#Really need to dedicate some time to learning how to draw horses
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
My beautiful horse that I hate
#I always thought she was so cool but now that I’m looking at her again her design is kinda ugly imo#Really need to dedicate some time to learning how to draw horses#red draws#skylanders#skylanders fanart#skylanders trap team#knight mare
112 notes
·
View notes
Text
[002-A10] We Know They Live
Summary — ✈︎ Kaede, Akuta, Muneuji, Kiroku, and Sakujiro go out to eat Shodoshima's local specialty, Hishio-don. While they eat, the five talk about unique talents and deepened their bonds with each other.
Characters— ✈︎ Sakujiro, Akuta, Kiroku, Muneuji, Ushio, Nanaki
Location: Seafood Izakaya in Shodoshima
Akuta: Hi・Shi・O!! Hi・Shi・O!!
Kaede: Yes yes, I ordered one for everyone.
Shodoshima’s specialty dish, the “Hishio-don.”[1]
Sakujiro: The dish is made with soy sauce and mash made specifically in the Soy Sauce Village. I look forward to trying it.
Akuta: Hi・Shi・O!! Hi・Shi・O!!
Kaede: (With the most delicious looking meal in front of him, Akuta’s excitement seems to be set to max. He keeps shaking around from side to side…)
Muneuji: Isotake, that hurts.
Kiroku: ……Gh…… Intense……
Kaede: (He’s in between Muneuji and Kiroku, so he keeps bumping into their shoulders…)
Akuta: Hi・Shi・O!! Hi・Shi… Ohh!?
Hey hey.
Kiroku, the lockscreen on your phone, what picture is that?
Kiroku: Ah…?
Akuta: It looked super vivid, so I got interested. Can I see it?
Kiroku: ……Okay.
Akuta: Eh, this is seriously crazy. It’s soo cool, like a new wave [2]! It’s like, super mysterious and vivid! It’s kinda ominous looking, but in a really cool way! It’s really amazing!!
Everyone, you gotta look too!
Kaede: You’re right…! It’s really colorful and creative.
Muneuji: Who’s the artist?
Kiroku: …… I, …… I am.
Kaede: Amazing! Kiroku-kun, you’re a really talented artist.
Kiroku: … Talented…… Not… really.
Akuta: I could never draw something as amazing as this y’know!
What would you call something like this? A unique talent? A unique existence?
I’m SUUUPER jealous y’know!
If I studied art, I wonder if I could’ve made something as cool as this〜
Kiroku: ……Do you really… mean that…… [3]
Akuta: Eh? What is it, what is it? Sausage? [4]
Kiroku: … No, that’s… not what I……
Muneuji: Kinugawa, Isotake isn’t the type of person to give someone a backhanded compliment.
Kiroku: ……
Kaede: (Ah, Kiroku-kun’s expression softened a little…
Even though he’s been pretty stiff this whole time.)
Kiroku: ……
Kaede: (And now, he’s showing his phone screen to Akuta-kun so casually…!)
Akuta: Eh, you’re saying it’s okay for me to eat your appetizer? Thanks, Kiroku! Thanks for the meal~!
Kiroku: …………
Kaede: (Somehow, there’s been some sort of misunderstanding…)
(But, I think these two will end up being good friends!)
Ah right, Muneuji-kun.
I forgot to say so earlier, but thank you for your help.
Muneuji: What are you talking about?
Kaede: When everyone was being really loud and you flipped over Ushio-kun…
Everyone ended up quieting down thanks to you.
Muneuji: Ah, you don’t need to thank me for that.
I just did what I needed to do.
Kaede: Kiroku-kun is very cool, but you were really cool that time too, Muneuji-kun!
Are you learning Aikido?
Muneuji: No, my house is into martial arts… Well, to be more specific, they’re into archery.
Other types we learn are old school martial arts and horse riding… I was taught Aikido by my family. Most of my relatives are well versed in various types of martial arts. I am learning Aikido, but it’s not quite appropriate to say it’s something I’m focusing on learning.
Kaede: So that’s how it is…! You’re always wearing a helmet, so you give off this kind of scientific image, but you come from an old-fashioned family huh…
Muneuji: That is something I wear for the future. An astronaut… I want to become an astronaut.
Sakujiro: Around the school, Kaguya-kun is famous for wearing that helmet all the time.
There are rumors that you do not take it off, even when you are showering or sleeping.
Muneuji: When you’re in outer space, you would have to wear it all the time.
So currently, I’m trying to wear it as much as I possibly can.
…That’s the type of training I have to do.
Kaede: ( I did think that the helmet looked a bit worn down, but that’s the result of Muneuji-kun’s dedication and hard work huh…)
Now that I think about it, I saw something on the news the other day about a rich person building a house made of ice on Mars.
I guess the space industry grows a lot every day. Maybe space tourism will develop alongside it as well…
Akuta: I wonder when ordinary people can start going to space〜!
When that happens, I want to make a movie starring aliens〜!
Kiroku: …… Aliens…… I want to sketch one.
Kaede: That’s nice! I’m sure you can do it!
When you become an astronaut Muneuji-kun, maybe you’ll be one of the core people who plays a major role in the space industry!
Muneuji: ……
Kaede: ( Huh? His expression looks somewhat disinterested…)
Eh… Um, well why do you want to be an astronaut, Muneuji-kun?
Muneuji: …Because I promised my father.
Akuta: Eh, just because of that?
Muneuji: A reason like that is enough.
Kaede: ( … Muneuji-kun, you seem kind of stiff right now.
I guess he doesn’t want to discuss that part of it…)
Muneuji: ……
Kaede: ( H-His face is becoming more and more tense. What should I do…)
Sakujiro: ……
By the way everyone,
Have you heard of the “Fermi Paradox”?
Kaede: Ah, that’s the paradox that even though the possibility of extraterrestrial life is really high, and there’s a lot of research about it, there’s no conclusive evidence of life outside of us! I know of it!
It’s true that in this day and age, we may have encountered aliens who came to earth without us even knowing it!
Akuta: …………
Muneuji: ……
Kiroku: ……
Kaede: Everyone started looking at each other… What happened…?
Akuta: Noothinngg. Right?
Muneuji: Correct.
Kiroku: ……Mhm.
Kaede: ( … I don’t know, it seems like they’re up to no good, but… )
Staff Member: Sorry to make you wait! 5 Hishio-don, all large servings!
Akuta, Muneuji, and Kiroku: Uwaah~~~!The sashimi’s plump too~~~!
Kaede: Hishio-don is the best…!
Location: Otomari Chuuzaemon Inn in Shodoshima
Kaede: We’re back!
Kiroku: …… It was really delicious…… Hishio-don.
Akuta: It really was!! It was so good, it felt like my cheeks fell off like 30 times!
It was suuuper good! I wonder where those idiots who didn’t come to eat are~.
Oh! Found idiot number one~!
Ushio: Uwah! Don’t just cling to me all of a sudden!
Akuta: Ushio ran away~!
Kiroku, that way, that way! Don’t let him get away!
Kiroku: … Eh? …… Ah.
Ushio: Hey you two! Don’t just work together and gang up on me like that!
Kaede: (Hehe. They have a lot of energy don’t they.)
(Uwah! There’s a big mess from the soumen snacks from earlier. I should clean this up.)
(I think the garbage was… If I remember correctly, it was supposed to be put outside.)
Kaede: And there…… Hm?
Muneuji: No problem. …… Ah, it’s right here.
Nanaki: Okay〜. ……
Kaede: (Nanaki-kun and Muneuji-kun…?)
Previous — ✈︎ Masterlist — ✈︎ Next
Notes — ✈︎
Hishio-don, or a hishio rice bowl, is a dish from Shodoshima like they say! Here’s a pic of it! You gotta scroll a bit for it but yippee
New wave a movement or trend in art that breaks traditional concepts, values, techniques, etc.
The word Kiroku uses here means like. Flattery. But usually it’s backhanded. So when you praise someone sarcastically. He just says “insincere flattery”if you literally translate it, but I didn’t know how to localize it that well so I said “Do you really mean that” instead. Just know the tone isn’t like awe or anything, he’s skeptical of what Akuta is saying
The word Kiroku says is お世辞, or “oseiji”, but since he kinda mumbles it, Akuta didn’t hear him and thought he said sausage. ソーセージ、 or sooseeji.
#kfkr1ze#18trip#18trip translation#bitter sweet sixteen#chapter 002#akuta isotake#kinugawa kiroku#muneuji kaguya#nanaki nanamegi#ushio kurama#sakujiro karigane
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
Handshakes of a Lifetime - Chapter 6
BTS soulmate AU. OT7 x reader / Taehyung x reader focused in this chapter, slight Jungkook x reader and Namjoon x reader
Usually by the time I finish a chapter, I will have a nice chunk of the next chapter done, when I finished chapter 5 I had TWO SENTENCES FOR THIS CHAPTER cries, ugh this was a journey lol but I had fun along the way :). Also, I wanted to shoutout @missseoulite I remember having a really bad day when I saw your sweet comment about being eager for the new chap and just knowing someone cared enough to wish me safety and care about my well being, well it meant a lot to me, so this chapter is dedicated to you my dear!!!! <3
Word count: 10.3k
Warnings: death, mention of a suicide, if you’re like me and don’t like to think about being old this chapter might trigger an existential crisis lol, cheating, men being sexist, angst but also fluffiness, sex with Taehyung, breeding kink, a character calls you and Tae children but you are two very grown adults I just wanted to make that super duper clear.
---
“I want to try, I think it would be worth it, you’ll be worth it.”
‘Why did he have to say that,’ you wince, looking over at the idol. He is beautiful, way out of your league, above you in every way, and he’s looking back at you like his whole world hangs in the balance. How could you reject him now. You groan.
You stand up. You place your palm in front of his face, your fingers splayed out, you can see his wide excited eyes in the gaps between them. You look at him expectantly. Taehyung nods, places his palm to yours, interlocking your fingers together.
Your heart thumps wildly as darkness fills the room. You open your eyes once you hear the familiar voice of your husband call out to you, “No need to fret anymore, my beloved. I’m here now.” Taehyung’s hand covers your old and frail fingers. You lie in your bed, body tired and weathered from all the years you’ve spent on this earth.
Your eyes roam over the room, taking in all the faces of your beautiful children and grandchildren. The pain in your tired joints fades as you focus on the man you’ve only grown to love more in all the years you’ve been together. It’s because of him you’ve lived a fulfilled life full of love. With him by your side you’re ready now.
You look up from your crouched position, the flowers you’ve picked lie fresh and pretty in your basket. You look to the dirt path where a man is running towards you. ‘What is a man doing here of all places?’ you think.
He comes to a stop once he sees you, hands on his knees as he gasps for breath. He looks young and beautiful, though his robes are askew and torn and his face glistens as sweat drips from his chin. You almost decide to ignore him and go back to your duties until you notice the red lines that peak from the uncovered parts of his torso. The cuts look painful. You hesitate, “Do you need some assistance?”
“Don’t mind me, fair maiden,” his breathing is still heavy as he speaks. He looks around, taking in his surroundings. ‘What is he looking for?’ you wonder. You can tell he is trying to hide his panic, but it comes through in his tense movements and jittery eyes.
“Are you sure you don’t need help?”
Four men on horse approach you. You notice they are soldiers by the gold plates that cover their body. You hold the flower basket a little tighter to your chest. The first soldier speaks, “Have you seen a man come through this way?”
“You’re the only men I’ve seen for days.”
You feel their lewd stares on you, your stomach churns from the unwanted attention. One soldier dismounts his horse and stalks closer to you. “A pretty little thing like you wouldn’t dare lie to us?” he questions.
“I swear on goddess Athena.” You stand still and look to the ground as he invades your space. The soldier brings a calloused hand to your chin to make you look at him, his companions snickering at your discomfort.
“For days? You must be lonely, poor sweet thing you are.” The other soldiers dismount and circle you. You try to keep your face neutral from the disgust you feel as their eyes rake over your body.
“It is as I said,” your eyes shift to the marble walls of the temple behind you. “I would not lie in Athena’s name, I am protected by her watch.” You emphasize your last words, keeping your limbs close and suppressing your instincts to fight and draw this encounter out any longer than need be.
The men look over to the temple and begin to move closer to the entrance. You follow after them, dropping your basket and letting the flowers scatter into the dirt in your haste.
“No men shall enter, unless you want to face the wrath of the goddess herself,” you yell from behind them. The men laugh. You find the courage to pull at the leader’s armour to cease his advancing. “You will be cursed if you go in there, sir!”
Taehyung’s eyes go wide as he hides underneath the blanket you’ve covered him in. He removes his hand from the temple’s wall, and brings his knees up and off the floor, trying to touch as little as possible of his surroundings.
The men scoff at your words, the leader shoves you away but does not advance any closer. You’ve taken up enough of their time, and they need to find this criminal before The Queen bestows her own kind of punishment upon them.
“Be careful, girl. There is a dangerous man fleeing prosecution, pray to your Goddess we find him before you do.” You find their warning quite ironic as you watch the leader kick your basket. You assume in an attempt to be intimidating, but in your opinion it makes him look more like a petulant child, your brow ticks in annoyance.
Only when they are completely out of your sight do you let go of the breath you were holding. You run into the temple, crashing into the stranger as he runs out.
“I’m sorry!” He exclaims, his hands grabbing onto you to keep you from falling. Electricity zips through you as you both break away stunned. You rub at your arms to take away your goosebumps. The stranger lowers the hand that clutched at his chest, his wide eyes looking at you in question.
“Is it true? A curse is the last thing I need right now!” he laments. You giggle. The soldiers called this man dangerous?
“The rules say no man is to enter, yes.” His horrified expression makes you laugh even more. “But...they are more like guidelines,” you assure him. “Enough temple priestesses have brought their fair share of men back and nothing too sinister has happened yet, by the gods.”
It does little to lessen his worry. He looks at you skeptically. “I thought Athena’s priestesses were supposed to stay virginal in honor of the goddess’s protection.”
“Oh,” you offer him a smile, “that is her protection. It is perception that protects us.”
You eye the man, his features are sharp, striking; almost intimidating; but his aura is quite soft. “...protects us from men. In this world there are very few true heroes, I’m afraid most only live inside songs.”
He looks at you in understanding. “My apologies, you had to deal with those soldiers alone. I couldn’t do anything to defend you.” He winces at the thought, “For you to have shielded me instead, I thank you.” He offers you a deep bow and you feel butterflies dance in your chest.
“Can I ask as to why you’re running?”
He looks to the direction he came, unable to meet your eyes. “Ahh, well...I am in poor favor with The Queen.”
Your eyes widen, you’ve heard rumors of her beauty even in the remoteness of your area, and even more of her kingdom’s hedonism. The man in front of you is truly beautiful. He could be one of her lovers, you think, he most definitely looks the part. His robes though now disheveled are of expensive fabric and show off his lean body, and the way he holds himself you can’t imagine him to be a common worker. “So, you and The Queen, I see...”
“Oh! It’s not what you think...I’m a mere poet. I sing to The Queen and her Court, but she suddenly wanted more of me than I am willing to offer. I-I rejected her.”
Your eyes widen again. “That was most unwise.”
He smiles, his eyes cast down. “I can bear the weight of my faults. I plan to leave to another province.”
“You’ll rather leave your home? But it is The Queen!”
“As you can see, there is punishment in denying The Queen of her desires.”
You’re astonished. “I can’t imagine being with her to be so horrible you’d choose to run instead, give up all you’ve acquired?”
“I rather give myself to someone for love.”
You feel your heartbeat quicken at his words, ‘so idealistic.’ You’ve never encountered an individual with such delicate presence, a trait you find most unconventional. A smile pulls at one of the corners of your mouth, “Aphrodite must favor you.”
Taehyung laughs, his eyes softening, “Thank you again, someone must favor me to put you in my path.” His warm dark eyes hold your gaze. “I mustn’t stay too long…”
“Yes, of course! Well then…” You falter in your farewell. He struggles with the decision to leave. Taehyung knows he must, The Queen’s soldiers could come riding through again at any moment, and he doesn’t want to think of the punishment they would bestow upon you if they learned of your lies, so why can’t he seem to let go of your company?
He notices the trampled flowers littered on the ground around you, the colorful petals lay beautiful and ruined, a fate he worries will become yours if he doesn’t make haste. He picks up an unbroken blossom. “Thank you again.” He places the flower in your palms, a warmth spreads over you through your fingertips as you hold your breath in reverence. His thumbs stroke your fingers gently, and then he nods at you one last time and moves to run again. You feel a pressure building in your throat, unready to bid him farewell, and you don’t understand why this man whom you’ve just met is affecting you so. His kindness and his gentleness makes your body yearn to learn more. What can you do, he’s a stranger and not yours to keep, you must let him go.
His flower stays cradled in your hands, you feel your chest tighten more and more with each step he takes that brings another stretch of distance between your bodies. Your limbs itch to move. What should you do? It is what you want to do that makes you so afraid. You silently ask Athena for guidance. It is only when he turns past the treeline and out of sight that you can’t take it any longer.
You run into the temple. You race to your small quarters, and gather anything you deem valuable, not very much. Pushing down the thoughts that tell you you’re acting crazed and without reason, you fasten your belongings to your body. You race out of the temple's entrance and crash once again into a body that jolts your nerve endings with an undeniable energy. You stare into his eyes once more, the man you saved. He looks down at you, eyes wide with surprise but full of mirth.
A horse carries you and Taehyung farther North. You travel in comfortable silence, as your hands rest snugly around his waist. After riding with him for so long, you are no longer shy to hold him, accustomed to being pressed up against his back. You listen to the steady rhythm of horse hooves against the earth. It is peaceful and you find yourself smiling against Taehyung’s back.
The bright lush green landscape turns dark and threatening as the two of you ride past an abandoned village. The wooden wreckage smolders still. You gasp at the sight, so many homes lost. Taehyung taps the horse’s body with his foot to quicken its step.
“Stop!” You yell at Taehyung once you notice a shift amongst the rubble. You jump off before he properly stops his stead, running towards the wreckage to confirm what you thought you had witnessed.
Taehyung runs after you, warning you to be careful. Once you reposition a large plank of wood, you gasp at what you see. There’s a bleeding old woman pinned underneath, still alive. You call for Taehyung’s help, the both of you pulling her as delicately as you can manage from beneath the rubble.
“I can’t believe you’re still alive, it’s a miracle by The Gods.” Taehyung holds the old woman’s hand as you run to the horse to fetch a canteen of water.
“Oh, a miracle yes,” the old woman coughs out, “fate has blessed me after much burden.”
You work to clean her skin of dried blood and ash, offering her water to drink. “What can we do to help?”
“My walking stick, it is most important.” Her eyes stay closed shut in pain, as she gestures to the place you’ve pulled her from. Taehyung rummages around until he pulls an item from the wreckage, an impressive staff decorated with gold markings and a large green gem adorned at its apex.
The old woman offers Taehyung her gratitude, feeling much more at ease she opens her eyes to look at the pair of you. You stare into the old woman’s clouded grey eyes in surprise.
“Thank you child, but hurry, the rain will wash the flames away, but will halt your journey for the day.” Taehyung looks upwards at the old woman’s words, white clouds are traveling across the bright clear blue sky.
You can’t leave the blind woman alone after everything she’s been through. “If it’s going to rain, please let us take you to the next village for shelter.” She nods and walks staff in hand towards Taehyung’s horse.
“Only a bit further, we will make it before it rains,” the old blind woman promises. Sounds of thunder echo faintly in the background. The sun is no longer out, hidden behind dark grey storm clouds. You shiver and rub the exposed skin of your arms for comfort next to Taehyung as the two of you walk next to his horse. He grasps your hand and pulls you closer to him. He radiates warmth. You never know how to react to his kind gestures. You look up at him and meet his gaze, sending him a shy smile. He rubs his thumb on your knuckles, smiling brightly back. If his intentions were to make you warm, he succeeded, your heart feels full.
“This is a farming community. They are a kind people who serve Demeter, the two of you are safe here,” At the old woman’s declarations you and Taehyung look at each other, exchanging unspoken words.
“This is where our paths must diverge. If you continue to follow this road, you’ll find sanctuary for the night, I promise.” Taehyung helps the old blind woman down from his horse. “Thank you again, children. I don’t have anything to offer you in return for your help, but I can give you some words of wisdom.” She smiles kindly at you both.
The old blind woman still holds Taehyung’s hand in hers. She turns his palm upward, her fingers trace the lines of his hand. You watch her curiously. “Ahh, your soul holds so much talent, you’ll find it’s both a blessing and a curse.” You giggle, Taehyung shoots you a look, his lips curving into a half smile. “Ahh, you know of it already. In the future, you’ll have a great choice to make, I can’t choose for you, but as someone who's lived many years and knows how dreadful and gray the world can become, my advice is to choose the path of love.”
“Always,” Taehyung’s eyes cast a look over to you and you feel shy once more under his gaze.
She brings her hand to Taehyung’s face to pat his cheek. “Dear child, too beautiful for your own good. It won’t be easy for you, for either of you, this path before you. Hermes wings have found your heels, you won’t find much rest in this life.” She looks sympathetic as her head turns towards you.
“Much like the universe has brought you to me, I see destiny is not a stranger.” She smiles at you knowingly. You hold your breath as she reaches for your hand, studying your palm alongside Taehyung’s. “Your souls...they have been linked together. I see the red string of fate wrapped tightly around you both.”
You find yourself wanting to believe her. Her words seem heartfelt and true, and you can’t deny her strong aura despite her fragile appearance. You catch Taehyung’s eyes again. Has he been looking at you this entire time? She continues, “This bond you have is quite unbreakable, not even death can cut what tethers you together.” She studies your hand more carefully, “Ahh, peculiar...”
“Do you see something worrisome?” you ask, concerned.
“It is nothing to worry dear, you have much love that surrounds you. Let yourself love. There will be those who will try to keep you apart, but take it from an old old woman, love is a stronger force than even the gods can imagine. It glitters brighter than gold and gives you riches greater than Kings. In the end, you’ll find a way.”
You think of her words all night. You look over to your companion, he sleeps peacefully next to you. Do you love him? Is this love? Is he your destiny? You pray to Athena for answers, but only more questions arise in your mind.
You think to the day you first met him, the memory bringing a smile to your face. You left with him, in the end. It was you who found the courage to ask him to take you with him, on the premise of wanting to see the world while moving to another temple. You expected him to let you down gently, you remember his hesitation still, but instead he had not refused you, and you have been traveling with him ever since. Being with Taehyung filled the holes of loneliness that punctured your existence before meeting. Your world had been small, consisting only within the temple’s walls. Now your world feels infinite, it’s thrilling and terrifying, and at the center of it all is Taehyung, gentle and kind and sincere in his affection.
