#danica fills me with rage | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luxekook · 5 years ago

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okay, bloomer ❃ myg

❃ pairing: floral assistant/rapper!yoongi x reader

❃ genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, slight crack, light angst and smut

❃ summary: spin-off sequel to ‘petal to the metal’; in which the reader visits a flower shop on her way home from work to treat herself to a flower and then keeps returning just to interact with the shop’s cute tsundere floral assistant. the last thing she expects is to see him ~spitting hot fire~ and looking hot as sin at her friend’s music event. how is she supposed to get flowers in peace now?

❃ word count: 10.2k

❃ warnings: 18+, cursing, violent imagery, mansplaining, tattooed and pierced yoongi, jealousy, mention of drinking, lots of sass, yoongi is soft as hell, rapping, jungkook being an idiot, smut [biting, blindfolding, bondage, sensory play, oral (f + m receiving), unprotected sex (WRAP IT), slight dom/sub themes, yoongi and reader are swiches, dirty talk, workplace sex]

❃ beta’d by: the amazing and gorgeous phia @meowxyoong

❃ banner by: the iconic and beautiful danica @dee-ehn

❃ commissioned by: my angel bby sweetheart jess @floralsuga UWU ILY AND I HOPE U LOVE THIS YOONGI AS MUCH AS I DO!!!!

The first time you enter the flower shop, it’s on a whim after a particularly bad day at work. You stomp down the street towards your apartment stewing over how Darryl can go screw himself as far as you are concerned. You almost flipped your desk today after the fifth time he tried to explain your own job to you.

It’s like you haven’t been working at the graphic design firm for over three years and know all there is to know about typography and how it reads on book covers. You knew the moment your boss paired you with Darryl for this assignment, you were going to be in for a bumpy ride. You just didn’t expect the bumps to be of Mount Everest proportions.

You probably look crazy as you stalk down the block untethered in your rage, mumbling something about shoving your stylus so far up Darryl’s ass he’ll choke on your creativity.

Somehow you unconsciously turn your head to admire a display of flowers blooming in a shop window. The blooming bunches of color call to you like a beacon of light in the darkness. Fuck it, you are going to treat yourself.

You dart across the street, dodging traffic. You need a flower. You need something that will brighten your evening and remind you that there is still beauty on this earth after all that mansplaining. And it seems that Of Fern & Freesia Flower Co. will be your oasis of choice.

Squaring your shoulders, you push open the heavy wooden and glass door of the shop. The sound of a bell chimes in the air as you enter. A smile forms as you take in the array of greenery and petals surrounding you. The air smells like summer meadows and deep forests.

Wandering around, you realize that it’s going to be harder than you thought to pick just one flower to go home with. As you near the back of the shop, you notice the general shop counter with a cash register, a small jar, and an array of flowers scattered across the deep oak wood. It seems like someone is piecing together a bouquet.

“Can I help you?” A low, languid voice calls out to you. Slowly, a boy emerges from the back room. Your eyes widen at the sight before you. He’s of average height with lean muscle and tattoos winding up both arms. His ears glint with multiple piercings, his left eyebrow has an intimidating slice through it, and his hair is a messy array of silver with a sexy as hell undercut. Yet, despite all of that tough exterior, the second you look at his face you melt.

The boy has the cutest face you have ever seen. His cheeks are full and pink, his nose is the most adorable little button, his lips are a dusky shade of rose. He has the face of an angel wrapped in a sinful package. Honestly, it’s unfair.

After a few moments, you realize he seems to be waiting for you to speak. Slitted eyebrow arched, he stares at you, dark eyes flicking over your own body.

“I’m looking to get a flower, but I just don’t know which one to pick,” You sigh, eyes shifting to glance around the shop once more. “There are so many beautiful ones to choose from.”

“Well,” The boy murmurs, “Sometimes one beautiful flower just stands out from the rest.”

Your eyes return to him, finally noticing the name-tag haphazardly pinned to his apron. Yoongi. His name is Yoongi. “And do you know which flower stands out today?” You ask, hands gripping your work tote so that you don’t do anything embarrassing like squish his chubby cheeks between your palms.

“Without a doubt,” He quirks a small smile in your direction before walking around the counter. Without a word more, he wanders down the rows of flowers and stops at a particular bunch of blue blossoms. He carefully selects one flower from the bunch and extends it out to you.

You accept the flower, examining it closely. It’s beautiful indeed. Shooting a glance at the sign attached to the bucket the flower had originated from, you smile as you read the label of ‘rare blue-tinted orchids’ (rare and unique beauty).

Turning back to Yoongi, you realize he has already begun to walk back to the counter. Quickly, you follow in his footsteps, carefully holding your flower in one hand and digging through your bag to find your wallet with the other. Upon reaching the counter, you gently place your orchid down to finally retrieve your wallet from where it had been lurking at the very bottom of your tote.

“How much do I owe you?” You look up at Yoongi who had been staring at you with a peculiar expression on his face.

He just shrugs, fiddling with one of the many silver rings adorning his fingers, “Nothing. It’s on the house.”

“What?” You tilt your head in confusion, “But the sign said these are rare, so I’m sure it can’t be cheap.”

Again, Yoongi just lifts a shoulder lazily and shoots you a half smile, “I get an employee discount.”

“Oh,” Your eyes fall under his intense scrutiny. They land on the small jar sitting next to the register. It’s labeled with a sticky note that says: “Feed Yoongi’s Dumpling Addiction”.

“Dumplings, huh?” You grin at the cute boy and quickly grab ten dollars from your wallet, shoving the bill inside the jar.

“Hey!” Yoongi pouts, “That’s not fair.” His cheeks are shaded a bright pink, “You can’t use my weakness against me like this.”

“I just did!” You laugh, slinging your bag over your shoulder and picking up your orchid once more. “Bye, Yoongi.”

You send him a wave and head back out into the night. You don’t realize he had stared out after you for quite some time with a small smile and a gleam in his eye. No, you are too busy picturing what it would be like to go get dumplings with a cute flower shop assistant.

The next day at work you bring your flower along with you. Your desk needs some life breathed into it, and your flower does just the trick. Plus, you can't help but smile each time you look at it.

And so when cursed Darryl waltzes over to you to talk about your project, you kindly tell him to fuck off. You know, in a safe for work fashion. You don’t need his bullshit or his bad vibes. Not when you can draw up romance novel cover designs with a certain boy in mind. It comes as no surprise to you as you realize later on that you had been drawing orchids woven throughout the book title.

The rest of the week passes by slowly as does the wilting of your flower. Yet on Thursday, your boss praises you for your flower designs, so much so that she decides to give you the company credit card to go buy a bouquet for the office as further inspiration. You tell her you know just the place.

Taking an extended lunch break, you trek over to Of Fern & Freesia. Stepping through its doors brings an immediate smile to your face. You glance around, noticing a few other customers scattered throughout the shop. No sign of Yoongi.

You weave your way around the rows of flowers and the patrons that dot the aisles. A heavy feeling of disappointment settles in the pit of your stomach as you notice that there is a woman at the counter instead of the cute boy from a few days prior. The woman glances up as you approach, “Oh, hello! Welcome to Of Fern & Freesia. How may I help you?”

“Hi, yes,” You shoot a furtive glance around, “I was hoping that you could recommend a bouquet?”

“Hm,” She nods, “Of course! What’s the occasion?”

“It’s just for my office,” You explain, “We need some inspiration, and flowers seem to have helped lately.”

“I see,” She smiles, “Well, let me ask you if—”

“Hey, boss lady! Do you know what happened to the lace ribbons? I can’t find— Oh,” Yoongi halts as he emerges from the back room and lays eyes on you. “Hello,” He mumbles, running a hand through his hair.

The woman helping you looks at Yoongi and then looks back at you and then looks at Yoongi again. A sly smile forms on her lips, “Well, well, well. Why don’t I go look for those lace ribbons while you help this customer here.” She turns to you, “My very best employee will be sure to take excellent care of you.”

Chuckling slightly, she disappears through the door that Yoongi had vacated a minute before.

“I’m your only employee!” Yoongi calls after her, the small smile on his face betraying his complaint. Still grinning slightly, he turns his brown eyes back to you, “Hello again…” He pauses, clearly waiting for you to fill in the unspoken blank.

“(Y/n),” You extend a hand out tentatively, “And you’re Yoongi.”

“That I am,” Yoongi smirks and takes your hand in his. You glance down at your clasped hands and marvel at how his hand fully engulfs yours. The heat of his palm burns into you while the coolness of his many rings makes you shiver. Eventually, you let go, certain your cheeks are as red as the display of roses to your left.

“Well, what can I do for you, (y/n)? Back for another flower?” His eyes flit around the shop briefly before returning to yours.

“A bouquet, actually,” You smile, “For the office. On the office.” You flash the company card that your boss had given you, and your stomach flips as he laughs – his dark eyes crinkling and his gums showing adorably.

“Didn’t picture you working in an office,” He mumbles, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as his tongue pokes his cheek.

“Oh, so you’ve been picturing me, then?” You tease and internally sigh as he blushes fiercely, turning away from you.

“Yah, you know what I meant,” Yoongi scowls without any real menace, “You seem like you do something - I don't know - weird.”

You stare at him a moment and then burst into laughter. Yoongi pouts as you continue to crack up over his brazen observation. “I mean I guess designing romance novel covers isn’t the most conventional job, but it pays the bills and it’s pretty fun.”

“Romance novels?” Yoongi widens his eyes comically, “Don’t say that around the boss lady, she’s obsessed with them.”

“I heard that,” A yell sounds from the back room, “And I’m demoting you!”

“I’m demoted just by being associated with you!” Yoongi calls back.

You think you hear his boss mutter something about shoving a branch of redbud (betrayal) up Yoongi’s ass but you can’t be sure. Yoongi walks around the counter to lead you around the shop.

“What are you looking for, (y/n)?” His gaze is heated as it rests on you, and you bask in its glory.

“I’m good with whatever you recommend,” You shrug, “I’m in your hands.”

“Not yet,” Yoongi mutters under his breath; and before you can question that remark, he stalks off down an aisle, practically mowing down innocent shoppers. You trail after him, watching as he seems to be picking flowers at random. However, once he brings them all up front to arrange them, the flowers combine effortlessly into a beautiful bouquet.

“Wow,” You say softly, admiring the colorful arrangement before you, “This is beautiful, Yoongi. What kind of flowers are they?”

Yoongi rapidly fires off a number of flowers, most of which you had never even heard of before: honeysuckle and alstroemeria flowers (devotion), lilies of the valley (return of happiness), and petunias (your presence soothes me).

As you hand him the company card to ring up your purchase, you notice a stray flower set aside from the bunch. “That one didn’t fit with the rest?” You joke, pointing to the multi-petaled pink flower.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, “Obviously not, (y/n). That one is for you.”

You let out an embarrassingly high-pitched giggle, “Well, excuse me for not being an expert, flower boy.”

He groans at the nickname, shaking his head in disgust. But, you see his lips twitching. God, he is so cute. You almost don’t even know how you had been intimidated by him at first. Even his tattoos and piercings are endearing to you now. You see them as a layer of protection he has in order to protect his soft heart.

Yeah, you are fucking whipped.

In an attempt to distract yourself from your growing infatuation, you glance down. The tip jar catches your attention, and you grin immediately as you read today’s inscription: “Yoongi’s Nap Fund: One Dollar = One Nap”.

“Don’t even think about it,” Yoongi warns, but it’s too late. You shove another ten dollar bill inside.

“Goddamn you,” Yoongi sighs, and the way he says it sounds like a confession. And you are so losing your marbles. And your job. You catch sight of the clock hanging on the back wall, and you are so, so late to get back to the office.

Cursing softly, you grab the bouquet and accept the flower Yoongi extends out to you, “Thanks, flower boy. I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

With that, you rush out the door, pulling a full Yoongi as you ruthlessly storm past customers on your way out. You unknowingly leave Yoongi in your dust, staring at you with what can only be affection.

When you get home after your shift later that night, you quickly put your new flower in a mason jar with water and admire its beauty. After a quick google search, you identify the flower as a camellia.

You fail to read further. But, if you had, you would have discovered the meaning of the flower Yoongi had gifted to you… My destiny is in your hands.

The next few weeks pass in a flurry of flowers - each prettier than the last. But that could just be the rose-tinted glasses you’ve been walking around with ever since you met Yoongi. You had visited Of Fern & Freesia such an embarrassing amount of times that you figured you should have a frequent flyer card.

But, who in their right mind could blame you when men like Min Yoongi exist? That’s right, you are on a full name basis now courtesy of one of Yoongi’s latest tip jars: “Support Min Yoongi in purchasing an off button for Jeon Jungkook”.

With every visit came a new flower and a new post-it note on his tip jar. For instance, last Monday Yoongi gave you two stock flowers (you will always be beautiful to me), to which you immediately clowned him on for buying you stocks. He had just shaken his head at you - a common reaction from Yoongi that you had been on the receiving end of too many times to count. On that day, you had shoved a twenty dollar bill in the jar labeled: “New headphones for Yoongi’s silent, sad and lonely ears”.

This Tuesday you had arrived at the shop right at closing. Your job had required you to stay for a late meeting because Darryl had fucked something up with his latest project. It’s honestly a wonder how he hasn’t been fired yet. After the meeting ended, you had practically run out of the office to make it to see Yoongi in time. When you stepped into the shop, you had been greeted with a growly yell of “We’re closed! Get lost!” And then when Yoongi came storming towards the front, he’d skittered to a halt, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find words.

You had just shyly waved like an idiot and then had turned to leave, only to be tugged back inside by Yoongi. “Come on,” He had said lowly, seeming quite exasperated with you, “I have your fix.” He had held your wrist all the way up to the counter as you blushed profusely behind him. He had handed you a zinnia (I mourn your absence), and you had added a couple five dollar bills to his jar simply entitled: “Do it. You won’t.”

And, finally, yesterday you had made sure to visit on time, clocking out of work at 5:00PM exactly. Your boss had even asked if you had a hot date. God, you had fucking wished. In all your hurry to get over to Of Fern & Freesia, you had forgotten one important piece of information that had been made crystal clear the moment Yoongi had locked eyes on you - you needed to do laundry.

Now, this might seem like an odd and offhand comment, but it meant that you had been wearing your more formal work clothes out of necessity. A form fitting pencil skirt with a tucked in button up blouse - both of which were on the tighter side from not being worn enough - paired with your favorite stilettoed ankle boots had been your outfit of choice and your last resort.

You had clicked and clacked your way up to the counter and had almost turned right back around at the look Yoongi had given you. His eyes had been the darkest you’d ever seen. You hadn’t quite been able to read the storm of emotions within them. Had it been anger? Annoyance? Attraction?

God, you had prayed it was the last.

When you had made it to Yoongi, he had let out a harsh breath before turning away from you for a moment. “Hey, flower boy,” You had said tentatively, “Are you okay?”

“I’m just peachy,” He had muttered, slamming down a few flowers on the counter.

“O-o-okay,” You had responded, drawing out the word. You had stared quizzically at Yoongi as he fiddled with his rings, looking more on edge than you had ever seen him before. His eyes had flicked over your body, and then finally he had met your eyes.

“Sorry,” He had grumbled out, “You just caught me off guard. These are for you.”

As Yoongi had gathered the flowers he had slammed down on the counter, you had realized you still had your hair up and fastened with your stylus. Tugging it out of your hair, you had tousled your hair with your fingers for a bit and then had shoved the stylus in your bag. You had thought you had heard Yoongi choke slightly, but your ears surely had been playing tricks on you.

You had grinned at him as you grabbed the flowers from his outstretched hands and then tucked a twenty in his tip jar inscripted with: “Help Yoongi endure Kim Seokjin’s presence for three hours.”

Later that night, you had realized that you really should have brushed up on your flower knowledge sooner because apparently the flowers he had given you were peach blossoms (I am your captive). While their meaning is still unbeknownst to you, you now appreciate the pun wholeheartedly.

You had even tried to see him tonight, but he hadn’t been working for some reason. It’s hard not to assume the worst. Is he on a date? Oh god, has he had a girlfriend this whole time? A boyfriend? A partner? You almost call up your friend Jackson to cancel on his music event because all you want to do is sit down on your couch with the two men who will never let you down - Ben and Jerry.

But, you can't.

Jackson would hunt you down and drag you there himself if he had to. He had done that very thing when you tried to bail on his last party. It hadn’t been your fault that you considered a midweek celebration of his five point increase on his credit score to be extra as hell. But that is just Jackson, and you adore him for it.

You met Jackson through your job. He sometimes models for the book covers that your company produces; because, let’s be real, Jackson is a whole snack. Unfortunately, you seem to be attracted to boys on the surlier side as opposed to those on the sunshine side of the spectrum.

Therefore, you and Jackson are great friends, and he brings out (READ: forces out) your more social side. Tonight, he is MCing a local music show at one of the bars downtown. It’s apparently some sort of open mic night. You just hope your ears are all in one piece when you return home.

The bar is crowded as hell as you slip through its doors. The entire back area has been converted into a stage, and you notice Jackson getting ready to begin MCing. Of course, he spots you immediately, waving incessantly. You can’t help but smile back widely and wave.

