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ilikemesometaetaes · 4 years ago

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Set Me Free (M)

Min Yoongi Oneshot

•••> Author: @ilikemesometaetaes

•••> Summary: You are just an ordinary woman with a strange aura about you that Yoongi can’t seem to resist- even past the compulsion of his mentor. The question is: why?

•••> Pairing(s): Yoongi/Reader

•••> Requested by @itsgottabeyoo-ngs : “Hi daddy, One shot request with vampire Yoongi x brat reader. Bonus points for adding in choking or spitting idk make it filthy k thanks love you byeeeee xoxoxoxox”

•••> Word Count: 10.95k

•••> Rating: 18+

•••> Warnings: smut, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, murder, attempted murder, slight choking/strangulation, dirty talk, biting, blood drinking, spitting, violence, horror, vampire/human relationship, cursing, mental attachment, thirsty Yoongi, Yoongi thinks he’s scary, but he’s totally not

Thank you for the request, babe! This one is a bit to unpack, as you can see. I hope you enjoy :)

~#~

Yoongi never claimed to have his thirst under complete control.

He stands before his brothers once every week for the feed, snarling as he consumes his share of blood, while the others bear witness so as to provide him ceremonial protection- a vampire is very vulnerable while he consumes blood. The polydipsia made one lose all form of reason and sense of mind, driven to the brink of animalistic insanity when it was in the process of mildly quenching the eternal hunger.

Polydipsia, used to describe his level of thirst, was the word made just for him in his own little world.

It wasn’t normal thirst, like a human, but the savage-like impulse to drink and drown until he could swim in a river of blood and take deep lungfuls of the crimson fluid. The impossible desire to consume and be completely consumed by blood until he became it himself always loomed over his mind in his early days as a Deadblood- a vampire youngling- causing him to search for a word that could completely describe his affliction.

Then the Greeks begun transforming their language, perfecting the word that he could use to chronicle his need. He had mulled over the thought throughout the few centuries that the word came into existence, truly connecting with it on a level that was deprived of him when his soul was taken from his body.

But the word was not only used to describe normal thirst; it described the abnormal desire to drink as a symptom of disease- and a disease is what Min Yoongi had.

From the days he explored the lands of Goryeo as a young teenage boy, he knew that disease racked every inch of the world. Street beggars, riddled with sicknesses and incurable illnesses, asked him for coin, food, clothing, and any necessities that could potentially carry them through the night into another sunrise. But the one thing that they begged for the most was water.

Liquid life. Yoongi thinks back on the ironic turn of events and how, even as a privileged boy of nobles, he understood just how desperate a person got when they were deprived of the one, singular fluid that supported life as he knew it.

As Yoongi approached adulthood, he was promoted and bestowed larger honors in the name of the Min clan, allowing him to provide more for the beggars and lower-class individuals that he came across on the streets every day- not that his father would find out.

Until he did.

Yoongi recalls the moment he knew that his father figured out that his son was spoiling the family riches on the lower class. They weren’t sitting down for dinner and having a conversation nor taking a stroll along the river like the two of them normally would- it was quite surprising, really. Yoongi had to applaud his father for the creativity of the circumstance.

He knew that his father figured out his whereabouts when he found himself bleeding out in the middle of the woods with three arrows, adorned with the Min clan crest carved into the wood, sticking out of his chest. He was sent to look for his supposedly lost little sister under the direction that she was probably at a watering hole- which Yoongi had never heard about- about forty-five minutes from the edge of Goryeo’s walls.

Many people ventured outside of the city to fend for food and necessities, or to find civilization elsewhere, so it wasn’t surprising to him that his curious baby sister wanted to see for herself what life was like outside of the city’s limits.

As Yoongi lay dying on the soil of the earth, staring up at the greenery of the trees above while they lightly swayed in the breeze, he realized that everyone, regardless of social-class or physical health, was fighting the same, universal disease: death. No one could escape it and no one was safe. At least, that’s the epiphany he had in an effort to comfort himself while he felt his heart painfully struggle to beat with an arrowhead lodged into it. Copious amounts of blood spurt out with each pulse of his damaged organ.

And then the universe decided to set him free from death with a cure worse than the disease itself.

Yoongi doesn’t remember who his creator was. He doesn’t remember how long he spent on the forest floor with the arrows still in his chest. He doesn’t remember waking up.

His memory of his new life started from the moment his consciousness returned, in the exact second that he found a set of vocal cords clutched in the palm of his hand, dripping with crimson, after apparently ripping them out of a young boy who was actively collapsing in front of him. The boy, who Yoongi immediately recognized from the streets of Goryeo, was choking on his own gore as he clutched at his now nonexistent throat, staring up at his killer with a jumbled expression that silently begged for help yet withdrew from terror.

It took Yoongi five years of trekking everywhere and no where while attempting to control his thirst before he found new meaning. He mostly had a hold on the scorch in his throat by staying away from the city and surrounding villages before he met another and figured out what he became.

The woman- no, girl?- appeared young yet spoke as if she had seen countless winters, the wisdom of a million middays glowing behind her carmine eyes. She was the first person he had met who did not end up dead within the first two minutes of scenting them on the wind.

“You are a vampire. You survive purely on the life essence of others. You are still a young Deadblood. Judging by your age, you should become a Redblood soon.” She sat with her back to him, overlooking the valley below the then-unnamed Odaesan mountain that they sat perched upon. “Do you know who created you?”

“Created me?” He asked. “What do you mean? My parents?”

She turned, her vibrant red eyes continuing to shock him. Did his own orbs look like this?

“I mean, who turned you?” She seemed to look at him incredulously, shocked by his lack of knowledge. “Who gave you their venom- their shi?”

“I…” Yoongi tried very hard to remember anything before the burning sensation that scraped like rocks against the insides of his bones and flesh, but all he could see and feel was fire and agony- and then blood. He couldn’t help but think with a grain of salt, disbelieving of the method in which he was born into his new life. “I don’t know. I just remember from my first kill.”

“Strange.” The other vampire muttered, returning her gaze to the valley. “Strange, indeed.”

Yoongi was always the silent type, only interacting when he needed to as a habit formed to avoid the questioning glare of his father when he returned home late on certain occasions.

But he couldn’t help the burning desire of curiosity within him, a welcome distraction from the need to feed within him. He had so many questions.

“You may ask your questions, Min Yoongi.” The woman sighed, not even bothering to spare him a glance whilst she spoke. The man was shocked to find that she knew his name without him telling her.

“How do you know my name?” The new revelation took precedent in his mind, hoping that she was not an enemy of his clan.

“A valid question.” She mused. “Anticipated, but valid. I suppose I’ll answer your question to the best of my ability.”

Yoongi shifted his position in preparation, a new habit that he formed in his new life. He learned from the first time he moved to stretch that his body did not need to be stretched as it usually did. He never ached, never cramped, never tired, and never lost energy. Despite the lack of his emotions in their usual form, he knew that it should have been unsettling to find such a new change within him, so he did the sensible thing of pretending that he needed to.

He pretended he needed to breathe- after two hours at the bottom of a lake he stumbled upon in his aimless journey, he was amazed to find that he required no oxygen to continue existing- and that he didn’t need to sleep nor use the bathroom. He would practice taking breaths, trying to inhale and exhale evenly without becoming allured to the pungent yet undeniably attractive scent of animal blood so that he could finally smell the forest again. He pretended to go to sleep and wake up with the urge to relieve himself of the noneixstent pressure in his bladder despite not having any of the instincts he once had.

The woman spoke, answering his first question.

“I can hear your thoughts. They’re not necessarily specific, but I can hear when you are wistful- like you are now- or when you are curious or sad or angry. I can hear the causes of these emotions.” She paused. “It comes with the gift of my second life. A form of protection, if you will.”

“Why would I need protection when I am invincible? I’ve seen the things I can do and what my body can endure.” He briefly recalled repeatedly jumping from a cliff, automatically landing on his feet no matter how hard he tried not to. Before, he had a will to survive with a choice of dying, but now? There was no comprehensible choice. “There is nothing that can hurt me.”

Yoongi couldn’t help cocking his head to the side like a confused dog when the woman let out a breathless laugh.

“Because, young one,” She looked at him with her eyes again, a look of mock endearment filling them. “You are not invincible.”

For a moment, Yoongi did not believe her. He believed that the liquid running through his veins was pure ichor, an essence of the gods, but when he returned her look of sincere truth, he understood that dying was still very much possible.

Thanking the gods, Yoongi looked to the ground and began toying with his fingers at his revelation. He could stop murdering people, willing to die in order to do so.

The woman shook her head. “No, Min Yoongi. You do not have to die to stop killing humans. In fact, it is the reason I have not killed you yet. You are unaware of the possibilities.”

His head perked up at the comment, suddenly eager to learn.

“How? How can I live without killing?” All he could see was the young boy that he had murdered in cold blood; the boy’s warm brown eyes staring up at him as he watched the life drain from them burned into his memory- he didn’t even know the boy’s name. The boy could not have been older than his own sister.

“I never told you that you could continue to live without killing. Of course, you have to kill. But you do not have to kill people.” The woman nodded her head down the mount. “Do you smell that? Do you smell the life that lives throughout this mountain?”

Yoongi attempted to focus on his senses but could only feel the thirst once again tormenting his throat. As soon as the woman shifted his attention back to the aroma of life, he salivated. Of course, he smelled the animal’s scents, but he could also detect traces of human life upwind that completely took away his desire for anything but humans.

“Push the thirst aside to open your senses. Embrace them. Embrace your power and your abilities. Focus on those.”

Again, he tried to push the scorch in his throat to the side, only to find that it was an impossible feat seeing as he had not fed in several months. He wanted human blood so badly.

“Poor child. I did not realize how weak you were.” She let a grimace morph her features, the first true expression of genuine emotion that Yoongi had seen on her. “Come sit in front of me. I will help you.”

For a moment, Yoongi hesitated. Was she going to kill him? He was not sure, but after a few more thoughts to himself, he realized that he had nothing to lose. Following her direction obediently, he moved to sit with his legs crossed in front of the woman.

“Now, close your eyes and listen to my voice.” She raised her hands to his head, placing her fingertips on his temples, and began whispering while he let his eyes flutter closed.

He felt as if he was mentally hit by a charging bear.

The woman’s words echoed in his mind, seating themselves amongst every corner and crevice that they could touch before Yoongi could understand what was happening. Shocked by the feeling of being intruded upon, he tried to push back against the mind-numbing force of her words, uncomfortable and feeling violated by the sensation. Instead of stopping them, her voice just broke down his amateur attempt at a mental barrier and pushed its way further into his brain. He was helpless to her superior mental awareness and gift.

“You will not focus on the thirst. You will focus on your abilities. Focus on the blood of animals and the blood of those already dead.”

And Min Yoongi had no option but to obey for he was forced into a dieted life.

But as he stands, thousands of years later, in the middle of your kitchen whilst watching you silently with the inferno of the blazing sun in his esophagus, he couldn’t help the need that overcame him. He could not obey his mentor; miraculously and horrifyingly, the gift of his mentor did not work with you.

He was impelled by his mentor’s gift, effectively removing most of the bloodlust he had for humans. In his lifetime, after the unavoidable command was bestowed upon him, he had only killed a handful of humans when he was consumed by the thirst after living in self-induced exile for so long. But standing before you, he may have needed to add a finger to that handful depending on what you did next.

Yoongi first clocked you on his radar the moment you walked into the small coffee shop he was occupying for the later part of the morning.

Building a friendship with you was quite easy.

You were bright and warm and everything wonderful upon meeting him. Your smile was just shy of naive, yet he couldn’t help the alien tugs on his heart when watching you giggle.

“How old are you, Yoongi?” You asked while circling the straw in your caramel macchiato.

“Old enough.” He chuckled, looking down with what you perceived as shyness.

“Oh?” You laughed with him. “And how old is enough for you?”

“I could ask you the same question. How old do you think I am?” He met your eyes, once again shocking you with their beautifully vibrant shade of brown.

“Well…” You trailed off, studying his facial features closely- the hint of a permanent smile line, fresh haircut, and no wrinkles alluded that he couldn’t be over thirty. “I’m gonna say… twenty-five?”

The man across from you smiled. “Very close. I’m twenty-seven.”

So he wasn’t that much older than you. You could totally do him.

Yoongi noticed the flash of lust that ghosted through your pupils for a split second, recognizing the dilation of them as you glanced at him. He watched you stick your chest out a bit more, begin fiddling with your hair more often, and part your lips while you let the thoughts of sexual satisfaction run across your mind.

“Twenty-seven, huh? That’s not bad at all.” You smiled, letting your tongue lightly swipe along your bottom lip unconsciously.

Yoongi zeroed in on the action with a piercing gaze, watching as the muscle seemed to move in slow motion tauntingly, daring him to dig his fangs into it savagely before tearing it from your mouth to feel the blood pouring from your lips onto his face.

His body reacted sensibly, blood rushing like fake adrenaline to awaken his better instincts- rushing everywhere- and making his jeans become uncomfortably tight as they restrained his filling manhood.

Blood drinking was as exciting as it was satisfying for a vampire. An extremely personal and holy moment, consuming lifeblood was the most raw and sexual moment to experience. A vampire could not experience real sexual desire without it.

He dug his fingers into the faux leather of his side of the booth until they broke through the material to restrain himself from attempting to attack you in the middle of the day.

Quickly, gaining his sense of mind once again, he tore more holes into the leather to round out the punctures so that it could appear as if the holes were from wear and tear.

The scent of your blood transpierced by the hormones and adrenaline beginning to flow through your veins made it just that much more implausibly alluring. Yoongi admitted that you were a beautiful and kind woman from the conversation throughout the morning. He also knew that you had a deviant side due to the surprisingly quick appearance of your lust-filled gaze.

Yet he couldn’t help the urge to murder you on the spot.

He knew that he couldn’t touch you. The supernatural safety of the sun that shone on your body prevented him from laying a finger on your skin without his own lighting aflame. He learned the protection of sun rays on humans the hard way.

His fifth human victim, a monk who travelled the heights of Mount Odaesan- Yoongi’s sanctuary and home- for a religious trial, travelled early in the morning as the sun was rising. Yoongi smelt the sweat dripping from the man’s skin instantly. In the small cove he called home, he tried to resist the urge to kill the man for he hadn’t smelt human blood in several years.

His mentor’s words were ever present. ‘Focus on the blood of animals and the blood of those already dead.’

Despite having those words affecting his instincts, Yoongi had managed to convince himself that the monk was a dead man standing once he smelled remnants of a virus tainting his scent, effectively bypassing the impulsion of the woman’s mind control.

Yoongi found himself rushing at the man without a second thought, fangs bared and fingers curled in preparation to tear the man’s limbs from his body. However, before he could get within two feet of the vulnerable monk, he was thrown back by an invisible and boiling hot force that left him screaming in agony and flying through the air.

The monk quickly ran back down the mountain in terror, yet Yoongi could pay no mind as he lay on the forest floor, ready to die once again as his skin singed and fell from his flesh like swamp sludge.

As his throat tore itself raw from his wails of misery, his body writhed in and out on itself in complete and utter anguish. The smell of burnt flesh overwhelmed his nostrils, pungent and nauseating in every possible way. How he was able to focus on something other than the pain was beyond him.

Despite the burning, Yoongi could feel his aflame skin beginning to heal itself. Clawing through the dirt, he felt the blood stored in his stomach rushing through his veins to the broken and severed ones, rebuilding them and recreating the network of arteries necessary to begin restoring his expanse of skin.

Before long, the pain subsided and Yoongi was no longer screaming. The entire ordeal lasted approximately twenty minutes- long enough that Yoongi no longer heard the footsteps of the monk and long enough for him to process the events that had just happened.

He was thankful that he became a Redblood with the ability to use consumed blood throughout his body, unsure of what would have happened to him if he had been a Deadblood at the time. Deadbloods burned through consumed blood quicker than a spark from a flint could ignite kindling into a flame.

He definitely needed to ask the woman, Zizi, about it. And he definitely needed to track that monk until sundown so that he could get rid of any loose ends.

Yoongi grimaced slightly, remembering the occurrence like it was yesterday, as he sat across from you.

You were still looking down at your cup in blissful unawareness of his inner turmoil and life that he’s lived thus far. You definitely were not dense enough to not notice his gaze on your skin, but you were definitely ignorant of the fact that he was thinking about what would happen if he could just get you to move a few feet to the right to gain cover from the direct line of the sun. He just needed to get you into the shadows.

“Y/N,” He called your name. You instantly looked up in response. “How old are you?”

“Old enough.” You teased him back with his own words. He let a small smile thin his lips before he looked down to hide it. When you followed his gaze and noticed that he didn’t have a drink, you jumped to the opportunity.

“Can I buy you a drink, Min Yoongi?” You asked him.

“Oh, I’m not particularly craving coffee at the moment.” He paused and held his breath, as if trying to find the words to say. “I just like to sit here sometimes and enjoy watching the street.”

“Well,” Ask him! Ask him out! Yes! Do it! Your head screamed at you to be confident. You knew he was the shy type; you would be waiting all day for him to make a move and you just didn’t have the time nor patience for that. “Let me get you a drink at my bar?”

The man looked mildly impressed for a moment. “You own a bar?”

“A small one.” You swiftly added. “It’s not a big popular one or anything but I didn’t want a place too big. I like the smaller things.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but smile. You were a kind and beautiful woman living a simple life. He dreaded the moment that he was going to have to kill you.

“I take it you’re pretty well off then?” He asks. “And please don’t take this as me digging around. I’m just curious.”

