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brokenmenswhore · 5 months ago

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potions | regulus black

pairing: regulus black x fem!reader

summary: regulus invites his potions partner over to his family home to “help her practice”

warnings: DUBCON (MDNI 18+), choking, smut, rough sex

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When Regulus invited you into his home to use his in-house potions lab, you were suspicious. Regulus always had a darkness to him, and as your potions partner, he was never cruel to you, but he wasn’t the type to make such a kind gesture.

You accepted, knowing you could really use the extra practice. Regulus was talented at potions, and you felt bad that you were barely any help in class. As strange as it may be, you figured some extra time would benefit you, and Regulus could teach you and thing or two, if he felt kind enough to do so.

“Come on in,” he said, gesturing you through the door.

You smiled as you followed him through the house, the lighting almost as dark as his all-black outfit.

“I keep my potions stuff in here,” he said, pushing open the door to his bedroom.

“In your bedroom?”

“Mhm,” he responded, completely nonchalant about the fact you were in his personal space, while you felt it was a little strange. You didn’t know him too well, though you were attracted to him, and now you were only a few feet away from his bed.

He walked over to the table. “You coming?”

You swallowed and approached him, looking at the large collection of jars and ingredients spread out on the table.

“Should we maybe let your parents know I’m here? That there’s someone else in the house?”

Regulus chuckled. “The only other person here is my brother.”

“Sirius is here?”

Regulus shot you a look. You and Sirius had a weird past- you hooked up a few times at parties, you caught feelings and he didn’t, and you never spoke again. It was all ancient history, but you still tried to avoid being around him at all costs.

“Why does it matter?” Regulus asked.

“It doesn’t,” you spoke in a small voice, drifting your attention to the table, “so? What first?”

“Figured we could maybe just make sure you’re set on ingredients,” Regulus said. Everything he said was so dry, low, and monotone, and it sometimes made conversation hard.

“I think I’m comfortable with the ingredients side of things,” you told him.

“You’re not.”

You furrowed your brow and looked at him. “Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes I am!” you fought, “I know my own skill levels, Regulus.”

“I don’t think you do.”

He was so nonchalant about everything, reorganizing ingredients and setting up potion recipes as he spoke, as if anything he said didn’t matter.

You sighed and gave up fighting it, letting him take control and decide where to go from here. There was no point in going back and forth on the same thing over and over again.

“How about we just start with Shrinking Solution?” Regulus asked.

“Fine by me,” you answered.

Regulus backed away from the table, watching you do nothing. You looked back at him. Did he expect you to just do it?

“Well?” he said, “make the potion.”

You sighed. Sometimes he was so annoying and condescending. You looked at the unlabeled recipe and removed 7 red rose petals from a case of singular petals.

You began to drop them one-by-one in the boiling water. You looked at Regulus, who nodded at you to keep going. “How difficult,” you said sarcastically.

Remus folded his arms in front of his chest, watching you carefully.

You added five drops of essence of violet, stirring counterclockwise exactly twelve times.

“I don’t remember shrinking solution having essence of violet,” you told Regulus.

“Are you claiming my recipes are wrong?”

“No, I’m just saying.” You sighed and continued with the recipe, counting out 4 cloves and prepping canary flight feathers.

He didn’t say a word, just watching you make the potion, until you had completed the instructions.

“I also don’t remember it being pink,” you pouted, looking confused at the pot.

“I could have sworn this potion had daisy roots somewhere-“

“Would you relax?” Regulus questioned.

“Something just feels off about it,” you said, inspecting the liquid.

“Does it smell right?” he asked.

You leaned in and sniffed. The potion smelt like lavender, vanilla, freshly cut grass, and all your favorite smells.

The smell maintained throughout the smoke that you breathed in, overtaking your senses and filling your lungs. “Fuck that smells good,” you giggled.

Regulus crept behind you as silently as he could. When you stood up, he was directly behind you, your back almost banging into his torso.

You spun around to meet his gaze. “Can I help you with something?” you asked.

“I don’t know, can you?”

Your eyes locked for a moment, and you were suddenly overtaken with adoration.

“I think I probably can,” you said, all logic going out the window as the potion took over your emotions, your focus completely on Regulus.

“Atta girl,” he tsked, gripping your waist as he looked down at you. “How you feelin’, pretty girl?”

You were overcome with intense emotion, but you fought to remain grounded in reality. “You motherfucker,” you said, letting Regulus know that you were aware he had you make the wrong potion. This was not Shrinking Solution, this was Amortentia.

“No idea what you’re referring to,” he said.

“You know,” you started, twirling his already wavy hair in your fingers, “you could have just asked if you wanted me.”

“Now could I?” he asked, intrigued and eager to hear you continue talking.

“Mhm.”

“I thought I wasn’t your type.”

“Why?”

“You slept with my brother, did you not?”

Your eyes widened a bit. “And you know that how?”

“He’s my brother,” he said, holding you closer to him, his tone finally lifting to a bit lighter of a place, “and I’ve been keeping tabs on you.”

You giggled. “Have not.”

“I have been,” he admitted, “had to make sure you weren’t fucking anyone who didn’t deserve you.”

“I haven’t been fucking anyone,” you told him honestly.

“I know.”

“You wanna know why?”

His gaze darkened.

You sighed, “the only person I’ve wanted to fuck is standing right in front of me.”

Regulus growled, gripping your waist even harder and pulling you even closer. “Then what did I do all this work for? Getting you over here, the Amortentia, you’re telling me I worked for it for nothing?”

“Maybe,” you giggled, amused at how much thought and planning went into getting you here. You weren’t obvious about your attraction to him, but it couldn’t be that hard to notice.

“I feel drunk on you,” you admitted.

Regulus smiled. You had never ever seen him smile before. You didn’t even know he was capable.

“You’re so pretty when you smile,” you said genuinely, a hand moving upward so you could run a thumb over his cheek.

He couldn’t help himself anymore, he crashed his lips onto yours. Your hand found it’s way to the back of his head, holding him closer. You whimpered into the kiss, desperation overtaking your body. You couldn’t help it, the scent of the potion was still filling the room, and you were consumed in Regulus.

“I want you,” you said in between kisses, eager to finally get what you wanted.

Regulus didn’t break the kiss or loosen his grip on your waist, but instead inched you closer and closer to the bed. You felt the back of your knees hit the mattress, and you jumped up, attempting to land on the mattress, but Regulus caught you, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist.

He leaned over you, your back touching the mattress as you kept your legs around Regulus. He remained standing, the small of your back at the edge of the side of the bed.

Regulus finally broke the kiss, running his hands all over your body and inspecting every single inch of you. “I’m gonna make you scream so loud that Sirius will realize what he’s missing.”

You couldn’t help it, you started laughing. Your heightened emotions won, and the more you tried to stay quiet, the more hysterical your laugh became.

Regulus slapped your thigh. “What the fuck is so funny?”

“You.”

“Shut up,” Regulus demanded, kissing you to distract you from the hysterics in your brain. You melted back into him, forgetting why you were even laughing in the first place.

You were still having too much fun to let him win so easy, and you liked watching him work for it. “Make me.”

Regulus cocked his head to the side. “What did you just say?”

A giggle threatened to leave your lips. “I said make me.”

A hand suddenly squeezed around your throat, not completely cutting off your breath, but stopping your giggling.

Regulus flashed you a wicked smile. “That seemed to work, didn’t it?”

“Y-yes,” you squeaked out.

Regulus moved a hand in between your bodies, cupping your heat from on top of your underwear. You inhaled sharply, desperate for any sort of friction.

Regulus tucked his fingers into the band of your underwear, collecting your wetness with his middle finger as he traced it in between your folds. A sigh of pleasure escapes your lips, and Regulus watched your face intently.

You thought he was going to continue on like this, slowly working you up until you were ready for him, but Regulus had other ideas. Without warning, he shoved two long fingers inside of you, his palm resting on your clit and circling, as his fingers pumped in and out of you.

Your body responded, back arching off the bed, a hand still around your throat. You squirmed a bit, unable to stay still from the sensation.

Regulus watched your chest rise and fall as your back arched and fell, his cock hardening as he watched what he did to you.

He curled his fingers, hitting that gummy sweet spot within you, causing your walls to convulse around his fingers. “That’s it, pretty girl,” he cooed, “come for me.”

His words undid you, the coil of tension within you breaking as you came on his fingers, whines and whimpers constantly filling the room as you calmed down from your high. He pulled his fingers out of you, never breaking eye contact as he sucked your juices off of them.

Once his fingers were licked clean, he unwrapped your legs from his waist, removing his hand from your throat.

“Stay,” he commanded as he untied his pants, pushing them, along with his underwear, down enough to free his hard and swollen cock.

You let out an audible gasp at the size.

“What? Too much for you?”

“How-“ you didn’t even know what to say, “how is that gonna fit in me?”

“I think you’ll be fine, pretty girl.”

Regulus held his palm in front of your mouth. “Spit.”

You did as he said, and he used your spit to wet his cock, lining up his tip with your entrance.

“You want this?” he asked.

“Yes, Reg,” you replied.

Regulus almost showed you mercy when he heard the nickname, it just sounded so pretty coming from you, but he still didn’t. “Beg for it.”

You nodded your head no in protest.

A hand grabbed your face, pushing your lips out and positioning your head so that you had no choice but to look him in the eye. “Beg. For. It.”

“P-please, Regulus I n-“

Regulus slapped your cheek, hard. You gasped at the pain, almost stunned that he did such a thing.

“Use that pretty little nickname you called me.”

“Please, Reg, I need it, p-please-“

Regulus shoved his length into you, a moan of his name leaving your lips.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Regulus growled, setting a steady pace as he pumped in and out of you. He tugged at the bottom of your dress. “Off.”

You did your best to pull your dress off without interrupting his pace, struggling for a minute but eventually succeeding. Regulus leaned in and bit at your bra strap, snapping it back onto your body. He kisses the top of your breasts, shoving your nipples out of the cups, his tongue immediately sucking on one of them.

“Fuck!” you cried out, the pleasure of his mouth on your breasts and his cock splitting you open, and the scent of the potion still filled your nose, almost feeling like too much.

“Louder,” he demanded, serious when he said he would make you scream so loud that Sirius could hear you.

“Fuck, Reg!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, his pace quickening as you did so.

“Good girl,” he praised.

He sucked a sweet spot on your neck, your head rolling to the side to give him even more access.

He was slamming into you, the bed squeaking as your body rocked back and forth. Your legs were weak as they fell off the side of the bed, but Regulus didn’t want the position to change. He grabbed both of your legs, positioning them over his shoulders and fucking into you even deeper.

You squeaked and whined, not even capable of any genuine moans anymore.

“You gonna come again, huh? All over my cock?” Regulus gasped out.

“Mhm.”

“Words, pretty girl.”

“Y- yes!” you squealed, your high hitting you again as you squeezed his cock, a groan leaving Regulus’s mouth as he fucked you while you came, pace never faltering as you attempted to come down from your high.

Regulus was still chasing his own, his lips enveloping yours in a heated kiss as he snapped his hips as fast as he could until he came inside of you, erratic breaths and sighs spilling into the kiss.

“Fuck,” he said, running his fingers through his hair that was sweat slicked and falling in front of his face.

“God, I needed that,” you said, attempting to catch your breath as Regulus laid down next to you.

Regulus didn’t respond, he just stared at the ceiling, calming himself down.

“Reg?” you asked.

“Mhm?”

“You didn’t bring me here just to fuck me and piss your brother off, right?” you asked.

Regulus turned to you. “Do you think that low of me?”

“No. I’m just curious,” you explained.

“No, I didn’t bring you here to piss my brother off,” he answered, “it’s just a massive, massive plus.” He rolled over the placed a kiss on your lips.

#regulus black #regulus x y/n #regulus black x y/n #regulus black x reader #regulus x reader #regulus black imagines #regulus black fanfic #regulus black smut #marauders #marauders era #marauders era smut #marauders era fanfic #marauders era imagines

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ninetailedfoxmanchi · 26 days ago

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Mafia! BTS - They're Your One-Night Stand and They Fall for You (hyung line)

Warnings: mature NSFW content (18+) (p in v, f oral receiving), mention of virginity

MASTERLIST

You had a huge argument with your best friend over her toxic boyfriend and she decided that the two of you should take some time apart but you knew that was just her boyfriend talking. You've known each other for years and were so close that her words came as an absolute shock and broke your heart. That night you just wanted to forget everything and have a good time. You went to the club with some of your other friends and danced and had a few drinks. You were tipsy enough to make you feel braver than usual but not remotely enough that you didn't know what you were doing. You had never had a one-night stand before but everything is a first sometime.

Jin

You were dancing at the club although the music wasn't really that good. You didn't care, though; you just needed to stop thinking about losing your best friend and let out the anger that you felt towards her toxic boyfriend.

When you followed your friends to go to the ladies' room together, you bumped into a tall figure.

"I'm so sorry," you said over the loud music. It was dark and the club was crowded. Another person was trying to make their way past you and pushed you into the stranger with force. You yelped in surprise as you fell but the stranger steadied you against him.

"Are you alright?" asked the stranger's deep voice. You finally managed to look up, your faces only inches apart. He was so handsome that it nearly took your breath away. Your heart was beating wildly as you nodded but your eyes drifted to his lips instead. You had never done that before but that night you were feeling completely reckless. The stranger's eyes found your lips as well and you took your chance. You stepped on the tips of your toes and closed the space between the two of you. The stranger's hands moved from your arms down to your waist as he pulled you closer. The scent of his perfume gave you goosebumps. It was strong but elegant not like the cheap colognes of other guys.

Before you knew it, you found yourself in the young man's apartment. You only had time enough to find out that his first name was Jin and you didn't care about the rest. All you wanted was to forget about everything and Jin was so good at making you forget. His touch made your knees weak and his kisses were so strong and passionate that all you could think about was wanting him.

Jin unzipped your tight black dress and pulled it down to your waist. He kissed your exposed shoulders as you untucked his white shirt. A loud moan escaped your mouth when he found the sweet spot on your neck and your fingers balled around his shirt. Jin tore his lips away from your neck and left soft, wet kisses down your chest and your tummy until he came to your waist. He pulled your dress off completely, his mouth watering at the sight of your lacy underwear. He kissed the front of it, making you gasp as he yearned to get a better access. Jin's large hands squeezed your bum as he picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. You could have never found the confidence to do all of this so easily if you were completely sober and you were glad for the few drinks you had.

You swallowed hard when Jin laid you down on his bed and pulled off his shirt. As if his kisses and confident touch weren't enough to make you soaking wet, the sight of his god-like body made your skin crawl with fever.

You found yourself tracing your toes gently from the waist of his trousers and past his length that hardened even more beneath your touch and down to the middle of his thigh. Jin watched you with a look in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine. He took off his pants and grabbed a condom from the nightstand. You pulled him down to you, your lips finding his before you helped him slip it on. The brush of your fingertips against his member made him so hard that he could come there and then. Jin wouldn't allow himself, though, not before he could feel himself inside of you.

Jin climbed on top of you and found your soft lips again. Your kisses were driving him crazy.

"Can you go slowly at first?" you whispered into the kiss, your fingers tangled in the stranger's hair. Jin opened his eyes and found yours. If you could blush any more, you would.

"Of course," he agreed and left a hickey beneath your jaw. You smelled fantastic and it made him almost feral but he remembered what you said.

Jin took off your soaked-through underwear and pulled your hips closer to his before he guided himself inside of you. You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning but it helped little to contain your little sounds of pleasure. You couldn't help but curse under your breath as Jin began to move his hips and you could feel every inch of him inside of you. Your heart was racing like crazy and you couldn't get enough. Your nails dug into Jin's back, your legs wrapped tightly around his hips. It felt so good that you never wanted the moment to stop.

"Fuck," groaned Jin as he came closer and closer. His eyebrows furrowed into a frown and his grip on your hands grew firmer. Jin's face buried into your neck when he came, his breathing loud and heavy as he tried to calm down. You caressed his back, no less excited although you didn't finish. You didn't even expect to, given that this was just a one-night stand.

Afterwards, Jin went to the bathroom and took off the used condom. He ran his fingers through his hair when he came back, his eyes finding your sprawled across his bed. You were still breathing heavily, one of your hands on your bare tummy, the other somewhere behind your head. Your gaze tied with his when he waited by the bed.

Jin's fingers traced your calf first then his hand slid up your leg as he climbed onto the bed and he reached your thigh. Jin kissed your tummy first, his teeth softly grazing against your skin. Your heart began to race again and your stomach flipped with fireworks. Before you realized what Jin was doing, his mouth had reached your wet pussy. You gasped when his lips closed around you sucking and kissing and his tongue drawing shapes in ways that brought you to the edge of screaming. Your back arched when Jin's hands wrapped around your thighs and he brought you closer, your toes curling and your heart beating so loud against your chest that you forgot how to breathe. You whimpered as your legs shivered and pleasure took over your entire body.

"Oh my god ..." you cried when Jin pulled away from the throbbing, wet mess between your thighs. He turned to the inside of your leg and pressed hard kisses there as well, leaving a red marks on your tender skin.

***

You woke up in the morning with the sun in your eyes. You blinked, thinking you had died for a moment because it felt as if you had been sleeping on a cloud. It was just a large bed, however, with soft, plush covers scattered all around you. You sat up quickly when you remembered everything that happened. A blush so strong rose to your cheeks that your face was pulsating with heat. A sharp breath caught in your throat when you realized that you were naked and your underwear lay scattered on the bedroom floor. You jumped up quickly and put it on but your dress was nowhere to be found. There were three doors in the bedroom; one led to the walk-in closet, another to the hallway and the last one to the bathroom. Your dress wasn't there either but when you saw the smudged makeup on your face, you couldn't help but wash it away quickly and run your fingers through your tangled hair.

There was the sound of footsteps coming from the other side of the apartment. You saw a white shirt at the foot of the bed and slipped it on. The smell of it reminded you of every detail of the night and made your face flush. When you slowly made your way down the hall, you took in the luxurious apartment, not even noticing how extravagant it was last night. As you looked around, a pair of dark eyes was watching you with great interest. Jin's gaze followed your bare legs, the silhouette of your lacy underwear beneath his white shirt and your soft hair bathing in the morning sunlight.

You could feel someone looking at you. A loud gasp escaped your mouth when you turned around and saw your one-night stand behind the kitchen isle. He looked even better than you remembered; he wore a fresh shirt and suit trousers, a golden watch shimmering on his wrist as he held a cup of coffee in his other hand. Not only did you feel under-dressed and awkward about last night, you suddenly realized how out of your league he was.

"Good morning," he said and took a small sip of coffee.

"I ... I couldn't find my dress," you almost stuttered as you hugged your arms. Your cheeks were on fire. The man gestured at the sofa behind you. You slipped back into the bathroom where you changed quickly, not having the smallest idea of how to navigate the situation.

When you returned to the kitchen, the man was still there.

"Coffee?" He offered you a cup.

"Thank you ..." you tried to remember his name but you couldn't even if there was a gun to your head.

"Jin," he filled in a small but amused smile on his handsome face.

"Jin," you repeated and took a long sip that you desperately needed. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," said Jin, unable to take his eyes off your beautiful face. He couldn't stop thinking about last night either. He couldn't say what it was and it irritated him to death, but something about you drew him in; he wanted to know more, he wanted to know everything.

"Are you hungry? I can make you some breakfast," he offered, taking you completely by surprise. Based on what your friends told you, one-night stands don't go this way. Some guys even made the girls leave in the middle of the night and yet he was offering to make you breakfast.

"I ... I'm not sure," your statement sounded more like a question.

"You're not sure if you're hungry?" asked Jin, unable to keep the smile off his face at how adorable you were. The warm look in his eyes gave you butterflies.

"No, I am but ... Shouldn't I go now?" you asked, only realizing how dumb you sounded after saying the words. "I'm sorry, I've never really done this before," you confessed and only made your cheeks go even redder.

"I can see that," smiled Jin and went for the fridge where he grabbed some ingredients for an omelette. You were staying for breakfast.

"What ... What do you do?" you asked carefully as you sat by the counter, taking in the lavish apartment. Jin couldn't have been more than a couple of years older than you and yet he either seemed to be making a fortune or inherited a colossal amount of wealth from his parents.

"I have a significant share of a company," said Jin diplomatically as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt before he started whisking the eggs.

"Oh ..." You heard about really young people who invested at the right thing at the right time and became rich overnight. You figured Jin was one of them.

"Do you do this often?" you asked after Jin set a beautiful omelette in front of you.

"Cook?"

"No," you laughed a little, your cheeks turning red again. "I mean this ... Whatever it is ... was ..."

Jin watched you for a moment, trying to figure you out. He could tell that you had no idea who he was; he knew that last night already and it drew him in. People began to act differently once they found out who he was.

"Sometimes," said Jin honestly and you nodded as you took a delicious bite.

"This is really good," you complimented, completely focused on the food and not noticing the look of interest in Jin's eyes. He had never met anyone like you before.

"Thank you," he said. "You?"

"No," you almost laughed again and shook your head. "This isn't my thing, I've never even—" You stopped talking and froze when you realized what you just said. An eerie silence fell between the two of you as your face burned bright red and you could feel the blood pulsating from your neck to your cheeks.

You took another bite of the food and hoped Jin wouldn't ask further about what you practically revealed just now, but you could feel his eyes burn through you. For a long time, you really wanted your first time to be with someone special but as you grew older and went on more dates, the realization of that idea seemed nearly impossible. You didn't mind your first time being with Jin. You followed your instincts last night and went for it; it's not like you haven't done anything by yourself before that.

Jin watched you, trying to process what he just thought you said. His heart began racing faster as his eyes measured you from head to heel. You bit your lip as a pang of guilt shot through your chest.

"I hope you don't mind that I didn't say anything," you said apologetically and forced yourself to look up into Jin's eyes. "I didn't want to make a big deal out of it because it's isn't a big deal to me." Your voice slowly grew more quiet with each word. Jin stared at you, his lips slightly parted.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked, leaning in slightly closer to you. Your eyes widened slightly and you blushed again. This was the last thing you expected him to say, a complete stranger.

You found yourself nodding truthfully. "Yeah, I ... It was great ..." you looked down at your plate and pulled another piece of omelette from the large roll with your fork. "It was pretty incredible really ..." you whispered under your breath when the memories came back to you.

Jin's hand went to your chin and propped it up before he kissed you. Your eyes widened at first but your instincts took over and you kissed him back. Your hand went to his smoothly-shaven cheek and you couldn't help but let out a quiet moan at how good Jin's plush lips felt against yours. He pulled away for a split second before leaning in again and pressing a shorter but no less passionate kiss to your lips.

Jin knew he was done for when he found it almost impossible to detach from your kiss. Your eyes staring up at him made his knees go weak - it was a completely new sensation for him.

"What are you doing tonight?" he found himself asking.

"I ... I don't know," you tried to think. The kiss made your brain all foggy.

"Let me take you out to dinner," said Jin. You stared at him puzzled.

"Me?" you asked timidly. You had never planned on this, not in a million years, but you would be lying if you said the thought of going out with Jin properly didn't excite you and give you butterflies.

"I'll pick you up at seven," he decided.

Namjoon

You were just coming back from the ladies' room with your girl friends when you saw a stunningly-handsome man. He was walking beside you back to the club area, his perfume sending shivers down your spine. The hallway narrowed to a single-door and he let you enter first.

"Thank you," you said with a small smile and slipped inside. When you glanced over your shoulder, the young man was nowhere to be seen. You frowned although you knew he was completely out of your league. What you found strange too, though, was that he was wearing a suit to the club. You wondered if he was the owner but he seemed much too young to own a business like this.

You had another drink and went back to the dance floor with your friends. You were dancing to the music, trying not to think about the absolute worst day you had. You couldn't believe how your best friend's boyfriend could manage to manipulate her so much that she would completely cut you off and her family too.

"I need to get some air," you voiced to your friend over the loud music. She nodded and continued on dancing.

You made your way through the pushy crowd, ignoring the weird guys who were gawking at you. They all looked the same; they dressed the same, they smelled like the same old cheap cologne; even their hair and faces looked the same.

You finally managed to make it through the back door, the cool air of the night filling your lungs and clearing your mind some.

"Everything alright?" asked a deep voice behind you. A small gasp escaped your lips as you jumped around. It's him, you realized when the young man in the suit stepped out from the shadows. He flicked away the cigarette butt in his hand.

You nodded as you hugged your bare arms. It was hot in the club but out here, the little black dress you wore wasn't remotely enough to keep you warm. Besides, you were sweaty from all the dancing.

"Actually, not really," you confessed and looked at the fluorescent light at the end of the back alley. The young man approached you.

"Anything I can do to help?" he asked and made you smile. You shook your head although you could help but allow your eyes to drift to the man's gorgeous lips. Your skin turned hot and prickly.

A pair of drunk girls in high heels emerged from the club suddenly and stumbled at you, pushing you against the stranger. He caught your arms and steadied you.

"Are you alright?" he asked after he threw a glare in the girls' direction. They were gone, though, giggling and stumbling down the alley.

"I'm fine," you nodded quickly. "Thank you."

"No problem," he said quietly as you looked up at him. There was hardly any space left between the two of you. A sharp breath caught in the back of your throat as your gaze fell on his lips again and he saw it. The stranger leaned down and kissed you. You responded immediately as you wrapped your arms around his neck and stepped on the tips of your toes. A small moan escaped your mouth when his hands took your hips and pulled you to him.

The moment that you made it into his apartment, the stranger grabbed your thighs and picked you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you to his bedroom.

"What's your name?" you whispered against his lips, hesitant to break the kiss for even a moment. He pulled away though, his eyebrows in a small frown as he looked you in the eye and stopped on his tracks. There was surprise in his dark irises and you wondered if he really was the owner of the club. You wouldn't have known him even if he was because you hardly ever went there.

"Namjoon," he said breathing heavily.

"I'm Y/N," you said quickly before you found Namjoon's lips again. His name sounded unique and familiar but in that moment you couldn't have thought about it less. All you wanted to do was to forget about everything and feel everything.

Namjoon sat down on the edge of the bed with you in his lap, your legs straddling his massive thighs. You kissed him hungrily as his large hands slid up your thighs and beneath your dress up to your hips. They stayed there for a while before Namjoon unzipped your dress and pulled it over your head. His lips went to your neck as you blindly unbuttoned his shirt, losing track for a moment when he found your sweet spot and a moan escaped your mouth. Namjoon's hand moved down your back and behind your lacy underwear. He squeezed your bum and made you move your hips closer to him so that you could feel how hard you made him. Once your wet pussy grazed his length, you couldn't help but continue moving your hips along it, making Namjoon's trousers wet.

"Fuck," he muttered against your chest. His fingers dug into your soft skin as he helped you guide your hips along his member. Your hair smelled so good that it made Namjoon's skin prickle with fever. He couldn't take it any longer.

Namjoon picked you up and laid you down on his soft bed. He pulled off his half-unbuttoned shirt and unbuckled his belt. He grabbed a condom from his nightstand and put it on although he wanted nothing more than tear it off and feel you raw.

"Come here," Namjoon almost growled as he pulled you back onto his lap. He let you stay on top although he was the one guiding you. A gasp-like moan caught in your throat as he entered you, making you feel so good. He moved his hips slowly at first, steadily as he watched your little pleasure-drunk frown. Your nails were digging into his strong chest, only making him more impatient. He guided your hips against him, your clit rubbing against his waist as you leaned forward. You began stroking yourself, the sight of it making Namjoon growl curses. He sat up properly and supported you in his strong arms as he made you take all of him. Your eyebrows were furrowed into a frown and your lips parted as you whined but it felt so good.

"Fuck ... Don't stop, don't stop," you begged as you edged closer. "I'm close," you whimpered just before your thighs quivered and Namjoon's thrusts made you wince after you climaxed. He was close too, so fucking close when he saw the expression on your face when you came.

Namjoon groaned against your chest when he came deep inside of you. The feeling of him throbbing inside your sensitive pussy made you whimper. You were breathing heavily in each other's arms, trying to find a way back from the high.

***

Your hands reached across the empty bed as you opened your eyes. It took you a moment to remember where you were and what happened. The memories brought a sharp blush to your cheeks as you sat up. You were wearing Namjoon's shirt and nothing else. The fabric still smelled like his perfume, giving you goosebumps.

You ran a hand through your messy hair as you stood up, your bare feet threading the cold wooden floors. For a moment your thighs quivered and your eyes widened. You remembered how good it was but even your body surprised you.

The first door that you opened was a bathroom and you couldn't be more grateful for it. After you gathered your clothes, you took a quick shower and washed away the makeup from last night.

When you made it back to the bedroom, a part of you hoped that Namjoon would be there and yet another was embarrassed to even look at him. You had never done anything like this before. You were always so calm and rational but last night something snapped in you. Everything had built up over the past few weeks and you just wanted to feel good for a change.

You made your way down the hallway and followed the sound of the TV news reporter. Namjoon was sitting on the sofa in front of a large TV and watching the morning news with the stocks information running at the bottom of the screen. He had a laptop open and a coffee in his hand. The apartment looked thrice its size in daylight and so lavish it made your stomach twist into knots. Maybe he really was the club owner.

You wondered whether you should say something at all or simply try and leave unnoticed. As you slipped behind Namjoon and almost reached the hallway, you bumped against an end table.

Namjoon turned around, his dark eyes finding yours.

"I'm just going to ..." you jumped around and gestured towards the door, letting him know you were going to be out of his way in a second. "I, um ... I left the shirt by the sink in the bathroom."

"Where are you going?" asked Namjoon and got up, forgetting completely about the stocks or the news or any of it.

"Home?" you suggested unsure. You had no idea how this worked. Based on what your more experienced friends told you, no one was lingering around for coffee and many of them were even asked to leave in the middle of the night or sleep on the sofa.

"Yeah, I know, of course," said Namjoon, a small smile creeping to his lips. He seemed much less intimidating now that he was talking to you rather than when he was frowning at the news. You almost forgot how handsome this man was but he reminded you simply standing in front of you.

"Do you want me to drive you?" he asked. Namjoon's voice was deep and dark but his brown eyes warm and inviting. "There's coffee too if you want."

You watched him unsure. His hands were in the pockets of his dark suit trousers and he wore a fresh new shirt as well.

"I, um ... Sure, coffee would be great," you smiled a little. "If it's not an inconvenience," you added quickly.

"Not at all," said Namjoon as he looked down at you. You looked different without your makeup and your hair done. You still looked perfect though.

You followed Namjoon into the kitchen where he grabbed some coffee. "I can try and make you some breakfast - try being the operative word," said Namjoon as he poured you some coffee.

"I'm sorry I really don't know what I'm doing right now," you said nervously as you hugged your arms. Namjoon turned to you, his brows in a small frown. "I've never done this before - should I've just left? I really don't want to impose if you're busy," you gestured to the living room behind you.

Namjoon rose his eyebrows as his eyes flickered to the TV before they tied back to your gaze. He placed a cup of hot, aromatic coffee on the counter before you and grabbed the remote. He turned off the TV and grabbed his own cup before he joined you in the kitchen.

"I'm not busy," said Namjoon. His hand brushed against your upper back as he made his way past you. Goosebumps rose on your arms.

"I'm curious," he confessed.

"Curious?" you rose your eyebrows, puzzled.

"Why did you do it this time?" asked Namjoon as you looked up at him. Your cheeks flushed pink.

"I just ... It's a really long story," you shook your head.

"I've got time," he said and sat down beside you. You gave him another look, unable to tell if he was just being polite but he seemed genuinely interested - so you told him. You told him about your best friend and how she had been acting strange since she started seeing this guy over a year ago; how she slowly cut everyone from her life and how it was your turn now.

"This is going to sound strange but ..." you shook your head as you stared down at your coffee. "I think my heart's broken." Your voice was quiet and weak. You licked your dry lips and looked up at the man who was nothing short of a stranger to you but he was listening to you nevertheless.

"I know it's not like love - romantic love - but ..." you tried to explain and ran a hand through your hair. "I just can't believe this is fucking happening ...

"I'm perfectly aware that I have no right to judge - I've never even dated anyone—" you went on but that's the last thing Namjoon heard. His eyebrows furrowed into a frown as he looked at you properly. He couldn't make himself believe the words coming out of your mouth. You were one of the most attractive women he had ever seen. Every last curve of your body reminded him of last night and made Namjoon realize how he wanted you for himself and not just for that one night and the fact that you were free ...

