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dancing-in-a-yellow-dress · 3 years ago

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Trapped Little Angel (part 1)

Welcome to the first part of the first fanfic on this account.

Child!reader x the Avengers

Word count: 2900

Trigger warning: Imprisonment, nightmares, non graphic descriptions of violence and injuries, possible trigger for eating disorders

You were a 14-year-old orphan living alone in New York, since your family had died in the explosion that gave you your powers. Your powers were similar to Wanda’s (telekinesis and all that jazz). You got them when you were 7, but for whatever reason they hadn’t been active before that day.

It was a basic September day with all of its rain and fog and clouds. You were walking on the street when suddenly you blacked out and your powers exploded out of you destroying property and hurting people everywhere around you. The Avengers were called to action and they evacuated the block and when you’d cooled off a little they took you into custody and to the Avengers tower.

You had passed out and they didn`t really know what to do with you, so they laid you down on the couch and began a debate about the subject.

Tony believed firmly that you were dangerous to the team and the best thing for everyone would be to lock you up isolated and unstimulated to avoid new outbursts until a better option would be available. Steve backed Tony up to an extent, although he did believe the isolation to be unnecessary. Bruce didn’t really voice his opinion on confinement that much, instead focusing on the medical aspect of the situation.

Clint doesn’t really say much during the argument, before Tony raises the possibility of indefinite imprisonment in isolation. That is what finally gets to him, since you are just a kid and remind him of his own daughter. Wanda argues firmly against any form of forced imprisonment. In her opinion you needed medical attention, after which instead of locking you up the team should be focused on helping you control and develop your powers in a beneficial way.

Natasha is uncharacteristically quiet for the whole debate. Something about you had got to her and she found it hard to think of the situation objectively without a massive bias. Peter was on ‘your side’ for sure. To him you were a troubled kid who just happened to need some help. In a way he saw himself in you.

You start to regain consciousness about halfway through the argument. The Avengers are taken back at first, but when you are very confused and scared, Nat and Clint (who are the most ‘neutral’ participants) tell you what happened. When you have gotten the big picture you ask shakily: “How many people did I hurt? What’s the damage?” The others are hesitant to tell you, but Tony is highly pissed at you, so he takes his tablet and shows you some pics of the place where the accident happened. Wanda shoots him a death glare, but he continues and reads the statistics to you: “At this exact moment there are 9 people dead, 27 in critical condition and 56 with milder injuries. All because of your little stunt.” At this point you have pulled your knees to your chest and are struggling to breathe. Steve and Clint look at Tony like he has lost his mind and Nat tries to calm you down. You are repeating the same things over and over again: “I didn’t mean to- It’s all my fault… I don’t know how- What- I didn’t mean to…” Nat was approaching you, her hand reached out ready to stroke your back and pull you into a hug. She says: “We know. Everything will be alright, it’ll be alright. It wasn’t your fault, we’ll sort this out. It’s okay, you’re okay. We don’t blame you, but right now you need to calm down.” You flinch away from her, panic shining in your eyes: “No! Don’t touch me! I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t control it… I don’t understand- I didn’t mean to…” Suddenly you look desperately at Tony “You have to lock me up. I’m dangerous. I can’t be trusted. I have to be put away. Please”, you beg, surprising all of the other people in the room. Peter is about to say something, but Tony cuts him off.

You stand up and Clint shows you the way to a quite big cell. You step in and he shuts the door behind you. You sit on the floor in the corner and pull your knees to your chest. You just blankly stare at the wall. You noticed that there was a camera in corner of the room near the roof as you stepped inside, but you didn’t care. What did it matter. As you stayed on the floor the team was reheating the discussion whilst keeping an eye on the monitor that showed footage from your cell.

Wanda and Peter were shouting at Tony for locking you up in an isolation cell. Natasha and Clint were a bit calmer, but they were backing Wanda and Peter up. At some point Tony says: “You heard the kid. She wanted to be locked up. Even she thought it would be the best option”. And that sets Natasha off: “Yeah, after you had scared the poor thing on the verge of a panic attack. That wasn’t fair play. You drove her to that decision and you know it.” Then Peter fires: “Besides the whole ‘she decided herself’ excuse is bullshit. She’s a kid. SHE’S 14. I’m 17 and you don’t trust me to do anything yet, so how again is she any different?” That shuts Tony up.

In the end the team comes to the conclusion, that they will be monitoring you strictly and willing people will be allowed to go talk to you. All except Peter (just for the first few days) who is infuriated to no end by the decision.

The first person to come talk to you is Wanda. She comes and talks for a while, but you can’t make any sense of what she’s saying. After a while she leaves shutting the door behind her. Steve also comes to question you, and even though this time you understand what he is saying you can’t find the energy to answer him in you. Clint brings you something to eat and drink, but you don’t move a muscle to acknowledge the act. Time sort of looses its meaning to you as you sit on the floor and stare into nothing, alone with your thoughts, the same thoughts over and over and over again.

Nevertheless, you know some time has passed when Natasha comes through the door with another tray filled with food. She places it carefully on her untouched bed and sighs deeply before speaking: “You should really start eating on your own. It’s been two whole days and you haven’t taken a bite. I get that its hard, but you’ve got to try. Otherwise we’ll have no choice but to put a feeding tube down your throat and trust me kid, that does not feel good.” She gives you another look, then turns around and walks out. Slowly you straighten your legs on the floor.

You hadn’t really noticed how much your muscles were hurting for being in the same position for so long before someone pointed it out. You stretched your legs first and then stood up slowly. You went through your body, stretching every muscle one at a time and then sat down beside the bed to eat. You weren’t really hungry, but the threat of getting a feeding tube stuffed down your throat was enough to get you eating.

After you were done with the meal you went back to your corner and sat back down, leaving your legs laying on the floor instead of curling up to a tight bundle. After a few minutes there was a knock at the door and Wanda walked in. She picked the tray up and looked down at you, clearly assessing the situation before finally saying: ”Hey, I was wondering if you needed to use the bathroom.” You didn’t answer her but stood up and stepped timidly few steps forward so that she knew you’d be coming along. She guided you through the hallways and into a bathroom. “There is a towel on the counter and shampoo on a shelf in the shower. Take as long as you need. I’ll pick up some clean clothes for you and bring them here. Okay?” You didn’t say a word but nodded and opened the door to the bathroom. After half an hour you were back in your cell but feeling significantly cleaner and comfier.

Instead of sitting back in the corner on the floor you sat on your bed and crossed your legs. You didn’t know why, but you felt like it, so you started singing, first just humming quietly, then adding the words to the song. It was an old lullaby your mom had sang to you more than once. Some things just had a way of sticking with you.

`Hyvin hiljaa, hyvin hiljaa

nyt kuuluu keijujen äänet

Ne tanssivat taas koko yön laulaen

koko yön laulaen.

Hyvin hiljaa, hyvin hiljaa

taas syttyy tähtöset pienet

Ne oottavat taas läpi yön loistaen

läpi yön loistaen.

Hyvin hiljaa, hyvin hiljaa

nyt sammuu keijujen äänet

Ne liitävät taas ylös luo tähtien

ylös luo tähtien`

Then you sang it over again, this time in English

If your quiet, very quiet,

you can hear sound of the fairies

They’re dancing again through the night until day

through the night until day

Very quiet, almost silent

the stars are lighting the sky

they’re waiting again till the night fades away

till the night fades away

If you’re quiet, very quiet

you can hear sound the fairies

they race through the sky so they’ll be near the stars

so they’ll be near the stars

You sang the song a couple times over and finally you got to the last part you had made up on your own. You always ended it there, since you could never continue singing after that.

Hyvin hiljaa, hyvin hiljaa

ei kuulu keijujen äänet

Ne lähtivät taas minut yksin jättäen

minut yksin jättäen

Even if you’re very quiet

you won’t hear sound of the fairies

they flew up the sky leaving me alone behind

leaving me alone behind.

You broke down sobbing. Clint was sitting at the monitor, and he thought it’d be best not to disturb you, so you were left alone as you start humming another melody your mom taught you.

Joka ilta kun lamppu sammuu ja saapuu oikea yö Niin Nukku-Matti nousee ja ovehen hiljaa lyö On sillä uniset tossut ja niillä se sipsuttaa Se hiipii ovesta sisään ja hyppää kaapin taa

”I didn’t know she was finnish” Nastasha said to clint as she sat next to him with two cups of tea. “Finnish?” Clint asked as they listened to the beautiful melody coming from the lonely cell. Nat was quiet for a while before saying “Yeah. The language is absolutely bizarre.” They sat in silence for another while, until Clint said: “She sounds miserable” “Yeah, but who wouldn’t. I’m guessing she has no family, since no one has come asking for her.”

Ja pieni sateenvarjo on aivan kallellaan Ja sinistä unien kirjaa se kantaa kainalossaan Ja unien sinimaahan se lapset autolla vie Surrur, surrur ja sinne on sininen, uninen tie

Ja siellä on kultainen metsä, ja metsässä kultainen puu Ja unien sinilintu ja linnulla kultainen suu Ja se unien sinilintu se lapsia tuudittaa Se laulaa unisen laulun joka mielen uneen saa

Your mum never taught you that song in English. You had tried translating it, but it always turned out so peculiar you had eventually given up.

When you felt like you had cried enough you stopped with the finnish and started going through songs you had heard somewhere else, altering the lyrics as you went.

You hadn’t sung anything in weeks and now you just couldn’t stop. It felt good. You went over your favorites altering lyrics and making up new verses, not wanting the song to end. As you sang you thought about mum and home. In the outside world they were forbidden things, because they made it hard to focus on surviving. But here she had all the time in the world to think. After hours and hours she finally laid down on the mattress and drifted to sleep

Tony had just started his shift watching you through the monitor and you were having a nightmare. You were curled up in a ball and whimpered and muttered quietly, as tears ran down your face. You dug your nails into your back and started scratching leaving bloody red marks behind. Then you started screaming. The sound echoed through the halls, but Tony didn’t know what to do, so he ended up doing nothing, just staring at the screen paralyzed. It went on for a while, until you finally flinched so violently you woke up.

You were in a state of panic, but as you realized where you were it started to wear off. Little by little you started to feel the pain from the bloody scratch marks on your back and arms. You examined your injuries to the best of your abilities and then looked at the floor while talking sheepishly at the camera in the corner of the room: “If you don’t mind I’d like to have something to wrap these cuts with. I might also need some help with the ones in my back. Its not a big deal, but I don’t want them to get infected.”

The screaming had woken up Natasha and Steve who were now standing behind Tony, looking at the screen over his shoulders. Tony cleared his throat before turning around in his chair and facing the other two. They both had their arms crossed on their chest. Steve looked surprised as hell, but Natasha was quick to recover. She threw Tony an icy stare before saying: “Should we think the imprisonment over again, or is she still too dangerous for you to handle?” Tony raised his hands before saying: “Let’s think that over in the morning, when the whole team is up. Now, would you mind going to help her with the injuries?” Natasha threw Tony another dirty look, before grabbing the first aid kit and heading to your cell.

Nat came, and you laid on the bed on your stomach. She lifted your shirt, poured antiseptic solution on a cloth and warned you: “I’m sorry, but this is gonna hurt like a bitch.” She pressed the cloth gently on your back and you shrug. “It’s not that bad. You get used to pain as a homeless kid. Once I had to remove a bullet from my own shoulder.” There Nat saw an opportunity get little bit more information of you and continued the conversation: “Must be tough. I suppose you don’t have any family left?” “Yeah, mum and dad and Tom died… in an accident” you tensed up visibly. Nat continued unbothered but didn’t bring up the deaths again. “I heard you sing the other day. Didn’t know you were finnish.” “Oh, I’m not. My mom was.” “So, can you speak finnish or what?” “Nah, not anymore anyways. I used to, but I haven’t used it in a long time. Some things just stuck with me, like the songs, or silly pet names mum used to call us.” For some reason you felt really safe with Natasha. Her touch reminded you of home as she worked to clean your wounds and then wrap them with clean gauze. You knew it was silly, but it just felt so good to finally talk to someone, so you kept answering her as she continued asking questions. “Pet names, huh. What did she call you?” “She used to call me Lumikki. It’s the finnish for snow white. It’s cheesy as hell, I know but we lived in a little cottage in the woods, and I was obsessed with Disney.” Natasha smiled at you. “Do you remember anything else about your mum.” “She had the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard. She sounded like an angel. Sometimes I hear her in the wind.” You pause for a minute “And she was a dancer. She used to be a ballerina, but then she had us and her career ended. She never quit dancing though. Once in a while she’d put on her slippers and go through some old routine, like she had never stopped. She even taught me some basics.” Natasha was quiet for a moment. Then she cleared her throat and continued: “Did you have any siblings?” “Yeah”, you were quiet for a moment, not rushing to continue “One brother. His name was Tuomas, but we all called him Tom. Three years older than me. He was my best friend.” A tear fell down your cheek. Natasha was almost done with wrapping your back so she asked one more question. “How about your dad” You shrugged. “He was a hunter. Spent most of his time with Tom out in the forest when I stayed in with mum.” Nat packed the medical supplies back to the first aid kit and pulled your shirt down so that it covered your back. Then she helped you sit up and said: “I can’t promise anything yet, but we’re having another meeting with the team about your… condition and I believe you might get out of here.” She saw the unsure look you gave her. “Don’t worry” she said as she took your hand “Everything will be alright. I promise”

Sorry, I have absolutely no idea what is going on with the spacing, tried to fix it but it wont budge... Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter!

#the avengers #mcu #fanfic #child!reader #tony stark #steve rogers #bruce banner #clint barton #natasha romanoff #peter parker #reader x avengers #child!reader x avengers

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

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By the king’s hand 🐍 VI

Warnings: warnings to be added as we progress but this series may contain non-consent, violence, death, and other triggers (this chapter, oral, violence, degradation)

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The king proves to be mercurial and you prove to be foolish.

Note: Masterlist update coming today @darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor. Updates might be sporadic from here on out because despite the world being utter shit, Black Friday still exists.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

The air was fragrant as you sat on the low bench, wrapped in only a robe, and stared out the window. On the other side of the room, Loki dressed with the help of the young boy, Hal. The steam of his bath still dissipated in the air as he grumbled now and then, often drinking deeply from his glass and pouring another slosh of water from the pitcher.

It was as if you weren’t there. How easily the king forgot about all but himself. He dressed in dark blue that day, trimmed in an ivory cape and boots. He swatted Hal away and touched his temple as the sunlight made him squint. He sighed and brushed his fingers through the ends of his dark locks.

“Today will be the riding events. I did excuse myself from those lists.” He spoke, almost as if to himself. “Tomorrow I will be in better condition to win at the blade.”

You were quiet as you drew your legs up onto the bench. You slouched over your knees and rested your chin on your crossed arms.

“I will be gone much of the day but I expect you ready upon my return,” he neared and his shadow loomed over you, “You will undoubtedly be eager for it… From what I recall of last evening, you might even be begging for it.”

You glowered up at him as he smirked and winced then tapped his forehead.

“What am I to do? I have nothing but to walk the boards and stare out at the grass. I will be mad by the time you return.” You muttered as you turned your head away.

“All the better,” he slithered. He lifted his toe and swiveled his heel. He exhaled deeply. “Well, what should you like to do?”

“Besides the obvious?” You sneered.

“Perhaps, if you behave, I will see you to a stroll among the corridors when all are retired, but for now I cannot offer much more.” He sniffed, “So, what is it you peasants occupy your time with?”

You blinked and rubbed your cheek as you thought. You hadn’t much besides your work and your occasional adventures with Gilla. Neither would be viable now.

“I might try to sketch?” You looked up at last.

He considered you with a wrinkle in his brow and nodded. “I will grant you the favour upon the promise of one in kind,” he said, “...upon my return.”

You bit down. You expected as much but it still irked you. You turned to the window again.

“As you wish, your majesty.” You stared out at the green leaves that crested the branches of the palace yards. You felt him watch you a moment longer before he retreated.

“Hal, you will fetch her paper and some charcoal,” his soft soles approached the door, “Tend to her meals as you will and draw her a bath. She is starting to smell a bit… common.”

“Your majesty,” Hal chirped and followed the king through to the receiving chambers.

You listened as the doors opened and closed and you dropped your legs over the edge of the bench as you leaned against the wall. You grunted in frustration and hit the bench with your fist. It was exactly what Loki wanted; you at his mercy. Those small requests would grow to desperate pleas. His ploy was working but you could do little to keep him from controlling you entirely.

🐍

You weren’t very good at drawing but you managed a sloppy image of the scene through the window. The trees were slightly crooked and the gate uneven but it kept you busy for a time. You turned to a blank sheet but couldn’t focus enough to draw as you could hear the distant audience from the other side of the glass.

The common folk didn’t often attend these events. If they were present, they were selling wares to those lords and ladies who gathered for the pageantry. Still, trapped in the endless monotony, you longed to join the festivity. Anything but to sit within those walls and wait until your tormentor returned. Even if he could make you feel splendid, the king was little more than your warden.

As the sun reached its peak, Hal appeared to draw your bath with several attendants. You washed alone and dressed in one of the gowns provided by the king. You hate how the satin clung to your torso even with its boning and how the skirts tickled your legs as they swished.

You ate a little. Your tedium turned to impatience turned to agitation. The day faded from yellow to a calm blue and slowly dimmed beyond the stone walls. The din quieted as the sun descended. The king’s presence loomed in your mind.

You attempted a sketch of a lion statuette and relinquished the charcoal in frustration. Hal appeared with two covered plates on a tray and set them on the table. He placed a bottle of wine and some goblets alongside them and left you without a word. The boy seemed nervous since your prior conversation.

The king entered without fanfare. You looked up at him as you were distracted from the trance that had you staring into the unlit hearth. He glanced over at you and frowned. He tutted and removed his cape.

“I am aware your etiquette is unrefined but you will rise and pay your obeisance to me upon my arrival,” he uttered, “Do not think I grow negligent in my expectation of you, little mouse.”

You stood stiffly and bowed. He sat at the table and huffed.

“Well, get over here,” he pointed to the other chair, “Pour some wine.”

You crossed to the table and filled a goblet for him. Your own, you only filled to the half point. You sat and uncovered your plate as he did the same. He poked at the food. He was annoyed already.

“Are you not hungry?” He asked as he twirled his fork. “I am informed your plates are left barely touched as late.”

“I am,” you scooped up a potato, “I will eat.”

He tilted his head and considered you. He dropped his fork and leaned back in his seat. “Do not force yourself on my account,” he said, “If you do not appreciate the fare, then you may forego your supper.”

“Your majesty, I will--”

“No, no, as I recall, you owe me,” he glanced at the paper on the edge of the table and the sticks of charcoal, “And as I do anticipate an early morning on account of the competition, I would rather we sort this out sooner.”

He dropped a hand down and picked at the laces of his trousers, “Come, under the table,” he bid, “If you will not eat then you may use your mouth for other means.”

You glared at him, mortified. You brought your fork to your lips and he was quick to rise and bat it away. The top of his pants drooped as you dropped the silver and you blanched at him. He dropped back into his chair.

“I do not issue requests, I give orders. Now on your knees or I will have you even quicker on your back.”

“Then do it already,” you snarled, “I tire of your boasting.”

He stood once more, this time so abrubtly that his chair toppled behind him. He was upon you in a moment, his hands around your head as he forced you to your feet. His eyes flared down at you as you grabbed onto his arms and wrestled with him. You stumbled as he dragged you around the chamber he angled you toward the settee.

He shoved you down and slipped a hand down to your throat as he straddled you beneath him. He slid his hand down the front of his open trousers and pulled out his hard member. He lifted his knees and moved up to pin down your shoulders. He squeezed your throat tightly as he bent over you and guided his cock to your lips.

“You bite me and I will have your teeth on the floor,” he threatened, “Now open for your king.”

You clenched your lips but as your breath dwindled, you gasped and he quickly slipped inside your mouth. He sank down your throat as he brought his hand up above your head and thrust his hips roughly. You choked and kicked out. You slapped his thighs as you struggled to breathe.

He groaned as his hips slammed down harder and harder. You gagged and your eyes lolled back as your vision swam with tears.

“You do push me when I am already… inflamed,” he grunted, “When my temper has already been stoked by incompetents.”

He fucked your face without relent as you were trapped beneath him. His fingers stretched over your head and he sped up once more. He panted as he chased his end and when it rose, he flooded your throat without warning. He continued to rock into you until you swallowed around him. He shivered at the sensation and sat back as he slowly drew himself from your mouth.

His cock glistened as he rested his weight on your chest and steadied himself. He swallowed and hung his head back. Without looking, he poked two fingers into your mouth. Without thinking, you gnashed his digits between your teeth. You were met quickly with a strike across your cheek.

He wiggled his fingers, further pained by the slap, and growled.

“Must you insist on difficulty,” he pushed himself off of you and tucked away his cock. He grabbed your arm and wrenched you onto the floor. “There you are.” He jabbed you with his toe. “You can spend your night there.”

He shoved you back with his boot and spun away from you. He went to the table and took the heel of bread from his plate and the entire bottle of wine. “No supper for you. If I see that you’ve so much as stolen a crumb, I will whip you myself.”

He stomped to the bedroom doors and looked back at you one last time. “And leave the boy alone. He is not your friend.”

🐍

You stayed on the floor but didn’t sleep much. Little hazes but nothing more. Loki stirred in the next room and you turned to face the wall. You didn’t move as a knock sounded shortly after. The young boy seemed to always sense when he was required. He entered and hesitated as he passed you before the settee. He carried on and you let out the air in your lungs.

You heard the king’s voice and the activity that followed his awakening. When he emerged, you remained as you were. He ordered Hal around as he sat to tie his boots. He scoffed as he rose and swept towards the door.

“I know you are awake, mouse,” he said, “Let’s not make deception a habit.”

You refused to respond and he huffed. The door opened and he paused in the doorway. “See to her meals, boy.” His voice shifted direction, “Sir, you will watch the door.”

A grumble came in response to the orders as the door snapped shut. You rolled onto your back and sat up. The morning light made your head pulse and your eyelids drooped heavily. You pulled yourself up onto the settee and buried your face in the cushion. You hadn’t the energy to stay mad, you only needed sleep. It wasn’t long before it came.

When you woke, you were groggy. A plate awaited you on the table and the same buzz floated from outside the walls. Another day of sport and you were, as ever, pent up inside on the king’s whim. You slunk over to the table and ate without tasting. Your stomach ached until it was satisfied.

You stood and paced. You stopped at the window as you tried to get a glimpse of the tents erected around the tourney grounds but the silk offered little sign of what was unfolding. You hated that you had to wait, it was all you did. The king had chosen your punishment well. This purgatory was worse than any dungeon.

You marched back and forth. Your anger began to bubble over. Well, if he should have you do nothing, you will find something to keep yourself occupied. Perhaps you might tear down the drapes or dismantle the framed pictures of his smug ancestors. What worse could he do that he did not intend already?

You kicked the door as you passed it and your toe throbbed. Your slippers offered little padding and you swore. Further enraged by your pain, you punched the door. You stopped and listened through the wood. You could hear the drafty emptiness of the halls. Cautiously, you rested your hand on the handle and pressed until the lever lifted.

You pulled the door an inch inward and waited for it to be forced back into place. But you met no resistance and poked your head into the corridor. There was no guard, no passing resident, no spy you could see. You retreated and steadied your nerves. Was it a trick? A trap? Either way, it was too much to deny.

You went to the wardrobe and took down the grey cloak hung within. You tied it at your throat and peered back into the halls. Still, no keeper to stop you from your escape. Well, it would only be a brief sojourn. You only wanted to see the games. To know what made the crowd so raucous.

You hesitated. If the king discovered your flight, you would be in dire trouble. Yet, he was competing himself and wouldn’t even know. So long as you were back before your guard. Where was that lug anyhow?

You put your foot down lightly. You slowly leaned your weight on it and stepped out into the hall, testing its vacancy. Still, you were alone. You pulled up your hood and closed the door behind you. You weren’t certain which way to go in the immense palace.

You lost yourself several times over before you found the stairs. You scurried down the steps and hid your face as well as you could as you passed by servants in their aprons and caps. You felt as if they all knew, as if any would accost you and report your offense back to the king.

But they didn’t and you kept on until you stumbled in disbelief onto the green. You followed the scent of roasting beef and the wall of voices to the cluster of tents along the sporting field. There were benches set on platforms to house the observers; the ladies waving their handkerchiefs and the older lords cheering on their favourites.

You stood before the steps of the stands and glanced around. Surely you were being followed. You couldn’t have just walked out onto the green so easily. It felt too simple. It felt a snare but yet you kept going.

You climbed up and pushed down your hood as no other wore theirs. You needed to blend in with the crowd. You walked behind a row of ladies as they stood and called out to the field. You stopped behind them and stood on tiptoes to see past them. Two contestants in armor charged at each other with blunted blades. The tourneys had long since traded real steel for training weapons. The forgers often complained of the flimsy designs.

You edged past the line of ladies and upon a closer look, you recognised the fighters. The prince, Thor, fought in red armor with a lion on its helm, and his brother, the king, faced him with serpents across his breast plate. As you heard it, the custom was to allow the monarch a victory.

Still, the audience held its breath as the swords crashed together once more. The much larger royal barely missed his brother with a fearsome strike. Loki was quick and kicked out Thor’s leg. The elder slipped but recovered easily as he batted away the next swing. The two danced around each other; Loki, graceful and light, Thor, lumbering but effective.

As Thor struck down with both hands, Loki deflected him but found the dull blade snapped by the force. He stumbled back and dodged his brother’s next attack. The king was fast but defenseless. He ducked and dove all around but at last found himself cornered by his burly brother. You saw the desperation and the realisation in his posture.

He made an attempt to disarm his brother only to be thrown back. He landed with a thud on his back and the crowd went silent. Thor sheathed his sword and offered his hand to his brother. There was a moment before the gesture was accepted and the king was hauled onto his feet. The men clapped each others’ shoulders politely but all knew there was little comradery between them. Only the prince would dare best the king. And he had dared.

The king waved to the crowd and the competitors were led from the field. The king reached to remove his helm as he walked towards the stall and looked out into the crowd. His jaw was tense and even at a distance you could see his spite. And, you swore, he could see you.

You carefully took a step back and hid behind the figure next to you. You let out a shuddery breath. He could know, now from so far away. You were just another body in the crowd. Well, you had come and seen the fuss. You would have to go before your absence was discovered and the alarm sent up.

You retraced your steps and staggered onto the grass. After such a loss, the king would be even angrier. He did not lie when he said his brother provoked him like no other. A dark foreboding stabbed you.

You already regretted your mistake. A moment of impulsivity had taken you too far. But he hadn’t seen you. He couldn’t have. You were just paranoid.

You ducked your head down and raced up the palace steps and followed a servant until you found the stairs. You were lost again as you reached the top. The corridors seemed to only lead into each other in circles but at last, you caught your bearings.

You turned the corner that led to the king’s chambers but were suddenly jerked back as a painful grip closed around your arm. Magnus sneered down at you as his hand threatened to crush your bones. He slammed you against the wall and you gasped.

“The king will not be happy with you, wench,” he snarled, “Oh, I think he might just toss you back where you belong.”

“Let go of me,” you rasped, “Ow!”

He shook you with a sharp hiss.

“Shut your fucking mouth. You know what he will do when I reveal to him what you’ve done?” He taunted.

You gulped down air and croaked out as squirmed helplessly. “And what… about you? What will he think of the guard who let me free?” You trembled as his grey eyes bore into you, “When he learns that your absence allowed for my escape?”

His nostrils flared and he squeezed your arms. His jaw ticked as he stared you down then all at once, his hands dropped. He shoved you away from the wall.

“You keep quiet and go back,” he stomped behind you, “And I won’t snap your neck and tell him you asked for it.”

You went to the door and he was close behind. He reached past you and opened the door so that it hit the wall. He grabbed the back of your neck and dragged you inside. He kicked the back of your legs so that they collapsed and he forced you down to the ground as bent over you.

“I know why the king keeps you, whore,” he spat, “He will tire of you soon and I will delight in throwing you back to the dungeons.” He pushed until your face met the floor. “When he is done, he might just let me finish breaking you.”

He pushed away from you and flipped you with his foot. He clutched his pommel and sneered down at you as he circled you. His chest puffed out and he stopped sharply on his heel.

“A little rat like you will be back to the gutter soon enough,” he backed away as he seemed tempted to draw his blade. “I’ll make sure of it the next time you stray.”

He slammed the door behind him and it shook in his stead. You laid on the floor, paralysed with adrenaline. You blinked up at the ceiling and breathed at last. You were truly out of your depth.

#loki #loki x reader #dark loki #dark!loki #medieval #by the king's hand #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #medieval au #medieval!au #king!loki #mcu #marvel #thor #au

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thenextchapter22 · 3 years ago

Text

Mail Order… Kitten Girl

Part 7: Bath Time

Description: Satan accidentally orders a special type of ‘cat’ online after having a few too many drinks…

Tags: Past Abuse, Past Non/Con, Slavery, Pet Play, Cat Hybrids, Fluff, Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content

Pairing(s): Reader/Everyone (but Luke)

Link to my AO3: Click Here

In this chapter: Continuation of the last chapter... Asmo gives Kitten a bath, featuring some fluff and hurt/comfort...

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

+++++ MINORS DNI +++++

Asmo carried you into his bedroom first, and then straight into his bathroom which adjoined it. It was one of his favorite places, he always told you.

The smells that hit your nose were sweet, and the air was warm and pleasant on your exposed body. You began to purr, tail flickering lazily, occasionally brushing against his body to make him shiver. The continued contact with another person always brought you comfort, so you curled up into him, pressing your breasts to his shirt, feeling small in his arms like you did with all your Master’s when they held you or carried you. They were large demons, after all, and you loved to be coddled.

"Smells nice," you commented quietly.

Asmo smiled down at you. "I was hoping that these aromas wouldn't overwhelm that sensitive little nose~" he leaned down and eskimo kissed you, making you giggle.