“Don’t worry about it. Yeah, actually.” You laughed and sat back in your chair, looking out the window onto the street as people and cars passed by. “I’ve always been pretty lucky for some reason. The gods always seem to be in my favor and give me what I want.”

Yoongi smirked for a moment. If she wants me, she can have me. Then, I’ll have her.

When Yoongi found himself in the prime position to attack you in your kitchen, several weeks later, he knew. He finally had you where he wanted you.

A handful of dates that he found quite pleasant were all it took.

You turned out to be just what he thought- a strangely attractive and alluring woman, the scent of your blood aside. You exhumed an odd magnetism about you that Yoongi had never felt from a human. He regretted the decision of waiting so long to kill you seeing as he was considering letting you live. But he knew that he couldn’t do that.

With your back turned to him, busying yourself with dinner, he could easily snap your neck so that you wouldn’t scream and struggle- and you would be dead almost instantly. A quick and nearly painless death was what you deserved. He didn’t want you to suffer at all.

However, just as he crouched in preparation to lunge at you, you spoke.

“Are you ready for dinner, babe?” You asked him.

He smiled devilishly, venom filling his mouth as he salivated. “Yes, I am. I’m starving.”

You chuckled. “Okay.”

“Go and sit down at the table.”

It was the most simple of commands. Telling Yoongi to sit down wasn’t an order. You weren’t demanding him to do it. You never demanded anything of him. It was a mere suggestion in your eyes.

Yet Yoongi felt his body moving to the dinner table without a second thought, unable to resist obeying your words.

What in the everliving fuck.

He sat quickly, impotent to move from his spot while he waited for you to bring the food from the counter. His thirst obliterated his throat, causing it to seize up and restrict any air that he could previously breathe, but he sat in wonder as you seemed to hold power over him that he had never felt before.

You turned with both of your dinner plates in hand and he quickly smothered the panic on his face, wondering what in the world had just happened.

“I’m not at all a chef, but you better eat everything.” Yoongi tested your words, seeing if the inclination to finish your food was present, only to find a slight mental nudge- as he expected. You didn’t tell him to do anything; you merely made an ‘or else’ statement.

No longer desperate to kill you for the time being, Yoongi sat still and waited for your next words. Once you sat the plate in front of him, you uttered a joke.

“Dig in.”

And dig in Yoongi did. He picked up his fork and scooped into the pasta you made without any willingness to deny you.

The pasta wasn’t fantastic in any sort of the word- It was plain, although it could be due to the fact that it wasn’t at all what he truly craved and needed. It was like eating a piece of stale bread while he was offered a perfectly cooked and outright juicy steak on a silver platter. The food that he ate wouldn’t be consumed by his body and used for nutrients; the shi in his stomach would burn it to nothingness within the next few hours.

Uncontrollably, Yoongi shoved mouthful after mouthful into his mouth- he couldn’t stop. Once he finished chewing one bite, his hand was immediately bringing him another, and then another. Despite lacking the need to breathe, Yoongi felt himself suffocating with each bite as the realization that he could do nothing except eat his food settled in his mind.

“I see you were hungry.” You laughed, unaware of his predicament. Yoongi’s eyes shot up to yours and silently hoped you would give him another command so that he could stop the foolishness.

You, however, just sat there feeling sort of proud of yourself- not only for making an edible meal, but for making one Yoongi seemed to enjoy. Even though it was slightly shocking to see him out of his usually cool character, acting like a man suffering from hunger, you couldn’t help but find it undeniably cute.

Eating slowly while watching him, you let your feelings for him come to the surface.

Yoongi was utterly beautiful. His black hair that fell over his face while he was cleaning up the last bits of his plate was just long enough to cover his eyes, yet as he looked at you without reservation, you felt he had a clear line of sight straight into your soul.

His skin was nearly flawless save for the light and narrow scar that cut into his right eye. Others found the scar intimidating and ugly, but you found it rather attractive. Yoongi, with his uncanny physical allure, was undeniably the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

Your body was alight with joy and content. In the few weeks that you got to know him, liking him was incredibly easy and having him in your home, in a domestic setting, lit your heart on fire with the possibility of falling in love with him.

He was incredibly easy to love, you discovered. Everything about him begged you to fall for him. As if the universe created him just for you, Min Yoongi was the epitome of perfection- in your eyes, anyway.

Briefly, you had shown a photo of him to your mother. She became unsettled instantly by his appearance.

“He’s so pale. And a little scary-looking.” She squinted at the photo you took of him when he wasn’t looking. You never brought him up again to your mother, disliking the fact that she didn’t like your potential boyfriend and found him scary.

The picture just happened to be your favorite- being because he didn’t like pictures and it was the only one you had of him.

He kindly asked you to not take photos of him. When you prompted him as to why during one of your more intimate moments at your bar, he only answered playfully as he held you close to him, lips begging for you to kiss them.

“Because I don’t want to leave evidence.” He whispered, breath tickling your nose. His body was warm and sturdy, muscles rippling under your touch as you clung to his shoulders.

“Evidence from what?” You asked breathily. The heat in your panties had increased tenfold over the last few minutes as his eyes grew hungrier with want. Yoongi’s fingers dug into your waist painfully, pulling you so close that you barely had room to expand your lungs to breathe, yet you couldn’t help the edgy feeling of how rough he could be with you.

“From when I eat you up.”

Thinking back on the memory, you shivered involuntarily, hoping that tonight might be the night you actually get to have him. He’d made you wait for a little over a month and you had no idea why. You definitely felt him straining through his pants a few times. But no kisses or anything further than the pressing of your bodies was accomplished.

Yoongi finished his plate and sat upright briskly, pulling you from your wishful thinking with a jump.

“Y/N,” He nearly growled, shocking you. “What else do you want me to do?”

The fork you were holding clattered to your plate instantly. Wow. He’s sizzling hot.

“I-“ You stuttered a bit. “I- uh.”

“Spit it out.” He hissed. You jumped again, trying to find the words to say with the heat growing in your panties.

Quickly, you answered him. “I want you to take me to my bedroom.”

“Thank god.” He groaned, getting up slowly with a smirk on his face. “Is that just a request? Because I can walk out now if you don’t actually want this.”

“Take me to my bedroom, Yoongi.” You stood slowly, carefully, as if you were afraid to trigger him.

Yoongi pushed in his chair and moved towards you at a speed that was almost inhuman. You yelped in astonishment as Yoongi attempted to control himself- he couldn’t bring you to your bedroom at his natural speed or else he would have a very motion-sick human to worry about. Instead, he trembled with the effort to resist your command at full force, knowing that the only way it was possible was due to the fact that he was still, in fact, taking you to your bedroom.

Picking you up was easier than breathing. You weighed absolutely nothing in his arms because of his advanced strength, so when he felt you trying to assist him in carrying you by holding your body stiffly, he huffed out a laugh whilst he walked.

“Relax, woman. You are as light as a feather.”

You blushed under his words, leaning into his chest to hide your cheeks.

“Stop that.” He growled, entering your bedroom. You looked up at him and he couldn’t tear his eyes from the blood that rushed to your cheeks. “I can’t resist if you do that.”

“Then don’t.” You whispered. Your heart pounded in your chest, begging him to hear it. “Don’t resist.”

His fangs came forth immediately, for he could not resist your command while he flew to your bed to throw you down. Despite your unknowing of what you were telling him to do, he fostered no opposition to what he was about to do.

The roughness of his throw startled you for a moment as you looked up at his vastly approaching figure, only to grow terrified when you caught sight of his face.

The veins protruding out of his temples and cheeks pumped blood straight into the whites of his eyes, turning them completely bloodshot, as they framed the now-crimson irises. Long incisors protruded from his mouth as he opened it with a hiss, revealing the way his human teeth shifted apart to allow his inhuman ones to break through the gums. Instantly, you parted your lips to scream.

Yoongi was upon you instantly, hand covering your mouth and silencing your cry while he snarled menacingly, yet he couldn’t help but feel remorse for killing you.

“I’m sorry.” He whimpered through his animalistic demeanor. “I can’t stop.”

You were screaming below his hand and, instantaneously, he had an idea.

He was leaning forward slowly, able to slow himself in the process of not resisting you. “Y/N,” He strained, changing the frequency of his talent, and waited for you to silence yourself in order to listen to him. He took his hand off of your mouth slowly after he heard your heart calm itself past your weeping. “Tell me to stop.”

“Stop!” You sobbed whilst clawing at his chest and kicking at his legs. “Don’t kill me!”

Not a second passed before Yoongi flew off of you, throwing his back to your wall with a loud thud while he cursed lowly.

You scrambled to the headboard of your bed, pressing your back against it in an attempt to gain some distance between the two of you. Your eyes were wide, chest heaving with your breath short, as you looked at the man in front of you.

“I-“ Yoongi stuttered for the first time in decades. “I’m sorry.”

“Your eyes!” Your burst out. You were unable to contain your fear and shock, so you displaced it into your curiosity. “Y-your- Your face! Your teeth!”

Yoongi stood against the wall, breathing just as hard as you, with his eyes cast to the floor in the process of trying to control his facial features. He could no longer kill you. The thought revolted him- every time he considered drinking your blood, the idea was banished from his mind with a sense of nausea following. Good god. She is unaware of her ability yet I am completely at her mercy.

“I apologize. I couldn’t help myself.” He breathed. What Yoongi forgot to take into account was the fact that he began implementing the gift of his second life on you the moment he stepped foot through your threshold, so your mind was completely scrambled by this point.

It was nighttime now; he could not leave your house no matter how hard he tried. He knew of the fallacy that vampires needed to be invited in and he found himself giggling from time to time at how close humans got to the actual lore of his kind.

He could enter your house, uninvited, during the day. He could lurk every corner of your abode without a bother, yet when night fell and the sun finally set, he would be stuck inside until morning. He knew he would be staying the night in your house the moment he agreed to have dinner with you. If he attempted to enter through your door during the night, however, he would have no luck- the night’s protection would convince his brain to walk away from your home without any further reconsideration until he was a good distance from it.

He was in the first position now.

He wished that he could leave you and disappear from your life without a trace so that you could live a peaceful and happy life without him, but he was afraid that it was impossible now with sundown a mere two hours prior. Your powers were no match for the natural protection of the earth. The both of you had a long night ahead of yourselves.

So he used his ability. Yoongi gave you control- rational thought, rather. His gift allowed him to grant organization of the mind and precise focus to others, but he could also take it away.

Upon entering your home, he began the process of slowly but surely ebbing away your barriers and logical thought- he couldn’t do it too fast or else you would panic like you were now. With a presently impossible-to-kill human whose heart was beating out of her chest and a command to not kill you forcing him into submission, he was obligated to prevent you from having a heart attack that was caused by him.

With laser-like focus, he channeled his gift straight into your open mind. Yoongi rebuilt the walls he had previously broken down over the past few hours, restocked your jumbled thoughts into their proper spaces, and flowed his energy through each corridor of judicious conception so that you could continue to develop your focus into that of supernatural proportion. He hoped that you, with a new mind, would tell him to get away from you and to kill himself. Dying by the hands of such a robust ability wouldn’t be too bad of a way to go.

You, however, never had such a decisive mind. Your mind was never clearer and you had never felt such clarity in your thoughts before. It allowed you to feel the magnetism that he radiated.

You knew he was a vampire. You don’t remember how you knew or how you recognized it, but you knew that he was not the first of his kind you had come across. Maybe it was the obvious fangs that gave it away.

“Yoongi,” You whispered. “You’re a vampire.”

His eyes, now back to their normal gorgeously coffee-bean shade, flicked up to yours in surprise.

“You know what I am?” He spluttered, flabbergasted. “You don’t think I’m a demon? Or the devil?”

“I’m not stupid. I know a vampire when I see one.” Your tone did not waver nor shake despite being a potential victim to a vampire. Was it the adrenaline?

“Then you know that I am a danger to you.” He said lowly, shock still evident on his face, while he began gravitating towards your bedroom door to leave.

“No. Stay.” You found yourself pining for his presence while he froze up in his spot. You eyed the action analytically. “If you were a danger to me, I wouldn’t be alive right now. You had plenty opportunity to kill me.”

“That’s the thing,” His hands pressed to the wall and scratched into it with the effort to move further from you. “I don’t have much of a choice anymore.”

“And why is that?” You relaxed your body and slowly slid your way across the bed towards him.

“Because I can’t.” Yoongi actually gasped for air as you stood from your bed to slowly approach him. “Y/N. Don’t come near me.”

“Why don’t you have a choice?” You ignored his warning, fully aware of the risk you were taking yet uncaring of the consequences. You were too focused on the fact that you actually wanted him.

Yoongi could not move from his spot, a side effect of your command to stay, but he refused to meet your eyes. The irresistible scent of your blood clashing with the order to not kill you fucked with his mind in ways he never experienced, creating an excruciatingly splitting headache between his temples. He wanted to drink from you so bad yet he could not move a single muscle.

“You can tell me to do anything. You can tell me to stay away from you. You can tell me to leave you alone. Hell, you can tell me to kill myself and I’d do it.” He ground out, attempting to press his back further into the wall as he felt your body heat against his skin. You came too close. He could smell your hormones lacing through your blood, triggering a wash of his shi over his dry tongue and a yearning to tear you apart overriding his senses.

He wanted to sink his fangs into your flesh so badly that he was beginning to scare himself. Allowing his venom to seep into your system would undoubtedly send you into ecstasy; you would only feel a pinch of pain as his saliva instantly burned through your nerves and set them alight. He could kill you while you were in pleasure; you wouldn’t feel anything but bliss as he drained the life from you.

“And why do you, a powerful creature such as yourself, allow me to have this power over you?” You asked. Was he in love with you? You definitely could love the man with how much you felt drawn to him but, for crying out loud, it had only been a few weeks.

“I don’t allow it. You are a gifted human. You possess this power over me.” Although Yoongi enjoyed having a calm conversation with you, he couldn’t help but feel bad that he used his gift on you. It was almost an unfair playing card- a “get-out-of-jail” card.

Because you should be running, terrified and screaming, even with his ability active in your mind. Maybe he had used it too much? Yoongi recalled the one time he went overboard with his gift, driving a man to suicide as he focused too much on the meaning of life and the regretful things he had done. Immediately concerned, Yoongi reached out a mental tether- a rare talent amongst his kind- to gauge your stability.

What he found, instead, was a dark and curling line attaching to his, pulling it in as quickly as Yoongi offered it. Before he could reel back away from it, it was fully intertwined and pulling his line to attach to you, only to rear back and completely obliterate his senses when it entered his head.

No. No no no. It’s impossible.

Yoongi was moving forward and caging you against the bed at full speed before he could stop himself, nestling his body between your eagerly opening legs as a hiss escaped his lips. Immediately, he realized that he broke through your command unwavered. The thirst came back at full force when you moaned from the friction on your heat.

“You’re-“ He tested the sensation of true, sexual arousal with a slow grind of himself into you, gasping with a jerk of his dick when his action squeezed his member between his body and yours. “You’re my-“

You moaned again, sitting up slightly to try and capture his lips with your own, unable to control the desire that surmounted in your heart. When he resumed his look of shock, backing away from your advance so that he could look at where your bodies touched, you spoke through the heady emotion. “I’m your what?”

“It can’t be.” He whispered. After a single beat, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours with a crushing pressure that split your lip instantly.

The pain seared across your bottom lip and distracted you for a moment, emitting a groan deep in your throat that he matched when the taste of your blood exploded onto his tastebuds. Instead of swallowing it like he wanted to, he brought a hand to your chin and opened your lips to spit your blood, along with his venom, back into your mouth so that it would take your pain away.

For a moment, you held the mix of liquids on your tongue, unsure of what to do as no one had ever spit in your mouth before. You looked up to him with confusion extremely evident in your arched brows.

“Swallow it.” He growled.

The taste of iron and an almost sugary sweet tang of saliva was too strong for you to keep sitting on your tongue, so you did as he told you to before he kissed you again to repeat the same action. Slowly, you got into the rhythm of swallowing what he gave you.

Before long, he simply gave you his tongue, allowing you to suck the saliva from his mouth greedily. You didn’t understand why, but the taste was addicting and adding to the pulsing feeling that radiated between your legs. Were you getting lightheaded? No. This sensation was much more blissful and exciting.

He pulled away after sucking on your wounded lip once more, spitting the mixture into your awaiting mouth for a final time before sitting up to look down at your body.

His venom was already taking effect. He could smell it on your skin as it flowed through your veins and filled your system just like a virus would. It would be simple to turn you at this point. You would be his for eternity, bonded to him in ways only the Fated One of a vampire would. Yoongi shook the thought from his head as he wasn’t even sure that you were, indeed, his.

“What am I to you?” You asked genuinely, swollen lip slightly obstructing your speech.

“Don’t worry about that right now, Y/N. Right now, I am going to fuck you, okay?” He met your gaze with his dark eyes filled with confidence, knowing that you would be unable to deny him if his belief was true.

“Yes. Yes, please Yoongi.” You breathed, begging him almost drunkenly. “Please. I’m yours.”

His mind was nudged forward by a different force this time, warranting unknown instincts to play into action.

He felt his center of gravity shift. His skin grew tight and uncomfortable around his body from the emotion that wished to burst through the surface. He breathed with you. Perfectly aligned were your rhythms; his heart soared alongside your own galloping one, desperate to match you in every aspect. The sensations in his body were difficult to ignore as he felt the ancient and sacred pull of a bond lacing itself through his limbs.

Instead of pondering over the reality of it any further, he slid his hand from your chin to your shirt and pinched the fabric between his fingers. You nodded in reassurance.