Squeezing your way through the crowd, you luckily spy a free barstool with a decent view of the stage. Quickly claiming it as yours, you order a beer and settle in for the night. Your eyes drift across the crowd, seeing some familiar faces of musicians you had seen before at events like this.

You even think you see the woman from Of Fern & Freesia in the back corner, but that’s probably just your brain playing tricks on you. Your attention is brought back to the stage as Jackson begins to announce the general lineup for the night and then the first performer.

As you listen to the first performance, your heart aches. The musician’s ballad is slow and soulful, its lyrics deep and jarring. What you wouldn't give to feel a love like that, too feel so deeply for another person and to have that returned unconditionally. Again, your mind turns to the damned flower boy who has been ruling your thoughts lately. And as the song ends, you clap along with the crowd like you hadn’t just planned out your entire future with a boy you had met just a handful of times.

You watch as Jackson introduces the next performance - some group called ‘Bangtan’ featuring some dude named ‘Suga’. What kind of name is that? A stage name, you hope.

Five boys jump onto the stage, and the crowd goes fucking wild. As you assess the boys with your own two eyes, you see the hype. They’re hot as fuck.

Their performance begins with two of the boys singing. Your eyebrows raise as their sweet voices grace your ears. You almost fall into a sense of security as their vocals envelop you. And then the rapping begins.

Your jaw drops all the way down to the pits of Hades as you take in the sight of what can only be Yoongi, your sweet fucking flower boy, spitting crazy hot fire alongside two other beautiful boys. Had you somehow eaten an edible unknowingly on your way over here? Have you teleported into an alternate universe? Have you travelled into another dimension? Have you fallen into the fucking upside down?

God, he looks so fine. In all the times in the flower shop, you had only seen him in plain t-shirts, black jeans, and an apron. Therefore, your mind is fucking blown at the way Yoongi is wearing the shit out of a long white t-shirt, ripped blue jeans, a white and silver jacket, and silver chains.

The boy is sauntering around the stage like he fucking owns it, all cocky and brash. Your attention is riveted by the sheer talent before you, but your sanity is in shambles. He drags a hand through his messy hair and his undercut peeks out from underneath. Damn, that hairstyle suits him well.

It seems the performance is over both too soon and not soon enough. And when Yoongi stays on stage all by himself, you silently pray to any higher power out there that you survive this. The low sound of the bass fills the bar as Yoongi lazily nods to the opening beats of whatever he plans on performing.

Almost by fate, Yoongi’s eyes meet yours. They widen as they take you in, and you are absolutely certain you also resemble an owl as you stare back. Like the dork that you are, you lift your beer up in a silent toast to him, and your stomach flips as his lips quirk.

And then he starts. You cannot look away. Somehow Yoongi rapping solo is just as good as the previous performance with the four others. It might even be better; but, then again, you are insanely biased at this point.

As he performs, you lose the ability to speak, to cheer alongside the crowd. The way Yoongi commands the stage with his words, his presence, his talent is quite possibly the sexiest thing you have ever seen. The looks he sends you definitely don’t help. You might actually melt into a puddle on this very floor.

And you nearly do as Yoongi’s song ends and he sends you a wink as he hops off stage. God, you need to get it together before you track the boy down, tug him to you by his silver chains, and kiss the hell out of him and his talented mouth.

Yeah, you need to leave ASAP. Shooting Jackson a text, you leave a twenty on the bar and haul ass out of there.

How are you supposed to face Yoongi after this? You can’t even pretend it didn’t happen because he had seen you. If you don’t go back to the shop, he might think you hated his performance. But, if you do go back to the shop, you’ll have to face the boy who had destroyed your ovaries on stage in front of multiple dozens of people.

Lord, you are so fucking screwed.

Saturday and Sunday pass with many more existential breakdowns; and by the time Monday arrives, you decide that - fuck it - you are going to do some recon.

You email your boss that you are running a bit late and head over to the flower shop. It is barely 9:00AM when you strut through the doors.

The woman you had seen once before startles as you burst in, “Oh hey, it’s you! Um, Yoongi doesn’t work until later.”

You swear you turn fifty shades of maroon, “I-I know.”

She also blushes, “Right, sorry. I haven’t had my coffee yet. How can I help you? Another bouquet?”

Before you can answer her, a boy bounds through the door holding two steaming coffee cups. He looks eerily familiar, but you can't quite place where you have seen him before.

“Morning, noona!” The boy beams at the woman, and then belatedly realizes you are also there. “Aish, sorry!” You gape as he somehow becomes small, huddling by his ‘noona’. “I didn’t realize you had a customer already.”

“That’s alright, Jungkookie,” She smiles at the admittedly cute boy who is now scrutinizing you for some reason.

“Aha!” Jungkook snaps his fingers, “I know you! You’re Yoongi-hyung’s g—”

The woman grabs Jungkook’s ear before he can continue, “Ignore him. Please.” She shoots the boy a dark look that sends him pouting.

You try your best, but the words are already flying through your mind. Yoongi-hyung’s girl? His girl insert-space-here friend? His gremlin? His goddess divine? His fucking Go-Gurt?

The possibilities are too endless; and so you pull a Spongebob and burn the memory from your brain for the sake of your rationality. You quickly grab the first flower you see - a love-in-a-mist (perplexity) - and pay for it before jetting out the door.

Your feelings? Unstable.

Your recon mission? Unsuccessful.

Your inevitable face-off with Yoongi? Unavoidable.

“I heard you came by yesterday morning.”

You nearly jump out of your skin, barely having crossed the threshold of the flower shop before Yoongi slides right in front of you. “Holy sweet mother of god, Yoongi! Have you been lurking by the door just to scare me like this?”

Yoongi’s gaze darts around, decidedly not looking at you. “No?” He tries. You don’t let him succeed.

“Oh, really...” You arch an eyebrow and try to step around him, but Yoongi just matches your movements - effectively blocking you from advancing further.

“Stop trying to distract me,” He growls. His frown is admittedly cute instead of intimidating in the way he probably intends. “Why did you visit yesterday morning instead of last night?”

It’s your turn to avoid eye contact as you look for any possible avenue for escape. Yoongi gives you no room to budge or even any time to answer as he continues to question you. “Could it be…” He leans closer to you, “That you didn’t like what you saw on Friday?”

Your heart stutters in your chest as Yoongi grows closer still, his breath ghosting over your ear as he whispers, “Or maybe… it’s that you did like it.”

Before you risk it all and pounce on him while he’s working, you pull a spin move around Yoongi that would even make Lebron proud. Trying to put as much distance between the two of you as possible, you power-walk away from him, calling over your shoulder, “Yes, I liked it, okay? God.”

You weave your way between the shelves of flowers with Yoongi trailing your every move. That little shit is relentless in his pursuit. You shoot him an evil eye between two buckets of flowers that he steadfastly ignores, “What did you like about it?” Yoongi grins widely, “Come on, tell me. Tell me. Just tell me, tell me, tell m—” You round the aisle he is on and clamp a hand over his mouth.

“Min Yoongi, for the love of reese’s peanut butter cups, shut your mouth.” Your glare strengthens as you can just tell he’s smirking underneath your hand. It’s difficult to ignore the plushness of his lips pressed against your palm. Did he just lick his lips? With your palm over them?

“I liked the collaboration you did with Jungkook and the other boys,” You shoot back at him, desperate to take him down a peg, “It was cute.” With a victorious smile at his darkening expression, you tug your hand away and turn to walk away. But déjà vu strikes as Yoongi’s hand envelops your wrist.

He pulls you back into his chest as he leans down. You can feel his words flow from his chest as he murmurs, “Oh really? And did you know that Jungkook is happily in a relationship? What a bummer.”

“Uh, I don’t recall asking,” You retort, “But that’s great for Jungkook. Should I send him a card in congratulations?”

“Fuck, you are so frustrating,” Yoongi groans and lets out an exasperated laugh, “Are you really going to make me ask?”

“Undoubtedly,” You grin like the menace you are.

Sighing, Yoongi presses closer to you. “(Y/n),” His lips brush against your ear, “What did you like about me?”

The way that Yoongi’s scent wraps around you, the way his lips move against your skin, the way his words drip with sensual intent makes you cave almost immediately. “Well, you had some fire bars, bro,” You blurt out.

He stills for a second and then a laugh bubbles up from his chest. You pout as he doubles over, clutching his stomach.

“Hey,” You complain, “I thought that’s what all the youngsters are calling it these days.”

Yoongi laughs harder, “Oh my god, please stop. I’m going to break a rib from laughing too hard.”

You sniff, “Well, consider that the first and last compliment you will get from me. Ever.”

That shuts him up real quick. “Aw, babe,” He whines, following you as you move towards the counter in the back of the shop. Thank god there are no other customers to witness your complete degeneration into Min Yoongi Trash™.

You slouch against the counter as you reach it, turning to face him. “Don’t ‘aw, babe’ me, babe. Now, get me my flower.”

Your sass does nothing but bring a smile to Yoongi’s face, and your frown deepens.

“I know just the thing,” He smirks.

You don’t trust it. At all.

Yoongi goes behind the counter and grabs a little potted flower from behind the register. He pushes it over to your side slowly. “It’s a potato vine flower (you are delicious),” He says, like that explains everything. “It reminds me of you.”

You gape at the admittedly pretty triad of flowers intertwined together in the small silver pot. “A flower with potato in its name reminds you of me?” Your eyes narrow down into slits as you stare at him.

“Those are the words that came out of my mouth, yes.” His lips quirk at your growing ire.

“Hmph,” You turn up your nose, “Well, I will take it as a compliment. Potatoes are great, versatile, and goddamn tasty.”

“Indeed,” Yoongi smiles, running a hand through his hair. The rings adorning his fingers glisten under the shop’s lights, and you cannot help but follow his hands as they once again return to his sides.

You can feel your face warming as indecent thoughts of his hands on you fly through your brain. As your gaze remains lowered, it falls upon the tip jar. Today, it reads: “Help Yoongi fulfill his dream… of doing absolutely nothing”.

Before Yoongi can stop you, you shove a twenty into the jar. “Thanks for the potato plant, Yoongi,” You try to hide your smile as he - as predicted - gets into a huff over your incorrect identification.

“It’s a potato vine flower!” He yells after you as you walk away, “You know that, right? It’s important to me that you know that!”

“Po-tay-to, po-tat-oh,” You call back to him, laughing as you ignore his groan of protest. Provoking Yoongi might just become your new favorite hobby.

Work consumes your next few days and prevents you from visiting your lovely little flower boy. Obviously, that has contributed to your mood taking a turn for the worse. But, it’s also done a steep nosedive because fucking Darryl is back at it again with his misogyny. You really shouldn't be surprised at this point, but here you are, surrounded by cleaning supplies, one concerned model, and one indifferent photographer.

Your joint project is culminating tomorrow - book cover proposal for one of the industry’s top romance authors. The one job, the one fucking job, you had given Darryl was to buy props. And guess what Darryl had gotten? Fucking mops.

“I thought you just wanted to clean or some shit,” He had said and then had the nerve to shrug.

Oh, you are going to clean alright. Clean him right out of his office, you will. Using him as the broom you personally sweep the floor with.

Now, your cover model Jinyoung is here, and there is nothing to make this shoot interesting. Jinyoung, one of Jackson’s close friends and fellow model, awkwardly tries to comfort you as you stew in your rage in the corner of the studio.

“What are we going to do?” You cry for the tenth time, getting ready to either burst into tears or to burn the building to the ground. At least Darryl had made himself scarce ever since you tore into his ass for a solid fifteen minutes. Honestly, that had been the highlight of your day.

“Are there any props around here?” Jinyoung suggests. You look around the studio only to find the photographer Mina scrolling through her phone and an assortment of lighting fixtures against the white backdrop. Suddenly, your gaze snaps back to Mina - more specifically to her floral patterned shirt.

“Come with me,” You grab Jinyoung’s hand and tug him out the door, “Mina, I’ll be back in ten!”

The photographer sends a thumbs up, and you and Jinyoung are on your way. “Where are we going?” He chuckles as you keep tugging him along out of the building and down the street.

“We are going to improvise,” You grit out as you stomp towards your destination, hand still grasping Jinyoung’s tightly. Finally, you arrive at Of Fern and Freesia. “We’re getting flowers,” You declare and enter the shop with Jinyoung in tow.

“Alright then,” He mutters, probably thinking that he doesn't get paid enough for this. And honestly neither do you - especially when you lock eyes with Min Yoongi and his face looks like thunder. You become hyper-aware that you are still clutching onto Jinyoung as Yoongi’s eyes fall to focus on your clasped hands. His jaw tightens.

And then his expression clears like nothing had even happened.

Your heart beats fast in your chest as you watch as Yoongi turns and walks into the back room of the shop without a backwards glance.

Had that been a display of jealousy just now? It could not have been. Nope.

You shove this whole thing aside. You aren’t Yoongi’s anything. Just like he isn’t yours.

You clasp Jinyoung’s hand tighter as you haul him towards a selection of roses. “What do you think of any of these?” You ask Jinyoung and point to the different colored roses.

“Uh, they’re nice,” Jinyoung doesn’t seem too committed to your search, but you pay that no mind. You have one goal: do not get fired. Actually, no. You have a second goal: get Darryl fired.

You pluck a red rose (love) and a burgundy rose (unconscious beauty) out of their respective buckets. Holding them up next to Jinyoung, you try to envision the book cover. But instead of seeing Jinyoung with rose petals raining down around him, you see Yoongi sprawled out across your bed with petals scattered around him.

Not the time, (y/n)!

Oh, god. The time!

You quickly grab the entire bucket of red roses and gesture for Jinyoung to grab the burgundy rose bucket. “We’ll get both and figure it out later,” You say, moving onwards towards the counter. Jinyoung follows you obediently.

When you make it to the counter, you both plop the buckets down.

“Couldn’t have just one, huh?”

You and Jinyoung jump as Yoongi appears from behind you as he rounds the counter.

“Had to take them both?” He continues, his expressionless face is worrisome. But, you do not have the time to analyze it or his confusing words right now.

“Uh, yeah? Yoongi, listen, we’re really late, and I need to pay quickly. I can explain later. Please.”

Your voice cracks on your last word, and Yoongi’s blank expression softens slightly as he sighs, “Okay, (y/n).” He accepts your credit card that you have outstretched to him and rings your flowers up.

“Thank you, Yoongi. You’re a lifesaver,” You say in a tiny voice, going to grab your wallet when you realize you don’t actually have cash on you right now. You’ll have to come back later.

“Yeah, thanks, man,” Jinyoung says, giving Yoongi that classic headnod that ‘bros’ do.

Yoongi shoots Jinyoung one of the iciest glares you have ever seen; and yet, somehow, Jinyoung just smiles without a care.

“You’re welcome, (y/n),” Yoongi replies, handing you back your card along with the receipt. “Oh, I also have flowers for you - for both of you.” He snags two different flowers from the shelf behind the counter and holds one out to each of you.

You accept the pretty white flower which Yoongi calls a polyanthus lily (pleasures that inevitably cause pain), while Jinyoung gingerly accepts a cluster of smaller yellow flowers. Yoongi smugly declares them to be tansies (I declare war against you).

Thanking Yoongi again, you rush out of the shop with a bucket of roses in your hands and a model hot on your heels. You have a shoot to save and a bone to pick. It is time to get shit done.

Seven exhausting hours later, you emerge from your workplace with a sense of bitter accomplishment. Your shoot with Jinyoung had gone as well as it could have given the circumstances.

You and Mina had gotten as creative as you could have with the hundred roses you had bought from Of Fern & Freesia. You had showered Jinyoung in rose petals, you had made him place a rose between his teeth, and you had him extend one flower out like the Bachelor.

God, if you hadn’t been half in love with your flower boy you might have kissed Jinyoung for being such a good sport. Instead, you had settled for personally calling his agency to sing his praises and for making a note to send him a bonus.

Another win had come later this afternoon when you had been lucky enough to bear witness to Darryl’s termination. Your boss had been horrified to hear about Darryl’s fuckup and about all of the other bullshit he had put you through. As it turns out, she had already been keeping tabs on him for similar suspicions and this had been all the evidence she needed to seal the deal.

The look on Darryl’s face had been life changing. It had carried you through the last few hours of editing and arranging the final book cover proposal.

And so, finally, you drag your tired ass back to Of Fern & Freesia to both tip Yoongi for earlier and to give an explanation for the brevity of your afternoon visit. That is, if he is even still working at this hour. The shop is nearing its close, and you just hope you aren’t too late.

The bell chiming is the only sound that greets your ears as you enter the shop. The place is absent of the customers who usually roam around the aisles, examining flowers. Undeterred, you walk towards the back of the shop.

Yoongi is slouched over the counter, typing away furiously on his phone. He doesn’t look up as you approach as it seems he’s lost in his own virtual world.

“Paging florist Yoongi,” You call softly and smile as Yoongi is finally the one to get jumpy.

“Yah,” He cries, slapping a hand to his heart, “What are you trying to do, woman?”

“I’m trying to greet you, duh,” You roll your eyes, biting back a grin.

“All alone this time?” Yoongi sets his phone on the counter, turning his full attention - and sass - to you.

