#also for some reason i keep imagining sea wearing suits but with something over the top always added to it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

witch-hazels-musings · 4 years ago

Note

Could you do some headcanons about Kaeya and Diluc with an s/o who really wants to dance with them (whether it be at a festival, party, at home, etc.) Also? I seriously respect the hell out of you for writing while working an 8-5 as someone who has to work a 9-5 and feels like i doesn’t even have time to shower at night. ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡ I hope you’re doing well! Please continue to grace us with your lovely presence!

I finished it!! Thank you for waiting for me! I hope you like it :D

^ expanded the request a bit --- I also don’t know how Kaeya’s got to be so long - so an extra special gift from me to you

warnings -> sfw, reader is pestered by some ppl, jealous characters :)

Character X GN Reader | Anthology

Includes: Kaeya, Diluc, Childe, Albedo

Kaeya

When Kaeya asked you to be his partner to one of the largest events in all of Mondstadt, you were beyond excited - this was an opportunity you had been waiting for - you’d always wanted to dance with him, and this was the perfect opportunity to do so

You did your best to get ready, not knowing if this or that outfit would be better to wear, and the anxiety of having to meet him at the event hall was weighing on you

“Y/N!” You turned your head for the thousandth time, so many voices had called out to you the moment you descended the stairs, their eyes as powerfully overwhelming as their voices. Luckily, this voice was someone you were relieved to see. Amber gripped onto your hands and pushed herself between you and the many bodies standing just a bit too close. “You look incredible! I’ve only ever seen you in your adventure clothes.”

“Haha, I couldn’t come to a ball dressed like that, could I?” You glanced down at your attire, it had taken you a long time to decide what to wear and even though you settled on this, and were getting compliment after complement, you only cared about one person's opinion. Where was he?

“Well, you look incredible!” She gripped your wrist and pulled you along, shouting at people who refused to get out of the way, her peppy voice breaking through all the many others calling for your attention. It was strange to be the center of attention. You’d seen so many of these faces around town and they didn’t seem to notice you then, so why all the affection now? It made you feel self-conscious.

When you were finally away from the sea of eager eyes, you took a deep breath. The new, less crowded space letting in relief to ease your nerves.

You looked at Amber and smiled at her, she always seemed to know how to bring you just what you needed, her kindness knew no bounds and you were we happy to have a friend like her. “Have you been here long?” You asked her.

“Pretty much, I’ve been helping plan this event for a while. I’m happy for it to be over honestly, who knew planning something like this was so exhausting.”

“Ha, maybe that’s why Diluc always has a sour expression on his face. Too many events.”

“You’re probably right! Ah, can you imagine stern Diluc planning a party? I’d die.” She laughed and the cheery vibrations seeped into your weary skin, your nerves made it easier for you to have an emotional reaction and with her disposition you found yourself laughing with her.

“So,” you looked out over the dance floor, noticing the tables full of food and drink, people standing in small circles chatting and laughing away. “Who else made it tonight?”

“Oh, are you looking for someone in particular?” She tilted her head and smiled at your flustered state.

“N-no … what … shut-up.” You frowned and looked away from her.

“I think you’ll see him soon, he had something to do but it won’t take him all night.” She must have noticed your disappointment because in an instant she made the decision to get you something to eat and stuck to your side until you had a more natural smile on your face.

Any excuse to be close to you he is all for, it doesn’t matter what the occasion is, he will find a way to hold you, touch you - he just cannot get enough of you

When he invited you to the Favonious ball, he knew you’d quickly take up his offer and join him, there wasn’t a question in his mind that you would deny it

He had several things to prepare for and was frustrated that he couldn’t bring you to the event himself, but he knew you’d show up and once you did he’d have all night to spend with you - that was if he could make his way through the barrage of people who were flocking to you as soon as you stepped through the door

He stepped through the hallway, his footsteps echoing off the walls as he made his way toward the ballroom. Lisa had given him a few ‘last minute’ wardrobe adjustments, and while she cooed over how handsome he looked, he hated how tight the suit was around his neck. He pushed his finger between the collar of his dress shirt and pulled at it.

As he turned the corner, he could already hear the sounds of the party drifting up toward him. He hoped it wasn’t too late, his work had kept him longer than he wished and it was well past the time that you said you’d be there. He was frustrated and eager to see your face.

The light from the ballroom washed over him as he stepped onto the balcony. There were still plenty of people enjoying themselves below but he only cared about one. His eyes scanned the crowd, heart filling with dread as he failed again and again at finding you among them. Then he saw you, your back leaning against one of the pillars, your arms crossed around your chest, eyes looking at the outrider who seemed to be holding you in a lively conversation.

He smiled and quickly made his way down the steps, his hands slipping into his pockets as he did so.

People were engaged in discussions, which normally he would be interested in as these were great opportunities to gather information, but his focus was on something much more important.

“I’m going to ask them…” A voice caught his attention so he slowed his pace.

“Don’t even bother, they haven’t danced with anyone the whole night. They’ve just been talking with that brunette for hours.”

“I’m pretty persistent; I know how to win someone over.” Kaeya looked at them, his gaze lingering for a moment before catching you in the same place you had been. He watched as they made their way toward you and the stab in his chest pulled at the back of his mind. Quickly, he unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, the freedom of it spurring him on as he pushed his way toward you.

“Hey, I couldn’t help but notice you haven’t danced with anyone here. I know, you’ve just been waiting for me to ask you all night.” The man smiled at you, but there was something unsettling about the way he did it.

“No thank you, I’m not interested.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun. You won’t regret it.” You were getting irritated at this point, not only had he interrupted your conversation with Amber, but he wasn’t the only person to ignore your first no.

“Again, I’m not interested.” You turned away from him hoping that if you didn’t look he’d just walk away.

He placed his hand against the pillar and leaned in closer to you and you were about to show him how strong your disinterest was when you heard a familiar voice.

“How rude of me to keep you waiting for so long, I came as soon as I could.” You looked behind the man and saw Kaeya standing there in formal attire, his beauty seemed to know no limits - frustrating.

“Kaeya!” You stood, disregarding everything and flashing him the brightest smile you could.

“Am I too late for a dance?” He held out his hand to you and without hesitation you took it. He led you to the dance floor leaving behind a confused, dejected suitor and excited Amber in your wake.

He spun you around as soon as you reached the dance floor, a hand resting on your hip and the other holding your hand. “You look stunning, did you get dressed up all for my sake?” He looked down at you and his smile made your legs weak.

“Maybe … don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.” He laughed and you forgot how much you missed him. It didn’t matter how long you waited, for him, you would wait an eternity.

“I heard a rumor about you.”

“What rumor?” You looked up at him and caught the mischief in his eyes.

“That you haven’t danced with a single person here, is that true?”

“... It is … I only …” You looked down at his chest before continuing. “I only wanted to dance with you.”

His hands squeezed around your hip and you felt him pull you closer, “How lucky am I. Sorry I made you wait.”

“No! You don’t have to apologize.” Your head shoots up to meet him, your voice a bit louder than you planned, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Well let’s give them all a show, shall we? I mean, I have to make sure they know they’ll never stand a chance.” The two of you spend the rest of the night together, the jealousy of all those who wished they were Kaeya apparent as they started to fade away the longer the two of you held one another. Kaeya couldn’t be happier, he was completely fine with them dropping all hope of being yours - that space was for him and him alone.

Diluc

You were having a great time enjoying the festivities. Practically everyone had been invited to the winery to celebrate the coming of the new season, it was one of the most popular events that could happen

The two of you had been catching each other here and there, but with how busy he was taking care of everything, and how popular you were becoming as a dance partner or at least an interested dance partner, the two of you continued to drift past the other

Diluc was getting more and more irritated as the evening went on. There were so many things distracting him from where he desperately wanted to be. Instead of being at your side, he was busy hosting conversation after conversation with potential business partners, dealing with the drunkards who couldn’t seem to keep a responsible handle on their booze, and drifting between staff to make sure they had what they needed.

Reasons like these were why he typically avoided hosting events, but it was always fruitful and he needed to keep old connections and build new ones. Still, when he had a second and his eyes drifted through the crowd to find you, he felt the heat rise in his chest as he watched you dancing in the arms of someone other than him. He wasn’t mad at you of course, he was frustrated with himself that he allowed others to touch you, you were just too kind - a trait he loved, but one that also pulled at his heart.

“They are incredible.” He heard someone share with their friend. Glancing up from his work he saw just who they were in discussion about.

“I wonder if they are seeing anyone?”

“I haven’t heard anything …Hey, If you don’t go for it, I will!” They laughed and while he couldn’t tell if their intentions held any weight, he hated that the idea was even present in their minds. Again, it was on him that people didn’t know you were seeing one another. The two of you looked like good friends with the way you respected his boundaries, and his reservation at being expressive with his affections for you. He clenched his jaw before walking away.

---

Your legs were starting to ache from the amount of activity you were requesting of them. So many people had asked you to dance, and you didn’t want to be rude, as a guest of Diluc’s you wanted to make sure to be as kind and thoughtful as you could. However, with the amount of energy you were expending on everyone else you were starting to feel the effects of it all. So when several more, slightly persistent, patrons came to ask you to dance, you found yourself leaning to decline.

“Excuse me,” they began, “If you would be so kind, I’d love to have the next dance with you.” You looked up at them and saw their nervous smile. It hurt to reject them, but you desperately wanted a break.

“Thank you, but I’m going to have to respectfully decline.” You nodded your head and noticed there were other eager dance partners standing behind them. “I need to rest a bit, everyone has been so lively, and I’m running out of stamina.” You laugh in an attempt to make your rejection more lighthearted.

“If you don’t want to dance, we can do something else!” They sat down next to you, their arms perched on the table, body leaning in way to close. They began to ask you questions, which was fine until they started to get more and more personal. You did your best to answer them, but when they asked the next question it was a challenge to get them to accept your response.

“Everyone is dying to know,” another asked, you turned your head to them and waited, “are you seeing anyone?”

You averted your gaze before responding, “Yes. I am.”

“What!?” | “There is no way?” Their voices hit you at once and the loudness of their shouting drew eyes from other party-goers. They badgered you for a bit, all asking different questions at the same time, making it hard to hear them all. One stuck out and when they spoke the group got quiet.

“I’ve never seen you with anyone.” You looked at them, their arms crossed and lips turned into a frown. “You’re pulling our legs.”

“No, I really am seeing someone.”

“I don’t believe it, you're just using that as an excuse.” Their words made you angry. You didn’t own them anything and you were being plenty kind, and, that kindness, was starting to grow thin. “Tell us who it is and then we will believe you.” They placed their hand on the table and looked directly into your eyes. You were about to answer them when you were interrupted by the person himself.

“Y/N.” He spoke and the voices around the table died down, you looked at him and felt unbelievable relief.

“Diluc.” You stood and walked toward him, his hand open for you, a gesture you were surprised by. Carefully, you placed your hand in his and scratched the side of your head.

He looked at you, his eyes heavy on your skin. “Sorry I’ve been so busy.”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind waiting.” His thumb rubbed the back of your hand, there was no way people couldn’t notice how much that affected you.

“Hey! What’s going on … are the two of you …?” The person stood up and placed their hands on their hips. Their shouting drew the eyes of others again and everyone at the table stilled as they waited for a response.

“Yes, and I ask that you don’t cause them any trouble; I won’t tolerate it.” His tone had a hint of a threat and it made your chest tight. There was a shockwave of disbelief that ran through the crowd, and the whispering made your ears burn. Diluc looked at you and you looked back, “Shall we?”

“Mhm.”

You followed after him, his broad shoulders a sight you never got tired of seeing and when the two of you held each other in movement to the music, you knew there would be no secret to your relationship now. Diluc made that clear from his words to his actions, and as the music began to fade and the sun dipped below the cliffs, he bravely showed his feelings for you as his lips touched your cheek.

Childe

He’d be all about showing you off to others - he wants to make it clear that you and he are an item no matter where you were

You went with him back to his home-town. It was a long trip, but so worth it to be with him, to see where he grew up. It took a while to get used to the chilly weather, and in fact you had to layer up extra carefully in order to bear the cold

His family had prepared for him a welcome party and had practically invited everyone they could to celebrate his return. Even if they knew it was only temporary, as his membership with the Fatui often kept him on the move, still, it was nice to feel so loved and welcomed with such a joyous event.

They also knew he would be bringing someone special back with him. It was a demand which plastered every letter he received from his siblings. He knew if he didn’t bring you along there would be a reception colder than the snow that never melted.

Of course, the two of you arrived hours before the start of the celebration. This gave his siblings and other family plenty of time to introduce themselves to you. They asked you question after question and when it was finally time to get ready for the party, you noticed how rough your voice had become. You definitely knew that Childe was a member of this family, he too knew how to wear out your voice.

Childe changed clothes quickly, it had been so long since he wore those clothes from this region. As he looked in the mirror, the way the outfit rested snuggly against him, it made him even more nostalgic than he already was. He was waiting out in the large living room, his mind playing out memories of his childhood in this house when a sound caught his attention.

His younger siblings giggled and shouted in excitement and as he turned to see what was all the fuss he felt the air in his lungs leave him. You were dressed in a traditional style outfit, your hair styled to fit your attire, hands fussing with the clothes you weren’t used to wearing. When you looked up at him and smiled shyly he felt an incredible urge to lock you behind closed doors and not let anyone lay their eyes on you.

You walked toward him, ignoring the loudness of his siblings, “They said this would be okay … Do I … look alright?”

“You look incredible.”

“Thank you.” You drop your head, looking at your hands and he desperately wants to pull your face back to him, but is interrupted before he gets the chance.

“Let’s go already, big brother!” Teucer shouts, already standing at the door.

“Shall we?” Childe extends his elbow to you and you take it.

---

He had been watching you dance with the members of his family for a while, and while it moved his heart to see you laughing and doing your best to learn the moves, he wanted to hold you in his arms himself. He wanted you, to have you experience his traditions first hand through him. So, when he couldn’t handle it any longer, he finally asked you to dance.

“You all have been keeping them so busy … I’m going to steal them back now.” He exclaimed, barging into the game you had been playing with his younger siblings.

“That’s not fair! You’ve been able to keep them to yourself for so long. We want to play more.”

“You can after I’ve had my fun, let’s go.” He pulled you away and their cries sounded as you drifted further from them.

“I was winning!” You exclaimed, laughing as he pulled you behind him.

“It’s my turn to have your attention.” He turned and pulled you close to him. You could feel his energy through his fingertips, it was familiar, like the time he saw you talking to that stranger in one of the bars of Liyue.

“Childe, you can’t seriously be jealous of your family.”

“You don’t know me at all, do you.” He spun you around and when you realized you were out on the dance floor you knew you were in trouble.

“I’m not very good at this yet.” You try to explain to him but it falls on deaf ears.

“I’ll teach you, just follow my lead.” He nodded to the musicians and they began to warm up, their music drowning out the chatter. Quickly, he leaned down and kissed your forehead before offering some last minute encouragement, “Let me show them all how spectacular you are.”

He loved every second of this. The way your feet stumbled over his as he moved with you across the dance floor, the way your face flashed through different expressions: joy, concern, embarrassment, confidence. He couldn’t get enough of you, there was never enough of you. How was he ever going to be satiated with you around, especially when you were embracing his home, his family with such unbound acceptance.

He wanted to swallow you up, he wanted to lock you to him for the rest of time, and the more you let him take, the stronger his desire became.

As the music drifted into its final crescendo he lifted you in his arms and spun you around. There were countless couples surrounding you, all shouting and cheering on the excitement that rippled from the center of the dance floor. When he stopped and you slid a bit down his chest, your shoulders at the height of his chin, hands gripping tightly on his shoulders and face dipping down to him with a smile that told him everything he ever needed to know about you, he let the words fall from his mouth, finally being as honest as he ever had been.

“I love you.”

Albedo

Albedo wasn’t too fond of parties and get-togethers, it was a lot of energy to expend on the discussions or interactions which he’d much prefer to stay clear of, at least if he can get away with it. Still, he had promised to make an appearance, and when he saw you he was much more inclined to stay

He loved to watch you have a great time, you were so independent, doing things whenever you felt like it and experiencing life as it happened. Unless it was explicitly told to others, most wouldn’t have any idea that the two of you were seeing each other. Most of the time that wasn’t a problem, as your busy schedules kept you distracted, but as he watched you mingle with the citizens and partake in the festivities, and how you drew the attention of interested eyes, he was starting to get jealous

These sorts of festivals drew in travelers from all over Teyvat. Most of them only blew in with the wind while others stayed longer after the final banner was removed. It was something that almost everyone in Mondstadt took part in, even those who often didn’t get out much -- and he was one of them.

Albedo made his way through the streets greeting citizens as he passed by, a quick nod or hello here and there. It was Sucrose who had encouraged him to take a break, reminding him that he was likely to see you down in the festivities. So, he put away his work for the day and headed out of the research labs toward the cheering below.

When he saw it was like the sun shined on his face for the first time in days. He felt so warm and was eager to reach you. As he got closer, he couldn’t help but notice the many faces that were turned to you. It was strange but he tried not to let that oddity hender him in any way. That’s when he started to hear the conversation you were having with someone, the closeness of them to you, and the way they didn’t seem to leave you alone.

It wasn’t like him, either, to let his emotions get the better of him, but having to listen and watch others take notice of you, something inside of him grew and he wanted to make sure they knew their hands would never reach yours.

“Hey.” A man walked up to you and injected himself in the conversation you were having. You stopped what you were doing and glanced at him, curious. “Would you be interested in dancing with me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m not much of a dancer.” You smiled at him and tried to let him down easy. In fact you’d love to dance, but only if it was with a particular person, and he didn’t seem to be around at the moment.

“It’s okay if you aren’t, I’m happy to teach you some moves.” He took a step closer and his first impression of friendliness was slipping into pushiness.

You started to tap your fingers against your leg, the motion becoming more intense the closer he got. “Really, I’m not a good dancer, you’ll find more luck with someone else.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” He reached for your hand but was blocked by another. When you looked at the owner and saw it was Albedo, your stomach flipped.

“Albedo?” You turned to him, a smile on your face and relief in your voice.

“Excuse me, but I believe they said they weren’t interested?”

“... ha, what are you their boyfriend?” They laughed and continued talking, “Listen, why don’t you let …”

“Yes, I am.” Albedo interjected, cutting the person off.

“What?”

“We are together.” They looked confused, their eyes moving back between yours and Albedo’s. Albedo looked down at you and noticed the expression on your face, “Is that not the right way to describe our relationship?”

“No! I mean, yes, that’s right.” You looked at the person and gestured to Albedo, “This is my boyfriend, I’m his … we’re together, yes.” You nodded your head way too many times, but the point seemed to get across to them anyway. They left in a huff and you watched them leave before standing and turning to Albedo.

It was the first time the two of you had ever really said those words out loud - of course you knew in your minds that you were a couple … but to say the term which let the outside world know of your relationship, well it was so exciting

You felt your face get hot as you remembered how factually he had spoken, how quickly he answered their question. You couldn’t help but pat your face and pinch your cheeks

After that, the two of you wandered through the festival, eating delicious food, participating in the activities, laughing and having interesting discussions, as you always did

When night started to drift over the event and only a few people remind in the city center, you found yourself back in the place where your time together started, music drifting through the air

You had such an incredible day. There were times the two of you were so busy that you would go days without seeing one another, so to spend an entire afternoon together was like a gift.

“Today was incredible.” You express, the excitement and joy from the day making you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

“I can tell you had a good day.” Albedo replies, smiling at you.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, you click your tongue like that when you’re happy … sometimes when you’re focused.”

“Ah, really! I’ve never noticed.”

“I think it’s cute.” He stepped closer and grabbed your hand, his grip soft and gentle. “So I know you don’t like to … I was wondering … would you like to dance with me?”

“Yes!” You answered much quicker than he expected, your voice startling him a little. You covered your mouth and laughed, your eyes squinting.

“Let’s go.” You took his hand and walked until the space felt right. Albedo let go of you before turning to look at you. With an elegant bow he requested your hand once again, you returned the gesture, not wanting to be rude and also trying your best to not scream with excitement. The music swelled and your bodies moved closer, his hands wrapping around your back while yours draped over his shoulders. You rested your head against his chest and let the wonderful day drift into a wonderful night, you and Albedo sharing in a moment with one another. No worries, no interruptions, just one another swaying to the sweet mixture of music and distant conversations.

“I’m glad you could make it today.”

“Me too.”

596 notes · View notes

syn0vial · 4 years ago

Note

Top 5 Boba moments 🥺

ohh fun! :D i’m gonna go in chronological order for these, just for organization’s sake. i’m also going to try and only include moments i haven’t talked much about before, just to keep things fun and fresh!

1. freeing the sea mice: starting from the very first boba fett junior novel the fight to survive, bc, well, chronological order! i like this moment bc it really emphasizes how innocent boba used to be. basically, there’s an aquarium with an eel in the fett’s kamino apartment and while jango and zam are off making bad decisions on coruscant, boba is tasked with it feeding aquatic rodents called “sea-mice” to the eel, something he’s never had to do before. but he doesn’t like doing it. the sea-mice always seem to trust him when he picks them up and he feels guilty for betraying them by feeding them to the eel. so, one day, he decides it’s going to be different. that morning, he feeds the eel his own breakfast (which is like, both sweet and hilarious, like honey did you really just throw your lunchables into an eel’s tank bc you wanted to make sure it was fed even while you’re out here freeing feeder mice? A+ for good intentions, F- for knowledge of how animals work) and tries to free a few of the sea-mice into kamino’s oceans. unfortunately, they don’t survive. the next day, boba reluctantly goes back to feeding the mice to the eel, telling one before he drops it in, “sorry; life is hard on the small and the weak,” echoing a saying of his father’s. this then becomes horrible foreshadowing for the rest of the series, in which boba is orphaned and suddenly finds himself being preyed upon by all sorts of antagonists. i know it’s a kids’ series and it’s Not That Deep, but i do really like that there’s a parallel created between boba and the mouse and the implication of the series as a whole that boba fett didn’t become a notorious hunter because he was always that way, but specifically because he started out as prey. also, it’s kind of hilarious in retrospect that boba felt compassion for rodents, but literally days later attempted to take obi-wan’s life without hesitation. kid’s really got his priorities in order.

2. standing up to jabba the hutt: this is from the junior novel boba fett: hunted, which is my favorite of the junior novels for him. in the story, boba pretends a short-statured adult by concealing his face with his father’s helmet and attempts to find work from jabba the hutt. however, when he finally gets an audience with jabba, jabba indeed offers to bring him back to his palace—as an indentured servant. and this freaking, like, eleven-year-old, staring down the criminal kingpin of tatooine with no weapons and no armor besides a too-big helmet, snaps at jabba the hutt, “my debt to you? what do i owe you for?” naturally, he is immediately set upon by one of jabba’s guards, and, well, i’ll let you read the rest :D

Boba had no time to think. He acted.

Without a sound, he leaped to one side. The Drovian’s knife whistled harmlessly through the air where, a nanosecond before, Boba had been.

“Huh?” gaped the hulking alien.

A small table stood near the viewscreen. Boba grabbed the table and swung it in front of himself, fending off the Drovian’s blade. Jabba himself watched, laughing coarsely.

“You will pay for this!” croaked the Drovian.

As the guard bore down on him, Boba thrust the table upward. The knife stuck in the wood surface. While the Drovian struggled to free his weapon, Boba pushed the table up farther. Then, he darted sideways, kicking at the lumbering guard’s knees. With a groaning thud, the Drovian stumbled and fell. Jabba’s guests laughed as Boba turned to breathlessly face Jabba.

“I am no one’s slave or servant!” Boba said. “I will work for you, for a price—but I will name that price!”

like, this kid really just brought down an armed adult with nothing but an end table AND finishes it off with a badass line defending his autonomy and defying jabba the hutt! definitely one of my favorite moments from the junior novels.

3. the Look he exchanges with lando while han is being tortured in the background

look, idk why this is so funny to me, but it is. lando’s just so full of loathing for this man who is complicit in forcing him to betray han and boba’s just like “you got shit to say to me. or nah?” he’s such a fucking asshole, i love it.

4. staying conscious just long enough to express his displeasure with the situation in iiiiii think the mandalorian armor, idk it’s been awhile: this story takes place post-RoTJ, after boba has escaped the sarlacc pit, killing it in the process, and is being gradually regaining his strength with the help of fellow bounty hunter dengar and amnesiac former slave neelah. at this point in the story, he’s still quite weak and spends most of his time slipping in and out of consciousness. unfortunately, some of boba’s enemies find out he’s still alive and just start fucking carpet-bombing their general location, so dengar and neelah go “shit, we need a bomb shelter, stat!”...and then slowly turn to look at the subterranean corpse of the sarlacc pit. they thus drag boba’s unconscious body back into the pit so they can all hunker down and wait out the bombs. except, surprise, surprise! the sarlacc ain’t completely dead. one of its giant tentacles starts attacking the group and is succeeding in getting the upper hand over dengar and neelah, when suddenly, boba wakes up. takes a look around and realizes where he is. and then grabs the nearest blaster and just goes apeshit firing on the tentacle, finally managing to kill it. too exhausted to talk, he then turns and fixes dengar with the angriest, most hate-filled glare the man has ever seen... and then promptly passes out. i remember just dissolving into giggles the first time i read that scene. just the mental image of boba fett giving dengar the scariest fucking “why the fuck did you fucking bring me back here” deathglare in the galaxy and then immediately losing consciousness. energy well-spent, boba.

5. that time boba did a mission completely in his underwear for no discernible reason, because daniel keys moran: this one’s just like. so delightfully bizarre that i’m not even going to try justifying it logically bc literally the only reason it exists was bc renowned EU author and certified mad man daniel keys moran really wanted to give boba his strong female character moment, because he deserves it. so, in this subplot, boba is tracking this devaronian war criminal who is holed up in a safehouse equipped with security systems that are triggered by the presence of, like, metal. which means boba can’t wear his armor plates and can’t use any blasters or other gadgetry. so boba loads up a compound bow and knife and makes to hunt this guy down. now, what about his armor? obviously, the most logical thing to do would be to just remove the metal plates and hunt in his flight suit. or, if that isn’t satisfactory, go out and buy like, leather armor or something? or just clothes? BUT NOPE. boba apparently goes, “well, if i can’t wear my armor, i’m not gonna wear ANYTHING” and just. does the entire mission in his underwear. he tracks and stalks this man, shoots him with an arrow, and then chases him down with a knife, ALL IN HIS UNDERWEAR. daniel keys moran even goes so far as to explicitly specify that these ain’t no long-johns, either. he’s like, “and the underwear...... MAINLY COVERED HIS DICK.” LIKE, DANIEL? DANIEL? HOW IS IT THAT OUT OF THE TWO BOBA FETT STORIES YOU’VE WRITTEN, BOTH OF THEM MENTION HIS DICK IN SOME CAPACITY? DANIEL? WHO KEEPS LETTING YOU GET AWAY WITH THIS??? and, like, can you imagine being this poor devaronian? you’re just living your fugitive war criminal life when an arrow hits you in the shoulder and boba fucking fett comes sprinting out of the woods at you in his underwear with a knife? what the fuck. this was canon at one point. what the fuck.

#boba fett #in which you can tell i wrote this list in the hours leading up to bed-time #by how increasingly unhinged it becomes lmao #the EU was a wild place #lastwordbeforetheend

328 notes · View notes

peaceisadirtyword · 4 years ago

Text

Move On VIII (Modern!Ivar/Reader)

A/N: Hello!♥️ Two weeks later, here you go! I only have two things to say: 1. please don't hate me 2. forgive me because it's too long and it might be a bit boring bc my brain was a bit dry this week. BUT the ending is intense. I almost divided it in two different chapters but I'm ending it on chapter 10 and I already have everything planned😔 Please remember there's two chapters left and anything could happen👀 Now enjoy and thanks for reading!

Warnings: fluff, a bit of angst, Hvitty is the best, Alfred is cute, Ivar is Ivar, there's smut, mentions of alcohol, mentions of anxiety and I think that's all!

Words: 7122 (the longest chapter I've ever written sorry)

Move On Masterlist

my three favorite boys by @therealcalicali

You had thought about your wedding day, like every single person on Earth. You imagined it being outside, maybe near the sea, or in the forest, maybe the gardens of a beautiful palace. But for some reason, you never imagined the groom's face. It was always about you, the place and the music, the dress, the flowers, the cake... Until you met Ivar.

Getting married wasn't something you wished to do soon, it could wait. It was more a future plan than a wish, because in some way getting married and having a child was something that scared you. Ivar managed to make you change your mind, suddenly you weren't that scared of having kids or the commitment that implies a wedding. It would be fine as long as he was the one waiting for you at the end of the aisle and the one holding your baby. It would be fine as long as it was him there with you.

Weddings were a celebration of love. At least that was what everyone said, two people that loved each other enough to try and make it last forever. Maybe they gave too much importance to the wedding itself and forgot the love part. Or maybe you were so bitter about anything romantic or related to love that you stopped thinking about them as a love gesture and started seeing it as a contract.

You hadn't heard about Ivar again. Not since that day that ended so badly. Hvitserk said he was still with Freydis, and soon he just stopped talking about him at all. Maybe hoping you'd get over him faster if he didn't mention him. But it wasn't really working.

At least you stopped crying. Now it was more like a sad grimace whenever you thought about it, and sometimes, Hvitserk realized you'd stop talking and looked away, biting your lip and probably thinking about him. Especially when there was something that reminded you of him.

But the problem of being so close to someone, shaping your entire life around him and sharing everything together was that there wasn't really anything that didn't remind you of him.

Alfred, Thora and Hvitserk had organized to be around you all the time. Distracting you, forcing you to go out and Hvitserk even let you do his makeup once. Sometimes it was annoying, but you couldn't be mad at them, they were just trying to make you feel better.

You tried to convince Thora and Hvitserk to go to the wedding together, but she didn't want to go to said wedding. As you promised Alfred you'd go with him, he'd be the one picking you up, and you'd see Hvitserk in there.

Of course, Ubbe and Torvi chose a beautiful forest near their own home to celebrate the wedding. A pagan wedding. You had been to a few of those with Ivar, as he and his family still worshipped the Norse gods. But this time you felt like an intruder, as you weren't even part of the family anymore, and your date was a Christian man.

The dress Hvitserk chose didn't look that good on you at home as it had looked on the changing rooms, as always, but you forced yourself to wear it with confidence. You even practiced walking with the new heels you had bought, and at that point you just wished you wouldn't fall in front of everyone.

You chose a very natural makeup, and a simple hairstyle that was within your humble means. You didn't want to draw attention and wished that the guests wouldn't recognize you. The last thing you needed was people talking about you and Ivar.

Traditions were traditions, nonetheless, and you wore red underwear to try and feel a bit sexier. Even if you had tried to get rid of the red dresses and underwear you wore to catch Ivar's attention, that red set in particular was too precious for you. It was the first one he bought you, and you still remembered the first night you wore it.

And, why am I thinking about Ivar now?

You sighed and looked at your own reflect on the mirror. You were ready, just needed to put those deadly traps on your feet and grab your purse. Alfred had called and he was on his way.

Oh yeah, because you're seeing him today. For the first time in months, you were going to see him again and with Freydis on his arm. You didn't even know how you'd react, but it had given you nightmares for days.

The doorbell rang, and you finished putting on the heels before walking to the door and opening it. Alfred looked like a prince, with his black suit and a flower on his hand. A sunflower. It made you smile more than it was socially acceptable.

"Hi" you waved at him "You look good" you winked at him, Alfred chuckled and blushed softly.

"Hello" he nodded politely "You look..." he stopped to look at you in the eye and sighed "Absolutely beautiful"

"Oh, um..." you looked down, flustered "Thank you, I... Didn't expect a compliment now"

Alfred smiled and took your hand, making you twirl and giggle.

"This is for you" he gave you the sunflower. You bit your lip and took it.

"You're always giving me flowers"

"Because you deserve them" he shrugged "Are you ready?"

You nodded. Taking the purse you left next to the door and checking you had everything.

"Okay" you sighed "Let's go"

__________________________________

As soon as you got out of the car someone covered your eyes. You laughed and grabbed his arms to avoid losing your balance.

"Hvitserk" you put his hands away and turned to look at him "Look at you! You look nice"

He did look nice. His dirty blonde hair was braided and the suit looked good on him, it made his green eyes stand out.

"You look very nice too" he winked at you, his flirtatious smirk made you roll your eyes "Nice dress, who chose it?"

"Someone with a very good taste, obviously" you laughed "Are we late?"

Hvitserk turned to greet Alfred. The both of them weren't exactly friends, but thanks to you they were at least civil with each other and you were more than happy with that.

"You're just on time" he sighed "The guests are starting to get in" he pointed at the small path adorned with flowers and wooden decorations that entered the forest "Ubbe is already there, he's surprisingly relaxed, considering the fact he's marrying Torvi" Hvitserk muttered the last part and you raised an eyebrow.

"I would like to say hello to Ubbe before the ceremony starts" said Alfred with a small smile. He was very close to Ubbe, and worked with him frequently. You could say Ubbe was his favorite Lothbrok, and you couldn't blame him.

Hvitserk nodded and stepped back.

"I have to look for my brother, he told me he was close" he explained "But go, I'll catch you later"

My brother, Hvitserk now only referred to Ivar as 'his brother', noticing how you sometimes flinched when you heard his name, even if it was just because the thought of him startled you.

You grabbed Alfred's arm and hoped you wouldn't fall with the heels, he seemed to think the same, because he held you tightly.

"Doesn't it bother you that this is a pagan wedding?" You asked, genuinely curious when you caught a glance of the cross that hang from his neck. It belonged to his biological father, who passed away before he was born.

Alfred seemed amused at the question.

"I'm not bothered by people believing in other Gods, Y/N" he chuckled "In fact, I find paganism very interesting, and Ubbe told me a lot about his Gods and Goddesses, it's interesting, and I don't think my own God would be mad at me for respecting other beliefs"

You nodded slowly. Alfred was very religious, but not on an obsessive way. It was one of the things you liked about him, how relaxed but loyal he was about his religion.

Ivar was also very religious, but focused on a very different religion. It was something they had in common even if they wouldn't ever recognize it, but you could see it in both of them.

"Besides, I'll confess that Norse weddings are often much more fun than the Christian weddings" he added with a smile.

"Oh, are you getting drunk tonight?" you teased with a small smile. Alfred shook his head but laughed.

"Maybe" he raised an eyebrow "But only if you drink with me"

"Obviously" you rolled your eyes "On the last wedding I went to, Hvitserk, Ivar and I stole a bottle of tequila and got drunk on the car while listening to my favorite playlist"

"Wow" he laughed again "Okay, I'll try to keep up with you then"

There was a lot of people at the clearing already. You remembered Ubbe's first wedding, the first one you attended to with Ivar. He looked more relaxed now, and happier.

"Alfred" he greeted your companion with a big smile and a bone-crushing hug. Alfred smiled widely and hugged him back "You look good, man, thanks for coming"

"Of course, Ubbe" when they separated, he touched his shoulder firmly "I'm happy for you"

"I was a bit confused when your family arrived without you" Ubbe pointed to a group of people. When you turned to look at them, they turned around to pretend they weren't looking at you, making you raise an eyebrow and Alfred frown and blush "But I see you have better company" he laughed "Hello, Y/N"

When he leant in to hug you, you sighed. Ubbe gave the best hugs ever.

"Hi" you smiled "Thank you for inviting me"

"Are you joking?" he shook his head "You're like my sister, of course we'd invite you, you look pretty" he nodded "My mother is going to be thrilled to see you" he pointed at Aslaug, who stood all alone away from the crowd "She scolded all of us during the last family dinner, saying how you were too good for this family and we didn't appreciate you enough"

You smiled softly, Aslaug always treated you like a daughter.

"I'm gonna go say hello to her" you looked back at them. Alfred nodded and watched you leave until Ubbe hit his head softly with a smirk.

Aslaug never had a good relationship with the rest of the family. Ivar told you no one truly accepted her when Ragnar divorced Lagertha, and she spent most of the time taking care of Ivar. When Ragnar left, she just ignored them.

Ubbe was right, her eyes lightened up and she gave you a big smile when you approached.

"Y/N! Oh, Gods, you look so beautiful" she hugged you tightly "How have you been? I asked Hvitserk about you but he wasn't very specific"

"Hi" you smiled back at her "I'm fine, I think, you look beautiful too"

She seemed to like that comment. She did look very pretty, with her wavy, blonde hair braided and wearing a beautiful blue dress.

"I'm so glad to see you" she sighed "I missed you, you have to come with Hvitserk some day"

You wondered if she knew about the fact that you had slept with Hvitserk. But just when you were about to reply, she looked at someone just behind you, and you tensed up. There was only one person that could make Aslaug smile like that, and you weren't too excited to see him.

When you turned around, you forgot how to breath for a moment. Ivar wore a dark grey suit, that made his deep blue eyes shine like sapphires. He leant into the crutch and walked slowly, looking around with his eyebrow raised, as if he truly believed no one was worthy of his presence. After months without seeing him, thinking you were actually making progress in moving on, you realized you were still too into him. He was just too much.

When you were able to tear your eyes off of him, you realized Freydis was with him, dressed in red and looking so effortlessly beautiful that you felt like crying again.