Your clothes tore form your body like paper. Wrapping his fingers around your arm to keep your body in place, Yoongi ripped your thin blouse from you easily. Your breasts, made plump by the bra you wore, caught his attention the moment they were revealed. Perfect.

Instead of looking like a moron seeing exquisite breasts for the first time, he moved his hand to your dress pants so that he could rid your body of them. In under ten seconds, Yoongi had you almost bare below him. Perfect.

Not even realizing it until you brought your thumb to his lips to swipe his shi from the corner of his mouth, Yoongi shook his head at the fact that the sight of you wriggling and bare-skinned beneath him made him literally drool, but his instincts went haywire when he watched you place your thumb in your mouth to suck his venom off yourself with a low moan of appreciation at the taste.

Yoongi’s hands couldn’t move faster as he tore the clothes from his body, stripping himself bare to reveal himself to you. He wanted to give you everything. To open his mind and spread everything out for you to see- he hoped you could handle it.

You, on the other hand, were laying below him with the desperate need to have him inside you.

You wanted him everywhere. You wanted him to sink himself into you- it seemed to be the only fathomable option. You wanted him to hold you and kiss you and surround you with everything him.

As you stared up at him with a needy look in your eyes, you couldn’t help but want him in every facet possible.

You saw yourself making love to him, holding him, kissing him- loving him. The new sensation brought on you by the psychic connection- that was all you could call it when you felt the mental attachment- brung passionate emotions through your body in an onslaught that you could barely handle. It was too much to deal with without him inside you to be with you through it yet you didn’t know if you could handle what would follow.

Yoongi could smell you through your panties; a delicious scent of the most raw tease he had ever allowed himself to indulge in. Unable to help himself, he moved down your body quickly, throwing your legs open- rather roughly- to give himself room to press his nose straight into your heat. Your aroma filled his nose as he expanded his lungs, triggering his natural instincts to push out his fangs and load his vision with blood to enhance it despite his eyes being closed. Fuck, he wanted to consume you.

You keened at the contact, closing your thighs around his head to trap him there. You felt his groan vibrate on you, driving you closer to the brink of insanity.

Without any further time wasted, he grabbed onto your panties and ripped them from you to expose your pulsating pussy to his mouth without moving his nose away from your intoxicating scent. Not a beat passed before he dug his tongue into you to scoop up your DNA-laced juices. Fuck.

Yoongi lost himself in you immediately. You whined out a small cry, unable to keep yourself from grabbing onto his hair and yanking when all you felt were his lips and tongue laving over your opening relentlessly. There was no skill nor technique in his movements; he was simply devouring you without a mind to pay attention to your bundle, yet you couldn’t stop the sensitivity from boggling your mind and driving you to an instant orgasm.

His hands squeezed your thighs around his head and, for a brief moment, he opened his eyes to look at you. The color of his eyes staring back at you was unexpected- a solid, snow white color filled his orbs and contrasted starkly with the red hue of his engorged veins and bloodshot scleras.

“Yoongi,” You whimpered from another swipe of his tongue and suck from his lips. “Y-Your eyes.”

He pulled away from you instantly at the comment, eyes widening and wet mouth hanging agape, while you let out a groan of relief- or sadness- at the lack of attention to your incredibly sensitive core.

“What color are they?” He asked.

“White.” You struggled to speak, voice cracking under the post-orgasm glow.

He took a moment to look down at your heaving body and messy pussy, jerking forward slightly at the sight of your delicious juice smeared all over your thighs. Once he had a handle on his thirst again, Yoongi met your eyes as the white faded from his irises. “Then you are her.”

“I’m who?” You reached for him, needing to hold him anywhere you could get your hands on. Yoongi caught this action immediately, the same desire to grasp you evident in his hand rushing to meet yours. It was natural to intertwine your fingers while he leaned over you to press his lips to yours in a short, uncharacteristically loving kiss.

“You are my Fated One- my mate. You hold my soul in the palm of your hand, as I do yours.” He murmured, feathering his lips over yours as he spoke.

Under normal circumstances, you don’t think you’d be able to comprehend his words with your current position with him. You were exposed to him and he was exposed to you, making you feel vulnerable and turned on beyond belief. Yoongi was reaching behind you to unclasp your bra while you took in what he had said. His thumb was brushing over your bare nipple before your bra even hit the floor.

“So-” You had to clear your throat again. “So you’re mine? Like, completely?”

He chuckled warmly at your question and you couldn’t stop yourself from reciprocating the smile.

“Yes, Y/N, I am yours.” He brought his hand down to grip your thigh and move it to the side. “I belong to you.”

Yoongi placed his dick against your folds and you watched him so do. You felt his tip capture onto your clit several times as he lathered it with your arousal languidly, preparing himself so that he could slide into you easier. “However,”

“However?” You looked up at him with a questioning look accentuated by your eyebrows.

“You are also mine.” Yoongi stopped his movement so that the head of his cock finally caught onto your opening, kickstarting your heart into a pace that you were afraid would kill you. “Do you understand that?”

He didn’t wait for you to answer.

Torturously, he began to push inside you. You widened your legs to accompany his approaching hips. As you warbled out a cry when he decided to drop his control and fill you completely in the next second, Yoongi began speaking again.

“Do you understand that everything about you,” He reared back and pushed inside you again, forcing your legs open to take him while he did so. “-is mine?”

You couldn’t respond. Your emotions were running rampant with your mind overflowing from too much stimuli while he fucked you. He spoke again without your reply and you could only pull him closer to you and take the feeling of his cock caressing your insides.

“Your lips,” Thrust. “your eyes,” Thrust. “your hair, your hands, your skin;” He punctuated each part of your body with a ram of his dick into you. “Everything, Y/N.”

Yoongi took a moment to look down at your joining bodies, smirking softly at the sight of how easily he slid inside. “-Especially this greedy little cunt of yours.”

You watched his smirk drop while he bit his lip and ground himself into you, lips parting again with a low moan whilst keeping his gaze transfixed on the sinful sight. You watched him in awe as his cock plunged so deep that it felt like it was in your throat.

He snapped his eyes to yours quickly, repeating his prior question. “Do you understand?”

Expecting to be interrupted by a thrust, you sucked your bottom lip in your mouth and braced yourself, only to be grabbed by the neck while he leaned down to bring you face-to-face. You could no longer breathe as he pulled his lips back to reveal his fangs. “I asked you if you understood, Y/N.”

With your airway restricted, you could only nod with your lip still stuck between your teeth. Did you taste blood? Promptly, you remembered that Yoongi busted your lip, yet you were confused as to why you hadn’t felt the pain of it since he first kissed you.

“And are you okay with that?” Yoongi began to nose his way down your neck once he turned your head to the side and slowed the rhythm of his hips. Right before you could answer, he released your neck to look at your face, allowing a large rush of air to enter your lungs just as you were attempting to give him an answer.

“Yes!” You released your lip to scream out at the welcome sensation of oxygen and the feel of his dick pushing it right back out of you. “I’m yours! Everything is yours!”

“Good, my love. Good.” He whispered, smiling down at you. His smile was wiped clean off his face in a heartbeat, his thrusts into you completely ceased, as he zeroed in on your lips. You licked them subconsciously, immediately tasting blood and internally cringing at the flavor of iron coating your tongue.

Yoongi attached his lips around your bottom one quickly and you felt him suck it into his mouth. Your walls squeezed tightly around his at the sensation of his tongue swiping over the spli in your engorged lip again and again. You knew that your lip would be swollen yet you couldn’t find yourself to care because it, surprisingly, didn’t hurt at all. The small bits of Yoongi’s saliva that slipped into your mouth were enough to keep you on edge, tasting like raw sugar at that point.

He began moving inside you again, starting a slow and steady pace. You whimpered into his mouth as he began taking his fill of your blood and you mirrored his thirst with the need to taste his mouth again. Your lips pressed closer to his in order to, hopefully, get a bit more of his spit.

You felt your orgasm building laggardly. It was creeping in at a speed that you were able to prepare yourself for your ascent towards ecstasy. You tightened your legs around his waist and dug your heels into the globes of his ass, pulling him in.

It wasn’t until you were bordering on your climax that Yoongi pulled away from your lip with your pop and sat up to focus on fucking you, his peace of mind obviously waning.

You saw it in his face; you saw the way he couldn’t control his veins from darkening his face; you saw the way his eyes burned white and the way he was attempting to hold himself back from attacking you.

So you did him a favor.

“Yoongi.” You mumbled past your swollen lip. “Bite me.”

Min Yoongi had no option but to obey your command.

He surged forward, pressing himself against your clit deliciously and bottoming out as he lunged for your neck with his fangs fully protruded and a warbled hiss scratching its way out of his throat. With barely enough time to prepare, you bared your neck to him once more and clutched onto his arms for dear life, hoping it wouldn’t hurt too bad.

What you weren’t expecting was for it to feel unreservedly good.

The sensation took you by surprise, warranting a loud moan to escape from your lips before you could stop it. Why did his fangs feel so good in your flesh? It should definitely be hurting. But all you could do was moan and whine like a madwoman as you felt his lips close over the puncture wounds and begin to drink your blood straight from your flesh. His tongue continuously swiped over the teeth marks in your neck, keeping them clear from your body’s natural ability to scar itself and begin blocking the escaping blood. Every lick he delivered sent a pulse straight to your clit and an automatic instinct to tighten yourself around him.

Your pussy quivered around him uncontrollably. You were so close to cumming that you could practically taste the release on your tongue. In the few moments that Yoongi took his sips from your body, his slow propulsions forward into you had become more rough and insistent- as if he was trying to split you in two. Even as you felt your life essence leave your body, you were being filled time and time again by his cock at a deep and passionate rhythm.

At the first sign of getting lightheaded from blood loss, you came- hard.

Your juices squirted around him every time he reared himself back and your eyes rolled to the back of your head while you craned your neck back into your very-bloody pillow. With no where to go, unable to still him with his supernatural strength, you were only able scream out his name.

His speed increased through your orgasm and your sweet exclamations of pure bliss drove Yoongi into a lunatic, freeing himself of control and using his uncanny speed to fuck into you. Your extremely drenched pussy, still convulsing around him was battered and raw, yet he could not find it in himself to care as he desperately surged into you over and over again so that he could fill you with the cum of several centuries. Picturing the image of your cunt spewing his release from it had him closing his jaws and pulling on your wounds harder to get more blood from you.

He knew that he couldn’t drain you. Hearing the pulse of your heart weaken slightly was enough to make him detach his teeth and lick over your wound so that his shi could assist it in healing- it would be completely sealed and unblemished in the next few hours. Instead of worrying too much about your neck, he reared back to look down at you again while he grabbed onto your hips with fervor.

You saw the drops of blood running down from Yoongi’s mouth and chin drip onto your breasts and stomach, creating an erotic and utterly unwholesome image of carnage and horror on your body, but you were unable to help yourself in feeling unsettlingly drawn to the wicked image. With a new flash of desire exploding through your body and reawakening your lust, you reached up and grabbed his neck, pulling him back down to trap him in your embrace.

The oversensitivity of your last orgasm was enough to send you hurtling to the edge of another orgasm- You just needed his fangs in you one more time. Silently begging for it, you kept your grip on his nape and softly nudged him back in the direction of your neck.

Yoongi was close. You could tell. But even past his stupor, he spoke.

“Y/N. I can’t. I took too much.” He almost whined with need, struggling to form words past his fangs.

“Just-“ Your body jolted wildly as he desperately tried to cum. “Just do it!”

Yoongi was able to deny your command, which he figured was due to not being a specific one, yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave it unanswered as his body built in preparation to release.

“I fucking can’t!” He was close to roaring at this point, gums aching to meet your flesh as he pressed his fangs into you and filled you with his essence. He wanted to so badly.

“Drink from me, dammit!” Your eyes were welling with tears of frustration, needing that small push from him to make you orgasm again- his dick hammering your cervix was too much to handle without that small bit of pain to ground you. And without hesitation nor the choice to deny you, he did.

Your orgasms were perfectly in sync as he placed his fangs back into your wounds, delicious blood spilling across his tongue once again. Liquid life. It was the perfect few words for how you tasted.

Your pussy ached with the force of how tight you squeezed around him and Yoongi groaned lowly against your neck as he pressed himself so tightly to you that you knew his hands would be leaving bruises on your hips and ass.

“Yoongi.” You sobbed as his cum filled you, pulsing spurt after warm spurt of the hot liquid onto your abused cervix. The thought of him taking your blood while he gave you his cum was too sinful for you to bear, an outburst of emotion causing you to chant his name over and over again. Never before in your life had you felt so complete and free.

You could feel your blood levels draining as you slowly came down from your climax, knowing that you would not be awake for much longer if he kept drinking.

“That’s enough.” You whispered tiredly, head becoming truly lightheaded. Yoongi, unable to rescind his teeth from your neck, kept drinking from you as the thirst and aggression of the first mating actuated his movements. “Yoongi.”

He tried to pull away- he really did- but the feeling of your blood coating his tastebuds was like finding a quarry in the middle of the Sahara Desert. He lacked the true thirst for humans for thousands of years- and now he was suffering the polydipsia for blood all over again.

“Yoongi, stop.” You commanded, testing your supposed ‘power.’

Yoongi ceased to drink from you yet his fangs were still embedded in your skin, vibrating with pleasure and need. As he stopped, he couldn’t help but whine and then growl savagely with want. The vibration of of his throaty sound in your flesh did things to your body. Unable to resist the temptation, your body clenched involuntarily around his softening cock.

Yoongi groaned again, retracting his fangs and face from your neck, and sat up once more to look at your body. With a slow hand, he stuck out his index and middle finger to smear the droplets of blood on your stomach in small circles aimlessly, picturing you as a canvas made just for him to ruin. “You’re quite the minx, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean?” You giggled deliriously, needing sleep as soon as possible.

“I mean,” Yoongi reached down to smear a droplet of blood across your hip before digging his thumb and fingers into the bone and the flesh of your ass harshly. “Your cunt is playing games with me right now.”

“How so?” You tilted your head to the side in mock confusion.

The vampire pressed his lips into a thin line and sighed almost disdainfully. You gasped as you felt his dick jerk within you, filling to stiffness once more and awakening a new cloud of lust despite the exhaustion you felt. “Well, if you want to play clueless, you can play clueless. We have eternity to teach you how to not play games with me, my mate.”

For eternity? You kind of liked the sound of that.

~#~

If you’d like to read more of my work, feel free to check out my Series Masterlist! If you’d like to read my first fic, check out the DHYB Masterlist!

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mermaidssonshipss · 5 years ago

Text

scars & bruises

warnings: self-harm, depression, abuse, cursing

word count: 2,916

pairing(s): jj maybank x reader

Your fingers absentmindedly tugged at the edge of your shorts, pulling them over your thighs as you sat down on the beat up lawn chair. Your friends were sat around a small fire, all of them nursing a beer and laughing at some story JJ was telling. You smiled here and there, your eyes gazing out across the ocean in front of you tuning JJ’s words out, missing the way his blue eyes watched you closely with every word he spoke.

The day had been spent out on the HMS Pogue as it usually was, but your mind was far from the water. Just the night before, your step-father, Bill, had come home from work angrier than he had been in weeks, his fists and feet flying into your stomach leaving you covered in bruises. He knew to avoid your face, arms, and legs, as he knew you lived on the ocean, it was inevitable that those parts of your skin would make an appearance, which meant your stomach and back were usually the victims of his fury. For as long as the Pogue’s had known you, which was over 5 years ago when you moved there, they had never seen you in a bikini. Kie had brought it up to you before, wondering why, with a body like yours, you didn’t show it off. Not only did you always have a one-piece on, though you tried to always make sure it fit your chest perfectly so you had something to show off, you never took off whatever pair of your shorts you had on over it. You had simply shrugged and said it was how you felt most comfortable, and the topic was dropped. Your thighs were painted with various shades of self-inflicted scars, some new, some old, some healing, and you had managed to keep it a secret for as long as you had done it.

“Yo, earth to y/n,” Pope’s voice called, your head snapping from the ocean and to the direction of the group that was now watching you intently.

“Sorry, just really tired today,” it was a lame excuse, but you were tired somewhat, your stomach aching from the night before with every breath you took had taken a lot out of you.

“Go into the guest room, take a nap,” JJ spoke, his head darting towards the chateau, concern filling his eyes.

“He just wants to get you in his bed, don’t do it. Next thing you know you’ll wake up to him staring at you with his dick in his hand,” John B snorted, shoving JJ’s shoulder. The group laughed and JJ sent a punch into John B’s arm, muttering a quiet “Shut the fuck up” at the brunette haired boy.

“As tempting as that entire scenario sounds,” you chucked softly, pushing yourself off the chair flinching slightly as the pain got worse with every move, “I have to get home.” You saluted the group as they all sent you goodbyes, your figure retreating as you began your walk home.

***

“You’re late,” your mom spoke the second you walked through the front door, the clock on the wall reading 12:02. You had promised you’d be home by 12.

“By two minutes,” you whispered, your eyes darting around the living room looking for your step-father.

“Just hurry up the stairs, be quiet, and he won’t notice,” your mom rushed, her hands pushing you up the stairs to avoid your step-fathers anger.

The second your feet carried you into your room, you quietly shut the door behind you and let out the breath you had been holding. You quickly made your way into the bathroom attached to your room, stripping out of the shorts and swimsuit you had worn, your eyes falling to the mirror in-front of you. Tears slowly streamed down your cheeks as you looked at the deep bruises littering your stomach, a quiet sob reaching your throat as your fingers traced the fresh cuts on your thighs, your nails digging into them to re-open the wounds. When that wasn’t enough, you reached for the fresh razor you had stashed behind your shower curtain.

