady eivor x reader #f!eivor x reader #eivor wolfsmal #eivor wolfkissed #ac valhalla #assassinscreedvalhalla #assassins creed valhalla #lesbian fanfiction #eivor fanfiction #angst #fluff #comfort

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wallgirl · 3 years ago

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The Little Nereid Part 4

4400 words, part four of a nine part fanfiction (it just keeps changing tbh)

Poseidon x OC

Dynamene, youngest of the 50 Nereids, has lived most of her adolescence as a servant alongside her sisters at Poseidon’s palace. But with her coming-of-age birthday and other developments, what she initially thought was just admiration of her master blossoms into something stronger and more passionate… and painful.

Categories: Romance, angst, unrequited love, coming-of-age, earn-your-happy-ending; no NSFW content

---

It was nearly noon the next day when a gentle rap sounded on Dynamene's bedroom door.

"Dynamene, are you awake?" Actaea's hesitant voice came through the door. "You haven't been out all day. Are you feeling okay?"

Dynamene turned over from where she had wrapped herself up in her blankets. Her eyes felt like sandpaper after all the crying she had done the night before. "Everything's okay, Actaea. I just don't feel so well. I think I'm going to stay in bed today." She didn't have the energy to force herself to sound happier than she felt.

"Okay. The rest of us are going to go seaing this afternoon. If you're feeling better, you should come with. I'll let you rest now."

Dynamene's gloomy expression didn't change. "Okay. Thank you, Actaea."

Actaea's footsteps disappeared away from the other side of the door, and Dynamene buried her face back into her pillow.

After everything that she had heard last night, she couldn't bring herself to leave her room. She couldn't bear the thought of being out in the palace, pretending that everything was fine to her sisters, and chancing the possibility of having to face him. Here in her room, she could indulge in her misery without anyone else having to know. She sighed and sat up reluctantly, untangling herself from her bedding. With slow steps she crossed over to the window and drew the curtain back.

It was another day of fine weather; Hera's prediction had been right. The sun was shining as clearly as ever, and the birds and the ocean were following the normal routine; birds circling the beach for a meal, and the waves ebbing and flowing to the beat of the ocean's heart.

Dynamene pulled the curtain back over and wandered aimlessly to her boudoir, staring at her shadowed reflection. She looked every inch as miserable as she felt, and that just made her more upset.

What right did she have, honestly, to be so upset, especially after eavesdropping on a conversation not meant for her ears? She had done this to herself. She had taken the risk, knowing that whatever words that Poseidon and Hera exchanged could hurt her feelings, and now she was dealing with the repercussions.

As far as Poseidon's views on his connection with the Nereids... It wasn't like they were unexpected either. Dynamene had lived in his palace for a thousand years. Never once had they had a true conversation, or anything more than him giving orders and her acknowledging his demands. He was cold. He was unfeeling. He was a god so far removed from the feelings of other beings, even those of other deities and supernatural beings, that no one else dared to approach him. She was starting to realize that maybe they had the right idea in staying away.

Why had someone as despicable as him been on her mind so much in the first place?

"What are you doing to yourself?" She asked her reflection in disappointment. "You're not a child anymore. You can't just keep sulking in your room, especially when you've brought your misery on yourself. You're going to worry your family." She sighed and returned to her bed, burying herself back under the covers. She would get some more sleep, then she would take a warm bath and face the world again. Everything would be fine. It would just take a little time.

Meanwhile, Actaea had returned to the room where the other sisters were setting up for lunch, and where Ianeira was waiting with a troubled expression.

"Is she alright?" Ianeira asked as Actaea approached.

"To be quite honest, I'm not sure," Actaea sighed. "She sounded completely lifeless when I spoke to her. She said she wasn't feeling well, but we all know that's a lie. She's been acting strange since her birthday."

"More specifically, once we received word that Hera was visiting." Ianeira took a moment to ponder. "Do you think Lady Hera might've said something privately to her last night?"

"What cause would she have had to speak to her? They're barely acquainted. She gave Dynamene her blessing in front of all the rest of us with no problem. And as far as I know, Dyna has done nothing to provoke Lady Hera's ire."

"Maybe it's far-fetched, but... What about Lord Poseidon? You remember how she ran from his rooms; that look in her eyes. Do you think..." Ianeira's words halted, and she gave a sharp inhale of realization. Her eyes snapped up to meet her sister's. "Actaea..."

Actaea gave her a knowing look and leaned closer. "I'll tell you this in confidence," she said lowly. "She was worried about the subjects that Hera might broach with Poseidon when she came. I'll give you one guess as to why."

Ianeira exhaled deeply. "I've been blind."

"Oh, come now. It's only become more noticeable this past decade or so, dearest older sister," Actaea sighed impatiently. "Dynamene isn't a child anymore, after all."

"I know. It's just..." Ianeira pursed her lips. "Perhaps I didn't want to believe it. I guess I wanted to believe that it was just a healthy sense of fear making her act the way she's been."

"That may have been the case in the past, but it seems things are changing rapidly."

"He wouldn't. We know he wouldn't."

"I'm sure Dynamene knows that as well. That doesn't often sway the heart, unfortunately. We'll have to keep an eye on things; all of us."

"I agree," Ianeira nodded somberly. "For Dynamene's sake."

"For Dynamene's sake."

They exchanged a meaningful look once more before joining the rest of their sisters at the table.

It was many hours later that Dynamene finally woke up. Stretching slowly, she looked over at the curtain-covered window. No more sunlight was filtering through; the room was nearly completely dark. It seemed she had managed to sleep the rest of the day away.

She stood on the cold marble floor, giving one last stretch and a rousing shake of her head before crossing to her dresser for clean clothes. Her sisters had almost certainly left and returned from their seaing excursion by now. Dynamene squinted at the clock on her boudoir. It was well past the afternoon now; the last of the sunset was probably fading over the horizon.

Clad in fresh robes, she left her room and quietly made her way through the palace towards the kitchens. She could hear her sisters conversing and enjoying their free time in various rooms as she passed, but she crept by as best she could without notice. She was feeling more like herself now, but she still wasn't ready to be bombarded with the questions her sisters would undoubtedly have.

After fetching an apple from the pantry, she emerged from the palace and made her way down to the beach. A gentle ocean breeze brushed the stray hairs back from her face, and she smiled lightly at the scent of the seawater. No matter her troubles, she would always be able to count on the ocean to wash them away.

She chose a spot next to a group of tide pools to sit, tucking her peplos beneath her and gazing out at the vast, black ocean. She imagined her worries being washed away by each drag of the waves, pulling them from the sand and casting them out into the unknown.

"Dynamene, Dynamene," soft voices came, and she looked down at the tide pools. A few fish that had been trapped within were swimming about in tidy circles. "What troubles you?"

Dynamene smiled sadly. "Nothing, little friends. I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"Never. We're always glad for the company of a Nereid," they answered, their scales shimmering faintly in the moonlight.

Dynamene watched them warmly. All Nereids, as spirits of the sea, had the ability to communicate with sea life. In return, the sea life held them in high regards, considering them protectors and ambassadors of the ocean and all within. "You know," she ventured, drawing her knees up to her chest. "The gods of Olympus are mysterious, even to those who've known them for a millennia. Do you think that, maybe, they're just so far removed from other beings that it's impossible to form a connection with one?"

"The gods of Olympus are proud to a fault," a minnow responded. "They justify their actions with empty motives, chasing pleasure and recognition just as any mortal."

"You see, the gods have the same minds as mortals, but they trick themselves into thinking that their supernatural gifts have made them entirely different beings," a tiny crab added, crawling out of the pool to rest upon her foot. "They are just as infallible as humans, and in many ways much more destructive, especially to themselves."

"Mm," Dynamene hummed thoughtfully. "Thinking back now on all my experiences with the gods... Your words strike me as true, friends." She considered the waves for several moments. "You're right. I guess even with their power... They are just people with faults like anyone else." She lifted her hand, guiding a little stream of water from the ocean to the tide pool. "Thank you for your insights. Here you are; you can return to the ocean now."

The sea life that had been confined to the tide pool took advantage of the stream to return to the sea, their little voices thanking her many times over.

Dynamene sighed and leaned back on her arms, taking a few minutes to absorb the wise words the animals had shared with her. It all made sense; so much so that she began to wonder if, deep down, she hadn't had the same suspicions about the gods all along. Of course, in a position like hers, as a servant to one of the top three, such thoughts could be perilous to acknowledge. Keeping them tucked away to herself was the safe choice.

A strange shift in the air made her start. She quickly righted herself and turned around, feeling a presence approaching.

From the base of the stairs approached a familiar figure, a sight that she found her heart both leaping at and shirking from.

Poseidon was walking towards her, the moonlight casting a white glow on the side of his body not shadowed by the rocky bluffs. The points of his trident caught the moonlight on their sharp edges. His expression was somber.

No; as he came closer and Dynamene could make his face out more clearly, she saw it was one of anger. Him seeking her out at this hour with such an expression quickly made it clear as to why he was here; he must have found her out.

She scrambled to her feet and backed away towards the ocean, the cold water lapping at her feet. "Lord Poseidon," she ventured in a small voice hardly audible over the waves. "I didn't expect to see you out here so late..."

He halted ten feet from her. The breeze from the waves caught the white wrap that flowed from his waist, its waving fabric juxtaposed against the sharp silhouette of his body. His hair was lightly tousled from the wind as well, that stray lock of hair that had always captured her attention blown back from his face.

Now she was seeing him as he was. A beautiful, terrible, apathetic man with no warmth to spare nor kindness to show. His beauty was as empty as his soul, and in that moment, she hated him for it.

Her resentment lit an indignant fire in her veins that gave her a surge of courage. She hated him enough that she did not fear him, and she met his gaze full-on, her back straightening, hands loose at her sides.

"It seems you have overstepped the boundaries that servants under a god should observe," he said. In the shadows, his eyes were dark and cold, reminding Dynamene of an obsidian pendant Thoe had once fawned over.

"Eavesdropping is treason," he stated simply. "A betrayal of the faith a master should be able to have in his servant."

"I have, my lord. I give you no pretenses, nor excuses," Dynamene responded, her gaze falling slightly.

"It is," Dynamene whispered. She looked back up at Poseidon. No matter how she felt about him in the moment, she couldn't ignore the twinge of guilt that she still felt at having broken the trust he'd had in her.

Wait, trust? Faith?

What did he know of such things?

"I will heartily accept any punishment you dole to me, Lord Poseidon," she said softly, eyes still searching his face. "But I wonder if you could shed some light on a lowly sea-nymph like me."

His expression changed slightly at that. He remained silent, though, and Dynamene took it as permission to continue.

"You see, I have to wonder... Did you really have faith in me, in the truest sense of the word?" She whispered, clasping her hands to her chest.

These words seemed to have rather blindsided Poseidon, because he blinked. Something told her that this was not something he'd ever considered. Before this moment, he'd never had to. Then his brow furrowed; not in anger, necessarily, but in concentration. No matter what answer he gave, it would be wrong. He could not say yes; if that were the case, he would not hold meetings with his siblings in privacy. He could not say no; he had let his guard down and allowed the possibility of someone eavesdropping to become a reality.

"Because I've always had faith in you, Lord Poseidon," Dynamene continued, her knuckles white from how hard she was clutching her hands together. She could hardly get the words out. "I have always trusted you, and believed in you. I would blindly follow you to the ends of the Earth and jump off if I thought you wanted it; If I thought you expected it. I am a fallible being, just a sea-nymph. I could never reach the standards that I know you hold your fellow gods to. But I'd like to think that, maybe, in some point over the millennia I have served you..." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Maybe, though I've now broken your trust, you had some faith in me, even as your lowly sea-nymph servant."

She prepared to be smited. One blow of his trident was all it would take to end her life, and she was braced for it. An ineffective servant was one Poseidon had no need of. Her fate was inevitable, and she apologized silently to her sisters. I'm sorry I failed you.

But the moments went by, and still Dynamene's heart continued to beat.

Once a minute had nearly passed, she slowly opened her eyes.

Poseidon was no longer looking at her, but at the ocean. The trident had vanished from his grip. His expression had returned to one of indifference, but there was something turning in his eyes. She knew he was deep in thought, but about what, she had no idea.

"The ocean," he began rather slowly. "It is the driving force of all life. As a Nereid, you know this."

She blinked at him in amazement.

"I am the master of it. No one knows the water, or the life within it, as well as I do. This is the way it has been, and this is the way it will always be." His gaze slowly shifted back to her. "Everything that happens concerning the ocean, from the ebb of the tide to the respiration of the fish... I feel it all." He turned to face her head-on once more. "Come here."

She cautiously stepped forward, captivated by his words despite herself. She had no idea what to expect next.

He continued to look down at her. "You Nereids are part of the ocean. The personification of the water's soul. As such, I can feel your presence as well."

Dynamene's heart skipped a beat. Was this how he knew that she had been listening in on his conversation with Hera?

"Even in this, your humanoid form, seawater flows through your body." He reached out and took her hand, and Dynamene immediately tensed up from the unexpected contact. She could feel that strange electricity coursing through her veins once more. "Every time your heart beats, I can sense it." His fingers lingered on her wrist, and she could feel her pulse pressing against his skin. His hand was large, much bigger than hers, but the fingers were rather long and graceful, and she could feel faint calluses from wielding his trident on his palm.

For the first time since she'd met him, he seemed like a real flesh-and-blood being.

Dynamene stared at him in shock. Then came a jarring and humiliating realization. Every time her heart had pounded in his presence, all the times her heart had skipped a beat from his gaze, and that moment when he had handed her the bracelet and she thought she might faint... He knew them all. Now it made sense, the way he'd stared at her after gifting her her present. He could hear her heart beating fast in excitement.

He could hear her feelings for him.

She was so embarrassed. How could she have been so foolish as to think she could ever hide the way he made her felt? It had to have been written all over her face as well. She felt her face prickling with humiliation, and she looked down at the pebbles washed ashore by the waves. Maybe she really was still a child after all.

Poseidon released her hand and said nothing. They remained standing there, unmoving, as Dynamene slowly forced herself to gather her wits and say something, anything. A sudden question came to mind.

"Then..." She said, swallowing the crack in her voice. "You're a being of the ocean to some extent too, right? If you're so deeply entwined with it... How come I can't... hear your presence? Is it because seawater doesn't run through your veins as well?"

"You can, if you have enough power and practice. As a Nereid, you should be able to." This time, he held out his own hand.

Dynamene stared at it hesitantly before reaching out and gently grasping it. The moonlight turned the backs of their hands, one big, one small, the same pale hue. Poseidon closed his eyes, and she followed suit.

For a moment, she felt nothing. She concentrated, searching for something in the darkness...

Then she found it. A steady beat, just like any other man's, strong and constant. And along with his heartbeat was something more. No... much more. The more she focused, the more she sensed. She could feel the rumbling of the ocean's currents and see all the sea life flickering by. She felt the heat from the thermal vents deep down on the ocean floor, and smelled the algae and seaweed that had washed up on shore. It was as if he was a conductor for all the energy in the ocean, and their physical connection was wiring it through to her.

The man she'd thought was completely empty was teeming with life force, not just that of his own, but of that of every being in the ocean.

Shocked, she opened her eyes. He slowly opened his as well, staring at her. "That is but a fraction of what I can sense. It's only this strong from a certain distance, but that's all that's necessary. Nothing around me escapes my notice."

The knowledge of all this was a lot for Dynamene to take in. Her eyes darted back and forth, as if searching for something to help her absorb and make sense of all this. Was this what he was really thinking about during all those moments that he seemed to be staring off into space? No wonder he was prone to leaving suddenly and without explanation. Since he could sense what was going on nearby in his watery realm, he knew when there was conflict before anyone else at the palace did.

"All this means you must've been able to tell I was there while you were speaking to Lady Hera," Dynamene whispered, staring down at their clasped hands. "But I... I don't understand. Why didn't you make it known then, that you knew I was listening?"

Poseidon didn't respond, instead scrutinizing her face. As much as she knew that she should release his hand, she couldn't bear to let go just yet.

"There was no need to cause a scene." His gaze had shifted back to the ocean. "My bull-headed sister is troublesome enough without dealing with her rage at an errant servant."

Dynamene's face turned pink with embarrassment, but she had to concede that much to him. It was true. "Then... I have to thank you," she whispered. He looked back into her eyes once more, and she found herself drinking in the sight of those beautiful eyes. It was true that they were dark and cold and distant, but now she had begun to see something else within them. Now, it was as if he was truly seeing her. No longer was he looking through her, like a meaningless ghost. His eyes were fixed on her own, acknowledging her and listening to what she had to say. And the more she stared, the deeper she found herself falling into them, as if they were an ocean in themselves.

Falling, sinking, further and further...

"If Hera had known that I was there, I'm sure she wouldn't have been nearly as forgiving," Dynamene murmured, trying to break free of the spell he'd unknowingly cast on her. "And I'm guessing you haven't told her at all, as I'm still standing here and not dead or turned into some hideous creature."

"Telling her would do no good. I don't desire anymore damage done to my palace. The balcony was enough," he said flatly. "And I know you and the rest of the Nereids are no fools. You know why my sister visits."

Dynamene's heart fell once more at the mention of Hera's motives. "Yes, I must say we have figured it out," she mumbled.

"Tell me this. If you know why Hera comes, and what we talk about, why did you feel the need to listen in?" He inquired. His eyes drilled into her.

Her gaze fell back to the ground, and her blush deepened. As if you don't know... Then again, perhaps you truly don't. But... Please don't make me say it.

"Dynamene!" A familiar voice called out, echoing from high above the rocky bluffs.

She jumped and quickly turned towards the source of the voice, letting go of Poseidon's hand. "Actaea? She must have gone to check on me and realized I was missing..."

"You've been out here long enough," Poseidon responded. "It's getting late; return to the palace now."

Dynamene looked back at him, with his moon-bleached hair drifting about his eyes, and was reluctant to follow his words. Of course this would happen just as she had finally seen through the impenetrable wall he always kept up. She wanted to stay, even if just a moment longer. She wanted to talk to him and continue to get to know him. She wanted to keep learning just what went on in that closed mind of his. She wanted to keep listening to the calm, stoic cadence of his voice. She wanted to take his strong hand once more and feel his heartbeat, just as he could feel hers. No, she wanted to step closer and bridge the gap between them, pressing herself to his chest and listening to his heartbeat as close as she could get.

She wanted to stay here forever, just the two of them on the beach in the calm, black night, her looking at him and he, at long last, finally looking back at her.

Her feelings had for him had returned, but now they felt different. No longer did the sensations that they caused scare her. Now she just wanted more, more than she could take in. She wanted to feel this connection to him always.

"Dynamene! Are you down there?" Actaea's voice had gotten closer now; she must be descending the steps to the beach.

Poseidon turned away to look out at the vast darkness of the ocean and sky. Without quite knowing why, or what she expected to come of it, Dynamene reached quickly for his hand one last time. She saw his gaze flicker towards the movement...

But she couldn't bring herself to complete the gesture, and she drew her hand back just as quickly as she had reached out. Before she could bring herself to regret her withdrawal, she turned back towards the stairs and began the careful ascent over rock and sand towards them.

"Dynamene! There you are." Actaea emerged from the valley with a lantern in one hand, relief all over her face. "I went to check on you before bed, and you weren't there. I was afraid you'd..."

"No, no, I'm just fine, Actaea," Dynamene answered quickly, putting her hands on her sister's shoulders. "I was just taking in the night air. I'm feeling a lot better now, so you don't need to worry. I think I just needed some time to decompress for a bit."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it," Actaea sighed, embracing her younger sister. "We've all been concerned for you. If a night stroll on the beach is what you needed to feel better, then you're free to stroll as late as you want."

"Actually, I was just about to turn in for the night anyways. It is getting late," Dynamene continued rather shyly, remembering Poseidon's order. "Should we go back together?"

"That sounds fabulous," Actaea smiled, smoothing back Dynamene's bangs. "After you."

Dynamene returned her smile with the same old brightness that she'd recently lost, before continuing back up the stairs.

Actaea stared after her for a second before setting down the lantern and turning back to dismount the last few stairs to the beach.

Poseidon's figure hadn't moved as he continued to watch the waves roll in and out. Actaea's face stiffened, but she remained still and silent. She continued to watch the god for a moment, thoughts churning, before taking back up the lantern and following her youngest sister's lead back to the palace.

---

Author’s notes: This chapter definitely took me the longest of any thus far. I ended up rewriting some paragraphs because I found myself going off track from my original vision. I had a “wait, wtf are you writing here” moment, which I guess was ultimately necessary to get myself back on track.

So Poseidon isn’t such an empty person after all? maybe Man, all it takes is a hint of brooding vulnerability and the teenage girls come running lol I don’t mean to slander Dynamene, she’s just a girl having her first love and not knowing what to do about it. Things aren’t much easier when your first love is fuCKING POSEIDON

Anyways, how old is Dynamene? Good question. Nereids age at a rate of about 145 years being equivalent to 1 human year. Dynamene was the equivalent of about a nine year old when she came with her sisters to the palace. She’s close to 16 in human years now, so she was probably born around 2300 years prior to this fanfiction. Imagine living that long and still not being full-grown 😭😭😭

Dynamene’s oldest sister, Ianeira, is physiologically equivalent to a human 25 year old, so she would be about 3600 years old. Talk about an age gap between siblings!

#record of ragnarok #poseidon x oc #record of ragnarok poseidon #poseidon #shuumatsu no valkyrie #fanfiction

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shewillreadyou · 4 years ago

Text

Me before you: Chapter 3: Excuse me miss

A/N: This is a TRR AU. Liam is already married, but see’s Riley and wants his cake. If the readers are receptive this might turn into more than a mini series. Enjoy!

Disclaimers: Most characters are property of Pixelberry

Warnings: Language, adult content, mild sexual innuendo.

Word Count: 3468

Catch up: Haven’t met you Yet For Real

Prompts: None

Pairings: Drake & Riley

Song inspiration: Luther Vandross Take you out & Wait for Love

Be Kind: Hit the heart button, leave a comment or reblog. It makes a writer so so happy.

The hot water cascaded down his sculpted body. He groaned as he ran his hands through his luscious chocolate locks. He lathered his shoulders as thoughts of her ran through his mind. He was captivated by her. She seemed to consume his every waking moment. Liam had crossed the line yet again. Every time it seemed his transgressions got more and more out of hand. He refused to allow his friend’s actions to ruin his final couple of days in the states.

Bastien had taken over the King’s detail while they were in Waxahachie for Savannah’s wedding. For the next 48 hours, Liam was not his charge, he was his friend. His thoughts went back to her. She represented hope, possibility, promise. He had no idea what was to come, but he knew that it would be an exciting adventure if she was at his side.

As he pulled his white henley tee shirt over his head, his mind went back to the conversation he had at the reception with his cousin Tyler, who was a cyber-security analyst with the Department of Homeland security. Drake explained to Tyler that he would no longer be sitting with him and the rest of the bridal party because the girl who he had been telling Tyler about who works in advertising, who he met in New York was there, and he intended to spend as much time with her as he could. She was something special. She could be the one. “So you invited her to Sav’s wedding?” he inquired.

“No, actually she is the friend of Sav’s college roommate, Mackenzie, and came as her plus one. I had no idea she would be here.”

“Sounds like fate.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that of all the places in the world this one person could be, she is here at your sister’s wedding... in Waxahachie, TX. If this girl is the one, you’re screwed. You might as well spruce up your resume. She’s a career woman. She is not going to move to Cordonia for you, and you suck at long-distance relationships. I can probably get you in at my job. My guy Rob in HR owes me a favor.”

“I’ll keep that in mind if I ever get the courage to ask her out,” he told Tyler.

The truth was, he could easily see a future with Riley. She’s beautiful, honest, smart, quick-witted, and kind. His cousin’s words bounced around in his head as he pulled on his favorite distressed jeans giving himself a quick once over in the full-length mirror in the room his Mom had decorated for him at the ranch after she returned to the states when his dad passed.

He opened his laptop and took a look around the room. The Walker Ranch had been in his father’s family for several generations being passed down to the eldest male child, like each generation before. Drake stayed in Cordonia after his father died and was handsomely compensated by the crown. His college education was covered, and he and his sister received a stipend each month. Drake was always taught to do a lot with little and to save the rest. For years he lived at the palace and saved every penny. Being friends with Liam, he learned how to invest wisely and he did pretty well in the stock market. His newest pastime had been real estate investment. He had been buying foreclosed homes in and around Dallas and having his Mom’s brothers and his cousins fix them up before selling them for a generous profit.

He was curious, he was now the rightful owner of the Walker Ranch. It had struggled in the past, but because of his business plans and wise investment, the family business was as strong as it had ever been and his mom was nearing retirement age. What if he and Riley did end up together? He knew the plan was for his cousin Miranda to replace his mom when she was ready, while he retained ownership, but where would that leave him? He pulled up the DHS website and clicked on the careers tab. He was reading a description of a position that he believed he would qualify for, Intelligence Analyst.

Just then Liam plowed through his door without warning.

“Li! What the fuck man?” he shouted as he closed his laptop abruptly.

“My apologies, I hope I'm not interrupting. I just wanted to apologize if I offended you. You were right, any woman can be a lot. Carsyn is not speaking to me, she thinks I'm interested in Riley.”

“You are interested in Riley. She's just not interested in you and it's killing you. Let me ask you something, why is it so hard for you to grasp that a smart beautiful woman would be interested in me over you?”

“It’s just.. It’s not that. I'm not accustomed to rejection. It intensifies my want for her.”

“ I hate to cut our conversation short but I have to head out. I’ve got a few stops to make before I pick up Riley.”

“Then I shall take my leave. Enjoy! Smart man, planning a date when it’s going to storm. I’m sure you won’t have a problem closing tonight,” he said as he left the room.

The evening came and Drake drove along the winding Country Road towards the city. He tapped his thumb against the steering wheel to the beat of Chris Stapleton’s, “Starting Over.”

Then he switched from Prime country to the Heart and Soul station on his XM Radio. If he was going to have her in his life it meant embracing all aspects of it. He knew that music was a big thing for her and although she would listen to a little bit of everything she loved R&B and Jazz. A song by Luther Vandross came on and to his surprise, it was not very different from the country music he listened to all the time. The chorus was catchy and very fitting.

“Excuse me Miss, what's your name? Where are you from, and can I come? And possibly, can I take you out tonight?”

He found himself humming the tune as he stepped into the local Nursery to pick up a houseplant to go along with the Pinot Grigio he bought as a gift for Riley. He decided on a Prayer Plant.

It was relatively low maintenance and he thought it would be entertaining to watch it curl up in darkness. He didn't want to do the same flowers and candy that everyone does. He wanted to take her something that she would keep for a while, and possibly would make her think of him when she saw it. As much as he didn't want to admit it the thought of her dating someone else while he was back in Cordonia was driving him insane.

He was nervous and he couldn't figure out why. They were just going to hear some live music. But he wanted to impress her so badly. He knew that it was more likely that he would end up putting his foot in his mouth but with her, for some reason, it did not matter. When he pulled up in front of her place he put on ChapStick, and reached into his glove box, sprayed on some Chrome, and checked his breath before quickly gathering the gifts for her and heading toward the door. He tucked the house plant under his arm as he smoothed over his clothes as the elevator took him to her floor. A small lump formed in his throat as he approached her door.

She opened the door and his breath caught in his throat as he took in her appearance. She was dressed in a denim outfit with matching stiletto boots and oddly enough, the denim matched his jeans. It would almost appear planned. He was secretly thrilled. She smiled at him and he was sure he forgot his own name for a few seconds. She stretched up on her toes and kissed him sweetly on the cheek.

“Hey Drake, you smell delicious.”

“Hey. Thanks. These are for you.”

“Aww, you brought me a houseplant and wine? I’m not worthy, but I love it. Thank you. Come in! I promise I’m almost ready.”

She sat the plant on the counter and placed the wine in her wine fridge.

“You look greeeeat,” she squealed.

“Thanks. So do you.”

“So how’d you know what kind of wine I like?” she asked as she finished her eye makeup in the mirror.

“Observant, I guess. I saw a bottle in the trash when I was here yesterday.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Are you ready?”

He stood moving to open the door for her. “After you.” They made it downstairs as a couple of her neighbors made it home from what he only assumed was church. He couldn’t figure out if the staring was due to her outfit or if it was because she was with him. He looked at her in awe as she strutted with confidence to his car.

He opened the door for her and she smiled before thanking him.

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. She was rattling on and on about the artist performing in the festival and he was secretly praying she wouldn’t ask him a question that required an intelligent answer. She kept touching his biceps and his hand. Her hands were so soft and he was sooo turned on. He hoped that she didn’t notice the bulge in his pants and think that he was a creep. He wondered if she kept touching him because she was nervous too?