Hvitserk reached you first, greeting his mother with a kiss on her cheek and putting his arm around your shoulders.

"Come on, let's go, this is about to begin" he whispered. When you left, you could feel Ivar's eyes on you, nearly burning. You didn't dare to look at him.

_______________________________________

Torvi was so beautiful on her white dress and the flower crown on top of the small braids on her hair that you couldn't help but tear up a bit. Ubbe looked at her with such an intensity, with eyes so full of love that you envied both of them for a moment. They couldn't stop looking at each other, they were so lost in themselves that barely listened to the völva that married them. To be fair, you barely listened either. It made you wish you had someone to look at like that, someone that looked at you like that. A few months earlier, you thought you had it.

Maybe you still could have it, with Alfred. He was the sweetest person you had ever met, and he treated you like a queen, always giving you space and making sure you were okay. You loved him so much you thought you'd explode if he had another sweet gesture with you, but it wasn't romantic love. You could try and maybe in some more months you could fall in love with him, but you didn't want to break his heart, he didn't deserve it.

And Hvitserk? He was your best friend, but even if you could feel attracted to him, you knew it wouldn't work. And both Alfred and Hvitserk deserved true love. But it wasn't you.

Ivar sat on the front rows, with his brothers and his parents. Freydis was sitting next to him, but they didn't touch each other. In fact, they barely talked. Then the völva talked about twin flames, about true love that always found its way through every single obstacle, and when you looked at him, he was looking right back at you.

______________________________________

"You're back to drinking, huh?" Hvitserk laughed while sitting next to you. You groaned and bit your lip to hold back a laugh.

"I needed it" you pouted, looking at the drink you just ordered "Alfred introduced me to his family, but I don't think they like me very much"

Hvitserk stole your drink and took a sip, making you glare at him.

"His family is very protective of him" he shrugged "And you're probably not very popular considering you're Ivar's ex"

You turned your head to look at them, standing at the other side of the room. Judith, Alfred's mother, at least had been nice, but Aethelwulf, his (adoptive) father, looked at you suspiciously. You already knew Aethelred, his brother, but even if he greeted you politely, he didn't seem too happy with you either.

You also spent some time with the newlyweds, Bj��rn and his wife and Lagertha, but you also felt out of place. In fact, you didn't feel comfortable until you stepped away from the crowd and reached the bar.

"There's food there, Hvitserk" you snatched your drink from his hand "Leave my drink alone"

He chuckled.

"I figured you needed some company, you look a bit sad here all alone" he shrugged again "Besides, I don't really feel comfortable in there" he frowned. The guests were finishing their food and getting up to dance and talk around the room. The venue in which the feast took place belonged to a friend of Ubbe's, so they had gotten the biggest salon.

Aslaug chatted with Floki and Helga, Ragnar tried to flirt with an amused Lagertha and Sigurd and Ivar had argued at least three times during the feast, with Björn interfering to avoid a possible murder. So the atmosphere was a bit tense and awkward.

"Remind me to never celebrate a wedding with my family" Hvitserk sighed. You giggled and shook your head "I mean it, is there anything worse than a wedding with a dysfunctional family?"

"A wedding with a functional family" you raised an eyebrow "That would be boring"

Fortunately, no one paid too much attention to you. Helga greeted you excitedly, and Floki hugged you and told you Freki missed you. You teared up remembering the sweet husky they had in Iceland. Sigurd was also nicer to you now than when you were with Ivar. Blaeja smiled to you shyly. Everything was awkward and felt weird, like you shouldn't be there.

The only one you hadn't talked to was Ragnar and, of course, Ivar. After he was finished eating, he sat down with Freydis. She tried to say hello to you with a sweet smile but Alfred had interrupted her and took you away. You nearly kissed him in gratitude.

"My father asked about you" Hvitserk added when he saw you staring at Ragnar, who was now talking to Harald Finehair.

"Really?" you frowned "I didn't think he'd remember me"

Even if you had been with Ivar for years, you had only met his father a few times, during important events or festivities. Usually, he was traveling the world, working and avoiding his responsibilities as a husband and a father.

"Of course he remembers you, he always asked about you... Don't tell anyone, but you were his favorite daughter-in-law, remember that time when you managed to make Ivar apologize to Sigurd after he insulted him during Jul? He was impressed"

"And he told you that" you rolled your eyes, thinking Hvitserk was probably making it up to make you feel better.

"Yes, he did, he also called Ivar a fucking idiot when he heard he left you, it was the first time I agreed with my father in a long time"

That made you smile.

"Your family is too nice with me" you sighed "I'm gonna miss them"

That startled Hvitserk.

"What? Why? Where are you going?" he glared at you "You're not leaving"

"I don't know" you took another sip of your drink "I talked to Alfred about it, he had friends in England that could help me get a job there and..."

"England?" Hvitserk scowled "You're moving to England?"

"I'm not" his indignation amused you "Not for now, I think, it's just an idea"

"You can't leave me here" he pouted "Who is going to come with me to the pub then?"

"I'm sure you'd find someone to get drunk with pretty soon"

He shook his head, and the two of you stayed in silence for a couple of minutes.

"It's impossible to replace you, Y/N" he whispered "You're too special for that"

"Aw" you felt a lump in your throat and the urge to hug him "That's sweet, Hvitty"

"I mean it" he winked at you "You're great, I just wish you saw it too"

"Keep saying these things to me and I'll give you my drink"

He smiled, but shook his head and stood up.

"I'm going to talk to Ubbe" he announced, you saw he was now talking to Floki and Aslaug, away from Björn and Lagertha "I have something to give to him"

You nodded and watched him leave with a small smile. Once again, you should have fallen in love with him.

_______________________________

After three drinks, you stopped feeling intimidated by the crowd, at least a bit, and felt brave enough to get closer to it. Your eyes fixed on Ivar and Freydis, still sitting down and who seemed to be having a deep conversation. It didn't look good, but before you could even start wondering what they were talking about, someone put their arm around you, startling you.

"Hello, Y/N" you turned around to see Ragnar, already a bit drunk and with a big smile on his lips. His eyes, so similar to Ivar's, seemed to look directly into your soul "Long time no see"

"Hi" you smiled at him "How are you?"

He frowned, then grimaced and then shook his head.

"I'm... Alive" he shrugged "So, you and little Alfred?"

Ragnar Lothbrok wasn't one to beat around the bush.

"We're friends" you chuckled "He's been an amazing friend to me these past months"

"Yeah, after my... Brilliant son fucked it up" he clenched his jaw, taking a sip of his beer "Alfred is a really good kid, son of a great man"

"He's the best" you nodded "Did you know his father?"

For the first time, the smile on Ragnar's face faltered.

"Yes, I did" he cleared his throat "He was a very good friend of mine"

"He'd be proud of his son, then" you smiled, looking at Alfred who was currently talking to his brother.

"He would" Ragnar nodded "Unfortunately, I can't say the same for my own sons" he muttered, and you raised an eyebrow.

"Why?" you chuckled.

"I must admit it's my fault" he sighed "They inherited it from me, the capacity of ruining everything when they have a great woman by their side" you'd swear his eyes fixed on Lagertha and then on Aslaug for a moment "Ivar is the smartest boy I've ever seen, but he can also be stupid sometimes, you know it, because you understand him better than anyone, better than himself, even than his own mother" you bit your lip, looking away "And I know he regrets it"

"Look, I really love Ivar" you sighed "I will always love him because he was a very important part of my life for years, but he's happy with Freydis now, and I'm glad he's happy"

Ragnar chuckled, shaking his head.

"I'd argue with you on that, but Alfred is coming and I think you deserve a good time with him now rather than talking about my son" he winked "See you around, Y/N"

Before you could reply, he left, walking towards the bar as he finished his drink.

"Hello" Alfred stopped next to you, also looking at Ragnar with an eyebrow raised "Everything okay?"

You turned your head and smiled softly at him.

"Yes, I think" you giggled "It's just Ragnar being weird"

He hummed, like he understood exactly what you meant.

"I just wanted to ask you if you..." he looked around with a frown, and blushed furiously "Maybe, want to dance?"

You were surprised, thinking no one really danced at these things, but a quick look around made you realized that people were definitely dancing, or well, at least they were trying.

Ubbe and Torvi moved slowly together, with their foreheads pressed together and a small smile on their lips. Around them, some couples danced at the rhythm of a slow song.

"Oh, um..." you licked your lips, nervously "Sure, I'd love to"

Alfred looked relieved, and took your hand softly, leading you to the dance floor. Or well, the part of the salon on which people danced.

He knew how to dance, of course he did. You nearly rolled your eyes when he whispered that you should put your hand on his shoulder and started leading your movements. He was too soft, too polite and too perfect. You looked at his face intensely as he danced and you moved clumsily with him. He didn't make eye contact, too nervous and always looking down.

"Alfred" you pouted "You're one of the most amazing men I've ever met" you stopped moving to hug him "Oh my god, I wish I could..."

He hugged you back, nodding against your neck.

"I wish that too" he muttered "But I can't force you"

"I tried, I really did, and I love you so much, but..."

"Hey" he stopped hugging you, and cupped your face softly "Look at me, Y/N, you don't have to explain yourself, you feel what you feel and it's fine, I'll get over it" he giggled as you teared up, feeling the worst person in the world "We're friends, and that will never change"

You nodded.

"Thank you" you took a deep breath "For everything"

"Of course" he smiled "I think it's time you start being a bit more selfish and put yourself first, stop worrying about what the others are feeling, focus on yourself"

You hugged him again and kissed his cheek.

"I'm gonna go get some air" you took a deep breath "I'll be back, okay?"

He nodded, letting you go. You rushed to the door and left the building, only breathing again when you were out in the garden. It was a pretty entrance, with cobblestones, a lovely fountain and some flowers. At least it was peaceful and quiet. Or you thought it was, because you heard a metal noise and a groan, which made you jump and gasp before you looked to the side.

It was already dark, and the only source of light were the lovely streetlights adorned with ivy. It came from one of the benches at the side of the entrance, and you nearly cried when you saw the source of the noise.

"Ivar?" you sighed, drying your tears with your fingers "What are you doing here?"

He raised his head and glared at you with his jaw clenched, he had been focused on his braces and didn't even hear you approaching. When he didn't reply, you frowned and walked towards him, walking slowly to avoid falling down with the damned heels.

"Where's Freydis?" you asked softly, understanding something was wrong.

"She left" his voice sounded dry and empty, almost as if he had been crying.

"Why?"

"Because I told her to leave" he pouted. Ivar had the tendency to pout, and he hated when you said he looked cute doing it, probably thinking he looked intimidating.

You sat down on the bench, and decided not to ask because he didn't seem too inclined to talk about it.

"What's wrong with the braces?" you asked slowly.

"I don't know" he groaned, grabbing his right leg "I think I moved it and..." his lip started trembling when he started fiddling with it again.

"Stop" you tried to grab his hand, but he ignored you "Ivar, stop, you're going to hurt yourself"

"Why do you care?" he raised his voice, making you scoff "Why don't you go back there with Alfred?"

"Don't yell" you glared at him "After everything you've done, you don't get to yell at me"

He took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes with his hands and shaking his head.

"I want to go home" he sighed "I can't go back there"

"Hey, what happened?" you were starting to get worried, because that wasn't like Ivar "Should I call your brothers? Your mother?"

"No" he shrugged "They will just rant about how stupid I am for letting you go"

You looked away again.

"You did hurt me" you muttered "A lot"

Ivar didn't look at you either.

"That's the worst part" he scoffed "That they're right"

This time you did look at him, surprised and with your lips parted. For a moment, you felt the need to hug and kiss him, but you couldn't.

"If you know they're right why did you do it? And I don't mean breaking up with me, I mean being so cruel, treating me like I was nothing to you"

"I don't know, Y/N" he sighed tiredly "I was angry, you moved on"

"I didn't move on!" you scoffed "Dear God, Ivar, I couldn't move on, I spent the worst months of my life trying to but I couldn't, you're such an asshole" you groaned "You broke up with me, acted like I was nothing but a burden to you, you made me feel like I wasn't good enough, and then had the audacity of acting like I was the one that fucked everything up!"

Ivar's eyes were full of tears when he raised his head again.

"I don't feel like talking about that now"

You were about to keep ranting when you looked at his eyes for the first time, and gasped when you saw how blue they were.

"Did you take your medicines today?" you frowned when he shook his head "Why? Oh God" you groaned "Should we go to the hospital?"

He shook his head again.

"I just want to go home"

"Are you in too much pain, Ivar? Wait, I'll call a cab" you unlocked your phone and stood up.

_________________________________

You had never seen Ivar like that. So quiet and sad, looking at his own feet and not even reacting when you sat down next to him again.

"The cab will be here in ten minutes" you announced softly, regretting being to harsh on him a few minutes earlier "Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital? Maybe we should, it might get worse, what if something happens?" you bit your lip nervously "I should go and tell your family"

"No" he grabbed your arm when you were about to stand up again "Don't tell them, it'll be fine as soon as I get home, take the pills and rest a bit"

"Okay" you sighed "But at least let me get Hvitserk so he can go with you"

Ivar's face changed again, this time he looked like a lost puppy, his pouty lips parted and his eyes fixed on yours, nearly begging.

"Aren't you coming with me?" he whispered, and you sighed.

"I shouldn't" you muttered in reply "I don't think..."

"Please" he insisted, and you noticed the two of you were too close "We need to talk"

He was so soft, so vulnerable in that moment that you nodded slowly, and let yourself lean into him slowly just before you heard someone calling your name.

Hvitserk left the building at the same time you got away from Ivar quickly turning your head to look at him. Ivar looked irritated by the interruption, but didn't say anything.

"Hey" he looked surprised to see the both of you there "Y/N, Alfred said you'd be out here" he frowned "Ivar, I was looking for you... Is everything okay?"

"Hi" you smiled softly "Ivar is not feeling good, he's in pain" you explained, standing up and approaching him "I called a cab"

Hvitserk's big brother side showed up when he walked over to Ivar, frowning.

"You didn't take the medicines?"

"I fought with Freydis, I forgot" he shrugged.

"Where is she?" Hvitserk looked around, a bit confused.

Ivar didn't reply, but they seemed to understand each other perfectly.

You gave them a few minutes together, until you approached them again. Hvitserk stood up with a sigh and shook his head.

"You can leave" he said softly, caressing your arm "I will stay with him"

You heard the cab arriving and looked at Ivar.

"I..." you took Hvitserk's hands "Maybe I should stay with him"

He took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head.

"Y/N..."

"It's okay" you chuckled "It's fine, Hvitserk, I'm fine"

"Are you sure?" he whispered "He is..."

"I know, and it will be okay, we... Need to talk, I think"

If Hvitserk thought you were stupid, he didn't say it.

"If you need anything, call me, okay?"

You nodded as he kissed your temple softly. You could feel Ivar's eyes on you, burning, when the cab stopped next to you and Hvitserk turned to help him.

____________________________________

It felt too familiar to enter their flat, to help Ivar sit on the couch before taking the medicines to him with a glass of water. You were so used to the process that for a moment you forgot everything had changed since the last time you did it.

He did look more relaxed after a few minutes, when you sat on the couch and took your heels off with a tired sigh. You could feel Ivar's eyes on you, but tried to ignore him, too exhausted to start arguing with him again. You felt the pressure on your chest again, as you always did when someone mentioned him or when you saw him, but this time it was a bit less intense, maybe because Freydis wasn't around.

"I'm going to bed" he announced after a few minutes, you supposed that the strong painkillers had already kicked it at least a bit "Today was shit"

You wanted to scream at him, every day had been shit for the last few months because of him. But you were too exhausted of yelling, arguing and crying because of him, you wanted a truce, even if it was just for a few hours.

Ivar got up, grunting and taking deep breaths as he moved slowly towards his bedroom. At first, you weren't even thinking about helping him, you had already done too much for him that night, much more than he actually deserved. But when you looked at him and saw him struggling, you couldn't help it and got up to help him. Usually, Ivar would frown and say he didn't need help, but this time he didn't say a word until you reached his bedroom.

You bit your lip, looking around the room and remembering the last time you were in there. Ivar let himself fall on the bed and sighed in relief when he got to take the braces off. You sat on the bed and looked at him sternly.

"Hvitserk said you've been skipping therapy sessions" you narrowed your eyes at him "And didn't go to doctor's appointments, this is what you get for being an idiot"

Ivar raised an eyebrow, and the ghost of a smile danced on his lips as he turned his head to you.

"You and Hvitserk talked a lot about me, didn't you?" he scoffed "Did he also mention me when you were fucking?"

You rolled your eyes, but you weren't going to play his game anymore, not that night.

"Anyway, I'm leaving" you stood up "Go to sleep and call the doctor tomorrow"

Ivar narrowed his eyes at you.

"I thought we needed to talk" he scowled "But now you want to run back to Alfred"

"Look" you sighed, crossing your arms "You're tired and on a bad mood, I'm tired and a bit drunk, talking it's probably not a good idea, so try and get some rest and we'll talk some other day"

"I saw you dancing" he ignored you completely, making you sigh again "With him"

"Yes, and what about it? You have no right to be bothered by that, because you were with your girlfriend"

"She's no longer my girlfriend" he clenched his jaw and his voice broke a bit "It's over"

Your expression softened. Even if you'd love to slap him in that moment, your heart broke a bit knowing he was hurt.

"What happened?" you asked softly "The last time you told me you loved each other and all of that"

Ivar shrugged, looking away and taking a deep breath.

"I don't know, I suppose she didn't love me that much"

You looked at him with a pout. You could feel that dull pain on your heart when you thought about him, you missed him with your entire life, the thought of your relationship hurt and you knew it will keep hurting forever. Ivar probably didn't care about you, or maybe he saw you more like a friend, because it was obvious Freydis had marked him much more than you in just a few months, you had seen him looking at her. So probably she was his Ivar, that thing that would be painful his entire life.

A part of you wanted to be happy. They broke up, he was mistaken and it didn't work out. But you couldn't do it when you looked into his eyes and saw pain. You couldn't see him in pain.

"I'm sorry" you said softly.

"Are you?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Yes" you rolled your eyes "I don't want to see you sad"

"Wouldn't you feel better yelling and insulting me?"

"Maybe" you shrugged "But I don't have the strength to do it"

Ivar nodded. He didn't have the energy to fight either. You laid down next to him, careful not to wrinkle the dress. Ivar stared at you intensely, and felt the tug on his chest again. He missed you more than he actually realized. It had been during the wedding, when he saw you looking stunning, smiling and greeting people... With Alfred next to you. He knew you'd be worried about him because he hadn't taken the medicines, that you'd make him sit down and would make everyone approach him so he wouldn't have to walk, that you'd take care of him, and if he was feeling better, would make him try to dance with you after the feast. Now you were dancing with Alfred, giggling and hugging his brother, and barely looked at him. And Freydis noticed.

When you looked at him again, he was much closer than you remembered, and it started you as you tried to move, flustered and suddenly very nervous.

"Y/N" he muttered, his hand grabbed your wrist softly and you widened your eyes "Stay, please"

You got lost into his eyes again. They had something magnetic, that attracted and locked you in.

His hand cupped your head to pull you closer, and the pressure on your chest turned into a warm feeling when his lips pressed against yours. It was like coming back after a long trip, when you realized just how much you had missed home, and everything was familiar and in its place. You closed your eyes and kissed him back slowly, too into him to even realize what was happening. Ivar broke the kiss and pecked your lips again a couple of times before deepening the kiss. His hand traveled down your back, making you tremble, until it reached your waist. You couldn't remember when was the last time Ivar kissed you like that, not even when the two of you were still together. He caressed your body over the soft fabric of the dress, and you vaguely thought about the wrinkles but realized you didn't even care.

"Ivar" you muttered against his lips "What are you doing?"

He didn't answer, but kissed you again as his fingers fumbled with the zip of your dress.

"You looked so beautiful today" he sighed "I couldn't stand to even think about someone else taking this dress off"

You were going to reply, but his lips on your neck turned what was going to be a dignified reply into a moan. Ivar had that thing, that charm that was too much for you to handle. He knew your weaknesses, your soft spots and what to do to make you melt in his arms. He knew you couldn't resist him, not even if you wanted to.

It was like going back in time, all the thoughts about the breakup, Freydis, Alfred and Hvitserk left your mind as he took the dress off, throwing it to the other side of the room and biting his lip with a smirk when he recognized the underwear. You tugged on his clothes, and the two of you broke the kiss so he could take the shirt and the tie. You sighed when you saw his tattoos again. You has missed him so much, and how his warm skin felt under your fingers, how his body tensed under your touch.

"Can I?" he asked biting your lower lip, his fingers grazed the side of your panties and you closed your eyes in anticipation before nodding.

"Yes" you moaned, moving to straddle him as you took your bra off. Ivar groaned and pushed his hips against you. Finally, his fingers found your sex, and he pressed onto your clit, and when he started rubbing it in circles you started trembling again.

You tried to touch his member, but you could barely move, until he pushed your panties aside and two of his fingers teased your entrance before entering you. The both of you moaned at the same time, and you moved your hips against his hand trying to follow his pace.

"Gods, you look so beautiful" he groaned, his free hand caressed your body and his lips captured one of your nipples. It was too much, and when he pressed his palm against your clit you gasped and your walls clenched around his fingers. But then he stopped, and your moans of pleasure turned into a bothered whine. You opened your eyes to glare at him and he chuckled, shaking his head.

"You're not going to cum until I'm inside of you" he whispered against your neck. You quickly fumbled with his pants, and when you finally freed his hard member Ivar groaned again. You would have loved to return the favor and leave him on the edge, but you couldn't wait, you needed him. You had waited enough.

"Put it in for me, kitten"

You nearly came hearing his voice on your ear, whispering the pet name he used to call you. Your hand clenched around his cock and he rolled his eyes and moaned deeply, letting you enjoy pretending you had the power for a few seconds. Until you pressed his member against your entrance and he grabbed your hips and thrusted into you.

Your mouth widened on a silent moan. It was intense, and Ivar let you adjust to the size before starting moving, but once he started, he couldn't stop. He sat down to kiss you again, and you grabbed his shoulders and his arms when your legs were too weak to support you anymore.

"Ivar" you moaned against his neck "God, Ivar"

"I missed you so much" he muttered, and it sounded like he truly meant it.

You didn't really have time to think whether he meant it or not because the warm tingle on your lower belly was becoming too much. Your walls started clenching around him and his thrust became sloppy. He breathed heavily against your skin.

"I'm not going to last" he whispered again "You're too much"

You had missed this Ivar so much.

You came around him, moaning his name and digging your nails into his back, your body shaking around him and your face hidden into his neck. Ivar came right after you, and he quickly turned his head to fix his ocean eyes into yours, with his pouty and swollen lips parted just before kissing you again, making you sigh and smile, happy for the first time in months.

____________________________________

Tags: @mblaqgi @alicedopey @lol-haha-joke @hallowed-heathen @naaladareia @tephi101 @captstefanbrandt @love-hate-love @titty-teetee @readsalot73 @moondustmemories @therealcalicali @blushingskywalker @awkwardfangirl02 @gruffle1 @justacripple @love-dria @heartbeats-wildly @letsrunawaytotomorrow @inforapound @sallydelys @hellogabysblog @winchesterwife27 @hecohansen31 @youbloodymadgenius @xinyourdreamsx @funmadnessandbadassvikings @eteramfools @tgrrose @lifeisabitchandsoareyou @lovessce @tootie-fruity @didiintheblog @alexhandersenx @belovedcherry @fantasydevil2002 @xceafh @astrape-the-weatherwitch @destynelseclipsa @poisonous00 @littlebear423 @justbloodlydreaming @xbellaxcarolinax @soleil-dor @geekydane-post @katarokkar11 @crackhead1-800 @momowhoo @pedrolorian @flokisdaughter @crazybunnyladysworld @anotherfan07 @heavenly1927 @jungkxxkk @satanhalsey @nanahachikyuu @cocovikings23 @ecarroll1978 @darlingjae

#ivar imagine #ivar smut #ivar lothbrok #ivar the boneless #ivar x reader #vikings #modern ivar #modern vikings #move on

246 notes · View notes

maybege · 3 years ago

Text

Safe And Warm - Part 2

Summary: The journey to get Thalassa to Coruscant continues and Paz and you get closer. (Anastasia AU)

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 6.4k | Rating: T

Warnings: once again Disney-level fluff, some tense moments but nothing really dangerous, Mandalorians do not wear helmets in this AU

Here we go! The second and final part to this little AU. Thank you everyone who has commented on and reblogged the first part, I was so happy you liked it. This part also coincides with @agirllovespancakes ‘s 7 Days No Smut Challenge which I highly recommend you check out as there are so many wonderful contributions. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated and I hope you enjoy it!

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

The next day, you mostly spent in the room that Thalassa and Din had slept in.

It was amusing, the dark circles under Din’s eyes and the way his brows were in a constant frown.

“You owe me,” he hissed as soon as Paz stepped over the threshold, “Princess here wouldn’t shut up for even one second. It’s a wonder she survived that long on that muddy planet we found her on. I would’ve strangled her years ago.”

Paz only chuckled.

That night, it was felt almost like a routine. None of the passengers tried to talk to you this time around, the dark look on Paz’s face proving enough to keep them away.

The curtain was pulled closed and he had his back turned to you as you got changed. He could hear the shuffling behind him and once you had settled down, he got undressed as quickly as he could.

When he laid down, he felt your arm brush against his. As he turned towards you, his hand found its way to your waist on its own and you smiled, shuffling closer.

“Here we could –“ he put the blaster behind your back.

The metal scraped against the wall and when he noticed that there was not enough space he gently pulled you towards him until you were flush against his chest.

“Is that all right?” he asked hesitantly, his chin on top of your head. You nodded against him, your nose dragging along his throat and goosebumps erupted all over his skin. You were so close …

“Will you tell me why you’re doing this?” you asked him suddenly, “No one would ever spend more than one day with Thalassa out of the goodness of their heart, much less smuggle her into the Core Worlds.”

“Her family will pay a good prize to those that bring her back,” he admitted, almost scared of what your reaction would be. He wanted to add that he was happy to do it now that he got to know you. That he was happy to be with you, here at this moment, and that he would happily abstain from the money if it meant he could just stay here with you.

“I can imagine,” you whispered against him, “All she ever could talk about growing up was how much money her family had – sometimes I wonder if that is the only reason my uncle ever kept her. Apart from the undying love my aunt had for her, of course.”

How anyone could love Thalassa was a mystery to him to Paz did not say anything. Instead, he just held you close.

“I’m flattered you thought that I was her,” you murmured a few moments later, so quiet he could barely hear it, “I – no one ever thought I was more than a farmer’s daughter before.”

“You looked – you were radiant,” Paz replied, “Areradiant, I think. Doesn’t matter if you’re a princess or not, I think – I think you’re beautiful.”

He felt the heat of your cheeks against his chest and his heart warmed. “Thank you, Paz,” you whispered as the light outside shut down, “Thank you for taking me with you.”

And in the darkness, as he remembered that he would have to say goodbye to you on Coruscant, his heart hurt.

The days on the ship were absolute perfection.

Or as close to perfection as they could be.

You spend the days either in the common rooms or in the small room that Din and Thalassa shared. Paz made it a habit to clean his blaster every day, just to have something to spend the time on. Din did it as well and there were more than a few moments where Paz contemplated taking the weapon away from Din to prevent him from hurting the constantly chattering princess.

But most days it was not too bad. There were ways you were able to entertain yourself – either by watching a longer holovid on one of the datapads or playing cards. Thalassa had expressed interest in watching one of the loth cat races but Din and Paz had steadfastly refused to take her there on the grounds that if a bounty hunter was anywhere on this ship, he was sure to be at the loth cat races.

And in part that was true and Paz was convinced that Din said it in an attempt to keep her safe. But Paz also had another reason: He did not want to leave you.

Because as the days and nights wore on, he noticed that whenever you were in the same room (which meant always) you would drift towards him or vice versa. No matter if you started out sitting next to Din or Thalassa in the morning, you always ended up right next to him, often talking quietly to each other in a corner of the room.

He had gotten used to your figure next to him, having pulled your knees against your chest as you let him explain to you the different mechanisms of the blaster he was cleaning.

“You’re good at that,” you had said once, smiling at him, “Explaining stuff.”

“Well, I am a teacher,” he had revealed with a teasing smile, “Back at home, I mean. I teach our foundlings about the world and everything they need to know to survive in it.”

You had nodded, resting your chin on your knees and your eyes had been so soft he had wanted nothing more than to kiss you. “It fits,” had been your response, “Paz Vizsla, the teacher.”

Other times you would volunteer to accompany him to the cantina, getting some food for the four of you so Thalassa did not need to leave the room. (“Less exposure, fewer chances for her to be recognized,” Din had shrugged and Paz had agreed.) And with you walking next to him, both of you talking about everything and nothing, Paz only barely registered the jealous looks of other passengers, clearly directed at him.

But he could not care, not when you were so happy to choose the meal of the day, trying out different delicacies from all over the galaxy – stuff you had heard of as children or that was so strange to you, you could barely imagine its taste, all of it landed on your plates.

When the night neared, you would sometimes challenge him to a game of dice which you hopelessly lost every single time but Paz could only smile at you, trying to show you the right way to throw the galactic dice, his broad hands holding yours and his heart skipped a beat every time you asked him to show you again.

Yes, the more time passed, the more Paz allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to spend his life with you.

With the ship having safely arrived on Naboo, the next leg of the journey was pretty easy. You needed to get on the train to Theed to catch the next ship that would take you to Coruscant.

“I am sure you’ll like it, Princess,” Din huffed, carrying his bag and hers, “The next room will be much more to your tastes.”

“I can only hope so,” Thalassa replied coolly, shielding her face from the sun, “Thus far the trip has been rather underwhelming.”

Paz chuckled, grinning when he caught you rolling your eyes. To be fair, Paz was pretty sure that everyone would be happy about the better accommodations. In comparison to the ship they had just left, it was almost luxurious. They would have a bedroom big enough to accommodate all of them with an ensuite bathroom and room service available. He could not wait until he had the chance to take a good long shower and get cleaned up.

Not one to waste credits where it was unnecessary, Din bribed the train personnel to let you stay in the luggage cabin much to Thalassa’s dismay. But as Paz helped you up, his hands on your waist, he noticed how giddy you were. You were grinning from ear to ear and he felt his own lips tug up in a smile. One thing he lamented about the better accommodations was that he would not have you next to him every night.

Sitting down on the floor, he watched as your skirts flared up with the wind as the train gained speed.

“I can’t believe we’re this close already,” you said, gazing out at the glittering sea under Naboo’s sun, “It feels like yesterday where you picked us up.”

“I am happy we did,” Paz replied quietly, feeling how your pinkie finger brushed against his thumb and turning his hand so his palm was open to you. His heartbeat quickened, hoping that you got the hint and took his hand but he also did not want to force you.

Your smile warmed his heart while the sunlight warmed his skin. He felt your fingers brush over his palm, moving to interlock your fingers when –

“You have never been to a gala, have you?” Thalassa asked you suddenly, “My family always threw the biggest feasts when I was younger, I can’t imagine it will be any different now. Oh, wait until you see the dresses and the food! It is more than your village could ever imagine.”

“You have seen the dances I have been to,” you reminded her with a grin, “None of them could be called galas at any point.”

“That is true, you have never danced with a partner before have you?”

“I – well I did not need to,” you stuttered, pulling your hand from his and he grumbled internally, “Will I need to know how to do that?”

Thalassa scoffed, “Of course you will, sweetie,” she turned to Din, “can’t you teach her? Or are you two going to embarrass me as well? Oh stars, here I am, returning after years of separation and the group I am with can’t even dance properly.”

Paz rolled his eyes, not saying anything as he rolled up his sleeves. His suit jacket was somewhere behind him on one of the crates, weighted down by a bag on top of it.

“C’mon,” Din said with a heavy sigh, “If I can learn to do it, you can too.”

You looked a little apprehensive at first, standing up to stand across the dark-haired man who held out his hands for you. Happy that she had got her way, Thalassa started to play a common tune on her datapad, something that even Paz recognized from his home.

But when Din started to move, trying to lead you across the wagon, it became clear that it would not work out at all. It was more stumbling than dancing, really, and Paz cringed when he saw how unintentionally harsh Din was grabbing your hands. No wonder you looked uncomfortable, turning your head to face him.

Paz took that as his sign, standing up and straightening the wrinkles in his pants. His heart was pounding in his chest as he approached you. Funnily enough, both you and Din looked relieved.

“Let me,” he announced, grinning as Thalassa kept playing the tune on her datapad.

“I don’t think I will learn it, Paz,” you admitted shyly, avoiding his gaze, “Maybe I am too clumsy …”

“If I can learn to do it, you can learn to do it,” he repeated Din’s motto and gently grasped your hand, pulling it to his mouth for a light kiss.

“M’lady,” he offered, bowing his head formally, “May I ask for this dance?”

“Why of course,” you answered in an equally exaggerated voice, sounding much happier than you had before.

With the music in the background, he pulled you to his chest and started to lead you through the empty wagon ins low steps. As you grew surer, he got faster and soon you laughed with him, fitting so perfectly against him. Stars, he did not remember the last time he had had this much fun.

The melody got slower and so did the steps but he did not let go of you. Instead, he kept you even closer, feeling your heartbeat against his.

“You are a good dancer,” you said with a smile.

He twirled you around with a grin, watching as your skirt flared.

“You are a good dancer too,” he murmured, his forehead falling against yours. Your breath audibly hitched in your throat and it felt like you were alone in the wagon, “Maybe we could dance at the gala if you want.”

“I’d like that,” you whispered back, “I always feel comfortable with you, safe and – safe and warm.”

He opened his mouth. He wanted to tell you how he would keep you safe if he could. How he would make sure to always be by your side if that was what you wanted. How he wanted you to continue to travel with him and not leave him on Coruscant. His hand on your back wandered up to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. “I –“

“Kriffing Imps,” Din cursed, “Get back, get back, we need to hide.”

Immediately Paz stepped away from you, pushing you behind him with his arm in front of you.

“Get the bags,” Din hissed, already unlocking the safety of his blaster.

Thalassa was surprisingly quiet, her eyes wide as she pulled the bags from the crates with as little fuss as possible. She handed one to you as Paz grabbed his blaster, switching off the safety.

The one disadvantage they had with being in the luggage cart was that they were the last on the train. There was no way they could escape the imminent arrival of the guards and it made him sick to his stomach, especially when he was highly aware of you behind him.

“They will discover us,” you whispered, clearly scared. He saw them coming closer, slowly checking every wagon.

Din looked outside. “We need to get out of here before we cross the water, we won’t survive the waves.”

That was when they must have noticed you. Shots rang through the air and Thalassa ducked, screaming in fear as the carte behind her took a hit. Paz cursed, rushing you behind the crates as he and Din tried to return the fire. But with the slim doorway and the crates in the way it was difficult to keep cover and do any significant damage.

With a kick to one of the doors, Din managed to create a new exit, the ground only a blur as the train rushed towards a bridge across the sea. But as the Imps got closer, so did the water and soon it was clear that the meadows would be your only escape.

Paz was sitting behind the crate next to you, leaning forward to shoot. He heard a scream but even if he had managed to hit someone, there were still too many to cover the time until they would arrive in Theed.

“We will need to jump,” Din shouted.

Thalassa squeaked in shock, “We can’t! The train is moving,” another shot rang, “And they are shooting at us!”

You were sitting right next to him, eerily quiet, your hands trembling. He could see how scared you were and the thought of something happening to you made him sick to his stomach. No, as the Imps came closer, he knew he could not bear to see you hurt. His gaze met Din’s and he nodded, the plan clear.

“You jump while I cover you,” Paz announced.

You looked up at him in shock, your lips trembling as you shook your head, “Paz please, I – I am scared.”

He grabbed your hand hastily, pulling it to his mouth and pressing a kiss to your knuckles, “I promise it will be all right, just trust me. I will be right behind you, you just need to jump for me, can you do that, love?”

You nodded frantically and with a push of his hands, you stumbled over to where Din was waiting at the exit. The wind was rushing and got sick when he saw how close the sea was.

“Now!” Din shouted, pushing Thalassa away with a scream, you followed. As second later Din followed.

Paz did his best to shoot a few Imps, kicking out the bags into the air. When they reached the doorway, he knew it was time to leave. In his haste, he knocked his shoulder against the doorframe, shouting in pain as he threw himself through the opening just before the train crossed onto the water.

The landing was harsh but he did his best to roll it out, groaning as his shoulder throbbed with pain. He could hear a few shots, the Imps attempting to hurt him even after his escape but they failed. Thank the stars they did because he did not have it in himself to avoid any bullets now.

He grunted, his head resting against the grass as he held his shoulder, trying to get the pain to stop.

“Paz!” a voice shouted and footsteps came rapidly closer, “Paz, Paz are you all right?”

It was you.

You bowed over him immediately, your face blocking out the sun. Gentle hands framed his face and he smiled tiredly as he blinked against the light. Stars, you were so pretty he did not even care about his shoulder.

“How are you?” you asked quietly, your brows furrowed in worry, “You – it looked pretty bad.”

