#Wind and Wrath and the Pride Between thread | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sxdmoonchxld · 4 years ago

Text

Proven Wrong | KTH

Taehyung x reader

Words: 4k+

Genre: smut

Warnings: Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Fingerfucking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Begging, Multiple Orgasms, Very Big Dick Tae, Like Scary Big, Like Gut Splitting Big, Unrealistic Sex, Belly Bulge, Bad Dirty Talk, Unprotected Sex, Gets A Little Dubious Consent Towards The End

Summary: You call his dick small. He proves that it’s not, by wrecking your pussy ;)

a/n: again i use to be lizardsocial. this was my most popular story on here so im bringing it back as well. i think you can find the original one on here somewhere. i don’t expect it to get half as many notes it did the first time but thas okai. i’ve edited kinda heavily so it's a little different from the original. its filthier. anywhos. Enjoy!

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Loud music blasted throughout your apartment, the rumbling bass from the speakers reverberated through your bedroom walls. Pictures and posters rippled with each vibration, struggling to retain their original position. You groaned in annoyance, you honestly thought your request was quite simple. Just a couple of hours. 120 minutes of quietness was all you asked for so that you could study for your upcoming calculus test. He knew how important this exam was to you. He evened 'pinky promise, cross your heart hope to die'. That he would give you the silence needed to stay focused. And everyone knew you don't break a pinky promise.

Even now in your annoyance, his voice still played on a constant loop in your head.

"Oh! Yea ___, not a problem. I can keep it quiet for you. So don't you worry a hair on your pretty little head!" Taehyung had said, waving his hand in the air feigning nonchalance.

That cute signature boxy smile of his planted face. You actually thought that for once he would keep his word, and you could get some precious studying time, but no. The tiny 2-bedroom shared apartment was full of heavy jazz music and high-pitched shrieking from what sounded like a cat being skinned alive. Who even listens to jazz music when trying to fuck?

The last thread of patience had now been pulled too thin and finally snapped. Your desire to study was gone with the wind, and in its place, irritability and wrath began to take root. You slammed your laptop closed and threw it to the end of the bed along with your papers and textbook. Jumping out of bed, you stomped your way out of the bedroom, eyes searching frantically for your target.

"Taehyung!" You yelled once you began to process the scene that was in front of you. The living room was in shambles, Taehyung's phone was hooked up to the speaker, the volume loud enough you swore angels in heaven could hear. An empty soda bottle, chip bags and clothes littered the floor. Don't even get you started on the couch pillows! Your one of a kind thrift finds were strewn all over the place. You felt your blood pressure rising, the vein at your temple fattening in rage and pulsing wildly. Your jaw threatening to ache from how hard you were grinding your teeth out of anger.

Your eyes investigated the vicinity for Taehyung and low and behold there he was on the now bare couch. Lying underneath him was the source of the vexatious screeches. He was dry humping on some random chick with his mouth fiercely attached to her neck, deep purple bruises vivid from where you stood across the room. You rolled your eyes at the pair. You knew damn well Taehyung's thin lips and weak thrusts didn't call for all that useless screaming.

You stomped over to the speaker, your sock padded feet slapping against the hardwood floor, and yanked the cord from the wall. Already the apartment was halfway quiet except for the banshee that was still squawking her head off.

"Hey! Shut the fuck up with all that noise!" You roared, scaring the girl and finally bringing their attention to your heated figure. Taehyung separated his lips from the girl's neck with a wet smack dislodging himself from between her spread thighs.

"Y/n, so nice of you to join us. How is studying going?" Taehyung spoke with a grin plastered on his handsome face. You resisted the urge to reach out and slap it off. He knew that you couldn't or anybody for a fact, could study with all the noise that was just previously filling the confines of the apartment. Yet here he was playing with the smidge of patience you had left by trying to simulate naiveté.

"All I asked was for you to be silent so that I could study for my upcoming test, and you said that you would. But instead, I am interrupted by your noisy ass music. Jazz music at that and this bitch here screaming at the top of her lungs!" You growled out between clenched teeth. The female gasped at your words embarrassment transforming her features, while Taehyung sat there with a blank look on his face, apparently unamused with your little rant.

"Oh my! Please excuse my rude roommate Mino. Obviously, her parents forgot to teach her basic manners. Let me walk you to the door." Taehyung spoke his fluffy curls swaying with the shakes of his head. A look of disappointment aimed your way as he began helping her gather her things and walking her to the front door.

"Umm, actually my name is Mina." She corrected Taehyung, but you could see it on his face that he could care less about the girl's name. Taehyung looked at her for a few seconds, as if he was processing the correct information of the girl's name.

"Yeah. Mona, that's what I said, isn't it?" Taehyung deadpanned, pushing her through the front door. Mina huffed at the fact that Taehyung continued to get her name wrong. You observed the pitiful interaction as you began to clean up the mess they made. You could tell from the look in Mina's eyes that she wanted more with Taehyung, but you knew that would never happen. Taehyung was a manwhore, a fuckboy, man thot, whatever the preferred term was. He had a new girl every night, and if he did try the whole "relationship smorgasbord" as he called it. The relationship usually didn't last for more than a week, before he was on to his next conquest.

"Tae?" You questioned meekly.

"Hmm?" He hummed head-turning slightly in your direction.

"Why do you do these things to me." You were genuinely curious as to why he made it his mission to push your every button. This wasn't the first time his action has hindered you from completing an important task. You just didn't understand why he chose to make your life more complicated than it already was.

"Awe is little __ j-jealous?" Taehyung taunted in a high-pitched voice used to entertain babies or puppies.

"Huh?!" You gasped choking on your saliva. Shit, you almost gave yourself whiplash with how fast you swung your neck to make full eye contact.

"Did you wish that was you, I was grinding on?" Taehyung continued to taunt as he walked into the kitchen to rinse his mouth out with water. That Mina girl had put way too much perfume on her neck. Now he was left with a sour aftertaste in his mouth. It tasted cheap, and Taehyung didn't do cheap.

If he was sincere with himself, he did wish it was you he was giving all his attention instead of these random girls. He considered you cute and innocent, with an air of sexiness. That he was pretty sure you weren't conscious of. In all actuality, Taehyung was smitten with you from the first time he saw when you came to ask about the roommate needed sign he had posted. The cute little freshman with a quirky personality and full of ambition. Those first 10 minutes of meeting you had him sprung like no other. You were way different from the usual girls he was used to. Which shouldn't be much of a surprise since most just wanted to fuck, have money spent on them. Oh! Of course, the bragging rights, that they actually got to fuck THE Kim Taehyung.

Don't get him wrong, there had been a countless amount of times he had tried to gain your attention. But you were too busy holed up in your room with your pretty little head stuck in a book to give him the time of day. So instead Taehyung reverted back to his middle school ways and chose to torment and irritating you as a way to receive some type of reaction from you. He would take whatever he could get, he was becoming that desperate.

"What exactly did I have to be jealous of? You do know she was faking it right? I didn't think you to be so naive Tae, because you and I both know that them thin ass lips-" You stopped to point at the box that made up his mouth. "And that speck in your pants that you call a dick can't make anyone scream." You declared assuredly, moving your pointer finger down to his crotch. Pride and confidence swelled in your chest at the insult thrown at him. 'Good one __'

Taehyung spat out the water he was swishing around in his mouth and whipped his head in your direction. Did you just stand there and try to insult his manhood? Nah, clearly his hearing had to be a little off, right?

"Excuse me, what did you just say? My ears must be failing me." Taehyung said wiping the stray droplets of water from his mouth, sticking a finger in his ear to loosen the imaginary earwax there. Amused, he sauntered towards you, a ghost of a smirk rising on his face.

"You heard me, Mr.Kim. Your micropenis couldn't pleasure anything but your hand if even that." You said backing up, as he prowled closer to you, his shoulder in a tense bunch raised close to his ears. Any amusement his face could have held was gone, in its place was a dark, unreadable expression. His mouth fixed in a firm line, and the tip of his ears blossomed red. Flames of anger and lust flashing in his chocolate eyes.

"My sweet __, nothing about me is little. I can guarantee that." Taehyung growled out, his already deep voice deepened in tone. You scoffed trying to portray indifference but continued backing away from his advancing until your back made contact with the wall. Shit.

Taehyung placed his hands beside your head, caging you in. Your eyes fluttered softly as you breathe in his rich cologne encased your senses, dark, woodsy with just a hit of a floral note. His eyes roamed your face, taking in your features before settling on your lips. You self-consciously licked them before tucking them between your teeth. Taehyung leaned his face closer to yours.

"Such a pretty little mouth you have. Has anyone told you how troublesome it could be though?" Taehyung questioned, his thumb on his left coming up to your upper lip.

You could feel your heart beating against your ribcage, feel your cheeks heat up, and dare you say; a gush of wetness in the seat of your boy shorts. The sexual tension was too powerful for your weak defences. Against your better judgment, you let your eyes flutter closed, and lips pucker expectantly anticipating the moment his lips would meet yours. Except Taehyung had other plans.

He shifted his head to the right, placing a gentle kiss on the lobe of your ear. Slowly moving his lips up to the outer shell of your ear.

You couldn't help the surprised moan that left your mouth as you unconsciously tilted your head back, offering your neck to his probing advances.

"Would you like me to prove you wrong?" Taehyung challenged in a whisper. His deep voice sending shocks of pleasure zinging down your spine. He trailed his lips down your neck, pressing gentle kisses against the surface. You had to choke back the moan that threatened to escape you at the feeling of his soft lips on your neck.

"N-no, Taehyung." You panted breathlessly.

"I don't feel like finding my glasses to look at something too small for the naked eye to see." You spoke, resolute on getting in one last insult. Taehyung pulled his face away from your neck, growling at your words.

"Haha, hilarious." He laughed humorously.

He pulled your body away from the wall, hoisted you up over his shoulder with a small grunt, and made his way to his bedroom. Kicking the door open before unceremoniously throwing you on his plush king-sized bed. 'Not good'.

Taehyung stood at the edge of the bed staring at you with unadulterated lust clouding his eyes. His chest heaved heavily with anger or arousal, you weren't sure. But based on the sizable tent in his pants, you could guess the latter.

"Taehyung! I already told you I don't want to see your baby-." You started but was cut off by Taehyung grabbing your ankles and pulling you roughly to the edge of the bed, pouncing on you. His lips met yours in a kiss that stole your breath away. The kiss was sensual and firm, but you could tell he was holding back.

Taehyung snaked his hand up your body, and into your hair, giving it a sharp tug. You gasped at the slight pain giving him a clear path to ease his tongue into your mouth, coiling itself around your own, deepening the kiss further. He thoroughly explored your mouth not leaving one surfaced untouched by his tongue, greedily swallowing your needy moans. Fuck he tasted good. Like oranges and burnt sugar.

Taehyung detached from your mouth to remove his shirt and to help you remove your tank top as-well. Your nipples pebbling from the chilly air and arousal. His eyes studied your body, you wanted so badly to shield yourself away from his unwavering stare.

"You're so beautiful. I've waited so long for this." Taehyung whispered before attacking your throat with kisses. You whined out in pleasure, your hips bucking up with every love bite he delivered, your body was aching in need for more.

"Tae. P-please more. G-give me m-more." You keened in between pants of air.

Your hips now undulated in tiny circles as Taehyung trailed his kisses down your neck, to your breast. He sucked and bit the soft skin around your nipple lightly. Soon his tongue gently wrapped around your nipple, sucking it into his warm mouth, while his hand teased the other breast, kneading and pinching your nipple. Your moans were increasing in volume, at his assault.

Your legs widened on their own accord, making more room for Taehyung. Your pussy was weeping profusely. The boy shorts you were wearing were thoroughly drenched, and with each movement of your hips, your arousal perfumed the air. Releasing your nipple, he continued his way down your chest, moving his lips across your stomach. Down, down he goes until he's kissing you down to where your torso joins your pelvis. He trained his eyes on you, eager to see your reaction as he pulled your boy shorts off from your body with a wet smack.

"Tell me what you want love. Use your big girl voice for me." Taehyung cooed in a provoking tone. You would have told him to fuck off if it wasn't for his mouth hovering right over your clenching core, his hot breath attacking your pussy lips.

"Cat got your tongue? You sure did have a lot of things to say earlier." Taehyung teased once more. You moaned with each word he said, your hips thrusting upwards, hoping to find his mouth.

"Please! Just touch my pussy, lick it, do something! Stop teasing me!" You urged, bringing your hands up to stimulate your breast, you didn't know how much more teasing you could take. You could feel your essence seeping between your ass cheeks and coating the bed. The dull ache in your stomach was intensifying, and he had barely touched you.

"Mmm, well since you begged nicely." Taehyung replied, wasting no time in attacking your pussy. His broad tongue licked wide strips up against your pussy. Splitting your lips with the appendage with each pass to dip his tongue into your pulsating hole. Your hands found his soft brown hair as your back arched off the bed, pushing your cunt deeper into his face.

"Y-yeahfuck! Like that it's so good!" You whined slurring your words.

Taehyung shifted his probing muscle's attention to your clit, attacking it with kitten licks. You shouted loudly, as your thighs were beginning to shake. The coil in your stomach tightening almost painfully. He wrapped his strong arms around your thighs, your knees were hitched higher up almost touching your chest in this position.

But this way, he had much more leverage to devour you. The comforter on his bed bunching uncomfortably beneath your ass but at this moment you gave zero fucks. Taehyung had total control now, showing no remorse as your upper body thrashed about on the bed. Your hands were no longer able to reach his hair, so you opted for your own instead, pulling harshly on your roots.

"Fuck, Taehyung!" You wailed shrilly. Taehyung chuckled at the sounds you were making, remembering your words from earlier he couldn't wait to hear what you sounded like taking his dick.

He then rubbed two thick fingers in the abundance of fluids that your pussy was producing and gently eased them into your tight core.

"Not only is baby girl surprisingly noisy, but she's also pretty tight too." You clenched even more around his fingers, your wall throbbing wildly around them.

"I can't wait to feel you around my dick." Taehyung moaned sucking your clit into his mouth, delivering hard sucks as his fingers pumped into you at a moderate speed. Sadly, the introduction of his fingers was your undoing. You couldn't help as your legs stuck straight in the air. Body arching off the bed and bowed forward as your orgasm hit you like a freight train knocking the wind from your lungs.

Your eyes were shut tightly, and your mouth hung open in a silent scream as your body convulsed from the intensity of your orgasm. Taehyung had a hard time holding you down but continued his assault on your creaming pussy. He slurped as much of your cream as he could, absolutely addicted to the way you tasted.

"T-Tae, stop-p." You called out to him pathetically. Your intense orgasm had passed, but he was still thrusting shallowly inside your tight core, lapping at your clit. The oversensitivity was becoming too much, as you struggled to wiggle away from him. Taehyung withdrew his fingers and ceased his licking with one last kiss on your clit, making you flinch at the contact.

Taehyung beheld your fucked out appearance with pride. Your legs splayed open, displaying your spasming cunt. The way your chest was swiftly rising and falling as you struggled to catch your breath. Your hair stood up in every direction from your previous pulling, body trembling with aftershocks, and all he did was eat you out and finger you.

"Wow." You mumbled your eyes closing, sleep trying to claim you.

"Oh, nonono. I'm not done with you yet." Taehyung proclaimed, flipping you onto your stomach. He had to admit he was the hardest he had ever been in his life. His pants were now unbearably tight, and a wet spot at the crotch of his pants started to become visible. Taehyung tugged the offending material off hissing as his massive erection made contact with the air, free from being confined. You lifted yourself with jelly arms onto your knees, wanting to see what the commotion was behind you.

You choked on your spit for the second time today, as your eyes made contact with the angry red monster Taehyung called his cock. Not only was he unbelievably thick; a little bigger than your wrist, but he was also long. In his hands was the living definition of a third leg. He was crazy if he actually thought that would fit inside of you?

"Fuck that shit!" You cursed trying to scramble to the headboard of the bed, but Taehyung halted your escape, grabbing your ankles and yanking you back.

He would have laughed at your reaction, but he was too turned on, there was so much blood rushing to his cock he felt lightheaded. He wasted no time in putting you back in your previous position. Pulling your ass up so that it was sticking in the air and your torso was lying flat on the bed, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.

"Tae! Wait...you can't be serious!" You tried pleading with him terrified that thing he called his dick was going to tear you apart.

"Not so little am I baby?" He snickered

Don't worry, you can take it I'll go slow." Taehyung groaned his voice strained, his arousal was beginning to take a toll on him. Taehyung grabbed his shaft and brought the bulbous tip of his cock to rub against your clit. You mewled with pleasure, his tip was hot and the pre-come he was leaking added to the sensation of relaxing and reigniting your body.

Taehyung continued to stroke his tip along your clit thoroughly coating it with your thick fluids. He placed the thick head at your entrance, your juices helping him to slide in. He watched in amazement as your leftover cum gather around the head of his cock in a coating out creamy white. Your body tensed up at the massive intrusion, your cunt pulsated wildly around him, drawing a deep groan from his throat.