"I should probably go," you said when you saw the frown on Namjoon's face. You should never have stayed in the first place. But when you jumped off the stool, Namjoon stood up as well and caught your hand.

"Have dinner with me tonight."

"W-What?" you stuttered.

"Dinner tonight," decided Namjoon. "I'll pick you up at seven."

Yoongi

The dancing alone had little effect on you forgetting about your horrible day. The music was bad and the drinks you and your friends ordered were so watered down it was practically money thrown out the window. There was only one thing that was keeping your attention - him. He must have been around your age or maybe a few years older but it was dark and you didn't particularly care. He was talking to the club owner or perhaps a manager when his dark eyes found yours. A sharp breath hitched in the back of your throat when he caught you staring. You looked away at your friends who were dancing beside you but when you turned around, he was still watching you. His eyes tore themselves away from you when the manager motioned towards the back of the club.

It must have been an hour since when you told your friends you wanted to leave but they continued dancing. You tried make your way through the pushy crowd. There were guys gawking at you in your beautiful dress and your hair done perfectly. A couple of them wanted to stop you from leaving and make you dance with them but you managed to slip from their grabby, sweaty hands.

"God," you breathed as you pushed open some side door and the cool air of the night filled your lungs. You closed your eyes and threw your head back as if you were looking up at the night sky. You hugged your bare arms when the night air made you shiver.

"No, man, I'm telling you she wants it, I saw her go out here—" a man was talking to his friend and laughing drunkenly as they pushed through the same door where you came out. You jumped around when the door burst open and the two guys appeared that tried to make you dance with them. Your stomach twisted into knots and your skin prickled hot with fear. Your friends were still inside and there was no way of calling them.

"Look, there she is, I told you," grinned one of the guys and pointed his rude finger at you. The looks in the guys' eyes were terrifying because you had seen them a thousand times before and you knew exactly what they meant.

The smell of cigarette smoke came from the shadows on the other side of the door, only a small orange light visible to you. Someone stepped into the light in front of you, walking casually as if he were on an afternoon walk. Him. He breathed out the smoke as he took a look at his cigarette butt wondering if there was another drag hiding in there. His back was to you when he flicked away the cigarette absently and stared up at the two guys. The ribald expressions drained from their faces before they began pushing one another as to who will get back inside first. The heavy door closed behind them with a loud thud.

The man turned around and took a good look at your eyes.

"I saw you in there," he said after a while. His voice was quiet but dark enough to give you goosebumps.

"I saw you too," you said weakly. The stranger took off his jacket and offered it to you. "You don't need to—"

"Take it," he insisted, not unkindly. You thanked him and slipped on the warm jacket that smelled of heavenly perfume and a little bit of cigarette smoke.

"Do you need a ride?" asked the stranger and glanced over his shoulder at the door.

You nodded a little. "Yeah, okay." The reason in you told you not to go with him but you decided to trust your instincts. Everything about him drew you to him like a magnet, and little did you know that he felt the same way about you since the moment he saw you dancing in the club.

"What's your name?" asked the stranger as he opened his car door for you. He was leaning his arm against the frame when you froze, the two of you only inches apart.

"It's Y/N," you breathed, unable to keep your eyes from glancing at his lips. He nodded weakly and gave you his name.

Yoongi asked where you wanted to go once you were out on the road.

"Home," you said quietly as you watched the flickering lights of the city pass by.

"Where's that?" asked Yoongi, one of his hands on the steering wheel when he turned to you.

"I don't know where you live," you found yourself saying as you looked at him. Yoongi's lips parted slightly, his pitch black eyes studying you. He looked back at the road and made a turn at the next crossroads.

You followed Yoongi up an alarmingly tall apartment building where his place was at the very top. Yoongi let you in first after he unlocked the door. He turned on some lights as you took off your heels. He was right behind you. One of his hands slowly made its way around your waist whilst he moved your soft hair to one side of your neck with the other. Yoongi kissed your hot skin as you closed your eyes and let him. Your hand went over his that was resting on your waist, your fingers locking with his. You never imagined a stranger's touch could feel so good.

You turned around and caressed Yoongi's cheek, leading him down to your height. You kissed him slowly at first, but his grip securing on your hips encouraged you to deepen the kiss. His hands moved down to your bum and thighs where his fingers dug into your soft skin. He picked you up and sat you on the large end table Yoongi stepped between your legs that wrapped around his waist. Your back arched as you didn't want to break the kiss. A hint of cigarette smoke lingered on his tongue but you didn't mind, not that night. All you wanted was for him to touch you.

Yoongi's hands caressed your thighs before one of them rose beneath your skirt. You gasped when two of his fingers caressed the wet crease in your lacy underwear. Yoongi's eyes opened and found yours. He couldn't believe how wet you were and how hard that made him. Yoongi kissed you deeply, his lips returning to you over and over again for short, hungry kisses. Another one of your gasps filled Yoongi's mouth when his fingers began stroking your sweet spot. The fingers of one of your hands balled around the hem of his shirt whilst the other was tangled in Yoongi's dark hair.

You could feel how hard he was when Yoongi took his hand away and pulled your hips closer. He picked you up and carried you to his bedroom, knowing his way around the dark apartment. Yoongi laid you down on his soft bed before he got up and took off his shirt.

"Help me," you whispered breathlessly as you got to your knees and turned around and pulled your hair aside. Yoongi unzipped your black dress, revealing the lacy back of your matching bra. He pulled the dress off your shoulders and kissed your there, leaving small bites along your soft, perfumed skin. You laid back down and let him pull off your dress completely.

Yoongi was watching you lie on his bed in nothing but your underwear, letting his imagination run wild. Your cheeks flushed pink under his gaze but it was too dark for him to notice. He knew, though, the moonlight was enough.

He took off his pants and grabbed a condom from one of the drawers of his nightstand. His hands were almost shaking with impatience.

Yoongi tasted the moan in your mouth when he entered you. Your nails dug into his back in pleasure as he began moving his hips. You wrapped your legs around his waist, closing in what little space there was left between your bodies. Every thought but one disappeared from your mind - nothing else mattered but the two of you in that moment.

You began to stroke yourself. You didn't think you would feel like it but everything felt so good so you wanted to try.

"Let me do it," said Yoongi, his voice almost a growl. He grabbed a pillow and placed it beneath your hips and replaced your hand with his. He continued thrusting with the same rhythm that made you feel so good but now his fingers were caressing you as well. A loud moan rose from deep within your throat as your hands balled around the bed covers. Your eyes watered from the pleasure you were receiving. Yoongi's eyebrows furrowed into a frown as he watched you take him and come closer and closer.

"Fuck, please don't stop," you begged. Your back arched and your toes curled in pleasure as you felt the release all over your body. Yoongi came just after you, his member pulsating deep inside of you. He didn't pull out right away but leaned down to you and kissed you again. You wrapped around arms lazily around his neck and pulled him closer, your kisses showing him how good he made you feel.

***

You woke up late in the morning, not being able to remember the last time you had such a good night's sleep. You sat up in the unfamiliar bed wearing a hoodie far too large for your frame, the memories of last night coming back to you. Your neck and cheeks flushed red and your skin began to tingle as you fell back into the soft bed and savored the flashbacks. Something was moving in the hallway, a pair of quiet footsteps. Your eyes flashed open as you sat back up. The footsteps left again.

You found your underwear scatted on the bedroom floor and slipped it on quickly along with your dress. You were still holding the cozy hoodie in your arms when you made your way down the hallway and found Yoongi sitting at the kitchen counter. There was a laptop opened in front of him and a coffee in his hand. He rubbed his eyes when he felt your gaze on him and turned to you.

"Hi," you said with a small smile but didn't feel any less awkward.

Yoongi closed the laptop behind him and stood up. "Hi," he exhaled as thoughts stormed behind his eyes. There was a look on his face that you could not read.

"Do you want some coffee?" he offered.

"Sure," you nodded and came closer as he grabbed a cup for you. You placed Yoongi's hoodie on the counter by his laptop. His eyes flickered to it before they returned to you face as he handed you the coffee.

"Thanks," you accepted the drink gratefully, just the scent of it giving you goosebumps.

"Are you okay?" Yoongi asked out of nowhere, catching you off guard.

"Me?" you blurted as you looked up at his dark eyes. He nodded a little. You wondered what he was thinking; you wanted to know so bad but there was no way of telling.

"I'm okay," you nodded before the two of you sat down at the counter together. "Why?" you almost whispered. Yoongi was watching your every move, every breath that you took that made your chest rise and lips part, your fingers tapping nervously against the white cup, the lashes surrounding your beautiful eyes that were looking at him in turn.

You didn't know it then but Yoongi read people for a living and that's why you couldn't read him.

"You've never done this before," said Yoongi. His voice was quiet and smooth but it made you feel almost as if it stripped you naked and not in a good way.

You licked your dry lips as your stomach twisted into painful, anxious knots. He hurt your pride, though, and that hurt even worse. "If you didn't enjoy it, why didn't you just ask me to leave?" you said, almost snapping because no matter how hard you tried not to care, you did.

Yoongi's expression went blank for a moment before he realized what you thought he was insinuating and a smile broke on his lips. "I enjoyed it, that's not what I was saying," he looked down and remembered every second of it. He enjoyed it, he enjoyed it too much - enough to make him want to keep you there forever.

For some reason, Yoongi's genuine reaction made your cheeks even redder but it also made you feel more comfortable, especially now that your pride has been restored and even swelled. His smile was warm and honest unlike the formidable frown you saw him wearing last night at the club. Although in all honesty, you doubted that those guys would have just turned around and left you alone if he hadn't.

"I was just wondering why did you do it?" explained Yoongi. You licked your lips again and looked down at your coffee. You shook your head a little as everything came back to you.

"My best friend decided to cut me out of her life and I wanted to forget about everything," you told the truth when you looked up at Yoongi. As he watched you, he wondered if you had been as close to your friend as he was to his brothers. Even if you weren't, he understood.

"Listen, I ... I was wondering if you could still take me home," you asked slowly and remembered what you said last night. "To my place, I mean ... If it's not too big an inconvenience."

"I'll take you," said Yoongi. "I'll need to know where to pick you up for dinner tonight."

Hoseok

You were dancing with your friends when your eyes locked with a gorgeous man sitting in the VIP section. He was having a drink alone until the security guard let a young man pass into his section. He seemed more like a school boy rather than an adult. The handsome stranger kept his eyes on you a moment longer before he turned to the kid and you found yourself blushing. You turned to your friends and tried not to think about him although it was easier said than done. When you turned around, however, the stranger was no longer there. You frowned a little but figured he was way out of your league anyways and continued dancing.

The club became more crowded by the hour. You pushed your way through the dancing crowd to the bar.

"Can I get a bottle of water, please?" you shouted at the barman over the loud music. He nodded absently, swaying to the rhythm of the music. As you looked across the packed club, you knew it was your time to leave.

"What are we drinking?" asked a smooth voice beside you. You turned and came face to face with the handsome guy from the VIP section.

"It's you," you blurted unintentionally although the loud music hid your surprise a little. The man had a smile on his lips that made your tummy swirl with butterflies.

"Here you go," said the bartender as he sat your bottle of water on the bar. His eyes went to the stranger beside you whilst you thanked him.

"Mr Jung, the usual?" asked the bartender. He stayed still this time and paid attention, no longer dancing to the music and taking orders absently.

You looked at the man beside you. He was smiling still as his eyes shifted between your water and back to your eyes.

"Do you want to have a drink with me?" he asked politely. You stared at him conflicted.

"I ... I was just about to leave," you confessed although the offer was more than tempting. Jung leaned down closer to you, his perfume giving you goosebumps, and you repeated what you said.

"You're not having a good time?" he asked, his eyes taking in every feature of your face.

"No, I did," you said quickly. "But there's too many people now."

"Somewhere quiet then?" asked Jung, his face only inches away from yours. You couldn't help but glance at his beautiful lips and bit yours. Your heart was beating against your throat with excitement.

You nodded.

Before you knew it, you were in a beautiful penthouse apartment sitting on a soft sofa whilst the man, who you learned was Jung Hoseok, opened a bottle of wine. For a moment, you thought that you were in a dream. You were a little tipsy from the club but only so much that you didn't worry about the little things and not enough that it would keep you from feeling slightly nervous.

You had a sip of wine.

"You okay?" asked Hoseok, now sitting beside you as you faced one another. "Want me to take you home?"

"No, I'm okay," you said truthfully. You had never done this before and in your imagination - based on what your friends told you - it was anything but this. The wine, the beautiful apartment, the gorgeous man who made even the most confident parts of yourself feel self-conscious. You imagined it would be in the back of a car somewhere with both you and the random guy you danced with drunk out of your minds.

"I saw the way you danced," said Hoseok, one of his arms outstretched towards you over the back of the sofa, nearly touching your hair.

You blushed and laughed a little. "I can't dance," you shook your head and placed down your glass. Hoseok did the same.

"I beg to differ," said Hoseok, his voice deep and quiet enough to make your heart skip a beat. Your lips parted as you sat only inches apart. Hoseok glanced at your lips before his gaze returned to your eyes. Your butterflies turned into fireworks.

You scooted even closer and caressed his cheek before your lips melted into a soft but passionate kiss. Hoseok's hand slip up your thigh and to your waist where his fingers dug into your soft skin. You couldn't suppress a small moan as he pulled you into his lap and deepened the kiss. Hoseok's hand moved from your knee, beneath your skirt and up your thigh.

You pulled away from the kiss breathlessly. "I've never done this before," you confessed, hoping that he won't change his mind.

"It's okay," murmured Hoseok against your lips, his eyes closed.

"No, not just the one-night stand," you said quietly but responded to his kiss. "I've never ..." You shook your head a little. Hoseok's eyes opened. You couldn't tell what it was that you saw; there was desire and disbelief and something else that you couldn't point out.

"I want to do it," you asserted before Hoseok could even ask. Your fingers were tangled in his hair. "If you're okay with it," you licked your lips, feeling his hot breath on your skin. Hoseok didn't have to say anything - his eyes spoke for him. He found your lips again. His hands slid beneath your thighs as he picked you up and carried you to his bedroom.

Hoseok pulled off his shirt immediately before he helped you out of your dress. He was sitting on the edge of the bed with you between his legs as he took off your clothes and his dark gaze worshiped your body. His mouth was parted, a small shadow of a smirk hiding in the corner of his lips as he looked up at you. Your skin was prickling with fever when you pushed your hair on the side of your neck and kissed him. Hoseok pulled you down to his lap so that you were sitting on one of his thighs with your arms wrapped around his neck. His lips guided your kiss expertly. For a moment, you felt self-conscious about your lack of experience compared to him, but his touch made you forget about everything. One of his arms was locked around your waist whilst the other roamed up your thigh. Hoseok's fingers found their way beneath the hem of your underwear as he squeezed your bum tightly, making you moan against his lips. Hoseok took his hand back and traced the hemline of your waist until he reached the front but he never broke the deep kiss. His long fingers caressed over the fabric of your underwear and slid down to your pussy. His middle and ring finger grazed through your crease, finding the fabric completely soaked through. You gasped at his gentle but confident touch, your pussy throbbing beneath his fingers.

Hoseok pulled away from the kiss and opened his eyes, a soft grin in the corner of his lips when he saw how needy you were. Your glossy eyes begged him not to tease you and he obliged. Hoseok kissed you again, more hungrily now as the fingers of his one hand dug into the soft flesh of your waist and of the other pushed your underwear aside and caressing you skin to skin. You whimpered when his thumb found your clit and drew circles against it whilst he stroked the rest of you with his two long fingers. Hoseok didn't even have to slide his fingers inside of you to make you come because you were already gasping and moaning against his neck. He decided to push you a little further and dipped his fingers inside of you. Another whimper filled your mouth, followed by a series of cries as you reached another climax and your thighs began to quiver.

"That's it," groaned Hoseok quietly against your ear as he let you rest against his neck. "Look how well you did." He wrapped both of his arms around you and held you close. If he hadn't already been rock hard from seeing your body and touching you, the look of drunken pleasure on your face would have done it for him.

Hoseok left small, tender kisses down your neck. "You smell so nice," he murmured when he felt your fingers run through the hair on the back of his head. You moved your lips to his shoulder and kissed him, slowly reaching up his neck and jaw until you found his lips. He tasted and felt so good that you never wanted to break the kiss and for a while longer your wish would be granted.

Hoseok took off his trousers and found a condom whilst you pulled off your underwear. His eyes watched you as you did so, another rush of desire shooting through him.

"Come here," muttered Hoseok as he climbed on top of you and pulled you closer. He found your lips again, kissing you and kissing you until you were breathless and reaching for him. A whimper-like moan escaped your mouth when he entered you slowly, his hand holding down one of your wrists. You frowned in pleasure as your fingers dug into the small of his back. Hoseok was watching you, checking on you although there was no need. You only wanted more.

Hoseok moved his hips, entering you deeper and deeper. You winced from sensitivity and pleasure whenever he touched your clit. You went to touch yourself but Hoseok took your wrists and pinned them beside your head as he stopped thrusting his hips. You opened your pleasure-drunk eyes and saw him watching you with an amused look in his dark irises.

"Not yet," he said to you and let go of your wrists as he almost sat up. He took in the sight of your body - little silvers of your come on your stomach where he traced his fingers, your breasts and nipples perfect to touch and kiss and stroke, but most of all the dreamy look in your eyes.

"Look at you ..." Hoseok said to himself. "How pretty you are for me, little kitten," he murmured as he came back down and gave you a kiss different from the others.

Hoseok began moving his hips again, this time his pace faster and his length entering you fully. Your mouth was full of soft moans as you inched closer again. Hoseok reached down and caressed your little sweet spot, making your thighs quiver in matter of seconds. Even as you came again, Hoseok didn't slow down but picked up his pace instead. His fingers were soaked with your come when he locked them with yours, his other hand propped against the bed when he came as well. He squeezed your hand tightly before he released it. Hoseok leaned his forehead against yours, his chest heaving as you felt him throb deep inside of you. Your legs were wrapped around his hips even after he was done and he was in no hurry of pulling out.

***

Come morning, a small moan caught in your throat as you turned in the soft bed and buried your face into the soft pillow. You stretched your sore legs before you blinked slowly and adjusted to the morning light. It took you a moment to remember last night, and when you did, your face was flushed and your eyes grew wide open. Your heart was pumping hard in your chest when you sat up and looked around the spacious bedroom. The mattress beside you was empty but you could hear little noises coming from the rest of the apartment.

You got out of bed and tiptoed around the carpet as you collected your underwear and your dress. The bathroom door was cracked open and you slipped inside. You got dressed and washed your face, holding a hand of cool water against the back of your neck as you struggled to clear your head of the memories of last night. Your insides were tingling with butterflies just at the thought of Hoseok touching your body - you didn't even know how you would look him in the eye later. Perhaps you wouldn't even have to, you thought, remembering all the stories your friends told you about horrible one-night stands. Your heart sunk a little at the idea, but on the other hand, you couldn't expect much else from this.

You brushed your hair with your fingers as you made your way down the hallway, following the sounds that were coming from the kitchen.

Jung Hoseok was standing behind the kitchen isle, a neat wooden tray sitting on top of it. There was a croissant, a bowl of mixed berries, a glass of orange juice and he had just placed a cup of coffee on there as well. His sharp eyebrows were arched in a frown and his lips were parted slightly. He wore a classic white shirt and a pair of elegant black trousers with a metallic watch glimmering on his wrist. Hoseok's dark eyes looked up at you suddenly when he felt someone watching him.

"Good morning," he spoke, his formidable frown replaced immediately with a warm smile like sunshine breaking through a storm. You blushed.

"Hi," you greeted as you fixed the thin strap of your dress and came a little bit closer. "Should I ..." you asked carefully, gesturing in the direction of the exit if you remembered correctly from last night.

Hoseok frowned a little. "You don't have to leave yet," he said, his eyes glancing down at your exposed shoulders. "I made you breakfast."

"It's for me?" you asked, the corners of your eyebrows curved downwards when you looked at the beautiful tray.

"Of course," smiled Hoseok. "Sit down." As he made his way past you, his hand touched your waist and his lips kissed your cheek.

"I'll be right back."

His touch left tingles on your skin as you watched him disappear down the hallway before you sat down at the kitchen isle. The fresh smell of berries and the crisp scent of the pastry invited you. You took the coffee first, however, and took a sip before you wrapped your cold hands around the warm porcelain.

"Here," said Hoseok when he appeared beside you. He handed you a soft black hoodie and you looked up at him surprised. There were goosebumps on your arms and the morning was much colder than the hot night when you were dancing in the club.

"How did you sleep?" asked Hoseok with a smile as he grabbed his own cup of coffee and sat down beside you after you pulled on his hoodie and melted into its softness.

"Great, thank you," you nodded and stole a few berries from the neat white bowl. You were about to ask him the same but he spoke first.

"How are you feeling?" Hoseok smile faded a little as a soft frown gathered on his handsome face. You stopped chewing for a moment, taken back by the question, and your cheeks grew pink.

"I'm okay," you said more quietly now and focused on your coffee cup.

"Are you sure?" asked Hoseok. His heart was thumping wildly in his chest as he took in every little detail of your beautiful face. He kept thinking how he should have been gentler and how he should have asked you more if you were okay. Hoseok was well aware that you were practically strangers but there was something that drew him to you, that made him want to protect you and take care of you at any cost.

Hoseok tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The gentle gesture made you look up into his warm, dark eyes.

"Yeah," you nodded. "I'm great, it was great."

Hoseok studied your features a moment longer but you were telling the truth. In fact, your words were an understatement about how you felt about last night.

You bit your lip as you couldn't help but glance at Hoseok's lips, wondering what it would be like to have him kiss you again. But you knew it was just a one time thing and that you were done now.

You looked away but Hoseok saw everything and it made his heart skip a beat.

"Have dinner with me tonight?" he asked out of nowhere, the question sounding more as a statement. Your gaze shot up at him.

"What?" you almost stuttered.

"Have dinner with me tonight," Hoseok spoke again; this time there was no room for question.

"But ... you barely know me," you shook your head a little although the thought of it awoke every last butterfly in your body.

"I'll get to know you," said Hoseok quietly as a small smile grew on his features and he leaned in closer. Your eyes fell to his beautiful lips and a sharp breath caught in the back of your throat.

"Okay," you nodded weakly when you saw Hoseok's gaze shift from your eyes to your lips.

"Good." Hoseok closed the space between you as his lips found yours, making your tummy explode with fireworks.

312 notes · View notes

vunblr · 10 days ago

Text

An Unfinished Goodbye

Pairing: Ex-husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Jealous Bucky. Slight angst.

Summary: Bucky tells himself he’s only watching over his ex-wife and son for their safety. But when someone threatens to alter the status quo, his quiet vigilance falters.

Word Count: About 2.6k

note: The events of this story are prior to The Weight of Choices, just an idea that’s been on my mind for some time, and I’ve finally decided to write it.

Bucky didn’t let himself linger in the neighborhood too often. He told himself it was for her safety, to make sure no remnants of his past ever came close to the life he’d left behind. But the truth? The truth was much harder to swallow.

So here he was again, parked inconspicuously down the block, watching his old household from the safety of shadows. Nearly two years had passed since the divorce, yet his routine surveillance hadn’t faltered. He called it caution. Vigilance. Love disguised as duty.

But something had shifted over the past few months. He’d noticed a pattern: Wednesdays, late afternoons, like clockwork. She would leave the house with her bag slung over her shoulder and a bounce in her step. She wasn’t dressed for a date: no makeup, no particular effort in her outfit. Casual, comfortable, but purposeful. She always walked, sometimes taking Benjamin along, though not often. Her destination was only three blocks away, a quaint bookstore with dark wood paneling and colorful window displays.

At first, Bucky dismissed it as another errand. But as the weeks passed, he couldn’t ignore how much time she spent there. The store was small, not the kind of place where someone could lose themselves in endless aisles of books. She never came out with stacks, just one or two bags that didn’t explain why she lingered inside for nearly an hour each time. It intrigued him.

What was she doing in there? Who was she talking to?

He had no right to feel like this, not after everything he’d done, not after he’d been the one to walk away. But knowing that didn’t make the questions stop, nor did it ease the tightness in his chest every time he imagined someone else making her smile the way he used to.

Bucky shifted in his seat, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly. He knew the store was safe, he’d checked it out the first time she visited, a quick sweep of its modest interior to ensure there were no hidden dangers. But that was before he noticed the pattern. Before he noticed him.

The clerk.

Attractive in an unassuming way, clean-cut, and friendly. The type of guy who probably didn’t carry the kind of baggage Bucky wore like a second skin. He’d seen the way the man smiled at her, the easy banter as she lingered at the counter. It didn’t take a genius to see the man was interested. But what stung more was the question that haunted him every time he saw them together.

Was she interested, too?

The first time Bucky walked past the bookstore on a Wednesday afternoon, it was a coincidence, or so he told himself. He’d been in the area, making one of his usual rounds to ensure Hydra remnants weren’t stirring trouble when he saw her through the large display window.

She stood at the counter, leaning slightly, her bag hanging loosely off her shoulder. Bucky slowed his pace, his eyes drawn to her like a magnet. Her lips moved as she spoke to the clerk, and then she laughed, he couldn’t hear the words, but the smile she gave the man, warm and genuine, was loud enough to make something twist painfully in his chest.

Bucky’s steps faltered. He forced himself to keep walking, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He didn’t look back.

The second time, it wasn’t a coincidence.

She didn’t see him, of course. She never did. He’d become an expert at moving through the edges of her world without disturbing it. That afternoon, he lingered across the street, leaning casually against a lamppost while pretending to check his phone. She was there again, standing at the counter. The clerk handed her a small brown paper bag with a flourish, and her head tilted in a way Bucky recognized, a sign she was amused. The way the clerk smiled back was almost smug, and Bucky’s jaw tightened before he realized what he was doing.

It wasn’t jealousy. It couldn’t be. This wasn’t about him. He was there to make sure she was safe, not to… what? Spy on her? Analyze every smile and gesture? No. That wasn’t why he was there.

Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

By the fourth Wednesday, Bucky had stopped pretending. He started arriving just before she did, timing it perfectly so he could loiter nearby, feigning to check the notices on the community bulletin board. He didn’t always stay long, just enough to see her walk in, to make sure nothing seemed off. He wasn’t watching her. He was watching over her. There was a difference, even if it felt like splitting hairs.

That day, though, he couldn’t stop himself from glancing through the window. Just a quick look, nothing more.

And there was the clerk. Smiling. Laughing. Reaching across the counter to tap the corner of her bag, like it was their little ritual.

Bucky’s stomach churned. He didn’t wait to see how the rest of their interaction played out. He turned on his heel and left, his steps quicker than usual.

The afternoon pick-up at the kindergarten next day was as uneventful as ever. Bucky leaned against the frame of the door, arms crossed, watching as Benjamin rushed to shove the last of his toys into his tiny backpack. The teacher smiled at Bucky, offering a polite nod before turning her attention back to the other children.

“Ready, buddy?” Bucky asked when Ben finally zipped up the bag with a triumphant grin.

“Yep!” the boy chirped, slinging the strap over his shoulder and racing over to grab his dad’s hand.

They walked back to the car, the boy chattering about his day: the finger painting, snack time, and the new dinosaur toy one of the other kids brought. Bucky listened, smiling faintly, savoring these rare moments of normalcy.

When they reached his apartment, Ben bounded in, already pulling out his toys and making himself at home. Bucky couldn’t help but smile at the sight. He set down Benjamin’s backpack and started unpacking it, pulling out pajamas, a toothbrush, and a small paper bag. The bag’s contents caught his eye, a glossy new children’s book with a vibrant cover featuring talking animals.

“Where’d this come from?” he asked, holding it up for the child to see.

“Mom bought it yesterday!” Benjamin called from where he was lining up his action figures. “She said it’s funny, and I wanted you to read it to me tonight.”

Bucky swallowed hard, his fingers tightening briefly around the book. It was a small thing, a routine purchase for their son. “Sure, pal,” Bucky said, forcing a smile. “We’ll read it before bed.”

Later, with Benjamin tucked under a warm blanket and already halfway to dreamland, Bucky opened the book. He flipped through the first few pages, skimming the cheerful illustrations, until something yellow caught his eye.

There, stuck neatly to the inside cover, was a post-it note.

Bucky’s stomach twisted as he peeled it off. The handwriting was neat and precise, the kind of deliberate script that came with care.

"For Benjamin and his supermom. If you ever need a quiet moment to yourself, you know where to find me. Coffee’s on me."

For a moment, Bucky just sat there, the note pinched between his fingers, his jaw clenching tighter with every passing second. He read it again, and then again, as if repetition might dull the sharp edge of what it implied.

The clerk wasn’t just leaving a kind gesture for Benjamin. This was for her, testing the waters, pushing the boundary between friendly and…something else.

His chest tightened as he looked down at his son, fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in his father’s mind.

Bucky ran a hand over his face, letting out a slow, controlled breath. He knew he had no right to feel this way. He was the one who left and broke her heart. She deserved a chance to move on, to be happy. He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t interfere, wouldn’t sabotage any future relationships she might find.

And yet, as he sat there in the dim light of his living room, his son’s soft breathing the only sound breaking the silence, and all he could think about was the smile she gave the clerk, the ease of their conversation. It twisted inside him, the raw ache of knowing she might be moving on, that someone else might be filling the space he’d left behind.

The book lay open on the coffee table, colorful illustrations staring up at him like an accusation. He should be happy, he knew that. If the clerk was kind, if he made her smile, then wasn’t that what Bucky had wanted? To know she was safe, loved, and cared for by someone who didn’t carry the weight and dangers of a bloody past?

But it didn’t feel like that. It felt like something had been ripped out of his chest, leaving an empty, hollow ache. He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut.

What was he going to do? March into the bookstore and tell the guy to back off? Make a scene, all because he couldn’t handle the sight of her moving on? He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. It was pathetic and out of line.

Bucky told himself to sleep it off, to push it down and let the night take the edge off his emotions. But when he slipped under his covers, the darkness only seemed to amplify everything: the sting of the note, the look on her face when she laughed with the clerk, the ache in his gut.

He turned onto his side, then his back, staring at the ceiling as if it held answers he couldn’t grasp. Hours passed like this, his thoughts circling the same drain, relentless and unyielding.

He fell into a fitful sleep sometime near dawn and woke up with a headache pounding at his temples. Dropping Ben off at kindergarten helped distract him for a while; the boy’s energy was infectious, and Bucky managed a real smile when he waved goodbye, watching him run inside without a second glance.

But once Ben was out of sight, the intrusive thoughts returned, a heaviness that sat low in his stomach.

He pushed it aside, meeting up with Sam at a quiet café in the city to discuss a potential mission overseas. A dangerous arms dealer had resurfaced, and Sam was talking about intel, tactical approaches, and backup options, but Bucky only half-listened. He nodded in the right moments and offered a few curt suggestions, but his heart wasn’t in it.

Sam noticed. He always did. “You good, Tinman?” he asked, giving him a sidelong glance, his voice dipping in concern.

“Yeah,” Bucky replied, too quickly. He took a long sip of his coffee. “Just a rough night.”

Sam’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t push. He knew Bucky well enough to recognize when to leave things alone. “Alright. But if you’re not up for this trip, just say the word.”

“I’m fine,” Bucky insisted, setting the cup down a little harder than he meant to. He forced a smile. “Besides, what else am I gonna do?”

Sam’s grin softened the tension between them. “Yeah, well, we both know you’re bad at sitting still. Just… if you need to deal with whatever’s got you distracted, handle it before it blows up in your face.”

Bucky’s smile faltered, and for a moment, he wondered if Sam could see straight through him. “I will,”

The day dragged on, filled with errands and prep for the potential mission. It was late afternoon when he realized where he was, standing across the street from the bookstore, hidden in the shadow of a building.

He shouldn’t be here. He knew he shouldn’t be here.

But he couldn’t leave, either.

The clerk was inside, bustling about, turning off lights and flipping the sign to Closed. The street was quiet, the sun dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows. Bucky’s pulse thrummed in his ears as he watched the man lock up, a spring in his step that made Bucky’s jaw clench. He didn’t know this guy’s name, didn’t care to know it. All he knew was the way the man looked at her, and it was enough.

Bucky stepped forward, letting the streetlight catch his face just enough for the man to see his expression, cold and unyielding. He took his time, closing the distance with the kind of deliberate, measured steps that always made people nervous. He wanted the clerk to feel it, to know exactly what this was.

