#but this time THEY were the food because unlike when the wolf ate me I am possessed of more than the clothes I spawned with | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

braveclementine · 5 months ago

Text

Family Loyalty vs Secrets

Warnings: None

Copyright: I do not own any Twilight characters or locations. I do own Davina Mikelson and Marcel. I also own the backstory for my OC. I do not condone any copying of this.

Davina P.O.V.

"That smells wonderful mom." Jared said, inhaling as I brought the large crockpot that was filled with stew into Emily's house.

"I just hope it tastes good." I admitted, "I didn't have it cook as long since I was in a rush."

"I'm sure it'll taste great!" Seth said excitedly.

"Well hey Seth. I never see you around!" I said excitedly, giving him a huge hug. He was still small despite becoming a wolf, probably because he was still rather young, only fifteen.

"Sam makes him stay home and keep his nose in the books." Paul said with a grin.

"Say, where is Sam?" I asked, looking around. Everyone was here, even Leah who didn't like me much, but Sam was nowhere to be seen.

"He'll be back." Leah grunted.

"Great!" I said, trying to stay excited with Leah's blatant hostility. Unlike the boys, she had been hard set against my mother presence in the group. Even more so once she realized that Carlisle and I were together again. At least my boys respected it.

Seth was easily my favorite with Jared, Embry, and Paul following close behind. Well, I mean, Sam was my brother so he wasn't counted in it. Quil and Leah were lower, though I still cared for them.

Jared had imprinted on a girl named Kim so he wasn't around as much, but he was here today and I was glad to see him.

Emily had made bread rolls to go with the stew.

"Hey Davina. Emily." Sam said, walking in. He touched my shoulder briefly, kissing Emily, and Leah turned her back on them. I knew Sam felt absolutely horrible and things were terrible for the wolves when they and Leah shared minds. "Do you have any interesting news we might care about?"

"Eh." I said with a slight shrug, grabbing large bowls to serve the stew in. "We're just keeping an eye on Seattle. But that's about it."

"Why? What's going on in Seattle?" Jared asked.

"Not sure." I said with a slight frown. "Carlisle thinks they're vampires causing the havoc. But. . . at the same time, it could be a human. But if things get worse they'll go to Seattle to check it out."

"They'll kill the other vampires?" Leah asked skeptically, almost scoffing at me.

"Well, yeah. The Cullens care about human life Leah." I murmured softly. "Anyways, anything new on Victoria?"

Half of them snorted whenever I gave vampires their names. "Nothing." Quil said.

Emily and I dished out food, and as custom, the two of us ate against the counters while the boys- and now one girl- ate heavily at the table.

I was lost in thought, staring out the window. I would have to go back to Kentucky soon, visit the graves. I was only allowed in once a year with two military escorts. Mostly for my protection. I sighed heavily, pushing the uneaten stew away.

I didn't really want to go, but I knew that if I didn't go and mourn my parents in the public, everyone would wonder why the 'innocent' daughter wasn't at the grave on the anniversary of their deaths.

All of the deaths.

"Davina?" Sam asked quietly and I found him standing behind me, "Are you alright?"

I looked at him blankly and then said, "Yeah, yeah I-"

My phone rang. Assuming it was Carlisle or one of my vampire kids, I picked up the phone, "Hello?"

"Ah, Miss Michaelson, it's good to hear you."

"Oh." I muttered, "What the hell do you want?"

The wolves all turned to look at me in interest.

"You could be nicer."

"What. Do. You. Want?"

"I was making sure that you are still coming down for the anniversary?"

I gritted my teeth, regretting not checking caller ID before picking up the phone. "Of course I'm coming. Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"I don't need the sarcasm Miss Michaelson."

"And I didn't need the reminder Officer Malone." I snarked. "Let me guess, I'm not allowed to come by plane either?"

"We can have a military plane pick you up if you'd prefer."

"No thanks, I'll drive." I muttered.

"We have a hotel booked-"

"I can book my own damn hotel."

"You know, we are trying to help you."

I snorted, "I don't need your help. I don't want your help. And I'm not going to use your help. I'll drive my own car and I'll book my own hotel. I'll buy my own flowers for the gravesite and I don't need your escorts either I can take care of myself. "

"The escorts aren't just there for your protection, might I remind you."

"I'm not going to blow anything up." I snapped.

"And we'll be checking you for weapons. Have a nice night."

The line went dead.

"What was that about?" Sam asked.

I rubbed my temple. "It was nothing. I'm going home."

"What gravesite?" Sam asked, not giving up.

"It doesn't matter." I said, throwing my hands up in the air.

Sam stepped in front of me, blocking the door. "What aren't you telling me?"

"It. Doesn't. Matter." I snarled.

The entire house was silent. Sam and I were staring each other down. "Will you at least tell me where you're going?" Sam finally asked.

"Kentucky." I muttered and then pushed past him and went home.

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

"Why are you going to Kentucky?" Edward asked.

I froze up, spinning on him, "I'm not!"

Edward was confused while the rest of the Cullens and Bella stared at me. Carlisle looked between me and Edward.

"But. . . I thought. . ." Edward frowned. "You're thinking about how you're going to drive yourself to Kentucky."

I flushed, really hating Edward's superpower at the moment. It was my own fault for thinking about Kentucky.

"It doesn't matter." I mumbled, turning back to the bookshelf. "An old. . . acquaintance called. There's an anniversary of sorts at Fort Knox coming up next week. He wanted to see if I was going to be there."

"He?" Carlisle almost growled the world, appearing behind me suddenly, wrapping his arms around my waist tightly. Despite my difficulties, I smiled at his protectiveness, turning my head to kiss his cheek.

"More like hated enemy. You don't have to worry." I said with a small smile. Carlisle relaxed a little, resting his chin on my shoulder.

"What's the anniversary for?" Jasper asked, interested. I should've known he would be interested, being a past war veteran himself.

"Ah. . . not a good one." I admitted softly. I flinched, remembering when the bombs went off.

"You saw-"

"Edward, please stop talking." I replied sharply, shrugging out of Carlisle's embrace. "I have to go."

"Dav-"

I rushed out the door, letting it close softly behind me and headed home.

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

I prepared for the trip with a heavy heart. I hadn't gone to see either the werewolves or the vampires ever since they had found out about Kentucky. Just knowing that they knew about anything at all was scary, making my heart pump, my skin go cold and clammy, and I had to start thinking of other things in order to get the hyperventilation under control.

I knew this trip was going to be detrimental to my health. I was going to go there, see all. . .

No.

Stop thinking.

I packed four changes of clothes. I would be driving nonstop and I wasn't going to stay there more than I was 'required'.

I stuffed a bunch of money in one of the secret pockets and in another pocket I made sure I had my lucky lighter.

I didn't even bother packing my handgun or pocket knife because that would just end up with them getting confiscated. I did pack hair supplies and makeup though. I wanted to make sure I would look good for the press that would be there for sure. Not supermodel good, just decent.

I would never get the headlines to say anything good about me, of course, but I wanted my image to look good. I was the last Michaelson left.

Once Carlisle and I had gotten back together, he had bought me a van. It was one of those soccer mom vans. He had wanted to get me something flashy, wanting to spoil me silly, but I wouldn't let him.

'I just want a van with a CD player.' was what I had told him, 'Black preferably. It's all I need.'

There were decals on the back of the van of course. A moon and a sun. Representing my two families. Werewolves and Vampires.

I thought back to my first day here. How naïve and young I had been. A chipper high school girl with an unknown past. Quoting Harry Potter left and right, wishing vampires and werewolves and witches were real. And now, they were. It was almost like I was a book character or something.

But this was my life.

I loaded my suitcase into the car and then headed back into the house to make sure that I could find music. I wouldn't leave for another day or two, but I wanted everything prepared. I didn't want to be searching for anything last minute.

That was when there was a knock on the door.

Carlisle P.O.V.

I hadn't seen Davina in days. Edward seemed conflicted about something but he wasn't spilling. I paced restless around my study, wondering what could possibly be the problem. I knew there was something in her past- she had flat out told me there was- but she was also not ready to tell me.

I didn't want to force it out of her, but she didn't seem very excited about going to Kentucky. Kentucky, where her parents and brother lived. Had there been a bad falling out? Had she seen someone die? I had no idea. Edward did and he wasn't saying.

"We should go to mom's house like right now." Alice suddenly said out of the blue.

I was in the living room in a second and so was everyone else.

"Why?" Emmett asked curiously.

"Something. . . something I can't see." Alice said, "Which means there's a werewolf involved. . . but I think it's important."

Edward frowned, "I don't know."

"We should go." Jasper said in his slightly southern accented voice. "In case something goes wrong."

'YES LET'S GO' Lord said inside of me. 'PROTECT MATE FROM WEREWOLVES'

'You do realize that the werewolves are also her family?' I asked Lord.

'SO? THEY COULD STILL HURT HER! WE PROTECT MATE!'

I nearly sighed aloud. "Let's go."

We vamped to the forest and then Alice held out a hand. We all looked at her. "I think we should stay here."

"So. . . you want us to eavesdrop?" Esme asked incredulously. Alice nodded.

"We can't." I said firmly.

"We have to." Alice said. "Sam is. . ." She didn't finish off the sentence. I could sense another presence and realized there were two wolves in the forest, opposite us, also listening.

"Just go away Sam!" Davina shouted. She was dressed in a yellow T-shirt and black jeans. She stomped towards her car and Sam stepped in front of her.

Lord growled inside of me but I stayed silent.

"I want you to tell me what's going on Davina." Sam said firmly. "You're hiding something."

"Because if you knew what it was you'd leave!" Davina was nearly screaming. "You'd leave me. Carlisle would leave me! Both of my families would leave me and I would be alone! I can't have that! You can't know!"

Sam grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him. "Davina, I'm not going anywhere. You can tell me. I promise."

Davina stared at him blankly for a second before the tears spilled over her face and she sank to her knees. Sam went with her, kneeling in the grass. Davina rested her head on his legs, sobbing.

Jasper suddenly fell to his knees, clutching his heart.

"Jasper?" Alice asked in concern.

"Her pain. . . the grief." Jasper said, closing his eyes and trying to find a way out of her pain. "It's consuming."

I felt horrible and I went to go towards her, Emmett putting a hand on my shoulder. "Wait." He said deeply.

"Davina?" Sam asked in concern. He was holding her tightly. "Davina please."

"I killed them!" Davina sobbed, "I killed my parents. I killed my brother. I killed 1,348 soldiers, 132 kids, and 564 relatives. I killed 2047 people in one day Sam."

Jasper groaned again, clutching his stomach now.

I was frozen in shock. Davina? Kill people? No.

'If you're damned then there's no hope for me'. Her voice whispered in my ear.

"Davina, you couldn't kill anyone." Sam whispered.

"I did. I did."

Davina P.O.V.

When I was eight, my family and I moved out to Fort Knox, Kentucky. The army base usually wasn't active, more of a memorial for visitors. But with the war in Iraq, they had shut down the tourist attraction and had made it into an actual base.

When I was ten or so, an Iraqi general came to visit. He was a spy for America in the Iraq wars, telling us their plans ahead of time, telling us where ambushes would be and what not.

He had a son and a wife. His sons' name was Azim. I call him Azzy. He called me Quirky.

Between the time when I was eight and ten, I didn't like school on the base. It was rather boring and I particularly hated math.

A lot of times, I skipped out of school. There were so many places to hide on the army base, especially when you were as small as I was. My specialty was playing hide and seek with some of the kids on the base. I nearly always won.

I also liked watching the soldiers train so my objective was to find hiding spots in the buildings so that I could watch them. I saw training maneuvers, obstacle courses, and how to put together guns and bombs.

Mom, in order to curb the insatiable restlessness I had, put me in Tae Kwon Do and gymnastics. With a combination of force and flexibility, I was able to practice some of the army techniques. That hadn't been mom's objective at all, but that's what came out of it.

Dad sometimes laughed, calling me his little princess soldier. I didn't mind, the name was the favorite thing he called me. Mom on the other hand was adamant that I would never go into the army. Specifically the Navy, which is where I wanted to go. I loved the ocean, I loved the idea of being on a boat for long periods of time, and I loved the idea of manning warships.

And I loved the uniforms that the Navy soldiers wore. Pure white and crisp.

I didn't have many friends on the base. There was much Uncle Josh, who was dark skinned, almost looked like a Quileute, and was related, not by blood, just by name. And then, there was a younger solider that I befriended. When I was ten, he was twenty-three. He was African American and his name was Marcel.

So, naturally, we became the best of friends. Davina and Marcel. He was lucky though, he didn't have a horrible last name. Just a simple one: Powell.

Then Azim came along. He was older than me by a few years. And he befriended me right away after he saw me practicing my moves by myself in one of my secret spots.

"How'd you find me?" I asked curiously, staring at the dark skinned boy in front of me. I was wary of him, he was Iraqi after all, and we were at war with them.

"I was looking for a hiding spot." Azim said.

We became friends quickly. I showed him every single hiding place that I knew of, but also forbid him to use it against me in hide and seek. In return, he taught me all about Iraq. Their religion, their cultures, their language, and he also showed me his own hiding places- usually outside the base.

We grew older, went through puberty. We fell in love. Mom was ecstatic and so was Azim's mother. Although, there was a bit of arguing on both sides about the difference of religion. I was a devout Christian, he was a devout Muslim.

His father didn't seem to care, but then again, he was very rarely on base at all. Most of the time, he was flying back and forth between American and Pakistan before sneaking into Iraq. The only problem he really had with me was that I showed to much skin and that I didn't wear a headscarf. Once again, back to religion.

Dad was probably the smartest of all the parents- he didn't approve of it period. He didn't want me with Azim at all. He warned me time and time again not to get to close to Azim. In the end, it cost him his life.

It was a festival day. The war with Iraq- ironically- had been ended. American had won- I honestly don't even know what we fought over. Freeing some other country I think.

People flooded the army base. I had never seen so many people on it. And the amount of children!

The soldiers had set up bouncy houses for us to play in, but of course, I was sixteen, soon to be seventeen, and bouncy castles had no appeal to me or Azim.

He kissed my cheek, a weird look in his eyes and said, "We could round all the kids up and play hide and go seek?"

"Hey! That's a fantastic idea!" I said cheerfully.

We worked together- Azim seemed almost frantic- and then we selected one of the slightly older kids- only fourteen- to be the seeker. The rest of us spread out to hide.

"Hey Marcel! Want to hide with us?" I asked in a giggle. He grinned at me. "Playing a little kids game I see."

I pretended to be offended but Azim was frantic, "Come on."

"It's just a game." I laughed. Marcel was staring Azim up and down curiously before frowning slightly.

I went to head off in a different direction and then Azim grabbed my shoulder, "Come hide with me."

I was surprised, "You want to hide together?"

"Yeah cause, you know, if we hide together, we can have some fun." He winked and my surprise melted.

I giggled like a little girl. "Yeah, okay."

We made our way to the outskirts of the camp. There was almost no one around here, but I'm sure it was a very popular hiding spot. We bunkered down into the hole. Someone could easily look down at us, but they couldn't see us from any side angles.

"Azim!" I laughed, feeling something hard like plastic and metal against my back. "What did you bring?"

"A gadget." Azim said and his voice sounded weird, strained.

I turned to face him and then a little girl came running in. "Can I hide with you guys?"

"Sure." I said, holding out my arms. She just climbed on my lap, snuggling in.

I giggled. I turned to face Azim, "We could have a kid of our own one day."

Azim was rather serious and I thought that was because of the conversation between the two of us. I didn't notice the controller in his hands.

"Davina. . ." Azim trailed off, looking scared. "We can only have a future together if you protect me."

"Protect you?" I asked curiously. "What are you talking about?"

My eyes flitted from his face to the thing he held in his hand.

Suicide bomber, was my first thought.

"Azim!" I screeched, jumping to my feet, holding the girl tightly to my chest. "What are you-"

Azim grabbed my arm, yanking me to my knees. I struggled against him, terrified. "Davina, I have to. Allah told me to. My father told me to."

"No, stop. Azim stop." I screeched.

What I thought was going to happen was he was going to blow himself up. I yanked my wrist out of his grasp, running, going to try and make sure everyone else was okay.

Marcel threw himself on top of me as the bombs went off.

I had thrown myself on the little girl.

The bombs went off, shaking the entire base. Buildings crashed. Screams filled the air. The air filled with dust. Marcel yanked me to my feet, dragging me backwards. Azim had knocked himself out, blood running down his forehead. It was probably to look like he hadn't done it. But I knew it was a self-inflicted wound.

I was sobbing into Marcel's shoulder, refusing to let the little girl go, all I could think about was returning her to her parents.

"What's going on?" I asked, "What did he do?"

Marcel looked at me, pity in his eyes. "Davina, you had no idea."

"No. I don't understand." I sobbed, clutching the little girl tighter. She had started wailing from the loud noises.

Everything settled. Marcel had gotten me out of the base and we were now standing on the slope. Everything was quiet except for the screams of pain. No more fear, just pain. I gripped Marcel's jacket, my tears drying as I tried to figure out what was happening.

And then a second round went off, sending us flying off our feet.

If we had stayed where Azim had brought us, we would've been fine. He had chosen the one spot he would be safe. Nowhere else was safe. I landed harshly on my back, the girl landing on top of me. I still hadn't let her go.

Marcel grunted in pain, but that was it. I screamed, pain exploding in my back and stomach.

"Davina?" Marcel crawled over to me, blood running down his face now. "Davina?"

"M-my back." I whimpered. "Marcel, my back."

The bombs looked like fireworks, sending up bright flares into the sky which- when landing in the grass- started a fires from the recently dry grass.

Alarms were going off in the distance, in the city. Alarms for lockdown, alarms for the firetrucks and ambulances. The police. The back up army- the National Guard. Red Cross. Whoever else was here in Kentucky and could help.

The bomb squad was sent in first while Marcel was trying to help me to my feet.

The little girl had fallen silent, staring at the burning base with wide eyes. I did too, try to figure out what exactly was happening.

And then I gasped, shoving the little girl into Marcels' arms.

"MOM! DADDY!" I screamed, sprinting up the hill, darting back into the base, ignoring Marcels' yells behind me. "MOM! DADDY! KOL!"

I passed Azim's stirring body without a second glance. I darted down the street, passing medics who were trying to figure out if people were still alive, and firefighters who were putting out fires. I guess the bomb squad had either detonated the other bombs or whatever- my brain was thinking straight.

I ran towards where our small home was, shouting their names, stopping when I came to where it used to stand.

It was completely obliterated, worse than some of the other buildings. I could literally smell the burned flesh, staring at the burned body that was my mother. Her hands had been welded to a black burnt thing that looked like the pizza pan. I threw up, vomiting as I turned away from the house.

Where were Dad and Kol?

Dad.

Kol.

Dad.

Kol.

Azim did this.

My fault.

If I hadn't showed him where to hide.

Never would've done it.

My fault.

Dad.

Kol.

My fault.

Kol.

My fault.

Dad.

He did it because of me.

Kol.

He knew I would never marry him with my dad not agreeing.

Dad.

Or maybe this was his father.

Mom.

Uncle Josh!

The bouncy houses were burnt plastic, little kids dead on the ground around it, some of them burnt inside of them.

I vomited again. The smell of fire, burnt plastic, burning flesh and hair, stone, gunpowder, and melted glass was overwhelming, poisonous, intoxicating.

Was there anyone alive in here? Besides the ones who had arrived after?

Besides me and Azim?

Our fault.

"Davina!"

"Dad." I muttered, turning. But it wasn't dad. It was Uncle Josh, his long hair braided down his back.

"Davina, you're alright!" Uncle Josh swooped me off my feet, making me cry out in pain as my back pain made itself known again.

"It's all my fault." I sobbed. "Azim- Azim set off the bombs. And- and it's my fault. Because he used all my hiding spots. It's all my fault. Mommas' dead. I can't find Daddy or Kol. They're dead because of me!"

And that was when I fainted.

I woke up in the hospital. It was a military one, two soldiers outside of my room, waiting to alert a nurse when I had woken up. Once I was well enough to be grilled with questions, I was given a lawyer. Officer Malone was sent in to question me.

Uncle Josh was the only person in the waiting room. He told me the death totals. The people I'd killed.

Uncle Josh and Marcel were my only visitors. Uncle Josh told me the truth about everything, even if it was harsh. Marcel tried sugar coating things, to protect me.

People on the outside hated me. Azim and his father were being tried, as Marcel had informed the army what he had done. However, my closeness with Azim was questioned, even though Marcel had told them that I had had no idea of what was happening.

The trials lasted about six or seven months. It was Azim and his father on trial first. And then it was me vs. Azim and his father, trying to clear my name. The country was divided in half. Half thought I was a poor girl who was getting blamed for things that weren't my fault. It 'helped' that my parents had been victims whereas both of Azim's parents had survive along with himself. My grief was also real and it showed. The other half thought I was faking it and they hated me.

Most of the people who hated me were around me. The relatives of those who had died in the bomb attack, the soldiers who might've been on base, etc.

Azim and his father were later declared guilty and once that happened, they openly admitted to the job. They sold the story to the New York Times, they even made a bit of money off of it. They admitted that his father had been a double spy, working for Iraq only. When Iraq had lost the war, the option was to retaliate by blowing up the bomb. Azim admitted that that was the plan all along and was the only reason that he befriended me. That he never truly loved me. I wasn't sure what hurt more. But had also said that if I had paid attention, I would've been able to stop it. That sent me over the edge. I attempted to kill myself to get rid of the guilt. Marcel was the one who stopped me in the nick of time, tackling me when I went to jump off the sixteen-foot story building.

But, I was declared not guilty. Marcel had advocated for me, saying he had seen it play out as he had been watching us from overhead, teasing that he was going to give our position away in the hide and seek game. The little girl- who was seven and her name was Angel- had told her grandparents how it had played out as well, matching up with Marcels story almost. Her grandparents were thankful I saved her life and stood up for me, letting their granddaughter advocate for me as well. Uncle Josh was also a witness.

However, I had restrictions on me anyways, for advocating with the enemy. For one thing- I couldn't fly to certain countries. I really wasn't supposed to board planes period without the go ahead from the army in the first place. That was the reason for the fake passport and red wig when I went to Italy. I really couldn't bother going through customs while attempting to save Edwards' life.

I hadn't been able to go to school from after the bombs went off to when I turned nineteen. Uncle Josh had grown up in Forks as well- where he and my mom had become friends although he didn't talk much about his life there- and told me Forks was the best place for me to be.

"And that's why I'm here." I finished, speaking to Sam's knees. "Because no one in this town would've known." My body was weak, having run out of tears. Sam's arms were the only thing that kept me from collapsing.

Sam pulled me up tighter to his chest. He was so large, looking more like a grown man than anything else. How was he only twenty-one? Twenty-two? Not wait, I think he was twenty-three. Even Carlisle looked younger than him in some aspects.

"It wasn't your fault." Sam murmured and his comforting words nearly sent another wave of tears through me. "It's not your fault at all."

I clutched the front of his shirt. I knew the entire pack was going to know, I had caught sight of Jared's grey fur in the forest. And I had caught just a glimmer of Rosalie's blond hair in the trees. So everyone knew now.

I shuddered, holding onto Sam's shirt like a life preserver in rough waters. "I. . . I don't want to go back by myself. But-"

"I'll come with you." Sam said firmly. "I'll come with you."

I sobbed.

"I love you Davina. I'm here." Sam kissed the top of my head and then whispered, "Always."

When I managed to catch my breath I whispered, "Always."

He held me for a long time.

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gameguy20100 · 2 years ago

Text

Cinderella: The Alix Kubdel version.

Summery: Alix has to babysit Manon and read her a bed time story. Who the hell thought this was a good idea?

Alix sat in her room tinkering with a clock, then smiled as it ticked once more. “Not bad for 15 years old.” She said, smiling to herself. Her work was interrupted by a frantic Marinette.

“Alix! Please I need a favour!” She said, dropping to her knees and begging.

“Let me guess. You had plans, but Adrien is free to make kissy faces with. So you need someone to cover for you?”

Marinette nodded, then explained the situation.

“Babysitting?! Are you nuts!?” Alix snapped. “I need an extra shot of coffee to deal with Rose!”

Marinette flashed Alix the “Bambi eyes.” And she caved almost immediately.

(Manons house.)

The actual babysitting was bearable. Alix just sat the kid in front of the tv and had headphones on. The trouble started when Manon had to go to bed.

“Read me a story.” Manon demanded and shoved a book into Alix’s hands.

“Uh! Fine!” Alix snarled and picked a random page. “Once upon a time, there was a girl named red riding hood. The wolf ate her, the end.”

“That’s not how it goes!” Manon replied and huffed. “Tell it right. I want Cinderella.”

Alix face palmed and sighed, “OK, FINE!”

(Story book.)

Once upon a time, there lived a baker and his wife. They were so sickly sweet they gave everyone diabetes and not from the cookies.