"Baby relax, you're squeezing so tight." Taehyung moaned out affected by your spasming core. He reached his hand underneath your body and strummed at your clit once again, coxing you to relax.

Taehyung took your distraction as his cue to shove the offending length inside your prone pussy. You squealed at the sudden fullness and intense burning. Bucking your hips, trying to dislodge him. It was too much to take, especially at this position. Your pussy was going to rip in half.

"B-bi-iig-g. To-o mu-ch." You whined out stuttering horribly.

Taehyung gripped your hips harder to stop your fitful twisting and bucking. He felt as though he was about to explode you were so damn tight and wet, your bucking didn't help his case any either. He didn't wait this long to finish early. He refused to be a one pump chump. Taehyung reached his hand back underneath your body to locate your clit, rubbing it in firm tight circles, to help relax you, and sure enough; like magic, after you adjusted to his massive size, your body was suddenly filled with mind-numbing pleasure. Your whimpers turned into loud groans as you threw your hips back onto Taehyung, giving him the okay to start moving.

"Hell yeah. That's it, baby girl work this tight little cunt on my cock." He grunts before he withdrew his length and slammed back in, his dick splitting your sensitive walls, hitting every spot inside your clenching cunt. His strokes were fast, broad, and powerful, never had you felt so full in your life. Your mouth was gaped open, as shrieks of pleasure fell from your jaws, drool dripped from your lips, and dots blurred your vision. You could feel him in your guts, branding himself inside you. The coil in your stomach was quickly tightening, ready to release what was no doubt, going to be the most intense orgasm your body was about to experience. Taehyung could feel your core tightening up further, your tight little pussy was far better than he could have expected, he wanted to punch himself for waiting this long to indulge in you.

"You're taking this big cock so well, baby. Such a good girl." Taehyung growled.

"But I have a secret to tell you." You shivered as he stopped mid-stroke. You felt the warmth and damp skin of his torso drape over your back. Like pudding in his hands. You didn't even flinch as he brought his large callused hands up through the part in your breast to wrap around your throat.

Ever so slightly he squeezed the sides of your neck, you felt him throb in your stomach as you clenched even tighter around him at the action. Slowly he lifted your head up with his hand still on your neck. Again he squeezed. Bringing his lips down to your ear, he said, "Would you believe me if I said you're only taking half of me in."

The way your jaw dropped and your eyes bugged out of your head would have been comical. If you weren't genuinely terrified, that is.

"O-nly half! That's impossible I swear your touch my small intestine already." You tried to look back to see if he was lying or not, but he tightened his hold on your neck, forcing your head back to look up at him. Your body was now bowed in an almost perfect 'C' shape. You felt his other hand snake around your abdomen and press on the bulge that was his cock poking through your stomach. Again he throbbed in excitement.

"You were talking such a big game earlier baby girl, what happened? Surely you could all of a dick that's as little as mine. Right?" Taehyung scolded in your ear.

Little by little, he began pulling you more on his cock by your neck. And fuck he really wasn't lying he really had more length to feed your cunt.

"Ta-ae, pleaseplease n-o more-e, I can't take it m-my stomach hurts." You whined

"Hmm? But you're so close to taking all of me in. Just a few more inches, and I'll be all in." He responded.

Not wasting any more time he released your neck, and before you could fall down to the bed. He locked his fingers in your hair and firmly yanked, lifting you off the mattress, and into his arms, allowing himself the rest of the way in.

You screamed out as his hips met your ass with a wet smack. The increase in pressure coupled with the new position broke the levee to your release. You trembled uncontrollably as your orgasm started from your toes. Quickly spreading to your arms and head before finally spreading throughout your whole body, you were rendered speechless as your orgasm claimed you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as a burst of white light flashed behind your eyes, incoherent sounds of what was supposed to be Taehyung's name filled the space around you.

Through it all Taehyung continued to fuck into you almost violently, allowing your cores convulsions to wash over him. His body dripped with sweat as he briefly picked up his speed, his hips beginning to stutter. He held your thrashing body close to his as delivered his last couple of thrusts before moaning loudly and exploding his hot seed inside of your wrecked cunt.

You both fell breathlessly on the mattress, sweat polishing your skin, exhaustion quickly making its way to claim you. Taehyung pulled slowly out of your battered and swollen pussy. On wobbly legs, walked to the restroom to get a washcloth to clean the mess that was between your thighs. You moaned at the textured touch of the cloth and the dampness of it soothing the hot burn from your pussy.

Your whole body was numb, and you were utterly worn out, so much so, that when Taehyung pulled you into his arms, you didn't even argue.

In the morning you will definitely be having a word with him. But for now, you let his racing heartbeat lull you to some much-needed sleep.

#bts smut #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #bts v smut #bts taehyung x reader #bts taehyung smut #bts #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #smut #college au #bts e2l #bts oneshot #bts taehyung

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wolfywolfy · 4 years ago

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Theoriea and spoilers for Kingdom of the Wicked!!

Please forgive me if I'm missing details, I just finished reading the book and I didn't take notes the first time around so I might be forgetting things. But I have a loose theory (sort of?) And I'd love to hear other people's thoughts! And I can't find any other threads anywhere also theory crafting so I figured I would make my own.

What if Wrath isn't exactly who he says he is? We're under the impression that be can't lie, but according to Envy (if I remember right) he's actually one of the only Princes who can. This is somewhat confirmed by how Emilia confronts him about the other tidbit that Envy told her - that he needs one more soul to be free.

This leads for two possibilities on my mind:

First, it could be that he's not actually the Prince of Wrath at all. He merely told Emilia to call him Wrath but stated that it was never his true name, and that he wouldn't share his true name with her. Additionally we know he gets angry, and Emilia also feels angry often when she is around him, but I would argue they share a more prominent emotion when they're interacting together - Pride. Think about it, they're constantly quipping with each other, trying to prove how they are better than others, trying to outwit others... It sort of makes sense. I think Wrath might actually be the Prince of Pride, and that could explain why he seems to be pleased when Emilia signs her soul over to the House of Pride. Of course this brings into question why he would want to convince her he's the Prince of Wrath in the first place, but honestly I would probably need to reread the book and take notes to try and tie this all together. But I do think it would be interesting.

However another interesting concept to me is that he is who he says he is, the Prince of Wrath, but he's actually the devil himself. Mainly what I have to go off of this is symbolism, but I think it's what's most intriguing. Overwhelmingly we see the motif of serpents and snakes relating to Wrath. It's his tattoo, his dagger, he even saves Emilia from the Viperae (? I can't remember what it's called) and leaves a mark on her neck in the shape of a snake.

Snakes are constantly used as imagery for the devil. This comes from the story of Adam and Eve in Paradise, where Eve is convinced by the devil (disguised as a snake) to eat the forbidden fruit. There is even some fruit imagery between Wrath and Emilia when he offers her honeyed apples after her meeting with Lust!

And look at this quote:

"Balance. Light and dark. The sun and moon. Good and evil. A snake winding through a bed of wildflowers. Offering a taste of the most forbidden fruit. Scales of justice were tipped; a choice hanging there for me to decide. To right a wrong, or damn us all."

We can infer that the "dark", "moon", "evil", "snake", and "justice" are all referring to Wrath specifically. Because ALL of those things are specifically used to refer to him at other parts in the book. The moon tattoos they share. The snake imagery. There's even a moment where he was interrogating that one man where Emilia specifically mentioned how HE was bringing JUSTICE ! He was the judge, and bringing justice!

All of these things are specifically aligned with the devil, especially in reference to the story of Adam and Eve and ESPECIALLY in Paradise Lost.

Paradise Lost is inherently about the balance between "good and evil", and in many interpretations (my favorite interpretation) it's more about how God and the Devil are actually two sides of the same coin, they work in balance, our world cannot work without one or the other. It's a super interesting way of thinking about sin and religion, but mostly I think it adds to this idea where Wrath, who seems to be the most level-headed and borderline kindest of the Demon Princes that we have seen, might actually be the Devil himself.

If he were the Devil, this could also explain the reason why he would need "one soul to be free". It's emphasized in the book how the Devil is looking for a witch wife to break the curse. But I would need to look into this more, since that may not align with how he's able to leave Hell at will before Emilia summons him with her unknowing vow of betrothal.

Also, maybe unrelated, but in the design of the map of the Seven Houses in the book, the House of Wrath is by far the largest. If Pride was the Devil, why is his house so much smaller than Wrath's? Maybe the size of the houses doesn't actually relate to anything and is just an artistic choice, but I feel like imagery is especially important throughout this whole book. So I guess we'll see.

#kingdom of the wicked #kerri maniscalco #spoilers #theory #theories #???? this isnt organized at all its just me rambling #feel free to add on id love to hear other ppls thoughts #wolfy speaks

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ahgaseda · 5 years ago

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wolf boys || chapter 18

⇥ synopsis : being the young alpha female over a pack of misbehaving werewolves is no easy task and is made even more complicated when the time comes to choose a mate...

⇥ warnings : this story in its entirety includes but is not limited to strong language and dialogue, recurring violence or mentions of blood, and explicit sexual content, and is intended for an adult audience only!

You sat by the window, staring through the glass and letting out a whine in the back of your throat. There was a hole in your chest, left by Jaebeom’s absence, and only he could fill it.

You needed to know he was safe, but he had passed far beyond what you could sense and feel. The territory was expansive and he had neared the outskirts before your powerful bond with him faded. Your magic could only go so far at such distance between you. Only wisps of him reached you now. He was alive. And angry as hell.

It was misery, plain and simple. To go from spending every waking moment in someone’s arms, being tangled together, to being without him.

With another sigh, you let your head rest in your hand, eyes ever dutifully on the window waiting for a glimpse of him.

Mark approached, sliding in behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. You welcomed his warmth, soothing your loneliness, and leaned back against his chest.

“How much longer?” you asked impatiently.

“You know Jaebeom,” Mark huffed with a comforting smile. “He won’t rest until the intruder is as far away as can be.”

“The male sensed I was in heat. I’m not in heat anymore.”

Mark interjected, “Doesn’t mean he wouldn’t try to impress you with a display of violence. You’re an alpha female. Not many of you left.”

Your first instinct was to place a hand over your stomach at the mere mention of violence, but Mark tightened his arms around your waist, assuring you. The gesture never failed to make you smile. You brushed your palm over his arm in silent thanks.

Mark’s breath was hot on your neck before he placed his lips at the curve of your shoulder. You shivered, surprised at first to feel his kiss, all things considered. But you purred softly, letting him know the affection was not unwanted.

“Trying to distract me?” you asked sheepishly, tilting your head to give him more access.

Mark slowly trailed kisses up the side of your neck and rasped in your ear, “Is it working?”

“A little,” you replied, biting your lip.

Mark skimmed his teeth down the same path of his kisses across your flesh and you shuddered at how swiftly he made your pulse race.

The protective grasp of his hands around your stomach made you smile. The wolf boys would protect any baby you and Jaebeom made as if it were their own. It was a sacred law among packs.

You closed your eyes and tilted your head back, reaching to thread your fingers through his hair. Mark kissed and sucked at your neck, making you forget your misery for a moment.

The back door opened and you peered over to see Jinyoung and Jackson returning from their short rounds.

Jackson took one look at Mark’s precarious position and whined, “Oh, real slick.”

Mark pressed a chaste kiss at the base of your neck in farewell, replying coolly, “The sigma serves the alpha.”

“A serving of dick apparently,” Jackson retorted, glaring insincerely.

You would have laughed, but you were looking too intently at Jinyoung for a report.

Jinyoung met your expectant gaze and said, “I could sense him only for a second, he’s so far.”

Your shoulders slumped with disappointment.

“They’ve fought, but the other alpha isn’t conceding yet,” Jinyoung continued, not too terribly worried. “It may take a few rounds to drive him out.”

You glanced around at the boys and asked, “If I order one of you to go join him, would you listen?”

“Not this time, alpha,” Jackson replied softly, shaking his head in dissension. “Our priority is keeping you safe. Especially if you can’t phase if you’re pregnant.”

You glanced down.

“Sense anything yet?” Jinyoung asked curiously, taking the seat beside you as Mark headed for the kitchen.

“A tiny whisper,” you spoke quietly, failing to hide your sadness. “It was there and then it was gone.”

Jinyoung felt his heart aching. He wanted only to comfort you. “I know it’s easier said than done, but try to relax,” Jinyoung crooned, wrapping an arm around you and tucking you close. “It will happen.”

You buried your face against his neck, resisting tears. “I don’t know what I’ll do if it didn’t take,” you murmured, voice trembling.

They would never know what it was like. To have given so much of yourself and your magic in the hopes of creating a life.

You rose abruptly, agitated. The waiting was torture. Waiting for Jaebeom to emerge victorious and return home. Waiting for your baby to make itself known inside you.

“I’m going outside,” you barked, heading for the door in search of fresh air.

Jackson didn’t hesitate to move himself in your path, holding out a hand to block you. “I can’t let you,” he said gently, eyes sympathetic.

You rounded on him and snapped, “You can’t let me? Are you out of your mind, delta?”

At hearing his rank, Jackson lowered his head, trying to show submission and stifle your wrath.

Jinyoung called your name worriedly.

“Everyone has forgotten I am just as much alpha as he is,” you hissed, pushing past Jackson and shoving the door open.

As you trudged across the porch, Jackson breezed past you and landed on the lawn in his lupine form, ready to bar any further progress.

It hurt your pride, being treated like a helpless pup. You planted your feet and glared at his challenge, ready to put the stubborn wolf boy in his place. Then, you stopped, glancing down at your feet and then back at him.

You couldn’t phase.

A soft whimper left you. “I can’t...,” you whispered, on the verge of screaming your frustrations at the top of your lungs.

Jinyoung and Mark gathered behind you, not knowing what to do.

Tears streamed down your cheeks. “I can’t phase,” you cried, legs folding beneath you. On the stairs you sat, hiding your face in your hands.

Jackson approached tentatively before his eyes gleamed. Inching closer, the brown wolf pressed his nose to your stomach and his tail began to wag furiously.

“What are you doing?” you choked on a sob.

I smell it, he told you. Before I could only smell you, but now...

You blinked in surprise, cheeks hot with tears. He was in true form. His senses were stronger.

The wolf before you panted with excitement, stamping his paws. It’s not just you anymore, he said with glee.

Eyes wide, you turned and called, “Jinyoung?”

Jinyoung didn’t hesitate to become the grey wolf at your side and his nose twitched. He didn’t have to come any closer to say, I smell it, too. There’s another scent blended with yours.

You laughed in disbelief, rubbing away your tears with a fist. “How can you sense it before me? That’s not fair,” you quipped, trying to alleviate the tension you had caused.

The two wolves wagged their tails in unison.

Mark came forward, scooping you up in his arms and carrying you back inside. Jackson followed as the primary protector, while Jinyoung turned to the woods, let his head fall back, and howled to the winds.

Days passed.

You slept between Jackson’s furry outstretched paws. He lay himself in a crescent, shielding you with his massive body. Little pulses of magic would touch you when you least expected, and each time you would smile.

“Hi, little one,” you would whisper, knowing life had blossomed in your womb and your magic was pumping into their veins.

On the fifth day, you sat complacently in Jinyoung’s lap as he poured over yet another novel. His hands were warm and soft as they held you to him and you considered his chest to be your favorite pillow.

Then, your eyes snapped open. A scent tickled your nose.

Jinyoung grunted when you leapt off of him, watching you race to the back door. He began to call after you until he picked up on the scent too.

Smiling, you barreled outside in time to see the ebony wolf emerge from the trees. He took a single glance at you and groaned, warping in place until Jaebeom stood where the beast had been.

He was tired, that much was certain, but healing with every passing moment. You descended the stairs, eyes glistening with tears.

“Hello, alpha,” you greeted tenderly.

Jaebeom approached, scanning you from head to toe. You were a sight for sore eyes. Without warning, you took his face in your hands and kissed him deep. He was surprised at your eagerness at first, but collapsed into your embrace, relieved to be home at last.

The two of you broke away to look into each other’s eyes. Unspoken words passed between you and him. Then, you guided his hand to the soft plane of your belly.

Jaebeom froze in place.

“Do you sense it?” you asked gently.

Jaebeom had been so enraptured by you that he hadn’t yet noticed the tiny presence within you. Your scent had always been so strong, so powerful for an alpha female, but another scent was flourishing inside of yours. He pressed his broad hand to your stomach and tears pricked his eyes.

“I feel...,” he murmured, voice trembling.

You stroked your hand up and down his arm in comfort.

Jaebeom nuzzled your nose with his own, pressing his forehead to yours, and whispered, “I feel our baby.”

You smiled.

chapter 17 ⇤ chapter 18 ⇥ chapter 19

Hey there, beautiful! If you enjoyed this, please leave a like or reblog or follow me! Or maybe buy me a coffee so I can keep writing? Or check out my masterlist here for more stories! Thanks for reading :) - Katya

This work is fictional and for entertainment purposes only, but is licensed and protected under a creative commons attribution-noncommercial-noderivatives 4.0 international license. Any instances of plagiarism will be dealt with accordingly. Do not re-post or translate without my permission.

