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tenthgrove · 3 years ago

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500 Followers Celebration!!!: Part 2 (Yandere Sorbet and Gelato Oneshot)

Apologies for almost forgetting to post this. It's a little something I wrote back in May but never shared with more than a few people. Anyway, I'm shameless, and to celebrate 500 followers I'm releasing it into the wild.

Content warnings: non-consensual drug use, needles (both only mentioned) and typical yandere stuff.

You aren’t certain what the dream was about. It wasn’t a nightmare, you’re certain, but the concrete themes evade you. What you can remember in retrospect, however, is the distinct feeling that something was wrong in the waking world around you. It was as though your rational mind knew, that when the dream ended, the life you would wake up to would be changed irreparably.

The first thing to be said about the room you awake to is that it’s dark. Not the usual dark of your bedroom at night but truly, pitch black. There’s something different about the… aura, as well. Maybe it’s the scent, maybe it’s the feel of your sheets, maybe its the position you’re lying in. This is not your bed.

Your panic rises by the second. Any hope you might still be dreaming is quickly put down to idle hope. Everything about this feels so real. You are struck by the need to get up, to figure out where you are, and kick off the sheets. That’s when you hear rattling. Your arm is heavy. You reach down and feel the cold presence of limp chain at your side. There’s a shackle too, locked around your wrist with no room to wriggle free. If there’s any more proof you needed of what’s happened to you, this is it.

The panic overtakes you. You thrash desperately, pulling at your chain and whimpering in terror. There’s a clicking noise and something pulls free. You become aware of a second item tied around your wrist. It’s a thin string, with nothing attached. You realise with terror that it was some sort of trip-wire.

All possible courses of action spring to your mind too late as footsteps make their way down towards you. There’s multiple people, it sounds like, which doesn’t speak well for your chances. Bundling up your sheets, you huddle against the wall as the door swings open. A light switch flicks on.

As your dark-strained eyes adjust to the light, you are met with the figures of two men. The first, hand still lingering on the switch as he eyes you back, is a slender, dark-dressed man with black hair to match his clothes. The man beside him is smaller and slightly pudgier. His wild green eyes peak out from under his messy yellow hair. His gaze fixes on you, before dissolving into an expression that could be fear, excitement or both. He suddenly lurches forwards. His hands grip your shoulders firmly.

“Oh, look at you!” he coos. You force yourself to meet his gaze and see the wildness with which he looks at you. “Oh Sorbet, aren’t they pretty! Look at them Sorbet, they’re just wonderful!” The hyperactive man stumbles back as though wanting to get a better look at you. His hand is clasped over his mouth like you’re some puppy he just found at the shelter. The taller man takes hold of him from behind and rubs his arms affectionately. His mouth turns up into a small smile.

“Yes my darling, they’re beautiful,” he agrees. “But you shouldn’t touch them just yet. They might still be delirious from the drugs. All said,” he eyes you critically. “They shouldn’t be awake this soon.”

“Does it hurt sweetie?” his partner asks. There’s an uncanny, authentic concern to question that somehow turns your stomach more.

“N-no,” you stammer, keeping your eyes trained on the concrete floor. Truth be told, you’ve got a bit of a headache and the back of your throat pangs with nausea, but it isn’t bad enough to tell them. You decide to keep it to yourself.

“Did you give them that second dose in the end, Gelato?” the calmer man, you believe his name was Sorbet, asks. He approaches you casually and kneels down, pressing a hand to your forehead. “No fever anyway, so it doesn’t look like there’s been a reaction.”

“No. You said not to do it if they seemed fast asleep enough, so I didn’t,” Gelato answers.

“Well, there you have it then,” Sorbet says, apparently satisfied of your good health as he stands back up.

“I could always go find some more of the stuff. If you need more time to get everything ready for them,” Gelato proposes. Sorbet’s eyes flick up and down you as though contemplating what to do with you. He shrugs.

“Probably best to save it. I’d say we’ve already done everything we need to do, so they might as well stay awake for a bit,” he surmises. “Well.” He reaches forward and presses something, a key, you realise when you lean back far enough to look, into a slot on the grate attaching your chain to the wall. It falls free of the wall and chinks onto the ground.

Sorbet leans down again. You realise with a cold sweat that he’s trying to pick you up. Your attempts to scurry into the corner are quickly halted by a sharp yank to your chain, and a moment later you’re lifted against Sorbet’s chest, your faced pressed into the crook of his neck. “Could you please do the door for me, Gel? I’m taking them to the bathroom.” he asks. Gelato mutters something eager and hurries off to open the door from him. You struggle lightly in Sorbet’s hold and he silently presses two fingers against your neck. You take the warning and go still in fear.

Sorbet carries you up a flight of stairs and into the hall of, by all appearances, an ordinary residential house. It’s night, but a warm yellow ceiling lamp sheds light on your surroundings. The walls are a pale, turquoise green, accented by a white wood skirting that runs along the bottom metre. To your left you can see an archway into a clean but cluttered kitchen, lights off, and another staircase is ahead of you bending around to your right. To your right, along the hallway you’ve been carried into, are two more doors, one at the end and one perpendicular to it, the latter of which Sorbet leads you into. Peering over his shoulder, Gelato follows behind you. He catches your gaze and smiles sweetly. You quickly look down at the floor.

Sorbet flicks another switch and another light turns on, along with the gentle humming of ventilation. You adjust your eyes to see that you’re in a small, downstairs bathroom. Furnished with a toilet, sink and shower. Sorbet sits you down on the lid of the toilet and kneels down in front of you.

“You look disorientated. Are you sure you aren’t in any pain?” he asks.

“Just a little,” you admit. Your words a little slurred. “My head hurts. ‘Feel sick too.”

Sorbet sighs.

“You should have told us, (y/n),” he asserts, a hint of frustration, in his voice. That was your name. They know your name somehow. You mumble an apology.

“Oh darling. I’ll have to get you some paracetamol. You really should have said! Oh, and also a bucket for if you get sick in the night. Maybe some ice?”

As Gelato rambles from the doorway, Sorbet pulls a pack of wipes from the sink cabinet and starts to pat down your arms, wiping away the layer of crusted blood. Your heart stills. You didn’t notice that before.

“Why is there blood?” you ask weakly, eyes fixed on the sight. Sorbet dabs away at what appears to be the centre of the wound. His free hand rubs your knuckles slightly.

“You fought back, don’t you remember? Some defensive damage was inevitable,” he answers you.

“No!” you refute, louder than you intended. “I don’t remember anything like that. I don’t know howI got here.”

“Ah,” Sorbet responds. “I imagine that’s from what we gave you,” he explains. A few images flash across the back of your mind. Broken glass. Screaming, fighting. The feeling of being pinned to the floor. Your stomach twitches and you swallow back tears.

“What’s the matter sweetie? You look sad,” Gelato notices. No shit you’re sad. You’ve just been snatched from your home and yet to receive any guarantee you’ll live until morning. There’s a part of you that wants to scream these thoughts to them, but you’re too paralysed by fear and tiredness to do so. The tears start to run.

“Oh darling, darling!” Gelato hushes you, rushing over to wipe your eyes. “Don’t cry, it’s okay! We’re going to look after you!”

“Caro, you’re very good to them but I doubt any of that will work right now. They’re too worked up,” Sorbet notes. You sob into your lap as Gelato caresses your shoulder.

“We can’t just leave them like this, Sorbet. Not alone,” he shivers.

“Perhaps you’re right. Maybe it’s best we put them out again after all. We’ll be better ready to deal with this in the morning,” Sorbet suggests.

“Yes, that’s probably for the best, come on Sweetie, let’s get you back to bed shall we?” Gelato takes your chain and starts to haul you back towards the stairs to the basement, with Sorbet following close behind. When the dark of the basement hits you again, you’re just about ready to fall asleep, but you’re still aware enough to note the peculiar furnishings you missed before.

The mattress you woke up on is tucked away in the corner, swarmed with cushions, pillows and blankets. There’s a small cabinet next to it, along with a table a few feet away with a TV on it. On the other end of the room is a mini-fridge, next to a large empty case of shelves. Are those all… for you?

Gelato guides you to sit down on the mattress, wrapping a blanket around you and fluffing up a pillow as though trying to get you to lie down. As he does so, you’re vaguely aware of Sorbet slotting your chain back into the wall and locking it in place. He looks you up and down again, for a moment seeming to fixate on the stream of tears that run down your cheeks.

“I’m going to go for a minute now. I’ll come back with something to help you sleep. Is that okay, hmm?”

You nod weakly. Honestly, you’re so insanely terrified right now, that falling asleep truly sounds like the better option even if it renders you at their mercy. Sorbet adjusts the blanket around you.

“Alright, sit tight sweetheart. I’ll be back in just a moment,” he promises. He leaves you alone with Gelato. For a moment, the second man is quiet, a hint of something in his eyes that looks like sadness. He sits down next to you and rubs your fingers.

“I’ll stay with you until he comes back, okay?” he offers. You give a quiet hum of acknowledgement, staring straight ahead as your mind starts to dissociate. “It’s really nothing to worry about,” Gelato says. “Just a tiny prick in your arm and then you fall asleep in a few minutes. You’ve done it before, anyway, and we won’t give you so much this time.”

You don’t answer him. He goes still for a little, perhaps unsure of what to say, then pulls you in close against his shoulder. “You’re wonderful,” he tells you.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask him faintly.

“Because we love you.”

“Why?” you implore him. Before he can answer that you fall into renewed tears. Gelato’s voice seems to fade away from you as he frantically tries to calm you. You shut your eyes and hope for this to end. Whatever this is. You’re scared, and you just want to go home. You just want to stop this feeling of fear.

#sorbet and gelato #sorbet and gelato x reader #needles cw #drugs cw #yandere cw

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years ago

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 22 part one

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Not Quite Like Old Times

We ended the previous episode in daylight, with Lan Wangji putting Wei Wuxian and swordpoint and declaring his undying love lecturing him about his lack of sword skills.

We start this episode in full night, with the two of them sitting on a roof together. Presumably they spent the missing scenes getting dinner in the mess hall, doing some laundry, and definitely not making out. Fic writers, do your thing.

Finally, FINALLY, Lan Wangji has chilled out enough to actually sit and listen to Wei Wuxian, instead of yelling at and/or physically attacking him. The Zoloft is really helping!

Wei Wuxian is indulging in romantic recollections of their first rooftop encounter. Lan Wangji, who has loved him since he first laid eyes on him and who wrote a whole song with an entire music video about their love, featuring that very same rooftop encounter, shuts him down so completely he might as well have whipped out Bichen again.

First he corrects his description of events by pointing out they were fighting, not talking, back then. Then when Wei Wuxian continues in his charming, smiley reminiscing vein, Lan Wangji says "things change, how could they stay the same" with a deep, sad, weariness.

He seems like an old man in this moment, and I feel for him, really, I do. But he's not the one who's carrying the actual essence of death around inside him. Wei Wuxian is being much more generous in this interaction than Lan Wangji is.

Wei Wuxian thanks him for not narkng to Jiang Yanli about the whole talisman/forced suicide/ghost hummer/ghost flaying thing he did back in Yiling. Like there is any way Lan Wangji would ever tell Jiang Yanli, of all people, something like that about Wei Wuxian. He's lying to his own brother to cover for Wei Wuxian, and Wei Wuxian totally doesn't get it.

(more after the cut)

Unfortunately, there's no reason Wei Wuxian SHOULD get it, at this point; Lan Wangji has not communicated anything but disapproval to him since his return, and Wei Wuxian, despite their (apparently temporary) mental linkup in the Turtle cave, is not a mind reader.

Lan Wangji is so hurt here, and Wei Wuxian appears to ignore that, continuing to smile and laugh; he’s still sunny, still happy. Seriously, they are so tonally out of step with each other in this conversation, it's excruciating.

Lan Wangji: I’m feeling good about my tear-holding-back ability Wei Wuxian: do I look more fuckable sitting up? Or leaning back?

But every one of these smiles is an absolute lie. This is Wei Wuxian appeasing an authority figure; baffling with bullshit and skating by on charm. This is not a young man confiding in his soulmate.

Even when the conversation shifts, and they talk seriously about what is going on with him, Wei Wuxian is barely confiding anything. He briefly acknowledges that he was in the Burial Mounds for three months, and shudders at the memory, but Lan Wangji doesn't respond to that other than to look away from his face.

This is almost the last thing Wei Wuxian will ever say to anyone about that experience. He only alludes to it again when Jiang Cheng visits the settlement and talks smack about their corpse turnips. Lan Wangji says he wants to know why Wei Wuxian’s cultivation changed, but he really doesn’t; he just wants to convince him to change it back.

Wei Wuxian explains about using Lan clan techniques to protect his temperament, as well as the flute and talismans, to control the resentful energy. This is a good reminder that Wei Wuxian was never a bad student. He was an outstanding cultivator within the Jiang Clan, and he learned a hell of a lot during his time in Gusu, despite getting expelled for fighting.

His original golden core was stronger than Jiang Cheng's, even though he apparently started cultivating later. Yes, he fell asleep during meditation that one time in Episode 43, but that's not because he's bad at meditating, it's because he was tired from getting railed all night by his boyfriend stabbed in the gut by his nephew.

Lan Wangji eventually manages to ask him a question like an interested fellow human being sharing knowledge, instead of like an authoritarian dick calling him to account.

Side note: I still am flopping around trying to find good-sounding English terms for Chinese philosophical concepts. I kind of like "ghost path" vs "sword path" for the two styles of cultivation - I don't know where I saw that, apologies to the translator. I like "necromancy" for the part where the dead are reanimated and controlled, because we definitely have that in English. But there are many layers of nuance in these conversations that English is not equipped to render in a natural-sounding way.

Lan Wangji tells him, again, that it's dangerous, but this time he does it in a gentler and more poetic way, saying it's like taking grain from a burning fire, and says he's in danger of becoming the novel version of Wei Wuxian a demonic cultivator. Wei Wuxian, also gently and seriously, says he knows.

Then he immediately goes back to his lightest tone and promises, with his three-fingers gesture, that he will not fall into demonic cultivation. This gesture is basically the Wei Wuxian "I am totally fucking lying" salute.

He is totally fucking lying, and he MUST know it. He's baking the Yin tiger amulet every day during his meditation, getting ready to use it against Wen Ruohan, getting ready to take over his army of the dead.

He has the audacity to ask Lan Wangji, "do you believe me?" and Lan Wangji, also totally fucking lying, nods. Their relationship is just as broken right now as it was before their courtyard sparring session.

You can tell it's broken, because after they've reached this apparent place of peace, Wei Wuxian just hops down off the roof and LEAVES Lan Wangji sitting by himself. When has Wei Wuxian ever been like "gotta go!" with Lan Wangji? The last time they were here, he spent the night sleeping on the roof tiles just so he could be near him.

As he leaves, Lan Wanji stands up and says "let me help you." Wei Wuxian is not a fan of that idea, at all, if his expression is any guide.

He agrees, though, and leaves smiling, apparently for real, but maybe just practicing for all the fake smiles in his future.

Hooray for War

In the morning, Nie Mingjue makes an angry speech to the 2 dozen cultivators who apparently make up the army. Extras are expensive, y'all.

The senior cultivators are standing to the right or left of him, with the Lan brothers bracketing the Yunmeng sibs. Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng are both staking their claim to Wei Wuxian, while Lan Xichen is standing in the spot closest to Nie Mingjue; Nie Huaisang is on the opposite side with the Jins.

All of the random cultivators yell a war chant in response to Nie Mingjue's speech, while the senior cultivators are like, we don't have to do that yelling stuff, thank goodness.

Nie Mingjue's war outfit includes metal (ish) epaulets on his shoulders and a totally not-kinky belt featuring multiple rings with nothing attached to them (yet) and an angry demon face right above his junk.

Nie Mingjue says we're going to storm into Nightless city and I'm going to chop off Wen Ruohan's head! By which he means, I'm going to get captured and get my ass beat, and then my murder-babie ex-boyfriend who had this belt specially made for me is going to stab Wen Ruohan in the back while he's distracted. They do say no plan survives contact with the enemy.

Side note: Baxia makes a loud metallic "shnk" noise when NMJ takes it off his back during this speech, even though Baxia does not have a scabbard. You do you, Baxia.

All the senior cultivators file out down the center while everyone else parts to let them pass. Then everybody does the Electric Slide.

Jiang Cheng tells Wei Wuxian they should go ahead of the main force to get some killing in early, but Wei Wuxian just pulls a face and looks down, staying with Lan Wangji.

Jiang Cheng is disappointed, and no doubt takes this as a sign of WWX choosing LWJ over him. But actually, WWX can't fight side-by-side with Jiang Cheng without showing his weakness.

LWJ and WWX exchange one of their unspoken "let's go" eye touches and get ready to ride out together with the main force.

Lan Wangji is still super, super sad. Wei Wuxian is still fake. But something is starting to knit together between them, and once they can hit a battlefield together, it will get a lot stronger.

On A Horse With No Name

Everyone rides out on horses, which will presumably get eaten somewhere along the way, because they appear to travel on foot after this. While Wei Wuxian practices his horseback-flute-twirling, Lan Wangji asks why Wei Wuxian didn't go with the forward force to fight.

Wei Wuxian says that he has a case of the don'wannas, and Lan Wangji snarkily points out that he used to like fighting. Wei Wuxian reacts, just as he did at the end of their sword fight, with embarrassment, and doesn't answer.

Lan Wangji, sweetie. You are really not helping.

At this point, despite their ongoing fighting, Wangxian are clearly together again. Lan Wangji isn't riding with his brother; he's RIGHT next to Wei Wuxian, and will stay close to him through the rest of the campaign.

Nie Huaisang hollers "Wei-Xiong" from the top of the battlements and tells him to take care. Wei-Xiong lifts his flute in acknowledgement while Nie Huaisang looks worried. He doesn't tell Nie Mingjue or Lan Wangji to take care, just Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian is his particular friend, more than Lan Wangji is, but he may also be concerned because he can tell that Wei Wuxian isn't well.

Nie Huaisang hasn't yet developed the deep cynicism that he calls upon in his quest to avenge his brother, but he has always been a voracious collector of information, and he is keenly observant.

Side note: what the fuck is going on with this sculpture? Kudos to the artist. This has beautiful forms, and is weird and disturbing. The main head is wearing a horned skull on its forehead, small ungulates that I hesitate to call “deer” chilling on its horns, and...snakes? biting its ears?