“Um, Ri? You good?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You are extremely chatty and you keep touching me.”

“I’m excited. I’ll try to keep my hands to myself, but the way this henley hugs your arms,” she wiggled her eyebrows.

He let out a low chuckle as he quickly glanced at her for the seventh time.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, never better. Why?”

“You keep looking at me.”

He grinned keeping his eyes on the road. They were nearing the venue when she glanced at his pants. He immediately assumed that she spotted his retreating erection.

“What?”

“We’re matching you know. People are going to think we did this purposely.”

“Do you care what others think?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Good because we’re here.”

They parked and he asked her to stay put for a moment. He got out of the truck and grabbed a blanket and wicker picnic basket. He walked around the truck and opened the door for her and she blushed furiously as she stepped out.

They made their way to a free spot among the crowd. Riley noticed a few glares from both men and women, who obviously had an issue with she and Drake being there together. Then she smiled as one woman gave her a smile, wink and thumbs up as she stood to the side watching while Drake spread the blanket and invited Riley to sit. She knew that some people would have opinions of them being an interracial couple, but Drake didn’t seem bothered. In fact, she thought it showed how courageous he was. When another woman mouthed, “That’s a good look!”

She bit the inside of her cheek trying not to smile. The truth was she didn’t need any validation. She knew Drake was a catch. The fact that he was easy on the eyes was a bonus.

“What’s in the basket?”

“Uh, a little something my mom helped me with.”

He opened the basket and pulled out wine glasses, a bottle of her favorite Pinot Grigio, cheese, cashews, summer sausage, deli turkey, sliced cucumbers, grapes, strawberries, whipped cream and 2 brownies. The opening act took the stage and Drake pulled Riley close.

“I hope you’re hungry.”

“I am,” she said coyly as she settled between his legs.

They cuddled for a bit before eating, until one of the performers played a rendition of The Gap Band’s, “Outstanding.” She jumped up and pulled Drake with her. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and swayed back and forth with Riley. She felt so comfortable in his arms, he actually had rhythm. There went another stereotype out the window, it just felt right.

After several acts had gone on and several glasses of wine later Riley settled in his lap as a performer started to play a slower song. “I love Luther,” Riley squealed as she began to sing along.

Knowing love the way I do

I can say for certain that it's true

There's a chance for me and you.

I surely feel like the time is near

The picture in my mind is very clear

I think love has brought us here

I remember not too long ago

I was just a lonely person

With a lonely heart, yeah

And I was hoping there could one day be,

Be a chance

For me to get the love

That I'd been missing

Sometimes love takes a long time

Wait for love

And you're gonna get the chance to love

Wait for love, wait for love oh, my

When you take the chance on love you'll see

It's not a waste of time if you truly believe

The impossible can be..

So hold on tight if you think you're right

Cause nothing hurts as bad as when you see

You gave up too easily

Now I remember spending all my time

On a dream that kept me wishing that you could be mine, yeah

And I was hoping there could one day be, be a chance, whoa

I never stopped believing there could one day be, be a chance

For me to get the love that I'd been missing

Sometimes love takes a long time

Wait for love, and you're going to get your

Chance to love

Wait for love, wait for love

And you'll get the love that you've been missing

Sometimes love takes a long time

But wait for love

And you're going to get your chance to love.

Drake couldn’t help but hang on to her every word. He wondered if she was trying to send him a message through the lyrics. She had a voice like an angel and when the song ended he was breathless.

“Ms. Riley sings too?”

She giggled as she rested her head on Drake's shoulder, her back to his strong chest. He fed her grapes then strawberries with whipped cream soliciting jealous glances from some nearby onlookers. She made sure to let her lips and tongue graze his fingers. For a few blissful moments, they both silently enjoyed the closeness.

“You know, this is pretty cool,” he whispered in her ear.

She smiled as his breath tickled her ear. Feeling the effects of the wine, she paused for a few moments before she responded.

“What’s that?”

“This. Us. The festival. It all just feels right.”

She wordlessly looked up at him. She wondered if she could will him to kiss her with her “come get it eyes.” Suddenly, a torrential downpour covered the venue, leaving Drake and Riley scrambling to gather the blanket and basket before sprinting to his Jeep. Before they could get there he stopped snaking his arm around her pulling her close.

This was it, he was going to do it, it was now or never. If she was the onehe wanted to look back at their first date and tell a romantic tale of their first kiss in the rain. Now was the time. He leaned in and when she opened her eyes her lips found his instantly. It was everything she expected and more. It was hungry and passionate and lustful and it made her lady parts twitch. When he pulled away he watched her for signs of regret, but her eyes said she wanted more.

“Hurry, get in,” Drake urged her as he took the time to throw the basket and blanket in the back.

They were both soaked. She laughed hysterically when he finally got inside.

“This entertains you, does it?”

She nodded as she continued laughing, her eyes were clenched tightly.

He went back in taking her lips again as it continued to storm all around them. Her hands roamed his body and her eyes went wide when she made contact with the bulge in his pants. Another stereotype out the window…Drake cupped the back of her dripping head with his left hand deepening the kiss while his right hand explored the soft skin of her thigh as a soft moan escaped her. Suddenly his phone rang, “Mama’s Song” by Carrie Underwood blasted from his pocket startling Riley. Drake huffed and looked at her with apologetic eyes before answering.

“Mom? What’s up?”

“I’m so sorry for interrupting your date Drizzy.”

Riley smiled.

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

“The power is out and the generator didn’t kick in. I gave Larry the weekend off..”

“I’ll be there as soon as I get Riley home safely. Sit tight.”

“Thanks Driz. How’d it go? Did you kiss her?”

“Mom! She can hear you.”

“Hi, Mrs.Walker.” Riley chimed in.

“Hi, sweetheart. Did he kiss you?”

Riley laughed again.

“Bye Mom!”

Drake ended the call and turned to Riley, cheeks flushed red.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” She asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“For the way, tonight is ending. For my Mom.”

“Nothing could ruin today. Not even your Mom Drizzy,” she laughed again.

‘Geez, Ri that was below the belt.”

His comment made her think about his bulge and she began to blush.

“Are you blushing?”

“Maybe.”

“Why?”

“Oh, it’s too embarrassing to share.”

“Now you know I won’t stop until you tell me.”

When they pull into her neighborhood the entire area is pitch black. Her building was also dark.

“Good thing I have candles.”

“Or you could go back to the ranch with me,” he said shyly.

“Really? I don’t want to put anyone out.”

“It’s just Mom and I. Liam and Carsyn should be out for the evening. Besides, I promised you dinner and it’s Sunday, I bet my mom cooked.”

“I can’t meet your Mom looking like this. I’ll be ok.”

“Riley, I’m not leaving you alone in the dark.”

“If you want to spend more time with me just say that.”

“Fine, I want to spend more time with you and I’m not leaving you alone in the dark. My Mom would kill me. Pleaaase! I can get you one of Sav’s outfits. I promise it will be an adventure.”

“Okay, I’ll go. But only because you’re so cute when you beg.”

He bit his lip. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

“Drake Arrington Walker!” she warned.

“Too much?” He smiled.

When they arrived at the ranch, Drake showed Riley to his room and gave her towels and a change of clothes while he went to help with the generator. She quickly showered, pulled her hair up into a messy bun and moisturized with his Nivea lotion that she found on the counter she walked back into his bedroom pulling on the leggings she borrowed. She was still bare from the waist up when the door opened. Her back was turned when she looked over her shoulder to reprimand him.

“Drake!”

“Riley, it’s me, Liam.”

Riley screamed as she scrambled to cover herself.

“Get out!”

“My mistake. I thought Drake was in here. But this, you are much better.”

“Get. Out.”

“Come on, what’s a little fun between friends?” he asked as he closed the door.

Before she could answer Drake barreled into the room, his fist connected with Liam’s jaw before he tackled him.

“Have fun with me you bastard, I told you to leave her the fuck alone,” he yelled as Bastien pulled Drake off of Liam. Riley watched the entire scene in horror from the corner.

“Get the fuck out Li!”

After Bastien escorted Liam back to the guest house, Drake checked on Riley.

“Are you hurt? He didn’t touch you did he?”

“No, I’m more embarrassed than anything. He walked in without knocking while I was changing.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about him.”

“What in tarnation is all that racket back here?” Bianca asked as she turned the corner.

“Just Li being a creep. Everything is fine Mom.”

Riley stood when Bianca entered the room.

“Riley, this is my Mom, Bianca. Mom, this is my Riley.”

His eyes went wide as soon as the words left his mouth. He grimaced as Riley extended her hand to his Mom. Bianca pulled Riley into her embrace instead.

“It’s nice to meet the girl who makes Driz nervous.”

“Mom!”

Riley laughed.

Come on darling, I know y’all were supposed to get dinner. It’s Sunday so I cooked some pot roast, mashed potatoes, carrots, and green beans and for dessert, banana pudding funnel cakes.

“Oh my God, Mrs. Walker, that sounds amazing. Drake, you were holding out on me.”

“Not, really. Maybe I wanted to cook for you first.”

@txemrn @pixie88 @secretaryunpaid@khoicesbyk @blackkingliamstan @mom2000aggie @shannonwrote @hopelessromanticmonie @chemist-ana @rideordiechronicles @lucy-268 @dcbbw @darley1101 @maurine07 @sfb123 @bbrandy2002 @kingliam2019 @schnitzelbutterfingers @lem-20 @choicesficwriterscreations @no-one-u-know @jessiembruno @queenrileyrose @thefrenchiemama @somersetmummy

TRR: @twinkleallnight @bebepac @mainstreetreader @romereadingshop @romewritingshop @lem-20 @texaskitten30

#choices fanfiction #the royal romance #drake walker #drake x riley #me before you #fanfic #fandom #fanfiction #trr #trr au fanfic #naughty liam #follow shewillreadyou #jazz drizzy #kim reads #kim writes #kim reblogs

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livinghostly · 4 years ago

Text

insomnia

isaac lahey x reader

not my gif!

words: 1820

request: "can you write some isaac lahey fluff where he helps the reader sleep 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 sorry if this is weird! i've been having a lot of trouble sleeping recently and imagining isaac is the only thing that helps :("

a/n: i described my personal experiences with being unable to sleep, it might not be the same for everyone but i hope it helps/you enjoy it regardless🥺

[...]

you weren't sure how long it'd been since the lights were turned off– two hours, maybe three. in all that time you'd been laying in your bed motionless, staring down the dresser a few feet away from you. there wasn't much to see, it was so dark, but you knew what was there. the outlines of picture frames of you and the members of your pack.

one of them was with isaac, taken by lydia, on a day you'd all gone to the pool. well, a kiddy pool stiles had set up in his backyard since lydia wasn't too comfortable with the public one anymore. you and isaac were sitting on two scrappy lawn chairs pulled from the garage, and he'd mumbled something mean about stiles. you failed to hold back a laugh while insisting it wasn't funny, and he watched you with a smile.

it was one of the very few pictures you had together. in most of them his eyes were glowing, casting a glare over the picture making it near impossible to see. but when he closed his eyes or wasn't looking at the camera, it was almost as if he wasn't a werewolf.

your eyes fluttered around the room, getting glimpses of color when the occasional car would pass by and it's lights would shine through your window. there was an arm wrapped around your torso that prevented you from moving too much, and you didn't want to wake him up.

isaac didn't snore, but he did talk. mumbled sentences under his breath– and when they were said loud enough for you to hear, they didn't make any sense. but his ramblings weren't what was keeping you awake.

when you had crawled into bed you thought you were tired, and you still were. the day had exhausted you, stretching you to your limits mentally and physically. you closed your eyes and tried to settle, but you would open them again every few minutes and be left looking at the same wall.

it got hot. you shuffled your feet, kicking around at the bottom of the blanket until you could let your foot breathe off of the side of the bed. as you cooled off, the shadows in the corners of your room began to grow, you pulled your foot back under the blanket in fear and scooted yourself farther into isaac's chest.

you thought about tomorrow. if you didn't fall asleep now, would you have enough energy to make it through the day? what were you going to face tomorrow? it seemed as if every day, the supernatural conflict in beacon hills was getting worse. you wondered what it would be like three months from now, or even farther down the road.

as your contemplation began to escalate, you became uncomfortable in the position you were in. hyper aware of the blanket against your skin and your hair bunched up against you, you felt an itch crawl over your body. isaac's grasp, although soft, felt constricting.

gently, you plucked his hand off of your waist and laid it between your back and his chest. he stirred, shoving his head deeper into his pillow, muffling his sleep mumbles, and he shifted himself on the mattress. you tossed your side of the blanket over him and sat up on the bed, letting your bare feet hit the floor.

glancing over your shoulder, you read the alarm clock. 2:03 a.m.

the door creaked open, leading you to the hall. there was a single light at the end, the sudden adjustment to the brightness made you squint your eyes. your steps were light as you nearly tiptoed through your house.

you slipped into the kitchen, the tile was cold against the pads of your feet. flicking the the light switch you turned on an overhanging light on the kitchen table, dull enough to keep your eyes from straining but illuminating enough to help you watch your step.

you opened the fridge and dragged out a jug of milk, the sudden weight tugging your arm down before you pulled it up on the counter. you poured yourself a cup before putting it in the microwave and setting the time for thirty seconds.

as the machine hummed, your gaze flickered to the window above the sink. you reached over and opened the blinds, pulling them up to see outside. the outside lights from your neighbor's house shined brightly and you could see the trees shaking with harsh wind against them.

before the microwave could go off you opened the door, preventing any loud beeps from alerting anybody to wake up. the cup was warm in your hands and steam rose from the milk, you took a small sip and let it run down your throat with a grimace. it wasn't calming or immediately effective as you had hoped, it just smelled bad.

you leaned over the sink again to peer out the window, looking up at the sky. it was gloomy, with storms clouds rolling in and covering the view of the moon. it was eerily quiet, standing there as you sipped on warm milk.

isaac didn't know how to be inconspicuous. from the other side of the house, you could hear his feet shuffling against a rug. his shoulder hit the wall and you raised your eyebrows in amusement, imagining the string of curses he let out as he recollected himself and dragged his feet into the kitchen. you smiled to yourself, pulling the cup to your lips.

as he approached, his eyes narrowed towards the microwave with one second left on the clock, and the jug of milk still on the counter. he dragged it off the counter and put it back in the fridge.

"i thought that was just a myth," he said, taking a few steps closer to you. "like, a placebo. parents telling their kids it'll work so they'll believe it and fall asleep."

"if it was a placebo, it won't work now that i know. so, thanks for that," you deadpanned. he mumbled an apology and wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing himself closer to your. you tilted your head and poured the rest of the milk in the sink, before setting the cup down. "s'fine. tasted like shit, anyway."

he started to smile, you could feel it against your shoulder blade. but he didn't say anything else.

"you shouldn't be up," you said, turning around to face him.

he lifted his head up, and you could finally see the lazy grin he kept on his face. his eyes were heavy with sleep, not fully awake, you knew he wanted to crawl back into your bedroom.

"i can't sleep without you."

a moment of silence passed between you, you looked to the floor and shrugged without saying anything. he knew the trouble you had with sleeping, it's why he started staying over more. it helped sometimes.

the pattern of rain hitting the window caught his attention, he glanced behind you. one of his hands fell from your waist, and he played with your fingers delicately. "what were you thinking about? i can still smell the anxiety."

"i don't know. tomorrow. the day after. the month after. all this... supernatural bullshit and how it's never going to end," you sighed dramatically, meeting his eyes again. "it feels like a lot sometimes."

"you're starting to sound like stiles, you know."

"is that bad?" you hummed, a playful smirk dawning your lips.

"i don't want to date stiles. i want to date y/n..." he tilted his head, and his tone changed. "derek told me a while ago, that in pack, burdens are shared, you know? all of us are in this together, and these aren't things that only you are responsible for or are even in control of... things are going to get messy, but you have me. you have the pack."

you weren't alone. the thought made you feel better, and a lazy smile ghosted your lips. "when did you become so wise, lahey?"

"i'm not, really. just regurgitating everything derek told me."

"it was a compliment, isaac. take it."

he chuckled, and took a step backwards. he still held your hand and tugged it along with him. "come back to bed."

a bolt of lightning from outside cast a flicker throughout the downstairs, followed by the roar of thunder as the storm became overhead. against all windows, the rain began to beat against it harder than before.

you nodded and pushed yourself away from the counter, following his footsteps as he head you up the stairs. as you passed the light switches you turned them off, casting a glance behind you like second nature to watch for any sudden movement in the dark.

once in your room he let go of your hand and shut the door behind you, before turning and crawling over your bed. you watched with a content smile as he childishly adjusted himself under the covers, before he gestured with open arms to join him.

his chest was warm and inviting, even through the material of his shirt. you laid against his side, his arm wrapping around you and resting on your back while his other hand was occupied with you interlocking your fingers.

isaac's heartbeat was slow and steady, while the rain quickly slapped against the windows. the rhythm began to slowly lull you into tiredness again. he gently rubbed up and down your back, breaking through your stiffness and relaxing you. every blink was longer than the last and you could feel yourself sink into his hold.

"things are going to get better, you know," he suddenly said, his voice was lower as he got more sleepy. he was fighting to stay awake. "and whatever we face next, we'll get through it."

"i hope so," you mumbled, and looked up at him.

you looked up at him, and his eyes were already on you. you couldn't help but become lost in your thoughts as you admired him. you couldn't be in a better place at that moment, everything was incredibly peaceful amidst the raging storm and the overwhelming supernatural presence. he kept you together.

gently, you separated your hands and pulled down his head to kiss him. it last a few seconds until you pulled away with a smile, seeing the lazy smirk on his face.

"i love you."

"i love you, too," isaac kissed your forehead, and you deflated against his chest again. "goodnight, y/n."

#isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey imagine #isaac lahey fluff #isaac lahey #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf oneshot #spleen writes

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marjansmarwani · 4 years ago

Text

we’re not broken, just bent

7.1k || ao3

When the school year started, Carlos Reyes had not been expecting to fall for the new English teacher. When he met TK Strand, Carlos had not expected to find the love he had always wanted so close at hand. Now that they have each other everything seems just a bit brighter, and a bit lighter. Navigating the twists of turns or life and teaching and relationships isn’t always easy, but if Carlos gets to keep TK Strand in his life, he will do anything to make it work - even if he doesn’t always get it right on the first try.

Or, Teacher AU, Part 2

Revisiting one of my favorite AUs for Day 6 of Carlos Reyes Week. Find the first part here.

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

“You would think that by now you would know better than to have your phone out at my table, Carlos Alberto Reyes.”

Carlos looked, startled, from his phone to find his mother looking at him pointedly while his dad tried not to look too amused from his seat across from Carlos. He blinked, before realizing he must have been staring at his phone for longer than he had thought before hastily sliding it back into his pocket. “Sorry,” he offered sheepishly, “were you saying something?”

His father didn’t even bother to contain his laughter at that and his mother rolled her eyes, “I was, but now I’m more interested to know who this boy that has you glued to your phone is.”

“Who says it’s a boy?” Carlos said defensively, ignoring the feeling of heat climbing up his cheeks.

“Unless something significant has changed in the past 2 weeks I’d say it’s a pretty safe bet, mijo,” his mother deadpanned. “He must be something special to make you smile like that.”

“I wasn’t smiling.”

His mom looked unimpressed, but his dad snorted outright, “it’s a good thing you’re a good teacher kid, because you would make a lousy actor.”

“You know if you guys are just going to keep ganging up on me I might just stop coming over for Sunday lunches.”

“It’s not wise to make empty threats Carlos, we all know you can’t resist my cooking.”

“I wonder what it’s like to have nice parents.”

Both of his parents ignored his jab. His dad returned his attention to his lunch while his mother leaned closer, “you know I have to tease you, Carlos, it’s my job. But if this boy makes you as happy as those smiles seem to indicate, then I am happy for you. I’d also like to meet him,” she added almost as an afterthought.

“Mom.”

“It’s a mother’s prerogative, Carlos. You should bring him by for lunch one Sunday.”

His mother was looking at him earnestly, but Carlos turned his gaze instead to the food on his plate, “things are still pretty new,” he admitted, “I don’t want to move too fast. He’s still a little gun shy from some past experiences, I want to make sure we go at a pace that works for him.”

He could feel the gaze of both of his parents on him now, but he kept his focus on his plate. It was something that he had been reminding himself of every day. TK had opened up to him, had told him everything and all the ways his ex had hurt him. He had made huge strides and put so much of it behind him, but Carlos was still wary. He didn’t want to push too hard; he didn’t want to risk what they were starting by being too hasty. What they had right now was so good, and if being patient and a little cautious meant he got to keep it, Carlos was okay with that.

He knew his mother was studying him without even having to see her face. When he did look up and meet her eyes, she gave him a smile, “You have always had a big heart mijo, it’s one of the things that makes you so special. You’ve spent your life always looking out for others, so I just need to ask: is that what you want too? Is that what is going to make you happy?”

He holds his mother’s gaze, and can feel his father watching them both. They’re waiting for him to answer, giving him time to think about it, but he doesn’t need to: “Yes Mom, he makes me happy.”

She smiles wide and reaches out to place a hand on top of his, “Then I am sure we will love him, whenever we get to meet him.”

-----------

“How was lunch with your parents?”

Carlos looked up from the coffee machine on TK’s counter to see his boyfriend watching him from the table. Carlos shrugged as the pot finished brewing, pouring the fresh coffee into two mugs, “Pretty much the usual, but with the addition of them giving me shit about being on my phone because someone was texting me.”

“I refuse to be guilted for wanting to talk to my boyfriend,” TK declared as he accepted the offered mug, “besides, if I had to suffer through Mateo’s niece's softball game, I wasn’t going to do it alone.”

“Good to know I could bring you some comfort in such trying times.”

TK rolled his eyes at him as he settled into the seat across from him and he grinned. He studied TK for a moment, taking in how at ease he looked. It was a far cry from the man he had met back in September, with walls a mile high and still living out of boxes because he was too scared to put down roots. Looking around his apartment now, you would never know.

The bookshelves were haphazardly arranged with books and mementos, and the walls were covered in pictures. Some included the backdrop of the Big Apple, but more and more were of his new life here in Austin. There were pictures of TK and his team on trivia nights and bowling outings. There was a picture from the faculty-student volleyball game, and more than a few of TK and Carlos. It was a physical reminder of how far they’d come; a visual representation of their journey together.

Not that Carlos had forgotten a single moment of it, but it was still nice to see it memorialized.

That reminded him of his mom’s question earlier, and his answer. He hadn’t needed to think about it and here was the proof: he was happy. It had only been a few months, but being with TK Strand was everything Carlos had always wanted, but had been becoming less and less sure he would ever get.

“They asked about you, actually,” he finally said, breaking the comfortable silence.

TK looked up abruptly, surprise written all over his face, “They did?”

Carlos nodded, “They, uh...they want you to come over for lunch with me some week.”

“Oh.”

The response was soft, but it set Carlos’s nerves on end. They were in such a good place, he didn’t want to ruin this. He should have never brought it up, “I told them it was too soon,” he said quickly, “that we were taking it slow.”

“Oh,” TK said again, voice still quiet, “okay.”

There was something in his expression Carlos couldn’t quite identify, but before he could dive deeper into it, TK changed the subject.

“Remind me again why we always seem to save all this for Sunday night?”

Carlos glanced down to his abandoned stack of papers waiting to be graded and back to find TK looking at him mournfully beside his own stack.

“Because we are responsible adults who understand time management?” he offered.

“Sounds right,” TK agreed, turning his focus back down to the paragraph he had been reading. Carlos finished the paper he had been on before he decided they needed fresh coffee and reached for the next one in the stack, only to frown as he read the first line: In the novel Things Fall Apart, the main character Okonkwo…

He doesn’t read the rest, because his classes don’t read Things Fall Apart. He holds it up to TK instead, “I think this is one of yours.”

TK scowled at the offending paper, “Do you want to grade it?”

“I do not.”

“And here I thought you liked me.”

Carlos gave him an unimpressed look and pushed the paper towards him. TK took the offered paper with a dramatic sigh, “I love teaching, I really do, but every time I let the grading pile up I question my life choices all over again.”

“I guess that is on us for deciding to teach English,” Carlos mused, “I hear other content areas don’t have to grade piles of writing each week.”

“So you’re saying we should switch content areas? Just show up tomorrow and tell Judd we’re teaching new stuff now?”

“Gym teacher always did sound kind of appealing,” Carlos admitted wistfully, “it would be a lot less grading.”

“Now that is an idea I can get behind,” TK said appreciatively, running a suggestive gaze over Carlos’s form, “does it come with those little shorts?”

Carlos gave his boyfriend an exasperated look before reaching over to grab a pen, which he threw at him, “Focus, Strand. Work now, play later.”

“Authoritative too - I’m liking gym teacher Carlos more and more.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Prepping for your SAT tutoring sessions?”

“Yes, actually. Which is why I really need to get this done, if you don’t mind.”

The words had far more bite than he had intended and he regretted them the moment they were out of his mouth. TK’s expression softened as he handed the pen Carlos had just tossed at him, “I’m sorry Carlos, I know you have a lot on your plate right now. I didn’t mean to distract you.”

“No,” Carlos countered, running a hand through his hair, “you’re fine, I’m sorry for snapping. I’m just a little tense, I think.”

“Can’t imagine why,” TK said lightly, “it’s not like you were asked to take over SAT prep for the entire 12th grade on top of everything you already do or anything.”

“Not the whole thing, just the English portion.”

“That’s enough Carlos. And you’re going to do great with it because you're an amazing teacher. And I’m going to help you, however I can - starting with shutting up and getting my work done so you can get some work done, I promise.”

TK gave him a smile and Carlos watched as he returned to his work, biting on his lip absentmindedly as he read, reaching down occasionally to write something in the margins. As he thought he gently tapped his pen against his mouth and when he went to stretch his shirt rode up ever so slightly, giving Carlos a peek at his toned chest. As all this was happening, Carlos made a decision.

“One more hour, then we put it away,” he announced.

TK glanced at him in surprise, “You sure? We still have a lot to do.”

“Nobody’s going to die if these assignments aren’t graded tonight,” Carlos reminded him. “Besides, I can think of many other things I would rather do on a Sunday night when I have you all to myself, Mr. Strand.”

TK confused expression melted and a coy grin took its place, “Oh, is that so Mr. Reyes?”

“I guess you’ll just have to wait an hour to find out.”

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

“Remind me again what we’re doing?”

“We’re putting up a bulletin board of 9th graders who have been on the honor roll for the first two quarters.”

“Uh-huh. And why am I - someone who does not teach 9th graders - the one helping you?”

“Because Marwani and Chavez get too distracted during this kind of stuff and while your boyfriend would usually be my choice, he’s grading essays. And you know how he gets when he’s grading essays. Besides, don’t pretend like you’re hating the chance to get to see some more of my face, Reyes.”

Carlos rolled his eyes at Paul as he handed him the next stack of papers to be stapled to the bulletin board in the front entry of the school, “That is blatantly false, I object.”

“Then maybe it’s the fact that you’re too nice to tell me no.”

“I am not too nice to leave you stranded here with no help Strickland, don’t tempt me.”

“It always does my heart good to hear the dulcet tones of inter-grade level cooperation,” a new voice said wryly and Carlos twisted around to see Judd Ryder approaching. “Do y’all need a babysitter or can you play nice?”

“I think we can handle it,” Carlos assured him, “but if not I’ll let you know.”

“Please try not too, I have so much paperwork to catch up on.”

“Ah, the glamorous life of an administrator,” Paul noted as he stapled more student names up onto the board, “next you’re going to wow us with tales of your endless meetings.”

“You laugh now, but give it a few more years and you might just decide to give it a try yourself. I think you'd have a knack for it - both of you.”

“But if we took you up on that you’d be down two teachers,” Carlos pointed out, “better not risk it.”

“Besides,” Paul added as he climbed down from the chair he had been standing on, “I greatly prefer only having to deal with misbehaving teenagers. You can have all the problem-causing adults, thank you very much.”

“I’d try to argue, but you’re right. Sometimes I miss the days where the kids were the only ones I was responsible for. Since I’ve got you here though Reyes, I wanted to check in - how’s the SAT prep going?”

Carlos shrugged, “we’re having our first session tonight, but the signup sheet makes it look like there should be a good turn out.”

“Good. Thanks again for taking on the extra work, I know it can’t have been easy.”

Carlos shrugged again, “if it helps them then why not? It’s only a few sessions, not a big deal.”

Judd nodded and gave him a smile, “Still, I really appreciate it. I do actually have stuff to do so I’m going to head back to my office, try to behave yourselves out here.”

With a wave to them both he was gone, and Paul turned to Carlos with raised eyebrows, “It’s only a few sessions, not a big deal? Man, talk about brown-nosing: you have been a walking stress headache since you took that on.”