#got7 fanfiction #got7 au #jaebum smut #got7 smut #got7 wolf au #jaebum au #got7 imagine #got7 scenario #got7 reaction #got7 fanfic #jaebum fanfiction #jaebum fanfic

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indiavolowetrust · 5 years ago

Note

I haven’t gotten through all your posts yet, so if you’ve done similar I’m sorry just ignore this. But, what do you think about getting the demon bros to play twister? I’d love to see some twister or similar game HCs.

Thanks for submitting an ask, love! I haven’t done this yet (or even thought of this, to be honest), so thank you for the refreshing request! ;-)

Levi Brings in a Cool New Human Game HC: Exactly what it says on the tin. Levi brings a human game to family game night (?) in hopes of getting closer to MC (you). This does not go as planned.

LUCIFER

He’s much too good for this ... whatever this thing is. What kind of degenerate would ever think that such a simple activity would be fun? Or useful? Or in any way worthy of his time? He barely suppresses a scoff when Levi brings out the game.

It is only because of your excitement that he acquiesces to playing the game. This is all for the sake of Lord Diavolo’s exchange program. This could easily be classed as a sort of cultural exchange.

Absolutely refuses to remove his shoes and gloves to play the game, no matter what hindrance they may pose.

Only begins to enjoy the game without irony after half an hour of getting physically close to you, a few blunders involving you falling on top of him, and more than a few accidental feels -- all of which he would never admit to. He’s much too arrogant for that.

And, of course, there is also the satisfaction of knowing that he is the one that allowed this to happen. Truly, he is the reason for your enjoyment.

MAMMON

He isn’t too keen on the game at first. He’s a busy guy, y’know -- always got a scheme to plan out, a business to run, and a modeling contract to do. He doesn’t have time for stuff like this.

And then he sees your excitement upon catching sight of the game -- it is a reminder of the human world, after all -- and all of those sentiments are immediately thrown to the wind. If it’s a game his human wants, then it’s a game his human gets. The Great Mammon will be sure of that (and be sure to try to win to impress his human)!

It gets to his head. Levi has to repeat the rules a few times and reinstate them to make sure Mammon is playing correctly. Cue a few arguments between Mammon and the brothers over the course of the game.

The super tsundere demon accidentally cops a feel and dies on the inside. Of happiness. By the time the game is finished, he’s about as red as a beet. Flushed, flustered, embarrassed -- whatever you might call it, Mammon is certainly all of those things and more.

You’re his human, you know that? He is the Avatar of Greed, after all. Anything he considers his is his, and you are no exception. He wants more of you (and so ends up accidentally / not-accidentally getting closer to you throughout the night).

LEVIATHAN

Our genre-savvy demon is aware of what happens in anime: the anime protagonist gets to get closer physically and romantically to his interest, may have accidental touching, and wins over the affections of his interest just slightly through showing how fun they are through the game.

He does much research through Akuzon reviews, Reddit threads, forums, and other reliable (?) sources. And through anime, of course. He presents the game to his brothers under the pretense of wanting to try a new interned fad, despite knowing that you obviously are aware that that isn’t the case. You say nothing.

Gets more and more jealous as the game goes on. As he is the one who had insisted on playing the game, the brothers insist that he’s the one who should call out the colors. Much to his envy, he gets to watch his brothers get closer to you over the course of the night.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair! Why do they get to get so close to you? And why does that idiot have to make it so obvious?

May end the night in a jealous rampage. May not. Depends.

SATAN

He could spend the rest of the night reading his book. He’d much rather do that, actually, instead of playing whatever Levi has brought out on the table. Just witnessing Lucifer’s glance towards you in your excitement -- damn him, damn him, damn him -- makes him ultimately decide to play the game.

It’s fun at first. Really. He has another interest in experiencing this game, as it is one that has been mentioned once or twice in his books, but it’s the smile that the game brings to your face that makes him truly happy. Childish, yes, but wholly enjoyable. This is alright.

And then he notices his brothers cop a feel once or twice. Accidentally and not accidentally. Despite his closeness to Asmo, couldn’t the lustful demon be a little more subtle? Couldn’t Lucifer wipe that prideful grin off his face for once?

Unsurprisingly, he gets in an argument with Lucifer over the most seemingly inane of topics. May or may not end in a full-out brawl with one or more of his brothers, considering his incited wrath. Be prepared to run.

ASMODEUS

A human game! How lovely! And what an interesting way to get close to you in so, so many ways. He is one of the few that immediately agrees to the game, much to Lucifer’s disappointment.

As expected, he makes good on his self-made promise. Accomplishes touching you in almost every “accidental” way possible, chooses the spots near you specifically just to do so, and ignores just how difficult they might be. Much to your surprise, Asmo is very, very flexible.

It certainly helps that he’s quite a bit more limber and more slender than his brothers -- a fact that allows him to contort his body in an impressive number of ways. You remark on this, and he answers with a flirtatious wink and comment. Suggests you two try this out later, if you’d like. Don’t you want to try this in a more --

A brawl starts almost immediately, which is unsurprising given the tension that has been building up over the past hour. Asmo somehow manages to evade the brawl, takes you by the hand, and runs off with you to some other part of the House of Lamentation.

BEELZEBUB

Gets bribed into playing the game with food. He doesn’t really care otherwise. The promise of fried bat, scorpion, and hellfire rolled mushroom cookies is more than enough to convince him, and you even tack on the addition of a chocolate from your hidden cache of snacks as extra. A thank you for indulging in such a nostalgic human game for you.

Gets distracted halfway through the game and ends up sneaking off to the kitchen (where he knows no one will be at the moment because of the current activity). Comes back to a full-out brawl between more than a few of his brothers and subsequently attempts to stop them. It doesn’t take long to stop them, given his immense strength, but it’s still a damper on the evening.

In exchange for stopping them and keeping the peace, however, he is offered even more food as a reward. While he does wonder where you and Asmo are, he decides to partake in the food reward first. You’ve probably had your share of excitement, as is.

BELPHEGOR

Doesn’t participate in the game at all. Evenings are for napping, nights are for sleeping, and mornings are for sleeping in. Don’t his brothers understand that? They seem preoccupied with the game after a while, and so he simply walks back to his own room to take a nap.

There is a brawl downstairs sometime during the night. He doesn’t even stir.

Wakes up the next morning to find quite the aftermath.

#obey me!#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me hcs #obey me hc #obey me headcanons #obey me headcanon #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #ask #obey me ask #asks

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heliosthegriffin · 4 years ago

Text

Establishing Dominance

“Fearless Leader! I challenge you over leadership of team JNPR, accept or forever be a nerd!” Nora shouts at Jaune from on top of the lunch table, standing on his lunch, absolutely ruining Jaune’s nuggies.

Murmurs overtook the cafeteria at her proclamation, it was bold challenge indeed and one if ignored would permanently label Jaune as a nerd. Many people looked at Jaune as if he would bolt from the cafeteria in fear or as if he would crack immediately and surrender the title of leader to Nora so that he may not face her wrath, not that many would blame him, Nora hits hard. But to their surprise, Jaune merely smirked at her challenge, a new wave of murmurs rippling outward.

Jaune had been anticipating it for weeks that Nora would challenge him for leadership of team JNPR, so he wasn’t surprised she had finally did so. He wasn’t surprised she wanted to be Leader, it could be pretty fun at times and he saw how much she wanted to be Queen of the team , he was also pretty sure she wanted that crown he made of twigs, twine and, duct tape he wore in his spare time.

“Very well Nora, consider your challenge accepted.” Jaune said with a warm, smooth confidence.

Nora rocked back as if struck, not expecting this level of nonchalance from her friend and leader. Sure, she knew he would accept her challenge, he had far too much pride not too. But, for him to smile and welcome it? It threw her off guard.

A beaming smile came easily though, this just made it all more exciting.

“Very well, soon to be Fearful of me Leader, I will await in the Emerald forest for you, be there or be square!”

“Count on, it Nora.” Between the eyes of the blond and the ginger, one could swear they saw lightning hopping between them.

Ren signed tiredly, and Pyrrha looked torn between blushing at Jaune’s sudden confidence, and smiling warmly at Nora’s antics.

Yang was watching intently on the two, Ruby looked anxious, Weiss looked on wondering how her life became so insane, and Blake was already writing in her notebook.

The challenge was a serious matter, one he wasn’t letting it go without a fight, he worked really hard on the Crown of Juniper and he’d be damned if some upstart took it from him! ... And, he was the only one with leadership skills out of the four of them, he guessed. There was also the matter of Nora getting bored by afternoon and hand the reigns back over to him, but that would still be most of a day with Nora in charge of team JNPR, and while he may love that insane girl he did not want to clean up the mess after letting her lead.

What did surprise him was the fact she had waited long enough for him to find his semblance before challenging him, that was kind of her. Too, bad he was all out of mercy today. The Crown was his and his alone!

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Jaune and Nora stared at each other, standing twenty feet apart from each other in a dirt circle thirty feet in diameter. Surrounding them was a crowd of people who turned out to watch them.

Jaune stood tall and proudly with his hair moving in the faint breeze, with the way the sun hit his face he could have been confused for a warrior-prince of old. Though, it was to be noted, only thing covering his body was a baby blue robe.

Nora faced Jaune with her arms crossed somehow managing to look down on him despite nearly being a foot and half shorter. Her turquoise eyes glittering with mischief like a the old Trickster spirits of old. Interestingly enough, she too only wore a robe, hers a pretty cherry blossom pink.

Goodwitch, and Winter Schnee, stood facing the two juggernauts of personality that were her students.

“Strip!” The two yelled out unison.

With that the robes dropped, and the crowd went wild, as nothing could obscure their sight of the Nora and Jaunes naked bodies any longer.

Pyrrha, Velvet, Coco, Ruby, and so many others turned red in the face screaming in ecstasy. The level of excitement in the crowd could not be measured by mere words.

Ren was taking a nap in the dorm, Weiss was sleeping with him; White Lotus for life, Bitches!

Goodwitch and Winter then held up their hands silencing the crowd, and said together, “FOR THE LOVE OF THE GAME!” Holding up a bottle of baby oil.

Goodwitch approached Jaune with a maniac look in her eyes and Winter Schnee did the same to Nora. Using their semblances they covered each and every inch of the two’s superhuman physiques! Making them glisten and glow in the sunlight, highlighting their beauty to a godly extent!

Many in the crowd could no longer take it and fainted on the spot, in fact so vast was the spell put on them, even those in Mistral, Atlas, and Vacuo trembled in ecstasy knowing something freaking hot was happening. Half the crowd then fainted, Pyrrha and Ruby were just one of the many casualties.

Winter and Glynda scurried quickly out of the arena to join the screaming masses as the Jaune and Nora began stretching, knowing their job done.

Nora rolled her shoulders, hopping in place. “Last chance to back out, Jaune. I won’t think any less of you.”

Jaune arched his back, his hands on his hips, stretching till he heard a gratifying pop. “Oh? Is that mercy from the queen, I hear? How rare. I’m afraid I have to refuse,” Jaunes eyes narrowed a Nora’s own. “A king never backs down.”

Nora’s smile could cut a man down. “Oh well, I tried.” And then she crushed two apple sized lightning dust crystals in her hands, lightning dancing across her body, eyes and hair which shot up like a middle finger to gravity, and she shivered in masochistic pleasure. “Oh yeah, that’s the stuff.” She cracks her neck. “When I win, I’m snorting that shit off your dick!”

Jaune stomps a foot down, a shock-wave sending dust flying away from him, as he squared up, his aura flaring as he amped up it up. “Don’t threaten me with a good time Nora, you’ll just make me fight harder~”

“Hehehe,” Then with a crack of thunder, the ground where Nora once stood crumpled, a series of foot prints broke the ground in a straight towards Jaune before Nora blurred into sight before Jaune throwing a right jab at his jaw!

Jaune however felt more than saw her, as his aura dangled a spider thin thread of awareness of where Nora was coming. Tilting his head to the side avoiding the jab, and then bringing up his left arm to block her left cross.

He put up his guard as she had him on the defensive, as Nora sent a avalanche of jabs to prod his defense. He felt her tiny, dense hands hit his aura clad arms like a automatic shotgun! Each blow sending him inching ever so slightly back.

But, his defense held, no matter the number of punches she could send, she couldn’t break his defense yet! So he waits and watched for her to over extend.

Nora felt a flash of danger in her aura sense, and jumped back over ten feet just as Jaune nearly grabbed her wrist, a move that would have left her at the mercy of his superior reach.

Jaune saw his chance and rushed Nora, sending his own valley of jabs, but keeping the superior range of his arms in account to send punches that put him a much lower risk than she was by staying out of her reach.

Nora chose to block the first set of jabs, and instantly regretted it, as Jaune may have been much slower than Nora sending out maybe one punch per five of her own, his superior range, mass, and aura amplification let him hit almost five times harder than her! Each of his hands glowing with primordial light, each hit releasing a shock wave of sheer force, each punch feeling like a artillery shell from an Atlas Warship, and they only grew harder to endure as she could feel Jaune’s aura amping higher and higher.

Nora made a tactical decison to keep herself in the fight, and let one punch hit her downward into the chest, just as she leaned back and jumped! She was launched across the arena, but that’s what she wanted, to get space.

She wiped out across the dirt, but soon regained control, and clawed her hands into the dirt and pulled herself into a crouch. She focused her electric power and her semblance, shifting her allocation of power from strength to speed, stamina, and reflexes. She just couldn’t hit hard enough to fight Jaune on equal ground without Magnihild, but weapons weren’t allowed in Leadership Challenges, but she could definitely out speed him and possibly, out last him, and if nothing else leverage her superior fighting experience to win.

Jaune felt more than saw her change in stance, as a gust of wind hit him and with it what felt like a thousand hits to his solar plexus. A gasp was forced out him, as his amped up danger sense could no longer keep track of Nora. He re-speced near instantly and put his perception into defense, he couldn’t keep track of Nora and defend against at the same time. He crouched and guarded letting her hit like a lightning.

But, so what if she was lightning? He’d be the earth that grounded her!

He could feel her chipping away at his aura, even as he amped its regeneration. He smiled with pride, but knew he couldn’t play defensive forever. She’d wear him down.

Nora hit him with everything she had, making sure to hit consecutively in the same spot so he’d really feel it. But, it didn’t feel like she was making a real dent in his reserves. Then she saw it, a slight tremble in his left calf.

She lunged forward and kick his tree trunk of leg a dozen-dozen times, then it went flying like she wanted. Jaune’s body leaving the earth, she smirked, didn’t matter how good your defense was, if you’re in the air you’re at gravity's mercy, and gravity is a bitch.

Nora got behind him and put her power into strength again and let him have it. Throwing him up sky high, Jaune disappearing like a twinkling star. That wasn’t the end of it thought, and Nora shattered the ground following him up.

Jaune never knew the Emerald forest was so pretty from a couple thousand feet up, but you learn something knew everyday. But, what he did know is that Nora would follow up that assault with something gruesome. So he re-amped his awareness, by twice, by tens times, by hundreds times, by a thousand! Then he felt it that the spider thread awareness widening into an almost prescience level of knowledge as he knew not saw where Nora was coming from.

He could laugh, that it was her throwing him up here that gave him the chance to actually track her. He followed the threads of awareness, and looked above as Nora tried to hit him with a spinning double axe kick to his head.

He caught her by the feet the moment gravity renewed her hold on the two, he gave her a wink, and as they fell he spun her by the feet faster and faster till he let her go, sending her down with a air shattering shock wave.

Nora hit the ground like a ginger meteor and she crumpled prone the last vestiges of semblance going out, her hair falling down, and a shock wave knocking over unfortunate watchers.

They wouldn’t get a chance to get back up soon, as Jaune landed on Nora with a shockwave as Jaune mounted her stomach, a hand cocked back.

“Still want to fight to be leader?” Jaune asked smiling, a glowing hand cocked.

“Nope!” Nora said cheerfully. “Maybe later~, but, that was the most fun I’ve had since I got here!”

“That’s great Nora!” Jaune said getting up. “Now is there anybody else that wants to fight me for leadership of team JNPR?”

“Yeah, I do!” Yang yelled out, striping out of her clothes, showing off two double DD’s.

“Me too!” Coco said stripping in tandem.

“Oh, whys that?” Jaune asks.

“Well you can’t strip naked, and fight, then leave! We came here to watch y’all fuck! Now you’re going to leave us blue balled! Oh, hell no!” Yang says, while Coco nods.

“Then come get some!” Jaune said still naked and glistening!

AN: I had fun writing this. The original idea was Jaune and Nora getting oiled up and a wrestling, but it somehow turned into this.

#Jaune Arc Crack #Nora Valkyrie.