“I’ve seen the little note you left,” he said quietly, his voice a low rumble that carried in the empty street. He didn’t raise his voice, he didn’t need to. The menace was in the calm, the quiet control. “And I need you to know something.”

The clerk swallowed hard, taking a half-step back. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t-”

Bucky’s eyes were steely as he interrupted. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with. And I need you to stay away from my wife.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and deliberate. He knew he shouldn’t have said it -my wife- but he couldn’t help himself. He needed to leave an imprint, to sow the seeds of doubt and fear. The man’s face paled, his eyes flicking between Bucky’s unyielding gaze and the empty street behind him as if he was already considering his escape.

“I didn’t mean anything,” the clerk stammered, his voice barely above a whisper now. “I was just… being friendly, I swear.”

Bucky leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “I don’t care what you meant. If you leave another one, if you talk to her again, if you so much as breathe in her direction, I’ll know. And trust me, you won’t like what happens next.”

He let the threat hang, unspoken but understood. The clerk nodded frantically, backing away, nearly tripping over the curb in his haste.

Bucky stepped back, letting the shadows swallow him again. He watched as the man stumbled away, disappearing down the street at a near run.

The next Wednesday, she walked into the bookstore as usual, expecting to see the familiar face behind the counter, the easy smile, and the warm greeting. Instead, a tall, bearded man she’d never seen before looked up from behind the register, offering her a polite but distant nod.

“Um, hi,” she said, trying to keep the confusion out of her voice. “Is Matt not working today?”

The new clerk shrugged. “He switched to the morning shift this week. Said he wanted more daylight hours,” he explained casually, returning to the task of rearranging colorful bookmarks without much thought.

“Oh,” she replied, caught off guard. Matt hadn’t mentioned anything about changing his schedule. For a moment, she couldn’t shake the odd twist in her chest, a mix of confusion and something that felt uncomfortably like rejection. It was silly, really, but she’d thought there was a small, unspoken connection between them, a hint of something starting. But clearly, she’d been reading too much into a few friendly gestures.

After a quick, half-hearted browse, she left the bookstore sooner than usual, her expression distant as she stepped back onto the sidewalk. Her mind churned with a muddle of questions and disappointment, feeling foolish for hoping there had been something more.

Of course, Bucky was there, watching from a distance as she walked out of the bookstore, with a subtle sag of her shoulders, and a distant look in her eyes. He knew exactly why; he’d made sure of it. It was pathetic, really. He’d driven off a harmless guy, all because he couldn’t stomach the thought of her finding comfort or affection in someone else.

He swallowed hard, staring after her as she disappeared into the crowd. He’d done it again, made things harder for her, twisted the knife he’d already lodged in her heart. But despite the suffocating shame, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #fatws bucky #bucky barnes fanfic #the winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x female reader #winter soldier fanfiction #Ex-husband!Bucky #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky x curvy!reader

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winxanity-ii · 2 months ago

Note

Had a dream where Nanami has cold hands and Reader has warm hands. So Nanami likes to hold Reader’s hands a lot.

“Your hands are warm...” he said softly, he had a really soft look on his face, maybe longing?

“You’re hands are so cold!” I say in shock as I try to warm up one of his hands.

hehehe, hope you enjoy it.. ❤️

ICE TO THE TOUCH

ship: nanami x fem!reader warnings: non-explicit word count: 2.6k A/N: just a cute lil one-shot that was requested...

★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

The sky outside your apartment was a canvas of dark greys, heavy clouds rolling lazily across the city skyline.

The rain had been relentless since the early hours of the morning, painting the world in a muted palette of blues and silvers. You sat perched on the windowsill, fingers wrapped around a warm mug of tea, your breath fogging up the glass as you watched the storm rage on.

The city seemed quieter like this, blanketed under the weight of the downpour. The sound of rain pattering against the window was comforting—a rhythmic lullaby that made the world beyond the glass feel distant, almost unreal.

You shifted slightly, the oversized sweater draped over your frame shifting with you; it was so large that it nearly swallowed you whole.

The sleeves slipped past your hands, the hem brushing against your knees as you absentmindedly pushed the fabric up for the umpteenth time, your fingertips peeking out just enough to cradle the warm mug.

It was late, the kind of late where the day still clung stubbornly to the edges of dusk, refusing to let go. The city lights were muted under the grey veil of clouds, and for a moment, everything felt still.

Peaceful.

You took another sip of your tea, the warmth spreading through you as your gaze drifted to the dark clouds above.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't hear the keys jingling until the front door creaked open. A familiar hulking figure shuffled inside, letting out a tired groan that made your lips curve into a smile.

You turned slightly, glancing over your shoulder.

"Rough day at work?" you teased softly, the corners of your mouth lifting as you watched your fiancé struggle to kick off his shoes without collapsing from exhaustion.

Nanami Kento, still in his slightly rumpled suit, grumbled something incoherent under his breath, his voice low and gravelly from hours of strain. He tossed his jacket over the back of the couch and set his briefcase down with a heavy sigh. "Dumbass Gojo," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I swear... He's going to be the death of me."

You chuckled softly, turning back to look out at the rain as Kento shuffled over to the couch, slumping down with another groan. His usual sharp demeanor was completely undone, replaced by a rare vulnerability as he rubbed a hand over his face.

The sight made your heart ache a little.

You knew how much he cared and how seriously he took his work. But sometimes, it took a toll on him.

Setting your mug down on the windowsill, you slipped off your perch and padded over to him, your bare feet silent against the wooden floor.

The sweater hung loosely around your frame, the sleeves slipping past your hands again as you reached out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

"Want me to make you some tea?" you offered, your voice soft, the smile on your lips gentle as you looked down at him.

Kento cracked one eye open, his gaze softening when he saw you standing there, the light from the window casting a soft halo around you. "That would be nice," he murmured, his hand reaching out to take yours, his fingers cold against your warm skin. He squeezed your hand gently, the touch lingering.

You nodded, giving his hand a gentle squeeze in return before slipping away to the kitchen. You could feel his eyes on you, the warmth of his gaze lingering long after you'd turned away.

As you busied yourself with the kettle, you could hear him shifting on the couch, the soft rustle of fabric, and the quiet sigh that followed as he stretched out. You glanced over your shoulder, watching as he finally relaxed, the tension melting away from his broad shoulders as he let his head fall back against the cushions.

It wasn't long before you returned, a steaming cup of tea in your hands. Kento's eyes were closed, his breathing slow and steady, but he stirred as you approached, his fingers reaching out instinctively for yours.

You set the tea down on the coffee table, leaning down to give him a small kiss before padding back over to your little spot.

It wasn't long before Kento joined you by the windowsill, his large frame blocking out the wanning light as he leaned down. Without warning, he slid his arms under your knees and back, scooping you up effortlessly as he maneuvered himself into your spot.

You let out a surprised shriek, dissolving into giggles as he shifted you around like you were nothing more than a cozy blanket.

His movements were deliberate, making sure you were positioned just right on his lap, your legs draped over his thighs and your back nestled against his broad chest.

"Kenni!" you squealed, your laughter filling the room as he settled in with a satisfied sigh. His large hands splayed across your thighs, pulling you closer against him, and you could feel the warmth of his body seeping into yours.

"Much better," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear. He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple before resting his chin on top of your head, his arms wrapping around you securely.

You snuggled into him, your head tucked under his chin as your fingers traced idle patterns on his chest. His hands rubbed soothingly along your spine, the pads of his fingers tapping rhythmically against your lower back.

It was a simple gesture, but it made your heart flutter all the same.

A peaceful silence settled over you both, the only sound being the soft patter of rain against the window and the distant hum of city life settling down outside.

You closed your eyes, content to simply bask in his presence, your earlier thoughts and worries slipping away like the rainwater trailing down the glass.

Kento was the first to break the silence, his voice a gentle murmur in your ear. "How was your day, love?"

You sighed softly, a small smile tugging at your lips as you shifted slightly in his lap, your cheek resting against his chest. "Well, the weather canceled half of my classes, so I had a lot more free time than I expected."

Kento hummed in acknowledgment, his hands stilling for a moment before resuming their gentle caress along your spine. "Did you use it to catch up on anything?"

You nodded, your fingers playing with the collar of his shirt as you continued. "Yeah, actually. I finally had the chance to catch up on all that internet drama and conspiracy theories I’ve been neglecting." You chuckled, your voice light with amusement as you recalled the absurdity of it all. "You wouldn't believe some of the things people were talking about back in 2017-2019. It’s like a treasure trove of weird, forgotten nonsense."

Kento's chest rumbled with a soft laugh, his fingers tapping idly against your thigh. "Oh really? Like what?"

"Well," you began, shifting slightly to look up at him, "there was this whole thing about a supposed secret Hollywood cult that's been manipulating the media for decades." You rolled your eyes at the absurdity of it, your smile widening as Kento raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

"Hollywood cult?" he repeated, a hint of skepticism in his voice. "People actually believe that?"

"Oh, it gets better," you said, your voice brimming with enthusiasm as you launched into the details, recounting the bizarre theories that people had pieced together from cryptic tweets and red carpet photos.

You told him about the strange coincidences, the rumored secret meetings, and the internet sleuths who had dedicated countless hours to unraveling the supposed conspiracy.

Kento listened with a soft smile, occasionally humming in response or asking for clarification when you mentioned some obscure celebrity or internet figure he wasn't familiar with. You couldn't help but giggle at his confusion whenever you brought up a particularly ridiculous theory.

Halfway through your mini-ramble, your words died in your throat, replaced by a sudden shriek as Kento's hands slid up under the hem of your sweater. His fingers, ice-cold against your warm skin, brushed teasingly across your upper thighs and stomach.

You squirmed in his lap, your breath hitching as you tried to twist out of his hold. "K-Kenni!" you whined, your voice a breathless plea as you wriggled against him, only managing to press yourself closer. "Your hands are cold!"

He chuckled softly, the sound low and rumbling in his chest as he tightened his hold on you, his hands stubbornly remaining beneath your sweater.

You finally managed to twist around enough to face him, your eyes locking with his as you pouted up at him, a mix of exasperation and affection dancing in your gaze.

Up close, you could see the weariness etched across his features.

The dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced, a testament to the sleepless nights and long hours he'd been putting in at work. His usually neat blond hair was in disarray, a few strands falling messily across his forehead, giving him a boyish charm that tugged at your heart.

Kento's lips twitched into a soft smile as he looked down at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that familiar way that made your heart flutter. "Can't help it when you're so warm," he muttered, his voice low and slightly hoarse as he squeezed your waist, his thumbs brushing against your skin.

You let out another burst of giggles, your head falling back against his shoulder as you tried to squirm away from his ticklish touch. "Stop!" you protested weakly, your laughter filling the small apartment as you managed to free your hands, reaching up to cradle his face.

He immediately leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut as he hummed softly, the tension in his shoulders melting away. Your fingers traced the lines of his face gently, brushing over the small stubble on his jaw and the tired lines beneath his eyes. "You really should rest, you know," you murmured, your voice soft with concern as your thumb swept across his cheekbone.

Kento sighed, his eyes opening slowly to meet yours, the warmth in his gaze making your heart skip a beat. "I know... I've been working non-stop all day in the cold rain," he replied, his voice still tinged with exhaustion. "But coming home to you has to be my favorite part of it all..." He took your hands in his, raising them to his lips and pressing a soft kiss against your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours. "You're always so warm."

Heat spread across your cheeks at his words, your heart swelling with affection as you smiled up at him. "That's because I stay inside like a normal person," you teased lightly, earning a soft chuckle from him as his hands squeezed yours gently.

"Maybe I should start staying inside more often," he murmured, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your lips.

"Fine, I guess I'll be your personal heater then," you teased, your voice barely above a whisper as you brushed your thumb over his bottom lip, watching as his eyes darkened slightly, the warmth in his gaze making your stomach flutter.

Kento's lips curved into a small smile as he leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut as he let out a soft hum of contentment. "I'd like that," he murmured, his voice low and intimate as he nuzzled his nose against your palm, his breath ghosting over your skin.

You felt your heart melt at the sight of him so relaxed, his usually stern features softened by the tender affection in his eyes. "You're too sweet, you know that?" you whispered as you cupped his face, your fingers threading through his hair.

He let out a soft laugh, his hands slipping back under your sweater to rest against your hips, his thumbs tracing gentle circles against your skin. "Only for you..." he muttered, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

Before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, lingering kiss that made your heart skip a beat.

You sighed softly against his mouth, your hands slipping down to his shoulders as you melted into the kiss, the warmth of his body seeping into yours.

Just as Kento's hands began to trail up your back, his touch sending sparks of warmth through your veins, a sudden blaring sound shattered the peaceful silence.

You both froze, your lips still inches apart as his phone continued to ring obnoxiously from the pocket of his discarded jacket.

Kento groaned, his head falling back against the couch with a heavy sigh. "I swear, if it's Gojo..." he muttered under his breath, his jaw clenching slightly as he reached over to grab his phone.

You bit back a smile, your fingers brushing against his as he pulled the device out of his pocket, his expression a mix of annoyance and resignation. He glanced at the screen, his eyes narrowing slightly before he answered the call with a curt, "Hello, Nanami speaking."

You barely had time to cover your mouth to stifle your laughter as a loud, exaggerated whine echoed from the other end of the line.

"Nami~ I can't believe you really stood me up to go home to your fiancée!" Gojo's voice was a dramatic drawl, and you could practically see the pout on his face through the phone. "I thought we were besties!"

Kento's brow twitched in irritation, his jaw tightening as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Gojo, it's seven in the evening," he said slowly, his voice laced with barely concealed frustration. "And I just got home from a thirteen-hour shift."

"But Nami! You promised we'd get ramen together after work! You even said you'd pay!"

You couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped, your eyes sparkling with amusement as Kento shot you a look, his lips twitching as he tried to suppress a smile.

"I never promised a damn thing," he replied flatly, his fingers rubbing small circles against your waist as he spoke. "And I'm not going to pay for your ridiculous eating habits."

"But Nami—"

"Goodbye, Gojo." Kento hung up mid-sentence, his thumb tapping the screen with a finality that made you burst into laughter, your head falling against his shoulder as you tried to catch your breath.

Kento sighed, his eyes closing as he leaned his head back against the couch. "I don't know how you put up with me," he muttered, his lips twitching into a small, tired smile as he looked down at you, his eyes soft with affection.

You grinned, reaching up to cup his cheek as you pressed a soft kiss to his jaw. "It's not that hard when you're this cute," you teased, your voice light and playful as you nuzzled against his neck.

Kento chuckled softly, his hands slipping up to cradle your face as he leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, lingering kiss that made your heart flutter.

"Thank you," he murmured against your lips, his voice barely a whisper as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. "For being here. For putting up with me."

Your heart swelled at his words, your fingers tracing the lines of his face as you smiled up at him, your eyes shining with love. "Always, Kento," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion as you leaned up to capture his lips in another kiss. "Always."

A/N: y'all ignore anything that doesn't make sense, tbh i'm just like kento with icy hands so it was hard asf to imagine what it feels like to be the heater 😔what started out as a small 1k fic turned to 2.5k 😩 sorry just was lost in the delusions of having a man...also, whoever sent this ask, thank you 😭 this was so theraputic/beautiful to write i just had take some time to fully write out this daydream your ask sparked. ❤️

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tiredmamaissy · 2 years ago

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Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Chapter Five

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff.

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: nsfw, smut, fluff, profanity, age gap, size difference/kink, praise kink, breeding kink, alcohol consumption, tattooing, blood, sexual tension, masturbation, fingering, p in v, mating/bonding, mentions of knotting, let me know if I forgot anything?

Word Count: 11.3k (i know i said it wouldn't be long, i'm so sorry i literally do not have an excuse)

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Cheers to the final chapter of this series, guys. Thanks for coming along for the journey! 🤍🤍

Synopsis: Your family seeks uturu with the Metkayina in the village of Awa’atlu. You have a difficult time adjusting, and are assigned your own special teacher, Ralak.

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When he finished the bottle, he was woozy enough to crawl back into bed with you and snuggle behind you. His eyes finally closed when the first rays of sunshine beamed through the marui pod, shining on your face – waking you up.

----

The heavy, quick thump of your heart pounds in your ears, drowning out the waves that crash onto the shore outside your marui. Whilst the first rays of sunlight shine on your face, heating it up and making your eyelids flutter. Smacking your dry tongue against the roof of your mouth, the need for water becomes exigent.

You try to swallow whatever saliva you could pool in your cheeks, but it’s not nearly enough to clear the dryness of your throat. Looking to your left, you see Ralak sleeping soundly, head propped up on his makeshift bedhead with a hand resting on your inner thigh. He fell asleep mid-checking on you, wooziness of the fermented fruit getting the best of him.

As you sit up slowly, the soreness of your pelvis becomes undeniable. You take your time scooting back, leaning into the headboard as you catch your breath. Everything feels delayed, like pandora is spinning at an even slower pace. And that’s when the headache hits. Like you had just gotten in the middle of herd of stampeding 'angtsìk (hammerhead titanotheres).

You groan, ball of your palm rubbing a tight circle into your pulsing temple. A gust of wind blows the flap of your marui open, prickling your skin from the coolness of it. You feel your nipples harden into peaks on your chest, a hand quickly moving to cover them.

Oh.

Ralak had taken your iknimaya top off sometime during your sleep and hung it by the entrance of your marui to dry. It’s blood red leaves make a rustling noise as the draught of wind breezes through them, little rays of sunlight shining through the slivers of space.

Gently removing his hand from your thigh, you get out of the bed and make your way over to the swaying top. There’s a wobble in your step, dizziness swirling in your head making it hard to walk straight. When you finally get your hands on the top, you contemplate whether you should even put it on or not.

“As much as I love seeing you with nothing on...” A raspy voice startles you as two large hands slide down the sides of your waist, “...I love the way you look in that.” Ralak nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, rubbing his nose into the suppleness of your skin. “So, take care of it.” He mumbles, pressing his warm body against you. “And if you are cold... come back to bed.”

Is this my Ralak? You think, turning around to confirm if this talkative man is indeed your mate.

And that’s when you see that inebriated stare – the same gaze he had during his flashback a little over a week ago. Except, this time there’s a smug look to his face, corner of his lip curling upwards into a smirk. When you inspect a little further, you see the darkness under his eyes and the dampness of his hair.

“Lak. How long did you sleep? Are you–” You lean in to get a whiff of him, only to regret it a second later. “Eywa.” You mumble, looking at the shelf behind him to see the empty bottle of pxir. “Did you finish that last night? By yourself?”

“Mmm. Perhaps.” He hums, curving his back to snuzzle into your neck once more, snaking his arms around your waist to pull you in close.

“I see. So, it takes a bottle of pxir to get you to talk, hm? What else does a bottle of pxir do to you?” You tease, hand smoothing over his morning bulge, hard as rock and sheathed.

“Ah, tanhì. I am not that drunk.” He reaches behind you to retrieve the top. “...I would not do that before you are healed.” He pulls away from you, “I hurt you last night.” His voice falters as he slips the top over your head, securing the back with a quick knot.

You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth, purse your lips and shake your head. “Is that why you couldn’t sleep? Kept drinking? Ralak. I’m fine. Really.” You cup his cheek, trying to show him the sincerity in your eyes.

“I gave your father my word.” He utters, breaking eye contact.

Brows pinching in confusion, you tilt your head to try look him in the eye. “Your word?”

He finally lifts his gaze to meet yours. “To never let anything happen to you.”

For a moment, you feel those butterflies in your stomach, fluttering away like they did the first day you laid eyes on this man. It’s sweet. Seeing such a big, strong man feel this way over a little blood. Because that’s what it was – just a little blood. Surely, other na’vi experience something similar during their first time, too. You move your hand to cover your mouth, feeling a scoff making its way up your throat.

“Pfft. So that’s what you two were talking about?” You ask with raised brows, and when they pinch together you let out a chuckle. “You were trying to fuck me, not kill me Lak.” You jester, but he didn’t find it as funny as you did, glaring down at you with a deadpan expression.

“Look, I wanted it. I still want it.” You grip his jawbone, pulling him in to look at you in the eye. “And I feel fine now.” You tell a white lie, hoping to make this gentle giant feel better.

He shakes his head, letting out a long sigh. “No. You do not. You still smell... wounded.” He utters the last word with a wince. “And I have been checking.”

Nothing gets past this man. Not when he has mastered the ability to tune into his body and all his senses. You gnaw on your bottom lip, little pointed canines nicking the thin flesh. The metallic taste of blood floods your tongue, setting off a spark in your brain. You scan his bare, sinewy torso and catch sight of his shoulder. Taking a quick breath in, you understand what he means by a ‘wounded’ scent.

“Well, I hurt you too. So, we’re even. Okay?” You insist, hand grazing over the scabbed-up bite mark on his shoulder.

He cocks his brow and scoffs, quickly glancing at the dark red indentations before looking back down at you like you just told the joke of the century. “That little scratch?”

Your drop your hand from his jaw and straighten your smile, mirroring his blank expression from earlier. Ralak and his word infamous word ‘scratch’. And most importantly, why didn’t he find your actual joke funny? Maybe you should make the best of this situation, then. Your eyes become beady, peering at him with limited vision.

“Fine. You hurt me.” You state, shrugging your shoulders a bit. His brows exchange a peck, ears twitching and jaw clenching. Hearing the confirmatory words made his heart sink. “But there is one thing you can do to make it up to me.”

You walk behind him towards the shelf of different sized and coloured bottles – some dusty, some not – and grab the fullest one. When you spin around, he has the guiltiest expression on his face, prepared to do anything to remedy the situation. It almost makes you want to stop with your little scheme and cradle him close into your bosom until he knows it’s okay. But not after his little scoff.

“My tattoo.” You sing, voiced feigned with innocence.

He exhales a sigh, smile slowly creeping up on his face once he’s figured you out. “Alright, little one.” He chuckles, stretching over you to grab the drinking bowl from the top shelf – far out your reach. He plunks it into your hand and takes the bottle from your grasp, popping it open with his back-teeth. With a few glugs your cup is full, prompting him to nudge it to your lips.

“You drink. I get everything ready.” He says before turning his heel to walk out of the marui pod. As he’s lifting the flap to the door, he projects his voice, “It will help with your head.”

It feels like an eternity since Ralak left, leaving you with nothing but you and this drink. You rotate the cup, whirling the iridescent colours of the pxir. It smells much better than the bottle you shared last night, and tastes better too.

It’s sweeter, with a slight bitter aftertaste. You knock it back as if it were a medicinal concoction that your grandmother gave to you, wincing as the burn trails down your throat. You let out an ah and lay back into the cot, waiting for Ralak’s return. It’s been almost an hour now, and yet –

Still no Ralak.

You get up with a huff, pacing around the marui as you fidget with your thumbs. The nerves are setting in knowing that you’re about to get your first tattoo. But what makes it worse is where you’re getting this damn tattoo. Anxious – and thirsty – you pour yourself another cup, downing it in one go. Then another. And another.

At this point, it’s got no aftertaste at all. Just pure sweetness.

Once you swallow and go to put the cup down for good, you see Ralak standing by the marui door, hands above his head holding onto the stilt. It’s as if he were there watching you, waiting patiently for you to become aware his presence.

Unclothed and exposed right in front of your eyes.

The same drunken eyes peer back at you, ocean blue with a glint of gold, slightly lidded and glazed with something deeper than just lust. He stares at you longingly, wet hair plastered to his chest, right between his erect nipples. The more your gaze trails down his body, the more you realise how strong this man really is.

Each dip and ridge of his muscular physique is on full display, crossed ribs protruding from the stretched position he’s assuming. It’s like he’s posing like this just to... tease you. Because when you wonder down a little further, counting the stripes of that tattoo, he clears his throat. Loud. As if to say, ‘eyes up here’.

No sort of grating noise could avert your gaze from this. His cock.

Its thick. Veiny. So heavy that it hangs down, resting against his thigh. His balls stay firm underneath it, sides of them barely peeking out around his girth. His head is barely sheathed, just the tip poking out – glistening with a tiny bead of precum. You swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth, reminding yourself to breathe.

“See something you like?” His voice is deep and gruff, hands falling from the stilt to his sides.

“Mmm. Perhaps.” You repeat his words from earlier in a similar tone of voice.

“Ah.” He says with a slight smirk, bending down to reach for the small woven basket. “Is that so?”

“Mhm.” You hum, smile growing wider as he approaches you.

At this point, you’re all woozy in the head – bubbly yet heavy. Your shoulders bow, weight of your body increasing as the minutes pass. And soon your eyes are so lidded that you can barely see the man in front of you. Letting out a slow breath, you blink lethargically, leaning in to see what’s in the basket.

“Been a good girl for me, I see.” Ralak husks, observing your less than sober state.

“Only because you took so long.” You retort, hand darting to grab onto his bicep for support.

Hand missing his arm entirely, you lose your balance and start stumbling towards the basket. He catches you, body slumping into his as he steadies you. He takes a quick glance over to the half empty bottle on the shelf, before looking back down at you with wide eyes and a growing smirk.

“Well, my little rou tanhi [drunk freckle/star]. I had to hunt for squid, didn’t I?” He says, dipping his hand into the basket to retrieve the squids’ ink sac.

“That’s – that’s what you’re putting inside my skin?” You hiccup, examining the black, blubbery sac. It looks like a vein, with a more bulbous end.

Ralak nods as he moves quickly, setting up the area as best and clean as he can. He pulls out two low stools from the corner of his marui. Laying a thin cloth over one stool, he carefully places the delicate ink sac on it, reaching back into the basket to retrieve the other items.

Sitting on the other stool, he pulls out a bowl, blackened by the ink from his own tattoo, and a wooden tool. It’s lengthy, with the bone-white tooth of a skimwing lodged into it. Their teeth are needle-like, piercing the skin with ease and precision. Using the tooth, he pierces the ink sac and pours all the contents into the stained bowl.

“Where?” Ralak asks nonchalantly, taking out a similar tool, without the pointed end.

You close the distance between you two, resting a hand on his shoulder and pushing your crotch into his face. His head snaps up, eyes directly in front of... you. Your exposed skin. Your soft folds, touching one another to hide your clit. His eyes widen a bit, gaze coming to a standstill to take it all in.

“See something you like?” You giggle, breaking him out of his trance.

He swallows thickly, eyelids fluttering as he tries to peel his eyes away from such a... delectable sight. They trail up your body, lingering at your crimson-coloured top, before landing on your downward gaze. He cocks a brow inquisitively, quickly glancing back down to your bare pelvis before locking eyes with you once more.

Ralak places a gentle hand on your lower abdomen, “Here?”

You smile, nodding your head slowly. “Just like yours.” You say quietly, hand momentarily lifting from his shoulder to tie his hair into a loose, messy bun. “Exactly... like yours.”

It’s the way you said the words that sent a shiver down his spine. He tries to fight the curl of his lips, denying himself the pleasure from you wanting a tattoo just like his. There’s something about you with a matching tattoo that makes him feel loved, special – horny.

“Are you sure, tanhì?” He asks through a low, steady voice, peering up at you achingly.

“Yes. It is special to me.” You gulp, nodding slightly. “To us. To mark the beginning of our life together.”

He gives you a firm nod, dropping his head to smile his growing, beaming smile. Hand falling from your abdomen, he fetches a small cloth and a jelly-like substance from the basket. Your stomach tenses when he smears the cold substance on your skin, rubbing it in until it evaporates.

After cleaning the area, he readies himself with the pointed tool, dipping the needle-like tooth into the bowl of ink. Barely grazing the skin, he traces out the design of the tattoo on your skin, providing himself with a pattern to tattoo with precision. That alone hurt.

“Wait. I-I need more.” You say quickly, voice laced with anxiety.

Ralak takes a glimpse at the nearly empty bottle on the shelf and continues with his task. “Give it more time.” He mutters, dipping the pointed-tip of the tooth into the ink, positioning it carefully over the pattern.

Tip of the needle hovering a millimetre away from your deep blue skin, he waits patiently for your body to tell him to start. After a few moments, he senses you relaxing, taking it at his cue to start the process. With the end of the blunt tool, he taps the end of the pointed tool, penetrating your top of skin with the tooth.

Ralak’s gazes snaps up to yours as soon as he removes the needle, “hurts?”

The sting is barely noticeable, feeling more like heat than pain. You shake your head with a wobbly smile and tighten your grip on his shoulder. He continues with the tattoo, piercing your skin continuously until your little nails sink so deep into his skin it draws a little blood.

“Sorry.” You utter out a strained apology, realizing you’ve practically mutilated both shoulders now.

He lets out a deep chuckle, shaking his head a bit as he pricks you once more, gently blowing on your reddened skin. The cool air helps a bit, but at this point, it’s welted and raised – stained with a sheer layer of blood. He’s only just finished one of the 6 stripes on the left side of your navel, and the first eclipse is already starting. Resting your free hand on your hip, you take a few deliberate breaths, doing your best to slow your galloping heart.

It’s such an intimate, overwhelming experience.

“A break? With some more pxir, yes?” He suggests, already putting down the tattooing tool.

“Yes... please.” You groan with trembling lungs, legs going all wobbly from how long you’ve been standing.

You go to lay down on the cot, spreading your legs just enough for him to see. He tries his best not to look, immediately dropping his head and fixating his gaze onto his darkened fingertips. But with a little, filthy moan of ‘pain’, his gaze flies up, landing right where you want it to.

Legs spreading a little more, he becomes mesmerized by the little show you’re putting on for him. He stares through lidded eyes that become glossy with greed and desire. Like he wants to pin them down and devour you on the spot. He huffs out a sigh, reluctantly slamming his eyes shut, denying himself the pleasure.

“Tanhì. Do not tempt me. You now have two wounds to heal from.” Ralak utters the words in a low voice.

Oh, right. Choosing to have your tattoo in this particular spot would definitely make things... a bit more painful. You close your legs, accepting your failed attempt to seduce your mate and lie back into the soft pillow. The ceiling is spinning, but not nearly as fast as it should be for this tortuous process to be over with.

Rolling your head to the side, you look at Ralak, whose eyes are still closed. “Lak.” You whisper, prompting him to look at you. “I could use more pxir now.”

Ralak stands up and walks over to the shelf and retrieves the bottle. He pours the rest of it into two cups, one for him and one for you. Handing you your drink, he sits next to you on the bed, resting his hand on your inner thigh. You sit up and take the cup, chugging it before he can even put his to his lips.

“Another.” You mumble, handing him back the empty cup.

“Easy, my paysyul.” He chuckles, pouring you another drink.

----

It’s been a week since you got your first tattoo, which took two days to complete, leaving you dumbfounded at how Ralak was able to tattoo himself. Since, you’ve not only added three beads to your songchord, but also a piece of the cork from the bottle you shared after your... eventful first time together.

You had pretty much healed three days after your iknimaya night, but your tattoo remains irritated. Nothing you couldn’t handle, just a little inflammation with an itch you couldn’t quite scratch. Not when Ralak’s watching, at least. He’d be quick to shoot you a scowl, instilling some level of obedience in your little, defiant body.

Despite his continuous repudiation of your attempts to become intimate, he would do his nightly... examinations. Insisting that you still smelled ‘wounded’, he’d spread your legs during your slumber and ‘check on you’. Or maybe it was more so to check you out. To see your plump folds and the way your little nub peeks out between them.

Sometimes he’d let his gaze linger a little too long to be considered an act of benevolence. But rather, an act of greed and lust. But he just couldn’t help it, you look so... perfect. So untouched. Soft and supple. Like silk under his calloused touch. It’s maddening, taking everything in him to look away and close your legs.

Truth be told, he was unsure of what he was really looking for, all he was going from was your scent. He knew it was radiating from this specific area, and truly didn’t want to take any chances and accept your advances if you weren’t fully healed and ready. At that point, you had just accepted the way things were and let him get along with whatever he needed to do to feel better.

And you’d pretend to be asleep, enjoying whatever little touch you could get from him.

Other than that, Ralak has been nothing but sweet and patient with you, as he usually is. Bringing you breakfast in bed was one of his favourite things to do, other than cooking the meal itself. Meticulously diced fruits and freshly caught fish, plated perfectly, and presented by the chef himself – in all his naked glory.

That was another thing.

After mating, Ralak seemed to have lost his tewng [loincloth] altogether. Always walking around with nothing but maybe his cumberband or chest piece. At first, it was fun and tempting, putting a shy smirk on your face whenever you’d see his heavy cock laying freely between his thighs. But now, it’s just downright torment – teasing at its finest.