He set you on a cushioned bench along the wall. As he sat you down, you squeaked and reached up for him immediately, your bum tensing up. "Ngg!"

The demon made a sympathetic sound. “Oh Kitten, does it hurt?” He lifted you up again into his arms, careful to hold you at your thighs and back with each arm. You did, after all, still have that plug nestled inside of you, your hole throbbing around it.

You shook your head, pressing into his neck. “S-sore, ‘s all.”

“Here, let’s lie you down instead.”

He got a pillow and placed it at the edge of the bench, and lay you down on your side. The leash was still attached to your collar, and so you moved it to drape it so that didn’t get in your way. Your Master would take it off, you were not permitted.

There were still some aftershocks from before, and you blushed remembering what happened. Cumming in front of all your Masters... So obscene, and really fun, too.

But now, as you watched Asmo pouring oils of different colors into the large tub, you made the realization of just what was about to happen, and it honestly started to scare you.

You had a fear of water. Or rather, a fear or taking baths. Of being dunked in deep water. So far you had only showered, and the warm rain-like water made you clean and felt nice—you liked the rain, it was calming—and you had room to breathe inside the shower.

The fear was like a dark smoke clogging your lungs, and every inhale made it harder to breathe. Memories of past baths at that terrible place began washing over your mind, and you whimpered, bringing a claw-extended hand to your mouth to keep quiet. Your Master wanted you to take a bath, you had to do it...

But Asmo heard your groan. His head popped up to face you from where he was kneeling over the giant tub. “Kitten?”

His soft-spoken concern had you crying. You sniffled, and your voice echoed in the room, “No bath, please!”

His orange-yellow eyes widened. “Baby, no, don’t cry,” he begged, quickly rushing to you. He took your hand from your mouth and held it tight, stroking over your knuckles with his thumb. “What’s wrong, do you not want to have a nice bath?”

Your mouth stretched open into a wail, “Nooooo-”

He hushed you, and pet your hair with his other hand. “Love, it’s okay, I’m here. Please tell me what’s troubling you, so I can help.” His hands kept caressing you, trying to alleviate your anguish. From your head to your cheeks, he was continuously touching you, grounding you.

Eventually he took a seat on the bench by your head, and you crawled into his arms, the plug in your butt was uncomfortable but it took a backseat to the emotional distress. Your hands curled around his neck, and your legs outstretched one way over his, and you cried for a little while, his arms rubbing your back and neck, his lips kissing your head and cheeks, shushing you softly.

“Darling, I have you,” he would say over and over.

Soon enough you were just shaking, and breathing slowly and with minimal trouble. Your face felt raw, as did your throat. You leaned back a bit from his body to breathe, and glanced at his face. His kind eyes stared into your own, and you gathered the courage to speak on the past that haunted you.

“They-” you stuttered out, “w-would make m-me go un-nder. Hold m-me, h-hurt me...”

“You’re talking about where you came from?” he said, tense as he held you.

“Y-yeah...” you sniffled.

Flashes of ‘before’ came behind your eyes. Dunked in a large basin with cold water, or too hot water. Your ears got wet and it hurt. They tore your tail with rough scrubbing, and your skin was fire hot and itchy.

You sobbed dryly. “I-I’m scared...”

Asmo kissed your head. “Do you want me to go in with you? I can put on my swimsuit, or not. Whatever my Kitten needs.”

You nodded. That would be better, you thought. Having him close, your Master by your side. “Please, in with me? Um, n-no clothes? But I don’t wana play... Is that okay, Master?”

He cooed. “Of course, dearheart.” He reached around and grabbed your collar, the bell ringing, “let’s get this off, and then we’ll go in the tub.”

The collar and leash were taken off, and he lifted you up as he stood. You gasped, not expecting that, and frantically gripped his neck, claws digging in a bit. He winced but said nothing. Then he set you down on the edge of the tub, and you stood on shaky legs. “Put your feet in and tell me if it’s too hot or cold, okay?”

You did as he asked, dipping a toe in, and it was perfect. You looked up at him and nodded shyly. “The water is fine...”

He grinned. “Perfect!” He held out his hand, and you took it, and he helped you step in. “Careful, there are steps here to get in.”

You took a deep breath, each step making it harder. Eventually you were up to your breasts, and he got his clothes off quickly and slipped in the tub, too.

“Why don’t you go over here, beautiful, so I can take out your plug,” he pointed to the side.

You bent over the side of the tub, knees on the outer seating but still in the water, just a few inches of your back out of the warmth. He put his hand on your inner thigh and pulled you open, and then grabbed the plug to gently twist and pull. It hurt a little, and you clenched down.

“No, no, love, you need to loosen up so I can pull it free. Bare down now,” he whispered.

You did, and it was easier then, and the plug came loose. Your bottom felt open and loose, and he softly rubbed his finger over your abused hole. “Does it feel good, or bad?” he asked matter of fact.

You shifted from side to side, and winced. “Hurts, not a lot, though.”

“Hm, that’s very good. Satan used plenty of lube. When we’re done, I'll put some lotion on it to help the aches.”

You settled back down, sitting carefully on your bottom. He came over and maneuvered behind you, and you felt him against your back, his cock wasn’t hard but it was there, and you suddenly had a thought that you should please him.

“I-I...”

He understood, and placed his hands around your body, skin to skin, chest to your back, his head fitting to the side of your face. He was soft and warm. “It’s okay, we don’t have to do anything. Let me wash your hair, and your tail if you’d like that.”

You were glad of that. You loved pleasing them, but the non-sex stuff you did with them was fun, too.

“Please... I-I'd like that, Master...”

“All right then, lovely kitty, we’ll get your hair wet first.”

He cupped a hand over your eyes, and water was pouring over your head, and he was mindful of your ears, too. You were tense, though, and he paused after he did it the first time. “Kitten, are you okay if I keep going?”

You swallowed with eyes shut tight. “Y-yes. Just... my ears, please...”

“I’ll be careful not to get water in them, I promise.”

He used a cup and poured it over your head, and was patient when you tensed up. He kissed your cheeks, and said how proud he was of you, how brave you were. It made you blush.

“So sweet~”

“Master, please...”

He laughed, and nodded. “Okay baby, now for the shampoo.”

He lathered up a sweet-smelling shampoo that was on the outside of the tub in a basket and scrubbed it on your scalp. You immediately leaned back into it. “I put some calming oils in the tub for you, and this is one of my favorite shampoos. It softens your hair and smells like cotton candy. You like sweet things, don’t you, Kitten?” he teased.

You blushed. “Yes, Master, I do...” It was known by now that you liked sweets. Cakes, candy, anything with cream. It was all tasty and you never got to have much.

“I love sweet things, too. Especially sweet Kittens like the one in my arms,” he bent to kiss your neck, and you shivered. It was a sensitive spot for you, your neck. He just hummed, “Let’s rinse this out, and then we can condition your hair.”

You were thankful he was telling you what he was doing. You still felt a nervous but having his hands caress you and guide you was perfect.

He finished rinsing your hair, and it was done. Then he did the same with conditioner, and it was all good, no water in your ears.

He pecked your cheek. “Such a good job,” he praised. “Can I touch your tail?”

You nodded, and lifted your tail out of the water. “Here... ‘m sensitive at the base of my tail.” They sort of knew that, but you wanted to double check.

“Okay, thank you for telling me.”

He did the shampoo and conditioner and was very gentle, and it was nice to have your tail pet like that. Usually, it was just your ears that got pet, so this was a nice change.

“Okay, my dear, all done. Do you want to soak, or do you want out?”

“Out.”

He didn’t laugh at how quickly you replied and instead helped you stand up. The water dripped down your nude body and the air felt cooling on your skin, your nipples hardening. Asmo didn’t pay mind to that, either, and led you to stand on a rug. He put on a robe and tied it around his waist. You did see his mild erection, but right now you didn’t want to do any of that. Your head wasn’t in the right place, and thankfully your Masters were kind enough not to force you into doing things.

Asmo was rifling through the closet for towels, picking at them and shaking his head, looking for a specific one obviously. “I have a nice fleece robe for you, and cozy slippers. Do you want me to blow dry your hair, or let it dry naturally?”

You didn't like the sound of the blow dryer. “No dryer,” you said adamantly.

He chuckled. “Got it, love.” He used a towel to dry over your body, and you let him, feeling pampered. The towel was so soft and fluffy. You purred, leaning into his touch. “Ugh, you are the most precious little thing ever,” he cooed, kissing at your cheek. Then he grabbed a bathrobe, pink and fluffy, and put it around you loosely.

“No underwear?” you asked with a frown.

“Do you want some?” he asked back.

You pursed your lips, and swished your tail back and forth. The robe was snug and felt soft on your body, so no, you actually didn’t want underwear.

“No thank you.”

He nodded. “We have to put cream on your bum anyway, so come this way,” he held out his hand, and took you to his bedroom and had you lay on the bed on your belly. He left for a quick second, and then he was back and lifted the robe up and spread your cheeks open with one of his hands, your puckered hole tensing from the cool air.

“Master...”

He hummed, and a cold finger glopped with something rubbed over your hole, dipping inside just so in order to curl and rub. He did this for a few seconds and then his finger was gone. “Good, that’ll help you feel better.”

You turned your head, and then decided to just roll over on your back. He came over to kiss your nose, and you swiped at his face with your tongue playfully, catching his chin. You felt warm and soft and floaty from the last hour of sex time and bathing, or it could have been longer or shorter, you were not totally sure.

“Playful Kitten,” he teased. Then your stomach growled. He giggled. “Hungry Kitten, too. It is dinner time.”

He frowned a second later, and sat on the bed next to you, grabbed his phone and started texting. You leaned over to see him messaging Beel for food. You whined. “Can I have sweets?”

“After dinner, lovely. We can all have some cake that Barbatos made.”

Your ears perked up. “Barb made cake?” your stomach growled louder, and your cheeks reddened.

Asmo cooed. “He came by while we we’re in the bath to drop it off. I'm not sure why or what it was for, but it looks good. And Beel promised to save some for you.”

There was a knock on the door, and Beel peeked in after Asmo gave the okay to come inside. He held a plate of food, steaming and aromatic. His eyes ran over you, and he seemed satisfited with what he saw and stepped in fully.

“None for me?” Asmo blinked, but he had a small smile on his face.

Beel frowned. “Sorry, I only brought food for Kitten.”

Asmo sighed. “That’s okay, I've been watching my figure lately anyway.”

Both your Master’s sat on either side of you, and took turns feeding you. It was nice. You leaned back against the soft pillows eventually and yawned.

Beel’s large hand went to your head, and he smiled. “You should sleep now after eating all that food. Your stomach isn’t as big as mine.”

You yawned again, and smiled sheepishly. “Yes, Master. Can I have a hug before bed?”

Beel grinned. He held you to his chest, smoshing you perfectly. He smelled like warm spices, and his hugs were some of your favorite hugs out of all your Masters’ because he was so big—muscles, you meant, not fat. He did work out, and you also liked to lick his sweat from his pecs or neck.

The red-headed demon kissed your forehead, humming. Then his lips pressed to your cheek, and slid over to your lips. You licked at them for a second, tasting him, but he didn’t let you in. That was okay, though.

“You get hugs and kisses, little kitty. Always,” Beel said, and he pet your wet hair from your ears and smiled.

Cheeks flushed, you reached up to peck his lips in one last kiss. “’night.”

Beel took the plates and turned at the door to smile at you, “Good night, Kitten. Sweet dreams.” He shut the door as he left.

Asmo wiggled on the bed and whined. “My turn for kisses now!”

You laughed. “Yes, Master,” you leaned over and gave him several kisses on his soft lips, and one on his nose, your fangs grazing ever so slightly.

“Kitty has such a lovely mouth,” he sighed.

You yawned, and reached for him. “Cuddle me?”

He did not hesitate. “How can I resist that face?”

He curled himself around you, his fingers went to your bare belly to rub circles, and it soothed your full stomach. His hair was wet at the ends and dripped on you, but you didn’t care. This was exactly where you wanted to be.

“Sleep tight, lovely,” Asmo whispered in your ear, right as you shut your eyes to enter dreamland.

#obey me fanfic #fanfiction #obey me #reader fanfiction #cat hybrid #hybrids #mail order kitten girl #female reader #obey me reader x everyone #my fics #ao3 link

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jenonctcity · 5 years ago

Text

Stepping Into The Moonlight

Charia Kingdom – Jeno

Smut, Fluff, Angst.

Fantasy!Au, Supernatural!Au

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Explicit Content, Graphic Sex, Unprotected Sex, Breeding Kink, Virginity Loss, Fighting.

Word Count: 13.3k

(All of this series links up. The timeline of the story runs in the order of the master list from top to bottom, Mark - Jisung. Each members part can be read as a stand-alone, but I would recommended reading all the parts in order so the story adds up.)

Charia Kingdom - A place that has equal amounts of sunshine and rain, hot and cold, rich and poor, and, humans and creatures that couldn’t be identified as that of human status. Ruled by the Lee family with a king whose cutthroat and unforgiving nature is feared by many. The poor not cared for by people who have everything, where disease takes the lives of those unfortunate enough to not have the funds to purchase medicine. A place where humans live among creatures many would find terrifying. It’s no secret that Vampires, Werewolves, Wizards, etc live amongst them like normal people. Unless you murder someone, you’re considered normal. Everyone lives their own lives, whether it be a happy life, or a sorrowful life…

Being the crown prince of Charia Kingdom was never something that worried Jeno. He was raised by his mother to smile when talked to, and to have a kind heart so that he would rule the kingdom differently to how his father had. At 16, he’s unexpectedly hit by a powerful curse after hearing a ruckus going on in the echoing halls of the castle. It flips his life around, his new status as a werewolf being a challenge he hates with all his heart. It turned the kingdoms sweetheart into an angry, brooding boy. Now 19, Jeno has learned how to control when he phases with the help of the remedies Mark brews for him. The only thing he can’t control is bursting into a gigantic wolf every time a negative emotion takes over his mind. No one apart from the workers of the castle know that he’s a wolf, it being kept a secret from the public. He runs in the forest in his wolf form calm him down, until he comes face to face with a rogue wolf who threatens his life with her piercing glare. After imprinting on each other, Jeno has to learn how to balance his new love, his duties as prince, his burning rage, and a secret that is revealed to him that changes his life once again.

“I’m your brother…” Renjun’s words had Jeno’s eyebrows furrowing, a mix of confusion and betrayal curdling in Jeno’s stomach. He couldn’t understand why Renjun was comparing himself to a brother since he was the one who had cursed him. Friends close enough to be labelled as brother’s don’t do that to each other. He’d clearly misunderstood Renjun’s words.

“No you’re not. We used to be like brothers, but not anymore. You ruined my life. So don’t use how close we used to be as a way of trying to get out of this because I want to hurt you so ba-” Jeno growled out but was interrupted by Renjun.

“No! Jeno you don’t understand!” He gripped at his shaggy hair in frustration, his eyes squeezing shut as he let out a long sigh. “We have the same father! We are brothers by blood! That’s why your father killed my mother because I found out about his big secret. I confronted him, and he killed her. I was on my way to murder him when you got in my way, that’s why you ended up the way you are now.” Jeno could feel the heat inside of him rising as Renjun, his apparent brother, talked. He didn’t know whether to believe him or not. But why would he lie? “I’m sorry Jeno…I never meant to do this to you.” Renjun’s voice turned soft in his sincerity, the girl behind him approaching him and taking his hand into her own. Jeno frowned as he watched them, jealous that Renjun was living a normal life despite what he did to Jeno’s. Jeno didn’t say anything, instead tried to focus on his breathing as it spiked, his chest rising and falling fast and his shoulders tensing up as he felt the wolf inside of him ready to take over. It felt like he needed to throw up, his knees shaking and his fingers trembling as the warmth spread from his stomach. The warmth turned into a gruelling pain that he had never gotten used to, it still hurt just as much as it had the first time that his body had ripped into a gigantic wolf.

“Renjun!” The girl beside him squealed, pulling Renjun back in fright as she saw how Jeno’s eyes turned from a deep brown to a glowing amber, identical to the ones she’d seen through the cabin just before Jeno had made his entrance. Watching Jeno change into a wolf made Renjun wince, a horrible feeling flooding his gut as he knew how this was his fault. One second Jeno was stood on two feet, the next he was stood on four. The changing process always made his mind go hazy as his instincts turned from human to wolf, but his mind remained the same. He still had the same thoughts and opinions, and he remembered who he was. He was just more likely to fight and hurt someone with his wolf instinct. He briefly thought back to the way that Mark’s girlfriend had looked at him with the same fear in her eyes that Jeno could see in Renjun’s girlfriend and it made him sick that he had that impact on people he didn’t want to harm.

“Jeno, I beg you…you can hurt me but please don’t touch her.” Renjun’s voice wavered as he held his hands up in surrender. Jeno squeezed his eyes shut and let out a low growl, thoughts flying around his head but not even one of those thoughts were to harm the woman stood beside his brother. It hurt Jeno that everyone immediately thought he was going to intentionally harm them when he turned into a wolf involuntarily because of his emotions. It caused his heart to ache. He had never been an aggressive person until he had to live with the cards he’d been dealt. Deep down he was still the soft, kind, warm-hearted Prince his mother had raised him to be. He just found it hard to overcome the constant burn of angst and anger he felt towards his condition and lack of normality on his life. It led him to feel the heavy cloud of depression over his head that he struggled to cope with, especially when everyone he knew was so cautious around him now. His paw raised to step towards the pair, and as he did, a scuffle of leaves and snapping twigs caused his ears to perk up. But before he could look towards the sound, a wolf skidded to a stop on the mud in front of him, putting herself between him and the couple. Her teeth bared and her emerald eyes glowed as they narrowed at him. He could tell she was a female purely from her scent, which was a lot sweeter than any of the male wolves he’d come across.

“Snowy!” Renjun’s eyes widened as he addressed the wolf. Jeno was slightly confused, as he hadn’t smelt any nearby wolves, but he pinned it down to him before distracted by his own head to even notice his senses. The wolf in front of him was considerably smaller than his large frame, her fur as white as snow and he could see why they called her Snowy. She smelt different to all the other wolves that Jeno had encountered before, her scent not making his nose crinkle in disgust from the earthy scent he usually smelt around wolves. Not that he’d met many other wolves, and when he did, they’d simply ignore him in passing and respect each other’s boundaries. But she smelt like the sweet flowers he’d only ever smelt inside of the castles garden because they didn’t grow in the wild, his nose raising slightly in the air as he sniffed to smell the scent deeper. He smelt the undertone of what he remembered to be rain when it hit trees. The fresh scent sitting happily against his nose and making his head tilt in confusion.

You stared at Jeno with narrowed eyes, keeping your teeth bared at him to show him that you wouldn’t allow him to get close to the only human’s you could trust. You kept a low growl vibrating from your throat, but it didn’t seem to be affecting him as he continued to stare at you non-threateningly for a few minutes. You’d been watching the interaction from the safety of the brush, keeping low so that your appearance would come as a surprise to him. You saw how he turned into a wolf, and his scent surprisingly stayed identical to the warm smell of something you couldn’t quite identify instead of the smell of dirt and wet dog that you usually smelt around male wolves. You stayed low as you growled at him, ready to pounce at him at any moment to protect Renjun and his love who you still didn’t know the name of, despite how much smaller than him you were.

Jeno snapped out of his reverie, feeling a strange pull to you but not knowing what it meant, so he lowered himself, copying your stance and baring his teeth at you too. When you didn’t back off despite smelling the pheromones he was now emitting as he tried to assert his dominance in being a large male over you, he barked, trying to make you feel threatened. Your heart was racing, not wanting to act on the pull you felt. It was as if gravity was trying to push you to him, but you didn’t want to admit the inkling you had in your brain as to what it could be. You weren’t scared of him, you’d fought plenty of other wolves in your lifetime, ones who were purebred wolf and others who were a human and wolf mix like yourself and the wolf stood in front of you.

“Snowy don’t!” Renjun shouted as you lunged at the wolf you remembered as Jeno, as you’d heard Renjun call him. Your teeth latched onto his neck, not penetrating the skin but gripping onto him as you stayed latching onto him. You weren’t big enough to knock his heavy frame over, but you used all your strength in fighting him. He thrashed around, trying to rid his body of you without harming you. He didn’t want to fight, but it was in his natural instincts to protect himself. So you found yourself tumbling with him in a mix of white and black fur into the dense trees. He threw you off of him, but that didn’t stop you. Your claws dug into the earth as you jumped at him again, he jumped at you at the same time and you felt your body hit a tree trunk hard from how you ricocheted off his strong body. He pinned you down to the floor, his mouth caging your neck to the floor as he tried to control you in his act of self-defence. You stopped moving, knowing you had been defeated because of the size difference, waiting until he pulled away and backed off, his body still in a defensive stance, his claws making marks in the soil from how hard he was gripping the floor as he stared at you.

You stayed laying on the floor as you caught your breath. Jeno felt the need to rub his head against you and help you up, but he didn’t know you, and he most definitely wasn’t going to attempt to do that after you attacked him. You wanted nothing more than for him to nuzzle your face and lick at all the cuts that stained your white fur a royal red, but you also wanted him to stay away from you. The conflicted feelings you both felt dawned on you both at the same time.

You’d imprinted on each other.

You felt sick to your stomach as the fact you’d imprinted on someone and knew that your wolf would be restless forever until you both caved to the feelings and joined your souls in the way they wanted to merge. Jeno only knew of imprinting from books he’d read about werewolves, but he could easily diagnose it from the symptoms matching everything he remembered from the books. He never thought he’d feel the feelings he was feeling in that moment as he stared at your limp body. He was overjoyed, but worried. You knew one day you would find your ‘soulmate’, but you never expected it to be so soon, and certainly not in this kind of circumstance. You could remember the day that your brother imprinted on a human and left you to live alone in the woods when you were sixteen, opting to live in his human form to be with his love. You’d been alone since then, learning how to take care of yourself and struggling to resent your brother because you knew he couldn’t fight the burning desire his instincts thrust upon him.

You didn’t know what to do, so you jumped up. Standing on shaky legs for a moment before bolting off between the trees as fast as your four legs could carry you. You didn’t have to turn around to know that Jeno was hot on your heels. You could hear his heavy paws against the earth and the way he panted as he tried to keep up with your nimble body. He was catching up with you, his long legs giving him the advantage. But you knew the woods like the back of your hand, so you found it easy to dodge between trees and take sharp turns. Soon losing him amongst the trees, but you that didn’t stop you from running. You ran until you reached the cave that you used as your den, huddling against the wall, and staying in your wolf form in case he followed your scent and suddenly popped up out of nowhere.

Jeno mentally beat himself up at how easily you had escaped him. His mind was clouded over from the realisation at what had just happened. He decided to go back to the castle instead of going back to Renjun. He could deal with that another day now that he knew where Renjun was residing. He dragged his feet, sulking as he walked through the forest. He used the cover of the trees to make his way home, letting out a short howl that Jisung knew meant he was back home and needed some clothes before he could show himself. The younger boy opened the gate and rushed into the trees to Jeno, giving him some loose clothes so he could hide his modesty as he entered the castle.

Jeno went to sleep that night, knowing his life had just drastically changed once more.

---

The forest felt different to Jeno as he desperately sniffed at the floor, trying hard to pick up your scent that you’d left behind the day prior. In his mouth he held a bag of clothes, two pairs of clothes just in case he managed to find you, so that your first encounter with him as a human wouldn’t have to be naked. He’d been searching for hours, going in circles in his desperation to try and find you. Eventually he caught scent of what he remembered you to smell like, his ears pricking up and his nose twitching at the euphoria your scent had on him. He stood still for a moment, basking in the feeling that had overcome him, before his legs started moving, his body subconsciously following the scent as it became stronger.

The scent took him to a stream, the shallow water hitting the rocks on the bed of the meandering water and making a comforting sound. He crept up quietly, making sure his paws hardly touched the floor so that his footsteps remained silent. He could see your white fur through the trees, your feet submerged in the flowing water and your head bowed, staring at your own reflection. He dropped the bag, changing to his human form and hurrying to put on his loose white shirt and baggy tan pants. He took a deep breath in anticipation, slowly appearing from the trees and holding his hands up in surrender. He cleared his throat to gain your attention, and your head flicked up immediately. You backed off, crossing to the other side of the stream and lowering your body to the ground in caution. You had only seen his face from the side, and even then, you didn’t see it very clearly. So his beautifully handsome face was enough to take your breath away. He had a strong jawline, kissable pouty lips, and wide eyes that were staring at you with a soft look.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” His voice was deep, and you were trying so desperately to ignore the invisible rope that felt like it was tugging you towards him by your heart. “I think we got off to a bad start, my name is Jeno…” His eyes stayed on you as you visibly relaxed but didn’t make any effort to approach him. He gulped as he thought about his next words. “Are you like me? Or do you only have your wolf form?” He desperately wanted you to tell him that you were like him. If you weren’t and only had your wolf form, then he knew that his wolf would never be fully satisfied unless he was with you all the time, which would mean living as a wolf permanently, something he didn’t want to do, nor could do as he still had the responsibility of being a prince sitting on his shoulders. When you turned away from him and walked between the trees, he felt his heart sink and his shoulders drop in disappointment. But when he saw a small hand wrap around a tree trunk and a pair of glowing emerald green eyes, the same as your wolf, he felt his heart flutter. The only way you could tell if a person was born with the ability to turn into a wolf was if their eyes stayed the same colour in human form as they were in wolf form. If they were born as a normal human but had been cursed, their eyes would return to normal colour in their human form. “Hey…” He smiled, but as he took a step forward you hid behind the tree again. “I won’t hurt you; I promise…take this.” He crossed the stream, his feet getting wet, but he didn’t care. He then balled up the cotton dress in his hands and threw it, so that it landed by your feet. You pulled it over your head and let the white material fall down to your knees. You stepped out from behind the tree, finally showing Jeno all of yourself now that you weren’t naked.

After taking your first step, you felt your knees buckle, your hands about to come in contact with the grass but Jeno had stepped forward and caught you just in time. “Are you okay?” He sounded worried, his voice soft and his grip on your hips firm. You looked up at him with wide eyes, nodding to him when you opened your mouth, but no noise came out. He looked into your eyes, his heart pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears and his mouth going dry. His touch felt warm and you felt the need to curl up in his hold and never let go. “I heard them call you Snowy, is that your name?” You shook your head, clearing your throat and opening your mouth once more.

“My name is (Y/N).” Your voice was as pure as freshly laid snow, it sending a ripple up Jeno’s spine and he smiled widely. If he didn’t have wolf senses, then he wouldn’t have heard you, your voice so quiet that it couldn’t even be classed as a whisper. You hadn’t been in your human form in over a year, so your human body felt stiff and weak. Your voice not warmed up and your limbs shaky.

“Beautiful…” He murmured subconsciously and then felt his cheeks heating up at his confession. “So, I’m assuming you’ve realised that we’ve imprinted on each other…” You nodded at his statement, his hands still gripping at your hips more softly, feeling an odd satisfaction that he’d never felt before as he held you. His body felt strong, your hands placed timidly on his broad shoulders and you stared at his lips as he talked.

“Mhm.” You made a quiet noise and nodded your head.

“Come back to the castle with me.” He phrased it as a command, not a question. You tilted your head in confusion and raised an eyebrow.

“Castle?” Your voice was getting louder as you spoke, it sounding almost normal but still as gentle as a cloud.

“I’m the Prince of this Kingdom, I live in the castle, and I want you to come back with me. We can get to know each other, because either way neither of us will be happy if we’re apart.” You pulled away from him after he finished speaking. It made his stomach sink and he reached out to you, but you took another step back. You furrowed your eyebrows and shook your head. You didn’t want to leave the forest; it was were you grew up and all you knew. Of course you’d spent time with humans in the town, but you hadn’t been there for long periods of time, always ending up in the forest with your family where you preferred. You were also shocked that he was a Prince. Of all the people you could have imprinted on, you thought it was typical that you imprinted on someone who would have a difficult life.

“I don’t want to leave the forest…” You shook your head, watching as his face darkened, his eyebrows knitting together and mouth parting almost as if in disgust. It was clear to you that he was used to getting his own way as soon as he demanded it.

“Why? You could live a life of luxury and never have to worry about anything again!” His voice was louder, and it had an aggressive undertone to it as he got irritated at your refusal. You took another step back, your own face hardening as you tried to show that he didn’t scare you.

“I don’t want that. I don’t even know you. Back off.” Your eyes started to glow, as did Jeno’s. His soft brown eyes turning amber as his emotions got to him. He was upset that you didn’t comply to his wants. His sadness always turning into anger as he had no control of his emotions.

“We’re meant to be!” He growled, feeling his hands start to shake and his shoulders tensing up.

“Go away!” You shouted at him, turning away and about to start running off, but your legs couldn’t handle it and you fell to the floor, your body thudding against the grass. Jeno gasped, his eyes dimming back to brown and all of his anger flooding off of him like he’d been hit by a wave of freezing cold water.

“(Y/N)!” He rushed to you, scooping you up into his arms and holding you to him. You felt a burst of tingles inside of your stomach, his scent flooding your senses and making your pupils dilate. You gripped onto him and nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck like you’d been wanting to since you’d met him the day before. You took in a deep breath, your nose trailing against his skin and you felt the overwhelming urge to sink your teeth into his neck, marking him as yours. All of your previous anger and resistance turning into lust and want. It was what your wolf and instincts wanted, and you couldn’t control it.