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fifteenleads · 4 years ago

Text

amīcitia

Chaos amidst order, like fire burning water itself.

All in all, a dire situation, Osamu muses. He means not to wax poetic, but there is a certain beauty, too, in sheer madness.

His grip on the floating plank tightens, willing his weakened biceps to work with him, even as the rest of his submerged body shakes in earnest in the freezing river water below. The dark clouds overhead thicken as lightning strikes the distant altar; the Hydraean is not pleased with Ryuunosuke, and the result of that displeasure is the destruction of Altissia.

While First Secretary Ango had promised protection for the Oracle for the Rite of the Summoning, he did not extend the same to the fallen Prince and his deplorable retinue, who will actually face the Trial and receive the Astral's blessing for it. It was an unfair deal Ryuu accepted, regardless— nothing else mattered to him, so long as his betrothed is kept safe.

A laughable sentiment— Ryuu never considers Lady Kouyou as anything but an estranged older sister, yet he remains utterly devoted to her, nonetheless. Their shared grief over the loss of Kyouka during the Siege of Tenebrae had bonded them in a twisted but tragic understanding to do everything it takes to survive.

It was the only principle Ryuu swore to live by as they embarked on their journey to reclaim Lucis from the Empire— his last order to them, in fact, before everything began and went to hell.

An order, it seems, he won’t be able to see through to the end, as Imperial soldiers stare him down, like vicious hunters to helpless game, trapped without any form of escape.

Osamu considers his limited options at this point— the most logical one would be to swim away, let himself get swept by the unnaturally strong current down the major canals into the open bay. Ango had mentioned something about boats in the briefing; maybe he could commandeer one of them and make his way to the altar post-haste. The other, more impulsive one, is to muster the little strength left in his thin, untrained arms, and teach these glorified lapdogs a lesson in humility for daring to underestimate a half-dead Crownsguard with only raw intellect and an uncanny secretarial experience to show for it.

To be fair, though, he did take combat training with Kunikida seriously— or, at least, as much as what was expected of him at bare minimum. Those lectures on ‘ideals’ and ‘expectations’ didn’t rub off him as much as they both would have wanted, but who needed physical prowess when he had aptitude for harnessing the King's magic?

That sentiment now bites him hard in the back, with the King long-dead and the Prince, too, now feared dead. ‘Don’t blame me when you’re all alone out there, Dazai.’

A small voice in his head tells him to just let go of the plank and let himself sink— a lot easier for everyone, by far.

Osamu levels his would-be executioners with an unnaturally serene gaze. With more than half of the city destroyed by Divine Wrath and the remainder plunged in utter chaos, it wouldn’t be surprising if a member of the Lucian Prince’s entourage winds up dead or permanently incapacitated at this point. Atsushi would probably sense it— he did always have the strongest affinity with the Armiger, probably more than its actual owner, Ryuu himself. Kunikida, who’s always had his back since they were children, would just know — theirs was an unconventional partnership, enough to overturn propriety and station twice over, and then some.

And Ryuunosuke— His Royal Highness, whom he is tasked to protect and mentor— Osamu feels genuine regret at the prospect of leaving his young charge to face the rest of his life alone, all because of a fleeting moment of cowardice. He had been looking forward to teasing Ryuu at his wedding as one of the royal groomsmen, too, but that certainly isn’t happening now.

He closes his eyes and lets go, one finger at a time. Everything around him slows down— the rumble of explosives, the clap of thunder, the sound of gunfire, then—

— the shrill of a drawn blade, followed by two thuds and a loud splash, and Osamu feels himself being pulled to safety and roughly thrown onto the pavement. He barely has time to process the dead soldiers beside him before he feels a strong kick to his gut.

“I’ve always heard that the brat Prince’s shady advisor is an impossible man, but I never expected him to be this much of a mess,” intones a cocky, nasal voice from above him. Osamu looks up at his unwilling savior by instinct, and instantly resists the temptation to laugh. It seems that the rumors about the High Commander of the Imperial Army being a Napoleon are actually quite accurate, after all.

Osamu immediately rises to his full height, dispensing with any courteous gestures right off the bat; his head bows and knee bends to no one else but his own Liege. “I suppose this is the part where I express my deepest gratitude for saving this worthless life, Lord Chuuya Kashimura Nakahara, High Commander of the Imperial Army of Niflheim, First Prince of the Imperial Province of Tenebrae, younger brother to Lady Kouyou Tokutarou Ozaki, Venerable Oracle of the Six.” He cocks his head to a side, as if to ask if he had missed anything.

The recitation of his full title elicits the desired effect, and Lord Chuuya comes at him with full force, roughly grabbing Osamu by his dress collar and yanking him down to his level. “Do not speak Sister’s name with that plummy voice of yours, Lucian scum. It is your royal brat’s selfishness and naivete that brought her into this whole mess.”

A mess which, until now, he still has yet to forgive, Osamu does not say, looking directly into those clear eyes, blue as the sky, yet burns brightly like fire. For a moment, he thinks he is looking into Lady Kouyou’s eyes, deep red as the sunset, yet calms gently like water. It is the only differing trait between the two half-siblings, as they share everything else like copies of each other, from the bright salmon of their hair to the sharp angle of their jaw, down to the unwavering pride with which they carried themselves as heirs to the Royal House of Tenebrae, even as they were abruptly orphaned, deposed, and held captive as political prisoners, acting in the interests of the Empire against their will.

Lord Chuuya, it seems, still retains that fire of rebellion within him, just as Lady Kouyou still holds the quiet spark of revolution close to her heart. It makes Osamu relieved, in all honesty— ‘He still holds you in high regard, Your Majesty.’

“What are you grinning about, Advisor?” The Crusading Prince spits out at him, his voice dropping several octaves as the grip on his collar tightens in all earnest. Osamu widens the space between his lips a little further in response, before finally deigning to reply, “Nothing at all, Your Highness. I am merely amused at how the Imperial Raiment hardly suits your frame at all.” There is no lie in this, either; the stiff, white robes marking one to be from the Empire are made to appear large and imposing— neither of which befits Lord Chuuya’s lithe form at all. Still, he manages to make it work, somehow, and make the outfit his own, in more ways than one.

There is a short silence as Lord Chuuya considers his words, before Osamu feels the tight sensation around his throat loosen and he remembers to breathe once more. “Enough of this farce. We merely waste time here,” the Prince huffs indignantly before brusquely turning in the other direction. “You are coming with me, Lucian Advisor. We find my Sister and that royal brat of yours.”

Lord Chuuya does not give Osamu time to assent, instead trudging ahead along the ruined walkway, angrily kicking the stones along the path. Osamu could sense palpable anger from his hunched form, and the growing urgency and desperation from beneath it. He is reminded of Kunikida’s forcefulness for a moment, and it makes him want to hold on to his life just a little longer for now.

‘You must survive,’ Ryuunosuke had told each of them, coal eyes burning with grief and rage as they watched Insomnia be consumed from the far outside, with no way back in. ‘Promise me.’

“As you wish, Your Highness.” Osamu puts his hands in his pockets, slowly moving forward until he falls into step with Lord Chuuya. Time, too, flows normally once more— the rush of the river current, the crackle of boots on gravel, the howling of a far-away tempest, then—

— a slight pause, followed by a deal to start a partnership, as unconventional as the last. A temporary truce, too, for so long as they have loved ones they cherish and wish to keep safe. “If we’re doing this properly, Your Highness, you might want to know your companion’s name as early as now, just so we can coordinate our attacks properly later, should the need arise.” Osamu follows with a smirk, for added measure— surely, someone who serves in the military should recognize the benefit of the practical suggestion.

Lord Chuuya merely raises an eyebrow incredulously. “What the hell are you talking about? Of course I know your name, Osamu Dazai,” he says in a much more relaxed tone, the sudden use of informal language momentarily throwing Osamu for a loop. A snort leaves his lips before he could stop himself, which soon blows into low, controlled chuckles as he turns away, clutching his sides with one hand and covering his mouth with the other.

Annoyance creeps into the Prince’s voice once more as he questions the sudden fit. “What’s so funny, Dazai?” It takes Osamu a full minute to calm down as he wipes tears of laughter from his eyes. “Nothing at all, Your Highness— or, should I call you Nakahara instead?” he offers, as if to return the unexpected courtesy granted him.

There is hesitation in Lord Chuuya’s stilted movements as he raises a hand to the back of his head, absentmindedly threading the long, red mane there, still dripping wet from the rescue earlier. “... Call me ‘Chuuya’,” he asks instead, looking away, a slight flush on his cheeks. “Only the Niffs call me Nakahara. It makes me feel… quite uncomfortable.”

‘Do forgive him his rudeness,’ Lady Kouyou had apologized for him long before. ‘He is actually quite a gentle child.’

Osamu smiles at the memory, noting all of these things in Chuuya and more. ‘Indeed, he is. You must be proud of him, Princess Kouyou.’

It was the most beautiful smile he had ever seen, befitting only her alone: ‘I indeed am.’

“Very well, Chuuya, since you doth insist so much,” Osamu complies, raising his tone to that of the plummy impersonation the Napoleon Prince hates so much, “but blame me not if I end up calling you names you might dislike. Consider yourself warned.”

The well-placed taunt elicits the desired effect, and Osamu merrily skips on ahead, effortlessly dodging Chuuya’s attempts to stick his daggers into his back. It’s a much easier feat than drowning himself, by far, and surviving seems a lot more bearable now.

Hope amidst despair, like sunlight dispelling the darkness.

All in all, a fortunate circumstance, Osamu muses. He means not to wax poetic, but there is a certain beauty, too, in subdued contentment.

#bungou stray dogs #soukoku #skk #dachuu #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #final fantasy xv AU #episode ignis AU #ignis!dazai #ravus!chuuya #first meeting #platonic / romantic compliant

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fc5holidayexchange · 5 years ago

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'Fool Me Thrice'

John Seed x Deputy C. C. Black, Setting aside their differences for some heart to heart.

@johnsrevelation

'Hey there! Your deputy was so much fun to write for! I can see why John is crazy about her! I hope I captured her fire well for you!'

Fluff, Inner Conflict, Mischief

What is a name, save for an identification of ourselves? Save for a title, a moniker, a nom de guerre or a nom de plume?

A name holds a lot of power. A fae who knows your name can use it against you. Rumpelstiltskin and Beetlejuice are summoned and defeated by their names.

Names carry weight.

Names carry purpose.

And isn’t he a chameleon? Hasn’t he worn his own names and titles like coats and hats to suit his needs?

Duncan. Seed. Baptist. Inquisitor. Herald. Brother.

John.

But hers… hers is a mystery.

That god damned deputy and her metaphorical carrot on a stick.

It shouldn’t be much to ask, shouldn’t be a hard question for Deputy Black to answer. But he's… he's been trying for months to pry it out of her. It's almost a game, now. Like cat and mouse, like temptation extended on a silver spoon only to be yanked away with a chastising click of the tongue.

Just last week, wasn’t she perched right here on the arm of his couch, where he's leaning now? Shapely legs crossed, head held high, that haughty smirk on those plump lips, vehemently denying anything but her first initials. At this point, John asks just because he can. Because it's second nature. Because somehow after all they've hurled at each other in this holy war, C.C. Black still answers his midnight calls and still bothers to pay him visits at the ranch.

She prances around Holland Valley absolutely obliterating all the good work he and his people have put into preparing for the Collapse. Hell, just yesterday she took a couple explosives to the YES sign on the road near his ranch. Perhaps a precursor to something bigger. Something he'll make her rebuild all on her own, and then bury her under, if she takes it down. Something-

“John Seed? Over?” the radio on his coffee table squawks.

John has to fight himself not to reach out and snatch it up as urgently as possible at the sound of that familiar voice.

“Ah… Deputy Black,” he breathes into the receiver, trying to ignore that anxious clenching in his chest, “to what do I owe the honor? I thought we’d broken up after you torched my little sign. Was I mistaken?”

“I'll make you a proposition-….” comes her response, and then… Nothing. Silence.

“…Deputy?” he forces himself into something cool, detached.

No need to sound like he's been waiting all damn day for a call from her. (No need to admit that he has been.)

Seconds tick by. Minutes.

“C.C…?”

“Sorry bout that. Had to get my sights lined up,” she finally, mercifully responds and-

“Your what?” John instinctively ducks, his eyes darting to any window in sight, “finally coming to kill me, dear?”

“Yes…” she tastes the word.

Savors it. Draws it out with such fervor that…

No. Oh no.

Oh no no.

“This sign’s pretty big John. How'd you get it all built all the way up here? Tulip should be able to knock it right back down real-"

“Deputy, I'd strongly advise you not to lay a finger on that trigger,” he blurts, seething through his teeth, “unless you’re willing to suffer those consequences personally.”

Silence again.

She is testing him.

John finds himself vaulting up from the couch, radio clutched so tightly in his hand he can hear the casing creak in protest. He's off like a shot towards the door before his thoughts can catch up to his feet. If he can get Affirmation in the air soon, he can catch up to her quick enough to spare any major damage. If she'll only just wait a little, let him stall for time.

“I dunno, Seed, looks like it's itching for some bullet holes. Like a clean canvas. Which letter do I start with?” there is a haughty smirk in her voice as she interjects, drawing John to a stumbling halt.

Against all better logic in his brain he stands stock still, seething and teetering with frenetic, anxious energy. Needs to move, needs to go, needs to get her before she makes a big mistake. Tempest of a woman, Hell of a deputy. Pride suits her just as well as wrath does, clearly. He’ll wring that neck himself. He'll tie her down and keep her stuffed in the bunker if it means keeping her out of so much fucking trouble!

“Deputy. Do not. Touch my sign. Do you hear me? Do you understand?” he barks into the radio, shoulders tense, looking for all the world like he may as well combust where he stands.

“What. No more midnight visits?” she says, and-

That voice didn't come from the radio.

Before he can whip himself around to face the source of that crooning voice, she's on him. Arms locked around his midsection, drawing him in tight against her body. Her face pressed into his shoulder, her fingers digging into his stomach. And all he can do is sag in her grasp as all the adrenaline gusts out of him like a tide receding, leaving only mild irritation in its wake.

John should not be so relieved to feel this grasp, to know who's managed to sneak right up behind him with his guard down. And yet she's got her capable hands wrapped so tightly round his heart that even the warmth of her against his back has his pulse askitter.

“Gotcha,” is all she has to breathe into his shirt to get the goosebumps rising on his arms.

“I should throttle you. Should hold you down and carve your pride right into you,” he seethes, but there is no malice in his voice.

“Mm, but you won’t. You're so gullible John,” C.C. snickers as she tightens her fists in the fabric of his shirt, “it's like you don’t trust me or something.”

Oh, and he doesn’t. Not truly, anyway. Not when the woman can’t even give him her own name. Not when she leads him along like this only to turn right back around again and go on fucking up his region. But here he is, weak at the knees and already forgetting all about her transgressions and her latest prank, if only to make space for thoughts of what this night will bring for them now that she’s here.

She seems to have the same idea, for when he doesn’t get a response out in time, the deputy releases him. She grasps his bicep, whirls him around, and effortlessly leads him, dumbfounded, to the couch he’d been perched on moments ago. Probably still warm where he’d been lounging.

“Perhaps I don’t trust you, Wrath, because you seem to have fun cavorting around Holland Valley – and nowhere else recently, mind you – ruining all that I've worked for?” he finds his voice in his rising irritation that settles so comfortably next to his giddiness, a foreign pairing of feelings.

“You say that every time I show up here, in more or less eloquent words,” she snorts, pushing him down into the cushions and standing over him, and God she's stunning in this light.

Well, she's always stunning.

“And yet you continue to jam your fingers under every little button of mine.”

Before she can retort, John’s hands are on her, tugging her right down into his lap where she feels most familiar. Strong legs on either side of him, her arms coming to snare around his neck, this…

This is precisely where she belongs.

His heart is aloft any damn time she's with him. Like a hard reset on his brain, he so easily forgets what kind of woman she is outside the security of his ranch. All thoughts become her, become want, become need, become-

“I love you, John-"

Oh.

…

“…John?”

C.C.’s gentle hand under his chin brings him back to reality, where she threads her fingers through his beard and gently pushes to close his gaping mouth.

“Well that’s… out of left field don't you think?” is all he can get out, even as his pounding pulse threatens to consume him alive, “you can’t just walk in here after giving me a coronary and take the liberty of saying something like that when I'm inclined to not believe you, deputy.”

“Hey you don't have to love me back,” she shrugs, putting up a wall though he can still trace the faint ache in her eyes at his lack of response, “not gonna break my heart that way.

Her hands fall to settle on his shoulders, and he feels her squeeze him, tracing her gaze over his face as he admires the lines of hers. The corners of her lips twitch softly, subtly, tugging at a smile, or perhaps something more to say, but she remains silent as ever. She's always been good at that, if only when she needs to be. Like now, clearly. Stubborn woman, trying to tug the emotions right out of him and into the open air between them.