Boring Wen Interlude

Wen Ruohan is waving his hands around. Sigh. This is one of the more boring villain performances ever, and it's not the actor’s fault. They could have given him a sidekick to yell at or something, so we could get more than just hand waving. I’ve given up screen capping any of this; there are more interesting things to look at.

Battle Moves

Jin Zixuan and Jiang Cheng and their forces have an extended fight scene with a bunch of puppet dudes and stuntmen in harnesses.

It's pretty fun to watch. (Fanvid with more over here)

The gist of the fighting scenes is that Wen Ruohan is getting stronger, and Klingons are hard to beat.

Battle Planning

Finally we see a sidekick with Wen Ruohan, although he's blurry so it's hard to tell that he is totally Meng Yao.

The Sunshotters have set up a Battle Camp Playset. It's got chunks of gates and walls that don't connect to anything, like a Duplo set. It's just randomly open for most of the back area so that anyone can walk in.

They've got a cage of hilarious definitely-not-zombies set up, and the rest of the wounded cultivators are lying on the ground.

The main battle trio go chill in Nie Mingjue's incredibly fancy tent. They talk it over and say it's impossible to kill unkillable enemies, "even when we have millions of troops." And by “millions” they mean “dozens.”

Nie Mingjue decides the way to handle it is to kill the leader and everyone else will collapse, because he has watched vampire movies and the last season of Game of Thrones and that's how it works. Watching the last season of Game of Thrones is why he is so angry all the time He says he's going to sneak into Nightless City and assassinate Wen Ruohan.

Okay, first of all, Nie Mingjue can sneak? I don't believe it. Second of all, if that was possible, why didn't he do it as soon as Wen Ruohan attacked his clan?

Nie Mingjue wants to take the biggest risk because he's the commander in chief, which is not how commanding is supposed to work, but okay.

He says if he dies, Zewu Jun will take over. Jiang Cheng starts to protest but Zewu Jun appears as if conjured, and shows them a map that will...dear GOD his hands are beautiful.

It's a helpful map, painted in multiple colors with careful writing on it, so if anyone were to show it to Nie Huaisang he would probably go "oh cool Meng Yao painted that" because anyone who could paint that well probably spent a fair amount of time at it on a regular basis. But, Nie Huaisang isn't here so, nope.

It’s always nice to see Jiang Cheng smile.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Waniji examine some of the puppets to see what's up. It's transmitted by touch, and Lan Wangji says that curing one dude takes three months of spiritual power. Ain’t nobody got time for that.

Writing Prompt: Missing scene! How did they get from the fight in the courtyard to the talk on the roof?

Soundtrack: 1. Shine on You Crazy Diamond, by Pink Floyd 2. Electric Boogie, by Marcia Griffiths

#the untamed #the untamed gifs #wangxian #the untamed meta #canary3d-original #my gifs #wordcount 2379 #restless rewatch the untamed

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vanigoghhomeplease · 3 years ago

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Part 2 (Wei Wuxian)

Part 1 (Lan Wangji) here

(cw: I’d say canon-typical levels of body dysmorphia going on in this one)

Wei Wuxian used to love his body.

He used to say, I have a good body. It’s strong, and it’s beautiful, and it’s full of light.

And when his friends rolled their eyes and told him, You think of yourself too much, he wasn’t bothered, because he knew it wasn’t true. These moments, when he spoke aloud all the good things about his body, were the only times he thought much about himself at all — and was pleased by the warm snap of realization that he actually loved himself very much.

Wei Wuxian’s body did what he asked of it, over and over and over.

He got it drunk, and still it woke in the mornings. He scrambled through the forest and the welts from whipping branches healed before he could concern himself with their sting. He launched himself at people — to pummel them, to embrace them — and his hands, his legs, his lips obeyed.

He believed he contained a light that would never go out.

Wei Wuxian thought hard before hollowing himself out.

And when Wen Qing tried to talk him out of it, how could he tell her?

I’ve already done it. I am so close to being empty already, and my brother so nearly whole again.

How could she know the light was burning him from the inside?

Wei Wuxian peeled away from his spent body like skin curling from a rash. His wounds, which used to solder themselves back together in an afternoon, were now permanent, his bandages just another layer to dress in the mornings.

Every person he saw had a better body than his, and they didn’t even know it. Every movement made by someone else was an improvement — more organic, more confident, than his own.

He called Lan Zhan’s name in the market and watched him look up, his neck solid as the swooping branch of a cyprus, his hands blushed at the knuckles like a doll’s. It hit Wei Wuxian then what a ghost he’d already become. Standing before Lan Zhan, he was a specter peering out through a mirror at the living.

When Wei Wuxian fell, his body wasn’t his. He’d already given it away, pound by pound of flesh: little grisly gifts that he was sure everyone around him was simply too afraid to ask for.

And now that he has a body again, can he really say that it belongs to him?

He runs his fingers through its hair and feels the scalp pull. When he is alone, he bites the fleshy part of its hand, just below the index finger, until it’s red and glistening.

The pain means something, he thinks, but he just can’t work it out.

But now, when his mind tells him he’s missed a step on the stairs and he gasps awake into yet another borrowed day, there is a pair of hands that catch him. There are ten other fingers that tug through his hair. There is another set of lips that kiss the mark his strange teeth have left on his unfamiliar hand. There is Lan Zhan: stolid and wry and somehow still rooted in himself after more than one lifetime.

Uncanny as a snail swapping shells, Wei Wuxian settles. His new body teaches him patience; it gets him where he wants to go. And there is light inside it — just enough, just one small candle to show him the way forward.

He sits late into the night, Lan Zhan sleeping, breathing a steady song beside him, and he thinks, What is a body if not a bridge? I can reach out and touch him — isn’t that the only thing that matters?

In his last life, Wei Wuxian reached out and touched everything in his path, whether it was a waterfall or a sizzling coal.

He had just wanted to know what it all felt like.

He lays a palm across Lan Zhan’s cheek, cool with sleep and night air. He wonders, as Lan Zhan stirs and presses into his hand, curling closer and then growing still again, how he ever missed it before: this bridge suspended between them — this twist of fibrous devotion so unyielding it could reach around the stars and yank them closer — this rushing, visceral love that renders the body — any body — inconsequential.

#I said there was more and I was not kidding #there’s also a jc one I’ll probably end up posting as well #I honestly love writing these little deep dives #any character requests? lol I’ll fuckin do it #I would have loved to make this more Wangxian ™️#but I think when it comes to wwx’s relationship with his body #there is simply Too Much Going On #my art #my writing #fan fic #the untamed #wei wuxian #writing

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corvus--rex · 3 years ago

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So, to start off with, these are a little rough. Mostly cleaned up for spelling/grammar, but there are things that are more like placeholder notes in exposition form that would be written out if I went back to it.

This one's working title is Quantum Fracture, is "in universe" non-canon compliant, and is set both near the end of s.2 after ep.9, and a few years post s.8. It's also only semi-abandoned. I like it and want to keep going with it, but I've hit a wall and just can't do anything with it right now. It has (sort-of) time travel and "Galra genetics are weird" resulting in Klance kids. It does also switch between times, but those sections have punctuation separators.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Lance, Pidge, keep watch on the area. Keith, Hunk, and I will go down to check it out,” Shiro said over the comms.

“Got it.”

“Copy that.”

Green and Blue split off from the V-formation, flying over the asteroid while Black, Red, and Yellow landed on its surface. Lance and Pidge kept a visual track on their friends while keeping their scanners active for anything in the area. Team Voltron had been on their way back to the Castle after liberating another planet from the Galra Empire when Pidge’s more finely-tuned scanners picked up on what looked like an abandoned Galra base embedded in an asteroid. Shiro made the call to check it out and let Allura and Coran know what was going on, keeping Lance and Pidge on watch. The Black Paladin took point, with Keith right behind him. Hunk brought up the rear, man-portable cannon ready for whatever might try to sneak up on them. The facility was powered down, a layer of dust on every surface.

“Looks like it really is abandoned,” Keith said, “I don’t think there’s anyone or anything left here.”

“Agreed, but I want to complete a sweep of the facility. Never know what might have been left behind,” Shiro replied.

They continued on, not making any real effort at stealth, but only made it about another 20 feet before a side door creaked and flew open, Keith finding himself blown out into space, despite Hunk’s effort to prevent it. Keith tried to use his jetpack to redirect himself and head back to the facility, but there was just enough gravity generated by the density of the asteroid field to pull him toward the nearest surface. He bounced off the next asteroid, damaging his jetpack in the process. It sent him away from the asteroid field and into open space.

This isn’t how this was supposed to go, Keith thought as he floated in the void, then realized just how much Lance was rubbing off on him. His back hit a second, smaller asteroid, and he bounced off into the nothingness. Come on, Red. Where are you?

He felt the shift in the vacuum an instant before the sensors in his armor picked it up. The short chirp announced the sensors’ findings, bringing it up on the HUD. The display’s minimal capabilities showed the slight variant, a faint ripple in the fabric of space.

“The fuck is that?” he asked the void of space.

He hadn’t expected an answer, and didn’t get one. What he did get was the familiar mental pressure of the red Lion, immediately followed by the equally familiar golden glow of the robotic cat’s eyes. Red swallowed the paladin’s free-floating body, and he rolled through the slowly pressurizing corridor before the artificial gravity activated. He had only just taken his seat in the cockpit when he heard Pidge shouting across the comms.

“Keith! Are you ok? There was a spatial-temporal fluctuation right next to you.”

“Yeah, I felt it, but I'm ok,” he answered, exhausted from the mission and subsequent launch into space.

Green came up alongside Red, guiding them back to the Castle, Blue right behind them. Once the three Paladins were back aboard the Castle of Lions, Pidge insisted that Keith go to the medical deck, just in case.

“Ok, fine, Pidge. But I'm fine. Really,” Keith protested while simultaneously giving in.

She didn’t trust him to really go, but she was also concerned with the anomaly she found, so didn’t question it when Lance volunteered to make sure Keith went.

“Keith, what were you thinking?” Lance asked when they were alone.

“I don’t know what happened. It wasn’t anything I did and Hunk and Shiro will figure it out. Pidge is more worried about the space-time ripple we encountered. But I'm fine. Really.”

Blue’s Paladin stopped in the middle of the empty corridor. “You scared me, cuervo. I saw you get ejected into empty space without Red or any of us nearby. Pidge said she was going after you, but still…it scared me.”

“I don’t think we should hide anymore. I think it’s time to let the team in on our secret.”

The pair had been dating secretly for a month at that point, intentionally keeping their relationship from the rest of the team. Keith didn’t think they would have been taken seriously to begin with, and Lance agreed. After a late-night talk, they both decided to give it time and let themselves settle into their budding relationship. But it was beginning to make them behave differently, especially on missions. They became focused on where the other was and it was causing mistakes. This last mistake could have been deadly, although Keith was right, he hadn’t done or not done anything that led to the deserted Galra base’s small side door opening and pulling the Red Paladin into the cold vacuum of space.

“Yeah, I think you might be right,” Lance admitted.

Keith took his boyfriend’s hand, linking their fingers together, and headed toward the medical deck. Coran met them there, no doubt having been called by Pidge. Keith was thoroughly checked over by way of the Castle’s scanners, and as far as they could tell, not a molecule was out of place. After finding out that Keith was at least partly Galra, Pidge and Hunk had thrown themselves into a reprograming project to the medical deck’s scanners, integrating human biological standards. They were surprised to find that the scanners were already programmed with Galra standards, and that was when Coran told the entire team about the original Paladins, Zarkon included.

Instead of the lounge or one of their bedrooms, Lance and Keith instead went to one of the Castle’s many observation balconies. Once they were alone, Keith let himself crumble, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend and holding on as tightly as he could. Lance gently returned the physical connection, understanding that the events of the morning had affected him more than he would let on in front of anyone else. He waited until he could feel the tension drain and knew that Keith was just sneaking middle of the day snuggling.

“You better now?” Lance asked.

Keith sighed softly against Lance’s neck. “Yeah, I think so. We should probably go see what Pidge found before anyone wonders where we went.”

“I don’t wanna,” he protested, holding on tighter.

Keith laughed and pulled away. “Well, if we stop keeping all this a secret, we won’t have to worry about where and when anymore.”

“Ugh. I guess.” Lance’s tone was overdramatic as usual, but his blue eyes sparkled with excitement at the idea of being open about his relationship.

Stepping backward out the door, Keith led the way toward the Lions’ hangars and Pidge’s lab. Halfway down the second to last corridor, Keith tripped over the smooth floor. He caught himself mid-stumble and stopped completely.

“Keith?” Lance asked, “Mi cuervo, you ok?”

_~*~_~*~_~*~_

“Keith! What the fuck was that?” Lance called over the comm.

“Dunno, but my speeder’s sensors caught it. Heading back now,” Keith answered from inside his modified speeder.

Modified, that was, by Pidge, who had retrofitted all of the Lions’ speeders to be able to fly in space. They were still fairly short-range, not capable of straying far from the Lions. It meant that Keith was still in visual range of Red when the Lion’s sensors spiked with the anomaly’s fluctuation.

Lance was waiting at the door to the cockpit when Keith came in. The tail of the raised French braid that normally ran halfway down his back was draped over his shoulder. Lance had insisted on braiding his husband’s hair that morning. Keith had groaned and asked why, seeing as it was just a simple recon mission. “Because you’re pretty, the twins are at school, we have time, and I felt like it,” was the list of reasons Lance rattled off as he made Keith sit. He didn’t mind it, but they usually saved more complex braids for diplomatic missions, not “drive down the street for space readings” missions.

Keith had had his second puberty while in the Quantum Abyss with Krolia, and it ended up being a good thing she was there. Alone, he would have assumed that the abdominal cramping, chills, fever, nausea, and full-body pain meant that he was dying. Krolia, however, recognized the symptoms of the shift in her son’s body to that of a Carrier and becoming physically capable of conceiving and carrying a baby. She told him that his half-human status may well have rendered him infertile, but they didn’t have the resources to look into it at the time, and the middle of a war wasn’t the time to worry about it. So it surprised both Keith and Lance when he found himself pregnant not long after the war ended, and they welcomed their twins Andra and Ori five and a half months later after a normal Galra-length pregnancy. The twins birth records had their names down as Andromeda Artemis and Orion Fenris Kogane-McClain, names that were called with increasing frequency now that the twins were five.

Keith sat himself in the pilot’s seat, pulling up the sensor readings from both Red and the speeder. They looked the same to both himself and Lance, but Pidge would be able to make better sense of them. But something about the anomaly was bothering Keith. It took a good minute of staring at the readings to realize that it was similar to how spacetime behaved near the core of the Quantum Abyss. And something about thatbothered him even more.

“You ok, cuervo?” Lance asked, leaning against the edge of the display panel.

“Yeah,” Keith sighed, “Just something about that anomaly reminds me of the Quantum Abyss. We’ll get it to Pidge and figure it out.”

The trip back to the new Castle was short, Red bypassing the reconfigured IGF-Atlas and heading directly for his hangar on the original Castle of Lions. After the end of the Galra War and the brief, but intense, war with Honerva, the Voltron Coalition needed a permanent – and mobile – base. The Atlas reshaped itself, wrapping around the Castle like the defensive walls of an ancient castle around its keep. Its completed size rivaled that of Galra Central Command, now the seat of the newly-formed Galra Collective.

Team Voltron’s power couple – beating out Shiro’s marriage to Adam – crossed the distance to Green’s hangar, where Pidge still maintained her personal lab. They found her buried in her multi-screen setup, one screen dedicated to the call she was on with her long-distance Olkari girlfriend Malyn, the others covered in technical readouts, diagrams, and blueprints.

“We’re back,” Keith announced when they walked in.

“Oh good. Anything weird happen out there?” Pidge said, taking Keith’s comm.

“The anomaly is behaving like the core of the Quantum Abyss.”

Pidge shoved the device into her computer a little harder than she intended. Except for her ongoing call, she wiped everything off the other screens, replacing what was on them with the readouts from both Red and the speeder. Her amber eyes flicked from screen to screen, already analyzing.

“I’m really sorry, Malyn. I have to call you later.”

“Of course. Is everything all right?” Malyn asked, concern laced in her voice.

“I’m not sure yet. We found a spatial-temporal anomaly, but it’s behaving differently from anything similar I’ve seen. Maybe…there was one…nah, that was different…”

Malyn laughed, she always found her girlfriend’s analytical mind adorable. “I’ll let you get to that. We’ll talk later.”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. I'm sorry, Malyn. We’ll talk again later, promise,” Pidge apologized again, but Malyn waved her off, still laughing, and cut the call.

“So, you'll let us know when you’ve found something?” Lance prompted.

“What? Yeah. Right. This is weirder than anything I've ever seen like this…”

Lance and Keith shared a look, knowing that Pidge was fully invested in the data and that she wouldn’t leave her computer unless she was physically removed. Deciding on the tactical retreat, they left her to it, heading back to their apartment on the Castle.

The Atlas hadn’t been the only thing to be reconfigured. The Castle of Lions had undergone its own renovations, the old single rooms turned into apartment-like suites. Shiro and Adam maintained Garrison positions onboard the Atlas, but retired to the Castle at the end of every day. Lance and Keith settled into their apartment after their two month long honeymoon. Hunk was splitting his time between the Castle and Balmera, sharing his space with Shay when they were there. Pidge mostly used hers as an excuse for more tech and a separate workspace, but Malyn stayed there with her when she could get time away from rebuilding Olkarion under Ryner’s guidance. Coran had decided to keep his old room the way it was, and Allura felt that her own rooms didn’t need the upgrade. The rest of the rooms stayed the same for the new Altean crew running the ship at a proper capacity.

It wasn’t until they got back that Keith realized Pidge still had his comm. “Well, shit. I’ll be back,” he said, heading for the door.

Lance decided to follow him out into the corridor.

“Why?”

“Because,” Lance answered, “I have nothing better to do and I can watch you walk away all day.”

“What the fuck, Lance?” Keith groaned in mock frustration.

“No, that’s after we get your comm.”

Keith turned, intending to call Lance out on exposing him like that, but stumbled, relieved that Lance was close enough to catch him.

“You alright, cuervo?”

“Yeah, I'm fine. Just tripped,” he said, but stopped. Something was wrong. He could feel the braid hanging over his shoulder from when he stumbled, felt the strength in Lance’s arms. No, this was wrong. He looked up. There was a small scar he didn’t remember being there, and the blue Altean marks were definitely new. His own body felt foreign. It was shaped differently, taller and broader than it should be. His voice was different, a little deeper, a little huskier than it should be. “Lance?”