“Jeno.” You moaned, licking a stripe up his neck, and nipping at his warm skin. He moaned lowly, dropping down to his knees and laying you on the floor in front of him. His eyes were nearly black from how dilated his pupils had gone, staring down at you like you were a meal he was about to devour. He didn’t know how to control himself, never having felt the need to claim someone as his own. He felt his cock harden the second you licked his neck, then the smell of your arousal hit his nose, he got stiffer, grinding his crotch against your own. “Take me.” You whimpered, tugging the cotton dress up so that your lower half was completely bare in front of him. You knew about how feral wolves could be once they found their mate, but you’d never expected the pull you felt towards him to be as great as what it was. You wanted nothing more than for him to bury himself inside of you and claim you as his. On the other hand, you didn’t want him to touch you because then you’d not be able to leave him, and you’d end up going with him to the castle, which you didn’t want to do. But your wolf senses were beating your human senses. Jeno stared down at your dripping core, his mouth watering at the sight and he felt less human than he’d ever felt before, wanting to completely destroy you but knowing he shouldn’t because he was raised to respect women.

The two of you completely disregarded your hesitance, looking into each other’s eyes as they almost glowed with desire and want. Jeno pushed down his baggy pants, his cock harder than he’d ever witnessed it to be. It was a violent red and looked like it was going to explode with cum at any second. You bit your bottom lip so hard that you got the bitter metallic taste of blood on your tongue as you watched him take his cock in his hand. It looked so big that you wanted to drag your tongue over it and taste him, but you couldn’t push the desire away to have him inside of you, so that would have to wait. Jeno’s human side couldn’t believe how fast this was happening. He’s supposed to be the sophisticated, eloquent Prince of the Kingdom who’s supposed to marry a Princess and rule the Kingdom one day. But instead he’s about to lose his virginity on the dirty floor of the forest to a girl he’s known a day who lives a rogue life.

He pushed his cock into you once the shiver up his spine caused his body to move without his brain working. You let out a loud moan that sounded almost like a howl, your fingers gripping at the ground, your nails digging into the dirt as your back arched up into Jeno’s touch. Jeno’s jaw dropped open, his breath being ripped from his lungs as he gripped your hips tightly. You looked up at Jeno, noticing his eyes were almost black, the lust swimming around behind his dark irises as he started to thrust his cock into you at an almost inhuman speed. You’d never had sex before, but your body was made to take your mates length and your core stretched perfectly to his size. You whimpered as he lowered his body over the top of your own, his lips finding purchase on your neck. You wound your arms around his back, digging your nails into his damp skin and dragging them down, leaving bright red trails behind. He bit your neck suddenly, a scream leaving your lips as you started to roll your hips up into his thrusts. His teeth broke your skin, and he left his mark on your skin, claiming you as his own. You felt like if he pulled away from you at all, you’d die from loneliness. His lips pressed rough kisses to the mark he’d left, tracing his tongue over the mark to heal it.

A rustling coming from between the trees behind your head caused Jeno to stop. He looked up, sniffing at the air, and letting out a low growl, it rumbling from his throat as his eyes scanned the trees. The sound stopped, then sounded again further away as if something was retreating after hearing Jeno’s warning. His eyes quickly flicked to you instead and he leaned in, capturing your lips with his own, pushing his tongue into your mouth and exploring it as his hips started to move again. Your silky walls sucked his cock in, squeezing over him as it felt like he was made for you, it not feeling painful despite it being your first time. He moaned into your mouth, his hips slamming into yours harder as you felt like the universe was inside of you and it was about to explode, a completely unfamiliar feeling washing over you as your orgasm washed through you like a red hot fire. You clung onto Jeno, not wanting to let go of him as hot ropes of cum shot from his cock inside of you, coating your walls as his head fell to the crook of neck. He relaxed on top of you, the bliss of his orgasm and being in your arms was making him feel lightheaded. You tried to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling as you held each other in your arms. His cock softened but he left it inside of you, not being able to let go of you.

“I’ll come back with you.” You whispered against his hair, placing a kiss to your mate’s head as his grip on you tightened. The thought of him going back to his home, the castle, and leaving you behind made your heart tear at the seams. You couldn’t let go of him, and you had a feeling it was something to do with the mark he’d left on your neck.

“Thank you. You’ll be treated like a princess, I promise.” His words echoed around your head as your eyes slowly closed, exhaustion from changing into a human and being so close to your mate causing you to pass out underneath him.

---

Living in a palace felt odd. You were completely out of your comfort zone, and it had only been two days. The only thing keeping you from running back to your home in the forest was the tie you felt to Jeno. You knew your wolf would go crazy if you were to leave Jeno behind. It still felt strange living in your human form, but you knew there was no way you could be a wolf inside of the castle grounds. Jeno hadn’t left you alone, and he pretty much always had his hands on you, rubbing your skin affectionately and burying his face in your neck or hair. The night you’d gotten back to the castle, Jeno had taken you to his bedroom. You’d never seen a bedroom before, and Jeno’s was huge, the bed feeling soft against your naked back as Jeno fucked you for hours, the both of you getting a feel for each other’s bodies. You hadn’t spoken much, the majority of your relationship being your physical need for each other. All you knew was he’s the Prince of the Kingdom and first in line for the throne.

You stood in front of a full-length mirror; your hair pulled around your shoulder, so it was out of the way for Jeno to lace up your dress from behind. A maid had tried to lace up your dress, but Jeno had stared at her with eyes that could kill and hastily dismissed her when he realised he couldn’t deal with watching someone else be so close to you. You stared at the baby blue material as it brushed against the floor, the silk shining against the natural light as it flooded into the room from the large window. Jeno’s fingers nimbly laced up your dress, his eyes occasionally darting from the back of your dress to stare at your face in the mirror. He was completely in awe of your beauty, and he couldn’t help but want to drag your body over to the bed behind you both and make you so wet that he could lick up your thighs to bury his tongue in your heat like he really wanted to. His eyes started to glow amber as his lust swam through him. You could smell his arousal and cleared your throat.

“Will your parents like me?” You spoke quietly, fiddling with your hair and looking at Jeno through the mirror. Jeno snapped out of his daydream, tying the material in a bow and wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, settling his chin on your shoulder.

“My mother will…My father probably won’t, but don’t worry about it princess.” His voice was quiet like your own, and he smiled, placing a wet kiss to your cheek.

“I’m not a princess yet.” You turned you head, your lips brushing against his plush ones as he let out a gentle laugh.

“You’re my princess.”

“We’ve only known each other for a few days…” You couldn’t help the slight hesitance you felt, everything overwhelming you.

“It doesn’t matter, we were meant for each other. I am a prince, so that means you are my princess.” His words caused you to shudder, and he pressed his lips to your own. You wanted to pull away from his searing kiss, but you couldn’t find it within you to drag your lips from his. His arms tightened around your waist, his tongue pushing into your mouth as his fingers gripped at the material on your body.

“Mmm!” You moaned into his mouth but quickly pulled away. “You’ll rip it!” You pushed his hands away and stepped back, noticing his eyes were glowing amber like they did every time he got aroused. He walked back towards you with the lust swimming in his eyes, his hands reaching out for you, but you backed off. “No, we have to meet your parents!” He didn’t seem to be listening though, as he backed you up to the wall and brought your lips back to his own. His kiss was rough and had your stomach dropping at how it made you felt, his arousal sparking up your own. But someone had to take control and you had a feeling that Jeno couldn’t. “Stop.” You growled against his lips, his own breaking from yours.

“Okay.” He complied easier than you thought he would, his head nodding up and down like a submissive dog. “Let’s go.” He brushed the creases that he’d made out of your dress, laying a gentle kiss on your lips that was a complete contrast to his previous kisses. He took your hand in his and guided you through the palace, greeting random members of staff as you travelled around. He stopped in front of big, oak doors that you assumed his parents were behind. “It’s okay.” He pushed the doors open and his eyes locked immediately on his parents, trying to gauge their reaction from afar and taking a deep breath to calm his own nerves. He could feel your anxiety rolling off of you and it was making him feel sick, the negative emotion admitting off of you making him want you out of the room and to protect you from how you were feeling. You glanced at his parents, your eyes shifting from the evil stare of his father to the soft gaze of his mother. He placed his hand on your lower back and guided you further into the room, following the royal red carpet up towards the solid gold thrones his parents were perched on.

The queen was wearing a beautiful dress, it was a deep emerald green that brought out her natural beauty, her hair flowing in curls down her shoulders, with a golden crown perched on top of her head. She looked kind, but you’d learnt throughout your years that looks could be deceiving. The king on the other hand, looked at you with a stare that could kill. You couldn’t deny that he was handsome. He looked a lot like Jeno, but with signs of aging and his black hair greying underneath his crown.

“What is the meaning of this Jeno?” The king spoke before you’d even finished approaching them. You heard Jeno let out a sigh from beside you, the both of you coming to a stop at the stairs leading up to the thrones. “I do not approve of this.”

“Father please ju-”

“Is she a wolf?”

“How would you kn-”

“Is she a wolf?!” His father’s voice raised in dominance.

“She is…You don’t understand, I can’t control who I love, because of my…condition. You have no choice but to accept it. Besides, I didn’t come here for your approval, I simply came here to introduce the future princess of the kingdom to you. Charia Kingdom will be lucky to have her as a member of the royal family.” Jeno’s voice was strong through his speech to his parents, his confidence in your relationship making your heart flutter. The queen had a smile on her face, and you immediately knew that you wanted to know more about her. Your own mother hadn’t ever been maternal towards you, and as soon as you could fend for yourself, she had left you and your older brother alone in the forest. So you hoped that she could feel the void your mother left.

“Jeno, I will not allow this!” His father’s voice started to raise and his face hardened.

“You have no choice!” Jeno’s voice rose to compete with his father. You could feel the anger radiating off of Jeno and you moved your hand to grip gently at his bicep, wordlessly telling him to calm down.

“I can assure you that I do.” The king’s voice lowered dangerously, and it sent shivers down your spine, your breath catching in your throat as you thought about all of the bad things that man could potentially do to you and your mate. “Don’t make a decision you’ll regret.”

“If anything happens to me, or her, then you won’t have an heir to the throne. That’s right, you’ll let your family bloodline lose the throne. Because you already got rid of one of your sons, didn’t you?” Jeno’s lips curled into a smirk, his eyes narrowing at his father. The kings face faltered before he quickly recovered his hard look, it looking harder than ever. “That’s right, I know about what happened with Renjun. You’re the reason I have this curse, so you’re the reason I am marrying a wolf like myself. Get used to it.” He snapped, grabbing your hand and dragging you from the room with long strides, causing you to jog after him so that you could keep up.

“Jeno, calm down.” Your voice was soft, but it fell on deaf ears as Jeno took you through the palace to your shared bedroom. His hand was shaking in your grip, and you could hear his heart pounding in his chest. You smelt the odd smell of arousal, your eyes widening at how he was horny in a moment like this. “Jeno!” He pushed you into the bedroom, slamming the wooden door shut so hard that it almost came off of its hinges, the wood shaking against the frame. He forced you up against the wall, and you knew if you were average like a human, he probably would have broken your back from how hard he shoved you. You let out a whimper which fell into his mouth as his lips smashed to your own. His teeth bit at your bottom lip, tugging at it before sucking it into his mouth. His hands sat on your waist as your hands came to rest on his shoulders, feeling the tension of his anger underneath your fingertips. The kiss was filthy and left you almost dripping down your thighs, your legs almost quivering at the need to feel his cock inside of you, filling you up perfectly how he had been since you’d met.

“You’re dripping for me already aren’t you baby girl?” He growled into your mouth, his fingertips gripping at your silk dress so tightly that the material ripped underneath his hold. You felt dizzy under his hold, his ministrations causing your hormones to rage around your body like a blazing fire. The fogginess of your head meant you’d missed when he lifted your body and threw you onto the bed like a ragdoll. He stood at the end of the bed, staring down at you with glowing amber eyes, his chest rising and falling fast as he tried to catch his breath, your scent making his head stir to the point where he couldn’t even think straight. You stared at him, feeling like prey underneath his flaming eyes. Crawling up the bed on his hands and knees had your legs automatically spreading, his body caging you against the bed as his lips came in contact with your chest. He’d tore your dress from your body, but you still had on your corset and panties.

“Jeno.” You moaned, his teeth nipping at the skin of your breasts as they bulged from the tightness of the corset.

“You smell so good, turn over.” Even though he instructed you to turn over, he didn’t give you a chance to, as he flipped you over and made quick work of the silk holding your corset together. His fingers were shaking so much from his eagerness to buried inside of you that he let out a dangerous growl, forgetting about untying the rest of your corset, pushing your body into mattress and shredding the material of your panties to get access to your soaking pussy. Your face smashed into the soft pillows, your hands laying against the mattress as you pushed your ass back into Jeno’s crotch. Jeno rid himself of his clothes, throwing them to the floor as if they were nothing but cheap rags as he buried his cock inside of you fast. He was in a complete trance of sex and need. You still had your corset on, but Jeno decided it didn’t matter anymore now that he had you where he needed you.

“Jeno,” You felt like the corset was constricting your body like one of the lethal snakes you’d came in contact with many of times throughout your life in the forest. Jeno was thrusting his hips at a fast pace, his cock hitting your insides at the perfect angle and making your eyes roll into the back of your head from the euphoric feeling bursting throughout your nervous system. “take it off of me!” You still weren’t used to wearing clothes, and it was the first time you’d ever experienced something as uncomfortable as a corset. You didn’t understand why women would want to wear something so horrid just to get a specific shape to their body. Humans really did confuse you. When he made no effort to pull the corset off of you, you felt yourself start to freak out. “GET IT OFF OF ME!” You screamed, pushing back against Jeno, and letting out another moan from his cock working wonders inside of you. He stopped thrusting when the scent of fright wafted through his air and infiltrated his senses.

“Okay, calm down my love.” He pulled your body from his own, gently pushing you back to be pressed against the bed as his used his strength to rip the silk holding the corset together, his biceps bulging. He plucked the corset out from underneath your chest and tossed it to the floor. “You’re okay, I wouldn’t let anything ever hurt you. It’s just material.” He understood why you freaked out. Whenever he was in his wolf form in the forest, he felt like the rural areas of the kingdom didn’t exist, and he became accustomed to forest life, so he empathised with how you were trying to adjust. You’d lived in the forest your entire lift and knew nothing else, so Jeno could understand why you would freak out over something as small as a piece of material too tight around your chest. You let out a sigh of relief and melted into his hold, his lips pressing soft kisses to your shoulder as his hips rolled into yours in a slower pace. You pushed back into his thrusts, your eyes drifting shut as his pace picked up again, the sound of skin slapping against skin and your sopping walls sucking him in perfectly, echoing around the room and making the heat of the room rise.

“Jenoooo.” You whined as he wrapped his arms around your body, lifting you to be pressed against his strong chest as cock hit new angles inside of you. You gripped onto his hands with yours, your nails digging into his skin so hard that blood trickled down onto the sheets underneath you. Jeno reacted by burying his face into your neck, breathing in your scent, and licking his hot tongue over the permanent mark he’d made on your neck the day you first made love.

“Mine.” He growled, and when his teeth nipped at his claiming mark, your orgasm washed over you with such a euphoric feeling that your body shuddered in his tight hold. Lightning struck behind your eyelids as you bathed in the bliss of the feeling of Jeno’s affection. You felt so sleepy from your high that you went limp in his hold, your head lolling back onto his shoulder as he tensed up. “Going to fill you up.”” His teeth nipped at your earlobe as his voice grumbled lowly, his words causing a small whimper to leave your lips at the thought of his seed spilling inside of you. “You’ll look so fucking beautiful when you’re carrying my baby, the future king or queen of this kingdom.” You knew he didn’t mean his words, well at least not at the moment. It was well known that wolves had a keen need to mate with each other, especially when it was nearing a full moon, the need to continue on with the wolf bloodline and nurture your own babies was so overwhelming sometimes that you could cry from the want of being a mother. But other times you could gag at the sight of children, them being your worst nightmare. Jeno had expressed his want for children only a handful of the times that you’d been intimate, but had made sure to tell you when his head wasn’t swimming with lust that he was happy to wait until you were officially married to start making babies. It was lucky that you were only fertile a handful of days every other month, the wolf breeding different to humans and other species, and you hadn’t experienced any of those days since having met Jeno, so you knew you were in the all clear of pregnancy.

The two of you fell flat on the bed, his breath ghosting over your neck as he panted to catch his breath. He let out a soft laugh and circled his hips into yours once more, eliciting a little mewl from your parted lips and a smile to tug on your lips. He stayed inside of you as he rearranged you both so that you were laying on top of him, your head buried in his chest as your nails scratched lightly at his skin.

“My little princess caused some damage.” Jeno held his wounded hand up to assess the damage that you’d done. It was only weeping with blood now because wolves tended to heal slightly faster than humans. You stared at it and then flicked your eyes back to his own adoring eyes.

“I can cause more damage than that if you get on the wrong side of me.” Jeno let out a loud laugh at your words, his hand coming down to lay on your lower back, the stir of affection pooling inside of you as you stared at his angelic features. His lips were a vibrant red from the abuse your lips had inflicted on them, his hair messy and cheeks tinged pink, the afterglow of sex looking divine on him.

“Get some sleep.” He whispered, his hand trailing with a featherlight touch up your back to play with your hair. You relaxed in his hold, feeling incredibly tired and needing to shut down. “Please don’t worry about anything that happened today with my father, you know you have my protection and forever my love. Rest well my angel.” His soothing voice was enough to have you passed out within minutes.

---

It was a few days later, early in the morning when the sun had hardly begun to make it’s ascent in the sky when Jeno woke up, sensing something was wrong. The heaviness he should have felt of you tucked up against his chest was missing, making him alert with panic striking through his veins. He gulped, his chest starting to rise and fall fast as his senses heighted, his palms sweating and his throat feeling like it was closing up. It felt like his head was being held underneath water as his hearing and sight started to blur, his own voice echoing around his head as he sprung up. He grabbed the nearest clothes he could find, throwing on the loose baby blue shirt and black trousers as his legs carried him out of his room. He paused, taking in a deep breath to try and pinpoint your scent, his lungs feeling like they were burning from the weak scent of your body that he could pick up.

“(Y/N)!!!” He bellowed through the echoing halls of the palace, his legs carrying him as fast they possibly could. People started to emerge from the rooms, concerned expressions marred on their faces as they watched the prince stumble down the hall, his body slick with sweat and his skin pale.

“Jeno!” Once Jeno heard the familiar voice of the castle’s wizard, Mark, he turned towards the source of the voice. “Jeno what’s going on?!” He grabbed Jeno as he about to run past him, stopping the panicked prince and holding him firmly by the shoulders.

“I-I don’t know where (Y/N) is.” He stuttered out, gulping down the lump in his throat to allow the air to flow through to his wheezing lungs.

“We’ll find her! Calm down, you know it’s not good for you to get worked up.” He didn’t want to verbally remind Jeno of the time he’d injured Mark’s significant other from getting worked up, but Jeno got the hint. “Can you track her scent?” Jeno nodded, the heat in his body making him lightheaded.

“It’s weak.”

“Track her.” Mark urged him, giving him a gentle push forward. Jeno gulped down his emotions, trying to get your taste on his tongue as he looked at his surroundings. He felt the burning inside of him before he could stop it, and his body suddenly erupted into his wolf form. He sniffed the air, your scent completely overtaking his head and causing his legs to take off before he could even think about it. It was as if he could see your scent, the only colour through his black and white vision sitting above the floor like a vibrant mist. His journey took him through the castle grounds, all the way to the gate. Jisung saw Jeno approaching and had opened the gate, letting Jeno run through as fast as he could. He could feel his heart in his chest, the adrenaline pumping through him like a spark on a trail of gunpowder. Your scent got stronger. He knew he was getting close. But seeing your body hidden behind a pile of barrels on the outskirts of the forest had him changing into a human faster than he ever had. You were peeking over a barrel, staring at the town folk as they went about their normal business. He didn’t care that he was barer than the day he was born as he ran up behind you and pulled your body against his own, your back hitting his chest so hard you let out a grunt.

“I thought you were gone.” He whispered into your neck, his lips scaling over your skin as his hands ran over your body, checking for any injuries. “Never do that again.” He held onto you tightly, relishing in your body heat and scent. You relaxed into his touch, your eyes never leaving the scene in front of you though. Jeno sighed, looking up and following your gaze. “What are you looking at?”

“My brother.” You mumbled, pointing at the tall man stood with a petite lady that had a child sat on her hip. Jeno’s eyes followed your finger and his grip softened on you. “I want to go home.” You turned in his hold, burying your head into his chest and letting out a soft sigh.

“Okay baby.” The trip back to the castle was slow. You both phased into your wolf forms and took a slow run home. It still felt strange for you to call the palace your home, but you knew you had to look to the future and stop dwelling on the past. When you got back into the castle grounds the both of you changed back into your human forms and were met by Mark, who gave you clothes to change into. After you were both dressed, Jeno took your hand into his tightly and directed you back to your shared bedroom, sitting you on the bed and taking his place beside you.

Silences ensued between you both for a few minutes, Jeno waiting for you to speak up first, but you just stared at your hand linked with his own. His hand was considerably larger than your own and fit perfectly in yours. You took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before starting to tell him your story. “My mother left me and my brother when we were young. It was just the two of us alone in the forest until we took a trip to the town. He met a girl, fell in love, and told me that he was going to live his life as a human. He left me alone and today was the first time I’d seen him since he left five years ago.” Your eyes drifted up Jeno’s arm to eventually settle on his face. He was staring at your hands until he noticed that you had started looking at his face. He stared you straight in the eye and gave you a sad smile. “I couldn’t help myself. Now that I live as a human most of the time, I knew I had to see him.”

“You traced his scent?” Jeno asked even though he knew the answer already. You nodded, confirming his suspicions. “You remembered his scent five years later?”

“He’s my only family Jeno, of course I remembered it.” You leaned in, laying your head against his shoulder which took him slightly by surprise. It was often him who had to initiate all displays of affection between the two of you, as you sometimes felt strange putting all of your love into him.

“I’m your family.”

“You’re my mate, there’s a difference.”

“We’ll make our own family.” Jeno moved you around so that his lips were pressed to your neck, his mouth parted and his tongue darting out to trail around in circles on your skin.

“Jeno you never told me your story.” You felt his hand land on your thigh, his fingers slowly massaging at your skin as his tongue pressed harder to your neck.

“You smell so good.” He clearly wasn’t listening, letting his hormones take over his brain to fog up his subconsciousness.

“Jeno.” You said sternly, ignoring the fire that he was causing to ignite in your stomach from the strong scent of hormones he was emitting. He growled into your neck before drawing away from you, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as his eyes scanned your bedroom.

“My father fucked the witch, had Renjun as an illegitimate child that he hid from everyone, until Renjun’s mother told him, Renjun then confronted the king and the king had his mother killed, and then he tried to attack my father. Long story short, I got in the way and ended up being cursed as a wolf until I die. My father had a bounty put on Renjun’s head after Renjun ran away, and you saw me find out about the truth on the day that we met. Any questions?” He licked his bottom lip as he turned his head to stare at you. You gulped as you took in the information, your eyes wide at the drama that had gone on in the castle whilst you were living your life in the forest. It suddenly occurred to you that if Jeno hadn’t been cursed, then he would never have wolf instincts and you wouldn’t have been mates, so in a way you were glad that it had happened, even if you felt horrible selfish for feeling that way.

“Do you regret that it happened?” You leaned in, placing a timid kiss to his parted lips.

“No, it brought me to you…can I put my babies in you now?” He almost growled, dipping his head and running his tongue up your neck, his hormones and wolf instincts fogging up his head so much that he couldn’t supress his need for you. You knew that he didn’t mean his words, but the impending full moon had a huge influence on his instincts, and his head wasn’t thinking before his mouth was talking. You knew that it would be down to you to stop the baby making happening, because males suffer from the influence of the moon worse than females do. You took a deep breath, trying desperately not to succumb to his pleas, but before you could answer, the door swung open and hit the wall. You both glanced up fast, and you could feel the anger and annoyance radiating off of Jeno as he looked to see who had interrupted you.

“Prince Je-” Mark started; his eyes wide as Jeno cut him off with an annoyed bark.

“What?!”

“The King wants you. Now.” Mark’s face looked pale, and his eyes were wide, like he was afraid of something. You tilted your head, furrowing your eyebrows and looking to Jeno.

“Stay here.” He wasn’t asking you; he was telling you, and you didn’t want to piss him off when he was already on edge from the moon.

“He wants to see you both.” Mark gave you a lopsided smile almost as if he was silently apologising. Jeno visibly tensed, his nostrils flaring and his jaw clenching as he tried to suppress his anger.

“Fine.” He gently took your hand, a complete juxtaposition to how his actual mood was, and held onto it tightly as Mark lead you both through the castle halls. You noticed that Mark had his wand in his hand, which caused your head to tilt in confusion. In the whole time you’d been at the castle, you hadn’t once seen Mark use his wand or even have it in his hand as if he was ready to use it, and you’d seen Mark nearly every day of the short amount of time you’d been living there. You narrowed your eyes and stopped dead, feeling Jeno gently tug on your arm as he also stopped, glancing at you in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Something’s not right.” You had a bad feeling in your gut, and you gulped, trying to fight the inner urge to run and leave the castle. You smelt something suddenly and quickly turned around as if whatever it was were behind you. You glanced around and felt the air leave your lungs in shock as you realised the smell. It was a smell you’d smelt many times in the forest, and it sent shivers down your spine, now it made sense as to why you couldn’t see anything. “There’s a demon in the castle…I can smell it.” Your words had Jeno’s eyebrows knitting together in confusion as he sniffed the air. He narrowed his eyes and shook his head, pulling you firmly. Demons were one of the only creatures of the night that shook you to the core. You knew how dangerous they could be, and even being in the vicinity of one was making you cling onto your mate.

“There isn’t, come on.” You highly doubted Jeno even knew what a demon smelt like, but you weren’t about to argue with him, especially as his grip on your hand became a lot tighter, signalling that even you were starting to irritate him. You both walked after Mark, your heart thudding so hard in your chest you felt like it was going to burst out. Walking into the grand hall, the first thing you noticed was that the King and Queen were perched on their thrones, opposite of the large double wooden doors that you were entering through. The next thing you noticed was that Mark didn’t enter the room, instead he stayed by the door and motioned for you and Jeno to approach his mother and father. Then you took note of all of the knights that lined the outer side of the room, making a makeshift walkway for you both like you were walking up the aisle on your wedding day. Even if Jeno noticed the panic and anxiety radiating off of you, he made no effort to mention it or acknowledgement.

“Nice of you to join us, son.” The King spoke in a sickly-sweet tone putting emphasis on his last word, his lips curling up into a smile that had your stomach swirling. Jeno let go of your hand once you reached the stairs leading up to the thrones, and you reached out to take his hand again but one daring look from the King told you not to.

“What do you want?” Jeno clearly didn’t care to uphold formalities, his tone coming out brash and demanding, like he wasn’t talking to his King. Also he had been interrupted during a time that he didn’t wish to be interrupted, and his excess of hormones flooding throughout his body didn’t make anything easier. The King simply chuckled, nodding his head towards someone out of your line of sight. At the King’s silent request, you felt someone grabbing you from behind, two pairs of hands taking one arm each and holding you tightly. Jeno reacted immediately, about to tear their hands off for touching his mate when he was grabbed himself and forced to kneel on the carpets.

“What are you doing?! Let her go!!!” He roared, his voice echoing through the hall like he was the only person occupying the room. You struggled against their hands, desperately looking to Jeno as they pushed you hard onto your knees. You wanted to change into your wolf form, at least that way you at least stood a chance, but before you could the King piped up.

“If either of you change into your mutt forms. I’ll have all of my men behead her in front of you.”

“Father! Please don’t do this!” Jeno resorted to pleading, his entire body starting to quiver in fear and repressed power. He was trying so hard not to change, he always struggled with his emotions causing his body to react before his brain could, but your life was on the line.

“I told you not to make a decision you’d regret.” The King stood up but made no effort to move from his spot. “Now’s your last chance Jeno. Make it quick.”

“I choose her! I don’t care if you disown me and kick me out. I’d rather that than lose her.” Jeno glanced at you, his eyes glistening as they glowed amber, his inner wolf ready to burst out. Your bottom lip wobbled as you held back tears, seeing your mate in distress was causing you distress, and you felt touched that he chose you over everything he’d ever known. You’d only known him for just over two weeks, yet he was choosing you because his instincts wouldn’t let him live if he chose otherwise.

“Who said anything about disowning you or kicking you out? No no my sweet boy.” The King laughed sinisterly, his smirk growing as he stared down at his son. “I wouldn’t do that to you, you’re my son!” He turned his head towards the guards holding you and nodded his head once more, his face falling into one of no emotion. “Kill her.”

“NO!” Jeno couldn’t hold it in any longer, and his body ripped into his enormous wolf form that had the knights holding onto him flying across the floor from the power. He let out a loud growl as he turned towards you, but by the time he had his eyes on you, one of the guards had their dagger to your throat. The cold blade pressed so tightly against your neck that you felt hot blood trickle down your chest, but it didn’t hurt, you had too much adrenaline rushing through you. As Jeno’s eyes focused on the scarlet liquid running down your throat, he swore to himself he would rip anyone to shreds that hurt you. All the surrounding knights drew their swords and pointed them towards you and Jeno, circling you like a pack of hungry wolfs about to devour a deer, only you never thought you’d be the deer of the situation. Your body was shaking, terror quaking your soul when you realised this could be the end. All because fate made the Prince of the Kingdom your mate.

Everything went silent and still as an emerald green light flew through the hall, it light up the room like a fire and hit a group of knights with such a hard impact that it sent them flying into the opposing wall. You couldn’t see what was going on, as you were being held so tightly, but you heard shouting and saw many more sparks in an array of colours flying through the air. Suddenly you were thrown to the floor, your body hitting the cold tiles hard, but it didn’t stop you from jumping up and taking a stance beside Jeno. You looked over towards the door where the sparks were coming from and you saw Mark holding his wand out with Renjun beside him, and Jisung on his other side. Renjun had his wand drawn, and Jisung’s eyes were glowing golden. Jeno had informed you before that Jisung was a dragon, but you had yet to see his other form, you’d heard stories about dragons and wondered if he could even fit in the grand hall in his dragon form. You soon found out, as Jisung’s body was swallowed up in flames and in his place grew a dragon that nearly touched the untouchably high ceiling. He used his tail and swiped at many knights, knocking them all to the floor hard enough that they didn’t get back up again. The other knights didn’t last long, as Renjun and Mark took most of them out, and Jeno lunged at the ones who had been holding onto you. You turned your head away, but the sounds of their bloodcurdling screams didn’t last long once Jeno had gotten his teeth into their necks.