“Alone? Please,” You scoff, “My FBI agent is surely tailing me somewhere nearby.”

“There goes that mouth,” Yoongi mutters darkly, his eyes dropping to your lips for a split second. He leans closer to you over the counter, “Tell me, (y/n)... Does your boyfriend like it when you talk back like that, too? Or is that all that attitude just for me?”

You mirror his actions, leaning over the counter and bringing your face closer to his. “He would like it... If he existed.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen slightly before narrowing, “Really? Then who was that boy you came in here with earlier? So you’re saying that you hold hands and buy flowers with just anyone?” His attention on you is hard and absolute, but you don’t flinch.

You lean closer, lips only an inch or two away from his. “Hm,” You say, in mock confusion, “I didn’t realize that the last Daylight Savings had shifted us all the way back to the 14th century. Oh, wait. It’s still 2020, and I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

Before you can blink, Yoongi’s hands shoot out to cradle your face and his lips are on yours. A gasp slips between your lips, and Yoongi takes advantage of your shock to slip his tongue into your mouth, tasting you. He pulls back slightly, his lips brushing yours as he mutters, “You are so goddamn infuriating. You walk around here looking like a fucking thirst trap when I have to be Professional Yoongi™, and then you say these absurd things that only make me want you more, and then you show up at my music show and almost make me forget every word I have ever known, and now the only melodies and lyrics that run through my brain relate to you, and so I am just losing my goddamn mind over you—”

You kiss him. “Shut up, you giant adorable idiot,” You mumble against his lips, “And for the record, I liked you first.”

Yoongi pulls away from you and shakes his head, “No way, babe. I’ve liked you since the moment I saw you standing at this counter for the first time last month.”

You cross your arms, “Oh yeah? Well, I’ve liked you since you walked out of that back room right there to help me for the first time last month. So, it looks like we’re even.”

“Even?” Yoongi grins, ducking down to pull something off the shelf below the counter. “That’s cute. But, I win,” He straightens, placing a bigger tip jar that you’ve never seen before onto the counter between you. Slowly, he turns it around so that the post-it note attached to it is displayed for you: “Cute girl (Y/n) and Yoongi’s Date Fund”.

“Wow, am I not cute anymore?” You joke, looking up at Yoongi who rolls his eyes.

“That was before I knew your name, babe, and (y/n) is too beautiful a name not to be written at every opportunity.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. Your cheeks flush traitorously as you smile, “You’re so full of shit, Min Yoongi.”

“Am not,” He argues, moving around the counter over to your side. Just when you think he’s trying to get closer to you, he moves past you.

“Where are you going?” You trail after him, pausing when you notice he’s pulled a ring of keys from his pocket. Your eyes widen to their full extent as you watch him lock up the shop and flip around the sign to read: “Closed”.

Yoongi turns back around. “Come here, (y/n),” He says, his voice deep, his lips tugging into a smirk.

You resort to your instinctual reaction whenever someone issues you an order, “Make me.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Yoongi prowls towards you. You back up with every step he takes, and before you know it, your back is up against the counter. Yoongi’s arms cage you in on either side of your body. He’s so close. The heat from his body sears into you and you think you might just faint from proximity.

“What do you want from me?” You whisper as Yoongi’s head dips to place soft kisses along your neck.

“I want you,” He says without a pause or hesitation, “In any way you’ll give me.”

“And would I get you in return?” You sigh as Yoongi sucks lightly on the skin right below your ear.

You feel his smile before he answers, “Babe, you already have me.”

Your heart swells. He is yours. But in true (y/n) fashion you cannot help but to fuck with him further, “Ah, well that just disincentivizes giving myself to you. Since I already have you, why should I let you have me?”

Yoongi bites your neck lightly in response to your teasing, and you are too surprised to catch the moan before it winds its way out of your mouth. “Fuck, baby, I need to hear you make that sound again,” Yoongi growls, his hands gripping your thighs before lifting you onto the counter. “Let me have you,” He begs, pulling his head back to stare at you. His pupils are so blown out, and you are certain yours are the same way.

His hands are still gripping your thighs as you clench them together as best you can with Yoongi in between.

“Oh,” Yoongi murmurs, looking too pleased, “Is my baby desperate for my touch already?”

“Puh-lease,” You reply, “Don’t act like you aren’t hard as fuck right now, Min.”

“That’s besides the point. I’ve been hard for you since you walked in here in that tight as fuck skirt and those fucking heels,” Yoongi scowls. “And then you had the audacity to take your hair down like some sort of seductress. I had to jerk off like three times that night.”

“Oh,” You grin evilly, “You mean… like this?” You reach up to pull the pencil out of your topknot, successfully sending your hair tumbling down your shoulders. You shake your head slightly to help the strands settle and bask in Yoongi’s dark expression complete with clenched jaw.

“That’s it,” Yoongi’s hands slide under your thighs, and suddenly you are thrown over his shoulder.

“Yoongi!” You cry as he carries you into the back room of the shop.

“Shut it, you,” Yoongi spanks your ass once, and you let out a tiny squeak before you are set down on a marble island amidst a room full of flowers, ribbons, and anything even remotely related to bouquet-making.

You’re too distracted by the beauty that surrounds you to notice that Yoongi is grabbing something from a nearby shelf. He returns to stand in front of you once more. “Let me taste you,” He says as if he’s asking for the time of day.

“If you must,” You feign indifference, but your smile betrays you.

“Clothes off,” Yoongi says, his voice deeper than you’ve ever heard it. You don’t think twice before stripping out of your blouse and unbuttoning your dark jeans.

“You’re gonna have to help me, Yoongi,” You sigh as you stare down at the lack of room Yoongi is giving you to stand to take off your pants.

“It would be my honor,” Yoongi replies, and you groan at his dramatics. “Ass up,” He commands. You lean back onto your elbows and lift your ass up so that he can take your jeans off successfully.

“Damn, baby,” His eyes burn into you as he takes in the sight of your body covered just barely by your lace bra and panties. Tugging a scrap of ribbon from his pocket, Yoongi approaches you, “Can I blindfold you?”

“Kinky,” You breathe, nodding. Yoongi grins and gently ties the soft ribbon around your head, effectively surrounding you in darkness.

“Lay back,” He murmurs. You do so, shivering slightly as your skin meets the coolness of the marble. A soft kiss is placed to your cheek before you feel a brush of something else cross your neck.

You gasp as what you can only imagine could be a flower is dragged along your body, dipping in between your breasts, down across your stomach, ghosting over your hips. All of your senses are buzzing, hyper-aware of everything but your sight.

And so when you feel a finger slowly stroke you over your panties, you let out a gasp. “Yoongi,” You moan, your hips shifting in vain to bring his hand closer.

“Say my name again,” He growls, and you hear a snip along with a quick touch of metal.

“Yoongi,” You chastise, “Did you just fucking cut my underwear off?”

“Hm, not quite the tone I was asking for but it’ll do,” The grin is apparent in his voice and you open your mouth to lay into him when his tongue slides between your folds.

“Fuck,” You sigh, your hand winding down your body to clutch at his hair, “Yoongi, please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Yoongi mumbles, and then you are suddenly moved closer to the edge of the island and his mouth is on you.

His lips kiss over every inch of your pussy, his tongue flicks out every so often to drag over your clit. It’s slow and torturously sweet. Your back arches as Yoongi suddenly sucks lightly at your swollen bud.

“Yoongi.”

That sets him off. You feel Yoongi’s finger tease your entrance, lightly pushing in and out as his mouth continues to suck and caress your pussy.

“Please.”

His finger sinks into you, and you curse, moaning Yoongi’s name as he continues to push in and out of you. Though your vision is taken, you begin to see white as you hurtle towards the precipice.

Another finger is thrust inside you and you cry out. “Fuck, baby,” Yoongi growls, “You are so wet for me, so tight, so delicious. Tell me when you’re close. I want you to come in my mouth.”

Fuck, he’s filthy. You think you might love him.

“I’m already close, you little shit,” You groan as he sucks your clit harshly, making you somehow see stars.

Yoongi immediately switches things up, his tongue sinks inside you as his fingers rub your clit in quick, light circles.

You come with a scream, feeling Yoongi sucking and lapping up everything you give him. He carries you through your orgasm, and finally you sink back onto the marble.

And then you rip off the blindfold.

“My turn!” You grin, blinking furiously as your eyes readjust to the light of the room. You sit up. Yoongi is still kneeling between your legs, gazing up at you with wet lips and a feral expression.

“Your turn?” He arches an eyebrow and stands. You take advantage of his movements and hop down off the island.

“Those are the words that came out of my mouth, yes,” You throw his own words from a few days ago back in his face.

You can tell he remembers when he laughs slightly, his eyes crinkling adorably.

“Now get naked, Min Yoongi,” You command, unhooking your bra and letting it fall to the ground.

Yoongi groans at the sight of you and then whips his shirt off, throwing it at you.

Laughing, you catch it and chuck it to the side. Before you know it, Yoongi stands naked before you. His torso is also covered in ink, his nipples are pierced, his cock is hard.

You slowly walk over to him, excited by how the tables have turned now. “Blindfold?” You ask, dangling the satin ribbon in front of you.

He shakes his head swiftly, “No, I need to see you.”

You grab his cock and revel in the hiss of breath he sucks in, “Baby boy, I don't think you understand who is in charge here.”

“Fuck,” He moans, both at your words and at the slow movements of your hand along his length.

“Now, since you made me come particularly hard, I’m going to give you another option: I tie your wrists.”

Yoongi looks pissed, “I have to pick one?”

You take your hand away, and he caves instantly. “Fine! Tie my wrists.”

“Good boy,” You smirk, “Now lay on the island like I just did.” You watch as he listens, grumbling all the while about how he wanted to touch you and how this was some bullshit. He’d learn.

Finally, Yoongi is in position and gives out a big sigh like he just went through so much effort. So extra.

You make quick work of his wrists, tying them above his head loosely. “Let me know it gets to be too much for you, okay?” You kiss him softly and swiftly and smile as he tries to chase your lips as you pull back.

You hop onto the island and slowly kneel over Yoongi. Your knees are on either side of his calves as you lean down, arching your back so your ass is high in the air, and then you suck the tip of his cock into your mouth.

The moan that Yoongi emits is so sexy that you almost skip right to sitting on his dick - almost. Instead, you just speed up, swirling your tongue around him and cradling his balls in your palm.

“Fucking hell, baby,” Yoongi rasps out, his eyes squeezed shut, “Your fucking mouth.”

You smile around him and take him further inside your mouth. Yoongi chokes out more curses than you have ever heard before. And when you swallow around him, he groans, “I’m gonna come. Wanna come on your tits.”

You release him with a pop. “No,” You say, sitting back on your heels.

Yoongi’s neck strains as he looks down at you, “Please, (y/n), baby, I need you. Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy.” His head falls back as he smirks slightly, “I can’t believe that you just sucked my dick and that I actually got to eat you out just now. Damn, I don’t know how I got so lucky. Maybe I saved someone famous in my past life. Or maybe I was Spiderman—”

Moving quickly, you settle further up his body, hovering over his cock. Your hand covers Yoongi’s mouth. “Are you malfunctioning? Oh my god, I broke you. And to think I was going to sit on your dick next… That’s too bad. I don't think you can handle it.”

His eyes widen to the size of dinner plates as he stares up at you, “Mmph!” His words are muffled by your palm.

“What’s that?” You tease, leaning down to slowly suck on his nipple, swirling the piercing around with your tongue. “You still want me to?”

This time, you remove your hand so he can reply fully. As soon as your palm leaves, Yoongi cries, “Please, please, please, baby. Take me inside you. I’ll make you feel good, I promise!”

“Well,” You straighten, grabbing his cock and lining him up with your entrance, “Since you asked so nicely.”

Slowly, you sink down. Inch by inch you watch as Yoongi’s face scrunches up as he murmurs your name like a prayer. Finally, you take him all the way inside. “Well, how does it feel, baby?” You grin.

“Like fucking heaven,” He groans, his fists clenching above him as he tries to thrust into you as best he can.

“Relax, baby,” You place a palm on his chest, “Let me take care of you.” With that, you begin to move. Your hips swivel slowly at first and then pick up the pace. You feel him twitching inside you and you know that he’s already close from how well you sucked him off earlier.

You ride him hard, sliding up and down his hard cock and watching his face as you ruin him. His breathing is harsh and his legs begin shaking beneath you, “Fuck, shit, damn, baby, please.”

His words are a garbled mess as you clench down around him, beginning to feel your own orgasm rising. “Don’t you dare come yet, Min Yoongi,” You hiss, leaning back slightly to take him deeper.

“Baby-y, please.” You watch enraptured as a tear slips out of his eye. Yoongi’s abs are clenching and you know he is so fucking close to coming.

“Look at me,” You order, sliding a hand down your body to circle your clit. He listens and groans immediately at the sight of you.

“Watching you ride me makes me want to come even more!” He whines, but nevertheless keeps his eyes on you. You smile and moan softly as you continue to ride him, flicking your clit between your fingers. You’re close now.

Your movements become frantic as you bounce on his cock, your hips shifting over his. You hurtle towards your climax and you tighten around him, “Come.”

Immediately, you feel him come inside you, painting your walls and filling you with warmth. You light up as you come for the second time that night, your walls pulsing around his cock, milking him.

Yoongi is undone underneath you, his head is thrown back, throat on full display. He is muttering something about the sweetest pussy ever and wedding rings. And he looks so good that you can't resist laying down on top of him, kissing his neck. “You good, baby boy?” You smile in between kisses.

“I think you did break me,” He mumbles, his hands settling on your hips. Wait a second…

“How did you untie yourself?” You pout, relaxing into Yoongi’s chest as his hands rub your ass.

“Silk is slippery, babe,” You can practically hear his grin, “But not as slippery as your pus—”

“Min Yoongi!” You cry, hopping off of him. He whines as he slips out of you but then licks his lips as he notices his own cum dripping down your legs.

“Come here,” He crooks a finger at you.

“Make me,” You retort once again, smirking slightly.

He groans, “I don't think I can even move right now if I wanted to. But come on, sit on my face.”

“Wow, such language!” You slap a hand over your heart, “My delicate ears will never recover!”

“You’re the worst,” Yoongi laughs, easing up to sit. “Damn, I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard.”

“Nice,” You nod proudly, “Leave that review on Yelp, please.”

His dark eyes narrow, “Who else is leaving reviews, (y/n)?”

Laughing, you tug on Yoongi’s discarded t-shirt, “Oh, you know, the rest of my harem of flower boys.”

“What!” Yoongi makes a miraculous recovery as he jumps off the island and tugs you to him, “I’m your flower boy, baby. You’ll never need anyone else.”

Smiling widely up at him, you simply reply, “Okay, bloomer.”

a/n: flower meanings sourced from: The Complete Language of Flowers: A Definitive and Illustrated History by S. Theresa Dietz AND The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh [again, meanings differ depending on the source!)

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austarus · 4 years ago

Text

Harrison Wells (Eobard Thawne) x Reader - Integrated Revelations (1/3)

**A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me.

*I attempted a thing where I try to get back into the groove of writing for my murder speed husband... It’s probably shit, but here goes nothing. Sorta another theory I’ve had and had all these scenes connect together. I’m a shit writer so... Also, I’m dying and crying. Hahaha. I literally am dying. My uni work online is being ridiculously overwhelming along with my work hours for school. I really need a week with no deadlines or work just to get caught up with three weeks of work for certain classes. I really need to take a break. But I can’t, started to loose sleep. Can’t even have time to write or play Pokemon Reborn. Anyway, that a bit of an update from me. I wrote this back in July, hoping to have written a fic a week (which turned out to not happen, but hey, I tried) until October to post things. Also this most likely has grammer errors. I’m sorry. Once again, a shit writer. Please don’t forget to comment, like, and reblog. It means a lot to content creators of all kinds!

Word Count: 3584

Part 2 Part 3

“Well...” Eobard’s raspy voice didn’t seem to alarm the two speedsters that had phased into the Time Vault. The futuristic speedster had sat with a leg crossed over the other, and elbow resting on the arm of the chair. “Things just got a lot more complicated, didn't they?” Eobard pushed from the chair, standing up and taking a few steps forward. Nora and Barry looked on, one adorned a look of uncertainty and the other masqueraded his rage and pain through the years. “Barry Allen.” Barry nodded along, gauging the black-haired man’s façade. “But which Barry Allen? Clearly, you're… from a lot later than this one.” Eobard maneuvered his body and pointed to the unconscious form of an earlier Barry Allen.

“Way later.” Barry simply answered, looking indifferent.

“Way later,” Eobard echoed the response, putting emphasis on the word ‘way’. The scientist nodded along, pursuing his lips as his electric blue eyes flickered to Nora. Before anyone could speak, could even move the Time Vault door dematerialized. Nora watched as an earlier version of yourself entered the Vault hurriedly and out of breath. You had entered looking over your shoulder with a tablet in hand. You had been scanning for the supposed Time Wraith that had attacked Barry, but not your present time Barry.