“Yeah, but that was all the prep work. Running the actual sessions should be fine.”

“Either you’re Superman or you’re lying to yourself.”

“How are things going in the 9th grade wing? I’ve been so busy I haven’t had a chance to stop by in a while.”

Paul’s look clearly stated how much subtlety Carlos lacked, but he answered regardless, “Pretty good. No major drama for the past few months, thank god. Just a lot of the typical teen drama.”

“Then I guess they don’t change all that much because that’s pretty much how the Seniors are, with the added bonus of college applications. How’s Seth doing?”

“Better. He’s been doing some one on ones with TK and I think they’ve really helped.”

“I think they’ve helped them both,” Carlos admitted, “I think being able to see his past as something to help someone else has been a good thing.”

Paul smiled sadly as he began to gather up the extra supplies, “I’m happy for him. I hated seeing him so ashamed about it, and no amount of saying it was fine ever seemed to get through to him.”

“Are you calling TK Strand stubborn Paul?”

“Perish the thought.”

Carlos laughed as he helped Paul gather the last of the supplies and they turned back towards the 9th grade wing and Paul’s classroom. They walked in silence for a bit before Paul spoke, “Are you sure you don’t need any help with these extra sessions? I don’t know how much help I would be with the actual content part as a science teacher, but if you just want another body in the room or something all you have to do is ask.”

Carlos shook his head and gave the other man a smile, “I’m good Paul, really. Besides, TK has already offered at least 6 times.”

“Still, if you need anything...”

“If I need any help with a bulletin board, I’ll know exactly who to call.”

Paul rolled his eyes but made no comment as they neared his classroom. As they walked by the door to TK’s neighboring room Carlos paused. TK was walking through the room, glancing at student’s papers as they worked. As Carlos watched he paused and crouched down next to a student desk, looking at something on their paper, listening as the student asked their question. He answered, but as he was getting back up he looked towards the door and gave Carlos a smile that warmed him from the inside out.

Carlos smiled back, hoping that even a fraction of the affection he felt for the other man showed in the simple gesture. He lingered for only a moment more before he stepped out of the doorway, hoping he had left before he was spotted by any of his boyfriend’s students. The last time they had caught him in the doorway they hadn’t stopped teasing TK for a week, which meant that Carlos had gotten to hear about it for a week.

Paul noticed his hasty retreat and snorted, “Scared of some 15-year-olds, Reyes?”

“Not willing to deal with my annoyed boyfriend if said 15-year-olds drive him nuts for a week.”

Paul shook his head as he unlocked his classroom door, holding it open so Carlos could follow him in. They dropped the supplies on a table in the back before Carlos glanced at his watch.

“And I have a class starting in 3 minutes. Guess this is goodbye then.”

“Yeah, but try not to be such a stranger. I know you may not like us all as much as your boyfriend, but we’re still here you know.”

“Who are you again?”

Paul rolled his eyes, “everyone’s a comedian,” he muttered.

Carlos grinned, but paused right before he stepped out the door, “we should try to do something as a group after school, soon,” he amended, and Paul smiled at him.

“Apology accepted Reyes. Now get lost before you’re late for class.”

--------

At the end of his first SAT prep session, Carlos gathered his bag and headed out of his room, locking the door behind him. It had gone better than he had expected because, despite all his insistence that it would be fine, he had been nervous. But it had gone well, really. Yes, the extra prep work wasn’t ideal and it did cut into his free time, but now that the first one was done he realized that he had actually enjoyed it. Which was certainly not a realization he thought he would be having today.

If he was being completely honest with himself, he had been hesitant from the moment Judd had approached him. He wasn’t a fan of the concept of the SATs as a whole to start with, but like them or not they were a part of the college admission process, as Judd had reminded him. More than that, there were scholarships that were dependent on SAT scores. They were a necessary evil their students who were applying to college needed to face, and while maybe some could afford private tutors, most couldn’t.

Looking at it from that perspective, of trying to give students a leg up in an unfair situation, had helped to justify the extra time spent to himself. Now after their first session, he realized that he should have done it regardless. This was nothing more than kids wanting to learn, and he could never say no to that.

He left his room but instead of heading towards the exit, he turned towards TK’s classroom instead. He had told him that they could meet up after he was done, but TK has been insistent that he would wait for Carlos, that he had more than enough work to keep him busy while Carlos was working. Objectively Carlos knew that was true, but the thought that TK had wanted to wait for him to continue their habit of leaving together each day even when his day was significantly longer than usual filled him with such affection he couldn’t even put it into words. If he had to though, he would say it felt a little bit like love.

But he quickly abandoned that thought process. They hadn’t said those words yet and Carlos didn’t want to push. Slow and steady was their pace, and Carlos was loath to do anything to jeopardize what they had.

When he turned the corner into TK’s hallway to find the lone light of his classroom shining into the dark corridor, he was surprised to hear voices coming from the room. He approached quietly, peeking his head into the room and surprised to find his boyfriend sitting at his desk alone.

TK looked up at the sound of his footsteps and smiled at him, holding up his phone so Carlos could see that it was on, and on speaker. There was an unfamiliar voice coming over the line and TK indicated for Carlos to wait a moment before he turned his attention back to the phone, “Dad, I’m going to have to go now, but I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Okay, kiddo. Love you.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

With that TK hung up the phone and beamed at Carlos, “Hey babe, how’d the session go?”

“It went really well, actually,” Carlos admitted as he entered the room.

“I told you it would, but I’m still proud of you.”

Carlos smiled even wider at that, “Thanks, TK.” He watched as TK got up from his desk and began to gather his papers and begin piling them into his bag. “How’s your dad?”

“He’s good,” TK said absently as he searched his desk for something. He made a triumphant noise as he found it, placed it in his bag and zipped it, hiking it up on his shoulder as he turned to face Carlos, “He’s coming to visit.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. He has a good amount of vacation time saved up and figured escaping a New York winter for a bit might not be such a bad idea.”

“Any idea when?”

“Three weeks from now.”

“Wow, that’s exciting,” Carlos said, but really all he felt was panic. He didn’t know how they were supposed to approach this. He wasn’t sure if TK was ready to cross the “meet the parents” bridge, and he didn’t know how to ask. He also wasn’t sure how to avoid it if he wasn’t.

His anxiety spiral was interrupted by TK crossing to him and taking his hand before leading the way to the door. “He can’t wait to meet you.”

“Oh,” Carlos said, unable to hide his surprise, “is that what you want?”

TK froze at the doorway, turning to face Carlos with a furrowed brow, “Of course it is. You’re one of the most important parts of my life, of course I want you to meet my dad. Why, do you not want to?”

“No!” Carlos said hastily, “No, I don’t mind. It’s just, with the whole taking things slow and everything I wasn’t sure…”

He trailed off and TK’s expression softened as he dropped Carlos's hand and instead reached up to cup his face, “Carlos Reyes, you are somebody I am proud to be with, and I cannot wait to show you off to my dad.”

The intensity of his expression took Carlos’s breath away and they stood like that for several long moments: TK’s hand on Carlos’s face as they stood alone in the evening silence of the empty high school.

All too soon TK lowered his hand and gave a lighter grin, “Besides, think of all the embarrassing secrets you’ll get to learn, if you want to come that is.”

Carlos reached out and took TK’s hand in his own and gave him a warm smile, “Well, how could I possibly turn down an offer like that?”

---------

“Are you sure it’s not too soon though?”

“Carlos,” Michelle said, exasperation evident in her tone, “it’s been 3 months.”

“Yeah, but-”

“But what, Carlos? It’s been 3 months, you guys are solid, his dad is coming across the country to visit him and he wants you to meet him. It’s not that complicated.”

He scowled at Michelle who turned her attention back to her salad, jabbing at the arugula with more force than strictly necessary, “You’re mean today.”

“I am not mean, you are insane. He likes you, Carlos! He wants you to meet his dad! It’s not weird so stop trying to make it seem like it is!”

Carlos groaned and ran a hand across his face, “It’s just that we agreed to go slow, because he wasn’t sure if he was ready for anything else and meeting the parents seems like it might be surpassing the ‘going slow’ plan. I already got around it with my parents and I wasn’t expecting it to come up on his end.”

“Your parents want to meet him?”

“Yeah, they mentioned it at lunch a few weeks ago.”

“Did you ask TK about it?”

“I mentioned it.”

The look Michelle gave him was withering, “I would throw something at you right now but I don’t think anything in my salad would make enough of an impact.”

“There’s no need for violence, Michelle.”

“There’s no need for someone as smart as you to make such idiotic decisions either, but here we are.”

Carlos gave her a baffled look and she rolled her eyes before setting down her fork to explain, “When you mentioned that your parents wanted to meet him, what did he say?”

“He didn’t. I mentioned it and he looked kind of like a deer in the headlights, so I told him that I had already told them it was too soon.”

Michelle stared at him for a moment before dropping her head into her hands with a groan. When she looked up again a few seconds later her voice was measured as she spoke, “Did you even ask him if he wants to meet your parents before you made up your mind?”

Carlos held her gaze for several long seconds before he admitted, “No.”

“Carlos Reyes, I love you, but sometimes you can be an idiot.”

---------

Carlos rang the bell and waited anxiously outside the door of TK’s apartment, twisting the paper bag in his hand nervously. TK had texted him that they had gotten back from the airport and that he had picked up stuff for dinner, so logically he knew everything should be pretty much normal. But there was also a huge addition that made everything seem so far from normal Carlos could barely wrap his head around it. That was probably his anxiety talking, but the fact remained.

The door swung open to reveal his boyfriend but rather an older man with a striking resemblance to his boyfriend. Their eyes met and after a moment of confusion Owen Strand - for that had to be who this was - stepped forward with a smile and an extended hand, “You must be Carlos.”

Carlos matched the man’s smile and took the offered hand, “Yes sir.”

TK’s father stepped aside to let him in and waved off his formalities, “Please, call me Owen.”

“Well then Owen, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, Carlos. What do you have there?”

“Oh,” Carlos said, suddenly remembering the bag in his hands, “Biscuits from Olamaie - a local restaurant.”

“You didn’t have to bring anything,” Owen assured him, “but judging by the smell of those I think I’m glad you did.”

Carlos smiled at the older man, who stepped further into the apartment, clearing the entry hall for Carlos could enter as well. As he steps into the main room his eyes find the kitchen, where TK is pulling a stack of plates from the cupboard, “Hey Carlos, I’m just getting dinner together. Why don’t you and my dad get settled at the table.”

“Are you sure you don’t want any help?” he asked, partially because anytime TK stepped into the kitchen it was a cause for concern in his experience, and partially because Carlos dreaded the idea of having to make small talk with his boyfriend’s father.

TK paused long enough to roll his eyes, “it’s already cooked, all I have to do is warm it up and get it on plates. Pretty sure I can handle that.”

“Okay, but if you change your mind…”

“Go,” TK said with a laugh and Carlos grinned before heading to the table and joining Owen. He sat down and looked at the other man, who was clearly appraising him. “How was your flight?” he ventured, not sure what else to say.

“Good, it was good,” Owen said with a vague nod. Carlos nodded too and they lapsed into silence. He was searching his mind, trying to come up with something to say, wishing he had done a google search of “conversation starters with your boyfriend’s parent” before he came when Owen broke the silence.

“Listen, Carlos,” he said, glancing over at the kitchen where TK was still intently assembling dinner, “I know we just met, but I wanted to make sure I got a chance to say thank you.”

Carlos frowned, he had absolutely no idea where this was coming from, “Thank you for what?”

“For being there for TK, for helping him find himself again. He wasn’t in the best place when he came down here, but I can tell from our phone calls and now seeing him again that he is happier than I have seen him in far too long. And I know that a good part of that is because of you, so thank you.”

“I’m happy you think he’s happy with me,” Carlos countered, “but I didn’t do much. Everything he did, all the healing and growing, is because of what he did, not anyone else. I was just in the room when it happened.”

He wasn’t sure what reaction he expected from the older man, but a beaming smile was not one of them. “I really am so glad that you found each other,” he said, voice thick, “and I am so glad he has someone like you.” He paused and gestured to the pictures lining the walls, “having my only kid move across the country has been hard not only because I miss him, but also because I was worried about him. Coming here and seeing this, seeing you with him, makes me feel so much better. So thank you, really.”

Carlos doesn’t know what to say to that, but he is saved by the arrival of TK bearing a platter of food and a stack of plates. He jumps up to help him carry them to the table and sits down with him.

“What have you two been talking about?” TK asks as he serves food onto plates for everyone.

“Oh, just getting to know each other,” Owen responded breezily, “and I think I like this one TK.”

“That’s good dad,” TK quipped, meeting Carlos’s eyes, “because I like him too.”

Carlos smiled back at him and as the food was passed around, the conversation morphed. Soon enough it was Owen holding court, filling Carlos in on all of teen TK’s antics while TK grimaced from his seat.

“And then,” Owen was saying, already laughing, “he decided…”

“Okay!” TK interrupted, face going red, “I think that’s more than enough for one night. Pace yourself dad, you’ve still got a couple more nights here. Wouldn’t want to use up all your material.”

“Oh, don’t worry kid: I have no intention of leaving any stone unturned or any story untold.”

“Great,” TK deadpanned, “remind me again why I was excited for you to visit?”

Carlos chuckled and TK turned his attention to him, “And you are enjoying this far too much.”

“I would say I am enjoying it the appropriate amount, actually,” Carlos corrected.

TK narrowed his eyes at him but Carlos just laughed before glancing at his watch, “it’s really late, I should go and let you two get some sleep too.”

“See you tomorrow, Carlos?” Owen asked as Carlos rose from the table.

“Count on it,” Carlos assured him, “there are so many more stories I still need to hear.”

“I’ll walk you out, you traitor,” TK said with a roll of his eyes.

Carlos waited until they were at the door before he spoke, “I really like him.”

“You only like him because he provides you with premium blackmail material.”

“True,” Carlos mused, “but I also like him because he’s a lot like you. Besides, when you meet my parents it will be exactly the same, I assure you. I’m just enjoying this before the tables are turned.”

TK's gaze was piercing as he studied Carlos, “When I meet your parents?”

Carlos nodded, “When. As in, whenever you are ready. I realized I should have asked you if you wanted to before just assuming you didn’t. So the ball is in your court: if you want to, I’d be honored to bring you home to my parents.”

TK smiled and leaned in to kiss him. When he pulled away - far too soon for Carlos’s liking - he smiled, “I’d like that a lot, and I think we should. Maybe next week, after my dad leaves?”

Carlos nodded, “consider it a date, Tyler Kennedy.”

“Oh he did not tell you that!” he exclaimed, throwing a glare back to where his father was still sitting.

“I like it.”

“And you’re lucky I like you, not everyone can get away with using that and live.”

“Oh, so I’m special?”

He said it as a joke, but the way TK held his gaze nearly toppled him. There was so much more intensity in his eyes than Carlos had been expecting, “You’re very special to me, Carlos Reyes.”

They head each other’s gaze in the doorway to TK’s apartment in the late hours of the night and Carlos could practically feel all the things going unsaid between them. Now wasn’t the time to say them yet, but maybe, he thought, that time could be soon.

----------

Carlos checked the clock on the wall above his desk. 8:01, the exam had just started. He leaned back in his chair with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. He knew that there was no reason to be here, he knew there was nothing more he could do. He had spent 5 weeks preparing these kids though, and had offered to come in early on the Saturday of the exam for any last-minute questions and pep talks. There had been more than a few takers but now they were all in the gym, opening their test booklets and Carlos was left with nothing more to do but wait.

Logically he knew he could wait and worry just as well from home, but somehow being here made him feel a little better. He pulled a stack of papers from the turn in tray on his desk on the pretense of grading them while he waited, but he knew that he wouldn’t get anything done. He was just considering maybe attempting to organize something instead when there was a soft knock at his door. He looked up to see TK, standing in the doorway with a tray holding two paper cups, a bag, and a warm smile, “Hey you.”

“Hey yourself, what are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you,” he added hastily, “I just wasn’t expecting you.”

“Why, because it’s Saturday before 9 am and you're in your classroom?”

“More or less, yeah.”

TK grinned as he entered, setting down the bag to drag one of the chairs up to Carlos’s desk so he could join him.

“Usually you’d be right,” he admitted as he pulled two foil wrapped burritos out of the bag and handed one to Carlos, “but I knew you would be here, and I knew you’d spend the whole time worrying. So I figured you should at least have breakfast while you worried. And coffee,” he added pressing one of the cups into Carlos’s hand.

Carlos was too stunned to say anything, so he took a sip of the coffee. It was perfect, exactly the way he liked it. He set down the cup and studied TK, who was sipping his own coffee.

“You’re perfect, have I ever told you that?”

“Maybe, but a guy can never get too sick of hearing it.”

“So modest too.”

TK rolled his eyes but smiled as he settled into his seat at the corner of Carlos’s desk, unwrapping his burrito.

“Thanks for coming, I appreciate it. I could really use the company.”

TK nodded, “I figured as much. Besides, I kind of like spending time here, it makes me a little nostalgic.” At Carlos’s questioning look he explained, “this is where we had our first real conversation, and where I decided that you were someone I should risk getting to know, even though I was afraid of it ending up exactly where it did.”

“Oh, so you were scared of me?”

“Eh, I was,” TK said dismissively, “turns out you’re not that scary. And,” he added, voice going more sincere, “it turns out I wasn’t as broken as I thought. I just needed someone to help me see that.”

Carlos smiled at him, but soon enough his eyes were pulled back to the clock. It was 8:05 now.

“Okay, spill.”

“What?” Carlos asked, looking over at TK with a bewildered expression.

“Spill. I know you’re nervous, but maybe if you tell me why, I can help.”

Carlos took a deep breath and let his eyes wander to the clock one more time before turning his focus back to TK, “I know I’ve done everything I could think of, but this is still an important test. Most of the kids taking it today are taking it again in hopes of raising their scores so they can qualify for more scholarships. There’s so much riding on this; it could determine some of their futures. And, I just don’t know if I did enough - if I was enough.”

“Carlos…”

“There are so many other people in the department TK, I don’t know why they asked me. I’m not anything special, and this whole time I keep thinking that someone else could have done a better job. I’m worried that I let these kids down.”

“Carlos,” TK said again, more forcefully, “you are special. Don’t ever say you’re not again. You were asked because you are an amazing teacher. Don’t deny it,” he said when Carlos opened his mouth to interrupt, “because I’m right. I’ve seen you with your classes. They don’t only respect you, they trust you. They feel safe enough to ask you questions, to show that they don’t know something. And you have never responded to any question with anything less than understanding and compassion. You always find a way to help. That’s why they asked you - because you are the best at this. Sure, maybe someone else might be better with the technicalities, but no one can hold a candle to Carlos Reyes when it comes to helping students grow. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

Carlos could already feel emotions building within him at TK’s words and the sincerity with which he said them, but his last sentence froze him in his tracks. He was pretty sure his brain was short circuiting; it kept playing the last sentence on loop: It’s one of the things I love about you.

“Carlos?” TK asked, expression furrowing in concern, “are you okay?”

“Do you mean that?” Carlos asked instead.

The look he gave him in response was truly baffled, “mean what?”

“You said ‘it’s one of the things I love about you.’”

TK’s eyes widened for just a second, before he smiled, “Yes,” he said softly, “I do. I love you, Carlos Reyes, because of all of that and because of so many other things.”

Carlos blinked rapidly, trying to clear the tears that had tried to sneak out without his permission. This was everything he had ever wanted; TK was everything he had ever dreamed of. He had wanted this for so long, and he had felt the same way for TK for months now, even if he had been denying it. To hear that his boyfriend felt the same way meant more to him than he could ever possibly say.

So he settled on the next best thing, “I love you too, Tyler Kennedy, more than I have ever loved anyone. More than I thought I could ever love anyone.”

TK rolled his eyes, but it did nothing to detract from his beaming smile, “You just had to use the full name, didn’t you?”

“Unfortunately for you, I love it because it’s yours; and I happen to love everything about you.”

“You are a sap Carlos Reyes.”

“Yeah, but that’s one of the things you love about me, right?”

“Definitely,” TK agreed, before glancing at the clock. Carlos followed his gaze; it was 8:15 now.

“We still have 3 hours,” TK noted, “I think that might be time to get through some of the other things, if you’re interested.”

Carlos leaned forward to give him a quick but tender kiss. He took a moment to rest his forehead on TK’s, savoring the feel of the contact for another moment before he pulled back and grinned at him, “I’m interested in anything, as long as it’s with you.”

-----------

The next afternoon Carlos pulled into the driveway of his childhood home. He put the car in park and turned to look at his passenger. TK was fiddling with the collar of his shirt and anxiously smoothing it for imaginary wrinkles. Carlos reached over and grabbed one of his hands.

“Hey,” he said, “stop worrying, you look perfect. They’re going to love you.”

“Are you sure?” TK asked and Carlos’s heart hurt to hear his voice so small and full of doubt, “I can’t imagine that too many parents would love the idea of their child dating an addict.”

“What matters is that you have overcome it,” Carlos said firmly, “and that I love you. That’s all they need to know, and it will be enough.”

They had said those words roughly a hundred times since TK had first let it slip in his classroom yesterday morning and each time Carlos could feel his heartbeat just a little bit faster. He loved TK Strand and he was loved by TK Strand. Nothing in the world had ever felt so good. Now he was going to take TK inside to meet his parents where he would undoubtedly learn all sorts of embarrassing stories and become that much further entrenched in Carlos’s life and in his heart. He couldn’t think of a better possible next step than that.

He leaned over to press a kiss to TK’s lips, smiling when he felt some of the tension melt from the other man. When he pulled away he met TK’s gorgeous eyes and squeezed the hand he was still holding.

“It’s going to be fine and I’m going to be right beside you, no matter what.”

“Promise?”

Carlos nodded with a smile, “Yeah, I promise. There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #carlos reyes #tk strand #tarlos #my writing #tuserjamie #usermaximus #userac #userkimmy #userjilly #tuserpaige #aanathema #jazzyjezz #carlosreyesweek2021

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writefightandflightclub · 4 years ago

Text

Wanderers: Orestes x reader

Summary: friends to lovers / hurt + comfort but make it Roman, I guess?

Author’s note: this will make more sense if you’ve seen the film, but it’s not essential. This is my first time writing for Orestes (or ever writing historical fiction) so please be kind! And PLEASE tell me if you liked it, loved it, or hated it so I know whether to ever put myself through this again. (This was fun but it took 1000x longer due to Googling a new question about the Romans every 30 seconds. But damn, I learned so much!) Also, I made some definite choices with Orestes’ characterisation and we may not love it, so let me know!

Word count: Why is this 9.5k? I hate myself.

Warnings: 18+only. Unrequited love, explicit smut inc. oral sex, handjob, massage, penetration, fingering, grinding, unprotected sex (wrap it up irl!), cumshot. Language. One mention of period blood. Outdated notions of virginity (one reference). Romans had slaves- this isn’t a key theme. Major historical inaccuracies, probably. Typos, definitely. Slight film spoilers?

Song inspo: Oh wanderer, I've been wondering / If your brown eyes still have color, could I see? / That night, that night with those hands, those hands (Wanderers, Cat Power)

Tagging: (PLEASE ONLY READ IF YOU ARE 18+ REGARDLESS OF TAGS!) @darksideofclarke @damndamer0n @veuliee2 @yougottakeeponkeepinon @himbopoes @phoenixhalliwell @lostgirlheather @justrunamok @aellynera @damerondjarin @blushingwueen @iamthe-shadow-on-the-wall @holybatflapexpert @arabellathorne @yourbucky084 @mandoplease @mylifeliterally @arkofblake @multifandomlife22

“News of it has reached you, then?” Orestes addresses you glumly as you enter the room, looking up at you from where he languishes in the warmth of his bath, soothing away his sorrows. Bright and delicate notes from a lyre resound around the room, the dappled light streaming in from the courtyard seeming to dance and glint in response across the surface of the water. The air is balmy and the room tinged gold as the desert sun sulks towards its dormitory.

You flinch. Of course you’d heard. The whole city had heard tell of Hypatia’s scathing rebuttal of his profession of love. You had come as quickly as you could in order to console the man.

You admire Hypatia, very much, and that admiration extends to her wicked sense of humour; however, you cannot condone any act which inspires such melancholy in Orestes’ eyes as that which greets you. He is a such a gentle, lovesick soul, after all.

You smooth your face, and continue towards him neutrally and calmly, obligingly pouring the large jug of sweet-smelling oils and petals into the waters. You purposefully avoid Orestes’ gaze as he watches you, his arms stretched out along the edge of the square bath. You have prepared his most preferred concoction, and you hope Orestes does not notice the sheen on your brow, resulting from your exertions in acquiring said ingredients from the market at such short notice.

Surreptitiously, you examine Orestes for signs of distress as you dip a hand in to swill the water and circulate the perfumed mixture, steam rising to meet your flushed face. You note his eyes are puffed and bleary as if he has been crying, his curls uncharacteristically mussed.

“You look as though you might offer me counsel.” Orestes breathes, reading the set of your face with ease. He knows it is unlike you to bite your tongue. Straightforwardness is a quality Orestes admires in women; or, at least, in the few he keeps close. Further, it is a quality he more than tolerates in you, despite your mismatched positions within the household.

“One as lowly as I could not dream of it, Orestes.” You speak coolly and liltingly, in well-rehearsed tones, your voice nevertheless imbued with a bite and authority beyond your station. Your eyes glint subtly with humour as you proceed. “Indeed, I am not as endlessly wise as the esteemed company to which you are accustomed.” You hope you have masked the condescension in your tone sufficiently. As much as you admire Hypatia, occasionally you do stray too close to envy.

“And yet, your eyes are busy with thoughts enough for ten scholars,” Orestes observes, inhaling the perfumes deeply as the sweet musk begins to circulate.

You merely deliver him a wry smile, eyes cast downwards towards the motion of the swirling petals and oil droplets beneath your fingers. “And yet I bite my tongue. It is a skill you may hope to emulate, one day, pupil.”

His eyes shine gently in response to the soft fun you poke at him. “Come, girl. I will at the very least have your skilful fingers calm me. I will accept that as a form of counsel, if you would deliver it.” You finally look at him, your gaze flicking towards his umber eyes and finding them soft and cautious. It is not a command – not in the slightest, although it holds the appearance of one, as befits your position. Instead, you alone recognise it as a plea for comfort, from one friend to another. “You may continue to mock me, if you so wish. Indeed, mockery of Orestes is the favoured activity of the day, for all in Alexandria.”

You may not be a slave, but neither are you Orestes’ equal. He could command you, but the man, ever since he was a boy and you a girl, has only ever treated you with kindness. Still, though he may lapse and appear to forget that you serve him, the thought that you are here only through charity seldom escapes you. Despite that you are of noble birth, your parents had died before you could be married off, leaving a burden of bad debt and ill-repute behind. Orestes’ father had taken you in, owing to the deep, brotherly bond he shared with your own father. So, in the years following, you have worked for your keep. You know you are lucky to find yourself in such a rare and happy position, still being able to enjoy a moderate level of freedom. Plus, your duties are typically performed in service of Orestes, which favours you greatly. You carry them out not only with dedication, but with a song in your heart.

“Certainly, Orestes,” you state, obligingly. “And rather than mocking you, I shall meditate on your superior qualities. I will pray that something comes to mind before the bathwater cools.” You can’t help but chide him fondly, as is habit, and you are pleased that it tugs a hint of a smile from him, at least.

You climb the marbled steps up to the edge of the raised bath, coming to perch behind him where he luxuriates. You lean, reaching for the metal vessel to your side, and from it you drizzle some aromatic oil onto your hands, promptly beginning to massage the meat of Orestes’ shoulders with your deft and expert touch. You take considerable pride in the fact you can usually alleviate the man’s sorrows. Tonight, however, his muscles feel particularly taut, and you must knead him with greater vigour than usual in attempts to dispel the anguish from his body.

Orestes hums against your touch as you settle into your work and find the optimum pressure, though he does not collapse against you to the usual extent. Your brow furrows in concern as you detect the day’s pain and no doubt humiliation in his body. Hypatia had handed him a rag soiled with the blood of her cycle, in front of the whole Agora, unequivocally dismissing his affections. You could not imagine a harsher public rebuttal. Still, there is something to be said for clarity, you suppose.

“I can feel the words in your fingers, girl. I can hear them in your clipped breathing. What is it that you would tell me?” Orestes prompts, and it causes you to still your aggravated breath. It seems that his body is more in tune with your touch than you might expect – seemingly, he can read you as well as you can read him. “Speak plainly, I beg you. Not one of the slaves will counsel me with truth - only theatre and deflections. They will not admit I am cursed.” Orestes complains in a cracked voice, with a wave of his hand towards the slaves standing by with bowls of lye soap and strigils.