His hand closed around yours on his face, pulling it to his lips again. “I’m feeling better now that I am seeing you,” he mumbled against your palm, “Are you all right?”

“I am perfect,” you smiled, running your fingertip across the bridge of his nose, “So – so what do we do now?”

“Where’s Din?”

“Oh, he is taking care of Thalassa, she had a fright and he told me to make sure you are okay.”

“If I tell you I am not, can we stay here for a little longer? Just the two of us.”

“You would want that?” you murmured with a chuckle, “Take a nap in the sun right here?”

“I can’t imagine anything better,” he replied, his hand holding yours to his chest closing his eyes and just enjoying the calm around him with you by his side.

It was decided that in order to get to Coruscant on time, you would walk back to Theed.

The walk was not too strenuous and even though it was long, it offered some wonderful views of the Naboonian landscape and nature. That and the climate was nice. It was not too warm, not too cold and there was just the right amount of breeze in the air.

Even Thalassa seemed to be in better spirits.

That was, until Din had to tell her that there was no way you would be able to catch another passenger ship to Coruscant today.

“But then how will we get to Coruscant?” Thalassa asked in terror.

“I think I might know someone,” Din grumbled.

Paz snorted.

You, walking beside him, looked at him questioningly. He only shook his head, already looking forward to Thalassa’s distraught face when she would see what Din had meant.

It was not even a commercial passenger ship. It was a freightship to Coruscant and Thalassa’s (and yours) face could have made him laugh if it hadn’t made him wince. His shoulder was still hurting as if a loth cat had decided to bury her teeth into the muscle but he simply shouldered his bag on the other side.

That friend of Din’s, Peli was her name, had owed him a favour and a few placed on the board of the freight ship were apparently enough to cover that debt. Which is how he found himself next to you, sitting on the floor of the hull.

The one advantage this had was that freight ships were much quicker than any other mode of transportation. You were huddled up next to him, your head on his shoulder, his coat laying over you.

You were fiddling with his large hand in yours, playing with his fingers. Paz was fascinated by how small your hand was compared to his and maybe it was the pain or the exhaustion but he spread his fingers completely out, waiting for you to catch on.

He heard your small huff of laughter when you understood what he wanted to do. Gently, you laid your palm against his, seeing how his hand dwarfed yours. He smiled before closing his hold on your hand and pulling you closer until you were completely seated in his lap.

You hummed, settling your head on his shoulder, your breath fanning against his neck.

“How long until we’re there?” you asked quietly.

(Somewhere a few rows back, Thalassa was complaining about one thing or another. But he was good at tuning her out in favour of listening to you.)

“Only a few hours,” he muttered quietly, “By this time tomorrow we will be there. Then, it will only be a matter of time until we can find Thalassa’s family at the gala.”

“Have you thought about what you want to do – when it is all over?” you asked carefully.

“I will go back home,” he answered, “With the money, we can build a new school. I can get some improvements on my home done, some repairs.”

“That sounds lovely,” you answered, with a smile, “Do you think I could visit you sometime? You and the students, of course.”

“I would want nothing more,” he said quietly, “I could show you the lake, the forest, there is this nice walk up the hill from where you can see the stars at night, you would like it.”

As you both fell asleep you did not know you dreamt of the same thing.

A future together.

Coruscant was loud and bright and glittering.

And word spread fast – really fast – because as soon as they stepped foot into one of the spaceports, an elderly woman approached them, introducing herself as a distant aunt of Thalassa’s. A distanced aunt who had arranged for food and lodging for the entire stay.

Paz had never wanted to hug a stranger so badly in his life.

The hotel they had been ordered to was one of the finest places he had ever stayed in and they all got their individual suites. A whole suite.

“It is beautiful”, you breathed next to him, looking up at the decorated ceiling, “I don’t think I have ever seen anything this beautiful.”

Paz bit his lip. I have seen you, he wanted to say, I have seen you smile and that will be the most beautiful moment of my life.

But he did not say anything. No, he simply nodded and disappeared into his room, taking the longest shower of his life and dressing in a new suit before swallowing three bacta pills at once.

It did not take long for Thalassa to be completely back in her element. For the gala, she would need a new dress. Which meant that no price was too high, no amount of glitter or skin showing too much. And because he and Din wanted to make sure that she would remain safe until they could get the reward for finding her, they needed to accompany her on her trip.

Her trip through every single shop Coruscant’s elite had to offer.

With every shop they left, the bags got increasingly fuller and heavier and as the designated carrier of goods Paz was a little grumpy. But that soon passed when he saw how happy you were, grinning and joking with Thalassa as the latter tried on dress after dress.

As Thalassa was trying on more and more dresses – no end in sight as the wallet of her family seemed to be bottomless – Paz was sitting on one of the chairs, watching you.

You were busy staring at a mannequin at the back of the store. Your eyes were wide and your mouth slightly open in wonder as your fingers brushed over the glittering fabric of the dress.

“Would you like to try it on, ma’am?” the attending salesperson asked you

A sad smile formed on your lips and you shook your head. Paz frowned, leaning forward to hear what you said.

“No thank you,” you declined, “it’s really beautiful though.”

“Are you sure?” the woman asked again, “It’s a beautiful gown, I am sure it would look wonderful on you. Especially for the gala.”

“I can’t afford it,” you replied, shame on your face and in your voice. Paz’s heart broke for you and he frowned, unable to stop thinking about your sadness.

He watched as you looked wistfully at the dress, making your way back to where Thalassa had just stepped out of the dressing room. She was wearing a bright red number and turned this and that way to admire herself in the mirror while Din looked to be suffering even more, knowing that h would have to carry most of her purchases.

“You look wonderful,” you smiled, your eyes roaming over her dress, “Do you think you’ll wear it to the gala?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Thalassa mused, her tone falsely indecisive as if she didn’t already know that she would buy the dress.

Paz could barely concentrate on whatever was said. All he could think about was your sad smile and how you had gazed at that dress so longingly. This entire day money was spent on Thalassa. But – you didn’t seem to have anything to wear for the gala.

As the group departed the shop, Paz motioned for Din to walk off without him. His brother in arms nodded knowingly, raising his eyebrows in an I told you so motion. Paz ignored him.

“Everything all right, Paz?” you asked, staying behind as you noticed he hadn’t followed you.

“I think you should try it on,” he blurted out, motioning to the dress, “For me … please.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, “I –“

“Yes,” he nodded, “Yes I am sure and I know you want to. Come one, love … for me.”

A few minutes later you stepped out of the dressing room, looking absolutely magnificent. Paz’s mouth gaped open as he sat in the chair. The fabric left your shoulders bare and there was a slit up your leg and stars you looked pretty. As you saw yourself in the mirror, your whole face lit up and he could only feel the warmth in his cheeks as you twirled for him.

“It is so beautiful,” you murmured in awe, hands gliding over the fabric, “It is like the colour of the night sky.”

“You look … you look perfect,” he brought out, his voice hoarse, “You look really beautiful.”

“Well, it – it was nice having it tried on,” you smiled, clearly trying to mask your sadness and his heart broke.

As you disappeared into the changing room, he whirled around to the saleswoman, “How much?”

She smiled at him knowingly. “We would be able to deliver it to your accommodation without her knowing about it,” she said as she slipped him the paper with the number.

It was not as high as he had feared. And with the pay coming in soon, this would be nothing.

“Good,” he nodded, “It should be a surprise.”

After a rather exhausting shopping spree with Thalassa, you were happy to be back in the hotel.

It was nice to see her in her element and certainly good to know that everyone here behaved like her. Even if it was a little annoying.

You sighed as you returned to your room. The gala was approaching fast and you were still thinking about what to get dressed in. You had brought your only good dress from home but that had been the standards from home. This here was something else entirely.

With a look at the grey fabric, looking colourless against the vibrant furniture of your hotel, you remembered the dress you had tried on. How Paz had looked at you so adoringly. How his voice had hitched and made your heartbeat quicken.

It was frustrating that you could not afford it and you wondered if maybe Thalassa would lend you one of her dresses if you asked her.

You let yourself fall onto the soft couch in the bedroom, taking in a deep breath. Yes, you were feeling a bit down. Everyone was getting ready for the opera gala and you felt like you were the only one who would be completely out of place. Even Din and Paz knew how to behave around high society, it seemed, and you clung to the idea of just … hanging out with them the entire night. Not that you wanted to do anything else anyway.

Sitting up, a box on your bed caught your eye and you frowned. You recognized the symbol from the shop and your heart skipped a beat. Quickly you stood up and walked over to your bed, keeping your eyes on the box in case you blinked and it disappeared.

Excitement grew in you and you carefully lifted the top, you squealed and let it fall back into place.

The dress.

He had bought the dress for you.

Your hands trembling from excitement and you were sure your face hurt because you were smiling so widely.

With a look at the clock, you knew you needed to hurry and you practically ran under the shower, getting ready as quickly as possible. When your body was dry enough, you hurried to the box, pulling on the dress and grinning when it fit perfectly. It was even prettier than in the shop and for the first time, you allowed yourself to truly admire yourself in the mirror.

You were excited and you looked excited. And happy and bubbly and in love and –

“Knock, knock, can I come on?” Paz’s voice sounded from outside and your smile got even wider.

“Yes, come on in!” you called, turning around to greet him.

The man stepped inside, faltering as he saw you, if only for a second, and your heart raced in your chest. He was all fancied up in his black suit and tie. His shoulder looked broad and strong and you saw that he was not wearing a blaster. He was truly ready for high society.

“Got you a present,” he murmured almost bashfully, “ I thought Thalassa could not be the only one with a bit of jewelry.”

“You already gifted me this,” you gestured to the dress, “And I will never be able to thank you for it, I – thank you, Paz, it is so lovely and it means so much and I –“, you sniffled, tears pooling in your eyes.

“Hey now,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around you, “no crying, this was supposed to make you happy.”

“And it did,” you whispered, burying into his chest, “It does.”

“Good,” he said, his arm wrapping around your waist, “Because I remember that a pretty lady promised to dance with me tonight.”

“And she intends to keep that promise,” you smiled up at him, resting your chin on his chest. It was warm and safe and familiar and your heart hurt at the thought of never seeing him again.

Then he pulled a smaller box out of his jacket, “Good, now are you ready for your second present?”

You nodded. He made a circle motion with his finger and obediently you turned around so your back was to him. You gasped when you felt something cold touch your neck and when you looked in the mirror you saw that it was a necklace he was fasting at the back of your neck.

It consisted of white gemstones, glittering in the light of the lamps and you felt you had never worn anything this expensive. You were captured by his gaze, feeling your chest and cheeks heat up with how he looked at you. His rough fingertips grazed the sensitive skin on your throat and back of your neck and goosebumps erupted everywhere his touch went. You never wanted him to stop touching you.

“You look stunning,” he said, holding your gaze, “Like the stars.”

“Thank you, Paz,” you whispered, slowly leaning back so he could rest his chin on your shoulder, his arms enveloping your middle, “It is beautiful.”

“You are beautiful,” he replied with a smile, “Now, are you ready to stun some old rich people?”

You giggled, your heart skipping a beat as he took your hand.

The only way to describe how you behaved in the opera was the following: a couple. As soon as you stepped out of the speeder, your arm had wrapped around his and you remained by his side the entire time. A fact that made him immensely proud.

He had watched with you by his side as Thalassa had reunited with her family and Din had received the payment in full. You were the one he was seated next to in the little private booth before the performance was starting to be honest he did not want it any other way.

He never once let go of your hand, his thumb constantly drawing patterns on your skin as you talked about all the different novelties this performance had to offer.

And it did not seem like you wanted him to either. You kept whispering about all the different things you saw, the pretty lights and dressed and clothes and the food as you shared a few appetizers with him. You both watched Thalassa in the booth with her family, getting reacquainted after years of being separated from each other.

But by far his favourite part was that his lips brushed your skin whenever he spoke into your ear.

“Everything is so beautiful here,” you murmured to him, gently squeezing his hand, “it is exciting isn’t it?”

“It is,” he agreed, keeping his eyes on you, your excited smile, and the way your free hand kept drifting to the necklace he had gifted you.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear,” you admitted bashfully, tilting your head closer to him, to hear him better. Paz’s heart skipped a beat as he leant closer, his lips now brushing your ear. “I said,” he murmured, “It is beautiful and – I think you are the most beautiful person here.”

He heard your breath hitch and gathered his courage to lean down and press a soft kiss just beneath your ear. And as if that was not enough, he raised your hand softly against his lips again before leaning back into his own space.

You looked at him softly, a small smile on your lips and he could see how your chest heaved.

Then, you took his hand back, pulling it against your lips this time and pressing a gentle kiss against each of his knuckles, all the while keeping his gaze. Paz forgot how to breathe. And suddenly he knewhe needed to tell you now, needed to askyou now.

“When our business is done here,” he began, his throat dry and scratchy, “Would you – would you maybe like to – I mean with me, would you like to –“

“Thalassa invited us to dinner afterwards, would you like to come – oh, I am sorry.”

He had never hated Din more in his life.

Paz was pacing the hallway in front of Thalassa’s room.

The entire dinner he had not gotten any chance to talk to you and suddenly it had been time to go and he had overheard someone talking about how you would be offered to stay here. With Thalassa. As her assistant or something.

He had not even been able to call your name or grab your hand before the princess had whisked you away into her room and now everything felt too tight and constricting. Panic flooded him. Panic that you might accept the offer. Panic that he could not tell you how he felt. Panic that he had lost you before he even had a chance to offer himself to you.

It felt like an eternity before the door opened and you looked almost surprised to see him there. Paz’s heart pounded in his chest, a feeling of now or never coursing through him. You opened your mouth but he stopped you before you could say anything.

“Let me just –“ he murmured, “Let me just say … this. Please don’t go, love, please don’t stay here, I – I know I have nothing much to offer, certainly not as much as this,” he gestured around the grand hallway, “But … by the stars, I will make sure you will lack for nothing, I promise.”

You did not say anything.

“I – I love you,” he confessed, his shoulders dropping relief of finally having said what he had kept with him for so long, “and I – please stay with me, please come home with me, I – I can’t bear to say goodbye to you now.”

You looked at him with big eyes, teary eyes, stepping closer to him. “Paz,” you murmured, searching his gaze for something, “I declined the job offer,” you looked down at your hands, nervously fiddling with them. Automatically he took them in his, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles.

“I love you too,” you whispered with a smile, “Very much so and I – I don’t want to say goodbye to you yet.”

“What are you saying,” he murmured, a wider grin on his face, raising your hands to his lips, “You coming home with me, love?”

“Yes,” you smiled, nudging your nose against his, “I am.”

With your words echoing in his head, he leant down and softly pressed his lips to yours. It was a slow kiss, one that you immediately started to reciprocate and goosebumps erupted all over his skin at the feeling of your lips against his. Stars, you were soft and warm and wonderful.

He felt your hands on the back of his neck, playing with the short curls there and he smiled against you, stepping closer and wrapping his arm around your waist. A giggle escaped your lips and he gripped you tighter, chasing your mouth with his as you pulled away to breathe. You did not complain one bit when his lips landed on your jaw instead, gripping his shoulders tighter as you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

Whatever journey lay ahead of you, you would master it together.

#maybege writes #7daysnosmutchallenge #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x fem!reader

105 notes · View notes

junicai · 4 years ago

Text

not working.

| summary | With swimming walls and tablets that don’t work, who’s better suited to take care of a feverish Aria than her doting older brothers?

| word count | 3k

| warnings | illness

| era | circa. November 2018

31. "This is the third time I've had to put you back in the bed. Why the hell do you want to lie on the floor so bad?"

a/n: cassia: “127 doesnt call aria baby that often.” also cassia: “babybabybabybaby-”

Aria got sea sick easily. The combination of the waves that had a boat rocking back and forth and back and forth over and over again had her stomach rolling in tandem. The floor would wobble beneath her feet and her vision with it, the grey water lapping against the small window in the belly of the ship.

It was an unnerving experience - and one she’d never like to repeat after the first hour-long boat trip she took aged eight, that had her hanging over the stern and gagging, face as pale as the seafoam that clapped against the sides of the small boat.

The minutes crawled by and the only real memory Aria has of the trip is how she stumbled off the boat and onto the pier, legs like jelly and hands outspread to catch herself when she inevitably pitched forward onto the cobbles.

It was not an experience she ever wished to repeat.

And yet, with her bedroom walls seemingly swimming around her head and her stomach rocking like a dinghy in a turbulent sea, Aria couldn’t imagine being on a boat was much worse than this. Hell, she’d take standing over the barriers over lying on her back in sweat-soaked sheets, tossing and turning in an attempt to keep the left side of her body tucked beneath the blankets and the right side exposed to the cool air.

She felt like she was being baked alive, yet simultaneously like she was resting beneath a block of ice. Her flushed cheeks paired with her dazed eyes made it hard to focus on anything, and for the third time in the last minute, she found herself flopping over angrily to try and find the cool side of her pillow.

She landed on the ground with a heavy thunk, and if a whine left her lips at the impact then that was between her miserable self and the walls.

And apparently Taeil, who had peeked in his head at the exact time she’d rolled herself out of the bed.

He sighed heavily, eyes pinched as he set down the blue mug he was holding on a pile of books on the desk, the steam fogging up the small mirror behind it.

“This is the third time I’ve had to put you back in the bed. Why the hell do you want to lie on the floor so bad?” He scolded with no real heat behind his words, hands already slipping beneath her knees to heave the slight girl back onto the bed.

Aria only whined again, rolling over to face the wall when she was safely placed onto the bed. She jerked lightly when her back twinged with the movement, but refused to turn back around when Taeil placed a comforting hand on the exposed skin of her lower back from her thin t-shirt riding up.

“Doyoungie’s gone to get the pills you need, okay? He’ll be back in twenty minutes, tops, and then we can get you an ice-pack,”

Aria shook her head.

“A heat pack, then,” Taeil compromised.

Aria huffed, biting her lip to stop the pained whimper from breaking out from between her lips as Taeil’s fingers pressed ever so slightly into the tensed muscle.

“I know, baby, I know.” He soothed, his gentle massaging not ceasing. “It hurts, right?”

She nodded, curling over into herself.

“Ah, no no. Don’t do that,” Taeil leant over to straighten her back up. “You’ll strain your back even more like that, and then where would we be?”

Aria swallowed her protest that told Taeil in not-so-nice-words that it was more comfortable than whatever weird pencil position she was currently lying in; knowing that he was only trying to help, and her being difficult was only going to make him upset.

But god why did it have to hurt this much?

She knew that coming down so hard off the stage was going to put her out of action for a while, but it had been eight months and she was still getting flare-ups of pain after every second practice they held. She was getting sick of needing to take a break every hour and sit against the mirror with an ice-pack cradled to her back.

With the low-grade fever that she was now running because the universe hated her and wanted her to suffer, the world sucked and Aria was content to believe that every living thing had it out for her.

Except for Taeil. He was lovely.

A tear escaped the tight hold Aria had on her tear ducts and despite the hand she shot up to cover her nose, the sniffle she made was still obvious to Taeil’s attentive ears.

He leant over slightly, looking for her face and sighing lightly when she only turned to bury it in the singular pillow that had escaped her earlier thrashing and hadn’t ended up on the floor. It was a nice comfort, and she shoved her nose further into the cotton when Taeil bent over further.

“Baby no, it’s okay. It’s okay to cry, that’s okay. C’mere,” Taeil paid no heed to Aria’s soft cry at being moved again, and ever-so-carefully tugged the girl into his lap where he could still rub a hand over her locked muscles while using his unoccupied thumb to swipe away the tears that threatened to spill over her waterline.

Aria blinked up at him for a moment, his hair falling in to his eyes but not masking the concern that blew his pupils wide and the way he was so gentle with swiping underneath her eyes knowing that they were strained because she hadn’t been wearing her glasses recently; and promptly burst into tears.

Taeil only tugged her closer, letting her hide her face in his stomach this time as he pet through her hair that hadn’t been washed in three days and was really full of tangles that caught on his fingers as he tried to comb through it without disturbing the crying girl in his lap.

He resumed his careful massaging of her back - well-versed with the act with Taeyong, a dongsaeng possessing the same crippling inability as Aria that left them unable to see a 'time to stop sign' if it hit them in the face - but paused when he saw the bruises creeping up her lower spine and past the edge of the t-shirt.

Eyebrows knitting together, he looked down at Aria, who’s cries were slowly beginning to peter out.

“Ari,” He began softly, “I thought the medication was helping?”

She stiffened beneath his hand, and Taeil recoiled slightly, if nothing but to make her feel a little more at ease.

At a closer inspection, the colours were a myriad of different colour; some a reddish-purple, and others a yellowing brown, spreading far over her back and onto the tops of her arms that were visible through the loose neck hole, meaning that they were far older than Aria’s first tumble out of the bed - an event that had only occurred that morning.

When Taeil brushed his fingers lightly over the bruise, Aria jerked away.

With her back pressed onto the wall, she paid no mind to the short stab of pain that fired up her spine as her wet eyes met Taeil’s, deep concern only growing behind them.

“Ari, what’s that? Are they not helping?”

She shook her head.

“You should have told us, baby, we could have brought you back to get you tested again-”

“No!” Aria’s shout startled both herself and Taeil.

Doyoung’s head appeared in the doorway. “Why’re we yelling?”

Aria shrunk back against the wall, knees curling up to her stomach. Doyoung tutted, moving forward to unfurl her legs. “Don’t sit like that, you’ll only cause yourself more pain.”

It was true, that position had sent electric shocks up her lower back but she was too stubborn to admit that to him, so instead she settled for looking down at the sheets, fingers fumbling with a loose thread.

It had snagged on one of her rings a couple of weeks ago, pulling the jewelry away from her finger in such a way that it scraped against the skin - leaving a shallow, but still painful, cut on the top of her finger.

Aria had slapped a band-aid on it without giving it much thought after rinsing the blood off of her hand underneath the tap, but when the band-aid had inevitably slipped off nearly two hours later during a dance practice, the tiny cut was still oozing blood slightly.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on? Or do I have to ask hyung?” Doyoung came to sit down on the bed beside her, hand seeking out hers to stop her pulling at the thread. “Don’t pull on that, you’ll make it worse.”

“Sorry.” Aria mumbled, not looking at him.

A silence filled the room for several seconds, broken by Doyoung’s clearing of his throat.

“Well?”

Aria’s lower lip trembled slightly. “It’s nothing, really, Taeil oppa was exaggerating slightly,”

“I wasn’t.”

“It’s just that - it’s nothing, it’s not a big deal, please don’t freak out, I promise if I was in pain I would have gone to someone, you or Taeil oppa or Yuta or someone -”

“Baby, you need to breathe.”

She hadn’t even noticed that she was hyperventilating.

With a choked gasp, Aria cut herself off and inhaled greedily, hands grasping at her throat as she coughed. Doyoung knelt forward to pat her back as Taeil came to sit down on the other side of her.

She stayed silent for the next minute, working on getting her breathing back under control as Taeil murmured soft encouragements and Doyoung coaxed her lungs back into working order with a gentle hand rubbing over her back.

It was comforting, right up until Doyoung sat back and fixed her with another look. Something that said you’re not getting out of this one and something that Aria hated with a passion being on the end of, because she never once got out of it.

It’s the reason Donghyuck got in trouble for accidentally breaking Jaehyun’s favourite mug. She just couldn’t lie.

“What’s going on, baby?”

Aria sniffed. “Promise you won’t be mad?”

Doyoung and Taeil exchanged a look. “Promise, baby. We won’t be mad, but you have to tell us what’s going on, okay? The whole truth, not a part of it.”

Breath stuttering a little bit, Aria twisted her back as much as it would allow her without pain to tug up the end of her t-shirt and show Doyoung the bottom ends of the bruises that amassed her back and shoulders.

They were crude colours, and honestly, Aria wouldn’t blame a person if they saw them and thought she had been beaten with a stick. The deep purpling, almost black colour was offset by the sickly green and yellow tinge the healing bruises had taken, only to be covered yet again by fresh contusions encroaching on the skin.

By the sharp intake of breath, Doyoung agreed with her.

“Baby,” His voice was anguished. “No, baby, you told us the medication was helping?

The medication. It had been four months since she’d been to the hospital to get the seemingly-endless bruises that appeared out of nowhere checked out. The sterile walls were cold to stare at as she was poked and prodded and asked indirect questions that were actually meant for her manager to answer, and the conversation that they’d had over her head made her feel small.

She’d been given a pat on the head for her troubles, and sent out of the ward with a prescription for PROCRIT, a small tablet that was - she was told - made of epoetin alfa, designed to treat her condition.

Having been cautioned against the side-effects, and being told to take them once a day in the morning, Aria had fitted the tablets into her morning routine; right after the multivitamin she was also instructed to take daily.

And, after a month of downing a tiny white pill each morning; nothing had happened. The bruises were still appearing at an alarming rate, barely healing before another one could take its place.

But the members had looked so relieved when Aria had come back into the dorms with an orange bottle clutched in her fist - so very relieved that there was something that could help, that yes, they knew what was wrong and there in those tiny white pills lay the answer that had been alluding them for so long.

Aria hated those tiny white pills.

Hated everything about them.

Nevertheless, she couldn’t bare to see Yuta look at her with such worry in his eyes again, couldn’t bare to see the flicker of panic that brushed Renjun’s face as he’d catch a glimpse of a mottled bruise over her collarbone.

She’d kept it hidden from most of the members, but unfortunately, some were more perceptive than others.

Taeyong, Yuta and Donghyuck were amongst the first to notice, with Renjun, Mark and Doyoung coming close behind. The other 127 members had been filled in when Aria had been sent to the hospital for her checkup, but the decision had been made to not tell the Dreamies until there was a prognosis available.

Anemia, was what they’d called it. Her blood cells just, went AWOL. Called it a day, and took the evening off.

So, taking it all into account, Aria couldn’t see the harm in keeping it all under wraps. She wasn’t in pain, and it wasn’t like anemia could kill her, even if the medication wasn’t doing what it was designed to do. It meant that she could stop taking the little pills, and if she had a stash of them buried in a cup in her bedside locker that she hid them in; then that was her business and nobody else’s.

Well. Until now.

“It did help! At the beginning!” Aria insisted, the lie spilling off her lips easily in an effort to sooth the upset that was building in the room.

A hand on her thigh had her looking over to Taeil, the man appearing grim. “You don’t have to make the truth pretty for us, baby. Tell us what’s going on. Why haven’t they been helping? Have you been taking them daily?”

“I- I stopped.”

“When?”

“A couple of weeks ago - I didn’t see the point in buying them when they weren’t helpful so I, I didn’t tell anyone when they ran out.” She hung her head slightly, focused on the flooring.

“Oh, baby.” Doyoung extended an arm and Aria all but flung herself into his chest. He ran a hand over her head and held her there, just breathing together. She really felt like crying again, even though the last time was only a couple of minutes ago. Everything was piling on top of each other; her back feeling like someone had tried acupuncture and failed miserably, the fact that she could probably sear a steak on her forehead what with how hot it was, the fact that she still couldn’t see because her glasses were on her locker, and now this?

“You know, we’re going to have to talk about this secret-keeping, right? Like it or not, you’re our maknae, and that means you don’t lie to us.” He pulled away to find her eyes, fixing her with a stare. “Especially, about important things like your health.”

“Had we known that they weren’t helping, we would have gone back to the hospital, seen what they could have told us. You didn’t need to hide this from us baby.” Taeil interjected, hand finding Aria’s.

She shook her head. “Don’ wanna go back to the hospital. Don’t like it there.”

Doyoung ran a hand through her hair. “I know baby, I don’t think many people do. Would you feel better if oppa came with you?”

That’s how you know Doyoung was really worried. If he referred to himself as oppa, in any context, then it was never really a question in the first place.

Aria forwent a verbal confirmation and chose to nod instead, pushing herself back into Doyoung’s warm embrace. He wrapped his arms around her, and held her loosely, still mindful of her back.

Speaking of, Taeil had disappeared midway through the conversation, now re-appearing with a glass of water and a painkiller tablet in the palm of his hand. His face was apologetic, but non-yielding as he pushed the pill into Aria’s palm and held up the glass of water for her to swallow it with.

The water was nice on her throat, and she realized how thirsty she was as she held onto the glass and drank the water, not caring of the little bit she spilled over her lower lip.

Taeil wiped it away with the end of his sleeve, folding up the now damp material before extending an arm and leaning back onto the pillow on her bed.

And Aria was weak, but even more so when she felt like the world was out to get her, so she went willingly into his embrace, letting him settle her in a position that wouldn’t strain her back.

“Heat or ice?” Doyoung called from the doorway.

“Heat?” Taeil looked down to check on an already dozing Aria. She nodded sleepily and, Taeil relayed the message to Doyoung, who disappeared through the door frame.

Aria snuggled deeper into Taeil’s chest, and the man pressed a cool hand to her forehead, frowning a little at the head.

“If I leave you to get a fever reducer, will you try to roll off the bed again.”

“No promises.”

191 notes · View notes

a-edgar-allan-hoe · 4 years ago

Text

The Red Witch

Jasper Hale x Reader Part 5

A/N: Part 5 is here my lovelies! Bon apetit! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list. 💕

Summary: Imagine being an immortal witch from the Middle Ages and being the previous love of Jasper before he was turned. You two were separated under certain circumstances and cross each other’s path once again, years later in the present era.

Warnings: Language

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

It was the year 1862. You were sitting in the private carriage of the train that early morning, on the route to Houston. This was your first time in America and you couldn’t help the excitement in you as stared out the window at the vast lands before you. Unbeknownst to Charlotte and some others, you were a countess at the time, in courtesy of your father, Count Balthazar, who was long dead. But you tried to keep your family history as confidential as possible, considering your father was a sorcerer and your mother a witch. When you grew into a young woman, you left your family castle and went your own way, leaving behind everything that reminded you of your cruel father and donated all his wealth to charity. As for your mother, she was a beautiful sea witch. After the death of your father, she was able to gain her freedom and now lives happily in a humble cottage on the coast of Scotland, close to her beloved sea, and married to the local clocksmith who loves her more than your father ever could.

The reason you were traveling to Houston was because you were recently invited out here to preform at the local theatre for charity, to which which all the funds would go towards the families affected by the war. You were a known opera singer at the time and people fell in love with your clear and soft voice that held all the emotion and sadness behind it which was beautiful to their ears. You were also quite an exceptional pianist. It originally started out as a hobby, something you decided to test the waters with, but you didn’t know it would grow into something serious, eventually venturing you out into having a strong passion for the arts like singing, acting, and even painting. When your father was around, you were never able to pursue such things. He believed they were nonsense, a complete and utter waste of time. While these activities were useless to him, they were your whole heart and soul for you. You breathed for the arts. You guess you had your mother to thank for that, she used to sing you a lullaby every night when you were a child to calm your nerves because of the visions you would have. Thankfully, those visions ceased to happen as you got older.

The gentle rocking and sound of the train had lulled you to sleep as you currently had your head leaned against the window and your feet thrown up on the seat of the train. Your hair was tied up in a bun with a peridot green ribbon while a few loose pesky strands fell about your face. A leather bound Wuthering Heights book was tucked neatly in your hands on your lap. You were wearing a simple grey long sleeved gingham linen dress with delicate black lace trim at the sleeves and your collar. A peridot green velvet ribbon was tied around your waist, your neckline sat at the bottom of your neck and covered your collarbone, and a few black buttons ran down the front of your bodice.

Your dear friend at the time was sitting across from you with her fiancé. Her name was Charlotte Griffiths, the daughter of a governor. And though she was mortal, you absolutely adored her, for she took you in when you nearly did not have a home and cared for you as if you were her own sister. Then again, you always adored mortals. This was before you had known Melanie whom you had only met in the 60s. Charlotte’s fiancé was Lord Ernest Thompson, the owner of a estate and a businessman. He was a kind, charitable, and respectable young man, and you thought he was the perfect match for Charlotte. They both were kind and gentle souls.

“Isn’t this exciting (Y/N)?” Charlotte squealed, waking you from your nap.

“Hm?” You opened your sleepy eyes to look at a blur of what most likely was your friend. “Oh of course.” You yawned, giving yourself a minute to adjust your eyes and mind to reality. “Technically you’re the one who begged me to accept the invitation for performing here and practically dragged me along.” You smirked.

“Oh admit it. I saw your face light up when you received that invitation. Anyways, isn’t this a wonderful little adventure for us? You’ve told me how much you liked to travel.”

“Well I wouldn’t quite call a civil war a wonderful little adventure.” You snarked lightheartedly, letting out a scoff before starting to dwell upon what sort of mess you’ve just gotten into.

“My god woman.” Ernest chuckled playfully, lifting his eyes from the newspaper he was reading, his glasses sitting at the bridge of his nose as he glanced at Charlotte. “Can’t you see (Y/N) was asleep?”

“Well I....I’m merely excited my love.”

“Merely?” He raised a brow.

“Oh you’re being harsh on her Ernest.” You joked along, smiling to yourself as the lovers started to lightly quarrel.

You stared out the window again, watching the scenery blur past. You have seen many lands in your time, how they have changed over the course of years, how some have come and vanished to dust. You have seen kings rise and fall. But you haven’t been here, to America. This was all foreign to you.

The train finally came to a stop at the train station and you quickly grabbed your things, desperate to get out and stretch your legs. You hastily threw on your matching bonnet, not caring that it sat crooked on your head. You rushed towards the door and hitched up your skirt, struggling with the petticoat and making sure not to go past the ankles of your boots and expose your stockings or else Charlotte would have a heart attack. You grabbed the handle and stepped down from the train and onto the wooden platform as Charlotte and Ernest followed suit.

Right when you stepped out you could feel the hot and thick damp air surround you, and you couldn’t help but bring out your fan and fan yourself vicariously.

“My goodness it’s muggy. It’s like the devil’s bollocks out here.” You breathed out.

“(Y/N)!” Charlotte exclaimed, smacking you gently with her fan. “Mind your manners!”

“Sorry.”

“You forgot your parasol by the way.”

“Oh. Right.” You took your parasol from her hands and opened it up, putting your fan away. “Wouldn’t want to forget my complexion guardian.”

You were so used to London weather, now you had to get used to this, and your corset was not helping either.

“Would you look at that Charlotte. The sun.” You made a point to her, only making her shake her head.

Once you were all settled and had your things you all headed to the nearest bed and breakfast and checked into your rooms. You and Charlotte shared one while Ernest had his own. You had just set your belongings inside before Charlotte decided now would be a good time to go to the local tea house, despite your slight dismay as you would much rather be taking a nap. You were sitting out on the tables in front of the local tea house, your head propped up by your hand and a cup of tea in your other, while chatting with Charlotte as you watched the local people pass by.

“My goodness. This heat, it’s nearly disgusting.” Charlotte fanned herself as she wiped her forehead.

“I’m sweating in places I didn’t know I had. I might as well be stripping myself bare to the bone.” You added, fanning yourself with your hand.

“I told you to wear a crinoline.”

“What? Those ghastly looking cages for your legs? Never.”

You stared off into the distance in a sort of dazed state, thinking about your comfortable bed back home, and your collection of books you left behind. You were also starting to miss your mother, wishing you were in Scotland watching the waves with her, before noticing that Charlotte had gone awfully quiet.

“What’s gotten into you?” You asked her, seeing her stare at something behind you. “Charlotte?”

“My my, I think you have an admirer.” She giggled, her youthful face lit up with giddiness as she tried to contain her laughter.

“What on earth are you babbling about?” You turned to follow her gaze and saw a tall stranger wearing a military uniform staring in your direction. You straightened up in your chair, your face firm as you started to feel yourself get anxious. You were silently hoping he wouldn’t come over to your table to strike up a conversation.

“Oh! He’s a rather fine looking gentleman I must say. Annnd he’s an officer.” Charlotte was now leaning in to whisper noticeably in your ear. You can practically hear her next you, trying so hard to contain her giggles.

“You’ve gone daft Charlotte. He’s obviously fancying you. You’re the pretty one.” You turned back around, completely disinterested.

“I think not! You know I’m engaged!”

“And how would he know that detail? Hm? A man who sees a pretty woman without any knowledge as to who she is, is most likely to approach her, without any assumption as to whether she is engaged or not. To which he’ll find out sooner or later I must add.” You ran on before taking a sip of your tea.

“Oh come now (Y/N). You know I wouldn’t.”

“I don’t know, you seem to be a little too excited upon seeing other men. I don’t hear you speak of Ernest as such, as I might recall, a rather fine looking gentleman.”

“You know I love my dear Ernest more than anything. I’m just trying to find you a suitor.”

“I honestly wish you wouldn’t.” You sighed inaudibly. “What I’m trying to say is, that gentleman over there does not know that. So just.....oh bloody hell. I don’t know. Just be prepared to decline his advances towards you.”

“You lack faith my dear.” She gave you a pitiful look before looking behind you once more. “Oh look! He’s coming this way!”

“He’s what?! Charlotte!” You hiss as you lightly slap your hands down on the table as to not draw attention. “Don’t just invite him over.”

“Ladies.” You heard the man now standing beside you as he took off his hat and lowered his head in a polite greeting.

You had gotten so nervous in the mere matter of a minute that you couldn’t stop yourself from letting out the next word that slipped your tongue. “Fuck.”