***

A week had passed since you last saw the Pogues. Your stepfather had lost his shit one night when you accidentally dropped a plate and broke it, and for the first time, his fist had collided with your face. He had continued his rage everyday after that, though once he saw the bruise covering your face he remembered to avoid the area. You were in too much pain to pretend like you were fine and run around with the Pogues, so you simply ignored them, or sent lame excuses back to them as to why you couldn’t show up. Bill had taken a break last night, letting your body heal, and though the bruise on your face was still nasty, covering your jaw and half of your cheek, you decided you needed to make an appearance before they decided to come to you.

Your black boot clad feet stepped into the chateau, a pair of tight ripped jeans covering your legs and one of JJ’s long-sleeved shirts adorning your upper half.

JJ had been the one in the friend group you gravitated towards the most when you were first being welcomed into the group. Your personalities matched well, and you balanced him out when he would get angry and try to start a fight. The truth about his dad had come out maybe a year into knowing him, and you had made it your mission to take care of JJ, to show him what it was like to be loved and cared for. You weren’t dating, though everyone on their side of the island had bets on when it would happen, but you were definitely in love with the blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy; you would never tell him though, just as you could never tell him the truth about what was going on in your home, or your own mind. He had too much to worry about on his own.

“Y/N!” John B spotted you first, his eyes widening as he jumped off the couch and ran towards you, his body slamming into yours as he gave you a tight hug. You took in a sharp breath at the impact, wrapping your arms around him anyway and ignoring the pain. Soon, the others, minus JJ, had joined and were wrapping you up, kisses being placed all over your face. None of them had noticed the bruise yet, too caught up in just seeing you to notice. Except for JJ.

“What happened to your face?” JJ’s jaw was clenched as he stood up, the Pogues now pulling away and taking a look at what JJ saw, their eyes widening. Kie brought her hand up and rested it on your cheek, causing you to flinch away.

“Nice to see you too, JJ,” you laughed half-heartedly, but none of them laughed along. JJ was now standing in front of you, his eyes scanning your figure. His hand reached out, tugging at your-his, shirt, his eyes locking with yours. He knew you had this shirt, you had stolen it from him years ago, but it would magically turn up here and there in his room, and he knew you left it for him to wear and wash so when you stole it again, it smelt like him, but he also knew you only wore it when you wanted to feel safe. You had told him before that he was the only person on this island that made you feel safe, and when you couldn’t be with him, you wore his shirt to feel like you were with him.

“Seriously, what happened?” Kie’s voice was quiet as she grabbed your hand lightly, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Guys, seriously, it’s okay. I’m just clumsy. Always have been. Fell on the way home the other night,” you were looking at JJ as you spoke, his hand still clutching onto the shirt you were wearing. The others nodded, believing the story, but JJ knew better.

“Bullshit,” he snapped, tugging you closer to him, his free hand coming up to stroke your cheek lightly. Instead of flinching as you had with Kie, you leaned into his touch. He looked at you for a moment, and that’s when it clicked. The reason you never wore a bikini, or shied away from touch and flinched when someone touched your stomach a certain way. His jaw tensed even more, if that was possible, and his hand moved from your shirt to your hand that Kie was holding, wrapping around your wrist and yanking you away from the group and into the guest room, you stumbled after him, sending the other Pogues an apologetic smile before you were out of sight and the door was closed.

“JJ,” you sighed as he closed the door, pushing you onto the edge of the bed so you were sitting and he was standing over you.

“In the 5 years we’ve known you, you have never just... disappeared like that before. We were all worried sick, Y/N, I was worried sick. And then you pop up with a nasty bruise on your face and just expect us, or me to accept “I’m clumsy!” and move on? They might’ve fallen for that, but I know you better than that” He was talking fast, his hands on his hips as he stared straight at you. All you could do was sit and listen, your fingers pulling the long-sleeves of his shirt over your hands, trying to shrink into the fabric.

“JJ... please...” Your voice was quiet, your eyes trained on his sock-clad feet as tears were threatening to spill.

JJ let out a quiet groan before shuffling over next to you, his body weight dipping the bed down as he sat down next to you, your own body slightly falling into his.

“It’s Bill, isn’t it?” His voice was a whisper as he spoke, his eyes trained on the way your body flinched at the mention of your step-dads name. Lying to JJ had never come easy to you, not as easy as lying to everyone else did, and you knew there was no point in trying in this moment. He knew, and you were just so tired of pretending. Your head nodded slightly, and JJ’s hand came to rest on the bottom of your thigh, giving it a comforting squeeze. When you looked at him, his jaw was clenched, as it had been pretty much since you walked in, and his blue eyes were the darkest you’d ever seen them; he was mad... no, he was pissed.

“I need you to promise me you won’t go and do anything stupid,” your hand covered his on your thigh, your fingers lacing through his from the top.

“Take the shirt off,” was his only response as he slipped his hand out of yours and stood up once again in front of you.

“What?” You were taken aback by the request, your eyes snapping to him.

“I want to see your stomach,” his reply was simple, the tone of his voice clipped with every word.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” the bruises on your stomach and back were brutal, worse than ones you’d ever gotten considering they had been layered on over the week. While JJ was tall and muscular, he wasn’t a 55 year old man with years of weight and muscle on him; he wouldn’t stand a chance against Bill, and you knew he would try and do something stupid.

“Take the fucking shirt off, Y/N. You always see me after Luke does his work and help fix me up,” his voice trailed off and you could see he was holding back tears. Standing up from the bed, your shaking fingers gripped the ends of your shirt, and you took a deep breath before ripping it off.

“Jesus Christ,” JJ muttered, his eyes taking in your newly exposed skin, the bruises spanning across the beautiful skin he’d longed to see since he met you. His feet shuffled against the floor as he moved closer to you, his hand reaching out and slowly tracing over your stomach, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you worrying about me, you have enough going on...” tears were freely spilling down his cheeks now, his eyes snapping to yours.

“I always worry about you, but I could’ve... fuck I could’ve protected you!” He had stepped back now, his fingers tugging at his hair as his voice had risen.

“No, you couldn’t have. No one can, JJ,” you rushed to him, grabbing his hands from his hair and forcing him to look at you, “And I swear to god if you go out and try and do something stupid and you get yourself killed I will bring you back to life and kill you again. I need you, JJ.”

I need you rang through JJ’s ears, his gaze softening. Until he had met you, he never truly felt like he understood what love was. What being cared about meant. Of course, he had the Pogues, and they all loved each other in their own way, but you had tugged on JJ’s heart the moment he saw your smile. You noticed things about him that no one else did, and you always made sure to keep an eye on him. Since he’d met you, he’d gotten himself in a lot less trouble than before you were around, simply because you were the only person who could successfully talk him down. He was in love with you, and that scared him shitless. The fact that you had been suffering for years without him noticing made him want to rip his heart out of his own chest.

Hours had passed, and the rest of the Pogues had gone home, John B retreating into his own room. You and JJ lay in his bed, his fingers running through your hair absentmindedly. He had promised he wouldn’t go after Bill, but he also made you promise not to go home tonight. He tried to make you promise to never go home, but just as him, you couldn’t make that promise.

“Can I ask you a question?” His voice was raspy as it broke through the quiet room, as you two had favored just laying in silence.

“Mhm,” you hummed in response, turning your head to face him.

“Why do you always wear shorts? I get not showing your stomach now, but...” he trailed off, and your breath caught in your throat at the question.

“I...” the words failed to come out, your fingers tracing over the top of your thighs over your jeans. You shook your head and pushed yourself off the bed, figuring it was much easier to show him. You unbuttoned your jeans, causing JJ to sit up and watch you intently as you pushed the fabric down your legs, stepping out of them. He didn’t notice it right away, his eyes wandering over your skin thoughtfully, but then he saw it. Hundreds of scars littered the delicate skin as well as fresh cuts on top of old ones. He wrapped his arms around your thighs and tugged you in-between his legs, his fingers tracing a few of the new marks.

“Please promise me you will never do this to yourself again. And if you feel like it I need to know you’ll call me. I don’t care what time it is, I will be there in a heartbeat,” he was leaning his forehead against your stomach now, lightly, so he didn’t upset the bruises, and your fingers started carding themselves through his hair.

“I promise,” the words were shaky as you spoke them, but you meant them. You had expected him to look at you with disgust, to say you were fucked up and that you needed help, but those words never came from his mouth.

JJ pulled you back down on the bed, his arms wrapping around you tightly as he pressed you to his body as tight as he possibly could.

Your nose brushed against his lightly, the breath between you two mingling and becoming one. His hand was trailing across your leg, his fingers lightly tracing the skin raising goosebumps as he passed. Eventually, his hand was resting on your neck, tilting your face even closer to his, his lips brushing over yours in a soft caress. Your eyes closed softly, your lips capturing his bottom lip between yours. The grip he had on your neck tightened at the action before he finally pressed his lips atop yours fully, pulling you into a kiss that had both of your hearts racing. You had dreamt about what it would feel like to kiss JJ Maybank since you’d met him, but never in a million years did you think it would feel this good. This right. You melted into each other, the kiss becoming more passionate until you were both forced to pull apart, needing to breathe, but as soon as you had taken a breath his lips were back on yours.

“I love you,” he muttered the words against your lips, causing you to pull away slightly, resting your forehead against his.

“I love you, more than anything.”

“We’re gonna get through this together, I promise you.” His lips were on yours once more, his arms surrounding you, and for the first time since you could even remember, you felt safe.

#JJ Maybank x reader #JJ Maybank imagines #Outer Banks imagines #Rudy Pankow imagines #JJ Maybank #Outer Banks

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harringrovetrashrat · 4 years ago

Text

I Want It To Be You

(done as a commission for a friend)

Billy wasn’t totally sure how to bring it up.

He and Steve had been dating a while now, spending pretty much all their free time together. Billy’s roommate had been shocked to see him sleeping in his loft last week, for once not in Steve’s single. But who could blame him? Steve was perfect.

Steve had whirled into Billy’s life, put him in his place, and pulled Billy into a whirlwind romance of sorts. If you could call sucking Billy’s dick in the backyard of a frat house romantic. And Billy could, personally. Not only was Steve perfect personality wise, sweet but with fire, he was the best lay Billy’d ever had in his life. He sucked dick like a pro, and Billy was pretty sure Steve’s hole was heaven. Plus, his thighs were soft as hell and he made the sweetest sounds.

But Billy was curious.

Steve had been King Steve in high school, according to his friend Tommy. He’d stopped by for a weekend, hanging out with Billy when Steve had to go off for an appointment. They’d gotten stoned waiting for him, finding it easier to talk to each other with the haze around them.

“God, you should have heard these girls,” Tommy drawled, grinning. “Oh, Steve was so good, he treated me so well. Steve is so handsome, he’s the only guy I ever wanna fuck again. He railed me into next week, I’ve never had dick so good --” He cut himself off with a snicker as Billy scowled. “I assume you agree.” Billy shifted, suddenly uncomfortable.

“I mean, I wouldn’t know,” he said. Tommy turned his head, letting it fall to the side to look at Billy, one eyebrow raised. “He’s always bottomed with me.”

“Huh,” Tommy said. “Not that that’s weird or anything, he loves a good dicking--”

“Do you think he thinks I think he wants to bottom so he never asked?” Billy said, worried. Steve was proud, was out, but Billy knew he’d had trouble with boyfriends in the past. Boys who couldn’t see past Steve’s parts to who he actually was. Who let that dictate how they saw him. Billy liked to top, loved the feeling of someone squeezing around him, but he’d been curious about bottoming. Wondered how it felt.

Steve had never suggested it, so Billy hadn’t thought to bring it up. But now…

“Imma need you to repeat that,” Tommy said. “I’m too stoned to follow whatever that was.”

“Like,” Billy smacked his lips, leaning forward to take a few gulps of water. “Like do you think Steve is bottoming ‘cause he thinks he has to? ‘Cause like, it’s great, don’t get me wrong but…” Tommy nodded, patting Billy’s shoulder.

“Steve doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to. Not after his last boyfriend. Honestly, he’d kinda shied away from guys for a while, so I was surprised when he mentioned you.” Tommy smiled, soft and gentle. “He really likes you, you know. Thinks you’re the bees knee .” Billy rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hide his blush. “You know, you could just ask him about it.”

“Shut up,” Billy replied, smiling as Steve entered his dorm. He paused, eyebrow raising.

“You two having fun?” He shut the door, placing the towel Tommy and Billy had forgotten about into the crack at the bottom.

They’d all smoked together after and Billy had forgotten the conversation until later. Until he was laying down to sleep and it all came back. He had laid there, wide awake, listening to his roommate snore, thinking about Steve. About Steve fucking him with his long fingers, slow and sensual. About Steve fucking him with a dildo, going all King on him the way Billy would never admit got him going better than anything else. He’d come embarrassingly fast at the idea of riding Steve.

Now all he had to do was ask.

But he still couldn’t get the words out. Couldn’t find a way to bring it up that didn’t make him sweat a little. Didn’t make his stomach do flops.

It was fitting then, that he blurted it out while Steve was talking about his English homework.

“What’s it like bottoming?” Billy said, wincing as his voice came out more of a shout than he’d like. Steve just blinked, eyebrows shooting up.

“It’s nice,” Steve said, slowly. “Kinda weird at first, but, I mean, it eventually feels really good.” Steve trailed his fingers along Billy’s arm lightly, making goosebumps rise on his arms. “Not that I don’t wanna talk about it or anything, but why?” Billy blushed, looking away and chewing on his thumb with a shrug.

“Tommy mentioned that you uh, you had a reputation at school--”

“Tommy running his mouth again,” Steve groaned. “That fucking--”

“And I kinda wanted to try it? With you?” Billy couldn’t look at Steve. “I’ve never really trusted anyone enough, but I’m curious and you’re supposedly really good, and--”

“Whoa whoa,” Steve said, grabbing Billy’s cheeks and turning his face so he could look Steve in the eye. Steve’s eyes were wide, pupils blown, a light flush on his cheeks. “Are you serious? You really-- I mean I figured you’d rather top.” Billy shrugged.

“I like topping, but I mean… I’ve never tried bottoming before and I’d really kinda like it to be you. That tops me. First.” Steve inhaled sharply through his nostrils, catching his bottom lip with his teeth, slowly letting it pop out.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Yeah. Yeah let’s-- Let’s plan a night.”

“We can’t just--”

“We’re gonna be fully sober, Billy,” Steve said. “And there’s kinda some prep that goes into bottoming for you.” Billy nodded, smiling at Steve. Wonderful, lovely Steve. Steve took a deep breath, rubbing his thumb along Billy’s cheek. “You’re such a dream,” and he crooked his mouth in a grin, and Billy swallowed thickly. He didn’t know what to say. No one had ever called him that before. Instead, he pulled Steve in for a kiss.

It was Saturday morning and Billy was anxious. He’d prepped, he’d cleaned, but he hadn’t stretched, wanting Steve to be the one to do that. Wanted desperately to know what those fingers felt like inside him. Billy shook his head, shifting awkwardly and ignoring his half chub, hoping it would go away. He still had time before going to Steve’s, so he ran to the coffee shop on campus and grabbed himself a breakfast sandwich and black coffee, as well as a dnaish and fancy sweet drink for Steve. The line was longer than he’d have liked, too close to finals for it to be as empty as usual for a Saturday, and he had to run for Steve’s dorm by the time he had paid and gotten the drinks and food.

Steve yanked the door open when Billy arrived, smiling when he held out the coffee and bag of delicious pastry.

“Good, we’ll need the energy.” Billy smirked as Steve turned, heading back into his dorm. Steve had a single, which Billy was always grateful for. They never had to worry about being quick or quiet. Well, quiet for a roommate. Billy was positive Steve’s neighbors hated him. Luckily, he gave absolutely no fucks.

“So,” Billy began, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip. “I did what you said. Everything is clean.” Steve smiled at him, tucking his head down to give Billy a sweet, chaste kiss.

“You’re so cute,” he said. Billy huffed.

“I think the word you’re looking for is sexy. Unbearably hot. An absolute fucking sex god--”

“Oh my god,” Steve laughed. “Fine, fine. You’re the sexiest man alive. And also the cutest.” Billy tried to bite back his smile, but it was hard. Steve shifted nervously from foot to foot before pulling out a tub from under his bed. Billy’s eyes widened when he set it on the bed and opened it up.

He’d never seen so many sex toys in his life.

“Damn,” he breathed, reaching out and grabbing a monster of a dildo, blue and ribbed. Steve blushed a little, scratching the back of his head. Billy sat down on the bed, looking through the box. Steve sat on the other side.

“I’ve been growing this since like, high school. So I have a lot.” He dug around, pulling out what looked like a harness.

“What’s that?”

“So, here.” Steve dug around in the box, grabbing a flesh colored dildo of pretty average size. He connected it to the front of the harness. “This is the strap. Makes it so I can fuck you properly,” he said, smirking a little. Billy swallowed, feeling something churn in his belly. Something warm and good. Steve bit his lip, setting the strap down and crawling forward, pressing Billy onto the bed. Billy let his head hit the pillow, gazing up at Steve as he hovered above him. “If I do anything that hurts or that you don’t like, you tell me, okay?” The genuine concern and care in Steve’s eyes was way more overwhelming than the idea of a dick in his ass. Billy swallowed thickly and nodded.