“Orestes...” you whisper, softly chiding this dramatic, lovesick fool in hushed tones. “It is a shame you have not pursued a vocation in the theatre yourself, as you oftentimes tend towards the dramatic.”

He huffs out a breath. “Perhaps there is truth in that. Though when love plays out as a tragedy and a comedy -at my expense- what other option is there except to take the stage and denounce this cruel pageant to any who will listen?”

You dig the heels of your hands more firmly into his shoulder blades, satisfied as the ministration finally earns a grunt of pleasure from him.

“Orestes,” you begin as your hands continue to work him. “I would willingly provide an audience for you. Most men think and speak, and yet feeling is like thinking to you. Indeed, whatever is in your heart becomes breath, and I always delight in hearing it.” There is no man you know with such an active heart. “However, I implore you, for a moment now be still and let your heart rest. Let me soothe you, rather than stirring the waters.”

Orestes sighs deeply and then gestures to the slaves. “A moment, please? Leave us, will you?” Orestes asks with a waft of his hand, and they pad obediently out of the room. “And get this lyre out of here, for its happy, mocking notes only ail me further. I can safely declare that music is not the antidote to love I was promised.”

“Shush, Orestes. Still your passions and let me wash your hair,” you soothe. You lift a red earthenware bowl and have Orestes tip his head back, so that you may wet and rinse his luxurious crown of curls. Your fingers weave into the inky tendrils to massage his scalp, your ministrations drawing a contented moan from him. The sound comes like honey, warm and liquid, sweet on his lips, and it undeniably stirs your hunger. You can’t help but trail your eyes over his bare form. His curls are wetted and slick, pink petals clinging to him, making him appear alike to one of the muses, albeit in his male form. His shoulders and back gleam with the glistening concoction of oil and water, the low, golden sun from the courtyard deepening the tan tones of his skin. Orestes is beautiful. Truly beautiful.

Hypatia had spurned him, and you could not understand it. If you could have a man such as Orestes dote on you the way he dotes on his teacher, you are certain you would not be so quick to dismiss his affections. You are certain that you would welcome them. You would welcome his touch. You would welcome his lips. Your thoughts race towards forbidden, carnal ends, and you clench your thighs together, as if you may be able to contain the swell of your arousal.

You sigh involuntarily, a brief whimper of melancholy escaping you as well as you consider the hopelessness of your own plight, and the sound snatches Orestes from the surrounding calm you have instilled in him. Even so, when his voice finds you it is smoothed and steady; no longer as cracked. His tone is more informal, and casual, now that you are truly alone.

“What is it you wish to say, sweet girl? You insist that I still my breath, so I beg you to speak. You need not withhold the truth from me,” he insists. “Can you tell me what I did so wrong? I have been relentless in my pursuit of music-making, so much so that the Gods cruelly visit aulos upon me in my dreams. When it is not her I am seeing, of course… Or, sometimes it is both visitations, sent entirely to mock me, I am certain.”

He still holds out some hope then, even now? Bless his dear heart. You keep your voice soft. As soft as the waning sunlight and the hazy air. As soft as his curls.

“Sweet soul,” you begin, squeezing his shoulders gently to brace him for your words. “I speak the truth out of kindness.” Your words are thick; dripping slowly from your lips. “You seek something from Hypatia which she cannot and will not give you, Orestes. There are others who would freely give what she withholds. To them you must turn.”

“That may be true,” he concedes, “but I want no-one else.” The lovesick man responds dolefully, his shoulders slouching and his voice small. No-one else. No-one at all, then?

You do not hate Hypatia. The woman is free to love or not to love as she wishes. You do, however, hate Orestes’ pain. You hate the love which spawned it. This tragically wasted, unrequited love, which is so abundant within him that he has become alike to an overflowing jug, liquid spilling forth from his eyes as his muse remains unwilling to drink his love down. You would drink from him. You would quench yourself on him as if parched, if he would allow it. You would dance in the waters of his fountain and consider yourself blessed.

“Shush, Orestes. It pains me that you are hurting so,” you soothe, your heart shattering on his behalf as you feel a gentle sob wrack his chest. Your usual balms are evidently not potent enough, and so, it seems, you will be required to concoct a more fitting remedy. “Will you lay on the massage table? Will you let me soothe your whole body? Your anguish is so that I cannot work it from your shoulders alone.”

Orestes twists in his position, turning his head towards you, tears glistening in his eyes like stars in a night sky. What if the sky is perpetually crying, as all of its planets are doomed to wander?

“Sparrow, I will gladly accept your magic fingers, and whatever form of comfort they might offer. The Gods blessed you with such skill and in turn they bless me.”

You smile softly, a guiding hand on his shoulder. “Come then, sweet man.”

“Ah, she no longer mocks me? I shall have to remember the effects of my teary supplications upon you.”

Orestes’ eyes sheen softly as he launches himself from the waters, his nude body shining and as sculpted as the marbled statues of the Agora, not a hint of self-consciousness as he parades over towards the table. You allow Orestes to prepare himself whilst you fetch fresh oils, noting that your robes suddenly feel too heavy and stifling even for the subdued evening heat. You strip off an outer layer, knowing that you will become further flustered as your hands begin their roam all over Orestes’ body. A desire twists in your stomach at the thought and you try to push it aside, focussing whole-heartedly on your pledge to soothe him.

You tug the lush red curtains closed to form a partition around the table, and when you turn back toward him, Orestes has laid himself out on the stone massage table, face down, his crown of curls quickly air-drying and crinkling. As you approach, you can’t help but take in the sight of him all stretched out, in particular his shapely legs and the curve of his buttocks, which are more than pleasing to you. Beads of oil still adorn his skin like glistening jewels, and your urge to touch him deepens.

Clearing your throat gently to indicate your readiness you move close, and Orestes hums softly in acknowledgment. You gently position his legs with unobtrusive and swift hands, moving them slightly apart from one another, and set his arms down by his sides, his palms facing the sky. “Comfortable?” you ask, trying desperately to keep your voice even.

“Yes, sparrow,” he says, as if pre-emptively grateful for whatever relief you care to offer him.

Taking a deep, centring breath, you again pour oil into your palms and rub until it is warmed. Then, despite the stirring and chaos in the rest of your body, your hands are sure and practised as they greet his skin. Orestes is firm and smooth beneath your caress. The man is no gladiator; he is a scholar, a thinker, and his body reflects that. His skin is not marred by battle scars, nor do his arms swell with cultivated muscle. Orestes does have a pleasing natural meat to him, and his body manages somehow to be both soft and strong; alike to his heart, perhaps. You have had dealings with gladiators- many of them brutes, and Orestes’ rarer softness is perhaps what enamours him to you. He may not have cultivated muscles, yet he conscientiously cultivates his mind and his heart. Of course, he has yet to cultivate his tongue, and often speaks too soon, but you can forgive him that. You much prefer straight-talking.

Focussed on easing Orestes, you work your hands into every part of him, relieving all of the knots you can find. Your fingers and thumbs work and knead and strum the muscles beneath his flesh until blissed out sounds are all he can emit, as if you play his body like a lyre, plucking resonant tones of happiness from him.

A sense of satisfaction overcomes you with each contented noise. If Hypatia will insist upon making Orestes cry, making his overflowing jug crack, your caress will insist on moving like potter’s hands over him. Your hands will replenish him as if he were clay; will fill in all of the fissures and restore his shape. You will pledge to leave him more whole than you found him. In pursuit of this, your hands move over his shoulders, his back, his arms, his buttocks, thighs, and calves – even the palms of his hands and his fingers. The action is almost meditative, as you focus in your mind’s eye on turning him to clay. On pushing aside the fact it is Orestes you are touching in such an intimate manner.

“Hmmm,” Orestes hums in praise, once you have rubbed him into near boneless-ness. “They say the planets seek to orbit the earth in perfect circles, but I attest that it is your hands which move in perfect circles, sweet girl.”

Your heart flutters like a locust’s wings at his words of praise, even as you continue tending to him.

You do feel as if you have rubbed perfect circles into his flesh – simply because you feel no other flesh could be as perfect. Who needs Ptolemy or mathematics, when you have the path of your hands over his body? A path you could follow forever, your hands -through practice- finding their most perfect route around him. Learning him more deeply, as you so wish to. Still, to distract yourself from your wants, you focus intently upon the meditative quality of circles repeating.

Circles like orbits. Like cycles. Like a potter’s wheel. Like the circles of his eyes, as warm in colour as worked clay. Like circular breath. Like the mouth of an empty vase. Like gaping spaces wishing to be filled.

You attempt to calm your quickening breath as your thoughts wander, and before long, you wonder if Orestes -oblivious to your wheeling thoughts- has fallen asleep beneath your touch, until you hear him softly suspire. “You are too good to me, dove. I note how well you care for me,” he admits, tentatively. “Of the two of us, I at least pray to the Gods that you can find the happiness which I cannot. It is what you deserve.”

“Do you praise me merely that I might continue, Orestes?” you deflect, as coolly as possible, a thin smile on your face despite your shock at the earnestness of his words. “Turn over and I shall attend to your front now, do not fear.”

He turns over, gladly, as you set about applying more oil, your hands working over his form. You rub his shapely arms and chest, feeling his nipples pebble beneath your touch, inducing a throaty moan from him. You work down his toned stomach and the slight curve and softness of his lower abdomen. You carefully massage up his shins before dedicating greater effort and pressure to the meat of his thighs. The more that you touch him, the more acutely you become aware of the few places you neglect to touch him, until it is all you can think of.

You know he reads you well, and you fear you may be entirely transparent as Orestes reclines on his back, watching you with an intent fascination as you run your hands all over his body. The act, like this, feels a hundred times more intimate. You cannot tell yourself he is inanimate, like clay beneath your touch- now he is a finished work of art before you and his living, breathing presence causes a plague of locusts to flutter nervously in the pit of your belly.

Orestes is overwhelmingly beautiful like this. He has his arms folded behind him, his head propped-up on his interlaced hands. When you finally glance at him, it is merely for a fleeting moment. That is as long as you can bear to look into his deep, intense eyes, or see his tongue darting out keenly over his plush lower lip when your gaze snags there. A gulp trails down your throat and you quickly look down, focussing on where your touch conscientiously works Orestes’ upper thighs. This does little to ease your growing nervousness, especially as you see his exposed member begin to engorge, rising to sit proudly upon his stomach.

You suck in an involuntary gasp when you take in the size of him, half-hardened, feeling that his sword -if fully erect- would certainly be an intimidating weapon. You don’t mean to keep looking; however, once you are looking, you can’t seem to look away. Orestes is pretty there too. So pretty, and so readily responding to you. He is girthy and well-proportioned, plucked hair at the base of him giving him a smooth, clean appearance, and allowing you to see every veined, ruddy inch of him.

You gulp at the thought of him swelling to his full capabilities, and a heat overtakes your loins and you imagine what your hands might do to satisfy this very particular stiffness. As you imagine how you might oil him here too and feel him hard and slippery in your hands, hearing the obscene, wet noises of the slickness around his length as you work him.

Lost in your fantasies, the sudden absence of your touch signals to Orestes that you have concluded your efforts, and he props himself up on his elbows with a lazy, half-lidded gaze. Almost appearing drunk with relaxation, he hums contentedly and this time you swear you feel it reverberate in your core.

“How is it you are able to both soothe and arouse me? My whole body is singing obediently like a plucked string, resonating from your touch.” His breathy words curl beneath your skin and have you singing for him too, your arousal spreading through your body like the warmth of dawn over the horizon.

Orestes’ oiled figure appears like a cast of bronze in the subdued light, the contours of him gleaming and shadowed all at once. His dark eyes are blackened with lust like the mouths of caves, dark and inviting, and all you want to do is climb into him and be surrounded. He always looks so soft to you. So delicate and beautiful. But suddenly, laid out for you like this? He looks masculine and sharp. He looks virile and rough and…

Oh Gods, you think as you snatch your hands away from his body, lest you might cave to your weaknesses. You should not be having these thoughts about your master. About your friend.

You mind flails for a course of action, thinking that it would be proper to move away. To offer him some wine to further soothe him. To, at the very least, do something other than stare at him, yet you feel drunk on him too after so long with him beneath your caress. You don’t want to stop touching him. It is not enough to hold him in your hands. You want to tip him to your lips and drink him down, deep, deep into you.

“Give me your hands, dove,” Orestes asks softly, looking up at you from beneath the fan of his thick, dark lashes.

It is not often that you are lost for words, or that you lose your cool. However, at this moment, your breath is strangled in your throat as if your desire has made your very spirit wane. You can scarce muster movement. Still, you manage to offer your hands to him as he commanded, presenting them to him tentatively as if they are tied at the wrists, unsure what he wishes to do with them once he has them in his possession. Will he thrust his shaft into your hand here and now and have you pleasure him?

In fact, twisting to prop himself on a single elbow, sweet, sweet Orestes wraps his free hand around both of your wrists and brings your hands towards his lips, softly pressing a kiss to each palm in turn as he looks up at you, reverently. The gesture is so soft and so sensual that it brings tears to your eyes.

Oh, how you have longed for a kind touch from him. How you longed that he might press his hands or his lips to you. You routinely pour your comfort into him until he is full and free from cracks. If Orestes is an overflowing jug, by the Gods you are parched. You are an empty vessel and you need to be filled.

“My sweet dove and your magic healing wings,” he praises, his voice slowed and hushed. “If she is my injury, you are surely my balm.”

You huff out air at his words, looking down at the floor in an effort to control the burgeoning tears and tightness blooming in your chest.

“Orestes…” you protest, weakly.

His words are kind and sweet, yet they serve as nothing more than a reminder that you do not stir him. You are well aware you can make Orestes feel peace, yet you wish to excite him as she does. You wish you could summon a storm within him rather than calm waters.

Feeling a little raw and a little caught off guard, you continue, your frayed heart wanting desperately to assert some kind of dominion over him, however tenuous. “While I cannot rival her, I attest that I might provide you something which she cannot give to you.”

“Tell me. What?” Orestes asks, still clasping one of your wrists loosely in the grip of his warm fingers, unthinkingly tracing the pad of his thumb over your oily skin, his eyes languidly wandering previously untraversed routes over the contours of your body.

You boldly continue, a slight quaver in your voice. “Do you not wish to feel desired, Orestes? Do you not wish to feel loved, like you give but don’t receive in kind? I can make it so.”

Orestes laughs disbelievingly then – a warm, deep chuckle. The resonant rumble is jarring in the somewhat still night, evening birdsong and cicadas the only other sounds within the room. He breaks contact with you, and that jars you too. “To which God would I pray to achieve such a feat? Even the pagans do not possess numerous enough gods to make it so, no matter how I may try and appease them.”

Orestes swings his legs around and comes to a sitting position on the stone slab of a table, his hand coming to cup your chin in wonderment and concern that you still refuse to meet his gaze.

“I desire you, Orestes,” you state plainly, your words blurting from you like wine from the neck of an uncorked vessel, served by a drunken man. You can no longer contain them and you offer them indiscriminately. “To be desired - is that not tempting?” You look him right in his umber eyes, your voice faltering, your teeth worrying your lower lip. “Am I at all tempting to you?”

“Sweet girl...” Orestes deflects, caught off-guard himself, his brow furrowing in disbelief as his eyes search yours. He finds no hint of mocking behind them.

“I have seen your sword swollen with need whenever I bathe you, Orestes,” you continue, your voice husky. “While you relax beneath my hands. I know that there must be an inkling of desire within you.” Your voice is little more than breath billowing in the space between you. “Won’t you let me touch you, with my whole, willing body?”

A hard swallow bobs in Orestes’ corded neck, his tongue trailing along each of his lips in turn. The air in between you mingles and becomes charged. However, you know Orestes speaks with his heart. It will take more than a willing body for him to submit to you, you wager. As expected, you look into his eyes and find hesitation there.

Can you really not tempt him, then? Are you so unlovely that he will not take what you freely offer? The fear of such rejection flares in you, and so you offer an unthinking, last-ditch effort. “You can even close your eyes and think of her while I touch you, if you wish.”

At that, Orestes delivers you a grimace, as if he has tasted bitter fruit. “That would be wrong. You should know better than that.”

A flush creeps over you and you wring your hands together, your manner becoming uncommonly deferential, your head bowed. “I apologise. I know you would not soil Hypatia with such actions. Forgive me my insolence.”

You fear punishment. Orestes has never punished you, yet you have never gone so far in your disrespect of Hypatia. However, you are surprised when his hands travel to yours to grip them firmly in his instead.

“Dove, save your apologies. I would not soil Hypatia in such a way and nor would I soil you. You deserve more than that, beautiful, sweet thing.” Orestes’ eyes are soft and searching as he looks upon you, and you are floored again by his disarming sweetness. “By the Gods, why on earth would you offer yourself to me in such a way?”

“Surely you understand, Orestes,” you respond in a small voice. “Wouldn’t you give yourself to her, in any way she would willingly have you?”

Orestes clasps your hands a little more tightly, his thumbs smoothing over your skin in attempts to calm your evident agitation. “Yes, I would,” he admits, though not proudly. “Without doubt, yes. But I am an idiot; hopelessly, pathetically in love.” Orestes speaks plainly, in a self-deprecating manner, as if the situation is both obvious and absurd.

You tug in a breath on which to launch your confession, praying for smooth sailing as the air catches in your words. “And I too am hopelessly, pathetically in love, Orestes. Though I maintain it is only you that is an idiot.” You add insult to injury, just for good measure, hoping the teasing may lighten the burden of your confession.

Confusion then realisation dawn on Orestes’ face and you look bashfully down to the floor as you continue, an involuntary tear forming on your cheek like a glistening trail of a comet through the night sky.

“In that, at least, you and I are equal, if weighed by the measure of our unrequited loves.” you profess, solemnly. A delicate laugh at the comedy of your misfortune ekes out of you then, puncturing some of the tension. “Two of us in love but not desired by our muse. Perhaps the both of us are cursed.”

Orestes looks upon you with a melancholic smile. With sudden affinity. He knows all too well how it feels to be in your shoes. Yet, he similarly has no words of comfort to offer you. He can only counsel you with truth. You wonder, as you look upon him, whether the Gods cursed him with melancholy, yet blessed him with eyes that were beautiful enough to carry it.

“Aren’t we a lonely pair?” he asks, finally, and he leans his head into your bosom dejectedly, accompanied by a hearty exhale. Still, he allows your fingers to tangle in his hair. He does not pull away from the comfort offered as your arms wind around his shoulders. You accept his comfort, in turn, as his arms wrap firmly and pleasingly around your waist.

“We are alike to the wanderers,” you breathe, speaking of the lonely planets and their blind, unfathomable orbits through the dark. Then: “Orestes?” you venture, idly stroking the back of his neck as his hands slip further down your back, shifting to your hips, his breathing becoming more ragged. He looks up at you as you speak his name, his eyes brimming with a quiet vigour. “Tonight, instead of feeling like a wanderer, you could be the centre of the universe. Might we not allow ourselves to feel a little less lonely, if only for a moment? Don’t you want someone who orbits you?”

“Sweet girl...” Orestes breathes. “You want more than I can give you.” Still, he is tugging you closer to him, holding you more tightly.

Your eyes rove hungrily over him. You cannot help it. “I am no fool, sweet man. I know well that I do not have your heart… yet I venture there is somewhere else I might make you pump blood, is there not?”

Orestes’ tongue darts over his lower lip again, the planes of his face looking sharp and angled, half in shadow. Orestes looks at you. Really looks at you, with those glinting and dark half-moon eyes of his. You pump your eyebrows suggestively as his eyes land on you with a questioning gaze, delivering him your most seductive stare from beneath your lashes.

“You are tempting, aren’t you?” Orestes teases with the hint of a cheeky smile, his lips tipping up at the corners. His face begins to come alive with it, before his cheeky edge is blunted by reverence. “In fact,” he teases, shifting his hands even lower on your hips and gently squeezing, “you are beautiful. These hungry looks you bestow upon me? You provide a certain beauty she cannot rival. She will never look at me the way you do, with desire lighting your eyes.” You can but hope that she will seem henceforth like an unfeeling stone in comparison to the liquid desire flowing through you.

“Let me, Orestes,” you plead. “Let me look at you and beauty will prosper in my eyes with every inch of you my gaze falls upon.”

“You truly desire me?” Orestes asks, nestling his head into your bosom again.

“Yes, this is the truth of things,” you respond in earnest. “It is my desire to comfort you in all the ways I know how.”

Orestes becomes bolder with your revelation, his fingers skimming lower, ghosting over your buttocks and splaying over your upper thighs, squeezing you there. “Your legs are quaking, sweet. Is this all for me?”

Both of your breaths are coming quickly, heaving in your chests. You tip your head back and moan silently into the air as his fingers dig into the meat of you, expelling affirmatives from your lips.

“Then tell me exactly. How do you imagine I may achieve such comfort?”

“When you take yourself in your hand, how does it feel?” you question in sultry tones, your hands pawing at any inch of him you can reach, skimming down his back.

“It feels pleasurable.” Orestes responds obediently, a quiver in his voice.

“Now, imagine how my skilful fingers might instead relieve your stiffness. Won’t you allow me to soothe you?”

“Yes. Yes, I will allow it. Come then and soothe me, sweet thing.” A playful, tempting smile blooms on his face, and, sitting on the edge of the slab of the table, Orestes leans back on to his hands, creating space between your bodies. It causes you to double take at the sight of him all over again, nude and oiled and his sword brandished. His eyes flick down to his proud length and you follow his gaze there.

“My sword blazes for you, dove. I am on fire as I keenly await your touch, if you would give it.”

You swallow thickly and keenly oil your palms, again warming the lubricant before you touch him. Your heart thrums in your chest now like the wings of a songbird taking flight. Then, you touch him everywhere except there, brushing against his length with only your thumbs and fingertips, until he pleads that he can take no more teasing. Finally, and with disbelieving relish, you take his fully engorged member into your hands. Starting at the tip and wrapping your hand, you slide one hand and then the other down his shaft, all the way to the base of him, making him slick. Orestes’ hips stutter into your hand from this simple motion alone.

“Your hands are as magic as ever, sweet girl,” Orestes chokes, as if he might spill his seed for you in mere moments. He emits a deep rumble from his chest as you massage him there, both hands on his shaft. There are wet sounds as you coat him until he is gleaming, and as you circle your thumb over the head of him whilst you pump and tug him in the grip of your palms, as if you intend to milk him dry. You squeeze him firmly and add a slight twist to your wrists as you work him, fascinated by the size and hardness and contours of him. Orestes throws his head back, a strangled moan emanating from his slack mouth as his eyes flutter closed from the sensations. He looks as though he might collapse from them, his arms shaking and barely supporting him.

“My dove, the things you are making me feel are surely sent from Elysium.” His voice is like warm desert sand slipping through your fingers, rough and soft all at once.

“You deserve it, Orestes,” you gush. “I want to make all of you feel good. I want to give you everything,” you admit, your voice filled with veneration.

When Orestes tips his head back down from the skies his eyes are hungry. He’s never looked at you like this before. Like a wolf emerging from a cave. Just for a moment, he looks at you as he looks at her, and you feel as bright as the midday desert sun.

“Tell me. What might I give you? My head under your skirts? My fingers buried in you?”

“I am not finished giving to you yet,” you purr. With relish, you sink to your knees, placing your hands flat on Orestes thighs, dipping your lips towards his shaft.

Orestes moans in anticipation, yet tugs lightly on your hair to prevent you from sinking down on him, momentarily. “Your most sacred body part?”

“The Christians believe that. You’re a pagan, Orestes. Let me suck you?”

Orestes nods affirmatively and throws his head back in another open-mouthed moan as your wet mouth finds the tip of him, your tongue winding around his head and the contours of him. He feels warm and fleshy, and his girth strains and swells against your mouth, ridges and veins slipping past your tongue as you flatten it to dip you head all the way down the shaft of him. Sucking on him is divine, the uncharacteristically gruff and desperate noises coming from his mouth spurring you on.

Orestes flails and tugs helplessly at your hair after your continued efforts. “Ungg. Stop, my bird, else I will reach my peak. Your mouth is even more magic than your hands.”

You slide your mouth from his shaft slowly and with a pop, looking up at him deviously with cock-swollen lips. “Now you are trembling, Orestes. Is this all for me?” you purr, tone dark with lust. He moans again, merely from the sight of how carnal and delectable you look like this.

“I want to touch you,” he pleads, desperately. “I need to look upon you. Will you undress for me?”

Touching Orestes and giving him pleasure is one thing, though you don’t know if you can bear him touching you without becoming vapour. Without erupting. A gulp trails down your throat yet you nod keenly. You unfasten clasps and ties and slip the diaphanous fabric away from your body, your robes cascading to the floor in a gathered heap like a despondent cloud.

“Fuck.” Orestes intones gruffly as his eyes trail over you, and he appears to have stalled as he is met with the sight of you. Crude words from his lips are rare, in comparison to his profanity-loving brethren. That the curse is delivered with a voice full of grit and hooded eyes, that you inspired it, has your core clenching around nothing as he looks over every inch of your body in awe and obvious approval.

You move slowly and fluidly towards him, your movements sultry, and Orestes regains his faculties as the need to touch you rather than merely stare at you overtakes him. He takes the jug of oil and tips some into his own hands, rising to stand close enough to you that the tip of his erection presses enthusiastically against your hip. Then, after awaiting a nod from you, he reaches his hands up to rub oil over your breasts, seemingly fascinated by the way your nipples harden beneath his meticulous fingers. He pinches and rolls them and his touch has your core positively molten.

You moan for him, extending your arms out to his shoulders to steady yourself as he puts his hands on you. No-one has touched you like this. Not once in your life have you been touched with such softness.

“You swoon for me, sweetness?”

“I cannot fathom such a divine touch. I think that I must be within a dream for I have your hands upon me.”

Orestes spins you, so that you may steady yourself against the edge of the stone slab, moving to press his hot body against you, burying his head into the crook of your neck.

“Do not place yourself below me, sweet thing. I intend for us to be equals in our pursuit of pleasure.” He speaks into your neck as his lips drag along your skin, his sprouting stubble grazing you there- the only rough part of him. “Tell me that you desire me, dove.”

“I desire you,” you offer the words to him freely.

“And I you.” he says earnestly, laden with need, his admission sending a shudder all the way down to your core.

Your faces are close now, your fractured breath mingling in the tight space between you, and this heat, oh gods this heat growing between your legs. You cannot help but dip your head as if to kiss him, your forehead resting against his and noses brushing as you whimper and whine with need.

“I cannot exchange breath with you. We must not.” Orestes protests weakly as your lips skim his. Now you understand this regard for your mouth is not simply some Christian notion. You understand that Orestes wishes to save his own breath for Hypatia. Even now.

“She will not love you like this,” you reason, your bluntness a product of your furious need.

Orestes groans and looks perplexed by indecision, even as his hands trail wantonly over your buttocks.

“And yet, I orbit her all the same,” he says resignedly.

“The planets travel the most perfect path possible,” you bargain into his neck. “Yet you insist on travelling the path with most opposition.”

“My heart may be foolish, yet my hands might travel the smoothest path, hmm?”

At that, Orestes’ hands move between your legs, his oiled fingers skimming your clit and your drenched folds. You practically sob into the air. It feels too good. It feels divinely good.

“Will this do, then?” his cheeky smile resurfaces as you buck against his touch, your heat already so sensitive and responsive to him.

“Don’t stop, Orestes. Don’t stop,” you plead and moan, body lurching against him, as you become a trembling mess. You can scarce believe that Orestes’ naked body is held warm against yours, the promise of his erection still pressing against you - still rock hard for you.

“I think there is a way we can both be comforted, dove,” Orestes speaks, his voice overflowing with need. If you wish it, I would have you on top of me as you grind this delicious mess on my sword.”

“Yes. Oh Gods, yes.” Your request is breathy, as if your throat is parched.

Orestes shifts to lay himself out on the table again, taking your hand and guiding you to straddle him. You settle your core over the top of his shaft, your folds pressing up against the length of him. You glide yourself all along the straining mass of him, coating him in your juices; massaging him with your heat alone and shifting your hips in whatever pattern allows you to best caress and engulf him in your warmth and friction. Even without penetration, the sensations are blissful, and you writhe together as each stroke heightens your shared pleasure. Each time you dip your folds wantonly over the head of him, his cock twitches to meet you, as if in attempt to be swallowed entirely by your heat.

Orestes tips his hips up into you, pinning your own hips with his hands, increasing his pressure against your slick as his hardened length slips and slides against you. The way his head skims rhythmically against your clit, the way your folds swallow and caress the tip of him, and the blunt pressure against your entrance have you whimpering for him. You think the pleasure between your thighs must be at the centre of all creation, and you are enthralled by its force as you orbit it.