There was a brief silence as Charlotte and the stranger stared at you in utter disbelief at what a proper lady like you had just uttered. A few others who sat at the other tables near you in earshot stared at you in displeasure before looking away.

Oh just wonderful. You wanted the world to eat you alive right there so you could escape their peers.

You locked eyes with the officer for a brief moment before turning away and fixing your gaze on something else, doing your best to seem preoccupied. You wished you brought your book with you so you could bury your face in it.

Charlotte let out an uneasy laugh befor turning to the man. “Well hello officer! I’m Charlotte Griffiths.” You caught your friend extending her gloved hand out to him, to which he kissed lightly.

“Pleasure to meet you.” You heard him say in this thick southern accent you were definitely not accustomed to.

“This young lady here is my dear friend (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Charlotte. Stop this instance.” You leaned closer to her only for her to hear.

You were starting to feel embarrassed more than anything.

“Ma’am.” He now turned to you, to which you gave a short reply without making any eye contact.

“Good day.”

“You know (Y/N) here has come to preform for the opera tomorrow night. You should come!”

Charlotte you did not just.

You sat there with your arms folded and glared at her. She loved getting you into these predicaments, innocently enough. If only she knew how much it bothered you.

“Really?” He turned to you now, smiling. “I thought I heard that name somewhere.”

“Oh, well she’s only one of the best sopranos in England.”

“Ehem. Charlotte that’s quite enough. Thank you.”

You almost felt ridiculed at the moment as you felt the stares of everyone around you weighing in on you. And then that sensation started to creep on you. The same one you felt when you were a child. You glanced around, seeing and hearing the blood flowing through everyone’s veins and their hearts beating in their chests, glowing like a red ruby. You squeezed your eyes shut and pinched the bridge of your nose, silently muttering to yourself and remembering the meditation your mother taught you. Earth, fire, water, air, and spirit. You glanced up from underneath your bonnet as the sensation died down and you could finally hear Charlotte calling out your name.

“(Y/N). Are you alright?” Charlotte was reaching out a hand to clasp your gloved one, gently shaking them.

“I’m fine.” You breathed out while rubbing your temple. “It’s just a migraine.”

“Do you need anything for it?” Charlotte questioned you.

“No. God no. I don’t need any of that poison.” You got up from your seat and dusted yourself off before grabbing your parasol. “I’m going to head back to the inn if you don’t mind Charlotte.”

“Do you want me to walk you back?” The officer asked you, his voice laced with concern as he took a step towards you.

You took a step back away from him in response, still avoiding his eyes. “No. I’m quite alright. I’m pretty sure I can walk back to the inn without any assistance thank you.”

“Good day.” You nodded your head at him before turning away and heading back to the inn.

The officer was the most surprised at this situation if anything. He never received this sort of reaction before. Growing up, he always appeared to have a way with words and an influence over people, they always seemed to like him. His father called it charisma. And yet here you were, this woman he had barely just met, and you didn’t have the slightest sway from him. He was a bit perplexed at this, since he was now the one that was drawn to you.

You on the other hand, you found him to be rather bold. This had happened plenty of times before. Charlotte would bring over someone to introduce to you and it always ended up with you turning them down since everyone of them had been a cocky arrogant arshehole. But the one thing you didn’t want to admit to yourself was you were scared of falling in love. The last time you did, it didn’t end well. Ever since then, you tried to keep your distance and your emotions locked up. After all those years of isolation, you eventually led yourself to believe your curse made you incapable of love.

Tag List: @smileygirl08 @peachyevergreen @Lustdere @moonlights27 @krazykatkay456 @buckysjuicyplums @oi-itsemily @ahahanofanks @iberandom @bittergomez @holyhumorliteraturelight @bells3333 @ashdab2611 @toomanybandstocare @twilight-kpop @cricketlicket @5sosfanforever2001 @justine-en @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @shakespeareanbooty @pancake-pages @elisemurphy06 @ineffabledears @bella-stenbakken @seraphpheonix @trickylittlewitch @twilightrox @hobodolly @big-galaxy-chaos @mega-ultra-so-awesome-it-hurts @mikariell95 @decaffeinated--fangirl @lovestomanyfandoms @fairyunhappy @chaoticsimptown @leelee-ishman @hanster1998 @coricosplays @secretpickleprofessordean @itsbqueenthings @theweasleythatgotintoslytherin @corpseism

#jasper hale #jasper hale imagine #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale x y/n #jasper hale x you #jasper whitlock #jasper whitlock imagine #twilight imagine #twilight imagines #jasper whitlock x reader

280 notes · View notes

ibelieveinharrystyles · 4 years ago

Text

Strawberries On A Summer Evening

A soft imagine in which YN is one of the extras in the watermelon sugar music video and Harry can’t take his eyes off of her [2.2K Words] I hope you all enjoy this lovelies make sure to stream watermelon sugar! Masterlist

“And cut!” The director shouted, “That’s great ladies, go get yourselves some water and then we’ll go again in ten minutes. Harry can I run through a few things with you?” You made your way over to the table where bottles of water waited for you and the rest of the cast. There were spare slices of watermelon lying about, but you weren’t sure if you could face eating any more watermelon after the amount you had got through during filming. It was your first high profile job, the other music videos and projects you had been in were mainly for unsigned artists, so being in the Harry Styles’ music video was a pretty big deal. All the girls taking part were beautiful and so lovely to talk to, at first you had felt extremely out of your depth, but they had all gone out of their way to make you feel incredibly welcome.

“So we need a few more shots of you and the extras on the beach before we do the shots on the benches,” Blake, the creative director explained.

“Sounds wonderful, do you know who that girl is?” Harry replied, gesturing towards you as you spoke to a couple of members of the cast.

“Not sure, I think Lambert recommended her,” Blake told him, “We’ll be back on in five.” Blake walked off leaving Harry gazing at you, the sun capered over your skin, quite frankly Harry was in awe, he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off of you during filming, he was bold enough to look right at you when he was singing, but you were yet to approach him. He didn’t want you to think he was coming on too heavy so he just left it, it wouldn’t exactly be a great first impression to ask for your number straight away, whether he was Harry Styles or not.

“Hey Lambert how's it going?” Harry asked his stylist as he approached him for an outfit change.

“Things seem to be shaping up well, I reckon your fans will go mad for this video.” He replied, handing Harry a new outfit, Harry Lambert had known Harry for a while now, and they were pretty close, meaning he could read him like a book, “But you didn’t come over here to ask me about that did you?” Harry looked up at his stylist with a confused look on his face, “You wanted to ask about YN didn’t you? The girl in the blue bikini.”

“How did you know?” Harry asked, pretty impressed by his friend’s skills of deduction.

“Many reasons, firstly you’ve literally been staring at her throughout the whole shoot, you’re even doing so now, secondly the way you bounded over here like a puppy with a look inyour eyes that I haven’t seen in a long time, and thirdly I had a bet with Blake that you would ask me about her.” Harry Lambert smirked, folding and putting away Harry’s outfit.

“If this stylist thing doesn’t go anywhere for you Lambert I recommend you become a private investigator.” Harry laughed at his friend.

“You are going to talk to her aren’t you?”

“What, now?” Harry asked.

“There’s no time like the present.”

Harry shuffled across the sand awkwardly to where you were sitting on a step reapplying sunscreen. “Is this seat taken?” Harry asked, gesturing to the space on the seat beside you.

“Help yourself,” you smiled, rubbing suncream up and down your arms.

“How are you finding the shoot so far?” Harry asked, leaning back on the steps, the warm breeze from the sea hitting both of your faces.

“It’s been good, everyone’s so lovely, I think I expected everyone to be strictly professional, but I’m having a lot of fun, this is my first video shoot for a signed artist you see,” You explained.

“Really? Well I heard you came highly recommended.

“Been talking about me have you Styles?” Harry felt put on the spot, you had only known each other for a few minutes and you were already keeping him on his toes.

“No, I um, well-” Harry stuttered, unable to think up a plausible excuse.

“I’m messing with you, the last artist I worked with knows your stylist, he sent him my portfolio and it went from there.” You assured him, he was different to most men you had spoken to before, yes he was as charming as the media said he was, but he was also clearly nervous, stumbling over his words and offering you small smiles every so often. “Nice sunglasses by the way.” You told him as you struggled to rub sunscreen into your back.

“Thank you, do you want me to help you with that?” Harry asked politely, clearly not wanting to overstep the mark.

“If you don’t mind.” You replied, he took the bottle from your hand, squeezing some of the cream into his hand before slowly rubbing it up and down your back, his hands felt strong against your back which sent shivers up and down your spine, he made sure to cover your shoulders too, gently rubbing the suncream along your shoulders, his fingers lightly dancing along your collarbone.

“I think that’s all done, wouldn’t want my leading lady getting burnt now would I?” Harry smiled, admiring how well your bikini complimented your figure, but he didn’t mention it because he had just rubbed sunscreen into your back, and any other sudden advances could be too premature.

“Leading lady eh? Can I put that on my resume?” You teased.

“I mean one of my leading ladies, you look wonderful, you all do,” Harry stuttered, you were having that effect on him again, when you looked at him whilst he talked all he seemed to do was trip over his words, “We should probably get back down to the set, they’ll probably call time on the break in a minute.”

Filming was resumed as you and the rest of the extras laid sprawled across picnic blankets, Harry in the middle of you all. As the director shouting action Harry’s eyes were on you, “Baby, you're the end of June, I want your belly and that summer feelin' getting washed away in you.” As he sang to the music blaring out of the surrounding speakers he couldn’t take his eyes off of you as the two of you lay opposite each other, he sang the words to you, there was no question about it, he was definitely singing it to you, you bit your lip in response, which ultimately sent shivers up Harry’s core. “Harry that’s great, keep working with that!” Blake called from behind the camera, “Yep Harry get closer to YN please, the camera is loving that!” Harry moved towards you, you adjusted your positioning so that his body was sprawled across her as he sang into the camera, and clearly neither of them had any complaints about the arrangement. Harry could feel your heartbeat and it was truly comforting, he could also smell the scent of your perfume that was a mixture of strawberry and vanilla, whatever it was he thought that it’s sweetness suited you perfectly.

Filming had come to an end and the sun was slowly setting over Malibu beach, most of the cast had already left, with flights to catch for other jobs, but you were still there, talking to a few of the other girls about your previous jobs, “Sorry to interrupt you ladies, could I possibly steal YN away from you?” He asked, you turned to look at you, the slight wind catching the ends of your hair, he thought your smile was beautiful, but the golden rays of sunlight made it even more so. “Did you have a good day today?” Harry asked as the pair strolled along the edge of the beach, the waves lapping up onto their bare feet as they walked.

“It was incredible, everyone is lovely, I really enjoyed it,” You smiled, he was a little bit taller than you, so you would glance up to talk to him, taking in every inch of him as you did.

“I hope you don’t think of me as overstepping the mark, but I’m inviting some friends back to my house for some drinks and some food, you are more than welcome to come.” Harry told you, somehow he had gained more confidence in talking to you since your conversation on the steps, well lying across someone’s chest is a pretty plausible reason to get closer to someone.

“See I could interpret that in one of two ways, either that’s you telling me you are having friends over and I could come, or that’s you indirectly asking me to come to your house.” You replied, running through the soft waves of the sea.

“Yeah, it would be the latter.”

Harry’s house was impressive, really impressive, it made your apartment look like a shoebox in comparison, but the company was what completed it. Harry’s friends were lovely,most of them were from the shoot, meaning their faces were familiar, you had been there quite a few hours and honestly Harry was fine with it, you slotted in with his friends perfectly, like you had known them all for ages. He made a conscious effort to check that you were alright and kept offering to top up your drink if you wanted him to. After a lengthy conversation with the group about the best ice cream parlours in Santa Monica you realised it was just gone 2AM and you should probably be getting back to your airbnb. You excused yourself from the conversation, making your way out into the grand hallway of Harry’s home, putting your shoes back on along with your denim jacket. “Leaving so soon?” You heard Harry say as he appeared in the doorway.

“It’s 2AM, and I have a job in less than six hours.” You explained, your head feeling weary as a result of the constant sun exposure mixed with the two glasses of wine.

“I could drive you if you like,” Harry offered, desperate to spend more time with you.

“You’ve had like five glasses of wine, do you want to get stopped by the police or something?” You replied, “I’ve already ordered an Uber.”

“Well will I see you again?” Harry asked.

“Depends.”

“On what?” Harry asked.

“Whether or not you ask me on a date.” You replied.

“Well, would you like to go on a date with me?” Harry asked, unable to hide the massive grin on his face.

“How does Friday sound?”

***

And there you were, spending your Friday evening on a date with none other than Harry Styles. You were wearing a white summer dress, while Harry wore a yellow patterned shirt, buttoned halfway, being the hopeless romantic he was, he had taken you back to the beach where you first met, accompanied by a picnic that of course featured watermelon pieces and strawberries. “I’ve got a lot of memories on this beach you know.” Harry told you, admiring you as you dipped a strawberry in the melted chocolate.

“Is that so?” You smiled, glancing at the butterfly tattoo that poked through his shirt.

“Yeah, we filmed the band’s first music video here when I was like seventeen,on this very balcony,” he declared, gesturing at the beach house you were sat on, “and we filmed watermelon sugar here obviously, which is where I met you.”

“I like the last one the best,” you replied, but I can think of a new one that could trump it.” You replied.

“And what might that be?” Before he could say a word your lips were on his, taking each other in, the sweet taste of strawberries lingered on your lips as Harry kissed you softly, his hands wandering up and down your body, “You know something, I think that might be my new favourite memory sugar.” Harry whispered, pulling away from your kiss.

“Did you just call me sugar?” You giggled.

“Yeah, because you’re sweet like sugar.”

***

“H baby, the fans are going mad for it!” You called from the kitchen, sat at a barstool at the kitchen island, four months had passed since your date and you and Harry had only got closer. The last few months had been a whirlwind, so much so that Harry had asked you to isolate with him, he got lonely easily, and the idea of living with you was enough to make lockdown pass quickly.

“They like it do they?” He asked, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, kissing your neck softly, “What did your mum think of it?”

“I think she liked it, she said that her friends from work thought it was erm, interesting.” You giggled.

“I’m glad she enjoyed it sugar.” He replied, squeezing you tightly.

“I’m quite surprised she was so positive about it, considering it was basically a fully clothed orgy.” You laughed, holding onto his arms.

“Excuse me, it was a very tastefully executed orgy thank very much.” Harry told you, spinning the bar stool so that you faced him, “But what was your favourite bit sugar?”

“You, all of you.” You whispered, placing kisses along his jawline, “As lovely as it is reading what your fans think, how about I show you how it’s done.” You continued, knowing the feelings it would stir up in Harry, “Bedroom?” You muttered into his ear.

“Bedroom.” He replied, scooping you up into a bridal carry, trying to get you up the stairs to the bedroom quicker than you could say Watermelon Sugar High.

#harry styles #one direction #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #one direction memes #harry styles one shot #harry styles best friend fic #harry styles blurb #watermelon sugar #watermelon sugar mv #harry styles lockscreen #harry styles fanfic

998 notes · View notes

felassan · 4 years ago

Text

Dragon Age Library Edition Volume 1 annotations & additional pages/art compilation

Dragon Age Library Edition Volume 1 is a hardcover collection of some pre-existing Dragon Age comics that was released in 2014. It comprises of all issues of The Silent Grove, Those Who Speak and Until We Sleep. In places, it includes additional annotations/commentaries by the illustrators and authors, as well as a few additional pages with additional art. iirc these additional annotations and pages/art aren’t featured or available anywhere else (in the franchise I mean; other people have probably put them online at some point I’m sure).

From what I can see at least, Library Edition Volume 1 is no longer in print, and as such listings for it on resale sites etc are.. price-inflated & prohibitively expensive (~£100+, which I’m sure we can all agree is just not reasonable or accessible to most people). Due to this, I’ve compiled the additional annotations and pages here in this post. Thank you and credit to @artevalentinapaz, who kindly shared the material with me. This post has been made with their permission. The rest of this post is under a cut due to length.

These commentaries are in the context of The Silent Grove, Those Who Speak and Until We Sleep. If you notice any errors or annotations missing, or need anything clarified, just let me know. I think the annotations are in chronological order. In places I elaborated in square brackets to help explain which part of the comics an annotation is referring to. A note before you proceed further: some of the topics referenced in the annotations/additional pages are heavy or uncomfortable. The quotes here are word-for-word transcriptions of dev/creator commentaries, not my personal opinions or phrasings.

(Also, I do recommend always supporting comic creators by purchasing their comics legitimately. I own each issue of these comics having bought other editions of them all legitimately. The reason I put this post together is because this specific Library Edition volume has been discontinued and the consequently-inflated cost is so high, rendering the additional material inaccessible to most.)

-----

The Silent Grove annotations

Illustrator Chad Hardin: “I used to be an environmental artist for video games, so I built a 3-D model of Antiva City using the program Silo. Many of the buildings are simple cubes, but a few are more detailed. Overall, I spent the better part of a day building it, but I used it again and again throughout The Silent Grove to maintain continuity in the backgrounds.”

Script Writer Alexander Freed: “Even working with David Gaider, it took me several drafts to find Alistair’s voice. His narrative had to convey his humor and self-doubt from Dragon Age: Origins while suggesting a newfound weariness earned during his years on the throne. For readers familiar with the character, he needed to seem like a changed Alistair - but Alistair nonetheless.”

Chad Hardin: “If you read a lot of comics, you might wonder why the majority of the heroes wear skin-tight suits. Well, I can tell you: they are easy and quick to draw. In video games, you build the model once and then animate it, so details don’t slow you down. In comics, everything has to be rendered by hand. Varric and Alistair’s outfits were quite detailed. It took me a long time to get used to them, and even longer to memorize the designs until drawing them was second nature - Varric’s knee armor in particular! Oy vey!”

David Gaider: “One of my favorite scenes in the entire series [when Varric and Isabela are disarming traps and picking locks together while Alistair looks on]. Isabela and Varric, doing what rogues do. I had a suggestion for how to put it together, but Alex managed to make it fit and did a great job with it.”

Chad Hardin: “I never used to keep any of the artwork I created for comics. I would just hand the pages over to my agent to sell. This page [when Alistair, Varric and Isabela are in a tavern together, with hookah in the foreground] I kept for myself. I love the hookah-smoking elves in the second panel and Isabela’s face in the last panel. I rendered the first four chapters of The Silent Grove in grayscale using ink washes, gouache and Copie markers.”

David Gaider: “For a little while, Varric [in these comic stories] was supposed to be Zevran from Dragon Age: Origins, which would have made sense, Zevran being Antivan and all. I know that some fans would have loved to see him, but the dynamics of the group just didn’t work as well. Then a planned cameo later had to be cut for space. Ah well, Zev, another time.”

Alexander Freed: “Isabela at her most dangerous [climbing up the side of the cliff]. This scene - featuring a scantily clad, dripping-wet woman who tends to flaunt her sexuality - could easily have come across as exploitative, but Chad did a lovely drop portraying Isabela as purely focused and deadly.”

Chad Hardin: “Isabela rising out of the water and scaling the cliff with the knife in her mouth is one of my favorite parts of The Silent Grove. It is one of those moments where the writing really inspired the art. Hats off to Alex and David. This is another page I kept for myself.”

Colorist Michael Atiyeh: “This is one of my favorite Dragon Age pages. Chad is such an amazing artist; I feel very fortunate to have had the opportunity to work with him.”

Chad Hardin: “I love that this page [when a guard spots Varric and shouts ‘Intruder!’] made it in uncensored. So many times in comics, I draw something and some stuffy lawyers come out of the woodwork and tell me to tone it down. Dark Horse and BioWare always let me have fun, and this turned out to be one of my favorite pages with Varric and Bianca. Any guesses to which word he is mouthing in the second panel?”

Alexander Freed: “Note the simple decency of Alistair as he gives his cloak, without comment, to Isabela. For all his flaws, he’s genuinely kind at heart - a rare enough trait in Isabela’s world that I think it’s much of what she values in him.”

Chad Hardin: “I love the opening panel to this chapter [the opening panels to Chapter 3, when the team are on a ship at sea]. It’s the image I use on the homepage of my website. This page was a gift to my cousin Wendy, who loves pirates. Seascapes with sailing ships might be clichéd in fine art, but for me it was a first.”

David Gaider: “I wanted to have this story center on the group travelling to a Witch of the Wilds other than Flemeth, and originally I had set it somewhere else - until I remembered a Codex entry from Dragon: Age Origins that offhandedly mentioned a witch in the Tellari Swamps. Brilliant! It’d look like I planned it all along. I didn’t.”

Michael Atiyeh: “I love opportunities where I can show a change in the time of day as you move from panel to panel [when the ship heads towards and the team arrive in the Tellari Swamps]. I feel the palette of each panel is very distinct and beautiful.”

Alexander Freed: “Why did Alistair choose two people he barely knows to be his companions on this quest? We never make this explicit, but of course Varric is on the right track. Alistair wants to surround himself with people who don’t know him and won’t judge him, yet it’s Alistair’s idealism that Isabela and Varric work to preserve.”

Chad Hardin: “Another page where the writing inspired the art [when the group suddenly encounter a dragon]. I love the dragon bursting onto the scene and Isabela’s stare. Some writers will try to cram six or seven panels on a page like this and the pacing just doesn’t allow the artist to give each moment the right punch. Can you imagine if the first panel was crammed into a single square inch?”

Chad Hardin: “Yavana was one of the only characters that we did no preliminary sketches for. I don’t know how that happened, but thankfully it worked out.”

David Gaider: “I love how Yavana looks like a cross between Flemeth and Morrigan. Flemmigan? She’s totally Chad’s design, and it’s great. Typical for these witches, she never says things straight. In my mind, this Alistair is the one who did the Dark Ritual in Dragon Age: Origins - and I was half-tempted to have him lose his cool in this first scene [opening panels of Chapter 4] with her. Too early, though.”

Alexander Freed: “Through this whole sequence [the page when Varric aims Bianca at Yavana], Yavana is dropping cryptic hints and Alistair is refusing to play along. He’s met Flemeth and Morrigan - he knows Yavana won’t give him a straight answer, and he won’t give her the satisfaction of asking needlessly.”

Michael Atiyeh: “Sometimes it’s the little things on a page that spark my interest. Here [when the team navigate vines and mud to get to the temple], the sunset panel came out great and the mud looks really thick and gooey. It’s fun to focus on these details and make them stand out.”

Chad Hardin: “I hated drawing this scene [when Isabela gets kicked] where Isabela gets the boot to the face. Call me old fashioned, but I was raised to believe that only a coward would ever hit a woman (even a battle-hardened pirate adventurer). I draw at home, and my girls often watch me work in my studio. This was a page I didn’t want them watching me draw. I do like, though, that Isabela gets up, yanks the arrow out, and then soldiers on (and later extracts brutal revenge).”

Michael Atiyeh: “Poor Isabela. It seems I gave her more bruises and black eyes than any of the other characters. [when Isabela is yanking the arrow out]”

Chad Hardin: “It’s always interesting to go back and look at artwork because it reminds me of what was going on in my life at the time. I inked this page [opening panels of Chapter 5] at a ‘draw night’ session at an anime convention in St. George, Utah. I was one of the special guests, but I missed the first day because I was at my grandfather’s funeral in Las Vegas, Nevada. Seeing this page brought back those memories.”

David Gaider: “‘Bianca says hello.’ [quoting the panels being referenced] I adore Varric. I was tempted to have him narrate the entire series [in reference to these three comics], but then again I liked the idea of having each series center on one of the trio’s viewpoints. This book belongs to Alistair, but that doesn’t stop Varric from getting all the best lines.”

Alexander Freed: “Claudio, of course, is not a terribly sympathetic figure. But I wanted to emphasize that he takes this fight as personally as Isabela - he sincerely loved Luis and blames Isabela for the man’s death. I think it’s important to give every character, even the most loathsome, some dignity. [when Isabela and Claudio are fighting]”

Chad Hardin: “Payback! Here is where Isabela extracts her revenge on Claudio [when Isabela stabs Claudio]. I never enjoyed killing off a character so much. I particularly enjoyed putting the look of shock in his eyes. He had it coming. There is something satisfying about killing a ‘made man’.”

Chad Hardin: “Every now and then when drawing comics, I wish I could animate some panels and watch them as a cartoon. It would be great to see this sequence [when Yavana catches Claudio’s soul] in full motion as Yavana snatches Claudio’s soul, makes it reenter his corpse and then extracts information from him until he bursts into flame. It was a very Hellboy-ish moment. I enjoyed the movie that played in my mind while drawing this scene. Hope everyone liked the result.”

Chad Hardin: “As I mentioned on page 17, I rendered the first four chapters in grayscale, which made the black-and-white art look great, but had a neutralizing effect when it came to colors. By the time I drew chapter 4, I had seen the effect it was having and decided to stop using the grayscale so the colors would pop. When I saw this page [when Alistair says to Yavana ‘And we helped you find it’] in print, it confirmed to me that I made the right decision. I honestly feel this art was the best of The Silent Grove.”

Chad Hardin: “I practically painted these pages [when Yavana says ‘It is permitted. Tonight and only tonight’] in thumbnails hoping it would help me choose how to render them in ink. It is so hard trying to figure out how to get a full range of value out of just black and white. There are some artists and inkers that make this look easy. Mark Schultz comes to mind. Michael saved my bacon. Colorists really do so much work when it comes to rendering; this page came out awesome because of him.”

David Gaider: “Here we reveal the existence of Great Dragons (as opposed to High Dragons), and also that Yavana was the source of the return of dragons to Thedas after their departure for so many centuries. But why? There’s the rub, and not even Alistair can trust that she’s telling him the truth.”

David Gaider: “Here’s the controversial scene [Alistair killing Yavana]. I think some fans don’t like that Alistair did this, and have said they consider it out of character. I don’t. From his perspective, Flemeth and her daughters have been toying with the world for reasons that can’t be trusted. They dragged Maric away from his family, from him. One might think his judgement foolish, but considering what Alistair was capable of deciding even back in Dragon Age: Origins, it’s certainly not out of character.”

Chad Hardin: “[same scene as above] This was a controversial page, and there were a lot of people who thought it was out of character for Alistair to kill Yavana (I didn’t see it coming - I mean, you just don’t kill a Witch of the Wild), but here is the thing: this page is Alistair acting as a king. Yavana has been manipulating him, trying to play him like a pawn, and he just can’t allow that. There’s too much at stake, for himself and for his subjects.”

Alexander Freed: “The end? An end, at least [the trio walking off into the distance]. The series needed a note of closure while leading into Those Who Speak (which wouldn’t arrive until many months later). David tweaked the ending in the outline several times, and I did my best to balance resolving Alistair’s emotional journey without resolving the quest. It’s not as clean as I’d have liked, but fortunately, now it’s all in one volume...”

Those Who Speak annotations

Alexander Freed: “Capturing Isabela’s narrative voice was much easier for me than capturing Alistair’s - partly because I’d already written The Silent Grove, and partly because of my own writing proclivities. Rereading now, I wonder if I laid on the (mild) profanity a bit too thick. I’ll leave you to judge.”

David Gaider: “I like the additional detail Alex and Chad put in, letting us see more of Qarinus and more of Isabela’s crew. Alex wanted to give her crew more of a presence, and let her first mate have some face time, so they weren’t just parts of the scenery. Good call on his part.”

David Gaider: “I’m really fond of the formal getups Chad made for the party. Isabela’s actually comes from a concept we didn’t use from the cancelled Dragon Age 2 expansion, if I remember right. And Maevaris came from me asking for ‘someone who looks like Mae West’ - with the wonderful outfit all Chad’s doing.

Chad Hardin: “Maevaris. I love Mae. When David and Dragon Age art director Matthew Goldman spoke to me about designing Mae, they wanted her to be fully female with the exception of her biology. They told me to think ‘Mae West’. Well, when I think of Mae West, I think of her... womanly shape. So, drawing Maevaris was always walking a fine line between portraying Mae’s identity and her biology. The process endeared her to me.”

Michael Atiyeh: “Just like in The Silent Grove, we are introduced to another gentleman from Isabela’s past [when the team meet Lord Devon and Isabela threatens him]. As was the case with Claudio, he will meet his fate at her hands.”

Chad Hardin: “When I was drawing Titus, my kids asked me why I was drawing ‘angry Jesus’ or ‘evil Jesus’. I can’t remember which term they used exactly, but it made me chuckle. I was going for a mix of Rapustin and Joe Stalin, but ‘evil Jesus’ would do.”

David Gaider: “I’m not sure it’s apparent here [when Alistair says ‘I’d really rather not’], but Alistair was supposed to be using one of his Templar powers on Titus (that’s why Titus recognizes what he is on the next page) and disrupting his magic.”

Alexander Freed: “Isabela is witty and charming enough that it can be easy to forget that she’s not, in fact, a nice person. Even after finishing the outline, David was concerned about making her too unsympathetic - but I loved his approach in this series. The dark deeds Isabela commits - this murder included [Isabela killing Lord Devon] - are what make her guilt tangible and no easy matter to overcome.”

Alexander Freed: “I thought the notions of Isabela’s pride in her captaincy and dedication to her crew were some of the most interesting aspects of her character in David’s story. In scenes here [when Isabela is on her ship saying ‘Keep them focused and keep them sober’] and elsewhere, I did my best to emphasize their place at the core of Isabela’s world.”

Chad Hardin: “Most of the time I draw from imagination, but because of the complexity of this page [Qunari trying to board Isabela’s ship] I decided it would work better if I had photo reference. On this page are my nephews Jared (Varric) and Adam, my niece Melissa, my kids Erica, Tasey Michaela (Isabela) and Chad (Alistair), my friend’s daughter Amy, my wife Joy, and the neighborhood kids as Isabela’s pirate crew. (The crew member mooning the Qunari is out of my ol’ noodle.) I paid their modelling fee in pizza and root beer. Also, I had originally drawn cannons on Isabela’s ship, so if there are parts of it that look slightly wonky, chances are there was a cannon there.”

David Gaider: “Ever since the BioWare artists finally did a concept for female Qunari, I’ve been itching to include one in the game. It’s always slipped through my fingers, so I was going to be damned if I’d have a Qunari plot in a comic - without the same technical limitations - and not have one present.

Chad Hardin: “I had no idea this was the first time anyone outside of BioWare had seen a female Qunari.”

Michael Atiyeh: “I really like the lighting in this sequence [Isabela in her cell thinking ‘I haven’t eaten in days’], especially the strong white light and the characters in shadow.”

David Gaider: “The entire sequence of Rasaan interrogating Isabela was something I plotted out in detail when this series began. Here they discuss names - something treated in a manner peculiar to the Qunari, considering how much importance they apply to what things are called (and not called), because it forms the core of their identity. Isabela brushes it off, but as we find out later it’s also at the core of her identity. I liked that parallel.”

Alexander Freed: “To balance out the relatively static talking pages elsewhere in the issue, I hoped to make the interrogation and flashback sequences beautiful and full of information. I proposed an approach to Chad, and he wisely reshaped it into what you see here [the page with the scene where Isabela says ‘I’ve made a lot of stupid mistakes’]. Anything that succeeds on these pages should be credited to him; anything that fails is my fault.”

Chad Hardin: “Probably the most challenging spread I have ever done. My friend Stacie Pitt was the model for Isabela on this page, and my wife Joy was Rasaan. I saved these pages [around the scene when Rasaan says ‘Mistakes can be corrected’] for myself.”

David Gaider: “Sten from Dragon Age: Origins becoming the new Arishok of the Qunari was something we'd planned even during Dragon Age 2. This was a great opportunity to show that, and also to show that Sten didn’t acquire horns even despite the makeover the Qunari received in DA2. Hornless Qunari are considered special, and Sten is no exception.”

Michael Atiyeh: “I think that David, Alex and Chad handled Isabela’s flashback [to when she was sold by her mother] in an interesting way, and it created a nice flow to the story.”

David Gaider: “This was a controversial scene [what happened to the slaves Isabela was transporting], the end result of a lot of discussions between me and Isabela’s original writer on the team, and it went through a lot of revisions over that time. It needed to fit with the story Isabela told the player in DA2, but fill in the blanks of what she didn’t tell. We didn’t want Isabela to be someone who became who she is because she was ‘broken’ but instead as a result of her own actions - yet also not be completely beyond redemption.”

Chad Hardin: “These were hard pages [as above] to draw. It was difficult knowing that events such as this are part of human history, such as the Zong massacre in 1781, where the British courts ordered the insurers to reimburse the crew of the Zong for financial losses caused by throwing slaves overboard when faced with a lack of water. Horrifying beyond words.”

Michael Atiyeh: “Here, Isabela visits here crew, and I wanted to play up that she was in the light and they were in a dark cell. The light streaming through the bars gave me the opportunity to highlight Brand, who also had dialogue in the scene.”

Alexander Freed: “I struggled to find a way for Varric to contribute to victory without distracting from Alistair and Sten’s big fight. I’m happy with the solution: a brazen lie seemed appropriate to the character without taking away from the main show.”

David Gaider: “I believe my original plan had Isabela’s and Alistair’s fight scenes happening separately, but I like how Alex intertwined them in the script and I especially like how this ends up highlighting the differences between their characters when their fights are resolved. Isabela is defiant, revealing her name not because Rasaan demands it but because it’s her choice. In both cases, mercy is strength.”

Michael Atiyeh: “The brush I created for the clouds really gave them a nice watercolor effect here [on the deck of the ship, Sten calling Alistair ‘kadan’]. That brush has become a staple in my toolbox.”

Alexander Freed: “With the strong theme of names running through these issues, I liked the notion that Isabela had outgrown being, well, ‘Isabela’. When her name comes up in Until We Sleep, it’s largely played with ambiguity.”

Until We Sleep annotations

Alexander Freed: “The story of ‘Arthur’ is one of my favorite minor sequences [Varric infiltrating and fighting his way into the fortress]. It tells us something about Varric and it delivers plot information - and it’s also a reminder that our heroes kill an awful lot of people during these series and cope with it in their own ways. In general, writing Varric let me skirt the edge of metacommentary, which I greatly enjoyed.”

David Gaider: “Varric, as always, is my ‘voice of the narrator’. Here he’s expressing some of my own amusement at Alistair’s growing list of peculiarities [‘Your majesty is quite the special snowflake’]. To think, back at the beginning of Dragon Age: Origins he was just the player’s goofy sidekick who grew up in a barn.”

Michael Atiyeh: “By the third series, Until We Sleep, I really started to have a complete feel for what I wanted the final art to look like. As an artist, it’s important to continue to evolve and grow. The close-up of Sten’s face [same page as above] is a perfect example of how I wanted the rendering on the characters to look.”

Alexander Freed: “David’s outline called for a short, somber reveal of the Calenhad story by Sten. Fueled by my desire to avoid ‘talking heads’ sequences, I scripted it as a full-on storytelling flashback. David made sure the history worked (at least from the Qunari point of view), and Chad did a beautiful job handling it in a mere two pages.”

David Gaider: “Blood is important in Dragon Age, as a theme. Here we tie in the dragon blood that was mentioned all the way back in The Silent Grove and explain what it means at last. I was a bit hesitant to tarnish the legend of Calenhad the Great in this way, but I comfort myself with the knowledge this tale is but a viewpoint and not necessarily the entire truth.”

Michael Atiyeh: “Titus melting the attacker is a great example of classic comicbook storytelling and exactly what made me fall in love with the medium.”

David Gaider: “I was really happy with how Chad handled the reveal of Mae as transgender [the scene with Mae in the cell]. My worry was that Varric finding her disrobed might be potentially titillating, but I think he handled it nicely. I only wish there was more time to have Mae properly respond to being exposed in this manner, even to a friend.”

Chad Hardin: “I originally drew Mae as female [same scene as above], then changed her anatomy, so the psychological violation and humiliation she felt would be the focus. Hope that came across.”

Chad Hardin: “When in doubt, have Bianca shoot it [Varric shooting the artifact].”

David Gaider: “This scene [Varric and Bianca the dwarf] with Varric was one I wanted to do for a very long time. We’ve hinted that Varric’s crossbow was named after a real person, someone he never wants to talk about. Now I finally had the chance to show why.”

Chad Hardin: “Of all my Dragon Age pages, this scene was hands down my favorite, because Varric is my favorite. It was awesome to get to draw Bianca in her dwarven form. These scenes give you a glimpse of the love Varric and Bianca shared. It doesn’t tell you the whole story, but you can assume plenty from what is shown. You get to see Varric mostly naked (you’re welcome), but most of all you witness Varric’s heartbreak. I felt privileged to draw it. I got so obsessed with drawing this page I did an entire watercolor painting based on the last panel [Varric gets up to leave, ‘This isn’t right’ - ? or perhaps the scene where he opens the door to leave].”

Alexander Freed: “Unreliable narrators are always tricky - done wrong, they can just confuse the reader. But I’m fairly happy with Varric’s lies throughout this series, most of which are used to downplay the emotional cost of events rather than whitewash the events themselves.”

Michael Atiyeh: “This palette worked perfectly [Varric standing in front of the doorway/portal in the Fade proper], but I can’t take all the credit because BioWare provided reference for the Fade. I added the hot orange energy for the doorway, which looks great with the sickly green sky.”