No matter how many times you ‘accidentally’ flashed him, bent over a little too much, or just straight up went naked too, he would continue with the task at hand, completely unbothered. You could look, but you couldn’t touch. Until you grew so fed up when you saw him in the most torturous pose of them all.

Until tonight.

----

Ralak sits comfortably on his knees in the soft, wet sand, sharpening the point of his spear. He’s so focused on his task that he doesn’t even realize your stare, nor the little strand of curly hair in the centre of his forehead. Even kneeling, this giant remains... a giant. Thick and burly, muscular physique defined from the way the last rays of sunshine on his skin.

His freckles twinkle, darker blue swirled and striped patterns moving with how his muscles tighten and untighten as he presses the waterstone against the blade. Every now and then he would dip the stone into the water to rewet it.

You watch him intently, counting the number of times he rewets the waterstone. How many times he swipes the blade. How many abs pop out as he leans further back to get a better look at the entire length of the spear. How many stripes in that tattoo that started it all. All of which, turn out the be the same number.

Six.

And once you got to the sixth stripe, your eyes trail down its length, catching sight of the singular dot right at the base of his cock. Swallowing the excessive saliva pooling in your mouth, your lidded gaze pierces into him, taking in every small detail of his cock. Barely sheathed. Thick. Slightly veiny and darker towards the glossy tip.

Then, he chucks the spears over his shoulder as if they were little twigs back from hometree, making a clunking noise so loud you couldn’t help but avert your piercing gaze upwards. You bite your lip from the motion, so touch deprived you begin to fantasize about being his little vultsyìp [stick; branch] again, draped over on his shoulder as he carries you back up to the marui.

Yet he remains focused on anything but you, trying his upmost best to maintain what sliver of composure you allow him to have left. The restraint is visibly plastered on his face – gathered brows and a tensed jaw. You slide a hand behind your back, untying the knot of your loincloth, allowing it to drop to your feet.

“Mind having a look? It’s a little itchy.” You ask, voice feigned with innocence.

His concerned gaze snaps up to your tattoo, eyes darting in all directions to scan the inking properly. After seeing that it’s just fine, his features soften upon realizing what you were actually doing. “Looks fine.” He mutters, eyelids fluttering a few times, landing his gaze upon yours.

And when you meet his ocean blue eyes, you swear they lustre over with something of wanton – of greed. Silently telling you how badly he wants to pin you down into the sand and slide himself inside you. To fill up your little body with every single inch of himself, until you’re moaning nothing but his name. You can feel the flutter of your stomach – excitement from thinking your attempt at seducing this overly-patient giant was finally a success.

Then he looks away.

As if he didn’t just fuck you with his eyes. As if he didn’t just worsen the sexual tension that’s been brewing between you two for over the past week, and honestly – few months. Eywa, that makes you frustrated. Fuck – no, it makes you angry. So upset to the point you huff out a ‘hmmph’ and walk away to prepare yourself for an early bed.

“Tanhì!” Ralak shouts after you, shuffling to his feet with the spears still on his shoulder. “Y/n!”

You ignore his calls, storming up to the marui pod. You sit on the end of the bed, face buried in your hands as you try to calm down. But the more you sit here, the bigger the flame grows in your chest. It’s obvious that you’re ready to try again, yet he’s blatantly ignoring your advances. At this point, you may have to try and pleasure yourself.

Keyword being ‘try’.

You’d never been able to make yourself feel all that great, let alone cum. But at this rate it seems like you have no other choice. That’s it. You’ll make yourself cum. No need for him, right? Right. You knew Ralak wouldn’t follow you when you’re this upset. He’d let you come to him when ‘you’re ready’, rather than invading your personal space.

You hype yourself up, lying flat on your back and closing your eyes. You allow for your wandering hands to barely graze your body, hardening your nipples into peaks almost instantly. Parting the red leaves of your top, you expose your breasts, thumbs giving them both a flick.

Listen to your body. Ralak’s voice echoes in your mind – an intrusive memory resurfacing all on its own.

Rather than scaring you, his voice arouses you, back bowing against the bed in response. A hand slips down your stomach, finding comfort between your thighs. You squeeze your hand with your thighs, fingers pressing into the softness of your folds. You let out a breathy, soft moan, tips of your digits now parting your pussy lips.

The cool air hits your exposed bundle of nerves, having you clench around nothingness. Pressing the pads of four fingers onto your sensitive nub, you rub slow, loose circles into it. Little shocks travel through you in jolts, spasming your thigh muscles. It feels like too much, but not enough all together.

You grunt, level of frustration doubling by the second. Dipping into your core, you slicken your fingertips, gliding them back up to your clit. You try tighter, faster circles, and apply a little less pressure this time. And fuck, did that make a difference. The wetness of your fingers had them gliding effortlessly over that little nub, making it stiffen beneath your fingertips.

Head sinking into the softness of his makeshift pillows, your mouth hangs agape, breathy moans losing their softness and turning into little mewls and whines. Your hips lift off the bed, chasing your building orgasm. You try to zero in on the feeling, but it feels so weird, but oh-so fucking good at the same time. It’s almost like the flame in your chest spread throughout your body – heat pooling in your core.

“What are you doing?” A thick, accented voice pierces the air, gruff and monotonous.

You’re too into the moment to stop – to even bat an eye. You can hear your mate’s voice, but what you’re doing feels so good that you can’t even tell if it’s just another intrusive thought or if its real. You feel your toes curl, hand working even faster as your stomach muscles tense up. You’re so, so close.

And Ralak could tell.

He stands there, beads of water from the ocean rolling off his body, dripping through the cracks of the woven marui floor. Hair plastered to his chest; he stares at the sight unfolding in front of him through lidded eyes. He grits his teeth to hold his tongue, but he couldn’t deny the way seeing you do this to yourself makes him feel.

Aroused. Frustrated. Jealous. Possessive.

“I said. What are you doing?” Ralak growls low in his chest, thick fingers gripping your wrist to put a stop to your frantic movements.

“No. Don’t.” You huff out, fighting his grasp to pick up the pace of your fingers. “Trying to – fuck. Trying to c-cum!”

“I can see that. But why?” He asks through another growl, letting go of your wrist.

“’c-cause – ‘cause you’ve given me no other choice! You won’t even – haah ah – you won’t even touch me, Lak!” You whine loudly, desperately trying to re-establish the perfect movements and pace you had before.

Ralak does nothing but stand stock-still for a few moments, watching his numeyu [student] work hard to make herself cum for the first time. Pride swells his chest, seeing you so close – yet so far away. And for a second, a pang of pity clenches his heart, brows creasing as he watches you squirm about. Has he really been that distant? Distant enough to make you resort to self-pleasure when you have a perfectly capable mate right here?

“Touch you, hm?” He hums lowly, resting his hand on your sweaty thigh, “like this?”

“N-No. Y-You know what I want.” You barely sputter out, shaking your head side to side.

“Say it. Say the words.” He growls, fingertips sinking into your skin.

“Oh. Please, Lak. Please touch me. It’s been too long!” A frustrated, desperate groan falls from your lips, legs snapping wide open.

His eyes widen at the sight of you so vulnerable and exposed; puffy, glistening clit on full display. Gaze flying up to yours, he sees the utter state of desperation plastered all over your face. You already look so fucked out, brows pinched, and lips parted – eyes so lidded he can barely see the glint of gold in them.

“Here?” He breathes, sliding his hand up your thigh and barely brushing his three fingers against your sticky clit.

“Mmm – please.” You pant, grabbing his wrist to position his hand properly. “Right h-here.”

“Ah.” Ralak finally takes a seat on the edge of the cot, eyes fixed on your carnal expression. He presses right into the bundle of nerves, sending a jolt through your legs. “And what next, my numeyu?”

Grip tightening around his wrist, you move his hand erratically, hips moving along with it. You hear the click of his tongue and look up to see the slight shake of his head and curl of his lips. That same smug face he makes when you’re not quite getting something right.

“Karyu. [teacher]” You moan softly, doe eyes peering up into his, lashes fluttering as you blink repeatedly.

His brows jump at the word. It’s been a while since he’s heard it fall from your lips. Your flushed, swollen lips. He looks back up to your little fucked out eyes, glossy with tears and want. He hates to see you cry but for some reason the tears you’re fighting back are only making him hornier. Is that how bad you want his cock? Bad enough to cry about it? His hung cock springs from his thigh, jumping up to slap his stomach.

“Must your karyu teach you how to cum again?” Ralak growls, sliding a finger down to your slickened entrance. “Hm? Were our lessons not enough?” All you can do is mewl and claw at his wrist, lolling your head from side to side. “Answer me.” He says roughly, prodding at your hole with very tip of his digit.

“Yes! Fuck – yes. Please, t-teach me.” You beg breathily, rolling your hips down onto his single digit. Having one last, quick glance between your legs, he clenches his jaw as he slides his finger inside you. And when it comes to a hilt, a moan of relief evades your agape mouth, head sinking back into the soft pillow.

For a fleeting moment, he remains completely still, ensuring that you’re alright. Ralak stares at you, eyes darting in all directions to detect even a hint of pain etched into your features. A brow jumps when he realises that all you’re feeling is pure ecstasy. Taking this as his cue to continue, he pulls his finger back a bit, lining it up with the gummy part of your heat.

“If you want to cum...” He roughly curls his finger, applying a blissful pressure to your sweet spot, earning him a sudden whine from your lips, “...you touch right here. Understood?”

“Mhm. Mhm.” You frantically nod as you hum the words, feeling an itchy feeling brew in your core. You need to scratch it. So. Fucking. Bad. And his finger just isn’t enough. “Mh – more!”

“More?” He smirks, swiping his thumb over your clit. “Like that?” His voice is gruff, and anything but innocent. Like he takes joy in seeing you in such a desperate, needy state. “Or is it her –”

“For the love of Eywa, Ralak. Just fuck me, please!” You cry out, tears now rolling down your cheeks. If he didn’t take care of you now, you’d just lose it. He lets loose a loud chuckle, predatory gaze boring into your innocence. As if your little pleas and begs were entertaining him – getting him off.

“Take all three, then I think about it.” He teases with a cocked brow, pulling out of you tenderly to realign two digits at your opening.

“Y-Yes – Just, hurry Lak.” You whine, tugging at his wrist to sink his fingers inside you. “Oh, shit.” You exhale a sigh of relief. The stretch is divine, filling you up and just barely scratching that itch. To have his two thick fingers buried inside you is like ice on a burn, soothing all your pent-up frustration.

Ralak groans at the way you’re squeezing his digits, pussy so soaked they slip in and out with ease. As badly as he wants to let you know you’re being such a good girl for him, he decides to hold his praise for the bigger stretch. His last finger. Waiting patiently for your body to tell him you’re ready, he uses his free hand to massage your clit.

He fingers you roughly, pussy walls clenching and unclenching around him, telling him to go even deeper inside. Your whole-body squirms around, hips stuttering from your unadulterated desperation. The little, sweet cries and mewls escaping your lips are like music to his ears, sinking him deeper into his state of arousal.

Ralak situates himself between your legs, preparing you for the next stetch. Last time, you took it well, and perhaps if you hadn’t used your mate’s word against him, you would have had more time to adjust to all his fingers. The desperation you feel now is nearly as intense as your iknimaya tonight, but you find the strength to bite your tongue and allow Ralak to take over completely.

With your body now in a state of pure submission, Ralak leans in to kiss you, slowly sliding his last finger inside you. Your moan of pleasure is muffled by his soft lips, last knuckles meeting the softness of your plump pussy lips. He pulls away from you, moving his wet kisses up to your ear.

“That’s my good girl.” He whispers in a gruff voice, bottom lip brushing against the lobe of your ear. Angling his wrist to prod right into your sweet spot, he pumps all three fingers in and out of you.

“Feels... s-so – so good.” You pant quietly, rolling your hips into him. He can feel your body opening even more for him, sweet nectar dripping down to his wrists. After two more pumps of his fingers, you push him away from you, causing him to settle into the dips of his feet.

Both of you pant for air, chests heaving wildly, fully exposed and on edge. You can see the way his cock twitches to be sunk inside something – anything. It’s throbbing and so hard it must be painful, bead after bead of precum just oozing from his slit. It’s almost as if he enjoyed depriving himself of the pleasure of your tight cunt around his cock.

But tonight, there’s a glint in his eye.

A predatory, rapacious one. And when you exchange glares, there’s a silent understanding between the two of you. The understanding that you both want it just as bad as the other. The understanding that his patience has been stretched thin – so thin that all he needs is a little push.

“My body is ready, Ralak. I want you inside me, please.” You beg pathetically, looking him deep in his eyes.

Your sensitive pussy walls ache to know what it feels like to tighten around him, all gummy and slimy from the slick your body won’t stop producing. It’s like it’s in overdrive, sensing how big your mate is, and doing what it needs to accommodate his sheer size. Your legs spread wider, glistening pussy on full display – acting as bait to lure him in.

Ralak repositions himself closer between your legs, staring intently at the soft flesh, flushed red with arousal. Gaze darting up to yours, he sees your eyes gloss over with want, more tears of desperation threatening to roll down your heated cheeks.

He can tell you were ready, body completely submitting itself to him and his touches. He’s never seen you this needy, not even in heat. This past week has been tortuous for the two of you, waiting patiently for you to heal fully before touching you in the way you want.

“You must tell me if it hurts. Please tanhì.” He says low in his chest, rubbing his crown of his cock between your slickened folds.

“I will. Please.” A breathy whine parts your lips, hips shimmying down towards his. Left leg loosely resting on his thigh, you hold your right leg back, knee brushing against your shoulder.

He looks as if he were in pain, grimacing from the anticipation of possibly hurting you again. He ensures to take his time, aware of how well-endowed he is beneath his loincloth. He begins rubbing soft, loose circles in your swollen, sticky clit. It’s all red and puffy, making wet, sloppy noises with each stroke with his tip. He lingers there for as long as he can, playing in your wetness in hopes it’ll make it less painful for you.

Now with your verbal consent, he leans in, supporting his body weight with his hands nestled by your sides. His hips snap, throbbing, veiny cock sliding over your tender clit. You feel his warm, swollen tip poke into your lower stomach, pearls of precum leaking into the dip of your navel. He pulls back, trying to line his cock up with your entrance once more, hips stammering to sink himself inside you.

Fat tip bucking against your tight hole, it slides between your pussy lips and over the bundle of shot nerves again. You can’t help but moan, the sensation of his warm cock rubbing against you only makes the need to be fucked grow stronger. His breaths turn raggedy, huffing and puffing hot air as he snaps his hips back a final time. You reach down with a trembling hand and grip his girth, positioning him at your entrance.

“Relax for me, tanhì.” He grunts, shuffling his left knee closer towards you. “Let me in.” He feels you loosen up, releasing the breath you weren’t aware that you were holding. “A little more. There you go.” He hums, point of his tip now slowly breaking the resistance.

He pushes gently. Carefully. Slowly. Your chins meet your chests, both watching as his tip pops inside you. You take a sharp, shaky breath, feeling the immense pressure of something so thick bury itself into your tight opening. Eyes flicking up to yours, he searches your face for any kind of discomfort.

“Oh Lak. ‘ts s-so big.” You whimper under your breath, hand flying up to grip his forearm. “D-deeper.”

Inebriated eyes struggle to widen at your words, just like he struggles to fight against his urges to slam the rest of his cock inside you. He takes a deep breath, mesmerized by the way your cunt sucks him in another two inches. You’re so tight that he can’t help but grimace, brows tightening from the way you’re pinching him.

He stops, wanting to let you adjust to what’s inside you so far, only for you to wrap your slender, soft tail around his thigh. You know that it drives him crazy, it’s one of his favourite parts of you. A gruff grunt vibrates in his throat, hips bucking on their own to sink another couple inches inside your wet, tight cunt.

“Deeper. Deeper.” You blubber, grip on his forearm tightening as he obliges. You want all of him, every, single, fucking inch of him to stuff you until you feel queasy. Until he couldn’t push anymore. Until he can’t do anything but grind himself inside you. “Deeper!” You cry out a pathetic whine, just as his mushroomy head presses intp your cervix.

Ralak continues to push against the resistance, biting down on his bottom lip from the way you squeeze him so tightly. He bottoms out in your slippery pussy, his tattoo finally kissing yours. They align so perfectly, each line pressed against one another with precision.

He’s so deep inside you, that it feels like he’s in your tummy, knocking the air out of your lungs. Your mouth hangs open, tongue relaxed against your bottom lip as saliva dribbles down your chin. Brows kissing in fervour, you stare into his eyes while you relish in the sensation of your mate all the way inside you for the first time. He watches as the colour in your face turns almost purple, nails sinking so deep into his skin that they draw a little blood.

“Breathe for me, tanhì.” He huffs, easing up on his pushes. With his reminder, you gasp for air, salty tears flowing onto your tongue. “You are doing so well. You know that?”

“Oh – Ralak.” You let out a sweet, little cry, nipples hardening into stiff peaks from his extra hoarse voice. You couldn’t stop the tears; they always came when you feel too much of anything. And right now, you were feeling so full, so good. Even the stretch feels good, the sting and hint of pain from his cock burrowing all the way inside you.

He could feel the blood slowly trickle down his forearm, but the way your tight walls are nipping at him is much worse. The scent of his blood mixes in the air with the scent of your arousal, sending his nostrils fluttering in fear that he’s hurt you again.

“Feeling pain?” He asks, breaking eye contact briefly to check if you’re bleeding again. An expression of relief washes over him when he realizes that you’re not – it’s all just him. All he can see is the supple skin pulled taut around his cock, doing its best to stretch wide enough for him.

“No.” You lie, afraid it’ll be a repeat of last time. The pain is more like a burn, but the way the ridge of his cockhead pushes up into your gummy walls masks it just right.

“Tanhì.” He rasps, glancing at your disconnected kurus laying on your stomach, silently asking to make tsaheylu – for the truth.

“I – I mean, a little.” You confess, holding both your kurus in next to each other. “Just... stings. Feel me.” You breathe, urge to bond so consuming that your tendrils dance wildly as you move them closer together. Tsaheylu is made hastily, kurus tugging together with a quick, sharp movement. You stare into each other’s lidless eyes, pupils blown to full capacity.

Ralak’s ears tuck next to his skull, brows pinching and lips parting. In an instant, he can feel everything you’re feeling, and for a few moments its just overwhelming. He feels the slight burn between your legs and pants a few times, breath syncing with yours.

“See? You feel…good. Really good.” You moan lowly, finally relaxing your stomach muscles.

“Good.” He gulps, corners of his lips curling upwards. He stays as still as he can, waiting for your body’s command to move. “You feel… tight.”

There’s a moment of silence where you both take in how one another feels. How you can feel each vein of his cock. The way his mushroomy head throbs against your cervix. How warm and soft you feel around his length, sucking him in with greed.

It almost feels like it did when you mated – blown pupils and heightened senses. It’s just another way of connecting with each other. Ralak drops his head, gaze landing on your tattoo, distorted from the way your belly bulges from his cock.

“Oh shit.” He curses under his breath, voice laced with panic. He begins pulling out, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist. “That must hurt.” He says, putting all his weight on one hand to caress the bump protruding from your abdomen with the other.

You look down to see his fingers graze over the bulge, shock raising your brows. “I- It doesn’t. I’m fine.”

His hand continues to stroke the bump, fantasizing about how one day this bump would be by something else entirely – his baby growing in your womb. He tries his hardest to fight the arousal brewing in his core, the type that makes his hips snap forward all on their own. All so he can see that bulge protrude even more.

Ralaks’ breathing is so heavy and hard that it’s audible – a low, continuous growl rumbling deep in his chest. Hand slowly sliding down your tattoo, he presses the ball of his palm into your pelvis as his thumb caresses your puffy clit. It makes you squirm a little, walls relaxing and contracting around his cock. He can tell that your body is ready for him, pussy producing so much slick it’s dripping onto his swollen balls.

“Please….” You moan softly, trying to grind into him. “Need you so bad, Lak.”

“Tell me what you need, my little paysyul.” He groans, inching closer to your face, hand moving from your clit to cup your breast.

“Need you… need you to fuck m-me.” Your breath hitches at the last word, body shuddering from the way his slickened, calloused thumb grazes over your nipple.

“Fuck you, hm?” His accented voice is thick with want – with rapacity. He thrusts into you suddenly, knocking the air out your lungs. “Like that?”

“Mmnfuck! Ye-s.” You inhale shakily, nodding reassuringly as you claw at his face to pull him closer to you. He quickly props himself up on both his elbows, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours.

Ralak clenches and unclenches his jaw, ears twitching in synchrony, as he tries to resist scratching the itch to pound into you like his own little personal fucktoy. No matter how badly he wants to. To pump you full of his seed. To breed you. To knot you.

He sighs, momentarily closing his eyes to regain his composure. It’s already here, the animalistic instinct to turn you into a vessel to carry his offspring. It’s so close. Creeping up on him like a menace.

His rut.

Though it’s not due for another week, the way you’re staring up at him, eyes glazed over with need, begging him to fill you up didn’t help. Yet, he bites his lip through it, determined to make your real first time a special one. An enjoyable experience. So much so, that he forgets it’s his first time too.

Gently, Ralak. He reminds himself, rocking into you languidly, back muscles rippling with every thrust. Glancing down, he witnesses the bulge move as he rolls his hips into you. Sticky pelvises connected by strings of slick as he pulls out, he grunts quietly, feeling ashamed by how aroused watching you stretch to these lengths makes him feel.

He leans into you, peppering wet kisses down your jaw line, working his way up to the lobe of your ear. “Being such a good girl for me, hm? For your mate.”

You can feel the way his cock moves inside you, so deep and thick that every part of you is being stimulated all at once. You can’t even think straight, not with the way he’s grunting and whispering sweet praises into your ear. You hold on tightly to your mate, wrapping your arms around his neck as he moves at a steady pace.

That hint of pain quickly subsides, morphing into waves of pleasure so intense that it’s etched into your features. Your little mewls and whines turn into soft moans, breathy and shaky from the way he fucks right into your gummy sweet spot. You tighten your hold around his waist with your legs, encouraging him to fasten his pace and deepen his strokes.

“Please. More! Need more of you!” You cry out, nails scraping down his back to pull him in closer.

“Patience, tanhì.” He huffs, moving his kisses down to your neck, suckling on your supple skin – leaving little bruise like marks behind. “So tiny” A kiss right on the column of your throat, “So tight.” A gentle roll of his hips as he pulls back to look you in the eyes. “My sevin [pretty].”

“Ralak.” You moan softly as you lift your hips up into him, feeling absolutely nothing but absolute and utter bliss at this point. “Please.”

He rolls his hips into you once more, slowly, and tenderly, ridge of his cockhead gliding past your swelling sweet spot. “My mate.” He groans, pulling back just to push himself inside you at a torturously slow pace. “All mine, yes?”

“Yes. Yes. All yours, ma’ lak.” You breathe, snaking your arms around his neck to tug him into you. “F-Faster.” You ask coyly, trying to keep your legs as wide open as you possibly can.

Ralak moves a little faster, but not nearly as fast as you need. He’s so big – so thick that it doesn’t matter the angle, some part of his cock is stimulating every part of you. Looking down, you see himself only halfway buried inside you, refusing to let your tattoos touch anymore.

Beady, displeased eyes snap back up to meet his, “I want to feel all of you.”

Ralak almost laughs, but instead cocks his brow and smirks. He leans down to play in the dip of your collarbone with his tongue, moving quickly to pepper a few kisses on the curve of your shoulder. “You like pain that much?”

For second, you really think about it. His cock is so deep that you feel like you can barely take a full breath. Not to mention the bulge from him being inside you alone. Yet you want all of it. Perhaps you do like pain. But with the way he’s touching you it’s hard to think clearly whatsoever. All that’s running through your head is Ralak pinning you into a mating press and pounding you the way you want.

“I like Ralak. And if Ralak means pain...” You wrap your arms and legs tightly around him, using all your weight and strength to roll him on to his back and situate yourself comfortably on top of him. “...then yes, I like pain.”

“Is that right?” He huffs as his back slams into the ground, hands instinctively flying to grip the softness of your hips.

“Yes.” You let out a shaky confirmation, bringing your knees to your chest so you’re squatting over him. Sinking all the way down onto his cock, he watches as you suck in every single inch of him with ease. You’re tight – really tight – but you were practically made for him. He exhales a chuckle, finding it interesting how such a little thing could take his cock so well.

“What?” You snap, hands pressing into his firm chest as you reposition yourself on top of him.

“Who knew someone as small as you...” He slides his hands from your hips to your waist, “... would be made for someone like me.”

You gasp as he completely bottoms out inside you, lungs filling with the scent of his arousal, “Someone s-so big?”

He chuckles, calloused thumbs grazing over your raised tattoo, entranced how you can make such an inking like his look so good. There’s just something about the way it trails down to the most sensitive, vulnerable area of your body that drives him crazy.

“I can see why you couldn’t stop staring at mine.” He husks, hand sliding over the stripes to feel their raised texture.

The sensation makes your hips snap back, tattoo still a little sore and itchy. But the way his cock tilts right into your walls washes away the sting with a wave of pleasure. And soon your hips are stuttering all on their own, chasing that budding heat in your core. Every time you move back it feels like a jolt of white-hot pleasure, and when you move forward it’s like –

Satiation.

A feeling of fullness and satisfaction, so intense you feel like you’re about to explode. The sensation is a new one altogether, something you’ve never felt before. It’s so much – so overwhelming you could just scream. It’s like a pressure in your chest, like a heated pot with an airtight lid, about to pop and release.

Your body chases it, grinding back and forth into him at an unrelenting tempo. And the sounds that are coming from your mouth are just straight up vulgar. At this rate, you’re using him for your own pleasure, frenzied movements only increasing in speed and force. He’s so deep the bump protruding from your abdomen has completely deformed your tattoo, pushing against his thumbs.

He presses into it, feeling the crown of his cock through your soft skin. You’re arching your back, angling the tip of his cock to pummel into you even more, fingernails digging deep into his chest for some sort of leverage. You lift your hips up and slam into him repeatedly until the sound of smacking flesh overpowers your filthy noises.

“E-Easy tanhì.” His gruff voice breaks from your erratic movements. “Slow down. You are going to hurt yourself.” He grunts as he grabs your hips to slow you down, feeling his own climax quickly approaching.

“Quiet.” You shush him, weakly smacking away one of his hands to prevent him from ruining this for you. “Fuck. This feels too good. So fucking good. I-I feel like I’m –” You cut yourself off with a quick gasp for air.

Ralak looks up at you with lust in his eyes, pride bubbling in his chest from how you’re working for your climax all on your own. And from the way you’re clamping down around him, he can sense that you’re close. Maybe he could just give into you. Just this once.

“There you go. Just like that.” He encourages you, sliding his thumb between your folds to play with your sticky clit.

“Ugh! Lak.” You moan his name as you release the breath you’ve been holding. Eyes slamming shut, you shift your focus on the unfurling coil in your core. It feels like your nerves are shot, body teeming with pleasure.

Ralak stays still, allowing his little tanhì to do all the work. He can’t peel his eyes away from such a sight. The sight of his mate using him for her own pleasure. It almost sends him over the edge, urge to fuck up into you becoming an itch he must scratch.

“Y-You like how I feel around you. Don’t you?” You breathe, corner of your lips pulling up into a smug little smirk. The question snaps his gaze up to yours, blue eyes locking onto your flushed face. How was it possible? For your face to be more arousing to him than the sight of him inside you. For you, it’s the way he’s staring at you, as if you were the topping on the finest matkayinan dessert.

“Yeah? Haah, ah – say it. Tell your numeyu.” You pant shakily.

Ralak’s jaw twitches, chest rising and falling from how hard he’s breathing. He looks like he’s biting on his tongue – literally and figuratively. To hold back even just an ounce of self-control. So not to admit how good it feels when you squeeze him with your innocence.

It’s so pure. Untouched. Unfucked.

“I love it.” He growls through a clenched jaw.

“Oh, fuck.” You let loose a sudden scream, your hand flying to cover your agape mouth. Then there’s –

Silence. You hold your breath, feeling your eyes burn as they gloss over. All you can hear is the sound of your slick smearing all over his pelvic bone as you grind into him, and his intense breathing. Until you feel like you’re about to burst. Your hand falls from your mouth, leaving it wide open.

“Ralak.” You moan his name, although it sounds more like a desperate cry for help.

Rather than answering, he picks up the speed of his thumb, swiping over your swollen clit at a merciless pace.

“Ralak.” Another little cry falls from your flushed lips to let him know you’re close even though he can feel everything through tsaheylu. “Ra –” You cut yourself off with a quick snap of your hips, jamming his head right against your swollen g-spot. “–lak!”

“Ralak!” You cry out for the last time, frenzied movements turning into quick, rough grinding. You gush all over your mate, force of your orgasm so strong that you push him out of you, painting his stomach in your pussy juices as if he were a blank canvas. Your legs shake uncontrollably, all strength of your body washing away to leave you weak and wobbly. Pushing down onto his chest, you do your best to hold your shuddering body up.

“Fuck. Good girl. Good girl.” He curses a well-deserved praise, accent extra thick over such a novel word to him.

“I-I just made mys-self cum, Lak.” You groan breathlessly, feeling the walls of your cunt pulsate around him as confirmation.

“I can see that tanhì” He chuckles breathily, chin meeting his chest to look at the little puddle of cum you’ve made on him. You look down to see what he’s talking about, blurred vision making it so that you can only see the intense glisten of his skin. You slide one hand down from his chest onto his stomach, feeling a warm, watery liquid glazed over his cyan skin.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorr – ”

“Shh. Again. Do that for your karyu again.” He hums, rolling his hips to grind his cock between your slippery pussy lips.

“Oh – Lak, I – I really don’t know if I can.” You say with trembling lungs, feeling so spent that you’re light in the head.

Ralak clicks his tongue, swiftly moving his hands under your thighs to lift you up. “You can. Hips up.” With one quick movement, he positions the tip of his cock at your tight opening and lets go of your thighs. Due to the heaviness of your body, you slam down onto lap, taking every inch of his cock all at once.

“Oh, great mother!” You cry out her name as a curse, crown of his cock threatening to pierce through your cervix. It hurt so good that you can’t help but grind further into it his relentless pushes. Fuck, maybe you do like pain. White hot pleasure surges through you, but morphs into something totally different when you feel his fingers wrap around and sink into your hips.

He repositions himself, heels of his feet sinking so deep into the cot that there will be dents for weeks. You bob and sway as he wiggles into place, all-consuming eyes boring into yours of delirium. They had a glint of... intent.

Intent to make you cum again.

And again. And – honestly, as many orgasms as he could squeeze out of your little body. And before you can even process all of what’s going on, Ralak begins pounding into you. Wet, squelching noises and sounds of skin smacking against skin become louder than the filthy moans he’s expertly working out of you.

“This is what you want, yes?” He grunts, pulling out just to slam himself back into you a little deeper. “All of me?”

“Lak!” You barely get out, a hand against his tattoo to push him back. “W-Wait, it’s too much –”

“Answer me.” He growls, angling his pelvis to fuck right into your most sensitive spot.

“Oh – fuck! Y-Yes!” You let loose a sudden, hoarse cry of defeat, taking his hammering with no where to run.

He can’t stop the buck of his hips. It’s just the way your heat sucks his in his twitching cock, milking his sticky precum into your empty womb. And that belly bulge – that damn bulge makes it twice as hard to fight to urge to fill you up until it’s even more swollen. He watches as it moves, ramming so hard into you it protrudes a little more with each thrust.

“Then cum for me.” He demands of you, eyes locked on the way your breasts bounce under your crimson top from the sheer force of his thrusts.

“Please! Please –” You beg, unsure what even for. You could already feel yet another orgasm approaching, and it’s not yours. It’s like a heat is transferring through his queue to yours, and down your spine in shocks. You try to close your legs in anticipation of it pooling in your core, setting off your own orgasm.

“Tell me what you need.” He growls, thrusts becoming shorter and deeper, bulge at the base of his cock growing by the second.

He’s on the brink of cumming, and you could feel it.

“I-Inside.” You blubber, head dipping back from the overstimulation as he gets himself off with your tight cunt. He tsks, thrusting up into you hard. “Ugh! I need your cum inside me!”