“Keith, love, are you really ok?”

“I…I don’t know.”

Lance helped him to stand, leading him back to their apartment. Once inside, he sat Keith on the couch. “What happened? Exactly,” he asked.

“What does – is this about the anomaly? I told you before that I'm fine. We had Coran check me out. There was nothing wrong. Where are we anyway?”

“We didn’t have Coran check you out. There’s an entire medical crew for that anyway. We’re home, on the Castle. What do you remember from this morning?” Lance’s entire tone was cautious. Something was very wrong with his husband, but he wanted to have at least some answers before bringing it up with anyone else.

“We were coming back from a mission and stopped to check out an abandoned Galra base in an asteroid field. One of the side doors opened and I got blown out. There was a ripple in space-time, and I got close to it in nothing but my armor before Red came to get me. But I'm fine. I told both you and Pidge that.”

Lance remembered that mission. Overall, it was unremarkable. The base didn’t have anything useful. But there hadn’t been any temporal fluctuations. Yes, Keith had ended up floating through the void, but nothing happened other than that. The only reason he remembered that mission in particular was because that was when they decided to tell the team that they were together. It had been ten years since that mission.

“Ok. I do remember that. But, that was ten years ago. That was when we decided to tell the team that we’d been dating for a month.”

Keith’s face flickered between shock, bewilderment, and terror. Ten years? There was no way that could be right. But the evidence was right there. His own body and voice were different. He could see and feel how long his hair had gotten. And then there was Lance. He was beautiful as ever, and it certainly seemed that they were still together, but he was different. The scar, the Altean marks – how and when the fuck did that happen, and why? – and there was the fact that he was broader, more muscled, not slender and willowy like he had been. He processed everything in real time, not saying a word in that time. It had apparently been longer than he thought, because Lance was looking up at him from where he’d tilted his head to the side.

“Keith? Mi cuervo? What is going on?”

“You…you still call me that? It really has been ten years?”

“This has to be related to that anomaly,” he muttered. “Yeah, it’s really been ten years. And, yeah, I do still call you that. A lot’s changed in ten years, but not that. Stay here. I need to show you something. It might help.” Lance stood, leaving the room for their bedroom, coming back in less than a minute. He extended his free hand, bringing Keith over to the table where they both sat. Lance placed a ring of smoothly twisted and woven silver metal and carved crystal that shifted between blood red, cobalt, and vibrant violet on the table between them. “Do you remember this?” he asked softly, “Do you remember when I gave you that?”

Keith stared at it like if he could untwist it mentally, he could remember what it was. But he couldn’t, because Lance had never given him anything like it. It was definitely something he could see Lance picking for him, but as far as Keith knew, he never had.

“No, I don’t,” he had to admit.

Lance sighed, a tinge of sadness to it. “Ok. Something happened with the temporal anomaly we found earlier and that Pidge is still analyzing. I know you’re really Keith, but I don’t think you're my Keith. What you said happened this morning happened ten years ago for me. We need to go check in with Pidge and see if she’s figured anything out yet.”

“Ok,” Keith agreed, rising to follow Lance, “I shouldn’t know anything else. Not yet. But at least I know we’re still together.”

“We certainly are,” Lance agreed, taking Keith’s hand, “We’ll figure this out. That anomaly might have fucked with your memories somehow, but we’ll figure it out.”

_~*~_~*~_~*~_

“Yeah, fine.” Keith stood on his own, suddenly realizing that they shouldn’t have been a corridor and a half away from Green’s hangar, they should have been close to their apartment in a completely different part of the castle. Everything seemed ever so slightly bigger, except for himself and Lance. His braid was gone, and he was wearing clothes he hadn’t seen in years. And Lance looked so young. This was the thin, wiry boy he’d fallen in love with more than ten years before. The one without the Altean marks he’d gotten when Allura revived him after saving her from an energy blast. But he heard Lance call him by that familiar pet name. That alone left Keith with more questions.

“We need to see if Pidge’s gotten anywhere with that anomaly,” Lance said.

“Yeah,” Keith agreed. When had his voice gotten higher?

Keith stopped when they walked into Pidge’s lab. It wasn’t what he was expecting. This was the lab of a decade earlier. The one with the laptop she’d brought from Earth along with the equipment she had either repurposed or built from scratch. It startled him, and he froze in place.

“Keith, seriously, are you ok?”

“I…I don’t know anymore. Everything is wrong. Where is everyone else?”

“Hunk and Shiro are heading back from the abandoned base now. That door just malfunctioned after going so long without maintenance. And there was absolutely nothing important there,” Pidge answered, still focused on her computer screen. She realized part of what he said and turned around. “Wait, what do you mean ‘everything is wrong’?”

“You’re looking at a spatial-temporal anomaly, but it didn’t happen now. There shouldn’t have been one here. I…I think I might be from your future. Or, at least, sort of. I don’t look any different to you, do I?”

“No. You don’t. Get back to the part where you think you're from the future.”

“I don’t know how much I should tell you. I don’t know if it could upset the timeline. But I know when I am now.” He turned to Lance. “It’s been about a month now, right? And we had that talk?”

Lance nodded, trying to understand just what his boyfriend was saying about the future. “Yeah, and we did talk about it. Just a few minutes ago. But if you're from the future, I don’t know if talking about that now will help. It also doesn’t answer the question of if you’re Future Keith, what happened to Present Keith?”

“I don’t know. Best case, he switched places with me. He’ll be confused and probably a little scared, but I know he’s in good hands there. Fuck it feels weird talking about myself in the third person. Have you found out anything about the anomaly here?” he asked Pidge.

“Well, I think so, but I've never seen anything like this before.”

Keith came up behind her, looking over their temporal disruption. It was identical to the one he’d found in his time. He had no question now that he had switched bodies with his 18-year-old self. But at least there were a few things he didn’t need to worry about hiding. He knew he was at least partly Galra at this point. He wouldn’t meet Krolia for a little while, so he would have to keep that one to himself. But it also meant that he hadn’t been through the Quantum Abyss yet. There was no way he could tell them about that without explaining everything. He would have to be subtle with asking about the war.

“I have, but I can’t tell you anything specific. Like where, why, or how. And even knowing what it is, I don’t have your science brain, Pidgey. I have no idea how it works.”

Both Pidge and Lance were staring at him. Not because of what he said, but how he said it. He’d picked up a lot of linguistic quirks from Lance over the years, and no longer gave it any thought at all.

“You sound like Lance,” Pidge said finally.

“We’ve all spent a lot of time together over ten years,” Keith replied, avoiding the real question.

“Sure. What canyou tell me about this?”

Keith pulled Hunk’s usual seat over, sitting beside her. Lance perched on an empty spot of desk space, suddenly wanting to be closer to his boyfriend, or whatever he was at that point.

“It’s specific to a single point in space, but not this one. But that’s the problem. I can’t tell you anything about where it is or what it is because you haven’t gotten there yet. All I can say is that space and time work very differently there due to massive fluctuations in gravity, which is why this doesn’t make any sense.”

“Because there’s something there that affects the gravity in a way that it doesn’t where we found it.”

“Basically. It’s more like what affects gravity there doesn’t exist anywhere else, especially where this anomaly was found. It’s also far smaller here than it should be. Like the difference in scorch marks between Lance’s rifle and Hunk’s autocannon.”

“So, this anomaly is a precise shot, and where it should be is a huge mess,” Lance said.

“Pretty much,” Keith agreed, “But I really can’t tell you about it because there’s something vital to the war there and I don’t know how it would change things if you found out about it now. It wouldn’t be good. There are other players you don’t know about yet.”

Pidge continued typing away at her laptop, the 3D render of the anomaly rotating on the screen. Lance wanted to watch the progress, but he couldn’t focus on it. His attention was solely on Keith. Except for his earlier phrasing, he didn’t think Pidge had picked up on just how different he was. Body language, mannerisms, almost everything had changed in some way except for his physical appearance. And there was one thing Lance had noticed almost immediately after Keith started talking about the anomaly. He was pretty sure Keith wasn’t aware of it, but he had been running his left thumb across the ring finger of the same hand, like there was something missing. Lance thought about bringing it up, but decided not to, heavily suspecting Keith would just say that it was something else he couldn’t talk about.

~*~*~*~

Links to the rest of the series:

1 | 2 | 3* | 4 | 5* | 6* | 7 | 8 | 9* | 10 | 11 | 12* | 13 | 14 | 15* | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19*

#my writing #abandoned wips #Klance #vld #voltron #omegaverse #sort of #keith x lance #keith kogane #lance mcclain

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littlx-songbxrd · 3 years ago

Note

okok here it is, i don't have a working title yet lol and i wrote the first like three paragraphs a year ago and only now finished it

but uh here it is ig (it's long so below the cut)

oh and i named the characters before i read chog believe it or not so there is no correlation lol

Prologue - Cordelia

May brings with it the memory of battles fought and won and the ever looming presence of a war not quite lost but certainly nowhere near done. As I hand out threadbare blankets around the flickering fires of the temporary war camp, I have to force my mind not to stray to all the people who should be here but are not. Well, the one person, really. I don’t allow myself to dwell, for I know that if I let my heart open to loss, there will be no hope at closing the hole left behind. No one here will tolerate that.

Yet no one criticizes Halen when she fumbles and breaks her fragile composure, storming out of the planning tent, the memories glistening in her eyes threatening to spill over. No, when it’s her, they rush to comfort her, to appease her, and they tell her to take all the time she needs. After all, has the poor girl not been through enough? they whisper pityingly as though we all haven’t lost others to this fight. But, of course, it’s not my place to comment on the actions of the mighty Chosen One. Even if she is my friend.

I look down to find my hands are empty. Tir has taken the last blanket from me without my noticing, and he’s settling down against his pack with his bare feet at the fire. I scowl; he isn’t allowed to speak against Halen either, despite being her older brother.

Heaving a sign, I slump down next to my friend and pull a corner of the blanket over myself. Tir shifts slightly so I can lean against his shoulder. We don’t speak. There are no words big enough to dispel the cloud of grief that hangs over us.

I know Tir is thinking of Zo today, just like he knows I’m thinking of Cherry.

Both of us, I’m sure, are also thinking that Halen ought to be here. She ought to be spilling those tears she always threatens and apologizing meaninglessly for deaths that aren’t her fault. Since when did she choose to be distant and calm? Couldn’t she at least have the decency to break down with the rest of us?

I scowl at a gecko as it skitters through the dirt toward the treeline to the west. I should say something to Halen. I should scream at her, sob at her, cry out until she understands that we need her as a friend, not just a commander.

My mind made up, I stand quickly, earning a confused stare from Tir. “Where are you off to?” he asks, his voice thick.

I shake my head. “Somewhere that isn’t here.”

He chuckles and reaches up to squeeze my hand. It’s enough. He was never one for many words.

I smile sadly down at him and set off to the eastern shore, where the purple and gold tents of the Eneris royal tents have been set up. Their fire and sun emblem shines bright on the tent flaps behind guards dressed in layers upon layers of robes and wraps and blankets. I scoff. The army settled just twenty yards away is shivering under thin blankets and dying fires while the royals and their company dine on mutton and venison. Not that I’ve come to expect anything else from them. They recruited Halen and built this army from the ground up—of course they believe themselves worthy of a few more precious coins exchanged for better conditions.

Even today, the first anniversary of Monvira’s troops storming villages and uprooting lives, they haven’t so much as acknowledged the flood of pain that’s sweeping through their army. I wonder if they even know what May first means to their people.

I stop mid-stride, staring straight ahead at the Strategy tent, where I know Halen spends most of her time these days.

It hits me: May first. The sky is clouded and the birds are silent, but it’s May first and no one bothered telling me that I forgot my birthday. Which was April thirtieth. No one noticed.

Weariness pushes at the back of my eyes, and I blink heavily against the tears blurring my vision. Memories from last year flood my mind as I turn and hurry towards Halen’s private tent. It bares the same colors and seal as the others.

I collapse on her bedroll and let out a single sob.

Last year, on the night of my birthday, Cherry had wrapped a blanket around us both as we stumbled back to our village after a whole day spent together at Renton Lake. She’d kissed my hand and twirled me toward the hut I shared with Halen, giggling in the moonlight, her dark unbound hair spilling over her shoulder like a waterfall of night. The memory rips through me, forcing another sob out of my quaking body.

The next morning, she’d been gone.

I’m not sure how long I lay there, my tears collecting in a pool around my head, but eventually the shaking subsides and leaves behind a solemn heaviness. Only when I hear the tent flap ruffle do I stir. There’s a small gasp, then: “Delia?”

Halen’s nickname for me only makes the smallest dent in my sorrow. I push myself to a sitting position, sure that my face is red and splotchy and my hair wild and tangled. All in all, I don’t blame her for looking taken aback. “Delia, what is it?” she gushes, crouching before me and taking my face in her hands. “What’s wrong? What can I do?”

This is exactly what I wanted when I stormed in here. Now, I nearly laugh. It’s pathetic, really, all this time I’ve spent cleaning up after Halen, chasing her, thinking maybe she could do something that would fill the cavity growing inside me. I see it now, as her hazel eyes rake my face. “Nothing,” I tell her. Her thumbs are soft as they wipe away the tears that trickle down my cheeks. “Not anymore.” My voice is scratchy, and I push down against a wave of shame. I’m better than this. I’m better than breaking down in my friend’s plush tent. I’ve never been the emotional one—that was always Halen.

I wipe away my tears, feel myself stand and walk out of the tent, my mind still occupied with hazy revelations I’m too exhausted to fully pursue. There’s a feeling in my gut, the only one that matters right now, and it’s an overwhelming cry to get out.

The grass is silent under my feet as I walk, and I’m distantly aware of Halen calling after me. Her cries of “Wait!” and “What’s going on, Cordelia?” follow me, even after she stops.

I keep walking.

I don’t look back.

---

so uh yeah that's it 👉👈 i can give u the idea of the book if u want or you can just take this offering and run lol <33

Im gonna give you my unfiltered thoughts with no order or organization

REMEMBER ME WHEN YOURE RICH AND FAMOUS AND A NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR

OMG IM GONNA GET TO BRAG I SAW THE PROLOGUE TO AN AWARD WINNING BOOK IN THE FUTURE HOLY SHIT

I DONT HAVE ENOUGH WORDS TO EXPLAIN HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS AND IM BILINGUAL

RENDERED ME SPEECHLESS IN TWO LANGUAGES GO YOU

SHE DIDNT EVEN REMEMBER HER BIRTHDAY HOLY SHIT

LOOK I ADORE THE FEELINGA CORDELIA POTRAYED DURING THE ENTIRE PROLOGUE

LIKE HOW YOU WROTE IT IS JUST

I WANTED HER TO COME BREAKDOWN WITH THE REST OF US?????

NO IM SORRY IM HORRIBLE AT COMPLIMENTING EVERYTHING HERE IS BRILLIANT

1) i have a basis for how the crown is unfair (based on cordelias description) ALSO HOW CORDELIA DESCRIBED "i wasnt even sure if they knew what may 1 meant to their people" IDK BUT I LOVED HOW OT WAS WRITTEN. Its not explicit BUT LEAVES THE MESSAGE SAID

2) basis to whats going on? C H E C K

3) JUST HOW YOU WROTE CORDELIAS GRIEVE AND ESTABLISHED THE CHARACTER

Artie i've told you a million times but I adore your writting style, i always adored it BIT READING YOUR ORIGINAL WORK

I FEEL SO PROUD OF YOU?????

Your style is perfect

I WASNT LOST WHICH IS GOOD!

AND LEAVES ME WANTING FOR MORE

I DIDNT NOTICE BUT MY PHONE HAS LOW BATTERY SO IF I DONT REPLY AFTER THIS ITS THAT BUT TELL ME MORE PLS

#also im so curious on halen #pls i need more

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hobbitsnapes · 4 years ago

Text

The Red Hoods Protègè chapter 20

Older Damian Wayne x ofc

(Photo made by my lovely friend @iamhollows)

Summary:Red Hood has taken a young vigilante under his wing and subsequently changes Damians life forever.

Tags: @comic-nerd-dc @comic-brew @psychovigilantewrites @psych0crybaby

Her feet screamed in pain as she walked into the cave, each step growing more tiresome than the last.

It was a long night, going from 9 to 5 in the morning. The sun hadn’t rose from the sky yet, not for another hour or more. The first 3 hours was nothing but sit and wait, the cold November air shaking to her core as she sat and prayed that they would just hurry along.

At midnight was when they finally came, her patients slim to none due to the freezing temperature.

She managed to get the information and take out majority of the men with little bloodshed.

The next 6 hours was spent delivering the information to her fathers bunker, where he sadly wasn’t there to meet her. Also managing to stop 3 robberies, 2 hit and runs, and stopping an elderly man from being jumped.

The night had been fairly uneventful, that was until her bike halted mid way to the manor. She swore up and down for half an hour as she walked her bike back to the manor, through the storm that conveniently hit when she started walking back.

A groan leaves her as she peels her suit from her body, her muscles sore from having walked from the middle of the city back home.

A hiss breaks the silence as she feels a sharp pain in her right shoulder blade. Feeling behind her and wincing when she felt the small drop of blood.

Her scars had almost completely heeled over the years, no longer open wounds that would always scream out in pain. But once in a while, when she might have swong her arms wrong, some of the deeper scars would slightly open up.

It was nothing major, nothing that required stitches or immediate care. Just a clean and a bandage

A tear slips past her eye when she saw where it was, the largest j scar on her shoulder was slightly dripping, reminding her of the first time she saw them.

A gasp leaves her as she looks in the mirror in horror, sobs wrecking through her as she fell to her knees. Raw skin and stitches barley healing covered her shoulders, some of the skin being completely gone and looking like chunks were missing. The skin was red, some lighter and darker as blood dries along all the wounds.

She knew it was bad, the excruciating pain that she constantly felt a clear sighn that it was going to be large. But nothing could prepare for the mangled skin of her back that once was scar free.

Her heart throbbed in pain as she yells out in anguish. Her sobs breaking as she passes out on the dirty bathroom floor.

She wipes away her tear as she grabs for the alcohol, sucking in a deep breath before squirting the liquid on the cut.

A hiss breaks out as the burning consumes her shoulder, trying to steady her breath. Once the pain subsided, she patted the skin dry and applied the large bandage to the cut, finally turning away from the mirror and walking back to her room.