You loll forward, almost completely limp and unravelled by bliss already. Your hands fall to either side of Orestes’ torso to steady yourself, boxing him in and creating an intimate circle with your arms, your faces close, moans billowing right into each other’s ears, cheeks, necks. Lips hovering close.

“You make me feel so good,” you moan. “Kiss me, Orestes. Please. I beg you. Kiss me just once as if you love me.” your words are breathy and hurried and needy, your coolness entirely undone.

Orestes groans as he continues to grind against you. “I cannot do that, my dove.”

“Then please… please just kiss me?” you beg as you writhe your wetness all over him with increasing pace.

He folds his knees to the rear of you so that he may plant his feet and press himself even more firmly to you. The motion adjusts his angle and he strikes your clit just right, causing you to shiver and deliver a throaty, brazen “fuck” into the air.

At that, Orestes looks at your lips with a growl, and finally caves to his desire. First, he presses a chaste prayer to your lips. It’s as if he tries his utmost to kiss you like he loves you. Perhaps as if he attempts to will it so. However, the truth of it is, he desires you, and as soon as his lips taste yours his mouth returns even hungrier than he began. With his next kiss, your tongues mingle softly, like dissolving honey, before the kiss grows in intensity. With his next, his mouth is opening to devour yours, his tongue probing and tasting the cave of you, your moans stifled as his soft lips crush against you.

“I wish I could hold you inside of me,” you say longingly into his kiss as you approach your peak.

“I wish it could be so, my sweet. Alas, I cannot release my seed inside you, and nor can I take your innocence. That gift is yours to give to whomever you may marry.”

“Orestes, you sweet fool. I am not innocent. And there is no other I would marry. You may not love me, Orestes, but I orbit you all the same.”

As the sensations intensify, you enjoy the slick, solid mass of him beneath you. You relish edging him closer and closer towards his end. Lost in the throes of pleasure, Orestes clasps you to him so tightly, his arms surrounding you in a perfect circle. You writhe and moan and whimper for each other, your crushing embrace at once both melancholic and urgent, his lips meeting yours again and again in desperation, as if famished. You taste salt and you know not whether it is he who is crying or you, or some combination, but it doesn’t matter in this moment. You would drink his tears down. Drink all of him down.

“I will find my peak in only moments,” you warn. “I will reach it soon.”

“And I too. Come, get beneath me,” Orestes suggests, his typically smooth voice ragged.

He flips you urgently and you settle beneath him, legs spread open, more than ready for him to nestle between them.

“You truly wish to have me inside of you?” he asks, examining your face for any hint of hesitation.

“Yes, Orestes. Yes. Please.”

He rubs your clit skilfully until you are evidently on the edge of bliss, maintaining a blunt pressure against your entrance with the tip of him. Finally, he dips to plant kisses on your lips, your neck, your chest as he drives his whole length forward, sheathing himself in your warm, surrounding depths. One thrust is all it takes and you are clenching around him, writhing in a display of pleasure, moans directed at the sky in praise of the Gods as your release bursts through you like the birth of a flaming sun.

Orestes mutters strings of soft praise and crude profanities into the air. His breaths become laboured gusts of air as he attempts to stave off his end whilst you tighten so deliciously around him, his eyes screwing shut as he brings himself under control, his body trembling.

“Where, sweet? Where?” he manages to choke out.

“Let me taste you,” you invite, and he thrusts deeply into you once more before pulling out and coming to his knees, taking his shaft delicately in his hand, his needy cock twitching for some contact, some release. The head of him is ruddy and swollen and he looks fit to burst as he gleams with a concoction of oils and your juices.

“Unnggg. I need to find my end. Oh Gods,” Orestes begs, and you transfer your position as quickly as possible to all fours to oblige him, bringing your mouth to his shaft.

The first hot rope of cum spills over your lips and chin at the mere suggestion of filling up your pretty, eager mouth, and the remainder of his seed pumps into you, salty and sweet as your lips and tongue surround him. He moans and stutters as he fills you up with each pulse from his aching balls, grabbing your head as he sinks the length of him down into your throat as deeply as you can take him. Groans and praises tumble from his lips as you suck him dry, his relieved shaft throbbing in your mouth.

You tease Orestes with further kitten licks to his sensitive head, easing him gently down from his high. You hold him there until you are sure you have drained every drop from him; even until he has softened, feeling entirely unwilling to relinquish his delicious cock from your mouth. Once he is freed, you lick the stray salty release from your plump lips as he regains himself, looking down at you with something resembling awe.

“You are beautiful,” he praises, in disbelief.

“As are you,” you respond with a blissed-out smile, your tongue flicking to savour the residual tang of him on your teeth.

You collapse on to the stone slab together whilst you regain your breath, ending up top-to-toe. Orestes insists on tasting you too, nuzzling his head in between your hot thighs to lap at your own sweet release, sending shuddering aftershocks through your body as you feel his eager lips and tongue nestle over your core. When your clit becomes too sensitive you giggle in protest and shift on the slab until you are each stretched out on your side, using your elbows as pillows and looking into one another’s eyes.

You are happy. You are. And yet, a single disobedient tear rolls down your cheek, causing Orestes’ brow to furrow in concern.

“Sweet girl, I am sorry for your pain. How I wish that I could give my love to you, sparrow.”

“Shush, sweet soul. Don’t stir the waters. Simply let them still for a moment,” you counsel softly, an even smile on your face even as your eyes shine with sadness. He returns your smile and reaches out to brush your tears away with the pad of his thumb.

“I will try, though you have riled all the waters within me to a frenzy, my peak washing over me like a great wave.”

A broader smile blooms on your face then. You have stirred him after all. You snuggle close to him as he lazily traces nonsense shapes on your arms and back with his fingers, and you lie there together in comfortable, quiet contemplation, wanting to savour whatever this had meant to each of you. You remain there, until your heart calls you to fracture the silence.

“I must go,” you whisper reluctantly, shrinking from him as you withdraw, alike to a flower withdrawing its petals from a waning sun.

You push yourself up to a seated position on the stone table, yet Orestes’ hand flicks out to wrap around one of your wrists. “Don’t. Don’t go,” he pleads.

You look at him softly, with infinite fondness. “You and I both know that this afterglow you are feeling is not love. I wished to bask in this false sun for as long as possible, yet I do not wish to be here when it fades, Orestes.”

You look into his eyes and his admiration blazes so brightly for a false sun that you could almost be convinced of it.

“First, tell me- did it comfort you too?”

“It did,” you reassure, truthfully, hopping down from the table and beginning to gather your strewn garments. “Though, it is both a comfort and a torture to know that not only are you sweet as honey, beautiful as a muse, sharp as a scythe, and funny as a curse tablet... you are also skilled at swordsmanship. The Gods truly excelled themselves with you.”

Orestes’ eyes gleam, happy to see your playful nature shining through once more. He swings his own legs to retake his seated position, facing you as you redress. “Hmm. High praise from one usually so mocking. Though you evidently forget that I can now play the aulos. Another superior quality for your ever-lengthening list.” He grins broadly at you, and you find him disarming all over again.

Orestes grabs your wrist and tugs you into him in a swift motion, wrapping a single arm around your waist and looking up at you with new eyes as your laughter lilts down toward him.

“Though, in truth, dove,” he smiles fondly, “I think you brandish a sword better than I. You are all that I am and more, I venture.”

You settle your arms around him again, fingers twisting in the curls at the nape of his neck. “We are more alike than I realised, then,” you say pridefully.

“Yes,” he agrees, “It is so. After all, we were both stupid enough to fall for the wrong person.”

His eyes spark with humour as he delivers his words, but there is a sadness buried beneath which you are determined not to unearth. “And tonight, Orestes, we were smart enough to make the best of it, for once.”

You smooth your face again, trying not dwell on his insistence that you each fell for the wrong person. Hypatia may not be a match for him, but you still cannot accept the notion that he is in any way wrong for you.

Instead, you concentrate on the way Orestes’ eyes glow in admiration as he gazes up at you, a smile lingering still on his lips. He reaches up to your cheek to caress you there, but you snatch his hand playfully in yours before he can fulfil his intention.

“Careful, Orestes, do not fall for me,” you caution chidingly. “I have been told you are cursed. I, for one, want nothing of it.” You flash him a sad yet cheeky smile, before reaching out to caress him on the cheek instead, tenderly flattening your palm to his face.

You are reluctant to end your encounter on a sombre note, and yet there are things which must not remain unspoken.

“If you need me Orestes, I am here. And, it must be said… I love you. You are loved, and you are more than worthy of it, sweet soul. Some with the cheek to call themselves scholars of the stars evidently neglect some of the sky’s greatest wonders. That is their loss. What a dark night, I think, without the brightest star in the sky.” As a final gesture, you smile softly and dip your face to press a shy, chaste kiss to his cheek. Orestes’ eyes flutter closed as your lips brush against him, and he watches you with shining, grateful eyes as you pad out of the room.

You leave him, you hope, a little less overflowing. A little less cracked. He leaves you a little less empty. A little less parched.

Maybe Orestes will resolve to pray to the Gods that he can love you in return. Maybe one day soon he can. If it is your fate, then so be it.

Though you dare not invite hope in yet, perhaps you need not wander so alone along your path, now that you have spoken your truth. Maybe when the paths of wanderers do not run in perfect circles, all that remains is to create a new model of the planetary system.

For now, you glance back at him as you ready to leave and he is still looking at you in that rare way, even as tears pool on his cheeks. He is looking at you as he looks at her. As the sun sinks towards its dormitory, you feel momentarily like your star is rising.

For now, that will have to be enough, because he has nothing more to give you.

#oscar isaac #orestes x reader #orestes #historical fiction #agora

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jjba-hell · 3 years ago

Text

Respite

Day 1 of LaSquadraweek2021 and the prompt was Fantasy AU.

No trigger warnings: maybe a mentioning of nudity and the awkward moments that come from that. Maybe some suggestive actions but not going into it.

Content-wise: you’re looking at Fantasy AU, you and Risotto know one another, both being Dark Elven-ish creatures. It’s essentially an OOC Risotto x reader

I just wanted to have some fun with it. Enjoy. @lasquadraweek2021

“Quite the team you have assembled, Mr Nero.”

Risotto, knelt down at a hot spring half naked, paused his actions- hand remaining in the warm water as he gazed ahead at the mossy stone before him. It was an enclosed area- a little private spot he’d only considered his own until you came invading it.

“Didn’t think I’d hear from you again- not after what had happened in Graizia.”

He pushed off of his knee, standing up straight and surveying where exactly you were. It was him that taught you how to cloak yourself in shadows to disappear from sight- to you, this was a case of student needing to outwit teacher. You were silent enough to fool most people but Risotto knew what to look for.

The moss under your feet was slippery as you crawled up one of the stones he was gazing at not long ago. He gave a low laugh as he searched his surroundings regardless.

“Should I take your silence as anger.”

You sat down on your haunches as you reached a high enough point on the rocks to confuse him. “Oh please, Graizia was tame in comparison to Crallutha.”

Risotto’s ears wanted to lead his gaze to where you were but you weren’t planning on playing this game too long. So you removed your coat- and the spell- from your shoulders.

“Ahh of course- how much was the witch’s bill for taking care of that nasty burn?”

You threw your balled up overcoat at him, reappearing just in time for your gazes to meet. “Too much for your little adventures to afford.”

He took hold of the neck of your coat to unfurl it. “Touchy.” He commented as he laid your coat on top of his and then shamelessly ridding himself of his trousers before slipping into the hot water with a heavy sigh. His head dipped under so he could wet the long silver strands and wipe them out of his face with a groan.

You and Risotto have known each other for a very long time- you both have vague memories of the fall of the kingdom you hail from and for a long time you returned to the same abandoned cabin after working odd jobs to get by until you both turned about 100- just out of juvenile for your species.

You went your separate ways after one of your plots worked too well and you became a diplomat for the kingdom you’d been refugees in. Didn’t quite seem like he ever forgave you after you altered away the tell-tale tear streaks of your species under your eyes for the sake of human relations. Not that it was permanent anyway.

He still sported them proudly of course- his ink black eyes and the black streaks over his face melding together quite well- in your mind it made him handsome (perhaps that was the remnants of your memories of the Old Kingdom) but to most he was a terrifying sight. Not that his excessive height helped either.

“Now either you’re here for revenge or you have information to sell.”

“Revenge against you?” You mused, laughing at the thought. “Just because I nipped that slit in your eyebrow a few months ago doesn’t mean I want to see you dead.”

“Just maimed.”

“Exactly.”

Your feet had carried you back down from the rocks and at the lip of the spring where the warm water was lapping gently at your toes. Eyes followed naturally toward the sky to bask in the bright beauty of the moon until you were abruptly pulled onto your ass in the water by a firm hand around your ankle.

“Nero!” You screeched as you propped yourself up- gesturing at all the leather he had now fully soaked. “Do you know how long this is going to take to dry?”

“You’ll dry as you ride.” He said so nonchalantly you could feel those streaks under your eyes reappear. You never were good at controlling your magic when you were angry.

“There you are.” He hummed contently. “I so tire of that ghastly mask you put on for the humans.” To emphasize your point his arms came to rest on a half submerged mossy stone.

“And what would you do with me this way? Soaking wet and bare of magic?”

“Well... much comes to mind.”

That was it. You stripped out of your soaked clothes, leaping after the bastard who had already sunk underneath the water’s surface and was making quick work of gliding through the water into the caverns you knew the mermaids once used to get around this arduous stretch of land.

He was quick- always had been. You supposed all of that muscle had to be built somewhere but you weren’t that far behind him- the inky black lines that lined his body and darkened at the tips of his fingers and feet were all you could focus on as the two of you kicked off the walls in rush to who knows where.

The slight burn in your lungs only fueled you to catch up to him even more and you had only thought his abrupt loss of speed was the end of his game until you saw fiery tones dance above the water.

Breaking the surface, you both gasped for air- one strong breath in followed by little gasps to even out your breathing.

“Determined, aren’t we?” He chuckled.

Not so reluctantly you latched onto his nearest arm and dunked his head under before using him to push off and find a ledge to sit on.

A part of you wanted to continue the banter but the exhaustion was starting to set into your bones- both from chasing him on land and in water.

Perhaps he was dissatisfied but your silence only beckoned him closer to lean his folded arms on the ledge you were seated on- his brow knit together in concern. “They weigh heavy on you. All those strings tied around your hands.”

You looked over at him, gaze locking with the reds of his eyes that held a type of softness you suppose only you could read. “Maybe.”

Around you the little cavern had only two torches alight- a trick you wondered if he had any hand in. You didn’t want to speak much on the subject- you were too far gone in your own games wit the humans to realize you could simply disappear from it. Your skin cooled slightly as you stared at the flames wrapped around the torches- cooled enough for the warmth of Risotto’s hand to make you flinch when he touched your thigh.

“The cold will settle into your bones.”

Whether he meant figuratively or literally you’d probably never know but you took him up on both.

He moved back enough for you to slide back into the water- feeling pleasantly enveloped by the feeling. Underneath you, you could feel your feet barely graze on some stones that Risotto stood on easily.

“Surely, my touch doesn’t repel you as much as much as you’d have me believe.”

It had been so painfully long since you let him this close, your arms finding their way around his offering shoulders. You let yourself tangle around him- the added heat off his skin lulling you to prop your chin onto his shoulder.

Risotto reciprocated with his big arms wrapping around your back, soothing the knots out with a flat palm rubbing up and down your spine.

Complicated was the cliché word that came to mind when you thought of Risotto. You’d helped him along many steps to slip away from any trouble his bounties and adventures brought him, you were also the source of all the information he could need about new political decrees or wars that might affect his plans but much like before you were separated- you were far too close to simply forget one another as your paths diverged.

“I’ve missed you.” You sigh into his neck, raking your nails over his back to see if you could still get a reaction out of him.

He groaned out your name as his whole body seemed to tense under your ministrations. It sounded foreign on his tongue but welcome nonetheless.

It didn’t take too long for him have your back pressed against stone and his teeth worrying into your neck hungrily.

“Stay with me.” He groaned, pressing you tighter to him. “Please. They’ll welcome you with open arms.”

Hearing him plead truly had your resolve weak but you couldn’t. You needed to have your heart on the pulse of information if you were to protect him- but would he need to be protected if you two weren’t separated?

He didn’t even need to argue you into contemplating it, the soft thrum of his body luring you to turn your head onto his shoulder and just say yes. But that’s not what you said.

“I can’t.”

The words stuck like sap onto your tongue.

“Three days then.”

“Three days what?”

“Three days you stay with us, surely you could manage that. After that, you’re free to do as you wish.”

He wasn’t lying- it would be easy enough to simply lie about a sudden illness or delay in travel plans. Perhaps you should see it as designated time off- wrapping yourself up in the warm embrace of an old lover.

“Fine.” You whisper against the lobe of his ear before kissing the side of his face.

Risotto on the other hand separated with you a little so he could hold your chin between his thumb and forefinger to give you a kiss so tender you could melt.

“It’s almost dawn.” He muttered against your lips after you separated, resting your forehead against his.

“How can you tell?”

He gestured to a small stained glass oval inlaid between the jagged edged of the cave’s wall. You must have missed it while it was still dark. “Best to head back then.”

You wish you were a person without regrets- that you didn’t ponder how things could have been different but you were and few mistakes felt as dire as when you resurfaced back at the spring near Risotto’s camp.

Hoping for a dignified entrance was out of the question as you resurfaced behind Risotto’s large form to be greeted with quiet talk and snickers from a team of men you’d only been acquainted with from afar.

Often cases modesty was a virtue but not when dealing with outcasts like them. So before Risotto could order them to turn around, you were moving towards the place where your coat lay on top of Risotto’s- gods they must have had a field day with that innuendo.

“I see we’ve never seen a naked body before.” You commented tiredly at the stares you could feel heating your neck.

“More like we haven’t seen two Khallini’s this close in proximity of one another. You’re a dying breed, you know.”

You disregard the comment somewhat as you pick up your coat- the one dry thing you still have to your name and sling it over your shoulders against the cold.

“Might also be the insinuation.” The long-haired brunette was the one to throw that comment- enough to lock gazes with him across the clearing.

“Is that jealousy, I hear?” You ask with a tilt of your head and the sneer you got in return was enough to satisfy you and earn a chuckle from the rest of the team.

Risotto was behind you not long after- throwing his shirt over his head. “We’ll meet up at the tavern in Cranad.”

Which of course was your queue to find your horse to reintroduce yourself to the bunch at the tavern.

But as you stood at your saddle to slip on an emergency pair of clothes you couldn’t help but think.

What did you get yourself into?

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #la squadra #jojo part 5 #fantasy AU #risotto nero x reader #risotto x reader #lasquadraweek2021

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barbika1508 · 5 years ago

Text

Perks of an open Pool (Octopus/SeaWitch!Yoongi x Human!Reader/ Smut)

Word Count: 9,4k

Genre: Fluff, Romance, PWP

Pairing: Octopus/SeaWitch!Yoongi x Human!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, Breeding Kink, Mating, Dom! Yoongi, Brief Dom!Y/N otherwise Sub!Y/N, Tentacle sex

Summary: It’s just your ordinary mated type of a couple, living together, loving each other and getting frisky as anyone does, with the exception of these two as a limb or two more might be involved.

Authors Note: It’s basically tentacle porn, simple as that! So, enjoy it and if you don’t there’s plenty other things to read! Anyways hope you’re having a good day :3

Why am I getting agitated? I was fine not even an hour ago, completely calm and collected. My fingers remain drumming mindlessly along the side of my laptop, as I keep staring at the beat and the waves it has created, listening to the same part of the song over, and over again. The repetition is irking me, the missing part just growing and adding to my nerves. And going down and through the 20 versions I’ve made of the beat, it’s not sitting right frustrating me by this point. This is supposed to be a simple pre-chorus to lead the song into the main part but why in Poseidon’s name nothing is working right?!?!?!?!

Beyond my own little world, I pick up on other sounds deducting movement. Noises of moving furniture and footsteps aren’t quiet anymore. The agitation from before in my stomach lessens as I glance at the clock, but the irritation remains as I continue glaring at the screen in front of me. Letting out a heated exhale I switch onto another track completely, knowing I have 2 things to tweak, but instead for some reason this feels like an entirely different song with a different meaning than it felt the hour before when I was satisfied with it. I just let my mood sour even more, today seemingly being against me creative wise.

My concentration is easy to break as something above me falters to the ground, my mate adding onto my frustrations as she’s taking her sweet time of doing whatever she’s doing instead of directly coming down to greet me, like it is the usual. Turning my head to the left, I’m still left amazed time to time at the concept of the house and her idea which she conceptualized.

This was after all her childhood home, but she bluntly went ahead and demolished half of it transforming the lower part of the entire house, which was built on rocks, into an open pool area of sorts. To humans, it’s a chill barbeque/ relaxing era with the pool being directly connected to the ocean, opening up to natural causes.

The pool stretches outwards from her relatively small house, but it has a shallow area where I am settled with a laptop and my gear all kept on dry land, meanwhile my lower body is submerged underneath the water, two of my limbs working lazily time to time, by bringing the water upwards to keep me wet. The tiled floor is smooth and comforting in a way beneath me. I know exactly where they stop and natural rocks begin to cover the sea ground.

Summers are of course always the best times to hang out in this area. But it has switched for me as well into loving it, which is an oddity. I am cold blooded through and through, I come from the debts of the ocean, where no human has even reached or even been to, where sunlight can’t reach anything. So, the contrast of everything was monumental, the biggest hurdle being the sun that hurt my eyes, the brightness almost blinding me at one point. But I’ve preserved becoming stronger than I once was, my whole mood and liking of summer changing into one of enjoyment. And it’s all because of her. In summers it’s easier for my beloved to spend more time with me in the water, and on land as it’s warm enough for her to sleep here, and stay and work and do whatever she wants to.

Even though I don’t look like it but I crave skin to skin contact with her, at all times if I can. Having her close, at and in arms reach means I can easily protect her from any harm, and bad. Nobody will ever harm her on my watch, that is a promise I’ve made to the gods, an oath to them and myself.

Upon my train of thoughts drifting I stumble upon an idea, fingers quick to act and move along, dotting down notes, which quickly develop the said idea long, from a mere image to creating a sort of a universe on its own. With only half my attention on what I’m doing I focus the other part of my brain on my surroundings.

I can hear my mates’ sweet tone, as she speaks to someone words pronounced sometimes clumsily but the giggles make it up for it. Frowning slightly, it takes me a moment or two to figure out that she is speaking over her phone. Good. I’m in no mood to have company or wait for her to be done being all polite and give them her attention which should be on me most of the time.

Besides she didn’t greet me this morning when she left for work, our everyday morning kiss being skipped. I need to get back at her for that. And yes, she will probably say she left me be because I love sleep, I mean who doesn’t but that isn’t a good enough excuse for me not to get a kiss.

I quickly examine how I’ve went on with the inputs into the music program, the newly created song filling my ears as I press play still working along. Some of my limbs come to life, playing around the water, hydrating my skin but also fooling around my mood obviously haven lightened up at the new discovery and creation thanks to my very own muse. I’m not entirely sure how much time passes on, as I get easily lost but I am aware when my mate does decide to finally descent down, greeting me. I manage a mere nod, still working ahead. I will admit that I am ignoring her on purpose, giving a bit of the silent treatment, upon her actions this morning. My kind and I as an individual can be very petty as humans can be too, but we can take it to extremes if we want to.

It isn’t until she is suddenly right next to me, her legs in the view of the corner of my eye. I slightly twitch as she bends down, knees buckling. Before I can jump in an attempt to grab her from falling, she’s right there her warm lips leaving a kiss on my cheeks, my skin tingling not only because of the warmth from them but also because of the innocent gesture. Turing to look at her in disbelief she has a bring smile on her face. There’s no irritation in sight on her, as I’ve predicted there would be.

‘’Hey there Mr. Grump.’’ She teases seemingly in a cheerful mood. She should be upset that I gave her back some of her own medicine, knowing very well how she dislikes silence between us.

‘’I’m not grumpy.’’ I immediately reply frowning as she starts to giggle instead. I take her in for the first time today. She has already changed, wearing a big white t-shirt that reaches till her mid-thighs while a black garment which is probably a bikini is visible through the thin material easily so. Hmm.

‘’Uh huh. I’ll play along with you. I’m the grumpy one, obviously.’’ She continues happily, still grinning her eyes seeming warm. She shifts on her bent position, sitting back properly while she swings her bent legs, and submerges them into the pool right next to me. Automatically my body consciously or subconsciously gravitates towards her.

‘’I take it, you had a good day at work?’’ I ask sparing a glance at my limbs as they are quick to raise up and eagerly wrap themselves around her ankles, and up her calves. She wiggles her toes, her muscles tensing and untensing briefly as she relaxes one hand finding one limb, as she starts to play with it gently the others eagerly following and raise up higher over her two legs.

‘’Very good day. We’ve got more funding, meaning the cleanup is continuing successfully and will go on steadily.’’ She’s quick to explain eyes on me, while I slide the headphones off completely to listen to her, my mood to create diming as she’s finally back.

‘’Hmm, I’ve noticed there has been more halibuts swimming around recently.’’ I note glancing at her seeing her eyes spark up instantly ‘’You should still consider cleaning the north west side first before moving onwards elsewhere, like I’ve suggested. Start by planting close at first, small things. you’re gonna see the fish are gonna grow it all on their own into a healthy ecosystem…if nobody touches anything around there of course.’’

She claps gently along nodding her head, in excitement and is quick to assure me that she has told her boss about my plan. She always gets this spark in her eyes whenever she talks about her job, being a Marine Biologist, these kinds of stuff just entrance her. Her words do start to falter, as I save up my progress along the way. The silence we fall into after she’s done explaining their plan too briefly, has me turning towards her noticing the content but small smile gracing her lips, as she stares down into the water absent mindedly.

‘’Are you okay baby?’’ I ask halting everything and turn towards her, letting my right arm rest over her knee as I move closer taking her hand into my own eagerly. Her smile widens, free hand reaching up to cup my cheek which she starts caressing with her thumb. She is way bubblier than this, whenever she’s talking about future plans on her days in general actually. This calm demander is worrisome.

‘’I’m perfect my love.’’ She replies leaning closer ‘’Just perfect.’’ Her words do make my heart flutter even more so when she leans in to kiss me on the lips. It’s still a bizarre thing, this human interaction that is considered to be so intimate. Something simple as kissing, lips pressing against one another. It works though, there is this spark that kissing ignites even in my own cold blood. I quickly return my own affections towards her with shameless eagerness, as I’ve been missing her for more than half of the day.

She ends up giggling into the kiss once I swipe my tongue over her lower lip, and teasingly start to tug at her legs, and hands. The kiss gets broken thanks to me smiling as well, her laughter being one of my favorite sounds in the world.

‘’Are you done for now?’’ she asks leaning on her elbows her body positioned in an awkward manner but she doesn’t move away or show discomfort.

‘’Yeah, the project I was working on wasn’t good either way.’’ I point out lessening my hold on her. I turn to my laptop quickly closing everything off whilst she sits up properly stretching out her fingers and arms. I push everything technology wise away, as it’s all propped on a self-built pillow and wooden plank which she made for me a long time ago. It’s all prevention from things getting wet, and despite her meticulous waterproofing and calculation of risks I still make sure not to ruin anything or take chances.

‘’Liar, I bet it’s amazing.’’ She mumbles. I glance over just in time as she tugs the white fabric over her head, which leaves her in the two thin pieces of clothing which are very offensive. I don’t understand why she isn’t bare all the time. I prefer her that way and it’s just easier. Life is easier without those restrains and barriers. My eyes roam quickly over the expanse of her skin, noting how her skin has been sun kissed today meaning she has spent her time out in the open. Before I can drink her up, she’s sliding into the pool, submerging until her chest a quiet hiss leaving her lips smile never leaving her lips. I push myself backwards silently sighing in relief as I let myself sink into the water, my skin feeling rejuvenated. I keep 3 limbs on her, raising them to hold her around her waist, while I sink further into the water and backwards encouraging her silently to follow keeping my head above at all times, eyes not leaving her for a second.

‘’It needs work.’’ I reply watching as she shivers for a while the contrast of temperatures too sudden. She looks unbothered stepping forward and follows along, moving her arms around warming herself up automatically. Turning towards her properly I catch onto her hands, her giggles filling the air as I tug her into me immediately wrapping myself around her protectively and teasingly as she can’t move a muscle in any way, she wants to my limbs making sure to hold her still. I automatically grin upon hearing giggles, as she lets me move her around trusting me whole heartedly even as I almost submerge her, but manage to hold her above the water level ‘’This is what you get for calling me a liar human.’’ I mock jokingly and push us away swimming towards the open ocean, bringing her along with me.