Because this was before TV existed they soon had a baby girl they named Marinette, I mean Cinderella. The wife soon died after the birth because nobody knew how female anatomy worked due to the medical field consisting of nothing but old white men.

The baker was forced to marry a colossal bitch for the money, and was nagged to death.

“Oh crumbs! Why do protagonists parents always die in fairy-tales?” Said the stout man who was too likeable to survive.

Cinderella grew up abused by the evil stepmother and her two equally bitchy daughters. Chloe and Lila, I mean. you know what? I can’t be bothered to give them names.

“Ridiculous! Utterly Ridiculous!” Said the stepmother as the poor girl washed the floor for the third time that day.

“I didn’t make it dirty again.” Said the elder daughter who 100% did do that. The lying bitch.

One day when Cinderella was fetching the post, she came across a strange letter.

“To all single women in my Kingdom. I the king don’t understand my son in the slightest. And now that he’s 18 he has to get married and create an heir for the Throne, because I said so. There's going to be a ball. Look pretty and don’t annoy me.”

Now, the stepmother forbade Cinderella from going, but the sisters decided to be extra bitchy and told her she could go, then humiliated her and ruined her dress that she made herself.

“Wait, wasn’t it made by her animal friends?” Manon asked, interrupting the story.”

“Mice and birds can’t sew!” Alix snapped in reply. “Now stop interrupting!”

Anyway. As Cinderella cried her eyes out she was visited by a small bug like creature that granted wishes.

“Hi. I’m the plot. Now clean yourself up bitch.” Said The Kwami godmother.

Now in a beautiful but practical dress She went to the ball to meet the prince.

(Palace.)

Now, unlike his father. The prince was an attractive and kind young man with green eyes and blonde hair. But as a royal he was very restless and hated politics.

“I hate being a royal.” Said the prince, bored. “What’s the point of being rich if I can’t chew my food without permission?”

Now at the ball prince Adrien was forced to talk to multiple princesses. but they were all boring.

“HI, have no personality.” Said a blonde woman I won’t name.

Uninterested.

“Sorry, I’m a lesbian.” Said Princess Juleka.

Or way too young. I mean honestly she’s 8 you creepy old man!

“Yeah, no.” Said the prince because he wasn’t a creep.

Then the prince found Cinderella, and they hit it off instantly. They talked, danced, and just had fun until the clock struck midnight and the magic wore off.

"Oh, come on!" Cinderalla snapped as her dress vanished. Annoyed at the Kwami being a flaky cow.

The Prince declared that he would find and marry this wonderful girl. The Kings suggested putting out a hunt using the glass sliper she left behind. The captain of the guard had a much simpler idea.

"Or I could escort him around the kingdom, and he can remember her face." She said bluntly.

"That would be better." Said the Prince. "Thank you, Knight Tsurugi."

It didn't take long. Since there were almost no other asian people in this white arse kingdom.

Once they found her, the Prince and Cinderella recognised each other instantly because they're not idiots and they soon married and lived happily ever after. The end.

Happy? I don’t care. Now go to sleep!

#miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #alix kubdel #Ml manon #Cinderella

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cheesecakethots · 2 years ago

Note

Hi, I came to expand that obey me barbarian au

The reason why the brothers came for MC is because they meet them during their childhood. Little MC was playing at the outskirts of their village when they heard a pained cry, they investigated and found little Mammon with injuries. Little Mammon was wary on the stranger but little MC managed to heal his wound, once he was healed he stood up and ran.

The next day MC came back to see if that strange boy was there, sure enough he was with two others, Little Lucifer and and Levi stared warily at them while Mammon gave them a small gift while blushing and looking away. MC happily accepted, Mammon and MC played for a bit followed by Levi then Lucifer.

The next day there was no Mammon but Little Satan and Asmo, they were collecting items when they saw MC, they must have knew who they were cause Asmo waved to them excitedly. They ended up making flower crowns and petting cats that came to them.

The next day MC brought with them food and found Little Beel and Belphie, they and Beel played while little Belphie just watched them, after that Mc and Beel ate while Belphie used their laps as a bed.

The next day MC came none of them was there, they waited until they heard their name calling, maybe they'll come the next day. But it was the same thing, they kept on waiting and waiting until they stopped coming. It made them sad, maybe their new friends got tired of them.

But it wasn't, their tribe had to move because of settlement disputes in MC's village, but the brothers promised one day, they'll burn that insufferable village to the ground and claimed their future lover back.

their love for you starts out as innocent - a puppy crush if anything. one that could cause no harm to anyone, especially not you.

watching you go about your day, whether you knew about it or not, was the more interesting activity for the young barbarian boys.

even lucifier, the one who seemed the most obsessed with the constant training and massacres taught to them all by their tribe leaders, had to admit that seeing you even for just a second felt more worthwhile of his time.

that was until diavolo, their current tribe leader and older brother, found out about their visits to you.

as time moves on, said visits become less lengthy and less frequent, until eventually they just stop showing up at all.

you, of course, mourn the loss of your new found friends, but as you grow older you forget the memories you formed with them.

unlike you, they don’t forget.

puppy crushes evolve… almost into sort of wolf-ish obsessions.

they don’t forget the gentle smiles you would share to them, in contrast to the crooked and evil grins they faced from those around them, or even the glares from the others in your village.

they don’t forget having to be dragged from their home; you.

they don’t forget the promises they all made, to find and love and cherish you as soon as they reach of age.

you would do wise to remember, as soon you’ll realise that no amount of distance, no army, and no begging can stop them from getting what they want;

you.

#this is kinda trash writing for me so maybe i’ll edit it later #tw yandere #tw.yandere #yandere #yanderecore #yandere obey me #yandere lucifer #yandere beelzebub #yandere mammon #yandere asmo #yandere asmodeus #yandere leviathan #yandere satan #.barbarian au #also thank u for the expansion me likey 👍#.asks

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a-n-conrad · 3 years ago

Text

Pet (Karl Heisenberg x Reader)

[Summary: After being gifted to Heisenberg, you manage to survive his games. From there you start to develop an interesting relationship. And as you start to play the role of his pet, things get a bit interesting. (She/Her pronouns)

Warnings: SMUT, unhealthy relationship dynamics, Author belongs in horny jail, Reader has “female” anatomy, themes of pet play, swearing, biting (Blood), reader is losing her sanity a bit, spanking, oral (both receiving), hair pulling, unprotected penetrative (vaginal) sex

Request: Literally, not a single person asked for this. You only have me to blame.]

You felt a bit foolish, being in the situation you were in. You had been one of the people gifted to the “Lords” of the village to do with as they pleased by Mother Miranda. You had to admit, when you were frightened, even more so when you were handed over to the infamous “mad wolf-man”. He had quite the reputation. But unlike the others, you had proven yourself useful enough for him to keep you around, instead of experimenting on you or feeding you to his lycans.

You survived at first by staying out of his way. It was like a game to him. Heisenberg liked games, and you adapted to them rather quickly. At first, the game was to be the perfect assistant. You’d clean, cook, do minor repairs, and stay out of his way as needed. You were there when he needed you to do something, you’d do it perfectly, and then you’d be out of his sight. And he’d try to catch you slipping up, making you nervous with whispered promises of the punishments that awaited you if you did.

It was an odd dance, having to learn the ins and outs of Heisenberg’s moods. Learning how to tell when he was in a bad mood, and when he was in the mood to joke. And as time went on, it seemed that there were more days when he was in the mood to sit and banter with you. And you started to bond a bit, less as captor and captive, and more as something close to friends, though you wouldn’t necessarily call it friendship.

Eventually, he started to grow a bit fond of you, occasionally joking with you that he had started to see you as a pet. He’d grin a bit as he called you pet names, names that were somewhere between affectionate and demeaning. He’d pat your head, like he was praising a dog, when you did something right. He had even joked about making you a collar to show the rest of the Lords that you were his pet.

You knew you probably should’ve hated it. You should’ve gagged at the idea of a collar, and you should’ve hated his pet names. But you didn’t. You found yourself grinning when he called you a “good girl”. You leaned into his touch when he’d pat your head. You could feel yourself losing your sanity. You had to be insane to feel this way, but as you got to know Heisenberg, you found yourself feeling as though it was worth it.

Karl Heisenberg was an interesting man, and one you had to admit that you were fascinated by. He had a biting form of humor that had become much funnier as you realized you weren’t in the danger that you thought you were, and you could hear the intelligence behind it. His jokes were always at least a little clever, as long as he could keep his head. He was complex, with motivations and actions that didn’t always match. And his emotions were so complicated that you were pretty sure he hadn’t even started sorting through them, choosing to instead deny their existence.

He was a mess of a man. He got mad enough to throw metal scraps of rusted metal around the room when an experiment went wrong. He’d rant for hours about the issues he had with his “family”, having to hold himself back from breaking things when he got to Alcina. He felt as trapped as you did. He thought of letting his appearance go as an act of rebellion. Because of that, he’d go a full week without washing his clothes, letting the blood and oil stain the fabric until it might as well be dye. And he didn’t sleep for days sometimes, choosing instead to stay up all night in his workshop, only leaving when he starts to border on collapsing.

But between his anger issues and dysfunction, you saw something in him that you weren’t sure that even he saw. You saw it in the sparkle in his eyes when he figured out an issue that had been bothering him. You saw it in his sleepy groans when he woke up in the middle of the day after staying up all night before. You saw it in his smirks and smiles as he thought of something clever to say.

He was charming in his own way. Not in the way you thought of charming. He wasn’t elegant like Alcina, but he was warm. He was like a fire. Volatile. Deadly. Beautiful. And warm. And perhaps you were a bit of a pyromaniac, as you found yourself staring into a fire pit, longing to see the damage it could do if you let it free. You wanted to see what Heisenberg could do to you. You wanted to let him.

- - - - -

You were a bit suspicious that you weren’t hiding your feelings very well. Heisenberg was clever, and he was incredibly observant. He needed to be. His “family” didn’t exactly get along with him very well, and knowing what you knew about his “siblings”, they would’ve taken any opportunity possible to kill him and take his place as a favored lord. So he was constantly on his toes. And that meant that you were sure that he had noticed you were acting a bit off recently.

And you were sure that he had figured out exactly what was causing you to act that way, by the way that he teased. There was a glint in his eyes when you started to get flustered that was new to you. The way he smirked at you as he praised you, his hand resting casually on your arm for a few more seconds than before. He had even gone through with his collar joke, though he hadn’t given it to you to wear.

He’d wink at you as he held it in front of you, though. It was a silver chain that was about an inch thick, made into an easily adjusted necklace by the extra bit of chain that hung through the loop. The extra bit of chain that also worked as a built-in leash. He’d hold the collar in front of you, dangling it casually from one of his fingers when you started to get sarcastic with him, making comments about how his “pet” needed to be put in her place. And you’d try your best not to show how much you truly wanted that.

It had become another one of Heisenberg’s games. You could tell that he knew. And he knew that you knew that. So the game became how long you could go without breaking.

“So, kitten,” you jumped a bit as Heisenberg appeared behind you. You were making dinner, and had thought that Heisenberg was still working in his shop. He usually didn’t leave for dinner until you came to get him if he ate dinner with you at all, “You seem a bit spaced out. Care to tell me what you’ve got on your mind?”

You could say what you really wanted to. You could say that you wanted him to rail you until you couldn’t walk. But that would end the game. And Heisenberg only liked to end games if he could win them in a satisfying way.

“Nothing you need to worry about, sir,” You muttered, finishing the food you were cooking and pulling it off of the stove, “Just lost in thought.”

He hummed a bit, noticing how you refused to make eye contact. That wasn’t new, but you weren’t usually so awkward about it, “Come on, pet. I’d like to know if you’re planning your escape or something,” A bit of metal began to dangle in front of your face and you knew exactly what it was, “Honestly, (y/n), I really might have to put this collar on you if you’re going to be keeping secrets.”

“It sounds like you’re just looking for an excuse to put a collar on me, Karl,” You had gotten a bit bold, knowing that the line of how much you could get away with was quite a bit further back, “You can just admit that you’re into that.”

He chuckled a bit, resting the arm that he was holding the collar with on your shoulder and leaning into you just a little bit. You could feel his body heat radiating off of him. You always wondered how he was always so warm, living in this factory, surrounded by the cold metal walls, “I don’t know, pet, you haven’t been protesting quite as much. It seems like you may be coming around to the idea. Maybe you’re projecting a bit.”

He had set his chin on your shoulder by the end of his statement, his breath brushing against the shell of your ear. It had sent a shiver down your spine, and you could tell he felt it by the satisfied hum that passed his lips.

“You’re not arguing with me, kitten,” he purred as you failed to muster up a rebuttal, “Is that what you want? You want me to put the collar on you? Do I need to put my needy little pet in place?”

Fuck. You shifted a little, trying not to make the throbbing between your legs obviously. You were trying so hard to think of a comeback, but the teasing had been going on for so long that you were reaching your breaking point. You wanted him to fuck you so badly that it made you look stupid.

He grabbed your shoulder and turned you around to face him. It was so much harder to keep a poker face when you were looking into his eyes, when you could see that glint in them. The kind of glint that made you think he wanted to eat you alive. And you wanted him to.

“If you ask like a good girl, maybe I’ll give you what you want,” his voice came out so much smoother than usual. It intimidated you a bit, knowing that he was holding himself together so well. You knew that there was no way your voice was going to come out nearly as smooth.

“I’m not going to beg, Karl,” Your voice was shaking, but you tried to hold your cool. He always had fun when you talked back a little, and you were hoping that translated to this situation as well. And the wolf-like grin that grew on his face told you that you were right.

“We’ll see about that, kitten.”

- - - - -

You weren’t quite sure when the collar had appeared around your neck. Somewhere between the kitchen and Karl’s bedroom, though, it had snaked its way around your neck, even though his hands never seemed to leave your hips. You were a bit too occupied trying to keep up with his ravenous kisses.

His lips were latched onto your neck as he pushed you through the door to his room. You landed on his bed soon after with a slight bounce. You had been in his room before to clean, but the context was different now. The actual room itself was entirely irrelevant, as Karl climbed on top of you, throwing his hat and glasses to the side, not caring where they landed. All you could look at were his eyes, glowing bright yellow as he looked down at you.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten how much of a fucking brat you’re being,” he growled, looking down at you, “You’ve earned yourself quite the punishment.”

He sunk his teeth into your shoulder, biting just below the hickey that was already forming on your neck. He growled a bit as you squeaked in surprise, biting down a bit harder. You both felt when he broke the skin, and something told you that the mark he was leaving was entirely on purpose. He didn’t want anyone to doubt who you belonged to. His fingers dug into your skin, one hand holding your wrist above your head and the other digging into your side just above your hip. You had a feeling you would be covered in marks and bruises in the morning, and you were alright with that.

He pulled your clothes off quickly, throwing them to the side of the room. He wasn’t wasting any time, so you were pretty sure he had ripped through a seam or two on your dress. And he didn’t hesitate to rip your underwear completely in half.

He threw you around so much easier than you had expected. You knew that he was strong, you had just expected it to take at least a little bit of effort. You supposed that you shouldn’t have underestimated his inhuman strength, because in seconds he had flipped you, moving you so that you were on your hands and knees in front of him. You were entirely vulnerable in front of him, entirely bare as he remained fully clothed behind you.

It was weirdly hot, being at his mercy. He wasn’t a good person, and you knew that. In fact, there was still a feeling in your chest reminding you that he could kill you whenever he wanted. But that didn’t matter at that moment. The fear just made it better in some sick way. You knew you were insane, you had to be, but if insanity felt this good, you were going to accept it.

“Now, kitten, be good and stay quiet through your punishment, and maybe you’ll get a reward,” he stated, sliding his hands from the place they were resting on your waist to rest on your ass instead, “Do I make myself clear?”

You nodded in response, not trusting your voice as his hands slid further down, reaching the back of your thighs, one of his thumbs dangerously close to your pussy. His hands were callused, so as they slid across your skin, it created an interesting sensation. Your eyes almost rolled back into your head as his thumb brushed lightly against your clit, and you heard him chuckle a bit at your reaction. However, before you could enjoy yourself too much, he pulled his thumb away, sliding his hands back up to your ass.

There was a pause for a few moments, and you felt his eyes scanning your body. They always seemed to feel so much more intense than anyone else’s gaze ever could. Before you could get self-conscious, though, one of his hands raised from its place, only to come back down hard. The smacking sound echoed through the entire room, and you couldn’t hold back your yelp.

“Now, now, pet, I thought I said to keep quiet. I’ll let this slide once because you’re cute, but any more, and I’ll have to add some more punishment,” he cooed, grabbing the leash of the collar around your neck and pulling it towards him. He leaned forward until he could actually look at your face, seeing the tears prick at the corners of your eyes already, “I’d hate to break my toy right away, so try to behave.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond before shoving your head down into the bed and resuming your punishment. You bit your lip, trying your best not to actually break the skin, as you did your best to stay quiet. You were a bit surprised by how much you enjoyed it. After the first few, the pain started to melt away, hidden behind a numb tingling that sent electricity shooting through your whole body. And it was pretty obvious to Heisenberg as well, when slick started to drip down the inside of your thighs.

You lost count before he stopped, but it couldn’t have been more than fifteen. He let out a satisfied hum as he looked at the handprints that were already starting to form, rubbing his hands gently over the forming bruises. You almost started purring as his hands continued to slide across your body.

“You’ve been such a good girl, kitten,” he praises as he moves your body, eventually making you stand in front of him as he sat on the edge of the bed, “Do you want your reward now?”

You nod, far too gone to even try to not look like a desperate fool. He looked proud of himself, seeing you so needy and bare in front of him. It was like a work of art. You had never seen so much admiration and need in his eyes. It wasn’t love. But it was need, and want, and possession.

“Ask nicely.”

You were too desperate to argue. You needed him more than you could remember needing anything, “Please, sir.”

You swore you saw the bulge in his pants twitch at the word “sir” and the glint in his eyes confirmed your suspicions. The grin he gave you showed his teeth, highlighting his fangs like a predatory animal about to lunge.

“Good girl,” He drew it out, shifting his body so that his legs were spread as far as they could be comfortably, before commanding, “Kneel.”

You do as you’re told almost by instinct. It was almost as though your body moved without your brain giving it permission. You had been entirely possessed by your lust. And it only got worse as his hands moved to unzip his pants, only removing enough of his clothing to free his cock.

“You want this, don’t you?” He looked almost amused as your eyes locked onto his cock. You were practically drooling over it. He almost laughed as you nodded, “Enjoy your treat, pet.”

He leaned back a bit, his weight being put on one of his hands, positioned a bit behind him on the bed. He looked so casual as you moved your hands to timidly take the place of his own, which had previously been holding his cock in place. He had to admit you looked adorable, needy and desperate as you kneeled between his legs. You were practically drooling for him.

You started out a bit slow, which surprised him a little. The little kitten licks and kisses felt good enough for him to close his eyes to savor it. However, from the smirk that had formed on your face by the time that he opened his eyes, he realized that you were planning on teasing. He wasn’t about to let that slide.

The hand that he had rested on the top of your head tightened its grip on your hair. “Watch it, kitten. Don’t be a tease,” He growled, pushing your head down a bit until about half of his cock was in your mouth.

With that, your willpower to hold back faded, and you took the rest of him into your mouth. The tip hit the back of your throat just a bit, making you hold back a gag. And as you looked up at him through your lashes and found him smirking down at you, you could tell that he saw it. You reveled in the soft groans that slipped past his lips when you finally got to work, swirling your tongue around as you bobbed your head. You moaned as he pulled your hair, the vibrations causing him to curse and pull your hair even more, “Fuck, kitten, you’re pretty good at that.”

You continued like that for a few more minutes, his grip on your hair getting tighter and tighter. The salty, bitter taste of precum started to hit the back of your throat, making it a bit harder not to gag. But the sounds that slipped from his mouth fueled you even more. You felt proud, hearing how much he was enjoying himself. You almost felt a bit disappointed as he pulled you off of him by your hair, causing you to whine loudly.

“Aw, don’t worry, kitten,” He says, patting your head, “We aren’t done yet. Why don’t you lay down and let me take care of you? You’ve been such a good girl.”

You do as you're told, without saying anything. As you had gotten into the mode you were in, playing the role of Heisenberg’s pet, talking seemed unnatural. It felt right to listen to his commands, obeying him like a dog. So you laid on your back, spread out and completely bare. And you couldn’t hold back the yelp as he grabbed your hips and yanked you roughly to the edge of the bed, so that as he kneeled in front of you, his face was entirely level with your pussy.

You saw that glint in his eyes again as his warm breath hit your already dripping core. You were getting reckless, trying to inch your way closer to speed up the process, only for his grip to tighten on your waist, holding you in place. He had an iron grip on you, and you were thankful for that as he licked a broad stripe up across your pussy before diving in, focusing almost all of his attention on your clit.

You were practically screaming his name as swirled his tongue around your clit with dexterity you didn’t think was even possible to possess. His hands were definitely leaving fingerprint-shaped bruises on your hips, but at least they were holding you in place as you involuntarily started to buck your hips and arch your back. You could feel the knot tightening in your abdomen, your hands ripping the sheets so hard you were a bit worried that you were going to tear them. He slid a finger into you, hitting at just the right angle to make you squeal. You honestly couldn’t think of a time that someone had made you come undone quite so fast, but you certainly weren’t complaining as the tangled nerves in the pit of your stomach finally seemed to snap.

Karl had to admire you as you came, your head thrown back and your legs shaking. Your skin was practically glimmering from the thin layer of sweat that was already clinging to it. He couldn’t help the pride that flooded into his chest as you started to come down from your high looking absolutely destroyed. He wasn’t done yet, but he was glad to see he had it in him to affect you this much.

He slowly stepped back, his eyes never leaving you as you laid on the bed, trying to catch your breath. He made sure to lock eyes with you as he slowly stripped the rest of his clothes off, layer by layer. By the time you recovered, he was finally taking off his necklaces, dropping them onto the pile he had made with the rest of his clothing. Despite his strength, he wasn’t exactly ripped. His arms were fairly muscular and defined, but he had a bit of squish around his stomach. His body was coated in a layer of body hair, the bits of silver shining in the dim light of the room you were in.

He was attractive in the rugged way that made it make sense that he smelled like metal and cigar smoke as he crawled on top of you, keeping pace as you inch yourself further up the bed. It was only once you had settled into place that he leaned down, kissing you feverishly. It escalated with every second, the hand that he wasn’t using to support his body weight roamed your body. It wasn’t long until his hand was moving your legs, angling your hips to make it easier for him to line himself up with your entrance.

He pulled away from the kiss just long enough to slowly push himself into you, watching your reaction as you slowly adjusted to his width and length. It didn’t take you long to adjust, though, and he could tell when you did. He started off slow. It surprised you how gentle he was being, but you didn’t mind at first. Before long, though, you were craving more. You wanted him to use your body.

“Please,” You whined, “Harder.”

He grinned a bit at your begging, recalling your declaration that you wouldn’t beg. He honestly couldn’t tell what part he enjoyed more, the win he had earned or seeing you beneath him, begging for him. Either way, he wasn’t going to deny you what you wanted.

So he leaned back, shifting his weight to his knees so that he could grab your ankles. He pinned your legs to your chest. As he slammed into you, much harder than before, you could tell just how much the angle had changed. Your eyes nearly rolled back into your head as he continued to thrust into you. Your moans got louder, and he started to groan a bit too, cursing under his breath as his thrusts got a bit uneven.

“Fuck, kitten,” he breathed into your ear as he leaned down, your legs on his shoulders. You could feel him twitching inside of you, getting close to his own ending, “You’re such a good girl.”

You couldn’t help yourself as your hands moved to scratch down his back, digging your nails in as deeply as you could. He responded by biting into the same place he had earlier, a bit of blood from before sticking to the corners of his mouth. With a few more rough thrusts, his teeth sinking a little bit deeper into your shoulder, he finished. And the two of you both started to relax.

After a few seconds of you both catching your breath, he pulled away, rolling to the side so that he could comfortably lay on his back next to you. It was an awkward few moments, both of you laying there in near silence, only for him to break it with, “We should probably get that bite cleaned up, huh? My bad, pet. I forget how fragile you are sometimes.”

And with that he got up, moving to gently take care of you. He cleaned up your bite mark, and helped you clean between your shaky legs with a damp washcloth. It was a whole new side of him as he helped clean you off, making sure that he hadn’t been hurt too badly. And after a few minutes, when you had been cleaned enough that you weren’t actively uncomfortable, he climbed back into bed and wordlessly pulled you into his chest.

(A/N: So... um. I'm sorry for this. This is my second smut ever and I needed to get a bit... self-indulgent so my brain would stfu.)

#karl heisenberg #lord heisenberg #heisenberg smut #re8 heisenberg #resident evil heisenberg #heisenberg x reader #karl heisenburg x reader #resident evil 8 village #resident evil village x reader

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fabricated-misslieness · 4 years ago

Text

Yoru x male reader

Got this idea from a tiktok. btw I have no idea if blunt force can cause a split lip.