Mark and Renjun rushed to you both, leaving Jisung in the entrance of the room to stop anyone else from entering. The King’s eyes went as wide as a full moon, his mouth opening and parting in shock at the sight of his runaway bastard, he also knew that he had no one to protect him now that all of his knights were either unconscious or dead.

“R-Renjun?” The King stuttered out, his fists clenching tightly as he looked at you all.

“Hello Father, did you miss me?” Renjun smirked, gripping his wand tighter as the thought of revenge for the death of his mother played on his mind. The King’s jaw tightened, and his eyes darted to the boy stood beside Renjun.

“Mark, how could you betray me like this?! You will be hung for this, after I hang your little bitch of a maid first.” He sneered, still thinking he had the right to throw his orders around despite being outnumbered.

“I was never hired to help you. My specific orders were to make sure your son was safe. I’m just doing as I’m told your highness.” Mark deadpanned, unaffected by the threat of being hanged. You looked over at Jeno, seeing how the fur on his back was rising as he growled. Without any more being said, he took off, running at his father with his teeth bared. But he suddenly stopped dead. The King had withdrawn a knife, and had the Queen in his arms, the shining blade pressed against her throat.

“One more move Jeno and your mother’s blood will be spilling on the floor.” The King said lowly with so much threat in his voice that it sent shivers down your spine. Jeno whimpered, his undying love for his mother ceasing all of his plans to kill his father. She looked panicked in his hold, her hands gripping tightly at his arm as large tears rolled down her pink cheeks. You would never have expected the King to turn on his own wife, but the evil glint in his eye proved to you that he had completely lost his mind, mad with power at his sons’ defiance. The King was too busy staring his son in the eye that he didn’t notice Renjun raise his wand. The spell hit the King in face, the magic black as night and not giving the King any chance to dodge it. The knife fell to the floor with an echoing clang, the Queen breaking free of her husband’s hold and running down the stairs to her son’s side. The King staggered back, his hands coming to his throat as he struggled to breathe, his mouth gasping for breath until his face turned purple, which quickly turned to an icy blue, just before he collapsed to his knees, and fell face fire onto the floor, lifeless.

Renjun had gotten his revenge, and he couldn’t stop the smirk that tugged at his lips as he saw the man who took his mother’s life away, dead on the floor in front of his own throne.

“Jeno!” You rushed to him as his body shrank back into his human form. His body sweating and his skin looking paler than you’d ever seen as he stared at the body of his father. You wrapped your arms around him and buried your head into his neck, hoping that your scent would calm him down, which it did, and he visibly relaxed in your hold.

“Baby…” He whispered, burrowing his nose in your hair, and inhaling your scent, thanking all the gods that ever lived that he wasn’t holding your lifeless body. He held you tightly, his chest rising and falling fast as he tried to catch his breath. You were still in mild shock at what had happened, and your neck was starting to hurt from the minor cut you had received, but it wasn’t bleeding anymore thankfully. Once Jeno had ran his hands all over your body to check for anymore injuries and had declared you safe, he turned his head to Mark and Renjun, also noticing that Jisung had changed back into his human form, covering himself up with Mark’s cloak that he’d passed to him clearly to keep his pride intact. “Renjun, how did you…?” He couldn’t find the words, but Renjun knew what he was implying.

“Mark has known where I’ve been since he started working here. He came to me and told me that you were in danger…I didn’t even think about it, I had to be here for you.” Jeno felt his eyes brimming with tears, the lump in his throat almost choking him as he stared at his brother. He no longer cared that he’d cursed him for life, because it brought him to you, and because in the end, Renjun, the person he’d grown up besides, was his brother, and he knew he should be happy about it. He then looked at Mark and raised an eyebrow, silently asking the question that was playing on your mind too.

“I had heard from someone that the King was planning on killing (Y/N), I knew I couldn’t take him down on my own, and you’re a big bundle of fur and emotions so you couldn’t do it alone,” He ignored the scowl that Jeno gave him as he said that. “So I got Renjun, however…I didn’t think it would escalate this much.” Jeno gulped and smiled, grateful that he had people who would put their own lives at risk for his life and his happiness.

“What about Jisung? Why is he here?” The Queen asked quietly, not happy that they brought the young boy into something that would surely turn into a fight, her maternal instincts flaring over the boy who wasn’t even her own son.

“I heard Mark talking to his girlfriend about it and there was no way I was being left out!” He grinned from ear to ear, clearly excited about the whole thing.

“Mother, did you know that father was planning this?” Jeno stayed sitting on the floor so that his mother didn’t see his private parts, he still wanted to keep his modesty. You clung onto him tightly, your hand rubbing his arm slowly to keep his emotions stable. The Queen shook her head with wide eyes, gasping at the question.

“Of course I didn’t, if I had then I would have warned you to run away. Nothing I could have said to him would have changed his mind, but at least I could have potentially saved your lives.” She took off her own cloak and handed it to Jeno, letting him lay it over his lap to hide himself better.

“Jeno.” Mark called out, gaining everyone’s attention as he walked past everyone over to the King’s body, picking up the golden crown from the floor by his head. “You know that this makes you the King, don’t you?” Jeno hadn’t even thought of that, and his mouth popped open in shock. Then it dawned on him, and he shook his head quickly.

“No. Renjun is the Kings son too, and he��s older than me. That crown belongs to him.” You could feel Jeno’s muscles tensing underneath your palms, indicating that he was getting uncomfortable. You weren’t sure how royalty worked, so you had no idea if what Jeno was saying was correct or not.

“But I’m a bastard Jeno, the Queen isn’t my mother…you have more of a claim to the throne than me.” Renjun’s eyes widened as he stared at the crown.

“You killed him, it’s yours.” Jeno argued softly, shaking his head as he glanced down at your delicate hands on his skin, letting his head hang. Renjun walked up to Mark, taking the crown from him, and inspecting it in his hands. He shook his head, walking up to Jeno and placing it on his younger brother’s head with a smile.

“You always wanted it, it’s yours Jeno.” He placed his hand on Jeno’s shoulder and patted it gently. Jeno looked up with wide, innocent eyes brimming with tears. You could see how much Jeno wanted that crown, and you had no idea that he was that desperate for it until that moment. “I always thought that King Jeno sounded a lot better than Prince Jeno anyway.”

---

A week later Jeno was coronated as King. The entire Kingdom rejoiced that the cruel King was dead and replaced with his son. The Queen had decided to stay in the castle, but she gave up her title as Queen to live a peaceful life, now ready to enjoy watching her son rule the Kingdom. Jeno had introduced you to the Kingdom as his Queen, but you weren’t officially the Queen until you married him, but neither of you cared for that yet, and that didn’t stop Jeno from putting the Queen’s crown on your head. The full moon came and went fast, and both of you had recovered from it with ease. Jeno had fucked you in your bedroom until the sun came up to release the pent-up instincts lingering inside you both, keeping you both away from the moonlight in an attempt to stop your bodies changing. It felt strange not going on a run in your wolf form during the full moon, but you’d both agreed to do that on the full moon after, since this was your first one as mates so you couldn’t take your hands off of each other.

Renjun had returned to the castle with his girlfriend, the bounty over his head completely abolished so he could live safely and peacefully in the castle where he was raised. Jeno had appointed him as his right-hand man, letting Mark keep his position as the castle’s wizard. It couldn’t hurt to have two wizards on hand, and Jeno was more than happy that he’d let go of his past anger towards Renjun and was instead loving having a big brother. The past four months had gone by like a dream, and you were still in mild shock at how much your life had changed just from protecting strangers in the forest from the man you now cuddled up to every night in bed.

As you stood on one of the castles balconies staring out at the setting sun as it shone across the Kingdom, you couldn’t help but let your eyes drift towards the forest to the side of the Kingdom, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you watched the shadows dance around amongst the trees. You sensed Jeno approaching you from behind before you felt him. His arms wrapped around your waist from behind silently, and he pressed a kiss to the back of your neck before settling his chin on your shoulder, staring out at his Kingdom with his love in his arms. You felt comfortable, like nothing could harm you when you were wrapped in his strong embrace.

“Do you want to go on a run tonight?” He spoke quietly in your ear, nibbling on your earlobe playfully and giving you a tender squeeze. You giggled and leaned your head back against him, humming in contentment.

“Can we stay here?” You lifted your head up when he made a strange noise in confusion, his eyes widening at your request.

“But you love going on runs?” He couldn’t quite understand why you’d choose staying in the confinements of the castle over running free and stretching your legs in your wolf form.

“I can’t change forms Jeno. Not for a while.” You whispered, slowly taking his hands from around you and instead placing them both on your flat abdomen. Jeno’s eyebrows knitted together as he thought over the reasons why wolfs can’t change forms. But the only one that poked out amongst the options was one that had the wolf inside of him yearning for you and causing his face to nuzzle into your neck more.

“How long have you known?” He rubbed his hands against your stomach gently, the pride inside of him making him feel like he was on top of the world at finding out about the baby he’d gifted you both with. He had noticed that your scent had changed recently, but he hadn’t thought much of it, as he didn’t know what a pregnant wolf would smell like.

“Not long, I assume it happened on the last full moon…I know this is a lot faster than we planned but it’s only natural for us to move fast, it isn’t about what our minds want-”

“It’s about what our hearts want.” Jeno cut you off and took the words right out of your mouth. You smiled and melted into his hold. “It’s also hard to control your urges, I’ve found it a lot harder to resist things since living like this.”

“I wouldn’t know any different.” You giggled, staring out at the courtyard of the castle.

“I much pr-” Jeno started talking but you cut him off quickly, gasping loudly and pointing out at one of the wooden doors that lead to the inside of the castle.

“There!” Jeno was on high alert now, his eyes following to where you were pointing, but he couldn’t see anything.

“What is it?” You started to shiver in his hold, your hand trembling as you gently pulled it in against your chest with your heart racing faster than it does when you go running in your wolf form. You continued to stare at the door as it swung open once more, before closing again, but there was no one opening and closing it. Jeno then noticed the door moving with no one making it move, his breath hitching in his throat as he dared to speak. “How is the door doing that on its own?”

“It’s not doing it on its own…” You whispered, dragging your eyes away to turn around and look Jeno in the eye.

“But…what could be doing that then without us being able to see it?” He frowned in confusion; worry littered across his face as he stared down at your own worried expression. You took a deep breath, knowing you were right all along about what you’d smelt on the day the King died.

“A demon.”

---

(Wow it’s been so long since I posted Renjun’s part so sorry about that! Anyway I hope this isn’t flop city like the other two parts lol. I hope you enjoyed it and I’m so sorry about how fast paced this was and how much smut there was, but it’s vital to the story! Love you, thanks for reading and as per usual, feedback is wanted! If you reblog this pleeeease write your thoughts in the tags, as I check every reblog and get sad when I see no taggies. Also let me know if you spotted the hint in this story about the next story ;) Thanks!)

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themockingcrows · 3 years ago

Text

Faint

Chronic invisible illness sucks. Sometimes we stay quiet. Sometimes we cope by giving our favorite characters our condition to get some comfort. This fic is the latter case, wherein Rose Lalonde has Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome and Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and deals with everything that brings in order to spread a bit of awareness.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31556225

She’d thought it was normal, till she brought it up to the others. The chest pain, the exhaustion, the dizziness. The sense of running on an internal timer so precise that if she overstepped its bounds it would be time to collapse into the void itself. The darkness at the edges of her vision when she’d been upright too long, when she was stressed, when she was running, dancing.

She’d thought it was normal, that everyone just had more stamina than she did before they had the same symptoms occur.

“That’s not normal. You should maybe see a doctor!” they’d unanimously said. John had been concerned, Dave had been flippant with jokes but the worry was easy to detect, and Jade was forceful with her reasoning.

Rose had finally told her mother something was wrong, to spur a visit to the doctor. It was hard to explain at first, but when her guardian further questioned how she felt, how long she’d felt that way, it had nearly turned into a shouting match.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? What if something is really wrong, Rosie! This isn’t something to just keep quiet!”

If she’d known it was abnormal, perhaps she would have mentioned it sooner. If she’d known. If she’d had a reason, she might have even been able to keep up with ballet instead of having to quit, feigning disinterest when it still made her heart sing. Violin was hard enough to deal with, with her arms raised the entire time. But ballet was just a no go anymore.

To the doctor, then, after a few weeks of edge of seat waiting. The family physician, who they’d known for years. Who didn’t believe her. Not at first, at least.

He’d checked her weight first thing, and finding her normal range, asked about her habits. While he spoke, he checked her joints and how stretchy she was, keeping her moving while talking till she was reeling on her feet before he let her lay down. Stupid old man. Her problem felt like it was in her chest or her head, not her joints! She’d always been plenty bendy, able to pull off poses ahead of her ballet class with minimal effort, the stretches never quite feeling like enough to really pull in her body in a satisfying way.

Head swimming till she lay flat on the exam table, arms crossed over her stomach absently, Rose continued to answer questions.

She was doing okay in school. She was just more tired than usual.

Yes, this had been happening for quite some time.

No, she’d fainted before, but only once. And only because she’d been up too long dancing. She didn’t miss the curious look the doctor gave her mother, the raised brow. He checked her abdomen, he checked her glands, looking for distension or rigidity, looking for clues. Nothing. Nothing that she could see, at least. Nothing that felt any different from normal. He continued to talk, keeping her lying down for a while, and checked her blood pressure while she rested, the pulse oximeter being placed on her opposite finger.

75bpm, 120/80. Everything normal, everything fine. He left the devices in place, however, and then did something strange.

“Could you stand up for me, Rose? Nice and straight, right here by the table.”

There were no questions this time to keep her occupied. Just two sets of eyes staring at her in the small room, watching as she felt the cold sweat start up on her forehead, the shake beginning in her limbs. It was stronger when she stood still, when she couldn’t prowl around. She felt nauseated as the sweat turned to a hot flash and started to soak into the fabric of her shirt, and with it came the panic as she saw the darkness at the corners of her vision.

“Can I sit down please.”

“Not yet, try to hold out a little longer,” the doctor coaxed, inflating the blood pressure cuff once more. She focused on the discomfort on her arm instead of the pounding in her chest and head, the increased breaths. Nausea rose in her throat, bile, bitter, salt from excess saliva.

“Can I sit down. Please,” she said again, not caring that it sounded like begging.

“Nearly there, just a moment longer.”

She didn’t have a moment. She felt her knees quaking, felt the floor rushing up to meet her, but gratefully felt her mother’s hands hurrying to catch her waist and balance her till the doctor finished his data gathering.

80/50. 145bpm.

The monster had a name now. Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome. There were hopes she’d just grow out of it, but there was a chance it might be long lasting. In her case it seemed to be at least partly linked to how bendy she was, how loose her skin felt, how stretchy it was, how easily she bruised. That, too, had a name. Ehlers Danlos Syndrome.

What had been a slow appointment was suddenly moving very fast. Referrals were being made, appointments with different doctors at the big hospital in town, and paperwork was being handed to her mother in a thick stack. Informative pages, recommendations for diet, for exercises, safety precautions, warnings, risks. A whole new world was opening up below her and swallowing her whole, and Rose didn’t know how to feel about it.

One thing was certain, however.

She didn’t plan on telling her friends. Or anyone, for that matter.

It would be her little secret.

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

“...Is it going to hurt?” was Rose’s only question. She felt very small, much smaller than she’d felt at the clinic with her mother. The room here was bigger and more sterile, with strange looking machinery and electronics. She’d asked the same when she had her first EKG earlier, and had been relieved that the most painful part was having the gummy electrodes pulled back off after the painless test was performed. Something about being in a hospital gown and swinging her legs on a different looking exam table just made her feel even more fragile than the long walk through the building had. At least her mom was there with her.

“No, not at all. It might be a little uncomfortable, or a little cold, but there’s no pain,” promised a technician with a smile. She smiled back a little uncertainly, unconvinced. “All we’re going to do is get some pictures of your heart. I promise, an echocardiogram doesn’t hurt. It’s just a paddle with cold jelly, you’ll hold your breath when I tell you to and stay very still, and we’ll see how things look from different angles.”

“And you’ll tell me if I’m going to die or not.”

“No,” he said with a smirk. “I’ll be telling you if you have any issues with your heart valves or not.”

“Same difference.”

“You underestimate just how much the human body can handle before needing intervention,” he chuckled. “C’mon, legs up on the table and get laid back. I’m sorry for having to keep the shirt open, I know it’s embarrassing. Mom, you can see everything, yes?”

“Yes. Rosie if you need to hold my hand, I ca-”

“I’m fine, Mother. Thank you.”

“Well. If you change your mind, I’m right here.”

“Can you see the screen?” he asked Rose. She nodded, then went very still to watch the technician lift a bottle of gel and squeeze a splurt onto the paddle's end instead. “Right. Sorry this will be chilly, just try to bear with it. And-”

“Stay very still,” Rose finished for him as he opened the front of the gown and pressed the paddle to her chest. She hadn’t been watching the screen at first, but when it lit up with a fluttering white and gray form it was hard to ignore. She knew what it was, of course, though not what the technician was looking for. Seeing your own heart pushing blood around, flaring and calming as it cycled pulses, was kind of amazing. There it was, the only thing keeping her alive, and they were checking to see if any potential defects inside of its valves from the EDS were making her sick.

The procedure was quick enough. A roll here or there, a drop down section of the table for him to do further measurements underneath of her as she lay on her side, and soon enough she was done.

“What’s the verdict, am I dying,” Rose said, voice carefully calm and face deadpan. The papers from the physician had said this was a non-deadly condition, that neither of them would kill her, but the concept of damage to a heart valve of all things being real had brought out the morbid part of her brain.

“There’s a bit of a leak,” he admitted. “But your measurements are just fine and within normal ranges. I wouldn’t be too worried about it, but if you start feeling worse or new symptoms we might recheck within the next few years.”

Rose wiped off the gel with the offered cloth and covered back up while the technician spoke with her mother, the words flowing quick and easy as she asked questions and they discussed the findings. Rose herself stared at the blank screen for a moment before setting her hand over her heart, feeling the pulse, remembering how it had looked.

She was fine then.

All the more reason not to make anyone she knew worry.

She informed her friends that it had been a vitamin issue and that she was going to be just fine before changing the subject, getting swept up in conversations about games and comics and music all over again. Same as ever.

Same as always.

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

Treatment wasn’t much. Increased water consumption, and a stupid amount of salt. Compression stockings, when that alone wasn’t enough. Rose drank gatorade till she could smell it in her dreams, ate pickles and pretzels till salty foods lost their amusement and her mother had to get creative in the kitchen and with the ordering in catalog. Everything was salt and fluids, compression stockings just tight enough they gave her the will to live back. Thankfully they came in black and she could just pretend they were normal stockings, and for anyone just looking in passing, they would be just another part of her wardrobe.

Yet none of it was enough. The weakness persisted, the fatigue, and through it all that awful, stupid racing heart. If the sound of a beating heart could drive a man mad from beneath floorboards then, surely, the persistent throbbing in her ears and the pain in her chest from her own rushing tempo would be enough to drive her mad. Going to the grocery store made her sweat through her clothes, made her vision blur even as she clung to the cart for balance. More than once, she had to go find a deserted aisle to sit down on the floor in, legs stretched out in front of her, waiting for the worst of it to pass as she debated just how much she might regret laying down flat to hurry it along.

Rose assumed this was just how life was going to be. Stockings, salt, water, constantly living on an internal timer to get things done. Annoying, but not much of a burden. She could imagine living her life like this, one way or another. Others did it every day.

Then had come SBurb.

Fire from the sky and the end of the world, rushing, hurrying, breaking the bottle. She hadn’t been wearing her stockings for the day, but was grateful for the opportunities to sit, few and far between as they were. There was plenty reason for her heart to be beating out of her chest then; plenty of scary, inexplicably stressful things were happening. She had entered the medium with grim determination, and set about the task of destroying imps with a bit of glee.

She had to be quick in dispatching them, there was no alternative. Fainting around these things was unthinkable, and she had plenty of stress to get out with her knitting needles. Rose combined aggression with ballet and her own trained limberness for maneuvers that, in a normal situation, she’d never have reason to use.

It was thrilling.

It was-

Gasping and out of breath, Rose settled on her knees and held her chest after her latest kill, needing time to recover. To rest. It was like she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t open her lungs enough. Like she was drowning on dry land. She gagged, saliva thick and sticky from exertion and, somehow, early dehydration. Slowly, she flopped onto her back and threw her legs up against the wall, feeling the ache and throb as the pooled blood rushed back towards her torso and brain.

Maybe she should get her stockings before continuing, given she had no idea what to expect going forward…

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

The game up through getting to the meteor had been quite the experience. She’d been able to pace herself somewhat, exerting herself in bouts that she could control better once she’d gotten some thoroughly upgraded weaponry in hand. Now, godtiered and being able to fly, she found she was able to handle being upright longer than usual.

Well.

Mostly.

She still had an affinity for walking normally. Maybe it was because it let her track her internal timer better, a long ingrained pattern she was comfortable with. Maybe it was the fear of falling from height, knowing it wouldn’t kill her but that it would still hurt unless someone caught her. There was also the setback of getting enough fluids and salt.

Gatorade was too much to hope for, but water was doable at least. Salt as a base was also available, but drinking straight salt water would have been anything but subtle.

...Maybe it was time to be honest. Rose was fairly certain that Dave already had an idea something was up, having been around her for some time by then. He always seemed to be watching her carefully, and after a few conversations with Kanaya she’d walked in on, even Kanaya had begun to have a more cautious air in their interactions.

Would that just get worse, if she told everyone?

How would Vriska react to such a thing? Such a weakness? The Seer of Light, waylaid by darkness brought on by standing for too long, she could hear it now. Brought on by sitting upright too long, sometimes. It had progressed in ways that she was frustrated about, spending time reading and trying to figure out how to make compression stockings of the right elasticity out of her god tier outfit in her down time. A dress? Sure! Simple! A garment that would help her out without cutting off all circulation to her legs or being useless? Bit more difficult.

At least Kanaya was content to let her recline whenever she wanted. She never asked, never brought it up. Instead she welcomed the blonde head to her lap, the subtle tug on her hand that meant she was going to slide to sit on the ground against the wall for a time to watch the vast space they were traveling through.

Maybe she would just keep it quiet forever. Or, at least, till after their final battles were done. When there was time to rest, when there were doctors again, Gatorade or something similar, she could get this under control and go back to her plans of dealing with it like she had imagined on Earth. Whatever lay ahead of them could be handled.

She’d keep it quiet. It would be her little secret.

Till she’d fainted in front of everyone, at least.

Another argument had broken out between Karkat and Vriska, Terezi egging on from the side and Dave adding the occasional beatbox for effect much to everyone’s annoyance and amusement in equal measure. Rose and Kanaya were observing and commenting for the most part, following them all up the stairs, but the growing intensity of the clog meant that the foot traffic had come to a stop.

Moments ticked by, then minutes.

Rose felt the shake in her knees, the cold sweat on her brow starting up.

“Dear, are you quite alright? You look pale.”

“I’m fine,” she promised with a smile, looking ahead at the group who took up the stairwell. Surely they’d move any moment. Any time now. Any second. They couldn’t argue forever, not even Karkat and Vriska on a bad day, it would end any time. She just needed to hold on, and then she’d be back upstairs with her book on the sofa, feet up, recovering stealthily yet again.

The argument dragged on, and the pain in her chest started up. Vision blurring, Rose turned her head to glance down the stairs, half turning. Maybe she could go back downstairs and use the restroom or something instead, buy time for them to move while having an excuse on hand so nobody would be suspicious.

“I’m-” she started to say.

Her legs buckled beneath her, and she knew no more.

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

“See, if you’d just moved your ass instead of backing up into the wall like a cornered meowbeast, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“It’s not like I pushed her! I don’t know who pushed her!”

“Nobody pushed her, she just collapsed, I was right there. We’ve been over this.”

“Well, why did she collapse then!”

“Has she been drinking or something?”

“No, not that I’m aware. She ate earlier, too.”

“Sleeping?”

“Plenty.”

Rose slowly opened her eyes and stared up quietly at the ceiling, the view from the floor at the bottom of the staircase. The argument had a new source now, the squabble more contained than before, but still lively. Kanaya was watching Terezi pull Karkat and Vriska physically apart like she wanted to jump in and do it herself, but she kept her cool hands on Rose’s arm instead, immobilized. Dave had a notebook he was using like a fan over her face, cooling her off, drying the remaining sweat on her brow. He stopped when he realized she was awake, setting it aside and pushing his shades up the bridge of his nose.

She knew that look. Worry. Suspicion. It made her stomach ache a bit with guilt.

“You good now?”

“...Yeah. I fell?”

“Swan dived face first for the concrete, more like.”

Kanaya’s head jerked her direction and she smiled broader, leaning down to hug Rose tight around the shoulders.

“I was so worried! You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No,” she admitted, surprised. “How-”

“I’m quick,” Dave shrugged, glancing to the side. Kanaya pressed a kiss to her cheek before carefully helping her to sit upright. “Hey, yo, shut the fuck up, she’s awake now. Everyone can stop the blame game, new topic after a quick five.”

“Lalonde, what was that about!” Vriska said immediately. “Did you just trip over your own feet?”

“Kanaya said she collapsed,” Terezi sighed. “Not tripped.”

Karkat glowered, but crossed his arms and was quiet for a moment before speaking. “Thanks for not painting the floor with your thinkpan, we’ve got enough problems around here witho- UGH” he grunted, Terezi’s elbow making swift contact with his side, halting his contribution to the subject.

“Are you sick or something?” Terezi asked.

Rose furrowed her brow, looking around at everyone. Looking back to Dave, looking to Kanaya, both of whom briefly exchanged knowing glances. It appeared the jig was up. Now to just let the cat out of the bag properly so it would stop suffocating.

“I fainted,” Rose said.

“No fucking shit,” came Karkat’s helpful response.

“It’s. ...I’ve done it before,” Rose said, trying to measure her words, trying to figure out how to explain quickly not only to Dave but to members of an entirely different species. “On Earth I was sick. I’m still sick.”

“So we just need to get you medicine or something, right?” Dave said.

She shook her head.

“I’m already taking my medicine best I can.”

“Man, if you know how to make meds can you whip up some pepto or somethin’, because I think I’m gonna die if I don’t get hold of some before the next time we eat makeshift Alternian shit,” Dave said. Rose shook her head again.

“Water and salt.”

“What about it?” said Kanaya, rubbing Rose’s upper back when she still looked a bit woozy. Rose accepted the invitation and leaned into her shoulder, hugging her with one arm to give herself a bit more courage.

“That’s the medicine.”

“...I don’t follow.”

Rose groaned and dropped her head against Kanaya’s neck for a moment before sighing and straightening once more.

“I’ve got a condition called POTS.”

“Like-”

“No, not like fucking weed. It’s Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome.”

“What the fuck does all that mean? Are you contagious?” Karkat asked, getting another sharp elbow from Terezi, hard enough he slapped at her arm afterwards a few times in annoyance. “Will you knock that the fuck off?!”

“Don’t you think she would’ve mentioned something if she was?”

“SHE’S A FUCKING ALIEN! How do we know if it’s not contagious to US?” he argued, taking a quick step back to avoid yet another elbow coming his direction. Vriska caught him around the neck and scrubbed her knuckles deep against his scalp till he cringed.

“Preeeeeeeetty sure she would’ve said something that important before no- YOW!”

More than a little annoyed, Terezi yanked a section of Vriska’s hair till she released the thrashing Karkat, then quickly slapped a hand Karkat’s direction to keep him at bay.

“What’s it mean,” she said simply.

“It means my body is stupid and my brain doesn’t get enough blood to it when I’m upright. It all goes to my legs and can’t get back up to my head fast enough,” she said. “My heart races very badly and I feel like I’m dying and I get very weak. I get tired. I get sick. And if I’m not careful, I faint.”

“So it wasn’t a vitamin problem,” Dave mumbled. “Fuckin’ knew it.”

Kanaya frowned a bit, lifting a hand up to stroke a section of Rose’s bangs away from her face, to stroke down the side of her cheek with her thumb. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner? We could have watched out for you.”

“I didn’t want to hold anyone back,” Rose shrugged. “I thought I could handle it. And I didn’t want-”

“UGH great! Now we’ve got a whole person who’s useless to cope with!” Vriska shouted, rubbing her eyes with one hand.

“That,” Rose said flatly, more than a little annoyed.

“She’s not useless, she’s sick,” Dave said.

“SAME DIFFERENCE! It’s a weakness! A BIG weakness! We’re heading towards a huge fight and we can’t count on you at all now!”

Rose set her jaw. “I can handle myself. I just have to be quick an-”

“You can’t handle yourself, you just fell down the stairs from standing still! What if you collapse during battle, huh? What then? I’m sure as shit not sweeping in to save you, and we need all the god tier powers we can get to be FUNCTIONAL during a fight!” Vriska continued, yanking her hair free from Terezi’s hand to stalk closer, staring down where Rose sat, arms crossed. “What can you do? Ranged attacks while sitting down?”

Releasing Kanaya, Rose stood up quickly, immediately regretting it when her vision swam again. She braced herself and bent her knees before locking them in a wider stance for balance. It was a weak spot. A point of pride was that she’d come this far just fine as it was, and now that the cat was out of the bag her worst fears were coming true.

“Hey, easy, don’t go down again,” Dave said from behind her.