David Gaider: “This scene [Isabela’s Fade nightmare] was actually inspired by a fan named Allegra who did a cosplay as a Qunari version of Isabela. I knew I wanted something like this for Isabela’s Fade section of the comic, but it didn’t really solidify until I saw the cosplay.”

Chad Hardin: “Isabela is more affected by her encounter with Rasaan than we were led to believe. A portent of things to come?”

Michael Atiyeh: “I love this shot of Mae in the fourth panel [on the page where Isabela is affected by vines]. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention what a great character she is in the series, and Chad captures her beautifully in this shot.”

Alexander Freed: “I saw this issue as a sort of downbeat victory lap. Over the course of the previous series, our protagonists largely came to terms with the inner demons the Fade confronts them with here. The fact they’ve come so far lets them win this last battle... but they still have scars that will never completely disappear.”

David Gaider: “Maric was in the first two novels I wrote for Dragon Age. Seeing Chad’s rendering of him as a regal, grown-up version of Alistair made me incredibly nostalgic. Some characters you just never let go of.”

Alexander Freed: “I feel Varric’s lines (‘tell yourself the stories you need to tell’ but ‘never live your own lies’) are the natural endpoint of all the exchanges he’s had with Alistair, starting from the end of Chapter 1 of The Silent Grove. And of course it plays off the story of ‘Arthur’, as well.’’

Chad Hardin: “I’m happy with the way Titus came off in these pages [Titus attacking and saying ‘The last magisters of Tevinter were so close’]. He looks threatening and powerful when fighting Alistair, Isabela and Varric, but genuinely confused by his inability to defeat Maric. Bye-bye, evil Jesus.”

Alexander Freed: “I can’t help but feel for Titus. He was unthinkably corrupt, but I see him as genuinely motivated by Tevinter’s glory. (The fact Alistair reads zealous ideology as a lust for power says a lot about both characters.)”

Michael Atiyeh: “I love the seamless transition of color from Titus’ magic to the dragon breath and then back into the orange remnants of his magic in the smoke. This was a really fun panel to color [Titus saying ‘Die by what wrought you’].”

David Gaider: “‘You are not the dreamer here. I am.’ I always have a scene or a line that’s in my head when I begin a tale, and this line of Maric’s was one I wanted all the way back when I started working on The Silent Grove.”

Chad Hardin: “I love this page [Maric and Alistair clasping hands]; Mike’s colors are spot on. We get to see all our heroes in an ideal state for the last time. This is the last Dragon Age page I saved for myself.”

David Gaider: “This scene kills me [Alistair destroying the Magrallen]. I knew it needed to happen; I knew I wanted it to happen even back when I began the story. Alistair lets Maric remain in the Fade rather than dragging him back to a world which has moved on. Alistair’s ready to move on, but forcing him to give up that hope... it makes me feel like a bad person.”

Chad Hardin: “Heartbreak for Alistair as he realizes that once again, as a king, he must kill: this time, his own father (granted, the Magrallen did most of the work). I really like how Maric crumbles away in the end. This was my last page, and the emotions on the page and in my studio were very final. Altogether, this was a year of my life in the making. On my last page, I wrote a thank you to everyone involved, the crew at Dark Horse and the crew at BioWare. I’d like to take this opportunity to thank them again. It was a thrill. Finally, a huge thank-you to the Dragon Age fan community, whose support was overwhelmingly awesome.”

Michael Atiyeh: “As the story came to an end, I knew I was going to miss these characters. Writing these annotations reinforces the fact that I hope to work with this great creative team again one day. Many thanks to Dark Horse and BioWare for the opportunity to work on Dragon Age.”

Alexander Freed: “The tension between the art and the narration on this page [the one with Alistair sitting on his throne while nobles argue] is something you can only pull off in comics. Neither tells the full, bittersweet story alone. Similarly, these issues wouldn’t have been possible without everyone on the team; thanks to David, Chad, Michael, and everyone I lack space to list!”

Additional pages / art

Library Edition Volume 1 also came with some additional pages, with additional art and commentary. These are as follows (I’m including them for the sake of completion, click the links to see):

1. Alistair and dragon concepts

2. Rasaan and Maevaris concepts

3. Sten, Titus and Yavana concepts

4. A series of cover pages 1

5. A series of cover pages 2

In case anyone has trouble reading the notes that accompany these images, I’ve transcribed them below:

1. Dragon Age Sketch Book

Alistair Concept

Dragon Age / Dark Horse

Chad Hardin: “The headshot of Alistair is from a finished sketch with a rejected armor design. In order to save time, the redrawing was completed on the computer, where tweaks and changes are quick and easy, if somewhat less glorious.”

[Dragon] Head #1 / Head #2

Chad Hardin: “Everyone liked this dragon sketch so much that Dark Horse printed it for signings at conventions. You can see I did multiple proposals for the dragon’s head. It was more effective than drawing the body over and over.”

2. [arrow pointing to Mae’s sleeve] concealed [I think that’s what it says anyway] daggers / shurikens?

Chad Hardin: “When designing Rasaan and Maevaris, I wasn’t exactly sure how their roles would play out in the series. Maevaris’ outfit was inspired by brothel madams of the Wild West. I thought it would be cool to have some weapons concealed in the formal wear. These never came into play in the series, but they were there in my mind.”

3. Chad Hardin: “Although we only see Titus in his battle garb in one issue, I really liked the design of his armor. The sketch of Yavana was done on the fly and served as both a rough preliminary sketch and as a panel layout. You have to work hard and smart in comics to keep up with the deadlines.”

4. Cover Artist Anthony Palumbo: “This was my first assignment for Dark Horse, and I was both excited and nervous. I drew pencil sketches of the main characters, scanned them and played with different arrangements, poses and color schemes in Photoshop.”

5. Anthony Palumbo: “Fellow illustrator Winona Nelson helped me by sitting for photo reference. I created the mock-jewelry with gold-painted Sculpey. That’s a quick photo of my own gaping maw, to help with the image of Varric.”

#dragon age #bioware #video games #artevalentinapaz #alistair theirin #fav warden #morrigan #queen of my heart #long post #longpost

63 notes · View notes

trash-but-respectable-trash · 4 years ago

Text

The brothers + Diavolo reactions to you taking them to a water park (and their reactions to seeing you in a swimsuit for the first time wink wink)

This is a continuation to my post on their reaction to an human amusement park, it’s a bit NSFW especially towards the end of the post.

Lucifer:

- Ok let’s start with what you came in for, his reaction to seeing you in a swimsuit for the first time

- He’s not a patient guy, so when you make him wait because you’re looking at yourself in the mirror of the changing room, he’s starting to lose his cool

- But when you finally come out, he’s speechless, he didn’t expect you to wear such a revealing swimsuit (you could literally be wearing a ski suit and he would think the same thing)

- He’s looking at every bit of skin that is usually covered by your uniform or everyday clothes and all he can do is smirk a little

- In his eyes, you’re gorgeous and no one looks better than you in the entire water park

- There’s no need to feel self conscious with him, he’s looking at you like you’re a piece of art and he just can’t stop looking at you

- He’s well behaved though, so he won’t make comments expect that you look beautiful

- Now that he has seen so much skin, he can’t help but wonder how you would look naked in his bed

- Ok now for the actual water park part, this dude is soooo pale

- He will put on so much sunscreen so he doesn’t tan during the day, he needs to keep his vampire aesthetic

- He’ll be wearing black trunks and an open shirt because he wants to hide his scars of his precious angel wings

- He really enjoyed the lazy river, for once in his life he got to relax for a couple of minutes

- Well, at least until Levi tried to drowned Mammon in two feet of water

- He’s the one causing the most trouble acting like they’re “accidents”

- As always, he’s having fun but he won’t admit it

Mammon:

- Just like Lucifer, he’s not a patient demon

- He was about to go get you when you came out

- He stop dead in his track, just taking the sight of you in whatever swimsuit you decided to wear

- It’s like he’s in a trance, he can’t get his eyes off of you

- You need to wave yours hands in his face for him to finally react

- He’s red as a beet and he actually can’t formulate a sentence

- When he’s finally calm enough, he’ll start going back to his old self and tell everyone who dare look at you to look somewhere else, you’re his human!

- But if you don’t like when he does it, he’ll stop

- On one particular slide where it’s a two person tube, he gets stuck with Lucifer and almost didn’t live to tell the tale

- Basically, Lucifer “accidentally” pusheed him of the tube and Mammon went over the slide almost falling to his death but somehow ended up falling directly in the pool below

- He also couldn’t use his wings because they’re prohibited from changing to their demon form when they’re in the human world for obvious reasons

- Other than the near death experience, he really liked the water slides and it was a great way to show off his body

Leviathan:

- At first he feels super awkward waiting for you to come out, there’s a lot of people and they’re not wearing a lot of clothes either, he’s not use to seeing so many 3D people wearing nothing more than swimsuits

- He was also sad that he couldn’t bring his consoles or phone because they’re not waterproof

- When you come out, he actually gets a nosebleed

- If he felt awkward being near strangers wearing swimsuits, how is he supposed to feel when YOU’RE the one in a swimsuit!

- He will get over it (eventually) but he will be a blushing mess every time he looks at you

- He’s a sea creature, of course he likes water and water parks

- Just be careful that he don’t accidentally change to his demon form and scare everyone there

- If he does and someone sees him, just say that he’s the water park mascot, yep that should work

- He will be in water 90% of the day, on water slides, in the lake if they have one or in the wave pool, as long as he’s in water he’s happy

- Also happy to have a chance to drown Mammon

Satan:

- He doesn’t like to be kept waiting in general, but for you, he’ll wait as long as it takes you to be confortable enough to come out of the changing room

- When you do, he stop breathing for a second and turns bright pink

- He didn’t thought much of it at first, but now that he’s actually seeing you in your sexy swimsuit, he’s really glad he accepted your invitation to go the water park

- He wish he was the only one seeing you like this

- Just like Lucifer, he has dirty thoughts throughout the day, especially when you get a nip slip while getting out of the wave pool, after that his mind is racing and the image is still burning in his head even though it was barely anything

- He’s a real gentleman, so he won’t make any comment about your little accident and will give a deadly state to anyone who dares even thinking about saying something about it

- On another note, he’s also very pale since there’s no sun in the Devildom and he’s indoors most of the time

- But demons don’t get sunburns, so nothing real happens to his skin other than a little tan that is barely visible

- He actually brought a book with him and instantly got it wet by Mammon, it wasn’t his best idea

- Even thought he didn’t have anything to read, he still really loved his day with you and even propose to go another time, but only the two of you

- Nope, it’s definitely not because he wants to see you in a bathing suit again

Asmodeus:

- He was probably in the changing room with you, switching between the 10 bathing suits he brought just in case

- There’s also a good chance he gets out of the dressing room after you

- He helped you choose your bathing suit the day before, looking for the one who compliments the most your form and your skin tone

- When he saw you try them on the day before, let’s just say his thoughts weren’t pure, they’re never pure

- But he managed to keep his hands to himself

- He still made lots of comments and tried to make you wear some questionable swimsuit that were definitely not appropriate for a water park full of people

- Honestly the swimsuit he actually chose to wear after trying all of them isn’t appropriate either

- When you get to the water park, he puts so much sunscreen and will propose to help you put sunscreen on places you can’t reach, accept at your own risks

- He doesn’t actually go on any water slides, because he can’t risk ruining his strawberry blonde hair with chlorine

- He might go waist deep in the wave pool if you ask him to go with you, but that’s it

- He’s flirting with anyone who finds him cute at the water park, you actually lose him for a while when he starts talking to some of his new fans

- If you don’t like it, he’ll stop and make sure you’re the only one who gets his attention for the rest of the day

Beelzebub:

- He brought lots of snacks, and since he isn’t allow to bring food on the water park grounds, he eats them all while waiting for you to get out of the changing room

- When you get out, let’s just say his appetite change for a different kind of snack

- He think you look delicious amazing

- He wonders what he did to deserve you

- He’s trying really hard to not just snatch you and go to a more private place

- You might need to return to the food court where you’re allowed to eat after every few slides because all the walking and sliding is making this boy hungry

- He’s so huge that he needs to go alone on slides where it’s supposed to be a two person tube

- Like mentioned before, he’s easy to please as long as you and Belphie are there, he’s an happy boy

- You’re also quite happy yourself, since you get to see him shirtless alllll day loooong

Belphegor:

- He missed you getting out of the changing room because he was sleeping as always

- When you wake him up, he actually ask if you’re an angel and if he’s still dreaming

- When he’s awake enough, he’s acting like seeing you in a swimsuit isn’t anything special, but deep down he’s a mess

- You’ll need to give him a moment before he stand up so he can calm his heartbeat and something else in his pants

- For real, he wasn’t super excited to go to the water park because it requires him to be awake, but after seeing you in your swimsuit he suddenly doesn’t mind staying awake anymore

- Beel will still have to carry him on his back like a koala

- Belphie insists for you to do every slide with him, which ends up with a fight between him and Mammon on who gets to go with you

- You should go on the lazy river at the very end of the day because after that he’ll be too tired to go on any more slides since he sleep all the way through the lazy river

- It will also take him a couple of days of sleep for him to recover from this very exhausting day

(I don’t know why, but the whole time I imagined him being too lazy to change into his swim trunk and just going on every slides with the sheep onesie he’s wearing in his new SSR card)

Diavolo:

- Another human culture activity, how fun!

- And he gets to show his awesome body (and see yours), it’s perfect!

- He has a soft spot for you, so he doesn’t mind waiting for you to get out of the dressing room

- When you get out, he thinks you look exactly like he imagined you would look like, even though he won’t tell you that

- His soft spot for you isn’t so soft anymore..... haha sorry

- For real, you can clearly see what effects you have on him since he’s wearing very form fitting swim trunk and let’s just say his dick isn’t small either

- He won’t act on it obviously, he’ll wait till your back at the house he’ll just say you look really good in your swimsuit and leave it at that for now

- He’ll attract tons of looks on himself since he’s really big in size compared to humans

- People won’t dare approch him though, he’s quite intimidating even when he’s smiling

- He will drag Lucifer with him on every single slides, he needs to try them all!

- He’s actually disappointed that he can’t take pictures on the water park grounds, he wanted to show Barbatos how much you guys were having fun that day once you all get home

#obey me #obey me!#obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo

486 notes · View notes

nikkywrites · 3 years ago

Text

Fool, King of Sea (Ocean's Heart Side Story)

Summary: Amphitrite has never seen a divine fool enough face constant rejection for a domain they do not seem to like. Poseidon is, though, the greatest fool she's ever met. And Calypso is a great friend, when she's not being irritating.

*****

One thing that is of short supply in the ocean is good fun.

It can be made, of course, games built around redirecting ships to wrong ports, seeing who can sneak unaided by divinity into captain's quarters, who can race from Crete to Corinth the quickest. Games that are not made for one.

Calypso is good fun when she wants to play, is a challenge Amphitrite loves to play with. They toss their wins back and forth, banter in barbs they only laugh at. Calypso is a great companion, when she is around.

But there are times when she is not.

Alone, Amphitrite gets bored all too quickly, aimlessly searching through the water. She'll rest with her creatures some days, care for them like the pets they all are, but some days she wants excitement and no one is around to deliver.

Then comes something rarer than excitement -- a divine looking to be king.

It is obvious at a glance that this man does not belong. He is tall with thin hips and too much rage boiling in his bones. He must be some sort of new, thinking he can demand ocean to let him rule. It chooses who it will.

Watching this godling try to force himself upon her home is amusing. It remains cold, rejecting and rejecting him. What a fool, to keep trying.

He slinks away eventually, face pinched and muscles coiled tight. There's a rage boiling in his blood, rage the water rejected without hesitation. Amphitrite laughs at his retreat. It is little wonder her domain does not want him. He is entirely too hot for the cold waters. He will boil her home to steam or it will shatter him.

Ah. Well, it was nice while it lasted. Divines did not handle rejection. He would not face the humiliation again, however amusing it would have been to watch. She feels Calypso's call below, from the deep that is more home to her than Amphitrite, the deep that even she finds too chilling. She watches the point of shore the young god had been standing on and turns to go find Calypso. The call is purposefully untraced and it is a call to find her before she rises to air.

The young god's defilement of her home slips from her mind.

-----

Calypso can look awfully disappointed when she wishes to, can arrange her features in a way that niggles even at her. There is something about the arch of her brow and the curve of her frown and the angle of her eyes that stabs at Amphitrite in a way it shouldn't. It is a look of too much divinity towards something that cannot bear it, but Amphitrite can bear Calypso's divinity just fine. It is a trick.

"What?" she asks eventually, a bite to her words that would make a mortal faint.

Calypso turns her gaze elsewhere, to the seaweed curled up beside them, curled above in a little bubble as the water outside churns them away somewhere else. She stares at the weaving. "Nothing," she says in a too-friendly, too-simple tone.

Amphitrite narrows her eyes. Calypso has her ways of haggling for everything she wishes, from whoever she wishes it from. She recalls the moment she'd learned how Calypso had earned her tentacle-swarmed form. Calypso has never hungered for something she did not get and that nettles at her.

It was not fair.

"Don't play your games with me," Amphitrite warns. "I do not hold patience for them today."

Calypso lifts a cool shoulder. The move is infuriating. "Alright."

The silence burns.

Nothing should be burning under the water, in the deep cold of the sea. There is not allowed any warmth. Certainly not heat.

Amphitrite's glare burns hotter. "You are playing," she says.

Calypso's gaze slides over. Her body language is all relaxation and distance. She is at ease but there is something in her expression, something churning in her mind. "How so?"

That was the question. Then, the answer comes.

"You are trying to nettle me," she says, feeling the answer is right but not knowing why. What reason could there be for Calypso to want her angry?

"Maybe you shouldn't be so easily nettled, then."

Amphitrite's lip curls at the accusation. "What ill is in you today?" she asks. "You're being sour."

Calypso seems to consider the words, rubbing her lips together, She shrugs. "I am not sure." Her eyes flick over nothing. "A passing mood, I think. I want to stir trouble but it's too dreary a day for mortals to be out."

She snorts delicately. "Right. Warning, next time. I warn you."

Calypso's smile looks empty. There is nothing wrong with its shape but it looks false. "Sure. Apologies for wounding your ego."

"As if."

The smile shifts, looks more real, more like a smile that belongs on Calypso's face. "You may barb me back," she says, "if that would ease the sting of your pride."

Remaining bits of Amphitrite's anger fall away. She laughs and Calypso joins in.

"Shall we travel for a mortal?" Amphitrite offers. She is all too aware of these moods of Calypso's, times where she is reaching for something that does not quite exist. She had murmured the word chaos once, describing it.

With all the things she represents, all she is and the price of it -- Amphitrite does not think it worth it. There is an emptiness to Calypso sometimes, like the bottomless abyss that leads to the Underworld, that only knows to soundlessly call. That wrongness. It must be her price, for being the face of too many things.

In her rare moments of softness, Amphitrite worries over how it will cause her trouble one day.

"No, this is fine."

Fine. Because nothing can please her now.

It's her curse. The burden of being all the ocean is.

Amphitrite is grateful that the burden is not hers. The deep is enough for her, the cold and the creatures. She could not imagine more.

The seaweed begins to part. They both gain a sense of being in a different section of ocean, placed anew by a combination of both their powers ordered to drift them away.

Amphitrite looks over at Calypso. Her eyes are terrifying, sometimes. They look as if they can see through all. Laying secrets to the sun.

"You should take a mortal," she suggests. "I know how highly you think of them, but having one is quite fun."

Calypso's eyes churn. She gazes out at the water. "Mortals bear much misfortune by our hands," she says. "I see no reason one needs to bear the misfortune of me."

Amphitrite sighs. "Ready, then?" One day, she would convince Calypso to get a mortal. She didn't understand Calypso's protection over them. She spoke for them when opportunity drifted by, but when she wears her other shape, she swallows them like a fish. No remorse. No guilt. No regret. How can she advocate for them so and have their blood dripping in her soul?

It was not right. Many things weren't with her. It was why she was so fun.

"Am I ever not?"

Amphitrite grins. "Go, then."

They race, power folded under their skin, to find the place they had started at.

-----

The god fool returns.

Amphitrite does not seek his appearance, but the backsplash of his untethered divinity beating against the water reaches her. She comes not from the boredom, this time, but the fun she knows will be there.

The god -- Poseidon, the ocean hisses at her as she travels, one of Cronus' rebelling children -- is just as entertaining as she remembers.

He thrusts his sad excuse of divinity over top the water, steps his foot into the splash of shore, growls his place like it is something he can demand. "I am Poseidon," he says, putting too much force in each syllable, "god of the sea."

Amphitrite's laugh is a soft thing her domain swallows. How foolish.

"I will," he speaks with bared teeth like a roaring beast, "be king of you."

Her laugh bursts. The waves splash with it.

Poseidon -- the fool king -- pulls his head back like he's insulted and a tantruming child. "I am son of Cronus and Rhea," he tells her, unknowing she is there. "You will obey my will."

Amphitrite rises. "I think it will not," she informs him, lips pulled in an effortless grin. To him, it probably appears smug and demeaning. It's not her fault he's made it so easy to humiliate him. "The ocean listens not to those it does not care to. You're best finding a domain somewhere else, little god."

He glares at her. It should be some degree of terrifying, since he aided in the capture and downfall of the Titans, of Cronus, but he is unclaimed and she is in her home.

His glare is about as scary as a baby jellyfish.

"I will be king of the sea," he says.

She sighs. "We have many monarchs already. What need is there for you to be another?" Her eyes rake over him, judging. "This is not where you belong. Go tie yourself somewhere you fit."

His lips lift into a sneer. "I will take this for my domain whatever I must do."

Amphitrite lifts her brows and starts to sink under. "Your lost time, little god." She goes back to her depths. What impudence in that one. The world would not bend to his wiles just because he ended an era of tyranny. He would have to come across a place to store his divinity somewhere else. The ocean would not bend to him. Others have tried.

None succeeded. Becoming patron of the sea is as easy as being accepted by it. If you are not, you will never be.

Simple as that.

-----

"Fool," she scoffs at a whale, running her hand over its flesh. "Why must all new gods think themselves kings of things already claimed? There are plenty of other things they could tie their divinity to."

The whale echoes a call. Amphitrite rubs it soothingly.

"I know." She flicks her gaze to where the fool had been. "Impudence. May the Primordials never let his name be known."

Her hand flexes.

"It is undeserved."

-----

Poseidon is apparently stubborn, alongside his foolishness. Perhaps when this doesn't pan out, he will be god of screeching fools. It suits him much better than the sea and was unclaimed, waiting for him.

He's also screaming for her.

She crests with impatience, shooting him a look packed with all the cold of her domain. He has the sense (not a complete fool then) to fumble some of his confidence. "I told you the ocean would not be yours," she says, "and yet you returned."

"It must be mine," he replies. His eyes dart to the sky, something uneasy flashing across his face. "There is no choice."

She scoffs. "Hardly. There are a thousand unclaimed things you can leer your power over with hardly any struggle at all."

"I will take the sea or have nothing."

Amphitrite tips her chin up. "Enjoy the emptiness then, little god. Try not to let chaos swallow you. She loves the unclaimed."

"I am not unclaimed," he frowns at her. "I choose the ocean."

"Yet it has not chosen you. Take the rejection and find something else."

His lips part. His teeth are flat and unsuited for the blood of ocean living. "I will be patron of the sea no matter what it takes."

"Find a way for it to take you, then. Be a fool. It's amusing."

He strikes at her with divinity her ocean diverts for her. It has little patience for this imposter and his greed, is fed up with his demands. "I am no fool."

"You're demanding gifts like a petulant child." She looks down her nose at him, haughtily lifts her chin to look elsewhere. "I thought you fought in the war."

His chin flies up, features hardening. "I did."

Her lips curve up. "So where is your power? Tell me, great one, what domain is yours?"

His face flushes. She thinks that if she was on land, he'd tackle her. He's apparently not fool enough to dive in the water for her. Unfortunate. It would have been a fun sight. "What is your domain?" he redirects.

"I am Amphitrite," she tells him. Defeat causes his eyes to darken. He recognizes the name. "I am goddess of the deep and the creatures that dwell there."

"A sea patron," he clarifies, lip thrusted out.

One corner of her lip rises without consent. "Yes."

He wrinkles his nose at her reply, staring petulantly at the sand under his bare feet. He drags the ball of his foot against the sand. "So you mock me," he grumbles. "I am just searching for what you have."

Amphitrite laughs. "I belong to the sea," she says, waves lapping against the deep gills slashed on her throat, curling over her collarbones. She looks like her creatures, like a thing of the ocean. It is of no question that she belongs. It is of every question that he does. "You do not. It is as simple as that."

"That will change."

"And I will enjoy your attempt," she promises.

-----

Calypso frowns at her. "You are encouraging him," she accuses.

"What?" Amphitrite lifts her brows and doesn't let her movement to sit beside Calypso lag with the shock. She settles on the sea floor easily, a jellyfish coming to drift by her shoulder. She wraps one of its stinging tendrils around her finger. "I am doing no such thing."

"You are toying with him like a mortal." Calypso continues on unfettered. Little is capable of doing that, if anything is. Amphitrite has not seen anything that is. "Like you're planning on taking him."

Amphitrite shoots a cold look at the other goddess. What accusations. "It is harmless fun."

"He is a god with power yet unknown. It is not wise to taunt what may yet be stronger than you."

"He is a fool," Amphitrite waves her hand. It will not matter. He is determined to take the sea and he will not. He does not fit and does not have the making to force himself to. He seems bound to be a sea god and she thinks he is foolish enough to try until time's end. He may be a strong god, but unclaimed, she will always be more powerful. Such is how divinity works.

Calypso expels a short breath out her nose. "As are you."

"When are you ever wise?" she bites out, cutting the words into blades with her teeth. "You lurk in parts of the sea not yours. You claim to love the sailors you eat. What wisdom is that?"

"Lack of wisdom does not make me a fool," she replies, unbothered by Amphitrite's harshness. "And I am sea patron just as you are. There is no place not fitting me."

"I am queen of the deep." It is hers by her divinity.

Calypso flicks her gaze over. Her face is composed, unflushed, and she looks bored by the conversation. “You never go that deep. No one does. It borders the land of the dead. Do not try to lay your claim over things you do not want.” Her eyes slide away and her mouth purses with a slight twist. Anger? Disgust? Annoyance? “And where I dwell goes deeper than the deep. It is the abyss and you are not goddess of that.”

“It’s the principle of it.”

Calypso laughs. “As if you care for principle. We are both gods of something already claimed. Let details flutter where they must. They are not worth bickering for.”

Amphitrite clicks her tongue. Her sharp fingers dig into her flesh. “Yet bicker you do.”

“You are the one trying to claim what is not yours.”

Amphitrite’s face pinches. “You are irritating, today.” She pushes up, gliding away. “I do not wish to be in your presence.”

She feels Calypso lay back. “As you wish,” she says. “Do think before you flirt with the god. He is trouble.”

Amphitrite snorts as she calls a stream to carry her away. She was not flirting with the fool. She was toying with him. Laughing at his idiocy. In what domain was that flirting?

She was not looking for a husband. She was content with how things were. And even if she wasn’t — she doesn’t wish to wed a fool.

That would be foolish of her.

-----

“Amphitrite,” he calls her by name. She has felt his presence at shore for hours, but did not rise to tease him. Calypso’s words turn in her mind.

She was not looking to court this god. But did it appear that way? Despite the accusation, Calypso was clever. She had sharp eyes.

She would not speak untruths like that, but her honesty can grate. Who was she, to tell Amphitrite what her claim was? Did their domain blessing her with a second form fill her head over capacity? Amphitrite could make her own choices. She did not need a goddess, friend or not, telling her what her intentions were.

She did not need others telling her what she was.

She crests over the waves with her blood pounding hot in her veins. It makes her heart glow, a ruddy red that pierces through her translucent skin, pulsing with the beat of her heart. “Fool,” she spits out.

Poseidon lifts his brows. Something like concern passes over his face. It vanishes just as fast. “I require assistance,” he says. It looks like the words are difficult to say. They should be.

She barks a laugh. He flinches at the sound, like she’d flung a spear of divinity at his head. She throws her head back. She pulls in a breath with a grin that stretches her cheeks. “How does your pride taste?” she asks.

She’s being cruel, she knows, but Calypso thinks she was flirting. She thinks that there was enjoyment here. She wants to control Amphitrite? To tell her the reason she is doing things?

Let her see that she’s wrong. Let her see how her pride tastes when she takes it in her teeth and swallows it whole. Let her realize that sharp eyes and a clever head did not make her all-knowing.

The fool widens his stance, squares his shoulders in a vain attempt to look powerful. His divinity is but a babe in his chest, young and fluttering. “What?”

“You’re eating your pride.” She tilts her head. “Not all of it, apparently, but some. I asked how it tasted.”

“You—” he stabs a finger at her face. “You are rude.”

She chuckles, subdued. “And? What reason is there to be kind?” She rises to her feet and steps closer to the god, the ocean still thinly under her feet, tugging at her ankles. She tilts her head and looks up at him. “You are not anything to fear, little god. Not as you are now.” She steps closer.

The water bids her return. She ignores it. She is not flirting. She is not making an enemy, she is making a point.

Let Calypso see this.

“Anyways, you called me here. It is a blessing that I answered. Are you willing to let rudeness send me back without getting what you were hoping for, whatever it is?”

“No.” His hand makes to reach for her but freezes. His fingers twitch. He lowers his arm. “I— forgive me,” he grits, jaw tight with tension. Is he angry with her? Good.

She hums, not denying or accepting the apology. “What did you call me for?”

“Assistance.”

Amphitrite scoffs. “Of course. You have already said. What assistance do you seek?”

“I,” he takes a breath, “I wish to know how I could become a god of the sea.”

She stares at him, waiting for the joke, the laugh.

It does not come. Right. He is not like Calypso with her sharp humor that is often not humorous at all. He is being serious.

Truly, how did he expect to be a god worth fearing if he has to ask how to gain power?

She sighs, pressing the tips of cold nails to her cheek. “I’ve already told you.” She bends her fingers and presses the bend of them to her cheek. “The ocean must take you in turn. It is not a decision yours alone.”

“How do I… get it to take me, then?”

She considers his question.

“Please it or find a patron to take you instead. It will work as well as the domain taking you itself.”

His eyes spark and his hand lifts again.

“No.” She steps back in the surf. The water rushes in around her. “It takes much strength to take another god and farm their divinity. I have no reason to take that burden for you. Find another.”

“You are the only one I have met,” he explains, an undercurrent chopping his words too close together.

One corner of her lip pulls to the side. “Meet another, then. I will not do your dirty work for you.”

His eyes flash up at the sky as a boom rattles through the air. “I do not have time for that,” he tells her gently, eyes flicking between gray clouds and rust-green eyes.

She looks at the sky and shrugs. A storm. Why does that make him flinch? “That is not my bother.”

She turns on her heel. The ocean welcomes her back, tugging her close. It splashes Poseidon’s feet when he takes two strides after her. His fingers brush her shoulder. “What price would it take?”

Amphitrite rolls her shoulder out of his reach. “Pardon?”

“For you to take me.” She turns to look at him. “What price would you accept?”

She purses her lips. “We would have to wed,” she warns. “We would bound unlike any other.”

His breath shakes. The set of his brow stiffens. “What would it take?” he repeats.

Amphitrite taps her fingers against her mouth. He is desperate enough for this? To bind himself to her for the rest of eternity? “It will not be able to be undone,” she says. “And I do not see you with anything worth paying that price.”

He looks at her, beseeching. “There is no time.”

“So you have said.” What a broken record he was. No time, he must be a sea patron. On and on. Why did she think him entertaining?

Because he humiliated himself and seemed blind to it? It was amusing to watch, at first, before he dredged her in, trying to make a prisoner of a settled goddess. For her to take him in a way that gives him hold over the sea, her own weakens. She loses while he gains.

What could he have to make that trade — that loss — worth it? She did not like him as a god or a man. She liked her domain and her creatures.

It was not worth it, to humor him and his fear.

He drops to his knees. The damp sand caves under the blow. He lowers his head to her. “Please,” he asks. “I will do whatever you require. Anything you ask. I need to be made king of the sea.”

Amphitrite settles, folding her legs beneath her. The water surges and recedes around her collarbone. She takes in a considering breath. He was a son of Cronus, a brother of Zeus. There were tales that they were building a place for gods and something like that would surely be quite powerful. If she aids in his endeavor to be the sea’s face there, perhaps she will be face, too. It could not hurt to have an ally among a leader god, a— what did Calypso tell her that one time? A throned god? There were to be twelve, she thinks and they were to be honored by mortals as no god has before. “Convince me.” She tilts her head and weighs his every twitch in her mind.

Desperate gods are not all that different from desperate mortals. Not if the god is a fool, which this one has proven to be.

He will sacrifice more than he is comfortable to pay if she makes him squirm enough. He will offer enough that the deal goes in her favor.

Amphitrite has always been good at making others uncomfortable.

-----

Calypso’s divinity is an easy thing to bear, when they are in the deep, where Amphitrite is most powerful. When they are closer to shore, it twinges something in her. It makes itself a burden difficult to shake.

Calypso’s fury is a tame thing. Her acts of wrath are not sunken ships and slain sailors. Those are calculated, are not done on whim, is not something she does out of anger.

The only thing her anger does is temper her words into silver blades. She is most eloquent when she is furious.

“You are a fool to be told,” she says, dismissing greeting. The cold bite in her voice sinks into Amphitrite’s chest. Her eyes — do not look furious. She does not look angry at all. Not like Amphitrite expected when she settled her deal with the Olympian and took back to her water.

She looks sad.

The cold thing Calypso placed in her chest pulses. “What do you mean?” She lifts her chin, trying to look unaffected. She does not want to have this conversation so close to the surface, where Calypso’s divinity slips in through her gills as easily as water.

It is too distracting. Too— too easy to succumb to, especially if it with sadness that Calypso confronts her and not anger.

“You struck a deal with the Olympian.” Her eyes drift lower, focused on the joint of her collarbone, the little divot where Calypso’s divinity always rests. “It was not a wise deal to strike.”

Amphitrite waves off the words with a scoff. “However do you mean? I know how to bargain things in my favor.”

Calypso purses her lips out. Her eyes lift. They are sadder, now, and Amphitrite glares to keep them from pulling her in. Calypso’s reasoning was always wise but not always wisest. There were other perspectives that occasionally offered wiser things. This was one of those times. Calypso did not know the deal she struck. How could she? Amphitrite shielded both of their words from sinking in the water and Calypso was not near enough to wriggle around it. “Do you.”

She does not say it like a question.

“Yes,” she affirms anyways, her eyes reshaping into a frosty glare.

Calypso’s brow lifts. “Right.” Her eyes sink towards the ocean floor.

Amphitrite propels herself back. She speaks with a lifted lip. “Do not patronize me,” she warns. “I know what I’ve done.”

Their eyes reconnect. Calypso’s gaze is like an anchor, dragging her down. “I doubt that,” she whispers. “I really do.”

“You don’t know,” Amphitrite says, a steep edge to her words. She doesn’t know. She can’t. But that gaze, that sadness — she clearly thinks she knows something. But what?

“For your sake, I hope I don’t.” She bows her head and does nothing as Amphitrite pushes herself forwards and sinks back to her domain. The water pulses with Calypso’s sorrow. It coats Amphitrite’s teeth until the cold of the deep freezes it out and even then, it lingers.

-----

“You are a fool to be told.”

“You struck a deal with the Olympian.”

“It was not a wise deal to strike.”

Calypso’s words have bad habit of festering in Amphitrite’s mind. She tries to brush them off, to leave them to float at the surface, but they sink right alongside her, anchored with steel to her throat. It is a chained collar of worry.

“Do you.”

“I doubt that.”

Patronization that is actually worry. Amphitrite has never known Calypso to needlessly worry.

The words she speaks are always anchored with truth. Weight. Her words never float because there is reason behind each syllable.

Her nails dig into her palms, seeping the water in divinity that will only be hers alone for precious little time. Was Calypso right to be concerned?

An eel skims over her shoulder, curling around to brush against her arm. Amphitrite strokes it with the hand not bloodied in divinity. “What do you think?” she asks. She lifts her other palm and stares at the dull gold. “Was it a mistake?”

The eel swims away.

Amphitrite’s ankle twitches. “What help,” she says. She closes her fingers over her palms, shoulder jolting with the pressure.

What help indeed. What mistake did Calypso see in the deal she made? What flaw was she being blind to?

The dark curls around her. The deep embraces her in its chill and its emptiness. No matter how poor a deal she made, it will still be here whenever she needs it. Her domain will not disappear because she’s abandoning it. It will not abandon her in equal turn.

That is not what it wishes to do.

It chose Amphitrite as a queen and it has little choice but to respect her decisions. If she wishes to deal herself to an Olympian, to bend herself in the way that bends her domain — then it has little option but to obey. Their queen has commanded.

It may be her last order.

-----

"Little king," Amphitrite greets, tilting her chin.

Poseidon’s eyes glint. He looks pleased in a way that worries her, now. Before, she had thought it was just satisfaction at getting what he had spent sun-turns cajoling for.

Had he played her? Had she stepped into his trap? Was he wise enough to set one?