Pre-VALORANT Protocol and Kingdom creation, a short time after First Light. This entire thing is a lot of headcanons

Requested: No

Word Count: 2,305

Warnings: making out, cat cockblocking cause she wants food, sparring, split lip, blood, a bit of sadomasochism, bottom & masochist Yoru, sadistic reader, very very suggestive

16+

His lungs were begging for air, his knees were close to giving in, his skin felt like it was burning, his arms were sore. It was no matter of time before he was on the ground again, your foot on his chest. He was starting to like this point of view.

Though he doesn’t get to cherish it much longer because you’re off of him quickly.

“You don’t block properly.” You state, wiping the sweat off your face with the bottom of your shirt. Yoru, despite all his exhaustion, wolf whistles as he stares at your exposed skin. You ignore him, seeing as this one was on you, unlike all the previous ones. “No offense-only can win in my arena.”

“Manly Jackie?” He suggests. Manly Jackie was once a participant of your arena. As most champions with awful alliances, his reign did not last long.

“He was once a champion, yes, but he was beaten by somebody with good balance. Coerce had both good and offensive qualities. Jackie ate shit that match.” You chuckle at the memory.

Yoru shrugs, standing up. Pain sears on his skin when he gets back on his feet, but he ignores it. If he wants to be in your arena, he has to be ‘eligible’. And boy, did he not meet your conditions. “Another round.”

You had to give it to him, he had courage. After all, he’d asked the boss of an arena to train him by sparring. But the courage blinded him; either that, or he just pushed right through the pain.

That ‘First Light’ event had given him a lot more courage than he already had. He had gotten powers from it, and he figured they’d be useful in battle.

You see, Yoru had a lot of connections. He was the guy on the block that always got into trouble, yet he always managed to weasel out of it thanks to his connections. Though most of the trouble was caused by his connections, because that meant that his connections; enemies were his enemies. He was stuck in a loop, getting beat up by his connections’ enemies, then saved by his connections.

That was why he came to you. He wanted to get skills in fighting, not only to avoid his own demise from his connections’ enemies, but also to gain money. Your champions got rewards, and he was running a little low on funds.

It had been a while since the First Light happened, which gave you the right amount of time to decide whether to invite these new ‘superpowered’ people into your arena. You’d decided on yes, but these new people had to meet the conditions that the normal fighters did, skill and muscle.

He had some muscle, along with potential, but you wouldn't admit that; a big ego isn't a good trait for a beginner to have, even though he already had one.

You raise an eyebrow, “Tenth time I knock you off your feet, yet you’re still getting back up. I can tell you’re tired, Yoru.” He loved it when you said his given name, although it was the only one he gave to you. “This time you might just last 5 minutes.”

“I’m fine with lasting 5 minutes.” He winks.

“Sorta pathetic if you do,” You look him up and down and see him shrink under your gaze. “both ways.” Yoru smirks. He likes when you flirt back, though he can’t tell if you mean it.

“Sure you don’t just want to sit down for a while?” You gesture to the couch at the back of the room.

“I’m sure.”

Your living room was more of a gym than anything. Being the boss meant you got a steady income; you had a big apartment. You had a couch, yes, but anything else that’s part of a lounging area was nonexistent. Although, the room didn’t look quite good, with the couch standing out amongst the gym equipment and the kitchen having barely enough working space.

When Yoru first saw it, he questioned it. As the boss, he expected you to have many visits from ‘business partners’ of sorts. He’d assumed you did them in your own home, rather than anywhere else, which is dumb on his end.

"I don't get many visits.” You’d replied, after clearing up the business meeting part.

"I highly doubt that. With the way you look, I figured you got plenty of feminine visitors." He might just have killed his chances with you.

"Feminine, perhaps." Feminine submissive men, that is. He didn't know that, and you didn't feel like coming out to an acquaintance of yours. "But not all that often. Besides, they don’t stay for long.”

You regretted entertaining his perverted head, since that had sparked many more pick up lines from him. At least you believed it did, you didn’t know if he would’ve otherwise.

Yoru barely manages to dodge your punch, though before he can recover, you take his momentary vulnerability to strike again. He doesn’t have the reflexes to react. The air is knocked out of his lungs, and he doubles over in pain, yet he doesn’t tap out. You expect him to, which is why you don’t punch him again, but it gives him a moment to get back at you.

He punches your stomach, but at this point he’s so weak and exhausted that it barely hurts. You’re not one to take pity though. Over the years, you’d learned that mercy did not make good business in an underground job.

This blow is hard, then again all of them are hard, though this one seemed to do something different.

That something is knocking him out.

When he regains consciousness, he's laying down on your couch. You're on the other side of the room, leaning against your kitchen counter and rewrapping your knuckles.

"How long was I out?" He asks immediately, only to find that his jaw aches when he speaks.

"A few minutes." You reply, you don’t look up at him, nor do you seem surprised that he’d woken up. “A bit uncommon, though you’re only a rookie. In a few months, you’ll eat that kind of blow like it was any other.”

"You have no technique, your punches are too obvious, your blocks are easy to break, and you don't know your limits." You list off his weaknesses. “Don’t let that ego of yours get to your head.” They felt more like insults than constructive criticism.

Yoru huffs in frustration, though mentally taking note of them. Thanks to his arrogance, he thought he’d be a natural. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked the boss after all. He licks his lips as he thinks, it’s only then that he finds his bottom one is split. "Hey, (y/n)?" You look at him, he points towards his lips. "A little help?"

You sigh but gesture him to come to you. You take note of how his walk is a little eager as he walks to sit on the stool next to you.

You take his chin in your hand to tilt it up and inspect his lip, though you have no problem with diagnosing the problem. "Split lip."

"You know, I heard that you need to apply pleasure to a bleeding lip to fix it." His tone suggests he's not going to do it himself, as well as something else you definitely catch yet you ignore. He most certainly wasn't saying it innocently, instead, it was quite flirtatious.

"And what are you suggesting?" You can't help but flirt back. He's handsome, which is part of his charm, but you can't say you didn't enjoy beating up his pretty little face earlier; and not in the 'putting someone cocky down' kinda way.

“Put some kinda pressure on my lips.” Yoru elaborates.

You can’t help but laugh a little, “Okay, let me just get a rag.” You move away from him, but Yoru tugs you back, putting a hand on the back of your neck. Before you can say anything else, he kisses you. He's impatient and it's clear, he couldn’t stand you playing around anymore.

The blood from his busted lip would be discouraging, if you weren't lowkey sadistic. On the other hand, Yoru feels pain with every move of your lips against his own. He seems to like it though. He's had his fair share of hook ups, but never had pain been a part of them. It was new and thrilling to feel a sting of both pain and pleasure.

You, with all the experience you have, bite his bottom lip to ask for permission to deepen the kiss, forgetting Yoru's situation. You pull back, fully expecting a whine and complaint, but you find a moan instead. You'd never expected to find a masochist to your sadist, least of all him, but you took the opportunity.

"You liked that?" You chuckle. “Pain?”

"Oh, shut up." Yoru groans. He doesn't like to be on the receiving end of teasing, which is an unlikely pair to his masochism. “But, yes.”

You laugh again, only to take his lips moments after. You're heated in lip lock when you decide you're tired of this position, leaning down is a little tiring. With seemingly no effort at all, you lift him up. Yoru wraps his legs around your waist instinctively, pulling back from your kiss with a gasp. "Hey!" He whines, only to be interrupted by a moan when your hands dig into his ass.

"Now where do you want to go?" You give him a flirtatious smile. "Bedroom, traditional but I can't blame you; couch, more comfortable for the both of us; or counter? High chance of getting bent over." Your words send a shiver down his spine.

He liked this new, flirtatious you. Before, you were a mere connection which he’d gotten from running errands for you every now and then. They were mundane tasks, and as boss, you had to keep your intimidating, serious composure. Naturally, it made him want to crack you, see who you were when nobody was looking at you. Obviously, your personality was not flirting, although at least it wasn’t the aforementioned. Hopefully he’d find out more the next morning.

"Counter." Yoru mutters. He hopes to god that you don't make him repeat himself with the fake excuse that you hadn't heard him.

Thankfully, you don't, instead bringing him to sit on top of the counter. Your hands are no longer on his ass, something he disliked, but he can't really blame you for it. He starts kissing you again, hungry and yearning. His fingers tug at your hair restlessly, legs still around your waist pulling you closer to him.

He wants more, and you’ll gladly give it to him.

You bite his bottom lip again, making him open his mouth with a gasp. You take advantage of the moment, sliding your tongue in his mouth. Your hands slip under his shirt, caressing his skin absentmindedly. The rough feeling of your hand wrap contrasts against your soft yet calloused fingers, yet it felt good all the same. Yoru finds your touch leaving a burning feeling, suddenly finding himself hot and bothered.

He pulls back, much to your mutual dismay. Before you can ask, he takes off his shirt, clearing your confusion. “Oh.”

Yoru laughs, “Oh.” He mocks you.

You tsk, silencing him with your lips before he can tease you further. Yoru’s disappointed by the fact you don’t play with his chest anymore, seeing as he discarded of his shirt for that purpose. He takes your hands and slides them up his abdomen, leaving you to figure out the rest. He’s disappointed when you pull back just to laugh.

“That eager, huh?” Yoru, instead of avoiding your gaze like other people would, looks you head on with a look that says ‘so what?’. It makes you laugh again, “Alright, alright.”

You peck him on the lips, which confuses him a little, until you pepper kisses down to his neck. He groans as you do, hands trailing up to your hair and tugging your head further down. “Jeez.” You mutter, but continue anyway. Meanwhile, your hands trail up to his nipples and play with them. Once again, your hand wraps cause different textures and feelings.

You kiss and bite at his neck, leaving marks. Some of them are stained with blood, though that comes from kissing his cut lips.

Before you can continue doing anything else, though, you hear a meow. Both of you stop and turn to look down, seeing your cat looking up at you two. Immediately, the mood dies down, because you can’t just make out in front of your floofy child.

Yoru unwraps his legs from your waist, allowing you to bend down and reach out to pet her. Instead of accepting the pets, she reaches out to swat you with her claws. Unfortunately, you don’t react quick enough, even with those reflexes of yours. You hiss, clutching your hand. Yoru laughs while you give him side eye with a huff, “It’s her dinner time.”

You move towards the cabinets, where you keep her food. He watches you as you prepare it from the counter.

For a moment, you sit in silence, but he doesn’t like that. "If you can't make fun of me 5 seconds after making out with me, who even are you?"

You chuckle and comply. "You know, if you had chosen the bedroom, the cat wouldn't have bothered us." You think it over for a few seconds. "Well, she would've, but the sound of her slashing at my door would've been drowned out by the bed creaking."

Yoru flushes red, even though he’d actually asked you to tease him. “Then let’s go there afterwards.”

You shrug, “It depends on if you get me in the mood again.”

#⚠️nsfw🙈#yoru x reader #yoru x male reader #valorant yoru x reader #valorant yoru x male reader #valorant x reader #valorant fanfic

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sebstanseabass · 3 years ago

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Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 7

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

CHAPTER SEVEN

Lunch with Bucky was spent in a little Italian place right across the bar. It belonged to a seventy-year old Italian immigrant named Marco who invested in it with nothing but his savings when he first came to New York. Fifteen years later, his little dining place stood still through its ups and downs. In fact, business was getting stronger for Marco ever since the bar opened. His target customers expanded from fellow immigrants to little boys who played soccer in the little league and finally to drunk bastards who wanted pizza in the middle of the night. He also started putting up a 24/7 sign and hired more people to work for him. Marco gave me a sympathetic smile as soon as he passed by you with a bottle of hot sauce he knew you liked.

"Where's the hunk?" His Italian accent never faltered. "Ditched ya?"

Lunch with Bucky was also cut short when he received a phone call from Leonard about an emergency in the White Wolf. "It's Leonard." He said. "Gotta get back to the hotel." Then you slipped in a tiny question, seeing a different phone on his hand: "Is that your phone? I thought you left it in your penthouse, that's why you crashed into our apartment."

"I borrowed Peter's old phone when we did our little fiancè act back there. Then I got my phone back after I ate all that food."

"And here you are again eating."

"Not anymore, I'm not." He chuckled, getting up from the chair and throwing his napkin gently on the table. "I gotta go, doll. Duty awaits. I'll see you around."

You were left there with two plates of pasta, one large pizza, and a hundred dollar bill that covered the whole meal. "Plus tip." Bucky then fled and hailed a cab. He gave you one last look and a small salute before getting inside then off he went.

"He had some business work to do." You replied. "Can I take these to-go please? Oh, and here." You handed Marco the hundred dollar bill and said something you have never said (not once!) in your entire life. "Keep the change."

Marco grinned, took the money and placed it inside his apron pockets. "Any chance you got four more of this?"

"Hey, that's with the tip already!" You playfully rolled your eyes and leaned back on the chair. "And you should ask the hunk that. Not me."

He started taking some plates off the table, his back a bit hunched as he did. "Who was that anyway? Finally replaced that old boyfriend of yours?"

"Old boyfriend? Marco, I'm single. Oh no, you're not at that stage now, are you?" It was meant as a joke but you did genuinely care for the old guy.

Marco stopped from picking up the plates and stood taller. "What ya talking 'bout?"

"You know," you whispered, "the forgetful stage."

"Oh fuck off." You earned a glare from him then continued to pick up the plates from the table before wiping it clean. A mother covered her three-year-old daughter's ears, with pasta noodles falling out of her mouth. She said something to Marco but was overpowered by his voice. A man in his 40's kept looking at you and Marco, probably wondering what the fuss was all about. "I'm still young!" He added. "And you know who I'm talking about. The guy you live with."

You scoffed and gave him an unbelievable look as you watched him clean, avoiding the stares people were starting to give. "That's not my boyfriend, Marco." You whispered.

"What? He's not?"

"He's my roommate." You took a sip of your bottled water. "We're roommates, nothing more."

"Well, good. I like the hunk better than that skinny roommate of yours." He bellowed laughing, holding his big, round belly. His voice echoed against the walls.

"Wait, so you thought Peter was my boyfriend this whole time?" You genuinely asked.

"Well, yeah! You were always together eating and whatnot. What was I supposed to think?"

You were supposed to argue with Marco that it was okay to be friends with someone of the opposite gender: to platonically hangout twenty-four seven, have pizza nights, movie nights, and all the things couples do but in a very platonic way. But Marco was an old man who stubbornly clung to his ancient beliefs. You didn't want to light a fire you and him. Besides, you were still on your way to earning his trust and getting a friend discount.

"Unbelievable." You mumbled, hoping he wouldn't hear it. Despite his old age, Marco still had the ears of a twenty-year old.

"You and me, both. All the time I was thinking to myself, you could do better!"

Oh, God. I know where this is going. You thought. "I'm not letting you set me up with your son, Marco."

"Why not?"

"Because he's old." You groaned, wishing he would just clear the table and just get it on with your to-go Italian food.

"So was that hunk you were with!"

Tired of all the back and forths, you sighed. "Marco, can't you just give me the food? I still have work to do."

"Yeah, yeah, aight. Don't nag me." Marco grunted. "You sounding like my ex-wife back there." His voice faded once he went back towards the counter, and started placing the food in the little to-go boxes.

Your phone on the table lit up. A text message from Peter asking you if you were still with Bucky. You replied back instantly that he went back to the White Wolf. You received no more messages from him after that.

A few seconds later, a figure approached and stopped right in front of you. You looked up and saw one of your friends who also did photography back in college.

"Wanda?"

Wanda flashed you that sweet smile of hers that reminded you of chocolates, rainbows, and unicorns.

"Aria! Wow, it's so nice to see you!" She crouched down to envelope you in a warm hug, then sat across from you, where Bucky was sitting a few minutes ago. She placed her small, shiny purse right on the table, her painted nails never letting it go. "I was just walking down the street and then saw you from the window. How are you? It's been quite long, huh?"

"Yeah, I'm doing good." Wanda could be such a Chatty Cathy. She was the kind of person that never let silence take over a room. If you memory served you right, you haven't seen each other since you graduated from college. She was a year younger than you and even though you stayed in New York the whole time, you never bothered to visit her at NYU Tisch during her last year. "How about you? How have you been doing?"

"I'm doing real good too! I actually set up my own studio a year ago in Manhattan after being a wedding photographer. I now photograph models, sometimes I do photowalks. I also hold photo exhibits from time to time." Unlike you, Wanda chose to follow her passion and majored in Photography and Imaging. "It's been really fun!"

Albeit feeling happy for her, a pang of jealousy struck you. You tried your best to ignore it and said: "That's great, Wanda. I'm so proud of you. You've come a long way since then."

She grinned. "I did, yeah. How about you? How's the business thing?"

You pursed your lips. "I'm actually juggling two jobs right now. I bartend at that bar over there," you pointed across the street, "and I also started a photography business." You continued. "I just do product photos for small businesses."

It was nothing big like Wanda's. Actually, it wasn't anything compared to her Manhattan studio and photowalks and photo exhibits. Nothing at all.

Her jaw dropped. Eyes wide. "Bartending? Wow! That doesn't sound like you at all!"

You chuckled then shook your head. "Who would've thought, huh? But it's pretty convenient and it pays half of my rent."

"You're still living with the Parker guy?"

"Actually, yes I still am." You replied. "But it's just the two of us now."

"Nothing more comforting than a familiar face around, huh?" She answered. "Oh hey, it's great you're still doing photography. I thought it was just a hobby of yours."

"I fell in love with it more during college, you know that."

Wanda just nodded her head in response then looked at her wrist watch. "Right. Well, this has been fun but I have a meeting to go to at some company who wants to talk about collaborations and stuff. You know the drill." She stood up from the chair, its legs scraping the wooden floors. "It was really nice to see you, Aria. I hope we can see each other again soon."

You mirrored her and stood up, reaching for a hug. "It's nice to see you too, Wanda." You let her go, then rambled. "I'm just in the bar if you ever wanna grab a drink or maybe coffee or lunch or anything, really."

"I will." She replied.

Before walking out, Wanda placed her hand on your shoulder, matched with a tight-lipped smile; like the gesture of someone towards a family member at one's funeral. Funnily enough, it was kind of appropriate. Your career in photography might as well be dead. You haven't received any work inquiry in over a month now, and some businesses have been rejecting your photography services. It was the classic "it's not you, it's me" scenario. They just found someone better.

With Wanda out of sight, you drained your thoughts and continued to stare at the moving cars on the streets. Getting you out of your trance was Marco tapping you on the shoulder.

"You alright there, kid?" He asked while handing you a plastic bag full.

"Yeah, sorry." You answered. "Just got distracted." You relieved him of your to-go food, grabbing it from his calloused hands.

"I know that kid you were talking to."

"Wanda?"

"Yeah, yeah. She photographed my son's wedding."

"The one you kept setting me up with?"

"Not that old bastard." He answered, frowning. "The younger, hotter one. With all the cheekbones and the eyes. Got them from me." Marco looked like a taller Danny DeVito. You doubted this "younger, hotter one" of his looked anything like Marco. "She also photographed my daughter's wedding."

"Jesus. How many children do you have?"

"Five." He chuckled. "I got some great swimmers."

You made a guttural sound and rolled your eyes. "Oh, God. Did not need to know that. Anyway, I gotta go. See you around, Marco." With that, you started to walk out and headed straight to the apartment.

There was nothing much to do once you got in the apartment besides putting the leftovers inside the fridge. The bar usually opened at four in the afternoon for happy hour so you took a short nap and was able to clear you head of all the things that happened overnight.

You woke up at about three in the afternoon and headed down the bar. By the time you got there, Nick was already inside, arranging the tables and chairs that were turned upside down.

"Hey, you got in early today." You greeted him as you approached the bar counter.

Nick looked up, hands still wrapped around a table. "Yeah well, I can't let you be employee of the month every single time."

"Living right above the bar does have some of its perks." You chuckled, grabbing an apron. "Need help with those?"

He answered no but his actions said otherwise. You jogged towards him and lifted the other side of the table, placing it on the floor without making much of a sound. You walked towards the other tables then started lifting one, praying to God you won't let it slip away from your arms but of course, you still had no luck on your side. Once Nick asked you that one question ("Do you want to go on a date with me?") you didn't want to hear, you dropped the table on your right foot. Bam! You stifled the sound of pain that itched your throat. Nick shuffled towards me and asked me if you were okay. You gently shrugged him off, telling him that it was nothing and that you you recently had a concussion less than twenty-four hours ago, this was absolutely nothing.

"You sure?" He asked. His hand gripped my waist, trying to maintain my balance.

"Yes, Nick." You straightened up and tried to stretch your right foot, checking if it was sprained or not. Thankfully, it was still good for running.

He let go of you then scratched the back of his head. His eyes focused on the wooden floors. "That was not a good time to ask that."

"I don't think there was ever a good time to ask that."

"Is that a no?"

Your mind recalled the conversation you and Peter had at the elevator: "Never dip the pen in company ink, right?"

Yes, it was easier to let him down easy with no one else around. You could also tell him you'll think about it but either way, you'd still be spending the remaining minutes in the bar with the fleeting awkwardness hanging in the air. But the silence was becoming heavier each second you weren't saying anything so you just shut your mind for a second and said: "Is it okay if I think about it first?"

"Yes. Sure. Of course!" He replied, finally meeting your eyes. "Just let me know. You know where to find me. Just here in the bar. 'Cause I work here."

"I know, Nick." You snickered. "I work here too."

"Right, right." He shook his head. "I'm just gonna..." He trailed off, pointing to the tables with his thumb.

"Yeah, I'll just..." You didn't know where else to go so you just made up an excuse. "I'll just be in the kitchen."

"What are you gonna do there?"

"I think there are still some shipments there? From earlier?" Lie. "I'll take care of them. Don't worry."

"O-okay."

And with that, you left Nick arranging tables and chairs while you headed towards the kitchen, sat on the floor and scrolled through different social media platforms before one of the cooks entered the kitchen. You ignored the befuddled look she gave you. It was the sign to stand up and walk out of the kitchen. So you did.

Once Peter walked in the doors, you grabbed a bottle of beer and removed the bottle cap. You greeted him with a smile and placed his drink on the counter. "Hey, Parker. Guess what?"

"Hey, y/n." He smiled, sitting on the stool and placing his briefcase on the counter. He immediately grabbed the beer bottle and took his first sip. "Nick finally asked you out?"

"You don't know the rules to the 'Guess What' game, do you?"

"Oh, I know the rules." He replied. "I'm just a born rule breaker. So," he stared at his beer bottle scratching the sticker with his thumbs, "did you say yes?"

"I told him I'll think about it."

"And you've thought about it?"

"Yes."

"...and?"

"I'm gonna tell him no." You walked away from Peter, pouring beer from the beer tap into a beer mug for one of the regulars who just walked in. "It's kind of hard to work with someone you're dating or you've dated. I mean, you learned that the hard way, right?"

Peter groaned, reminiscing the time he dated his co-worker, a certain Denise, for six months, stringing her along for a couple more before dumping her. He couldn't even begin to describe how much hatred Denise had for Peter. One night, you found Peter on the rooftop, writing his resignation letter. Of course, you had to throw it after sneaking up on him behind his back. Apparently, Peter couldn't take any more of Denise's death stares during meetings, lunch breaks, and any time she was around Peter. Luckily, Denise got fired the next day for some legal dispute. Peter drank his whole night away that very day and you ended up taking care of him. The next day, you told him everything he'd done that night except one thing: trying to kiss you.

"Hey," Peter hissed, "here he comes. Good luck." He swiftly left his briefcase and beer bottle on the counter, hurrying his way towards the toilet.

You gave Nick a small smile once he opened the counter pass-through. "Nick. Hi."

"Y/n. Hi!"

"So, about the thing earlier -- "

"Can I get a beer?" Interrupted a man on your left side but you couldn't care less. You put up your hand in front of his face. "In a mug!"

Before you could even say "I'm sorry, Nick, but I can't date a co-worker. It's just not right. But you're great. Not just with me" the man shooed your hand away. "Hey! The hell is this?"

You groaned. "You'll get your beer in just one moment, okay?"

The man huffed and left the counter then sat on a nearby table, flipping me off. You rolled your eyes at him and brought your attention back to Nick who was still waiting for your answer. While halfway through your short speech you have been preparing in your head, he interrupted with a: "Yeah, yeah, I know where this is going. It's fine. It's alright. I understand. I'll let you get back to work."

He started turning around but you immediately stopped him. "So this is okay, right? No weird tension between us, or something like that?"

He nodded his head and sent you a warm smile. "Yeah, everything's good. At least I tried, y'know. I'll, uh, see ya around 'cause y'know -- "

"You work here, yeah."

"Yeah. Well... " And with that, he treaded away towards the pass-through and approached some newcomers.

The man from earlier was still staring at you so you went ahead and opened the beer tap. Before the liquid even reached the top of the mug, a hand laid on top of the tap handle and turned the tap off.