The colder and warmer currents, have her shuddering but she simply musses at me ‘’I’ll repeat myself; You are such a liar Yoongi-yah!!!’’ She exclaims grinning her hands finding their way to rest over my chest, as I move her to partially straddle me, the tiles below us being replaced by smoothened out rock. Stopping mid-way across the pool I stop us, taking in the cooler water currents that brush over my back and arm, whilst I hold her where the warmer current is floating around ‘’One of these days I’m going to make you admit that!’’ I only chuckle at her behavior simply admiring her and press a kiss to her nose quickly ‘’Yah!’’ the exclamation has me laughing, and half submerging underneath which leaves me unbothered ‘’Lets move on okay, pabo!!! Where are you even taking us?’’

And there it is her immediate curiosity, as she looks ahead at the vast ocean eyes falling back to glance along the rocks that same spark I mentioned before just burning up.

Briefly let’s mention the pool again…it might seem to the naked eye that it is in fact opened to the ocean and that it is welcoming anything in. Technically speaking it kind of is, but there’s a specially built underwater gate that prevents animals and other intruders to just float in into my home. Otherwise the benefits besides that ones are that it lets in fresh water and takes out the so to speak old one. Pushing us into motion in no time we reach the gates, which I prop myself onto holding her easily as her legs wrap themselves around my body, giggling as I brush the tip of a limp just bellow her exposed thigh to the edge of the undergarment ‘’I didn’t mean it like that.’’ her hand is quick to brush the tentacle away and to give me a stern look which she fails at because of her smile.

‘’Hmmm what a pity.’’ I reply faking disappointment, while she wraps her arms around me lovingly and despite her statement and action, she still leans in to kiss me. I sigh into the kiss contently, living the rocking motion of the waves that rock us up and down gently, while her touch is everything.

But were we are settled currently the sun is beating down on us, and it’s making itself annoyingly present by warming my skin up, even though I’m submerged more than she is. I do recall the north side which is just in front of me, being perfectly shaded the sun being blocked by the house perfectly so across the rocks on that side of the house.

Knowing when she’s getting low on oxygen, I break away brushing a strand of a lose few hairs from her face ‘’Are you in a mood to explore, my love?’’ I ask her curiously knowing her well enough to predict what her next answer is going to be. There’s a reason why I stopped here.

‘’Not really…’’ she starts hesitantly, glancing towards the ocean again. I’m reminded constantly everyday how much I love her and why exactly I do, and this is one of the moments as I take her profile in. Her eyes are focused straight ahead, expression portraying a longing for something greater, something she wants and has wanted her whole life. She doesn’t know it yet herself what it is, but the ocean is calling for her I know that for certain ‘’…I’ll need to refill the oxygen tanks first, we can explore another time.’’ She turns to me, with a smile. I can just feel how the tension melts from her muscles, and note in her body how she relaxes completely. But thanks to that I can see the tiredness resurfacing knowing she gives it her all at her work and for others.

My heart aches because I don’t want her to be tired, or worried and stressed at all. If it was up to me, I’d happily provide for us, find treasures frequently to afford only the best things in life, wanting to give her everything she wants and wishes for. But I’m being completely blocked off by her human stubbornness, her desire to work to a certain point infuriating but to another understanding.

‘’Whatever you want, my everything.’’ I reply leaning in to kiss once more. It starts out slow, lazy even as I brace her against the gate and let my hands submerge from her back lower to take a hold of her under her thighs. I love her legs, not only because they fascinate me, but because of how they feel under my arms and hands. Her thighs are an absolute delight to grab and hold onto. Don’t even get me started on her ass.

I smirk as I feel her tongue prod at my lip. She’s isn’t being forceful but she is playing a game plainly teasing me. I let her struggle on purpose, letting my hands roam over her thighs, fingers touching everywhere I can, while her own hands are rooming my back, then my neck, until she is cupping my jaws. I almost purr when she let her right-hand slide under my ear and into my hairline, nails scratching against my skull. My limbs practically vibrate, and on their own they wrap themselves more and more around her legs, for sure leaving imprint in their wake, but she told me countless times she doesn’t mind.

Sensing her growing frustration, I decide to let her have her fun letting her have some control, her tongue quick and eager to intertwine with my own. Her hand repeats the motion she did briefly ago, nails skillfully scratching me perfectly, causing me to gasp involuntarily as I tighten my hold onto her trying to tug her even closer which isn’t really possible anymore as I’m already crowding the very air she’s breathing. I want to touch every inch of her, my blood starting to feel as if it’s boiling. I want her. I want to eat her all up.

Just as I swipe my tongue across the roof of her mouth she is pulling away. Reopening my eyes, I notice how flustered she has gotten, breathing deepened as she half pants staring at me with darker eyes. I smile proudly seeing how I affect her ‘’Hmm I’ve missed you.’’ I find myself admitting running my fingers sideways and around to grab a hold of her glorious ass, the flesh smooth and oh so perfect in my hands.

She snorts leaning in to nuzzle her nose against mine, the ministration always endearing even though I’m still missing the point of it ‘’Me or my ass?’’

I muse glancing downwards, but end up looking straight up at her exclamation and how quickly she tugs her arms backwards to cross them, which only brings her breast to the front more ‘’Both.’’ I reply honestly which has her gasping. Now she is acting dramatic.

‘’Pfff sure. I see how it is!!!’’ She rolls her eyes looking away from me still holding her arms crossed, legs still wrapped around me, body slightly turned away. She’s adorable.

I squeeze her ass instead as an initial reply ‘’Babe, your ass is glorious how could I not miss it!!’’ she turns to stare at me in bewilderment, but the blush that’s getting more intense over her features is a dead giveaway that she doesn’t mind my crude words. My words aren’t even crude we’ve both said nastier things. Foreplays can be very fun.

‘’You just want me for my bodyyy.’’ Comes a reply which has her bursting into joyous laugher. It’s an inside joke between us from a TV show we’ve watched a long time ago. I only stare at her in adoration, as she throws her head back, hair cascading down touching the water even though she has it tied up into a mess ponytail. My entire focus is on her face, admiring in fascination at the way the side of her eyes circle slightly, the way she is showing her blunt teeth, nose slightly and adorably so scrunched. I’m fucking rejoicing as her laughter graces my ears, her voice shooting in general, but it’s her laughter and her giggles that melt my ice-cold slow beating heart any time.

‘’It’s a little more than that love.’’ I say smirking as she ends up chuckling at the end eyes finally landing on me once more ‘’I’m here also for the food, and music equipment.’’ I end up whispering. She bursts into another fit of laughter pushing me away playfully at first but ends up wrapping her arms around me, and to my surprise I’m getting an onslaught of kisses peppered all over my face.

‘’Help somebody I am being attacked by this puny human!!!’’ I fake shout simply raising my voice, which gets her to bite onto my ear the cheeky human indeed that she is. I gasp staring at her in bewilderment when she leans back to look at me, and shows me her tongue briefly.

‘’You are really asking for it.’’ I state as she scrunches up her nose and then puts on this innocent expression eyes darting upwards as if she has done nothing wrong ever in her life. I let my limbs crawl upwards over her lower half, as I’m holding her around her waist hands still on her ass to hold her steady.

‘’I am innocent, I have zero idea what you are on about.’’ She goes on further making me giggle, a few ideas popping in my mind with what I want to do to her.

‘’The only innocent thing here are the fish.’’ I reply to which she simply snorts glancing around as if fishes are swimming near us ‘’You on the other hand…’’ I end up sighing heavily, as I’m coming up with a lot of ideas, I know I won’t be able to fulfil all at once. Her stamina isn’t like my own, even though since we’ve been together the first time, she’s gotten to endure a lot more than what she was used to.

‘’Uh huh go on.’’ she says teasingly both hands ghosting over my shoulders, fingers finding the vertebrae of my spine. It has my shuddering for a moment, limbs relaxing slightly around her but wrapping themselves higher up one peeking over her shoulder only now I notice. I can feel the edge of her bikini bottoms, and I subtly try to move them to the side which so far is working as my hands are simply holding onto her flesh. The key to this method is going slow.

‘’Are you going to work tomorrow?’’ I ask keeping on a cool expression not wanting to give anything away, as my excitement is rising. If she says no or yes.

‘’Depends. I could not go.’’ She sings teasingly bringing her fingers to the nape of my hairline. I’m trying very hard not to just purr our loud, it feels that fucking good when she does it.

‘’That wasn’t a yes or no, my little human.’’ I go on giving her a more serious look, as I reach up to cares her cheek. She visibly gulps, eyes fixating onto my own.

‘’I’ll take the day off.’’ she replies with a more careful tone which has me smiling widely leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead.

‘’Good girl.’’ I praise her, feeling how her heartbeat is beating quicker. Her skin is still warm against my own ‘’Now be good for me, and climb up.’’ as I speak I move us further out, towards where a boulder is settled, having been rolled and cemented into an empty sloth perfectly and is the best resting place for her on sunny days, and on rainy it’s my napping rock. But in heated moments like these its perfect for something else.

‘’Yoongi-ah, should we move inside first…’’ she starts glancing upwards and back towards the beach and other houses nervously while I’m already maneuvering her upwards which has her yelping briefly voice getting cut off once her perky ass lands on dry land.

‘’I don’t understand where this shyness comes from on some days I really don’t.’’ I speak out loud more to myself, all the while I grab the two strings that are holding the bottom of her bikini together and easily undo them. The top follows expertly as two of my tentacles snatch the garment away.

‘’Yoongi!!!!!!!!!!!!’’ she half shouts hands grabbing onto my wrists, which does make me glance up at her in question, her hold lessening but remaining on me.

‘’Are you intentionally pushing my buttons today baby girl?’’ I ask letting two of my limbs let go of her calves to get a hold of her wrists.

‘’I’m not! It’s just, the beach is crowded and…’’ she starts to ramble. I take the chance of her brief distraction and worried glances backwards and around, to tug away her hands, easily pinning them next to her body.

‘’If you are so worried about others, then I suggest you keep quiet to not bring attention. I can help you out with that if you’d like too.’’ I grin in the end, and let one tentacle raise up over her still clothed core, and upwards her tummy, following every curve along the way. Regretfully I pass her breasts and let the tip start ghosting over her neck as she snaps to look at me her jaw locked tight. I keep heavy eye contact as she glares at me and tries to struggle, attempting to break free which is of course completely useless.

‘’This is not funny.’’ She goes on looking like she’s mad. You’d think she’s pissed off. But ohhh I know what’s going on in that pretty brilliant head of hers. This is turning her on. I can smell her besides the sea salt in the air, her pungent heavenly smell. Its why my limbs are already tugging the flimsy useless piece of fabric away and chugging it away which leaves her lower part bare to my eyes only.

‘’Oh baby, nobody is laughing.’’ I comment smirking ‘’Now, be a good girl and stay silent.’’

While two of my limbs hold onto her hands, I wrap two more around her thighs lifting and bending her legs, holding them wide open, meanwhile I eagerly lean down, poking my tongue out as I lick a long stripe from down upwards over her delicious core. Her breath hitches loudly, as I eagerly lick over my lips, then just dive in for more at first just blatantly licking her juices.

I can hear how she’s trying to keep quiet, but is failing miserably as small but noticeably loud mewls are leaving from her. Getting more serious and of course eager, I use my left hand to spread her lower lips revealing her folds properly. Perfect color of pink and a luring warmth and smells has me entranced. Happily, I dive down sucking directly onto the little numb that was so foreign the first time we’ve done this, but now I know exactly which flicker of my tongue can send her off. Hence why I start doing everything, to build her orgasm up quickly.

It has her reacting flawlessly and just as I’ve predicted in my mind. Her noises stat to raise up in volume, body bending backwards as she lies onto her back. Letting go of her clit, I teasingly lick over her lips giving her a second and then I’m dipping my tongue finally into her hole knowing it turns her on for some reason. A load moan tears itself out from her, which has me grinning smugly as I raise my head upon an urgent call of my name ‘’Yoongi!’’

‘’Yes, my love?’’ I ask ready to argue in return but what I’m met with is a desperate expression, cheeks completely flushed as she opens her mouth, sticking her tongue out as if to show me it.

‘’Please.’’ She suddenly begs. The way she’s rendered, the visuals are just stopping my brain from functioning normally for a moment. My blood has speed up, and my nerves are starting to tingle more and more, as I myself get turned on and at attention, body buzzing.

‘’Please what? Use your words, you are my good girl after all aren’t you?’’ I tease her happily smiling wider at her eager nodding.

‘’I’m your good girl. Please, I want…’’ she pauses but doesn’t remove her eyes from my own ‘’I want you in my mouth.’’ She almost whispers. I don’t push her on, and accept it as good enough.

‘’You are a very good girl today, my sweet, sweet human.’’ I coo, tilting my head ‘’There you go, gorgeous.’’ I watch as the tentacle that I left at her neck, raises slowly. She raises her head looking absolutely greedy to have it in her mouth. Teasingly slow I hover it near her mouth, while my fingers absently play with her folds tracing her lower lips. The initial touch has her flinching briefly in surprise eyes darting down to meet my own, as the pads of my fingers brush over her clit. So easily distracted. While her eyes and attention are focused on my ministration I watch giddily almost as the tentacle slips down, over her lower lip and into her mouth filling it. The warmth sends a brief shiver to run over me, but otherwise the feeling of her throat closing in and the choked sound that arouses, has my hunger raising.

‘’That’s it.’’ I coo, pulling the tentacle out letting her regain her breath just to push it back in, her throat this time accepting it properly. Her glossy eyes remain on me, obediently so as I fill her mouth, and stretch out her throat more and more, keeping in mind that she needs to breathe now and then, slowing my ministration just for her. Setting up a rhythm, I smile hungrily as I look down at the redness that’s starting to replace the pinkiness. Closing my eyes, my tongue finds her heat, tongue eagerly once more scooping the gathered wetness, as I taste the tanginess of her juices.

At a particularly well aimed and manoeuvred tongue swipe, she mewls and chokes on the tentacle in her mouth, the sensation of her throat closing in around tightly, has me shuddering harder than before. Reopening my eyes, I watch my limb retreat her chest rising and falling as she catches her breath, eyes ready to spill with tears at this point. A trail of saliva is still connected with the top and from her lips. She is absolutely fucking gorgeous.

‘’Yoo-n-gi…’’ she manages voice slightly rough. I haven’t pulled my mouth of off her, so instead I simply start sucking, and licking, building up a combo while with my right hand, I slowly prod at her entrance, my fingers which have dried now getting coated in her flowing juices. More sounds spill from her parted lips, breathless and whiny ones, as I let the tentacle slip inside her mouth once more muffling those glorious sounds. I don’t force it in this time, letting her suck onto it, her tongue quick to dart around it. It tells me that she isn’t distracted enough, even though her eyes are shut tight eyebrows furrowed, her fingers and toes curled up.

I start to push my middle finger into her tight and wet heat slowly loving the way she clenches up, the sensation on its own has a rather violent but invisible to the naked eye shudder run down my human spine, which then spreads and vibrates briefly all over my limbs that freeze for a second, but then just tighten their hold onto her. My precious human. Everything has me boiling on the inside, the visual, the sensations, her smell, her noises. It has me restless, has me wide awake and feeling so alive. Every piece of me wants her.

Knowing her body, instead of teasing her further or going slow by opening her up gradually, I let my pointing finger slide in next, a tiny bit forcefully as I do meet some resistance. Her body tenses, as she half sits up her yelp getting muffled.

‘’Shhhh…’’ I coo smiling letting two of my biggest tentacles reach around her to hold her up in the half sitting position she has put herself into ‘’Relax my love, just relax for me.’’ I encourage her, watching the sweet delicious tears run down her cheeks as our eyes meet. They aren’t there because she is hurt, but because she is overwhelmed with all these sensations.

I tug my fingers out and push them back in while maintaining eye contact, and slowly raising myself up to be closer to her ‘’That’s it, my good girl, doing what I tell her to do, hmmm.’’ I hum in the end, loving the obedient and almost innocent look she gives me. She is starting to get really desperate by the on flow of whines, and thighs which start to tremble now and then.

As I pull my limb back from her mouth, it falls open droll dripping from her slightly bruised lip. Gathering strength not to hurt her, I push my body upwards to reach her mouth, eagerly licking over her lips distracting her as she chases my tongue with her own. Now half propped up I readjust my position on the edge of the rock, and haver her legs spread but around me, using my left arm to hold her up, while with my right I can finally start to finger her properly and the way she wants me to, curling them up and scissoring them once I slow down my thrusts.

She cries into our kiss, tensing up once more, as I aim for her g-sport which has her crying out, incoherent words spilling. I grin wildly and lean my forehead against hers holding her still and tight against me, absolutely loving how she has clenched around my two digits.

‘’Use your words my little human.’’ With that I slow down, the action itself has her immediately nodding eyes meting my own in clear distress.

‘’P-please Y-Yoongi, please I wanna…I wanna cum, please Yoongi, my love, please, please, please don’t stop.’’ She cries with more tears spilling down her cheeks as she starts to tremble, her high near but fading.

‘’Then cum for me, gorgeous.’’ I whisper letting go of her wrists so she wraps her arms around me, body tensing and straightening up, as I resume to finger her towards and through her high, maintaining it and intensifying it. Instead of shouting out, I feel her blunt teeth sink where my shoulder meets my neck, while her nails dig and drag into my back leaving red marks over my skin. I groan at the burn, the tingling in my spine and vibration from my limbs an indictor how I’m boding.

Not wanting to be cruel this time, I start to slow down, coming to a stop slowly her body mimicking my touches as she eases down. Pulling my fingers out regretfully so to be honest, her body suddenly all but collapses onto me. I start to hum a song I’ve learned a century ago, and just hold her close to me, loving how she radiates heat and projects it onto me warming my cold self-up.

We are left in a comfortable silence, even when I lower us down into the water after licking her juices from my fingers. A quiet hiss leaves her lips, but she doesn’t protest or makes an attempt to move, as I push us away and lower us until only our shoulders and collarbones are sticking above the water. I let my limbs caress her body, and trace her skin gently as the ocean current would. No surprise is that even though I’m trying my best to let her gather herself I am getting very impatient, with my own needs.

So, I start by portraying it, by pressing open mouthed kisses over her collarbones, enjoying also as I submerge my face under water. I can hear her chuckle, as I leave marks in my wake, but upon her more awakened state I start to raise up, still marking her up happily and let my hands cup her ass again, pinkies tracing the juncture of her legs towards her folds again.

‘’Every time I think humanly so may I point out…’’ she starts tone unhurried and not so husky anymore. I let two of my limbs raise over her hips, up her ribs in the meantime ‘’…I think; “It can’t get better than this.” But yet you always leave me…’’

‘’Fucked right out of your mind?’’ I finish her sentence smirking as I still remain marking the side of her neck. Regretfully so I will have to heal the marks, as humans are ridiculously so timid creatures at certain things. She chuckles at my statement, gasping at first which turns into a moan, as the two tentacles have wrapped themselves around her breasts, the tips now playing with her perky nipples.

I glance downwards watching them raise up and down, noticing how her skin breaks into goose bumps.

‘’Basically.’’ She breathes out looking down at me. I smirk to myself rolling my shoulders, as she leans in this time hands reaching up to cup my face, but she doesn’t kiss me. She presses a kiss to my cheek and leans closer, lips touching over my ear ‘’Fuck me, Yoongi-ah.’’ she whispers.

Another spark goes through my system, which has me vibrating practically, and changes my soft look into a hard one as I stare at her as she has moved back, and is now biting onto her lower lip. It’s a rule that she isn’t allowed to do that. Only I can bite her lick. (And no this is nothing like 50 shades)

‘’You need to rest my love, you…’’ she leans in to kiss me, stopping my train of thoughts all together. It’s not only me that has a huge effect on her, she can also completely change me, my thoughts, my mood, my everything basically. A mere human. She truly is something else.

Her kiss becomes demanding quickly, body leaning forward shoulders squared up as she takes complete control over the kiss. I’m surprised once she starts to move her hips. Tries to as she is entirely leaning onto me having no proper support around us. So, I help her slightly, by pushing her back against the rock again, one of her hand momentarily leaving me, so she can brace herself back against it. I can feel her smiling into the kiss, breaking it but she isn’t letting go, her right hand which has been supporting the back of my head, has her fingers curling and tugging onto my hair making me groan quietly at the tug and pull, meanwhile her other hand is quick to find its place over my chest, lowering down over my right nipple. Her touch is brief as she continues to move her hands lower.

‘’I should return the favour.’’ She says sensually her hand still lowering, ignoring the small tentacle that eagerly wraps itself from her wrist to her elbow just caressing her skin and holding onto her.

‘’We don’t have time for that baby.’’ I reply trying to stay calm. Even though she is my mate, and we’ve been together for what feels like an entire lifetime it’s still not completely easy to reveal all f myself to her. I still get nervous, when we’re intimate. But I’ve gotten good at hiding my feelings and nerves away.

‘’Alright then.’’ she sighs sounding disappointed but licks her lips teasingly and as if quietly saying ‘Guess you’ll be missing out’. I shudder as her fingers trace the front tentacles, not really intending to play with them. She does have to lower herself down to reach what she wants, but stops mid-way, face slightly lower than mine is as she readjusts herself and her hold on me ‘’Yoongi.’’ She whispers staring straight at me hands tightening their hold ‘’I want you to fuck me.’’ she states completely calm hand suddenly raising up cupping my cheek the coolness and wetness from the water slightly calming me down ‘’Do you want to fuck me, my love???’’ I simply blink staring at her trying to calm myself down as I nod at her question ‘’I’ll keep my hands here alright?’’ she goes on wrapping both arms around my neck, and intertwines her own fingers, while she wraps her legs around my body her knees tucked where my human hips would be ‘’Please, fuck me.’’ she whispers not doing anything ‘’I’m so wet and ready for you, my mate.’’

Even though I tried to hide my nerves, she saw right through me. My mate. I press her against the wall gently letting my limbs do the work as to anchor us against it, so we aren’t moving too much thanks to the reappearance of the waves that is making the pool unsteady enough so that with a small mistake something bad might happen.

Not saying anything yet I reach with my human hand up and take her right into my own, kissing the top part of it, before lowering both hands down underwater. Her expression does change into a surprised one at the beginning, mouth opening as to say something but she simply closes it, her gorgeous eyes focused onto my own. Even though we aren’t physically connected right now, we are one.

I watch as colour returns to her cheek, turning it into a more intense pink-ish colour. I can feel her body warming up, blood rushing through her veins, same as her heart spiking in excitement. A few shudders one after another just shoot down my spine, and it is a human trait I’ve learned, but fuck the sensation thanks to it, has me experiencing something no one of her own kind would, on the male side. Readjusting my grip, I cup her hand instead over the top part. I lean into her but this time, I rest my forehead in the crock of her neck, staring down watching our hands through the water. Finally, I move our hands forward stopping before my body. A short gasp leaves her lips as I just hover our hands close, meanwhile the pit in my stomach start to boil in excitement. My cock isn’t necessarily like my limbs, I can’t really control it per say. It has humanoid traits but it doesn’t act like a tentacle it’s hard to explain it. Letting go of her hand, I reach in to grab a hold of it feeling how much it has filled up and grown. I tug it forward to the front, past the cosy and safe confine of my other limbs. Some sort of goose bumps raise over my skin as well, as I feel very exposed and vulnerable, even more so when the tip of her fingers touches the head.

A gasp involuntarily leaves my parted lips, but she’s quick to press a reassuring kiss to my cheek, her right hand that’s been resting on my shoulder, kind of gripping it in anticipation or excitement, loosens up and reaches up to my hairline again nails scraping against my skull which has me relaxing slightly.

‘’May I?’’ she asks calmly, her breath fanning warmly over the side of my neck. I barely manage a nod but she understands it perfectly. Instead of grabbing onto my dick as I thought she would, her fingers touch my wrist instead at first. They gently caress it, and lower themselves down. I automatically tense up once, the tips of her fingers are touching just over the base of my cock where I’m holding it. It’s such a contrast her touch against my own and it’s not only temperature wise.

I start biting onto my lower lip, eyes closed and just feel, how she gently traces my dick as if she’s doing it the first time (She isn’t just let me clarify, but it is rare and special whenever I let her touch me like this). Her hand finally wraps itself around me, in the middle but pulls up towards the head, which is very sensitive and has me hissing, my dick practically twitching and following her warmth on its own.

‘’Hmmm Yoongi-ah.’’ She moans softly, fingers brushing the tip again which has me letting out a faint sob ‘’Shhh it’s alright my love…’’ her hand circles around my cock again, but lowers down towards my hand again ‘’Will you fuck me my love? Will you fill me up so that I’m leaking for days?? I want you to fuck me, so I won’t be able to walk tomorrow, I want to feel you in my womb, want you to fill it all up…’’ I’m surprised at the change in her, the submissiveness from before replaced by this strong and dominant presence she has put on.

And her words do have a tremendous effect on me. They have me buzzing, wanting her more, want me to fulfil every wish she has. Again silent, I grab onto her wrist and pull our hands upwards, at the same time leaning backwards noticing that the sky is setting, with the sun sinking over the horizon. But that doesn’t matter. When I look at her, her hair has dried up, cheeks not so pink anymore.

‘’Yoon…’’ before she can finish or properly start her sentence, I grab her by her throat and squeeze while at the same time, I grab onto my cock again and easily manoeuvre her how I like, by spreading her legs wide open whilst at the same time, I let another tentacle to raise up and slide into her mouth, letting go of her neck not wanting to actually choke for real. The two tentacles from before that have just been caressing her breasts now tighten as well, and another two joins to wrap themselves around her nipples. Two more make sure her arms remain under my control.

‘’Fill you all up huh?’’ I start with a deep tone readjusting half of my limbs and drag her backwards towards the shallower part of the pool and away from any unwanted eyes. The only lights that are always turned on are the pool ones ‘’You don’t want to walk tomorrow huh little human? Want me to fill you up so that you’ll be leaking, your womb filled up for days?’’ she eagerly nods at my word’s eyes glassing over as she reverts back into her sub state.

‘’I don’t think you can take it.’’ I challenge her, eyebrows furrowing as she turns to glare at me. I simply let the tentacle shove itself further into her throat, feeling it start to close in. But she still glares at me defiantly, like she wants to say something. With my right hand, I simply let it run over her exposed pussy. I let my middle and pointing finger trace lower to her asshole which has her body tightening up ‘’Your little human body, can’t take me whole darling.’’ She starts to properly choke pretty tears glittering as they fall down from her eyes. Pulling the tentacle out she gasp for breath, heaving. Meanwhile I finally find the perfect position and sit on the smooth ground. Getting a hold of her hips I straighten her up, arms locked behind her back tightly.

I grin widely as she looks at me ‘’I’ll split you wide open, is that what you wish for??’’ I ask casually while she stares at me still in defiance before something in her brain clicks and the desperation slips back in.

‘’Please.’’ Her voice is gone, but I understand the word she mouths.

I don’t even give her a heads up, as I raise her above me, bend her knees and plant them on the floor. I let some of my limbs attach themselves on her, as I take a hold of my cock and start to force it into her. She gasps and mewls her body’s natural reaction at first is to run away from the intrusion. We’ve been over this so many times. It’s all natural, as is the size of my cock which is above average, and I’ve put that into human terms, her quote directly.

My mouth falls open, as the head of my dick enters her, and eagerly wants to chase after the warmth. And yet despite the onslaught of pleasure that’s overwhelming me in waves, I hold myself back just to stare at the way her eyes roll back, and feel how her thighs and forearms tense up meaning her fingers and toes are already curling up. Her head falls backwards revealing her half marked up neck. I mimic a human way of mating which is; a thrust. It has me entering more halfway to be precise but she suddenly shouts out body jerking and then going limp only her hips briefly shaking until they stop. I smirk staring as her head falls forward, to which I cup her cheek and take a look at her. The moisture on her skin is from sweat, the sight bringing a chuckle to rise from my throat, as she continues to breathe deep eyelids half closed not leaving my own eyes.

I readjust myself slightly, and grab a hold of the bottom of my cock, to help and guide it properly into her. The waves of pleasure are still going through me, my spine tingling more and more demandingly. But I ignore my own pleasure at the moment in favour of making sure she’s alright. I set her hands free and take her weight off her legs, settling her so that she’s simply straddling me arms resting between us limply.

‘’Fucked out 2 times, another point for me.’’ I state as I sit up and start marking her left side eagerly loving the still unusual taste of her skin.

‘’It’s not…’’ she starts tiredly ‘’It’s not a com…’’

‘’Not a competition yeah, yeah.’’ I chuckle in the end, licking the shell of her ear before I look at her, at her heavy eyelids that are slowly rising and falling as my cock continues to pulse inside her ‘’Do you still wish to continue my love??’’ cupping her face I look at her with such adoration, because she is my everything. Truly she is the reason I’m living and alive. And I’d give anything for her to be happy an get whatever her heart desires.