“Shut up, I’m fine!” Rose insisted. “What do you want me say, Vriska! That I promise I won’t collapse? You don’t know what I’m capable of in a fight! You don’t know what options I have on hand! Don’t discredit me just because I have this bullshit to deal with. If I can work around it, so can you. If you can’t then which of us is weaker in the end, me or you?”

It was spoken as a challenge, pure and simple. Tension was thick in the air as they stared each other down, Rose with her hands balled into fists, Vriska with crossed arms. Everyone was waiting for something to give, for the other shoe to drop.

“...Whatever,” Vriska muttered, the first to break position. She turned around and lifted her arms behind her head to stretch as she went up the stairs. “Humans are so fragile and booooooooring! Terezi, come help with dinner, I don’t know what to aim for this time.”

A collective breath was released. Terezi smirked a bit.

“That was pretty good, Lalonde. Normally she’d have kept going, but I think you got her in a corner now.”

“TEREZI, COME ON, I’M HUNGRY!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming, keep your rumble spheres tethered!” she shouted, before turning with a laugh like broken glass to run up the stairs after her friend.

Karkat, alone with the trio, watched Terezi run off before looking back towards Rose. She shuddered, then quickly sat back down on the ground and flopped onto her back with a heavy sigh.

“I’m fine!” she was quick to say. “Just. Need to be down for a second. Just a second. Holy shit.”

“What, think you were gonna get into a catfight?” Dave asked, picking up the notebook again to sway over her face a few times just in case it was useful again.

“Yes!”

“Would’ve been funny,” he admitted.

“Would’ve been hilarious if this is what finally got us at each other’s throats,” she said sarcastically.

“How do you feel now that everyone knows what has been wrong?” Kanaya asked, stretching her legs out before scooting closer to Rose’s side and laying back as well. “Relieved?”

“Yes. ...Though. What if she’s right…?”

“First time for everything,” Dave shrugged. “Here, lift your heads up,” he instructed as he dropped the notebook and instead lifted his cape, scooting it in a wad beneath their heads. He settled opposite Rose and stretched out as well, one knee bent up so he could tap his foot occasionally, arms splayed out.

Karkat waited for a moment before Dave patted the open space in the circle, then came closer and flopped down as well, hands on his stomach.

“...So you’re SURE you’re not contagious.”

“Dude, with how often she swaps spit with Kanaya I’m pretty sure you’re safe just breathin’ the same air if she’s unaffected,” Dave pointed out.

“Well, good. ...Sorry for asking earlier,” he muttered. “I just didn’t know what to think! Lalonde being sick out of nowhere is-”

“It was rather obvious, if you watched her closely. Something was wrong even if I didn’t know what,” Kanaya said. Dave nodded as well, making Rose groan and cover her face with her hands.

“How obvious was I?”

“Real obvious,” Dave snorted. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve got your back now, and we’ll have your back durin’ a fight. You know that.”

“I’ll slice anything that comes for you if you go down,” Karkat said helpfully. Given how much work he’d done hoping to be a threshcutioner before,

Kanaya reached for Rose’s hand as it came away from her face and gave it a squeeze. “We all do.”

“Yeah,” Rose sighed. “Yeah. I know. You’re right.”

She had backup now. And a while to think of how to explain everything to the others when they met up with them.

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

It felt like years ago, that final battle. Maybe because it had been years by then. It was kind of hard to keep track sometimes, really. She’d held her own, had backup, and they had all come out on top. They’d made a new world, populated it, let it grow and come back to live amongst everyone. She’d been hopeful that after all that, after all the advancements, there would be progress in her own disorders. Treatment options beyond salt and water, beyond stockings.

The fact there wasn’t, that it was still a chronic illness, that there was no magical cure in a special pill to take even after all of that, felt a bit like a slap in the face. Somehow, despite everything, having that bit of hope crushed had been enough to send her into a depression deep enough that it took months for friends and family to help pull her out of it.

There was no ‘better’. There was just coping. And she had to be okay with that.

She had options at least, thankfully. She could fly to get places faster than walking, even if she was on a harsher timer than before. She could drive. Her home was comfortable and easily accommodated a wheelchair that she could use outside of the home as well, half the time pushing herself along and the other half of the time being pushed by Kanaya when she got too tired. Life was good in many ways, even if there was no miracle to be had.

She was alive, married to the love of her life. She had friends and family surrounding her. She had aspirations for a long future, and hobbies that kept her plenty busy. It was enough for her.

When Kanaya leaned down behind her to kiss the side of her neck, sharp fangs barely there on her skin, Rose pulled the brakes on her chair and reached back to stroke Kanaya’s hair fondly. Her wife sat down beside her on the dock, overlooking the vast lake, and squinted out over the shimmering surface to make out where their friends were. A boat was heading this way and that trailing a water skier behind on a tow line, while two people flew above it keeping an eye on whoever was below kicking up wake behind them.

“Are you sure you didn’t want to participate?” Kanaya asked, amused when the skier went down into the water and was pulled up by the two flying lifeguards. “They said they had an innertube as well. You could sit and be towed.”

“Mmm. I’m fine,” Rose said with a smile. “Maybe next time, I don’t much feel like getting wet today. What about you? It looks plenty safe. Roxy and John wouldn’t let anyone drown.”

“I’d rather be near you,” she shrugged. “Perhaps we can have a turn in the boat instead later. We could take a tour around the lake without getting wet.”

“I love how your mind works,” Rose chuckled. She stretched a bit, then pushed the legs of her chair straight out, propping her legs straight out in front of her with a grateful sigh, pooled blood circulating somewhat easier again.

The skier was, apparently, Karkat. At least that’s what the shouting and cursing indicated as he struggled in the air with the duo holding him up safely. He dropped back into the lake with a splash, only to be carefully fished out again and deposited on the boat. Rose snorted a laugh before giggling at just how silly the situation looked from a distance, knowing she’d hear all about the details of it later from everyone involved. Kanaya looked at her with a soft smile before leaning against the side of the chair, nudging Rose’s leg till she stroked at her head and horns as one would pet a cat.

“I’m so glad to hear that sound…”

“Laughter? I’ve laughed a lot recently, haven’t I?” Rose asked, a little confused.

“Yes. You’ve been in such a good mood lately, compared to before. Every time I hear you laugh or see you smile it’s like sunshine.”

Rose leaned forward to press a kiss between Kanaya’s horns, making her wife hum softly, blissfully.

“You know just what to say to make an already good day better.”

Somehow, Rose felt, every day was just more proof that everything was going to be okay now.

((If you would like to learn more about POTS please visit this website for information!

http://www.dysautonomiainternational.org/page.php?ID=30))

#Homestuck #Rose Lalonde #chronic illness #pots #postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome #EDS #my fic

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glimmerglanger · 4 years ago

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Whumptober2020 - Day 7

Day 7 of Whumptober and Part 7 of the Oof!au. This is.... rock bottom, everyone. On the plus side: no where to go but up. On the downside....this is where Anakin remembers how to really hurt Obi-Wan, after being distracted for a long time.

Basic information: Post Order 66 Vader-Captures-Obi-Wan AU. Past/eventual Codywan. One-sided Vaderwan. Eventual happy(ish) ending.

WARNINGS: Abuse of a prisoner, mentions of torture, mind controlled into killing people, mentions of non-con, character death (not main characters). PLEASE consider the warnings before you read. Dead dove, do not eat, etc. This is the lowest we go. It’s VERY low.

No 16. A TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD DAY

Forced to Beg | Hallucinations | Shoot the Hostage

Obi-Wan laughed, shakily, when he woke up again in the cell. The sound just slipped out, and something about the tone of it made him clench his teeth shut, swallow it back. It soured in his chest, held tight within him as he breathed raggedly, trying to find balance and--and succeeding, after too long a moment.

He thought about leveraging himself off of the floor, but could see no point to it. He pulled his legs up, instead, making himself small, shifting to wedge himself further into the corner.

All the wounds were gone. Every single one of them, wiped away again by the med-droids. The sudden lack of them was jarring, confusing. It made everything that had happened feel more like a dream. Like a nightmare.

But even his nightmares - foul as they were - never managed to be so viscerally horrible. He stared at the far wall, trying very hard not to remember the way Cody - it wasn’t Cody, it hadn’t been Cody, not really, just his body used as another way for Anakin to rape him - had shoved into him, held him down and--

He bit his tongue until blood flooded his mouth and then he swallowed it, grounding himself on the pain and the nauseating taste of salt and copper. He hadn’t had many pleasant memories to keep him company, during his exile. He’d barely dared allow himself to remember softer touches, promises of what they might do after the war, wants bubbling between them…

Once, he’d imagined taking Cody to his bed, after - after everything. When there were not so many responsibilities on them. When he could be sure, utterly, that it was what Cody wanted, not just rank, or - or anything else. He’d imagined kissing Cody softly, taking their time, sharing touches that didn’t hurt at all, and-- Anakin had taken that hope and made it something foul and horrible. There’d been no kisses, there’d been only - only pain and --

Pain and, he considered, swallowing blood, his mind looking desperately for anything else to focus on, the off-rhythm tapping of Cody’s index finger against his hip. It had been the only thing he could focus on that didn’t hurt, taking himself out of his own head, there in Anakin’s torture chamber.

The tapping had made no sense, not in the room, when horror had driven thought from Obi-Wan’s head. But...but he had time to consider it, further, staring at nothing, remembering despite all of his best efforts.

Memories crawled into his head, recollections from the war, from hunkering down beside Cody behind a makeshift barrier, gesturing instructions, preparing to spring out on the droids closing on their position, Cody knocking his fingers against the top of Obi-Wan’s thigh in the same pattern and--

And they’d developed the short-hand language themselves, at first just to kill time when they were stuck on one miserable world or the other. It had made sense to have signs of their own; the Separatists were always cracking Republic codes. Obi-Wan thought, with the benefit of hindsight, that had probably been intentional on Palpatine’s part.

So, they’d made their own language to speak silently in battle, to communicate plans and ideas quickly.

Obi-Wan sat up, his heart lurching in his chest, all at once, as memory shoved together the facts inside his head, leaving him gasping.

Because Cody had been tapping code onto his hip, their code - the 212th’s code - the language not even Anakin had ever learned. “No,” he’d said. “No,” over and over and over and over, against Obi-Wan’s skin.

Obi-Wan lurched to his feet with nowhere to go, bile burning up the back of his throat, his heart clenched hard in his chest. He did not know what had been done to the troopers. He’d been afraid to hope it could be undone. But-- but Cody remembered something. And he’d said “no,” over and over again. He’d talked to Obi-Wan. He’d--

He was in there, somewhere.

And that changed everything.

Obi-Wan stood there, breathing heavily, and tried to determine what he was possibly going to do next. He tried to remember if he’d - he’d told Cody it was alright. If Cody were in there, if he’d been tormented, too, had Obi-Wan said the right things? Had he said anything? His memories were a blur of pain and confusion. But he thought he had. He held onto that thought, tightly, as he tried to plan his next steps.

There was not much Obi-Wan could possibly do. He did not know where Anakin had gone and did not much care. He braced, every time a trooper entered the room, recalling Anakin’s last words, but…

None of them made any move to touch him in such a way. He wondered if the troopers had simply not relayed Anakin’s orders, or if the very wording just made no sense to them in their current state. What did they know of joy, he wondered, watching them file in to feed him.

Still, he tapped out, quickly, “Thank you,” on Cody’s thigh, when they fed him, and felt him go still all over for a moment. And it was enough to kindle the failing sparks of hope inside Obi-Wan’s chest.

Cody was in there, somewhere. They were all in there, somewhere.

Obi-Wan would get them all out. Because if Cody had retained some piece of himself… There was no reason to believe it wasn’t true for the rest of them. Others had tapped against his skin, he recalled, shivering as his thoughts raced. They were still in their minds. Somehow.

And like hell was Obi-Wan going to leave him men to suffer this un-death, this un-making of all they were. He’d sworn to protect them, long ago. He’d failed in so many of his vows and duties. He wouldn’t fail that one.

Obi-Wan had not managed to escape by the time Anakin returned. He braced himself as the troopers came for him, pulling him to his feet and hauling him through the base, wondering what new horrors Anakin had devised to unleash upon him.

Anakin had left the viewscreen open, again. The contact turmoil of Mustafar filled the room with angry, red light. It was a reminder, every time, of all of Obi-Wan’s mistakes and failings. He had failed to keep Anakin from falling to the Dark. And then he had failed to take the final, necessary step there on the edge of the lava.

He’d paid for his mistakes, but so had the rest of the galaxy.

He wouldn’t fail again, if given the chance.

He shook those thoughts aside as Anakin said, “I do hope you’re going to be more reasonable this time, old man.”

“I doubt that,” Obi-Wan replied. Talking still hurt. And he was no longer sure if his voice would ever return to its normal state. “I think you rather enjoy having an excuse to inflict pain, don’t you? If I didn’t provide you with one, you’d have to go to all the trouble of manufacturing a reason to hurt me.”

Anakin made a sharp sound, turned half-away and snapped, “Get on your knees.”

Obi-Wan sighed. He wondered why they had to keep engaging in this song and dance. They both knew he wasn’t going to kneel under his own power. But perhaps it brought Anakin whatever twisted kind of joy he could feel, in his present condition, to hold out the illusion of choice. Obi-Wan said, waiting for the pain, “I won’t.”

Anakin nodded, which was a surprise and a change from their usual script. He swept away from the open window, stalking over to his throne and sitting. He said, “I thought you’d say that, Obi-Wan. But I think you’ll change your mind. I’ve had an epiphany, you see.”

“Oh?” Obi-Wan asked, arching an eyebrow. “Perhaps you’ve realized--”

“2224,” Anakin interrupted, and Obi-Wan worked to keep his expression still and calm as the unbroken surface of a lake. So, it was to be more of this particular torment. He tried to keep the revulsion and horror off of his face, tried--

“Draw your blaster.” Obi-Wan blinked, startled. It seemed unlikely that Anakin intended to actually kill him. Death would mean an end to whatever enjoyment Anakin drew from torturing him. And merely making the threat without any intent to carry it out would… defang him.

He said, lifting his chin, “I’m not going to beg for my life.”

Anakin lifted his chin, just a little, mask ever unchanging but pleasure in his voice when he said, “Oh, I know that.” And then he waved a hand, lazy, and added, “Shoot 4574.”

Something froze inside Obi-Wan’s chest. He jerked to look, turning in time to hear the blaster shot, to watch Trip sway on his feet and then just - just collapse, down and back, smoke curling from his temple. Cody had shot him cleanly, at least he hadn’t suffered, more, but--

“Stop!” Obi-Wan cried out, the word a rasp through his damaged throat. He looked back at Anakin, wide-eyed. “What are you--”

“Shoot 6762 next,” Anakin said, hands gripping the edge of his throne, leaning forward a little, and Obi-Wan couldn’t--he wasn’t even getting time to do anything to stop it, watching another one of his men fall. “Now 34--”

There was no thought to dropping to his knees. Obi-Wan hit hard, not even bothering to try to steady himself. It hurt, but it was a distant, far away kind of pain. “Ah,” Anakin said, pleasure and satisfaction dripping off of his tone.

“Ever the Jedi,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan heard him stand but could not look away from Cody, standing there blank-faced, the blaster still up, pointing towards Bones, who was just standing there, waiting to die. “Even now. Even with the Order completely and justly destroyed. You’ve always been weak like this, haven’t you? I was working with the Zygerrians, of late. It reminded me. I wonder how weak you are, really?”

Obi-Wan looked up at him, breathing raggedly. He said, “Don’t hurt them.”

“I will do as I wish,” Anakin said. “2224--”

“No!” Obi-Wan shouted, as best as he could, his voice was still wrong. “I’m--”

“Put the blaster against your head.” And Obi-Wan froze, his heart lurching sideways in his chest, agony sweeping through him. He turned, helplessly, watching Cody lift the blaster and snug the barrel against his temple without any evidence of hesitation. The world shifted, terribly, under Obi-Wan, his gut lurching.

From somewhere far away, Anakin said, “Pull the--”

“Please, don’t,” Obi-Wan gasped out, the words dragged out of him. “I’m kneeling. Please.”

Anakin hesitated and shook his head. He sounded… disgusted when he said, ”Look at you. Begging for the life of this thing. Even after what it did to you.”

Obi-Wan rasped out, “He didn’t do anything to me. You--”

He cut off as fingers clenched into his hair, dragging his head back, forcing him to look up into Anakin’s dark mask. “It beat you almost to death,” Anakin hissed, “it forced itself on you. Didn’t it?”

Obi-Wan’s heart beat against his ribs, uncomfortably fast. The threat of the blaster against Cody’s head echoed between each word Anakin spoke. And the truth would not serve him, in that instant. It wouldn’t serve Cody. Obi-Wan swallowed and lied, “Yes.”

Anakin’s grip tightened briefly in his hair, Anakin’s breath hitched, tellingly. He shifted a little closer, a looming shadow, and his voice had gotten raspy when he said, “Call me by my name.”

And Obi-Wan weighed the lie against Cody’s life, for less than an instant, because it was no contest. He stared up into his own reflection, knowing he’d do whatever was necessary to keep Cody’s finger from pulling that trigger, ever again, and said, “Lord Vader.”

“There,” Anakin said, satisfaction curling around the word as he reached out, cupping Obi-Wan’s cheek, “that wasn’t so hard, was it? All the pain you went through, just to avoid two little words. It wasn’t worth it, was it, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan’s gut was hard and cold as rock, but he kept his voice steady, lying, “No.”

“I like you like this,” Anakin said, voice rumbling. “Agreeable. On your knees.” He stroked his thumb up, across Obi-Wan’s cheek. “But I’m not sure I’ve been convinced to spare 2224, here. It's defective, you know. Keeping it around is a drain on resources.”

“Please,” Obi-Wan said, because he did not need the Force to read this situation. He’d been in the hands of sadists more times than he could count, the power mad and and the power hungry. And he knew Anakin, better than anyone in the galaxy ever had, perhaps. “Please, Lord Vader, don’t kill him.”

Anakin made a little sound, thoughtful. “That’s the best you can do?”

Obi-Wan’s breath caught, just for a second, something breaking in his chest. It felt like his heart. “I’m begging you,” he said, and heard Anakin make a surprised, thick sound. “Please.” And he swallowed, tipping his head forward, as much as he could with Anakin’s fingers in his hair, “Please, spare him.”

“I don’t know,” Anakin said, tugging him forward, just a little, taking his hand off of Obi-Wan’s face, reaching for his armor, instead, Obi-Wan’s stomach turning over as nausea surged up his throat. “I’m not convinced, yet.”

“Please,” he said, his voice steady through sheer force of will as he made himself wet his bottom lip, knowing where this was going, seeing the terrible conclusion like the edge of a cliff, one he had no choice but to run over, because the alternative was letting any more of his men die, and he wouldn’t do that. Ever. “Let me convince you.”

And when it was done, when Anakin released his hair and let him slump down, gasping for breath, his mouth aching and his throat sore, his vision blurry, Anakin said, “I suppose that’s good enough. For now. You’ve always used your mouth well. Put the blaster away, 2224. And get him cleaned up. Bring him to my quarters when he’s...presentable. I wish to celebrate my victory properly.”

Anakin strode away then, cloak snapping, head high. He’d always been so smug, after a victory. Obi-Wan shuddered, shaking all over, waiting to be hauled to his feet. Nothing happened, for a long moment, long enough for him to look up, though he did not want to look into Cody’s face, at the moment, shame curdling in his gut at what he’d done--

Cody was staring forward, blaster still against his head, his free hand down by his side, finger jumping, tapping out, out-of-rhythm, “No, no, no, no, no.” There was blood, running down the side of his neck, and horror kicked over fresh and new in Obi-Wan’s gut.

“It’s alright,” Obi-Wan blurted, his heart shattering a bit more in his chest with each beat. But-- but his heart had broken to pieces before. He’d kept living. “Cody, please, put the blaster down, please, don’t--”

Obi-Wan jerked when two other troopers grabbed his arm, hauling him to his feet, where he swayed, feeling disoriented and dizzy, sick. Cody had not moved at all, by the time the troopers dragged Obi-Wan through the door, past the bodies of their dead brothers, who they didn’t even regard. “Cody! Don’t! Please!”

Obi-Wan hung onto the sight of him as the droids cleaned him up, as troopers dragged him back to Anakin’s rooms - not his throne room, but - but what appeared to be his actual quarters. There were troopers in the room. Lined up along one wall. A single trooper across from them, blaster drawn, finger on the trigger. Anakin looked him over and said, his voice thick and rasping, “Get on the bed.”

Obi-Wan thought about a blaster pressed against the side of Cody’s head, about Padmé, about the slaughtered younglings, his family, his men, the only people he had left, who needed him…. And he turned, looked at the bed, and said, “Yes, Lord Vader.”

#whumptober2020 #no.16 #forced to beg #clone wars #fic #non con #torture #abuse of prisoner #mind control #dead dove do not eat #oof!au #my writing #codywan #vaderkin #dark fic #please mind the warnings #they're there for a reason #character death

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egoiistas · 3 years ago

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jewel of the sun (10) - heady

ffxiv - (ShB -EmetWol) The Warrior of Light shares a blanket under the stars with Emet-Selch. explicit

ao3

---

The night scatters across Il Mheg with regularity now and the light from Titania’s castle makes for a wonderful and quiet respite on the grassy knolls. The pastels are calming, the flowers are alluring, and the Warrior of Light can take a moment to simply breathe. Idly, her fingers play with the grapes from the basket she packed and absent-mindedly eats from it while losing herself in thought.

Yet she worries her lip because Bijou feels different when he’s not around; a gnawing sensation like when she’s forgetting something and doesn’t know what. Here, she knows exactly what she’s missing. It perplexes her because her lovers never left her like this. She’d break her own heart first rather than expect that they will wait for her or even ask it of them. It’s a resilient little thing, adamant and wonderful - probably the only thing about her that she can say is born of her and not manufactured or molded by someone else.

She knows her heart will not allow itself to be denied. From so many tragedies endured, it will take what it can get - even if it is at the hands of the enemy. To her, love is curing; a living, vibrant concept that most of her enemies lacked. Atop the Royal Menagerie, she would have chosen love and understanding over brawl and death.The Garlean prince, however, was different from her in that regard - or perhaps the notion was so foreign to him it did not register as a reasonable possibility. Something twists in her that sends a shudder knowing now that she’s dealing with his biological great grandfather, if only in image.

A sigh leaves her, heavy in her chest from how hollow it currently feels.

Last she saw him was in the Cabinet of Curiosity and she teleported from his grasp to the Crystarium aetheryte before the kiss could transpire. She knows she does not love him, but it’s as close as that kiss was

Bijou hums but it sounds more like a whine as she lies flat on her blanket to admire the stars above. What a nuisance.

In Il Mheg, the aether is always shifting from the Pixies’ mischief, so she doesn’t notice the warp of a portal spawn but she does hear the approach of footsteps. As if conditioned, her heart accelerates in her chest, but she half-expects it to be one of the Pixies. “You found me,” she says to the open air, reigning in her hope.

“With your aether calling out the way it is, it’s hard to neglect.”

Her body jolts to a sit and confirms what her ears received, and, sure enough, he stands at the foot end edge of her blanket with a hand on his hip. Emet-Selch bears an unimpressed look on his face as they stare at each other for a few more heartbeats.

As if to erect a barrier, Bijou brings her knees to her chest, coiling her arms around them and locking it with a grip on her wrist. “I wouldn’t know about that,” she replies.

“And yet, you are doing it all the same.” He gestures to the spot next to her. “May I?”

She shrugs and replaces the basket on the grass to allow him room. “Be my guest.”

Emet-Selch takes half a step forward before stopping himself. “Ah.”

“What is it?”

He looks as if he’s thinking with an index finger pointed skyward. “The royal attire makes it difficult to sit casually.” A snap cracks through the night air and his Garlean robes are gone. In its place is a loose, white tunic that dips into his sternum and regally flared sleeves, tucked into black breeches and boots. He looks tall, lean, and yes - somewhat handsome in the less formal outfit.

“I see,” she chuckles, nodding as he takes his place next to her. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Do you find yourself seducible this evening?”

“I suppose that remains to be seen.” Already, an ease washes over her from him, just from the light hearted banter.

In the dark, they sit in comfortable silence until he speaks again.

“Are you really unaware of the call to your aether?” He doesn’t ask this with disdain or condescension, but curiosity begging to be sated.

Bijou looks at him, in the middle of chewing another snack, and lets the question process. When she swallows, she shakes her head and says, “No, I wouldn’t have a clue about what you’re talking about. Are you sure it’s not the mischief Pixies in Il Mheg roping you into a joke?”

“No, you did it in the library too. This call.” He doesn’t look at her.

“I hate to be the one to disappoint you but I can assure you I’m not consciously doing anything of the sort. Perhaps you’re the one playing pranks on me?” She playfully rocks on her bottom to nudge her shoulder to his elbow when something electrifying courses through her at contact, but she doesn’t think anything of it.

Solemnly, he looks at his elbow and then to her with a side-eye glance.

“Well, what does it mean? Is it like a mating call or something?” she asks, popping a grape with a piece of cheese in her mouth.

“I’d hate to refer to it as something so banal, but in a way, yes.”

“Then how can I change the signal to bring forth non-Ascians?”

“You can’t.”

“Figures.”

Suddenly, Emet-Selch has something he wants to say, but refrains from doing so. She can see it by the look in his eyes. Instead, he exhales and adjusts his body to engage with her better. “Lend me your hand.” He leans on one palm and extends the other towards her.

Bijou glances between his open hand and his eyes - they’re imploring her to shelf her guarded skepticism for a moment. She humors him as more has happened between them already. When she does, his finger dwarfs hers as they curl around. He presses her knuckles onto his lips, muttering something unintelligible to her ears. It’s unfair how her heart leaps because of it. “What are you doing?”

“Responding to your call,” he says softly into the skin of her wrist and leaves a kiss there. “Telling your soul not to fret, because I’m here now.”

“My soul..?” Thoughts are expunged from her mind. She does feel at ease like she noted before, but now, she melts into him, under his lips blazing a trail up her forearm. With this intimate proximity, her fingers caresses the lobe of his ear sliding her way down to the clavicle and then his chest just as he reaches her neck. The spots he knows well are revealed to him once more as he uses teeth to scrape along her skin, igniting her body. His touch is unlike anything else; the simplest of brushes exhilarating her beyond belief.

As if her body calls out to him.

Emet-Selch shifts to bolster himself on his other arm now, angled across her frame, as the other hand finds hers at his chest and holds it there. His face becomes precariously close to her, but she feels the pull as natural as an intense magnetic pull. She can feel the tickle of his breath on her lips. “Do you feel me?”

“Yes,” she replies breathlessly. Her fingers close over his chest as if to claw into him, yearning for more of him to be nearer. “What is it?”

“I can’t tell you until you kiss me.”

“Then it must wait for another day.” Bijou laughs dryly, though she knows he’s serious.

Something registers in her ears that sound almost like a whine. He nudges her head to expose the other side of her neck that hasn’t been subjected to his teases. “Will you still let me have you here?”

How can she say no? She is barely upright as it is, eyes hardly even open. “Yes, of course.”

Whatever it is between them, she doesn’t have to have a name for it. Bijou feels this chemistry, this aetherial mingling of sorts, acutely. He dampens the corruption of the light, fills in the spots that are missing in her. His hands brush over her breast and then slide in between her legs to find her ready and ripe. She moans into him, as if she’s been waiting for his hand to be there all her life.

Whatever it is between them, it affects her physically. The presence alone activates a heady yearn and she can’t help herself any longer when he tempts her with his touch. Somehow he’s different too. His kisses on her shoulder are less bite and more loving caress than anything else.

She loosens his breeches and again, before she can think about pleasing him, he grabs her hips and pulls her on top of him. She grabs onto his shoulders before she can sink into him. She rubs herself along the length of his cock and he bites her wrists at one of his shoulders. All until she can no longer take her own teasing.

Bijou sighs into the air with bliss. Groaning, he fills her beyond what she thought she could handle given their differences. He moves her hips for her while holding her flush against him. The pace is slow and deliberate as if he’s basking in every ilm he’s allowed to touch her with. It’s tender. He’s tender. And their sex doesn’t make sense to her but she knows it feels right .

At the bottom of her abdomen, the coil is wrung tight from how she’s allowed to drink in every nerve pleased at that moment. She even moans his name which has him clutch her tighter.

The urge is there. The urge to kiss him rings true so loudly, but she bites her lip instead as the crest of her climax reaches its peak. She wants to kiss and know him and his taste; to grab his hair and have him moan into her mouth. She yearns for it.

Her arms clutch around him as her orgasm breaks through and shudders through her body. Without a moment to lose, he groans more audibly than she’s ever heard of him, nails raking through her outer thighs, as he spends himself inside her for the first time.

When she regains her bearings with him still inside, she looks at him and he smiles sweetly, sweat glistening on his brow from the light of Titania’s castle and the stars above. “Worry not, if you can’t get a hold of prophylactics - I’ll be sure to help you out.”

“You mean you can’t just snap it away?” she says, snapping her fingers by his ear.

“No,” he chuckles. “Not with matters such as these.”

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #ffxiv #ffxiv fanfiction #emetwol #very messy and rush love scene that was not given enough time loooool

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gauloiseblue · 4 years ago

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The Man Who Stood By The Ocean

[Chapter 4]

March, 1997

"Carina, come here. I bought us some sfogliatelle."

"Coming!"

You pat your hands on your skirt as you get up,

"Mimmo! Make us some tea."

"Sì, nonno."

Walking out from the shop, you smile as you hurriedly help signore Enrico setting up the table. You told him to sit and let you do the rest, but the old man just laughed.

"My knees aren't hurt at all, carina. I want to enjoy it while it lasts."

You rolled your eyes.

The table is finally set after you placed the last plastic stool by the table, and it didn't took long before Giuseppe came with a tray on his hand. The three of you immediately took a seat and begin to indulge in the hot beverage and sweet pastry. The weather is still cold, but at least the sun has started to show itself. Signore Enrico hums lightly as he sips the tea, he seems happy that he didn't need his cane for today's walk.