"Now," Bucky's voice rang inside your ears, "how about you make me a mean drink, doll?"

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes story #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky au #au #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes fan fic

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glitxhwayventeen · 3 years ago

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Lonely Together

Jihoon: Chapter 1 (Perfect)

Characters: Jihoon x female reader

Genre/Warnings: multi-member au (different scenarios), werewolf au, fantasy, smut, angst, fluff, potential blood mentions, genocide, runaways, domestic violence, child abuse, abandonment, homelessness, hunger, violence. Any others will be put as warnings when future chapters are thought up/written.

Author’s Note: I recommend listening to Perfect by Ed Sheeran before reading this. That’s the song I thought of while writing this because it makes me feel some type of way you know?

Please remember that all of these chapters and the content within them are a work of fiction! They’re just for fun/entertainment!

Bold= Dialogue Italics= Thoughts

🥀 & ☁️

Lonely Together Master List

Chapter 1: Perfect

It had been so long since you’d been around so many people. It made you antsy. You didn’t understand a lot of what was going on in the house. The constant noise scared you. It had you on such an edge that you nearly screamed everytime one of them coughed.

To be fair, before you had met them, you’d honestly jump at footsteps. Because footsteps meant humans, and humans meant danger. Not to mention that you were still not used to being in your human form. You preferred to stay a wolf, you were stronger when you walked on all four legs, and you weren’t as noticeable.

Your human appearance was… striking to most people to say the least. Your bright eyes and darker skin with salt and pepper curly hair made everyone around you always stare at you. You understood it somewhat, you didn’t match everyone else’s looks in Korea. But that didn’t mean you liked people watching you all the time, you hated being the center of attention. So to say you were still adjusting to being around people after having lived alone for centuries was a bit of an understatement. It was all so new to you. You had a new feeling now too. You just weren’t sure what it was…

At first, you thought maybe it was hope. You hadn’t hoped in such a long time, it would bring tears to even the most hardened criminal’s eyes. But you weren’t that good at trusting that human part of you. So you decided to go off of what you knew. And, even though you hadn’t been there long, two weeks at the most you thought, you learned a lot of things about them. You knew all but one of the wolves had a mate. You knew that two of the alphas butted heads on how to lead the pack a lot and that one just watched from the side and did everything behind the scenes without causing too much distress to the others. You knew they all loved each other, no matter what they said or how much they fought. You also knew that, being around them made you feel more alone than you’ve felt in decades.

When you were younger, you didn’t mind being alone. It meant that you didn’t have to rely on anyone, it meant you only had to look out for yourself. And as you got older, it just felt… right. But being around this house full to the brim with people, you started to realize just how much you missed being part of a big family. They treated you like you were one of them. Which was weird to you… because they didn’t really know you. I mean sure they saved you from imminent death, but they didn’t know you from Adam.

The more you thought about your current situation, the weirder the feeling got. The closer you got to each one of them, the stronger the feeling got. And when you got close to one of the quiet ones in particular, you swore it felt like your heart was singing to you. It was something you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to, but it wasn’t something you necessarily hated either. Whatever the feeling was, you’d figure it out eventually or it would go away on its own… right?

Still, You got to eat first with the other mates, well the mates minus Soonyoung. He may have been Seungcheol’s mate but 1.) he was a wolf unlike the other mates and 2.) he was a male wolf so he ate just as much as the other boys did. So they didn’t think it fair that he get to eat with all of you. Or them…. Or-whatever. You didn’t know, you just knew they offered you and the other girls food first and, considering you used to have to hunt for your food or you didn’t get to eat, you were definitely NOT complaining. Soonyoung though, you learned, had a tendency to whine about any and everything that he didn’t like.

“Aww come on again! No fair! (Y/N)’s just as much of a wolf as I am! Why does SHE get to eat first when I don’t??” Soonyoung decided to voice aloud, grabbing his plate with both hands and semi-patiently waiting for his turn to grab food.

You didn’t mind of course. You did think he had a point. It didn’t seem fair to him. Either he should be eating with the other mates, or you should be eating with the other wolves. So you agreed.

“He’s got a point. I should be eating with the other wolves. I eat more than the other girls after all” you shrugged matter of factly to the lead alpha, who was also his mate, who was hunched over the stove making said breakfast.

The thing is, Seungcheol did understand the argument. And he personally saw merit to the concerns, whether it was because it was a genuine point or whether it was just from months of his mate complaining about it, he didn’t know. Still, he saw it’s reasonings and thought they could be sound.

BUUUT, he also knew that SOMEBODY would definitely NOT be happy if you had to wait and fight the boys for food. It seemed everyone, wolves and mates alike, but you understood that Jihoon had imprinted on you already. Maybe you just didn’t know much about it, or maybe you knew and just decided you didn’t want to know, either way, it wasn’t for him to decide or judge.

So, as he looked over to the table of boys who were ACTUALLY patiently waiting their turn to dig in, his eyes landed on Jihoon, who shook his head and narrowed his eyes at the older wolf in return. Of course you didn’t notice this action, you were always more in your own head than you were in conversations.

“Sucks to suck kids. I make the rules and I say you eat with the mates. End of story. Sorry love!” he declared, once again moving his eyes ever so slightly to Jihoon, who nodded his head slightly as he smiled triumphantly.

He was NOT about to let his newfound mate eat the other mates leftovers with the other wolves. No. That was absolutely NOT happening. He may not have “officially” expressed that you were his mate, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t gonna do everything in his power to make sure you were happy, healthy, and well fed.

“But-” you argued, trying to bring your point’s validity up to him again.

“But nothing (Y/N). Sure you eat more than the other girls. But you DEFINITELY don’t eat as much as the boys do. Even if you are a wolf. Besides you’re one of-” he trailed off just as someone around the room hit the table slightly and coughed. Everyone but you realized where he was going with that sentence, and Jihoon wasn’t ready to face that just yet.

“-One of our guests.” Seungcheol thought after a moment, clearly lying his ass off but hoping he did a good enough job that you didn’t notice. Luckily for him, you weren’t all that great at social cues. “Therefore you shall not be eating whatever’s left, you’ll get first dibs with the other girls.” He said as he sat one of the plates of remaining food left from what the mates couldn’t eat down on the table, kissing his pouting mates forehead in the process.

“Don’t worry about Soonyoung. He’s just a baby. He’ll get over it. You deserve to be eating with the mates.” Spoke the smallest boy of the pack with a smile that seemed to light up as bright as a bonfire whenever you looked him in the eyes. He was the one that had your heart singing whenever you were in the same room. His little declaration made your cheeks heat up.

“O-Okay, I guess. I still don’t think I’ve done anything to deserve the special treatment… but thank you” you resolved with a polite smile back, doing your best to hide the pink covering your face. His heart rate sped up to jackrabbit speed as his inner wolf seemed to beamed at your answer.

“No (Y/N). Thank YOU.” Hansol retorted with a shit eating grin on his face. What he wanted to say was “thanks for helping one of the assholes in the group become juuuuust a little less of an asshole by being his mate,” but obviously he couldn’t do that without getting his ass beat.

“Thank me? Thank me for what?” You questioned, genuinely curious as to what he was thanking you for. You hadn’t done anything to warrant a thank you… had you?

“Oh nothing. Don’t worry about it. You’ll find out… eventually” He let out, looking at Jihoon, earning a smack from the older wolf and a small growl. Though he whined for a second, Hansol still began to laugh at his actions.

“…Okaaaay…” you said, trying your best to forget the conversation as a whole so you could eat the remains of your pancakes. Man these guys are weird.

Jihoon wasn’t sure exactly what he should do. He knew he couldn’t deny his instincts forever. But he wasn’t so sure about this whole “mate” thing. I mean, who was he kidding, he got along better on his own. He survived on his own for his entire life, at the orphanage, at school, even in his pack. For the most part, he kept to himself. He was SEVERELY independent, and he liked it that way. People just always managed to bring attachments and strings. Even still, He couldn’t cut off his pack. I mean don’t get him wrong, he loved those idiots and would do anything for them, but fuck, if they didn’t have the dumbest ideas and get themselves into the stupidest shit sometimes.

He knew his survival instinct told him to just ignore the feelings he had for you and act like nothing happened to protect himself. It’s not like you had noticed anyways. But the wolf part of him loved the idea of having a mate. For the longest time, he had to sit around and watch his brothers find their mates and fall in deep love. He watched Seungcheol find Soonyoung first a few months after he had met him. Then Joshua found his mate, Mina, after a few weeks of knowing him. Even little Channie imprinted on his mate, Somi, after just two days of Jihoon being acquainted with him.

Before he knew it, it was just him left without one. They always seemed so… happy and he just… wasn’t. He didn’t mind of course. He was glad his brothers found happiness. But he soon came to realize how lonely being alone truly was. He’d see his pack and their mates do cute things and, his heart was struck with a dull pain that never seemed to lessen, and at the time he didn’t understand why that was. But when he saw you, he knew the whole time he was yearning for you. When he saw you, for once he didn’t completely loathe the idea of taking care of or protecting another person. Even if it meant becoming one of the “lovey people.” He saw you and, one bat of your beautiful eyelashes and he knew, he would gladly lay his life down for you. How could he not?

You were caring and kind, even if you didn’t like to show it. You held yourself high, even if you were small. You were little, but you were mighty. You were smart, yet funny. You hardly spoke, but when you did, it was always something memorable. You never seemed to hold your true self back. He already knew that you were Perfect for him, even if he’d hardly spoken to you. He just couldn’t help the sane part of him that was very weary of the whole situation.

As Jihoon debated his true feelings for you over his breakfast, the other wolves went and conversed with each other. They tried to speak to you too, but you never really had a lot to say. You preferred to listen, which they weren’t all that surprised at. Jihoon was the quiet, calm, smart wolf, so it’s no surprise that his mate was the same way. You’d both always seem to get lost in thought almost simultaneously. You’d both come back to Earth at the same time too, always with very similar excuses.

Though everytime your eyes met, you’d both look away, trying your best to hide the blushes that spread across both your cheeks. It was kind of cute and the pack loved that their brother wouldn’t have to be all alone any longer. He’d no longer have to just sit on the side lines while they all had the time of their lives. He now had you, even if you didn’t realize it yet. You could both be Lonely Together.

Another Author’s Note: I know this chapter is relatively short compared to the others I’ve written so far, but honestly, your girls tired as fuck. I work a full time job, go to school full time, and take care of a lot of my family’s household. Let’s just be lucky I can write at all. Plus, I wrote Wonwoo’s story earlier today too. So let’s just call it a success and I’ll write a better chapter for him next time!

(Updated 9/6)

#seventeen #seventeen angst #seventeen au #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #svt au #seventeen x reader #jihoon #woozi drabble #woozi fluff #woozi angst #svt woozi #seventeen woozi

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pixxiesdust · 4 years ago

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Crimson Snow (pt. 2) • Bakugou Katsuki

Summary • We all know the story of Little Red Riding Hood. But all stories, especially ones passed through spoken word, can change with time. This is the true story of a girl who wandered into the forest, wearing a cloak white as snow, and left on the back of a beast with a crimson cape trailing behind her.

Pairing • Shifter!Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Word Count • 4.4k

Tags and Warnings • Fairy tale AU, captivity, experimentation, violence, blood, swearing, mentions of nudity, eventual happy ending.

Note • This is part two of a fic for the @bnhabookclub Provisional License Exam Event! The lovely @im-here-for-the-heroes and @etegomanere beta read this fic and were lots of help. I hope you all will enjoy reading this part too!

part 1 • part 2 • part 3 • part 4

–

Warm huffs of air brush past the side of your head, heating one side of your face. Your head is resting on something that definitely isn’t the folded cloak you had initially laid down on hours ago. In fact, your cloak is draped over your body, keeping you warm.

You sit up slowly, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, and frown at the cloak as it slips off your shoulders. Did you wake up because of the cold and put it around yourself? Maybe, but you don’t remember waking up at all.

Looking down next to you, your body stiffens in surprise. You had been using the wolf’s front legs as a pillow! So that’s where the warm air came from: the exhales of the sleeping wolf.

You have no clue how you got onto his front legs and spread the cloak over yourself while you were sleeping, but you’re distracted as your stomach growls and clenches uncomfortably in hunger. It’s likely been a full day since you last ate. And the plate of scraps that the hunter left behind might be the only food you’ll have for another twenty-four hours.

So you get to your feet, still careful of putting your weight on your right one, and limp toward the plate. The chain stops you at a short distance away. You frown at the plate that the hunter placed on the wolf’s half of the room.

“He probably did that on purpose, the bastard,” you mutter as you sink to your knees and lay entirely on the ground, arms outstretched toward the plate.

Your fingertips brush against the rim of it, but no matter how hard you wiggle and reach, you can’t actually pull the plate toward you. The metal shackle around your left ankle starts to rub at your skin uncomfortably. Thank goodness you didn’t try to do this while the hunter was still here, or he’d probably get some sort of sick amusement from watching you struggle.

Sighing, you rest your forehead on the cold stone floor with a little thunk. The pain makes you wince, and you push yourself up with your forearms to stare forlornly at the plate. It doesn’t even look that good, you try to tell yourself, but your stomach growls again, reminding you of your hunger.

Movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention, and you turn onto your side so you’re facing the waking wolf.

“Morning,” you say, although you’re not confident in the time of day. Spending hours in a dungeon without windows is already throwing off your internal clock.

The wolf yawns, showing its sharp teeth, and for a moment, you wonder if it was wise to take off the silver band that had kept his muzzle shut. But then again, you had just slept right on top of him and he hadn’t bitten your head off or anything.

His mouth closes, and he gets to his feet, shaking his fur out in a motion that causes the chains on his limbs and collar to rattle. He pads toward you, but walks right past you to the plate of scraps, and you watch mournfully as he sniffs the air above the food.

Closing your eyes, you expect to hear the sounds of the wolf gulping down the food, but you hear something scrape across the stone floor instead. Your eyes pop open as the wolf nudges the plate toward you until it’s within your reach. As soon as you pull the plate toward you, the wolf turns away and settles back down in the spot he was in when he woke up.

“I– you– thank you!” you tell him, astonished. You sit up and fold your legs under you, rub your hands as best you can on your dress, and start digging into the food. There are pieces of bread crust on the plate, and you eat them first, taking large bites of it with relish even though it’s dry and scratches your throat as you swallow. You pair the bread crust with the boiled pieces of carrot, which are cold and a little slimy.

You’re about to start working on the scraps of meat left on your plate when your eyes drift over to the wolf. His eyes are closed and he looks to be asleep once again. His back rises and falls with every breath he takes, and as you study him, you see the protrusion of his ribs through his matted and dirty fur. You haven’t seen the hunter feed him since you were put in the dungeon with the wolf, you realize. And the wolf definitely has been through a lot more pain and torture than you.

You eye the bits of meat again. They look so appetizing even though they undoubtedly are scraps and leftovers. But the wolf had helped you get the plate instead of eating the food off it himself, and you should return the favor.

Nodding to yourself now that you’ve made up your mind, you get onto your feet, pick up the plate, and walk back over to the wolf. The chain rattles and bumps against the stones as you drag it along the floor beside you. Sitting down in front of the wolf, you slide the plate across the ground until it rests before his nose.

You can’t help but giggle as his nose twitches, no doubt smelling the food before him, but you still as his red eyes suddenly snap open to look into your own eyes. He seems to be glaring at you for laughing at him, and you hide your amusement at such a human-like response. He really is as smart as a human, you think.

But although the wolf seems tempted by the smell of the food, he nudges the plate back towards you.

You frown, then push the plate to him. “Eat,” you say sternly.

A quiet growl ripples in his throat as he slides the plate back to you.

You push the plate back at him and lean forwards. “This,” you say, pointing at the meat, “is yours!” You jab your finger at the wolf. “I already had half of the food, so it’s only fair that you get the other half. I’m certainly not going to just let you starve! You’ve definitely been here longer than me, and the stupid hunter treats you worse than he does me, so there’s no way that he’s been feeding you as much as he should. So you better eat it, because I certainly will not, and there’s no way that you can force me to.” With that, you huff out a breath, cross your arms across your chest, and stick your nose up in the air.

The wolf stares at you for a long moment. Then he slowly lowers his head and starts eating the pieces of food left on the plate.

“Good,” you say softly, letting your arms fall back to your side. Your stomach definitely isn’t full, but it warms you to see the wolf eating something too.

You lay down on the floor, moving an arm under your head. Staring up at the ceiling, your eyes follow the cracks in between the stones as you start talking.

“I miss home,” you say, voice quiet. You don’t notice the wolf looking up from his food. “I was on my way to visit Grandmother, you know, before the hunter snatched me off the road. She must be getting worried since I haven’t arrived yet. She’s not really my grandmother, but I’ve known her for years since my mother always took me to her when I was sick, and she insists I call her Grandmother.

“Anyways, I was going to bring her supplies from the village since she doesn’t like leaving her house for too long when the hunter caught me and brought me here. I normally stay at her house for a couple days, so my father won’t notice that I’m gone for a while. He’s been, um, distant, for a long time—ever since my mom died five years ago.” You swallow hard and close your eyes for a moment, picturing your mother’s smile.

“My dad just works every day and visits the tavern at night. He’s not a bad parent, really,” you say, looking at the wolf when he growls. “His grief just consumes him, and he has a hard time coping. I’ve learned to take care of myself, though! It-it probably doesn’t excuse him from being so absent, but I do understand his pain. She was his wife, but she was my mother.” Your voice cracks on the last word, and a tear slips out the corner of your eye and starts trailing down the side of your face.

You lay there in silence as the wolf finishes up the last bits of meat. After a few more tears escape, you huff out a shaky breath and wipe your face on the front of your dress. “I’m okay,” you say, more for yourself to hear than the wolf.

“Thanks for listening,” you tell him, moving closer to pick up the plate and set it off to the side, so the hunter hopefully won’t notice that you gave the wolf some of the food.

The wolf gets to his feet and pads toward you. Your eyes widen, but you don’t back away, waiting to see what he’ll do. His chains are pulled to their full length, but the wolf stretches his head out to gently nudge his nose into your shoulder. He bumps it once, twice, then backs away, pacing back and forth across the dungeon floor.

You watch him do this for a bit, the corners of your lips tilting upwards in a small smile. The wolf sometimes acts so human. That must have been why you told him about your mother and your father—something you haven’t talked to anyone except Grandma about in a very long time.

The wolf suddenly stops, ears perking up and tilting towards the doorway of the dungeon. A low growl fills the room. You stiffen. He’s coming. You lunge towards the cloth bandage and pick it up.

“C’mon!” you hiss at the wolf, who is already loping towards you with long strides. Unlike the previous time, you have to tie the makeshift bandage around his muzzle, which takes precious seconds as your fingers tremble with nerves. With the bandage secure, you grab the silver band and slide it over the wolf’s nose, tightening the sliding bolts once the metal rests over the cloth. “There,” you whisper, then quickly scoot back towards the wall, eyes trained on the doorway to the dungeon.

The hunter steps through the doorway, gloved hands tucked into crisply pressed pants. He stalks across the room, once again making his way to the table to pick up yet another syringe.

A sour taste fills your mouth. The wolf was in so much pain last time. And his pain seemed to increase with every single injection. How bad would it be now?

You get to your feet and start walking towards the wolf, hiding a wince every time you step on your right foot. It’s only been hours since you cut yourself on the glass pieces of the syringe, and though the cuts have stopped bleeding, it’s painful whenever you put weight on it. When you reach the wolf, you collapse to your knees and wrap your arms around his head, glaring at the hunter.

“Don’t you dare!” you shout.

The hunter grasps onto your right arm with his free hand and rips you away from the wolf, throwing you to the ground a few feet away. Your head bounces off the stone, and pain immediately radiates from the point of impact. He pushes the needle deep into the wolf’s neck and presses down on the plunger. The misty purple liquid drains out of the syringe and enters the wolf, who immediately starts shaking. A moment later, a pained howl rips from the wolf’s throat and bounces off the dungeon walls, only adding to the throbbing in your head.

Pulling the syringe away from the wolf’s neck, the hunter tosses the syringe onto the table instead of placing it back with his usual meticulousness. Instead, he picks up a knife off the wall of torture devices and stalks towards you as you push yourself to sit up from the ground. He’s moving so quickly that you can’t pull your hand away before his well-shined shoe crushes the fingers of your left hand, grinding bone into the stone floor.

His knife-free hand grabs your chin and tilts it up toward him. You’re stretched out, fingers trapped under his shoe while being pulled upward by your chin. “Do you have anything else to say? Beg for mercy?” the hunter asks, yellow eyes narrowing.

Pain runs from your fingers, up your arms, through your neck, only adding to the pain in your head. However, you are determined to stay strong and not give in to him. If you do, that just means you let him win. So you lock away the pain for a moment, letting a glare heat your eyes. “I would never beg to the likes of you. So as I said before, go screw yourself!”

“Then it is time for you to be punished,” the hunter says, dragging the tip of the knife lightly along your collarbone. “You brought this upon yourself, and no pleading can save you.”

He puts pressure on the knife, the sharp edge splitting your skin. It burns! You whimper and struggle in his grip, trying to pull away from him, but the hunter only presses down harder, drawing the knife across your collarbone. Something wet and thick flows from the wound, seeping into the neckline of your dress.

The hunter lifts his knife off your skin and moves to make another cut when the wolf struggles to his feet, growling. The wolf lunges for the hunter, butting his head into the hunter’s legs. Although the wolf’s muzzle is clamped shut by the silver band, the wolf somehow creates a gap in his teeth and bites at the hunter’s ankles. The hunter drops his knife in surprise, and the blade skitters across the stone floor until it hits the wall. He steps off your hand, whirling around to face the wolf. “You’re a filthy beast, and you clearly do not want to be saved. If your bite does anything to me, then I will be forced to dispose of you.”

He kicks the wolf hard, knocking him off his feet and sending him sprawling onto its side. Although you keep shouting for the hunter to stop, the hunter keeps kicking, even when the wolf is down, until a snap bounces off stone walls.

–

Chisaki Kai steps back, breathing heavily in anger and repulsion, then walks out of the room, blood oozing out of the bite in his ankle. He stalks into his living room, ripping the gloves off his hands and throwing them into the fireplace, watching as flames engulf the leather and consumes it in a burst of sparks. “Chronostasis!” he says, low and commanding, despite the sweat beading on his skin.

Chronostasis appears, with a new pair of gloves, some disinfectant, a clean towel, and fresh bandages. Chisaki Kai slips the gloves on, and his breaths start to level out as he sits on the couch and cleans out the bite from the wolf.

He knows shifters can’t turn humans into shifters just from a bite, but his skin still crawls at the thought of the filthy wolf’s teeth sinking into his skin. Pouring the disinfectant over the wound, he does not flinch at the sting of alcohol, and wipes the blood away with the towel before wrapping it up with a bandage.

Chisaki Kai stands up and faces Chronostasis. “The shifter is acting more repulsive than usual. So is the girl. But a couple more doses of the nightshade formula should get rid of the wolf forever.”

–

You wince as your fingers gently touch the edge of the cut that the hunter left in your skin. Blood has trickled down your collarbone until it seeped into the white of your dress, staining the lace and cloth of the neckline a vivid crimson. Your left hand is throbbing from being crushed under the hunter’s shoe, but right now, you’re more concerned about the wolf.

He saved you from the hunter’s torture, although he had just been injected by the purple substance that caused him pain. He even bit the hunter, even though he must have hurt himself more to get his jaws open in the silver band. And the hunter had retaliated, kicking the wolf over and over again. You think you heard the snap of bone, maybe a rib that had cracked from the force.

So you crawl over to the wolf, who has fallen unconscious and whimpers with every exhale, and gently press your lips to his head. “Thank you,” you whisper as tears well up in your eyes. “Thank you.”

There’s nothing you can do for him except to lift his head onto your lap and remove the silver band. A sob escapes your mouth as you catch sight of the bandage underneath. The white has been eaten up by red, and blood is starting to seep into his fur.

You rip up two strips of cloth from your dress and remove the current bandage, tears dripping down your face when you see the deep gash that rings his muzzle as a result of struggling to open his mouth to save you. The first piece of cloth almost immediately soaks through with blood, so you layer the next bandage on top. It’s not much, but the wolf’s whimpers eventually taper off.

You don’t understand why the wolf saved you like that—wasn’t he just an animal? You shouldn’t have mattered to him. But he did save you, and he paid the price, so you can only keep him as comfortable as possible and keep watch as he rests.

With his head in your lap and your hand stroking the fur between his ears, your eyelids get heavier and heavier; it’s a struggle to open them back up again after every blink. Eventually, lulled by the deep breaths of the wolf, you doze off, head nodding forwards, drifting away from the pain in your head, your hand, and your heart.

–

You come to with a jolt, body jerking upwards as you prevent yourself from crashing onto the floor. Next time, you note, don’t fall asleep sitting up.