“Shit.” He growls deeply, manhandling your hips to keep your squirming body down on his cock. You feel it throb inside you, filling up your empty womb right before your pussy walls flutter around him. Your brain short circuits, body convulsing violently before slumping down into his. He holds you tight, giving your sopping cunt a few more deep thrusts, knot prodding at your entrance.

“W-What’s t-that?” You blubber breathlessly into his ear, feeling your eyelids grow heavier.

“Knot.” He barely grunts an answer, thick, sticky seed dripping down the growing, throbbing bulge as it has no where else to go. His fingers dig into your skin, deeper and deeper as he squeezes his eyes shut – resisting the urge to sink his knot inside you too. That would hurt. Too much.

He hums out his orgasm, rocking into you a few times to ensure you’re as full as can be. Well, you feel that way. You’re so full of not only his cock but also his huge load, you can practically feel it slushing around inside you. You groan when the sensation makes you a little queasy.

Ralak feels your discomfort, tenderly pulling out of you. That alone took a while, each inch coming out of you slowly and gently. “You okay?” He huffs, just as his cockhead pops out of you, allowing his warm cum to seep out of you and down your thighs. You nod into the crook of his neck, closing your eyes and letting your body rest on top of him.

“You took me so well.” He coos at you, supporting the back of your head with one hand and the swell of your ass with the other. “You know that?”

“Mhm. L-ak.” His name comes out broken as he shuffles to his feet with you in his firm hold. “I see you, ma’ ‘lak.” You mumble, letting your eyes flutter shut.

“I see you, my little tanhì.” He utters the words in a hoarse voice, making his way to the cave to take care of you.

----

Now that you’re all healed and settled in to your new forever home, Ralak urges you to pay your family a visit. It took quite a bit of convincing, and honestly a little bit of bribing, but it worked and here you are – standing in your own family marui. Kiri, Tuk, and Neytiri were out with Ronal and Tsireya, leaving the boys behind.

Just your luck.

“C’mon, let’s see it.” Jake crosses his arms and takes a step back.

“Yeah, y/n. It’s been over a week since we’ve seen you. I haven’t even seen your tattoo yet.” Lo’ak chimes in, leaning against the stilt of his family marui. Neteyam stands tall, keeping to himself as he listens intently to the conversation.

“Guys.” You chuckle nervously, fidgeting with the cork on your songchord.

“Why so nervous, baby girl? Somewhere where we can’t see or somethin’?” Jake jesters, uncrossing his arms to walk behind you, inspecting your back.

“Uh – uhm.” You stumble with your words, looking at Neteyam for some sort of rescue. Rather, he cocks a brow in agreeance with his family. He wants to know too. You look at Lo’ak, who’s now making his way towards you too. It feels like they’re all closing in on you, teaming up on you to give you no other choice.

“Fine. If you guys want to see it that bad.” You shrug, hooking your thumbs under the band of your tewng and tug it down until the six lines begin to show.

The men’s eyes snap down and widen once they all realise what you’re doing. They begin retreating to the back of the marui, hands splayed in front of their faces to shield them from the unfolding sight.

“Alright. Alright!” Jake shouts, waving his hands for you to stop.

“Yep. Nevermind. Message received.” Lo’ak mutters, making his way through the back door of the marui. Before you can even look Neteyam’s way, he’s right behind his baby brother, shaking his head and escaping this whole ordeal.

----------

THE END :)

I hope you guys enjoyed this (slow burn) Ralak series. I just want to give a special thank you to @zestys-stuff for allowing me to bring this man to life in a fic. This collaboration has been unreal and so much fun and honestly, I look forward to doing more collabs with you in the future (cus I know you got more delicious OC’s hidden up your sleeve). You’re so fucking talented and I literally cannot get over it.

Now, now. Ralak is not gone forever. I’ll be doing special episodes of him (and reader) going forward, and you can expect the first special episode very soon – “Ralak’s First Rut”. It’s a bit of a mind fuck (literally) so bear with me! Anyways.

‘nuff love,

Issy <3

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themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 10 months ago

Text

Datura Pt 3

Summary: Trapped Under the Mountain you have to decide if it's worth keeping your enemies close.

Content Warnings: Under the Mountain is like a walking trigger warning, but mentions of torture, unnamed character death via the torture; Rhys is an ass but he's a protective ass so we'll allow it.

Author's Note: This part is loooong, needed to set up Part 4 and it made sense in my head to have these bits in one piece before we get to the *cough cough* personal training. Hope you guys enjoy! :)

(Part 1, Part 2)

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There’s no way out.

You bash the only heavy item you can find--a paperweight, tucked into the back of a dust filled drawer--against the air duct, over and over, large chunks of stone flying in every direction, even as the reality of the situation sets in. There are no back doors, no windows, just this slim chance that maybe, maybe you can bash your way out of the rock on sheer force of will.

The paperweights thuds against the stone make your ears ache. Every blow has your shoulder feeling like it might wrench from it’s socket any second, the pain a sharp thrum with every blow, but you can’t stop, if you stop you will think about it and if you start thinking about it, you won’t make it.

The blows land over and over, sometimes you switch arms to try and give yourself a break. You haven’t slept, exhaustion making this tedious, even more so when this escape attempt requires you to balance atop a bedside table that’s seen better days. Chunks of rock fly away from the wall, dust a heavy coat over your skin, your tongue. It’s like swallowing sand.

“Come on!” You beg the wall. The paperweight shutters, bits of metal cracking, denting. You’ve broken your fingernails, torn apart your knuckles trying to get the hunk of engraved metal to push through the rock. This is your only shot, the door’s bolted from the outside, a guard posted beyond. Rhysand, that bastard, had tossed you into this empty, dust ridden room hours ago. You aren’t entirely sure where you are, the journey over here a blur, glimpsed only in flashes as you’d hung over the male’s shoulder, but that’s irrelevant. The only thing that matters now is getting out, getting free. The air duct is more of a slit, carved into the rock wall that makes up your room, barely enough room for to slide your arm into, but you have to hope it gets wider somewhere. You can’t allow yourself to think about what happens if you can’t climb your way out of the room.

The paperweight lands again and again and again, the rhythm steady, the beat not unlike the drums that had gotten you into this mess in the first place. If you lived through this, you’d never go to another Calanmai celebration again. You take all that anger you feel, the helplessness and confusion of the last twenty four hours and channel it into your arm. The wall shudders, but your elusive powers do not flare behind a few wisps of darkness over your bloody knuckles.

“Break!” You snarl like it can hear you, bend to your desperation.

A few more blows and the only thing that breaks is the paperweight, the hunk of metal cracking into three, small pieces. You stare at it as it slips from your hand, scatters across the rock floor.

You know it can’t see you, but you flash your middle fingers at it. “Useless fucking thing,” you hiss as you climb off the bedside table. The room is larger than you anticipated, a bed in the center, the table next to it with a little lamp; there’s a small bathing room with a copper tub, sink and toilet. It’s not really a cell, it’s technically bigger than your room in the farmhouse, but the locked door reminds you it’s not better by any means. The whole place is dark, carved out of rock in the heart of a mountain, as far as you could tell when they brought you in. It might have made more sense if you were upright, but there’s no use dwelling on that now. Dust covers everything, the sheets, the walls, the floor, disturbed by your footprints, and also the bed that you managed to wiggle behind and push in front of the door. The wood was heavy, it had taken all your strength to push it away from the back wall and across the room. It might not do much, but it will be enough to give anyone pause, at least you hope. It’s better than sitting around waiting for them to come back, at the very least.

You go back to the bathroom, pausing briefly to wash the blood from your hands, then slowly study the place, looking for something you missed the first time around. One door, not even a door to the bathing room to lock yourself in if necessary. No more vents. No windows. No cupboards. Very little places to hide unless you feel like hiding under the bed. You go over the space inch by inch, looking for anything else to use to help dig yourself out, but there’s nothing. Not unless a cheap bar or soap of the moth bitten sheets can be used somehow. The base of the lamp looks heavy, but then you’d be working in the dark and that’s not an option.

You’re about to break down and cry when the door opens. Unhindered, because it doesn’t swing in, it swings out, your idea to block the door absolutely useless. From the darkness of the hallway, Rhys stares at you, then the bed, the wooden frame barely up to his chest.

You flash your middle fingers at him too, teeth pulled back in a snarl. If he tries to come in here you really will rip out his throat. He’d deserve it. Bastard. How could he do this to you?

With a smirk, and the flick of Rhys’s wrist, the bed re-centers itself against the far wall. Not even an inconvenience, he’d moved it like it was no effort at all.

Shit.

“Was that supposed to be a barricade?” The door swings shut behind him, the lock clicking ominously into place in the cavernous space. He’s found a new shirt, the one he’d given you earlier stuffed in the corner where you can’t smell the scent of him any longer.

He seats himself on the edge of your bed, making himself comfortable, eyes darting briefly to the new hole in the wall. “Dare I ask?”

You cross your arms over your chest, still barring your teeth. Perhaps Calanmai had turned you into more animal than girl. “It was like that when I got here.”

“Of course,” he says with a shrug, like he knows it’s useless, that you’ll simply tire yourself out, become easier prey.

“What do you want?” You hiss. He doesn’t seem to notice the venom in your tone, the way you make sure there’s distance between the two of you.

“Can’t I be here to make sure you’re comfortable?” He counters.

“What an excellent host you make,” you snarl. “Will you bathe and tuck me in next?”

His violet gaze rakes slowly over you, assessing the bare expanse of your legs, the tattered, mud stained hem of your shift, barely covering you, the barely there straps clinging for dear life to your dirt stained shoulders. It’s intense, you know many fae would melt under it; you might have too, if things had been different, if the sight of him didn’t make you want to hurl something at his head.

“Darling, I’d lick you clean if you asked,” he says lowly.

“Does that shit usually work for you?” You snap back. He’s infuriating. How could you have kissed him?

He grins as he pushes away from the bed, eyes locked on your lips like he’s thinking about that kiss too. “I don’t usually have to resort to it, my good looks and natural charm do most of the work for me.”

“You have the charm of a viper.”

He huffs a laugh, “Cruel, wicked thing.”

His advances have you backing up, until you stumble right into the wall. The rock bites into your shoulder blades as he halts inches from you, close enough that you can feel his warm breath on your face; smell that citrus and jasmine scent of him. You should push him away, give yourself breathing room, but when he’s this close rational thought eddies from your head.

“What do you want?” You repeat, voice shakier than you intend, trying to remind yourself that you’re angry at him, that you don’t want him anywhere near you. It’s his fault you’re in here.

“Her highness wants you trained,” he says like that’s supposed to mean something to you.

All you can do is stare at him.

“She sent word to your father,” he amends. “He’ll be here in three months time.”

You’re suddenly aware of how loud your own heartbeat is.

“Is that supposed to mean something to me? He never bothered to contact me before.” You’re loosing your edge, mind spinning with all the things you could do to try and put some distance between the two of you.

“It seems your Uncle stole you away in the middle of the night,” Rhys explains. “Hybern has been looking for you since.”

“He’s done a shitty job.”

Rhys shrugs as he reaches out a hand to play with a tendril of your hair, curling it around his slender fingers. A cat playing with it’s food; he has no intention of letting you move away from the wall, trapped between the rock and his chest. “He’s eager to see you again, and Her Highness is eager to prove that you’re useful.”

“Why?” Why does Hybern suddenly care about you? Why does the red head care what you do with your powers? Why is this male touching you still and why are you letting him?

“Hybern’s an opportunist,” he says as he brushes the strand behind your ear. “His plans for Prythian might be closer to reality with the right power behind it.”

None of it makes any sense to you.

Rhys must see that on your face because he says, “Hybern made Amarantha. That might not make sense to you yet, but she is what she is because of him. She knows the best way to solidify her position within the world Hybern intends to create is to hand him a weapon already sharp enough to use.”

“So I’m to be a pawn then?”

He shrugs, the hand still against your temple drifting to brush over your cheek, like he can’t help but touch you. “Or you could also be an opportunist.”

You quirk a brow.

“Hybern might just be your only way out of here, Darling.”

“First off, don’t call me that. Second, what if I don’t?”

“You will.”

You shiver.

“Training isn’t the choice here. The choice is whether you want to see anyone get hurt to make sure it happens.”

“What are you gonna do, torture me?” You hiss.

He brushes a thumb over your lip, violet eyes trained there like he’s thinking about how they felt against his own earlier. “You have people you care about.”

Your heart drops into your stomach.

“She’s already given me the order to find your uncle.” His fingers drift lower, until he’s holding your chin between his forefinger and chin. “Where is he?”

“I’ve been with you,” you growl; his words snap you back to reality. He’s the enemy. You do not want to be this close to the enemy. “How would I know?”

“My spies tell me he packed a bag and left after finding you gone? Did you have a meeting place for emergencies?”

“Eat shit,” you snarl.

Something brushes against you, like a shadow, but it’s not against your skin, it’s against your mind. The sensation cold, foreign. You blink, pull your head out of his grip to shake your head, shake the feeling off, but it lingers, holding on.

“You don’t even have any fucking shields,” he snarls.

The brush against your mind makes you see things, the farmhouse, your own hands kneading bread, it takes longer than it should for you to realize you’re seeing your own memories play out before you.

“What-” a tavern spins into view, the worn sign clear enough in your eyes that you say the name out loud. It’s a little place, not too far from Spring’s borders, close enough to Autumn that you can get there by foot in half a day. Your uncle had shown you the place as a kid, said that if you’d ever gotten separated from him than you were to go there and wait. If he’d returned home and found the house empty, the first place he’d go was there.

The memory fizzles; the shadow recedes.

Reality slams into you, tears falling from your eyes. What did you just do?

Like he can’t help himself, Rhys brushes a tear off your cheek with his knuckle. “We’ll work on shields first.”

He moves to leave, but you grab him by the front of the shirt. “Wait, please… please don’t do this! I’ll do whatever you want, ok? Just, just leave my uncle out of this.”

It is not cruelty on his face, or judgment, it’s a flash of pain before he straightens, face a mask of perfect indifference as he slides his hand over yours. “As I said, Darling, I would consider your options here carefully.” He pulls your hand away, the lock sliding out of the door on a phantom wind, and then he’s gone.

Only when the lock clicks into place again do you allow yourself to crumple to the floor and cry.

There’s a flower on the bedside table when you finally manage to get up off the floor. It’s the same glowing, violet bud that you had seen in your dreams, the one that had led you right into Rhys’s waiting arms. You pick it up gently, starring at the soft petals, so thin you can almost see through it. It’s beautiful and strange all at once.

Then you take it to the bathroom and flush it down the toilet.

No more stupid flowers, or those damn visions, no more chasing flowers through the woods and trusting stupidly handsome males to protect you. Fuck him and these stupid flowers! They’re to blame for all this mess. A mess you were now dragging your uncle into.

You might have started to spiral again if there wasn't another flower in the first’s place by the time you step back into the main room. As if the one you’d moved had never been there. You stare at it for a long while, then back at the bathroom, the water still running as the toilet flushes, just to make sure you hadn’t imagined removing the first one.

Groaning, you snatch the second one and toss it down the toilet with the first.

There’s a third as quickly and as soundlessly as the other two had arrived.

“You’ve got to be shitting me!” You snatch it off the bedside table and crush it into your hand, the scent of it overwhelming, too strong for any flower not sprouting from the ground to be.

You wipe the remains on the dirty sheets as you sit on the bed, watching the table now, daring a fourth to appear. No one has used the door, the vents aren’t an option, it’s got to be some sort of magic. Unless tables can sprout gardens in this strange mountain dungeon.

As if it knows it’s being watched, no fourth flower appears.

You cross your arms, waiting, challenging it. Minutes tick by. Nothing. Only then do you breath a sigh of relief.

But in the stillness of the room, the lack of entertainment soon becomes suffocating. You try to distract yourself by stripping the sheets off the bed and shaking the dust off of them. You’re obviously going to be sleeping here, might as well make yourself comfortable. But that doesn’t take long.

You push the bed back in front of the door again, it’s failure be damned. At least, if anyone tries to enter while you sleep you'll have a second to get up and move before they get inside.

The bedside table looks lonely without the bed next to it, with a shrug, you decide to move that as well. You’re half way across the room when one of the legs hits a pit in the floor and tips, the lamp bouncing off the floor with a clang that echoes like a death toll in the cavernous space. The movement knocks the slim drawer on the table wide open, a worn book tumbling out across the floor. It definitely hadn't been there earlier when you'd opened it and found the paperweight. The fading title reads Death Gods and Goddesses Through the Ages, in a scrolling font, the author’s name long since legible in the battered leather. There’s less dust on the pages than the rest of the room, like it hasn’t been here quite as long. After collecting the fallen lamp, blissfully not broken, as if is spelled to avoid such things from clumsy creatures like you, and pushing the table against it’s new home on the wall, you sit yourself atop the bed and prop the book open.

The pages are worn, stained, most of the margins filled with hand written notes. A couple of the pages are even book marked.

Long before the first ages of the world, when light was first introduced, the Gods walked the land, unburdened with the weight or mortality. They were before Time. Until the Darkness came and merged with them. Next to the opening paragraph, someone had added the annotation: These are not the same as the Princes from Hel that opened the Portals in the Dark Ages, these are other. Their powers are other.

You shiver and close the book. Who would keep this here?

You draw your fingers over the edges as you process, lip worried between your teeth. It feels like a bad omen, a warning… from the flowers? Your head hurts from all the questions. Are these supposed to be connected? The flowers had led you to the cave, were they leading you to this strange book now too?

You climb under the covers, cold, and then crack the book open again.

The Darkness took hold, hid Its children in the shadows of the world, rearing its beloved offspring in secret. We did not know to fear them until it was too late. Monsters, they are such terrible monsters. The next note in the margins was a page number that you flipped to, marked with an old slip of paper with swirling marks doodled across it. The High Lords of old consulted with witches and necromancers, priestesses and seers, biding their time, accumulating their knowledge until they were finally able to form a weapon against the Death Gods. At least, that was what they told them. There were those among them who didn’t want the gods removed, they wanted their power to wield, to rule. There’s lists of names, linked in genealogical order of ancient High Lords and bloodlines that had merged with the Death Gods and Goddesses of old. All carefully mapped out. Whoever had owned this book before had done their research, some of the trees branched over onto other pages, the names growing smaller and smaller the longer they went. You don’t have time to read through all of them before the lock on the door groans as it’s moved out of place.

You scramble to hide the book under the mattress before the door opens, though maybe it would have served you just as well as a weapon, because it’s not Rhysand at the door this time.

The soulless black eyes that leer down at you can only belong to the Attor.

It takes seconds for the hulking creature to kick the bed out of the way, the wooden legs screeching as they slash through the rock floor. You don’t even have time to scream, run, as the monster bursts into the room and grabs you by the back of your shift.

“The Queen demands an audience,” it sneers in a voice that sounds like shifting sand.

You flail as it lifts you off the floor like you weigh nothing, begging whatever gods can hear you for help. In a rare flare of power, your claws tear through your fingertips, dark, misty power budding in your palms. You claw at the leather hands holding you, slashing over and over again, splattering blood over the walls.

The Attor snarls, tosses you hard into the wall just outside your door. The impact is jarring, black spots swimming across your eyes, all the air leaving your lungs in a rush. You scramble to get onto your feet, legs unsteady, the room spinning. The cavern like tunnel ahead of you flips and doubles.

“Stupid girl!” It snarls as it reaches for the back of your shift again.

You scramble out of reach, legs wobbly, talons scraping across the walls. You make it all of three steps before the Attor grabs you again. If it’s arms aren’t it’s weak spot you need to hit it somewhere else, but it holds you up out of reach, lesson learned. You reach for the walls instead, punching your talons through the rocks, trying to wrench yourself out of it’s grip by finding something to hold on to.

The terrible shrieking sound your claws make against the rock makes the Attor give you a shake that has your brain rattling around in your skull. “Stop that you little pest!”

More spots swim across your vision, hands slipping off the walls. These last twenty-four hours have made you feel more powerless than you have ever felt in your life. What good are these supposed powers beneath your skin if they don’t even work?

The Attor, on lumbering legs, carries you through dark, twisting tunnels. It’s like walking through a maze, the dark stone walls only lit with torches in sparse intervals. There’s no decorations. Little light. And cold, so damn cold.

The Attors claws scrape against the ground as it walks; you recognize the scrapping sound from the cave in Spring. It had been out hunting you too.

“Where are you taking me?” You dare to ask.

It takes a couple more sharp turns, it’s breathing a heavy hiss behind you as it finally brings you to a set of double, stone doors. They’re taller than even the High Lord’s manor, something you imagined you’d see a cave troll bursting out of in one of your books at home. There is something ancient, sacred about the space as the doors swing open on their own. The chamber ahead of you is cavernous, held up by too many carved pillars to count, all depicting different battles across Prythian’s extensive history. It’s the art work you’ve seen replicated in temples and paintings across the Courts, all supposed to be symbolic, holy, but this…

The floors are made of red marble, like a blood stain; fitting because pinned to the walls are bodies, some human, some fae, some other, all disfigured and mutilated. The contents of your stomach rises into your throat.

The cavern is full of fae, some dancing to the low rumble of music coming from the corner, like no one notices the horrors around them.

At the far end of the space sits a dais, the red headed Queen seated atop it. A glittering dress the shade of her hair hugs her form, a single shard of bone dangling from a string around her neck the centerpiece of the plunging neckline. She sips from a golden chalice, a smudge of red lipstick along the glass, her eyes bored as she surveys the party happening around her. There’s a half dressed male sitting at her feet, head in her lap, her clawed nails drifting absently through his pale hair. A cloud of mirthroot smoke circles him, golden eyes glassy like he has no idea where he is. Rhysand leans against the back of the throne, the only one watching the Attor approach at all. Maybe it is normal to see the gangly creature drag people into the throne room, the party goers certainly don’t notice you.

Amarantha, Rhys had called her, only notices you when the Attor all but hurls you at the base of the dais, your body crumbling against the stairs.

“Her Highness,” the Attor sneers.

The Queen’s grin is cruel as she passes her cup to Rhys, who all but tosses it over his shoulder when she’s not looking. “Quiet!” She barks at the musicians, half hidden in an alcove between pillars. Her voice carries through the room like she had screamed it, the echo in the chamber making the floor shake.

All eyes are suddenly on you as you manage to get back on your feet.

“Rhysand tells me you’re willing to cooperate,” Amarantha says.

You’re very aware of the leering eyes of the crowd as they take you in, still wearing nothing but a shift. The crowd doesn’t get too close, but they’re near enough that you hear the whispers, the laughter. It’s an effort just to swallow. “Yes, I did,” you choke out, intentionally not looking at the male.

Amarantha frowns, “What was that, mouse? I can’t hear you.”

Your cheeks heat; your hands clenching into fists at your sides. “Yes, I will cooperate,” you bite out.

“Hybern will be glad to hear it,” she strokes a hand over the male’s temple, leaving faint pink scratches across his pale skin. He’s too high to notice. “It will be a great victory for the Court to have you back and ready to take your rightful place.”

Rightful place your ass. None of this feels real, right. Your rightful place is with your uncle, trying dozens of new jobs every time his trading business slows, learning new things to make the money stretch. The farmhouse was a new project, a new chance at settling down and not having to live on the road like you had for most of your life. That life was the only thing you had ever known. To be here now, hearing all this talk about war and conquest, with this queen and her court, it was like you’d stepped into a strange dream you couldn’t escape. You’d been trying not to think about it, but faced with it now you didn’t know what to do, say. She was starring at you like she was waiting for you to thank her for ripping the ground out from under you.

Amarantha frowns when you don’t say anything, her hand across the male’s forehead stilling, the eye in the ring on her finger swiveling to look right at you as if it’s a living thing.

“Rhysand,” she snaps, “you had a gift for our guest, didn’t you?”

Rhys looks up from his very important business picking lint off his shoulder. “Right, of course, the gift.”

The crowd quiets as he descends from the dais and snaps his fingers. At your feet a male appears, bound and gagged with the dark tendrils of Rhys’ magic. The male looks at you pleadingly and though your heart goes out to his plight, you glance up at the other male in confusion. Are you supposed to know who this is?

“Your uncle’s farm hand,” he says with a grand sweep of his hand, all courtly business.

“Since you couldn’t find the kidnapper,” Amarantha hisses.

Rhys slides his hands in his pockets casually, the picture of bored indifference. But his violet eyes are only on you as he says, “This was the only male waiting for her at the Temple she told me about.”

Temple? Your head spins. You hadn’t shown him a temple.

Amarantha pushes the male in her lap away from her as she climbs down the stairs in heels sharp enough to cut. “A little demonstration is in order, don’t you think?”

Rhys steps a little closer to the bound male, but you can’t help but note that he has now positioned himself between you and where Amarantha is poised at the base of the dais.

The male makes a gasping sound before his eyes glaze over, sweat quickly dotting his forehead. Rhys remains with his hands in his pockets, Amarantha giddy at the sight unfurling before her, and even though neither of them move, it’s clear the male is fighting the invisible grip they have on him. You can’t help but think about what the two of them have already done to you.

“Wait,” you protest. Even if you don’t know this male, you don’t want him to suffer. “I already said I would cooperate, this isn’t necessary!”

The male begins to scream, thrash, and the bands of darkness around his wrists and legs dip into the marble floor, pinning him.

The crowd presses in closer to watch; you hear someone start making bets about how long he’ll last.

“This is a little reminder,” Amarantha coos at you, soft enough that the crowd won’t be able to hear it over the screaming. “Of what will happen if you decide you suddenly don’t want to cooperate with my training regime.”

Blood starts to pool in the corner of the male’s eyes.

You can’t stop yourself from stepping forward and grabbing Rhys’s arm. “Please, stop, I get it ok! Let him go. I will do what you ask.”

But louder than your pleading, Amarantha orders, “If he has nothing to give us, kill him.”

The gag slips from the male’s mouth as he turns to look at you with what looks like his last little bit of strength. “Forgive me, Your Highness.”

The sound of bones snapping fills the chamber; the male gurgles on his own blood, and then he slumps lifelessly to the floor.

Tears stream down your cheeks and you yank your hand away from Rhys’s arm, disgusted.

Amarantha waves the Attor over to clean up the mess, even as she says, “You may resume your dancing now.”

As if it never happened, the music starts back up. People start laughing and drinking, the dances not unlike the writhing shapes you had seen in your vision of Calanmai.

She waits until the noise is too loud to be overheard by the crowd to ask, “Did he tell you where her uncle is?”

There’s no chance this stranger knows anything about your uncle. Rhys had lied, but you still find yourself holding your breath, waiting for this to be a trap too. The male certainly acted like he’d known you.

But Rhys says, “I saw a tavern in Winter, I’ll head there-”

“My men will take it from here,” Amarantha interrupts, “I want you here, working on her.”

Rhys bows. “As you wish, My Queen.”

“Escort her back to her room,” Amarantha orders, “I don’t want her back here until we’re sure she can be controlled.”

“Of course,” Rhys moves to take your arm and you duck out of reach.

“I can walk,” you hiss.

He lets his hand fall, slides it back into his pockets.

Amarantha is half way up the dais when she calls back, “I expect quick results.”

He nods in understanding.

“And don’t forget, Rhysand, about the deal you made for this opportunity.”

His eyes darken. “I haven’t.”

As far away from him as you want to be, it’s a relief when he motions for you to move towards the door. The crowd parts for you, some of them outright ignoring you, others leering.

A redheaded male watches the two of you closely, catching Rhys’s eye as you pass.

Rhys snarls something you can’t make out at him.

“Whore,” the other male spits back.

Rhys laughs mirthlessly in response as the doors shut in the other male’s face.

You have questions of course, but the exhaustion of the last twenty-four hours weighs so heavily on you, you almost wish it was the Attor carrying you out. Every footstep is heavy.

Rhys doesn’t speak as he leads you through the maze of tunnels. You should be attempting to learn the path, so if you ever do get out you know where you’re going, but it feels like so much effort. What does it matter in the end? You’re stuck here, at the whim of an evil queen and whatever the hell Rhys is, at least until your supposed father gets here and decides to do Mother knows what with you. Any attempts at escaping, at fighting are useless, not when Rhys knows where to look for him. It’s the reminder that he lied that finally makes you look up from where you’ve been following the cracks in the floor.

“Why’d you do it?” You ask softly.

“Do what?” He counters. He sounds as exhausted as you feel.

You watch the way the shadows of the torchlight bath him in half darkness, the glow of his eyes dimmed here. Everything about him feels dim in these halls, like the mountain has stolen something from him.

“That male-”

He halts at a door that must now belong to you and a bit of magic pulls the door open. “She wants you to know what she will do if she even suspects you’re trying to outsmart her.”

“No,” you shudder thinking about what he had done. How could anybody wield powers like that? “No that’s not what I mean.”

Rhys leans against the doorframe and motions you inside. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me then, Darling.”

You stare at him. He seems to be playing a game unto himself. Whatever his motives are, whatever it has to do with you, he’d not about to admit it here in the hall.

You step into the room, head pounding from all the unanswered questions you have.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he says as the door begins to close.

You don’t want to see him in the morning. He’s a monster who can rip people’s minds apart with a thought, a monster who somehow lured you out of your home and brought you here to his evil queen, but he’s also the monster keeping your secrets, and in places like this, you might need a monster like that on your side. You won’t trust him, not after what he’d done in the cave, but maybe it’s not trust you need in a place like this. Amarantha demands you learn to use your powers, she never said anything about you using them on her.

“I’m counting down the seconds,” you say dryly.

“Dream of me,” he says sweetly.

The door closes before you can snarl that you’ve dreamed of him enough.

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Tag List: @mariahoedt, @llovelydove, @twsssmlmaa

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#rhysand x reader #rhysand x reader smut #rhysand acotar #acotar fic #acotar smut #fanfic #my writing #datura series #rhysand fanfic #utm!rhys #utm!rhys x reader

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neyswxrld · 3 months ago

Text

stormy weather

Echo, no pairing

summary: Echo has a low and is in a lot of pain after his physical therapy. Wrecker is there to help. Set after TCW S7 E1-4.

warnings: derpessed feelings, hopelessness, phantom pain

words: ~1400

a/n: hello everyone! here's another fic for @summer-of-bad-batch! this time i could even bring in three different prompts: "you're a bad liar.", battle scars and the bonus prompt light in the darkness. it's been a long time since i wrote something for echo, i hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST

Physical therapy was horrible.

He hated it with all his guts.

His legs hurt, they burned, and he felt like they were going to fall off. But the worst thing was: he couldn't make it feel better.

Hell, he didn't have those legs anymore and still they made his life so much more painful.

Pump, the physical therapist, tried to help him a lot and even though his tips and advice sometimes did wonders, he still hurt.

Then there was his stomach - he had problems adjusting to the amount of food he needed. When he was on Skako Minor, he was mostly fed with fluids. Now he needed to chew his food again, taste the grossness of it, and just swallow down the weird consistency.

Also - his muscles hurt. Pump always said he needed to build them up, so he can be fast and strong again. And he knew he had to. He really wanted to. But on some days, he just felt like he couldn't.

Today was a day like that.

Pump made him do some exercises with an odd looking thing. He never did those exercises before. Not even in ARC training. And even though he tried so hard, at some point he just couldn't do it anymore.

He felt like a failure. Like he wasn't good enough. How would he ever be able to keep up with everyone? Especially with the Batch? He could learn all their crazy plans, but how could he contribute anything, when he just wasn't strong, fast and persistent enough?

Pump had tried to cheer up him up, but Echo almost fled out of the training room.

He needed to get away. At the same time, he already felt the embarrassment creep up his neck. He felt like a shiny, on his first day on a Venator-class Star Destroyer, where everything was just overwhelming even though they already learned how it would be like on the inside. In theory, at least.

He was stumbling along the walls, trying to find his way to the Batch's barracks.

He just wanted to be alone and sulk in his hammock, until he felt better about his sorry self. He was so disappointed in himself and his lack of ability.

When he reached their barracks, he slipped inside. Relieved, he realized that he was alone. The others seemed to have training, or were up to something else.

He sighed once, before making his way over to his sleeping place, not bothering to turn the lights on.

From outside, he could hear thunder. The rain rattled against the large windows, and not for the first time he could laugh about the irony of Kamino. He felt like the weather was mirroring his conflicted and sad feelings. The storm outside was just as unpredictable and unhinged as the one inside him.

He curled up into a small ball, trying to disappear in himself.

When his hands... His hand touched his metal knees, and his scomp made a small 'clink' noise, he sighed a second time.