“Yeah,” he rasped hoarsely. Steve smiled, soft and kind, and swooped down for a kiss. He gently licked into Billy’s mouth, making him sigh contentedly. Billy slowly heated up the kiss, sucking on Steve’s tongue and biting his lip. Steve groaned, grinding his hips down. Billy had been half hard since this morning, and the friction was delightful, making him gasp. Steve took the chance to roll his tongue in Billy’s mouth, moving to kiss down his neck as Steve’s hips rolled, grinding slow and steady against Billy. They moved against each other, breathing each other’s air, until Billy couldn’t take it. The feel of Steve against him, sweat pants damp from how wet he surely was, was too much. He was already close. “Steve, baby, please--” Steve groaned and pulled back, moving from on top of Billy. Billy rolled over, pushing up onto his elbows and knees. “ Please.”

“Holy shit,” Steve breathed as Billy gave a cheeky grin, despite his blush. He moved so he could see Steve, bangs falling in sweaty pieces across his forehead, cheeks and lips flushed. Billy bit his lip. His nerves were settling now as it got closer, overwhelmed by the anticipation and excitement. Steve slowly pulled Billy’s shorts down, inhaling sharply when he realized Billy was going commando. It wasn’t different than usual, but it never failed to get Steve riled up. He cupped Billy’s cheeks, kneading them as if in a trance, pulling them open to stare at Billy’s hole. It made him shiver.

“Come on, Harrington,” he purred. Steve fumbled for the lube, squirting some onto Billy’s crack. He hissed at the cold, though his skin quickly warmed it up. Steve rubbed it around his hole, breath loud, before squirting some on his fingers.

“One first, okay?” Steve said. Billy harrumphed and stuck his ass out. Steve laughed, biting his lip as he teased Billy’s rim. He prodded gently, sweetly, pushing in to the first knuckle, wiggling, and finally pushing in more. Billy’s breath hitched and he closed his eyes. It was different. A feeling he wasn’t used to. But it wasn’t bad. Steve pushed his finger in and out, wiggling it before curling. Billy’s toes curled and he gasped a little, pushing back against Steve’s finger. Now that was fucking nice. Steve gently rubbed for a minute before pulling his finger out. Billy whined. “Oh my god,” Steve chuckled. “You’re so horny for it.” Billy stuck out his tongue, ignoring how hot his face felt.

“Like you’re any better!” Billy propped himself up, putting on his slutty Steve face. “Billy, oh Billy please! Lemme cum, I wanna cum, just touch me!” Billy yelped, letting out a long moan as Steve sunk two fingers into him, giving his ass a slap.

“Dunno that you should be making fun of the guy with his fingers up your ass, babe,” Steve said. “Dunno that I like it when you get all sassy when I’m just trying to make you feel good.” He slapped Billy’s ass again. Billy grunted and his dick jumped.

“Shit,” he hissed. Steve kissed the small of his back.

“Just wait till I find your prostate, sweets.” His voice was commanding, but sweet. It made Billy wanna listen, wanna follow his rules, wanna-- Wanna worship him.

“Oh?” Billy panted. “This the King Steve I’ve heard so much about?” Steve grinned, scissoring his fingers. Billy pushed back, sighing against the stretch. It felt good. They moved together, Steve alternating between scissoring and just pistoning his fingers in and out.

“God, you’re gonna be so tight, baby,” Steve hummed, kissing along Billy’s spine. “You’re gonna love when I fuck you. I’m gonna start slow until you can’t stand it, show you just how good you make me feel.” Billy shuddered, moaning against the sheets. Steve added more lube, and a third finger. “You’re taking these so good. Shit, Billy. Being so good for your King.” Billy grinned as his dick kicked, and he pushed back against the fingers. After a moment, he curled his fingers just so, making Billy violently twitch. He let out a loud moan, biting the meat of his palm to quiet himself.

“Fuck,” Billy gasped. Steve had paused, and when Billy turned to look, his eyes were wide and his jaw dropped.

“Wow,” Steve breathed. He pulled his fingers out, standing up and shedding his sweats and boxers. Billy could see how wet, how excited he was as he pulled on the strap, moving to get behind Billy. “You think you’re ready?” He slapped Billy’s ass again, getting a low groan, rolling a condom onto the dildo and lubing it up. Steve rubbed the dick along Billy’s crack.

“Fuck me, Steve,” Billy growled. “For fucks sake.” Steve huffed, rolling his eyes.

“You’re so demanding. If I recall correctly, I’m giving you the King Steve treatment, not the Follow Billy’s Rules treatment.” And before Billy could reply, he slipped in, slowly pushing in the head before pausing, giving Billy time to adjust, before slowly pressing in again. Billy’s jaw dropped and he pushed back, drool dripping out of the corner of his mouth.

“Oh my god,” he whined. Steve licked his lips, smirking.

“Yeah? You like my dick that much, Hargrove? You should see the others.” Billy shuddered as Steve bottomed out. Billy swallowed, panting wetly against the sheets.

“Yeah,” Billy moaned, feeling so full and content. “Fuck yeah.” Steve moved his hips out slowly, leaning forward to kiss Billy’s shoulders and down his spine, sucking hickies between his shoulders. Billy was shaking under him, grasping the sheets tightly in his fists.

“Fuck, baby,” Steve groaned. “I wanna see your face. You okay moving positions?” Billy nodded, biting down on a whine when Steve pulled out. Gentle hands guided him onto his back, hair like a sweaty halo around him. Steve looked down, so beautiful and fucking hot. Everything Billy could ever dream of. He pulled Billy up by the back of his knees, maneuvering them over his shoulders and slipping back in slowly, breathing heavy and pointed. Billy gasped, throwing his head back as he reached up and clamped a hand on Steve’s shoulder. Steve grinned down at him, brown hair damp and hanging around his face.

“Liked that, huh?” Steve purred, slowly pulling back out. Billy couldn’t do much but pant, hand clenching at Steve’s pale skin as he felt the dick slide out. His brain was melted goo, struck dumb by the feeling of Steve pressing into him again, keeping his pace aggravatingly slow and steady. “Fuck,” he whispered, kissing along the column of Billy’s neck. Billy closed his eyes, almost overwhelmed. “You look so good, baby, stretched around me like this.” Billy could feel himself blushing, but he knew the feeling of watching your cock sink into your lover, and his dick kicked, wondering if he looked as good as Steve did.

“Shit, Stevie,” Billy groaned as Steve bottomed out again, pausing in his movements. “Fuck, baby…” Steve shifted, moving forward so he could press deeper into Billy. The harness of the strap rubbed against Billy’s skin, creating a wonderful addition of pleasure to the feeling of being so full. Billy breathed deep, biting his bottom lip as Steve pulled out again, still going maddeningly slow. “Come on,” Billy whined, trying to move his hips so he could speed things up. “Fuck me like you mean it! Like King Steve would-- Fuck!” Billy hadn’t even finished his sentence when Steve smirked, smug and cocky, before slamming his hips back in. His pace was almost brutal, their skin slapping together as he pistoned in and out. Billy forgot what words were, mind blanking as Steve shifted and hit his prostate. He got so much deeper at this angle. And Billy could watch him, see him come apart. Billy moaned, low and rumbly, biting his lips to try and keep from making too much noise. The bed itself rattled against the wall of Steve’s dorm, probably pissing off the neighbors, but fuck them. Billy was getting fucked within an inch of his life, they could suck his dick.

Well, not actually. He’d much prefer if Steve did that.

“You’re so beautiful,” Steve murmured, hand running down Billy’s chest before moving back up to tweak his nipples. The other hand stayed on Billy’s hip, gripping tightly. He slowed his pace down, pulling out with care before snapping his hips back in. Each snap of his hips, each slap of skin, each squelch of lube, sent jolts straight to Billy’s dick. It leaked against his stomach and he arched into Steve’s touch, eyes snapping open, though he barely saw anything. “My beautiful guy,” Steve sighed, leaning down to kiss Billy as he buried his dick deep inside, keeping his hips flush to Billy’s ass. It made his back arch and he reached for his dick, jerking himself rapidly. “Yeah,” Steve breathed, kissing Billy’s neck sloppily, tongue leaving a trail along his collar bone. “Cum for me, sweetheart,” he whispered into Billy’s ear. He licked the lobe, giving it a bite. Billy arched, crying out as he came, shooting up his stomach and chest. He gasped loudly, groaning low and long as he stripped his cock, sperm dripping out and onto his stomach, slicing down to pool in between his pecs. Steve pulled out slowly, lowering Billy down before licking at the cooling sperm on his skin. He slurped it up, loud and obnoxious, just like Billy liked. Billy shuddered, licking his lips and pulling Steve up for a kiss. Steve hummed into his mouth before pulling back. He swiftly removed the strap, climbing into bed and pulling Billy against his chest.

“Wow,” Billy said, voice raspy from how loud he’d gotten. He never made that much noise but, well, that was Steve. “That was just-- Wow.” Steve smiled, kissing the back of Billy’s neck.

“You’d wanna do it again?” Steve asked, sounding a little vulnerable.

“Honestly, gimme a few hours, and I’ll be ready.” Steve laughed, loud and bright, before pulling Billy even closer, matching grins on their faces.

#harringrove #steve harrington #Billy Hargrove #trans steve harrington #lemon #zesty #tommy h #tommy hagan #just a lil at the beginning #first time bottoming

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flashbang-througthe-door · 3 years ago

Text

Untitled

A/n: this is a Lear/Hudson fic...I was curious...if your reading this that means I actually posted it and I'm sorry, also why is this like my magnum opus

Lear/Hudson

Tw: Swearing, smoking, a description of being left for dead

implied past relationship between Lear and Hudson

Description: The others left Lear and Hudson alone in a foolish attempt make them get along but something else happens

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Lear and Hudson were left alone in the safe house in an attempt to make them get along, but it was hitting an interesting moment. The two men one leaning against the desk in front of the office the other leaning against the evidence board puffing away on a cigarette. To an untrained eye, they looked like they were staring at each other but to anyone who knows these two would know this is a staring contest. Whoever lost would hear about it for days. "Giving up Italy?" "Not on your life America...." Lear responses neither of them had blinked yet.

Hudson starts heading towards Lear still not blinking "Hey, remember no touching it's not fair" Lear reminds Hudson, who gave a slight nod remembering the few rules they set. "You remember when we first met?" Lear asks he missed the time back then "Eh, Italy right?..... Florence....that uh" Hudson tried to think back to the place "The abandoned church...your government wanted me, they sent you and a few agents I ran into the church after uhhh" Now Lear couldn't remember what happened before the church "You tried to throw us off by throwing your shirt into the water" Hudson reminds Lear right as he blinked. "Ow, hm...yeah by the time you and your lackeys got to me...I was almost out the window" Lear's eyes stung a bit "Why do we always fight?" "Because it's all we know anymore" Lear recalled being handcuffed and dragged out kicking and screaming, Hudson wasn't much help at that time. "Right..." Hudson took his sunglasses off and rubs his face "I feel like I shou-" "I don't want to talk about it anymore" "See then you shut down" "I just don't want to talk about" "you never want to talk about it" Hudson growls and Lear chuckles "Italy? Or after the fact?" Lear lights a new cigarette blowing the smoke into Hudson's face "Both, whenever I bring it up...you completely shut down or we squabble about who's more useless, why?" Hudson inquires then waves his hand getting the smoke out of his face. "Because what happened leading up to you and your barbarians catching me for that mission...and after that..." Lear shakes his head "I woke up in a dumpster...bleeding out. Adler saved my life when you were busy with someone else...in that office...we were perfect but when I needed you the most you weren't there for me" He felt tears starting to come up he walked away from Hudson it was wasn't the best time to recall. Sure the time they worked together before this was nice they got along with each other too....even dated for a bit, but like most good things it ended. Time became timeless and the others weren't back yet. Lear was writing down some info he found out and tacked it to the board he and Hudson weren't talking yet. After Italy was brought up the memories came back to both of them.

Hudson was in the office going over some files trying to keep himself busy but every once in a while out of the corner of his eye he would see Lear walk by. He was wondering what the other was up to, but he had done enough damage for today. He honestly felt bad for Italy and what followed after.

Flashback, Florence, Italy

Lear was racing away from a group of agents one being Hudson. Lear quickly lost them in a quicker attempt to throw them off he yanked his shirt off threw it into the river. He bolted down a barely used path cuts and scrapes on his body, his raven black hair was messy and there were some sticks and leaves in his hair. His brown eyes barely took in the area around him but he quickly chooses paths and ended up in the abandoned church. Against his better judgment, he ran into the church climbing up the stairs he heard the others crashing into the church. "Fuck me" he mumbles starting to climb out the window but arms went around his waist and threw him to the floor. "Hudson, up here we got him" One of the agents call out putting their boot on Lear's back pinning him down. "Vincent Russo, You're in the custody of the United States government. You will help us" Hudson kneels next to Lear "Help you? Fuck that!" Lear spits at Hudson and misses "You will help us, whether you want to or not" Hudson sighs handcuffing Lear and slowly taking him to the helicopter "Stop! Struggling" Hudson tried to get a better grip on Lear but it was very difficult because Lear was kicking and screaming.

End of flashback

Hudson heard a loud set of thumps coming from outside of the office. "...what the fuuuu" he walked out to find Lear laying on the floor with the punching bag on top of him. "You uh...hehe...you okay down there?" He chuckles crossing his arms watching Lear struggle "No, I'm not okay" he mutters trying to get the bag off of himself "I think we've been here before Vincent" Hudson kneels next to Lear "You pinned to the floor, me winning..." Hudson chuckles now sitting next to Lear "Hey...Jason..." "Hey Vincent" "what happened to us?" "Uh...well" Hudson rubs his neck he pushed the punching bag off Lear and thought about it "Well you didn't make the car ride to D.c easy" he points watching Lear sit up "Did you really think that I'd make it easy?" Lear sighs looking at Hudson put his hand on the other's shoulder "I owe you a car window...I remember that..." He chuckles softly "And a rearview mirror" Hudson adds "Wait was I really that bad?" "Well...if you remember..."

Flashback

"Jason, you sure you want to take him alone?" "Yeah, how bad can this be? He's still asleep" Hudson chuckles softly and gets in the car this was going to be a long ride. As time passed and Lear slowly woke up of course was groggy. "Where are we?" He mumbles slowly sits up "West Virginia" Hudson answers turning the radio down as Psycho Killer started playing. "Mhm..." Lear lays on his back starting to slam his feet against the window. "WHAT! KINDA GOVERNMENT AGENT TAKES MY SHOES! KEEPS ME HANDCUFFED! AND DIDN'T GIVE ME A SHI-" Lear stopped shouting once his feet went through the window. "Come on, Vincent calm down" Hudson pulls over and turns the car off making sure the back doors were locked before turning fully around in his seat. Hudson stared at Lear, who was shifting positions to get a good angle for his next kicking fit. "Your bleeding" "uh-huh" "You'll need stitches" "Uh-huh" "What are you doing?" "Uh-huh" "Vincent!!!" now not only was Hudson out a window he was now out of a rearview mirror "That's it" he climbs into the back and took his tie off using it to tie Lear's feet together.

End of flashback

Lear rubs his neck looking down as he lights a new cigarette "I fucking hate it here, it's so cold" he pulls his knees to his chest "Here" Hudson did something that hadn't happened in a long time, he pulled Lear into his lap resting his head against the others back. "In the forest after we lost contact...me and the team went to do the mission...we got caught under a lot of fire and..." Lear stops for a second putting his hands on top of Hudson's. "I got the bright idea to cause a distraction...it worked surprisingly, the plan I did worked...but I was caught and tortured..." With each part of the story, Hudson could feel Lear shake worse and worse "If you don't w-" "I need to tell someone" Lear collects his thoughts "I didn't know what fucking day it was...some grunt of Perseus...didn't like the answers I was giving so she...or he, I don't remember...they had a mask on...poured gas on my chest and lit it up" Lear was pouring tears but he wasn't finished "I got the shit kicked out of me when they tried to put the fire out...I'm so lucky....to have lived" he was done talking now exhausted he felt Hudson shift him so he could rest his head on Hudson's chest. "I didn't know, I should have done more to help you" Hudson was trying to comfort Lear but he hadn't done it in so long it was almost like he forgot, but it slowly came back to him remembering that Lear liked it when he ran his finger through his hair. So gently Hudson ran his finger through Lear's hair whispering comforting words as the door swung open. "I'm telling you there is almost n-" Adler stopped dead in his tracks as Bell bumps into him "What?...oh" Bell watches from behind Adler. "Woods owes me fifty bucks" Adler had a huge grin on his face, for two reasons one, he was going to be fifty bucks richer but secondly, because seeing Lear and Hudson cuddling meant no more fighting for now.

#lear #hudson #lear/hudson #why #why did i even write this #i should have kept it in my head #why did i share this with the world?#why do i kinda like this ship #Look i wrote hudson being nice #why isthis some of my best writing?#adler #male bell #we love them #the bis

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dilfbane · 4 years ago

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Nervous(Your Blood On Fire) - Dhawan!Master x Reader

Summary: The Master discovers that you’ve never kissed. Things - mainly kissing - ensue.

Pairing: Dhawan!Master x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: So I saw someone mention in the tags that they wanted to do a short drabble about Dhawan!Master teaching you how to kiss and I immediately had to sit down and write this because same. Hope that you all enjoy! (Also, if the Master seems OOC in this at all, I profusely apologize. I wrote this during finals week so yeah.... we die like men in this house.)

“You’ve never kissed?” Asks the Master. He is staring at you with a gobsmacked expression, and your eyes are glued to the floor.

“You don’t have to say it like that,” You mumble.

The silence in the console room is so loud you could hear a pin drop, and you mentally berate yourself for how effeciently you’ve managed to completely ruin the mood. You’d found yourself caught up in the moment, your hand clasped in his as you’d burst through the TARDIS doors, laughing, with your blood on fire. He had backed you up against the console, manic smile and sharp eyes gleaming, deft touches sending shudders cascading through you as his hands wandered over your sides and his lean, lithe body pressed you into something vaguely metallic and painful. He’d leaned in close, his teeth glinting in the lights, fingers rising to cup your jaw.