“Eo, I traced-” You froze in place as you turned your gaze forward. Fear crippled your heart as you saw a version of Barry, much older through the years, and a woman not too far off his from his age. You swallowed thickly, clutching the tablet tighter. There’s three Barry Allen’s now?? Who the hell decided to break time? A small throbbing sensation erupted at the back of your head, but you dismissed it. Eobard had swiftly moved to stand in front of you. His eyes connected with yours for a moment.

“You knew?!” The young woman spoke up, stepping forward towards you which caused Eobard to hold out a subtle arm out to the side to keep you behind him. “All those years.” The older man narrowed his eyes at what the female had called out to you. You frowned at her words in confusion. Who is she? An image flashed through your mind of the woman, smiling proudly at Barry while wearing a dark purple and white suit with a yellow emblem. She clearly knows who I am, but… What even happened? Are they from a different future? You pushed away the image to the back of your mind. “How could y-”

“If you even think about touching her, either of you, then you’ll regret ever running back here,” Eobard steely replied. You took a step closer to your speedster boyfriend in case something were to happen and he needed to speed you away to safety. Not that you needed saving, but you were still working on defending yourself via your lessons with the futuristic speedster. So, they’re from the future, and I’m guessing far off from this other Barry, but not too far for him to age too much. You spared a small glance to the cuffed and unconscious Barry Allen on the ground. It hurt your heart to see him vulnerable like that, but Eobard had confided to you his suspicions regarding this Barry Allen. One Barry Allen problem at a time. Taking a breath in, you remained silent and studied the two speedsters that confronted your speedster.

“Let it go.” Barry grabbed onto the speedster’s shoulder, holding her back. Oddly enough, Barry’s words coldly cut through you.

“Now,” Eobard’s cocky attitude returned to him as he established the safety of your presence. He had that kind of affect, putting himself on the air of superiority and intellect with his attitude and words to belittle the person in front of him rightly so to get the desired reaction he wants and anticipates. Eobard knows how to tug on Barry’s strings. “Who's your friend? Let me guess. Jesse Chambers- No. Maybe Lawrence. Wait- Danica Williams-”

“-It doesn't matter who she is.” Barry cut off Eobard’s rattling of names.

You eyed Eobard’s deceptive small smile as he held Barry’s gaze then turned to the young adult. The female remained silent, avoiding Eobard’s icy eyes. “She's your daughter.” You scrunched your face in confusion before the neurons clicked in your head after a few seconds. Lemme guess, she’s a speedster that ran back in time and met a younger version of her father. Weird flex bro, but whatever. You do you. If I was a speedster, I’d do things differently. Obviously not up to scale what with the tampering that Eobard likes to do with the timeline to get his way with things. “You've brought me your daughter.” Your eyes flickered back to Barry before taking another look at the female and seeing a bit of resemblance, other than the fact that she was a speedster like him. Then the article Eo’s been obsessing about did reveal something true. Barry does take Iris as his wife. The West-Allen family. “It's, um... Dawn, if I'm not mistaken.”

“Nora.” The young speedster forced out after briefly glancing at her father.

“Nora. Oh, that's nice.” Eobard turned back to Barry with a smirk, “At least you still have one.” That’s cruel, Eo. “What- Nora- time travel's so weird-”

“Why did you come here?” You found the nerve to speak up, moving to stand beside the man masquerading as Harrison Wells. I’m not going to be afraid; I can’t always cower behind Eobard if something unexpected happens. I need to take things in my own hands. Even if they do find out about- You cleared any evidence of distress at their sudden appearance from your throat, “What do you want?”

“I need him to fix this for me.” Barry held up a broken tube-like device in his hand.

A thought hit the genius scientist instantaneously, his blue eyes widening. Turning your body, you saw Eobard take a few steps backwards, “No...” The headache didn’t go away, instead intensifying slightly by the second. Negative emotions flooded your system at Eobard’s crippling composure. He shook his head at them. “No, if you're here...” Eo turned to face the unconscious Barry, cuffed to his motored wheelchair, pointing to them and him. “And he's here... that means-”

“-You don't get home.” Barry simply stated. Your heart shook, terror and dread feeding into your system at his words. Uncertainty of the future- your future with Eobard- plagued you. How does this all end?

“I get home!” The yellow speedster whipped his head around in agitation, his voice raising with every statement. Barry smirked cruelly as he shook his head. You held your breath at Eobard’s spiking wrath, you hadn’t seen him this angry since General Eiling’s interference with The Flash and Plastique. Even then he’d mask his resentment to pull the strings in the game strategically. “I get home. I go home! I get everything-”

“-You don't go home, Thawne.” The Scarlet Speedster halted the Man in the Yellow Suit. Eobard clenched his jaw. You reached out a hand to rest it on his arm in an attempt to calm him. His eyes met yours for a fraction of a second. You felt the tension hang heavily in the air. “Unless… you help me.” Barry held up his broken device once more, mockingly this time. Your eyes flickered to the ring on his right hand. Similar to Eobard’s. A future version of Cisco must have been able to figure out how to use microtech to compress Barry’s suit. He’s the greatest mechanical engineer that I know. Eobard’s shoulders sagged a fraction as Barry held his ground. Turning around, the genius scientist rubbed his face before kicking the spare Barry in annoyance. Barry, all clad in black, winced because he probably ended up feeling that kick. You and Nora remained silent, eyeing the exchange between both speedsters.

Eobard shifted his body back, hands on his hips and fueled hatred present in his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Like I said, you're gonna fix this for me.”

“To do what?”

“Drain dark matter.”

What could Barry possibly need with Dark Matter? Hasn’t it done enough damage? “Whose dark matter?” You crossed your arms with the tablet close to your chest, a frown on your face as Eobard stepped beside you once more.

“None of your business.” Barry sneered at you. You narrowed your eyes at his demeanor, the young man who you gradually grew close to and considered as another brother like Cisco.

“Barry-”

“-It is our business.” Eobard retorted, taking your hand in his tightly. Both men were frustrated at the others persistence.

“No, it's not.”

Eobard started, letting go of you and rounding heatedly on to Barry, “There's no chance that I help you-”

You reached a hand out. “-Eobard, don’t-”

- It's none of your business-”

“-Cicada's!” Nora blurted out. Silence filled the room between the four of your, outbursts settling. You blinked a few times, taking a step back and resting a palm against your temple. Grimacing, you cast your eyes down as images of a half-masked man in green stood with a dagger. A glowing dagger with a look of emptiness and death in his eyes. That man looks dead to the world, as if willing to kill for an estranged purpose. It’s so cold. You shook your head subtly and stood your ground, unwilling to show weakness, but you saw Nora’s eyes shift when she looked at you. Barry eyed his daughter with a sort of incredulous look while a calculating and analytical look flashed through Eobard’s eyes.

“Cicada's.” The name seemed so familiar to Eobard as it easily slipped of his tongue. The hushed tone in Eobard’s voice expressed a calm before the storm. A deceptive man full of secrets and knowledge of many, many years to come. Especially when it came to The Flash. “The one who got away. You want to destroy Cicada's dagger, don't you?”

“We want to save lives.”

A cynical laugh leaves your speedster’s lips as you pursed yours, trying to tease out the logics from Barry. “You want to save lives.” Eobard chuckled mockingly at Barry’s response. “I bet you do. I bet you do. Especially your own, right, Barry Allen?”

“Look, that me,” Barry pointed to the other version of himself in the room, “he's gonna wake up soon. He sees me standing here, your whole timeline is gonna be blown to hell. You're never gonna get home. You know that's true!”

“I know! I know!” Eobard sighed, his facial expression contorted, and his eyes held a different motive as he flicked his gaze to Nora, who hadn’t stop taking glimpses of you. “Where are my manners? Can I get you a cup of water?” You rolled your eyes at Eobard’s ploy.

***

The four of you had moved to the small lab, far from the Cortex in avoidance of Caitlin and Cisco. The timeline was a fickle thing to speedsters, Eobard had told you that. But oddly enough, when it came to Eobard it seemed to be malleable to his every whim. Tools and spare wires littered along the desk your speedster boyfriend was working at. The monitor held a camera feed of the Time Vault where Barry’s unconscious younger version was still unconscious.

How hard did Eobard hit him? Like, how the hell is he still asleep even through all that yelling and seething??

“Here,” you handed Nora a bottle of purified water.

“Thanks,” she quietly spoke, you nodded at her. You really didn’t know what to think about someone who knew you in the future, yet you had no idea who she would be until a few years later. Would I even still be in this time period by then? Or would Eobard had kept his promise? … Nothing’s making any sense right now. You felt frustrated for not really being part of their conversations. You were… just there.

“So, who made this?” Eobard examined the piece of teach as he started working on it.

Barry answered with pocketed hands, “Someone smarter than you.”

“I doubt that,” You snorted as Eobard laughed at Barry’s statement. Leaning against the dark blue beam of the side lab, you crossed your arms avoiding Barry’s gaze when he glanced over to you. You chewed on the inside of your cheek. “If so, then why come here? Why go through all the trouble to come here when you can get help from the person who made it? Why then would you need Eobard’s help?”

“We-”

“It’s… complicated,” Barry sighed before Nora could finish saying anything, pocketing his hands.

“I think that’s an understatement to the type of trouble that seems to find you, Barr.” You crossed your arms. “At least a Time Wraith didn’t follow you this time. Which I’m still having trouble tracking down.” You nodded to his former self on the monitor. Barry rolled his eyes at you.

“You know, Allen,” the yellow speedster wheeled around, electric blue eyes meeting Barry’s green gaze, “for your plan to work, you're gonna actually have to have his dagger in your possession...”

“We've got that covered.”

The villainous speedster raised an eyebrow at the forensics scientists. “You got that covered. How’s that?” He humored them.

“With this.” Nora pulled out a dark piece of metal, holding it out for you and Eobard to observe momentarily.

“What is that?” You piqued up, causing Nora to look over at you. An odd emotion flickered in her eyes. Eobard reached a hand out to it only for Barry to pluck it from Nora’s grasp. Your eyes flickered between the two then back to Nora. She didn’t seem to be cautious around you and Eobard at all. Revealing the reason for aid and showing Eobard exactly what he seemed to want to see. You weren’t a genius, but you obviously saw the pointed looks that Barry subtly gave his daughter. The cogs were turning in your head as well as in Eobard’s. He masked his growing speculation about the two speedsters.

“Is that-”

“It's a piece of Savitar's suit, yeah.” Barry stoically responded, since Nora had already shown Eobard the metallic piece, to Eobard’s oncoming question before he could even finish. Barry knew Eobard recognized the object, shaking his head that that cat was out of the bag for this secret too.

“Savitar?”

“Savitar. The Future Flash and the self-proclaimed God of Speed, kitten,” Eobard simply explained as he worked. Images of a metallic suit flashed through your mind as it hummed with energy; a familiar face shrouded in shadows and a hauntingly course voice. “A twisted time remnant of the man you know to be your friend. Another big bad that Barry’s had to face in the future, primarily due to the mistakes of his growing unhappiness. Isn’t that right, Flash? The pain you’ve caused the people around you just for you selfish wishes.” Barry rolled his eyes but remained silent.

“Eobard, play nice,” you scolded the older man, “they’re still guests here after all.”

“Hmph. You know what's funny about your dad, Nora,” the futuristic genius caught her attention, “is he hates me. Hates me with a passion, and yet a version of him, this Savitar, is a much bigger jerk than I ever was. Did you see the face?” Eobard gestured to his own face, primarily to one side of his face while snickering “Did you- did you see the, like, pizza face-” Nora awkwardly stepped from foot to foot, looking away.

“-Pizza face?-” Eobard Tiberius Thawne you owe me so many fucking answers when we get home because these images aren’t making as much sense as they should.

“-Can you hurry up?-”

“-Yeah, I'll hurry up.” Eobard smugly nonchalantly threw the tiny screwdriver onto the desk. He picked up a different on. “I gotta tell you, Allen, using Savitar's suit, it's a smart idea.”

Barry tilted his head to his daughter. “It was hers.”

Eobard gave her a hard look. His eyes flickered towards you then turned around. “Clever girl.” You picked up an odd indication in his tone. The speedster narrowed his eyes at the tech as he ignited it, illuminating in his hands to signal its functioning aspect. On the monitor, the four of you noticed that the other Barry was coming to consciousness. Eobard inhaled silently. “Oops.” Eobard swiveled his body around to hand them the piece of tech. “Gotta go.” Barry narrowed his eyes, quiet hatred behind them as he took the tech from his nemesis. “I still look forward to seeing how this all pans out. Nora. Kitten, make sure they see their way out,” Eo glanced at you one last time before speeding away in a torrent of red-lightning to the Time Vault. The three of you watched as the villainous speedster reclaimed his rightful place, crossing his legs once more. An analytical look across his features.

You spoke before the two speedsters sped away in a torrent of lightning. “Cicada’s the one with the lightning-shaped dagger, the one that glows ominously? Heartless eyes? Breathing problems?”

“Yeah? How did you…?” Nora trailed off. Barry figured that your powers were still manifesting themselves and it seems that their run back in time has triggered sporadic post-cognitive images to be revealed through certain key words.

“It doesn’t matter how-,”

“Your powers are still developing,” Barry interjected, pocketing the tech safely. “It seems that our visit has amplified what you can do. Let’s just what it doesn’t shift anything else”

He knows about my powers… Right, time travel. “Just be safe. I-I don’t know too much and I’m not sure what the future holds, but whatever trouble you two have run into just be cautious. Not for me, but for the ones you love. The past will always have some sort of domino effect to the future. I may not be able to time travel, but Eobard has taught me a thing or two about it.” You stopped, looking off to the side while rubbing your arm. “Barry?”

“Hmm?”

“Just answer me this one thing.”

“… It depends.”

“I know, timeline and speedster stuff. But…” You took a breath in, “Is he safe?” The speedster avoided your eyes. You swallowed thickly, moving your gaze to Nora. “Does he live?” She opened her mouth a fraction, moved by the desperation evident in your eyes

“I can’t answer that.” Barry whispered without hesitation, an alien emotion behind those eyes, replacing the kindness and warmth the Barry you knew had. It was bitter. “Nora, it’s time to go back to the night it all began.” Barry flashed away to the pipeline. Nora remained.

“I’m sorry,” She whispered, your body felt numb at the absence of answers. You turned back to the monitor, running both hands through your hair before picking up a spare tool and frustratingly throwing it at the wall. Picking up the tablet once more, you ran some algorithms and diagnostics privately on your powers as you made you way to the Time Vault.

Eobard’s head perked up in question at your entrance. He remained seated catching your troubled look. You only whispered, “We need to talk after this is over,” before leaning against the wall and tapping at the screen of your tablet. He hadn’t missed the embittered look in your eyes, the prominent frown on your face. A peculiar emotion hidden behind those lovely eyes of yours when the speedster had been so accustomed to seeing lights and twinkling of stars within your irises.

Eobard rubbed his wrist as he attained messy hair due to Barry and Nora’s revelations. You speculated he had been running his hands through it in thought as he tried to decipher the truth and what his next plan of action would be. King vs King. Eobard and Barry. It was a dangerous game and it’s clear that Team Flash are Barry’s pieces to move while Iris was by his side. From the future’s perspective. But you… at this point, you hazard a thought of what Eobard saw of you as. Queen… or Pawn. Pursing your lips, you shoved those thoughts away as your mind reminded you of all you and he had gone through since he had revealed himself and his truth to you. But right now, you were feeling so conflicted and insecure at how everything would play out. He promised to take me home with him… That we could start a life together. I don’t want to be used up and thrown away again. I’m tired of being broken and alienated.

The restrained Barry shifted once more in abrupt confusion as he found himself slumped against the cool metal of Eobard’s motorized wheelchair. A prop to his act. His mind felt foggy and arms felt heavy, particularly his right hand. You stopped tapping and eyed him indifferently because you really had no idea how to feel, but you realized you need to be cautious with how you act and what you say until you and Eobard clear things up from earlier events.

Barry’s eyes darted rapidly to the seated, smirking speedster in front of him then to you then to the metacuffs before lingering back to Harrison. The Scarlet Speedster assessed the guarded expression on your face. You saw this Barry feign confusion, eyebrows raised as he eyed the metacuffs and Dr. Wells. You cracked your neck as Eobard did a little hand-wave gesture to Barry. The young speedster looked baffled, probably at getting caught, as he opened and closed his mouth.

“Now, who are you?”

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justalittletomato · 4 years ago

Text

Realizing if Aster gets in on a Ghost Crew mission she tries keep her helmet on as much as possible.

It’s not that people will recognize her personally but they will recognize what she is...and Aster is a rarity.

Just an idea below (considering just how rare Dathomirian Zabraks are and for the tomato kids...it’s not welcome)

It’s that pirate that talks to Ezra who points it out: A dathomirian is rare...a red female more so, and one so young, best you hide her well.

There is a occasion...her helmet held away. Aster growling and gold eyes bright, her captor is staring at her with interest.

A rarity indeed. Perfect and from what has been tossed around that there is a another one just like this beauty here. A little one but still just as remarkable . A set would be nice.

Aster flinches when the captor gets closer, “ Where have they been hiding you?”

“Away from filth like you! Don’t you dare get closer!” Aster snarls and yelps when her captor grabs her hair.