There’s a weight in your lap, and you remember resting the wolf’s head there, but when you look down, you blink once, twice. Then you rub at your eyes with the back of your hand—your fingers are crusted over with red from your blood and the wolf’s blood.

He’s still there.

No, not the wolf. The young man with his head of spiky blonde hair right between your legs. “What the hell?” you hiss, heart pounding in your chest as you scramble to push his head off you—though you do take care to not let his head hit the ground hard.

And then your eyes travel down from this- this stranger’s head and trace over an exposed and sculpted neck, chest, torso, and–

Your face is getting warmer, and you turn your head away, but your eyes slide back over to the expanse of skin and muscle that are littered with scars and cuts and dirt and blood. You hesitate when he shivers and curls in on himself, then you unclasp your cloak from your shoulders and drape it over his body.

He shifts as the cloth settles down around him, and his eyes slowly open, still heavy with sleep. You quickly scoot back so that you’re not within reach. “Who are you?” you ask, questions spilling out of your mouth, “How did you get here? What happened to the wolf? Why are you not wearing clothes?”

He sits up before looking down at himself, spotting your cloak that has now slipped down to his waist. You keep your eyes steadily on his face, not letting them stray to his chest. His eyes move up to meet yours, and you notice that they’re an unusual crimson. The last time you’d seen eyes like that was—the wolf. And his hair! It’s wild and sticks up all over the place, but the blonde is very similar to the wolf's coat. But that’s not possible, is it?

His lips curl up in a smirk as he sees your eyes widen in recognition, then disbelief. “I’m Bakugou Katsuki, and it’s a name you better not forget.”

“You’re–” you stutter, trying to figure out how to word the thoughts in your head without him, Bakugou, thinking that you’re crazy. “Are you–”

“–a werewolf?” he finishes for you, crossing his arms over his chest. “No, dumbass, that’s a made-up term for stories and fairytales. We call ourselves shifters.”

“‘We?’ So there’s more of you.”

Bakugou nods but doesn’t elaborate. He’s sure that you won’t betray him to Overhaul—he hasn’t smelled deception on you since you were thrown into the dungeon with him—but he has learned to be cautious anyway. Too much pain can loosen nearly anyone’s lips.

You’re a little disappointed that you can’t learn more about a whole new type of people that basically have been living in your backyard. “So how’d you end up here?” you ask instead.

Bakugou shifts to a more comfortable position. You avert your eyes when he rearranges the cloak around him, but look back at him when he starts speaking. He tells you of the trap the hunter—Overhaul, you learn—and Chronostasis set up for a group of the younger shifters. Recovery Girl had told them–

“Wait, wait! Did you say Recovery Girl? She’s Shuuzenji Chiyo, right? But she’s Grandmother, the one I was going to visit!”

“Yeah, she’s our healer. But stop fucking interrupting me! Do you want me to continue? Huh?”

You suppress a smile at his curses. Just a few minutes of speaking with him told you that he regularly used them in his speech, though he usually didn’t use them with the intent to hurt feelings. Those words are just how he expresses himself. “Sorry, Bakugou! Please continue.”

“Yeah, yeah, so anyway…” Recovery Girl had told the shifters that wildlife has been found dead in one section of the forest for a while, though most of the carcasses are untouched. It didn’t seem like a big deal at the time, so Bakugou and other young shifters were sent to investigate.

When they got to the area and spread out to start looking for the animals, Overhaul and Chronostasis attacked. They had gone for one of Bakugou’s friends—though Bakugou insisted that he wasn’t “friends with that Shitty Hair!”—and Bakugou jumped in front of his friend to take the arrow. His friends had tried to fight back against Overhaul and Chronostasis, but they had used Bakugou as a hostage.

“...and those fuckers put me down here, and I haven’t been out since. It’s been two weeks now, and they give me those injections at least once a day.”

You exhale heavily. Although Bakugou has a fierce scowl on his face and sounds angry, you think he’s glad that his friends got away, even at his expense. “What is Overhaul trying to do to you with those injections? They look painful every time.”

Bakugou scoffs, tugging at the collar around his neck. “No shit, they’re painful. It’s something that includes wolfsbane, which hurts wolf shifters if it gets in our bodies. In high enough doses, they can kill one completely.

“But he just gives a little each time when I’m in my wolf form to try and ‘purify’ me from being a shifter. I couldn’t fucking hold my wolf form anymore after the last one, which is why I shifted in my sleep.”

Your eyes widen. As cruel as you thought Overhaul was back when you only knew Bakugou as a wolf, it’s even more inhumane that he’s trying to remove an entire half of Bakugou’s identity. “Will you be able to shift back? In a bit?”

“Yeah,” he rasps in response, “But if Overhaul keeps it up for long, I won’t be able to shift at all.”

“Oh.”

The two of you fall silent for a while, lost in thought. Bakugou’s fists clench and unclench every once in a while, as if he’s attempting to shift. At this rate, he’s going to cut his own hands with his nails, so you decide to try and distract him.

“Don’t you want to know how I ended up here?” you ask.

“I can remember every damn thing that happens in my wolf form, so your life story a couple hours ago was plenty.”

“You- you remember everything?”

“That’s what I said, didn’t I?” Bakugou looks up at you and smirks. “Why, getting embarrassed now?”

The moments you spent with the wolf flash through your mind. Stroking his head. Bandaging him. Kissing his forehead. “Oh, goodness, no,” you moan, burying your face in your hands.

He snickers at your flustered response. “Oh, hell, yes.”

You spend the next few moments in silence, waiting until you’re less embarrassed and are ready to face him again. You lift your head back up. “So, what now? Do you have a plan to get out of here?

Bakugou stares at you, then snarls, “Of course I have a plan! What do you think I spend all my time doing here, huh? Dreaming about daisies or some frilly shit like that? Here’s my fucking plan: remove these stupid chains,” he rattles the ones around his wrists for emphasis, “and leave this fucking place!”

You blink at him, once, then twice. “Is that it?”

“You got a problem with that?”

“No, no! Not at all! I was just hoping for something more...specific?”

Bakugou scoffs. “The details are up here,” he taps the side of his head, then places his hand on his knee and leans forward. His red eyes lock onto yours, keeping your attention. “But things can change, so they could end up being useless anyway.”

“Hm, okay,” you say. “You kind of have a point. So get out of these chains, and get out of this place. When do we start?”

“Of course I have a point. Pick up that knife over there.” He nods toward the knife Overhaul was using on you, that had skittered across the ground when Bakugou bit him.

“We start now.”

–

Taglist • @steggy4ever @tspice283 @wesparklebitch

#boku no hero academia #bnha oneshot #bnhabookclub #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #type: text #type: fanfic #fanfic: series #series: crimson snow #type: anime #anime: boku no hero academia #ch: bakugou katsuki #fanfic: au #au: fantasy #my writing #my writing: fic

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forasecondtherewedwon · 4 years ago

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Fourth Coming

Fandom: The Wilds Rating: T Word Count: 2157

Summary: And on the twenty-third day, Nora ate goat and thought about love.

Nora sees the experiment through two lenses, like the red and blue acetate in those cheap 3D glasses. One lens is the scientific, the other is the brutal. When she puts these metaphorical glasses on, she’s just there, in the middle of it, but when she’s feeling particularly tired (understandably often) or just relaxed (inexplicably often—a fact to be concealed from the others), she shifts between the two views. Each is sharper alone than they are combined.

Scientific: counting the days; subtly taking her own inventory of the rations; monitoring Fatin’s dehydration, the commensurate level of distrust the rest of the group have for her.

Brutal: cold fingers in wet, black sand, disinterring Jeanette’s grave; Dot’s tumbling, shivering recount of spearing and battering a snake; ralphing, ralphing, ralphing bad mussels.

It isn’t until the goat that these contrary perspectives finally attain a kind of beautiful balance in Nora’s brain. And it isn’t her thoughts, or rereading one of her journal entries, that has her mental clouds clearing. Actually, it’s what Leah says. About barbecues and normalcy and the Fourth of July. Leah’s remark—possibly offhand, certainly poisonous, even if Nora can’t see how yet—gracelessly and unselfconsciously reveals the barbarism of order. A social gathering on the same day each year, centered around fire (fireworks, sure, but Nora is amazed by how dazzled people are by something not so very far advanced from what had the cavepeople oohing and awwing) and the cooking of meat. Ritual is the summit at which the scientific and the brutal join hands.

The day doesn’t matter. (Every day could have been June 29th and what difference would that have made for them on this island?) The conditions of their environment haven’t changed. (No major shift in the seasons or significant weather patterns, just the single freakish high tide.) The slaughter of the goat and the subsequent cookout should be put down to chance, Nora knows. Toni, Martha, and Shelby decided to look for food. Martha happened to find the goat. She happened to lay her hands on a tool that could do the job. She happened to be successful. And now, miraculous barbecue in honour of… what?

Nora’s sure that most of the girls would say the feast is in honour of themselves, their power, their survival. All of that would really put a spit-shine on Gretchen’s mission statement, but Nora’s not just an agent, a plant, a spy, a wolf in castaway’s clothing. She seeks to understand as much as she always has. She wonders if Shelby thanks god for the goat, or eats it as a form of praise. Nora constantly spots her toying with the cross on her necklace, frequently in a way that holds it far from her throat, almost like she’s thinking about ripping the necklace off and hurling it into the ocean. That would be going a bit far, but then, so is hacking your hair off because a brush got stuck.

Their ritual could be the sacrifice of another creature in the hopes of sparing themselves—a kind of desperate, gasping celebration. Privately, Nora decides they’re celebrating love. Leah’s persistent aura of tragic romance is part of the inspiration for that, but she isn’t part of either of the two developing relationships Nora’s been observing.

Martha’s picking at her goat meat glumly, so Nora rises and goes over to her. Her gait is unsteady on this sand and on these legs, weakened over the past two days of starvation, but it’s enough to carry her until she can slump down next to Martha. Sweet and strong, vulnerable and clearly capable (judging by the sizzle of fat dripping from the roasting goat leg and hitting the fire), Martha smiles when Nora joins her. Nora smiles back and that’s enough between them for a few minutes.

Nora watches the browned meat, nearly allowing herself to be hypnotized by the texture that urges her to sink her teeth in, the crispy spots she knows would taste incredible. But she can’t gorge herself; her stomach needs to be cool about what she’s already eaten or the chewed up goat goes the way of the slurped mussels Rachel found.

Carefully, Nora turns her head to study Martha. She decides that what this girl needs is the same thing Leah needed on Day 12 when she was sitting alone on the beach: some kind of dirty joke. Since she’s fresh out of filthy material of the Christmas variety, Nora tells Martha, “One second,” and heaves herself up again. She comes back dragging Marcus. He’ll be her muse, but it’s also a reunion of lovers.

“You two could get married,” Nora tells Martha. “Shelby said she was an ordained youth minister, remember?”

They laugh and it’s softer than the crackle of the fire. Nora likes that. The steady, rolling sound of their laughs together. How they taper off, unlike the ceaseless noise of breaking waves that drives Nora insane whenever she surfaces from her numbness to the sound. Like becoming conscious of your breathing and working like hell to stop noticing it, because having to purposefully regulate every breath is exhausting and terrifying.

Martha frowns a little in consideration, then half-smiles.

“Nah. I don’t know if I’m ready to commit like that. I think this could just be a fling. All those abs and he didn’t come help me haul that goat.”

“That’s true.” When Martha gazes at the mannequin, Nora assesses Marcus as well. “And it’s not like you’d want to keep him around because he gives great head.”

“He might’ve once,” Martha defends, brushing hair out of her face when a breeze kicks up, “but he gave so much head that there’s none left for me.”

They catch each other staring at the clean line where Marcus’s neck ends and nothing rests above it and trip into laughter again. Though Nora feels like she accomplished her dirty joke, Martha made it even better. People have underestimated her. Nora’s noted it from the start. It’s probably because Martha was injured. Group dynamics were established quickly and have formed and reformed in the days and weeks since, but Day 1 showed them the rawest version of who they are together and, before they knew about Jeanette, Martha was the weak one. Have the others seen her role evolve like Nora has? Are Nora’s observations anything special, really?

“This is totally not a judgement thing or anything,” Nora says, meaning it. “I was just wondering if you were maybe going to wash your clothes. Or change them.”

“Oh.”

Martha looks down at herself and now Nora’s glad she said something; it doesn’t seem like Martha was really aware that she’s been sitting here crusted in drying blood. Nora weighs the acceptability of a period joke and decides against it.

“You don’t have to,” she assures Martha, raising a gentle hand. “It just seemed like maybe the, uh, the slaughtering process? Was kind of a mindfuck?”

“Yeah.” Martha stares straight ahead and lets out a short laugh that Nora doesn’t join her in. “I’m glad Marcus wasn’t there to see. He might not’ve come back the same.”

Nora peers at her a moment, then resolves to just say what she’s thinking.

“Did you?”

Turning her head, Martha looks at Nora and her smile’s the same, but her eyes are different. No, Nora would write in the journal. The answer is plain. Maybe she’ll record it on paper later and maybe she won’t. Looking into Martha’s eyes, Nora knows she won’t need help remembering this.

“I’m just living my best life,” Martha tells her, batting the ends of her hair with her hand.

It sounds like something Fatin would say in this moment, or at least have printed on a t-shirt or something—it’s flip and glib—and for the very reason that it reminds Nora of Fatin, she’s certain that Martha not only means the silly words sincerely but that she feels the kind of truth in the trope, the mindfulness in the meme, that Fatin fights so hard to experience herself. Fatin is deeper than that ocean over there and Martha is a girl scooping out the sand in front of her mannequin boyfriend, digging him a sturdy trench to rest in so she can lean back against his factory-sculpted physique, painted in the blood of her first kill.

For whatever reason, Marcus is the man Martha wants. Nora can’t imagine him becoming anyone else’s property after all this is over.

“Do you want a lychee instead?” she offers. Martha’s flat-out ignoring her leaf-plate of meat now.

“Maybe in a minute.”

She turns her dreamy eyes away from where she’s rubbing a streak of dirt off Marcus’s bicep. Nora follows her gaze to Shelby, who seems to be counting out and partitioning the lychee haul, looking to Dot from time to time. Dot isn’t interfering, just giving encouraging nods when Shelby seeks them out. And of course Toni’s watching too.

“You think they’re telling the truth?” Nora inquires bluntly. “That whole ‘wrong turn in the woods’ story?”

Martha shrugs and says, “Yeah,” but Fatin scootches towards them, evidently drawn by the hum of gossip in the air.

“Are you talking about Toni and Shelby?” she asks, but it’s more of a demand. Her eyes are bright and excited, her mouth grinning, and Nora knows that a lot of that effect is thanks to their first meal in days, but it astounds her how socializing lights Fatin up as much as it used to shut Nora down.

“No,” Martha says quickly, but no faster than Nora’s flat, “Yes.”

“Dope. Yeah, those two are a hundred percent lying.”

“Are you sure?” Nora asks.

She’s not, but the cameras will be. Seeing the footage afterwards isn’t something she negotiated on when Gretchen made her part of the team. Speculation, though less scientific, is much more fun.

Fatin rolls her eyes like Nora’s questioning the laws of gravity. (She blinks and sees the poster of Newton. Sees Newton seeing the apple. Her throat closes up until she softly coughs it clear.)

“Definitely,” Fatin says. “Even if they were just out there all day picking fruit, it’s still the most sapphic thing I’ve ever heard. It’s, like, biblically sapphic.”

Martha laughs.

“Uhhh, sorry, which version of the Bible did you read?”

Nora smiles broadly and looks from Martha’s expression of brimming joy to Fatin’s concentrated delight. Like she’s on to something and whether or not she’s right is beside the point. That kind of approach makes Nora pleasantly dizzy. She remembers being little, standing at a department store perfume counter she couldn’t see over while her mom spritzed scents on her wrists that floated down to Nora’s nose. Fruit and flowers and anything and everything that could make the air beautiful when a woman walked into a room.

“None, but come on, there’s the garden, right? I know some shit. The marketing for this retreat was super Christian-centric anyway. We’re out here representing the fucking Dawn of Eve!” Fatin gestures triumphantly around at their dismal (except for the goat) camp. “If those two bitches weren’t getting their freak on under a fruit tree last night, I’ll eat my gold watch.”

Nora scrutinizes the girls in question.

“Shelby does look especially glowy today.”

“Maybe she’s born with it, maybe it’s chronic sun damage,” Martha singsongs.

“Maybe it’s what Toni did to those mussels with her tongue,” Fatin acknowledges frankly, “because Shelby sure as hell didn’t borrow my hundred-dollar highlighter. That shit got swept out to sea.”

Fatin trains her eyes on Shelby while Martha watches Toni, and Nora watches both of them watch the others. When they switch subjects in a moment of unvoiced agreement, Toni jerks her head up and spots Fatin staring at her. The tender gazes she’s been throwing Shelby’s way over the low mound of red fruit tighten into suspicion.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Toni barks, and a laugh sputters from Fatin as she raises her hands to show she means no harm.

“Ok,” Martha says to Fatin and Nora, giggling. “I see it now. Something happened between Shelby and Toni yesterday. Some kind of hunter-gatherer romance.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve taken the ‘hunter’ title away from Shelby,” Nora points out.

“Well, whatever. Gatherer-gatherer then.”

“With an island colony of all women, it was only a matter of time,” is Fatin’s pragmatic take. “Another couple weeks without an orgasm and I would’ve fucked Toni myself.”

“It wasn’t just time,” Martha scoffs, tipping her head to the side. “It’s love.”

“It’s both,” Nora says. She could prove it to them, flourish the statistics she’s been tracking in her journal. How those bald numbers lie there next to the drawings that spill to the edge of the page. She’s made bedfellows of data and emotions. She just sits there and grins at them. “It’s the aphrodisiacal influence of the Fourth of July.”

#my writing #The Wilds #Nora Reid #Martha Blackburn #Fatin Jadmani #Toni x Shelby #The Wilds fanfiction #The Wilds spoilers

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ravenbrenna09 · 4 years ago

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Jij Verliest - Chapter Seven: Clip 1&2

master list

...

Zaterdag 4:27

Robbe was hot.

The realization pulled him from his dreams, bringing him into reality in his bedroom, with only one thing running through his half-asleep brain: hot. Below the surface of his skin, he could feel the wildfire bubbling and increasing with intensity. Robbe reached out, feeling the pressure of one hand against his other arm. Even still waking up, fighting off the initial wave of grogginess, he could feel the flush of his skin, the sweat forming on it.

In addition to the burning of his skin, there was a heavy pressure against Robbe’s back. It was solid, heavy, and overbearingly warm. There was a similar, but lighter, pressure along his waist. The two added to the intensity of his body heat, increasing it so much that he couldn’t fall back asleep. While Robbe’s sleep-induced mind was certain of “why,” his heart swelled tenfold with ease and certainty.

Seeking the sweet reprieve of cooler air, Robbe shifted away from the warm pressure. Cold air swept over his shoulders and back, giving him the relief that he needed. But, behind him, he heard a small whine and the bed shifted beneath him. As quickly as it had vanished, the warmth returned, pressing against his back and waist, and Robbe realized with a start that he was being pulled back across the bed.

For the first time since waking up, Robbe opened his eyes.

As Robbe tried to get his bearings, he glanced around the bedroom in confusion. There were only two sources of light in the room. The lamp on his desk, which he had forgotten to turn off and the bright red numbers on the alarm clock—4:27. It was still a little too early for the sun to rise and Robbe could still see the stars beginning to dim.

But, even with the minimal lighting, he could make out the clothes scattered across the floor. Robbe’s deep green shirt was on the floor, cast aside, and there was a black one near the window, balled up. There was a pair of deep blue skinny jeans on the floor, partially covering one Doc Marten. He found the other shoe cast aside near the edge of the bed, with Robbe’s jeans pooling beside them.

Just like that, Robbe’s sleepy mind snapped to attention and all hints of drowsiness were wiped from his brain. Once the sleep had disappeared, his mind started to remember everything from last night in slow motion. Sander showing up at the apartment and kissing him as though his life depended on it. Robbe pulling off Sander’s shirt, Sander doing the same, falling on the bed—and it all led to them collapsing on the sheets and Sander falling asleep before Robbe did.

Sander.

Needing to see Sander with his own eyes, Robbe slowly twisted onto his back. Unlike Robbe, Sander was still sleeping. His cheek was squished against the pillow and his bleach-blond hair was sticking in all directions, only partially because of Robbe’s hands. The sheets were bunched up around his waist, and his right arm, covered with all of his tattoos, was draped over his waist.

Turning toward him fully, Robbe stared.

In the few times that they had fallen asleep in the same bed, Robbe had always been the first one to fall asleep and the second one to wake up. So he had never been allowed to see Sander like this, relaxed and peaceful. Sleeping, Sander was stripped of what he showed the world and left with only him. He looked vulnerable and exposed, but still so beautiful and Sander. Robbe’s eyes found the tattoo on his shoulder—a large wolf that covered his upper arm and his shoulder, protective and menacing—and the words of ink on his ribcage that were partially covered by his arm.

Robbe lost track of how long he stared at him, his finger tracing along the outline of the wolf’s face. He saw the way Sander’s nose scrunched in his sleep and how he pressed his cheek further against the pillow. He saw how Sander’s mouth fell open a little before closing and how he clung unconsciously to Robbe’s waist in his sleep. Unaware of Robbe’s eyes lingering on him, Sander continued to sleep soundly and Robbe continued to watch him.

Then, all at once, Robbe’s body reminded him why he was awake in the first place. A hot flash shot through his body, making the comforting warmth of Sander’s skin against his own nearly unbearable. Robbe wanted to get out of bed, check the thermostat in the hall, and get a glass of ice-cold water. He needed something, anything, to cool down just a little, to get him relaxed enough to go back to sleep.

At the same time, he didn’t want to leave Sander’s side. If he left, Robbe was worried that he would return to an empty bed and find that Sander was simply a product of his imagination—a comfort he had conjured to deal with the fact Sander never texted him. It was illogical, but Robbe knew how powerful the brain could be on occasions and how strong his anxiety could be.

The mere thought of ice-cold water to cool his burning skin was too tempting to pass up.

Shifting slowly, Robbe edged himself out from Sander’s arm. First, he slipped one leg out from under the cover before swinging the second one out. Sander’s arm slipped from Robbe’s waist, falling lightly onto the cushions beneath it. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Robbe grabbed his briefs and slipped them on. Just in case Jonathan or Milan were still up, he grabbed a t-shirt for good measure.

As Robbe smoothed the fabric over his waist, he felt a featherlight touch on his wrist. The touch was so soft that he almost thought he imagined it until there was a gentle squeeze on his skin. Glancing down, he spotted a hand—Sander’s hand—holding lightly to his wrist and he pivoted to find Sander looking up at him.

Though he was awake, Robbe could still see the drowsiness in Sander’s eyes as he blinked sleepily up at Robbe. Despite sleeping for so long, there were large bags under his eyes. Sitting up on one arm, Sander looked on the verge of falling back asleep, the exhaustion present on his face. Before Robbe could ask him if he wanted anything from the kitchen, Sander swallowed before whispering, “Are you going to leave me?”

The softness in his voice—and the insecurity laced in his question—caught Robbe off guard. Since the moment they had met at the bar, Sander had been nothing but confident. He sat down beside a stranger to comfort him. He boldly stared at Robbe from across the bar because he could and asked him out on a date because he could. He told Robbe that he was beautiful on their first outing and took it a step forward and kissed Robbe later that week. Everything Sander had ever done was confident. It had never crossed his mind that Sander could be as insecure as Robbe was.

Shaking his head, Robbe bent down. “Never,” he whispered. Sander let out a hum, his eyelids seemingly heavy. “I got hot so I was going to get some water from the kitchen. Did you want some?”

Sander was silent for a moment before shaking his head. Before he climbed off the bed, Robbe bent down to press a kiss to his eyelids. Sander let out another small hum before tilting his head up and their lips connected. This kiss was chaste, so different from their heated kisses hours ago, but Robbe always loved these kinds of kisses just as much.

“I’ll be back in a second,” Robbe whispered.

“Hurry back,” Sander whispered, silently pleading.

When Robbe returned, a glass of ice-water in his hands, Sander had laid back down in the bed. He was dressed in his black t-shirt (and likely his briefs), but he’d returned to the same position as before. Once Robbe climbed into the bed, Sander snuggled into his side, laying his head on his chest, and wrapped his arms around Robbe’s waist. Within moments, Sander fell asleep again as Robbe dragged his fingers through his messy hair.

Letting out a sigh and holding Sander tighter, Robbe succumbed to the blissful comfort of sleep with Sander wrapped his arms.

…

Zaterdag 10:23

When Robbe woke up again, the sun had risen over the buildings across the street. The sunlight stretched across the bedroom, lighting a direct path to the bed. The warm light swam over their remaining discarded clothes across the floor. It also reached the lower half of the bed, warming the sheets twisted around their intertwined legs.

Sometime in the night, he and Sander had shifted again.