---
You are jostled from your sleep. Taehyung pulls you gently from your bed, his lips placing tender kisses across your forehead as he pulls you to your feet. “I’m sorry, we have to leave again.”
This is not the first time you've had to run, or the second or third. So you pack the things you cannot part with and say goodbye to the rest.
Taehyung, the beautiful poet with a voice that can capture any audience's attention, has always been able to afford you both a roof and a meal. Taehyung’s performances become the talk of whatever acropolis you find yourself in, and his fame grows until his looks and voice catch the attention of someone too important to ignore. Fame is a wonderful thing until it becomes too much, too demanding, and all too quickly can Taehyung’s admirers turn into attackers, vilifying his every action. When that happens he decides to run, and you follow. You worry if it goes on like this you’ll have no more places left to run to.
You liked this place the most, it pangs your heart to lose your home again, but you know your true home is in Taehyung’s arms. You pack as many mementos of this place as you can carry, and hold the rest of your memories close in your heart.
---
“Like this,” you pull your bow back and look to the trees ahead where three pheasants sit perched. You choose the biggest bird and aim your arrow. You make sure Taehyung is studying your form and then you let the arrow go. The bird squawks sharply before falling to the ground, and the others scatter to the sky.
“See!” you laugh at Taehyung’s astonished face.
“How are you so much better at this than me?” The poet whines as you hand him back his bow and arrow. You laugh again. You and Taehyung have been learning to survive by yourselves through trial and error, more error than not. You’ve never had to hunt for food before, but you quickly found yourself skilled, and you think it’s quite fun. At least when you’re not starving, stomach already full from fresh berries Taehyung had picked for you to share. He had picked you flowers as well. They sit in your hair in an intricate pattern after you complained to him you couldn’t eat flowers. You slowly remove the arrow bag from around your neck, so as not to ruin the halo he so carefully crafted.
“I caught it, so you cook it,” you tease.
He brings your hand to his lips for a quick kiss. “That, my fair maiden, I can do!”
---
It is late and Taehyung has not arrived home. His performance should have been done hours ago. You try not to let your thoughts wander into the dark depths of your worst fears as you settle into a restless unease. Your home is quiet and still, too quiet. You keep your ears focused as you wander around the house.
It goes from quiet to chaos too quickly, you hear shouting in the distance. A hand grabs your mouth before you can scream, you start to kick but strong arms hold you tightly. Taehyung shushes you as he pulls you to the back entrance of your home.
You’re running into the woods with the poet, he pulls you to the ground and holds you beneath him. From the bushes you watch men with swords circle your house. You feel violated as you watch them enter your home. Crashes inside make you flinch in Taehyung's arms. “We’ll go back to fetch our things once they leave,” he shushes you.
The soft warm glow of your house becomes bright, light filling up the night sky as a fire breaks out and the men continue to destroy your home. Taehyung covers your mouth to stifle your cries and holds you close to him, whispering countless apologies. You can only whimper in his arms, your shoulders shake in grief as you watch everything you own go up in flames.
When you first came to this place, you and Taehyung stood out too much for the villagers' liking. You were strangers, you didn’t look like them, and they targeted you constantly for the pettiest of things. But this area was remote so you endured their hateful ways. It didn’t help matters when Taehyung, a much better singer than the locals before him, was offered an audience with the region’s King. Taehyung never made an appearance, letting other singers he befriended attend in his place, hoping to gain some favor with the locals, but it only angered the King. Feeling insulted, he killed the poets. And now, with enemies at both ends, and anger consuming the villagers, Ares wrath scorched your home to the ground.
You’re quiet next to Taehyung. Your feet ache from walking. No horse, no food in days. It’s nightfall and cold, you wear his cloak and shiver still. You walk beside the poet, but he feels oceans away. His usual bright eyes are dull and full of sorrow. You didn’t realize how accustomed you were to his touch until he had stopped. Your body aches to be in his arms, to hold his hand while you walk. You feel loneliness twist around you instead.
It is Taehyung who breaks the silence. He speaks softly, “There is a famous temple of Athena in this city, hopefully we can convince them to let you stay.”
The idea revolts you, pulling at the pit of your stomach. The thought of going back to your old ways, as if it would be a reprieve or something you missed, makes you nauseated.
“No.”
“I thought it would be enough...I-I was naive. I’m truly cursed. I can sing all about love, paint beautiful stories of love’s triumph, but when I cannot give you anything else but my devotion, it’s not enough. I can’t stand to watch you wither away in front of me. You deserve more.”
“The oracle said-”
“What kind of life is this for you?” He stops walking, his voice breaks in his anguish. “I-I’m sorry. I should have never taken you away from safety into this reckless existence. This should have been my burden alone.” Tears fall down his face as he shudders. You reach for him, cup his face in your hands. How can you make him see he’s all you want? He lets you wipe away his tears. You pull his head down to meet yours.
“What kind of life is this? The best life I’ve ever could have wished for. A life full of love. I’d trade everything I have for you.” You brush your lips against his, it stops his tears. His eyes fill with adoration, a blazing intensity that makes your heartbeat quicken.
“Stop this worrying, let’s go.” You grab his hand and pull him along. The silence hangs heavy in the air, the stillness of the night frightens you.
“Sing me a song please.”
“From now on I’ll only sing for you.” Taehyung says his words quietly, but his resolve thunders to the heavens, shaking the course of your lives.
The light of day shines through your open window, it illuminates the thin white fabric pulled over your head and wakes you. The white cloth flitters in the breeze of your bedroom and you catch a peak of the handsome man lying next to you. His dark warm eyes are already open as he watches you stretch your sleepiness away. He lifts his head, pulling the sheet higher, so he can get a better look at you, “Good morning, my beloved.”
Taehyung’s dark hair and tan skin against the glowing white backdrop of your bed sheets makes him look ethereal. You watch him in awe, “Good morning, dear husband.”
Your body feels heavy and rested. Your bare skin is warm against his and the sun heated sheet, the soft fabric pulls over your bodies, everything is so soft and warm.
Taehyung buries his head in your chest, smiling against your skin. “I love you.”
Your fingers play with the curls of his hair. “And I love you.”
Underneath the covers, you create your own little world, away from the responsibilities of your lives, the expectations of the day.
Taehyung runs his lips across your naked chest, kissing, licking, biting all over your body. You giggle at his playful teasing touches. “You’re perfection, so soft and pretty.” He captures your lips in a kiss, moving his mouth against yours slowly as his body rests between your legs. His hands find your waist and pull at your skin as he explores your mouth with his tongue, swallowing your moans.
Your legs wrap around his torso, you can feel him growing against your slick core. Taehyung's fingers find yours and he intertwines them together, pulling your arms above your head. He nibbles on the sensitive skin below your jaw.
“You smell so good,” he moans, “you taste so good.” His low baritone voice sends shivers down your body. You whimper, breathless from his caresses. He thrusts in slowly, rolling his body into you, slow and steady until you’re both feverish from mounting pleasure. “What do you want, my love?”
“Just you, please, I want all of you.”
He rolls you over so your body is on top of him. “You have me forever. Now show me how much you want me.” Your playful lover bites his lower lip, pulling on your hips to make you move against him. Your body moves up and down his length, Taehyung’s moans and devastating lustful looks spur you on to please him.
You roll your hips faster, so close to release. Taehyung notices your frenzied state and grabs your hips to hold you still, thrusting up into you instead. His hard length fills you up so deliciously. His grip on you is searing yet soft, you focus on his body below you, his tight muscles and golden skin. “I-I’m close.”
“Touch yourself for me.”
The room fills with sinful noises as your bodies converge again and again and you cry out in euphoria. Taehyung stills inside you as you reach your high, mesmerized by the way your body twist in pleasure in his arms.
Taehyung lays your trembling body down against the soft sheets of your bed, grinding his hips into you as you continue to pulse around him. “Eyes open, look at me my love.”
You struggle with his command, but hold his gaze as best you can, his physique shines with sweat and his hungry eyes roam over your spent body, the erotic way he looks at you ignites the desire in between your legs once again.
He’s so close to release. Taehyung quickens his pace, making you tighten around him, senses overloaded. You moan, encouraging him to keep going.
“You’ll let me fill you up? Have my baby?” His long fingers find your sensitive nub, applying pressure and making you cry out.
“Y-yes!” You can only feel blinding pleasure as Taehyung thrusts into you deeper.
“How beautiful you’ll be, glowing and pregnant with my baby growing inside of you.” He groans. Your stomach tightens as his cock swells, pressure filling you before you feel yourself snapping again. Taehyung’s own release following, your tightness too much for him to handle.
You hold him close to you as you both work to steady your breathing, “We have to start baking soon,” you softly remind him, “before the market opens.”
Taehyung cuddles closer to you, “It’s okay, they’ll wait for my bread, it is the best in the city.” He grins, kneading at your breasts with his large hands. You laugh, relaxing into his embrace.
“Okay okay, we’ll stay a bit longer.”
Your children gather around you in prayer. You take in a ragged breath. Your bedridden aging body feels heavy. Soft light begins to cloud the edges of your vision as you listen to the wistful voices of your sons and daughters shower you with love. Taehyung's fingers brush against your wrinkled digits.
“My beautiful wife, how I missed you.”
You call out his name. Your eldest daughter soothes you, brushing her hand over your forehead. You thought you would be afraid once teetering on the edge of your own mortality, but with him here, holding you again, fear is unable to reach you. You’re already so full of love.
Taehyung comes into your focus, still beautiful in his old age, still the gentle man you love, he places a feather light kiss on your temple. Relief washes through you, the currents pull the burdens on your soul away, and you feel light, floating between worlds.
“I’ve waited for you,” Taehyung’s deep voice fills your mind, “Are you ready to travel with me again?” You know your answer, innate as the love you felt when you first met him.
You take one final breath, letting go and following Taehyung again.
---
Your eyes flutter open. You’re lying face down on the hotel bed. As your eyes begin to focus, you are met with the singer’s face next to yours. Taehyung is lying on his back next to you, grinning from ear to ear, your fingers are still interlocked by your heads.
“What happened?” you whisper.
“I don’t know, I think we passed out, I woke up right before you opened your eyes.”
He looks at you, still beaming, a boxy smile plastered on his face. You try not to smile back. He shouldn’t be this happy!
“That wasn’t bad. You made it sound bad.” he pouts.
You hum, looking at your still intertwined fingers. You study the smooth skin of your hands, the wrinkles and veins you’d seen now only a fleeting memory. You feel tired.
Taehyung feels like he’s just woken up from a long dream. Memories of last night feel far away, more distant than memories presumably lived centuries ago. He focuses on the only constant, you.
“Do you regret it?”
You let out a deep exhale, you move your hand to trace his cheek, his nose, his eyebrow; he watches you quietly. You flick him on the forehead.
Taehyung yelps, looking quite betrayed by your actions. You smile, and his expression switches easily back to happiness. “It’s okay, you don’t have to admit I’m right,” he teases.
You let out a huff, “Doesn’t it bother you? It should bother you! Why is this happening...it’s exhausting...”
Taehyung wraps his arms around you and pulls you close to his body. “I don’t care why,” he mumbles into your hair. Your breath catches in your throat as he cuddles closer to you.
“Do you want me to stop?”
Your heart pounds. You try to stay calm. “No,” you whisper.
His arms tighten around your frame. His warmth envelopes you, it feels like there’s fire inside you, burning down all your apprehensions.
“So this is how it feels. I thought I understood Jungkook. But this is....” you feel his body vibrate as he laughs to himself. “It’s not something you can put into words, right? I understand what he means, about not wanting to let you go.”
Closing your eyes you can picture yourself being in a different place, a different land, another time, you let yourself relax into Taehyung’s embrace. You can feel his hands caress your body, his long fingers travel to the back of your neck and down your spine and the curve of your back.
“I know I’ve never hugged you, but it feels like I’ve done this a hundred times before. Like you belong with me.” His voice is low in your ears. You try to ignore how you feel, how true his words are, but you can't.
“Right? At least admit that to me, y/n.” He whispers. His fingers dig into your skin as he pulls you even closer.
“Hm?”
“You belong with me.”
“I-” A knock on your door makes you break away from him. Taehyung flops on his back, sighing. You open the door to the youngest and oldest members smiling at you.
“Good morning!” You internally wince at your unusually high voice. Jungkook looks over your shoulder, noticing movement inside your room. He sees Taehyung sitting cross legged on your bed, leaning back on his palms with a grin on his face. Jungkook’s doe eyes go wide as his head turns slowly over to the eldest, who then mirrors his expression. Their surprised faces would be comical to you if you didn’t feel responsible for their reactions.
Everyone’s silence is making your stomach twist into knots. You clear your throat. “I touched his hand, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Unable to meet their eyes, you feel the need to add, “That’s all that happened. So...okay, let’s go!”
---
Everyone is sitting in the penthouse, around the coffee table filled with plates piled high with different breakfast foods. Some are sitting on the floor, some on the couch with plates in their laps. Jin ushers you next to an open spot next to J-Hope and sits on your other side. Taehyung and Jungkook have been quietly talking behind you and find seats in the empty gaps.
“The food here is really good,” Hoseok says in between bites as Jin serves you a plate. He smiles brightly at you. Hoseok wishes he wasn't so apprehensive with you. He aches to get to know you, learn all your quirks, learn about your childhood and what makes you happy so he can shower you with more of it; and what makes you sad so he can make sure you never experience it again. But he's too scared, Hoseok feels too much guilt.
His hair is messy and sticking up in weird angles, you resist the urge to fix it. ‘Just keep your hands to yourself, y/n. He’s not your friend,’ you chant in your head. You look around at the men, cozy and warm in their group. You realize how much of an outsider you are.
“Here,” Jin places a triangle of sweet toast on your already overflowing plate. You eat quietly while the members talk to themselves and check their phones. It feels nice, like a big family dinner on the holidays. You watch Hoseok take a selfie with his phone, a minute later you feel your phone vibrate with a notification.
“You posted to twitter just now?” Hoseok notices the panic in your voice as you magnify the picture to make sure there’s no item or reflection that might incriminate you.
“Err yes, why?” he scoots closer to you to see what you’re doing.
“I just-didn’t think it was that easy.” You scroll quickly through your timeline now that you’ve made sure you’re safe, Jin and Hoseok both moving in your space to stare at your phone much to your dismay and you think it’s time to put it away after the third photo of Namjoon’s toned arms pop up on your feed.
After stuffing yourselves full, the time has come to address the elephant in the room. The members take turns reliving the moments of last night, and in Taehyung’s case this morning, explaining everything so the group could all remain on the same page.
Namjoon should have been upset, once Taehyung shocked the rest of the group by speaking, but being in the same predicament himself, he was not surprised to learn Taehyung sought you out, he had barely slept toying with the idea himself.
You don’t talk much, just confirm certain details. You noticed how the men glossed over the most tragic parts of your visions, and you don’t care to interject. You learned new things as well...
Jimin finding his way back to your farm, only to find it destroyed and you gone, and unable to live with himself after that. You can’t meet each other's eyes when you tell him your own version of events.
Jin wanted to propose, he had picked out a ring, a bright blue gem like the ocean.
Taehyung had convinced you he stopped singing as a bard because he grew to hate it, but he confessed, to your suspicion, that wasn’t the case at all. He promised you he never once regretted his decision.
Hoseok took the job as a DJ because when you were younger you were obsessed with your local station, swooning over the DJ's voice and always calling in to win contests for you and Hoseok. He always had an affinity for music, but mostly he did it for you, to impress you.
Yoongi almost didn’t admit he had never really left your side, how he never stopped protecting you. That had shocked you the most. Your heart screams to comfort him, to comfort all of them.
Jungkook excitedly tells you everything he had planned for your escape, he used his life’s savings to find you and him a new home far away. He tells you how if you both had succeeded you would have been so happy with him.
It felt weird. All these lives inside you itching to burst through, you didn’t feel like yourself anymore. You meet the idol’s eyes sitting next to you, and when he looks at you so tenderly, you wonder who he really sees.
“Yoongi’s life was the coolest.” The quiet rapper keeps his head down, only nodding in acknowledgement at Jimin’s comment.
“Well I liked mine,” Taehyung declares. “Which one was your favorite, y/n?”
“I’m not answering that,” you mutter, growing hot under the sudden attention.
“Hmm I don’t see a connection.” Namjoon hums. “Apart from y/n.”
“Should there be one?”
“I’m assuming nothing strange like this has ever happened to you before?” Namjoon turns to you. You shake your head. “Have you ever had dreams, um, of us?”
“No! I mean-what? No.” You pull the neck of Jungkook’s hoodie over your mouth to hide your embarrassment, with no intention on admitting anything. What does dreaming have to do with this?
Namjoon stays silent in thought. Should he tell the group now?
“I should probably go now.” It’s no longer morning after talking for so long. You have a life to go back to; chores, work. You hope being back in your home will make you feel more like the old you, before everything you thought you knew was turned upside down.
Jungkook stands up, “Why!”
“I have work in the morning? Not everyone is a famous world class musician,” You try to keep your tone light, but you’re bothered.
His lips press into a tight line. “I know, just…”
You have responsibilities, a job to go to tomorrow, you don’t want to entertain the wild fantasies arising in your mind at the way he looks at you so pleadingly to stay. “I can’t stay here all day.” You stand up as well, the members’ eyes dart back and forth between you and Jungkook, like they were watching fighters in a match.
“I don’t want you to leave.” Jungkook blurts out.
You close your eyes and rub at your temples. It’s becoming too hard, to keep pushing these feelings away, you cannot allow yourself to feel things for these men. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. What do you want from me?”
Jungkook speaks louder, “Do you not want to be with me?”
“I’m-that’s not-it’s not that simple. You don’t even know me! Do you want to be with me-”
“Yes.”
You let out an incredulous laugh and look around the room, but the men look starkly serious. You focus on the youngest again, raising your voice so everyone can hear you clearly. “I’m a nobody. You don’t know me. Name one thing you know about me other than my name...name my favorite color! If you can name my favorite color I’ll sta-”
Jungkook names your favorite color. His eyes piercing through you. Your breath catches in your throat.
‘How did he-wait...was it her favorite color too?’ Tears well up in your eyes. “...I’m not her.”
Jungkook winces at your words, “You’re right, I don’t know who you are right now. But you are...I know you are...the woman I fell in love with. What are you so afraid of?”
You look down at the ground to your feet. You can only shake your head at him and keep your mouth shut so you don’t start crying in front of them. You feel a hand wrap around yours and you already know who it is. You yank your hand away. If Yoongi is hurt, he doesn’t show it to you.
“I’m sorry, I know my life is difficult, that I’m a ‘famous musician,�� but isn’t it better than a poor stable worker? Can’t you see how meeting you again, this might be, maybe...fate?”
A pained laugh escapes your throat, letting go of the pressure you built up in your forced silence. “Oh my god. This is not happening.” Yes, maybe you can finally admit what happened was real, but what does that change? It’s not like you can run away with him in this life either, the entire world recognizes him now.
Your hands hold your head, your nails dig into your skin to concentrate on anything other than Jungkook’s continuing pleas. It’s just laughable to think this idol is begging you to stay with him. A sick thought invades your mind that maybe you’re doomed to repeat your transgressions. The memory of his bleeding body flashes in your mind, you’re not meant to be with them, how could you be? They’re the most famous singers in the world, yeah, you are afraid.
Jimin tries to calm down the youngest, “Kookie, you can’t force her to stay here…”
Jungkook is beside himself. He feels you slipping through his fingers again, away from him and even if it’s different now, it feels too sickeningly similar.
“Hyung please, you’ve been with non-idols, please talk to her...please!” Jungkook is crying, begging Jin.
A strangled sob escapes your throat at his cries. Hoseok rushes over to you, but you scramble away from his touch. You know you’ll break the second you let him comfort you.
Jin’s heart is breaking; for Jungkook, for you, for himself. He doesn’t know what to say, he’s just afraid as Jungkook of letting you go. Finally Namjoon decides to take control of the situation, the only one with a clear head. “Everyone leave. Now. Y/n deserves her space, and we still have four more days left in this city. Alright go!” The boys pull each other away, holding onto each other for strength, trusting their leader.
Yoongi pats a crying Jungkook on the back, “It’s okay, Joon will convince her.”
---
Your eyes hurt from crying, puffy and dark. You feel pathetic. Your head is pounding, you lean against the car window as you watch the blur of the city go past.
“Here.” Namjoon sits across from you, leaving the middle seat open. He hands you a cell phone.
You hold the sleek new model in your hand, “What is this?”
“It’s a hand phone,” the idol says teasingly.
You can’t help but let out a small laugh. “What is this for?”
“For you, to contact us.” Namjoon shrugs, “If you want to.” You sit in silence as his driver takes you home.
“You haven’t asked to touch my hand. Do you not want to?” You ask, sneaking a glance at the rapper.
“Of course I want to,” he speaks softly. “It’s all I’ve thought about since I saw you. But you’ve gone through a lot. I’ll let you decide if it’s something you want to do, and when you’re ready I’ll be here.”
You bite your lip. “For four more days.”
Namjoon smiles, his dimples on display. “Yes, I’m guessing you didn’t get tickets for the next city?”
“No, I wish. Those fanmeet tickets weren’t exactly cheap.”
Namjoon chuckles softly, “Ahh sorry.”
“Well, I did get a free breakfast with BTS, lucky me,” you hum. He nods, his eyes cast down. You hope he didn’t catch any bitterness in your tone, under any circumstance you would be dying of happiness.
You let the silence envelope you again, as you start to recognize the streets, you’re getting closer to home and to being left alone. You sigh, running your hands over your face, “Oh god, this is a mess.”
“I don’t think it is. I think there’s a reason for everything. And I think there’s a reason why this happened to you. To all of us.”
“What could that reason be?” You ask him genuinely, maybe the genius idol sees something you don’t.
“I don’t know. I do know it’s lonely being an idol. It’s hard to love, to find someone to love you and not break under the constant pressure.”
“I don’t know if I can be that person.”
“Well to me, it sounds like you’ve already been that person.” You want to scoff, but the sincere look in his eyes makes you stop. The GPS signals your arrival home.
The air is heavy as you gather up the strength to leave, “I will message you later, I promise. Just give me some time.”