“ A muzzle might calm you down,” she shivers, “Such a beautiful thing, you’ll make a fine addition” she doesn’t want to delve into what is being implied, “and if it’s true your little friend will join you”

Aster feels her body grow cold then blazing in an instant.

Dani....her captor means to take Danica as well...Aster bares her teeth. She will never let such a thing happen to Danica or herself!

——-

She puts her helmet back on as she runs off, away from the captor and beside Ezra who apologizes profusely. He was supposed to be there...he was supposed to be..

She can’t hear him all she can think of is her captor swearing that Aster will be his....

The galaxy is a dangerous place...part of her wishing she never stepped away from the safety of her red sky and the fortress from the stars above.

——

*upon his missions Maul hears of a collector in search of a female Zabrak. A red one with a crown of horns. From the corner of his eyes he sees Aster’s profile projected and the excited buzz of hunters and other collectors.

Unbridled rage fills him upon hearing certain words and comments and before he takes another breath his saber is lit and he’s tearing through each person in the room who dared look at the projection.

The main collector wheezes as Maul strangles him. You dare think of her in such a way...you dare put a price on her...the collector is already dead before Maul stops.

But it isn’t over...this projection has been shared in the underground. Maul grabs the holopad and crushes it.

Shes been marked....she’s been detected...his Aster isn’t safe...

@hannagoldworthy (your latest chapters made me consider this issue) @apocalypticwafflekitten @spookiifi @literatureandqueen @dvthomir @any59

#aster #maul #star wars #dad!maul #baby tomato #tomato princess #what did I just type????#but also this is likely something to consider #this little group is rare....#which is really bad

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valkyrieofthehighfae · 4 years ago

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A collection of quotes

Thought I would do a little something fun and start up a little collection of quotes from my OCs! It’s definitely a post that’ll get updated fairly often, so be on the lookout for new quotes from the gang!

Valkyrie:

"Pff amateur. I've already started drinking again.”

“In retrospect, that was stupid. The working title of my memoir”

“I wasn’t planning on going for a run today. But then those cops came out of nowhere.”

“Don’t break anybody’s heart, they only have one. Break their bones, they have 206”

"Trust no man, fear no bitch"

"I wasn't ready for half the shit I went through, but obviously I was built for it.”

“You walked into my life when I apparently needed you most. And for that, I will always be grateful”

“Do not tell me what I can and cannot do”

“Personally I’m both fucked up and misunderstood”

“What’s a girl gotta do to get into a proper brawl around here?”

“Filled with poison but blessed with beauty and rage”

“Say a prayer to the gods friend and let’s drink like we’ll be going to Valhalla tomorrow”

“If you want change, you have to invite the chaos”

“A healer’s hands are often the most bloody. We cut out infection and tell death not today when we get a win. So raise a glass to those who do the bloody work and praise the gods for their skills”

“I had to fight like hell and fighting like hell has made me what I am”

Danica:

“What - and I cannot stress this enough - the fuck?”

“You’re stronger than you think. You’ll always be stronger than you think. Feel with your heart and do what you want”

“Everything you feel is temporary”

“I look at you, and I just love you, and it terrifies me. It terrifies me what I would do for you”

"I'm sorry, I don't take orders. I barely take suggestions"

“Some people are just born with tragedy in their blood”

“Because I’m not human, okay? I don’t work the way you do. I don’t feel things the way you do. I feel everything all the more deeply and it leaves me aching every time”

“I get lost in pretending to be human”

“I don’t like being told what to do”

Keres:

"I wear heels bigger than your dick. Move along peasant, you're not worthy of speaking to me"

“I woke up today and spun the wheel of attitude. Yep! It landed on bitch again!”

“I became a monster to survive a monster”

“I’m scared as hell to want you. But here I am, wanting you anyway.”

“You found parts of me I didn’t know existed and in you I found a love I no longer believed was real”

“And what is it you think I need? Love? Only men need to be loved, sweetheart. Women need to be wanted”

"I won't be remembered as a woman who keeps her mouth shut. I'm okay with that"

"I'm not a hero, I don't do good. It's not in me"

"The only person I've ever genuinely been afraid of is my mother"

"I'm not the good guy, remember? I'm the selfish one. I take what I want, I do what I want. I don't do the right thing. And I hurt everyone around me because it's easier to hurt people than it is to let them in and let myself be loved"

"I never had a chance to be soft. I was always bloody knuckles and shards of glass. I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me"

“Kneel before me”

“I stopped being a child the day you sent me down here to die”

“I’m afraid of what I’ve become”

“I’m everything you can’t control”

Ashlyn:

“I just know I’ll die trying to pet something that I shouldn’t”

“I am my ancestors’ wildest dream”

“You have me. Until every last star in the galaxy dies, you have me”

“How terrible is it to love something that death can touch?”

“I’m sorry that you were not truly loved and that it made you cruel”

Natalya:

“Apparently ‘spite’ and ‘vengeance’ are not an appropriate answer to ‘what motivates you’”

“I am not responsible for what my face does when you talk to me”

"I'm tough. I'm ambitious and I know exactly what I want. If that makes me a bitch, okay"

“Once I got my sight back, it’s all over for you, class acts”

“Clever as the Devil and twice as pretty”

“I am not a stranger to the dark”

“I know what I want and I’m going to get it”

“They broke the wrong parts of me. They broke my wings and forgot I had claws”

“I’m coming for my crown”

Nyx:

“My mother didn’t raise a fool. A cold-hearted bitch perhaps, but not a fool”

“I’m not just beautiful. I’m otherworldly and vaguely threatening”

"Know your worth. Then add tax"

“Anger makes you stupid. Stupid gets you killed. So be smart about going after your enemies. Goad them into making mistakes and you will slaughter them. Victory will be at hand and history will remember that you didn’t even have to raise a hand in violence to achieve it”

“A wolf is a wolf. Even in a cage. Even dressed in silk.”

“Don’t play games with me. Don’t ever, ever think you’re capable of that”

Briar:

“Maybe my mom was right all those years ago. Maybe I won’t be happy until someone loses an eye. Maybe that’s what’s been missing”

"Once again I'm falsely accused of whatever I'm being accused of. Falsely"

“Ah, there he is. That motherfucker. What a tool”

“If I can still breathe, I’m fine”

“The Fae? Fuck the Fae. Bunch of stuck up asswipes is what they are”

Rune:

“If I say ‘first of all’, run away because I have prepared research, data, charts, and I will destroy you”

“I have neither the time nor crayons to explain it to you”

“Why do you bad-touch words like that?”

“Take a deep breath and remember who the fuck you are”

“Blah, blah, blah… shut up”

Hally:

“I gotta see the candy first. Then I get in the van. I’m not stupid”

“I woke up this morning and I chose chaos”

“That’s the world. Everything you build, it tears down. Everything you’ve got, it takes. The only choices you get are to lie down or keep going. That’s as close to beating the world as anyone gets.”

“In my defense, I was left unsupervised”

“Chill, it’s only chaos”

Blade:

“I whatever'd when I should have hell no’ed”

“The big ass spider in my room is now named Cotton Eyed Joe because I want to know two things: where did he come from, where did he go”

“That’s not very punk of you”

Aurelia:

“ℐ 𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓇ℯ𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓉ℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓂ℴ𝓇ℯ 𝒷ℯ𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈ℯ ℴ𝒻 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓇ℴ𝒶𝒹 ℐ 𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓋ℯ𝓁ℯ𝒹. ℳ𝓎 𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓇𝓎 𝒷𝓇ℴ𝓊ℊ𝒽𝓉 𝓂ℯ 𝓉ℴ 𝓎ℴ𝓊, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 ℐ 𝓌ℴ𝓊𝓁𝒹𝓃’𝓉 𝓇ℯ𝓋𝒾𝓈ℯ 𝒶 𝓌ℴ𝓇𝒹 ℴ𝒻 𝓂𝓎 𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝒻 𝒾𝓉 𝓁ℯ𝒹 𝓂ℯ 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓌𝒽ℯ𝓇ℯ 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓎ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝒹ℴℴ𝓇“

Sylvain:

“She was a child that was forced to grow up”

"I was worried that you had no humanity left inside you. That you might have actually become the monster that you pretend to be"

“If you look at what you have in life, you’ll always have more. If you look at what you don’t have in life, you’ll never have enough”

#Kat writes #quotes from the OC squad #Corey Taylor quotes #I believe one of Sylvain's is an Oprah quote #some of these are Varric Tethras quotes as well #there's a Gemma quote in Keres' list as well

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alystayr · 5 years ago

Text

Playlist musicale 2020 (1/2)

Liste des chansons (playlist 2020 - part. 1)

Mise à jour : 30 juin 2020

playlist 2020 (part.2), playlist 2020 (part. 1)

playlist 2019 (part.2), playlist 2019 (part. 1)

playlist 2018 (part. 2), playlist 2018 (part. 1)

playlist 2017 (part. 2), playlist 2017 (part. 1)

playlist 2016 (part. 2), playlist 2016 (part. 1)

playlist 2015

0-9 #

2Pac (Feat. Talent) - Changes (1998)

AC/DC - Who Made Who (1986)

Jeanne Added - Before The Sun (2018)

Aerosmith - Janie's Got A Gun (1989)

The Afghan Whigs - Debonair (1993)

Damon Albarn - Everyday Robots (2014)

Alice In Chains - Would? (1992)

Arcade Fire - Rebellion (Lies) (2004)

Archive - Bullets (2009)

Arno - Putain Putain (1983)

Asaf Avidan - Lost Horse (2020)

the B52’s - Rock Lobster (1979)

Axel Bauer - Eteins La Lumière (1990)

Bauhaus - She's In Parties (1983)

The Beach Boys - Darlin’ (1967)

Beck - Wow (2016)

Bénabar - Dis-lui oui (2003)

Louis Bertignac - C'est fini (2018)

Björk - Oceania (2004)

Neal Black & The Healers - Before daylight (2014)

The Black Crowes - Remedy (1992)

The Black Keys - Psychotic Girl (2008)

Black Rebel Motorcycle Club - Let the Day Begin (2013)

blink-182 - First Date (2001)

Blur - Out Of Time (2003)

David Bowie - Modern Love (1983)

Georges Brassens - La non-demande en mariage (1966)

The Breeders - Glorious (1990)

James Brown - Living in America (from Rocky IV) (1986)

Kate Bush - Running Up That Hill (1985)

The Byrds - Turn! Turn! Turn! (To Everything There Is A Season) (1965)

Cage The Elephant (Feat. Iggy Pop) - Broken Boy (2019)

Cake - Commissioning a Symphony in C (2001)

J.J. Cale - After Midnight (1972)

Cali - Elle M'a Dit (2003)

Johnny Cash (cover Merle Travis) - Sixteen Tons (1987)

Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!! (2008)

Ray Charles - Georgia On My Mind (1960)

Cigarettes After Sex - You're All I Want (2020)

CocoRosie - Restless (2020)

Leonard Cohen - Happens to the Heart (2019)

Coolio (feat. L.V.) - Gangsta's Paradise (from Dangerous Minds) (1995)

The Coral - The Operator (2005)

Creedence Clearwater Revival - I Heard It Through The Grapevine (1970)

The Crimea - Opposite Ends (2005)

Christine and the Queens - La vita nuova (2020)

Crosby, Stills & Nash - Long Time Gone (1969)

Death In Vegas - Hands Around My Throat (2002)

Deftones - Be Quiet And Drive (Far Away) (1997)

Depeche Mode - Never Let Me Down Again (1987)

dEUS - Roses (1996)

Dirty Pretty Things - Gin and Milk (2006)

Dope Lemon - Hey You (2019)

Baxter Dury - Slumlord (2019)

Jacques Dutronc - L'opportuniste (1969)

Bob Dylan - False Prophet (2020)

Echo & The Bunnymen - The Killing Moon (1984)

Eels - Blinking Lights (For Me) (2005)

Billie Eilish - No Time To Die (2020)

Electric Light Orchestra - Mr. Blue Sky (1977)

Eminem - Darkness (2020)

Eurythmics - Sexcrime (Nineteen Eighty-Four) (1984)

Faith No More - Falling to Pieces (1989)

Mylène Farmer - Ainsi Soit Je (1988)

Feu! Chatterton - La Malinche (2015)

Izo FitzRoy - Red Line (2020)

Foals - Neptune (2019)

Peter Gabriel - Red Rain (1986)

Serge Gainsbourg - Elisa (1969)

Liam Gallagher - Once (2019)

Gorillaz - Feel Good Inc. (2005)

Grand Corps Malade - Je Viens De Là (2008)

La Grande Sophie - Une vie (2019)

Green Day - Father of All... (2020)

Johnny Hallyday (cover The Animals) - Le Pénitencier (1964)

George Harrison - My Sweet Lord (1970)

Murray Head - One Night In Bangkok (1984)

Heartless Bastards - Hold Your Head High (2009)

Hole - Malibu (1998)

How to Destroy Angels - The Space in Between (2010)

IAM (feat. Kalash) - Eldorado (2019)

Idir - A vava inouva (1976)

Interpol - Everything Is Wrong (2014)

Izïa - Trop vite (2019)

Jack The Ripper - I was born a cancer (2005)

The Jesus And Mary Chain - Just Like Honey (1985)

Janis Joplin - Me And Bobby McGee (1971)

Joy Division - Decades (1980)

Gene Kelly - Singing In The Rain (1952)

The Kills - Tape Song (2008)

B.B. King - Sweet Little Angel (1956)

Eric Kinny (Feat. Danica Dora) - Last Goodbye (2019)

Mark Lanegan - Bleed All Over (2020)

Led Zeppelin - The Ocean (1973)

Life - Bum Hour (2019)

Limp Bizkit - Nookie (1999)

Little Richard Long Tall Sally (1955)

Lofofora - Les Gens (1999)

Emily Loizeau - Coconut Madam (2009)

Clara Luciani - La grenade (2018)

Stephen Malkmus - Shadowbanned (2020)

Manu - Entre deux eaux (2019)

Mesparrow - The Symphony (2013)

Metallica - Sad But True (1991)

Pat Metheny (cover The Beatles) - And I Love Her (2011/1964)

Joni Mitchell - Blue (1971)

Moloko - The Time Is Now (2000)

Barry Moore - The Tide (2019)

Morcheeba - Part of the Process (1998)

Ennio Morricone - Et pour quelques dollars de plus (1965)

Morrissey - The Truth About Ruth (2020)

Alison Mosshart - Rise (2020)

Jean-Louis Murat - Si je m'attendais / Troie (2020)

Muse - Time Is Running Out (2003)

Yael Naim - Daddy (2020)

Willie Nelson - On The Road Again (1980)

Nine Inch Nails - Every Day is Exactly the Same (2005)

Noir Désir - Joey Part I (1989)

Nothing But Thieves - Forever & Ever More (2018)

Natalia Nykiel - Volcano (2019)

Agnes Obel - The Curse (2013)

Ozzy Osbourne (Feat. Elton John) - Ordinary Man (2020)

Paz - Ta peau (2020)

Pearl Jam - Dance Of The Clairvoyants (2020)

Pierre Perret - Lily (1977)

Lucky Peterson (cover Prince) - Purple Rain (1997)

Tom Petty - Runnin’ Down A Dream (1989)

Pink Floyd - Young Lust (1979)

Pixies - Catfish Kate (2019)

Pomme - Je sais pas danser (2019)

Iggy Pop - Loves Missing (2019)

Popa Chubby - Life Is a Beatdown (2004)

Elvis Presley - Jailhouse Rock (1957)

Eddy de Pretto - Kid (2018)

Puscifer - The Green Valley (2011)

Queen - The Show Must Go On (1991)

R.E.M. - Man On The Moon (1992)

Radiohead - House of Cards (2007)

Rage Against The Machine - Testify (1999)

Red Hot Chili Peppers - Snow (Hey Oh) (2006)

Lou Reed - Vicious (1972)

Catherine Ringer & Iggy Pop (cover Screamin' Jay Hawkins) - I Put A Spell On You (2018/1956)

Rival Sons - Jordan (2012)

The Rolling Stones - Jumpin' Jack Flash (1968)

Saez - J'accuse (2010)

Santana (cover Tito Puente) - Oye Como Va (1956/1970)

Siouxsie And The Banshees - Happy House (1980)

Slipknot - Psychosocial (2008)

The Smashing Pumpkins - Rhinoceros (1991)

Patti Smith - Because the Night (1978)

The Smiths - Stretch out and Wait (1986)

Soan - Emily (2009)

MC Solaar - Nouveau Western (1994)

Alain Souchon - C'est déjà ça (1993)

Soundgarden - Outshined (1991)

Spoon - Can I Sit Next To You (2017)

Bruce Springsteen - Streets of Philadelphia (from Philadelphia) (1993)

Steelers Wheel - Stuck In The Middle With You (from Reservoir Dogs) (1992)

Sting - Fragile (1987)

Joss Stone - Right To Be Wrong (2004)

The Stranglers - Skin Deep (1984)

The Strokes - At The Door (2020)

System Of A Down - Forest (2001)

Tame Impala - Breathe Deeper (2020)

Têtes Raides - Le phare (1992)

Hubert-Félix Thiéfaine - La fille du coupeur de joints (2015/1978)

Tool - Vicarious (2006)

Tricky - Nothing’s Changed (2013)

The Twilight Singers - On The Corner (2011)

Twin Peaks - Making Breakfast (2014)

U2 - I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For (1987)

Stevie Ray Vaughan - Crossfire (1989)

Tom Waits - Gun Street Girl (1985)

Muddy Waters - Rolling Stone (Catfish Blues) (1950)

Roger Waters (cover Pïnk Floyd) - Mother (1979/2020)

Weezer - Hero (2020)

Erika Wennerstrom - Extraordinary Love (2018)

Jack White - Lazaretto (2014)

Emily Jane White - Washed Away (2019)

The White Stripes - The Denial Twist (2005)

Woodkid - Goliath (2020)

Neil Young - Down by the River (1969)

Hans Zimmer - S.T.A.Y. (Interstellar theme song) (2014)

#Listes #Musique #Playlist #2020 #Music #Rock #OST #Pop #Electro #Blues #Soundtrack

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housedzemael-archived · 5 years ago

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Lost and Found

Orlaux Voss, once dee Dzemael, has spent the past twenty years searching high and low through dangerous lands looking for his hope. After the fall of Ala Mhigo, and the death of his wife Maerwynn, his missing Daughter (and unknown to him, Warrior of Light) Danica in hopes that even with the two of them, family and home can be found again.