Sander was flat on his back with his right arm covering his eyes. His left arm was trapped between the bed and Robbe’s stomach. Robbe was tucked into his neck with one arm draped across Sander’s chest, holding him tightly. There was a fistful of Sander’s black t-shirt in his hand. Sander’s nose was pressed flush against his temple and his sleepy breaths caressed Robbe’s cheekbone.

As Robbe sat up, gathering his bearings, he could hear the sound of clattering in the kitchen—Jonathan’s voice and Milan’s high-pitched squeals, which meant he was being tickled—and the smell of eggs and sausage in the air. Oh right, Robbe thought. Jonathan was supposed to be cooking breakfast. At the mere mention of Jonathan’s delectable cooking, Robbe’s mouth began to water and his stomach let out a growl. The thought of Jonathan’s cooking, especially his omelets, was enough to increase the intensity in which he drooled.

When was the last time that Robbe had eaten? Glancing over at Sander, who was still asleep, Robbe had to wonder when Sander last ate. Was it his “lunch” break, which was probably dinner? Did he get some food on his way here? Or did he come straight to the flatshare?

Biting down on his lip, Robbe made his decision.

Carefully, he lifted himself off of Sander’s chest. As Robbe rose from the bed, Sander moved beneath him, stretching his limbs. Robbe paused where he was, waiting for the arm against his face to move, to see Sander’s green eyes blinking up at him, but it never happened. Sander turned over so his back faced the approaching sun and wrapped his other arm around himself, letting out a muffled whine. Unable to resist, Robbe placed a kiss against Sander’s clothed shoulder before climbing out of bed.

Once Robbe stepped into the hallway, closing his bedroom door softly so he wouldn’t disturb the sleeping Sander, Milan’s voice got louder. He was giggling and Robbe could hear Jonathan’s deep bass laugh mixed in. As he stepped closer into the kitchen, he found Jonathan trying to feed Milan a spoonful of something and Milan struggling to get away from him.

“No, no, Jonathan, I’ll eat anything that you cook and think it’s amazing. I’m hardly the person to tell you whether you need more spices,” Milan said, trying to back away. Despite this, he was grinning from ear-to-ear and was leaning back on the back two feet of his chair, nearly toppling onto the kitchen floor.

“Yes, I would ask Zoë about her tastebuds because she’s got the best ones of all of you,” Jonathan said, matter-of-factly. Robbe grinned as he watched the two of them bicker. Despite being the shorter of the two, Jonathan managed to tower menacingly over the sitting Milan, who looked on the edge of tipping over. “But she’s out of the apartment and I need a second opinion.”

“What’s going on here?” Robbe asked.

The two men in the kitchen turned to him. Now that Jonathan wasn’t on the offensive, Milan settled back into his chair, no longer teetering on the edge of falling. As Jonathan turned toward him, Milan called, “Robbe, run for your life or you’re next!”

Jonathan rolled his eyes at his boyfriend’s antics. “Please, Robbe’s tastebuds might be better than yours. But even if it was the single worst thing he ever tasted, Robbe would tell me that it was amazing.” Milan made a face—one that meant he agreed—and Robbe couldn’t refute his statement because it was true. Jonathan returned to the food on the stove and turned to Robbe. “How was your night?”

Under Jonathan and Milan’s knowing gaze, Robbe felt his cheeks flush in intensity. “Umm… it was good,” he said, swallowing. “How was the party? Did Vincent murder you for being extremely late?”

Milan wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “No, he was incredibly understanding,” Milan said, patting the empty chair next to him. “You’re not getting out of this one, baby bird. I can see all the hickeys forming on your neck from here. Come on, sit down, and tell Milan all about it. And don’t skimp on any of the details because you look like you had a fun night.” Robbe rolled his eyes, leaning against the door frame. “At least tell me why he got cold all of a sudden.”

Robbe swallowed. “We haven’t talked about it yet,” he said.

“Robbe—”

“I know, Milan,” Robbe said before Milan could say another word. “And I’m going to ask him about it. I just… when I saw he was here and that he was choosing to be with me. I got overwhelmed and we started kissing. Before I could think of asking, we were…” Robbe cut himself off with a cough, feeling his cheeks heat up. “After… he just looked so exhausted and he fell asleep—and he still is.”

“Well,” Milan said, straightening up. “Wake him up and we’ll get answers.”

“No,” Robbe said, shaking his head. Still at the stove, Jonathan started piling food onto one of their plates and Milan raised an eyebrow toward Robbe. “No, no, I’m not letting you interrogate him before I get a chance to ask him. If you want to play my overprotective dad or overprotective rich uncle—whichever you decide—you can do so at dinner.”

“Is he joining us for dinner?” Jonathan asked.

“I hope so,” Robbe admitted. Jonathan turned toward him, handing him the plate. There were at least two helpings of everything on the plate and Robbe stared at the plate with wide eyes. Jonathan moved across the kitchen in search of a fork. “After being apart from him all week, I want him to. But I don’t know about his work and everything. He could have a shift at the parlor or something.”

“Let me know,” Jonathan said, handing him two forks. “Go on—and make sure he tries the potatoes.”

Before Robbe stepped out of the kitchen, Milan called his name. Robbe paused halfway out the door, clutching onto the plate for dear life. “Don’t think you’re getting away from this conversation,” Milan said sternly. For a second, he thought that Milan was talking about the conversation with Sander—about why he pulled away so suddenly—but then his self-appointed guru wiggled his eyebrows and Robbe knew that he was talking about the sex.

“Goodbye Milan.”

“I’m just trying to keep you safe!”

...

Note: While my plan was to normally post Saturday and Sunday’s clips, I decided to only upload the first two clips of Saturday. The next clip is the conversation between Robbe and Sander and I wanted to post it with edits. I promise that it’ll come tomorrow and later on I will post an update with a schedule for this week.

Also sorry for updating late. I literally just got home and into wifi and we’ve still got to unpack and my mom’s looking at me like “COME ON AND HELP.”

#wtfock #wtfam #jij verliest #jij verliest fic #chapter seven #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #sobbe #rosander #twitch streamer!robbe #tattoo artist!sander

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rohad93 · 4 years ago

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Worth the Fight

Medival Au, cause i am nothing if not predictable in what i like to write about. dont expect these updates as quickly as MM. im still working out the plot.

Trees, fields, and more, big surprise, more fields. Sometimes she spotted the occasional wild animal scampering through the grass, though that was the most interesting thing she’d seen so far.

”Are we there yet?” Luz asked for the third time in an hour as she and Eda trudged along the dirt road they had been following for two days as it wound through the fields and forests of the countryside.

“Do you see the city?” Eda asked as she glanced at her apprentice out of the corner of her eye.

“No…”

“Then we’re not there yet!” Eda threw up her arms. “Kid, relax, we’ll get there when we get there, I know you’re tired, I’m tired, hell, King is tired.” She gestured to the demonic dire wolf trotting along beside them, tongue lolling out of his mouth. His black fur shined in the sun but was near blinding against the white fur on the top of his head that created a distinct skull-like pattern across the top of his face.

“Poor baby…,” Luz cooed as she reached out and scratched the space between his horns, making his tail wag.

“He’ll live….” Eda rolled her eyes. “but you might not if you ask me if ‘we’re there yet’ one more time,” she grumbled, adjusting the light plate armor on her shoulders. It was the height of summer and as used to traveling in the stuff as she was, she was still baking under the sweltering midday sun.

Luz just pouted as they walked along. The leather of her boots was rubbing raw spots on the soles of her feet with each mile they walked.

Two days ago Eda had shaken her awake from where she and King had been lying curled up in a pile of hay. The seventeen-year-old had been half asleep and had missed most of what the older woman had been saying to her, just trying to keep her eyes open as Eda rambled on and shoved their meager belongings into an old rucksack.

What she managed to glean from the rapid-paced, one-sided conversation was something about a job, money, and leaving town, which did catch her attention.

They had been to a lot of towns over the years she had been training under Eda, and some were definitely better than others in terms of how the locals treated humans, but the one they had been staying in for the last year was probably the worst of them all. It got to the point that when Eda went to meet potential clients for jobs, Luz had to stay behind because they would take one look at Luz trailing behind her and decide that no matter the older woman’s reputation with a blade, they didn’t want the human girl around.

They’d see her rounded ears and sneer, glaring down their noses at her. Surely any self-respecting witch or sell-sword worth her salt wouldn’t be letting a human follow her around. Eda would say something snarky that almost always resulted in a near brawl and Luz would stick her tongue out at them as Eda stomped away, grumbling colorful words under her breath.

Eda was on her side, but it eventually boiled down to being able to eat and Luz decided it was best to just stay behind, even though it meant she wouldn’t get much in the way of training in swordsmanship or the combat magic that went along with it, not that she could actually do the same kind of combat magic that was natural to Witch’s anyway, being human.

As Eda had once explained it to her, witches had an extra organ, a bile sac, she wasn't entirely sure that's what it was actually called, she learned a long time ago that Eda had a tendency to make things up if she didn't know the answer. Supposedly it was an extra organ that allowed witches to absorb the natural magical energy of their world and use it to add powerful effects to items, especially weapons. Those that did were witch knights, the strongest and some of the most respected members of society, and Luz wanted so badly to be one, to prove that she was worth something, human or not, but without a bile sac, she was lacking the magical aspect, which left her at a distinct disadvantage. Heck, she didn’t even have a real sword, so she couldn’t even do the most basic jobs to help Eda feed the three of them, King alone ate like a horse, with Luz trailing behind him. She was a growing girl after all! Eda always said she’d get one when she thought she was ready, not before.

She’d usually just use the dull-practice blade Eda had given her to work on her stances and strikes, beating the living tar out of whatever trees she happened to come across in the woods while she waited for her to come back with King trailing along behind her.

To say she was glad to be out of that town though was an understatement, even if Eda still hadn’t told her where they were going, and as glad as she was to have left the dreary little town of Beldville, she was so tired of walking!

She pulled at the collar of her violet-colored tunic, sweat was making it stick to her clammy skin, but she knew better than to say anything, they were both hot and tired.

They continued the silent trudge beneath the sun, which thankfully was slowly, but surely sinking closer and closer toward the horizon, though it didn’t lessen the heat any. Eventually, the sun had moved to dip just below the horizon, nearly blinding her with its bright orange rays, as it sank and dark blues were starting to rise up over the horizon line in response to the waning light.

Luz shielded her eyes with a hand and glanced into the distance. The dark smudge in the distance was slowly growing into the silhouettes of buildings and she grinned.

“Is that it?” she pointed excitedly toward the end of the road.

"Nope," Eda said, popping the 'p'.

"Whadda ya mean 'nope'?" Luz whined. "That's a town!"

"It's a town, and we're going to spend the night there, but that's not where we're going," she informed her and Luz groaned, shoulder slumping.

"Where ARE we going?" she huffed.

"Patience, apprentice." Eda wagged a finger and grinned at her, making Luz grumble.

Eda always said that when she didn’t feel like explaining herself, which was often.

It was a small town, and although it was nearly dark there were still a number of people milling about the streets.

A few people glanced at her and Luz frowned, pulling up her hood to cover her distinctly rounded ears from view. There was no need to draw any unneeded trouble when they were only going to stay one night.

Eda noticed the motion but said nothing as she dug through a pouch on her belt.

"Here, Kid." She held her hand out to Luz, who held up her upturned palm as Eda dropped a handful of coins into it. "Go get yourself something to eat and I'll meet you back here at this inn." she hooked the thumb over her shoulder to the worn building behind her.

Luz broke out into a wide smile at the silver coins in her hand.

“Thanks, Eda!” She turned and dashed off down the road with King hot on her heels. Eda just smiled as she watched her disappear around the corner.

Luz trotted down the street, she didn’t know this place, but she knew most towns had pretty similar layouts and the market was always at the center of town, and sure enough, she soon found herself walking through the market with King at her side, most people gave the cloaked girl and the demonic creature a wide breadth, understandably. Usually, creatures like King were wild, bloodthirsty monsters that would just as soon rip off your arm, and she’d seen him do it the last time she’d been attacked by a villager with a human problem.

Luz had never feared him, he’s always just been Eda’s silent companion and her big baby ever since she’d started traveling with the gray-maned sell-sword.

She reached over and scratched that certain spot behind his right ear that made him let out a low growl that almost sounded like a happy hum to her.

“Hungry buddy?” she asked, smiling as they walked and he snorted.

There were days Luz was almost sure he understood every word she said. There was just a certain, almost intelligent look in his rusty, red-colored eyes when he looked at her.

“Let’s get some food then!”

She glanced around at the different shops and a few stalls before her eyes fell on a storefront and lit up.

‘Tomes and manuscripts’

“Book shop!” Luz whispered excitedly to herself and made a beeline for it. “Wait here, King.” She turned to the beast, who snorted and plopped himself onto the ground outside the shop. She pushed the door open and grinned as the smell of ink and old parchment filled her nose.

Luz loved books, though she rarely had access to them. Having to carry everything you owned with you at all times meant that you just couldn’t have some things, and books were heavy and took up space that could be put to better use, for food or supplies, that’s what Eda said anyway. Luz would reluctantly admit she was right, but she didn’t have to like it!

“Welcome!” a voice called from her left. She looked over at the old witch peering at her over his spectacles at her. “Can I help you find anything?”

“Uh, thank you, just looking.” she waved a hand.

He nodded and she walked down the many shelves packed with worn leather-bound tomes, grinning to herself as she ran her fingers over their spines, feeling the smooth, cool bindings beneath her fingertips. So many stories, knowledge, and wild adventures aplenty crammed between two hard leather covers. Luz adored books, a lifelong love affair lit aflame by her mother, who had taught her to read and write at a young age. Something uncommon among the lower classes of witches and unheard of for humans in the Empire of the Boiling Isles, who were the lowest class citizens of them all, but her mother hadn’t been from the Isles. She’d always told Luz about a beautiful place across the sea, with fine grain, white sand beaches, and tall trees very unlike the ones here, that dipped and swayed with the wind, their leaves long and few, but still perfect for blocking out the strong rays of sunlight on a clear day.

Luz sometimes wondered what it might actually be like to see it with her own eyes, she doubted she ever would, her mother had always told her it was far away and she’d left to escape a war, bringing only her native tongue and a sack of food.

Luz hummed to herself as she continued browsing up and down the dimly lit rows of books with rapt interest. She turned a corner and glimpsed a small table covered in old, worn books, and felt drawn to them.

They were all hefty tomes and she flipped through the first few on the stack, nothing of any real interest, some play scripts, and something about treaties on the great war. She set them aside and picked up the last one in the stack. It had a dark brown cover with gold inlay around the corners and spine. It’s worn leather bindings were pockmarked with scratches and divots, some worse than others. She flipped it open and found some of the pages were yellowed and crinkled in places as though they had gotten wet and been left out in the sun to dry at some point.

The pages were full of runic writing that she couldn’t even begin to guess at, but as she flipped through the pages she stopped on one with a drawing, a perfect circle with several lines that made up some kind of symbol.

There was very little text in the book that she understood but one set of runes did stand out, the symbols meaning ‘light’. She’d learned them years ago when her mother had told her that her name meant light.

She ran a finger over the crisp, inked lines of the glyph.

They glowed.

“Augh!” she nearly tossed the book across the room, it clattered across the floor with a heavy thump and she grimaced as it landed on the wooden floor. She held her arms up in defense, but the book only continued to lie there.

After a moment quickly scooped it up and gazed at its gold bindings before she flipped it back open to the page with the illustration. She hesitated a moment, hand hovering over the illustration before pressing her fingers over it, skin running across the rough parchment beneath.

The lines began to give off a pale light as she traced them, till eventually, the entire thing was awash in soft glimmering light.

Luz stared at the glowing drawing with open awe and wonder.

“Magic…,” she breathed.

She’d done magic, she wasn’t sure what kind or even what it was supposed to do, but for the first time in her life, magic!"

She needed to look through this, all of it.

"I'll be closing shop in a few minutes!" The shop keeps voice carried out through the store making Luz jerk.

A few minutes wasn't nearly enough time! Her mind raced with thoughts before finally deciding as she slapped the book closed and hurried to the front counter where the shopkeep was still standing.

“How many snails for this book?” she set it on the counter and he eyed it for a moment.

"This? Bah, ten snails, it has little value to any witch, merely theories on old magic.

"I'll take it!" She slapped half the money Eda had given her on the counter.

Only King would be eating tonight it seemed, but the chance at magic? Worth a hungry night.

He nodded and accepted the coins as he pushed the book back toward her, but as he did, got a glimpse under her hood and spotted her rounded ears.

Luz knew what happened the second it happened. His brows crinkled between his eyes and his once, disarming smile, curled into a sneer.

"A human, in my shop!?"

Luz snatched the book off the counter and bolted for the door.

"No take backs!" she squealed as she burst out the door, making King jump up as she did.

She dashed back the way they had come, the black beast loping along behind her with an excited, rumbling bark.

It didn't take long for them to get out of sight, turning the corner and ducking into an alley.

She pressed her back to the wall, clutching the book to her chest, and waited until it finally seemed like she wasn't being chased; she peeked her head out and found the street clear.

She turned back to look at the worn leather-bound book in her hands and grinned.

She couldn't wait to look at it better later.

King whined at her side, scratching at her with his paw.

"Ah, right, right. Let's get you some food, buddy." She smiled at him and snuck toward the other end of the market, spending the rest of the money Eda had given her to buy meat for the beast, who wolfed it down in record time, practically swallowing it whole before they made their way back to the Inn.

"Get some grub?" Eda asked from her place sitting in one of the beds when they walked into their rented room. King immediately trotting over to the empty bed and jumping up on it and curling up into a massive black ball of fur.

"Fed King, yea." She nodded, pulling off her cloak and kicking off her boots before she climbed into bed, shoving King over.

He growled at her but she just shoved harder till there was space for her to lay. He snorted in response but never lifted his head as she laid next to him, book in hand.

“What about you?” Eda narrowed her amber eyes at her, noticing how she only mentioned king. “And where’d you get the book?”

“Uh…” Luz stalled and Eda sighed.

You bought the book instead of eating, didn’t you?” It wasn’t really a question.

“Yeah…,” Luz mumbled and Eda sighed.

"Well, what was so much more important than eating? If it's another flowery love story, kid, I swear…," she trailed off, rolling her eyes.

"It's not!" she insisted. "It's a book about magic!" She flipped it open and opened to the diagram and ran her hands over it, creating the same glow as it had in the bookshop, which made Eda sit up.

"Well, look at that…" she tilted her head. "What's it do?" She looked back up at Luz.

"I'm… not sure yet…" She shrugged. “I need more time to read it." Eda hummed, looking at the glowing glyph on the paper before shrugging and plopping back down on her bed.

“Whatever kid, just don’t stay up all night looking at it,” she grumbled, rolling over and pulling the blanket up over her head.

“You go it, teach!” Luz promised as she snuggled back against King and flipped through the pages.

She really wished she could read any of the writing around it other than the runes for light. She flipped some more pages and found another diagram, a sketch of a sconce, or something similar with a circle drawn above it and little lines indicating rays of light. She hummed to herself.

She had only the basic knowledge of how Eda did magic. She could just kind of think about what kind of effect she wanted to apply to an object and would press her hand to the blade of her sword and it would glow for a second before taking effect, she’d made her show her enough times to know.

Luz pursed her lips and leaned over to her satchel sitting on the floor by her bed and dug out a piece of charcoal she liked to use to draw when they were on the road or she was waiting around on Eda, ignoring the angry rumbling of her empty stomach. She pulled her training sword out of its sheath and looked at the blunt, reflective weapon for a long minute before carefully drawing out the glyph across the flat of the blade.

she glanced back and forth between the book and her blade, humming to herself when the last line was completed. She hesitated a second before pressing a fingertip to it and the glyph glowed before the bright light spread across the entire length of the blade, lighting the room up.

Luz stared at it in awe, before a bright grin stretched across her face, empty stomach forgotten.

She’d done it.

She’d done magic!

#the owl house #worth the fight #eventual Lumity #Luz Noceda #King #Eda Clawthorne #toh #medival AU

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dontasktheradiodemon · 4 years ago

Text

Star of the Cabaret

Alastor a.k.a. Leal a.a.k.a. Astre @usedhearts invites Alastor a.k.a. Astor to see him at a cabaret show. Astor doesn't know when he arrives that it's going to be Leal in disguise. It's a pleasant surprise.

Naturally the best way to react to this is to run to Leal's dressing room, carrying a bouquet, hollering about how madly in love he is with this singer. For the lulz.

(They stubbornly refuse to think or talk about any of the tense topics they’ve been discussing lately.)

Leal

🩸 Tonight. The Cabaret. Ten PM, on the dot. Ask for Madame.

Astor

🎶 I'll be there.

Leal

🩸 See you then. :)

Astor

Really? See him then? And here he'd thought his alternate wouldn't be available to meet him at the start of the show? Maybe his alternate was joining him later.

Either way, he was there at ten on the dot, asking for Madame at the door. Leal hadn't told Astor he needed to be subtle, so he'd come as himself. If the other guests ran, well, that would be on Leal for not not explaining, wouldn't it.

Leal

Contrary to most of Hell, when Astor stepped into Madame's Cabaret, he was greet not with screams, but with _smiles._ Albeit, they were still nervous smiles, but smiles all the same! The hostess didn't run either, but a bitch still powerwalked to get Madame.

The giant woman sauntered through to the entrance, positively beaming, though there was a hint of confusion in her eyes.

"Alastor? I thought--" She paused, taking a second glance. "Oh! Pardon me, you're not the local, are you? Forgive me, shouldn't assume like that! Welcome, welcome, come on in. I'm guessin' that my good friend invited you to use his booth, yeah, shug?"

Astor

Oh, what was he walking into? He didn't like that confused look; it gave him the uncomfortable feeling that he was walking into a trap. What did Madame know that he didn't?

All the same, he beamed widely. "He certainly did! I've been meaning see your place since New Year's, anyway—and he recommended I see tonight's show in particular. So, why not!" He wasn't planning to sleep tonight anyway, and a show would be a fine distraction.

Leal

Madame chuckled and nodded. "I'm sure he did, he knows the talent well-- he made sure you came on the night one of our headliners goes on! She's a peach, voice like an angel, I'm sure you'll be impressed."

She winked at him and turned to guide him into the Cabaret proper. The time between shows was a loud one, people talking amongst themselves. The house was packed, every seat filled-- save for the large lounge seat clearly meant for Madame herself, and a booth directly to said seat's left. That booth was mostly boxed off from the rest of the audience, but gave a very, very good view of the stage-- someone who sat there would have the best view of everything.

"Here ya are, darlin'. I'll send a girl 'round to getcha order, if'n ya want a drink or some food. We got fresh seafood, all Nawlins fair you could think of-- Al helped with some of the recipes, tastin' and makin' sure they got the right flair, I'm sure it'd be up ya alley."

Astor

"That's what he said! Something about magic tricks, too? I'm eager to see anyone who comes so highly recommended."

Of course, a private booth that would save most of the audience from having to look at the Radio Demon. As he took his seat, he let out a low whistle at the promise of fresh seafood. "I *must* find out who your supplier is."

Leal

"Oh, that, well--" She leaned down, covering the side of her mouth with her hand to whisper. "It's the same supplier that our local Al got. He hooked me up."

Madame winked again. "Now, I'll just be in the seat right here should ya need me for anythin'. The act'll be on in abouuuut--" She pulled a pocket watch from her favorite pocket-- her tits-- and popped it open to look. "Fifteen minutes!"

Madame retreated to her seat, and sure enough, a moment later a waitress approached with a menu. Either she was comfortable with Leal already, or she was an incredible actress, because she seemed completely unafraid!

Astor

"*Ah.* So it's a new menu, I take it." A gracious nod. "I'll let you know if I need anything at all!"

It was a nice change of pace to have the employees *not* run from him in terror. He only glanced at the menu before ordering, "A soda and bitters, and... whatever you recommend for dinner, darling." No doubt this place already knew Leal's tastes, and Leal's tastes were close enough to Astor's.

Leal

The waitress took down the order and the menu before leaving-- and it only took her a few minutes to return, with his drink and a plate of crab eitouffee. She set them before him and left again.

It was right around that time that the lights dimmed and the crowd hushed. The show was about to begin.

A soft light shone down from above, illuminating a lone figure, sitting on a swing high in the air. A woman with long legs clad in fishnets dressed in a tight corset bejeweled with diamonds, swung gently. Her long red hair caught the light as the swing lowered.

"_The French are glad to die for love_," She began. "_They delight in fighting duels._"

The silence between her words was palpable, the entire audience transfixed. The air sparkled with what seemed, at first glance, to be glittery confetti-- but it must've been magic, as the confetti never reached the ground.

"_I prefer a man who leaves, and gives expensive...._"

The audience caught on the trailing sentence as she leaned back sticking out a leg and her gloved arm and whispered the last word.

"_Jewels._"

The swing began to spin, and the band picked up as the number truly began, to cheers from the crowd.