You watch the expensive van leave your entrance. You couldn’t see through the dark tinted windows, but you had a feeling the idol was watching you, so you held yourself together and waved goodbye.
---
You know you should have just gone inside your home, but you had something to do first, it was driving you mad not knowing. So now you stand in front of a door that’s not your own still in clothes that are not your own. You send a text of your arrival and knock.
“Hi!” You pretend you aren’t exhausted, “I just have to try something-”
He looks at you dumbfounded as you grab his hand and start shaking it. Nothing. ‘Of course, just wonderful.’ You switch to two hands, shaking more forcefully.
“What’s going on...” his voice is shaky from the intense movements of your greeting. ‘Why is nothing happening, why is it only them, Ugh, why!’
“Earth to y/n...” why why why why.
He grabs your arms to stop your movements “Hey, are you okay? You never responded to my calls, I was worried.”
“I’m sorry,” you look into his concerned eyes. It feels like eons ago, whatever budding feelings you had for him. Why.
“Do you want to come in?”
“No, I better go.”
“You came all the way over here and you don’t want to tell me how last night went? You meet BTS and now you’re acting all crazy! You didn’t decide to leave me for one of them, did you?” your friend jokes.
“Ah ha aha…”
He raises his eyebrow at you. “I have work tomorrow...I just wanted to see you.” It’s the truth, you’re not lying. “I’m sorry for not responding last night. I’ll see you later?”
He gives you a kiss goodbye. ‘Oh no.’ It all feels so wrong.
---
The first day, you send Jungkook an apology. He sends you a ton of voice memos and selfies, just happy to talk to you again. You respond with light replies, trying not to dig your hole any deeper.
The second day, that night you break down. You send all the boys a simple “hi”. Yoongi, Jin, Taehyung, Jungkook, and Namjoon all respond. They send messages about their day. Jin sends you a picture of his food. Yoongi says he misses you. Against your better judgement you tell him you miss him too. Suspiciously, after your reply Jungkook and Taehyung message that they miss you seconds apart from one another. You tell them you miss them too, when Taehyung says he wants to see you, you’re too scared to respond.
The third day you stay busy with work. Hoseok sends you a picture of the sunset, his first message to you, nothing else. You wait until the night comes and send a picture of the moon from your window, and ‘Goodnight. Sweet dreams.’
The fourth day the pressure becomes too much. You hover over the call button all day but you can’t do it. By dinner time, you get a call from Jungkook. You try to swallow down the tears you’ve cried all day and sound cheerful when you answer.
“I just wanted to call before we get on the plane,” he says.
‘It’s too late. No.’ you think. “I’m sorry, tell Namjoon I’m so sorry. I should have seen him before you all left, I should have...”
“Don’t worry y/n. No one blames you.”
“That doesn’t mean what I did was okay. I wanted to see you all again.”
“You did?” The way his voice becomes more cheerful tugs at your heart. “You can make it up to us by talking more. Can I video chat with you later?”
“Okay.”
“Okay, got to go...Bye Beautiful.” He sounds like he’s in a much better mood, you can hear the teasing lilt to his words.
Weeks go by. You keep your promise. It’s easier communicating through the screen of your phone. You can imagine them to be online friends, people who are not famous. Some conversations stay light, some become deeper. They pry information from your life, learning more and more about you, and you feel yourself getting attached to their morning greetings and late night calls. Meanwhile, with family and friends you try to act like everything is normal, keeping this weird new world hidden, but you’re still constantly haunted by your memories with them. Your past lives play through your mind all day long and replace your dreams. Everything else felt so wrong now, so not you anymore, so gray. You feel like a bad friend, a bad daughter, a cheater.
---
Namjoon wakes up, groaning, his body still heavy from sleep. He quickly changes into a pair of slacks and a button down shirt. He chooses a forest green vest to wear, like the plants in his room. He runs pomade in his hair before heading downstairs to get ready for the morning.
He unlocks the door to his bookstore, before he can turn around the door opens with a loud ding. You walk in and make a beeline to the center table. Namjoon laughs, “Back so soon?”
“Of course, I’m so bored! My crops won’t be harvestable for another couple of months. Any other recommendations? I loved your last one.” You smile brightly at the bookstore owner, he’s always so kind to you and doesn’t make you feel like an outsider when you visit. If you could, you would spend all day in his store, talking about the latest novels and picking each other's brains. “Before I forget! For you...” You hand him two jars of homemade jam.
You're his favorite customer. And if Namjoon is being honest, he has a crush on you. He pulls a book from high above a shelf, a pristine copy. “This one, it should keep you busy.” Your eyes sparkle as you take in the large leather bound novel, gold letters adorning it’s spine. “How much?”
“Don’t worry, this one time I’ll take jam as payment.”
“No, that was a present,” you pout.
“Well, then this is a present for you.”
“Sir, if you don’t let me pay, I will throw a fit! I need you to stay in business.” It’s always like this with him, you’ll be damned if he doesn’t let you show him how much you appreciate him.
Namjoon laughs, “Alright alright. Then promise me you’ll come visit as soon as you finish.”
You nod, holding your new purchase close to your heart. He watches you leave, his eyes lingering on your body. You hold onto his book like a prized trophy. It’s another thing he loves about you, the way you treat things with so much care. His eyes still linger on you as you stand outside his shop. He sees a stranger run into you, you stumble back and almost fall, he rushes to the door to help you but stops in his tracks as the man's face comes into focus. “Jimin?”
Namjoon wakes up startled. He runs his hands through his hair, disturbed at what he saw. He’s covered in sweat, inside the cold room of his bedroom. Every night he’s had dreams of you, but this one was different. Should he go talk to someone about it? Who would believe him? He feels like every day he’s slowly getting closer to losing his mind. Today is going to be a long day full of press junkets. He rubs at his eyes trying to forget what he saw, what he felt.
---
Today you decide to call Namjoon. Usually, you’ll wait until one of the members decides to call you, but you had to talk to him before you lost your nerve. He picks up on the second ring. “Hey, I can’t talk for that long, is everything okay?” you can hear how busy it is in the background.
“No it’s my fault! I’m sorry, I’m an idiot, of course you would be busy. Call me when you’re free.”
“No! I have some time, we can talk.” You hear him shuffling to a quieter location.
Are you going to regret this? You take a deep breath. “I want to see you again. I-I don’t want to forget about what happened and go back to my life like everything is normal when it's not. You were right. I’m sorry...I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it.” You wait for Namjoon’s response, the silence fills you with anxiety. You would completely understand if he brushes you off now.
“I’ll figure something out. Okay y/n?”
“Okay.”
“I’ll see you soon.”
“See you.”
That night Namjoon sends you a series of text messages with instructions. Your eyes go wide over the new information. You look around your home, you know you should feel some sadness, but only excitement bubbles inside you. ‘I guess this is it.’ How are you going to explain this to your family and friends, to your boyfriend? A special internship in South Korea, you guess is how you’ll start.
---Three Months Later---
Namjoon splashes cold water on his face, he looks up into his bathroom mirror and blinks at his reflection. Namjoon’s eyes are not his.
Namjoon wakes up yelling. He falls back into bed, catching his breath. He checks the time. You should be on the plane right now. The idol rapper has always appreciated the wealth he’s accumulated over the years, but he feels especially grateful in this moment, now that he has found himself in a position of power large enough to secure you with a translation job within his own company.
---
A man holds a sign with your name on it. You walk towards him, your suitcase ticking on the airport concrete as it rolls on the ground behind you. You spent the last three months preparing for this, studying over language books every night and saying goodbye to family and friends. Your parents didn’t understand your sudden change of career, but you promised them the pay was better and it wouldn’t be forever. Your boyfriend was not so understanding, especially when you wouldn’t give him any details as to why you’re leaving the county. You and him weren’t even that serious to begin with but the breakup was messy.
You followed the driver’s instructions once he dropped you off in front of a very posh looking complex, entering key codes, up the elevator, down the hall, until you stood in front of the correct numbered door. You use the key he gave you to unlock the large door and walk into a massive apartment. Every member is already inside, waiting for you. You feel relief wash over you, you can’t help but smile at the group. They cheer at your arrival, you notice balloons and a makeshift welcome sign. The mood is definitely much more relaxed from the last time you all gathered together.
“Is this your place?” You ask as Jungkook takes your suitcase.
“No, this is your apartment.”
Your eyes go wide, “This is way too big!”
Taehyung jumps up and gives you a hug. The months you talked made you feel much more comfortable around them, but you still weren’t prepared for the rush of emotions that filled you once in his embrace again.
“It’s the smallest unit in this building,” Yoongi lets you know.
“And I’m guessing I can’t go to another building.”
“Our dorm is in this one,” The youngest member explains.
“How…” You take a deep breath, eyeing Jungkook up and down, “...convenient.” You take a seat with them on the ridiculously huge couch, next to Yoongi and Jin.
You sigh, stretching your sore jet lagged muscles. “Need to go to the bathroom?” Yoongi whispers at you teasingly.
You snort, his words taking you out of your worries. “Funny,” you mutter.
The eldest helps you fill out a stack of forms for your employment while the rest set plates of takeout on the living room table. You eat your first meal in Korea together. Sitting together, laughing together, you feel better than you have in months. It’s that feeling you get when you’ve finally completed a puzzle, placing the last piece in its place. You feel complete.
Taehyung’s words pull you from your thoughts.
“So y/n, when are you gonna hold Joon’s hand?”
“Oh, um…”
“You came all the way to Korea for him, right!” Taehyung teases.
“She doesn’t have to...” Namjoon murmurs.
“Oh c’mon! You can’t tell me you haven’t been going crazy waiting!”
“Yeah, I agree with Tae!” Jimin laughs.
“Do it!” Jungkook cheers.
“Do it! Do it! Do it!” The youngest members are chanting at the pair of you. You feel the heat rise in your face. You had planned on it, you wanted to find a way to get Namjoon alone, but now with all the attention on you, you feel apprehensive. You look over to Namjoon who looks equally as embarrassed. ‘I don’t want to do this,’ the thought screams in your head.
It has been months, Namjoon has waited for this moment. Now that he’s being put on the spot, he’s apprehensive. Ever since his bandmates touched you, they have acted differently, it might not be noticeable to anyone around them, but Namjoon noticed. Would he change too? Before he can yell at his bandmates, you stand up and walk over to his seat. “They aren’t going to stop,” You whisper, holding out your hand. He sighs and stands up.
“So?” Jin asks when he notices the lack of reaction from both of you as you grip each other's hands.
“Um, nothing is happening.” You stare at the rapper, but his attention is on the place where your hands meet, brows furrowed in disbelief.
“This doesn’t make sense..” He starts shaking your hand up and down as if that might help, it reminds you of the night he dropped you off, and you know exactly how he feels.
“Maybe it’s because I’m jet lagged or something? We could try again later...” you try to soothe the rapper but you can tell he is growing more and more upset with each passing moment, and your arm feels like it's going to dislodge from your shoulder the more he shakes.
The members have all gone silent.
“Maybe you don’t have a past life together?” Hoseok places his hand on Namjoon’s shoulder to stop his movements. No one expected this.
“No, that’s not-we have to-I know it!” Namjoon tries to stay calm but his voice is full of panic.
“Maybe it had something to do with that time, the planets aligning or something?” Jimin says. Is this your fault? Because you were too scared. What have you done? You’re rethinking everything now, you shouldn’t have come here.
“No.” Namjoon is right, he knows it, “that’s not it...” It doesn’t make sense, he knows there’s a connection between you and him. He lets the confession tumble out of his mouth before he can properly think. “Your name, I knew it! How would I know your name?”
You look at him confused, “What do you mean?”
Namjoon bites his tongue. He lets go of you. He blinks his eyes to get rid of tears threatening to spill. The mood is gone and everyone is silent. You feel horrible. Somehow this is your fault, you know it.
“Joon...” The eldest member calls out to him.
“I-I need some air.” Namjoon breaks away from the group.
“Wait!”
---
OOOOooo you had a whole ass boyfriend and you went and tongued Yoongi, scandalous. Looks like poor Joonie got the spiritual cockblock. Should I explain myself lol or do you like drawing your own conclusions?
Oh! Fun fact, the two sentences were this: Your eyes flutter open, you’re lying face down on the hotel bed. Taehyung is lying on his back next to you, grinning from ear to ear, your fingers are still interlocked by your heads. That’s what I had to go on T_T hah. Anyways let me know what you think <3
#bts fanfiction#bts fanfic#bts angst#bts fantasy au#bts soulmate au#bts historical au#bts smut#taehyung smut#taehyung x reader#ot7 x reader#reader x ot7#taehyung fanfiction#taehyung fanfic#taehyung angst#taehyung fluff
478 notes
·
View notes
Text
Light Me A New York Torch
Pairing: Oberyn Martell/GN! Reader
Word Count: 2,045
Warnings: Mentions of canon-typical violence, mentions of gore, ghosts
Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell
The prompt for this week’s Writer Wednesday was given, as always, by the lovely @autumnleaves1991-blog, and the masterlists are created by @clydesducktape.
You couldn’t remember when it started. When you began to see the people no one else could see. But it had been going on for years, and it was no longer as unsettling as it had once been. Instead, the slightly faded people wandering through the crowds of Sunspear were a comfort, coming with the knowledge that after death, there was still some kind of life.
The ghosts never bothered you, and they never bothered others. They mostly kept residence where they’d been buried, never venturing past the wrought iron gates of their respective cemeteries. But occasionally, especially whenever you made visits to the castle, you would see ghosts, their silver fog trails and oozing injuries marking them as some of the valiant dead. They liked to sit in on meetings, especially the important ones. You never cared, always nodding a brief hello if you were alone.
But it was the Princess of Sunspear who you spent most of your days with.
Elia Martell was buried just outside the castle, in a cemetery dedicated to members of the Martell bloodline. Her name was etched beautifully into a tombstone, her two children beside her. You never met the kids, but Elia loved to spend time in the sun with you, listening to stories you told. Now, you sat on a small bench, waiting for your ghostly friend, a bag of fabric beside you as you worked on a new robe for the Prince.
“Is that for Oberyn?”
You looked up, smiling at Elia. Her face was near ruined, the color faded with death, but her smile was still beautiful, even if it was streaked in blood.
“Of course,” you said, examining the neat backstitching you’d been working on all morning. “Who else wears fabrics this expensive?”
Elia laughed, sitting beside you and looking out over the sea. “How is he?“ she asked softly. “Is he doing well?”
You nodded. “He is.” You set down the sleeve you’d been holding in favor of focusing entirely on Elia. “Doran fell ill, so Oberyn is going to be heading to King’s Landing for him. He leaves in a week’s time.”
Elia hummed. “Travel will do him good,” she decided. “He’s grown too comfortable here in Sunspear.”
“Comfortable?” You asked with a laugh. “How so?”
“He’s like a cat,” Elia said, echoing your laugh. “A cat who’s found an awfully gullible human to leave it a bowl of cream every night.”
You laughed, your project abandoned in your lap. “Unfortunately,” you said once you’d regained yourself. “I think this cat is soon to be declawed. Did you hear what Doran was planning on doing?”
“Please, enlighten me.”
You and Elia both jumped at the new voice, and you turned to see the last person you wanted to see right now. Prince Oberyn.
“Ah, my Prince,” you said, bowing your head. “I didn’t see you there.”
Oberyn smiled, looking at the bag at your feet. “Who were you talking to?” He asked, entirely unaware of Elia sitting beside you, her bloodstained eyebrows turned up in worry.
“Old ghosts,” you answered honestly, knowing he wouldn’t believe you. Most people never did. “Elia likes the castle gossip.”
Oberyn chuckled, laying his hand atop his sister’s tombstone. “She always did,” he hummed, and Elia stood, standing beside her brother. She gently reached out to touch his face, her thumb gliding over his cheek.
“Tell him he’s too thin,” she said softly, her voice full of worry. “He looks too sad.”
You sighed. Elia, no matter how long she remained youthful, would always be Oberyn’s older sister. She would always harbor that deep flame of concern in her belly. “Elia’s worried about you,” you said, not bothering to stand.
“I suppose she would be,” Oberyn said, turning back to you. “Mind if I sit?”
You shifted your stuff over, allowing Oberyn to sit beside you. He peered into your bag, smiling a bit. “Fabric looks nice.”
“Well, it is for you,” you said, drawing the half finished sleeve out of the bag again and picking up where you’d left off. “I figured you’d like the color.”
“It’ll suit me well,” Oberyn agreed.
Elia looked from you to Oberyn, her face lighting up. “Oh gods!” She said eagerly. “He likes you!”
You ignored her, not wanting Oberyn to assume you were out of your mind. “Are you bringing Ellaria to King’s Landing?“ you asked, picking up your needle and continuing to rhythmically backstitch the hem of the sleeve. “I don’t think she’s been yet.”
“She hasn’t,” Oberyn said. “I will bring her when I leave. She’s grown bored here in Dorne. She’s never truly left the kingdom, and I promised her travel.”
You nodded. “Does she need a new robe?” You asked. “I have some beautiful sheer fabric that I can’t wait to use.”
Oberyn smiled. “You work too hard,” he said lightly. “Ellaria is not in need of a new robe.”
“I work just hard enough,” you countered. “I’ll make her a new one when you return.” You tucked your things into your bag, the waxed spool of thread falling gracelessly on top of the pile of fabric. “I’ll see you tomorrow Oberyn.”
Elia followed you all the way to your sewing room, which was shocking, considering she almost never left the cemetery. The entire time, her face practically glowed, and as soon as the door was shut, she squealed with happiness. “He’s in love with you!”
“Who, Oberyn?” You asked, dragging the wooden dress stand towards your desk and beginning to put fabric pieces onto it. “That’s like saying I’m in love with expensive fabrics. It’s a damn near daily occurrence. Oberyn being in love with me means nothing.”
“Mhm,” Elia hummed, sitting up on the windowsill and watching you pin the half-finished sleeves to the body of the robe. “Do you like him?”
You almost stabbed yourself in the finger. “No!“ you insisted, grabbing a pin cushion and sticking the head of a pin into your mouth. “He’s funny and kind and, sure, maybe a bit handsome, but no! I’m not in love with him!”
Elia’s cat-like grin told you that she didn’t believe you in the slightest. “You love my brother,” she said happily. “Oh! This is amazing!”
Rolling your eyes, you threw an empty spool at Elia, watching it soar through her chest and out the open window. “Hush up,” you said firmly. “I need to focus.”
Seven days of focus later, you were presenting Oberyn with his new robe, Elia by your side.
“How does it fit?” You asked, smoothing the fabric between Oberyn’s shoulders, watching it stretch as he shifted. “Too tight, too loose?”
“It’s perfect,” Oberyn promised, turning. “I’m sure I’ll be the envy of everyone in King’s Landing.”
You smiled. “Be careful on these buttons,” you urged. “If you lose any of them, I might just cry. They were very expensive.”
Oberyn chuckled. “If I have time,” he said. “I shall look in the King’s Landing marketplace. They might have some nice fabrics and things for you.”
Your belly heated. “You don’t have to,” you said, sending a minuscule glare in Elia’s direction as she grinned wildly.
“You deserve a thank you,” Oberyn insisted. “I know you must’ve worked many long nights to finish this robe.”
“It truly was not that bad.” You didn’t disagree with him. You knew just how long you spent awake to put that robe together.
Oberyn’s smile never faded as he turned to his horse. “I’ll be back,” he promised. “Tell Elia I’ll visit her when I return.”
Elia hovered her hand over Oberyn’s. “Stay safe little brother,” she said, and although he couldn’t hear her, you swore Oberyn’s eyes shone brighter as he turned his horse away and rode off.
Two weeks later, after many boring days, you were met with a surprise. The cemetery had not one waiting figure, but two. Elia, ever the permanent fixture, and then another horribly familiar body.
“Oberyn?”
The second figure turned, and you gasped. Oberyn’s face looked as if someone had torn it to shreds. His eyes were no more than rusted red craters in his face, and his mouth was stained in blood. His hair was sticky and matted to his temples, where two identical injuries lay. He was in his leather armor, and you were desperate to know what happened.
“So you weren’t joking,” Oberyn murmured. “You really can see ghosts.”
“What happened?” You asked desperately, not caring if anyone heard you seemingly talking to yourself. “Who did this to you?”
Oberyn sighed. “I was the Imp’s champion,” he said. “In a trial by combat. I fought The Mountain, and lost spectacularly.”
You wanted to scream. “Why?”
Elia shifted on her tombstone. Oberyn took a breath. “Revenge,” he admitted. “For Elia.”
You let out a watery sob. “You bastard!” You screamed, swinging your fists as Oberyn, who merely took the fist to the face, allowing it to pass right through him. “You stupid bastard! I can’t believe I’ve lost you! You! I can’t-“ you fell to your knees, sobs wracking your body. “I don’t want you to go.”
“Who says I’m going anywhere?” Oberyn said, crouching beside you and letting his fingers glide under your chin. The chill racing through your skin forced your head up, so you were looking into his face. “I’m not going anywhere, my little seer. You’re stuck with me for as long as you live.”
You reached out, thumbs ghosting over Oberyn’s bloodied cheeks. “You’re a mess,” you mumbled. “A bloody fucking mess.”
“Well,” Oberyn hummed. “I did just die yesterday.”
The rest of the day, you lay in the cemetery with Oberyn and Elia, occasionally joined by two children Elia admitted were hers. The leaves on the surrounding trees were finally beginning to fall, peppering the ground with dots of vivid orange until the once green grass was hidden beneath a blanket of autumn. It was peaceful, even when silvery clouds rolled through the sky and bells began to toll in the city. Shouts, too far off to decipher, split the air, and wails followed shortly after.
“It seems the world has learned of my death,” Oberyn murmured.
“It seems so,” you agreed. “The common folk have lost a good man.”
Oberyn smiled. “But not you,” he said. “You’ll never lose me.”
You laughed. “I do believe I am stuck with you forever,” you said. “Wanna head into the market tomorrow? I need to make you a funeral robe.”
Looking up at the fog silver sky, the breeze making the leaves dance on the air before they fell to the ground, Oberyn nodded. “Yeah,” he said softly, watching Elia play with her children. “We can make it a date.”
“A date,” you repeated. “Of course.”