AKA Welcome to My Adventure in making my Main's Dad first a retainer and then an Alt and now he's demanding fiction explaining how he found his Daughter that I'm too willing to write. For the most part is just Noir Lancer Dad.

Archive Link

Chapter One: Hope Thine Name is Wyrmblood

It started simple enough. A strange lancer much like myself, so very far from home, half swallowed by his cup in a bar seedier than a pomegranate. White hair, grey eyes, exhaustion of something greater than war written across his face, I had half the mind to try to get his story but what he said damped curiosity's flame.

“You’re eyes. Familiar.” He murmured more into his ale than to me. I tensed, normally such declarations are punctuated by blades to my gut. My mask of indifference, honed from years in Ishgard and once again in use since the fall of my dearest Ala Mhigo, gave no outward sign of my fear, only raising a single eyebrow in query. When he didn’t continue, I cautiously goaded my foe.

“Oh? Strange.” I laughed, my cup to my lips, thankful my hands didn’t betray the thoughts in my mind by shaking. God’s it had been years since I had dealt with any of my families assassins, I had hoped they had finally left me to my own devices. “Most of the time I’ve been told they’re freakishly unique. Gold and Green as they are.��

The stranger dropped his eyes from me to his glass, his fingers tightening around it, twisting it aimlessly as the bartender did everything he could to avoid both of us. For good reason, I imagine. We both look the part of the angry loner, he more than I honestly. I leaned back, my glass empty, and slide gil across the counter, hoping eventually the bartender will risk serving us for the glinting gold on the table.

“What’s familiar about them?” I probed once again. “I don’t recall ever meeting you before ser...” I let the words hang in the air, and attempted to give a reassuring smile. He didn’t look up to see it, but he did shake his head.

“Estinien. Estinien Wyrmblood.” He looked back at me, finally, but pointedly avoids looking me in the eye. Uncomfortable. Cornered. A state I’ve been in before, but I needed to know where he’s seen these strange mismatched eyes before. I needed to know if this twenty year vigil was at an end, without a body to bury on the other side. Did dare I hope? Yes. Hopes all that's kept me going over the years.

“Well then Ser Wyrmblood, I’m Orlaux. Lovely to make your acquaintances, but that still doesn’t answer my question.” I cracked a smile, the one that wins me jobs and pays my tabs, and prevents people from asking for my surname. He seemed to relax a bit. The gears in his mind turning slowly. Figuring how much he wanted to tell a stranger, smart boy really, tired and more world weary than he should be but smart all the same. I would have been lying if I said I wasn’t trying to figure out the exact amount myself. Dangerous to overshare. Dangerous to undershare.

“I’ve seen them before, but on someone else.” Words fell from his lips like slow melting ice, setting me on edge even as I was grateful for the progress. He ran a nervous hand through his hair, and grimaced as it caught on some knot. “A friend of mine. Better than I deserve. Defended me. Saved my life.”

Saved his life ey? My mind tried to connect the last image I had of my daughter with an older, wiser, and kinder woman. Perhaps a healer, or guard, or perhaps she’d follow after her mother and pick up a rapier and venture. Someone out there helping the world. I could not help but crack a smile, and my mask, at such a thought. “Oh? What’s her name? Perhaps I have some heroic cousin I should be bragging to my family about.”

He tensed, and I immediately knew I’ve overstepped something, slipped up somehow. This time it was he who got defensive, snapping his eyes towards mine and squinting with all the rage he can muster, or at least that he can contain in his moderately inebriated state. I could smell the booze coming off of him even before I sat next to him and heard his murmuring about my eyes. He went to open his mouth, but was stopped by the approach of the bartender, who sweeps up my gil and goes to refill us both.

“Or their name, or his name, though from memory most of my venturing’ cousins prefer feminine pronouns.” I covered my own ass with a half hearted lie. I doubt a sober companion would have bought them, but hopefully a drunken one did. It’s hard to tell with the permanent scowl on this Estinien’s face. He didn’t look at me again, instead, turning his gaze to his own reflection in his cup, colored gold by the liquor inside. I could have counted this out as a failed lead, nothing more than the drunken ramblings of a lonely Dragoon, when he spoke again.

“She doesn’t have any family,” His words once more to himself more than to me, “Hasn’t for a long time.” He shakes his head hair falling in front of his eyes, blocking his own reflection, and exhales audibly. I watched him carefully, while attempting not to appear as if I was doing so. Failing terrible honestly, but thankfully he was too enthralled by his drink to notice. “Plus, you don’t strike me as a Mhigan, not with a spear like that. What took you out of Ishgard?”

He looked up, and I caught him taking a glance at a black scarf tied around the neck of his own spear, instead of mine, as he tried to redirect the questions away from himself. A ragged little thing, more grey than truly black anymore, with a time worn symbol of the Destroyer embroidered onto it. I gritted my teeth and think, deciding to leave my answer up to fate and down my drink instead of replying.

“Ala Mhigo did.” Honesty, I always told her to be Honest, best practice what I preach. “A Wanderer in Red stole something from, not something I wanted back, but something I was willing to follow her for.” The thought of my stolen love, my dearest Maerwynn, stalls my tongue for but a second. I blinked, even though I know I’ve no more tears to hold, and feel naught but the hollow ache in my chest.

“Wanderer in Red...” He repeated after me, sitting up right, making his own choices, hearing some familiar in my words. “They tend to do that, don’t they?” He faced me and gave me a once over I’m too busy wishing away my memories to notice. I traced the scar on my face absently, cursing its very existence. Perhaps, perhaps if it wasn’t there and I had been at home the Garleans would have never gotten to her. To either of them.

“Her name is Danica,” His words snap me from my self pity, and I can’t stop my eyes from going wide. I feel my heart skip a beat and hope course through my veins like oxygen. A breath of fresh air in my face after years, nay, decades of stagnation. My rational mind tried to will this away, at least to a reasonable level, but my heart is so overcome with joy I cannot help but show it on my face. I fear the smile may unsettle, but in fact it seemed to relax him. A curiosity for another day, another night of pondering. He looked away, back to his drink, sadly finding it empty.

I need to know more. This name, this dearest matching name. Eyes like mine. A Hero, a friend. My mind moved faster than it could possibly make coherent sentences, in the end I blurted out my next question with such force Estinien jumps a bit.

“Where is she?”

Startled, he blinked, and I once again fear I had faltered. I glanced to the bartender, though I know fate isn’t keen on giving second chances, let alone thirds, and then to him. Finding the red face of someone who truly three sheets to the wind. “Last I saw her she was in Ishgard. Tired, Happy that the Dragonsong war didn’t claim another of her friends.”

And what once was boiling blood, filled with hope and joy and images of being reunited with a daughter I’ve searched so damn long for freezes in my veins.

Ishgard.

Of course she had to be in fucking Ishgard. She had to be within stabbing distance of my family, she had to be in danger. She had to be where if I was seen, I’d be chased out with pitchforks and torches bought with nobles money or worse. Branded a heretic and executed in some fun and brutal way where accepting my death would prove my innocence. A land even more dangeorus for me than fucking Garlemald.

Yet. I would still go.

Even for the chance, the hope, that his Danica and my Dani were one in the same. That I’d walk into the Forgotten Knight decades after I last left it and see my daughter enjoying a fine evening surrounded by friends and those who care for her and see her smile up at me again like when she was small and asking for bedtime stories about heroes and dragons. Even if she wasn’t with friends, even if she was alone, even if she didn’t recognize me in the slightest.

Alive. Just Alive would do.

I stood from the bar and tapped the newest of Ishgards expatriots on the shoulder in thanks. Though I doubt he knew the weight his words had had on me. He barely looked over his shoulder to me as I departed without so much as a word. A rudeness, but one I felt was needed when my own words could not be trusted to hide my truths in such a state or joy and fear.

I had much to consider and plan, in the relative safety of my inn room, but found no such purchase as I laid my head down. The wine and memories overtaking me into a realm of sleep that for once, seemed not so dark.

#ffxiv #ff14 #Danica Voss #writing #Estinien #Estinien Wyrmsblood #Orlaux Dzemael

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magma-mouse · 6 years ago

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FILL IN:

i like to be called: Sarah, Muntato

my favourite colour is: Purple!!!

gender: Female

one thing you should know about me: I work a lot and als oreally like to cosplay and...well draw and stuff. I am also dyslexic and have random capitalization tendencies, Im sorry about that.

thing you should know about my muse(s): Kiwi is often very busy when she at the base but loves when people come to distract her a little so she cannot stress about work. She doesn't seem to care when people make fun of her, she mostly ignores it, but the second someone makes fun of one of her friends she will turn into 5′1″ of raging bull at them Fishel likes to deny the fact he thinks Kiwi is cute and also will deny his friendship to her to other Aqua grunts, both cause he's embarrassed and also cause hes afraid they will mess with her. Danica is very attuned to her surroundings despite being blind. She is also not as frail as she looks. She has flipped coworkers over her shoulder before for trying to sneak up on her.

first language: English

second language:I don't really have one. Really want to learn though

HIGHLIGHT:

age range: 27!

am i okay with nsfw?:Yep Yepper doodles. I do any smut things on Kiwis sperate nsfw sideblog though

oc friendly?: Of corse! She is OC XD

rp blog: Yes I am an RP blog, but I will post some OOC on whats going on..also if anything just makes e really happy you might see it!

TAGGED BY: Stole from @aether-florie TAGGING: EVERYONE

#Kiwi mouse ooc #Sarah the muntato

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cleighwrites · 6 years ago

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Sucker Love

SPN Fanfic

Characters - Sociopath!Sam x serial killer!Dean

Summary - Sam and Dean were raised drifting from town to town, left to their own devices regularly by their father who left them to hunt and kill monsters. Little did he know that he was raising two monsters himself. In his own way, Sam is in love with his brother, who has his own ways of dealing with their life. John starts to act suspicious of Sam, but Sam isn’t about to let anything come between his brother and him, not even their own, worthless, father.

Word Count - 1,397

A/N - Beta’d by the amazeballz @impala-dreamer. This part fills my Dark Fic square on my @spnkinkbingo card.

Warnings - sociopathic tendencies, incestual feelings, murders, audio-voyeurism, pseudo underage (Sam is 16, no sex...yet)

~Sucker love is using someone for sex until you get bored of them~

“Sucker love a box I choose

No other box I choose to use

Another love I would abuse

No circumstances could excuse” - Placebo, Every You Every Me

“Mmm, yes, Dean. Yes!” the slut screamed from the other side of the door.

Dean had kicked Sam out about forty-five minutes ago so he could ride their current town's bicycle. Sam had brought his science book outside with him to work on his homework, but he didn't make it past their motel room's window before he stopped and sat down. As jealous as he was of all the girls Dean fucked, he could never pass up an opportunity to hear the moans and grunts of his big brother as he came inside of them. Sam was a romantic like that.

Dean was his first kiss, for educational purposes only, of course. Dean was the first one, other than himself, to jerk him off. As far as Sam was concerned, Dean really was the only one. The only one that mattered anyway.

Their father had started to get suspicious of their time spent alone together. Maybe he had caught Sam staring one too many times as Dean would be getting dressed after a shower, or maybe he had woken up to Sam wrapped around Dean as they slept. None of that bothered Sam, but the way their dad would fight with him was becoming an issue.

Dean, ever the obedient little soldier-boy, would do whatever it took to appease the man, but would try to keep them from fighting. Sam was never quite able to put anything before his brother, which had grown to include their predominantly absentee father.

“Sam's old enough to stay on his own now; you should be coming with me. Help me on this hunt.” John had been looking directly at Sam the entire time he was talking to Dean.

“Dad, he's still in school, people will notice if he's living by himself in a motel room,” Dean had argued.

John had only glanced at Dean before fixing his gaze back on Sam. Sam gave as good as he got, his glare never wavering, nor the smirk that accompanied it.

“It's just a salt and burn, you don't need me anyways,” Dean had added in an attempt to break the mounting tension in the room.

John couldn't argue that, so he placed his hand on Dean's shoulder and looked him straight in the eye as he delivered his warning, “Watch out for Sammy.” Then he was gone.

That had been two days ago. Dean had been a little more distant than usual with Sam after their dad left this time. He slept in the other bed, closed the door to a crack when he showered, and didn't hack the TV to pick up porn their first night alone like he typically did. Their dad had put a rift between them; Sam had to fix it before it was too late and he lost Dean for good.

The sound of choking called Sam's attention back into the room and his dick stood at attention as he strained to hear the struggle he knew was going on. The scrape of nails on the cheap motel sheets, the soft drumming of fists on hard, toned skin, the final grunt of Dean's orgasm, and finally, the limp thump of a lifeless arm on the mattress.

Knowing it was safe for him to reenter the room, Sam folded his papers and pencil into his book and stood. Before he could open the door he heard the water running, then the unmistakable sound of the Impala down the street.

Sam burst into the hotel room, holding back his scream, “Dean!”

“Sammy, what the-” he stopped himself, listening.

“Dad,” Sam hissed, turning to the bed to find the bicycle laying haphazardly across the mattress, arms splayed out, legs still spread open. “Dammit, Dean.”

Dean's face went chalk-white as he stared at Sam, eyes as wide as saucers. “Fuck, Sammy.” He ran his fingers through his hair and looked at the girl's body. “Fuck!”

The Impala pulled into the parking lot and Sam sprung into action. He ran to the bed, picking the slut's clothes up as he went, throwing them on top of the girl before pulling the discarded comforter over her and turning her head on the pillow; she could be sleeping.

Dean's eyes looked like his heart was going to break, just like his voice did, “Sammy.”

There wasn't time for anything else as the motel room door swung open and their father stepped in. Dean stood ramrod straight, wide eyes glued to his commander. Sam had taken a seat in one of the chairs at the table and opened his book back up to where his homework was still waiting to be finished.

John's eyes scanned the room and landed on the girl tucked into his own bed. “You boys have a party while I was out?” He leveled his gaze on Dean.

Dean tried for a guilty grin, but failed miserably. “I met her down playing pool last night.” Truth, “We didn't get a lot of sleep; I didn't have the heart to wake her up.” Lie.

“Yeah, well, you should know better than to do that sort of shit with Sammy around.” John took a step toward the bed and Dean shot a panicked look to Sam.

“I'm sixteen, not twelve. It's not like I've never seen boobs before,” Sam sneered, succeeding in drawing their father’s attention away from the fresh corpse.

“That's not the point.” John's voice was hard, and his eyes dangerous when they turned on Sam.

“Dad,” Dean interjected, as always trying to take the brunt away from Sam, which unfortunately, was becoming a regular occurrence.

“What are you even doing here, need a shower before you hit the bar?” Sam was seething, matching John's tone.

“You watch your mouth, son,” John yelled. He jerked as if he'd done something wrong, then turned to look at the girl.

Sam winced, knowing that anyone would have stirred at their outbursts, drunken slut or not. The girl remained unmoving. Dean took a step forward when John reached out to put his hand on the girl's shoulder.

He barely laid his hand on her when he knew that she was gone and jerked it back. He looked to Sam and then launched himself at Dean. “How could you do this?” Sam heard the crunch of bone as John's fist made contact with Dean's face.

“Dad!” Sam yelled from the other side of the room.

“You fucking killed her! Sammy's here!” Punch after punch landed on Dean's bloody swollen face as John pummeled him.

Dean wasn't even trying to fight back, and Sam couldn't take anymore. He dug through his father's army duffel and pulled out his own handgun. It had been his birthday gift that year, but John didn't trust him to keep it himself. The metal was cold in his hand, and the white marble handle shone in the little sunlight that was streaming in through the tacky motel curtain. With practiced hands he checked the cartridge, cocked the barrel, and took aim.

“Stop!” His voice was steady, and he had thankfully not cracked when he said it; his voice still in the process of maturing.