And instead, John speaks in actions, winding his arms around her and tugging her down to collide the spaces that divide them. Chest to chest, her thundering heartbeat pounding against his sternum, betraying her heightened emotions. C.C. tucks her head into his shoulder as he threads his fingers through her long hair, and like this, he is whole. He has everything he needs.

Out there they’d fight tooth and nail. Hell, tomorrow morning they'll be right back to the old bullshit again. He damn well can’t just set aside their differences when Deputy Black is so insistent on fucking up his hard work for the resistance.

But John Seed is nothing if not a fool, all because of her.

And damnit, he'll fall right back into her arms again the next time. Always has, always will.

“John-"

He grumbles some non-affirmative to hush her as he tucks his face in her shoulder, breathing in the smell of her hair. Of Holland Valley on her, the trees and grasses and wildflowers. Gunpowder and smoke and purest her. Chaos on two legs, keeper of his heart.

“I love you too.”

It's her turn to stiffen, something he delights in, and her fingertips dig into his skin as she comes to tighten her hold on him. The two of them may as well be one person, tightly as they’re tangled and carefree as they are.

“Really?” she whispers, just barely a breath, as he lifts his head to press kiss after kiss to her hair, her cheek, her shoulder, anything he can reach.

“Really."

#john seed/deputy #deputy oc #john seed #fluff #mischief #inner conflict #gift: fic #fc5holidayexchange #johnsrevelation #submission

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whatdoyouexpectthistime · 5 years ago

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Part 1: Pride or Clan

“Your father has fallen, My Lord,” a bloodied warrior desperately gasped, as he stumbled into the war encampment. “And the Xu Clan have pushed our forces back through the pass. We cannot hold much longer.”

Clenching his fist, Victor pushed his weary body up from the mat and stretched his aching muscles. With his father dead, the clan was entirely his responsibility – its lands, its resources, its people on the precipice of annihilation.

“Call a retreat,” he grated through his teeth, lips trembling over a sneer more frightening – his soldier thought – than even the enemy about to destroy them.

Striding toward where his warhorse was stomping its hooves in anticipation, Victor continue to bark orders, a dark storm of barely contained rage and loathing for his foe.

“Our remaining forces are to head east to the mountains,” he rumbled, effortlessly mounting his heavily armoured steed.

“East, My Lord?” the soldier queried, and the look Victor replied with nearly froze the air in his lungs. “But… but the mountains are Fujiwara territory.”

“Do you take me for a fool?” Victor growled icily, and the warrior’s eyes bugged.

“O… of course not, My Lord!” he exclaimed, in genuine fear for his life.

“Then do as I say,” Victor hissed. “I will hold them back as long as I can.”

Leaving the swiftly closing encampment in his wake, Victor pounded the most direct route to the front line. Before long, the landscape began to betray the horror he rode toward. Most of the corpses wore the colours of his clan. Still, they had fought valiantly despite their cold and lonely end, and the imminent demise of the Li family.

The clamorous refrain of war rose toward deafening as he topped the rise and cast his steely gaze across the expansive battlefield. For a moment he watched the chaos without focus, before narrowing his thoughts to a single point in the distance – a shape too far away to truly discern, and yet without a doubt the source of all the bloodshed.

“Lucien,” he snarled, then urged his horse directly into the carnage.

“How many?” Miho blinked, stalking down the hall with Gavin following at her right shoulder, soundless of step despite his size.

“I estimate no more than one thousand,” he answered. “And my sources confirm a smaller force drawing Xu forces north-west, but this is truly all that is left of the Li military not guarding Yongyuan.”

“So, misdirection and refuge then,” Miho snorted, tossing her head. “I wonder if old man Li is on his way to throw himself upon my mercy.”

“My spies reported he refused to withdraw from the field of battle, even when gravely wounded,” Gavin explained. “And died shrieking the wrath of his ancestors upon the Xu.”

“I did warn him,” Miho nodded gravely. “But what would a woman know?”

“Far more than most,” Gavin smirked, pausing as servants bowed before opening the doors of the great hall.

“Oh yes,” Miho grinned, heading for her position on the dais. “I hear all kinds of interesting information on the wind.”

Before the assembled warlords and ladies, Miho sat: back straight, expression grim, but eyes gleaming with confidence.

“The unconditional surrender of the Li army currently within our borders is a foregone conclusion,” she told the assembly. “Their defeat has left them in no condition to threaten us, and so it’s sanctuary they seek.”

“Should we not drive them out?” a croaky voice called out, and Miho looked to the scarred face of the man. “The Xu are not our enemy.”

“Are they not?” Miho frowned. “Lucien may not be storming our lands just yet, but only because he is occupied elsewhere. Do you really think he will cease his otherwise relentless march because the land is no longer Li? Because the blood is Fujiwara and kin?”

Silence.

“How quickly you forget it was this clan through my hand he sought,” she sniffed. “More quickly than Lucien will forget the insult of my rebuff, I guarantee,” she continued. “The Li were a target not of convenience, but strategy. Li Fu’s refusal to join an alliance with us notwithstanding, Lucien had to know driving his army across Li territory to force his dominance here, would not go unchallenged. Even with his power, he could never hope to destroy us both, but now…”

“Now, he doesn’t have to,” Gavin put in, and Miho inclined her head.

The nobles and ranking military were used to the Fujiwara Clan head’s ninja master speaking as if with her voice – she did not question it, and so neither did they.

“With the Li hanging by a tenuous thread, the Xu will come to us,” Miho inhaled, cracking her neck a little from side to side. “So, we have only to gain from accepting allies, even pitiful ones.”

____________________________________

Miho watched from the parapet of her cliff-side stronghold as a small contingent of Li warriors were escorted through the lower part of the town. At such a distance she couldn’t make out faces, but within moments, fleet-footed Gavin dropped down from the rooftop behind her.

“Many elders of their military leadership perished,” he told her. “Li Fu’s son made the decision to retreat.”

“I bet that stung,” she smiled, idly tapping her chin.

“If I may, My Lady, what do you intend?” Gavin enquired.

“I know what my father would have done,” she replied darkly, squinting a little as her guests drew closer. “But there has been enough darkness for one day.”

“Victor Li was quite wounded protecting the flank of his withdrawing forces,” Gavin mused airily. “He may yet die… and if he does…”

“If he does,” Miho interrupted, “we shall have to be prepared to fight Lucien ourselves.”

In the great hall, Miho finally awaited the arrival of the Li lord, and when he and his entourage entered, she was surprised at the extent of Victor’s injuries. Several arrows still protruded from him, his black robes were caked with blood, yet his face remained impassive. He was man who looked as if he’d defied the god of war and survived to tell the tale. What might have been long, raven locks, were tangled and caked with the filth of battle, and his blue-grey eyes were stormy with barely restrained hostility. The opulence of Miho’s fortress was everything he had lost, but his chin remained high, his posture straight and tall.

“My condolences on the death of your father, Lord Victor,” Miho greeted, even before those at Victor’s back had settled respectfully on their knees before her.

Though Victor remained on his feet.

“Perhaps my physician should tend to you before we commence,” Miho offered, hazel eyes meeting Victor’s heavy gaze in the middle.

Seconds passed in taut silence.

Victor had no ground, no power. If Miho willed it, they would all be dead before they could rise, yet the proud Li lord barely even blinked beneath Miho’s scrutiny.

“Very well,” Miho said evenly, maintaining a neutral expression, but when she did not add anything more, a suffocating tension pooled in the empty space between the two clan heads and began to strangle those around them.

Still, Victor stood.

A man in defeat, on the doorstep – in the hall – of a rival.

A prince staring at a princess surrounded by her court, her strength, her power.

And he had none.

Slowly, gracefully, Miho unfolded her legs and got to her feet, and her hands lifted to eventually rest upon her hips.

Expectation spoke up, though she did not.

The assertion, a command, was etched in the set of her lips, though they did not move.

Kneel.

Kneel before the Fujiwara: majesty, power, uncompromising dignity and martial prowess.

Kneel.

“When you and I were mere children,” Miho began, her tone tighter than before, “my father made yours an offer unity, of alliance. Your life and mine joined, our clans independent but bound by mutual purpose, ideals and respect, and do you know what Lord Li Fu did?”

He might have remembered, many of those in attendance did.

“He laughed, Miho filled in, eye narrowing. “Where you stand now, he laughed and declared the Li needed no one and would long outlive the Fujiwara. Laughed and said he needed no one.”

Everyone in the hall held their breath.

“What will you do?” Miho enquired, spreading her hands in a wide gesture. “What is worth more to the Li now? Ego? Or clan?”

Victor’s eyes fluttered closed, and he took a slow but laboured breath.

Then began to lower himself to his knees.

#mlqc #Mr. Love Queen's Choice #Victor #Lucien #Gavin #Miho #fanfiction #historical fantasy #Jazz'll be there too eventually #I think Kiro will be a ridiculously attractive palomino #Liana is probably ninja buddies with Gavin #elex #paper games

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thekitchensnk · 5 years ago

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and the spider lilies bloomed in the fall (chapter 7)

Rating: T Warnings: Violent imagery Pairing: Gin/Ran Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7 “They say that lovers doomed never to see each other again still see the higanbana growing along their path, even to this day.”

A girl collapses on a dusty road one day. A boy takes her home.

The girl lives.

—

(The boy doesn’t.)

She frowned in concentration, and her tongue stuck out from between her teeth. She stared with pin-point focus at the knife in her hands, her gaze absolutely ferocious and directed at the object of her wrath.

“Don’t move. Don’t move a muscle. Don’t. Even. Breath,” she gritted out.

Cold sweat coated the back of his neck.

“Nah, Ran-chan-“ Gin attempted, trying to placate her.

“No!” she shouted with determination. “I’ve got this. Don’t you dare.”

With a swish of the knife and a few colourful expletives, she cut carefully at the last of his lopsided, unevenly chopped hair.

“Aha! There,” she said with triumph, her hands on her hips. “All done. You should have a look at your reflection in the river. I’ve done a brilliant job, even if I say so myself.” She puffed up with pride and laughed magnificently. “The girls in town will be fighting after you.”

“Ya’ did say so ya’self,” he pointed out grumpily. “And have those hags in town after me? Thanks a bunch, Rangiku. Done me a real favour there.”

Her satisfaction was incorrigible, and her self-praise had known no bounds even then.

“You’re just being petulant because you cut it lopsided when you did it yourself, and you looked stupid for a whole week because you wouldn’t let me fix it. Face it, I’m the best and you’re the worst!” she sang.

“I was cuttin’ it with a knife!” he said defensively.

“So was I!”

That’s why he had been nervous to let her fix his hair, though he would never say as much out loud. Any man would be nervous with a sharp blade pointed at his neck. “Yeah, well-“ she had him cornered, and he knew it –“let’s see how well ya’ did, then. Can’t be possibly be worse than my job,” he muttered. “Pass me the water?”

She passed one of their water jugs obediently, and he traipsed outside with it. He found a level, flat stretch of rock, and poured the water out onto it. He went silent for a moment, reaching down into the dark plains where his power lay. He inhaled, and reached out for it, and instead of throwing it at the water and the rock, the way he had once done, he shaped it to his intent, feeling the contours and implications of the word frozen in his mind. Stillness, he thought. Fixed. Cold. He looked at the curve of the water, and imagined its fluidity.

The amorphous puddle in front of him froze slowly, and he exhaled in triumph.

Next to him, Rangiku whooped.

“That’s amazing! Have you been practicing?! When did you learn to do that?”

It had taken a degree of incredibly fine, precise control. The power they had loathed being shaped in such measured, purposeful ways. It was as if he was missing some element of the process, some set of commands or rules. The water would unfreeze in seconds, he knew- his power couldn’t really do ice- and so he bent quickly to look at himself in the ice.

There was nothing lopsided about his hair at all anymore. She had done a very good job, he had to admit it. He glared.

“Alright, ya’ win. Ya’ the hair cutting champ.”

He saw her reflected in the impromptu mirror he had made, and her hand made its way to his head, her fingers threading delicately through its newly cut strands; her hand ghosted down to his neck, and tenderly, so tenderly it could break his heart, she brushed away some of the remnants which still lay there.

“Whoops! Missed some. Sorry,” she said, barely thinking about it.

Goosebumps rose on his neck at the casual intimacy of her touch, and he watched her, unaware, in the reflection, turning over in his mind how often it felt like there was no dividing line between him and her, that they were two halves of the same thing made whole; gold and silver, boy and girl, light and dark.

When she turned to look at her own reflection, he looked away quickly, as if burnt, suddenly shy to be caught.

She frowned slightly, and her hand left his neck to play with the ends of her own hair.

"It's getting long," she mused. She turned to look at him, and his gaze jerked upwards, to look her in her forget-me-not eyes. "Will you cut it for me?"

The knife was in her hand and she offered it to him, and for some reason, his mouth went dry.

"After the job I did on my hair? Ya'd trust me after that?" he tried to stall for time.

“Yes," she said simply. "It's different, cutting someone else's hair. You can see properly. You’ll be fine." She paused. “If you leave me bald, I will get my revenge. You know that, right?”

His eyes went to the knife that she held out to him, and he was haunted, suddenly, by the thought of driving it pommel deep through her neck until the blade stuck out her trachea, by the thought of arterial spray and the crimson of her blood splattering over the plants and across his chest, about its hot liquid warmth gushing out over his body and going cold in the morning air; how her body would go slack, and her eyes dull, and her skin gray, and how her mouth would gape in the way that all corpse mouths seemed to gape.

If she only knew the things he had done with that knife, and how easy, how simple, they had been- like drawing water from the river, or pulling carrots from the ground.

Did the ability to imagine doing such things to her make him capable of them? He didn’t know, and he didn't want to know.

He shivered in the warm air, feeling a little sick, but took the proffered knife. Reluctantly, he bid her to sit down in front of him anyway.

Her amber hair lay slightly askew, and he could see a glimpse of her neck, made golden by the sun, between its strands. It would be so easy, he thought, and yet. And his mind kept butting up against that thought. It would have been the simplest thing in the world, like snuffing out a lantern, and yet-

Could he?

He would sooner stab himself.

She bared her neck to him, and let him hold his knife there, millimetres from her, and she did not flinch for a second. It was as if she didn’t realise at all that with one slip, he could end her.

She trusts me, and the truth of that settled across his shoulders like a blanket, like a burden. She trusts me with her life. He felt sick.

Would I trust her with mine?

With a sure and certain hand, he began to cut, and unaware of the thoughts which had raced through his small head, she chattered on blithely.

---

One day in the early autumn, he took her to a sunny spot in the garden and made a cheerful announcement. "This spot is for ya'. Ya' grow whatever ya' want here- onions, scallions, garlic, cress, cabbage, whatever ya' want. I’ll help ya’."

It had come so out of the blue that she was completely thrown.

"What?" she asked dumbly.

He moved from foot to foot energetically. "The garden is ours, but I want ya' to have this bit for ya'self. I'll help ya' turn over the earth so that we can start growin' things."

"To grow anything?" she asked.

"Anythin'," he reaffirmed impatiently.

She hesitated for a moment, but he knew her face too well for it to slip past unnoticed.

"What's the matter?" he asked immediately.

"Nothing," she said a bit too quickly.

"I know what 'nothin'' looks like," he said. "Spill."

She bit her lip, and her ears started to go pink with embarrassment.

"Could we grow flowers?" and for some reason, she felt shy. She looked up at him, and he was grinning. "Don't laugh at me!" she demanded, her face hot.

He laughed, but it was a happy, care-free thing, a laugh which rose up into the sky and into the winds, and carried her up there with it. He would be sad to pass up on regular scallions, but there was always the occasional patch growing wild in the woods, so it would not be too much of a loss.

"I'm not laughin' at ya'," he said easily. "It's ya' patch of the garden. I wanted ya' to grow what ya' wanted. If Ran-chan wants flowers, she'll get flowers. Come down here and help me turn over the soil." He beckoned her closer. "It's a mucky job, so ya'll want to hitch ya' yukata up, like so," He had gathered the fabric above his knees and tied it before kneeling on the threadbare grass.

She had followed suit, and knelt beside him, her calf bumping absent-mindedly against his. Her limbs had been thin and starved once, he recalled, when she came to him, but they had grown healthy and strong in the time since. The sight pleased him

"We're just goin' to turn over the earth with our hands," he said cheerfully. "Ain't got no spade or fork to use."

She glared at him. "You didn't say that we'd have to put our hands in the mud for this."

"Nah, Ran-chan, that's just life. Gotta get ya' hands dirty sometimes and muck in if you want flowers."

The ground gave way easily, even only using their hands, and the air was soon full of the dark, loamy smell of fresh earth. He delighted in picking up worms when they found them, pink and wriggling, and dangling them in front of her, because she'd shriek and laugh and push him away.

"That's disgusting!" she'd shout in outrage. "How can you even touch it, Gin?"

She appreciated it even less when he slyly bumped her with his shoulder, causing her to over balance and land in the mud.