The sharp air hit her skin almost immediately, sending a wave of goosebumps to erupt from her skin.

It was snowing, quite lightly in fact. The ground barley had a layer of the fine white snowflakes over it, like a sheet covering a bed.

Her feet walked along the ground, watching each step as to not slip. Looking around the vast garden as the small flakes made a beautiful picture. This is what she wished winter could be. But alas, it would only be a matter of weeks before a thick layer of snow blanketed every inch of the beautiful garden. Rendering it near impossible to venture out past the lines of the old manor.

She walked out past the large tree, over past the small patch of plain grass to, a walkway?

She had never seen this before, a path through the thick forest.

She walked into it, seeing the footprints in the almost frozen dirt. She bent down to look, noticing the size difference between hers and the prints.

The wide space between each prints indicates running, and the almost perfectly pristine prints showed it was from today. But who would be out running today? Then she remembered.

She watched as he walked by her open door, a plain under armour shirt with tight sports shorts. He didn’t glance once at her, his permanent furrowed brow on his blank face.

But why would he be running this morning? He hadn’t gone in weeks, preferring to exorcise in the cave as of late.

She decided to stop it and continue walking, ignoring the prints as best as she could.

She came to a stop when she spotted it, no more than a hundred feet in front of her was a pond. It looked almost perfect, no trash, no leaves or grass, only a few lily pads scattered around.

A laugh bubbles out of her when she sees a family of ducks in the pond. She walks up to them, careful as to not scare them. She notices one in the back who was having trouble swimming with the others, flapping its small wings around and trying to keep up. She reaches over to the little one, petting the little bird with the pads of her fingers. “Hey little guy.” She cooes, watching as the small duck shakes it’s soaking body.

She reaches out, grabbing one of the lily pads, and sets him on the pad. “There we go little guy.”

She watched as he sits on the pad as if it’s a ride, a smile on her face at the sight.

Neither one noticed each other when they walked down the hall in opposite directions. Colliding into one another, making them jump and look up, pains igniting in their chests. They just stood there like dear in headlights, both not knowing what to say. Should he say something? Should she apologize? Neither said anything as they looked away, walking back down the hall, their eyes slightly glossing.

She ran down the steps as fast she could, her heart pounding out of her chest as she nearly misses a step.

She runs through the door and barrels over to her dad, running up and latching onto him like a koala bear. He picks her up, laughs bubbling out of him as he spins her around. “I thought you said you’d be here tomorrow?” She says, muffled by his chest. “Welll, I kinda lied cause I wanted to surprise you.” He laughs, letting go of her.

They hadn’t seen one another for about a week, having trouble not only finding the time but a way to get there. Jasons motorcycle had been in the shops for a few weeks, having engine problems that even he couldn’t fix. He’d use his car, but had forgotten to get it inspected.

She hears him before she sees him, the smoothness of his voice a stark contrast to Bruce’s gruff and raspy tone.

A gasp leaves her when she sees him, the tall man in blue jeans, a red flannel and smooth jet black hair and blue eyes.

Jason looks behind him, seeing his daughters hundred yard stare. A laugh bubbles out of him when he sees she’s looking at Clark. He can’t help but find it funny, he remembers the day he met the man of steel for the first time, mirroring the same look as her.

“Robin, meet Superman.” Bruce says to the young boy, a smile on his usually cold face. Jasons heart drops in his stomach when he sees him, nearly at his waist.

Clark bends down to the young boy, a fond smile on his face. “Hi Robin.” He says, extending his hand. Jason shakily resigns the favor, feeling the impressive grip from the kryptonian. “H-hi Superman.” He shakily says back. A chuckle leaving from the man at his shyness.

He smiles at the fond memory, looking back at her and seeing she has the same look as before. “Wanna go meet him?” Her head whips to her father at his question. Eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “Are you kidding? That’s Superman!” She whispers. A large laugh leaving him at her statement. He lightly grabs hold of her shoulder, slowly walking her over to him. “He’s not as scary as you’d think. I was exactly like this when I met him.”

Her heart beats so loudly she is sure he can hear it even without his heightened senses. An awestruck look on her face when she gets closer. Jason walks behind her, a hand still softly planted on her shoulder.

Clarks head turns when they both walk up, a large smile on his face when he recognizes Jason. “Well if it isn’t Jason Todd.” He says, pulling the now grown up man into a hug. “Nice to see you too Clark.”

Both men pull apart and look down at her, Jason having trouble keeping a chuckle in at her face. Her eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. “And this must be that daughter of yours.” Clark chuckles, making her face erupt in red. “Nice to meet you, I’m Clark.” He says, extending his hand to her, like he did to her father all those years ago. “Y-you’re Superman.” She stammers. Making all three of the men laugh. She doesn’t even acknowledge his hand as she stares at him. “That I am.” He chuckles, finding her look of pure awe Endearing. “I-I remember seeing you fly once when I was 4. My parents said it was a fever dream.” She says, making each of the men laugh so hard they held their stomachs.

“What do you do if you’re in the middle of flying and you have to pee? Like I’m talking no holding it you gotta pee NOW?” She asks, making him laugh. “You know, I’ve been asked many questions over the years. But none like that.” “Well it’s a genuine question that I’ve had for years now. I mean it must happen at least once in your life?” He can’t help the laugh leaving him. “Alright fine, once in a while it does. And what I’ll do is find the nearest body of water, and apologize to Arthur.” He chuckles.

“What does it look like up there? Does everyone look small like ants?” She asks, face resting in her pals as she lays on the couch in her stomach. “It’s, hard to describe. And you haven’t been up in the sky before to know?” He asks, “I mean, I’ve been on top of buildings before so kind of?” She replies. “Wait so you’ve never been in the air before? Even gliding with a cape?” She sighs at his question, looking down at her hands. “I don’t have the same gear as Bruce or the robins. The closest I’ve come to is gliding with a grappling hook, but I’m more so looking in front of me rather than below.” She replies. A smile breaking on his face at her confession. “Come on then, I’ve got something I think you’ll like.”

Both of them stand outside of the manor, watching as everyone but her father walks out. “Um, what’s going on?” Tim asks, seeing Clark wrapping his arms around her. “Taking her on a trip like I did for all you kids.” Clark replies, a smile on both their faces. He looks down at her, feeling her hands gripping onto him as hard as she can. “You’ll be safe, I’ve done this for all of them.” He whispers, calming her stammering heart slightly.

“Alright you ready?” He asks. She shakes her head yes, legs slightly shaking. “Alright on 3,2,1.” He says, before she feels her heart and stomach drop as she shoots high from the ground. She can’t help the scream that erupts from her throat as she feels the wind fly around her.

She clutched onto him with her life, tears nearly escaping from her closed eyes. She feels, weightless, but a strong force surrounding her at the same time. Her heart beating wildly in her chest as her stomach catches. Feeling the shaking of her insides as she holds on tighter.

She feels him come to a stop, the force of the wind no longer astounding her. “Hey, open your eyes.” He whispers. She finally opens her eyes and moves her face from his chest, her eyes widening. She’s right above central Gotham, high above every building in sight. She looks around in sheer wonder and awe as she takes in the sight. People below her walking look so small, it’s hard to believe that she’s the same size as they are. Buildings that shed gaze up at, now look small in comparison to the skyscrapers that she's level with.

He can’t help but let out a chuckle at her expression, reminding him of her fathers exact same expression when he was young. She might not be his, but she was surely meant to be his daughter. He watched as her pupils adjust to take in all the sights. He hears her heart calm but still aratic against her chest as the adrenaline courses through her. “Wanna see a trick?” He asks, watching as her attention is now back on him. She shakes her head yes, a gleeful childlike smile on her face.

He tucks her head back into his chest as he shouts through the sky, laughing at her scream of excitement.

“And today’s top story is this photograph taken just this morning. It appears to be a set of angel wings written in the sky. Some eyewitnesses say it was work of a plane, some even say they saw the infamous Superman. While some believe it’s a sign from God. Maybe there will be some saving grace for our city after all.”

Her and Tim let out a laugh as they watch the TV, barely able to hold the bowl of popcorn between them. She falls into his side, trying to stop her wheezing breath but to no avail. He wraps his arm around her, trying to stop himself from crying.

They hear his footsteps before they see him, watching at the open door as he glares at the two. “TT” he says, before walking away. She sighs as she gets off of Tim, rubbing her temples. “I don’t get it, why is he so pissed when I’m around you? I mean doesn’t he know?” She asks, annoyance heavily laced in her words. He looks away and sighs. “Actually, no he doesn’t know. None of them do.” He admits, hearing a gasp from her. “Tim, why haven’t you told them yet? I mean no offense but, how do they not know?” “I had a girlfriend at one point. Everyone thought we were gonna be like dick and babs, they, were all shocked when we split. And since then, I haven’t dated or even mentioned anything about it.” She puts her hand on his shoulder, making him finally look at her. “Tim, this is something they should know about you.” He scoffs as he moves her hand from his shoulder, a pain shooting through her heart. “Oh yeah and how would I even bring it up? Oh hey Damian that line you drew looks pretty straight, speaking of straight, I’m not. Oh and also I’m in love with my best friend for years. They’re all emotionally constipated. You’re the closest one here who’s actually got some emotion in you.” He says, both anger and sarcasm in his tone. He feels her hug him, wrapping his arms around her. “We’ll figure something out, but only when you’re ready.”

#damian wayne x reader #older damian wayne #damian wayne fanfiction #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne smut #batman #batfam x reader #batfamily #damian wayne #Jason todd #red hood #dick grayson #Tim drake #dc #dc imagine #dceu

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francoiserenaldt · 4 years ago

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then comes the touch (then comes the rush)

or five times desirée thinks about giving the boy with the stars in his eyes her heart and the one time she realizes that he’s had it the whole time. Takes place during the second semester of senior year. Inspired by @/yoonsgiggle’s ways to show affection. for day 3 of @it-lives-week.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: a pinch of angst toward the end because it was getting a bit sweet for my liking, too much pining for an established relationship, they’re both idiots but in different ways, toxic amount of fluff

Snow litters the school grounds as she trudges through it. The school’s obsession with having no less than 5 pep rallies a quarter has her out of her bed and at school at 7 in the morning to oversee the preparations.

Luckily, she wouldn’t need to endure the torture alone. Everyone in cheer, band, swim, wrestling, and basketball all had to be there for a completely unnecessary rehearsal that only served to tire the performers and wear on everyone else’s patience.

There was one benefit to today’s assembly: Andy would be there this time.

This would be his first day back since homecoming. The first day they’d be back in school since they’d kissed in the gymnasium and the first day they’d get a chance to be together since everything went wrong.

It had felt so weird to go from seeing him every day and getting close to him being holed up in a sterile room for most of the day. The days seemed to get emptier without him; even texts couldn’t fill the void his presence left.

Misattribution of arousal, her therapist had called it.

While the implication that Desirée had confused herself was...offensive to say the least, it had at least made some sense. No way could she have been feeling low just because of some boy that she was talking to, right?

There was only one way to find out.

“Desirée!”

“Hey stranger. I’d ask how life’s treating you but…”

He barks out a laugh, gesturing to his crutches. “Yeah, I’ve been better. And you? How have things been?”

“You know, I…” She trails off.

Before she can even think about finishing her sentence, his hand is on her arm. The touch sends a rush of warmth through her body and she thanks the Lord that she opted for multiple layers today.

He’s been back all of two hours, which means she should chill, right?

Her heart doesn’t seem to get the memo.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

It’s a complete lie, of course, and definitely not what he asked. She couldn’t be further from okay when his totally normal and platonic comforting gesture is awakening things she thought she’d buried and telling her that it’s very likely that she hadn’t misattributed a damn thing, which would be great except for the fact that she’s not sure if he can say the same.

(And despite the rational part of her brain yelling at her, she wants him to say the same.)

(She’s so screwed.)

A few weeks pass after the encounter in the hallway and they find themselves back in the town square after school. They walk, or rather she walks and he limps, into the town park and find a park bench.

She quickly learns that practice had been a complete disaster; apparently being benched and injured still didn’t save Andy from microaggressions. It was interesting that they chose to focus on him when their attitudes weren’t saving them from an abysmal win-loss record, even after the strong start of the season.

In any case, he was unhappy and that couldn’t stand.

When they finally located a park bench, Andy raised an eyebrow when she didn’t sit next to him. “What are you doing?”

“Lean back.”

There’s an unmistakable déjà vu that overcomes her when her hands find their way to his shoulders.

(“Your…very toned shoulders look tense.”)

(“My very toned shoulders would love a shoulder rub.”)

His head tilts back after a minute or so–she must be doing it right this time–and...now they’re looking at each other.

A sharp chill crawls up her spine and she nearly shudders under the intensity of it. It shouldn’t be this hard to look away

There’s no telling how long it’s been or if her hands are even moving anymore.

Right. Shoulder rub.

She tears her gaze from his and puts her all into obliterating the tension in his shoulders. She vaguely notes his head going back to its original position.

“Hey.”

She nearly swallows her tongue with the force she uses to gulp any nervousness down. “Hey.”

“You good?”

“That’s my line,” she smiles gently. This is much better, the banter and the mutual flirting she’s used to. She doesn’t bother lingering on the concern in his voice. “I’m supposed to be helping you right now.”

“We can help each other,” he counters smoothly. “And you were going a little hard there.”

“Oh, sorry–”

“Don’t be. Felt good.” He tilts his head back again and grins when he finds her eyes again. “Just wanted to see where your head’s at.”

“My head is doing great, thanks. Spectacularly, in fact.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“So are you all good or…”

He clears his throat. “Yeah, I’m set. Thanks.”

Her heartbeat still thunders a mile a minute in her ears as she breathes out, “Any time.”

She reluctantly slides her hands off of his shoulders and moves –a little too quickly– to sit next to him. His arm finds its way onto her shoulders and she relaxes instantly, resting her cheek on top of his head, and she briefly imagines being able to fall asleep like this: with his arms around her shoulders, or even her waist, and his warm cheek resting on the column of her neck.

She erases the thought immediately and glances at him, finding him deep in thought as well.

A light nudge brings him back to her and she pops the question: “Where did you go?”

He chuckles, his warm breath hitting her neck and rendering her breathless yet again. This getting flustered business is the worst. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“How about the beginning?”

The comment only yields her a huff. “You’re so mean to me, you know that?”

“Yeah, right. Unfortunately for you, there’s no pool nearby to push me into this time.”

“Fountain’s gotta be close enough, right?” His arms move faster than lightning, sliding under her knees and around her waist before she could catch her breath.

“Andy Kang, don’t you dare!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The good news, she finds, is that she did not get soaked in gross fountain water and there’s no way he’s not into her. A net win, you would think.

The tradeoff for that -she can never just have nice things- is that she was into him in September. Knew she liked him in October. Now that it’s February, she maybe even l-

Oh no.

It’s not a big deal when it happens.

She’s just left a student council meeting and, if memory serves, she has a two minute window to leave the premises before one of her teachers needs help or Lucas suggests another membership drive proposal for next month’s meeting.

She’s flying down the second set of stairs –she’s down to a minute now– when she sees him.

He’s freshly showered –practice must have ran late again– and changed, his damp black hair pushed back from his face. He’s hauling ass too for some reason, barely even looking up from his phone. Maybe he won’t even see her if she runs fast enough and she can text him later–

Sure enough, he glances up and grins brilliantly when he sees her. It’s only natural that she returns it.

She closes the few feet separating them and he’s still got that sappy grin on his face when she stands next to him.

“How was practice?”

“Boring as always. Student council?”

She gives him a look. Why they even bother with words anymore is beyond her.

“Heh, heard ya loud and clear. Wanna get out of here?” He extends his hand in her direction. She feels the tip of his middle finger brush against her knuckles and her heart starts beating ridiculously fast.

She takes it in hers, a little too eagerly in hindsight, and threads her manicured fingers into his. “Gladly.”

She’ll overthink it for hours after the fact, but in the moment she just enjoys walking out of school with the boy she really, really likes.

(If she more than likes him, then he doesn’t need to know that.)

The school is weirdly energized today; students rush about, talking about weekend plans and that ridiculously hard test and other things that should not be repeated. (High school boys are gross.) Deadlines, extracurriculars, and the general dumpster fire that is life had all but killed the fight of the senior class, but not today.

Today, of course, is the first day of spring break.

The sky seems to know it’s spring break too; the near constant drizzle of rain has let up for the day and the sun tentatively peeks its head out from a slowly widening gap of clouds, adding some long overdue warmth to the afternoon air.

It doesn’t compare to the smile on his face when their eyes meet.

“Desirée!” He calls out, jogging to envelope her in a hug.

Hugging definitely isn’t a new thing for them–hell, she’s easily hugged everyone in the group at least three times by now–but the way his head makes a home in the space between her neck and shoulder feels…intimate. Cozy, even. It’s far too comforting considering that she just saw him yesterday and they’re in the middle of the hallway (she’s definitely going to hear about this later) but she can’t bring herself to pull away. Not yet.

He ends up being the one to break it, pulling away just enough to look up at her. “Hi.”

“Hi. Good day so far?”

“Better now.” He loops an arm in hers. “Wanna get lunch?”

“As long as you’re paying.”

“Take a break.”

They’re in her living room -her parents decided to come home for once and no amount of brownie points gets you ‘boys in the bedroom’ privileges- on the couch. She’s supposed to be studying for her government test, a task that Andy seems adamant on impeding her from.

“And why would I do that?”

“Because I asked you to.” The statement only produces a snort from her, and he nudges her lightly on the shoulder. “Pleeeeease? I’m bored.”

“Apologies, your Majesty King Kang, but I’m afraid I’ve misplaced my jester hat today.” She pouts in mock guilt before scoffing. “In the meantime, my government test isn’t going to ace itself.”

“Please, you could probably do this in your sleep.”

“And until I can definitely do this in my sleep, I have to keep going.”

She turns her body fully away from him for a few minutes and she finds her rhythm fairly quickly. As her brush pen draws the title of the next card, she allows herself a peek and Jesus Christ, is he pouting?

It’s childish.

It’s completely immature.

It’s...working?

Ughhhhhhhhhhh.

She shoves her flashcards into their corresponding case and slides them under the coffee table, huffing. “You are a terrible influence.”

“Yeah, but I’m a terrible influence that has your full and undivided attention.” He pecks her on the nose and grins at her unamused glare, “Now, what do you say we do something fun?”

It’s the final day of high school.