Astor

Astor ate quickly, wanting to get a bit of food in him before he had to stop to pay attention to the show—and a good thing he did, since it started so soon.

He recognized it from the first line—"Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend," a cabaret staple. Although with flashier special effects than in *Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.* Leal hadn't been kidding about her magic—Astor could choose to see through the confetti, like choosing to seeing through a reflection on a window by focusing on the background beyond it, but only because he himself had so much experience with magic. It was the sort of illusion he'd be able to pull off himself easily, if he wanted. Surely Leal could too; Astor wondered if his alternate had helped this performer with any of her tricks, maybe that was why he was so keen on promoting her performances...

Oh, hello. Astor squinted. It took until the performer lowered most of the way before he noticed it, but he could see through the surface of *her,* too. She herself was in a magical disguise. Who was really under there—

—*Ha!*

Leal

The swing swung out over the crowd again, and Leal-- or rather, Astre as she was called in this guise- fluidly dismounted onto the stage when it swung back. Voice ringing out, she sauntered across it, eyes locking onto the booth-- and Astor sitting in it. Good, he was here.

For a split second, the glamour dropped-- and Leal winked at his double-- before it was back up, the performance continuing without pause. Astre shimmied and danced and sang, and the crowd ate it up. No touching though-- unlike the number in Moulin Rouge her ensemble was stolen from. Astre stayed on the stage the whole time.

She planted her feet and stretched out her arms as she belted the last note, the crowd erupting in applause and wolf whistles. Flowers were heaped upon the stage, and Astre snatched a bouquet out of the air, holding it to her chest. She waved and retreated backstage.

And a note appeared on Astor's table, a card folded in half to stand with a lipstick kiss on the outside. Inside, Astor would recognize Leal's chicken scratch saying to meet him backstage-- He'd know the dressing room just by looks.

Astor

Astor's grin was widening even before the glamour dropped—oh, he's got you figured out—and he winked back as Leal passed. No *wonder* Leal hadn't been able to meet Astor at the table.

When the number was over, he applauded until his alternate was off the stage, and then devoured the rest of his étouffée as fast as possible. He wanted to catch his alternate backstage while he was still in costume—ah, and there was his invitation, perfect.

He magically collected a full bouquet worthy of flowers off the stage as he swept out of his seat and headed backstage.

Now, he could have quietly and discreetly gone to his alternate.

That was not what he decided to do.

"*Where* is that WONDERFUL singer?!" Everybody backstage would be able to hear him. Everyone. "That *absolutely* INCOMPARABLE star, the BEAUTY who has STOLEN this HELPLESS BEAST'S heart—!" He's hamming it up for all he's worth. Somewhere along the line he summoned up a teddy bear and a heart-shaped box to go with his bouquet.

Leal

Oh, and heard he was-- other performers stuck their heads out and then quickly back in upon seeing the Radio Demon espousing love of all things. Leal heard him too, his smile widening as he stood, cracking open the door of his dressing room.

"Oh, is it me you're talking about?" He cooed, his current voice matching the one he'd sung with. "Why, you certainly know how to flatter a lady."

He opened the door wider, making sure his glamour was still on, to let Astor in. "Come along now, this lady would like a little privacy~"

Astor

"Oh, there you are!" He shuffled around his many gifts so he could lay a hand on his chest as he leaned against the wall, feigning weak knees. "Apple of my eye, songbird of my heart! I would have given you a standing ovation, but had I stood I would have swooned—!"

Okay, he wasn't going to be able to keep this up without laughing, better get behind closed doors. "You *honor* me by accepting my company." He took Leal's hand, kissed it gallantly, and swept into the room.

Leal

It's a good thing he did, because Leal had been about ready to shut the door in his face. Once it was shut, the glamour dropped to show-- that surprisingly, pretty much only his face and skin tone were the things he changed. The rest seemed to be just...flash and a corset.

And a wig, which he removed, his ears popping up from where they'd laid flat. He stuck it on a wighead and smirked.

"So, what did you think of the show?" He asked, taking a seat to start removing his make up.

Astor

"Oh, quite impressive, indeed!" He offered the bouquet. And the teddy bear. And the heart-shaped box. The box has charcuterie rolled into rose shapes in each little wrapper that would usually hold a chocolate. "Fine work with the magical effects. Flashy without being gaudy."

Leal

Leal took each gift and set them on his vanity, opening the box to take one of the charcuterie roses and eat it.

"Thank you, thank you. You understand now why I was being so cagey about joining you, right?" He chuckled. "I had to keep up the suspense! The drama! I had to have my big reveal!"

Astor

"You could have said you were helping out backstage, at least! I was beginning to think you just didn't want to see me!" He said this in an exaggeratedly woe-is-me tone that suggested he had, in fact, not been thinking this at all—but to be fair, what he *had* been thinking wasn't much more optimistic.

"Well, that's certainly one way to get on the stage without everyone running in terror!"

Leal

Oh, that was a thought, wasn't it? "I suppose I could have! That didn't cross my mind, I think I was too caught up in the euphoria of a good surprise!" He chuckled.

"Oh yes, I started doing it oh....fifty years ago? Madame's the only one here that knows." He pointed at the door. "That stays locked at all times _and_ magically warded, and I leave through portals once I'm done. It's all very hush hush. I've put a shade glamoured to look like me in my booth a number of times to make sure people don't think it suspicious that I'm never here to see one of the top billed stars."

He turned from the mirror to grin at Astor. "So you're just helping my cover, honestly."

Astor

"I was *wondering* how you handled never attending your own shows! Here I'd imagined you were going to pretend to have a feud with yourself."

Leal

"Ha! That _was_ an option I considered! But I figured, easier to put a shade there and have it watch while I performed." A shrug.

"I do all kinds of things, too. Song and dance, yes, but I mix it up. Our era, modern stuff, Broadway. I picked that number tonight just for you, you know! Had to pull out one of my best for myself!"

Astor

"I'm touched! And quite well done with it!"

Might as well get comfortable. He stole a chair. "My goodness, if you're one of the star acts—you're more or less a regular employee, aren't you? How much time *do* you spend here?"

Leal

"A fair amount-- less now than in the past, which is why it took so long for me to be able to put on a performance you could see." He took a breath and kicked up his legs-- still clad in fishnets and heels still on.

"I don't perform often, _that's_ one of the main draws of my acts. I'm aloof, a rare occurrance. It makes it all the bigger spectacle when I _do_ show up. Madame and I have a Deal: I get to perform whenever my little heart desires, and I get her things with my connections upstairs. Like fresh seafood."

Astor

"Oh, a Deal! So she'd fire you if only she could, but she can't lose the only shrimp dealer in Pentagram City, is that what you're saying?" He laughed. "I received quite the treat, then!"

Leal

"The Deal was really to get my hoof in the door, once I showed I could bring in the money, Madame was more than happy to let me do whatever I wanted." He snorted.

"But yes, I _am_ the only shrimp dealer." Leal winked.

Astor

"That's one way to get past the dreaded first interview, isn't it! And here I've been wearing disguises to rehearsals!" He laughed.

Leal

"It sure is! An exchange of favors can work wonders." Leal chuckled.

"Now that you know though, it goes without saying to keep it under your hat." He winked as he put a finger over his smiling lips.

Astor

He summoned up a shadow hat and plopped it on his head, where it promptly disappeared again. "Am I *really* the only person you've told besides Madame?"

Leal

"Valera knows." He shrugged as if that would be obvious. "I told her a bit ago and then she came to watch the other day, while I was doing other numbers to warm up for the big ones-- for you and Alexa. Yours was Sparkling Diamonds. Alexa's is going to be Applause."

His smile widened. "So, after that, it's just going to be the three of you, plus Madame. I'm going to surprise Alexa like I did you."

Astor

"I won't say a word," he vowed. "Not that it's likely to come up, but."

Leal

"Exactly! That's the beauty of it, though-- no one expects the Radio Demon to be crossdressing at a cabaret!" He cackled.

"It would never even cross anyone's minds! Which makes it the perfect avenue for performing!"

Astor

"You know, when I do drag, most of the time I don't disguise myself—I don't even wear a wig! And do you know what the most common comment I get is?" He winked. "'Has anyone ever told you you look a little like the Radio Demon?'"

Leal

"It's amazing, isn't it? How changing just a few things about us makes everyone suddenly seem to forget what we look like!" He flattened his ears again, taking the wig and putting it back on. He adjusted it and the picked up a pair of large sunglasses from the table, sliding them on.

"I go out like this and people don't even think it's me. They think I'm Astre! Of course, I _have_ spent a lot of time making sure that's what they think-- but the point still stands! I don't even have to use the glamour other than to just--" A ripple and his skin color changed-- back to something that looked more like his tone when he was alive.

"Just for consistency's sake."

Astor

"Can't have the big stage star looking half dead, after all." He huffed. "I met someone who thought I could do a spectacular impression of the Radio Demon in drag, can you imagine? Sometimes I'm half tempted to try it out, just to see how many people still can't imagine the actual Radio Demon would openly crossdress.

Leal

"They seem to think we live and die in pants." He snorted, letting the glamour drop, and taking the wig and glasses off. "This isn't even a skirt! It just shows more leg than pants does!"

He gestured to himself, still in the stage outfit. "And yet they don't understand who they're oogling!" Leal couldn't help but laugh again.

Astor

"I don't know what *you* were doing on Christmas Eve, but *I* died in pants!" He laughed. "That's the benefit of our usual look, isn't it? It's all a blur of red. Nobody looks at anything but the smile. Simple wear a different color and suddenly you're unrecognizable."

Leal

"Honestly, I've been on stage in our brand of red before and still! Not a soul thought a thing of it! And that was in my early days, too!" He laughed and shook his head.

"It's like if it's anything but a red suit specifically, people don't even see us. I swear, I could go out in a carbon copy of our suit, but in say, green, and people wouldn't recognize me!" He paused. "Okay, maybe they would, but the point stands!"

Astor

"Well, *now* I want to experiment! Throw some gold in there and you've got a Mardi Gras look! See how much we can push the envelope before someone works it out."

Leal

"Now, that WOULD be interesting wouldn't it?" He stroked his chin. "What if we changed our hair to go along with it? Just matched the color? That'd be funny and also might help."

Astor

"Fine, but I'm calling dibs on gold! You can go with green or purple." He patted his waves daintily. "What do you think, would I look nice as a blond?"

Leal

"I think Mimzy would try to kill you for stealing her look!" He laughed. "Alright I'll go with purple-- I like that better than green."

Astor

"She can dye her hair red for the day, it's only fair. Red hair's always hot. And it's not like I'm using it!"

Leal

"It certainly is!" Leal gestured to his wig, now back on its wighead. "I'm sure it'll only take a few minutes to whip up a colorswap glamour, wouldn't you say?"

Astor

"At the most! The longest part would be picking the exact shade!"

Leal

"Oh yes, absolutely, there are so many! How to choose..." He tapped his chin in thought.

Astor

"Any time I change something's color, I always have to slap it on first and then adjust it by eye. Unless I'm matching a photo." A wry smirk. "A while ago Angel sent me a picture of one of his blonde wigs to copy, but the photo must have been taken in cool lighting, because it looked like a sort of lavender gray—so that's what I walked around in all day. I didn't even realize I hadn't really matched it until he pointed it out."

Leal

"Oh, the one you wore for the audition! I remember, I did like the way it looked." He moved in front of his full length mirror-- and in a blink was in his normal clothes. And with default Alastor hair-- that was part of the glamour.

"I think I'll try it your way, let's start with primary solid purple." Annnd there he was, but now purple.

Astor

"Try making a few strands lighter and darker. That always helps save me from looking like I escaped from a poorly colorized picture show." Leal probably already knew to do that, but was that going to stop Astor from shouting out his hard-learned tips and tricks? No, it was not.

Leal

"Hm, good idea!" He started to card his fingers through his hair, strands changing at random. Then he swapped the normally black parts at the base of his ears and the end of his hair to a dark purple instead. His other colors shifted, too, some becoming lighter or darker, until it was a more natural look.

"How's this?"

Astor

"Quite convincing! Why, if I didn't know better, I'd think you're a natural violet!"

Leal

Leal chuckled, moving to sit back in his chair.

"Alright, hot shot, your turn then! Show me those metallics!"

Astor

"Let's see here! What about..." He flicks his finger against his hair. *Ting.* It instantly looks and shines like it's been sculpted out of solid gold. "What do you think, is it going to convince anyone?"

Leal

"Think maybe that sheen is a bit too on the nose! Tone it down a tad." He hummed, static filling the air briefly as he did.

"I just realized, you're probably going to look like one of those living statue fellows! Or some Las Vegas performer!"

Astor

Alastor laughed. "What, like this?" He snapped his fingers and now all of him looked like he was solid gold.

A laugh, and he snapped his fingers again and was back to normal. This time his hair actually looked like hair. Unusually shiny hair, but still hair. He examined himself in the mirror. "Well, it needs work, but we're in the ballpark.

Leal

Leal snorted into a laugh, nodding his head. "Yes, just like that!"

He considered Astor, tilting his head. "The blond is harder to work with because if it doesn't look natural, it just looks overly processed or completely fake. Whereas my purple seems fine with less because purple is inherently an unnatural color."

Astor

"But if it looks natural, then it doesn't look like gold." He tried to shift it more toward what he thought a "normal" blond looked like—and it just looked kind of bad and yellow. He tutted. "I might have to browse a wig shop for examples, this is going to be a difficult color."

Leal

"Oh no need for a shop, come over here." Leal stood moving to a door that was very much not the one that lead back out to the hall. He opened it and snapped, the light turning on.

"I don't just wear red wigs, darling." He smirked.

The room was almost as big as the dressing room itself, filled with all manner of costumes and wigs and accessories.

"Have a look, blondes are over there." He gestured to a bunch of blonde wigs on heads.

Astor

"Does Madame really let you take up this much space, or is this *your* property?" He tried to feel as he stepped through the for for any shift in the atmosphere that would indicate he was magically moving to a different place.

"This is quite a collection!" He started going through the blonde wigs for any that could be properly called gold-colored. "I've always done my hair with a liberal application of pomade and shapeshifting. What got you into wigs?"

Leal

"The dressing room is mine, but any extra space is just a little spacial distortion, nothing fancy." He shrugged, like it was a normal thing. But to his alt, it probably was.

"Doing my performances actually. I started out using my real hair, but it ended up not being practical when I wanted certain dos and it was just too short. So I started collecting. I've got a wide variety now, one for every occasion in an engenue's life." He laughed.

Astor

Seemed normal enough to him!

"What young lady's wardrobe is complete without a variety of hats!" He picked up one head to squint closer at the color. "I rarely venture outside the flapper bob. When I do, I usually just magic that up too—but I suppose you don't want to risk something distracting you and breaking the illusion mid-show, do you!"

Leal

"Exactly! The less things left up to my concentration the better!" He laughed.

"Any striking you so far?"

Astor

"What do you think, does this look gold to you? Properly Mardi Gras gold-gold?" He held it out.

Leal

Leal inspected the wig, light shifting to be a more neutral white instead of the yellow of most of the usual bulbs. His head tilted, eyes narrowed.

"I think if you take that and the up the saturation a tick or two, you'd have it."

Astor

He silently mouthed the words *up the saturation...* After a moment of thought, he ran his claw tips through the wig and made the yellow a little more vivid. "Like so?"

Leal

Oh, had that been confusing for his alt? Hm, he'd note that. "Yes, just like that!"

Astor

He wasn't exactly a visual artist. "Hm." A squint, did that look gold? He didn't exactly have a gold brick here to compare it with, did he? "Let's try it out!" Back into the main dressing room, so he could hold up the wig to act as comparison in the mirror while he adjusted his own hair color.

"There! I wouldn't call it *my* color, but I'm sure I'd be wearing a mask with it anyway, wouldn't I? Of course, by next February, I'll have to do this all over again." A wave, and both the wig and his hair returned to their usual colors. "Did I ever ask you how your Mardi Gras went? I don't know if I did. It's such a busy season, and then right after that rehearsals started."

Leal

"I don't recall if you did or not either! It was a fine time, I collected a lot of beads on my antlers." He chuckled, the purple fading from his clothes and self-- and then a blink and they swapped back to the outfit he'd been wearing, his costume from the show. Sometimes, one just wanted to be covered in diamonds, it seemed.

"I got absolutely sloshed, three sheets to the wind and then some! It was a good time-- I don't remember half the night!"

Astor

"Oh yes, I remember seeing you say that! You'd mentioned the beads." He returned the wig where it belonged. "I suppose you don't do the courir? You've never mentioned any Cajun family."

Leal

"Oh no, no Cajun. Always liked seeing them running around though." He chuckled.

"No, my father's side was more..." He sneered briefly. "They were Northerners. Carpet-baggers. Did I tell you that before?"

Astor

Oh, so he'd seen the courir! Astor's eyes brightened a bit. Outside of Louisiana—and sometimes even inside, depending on who you were talking to—nobody had ever so much as heard of the courir. The fact that Leal at least knew what it looked like was something.

"No, I don't think so. From the way you talked about them, I figured they were some old plantation family."

Leal

"Oh, no, I think I would've died sooner if that had been the case." He seemed much more serious about that comment than the phrasing would imply.

"No, my Father came down from up north, New York, wife already in tow. Wanted to make a fortune down south and did so." His smile turned sadistic. "His wife _loathed_ it, the heat and humidity, the bugs, the bayous, everything. The little time I spent with that woman there wasn't a moment of it she didn't complain. And that was after nearly thirty years of living there!"

Astor

Astor certainly didn't take it as a joke. "Mm, fair. I'd prefer the carpetbagger to the plantation owner myself."

He laughed dryly. "Doesn't she sound like a peach. Just think! You very nearly could have had *her* for a mother!"

Leal

Leal shuddered. "I'm certainly glad I didn't! Not with how her own children acted-- only my youngest half-sister was tolerable, and even then, I hardly would say I _liked_ her! Could you IMAGINE if I'd had grown up with the New York Carpet-bagging Catholics?"

He shuddered again and laughed. "Then _I'd_ be the white alternate!"

Astor

"I still don't know how that happens," he muttered. The multiverse was always baffling but sometimes it found particularly uncomfortable ways to be so. "You know, I'm sure I knew at least a few Catholics whose families moved from New York after the war—in fact probably more than I think, I just don't know it—and they seemed... well, less insufferable than *your* people. So, decent enough. But I wonder if I ever crossed paths with yours."

Leal

"It's possible! If you ever came across a carpet-bagger with an insufferable wife, a douchebag of a son, and two daughters, only one of which was tolerable, then maybe!" He snorted.

"I _do_ wonder if you killed my cousin like I did, though."

Astor

A sigh. "Unfortunately for this little thought exercise, whenever I come across people as insufferable as you make them sound, I try not to stick around long enough to find out details like how many children they have, much less which state they lived in a few decades earlier." Unless they were the fun kind of insufferable, but from Leal's testimony they didn't sound that way.

"That depends! Did he like deer hunting?"

Leal

"Don't know! Never had so much as a conversation with him before I killed him. He tasted alright, though." A shrug.

Astor

"That's no help, I don't know how any of my victims tasted. Well! If he didn't, I didn't; and if he did, I might have. I had a very narrow niche of targets."

Leal

"I suppose we'll never know!" Cue an melodramatic sigh and pose.

Astor

"Well, if you ever run into him, tie him up and call me over and I'll let you know if he looks familiar." His grin stretched wider.

Leal

"I'll be sure to!" His own matched his alternate's.

Astor

He cocked his head, listening for sound outside the dressing room. "Say, aren't there usually more acts on after yours? I was told they go into the wee hours." He tilted his head toward the door. "Do you usually have plans after your performance? Or would you like to stir up a little controversy by having the star performer spend the evening in the Radio Demon's private booth?"

Leal

His grin turned devious. "Oh, I'd _love_ to. The tabloids are going to go _wild._ Give me two shakes to get into something more appropriate-- and I do have another performance later, but it's the last show of the night, so no worries there."

Astor

With mock surprise, "Why, my dear other! I was told that's when they put the raunchiest acts! What sort of a performance am I in for?"

Leal

"Oh don't look at me like that, I don't go nude! Just some more....scandalous dance moves." He chuckled.

"I do this every time I perform, because if there's another showing of Astre at the end of the night, more people stay through the rest-- which means more money for Madame with all the drinks and food they have to order to stay put." He winked as he headed to his closet. A minute inside and he reappeared, this time in a sparkling red evening gown. He got his wig and put it back on, letting the glamour drop in place on his face.

"I figured I'd wear your color, darling," He cooed in Astre's voice.

Astor

"Why, my darling, you look simply *ravishing* in red!" He offered an elbow and a wink. "In fact, you look *just* as good in red as I do."

Leal

Astre laughed, taking his arm with a curled, clawed hand. "I think so too." She winked back. "Shall we?"

Astor

"Let's!" He opened the door with a gesture, and out they go. "I recommend the étouffée tonight, my sweet. It's simply divine!"

Leal

"I'll have to give it a try!" And with that, they exited back out into Madame's, alighting rumors everywhere.

#((due to random luck one Alastor's nickname is Astor and the other Alastor's drag name is Astre))#(('the Alastors take on nicknames to make them easier to tell apart—' so much for THAT))#usedhearts #chat log

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jkoojeon · 5 years ago

Text

Sun and Moon ch 4

tags: wolf au, angst, smut (future chapters), violence, very fluffy

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 3.7k

a/n: hi guys :) I know I’ve been out for a while but I’m back now.

previous masterlist

It has been two weeks since you joined the pack. And let’s just say; those two weeks have been quite boring. It’s not that the pack is boring itself, but because your mate locked you up in his home. Let me rephrase that. He insisted you stay at home in the most charming and heart-throbbing manner. You were so high from kissing him that he convinced you so easy to stay at home. He claimed that it was for your own safety. You didn’t disobey him one bit. Why? You don’t know.

During those past two weeks, you spent your time taking a bunch of pictures on Jungkook’s camera and finding new hobbies like gardening. And you sucked at it. You basically murdered every plant in Jungkook’s backyard, not that he cared, but his gardener did. The only people who visit you were Taehyung and Jimin, who you learned is Taehyung’s mate. Both Joy and Irene couldn’t see you because Jungkook was keeping them busy with their training as an Iota and Lambda.

Jungkook is currently at the pack headquarters reading the reports he received from Zetas (war generals). The reports are about updates on the new wolf packs who are planning to climb their way to the top. This, of course, threatens the Blood Moon. The new packs are a bunch of kids who want to cause nothing but trouble, at least that’s what Jungkook thought. Not until he received reports months ago about them slowly taking over other packs that have been established centuries ago. Jungkook is not that worried because his pack is one of the strongest and will be able to handle them, but he can’t just ignore their existence. He has to keep an eye on them just in case something unexpected happens. Expect the unexpected.

Just as Jungkook is about to sign the reports, and Taehyung and Jimin come into the room without knocking. He doesn’t lift his head up, already knowing who interrupted him. They never knock before entering unlike everyone else who is under him.

“Are those Zetas’ reports?” Jimin asks as he rounds his way around the table to stand behind Jungkook. Jungkook sighs then shoves the paper behind him so his Beta can take it.

“They already took over Ever Green pack. And judging by their location, Raven Night is most likely next.” Jungkook leans back in his leather chair then closes his eyes.

“Wow, they’re quite impatient. And Raven Night? Should we be worried?” Taehyung asks.

“Yes if they managed to take them too. But your brother should be able to handle them, right?” Jungkook opens his eyes again.

Jimin looks up from the report, he blinks curiously. “Raven Night? Isn’t that where Y/N, Irene, and Joy came from?”

“Uh, yeah,” Taehyung confirms a bit nervously. He sees Jungkook staring at him hard. For the past week, Jungkook has been trying to get Taehyung to tell the reason why you left your pack. He knows it has to do with your current mental state. Taehyung only told him that you should be the one to tell him and it’s not his place. “Anyways, when are you going to introduce Y/N to the pack? It’s been the talk to the town,” he question, deciding to change the subject.

Jungkook has not really thought about that. Of course, he acknowledges that you’re going to be a Luna but introducing you to the whole town makes him uneasy. Once you’re introduced, all of the attention will be on you. Which means, the horny male wolves will look at you, more vulnerable to danger, and you will be taking on responsibilities, making less time to spend with you. He just wants to keep you all to himself. But, he can’t do that.

“I’ll talk to her about it tonight,” he says.

“You better because the ladies want someone to represent them,” Taehyung plops in the chair in front of the table.

“Represent?” Jungkook raises an eyebrow at him, telling him to continue talking.

“Yeah, you know to speak for them.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, “I know what the word means. Why do they want Y/N to represent them?”

Both Jimin and Taehyung shoot him an are-you-kidding-me look. “Um, no offense but you terrify the female wolves.”

“Terrify? A group of girls was all over me the other day.”