The snack he bought is being placed on the old ceramic plate, it's lightly dusted with powdered sugar for extra sweetness. You took a bite, and the flaky pastry crunched before the crumbs fall onto your palm. This sfogliatelle riccia is quite sugary, but there's a hint of citrus in its cream, balancing both sugar and ricotta cheese.

You begin to enjoy your tea while looking at the busy sidewalk. The weather is nice, and it seems to put everybody in a good mood. City cars passed the street once in a while, and some passerby greeted signore Enrico when they saw him. Occasionally, some of them even had a light conversation with him about the weather.

After finished up the snack, you excuse yourself to go back to the shop.

"Why are you in such a hurry? Stay for a little longer, cara." Signore Enrico begged, "The work can wait."

"I have to go home at 5, and I want to get everything done before that." You replied, "Thank you for the snack, signore."

He doesn't seem pleased by the answer, but he didn't insist you to stay either.

"Go help her, mimmo."

Giuseppe snapped his head towards him before he protests, "But nonno, she can do it herself—"

"Ay! Non parlarmi così! Essere un gentiluomo e aiutarla." (Don't talk to me like that! Be a gentleman and help her out.)

The younger man groans, but gets up from his seat nevertheless. His old man acts out by sipping his tea, but he couldn't hide the wide grin on his face. He's messing with his grandson, and he didn't even try to cover it up. Giuseppe scowls as he reluctantly follows after you.

You were just starting your work before you hear a rustling sound. Looking over your shoulder, you spot your friend lifting up the empty boxes you'd use for later.

"Here." He muttered as he delivers the boxes, "Where should I put them?"

"Oh, just put them here." You pat the free space beside you, he immediately places them down on your command.

He watches you taking a pile of book and begin to sort them out. The first book on the pile is a thin novel, and you didn't have to read them as you place it into the tall box. The second one is a children's book with a pristine cover, so it goes to the same box. But the third one goes to the smaller box, and it's an old illustration book of flora and fauna in Italy.

"So uh..." He scratches his head, "How do I help you with the book? Do you have a specific guide on how to sort them?"

"Well, it's pretty simple." You point at the tall box, "That box is for the books we're gonna keep, and the smaller one is for donation. But this—" You reach for the shortest box, "This is for the damaged books, or any book we couldn't sell or donate."

"Huh, alright." He frowns, "How do I know if it's no longer good enough to sell?"

You look at him dead in the eye, "... Are you serious?"

"Beh, I'm sorry I don't know anything about books like you! I never read them as much as you do."

"Pino, you—" You burst out laughing, "You—you're so silly, stop being so dense!"

The boy's face turns crimson when you laugh, "Hey, I'm trying to help you." He pouts.

"I'm sorry, it's—it's just funny." You stammered while chuckle, "You've spent most of your time in this shop, but you didn't know anything about books."

"It's not like that," He huffed, crossing both of his arm, "I just think that every book we have here is still worth selling, because mio nonno has taken a good care of them."

"Aww, that's sweet." You cooed, "I didn't expect it could come out of your mouth."

He looked away while rubbing the nape of his neck, seems flustered by your words.

"Just ask me if you're unable to decide it."

He nods before he sits near the empty boxes, the heavy books surround him with a few of them piled high on top of each other. You glance at him to see if he's having trouble, but he doesn't show any difficulty on sorting the books. He doesn't seem to need any help, so you resume your primary work. The two of you falls into silence as you focused on organizing the stack, but there's an occasion exchange of words when Giuseppe asked you about some books.

The 3rd box of saleable books is finally full, you close the top of the box before sealing them with weak adhesive tape.

"(Y/N), how about this one?"

You turned your head to him before your body went rigid. The book isn't in a good condition anymore, as a few pages of the book has come off. But that wasn't the reason your heart stopped, it's because of the illustration of a sleeping woman with a prince by her side is starting back at you.

La Bella Addormentata.

"I found it on the very bottom of the pile, do you think it's still good enough for donation?" He flipped the book to inspect the ruined cover, "I'm not sure if it's okay to give it as a donation, I mean, it's already in a pretty bad shape."

He tries to tidy up the book while waiting before he realize you were practically stunned, he furrows his brow in confused manner.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"Oh! It's, it's nothing." You bit your lips as you showed a troubled expression. He raises his eyebrow but before he could ask you once again, you already speak up, "Can I—uh, can I keep the book?"

"Sure, but why though?" He handed you the book, and with a stiff smile, you receive it as you reply,

"It's my favorite book."

—

The work was done faster than you though, thanks to Giuseppe. He ended up taking most of your portion when he got the hang of it, and he's surprisingly good at judging the book condition.

You already left the bookstore minutes ago, and now you've been walking around the town. It's still pretty early for you to go home, so you just wander aimlessly.

Sadly, it's no longer sunny. The clouds has been covering the sky with its thin veil, and turning the sun into a bleary round-shaped of light. Despite the lack of sunlight, you could still enjoy the weather. It's not as warm as spring, but you didn't need a second layer of clothes either.

It should've been enough to put you in a good mood, but it's rather the opposite. The weak sunlight isn't bright enough to illuminate the city, but the sky isn't dark enough to make people turn on their lights. Though it wasn't the reason behind your sour mood, you just hate cloudy day.

Slowly coming down from your thoughts, you chuckled when you realize where you've been heading to.

The dock.

The very place you swore you'll never set foot in again.

You shook your head in disbelief, what's up with you today? Even your mind couldn't stop tormenting you, as if the book inside your bag isn't enough.

Fine, you snapped at yourself, if that's what you want.

Standing on the lonely pier, you begin to feel the horrible emptiness gripping on your chest. This place overwhelms you with so many emotions, that you couldn't grasp nor understand.

What makes is so hard to forget? Why couldn't you even let go a piece of him? It's just a silly book, with a tale that's so impossible to happen, even in your wildest dreams.

Wiping off your tears, you curse while clutching your bag tightly. Maybe it's easier for you to just throw everything away into the sea, and just forget.

You unzipped your bag and reach for the 'La Bella Addormentata'. Why did you even beg to keep it? It's not even worth the pain. The thin, fragile book feels heavy on your hand as you grip it tightly, ...You couldn't throw it away.

You slump in defeat as you cried, four years, four years without a single word coming from him. How could you not think of the worst? If you know where he went, perhaps you'd just eat your heart out and you'll be fine the next day. But you didn't know anything, and you're foolishly in love.

Deep inside, you know you'll never be able to erase him. Because no one has ever looked at you so adoringly, as if you matter the most to them. No one could ever love you as much as he did, no one would ever give you their heart—with a smile and unconditional trust in such way that even you were afraid you'd incidentally break it.

If you would never had a chance to see him again, then so be it. You'll accept it, and you'll never love again.

You sat there for a while, drowning in your thoughts. Your tears were no longer come out, and a strange calmness washes over you. You snort, I knew it, it's just a coping mechanism.

The sea is pretty calm, even though there was a storm yesterday. You stare at horizon in daze, you didn't know what makes the sunset so beautiful. After all, it's just a daily occurrence.

You were too occupied by your thoughts that it took you more than a second before you feel the footsteps on the pier, you were not alone.

The wooden pier softly creaks everytime the man step closer, and the time seems to stop when you turn your head. Your blood drained from your face as your eyes widen to the point you almost believe they could come out. He seems to be in the same shock as you, but he recovers more quickly, you didn't know what to do.

"(Y/N)."

His voice is so intense, yet so delicate that you almost cry when you finally hear him called your name.

"Bruno."

The man in front of you is no longer a timid boy with his head slightly down, he's no longer the same boy you'd always teased about his height. He's now different, with his hair carefully combed, and standing tall in white suit with black dots. You fight the urge to rub your eyes, you couldn't believe it.

"Bruno, is it—is it really you?"

He smiles.

"Where have you been? Wh—why did you never send me a letter?" You begin to fumble with your words, "I've been searching for you, I searched for you everywhere! I—i..." You took a step towards him before you rose your hand to touch his face, his skin is warm under your touch. "...I missed you, I missed you so much..."

Bruno leans his face onto your hand, almost as if he could melt into your palm. And that gaze, the unwavering gaze filled with love and adoration that reflects his whole heart. It almost suffocate you.

He runs his fingers over your knuckles before he grasp them softly, kissing the inner surface of your hand. "Cara mia," He murmurs sotto voce, "I missed you, sono così dispiaciuto per tutto quanto." (I'm so sorry for everything)

"You—you have so many things to explain to me." You sniffle as you caress his cheek, "You have to tell me everything."

A gentle smile adorns his face, he softly nod and holds your hand tighter. "I will, cara mia. I promise you I will."

And as if pulled by a magnet, you find your hands wrapped around him tightly when you threw yourself into him. He holds you in his arms with the same hunger, and just like a puzzle, you can finally feel whole again.

#repost from ao3 #Jojo Part 5 #bruno bucciarati #bruno bucellati x reader

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amyscascadingtabs · 5 years ago

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look at where we are, look at where we started

He’s seen Amy sleep before, but never quite this close. She’s never slept on him, and he wonders if they’ve ever been this physically near each other for longer than a few seconds at a time. Her head is a warm weight on his shoulder, heavy without being uncomfortable, and he could probably smell her hair if he just leaned down slightly and it didn’t feel like a creepy thing to do on purpose.

Five times Amy fell asleep on Jake, and one time someone else did.

a.k.a. happy (two days late) birthday @johnny-and-dora! 💛

read on ao3

2014, april.

“This stakeout is a bust,” Amy huffs, throwing her binoculars on the moss-green bedspread that covers the twin-size beds in the cheap motel room. Jake begs they won't actually have to sleep in them later. He tried one out for mattress trampoline and it was rock hard, no bounce at all. His knees are still hurting.

“At this point, I bet there isn't even a drug-smuggling ring and Terry sent us out here to mess with us.”

“Woah, woah. Did I just hear this correctly?” Jake grins, turning his armchair towards her. “Amy Santiago, complaining about an order from a superior? This I gotta get on tape.”

“There's a difference between complaining and disobeying,” she remarks. “Come on, you know you agree with me. Nothing's happening over there!”

“Maybe, but now I have the high ground.” Jake stretches out his legs, putting his feet on the wall below the window. One perk of a gross motel room; no one notices if you make it dirtier. “So I’m going to brag forever.”

“Ugh. I thought this stakeout would be better if you talked so I’d have something to listen to, but it's worse.”

“That's hurtful.”

“Shut up, Peralta.”

“Fine.”

She goes silent. Jake tries to focus on what’s happening through the window they’re watching, but as much as he hates to admit it, Amy’s right. The parking lot they're watching is dead as can be, not as much as a sight of any suspects. He and Amy have spent most of the last hour placing bets on which birds will fly first from the nearby dilapidated tree. Amy won. Jake accused her of cheating, to which she simply responded that there was no possible way she could have been in cahoots with the birds, as he had put it. Jake muttered that he didn't trust her. She rolled her eyes at him. She also gave him a smug smile which, for the record, did not give him butterflies at all. It must have been hunger.

Amy giggles at something on her phone, and the weird probably-hunger-feeling flutters again in his chest as he watches her type a reply. Someone - he guesses Teddy - is making her laugh, and Jake feels the sting of some other gross and ugly emotion next to the non-butterflies. He wishes he was the one making her laugh, but this shift is too boring and they're both too tired and the closest he's come today is the cute snort she did when he used his worst French accent to narrate the process of a pigeon strutting around on top of a car for several minutes. It's not enough. He thinks of digging out the peanuts from his stakeout bag and suggesting another nut-throwing competition like the one they had on that roof two months ago, but as gross as the motel room is, Amy's definitely going to ask him to clean up if he gets peanuts all over the carpet, and that's just not worth it.

“How long until the relief’s team here?” He asks her, trying to hold on to the thought of his bed with its good mattress lump and pillows that at least don't smell vaguely of mold.

“Two hours,” Amy groans. “Ugh. That's an eternity.”

“We could sleep for an hour each?” Jake shrugs. “Nothing's happening anyway, and if it does, we just wake each other up.”

“Only if I get the first hour.”

“But it was my idea!”

“I’ll do your paperwork if I get the first hour.”

“Then sold.”

Amy smirks, looking pleased with herself. Jake feels his cheeks heat. The room’s air-conditioning must be busted, he figures, and hurries to pick up the file with information about their suspects before she can see him blushing.

He keeps his focus on the window, on the view of the desolate parking lot, anywhere that’s not on Amy curling up in the armchair next to his. The streetlights have gone on, lighting up the concrete and old cars and allowing him to see clearly just how depressive a view it is. This stakeout truly couldn’t be over soon enough. Jake turns his head to comment on this to Amy, only to find she’s already asleep.

She has shrugged off her shoes and curled up in the chair, hugging her legs for warmth in a way that makes her look less like an adult and more like an overgrown child looking for safety. She’s resting her head on her own shoulder, her mouth slightly agape, and Jake is gripped by the sudden urge to take a picture of her. He has been running low on new photos to humiliate Amy Santiago with recently, and an embarrassing shot like that would make for excellent leverage at some point. He reaches for his messenger bag on the bed, grabbing his phone from the outer pocket, and is just about to open the camera when Amy leans slightly to the side in her sleep so that her head falls on Jake’s shoulder.

Jake freezes. The camera opens to selfie mode, and he sees his own face staring back at him, paralyzed with surprise. He puts his phone back in his pocket instead.

Amy hums in her sleep, a soft, content noise that shapes the corners of his mouth into a small smile. Part of Jake wants to record this, use it to tease her mercilessly for the rest of their days, but there’s another voice in his head that is quietly whispering about how pleasant it feels. Not just pleasant; it feels natural, somehow, like they’ve done this a hundred times before and have a million more to go. It’s an insane thought, yet it’s persistent.

He wonders if Amy does this with Teddy. Then he scratches the thought, because he’s not supposed to be jealous of Teddy. He’s not supposed to care, or even like Amy at all. Really, he’s furious with her for falling asleep like this, because she’s way too close and way too cute and it’s making the irrational hope in his chest bubble when it should be dormant. If he turned his head right now, he could reach to kiss her forehead. Jake wonders what would happen if he did. Maybe she’d never find out, and it could stay his own secret, but there’s also the overhanging risk that she’d wake up and ask him what the hell he thought he was doing. It’s too big of a risk, especially considering he’s not sure of the answer himself. He doesn’t know what he’s doing a lot of the time, and when it comes to Amy Santiago, he never seems to be able to figure it out.

It doesn’t matter, he reminds himself. Amy’s with Teddy. Jake’s alone. It’s not like he’s in love with her or anything, and he should just move so she’ll have to change her position and he can focus on something else than the way her breathing sounds and how her hair is tickling his neck. If something ever happened between them romantic-styles, this could be his ordinary life, but nothing’s happening and he can’t go around waiting for it to. He shouldn’t be thinking about it. He can’t be thinking about it.

Jake doesn’t know for how long they sit like that, him staring out the window like the firework display of the century was happening outside to keep from glancing back at his sleeping colleague every other second, but it’s both too long and not long enough before Amy yawns and leans to the other side. It’s too long, because he’s hyper-aware of every passing second, and it’s not long enough, because his shoulder feels cold the second her head leaves it.

“Did I miss something exciting?” She asks when the shrill alarm on her phone goes off, waking her from slumber. “Did anything happen?”

“Nope,” he says, keeping his eyes stuck to the still eventless parking lot to avoid meeting her gaze and trying his best to sound nonchalant. “Nothing at all.”

2015, august.

“So tonight’s a big night for you,” Jake states before tossing his girlfriend the plus-sized bag of sour cream and onion chips and the bag of sour candy he bought just for the occasion. “Tonight’s the night you lose your Die Hard-virginity.”

“Gross.”

“What? It’s true! After this, Amy Santiago, you will be a changed woman, never to see the world the same way again. Virginity’s a social construct, but Die Hard-virginities?” Jake waves his index finger at her. “Those are real. I can't believe you haven't seen it!”

“I already told you, I’ve seen parts of it on TV, and I’ve heard you describe the plot at least once a week for the last six years. Feels like that's virtually the same thing.” Amy opens the chips bag, stuffing two into her mouth. She's already changed into the optimal movie night-outfit - pajama pants, black hoodie, and an old NYPD shirt - and is looking unfairly attractive to him right now. Only Amy Santiago could make pajamas look sexy.

“Oh, Ames.” Jake shakes his head. “You're sweet, but sadly wrong. As excellent as my summaries of Die Hard are, you are soon to be made aware of just how much they pale in comparison to the real thing.”

She rolls her eyes, but there's a certain twinkle of excitement there. “Just play the movie, babe.”

The usage of the word babe, like most other parts of their relationship, is still brand new. They've been dating for three months now, which is as long as Jake was with Sophia before they broke up, and he finds himself comparing the two relationships in his head sometimes, terrified this one will suffer the same fate. He's more careful this time, more vigilant to not let an accidental I love you slip out in case Amy doesn't feel the same way, more hesitant to randomly invite himself over in fear of intruding on her privacy. Most of the time, he's letting Amy lead the way, enjoying the steady growth of their relationship one day at a time. Because it is growing; every day it feels safer, more natural, much like the word babe has gone from feeling like a daunting and heartfelt declaration of love to a casual pet name that makes him feel all warm inside when he hears it.

He presses play on the remote and slumps down on the couch next to his girlfriend, grabbing one of his blankets and draping it over both of them. He found out early on in their relationship that Amy refuses to watch TV without a blanket, partly because she gets cold and partly just out of habit, which he finds kind of charming. It's fun to get to learn all these little details about her - he thought he knew so much, but it turns out he’d barely scratched the surface - but it's just as fun to introduce her to his world when she's actually showing enthusiasm about it.

“I'm just watching this movie because you made me,” she mumbles as she moves closer to him under the blanket, throwing an arm around his neck. “And because I'm a great girlfriend.”

“Nah, you're excited,” he grins. “You can try to hide it, but I know the truth.”

“I mean, I am kind of curious to see what it is you've been obsessing over for the last thirty years.”

“Twenty-seven.”

“Whatever,” she sighs, but then she pecks his lips and Jake can't hide the blushing that creeps up his cheeks, distracting him from watching John McClane get off the plane and grab his luggage before going to meet Argyle.

Jake loves Die Hard. He’s loved it since the first time he saw it, at a way younger age than any child should probably have been allowed to, and he can - and often will - quote it by heart. He knows every scene, every line and next to every little mannerism displayed by one of the characters, and yet he’s equally transfixed by it every time. Die Hard, to Jake, is safety. When almost everything else managed to hurt him somehow - when Roger ditched their planned father-and-son days to go have sex with some new woman whose name Jake would never learn, when he and Gina fought over something trivial that would pass in a few days but hurt like a bitch until then, when his mom was forced to work overtime to keep them afloat and he had to make his own dinner for the third time that week - Die Hard never did. Die Hard was Jake’s safety blanket, his escape each time the real world disappointed him, and it remains effective to this day. It cheers him up on a bad day and makes the good ones better. Some would call it hyperfixation; Jake calls it instant life improvement.

It’s kind of like Amy, he supposes as she snuggles into his side, her thighs resting against his and her head leaning on his shoulder the way it always does when they’re watching a movie together. Amy’s an instant life improvement, making bad days easier and the good ones even better. Even Die Hard seems more awesome when he’s watching it with her, which he frankly didn't think was possible, and he turns his head to tell her so when he realizes she's fallen asleep.

At first, Jake’s offended. This was an important night, and he had been looking forward to it for the three days it’s been since she promised him it would happen. You can’t discover the magic of Die Hard if you’re asleep while watching it. Plus, if Amy doesn’t watch this movie, she still won’t be able to understand his dope references, and the confused looks she gives him when he tries one are getting seriously repetitive. He considers waking her up, but then she nuzzles her nose against his neck and lets out a little yawn, and nothing in the universe could make him want to bother her.

Carefully, just because he gets to do those kinds of things now, he turns his head so he can press a kiss to the top of hers. He runs his hand through her hair, silky and smooth against his skin, and smiles as Amy hums in her sleep when he begins to draw hearts with his fingers against her neck.

He almost loses track of the movie for a while. For once, it doesn't bother him, because Amy Santiago is sleeping on him like he's her own personal safe place and Jake doesn't ever want her to move.

He can't remember if Sophia ever fell asleep on him when they were watching a movie. If she did, he knows it didn't feel like this. This feeling is intimacy and honor, something tender and vulnerable that's new and familiar all at once, and he's still getting used to it but he already knows he never wants it to end.

Amy doesn't blink herself awake until the end of the movie. She keeps her eyes open for the last few scenes, watching John and Holly kiss as the limo drives away from a burning Nakatomi Plaza, and doesn’t acknowledge the fact that she’s been out cold for most of the last two hours. Jake decides to have fun with it.

“So what’d you think of the movie?” He asks as he keeps the credits running, knowing she’ll complain if he turns them off.

“Oh, it was great,” she says, a little too cheery. “Loved it! For sure!”

“Really? What was your favorite scene?”

“When John saves Holly from being shot by Hans Gruber,” she decides, not missing a beat. “I think. I mean, there are lots of great scenes.”

“Mm, right at the end. Classic. So what more scenes did you like?”

“The one where John McClane says Yippee Kiyay, Motherfuckers?”

“Also a classic. Any more scenes?”

“The helicopter explosion?”

“Oh yeah, that one’s dope. But what about the luggage area shoutout?”

“It was great,” Amy says quickly. “Super cool. I get why you love it so much.”

“And when Holly knocks out a reporter’s front teeth?”

“Mm, she’s a total badass.”

“And when it’s revealed that Hans Gruber’s real name is actually Craig?”

“Oh, yeah - no, wait, that doesn’t seem right.” Amy pulls away from him so she can stare him in the eyes. “Jake, are you trying to trick me?”

“Hah! I am trying to trick you! The luggage area shoutout and the front teeth are from Die Hard 2! The second movie! And get this - the Craig thing wasn’t even real!”

“I got that, thanks.” Amy groans. “Sorry for falling asleep. I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay. I mean, I’m a little offended you think I’m that boring company, but it’s okay.”

“I don’t think you’re boring company,” she tells him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I promise. It’s just been a long week, and I was tired, but I didn’t want to cancel on you because I know how much you looked forward to this. It’s not Die Hard’s fault.”

“Ames, it’s okay.” Jake gives her a reassuring smile. “I promise. But you get what this means, right?”

“What does it mean?”

“It means we’re rewatching it again tomorrow. I’m not giving up until you’ve seen the entire movie without falling asleep, and that’s a Peralta guarantee. I’m not letting you remain a Die Hard-virgin.”

She throws a pillow in his face for that comment, but then she laughs, and it’s melodic and contagious and making him even more certain that dating Amy Santiago is the best thing in his life, even when she falls asleep during Die Hard.

2016, october.

Jake’s been on airplanes before, but he doubts he’s ever been this excited about it. Not even the dull pain in his leg that never quite leaves bothers him right now, nor the old lady in front of him talking way too loud about orchids. Even the fact that a kid has the seat behind him and is kicking him repeatedly in the back is okay this flight, because every single thing that could possibly annoy him pales in importance next to the beautiful woman in the seat next to him.

Jake is leaving Florida to go back to New York today, and Amy Santiago is right by his side. It's a wearier, maybe a little skinnier in a bad way, Amy than he's used to, one that's reading the flight security information with her stress-eyes while chewing nervously on her lip, but it's Amy. She insisted on staying by his side for every day he spent recovering at the hospital, sleeping on an uncomfortable foldout couch if not on the chair next to him, and he wonders quietly to himself when she last had a full night's sleep in a bed. The bags under her eyes and the built-up grease in her hair tells him she desperately needs it. He’s tried to tell her so - every night she stayed, he encouraged her to take in on a hotel to get some proper rest - but every night, she refused and said she wouldn't be able to sleep without him there anyway.

(“God, you're cheesy,” he’d told her once, but she had just shrugged.

“I shot you in the leg not even a week ago. Just let me have this.”)

His protests had been half-hearted anyway. Without her there, the pain was all he had to focus on, but as long as she made him company, nothing else mattered. They’d spent a week just talking, her telling him all about life at the precinct and cases she’d worked in the last six months while he tried to share the odd entertaining story from his Florida exile. When they got tired from talking, they snuggled in his hospital bed while trading soft kisses, and despite the pain from his bullet wound, the week had quickly soared to the top of the list of Jake's best weeks in the last six months.

He's had a good week alright, but now he's finally, finally going home with his girlfriend, and he's never been happier. The moment the airplane lifts, Jake's leaving Florida behind, and in just a few hours, he will be back to breathing regular, non-humid Brooklyn air again. He will be back to his tiny, worn-down but charming one-bedroom apartment, to dinners consisting of proper New York pizza instead of Florida’s crappy excuse for it, to real detective work, and, most importantly, to spending every free moment he has with Amy.

“I love you so much,” he whispers to her, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear and watching her smile as she looks up from the safety instructions.

“I love you so much too. Are you sure your leg is okay?”

“It's fine, Ames.” He’s trying not to think about it. It's easy as long as she's there.

“It's just an hour until you can take more painkillers. Hang in there,” she says, gently patting his non-injured thigh as the aircraft starts moving. “You ready to say goodbye to Florida?”

“I was ready to say goodbye to Florida the second I landed,” Jake says, a little too loud. A blond, middle-aged woman on the aisle across from gives him an angry look. He ignores it.

“I'm ready, too.” Amy takes his hand. “Let's go home, babe.”

They hold hands as they lift, watching through the airplane window as the ground gets farther and farther away, Coral Palms shrinking to a tiny speck. Jake vows to never go back. Everything and everyone he needs is in New York, and he can’t wait to sit at his desk again or see his mom or have a bro’s night with Charles. He’s missed it all, even the overpriced coffee and the crowded subway trains, but he’s already starting to feel like himself again, because the thing he missed most is currently leaning her head on his shoulder as she watches them rise above the clouds.

He presses a kiss to her forehead. She smiles, reaching up to kiss his cheek, and then she closes her eyes as the plane keeps rising. It’s only a minute or two before Jake can hear her breathing slow, and not much longer before she’s fast asleep with her head on his shoulder.

She sleeps for the rest of their three-hour flight, snoozing even through the alarm about his painkillers and every pilot announcement. His shoulder goes numb after a while, and he wonders if she’ll have a crick in her neck tomorrow from the awkward angle, but it’s the most peaceful he’s seen her in days, so he lets her be. He’s missed her falling asleep on him, missed being able to breathe in the scent of her hair and hold her so close while she rests. He’s forever grateful to have gained it back.

Amy flinches awake when the plane hits the tarmac, and Jake thinks to himself that it doesn’t matter how excited he is to be back in New York. In truth, he’s already home. He’s been home since the moment he first laid eyes on her again and she accidentally punched him in the throat, and if he has anything to say about it, he plans on never leaving.

2017, october.

Jake hates the nightmares.

He hates how realistic they are, how even though he should recognize them by now, they make his blood freeze to ice and his heart pound each time they return. He hates how often they appear, that his record without them isn't more than three nights in a row since he came home, and that not even the sleeping medication prescribed to him by the psychiatrist he was forced to visit can seem to prevent them. He hates how vulnerable they make him feel, waking up in a cold sweat trying to catch his breath, feeling like he's having an asthma attack and a bad fever all at once.

He hates every single thing about them, but most of all, he hates how they always seem to wake Amy up.

He just can't seem to learn how to suffer through them silently, or maybe Amy spends the nights guarding him, because he swears she's there every time he wakes up from one. Every time, she's there to stroke his hair and whisper to him that it's all okay; that he's safe, he's home, and he's not going anywhere. He loves her for it, whispers it to her when he calms down enough to speak, but he's ridden with guilt. He can handle his own sleep being ruined - he lost that fight long ago - but he draws the line at Amy having to suffer for it.

This night is no different. The dream seems new at first, hurtling him into a green landscape where he's sitting on a bench waiting to meet up with Charles, but when Charles appears, Melanie Hawkins is with him. Jake tries to protest, tell Charles he dreamed of never seeing Hawkins’ face again and could he please make her leave, only to find Charles has turned into Romero and is angling a sharpened shiv at Jake's neck. He tries to take a step backward, hoping to run away, but he falls and lands on his back in the wet grass. Hawkins and Romero are leaning over him, Romero still holding the weapon. Jake feels Melanie’s hair tickle his cheek, flinching as she seems to hover uncomfortably close to him, and it's first when she speaks that he realizes it's not Melanie, it's Amy.

“Jake? Jake, are you okay?”

The wet grass isn't grass - it's his sheets, damp from sweat and tangled around him. Romero is nowhere to be seen, and the figure he thought was Hawkins is really his girlfriend, leaning over him and repeating his name in an attempt to make contact.

It takes more self-control than he knew he had in him, but he manages a nod.

“Another nightmare?” He manages another, reaching for her hand and squeezing it tight.

“It’s okay,” she whispers, pressing it back. “I’m here. You’re safe. Can you take deep breaths? In for four, out for four,” she coaches him, and he follows her instructions, breathing along with her as he’s pulled back to reality.

“It’s warm,” he mumbles when he thinks his voice won’t falter, but Amy shakes her head.

“I think that’s just the panic making you sweat, babe. I can get you a new shirt -”

“No, it’s… I think I’m going to take a shower,” he decides. He’s been taking a lot of nighttime showers lately, trying to wash away the fear and panic that seems to cling to his skin like a physical sensation after each nightmare. “You can go back to sleep, Ames.”

She nods, but he can see her turning on the nightlight as he leaves for the bathroom.

He stands in the shower for a while, letting the warm water run over him and counting the ways in his head that it’s different from prison. One, he doesn’t have to share this shower with a bunch of strangers staring at him. Two, the water pressure’s good and the temperature doesn’t randomly shift from icy to burning. Three, he’s free to steal Amy’s shower gel that smells like pink grapefruit and doesn’t contain as much as a trace of meth. Four, someone’s laid out a towel and a new t-shirt on the floor for him when he gets out. Five, Amy’s waiting for him in the next room. It’s the fifth point that makes him dry off quickly and throw on the shirt before returning to the bedroom.