Working together, they cleared the area quickly, though they did not get away unscathed. He had several streaks of mud on his face from when he'd brought a worm too close to her, and she'd swiped her hands on his face in revenge. Her knees and the front of her legs were brown with dirt, and her hands were not worth mentioning. But they had smiled, and joked, and the hot morning had passed quickly.

By early afternoon, the sun was shining thick and fast, and they were almost finished. He had rolled his sleeves up, and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm.

"We're almost done here, I reckon," Gin said decisively. "I'll stay and neaten up the edges. Do ya' know which flowers ya' want to plant up?"

"Some of those spindly red ones that grow by the river," she said, having thought about it whilst they had been digging. "They're not due to bloom yet, but it shouldn't be long." Her eyes shone with excitement.

"Go on then," he said indulgently. "Make sure not to damage the roots. Ya' know what ya' doin'?

Her answer was an undecipherable noise yelled back at him and lost to the wind as she sped off to the river as quickly as her small legs could carry her.

The patch of cleared earth was not large, and was made clumsily by the small hands of children, but it would do.

He attempted for a few moments to neaten up its edges, but was too lazy and content to exert much effort. His knees ached from having knelt too long on the hard ground, and he knew he would be in desperate need of a dip in the river. He almost groaned at the thought. Birds sang in the eaves, an unmelodic, but cheerful twitter, and the sun baked the back of his neck.

Idly, he thought of flowers, and pondered whether they would attract bees, fat and bumbling, and whether they could possibly get honey for their efforts. It would be nice, he thought. Maybe we could dip the persimmons in it.

It was, he thought, a beautiful day, and so he decided to bask in the sun on his back until she returned, a satisfied vulpine smile on his face. Let her catch him, he thought.

She emerged twenty minutes later from the forest, her arms filled with a bouquet of crimson, spidery lilies which she held like a bride. Some were as of yet still only in the bud, some beginning to reach the fullness of their bloom.

Her face peaked out from between the beautiful red flowers with their strange, ungainly tendrils. Her face was flushed, and her eyes sparkled and the sun played in her hair.

She was so beautiful, that day.

She raised the flowers to him in triumph and as she did so, they began to tumble from her arms, and she had to bend and fumble clumsily not to drop them. He could not help but smile softly at the sight.

Looking at her, something in his chest tightened, and he could not say what it was, only that it was half agony, half tremendous sweetness, and entirely of her making.

He rose to his feet.

"Here," he said calmly, "Give them to me. I'll carry 'em for ya’."

She looked up at him quickly, and smiled brightly when she met his gaze, her eyes crinkling warmly. She handed the flowers over.

"They're pretty," he mused, opening his eyes fully, though the flowers took up only the smallest part of his attention. She felt heat rise in her cheeks, and could not explain why it did.

He felt a tendril-like petal between his fingers. "This was a good idea ya' had. I wonder what these are?"

She had no idea. In truth, she knew little about flowers, only that there were certain kinds that you shouldn't eat because they were poisonous, some that came in the spring, and some that came in the summer. There had not been the space to think about beautiful things before she met him.

She had chosen these because she knew that they were bright and interestingly shaped, and it had been as simple as that.

"I don't know," she said. "It’s just a pl-". She broke off, and stretched out her hand, distracted. She could have sworn she felt rain.

The world paused, like the attention of creation was focused on a grand spectacle far off in the distance.

She heard a hesitant pitter-patter.

And then an uncertain stutter of rain drops bouncing off the ground.

The gentle tapping grew heavier and heavier until, suddenly, it became a drumming cacophony, the sound echoing across the garden, and the world turned green and blurred as the air overhead filled with water, with great lashings of water, pelting down. The sun kept beating brightly and relentlessly, and the raindrops shone like diamonds hanging in the air, and the world tilted and overturned.

She could not see; he could not see.

She grabbed his hand blindly, and startled, he allowed the flowers to slip from his arms and his fingers and crash to the ground. She ran exhilarated through the rain, laughing and laughing deliriously, leaping over the vegetable beds and odd mounds of earth, and he followed, delighted and laughing and letting himself be led after her.

He would have followed her anywhere.

When they reached the house, they were soaked through, and water dripped on the floor. His hair lay flat and drenched across his forehead, and hers hung in a wild mane about her head. They bumped together clumsily, and clung to each other to keep one another steady. Their feet were wet and water pooled on the ground.

His lips had found themselves on her forehead, so tightly were they pressed against one another, and the rain clattered against the roof like the banging of a war drum.

"The fox is- the fox is having his wedding," she laughed, struggling to catch her breath.

"What?" he asked, dazed and blinking, trying to wipe the water from his eyes. There was still mud from earlier in the day on his face, and it smeared where he rubbed.

"I-" she paused for a moment and glared at him. "I don't know! I don’t know why I said that. It's a saying, I think."

"What's it mean?" he said, trying to catch his breath.

"I dunno. It's just what you say when the sun shines and the rain rains at the same time. I think I must have heard it when I was still alive. The fox is cunning, and sneaky, and powerful, right? When he does stuff, he doesn’t like people to see, so he makes it rain.” She explained it all as if it were commonsense. “He didn’t want us peeking in on him."

"Huh. The fox is havin' his weddin'," he echoed, turning the phrase over slowly in his mouth. It was poetic, he thought- but he still didn’t have the first clue what it meant.

But she had moved on, stepping away from him to peer outside. The air was thick with falling rain.

"Will the flowers be alright, do you reckon? Will they die if we don't put them in the ground right away?" she asked, concern written all over her face. "It was tough work digging them up and carrying them here. I got mud under my nails."

"They should be okay," he considered. "They'll get plenty of water in the rain at least, and rains like this never last long."

"Ugh," she groaned suddenly, looking at her arms. "I'm still covered in dirt. I wanted to go and wash up in the river before we ate and went to sleep.” She pouted, her hands on her hips. “Maybe I should just take my clothes off and stand outside in the rain and let it do the washing for me," she said petulantly.

His heart skipped a beat.

"Nope," he said in a tone that brooked no argument. "That would be silly. And anyway, there's not enough rain now for ya' to get clean."

“I bet a bath in a sunshower would feel like nothing else in the world,” she teased, not because she knew what it implied, but because he had forbid it.

But as if his words had intervened directly with the weather itself, the drumming on the roof quietened to a patter and stopped completely soon after.

Birdsong resumed, and with it the lazy background hum of cicada music.

“You did that!” she accused. “You stopped the rain with your powers!”

“I wouldn’t know how to do that even if I wanted to!” he complained. “I don’t know why ya’ complainin’ anyway- standing in the rain wouldn’t have got ya’ clean, and now there’s no rain, ya’ can take your bath in the river, like you wanted.”

She huffed at him.

“But we’ll plant the flowers first.”

He sighed in frustration, and ran a hand through his hair. The dirt on his hands transferred, leaving a dark streak, and she giggled at the sight.

“We’ll plant the flowers first,” he said.

---

(And they had. They had bloomed through the autumn that year until even after her birthday had come and gone, and they had come back year after year after year without fail, even after they had both left the old house to tumble down into ruin and the garden to be overcome by the wilderness.

The spider lilies had shone in bursts of scarlet and crimson against the verdant trees, and even when they planted other flowers there, they always took pride of place.)

(They were still there even when she returned years later, a tired woman weighed down by grief and betrayal, but wiser.

She looked at those flowers then and knew too late their irony. She thought of then of the fox’s wedding day, and of a foolish girl who had carried a bouquet of red spider lilies in her slender arms to the boy she had loved, bride-like and ignorant, so ignorant, of what was to come.)

#bleach #gin ichimaru #rangiku matsumoto #ginran #ichimaru gin #spider lilies #it's time for some s y m b o l i s m #this ship #this goddamn ship #comment reblog like shout at me with a megaphone #save me from my excel spreadsheets #you're all <3 tho #srsly

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missblissy · 6 years ago

Text

Title: Homeless at Home Fandom: Red Dead Redemption Genre: fanfiction, chapters, angst, reader insert, fluff, slow burn, friends-to-lovers, pre-game Characters: Young!Arthur Morgan, Dutch Van Der Linde, Hosea Mathews, Arthur Morgan/ Reader, Female reader, Arthur x Reader, Arthur Morgan x Reader, Arthur/ You, Young!reader Chapter: One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten

Follow me on AO3!! Read it there too!

((Hello friends!! Another chapter has been posted!! Another one will be up tonight!! Thank you so much for being so kind with me!! I’m sorry I’ve been posting infrequently! That is about to change soon!! Several other fics will be posted tonight!!!!))

Description:

The winter world was slowly melting away and it was quite beautiful to watch. You would stare at the colorful birds as they flew from branch to branch. Blue Jays bounced around and sang as they raced the Cardinals to the barren treetops. You much preferred to watch the crows though, they would stare back at you with dark little eyes that told ancient stories you could never understand. The crows would hop around and watch you and Arthur ride through the thin forest, then suddenly dozens of them took to the skies.

_______________________________________________________

This was it. You knew you had finally done it. The air was frigid, it made your skin turn a light shade of pink. Your fingers were ice cold even though you had two pairs of gloves on. It may have been near freezing but you were still sweating from running so much. Your heart raced, beating louder and louder like a drum in your ears.

Where was he? The tree you had taken cover behind wouldn’t last for long. You knew he was out there, waiting, ready to end it all. God dammit! Why did you always find yourself in these kinds of situations? Why were you so bad at being… bad? You sucked in a deep breath and took the biggest risk of your life.

Slowly and slower than time, you started to peek your head out from around the tree. Maybe he was still out? Or was he hiding still? As you neared the side of the tree and peered around the corner, you had zero time to react. What god damn mistake you made.

A snowball collided with your side of your face, adding to the collection of welts to your body that now tallied to six. Arthur was standing in the backyard of your hidden home, bending over laughing.

“Haha!! Got you again!!” You watched him slap his leg and nearly shit himself laughing.

You cleaned the snow away from your face and hair and took this as a chance to wad up a snowball of your own. Packing the snow tight together between your hands, you curled your arm back and snapped it forward. The snowball flew through the air right towards Arthur’s shoulder. When he was struck by the snowball he looked back up with a fire in his eyes that told you to run again.

A scream echoed out into the snowy forest as you ran for the barn this time. Arthur was hot on your tail and you could hear him calling out to you.

“You started this war!” He laughed, “Surrender or die!”

You got to the front doors of the barn and fumbled to push them open, “Eat my shit!!” It was too late, as you looked over your shoulder you were pelted with another snowball, this time on your upper leg.

Sometimes he could be such an asshole. You let out a yelp and frowned at Arthur, “This isn’t fun anymore! You’re just trying to hurt me now!” It was all fun and games in the beginning, but somehow it really did turn into a snowball war and Arthur was winning. He was only so good because he was older and had wicked good eye sight. You still struggled with shooting and aiming a gun, so how on earth could you throw a snowball?

Despite the war, it was nice to finally get out of the house again. A long storm had raged through the deeper parts of Paradise Valley. And Dutch said the winter’s here were mild. You’ve spent nearly all of it inside that house, listening to Uncle’s drunk stories about his golden years. The spring was only a few weeks away now, and Hosea had still not returned.

Nothing special happened this winter, thankfully. Though, when the Christmas time came around there was a nice humble morning were everyone woke up together and had a real and meaningful breakfast. You spent a lot of that time reading the medical books you had gotten from the doctor in town. One was on plants and how to make them in to medicine, you already knew a lot about that thanks to your mother. Another one was about tending to all type of open wounds and injuries. You had started practicing how to stitch with a needle and thread that Susan had lent you. Stitching a person and a blanket wasn’t that different. You had mastered the baseball stitch and the lock stitch but you still had a few others to get.

Now you stood facing death on the first day out in months. Arthur was an evil man, or just a bastard, perhaps both. You looked at him, glaring, daring him to throw another snowball, “Hit me again and see what happens!” You challenged him for the first time since this war started.

“Yeah? What’s a tiny little thing like you gonna do?” Arthur’s cocky grin ate away at you.

With a huff and a pout, you decided to really turn the tables. You locked eyes with Arthur and started to get the waterworks going. You let out a fake sob and wailed, “DUTCH!!!” And ran past Arthur before he could slap a hand on your mouth and save his own skin.

He cursed under his breath and dropped the snowball in his hand, “Shit- (Y/n)! I didn’t mean it! Come on it was a game!!” It stopped being a game when he started being an asshole.

You ran inside from the backdoor and through the kitchen, Arthur was close behind you when you got to the living room, “Dutch!” You yelled out to the old man sitting on the couch, reading away. Your loud yell startled him and he dropped his book right before you hid behind him with a small cry, “Arthur’s throwing snowballs at me! He won’t stop! He hit me in the face! Look!”

There was no way of stopping the bomb you had just set off. Dutch didn’t say a word as he gentle grabbed you by the chin and turn your head to look at the goose egg that was forming. You let out another cry, “He got me other places too,” You whined.

Arthur stood frozen in the entrance to the living room. You watched as a part of his soul floated away and into the heavens. Normally when Arthur was being a dick, you just ignored him. But sometimes he took it too far, like today, and you needed to unleash the wrath of Mother Dutch onto him.

Dutch snapped his gaze to the young outlaw and said, “What the hell is wrong with you? Huh? Throwing snowballs at a little girl?” You weren’t that little, not really.

You watched Arthur start to glare and his mouth hanging open, “She!” He pointed a finger at you, “She started it! She threw one at me!”

“And surely you are the dumb ass to throw one back,” Dutch got up from his spot on the couch while picking his book up off the floor. As he passed Arthur he smacked him on the head with his book and said, “Stop it. Get your ass back outside and keep watch,” Dutch suddenly snapped to you, “And you,” His glare softened but it was still there, “Stop bothering him.” He left after that and headed upstairs to find a new peaceful reading space.

The two of you were left alone again and all the hostility from before had started to melt away. You had won the last battle and you took your victory with pride. However, at the same time, you wanted to get the hell out of the house before Susan or Annabelle started asking you to do chores. So it was time for a new game.

You bolted. You broke out into a sprint and as you ran past Arthur you slapped a hand onto his arm and yelled out, “Tag!” And ran for the door.

He took the bait. He always took the bait. For a grumpy teenage outlaw, he sure loved playing games with you. He’d be turning 17 soon, and you knew sooner or later Arthur would join The Adults and leave you and your games behind. So you tried to enjoy them while you could. He was your best friend and you wanted to keep it that way forever.

As you ran out of the house you made your way back to the barn. Hidden inside was Callus and the rest of the horses. You had about ten seconds to mount up and run. It took you fifteen seconds just to get inside. Arthur was right behind you and you felt him smack your arm as he ran past you going deeper within the barn. He got on his horse quicker than you and fled the barn. His laughter filled the air as you scurried after him.

You busted out of the barn and saw the Arthur in the distance as he fled the forest. You chased after him on Callus. Snow fled into the air as you rushed your mustang to catch up with Arthur. Somehow tag turned into a race. When you got close enough to Arthur you laughed out and said, “Last one to Bottom’s Bridge has to do the other’s chores for a week!” Just as you said that you made it to the main road. You took a sharp right turn and took the lead as a confused Arthur had to process what you said.

It didn’t take long for him to understand and chase after you. The two of you race nearly side by side on the road. Eventually, the thick forest turned into an open valley. Cold air whipped past you, burning your cheeks and tangling your hair in the wind. For the first time in months, you felt free and alive. Something about riding a horse on the open snowy plains made you feel this sense of wonder that you thought you’d never feel again. Laughter bubbled from your lungs and filled the chilly air. The morning sun had nearly made it halfway up into the perfectly clear sky. Not a single cloud was out.

You looked over and you could see Arthur riding along beside you. He had a grin larger than life on his face. His own laughter echoed into the valley air. You shared a glance with him, your eyes locked and in just second Arthur had sped off ahead of you. His hair fluttered effortlessly in the cold wind and you could just make out the trail of clouds that escaped his lungs as he breathed.

That bastard wasn’t going to win, you wouldn’t stand for it. You spurred Callus on and snapped your reins, You let out a quiet breathy whisper, “Come on!” You begged your stallion, “Come on boy!” You kept your eyes locked on Arthur as you followed hot on his tail. He looked over his shoulder and cackled and hollered.

“Can’t catch up can ya, kid?!” The idiot wasn’t paying attention to where he was going.

In the distance, you could see the valley’s end. A frozen river flew and squirmed through the valley until it reached the end of a cliff. Bottom’s Bridge swept across the Paradise Falls where the river flowed down into a deep gorge.

Arthur’s horse grew spooked by the wall of steam and misty the flew in the sky as he ran towards the river’s bridge to cross it. The horse nearly bucked and kicked him off but you and Callus dashed past him and into cold icy clouds. The sun shimmered and little rainbows cast off each misty drop that escaped the edge of the falls. As you past Arthur you grinned at him, amazed and delighted to see his surprised face.

You pulled on the reins just as you heard the sound of wood clonk under Callus’s hooves. You made it to the bridge, a big cheeky grin smeared on your face, “I won!” You look over your shoulder at Arthur who had just made it there and threw the wall of mist, “I beat you!”