Was she foolish enough to fall for it?

The concern must be showing on her face, because Poseidon’s mouth twists into a grin. Easy and proud, like a king’s.

She was making him king.

He was getting everything he’d asked for. What was he sacrificing to her, to even the field? A few promises a wise man could eventually wriggle his way out from? Some words that could be torn apart?

Words unsworn on the Styx?

Her chin dips as she swallows. Her eyes do not leave her future spouse. The companion she’s going to swear her future and her divinity to.

Calypso had her reason to worry, did she not?

No. Yes.

Poseidon may not be the fool she thought. That much is becoming true. But she is no less wise. The deal may be skewed, but it is not one-sided. It is not unfair.

Amphitrite would never swear herself to anything that could be turned upon her. She does not make a habit of underestimating an enemy enough that she bares her belly to them, that she leaves herself entirely at their mercy.

Poseidon thought her a fool, and struck his bargain on that option. Amphitrite thought him a fool, and struck a deal that could work even if he turned out to be wise.

She does not nest all of her creatures in the same section of sea.

-----

It is not painful.

It feels like it should be. Ripping one’s divinity from their blood should be an excruciating thing. But it is painless.

Her divinity slips from her body like her blood had earlier, when she cut her palm in her heightened emotional state.

It is simple, in other words. So very simple.

Her creatures lurk around them both in the ceremony, netted above them like an elaborate trap. As if either of them could decide to switch their mind now.

Deals have been made. Divinity should not turn back on their blatant word.

“Careful with your words, little god,” she warns, tilting her head as she examines him. He is nice looking, she supposes, though she doesn’t think him nice enough to warrant wedding him. But there are worse looking things she could tie herself to.

As if that was consolation, but it was nice. Her heirs, at least, would have chances to become more.

He lifts his chin at her before tucking it back into place. He is taller, technically, though Amphitrite keeps her feet off the floor so their eyes are level. The sea feels far more frigid than usual.

Is it her domain, mourning what she used to be? Is it mourning her choice to make this god it so obviously rejected its king?

Is it her almost-wedded, already controlling what is all around him?

No. Her domain would not grant him his gifts until it was due.

The vows, too, feel as if they should stick in her throat or come out bubbling in electrified acid. But they, too, are easy. They slip out like the fine silk donning them both, silks dyed matching shades of blue.

The color suits her well. It offsets her hair. It does not suit him. It is not ill-suiting, but it does not suit him as well as the color of the domain he’s to control should. The color should, when worn, appear as if it is the only color that would do him justice. It should be the only thing that fits the divinity humming under his skin.

On him, it is just a color.

A nice color and nothing more.

It was not what it should be. He was a false king. His divinity was not made to churn the tides and her domain was not made to crash under his order. She was not made to be bound like this and he was not made to be bound to her.

After, when her divinity is raw in her chest, glowing heart pulsing weakly behind glass ribs, she takes his hand. “I hope you find this worth it,” she says, looking at him through her lashes.

He squeezes her hand and pulls his back. “Of course it was,” he replies.

She wonders if he can feel the strings wrapped around his joints. If he can feel the pull over him she has knotted in his chest. He made her swear to him the rights of her divinity, the capability of making ocean obey his command.

She made him swear his devotion to her will.

Can he feel that? Does he know the depth of that vow? That they were more than words and that as her divinity is bound to him, his is bound to her similarly?

It was, as Calypso said, an unfair deal. But it was unfair for them both. Painful like stabs and broken bone. Like horse and cow. Weak comparability.

They were both losers. That was unquestionable.

It was silly of Calypso, though, to think that Amphitrite did not know what she was doing.

She was no stranger to making deals.

-----

“So it is done.” Calypso is lying on the floor, observing the sharp points of nails she isn’t bothering to blunt. She doesn’t like to bother with shedding all the features of the predator she is, especially right after she’s taken a ship to sate her appetite.

Amphitrite never bothers to look mortal. It is not the form that is natural, like it is (more or less) for most of the divine. She is queen of the sea and she looks the part. She is of the sea and one could tell at a glance. “Yes,” she replies, digging up sand with her fingers.

Hers are sharper, technically, as Calypso’s aren’t really nails. They’re more akin to the suckers that line her arms when she is Kraken, just lengthened and enlarged to fit the rough anatomy of human fingers. If she gets them in something, there is no getting them out.

They are dangerous in a different way.

“Have the effects settled yet?” Calypso lifts her chin and the movement allows Amphitrite to see the thick bob of a swallow. As if she was uncertain. Concerned.

Amphitrite thought they were done with that. The deal is done. Calypso does not know better.

“What effects?” she asks, though her bones throb with the fragility of her lessened divinity. She’s been weak, since she wed the fool king, but it is strengthening slowly. She will be back to normal. It may take some decades to be back completely, but that is nothing to her.

Calypso’s breath bubbles up. “Of gifting away your divinity.” She tilts her head and slides her gaze over. “How fares your hold on your domain?”

“It is fine,” Amphitrite defends instantly. She pauses. Is it? Usually, she is approached and surrounded by the wildlife she rules over but that has been absent. It is an effect of her weak divinity. When that is back, so will they.

The sailor goddess hums, noncommittal. “I would be wary of each irregularity.”

“There has been none.”

Calypso’s eyes roam the empty water around them. It looks casual enough, but this is Calypso. She is making a show of looking, turning her head when there is no need. “Right,” she says. “Still. Do not say I did not try to warn you of the danger you enrolled for.”

“It was not dangerous.”

That, Calypso does not answer.

-----

Poseidon is building them a castle. He is insisting upon it. “What kind of rulers would we be,” he says, his hands clasped around her arms too tightly, “if we did not have a throne?”

Amphitrite pries her way out of his grip. “No rulers at all,” she replies. She looks at the construction, at the rising architecture of gems and coral. It is a beautiful thing, already, not even half built, but she is beginning to be aware of the dangers Calypso spoke of.

Her divinity is tied to her husband and he is, in turn, binding it to this castle. To the throne that will be hers. He has not admitted as such, but her divinity hums in the desire, the attempt. She would point it out, would fight, but there is little point to. She cannot undo what is done. She will have to live with her vow and attempt to find some other way out.

“It is beautiful,” she tells him, because he wants to hear it and it will do no harm to be on his good side.

He beams, watching the construction with pride. “Is it not?”

No, her domain whispers in her ear, monotone and sad at once. It does not have emotion like the living, but she can feel its mourning all the same. When it had accepted her as a patron, it was not for this. It is not.

Her domain sympathizes, in the only way it can. It does not offer help. It could, she believes, shatter their deal if it wished, but. The ocean takes after its namesake. Oceanus does not care for what happens in his home and body and neither does the ocean. They are, in fact, one in the same.

Amphitrite holds her eyes shut a moment. “You can go to Olympus,” she tells him.

His head whips over, a fight brimming on his tongue.

“That construction is more important for you to oversee. I can handle this.”

He squints.

She laughs, tilting her head mischievously. “Do you not trust me, husband dear?”

His mouth parts and he bites the words back with a click. “No,” he says. But, all the same, he turns to join his brothers in the making of a place for gods.

She smiles at his retreat. It looks like silver.

The new husband is so hungry for recognition, he’ll want to spend his days on the throne that matters. There was no glory in being a sea king, if you were searching for masses of mortal worship. The ocean would not provide that.

So she had the mercy of knowing he would not be a constant fixture at her side. She could pretend everything was sparkling, in his absence. That her throne was hers alone.

Despite the horror it took to get it — she’s liking the idea of a palace. Of a throne. Of the comfort of knowing her place in mortal’s mind is secure. She can lounge, now, and still be remembered just the same.

Tension leaks from her shoulders.

She thinks she could learn to like this. She did, after all, gain more than she gave.

What was a little divinity, in the end, for a palace and memory steadfast?

-----

Calypso is… displeased is the kind way to put it but neither of them are kind. She is appalled in a wrathful, furious way. That still feels too kind. Calypso feels more Kraken than goddess.

“Pardon?” she asks, sharp teeth snapping around the word.

“You heard me,” Amphitrite says, leaning back against a wall of her new palace, rubies studded around her in a bloody halo. “Do not feign deafness.”

Calypso laughs. There’s a wildness in the gesture, a feral sort of energy to it that raises Amphitrite’s guard. “I must be going so,” she says. “Because surely I did not hear you right.”

“You did,” Amphitrite confirms.

Calypso looks at her like. Like she’d just admitted to relinquish her divinity for a mortal child. Like the very idea is too wild even for them. “What ill poisoned your mind?” she asks. Her arms gesture around to the glimmering castle. “This was not worth the price. It is a thing. You could have done this yourself if you wished.”

Amphitrite watches the outburst languidly. She has never seen Calypso so active. Even when they are racing and she is enjoying herself, there is a relaxed sort of grace to her movements, a backing of calm that permeates through anything else. Even when she is worked up, there is still sense about her. Amphitrite cannot find any now. “You wouldn’t understand. Not with your mind pried shut.”

“He fooled you.”

“He did no such thing. I am aware of the deal I made.”

Calypso scoffs. “Then you are the foolish one. You may not understand the gravity yet, but this choice will grow to haunt you.”

“Sure it will.” Amphitrite looks down her nose. “I fail, though, for the record, to see how this,” she wiggles her fingers outward, gesturing to the palace, “could ever be something I’d regret.”

Calypso’s mouth parts. She bites her words back with a tense jaw. “I suppose we will just see then,” she says, voice back to its typical distanced tone.

Amphitrite nods. “We will.”

Calypso nods back. She does not look pleased, still and that is not entirely a surprise. She is so rarely pleased, when things do not go the way she thinks is best. But she is not entirely displeased, either, which is an accomplishment alone, even if a miniscule one. She eyes the walls of coral and gems, mouth twisting down as she takes in the opulence of it.

It is about the reaction Amphitrite expected. Calypso’s tastes are simple and this is anything except. But that was fine. The palace was not for Calypso nor would she reside there. So it did not matter if she liked it. It was to Amphitrite’s taste and it was to be home.

A place easy to pin. There were perks to having a place to settle and Amphitrite fully intends to take advantage of them. Having mortals on hand was one. She’d always wanted to keep one long term. Her chance for that had come.

Calypso’s eyes drift back to Amphitrite. There is something in her gaze that tries to tug at Amphitrite’s divinity. It has weight that Amphitrite has never felt, not when she is this deep, in the heart of her domain. She swallows it down.

“So we will,” Calypso repeats.

Amphitrite knows she is right. This castle is to be a kind of prison for them both, her and her new husband. There was no worry in that. Calypso did not know details and she was assuming the worst. It was a sweet thought. Her fault for not believing in Amphitrite’s cruelness, however. She knew how to deal herself sweetness from a bitter fool.

Still, to be a good sport, she nods.

Time will prove one of them wrong.

*****

This is still all drippingmoon's fault. Hope you liked what I created.

Tags: @caffeinewitchcraft @super-writer-gal @drippingmoon @blindthewind @notwritinganyflufftoday @mel-writes-with-her-dragons

#writeblr #writblr #creative writing #writing #greek myth retellings #greek mythology #amphitrite #poseidon #calypso #nikkywritesstories #my writing #wip ocean's heart #wip oceans heart #this is such a bare bones way to tell the story and i am undecided on if thats a good or bad thing #i could totally go into this more though #so if you want more. send asks? ill rant happily #i think its the tone i find off though. its a little different from how i usually write. probably why i have mixed feelings on this #or i hope thats why at least

19 notes · View notes

sserpente · 5 years ago

Photo

A/N: Requests from @bi-readytobakepie-cry-and-die, @walkinoxymoron, @mysticalflowerroadprune, @thenocturnalsyren and two anons. I have an order here, chips with extra fluff? Anyone? You asked for fluff, you’re getting fluff—and the chips, too. 🍟

Words: 2975 Warnings: pure fluff, sleep paralysis

You spun around when your attacker lunged, acting surprised. He had you cornered, with no way to run—or so he thought. It was a devilish smirk that curled your lips upwards when he aimed to stab the thin air surrounding your illusion as it disappeared right before his eyes. He screamed, anger and frustration getting the better of him. It was his last mistake before you pierced his head with an arrow. You used a small crossbow attached to your right wrist to shoot your enemies, usually refrained from fighting up close. You were simply not the type. Besides, you hated the feeling of blood that was not your own on your skin.

You had been hunting these people all the way to New York now. Cleopatra would be truly proud of you. But those artefacts were not only of personal value for you and your heritage but also extremely dangerous which in the wrong hands could cause a lot of damage—and the most selfish part of you, so you knew, wanted to keep them all to yourself.

There was only one of them left now and quite apparently, you had received some unknown help. You were not the only one hunting the man who was quite likely aiming to have Assassin’s Creed come to life as he climbed over every rock and piece of debris he could find to get away. Although you were grateful for their aid, you couldn’t help but wonder what it was they wanted from him.

Stopping dead in your tracks when he came to a sudden halt, you moved behind a metal barrel and observed how a woman with ginger hair and a black suit fired three shots. Not a single one missed its target. Dead. The spook was finally over. Now all you still needed was that contract hidden in one of his pockets.

“Hey, there’s another one!” The mechanical voice was coming from above you when you emerged from your hiding spot and attempted to approach the corpse. Looking up to find a man wearing a red and gold suit, you barely had the time to spin back around when another man on their team—short hair, with a bow and arrow as his weapon of choice—unceremoniously aimed at you.

“No, stop!” Your eyes widened, reflexes kicking in. You felt the familiar tingling in your body whenever you teleported, leaving an illusion behind and letting the archer’s arrow hurtling through the empty spot you had stood in less than a second ago. Rude… “I believe we are on the same side.” They jumped when you reappeared behind them.

You struggled to remember their names, purpose and story. The woman with the red hair was called Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow for short. Former assassin, she now worked with this secret organisation called SHIELD. There was Tony Stark—billionaire and Iron Man and Steve Rogers aka Captain America who spent seventy years frozen in the sea. The man who had almost killed you had you not been supernaturally gifted was called Clint Barton and sometimes Hawkeye. You were familiar with Thor of course. How could you not be? You had grown up reading about gods and goddesses… being one yourself.

“The question is… who are you?” Tony Stark had removed his suit by now and revealed an average-sized man.

“My name is (Y/N)—not a fancy superhero name, I know.”

“And you practice magic,” Thor tossed in with crossed arms.

“Magic? No. I cast illusions. My father was human, like most of you. My mother on the other end… are you familiar with the tale of Persephone and Hades?”

Tony Stark raised an eyebrow. “You’re telling me you’re a Greek goddess?”

“Half-goddess. I prefer the term hybrid.” You usually wore contacts to hide your true eye colour. It was much more saturated than others.

Alarmed, you turned when someone else entered the room. They had taken your crossbow from you just to be sure but to be fair, you could bring it back into your possession in the twinkling of an eye.

“Where have you been, Reindeer Games? We could have needed you out there.”

“Urgent matters.” A smooth, mysterious and dark voice stated simply—mockingly almost. While you sincerely doubted that his name really was Reindeer Games, for some peculiar reason you were dying to learn who he was. Raven hair, blue eyes and those sharp cheekbones… his clothing looked Asgardian, too. He was definitely not human. Neither were you, depending on how you looked at it.

Electricity rippled through you when your eyes met. The strange Asgardian made no move, whatsoever though, to introduce himself.

“You will be…?” You asked with a polite smile.

Natasha frowned suspiciously. “He is…”

“Loki,” he interrupted her hurriedly, dashing you a smile as he did. “Thor’s brother, I am afraid to say.” You laughed when the God of Thunder shot him a playfully hurt glance.

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

“She lived on the moon, didn’t she?” Clint murmured.

Tony pursed his lips. “Where did you come from?”

“Egypt. I spent the last six years in Egypt.”

“Right… and what is a Greek goddess doing in Egypt?”

“Half-goddess—and I told I don’t like being called that. I was working with archaeologists and securing sacred artefacts. You know… objects like the box of Pandora.” You winked at him.

The Avengers, so they called themselves, exchanged puzzled looks—almost as if they were in on a secret you were yet to learn about.

“I see. You best stay away from… well. (Y/N), Loki is…” Clint started.

“…determined to show you around.” The God of Mischief interrupted him sharply, directing all of his attention to you. “What is it you can do then?”

“I cast illusions.”

You smirked when his eyebrows rose in an impressed manner and he offered you his arm to make you decide in that moment that you liked him.

By now, around three months had passed since you more or less joined the Avengers. They had helped you return the artefacts to Egypt and Loki… Loki and you had found yourselves spending a lot of time together and getting to know one another. He was wonderful. Intelligent, witty, mischievous and thoughtful and even quite introverted when it came to talking about his inner thoughts and feelings. There was something he was not telling you though—something that Thor too was making the Avengers keep silent about.

Whatever it was… perhaps one day, he would be ready to tell you. You were not going to pressure him into anything. You had your own skeletons in your closet—which was why you were beginning to fall in love with him—and the reason your heart almost leaped out of your chest when Steve and Thor returned without him from one of their latest missions which had entailed the words venom, dwarves and drinking water.

You had been against them wandering off on their own and without any backup, especially if something otherworldly was involved. Thor was quite megalomaniac, so you had figured. His ‘that’s what heroes do’ attitude made you want to slap him every now and then. Loki never considered himself as a hero and for some peculiar reason the Avengers never bothered to treat him as such either.

“Where is Loki?!”

They were bruised, injured and covered in blood. You did not even want to imagine what they must have dealt with. The book you had been reading flew over the sofa as you hurried to confront them.

Thor shook his head. He was still out of breath.

“We don’t know,” Steve answered you instead. “He disappeared shortly before the explosion. He might still have been in the building.”

“The explosion?!” You shrieked. “Well, why didn’t you look for him?”

“The dwarves were still there.” Dwarves. If only they were harmless. They certainly looked the part—right until they tried to scratch your eyes out with their tiny and venomous claws.

“Okay, you two, into my lab. Bruce just got back from England concerning the venom, (Y/N), you calm down. Loki goes to ground all the time.”

“Why are you all acting like he does not matter? What is wrong with you, Stark?”

“What’s wrong? He is a fucking crim—“

“Stark!” Thor roared. Indignantly, you shook your head as they hurried out of the room. “Don’t worry too much about him, (Y/N)!” You heard him yell to you. “You don’t know Loki like I do!”

This was starting to get ridiculous. But you had no time to ponder over this—you were way too worried for him, right until something crashed into the living room and broke the glass table in front of the sofa. No, not something. Someone.

“Loki!” Thank the stars. He must have teleported himself out of there. He was covered in dirt and dust, a laceration on his forehead. His blue eyes met yours for only a brief second before the adrenaline in his body died down and he fell unconscious.

The venom. Loki was an Asgardian god. If the dwarves’ venom affected him so strongly… he was sweating, too. With all your strength, you heaved him on the sofa and slid a cushion under his head. None of the other Avengers would be back anytime soon anyway.

You left for only a brief moment, returning with a wet cloth to cool his skin and clean his wound. There was nothing else you could do for him except for watching over him to make sure he healed.

“Loki… get well soon, my king.” He had told you about his desire to claim the throne, to be the first choice for once. He certainly was your king. “Get well soon so I can kiss you.”

Smiling, you gripped his hand tighter, leaning against the sofa. You had always slept like this back in Egypt. You had worked with a young archaeologist only a few years younger than yourself. Your sleep paralysis—something you had not even told Loki about just yet made it hard to restfully slumber at night. She on the other hand had had nyctophobia—fear of the dark. It had been hard to leave her behind, knowing she had become something like a sister. Since then, sleep had rarely come to you… until you had met Loki and now knew you could always spend the entire night talking to him instead.

Holding his hand now and feeling his warmth and his presence filled you with joy. Before you even knew it, you had fallen asleep next to him, kneeling on the ground. Unbeknownst to you, however, the God of Mischief had still been awake the entire time and heard every single word you had said. Kiss me? He thought—the last one before he slid back into unconsciousness.

When he woke again, you were still there, holding his hand. He smiled. It was nice, knowing that somebody cared for him. It made the pain the venom caused as it cursed through his veins a lot more bearable. Tomorrow, he figured, he would be over the worst. And then his smile suddenly disappeared. She only cares for you because she doesn’t know what you’ve done, a scornful voice in his mind whispered.

Loki clenched his fists. He rolled his eyes when he discovered Thor sneakily peeking into the room.

“What happened?” He croaked. It was an unnecessary question, really. He knew what had happened. He was just too weak to nag ‘What do you want’.

“She fell asleep over three hours ago, Loki. I tried to wake her but she refuses to leave your side.”

Loki looked him directly in the eye, his heart skipping a beat. She refuses to leave your side. “Why have you been so keen on keeping a secret from her what I did in New York?” He asked, taking his chance now that they were alone. For once, there was honest curiosity in his voice.

Thor hesitated. Then, he shrugged. “Because you were.” It was all he replied. He understood then. Just this one time, his brainless brother understood why it was so important to him to keep from you what had made him, in the Avengers’ eyes, a villain. He just wondered for how much longer he could keep up the act.

With a gentle smile, Thor turned to leave the room. “I knew you would make it out.” He added before he disappeared. Loki rolled his eyes yet again, albeit amused.

Perhaps it was wrong. He would never find peace living in constant fear that you would find out on your own and hate him like all the other Avengers did. He took a deep breath when you opened your eyes—and for the first time in a long while, he was at loss for words. What should he first say to you? Should he thank you? Ask if you had had pleasant dreams?

“Good morning, my dear.” He eventually opted; to his utter shock, however, your eyes widened. You did not move, not a single inch and yet, your eyes proved you were awake. Did you already know? Had he scared you somehow, or done something in his half-unconscious state?

Anytime now they would appear—those pitch black monsters with the long claws and the terrifying red glowing eyes. You had seen them in a film as a child and ever since then, they had become the personification of your fear. Rejection, repulsion, hatred, loneliness… they all meant to grab you. Falling asleep, you had been holding Loki’s hand, so why had your sleep paralysis returned?

The sorrow, you answered yourself. You were worrying for Loki when you fell asleep. Was he still here with you, on the sofa? You could not see him. Instead, over the backrest, crawled the first monster. It stared at you darkly, making your eyes widen in fear and then, out of the blue, another one reached for you from behind, beginning to shake you. Shake you? That was new. They usually never managed to actually touch you, you always brought yourself to wake up in time.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N), are you alright?” Loki. Blinking frantically, you fought hard to move your limbs, to tense and relax your muscles repeatedly to fully wake up. When you finally did, you were met with a very concerned Loki. “What is happening to you? You started screaming at me.”

“I did? I’m sorry…” One deep breath, then two, then three. “I was… nightmare. Never mind. Are you feeling better?”

“A nightmare? That did not look like a simple nightmare.” Loki knew what nightmares looked like. He had them all the time, after all.

“Maybe not. But I don’t want to burden you with that. You seem to be having your own problems.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He spat, sitting up and putting his feet on the ground fast.

“Loki, there is obviously something you are trying to keep a secret from me.”

“So you mistrust me?” He responded with a quiet voice.

“I don’t mistrust you,” you insisted, cupping his cheek. “I just feel like there is something you are not ready to tell me about yet and until then… it would be unfair to rant about my problems instead.”

Loki looked up. Regret was sparkling in his blue eyes—regret along with remorse. You do not even deserve her, the voice whispered.

“I am a criminal.” He suddenly said, the word murderer not quite leaving his lips.

“What? What are you saying?”

“A little over five years ago, I invaded this planet in an attempt to rule it. I was blinded by a promise which could never be held and betrayed not only Thor but also myself.”

“You did… what?” Your lips parted. I invaded this planet.

“It matters not. Thanos is dead now.”

“Thanos? Thanos made you do this?”

“No,” he snapped. “The sceptre, it… I killed many innocent people, (Y/N). It was only a small price to pay for the recognition I sought.” He looked you dead in the eye. “I regret making these sacrifices but at the same time… I do not.” He was torn. You could feel it burning in his stunning eyes.

“Why did you never tell me that?”

Loki scoffed scornfully. “I assumed you would despise me like everyone else if you knew. I took lives, (Y/N). I took lives for my own gain. I am not a hero, I never will be.” And he did not want to be, so you figured. You did not despise him. Quite on the contrary… you were only falling for him more and more. The pain that Thanos had inflicted on him still sat deep. He blamed himself, assuming it was no one else but him who deserved to be called evil and a villain.

Actions might comfort him more than your words could now. So you leaned in, placing your palms on his thighs for balance and tenderly pressed your lips against his. If anything, the God of Mischief was taken aback, still, the moment you joined for a hesitant kiss, his eyes fell shut. With a sigh, he cupped your face and pulled you closer, his tongue asking for entrance almost timidly. For now, explaining to him what sleep paralysis was and how it tormented you at night could wait.

“I don’t hate you,” you breathed out once you parted again, desperate for oxygen. Your lips were swollen—his were too, a little. “I think I am falling for you, Loki Odinson.”

His expression was hopeful, vulnerable even—so unlike his usual cool and confident demeanour. His smile, honest and raw, was contagious.

“I heard you,” he admitted. “I heard you promising to kiss me once I woke up.”

Biting back a joyful laugh, you kissed him once more.

A/N: If you enjoyed this story I would appreciate it so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

453 notes · View notes

thenightgazer · 4 years ago

Text

Mask of Rapture

When she received an invitation to play at a masquerade party on an infamous cruise ship, Maureen has an unfathomable hunch that something wrong will happen. Between her enchanting violin performance and the glamorous waltz, she encounters a mysterious masked man whom will introduce her to the horror that waits for all the passengers... and a promising passionate night with the devil himself.

Pairing : Vergil x Female Violinist OC/Female Reader

Rating : Explicit

Warning : Rough sex, SDT sex, mild blood, mild gore, blood kink, light dom/sub, exhibitionism, porn with plot

Keep reading or read it on AO3

Lady Midnight is an infamous luxurious cruise ship that sails from Red Grave to Europe continent for five days weekly. It’s known by its exquisite interiors and six-star service, as well as excellent cuisine and impeccable suites. Lady Midnight provides the best and elegant experience of travel curated to satiate the wanderlust of adventurists. The cruise ship is also known to hold a sophisticated dance party in the form of a masquerade party on the night before they reach back to Red Grave. All guests will be dressed up and gathered in the ballroom decorated with classic and stunning architecture, waltzing on the dancefloor until midnight.

Maureen won’t be here if it wasn’t because of the invitation from the owner of the ship. She received an invitation email and a request to be the guest violinist for the masquerade party in exchange for free vacation on Lady Midnight for five days. She’s no stranger for any invitation from wealthy people to play at their prosperous party, but this is her first time to be invited to a masquerade party. She had prepared a dress and the suitable songs to set the mood and perfect atmosphere for a masquerade ball weeks before departure.

After days floating on the ocean and discovering breathtaking yachting destinations, finally the big day is coming.

Maureen has performed countless times on stage, yet she still feels the nauseous gut whenever it comes about public appearance. But somehow, the psychosomatic feeling doesn’t really bother her right now. Maybe it’s because everyone will wear a mask, so she can avoid their curious and prying eyes on her. She’ll have more concentration to do her job. Just one or two hours playing, she reminds herself. Then I’ll enjoy Europe before the ship takes me back to Red Grave.

Maureen folds her hands on her chest as she observes a white long sleeve maxi cape dress, a pair of heels and a matching colombina mask on the bed. She was thinking of buying some fancier gown, but she finally decided to buy something comfortable to wear because she needs full concentration for the concert rather than paying extra attention to her clothing. Don’t have time to add exaggerated accessories and worry about whether it would look fine on me or not.

Satisfied with her choice of clothes, Maureen sits in front of the vanity table and begins to put some makeup on her face. She doesn’t put too much since she’s going to wear a mask anyway, so she emphasizes her full lips with mauve lipstick. Then she covers her body with the dress—its front thigh-high slit lifts her confidence. She straps the heels on her feet and puts the mask on to cover half of her face. Not bad, she watches herself in satisfaction while combing her black hair.

The party will begin approximately in half an hour. Maureen has received an announcement that there will be a briefing before the party starts and all the crew will be gathered. While she’s not part of the crew, she’s still expected to attend as a guest star and part of the orchestra team. She wastes no time anymore and takes her violin case, heading to the ballroom.

Maureen senses something wrong since the first time she stepped on the stage.

She opens her violin case, observing the enticing violin and waits until the patrons of Lady Midnight—Lord and Lady Campbell arrive at the middle of the ball. The wife’s patron is smiling brightly as her husband bows down to ask her for a dance. While the couple are ready for the waltz and the applause from the guests are over, Maureen places the violin to her shoulder tucked under the chin and gives the audience a formal smile before drawing the bow across the strings. She can feel the tense atmosphere around the orchestra team as she starts to move the bow. Drawing the violin bow is like moving the pendulums; throw one and the other pendulums would follow before finally repelling back to the first pendulum. As light as a butterfly lands over the water and flies again at once.

Shostakovich’s Waltz No. 2 is her first play and everyone’s favorite song in every masquerade ball. The sound of a violin can capture emotions, even the ones that are buried deep in a human's heart. She has seen how humans surrender to the ethereal sound of harmony. They rise at the beginning of the song and fall to the bittersweet emptiness when it’s over, leaving the unfathomable ache in their heart. Which is the reason why Maureen loves violin. It’s like the violin speaks on her behalf. Her way to connect with the world.

Yet for the first time since a while, Maureen feels a jolt of perturbation come out of nowhere as she takes a glimpse to the crowd, searching for an answer.

Something is wrong, Maureen is certain about that. But what could it be—

And that’s when she caught the piercing blue eyes gazing at her behind a golden Venetian mask.

Curious, because Maureen can’t look away from the man who possesses those eyes. If only she could just ignore him, she would have succeeded to perform the perfect vibrato on the next notes. It wasn’t a fatal mistake, nor that people would’ve noticed the almost flat tone. But she’s a professional violinist. She shouldn’t have made an amateur move just because a man with striking eyes was watching her performance.

It was him, Maureen stared back at the mysterious man. From the stage, she can vaguely see his silver hair behind the mask. His tall and firm posture are visible, even if he stands between the crowd. All the people in this ballroom wear masks, and it’s odd that she can tell the way he looks at her is different from any other guests. It’s almost like he can see right through me…

As the patrons end their first dance, the guests make their move and sway to the dancefloor. The man with striking blue eyes disappears amongst the hustle. Maureen doesn’t know what kind of effrontery that consumes her to trail for that man from the corner of her eyes during the seamless transition she made to the next song. Gundry’s The Vampire Masquerade is probably her most favorite piece. The scandalous and fiendish tunes are extremely apt for this Halloween masquerade, and her prediction was right: the guests spin their body faster and swirl their illustrious and extravagant fabrics as if they’re hypnotized by the melody.

It’s hard for Maureen to find the mysterious man amongst the sea of eminent painting.

Who is he? Maureen asks herself. I sense something dangerous about him.

The dark and lustrous atmosphere lasts for one hour. When Maureen finally rests her hands, she can feel how tired she is. But it wasn’t because of her playing, it’s the unsettling feeling that constantly lingers all over the ballroom. She bows and smiles as the guests give their applause and appraisal before she takes her leave from the stage, blending in the crowd while the orchestra team continue their job. Lady Campbell welcomes her at the food section. She and a group of women in Victorian gowns hand her a glass of champagne and toasting for the success of the masquerade party.

“Miss Graves, was it? I’ve never seen such a divine and elegant performance! I was never an enthusiastic dancer until you tune your violin and enchanted us!” The woman in a red mask greets Maureen. Her glass is trembling a bit when she continues her appraisal. Maybe she’s drunk already, Maureen keeps her smile still as she thanks all the compliments from the women and observes the group’s chatter. They talk about recent destinations, some inconveniences of Lady Midnight’s service, gossip about some influential guests, and finally the one that caught Maureen’s attention; a disturbing issue that there could be a demon on this ship.

“My husband and I have a great concern regarding Lady Midnight’s security. He recruited the best security team and mercenaries to protect this ship. You don’t have to worry about the thing. They guard us until we’re back to Red Grave tomorrow.” Lady Campbell reassures the worried women, but Maureen can hear a degree of hesitation from her words.

“Mercenaries?” Maureen asks cautiously.

A woman in purple gown taps her shoulder. “You know, devil hunters.”

The women let out exaggerated gasps.

“It’s for precaution, of course,” Lady Campbell interrupts. “With the tragedy of a mysterious tree that happened three years ago, we can’t let our guard down anymore.”

“Agreed! Besides, we sailed for almost five days and there’s no update about the demon or whatever it is!” the woman in purple gown convinces them, taking a side with Lady Campbell.

“But Mrs. Tyrell, I swear I heard something hissing from the room beside me!” the woman in yellow mask shivers. “On the first night I thought it was just the sound of the sea, but last night I’m sure that it was something else. I’m not imagining things! Even my husband heard that too!”

“You’re not the only one who said that,” the woman in the golden lace mask agrees. “I heard Baron and Baroness Powell complain about the noisy sound from their room’s ceiling. They said it felt like there’s a snake up there! Could it be a demon? For God’s sake, we can’t even breathe for a second because those monsters are everywhere!”

The woman in green lace gown, whom Maureen considers to be the most beautiful than the rest of them, laughs at their worries. “Nonsense! Let’s not disrespect our patron’s kindness and just enjoy this party! If Lady Campbell said that this ship is safe, then it is!”

The other women seem to disagree with that unbelievable cheerful reassurance. But the patron’s wife exclaims her agreement, despite her forceful fake smile and excitement. “Miss Malia was right! Let us continue to live up this ball. Let me show you our rare collection of paintings in this ballroom. Miss Graves, please come join us!”

Maureen shakes her hand, even though the group shows their interest for her to join them. “I think I will stay a while for more champagne. Enjoy the tour, my ladies.”

The group bids their farewell, much to Maureen’s pleasure. She takes one more glass of champagne from the tray and swallows a half of it. The unsettling feeling is stronger after she heard the possible demon issue. That man. Was it him? Is he a demon? Maureen has seen demons in her life, but she can’t comprehend why she didn’t feel the same dangerous atmosphere as she was when she caught the mysterious man’s eyes…

… like she does right now.

The man is very much taller than she expected. His clothes show off the gallant and menacing impression; a dark blue ascot wrapped around his neck and black vest under black three-tailed coat with silver serpent patterns runs around the collar. His hands were covered by dark fingerless gloves. His black pants and gaiter boots emphasize his beautiful and toned legs. His face is covered in a simple golden Venetian mask, giving a contrast to his dark attire. Even without looking behind that mask, Maureen knows that this man must be gorgeous, and now he’s approaching her.

Oh God. It’s too late to run away.

The man hands her his hand. “My lady.”

Maureen hesitates, but it’s rude to ignore someone’s good intention. If only he really had a good intention to me, she smiles as she lets him give a light kiss on her palm.

“I must say that your violin performance was magnificent. It’s been a while since the last time I saw such a splendid performance.” The man’s husky voice is irresistible. He speaks in a calm and posh mannerism, yet the voice sends the chill down to Maureen’s spine. Moreover, she feels a strange heat rush inside her body. She looks at her glass, pondering if it was the alcohol did its trickery.

“Thank you. It was my pleasure to entertain the guest as well,” Maureen responds at the praise formally as usual. “Although I have to say, it’s my first time playing in a masquerade party.”

“Hard to believe that it’s your first time, with that eloquent violin play of yours. This ball finds its life thanks to you.”

“You’re too flattering, Sir.”

Maureen hears a chuckle behind the man’s mask. She’s so nervous that she imitates his chuckle out of courtesy. “Do you fancy champagne, Sir? I can get you—”

“Please, no need to offer me a drink. I’ve been told that the champagne is extraordinary, but I prefer not to drink.”

“Can’t stand alcohol?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“No way!” She doesn’t know where this audacity to tease him comes from. It must be the champagne, Maureen convinces herself.

The man chuckles again as he offers his hand. “Instead of drinking, I’d be honored if my lady doesn’t mind me asking for a dance.”

Maureen stares at his hand before taking a glance to the dancing floor. She notices the orchestra team is playing Gundry’s Tonight Ve’ Dance. I like this song, Maureen admits half-heartedly, but… this stranger… “I’m not particularly good at dancing.” she laments at her poor excuse.

“I can teach you,” Maureen can sense that he’s smiling as she catches a warmer gaze from the man’s eyes. “You will catch up in no time, I believe that.”

This man is persistent. Knowing that it’s useless to refuse his offer, she accepts his hand. Maureen observes the mysterious silver-haired man who leads her to the middle of festivity. He nods as he wraps his right hand on Maureen’s waist and his other hand reaches her hand. That little gesture surprises her and she doesn’t know why. She finds it hard to just breathe, sensing his fixated eyes on her lenient body in a strange, intimate way.

And it takes her whole bravery to finally put her left hand on his broad shoulder.

Neither one of them say a word as the man guides her tenderly in tune to the music. Maureen follows his movement thoroughly, stepping her left feet forward and backward. Their masked faces are facing each other, as if they are seeking answers from their unspeakable question. He raises their entangled hands, and she twirls gracefully before he holds her body, pulling her ever close to his embrace again when she turns around to face him again.

“Strange,” he remarks. “You’re unexpectedly a quick learner. Viennese waltz is quite tough for beginners.”