He finds her sitting up against the headboard, a book open in her lap that she may or may not actually be reading, and the guilt washes over him another time as he notices her trying to stifle a yawn.

“I told you to go to sleep,” he says, and she gives him a half-hearted smile.

“I know.”

“You don’t have to guard me, Ames. It’s fine.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m not guarding you. I’m being your partner and making sure you’re okay, and I’m doing it because I love you and I want to.”

“I love you, too.” He sits down on the bed, putting his part of the comforter over his legs and his pillow against the headboard. “And I’m okay. I might be awake for a while, but please, babe - you can go back to sleep.”

Amy watches him closely, giving him the worried look he’s become used to in the last few weeks, but then she nods.

“I’ll try.”

She turns off the nightlight, and Jake settles for playing a mindless game on his phone, letting the repetition of matching colorful figures distract him. Amy rests her head on his shoulder, and it’s almost reflexive when he turns on the yellow light-setting on his phone so it won’t disturb her. The weight of her head grows heavier, and two rounds of Candy Crush Saga later, he can tell she’s asleep.

He helps her lay down, adjusting the pillows so he knows she’ll be comfortable. Then he tries to sit up again, but she reaches out for him in her sleep and frowns, so he puts his phone away and lays down next to her, wrapping his arms around her and smiling as she squishes her nose in the crook of his neck.

They sleep like that for the rest of the night.

2020, april.

There's been a lot of changes in routine in the Santiago-Peralta home since they first found out they were having a baby. Some have been unintentional, such as Amy sleeping in every morning she can and napping at least once per day because pregnancy is exhausting. Some have been planned out in advance, like one night per week being designated to going through a topic from Amy's detailed list of things they need to discuss before they become parents - a list which ranges from nursery themes and sleep training to family holidays and babysitters. Some have been a mix of both, single events becoming patterns, like Jake rubbing the fancy stretchmark-preventing oil on Amy's stomach near every evening or them spending weeknights on the couch drinking tea and reading parenting books together. Their lives are transforming before their kid is even born, after-work drinks at Shaw’s switched for researching the best cribs and strollers online, and Jake is finding that it doesn’t upset him in the slightest. Rather, it’s exciting, and it feels right.

With Amy just having entered her thirteenth week of pregnancy, the arrival of their baby seems far away still, but it’s starting to feel all the more real. Last week’s framed sonogram now takes pride of place on the dresser in their bedroom, put there so they’ll have time to hide it in case Charles decides to stop by on one of his many unannounced visits, and each morning when Jake grabs a new t-shirt he stops and looks at the monochrome picture for a moment.

That’s their child right there, no more than a few centimeters long and only just having gotten all their important organs in place, but somehow already holding so much of his heart.

He’s still nervous about fatherhood. The list of things that could go wrong, unlucky mistakes and faulty decisions he could make, seems endless. He’s scared of not knowing what to do, scared his kid will hate him, and scared he won’t be able to protect them from everything he’s supposed to. He’s scared he won’t feel the instant and overwhelming love that everyone seems to speak of upon seeing their baby for the first time and he’s scared he’ll feel too much of it. The more real it becomes, the more terrifying it gets, and it’s only the excitement that’s stronger. For every tiny onesie he buys, every suggestion they add to the growing list of possible baby names, and every new weekly size comparison to a fruit or vegetable, Jake looks even more forward to meeting this child. He wants to see them, feel them, hold them, and learn everything there is to know about them. He knows they’re the size of a lime this week, that they’re healthy with a nice and strong heartbeat and that they’re wriggling around like crazy inside Amy even though she claims she can’t feel anything yet, but he wants to know more. The 194 days left until their due date seem like an eternity, and at the same time, it’s surreal to think he can count the days until they could be sitting on this couch with their baby.

Tonight, though, it’s still just the two of them. Amy’s parked herself in one corner of the couch and is reading a book on hypnobirthing, while Jake’s at the other end flipping through Bruce Willis’ book on parenthood. He’s not sure if all the advice in it is sound - or in some cases, fully legal - but he figures the more parenting books he reads, the better equipped he’ll be to figure out what’s sane and not. Jake trusts Bruce Willis with his life, but he does have some doubts about whether playing the Die Hard-soundtrack on maximum volume really is the best way to calm down a screaming baby.

He’s watching Amy over the edge of his book, making note of how she’s doing, if it looks like she needs anything. It doesn’t seem like she’s going to be sick, she’s not shivering nor sweating and her lip’s not trembling like it tends to do before she starts crying, but every now and then it seems like her eyes are falling and she has to shake her head to keep from nodding off. He decides to ask.

“Are you doing okay, Ames?”

“I don’t think I like being pregnant yet,” she huffs, closing the book and putting it on the coffee table with a thud. “I’m so tired, I can’t even read. What’s the point of anything if you can’t read, Jake?”

“Sounds rough,” he says, trying not to grin. He probably shouldn’t be making fun of her, but it’s such an Amy thing to be upset with, he can’t help it.

“It is! I’m trying to read up on breathing techniques so I can get this baby out eventually, and that’s what I get in return? It’s like this kid doesn’t want to be born,” she grumbles, touching the top of where her stomach has started to curve ever-so-slightly.

“I’m sure it’s not their fault, babe.”

“I know it’s not their fault, “ she replies, giving him an apologetic smile and a shrug. “It’s okay. I’m just tired of being exhausted, and feeling constantly motion-sick, and I miss being able to have more than one cup of coffee per day. All my clothes are becoming too tight, but I don’t really look pregnant yet, so it just looks like I gained a bit of weight.” She sighs. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be complaining about this.”

Jake frowns. “Why not?”

“Because we tried for so long! I spent ages thinking I’d give anything if we could just get pregnant, and now we are, and I’m whining like some ungrateful toddler who just got told they can’t have ice cream for dinner.” Amy goes silent for a moment, staring longingly at their freezer. “I shouldn’t have said that. Now I want ice cream.”

“Is that code for me to get you ice cream?”

“No. Maybe. Yes. Later. ”

“Just say the word.”

“Do you think I’m being ungrateful, Jake?” She bites her lip the way she does when she’s nervous, twisting her hands in her lap. “Because I feel like I am, and I hate it. I’m so happy about this baby, and I can’t wait to meet them. Pregnancy’s just way more annoying than I thought it’d be.”

“You’re not ungrateful,” he assures her, putting down his book before reaching for her hands and taking them in his. “I promise. I don’t know what it’s like to grow a human with my body, but if it’s as tiring as you describe it - I swear I don’t know how you do it. I’m pretty sure I’d be awful at it if I ever got to try.”

Amy giggles. “Yeah, you would.”

“Thanks for the confidence.”

“Anytime.”

“Point is, babe, you get to complain as much as you want. I know how much you’ll love this child, and that doesn’t disappear because you think pregnancy is hard some days. You’re still doing it. And,” he looks to where he can see her belly beginning to take a rounder shape, the corners of his mouth instinctively turning into a smile. “You look adorable. Full stop.”

She blushes. “I do?”

“You’re the cutest pregnant person I ever saw,” he promises, repeating the same thing he thinks every time he sees her.

“Even when I sweat through my clothes or puke my guts out because I found a new smell I couldn’t stand?”

“Even then.”

“Wow,” Amy laughs. “You really must love me.”

“I really, really do.”

She leans forward, cupping his face the way she likes to do when she kisses him, the way she’s done since the first time she pressed him up against a tree when they were undercover and the way he hopes she’ll do for many years to come. It’s soft without being lazy, firm without being demanding, and his heart flutters as he feels her smile against his lips.

“Do you want me to read aloud to you?” He asks when they separate, Amy leaning her head on his chest. She nods, and he picks up the book where she left it, continuing to read something about the power of wording that doesn’t fully make sense to him while Amy turns around so she’s laying in his arms.

Jake reads until he can hear her breathing slow and even out, telling him she’s fallen asleep. Once he’s certain it won’t wake her up, he lets her hand stray to her stomach, pulling up the tank top slightly and stroking gently over the tiny bump that’s started taking shape.

That’s their child in there, he reminds himself, marveling over the insanity of it all. He still has to pinch himself sometimes to remember that any of this is real, but whatever the future holds, he knows he can’t wait to experience it with them; Amy, and the lime-sized little bean growing inside of her.

2020, november.

Leonel Jacob Peralta isn’t anything like Jake thought he’d be.

He's bigger than he had guessed - Amy won the bet on who could be closest to guessing their son’s birth weight and height - but smaller than he pictured in his head, almost drowning in the newborn-size pajamas with a pattern of grey stars and striped hat. He looks less like the copy of Amy that he’d visualized, but he's not a copy of Jake either, despite Charles’ claims. He's calmer than they expected, having slept through most of his first day aside from the occasional feeding attempt and diaper change, but they know from the moment he took his first breath that he has a powerful voice.

Most strikingly, he is infinitely more perfect than Jake could have ever imagined.

After coming into the world with the sunrise, his son has had a long and eventful first day of life. He’s had visitors, Charles and Holt and Rosa being first in line to meet and hold and fawn over him. He even opened his eyes for a moment while Holt held him, causing Jake to tear up as he dutifully followed Amy’s orders to take a picture. He’s facetimed with his maternal grandparents and several of his uncles, gotten well-wishes on social media from just about every employee of the 99th precinct and has received more gifts than Jake supposes any newborn could really need. Looking at their list of visitors scheduled for tomorrow, he’s come to the conclusion that his and Amy’s son is already way more popular than either of them has ever been.

Leo’s parents have had a long day, too, and a long night before that, but somehow, Jake doesn’t feel tired. Amy’s finally sleeping in the hospital bed next to him, passed out on her side with her mouth open and a little bit of drool on her pillow. Her hair is a mess and her hospital gown has the two top buttons undone, and yet the first word that comes to mind when Jake looks at her is badass. Not a single day goes by that he’s not proud of his wife for everything she does, but after today, that level of pride has skyrocketed past the moon and sun and the entire milky way. His wife is a superhero and their son is magic, pure and undiluted magic that is resting in Jake’s arms.

If this had been an ordinary evening, he might have been focusing on the discomfort of the stiff armchair he’s sitting in, how the temperature of the room is slightly too warm or how he’s getting kind of hungry, but tonight, he’s barely registering anything else. His son is in his arms, opening and closing his fists with full concentration, and he’s watching him with the most focused gaze Jake’s ever seen in a baby. This kid is staring right into his soul like he’s trying to learn every detail and secret about him, and Jake would have been unnerved by it if it hadn’t felt so right.

Jake spent a long time wondering if he was the right person to have kids. He was so scared of being a bad parent, he didn’t dare to dream of what he could have if he were to be a good one. He’s still scared, has accepted he might always be, but he looks into his son’s eyes and knows deep in his bones that he’ll do everything to make sure this child grows up knowing exactly how beloved and important he is.

Jake doesn’t know what fathers and sons do, but he gets to find out, and finding it out with Leo is the only thing he’s ever wanted.

He still doesn’t know a lot about his son, but he’s trying to learn everything. He has his stats memorized, knows he’s six and a half pounds and nineteen inches of absolute perfection. His camera roll is already filled with close-up pictures of his round cheeks, button nose and thick, dark hair that curls a little near his neck. He knows he’s changed their lives forever, and that it’s guaranteed to be for the better.

Leo stretches his legs inside the blanket, trying to wave his arm, and Jake laughs.

“Too excited about the world to sleep, huh? I get you. Sometimes I feel the same way.” Leo gurgles, which Jake decides to interpret as an okay to keep talking.

“I love you so much,” he whispers to his son without breaking their eye contact. “So, so, much. It’s kind of insane. You were so longed for, and so wanted, and it’s crazy that you’re finally here. Especially considering you weren’t supposed to come out for another week,” he jokes, grinning. “I’m just kidding, that was totally expected. It’s your Santiago genes. It’s still crazy, though. I can’t believe you’re here with us.”

He leans down, kissing both of his son’s cheeks for the fiftieth-or-so time that day.

“It’s a scary world out there. I’m sorry about that. But it’s a little less scary when you’re surrounded by the people you love, and your mom and I will do our everything to keep you safe through the scary parts.” Leo yawns, sticking his little tongue out, and Jake can’t help but smile at the overwhelming cuteness.

“We love you. I love you. More than you understand. Honestly, I don’t think I understand it myself yet, but I don’t care. It’s all good, buddy,” he says, nudging Leo’s fist with his index finger until the newborn grips it. “It’s all good, because you’re here with me, and we’re going to be okay.” Leo lets out a tiny squeak. “Yeah, we are. I promise.”

Either Leo’s unconvinced, or something else is bothering him, because the squeaking noises continue. Gently, as if he was handling the finest of porcelain, Jake holds one hand under his son’s head and lifts him so that he’s upright against his chest instead. He’s not entirely sure what he’s doing, but he’s read that babies like to be close, and Leo does seem happier as his nose presses against his neck. Jake strokes the baby’s back through the blue-and-pink hospital blanket, humming the first Taylor Swift song he can think of - Shake it off, always right. It’s only a minute, maybe two, before the newborn stops fussing, and Jake realizes that his son has fallen asleep.

It’s late in the evening of the early November day Jake will forever have written down as their son’s birthday, and he’s sitting in an uncomfortable armchair in a hospital room in Brooklyn, the love of his life still passed out in bed next to him. Their son is sleeping with his head resting on Jake’s shoulder, like Amy has done so many times before, and he can’t remember ever feeling this peaceful in his life. Leonel is warm and soft and smells as if heaven had a scent, and Jake is so in love.

There had been a time, not too many years ago, where Jake had dreamt about dying a heroic death trying to save the city from evil or working himself to the bone trying to become the most successful cop in New York. Now, every single one of his dreams circle back to the same focal point - a boundless, incandescent hope that he gets to keep being a safe place and favorite sleeping spot for the two people who hold his entire heart.

#team leo but make it original!#brooklyn nine-nine #b99 fanfiction #peraltiago fanfiction #b99 #peraltiago #jake x amy fanfiction #my writing

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x-ia-n · 4 years ago

Text

━ as the world caves in.

➞ including: tooru oikawa, gn!reader

overview: people from different universes can hear what song their soulmate if listening to.

word count: 1.1k

➼ haikyuu masterlist

↳ main masterlist

↦ angst, mentions of physical pain, suicide

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

✧i got permission from the creator, @peateaa on tiktok, to write something based on this.✧

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

‘it’s all too much.’ you think to yourself, writing the final lines of the letter you wish to leave behind.

‘it hurts so much.’

you placed your pen on top of the letter, leaving it on the desk. you spun slowly, taking in image of your bedroom, the only safe space you’ve had in a long time. a small photo taped on the wall caught your eye. it was a picture of an anime character, tooru oikawa. you found yourself walking towards it, and gently placing a hand on it. you sighed to yourself, “if only you were real.”

maybe if he were real, he’d talk you out of this. if he were real, you’d have an ounce of happiness you so longed for. but he isn’t.

the harsh truth slapped you, and you realize you’ve been staring at the picture for quite a bit.

dressed in your favorite clothes, you left your room, earphones plugged in with music blasting at full volume. you walked across your rooftop, the wind messing up your hair. you watch the clouds go by, sitting at the edge of the roof.

――

at the other end of the universe, a whistle blew, signalling a point for a team. tooru pants, flashing a smile at hajime. aoba johsai managed to force karasuno into a deuce for their third set. “iwa-chan.” he calls out, hearing the familiar song at the back of his head.

“they’re listening to it again.” he exclaimed. hajime looks at him briefly, “again? it must be their favorite song, then.”

“listen, trashykawa. i know they’re your soulmate but you gotta focus.” he reprimanded, now looking at the other end of the court, where karasuno are staring at them with such tenacity. they all are after the same thing, to be the team that wins.

“i’ll find you. i promise.” tooru whispers to himself, just as the umpire blows the whistle. tooru sends another serve, even more determined to win this match. in his head, the sooner they win, the sooner he could look for his soulmate.

there’s no distance he won’t go through to look for the one the universe gave him.

――

you looked down at the pavement below. taking a deep breath, you stand up and turn around from the edge. there were no more tears to shed at this point. staring back up at the sky, you felt tears drip down your face as you began to apologize.

you started to apologize to those you felt still cared. to those you have hurt, those who have hurt you. you began apologizing to yourself, knowing you deserve better than what you received, that you deserve better than how other people have treated you, how you treated yourself.

finally, you whispered your apologies to your soulmate. you apologized for never getting to meet them, for not being strong enough to push through. and you pray to whatever greater being there is, for your soulmate to be happy, and for them to understand that this… this is the only thing to stop the pain.

the wind will carry your apologies for you.

the tears you shed were not because you were sad, on the contrary, it’s more so because you felt like you were in charge of your life for once.

you stepped back, letting yourself fall with no regrets, because you’ll be at peace.

――

just as akira managed to send the ball to the other side of the court, tooru felt a sharp pain in his chest. “iwa-” he choked out, his hands clutching his chest before falling to his knees. their coach noticed the captain in pain and called for a time-out almost immediately. hajime knelt down in front of his best friend, asking him what’s wrong.

“iwa, my heart and head hurts. why is my heart hurting so much?” tooru grunted in pain, tears leaking out of his eyes. both teams gathered around the pair, but the setter didn’t mind. he just wanted the pain to stop. hajime looked to their team for help, but none of them knew what was going on. tooru never had any health conditions aside from his injured knee.

he grabbed the ace’s arm and squeezed, barely breathing due to the immense pain he’s feeling. “my body feels weird, and everything hurts!” he sobbed, not caring about how loud he was.

the aoba johsai coaches got through the crowd and hooked their arms under tooru’s. “you’re gonna have to stand up, oikawa.” the head coach says, before they hoisted him up. at least, tried to.

the brunet’s knees gave out and he fell forwards, his fellow third years catching him.

“what’s happening? please, make it stop!” he wails, the pain increasing by the second. his head was pounding, he could barely make out anything that’s happening around him. their coach tries to get him to describe the pain as the head coach calls an ambulance.

“it hurts! please!” he begs to no one in particular. the last thing tooru remembers is hajime’s worried face hovering over him.

―

all around him was brightness.

the pain in his chest has dulled, and the headache is practically non-existent. searing white lights stung his eyes as they opened. he noticed he was at the hospital, judging from the white gown he wore. tooru bolted up, waking the sleeping hajime and issei. “oh, oikawa. you’re awake. i’ll go get the nurse.” the latter says in a hurry.

“iwa-chan, what happened? what about the game-”

“we lost.” hajime interrupted. “but that’s not important.”

tooru looked appalled. “not important? iwa-chan, the game is important. what happened when i was out?”

his friend stood up, and started to pace around the room. “i… i don’t know how to tell you.”

tooru wanted to burst, but seeing the expression on hajime’s face made him falter. “what is it? was it tobio-chan? or the shrimp? i’d be surprised if it was mr. refreshing-”

“it’s not about the game, oikawa.”

he stopped talking. hajime would only use the name ‘oikawa’ in serious matters. “...hajime?”

“the pain you felt… shit, i don’t know how to tell you.”

the captain felt tears brimming in his eyes as he whimpered out, “please.”

hajime sighed, and sat on the chair beside the bed. he took a deep breath and said in a soft voice, “there isn’t an easy way to tell you this. i wish there was.”

there was a long pause before he spoke again. “the pain you felt… it is because your soulmate died.”

tooru didn’t have the energy to protest, he didn’t even have the energy to speak. he just let his tears fall, and he let hajime rub his back in comforting circles. the deafening silence of the room was occasionally broken by the sound of his pained sobs and whimpers.

and just like that, the two most important things to tooru oikawa are gone.

#haikyuu angst #oikawa angst #oikawa x y/n #oikawa torū #oikawa x reader #haikyuu #oikawa imagine #haikyuu imagine #oikawa tooru #tooru oikawa x reader #toru oikawa #oikawa scenarios #haikyuu!!#tw// suicide

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distinctlywhumpthing · 3 years ago

Text

Together 7: First lash.

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CW: explicit language and content, multiple whumpees, torture, captivity, restraints, vomit, beating, blood, welts, hunger/starvation, conditioning, dehumanization, multiple whumpers, masked whumper (clown mask), letmeknowifimissedany

They’re taking her out when I wake up. She goes quietly. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. My empty stomach is nauseatingly sour. I pace the small room. The basement floor is damp like it’s absorbing moisture from below. I think about last night. Who knows how long she was silently crying. If she’s not going to talk, I should wait until I can see her face to make sure I don’t upset her again. I don’t know who these people are or why I’m here. I hate to think what it means if someone like her, so innocent and fragile, is here and acts like that.

I follow her example and cooperate when they collect me in their ski masks even though they put a pillowcase over my head and for all I know she’s never coming back. They take me into a room down the hallway and the floor is the same concrete the whole way. I keep having to swallow. My saliva feels thick and I can’t seem to get it out of my mouth no matter how much I gulp it down.

Heavy hands force me to my knees and pull my hands over my head. They bind my wrists in restraints, tightening them until I can feel the places the cotton padding has been worn down and the leather bites into my skin. I can’t help but picture her delicate wrists as the ones that broke them in. They do the same to my ankles, trapping me in an L-shape before pulling off the pillowcase and leaving me in the dark. It smells like metal. I think I’m chained to the floor and ceiling but there’s not a single link of slack.

I vomit thick spit and bile onto the floor. My stomach continues heaving even when all that’s left is saliva dragging its way down my lower lip. It sticks to my chin when I whip my head up at the sound of the door opening. I see a silhouette before they close us into darkness. A few seconds later, a light comes on. He’s dressed exactly like the others except, instead of a ski mask, he’s wearing a clown mask. We used to put on the scary versions with bloody, unnatural mouths and wrinkles in the rubber at the team house for the Halloween party every year, snaking the hose up the neck opening to do keg stands.

His mask is just smooth white with downturned eyes and a cartoonish smile—definitely worse than Twisty. It must be lined with black mesh because I can’t see anything underneath. He stands there, jeering at me. My tongue feels like a rock and my throat is still thick. I don’t know if I should say there’s been a misunderstanding or beg or just stay silent. I go with the latter, hoping that maybe that her silence is strategic. I try not to think about her spending any time here. He takes slow, measured steps forward to pick something up, let’s it unroll so I can see. All the moisture feels gone. I can’t even swallow.

I count the first handful of swings, still managing to stay quiet except for my breath. They’re burning and sharp.

When I lose count, I start begging, “Please stop, please I’ll do anything, please!!”

The welts begin to layer themselves into a blazing, throbbing ache.

“What do you wan—nnghh—”

I can’t breathe, my face is covered with spit, snot, and drool as I scream. The air doesn’t seem to reach my lungs but I know it’s there because it’s against my legs and the belt slices through it audibly with each swing.

I’m openly sobbing now. “I don’t even know why I’m h—agghhh—”

I dissolve into pleading incoherently. There’s a moment, between each blow, as the belt drags across the back of my calves, that a wild part of my mind panics that they’re gone completely because it doesn’t feel right, the whisper sensation, even pulling through the rawness, after the sharp pain. Eventually, it changes when the leather starts to drag through blood.

—

Something touches my face and I lash out. She’s already keeping her distance so, thankfully, I don’t hit her before I realize where I am.

“M’sorry,” I croak, trying to focus on her face. I can’t let myself focus on anything else.

She’s sitting on her heels, pressed into the corner between her bed and the cabinet, her fingers twisted together. When I meet her gaze, she leans forward, resting her elbows on the floor, lowering herself into my line of sight. Her wide eyes are puffy and rimmed with red.

I hate to think of her crying again.

She tilts her head to the side, gaze slipping from my face to my legs. When she looks at me again, she pulls her bottom lip into her mouth.

I don’t know if I can push myself up to really look. My head still feels heavy and clouded, either from the pain or from however long it has been since I last ate. I look over my shoulder as best I can, head aching when my eyes reach the limit of their range of motion. My calves are wrapped in clean white gauze and so are my feet. The borders of the pain had been so blurred, I had no idea it included my feet.

“S’not so bad,” I mumble.

I look back at her, too fast, and my head swims.

“Mnnnm,” I groan, squeezing my eyes shut.

When I open them after a few breaths, she’s holding a cup of water. Tilts it gently against my lips so I don’t have to move. She gets me a second cup when I finish.

“Thank you, Doll,” I say, smiling what I hope is a non-threatening smile.

She dips her head once in a nod and looks me over again, bites her lip.

“What is it?” I ask, even though I’m guessing she won’t answer.

Her eyes look up to the bed.

There’s only one reason I’m not screaming in pain and that’s because I am not moving. I can pretend that the pain is a separate entity, far away. If I move, it will migrate, overbearing and all-consuming.

“I think I’ll just spend the night here,” I say casually like I’m just going to stay at my parents’ because I don’t feel like driving back to campus. I wonder if they even care that I’m missing.

She purses her lips and looks down at the floor.

It’s wet. I know this. I can feel that my clothes are damp but it’s just as likely sweat. It doesn’t feel particularly dirty even though I’m sure it’s also not clean.

“Sweetie, I don’t think I can move,” I whisper.

That doesn’t go over well. She seems so distraught by the idea. Her eyes flick all over the room like she’s hoping to suddenly find some other way to help me as she presses her trembling lips together. I find myself willing to undergo a little suffering if there’s any chance it will comfort her.

“Okay, hey—I’ll give it a try,” I offer, unconvincing in my attempt to sound light. I start pushing myself onto my hands and knees.

She rushes to help me even though she flinches away from me and I’m pretty sure I could overlap my fingers, maybe even twice, around her upper arm. I get my body onto the bed and then she proves herself stronger than she looks when she lifts my legs, one at a time, so I don’t have to.

I’m still winded and dizzy by the time I get up there. I’ve never felt so exhausted.

“Teamwork makes the dream work,” I manage to huff.

That earns me a twitch of her lip. The closest thing I’ve seen to a smile since we met.

She brings me another cup of water. Helps me drink and then gently sweeps my hair off my forehead so she can dab a cool cloth there. She refolds the towel and leaves it draped over the back of my neck before moving to sit on her bed. She tucks her feet underneath her legs and starts playing with her hair. She finds a braid, undoes it, and seperates it into two even smaller braids, quickly, over and over. I fall asleep watching her long, nimble fingers.

—

She wakes me up later, or maybe it’s the next day, with another wet cloth but the first thing I notice is that I can smell food. Her gaze directs me to the two soups sitting on the metal cabinet but she looks back at me, furrowing her brow.

“I think I can sit up,” I say, guessing her concern.

She holds onto my shoulders as I do it, even though if I went down she’d go with me. I sit with my knees up and gingerly place my feet on the mattress in front of me. It seems they only caught stray lashes, so they aren’t feeling nearly as awful as my calves. I lean my head against the wall to catch my breath. I’m sweating and dizzy from the movement, I need to eat.

She comes to sit next to me with the soup, clearly intending to feed it to me with the plastic spoon.

I smile at her. “You’re such an angel—you don’t have to do that.”

She shakes her head, looking down, like she doesn’t mind, but passes me the soup anyway.

About halfway through scarfing it down, she reaches over to rest her fingertip on the handle of my spoon before I can use it to shovel more into my mouth.

“Oh, I should probably eat slower…”

She dips her head once in a nod, then looks down at her hands.

“You should eat, too, while it’s still hot,” I tell her.

Her dark eyes trace my posture and search my face.

I insist, “I’m feeling much better, I promise. Please eat.”

She turns and I notice the whole side of her face is bruising. It wasn’t there before, they must have taken her while I was asleep. Even the corner of her eye looks bloodshot.

“Hey, your face—” I say, reaching out without thinking.

She flinches out of reach so fast that she falls onto the ground, eyes locked on my hand.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I apologize quickly, trying to keep my voice soft. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Honey. I swear I won’t hurt you.”

She swallows, still cowering on the floor, her lower lip trembling. She’s so afraid and skittish, with those impossibly wide eyes that do something to me.

I wait for a few more breaths but she still hasn’t recovered. “Are you okay?” I whisper.

My question seems to make it worse. She closes her eyes, her face growing lined, and her breathing starts to silently hitch. She’s crying.

“Hey, hey,” I murmur. I have no idea how to comfort her when I have no idea what she’s been through and I’m the idiot making it worse. “Please, it’s okay. It’s just you and me. We’re alright, Love.” I don’t even know her name so I keep calling her nicknames, feeling even more insensitive because maybe it’s coming off wrong. I don’t know what else to do. This is so messed up.

She blinks at me, finally meeting my eyes again, fresh tears still falling from hers.

My throat aches. “Look, really, I’m sorry. Please, come eat with me. I promise I won’t hurt you—I won’t touch you. Will you sit next to me again?” I sound desperate.

After a few more breaths, she does, coming to perch on the edge of my bed within arms reach but just barely, like a bird about to fly away.

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Taglist: @deluxewhump

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reynesofcastamere · 4 years ago

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Surface Breach(2/3)[β]

(A/N: Good grief but it has been a while since my last contribution to the ship. Sad to say I’ve been caught up with several irl things, including moving and settling in to the new place. Rest assured, I do have several drafts in the works for other projects and I am hoping to set up a regular writing/submission schedule. Now that that’s out of the way...Warnings for: possessive behaviour, emotional manipulation, (negotiated) bondage, blindfolding, edging, cockwarming, blood, masochism and mentions of polyamory, coitus interruptus, and non-consensual play. Unbeta’d and NSFW.)

Ahsoka knows the second she sets foot on her ship that time is up. She could still flee, drag this game out a bit longer and drive up the level of his frustration...But what would be the point, really? It’s been months since they parted ways, and while she hasn’t avoided his calls, she’s also made a point of not meeting with him in person. A reprimand for his behaviour, and a reminder of the challenge she’d issued. She recalls the first, trembling breath of relief she’d taken after the medical scans were complete. He has no further hold over her than this. Nothing burrowed and secreted away beneath her skin to...Do any number of things, really. Most of which she’d rather not consider right now.