Never did he expect to turn out... like this, when he finally passed his final test, such a long time ago. With Fives, Hevy, Cutup and Droidbait.

He knew it was practically hopeless, but he still always imagined how all of them made it out of the war alive. Together. He liked to daydream about what would happen after all of it. After all the pain, and fear, and grief. He was sure Droidbaid would start a bakery one day. Cutup and Hevy would open a gym, just to train like maniacs themselves. And Fives probably would have traveled a lot. He always wanted to try and see new things. Just about his own future, Echo wasn't sure. But he soon realized, it wouldn't matter anyway.

After Rishi, after Hevy's, Droidbait's and Cutup's death, he realized that all their dreams and hopes were indeed meaningless.

He always thought he would during the war.

He was so sure he would, when that shuttle exploded on Lola Sayu.

He never knew what life would have brought for him, but he never would have guessed to turn out as a cyborg.

He almost didn't hear how the door opened behind him. Just when Wrecker's face appeared in his sight, he realized that he had company.

"Hey, Echo. Back again already?" the brawler asked and grinned down at him.

Echo looked back with big eyes. "Yeah," he nodded.

"So soon, too? Thought it would take another half an hour at least. How was it?" Wrecker started to talk to him, patting the side of his hammock.

Echo blinked a few times.

"Yeah... I-... Pump decided we should take a break. It was... great," he murmured and looked around, just not to meet Wrecker's eyes.

Wrecker stared at him for a few seconds, not moving an inch.

"Are you feeling okay?" he then decided to ask.

"I? Y-Yeah. I'm fine," he tried to assure his new brother, and forced a light smile on his face. It didn't reach his eyes. He knew that.

Wrecker knew, too: "You’re a bad liar."

He sighed again. "I know," he whispered.

Wrecker carefully stepped over and took a seat next to Echo, making the hammock swing back and forwards a few times.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked and put a hand on Echo's metallic calf. He couldn't feel the warmth of Wrecker's fingers, couldn't really feel the pressure. It was almost as if they weren't there at all.

Echo looked at Wrecker. At his younger, bigger brother, who seemed so happy and joyful all the time. He was so strong and gentle at the same time. And when Echo looked into Wrecker's face, at the scar and his milky eye, he just knew he could talk to him. When someone could understand what he was going through, even just in a slight way, it was Wrecker.

"It's just hard... Adjusting and stuff," he almost whispered.

He saw how Wrecker's thumb was moving up and down, swallowed, and took another breath.

"Physical therapy feels like torture. I can't- I just can't really do anything like I could before. I'm weak, and exhausted so fast. And I know it takes time, but it just takes... so long," he started to play around with his scomp, "and everything hurts."

Wrecker nodded, with an understanding look in his eyes.

"I know it's hard. And it's never going to be like before again. But we can try. We can try to make it easier. To make it better. And to make everything feel okay again," Wrecker said. "Healing isn't easy. It's hard and it's exhausting. And it's not just a straight line up. It's like a road full of holes and bumps and stones. But you have to try to jump over them, Echo."

Echo looked up at him with teary eyes. Wrecker's expression was so honest and genuine, that he didn't doubt a word he said.

"I know it's hard, but you have to keep going. I know you can. And if you need help, we're always here for you," Wrecker ended.

Echo nodded. He knew, but everything just seemed so hopeless sometimes.

"What helped you the most?" the former ARC-Trooper wanted to know.

A small smile appeared on his brother's lips.

"My brothers. The Batch," he said, and his smile grew even bigger.

"Every time I felt like I was at the bottom and couldn't do it anymore, they were there. And they pulled me up again. I couldn't have done it without them," he confessed, and Echo's heart warmed a bit by that.

He smiled at Wrecker, and he realized that everything just felt a little lighter.

The storm in him seemed to calm down a little. The clouds made space for a small ray of sunlight.

He still had aches everywhere, and he still was way too exhausted. But at least he felt a little spark of hope in him, like a light in the darkness. Warm and cozy, and ready to get even brighter.

Wrecker's words felt good, and he knew he could seek out the others whenever he needed them. Even Crosshair.

He knew everything would be going to be okay again. He knew he could do it. He knew he would be up and kicking again, even if it would take some time.

Sometimes he just needed a little heads up.

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST

@isthereanechoinhere96 @trixie2023 @freesia-writes

#summerofbadbatch2024 #light in the darkness #alternate bonus prompt #week6 #battle scars #week5 #you're a bad liar #the bad batch #star wars #tbb #tbb echo #echo fic #clone trooper echo #bad batch echo #the bad batch echo #echo bad batch #echo tbb #tbb wrecker #wrecker tbb

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shmothman · 1 year ago

Text

Public Displays

Vash the Stampede x Reader Words: 1520 Rating: G Summary: when evading bounty hunters, sometimes it's best to get creative. A/N: remember that scene in... which marvel movie was it, winter soldier? where natasha tells steve to kiss her because "pda makes people uncomfortable" and the guys chasing them won't look too closely? yeah. that. (as usual, i primarily had 98 vash in mind while writing.) Read on AO3

“I heard that Vash the Stampede was headed toward town.”

Your eyes meet his across the table; yours nervous, his resigned. You’ve been lucky lately, passing through several towns with little incident, so you suppose you’re due for some… excitement. Still, maybe that group of rugged-looking men across the bar doesn’t have any frame of reference for what he looks like.

“Heard he wears a red coat,” one says.

“And he’s got spiked-up hair,” another chimes in.

…Yeah, it’s time to take your leave.

You place a few double dollars on the table and nod in a way you hope is surreptitious, and thankfully, Vash takes your cue. You’ll leave first, and he’ll follow.

You grab your bag and slink toward the entrance, watching the group of men in your peripheral vision. They look like rough characters, and they clearly just rolled into town, still covered in desert sand and sweat and grime, guns strapped to their hips. You grimace as you make your way outside into the cool night, crossing your fingers as you wait near the door for Vash.

You breathe for a moment, then two.

“Hey!” you hear from inside the bar, and your heart skips a beat. “Hey! That’s Vash the Stampede!”

Time to go.

You get a head start, knowing Vash will be right behind you, and, true to form, he’s beside you in an instant, a sigh on his lips as he steers you down a dark alleyway, caging you against the wall like a shield as he peeks around the corner behind you. Your pursuers haven’t figured out which way you went, but it’s only a matter of time.

“Anyone there?” you ask, made slightly breathless by both exertion and proximity; the instinctive way Vash protects you with everything he has, his chest nearly pressed to yours.

“Not yet,” he says, blue eyes glinting in the darkness. “Come on, let’s go—”

“Wait,” you interrupt, taking hold of his wrist.

He looks at you with furrowed brows; questioning.

“The coat. That’s what they know you by. Did they get a good look at you in the bar?”

“Good enough,” he says.

“We have a better chance if you lose it. And the glasses. Just put them in my bag. I’ll mess up your hair and we’ll walk off like nothing happened.”

He frowns, clearly unconvinced.

“Oh, c’mon,” you say. “It’s better than nothing.”

That, he concedes to. “Alright,” he says, undoing the buttons of his coat. You know that his underclothes make him stick out—that strange, skintight material with so many straps and cut-outs, a large scar visible on his exposed shoulder—but it’s dark anyway, and no one would connect it with Vash the Stampede. He folds his coat and offers it to you, and you stuff it into your bag, then take his glasses, too.

“C’mere,” you say, and pretend to feel nothing as he leans down to let you muss his hair—your heart races as you try not to linger; try not to focus on the way it feels beneath your fingers, the way you wish so badly to be able to touch him like this.

Now isn’t the time.

“There.” He looks... different, like this; with his hair down and his coat missing. It feels vulnerable; intimate in a way that makes your cheeks warm. You swallow, looking away. “Let’s go. Act casual.”

He nods, looking out around the corner again, turning his head both ways before slipping out into the street and giving you a nod.

You’re going to have to get back to the hotel and grab your stuff; you’ll probably have to leave town to avoid a confrontation. You suppose you’ll be sleeping under the stars tonight.

Better than the alternative.

You set off down the road, and it isn’t long until you get to an area that’s slightly busier, one with people still walking around despite the chill and danger of the desert night. You draw closer to Vash’s side, taking a deep breath as you reach for his hand.

He stiffens slightly, and you notice the way his eyes dart over to you, though only in his peripherals.

“They didn’t see me with you,” you say quietly. “They expect Vash the Stampede to be alone.”

Vash nods, but... there seems to be a slight nervousness in the way he moves.

Maybe you’re just imagining things.

A clamor ahead of you draws your attention, and both of you freeze as several rather familiar-looking men come marching down the street. Right toward you.

“We’re looking for the Humanoid Typhoon,” you hear one say to a man walking by, loud and slightly slurred. “You seen anybody suspicious ‘round here?”

You don’t hear the townsperson’s reply, but you do tuck yourself against the porch to a closing shop. This is bad. Even if they’re looking for a red coat, you don’t know if you’ll be able to escape their notice, not out in the open like this; maybe this was a terrible idea, things are probably going to devolve into a gunfight—

Unless...

Heart pounding, you turn to him. “Kiss me.”

Immediately, Vash’s face goes a bright vivid red, and you can feel yours warming to match. He makes an unintelligible questioning noise, something like, “buh?”

“They won’t look at us,” you whisper harshly. “PDA makes people uncomfortable.” You wouldn’t be doing this if you could think of any other way out—of course you’ve been dying for even an ounce of his affection, but not in such dire circumstances. Not if he doesn’t also want it as badly as you do.

And you want it badly.

But… Vash agrees easily, blue eyes so bright as he nods shakily, leans into you. “You sure?” he asks, hardly more than a whisper, and his warm breath tickles your lips in a way that sends a shiver up your spine. Oh god, he’s going to kiss you—

“Yes,” you say, and that’s all it takes for him to close the gap.

He only presses his lips to yours chastely, angling his nose and wrapping his arm around you to shield you from the view of your oncoming pursuers, but it’s enough to make sparks burst behind your eyelids, to send you reeling, dizzy and euphoric in the thrill of finally. The only thing you can think of is how warm he is.

Your heart pounds in your chest, hammering away in your ribcage, and distantly, you fear that he can feel it—that he’ll immediately know that this is something you’ve wanted. You don’t want to take advantage of a situation like this, don’t want to take advantage of him… but his breath comes quicker, his lips trembling, and for a moment, you think that maybe this is something he wants, too. You truly can’t help bringing your hand to his face, cradling his cheek in your palm the way you’ve dreamed of for so long now, can’t help rubbing your thumb over the cute little mole beneath his eye, can’t help parting your lips, ever so slightly.

And you feel something break in Vash—his restraint, perhaps—as he responds in kind, pulling you closer like he has no choice but to do so, opening up into the kiss with a tiny whimper that sends heat coursing through you like a tidal wave.

This… this can’t be pretend. Not anymore.

Tossing inhibition to the wind, you allow your tongue to brush his bottom lip, and Vash shudders—you can feel the way it rushes up his spine, settles at the base of his neck as he invites you in, pressing harder into you. He steals the breath from your lungs but you wouldn’t have it any other way, losing yourself in his embrace, in the noise it makes when he separates from you briefly, only to return eagerly for more—and then again, and again, and again until you’re dizzy and reeling.

You’re in heaven. He is heaven.

Suddenly, he stops, and so do you, stomach turning pleasantly until you realize what you’re doing, the butterflies quickly turning anxious.

“Um,” he says quietly, muffled against your lips. “I think they’re gone…” his voice is pitched high and reedy, a kind of desperation you’ve been dying to hear.

You separate, face flushing. “Oh,” is all you can think to say.

He laughs nervously, eyes not meeting yours. “We should—we should go get our stuff.”

He’s right. You need to skip town, pronto. But as you make your way back toward the inn, you can’t keep from dwelling on his kiss; the way he held you. You had thought your feelings to be unrequited, but... you can’t have misread that.

You’re going to have to talk to him about this. There’s no way you can pretend it didn’t happen—no way you can go back to the way things were—and despite the danger, the adrenaline singing through your veins, despite the nervousness you feel at his own anxiety, a smile finds its way to your lips as you steal out of town under the cover of darkness, your pursuers none the wiser.

Vash kissed you. And there’s no going back.

#heeheehoohoo #sef writes #vash the stampede x reader #trigun x reader #trigun #x reader #sorry for invoking marvel but yknow

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michelleleewise · 2 years ago

Text

Blue Dhalia

Pairing: Avenger Loki x jotun female reader

Warnings: crying, minor angst, mentions of memory loss, mentions of torture, first kiss, loss of virginity, soft smut (love making), smut (mildly graphic), p in v smut, fingering, mentions of injuries, malnourishment, dehydration.

Summary: you begin your new life, with your new family

A/n- Aaahhhh!!! We're at the end!!! I can't thank you all enough for all the love and support you guys gave me!!! I've loved every comment, reblog, everything!! You guys are amazing!!! And thank you again!!! Graphics by @harlequin-hangout. And now....the conclusion.....

Part Eight -- Part Nine (finale)-

You drift in and out, hovering between asleep and awake. Your eyelids heavy as you try to open them, the brightness overwhelms you as the pain in your head returns. You close them again, drifting off feeling a hand on yours, something brushing through your hair making your scalp tingle as the darkness swallows you again, opening your eyes sometime later seeing the room dark...quiet. you turn your head to the window seeing the sun had gone down.

You turned your head back, looking up at the white ceiling, it wasn't a dream, they came...loki came for you. You felt a tear stream across your face at the feeling, you were free. You tried to lift your hand, feeling a weight on it you looked down seeing a large hand covering yours. Your eyes traveled further seeing a head of dark curls resting on the bed next to you, his other arm propped under his head as he slept. You couldn't pull your eyes away, in the time you had known him he had kept this part of himself secret, hidden under pale skin and green eyes. He was beautiful that way, but this...this was different.

The deep blue of his skin accentuated his sharp sheek bones, the lines traveling his skin intrigued you as you reached your other hand up gently brushing his dark hair back. He looked so different but also the same. You had no words to describe him in this form, but you were drawn to him...enthralled by him as your eyes followed the lines down his neck until they went under his shirt. You secretly wished he would stay this way, his true self but in a way you understood. A small groan pulled you from your trance as you felt him shift, his eyes slowly opening revealing his deep red eyes, rubies shining bright against a blue sea.

"Y/n..your awake. How are you feeling?" He asked sitting up, but not letting go of your hand. "I..I'm ok, how long was I asleep?" You asked rubbing your eyes "about a week, give or take." He said stretching his back. "A week...and you..." you started looking down "no, I have not left. I wanted to make sure you were ok." He said sheepishly pulling his hand back, instantly missing the weight of it you looked up at him seeing the pale skin traveling across him...hiding him. You smiled looking down fidgeting with the blanket. "What is it?" He asked leaning forward "nothing...I just." You trailed off as the door opened "y/n! Your awake." Bruce said walking in "are you feeling ok?" He asked stepping next to the bed. "Yes, just...tired." you said looking up at him.

"That's to be expected, your body temperature was off the charts when we found you, I would have to say extreme heat exhaustion even for a human." He said looking at some papers "you were also severely dehydrated and malnourished, not to mention the injuries you sustained." He said setting the papers down as you nodded. "May I take a look at them, make sure your beginning to heal?" He asked as you nodded. "Loki, you can wait out there or..." you interrupted "c..can he stay...please?" You asked looking between them "if you wish it, I will stay." Loki said standing up.

He walked closer to the bed as Bruce pulled the blanket down, grabbing the bottom of your gown "I'm only going to look at your stomach ok? That's where the worst of it was." Bruce said. You nodded, looking up to the ceiling feeling the cold air hit your stomach, feeling his fingers gently poking you, Loki making a noise next to you making you look at him, seeing his eyebrows furrowed, his jaw clenching as he kept his eyes on Bruce. "Ok great, it seems your starting to heal just fine, we'll keep an eye on them just in case but I think your ok to go back to your room." He said stepping back. "Here, Nat brought you some clothes, let me just get all of this off and you can change." He said pulling the tubes and wires from you. "You get dressed y/n, I'll be right outside and then I'll take you upstairs." Loki said patting your hand as they both walked out.

You pulled the blankets back, slowly sliding your feet to the floor you put your weight on your legs as you knees tried to buckle. Bracing against the bed you took small steps to the end, grabbing the clothes Bruce left. Sliding the gown off you carefully stepped into the pants pulling them up, grabbing the shirt you looked at the collar, making sure the the tag was in the back you pulled it over your head before sitting down slipping the socks on. You didn't see your gloves, remembering you had them on when....a shiver shot down your spine as you wrapped your arms around your middle just don't touch anyone you said to yourself as you walked to the door, opening it seeing Loki and Bruce talking "ready y/n?" Loki asked holding his hand out "i...my gloves were taken." You said looking down when he stepped closer, towering over you bringing his hand closer. You looked up seeing him smile as you reached out placing your hand in his as he looped it around his arm "Thank you Bruce, for everything. My lady.." he said nodding his head towards the elevator making you smile as he guided you to your room...home...

You walked into the kitchen, setting the kettle on the stove you pulled a cup down dropping a tea bag in as you jumped onto the counter. It had been almost about threw months since you had been back and you felt a little better each day. Peter and Mantis had to leave, asking again if you wanted to join them. You politely told them no and hugged them as they promised to come visit when they could. Thor and Steve had made a point of checking on you nearly everyday to make sure you were ok and apologize even though you told them everytime they didn't need to but you understood.

Thor had introduced you to his favorite treat, pop tarts he called them. Loki hated them, but If you were honest they weren't that bad, your favorite being the s'more ones. Steve had offered to help you train, he even said you could use his shield which based on everyone's reaction wasn't a common occurrence. You told him you would let him know. The rest of the time was spent here, in your shared living area with Loki. He had cooked for you, helped you get around in the beginning, checked on you often. He even sat with you helping you with some of his more advanced books. Your face heated at the memories, him sat on the couch next to you, his knee brushing yours, his arm outstretched behind your head as he leaned over you explaining a certain part, but whenever you looked up at him, his face so close to yours he would look away, clearing his throat before scooting to the other end making you frown.

Everytime you saw him, smelled him, was in the same room as him you felt this twinge in your stomach. You knew you were attracted to him, cared for him a great deal, but you were unsure of what this new feeling was. When his face was next to yours and you looked at his soft lips you wanted to run your fingers along them...feel them with yours. You had joined everyone for movie nights and were intrigued when the man pressed his lips to the woman's. You wondered how it felt, wanted to experience it but the only one you wanted to do that with was Loki, but the wau he kept his distance, never seeming to want you pushed the thought away and tried to forget about it. "Morning y/n." You heard behind you, turning seeing Loki walk in, his chest bare while his pants hung low on his hips. You couldn't help looking at the small patch of hair that traveled down his stomach to the hem of his pants.

"What are your plans today?" He asked stepping closer pulling another cup down "oh..um nothing i know of." You stuttered looking down to your gloved hands. "Are you ok? You look a bit pale." He said stepping closer "yes! Yes I'm fine, just thinking." You said smiling. "Oh? About what?" He asked grabbing a tea bag "n..nothing important, just...that movie we watched last night." You said "Mm, that sappy love story my brother picked, did you like it?" He asked leaning on the counter "I guess, I mean...I don't know, I've never felt that before." You said quietly as the kettle went off. You both tried grabbing it at the same time, your fingers touching as you looked up at him. "You know you do not have to wear those around me y/n, you can't hurt me." He said looking down at you, something shifting in his eyes. "I know, I just..." you started when he gently grabbed your hand, pulling the kettle off he stepped in between your parted legs grabbing your other hand.

He looked into your eyes as he slowly slid your glove off setting it on the counter before pulling the other one off. Setting it down he linked his fingers with yours, his eyes not leaving yours "y/n, may i ask you something?" He asked gripping your hand tighter, your eyes traveling to his lips as you nodded "have you ever...what i meant is do you..." he started when your self control broke down, leaning forward your pressed your lips to his feeling him stiffen as you pulled back quickly seeing his eyes wide. "I..I'm sorry Loki, i...I don't know what came over me." You rushed out trying to move off the counter when he grabbed your hips. "Y/n, w..was that...your first kiss?" He asked watching you intently "umm...yeah, I'm sorry I didn't mean to." You started feeling his finger on your lips. "May I give you a proper first kiss?" He asked smiling.

You stared up at him, your stomach twisting as his hand traveled to your cheek, his thumb rubbing it "i...umm y..yes, I would like that but..." you said looking down "I don't know what to do." You said quietly as he tilted your head back up "just relax, follow my lead." He whispered leaning closer, closing your eyes feeling his soft lips gently press against yours. Tilting your head you moved your lips against his, hearing him moan as you felt his tongue swipe against your lip. "Open your mouth." He whispered against your lips. You did as he said, parting your lips you felt his tongue gently press into your mouth, moving against yours as he sealed his lips over yours. You felt his hands move down your legs pulling you closer as you wrapped your arms around his middle, pulling him to your as the kiss grew more heated, his teeth nipping your lip as he pulled back, pressing his forehead to yours leaving you both panting.

"Norns...I have wanted you so badly." He breathed digging his fingers into your thighs. "I..I want you too Loki." You said looking up at him. "But...are you..." he stuttered "I have never, what was it called...made love? If that is what you mean." You said feeling him tense. "No one has ever touched me that way, but..I find myself wanting you to...only you." You said feeling his hands slide up to your hips "a..are you certain? I mean..." he started when you leaned up pecking his lips "yes...I am certain, with you I always am." You whispered against his lips as he wrapped his hand around the back of your head, kissing you deeply, his tongue dominating yours when you felt a wetness between your thighs making you shift. "Wrap your legs around me." He panted pulling back as he lifted your hips off the counter.

You locked your ankles around his middle, as he walked towards the hall, placing kisses down your neck as your fingers dug into his hair, smiling at how soft it was. "Your room or mine?" He growled, his teeth grazing your collar bone "y..yours...please." You panted as he walked in, kicking the door closed behind him. You looked around seeing daggers displayed on the walls, large paintings spread across the room as he walked you towards the bedroom, his lips never leaving your skin as he leaned forward gently laying you down, looking over seeing the dark green blanket that looked as soft as his hair. Your eyes traveled back to him as he leaned back, his hands on your knees as he looked down at you just now realizing he was in his natural form, shivering seeing something wild in his bright red eyes.

"You are certain this is what you want?" He asked again making you smile "yes Loki, I am sure. I trust you." You said as he leaned forward, settling between your parted legs holding himself up on his elbows "you are so beautiful....my dhalia." He whispered placing a soft kiss on your neck. "W..what.. ahh is that?" You asked feeling his teeth on your neck "it is a flower. Soft....delicate..." he breathed against your skin as he pulled back to look at you "and when it blossoms it is the most vibrant blue." He smiled brushing your hair back "will you blossom for me?" He purred pecking your lips "only for you...my Loki." You breathed as you lifted your head meeting his lips with yours, taking control you pressed your tongue past his lips licking into his mouth hearing him groan.

"I think you are going to be very good at that." He smiled pulling back "I have a good teacher." You panted grabbing his head to kiss him again, his lips unbelievably soft, you never wanted to stop. "Is it ok if I remove your clothes?" He asked looking down at you. "Y..yes..." you panted feeling a warmth spread over you looking down seeing both of your clothes gone. "This will hurt a bit when we begin, but I will try to be as careful as possible." He groaned feeling his hand slowly travel down your side "open your petals for me my love." He whispered feeling his fingers slowly slide down between your thighs you gasped at the feeling as he slid his fingers through your folds spreading you open. "How does that feel?" He moaned moving his fingers up hitting a spot that made you jerk "aah....g..good..." you said digging your nails into his back.

"For a woman, this..." he said rubbing circles around the small spot making you arch into him "is an immense source of pleasure." He smiled moving his fingers faster, feeling a tightness in your stomach. "I...ahh....l..loki wha...." you moaned, squeezing your eyes shut "its ok love, let it take you." He purred when you felt your muscles tense, your nerves felt like they were on fire, squeezing his sides with your legs seeing stars. "There it is...you are ethereal when you come undone." He said slowing his pace "that was your first orgasm, let's see if we can get another." He smiled, his eyes dark as he shifted. "Ok, take a deep breath, I will go slow." He said as you closed your eyes bracing yourself. "Open your eyes love, I want to see you." He breathed feeling him press against your entrance.

You looked up into his eyes as he slowly pushed into you making you gasp. You had read books, and seen movies with the others but this...nothing could compare to this as he inched into you slowly pulling out a bit before pushing back in. "That's is love...mmm fuck....just relax." He groaned, his jaw clenching feeling him stretching you around him, gritting your teeth as your walls were pushed beyond their limit feeling him stop "a..are you still ok?" He asked looking into your eyes "y..yes, I'm ok. It's hurts a bit but I'm ok." You smiled up at him "ok, after this part the worst will be over." He said as he pushed his hips forward, digging your nails hard into his back feeling a sharp pain as he bottomed out, you both panting as he stilled, letting you adjust. "Are you ready for me to move love?" He asked watching you "yes, i...I think so." You said wiggling your hips feeling the pain ease.

He slowly pulled his hips back, almost all the way out as he pushed back in, hitting a soft spot inside you making you moan. "Mm...those sounds are going to....aahh shit....drive me mad." He panted, pulling back out, pushing in hitting it again. G..god.....loki...." you moaned, the pain subsiding into something more...something intense. "Do you feel it love...the way your walls are squeezing me..." he groaned, wrapping his arm under your head he sped up, placing his other hand on your hip he held you in place as his thrusts became faster...harder. "y....yes Loki....ahhh......it feels...." you moaned gripping his back as he thrust hard into you "s..so good..." you panted biting your lip. You felt the tightness in your stomach again, more then before as his stomach pressed to yours, his hand gripping your shoulder feeling his fingers dig into your hip.

"C..come for me love....fucking hell....I need to feel it...to feel you..." he moaned snapped his hips hard into yours feeling yourself tighten around him you screwed your eyes shut holding onto him "that's it...mmmm fuck....t..take everything...." he growled, his words throwing you over the abyss "L..loki...aahh!!" You yelled, clenching hard around him seeing stars behind your eyelids when you felt him twitch inside you. "Aahh....jeg elsker deg ... min dhalia" He growled, thrusting his hips hard against you feeling him release inside you sending a shiver down your spine. He slowly rocked back and forth a few times before he stilled, panting into your shoulder as you held him.

He slowly pulled out of you, laying next to you looking into your eyes "y/n, I do not have the words to express what you mean to me." He said running his fingers through your hair. "There is so much I hated about myself, about my heritage.." he trailed off linking his fingers with yours "but you, my dear dhalia, have helped me see it is not something to hate, but something to embrace." He smiled kissing your nose "I have never felt so free in my long life, you have given me that." He said. "I am yours y/n..my heart, my body..." he said gripping your hand tighter "will you be mine?" He asked searching your eyes, you could see the nervousnessin his as you cupped his cheek "Loki, as long as I can spend the rest of my days with you, I would do anything." You said smiling back at him as he pulled you forward wrapping his arms around you. "You will always have me my sweet dhalia, now and to Valhalla I will be by your side." He whispered into your ear as he cradled you to his chest.

In that moment, you know wherever Loki was, you were home.....

Translation-

jeg elsker deg ... min dhalia-i love you...my dhalia

@vbecker10 @mochie85 @lokisgoodgirl @springdandelixn @kinky-faerie @xorpsbane @midnights-ramblings @simping-for-marvel @holdmytesseract @kkdvkyya @slpnbty2001 @lokixryss @vane28282 @violethaze @coldnique @aniar4wniak @nate-ate-hate @buttercupcookies-blog @brattymum96 @dukes2581 @your-taste-on-my-lips @mybabyh @blog-the-lilly @irishhappiness @sinsandguilt @filthyhiddles @lovebyloki @kikster606 @javagirl328 @misunderstoodself @highkeysimpingforloki @eleniblue @commanding-officer @athalialaufeyson @stupidthoughtsinwriting @lokiandbuckysdoll @loopsisloops @joyful-enchantress @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @high-functioning-lokipath @kittiowolf210 @slytherclaw1227 @joyfullymassivewhispers @wolfsmom1 @libbybeaz @lokikissesmyforehead @goblingirlsarah @thomase1

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ginnympotter · 1 year ago

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A home.

Happy belated birthday Ginny Weasley ily and so does Harry

Harry finally understood why Sirius was so miserable that year.

Although Kreacher was pleasant enough to him, being alone at 12 Grimmauld Place wasn't ideal. It was dark and gloomy and much too large. He didn't protest Ron moving in with George to keep him company for a second, but it was strange, being on his own. He went over to the Burrow for dinner practically every other night, and if Ron and George would stay, he would too. But when he'd return to Grimmauld after a long day of work, he never felt more isolated.

But when Ginny came home for the school holidays and would spend any time not with her family alone with him, the house took on a new life. It was bright and open and sometimes it even felt like it could be home. But maybe that was just Ginny.

It was Easter, and they were winded after some friendly Quidditch matches and a delicious meal from Mrs. Weasley, and Ginny was holding his thigh under the table, laughing at Ron and Hermione's mix of bickering and flirting, telling them to "get a room already," and Ron responded with, "fine, we will!" and grabbed Hermione's hand and dragged her from the table out the kitchen, and her cheeks blushed but she obliged. Ginny grinned victoriously, now with her brother out of sight she wouldn't get scolded for the same activities.

"Mum, we're going to Harry's," she declared as she stood up.

"That's fine, dear," Mrs. Weasley said non-chalantly. "Take some leftover tart."

Tart and Ginny in hand, they apparated to Grimmauld Place. And as soon as they closed the door behind them, Ginny's lips were on his, and one hand wrapped around her waist, and they moved toward the kitchen. "I missed you," she said against his mouth. Harry let the treacle tart slip from his hand onto the counter, before quickly using his now-free hand to run through her hair. They didn't quite make it to the bedroom for the first time round, but made it in time for the second.

As it often happened, he woke up in the middle of the night from a nightmare, sweating and breathing heavily. He sat up, trying to calm himself down, but he didn't have to for long, as a small hand touched his arm. "It's okay," Ginny said softly. "You're safe, Harry."

He swallowed, nodded, and followed the pull of her hand as she moved higher up on the bed and guided his head toward her chest. He laid it there, sighing as she ran her fingers through his scalp soothingly. He closed his eyes and breathed in her scent, it acting as a sleeping draught as he drifted back off.

When he woke again, he felt the rhythm of her breathing was a miracle. He gently kissed her neck, and she hummed, opening her eyes slowly and smiling. "Hey."

He responded by kissing her lips, then her forehead, and then he pulled her to his chest this time. She happily burrowed her face into his skin and sighed. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Always better with you," he told her truthfully. And before he could shove down his courage, "I wish you could always be here."

"Me too," she replied. "But I've still got a couple months left of school."

"Well, what about after?"

She lifted her head up and looked at him. "What about it?"

"Well," he said, feeling the blush spread over his cheeks. "What if you were always here after you graduate?"

"You mean like... living here? With you?"

"I know it's not the most charming place in the world," Harry said. "It wouldn't be forever. Maybe we'd even get our own place one day, but until then, I mean-"

Ginny cut him off with a fierce kiss, and when she finally pulled away she had that blazing look he loved so much. "Yes. I'd love that. I love you."

She returned her mouth to his, and he melted into her touch, and the sun shined through the blinds, and everything felt warm. This could be a home, he thought. And this morning, as Ginny pulled him closer to her, it was beginning to feel like one.

#hinny #ginny weasley #harry potter #fanfic #hp #hp fanfic #one shot #harry potter x ginny weasley

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awritesthings1 · 1 year ago

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The Midas Effect (Part 2)

Anakin Skywalker x Royal Reader

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Royal Reader

Summary: After the King dies, the Dark Ones invade the Capital and burn your palace to the ground. You plan an escape, which ultimately fails and seemingly crash lands you back in time. Will the help of a familiar Jedi be able to save you from your fate?

Word Count: 2.8k+

Note: This is the final part! :)

AO3 link

Previous part

Sometime in the night, you lose yourself to the rhythm of the rain. Its presence swallowed your thoughts away into distant lands where the howl of the clouds drew tears from the sky. Where the valleys drowned themselves in waterfalls pouring down from mountain cliffs. Where mud swallowed earthly greens out of greed and where the creaking of floorboards disappeared under the roaring of the storm.

It was all the same.

Yet you still felt like a stranger in your own home.