And you, an absolute idiot, had pulled yourself away from him with a hasty, I don’t know how to do this.

What?, he had asked, You haven’t kissed someone before?

He had smirked, when he said it, but the hot blush that had crept its way over your cheeks, and the way that you’d instinctively shied away from his gaze, without so much as thinking, had caused him to scoff in something akin to disbelief and take a step back, distancing himself from you. You felt his absence keenly, and knew, now, what he’d been pressing you into, the lever that disentangled the TARDIS from its physical place in the universe. No doubt he had meant to push you down on it with your lips and tongues at war with each other, sending you whirling into the vortex, where you could be alone, to hitch your legs around him as he took what he wanted from you. The prospect thrilled you, and filled you with some inescapable feeling that you couldn’t name -

Part low ache, part sadness, and part resignation. He would never want you, you thought to yourself. You had no idea what you were doing, and the Master had lived for hundreds of years. You knew deep down exactly what you would be.

The worst that he’d ever had.

You’re so lost in the thought that you almost miss the feeling of strong fingers at your chin, pulling your head up, the wamrth of his form in front of you, there, but giving you space. He is watching you calmly, warily, with just a hint of concern, and underneath it all you can see his tempered excitement, threatening to break through as he opens and closes his mouth once or twice, carefully choosing his words.

“How have you never…”

“I don’t know,” You tell him, huffing and embarrassed. “I always meant to. I mean - I just. I didn’t really - Have somebody like that.”

“Would you… like to?” He asks, hesitantly, dark eyes narrowed, scanning you as if he’s afraid, though of what, you don’t rightly know. Rejection, your mind supplies, as you snap back into the present. The gaze seems now to say Let me down gently, and you stifle a laugh as you take your time on the answer. It is important, you realize, to say the right thing to him.

To say the right thing, at all.

Your mind is filled with images of long months of decreasingly rare, fleeting touches that stayed with you into the night as you tossed and turned beneath your blankets, sleep deserting you in favor of the thought of his hands on your body, divesting you of your clothes and saying human things to you.

“Yeah,” You say, hearing yourself as if in a tunnel of wind, “Yeah, I think that I would.”

You don’t know what you’d been expecting, but it wasn’t for a smile to break loose on his face, for him to pull you away with a sure-fingered grip, eyes lit and fast pace persistant as he led you out of the bedroom.

“Where are we going?” You asked him, smiling yourself, a queer warmth suffusing you.

“Patience, love,” He says, smirking and teasing and exuberant in a way that doesn’t half scare you. You stumble over your feet a bit, in anticipation, and fading worry, as he guides you through the winding halls of the TARDIS. You blink, and you are through a door, elegantly carved and embossed in gold, and in a flash his wrist is off yours, and he beckons towards a bed with crisp white sheets and an richly embroidered red-and-gold eiderdown. The room smells like him - like smoke and whiskey and tea and ashes, like steel and anger and wet leaves after a rain. It is cold and caring, meticulously lived-in, inherently affectionate and foreign.

“Your room?” You ask.

“I want you impressed,” He says, but his laviscuous grin has softened, and so has the somewhat-dulled spark in his eyes.

He beckons, once, more, to the bed, and as you sit your thoughts return to you, tangled and confused, the hot edge of want shot through with ice water as you remember how much less than him you are. Your fears are dispelled as he pushes you further back, until you are lying down fully on the left side of the bed, giving you time to still him as he clambers onto it himself, the mattress dipping under his welcoming weight; he lies sideways, propped up on one elbow, close enough to make you sure of his intent, far enough that you could flee, though knowing the Master, you wouldn’t get very far. He would make you talk about it, say gentle things you aren’t capable of handling, before letting you go. He would make sure that you were alright, and you do not want to be that.

The only thing that you want to be, as you look into his deep, wondering gaze -

The only thing you want to be is his.

Your pulse goes painfully fast as he brings his hands up to cradle your face, and you wonder if he’s as nervous as you are. He certainly doesn’t seem nervous. He seems -

Intent, you think. Focused, and the tiniest bit smug, like he already knows how ruined you’ll be for anyone that isn’t him, after you give yourself up.

“Shh,” He says, moving to brush your hair behind your ear before cupping your jaw again. “Is this alright?”

“It’s fine,” You say, breathless, “It’s - good.”

“Mm,” He says, “Good.”

“I’ll like it better, once we actually - yeah?”

He laughs, a warm huff that you can feel on your skin, and a delicious shiver wracks you.

“You can’t even say it out loud, love,” He says, “Humans. What am I going to do with you?”

“I don’t know,” You say, letting your raw nerves show; letting him know exactly how anxious you feel. You’ve always been prone to anxiety; if he noticed it before now, he never said a word, but sometimes you thought you would catch him telling you things were alright when a panic attack was swelling up inside of you, and praising you for answering a question that would’ve earned anyone else Finally, even if your answer wasn’t entirely correct. Sometimes, he chastised you without the same degree of heat he directed towards others, with a gaze that tried to set your clumsy ashamed-ness at bay and offer you comfort, despite the weight of your mistake. Your insecurities roar back to life, and you feel yourself going to say - something - before he puts a stop to it, drawing your face closer to his where you lie, until your foreheads are touching and your lips are almost locked together.

“Now,” He says, utterly composed, “What you want to do - is feel.”

You pull back, snorting.

“Feel?” You ask him, “That’s a rubbish instruction, I think.”

“What did you feel, right then?” He asks you, cocking his head and casting his gaze over your body, eyes darkening slightly, then returning to their normal indifferent amusement, spiked with a languid and intense caring that made you want to run away and fall into him, all at once.

“Nervous,” You admit. The Master has dropped his hand to where yours is, and in one smooth motion sits, leaning against the firm, cool pillows and taking you with him. He prods at you until he is satisfied that he has you where he wants you, legs touching and half-twisted so that you face him, and you feel his hand move over yours, a warm, sturdy pressure lacing your fingers together.

“It’s only kissing,” He tells you, but there is no heat in it; he sounds less exasperated than he does reassuring, and it draws a laugh out of you, causing his smile to widen. He hums something concentrated into the air as he regards you, studying the lines of your face, shaking his head when you laugh and instinctively go to turn away.

“It’s only kissing,” He tells you, moving ever closer, his pace sure, yet restrained, and your heart swells at how slowly, how clumsily, he is going, giving you all the time in the world to back out.

“I’m um - I want this,” You say, with a giggle. A giggle; three months ago, if you had giggled, he would have glared, but now he takes it as confirmation that he can do whatever he wants to you - you hope that he does, at least. The Master seems to have gotten the message, because all of a sudden, he’s there, and you feel his mouth descending on yours, face cupped in palms that are surprisingly cool. His lips rest on yours, for the shortest moment, before beginning to move, softly and slowly, but firmly, his teeth both a threat and a dare. You try to match what he’s doing, but you can tell that you’re abysmal at it -

It doesn’t feel like it should, you think, and shake your head, attempting to escape him.

“No, love,” He tells you, pulling back just slightly enough that you can hear him, “Let me show you, mm? Just like this,” He says, tugging you back into the kiss, letting you take the lead. You move your lips in a way that sparks, and laugh in a start of hot disbelief. The Master smirks, and you feel it against your mouth, there and perfect. Your lips and tongue want to chase it, and though it scares you at first, an encouraging sigh from the Master makes your mind up for you.

You deepen things, sliding your tongue past his parted lips, and feel his clutch on you tighten, nails digging into your face. Any harder, you think, and they’ll break skin, though the pain doesn’t hurt you; on the contrary, it is welcome, so fundamentally Master that you wouldn’t feel right, doing this, without it, and you abandon yourself to his whims as he picks up the pace, nipping harsh at your lip, lifting his hands to place them at your shoulders and lifting you into his lap, legs straddling his thighs. He does break skin, then - at your back, and the top of your shoulders, and you whimper into his mouth. The Master runs a soothing hand over the shallow marks and swallows it, drinking it down like wine.

“Too much?” He asks, halting and pulling away and moving you off him, to give you much needed breathing space.

“No,” You say, “That was - Good,” You tell him. “Really good.”

“You like kissing, then?” He asks you.

“Yeah,” You tell him, “I do, I mean - Only with you,” You say, blushing and averting your gaze. When you finally look back at him, though, there is an intensity on his face that burns just the same as his anger, and his mouth is set in a snarl.

“Y/N,” He tells you, “Anyone else, and I’ll kill them.”

You don’t doubt that he means it - he may be a liar, the Master, but he will not lie to you. And you could not dream of kissing anyone else, now that you’ve done it with him. Lost in your reveries, you blink when the Master stands up, as graceful as anything, snarl settling into a smug, contented, and vaguely frustrated grin as he looks at you, yet you see the care in them, just underneath the surface, and your heart overflows in your chest.

“Twenty minutes,” He says, “There’s something that I want to show you.”

“Let me guess,” You say, “Bloody, violent revolution?”

The Master scoffs.

“Hardly,” He tells you, “I was thinking -“

“Wait,” You tell him, “Surprise me.”

The Master inclines his head ever so slightly, bending to get through the doorframe, ever so slightly too tall, but, for an instant - an indomitable sliver of time - he pauses, hands braced around the wood, and when he speaks next, his voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it.

“You’re quite good at kissing, you know,” He tells you - there is something intrinsically sad about it, but he does not give you time to speak. “Twenty minutes,” The Master says.

“I’ll be there,” You tell him.

“I know that you will be,” He says.

And just like that, you’re alone.

#dhawan!master x reader #dhawan!master #kissing #the master is a soft boi #but also possessive as all hell #that really do be how it be

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epiphany-of-a-madwoman · 4 years ago

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The Last Dragon | The Witcher & Game of Thrones

Chapter 12 | The Law of Surprise

Summary: Visenya Targaryen is the eldest and only surviving child of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell. When Robert Baratheon’s rebellion was won, instead of being slaughtered by the Mountain like her mother and siblings, she was saved by Ned Stark and taken as his ward. Years later, after she’s killed at the Red Wedding, she wakes up outside Blaviken. Now she finds her destiny intertwined with the White Wolf on her quest to go back home.

Word Count: 4600

Note: Click here to read the previous chapters ♡ Oh boy did this one take a reallllllyyyy long time for me to write. I hope it’s worth it! 🤍

“Stop,” the Queen yells, but the room doesn’t pay her any mind, only Geralt stays his blade.

“Stop!” she yells, louder than before. This time, all sound and movement in the room seize. Weapons clang against the floor, screams of rage and pain silence, no one in the room daring to move. Visenya lies on the ground, breathing so loudly she fears the entirety of the room can hear each shallow breath, yet her heart pounds too heavily for her to care. Shaky and pale hands touch the cold marble floor, using her remaining strength to pull her body into a sitting position. Jaskier places his hands - that are nearly as shaky as Visenya’s - on her back helping her slowly stand as she leans the majority of her weight against him.

Everyone stares at Geralt and Queen Calanthe, with bated breath and wide eyes, waiting for either of them to make a move. Instead, it’s Princess Pavetta who makes the first move. She pushes her chair back, dashing down the steps, and towards the knight, the chaos is centered around.

“Duny!” her sugar-sweet voice calls out, distress evident with every crack in her words. She closes the distance between them, throwing her arms around his body. He returns her embrace, lifting her off the ground and swinging her around before gently setting her shaking form down. “I told you to stay away,” she says, glistening tears falling onto cheeks that are flushed red, as she cradles his face with her hands.

Queen Calanthe’s eyes are glued on the two of them, watching as her daughter searches for any injuries on Duny. Calanthe’s eyes are wide and mouth agape, as her sword slowly lowers, but still rests firmly in her grasp. She moves around the two of them, heels echoing around the Main Hall. Pavetta and Duny look away from each other, Duny stepping away from Pavetta, kneeling before Queen Calanthe as he slowly sets down his makeshift weapon, only to stand moments later.

“Your Majesty… the Witcher speaks the truth. I was cursed as a young boy. My whole life was spent living in misery until the day that I saved your husband, King Roegner, from certain death. By tradition, I chose the Law of Surprise as payment. Whatever windfall he came home to find… would be mine,” he says, looking down towards the ground at the end of his statement.

Visenya watches with sharp eyes, no longer feeling delirious from blood loss, her strength slowly returning. The Queen’s face contorts into disgust, eyes giving away all thoughts and opinions she holds for her late husband.

“Oh, the stupid bastard. Better you had let him die!” she spits out, each word as venomous as a Dornish viper.

‘You knew he’d come, and you pushed me to kill him,” Geralt says, inserting himself into the conversation. His face is set in a grim scowl, clearly unhappy with the Queen trying to use him as a pawn. However, she ignores him, gaze solely focusing on her daughter now. Visenya pushes away from Jaskier, slowly stepping towards Geralt. Jaskier reaches his hand out, trying to catch her before she can get too far away, but she slips from his grasp like water.

“And you… carousing with the beast that swindled your stupid father!” Queen Calanthe exclaims, pointing an accusing finger at Pavetta, who shies away from her mother’s anger. Visenya feels her temper flare-up, the bitter words too similar to all the times Catelyn would berate and scold her when she stood too close to Jon. But she inhales deeply, forcing the fire out of her veins.

‘There’s already enough blood on my hands.’

“Tis no swindle. Asking for payment with the Law of Surprise is as old as mankind itself,” Lord Eist speaks up, moving closer towards the small cluster of people.

Pavetta moves towards Duny, grabbing his hand in her own, standing side by side with him. Her head is held high, with a challenging glint in her eyes. And for the first time that night, she finally looks like a proud lioness, instead of the scared pup she played all night long. Despite knowing nothing about the woman, Visenya feels pride burning in her as she watches the small act of defiance.

“Don’t lecture me, Eist,” Calanthe says, pinning a harsh glare towards him.

“It’s an honest gamble. As likely to be rewarded with a bumper crop as a newborn pup. Or… a child of surprise. He could not know. Destiny has determined the surprise be Pavetta,” Eist continues, unbothered by Calanthe’s angry demeanor.

“When I heard that King Roegner had returned to find a child on the way… I abandoned all thought of claiming the Law of Surprise. I knew…. I knew no woman would ever accept me like this,” Duny says, he then turns his head facing Pavetta. “And so I waited. I waited until the twelfth bell when the curse broke. I never intended to meet her. Just to watch from afar,”

“Until destiny intervened...and our hearts collided,” Pavetta interrupts, a small smile on her lips as she holds his face in her hands once again, staring into his eyes. A small smile tugs on the corner of her lips as she watches him with wide glistening eyes.

“And at dawn, I awoke with her in my arms and me… like this,�� Duny says.

“Who are we to challenge destiny? A life was saved, a debt must be paid or the whole order of the world falls apart.” Eist pleads, stepping closer to Calanthe.

“Honor destiny’s wish, or unleash its wrath upon us,” Mousesack says.

“There is no us,” Calanthe spits. “I bow to no law made by men who never bore a child. Is there not a man before you who does not cower before destiny?” Queen Calanthe shouts, eyes passing over every person in the room, a challenge burning in her eyes. Her eyes land on Visenya, focusing on her for a moment. Visenya doesn’t waver, simply raising a single brow and raising her chin, a silent show of defiance. Only a lion could believe themselves above fate and the Gods. At least Westeros and this world have that in common. The queen scowls, but then her eyes rest on Geralt.

“You Witcher, who has known monsters of every fang and claw, are you afraid too?” she asks. Her tone is mocking, the scowl on Visenya’s face deepening.

“No,” Geralt says, his gruff voice a stark contrast to Calanthe’s smooth one. Visenya turns to look at Geralt, unsurprised by his lack of faith. “I’ve seen mother’s lash themselves raw over the death of a child, believing they crossed destiny, ignoring the stench of the fifty other children in plague carts outside. Destiny helps people believe there’s an order to this horse shit: there isn’t. But a promise made must be honored. That’s true for a commoner as it is a queen.” Geralt says.

Pavetta touches Duny’s face, causing him to turn and face her. “I love Duny mother, I will marry him. I will finally be free,” she exclaims, unbridled happiness overflowing in each word she speaks as her eyes stay locked on Duny.

The words sting Visenya, another parallel of what Visenya could’ve had if she’d only been brave enough to chase it; brave enough to demand Jon be with her and demand Lord Stark to allow it. But the feeling fades as quickly as it came.

‘There’s no sense in regretting what can’t be changed.’ Visenya berates herself.

Calanthe watches the two of them, her stone façade beginning to crack and crumble away. Her harsh and austere eyes grow glossy with tears. Her sword arm grows limp, Eist slowly pulling the blade out of her hand, and she allows him to render her unarmed. Slowly she holds a hand out and Duny grabs it. She leans forward to whisper something into his ears. She pulls back, a small smile on her face.

But Visenya isn’t convinced by the serene façade. Only moments ago, Calanthe was willing to tear apart the world if it kept Pavetta from Duny. A pep talk from Geralt about honor can’t change that type of stubbornness.

But then she reaches into her side, pulling a dagger from its sheath, blade pointing towards Duny’s neck. Horror paints itself onto Pavetta’s face as Calanthe pulls her dagger farther back and then forward, moments away from stabbing - and killing - Duny.