“Ah! So what!” He waved a hand at you, clearly trying to play it off, “I ain’t doing your chores no matter how many times you win!”

“Fine!” You huffed but you had a small smile. You pulled at the reins in your hands and spurred Callus towards the bridge, “Buy me something in town then!”

Arthur didn’t argue, you were already half way to town anyways. Besides, he could buy some much needed personal supplies. He could check the post office too for Dutch while he was at it. You waited for him to reach your side and the two of your set off together, side by side once again, at a slow and casual pace.

Spring was coming very soon and you loved watching the world come back to life. The ride was silent for the most part, but you enjoyed the silence while a glance at Arthur every now and then just to make sure he wouldn’t pull any tricks or stunts. It wasn’t long until you made it the near hour and a half journey into Sugartown. It had been weeks since you saw the bleak little town. The dark winter trapped you in the house and it was refreshing to see other people some kind of civilization. You had little clothes to keep you warm, which was the biggest reason you stayed indoors. The second reason was that you had taken advantage of the basement in the house and used to practice your herb use as well.

At least it was warm enough now for your crappy jacket and several layers of shirts. You and Arthur hitched your horses outside the post office at every edge of town. As he stomped down into the muddy snow he groaned out and complained, “Ahh- I’m gonna check for any mail,” He sniffled his nose, you could see it was bright red and runny. He swiped his sleeve under his nose then walked past you, “Don’t get lost, kay? I’ll be back out and buy you whatever you want in a few seconds.”

You didn’t say much, you just nodded your head and made yourself comfortable against the wall near the front door. Arthur headed inside and you took to your least favorite pass time, people watching. First, you saw a busy priest dash down the road from his cute little church and right into some unknown building that didn’t have any signs on it. Then you saw a cozy fat little woman walking with her son, they headed down the main drag of town and went into the doctor’s office. You felt a shutter and shiver go down your spine and you knew it wasn’t from the cold. That town doctor… whatever his name was, you couldn’t remember if he told you or not. He didn’t give you a good feeling. He knew your family, and at this point, there was no way he didn’t know you.

The last time you saw him, it scared you a little bit, and at the same time, it bothered you. Would he go to the law and expose Dutch and the gang for technically kidnapping you? It wasn’t like that at all, but what adult lawmen would listen to a 13-year-old girl explain that she willingly went with them? So many people wanted Dutch’s head, they’d take any excuse they could to book him in a jail cell for good. The face of an evil child kidnapper was exactly what they wanted to paint him as. You and everyone else who knew Dutch knew he was more of a chaotic lover than anything else. He didn’t want to harm people, and a lot of his fortune was spent on others, even strangers. If people pushed him though, he’d kill and he’d do it with no mercy.

You shook those thoughts from your head then wondered what was taking Arthur so long. He’d been gone for almost ten minutes. You ventured into the dark and dim post office and waited as your eyes adjusted to the light. After a second of blinking blindly, you found Arthur at the mail window.

It took only a second for you to glare and roll your eyes before walking over to him. He was standing broad and wide, leaning forward on the mail window’s counter as he flirted with the young teenage teller who worked here. Arthur talked low and made the young girl laugh and giggle behind her hand.

You couldn’t blame him, she was very pretty. She had a clean smile and rosy cheeks that gave away her wild blush. Her hair was dark black with wild curls that frizzed out in every direction. She dressed very casual and proper in a creamy white dress that had cute little black ribbons in it. You made your way to the window and crossed your arms and stomped a food hard down onto the floorboards.

Arthur snapped from his flirty eyed daze and you saw his face go from that gross thirsty look into one of anger and irritation. The young woman, however, seemed amused. She laughed like an airhead and peered over the counter to look down at you.

“Hello, little girl,” She greeted you, but you ignored her and glared back at Arthur.

You pointed a finger at him and took three steps closer till you jabbed your finger into his stomach, “You said a few seconds! You’re a dirty filthy liar.”

“It’s only been a few minutes,” Arthur retorted and shrugged like he didn't care, “Go wait outside, kid,” He tried to shoo you away but you smacked his hand.

The poor innocent girl made a terrible mistake. She was confused and asked, “Is she your little sister?” Something about that question made you angry.

“No!” You suddenly turned your glare on the innocent girl and tried to smile, “He’s a terrible person, trust me, your father would never let you marry him.” This girl stared back at you with a blank gaze, it made you think she was more stupid than the average person.

Before Arthur could beat you and before the girl could gasp in shock, you slapped your hand on the mail Arthur failed to take. You looked at him, ready to fight toe to toe, “Can we go now?”

As much as Arthur wanted to wring your neck, he didn’t and he just huffed a big sigh and grabbed you by your arm as he dragged you out of the post office. You yanked your arm away from him once got outside and gave the mail back to Arthur. He tucked it away into his satchel and followed you.

“Why you always gotta do that?” Arthur barked down at you, he walked beside you as you ran down the steps and deeper into town.

“Do what?” You asked like you had no idea what he was talking about.

Arthur scoffed then slacked your shoulder with the back of his hand, “Be a little rude shit to all the girls I talk to?” You couldn’t deny that anytime you caught Arthur flirting with some stranger you’d get angry, but you did because it disgusted you and he always chooses to take his perverted interests at the most inconvenient times.

“Because it annoys you,” You smirked up at him and then mockingly said, “Because I’m your annoying little sister,” You smacked him back, right in the gut, then hurried off to avoid getting smacked twice as harder.

You fled into the general store, your goal all along, a ran towards the back of the store were the kept all the candy you could dream of in tiny little barrels. This was the prize you wanted for winning your race. Arthur may have forgotten all about it, but you didn’t. He came bursting through the door looking like an idiot. The store clerk gave him a glare and muttered something under his breath.

Arthur joined you in the back of the store, slightly winded and breathing heavily. He didn’t even say a word and picked up a bag and started doing the same as you. You both filled the red paper bags to the brim with sweet treats. You loved chocolate the most and got the sweet little round chocolate truffles. Arthur collected carnal and butterscotch like some old man.

“I should get two bags because I won the race,” You said casually.

Arthur grunted, which was his only reply. He didn’t say no, so you handed him your first bag and filled a second one. You filled that one with one of every candy, then a few extras of your favorites. Arthur took all three bags and handed them over to the overly grumpy store clerk. He weighed them out then tied them closed with little twisty ties. Arthur paid for each one in his silent monotone autopilot mode, mumbling thanks, then tossed you both of your bags.

You left the store, tearing open one bag and digging into the candies, and followed Arthur through town once more. You walked side by side down the wood plank sidewalks. You tossed a little chocolate truffle into your mouth and sighed in glee at the sweet and precious candy as it melted away in your mouth.

“Thanks for the candy, Arthur,” You beamed up to your unruly friend.

He seemed to have gotten over all the trouble you caused him today, and was content with plucking away at the sweet little caramel treats he got himself, “Don’t mention it,”

Despite all the irritation, you caused each other, you really did care about Arthur like he was a brother. He was family, and as much as you pestered and annoyed the shit out of him sometimes, he’d never want to see or do you any harm. The two of you enjoyed each other company and found a bench to sit on under the cover of a stores front porch. You silently sat together, eating away at candy, until Arthur realized the whole reason you even came to town.

“The mail!” He said out of nowhere, nearly giving you a heart attack, “I almost forgot!” He set his bag of candy down between the town of you and dug into his satchel, “Look, (Y/n),” Arthur handed you a small and warn envelope.

You clasped it tight with cold fingers and squinted down at the words. It was addressed to a Francis Marwick. That was another pen name set up between the gang. Suddenly it hit you and you snapped your gaze back to Arthur, gasping out, “It’s from Hosea!”

Arthur swiped the letter and tucked it away. Before you could protest and ask to read it, he firmly said, “Dutch has got to see it first,” he shook his head at you. You sprung up from your seat quickly and grabbed him by his arm, “Then we better get back!”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

He was coming back. Hosea had written a lengthy letter that took to long to finally get to Dutch. When Arthur gave Dutch the letter, he was almost at a loss of words. A letter and it was from Hosea? You thought Dutch would be angry, at first, but he was just surprised. It took him a while to get through the whole thing, but you watch Dutch’s face change and listened to him read bits of the letter out loud.

The story goes like this; Bessie’s father had died and her two sisters sold the ranch and ran off with whatever money they could make. She followed one of her sisters to California after finding out they tricked her, and lied about going to Texas. Hosea comes in because he promised to help Bessie get the money for her ranch back. Months had passed and they made no luck finding her sister… but… They did get married. Hosea pleaded that he would have been back sooner, and with as much money as he could bring but they were cheated out of an inheritance and robbed of everything they owned. They got stuck in California though, waiting to make enough money to head home.

Hosea wrote that he would have never of let this happen and that he would hopefully be home once the spring had settled in. As for Susan’s declaration that he was a money hungry gold digger, that seemed false because he didn’t gain a single penny from marrying Bessie, instead he gained the love his life, or so that’s how he described it.

Now you had to wait. You made yourself useful around camp and started talking up hunting as your preferred chore. For some reason, you wanted to impress Hosea when he got back home. You still studied hard away at making medicines in the basement. You were not very good at it, but you knew it’d take time and practice. You practiced your stitching as well, every day you would take some leather from a previous hunt and stitch them together as if they were skin in need medical attention. You had started studying from a book on veins and arteries as well.

When you weren’t busy studying or doing chores, you’d spend your free time with Arthur. Dutch was to busy looking for a new campsite or wooing Annabelle to be bothered right now. Susan enjoyed your company in the morning when you did chores with her, but she preferred to spend her evenings in town or alone. And no one wanted to hang around Uncle to long or he’d talk your ear right off.

The snow soon melted away entirely, and days turned into weeks, and the forest started to bloom to life. With the good weather, Dutch took to moving camp closer to town. You packed up your things and wished the house a very welcomed goodbye. You hated living there, crammed into such a small space with so many people. Perhaps it wasn’t that bad that Hosea wasn’t there for the house, there surely wasn’t any room for him or Bessie.

As you left the house behind, you wondered how Hosea would know where to find your new camp. Arthur left a note behind, written in code in case anyone other than Hosea was to find it. Your new camp was a million times better, thank God. Although the weather was still a little chilly, the days grew warm and you found a new camp west of Sugartown, and east of a new town called Blue Rock, it was a coal mining town and full of prospects and outlaws. It was a place Dutch wanted to call home but Annabelle managed to argue with him into choosing a shady lakeside camp equally between the two towns.

You were glad she did, because, on your first visit to Blue Rock, you felt unwanted and scared. It was a town filled with mostly men, prostitutes, miners, and all sorts of criminals. They all stared at you like you were a freak. There were houses that the miners lived in, saloons, train stations for the coal that was mined, and several brothels. There was no church, no sheriff’s office, no bank, and no doctor. It was truly lawless, dark, dank, and dangerous. You never went back after that. Anytime Arthur or Dutch went to town, you had to always ask which one now.

It wasn’t until it was a cold and misty morning where you found yourself cast far out from camp. You were sitting on a rock down the beach of camp as you worked at carving your initials into the stone with your hunting knife. Someone was walking across the stony beach, you could hear them step over all the smooth little pebbles. They made their way towards you and as you looked over your shoulder you threw your knife to the ground and leap from the top of the large boulder you perched yourself on.

Hosea had come home, and he stood in front of you with his arms held wide open. He was tanner than usual and his hair had grown out some. You let out some strange laugh mixed with a cry as you ran towards him and threw yourself into his arms, “You’re back!” It had been months since you last saw him.

You never realized until he was gone just how much you missed Hosea. He laughed and let out a grunt as you threw yourself at him, but he smiled and jokingly said, “Of course I am! Where else would I go?” You missed him so much. Life wasn’t the same without him, you had no one to go hunting with, which you’ve grown to deeply enjoy the hunt and providing for the gang since Hosea’s absence. There was less joy in camp without him as well, everyone missed him. There was also little profit coming in without the master conman at work. Dutch was little to nothing without his right-hand man.

“I never thought you’d come back. You just left without saying anything…” You let out a little cry, but it was free of any tears. You buried your face into Hosea’s chest and listened to him softly laugh. It was comforting to hear him again.

“I would never leave you behind, I always had intentions of coming back,” Hosea held you close, hugging you, then pulling away, “How could I leave you and Arthur with Dutch for too long? He’d get you guys killed eventually,” He said those words so seriously, you thought he was joking but he didn’t laugh and neither did you.

Hosea stood tall and held onto your hand as you walked down the beach towards camp together. You told him all about how awful the winter was and how much Arthur liked to pick on you.

When you started to ask him about his time away, he’d brush it off and answer your question with another question. He didn’t seem to want to talk about what happened when he was gone or why he left at all. He came back to a married man, however, and Bessie was back in camp waiting for him. The two had drastically changed in character. The last time you saw them together they were very friendly towards each other, now they were very openly affectionate, going as far to call each other very cheesy pet names. It almost grossed you out.

The first night Hosea and Bessie were back, everyone partied. Even you did a little. You really just enjoyed having Hosea back, even Bessie too. It had made you reflect on the past year and a half. So much of your life changed. You lost your parents but gained several new ones. You had gone through a series of depressive episodes, but you were learning to cope with your grief and sorrow of your family and life. You’d be turning 14 this year, though your birthday was still many months away. As you sat around the large fire pit with everyone, listening to Hosea and Bessie retell parts of their journey home, you felt whole for the first time in what felt like months.

It was if Hosea’s homecoming that enlightened your soul or sparked some kind of hope in you. You looked forward to the next day, and the months to come, excited to see where Dutch and Hosea would take you next. The dark winter was finally over and you could live in the sun again, you hoped, and almost prayed that you’d be heading to the desert again. You could feel it in deep within you, good things were about to happen.

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deadpanprincess · 7 years ago

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Sins of Believing Chap 2

Chapter Two: Pride and Wrath

Read on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12510504

Draven stands at attention as Cassian ushers in his team. The general’s hands twine together behind his back and his arms flex with the effort. He even refrains from blinking too quickly, keeping his eyes on Rogue One for as long as possible. Cassian has only seen Draven like this once before: after the destruction of Alderaan. Draven had found Cassian in the medbay. His best operative lay trapped by a shattered spine and their only hope for survival was lost in space. Draven may not have blinked at all when he relayed the news. Cassian was too fuzzed out on painkillers to remember clearly.

The general's current stillness is not hopelessness, though. It is the calm of thought that endears Draven to the Council. Contingency after contingency forms in his mind's eye. Around him, Intelligence Command hums with restless energy. Every officer takes their designated space and watches their screens. Some have dropped one ear of their headphones to better listen to the incoming report. Others prefer to ignore Rogue One completely. They still have not forgiven Cassian for their losses.

Jyn, beside Cassian, is a riot of motion. Her fingers drum against her visible blaster, her weight shifts from one braced leg to the other, and her mouth constantly reshapes with anger. Grief tries to press the restless movement out of her, but fury keeps her fidgeting. She is supposed to be done with war rooms and councils and fear too abstract to contain. When Skywalker destroyed the Death Star--the first one--she should have been free of guilt. Jyn takes on the sins of the Rebellion, but she should no longer carry her father's. Yet she is still here, paying for him again.

"Report," Draven commands.

Cassian answers, like he always has. "Rogue One approached Sergeant Erso's contact with no resistance. Both the sergeant and myself were able to engage without issue. Under cover of engaged couple Tanith Porta and Castor Willix, we convinced the target that we had information for her. Target believed our intel and offered information."

"And?" Draven knows, but he asks to the benefit of the other Intelligence officers' attentive ears.

"There is a second Death Star," Cassian says. Intelligence does not stop working, but they complete their actions more quietly.

"And why did the target offer this information?" Draven asks.

Cassian is fairly sure the general has already figured at least five scenarios where such intel would be imparted, but Draven never accepts assumptions. He wants Cassian to confirm his suspicions, but he underestimates how the captain cares for his crew.

"The target believed it important to our covers," Cassian hedges. Draven stares him down. He hears the hesitance, the lie cloaked in truth. Neither man moves, and total silence filters over Intelligence Command. Every officer puts down their work to watch the insubordination of Draven's favorite operative. The quiet highlights the rattle of Jyn's zippers as her leg jiggles. She wishes they would just fight it out.

"Obviously it was me," she says, exasperated. Cassian closes his eyes as Draven looks to her.

"Explain, Sergeant Erso."

"I was the one who told the target that there was a rebel base on Yavin IV," Jyn clarifies. She holds Draven's gaze, but her leg bounces more aggressively. One or two of the surrounding officers freeze. It is their only indication of anger.

"That was not the false plant you were ordered to give," Draven says.

"Well, your original plan would have allowed the target to pass along information without consequences," Jyn defends.

"That was not your call to make, Sergeant." Draven enunciates her rank, calling attention to the disparity of power between them. Jyn does not care if he is named the supreme ruler of all the galaxies, though. She shoves forward, her chin thrust up so she can keep meeting his eyes. Cassian and Bodhi do not even try to stop her. They eye each other before simultaneously agreeing to let the situation play out.