#game of thrones#Oberyn Martell#oberyn martell x reader#oberyn martell x you#Pedro Pascal#My writing#writer wednesday
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
One Last Dance | c.h.
pairing: calum hood x reader
genre: angst
warnings: death and blood (not too graphic)
summary: servant!calum au x princess!reader.
a/n: hi! i’m still not really good with au imagines, i changed the request a little because i had no idea how to write someone getting beheaded. sorry for beign late and hope you like it!
you should read this imagine while listening to: the night we met
✰ ✰ ✰
“I love you.” He whispers before he closes his eyes for the last time. You see his soul leaving its body and, as much as try to shake it, you know that he’ll never wake up. His face lies on your hands, leaning against what was once the dress of your dreams, once white, now stained in red, the diamonds on the corsage reflect the hell you are experiencing as your lips cry out in pain.
His lifeless body is lying on the floor, getting colder and colder and you can't think of how it was transmitting heat just a few seconds before. The sword that took your happiness away lies next to your lover's body, its owner is now gone but you know where to find them, they rest in the same rooms where you once took refuge from nightmares and sought peace.
Peace. A word that sounds almost funny now, so taken for granted and appreciated now that it's gone.
Peace, that you felt as you were lying on the hill, far away from the castle, with your head on Calum's lap, while your hands intertwined daisies and his mouth told tales of monsters and princesses, princes and weddings.
Peace was what you felt when his hands, calloused by all the hard work done during the day, caressed your face during sleepless nights, in the dark, hidden from prying eyes and from a world that would never accept your love.
Peace was what you felt when his strong arms made you spin between laughter and kisses, in that white and gold room, on that same floor that now sees your smile transformed into pain and your kisses transformed into tears.
The crown falls from your head as you lower your face to caress his face and it makes a shrill noise, like a broken dream, and like never before you hate all those stones and all that iron. So many times you have prayed to be normal, to do a humble job, to wear old and filthy clothes and to be free to be able to look at those eyes in the sunlight, amid the laughter of children and the screams of peasant sellers, while some little girls looks at you and dreams of a love like yours, where nothing matters besides you.
You feel your heart tug, break, get stab, every second is more painful and you know that it'll never stop hurting.
The sun is rising from the window on your right, the mirror reflects the first rays of the sun that struggle to shed light in the darkness of the night.
Soon, someone will walk through the door in front of you, unaware of the love that has been interrupted and of the life that has been sacrificed for an alliance of peoples, for a stupid belief in social classes and gold, land and castles.
They will cross the threshold of that door, mentally repeating the chores to do just to see the princess cry over the body of a humble servant, too young to know things like love but grown up enough to fight for it. They will wonder what happened as they cover their shock with their hands and crouch down next to you, making sure you’re okay and telling you to dry your tears, because the people must not see the darkness that is hidden behind the castle gate.
And while their clothes will try to clean the blood from your hands, you will have to explain how the king, the man they acclaim so much, is unable to love, such a simple thing compared to the thousand daily feats for which he gets celebrated.
You will have to tell them about the way his sword pierced the heart of a young boy, unarmed and full of hope, without hesitation.
You will have to tell about the way he looked you in the eyes and the ice that surrounds his heart, how he did not care for the happiness of his daughter, the same daughter he shows and compliments in front of generals and other kings.
He was not supposed to know, not like this. Your father was supposed to see your love from your eyes and know about it from you, he was supposed to listen to you telling him how much Calum meant to you and to bless your secret marriage, not finding it out from jealous servants and interruping it with a murder because he promised you to someone else.
So you close your eyes and squeeze his body even closer to yours, its scent fills your nostrils and surrounds your body. Your mind starts wandering and you let it go, every place is better than the reality you are living.
He was just a boy! He had his whole life in front of him, he had humble dreams and a passion for life that only children have. He was passionate about what he did, he enjoyed learning new languages while cleaning horses and serving kings of distant lands, he loved playing a small instrument he had found in the garbage but which he treated as the most precious of treasures.
And no matter the time it was outside, he was able to bring sunshine even on the darkest days. He did his work with dedication, never left anything unfinished and helped others whenever needed. How were you supposed to move on?
He knew you loved the stars and had walked miles just to learn facts about astronomy from the best of astronomers so that he always had something new to tell you. He had been taught how to write so that he was able to tell you how much he loved you even when he couldn't speak. He had collected every flower on the lawn of the castle and put them in a small jar for you, so that you could admire their beauty even in winter.
And when the tears ran down your face, he had embroidered a handkerchief on purpose to be able to dry them, because such special tears could not be wasted.
As your mind wanders through the memories of his spontaneous kisses when he passed by by chance, you hear music in the distance.
The piano plays sweet melodies, surrounding the two of you like a warm blanket during a winter day. You stand at the center of the white and gold room, on the ballroom floor. Your white long gown whisks against the ground as he holds a hand in front of him.
He stands before you, looking beautiful as ever. His suit fits him perfectly, his brown eyes drawing you to him.
“My love.” He whispers with a sad smile on his face. There’s no trace of blood in his clothes and his eyes are still sparkling with life inside of them.
“Calum.” His name is the only thing you’re able to say. You know that it’s just a dream and any word won’t express enough what you’re feeling.
You don’t want to close your eyes, the fear of losing him again it's too much to even risk blinking. You can’t leave him again, you just can’t.
“Don’t be scared. You have a whole future ahead of you, love. You’ll reach your goals, make your dreams come true, you’ll have a happy life and I’ll be there, always by your side.”
“But you won’t be really there! We had so many plans for us, like that little house in the countryside and you promised me to teach our future children all the fairy tales you told me. It's not fair.”
You see a tear running down his face, his hand wipes it away but the sadness in his eyes can’t be wiped away that easily. Not anymore, not with a kiss or not with a sky full of stars. He won’t see them anymore, he won’t feel the sun on his skin or the warmth of the fireplace in your secret place, over the hill, to the right of the lake.
“You had a life ahead. We had so many things to do, so many dreams to fulfill, so many lands to explore. I can’t do this without you.”
“You can and you will. You are a bright, intelligent woman. You are capable of doing anything you want. I know we had so many dreams for us, but I'm sure you’ll manage to make them true in your own way. I will always be next to you, you will not see me but I will make sure that nothing else happens to you. You deserve to move forward, to become the woman you are meant to be. I believe in you. Now, come here, please. Let me hold you one last time.”
And you know that you can say whatever you want but any word will make him come back to you.
He takes your hand, holds your waist and pulls you closer. It’s a familiar thing for you, you’d danced this way a thousand times before, in this very room, the enchanting music enveloping your new world, just the two of you.
This time, thought, is different. He was about to fade away forever, you’d have to leave him behind, his smile would never bring joy to your life anymore. It feels like heaven but hurts like hell.
So, as he pulls you into his embrace, spinning you around the room, you try to ignore the tears that are running down your face. You just want to enjoy the warmth of his hugs and his hand on yours for the rest of your life, is that too much to ask?
As the music comes to an end, you feel his hands shaking and the tremor on his voice as he whispers: “It’s time to go.”
“One more song, please.” You whisper, burying your head into his shoulder, tears brimming in your eyes.
So he spins you around more, his hands never letting yours go. There’s not much time left and you know it.
“Do you remember the night we met?” You ask, a smile forming on your lips at the memory.
“I do, we were just children but I remember every detail. You were wearing that small red dress, too caught up on the lanterns flying in the sky to notice that I was looking at you. I explored all the castle and yet you were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. And when you finally saw me, instead of screaming at me because I wasn’t doing my job, you asked me if I was okay and if I had eaten enough, before telling me the story of the lanterns.”
“I wanted to make sure you were okay before boring you with my words.”
“You could have never bored me. You were the first one to show kindness to me, to treat me like one of yours.”
“Your heart is richer than any king's treasure, Calum.”
As the music fades and the weak flames of the candles in the room flick out, he holds you even closer, not bothering to hold his sobs any longer. The ballroom is getting colder and his body it's not as warm as it was before. He’s starting to feel lifeless again but you don’t want to let him go.
You’ll come back to reality, where love is hated and war is celebrated. You’ll have to pretend to be fine, showing a smile that hides an unimaginable pain. You’ll look into the eyes of your father and the irises that once never failed to reassure you will now be the reason for your cold heart.
Mostly important, you’ll have to live in a reality without Calum in it, without his smile in the morning or his kisses under the moonlight. A reality that was certainly not worth fighting for, not as much as the love you were meant to live.
“I love you too, always.” You whisper, gazing into his beautiful brown eyes, filled with so much sadness that it was almost unbearable. He smiles.
You open your eyes, your body still lays close to his, his eyes are closed and his voice is not asking you one last dance.
There’s a small smile on his face but you’re too distracted by footsteps outside the room to notice it.
#calum hood imagine#calum 5sos#calum 5 seconds of summer#calum hood#5 seconds of summer#5sos#5sos imagine#5sos imagines#luke hemmings#ashton irwin#michael clifford#angst#au imagines#calum au#calum angst#calum x you#calum x reader#calum hood imagines#calum hood x reader#calum hood x you
66 notes
·
View notes
Text
Levi Ackerman x Reader hcs. [COMM]
a/n: i haven’t written for levi in many years!! some lock lore is that i used to write for him the most, it’s actually what got me into fanfiction/anime in the first place back in 2012... so it feels very nice to write for him again. i had a lot of fun with this! :’) word count: 2k. warnings: non explicit mentions of death (not involving reader), just canon typical stuff.
Love has been a concept that remains closed off in Levi’s mind. Getting close to others is already a risk too great in the world he’s come to know, a factor that’s proven unfortunately true time and time again. When you’re close to others, it means the possibility of being hurt by them all the same when they inevitably leave. The pain of losing another he’s grown attached to outweighs the possible benefits that could come with a closer connection. This philosophy has ensnared his heart, creating a barrier that no one dared slipping past for many years.
Even though Levi makes the choice to be wary of growing closer than necessary to people, he also understands the importance of trusting in his comrades. He has his own way of mentally assessing new recruits, and didn’t think much of you initially. You were a fresh face, who hoped that your efforts would cultivate humanity’s future. He’d seen many with that spark too many times to count. All of them ending up killed in gruesome ways, or losing the shine in their eyes should they live past another expedition. Though he still has an inherent respect for anyone willing to put their lives on the line for the Survey Corps, this extending to you as well.
His initial assessment of you was proven incorrect. While no longer as naive to the horrors of the outside world, the spark inside of you remains ever bright. There’s determination, that has only grown in strength as time goes on, rather than fading away. It catches his eye, to say the least. He looks after you from afar, without even realizing it. Levi tells himself that it’d just be a shame if something happened to you. He doesn’t think anything beyond that for some time, for his own mental well being.
Your relationship starts off with no romantic intentions. Levi spots you training on your own one day, even after a grueling day of menial work that comes with being a member of the Survey Corps. He’s captivated, unable to look away from your form. It’s sloppy, he thinks, but not hopeless. You’re not hopeless. It doesn’t sound like a high compliment, but coming from him, it’s meaningful.
It’s startling when he approaches you for the first time. He’s pointing out the numerous errors in your stance and what to do to correct them, never mincing his words. Levi’s standing there, arms crossed, willing you to continue with his input. While being under the scrutiny of humanity’s strongest soldier is anxiety inducing, his advice works perfectly. He doesn’t comment further than that, turning on his heels and leaving you to your thoughts and confusion.
Keeping your body in the best possible condition is vital to staying alive. His advice, though delivered in sharp as knives critiques, serves you well. Even just the bare minimum has your technique rapidly improving. This motivation to keep growing and learning is what drives you. Levi continues to watch from a safe distance as you spend hours doing different exercises, developing your abilities. From this point on it becomes something of a tradition, as much as he tries not to think of it that way. There’s a level of subconscious attachment that comes with looking forward to seeing you improve every evening. He’s acknowledged you.
You start training together. It’s not everyday an opportunity to learn under Levi is offered, so when the hand was extended to you, you accepted it. He’s a tough yet fair teacher, offering praise only when he believes it’s deserved. Unfortunately, he can’t devote that much time to your little evenings due to his other obligations. That makes the time you shared all the more special. Despite himself, he’s looking out for you, and you him. A solid relationship begins to form.
Levi isn’t the easiest person to be around. He’s surprisingly talkative if you get him speaking on subjects that interest him, but his language remains coarse. Once you get used to this side of him, it’s for the better, hours flying by and the night sky appearing before you know it. Unlike others that tend to get offended or avoid alone time with Levi due to his reputation, you remain constant. He never brings it up, though he does wonder why you’re hellbent on seeking him out.
There are still times where Levi holds an internal battle over the unfolding events. He’s starting to like spending time with you, more than just offering wisdom on various subjects he’s knowledge about. He genuinely enjoys listening when you speak, an honor exclusive to you. Through the snark and monotonous comments, there’s clear attachment.
It gets to the point that his closer comrades even pick up on the unusual behavior, this level of respect typically reserved for no one other than Commander Erwin. Though Hanji is the only one to point this behavior out. Everyone else is too frightened at the prospect of teasing Levi over his not so subtle fondness for you. He really didn’t think he was being so obvious...
You’re on his mind more than he cares to admits. His mind wonders to you at night, when he’s in town, or even when he sees something silly that reminds him of you. Eventually, Levi’s thoughts almost always connect to you to some degree. He’ll spot something in the windows of a shop and recall how you mentioned wanting something similar, or subconsciously look for your favorite food when walking through market stalls. The thought of giving you gifts is off putting for a while since it’s a clear sign of of tenderness. And dammit, he’s trying so hard not to become attached -- but who is he kidding -- it’s far too late for that.
What Levi is good at is making swift decisions in the heat of the moment, and combat. So he has literally no idea how to approach his developing feelings for you. There are a lot of impulses, such as complimenting you, but it comes out more like an insult than anything. God bless your soul, because you’re going to be putting up with lots of uncomfortable interactions. He’s trying, okay, but he doesn’t know the first thing about romance.
How he best shows his care for you is helping around in various ways. It isn’t as embarrassing as having to offer compliments, or the other traditional ways of romancing the person you’re interested in. Levi commits to making your life easier in anyway he can. These things range from making sure your horse is in top condition, setting aside rations if he knows you’re too busy to get them yourself, and checking over your equipment personally. He presents all this by saying “You’re prone to making mistakes, so let me do it instead.” In reality he just wants to make life easier for you, don’t be fooled by the prickly comment.
He isn’t blind to the other elements of his attraction to you. You’re always glowing, an angel incarnate, beauty enough to draw in practically anyone with eyes. It was enough to draw him in after all. The first attempts at physical affection are subtle, yet heartfelt. Sitting closer to you, thighs almost touching. Leaning in closer whenever you speak. Lightly brushing his fingers against his face, claiming he saw a spec of dirt on it. All these things to gauge your reaction and build up his own confidence in pursuing you further.
The first time you kiss would be the night before an expedition. It’s always the most gut wrenching experience, anxiety ailing you so badly that sleep refuses to come. The stars are out, not a cloud in the sky. Levi comes to sit by you, chastising you for not being asleep, and offering no rebuttal when you point out that he’s also awake. It’s a serene moment, neither of you exchanging words for some time, finding comfort in each others presence. You don’t even realize how close he is to you. He speaks, the words insignificant, you’ve already long forgot what they were.
When your head turns to offer him your full attention, that’s when he leans in. A chaste kiss is pressed against your parted lips. It’s shocking to say the least, adrenaline pumping through your veins at the intimate moment. His lips are softer than you expected. He treats you with unprecedented delicacy, moving back to assess your expression through lidded eyes. When you’re willing to reciprocate he’s more than happy to let you have your way.
Levi isn’t the best with expressing himself fully through words. His actions more than compensate for this, you’ll never doubt his dedication to you. There’s no need for flowery prose, not when he has proven the lengths he’d go through to keep you safe, bearing all of himself to you. Your relationship isn’t defined by strict terminology, as he admitted to finding stuff like that “a waste of breath”. You both wordlessly acknowledge one another as partners. Any keen onlooker might be able to pick up on this, you don’t hide or put your relationship on display.
It’ll take some time for him to grow more amiable to physically expressing himself. He’s aware of his own strength and intimidating disposition, and doesn’t want to mess what’s possibly the best thing in his life up. So you’ll need to lead in most of those areas. All physical affection is reserved for private moments. Aside from maybe him whispering a sly remark or two in passing.
The affection he likes receiving from you the most would be: Complimenting his actions, when you lay your head on his shoulder, whenever you do little things to help him out without him mentioning it, and when you hug him. He’s never experienced being held by another human being. So when you do it for the first time, he’s taken aback by how pleasant it is. Your comforting scent, how your warmth envelopes him, and how he can feel your heart beating. It’s one of his favorite things in the world, other than you of course.
The type of affection that he gives you the most would be: Acknowledging your growth in different areas (especially if he knows you’re insecure in one of them), putting his hand over yours, reminding you to take care of yourself, and kissing you on the forehead. Levi is a very proactive lover. He’s got a keen eye, picking up on things about yourself before you even notice them. While he might not always have the most tact, everything he does for you comes from a wholesome place.
Levi remains serious in the public eye. But when it’s just the two of you, or the company is people he’s close with, he loosens up considerably. Most of his jokes go over your head, since he always delivers them with such a deadpan. When he gets you to laugh with his dry wit though, by god does it feel good, he could listen to your laughter forever. It might even make his face heat up.
You’re capable of making him smile more than anyone else! Though it’s still rare, that just means that when he does, you treasure it all the more. He smiles the most when you lose yourself in conversation. Rambling about your dreams, stories from your childhood, frustrating encounters that you had that day... all of it warms his heart in a way he never thought possible. You’re an addicting ray of sunshine, that he’s hellbent on protecting.
Levi knows, now more than ever, what he wants from the future. Alongside protecting and expanding humanity’s territory, it’s you that he wants by him, and no cost is too great to achieve it. He won’t lose you -- he’s already lost so much -- so expect him to be protective. There may be limits to what he can do, but they’re all arbitrary to him. Rules and morality mean nothing in the face of ensuring your safety, and he’s vowed this to you. That one day, you’ll have a secure future, forever tied to each other. He might not mention the last part as it’s embarrassing, but the general sentiment is understood.
#levi#levi ackerman#levi x reader#levi x you#levi ackerman x reader#Attack on Titan Imagine#attack on titan#attack on titan x reader#aot#aot x reader#aot x you#shingeki no kyojin#shingeki no kyoujin x reader#snk x reader#my stuff#commissions
353 notes
·
View notes
Text
To Begin Again, Chapter 11: “Riding”
A/N: I know it's been a while since I updated this story but I hope you like this short little chapter. :) It's been fun revisiting this story and I just love this AU of Jamie and Claire. It’s been a while since I wrote so apologies in advance and as always, comments and suggestions are always welcome. Hope you're staying safe in this pandemic. Love always, M
This chapter is dedicated to @samncait4ever. 🧡 Thank you for being a wonderful friend and fandom ally. Rest in Peace. <3
AO3 / CH: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10
XXXX
Jamie and Claire spent the next two days rekindling with each other inside the laird's room, only bothering to leave the chambers once to grab food from the kitchen that will last them for days.
They flitted through talking, eating, coming together, and sleeping ( not particularly in that order ) until they’ve reached another pause in what has been a blissful 2 days.
"Jamie," Claire said softly, a hand caressing the back of his head, "I don't think I've ever been so happy." Jamie rolled to one side, shifting his weight carefully so as not to squash his wife, and lifted himself to lie face-to-face with Claire.
"Nor me, my Sassenach," he said, and kissed her lightly, but lingering, so that she had time just to close her lips in a tiny bite on the fullness of his lower lip. "It's no just the bedding, ye ken," he said, drawing back a little at last. His eyes looked down at Claire, a soft deep blue like the warm tropic sea.
"No," Claire said, touching his cheek. "It isn't."
"To have ye with me again -to talk wi' you -to know I can say anything, not guard my words or hide my thoughts...God, Sassenach," he said, "the Lord knows I am lust-crazed as a lad, and I canna keep my hands from you-or anything else-" he added, wryly, "but I would count that all well lost, had I no more than the pleasure of havin' ye by me, and to tell ye all my heart."
Claire’s heart ached and soared with Jamie’s confession, much more to the fact that his sentiments echo to hers so strongly.
“So tell me all yer heart” Jamie said, “We’ve got time now”
Claire gave a small chuckle but moved to settle a bit more to Jamie’s side. "It was lonely without you," she whispered. "So lonely." She need not say more.
“Do ye regret it?” he asked, not really meaning to dampen their high but a question that came naturally in the conversation.
Claire didn’t even think about not answering but owed it to her and Jamie’s newfound strength to bring up these kinds of conversation in their reunion.
“The time we lost, yes. Brianna, no - definitely not.” She gave him a wry smile and continued. “There are so many what-ifs, the things we dreamed about happening, the future we planned… a part of me wonders what our life would be like if we stayed in the 18th century, raised Bree in that time with Jenny and Ian.”
“Aye, I do ken what yer saying. I spent a lot of time in the cave thinkin’ about ye and the bairn and what she’d look like, how ye’ll be as the lady of the house, something of the like’
Claire glanced at the window where the light was strong through the blinds, telling us that it was probably mid to past noon.
“Jamie, as much as I’d like to stay here another day, Bree’s coming in the evening and we need to get up and put our clothes on at some point.”
Knowing full well that Jamie won’t be the first to comply, Claire reluctantly got up and rummaged through the pile of discarded clothes on the floor to look for some undergarments and pants. Jamie was still not moving, staring at her with hooded eyes she knew so well but she would not budge as well.
“Oh, come on, get up!” She said laughingly as she pulled the blanket off Jamie’s body forcing him to groan in the cold. “There’s plenty more to see around! care for a stroll with me?”
“With ye, anywhere, Sassenach.”
-
Bree’s last class for the day cancelled allowing her to travel up to Lallybroch earlier than scheduled. Her parents' directions were fairly easy to follow and now, she found herself on the rough path towards a 3-story building that was meant to be her home.
She saw every detail as told by her mother - the arch that bore the Fraser emblem at the top, the handsome three-story manor of harled white, windows outlined in the natural gray stone, a high slate roof with multiple chimney’s and several smaller whitewashed buildings clustered about.
She took it all in and expected to feel all the history to overwhelm her but for some strange reason, it brought her a sense of peace and belonging.
She parked her car and proceeded to knock on the front door. After three tries and no answer, she decided to explore the backyard and found out why her knocks and calls were unanswered.
Over the horizon, Brianna saw two horses racing one another in the open field, the competition clearly fierce.
“You’ve lost your touch on the horse, Sassenach” Jamie called, looking briefly behind him to watch Claire.
Claire commanded her horse to a faster speed, easily surpassing Jamie, calling him out “Sorry, you were saying?” she laughed. “Race you to the stables!”
With her headstart, Claire ran out Jamie and won the race.