Taehyung waves his hand in a dismissive manner, “That’s different. What I mean is that they’re terrified to ask what they want, not to please you. I don’t know if you notice but this town has more male attractions than females. Yeah, sure male wolves are more dominant, but they want to have fun, you know?”

“Fun? There’s karaoke, that’s fun.” Jungkook looks at Jimin and asks, “You think that’s fun, right?”

“Jungkook, everyone likes karaoke. But they want something more on the girly side, like a book club or something. And they can’t do that until you approve it.” Taehyung tells him.

“It’s just a book club, what do I care?” Jungkook shrugs his shoulder.

Taehyung groans and throws his head back, feeling the need to slap him. “They need funding. If you don’t recall, we don’t exactly have a library. The only books we have are children books and academic books. I am pretty sure they want romance or coming-of-age novels.” Jungkook sighs, already feel the coming headache. Starting a book club is the least of his problems. “Y/N can easily take care of that. I mean it’s not that hard to start a book club. Just order books from nearby cities. But you’re too busy to do that right now.”

“Yeah, I’ll talk to her about it.”

Jungkook arrives home. Excitement bubbles in his gut at the thought of spending the night with you, just like any other night. He will never get tired of this feeling. Sometimes, he would come home very late. And when he does, he would see you fallen asleep on the couch. Although you don’t admit it, he knows you were waiting for him. He also would come home to homecooked food, which is quite poorly made but he ate it anyway because it was made by you.

Tonight, he hears the T.V playing. He appears in the living you. When he doesn’t see your head, he assumes you are laying on the couch sleeping. He rounds the couch, and there you are. A pillow under your head, blanket over your body, and eyes closed. He sits on the carpet, in front of you.

Jungkook quietly chuckles at the sound of your heart racing. You are definitely not asleep. He brushes your hair behind you so he is able to see your face clearly. While admiring your facial features, he sighs fondly. Carefully, he strokes your cheek before leaving a soft kiss on it.

The corner of his lip twitches as he watches your cheeks growing red. Deciding not to embarrass you, he stands up and makes way to the kitchen.

At the sound of the glass cup hitting the marble counter, you shoot your eyes open. You reach up and cup the cheek your mate had kissed.

Oh my.

You heard him when he came home. You could have not pretended to sleep and welcome him home like a normal person, but no. You guess you want to know what he does when you do fall asleep. You expect him to ignore you or just carry you upstairs, not kissing you. Why did he have to do that? The more you think about it, the longer your cheeks stay red.

Suddenly, you hear his feet padding out of the kitchen. Quickly, you go back to your previous position.

Jungkook turns the T.V off. He then bends down, wrapping one arm under your knees, and the other one around your back. He adjusts you so that your head is resting on his shoulder.

“Let’s go to bed, pretty girl,” he whispers and then smiles at the sight of your cheeks.

Arriving in his cozy bedroom, he carefully places you down on the bed. He tucks you in then leaves another kiss on your forehead before heading to the bathroom.

His bed is so warm and soft, you snuggle more into it. Your brain and body relaxing before actually falling asleep.

The light shining through the large window causes you to wake up with a groan. You open your eyes, only to see Jungkook sleeping in front of you. His strong arm is around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You are so warm and comfortable that you decide to leave it, unlike the other times when you pry his arm off.

It takes you a long moment to wipe the sleep out of your brain. You stare at him, starting to get quite jealous of how he looks good asleep.

You remember the last time you felt like this. When his arm was tightly around you as if he was afraid to lose you. His chest slowly rising up and down at each deep breath he takes. The sounds of his light snore putting you to sleep. And his incoherent mumbles into your neck. You were so happy with him. So happy to wake up every morning and going to sleep every night with him. But that all changed.

Jungkook brought back those familiar feelings, but there is also something unfamiliar. You can’t really put your finger on it. Is it a domestic feeling? Homey feeling? Or the feeling of content? Maybe it’s the feeling of belong? No, there’s something more. Just what is it?

Jungkook lets out a soft grunt before slowly opening his eyes to the bright light. He stares at you while you stare at him, holding in your breath.

“Morning,” he lazily says in his raspy and deep morning voice. He closes his heavy eyes.

“Are you going to work today?” You ask softly.

He stays silent for a moment, “Why? Is there something you want to do?”

You blush before trailing your eyes down to his neck.

“Um, well, I kind of want to go on a picnic and maybe go out for a run. I haven’t got out in a while, and I kind of miss it.”

Jungkook opens his eyes, seeing you looking like you’re regretting asking him. A picnic and a run? He would be more than happy. He will get to spend time with you, and not only that but also see you in your wolf form for the first time.

Jungkook turns to lay on his back and then reaches over to his phone. You watch him curiously, seeing him sending a text to Jimin.

Jungkook: I’m taking a day off.

A bright smile shines on your face. Jungkook puts his phone down then turns back to you, his arm finding its place around your waist.

“I’ll bring you out if you give me a kiss.”

You blink. Your heart stops for a moment before it skips a beat. He’s asking you for a kiss. Kiss him, so that you can go out with him. But you stay frozen.

What’s wrong? It’s not like you never kissed him before. But it’s also not like you kiss him often. The giddy feeling of anticipation is coming to you.

Oh man, kissing his beautiful soft lips.

As you stay still, Jungkook waits. He wants to just kiss you but he also wants you to do it in your will.

And so you do, you plant your lips on him for a few long seconds before pulling away. You watch the same lips you just kissed grow into a smile.

There the both of you are, sitting on a mat in an empty clearing with luscious grass around you. You are sitting crossed-cross across from Jungkook with his coat over your exposed legs with the basket in between you and him. You did absolutely nothing when planning this picnic. Jungkook assured you that he has everything all figured out. Not going to lie, but you are impressed.

In a short amount of time, he found the perfect secluded area and packed food. He opens the baskets and takes out containers of foods. He packed a variety of sandwiches, fruits, chips, desserts, and drinks. You lick your lips at the sight and aroma as he takes off the lids.

You look at him for approval to start eating. He laughs at your twinkling eyes. He takes out a sandwich he made then gives it to you. Excitedly, you snatch it out of his hand and start munching on it.

“We didn’t eat breakfast not that long ago,” Jungkook teases as he takes a sandwich out for himself. You pause then shoot him a glare as if daring him to call you fat.

“Speak for yourself,” you raise your eyebrows at him as he shoves chips in his mouth after biting the sandwich. He can’t help but smile at you. He runs his hand through his hair, getting it out of the way. This makes you breathless for a moment before you tear your eyes away from him.

“There is something I want to ask you,” Jungkook speaks. You look away from the single daisy next to you. “I know you’ve only been in this pack for a short while but I was wondering when you want to be introduced officially into the pack, as a Luna.”

Luna? Luna?!

You completely forgot about that. You’re the future Luna to this pack, Jungkook’s pack. He’s the Alpha, so of course, you’re the Luna, you’re his mate. You swallow your food nervously.

It’s a big responsibility. Even though Jungkook will be right beside you and you will have help, it still freaks you out. Your rank is a Phi, a pup caretaker. That’s a big rank jump. And the fact of being such an important person. Can you do it?

You remember in your previous pack, he didn’t let you do anything that involves with pack’s affairs. He didn’t want to put the load on you. He did everything himself and just needed you by his side.

Then Jungkook...

“You don’t have to take on the title if you don’t want. I know it’s a big responsibility, but pushing you to do something you’re uncomfortable is the last thing I want to do. I equally happy if you want to stay at home.” Jungkook reassures you once he sees the panic look on your face.

You lower your sandwich down, “It’s not that I’m uncomfortable. It’s just a big jump from Phi. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I’m worthy to stand next to you in the affairs. What if they don’t like me, or I make a mistake, or-”

Jungkook’s body leans towards you, his hand cupping both of the sides of your face. You look at him, eyes wide in surprise.

“They will love you, trust me. You will be a great leader. I’ll teach you everything you need to know. You won’t be alone in this. I won’t ever leave your side. And if anything, it’s me who is not worthy.” He leans in so that his forehead is in contact with yours. A blush starts to creep up your cheeks.

“I-,” you try to spit out the words. Taking deep breathing, you let it out with an “okay.”

Jungkook doesn’t move away from you. And truthfully, you don’t want him to move away either. You like his warm palms pressing against your face. You like his forehead against his while his breath blows to you. Even though both of you been physically closer before, this has a different sensation. Maybe it’s because you’re both awake and alert. The open, fresh air around you while both of you are sitting in the middle of the clearing, void of any humans and animals. The silence is quite different from when you’re alone with him at home too. It could be because of the lack of restriction on the closed walls and furniture. It could also be because of the light breeze blowing around you. Or it could be neither of those things. Whatever it is, you don’t care because you realize being anywhere with Jungkook, even if it’s just a short while, there’s one feeling that is always present.

That specific feeling is intense fondness. And you are sure Jungkook feels it too.

Both of you have finished eating, leaving a few sandwiches and fruits as leftovers. You sit there on the mat, waiting patiently for Jungkook. Your mind can’t help but imagine what is going on behind that thick tree.

Your ears are able to listen to Jungkook slowly taking his clothes off. You just know he’s doing this on purpose; slowly stripping and running his hand over his body to tease you. You can imagine his drool-worthy muscles contracting and veins bulging from his skin. Oh gosh, you need to stop.

Moments later, you hear bones popping before soft, dull sounds against the ground and low growls. You watch the tree with such anticipation, waiting for Jungkook to come out in his wolf form.

Then there he is, in his mighty glory, a large black wolf emerges from behind the tree. Wow, he’s beautiful. You can almost see his black fur glimmering in the sunlight. Absolutely beautiful.

You seem to forget how to breathe or even blink as he approaches you. He is so strikingly handsome that you don’t hear him grunt at you. Not until he paws at your thigh that makes you snap out of your trance.

Oh right, it’s your turn to shift.

Jungkook sits, letting you stand up and go behind the tree he was just at. You spot his clothes haphazardly in a pile against the base of the tree. You nervously start stripping out of your clothes.

It’s both nervousness and excitement that gurgle in you. Nervous because he’s going to be another person to see you in wolf form. Excited because you get to show your mate your wolf form.

You concentrate and then let your bones pop uncomfortably in place. When you open your eyes, you’re closely faced with the grass. Your white and light gray fur comes into your view.

Well, here goes nothing.

Cautiously, you peek from behind the tree before coming out from behind it.

Just like you, Jungkook is stunned, but in wolf form. He sits there, unmoving, with his ears perk up. You shyly make your way to sit in front of him.

Jungkook feels like he’s falling in love with you again. He doesn’t know how many more times he’s going to fall in love with you. Falling for you once isn’t enough. And he swears it’s going to kill him but in a good way.

His mate. His fucking mate in front of him, just several inches away.

The urge takes over him as he suddenly lunges to you, making you fall back with a surprised whine. He begins attacking you with kisses all over you and nuzzling against your fur. You only internally laugh, feeling a bit ticklish from his rough nature.

You wiggle out from under him then go into a full sprint into the woods.

“Chase me!” You say to him.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Jungkook growls playfully before sprinting after you.

You feel so free and alive again. The wind blowing in your ear as it sings in tune with your heart. Your fur being constantly brushed back. The beautiful forest views passing your eyes.

You’re pretty fast. However, Jungkook is faster. Within a few minutes, you can hear him catching up to you. This makes you run faster, trying to outrun him before he can outrun you. But that’s a waste of energy because he’s still faster.

Soon, Jungkook is able to get in front of you. He stops and turns around, ready to tackle you. Just when he does, you dodge him by leaping to the side. You laugh as you don’t stop running.

It only takes Jungkook a few minutes to get ahead of you again. He does the same thing, only this time, he’s ready. He observes your steps. When you leap to the side again, he follows. Successfully, he jumps on you. You both roll down the short hill together, then land on another clearing.

Jungkook nuzzles against your neck, causing you to giggle internally. Your attempt to get on top of him fail as he gets on top of you.

“You bad girl. You’re not going anyway.” Jungkook says light-heartedly.

Just as you are about to comment, both of you perk up at the sound of bushes rustling. You quickly get out from under him then stand behind him. Jungkook growls at the intruder, standing protectively in front of you.

“Who’s there?” He barks. Jungkook notices that both of you are longer in his territory. He was so distracted by you that he didn’t notice you crossed outside his borders.

A brown wolf appears from the bush. He has a scar across his eye, giving him the rouge look. You come close to your mate, silently whimpering at the dark and troubling aura the wolf is emitting.

“Isn’t the Alpha Jeon Jungkook. What a nice surprise.” His voice sounds mischevious. “Hey, I’m not breaking any rules here. We’re not in your territory.”

The wolf then spots you. “Oh? Who is this? Your mate?” He sniffs the air, “No, it can’t be. She’s unmated. And she smells delicious.”

Jungkook rips out a powerful growl, warning the wolf. You can feel his body temperature rising along with his anger. “Don’t you dare. I will rip you apart if you say anything about her. Leave if you know what’s good for you.” He threatens.

The wolf lets out a malevolent chuckle, “Alright, but we’ll be back for you, Jeon Jungkook, and your pretty little mate.” He promises then going into the woods.

You shake in fear while you stare where the wolf was. You don’t know what it is but that wolf doesn’t sit well for you. His threat sounds far from empty. Jungkook turns to you.

“Let’s go. Now.” There is that authoritative and demanding tone in his voice. You waste no second and obey, following him back home.

taglist: @itsmehoseok @fluffybunnybaekhyun @ally 22042000 @deolly @crazylittlemay @fivesecondsofsarang @hobishine12 @laluzdirectioner

#jungkook #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook wolf au #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #bts #bts fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts fic #jungkook x you

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talesofealdancynedom · 4 years ago

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Meriam Craweleoth & Felin Haracwen, as girls in normal nobles clothes, wandering the local magic forest; Hope you didn’t forget chapter one, because it’s about to hurt.

Tale 19: Meriam Craweleoth: Mage Queen of The Grand West (chapter 10.1 -

Another Day 10/10) part 4. Stories of Old

Maps

none

At dawn, Meriam, Fredrick, and Eatheltwein, headed down to the dining hall for breakfast. To their surprise, they saw they had a guest; who was sitting across from princess Charlette, Eathel’s new wife. No one had stopped their intruder for one reason: they had seen him before.

Murdoc was helping himself at the table, surrounded by books, and his panther familiar Stearra, purring at his ankles. He ate like a small child, that just learned to use a spoon. Everyone took their seat, as the servants brought them dishes. They all ate their food quietly as dawn light poured in.

“Pardon me, master Monafyra-” The king started.

“You can call me Murdoc.” He said, without looking up. The pure audacity made everyone in the room livid, but not so much as to make any of them speak up.

“Yes. Murdoc... Why are you in my dinning room? And how and when did you intrude our palace?”

“I walked in the front of course,” Mudoc said, continuing to eat. He was wearing his plum and black wolf fairy robes, which made apear like an animal. He looked older than Meriam had remembered; she had lost track of time.

“You had many guards, but none of them stopped me. Either they knew who I was, or what I was. All of this is irrelevant to the fact I came to deliver some news; again. Then, there was gravy, eggs, and bread; And I saw no point in refusing the kindness of others.” Murdoc continued, whilst gesticulating and chewing. Fredrick waved his hand, letting Murdoc carry on; now that he had finished his food.

“I come to give lord Eatheltwein my journals, as I am retiring form magic to settle down in my homeland; don’t seek me. King Edmond used his power to give me refuge. Th people of The Far North believe mages can be made to give up magic. Your kingdom however, Meriam, is not so polite. I have visited each of our mage friends, only to see a trail of bodies. All our dear friends are nothing more then illustrations of tragedy, on my parchment. At the hands of wizards, I’m sorry to say. Common folk no longer think that mages are necessary to wield magic; as if that’s was all our worth. Even my brother Tiberius, and his daughter Fyra, turned out to be dead on my way here. I have good stealth magic to evade people. Unlike you, Craweleoth.”

“You come to tell us mages are dying, wizardry is spreading, and that the people of the Grand West of Anglia, are coming to kill my wife?” the king coughed.

“Aunt Merry can use time magic; she can get away, I’m sure.” Eatheltwein said, looking at Meriam, who stared back in fear. Everyone knew of the Mage Queen, but no one knew Eatheltwein was a mage. They had been led to believe he was a wizard, just as she had planned.

“You have all the time to run away Meriam, but no matter which way you turn, the events that transpire in Ealden Cynedom always snap back; you will die. Eventually. They will come for you shortly, I suppose.” Murdoc said. Then he read the room. Meriam looked petrified, Charlette was confused, Eathel was sad, and the king looked unwell. “I know death when I see it, my lady.” He concluded. Murdoc got up, thanked the servants, left all his journals next to Eathel and Meriam, and left.

“On a good note, we were invited to the borders of Francia, by my king father; to shake hands for peace! Aren’t you happy Queen Merry? Peace at last! We can all heal because of you.” Charlette chimed. The king coughed on his food, and Meriam rubbed his shoulder staring unblinkingly at Charlette. Eatheltwein seemed exuberant. Charolette’s words did not comfort Meriam. She was equally scared to go to boarder. Meriam hadn’t been there since she was off to get married; and saw her friend be murdered by her own people. To think, she was excited not two days earlier.

The royal court traveled steadily to the border between Francia, and Anglia. It rained, and then it shined, and then they reached the open meadows, that were starting to yellow as harvest season approached. Both parties stood a hill apart. Charlette waved to her father, who walked forward.

“Dear, I still feel unwell. Would you like to shake for peace? This was your mission.” Fredrick asked. Meriam nodded. She slowly walked forward through the grass. It smelled woody and dry, and brushed her skirt like when she used to run around as a girl. She continued onward. The uniforms of the Francian guards accompanying their king, hung loose, and their faces were sad and tiered. Meriam continued. Just at the border pole, Meriam stopped; there was some clover blooming by it, and dirt trailing along the boarder. The king stopped and held out his hand. He was not happy.

“Mage Queen. Your nephew is pleased with my girl, who appears to be in good care. We are tiered, and we wish to retire. Why do you not shack on peace, now that I’m repenting for my foolish legacy? Instead, you stare at clover that is at our feet.” The Francian king snapped. Meriam stared at it, and a tear went down her face.

“Did you know I was born in Francia, by Fort De Lapin. The magic forest of The Rat Rate. I grew up here, and I learned magic here. My mother left, thus my father found the daughter of a warlock, who had also recently had a baby. My milk sister Filen Heracwen, meant the world to me. She died here, trying to see me off as I was forced to marry against my will; she was shot by one of your men, for trying to leave with me. Possibly to send a massage of your own people, the reason doesn’t matter. I bet there isn’t anyone alive who remembers her name, or that she loved magic and her kingdom. She wanted to be my hand maid, and go with me on quests. Yet she died here, without a family to burry her, or siblings to mourn her. She passed before she could wed; unlike me, She wanted to merry a farm boy, and have three kids. Have her first daughter named Odette. Felin thought it was a pretty name for a girl. She went dark to open the Rat Gate, even though she was a commoner, because she loved magic so much, she wanted help it. Yet, she died before wizardry could give her that. And her only kin, uncle Normanwe was not there for her, because he was dying on your behalf in far off battle. I look at the clover, because it reminds me of her. This is the closest thing she will ever get to a funeral. Fourty years too late. I am sad, because I never got to attend. I am sad, because a young lady needlessly died, when she had a future in front of her. I am sad soldiers would kill a civilian. I am sad I got taken away from my home, and now that I am back, I wish to leave.” Meriam sobbed. Her voice echoed across the field to both sides, as it grew in volume and tears. Everyone stopped, and looked at the clover. Everyone had forgotten, or was oblivious to, why Meriam wanted to stop the war so badly. It wasn’t because she saw Francia was an enemy; but because she didn’t want anyone else to die. It was too sad. Meriam didn’t want to have this funeral. Everyone began to cry, and not know why. In the absence of a head stone, or body, they felt like they were attending the wake of not just a girl, who could have lived, but for everyone they loved who died; For a war that had long lost its purpose, and unjustly claimed many. Everyone, on every side, had lost someone. And no one, on either side, had truly had the time and relief to just mourn. Meriam, who was considered the most formidable player around the world, reached out and shock the king’s hand. She held her chest and went to her knees wailing alone in the field. Shacking the hand of a man who was responsible for her pain. At long last, Meriam no longer felt hate, only pain.

When they arrived home, the king was ill. No doctor could figure out why, but he remained in bed. Meriam tended him, while Eatheltwein took up royal duties. Fredrick would not get better, no matter the rest or medicine provided. Meriam even tried magic methods. She was given her own chambers, as they feared she would catch his sickness. Then one mourning, the doctor came to Meriam in her study, and told her the man she loved, wed, and had shaped her whole life, was dead. He had lived long, but Meriam wished she could give him more time. She could, with magic, but she pushed away that intrusive thought. We will all die eventually; she could hear Murdoc say in her mind. But time is precious, and she could not let go of the possibility of saving everyone, if she went back for them. Meriam took three days to leave her bed. And wore her purple dress to Eatheltwein’s coronation, and to dance with him. She did not smile like the last time she was adorned like a courtly lady. She wondered if Fredrick would have liked to see her wear his favourite dress one last time. She even wore her Francian pearls, from when she was young, but was never aloud to wear. She wore no makeup, and had a pearl comb holding her hair back in a knot. In the mirror, she had aged half that of her husband, due to magic changing her appearance.

Before bed, she took off the dress and held it; the fabric was still warm. In her bath, Meriam realized she loved that dress too. It felt like she was dancing with Fredrick again when she wore it. Remined her of his smell and smile. The dress was perfect, and barely worn. It was light, airy, flowy, soothing, and feminine. Unlike her black crushed velvet fairy robes. Her protective fairy robes were a magic gift made by the Fairy King, yet had half the value of that periwinkle gown. Then, Meriam wondered something: if all mages had fairy robes, which protect against spell and sword, why did they all die if they knew wizards were coming? Why did they choose to remove their robes and surrender to death? She thought. Meriam did not sleep well, as she mulled over mortality, and impending doom. She didn’t want everyone’s stories to end while hers continued. Her bed felt so cold without Fredrick next to her.

In the middle of the night, Eatheltwein came into Meriam’s new chambers, and sat next to her bed.

“Are you awake, aunt Merry?” He asked. Meriam shrugged in response. Eathel put the candle on the side table, and lay next to her on top of the sheets.

“Charlette told me to come and see how you’re doing; without uncle. I am so sad. We have peace at our borders, and wives hold their husbands; but you are alone. No other mages, children, or husband. Just me. I will miss you too someday. Are you also scared of the Wizards? What will you do if they come here for the raven gate, and for you?” Eatheltwein whispered. Meriam never thought about that. She was busy wishing for other people.

“I wish you to tell everyone you’re a wizard, and to not go into the shadow veil to see your cousin Odette. I want you to hide, bury or destroy the Raven Gate, so no one wanders into it. I want you to be happy, when I’m gone.”

“You would let them take you, so that they can feel secure? Even if it is a lie, and mages will still be born to magic families?”

“I don’t know. But I think that may have been what happened to my friends around the world. Remember Eathel; magic does not have sides, or possess malice. It would make sense not to fight, and instead accept destiny.”

“I don’t think your capable of either of those thing’s, aunt Merry.” Eatheltwein laughed. He was still a source of sunshine. Meriam reached over her sheets to hold his hand.

“Can you stay? For tonight.” Meriam asked. Eatheltwein nodded.

“Can we go on one last adventure, before I’m a wizard and king, figuring out how to transition power before our people invent guillotines. For old times sake?” Eatheltwein asked earnestly. Meriam laughed and grabbed his hand closer.

“Yes. Yes, we may your majesty. I think Fredrick would have wanted us to be happy too.”

Just before dawn, while the servants woke and prepared for the day, Eatheltwein and Meriam snuck out of the palace in their fairy robes. A note was left for Charlette; telling her to keep their location secret, unless they never returned. Which she was inclined to do, as keeping secrets is exciting if you’re a noble woman. In the streets, the peasants were busy starting work and waking, and the knights were changing shifts. Merchants started to set up, or pack to leave to their next market. Meriam didn’t even need to freeze time to get by. Only as they reached the Raven Gate, in the square, did Meriam pause time.

“Eathel, where do you want to go?” Meriam said, clasping his hands in excitement. She had hit the point of sadness, that results in manic giddiness when you can no longer cry, and have sleep depravation.

“Bantia! I’ve never herd or seen a single person from the land south the of Dania, and north of The Far South of Hispania. I bet that is the only magic forest you haven’t seen aunt Merry!” Eathltwein gleamed with the glow of dawn.

“No, actually I haven been to the wolf gate in North Moon, nor plan to…. Which means Bntia must have the Tree Gate… Magic plants… That colourful forested area in the shadow veil.” Meriam mused. Now she was curious; her seer nature made her thirst for magic knowledge once more. Meriam grasped Eatheltweins hand, and they leapt into the shadow veil through the Raven Gate one last time.

NEXT--->

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#art #tales of ealdan cynedom #short stories #fantasy #meriam #felin #eatheltwein

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