John stopped mid-swing, turning his head to see the gun aimed at him, and let go of Dean. Sam spared a quick glance as he watched his brother slump to the ground, spitting blood from his busted-open lips.

John turned slowly with his palms up, facing Sam. “Now, Sammy.”

“Don't placate me!” Sam's voice was full of rage, but his hands were steady and his aim was true.

“Just think about what your doing, son.”

Dean groaned from his place on the floor as he tried to crawl away. Sam had never seen his big brother afraid of anything in his life. That alone was enough to set Sam's resolve.

“We're in a small room in a crowded motel. Even if you did shoot me, where could you go? What would you do?”

“Sa-my” Dean coughed, his eyes were pleading, probably for him to not shoot.

Sam kept his eyes on his father and the gun aimed while he reached over and grabbed the pillow out from under the slut's head. He doubled it over and held it in front of the gun. “We're gonna salt and burn your bones.”

Then, just as John lurched forward, Sam squeezed the trigger, just like his late father had taught him.

Part 2

Please reblog if you liked it! Feel free to ASK for anything else you may like to read or if you would like to be added to my tag list!

All the tags:

@amanda-teaches @waywardbaby @impala-dreamer @ericaprice2008 @whimsicalrobots @evansrogerskitten @chloeaacole @mcchubbin @danica-queen-of-hell @holyfuckloueh @wonderfulwinchestersmut @andkatiethings @dean-winchesters-bacon @mogaruke @super-fan-of-all-things @speakinvain @superlightalternateuniverse88 @kittenofdoomage @myxtina @babypink224221 @just-another-busy-fangirl @81mysteriouslyme @brewsthespirit-blog @curly-haired-disaster @closetspngirl @death-unbecomes-you @mrswhozeewhatsis @phanslittleplayroom

#spnkinkbingo #dark!wincest #spn fanfic #weecest #sociopath!sam #serial killer!dean #murder husbands #jelly fish fic #this will be a short series #spnfanficpond #cleighwrites

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ivars-snowflake · 6 years ago

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Wild - III

Plot: The story follows Morana, a meditarranean girl brought to Kattegat by Bjorn, right before the war. She’s not just any girl though, she’s a princess with a secret she’s desperate to keep unrevealed, and with a great need for a fresh start and a place to call home. She wants it to be Kattegat, but will it be?

Follow her, and those around her, into a series of heartbreaks.

Pairing: None really, but Ivar and Morana are getting closer

Word count: 1880

You can read Part I here, and Part II here.

She felt a pair of eyes boring into the back of her head, as she opened her eyes. Assuming it was the thrall, she didn't pay it any attention. The sun was high up, and she figured it was close to midday.

“I hope you managed to get some rest, princess Morana, for there are things we should discuss.”

She felt a sudden rush of heat hit her face at the sound of his voice. No matter how annoying she found him to be, she was still impressed by the fact that he, being the youngest of four brothers, somehow managed to make himself a king. She needed to find her place in the world, and she wanted her place to be here. Going back home was not an option, and it was not something she would wish for anyway. She was not wanted back there. So, she needed him to like her. But still, he was not a very good company. Not for her. They were to similar, and that might cost her, if she doesn't learn to control herself.

She turned to face him, realizing how close he sat. He was on the floor, right next to her bed. It was just then that she noticed the crutches leaned on the wall next to him. Right, they always talked of him as the cripple. She once asked a slave what the word meant, but the answer confused her, for she never met a person with his condition. Now she realized what the thrall meant by his legs not working. Somehow, she managed to forget that piece of information earlier, not giving it much importance. She shook it off, and focused her eyes on him.

“About?”

His eyes were studying her gentle frame, finally finding their rest on her eyes. The night before, he was convinced her eyes were gray, the color of the clouds that come bearing storms. But now they were green, like the green waters of the lake, or the grass in early spring. Their glances were stuck at each other.

“I want to know where you're from. You're different somehow, and I intend to know how.”

A silent sigh escaped her, a relief. He was intrigued, not furious. Maybe she did play her cards just right, and maybe for once, her mouth and her attitude failed to cause her doom. He was unpredictable, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing in general, but it did show as a good thing at this moment.

“I told you, your brother Bjorn brought me here. I was given to him by my father.” She answered, anger evident in her tone.

“You have a lot to resent to your father, but he's still your father. And I do not want to talk about your family issues. So, you're from Mediterranean?”

She was slightly taken aback by his words, she didn't quite expect this from a man who was at war with his own brothers, but for once, she decided not to comment. And he was rude, but she still managed to control her tongue.

“Yes, I am.”

“And you are no Christian?”

He was evidently interested in gods and religious things, as was she.

“No, I am not. I think they are ridiculous, in fact. Virgins giving birth and all. I think that my gods and your gods are very alike, king Ivar.”

He stared at her, not sure whether this was a good thing or some sort of blasphemy. But he was eager to know more of her Gods, as this woman seemed to possess some kind of magic, for she had him tied to her words.

“Okay, tell me about your gods then, princess Morana.”

She smiled, pleased by his curiosity.

“Well, what do you want to know, my king?”

“I know nothing, so anything’s good.”

“Khm…” She paused, thinking where to start, and then continued. “Then I’ll start with a God that you remind me of, king Ivar. His name is Perun. Perun is the god of thunder and lightning, fire and drought… He rules over our world, the world of the living, from his fortress in the clouds, on top of the World Tree.”

”He seems like a good god, why would he remind you of me?” Ivar asked, leaning closer, a smirk on his face. “It seems you’re a little misled by who I’m supposed to be…”

Morana chuckled, her shoulders shaking slightly. She shook her head in disagreement, thinking back to all the things she heard about him, and then she continued. “I don’t think I am. You see, king Ivar, Perun is also the god of war and weaponry. He is the one that warriors call upon. The warrior god. Veles is his enemy - the god of livestock, shepherds and farmers. Just like your brother Ubbe is your enemy right now.” She paused, her eyes wandering at his, cautiously scrutinizing him and his reactions, looking for any sign of disapproval. She did not want to insult or anger him. He smiled weakly, nodding for her to continue. “The fight between Perun and Veles lasts since forever, they keep trying to outsmart each other, Perun usually wins, sending Veles back to the underground, but Veles always comes back, wanting to outdare Perun.” She paused and smiled, noticing how carefully he listened to her.

“Go on...” He encouraged her.

“Perun has a wife, his wife is Sunce, The Sun. The Sun has a mother and little sister, Zora (Dawn) and Danica (The North Star). Zora is The Sun’s mother, she visits our world in the early mornings, at dawn, and gives birth to her daughter, The Sun, blessing the world of the living with its light. Danica is The Sun’s younger sister, she is in fact the brightest star on the night’s sky. Those were the names of my sisters too…both very bubbly and happy…”

He listened cautiously, admiring the way she spoke of her gods. There was passion and commitment in her soft voice, making him think of Floki and his tales. She saw him smile at her.

“Are you named after a goddess too?”

Her eyes locked to the floor, avoiding his gaze. Her expression changed, and she nodded.

“Tell me…” He whispered, lifting her chin up with his hand. She loved and worshiped the goddess she was named after, but the people around her never did. They feared her.

“I was named after Morana, the Sun’s daughter. The goddess of winter and death,” She paused, taking a deep breath, “I came to life by causing death. My mother died giving birth to me, and I…my people fear Morana, so everyone feared me. My father sent me to live with an old lady Mara in the woods. She became my mother and my father. Taught me everything I know of the gods and the world. When she died, I was all alone. Until they came for me and gave me to your brother.”

He could see how hard she tried to keep her tears from falling, and he put his hand on the piece of her skin that shyly escaped the furs in an attempt to comfort her. He knew now what it was that kept drawing him to her - they were both the children that should have died. The rejected ones, the belittled ones, feared or mocked. Those who were supposed to die, but gods decided in their favor, they made them strong, and the same gods now brought them together. It had to mean something. She blinked the tears away, and fixed her eyes on him, smiling.

“Anything else you wanna know?”

“Well, yes. I want to know more about Morana, she does seem like an interesting goddess. But right now, you should get dressed and go eat something.”

He turned to the wall, reaching for his crutches, and holding onto her bed to get up.

“What's your story, king Ivar the Boneless? Why do you fight your brothers?”

“I didn't fight my brothers. I fought the murderer of my mother. My brothers chose to fight by her side.”

She grew silent, thinking back of her acquired knowledge of this entire situation. Lagertha was the mother of Bjorn, but Ivar, Hvitserk, and Ubbe – the brother that sided with Lagertha, they were the sons of Queen Aslaug, the second wife of Ragnar Lothbrok. The name Sigurd was also often mentioned, but she did not know who Sigurd was. It was perfectly understandable to her that Bjorn would hold the side of his mother in this war, but Ubbe was a mystery. Why would he choose the woman who killed his mother, rather than his own two brothers?

“I am sorry. For the death of your mother. I heard it was Lagertha who killed her.”

He nodded, his eyes instantly filling with rage. She saw a spark lightning up, as he spoke of her.

“She escaped. But I will catch her, I will. And I will kill her. Slowly and painfully. I will make it a show, for everyone to watch.”

Morana was studying his face as he spoke, it was dark and ominous, no wonder everyone feared him. And yet again, he reminded her of Perun, the fierce and fearless one, riding in his chariot, weaving his mighty axe.

He was fascinating, probably the most fascinating man she ever met, of his brothers, most definitely the most interesting and intense one. Soon, she caught herself aiming high, falling for the very king of Kattegat.

It soon became a little ritual of theirs, these early morning talks. She complained the first few days, a little uncomfortable with Ivar seeing her in her nightgown, hair disheveled and eyes still cloudy, but as soon she became comfortable enough around him, she just didn’t care.

And he thought she was beautiful. She was always beautiful, with her lips painted red, and her braided hair carefully curled up into a bun on top of her head, flowers in her hair, those eyes being the color of fresh green grass. But in the early morning light, when she would first blink, her eyes still adjusting to light, they were golden. Her wavy hair would fall down her back, shimmering in shades of chestnut and orange as the rays of light would fall on it. Her bones would crackle as she stretched, a smile on her face at the sight of him sitting next to her bed. The golden glow of her eyes would fade then, when she would fix her gaze on him, smiling sleepily and wishing him a good morning in her native language.

But the closer she got to him, the further he’d escape. And soon she felt the distance growing between them, his walls build up high, and though Morana tried to break through, her thin patience not exactly helping her intention of knowing and understanding his troubled personality, anger and intimacy issues evident every time she would try to get near in a moment he would find unfitting. But he would still come back, and she would still welcome him. What he didn’t count on was that she, though still trying to get through, would also search comfort and tenderness somewhere else. He didn’t count on a possibility of actually losing her, while he was pushing her away.

Taglist: @cris101071 @naaladareia

#wild #vikings fanfiction #ivar fanfiction #hvitserk fanfiction #ivar x oc #hvitserk x oc #ivar ragnarsson #ivars heathen army #hvitserk ragnarsson

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arrow1366 · 7 years ago

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Fragments-ch.1

There was nothing but dark. Then light.

A tidal wave washed over jolting me awake as my eyes burned, coughing as water dribbled down my face and body. Still blind- too bright to see- I tried to move but my burning arms stopped me when I realized they were above my head and bound.

Where am I? Voices swirled around me making my head and stomach spin as they seemingly spoke in circles and in languages I don’t know.

What are they saying?

My head was jerked back roughly, a tight grip on my hair yanking it back, fingers- smooth and plastic like- forced my eyelids wide as a burning liquid, two drops in each eye, splashed against my eyes burning them as vague shapes began to take form.

Screaming out I thrashed against my binds as the voices got clearer and the shapes got clearer.

“You idiot…!” One voice spoke up, a man’s?

“He’s…ready…” a woman’s voice spoke.

“Two hundred years…early…”

“…Cthulhu…”

They argued back and forth as I let my head fall forward, the room became clear. Crystal. Black curls shrowded my vision as I rose my head a fraction to see that was suspended by the arms in a sterile white room with two people in pearl lab coats behind me. Behind them stood a row of soldiers wearing-strange jet black armor aiming their strange guns at me, their blank red eyes trained on me and me only. Am I… a prisoner?

“Where…am I?” I rasped, my voice cracked and deep as I flexed my fingers above.

Jumping at my voice, the man turned to me, his wide blue eyes on me. These…people… look strange. Like a genetic experiment. The two scientists having features of multiple different races blended into one, but it didn’t look forced. Like I was looking at new humans.

“Why is he aware? He should be confused still!” The man hissed as the woman kept her brown eyes on me, her red hair spilling in long loose curls behind her.

She was in control here. That much was obvious.

“Doesn’t matter why he’s aware, but it’s good that he is.” She said seemingly dismissing him as she took a step for me making my body immediately snap back only to be stop by another soldier behind me while the others cocked their strange weapons. “Relax,” she said calmly-coldly- to everyone before looking at me.

“Where.Am.I?” I asked again, stronger this time.

“Do you know who you are?” She asked softly.

A pulse ran up the side of my head bringing with it a sharp pain like a knife digging into bone. But a single name rang out among the pain.

“D-D-Darius…my name is Darius.” I stumbled out as she nodded, opened her palm releasing a hologram of what looked like a medical report.

“Good Darius-”

“This is not good!” The man yelled. “This is breaking policy Danica! This is-”

That name. Another pulse of pain spread through my head as broken images- half memories formed in my head.

Overtaking me, I was half there again. Where ever it was. Burning, everything is burning. Feet bloody under me, someone is…chasing me. No. Us. But who is it? Irrelevant. They’re yelling, screaming for us to stop.

A pierced ripped through my shoulder making me scream, fall. The…other collapses. She appears.

Screams. Then nothing.

“Danica…I know…that name…” I whispered.

Turning up to me, she smirked then stepped away as the man came up to me then dramatically spun to her, extending his arm out to me. “See? He remembers you! What happens if-”

“If you give him everything he needs to remember? He’ll probably kill all of us.” She hissed shutting him up. “So shut up…Kaleb.”

Another pain, another memory.

“You’re gonna have to stop squirming…” He hissed as he jabbed needles into my ribs, drilling as they went as I screamed and thrashed against my binds across my chest.

“St-op!!” I begged as he smiled down at me then looked up at something I couldn’t see.

“Up the power, he’s still conscious!”

The memory faded, but the rage bloomed in my chest. Like a sun burning inside, it melted the lingering pain away as I flexed my fingers again, stiffening the bonds. Freezing them. Who am I? I have no idea. But I know him. And I know what he did to me.

Gagging, Kaleb stumbled then coughed. “Why would you-”

Lunging forward, wrappping my legs around his throat quickly, squeezing stealing the words away as the soldiers all around me aimed directly on my chest with blue lasers.

“Where am I?” I asked as she smiled at me.

“You think his life matters to me? You are gravely mistaken Darius.” She hissed as she backed up. “Oh, and welcome back.” She said the wall behind her opened up and left out along with two soldiers.

Gagging under me, Kaleb tried moving as the bonds became brittle.

“P-p-please…” he struggled out.

“Up the power…he’s still conscious…” I said back slowly before snapping his neck.

Breaking my bonds as the bullets rocketed for me, I narrowly missed them as two blades-seemingly made of clear crystal ejected from my arms as I sprung forward. Impaling one soldier in the chest before flipping back clear across the room to another,landing on their shoulders slamming them down before rocketing to the side stabbing the two soldiers in one clean shot through the chest before slamming them into the white walls. A bullet, then three hit my shoulder and chest knocking me nearly off balance I looked over at the three remaining soldiers as they moved into a formation to take me out.

Why do I know that?

“Where am I?” I asked again.

“Fire!” A woman soldier screamed as they did.

Disposing of three wasn’t hard. A dodge and a clean slice across all three of their exposed throats made it easy. It was the aftermath that was hard. How do I know how to do this? And standing among the bodies, at the blood-so red- staining the white around I was horrified. This shouldn’t be natural. For no person. Watching as the weird crystal retract back into my arms, I breathed and looked at one of the soldiers boots and my bare feet. Actually, looking down I was completely nude.

Stealing some of the weird armor-it fit like a second skin- I bolted out of the room and down a non lit hall where in the distance outside’s light welcomed me. Outside there will be answers.

Slamming my entire body weight into the door, the same strange invisible doors, I smashed through and landed on a cracked and graffitied concrete ground. This is familiar. Safe. The roar of cars filled me with a brief sense of solace as I picked myself up and sprinted down the alley.

Then stopped and looked up in horror.

The world was changed. Strange flying cars roared above guided by formless blue light through a intricate road like hive avoiding the seemingly endless floating neon signs. Strange languages I didn’t know, buildings as tall as the sky as they glowed bright neon. Looking out, people by the thousands crowded the streets, all of them the same shades of browns, strange glowing and steam punk like clothing. Kids staring down at their palm screens, adults leaning on the less than sterling buildings, drinking out of weird twisted glass like bottles-bright pink liquids or eating actual cubes colored differently.

My head pulsed with pain again, gripping it my thoughts splintered as I tried to make sense of what I was seeing.

A passing person, light brown like caramel, slammed into nearly knocking me over; he flashed his bright-too bright- green eyes at me and stuck up three of his fingers.