The scar across Anakin’s eye remained as memorable as it did the day you last saw him. And the heat of the mug in your hands thawed your hands the same way. Because you couldn’t mistake any of this for anything but real. So it had to be true just the same way you were a girl and he was a Jedi.

For lack of a better term, you missed Anakin Skywalker.

You realize all of this after you position yourself in front of the fireplace. Anakin had gone to gather thicker blankets and fluffier cushions to make your spot on the floor comfier.

The universe had sent you a second chance. You just need to figure out why.

“Anakin.” His name sounds like a prayer on your lips.

Anakin, who was crossing the threshold of the room, stops still in his tracks. “Yes?”

You turn your face away from the fire, fighting away the wobble in your voice with a teary-eyed smile. “Come sit with me?”

He thinks you look like a precious vase on the verge of cracking. Without another word, he scrambles to your side, careful not to make too much noise with the weight of his boots. Anakin is afraid to make any sudden movements and cut the thinly disguised pain on your face.

The truth is, you hated being alone. When you were alone, your thoughts got too loud. It was like being stuffed in an overcrowded room with no door. And no matter how many people you elbowed out of the way, two more would rear their ugly heads. Sometimes you think you might be better off letting them grab your shoulders and press you into the crowd until you wilt away and become a dot among thousands of bodies. At least then you wouldn’t need to worry about where you place your hands.

Anakin must see the slouch in your shoulder when he brushes the back of his knuckles down your arm. You shiver because it’s the flesh hand. If only he knew his mistake before he touched you. Didn’t he know everything you touched turned to stone?

Your father once told you about a king named Midas. Everything he touched turned to gold. What a heavenly gift, you thought. You could have a gold hairbrush, gold slippers, and a large golden mirror. How could that be a curse? The ending never made sense. You would never be so dumb as to touch your family and make the mistake of turning them into gold.

You tense at your naivety. How stupid you had been. Because wasn’t that exactly what you had done? But instead of gold statues, you turned them into chiseled headstones perched in the meticulously groomed family graveyard.

The thoughts cluster together like a star ready to burst.

Bigger and bigger, they swell, burning your toes until it’s large enough that the fireplace disappears and then the room. It’s just you and the taunting ball of light.

“…in your head?” Anakin’s husky voice rasps like the burning sphere. It explodes then, pricking the soles of your feet with shards of debris.

“Huh?” You reply absentmindedly, albeit not all there.

He exhales through his nose slowly, fixing you with an intense stare. Or at least it felt that way. It was easy to feel small next to the Jedi. He was the kind of man your dad would approve of— someone strong and ambitious to rule the kingdom by your side one day. He’d give you one of those sly looks fathers gave their daughters after a joke they told fell flat. You scrunch your nose at that.

“You were fine before you went to bed. Did you have a nightmare?” Anakin asks.

You are almost certain that’s not what he said originally, but you don’t have an ounce left in your frail body to argue.

You shake your head, hoping he will let it go. How would you explain that you almost died in a crash and accidentally traveled back in time into your younger body? It wasn’t like Anakin had any reason to trust you. You had never been close, and you mostly avoided everyone after your father’s passing.

His lips part as if to say something, but he presses them closed shortly after to embrace the silence. You would thank him if you didn’t feel like a ghost trapped in a stranger’s place. What use are your hands when they tremble and cramp? Anakin would be wise to cut one off to replace his metal hand so at least then one of your hands would be able to save people.

He shuffles closer until you feel the tickle of his golden locks. “Did I ever tell you the story of how I lost my hand?”

Your teeth gnaw on the flesh of your bottom lip. You think if he opens his mouth one more time in that silky, soft rasp of his, you will burst into tears. Just one more sweet ounce of affection, and you would throw up at his feet and effectively soak his robes with your pathetic tears.

“Obi-Wan and I were on Genosis—”

It all comes out. All the muffled noise that had been prowling through your head comes crashing out.

“Come here,” Anakin abandons the story, shuffling closer until his whole body is pressed into your side.

The leather material of his glove combs through your head. You almost purr like a lothcat at the sensation. But instead, you just cry into the cusp of his neck where you can feel the pulse of an artery. His fingers brush loose strands out of your mouth and behind your ear. Anakin’s chin rests on your head, mumbling something unintelligible under his breath. It’s probably something like, you’re alright, or it’ll all be fine, that people say when they don’t know how to comfort anyone. You’ve heard them a million times, and it never makes you feel any better.

Intertwining your hand with Anakin’s leather one, you pull it to your lap where you fiddle with the notches.

“Can I see it?” You sniff.

His brows furrow as you watch the cogs turn in his head. After a moment, he lets out a sigh, releasing your hair to unlatch the leather glove. Before he removes it, you place your hand over his and tug away the glove yourself. What you see next makes you bite down hard on your tongue.

It’s gold. His metal arm is gold.

The Midas effect: everything you touch turns to gold.

Anakin mistakes your delirious laughter for tears, shushing you and trying to rock you gently. “The Midas effect! The Midas effect,” you babble mindlessly, batting his attentive touch away. When Anakin pauses to hold your shoulders, you continue. “The Midas effect, Anakin,” you laugh while a tear slips out.

“What’s that?” He questions.

“The King whose touch turns everything to gold. I’m cursed like him.”

Puzzled, he looks at his golden arm. Even through your weary-eyed mess, you catch the faintest smirk on his face. By now, your maniacal laughter had died down enough to hear a gentle chuckle from the Jedi. Maybe your state of mind has brushed off on him. If anyone saw the two of you, they would surely think you were both patients who escaped a ward.

Anakin smiles at you. “Who told you that?”

“You haven’t heard the story of King Midas?” You match his grin.

He bites his lip, shaking his head. “It’s not a story the Jedi have ever told me.”

You swallow a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. It would be too easy to shamelessly sink into the Jedi’s arms and bury your head in his chest forever. Of course, if he hugged you back, it would be out of pity because it was his job to look out for you. Regardless, you don’t really care at this point.

Anakin clears his throat. “You should get to bed; it’s late.”

It’s been late for the past couple of hours, you think wryly. “I don’t want to go to sleep.”

He ignores you, reaching for his glove to refasten it on his arm. “Let’s go; all princesses need their beauty sleep,” but you don’t budge from your spot. Quietly, he slips out to the kitchen to fetch a bucket of water. When he returns, you watch him douse the fire until it sizzles out.

“Can you show me a Force trick?” You lean back onto the floor, stretching out like a star.

He sighs, turning around as if to check to see if anyone was hiding nearby before turning back to you. “Is there a reason you don’t want to go to bed?”

You blink up at him lazily. “What if I don’t wake up?” The words slip past your lips without a thought. God, look at you. How could anyone ever trust you with being Queen? Not when the filter keeping your deepest fears broke in a matter of hours within the presence of a Jedi.

Anakin inhales sharply. Perhaps you misjudged him. Maybe that was his Jedi trick— bringing the most unsettling thoughts to the surface.

“I’ll keep watch over you,” he nods.

“You promise?”

“I’ll be right next to you when you wake.”

You watch him as if he were a shooting star, burning so bright but gone in the blink of an eye. Your eyes burn, afraid to close them and snuff the light out. You don’t know what waits for you on the other side. Death, perhaps. Would it be dark? Would it be cold? You had heard tales of kings who buried everything they would take to the afterlife with them: their favorite wine, lavish furs, cutlery and furniture. Yet all you have is the servant’s dress you had put on earlier. If you were wiser, you would have stopped pulling at the loose thread at the hem so you wouldn’t have to worry about having one rag to your name in the afterlife. Huh. How ironic, you think, a queen with only a rag to her name. There’s something awfully fitting about that.

“Will you hold my hand?” You don’t want to go into the end alone.

Wordlessly, he lies down next to you on the floor, mimicking your position. His cheek presses into the floor, watching you as he slides his leather hand closer. Anakin’s hand is much larger than yours when he encompasses it gently and rubs his thumb up and down your knuckles.

Your skin is dry and stiff from where your tears have dried, but you still find it in you to smile out of gratitude.

“Goodnight, Anakin.”

And how lucky you must be to know that the tender caress of skin feels the same as slipping into a dream.

You find that death isn’t as scary as you expected. Its shrill cry rings like a bell in your ear, awakening you from a deep slumber. Death’s arms are wound tight across your chest in an unwanted hug. Instinctively, you claw at your chest to pull it away. It tightens then, and you jump at the sound of your own scream.

Your eyes fly open, just as the harness of your seat digs into your skin.

You survived.

Relief floods over your head and you sink beneath it. The moment is brief, enough to steal a burning gulp of air. It isn’t fresh or clean, and your lungs protest at the smoke, but it’s the fuel you need to keep pushing.

Shaking hands reach to undo your harness, and you think it’s a bit strange how one is concealed by a leather glove. Neither Vee nor the Alderaan pilot were wearing one when you boarded. You spare a look up.

“Getting yourself into more trouble, princess?”

I’ll be right next to you when you wake.

Anakin had never been a liar.

When the harness clicks open, you throw yourself at him despite, your legs giving out halfway there. He catches you in the rush, the hood of his robe falling back to reveal those tender curls you always loved. Anakin laughs a boyishly. It reminds you of timber crackling in the fireplace.

“Good to see you too,” he smiles, brushing away the dirt and sweat you felt sticking to your face.

You don’t even consider the repercussions of your actions as you sling both arms around his neck and pull him into a kiss. It must be the shock, you think, or perhaps part of you still thought you were dreaming. Either way, he doesn’t pull back and it makes your stomach twist into knots.

When you pull back, you push him away and scream joyously at the sky, stretching your arms as far as they will go. You forget about it all, letting the hairs on your arms stand tall and shiver in a satisfying way.

And then it hits you.

“Vee!” You cry, hissing at the throbbing sensation in your head as you must have whipped your head around too quickly.

She comes running around a large piece of debris from the ship with her hands gathered in her skirt. Behind her is the Alderaan pilot, who cradles his arm carefully across his chest. “Are you hurt?” She asks.

“I’m fine. How about you?” You answer, although your words are muffled into her shoulder as you embrace.

“I was lucky. Only a broken arm over there,” she says, looking back at the pilot, a small smile ghosting her lips before turning back. She stills.

You follow her gaze over your shoulder to Anakin. He looks just as unnerved. Your eyebrows furrow. “Vee, you remember Anakin. The Jedi that guarded me after my…” The words die on your tongue. After my father died.

She clears her throat. “Forgive me, Jedi Skywalker. I am just surprised, that is all. I thought the Jedi were a thing of the past.” Her words are curt.

You flinch at her formal address. It probably wasn’t appropriate for you to refer to Anakin by his first name, but it also couldn’t have been appropriate to kiss him either.

Anakin sneaks a glance at you, catching his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment before looking back at Vee. “We may not have a temple anymore,” he says, holding your gaze, “but we do have our responsibilities.”

“What happened to you?” You don’t mean for it to come out so suddenly, but like most things in your life, it passed you by.

He swallows and forgets to blink. “Your ship won’t make it past their lines in the sky. I suggest we take mine; it should have landed just past that hill.” He gestures somewhere in the distance. “And then we will get that cut cleaned, my lady.”

Your mouth sours at the formality before reaching above your eyebrow. When you pull your fingers away, they are covered in fresh blood. Oh.

Anakin brushes past you, swiping the faintest touch across your arm as he does. You study Vee and the Alderaan pilot to see if they caught it, but they appear unphased. Quietly, you follow behind him.

After a minute of walking in silence, you speak up. “Why did you come back?”

“I heard about the invasion of Caridaan and figured a little princess may need my help.”

“Queen.”

“What?”

“I’m Queen now.”

Anakin grins, still focused on his ship in the distance. His smile hasn’t changed.

“You remember that story you told me? About the King who turned everything to gold?” Anakin begins. You nod, confused about where he was going with this. Regardless, you watch as he fumbles beneath his robe to reveal his silver lightsaber. He stops in his tracks, grabbing your arm gently to draw your attention closer. “Put your hand out.”

You gape at him. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he sighs, putting the metal hilt into your hand anyway. It’s heavier than you expected, larger too. You wonder how he is able to wrap his hand around the whole thing. “Press the button.” He shifts to your side to stay clear of the direction you are holding his weapon.

When you do, a single beam of blue light ignites. It hums beneath your grip. “I don’t understand,” you gulp. You never really knew much about the Jedi. Anakin had told you about the different colors briefly, how the good guys were blue and green, and the bad guys were red. Still, you failed to understand what point he was trying to prove.

By your side, Anakin inhales deeply before exhaling. “Doesn’t look cursed to me.”

The King whose touch turns everything to gold. I’m cursed like him.

You see a silly reflection of yourself in the silver hilt.

The silver metal feels just right in your hand.

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin fanfiction #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker #hayden christensen #star wars anakin #anakin x you #sw anakin #star wars fanfiction #star wars #anakin skywalker x you #anakin #anakin imagine #anakin one shot #star wars x reader #anakin star wars #hayden christensen x reader

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tillthelandslide · 1 year ago

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Pressure Part 2: Missing - Ross Macdonald Series

A/n: really hope you enjoy this new chapter. Tumblr loves to silence me so it would mean a lot of you were to reblog this :) let me know what you think and if you have any ideas, feel free to message me. Let me know if you'd like to be a part of the taglist

Warnings: main character smoking weed, brief mention of drug abuse (kind of), bit of a rollercoaster

Taglist: @thefrontofmymind @throughthepostmodernlens @scooby-doodoo @confusedcrayon @fallingforel @zzzhealy @achangeofheartx @alien-girl-violet

1 missed call from George.

3 messages from Matty.

2 messages from Charli.

1 message from Jamie.

0 missed calls from Ross, 0 texts

1 year and 2 months since Alex.

They were hiding in some dark corner of today's venue, speaking in hushed tones, pressed closely together, different music equipment crowded around them, doing a good job of hiding them. Her hands were resting against his chest as his took in her waist, lips moving against each other as they quietly giggled like teenagers. They remember the days when they were teenagers, acting very similarly to how they were now, hiding this huge secret from their best friends. They felt like there was often this shift in their relationship, they were adults now and they both knew they weren't messing about anymore, this was serious, it was unspoken and sometimes that wasn't enough for Ross, he wanted to know for certain that she was his. But in moments like these, when her soft mouth was pressing relentlessly against his, his mouth swallowing her giggles, pressed tightly against each other, everything else just disappeared.

They kept hearing people walk past, hushing each other when it was someone particularly important. They could hear George asking someone where Ross was, just as Ross had pushed himself forward slightly and against her core, making him groan into her mouth.

"Shhhh" she hushes him, trying not to laugh at the whole ordeal, this would not be the ideal time for her best friend to find out.

Ross continues pressing his lips to hers, eagerly finding her tongue, making her sigh against him.

"Where is this freaking man?" They hear George shout. They both have to suppress their laughter.

"Babe calm down, he's probably on the phone to rob" they hear Charli say.

"Well he's supposed to be doing his fucking job" they laugh at that and pull away from each other.

"You should probably go before he kills you" she murmurs as he places gentle kisses to her mouth. He nods against her, despite not wanting to leave her, mouths separating before meeting again as he does.

They leave one after another after that and she pretends she's only just arrived when she finds the rest of the men in the main room backstage, accepting the firm hug from Charli and then George before she sees Ross behind her, having walked the long way round so they didn't arrive together.

"Where the hell have you been?" George asks and she tries to hide her smirk, doing so quite successfully, although Ross' eyes glint as they find hers.

"On the phone to my brother... Were you looking for me?" He says, reaming unbelievably calm and collected.

"For fucking ages mate" George says making her laugh. Ross smiles at her and she really has to try not to laugh as he speaks.

"You're here! Hi" he says, as if they hadn't just been making out for the past 10 minutes. They hug and she sighs against his chest, chuckling into him so only he can hear.

"Ah good you found Ross" Matty says, and the large man leaves her hold, making her pout "oh and Eliza's here, wonderful" Matty says and he hugs her briefly, before addressing the band.

"Why do you look disheveled?... Whatever they want us for soundcheck" Matty says, looking at Ross,Eliza has to stop herself from chuckling at the whole ordeal. The band leave after that, being ushered away by Matty, meaning Charli and Eliza are left on their own.

Charli's eyebrows raise at her and she feels confused.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She asks and Charli shakes her head at her.

"I know the look of someone whose getting good dick... That hickey on your neck and the way you're glowing are tell tell signs" Charli says, she feels conflicted at her own words but she knows, more than anything, Eliza needed her to be normal, just Charli. She knows Eliza wouldn't want her constantly checking on her, she needed Charli to be Charli: her fun, crazy best friend, she needed to joke about sex and laugh at weird jokes and gossip about people. Her hands snap up to her neck and Charli chuckles, there isn't a single mark on her neck.

"I fucking knew it! Who's the lucky fella?" She asks, the two girls coming to sit on the one of the sofas. She doesn't know what to say so laughs and tries to deter the conversation.

"You're ridiculous" it seems to work.

"Whatever, don't tell me... It's not like I'm your best friend or anything" Charli says, knowing George is actually her best friend but she also knows she's a close second.

"It's complicated char, just leave it yeah?" She asks nicely and Charli nods, holding her hands up, letting the other woman know she's dropping it.

Charli wants nothing more to ask her if she's okay, but she knows she will most likely deflect, or she'll lie. So they simply talk about random things and before they know it the boys have returned, George making a direct belign to the girls, squishing himself between them, pressing a hard kiss to both their cheeks making them squirm.

"Ew stop" she says, making Charli and the man child that's in-between them laugh. She manages to escape his grasp, jokingly shoving her best friend away from her. Ross walks in the room, their eyes instantly finding each other, knowing they needed to come up with an excuse to get away from the group, so they could be alone.

"Coming with me?" She hears behind her, making her turn her head, finding Matty with a cigarette resting casually between his lips. Her eyes flick back to Ross, he scans her features and then frowns, knowing she'd be joining Matty, she flicks her head in Matty's direction, silently asking Ross to join them.

She shrugs before turning back to Matty "yeah I'll come" she watches as the curly hair man points behind her "you coming mate?". She smiles to herself as she walks ahead of them, knowing Matty had just asked Ross who couldn't deny him. She gets outside before they do, pulling a blunt from her bag and lighting it, needing something more than a cigarette.

Ross and Matty come through the double doors only a few seconds later, Matty laughing upon seeing her, but Ross' eyebrows furrow.

"If I had known you were carrying greater goods I would've got sound check done earlier" Matty says making himself laugh. He goes to grab the blunt from her but she pulls it away so it's out of reach.

"You've got a stage to be on in less than an hour" she says, it's not the actual reason she doesn't want to share but it will do, it makes Matty give in.

Ross doesn't care about people smoking weed, or doing drugs for that matter (he gets worried when people do hard core drugs, especially around Matty) but with the rate he's seen her smoking it recently, he can't help but worry.

"Why are you smoking weed then miss Eliza?" Matty says, hooking an arm around her shoulder. He immediately regrets his words, the reason was obvious and he feels like an utter dick for saying it. She immediately shrugs him off which makes him laugh, Eliza doesn't miss the way Ross clenches his jaw.

"Aren't you being nosey today mate?" Ross says, his words playing off as a joke but she knows he's actually telling Matty to back off. Matty holds his hands up, he always was a quick smoker so reaches the end of his cigarette and stubs it out.

"Alright alright" he says before he heads back in, leaving the two of them outside.

"How do we always end up here?" She chuckles. The particular venue they were at today, had its smoking area situated in the back corner, hidden from anyone who they wouldn't want to be caught by.

"Hmm, think..." He says, taking a step closer to her, hands reaching out for her hips, he pulls her towards him before moving them both back so he's against the wall and she's against his body.

"Think we usually end up like this" he says making her chuckle, throwing her blunt to the floor and clasping his jaw. The both of them we're thankful George would be too wrapped up with the show and his girlfriend right now to search for them.

"Missed you" he mumbles against her lips as they come to meet his.

"You were without me for about 30 minutes" she chuckles, her words momentarily breaking their mouths before they're against each other again. The only time she forgot about every horrible thing going on in her life was when she was with him. Their lips and bodies didn't even have to be intertwined but it sure did help.

"Still missed you... Feel like I haven't had you alone to myself in awhile" he says, pulling back from her mouth to properly speak. He sighs, knowing he just had to ask her.

"Are you okay love?" He asks and she sighs. He's probably the only person at the moment who she wouldn't get annoyed at if they asked.

"No" she chuckles "you help though" she says, trying to kiss him again but he stops her.

"No wait Eliza... Come on, talk to me" he says, and she signs again, starting to get annoyed.

"Ross... Don't ruin it" she says and he sighs now, dropping his hands from her waist.

"That's not fair" his tone is snappy and his eyes find hers, letting her know he's sorry for speaking that way.

"It's not like we haven't spoke about it... So why won't you talk now?" He asks, hands returning to her waist.

"Because I don't want to Ross. I don't want to think about any of it... Thought that was pretty fucking obvious" she snaps, but it's true, Ross knows she only smokes weed when she doesn't want to think about her problems, when she just wants her brain to be silent. Her eyes find his now and she's the one apologising for speaking that way.

"Let's just leave it yeah?" She asks and despite every desire he has to keep pressing until she tells him the truth, he nods. He leans down to press a kiss to her mouth, one in which tells her he's got her, he's here and he's sure as hell not going anywhere. If they weren't going to speak about everything that was going on with her, Ross knew he needed to at least show her how he felt. Show her that he was there for her, always.

She stands at his side of the stage, during some songs she's there, fully present in mind and body, during others she's standing there, but Ross can tell she's not present. Others she's just not there, it makes Ross worry, where has she gone? Who's she with? Is she safe?

And then she appears again, a bottle of wine in her hand or a cigarette, or both.

She smiles at him and wiggles her eyebrows at times, sometimes she's just his girl, his little secret, the person she was before. She was Eliza, just Eliza. But then he could see the pain come tumbling down on her again, and once again she'd disappear.

Four songs to the end and she was gone for good, having not come back since the last time she left. He hopes she's just with Jamie or Charli or someone else backstage, someone trusted.

He's the first to leave the stage, receiving a look from Charli as he walks past. So she wasn't with Charli, shit.

He tries to find her in a rush, practically barging through every door of every room trying to find her. Eventually he looks in his own room, unsure why he didn't check there first. He finds her in a ball on the sofa, one of Ross' jumpers slumped over her body, practically finishing at her calves.

Her soft eyes find his as he enters and he's with her in the next second, pulling her into his lap, her bated breath steading as he holds her, kisses pressed to her head.

"You were really good out there...." She says weakly "always amazing" he hushes her, she didn't need to say that now.

"I'm here love, I've got you" he says and he feels her breathing slow to a normal rate.

"You've got me" she says, needing to confirm his words out loud to quiet her determined but harsh brain.

"Yeah I've got you love. Always" he says, she turns her head to look at him, taking in his post-performance appearance.

His hand gently smooths down her cheek, a gentle touch that has her eyes fluttering momentarily before her green eyes are finding his brown ones again.

Her mind is silenced as she looks at him, nothing clouding her mind or cracking her heart, the pit in her stomach has gone, replaced but a warm fuzzy feeling.

"Are you okay?" He asks, he has to.

"I am now" she says, it's the truth.

"Eliza" he says.

"Shhhh" she leans forward, pressing her mouth to his. He can't help but lean into it, hand grasping her jaw and pulling her closer. He tries his hardest to break the kiss but she was his opposite pole, together they were a magnet, slotting perfectly together and difficult to pull apart. Eventually they're forced to pull away when they hear the door knob rattle. Lucky he locked the door.

"Ross... Have you seen Eliza? George is looking for her" they hear Charli say.

"I think she knows anyway" she says and Ross nods, having thought the same thing recently. They both stand and Ross opens the door. Charli sees her standing behind her, his large frame nearly completely covering hers. She's silent for a second, eyes flicking between them.

"George is looking for you" she says, there's a hesitance to her voice. She didn't want to make them feel uncomfortable, she didn't want them to worry about her telling George because she wouldn't. She couldn't. She didn't know anything, right now, it looked perfectly innocent and she wasnt going to rush to tell her boyfriend something that wasn't confirmed or denied. She also couldn't hurt Eliza like that if something was happening.

Whatever it was, it was clear to Charli that she was better when she was with Ross.

"Okay... I'll go find him" Eliza takes of Ross' hoodie and leaves after that. Charli and Ross stare at each other until Ross breaks.

"Please don't tell George" Ross says, serious worry sketched across his features.

"Tell George what?" Charli leaves. Ross' shoulders fall back to their normal position and the breath he didn't know he was holding escapes him.

She leaves her own hotel room as quietly as she can, slowly moving down the hall until she's reaching his door. She doesn't even knock and the door swings open, he pulls her in, taking her in his arms. She instantly feels warm in his arms, like she's stepped into the sun.

"missed you" he mumbles into her neck. George had taken her away from the group after the show, wanting some alone time with his best friend and although it was a welcomed distraction, she found herself wanting to be with Ross.

"Missed you more" she mumbles back into his chest, pulling back to look at him after she spoke. His hand finds her face, gently holding her, his thumb running across her cheek.

"You're so beautiful" he speaks the words before he even processes the fact he's saying them. She blushes deeply and smiles up at him, shaking her head but not speaking.

"come here" he pulls them to his bed, their backs finding the soft mattress. He pulls her until she's resting against his chest, his heartbeat steady against her ear. She slowly feels herself drifting off to sleep, the warmth of his body radiating hers until her soft snores fill the room.

The morning sun peaked through the curtains, illuminating her room, bands of orange and white light drifting over the contours of his face. He's stirred awake as the light flickers over his eyes, they slowly drift open, brown orbs finding her green ones.

"morning handsome" she says making him chuckle, his eyes scrunching shut for a second as he stretches, his arms reaching over his head before coming back down, resting over her frame and pulling her closer to him, making her giggle loudly.

"you're a creep" he mumbles into her neck, lips attacking the revealed skin of her neck and collar bones.

"I have no clue what you're talking about" she says, squirming away from his featherlight attack against her skin, but he keeps her in his hold.

"how long were you watching me sleep?" He says and she giggles again.

"shhh Alex might hear us" he says, pulling back to look at her, a worried expression etched across his features.

"he won't care" Eliza says as she smears her lips against Ross', the first kiss of the morning. Ross all but groans into her mouth, pulling her ever closer to his body. He's quick to push her onto her back, intertwining their bodies, making himself at home in-between her thighs.

"god I missed you" he mumbles against her mouth, his tongue then swiping along her bottom lip until it's finding hers.

"show me how much you missed me" she says and he's soon accepting the challenge.

Eventually they're in her kitchen, she's situated on the countertop, adorning a shirt of his as he cooks them breakfast.

"morning Macdonald, didn't know you were back from tour" they hear behind them, her brother making himself known, he smiles at the two of them, raising his eyebrows at his sister. Of course he did know he was back, his bags were left by their front door.

"got back last night" Ross says without much thought into his confession.

"mhmm" Alex says, raising his eyebrows again at Eliza who chuckles to herself. Ross is fully clothed now, dressed in grey joggers and an old band Tshirt.

"Feel good to be back?" Alex asks as he pours himself a cup of coffee.

"Feels amazing" Ross says, looking at Eliza and smiling. Alex moves to his sister before he speaks.

"yeah I bet it does" he says before pressing a peck to Eliza's redening cheek before leaving the room. The two laugh and she smiles at Ross, watching as his back muscles contort under his shirt as he flips the food in the sizzling pan.

"come here a second" Eliza says and Ross does as he's told, stepping in between her legs, cooking utensil in hand.

They're basically the same height at the level, which makes it far too easy for her to lean forward and press her mouth to his.

She stirs from her dream, feeling her body shaking and tears soaking her cheeks.

"love are you okay?" Ross asks, flinching at his own words, of course she wasn't okay.

"Just a dream" she says, wiping her own eyes as he pulls her closer to him.

"Alex?" The mention of his name has another tear falling and he quickly swipes if away as she nods.

"it was a good dream... not even a dream... a memory" she says, swiping her hair away from her face and sighing deeply "That morning after you got back from tour... When you cooked us breakfast" she explains and they both smile at the memory.

"That was a great day" he says and she nods, he pulls her tightly into her chest, lips pressing kisses against the top of her head, his hand soothing down her back.

"He knew back then... About us... He was so happy for me" she cries then, hiding her face into his shirt, too sad to worry about her tears soaking the fabric.

"Im so sorry love"

"it should've been me" her voice is barely a whisper but he hears it, instantly pulling her back from his chest to look at her.

"don't. Don't say that" he says, shaking his head, sadness written all over his face.

"why? Alex didn't deserve it... He was too good" she says and Ross frowns.

"He didn't deserve it, you're right... But neither do you love. It's not a trade off... Not you or him... It was an accident, a terrible one..." He says and she nods, but something doesn't sit right with her still.

"I'd trade our positions in a heartbeat" Ross feels his heart break at that.

"love...." His voice trials off, she pouts up at him, her lips quivering. He chooses to drop what he wanted to say, that she was too good, that Alex would've wanted her to be the one that lived and that she was needed. Ross needed her more than anything and although selfish and maybe insensitive, he wouldn't swap the siblings positions if he had the chance.

He pulls her back to his chest and holds her until her body stops shaking and her tears stop falling. He doesn't speak what's on his mind.

"Do you think we've put Charli in an awkward position?" She finally speaks out, her voice stronger than before, no longer laced with tears.

"No love... Don't think you need to worry about that" Ross speaks, his lips pressing until the side of her head. She moves against his chest, resting her cheek against his shoulder so she can look at him.

Her small hand glides against his jaw, thumb running along his cheekbone, eyes hovering over his features. Her eyes moved to his red lips that were plump and easily stretched into a smile as he looked down at her, watching as she admired him. Hovering over the contours of his face, watching as the apples of his cheeks filled out as he smiled, the dimples she adored popping, the whites of his teeth shining in the dim light of the room. Her hands smoothed over his beard, the crinkles that were always formed by his eyes as he smiled ceasing as they fluttered shut for a second. Her hands continue to move, pushing back some of the hair that had fallen in front of his face, free from its usual confines of a bun. Her eyes finally stop at his eyes, which bore into hers, the brown smooth like honey but more akin to chocolate.

She could get lost in his beautiful orbs and often allowed herself too. They looked lighter than usual, the soft light that was cast over the room (indicating that it was already the early hours of the morning) made them lighter, revealing shades of yellow and specs of green. He was truly beautiful, inside and out.

"I'm sorry" she says, her voice is the clearest it's been the whole night. She watches as his eyebrows furrow.

"What do you have go be sorry for Liza?" He asks, his own hand coming to rest against her face, drifting along the apple of her cheek, leaning forward and placing a chaste kiss against her mouth.

"You deserve better than hiding in corners at venues, sneaking around hotel rooms..." Her voice trails off, tired of listing examples because she knew they would make her feel guilty.

"but it means I get you... It's all worth it because I get you" he speaks half a truth. The full truth was that he was happy he got her but he can't deny he wanted her fully, he wanted to be able to hold her hand, hug and kiss her in front of their friends. He wanted to be able to leave and arrive at the same time, together.

She doesn't tell him her truth either, that the night Alex died, she was coming to the venue and was going to ask Ross if they could tell George: together. But that feels like a lifetime ago to her now and although the desire is still alight, she doesn't know how to navigate that conversation anymore. Not when she was still healing from losing her brother.

"I would do anything to have you L... Even for a day" he says, his words making her heart soar.

"Ross...." Is all she can manage to say and he smiles as he shakes his head.

"shhh" he presses his mouth to hers then, silencing her completely whilst simultaneously letting her know nothing else needed to be said, from her anyway.

"I will be here, as long as you'll have me love... And I know you don't think it... But I'll help you get through this" he says, mouth moving lightly against hers as he spoke before he seals his words with another kiss.

"I lo-" her words are cut off by a hush from the bearded man. He didn't need to hear those words right now, he needed to heal her in one way he knew how to.

"come here" he says, pulling her closer, a difficult feat considering their chests were already flushed together. Her limbs entangle with his as his mouth gently moves against hers, making it difficult to know where he began and she ended.

Part 3

#ross macdonald #ross the 1975 #ross mcdonald fanfic #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald one shot #ross macdonald x oc #ross macdonald x ofc #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 #matty healy #adam hann #george daniel #the 1975 x oc #ross macdonald smut #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald angst #the 1975 angst

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mimiplaysgames · 3 months ago

Text

The Bed Story, ch. 5 (Shadows)

Terraqua Week, Day 5

Terra/Aqua | Terra/Anti-Aqua Rating: M Word Count: 4,123 @terraquaweek

Summary: Terra meets Anti-Aqua, and he's sorry for the things they did and didn't do.