Maul is of course perfectly at ease in the pilot’s seat, already turned to face her. “Lady Tano. I trust that your last assignment was successful.” He’s being neutral, bordering on pleasant, even. But the tension is there, kept in check by the slimmest thread of restraint. “And I trust that you’re not here for small talk.” Ahsoka makes certain to keep a few feet of distance between them, arms crossed. The corner of his mouth twitches, the speed of it leaving her unsure of whether he meant to smirk or grimace. “You have business on Nar Shadaa, and I have certain...interests that need tending there.” “So you decided to catch a ride. Without asking.” “You would have refused even if I had offered compensation. This is the most expedient method of travel.” Maul’s eyes narrow, attempting to pierce through and determine her intent. “Unless you plan to run in order to spite me.” “I’m not running anywhere.” Ahsoka retorts. “But I’m also not going to spend three whole days in hyperspace...entertaining you.” “Naturally. However, when we are not occupied with tasks and other essentials, you will make good on your promise, my Lady. Now please, sit.” She takes up residence in the navigator’s seat, given that he’s obviously not willing to move. “I told you to stop calling me that.”

“What does it matter, if you are not truly mine? Just a monster’s delusion. Unless...”

“Don’t. Start. You can use either of my names. Just not...that.” “As you wish.”

Nothing else is said for some time. Even after the ship takes off, the course is set in, and space has blurred into blue lines, there are other responsibilities that need to be taken care of. Ahsoka has to stop herself from dragging out the time. She’s not looking forward to this. The discussion she needs to have with him, not what might happen afterward.

“Look, if this is going to continue, there need to be some ground rules.”

“Explain.”

“First off: Unless I’m badly injured or in immediate danger, you’re not allowed to just...carry me back to your lair, no matter what your reasons are.” He’s more than capable of coming up with a multitude of excuses to do so. Which is why she’s cutting him off at the knees, figuratively speaking. “Second: This arrangement doesn’t interfere with work. Ever. Third: I decide when anything starts. You’re not allowed to grab or molest me in any way before that.”

Maul appears mildly amused, but the small tics that betray his impatience are growing. “This seems rather excessive for a casual arrangement.”

Ahsoka pins him in place with a look and a hint of a Force hold. “I’m not finished. Fourth: Any marks left behind have to be concealable.” She’d walk away from this ‘business trip’ with more visible punctures in her than being dropped into a giant cacti forest on Yavin 13 otherwise. “Fifth: No matter how far along we are, if I say ‘kyber’, we stop what we’re doing. No questions, no persuasion, nothing. If you don’t have a safeword, then pick one and tell me.”

“Is ‘stop’ somehow inadequate?” The question is soft as she releases her unseen grasp on him. Even seated, something in him reminds her of a hunter in the moment before a kill; tense with anticipation and bloodthirst. “No.” She wets her lower lip. There’s no going back from this confession, hard as it had been for her to admit it to herself. Much less him. “When I use ‘stop’, it usually means ‘go harder’.”

Maul’s grip is practically throttling the armrest at this point. He is trying, from the shudder in his breath, to follow the rules she’s set out so far. That’s a good sign. His eyes, though? There’s a flicker in them that she used to see from the people she’d helped or rescued during the war. The ones who fully believed that the Jedi were capable of miracles and could do no wrong. A kind of...awe. Achingly soft, and in his case, almost buried beneath avarice and raw desire. She fights the urge to squirm, and it’s not entirely from discomfort. “Is that all?”

“Yes.”

“Good, ‘scimitar’ should suffice. I have some conditions of my own.” Every word is a caress, heavy and deliberate. “You are, of course, free to object.” He produces the blindfold she’d given him from within his shirt. She remembers exactly how he’d taken her apart; bound by choice and utterly enthralled. “So long as you wear this, you will obey.” Maul purrs, heat suffusing her body as he winds and pulls the fabric taut between his fingers. “I’m not going to call you ‘Master’.” Ahsoka is certain he’d like almost nothing more. She gets far too much pleasure out of denying him, however. So he’ll have to earn it first.

“Yet.” Maul responds, overconfident ass that he is. “I have no desire for you to dull your tongue. But you will submit to my commands.” He leans in, nearly closing the gap between them, but not quite. “Such as if I tell you to get down on your knees and show me how you pleasure yourself.” He’s only saying it to provide an example, yet her thighs rub together all the same at the thought. Sightless, her cunt exposed and dripping while he watches, giving obscene praise and instructions on how to bring herself to orgasm.

“Should you want to take control, all you need do is remove it. Or ask that it be taken off.” Of course he’s not done yet. Has to finish having his say first, and bring her arousal to a fever-pitch with the only options currently allowed. “Any amount of marks you receive from other paramours, I will match in number, and I will take first priority.” There is a jealous glint, a madness in his eyes that should terrify her. “Regardless of your position and how close your mutual release is.” Ahsoka sucks in a sharp breath. “You really expect me to just...make someone leave while they’re-” “Yes.” Maul snarls, hushed and vicious in a way that brooks no refusal. Much as she might like to, if she does not compromise, give some inch of ground...He will lash out. Ultimately, he’s not asking for much. So far. “And should you draw a weapon on me again-” His left hand circles her jaw without actually making contact, though the intent is clear. “-be prepared to use it.” Her gaze falls to his throat, his markings almost concealing the burn scar she’d given him. But not quite. That he’d chosen to keep it at all is- “Do we have an agreement, Ahsoka Tano?”

A small eternity seems to pass between her indrawn breath and the resulting answer. “Yes.” Ahsoka looks at him again without fear. Straight into the eyes of the monster, the murderer, the tyrant she has and will be taking into her bed for the forseeable future. “Go ahead.” The first kiss is nothing short of a conquest, taken with broken vocalizations and sharp bites. She lets him pull her in, straddling his lap in the pilot’s seat while they break for air, and offering no resistance when he ties the blindfold securely in place. “Undress. Completely.” Softer now, his lips ghosting along her jawline. It takes a bit of effort, but before long she is bared to him, nipples pebbled from arousal, the air, and the cold presence of the Dark Side. The body beneath her, the bare hands that trace and mould her form are nearly white-hot by comparison. “Perfect...Turn around, and place your hands behind my neck.” Ahsoka obeys, shuddering in pleasure as he purrs. The cuffs he attaches to her wrists are made of some kind of leather, and she instinctively tests the give of the metal chain between them. Sturdy, but nothing she can’t break out of.

The position leaves her undeniably exposed and at his mercy. She expects none, yet he grants it anyway. With each stroke, squeeze, and tug of his fingers down her body, he steadily tunes her nerves to exquisite sensitivity. He never quite touches her core, preferring to caress and grip her inner thighs and the curve of her breasts even as she pants and shifts restlessly. She can feel him against her, hard and unyielding, the cloth barrier separating them gradually being saturated with her essence. And still he makes no effort to hurry things along. “I thought you wanted to -haaaaahhhh- punish me for making you wait this long.” “You made a game of testing my patience. It is only fitting that I return the favour. I will keep you here, on the precipice between agony and bliss...Until, in your desperation, you beg me to ‘stop’.” Maul pinches her throbbing bud and she whines an incoherent stream of vowels. “Although...Hm. Your impulsive side is endearing.”

“What are you rambling on ab-AnnnnnH!” He bites down on her shoulder while slightly twisting the bundle of nerves held captive between his digits. She’s bleeding and the pain between her legs is pure torture, but she still wants-

‘I will grant your release early. If you ask to be fucked.” “You can’t be serious.” “Three simple words are all that stand in your way.”

“Why not just order me to say it?”

“Why should I, when you so clearly want to? Despite your self-denial.” There’s no longer anything gentle about his touch, how his nails dig in and rake across her inner thighs while her shoulders and upper back gain a rapidly-growing collection of teeth-marks. His shaft is still there, still covered and rigid, rubbing against her hot and sodden core. Ahsoka is on the verge of sobbing. Or breaking her restraints to just seize what he’s dangling in front of her. But if all it takes is a couple of words...”Please, fuck me.” She whispers, rough from repressing her whimpers.

“Again.” His lips on her throat, feeling the command rumbling against her vocal cords.

She grits her teeth and snarls. “Fuck. Me. Please. You smug, overbearing bastard.” Maul’s fingers curve over and tug her recently-abused pearl, and she is lost, sent tumbling and screaming into the abyss.

Her body is still quivering in the aftermath when he presses in. A slow invasion, one that encounters no resistance until he is fully secured within her walls. At first, she thinks he just wants her to ride him. Yet before she can start... “I will give you a choice.” Maul’s voice is low enough to feel in her bones. “If you can keep relatively still for fifteen minutes, you will be taken against the control panel. And if you are very good, Ahsoka-” Her name on his lips is electric and scandalous, her body arching as if pulled by unseen strings. “-I will get down on my knees and devour you first.” She should never have given him permission to use it in the first place. His other...’endearments’ are easy to brush off. Somehow, hearing those three syllables in this moment is more intimate than having him inside her, feeling the incremental shifts between their bodies with each breath.

Ahsoka raises herself up, almost to the point of letting his shaft slip out, then drops back down. She can feel him hiss, how his hips jolt up on instinct once before he stops himself. “Mmmm. Think your other option is bad enough to stop me from putting this to better use?” She’s teasing now, circling and rolling her hips in a way that takes him deep, but not all the way in again. Having Maul relatively immobile is a new experience. Even when he’s not being rough, he’s hardly still. It probably won’t last, but so long as his patience holds out...Using him like a sex toy is doing a lot to rev her up right now. He seizes her head-tail and pulls, bending Ahsoka’s neck back at an uncomfortable angle, free hand grasping one of her thighs to force a stop to her movements. “Keep this up and I assure you, ja’ti mirtis{my death}, you will not enjoy sitting when I am done with you.” Maul rasps, his mouth so close to her left montral that she can feel his lips brushing against it with every word. Her core trembles, breath coming in short, sharp pants. “I wonder which would bring you more pleasure? Being bent over the edge of your cot to be mounted and used...Or disciplined until that option becomes a mercy?” Something like insanity seizes her. It’s the only explanation for what she says next. “Both.” Ahsoka breathes. “I want-Take these off, please.” The light is harsh for the few seconds it takes her eyes to adjust, wrists slightly chafed from the cuffs as she carefully turns to face him. “I need both.” Her hands gently circle his face. “Can you do that? Get me ready with your mouth, and take me nice and slow right here?” He seems transfixed, almost unable to believe the words falling from her lips. “Think of how wet I’ll be, when you’ve finished your ‘discipline’ and I’m just aching to be ruined.” Ahsoka can taste the hunger when he captures her mouth, how similar it is to her own. Her nails claw at his shoulderblades, seeking purchase, to bury herself in him, anything. “Yes, Ahsoka.” Maul whispers, between their lips meeting in repeated, feverish collisions. “You have only to ask.” (A/N: Some of you may have noticed a slight change in the numbers up top. So yes, there will be one more chapter to this particular story. 8D Cheers, everyone!)

#maulsoka #ns.fw #this might just be the kinkiest thing i've written so far #time will tell though lol

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ericsonclan · 4 years ago

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A Face Once Dead and Gone

Summary: Sophie and Brody walk through the town of Halverport when Sophie notices a face that she never thought she'd see again.

Word Count: 3900

Read on AO3:

Sophie lifted up her arms, stretching as she walked alongside Brody. The leather straps on her thumb braces shone in the sun as she made a happy sound. The auburn pirate glanced over at the taller pirate with a warm, gentle smile. It was nice to see Sophie so happy.

“That was so good.” Sophie tilted back her head before lazily placing her hands behind it.

“Yeah. I love Omar’s cooking but you can only eat the same dishes so many times before you get sick of them.” Brody replied as she looked around the town of Halverport. It was a beautiful seaside town where the people seemed to mimic the vibes given off by the water surrounding it: calming and charming. “So, where to next?”

“Well, it would be great if I could get some more art supplies. Tenn and I are running low and I should have enough to cover it. Maybe there will even be some new colors I haven't seen before or even some new types of art supplies,” Sophie’s pale blue eyes danced with excitement at the thought. The two pirates looked around at the town square in which they were passing through, noticing that it seemed pretty busy. The people of Halverport shuffled around, pushing past each other and apologizing as they made their way to their varying destinations. Sophie and Brody navigated their way through the crowd, their hands interlocked as the pair of friends weaved past the next batch of people.

“Alright.” The auburn turned her head to look back at Sophie. “I think I just spotted a stand or something over by the western section of the flower district.” Brody’s hand moved up and she linked arms with Sophie, pushing further through the busy streets of Halverport. She wanted to get out of there as soon as she could; Brody hated crowds.

Sophie tried to keep up, her footwork sloopy as she stumbled this way and that, apologizing as she bumped into people. When suddenly out of the corner of her eye she saw a familiar silhouette. A tall, red-headed girl dressed in a simple puffy white shirt was heading in the opposite direction. A burn mark covered her left cheek that shone lightly in the bright sunlight. Her face turned left and right; a vaguely confused expression displayed on it before the girl walked forward. Sophie felt her heart stop in that moment. Then it reappeared in her chest as it tightened and turned as the girl slowly disappeared from her view. Without thinking she let go of Brody’s arm, pushing through the crowd roughly as she sprinted forward, trying to catch up with the redhead that had vanished down an alleyway.

“Sophie!” Brody called out, brushing back a strand of hair that had covered her face as she forced her way through the crowd. “Wait up!”

But Sophie couldn’t hear her, all the sounds around her were dull and numb. The only constant sound was the blood pumping in her ears. Her head was spinning as she followed the redhead around the corner. Sophie slipped and fell, her braces scuffing against the ground. The girl the red-headed pirate had been following stopped in front of a small building, her hand already on the doorknob.

“Wait!” Sophie’s voice cracked.

The girl froze, her hand glued to the doorknob as her body lightly flinced.

“Minnie…” Sophie’s voice shook as she stumbled forward. Her throat felt like it was on fire but she didn’t care. “I don’t believe it… Is it really you?”

The girl slowly turned around, her body language tense and unsure until she looked at Sophie. Her blue eyes softened and her body relaxed when she saw Sophie.

“Sophie?” Minnie’s face scrunched up in confusion and disbelief. Her mind seemed unable to comprehend that the person that was standing in front of her, the one she had longed to see, was standing in front of her. “You’re alive!?!” Minnie’s soft voice wavered as she ran forward, gently hugging Sophie. Minnie held onto her twin tightly, putting all of her emotions and love into the hug as though she was afraid that her twin would disappear without a trace.

Sophie gave a short sob and wrapped her arms around her sister as tears started to cover her face. They stung her pale blue eyes that shone with shock while her mind tried to process that this moment, one she never dreamed she would get to experience in this world, was truly happening. The world around them became non-existent as the twins lived in that moment, both of them sobbing as they took in this impossible miracle the world had gifted them.

Their attention was quickly drawn elsewhere, however, when the oncoming footsteps grew louder as Brody appeared around the corner. The auburn pirate clutched her knees and emitted short, uneven gasps, catching her breath. “Sophie. Thank goddess I found you! You can’t just-“ Her smile disappeared in an instant when she saw Minerva standing right beside Sophie. Brody’s hand instinctively went to her blade and began to unsheathe it.

“Wait! Brody, it’s okay! She’s not going to hurt us!” Sophie yelled. Quickly sliding in between the pair, she stood in front of her sister, her arms outstretched.

Minnie stood defensively as she stared at Brody. Her pale blue eyes searched the pirate’s face with uncertainty. The tall redhead looked closer to a frightened animal than a bloodthirsty pirate. Brody glared back at Minnie before looking towards Sophie. The auburn’s eyes were filled with concern and confusion as they locked with Sophie’s. A silent conversation took place between the two friends as Minnie stood there, unsure what would transpire. With an angry sigh, Brody took a step back and placed her blade back in its sheath. The hilt clicked into place, the only sound that was shared between the three of them.

Sophie gave Brody an appreciative smile before turning back to Minnie. “How are you alive?” Sophie’s eyes looked into Minnie’s, hoping to find answers there. “How is this even possible? I heard the tales from my crew. The ship… it didn’t make it and you were below decks.”

“I’m not sure.” Minnie shook her head. Her red locks swayed forward, covering one of her eyes. “The ship started to sink when Lily and I were fighting. Both of us were so focused on the fight. All I felt was anger at her, at myself, that it wasn’t until the floor was submerged that we stopped. Soon the sea overtook both of us and my vision went dark. The next thing I know I’m on a boat and the people who saved me dropped me off here. I’ve been living in this home - well, maybe “facility” is a better word for it - ever since I came here.” Minnie’s voice was quiet and somber.

“The facility?” Sophie’s voice took on a tone of confusion. Her eyes glanced back at the rather plain-looking building behind her.

“It’s to help me with my condition. I got pretty fucked up from the ship and now my body can barely handle a few hours of movement at a time before fatigue takes over.”

Sophie looked down with sorrow etched on her face. She didn't know what to say. Both of them had sustained harsh injuries from that batlle.

“Tenn!” Minnie’s eyes grew large and she grasped Sophie’s shoulders firmly, causing Brody to nearly reach for her blade once more. “Is he okay?” The older twin’s voice grew shaky.

Sophie shared a quick look with Brody to let her know she was fine before she answered her twin’s question.

“Yes. He’s fine, he’s back on the ship with the others. It was hard after that day. We didn’t think we could make it through after...” Sophie’s voice caught in her throat, “After we thought we had lost you. After the battle, it looked like some of our crew wouldn’t make it, but we’ve been getting better. Taking it one day at a time,” Sophie gave her sister a gentle, reassuring smile that made Minnie relax as she returned it in kind.

“The…” Minnie stopped her sentence, debating whether or not to continue with that sentence when she discarded it. Taking a deep breath the redhead began to ask another question, her voice taking on a quieter, worried tone. “Are Violet, Mitch and Willy okay?”

“What the hell gives you the right to ask?” Brody spat, her eyes holding nothing but hatred for the person in front of her.

“Brody, please.” Sophie begged, looking back at her friend who seemed annoyed with the stance Sophie was taking. “They’re okay. Mitch, Violet, Willy. They all made it out safe and sound.”

Minnie’s eyes were filled with relief before their attention got drawn to Sophie’s thumbs. The warm brown leather braces shone in the sun. Minnie’s eyes traveled up and noticed the scars that plagued Sophie’s arms. Long, heartless scars that were caused because of her naivety, because of her desperation.

“I’m so sorry, Soph. I…” Minnie’s words got caught in her throat. Tears began to slip down her face, her eyes becoming red-rimmed as sobs overtook her. “You shouldn’t have those scars. You shouldn’t have to go through so much pain and hardship.” Minnie’s eyes swum with guilt as more tears made her pale eyes glassy. “You shouldn't have to live the life of a pirate.” Her voice was bitter on the final word. All her years of suffering, of confusion, of heartache bled into that one word. Her pain and hatred were so powerful that it made the hair on both Brody and Sophie’s arms stand up. Sophie shook her head in disagreement at her twin’s words.

“Neither of us deserved the hell we’ve been through. You didn’t deserve that shit that Lilly did to you. All that suffering you had to endure,” Sophie’s body shook with emotion. “But we made it through all that shit. You, me, Tenn, we’re fighters. We survived and now we can finally be happy.” Minnie’s shoulders relaxed in that moment, a part of her relieved Sophie didn’t view her as an irredeemable monster, even if she felt that to be true. A moment passed between the sisters before Minnie’s eyes shot up, a look of realization and hope overtaking her features. With an excited smile she spoke up. “You should stay here with me!” Minnie’s hands reached forward and held Sophie’s ever so gently. “You and Tenn both! Together as a family! We can finally start over again. Get a chance at the happiness we always dreamed of.” Minnie’s eyes shone with such a tender hope to them. A hope in a dream that she had been dreaming of for many years, what had driven her forward through all those sleepless nights as a Delta Pirate.

Sophie stared at her sister, her mind trying to register what Minnie had just presented. A chance at a home, a true home, one they had dreamed of since they were kids. Her and Minnie and Tenn all together. A family. Sophie’s mind froze for a moment. Family… The Ericson Pirates were just as much a family to her now too. With this decision what would become of her relationship with them?

“I…” she hesitated, her throat tightening as she struggled to say the words. “I should talk to Tenn.”

“Right.” Minnie’s eyes looked sad for a split second. “ Of course. We can talk again tomorrow when I have some more energy.”

Sophie hadn’t really realized until now but Minnie looked exhausted. Small bags were under her eyes as her energy ran low. She was clearly drained from the overexertion of this interaction and the hours that she had used up before now.

“Okay. I’ll meet you here. Same time.” Sophie wrapped her arms around Minnie again, the pair holding on for as long as they could before Sophie let go and turned to walk away with Brody. Her mind spun at what had just happened. She felt so happy to see Minnie again. She couldn’t believe it; Minnie was alive. Tears misted her sight once more. It felt so surreal that she was here. But a sense of nervousness also swirled through her body at the offer Minnie had given. Brody glanced over but remained silent, a small frown on her face as she led the way back to Ol’ Kickass.

As soon as Sophie made it to the deck she scanned the ship for Tenn. It only took a moment to find her gentle, soft-spoken brother who sat around with the other street rat kids as he sketched them. It still surprised Sophie every now and then just how old Tenn had gotten and how much he had grown both in the years she missed and the ones they had shared together on this ship. As Sophie made her way forward she noticed that Violet was teasing Mitch who seemed rather peeved at whatever she was saying as Willy clutched his sides in laughter.

“Hey, Tenn.” Sophie’s voice was slightly shaky as she tried to clear her throat.

“Hey, Sophie.” Tenn’s face fell in concern. “What’s wrong?” He could tell that she had been crying. His worried tone made the other street rats stop their friendly banter and look up at Sophie. All their eyes grew large with worry, their attention drawn away from their conversation and onto the oldest of the street rats.

Sophie shifted her weight, glancing down at the deck as her fingers fidgeted with the straps on her braces. “This is going to sound insane. I know it will, but I’m not making this up. I… holy shit,” Sophie ran a trembling hand through her hair before looking back at her brother.

“I saw Minnie. She’s alive.”

Tenn’s eyes widened in shock as he dropped his sketchbook. HIs pencil collided with the deck, clinking softly before it rolled in a circle and stopped.

“What the fuck?!?!” Mitch exclaimed, hopping up from his spot with a look of utter disbelief. “That’s impossible!” He studied Sophie’s face, trying to see if it wasn’t true. He hoped it wasn’t true but it was clear as soon as he saw her eyes that it was.

“How?” Violet’s pale eyes looked up at her best friend. “The ship sunk. We all saw it.” Her voice was soft as she struggled to read anything on Sophie’s face with her limited sight.

“It wasn’t super clear how she survived. She got picked up by another boat and dropped off here in Halverport. She’s staying at this place that’s helping her with her injuries.”

“Is she okay?” Tenn focused on his sister as he nervously played with his fingers.

“Yes. It's nothing life-threatening.” Sophie paused, her gaze returning to the deck as she wondered how the next piece of information would be handled. “Tenn, she asked me if you and I wanted to live there with her.” Sophie’s eyes locked with her brother’s and in an instant she knew his answer.

“Wait? Does that mean you’re thinking of leaving?!?!” Willy scurried to his feet, his eyes filled with worry. It was obvious he didn’t want them to go.

The group was silent as the tension rose. Each member of the street rat kids could feel their different friends’ emotions radiating off them, swirling and clashing against the others. All of them waited to see who would have the stones to speak up first.

“We should go.” Tenn stated simply. “She’s our family.” Those words sent a dagger through all the other street rats’ hearts as they processed what was said.

“I thought we were your family too!” Willy snapped. “But I guess that means nothing to you! You’d rather go with Minerva,” Willy grimaced at Tenn, his hurt clear in his eyes. “I don’t know if you forgot, but she hurt all of us!” His voice was filled with venom as he glared at Tenn.

“But-“ Tenn’s voice was quickly cut off.

“But nothing!” Mitch yelled, his arm shooting out as he curled his other into a fist. “Violet’s eyes were fucked up! I was kidnapped and fucking drained like some pig! Sophie’s thumbs and arms were torn to shreds and Minerva cut the shit out of your face!” Mitch pointed at Tenn who hid that side of his face for a moment. Mitch’s eyes grew large as he internally winced at his decision to display Tenn’s injury. Silence overtook the group once more, the tension now more hurtful and pained.

Sophie didn’t respond. Her pale blue eyes were focused entirely on the ship’s deck. She felt her emotions clash with each other. Her thoughts battled it out in her mind, both sides pulling out all the stops as she stood in the middle, torn and confused.

“That was Lily’s fault, not hers.” Tenn argued as he fidgeted with his fingers once more. The rest of the crew slowly gathered around, concerned by all the arguing.

“She joined them!” Willy screamed, a deep frown on his face. “She tried to kill Prisha and even Sophie!” The pirate’s voice cracked on both names; clearly those close calls haunted him more than he had let on.

Sophie winced. No matter what arguments were made, it was still true that Minnie had blood on her hands. Their blood. That would never change and it could never be washed clean.

Violet stood there, her arms crossed as she listened. A frown tugged on the corners of her lips as she decided whether or not to speak up.

“I think you should go.” Violet’s voice was quiet but confident.

The others stared at her in shock.

“How the hell can you say that?” Prisha pushed her way forward, staring at her love in disbelief. “After what she did to you?” Prisha’s voice tightened on the word. “What she did to our friends?” She hurt us. All of us.”

“I know, “Violet replied simply but that didn’t stop Prisha from continuing.

“The injuries you sustained weren’t just some fucking paper cut that a simple bandage would fix! They were permanent! All of the injuries caused by her were permanent. It's unforgivable !”

“I’m not saying she did nothing wrong!” Violet snapped back, her anger immediately dissipating as she glanced away from her wife. “I just,” Violet paused for a second to find her voice once more. “I just think that any of us could’ve ended up like her. If Mitch and Willy had been captured that day instead of Sophie and Minnie, if I was the only one who survived, I don’t know if…” Violet’s voice wavered slightly. “Shit. I can’t forgive her but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve a second chance.”

“She’s too dangerous!” Prisha argued, her eyes hard with anger. “Every time that we’ve run into Minerva one of us gets hurt or nearly killed! So how could we leave Tenn and Sophie alone with her?” Prisha gestured towards the siblings. “They’re our friends!”

“She’s changed.” Tenn spoke with a gentle determination.

“Has she though?” Prisha snapped back. “There’s no guarantee. It’s too big of a risk!”

“But,” Ruby’s voice drew everyone’s attention, “It’s a miracle that she’s alive. If there’s a chance that Soph and Tenn can get back what they lost, then they should go for it. It could be a sign.” Ruby put a hand on Sophie’s shoulder, causing her to look up. Ruby’s warm smile gave her a moment of relief before the fight continued.

“How can you say that, Ruby! After all the injuries you’ve had to deal with!” Brody hissed. “All those nights that Violet screamed in pain as her eyes burned. All the bloody sheets that you had to change when amputating Clem’s leg. We all just barely survived the last fight. Mitch was cut up like an animal! Sophie was nearly dead! Hell, it was a fucking miracle we all made it out alive. Every time we see Minerva death is just around the corner. It's not right to leave Sophie and Tenn with her!” Brody turned her gaze to Tenn and Sophie. “Just because someone is family doesn’t mean you’re obligated to be with them. My relationship with my mother and father was awful. It wasn’t until I joined the Ericson Pirates that I found my real family. Family isn’t just blood!” Tears pricked at her eyes as her body shook. “It's what you make of it. It’s who you choose to trust and to lean on.”

“Louis!” Mitch yelled, his frowning face looking up at the captain of the ship who stood by the wheel. “You’re the captain so why don’t you fucking say something!”

“Oh. Umm, well, my word as captain isn’t the law.” Louis replied, his voice uneven. “It's up to Tenn and Sophie. It isn’t my place to tell them to forgive Minerva or not. Or if they should leave or not. Whatever is true to them I’ll accept.”

“I can’t believe this!” Willy snapped. “This… this is bullshit!” He kicked the side of the ship as he glared at Louis.

“Louis is right.” Clementine's voice was calm as she stood by her husband, her hand resting on his shoulder. “He could have worded it better, but his point is still true all the same. It’s clear that Minerva can never be with the Ericson pirates; we can’t have someone who we couldn’t trust to have our backs. But Sophie and Tenn still could have a future with her if they wished,” She turned to look at the pair. “This choice will fundamentally change your life. You have to ask yourselves if what you could gain from being with your sister is worth parting ways with the crew.”

Sophie felt her stomach twist at Clementine’s words. Was it true? Could being with Minnie, living a life here, possibly be more worthwhile and better for her or should she hold onto her life on the sea with the crew she saw as family? Both were valid in their own way; it felt like an impossible question to answer. Sophie glanced over towards Marlon, wondering if he held any stance on this but his eyes were unreadable, glued to the floorboards. It became clear in an instant, he held no answers to the question.

“It is.” Tenn stated as he stood by Sophie, his hand wrapping round hers. “Right?” He looked up at her, clearly hoping that she would agree with him.

Sophie looked over at him before casting her gaze down again. She didn’t have an answer. Tenn’s face fell. His eyes held the hurt he felt from her lack of support.

“Whatever! See if I fucking care!” Mitch strode forward and stood in front of Sophie. “All I know is that we’ve been by your side and always had your back!” Mitch glared at his childhood friend before turning sharply on his heel. His feet stomped against the wooden beams as he disappeared below decks followed by Willy.

The rest of the crew quickly scattered as well. Some argued as they continued to man the ship, all of them feeling strongly about this decision that at the end of the day was not up to them to make. Sophie felt her heart grow heavier as her chest tightened. A question loomed in her mind that would haunt her until it was answered. Was there even a right choice?

#twdg #twdg brody #twdg sophie #twdg louis #twdg clementine #twdg prisha #twdg violet #twdg ruby #twdg tenn #twdg willy #twdg mitch #twdg minnie #twdg marlon #brody sophie brotp #fanfic #a pirate's life for me au

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