Today should be a happy day; after all, staying goodbye to early morning classes and popularity contests is what she’s been dreaming of since the day she got there.

There was just one problem: Andy wouldn’t be coming with her.

Despite the numerous hours of studying and makeup tests, there wasn’t enough time left in the school year to make up for his absences due to the medical leave he’d taken. Unless he somehow managed to pay the school for the amount of money he’d lost, he would have to sit for senior year all over again.

He’d assured her that it wouldn’t be all bad; repeating the year gives him a chance to go out for basketball captain and Tom would be there with him, but there was no amount of silver linings that could change the fact that she’d been accepted into Cornell University and would be attending in the fall.

Without him.

It’s not lost on her that she sounds absolutely pathetic. Most people could only dream of getting into an Ivy League university, let alone Cornell, and she’s considering giving all six years of relentless hard work and sleepless nights away for some boy just because she thinks she loves him.

(They both know she won’t do it. She’s lost too much and has come too far.)

They’d put this off for too long as it is.

“We’ve been apart before, right? We can do it again.”

“I just got you back, Andy. How am I supposed to be okay with losing you?”

“You won’t lose me.”

“How do you know that?”

“You won’t lose me because I love you, Desirée,” he reaches up to take her face into his hands, “That’s how.”

Her eyebrows furrow, as if she’s confused. The idea breaks his heart. “You love me?”

“Of course I do.”

“I’m such an idiot.” She pulls away, shutting her eyes and shaking her head. “This whole time I’ve been trying to pace myself and…I really screwed things up, didn’t I?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I love you, too. I didn’t want you to know until I knew you felt the same.”

“Why?”

“I’ve lost too many people as it is. If I lost you, I…” She purses her lips and looks away. “I couldn’t handle it.”

There’s no escaping the way that his lips feel on hers or the shiver that travels up her spine and honestly? She doesn’t want to.

When he speaks again, their foreheads are pressed together–she’s practically bent over at this point and can’t bring herself to care–and his hands are still holding her face as if he thinks she’ll slip away. “You will never lose me, you hear me? There is nothing that you could do that’ll change that.”

She wants to believe him, wants to believe that he’s not making a promise that he can’t keep, so she does.

She knows she’ll kick herself for waiting this long when she gets home, but at that moment she enjoys walking out of her high school for the last time with the boy she loves.

(If he knows it too, that’s even better.)

#day 3 #ship: desiree x andy #ILAweek #ilitw #mc: desiree ashton #li: andy kang #andy x mc #i hope you have a better time reading this than i had writing it jwshdbj #oh and for more angst this is in the something gained universe jdfhbrjn #also someone PLEASE take dashes and parentheses away from me #i feel like i should mention that devon isn't mentioned in this bc he's **** jndk

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misssunflowersandsangria · 4 years ago

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Crowns

Happy @naraweek my deers! I was going to wait till day 7 to post this but uh it kind of works for today's prompt too! Yay!!! I've never done one of those 5 + 1 things so I hope that you enjoy it!

A Nara's hair was a known and familiar symbol.

Prompt: Timeskip

Crowns

1- Shikaku/Yoshino

“I got you!” Shikaku announced proudly. He might be considered a genius and excellent strategist but Yoshino managed to always demand the best out of him when they sparred. Ever since they were younger she was always one of the best at evading him and managing to just escape his shadow possession. Whenever he did catch her it was cause for celebration.

Yoshino frowned, annoyed at being caught. She may not have plans to become some great shinobi like him but she always pushed him hard during training. This was to help calm her worries for when he left on missions. Knowing that he was at his absolute best, ready for anything helped quell some of the fear.

Her frown turned into a grin as she looked at him curiously.

“What?” He asked aloud seeing the change in her expression.

Her hand reached up to trail her fingers along his cheek and up to his hairline. Her nails scored across his scalp sending shivers along his spine.

“Your hair.”

“My hair?” He asked curiously, reaching up to touch at his head.

“It must have gotten caught, your ponytail is coming undone.” She explained her hands working gently to remove the tie from his hair. Midnight locks fell through her hands and around his shoulders.

Shikaku just stared as her fingers played through the strands her eyes filled with amusement.

“What’s with the fascination with my hair?”

“Don’t act surprised it's been like this since we were kids.” She’d only seen his hair down a handful of times and just like now she became enchanted by it.

The dark locks gave his sharp features a sort of softness. She knew that a Naras’ hair was a familiar and known symbol of their family. It reminded her of the antlers of the deer that they cared for. His hair was strong and healthy. Very much like its owner. It annoyed her that her own hair wasn’t as well taken care of. Perhaps when she officially became a Nara she’d learn their hair care secrets.

“I’m just not used to seeing it down. You look very handsome like this.” She shrugged but smiled at the blush across his cheeks.

He caught her hand placing kisses on her palm. “Didn't realize how much you like it. Okay, for you I’ll leave it down more often.” She grinned biting her lip wondering if he knew how sweet the gesture was. Not just anyone got to see him like this.

Her hands tangled themselves in his hair to pull him down for a kiss. The strands acting like a curtain around them.

Just another day with her Love.

2- Shikamaru & Temari

The first time Temari saw Shikamaru’s hair down she stomped off in a rush leaving him standing there perplexed. It was early morning and she’d arrived at his home with little warning or notice. He answered the door with sleep still in his eyes and his hair loose around him.

The view rendered her still and speechless causing her to forget just why she’d come by in the first place.

“What’s going on Tem?” Shikamaru asked with a yawn scratching at his scalp.

She felt her face heat up and looked away. “Uh..nothing I’ll see you later!”

He just watched confused as she ran off into the distance. He shrugged hoping that this wasn’t something he’d be punished for in the future.

Temari couldn’t believe her reaction. It was just some hair. Why did it matter that it made the already attractive Nara even more so? Just because she could easily see herself running her fingers through those loose locks wasn’t a reason to react that way.

She groaned shaking away images of sweat matted hair that fell around her as they kissed-

‘Stupid not so pineapple head ninja.’

3- Shika & Tem

“Damn it! Can’t you tie your hair up?” Temari demanded slamming her hands against the desk.

Shikamaru looked up startled, pushing the long strands back. “What? Why? Does it bother you?”

“Yes, I’m not used to it down! It’s distracting.”

“My hair is distracting?”

Realizing what she admitted she stood up and gathered her things “Ugh, never mind.” She grumbled before she wrenched the ties from her own hair and dropped them in front of him.

“I’m going to work from home today.” Shikamaru stared at her retreating form a soft grin across his lips.

The next day he found a pack of hair ties on his desk.

4- ShikaTema

Temari smiled to herself, tucking her head into Shikamaru’s neck. Soft strands of hair tickling her cheek.

“Have I ever told you that I love your hair down?” She asked curiously her hands gently brushing stray hairs from his eyes.

“Do you?” He asked with a grin.

“Yes as much as I hate to admit it. You’re annoyingly attractive on most days but when your hair is down you’re pretty irresistible.” He just grinned in response before placing a warm kiss against her forehead.

“I kind of had a feeling.” He admitted drawing her closer. His own face moving into blonde wisps.

“Really?” She asked with an amused expression.

“You could barely look at me if it was down. It was kind of fun seeing you so flustered.”

“What?”

“You didn’t notice that I was wearing it untied more often?” Temari pouted, annoyed and embarrassed that he’d noticed. The soft kiss against her shoulder shifted her thoughts.

Now that their relationship had changed she had unfettered access. She was the only one that would get to play with the strands and know the feeling of them through her fingers.

“Fine, you caught me. No more wearing it down in the village when I’m not here.” She demanded pushing a finger against his chest.

Shikamaru just chuckled, pulling her in closer. “Same for you my love.”

5- Shikadai

“Ow. Mom it hurts.”

“Well if you could do it yourself correctly then I wouldn’t have to.” Temari explained and despite what Shikadai thought she was running the brush through as gently as possible. Her son's hair was naturally very thick and easily became tangled. She had to get hair care tips from Yoshino when she found out that she was pregnant. Knowing she would have to help her son with keeping up the tradition.

Shikadai would prefer to keep it loose rather than tied up so tightly. It was boring and troublesome but he was sure that one day he’d miss having his mom brush his hair.

“You have to keep your hair neat. A Nara’s hair-“

“Is a symbol of our clan and family.” He finished with a bored expression.

“Yes but you, my little fawn, have the added title of being our prince. So your hair is like wearing a crown on your head. It represents the role you’ll one day step into as the Nara heir as well as the role you'll play in Suna. Wear it proudly son.”

5+ 1- Naras

Temari leaned her head back enjoying the warm water that cascaded through her blonde locks. Shikamaru was sitting behind her and worked the shampoo into her hair massaging her scalp as he moved. The action caused her toes to curl beneath the water.

“Mm… this feels amazing.” She sighed, sinking further into the water. Once her hair was thoroughly shampooed he began pouring the water back over. He watched as the rivulets trailed down along her neck, shoulders then down her spine. It created a golden waterfall along her back.

Like him, she rarely wore her hair down in public. Even at home it would often be tied up or pulled away from her face. When it flowed down her shoulders so gently it always did something to him.

He settled next to her in the bath before pulling her into his arms. Both of them with their hair wet and loose around them.

She’d found a silver strand amongst raven tresses the other day. It was a stark reminder that they were older now. Neither of them lamented that fact. Rather they were thankful that they were able to grow old together.

Temari’s fingers curled around a dark lock. Just as fascinated as she had been the first time she’d run her fingers through those strands.

Shikamaru gazed at her affectionately layering kisses along the crown of her head. Those precious locks tangled in his fingers.

“I love you Tem.” Her heart fluttered in a familiar beat. Through the trials and miracles of life their love endured. It would continue to do so even when all those threads turned silver.

“I love you too Shikamaru.”

Hope that you liked it! I've been obsessed with the idea of hair down Shikaku ...ugh....and also Shikamaru one day being a silver fox! :D I have one more ficlet I could use for tomorrow and I don't know I have an idea for Shikamaru's bday but I don't know that I will be able to get it out in time. Either way, thank you all for reading my sweet fawns! Love you babeys!

#naraweek #naraweek2020 #shikamaru x temari #shikatema #shikatem #shikaku/yoshino #nara clan #nara family #shikadai nara #fanfic #fluff #day 3 #timeskip #the naras have the best hair in the village #although kakshis is pretty incredible too #naruto #boruto next generation

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toysoldiers-rwby · 4 years ago

Text

[SYT] 2. the lion and her stupid knights

Show Your Teeth

Characters: May, Winter, Fiona, Robyn, Joanna Rating: Explicit (tagged as thoorist) Tags: masturbation, sexual tension, temperature play, one-sided pining, trans female character Word Count: 7,668

You don’t steal from two of Atlas’ elites and get away with it. May blows some steam and the trio returns to Mantle to find the Thief. They learn a little more about the city below.

Read on Ao3

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This wasn’t a real spar. If it was a real spar she wouldn’t have gotten those two hits in. She would be thrown to a mat every second she could breath. Instead Fiona’s eyes were unfocused, dodging her fist like she was weaving through a crowd. May might have been in more scraps but in a real fight, Fiona was their brawler.

But she was distracted and May still couldn’t win.

May threw her head back and screamed before just lounging at Fiona, “Aargh!” The Marigold had the element of surprise for half a second. Fiona gasped, her tiny body moving purely on muscle memory. May felt strong arms wrap around her before she felt the mat again.

Fiona sat atop May’s hips, blinking down at her in surprise. One, two, almost three seconds pass before a smile broke out onto her face and she threw her head back laughing.

It was a laugh she hadn’t heard in weeks. The one that caused her entire body to shake and ears to flutter and twitch. Whenever Fiona couldn’t breathe she’d get a crinkle in her nose and she’d snort for breath.

May rolled her eyes and held Fiona’s hips so she wouldn’t fall on her face. They did twitch with the urge to shove Fiona to the mat. Though… her laugh was too relaxing. Hearing it melted all the fight and frustration from the past month.

“What in the Brother’s name were you thinking?” Fiona asked wiping away a few tears.

“I wasn’t…” May grumbled with a small pout. She was content to watch… fair skin with a soft blush… Enough sweat to softly glow in the light. Both Fiona and Winter had white hair- Nope! No, no! May grunted a little, pushing Fiona off her hips and to her waist.

Fiona snorted and giggled. It took a few more seconds, more like a minute really, for the little sheep to calm down.

“Nice to see you two being productive…”

“Gah!” May jumped and nearly threw Fiona off. The little scrapper was quick to adjust and kept May’s back firmly on the floor, even if they both turned to the door. Their stupidly attractive leader watched long enough to make herself comfortable against the door frame.

“Salutations!” Fiona said with a grin. Instead of a cool professional response, smart ass comment, or critique about May’s performance there was a long almost squinting stare.

Right where May’s hands rested on Fiona’s hips. The Marigold felt her heart in her throat while Fiona took one glance at her face and giggled. A smile too innocent flashed across her face for a moment. Wicked. May was sure she was actually a wolf pretnding to be a sheep because the way Fiona turned back to Winter screamed trouble.

“What? Jealous another girl is on top your partner?”

FIONA! May tensed trying to keep the scream internal. Okay. This is almost fine. May’s heart lived her in her throat now. She’ll never be able to speak another word to Winter-

“I would be if she wasn’t so easy.”

“Bitch!” This… rude, arrogant Schnee! May tried to throw Fiona off her but failed. In four of those long strides, Winter was nearly hovering directly over May. If her gold eyes wandered below her skirt it was Winter’s stupid positioning. May glared extra hard to make it look like her face was heated from anger rather than anything else. “Say that to my face, Schnee!”

Winter and Fiona glanced at each other. May swallowed her heart back down to her chest. During her first year she was sure the white hair gave these two telepathic powers.

Sure enough they moved in sync. Fiona sliding down her waist to sit back on her hips, giving enough room for Winter’s knee-

“Ow!” May winced. Winter’s knee dropped hard between her breast and she bent down. Schnee and Marigold face to face.

“I would be jealous if you weren’t so easy.” Winter said.

And there’s goes her heart again. Hard and fast, burning in her ears and… And the blood followed the warm pressure that slide onto her hips… further down. Winter’s words, that fucking cocky voice, felt like ice burning in her viens. Her body felt hot, too hot and throbbing- Shit!

Winter instantly recognize the hint of panic. She easily picked Fiona off her hips and stood up. May quickly got up, pulling her tucked shirt completely free from her belt and skirt, hoping it would be enough to hide her the growing tent. She loosen the tie, hoping to breath easier.

“Whatever… assholes,” May grumbled and huffed, arms crossed and turned away from them. Fiona giggled when she tried to stand in front of May for a conversation, the Marigold bolted. “I call shower!”

“No fair! I won!” Fiona called out. Despite her short legs she was still faster. Not as fast as Winter but enough to give May a good sprint to the door way.

“Actually, Fiona,” Winter called out. Fiona just stopped shy of the door, letting May take over and dash out. “About Ms. Hill…” Goddess thank her sexy leader… Damnit!

The second year dorms were almost completely empty but May activated her semblance anyway. Her luck was… rather interesting today. Being straddle by two very attractive girls wasn’t necessarily bad luck. Definitely not ideal considering she lived with them and spent nearly every waking moment with them. May slammed her Scroll against the lock to their dorms and was under the shower in minutes.

May growled back pressed again the cool tiles. Water cooling her front and… and sliding down and down. She took a gasping breath, cock twitching the water slide down her head and shaft. Over a year of frequent cold rendered the method useless.

More so because it just reminded her of Winter’s skin, sometimes so cool and cold she could feel it through the thick layers of their uniform…

Especially when Winter straddles her.

When her hand pressed firmly on her chest.

A low throb in her entire body had her dick pulsing. Red and angry and fully erect and leaking. Winter was her best friend… Not a unnamed women on a street or actress. Winter Schnee was her leader and partner. Family rival…

You might be gold but you’ll always be under me.

Her fucking childhood crush.

May had a clasp tight around her mouth. Trying to stop the whimper and moans as she thought about their… fight this morning. Because they were rivals. May thought about the words and punches. Their worries because they were partners. Not… Winter’s cool weight across her hips. The angry eyes and lips so damn close-

“Fuck…” May gasp through her fingers. With her eyes closed she could replace the cold running water with Winter’s fingertips, slipping from her lips, to her throat. Every inch stroked the fire in her veins and that just pooled in her throbbing member. “Winter…” May gasp and arched. Down, and down selfish Schnee hands would go. Pressing firmly over her heart, beating so fast May’s body and cock. Every beat another drop of precum that left hot trails down her shaft.

May was on the verge of tears. Winter Schnee. Family rival. Childhood friend. Partner. Leader.

You are so easy. Winter fucking Schnee would breath into her ear. May heard herself choked on a sob and her will crumbled. Of-fucking-course she was weak under her Schnee. May’s free hand clawed a path down her abdomen, other hand barely muffling a groan.

The burning reminded her of Fiona just minutes before. The motion, the weight, of her shifting from her waist to her hips. It was everything she needed. Something on her and moving. May whined, her brain carrying the heat lower and lower. Her dick begging to be touched and leaking enough slick the shower couldn’t wash it off. Hot. Wet.

For a moment it was Fiona grinding against her and Winter toying with them both with a faux bored expression.

No… No. May gasped and opened her eyes. She couldn’t, Fi was her teammate. Sweet, kind, adorable lil’ Fiona with white fluffy hair. Fuck she shouldn’t even be thinking about Winter and her damn slender hands on her… But Schnee’s always get what they want.

“D-Damn it Schnee,” May said. Her hand finally clawing down to the corner of her hips and thighs. Winter wouldn’t be sweet and kind to her, at least never directly. Her cold hands would ignore nearly seven pleading inches, clawing and massaging the area around the base. May threw her head back. Behind closed eyes she saw that arrogant Schnee smirk. She wouldn’t beg… not even alone in the shower. Not even as- “Fuck…” as a thick stream of cool water and hot precum slid between her balls.

Winter’s light clawing changed into a firm grib around them. Blue eyes watching firm sacks twitch, completely unsempathetic to May’s whines and moans. A soft massage almost transformed the light shining in her eyes into stars. “Just… just a little more.” May whispered. She closed her eyes and suddenly Winter was pressed against her. Breast to breast, wicked mouth leaving bites May wish would stay. Winter’s laugh would ice it down before trailing lower to May’s breast. Selfish blue eyes pinned May to the shower wall. Her tongue slowly swirling around her nipple. It made May’s back arch and whine, pleasure squeezing around her heart before shooting lower. But that was just a distraction.