She lets out a groan of what sounds of discomfort, and closes her eyes briefly. Looking at me a smile stretches across her lips ‘’So full. M just…’’ She trails off looking intoxicated making me grin and nuzzle my nose against her a trait that she likes to do to me, as it is considered childish.

‘’Hmm yeah? Are you feeling good baby?’’ I prod on, waiting for her to get comfortable enough to continue.

‘’So-o goooddddd.’’she practically purrs her fingers that are resting on my lower abdomen, curl up as she attempts to rolls her hips. And that is a sign to continue. I simply hum in agreement, and move her body up slightly so there’s enough room to start fucking her ‘’Ahhhh..’’ she gasps head falling forward again, but this time her eyes remain open as she stares down. I know for a fact that she’s trying to see through the water as much as see can to see us connected. I find myself getting breathless the more times I tug out and re-enter her, the tightness the heath, the feel of her velvety walls all around me, are starting to feel overwhelming. Giving in, I let her be as I lie back getting submerged all besides my face while I let myself get overwhelmed by everything.

It’s easy to succumb to pleasure, especially given how much she is giving me; because she is giving me literally everything. Everything starts to feel too much, but not enough. It’s never enough. I can hear her moans, how they roll of her tongue the sounds matching to those of an angel if you ask me. And through hooded eyes I watch as she moves her hand, placing it over her own stomach. When she presses against it, I can feel her hand. She tears her eyes away and up to meet my own, a goofy smile adoring her lips suddenly.

‘’I-I-I love y-y-you…’’ she manages out, those simple 3 words warming my cold heart every time she says them.

I push myself upwards bringing my own hand over hers ‘’I l-love y-you too, Y/N.’’

Her thighs start to tremble again, hands reaching for something to grip onto, which again end being two of my tentacles that eagerly wrap themselves over her forearms. Her strength isn’t enough to hurt me at all no matter how strongly she squeezes. Meanwhile my hand remains pressed plat over her stomach, and I just remain half in awe as I feel myself move in her, reaching and brushing up against her womb. By this point she has gone quiet, breathless, and speechless from how overwhelming it must be. Glancing up I watch as and can feel as her orgasm hits her and takes completely over, her mind and body. As I feel her tummy, images of children running, and swimming some that look like her other like me, running around fills me up with joy and excitement. But the sight of her so undone and vulnerable that alone…it’s all because of me. The only person the only being I’ll ever be so open with, the only one I care about, my heart, my body, my soul all belong to her. Everything.

With those train of thoughts and the actually imagine of her with a big belly, it has me spiralling over as I finally let myself get washed away with the tide.

I still am aware on what’s going on around us, I hold her close to me feel her hand wrap around my back, hold me in return. I can fee her lips press kisses to my neck, my cheek, I can feel them moving and faintly can hear her sweet tone. She’s singing. Huh. A siren. I always tease her that she has sirens blood in her, but she always denies it. So, if not a siren she is an angel like I’ve mentioned.

‘’Yoongi-ah.’’ She whispers her tone clear. I spread my fingers testing out how my limbs work, my other limbs which are submerged in the water as most of my body has sunk down work normally still tingling all over. I reopen my eyes seeing her smiling widely. I don’t even remember closing my eyes let alone lying back down again, my mind having shut down for a while. She’s leaning above me, comfortably lying over my front and is running the pads of her fingers over my face, with this far-away look again in her eyes. But once they met mine its like she has found herself again ‘’I love you.’’ She whispers again, eyes crinkling as she smiles looking genuinely happy.

I find myself smiling easily in return at how ridiculous my human is, but look at her and remove my hand from her belly to cup her cheeks that are still warm ‘’I love you more, my sweet human.’’

#bts smut #min yoongi x reader #bts yoongi #bts min yoongi #yoongi x you #min yoongi x you #tentacle smut #suga x reader #bts mermaid au

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darkh0wl · 4 years ago

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Where is your body? || Kyle, Mina, Morgan, and Nell (ft. Bex)

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @drowningisinevitable, @mor-beck-more-problems, @nelllraiser, @darkh0wl, @inbextween SUMMARY: They say waking up is the hardest part. Kyle faces the consequences of his actions. Bex faces the reality that is the supernatural world. CONTENT: PTSD mentions, sibling death mention, parental death mention

Instead of staying around to fret over Bex while Nell Vural did… whatever it was that Nell Vural did (because apparently she could heal people from debilitating injuries), Mina opted to wait in the basement with Morgan and Kyle the werewolf who seemed to enjoy maiming young girls in back alleys. She didn’t find him all that impressive, personally, nothing like the three-legged wolf, nothing like the creatures that she’d watched her dad face down. He’d faded back to nothing more than a boy, an injured boy, a boy that Mina could put a knife or a crossbow bolt through his throat and let bleed out on the basement floor. She sat cross-legged near him, a silver knife resting in her lap, and she tried not to shrink against Morgan’s judgement. “It’s just in case he decides to wolf out again,” she muttered. She wasn’t actually going to stab him. Probably. She kept looking to the stairs, to the knife, to the wolf, to Morgan, to the stairs. “Do you think-- I mean, Nell would tell us if-- He didn’t-- She’s okay, right? Right?” Because Mina was a little worried. She was worried that she hadn’t stitched Bex up right, and she was worried that they hadn’t arrived in time, and she was worried that there would be nothing Nell could do. She was worried. She was so worried.

“He’s not going to wolf out again,” Morgan said, taking a sip of four-shot espresso to tame the urge to roll her eyes at the girl. “He can barely do anything. And if he did, what’s he gonna do, bite me back to life?” She rotated on her toes and started pacing again. She’d spent a few hours in bed with Deirdre, but with Bex and Nell down the hall and Mina and Kyle below, she couldn’t keep still no matter what she tried. So, basement pacing it was. “Nell would tell us. If she thought she wasn’t up to it, she’d say, and we’d be dragging some other spellcaster over here to help. Bex is like family to her. And nothing matters more to Nell Vural than her family.” Another gulp of espresso. The more she took into her mouth, the longer she held it burning on her tongue, the more she got to taste. Morgan swallowed. “So until we hear otherwise, Bex is fine and is going to make a full recovery. She might be walking around the house by later tonight. And Teen Wolf over there isn’t a threat until we get a good reason out of him. Bex wants him to have a chance, so he gets one. And if it turns out he’s done something incredibly stupid…” She would what, exactly? Morgan slowed her pace until she stopped near the far wall and pressed her back against it. “We’ll find some wolves to turn him over to. Or a bus to throw him on.”

“They’re still dangerous even when injured,” Mina said, but her heart wasn’t particularly in it. She’d had time to kill the wolf if she’d really put her mind to it. She’d been too busy pacing and watching and not sleeping, and she almost asked Morgan if she could have some of her coffee, but that wouldn’t do anything more than make her even more jittery, so she just stayed seated, fingers drumming against her knees. “Right, okay, right.” And of course Nell Vural was a spellcaster. Mina was always so surprised when she was proven wrong, even though it kept happening. In her defense, though, Nell sounded like a hunter. At least, more than most people that Mina talked to. She didn’t expect spellcasters to go out and hunt down bounties. She narrowed her eyes. “Saying that he’s not a threat is both reckless and untrue, Morgan. Even if she’s fine, he still hurt her, and she almost--” Mina wrung her hands. “I don’t understand. He almost killed her.” Mina looked over to the sleeping wolf, just an unintimidating creature. “What would a bunch of other werewolves do? Slap him on the back? Tell him congratulations?” That wasn’t fair. She knew that wasn’t fair. There were good werewolves. That boy in the mushroom ring had just been a little naive, and Ari was good. Mina didn’t understand why she was so upset about this. It was irrational.

Nell remembered teaching Bex how to harness the emotions that threatened to overtake her as she worked on the younger witch, trying to remind herself how important it was to make sure she heeded her own words at a time like this as she closed Bex’s wounds. But the emotions were like a restless sea inside her gut, anger mixed with a sickening worry that reminded her far too much of another time she’d desperately tried to heal a part of her family, her hands and powers useless when there hadn’t even been a head to be spoken for back then. She hadn’t wanted this for Bex. White Crest had a nasty way of sinking its claws into anything bright, anything good that dared to peek its head above the ground. The sleeping coma had been bad enough, sending Bex into a spiral or worry and fear. But this was different, this was something that could be touched, and touch Bex in return. That much was obvious by the now scabbed over claw marks running down Bex’s body. Nearly a year from Bea’s death, and Nell still couldn’t preemptively protect those she cared most for. “I’m sorry,” she managed to breathe between gritted teeth, trying not to lose herself in the images of the decapitated sister parading itself through her mind’s eye, sometimes taking it upon itself to replace the body with Bex’s frame. Forcing herself to stand, she took a moment to stretch out her legs, stiff from disuse after kneeling next to Bex for the long healing session. She hadn’t been able to protect Bex from her attacker before, but she could certainly make the effort to do it now.

The walk to where Kyle was being kept wasn’t lengthy, and along it she let the sorrow of her student’s injuries shift into anger, almost bleeding seamlessly into one another as she drew one of the silver knives she’d brought along. Her gaze was hard once more as she entered the room with Morgan and Mina, and the still unconscious wolf. “He’s not awake, yet?” she confirmed, taking a few steps towards the slumbering young man.

Gently twitching in his sleep, not unlike a sleeping dog, Kyle lay on the floor of the basement and dreamed. It was a bad dream that he couldn’t seem to wake up from. He watched in third person as he attacked Bex. He watched himself kill her right there beside the bar. He watched her die in Morgan’s arms. It wasn’t unlike dreams he used to have after his first shift. No, not dreams. Nightmares. In his nightmare, Kyle could hear voices off in the distance talking about how dangerous he was. He could hear them discussing if Bex was okay or not. He roused slightly, realizing that he’d heard those voices before; Morgan and Mina. But if they were talking, where was… Bex.

Almost immediately following Nell’s question, Kyle started trying to sit up. He was only half awake as he struggled to push himself into an upright position. He patted the ground, searching, and mumbled to himself, “Gotta— Bex, is she— is she—,” before he sank back down fully, panting. All that movement hadn’t been a wise move, because now his body felt awful. He groaned and curled in on himself, hugging his side.

“Gotta find— I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean—.” That wasn’t true, though, was it? At one point, Kyle had every intention of killing Bex. He would never lay a hand on her, or any one else, while human. But that didn’t matter, because he wasn’t human and he had. As he saw it, Bex was dead. The last thing he could remember was seeing Bex limp in Morgan’s arms, and the scent of her blood filling the car. Kyle had killed someone, and whatever happened to him now was well deserved. He closed his eyes again, breathing growing shaky. He wasn’t a wolf, he was a monster.

Morgan eyed Nell when she came in, trying to divine Bex’s condition from her face alone. But the girl just looked tired and shaken. “Is Bex…?” She asked quietly. She was breathing, she reminded herself. The last time she’d seen her, she was breathing, and she was fine, and this wasn’t like anything either of them had suffered. It wasn’t. It wasn’t.

Before Nell could answer, Kyle stirred and knocked himself around the floor. Heaving a deep breath, Morgan took the medkit out from the corner and the water bottle that was supposed to have been for Mina and knelt in front of him. “Slow down,” she said. “The only thing you have to do right now is sit up and sit still. All your dressings are coming undone now that you’re not a wild fucking animal.” That came out harsher than she’d thought it would. Morgan winced and tried to check her temper so she could at least try to give him the kind of care she’d want someone to give to Ari if something had gone this wrong for her. At least he looked guilty enough to know how reckless he’d been. She passed him the water bottle. “Drink this.” Then, as she started peeling away the loose bandages, she said, “It’s Kyle, right? You wouldn’t happen to remember what you and Bex were doing out at night on Amity Row, would you, Kyle? She almost bled out to death in that alley. It would really help if we knew what happened.”

Seeing Nell walk in forced Mina to her feet, the knife still on the floor beside her. It was fine, she figured. Truthfully, she wouldn’t need it to put her claws in Kyle’s throat and drag him out to the pool if she needed to do something, just hold him under and watch him struggle like the other wolf had, except she wouldn’t let this one go. She didn’t think she’d let this one go. Mina looked between Morgan and Nell, wondering if she even needed to say anything or if she should just wait. The look on Nell’s face didn’t scream that something was horribly, horribly wrong, so that had to count for something, right? That had to count for something, and that something had to mean that Bex was fine, and she was going to live, and this was going to be okay, and she didn’t need to worry about it, but she was probably going to keep worrying about it anyway, just for posterity’s sake, just in case.

And then Kyle was waking up, and then Morgan was talking to him in her soothing Morgan way, and then Mina was rolling her eyes because of course. Of course Morgan was going to… Morgan the situation. Mina looked at the boy with cold eyes, even if she felt something akin to sympathy for him. He genuinely seemed sorry. Sorry just wasn’t good enough, though. Not for this. “What she’s asking is if you remember why the hell you were in a back alley and somehow ended up carving into a human girl like she was a bloody piece of meat. Because that’s pretty important.”

“She’s alright,” Nell breathed in a way that spoke both of the relief she felt, and the weight she was simultaneously lifting from the shoulders of Morgan and Mina. The witch was nothing even remotely close to a healer apart from her ability to scab over injuries and stop blood loss, but she’s seen enough fatal wounds to be able to tell that Bex would make it. “Or as alright as she can be.” The witch’s jaw tightened to match her eyes as Morgan took a tone that was much gentler than Nell would have thought possible in a time such as this, and her anger simmered healthily below the tautness of her skin, her hand tightening around the knife in her hand as she spun it once. The light caught the blade in a flash as she stepped closer to Kyle, finding herself more in agreement with Mina’s words over Morgan’s. “It’s Kyle,” she confirmed for the older woman, knowing his face well from seeing it amongst the halls of her highschool. Kyle the kid who had spent far too much of his time flipping Yu-Gi-Oh cards in those very same halls, and Kyle the wolf who had seen fit to rip the witch’s student and friend to ribbons. “But yeah I’m pretty fucking curious about why you decided to nearly murder Bex.” Another step closer and Nell was taking a second knife from a hiding place somewhere within the folds of her shirt, letting it playfully join the other as she twirled them between her fingers. “So do you usually try and kill people in alleyways? You’re lucky you didn’t bite her.” Nell couldn’t remember how many times she’d carefully looked over Bex, combing for a bite that wasn’t there. “Otherwise you’d probably already be dead.”

Kyle gratefully accepted the water from Morgan, taking big gulps that left him coughing. Once he regained himself, he closed his eyes and breathed for a moment. Bex was alive. She was going to live. The weight that that announcement had taken off his shoulders was unbelievable. And yet, it removed absolutely none of the guilt that coiled in Kyle’s chest and settled deep in the pit of his stomach. Maybe he hadn’t killed Bex this time. But he had come damn close to it.

Now he was being questioned from three sides. What had they been doing? Kyle had been at work and then… “I work at the Bloody Stake,” he said. His voice was smaller than he anticipated. “I was at work. I— we— Bex and I have been in each other’s heads? I don’t know, I guess Bex is like— like a witch? Or something? You probably knew that already.” He looked to Nell for confirmation. He hadn’t completely known Nell was a spellcaster either. He figured if she had healed Bex, Nell was probably in on Bex’s abilities, then. He tried not to look at the knives she was holding. If Nell decided to do something with the knives, he wouldn’t even blame her, but the thought of what it would feel like being stabbed made his head spin.

“I didn’t. We— it’s been hard. It’s not easy when your head is always...full.” Kyle turned his gaze directly to Mina, locking eyes with her. “Bex is always thinking.” He grimaced as he pushed himself up into a seated position and pulled the blanket around himself tighter. Fuck, he was naked in a stranger’s basement, being interrogated for a probable attempted murder. Cool.

“She was panicking over something. A school assignment I think? I— it was a lot. I’m not usually, uh, out of control? It— I didn’t mean to— I— we were both panicking and I-I just needed to get out of the bar and I didn’t expect Bex to show up. That was so stupid, but I don’t even think she knew, you know? I don’t think she thought I was serious.” Kyle shook his head, losing his words for a moment. He couldn’t have told Bex he was a werewolf. But what if he had? Would she have still come for him? Would he be waking up in the forest somewhere? Or would he have simply killed someone else? He shook his head again, brows pulling together. He had to get that thought out of his head. Now wasn’t the time.

“I thought I had more control than that. It’s never happened— not like this.” He paused briefly to take a deep breath. It had happened before, but never because of a goddamn shared mind link. If they hadn’t been in each other’s heads, if they hadn’t been panicking, maybe it would’ve been different! His jaw clenched and Kyle closed his eyes. “I’ve been a wolf for five years and I’ve been learning it all on my own. I thought I was doing okay. I didn’t want this to happen.”

Morgan gave out a long sigh and sat back on her knees. Now not only could she not blame Kyle for everything, but she was mad at both of them. The antibiotic cream was still in her hand. She should get on that, and get some ice for all those bruises, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to lift her arms and keep helping, keep working like everything was fine in the wake of this supid, ridiculous, fucking mess. When she spoke again, her voice was low and sharp “You’re telling me--that you and Bex accidentally’d your way into a mental connection, and you knew she had spellcasting magic, and you didn’t think it was relevant to tell her you’re a werewolf? A lone, unguided, and unsupported werewolf!” Kyle needed more medical attention. From the looks of his bruising, he wasn’t going to be able to do much on his own. She unclenched her fists and let everything fall, flexed her fingers, and tried to find the willpower to pick them up again. “You didn’t think that might be useful in making informed decisions, like running after your ass into Amity Row? You didn’t think knowing something as vulnerable as her power might entitle her to knowing you sometimes turn into an animal with lethal capacities? Who could cut her off from her power forever and give her a whole new set of problems she didn’t ask for with one bite! Not once during however long this mind meld bullshit has been going on?” Her voice rose steadily with each question until she was yelling loud enough to hear herself bouncing off the walls.

Morgan grimaced and covered her mouth. She couldn’t be this kind of person. Not right now. Not ever. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying her hardest to strangle her anger into submission. “I’m sorry,” she said thickly. “I appreciate your situation. But I need you to realize just how many levels of reckless the two of you were being. You, especially. You’re lucky you’re not both dead.” She didn’t yell, but her last words still carried a bite. At least she could move her hands calmly again and slap the rest of the antibiotic stuff on his injuries.

There wasn’t really enough time for Mina to be grateful to Nell before she was listening to Kyle explain the situation. Which… was more perplexing than it was anything else. What did he mean that they’d been in each other’s heads? How did that happen? When did that happen? What did that mean? Why was he looking at her like that? She narrowed her eyes and looked away. “No, you’re right,” she told Morgan. “Five years? How the hell have you-- How did you find out about her spellcasting if she didn’t find out about your lycanthropy? Wouldn’t you think that would be a fair exchange of information?” Though, really, could Mina judge him for not giving up all his secrets? It’s not like she’d given up hers. She was getting a headache. She crossed her arms, almost wishing she’d picked up her knife but also glad she’d refrained. This boy was a child, even if he claimed to have five years of experience. He was scared and a child. “Clearly, you thought wrong.”

Nell didn’t bother granting Kyle the confirmation he sought from her, jaw hardened into a tight not as she stubbornly refused to give him anything so soon after the violence he’s caused. “You should have told us,” the witch hissed harshly, still having little empathy for the werewolf in front of her while Bex was in pieces. “You thought you had more control than that?” Again her knives spun dangerously in a movement not unlike an angry cat flicking its tail too and fro, ready to pounce. “And why should I believe you when you say it hasn’t happened before? We’re not stupid. We know what it's like for young wolves who were bitten and not born.” To think that Kyle hadn’t made any similar mistakes, especially with a lack of any sort of contact or instruction by other werewolves was...highly unusual for a species as volatile for a wolf. “I want you to tell me the truth,” she began, moving closer to Kyle to crouch beside him, and holding one of her silver blades close enough to the skin of his neck that it became uncomfortably toasty. “Is this a problem or not?” If it was...she knew what the correct course to take was with wolves that caused more harm than good.

“I didn’t know!” Kyle yelled, louder than he had expected. He couldn’t stop clenching and unclenching his jaw and swallowing thickly. He was willing himself not to cry right now. He wasn’t the center of attention--not really. This was about Bex and what he had done to her. He didn’t want, or need their sympathy. “I didn’t know,” he repeated, softer this time. “We were mind melding, or whatever, and--and Bex said she was going to ask Nell to help. I didn’t actually know Bex was a spellcaster. Bex told me magic isn’t real. I--I didn’t know what to believe. Am I going crazy?” Breathe, Kyle. He took a deep shaky breath, steadying himself.

“I should’ve told her outright. I thought--Well, she was in my head and I didn’t exactly hide it. I’m not ashamed of being a wolf. I’m--it means a lot to me. I thought she would just figure it out, but she didn’t believe me. She didn’t really think I was serious, I guess, until--until--” Kyle closed his eyes when he could feel them welling with tears. It was a losing battle, but he just couldn’t cry in front of these women. They had every right to want to kill him, but recognizing that as fact did nothing to quell the desperate urge to shift again. His body didn’t have the strength or the energy to do so, but the anxiety Kyle felt wouldn’t take the option off the table.

When he opened his eyes again, it was because he could feel something hot against his neck. He didn’t have to look to know it was one of the knives Nell had been twirling. He tensed and tried not to move an inch, lest the blade touch his skin. It was silver. He didn’t have to ask. He knew Nell would’ve come prepared. “I--I’ve been doing my best. I’ve been--been trying to stay safe. I’ve only ever hurt two people, Bex included. The other time, it was--it was--” Kyle’s chest heaved with a silent sob he couldn’t contain, and a tear finally spilled over his cheek.

“My first full moon. I didn’t even know I was a wolf. My parents, they’re human. They didn’t know. How would they? They were going through a divorce and--and I didn’t know what was happening until it was happening.” He closed his eyes again and sniffled. He could almost laugh. Who would’ve thought that he was going to end up spilling out his traumas at knifepoint? He didn’t laugh. His voice came quieter, shakier, when he spoke again. “My mom got hurt. I didn’t kill her. But she got hurt. And I’ve been focusing...so. hard. on not doing that again. I don’t--the stress, and the--the noise, and the not sleeping. My--my grip slipped. Or maybe it wasn’t there to begin with. Maybe I’m just stupid and--and--and lucky.” Kyle stared at a point on the wall, not meeting any of their eyes. The tears fell freely, dripping off his jaw onto the blade.

“If that’s what you needed from me to justify it, go ahead and--”

There was a weight on Bex’s chest. She saw teeth, claws. Anger. Panic. It swelled in her head. Was it her? Was it his? Did they share it? The wolf lunged. Bex screamed. Her back hit the ground--

Bex sat upright in bed so fast her vision blotted. It was only a few seconds until she felt the burning in her chest and she cried out, looking down. Bandages had been placed on her chest, a lot of them. She put her head in her hands. She couldn’t remember everything that had happened. Her head felt so empty. Empty. Kyle! Eyes shot open and she swiveled her head to look around. Bedroom. Her bedroom, she was in her bedroom at Morgan’s. At the end of her bed was a large black cat with flaming eyes. Taki. Why was Taki here? Was Nell here? Why was Nell here? The pain in her chest made her sputter again and she pressed her hands against it, as if begging the pain to go away.

She remembered running. Kyle was panicking. Something about a change. A wolf. A werewolf. The memories flooded back into her head and she leapt up from the bed, clawing around for a shirt. Kyle. She had to find Kyle. What happened to him? Was he okay? Was he still a wolf? Had he hurt someone? Had he killed someone? Her legs gave out underneath her. Her back hurt, her head hurt. Taki made a disgruntled noise and came over to her. “Where…” she croaked, but it wasn’t like he could answer. So she stopped. She remembered something else.

Morgan, in her living room. Mina, coming down the stairs. The alleyway. It was so dark, she felt so cold. Bex shivered. She had begged them to help him. They had to have helped him. She pushed herself back up to her feet, shaking as she pulled on a shirt. Wincing with each small movement that tugged on the scabbed over cuts on her chest. How had they scabbed so fast? She reached back around her head to feel the throbbing. Stitches. It must’ve been bad. They were going to be so angry. What if they hurt Kyle? What if he hadn’t made it out alive?

Bex stumbled to the stairs and wrapped her arms around the railing as she lowered herself down each step painstakingly. Taki was behind her making angry, shrill meows, as if to tell her no. But she had to know, she had to see. She had to tell them it wasn’t Kyle’s fault.

She made it to the first floor and sank to her knees. Where were they? Voices. Down the hall. The basement. Bex took a moment to catch her breath before she pulled herself up once more and made her way to the basement stairs. The voices were getting clearer now, but her ears were rushing with blood. She couldn’t tell any of them apart. Taki ran down first and snuck into the room, meowing loudly. Finally, Bex made it there, and she stumbled into the doorway. Her eyes narrowed in on the figure on the floor, slumped, crying, covered in a blanket. “Kyle!” she exclaimed, voice raw, and took off for the boy. Overjoyed he was alive. He was alive. He was alive.

Something stopped her before she even got three steps into the room. Someone. Bex squinted through her blurry vision. Brunette hair, soft eyes. Except...they looked sharp. Worried. Angry. Bex drew her face in confusion, sinking to the floor with Mina. “Why are-- what’s going on?”

“I appreciate the rationale, Kyle, but your passive ‘oh well I didn’t not tell her, I just didn’t actually tell her’ bullshit still got Bex under your claws,” Morgan said, holding her voice steady through clenched teeth. “And yes, she was absurdly stupid to not to explain her baby magic did this, but that doesn’t absolve you of your choices and what they did to someone who is supposed to be your friend.” Nell and Mina also had plenty to say, and she was able to crack an ice pack to some of Kyle’s bruises with the rest of her held in tension. She did not want this anger, did not want to be the person it made her into. She prayed for the earth to take it from her as she finished up with the salve and the bandaids on the smaller scrapes. By the time she had unfurled new bandages, she had enough wherewithal to cover Nell’s blade with her fist.

“That is not the solution,” she said carefully. “Not today.”

Another breath. With everything she could, she tried to surrender her rage through her grip and down to the ground. Her voice was softer, but still tense when she spoke again. “I’m sorry about your mother, Kyle. And you’re not stupid, you’re just making reckless, selfish, short-sighted choices and---”

A wave of very angry Taki wails cut her off. Morgan let go and turned, Nell put away her knife, and the door opened, showing Bex, bruised and drained and just barely, amazingly alive. “Bex, what are you doing here? You shouldn’t be out of bed, you need--” Morgan’s voice tapered off as she gaped at her with open relief. She forgot about Kyle completely until the bandage roll tumped to the floor again. Right. Time to hurry up. “Hold still, I’m almost done,” she grumbled, pinning him in place with one hand.

Actually, Mina would argue that this boy was stupid. Stupid as well as reckless and selfish and short-sighted. But she couldn’t help but pity him just a bit. This was why she never made a hunter of any kind. She was kind of a sucker when the sob stories came out. She was still beyond furious, and a part of her thought that they were letting this fool off a bit too easy, and an even bigger part of her might enjoy sitting back and watching the Nell approach as opposed to the Morgan one, but she didn’t have anything to say.

Mina didn’t understand why the cat had burst into the room so loudly until Bex followed after. She stopped the younger girl from moving too far, hands wrapped gently around Bex’s arms. “Hey, he’s fine. He’s okay. You need to sit down.” She moved them both to sit down. “Morgan’s tending to him. We’re all just talking.” It was even a rather productive talk. No one had been stabbed, and everyone was just in various states of sadness and anger. Really, Mina was sure this was how the most productive interrogations-- conversations went. She checked Bex over, relief and worry fighting each other. She glanced at Nell. “Should she be up right now?”

The moment Bex was on the move, Nell knew it, feeling the information reverberate across her familiar bond with Taki. As the younger witch neared the door, Nell withdrew her knife. She’d shot Morgan a look trimmed with her natural desire to fight against anyone who tried to sway her from a choice she was seemingly making. But it had also been meant as a wordless message between the two of them, one that said the true intent to kill wasn’t on Nell’s mind...yet. Her knife had mostly been meant as an enforcer to begin with, as a means of coercing anything Kyle might be hiding out into the open. Apparently it had worked with the admission of his mother, and for the first time since she’d arrived Nell felt a sprig of pity trying to worm it’s way through her anger. Unfortunately she wasn’t interested in feeling all that much empathy at the moment when Bex had been attacked, but it didn’t matter when Taki burst into the room, angrily meowing his alarm that Bex had arrived.

Following Mina’s lead, Nell abandoned Kyle where he lay- having little interest in him now that she had what knowledge she wanted, and when it was quite obvious he didn’t pose any immediate threat. “She should not be up.” In the span of a few moments Nell’s tone had shifted to the other side of the spectrum, her voice lightening from a vaguely tortuous interrogation to a forceful concern. “You lost a lot of blood, Bex. You need to sit down or you could pass out. How are you feeling? What do you remember?”