Once she dismounted her horse and led her white horse to her stable for some food and water while Jamie followed suit, dismounting from his black stallion.
“I should’ve known you were holding back from me, Sassenach.” Jamie said, walking towards her as she closed the door to her horse’s stables.
“Well, if last night was any indication, you shouldn’t have doubted that” Claire replied, allowing herself to be trapped as Jamie placed both his hands on the stable door, blocking her way.
"I thought you'd be a little sore but I seem to be mistaken" Jamie teased, leaning in for a kiss until -
“Mama! I’m surprised that you can ride...” Brianna began her question “... a horse!”
“Bree! You’re here! I thought you won’t arrive till nighttime” Claire pulled away from Jamie’s arrest and went to greet their daughter.
“Yeah, my last class got cancelled. Roger and Mrs. Graham will come in a couple of days.” she explained. “Hi, Da” Bree proceeded to give Jamie a brief hug as well.
“Well, it’s almost lunch, I think we have pork chops we can easily deep fry.”
“Sounds good.”
The trio walked back to the house where Claire proceeded to the fridge and told Jamie and Bree where everything else in the kitchen are.
“So, tell me about the house” Bree asked as they prepared their food.
Claire and Jamie proceeded to exchange stories, flitting between when Jamie’s father built it, to stories of the Fraser children being born in the house, to when they stayed there for a couple of months after they got married, how Jenny and Ian kept it in the family through the challenging years in the past and how Claire purchased and renovated to what it is now.
“It’s a rather large piece of land, that’s why we need the horses.” Claire finished the story.
“How’d you learn?” Bree asked.
“Well, you know my stories with Uncle Lamb and how we traveled to archaeological sites when I was younger. I had to learn pretty quickly how to ride. And then, when I met your Da, he was a soldier and a stable boy, taking care of the horses, so I got to spend a lot of time watching him train the young kids in the castle” Claire explained.
“Do ye know how to ride, Brianna?” Jamie asked as they fixed the table.
“Uhm, no.”
“I can teach ye! If ye want, of course.” Jamie stammered, hoping he did not push his limits.
“Yes! I would love to.” Bree exclaimed excitedly. “I’ve always wanted to try but never got the chance.”
“Why not? I thought Boston had good facilities for horseback riding?” Jamie asked. Bree and Claire exchanged glances but came out with it.
“Frank and I were either too busy with the university or the hospital so we never really got to take Bree out to spontaneous weekend trips.” Claire began to explain.
“Our trips are planned months in advance so everyone is free. We mostly went to historical sites or the beach for maximum relaxation but adventures like these didn’t happen often.” Bree followed.
Jamie looked unsure how to proceed based on their stories as it seemed half fun. Claire and Bree picked up on it and decided to continue on baby steps when it comes to telling Jamie details of their life the past 20 years.
“Maybe you can start teaching Bree how to ride later after lunch and we show her around the house” Claire pitched.
“Sounds like a plan!” Brianna agreed with a clap.
They proceeded on eating their pork chops while continuing with exchanging stories about Lallybroch. After lunch, they showed Bree to her room while they all freshened up and took a short nap.
Around 4:00 in the afternoon, they all went back to stables where Jamie introduced Bree to one of the mares, Jilly, gave a little lecture and then let her mount up. Claire was content watching on the side with a basket full of snacks for the afternoon.
“Alright, now, just try and be comfortable on the horse. Sit straight and relax. You know when they say that horses smell fear, it’s true” Jamie said to Bree. “Okay, I’m going to take you on a short walk around.” Brianna nodded and gently held on the reins.
Jamie took the horse for a walk around an open lawn and Brianna pretty quickly caught up with the rhythm. After 5 trots, Jamie put the horse on a gallop as a challenge and his daughter ran with it excellently.
“This is fun!” Bree called out to Claire.
“Wait till you dismount it then let me know again.” Claire joked. “But you’re doing great, sweetheart!”
After two hours on and off the horse, night was falling in and they decided to call it a day.
“I’ll go ahead and start dinner, hope you like carbonara. You two, take care of things around here.” Claire declared.
“I’ll walk her to the stables.” Brianna insisted and took the reins from her Da and walked Jilly back to the stables.
“I’ll follow you in a minute, Bree” Jamie said as Claire went towards him for a snuggle as they watched their daughter walk ahead.
“She’s a natural, Jamie” Claire whispered. “Just like her father”
“Don’t make me cry, Claire. But yes, she is” Jamie pulled Claire tighter and gave her a light kiss in the hair. “I always imagined how teaching and taking our children out on a horse would look like. Now, I don’t have to.”
“Aww, darling. It truly has been the best days and I know there is more to come.” Claire lifted her head and gave Jamie a quick kiss. “Now, go and teach our daughter how to rub down a horse and I’ll get dinner started.”
#outlander#outlander fanfic#outlander fanfiction#fanfic#fanfiction#to begin again#to begin again AU#jamie fraser#claire fraser#jamie x claire#brianna fraser#jamie x claire x bree#mia writes again after a long time#canon divergent AU
74 notes
·
View notes
Text
When there’s no Hope
I ended up pushing myself too far for some of the stories, the result was a massive burnout that I’m still not completely recovered from, I think this was actually the last story I made that pushed me over the edge. I only just got around to editing it. Anyways enjoy.
!!!WARNING!!! READ TAGS BEFORE READING. BITTY TORTURE. DONT LIKE DON’T READ
Some cases are simply too dire to help, this was one of them.
You seldom got cases as bad as this, cases where training simply was not an option and the owner was simply too blind to see it. The woman in front of you was describing such a case, tears in her eyes as she described what had to be the most dangerous bitty you’d ever heard of.
The bitty in question had grown to the size of a bear, just feeding him alone was breaking her bank, he still had the childish, dumb demeanor of a pure bite. Furthermore his breed specific problems made you flinch a little, you were well aware of how dangerous they could be, whether from being unmuzzled to only having regard for their own needs you knew full well that a bear sized toddler with knives for teeth was not good. Furthermore, despite leaving out what must have happened to her, you could tell exactly what had happened to the woman coming to you for help.
Her descriptions of this pure bite only cemented in your mind that she had become so blind to what was really happening that she forgot about everything but her tormentors' feelings. You ended up having to stop her halfway through her pleading to firmly lay down a hard truth for her to hear.
“I can’t help you, and frankly I’m afraid I can’t let you go home to this bitty either.” You stated, watching as the woman in front of you stood shocked and teary eyed at you.
“Nonononono! You misunderstood me! He’s really a sweet boy he just gets muddle headed during heats!” She replied, staring at you desperately as you shook your head.
“Ma’am no. There is only one thing that can be done about this bitty.” You stated, fixing her with a look. “Firstly, he was never meant to be a pet, and due to his size he’s long past the point where he’s allowed out for the exercise he needs. Frankly he has two options, a zoo, or death.” You stated, watching as the woman stared at you in shock. “But based entirely on the stories you’ve told me of his treatment of you and the bitties around him, I know for fact that no zoo would take him.” You stated, before sighing one last time.
“I also cannot in good conscience let you go home and wait to be murdered by this bitty either.” You stated, and watched as the woman’s face twisted in anger.
“You can’t do this! I came for help and you’re talking about MURDERING my baby! He would never hurt-” You stopped her before she could finish her sentence.
“But he already has.” You replied, pointing to the bruises littering her form. Her arm was even in a cast, and she got silent. You could tell that the bitty in question had done something unspeakable to this woman. He likely couldn't take no for an answer given his intellect and she couldnt force him away due to his size.
“Now, in consideration for your feelings for your bitty, I’m only offering you this so he won’t suffer.” You stated, as you stood up, and walked over to her, you had been in a fortunate enough position growing up to be one of the lucky few with a more developed magical sense. It had always been an option for you to become a dedicated mage due to it, even now you were still getting offers of magical colleges to further develop it. You never had any interest though, you always preferred the sciences over magic. You supposed though, that now was as good a time as any to use a little of your magic to get your point across. Summoning a green light you walked over and brushed the woman’s cheek with your hand. The bags under her eyes disappeared and she stared at you with wonder, looking at your hand as she felt the magic wash over her.
“I could call the humane society, they would most likely come and subdue him without the use of magic, which would be a violent and huge affair. Or…” You held up your glowing hand.
“I could come in and make the situation as painless as possible.” You stated.
She looked at you with so much uncertainty in her eyes that you sat back down.
“The choice is yours, I know it’s hard, and you probably already resent me. But someone is going to die. Whether it’s you or the pure bite is entirely up to you.”
----
The woman was so distraught by your ultimatum, screaming profanities at you about being heartless, inhumane, a murderer, but you simply pulled out your phone and looked up the number for the humane society, making sure she could see you do so. She ended up collapsing onto your sofa, crying something intelligible, before agreeing. She looked guilty, so guilty, about being raped by a bitty, about supposedly breaking some sort of promise to the bitty, about her assumption that this bitty wasn't dangerous despite the fact that she’d already been hurt so deeply by him.
You ended up talking more, with you urging her to seek help from a mental health professional to help with her grief, she still tried to beg you to reconsider, but you wouldn't budge, making sure she understood very clearly that she would die if she continued to defend the bitty.
Surprisingly it was easier than you thought it would be to convince her to put down the bitty, you weren't entirely too thrilled about it having to be you who she wanted to put the creature down, but nonetheless it was more likely to end painlessly.
Despite your offer to subdue the pure bite, it was still something that was incredibly difficult for you. You had to pull out some of the old magic books that your grandfather gave you and your siblings when you were younger. Your siblings had all gone down the path of dedicated mages, while you decided you loved horses more than magic. You had long forgotten some of the spells you learned when younger, and had to look up a spell to subdue a large violent creature. Eventually you found it, but still had to write it down on your hand even as you left for the woman’s house.
---
Seeing the bitty was an entirely other matter though, and you had to suck in a deep breath as you stared at the bear sized bitty in front of you. You struggled to comprehend just how it could have grown to this size. You’d heard of certain breeds of bitties who grew as they aged, but you had no idea how old one of those bitties would have to be in order to get as large as this pure bite.
The owner wasn't glaring at you anymore, she seemed to be cowering as she stared at the bitty. You could tell just by looking that he was in the middle of a heat, he was pumping at his large cock as he stared at his owner.
“Mom.” It grumbled out, and it seemed to lumber towards its owner, he reached out a hand and really you werent in the mood to see a giant bear bitty rape anyone, so you didnt waste any time.
You took one look at your hand before shouting out a spell, drawing a shape in the air with your finger as you said it.
You were out of practice, and a small puff of purple escaped your hand.
Growling to yourself, you stared at the giant bitty as his owner pulled away from him. He bared his giant sharp teeth and let out a frustrated noise.
“Mommy! Make me feel better!” He growled out, reaching for her again, this time his large boney hand caught hold of her, and she shrieked a little.
“BABY NO!” She yelled, staring at you with a pleading look. You grimaced again, and collecting yourself you tried again.
You ended up succeeding in your second try, and a large purple symbol slammed into the large bitty. He ended up stumbling a bit, but shockingly enough he ended up shaking it off.
Your eyes ended up widening at this development, and you backed away in fear at the sight of the bitty. He looked angry, angry and still pumping his giant cock furiously as he glared at you.
“Go way! I want mommy not you!” He shouted and let go of his owner to lumber towards you.
Panicking you casted the spell again, and another purple symbol crashed into the bitty, this time causing him to howl in utter rage. He practically started sprinting towards you. You only barely managed to run past his lumbering form as he smashed into the door of his owners house.
“Nooooo! Baby please be good! She’s here to help!” The woman cried, bitter fearful tears running down her cheeks as she shook in place. You ended up casting the spell again frantically. Watching it slam into the bitty only to slow him down.
You realized exactly what was happening after that, and in response, before the bitty could turn you casted again. You could see the giant pure bite was wobbling, and could no longer run, so you casted again, and again, and again. Until finally, the giant lumbering threat fell, face first onto the ground, practically drooling.
“Cnt mvvv.” He tried to say, and you ended up sighing in relief. Your heart was pounding, and there was a hole in the door you came through.
The woman was still shaking, seemingly petrified by the giant bitty on the ground. She didn't even approach, just stared at him helplessly. You gave her a once over before you decided that it was better to get this all over with quickly.
The fact that casting the spell once had not been sufficient was a glaring reminder of just how out of practice you were with this. You weren't a dedicated mage, and while you were sure your siblings could have done this in one try you were different. Still this next part was something that you had done countless times at a young age. It was one of the basic elements of becoming a mage.
Making your way over, you planted your feet firmly on each side of his body. You hadn't done something like this in a long time, but really it was relatively painless despite how it sounded.
Lifting the shirt of the pure bite you reached into the very center of his magic, placing your hands firmly around the massive pulsating AI that rested in his chest. Then, careful so as not to completely damage the flow of your own magic, you started to absorb the magic resting within him.
The pure bite grunted at first, before he started to yawn. He stopped being able to move as the magic drained from him, and got progressively more tired as the process went on. You struggled a little to circulate the magic in a way that allowed your body to make the magic your own, and frequently had to stop for long moments to give yourself time. Really all the practice with places of power when you were younger made this process incredibly familiar, and eventually you fell back into the groove of how it was supposed to be done.
The pure bite eventually fell into a deep sleep, and shortly after parts of him began to dissolve gently into dust, floating away as you worked. You felt your own center of magic expanding, a little uncomfortably at first, the years that you hadn't done this coming to catch up with you, but eventually you had flexed your magical muscle enough that the expansion started to feel natural, pleasant even, like breaking through into a new level of power.
It wasn't long before you got comfortable enough with the flow of magic to where you could finally end the process. You practically glowed as you completely sucked up the remaining magic in the pure bites reserves, and closed your eyes to go into a deep meditation, as the body of the pure bite basically dissolved into dust. There was no screaming, no pleading, just a deep sleep that ended painlessly. You sat for a long time circulating the flow of magic, before you could finally open your eyes to see the woman in front of you staring almost confused at the dust on the ground.
“He just fell asleep... “ She stated, and she looked dazed as she said this, not distressed, not sad, just in disbelief. Honestly it looked like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
Nodding at her, you smiled gently. “He just fell asleep..” You stated, which seemed to cause a dam to break in the façade of the woman. She didn't answer you, just placed her head into her hands as she cried. Whether it was from relief or grief you had no idea.
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
Something Real
Genre: angst and fluff Word Count: 3318 Summary: Jaskier loves someone new every night - maybe this night, it can be Geralt. He craves Jaskier's touch so much that he will take the pain in the morning. ao3: Something Real
Jaskier likes to live a little. He likes fabric that feels soft against his skin. He likes smelling of flowers. He likes food that tastes good. He likes things that are beautiful – he likes people who are beautiful. He goes to sleep after a hearty meal and with another human next to him and the glow of a feeling around him, like he's whole. In the morning, he is well rested, but still restless. He needs to get out, to get away. Not running away – running towards something. Towards the sun rising in the east, towards another town, another evening of food and laughter, another person whose eyes he falls in love with. And he's awake the next morning, too awake.
Jaskier likes having things. But he doesn't like keeping them.
He doesn't know what he's chasing, not until he sees a strange brooding man in the corner of the tavern and thinks ah, there's someone real. And when he follows him he feels a rush, fear, excitement – something real instead of a magnitude of almost emotions.
He stops following the sun, starts following a horse called Roach and a stubborn man who doesn't speak much with words.
And it's good. When they're at a tavern, Jaskier takes beautiful people to bed. He looks to feel at ease for a little while.
But then – then he learns the dry wit of the witcher. He learns to read the looks in his eyes. He learns that exasperated look is one of fondness – fear becomes an almost emotion because he's never really in danger – he learns to trust. He learns that witchers can have a heart, such a kind heart. And then -
He eats and he drinks in a tavern one night. There's a woman with auburn hair who can't keep her eyes off him. She tastes a little like cherry and she touches him like he's worth dedicating her time to. Usually, he feels the glow of something in his chest as he falls asleep and it's only gone in the morning. But tonight, next to the woman with auburn hair, he lies still wanting. Craving. So the next night, he finds someone else. He finds someone who whispers sweet compliments in his ear, makes him a dozen empty promises. When he closes his eyes after, all he can think about are piercing yellow eyes. He finds someone with a big, scary-looking sword and broad shoulders. But they have short hair and brown eyes and Jaskier is still not satisfied. (He's never satisfied.)
When he finds Geralt the next morning, he sees him standing there with Roach, tending to her carefully and whispering in her ear. He craves – he craves the beauty in the angle of Geralt's jaw, the beauty in the colour of his hair, the beauty in the shape of his lips -
He's -
Well. He really should have seen this coming.
_________
Jaskier is just so human. So painfully human. So painfully – untouchable. At first, Geralt tries to get rid of him, because it's never been a good idea to get involved with the human world, and he's never met someone as human as Jaskier.
Jaskier is all these impressions, these almost memories of his past - that touch to his shoulder - that flutter of his heart - that glint in his eyes - Jaskier is so many things Geralt doesn't understand - So human. So different. So much more.
Geralt likes watching him, just to see the life in his movements. When Jaskier isn't looking, sometimes just out of the corner of his eye. The way Jaskier's eyes light up when he's found someone he's interested in. Jaskier loves quick and fast and foolishly, someone else every evening.
At first, Geralt is curious at it. It's strange, because he knows Jaskier cares – about everyone, about everything. He gets enchanted by a laugh, by a wink, by a hand on his shoulder. He gets led away by a stranger when the opportunity presents itself and Geralt is alone.
The irritating part about it is that it's... disturbing. He's overly aware of the empty bed next to his when he goes to sleep in their room.
Jaskier wants Geralt to talk more, to open up. But he can't hear the things Geralt hears in his head every night. The fear-filled screms. The gasps of pain. The cries for help. He has trouble falling asleep on nights like these. He can get to rest only when he imagines Jaskier singing to him softly.
Or Jaskier touching his arm, his face. Softly.
But Jaskier's not here – he's touching someone else and that's fine. They're not – they're not anything. He's not anyone to spend the night with. He's not someone to waste your soft smiles and your sweet whispers on. He's not the kind of person you ask out for a drink – he's not a kind of person at all.
The next morning, they part again. Which is fine. They're not friends. They're not anything.
Geralt doesn't belong anywhere or with anyone. Most people he meets once and then never again, or maybe in a decade or two. There's no place he comes back to, no faces he sees every day. No roof to give him shelter. There's only him and Roach and the road. And then - then there is Jaskier. And at some point, the quiet is more strange than his unstoppable chatter. At some point, when Geralt is on his own, he starts feeling homesick. _________
Geralt gets hired because people have been disappearing in the village. Jaskier is with him again and it puts something to rest in Geralt's mind that's always in motion when Jaskier isn't there.
Geralt goes to kill the monster – only it's not a monster, it's a human – a human kidnapping young women – killing them -
The monster is weak, much weaker than most other monsters Geralt encounters, but he struggles more for a reason Geralt can't explain to himself. He gets a cut across his cheek, a hard punch across his nose.
The woman who hired him is there, angry and scared, but more angry -
Geralt can't stop her, and he can't stop the knife lodging itself in her abdomen.
He stands over two dead bodies and a living horse, a bloody dagger in his hand. Suddenly, the stable boy is front of him, leaning over the woman's body. Geralt wants to say something, searches for the words – apologize – but the boy searches the woman for a bag of coins -
He shrugs when he catches Geralt's gaze.
“It's not like she'll still be needing it,” he says and is gone in the blink of an eye.
The horse is nervous, it leans down over the woman's body, nudges her.
She's gone, Geralt wants to say, but he can't bring out the words. All he can think about is the boy's shrug, the coins in his hands.
Geralt doesn't know how long he's standing there before Jaskier shows up. He takes in the scene in quiet shock. Then, he walks to the horse and starts soothing it.
“Shh, it's alright,” he says. Geralt closes his eyes. He slowly calms his breathing. “It's alright.”
Geralt looks at Jaskier, wonders if he should say something terrible. Looks like I won't be getting paid tonight.
Once the horse has calmed down and Jaskier has fed it, he moves to Geralt.
“Oh my, Geralt, are you hurt?” he says, clearly concerned. About what? A cut across his cheek? Geralt grunts. “Let's get back to the tavern. I'm going to fix this,” Jaskier says and puts a hand on Geralt's shoulder. Geralt looks back at the bodies and the blood on the ground, at the unfixable.
He got it wrong, he thinks. Jaskier isn't human at all.
________
Once the village knows what happened, they are back in their room and Geralt doesn't go to sleep, even after Jaskier has tended to his wounds. His soft touch gone from Geralt's face. He sits on the bed. And she died with her eyes wide open – her dead eyes staring at him – and he tries to remember her name, but there are so many years and so many people who – so many names -
And Jaskier is here in the room with him. He's here, even though most nights he isn't. Most nights, Geralt is not the kind of person you feel comfortable falling asleep around. Unless they're on the road, sleeping out in the open, in the woods, then someone's presence is appreciated – even Geralt's.
Being a witcher, it's like walking through the desert for years on end. Adapted to it. Used to it. And now, when he looks at Jaskier, it's like being lunged under water, like being pushed into it and suddenly it's all around him, but he's not drowning. Suddenly, he's breathing under water. But that doesn't mean Geralt is someone to love.
The voices come back, then. Even though Jaskier is here, they come back. Help, they say. Help me. It's only after a few minutes that Geralt realizes the voice in his head is his own. Jaskier is looking at him, as if he's waiting for something.
Can you plant a flower in the waste land that is my heart?
“Jaskier -” Geralt says and Jaskier is next to him in an instant. Geralt slowly raises his hand, asking, you're here tonight, so just – just for tonight -
Jaskier lets out a startled breath, but he doesn't draw away. Then he pulls Geralt into his arm, presses him close. Geralt doesn't say a word, just presses his forehead into the crook of Jaskier's neck. He knows Jaskier is doing him a favour, but he feels safe all the same. A little warmer than usual. He falls asleep and finally dreams of nothing.
__________
They don't talk about it in the morning or for weeks after. Jaskier goes home with nobelmen's wives, comes back with love bites in the morning. He's always a foot-step away from being with someone else – someone who becomes more important than Geralt, if only for a night.
The feeling is always there, though Geralt doesn't think too hard about it. It's not a choice. It's just another unchangeable fact of the world. Witchers kill monsters, the world turns dark at night, Geralt loves - Well. It's really better not to think about it.
When Jaskier is away again, Geralt drinks ale for the warm feeling in his chest – but it's gone again in the morning. And so is Jaskier – always near, always gone.