“Ka'la et sabtium!” He yelled before looking ahead, stuffing his robotic hands in his coat.

My fist jerked, and when I grabbed it to slow whatever the jerk was, it was glowing bright orange almost while heating my skin and the air around it.

What am I?

Taking a step ahead, a loud whirring sound filled the enclosed city, as a bright pink-floating motorcycle- with a person riding it came speeding for me. My hands heating to boiling, the bike weaved around the yelling pedistrans before whirring to a hault beside me.

The riders helmet pixilated itself back until a woman, as brown as I was, with long black straight hair stared at me, her grey eyes locked on mine.

“Get on.” She said with so much authority I almost followed.

“Where am I?” I asked nearly yelling.

Snapping her eyes past me, she whipped out a similar looking gun and fired past me. Looking back, the surviving soldier I forgot to kill head exploded in a cluster painting the walls behind him from the woman’s blue teil bullet before collapsing. Jerking twice before going still.

Turning to her, she collapsed her gun and stared at me, raising one of her sharp eyebrows. “You’re gonna be dead if you don’t jump on. Now.”

Looking around at my new world, still having no idea where I was or who exactly I am, I nodded and walked over. Jumping on the back of her bike she handed me a thin silver button.

“Put it behind you ear and press on it. And hold on. It’s gonna be a rough ride.” She said sounding excited as I did as she told and watched as a helmet pixelated around my head.

Revving up her bike, I grabbed on tight as we sped away through the crowd of people and into a world I didn’t know anymore.

#short story #series #scifi #fantasy #original #action #future #cthulhu

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misgel · 8 years ago

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Whispers of the Wind

A one-shot requested by ironbar36. I hope you enjoy!

The sanctuary was filled with life. Lush trees crowded the landscape, reaching far into the air.

Thick foliage covered the ground—flowers, bushes, and fungus intermingled to where it was almost impossible to find a trail. Walls of stone surrounded the sanctuary, reaching up to meet the broken roof above. Beams of sunlight shone through, illuminating the forest. It was as if the earth had swallowed it whole—or was protecting it from the corruption of the outside world.

Above the sanctuary was a single tree, made of smooth ivory bark and its crimson leaves filled the branches whole. At the base of the tree was a single man, dressed in silken robes of violet. Before him lay an open book, but he was not reading it. His eyes were closed and his palms were pressed together in a prayer. His lips were pressed to his fingers as he murmured rapidly under his breath.

“Come to me, Kynareth, for without you, I might not know the mysteries of the world, and so blind and in terror, I might consume and profane the abundance of your beautiful treasures,” the man whispered, his words carried by the wind that circled the tree. He repeated the verse. And again. And again and again and again.

“Come to me, Kynareth…”

***

Curse it! Prealia didn’t expect the Spriggans to appear. She should have. The creatures lurked in forest sanctuaries such as this—sacred groves where nature was untouched by man. That was until Prealia buried Nettlebane’s blade into the Eldergleam tree.

The monsters were easily taller than the small woman. They were made of the same ivory bark of the great tree, held together by a magical energy that no mortal could comprehend. The Spriggans’ hands ended in claws, which one didn’t hesitate to swipe at the warrior.

Prealia barely dodged in time, ducking away and returning the favor with a slash of her sword. The tree-like creature hissed as the blade caught its chest, splitting the wood in two. It retreated back into the giant roots that surrounded the clearing.

The woman had no time to breathe, as the other Spriggan was approaching, palms facing the warrior. It hissed and the magical aura surrounding it flared. Without warning, dozens and dozens of hornets flew from its arms in a synchronized hum, rushing towards Prealia. The woman recoiled the sight of the solid mass, only for her back to press up against the cold stone of the sanctuary’s wall. There was nowhere to go. And no sword or shield could save her. But another power could.

Prealia closed her eyes and let out a sigh. She reached towards a hidden instinct in the depths of her mind. An ancient, foreign instinct, but so familiar at the same time. Then the voices of the dragons filled her soul. Their words slipped over her tongue, in a language she did not know.

“Liz! Slen!”

The Shout turned the Dragonborn’s breath into ice, freezing the insects solid. The swarm that had rushed towards her now fell onto the ground like rain. The Spriggan screamed in rage and its magic flared again. Prealia reacted quickly.

She lifted her sword above her head with two hands, the blade hovering by the back of her neck. Although she was sure the weapon wasn’t forged for this purpose, she knew she had to improvise. The warrior took a step forward and with a mighty yell, swung the sword forward. She let go at the last moment, sending the blade twirling through the air. Right into the Spriggan’s heart.

The monster screamed in an inhuman pitch, nearly deafening Prealia’s sensitive hearing. Magical flames engulfed the wood that made the Spriggan’s body—and then it vanished. Only a pile of ashes remained.

Prealia gave a sigh of relief. It was over. For some reason, this task didn’t seem too difficult when Danica gave her instructions. Use Nettlebane, a dagger no longer than Prealia’s forearm, to take a sample of the Eldergleam’s sap and take the sample back to Whiterun.

The giant tree towered above the Imperial, the top branches touching the ceiling of the sanctuary above. It was a tree like Prealia never seen before—its trunk was a deep ivory and its leaves were a pale crimson. It seemed to radiate with power not even the Dragonborn knew, an ancient magic that seemed to fill the entire cavern. No wonder many believed this to be the oldest tree in Skyrim, perhaps all of Tamriel.

If it was true, it explained why the Spriggans were so angry. Even the roots seemed to protect the Eldergleam, twisting around the trunk like a wall and buried themselves into the earth, holding the great tree in place. Only Nettlebane could cut through the stone-like bark.

The warrior sheathed the dagger and tied the flask of sap to her side. She strode over to collect her sword, but then something caught the corner of her eye. A flap of leather laying across the green ground, left undisturbed. A book.

Perplexed, the Dragonborn strode over and picked it up, flipped randomly through until she came across a particular line. She narrowed her eyes.

“Come to me, Kynareth…”

***

The woman kept her steps quiet as she crouched low, using the sanctuary’s foliage as her cover. She was so close to the entrance (or exit, in her case). She could finally see the outside world…

“Xalita!” a harsh voice came.

The woman flinched and straightened, knowing she was caught. She turned around to face a man in robes. Her father.

“Where are you going, Xalita?” the mage asked, his tone inscrutable. His expression likewise. Or maybe that horrid giant beard just hid it. The woman huffed, not noticing the trees around her stirred when she did so.

“I want to see the outside,” she said plainly, the same way she said it a thousand times before. Her father’s reply was the same as always.

“It is not safe for you out there. You are not like them.”

Xalita pouted. The trees stirred more. Even her robes rustled. Made of the same silk of her father’s, but they were a light purple instead of the deep blue he wore. She wore gauntlets and shoulder pads of a darker shade. Subtle patterns swirling like the wind stretched across the robes, with an emblem of a golden star resting on her stomach. A dark hood covered her face, similar to her father’s. It was habit by now to wear it, but she didn’t understand why. It was not like someone was going to see her face. The woman wore no shoes, nor did her father, but they were not necessary. Not with the soft soil and grass wherever they walked.

“How will I know unless I meet them?” she responded. It was the same argument. The same one every time.

Her father frowned. That same frown he used for everything. “Because you were not born the way they were.”

Yes, because mortal fathers did not summon their wives. And mortal mothers did not grow giant trees because they were bored. Xalita looked up at Eldergleam, which loomed over their little sanctuary. Father said Eldergleam and her mother were one and the same. Was Mother watching them now?

Her mother, Kynareth.

***

“Well? Do you have it?” Danica Pure-Spring questioned the moment Prealia stepped into the Temple of Kynareth.

Prealia sighed. She knew she couldn’t blame the young priestess for being eager. They had to act quickly. Gildergreen was dying.

Outside the Temple, in the center of Whiterun, was a tree that seemed a mirror version of the massive Eldergleam the Dragonborn had discovered. After all, Gildergreen was merely a piece of its parent, Eldergleam. Only, the daughter tree was much smaller. And while Eldergleam radiated with life, Gildergreen looked dead.

Its bark was dark and its branches were bare, with a long, black scar along its trunk. Lightning sent down by the gods had struck the sacred tree, and now it was dying. Prealia couldn’t blame Danica for wanting to save it.

The Temple of Kynareth generally seemed bare, with its large sanctuary only frequented by a handful of sick citizens and priests and priestesses. But now it was nearly empty, only a couple of priests lingering and only a sole patient—an old, sick farmer that filled the air with his coughing. Everyone else had left, or no one came.

People believed that Gildergreen’s state was a sign from Kynareth. That the goddess had abandoned them, and there was no hope in Whiterun. Even travelers seemed to stay away from the city walls.

The Eldergleam Sap was the only cure for Gildergreen, and for Whiterun. Prealia held out the flask, which was heavy from her bounty. Danica’s eyes shined and she practically snatched it from the warrior’s hand.

“Oh, this is perfect! Thank you!” the young priestess exclaimed.

“Only took a couple Spriggans to get it,” Prealia muttered under her breath.

“I beg your pardon?”

The traveler let it go, instead directing the conversation elsewhere. She pulled out another object from her knapsack. The leather-bound book from the sanctuary.

“I found this by the Eldergleam Tree. It’s filled with verses dedicated to Kynareth,” Prealia explained. She glanced at the script at the front of the book. The author’s name. “Does the name Askeladden sound familiar?”

Danica didn’t seem too impressed by the discovery, but tilted her head in thought. “Pilgrims come from all over Tamriel search for Eldergleam in order to give tribute to the goddess Kynareth,” she explained. “It’s most likely just another offering.”

Danica’s guess made sense, but Prealia’s stomach still twisted. Her instincts tingled, like when the Spriggans appeared. But why?

“Come,” the priestess suddenly announced. “We must offer the Sap to the Shrine.”

The Dragonborn had to double take. “I beg your pardon?”

The priestess was already moving away, but took a moment to turn to her guest. “Yes. What is wrong?”

Prealia couldn’t keep the uncertainty from her voice. “I thought… we would use the Sap on Gildergreen? You said yourself it was once part of Eldergleam.” The woman felt awkward as Danica stared at her for a full moment with a quizzical look, as if she didn’t understand. Suddenly the young priestess blinked, as if broken from a spell.

“Oh,” she realized. “Yes, well, we must make the offering first. If she is pleased, then Gildergreen will be restored.”

“Who? Kynareth?”

Another strange look. “No. Lady Xalita, of course.”

***

Eldergleam was growing. Kynareth was watching. Father was sick. Xalita was bored.

Most days at least she had her father. He would teach her spells or he would tell her stories, philosophy, and education. Although, those stories would always be the same ones, Xalita never understood her father’s philosophy, and she saw no point in learning of the outside world, if she could not go. But at least it was something to do.

But now all Father did was lay in his makeshift cot. Each day, he spoke less and less, and coughed more and more. Now Xalita spent her time preparing his meals, upkeeping their little camp, and reading alone, sometimes reading to him.

One day, the old mage stopped moving at all.

Xalita didn’t cry when she realized her father, Askeladden, was dead. She ached.

Every part of her body hurt, a sensation she never had before, to the point she could barely move her limbs. All her energy was sapped from her, making her movements even harder. At times, the girl couldn’t even open her eyes. The pain spread to her throat, making it raw and sore, worsening every time she swallowed. Even her stomach ached, twisting and knotting with every movement. Strangest of all, there was a burning sensation behind the woman’s eyes, but she did not know why. Why did she hurt so much?

It was like Xalita’s father had passed his illness onto her. She didn’t even remember burying the body by Eldergleam. She only remembered placing his treasured journal, from his days as an apprentice to a priest of Kynareth, upon his grave that intertwined with the roots of Eldergleam.

From then on, Xalita spent more time sitting by his grave more than anything else. She thought the pain would disappear in time, but it only lingered. Xalita went days without food or water, or even sleep. She would just stare at Askeladden’s book mindlessly, until she felt another discomfort. A hollow tightness in her chest, and like everything else, it did not go away. And Xalita did not know why.

“You are lonely,” a voice spoke. “That is why you are in pain.”

Xalita flinched and broke her vigil over her father’s grave. She looked around, trying to locate the source. There was no one in sanctuary. Only the wind rustling Eldergleam’s leaves could be heard. But that was impossible! She heard the voice clearly, as if someone was standing right next to her. Was she going mad now, too?

“No, you are not,” the voice assured. Another flinch.

“You can hear my thoughts?” Xalita said aloud, but her lonely—that was the word—voice drifted over empty air.

“Yes. I have been watching over you for some time now.”

“Are you Kynareth?”

Had her mother finally contacted her? No, that couldn’t be. The voice was harsh, deep. Father said Mother’s voice was soft and comforting.

“No,” the voice confirmed. “I am Malacath.”

“You are a Deadra,” Xalita realized. Her father told her about them—evil entities that manipulated the mortal world, solely for their own amusement.

“And you are an Aedra, yet we speak.”

She was a goddess? She didn’t feel like one.

“That is because your father feared your power,” Malacath replied, once again replying to her thoughts like she had spoken them. “He hid you away—suppressed your talents, solely to prevent you from reaching your true potential.”

“No, the humans fear my power,” Xalita corrected.

“And who said that?”

Xalita was silent. Her father said that.

“Precisely. You can waste the rest of eternity in this little hole—or you can show the mortals your true power… and see the world for what it truly is.”

For the first time since her father’s death, Xalita’s heart quickened in excitement. She could see the outside world? She could show the humans what she really was?

“How so?” the woman asked.

“There is place known as Dragonsreach to the west, ruled by mighty warriors,” Malacath explained. “But they are arrogant. They believe they are untouched by their divine rulers. They must be reminded of their proper place, and they are ruled by gods.”

“Why?”

Suddenly a noise filled the air. A noise that sounded like rocks grating against each other. Harsh. Cold. It took Xalita several moments to realize Malacath was laughing.

“Why not?”

***

Prealia’s confusion grew when Danica lead them further into the Temple, deeper underground. Kynareth was the deity of the heavens and the wind. Her Temples were designed to reflect that—the Temple’s roof was open with wide windows to allow bright sunshine to enter and even a breeze.

Down here, the air was still. Prealia smelled dust and the chill of the stone walls biting at her skin. No longer did she feel she was in a place of worship. She was in a prison.

The pair of women went down a flight of stairs into a tunnel, which opened to a wide room. Glancing up at the ceiling, Prealia noticed the root system of Gildergreen, intertwined with the earth itself, unmoving. Like bars of a cell.

In the center of the earthen room was a shrine. It looked precisely like the shrine of Kynareth upstairs—smooth metal in the shape of a flower bud, with a sapphire gem resting on top. It was gold and purple, but looked darker in the lightless room. Prealia squinted her eyes. What in the world?

“The Temple above is dedicate to Lady Kynareth,” Danica explained as she approached the shrine with confidence—while Prealia lingered behind. “But this shrine is for our true patron—Lady of the Air, Xalita.”

Xalita? Who was Xalita? Prealia quickly tried to scroll through the names of immortal beings she knew of, both Aedra and Deadra, but none came. As if Danica was reading her thoughts, the priestess explained as she came before the shrine.

“Xalita was the daughter of Lady Kynareth and a powerful mage,” she said. “She was powerful and strong, but she was sealed away here when the Divines feared her potential.”

Prealia’s skin crawled once again and her instincts roared like an enraged dragon. An entity even the Divines feared. There was only one other Prealia knew that could provoke such an emotion from immortal deities. Alduin.

Suddenly the Dragonborn didn’t feel fresh life coming from Gildergreen like she had from Eldergleam. It was dark, twisted. Prealia blinked and her muscles moved, as if broken from a spell that was binding her.

“W-wait!” she shouted as she rushed towards Danica. But it was too late. The priestess uncorked the flask and poured the dark Sap into the funnel of the Shrine. Then it began to glow.

Prealia skidded to a halt and recoiled as suddenly a purple steam rose from the funnel. The steam expanded into the air, filling half the room like an ominous mist. Danica backed away calmly while the warrior stood wide-eyed, frozen.

“I am… free,” a voice spoke.

It was soft like a whisper, but filled the entire air. Prealia flinched and she looked around for a source that was not there. Then she focused on the expanding mist. It allowed her to watch the mist take form of a shape. Of a woman.

But she didn’t seem complete. Her form was broken, mixing and disappearing into the mist. Like she was part of the mist. Prealia could even see through the woman, if she squinted. A spirit. The Dragonborn saw no legs, but it seemed the spirit wearing violet robes the same shade of the mist around her. A dark hood shadowed her face, but Prealia noticed her eyes were closed, as if she was sleeping. Suddenly the eyes opened, but they were pupilless, instead full of a blue glow.

The Dragonborn’s hair on the back of her neck stood one end when those pupilless eyes focused on her. She instinctively wrapped her hand around the hilt of her sword.

“Xalita, I presume?” the hero hissed.

The spirit tilted her head, almost curiously. She stared at Prealia for several long moments. Then she spoke in a soft, cold whisper.

“Yes. I am Xalita. I am the Goddess of the Air. Patron of Whiterun. And I have you to thank for my return.”

#elder scrolls #Skyrim #skyrim fanfiction #Dragonborn #kynareth #danica pure-spring #eldergleam sanctuary #whiterun

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