“Winter!” May nearly screamed as suddenly cool fingers wrapped around her head. Winter laughed again, looking up to watch May’s face twist in agony. She didn’t jerk her off right away. No, she wouldn’t be so kind to the Marigold. Instead Winter pushed the hard dick against May’s stomach and rubbed. It wasn’t suppose to be pleasurable but it had May moaning and bucking into the touch. Winter toyed with her just enough to gathering the precum on her fingers and pawm. Enough to get her partner and childhood friend crying when she pulled away. “Please, Win!”

Finally satified Winter gave a low hum. A firm suck around May’s nipple and a tight thrust down. May couldn’t barely keep her eyes open but Winter slowed down everytime she closed them for too long. So she stared down at her partner and leader, flushed in the face as her cheeks hallowed with a vicious suck on her nipple, throat and jaw flexing as Winter flicked the sensitive nub with tongue or grass it with her teeth. The Schnee played her like the violin, drawing out sounds with her mouth and hands.

Like always her control snapped. Precum slicking her hand and making every desperate hard thrust into Winter’s hand easier. Easy… Only with her Schnee. Her damned best friend with a wicked mouth and brilliant pride. May rolled her hips into each downward stroke, chasing the heat in her gut. Growing more desperate and out of control she nearly fell. Winter shift enough to catch her and moan loudly in her ear. Though the rythmic stroking around her cock she could feel how wet Winter was on her thigh. She could feel her partner panting against her chest. May grabbed Winter’s shoulder and ass, pressing her down harder on her thigh.

“M-May!” Winter moaned. Her hand faltered but it didn’t mater. May bucked her hips in time with Winter’s thrust. Fuck, feeling her wet all over, hot and grinding down on her…

Her orgasm took her by surprise. The ringing of Winter’s name and her own voice brought her out of the haze. Everywhere she imagined Winter was, her chest her thigh, felt far too warm. The useless hand hovering over May’s mouth slipped down to her chest, cold fingers rolling her heated nipples.

“Winter… damn it,” May rolled her head back, hand and hips drawing out the orgasm as much as possible. She closed her eyes again.

Skin so fair a light tussle got those breast heaving and blushing. Blue eyes that kept finding hers throughout the years. Hard and even voice, somehow warm against May’s cheek as they strolled through Mantle earlier that day. Passing a warm drink between each other, lingering touches. A rare laugh that had May’s heart trapped in somewhere beyond best friends.

Is that all you got, Marigold? Winter would taunt after she’s spent and shaking. May whimpered legs sliding out from under her. She gasp at the new cool tiles, back arching as Winter’s hand wouldn’t stop after just one release. How could she when her poor partner’s dick was still hard and throbbing?

May closed her eyes again. The hand on her chest tugging and pinching harder. Clawing bright red paths across down to her abs. Water followed and May could imagine Winter’s tongue icing down the pain. The hand around her cock was lighter, contrast making her head swim.

May whimpered as her thumb ran over the slit on her head. She jerked, oversensitive but Winter’s touches adapted, light and cool skin almost soothing. Another round May. You can do it. Her leader said. Everytime May blinked she imagined Winter’s breath fanning across her cheeks and lips brushing her ear. Her body twitched, another pass over her head made her toes curl.

May made sure to pay attention to the coil low in gut. To her surroundings and the sounds her volume but hearing her own pathetic needy whimpers didn’t help. She bite her lip as her mind continue to snip out their moments together and reconnect them for her fantasy.

Winter licking her lips. Intense eyes on her. Fuck, May. The Marigold could only whimpered. How was she gonna spar with Winter now? Good. I think that deserves a treat.

“Winter…” May moaned softly. A thumb tracing the ridge stole her breath. Fingers around her balls, massaging along the path the water and cum left… May stiffen, body boiling until it finally spilled over. She clenched her jaw tight, the light above her splitting into stars as her hands continued the soft massage on her head and sack. It was a softer orgasm but her heart still stuttered and the heat and need kept her hips rolling. She tried to keep her eyes open but they slipped close as the end, body arching off the tiles to meet the water. In her head it felt like Winter’s light kisses.

May spent the rest of her shower cleaning herself in a in a daze. She’d like to imagine Winter kissing her neck and following the scratches that had disappeared with some Aura. From… bad communication she knew Winter was a rather rough lover but did she cuddle with her one night stands or toss them out the second they were dressed? Did she save the softer stuff for the nights she spent away from their dorms-

Jealousy spiked through her. May grit her teeth scrubbing hard at her arms. Thankfully Winter’s one night stands have… completely stopped? Months before that corny but nice speech. May blinked and mused over it a few seconds before finally shutting the water off.

Due to her family name, Winter was really fucking picky with the people she’d take to bed but remembering recent years… it was a little weird. A good best friend would ask about each other’s sex, or lack of sex life right? But Winter never really asked about May’s so…

“Ah shit…” May reached for her towel but grasp empty air. She was not that desperate for release… She wasn’t that easy, stupid Schnee. May rung out her long hair as best as possible. She wasn’t sure how long she spent in the shower but hopefully no one was around to hear her scream Winter’s name, mid orgasm. May groaned into her hands. She really… did that. It wasn’t the first time she fantaized about her best friend but it was the first time she completely lost it and screamed.

May peek her head out of the shower room and looked around their bathroom. Clear. The toiler room was empty too.

“Hello! Anyone home, I forgot my towel again!” May yelled through the door. Hearing nothing, May slid the door enough to poke her head through.

Fiona’s pajamas was still tossed onto her bed. May’s new scarf was dangling on her bed above Winter’s bunk. A small assortment of random crap was scattered on last unoccupied bed.

“Thank the Goddess for small miracles,” May mumbled stepped into their shared living space. Unfortunately her miracles seemed to be rather short. May only managed to wrap her hair in a towel before their door hissed open. May yelped, a blue translucent wall of Aura hiding her from her mildly shocked teammates.

Winter might have been the first to recover but Fiona was louder. Stupid brat brought her fingers to her lips and whistled. “Whoo! Come on May, show us that gold!” Stupid… May grit her teeth, tempted to throw her towl at Fiona’s dumb grin.

But an… odd look flickered over Winter’s face. May’s foggy post orgasm brain only told her it wasn’t disgust.

So on a whim May quickly slipped some boyshorts on and pulled the towel to drape tastefully- she double checked, over her shoulders and chest. May had enough reason and blood the right head to release she probably shouldn’t do this. But the high was just desperate to see any flush across Winter’s cheeks. May dropped her Invisibility Field.

Fiona yelped, eyes quickly darting from May’s chest up to her smirk, down to her developing abs thought it could have gotten stuck on her chest for a split second. Winter’s eyes locked onto May’s gold ones, so quick it looked a little panicked.

“I- I was joking!” Fiona turned a brilliant shade of red and she dived onto the nearest bed with her hands over her face. Winter’s bed.

May laughed a little, watching Winter observe her perfectly made bed become undone by a flailing sheep. The laugh caught in her throat a little when those cool eyes cut back to her.

Of course Winter smirked, not backing down from a challenge. “Nothing I haven’t seen-”

“Or fucked,” May added quickly.

“B-before,” The words were already coming out of her mouth but the Schnee wasn’t prepared for the very true addition. With a sigh and a huff she turned to her bed, slapping Fiona’s feet off her bed and dropping down next to her. May counted that as a victory and her heart did little flips.

“Oh my god… If I end up… doing anything- Anything weird in my sleep it’s because of you two!”

Winter and May exchange a glance and sneered. “We’re honored,” May drawled. She laughed when Fiona threw a pillow at her face.

“Aren’t you sweaty and gross?” Winter asked with a frown. “Stop rolling around my bed and shower.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Fiona said with a little breathless note. Another pillow was launched at Winter. May laughed, watching blushing ears flick back towards her even if Fiona kept her head turned away. The tiny huntress flipped her off before locking the shower room door behind her.

May turned around. Drying chest of the droplets that fell from her wet hair before slipping on a shirt-

“And bra. We’re heading back to Mantle,” Winter said.

May groaned and threw her sleeping shirt onto her bunk, “Why? I thought we were gonna call that Hill girl.”

“Small adjustment. Silvio Watts tried to find the thief on the cameras.”

That caught May’s attention. She fasten the front clip of her bra and was about to turn around when she realized… she was in front of the dressers. Which had a large mirror attached to them. When May checked Winter’s reflection she nearly screamed.

The women was not on her bed like she expected but directly behind her. Winter rolled her eyes and wrapped the a fresh towel around May’s hair, trying to squeeze as much water out without ruffling and damaging it.

“Honestly you two…” Winter said with mild annoyance laced with more amusement.

“You’re whiter and quieter than a ghost! You’re lucky I didn’t drop dead!” May said. Her heart felt ready to give out for all the things it went through today. Mostly the two orgasms. The Marigold playfully shoved the Schnee. Winter barely budged. It wasn’t fair, a feminine body every magazine want with the muscles every soldier dreams of. May sat on the dresser and talked to the Winter’s reflections. “Sorry, back to using a teenager for illegal bullshit.”

“He contacted me and as Dr. Watt’s assistant he does have clearance to-”

“Gray legal bullshit,” May rolled her eyes and grabbed her brush. She ignored the white strands of hair in it and shoved it into Winter’s hand. She didn’t even scoff. May doubt Winter was actually aware she started to comb her hair. It was one of their habits they carried into Atlas Academy. “The thief? Silvio found them?”

“No.” Winter frowned. May carefully watched her. Winter acts like a cool heartless Schnee but her anger melted through that carefully built image. May loved Winter’s habit of licking her lips before they pulled down in a frown. “He couldn’t even find us. It was a sloppy cut but enough to completely hide them.”

“That’s… bad,” May said with her breath catching when those cool fingers dragged a little too long on her skull, brushing down the back of her neck. May almost missed the quirk of Winter’s lips and the frown seemed to deepen as to compensate for it.

“Fiona thinks it would be a good chance to get to know Hill while we look for clues. She is a local to the area…” Winter mumbled. Instead of going for the usual wrap, Winter started to braid May’s hair. It was a loose braid and quick thanks to all the years practicing on Weiss’ hair. “Please, if you insist on keep your hair long, take better care for it.”

“Why? I got you around to do it for me.”

“Will I be around?” Winter asked. It was a simple question, in a flat tone but the look Winter’s reflection gave her was… loud and heavy. May turned around just as Winter finished, but the Schnee had closed her eyes and undid her the pin keeping that tight bun under control.

Without any prompting the two adjusted. Winter settled to stand with her back against the dresser and between May’s legs. May didn’t grab the Schnee’s brush just yet. Instead she ran her hands through silky white hair, finding more pins and general massaging her scalp.

Winter fought it at first, like alway. Then gradually gave in, like always. The sigh was… far too breathily for post orgasm May. Right now she loved her refectory period. They continued in silence for a few moments. May just admiring Winter’s hair and how it felt like feathers through the thin layer of Aura. Then a moan slipped from Winter, May froze. Her hands had wandered a little lower than usual, working at the tense muscles in Winter’s neck.

“Sorry-”

“For stopping,” Winter cut playfully. Such a Schnee. May snorted and her hands worked with more confidence. Thankfully Winter controlled her reaction a little better but couldn’t completely relax. May leaned to the side a little and Winter turned to meet her questioning gaze. “Ironwood is heavily against Hill,” Winter explained.

When the trio returned to the Academy, Winter managed to get a meeting with the General. Fiona and May killed time with a small sparring match to work out the day’s frustration.

May closed her eyes. She took a deep breath to slip into work mode. No horny thoughts… no horny thoughts. Don’t think about how nice Winter feels and how easy it would be to kiss her during this routine every morning and night. Just… be natural.

“Then what’s the point?” May finally asked when she composed herself. Her hands were back in Winter’s hair, checking for any knots before grabbing Winter’s brush and working it through her hair.

“Because against isn’t flat out rejection.” Winter said. “And Fiona picked her… It’s her consequence to face, as her friend I can only help her if she falls.”

“Goddess,” May snorted and sneered. “Do you hear how corny you are sometimes? Like those knights in the books we used to read.”

“You love it, princess.”

“Ugh!” A hot blush quickly settled across May’s face. “Braid your own hair, you brat!”

Winter laughed softly. It was deeper than normal, like the laugh during their walk around Mantle. That alone kept May seated but Winter adjusted her position to block her in. May also noted it their bodies were were nearly pressed together. Nearly against May’s bra covered torso. No horny thoughts, no horny thoughts about your best friend.

“I braided yours, you owe me.”

“I knew you could never trust a Schnee with a freebie,” May said with a theatrical sigh. Winter threw her a smirk. It almost slipped into a smile when May’s fingers combed through her hair and massaged her scalp again. “Any style you want for thief hunting?”

“Loose. The bun gave me a small headache.”

“I notice,” May sneered. She deliberately pushed her fingers deep into the base of Winter’s skull. And… May licked her lips. Whatever higher power decided to torture her today made Winter’s reaction worth it.

A hot flush quickly spread across her face, eyes rolling back as a moan slipped from those lips. She could feel Winter’s body shiver as her legs nearly gave out. May’s hands stilled enough for Winter to recover. Blue eyes fluttered open. A little dazed. Still there was enough conscious though for a glare and haughty pout.

May was too surprised for impure thoughts. For once May didn’t know what to do with Winter. Like the Schnee she was, her blue eyes demanded… something.

“I… I’ll promise to give you a proper massage later?” May mumbled. Her voice was higher than she’d like, possibly shaking even.

Winter blinked one, twice and slowly she was back to normal. Meaning all the touches- er, massages May had slipped in was meaningless.

“Hm… a suitable apology,” Winter said. Maybe she wasn’t back to normal because her voice was… off. Slow and slurred with something heated.

Their usual routine continued in silence, awkwardly comfortable as the massages left Winter unusually docile yet intense while May’s post orgasm mind was still a little numb. Thankfully it was short, Fiona’s dripping curls and blushing face poked out from the bathroom.

“Um… I forgot my towel and clothes,” Fiona said a little meekly. May finished the braid so Winter could walk off and handed Fiona her towel. Fiona frowned blinking up at her leader. “You okay?”

“Stressed.”

Fiona pouted and slipped out of the bathroom as soon as the towel was secure around the small form. Don’t test the refractory period, no honry thoughts. Thankfully Fiona’s smart ass distracted May, “That excuse works with me because I’m normal. You’re always stressed,” She said. May snorted and laughed. She tried to choke it down when Winter whipped a glare at her.

“Get dressed. We’re meeting Hill and Greenleaf within the hour.”

“Bad deflect but alright,” Fiona said slipping past Winter with a worried look to grab some clothes from her drawer. “Your family name won’t stop you from getting a cold and we’re heading down at night.”

“I’ll be sure to glare extra hard into the empty air,” Winter deadpanned. Fiona and May shared a glance and giggled.

Fiona wasn’t that fussy about what the elites wore this time. Possibly because it was that fucking cold. May huddled into several layers shoved her gloved hands deeper into her pockets. Winter glanced at her and adjusted the red scarf she bought earlier.

“I’ll get you a thicker one later,” Winter said.

“Don’t bother. I’m never coming down here again,” May grumbled. Then glared at her partner. “How aren’t you freezing?”

“Maybe there’s something in a name after all-”

“Ow!” Winter and May, but mostly May, yelped when Fiona kicked them into each other. “Fi, what the hell!” May complained, rubbing her face. It wasn’t a collision kiss like in the movies, fuck it wasn’t a kiss it was a damn headbutt. No wonder Winter was so stubborn, her skull was thicker than steel.

“The sooner you two stop complaining the sooner we’ll reach Robyn and Joanna’s place!” Fiona said. She was buddle up just as much as May. Her damp hair and ears weren’t ideal in this temperature even with their protective Aura. Fiona shivered, holding herself tightly.

With a small apologetic look Winter tugged a little on the red scarf. May frowned and pouted for a second, trying to savior the warmth as long as possible. Then she nodded. The Schnee took the scarf and wrapped Fiona’s head with it, being careful with the ears. May shivered at the cold wind but it was worth Fiona’s happy smile as she snuggled, nice and warm.

Mantle was very different at night. Without the sun and crowds of people, the wind felt especially sharp. It reminded May of those old horror films and it caused the hair on the back of her neck to rise like she was a kid watching them too. At the very least they weren’t the only one on the streets but the Faunus bystanders did give them a weary glance.

A few minutes of walking and… they reached an abandoned building. Fiona frowned and double checked the address Robyn sent and several GPS apps. Everything matched up.

“We are not taking in a squatter,” Winter scowled, arms crossed.

“No…” Fiona ignored the comment. Loosen the scarf warming her ears, letting them flick around in alarm. May and Winter toss each other worried glances. “This isn’t right…” Fiona mumbled.

The sheep video called Robyn who answered near immediately. Sure enough the background didn’t match the apartment in front of them. There was light and it looked warm from the tank top Robyn was wearing, the wallpaper had seen better days but it wasn’t a dark abandoned building

“Uh… we might be lost,” Fiona told her.

“No shit, that’s one of the worst parts of the sector, lambchop.” Robyn said quickly. May scowled at the nickname but… upon a closer look around it felt a little more accurate. It almost did feel like she’d be eaten, with the way the old street lights flickered and shadows crawled under the moonlight. “Why are you there and why are you still standing around?”

“We’re huntresses,” May scoffed, “We can handle some people-”

“No, liontail!” The rising urgency in Robyn’s voice and actions raised alarms. Off screen Joanna called her name and tossed her a shirt and coat. Fiona passed the Scroll to Winter, her sharp Faunus eyes looking down every dark alleyway around them. “It’s Grimm. A Giest has been in that area for weeks now.”

May stood next to Winter now. That wasn’t right. They would have heard about it, the news and media would be all over a scandal like this.

“Weeks?” Winter scowled. She glared at the screen as Robyn mounted a crossbow to her wrist. “There’s no way General Ironwood would allow-”

“Giest, snowflake.” Robyn repeated. “Without proof the police can’t file a claim for the military to investigate and soldier’s only check what’s on their radar.”

“Our defenses should have-” Winter tried again but this time Fiona gently interrupted her.

“She’s right,” Fiona said. She looked back up at the elites with begging eyes and lowered ears. Scared and begging, May both loved and hate that look. “Grimm slip past sometimes and… and the system is slow.”

May and Winter looked at each other. Conflict and disbelieve slowly growing into caution and alarm. Robyn was a rude ass stranger. Fiona was their teammate. With a firm nod they looked at Fiona for her lead.