__________
They're at some nobleman's party. Jaskier has a crowd hanging on his lips, listening to his songs. Geralt watches him, the life in him. Which one of them will Jaskier take home with him?
When Jaskier comes to talk to him, Geralt nearly smiles. He is about to reach out to touch his shoulder, when someone calls out to get Jaskier's attention and Geralt's fingers meet empty air.
He swallows and turns away himself, trying to seem unaffected. But Geralt is lonely tonight and he wonders – why can't it be me? The one you come home with tonight? Jaskier is always out of reach, always slips out from underneath his fingers.
“Geralt, I'm about to-” Jaskier starts and Geralt catches his wrist. He halts – he knows this a card he can play only once. But he can't watch Jaskier walk away again. So he tugs.
_________
Being in love with Geralt is like being in love with a legend. Jaskier is nothing to a man like that - nothing but a side quest, a person to save, a stop on his way to bigger and better things. No one permanent. No one worth staying around for. So Jaskier knows that all he'll ever get are phantom feelings. A stranger's touch, never the real thing. So Jaskier is startled when Geralt grabs his wrist. He tries to find something in Geralt's eyes – what do you want? A distraction?
Then Geralt kisses him - and it's the closeness Jaskier has been craving. It's everything. It's nothing.
Jaskier draws in a shaky breath. “What do you say,” he says and licks his lips, “why don't we move this somewhere... more comfortable?” Geralt gives him a curt nod. So that's what Geralt is after. Right. Jaskier knows how to do that, he's good at that.
(He's never satisfied.)
Is that what they will be from now on? Trying to still some hunger for human touch Geralt has? For you, Jaskier thinks, I'm willing to learn the art of waking up alone. The art of pretending like your touch is all that I want. Feelings? Never heard of those.
They lie down together on one bed and Jaskier is on Geralt in an instant. I know you need me to remind you. That you can still feel warmth. That you are not alone. That there is still love in the world, no matter how dark it turns.
Let me remind you the world is gentle. __________
Jaskier is right next to him. Jaskier is kissing him. Jaskier is close against his chest - and he is still out of reach. And Geralt knows Jaskier's love flickers and burns - burns out so quickly- so he'll have him, if just a little - have him without having - Hope against hope he'll stay once he got what he wanted. That he won't move on to bigger things, at least not right away. Geralt can't hold on to someone like him, someone who burns so bright. His lips visit Jaskier's neck, the space below his ear, his cheek. Will you still love me once you've had this?
He runs his fingers over Jaskier's chest.
Will you still love my sleep filled eyes and my messed-up hair once you've seen it up-close?
Geralt presses his forehead against Jaskier's.
Will you still love my hand when it grips too tightly?
He keeps his touch gentle when he moves his fingers across the side of Jaskier's face.
Will you still love my heart once you've heard how slow it's beating?
Jaskier only ever loves for one night – Geralt knows he's no exception. His love won't last for long, even if it survives the night. Jaskier has seen the monsters, the magic and the violence - but he hasn't seen how dark a place Geralt's mind is.
Geralt's heart beats a little faster, just a little faster than it usually would. Remind me you can touch someone's hair without pulling on it.
Jaskier runs his fingers through Geralt's hair.
Remind me you can touch someone's face with your hand without putting the full force of a punch behind it.
Jaskier takes Geralt's face into both his hands.
That you can put your lips to someone's skin without intending to bite. Remind me what two people can mean to each other -
Jaskier kisses his lips, breathes into him.
Geralt remembers that there didn't always use to be voices in his head.
_________
Jaskier wakes the next morning alone. He's not satisfied. (Never satisfied.) He wonders if Geralt knows, or if he thinks it's the same for them both. He hopes that Geralt understood him, at least. That the world is not just blades and fire and a hundred edges to cut yourself on – it's kind. It's gentle. Or it can be. In that moment, Geralt steps into the room, fully clothed, and looks at him with a calculating gaze. Jaskier's breath lodges in his throat. He craves the beauty of Geralt's kind heart.
“Jaskier, I -” “I love you,” Jaskier blurts out, then slams both his hands on his mouth.
_________
I love you. Geralt can't say it back. Because maybe then he will get to keep this. If he doesn't admit how far Jaskier has already pulled him in, maybe he will stay once his infatuation has disappeared again. It could be minutes before Jaskier changes his minds, maybe hours. What are you going to love next? A lute with ripped out strings? A kettle covered in rust? A dull sword? Jaskier slowly lowers his arms again, misery evident in his eyes. Geralt clenches his jaw and watches as Jaskier's face falls further – a temporary pain that will only last until Jaskier comes to his senses again. What will you love? A sword with blood still tripping off of it? Geralt crosses his arms, then uncrosses them again. He tries to think of something to say that won't give away the truth. Who are you going to love next? Someone human? Someone whole? Someone who laughs and smiles?
Jaskier's gaze flickers away from him again.
“Ah,” Jaskier says. “I can see you're trying to be kind. There's no need.”
Someone who has never seen the look of terror on a man's face right before he dies? “Jaskier...” “Don't. Just don't say anything. I'm not stupid. I know you're not in love with me.”
Geralt steps a little closer – how can he fix this without ruining this?
“It's fine,” Jaskier says softly. “You didn't make me any promises last night.”
_________
Jaskier closes his eyes and remembers – how peaceful Geralt's face looked once he'd fallen asleep. He wonders if he will ever let him that close again – if he would have, had Jaskier not run his stupid mouth again.
Are you scared the skin of our entangled legs will grow together if you hold me too close? I will not hold you prisoner in the space between my arms. But if you wanted to - if you wanted to stay, I would let you carve your name into the bark of my chest.
He came so close last night – almost, almost feeling something real – what he's been looking for, what he's been imitating for years on end.
“I -” Geralt says. He's been carefully moving closer, like Jaskier's a spooked animal. Don't treat me differently now. Don't pity me. “I'm not as not in love with you as you think I am.”
Jaskier frowns, but his heart beat speeds up a little. “What are you saying? Don't speak in riddles now, please.” “I -” Geralt shakes his head. “You don't want to hear this.”
What, how I'm not enough? How I'm not what you want?
“I do.” Tell me the truth even if it's painful.
“What about tonight?” Geralt asks, his jaw tense. “When some doe-faced girl smiles at you a little too brightly? When someone invites you in their bed? Will you still want to hear it then?”
Jaskier can only stare in bewildered surprise.
“Surely, you must know,” he says. He shakes his head and laughs a little. “Really, Geralt, not even you can be this obtuse.”
“What?” “You're different, of course. Of course. You're real. You're the only thing that is.”
“You'll stick around?” Geralt says and clenches his jaw more. “Even when it all goes to shit?” “If it all goes – no, in fact, there's not even an if there,” Jaskier says. “We're being optimistic today. A little giddy, too. But you have to forgive me – I'm in love.” “That so,” Geralt says, and Jaskier has managed to coax a smile from him. Geralt's not fully convinced. But it's okay – Jaskier has time. “Yeah,” he says softly, “come here.” They settle on the bed again and Jaskier presses his ear against Geralt's chest. He listens to his slow heart beat. Geralt is running his fingers up and down Jaskier's head and his hand is shaking a little – like he's scared. Or maybe just nervous. Jaskier allows himself a small smile.
He's finally satisfied.
#the witcher fanfiction#the witcher fic#geraskier fic#geraskier fanfiction#the witcher#geraskier#witcher fanfiction#witcher fic#geralt x jaskier
128 notes
·
View notes
Photo
I'm looking for a trans sensitivity reader (for Marcie) and possibly a poc sensitivity reader (for the monsters vs mewmans plot), so if you're available, please tell me, and we'll figure something out.
Forgive my inability to draw humans, please.
I know this is a big departure from my usual content, so I'd like to make sure you know that watching SVTFOE is not necessary to enjoy this AU, as everything needed to understand the plot is explained in-story. In fact, I'd love to have someone who's never even heard of a svftoe to read it so I can make sure it makes its own logical sense.
Anyways...
(putting this under a read more for your scrolling purposes)
Hi. I'm Sage, and I would like to talk about a show I really liked. The past tense being the operative, as it used to be good, but...
I started watching SVTFOE after watching the great Steven Universe, which meant I had high expectations for it. And it met those expectations! From the beginning I was hooked. It was a good show. But as the seasons went on, it started to... rot.
Now, something to know about me is that I do not invest myself wisely. I love the things I love deeply and with passion. I get attached easily, and I love to theorize about the things I love. So I was heartbroken when SVTFOE ended the way it did, with none of my questions answered.
And when my theories were better than canon, well, that meant I had a new project: a complete rewrite of Star vs. the Forces of Evil. This AU will start similar to canon, but gradually diverge from it until it's something completely new. It will also have five separate "seasons".
So here's my AU: Star and Marcie and The Forces Of Evil (aka samatfoe). This AU will tear apart the scraps of lore that we got from SVTFOE and expand on it and make new lore, all narrated by my lovely OC, Sílthéy. And I promise I will get to as much as possible. If you're worried, check the titles of all of the chapters, which will hopefully reassure you that, yes, I will get to everything (or at least everything I've thought of ;)).
Dramatis Personae:
Star: Star will mostly stay the same in the first few seasons, but I'll try to have her actually grow and mature while staying a good person in the later seasons. She'll also be a bit more fire-aligned, because I wanted to be able to tell my Star and the canon Star apart easily. (She also doesn't get those wings until Mewberty.)
Marcie: is a trans girl. The entire second "episode" will be about her being trans. And I will, again, try to not have her act like a jerk in later seasons. She also won't be an adult trapped in a teenager's body, as that was waaay too weird for me. Instead she won't age in the Neverzone, period, and there will be an episode dedicated to her re-adjusting to Earth and discussing what the whole "spent a decade and a half in eight minutes" thing means for her. And, of course, she'll be more involved with the Mewni plot, as she will be interested in learning the lore behind Mewni from the beginning and push Star to find out more about Mewni.
Ludo: Ludo's story will not effectively end with the Battle for Mewni. He will get a redemption arc, with all the pitfalls and trip-ups that come with that. And all of his flaws and issues will be brought up, now just forgiving him for everything he did because he had bad parents. And Dennis will continue to be a cinnamon roll. Some things never change.
Buff Frog/Yvgeny: will not change. He is good lad.
Toffee: This is the big one. Where to start, and how to start it without spoiling everything I have planned? Well, let me tell you this: Toffee is getting a complete overhaul. For one thing, I now made them agender for various complicated reasons that will be revealed in-story, eventually. And for another thing, they will get an actual backstory and personality! Isn't that a novel idea! And they will not die abruptly and nonsensically in Battle for Mewni, so don't worry about that.
Jackie: Oh, Jackie. You poor dear. Jackie will not be delegated to the role of "one-time love interest who just skateboards out of the plot". First of all, Marcie will only have a squish (a platonic crush) on her, because I don't trust my aro/ace self with the weird things people in romantic love do to get together, but I do know what it's like to desperately want to be friends with someone. Secondly, while she will be out of the spotlight in later seasons, it'll be because she's on an exchange trip to France, not because we're abandoning her character and her world for no good reason.
Janna: never changes. Pretty sure she's the one constant of the multiverse.
Tom: will have his redemption arc earlier in the story so I can use him for things, but other than that will not change much.
Moon: First of all, she will not betray everything her daughter stands for by siding with Mina this time. There are plenty of other ways Mina could rise to power, so there's no need to ruin her character by making her do a stupid, illogical thing that even a five-year-old would see was stupid. I mean, she's still going to be kind of racist, but she's well-established to be level-headed and even a little clever, so she will not do something that would so obviously blow up in her face. Secondly, she will be a bad ruler, hence why Mewni is a total mess, but she will learn and become better and help Star's efforts to improve Mewni.
Glossaryck: is... changing. He won't "lose" his sanity for season three, but he will also not be in a totally heroic role. It's a complicated thing and a bit of a spoiler, so I'll leave it at that. Also, he's a dragon now Because Reasons (no, seriously, I have a reason for it. It's also a spoiler).
River: River will be goofy, like usual, but he won't be plot-destroyingly stupid. I'll try my best to not make you question why he's even king while still making him a foil to Moon. It's the tightrope I must walk.
Angie and Raphael: Will not completely disappear from the plot in later seasons, but will instead be like a second family to Star and will be a refuge when her overbearing Butterfly side gets too much.
Kelly: Will not be involved in a stupid romantic subplot with Marcie. Sorry. Other than that, Kelly will remain pretty much the same, aside from now being tiny, because that's just how she came out in my art. She's pretty cool.
Miss Heinous: Will not be Meteora this time around. I disliked how Heinous hurt so many people and was a horrible person, but as soon as her Tragic Backstory™ was revealed, all that pain and suffering she caused was ignored in favor of making her Super Duper Tragic™. So I'm separating the characters. Don't worry, though, she'll get the backstory and character arc she deserves.
Saint Olga: Saint Olga will be the main motivator for Miss Heinous's actions, as she is desperate to please the robot. Other than that, Saint Olga won't actually get much character. She's a bad guy, pure and simple.
Meteora: will not turn into a baby. She will deal with the consequences of her actions like a mature, responsible sixteen-year-old. But because she's sixteen, things won't be too harsh when she does snap. She'll still have her mother and father to help her and guide her.
Eclipsa: Regarding Eclipsa's design, I tried to make her fat, but... I don't know if it translates well in my art. I'm just not that good at art yet. But aside from that, making her cheekmarks dark gray (spades are a black card, not a red card! That bugged me so unreasonably much), and giving her as much of a connection to Toffee as the show implied, I'm not changing much about her. She was one of the good characters.
Globgor: Will have fought against mewmans in the past, but not have eaten them (what were the writers thinking?! Making your metaphorical poc eat people is... not good). And it will be more of a case of Star and Eclipsa knowing he is good and should be released from the crystal, but the general mewman populace not accepting it, until Cornonation, where he proves he's a good guy.
Shinjai: Is a new character I am thrilled to introduce to you all! She came from me thinking that for someone who supposedly wants to end mewman-monster racism, Star sure doesn't have any monster friends (Buff Frog doesn't count. He's an adult, and they don't really hang out so much). So here's Shinjai! She's a septarian, and is introduced instead of Princess Smooshy in Sleep Spells. She's a very minor minor monster noble, and her family has about as much political power as your average worm on a sidewalk after it rains, but all noble monsters must go to Saint Olga's Reform School for Wayward Royalty, so she runs away and gets help from Star and Marcie. She's mostly made to replace Pony Head: she's spunky and... uh, actually she's nothing like Pony Head. She's also unafraid of asking difficult questions and knows more about the plot than she lets on.
Rasticore: is very different from his canon counterpart: he only allies with Heinous and Saint Olga to keep an eye on them for ~someone~, and thoroughly dislikes them, despite agreeing to their mission. He also can regenerate as quickly as Toffee, he just chooses not to for ~reasons~. He also has a mysterious partner, but we all know it's – *gets clubbed over the head by Síthéy*
Mina: Making fun of mental illnesses isn't funny kids. Therefore, Mina is the only neurotypical member of the cast. She does boring neurotypical things like... I dunno, cleaning? And she's still a threat: bigotry and hatred are not exclusive to people with mental illnesses, after all.
Lilacia: Now, Lilacia Pegasus, the horse formerly known as Pony Head, will... exist. She won't be as overwhelmingly annoying, hopefully, as she is in canon. And to make sure she feels consequences for her actions, there will be a subplot in season two about her and Star growing apart as Star grows and leaves Lilacia's annoying party girl antics behind. Lilacia will have to realize that her immature actions are making Star leave her behind, and she'll have to grow as a person because of it.
Then there's a mysterious character who is very mysterious and does mysterious things and has a mysterious personality and is generally mysterious... mysterious. She'll be introduced in the second season and will be as mysterious as promised, I swear.
And finally, of course, it will be narrated by Sílthéy. She will tell this story, and her part in it, for all to hear. Or read? It's a bit of a strange medium, storytelling on paper. Or on a screen, whatever.
Now, of course, by now you must be wondering: What about the shipping? The shipping's the most important part, right? Well, here is my answer: There will be no ship wars. There will be no love dodecahedrons. There will be no cheating, no lies, no throwing other characters under the bus for stupid romantic drama. Why? BECAUSE STAR AND MARCIE ARE BOTH ARO/ACE. Suck on that, Starco! I am the last person to trust romantic drama with, so all of the romantic relationships in this bandwagon will be established, healthy relationships that have decades of chosen love and appreciation for one another behind them. And past!Tomstar and brief, schoolchild-crush-esque Star/Oskar but that doesn't count.
So, I believe that about wraps things up for this post. I'll start posting chapters soon, and will post two chapters every other week, and I'll release the descriptions of them two weeks before I post them. If you have any questions, please ask them! I want to work on my drawing skills, so I might even draw something for them!
Description for next episodes:
Star's Birthday: Star is a young, wild princess who is about to receive her family's most precious heirlooms.
Trouble in Diazland: Star is put under the care of the Diaz family, but can't quite seem to connect with their son, Marco.
And, finally, I have thank yous! These are mostly people I watched but haven't really interacted with yet, so if you get tagged know that you don't know me, I just followed you for svtfoe content. And for, you know, your personality.
Thanks to ankle-beez for being hilarious and reminding me why I made this AU when you relentlessly drag svtfoe. Thank you to @full-moon-phoenix, @dappercritter, and the lizard squad for my regular dose of Toffee. Thank you morningmark and @jess-the-vampire for keeping me invested in svtfoe as a whole. Thanks to svtfoe-critical and @twinklecupcake for good ideas. Thank you to TBlofeld on AO3 for your amazing AU, Monsters, Mewmans, Magic, that, while we took things and ran in completely opposite directions, still inspired me to complete mine. And thank you to Blue Order, whose deeply hilarious and deeply accurate video "How Star Vs the Forces of Evil Fell From Grace" inspired me to create this story in the first place. And, of course, thank you to whoever on the svtfoe wiki writes down the transcripts to every episode. You've helped me so much. I admit that I didn't follow all of your guys' advice, but you did help me get here, every one of you. So thank you.
#svtfoe#svtfoe critical#svtfoe negativity#svtfoe salt#star vs the forces of evil#star butterfly#marco diaz#marcie diaz#ludo avarius#buff frog#toffee#toffee of septarsis#jackie lynn thomas#janna ordonia#tom lucitor#moon butterfly#glossaryck#river butterfly#angie diaz#rafael diaz#kelly#miss heinous#saint olga#meteora butterfly#eclipsa butterfly#globgor#rasticore#rasticore chaosus disastorvayne#mina loveberry#pony head
64 notes
·
View notes
Text
Remembering My Early Training
I feel really quite fortunate to have stumbled into classical martial arts when I was a kid. As opposed to the more generic and significantly less exciting forms of kick-punch arts out there, my experience of Ryukyu Kempo was infinitely more colorful and arguably deep, if not at times in unintended and unexpected ways.
The first several weeks of training in Ryukyu Kempo consisted of wearing normal clothes to a class of black (yes black) dogi clad students practicing an array of empty handed kata, alongside kobujutsu, and distinct grappling maneuvers called tuite. I, however (like most new students at the time) was slated to make my way to the edge of the training area to watch class, and more importantly, to make friends with “Mr. Suburito.”
A suburito is an extra large, weighted wooden training sword. Despite its already bulky nature, the more senior students of the school would bore out holes along the blade of the veritable branch and fill them with lead for extra difficulty. My adult-sized, but not otherwise modified “Mr. Suburito” was quite enough for me to handle in awkwardly learning how to carry and draw him, so as to perform a great many downward, centerline cuts subsequently. I mean wooden swords are cool and all, but it was admittedly a little curious way to begin training in what I expected to be generically open handed karate art. Fast forward 20+ years later and I’m still discovering the nuance of that particular exercise in reference to my open handed skill set (including both striking and grappling) and my practice of kobujutsu at large.
After a few weeks of learning to relate to Mr. Suburito, I was introduced to Naihanchi Shodan as my first kata (solo exercise), rather than a taikyoku or kihon (typically low block and middle punch) manner of pattern.
The instruction given for the seemingly arcane Naihanchi kata was that the interestingly venerated Master Choki Motobu famously noted it was the only thing needed to gain a complete knowledge of karate. Beyond that, according to the Guiding Principles of our school “in the past a single master studied a single Kata for more than ten years…” and that if we just wholeheartedly threw ourselves into the practice of the kata (which follows a single horizontal, line enbusen [floor pattern] that sees the student moving left and right in a side-oriented kiba dachi [horse stance], while performing 27 duplicated movements at the left, right and center of the body, including two seeming ritualized double handed “salutes”) we would be well on our way to becoming truly skilled and wise practitioners of the art.
All of these things about the Naihanchi Kata were of course true, and after quite literally hundreds of thousands of repetitions of that particular 27-movement form over the course of more than two decades, I still cannot pretend to fully grok the contents and blueprints contained within that one archetypal form. Nonetheless, the unspoken fact was too that Mr. Suburito and the arcane Naihanchi Kata (despite the realities of the respective, intentionally subtle and skillful physical conditioning technologies contained within them) were really about slowly introducing a potential new member of the dojo into the actual training methods of the style and school without revealing anything too obviously dangerous, should the new recruit to prove to not be of the “good moral character” demanded by the Dojo Kun. Should that be the case, and should such a recruit find themselves to have worn out their welcome, the public was nominally protected, and the secrets of the school were further safeguarded by those deemed trustworthy enough to receive them. To return again to an examination of the Guiding Principles “the eagle with the sharpest talons hides them.”
As you can imagine, the onboarding process was a little more lengthy than that at a typical karate school. I recall distinctly having to memorize and be able to recite on command the five statements of the Dojo Kun (school code) and the ten paragraphs comprising the Guiding Principles (about a typed page and a half combined) before being able to progress beyond Mr. Suburito’s lone company.
After Naihanchi Shodan was sufficiently committed to mental and physical memory, and an exercise or two beyond simple striking sets with Mr. Suburito, two more similarly single, horizontal line enbusen comprised Naihanchi Kata (Nidan and Sandan) would follow, before I (the student) would actually be introduced to anything clearly resembling combat in posture, gesture, or movement in the truly unique “Tomari” Seisan (which is in fact a rather intricate white crane form, as opposed to most other forms sharing its name). For me this took about a year (without receiving or testing for a single belt rank along the way; curiously even the black belts didn’t wear rank belts, only a unique form of pantaloons called nobakhama, with but a couple of students who had here-and-there tested for a colored belt donning one).