The sight of Bex alive was enough to silence Kyle for a moment. She looked bad. Well, she looked good for having been attacked by a werewolf, but she still looked bad. “Bex,” he mumbled, barely above a whisper. It was a relief to see her alive, but the guilt that washed over him threatened to swallow him whole. That didn’t happen, and Kyle dumbly stared at Bex, tears still falling.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, a little louder now. “I didn’t mean for this—I didn’t want—I’m so sorry.” Bex didn’t need to forgive him; she shouldn’t forgive him. If she took the knife from Nell and stabbed him, Kyle would see that as getting off too easy.

He looked down at the hand that held him in place, trying to ignore the pain of the bandaging Morgan was doing. She was stronger than anticipated, so Kyle didn’t act on his urge to run to Bex’s side and hug her. Not that he should act on that urge anyway; some part of Kyle had already decided that he was going to leave as soon as he could. The brutal reminder of what he’d done to his own mother just cemented the idea further in his head. He needed to get out of here. It wasn’t for his own safety, but the safety of everyone in the house. They were right. He didn’t have as good a grip as he had thought and that made him dangerous. As soon as Bex was asleep, as soon as no one else was looking, Kyle had to go.

“No, no,” Bex said, already getting weary again. The world was turning dark and her head lolled for a moment until someone said her name and she sat up straight. Winced in pain, grabbing her chest as she doubled over. Everyone was telling her what to do again. They didn’t understand. This was her fault. She braced a hand against the floor, the other clinging to Mina. “You have to know, it was me,” she sputtered out. She looked across the room to Kyle, tried her best to meet his eyes, even as her world began to fade. Color seeping from the walls, draining from her face. Breathing laboured. The journey downstairs had taken nearly everything out of her but she needed to say it, even as she remembered sharp eyes and sharper claws, and a snarl. Anger. Intent to kill.

“I’m sorry,” she said to Kyle, her voice ragged. Her hand tightened around Mina’s arm. “I’m sorry. It was me. I panicked and I m-made you change and I thought I-- I thought I could stop it. Stop you. I’m sorry. Please don’t-- please d-don’t be sorry. It’s not your f-fault.” She looked to Morgan, to Nell, to Mina. “It’s not his fault.” She could feel sweat beading on her forehead. She was so tired. Her eyes fought to stay open as her head lolled against Mina. “Please don’t...hurt him...he didn’t...do anything…” She tried to give him one last look, but she knew it fell short. The world was consuming her again. She reached out for him, but he was too far away. She couldn’t reach him anymore.

She wished she could still hear him in her head. Maybe then she could reassure him.

“Oh, trust me, we are definitely talking about how responsible you are for this,” Morgan grumbled at the girl, taping down the last of Kyle’s bandages as she did. She pressed him down in place, muttering, “Stay put. I’ll finish taking care of you later.”

Then she was on her feet, rushing to Bex. “You need rest first, you need--” But whatever energy Bex had was already drained from her body. Morgan sighed and gathered her into arms as if she were no more than a basket of laundry. “I’d like to get her back to bed now, but I can’t leave Kyle alone if the two of you are going to keep twirling your knives at him,” she sighed, bundling Bex closer to her. “I don’t think he can make it up two flights of stairs, much less maim anyone else. He’s sorry and he’s not a threat and even if he was, I could throw him through a wall before he did anything. And Bex was clear about treating him with kindness. So, are we ready to go?”

“I wasn’t twirling a knife at him,” Mina muttered. The truth. She’d never twirled it. He hadn’t even been awake when it was in her hands. But that wasn’t important, now. She gave Nell a look, one that she hoped said, no for now but yes if necessary. She told herself that this wasn’t just about Bex, that she couldn’t suffer a dangerous werewolf to live if that was what Kyle turned out to be. Yet… there was still a werewolf out there that she’d been pitted up against twice that kind of disputed that as a fact. The thought of her dad lying in his own blood flashed in her head, and then he was gone, and it was Bex, and Mina felt the hand still on her arm, and she swallowed, tightly. She told herself it wasn’t just because of Bex. She was lying to herself. At least those lies didn’t hurt as bad. She looked at Kyle, still upset but not seething with it anymore. She wouldn’t try to kill him again, not now, at least. She moved Bex’s hand from her arm and squeezed it before she stood up. “Stay,” she told Kyle, no room for argument in her voice. If Bex wanted him to stay, fine. He’d stay and heal and then provide better answers. He didn’t particularly matter to Mina anymore. “I’m ready.”

“I already showed you that I got what I wanted for now,” Nell commented for whoever it was that apparently needed consolation on the matter of whether or not Kyle would make it through the next hour without finding her knife stuck between his ribs. “And if I’d wanted to kill him I already would have. I said that too.” Her foul mood at having found Bex bleeding out didn’t make for much patience when it came to her words at the moment, especially when she felt as if she were being warned off in a situation she was familiar with. Despite her short patience, it was obvious that there had been a lapse of judgment in Bex’s dash to Kyle, and Nell made a mental note to go over werewolves in more detail whenever their regular lessons began again. Maybe she could ask Kaden to speak to Bex about some of the finer points as well. After all Nell hadn’t known about loup garous until he’d told the witch of them after her stressful night under the moon with Adam, and they’d waited to see if they’d turn into what was currently sitting in Morgan's basement.

Nell flicked her gaze towards her familiar, and the Ovinikk got the hint without any verbal indication needed as Taki took up position next to Kyle, as if he were a prison guard escorting a convict to their next destination. Sensing his witch’s frustration, he took it upon himself to let a little burp of flames split through his lips, trying his best to make the small demonstration of his fire breath look as innocent as possible. Then Nell was drawing close to Bex as well, laying a hand against the other witch as she transferred some more energy into the girl, trying to give her the strength to at least make it to her bed. “We’ll get you to rest, and then we can talk about everything later.”

Preparing to ascend the stairs, Nell remembered the conversation she’d had with Morgan no more than a few days ago, centered around Bex and the lessons she’d have to learn the hard way when it came to the supernatural. It seemed one had already come to pass in the form of a werewolf mauling, but Nell couldn’t help the twinge of responsibility settling into her gut, thinking about how she should have acted faster on dissipating the mind-meld, how she might have tried to reach out to someone more practiced in mental magic if she’d managed to find a witch that would actually talk to her instead of spitting in disgust and cursing her away. She should have told Bex more about werewolves to begin with— should have shown Bex at least one spell she could have used to come to her defense. Instead they’d been left amongst the rubble of the first safehouse to fall in Bex’s world of diving into her new world of magic and discovery. “Let’s just get you to bed.”

Before Bex had even fully collapsed again, Kyle had convinced himself that she was dying, right here, before his eyes. What’s worse, she was blaming herself for a situation that was undeniably Kyle’s fault. His plans for escape seemed to be slipping away as he was told to stay put. Even more so when they put the infernal cat on guard duty. He bit his tongue to keep from making any snide comments about the cat, but that didn’t stop the reflexive growl that bubbled up from his chest. Kyle debated if now would be an appropriate time to request clothes, but Bex’s funeral procession was already headed up the stairs.

He had so much left that he wanted to say. He wanted to thank Morgan for defending him as much as she did. He wanted to apologize to them all for nearly killing their friend. He wanted to defend himself further by explaining the situation fully, though he still blamed himself entirely. He wanted to tell the damned cat to fuck off. Most of all, he wanted to apologize to Bex; if Bex yelled at him, if she never wanted to see him again, that was better than what he deserved. It wasn’t like they’d been friends before meeting in the library. But he’d been in her head, and he’d heard her just a few minutes ago. She wouldn’t yell at him. Kyle let his head drop back against the floor and he closed his eyes with a sigh. Maybe he should message Alcher or Ari. Maybe he should run into the woods and never look back. Maybe he should call his mom. He curled up, turning his back to the cat. All that could wait. Right now, he needed some sleep.

Bex wanted to stay awake for just a little longer. She really did. But Morgan’s arms, despite their chill, were very comfortable. Her grip was tight, and it felt safe. There weren’t claws in this moment, there wasn’t pain. She settled against her chest with weary eyes and looked at Mina next to her. Then Nell, coming hurriedly over. All their voices so concerned. But no one was concerned for Kyle. Bex was. She turned her head enough to try and see him again. He was slumped in the corner, curled up in his blanket on the floor. Her eyes welled up with tears again. She’d never wanted this for him. He had been so annoying when they first met. They’d never gotten along, not even for a minute. Screaming at each other through their thoughts. Blasting stupid music, thinking mean thoughts-- and it was all her fault. Because she didn’t know how to control herself, her magic. She turned back to bury her face in Morgan’s shoulder, shaking with quiet sobs. “I’m sorry,” she muttered into her shirt. “I’m sorry.” She doubted it would ever be enough. “Please be...please don’t be m-mad at him,” she breathed into Morgan. “P-please. He’s just scared. He’s s-scared, too.” She knew because of his thoughts, because they’d been inside each other’s minds for so long. It felt empty now, without him there. She couldn’t reach out and tell him sorry or ask if he was okay, or wonder what type of Yu-Gi-Oh cards he was looking at today. She’d said sorry for making him change, for making this happen, but she’d never said sorry for stealing his mind away from him. She wasn’t sure she could ever apologize enough for that.

Her body grew too exhausted to think too much anymore. She was limp in Morgan’s arms, her eyes barely open. She knew they were moving. Upstairs. Kyle wasn’t with them. It was a solemn trail of bodies. There was nothing left she could do, and so she closed her eyes, and let sleep take care, and hoped that in her dreams, she wouldn’t see claws again. That maybe she wouldn’t see a friend staring at her with death in his eyes.

#wickedswriting #chatzy #ch: where is your body?#p: mina #p: morgan #p: nell #p: bex

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norman891 · 3 years ago

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@sleightlyoffhand

Hook noticed Smee trying to look busy and stay out of danger at the same time. He snapped his fingers loud enough for the bosun to hear, and Smee came huffing up the stairs.

“Aye Cap’n?” he asked, a bit winded.

“I want you to find Mr. Starkey and tell him that I said to give you Mr. Haigh’s weapons, and if he gives you any argument, reemphasize that you’re there on my orders, and he does not want me to have to come find him personally. Understood?” Hook ordered. “And be mindful you’re not seen.” Hook reiterated.

“And what shall I do with Haigh’s weapons, sir?” Smee asked, causing Hook to rub his own temples.

“Take them to Mr. Haigh, you fool!” Hook hissed.

“Aye Cap’n” Smee gave a half-hearted salute and headed below as quickly as he could. A few moments later, he reappeared, headed over to Joe Haigh and handed off the small bundle, then scurried out of sight.

Not that any of his weapons would do Haigh much good unless they were boarded. It was good to have his cutlass and knives back, but Haigh possessed no pistol nor rifle, so he stayed with the chase gun crew, ready to help reload.

From high in the crow’s nest, Edward watched through his own personal spyglass, which was much smaller and more utilitarian than the watchman’s or Hook’s, but it served its purpose. He signaled the canoes’ distance to Hook by hand signals. Seven hundred yards, then five hundred, then four hundred. At three hundred yards, the canoes made an unexpected tactical move, splitting into two columns to attack the ship from both sides at once.

Edward made a parting of the waves motion to Hook, who seemed befuddled at first. But by the time the crafts had narrowed the distance to two hundred and fifty yards, Hook had figured out their plan. At seventy-five yards, Edward received the signal to open fire, though the canons remained silent so their attackers would think only the night watchman had spotted them, the rest of the crew still unaware or with little time to prepare.

Edward already has his first shot lined up and with light pressure applied to Henry’s trigger, two warriors toppled sideways out of one of the leading canoes. He quickly ripped open one of the parchment premeasured powder charges he’d made after the last attack by the natives, followed by a patch and ball, ramming them home. A quick dram of powder to the flash pan and he took his second shot, again taking out the first two braves in that canoe so it keeled over, dumping its last occupant in the ocean.

Johnny Greene, a deck hand, crawled into the crow’s nest with him, bringing a second rifle. “Captain sent me up here to reload for ye. Don’t worry.” He motioned at the rifle. “It’s fifty-caliber as well and loaded.” He tossed the rifle to Edward who handed him Henry to reload.

“There’s about fifteen more pre-measured powder packets in my pouch. After that, ye must measure wi’ the flask.” Johnny nodded and began quickly reloading Henry while Edward continued to snipe warriors from their canoes. Edward found this method quite productive, through in the future, God help them, three rifles would be better.

At one hundred feet, Hook signaled for the chase guns to be fired, taking out seven canoes with the grape shot and langrage. Canoes continued to surge forward, angling closer to the Jolly Roger. Gun ports opened suddenly and fired a barrage from both sides, splintering the canoes into shards of birch bark and leaving mangled bodies floating in the water.

From his sniper’s nest, Edward was able to pick off any warriors trying to scale the side of the Jolly Roger. The last of the canoes had not reached the ship when the decision was made to retreat. The chase guns continued to hammer them, and Edward continued to pick off any survivors in the water. He took several long shots as the canoes reached one hundred yards, taking out three more braves, while the chase guns changed their altitude and continued pounding the canoes with their deadly loads.

The sun was beginning to break over the treetops of Neverland when Hook waved Edward and Johnny down from the crow’s nest and satisfied that the Indians were in full retreat and over two hundred yards away, he called a cease fire for all cannons.

Edward was not as quick on the rigging as any of the other men. His left foot kept giving way and slipping off the ropes, so his progress down was slow and careful. Why he had no trouble going up, Edward had never been able to puzzle out. When his feet hit the deck, Johnny was waiting to give him a handshake and congratulations.

“That were some fine shootin’, Mr. Butcher,” Johnny grinned.

“You’re a damned quick loader yourself. Aye, ye were invaluable up there.” Edward returned the compliments. “I ne’er could have gotten so many without ye.”

Hook greeted Edward at the foot of the stairs. “Good job, sir,” he patted Edward’s shoulder heartily. “And good eyes too, spotting them so far away.”

“Thank you, sir,” Edward accepted his captain’s congratulations humbly, but his eyes twinkled merrily at Hook.

“Men!” Hook called out to gain the attention of his crew. “Were it not for the sharp eyes and quick thinking of Mr. Butcher, we might all be dead and scalped as well.”

Edward bashfully endured the cries of huzzah, wanting only to store his weapons and get busy in the galley when a movement at the stern caught his attention. Without thinking, he shoved Hook to the deck, drew Luke and fired, seemingly all in one smooth motion.

A lone warrior who’d managed to escape detection had scaled the back of the ship and was intent on taking at least one soul, and his choice was the worst possible. The ball from the pistol struck him squarely between his eyes and he keeled backwards into the ocean.

Joe Haigh observed all from the bow, having been relieved of his gun crew duties for the time being. He would would, probably be scrubbing cannons after breakfast.

“That’ll teach you tae try and shoot my captain in the back, you heathen!” Edward roared. He stretched out his hand to help Hook back to his feet with a “Sorry about that, sir.” He patted the pistol, now back in its holster. “Ye can always count on the Gospels tae have your back.”

“Thank you, Mr. Butcher.” Hook said, mildly stunned. “You shall have to explain your pistols names to me sometime. I find your choice quite interesting.”

“Aye sir,” Edward grinned. “But I must below deck and help fix a fine breakfast for the crew.” He had seen Victor already heading for the galley with his fusil.

“Of course,” Hook said. “Dismissed.”

Edward paused at the pantry, which was already open, to store his weapons, save Luke & John which he wore everywhere. Victor was busy cutting a goodly length of sausage links from their pole.

“I’ll be right wi’ you, Victor.” Edward said, pausing to quickly reload Luke. Once in the galley Edward washed his hands and began assembling ingredients for his Colony Biscuits. Victor boiled the sausage first before browning them in the large cast iron skillet, so they would remain tender and juicy, and they were served along with Edward’s biscuits and both plum and raspberry preserves each had taken turns making. At Victor’s suggestion, Edward added a good dose of rum to the men’s hot tea to warm their bellies and their hearts.

Again, Joe Haigh graced the dining hall with his presence to gather his breakfast and go back up top, but Edward stopped him before he could leave.

“Wait here a mo,” Edward winked. “I hae something tae gi’ you.” Edward headed for the pantry unlocking it, and Haigh watched from just outside the door as Edward began to sift through the contents of his sea chest. “Aha!” he said, sounding pleased. He closed the lid, displaying a flintlock pistol in fairly good condition. He locked the pantry door behind him and motioned for Haigh to follow him up the stairs.

“I noticed today that you hae no firearm of your own in the fight this morning,” Edward began. “I’ve had this for longer than I can remember, and it’s served me well. But it’s a forty-five caliber, nae a fifty. It’s yours on one condition.”

Haigh stared at him in disbelief and tried to speak but had lost his voice in the shock.

“Aye, I know what you’re thinkin’” Edward said. “Now why would that man gi’ me a gun? Well Joe, every man should hae at least one. You’ll hae tae find the right size ball and a powder flask, but it’s a good pistol. My only condition is that ye never turn it on any member of this crew. Yes?”

Joe set down his breakfast and looked the pistol over thoroughly. Like all of Edward’s weapons, it had been kept in excellent condition. It had nice balance to it and felt comfortable in his hand.” Oui” he replied. Edward extended his right hand.

“Then let’s shake on it like gentleman, and if you ever use it against any of o’ us, I’ll shoot you myself.” He winked. Joe frowned but shook Edward’s hand firmly. “Now, go and enjoy your breakfast before it gets cold.” Edward grinned. “Oh, and mind that tea. It’s got a bit o’ a kick tae it this morning.”

He headed back to the galley where he found Victor with his arms crossed, regarding him with a most disapproving eye. “What?” Edward said, finally having a minute to fix his own plate of breakfast. “Every man on this ship hae at least a pistol, and if any o’ those savages had gotten on board in any numbers… weel, I would nae like tae think of the outcome.”

“I think it is not wise,” Victor snorted.

“He agreed that he would ne’er turn it on any member o’ this crew, and I told him I’d kill him if he did.” Edward savored the wild boar sausage between one of his biscuits. “Och, man. Your sausage seasoning is spot on, mate.”

Victor nodded at the compliment, then went back to his concerns. “And what if the man he shoots if the captain?”

Edward’s expression grew dark. “Then I’ll shoot the bastard in the knee, and he’ll wish I had shot him dead before I’m done wi’ him.” He took another bite of his sausage biscuit, chewing thoughtfully. “I still di’nae trust what he does on that island, but I think the captain has set his head to rights, and if not, I’ll hunt him down myself if necessary. I’m no called ‘The Butcher” for naught.”

Victor shook his head buit set to fixing his own plate.

“Di’ nae fret.” Edward said. “I’ll be telling the captain myself, so if anyone gets in trouble o’er the affair, it’ll be me.” Victor raised a doubtful eyebrow and began to enjoy his own breakfast. Edward took his plate and cup and decided to finish his meal above deck in the cool fresh air.

#captain hook #pirates #neverland #violence #sleightlyoffhand

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fermented-writers-block · 5 years ago

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Just recently, I stumbled across @owls-house‘s post on MSN’s article about some of the first look details of The Owl House while looking through some of the older posts about upcoming news on the show before it came out, and this particular section caught my eye in light of everything we currently know about the Boiling Isles and the cast of the show:

The Owl House:

The Owl House is a living structure that Eda has charmed so that she could live there and be safe from outside forces. Quaint and cottage-like on the outside, with a storefront facade, the inside of the Owl House is full of secret rooms, with a labyrinth for a basement. Hooty, the door knocker, serves as the home’s defense system.

Given how the Owl House is supposed to be Eda’s safe haven and how she hasn’t really shown that much of an interest in puzzle solving and mysteries, the two bolded details immediately stood out to me.

I mean, from what we’ve seen of her, Eda has never really struck me as someone who’d construct or even want to deal with a labyrinth in the first place - particularly one that’s completely unnecessary if its supposed to be a basement to simply just store things in - and I very much doubt Eda would install a whole bunch of secret rooms into her house that presumably go unused when she likes to collect things so often, let alone go through all the trouble of making entire rooms dedicated to being secret when we’ve seen her be content with the amount of rooms she already uses.

And that’s without asking where and what the heck these secret rooms are supposed to be about specifically, as while they are secret and thus understandably not generally supposed to be easily found, they would have to be VERY small rooms to fit inside with the relative dimensions of all the rooms we’ve seen so far compared to the size of the exterior, and that’s without asking about what purpose they would even serve.

As for the apparent labyrinth, such a word tends to evoke the image of some incredibly huge and complex maze-like structure with single overall path and no dead ends - although it’s often been used interchangeably used with ‘maze,’ which is basically a labyrinth with dead ends, so who knows what it actually looks like here - and yet there is no sign of any kind of tunnel when an animated Hooty stood up in Hooty’s Moving Hassle let alone hardly any implied space for the kind of grand, sprawling structure the word ‘labyrinth’ evokes.

Now, I’ve brought this up in my last theory about the Owl House as a structure, but as a brief summary, I deduced that it is not a place that Eda had constructed completely all on her own, but rather an amalgamation of a bunch of parts of different buildings that had gotten attached to one center section: aka the middle part of the house with white brickwork - or the Owl Temple as I’ve dubbed it before.

And after looking through the flooring and walls of the rooms we’ve seen so far of the Owl House, I’ve concluded that the labyrinth at the very least is located or accessible from either underneath the carpet in the living room:

Or somewhere inside the parapet/battlement thing that serves as the floor of Eda’s balcony:

Obviously, considering the likely size of both of these rooms in relation to the dimensions of the house, they must be hidden away by magic, whether it be through magical pocket dimensions or the like, but this just raises the questions of why these rooms exist in the first place.

For me, I can see only two possible explanations for both questions, both of which I’ve outlined extensively down below:

TLDR: Either the original people who used the Owl Temple a long time ago had build those rooms into it, or they are a potentially significant part of Hooty’s biology as the house itself

Option 1: They were built by the original inhabitants of the Owl Temple

Like I’ve discussed before, I suspect that - from the owl mural and the way the curtains are arranged - the living room used to be used as an altar or ritual room for some kind of owl spirit/deity, so following off that kind of conclusion, it’s possible that the rest of the temple was designed in a similar fashion related to the Owl Deity.

Perhaps these secret rooms are only unlockable through puzzles and riddles to play into how owls are usually portrayed as wise old creatures, hiding away ‘treasures’ not of gold and wealth, but rather of information and books. Maybe these secret rooms could have been like places of study where one could peruse ancient tomes or collect knowledge without being disturbed, or they could simply be full on ordinary rooms that people lived and slept in but with doors that can only be unlocked in a particular way ala the Ravenclaw dorms in Harry Potter.

As for the labyrinth, it could have been meant as a way to test one’s mind and observation skills/as part of one’s initiation, requiring an attentive eye to detail or such to figure out the one single route in and out of it. Maybe it holds some kind of great secret of knowledge or an important ancient artifact that only those who can figure out the path can find/use.

Of course, there IS the small chance it functioned more like a quirky cult with the labyrinth posing as part of kind of bizarre ritual or being used for sacrificial duty, but I very much doubt that this would even get past the censors let alone even got implemented with how un-cult-like the glimpses of the base design of the Owl Temple has been so far.

That said, given how I’ve speculated that something happened that led to the Owl Temple being abandoned, falling into disrepair and obscurity long before Eda first discovered it, she likely has next to absolutely no idea about the existence of at least most of these rooms, so it would be interesting to see exactly how the cast will eventually and inevitably find and explore these hidden rooms and labyrinth, especially with the chance at discovering long-forgotten knowledge or even uncovering dark secrets and old truths that have been suppressed and forgetten by the present day.

However, though I think this explanation and ramifications thereof would be interesting to explore in its own right, I can’t help but think that the second, more likely explanation would easily expand upon and add quite the intrigue to a particular character I’ve had my eye on for a good while:

OPTION 2: They are a part of Hooty and are only increasing in size and number as he grows

We all know that Hooty IS the house itself as demonstrated by his manipulation of various parts of the structure and from statements by Eda, but whereas the prior explanation was based on the idea that the old inhabitants had created the secret rooms and labyrinth themselves before Hooty came into the equation, here I’d like to propose that the rooms are a side result of Hooty slowly regenerating back into a full sized Owl Temple.

With the kind of importance and likely amount of people that would be present or living in such a place, it seems rather likely that what we see of the Owl Temple in the Owl House is but a small-ish remnant of the entire thing, especially with the doorframe in Eda’s room that most likely connected to another section or large area that she either couldn’t salvage in an intact-enough state or didn’t care about to bring with her.

However, though Eda’s additions seems to have been integrated relatively neatly with what she found of the Owl Temple for Hooty to probably be able to affect them, they are likely nowhere near enough to make up for the rest of the missing Temple.

As such, Hooty could potentially and unknowingly be growing new rooms to make up for the rest of the Temple - kind of like a yolk becoming a baby chick inside of its shell, forming organs and bones and etc until it’s big and strong enough to emerge.

Though here, instead of breaking apart the foundations and outside of the Owl House entirely, perhaps this transformation would be more like the structure suddenly expanding outwards and quickly stretching everything about itself similar a video about plant growth on fast forward, up until the outer dimensions match the ever increasing inner dimensions.

With this kind of analogy, it’d make sense why Eda wouldn’t know about these rooms and why Hooty wouldn’t bring them up, as to the former, they literally weren’t there when she salvaged what she could of the Temple, and for the latter, they’re just such a natural part of his body that he simply doesn’t notice.

Now, why I think that this would add an interesting layer of mystique to Hooty’s character is because of the important question of - if and when he finds out about these rooms - whether Hooty would be able to consciously control their structure and arrangement however he wants.

After all, if the answer is YES, then we might get to begin to see the full capacity of both Hooty’s power and his patience if he gets ticked off and decides to turn the inside of the house into this:

It would not only be an amazing opportunity for some glorious mind screwy animation with the transformation of a location we’ve all become accustomed to into something straight out of M C Escher’s nightmares, but would also give an opportunity to build Hooty’s character MUCH further beyond the complete butt monkey he’s been portrayed as.

Outside of Eda calling him a “state of the art defense system” in the first episode, he has barely gotten any respect and has never been treated seriously compared to even King. And even when he seems to have temporarily died in The Intruder given the crossed-out eyes and the lights going out in the house when they’re apparently directly controlled by him, Luz and King didn’t really stay that concerned for long. Heck, King was more annoyed at hearing Hooty’s voice again rather than being happy that he was still alive.

After enduring all of that, it’s a wonder that Hooty hasn’t snapped any sooner, so how he’d react when he finally can get people to listen to him without them being able to just simply ignore him or leave would open up the gates to his inner psyche and how he really feels about everyone and the way they treat him.

Exactly how he’d manipulate the interior dimensions would be extremely telling of what kind of character he truly is at heart, what with the sheer kind of power trip from being in complete control over such a space vs how he would be calmed down from it, AND it’d mark a major and permanent shift in how everyone treats the being they live in on a daily basis due to how much mutual trust and respect both Hooty and his inhabitants would likely have to rebuild in each other to be able to go about their day and keep their relationships intact.

That, and it’d be a REALLY interesting glimpse into the full eldritch nature of a house with many more rooms on the inside than the outside suggests, one that actually has a mind and consciousness to drive it and thus one that you don’t really want to piss off if you can. Just think of all the fun horror/mind screw that could be done with such an episode about this.

Of course, this does bring into question exactly what is the deal with the labyrinth, but running off the seemingly one-time joke from the first episode where - instead of simply opening the door like he’s done in every other episode - Hooty lets everyone in by opening his mouth and even burping, the entire living room could easily be equated as Hooty’s stomach.

I’ve discussed this with @sepublic a bit, but because of how he can stretch vertically instead of just his neck as shown above, as well as the likely placement of the labyrinth underneath the living room, I suspect that the labyrinth might be doubling as Hooty’s intestines given the way real intestines fold and twist around while also having one single route through them like a labyrinth does.

That, and that Hooty may have gained Eda’s trust as a good enough defense system for her to rely on by being able to do this to whoever tries to attack the house from time to time:

I would not be surprised if Luz or Eda or whoever checks out the labyrinth later in the series might find the remains of some of Eda’s old enemies down there.

That said, considering how much bigger the original Owl Temple might possibly be than the Owl House, Hooty would likely require quite a LOT of material/energy to build back those rooms and other parts of the Temple. And given how he doesn’t exactly seem to passively be feeding off ambient magic or something alongside the comparison to intestines, well...

It just makes one wonder just what state those remains are in, let alone how recognizable they even still are in the first place.

#the owl house #owl house #the owl house theory #owl house theory #hooty #speculation #long post #amnesiac owl deity hooty theory

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