Read on AO3

A/N: Lol you know how I said I blurred the line between NSFW and SFW? lol

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Laying on his bed, with his head toward the windowsill, Terra gazed up at the stars. The Land of Departure existed on a nexus between Light and Dark, so the constellations changed every few weeks, as if the entire sky orbited the Departure's axis. Terra, Aqua and Ven often spent nights naming new ones, and Terra had never seen one reappear. That was how many worlds were out there.

So many worlds, and Aqua apparently found one, with trees that grew star shaped fruit. She made him and Ven Wayfinders in their image, so they always felt connected. It was the first time he and Aqua had spoken since... Tasting each other. Aqua played it cool, pretending like nothing happened when she offered Terra the orange Wayfinder.

Of course, in the weeks between, Ven noticed something was off, and Terra said they were too busy studying for the exam. When Ven pointed out that they should be practicing by sparring each other, apparently Aqua told him the Mark of Mastery included solo performances of their magic, which she lacked at. Terra pretended to agree.

Terra and Aqua both sparred instead with Ven, each, making appointments.

Ven was smart enough not to be convinced. “You guys are always in competition with each other. Pssh. Fighting over me.”

Terra told Ven to shut it. So Ven did.

Terra held his Wayfinder over his head. Light from his ceiling lamp pierced through the orange stained glass. Aqua took so much time, with so much care, to bend the metal holding the glass together, and making it all symmetrical. Terra had no idea she was up to this. She must have lost sleep.

Someone knocked on his door.

Must be Ven. “Come in.”

It was Aqua. She closed the door behind her, and leaned against the wood. Terra… should he stay on his bed? Was that awkward? He stood up. Should he sit at his desk? Was that awkward?

Stars, it was awkward to gape at her. “Aqua.” His voice trembled.

Aqua bit her lip (stars), tucked her hair behind her ear (stars), and her hair, of course, didn’t stay (stars, his lower stomach ached for her).

“I think we should talk,” she said.

Terra smirked. “The night before the exam. Perfect timing,” he muttered, but loud enough for her to hear.

She flinched. “I didn’t think it was right that we kept up the silent treatment. We are dueling tomorrow. We need this out of the way.”

That warmth in his stomach turned cold, and now was heat across his forehead. He walked to his desk to give his hands something to do, and he placed his Wayfinder on his desk. “Whose fault was that?”

“Mine.”

Terra wasn’t expecting her to admit it so quickly. One hand leaning on his chair, the other gripping his hip. He still didn’t know what to do with them. “Well, thanks. I appreciate the non-apology.” He meant it in jest, giving her a simple, small, gentle smile to thaw the situation.

Aqua didn’t smile back. “I, um, I asked Ven if I could hold his Keyblade.”

Terra nearly coughed. “And?”

“Nothing happened.” She fiddled with her fingers. “Wayward Wind was sweet. Generous and open-minded. I didn’t have trouble casting spells with it, and nothing serious happened.” She swallowed, and blushed. “Intention, I believe, plays a large role in handling Keyblades that aren’t yours. Everything was innocent. There is nothing between Ven and me.”

Terra’s heart pounded. Ridiculously hard. Hope was a treachery sometimes. “Are… you saying there’s something between us?”

Aqua didn’t answer. Her breath stumbled as she tried to say something, but every time she started, she clamped her mouth shut. She stared holes into the carpet. And blushed.

With urgency, she walked up to Terra, then stopped, her hands at her chin. Terra caught the smell of lavender. Just showered.

Aqua pressed her palm on his chest, glanced into his eyes, summoned Rainfell, and slid the hilt to his limp hand.

She breathed deeply and closed her eyes when he grabbed it. Touch me, Rainfell said to him, so he squeezed it. Touch me, it pleaded.

He glided fingers over her wrists. Then her forearm, sneaking under her sleeves like they’re hiding something. No, not there, Rainfell said.

Aqua inched closer, her eyes still closed, soaking his touch as brought his fingers to her shoulder, to the edge of her collarbone, up her neck and to her jaw. Her skin was soft.

Not there either. You know where.

He brought them down to her waist and over, and slipped them underneath the X-shaped straps on her bare back. He wanted her clothes off. He wanted to feel more.

Her eyes were closed, and her lips were slightly open, waiting. He almost kissed her, but perhaps he took too much time, as Aqua kissed him instead, desperately inviting his tongue, with her arms around his neck. Terra’s heart never beat so fast, fast, fast, yes, this was everything he wanted.

“Summon Earthshaker,” she whispered in his ear.

He did, and when she grabbed its hilt, he moaned. Between his legs throbbed, and she understood, pressing her body against his. She tore his armor from his arm; he slipped her sleeves off. She untangled his suspenders, and he unbuckled her straps, then they crashed back together. Disconnected again to take his shirt off, crashed, as her hands explored the eloquence of the work he put into his muscles.

Earthshaker spoke to her. Terra knew what it said: I want to have you. I want to keep you.

What would the Master think about them using their Keyblades this way?

Don’t think about the Master.

Aqua… pushed? She grabbed his arms. Pushed them. Pulled them back.

Terra snorted. “Aqua, if you let me touch you, I promise I will.”

Visibly frustrated with him interrupting things, she pushed him. On fighting reflex from years of sparring with her, Terra grabbed her wrist. Rainfell liked that.

He pulled her to him and kissed her, needing her tongue, and again, he felt her pressure on his chest as if she was going to push him again.

He laughed into her mouth. “I don’t know what you’re doing. I’m stronger than you. I’ll fight back.”

Rainfell vibrated. Oh.

“Prove it,” she says.

Aqua liked him strong, and Terra liked that she admired his strength.

Liked it? He ate it. She was strong, too, a good challenge to wrestle with—something he was sure to win.

He dropped Rainfell and picked her up. She dropped Earthshaker to dig both her hands into his hair. Legs wrapped around his waist, Aqua sighed into his lips, and he took her to his bed, making sure to pin her wrists to his sheets, pin her chest with his, pin her hips with his. She whimpered with need as she pressed her hips up against him, but he was the one on top. And he won. He moaned with her.

“Why do you wear this?” Terra said, his voice coarse, as he fumbled with the bows of her corset.

“Take it off.”

Terra laughed into her, and she laughed back. “I’m trying. You make it more complicated than it should be.”

“Or maybe you should be more dexterous.” Like her? She was flexible, urging him on with her leg wrapped around his hip. She clawed at her corset.

“Or maybe you should have planned ahead.”

“Or maybe you should stop stalling and take it off.”

They had to disconnect to slip the corset over her head, and there was that void, quickly remedied when Terra came down to kiss her, hard, losing himself in her lips.

Shhh, Ven will hear us, she said. The door is closed, he said. Still, shhh.

Softly, tenderly, slow. Following her lead, they kissed with care, fitting their lips before really feeling. Slower. She breathed his breath, running her hands over the slops of his shoulders. With his eyes open, Aqua was beautiful. Closed, she was stunning. And like this, as she kissed the dip between his throat and his jaw—who was Terra fooling? She won. If she asked him to turn over to his back, or bow on his knees, he would gladly forfeit.

Terra tested her skin as he slipped his hungry touch under her shirt, drinking the curve of her waist, tasting the expanse of her stomach. He wanted more, bringing two tips of two fingers down, just under the hem of her shorts—

The bell rang. Terra lunged off of her while she gasped.

“Is that…?” She stayed on his bed, staring at the ceiling in shock. “That can’t be.”

“It’s midnight.” Terra panted, sitting next to her and wiping his neck of sweat.

“No, no, no. How did time pass that quickly?” She stood up and paced.

When you’re having fun. Terra smirked.

“Master Xehanort arrives early in the morning,” she said, pacing. “We need a full night’s sleep.” Pacing. “What are we going to do?” Pacing. “How am I supposed to sleep like this?”

“You could stay.”

She hid her face in her hands. “Is… is that a good idea?” she said in a way that told him she wanted exactly that.

“No.” Unfortunately. “It’s a terrible idea.” And it ached him to say so. If she stayed with him, they would spend all night learning each other.

Aqua groaned. She looked up as he giggled. “Don’t tell me it will be easy for you to fall asleep.”

With the yearning between his legs, absolutely not. “Come on. I’ll make us some tea.”

“Thank you.” She turned to open the door, then glanced back at him. She blushed. “Put your shirt back on.”

Lanterns lit up the castle as they headed toward the kitchen. They cast shadows in star shapes over the ceilings, and drew off color from the stained glass like paint across the floor. They served as guides, so no one got lost in the dark.

Terra wanted the void gone, so he offered his hand. Aqua took it.

They kept the kitchen dark as if to hide their secret. Terra heated the kettle with a Fire spell, and seeped lavender, chamomile, and essence of black dragons. Aqua leaned against the island as she took a mug. Terra opposite of her, against the counter.

Now it was awkward to bring up a normal conversation. Aqua sighed after taking a sip, relaxing.

“I’m glad it helped,” Terra said, not sure what else to say.

Aqua watched the steam. “I’m sorry.”

Terra shrugged a shoulder and sipped his own. Too hot, and he let it burn his tongue. It slapped all the tension in his body away. “I’m not.”

Aqua laughed, then covered her mouth. Stars, why was she so cute? “If I’m being honest, I’m not either.”

Terra’s cheeks heated, but not from the tea. “Tomorrow?”

Aqua hid her smile behind the mug. “We’ll be Masters tomorrow. We’ll probably be sent on separate missions.”

Terra’s heart jumped. Most times, when she believed in him as her equal, Terra simmered through reasons why that wasn’t the case. Tonight, his heart jumped like it was trying to soar out of his esophagus. Sometimes, Aqua made him feel so capable. They would be Masters tomorrow, together.

“So? Masters have to sleep. There are plenty of inns around.” He tapped the lip of his mug. “We need our own hiding place.”

It sounded childish—no, innocent, young, hopeful—to say it. Hiding behind a foreign door, with closed curtains, for an hour or two.

Aqua looked at him with a grin in her eyes. Even in the dark, hidden in shadows, he saw their Light. She nodded, biting her lip, and Terra’s heart did, in fact, soar. “Our own hiding place.”

They kissed to seal the promise outside her bedroom door, and she tasted like herbs.

He brought their enclasped hands to his heart.

“Good luck to the both of us,” she whispered.

“We got this.”

She nodded. “We got this.”

Terra went to bed too excited. In the morning, they would have to play it formal, rehearse their bows to each other before their duel. The Mark of Mastery. His first official mission. Aqua’s touch and his scheduled alone time with her, tucked away somewhere, in a new bed. They would be by themselves and be themselves without reminders of the roles they had to play.

Tomorrow was going to be a huge day. The stars knew it. Terra prayed for a blessing so bright, there would be no shadows.

~*~

In Master Eraqus’s study, in the deep dark since all the lanterns have been snuffed out of their inner glow, with only the light from the fireplace to help him see, Terra lays Stormfall across the coffee table.

The castle groans and shifts, sounding like it’s about to rupture. Terra holds his breath and listens. How is he going to survive the fall with no Keyblade to shield him, and no glider to escape? Ven would have to be the one to come rescue him, but what if he doesn’t have the time to get here?

Aqua would step in. Right?

Xehanort once talked about death. Years ago, to Terra, or maybe Terra is misremembering it as a dream. Death, Xehanort had said, is one step below transcending into Kingdom Hearts. It robs you of the chance. That’s why Darkness exists.

The castle creaks again. Fear is the kind of emotion that slows down time, and with every crawling minute, Terra’s heart jerks. Finally, the castle simmers, and Terra lets out his relief.

Deliberately, Terra makes his way to the cauldron (if he stomps too hard, he’s sure the castle will cave in). He’s thrown all he can into the pot: Curaga, potions, mana, and a homemade elixir blended together. Once the rag he dips is soaked, he sits back at the loveseat and lifts Stormfall by the hilt. Stormfall bears no scratches—a testament to Aqua’s strength, and more importantly, her faith, despite it all.

Either way, Terra buffers the blade, gently. He imagines she can feel this right now—his concern, his apology, that his makeshift bed is lonely. How are you? Let me help you. Drink this, it will help make you feel better. No, I don’t mean it like that, but that you feel healthy.

Stormfall stirs, grateful for the care. Maybe that means Aqua is, too, grateful that he’s thinking about her. If it’s any consolation, with the way Stormfall pines like a child nesting in a blanket, it feels like Aqua needs the medicine.

Terra doesn’t know why dread suddenly strikes his chest—or maybe he does, and he doesn’t want to say it out loud yet. Stormfall drops into a dim existence, like there are shadows of his mistakes infecting it. There is resistance, a silent tear, the shake of a head, and fleeing with lesions still open.

“No. Please, don’t leave me,” he says, and brings the hilt to his forehead.

Stormfall says something, but Terra can’t translate it. He embraces it to his chest.

Something about needing a home…

“I’m your home,” he says too quickly, and wonders if Aqua rejects the thought. “And you’re mine. My home is with you.”

Stormfall agrees. Take me home, it says. Home is… somewhere.

Stormfall stirs. Aqua cries so much without crying at all.

“I’ll build one for you,” he whispers. He wills that comfort to Stormfall. That he will be her boulder, that he will make a safe place, that he wants to be a safe place, and hopes he is.

You are, someone else’s conviction says. A good heart.

Stormfall sighs—it’s long and deep, like a final breath, and Terra crushes it closer as if to resuscitate it, but it dissipates. He’s about to yell when he realizes its brightness, and the embrace and solace that caresses over his chest.

His heart. Stormfall has entered his heart and now asks him to wield it. Terra hugs himself and feels it settle into comfort, like it needs a secure place to sleep. Stormfall has chosen him as a refuge.

Maybe that means—

Something shuffles outside the study.

“Ven?”

Nothing.

“Ven? Can you hear me?”

No sound.

It has to be Aqua. Terra pokes his head out of the doorway, and turns down the hall.

The hall is pitch black, but something is off. There is a spot that feels cold, that’s darker, a smear so deep, it absorbs the faded moonlight. It takes time for Terra’s eyes to adjust to nothing.

It takes time, until he nearly runs into it, for Terra’s eyes to adjust to the fact there’s a shadow in his way.

The shadow opens its eyes. Two round, golden moons, glowing.

“Aqua?”

She blinks at him and glares. A primal rage, a rabid animal. She’s about to strike.

Stormfall didn’t tell him Aqua was this livid, so what’s going on? Is that what’s upsetting her? Stormfall choosing him now?

“I’m holding onto it for the time being,” he says. Aqua says nothing in return. “That’s all.” She says nothing. What remains is this overwhelming feeling that his heart is too exposed. Danger. Cold. Run. He almost calls Stormfall to help him. Almost bows his head to show his respect. Almost exposes the weakest spots on his body, his neck, his stomach, like an animal who knows they’re about to die, to deem himself a non-threat.

This is strange. This is not Aqua. Stormfall isn’t saying anything, and there’s no sense of anything to this thing either. Like an illusion.

Terra reaches out and the eyes disappear.

“Aqua?”

Something is wrong. Terra heads down the hall, when Stormfall says, Don’t.

How? What do you mean by, Don't? Terra catches himself at the wall and slides all the way down, burying his face into his lap. He needs to go to her room and check in on her.

But Stormfall says, Don't, burning hot like it's on fire.

Maybe that’s a sign he should give her space. He doesn’t want to push Aqua any further away, so he’ll take it as: she forgives him about Stormfall, and will talk to him about it when she’s ready.

Back in the study, he keeps the flames breathing, and settles onto the blankets on the floor. He’s brought Xehanort’s pillow with him. He shouldn’t have, but there’s a tug at his heart for it. Familiar feels safer, after all. Xehanort’s journals are on the Master’s desk, too, mostly read. Terra has tried again to see if there is a different approach he can attempt with Aqua, but there’s nothing. Up until the formation of a Heartless and a Nobody, Xehanort didn’t seem aware the Guardian was with him.

Xehanort didn’t know. Master Eraqus was wrong. The Master of Masters would have lied.

All Terra can do now is sleep. In the morning, he’ll think of something. He can’t make any breakfast in the kitchen, so maybe he should take her out somewhere. Find a hiding place together like they promised. Show her that she doesn’t scare him, and that yes, he does and truly wants her happy.

He toys with frays from the carpet, and listens to the wind howling. Enough time passes, and it rains. Enough time passes, and he nods off.

He jerks awake. The fire in the hearth is still alive, but someone is behind him. He turns over his shoulder. Aqua, with glowing eyes, sits on the loveseat, watching him sleep. The light from the fire casts her in sharp shadows, as if she’s not solid.

“You’re driving me crazy,” Terra says, his voice grainy from exhaustion.

“I can’t sleep,” she whispers.

Eager to ease that discomfort, Terra reaches out for her knee. “Stay with me.” He squeezes. “Or maybe we can go to your room.”

“It’s hard to be in my room,” she whispers.

Terra sits up and rests his head on her lap. “Then stay.” She’s freezing through her smokey stockings, and without thinking about it, he kisses her thigh. “Stay.” Kiss. “I can’t watch you walk away anymore.” Kiss. Inhales a sob. “I can’t let go, Aqua. You can’t ask that of me.”

She says nothing, placing a claw on his head.

“Terra!”

Ven’s cry jostles Terra. He finds himself resting his head on nothing but the loveseat cushion. Another illusion, and he was too tired to notice the difference.

Ven clutches a portable lantern to his face. “Fuck, Terra, she’s gone.”

Terra’s heart drops to his stomach. “Where?”

Ven shakes. “Through my mirror.”

Terra storms out of the study, following Ven’s lantern as it sways and jerks from his running. It’s not bright enough to warn them about the chasms on the way, and Ven nearly tumbles down before Terra catches him by the collar.

By the time they get to the residential wing, there is no movement or any feeling of life. Ven’s mirror is no longer facing the wall, and what it shows is not the reflection of Ven’s open bedroom, but a sky of incomplete stars on mismatched skies, as if pictures have been torn apart and then glued together in all the wrong places.

Is this it? A Door to Darkness?

“Do we go after her?” Ven asks.

Stormfall is numb. Terra clutches his chest; it feels too similar to losing his body to Xehanort. Aqua is detached from this realm of reality.

“Not us. Light can pass through a Door to Darkness, but it can’t come back through it. One of us has to stay and make our own Door to Light. If we both go in and no one knows, then no one will be there waiting for us when we’re ready.”

“So what do we do?”

Ease her misery. Make her let go of it. She’s forgotten she has the willpower to detach from the Darkness she identifies with, but like how Terra needed Stormfall’s Light to guide his way back, Aqua needs its help, too.

He doesn’t know how to do that without stabbing her... One thing is certain: the Darkness can’t have her. Maybe Stormfall will know how to detangle Aqua from the web. After all, Stormfall can’t betray Aqua.

Right?

Either way, she can’t be alone, and Ven can’t sink with her, either.

Terra holds Ven’s shoulder. “I want you to wait here for us. You’ll keep that door open.”

“But…” Ven holds his lantern up to see if Terra is serious. “You don’t have Earthshaker.”

“Stormfall will guide me.”

“That’s not the same.”

“It’s better than nothing.”

“But you have no armor either!”

“Aqua didn’t…” Terra stops there. That isn’t a fair argument to make, willing to be without protection while Aqua didn’t have a choice. “Darkness is a step closer to Kingdom Hearts, Ven.”

“Good for Darkness, but who the fuck cares?”

Terra rubs Ven’s hair. “It’s a different existence, Ven. I don’t have to be afraid of it.”

Ven hangs his head. Drops of tears hit the floor. “Everything is a competition with you two,” he says, his voice cracking. “Let’s see who suffers more.”

“Stormfall’s Light guided me home,” Terra continues, while Ven wipes his stuffy nose. “She needs Stormfall now.” Terra smiles. “You’re the most important part. You have to keep that Door open for us, or else we can’t come back.”

Ven stares at the floor. “Are you coming back?”

“Of course.”

“You’ll be changed, won’t you?”

Terra brings Ven in for a hug, this boy he’s considered as the younger brother he’s always wanted. “No,” he lies, “Aqua won’t let that happen.”

Ven sniffs. “The castle is falling.”

“You can open a Door to Light anywhere, Ven.”

But Ven suspects. He sees it on Terra’s face. “How will I know when you’re ready?” he asks, defeated, but brave. He’ll be okay. He has Wayward Wind.

Terra taps a finger on Ven’s chest, over his heart. “You know the answer to that already.”

Terra pats Ven head one more time, and faces the mirror.

He scans through the constellations to see if he recognizes any, but they’re too shuffled, some half-cut, others scooped like a crescent moon. Terra touches the surface of the mirror. It gurgles, and his hand sinks.

Stormfall braces itself. Get ready.

That’s the one advantage Terra has in this fight—Stormfall is his compass, so he won’t get lost.

You’re doing the right thing.

Stormfall will be there for him, because Aqua is always there for him.

I will guide you to exactly where you need to be.

But when Terra steps through to the other side, his compass cracks and spins. Aqua doesn’t want to be found. She does. She doesn’t. She does.

She doesn’t.

#terraqua #terraqua week #terraquaweek #kh terra #kh aqua #kh ventus #anti aqua #my fic

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clumsiestgiantess · 2 months ago

Text

Day 3: Stealth

Do y’all remember Jactol, the DNAlien I introduced last October who breathed a bunch of death smoke into a village and traumatized my sona? He’s actually still alive today!

Enjoy this survivor’s account of his antics! (TW: torture & gore)

People have always been afraid of the unusual — unexplained appearances of one thing or another. There are both fact and fiction to their stories. Sometimes the sighting of a ‘chupacabra’ does lead to a very real beast, though it might simply be a wild dog with rabies or mange. Other times, a person really has seen an alien ship — a streak of light and a large dose of alcohol can have you believing you’ve seen just about anything.

What I try to do, along with my friend and colleague, is to separate the facts from fiction. Well, that, and a hope to finally catch a true mythic monster.

Devon told me it was a horrible idea to go hunting for this new elusive creature out in the middle of Africa. I was so sure that the stories about it were fantastically blown out of proportion; they were all so drastically different. One man said it looked like a giant saber-toothed hyena he’d witnessed stalking the open plains at dusk. Another said it was a beastial dragon-like creature that hid in a cave and nearly dragged him inside. Multiple people were claiming it was a monster from local folklore known as the Mngwa. And someone even told me that it was a demon with a thousand mouths scattered all over its body.

In short, no one really knew what the creature looked like, but I was determined to capture it.

Devon and I had heard about the monster while we were on an expedition elsewhere to find an eleged Mokèlé-mbèmbé. It intrigued me, but at the time we thought the stories they spoke of were retellings of myths. We didn’t even have the gear to capture something of that nature. However, we'd overheard someone claiming they'd seen it just last week, and it was all downhill from there. Ever since I'd heard about the monster, demon, Mngwa, or otherwise, I set my sights on its home. It was the one thing all the few witnesses' stories had agreed on. Everyone claimed that the abandoned mining tunnels were the creature's perilous abode.

Me and Devon set out with hunting and camping gear early Wednesday morning. He'd advised me numerous times to think things through. Earlier in our journey he tried to convince me that there was no way the creature was real, but once we found the mining tunnels, he started insisting that the creature was too dangerous for the two of us to handle alone.

"Make up your mind!" I'd snapped at him, annoyed. "First you tell me it doesn't exist, then you say it's far too dangerous for us? Pick an argument!" Either way, I wish I'd listened to him.

Once we ventured into the mineshaft, it became clear that something was amiss. The only way you could tell the tunnels of rock had been used for mining was the distinct chiseled shape of the walls. Everything else, the rails, supports, machinery, tools, were all torn out. Their remains scattered throughout the tall grass by the entrance. At the end of the long, snaking trail of blasted rock, we entered a vast cavern.

Lifting up my lantern brought chills down my spine, and not because of the freezing air that sat stagnant in the cave. The floor and ceiling were littered with sharp stalactites and stalagmites. Rock dropped steeply downward into inky blackness right in front of us. So far were the reaches of the cavern that both my and Devon’s lanterns together couldn't brighten it enough to see the ending. Both the jagged rock formations and endless pitch dark abyss yawning in front of us combined made the cave seem like the hungry jaws of the earth itself had opened up to swallow us whole.

Persistent in my venture, I continued on. But I must admit, at that point even I was feeling a bit unnerved. Surprisingly, the descent into the darkness below was relatively easy. The drop down was a rocky decline rather than a sheer cliff edge. It was a steep slope, but nothing worth pulling out a rope and harness for. Together, we clambered down the rock face.

For a while, it was easy going — methodic and almost calming with the slight drip of water. Judging by the echo of water droplets, it seemed as though they were hitting another body of water rather than a stone floor. The question of whether the body of water was an underground lake or simple puddle would likely be answered once we reached the bottom. When Devon and I finally felt a flat surface beneath our feet, we took a break to briefly rest. As it turned out, there was a pool of water at the bottom — a completely circular hole about ten feet wide. Its depth we couldn't measure, even by sticking our longest hiking stick all the way down from the surface.

Energy restored, we pressed deeper into the cavern, which was uncharitably massive. We found one wall and stuck by it. There were less rock formations here, and the dull grayish-brown stone gave way to more of a polished black that only furthered the darkness that enclosed us. No wonder the place had been abandoned for mining once they’d hit this cavern.

As the deafening silence settled in, there came a point where paranoia and claustrophobia emerged alongside it. The echoed sounds of our footsteps paced slower and further between as both of us warily crept along. Devon, and I’ll admit myself, too, became aware of an unnerving sense that we were being watched constantly, but neither of us could see anything in the cavern beyond our lanterns. Perhaps we were just a bit anxious that we hadn’t found anything. That’s what I convinced myself it was, anyway.

Devon, who was behind me, called out that it was getting to be around sunset outside, and that we should really think of heading back. The only monster here was the suffocating darkness. At last, I gave in. Who knew how much further the cavern was? Even if we did reach the end to confirm the monster's non-existence, we'd still have to hike all the way back out. I turned around, defeated, raising my lantern to tell Devon he was right. A single syllable escaped my lips before I noticed something in the darkness behind him. Two reflective eyes shone back at me over his head.

My heart nearly burst in a bloody pop. Seconds later my lantern hit the floor with a reverberating shatter. I barely had time to fight through the sickening terror that ravaged my insides before Devon’s legs were thrown from beneath him. His lantern hit the floor and flickered just long enough for me to watch him get dragged backwards into the darkness — shrieking and screaming in an ugly way that I’d never heard from another human being before. Then the cave was flooded with darkness.

I followed the awful noise with a sharp pang of terror in my chest, hunting rifle in hand. Blindly, I scrambled over the rocky floor, following his voice the best I could, though it was increasingly harder the more echoed it became. An eerily human-sounding laugh roared through the chasm, drowning out my friend's cries. I could see now why one of the eyewitnesses said the creature was a large hyena, though that laugh could more easily be mistaken for a person’s.

Struggling for a better view, I remembered the flare gun in my pack. I desperately dug it out — feeling around for the handle of the gun — and fired it deep into the cavern. Hazy red light hung in the air, illuminating the monster, silhouetted by the flare's brilliant red glow.

In ways, it did resemble a hyena. Its body shape was similar, and it had a mane of long fur growing from the top of its head all the way down its back, though the shape of its head was much wider. But the rest of it took a more bizarre appearance. I recognized where many of the eyewitnesses had taken their accounts from. Though it had a mane of thick fur down its back, the rest of it had bare skin, and jutting from its top jaw was a pair of terrifyingly saber-toothed incisors. Leech-like suckers pulsed open and closed at random along the creature's back. Most horrifying of all: it spoke in strange tongues with a deep, gravely voice that echoed around the cave, seemingly taunting my partner. My conclusion: the lady who'd told me it was a demon was right.

The unholy creature dangled Devon by the arms in one massive hand-structured paw — standing on its hind legs despite its body structure clearly indicating it was meant to stand on four legs rather than two. Upright like that, the whole creature stood at about fifteen feet tall. Its appendages were a mixture of lizard-like fingers and paw-like claws, gripping a desperately squirming Devon.

The creature's reflective eyes flicked to me. Its face scrunched up almost like a person's would when they find something absurd. Then it let out another wooping laugh and poked my partner roughly in the chest, amusedly speaking its otherworldly language. Devon only shrunk in on himself and begged desperately to be released, which only made the creature laugh again. In fact, it looked ecstatically overjoyed at his reaction. In a moment of blind rage, I aimed my shotgun at it and yelled: "HEY! YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY!? LET HIM GO RIGHT NOW BEFORE I BLOW A HOLE THROUGH YOUR SKULL!"

A toothy grin stretched across its muzzle, revealing the full length of its gigantic saber teeth. Devon suddenly started shrieking even louder, and I could see the creature's grip tighten around his wrists — wicked claws sinking into and through his arms. Cocking my shotgun, I aimed right at the thing's skull and fired. It simply raced away into the growing darkness, ducking away from the bullets. The flare was going out.

With shaking hands, I began reloading another two shells when I heard a sickening cry. I looked up just in time to watch the creature thrust Devon into its mouth and bite down. Organs and intestines burst from his stomach under the pressure of the monster’s bite. Quickly, I turned away to keep myself from vomiting. Devon kept shrieking, even with all his innards now hanging on the outside of his body. I kept my eyes down, finished reloading my shotgun, and flung it back up to aim again. Through the sight of the gun, I watched the evil thing pull him out of its mouth and bite down over Devon’s insides — tearing them out and swallowing them almost in relish as it waited for his body to go limp.

Stomach queasy and head fuzzy with desperate anger, I fired off the round I'd loaded and raced towards the cave entrance. The monster didn't even seem to care; it continued with whatever it was doing. Echoes of bones snapping under pressure and flesh being ripped from cartilage and muscle followed me as I scrambled up the slope of rock. Within a few feet of the top, the terrible sounds ended in a loud silence. I froze, clinging to the rocks in a cold sweat. It was as if the whole world stopped moving.

A boisterous laugh suddenly ricocheted loudly from seemingly everywhere at once. Flinching a few feet into the air, I took off in a mad dash for the exit, heartbeat pounding in my ears at the sound of claws scrabbling over rock. I was so sure I could make it out — live to tell the tale and get justice for Devon. I was almost halfway through the mining tunnel when a blast of air hit me from behind, knocking me over. Only it wasn't air. A cloudy, dried-blood-colored gas swept through the tunnel in a billowing wave.

I tried my hardest not to breathe it in, but I was already panting from exhaustion and couldn't stop myself from gulping down a few breaths of air. Immediately, my head started to spin like I was about to pass out. I gasped, desperately taking in as much air as I could hold into my lungs, but it was as if I'd never even taken a breath. It felt like drowning without water. The more strange gas I inhaled, the less I could breathe.

Tears streamed down my face by the time I found the tunnel entrance. I clawed my way across the stone floor, vision swimming and rapidly going dark. Barely a foot from sunlight, heavy weight fell down on my legs and I cried out in agony. The sound of bones snapping filled the air once again. This time, it was my own bones breaking — legs snapping in two as the monster stepped on them. I writhed with pain as I was dragged backwards into the tunnel, never to see the world again.

Oh, I survived. How else would you be reading this? The monster kept me laying in agony for what seemed like days. Every time I tried to crawl my way to anywhere, it would throw me backwards against the wall. The space was so dark I didn’t even realize I’d lost my vision at some point. Every time I’d cry out in pain it would snicker, and whenever I begged for it to release me — eventually I began begging for it to kill me — it would whisper something to me in a language I’d never heard, and I’ve been to quite a lot of places.

I had only water to survive off of. It splashed whatever strange mineral-filled water at me from that deep pool if I begged enough times for it, and I’d hold my mouth open in hopes I could catch some of it from where I was. If I tried to move, it would throw me against the wall again.

For some indescribable amount of time I was kept there. If the monster truly was watching me the whole time, I don’t know. I didn’t test moving myself to find out, though. Just in case it was.

Eventually, finally, I was dragged to a place where I could feel the dirt beneath me, and was left there. It was only then I realized I was blind. The monster probably wanted to watch the wildlife tear my unmoving body apart, but thankfully a group traveling by car to document that very wildlife spotted me before the actual hyenas did.

#Do NOT go into strange caves searching for monsters y'all #You may just come across a DNAlien with a hatred for humans and a passion for torture #I told y’all the horror was coming #DNAilens universe #horror #tw gore #tw torture #promptober/inktober 2024

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