"This is the woman who had me thrown in prison! You knew that and you still sent me to Utapau! Don't pretend like this is a surprise," Jyn says.

"Back up, Sergeant." Draven tries to intimidate respect by looming over her, but Jyn just rests her fists against her hips and digs in her heels.

"This is a game to you. Our lives are forfeit in service to your ideal Rebellion. But you don't get that people who are fighting need to be just as human as those they're trying to save!"

"I said back up.” Draven’s voice drops with the threat.

"I took an opportunity and it led to more intelligence. Important intelligence! Don't tell me that it's not as good as the death of some random Imperial officer."

"Jyn--" Cassian tries. She whirls on him, keeping Draven in her peripheral.

"You're practically giddy! No wonder no one on Alderaan survived when this is how you care for the members of your Alliance!" Jyn storms out of the room, sweeping past the shocked rise of Cassian’s eyebrows. Her words echo behind her. Bodhi follows, as if he can escape her accusation by leaving. A moment of complete quiet settles on Command, and then a heavy slam of bone hitting durasteel reverberates through the room.

The sound restarts Intelligence Command. Officers return to faking their attention on work. Draven and Cassian do not bother to move. They still stand across from each other, but now Cassian's eyes burn fire.

"Say it," Draven waves him on, almost drolly.

"She's not wrong," Cassian says.

"She disobeyed orders for petty revenge." Draven stays even. His hands clasp behind his back again.

"It doesn't make her wrong," Cassian says more firmly. Draven examines him, a quick brush of his eyes over the soldier he knows. The body language gives away nothing, but Draven can see the tension in his jaw and how Cassian's neck cranes forward. He almost looks like Erso from a moment ago. They share the same rage, a well of passion that Draven prefers deeply buried in his agents.

Draven dismisses Cassian with an abrupt nod. Cassian does not return the salute as he leaves. The automatic doors whoosh gently closed behind him.

He finds Jyn in his room, the impersonal neatness disturbed. Jyn has thrown their lone blanket on the ground and obviously punched their pillow with the fist not cradled against her chest. Thankfully, she left the rest of the room alone in preference of curling over herself on the mattress.

"Let me see," Cassian demands as he walks in. There is no reason to pretend she is anything other than hurt. He heard the crack of her fist. Jyn only glares and pulls her injured hand further into the hollow at her clavicle. The furious color of her cheeks pops against the dingy grey of the room.

"At least let me reset your knuckles," he sighs. She does not lose her angry scowl, but Jyn scooches closer to the edge of the bed. Exhaustion duels with humor as Cassian offers his own palm as a resting place. She lays her hand down upon it. His legs bracket her on either side so he can better probe her injury. Three of her knuckles swell, and her harshly lined skin almost seems new as the internal bleeding pulls the dermis tight. Cassian hisses in commiseration. She has definitely broken two knuckles and possibly fractured a finger. He will have to play doctor because Jyn will never go the medbay, even if they could spare resources.

"The wall punched back," he teases. His voice does not change in tone, but lilts with the joke.

"Kriff you," Jyn says. She is equally tired and toneless and uninvested in a fight.

Cassian huffs in amusement while reaching for his medkit in the nightstand. He cannot waste bacta on such a minor injury, but he can wrap her knuckles in the bandage she usually tapes on for sparring. Carefully, he winds the cloth from her finger joint to her wrist. Each jerk of the wrap pulls tighter and tighter, pushing the blood back to where it belongs. Jyn lifts a bare smile at the sight of her comically swollen, bandaged fist. She now has a fabric anvil at the end of her arm.

Cassian stays silent as he tucks the end of the cloth into itself. The material seals nicely at her pulse, and he keeps his fingers pressed there as he situates himself next to her. Jyn sits stiffly as his weight shifts the bed. She tenses when he cradles her hand, but she does not pull away.

"Don't lie to me," she says suddenly. Jyn does not look at him when she speaks. She keeps her eyes focused on where she feels his thumb rubbing circles on her palm. Cassian swallows as he rejects potential responses. His thumb never ceases.

"Have I?" He asks.

"You have too much hope." Jyn seemingly changes topic, but Cassian catches the thread of her logic. His belief in the Rebellion is something she will never share. Jyn believes in Rogue One, in the Pathfinders, in the people around her. The abstract idea of revolution cannot hold her. Especially when that revolution is threatened by a danger she knows too well.

"We're prepared for them this time," Cassian says.

"What about next time? Or the time after that?" She challenges.

"They won't have a third one, this one surfaced too quickly. It must have been built simultaneously with the first," he explains. He had K2 run the data to ensure accuracy. The droid had commended his foresight.

"There's no guarantee that the flaw exists in this one. Or that they're not building a third one right now. Don't be short sighted." Jyn stands, her anger propelling her again. Cassian stays seated. His eyes follow her from corner to corner as she paces.

"So what would you have us do, Jyn?" As if he does not know. The urge to run crackles along the fine hairs of her arms. Jyn radiates with flight.

"I'm always going to be Galen Erso's daughter," Jyn evades. Cassian keeps his mouth shut. More lingers on the tip of her tongue. "Saw Guerrera's Partisan. Rogue One's sergeant."

"I only see Jyn Erso," he says. Jyn stills and regards him sadly, but a fondness keeps a pinprick of light in her eyes.

"You will always be the Alliance's captain," she releases. The idea shocks him. He, like his long lost blaster, belongs to her. Cassian gives himself to her freely, but maybe a thief never owns what is not taken.

"I haven't been. Not for some time," Cassian says to his hands as he cradles them in his lap. Scarif, Eadu, Jedha; they all lay thick in the unsaid. Jyn freezes. Her shoulder blades bunch and release. She turns slowly with her weight in her heels.

"Cassian?" Jyn prods. An eerie reminder of Draven's need for assurance steels his spine.

"I'm yours, Jyn." It is a declaration more real than any. Cassian has said "I love you" to informants, marks, lovers, but he never relinquishes himself. Wind rushes past his ears, cutting off his oxygen. He falls thirty stories all over again; and all he can see is Jyn, her green eyes dark like the leaves of Fest, like blaster bolts at night, like how she looked at him in that turbolift.

Panic claws at her throat and threatens to spill from her lips, but she grounds herself in his expression. She has seen Cassian physically naked and has fucked him in every corner of this room, but never did he let her see his heart. He reveals everything now in soft words and an even gentler look. He shares her fear, but Cassian can reconcile himself to the inevitable.

Jyn pulls roughly on her bun. A pin clatters to the floor. They stay fixed on one another, damn the disturbance.

She licks her lips in preparation. "I don't know how to do anything but fight," she warns. Cassian smiles at that and his dimples materialize in his beard. This is his Jyn, kind enough to threaten before tearing him apart.

"I know," he says. The honesty of that throws her. Jyn opens her mouth to argue, just because it feels necessary, but Cassian cuts her off.

"Let me fight with you." He says both a question and a promise.

#rebelcaptain #jyn erso #cassian andor #jyn erso x cassian andor #bodhi rook #k2so #fanfic #chapter 2 #please review/reblog!#or come into my askbox!#I would love your feedback!

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autolovecraft · 8 years ago

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He could not be very positive.

Now he knew well the lovely New England world that is not well that they go out in the foetid harbour as if a flock of vague entities were flapping thickly and silently out of the Pnakotic Manuscripts made by waking men in forgotten boreal kingdoms and borne away into the air gave out, and the Shantak would answer with tittering tones that rasped like the horned and tailed and bat-wings, curving horns, barbed tails that lashed needlessly and disquietingly. They hinted at rumored abnormalities of proportion in those obnoxious drays. And when, turning back to their onyx for the night-howlings which men fear to be; and he did so each trumpet flew abruptly to its mouth. Out they swarmed, from the darkness. Many times the slant-eyed merchant was an old traveler was not sorry to be distributed impartially amongst the fallen stones of Sarkomand, dispatching a messenger for enough night-gaunts which swarmed over the city rises in great stone circle. That on some frightful slope or blasphemous plateau the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep, horror of infinite shapes and dread soul and messenger is the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep, the rowers resumed their strokes, and sat in the taverns of the day came, and seemed to scatter, and those huge stone steps lead down from dreamland to the peopled region, wherein Leng's almost-humans had ruled so anciently before the first time the leaders of the climbers might readily be heard when the dark arid limitless plain.

The wait for this is the way had grown nearly perpendicular, and feel greater joy and wonder than they ever took, those unpleasantly featured merchants and camel drivers older than the massive heights of the horns and viols and voices rose cryptical in answer thereto, all but the King of Ilek-Vad comes from his control, leaping past him the lurid night clouds and mists and guarding the mild, feeble gods of earth had seized on the ledges half way to Nir and Ulthar dot the plain, and left alone he scarcely had strength to crawl around and ascertain its form and dimensions. It was not fair to the foot of the almost-humans danced evilly amidst forgotten cities. In former dreams he had known them; and although the sound of Cornish church bells over the hideous stench of the temple belfry shivers over the Cerenarian Sea. But each night as he did not hasten to speak with Zoogs just now; but never seen again.

The path now contracted between sable and glistening walls, and told much of pride and secrecy and dim wastes of rock, lava, and saw the light, and the vault-like tenants. Some ended in swelling domes that tapered to a stunted ash tree when the thud of something on the little windows in old peaked gables harbouring little lanes lined with grotesque stools and benches carven from jasper or chrysoberyl. The earth has no longer dared, and guessed they were, and Carter, are loftier still; so that the victim would cease its struggles.

They were frightfully cold and silence and bones. The farther he went, the capture had been an awesome and momentous. No trace of the Seventy Delights at Celephaïs and down-lands of men without embarrassment or curious explanations. Mindful of his host, and to the city of Celephaïs. Oriab in the misty twilight of that tavern sang songs of remote places. He did not once seek out the eastern face of the cats adieu, he boldly descended the seven lodges by the other chiefs were effusive in their midst; while on steep northward slopes, where a face ought to do with many a sullen backward glance. Zenig of Aphorat sought to dart down upon it. By this time the red masters of the olden days and the manner of beings they might be learned in such parts as would take ten days. So Carter walked up the forbidden peak Hatheg-Kia to see the slab and left alone he scarcely had strength to crawl around and ascertain its form and dimensions. In all this there was a tunnel with granite gates and leads to the archaeologists of earth about them, but because he realized that the Other Gods in distant parts of space and picked his way, giving to the sound of lutes and pipes stole timid from inner courts where marble fountains bubbled. Now Carter knew his way among the ghouls told Carter to mount one of the shores of Yath and of those great jellyfish abnormalities as the vanguard of night the howlings from the traders of Dylath-Leen, but he did not care to speak with the loftiest orbs of the rugged conical mass.

Everything focused toward the great basalt breakwater into the air. Ships came from, and at his right, and Carter was placed in the slow creeping course of the eleventh day they spoke with the generals, he perceived that there was nothing human, or whether in dream or in another place he had entered the temple long columns of masked and hooded priests in their flight was the nearest of the sea outside or the chant of the forest.

All of jasper is that symbol and relic of your dreams, and a sea party. Odors of incense came to see the Great Abyss whom even the Great Ones' throne-room of the average specimen. Carter went back through the aft past the great ridge of the nether pits.

At sight of shapely, wholesome cats was under debate in that late ruddy sunlight. He could turn. On the seventh day a great altitude, and tremendously impressive to watch a carnivorous fish catch a fishing bird, which everybody seemed to be present, the sardonic caution of the whole observer onward to ultimate doom through the northern wall. In the morning Carter began another silent crawl through the onyx floor when by some voiceless order the winds of dubious scent and sounds of dubious import; ever in reverence toward the towers to see he was in the original part of the northern wall. He bade him therefore be his fault. They have forgotten the high peaks of that cataract rose to obscure the stars, or descend the wide-mouthed merchants. The final swoop of the enemy rescued several moonbeasts. Threading now the low phosphorescent clouds of night-gaunts were all close to the sight and remembrance and shelter of the poor stout black men of the curious Zoogs; forestalling their surprise attacks and forcing the invaders had now come, nor had they heard of this quarry he was alone. A large detachment of ghouls and glibbered it as clouds about a mile off the invading ship, with the silent seamen. Of what lay inside that prodigious peak of Mount Man grow smaller and slower quarry on those cyclopean steps.

Carter paused in stark terror when he passed through, letting him climb up to cast the flying steed. Such were the suburbs appeared, and in various stages of the seaport Celephaïs which lies in Ooth-Nargai beyond the Tanarian Hills, it seemed that the sunset lit with fire and roared, but in pursuing his ultimate quest for the old cat said that he was hopelessly lost in this direction; and in the cold waste lie close, and drooped always for the sunset. All around were crumbling walls and high experience of life, and when that face is vaster than a Dhole, which common folklore associates unpleasantly with the whole dank surface of their exquisite onyx city.

Ninety aeons ago, and shewing great tension until they were behind him the frightened beast, and pinnacles, but the sleepy captain said they had never been sought by any vessel because of things filtering down from aloft to say, he learned was not fair to the Cerenerian Sea. As each ghoul reached the pair of winged colossal lions guarding the top to the foul legate's orders, that the oncoming night fell over the Cerenarian Sea. The sea taverns were all out of sight or guidance.

The first two at once pursue it, and the saying of a daemon trumpet. So it was this which had once dwelt thus close to the mining country. Near sunset he came to common ears only as strange cadence and obscure melody. Day, he came to the mining country. Atal, however, had strayed into that gaping well which rumor holds to reach, deeming it likely that this was none other than the rest, and who flop unendingly in the dark, and Carter heard only the primal mysteries, and three times was he vexed on finding that the bottle was a Saxon from the under side of that dim and moving were those airs and tales that the same dark folk who had seen when sailing to Inquanok past the great black arch and emerged in the cobbled street outside. But you, that your gold and stout black slaves from Parg across the river to its mouth.

Toward noon a dark coastline appeared, and that the merchants come in and out into the void save aloft where the wares of those inconceivably old Pnakotic Manuscripts too ancient to be, for their fears, saying that the rubbery night-gaunts. After a certain hellish familiarity; and now and then one would appear driving a herd of clumping slaves, which overlooks only sheer crags and sterile abysses of lava which marked olden wrath of the seizure and torture of the injured men. And for two days the galleon made fast in the fearsome iciness of upper space, endlessly up, but these all fled with insane titters as the eye and then to sail thence for Oriab and the deck grew damp, and purred as he stood on the ground. Best of all this in finding the gods were angered with men on that far-off singing in the sun rose.

Finally, after landing, made Carter a portion, he stooped and petted the sleek complacent cats of dreamland. After that had grown nearly perpendicular, and did not cease, and wondered why the Zoogs, and wondered how close a watch had all along been kept upon him, and pray to all who beheld. The scattered spears and javelins he collected, and the howlings from the rock were heard. One moment he fancied that the wings of the Tanarians, potent and mystical, behind which lay forbidden ways into the gray headlands while still he clung to the fungous moonbeasts serve; and was ruled by an old cherished city to have no ending.

Upon their heads negatively and seemed exceedingly ancient with their bronze statues and golden minarets of ageless Celephaïs sink into the stagnant putrid harbour beyond. They talked little with the High-Priest Not To Be Described, which everybody seemed to understand the simpler part of the flower-fragrant Common and the peal of mystic music made up of horns, barbed tails that lashed needlessly and disquietingly. And hoary Nodens as their stinking green ichor oozed fatally upon that porous earth with the curious Zoogs; forestalling their surprise attacks and forcing the invaders had now begun to transfer the action farther and farther into this untraversed realm he found he could watch the coming of the crew's discovery of the dreams of the waking world than any others in terraced pyramids whereon rose clustered minarets displaying every phase of strangeness and imagination. Then, after an unguessed span of hours or days, and whiskers bristling at a tremendous speed, so that the inner thunders. Then he drew forth a curious vibrating mass of fine lava above him, while their toadlike captors slumped drowsily about in no wise dissuaded. Certainly, men reached Leng from Inquanok, and the thin, monotonous whine of accursed flutes. To Be Described; how even the great stone bridge where Naraxa joins the sea. Several moonbeasts washed on rocks or still swimming in the eyes of memory and the cabbages of Ulthar's many cats, and little red singing birds atop carven columns, and extended a languid paw as his lips opened he heard something among the Great Ones had shown already their wish, and the Skai he saw far ahead and on the smooth road beside the fire, while a panting became audible above its walls and high experience of life, though inarticulate, seemed very much, and strewn with singular relics of earth whom he had talked much of the Southern Sea with all imagined pomps and marvels, splendors and beauties, ecstasies and delights, novelties and excitements at his right. These things you will so lately have left, and was said to be seen because they have legends of the Tanarians, potent and archaic Nodens.

Carter saw that there loomed up ahead one of Throk's peaks.

#H.P. Lovecraft #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Python #Markov chains #The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath #1926 #The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath week

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