“No!” Pavetta screams as if she holds the power of ten banshees. It’s sharp, cutting through the room, leaving a painful ringing in the ears of everyone in the room. Glass begins to crack, spider webs forming in the tall windows in the Main Hall. Time moves in slow motion, almost stopping entirely, all the focus on Pavetta. A strong gust of wind explodes from Pavetta, pushing everyone within its grasp as far from her and Duny as physically possible. Glass shatters, hitting the floor and stabbing into unsuspecting victims. The furniture is blown to the ground and into the far corners of the room. Visenya yelps, her body hitting the wall, reopening the bloody wounds that Mousesack sealed with his magic only minutes ago. Her back digs into a particularly sharp corner, gritting her teeth as more pain ebbs through her body. The loud crack from the impact is quickly drowned by the scream.

Strong winds swirl around Pavetta and Duny, slowly lifting their forms off the ground and into the air. Foreign words pour from her mouth, tone monotonous, and inhuman. Her emerald eyes bore into Duny, unwavering and unblinking. The words echo around the room and into Visenya’s ears, getting louder and louder with each word. The words, despite the chaos around them, lull Visenya into a sense of tranquility, her tense limbs slacking instantly, eyes fluttering shut as the words swirl in her head. They’re familiar and maternal, giving a similar feeling that her mother’s bedtime stories gave her. Or when Lady Catelyn would read to her when she was sick in bed, too weak to even open her eyes sometimes.

It sounds like home, but it leaves behind a sharp feeling, like a paper cut that never healed right.

It’s intoxicating, yet invasive all the same, the feeling that someone can see into the deepest parts of her mind. The hairs on the back of her neck stand stiff, leaving a tingling sensation all over her body in its wake.

The words nearly take physical form in the darkness of her mind.

And then the blackness ignites, the worlds beginning to fade.

Suddenly she’s no longer in the Main Hall, devastated by the tumultuous magic of a distressed princess. Instead of stone walls and marble floors, there’s an open field, a roaring fire consuming it, encasing her body like armor. It dances around her limbs, licking her skin, but never leaving a burn. Left then right, there’s nothing but fire. She moves forward, stepping with bare feet on rocky terrain, and despite sharp ends piercing into her feet, she doesn’t stop, doesn’t even blink. Then, she pauses, so still, she doesn’t even breathe. The fire crackles, louder this time, thundering in her ear with the ferocity of a calvary ten thousand strong charging into battle. She inhales, sharply, watching with bated breath for...something to happen.

And then her heart stops, brain freezing like an ice statue.

Screech.

The noise is small and breathy, not nearly as terrifying as she instinctively knows it will become. Before her eyes, Visenya watches as a large egg continues to crack, the burnt orange shell melting into the flames. A reptilian face is the first to break through the hardened shell, shimmering red eyes glimmering in the light, then one wing, followed by the other until it’s full body is free. It’s gold scales shimmer in the fire, nearly mimicking Visenya’s own eyes. She smiles, letting out a choked laugh like her throat is full of ash from the flames that dance around her.

Screech.

It roars again, batting it’s small bat-like wings as it steps out of the shell that encased it for so long. She moves towards it, but with each step, the dragon seems to get farther away until she can hardly see it. But she can hear it, Gods can she hear the dragon roar, each one louder and more terrifying than the last. The noise rumbles the ground beneath her, shaking her to the very core, but filling her with child-like wonder. She tries to run, hoping a faster pace will close the distance, eager to feel its scales beneath her fingers. Would they be smooth or rough? Soft like skin or coarse like salt?

The scene dissipates, leaving her in darkness once again. She stays this way, for seconds, minutes, hours: who could tell? But then she opens her eyes, and instead of a burning field, she’s back in the Main Hall, chaos still reigning in the room. Pavetta and Duny are higher this time as she continues to chant the same eerie words over and over.

Visenya glances to her right, watching Geralt slowly stand from the floor, fighting against the strong wind storm. He moves towards the two and thrusts two fingers forward. A burst of arcane force leaves his fingertips, causing Pavetta’s head to whip around, eyes focusing on Geralt instead of Duny. She lets out a yelp, ending the spell that holds everyone in the room hostage. Duny and her plummet to the hard ground, the wind dissipating as quickly as it appeared.

Visenya breathes out a heavy sigh, slowly standing from her position against the wall. Queen Calanthe wastes no time, rushing towards Pavetta who is slowly standing from the ground, harsh bruises blossoming all over her delicate body. Without a word, Calanthe wraps her arms around Pavetta, tightly holding her. A moment later she releases Pavetta, delicately cradling her face in her rough hands.

“I thought your grandmother’s gift had skipped you… as it did me. It seems I was wrong...about so many things,” she says with a softness Visenya hasn’t seen in the Queen all night. Pavetta smiles, and despite the messy state of her hair and clothes, Pavetta is still easily a shining gem of beauty in the room.

Calanthe slowly lets go of Pavetta, moving to face the large crowd that gathered around them. Duny moves beside Pavetta, the both of them moving to face the crowd as well, Pavetta tightly holding Duny’s hand in one and Queen Calanthe’s with her other.

“Destiny has spoken! And I have listened. The Law of Surprise will be honored. Pavetta will marry… Lord Urcheon,” Calanthe declares, loud enough that even the ghosts of the Lords and guards that died tonight can hear her from the beyond.

“React poorly and you won’t just face the Lioness, you will be facing the Sea Hounds of Skellige. Because Queen Calanthe has… agreed to my proposal of marriage.” Lord Eist speaks up, moving to stand on the other side of Calanthe, grasping her hand in his own. She looks over at him, a sly smirk on her face, but she doesn’t rebuke his notion.

“There will be two vows here tonight! I assume that’s agreeable?” Calanthe exclaims. Murmurs of agreement from nearly everyone fill the room, the majority of the room nodding as well. “Delightful,” the Queen relaxes her shoulders, a smile gracing her face.

o0o0o

All is quiet in the room, so silent each inhale and exhale echos in the room like a vicious scream. The lords and ladies stand in a large circle, each holding a lit candle. It’s surprisingly calm, despite the turmoil and chaos in the room only a short while ago. Duny and Pavetta are on the ground, kneeling before Queen Calanthe. Visenya is standing directly across from the Queen, with Jaskier to her right and Geralt on her left. The candle in her hand shakes ever so slightly, her arms weak and heavy, the adrenaline in her body completely gone, leaving her frail like Old Nan from Winterfell.

The Queen’s handmaiden stands beside the Queen, back straight with a small bowl of bright blue paint in her hands that is outstretched towards Queen Calanthe. She takes a finger and presses it into the bowl, soaking it in the paint. She leans forward using the same hand to press a line on Pavetta’s head, and then does the same to Duny, a melancholic smile on her face. Her brown eyes are tired like she’s just finished fighting a thousand wars. And perhaps she has, mentally wrestling with the prospect of her daughter marrying the man she did not intend for her.

The handmaiden then hands Queen Calanthe a velvet cloth that’s a rich blue with gold embroidery on it. Similar to the weddings the Southerners have in Westeros, she weaves the ribbon in between their hands, physically binding them together, just like their souls and hearts are now bound.

“With my blessing, I thee bind,” Calanthe says, her voice hardly above a whisper. She smiles at Pavetta again, this one wider and less sad. Pavetta and Duny slowly turn towards each other, wide grins permanently etched onto their faces. Slowly they lean towards each other, eager to seal the marriage with a kiss.

Their lips meet for a brief second, but Duny quickly pulls away, a snarl similar to a wild animal escaping his mouth. And then again, followed by a ferocious snarl. He collapses to the floor, his body twisting and contorting in unnatural ways as the loud noises continue. Visenya glances towards Geralt, noticing his stiff posture, intent golden eyes watching the scene. Visenya’s hand ghosts over where her sword should be, the anxiety building in her when she feels nothing but air.

Before she can scan the room for a weapon to make use of, the noise ceases. Duny lifts his head, but instead of being a beast, he has the head of a man; a very attractive man, He has a strong jaw, deep brown eyes, and matching thick hair that falls with a slight wave. He inhales sharply, shaking as he stares at his hand - his human hands. Pavetta stares at him in shock, wide eyes staring at her now human husband. Duny looks up, meeting her gaze. And like two magnets they immediately rush towards one another, though it lacks any grace due to their positions on the floor. They meet in an embrace, Pavetta’s hands caressing his face, a beaming smile on her fair face. They lean forward, capturing each other's lips in another kiss, this one more passionate than the previous, gasps of laughter pouring from Pavetta’s mouth in between each kiss.

“The twelfth bell has not yet rung!” Pavetta says once they pull away from each other.

“What has happened?” Calanthe says, sounding as dazed as Visenya feels.

“I think your blessing of this marriage has fulfilled a destiny,” Mousesack says, stepping forward from the circle. “The curse has been lifted.”

“Whoo,” Jaskier exclaims, one hand touching his chest and the other wrapped around the noblewoman that stands beside him. “I think this has the makings of my best ballad yet,” he says, wiping a single tear from his eye, looking towards the lady in his arms.

Visenya simply rolls her eyes, looking at Geralt with exasperation in her eyes.

“If you’re alive in the morning,” Geralt’s gruff voice roughly cuts through the beautiful moment and turns to face Jaskier. “Don’t grope a trout in any peculiar rivers until dawn.” Geralt turns to swiftly exit the room.

“Wait!” Duny exclaims, turning away from Pavetta to face the Witcher. “You saved my life. I must repay you.” Duny stands from his position on the ground, hand outstretched. Geralt stops and sighs, turning to face Duny.

“You’ve proven yourself to be the kind of man who would do the same, I want nothing.” Geralt turns to leave again but is interrupted once again by Duny.

“No please, please Geralt of Rivia, do not think you are doing me a service. I cannot start a new life in the shadow of a life debt.” Duny says, his lips tilting upwards, a gleam in his dark eyes. Geralt sighs once more, facing the Lord

“Fine I claim the tradition as you have, the Law of Surprise; give that which you already have but do not know,” Geralt says, the annoyance in his voice clear as day to Visenya.

“No!” Calanthe exclaims, fear clear in her glossy brown eyes. “What have you done Witcher?”

“Do not worry Your Majesty. The next time I’m seen in your kingdom will be to kill a real monster, not claim a crop or a new pup. Destiny can go fu--”

Before Geralt can finish his sentence, Pavetta leans forward, vomiting all over the floor. Calanthe rushes to the other side of her daughter, leaning down to Pavetta’s level to look her in the eyes.

“Pavetta,” she takes a hold of her daughter's chin, gently cupping it as she stares at her. “Are you--?” She doesn’t finish her sentence, the words unable to leave her mouth. In perfect unison, Pavetta, Duny, and Queen Calanthe look towards Geralt. Visenya follows their lead, looking towards Geralt with wide eyes. Geralt looks around, heavily sighing.

“Fuck,” he says, and then quickly turns away, exiting the room before anyone can stop him. Mousesack follows after him while Duny turns back to Pavetta, helping her to her feet. The rest of the room suddenly becomes unfrozen, the circle breaking as Lords and Ladies begin to mingle about the eventful night. But Visenya’s eyes are stuck on Calanthe. The Queen feels Visenya's burning gaze, turning to meet it.

They continue to stare at each other, and in her glossy hazel eyes, Visenya swears she can see death and destruction swirling inside them, the desolation in the years to come. At that moment Visenya feels like Daenys the Dreamer, seeing the fall of a great kingdom that should be indestructible. But just as quickly as it’s there, it’s gone, Queen Calanthe breaking their gaze.

She has no proof, no reason to believe Cintra would fall. Anytime Queen Calanthe’s name falls from the lips of anyone, it’s always mummers of praise at her prowess in battle, how fierce and deadly she is in the thick of combat. She has no reason to believe it, but yet, she can feel it deep in her bones.

Cintra is going to fall.

The Lions will fall as the Dragons did all those years ago.

“You should go, before he leaves you behind,” a voice breaks Visenya from her trance. Turning around, Mousesack is the one who spoke, standing behind her with a knowing glint in his eyes. Visenya cocks her head to the side. “Geralt, I mean.”

“I suppose it’s either him or--” Visenya moves her eyes around the room, focusing on Jaskier and the giggling noblewoman. They’re incredibly close to each other, as he whispers something into her ear, causing another round of giggles to leave her mouth. “- that.” Visenya mutters, raising a brow. Mousesack simply laughs, shaking his head, amusement glinting in his eyes.

“No wonder Geralt enjoys your company, you’re as dour as he is.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Visenya says, a small smile on her face as she faces Mousesack. “It was nice to meet you, Mousesack, perhaps our paths will cross again.” Visenya moves to walk past him to catch up with Geralt, but his hand grips her arm, stopping her in her tracks.

“Jane, I know this may not be my place to say, but I can sense immense primal power inside you, similar to what the Princess displayed,” he says, his voice hardly above a whisper.

“I don’t know what you--”

“I would be a fool to not notice the energy thrumming inside you, do not take me for a fool, Jane. Nevermind that I saw you burn a man with your bare hand,” he continues, unbothered by the way Visenya 's eyes bore into his face.

“And what of it?” Visenya asks, straightening her posture and raising her chin slightly, like a wolf raising its hackles.

“I also know you don’t have full control over it. Without proper training you will find yourself at the center of a situation like this, with a far worse outcome,” he says, unperturbed by Visenya's intimidation attempts. Flashes of a burning building and screaming flit through Visenya’s mind for a brief second. Her posture slackens, not by much, but enough for Mousesack to notice.

“I suppose this is when you offer to be my teacher?” Visenya asks, sarcasm dripping from each word, a bitter laugh following shortly after. Her gold eyes narrow, lips pulled into a thin line. Mousesack chuckles, shaking his head, briefly looking away from Visenya, tracing the walls before his eyes flick back to her.

“I’m afraid not, destiny has other plans for you, it would seem. Your place is with Geralt and whatever grand adventures you get wrapped into,” he says, mirth dancing in his eyes, visible even in the darkness of the hall.

“Then it appears we are done here.” Visenya tries to maneuver past Mousesack, but his grip is tight, keeping Visenya in place. She turns back to him, eyes like hardened lava.

“If I might offer a piece of advice, find someone and let them help you control this power you have. But stay away from the Brotherhood, if you can. A mage outside of their grasp would be best.” Mousesack whispers, eyes staring deep into Visenya’s.

“Duly noted.” She moves to walk away again, and this time, Mousesack lets her. He releases her arm and watches as Visenya steps over the rubble and towards the exit.

“May the gods watch over you, Visenya Targaryen,” Mousesack says. Visenya’s footsteps stop, posture as stiff as a board, the little hairs on the back of her neck standing up. Her heart pounds, blood filling her ears until she can’t hear anything. Like she’s been turned to stone, Visenya slowly turns around, a grim expression set on her face. But when she turns around, Mousesack has disappeared into the crowd of people. Gold eyes narrow, searching for Mousesack in the crowd for only a moment longer.

She whirls around, eager to leave this castle and the kingdom behind. She swiftly walks through the hall, nodding at stragglers guests or guards as she passes them. It isn’t until she’s near the exit that she spots Geralt's stark white hair. The clothes Jaskier dressed him in are dirty and torn, pieces of rubble stuck in Geralt's disheveled hair.

“Geralt!” she calls out, picking up her speed to close the distance between them. He turns around, eyes locking on her.

“Jane,” he simply says, watching as the distance between them closes until she’s standing in front of him.

“Thought you could leave without me, did you?” she asks, a sly grin on her face. Geralt raises a brow, his lips pulling in a smirk that matches her own.

“I didn’t know you were joining me at all.”

“Well it’s either you or I stay with Jaskier and his new muse,” Visenya says, sarcasm oozing from her voice when she says muse. “And I don’t think it would be healthy to retch as much as I would be if I stayed with him.”

“So I’m your last resort?” Geralt asks, eyes glinting with mirth and just a hint of happiness.

“Of course, but don’t worry, I’ve had to put up with worse,” Visenya says. She pats Geralt on his chest as she passes him, moving towards the exit.

o0o0o0o

Tags: If your name is crossed out, it means I wasn’t able to tag you. Also I’m not 100% sure if most of y’all still want to be tagged, since it’s been so long since I posted a new chapter, so feel free to message me if you no longer want to be!

#geralt of rivia x reader #the witcher fanfiction #geralt fanfic #the witcher imagine #geralt x reader #the witcher #the witcher crossover #game of thrones crossover #the last dragon #house targaryen #targaryen!oc #geralt x oc

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seaofthieves-glacialdragons · 3 years ago

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Legend of the Glacial Dragons Pilot: Prologue

Summary:

Years ago, Azura Icewind and her crew sailed the Sea of Thieves with pride. Now her daughter, Stella Icewind, wants to follow in her mother's footsteps as the next Captain Icewind. That is, if she can even make it to the Sea of Thieves in one piece...