Thank God I wear a mask right now. “You must be an outstanding teacher then.”

“Quite the contrary, I believe you have talent in dancing,” the man chuckles. His caresses on Maureen’s back are subtle, yet it’s a sensuous one. “A natural one, apparently.”

Maureen can’t hide her canny smirk. “Alright then. I must confess that I was lying when I said I’m not good at dancing.”

The man moves his head forward, his mouth murmurs a whisper to the shell of her ear. “I knew that already, Miss Graves.”

The radiating warmth from the man’s layers of cloth sends a tingle of strange desire through Maureen at the touch. She clings to him tighter than before, not willing to avoid his cold blue eyes, not even dare to breathe for fear that he might notice her heated, sacrilegious desire. She was never attracted to strangers, until this man showed up and broke her rules. Her little white lie is just fueling the tension between them; his seems intrigued by the lie, but he says nothing. Instead he continues the dance as if he never heard her confession. His gaze indicates his attraction to her, witnessing how delicate she moves between his strong arms. Given their contrast vibes from their dances, anyone could mistake them as an angel and a devil—one is graceful and delicate in white gown, while the other one sparks perilous seduction in dark attire.

“You haven’t mentioned your name.” Maureen confesses her curiosity.

“I thought you would never ask,” he says lightly. “You can call me Vergil.”

“Vergil…” she mumbles the man’s name. Her vision drifts away as a brief memory resides in her head for a while. “Where did I hear that name before…?”

“If you’re familiar with Dante’s Divine Comedy, you’d find my name mentioned plenty of times there.”

“I know that. But I heard that name recently…”

“Perhaps from poetry. Aeneid is Virgil’s infamous work.”

“I know! But… no... not from poetry.” she doubts herself. She’s certain that she heard his name somewhere else.

“Memories are dangerous things, Miss Graves. It could help you or betray you.”

“Then it’s best to leave it be,” Maureen twirls ecstatically and leaning back against Vergil’s chest. “Mr. Vergil, I believe today is the first time I see you since the first day of voyage.”

“I’ve been working behind the scene,” Vergil covers her small hands with his arms. “For the sake of this ship’s safety.’

Maureen tilts her head over him. “You’re one of the mercenaries?”

“Why, Miss Graves. I presumed Lady Campbell had told you.”

A rush of dread fills Maureen’s veins right after Vergil’s disclosure.

“Lord Campbell contacted me two weeks ago,” he continues, his eyes trace on Maureen’s sudden discomfort. “Rumors about sea monsters sends him on his edge.”

“Did you… find any demons then?”

Vergil pulls her hand gently to make her face him. His words are certain and undeniable, chilling her to the marrow. “Yes.”

Maureen stops her moves at once, barely breathing and unable to think clearly. So, here’s why his presence terrifies me. Each of her nerves are screaming, forcing her to just escape him. But he seems to expect this reaction—he squeezes her hand and waist gently, with eyes linger to her bitten lips as if he prevents her from running away. “Have you heard rumors spoken by the guests? They said they heard slither and croaky hissing every midnight. I found a body devil hunter who was supposed to work with me in his room—his bones were salient because his blood was drained like a mummy. And this morning, Madame Cross’s little baby is paralyzed. He’s still alive, but unable to wake from his sleep. I believe the demon is currently in this ballroom with us.”

Maureen’s jolt of shock gives Vergil his answer to his unspeakable question. He continues to step forward, followed by Maureen who is trying to hide her fear by her steady steps. She accidentally steps on Vergil’s toe, which Vergil just laughs casually at it. His crisp laugh sounds lethal in her ears, as if the Death itself were laughing at her. Maureen’s brain can’t cope with dreadful terror she’s facing right now. She grips onto Vergil’s shoulders, slightly clawing his fine coat.

Of course, Vergil notices this as he stops moving, lifting Maureen’s chin in a tender way. “You look rather pale, my lady. Am I scaring you?”

She shakes her head immediately. “I’m fine. I just wondered… do you have a name for that demon in your mind?”

Vergil nods, glancing at the crowd as the orchestra team has stopped the music and people give them applause. “I’m certain that there are almost twenty Lamias lurking around the ball.”

Lamia? Maureen gasps with eyes wide open. Twenty Lamias? Why can’t I feel their presence—wait, this man… he doesn’t know that I am—

“Impressive. They hide themselves quite well. It’s difficult to notice their presence. But now their patience has worn out. They won’t wait anymore. It should be easy, yet…” he continues, holding both of Maureen’s palm and lifting them to meet his tantalizing lips. “I need more time to figure out what you are.”

He… knows?

Just right when the question was about to leave the tip of Maureen’s tongue, the unforeseen power outage shocked all the passengers. The baffling voices spread through the room, shouting questions and complaints. Maureen can hear Lord Campbell’s raging yell to his employees and demands them to turn on the power at instant. In the middle of this uproar, she’s surprised by a comforting feeling from the presence of Vergil, whose arms are covering her body. It’s almost like he’s protecting her, despite their previous austere tension. The dark always calms her, yet she can’t really enjoy it now, for she knows that this power outage was intentional. “It’s them, right?”

“Apparently so,” Vergil agrees. “I can even hear them snarling right now.”

“But why now…?”

“A room full of prey is perfect for feasting, don’t you think so?”

It sounds like he throws me sarcasm. “I… don’t know…” Maureen loses her words.

The light turns on, followed by relieved sighs from the guests. But it doesn’t last, for a ghastly scream of a woman deafens the entire ballroom. The crowd circles between her, witnessing her howl of anguish over a mummified, dead body of a masked man under her extravagant Edwardian dress. Such a horrid view, raising a ruckus among the guests. Another petrifying scream comes followed by demonic roars. Some guests turn into monstrous snake-like demons while melting their human skins. They feast on whoever closest nearby, sucking their blood and clawing out their eyes before they gulp it down.

“Mr. Vergil!” Lord Campbell arrives from nowhere. Clearly, he doesn’t look very happy when he sees Vergil just stand still with Maureen. “What are you doing there?! THEY SLAUGHTER ALL OF MY GUESTS!”

Vergil chaffs mockingly at the cruise ship’s patron. “But it was your plan all along, wasn’t it? You and your Lamia lover. Do you really think you can fool me, Lord Campbell?”

Confusion clouds on Lord Campbell’s face as he startles when Vergil summons a katana out of thin air. He unleashes it from the scabbard, pointing the tip of the blade to the patron. “Go. Run for your life. I will find you soon after I exterminate those abominable demons.”

As expected, Lord Campbell runs away, ditching and pushing people around him like a tortured animal. Maureen was about to chase him, but Vergil grabs her shoulder. “Find Lady Campbell. Keep her safe.”

“But you said he and his Lamia lover—”

“Lady Campbell is not the Lamia queen. I know that for sure. The queen is somewhere here. I’ll go find her once I slay her subordinates,” Vergil draws his sword, glaring at a Lamia that taunts him and cuts its head in a single slash. “Can I count on you, Miss Graves?”

Maureen can sense how dangerous and powerful Vergil is just by witnessing how he killed the Lamia. He isn’t a human. I’m sure of it. I cannot imagine how terrifying it must be… to be at his complete mercy. The katana… was forged in darkness. Just like me.

She finally gives him a nod. Her hand reaches into her thigh-high slit of her dress, pulling out a handgun she always brings with her wherever she goes. It is loaded, but she doesn’t bring more ammunition in case the situation gets worse than she had imagined. “Then I can count on you to demolish those snakes, Mr. Vergil.”

“Certainly, Miss Graves.”

“Call me Maureen.”

Vergil gives her a final grin before he goes at a speed of light to the hustle.

Although she’s still in awe from witnessing Vergil’s superhuman speed, Maureen takes a haste to find Lady Campbell. She rushes to the east side of the ballroom, where Lady Campbell was last seen. She shudders when she sees a pile of mummified women bodies, which a moment ago was the group of women she had encountered for champagne. Maureen aims her gun at a woman in green gown who pins and chokes Lady Campbell to the wall. “Put her down, Miss Malia.”

The queen of Lamia hisses at her, chuckling in croaky laughter. “Well, well, if it isn’t our lovely violinist.”

“I should’ve realized it. Your choice of alias is terrible.”

“Yet people didn’t notice,” the Lamia queen drops Lady Campbell, leaving her coughing breathlessly. “Pitiful humans. I promised Lord Campbell prosperous life and money because he’s about to be penniless, only if he gives me humans as sacrifice. He said this pathetic ship was his last chance, and he’s right. Tonight, there will be no humans left in this ship—”

A bullet comes through her chest before she encloses her words. Maureen puts a finger on the trigger again. “You finished?”

“My dear, look at you,” Lamia queen slowly pads to Maureen. “I don’t know what you are, but you’re not a human. Why bother protecting them? We can work together, you know that.”

Maureen pulls the trigger right to the queen’s forehead. “I’m not interested.”

The Lamia queen bursts out laughing. Her clothes are torn apart, skins melt and reveals her beautiful human face turns into her original bestial face. Her fangs lengthen as her lower body transforms into a gigantic snake body. The wound on her head heals quickly in just a second. “My dear, you should use a silver bullet.”

She’s right. I left my silver ammo in my room. “I can still kill you.”

“How? There’s no silver in this ship. Campbell threw it all to the ocean.”

“And you believe he checked all the rooms? That’s far-fetched.”

“At least in this room. Doesn’t matter. You're all going to die here anyway.”

The queen charges an attack to Maureen, but the violinist is quicker. She repels the attack and launches the bullet to the queen’s head again, this time is calmer and takes a precise move to bait the queen to the stage. Fucking heels, she takes off her shoes while evades insistent strikes from Lamia queen. The ballroom seems a little bit spacious since most of the guests are running out from the room and the rest are dead, or still trying to escape this madness. She catches Vergil’s tall and firm stature in the middle of the dance floor, swinging his sword in remarkable versatility. His attack is quick and precise while keeping his distance from a pack of Lamia, not even a drop of Lamia’s blood can reach him. His fighting movement is like dancing, ponders Maureen as she observes him unleashes rapid slashes with a vortex of purple-blue energy that instantly kills all the Lamia around him. She can’t even see when he unsheathes his sword and puts it back to the scabbard again.

“Where are you looking at, girl? I’m right here!” the Lamia queen taunts her; her yellowed eyes turn darker, an evidence of her hunger and eagerness to feast on Maureen.

A light smile appears on Maureen’s face as she keeps firing the queen. “Oh, I forgot you’re still here.”

Almost here, Maureen jumps to the wrecked stage and searches her violin case viciously. Still intact and undamaged!

“Oh, poor Miss Graves…” the Lamia queen hisses, enjoying Maureen’s confusion. “Ran out of bullets?”

“I don’t need that anymore,” Maureen tosses her gun to Lamia’s head, raising the queen’s anger while she slithers faster to where Maureen stands right now with an unnatural crave to kill the violinist. Keeping her calm and composed mind together, Maureen draws her violin bow with anticipation. I hope this is going to work. Can’t rely on Vergil right now…

“DIE!” the Lamia queen attacks in an ambush, wrapping herself around Maureen’s body and squeezing it tighter as Maureen tries to escape.

“You should have accepted my invitation earlier, Miss Graves,” the Lamia queen giggles unpleasantly. “Maybe I could spare you, even letting you eat those humans.”

“I… don’t eat… human flesh,” Maureen pants.

“Pity. Then I shall—AAAARRGHH!”

The tight wrap around Maureen’s body loosens gradually as the Lamia queen screams in agony. “Wretched human! How dare you stab me?!”

Maureen, still adjusting her breath, raises her violin bow. “It's a silver mounted bow, bitch.”

Despite the pain from her perforated tail, The Lamia queen still manages to launch another attack even though it’s getting slower. Maureen keeps stabbing her with the violin bow, piercing its grip to the demon’s body as much as she can. The amount of silver in the winding is too little, but it’s better than nothing. The Lamia queen forces her to leave the stage again, her sloppy movement causes her hand to bleed by the sharpness of the bow hair.

“You cannot defeat me with that flimsy stick of yours!” the Lamia queen declares assertively. Black, thick blood is spilled from holes that Maureen has created on the beast’ body, yet she shows no signs of surrender.

“I know,” Maureen admits wholeheartedly, eyes fixate on the snake demon in front of her and points the violin bow to her direction. “But he can.”

Even before the Lamia queen could figure Maureen’s words, a sharp blade passes through the queen’s chest as she wails in suffering, looking at a fatal wound on her chest.

“Don’t get so cocky,” the man in a golden Venetian mask warns the queen. “Now, you’re going down.”

He pulls back his sword before he swings it again to decapitate the Lamia queen, leaving no chance for the demon to revive her body once and for all. Its headless body falls motionless, ending the terror on the ship. Maureen looks up at Vergil, who’s still clean from Lamia's blood, contrasting to her blood-soaked dress. She was going to greet him, only if Vergil didn’t look at her in a poignant way. She wonders why Vergil stares at her with that look—a curious, intrigued gaze that makes her feel like she’s naked.

When she glances at a wall of mirror, she gets her answer. Her mask is gone, leaving her face exposed entirely. But that’s not her main concern.

Her onyx eyes are now as red as blood.

Vergil sees it, and he still hasn’t sheathed his sword.

He’s going to kill me.

“Miss Graves!”

Maureen quickly blinks her eyes, transforming her red eyes to her original black ones as Lady Campbell, now without her mask, runs at her hastily. She’s accompanied by security team and sea marshals, asking if she’s hurt anywhere and thanking her for her help. The medics has arrived to heal the guests. The security crew rush into the ballroom and shout at the undamaged survivor to come back to their room while they clean up the mess. Maureen has no choice but follows Lady Campbell heading out from the ballroom, pestering at Maureen’s wounded palm. She turns her head back at Vergil, who’s still staring at her while giving reports to the marshals, consumed by either curiosity or desire to kill her.

Maybe both, Maureen’s body begins to tremble in fear, without hope for the devil hunter to spare her life.

The cruise ship returns to normal and quiet soon after the marshals arrest Lord Campbell, who was about to jump to the ocean before the marshals caught him. Lady Campbell had told Maureen about the arrest, and how her husband went hopeless because his company is going bankrupt. He started to constantly beat up his wife and abandon his responsibilities, but Lady Campbell had never spared any thought about the lord would gone too far as sealing a pact with Lamia and intended to sacrifice all passengers, including herself.

That was when she told Maureen how grateful she was for having Vergil on board, which reminds her again about Vergil’s threatening demeanor.

Once Maureen had left Lady Campbell’s room to let her rest, she rushes to her own room. All passengers are obliged to stay in their rooms until Lady Midnight arrives on Red Grave to prevent any danger while the crews continue to maintain the safety of the ship. Most of the passengers have already stated that they will sue this ship once they arrive on Red Grave, which is not surprising since nobody wanted bloodbath on a vacation. Maureen decides to pass the crowd by hiding in the shadow, letting herself blended with the darkness… until she becomes one with the dark and travels between the shadows into her room.

She doesn’t bother to turn the light on and makes her way to the bathroom, ripping her bloody dress off and taking a shower. Her wounded palm hurts a little when the water drips on it. Lady Campbell asked her to go to the medic, but Maureen refused. All she needs right now is time for herself. She needs to think how to escape this ship before Vergil finds her. Perhaps I could hide in the shadow again until it’s safe, Maureen muses as she wraps a bathrobe over her body. He won’t realize it. He said he still needs to figure out what kind of creature I am…

A vibrating, almost inaudible knock comes from the windows balcony, startling Maureen to her aghast. Vergil is there, comes out of nowhere while Maureen thinks she’s safe right now. Her body is freezing, and can't even think about any anticipation especially when she spots Vergil is still holding his sheathed katana. She knows Vergil will find out her room soon, but she never thought he would find this soon. He says something to her, but the window is soundproof. Not that she wanted to open the window for him. It’s not too late to shadow travel, Maureen checks on the room’s surrounding, ignoring Vergil’s persistent knocks.

Flashy blue light from the window distracts her concentration. Vergil sends his sword off to the thin air. He raises both of his hands as a sign of peace. His mouth moves in a certain shape of words: ‘I’m not here to hurt you. Would you please let me in?’

I can’t trust him, Maureen shakes her head. But, he’s a hunter. If I escape now, he will find me again somehow.

Casting aside her fear, she reaches her hand to the knob, unlocking the window. Must Vergil exhibit any slightest gesture to attack her, she’s ready to escape in the shadow anytime. The man finally comes in, offering his hand to the violinist. “May I see your hand, Maureen? I noticed the bow scratched your left palm.”

“It’s okay,” Maureen hides her hands behind her back. “What do you want, Mr. Vergil?”

“Just call me Vergil. No more formality,” Vergil takes one more step closer to her, his hand still waiting for her. “Please, I just want to make sure if you’re okay.”

“Aren’t you going to kill me?”

“My lady, I have no slightest idea on how you perceive me as someone who wants to kill you.”

“You… you know who I am. And you are a devil hunter. I saw your desire to kill me soon after you beheaded the Lamia queen.”

For a moment, none of them speaks their mind out. They just stand still, eyes trailing on each other, but it’s different from their last encounter. Vergil takes her left hand carefully, this time he receives no resistance from Maureen. He caresses the vertical wound, eyebrows furrowed, as if he feels the pain as well. “You are the first non human being I’ve encountered in this ship.”

“What?”

“I thought you were a vampire. Your pale skin and red eyes when in danger or thirst resembles them,” Vergil moves his thumb over the scar. “But you are not a vampire. You walk freely in broad daylight. You didn’t flinch on silver, but you hesitated whenever there’s an iron nearby. Iron doesn’t hurt you, but it makes you uncomfortable. I didn’t know what you are at that time, therefore I decided to just keep an eye on you.”

Maureen lets him cup both of her palms, calmly exhales as she gives him a hint of smirk. “Do you know what I am now, Vergil?”

“Why, yes,” Vergil gives a peck on the top of Maureen’s palm, then locking her hands on his chest. “I saw you absorbing human’s energy every night when most passengers are asleep. Out there, at your balcony.”

“That’s impossible! Normal humans can’t see energy form—”

“But I am not a normal human. I bet I’m the only one in this ship who can see that, since all the Lamia are now dead,” Vergil’s head is slightly lowered, his masked face is still unreadable, yet now it radiates more warmth and… compassion. “You have many names… and I believe humans rarely aware of your presence. Plaksy, krisky, night hag… gorska makva…”

Maureen finds herself struggling to move as Vergil circles her until he stops right behind her, fingers trailing on Maureen’s tensing shoulders. She feels his hot minty breath getting closer to her ear, whispering his precise statement.

“… nocnitsa.”

Fuck.

The only sound that breaks the silence is just the heavy breathing coming from them. Vergil’s firm and warm hands rest on Maureen’s shoulders before he gives them a small massage as if to ensure her to stay still. His touch makes her flinch, trembling from his unexpected delicious movements.

“You’re known as a spirit who drains life energy from humans. Sitting on their chest as you suck their energy, causing them experiencing sleep paralysis. Some source said you take a liking to children, because their dreams are richer than adults…” he continues his pressure on her shoulders. “We both know it’s folklore version. Nocnitsa lives by sucking life energy from every living being in every possible way, not just by sitting on their chest. The stronger their emotions and dreams; be it nightmare or pleasant dream, the more strength you’d gain. Greater amount of drained energy can cause nightmares and paralysis to their victim, even death.”

The vibration of his voice propelling tension throughout Maureen’s body as Vergil presses his entire front body against her back.

“Evil nocnitsa loves to drain energy until their victim run out of life energy,” Vergil’s lips touch her reddened ear. “They are known to terrorize children in their sleep. Feeding on their dream slowly...”

Maureen tries her best to form a sentence. “Madame Cross’ baby—it wasn’t me. I’m not that heartless—”

“I know,” his finger lingers on Maureen’s lips, caressing it to slightly open her mouth. “The baby woke up once the Lamia queen was slayed. Apparently, Madame Cross realized that her baby’s paralysis happened after a teatime with Miss Malia, the queen’s human form. My best guess is that the baby was sensitive to evil presence and the queen casted a spell to put him to long slumber, perhaps to silence him or eat him later.”

“T-that’s horrid…” Maureen’s voice is barely recognizable, carefully moving her lips without accidentally bite Vergil’s finger while she’s captured between Vergil’s embrace. “But… Vergil… who are you…?”

“Me?” he chuckles darkly. “I’m a cambion.”

Human and demon’s offspring? No way. Could it be… “Vergil… one of the sons of Sparda?”

His short hum says it all.

That’s why his name sounds familiar to me. And no wonder I feel danger whenever he’s around. Such an odd circumstance to have him here… capturing me in my own room…

Vergil nips her earlobe lightly, raising the unyielding pressure in her throbbing core. She can hear his removed mask falling on the floor as she automatically turns to face him, but he stops her. His hand rested on her nape, asserting his control and dominance.

“I want to see you.” Maureen breathes heavily.

“Not yet,” Vergil declines steadily.

He lowers his index finger from her nape, trailing a slow and subtle stroke up the center of her spine. Maureen nods slightly at his refusal, surrenders completely to his touches. His finger ends on her stomach, exactly at the bathrobe’s belt...

“May I have you, Maureen?” he purrs, skimming his lips across her neck. “Will you have me?”

“Yes,” she leans back into him, feeling his throbbing erection through his pants, pulsing hard into her spine. “Yes… Please… Vergil…”

Vergil grasps the belt and pulls it off, lowering the bathrobe and exposing Maureen’s bare skin. She can hear his breath gets heavier, growling at the sight of her. Maureen is completely naked before him; her fair and very pale skin is glowing in the darkness of the room. He kisses her smooth long black hair tenderly, inhaling the intoxicating scent of hers.

“You are exceptionally beautiful, beloved,” his words are full of conviction. “Now... you and me…”

He removes his hands from her body. Maureen can’t believe that she misses the heat from Vergil’s body already. She feels hollow and empty, and he hasn’t even touched her properly. She hears more stuff falling on the floor; his coat, vest, pants, even boots. Only then she realizes that they both are clothless. His lips back on her shoulder again and giving them tiny little bites. He pulls her to lean on his chest again, this time Maureen can feel his bare skin entangled with hers in a feverish heat. His hands grip her hips as if he wants her to move closer to him. One of those firm hands heading up in a mild but definite motion to her right breast, circling her nipple with his thumb. Her nipple lengthens at that contact. Her whimper creates a small grin at the corner of his lips. He’s aware of the effect he’s having on her.

“Already this eager, my dear?” he murmurs, still pecking on her shoulders. He brings his other palm to cup her other breast, squeezing them in painfully slow motion. Her breasts become heavy as her whimper gradually changes into wanton moans.

“Haaa… Vergil…” Maureen whines. Her shaking palms settle on Vergil’s arms, holding at him tight as she follows his palm’s movement over her aching mounds. Her head arches back by the intimate pleasure from her chest and her already wet cunt. The knead on her mounds are getting harder when Maureen forces herself to turn her head over to see Vergil as a warning that he doesn’t allow her to see him yet.

“I told you, haven’t I? Not yet.”

Her eagerness excites him, makes him want to delve more inside her. His right palm leaves her chest, long and hot fingers of him lands on the outside of her wet flower. He barely moves any of his fingers, yet it sends unbearable shiver all over Maureen’s body while she shakes her head and shut her eyes out of pleasure.

“Don’t look away. Look at yourself, Maureen. Look at how my fingers are going to fill your tight cunt up.” Vergil’s command is undeniable. Maureen does exactly as he orders, not dare to spare a glance from her lower body. It’s quite hard to see her beautiful vagina being invaded by Vergil’s skillful fingers in this position, while his fingers are moving in and out of her, stretching her hot walls. Maureen’s face burns up from hearing wet and amoral noises which grow louder in the room. She tightens her grip on Vergil’s left arm until her knuckles turn paler than her skin as she finally jerks up at the flood of releasement. Her head tilts as a lewd moan finds its way out of her throat.

“So wet for me, hmm…” Vergil slides out of Maureen’s folds while she pants sluggishly, still hasn’t recovered her from nectarous orgasm. He pushes his body on her back; his fully erected thick cock presses on her buttock, jolting her in shock. Maureen worries if such a large of manhood would fit inside her. Vergil gives her a tease by moving his cock between her buttock, causing her to whimper delinquently. His fingers trace on Maureen’s chin, tilting it to face him…

She doesn’t believe that such a breathtaking, godly face belongs to a mere human. His skin is as fair as she is, with swept back white hair that emphasizes on his fierce and cold expression. Maureen braves herself to put her index finger on his clean and strong jaw, down to his throat… feeling his slow purr as he kisses her temple before he spins her around, crashing his lips against hers, stealing her breath. She flings her arms over his shoulders to pull him closer while their hot mouth and tongues dueling. He presses his groin on her lower stomach, so she can feel his hard as steel erection, bidding to enter her soaked flowers. A groan escapes from Maureen’s mouth during this heat moment. She squirms underneath him.

Vergil pulls away, despite his covetous desire to break her. He casts a gaze on her current predicament, pleased at the sight before him; Maureen’s moist lips part and her flushed red cheeks seduce him to have her in his grasps… to claim her as his. Her cloudy eyes trace his smothering body, eventually meeting with his icy eyes that reflects his unspeakable demand to have her beneath him.

“Take me, Vergil,” Maureen begs.

Vergil buries his face on her neck, giving her whole pure skin his marks. “I will. At my pace.”

“Please…”

“More,” he growls. “I like it when you beg.”

Maureen tightens her embrace, clawing her slender fingers on his beautiful back. “Please Vergil… I want you, so bad… I need your cock inside me! Please fuck me hard! I want you to fill me… fuck me mindlessly… I want you to—”

His desperate groans cut her plea as he swoops down to her mouth, claiming and raiding her mouth possessively. Their hard kisses become wilder as they bite each other, while Vergil lifts her body and she wraps her legs around his waist. Maureen’s body trembles on burning arousal just by feeling his hot cock slipping and entering her swollen cunt, causing a scandalous cry to escape her mouth. Vergil pins her against the window, her legs still covering his waist.

“Does my cock feel good?” Vergil asks roughly. His touch and presence are suffocating her, yet it makes her craving for him… for more… and more…

“Yes! So good, Vergil… it feels so good!” Maureen catches her breath in struggle. A subtle smirk appears on the corner of the lips. “It would feel much better… if you move your cock right now.”

“It seems like I need to teach you a lesson,” Vergil thrusts upwards, painfully slow. “I am a cruel man, little bird, and I will be cruel to you.”

He invades her mouth ravenously while moving his hips, this time harder and more powerful, thrusting her mercilessly. Maureen claws at him and panting as each strike from Vergil drowns her lost into the sea of lust. Please… harder. Lose yourself. Don’t hold back…

Vergil lets out a smug grin. “My little bird seems to enjoy herself.”

“So good, Vergil… it’s too good—ah!”

The next thrust from Vergil marks her second releasement. It was so good and intense that Maureen feels her body starts to get weaker. One of her trembling hands slips from Vergil’s neck as she tries to balance herself from falling, despite she knows Vergil won’t let her fall. But her clumsy movement causes a little accident; she pushes the knob and the window opens, letting the sea breeze come inside her room, tickling her flaming skin.

“Hmm…” Vergil hums roughly. “Good idea, little bird.”

“Wha—no! Not outside!” Maureen clings to him, pleading her disagreement. But Vergil walks to the fence, putting her down from his waist and pinning her to prevent her struggle.

“The window is soundproof.”

“People still can see!”

“This room is located at the very back of the ship. With aft-facing corner balconies, this room has the most secure privacy. There are no neighbor’s balconies on either side…” Vergil kisses her forehead tenderly, quite opposite with his intimidating gaze. “Besides, we would know if someone’s still awake, and don’t pretend you don’t have the ability to put them in their sleep.”

“I do have that ability… it just feels… so wrong.”

Vergil cups her jaws before giving her a soft kiss on her nose and lips. “We both know you want this, little bird.”

He turns her body, placing her hands on the fence. “Let the sea witness how beautiful and enchanting you are when you’re full of ecstasy.”

As he inserts himself into her tight walls again, it’s too late for Maureen to hold back.

He grips her hips and pushes himself deep. He pounds hard and fast, almost without mercy. They feel the intensity and intimacy of their attached bodies moving together. They can’t hold their seductive gasps and moans as they keep fucking each other in salacious desire.

“Vergil… Vergil… oh—ah! M-more!” Maureen wails and whimpers as her walls are getting tighter. She can feel her clitoris throbs harder as she’s close to another releasement.

“You are such a greedy little thing…” he growls. His voice grows lower and darker on each groan.

“Vergil… please give me more…!”

The cambion stops his movement and pulls away his cock abruptly, leaving his woman gasps in confusion as she feels the void filling her body. She moans desperately. “Vergil… why…?”

Vergil kneads her sensitive mounds gently, teasing her with his cock slipping between her warm inner thighs. “I know you’re about to come. Is that true, my love?”

“Yes!” she cries.

“Do you want more? Do you want me fuck you harder?”

“Yes, please!”

“Then prove your worth,” Vergil tilts her body to face him, smirking at the sight of her beautiful, submissive woman. “On your knees, slut.”

Maureen lowers her body down to the cold floor, eyes captivated by Vergil’s menacing face. She opens her mouth slightly to catch some air, but it turns out her little action excites him very much. He caresses her hair and cheeks softly as if she’s a good pet, before he pushes his thumb into her mouth.

“You know what to do, little bird.” Vergil’s command is absolute.

His dominant presence secretly excites Maureen as she feels a weird surge of tension fulfill her stomach and swelled pussy. She reaches Vergil’s cock, giving it a light rub before she massages it softly. He seems to grow impatient at her soft and light touches, pounding his cock into her little mouth.

“I told you,” Vergil says seductively. “I’m a cruel person.”

Contrary to her protest, Maureen’s body seems eager to indulge his lust of her. She blows him, licking his long and thick cock as if she’s thirsty of him. She takes a glance to Vergil, seeking a slight sign of approval from him. She admires his beautiful body from below, feeling the urge to find her own releasement as she slides her hand to her cunt, but Vergil notices it.

“I forbid you to touch yourself,” he snarls. “Or I will leave you here, desperate and begging me to please you like a pathetic little slut.”

She shakes her head immediately, sucking his cock harder as an apology. He seems satisfied by her surrender, eyes lingering to her full mouth.

“Who would have thought that you, an enchanting nocnitsa, the keeper of the night, turn out to be a wanton harlot?” he murmurs as she sucks him deeper. “Such a ravishing seductress, aren’t you?”

There’s no sign of insult from his face. Instead, he seems to adore her as he gently guides her head to move faster. Maureen can feel he’s close to his first release. He shuts his eyes when he releases his fluid inside Maureen’s mouth—his cock still throbbing while she continues to move her tongue. She swallows it all before she pulls her mouth away, waiting for Vergil’s next command. But Vergil lifts her up instead, carrying her back inside her room.

“Good,” he kisses her temple and drops her tenderly on the bed. A guttural sound comes from his throat. “I shall comply with your desire as well.”

He kisses her face, down to her chest and slightly biting her breasts. Then he gulps one of the mounds, his tongue dances on the hardened nipple like a hungry baby while the other hand squeezes the other mound. Her delicate skin and his calloused hands feel like an amazing contrast. He inhales her scent and that drives him crazy, finding himself hard again and his cock is now fully erected. Her mounds are now moist and hot under his persistent care.

Vergil’s caresses go further down to Maureen’s inner thighs. He spreads her legs apart, smiling at Maureen’s embarrassment. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No! Don’t stop!”

“Very well.” He buries his face down between her thighs, worshiping her blossoming, nectarous tight hole. Each of his lick sends prickly goosebumps on her skins, causing her to arch her back and violently pull the sheet to hold herself.

“Ahhhh!” Maureen feels his hot and wicked tongue circles her clit and the inner part of her vulva. He increases his speed and pressure, adding two fingers inside her. The surging tension crashes down into her lower stomach, preventing her to breath normally, even now she can’t form a single thought as he strokes faster until she feels a torturous pleasure comes out like flood. He licks his fingers, tantalizing the woman beneath him who’s whimpering, still hasn’t recovered from the delicious blackout.

“Ever since I saw you for the first time, I know you would haunt me,” Vergil places his arms between Maureen’s shoulders. “That I won’t get enough of you… that I will get hurt for you…”

His mouth meets hers, dancing in a tender motion. She folds her hands over his back, deepening their kiss and embrace. Her soft caresses on his back soothes him as his breath is getting calmer, giving her a sense of comfort. He gives her a peck on her nose while eyeing her exposed nakedness sharply. Only then, he thrusts himself inside her again, slowly and gently. He wants to feel the warmth between her walls, taking his time to feel his cock bulging harder inside her. Vergil spares her a small smile, showing his pure affection towards the nocnitsa.

“May I move?” he asks politely.

Maureen nods, unable to form a word despite her eagerness to answer him.

They deeply tangled in that bed in sensual rhythm. Moans and ragged breath are mingled. He pulls up his body and holds his knees close to her hips, enclosing his palms around Maureen’s ankles to spread her legs wider, kissing the soft skin of her calf, much to her surprise. For a moment ago, he was cruel and dominating, yet now he indulges her sweetly as if he worships her. His growl is changing, almost sounds like a beast. Maureen can’t hide her shock when she sees his blue eyes glowing and his pupils are splitting into demonic eyes.

Is he turning into his demon form? “Vergil…?”

“Hush now…” Vergil keeps digging inwardly, groaning at the narrow sensation from her inside.

“Don’t hold back,” Maureen pants. “I want to see your true form.”

“You will regret it.”

“I can handle that. Please, Vergil.”

Her wish is his command. He can no longer hold his primal instinct to consume her, to mark her as his. He releases his demon form; his body turns into blue scaly beast, with four wings attached on his back. His face can’t hide his deepest lust for her as he wraps his scaly tail over her body, gently places her on his lap. She rests her body on his scaly thighs before she pushes herself down, swallowing his monstrous cock. She can’t believe that Vergil can be this large. When she thinks Vergil can’t be more surprising, he always exceeds her expectations.

“Stay still,” he murmurs in a demonic voice.

Maureen carefully flings her arms onto Vergil’s harsh neck. She kisses his beastly jaw, causing him to shiver and growl impatiently.

“Don’t provoke me,” Vergil warns her, thrusting his cock upwards tenderly. His long, fiendish tongue licks her shoulders and chest.

Maureen caresses his face, her eyes spark with adoration. “Vergil… you are so beautiful.”

And that’s enough to fuel him up.

He moves his thighs, shoving himself so deep and hard, causing Maureen’s stifled cries to fill the room. The prickly sensation of scratching at her inner walls struck her sharply. Their affectionate kiss turns into nasty one. His fangs linger on her jaw and lowers to her nape, bleeding her for a little while he strikes her like a stake over and over again. His tail is keeping her in balance, protecting her from falling and his sharp scaly skin. As he drags Maureen deeper into her animalistic lust, her eyes change into blood red. Her desire and thirst for him is flowing as she absorbs him—a glowing blue mist radiates from Vergil’s body, circling Maureen before she opens her mouth and swallows the mist to gain more strength.

“That’s it. Absorb me. Absorb all my emotions, my nightmares, my power. You are mine, as I am yours, Maureen. Feed only me.”

“Vergil… oh my… you taste so good… I need more of you,” Maureen offers her neck to him. “Let’s have each other, Vergil. Please, take me…”

Vergil accepts the offer to bite her neck, carefully not to rip it off or else she could die. Blood spilled over her shoulder and he licked it all, drinking and enjoying the taste of her. They consume each other whilst their bodies are still connected and moving at a wilder pace. They already forgot about anything else, not that it matters right now. They just want to devour and savor each other’s souls until they are lost in oblivion.

“Vergil…” Maureen comes to her limit. “My love… I’m—”

“Come. Come to me, beloved.”

He pounds harder and his hands clamping onto her shoulders along with Maureen’s insatiate scream and squirting her nectar. His cock swells and jerks as he releases his seed violently deep inside her womb. Fluids come out from her moisten womanhood. Deliriously, she collapses forward onto his upper body, which gradually returns to his human form. Their damp bodies still entangled to each other, exhausted and content. Vergil strokes her back providently, feeling amazed as he sees the misty energy that she absorbed from him heals her wounds quickly.

“I made a mess of you.” He sighs calmly. “Did I hurt you?”

Vergil senses her head on his chest shaking slowly.

“We broke the bed…” Maureen giggles, pointing at the bed with disarray holes in it.

“I guess it won’t be a problem. This ship will never sail again anyway. At least until we reach Red Grave.” Vergil leans their bodies on the bed, bringing her head on his chest again. They speak nothing for a moment, just feeling the warmth emitted from their bodies. Maureen finds herself love to hear his steady heartbeat, shutting her eyes to feel its movement.

“Try to sleep, my love.” He gives her a peck on the crown of her head.

“You realize that nocnitsa is doomed to have a nightmare every time they fall asleep as a price for our power, right?”

“I do,” Vergil caresses her head. “But I can do something about that.”

He transfers his demonic power to her, as she gradually feels her body getting numb and sleepy. She doesn’t even realize when she falls asleep. She just falls into absolute darkness. No nightmares, no dreams, not even an anxious feeling but the pleasant and calming memory of Vergil.

From the moment she opened her eyes, Vergil was nowhere to find.