“Mantle is your home,” Winter said.

Fiona looked a little startled but nodded. “Winter, get us to higher ground.”

“Understood.” With a flick of her wrist Winter summoned her white Glyphs on a nearby, sturdier, building. May was the first, running up the walls and ignoring her burning limbs. Maybe two orgasms after a spar and a day of wandering Mantle wasn’t a good idea.

May’s eyes might be yellow but they lacked a cat’s night vision. Still she did her best to scan the area for the Giest as her team ran up the Glyph path. Winter was next and Fiona was last.

The trio regrouped around their leader and the Scroll, “Well… now’s a good time to show us what your made of Hill,” Fiona mumbled.

“Oh, I’ll do more than show, lambchop,” Robyn said with a grin that showed a little too much teeth brandishing the sharp wings of her wrist mounted crossbow. May made a noise of disgust and ended the call, making Fiona sputter in some surprise.

“That’s rude!”

“Her flirting is gross. I don’t like her.” May said with her arms crossed.

Fiona sighed and stood her ground. Her eyes just shy from glaring back. “I think I realized why I never got laid. You two scare everyone away.”

“Don’t fuck weak cowards,” May said, “Problem solved.”

“By the Brothers…” Fiona smiled and rolled her eyes. “You know, technically Robyn meets those requirements.”

“What requirements?”

“Ah!” Fiona screamed and May screamed because Fiona screamed. Winter barely jumped. She turned around, hands reaching for the hilts of her rapiers but only grasped air. Joanna and Robyn blinked in surprised, the pair holding up their hands.

“Woah, there lamb… Fiona.” Robyn said.

May glance and did a double take at Fiona. The nice thing about Absorption Matter was that Fiona was never unarmed but the military issued shotgun was a little surprising. Fiona took a deep breath and lowered it.

“Don’t scare me! How did you two find us so fast.”

“… Winter sent us your location and we actually live nearby.”

“I did no such thing.” Winter scowled. They all compared Scrolls… Sure enough the address was sent to Robyn and Joanna, from her phone.

“Guys… I’m started to get creeped out here!” Fiona admitted. She huddled to the nearest person, May. May sighed and threw an arm around her. “The Faunus always die first in the movies!”

“This isn’t a movie,” May mumbled. She tried to comfort Fiona by rubbing her arm. There was one other possibility. May gave Winter a firm frown, “That Watt’s kid isn’t fucking with us, is he?”

Winter blinked, the most surprise expression she’d make in front of strangers. She looked at her Scroll with a frown, “I don’t… believe so. He was rather upset when he couldn’t find the thief.”

“Does it matter now?” Robyn asked. The annoyance caught their attention and there was a sense of urgency coming from the two Mantle Rats. Joanna was on high alert, grip firm around the crossbow staff. The arrogant flirt from the Gym was gone. Robyn checked her crossbow once more and with a flex of her hand it loaded a bolt from the tail. May liked this angry professional Robyn a lot more. “We got three almost fully fledged huntresses here. We can finally do something about the Giest.”

“So we bait it,” Fiona agreed. She pushed the women comforting her forward, “Thank you for volunteering, Marigold!”

“What! Why me?!” May said. She stumbled a few steps, legs still a little weak from her orgasm not even an hour ago.

“Because you’re not exactly the happiest person here,” Fiona reasoned. Winter laughed softly. She tried to hide it with behind a fight and a caught but the blush gave her away. It deepened a little when Robyn and Joanna sneered. “Plus you have the highest chance of getting away with your semblance and Winter.”

“And Winter what?” May said.

“Nothing. You have Winter,” Fiona said with shrug. Winter smirked and raised a brow, looking down at her through long lashes. May scowled up at her stupid face. She wished she consider being shorter than Winter a downside to the hormones.

“Don’t worry princess,” The Schnee taunted the Marigold, “I got your back.”

“Fuck you.” The words spilled from May’s mouth out of habit, just as she remembered screaming Winter’s name in the shower. She glared even harder, trying to pass her blush off as something else.

“Is that a promise?”

“Ugh!” May threw up her hands and walked off before her angry composure could completely break. “There’s no winning with you Schnees.”

“Define winning!” Robyn yelled after her with a laugh. May could barely pretend to be mad. She did flip off the Hill girl and her partner before dropping back down to the streets. She walked aimlessly down the roads, taking random turns and relaxed every time she heard Winter’s Glyphs fling her from roof to roof.

Grimm is attracted to negative emotions. May crossed her arms thought back to some of the worst moments in life… which was very difficult post orgasm. Her mind kept wandering back to Winter. Strong shoulders, delicate neck, up and up… slender jaw… an arrogant smirk with full lips…

You’re so easy.

Ugh! Some best friend she was! May growled at herself. What would Winter think if she knew… Scratch that. Winter gets compliments every time she’s off military grounds. She’s an arrogant Schnee. It’d only inflate her ego more. May could hear the conversation now. Some bullshit about how it was natural, they spent so much time together, saved each other on a few missions, blah, blah, some grown up adult shit she’d have rehearsed for Weiss because her parents where ABOSLUTE FUCKS!

A roar echoed around her.

May opened calmly opened her eyes as black blacks tore down an alley. She dodged the thrown tire and chunks of metal. The Giest was surprisingly small, creepily humanoid but made of many broken bits of concrete and wires. May stepped back, years of practice and just time spent with Winter making the next moments predictable. A Time Dilated Schnee dashes in, saber cutting deep across fabric…

May’s eyes widen, as the sword glided across the foreign robes. Not through, not in, across sparking like it met another blade. May grabbed Winter and jumped back, Invisibility Field hiding them from the Geist’s counterattack.

“Okay…” May pulled out her Scroll and started up a group call. Winter hit the ignore button on hers but everyone else answered.

“What was that?” Joanna asked first.

“The robes the Giest is wearing is from Mistral. Sometimes they have wire woven into it,” Winter answered. Apparently she spoke too loud because the Giest roared again and swiped an arm of broken concrete and metal at them. Winter picked May up and easily dodged with a Glyph boosting her jump.

“Don’t they also like to weave Dust into their clothes?” May asked.

“I know one way to find out,” Winter said.

May smirked and they both ignored the Scroll and Fiona groaning. May concentrated for a second, focusing so the Invisibility Field stayed while she ran out and screamed at the Giest. Like usual it works and the Grimm roared and followed the bait.

“Uh… please tell me that’s a regular thing they do.” Joanna mumbled.

“I hate it!” Fiona yelled. May laughed and dodged, baiting the Giest closer and closer to her partner. “They always do their own thing, mid fight! I mean… it works. Stupidly well. But we are a team!”

May rolled her eyes. With snap of her fingers the Invisibility Field dropped to reveal a bright Glyph that shot Winter forward. She ducked beneath a hand, saber plunging deep into the gaps of metal and stopped as when it reached the robe. With Winter’s hand on it the fabric, her Aura activated the Dust. May could see it glow two colors. A rich and deep purple for Gravity and a vibrant scorching red for Fire.

Winter jumped back, picking up May again and retreating under the Field and with Glyphs helping them clear swiping claws.

“Y’know… for an angry gal you sure are docile,” Robyn muttered. She sounded like she was just lounging around watching a show.

“Shut up,” Both the elites growled.

“That’s no way to speak to your future teammate,” Robyn chided. “Especially one that can blow it up right now.”

“We can’t,” Winter said. Her tone was far too serious to argue with so everyone stayed quiet so she could explain. “The Dust… it’s far more potent than anything I’ve felt. You could take out the block.”

“And if I used a gravity bolt? That gonna summon a black hole?”

“That’s not how it works,” Winter sighed.

“Good! So I can do it then.”

“Hill, don’t-” A bolt flew into the Field, glowing bright purple and deep into the ground right at Winter’s feet. “Shit.” The angry Grimm was pulled to the bolt, right at Winter and May. To the others they could only see half of the Grimm until May dropped her semblance. Then they saw it’s other arm swinging, just a few feet from the elites.

“Haha… woops. Didn’t see ya’ there, liontail.” Robyn mumbled.

“That was the point!” May screamed into her Scroll. She clutched Winter tight as she tried running as fast as possible. Between dodging giant debris arms they didn’t get far.

“Bolster your Aura! I have Elm’s rocket launcher!”

“When did you steal that?!”

“Don’t!” Winter tried yelling for the second time. Like before it ignored. Winter couched down, holding May tight to her chest as the rocket flew past them and into the Grimm. The explosion launched them both into the air.

Like always the knight took most of the blast and most of the fall. May held on tight, focusing on her Aura as she could feel the flames, chunks of asphalt and metal chip away at it.

As soon as their skid and roll slowed down enough, Winter maneuvered to cover her partner. Standing before May, an Aura enhanced Saber slicing through smoke and catching some larger chunks of rocks. When it finally cleared there was a small crater and a broken fire hydrant trying to fill it up. The nearby building had shattered windows, a power line fell taking down the lights… Ashes of Grimm was fading… and the clothes that withstood Winter’s strikes were nowhere to be seen-

“The left! Across the street!” May yelled, a slip of glowing purple disappearing into the alley. From the rooftops Joanna jumped down. May and Winter sprinted as fast as possible but the day was wearing on the Marigold’s endurance.

She arrived just in time to see Joanna thrown back into Winter and the glowing robes disappearing around the corner.

“Shit, sorry guys!” Fiona said through the Scroll. “Um… I forgot how strong Elm is. The rocket launcher threw me back and I didn’t get a look at them.”

“We should leave,” Robyn said next. May helped Joanna up, more like held her huge ass arms as the giant women got up herself, and then helped Winter. “My place isn’t too far. You can spend the night or wait till the police cool off.” And being cue in the movies the sirens started to go off in the distance.

The police and even a few military huntsmen quickly arrived. Joanna and Robyn came up with several impressive escape routes but stopped their planning when they saw May’s hands glowing. They finally noticed the Aura that domed tightly around them.

“Oh yeah…” Robyn mumbled.

“Oh yeah,” May repeated with a sarcastic flare. She glowered hard at her, “You nearly shot us!”

Robyn didn’t blush, didn’t look away. Somehow the older women looked guilty and apologetic without trying to run from the consequences. “I’m sorry. I was just worried that Giest was going to slip away and hurt someone else again.” Robyn paused, waiting for the elites to comment. She endured their hard and intense stares and continued, “I should have let you two handle it.” That… wasn’t what May was expecting.

“I want a bed.” May demanded. She was too tired to return to Atlas and no one disagreed, at least verbally. May saw Winter frowned a little but stayed silent.

That arrogant smirk returned and with the soft lighting from the moon, that platinum blonde hair looked white. “I can give you that and a little more-” Winter stepped in front of her, body tense and knuckles pale around the hilt of the borrowed saber. That smooth smile didn’t break. In fact Robyn’s lavender eyes seem to shine a little brighter, “My bed’s pretty big if you want to invite yourself, snow angel.”

Winter shook for a moment. Visibly angry until May’s hand rested on her shoulder. Her arm slacken, worried eyes meeting May’s gold ones and the tension quickly melted from her body. The Schnee took a deep breath, “Very well. I’ll take your offer.”

Robyn’s smirk immediately fell into shock, “Wait… what?” May sneered and Fiona giggled. Joanna patted her roommate out of it, “But… um.” She gave a confused glance between May and Winter, “… but.”

“I want food too!” Fiona chirped in, hand raised to help draw attention to her small form. “Something nice and warm!”

Joanna lead the way back while Robyn was trying to recover with grace. It was only a few blocks and with rooftops within jumping distance or a makeshift bridge, they were there within minutes. Joanna listed off all the leftover in their fridge and some late night food trucks. Oddly… when they arrived at Robyn’s apartment door there was a box of food and a small spool of… string? Winter touched it, and it glowed a warm red at her Aura. They nearly missed well penned note.

‘Thanks for the charity money and getting my robes back, angeldust. Here’s some fire Dust to keep the cute ones warm. Xoxox - Thief’

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tendertenebrosity · 4 years ago

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Part 3. Part 1 and 2. Masterlist to come.

This is my revised opening for the Illiam and Helis pieces. New readers, start at part 1 up there! Old readers, hope you like this version as much or better than the first.

@castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @iwhumpyou, @doglover82; @top-hat-aye; @burtlederp; @just-a-raccoon-with-wifi

Helis whimpered as they were thrown against the ground, the impact jarring their teeth together and sending shooting pains through their awkwardly folded wing. Their fear had receded over the course of the night into something colder, number, blotted out by the immediacy of Helis’ pain. They had been carried for hours through dark forest and countryside, thrown unceremoniously and painfully over shoulders, passed between rough, uncaring hands. They hurt.

Their limbs were squashed awkwardly against their body under the winding layers of netting, room to wriggle slightly but no more than that. Between the strands, their cheek was pressed now against packed dirt and leaf litter. They squirmed a little - their neck was twisted uncomfortably, but in the thin light of morning they could see where they were.

They were in a clearing, a wide swathe of cleared ground; from this position they could see trees, a patch of sky that was beginning to bleed pale grey and gold, the edges of a few sturdy canvas tents… and a small crowd of legs and boots. Some looked like soldiers, others more like nobles - but all the people they could see were in heavy material, furs and velvets and leather, and had matching harsh accents.

But what are they doing here? Helis thought desperately. There were not supposed to be Toraldan soldiers here, or Toraldan nobles. The border was miles away. Helis and Reed had only been away from home for a few weeks, how had things changed that fast?

They reached for power, almost instinctively, and were denied. The place where magic usually rested below their breastbone was empty. The dozens, maybe hundreds, of silver threads within the netting were a negligible amount individually but combined they were enough to render Helis’ magic useless. As useless as their hands, as useless as their wings, battered and crushed against their back and sides.

The voices Helis could hear were irritable, subdued; a few picked up with interest as, with a thump, Reed was dropped unceremoniously beside Helis on the ground.

He looked dazed; one side of his face was covered in blood. “Helis, thank God,” he gasped, his eyes lighting despite the bruising that swelled one almost shut. “Are you -”

“No talking,” the soldier that had dropped Reed snapped, and kicked Reed in the stomach, making him double up with a choking noise.

Helis bit back their response, wincing. The soldier grabbed Reed roughly and pulled him up onto his knees; unlike Helis, he was bound at wrists and ankles, hands behind his back. He wheezed as he was held in position, curly head bowed.

“What am I looking at, Captain?”

A voice cut through the babble, deep and commanding, and all the other voices dropped away respectfully. Helis lifted their head and couldn’t see the speaker; but they could see the surrounding people falling back to leave Helis, Reed and the soldiers alone in a wide semicircle.

The soldiers saluted. “Spies, your grace,” the one out of sight behind Helis said. “From the Southern Cities, based on what we found on them. They were lying low, trying to slip past our lines.”

Lying low? Helis thought, incredulous. We were camped where anybody could see us! We’re wearing Crestmead state uniforms!

“That isn’t -” they protested - and cut off with a cry as the soldier directed a kick at their side. Between the net and their cramped, awkward wings, he didn’t reach their stomach like he’d probably been aiming for, but his boot still hurt. They tangled their fingers in the strands of rope, hopelessly, miserably.

“This one has magic, your grace,” the captain continued. “Slippery creature.”

“Yes, I see the silver.” If Helis propped themselves up on one elbow and lifted their head further, so far their neck ached, they could just see the figure of the man people kept calling ‘your grace’. As they watched, he walked further into their field of vision, and dropped to sit in a chair that had been placed for him. His hair and short beard were dark, with generous wings of grey, and he wore a dark fur cloak over rich clothes. He leaned back in the chair with easy confidence, and his voice was coloured with amusement for a moment. “Formal magic training for a messenger beast. Now we know they’re from the South, don’t we?”

A ripple of laughter passed through the crowd, loud and harsh. Helis shrank within their bonds, biting their lip and squeezing their eyes shut to keep tears behind them. No. No, no, this couldn’t be happening. We’re prisoners and nobody knows we’ve been captured. Will they negotiate with Crestmead, try to ransom Reed back? Not if they think he’s a spy. And definitely not for me. Not for the wildborn, the beast, the creature.

“We are not spies,” they heard Reed say, his voice slightly hoarse but strong. “We are Crestmead representatives here with a legitimate purpose, which is more than I can say for - ” He cut off with a hiss of pain.

Helis bit back a hitching breath that was almost a sob and opened their eyes. Reed was right in front of their swimming vision, head hanging, only the hand of the soldier behind him keeping him upright.

“I want to know how Crestmead knew to send him,” the commanding man on the throne said, as Helis blinked and tried to focus. “See what you can get today. If the spy seems like he’ll be of use, we can take him back with us.” A pause, and then an afterthought: “Get rid of the creature once you’re done, though. Thing like that’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

Get rid of the creature. Those words should have hit them harder, but they felt almost numb again, frozen with terror.

“Your grace! One moment!”

The voice came from behind Helis’ back, cutting effortlessly through the murmurs of the crowd. The man on the throne looked up, over Helis and Reed, and raised an eyebrow. He lifted one hand and made a casual gesture, as if giving permission for the speaker to approach.

Helis shifted and twisted their neck in the other direction, not sure why they were bothering to do it. What were the chances this interruption would mean anything but a brief delay? I’m going to die. I’m going to die, and everything hurts, and what’s the point in hurting myself more? But the voice had tugged on something at the back of Helis’ memory.

They couldn’t see far; with their neck aching and their nose just skimming the dirt, they could see a pair of high black boots approaching. A black cloak swirled behind the boots as their wearer stopped a few feet away from Helis and bowed. And Helis blinked, distracted from their terror for a moment because those boots, too, were… familiar.

“May I ask you a favour, your grace?”

The newcomer’s voice was cool, calm. Where did Helis know him from? Why was there a note of assurance in his tone, even as he interrupted this obviously important person?

The man on the throne snorted, propped his bearded chin on one hand. “You may. What is it you want?”

The figure stepped closer, nudged at Helis’ shoulder with one of the black boots, and flipped them over onto their back.

It had been four years, but he hadn’t changed much. A sword on his hip and winter clothing like he’d rarely had cause to wear in Crestmead, but still, all in black. Black hair, grown long enough to pull back in a tail; ice-blue eyes with shadows under them, a nose chapped red with cold, and a familiar sneer.

Illiam regarded Helis for a long moment, his mouth tight with distaste. Then he lifted his gaze up to address the man on the throne over the top of them, his voice ringing over the crowd.

“Can I have this one?”