However, it’s notable that within three or so weeks I (who hadn’t been yet taught how to do a simple block or strike in the manner of the system) would suddenly find myself introduced to the chizikun bo, a type of paired koppo (6” sticks with leather finger loops drilled through their centers, used as weapons, which are placed over the middle fingers of both hands). As it turns out a 7th Dan Kyoshi (Master) of the art would be teaching a rare form for the weapon at an even rarer full weekend training camp alongside a river at a distant and rural campsite.
You see, Kyoshi was always on the verge or “retiring,” and taking his still undivulged body of genuinely unique knowledge with him. Kyoshi never could quite get a successful dojo up and running himself (in fact the dojo was quite transient and moved or closed at least once a year) but nonetheless he (due to a mixture of actual skill and cowboy charisma) kept a pretty dedicated band of students within his orbit.
Whenever Kyoshi was strapped for cash a special training called a “Spirit Class” (a four+ hour day of Mr. Suburito and Naihanchi-esque kiba dachi chudan tsuki [horse stance middle punches]) could be scheduled for a nominal fee, inclusive of a custom screen printed t-shirt. If the bank was really coming to task though, a new, and somehow legitimately rare kobujutsu kata could be transmitted, replete with a custom printed t-shirt (for one low price) over the course of a weekend, and all hands were to be on deck. At no extra cost came the knowledge that if you open the advanced chizi kata the wrong way it “looks like you guys are trying to tear your peckers off” (LMAO, seriously) and that if you want to shower at a rural campsite you should stop and get quarters first, and that when you stop and get quarters first you should make sure that the item you’re buying to break cash into change with costs an appropriate amount so as to retrieve quarters in change. Twelve and thirteen year olds have to learn this stuff sometime! 😉
At this point I feel it worthwhile to note that Kyoshi did eventually retire and move out of state and out of touch, with some yet untaught and authentically rare and valuable skills in tow. I still practice that kata, or what I think I was taught at the time, and I’ve met very few people that know the “advanced chizi kata.”
Picking back up in week five of my training (and far beyond) Naihanchi Nidan and Sandan were gradually learned, and suddenly I had been indoctrinated and inducted properly into the tradition. By then I practiced my kata and exercises single mindedly while lusting over a copy of the Grandmaster’s newly self-published textbook. The textbook was sold only by a single school in his association for what was then (and now, but then especially) a very steep price of $65 (and a far cry from the $15 cost of his senior student’s very useful introductory manual sold in the same venue).
Speaking of those students and that venue, it was around this time that I recall that I began to realize that our faction of the art was no longer in the good graces of the Grandmaster’s association, and that there existed some really bad juju between the two camps. But regardless, we were all agreed that we were far superior to, and would not associate ourselves with, the third group of people accused of having stolen some of the secrets of the Grandmaster’s art at a few generous public seminars.
But I digress. For us, our “classical” system (as opposed to “traditional,” or the even more anathema “modern” styles) of karate was supreme (and admittedly the older I get the more my bias does swing that way among Japanese and Okinawan striking arts). Labeled sell-outs like Gichen Funakoshi of Shotokan fame were but “shamisen players with silver tongues who only ever learned the outside of karate” (or so said that curious younger Master Motobu again…the older Master Motobu was quite more refined in manners and skill). In short, if you wanted to real deal, you had to come to us.
My early life experience in Ryukyu Kempo introduced me to some of the most wonderful and valued friends and mentors in my life who I have been blessed to have cherished relationships with for decades now. Too, it broke (early on, in life and in training) many of my romantic conceptions of humanity, while also providing me an all but stereotypicalized idyllic training milieu. I really couldn’t have had it better anywhere else.
~Sunyananda
1 note
·
View note
Text
It’s Always Been You - Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Language
Theme: Fluff, Pining, Semi-Angst
Summary: Being the youngest princess in a wealthy kingdom definitely has its ups and downs, especially when your father is trying to court you away to some wealthy prince.
Word Count: 2.2k
A/N: This was made for @bucky-smiles Secret Santa Writing Challenge, and I wrote this for the lovely @delicatelyherdreams. I really do hope that you enjoy this, even with its late arrival. I feel as though this story went in a million different ways, but I tried to do you justice. I also hope you enjoy my very creative way of coming up with kingdoms. (no sarcasm here)
You sat upright on your mattress, eyes closed, and knees tucked underneath you, a faint smile gracing your lips. The air of your bedroom peaceful, quiet minus the soft sound of your record player playing in the background, calm and serene.
Rarely if ever, you had moments like these to yourself. Periods where you can just relax and not have to help your family tend the Kingdom.
Where you could simply pop open a book, wear more comfortable clothes, do nothing, go out, and not have Barnes check up on your every move. Well, you could let that last one slide.
For the last 19 years, your existence has been claimed by your family’s royal history. From the first day of your life, you were titled as one thing and one thing only.
Y/N Y/L/N, Princess of Starkonia.
You were to be polite, flexible, and accepting of those around you, you had to be presentable and prepared at your father’s beck and call. You needed to be present during ceremonies, and get prepared for what seemed to be your most significant task, marriage.
Even the mention of the word tasted bitter on your tongue, the prospect of being wedded to a man you barely knew was revolting. Yet, just like your sisters did before you, you too would have to get married at some point.
Savannah was first, marrying some big wig from a neighboring country. Juliet was next, getting married at only nineteen to one of the richest princes from Rogeria. Shortly after followed Hannah, who conveniently married Juliet’s husband’s brother.
Growing up, marriage was all your sisters could talk about. Often dreaming of what they would wear on their wedding day, or how they would soon one day become queen, conjuring up the royal subjects that they would lead and inspire over.
You would listen, of course, with an eager grin, but whenever they would ask for your input, you’d often draw a blank. Even during your early teenage years, you couldn’t really imagine your future starting off with marriage. Which, of course, was unusual regarding your sister’s childhood, so you often became alienated from discussions.
So you found refuge in the likes of one of your father’s young knights, James Buchanan Barnes. Or Bucky to you and you only. Despite his dedication and serious attitude to his job, you’d often find time to sweep him away.
The two of you frequently met in secret within the palace’s gigantic library, reading side by side, eating stolen pastries from the boisterous and clattering kitchen.
Underneath the full bookshelves of the library was where the two of you let your guard’s down. Both of you share secrets that you’d tell no one else, read books from the tallest shelves, and chatter on about the latest palace gossip.
The library was where you learned that Bucky was an aspiring writer, but became a knight to make a living and impress his father. He was thoughtful, quiet, but also quite humorous, always seeming to tickle you with his quips and comments.
In response, you shared your distaste of marriage and how you desired a more straightforward career that didn’t require so much attention. Instead of being judgmental and critical of your complaints, Bucky, to your delight, welcomed them with considerate eyes, and a listening ear.
Bucky made your days meaningful, always giving you something to look forward to, an escape if you will. So when your father, unbeknownst to your growing duo, made Bucky be your personal guard, the two of you were ecstatic.
Of course, you knew the reasoning behind this, your father valued your safety, being the youngest of your family meant that you were the last to be scooped up. Given your family’s rich lineage, courting, you would be a satisfying compromise for growing countries and their princes.
Bucky would often find himself falling subject to your long, and constant complaints about your potential suitors.
Nobody ever seemed to meet your fancy. Thor of Asgard was too self-absorbed, Bruce of Bannaria was too quirky, or worst of all, Samuel of Willaria was way to forthcoming.
Oh, how they all gave you quite a headache!
You could tell that your father was becoming quite frustrated with your lack of progress. Day by day would pass with to no avail, you’d always find some way to shoot each of them down.
Dinner’s would be filled with short tempers and argumentative quips that’d send you to sleep angry and exhausted. Unless you found a suitor that satisfied your father over yourself, then you could make him proud.
Yet through thick and thin, Bucky remained a constant in your life, even if he technically had to be. The two of you would often explore the little village outside of the palace. Complete with bustling vendors within the local farmer’s market that sold ripened fruit, pastries, linens, and fresh honey from the town’s apiaries.
You always found joy in seeing the many vendors that always greet you with a smile. Or seeing the kids that would run around trying not to trip over themselves to see the royal horses. Days like these were your escape as they were Bucky’s who could always be found in the town’s small bookstore.
Days where you don't have to prove yourself to anyone or focus on whomever you were going to marry. These days were your favorite, like this one, in particular, your mother and father out for a gathering with a neighboring kingdom.
Despite the flurry of servants and staff that resided in the palace, you were technically by yourself for the day. That was until you hear a knock on your door, open your eyes, and swing your legs forward to stand up from your bed.
“Come in!” you called out before rushing over to lower the sound on your record player.
The door opened with a swing and in stormed Bucky with a sour disposition, a scowl planted firmly on his lips. You gaped wide-eyed at the sight in front of you, never had you seen Bucky so angry.
“What’s wrong?” you asked quickly, watching as he simply paced your room, ignoring you.
That is until he stopped abruptly before focusing his gaze onto you, his shoulders sagging almost immediately. He stood in his uniform minus the exception of his gloves, his metal fingers reflecting in the light that streamed through your window.
“My father,” he huffed, gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes tightly, “My father found my novel and went fucking ballistic.” he seethed.
Concern flooding your senses, you move forward to comfort him but ultimately decided against it, taking a step back to give him some space. Bucky’s father had always been tough on him, especially after the loss of Bucky’s mother.
Bucky, more often than not, had to take control of the house to protect himself and his little sisters while his father went out and got drunk at the local taverns. Hence why he had this job in the first place, ultimately crushing any dreams that Bucky had for writing.
“How could I be so stupid? I shouldn’t have left it in plain sight! Or, more specifically, a place where I should’ve known that Rebecca would’ve found it!” he exclaimed, cursing himself quietly, eyes widened like saucers.
“Bucky, you aren’t stupid, and there was no way you could’ve known that she would’ve found it,” you replied quietly, catching his gaze just for a second before he focused it elsewhere.
He exhaled heavily clamping his eyes shut, despite the way he held himself up, you could still see the slight tremble between his legs.
“I’m sorry that your father reacted the way he did. Buck, you don’t deserve that kind of treatment from your father.” you continued on before sitting down on the bed, his eyes opening warily at the sound of you falling against the cushions.
He watched you sit momentarily before joining you without a second thought, his much taller figure slumping onto the bed, before resting his head against yours.
You grew rigid at his touch, trying to fight the pounding in your heart that seemed to echo painstakingly loud in your chest. His arms snaking their way around to your side before he let out a shaking sigh, his metal armor cool to the touch on your skin.
Why do you feel so sweaty all of a sudden? You two had never been this close before, so why does this feel oddly comfortable? Is that cologne? Bucky smells..nice.
“Thank you.” he murmured ever so quietly so only you could hear.
“Anytime Buck, anytime.” you exhale promising yourself that you’d hold him as long as he deemed necessary.
-
One Week Later
“Come on, sister! Is there really nobody that you fancy nowadays?” Savannah, your oldest sister, exclaimed one evening as the two of you caught up as of your monthly tradition. Her eyes all giddy, hands on her hips in a way too over dramatic manner.
You frowned at the comment presented in front of you, of course, you did not ‘fancy’ any of the young princes offered to you. Yet, there did appear to be someone who did cross your mind more than often nowadays.
Bucky.
No, that didn’t mean you fancied him. Of course not, Bucky was … well, Bucky. He was your best friend, best friends don’t date. Princesses most certainly don’t marry knights either that was just fairy tale nonsense. Father would never approve either.
“Well?” Savannah quipped, her body tilting as she shifted all of her weight onto one foot.
You swallowed sheepishly, glancing down at your feet, flinching at the excited squeal that your sister let out as the realization sunk in.
“Oh my gosh! Y/N! Tell me everything? Who is he? Is he cute? Oh, tell me he’s cute!?” Savannah cried out, nearly tripping over her dress to pull you into a bone-crushing hug.
“Savannah!” you gasped, squirming your way out of her hold, looking at her all bewildered.
“Sorry, It’s just, my baby sister finally found someone,” she replied before taking a seat on your bed, looking at you expectantly.
“Okay, well, for starters, I don’t even know if I like him. I’m friends with him, but he’s just been very touchy lately,” you admit before plopping down beside her lying down on your bed.
“Define touchy,” she questioned while following your actions, her hair now brushing up against yours.
You glanced at her perplexed, the two-year history between you and Bucky swirling around in your mind. Why now? Why were you questioning it now?
“I don’t know, he’s just been a lot closer than he used to be.” you murmur as you rub your face in frustration.
“Don’t tell me this is that young knight that always follows you around like a lovesick puppy?” Savannah exclaimed as she sat upright, looking at you wide-eyed.
“He does not!” you retort back.
“Oh, it so is! You have to tell him!” her voice reaching a pitch that you didn’t think was possible.
“I don’t think I could even stomach that, what if he rejects me?” you sigh, sitting upright only to notice your bedroom cracked open slightly ajar.
“I’m sorry, is this a wrong time?” a voice calls out as the door pushes forward to reveal Bucky.
You have the hold back the gasp that threatened to escape your lips. Bucky catches your gaze, noting the tension in the air between you three before adjusting it onto your sister, who was just as surprised as you.
“I’m guessing this is the wrong time,” Bucky stammers awkwardly before turning around to go.
“Wait!” you cry out, causing him to turn back around, eyeing you curiously.
“I, I need to talk to you about something,” you stammer anxiety pricking at your skin. You felt hot and heavy, the bed dipping as Savannah slipped out the door.
Bucky letting the door close behind him, before walking over to sit beside you on the bed, just as you did for him not so very long ago. He looked at you with an expression that you couldn’t quite decipher, his eyes searching yours for what you were saying.
“You know I don’t know why it hasn’t hit me sooner,” you start trying to hide the shakiness of your words.
“No one ever seemed right, or just worth my time, not even if my parent’s approval was on the line.” he nods to himself slightly at that, chuckling softly.
“I’d be so disappointed with myself, and then I would turn around, and you would be there. Bucky, you have always been there for me,” you admit swallowing before mustering up the courage to meet his eyes.
“It’s been you, Buck, it’s always been you. You are the one I want, I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.” the words fall from your lips, and just like that, it’s as if time stops for just a second.
The room that felt heavy and thick with hesitation or the anxiety that clung to your skin evaporated. All you could see was Bucky and the soft smile that complimented his features. The way his hand slipped into yours, the way he didn’t look away from you as he inched closer.
The way his hand caressed your check sending shivers down your spine, or the way he kissed you with a longing that had never felt so good. Who knew someone could taste so good, or smell so good.
It was perfect, it was long overdue, and it was brand new all at once. And you couldn’t wait to see where it takes you next.
#cmmsecretsanta#@broadwayandnetflix#2019#bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#marvel#bucky barnes x reader#fluff#pining#fanfiction#@delicatelyherdreams#marvel x reader#royal au
91 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bits of Uraichi event I never actually got to finish
Cuz it takes me like five years to legit finish anything... u.u. Dedicated to @cywscross because it’s her fault I ship Uraichi
Day 1: Time loop/dimension travel/time travel/cannon divergence
It's been years since Karakura Town looked so peaceful... so unravaged by war. Ichigo traces the paths and alleys with his eyes, lost in his own memories. A black cat trots over to him and smells his hand curiously. He opens his palms wide, and nods regally. The cat's tail twitched in greeting, and it trotted off.
Well, he figured that someone will find him, sooner or later, Ichigo mused. It has been three years since the end of the Quincy War, and for once things seemed to settle down. Shinigami, humans, arrancars alike mourned their losses and moved on with their lives.
All, except Ichigo. He had a thing with Inoue for a while- they bonded over the war- but it was never quite meant to last. He has known of her crush since their high school days; he's not stupid. Time and a couple of wars isn't going to change his feelings- or the lack thereof. To her credit, she wasn't as heartbroken as Ichigo imagined, when he called it quits with her. They gave the relationship an honest effort, and it didn't work out. There wasn't much else to say about it.
In the dark corners of his mind, Zangetsu reminded him that the one he's looking for isn't Inoue. Has never been Inoue to begin with. Ichigo agrees, because he's learned long ago to be honest with himself. Those first few months after the war, he waited outside the Shoten, for that one day when Urahara would make his way back to Karakura Town, late and probably with some lame excuse. He waited, day after day. The Shoten remained closed.
The day after his breakup with Inoue, he opened the Shoten door for the first time; he was surprised that he didn't get zapped to next week by whatever kidou barriers Tessai has up, but he won't look a gift horse in the mouth. The inside was dusty, as he expected; it was as if the store waited on baited breath for its owner to come back. Ichigo dusted off the nearest shelf and grimaced. I've got a lot of work to do, he thinks to himself.
He doesn't know why he's cleaning the Shoten from top to bottom; he doesn't have anything better to do, he supposes. Yuzu and Karin understands; they didn't know Urahara for as long as Ichigo had, but they understand that need to mourn, and everyone has their own way. They leave him alone; Ichigo's grateful for it.
Somewhere in the trash pile that is Urahara's stack of rejected invention designs, is a particularly odd looking Senkaimon. To be honest, the teen almost tossed the design away, but the old shopkeeper's chickenscratch handwriting caught his eye. "Dimension travel", Ichigo squinted. The words were written next to a bunch of cubed linked together with squiggly lines. Ichigo set that particular design aside.
It took him a little over two years to finish the design, and even then he was half sure that it would blow up in his face. Ruefully, he thinks that Urahara would have finished it in two days if he really put his mind to it. But nonetheless; Ichigo's no genius- it's half a miracle that the invention worked at all. Standing in front of the Senkaimon, Ichigo took a fortifying breath and stepped through. --
The first thing he needs to do, Ichigo thinks, is get help. All he has right now is knowledge of a possible future that hasn't happened yet, and that knowledge won't do anyone any good in his hands alone. What he needs, is a schemer. And a schemer he'll get.
"Yo, Geta boushi", Ichigo waved towards the green and white stripped hat making its way up the roof. He could feel a warm curl of relief-oh-thank-god at seeing that ridiculous getup again. They hadn't even managed to bring back that much from the Soul King's palace, Ichigo thinks bitterly.
"My, my," with a well practiced gesture, the paper fan snapped open. A pair of assessing grey eyes peered from under the brim of the bucket hat. Well used to the shopkeeper's particular brand of paranoia, Ichigo stayed still, curious about the kind of conclusions Urahara will come to.
Exactly one minute and twenty seconds later- "Dimension travel or time travel?" Urahara asks.
Ichigo snorts. Of course he would figure it out- he's freaking Urahara. If someone could, it would be him. "Dimension," he replies.
"I would presume the other me sent you back?" the shopkeeper asks, a spark of intrigue carefully hidden. But Ichigo knows- can tell by the way his eyes moved- that Urahara was indeed, curious.
"Well, it's certainly your fault," Ichigo agreed. He wasn't about to tell the current incarnation that the future him didn't make the war- at least he won't tell the guy now. He would, but all he needs is a chance- he knows that Urahara is unlikely to dissect him up into little bits, not before he gets every ounce of information out of him- but what he really needs is that relationship they once had... the one built on trust. He needs that trust if he is to save the world, this time around.
Instead, Ichigo tossed him a crumpled up ball of paper- the hastily sketched and discarded design that once laid in the trash pile of a forgotten lab.
The current version tilted his head and caught the paper ball easily. A skip- a beat- and then he folded the paper neatly into quadrants. "It seems that you have travelled a long way- perhaps you would care for some tea and sweets?"
Ichigo let go of a breath he didn't know he was holding. And the chance has been given.
================
Day 2: (Different) First Meetings, established relationship
At first, he wasn't sure what to make of the stranger perched on his roof. Very few people bother him these days- with the Vizards safe in seclusion, Isshin living happily with his wife and newborn son, the Soutaicho turning a blind eye to his activities in the Transient World... there wasn't much excitement these days.
Of course, he has the company of his nightmares to keep him on his toes (a reminder that the future is never certain, that his mistakes can and will come to haunt him).
Thus, it was with a fair bit of surprise that he feels a miniature sun bypass his wards and land on his candystore's roof. How odd; it is enough to draw him out of his labs. He bumps into Tessai and Yoruichi near the store entrance. Presumably, they also felt the disturbance.
"I'll go and take a look," Yoruichi volunteered. It's never not unnerving to hear her cat form speak, for all feline vocal cords were never meant for human language.
He dipped his head in thanks, and the black cat slipped out of the store soundlessly. He didn't have to wait long; within minutes, Yoruichi was back. Seamlessly, she transformed back.
"It's a teenager with bright orange hair in shinigami garb, armed with a zanpakuto, non hostile" She frowned for a second more, "whoever he is, he looks Shiba. He knows who I am," she adds. =================
234 notes
·
View notes
Text
Group Ask 158
What is a group ask?
Previous Group Asks
AO3 Search Tutorial
Please send us an ask stating which group ask and which person you are replying to. Thank you so much in advance!
Anon 1 said:
i thought i found this one shot in your married tag but i couldnt find it again when i looked :( basically steve and bucky get married when theyre kids and everything still happens and steve tells everyone hes married and bucky gets sad that steve got married and that hedidnt even tell him and he remembers marrying steve when they were little and then steve tells bucky its him that hes married to thank you if you can find it!!!
Anon sent in Best friends and married since childhood by StuckySituation (oneshot | 1,141 | G)
lindsey-of-north sent in Let this be light work by caughtinanocean (oneshot | 8,628 | T)
Anon 2 said:
Hi, I am having trouble finding a fic where Bucky comes home from a bad mission (people died), rims Steve and fucks him against the sink. I’ve been looking for it for a while, it’s relatively short and afterwards Steve reassures him that he can’t save everyone. Thanks
do-and-hope said:
Hi, I'm looking for a fic where Bucky leaves the Tower to go get coffee, gets hit on by a guy at the shop, and ends up asking the Avengers (sand Steve) if sexually hitting on people is how one gets dates now and do they have advice on dating. I remember his more subtle attempts at using the Avengers' advice don't work (Steve doesn't like coffee) and some of them just straight up tell Bucky to make sexual overtures like random coffeeshop dude.
Anon sent in Learn How To Bend by nerdwegian (oneshot | 6,405 | E)
Anon 3 said:
Hi do you guys know the name of the fic where Steve and Bucky are neighbors and don’t like each other at first? I remember Natasha was the landlord and Steve smoked medical marijuana. Thanks!
hellaqueerangelofthelord said:
Hi! There was a fic I read a while ago that seemingly has vanished from the interwebs :( The basic premise was a stucky x reader fic where the reader faked her death and the boys found her again. A few specific details I remember: the chapter names were all colors (I think one was peach and another was lime green), and the reader had been pregnant and then lost the baby prior to the beginning of the story, she was also a scientist with a background secret from the boys
lesbianhozier said:
hey! i’m looking for a crack-y fic set during catws where bucky keeps trying to lean in and kiss steve mid-fight. bucky doesn’t really know what’s going on, steve doesn’t know that he’s the winter soldier is bucky yet, and natasha can’t figure out what kind of fighting technique bucky is trying to pull off when he does it. thank you so much!!