Lady Midnight has landed at the port of Red Grave. It’s not very shocking to see the passengers rush themselves out from the cursed ship. Luckily, Maureen found a great spot to hide and blend in the shadows of the passengers, so she doesn’t have to mingle with the horde of angry passengers. She lifts her suitcase, escaping herself from the journalists who're waiting for them.

Maureen realizes that she misses this city, even though weird things always happen in this forsaken city. She misses its clear and fresh breath. She cannot wait to arrive at her apartment, playing her violin again. Maybe she would compose a song. She already has her idea ever since her steamy night with Vergil.

Vergil…

She makes a mental note to pass by the Devil May Cry office someday. She never thought that the famous devil hunter in this city has a twin brother. The one who created a big hole in her heart once she woke up without his presence.

Maureen reaches in the pocket of her coat to find her phone, intending to order a taxi. But her fingers catch something else aside from her cellphone.

A memo?

Maureen opens the paper, reading the neat handwriting written on it.

Never to bid good-bye

Or lip me the softest call,

Or utter a wish for a word,

While I saw morning harden upon the wall,

Unmoved, unknowing

That your great going

Had place that moment and altered all.

Until we meet again, my little bird.

-Vergil

Maureen folds the paper neatly and puts it back into her pocket. For the first time in her long and empty life, she feels an unexpected encouragement as well as an aching longing for someone. It is true when you dance with the devil, you don’t change the devil. It’s the devil who changes you.

Until then, Vergil.

Notes:

The poem mentioned by Vergil is “The Going” written by Thomas Hardy

===

A/N : Finally, my first smut! I blame whitedemonqueen from AO3 and all the thirsty Vergil's hoes lovers at Discord server for making me write this sinned fic XD

Tagging : @shiranyaaww @harlot-of-oblivion

Masterlist

#devil may cry #devil may cry fanfiction #dmc fanfiction #vergil #vergil x oc #vergil x reader #vergil x you #vergil x maureen #devil may cry smut #masquerade party #masquerade fanfiction #nocnitsa #nocnitsa reader #violinist reader #masquerade fiction #night writes #do you notice the Thor : Ragnarok reference? xD

97 notes · View notes

smuggsy · 4 years ago

Note

Hey, Leti! I saw you wanted some flyboys prompts. I'll give you two so you can pick between them if you want? How about for Words: “I’ll always be here when you need me,” or for Actions: "for one muse to help the other clean blood off of themselves." <3

You really hit the nail with the second one, it's like you're inside my mind asksjsisnsk but really, this idea wouldn't leave me alone today. I said over on discord I wanted conflict...

Collins breaks about sixteen weeks into his service. It's the first time he loses his nerve, regrettably, because he lets his new wingmate buy him one too many drinks. He's just trying to make a good impression, Jack knows, but he doesn't care for it. Not when Tony got shot down only yesterday and he's been grounded on account of it.

So he can mourn.

Fuck that.

He's only thinking about it more, now that he doesn't have to fly and the day seems never-ending. He lets the new cadet take him out for drinks only because Farrier isn't around.

There's a Royal Artillery regiment off duty occupying half the tables, and Collins almost turns on his heels and heads back to base when he sees their soft-brown uniforms all over the place. But Robert goes on, none the wiser, and Collins has no choice but to follow suit being the older, more experienced one and all.

In the end, it's the rookie who keeps his cool against the harsh words and teasing and Collins the one being held back.

"Oi, pretty boy!"

It's late and he's tired and Robert has money to spare and he keeps leaving pints in front him.

"Yeah, you in blue, why doncha buy us a round?"

"You gotta be joking!" Robert laughs, half-turning on his seat next to Jack at the bar, wearing his pristine new uniform that looks like was unboxed just this afternoon. He's a perfect target for worn-out soldiers temporarily off the line. Collins is already drunk and their presence at his back set his teeth on edge.

"Why? Your lot sit there all day long while we do your bloody job, seems right t'me you'd show a bit of gratitude, right boys?!"

Jack sets another glass softly on the counter and locks eyes with the bartender that looks at him like he's the one stirring up the pot. It's the only reason why he turns his head towards his chatty companion and mutters: "leave it," because the old man is kind enough to accommodate them every time they come round and lets them run a tab.

Robert scans his unfriendly frown and slowly sits back down on the stool, sending Jack a furtive glance.

That would've been the end of it.

"Look at that, not even me mum's got boots as shiny as yours," this voice is closer, and it's a different one.

"Fuck off," Collins mutters under his breath, hand wrapped around his half-empty pint and itching to turn around and bash the idiot's head in.

"What?"

Now he gives him the courtesy of turning around and standing up to say it to his face.

"I said fuck off, I see yer bleedin' deaf as well as thick."

He likes to think it wasn't his words that set it in motion, but the little chuckle Robert couldn't suppress right next to him.

What's-his-name, with his perfectly gelled-up hair and an unbuttoned khaki shirt, sends the new cadet a killer look and Collins wishes he'd gone for it, right there. He wishes he'd gone for his mate so he would've been able to blame his actions on the undying stupid rivalry between Army and Air Force. But he doesn't make a move towards Robert, and instead gives Jack a once-over and a sneer.

"Why don't you sit back down?" he offers, with a mellowy voice that makes Collins' blood boil, "you look like you're about to fall."

To his credit, Jack is swaying on his feet, except that's also the same reason why the cocky gunner ends up with a bleeding nose just two minutes after.

"That's what you get paid for, after all!" is the last straw, a high-pitched mocking voice coming from the sea of men that Collins can't really pinpoint, "t'keep your sorry ass down on a chair."

What comes next is more missed blows on Collins' part than he'd like to admit and more blood on his face and collar than he'd like to explain. Robert comes out unscathed save for a crinkled uniform when some by-stander had the sense to keep him out of the ruckus, but he doesn't stop babbling all the way back to headquarters.

Collins only hears half of it, mind too foggy by an ache both physical and emotional, and bites his tongue one or two times when he turns to acknowledge the boy's existence and sees the face of his dead wingmate instead.

Farrier finds him two hours later, lying on his upper bunk bed in full uniform except for his jacket, which he briefly had the sense to hang before climbing up. Collins hears him come in, close the door and approach, but doesn't move.

He stares at the wall and breathes slowly through the mind-nulling pain taking over, feeling a sore cheek and a lip cut open and thinking that he deserves it, that it grounds him, that it keeps the thought of Tony's silence through the intercom and the sight of his Spitfire hitting the water with a distant thud away.

Was he dead by then? Did he die in the air, or was he conscious all the way down, unable to do anything to stop it? Collins hopes one of those bullets got to him. He knows that's how he'd rather go down if it came to it. When it comes to it.

"What happened?"

Collins stays still and pretends he's not there.

It's not very difficult to imagine, really, because Farrier is never around lately. It's probable that the only thing that brought him up to his room at this hour was Robert's big mouth, surely going on about his new mentor standing up to a room full of soldiers, drunk and out for blood like a fucking lunatic.

Perhaps a little less self-deprecating account of it. More on the heroic side, because Robert's got that naive look about him. Collins hates to think of it: that it is probably a foreshadowing image of what's to happen once he goes up in the air and has a fucking nazi on his tail.

"Collins," Farrier calls again with a quiet voice. Jack feels one of his hands coming to rest behind him on the mattress, like he wants to place it on his waist instead and turn him over but doesn't dare, "you can talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about."

More silence.

A sigh.

"Don't ya have somewhere else to be, anyway?"

He feels like a dick the moment he says it.

Luckily for him, Farrier isn't so easily swayed. That same hand finally lands on his left shoulder and tugs insistently until he's turning on his back - when he does, Farrier takes a deep breath in, those ones he takes when he wants to lash out at someone but swallows his words instead.

Collins isn't sure he likes that look of anger directed at him, but he stares back defiantly because the influence of alcohol isn't completely gone and because he hates Farrier being this persistent.

Green eyes survey every inch of his battered face and if they stop for a moment too long on his lips, Collins pretends he doesn't notice. Farrier winces and then runs a hand over his face and looks away, again biting his tongue to prevent himself from talking.

Jack wants him to talk, wants him to tell him off so he can answer.

"Come down," Farrier asks, taking a step back from the bed and making a hand-gesture that is a bit too authoritarian for Jack's taste. He half-wants to hop off the bed, stand to attention, make a salute and bark out a yes, sir! only to annoy him, "Collins, don't be a child. Come down and get that shirt off before it's unsalvageable."

His irritation bleeds heavily through the words this time and when Collins looks back at him from the top bunk, he does feel like a little boy being told off.

He only sits up, yanks his tie off, takes his shirt off above his head without unbuttoning it and knowing full well he's only beating up a hornet's nest, makes it into a ball and throws it at Farrier's face with force.

Only then does he jump off and land in front of him.

"Anything else?" he asks through gritted teeth, as Farrier holds the shirt to his chest and looks at him the same way he looked at that gunner back at the pub.

But he stays silent. Farrier doesn't take a step forward and punches him in the face like he did to that poor sod. The annoyance gives place to something else and Collins doesn't know what to do when Farrier doesn't move, because he'd been counting on him turning around and striding off after that outburst.

And he needs him to, quick, because there's a lump forming down his throat.

"No?" he asks, shaking his head, confrontational.

Farrier just stares at him, his poker face the antithesis of Jack's. He only sniffs, crosses his arms on his chest and shifts his weight on his feet comfortably, like he's planning on just staying there standing guard.

Collins feels like he walked right into his trap. Can't climb back up now, show him his back and stare at the wall and ignore him until he gives up and leaves.

"Are you done?" Farrier asks when he looks away.

He doesn't give an answer and sits on his roommate's made-up bed instead because he can't feel the chilly air down there as much.

He probably should wash that shirt before the crimson red becomes a permanent stain, if only to avoid being told off by his superiors. He really doesn't find it in him to care for a stupid blood-spluttered collar when Tony's dead, he's dead.

Farrier sits next to him and brings a damp cloth to his lip without warning. Jack flinches away before he notices it's only his handkerchief soaked in water and has the decency to turn towards him this time, the will to put up a fight all but gone.

"I'm sorry..." he starts, trying to get the words out but failing.

"It's alright."

"No," he chokes out, "sorry."

Farrier presses the wet cloth softly above the cut on his brow and looks him in the eye with honesty.

"No need to be."

Collins disagrees, but he stays still for a couple of seconds and lets Farrier slowly wipe the dried blood off his skin with the utmost care and tries to think only of this moment.

"That's a nasty bruise," Farrier says, conversationally as if the silence makes him uncomfortable and the close space between them makes him nervous.

Jack doesn't trust himself to open his mouth without bursting out crying in his face, so he doesn't say anything and just avoids his gaze again.

The silence stretches on for another minute.

"All done."

He bolts upright soon as Farrier is off his personal space and makes for the metal wardrobe in the corner to fish for a tank top, because it's that time of day when the sun is completely gone and he may as well have an early night in.

Anything to get Thomas off his hair.

"Thanks," he throws over his shoulder, tugging at his belt hoping that's enough of a dismissal for Farrier, "I'll wash that shirt," he adds, noncommittally.

Farrier stays there for another quarter of a minute.

"Yeah, you do that."

When the door closes behind him Collins braces himself against the wardrobe and holds onto it until his knuckles go white, feeling like he can't take enough air in.

#i know i have two more suggestions on the discord #but honestly this was so spot on i couldn't let it pass #i just wanted collins to punch someone okay 😂😂#also i couldn't really come up with a better ending so #i gave up #i hate unresolved comfort but inspiration just ran off you know #so i'll leave you with a grieving collins instead haha you're welcome.#dunkirk #dunkirk fanfic #dunkirk fanfiction #dunkirk 2017 #flyboys #pilot husbands #collins #farrier #collins/farrier #farrier/collins #farrier x collins #collins x farrier

23 notes · View notes

gildedmuse · 4 years ago

Text

Anonymous asked:

do you like any of the one piece manga colorspreads? if yes, which ones?

(Apparently you cannot answer questions more than once which seems like a flaw. People can always change their mind.

Let's see, where did I leave off? Oh that's right. the Strawhats are a acid punk rock band now . So the obvious next step is...

Devil Fruit's Angels

That's right, in this universe the Strawhats aren't marauders of the sea. They're marauders of the open road.

Look at this badass biker gang. And I'm not abbreviating for motorcycles. Luffy heard there were such a thing as a biker gang and took it very literally. Best of all, he got eight people to go along with this.

Eventually, he accidentally tore the bottom wheel rim from his bike, the Going Merry, but then they met Franky and since he was unaware of Luffy's stupidity innocence at this time, he built him an actual damn motorcycle. Zoro painted the sidecar to look like a shark (okay technically Usopp did the painting and Zoro bitched about it but he loves it if anyone scratches that paint job they immediately find themselves with their blades in their face). He just lays there, sleeping, sometimes doing weights while letting Luffy drive a fucking motorcycle.

Love that Nami weighed up her choices and her and Robin decide to ride with Usopp. Let's face it, he is easily the most responsible rider. Well, that's why Nami choose him. Chopper has two designated seats: Usopp's basket and Zoro's lap. So of course Robin has to sit where she can see Chopper.

Also, LOOK HOW FUCKING CUTE CHOPPER IS IN A BASKET.

Brook seems to be riding a penny farthing which is pretty amazing. He probably just had one in his garage from his youth. Sanji has wisely decided to ride backwards bitchseat so that smoke doesn't fly back in his own face. I am unable to see what Franky is driving. I assume his bottom half turns into a motorcycle. I mean why not?

The Strawhat Gang does pretty much the exact same shit they do as Pirates. I mean, Luffy even falls into water just as often. How? It's Luffy that's how.

Law's little group of anarchist ride around in a yellow Volkswagen Beetle. Fight me.

Winter Wonder Island

IS THAT PENGUIN WEARING ZORO'S HARAMAKI? HOW DID HE GET IT? DIES ZORO KNOW? DID HE GIVE OT TO HIM? DID ZORO THINK THE PENGUIN'S BELLY MIGHT BE COLD?

I love Nami and Chopper playing, though Chopper looks less pleased. Plus the polar bear and Luffy are just the same person/bear. And nothing can convince me Robin isn't currently getting a back massage by a walrus. That is how my bitch roles.

The Straw Helmets

And we're back to the AUs.

Total honesty time: I picked this less put of love (though I enjoy most the AU ones) and more to annoy a friend.. See, I know many a Norwegian. They are a super nice country, you guys.

Who get super pissed at popular depictions of Vikings. Which are wrong.

And yet this particular reimagining is so wrong it's like gone full circle. I mean it's still nowhere near accurate but damn is it awesome. Are they riding walruses? Oda knows the Vikings had horses, right? And reindeer?

And yet he's gone with the well known domestic walrus. Huh. It's a choice.

Honestly, Franky and Usopp's costumes look more gladiator than Viking (also, I know you are a pervert Franky, but you literally gonna die of hypothermia.) Chopper is apparently one of those famous Japaness Vikings based on his costume design while Luffy is wearing something I can 100% imagine Doflamingo owned at some point. And Zoro....

Well, there is a reason I have a tag called Zoro's sense of direction and/or fashion. Look at that thing. That is a mess. I love it.

Get Wet

Nami, babe, me, Brook, Sanji, and apparently Robin a appreciate how sexy you're being right now.

But all I see is Zoro's damn fine back with water forming little riblets around his muscles. Also, love the boy's smile as he watches Luffy. He totally knows what's about to go down and thinks it's fucking hilarious.

They Call It The Grand Line

Every member of the coward trio (plus guest member Brook) is freaking the fuck out and I love it. Chopper and Nami are cling to one another, Brook's soul has left his body, and I'm pretty certain Usopp has half climbed into the seat in front of him to grab Zoro. Which I cannot blame him for.

Meanwhile, Robin is watching this whole spectacle with mild amusement, Sanji is straight up grilling... While on the back of a rollar coaster, Franky is chowing down on some of that food and Zoro... Zoro is getting drunk. On a rollar coaster.

The only one who seems to be having any fun is Luffy, sitting, of course, on his special seat. Look at that kid, he's having a blast. Well now we know how all the other Strawhats ended up here.

A Game Of Chicken

There's a lot I could say about this picture, but all I'm going to say is this: Zoro is clearly riding a weird ass chocobo.

What else can beat that?

Pirate Olympics: Where Everyone Is Winner Wanted Man

Oh, look, it's another AU one!

Look, over all, everyone has a sport that is either well suited to them (except maybe Brook. I mean soccer? Really? Not, like short distance sprinting since he's the fastest strawhat or fencing? If it were winter he could participate in the skeleton - yohohoho!).

Let's just amire Zoro playing baseball THREE BAT STYLE. LIke a goddamn boss.

You Know What's Awesome? Drugs.

It doesn't even matter what's going on in this one, it's goddamn beautiful.

Just Another Sunny Day

[You know when I said I haven't read the manga yet? Well, also terrible with visual images - the world should be in words in my opinion. So this, it turns out, is not a colorspread but fanart by the very talented Frayten who I deeply apologize to for not crediting earlier. I'm keeping it though, because it's amazing art, it's been reblogged and at least now it's properly credit on the main post. Many thanks to @blueriza to for being a better fan than I am.]

I really enjoy this little switch up. I want to believe it isn't just Law fucking with them but they've all inhaled some kind of mind switching pollen of something. So one day Law just came out to find Robin making breakfast and heart eyes at all the men, Sanji eating nothing but meet and bouncing around like he was made of rubber, Franky trying to play the violin, Chopper taling wild stories about when he was captain, Usopp training for a couple hours before passing out, Brook worrying over everyone's health, Nami striking posed while talking about how SUPER it all is, and Luffy, for once in his life, perfectly calm as he sits there reading.

That would be hilarious but, yeah, obviously it was Law. Look at how Nami Zoro is threatening him. She know exactly who pulled this shit. And look at Law's smug little smirk.

Hey, you suppose Law flirted with Nami Zoro? I know it's Nami but she's still got Zoro's abs and ass. Just throwing that out there.

#the strawhats with heart #ask and you shall receive #one piece manga #one piece colorspread #one piece crossover #trafalgar d. water law #trafalgar law #roronoa zoro #cyborg franky #monkey d. luffy #tony tony chopper #nico robin #sanji vinsmoke #nami #usopp #one piece #one piece au

180 notes · View notes

anika-ann · 4 years ago

Text

Errare Humanum Est - Pt.20

Feel You Closer

Type: series, soulmate AU series (part 1, part 2) x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 3900

Summary: You remember. It’s time you reacquainted with your soulmate.

That’s what you should do, right? Just feel him as close to you as possible.

Warnings: swearing, 18+, nsfw, very light D/s, so much fluff

A/N: Yeah, there’s minimum plot (a bit at the beginning, read that if you want to avoid the explicit chapter and still want to understand what stunt ‘Nat’ will pull next chapter)

A/N 2: Me: I’m not a smut writer. Also me: two last fics/chapters posted on tumblr being explicit. Oops.

Story masterlist ༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

You walked to the room hand in hand, unseen and unheard. Besides Jarvis, of course, but you didn’t even count him anymore. After the many times you had stayed in the Tower, you grew even fond of him. He really was programmed to be sassy, just like his creator, and sass was a language you spoke.

The idea hit you with the snap of the door and you instantly burst into giggles. Steve casted a curious, but warm gaze at your schoolgirl-like fit.

“Tony doesn’t know,” you explained, only to see no understanding dawning on Steve’s face. “He doesn’t know I remember. I have a very strong need to mess with him, even though we had a nice talk.”

“…you had a nice talk?” Steve asked, bewildered. Looking back at it, you were a bit surprised too – but then again, you weren’t. Tony was much more than he let on.

“Uh-uh. Yeah. I asked him about me. About us.”

A shadow of hurt fell on Steve’s face and you realized what it looked like, you seeking another man.

“It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you!” you blurted out immediately, seeing clearly that it didn’t convince him. “I just wanted a different opinion on me. You’re a bit… biased.”

The frown on his face smoothened, the pool of sadness in his eyes gradually vanishing. Instead, his brows lifted along with one corner of his lips.

“Biased?”

“Yep. You were all waxing poetic about me, how amazing I was. I wanted a second opinion, because I knew for sure I… wasn’t… that… that perfect,” you trailed off as Steve’s smile grew wider and wider with each word. “What?”

“And you decided to go to Tony of all people?”

You were surprised by that question. Steve was usually more the one to dwell on you actually being amazing and astounding and stuff, fast to assure you when he spotted only a trace of self-consciousness on you. Not today, apparently, as he focused on the fact you went to the child of a man in the flying suit. You grinned, not minding a bit.

“…that’s fair. But cut me some slack, he looked like he’d be the one to speak openly.”

Steve gave a short laugh, amused twinkle in his eyes. The change in him ever since he had learned you remembered was so stark you couldn’t tear you gaze away. It was mesmerizing – now, his smiles and laughter radiated true happiness.

“That I can’t argue with. Now, what kind of messing around are we talking about?”

At that, you smirked. “Your clothes. I wanna wear your clothes and I need Jarvis to tell me exactly what comment Tony and Clint made when I first entered the kitchen wearing your stuff.”

You might have had more than one goal when saying this. It wasn’t just to cause Tony a fit later… you might want to nudge Steve’s fantasy, knowing all too well what his clothes on you symbolized and how much he enjoyed you wearing them despite denying it till his last breath.

His eyes did grow rounder, much to your satisfaction. You bit your lip, attempting to hide the smirk battling to show on your face for a whole different reason now.

“Maybe throw a bit of foul language in?” you continued and Steve closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. “Just imagine his face – me, walking in, him wanting to comment and me encouraging him, talking about how I actually got thoroughly fucked the previous evening.”

“Every time,” Steve grunted and you tilted your head in wonder, the grin wining the fight and finding its way on your face.

“Mm?”

Steve’s eyes snapped open, black as night, his irises barely visible. Ohhh, this was even better than you had imagined.

“Every time I think I know just how much trouble you are…” he rasped, taking a step closer, forcing you to walk backwards, your back hitting the door after only two steps, effectively trapping you between his frame and the hard surface, an inch between your bodies remaining.

Your breathing ragged as if on command, heart speeding up in anticipation. Steve’s hands rose, palms resting by your head at each side, his face leaning to yours. Your teeth released your lower lip in order to wet it with your tongue, drawing Steve’s gaze like a magnet. Your breath hitched when his lips stayed so painfully close you could feel the heat but didn’t touch, your eyes fluttering close at the sensation. God, your belly was already burning.

“…you always prove me wrong…” he hummed, brushing your lips with his own. You nearly whined when he parted almost instantly and you intended to follow, only for Steve to have your hair trapped in one of his hands to make sure you stayed put. That simple gesture caused your underwear to dampen. “Talking like that when you’re injured and you know nothing can happen.”

His mouth moved to shower your chin and throat with attention, torturously light touches, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Your knees buckled, Steve’s hand quick to catch you, squeezing you between his body and the door to keep you upright.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about. You can barely stand. I wouldn’t want to hurt you,” he mumbled to your throat, but honestly, he didn’t sound convincing in the slightest. More like—more like the opposite actually. He even sounded… demanding?

Did he really start a game now? A little role-play? That’s new.

“But… but I was cleared to leave medical,” you whispered, testing the waters, earning a satisfied grunt.

Oh god, this was happening. There had been glimpses of this before, the dominance; you were pretty sure Steve enjoyed it mostly because of how underestimated he had been before the serum, but the reason didn’t quite matter. It was important that he liked it and you never minded when it showed a little. Now though… oh boy.

“That’s true,” he mused, tickling the side of your neck with his warm breath. “And I was left to take care of you… in charge of your treatment. What only will I do with you, doll?”

Powerplay. This was a powerplay and given how much you trusted Steve, knowing he wouldn’t actually hurt you when playing, you were totally on board.

The pool of wetness on your underwear only confirmed it.

Steve’s hand urged you to answer, squeezing your hip. Your whole body tingled, a tiny whimper escaping you.

You just needed him close now. With all the madness that had happened, there was nothing you needed more than to feel his body on yours, his hands, his lips, his everything, just to know you two were.

“Anything you want,” you breathed and Steve’s hips thrust forward, deliciously adding friction between your bodies. He was hard as rock and you had a pretty good idea what would make him even harder. You were saving it for now… soon, though.

He raised his head, facing you again, his hand releasing your hair in order to run the pad of his thumb over your lower lip, watching the motion as if hypnotized.

“Anything, you say? That’s quite daring, doll…”

This was it. This was the time.

You peeked at him from under your eyelashes as your tongue kitten-licked his thumb. He didn’t even flinch, but you knew he would at your next words.

“Anything, sir.”

It was his turn to whimper, his hips bucking again, his mouth smacking to yours, both of his hands falling to your waist.

“God, I missed you so much, all of you. Are you sure you’re okay?” he whispered urgently before devouring your mouth again, nearly breathing you in with the vigour. “Tell me and I stop.”

You grabbed his shoulders, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

“I missed you too. And yes. All yours… sir.”

“Christ, woman!”

His palms took handfuls of your backside firmly and your giddy giggle got lost in the moan you both let out, swallowed by the other, your hips moving in synch.

Out of blue, he grabbed your wrists, pinning them to your sides, the display of strength once again sending a thrill through your body.

“Keep them here until I give you the permission to move, okay?” he ordered, the low timbre of his voice striking something right inside your core.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what, doll?” he coaxed, voice deliciously dark.

Oh wow, just wow. You were pretty sure your core just started throbbing.

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s right,” he praised, taking your mouth again, wordlessly asking for access, though more demanding than usual. You parted your lips, welcoming his tongue as he swept it along your teeth and then met yours.

The order he had given you was way harder than you anticipated; keeping your hands to yourself while his own roamed your body, guiding your hips to meet his for more friction and making your body feel like floating in a sea of pleasure, cupping your breasts… his mouth was taking yours as if his life depended on it, breathing you in and nibbling, retreating only to suck at your neck just when you wanted him, needed him kissing you on your lips… it was the sweetest torture. You craved for his mouth and all you had to do was to touch him and pull him back to you.

But you weren’t allowed.

“Hands up,” he hissed, already tugging at your shirt before you registered what he asked you to do. Your body obeyed automatically, but with delay. Steve didn’t seem to mind, his skilful fingers finding the opening of your bra instead of simply waiting. Before you knew it, your torso was bare, your chest peppered with kisses and a mark sucked under your collarbone.

“Steve…” escaped your lips, your hands twitching, refusing to return to your sides, finding his muscles instead.

He hummed discontentedly, guiding them back to stay along the wall. You couldn’t but whine.

“Please.”

“Please what?” he whispered to your skin and you nearly banged the back of your head against the wall, stopping the last half-inch away. You had hit your head, after all.

“Please, sir. Can I…” Your own breathy moan interrupted your plea when he licked at your nipple. Christ, Steve. “Can I touch you?”

“Mmm…” he hummed, the vibration making the worst and the best things to your brain. You were completely at his mercy and you didn’t even care. Hell, you were enjoying it, but God, you needed to feel his body under your hands. “Not yet.”

The mewl that left your lips was borderline embarrassing, more so since Steve’s mouth left your breast and soothed you with a sweet and dirty kiss, your tongues tangling together.

“Just a little longer. Let me appreciate you, doll. You’re so, so pretty…”

His hot breath, soft lips and a dart of a tongue trailed down your front, one of his hand easily slipping under the hem of your jeans, while the other already worked on the button and tugged them to your knees. He kneeled, glancing up at you with a wicked smile as he stripped them completely with only a little help.

Steve guided your left leg over his shoulder and this time the noise you made was utterly embarrassing, a blend of a squeak, a moan and a whimper and Jesus fucking Christ. He didn’t even get his mouth on you, just the anticipation enough to flood your core. You knew how good he was at that and just the thought-

“Oh, doll, you’re soaking…”

Something in you wanted to snark that yes, you noticed, but another voice, the one that was ridiculously enjoying this game, shut the urge up and whispered another words for you to say.

“Y-yes, sir. Because of you,” your voice trembled slightly and when he looked up at you from his filthy position again, lop-sided smirk on his handsome and usually so innocent face, you were done for.

His finger ran up your slit, making you flinch and bite your lip.

“And just what should I do about it, mm…” he kissed your inner thigh, giving you a very good idea as if you hadn’t had one before. “Would you like me to take care of it? Use my tongue?”

He. Was. So. Fucking. Filthy. And. Mouthy.

And you should feel humiliated at responding him, but you didn’t. You loved it.

“Please… sir,” you breathed out, which gained you another kiss, higher this time, just below the waistline of your panties, one finger looping in them; a sharp tug and they were gone, making you gasp.

“Since you said ‘please’… but you’re gotta watch, doll, alright?”

You gulped. You weren’t sure you were able to do that. You’d come in seconds.

Still, you nodded.

“Speak up, my sweet girl...”

“Yes, sir.”

The first lap of his tongue caused your fists to clench with the need to hold onto something. Anything. His hair looked suitable enough, just like his free shoulder. You chewed on your lower lip.

As if hearing your thoughts, he led your hands to hold onto him. It was bliss – and a freaking reassurance, because you really didn’t want to fall. Not that he would ever let you, but better be sure.

You could barely stand and you couldn’t stand it. The sight of Steve devouring you like this, bringing indescribable pleasure tingling in every cell of your body with his clever tongue was too much. He didn’t even need to use his fingers, finding spots to drive you insane just by licking at them.

You came with a breathy cry, your pulse loud in your ears and with your legs getting wobbly at instant; you were lucky he held you so firmly. He sucked on your clit, sending shocks through your already overwhelmed body, forcing you to moan his name and arch your back. He worked you through it, alternating between praises and soothing your weepy core, slowly driving you down.

You couldn’t fucking speak. Your eyes snapped open when he shifted, lowering your leg back to the ground, placing a kiss under your navel.

“You good?” he rasped and it took a lot of effort to actually reply instead of simply nodding.

“Yes.” He waited. Right. “Sir.”

His big palms caressed your hips, kissing the skin there.

“Feel like returning the favour, doll?” he asked, voice sultry as much as his gaze.

He would have looked innocent, peeking at you from under his eyelashes like that, but his blown irises gave his arousal away. And you knew better than that, very well-aware of where is mouth had just been.

“Be a good girl like that?” he added, causing the air catch in your throat despite your breathing raging.

How was such praise striking something in you, making you want to do anything just to hear it again? Was this just him or did you have a kink you hadn’t been aware of?

It didn’t matter now. You needed to turn off your brain and enjoy this fully.

“If-if that’s what you want, sir,” you stuttered, his forehead resting against your abdomen at the statement. It brought a satisfied smile to your face – perhaps you weren’t the only one who was a little overwhelmed. You stroked his scalp gently. “Anything to please you.”

He let out a choked noise, rising to his feet at instant, his mouth catching yours in a sweet and salty kiss, his unmistakable jeans-cladded hard rocking into your heat.

“Mouthy, aren’t you? Get on your knees, doll,” he ordered as he spun you, suddenly him being the one with his back against the wall.

You obediently slid down and he lost the shirt that was crying for help on his muscled body anyway. It was a mouth-watering sight even from down there. You wordlessly asked for permission to undo his belt, having it granted. You released him from both, his pants and boxers, his erection springing free. Shit, you almost forgot how big he was.

Steve’s hand tenderly slipped into your hair, guiding you to look up. You were surprised when you saw the fraction of concern in his eyes, a question perhaps, breaking the character he had seemed to slide into rather easily.

The pool of warmth in your chest at the gesture was as unexpected as the act itself. Was it strange, perhaps cowardly of you, that you loved he kept checking with you just to make sure that everything he did was alright with you? Did it make you unadventurous and boring that the fact he showed you every now and then that you could trust him completely, was the biggest turn-on of all?

You smiled at him shyly, the simple lift of the corners of your lips reciprocated instantly. The pad of his thumb swept over your lower lip, sending a shiver down your spine.

‘Anything to please you,’ your own words echoed in your head, resonating with truth. You loved him. You did want to make him happy so badly, as much as you knew he wanted you to be.

You kissed the tip of his member, soon taking him between your lips. His hand never released your hair, though his eyelids fluttered shut, shameless moan of satisfaction escaping him. It only encouraged you.

Steve wouldn’t let you finish him and what an early finish would it have been. He pulled your head away, tugging you upright and locking your mouths in a kiss as his hand did the job for you. You would have been confused and maybe even hurt by that action, but you knew him. You knew that no matter what game he was playing, he needed to be certain you would be alright.

“Didn’t want you to strain yourself,” he breathed into your mouth, his voice trembling with aftershock, sucking gently on your lips, his arm wrapped around your waist securely to hold you close with little care for how sticky you both were now thanks to his release.

“I know,” you whispered back, meeting his gaze in a haze, the affection for you written all over his face hitting you like a train. “I love you.”

“And I love you. More than you’ll ever know.”

A teasing smile tucked at the corner of your lips. “Show me? Please, sir?”

He choked out a laugh, his hold getting stronger on you, something poking your stomach as it came back to life.

“Troublemaker, doll. That’s what you are,” he hummed, grinning with a delicious mixture of sweet and intense, like dark chocolate. His not so clean hand cupped your bottom and one of his long fingers teased around your still dripping core. His nose nuzzled your hair, his lips brushing your earlobe with a filthy whisper. “I might have to fuck that cheekiness out of you.”

You gulped at that promise delivered in such foul language, your heart pounding in your chest right against his. Yes, please. It might help with the headache that was slowly beginning to bother you once more.

“Looking forward to it… sir.”

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Steve clearly felt adventurous, indulging the dominance and the power he held and you gladly let him, knowing the reward would – uh – come in the end. You lost count on how many times he brought you to the very edge only to let you descend again, never letting you tip over and fall. The orgasm that followed when he finally did, your walls clenching around him like a vice, was something you had never experienced before and that said something, considering Steve had been your lover for some time now. It felt like sparkles exploded in every single cell of your body, pounding with never-ending bliss, his cock throbbing in you and sending another flare through your body like in a vicious circle.

Apparently, you had been in Heaven once – and right now, Steve surely gave you a taste of what was it like, because there could not be another explanation. The afterglow was so warm and wonderful you basked in it for God knew how long.

When you finally came back to yourself, Steve’s fingers were tenderly threading in your hair, his lips on your temple. Your eyes fluttered open, causing him to stop and search your face with attentive eyes as he kept himself propped on his elbow.

“Hey, doll, are you okay?” he fussed softly, his breathing back to normal. He was still sporting an adorable flush down his face and chest, an evidence of the effort made and the satisfaction that followed.

“Yeah. This was… wow.”

“Yeah?” he grinned, wounding up a strand of your hair around his finger. His eyes were sparkling and you kinda wanted to slap his chest for the flash of smugness. Instead, you slapped him verbally and very much playfully.

“Yes, sir,” you returned the wide smile and he huffed, falling to your side. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Ugh, don’t start again.”

“I’d like to start again… some other time,” you admitted, hopeful your face was still flushed from before, hence not giving away the embarrassment at your admission. “I liked this.”

Steve embraced you firmly, kissing your shoulder. “So did I… maybe too much. You’re sure I didn’t hurt you?”

“Nope. Not at all,” you replied cheerily, casting a reassuring gaze aimed straight to his eyes as your voice softened. “You’re always careful, Steve, I know that. And I appreciate it.”

“Alright, then. Let’s revisit this sometime. You’re amazing, doll,” he whispered your favourite endearment like music on his lips. “ I love you. I can’t—I can’t even say how happy I am to have you here. Back with me. Stay?”

The sudden vulnerability almost made your heart stop with the ache, the agony he must have experienced after losing you – but how amazing it actually was, mean of you maybe, but God, he had missed you so much, because he loved you so deeply already – striking you precisely to your very soul. You were right there with him when it came to feelings.

It dawned to you why he would enjoy the feeling of dominance now of all the times you had made love – it gave him an illusion of control over something. What had happened to you, the kidnapping, the bombs, your death… he didn’t have control over that. When the Winchesters had brought you back, there weren’t many things he could do about your amnesia either, leaving him helpless. You had a hunch he felt like having zero control over things for a while now.

This, this incredible experience gave him what he had been craving. You couldn’t fault him for wanting that, more so when you enjoyed it so immensely. After all, both of you were only human in the end.

Only humans. Soulmates. Souls redefined, never the same after merging into one, yet maintaining their singularity. Still better together, gravitating one towards the other too strongly to be kept apart.

You stretched your neck so your lips could reach Steve’s forehead, a loving and caring gesture, comfort he often offered you. The action made him chuckle, an unusual watery sound as tears welled in his eyes as well as in yours.

You lingered for several moments, your eyes finding his then, fond glassy gaze with emotions too heavy to be carried only by one person. You were good at it together though. You softly kissed his lips and then wiggled against him, settling in his arms comfortably, trying to nestle against him in a way that wouldn’t leave an inch between your bodies – and Steve happily assisted you.

“I love you too, Steve. And there’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Part 21

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Well. Now I’m blushing. This was self-indulgent to a fault.

Hope you liked it, this had been the first time I wrote something with hints of D/s (rememebr, only proofreadng and reposting ao3 chapters, this is almost a ear old), even when playful, so I pray I didn’t muff it up too much :)) I couldn’t leave the fluff behind, obviously.

Two chapters and an epilogue left. Thank you for making it this far and thank you even more if you’re interacting in an way :-*

65 notes · View notes