#Illiam #Helis #Illiam and Helis redux #whump drabble #public humiliation whump #winged whumpee #wing whump #fantasy racism #it as a pronoun #tw violence #possessiveness tw #dehumanisation whump

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keelywolfe · 5 years ago

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FIC: Not What It’s Cracked Up To Be ch.4 (baon)

Summary: Edge and Stretch are finally getting back on an even keel. Edge’s broken leg is healing well, Spring is finally here and the flowers are close to blooming.

Be a shame if anything disturbed their domestic bliss.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Fluff, Chickens, Depression

Notes: As a heads up, this chapter includes a depiction of depression.

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

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Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Despite the night of broken sleep, Edge was up at his usual hour the next day, waking before his alarm could blare. He turned it off and slipped out of bed as quietly as he could, tucking the comfortably warm blankets around his still-sleeping husband.

He paused for a moment, looking at Stretch’s unguarded face. Last night they’d stayed in the shower together until their generous hot water tank gave up and the spray turned cold. By the time they were dry and in new pajamas, Edge was trembling with the effort of keeping them both on their feet, guiding Stretch to their bed and tucking him beneath the covers before joining him. They’d lain together in silence for some time, holding each other close before falling into what was for Edge a restless sleep.

In the dawn light creeping around the sides of the curtains, Stretch looked drained even in sleep. Stains of deep orange were shadowed beneath his closed sockets and his face was drawn tight against whatever dreams came. Much as it pained him, Edge left him to rest, heading to their closet to dress hastily and when he left, he carefully closed the bedroom door behind him.

Travel down the stairs was cautious but despite Edge’s sockets feeling gritty with exhaustion, his leg felt fine. He may as well be grateful for small favors, he supposed. The sun was cresting the horizon and he had things to do today.

In the backyard, the soft shoes he was currently forced to wear left the outline footprints in the damp grass as he walked over to the shed. Inside, the walls were lined with gardening tools. Bags of potting soil were stacked in a corner alongside mulch and fertilizer, everything carefully organized and in its place. On a wide shelf in one of the back corners he found what he was looking for; a long roll of landscape edging that he’d planned to use for a new garden bed. For now, it was getting called in for another use and he carried it out along with a hand trowel over to the fenced in area around the chicken run.

He could already hear Noodle and Dumpling caterwauling inside the coop. The sound of the patio door opening in the morning usually meant food and they were complaining loudly about their little door being closed. He left them for now, unwilling to be distracted from his task.

The chicken wire surrounding the run was already secured to the ground and now he simply needed to make sure that the soil itself couldn’t be dug out to make an entrance. This would be a temporary solution, as would locking the coop completely at night, but he wasn’t about to risk their remaining flock until the fox situation was taken care of.

It would have been faster with a regular shovel, another frustration cause by his injury, but the hand trowel worked well enough in the muddy dirt. He dug a trench along the fence-line, working until it was deep enough, then he set the edging into it. Five inches of hard plastic would be a decent deterrent against digging until he could come up with something better. He took special care in the place where a hole already existed, filling the hole up with a bitter satisfaction that made his soul feel as if it were smoldering. By the time it was properly buried and fastening to the chicken wire, he was muddy and weary, taking in the scene with grim satisfaction.

When he climbed to his feet again, his leg threatened to buckle under his weight and Edge staggered, cursing silently. He’d stupidly left his cane in the house along with his cell phone and the very thought of having to shout for help until either the neighbors investigated or Stretch woke up was humiliating enough for him to be very careful as he caught his balance. No matter, he was almost finished. He opened the fence door and went to the coop, finally unlocking the entrances, both big and small.

The chickens were all but pressed against their little door, Noodle and Dumpling tumbling out, scrambling over each other in their efforts to be first outside. They chuffed and strutted flirtatiously around his feet for a moment, but affection couldn’t compete with hunger. They made a beeline to the trough, inspecting it hopefully, unhappy clucking rising as they found it empty.

Normally, Edge would leave it be and let Stretch be the one to feed them, but today he only scooped out the pellets, leaving them to their breakfast. He did crouch for a moment and gave them each a gentle pat.

“I’m sorry,” Edge murmured. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect her. I’ll do better from now on.” Foolish, really. They couldn’t understand him and if they were grieving the loss of their friend, it didn’t show in the way they gobbled down their food. Yet, saying it aloud gave the promise more weight, a commitment to anyone who might be listening. Edge might not believe in the Angel, but childish superstition was difficult to shed.

He’d redesign the coop and the run today, Edge decided. His kitchen could wait.

Back in the house, the first thing he did was retrieve his cane, leaning on it heavily as he went back upstairs to wash up. He didn’t linger in the shower this time, hastily sluiced away the mud and grit. His clothes went down the laundry chute and once his leg splint was back in place, he limped to the bedroom in only a towel.

He opened the bedroom door as quietly as he could, peering inside. More light was coming in around the curtains, casting the room in shadows that fell across the shapeless lump on their bed. He couldn’t tell if Stretch moved at all while he was gone.

Softly, he called, “Love?”

No response, but the sudden tension visible in the blankets indicated that he was awake. On a good morning, Stretch was likely to roll over and make a languid attempt to entice him back into the bed. His success rate was usually determined on whether or not Edge needed to get ready for work. At the very least, he would mumble out a good morning and try to stay awake long enough for a quick kiss before Edge headed out the door.

That he didn’t move nor said a word spoke volumes of its own. This was not a good morning.

Edge sighed inwardly and went to the closet to dress again before heading back downstairs. The coffee pot he turned on and let brew, then he turned on the kettle to heat. Tea wasn’t as common a beverage in their house as coffee was, but Stretch drank it often enough that the steps to making it were automatic.

Bring the water to the optimal temperate of 180 degrees. Add the tea leaves to the pot and pour the water in, letting the leaves steep for three minutes. Pour the perfectly brewed tea into a mug and add enough honey to make his own tongue curl in disgust, thus rendering all the previous steps at producing a flavorful tea useless.

The entire effort might be a pointless one anyway, but if all he could offer was a perfect cup of ruined tea, then Edge would do that much. He only wished he could do more.

He carried the mug upstairs, tapping lightly on the bedroom door this time before he opened it.

“I made you tea,” Edge kept his voice low, mindful that Stretch sometimes got headaches on his bad days. He set the mug on the side table. “You can drink it if you want or you can leave it here and I’ll come back for it later.” There was no response, not a word or so much as a creaking bed spring. Edge hesitated, then added, “You don’t need to drink it if you don’t want to. Or if you want something else, I can get it. It’s no trouble.”

Nothing. There was enough light creeping around the curtains for him to see that Stretch was buried into the covers, only the top of his skull visible. Edge closed his sockets briefly and took a long, slow breath. Completely non-verbal was a very bad sign, one that hadn’t happened in a long time, far before Stretch started with his therapy.

But today was also a very bad day, he’d known it would be, and Edge refused to allow even the beginnings of fear to take hold. Stretch needed time to fight his way out of the black cloud of his depression and Edge was going to make sure he got it.

He still faltered, torn between asking questions that might make Stretch feel worse as he couldn’t answer them right now or taking liberties that he wasn’t sure would be welcome. What Stretch wanted or needed in these times could vary by the minute.

At last, he settled on, “I’m going back downstairs for now. I’ll come back in an hour to check on you.”

Before he could turn away, a skeletal hand slipped out from beneath the blankets and caught his sleeve. It wasn’t words but he understood perfectly.

Don’t leave yet.

Edge sat on the side of the bed and set a hand gingerly on Stretch’s back, rubbing his rib cage and spine gently through the layers of blankets.

“It’s all right,” he said softly. He kept his touch light, soothing. “You don’t need to say anything.” If Stretch didn’t feel up to speaking, that was fine. “Take today, take two days. Take all the time you need. If you need anything else, I’m here.”

The hand gripping his sleeve slowly let go and disappeared back beneath the blanket. Edge nodded, “All right, I understand. I’ll leave you be for now.”

He took a moment to make sure Stretch’s phone was on the bedside table and plugged in, took a small bottle of painkillers from the table drawer and set them on the nightstand along with a glass of water he retrieved from the bathroom. Small things that Stretch might want and couldn’t ask for right now.

It might be overstepping, but he leaned in to brush a featherlight kiss on the top of Stretch’s skull, relieved when he didn’t flinch away. Then he left before he gave in to the clamoring urge to pull Stretch into his arms, to hold him tightly as if his embrace could chase his demons away. He knew better, knew that Stretch did not respond well to having his autonomy taken away even if his coping mechanisms didn’t always strictly help.

That didn’t keep the urge from rising, demanding that he do something, and so Edge left before he gave in to it, making his slow way back downstairs.

It was time to start planning, Edge always handled this better when he had a strategy. If Stretch wasn’t improved tomorrow, he would contact Asgore and request a delay in his return to the Embassy. He could keep working from home for now. That might well add to Stretch’s guilt, but he wasn’t about to leave his husband alone here in this house when he was like this.

In the meantime, he would work on redesigning the chicken coop. His original model was more for the aesthetic and to make sure the chickens stayed in. The first two concepts still stood, only now he needed to make allowances for intruders from outside the fence. It needed to be sturdy, safe, and also something that Stretch would love. Something to make him smile.

Please, let him smile.

Edge sat down at the coffee table with his pencils and graph paper to begin.

By the time he’d drawn up a basic draft, a couple hours had gone by and his spine was beginning to protest being hunched over while he sketched intently. Edge climbed to his feet, stretching and groaning luxuriously as his joints popped, a good sort of pain. Enough time had passed that he could check on Stretch again without feeling as if he were hovering and he went back upstairs, lightly knocking as a warning before going inside.

The only real difference was the shifting light from the windows. The blankets were pulled in tighter around Stretch, less a covering and more a cocoon. A glance inside the mug showed the tea was cold and untouched. But the water glass was moved and so was the bottle of painkillers, and Edge clung to that small sign. Otherwise, there was little changed, and he couldn’t see Stretch’s face, not so much as a glimmer of his eye lights shining through the blankets.

He picked up the mug. Leaving it would probably only make Stretch feel guilty and he hardly needed an extra serving of misery today. Perhaps he’d bring up a glass of juice later, apple juice on ice, one of Stretch’s favorites even if Edge shuddered to think of watering down juice that way. Stretch liked it, said that apple juice was better when it was as cold as possible, and with one of those ridiculous curling straws that he liked, yes, he would bring that up later with a mug of warm broth—

He was so caught up in the tangle of his own thoughts that he jerked when Stretch spoke, his hoarse voice startlingly loud in the quiet room.

“babe?” The word was hardly more than a raspy whisper. “i’ll try…” Stretch’s voice his voice cracked, and he swallowed audibly before started again, “i’ll get up tomorrow. promise.”

Edge closed his sockets. His own soul was heavy in his chest, on the verge of manifesting in an involuntary response to his aching need to help. He suppressed it firmly and kept his voice even and untroubled as he said, “You don’t need to promise me, love. Take all the time you need.”

The blankets shifted, Stretch’s skull bobbing in a nod and that was it. Much as he hated leaving his love alone here like this, there was nothing to be done. Not until Stretch found his way out of the Möbius strip of his anxiety and depression.

All Edge could do was be here for him and wait.

He went back downstairs and to the kitchen, pouring out the cold tea and rinsing the mug mechanically. A search of the freezer revealed a container of broth, the date on the top in his own crisp handwriting was from two months ago. It was tempting to make fresh and Edge resisted. This would be faster and he wanted to save his energy. Just in case Stretch needed anything from him, anything at all so that Edge wouldn’t feel so…

Helpless. That described perfectly how Edge had felt for the past little while with painful accuracy. Helpless to help Stretch, to protect him, to save him from the world or himself. Inaction did not sit well with him; in Underfell, Edge worked to join the guard to better protect the people of Snowdin, on the surface he worked with the Embassy, came up with strategies for the betterment of Monsters living amongst Humans. Those methods wouldn’t work with Stretch, he wasn’t a puzzle or a plan, and strategies fell apart when applied to the unpredictable, a living, breathing person.

There was a sudden knock at the door and Edge frowned, cursing silently and hurrying to see who it was. If Stretch were sleeping, he didn’t want him to wake and if he wasn’t, the very idea of guests might ruin whatever progress he’d made in his own head. Edge yanked open the door, ready to tell whoever it was to come back another day.

Only to find one of the very last Monsters he’d expected to see standing on his doorstep.

Bruno was large even for a Monster, towering over Edge and his curling horns added another several inches on top of it. He was the perfect example of what Humans might picture as a Monster. Covered in short, dark fur, with fangs protruding from the sides of his mouth and large hands tipped with claws. He was also nattily dressed in one of his own creations, a three-piece suit, complete with a pocket watch chain and a pair of shoes modified to allow his clawed toes to poke out, topped with spats.

More than once Bruno bemoaned to Edge that they’d come to the surface far too late and all the very best in fashion had already been abandoned in the Human world while Edge nodded in pained agreement. His designs often added past trends to current ones in a way that was aesthetically pleasing to Monsters and Humans alike. It kept him very busy and as far as Edge knew, he generally did not make house calls. And yet here he was, garment bags in hand.

“Ah, good afternoon!” Bruno swept off his hat and bowed deeply.

“Good afternoon,” Edge replied cautiously, “Do you mind if we speak outside? Stretch isn’t feeling well, and I don’t want to wake him.”

“Of course, of course!” Bruno’s whispers were much like Papyrus’s, pitched only slightly below his already booming voice. “It is a lovely spring day, we can speak out here!”

Edge stepped outside and closed the door behind him. He winced inwardly to see the bags in Bruno’s hands; he’d meant to call the tailor yesterday and with everything going on, he’d forgotten. “You’ll have to forgive me, it slipped my mind to contact you.” He gestured to his leg, still firmly secured in velcro and fiberglass. “As it turns out, I can wear the splint over my clothing, so I don't need any trousers adjusted.”

“This is good because I did not do that,” Bruno said firmly. “An attempt was made and it looked horrible. It could not be allowed.”

He should have guessed. “Then what can I do for you?”

“I am so glad you asked. I have brought what your husband ordered!” Bruno held up one of the bags triumphantly.

Despite the misery and uncertainty of the morning, Edge found his curiosity roused along with his wariness. “My husband. Ordered clothes for me.”

“But of course!” Bruno leaned in with a conspiratorial wink, “It is one of my creations, but he seemed quite interested in it!”

If wearing it would bring Stretch even a scrap of joy, Edge wouldn’t care if it was a clown suit. “Show me.”

With the flourish of a true salesman, Bruno unzipped the bag and whisked the clothing out, holding it up with arrogant grandeur.

That…was not what Edge expected. He’d thought perhaps something similar to Stretch’s clothing from his abduction visit to Bruno’s shop. Khakis and a button-up perhaps, or a fine sweater. Maybe even something in leather, Bruno was not snobbish when it came to true fashion.

This was something else. The suitcoat was a deep black, the cut of the jacket higher than he’d normally wear and the sleeves were embellished with unusual square buttons, the cuffs cut on the diagonal instead of straight across. There was a vest to match and several ties in a variety of colors hung neatly over one shoulder. That he took in with a cursory inspection.

It was the lower half of the garment that had his attention. A kilt, he recognized, in a pattern of green and blue with narrow red and white intersecting lines. Subdued and tasteful, a different sort of elegance than he normally chose. Edge slipped off a glove and cautiously fingered the material, testing the fineness of the cloth. He was not at all surprised at the quality he found, that at least wasn’t surprising. That it was made for him at all, however—

“Stretch chose this?” Edge murmured.

“Ah! He chose the concept, but this he has not yet seen.” There was a certain predatory gleam in Bruno’s eye. “You like it.”

“I do,” Edge admitted. There was no point in prevarication, Bruno had hooked his claws into Edge’s wallet long before he and Stretch were past the stage of constant bickering.

“Excellent!” Bruno said cheerily. He slipped it back into garment bag, fussily arranging it to prevent any snags from the zipper and now it was the other bags in his hand took hold of Edge’s curiosity.

“What are those then if they aren’t trousers?” he asked, hoping he wouldn’t regret the answer.

“I also brought more clothes for Stretch,” Bruno said slyly. He tugged down the zipper on one bag, offering a glimpse of a creamy material trimmed with a rich blue that would be lovely coupled with Stretch’s magic. “His other outfit turned out so nicely that I thought to make more.”

Of course. That sort of cutthroat salesmanship would have served Bruno well in Underfell, Edge thought with a certain amused sourness. But he hesitated over accepting any new clothing. He never wanted Stretch to feel like he was trying to change him and yet, the memory of that last outfit, the way those trousers delectably fit against his slim bones. If Stretch needed wear something better than his normal track pants and hoodies, Edge’s clothes served for most things, and yet, they weren’t made for him like these would be, fitting him like a well-loved glove.

Bruno was waiting patiently, but there was no mistaking his knowing expression. A clotheshound always knew another of their kind .

"Add them to the order," Edge sighed. He could store them downstairs in the laundry room for now. If he left them in the bags, Stretch would assume they were his dry cleaning and perhaps someday, when the timing was better, he could ask? If that time never came, he would only be out the money, even if the sum on the bill that Bruno handed over made him wince slightly.

He took the bags that Bruno handed over without looking, though temptation was furiously strong. Better not to torment himself right now, he didn’t need the distraction.

“Thank you for your patronage,” Bruno called cheerily as he made his plodding way down the walkway. “Tell Stretch I hope he feels better soon!”

“You’re welcome and I will,” Edge replied, a touch dryly. If nothing else, he owed Bruno for the distraction, their brief conversation left him feeling calmer, settled. He went back inside and downstairs and he’d barely gotten the bags hung up in the laundry room when his phone buzzed. A quick glance showed the text was from his brother and Edge frowned, opening it.

There was nothing but an address for here in New New Home and the sharp swell of his annoyance far outstripped his brother’s action, but today, Red’s cryptic nature was more than a little unwelcome.

He sent a curt message back, I am in no mood for a scavenger hunt.

A return text came swiftly. trust me.

Edge stared at those two words, unblinking. It was something Red said often, carelessly tossing the words out with a smirk and a wink, all sly insinuation and mocking. And yet at the end of it all, as much as Red infuriated him and antagonized him, he did. Edge did trust his brother.

Edge left the message unanswered, allowing himself that much petulance, and made his way back upstairs. He’d check on Stretch once more and then go see whatever it was his brother wanted to show him. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take long and wouldn’t end with any other problems to weigh on him. Edge had more than enough on his plate right now.

~~*~~