Anon 4 said:
hey could you help me find the fic where its modern bucky and cap steve and bucky is at the bar with the howlies and steve is with the avengers and the howlies dare bucky (who is drunk) to go ask steve for a piggy back ride. steve has a moment of discomfort that someone comes up to him but likes that bucky respects his space even though he's drunk. i think he ends up piggy backing bucky home jsdkjhdk it was really cute
princessniitza sent in Save a Horse, Ride a Captain by galwednesday (oneshot | 2,708 | T)
Anon 5 said:
hi! i'm so desperate to find this fic and i'm not sure if i've sent this ask in before but if i have i apologise! it's one where bucky worked for pierce (some sort of legal profession). pierce owned an apartment building which nat + steve lived in and they used one of the rooms as a ballet studio. bucky was told that he had to to shut it down. bucky obviously falls in love with steve and they get into a fight bc bucky's unhappy w his job but won't quit (for becca). it had a happy ending!!
Anon 6 said:
I was hoping you might be able to help me find a Shrunkyclunks fic where Bucky is a musician who is performing in a bar when Steve walks in. I'm pretty sure Bucky is singing Jackie & Wilson by Hozier and he only has one arm, which Steve only notices after a while because he's so captivated by Bucky's performance. Does anyone happen to know which fic this is? Thank you!
ekeshet sent in His Arms Held All the Songs I Needed by The_She_Devil (oneshot | 40,181 | E)
ummvengers said:
hey I was wondering if you could help me find a fic. It's a highschool au and steve and bucky hate each other and i think tony makes a time travel machine and steve and bucky get sent to the future? They find out that in the future bucky loses his arm and steve gets big (in hs he was small) and they're married in the future and they have to figure out how to get back to the present.
lindsey-of-north sent in It’s All Tony’s Fault by Anxiety_Baker02 (complete | 38,245 | T)
atgirlstwobirds said:
Hi there! I was wondering if anyone knew of a preWW2 get together fic where Bucky asks relationship/sex advice from a gay guy he knows at the docks, maybe called Jack? It might’ve been called something like the sexuality crisis of 1930 but I might be getting two separate fics confused. Any help would be great!!
princessniitza sent in Bei Mir Bist Du Schoen by Laura JV (jacquez) (oneshot | 7,533 | E) - bucky/ofc
Anon 7 said:
I'm looking for two fics about Steve and Bucky but can't remember the titles! One is an modern AU where Steve is a comic book writer and Bucky is a vet with PTSD that moves downstairs. The second an AU set in the last where Steve draws naughty cartoons for money and he meets Bucky who lost his arm in the war. They move in together as roommates and slowly fall for one another.
therandomravenclw sent in To Be Vulnerable Is Needed Most Of All by perfect_plan (complete | 118,363 | M)
miraishu sent in Through The Open Window by 74days (complete | 28,661 | E)
mischiefs-hawk said:
Hi, looking for a fic for a friend. It's modern-setting, with Peter as Steve's son. Bruce is the science teacher at Peter's school. Hope you can help!
Anon 8 said:
Um, hi? I really appreciate what you guys do, and want to say thanks for that. Ummm, I've been looking for this fic, and can't find it anywhere! It's about how the serum has... Unexpected side effects and it makes Steve really horny??? He tries to hide it, and when Bucky finds out, he's 'angry'. Uhhh, it's really good and I want to reread it. THANKS! (If you don't find it, don't worry about it, have a good day!) ((sorry if I was to vague))
dolphinqueen10 sent in Six or Seven by 13Queen (oneshot | 4,175 | E)
therandomravenclw sent in you know I'd quench that thirst by napricot (complete | 38,027 | E) - bucky/steve/peggy, steve/others
Anon 9 said:
Hi! I'm looking for a fic and it's canon-divergent TFA. Bucky falls and loses his arm but he gets found by Steve. Peggy is disappointed by how dedicated Steve is to Bucky and they kinda fall out? Bucky and Steve move back to Brooklyn. Bucky has to adjust to having one arm and both to civilian life. They get a flat together and realise they aren't happy there so they then move to California. Steve becomes an artist and they end up admitting their feelings to each other. Thank you!!!!!
Anon sent in Malibu by glitteratiglue (oneshot | 13,065 | M)
57 notes
·
View notes
Text
Some Fun Facts About Antony
// Because I did a bit of research to develop him a bit more after that IMDB discovery and then kept writing-
It’s not made clear exactly what rank Antony holds in relation to others in the Legion but I have a deduction based off of some research, Caesar based his empire off of Rome. Antony is a reference to Marc Antony- Caesar’s Master of the Horse. Despite the title, according to my research, his actual rank was leader of the Roman Calvary and his rank would have been comparable to or directly below Brutus- you know, Caesar’s military leader.
Carrying that over into Caesar’s Legion, if Caesar is, well, Caesar, then that would make Legate Lanius his equivalent of Brutus (seeing as Lanius is next in line to be crowned and also at the head of seemingly all military operations under Caesar). And since Marc Antony was head of the cavalry and therefore just below Brutus, and Legion Antony is a direct emulation of him, that would mean he’s directly beneath Lanius in rank.
Looking at the Legion’s hierarchy those directly below the Legate are the Praetorians, which I personally put in a class of their own with Caesar since they’re basically his bodyguards. However, as we see with Lucius, they do have their own specialties. Theoretically, this means that Antony could be a Praetorian. The only problem is, Praetorians specialize and fight in hand to hand combat only. And Antony does have a gun and a machete in his inventory (additionally he’s wearing Veteran Legionary armor).
So really, it seems like it boils down to Antony being the same rank as one of Caesar’s Frumentarii. He is not a Frumentarii, but he has equal standing with them on account of being in charge of the cavalry, and he answers only to Lanius, Caesar, and the Praetorians really.
Going off of that, and basing it off of historical references, this means that theoretically, if Lanius was killed as Caesar Antony could become Caesar. Let that sink in.
For someone who works with dogs all day and does hard labor training them, Antony’s remarkably very clean. He bathes fairly often and stays fresh as he can. The tent where he sleeps and works the rest of the day is... less so. It’s not terrible nor is it unbearable (for most people in the Legion at least), but it’s definitely not as well-kept as he is. Thanks, Lupa.
I mentioned previously that Antony does have a machete and gun on him that he can use but in my portrayal, he doesn’t nearly use it as much as he could. Nah, Antony would rather wrestle someone to the ground and choke them out or fist fight someone to the death if he has the chance. Hell, this man will bite you if you get close enough to him.
Antony, much like Lanius, has no love for the Legion, and his opinions of it are overall very mixed but predominantly very negative. He has a begrudging type of respect for Caesar and what he’s built. He also respects the people that follow him so blindly for their loyalty and their dedication. But in all actuality, Antony does not like Caesar, doesn’t truly believe in his cause, and indeed he wouldn’t stay loyal to him if it weren’t for one thing: Lanius. He despises and is terrified of Lanius. Everything he does for the Legion, he does because he’s scared of having Lanius thrown upon him as a punishment. He’s seen first-hand what the Legate is capable of. He’s witnessed and experienced his callous cruelty and it is something that he fears with every fiber of his being.
Which is why when Caesar dies, if Lanius takes over he’s defecting. Caesar is the only reason Lanius has not obliterated him completely, and even now when he thinks Antony’s dogs do a poor job, he’ll have his men throw them into flames live for their failures and make sure word gets back to him out of spite. (And yes, Antony can, has, and will silently cry himself to sleep every time he hears that news bc fuck Lanius, those things are his spirit animals.)
Antony has a weird push-and-pull relationship with fire. Campfires and matches don’t bother him. In fact, he actually finds controlled flames very interesting and mesmerizing to watch and will easily become distracted by light sources in the distance (especially in the dark) because he’s become so sensitive to them. But larger uncontrolled flames terrify him. Wildfires or the kinds of scorched earth-style fires Lanius sets to try and erase things from the earth are just so scary to him. He doesn’t know why.
If Antony does not like something and it’s too close to him, he will bite it or smack at it. And not just regularly open palm smacks either. He curves his fingers so his nails are out and will actually claw at the thing bothering him and break flesh because his nails are surprisingly tough and catch flesh easily.
Antony gets a lot of looks and a lot of whispers about him for being so much more focused on his dogs than his comrades at times. He doesn’t really care what people say to him or about him. Now saying something about his hounds will draw more of a reaction.
If you think Antony spins around three times before laying down, you’re not entirely wrong. He actually checks everything in his tent three times before laying down.
Antony has a very sharp sense of direction. He’s very good at memorizing certain landmarks to indicate where he’s at. He only needs to pass through an area once to commit it to memory.
Likewise he’s also good at remembering names and faces. He has a habit of studying people’s traits and features and has an easy time putting names to their quirks. On more than one occasion, he’s found himself identifying the bodies of his comrades that either no one else can name or no one else can recognize for varying reasons.
Antony’s not the strongest swimmer but he makes up for it by being able to hold his breath longer than most. He can doggy-paddle and dive very well. It’s the coming back to the surface part that he has yet to master. Luckily, he’s learned that if he just holds still the air in his lungs will eventually cause him to float up to the surface.
He’s not great at climbing either. Lacks the balance and grip for it. Plus he get nauseated from being up high. He’s fine so long as he doesn’t look straight down. The problem is, Antony often gives into the temptation to look straight down.
Honestly, Antony is probably best on foot. He might not be as meaty as some of the other Legionaries, but he’s still a tough little bastard and his size gives him a remarkable advantage for being fast and agile. It’s harder to land a hit on him than you think, and even if you do, he tends to shrug it off and keep going. That’s not to mention Antony is hard to sneak up on.
Antony is a very alert person. Don’t let his odd demeanor or tendency to linger alone fool you. Tying into his memory, Antony has a habit of looking over his surroundings often. He counts the number of people around him and makes notes often of where they are. He also takes note of where things are (weapons or vantage points in particular), where sounds are coming from, and what is making them. He’ll notice if someone disappears or something suddenly starts or stops very quickly. The drawback to this is that his focus is immediately broken when he does... well, anything. And it kind of shows in conversation when he is not paying all of his attention. It’ll seem like he’s unfocused or spacing out. Luckily this is rare, as he was raised with some respect.
Whatever Antony doesn’t detect, Lupa and his dogs will.
Antony carries on some of the practices of his tribe in a secret. The Legion may boast that they assimilated him, but he refuses to let Caesar erase the Hangdogs completely. Especially because his old practices are something he clings to for comfort and security, just as much as he does his dogs.
Another cool thing about Antony is his ability to track things. Like seriously, this man could track a stray nightstalker pup across the Mojave. It’s not just because of his hounds either- Antony is great at picking up on tracks and footprints, determining how long they’ve been there, and following them. He can do it for days. He’d make a good Frumentarii for the fact that he can just go for weeks at a time tracking and following something undetected, studying its patterns and habits, and strategizing where the best opportunity to strike will arise. It’s because a part of the Hangdogs tradition was knowing how to hunt for yourself and survive on your own. If you could do that, then your dog would only make you more powerful. (They wanted you to have a symbiotic relationship with your sacred hound, not be completely dependent on it.)
For someone so good at keeping tabs on things and tracking things and being fairly decent in combat, you’d really think Antony is a well-rounded Legion soldier. But you’d be wrong. This man cashed out on luck and is only subpar on intellect. He’s only average intelligence but with how clumsy and ditzy he can be sometimes, it’ll leave you wondering if that’s the truth. And sometimes the things that come out of his mouth or the way he phrases them makes it hard to believe his Charisma is anything above a 2 (in actuality its a 5 but he hardly talks like it so-).
Antony is more emotional than most men of the Legion. He tends to think with his heart rather than his head sometimes (see: predominantly) and speaks out based on how he feels rather than what’s logical without saying it. (Ex: if something seems unfair or makes him angry, he’ll convey that without actually saying that he’s upset and simply try to intervene.) It also drives him to be a bit more interactive with others, especially if they’re distressed. His lack of experience leaves him a bit awkward about it, but he’ll do his best to comfort people and is actually pretty good at it.
Likewise, Antony’s strong emotions and quick-to-judge nature cause him to develop equally strong opinions of people fairly quickly. For example, he quickly began hating Lanius.
Antony has a tendency to throw his weight when he sits or lays down. Just a full body flop.
Antony doesn’t like having his hair touch unless it’s by someone he cares about. In which case, he loves having his hair touched. He loves being touched in general. He’s touch starved and very physically affectionate. He’s also big on giving gifts.
Antony knows how to carve wood and is fairly good at sculpting. He never gets to do it though.
He’s also fairly good at tanning, smithing, and sewing, and prefers to repair his own armor when it gets damaged. (And yes, he has tried making armor for his dogs.)
Antony has several tics that he does. He bounces his leg, taps his foot, curls and uncurls his fingers, cracks his knuckles and his neck a lot, taps his cheek or chin with his fingers, bites his nails, and tends to pace a lot. It’s not just when he’s nervous either. He just happens to do it a lot. Mans has too much energy.
Antony loves food. He knows how to cook a lot of things from his old tribe and cooks for himself mostly. Bring him ingredients and ask him to make you something new and he will love you forever.
Tying into that, Antony always has food and drink on him. Always. Like it is astonishing the ways in which he stores food and how much of it he can carry on him at a given time without anyone even knowing. It’s not like he has a super huge appetite either. Antony easily survives on just one or two meals a day.
Antony does have a regiment he follows in terms of walking his dogs. He wakes up early to go for walks out in the desert, gives them a small breakfast, trains the whole day, breaks for a walk or two, goes for one long walk by the river to drink and then take them out into the desert again, then returns them to the camp. He savors it too. He doesn’t like the feeling of being cooped up for too long. He prefers to be outside more.
Antony has a soft spot for children. So do his dogs.
Antony never took any slaves. He, like many who were brought into the Legion, could not bear the thought of taking any slave knowing that they could be one of his sisters or brothers.
He might not seem like he ever runs out of energy but he does, and when the batteries are finally empty, Antony crashes. Hard.
For someone so tough and so brutish, Antony sure is good at giving puppy eyes.
Antony has jokes. Lots of them. They’re mostly stupid puns. And pranks if he feels close enough with someone.
#// i had more but i finally blanked out#// enjoy this#you’re a natural : headcanon#‘’ master of the hounds ‘’ // antony#tw animal death mention#tw slavery mention
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Finally put out another chapter so here we are! :3 if you guys like it and have any suggestions (or lore corrections) let me know and I'll see what I can do to implement it!
Chapter 14: Scars
It was a great relief when Anduin was finally free of his father's shadow again. Especially since he had been spared having to end his budding relationship with Wrathion. The dragon in question was preparing for a night's rest and was back to ignoring Anduin's existence. "What the hell is your problem?" Anduin asked after a hour of not even an emotion wave from the dragon, the priest couldn't sense anything the dragon was feeling no matter how much he focused.
"What do you mean problem?" Wrathion seemed amazingly deadpan.
"You go from making out with me to ditching me for something more important to holding hands and kisses goodbye and back to ignoring me. What is your problem?!" Anduin snapped, exasperated.
"Do I have to shower you constantly in affection for it to be clear of my feelings?" Wrathion rolled onto his side from where he had been laying and staring up at the ceiling on his bed.
"Well some acknowledgment would be nice." Anduin growled, rolling so he didn't face Wrathion and ignoring the warmth that undoubtedly appeared at his side. Wrathion could not handle not being looked at.
"Do you want to know why I 'ditched' you this morning?" Wrathion asked his voice soft.
"It better be good." Anduin grumbled.
"I'm... not sure what to do with you, I mean, if you feel the way I think you feel than I don't want to do something and mess it up when I didn't even know what I had done wrong. So I asked the other Aspects for some help."
Anduin tried to skulk despite how his chest warmed from Wrathion's attempt to do right by him. "What do the other Aspects know about this?"
"i spoke to Kalecgos in particular, he has been romantically involved with humans for a long time. He knows them better than any other dragon."
Anduin, reluctantly, turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling. "And what did o' mighty Kalecgos have to say?"
"He told me that humans love fiercely and stay with their partners for life generally." Wrathion began seeming entranced by just gazing at Anduin, "they have learned to love every second they have and can appreciate the beauty in everything around them. Humans are also stubborn and will stand firmly in defense of what they believe to be right."
Anduin rolled to face Wrathion finally. Meeting the red eyes that were bracketed by black curls "Did he say anything about me?"
Wrathion made a purr in the back of his throat. "He thinks that you are a perfect example of your kind. You're sweet, dedicated, determined, patient, and optimistic."
Anduin huffed and made a show of rolling his eyes, "Kalecgos did not say that! You just don't want to tell me how you feel. Not directly anyway."
Wrathion gave Anduin a lazy grin. "Well maybe you're right, I can talk a big game and don't have clue what to do now that I've gotten your attention."
"Idiot." Anduin sighed gently reaching up and drawing a thumb over one of the shadows beneath Wrathion's eyes. "Is this going to be a thing or do I need to kick you out back to your own bed?" Anduin asked his breathing catching in his chest as Wrathion looked him over carefully. "I will expect you to at least acknowledge me when I'm around just the way I acknowledge you."
"I should ask for forgiveness ahead of time for I am... not as artfully skilled in human courting as I am in most things," Wrathion rumbled letting his eyes fall shut under Anduin's touch. "But I would very much like to try. To be with you I mean."
A surge of ecstasy overloaded Anduin's senses at the admission. He leaned forward and kissed Wrathion, gently at first but when Wrathion did not speed things up the way he had previously Anduin got impatient and pushed Wrathion onto his back and followed, straddling either side of Wrathion like one would ride a horse, mindful of the leg, well, it sounded weirder in Anduin's head than it really was.
Wrathion responded instantly to the gentle kisses and then became more fierce and aggressive after that. "Wrathion." Anduin wasn't even sure what to say or what he was trying to say. His excitement pooled in his stomach and tightened around his insides almost painfully. What was it about Wrathion that stirred such emotions inside Anduin?
Anduin smiled and claimed the black-haired man's lips again. He pawed lazily at the black jacket that Wrathion wore and began to pull it away.
Maybe it was because Anduin couldn't see very well at all except for the glow of Wrathion's eyes that made it feel a bit better to be doing this with him. No one else being able to see anything, if they could somehow get in through the door Anduin had specifically locked when he and Wrathion had retired for the evening. No Right or Left getting on to them again. Just the two of them together.
Anduin felt no shame for what he was doing. His father had already voiced his approval and the Light had no qualms about letting one do what they wanted. The only real rule being it wasn't allowed to hurt someone and he didn't think he could hurt or force Wrathion to do anything at all. Not that he wanted to do either.
Still the gentle glow was enough to see the new expanse of skin available to him.
For Anduin having been worried about the remains of his own injuries Wrathion hadn't said a thing about the massive array of angry scars of all colors. All were well cared for but were discolored only because of the nature of the attack. Some blue wounds came from what Anduin could only assume was a breath weapon of another dragon. Many of the horribly discolored wounds were definitely breath weapon in origin
Most though were angry red welts ripped into his flesh from teeth and claws indicating many battles fought even though his dragon form was just yesterday big enough to fight properly.
Anduin knew more than anyone what it was like to be forced to fight too young. Anduin himself had been very little when first taught how to defend himself, though he loathed having any type of disagreement, petty ones in particular. If he needed to fight he was going to face the problem, not hide from it. "Wrathion-" Wrathion hummed his acknowledgment, pushing some hair out of Anduin's face. "Do they hurt you still?" Anduin asked ignoring the finger tugging at the hem of Anduin's shirt, it wasn't about him anymore.
"Sometimes. Mostly the elemental attacks but-"
"May I try to mend them?" Anduin interrupted.
"I've had the best priests, paladins, shamans, druids in the world-"
"I think I can heal it." Anduin held his ground.
Wrathion stared at Anduin for a long time before he lay back onto the bed, "very well. You can try."
Anduin nodded slowly. He called the light to him and began to channel it, closing his eyes and allowing his soul itself to flow into the light. These wounds festered long past their delivery because of the hate and fear attached to them. Or that's what Anduin suspected. It's why Anduin's own had not healed much at all since the day there were dealt. No healer could mend them unless they were personally attached to the patient. Many priests refused to see their close friends and families for safety's sake. But if Anduin could help Wrathion he was going to try. The light grew brighter as he began to surge all his thoughts and memories into the spell. He needn't open to eyes to know the light was glaring, for it seeped under his eyelids but he opened them anyways and shrank the spell so it fits into the palm of his hand as a small disc.
He guided the bright disc to Wrathion's chest and already the skin touched by the light was mending, the true color returning, the marks receding and closing. Soon the scars faded into small white lines that would vanish on their own. With a smug grin, Anduin glanced up to where Wrathion was staring at him perplexed. "How did you-"
Anduin, not wanting to answer the question and be asked why he didn't fix his own, both because he knew he couldn't do that and because it was something of a mood killer, replied,b"Tricks of the trade." Instead pressing their lips together again.
Wrathion sighed into the kiss and ran his fingers through Anduin's hair, gently clutching at fistfuls of it. "Titans..." he breathed. There was a long pause where they gazed at one another intently. "That's amazing," Wrathion said finally. "Healing the uncurable." There was yet another bout of frantic kissing before a huge wave of exhaustion hit Anduin like the bell. Just much less painful, and more disappointing. The spell had drained Anduin of every scrap of energy he had and he was going to fall asleep on top of Wrathion if he didn't stop this soon. As much as he would like to continue his body would not allow it for the life of him.
"Wrathion... we should stop now." Anduin murmured once they separated again. Wrathion tilted his head at Anduin clearly worried, confused, and maybe a tad hurt. "Its nothing with you I'm just... drained because of that spell."
Wrathion seemed to understand them, his arms dropping from Anduin's back to either side of him on the bed, and Anduin was able to roll onto the bed beside the dragon. Wrathion rolled in the opposite direction to presumably close his eyes and sleep.
Anduin took this opportunity to wrap his arms around Wrathion and hold the dragon close.
#world of warcraft#wrathion#blizzard#fanfic#to be continued#anduin wrynn#wranduin#this took me way longer than it should have
8 notes
·
View notes