Next Part: Here

11 years ago…

A flash of lightning tore through the dark clouded sky as thunder seemed to be constantly rumbling overhead. Combined with the howling wind, it was nearly impossible for the crew of the Icebreaker to hear their captain barking out orders. At the wheel was a middle-aged woman in an ice blue fur-lined coat with ice crystals seeming to emerge from the shoulders, matching boots and gloves and navy pants. She had long flowing auburn hair that reached past her waist and faded to an icy blue about halfway down, as if half of her hair was frozen, and tanned skin adorned with glowing blue markings that were occasionally visible through breaks between her gloves and along her neck. Bright almost glowing blue eyes pierced through the gloom as she struggled to keep her galleon steady in the battering winds. This woman is Azura Icewind, captain of the Glacial Dragons. “Skuggi, how much farther?” she yelled over the storm at a figure glad in purple robes, shaggy black hair tousled and drenched as grey eyes glanced up at his captain. “Should be dead ahead, captain!” he replied in a slight Icelandic accent. “Land ho!” A crewmate cried from the crow’s nest as the silhouette of an island appeared through the thick rainfall, a large peak piecing the thundering clouds. “Prepare to dock!” Azura yelled before staring intently at the island. It wasn’t marked on any of her navigator’s maps. ‘Dragon’s Truth’ Skuggi called it. Azura placed a hand over her chest where her heart would be as a faint blue glow shone through her coat. “I’ll see this through…for both of us…”

Meanwhile…

The sky was clear and starry as the waves calmly lapped at sandy shores. All was silent aside from the slight crunching of sand accompanied by the sound of wood carefully being dragged across it. That and the sound of a 10-year-old quietly grunting as she dragged what seemed to be a make-shift dinghy with a sail attached to it and a rock tied with rope, serving as an anchor or sorts. She let out a sigh as she finally got the boat near the water’s edge. Stella Icewind. A young girl with shoulder length, dark brown hair with frosted tips, ice blue eyes, and tanned, freckled skin. Clad in a raincoat, trousers and boots with a fake pirate hat on, she gazed out at the horizon with a determined expression. Just as she was about to push the boat into the water, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Stella let out a sigh of defeat as she turned around to face an elderly woman clad in a brown dress, that looked like it had been sewn and patched up over many years of use, who smiled sadly down at her. “Nana, I…you see…I gotta…” Stella tried to come up with an excuse but was shot down by the woman slowly shaking her head, “Stella, I know you want to follow your mother out into the Sea of Thieves but you’re still too young.”

“She needs me though…” Stella mumbled. “I’m sure your mother is willing to wait a few more years for your grand arrival.” Stella’s grandmother reassured, “But for now, try to enjoy your time on land. After all, you may start to miss it when you spend the majority of it on the water. Now off to bed. Even pirates need their sleep.”

“Ok…” Stella groaned as she glanced once more at the horizon before following her grandmother inside their cottage not far from the water’s edge.

Present Day…

A now 21-year-old Stella hammered diligently at a now-more-sea-worthy dinghy. Her hair was now chin-length and messy, still retaining the frost-white tips. She wore a white and light blue kimono-jacket with splits at the shoulders which revealed the dark blue shirt underneath, along with blue hakama pants tied with an ice-blue ribbon and blue sandals and white tights. A blue crystal necklace hung from her neck. She let out a content sigh as she placed her hammer down in the golden sands before stepping back to admire her handy work. The sky was a bright blue with the sun shining down; not a cloud in the sky. She took a quick swing from her waterskin before placing it into her rucksack and loading it onto the dinghy. As she did a quick once-over, she could hear footsteps approach from behind. “You can’t stop me this time, Nana.” Stella began without turning around, “Dead or not, I have to finish what she started.”

The day before, Nana had revealed to Stella that her mother had gone missing 11 years ago and was presumed dead. This was the final straw for her and was ready to begin her journey to the Sea of Thieves.

“I know. And I’m not here to stop you.” Stella’s grandmother sighed, “I should’ve told you sooner. I know I can’t hold you back any longer. I knew you’d eventually set out there whether I allowed it or not. All I ask is that you be careful. I lost a daughter. I don’t want to lose a granddaughter too.” Stella gripped the edge of her boat tightly before spinning around and hugging her grandmother, “You won’t. I promise.” Stella’s grandmother gently hugged her back before stepping away, “Now go. Enjoy your adventure and don’t look back.”

Stella nodded, fighting back tears before giving the dinghy one last push into the water. She carefully stepped into the boat and, taking a deep calming breath, she unveiled the sails, immediately catching the wind. As the dinghy took to the waves, Stella gave one last wave to her grandmother before facing the horizon. As she gripped the crystal around her neck, a lullaby that her mother sang to her – which she referred to as the anthem of the Sea of Thieves – came to her head as she began to quietly sing it to herself.

“Cloaked in folds of midnight waters, Side by side, we sons and daughters. We set forth for no king's orders, But we'll sail together. Hold fast, tides are turning. Flames roar, fires are burning. We'll all be returning, If we sail together…”

The Next Day...

“…ugh…”

Stella groggily woke up on an island, lying on her side. In front of her was a lit campfire and just a few feet beyond it was the shoreline with a partially wrecked sloop calmly floating on the crystal blue waters. Tropical plants and trees covered the island. Stella sat up, racking her brain as she tried to remember how she got there. That’s when she remembered. Her boat was attacked by a skeleton ship. The good news was that meant she was more than likely on the outskirts of the Sea of Thieves. The bad news was that her tiny dinghy didn’t stand a chance against the huge ship. Her boat took a direct hit from a cannonball, completely wrecking it. “Must’ve washed up here…great.” Stella sighed as she got to her feet.

“Indeed. You were quite fortunate to survive.”

Stella jumped, not expecting to hear another voice. Before she could question anything, a green glow emerged from the campfire and took on a humanoid shape. In front of her was the ghost of a portly man with a thick beard. He wore a standard pirates outfit – slightly torn – aside from a cloak on his back (along with three swords which Stella suspected was the reason for his ghostly form) and a wooden griffon claw as a pegleg. He also used a cane with a gaping skull on the top. “You look a little worse for wear, my friend. You must be on quite the journey.” He noted. “You could say that. Who are-?” Stella was cut off by the growling of a ferocious monster- oh wait, no, that was just her stomach. The ghost chuckled a bit, “I should eat something, if I were you. A full belly can do wonders for your spirits.”

“Ah, y-yeah…” Stella looked around and noticed a banana lying a couple of feet away from her. She picked up the yellow fruit, scoffing it down quickly. “There, you look better already. Maybe even strong enough to reach the Sea of Thieves.” The ghost smiled, “These days they call me The Pirate Lord, but you may call me Ramsey. Back when I discovered this place, I was just a bold explorer like you. I dreamt of finding uncharted waters filled with treasures and rife with danger, where every sunrise brought a new adventure…”

“Wait…is this…am I in the Sea of Thieves?” Stella’s eyes lit up with newfound hope. “Nearly. You’ve one last crossing to make.” Ramsey replied, “But it seems like you lost your gear upon washing up here.” Sure enough, Stella’s rucksack was nowhere to be seen. “Not to worry though, there’s some old weapons and equipment lying about here that you can use. If you’re up for a bit of work that is.” Stella gave a determined nod, “If it means I can get to the Sea of Thieves, I’ll do it.”

“Well now, I’d say you’re as ready as you’ll ever be for what’s ahead.” Ramsey said as Stella loaded the last of the equipment from the Pirate Lord’s chest into a bag, “Allow me to show you the path…” Ramsey motioned to the fog-covered horizon before slamming his cane into the ground, causing the mist to part and lanterns to alight in the distance. “The Shroud is beginning to part, but you have one more task before your journey continues.” Ramsey continued, “You may be ready to sail, but your ship still needs repairs. Go, and tend to her wounds! After that, I must bid you farewell.”

“Thanks for your help.” Stella smiled, “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have made it.”

“It’s no bother at all. Now go. Adventure awaits!”

Stella nodded before sprinting towards the old sloop. As Ramsey watched the young woman scuttle about the ship, fixing it up, he muttered to himself, “She’s most certainly your daughter, Azura. I wonder if she’ll live up to your legacy…?” With that, he disappeared in a puff of green smoke.

Stella huffed and puffed as she raised the anchor. Once it was secured, she grabbed the ropes for the sails and unravelled them before hurrying over to the wheel, guiding the ship away from the island and through the lanterns. As she sailed, she could see the wrecks of many ships, ranging from sloops to full galleons. As unnerving as it was, she tried not to let it get to her as she pushed on. She jumped as she saw what seemed like a giant shark-like creature briefly surface before diving under her ship. She remembered stories her mother told her as a child of creatures that lurked in the Sea of Thieves, with one of them being a sea beast called the Megalodon. She wagered that was one of them. Her thoughts were interrupted by a large splash on her portside. A skeleton ship. Stella was about to steer away in a panic when she realised that her new ship was outfitted with cannons. “Might as well get some practise with these things.” She muttered and she scrambled down the steps and grabbed some cannonballs from a nearby barrel, loading them into the cannons. Her first few shots missed completely but she managed to land one, knocking a skeleton overboard. Just as she was about to aim the next shot, tentacles shot up from the water beneath the skeletons’ ship and began to drag it down under the waves. “Kraken too, huh? Better them than me…” Stella mumbled, somewhat relieved the monstrous squid targeted the skeletons instead of her. She pushed the ship forward until she began to spot islands off in the distance as the fog began to close behind her. There was no turning back now. But Stella didn’t want to.

“I made it, mom.” Stella breathed, a few stray tears escaping, “I made it…”

“I’m home.”

Sea of Thieves: Legend of the Glacial Dragons

To Be Continued…

#sea of thieves #azura icewind #skuggi nott #stella icewind #ramsey singh #sot ramsey singh #the pirate lord #sot pirate lord #pilot

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freedom-shamrock · 4 years ago

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Teacups and Firelights

This is my @atla-secret-santa gift for @wwjacksparrowd. Happy holidays, I hope you enjoy!

Also on AO3

______________________________

Something was definitely wrong in Ba Sing Se, and just being in the city gave Ty Lee the creepie crawlies several times an hour. After a week of putting up with it, she was at risk of going all Azula once she found the cause. Aang's meditation sessions were probably the only thing keeping her out of an uncontrolled avatar state at this point.

Ty Lee didn't always look or sound the most attentive to details, something that had served her well in the past, but she didn't need anyone to point out when there was something rotten right beneath her nose. Much of what she took in from around her stayed in her head, swirling around with everything else until she was able to make the connections she needed. She wasn't always the fastest of the Ty septuplets at picking apart the tangles of political intrigues, but she was more often right than any of her sisters (she was right more often than her friends, too, but she'd been careful not to point that out). She was also consistently the fastest Ty in sparring, though that may have come from being the avatar, so it felt like a cheat.

She'd come to the Earth Kingdom capital with her unlikely companions for a number of reasons, all quite pressing. Their top priority had been to share intelligence with the Earth king and his generals as part of Sokka's rather brilliant plan to take down the firelord. They'd gotten a meeting scheduled with King Kuei, and flaming monkey tigers, the Fire Nation had nothing on the Earth Kingdom's bureaucracy! If that weren't enough of a reason to come, they desperately needed time to recover from weeks of things going terribly, horribly wrong. That couldn't happen if they were being chased around the world by her Royal Fire Academy best friends (and the sister she'd left in her place with the circus to avoid raising suspicion when she went off to pursue her destiny). Not even General Iroh had been able to penetrate the ringed city's great wall, and while Azula was brilliant, she wasn't yet up to his standard. Her attempt involving a massive drill had failed, and the princess retreated, so they were safe from that quarter… for now. Their final reason for being in the vast city was to find Appa, her chronologically 112 year old airbending master's sky bison and one of the companions who had been with her since early in this convoluted adventure.

With two of their three goals addressed, or at least pending, they'd all split up to search for any signs of the ten-ton creature (who really shouldn't be this hard to find, even in Ba Sing Se). While out and about they were also gathering information on the general oddness of the city. Joo Dee's messed up orange aura and creepy smile sent a message that they'd all picked up on. Their extremely anxious neighbors, who quietly advised them to not ask questions and most of all to avoid the Dai Li, had flaming red auras. Living in the central ring of the city among the very wealthiest and most influential, they had no reason to show such fear. Well, unless King Kuei's court was as literally cut-throat as Firelord Ozai's but less open about it.

As she skipped down the clean and tidy streets of the inner ring, she noted that while the architecture was different from home, it was no less opulent than the capital she was most familiar with. She idly wondered if they used earthbending to suffocate out any undesirable plant growth, the way fire was used back home. Everything here was so orderly, or as Aang put it, inhibited to the point of joylessness. Even Toph, who was intimately familiar with Earth Kingdom upper class manners found it creepy.

She turned a corner and heard cheerful chatter unlike any she'd encountered during their stay. The Ba Sing Se social elite were quiet and dull, or perhaps they were deathly terrified to lose face and power from whatever was wrong here. Hearing people sounding like they did in every other part of the world was definitely something to investigate. Across the plaza and up a short flight of stairs was a tea shop. It's exterior had clearly been freshly painted, gleaming green and gold under the late morning sun. A cup of tea would make her day's work more pleasant. Pursuing her destiny had sounded a lot more fun before she'd spent weeks on end chasing one lead after another, without the time to really enjoy the places they stopped. They barely had time to bathe for most of the trip.

With a bit of a hop, she was able to vault over the railing, bypassing the stairs entirely. It was not entirely proper decorum, but she was dressed in a way that marked her as an outsider. She and Toph had spent hours comparing social rules and drilling them into Katara's head (the Water Tribe girl was quick to both mock the foolishness of the conventions and to demonstrate she could fit in with even the most elite social climbers). Ty Lee had a surprising number of things in common with her earthbending master, and her bluntness was no worse than Mai's, so they'd fallen into an easy alliance. Katara was something else all together. Despite their countless differences, she'd become a better friend than any Ty Lee had ever had. It was a given that she was a lot nicer than Azula, but she'd never met someone so focused on doing the right thing regardless of the risks, with no other motivation.

Ty Lee skipped up to the open doors and peeked in. This was unlike the other tea shops she'd visited in the city. The waiters were constantly in motion, delivering cups and pots of steaming tea to the many full tables of happy visitors. There was energy and enthusiasm here, not the fog of apathy. The dining room held the gentle fragrances of teas that were familiar and some that she was sure she'd never had. This would definitely clear her mind enough to start connecting all the weirdness of the city. While her friends were good at coming up with plans (spirits knew that they would have died in the desert if not for Katara, and Sokka's use of Wan Shi Tong's knowledge was flat-out brilliant), she felt that she really needed to be pulling her weight. She was the avatar, after all. It was bad enough that they had decided early on to let Aang masquerade as the avatar to take the pressure off her. If she wasn't at least coming up with some of the plans (beyond the completely random trips to spiritual centers), what good was she?

"Hello." A cheerful young man's voice called her out of her own head. "Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon. Our special for the day is Ba Sing Quon, a soothing tea for the refined palate."

She looked up into a very familiar face. "Zuko?" she squeaked. There was no way he could be anyone else. Even if he had a double here in the earth kingdom, there was no concealing the scar his father left on his face, and as one part of a seven-piece matched set, she was never fooled by look-alikes.

He sucked in a breath, his face going pale as he took a step back.

Her hand darted out and caught the long brown sleeve of his uniform before he could flee. "What are you doing here?" she whispered, keenly aware of the other staff and patrons around them. When she'd last seen him, Aang had knocked him out in the North Pole shortly before she and La had merged to obliterate the Fire Nation navy. Aang had run afoul of him a time or two since then, but she'd managed to stay out of his sight.

She could see in his eyes that he was weighing his options. Zuko had always been smarter than Azula wanted to believe. "What are you doing here?" he countered. "I thought you were hunting down the avatar with my sister." His remaining eyebrow arched.

"I'm on vacation," she said airily. "And what about you? Aren't you supposed to be on your own hunt?"

"Only if I want to return to court," he said with a sneer. "Which I don't."

She stared at him in awe. That was not something she'd ever expected to hear out of Azula's serious older brother. Frankly, his temperament was better suited to leading the country than her hot-headed school friend.

"I'm making my own destiny, and I'm done chasing ghosts for him," Zuko said firmly.

She offered him a small smile. "I'm happy for you. You deserve your own happiness."

He looked surprised.

"He was always a monster to you, and it wasn't fair," she said. She'd seen favoritism spoil the relationship she and her sisters could have had, and that had been nothing compared to what happened in the firelord's children.

Zuko shrugged. "Like father, like daughter."

Being chased all over the Earth Kingdom by Azula had given her a whole new perspective on her once best friend. "You're not wrong."

His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

She leaned back in her chair. "I know. I'm supposed to say she's an acquired taste and that she's not that bad, but… if I've learned anything the last several weeks, it's that Azula's been turned into a dangerous weapon that your father will turn on whoever he feels like." It had been frankly terrifying to have that weapon turned on her.

Zuko stepped back. "I'll be back with your tea."

She watched as he walked stiffly to the back of the shop, disappearing behind a curtain. He looked so much better than he had in the north. He actually looked happy. Moments later he returned with a small tray holding a single red-glazed white teacup.

"Your tea, miss." He placed it gently on the table in front of her.

"Thank you, Zuko."

"Lee," he said.

"What?"

"My name is Lee. This my uncle Mushi's tea shop." He took a slow breath. "We close at dusk."

She flashed him a cheery smile. "Very good to know. Thank you."

⁂

Ty Lee sat on the raised edge of the fountain in front of the Jasmine Dragon tea house, watching the sky turn a spectacular peach color. It had taken some pretty heavy assurances before her friends had been willing to let her go off and meet her Fire Nation contact solo. To be fair, they were all a little on edge. Even without Ba Sing Se's creepy aura (who knew a city could have its own aura?) they'd been hunted, chased, and attacked a little too often (especially recently) to just do as they pleased. She'd refused to share information on her contact, but agreed that they should come look for her if she wasn't back in an hour.

Paying close attention to the vibrations in the thin soles of her dance shoes, she looked up to see Zuko and General Iroh step out of the tea house, working together to close and lock the grand doors. She stood up and waited for them to approach. Zuko moved a little stiffly, but his uncle was as steady as always. He was difficult to read, but his white-streaked violet aura was reassuring. He'd shed the heavy mourning he'd still carried when she'd last seen him, well before she realized she was the avatar. They weren't here with Ozai's blessing or knowledge, then.

"Ty Lee," Iroh said quietly. "You are not someone I ever expected to encounter here in our new home."

She beamed at him. "Then it's a pleasant surprise for all of us," she declared.

Iroh stared at her for a silent moment. "I certainly hope that's the case. My nephew and I have settled in nicely, and I feel we've really found our place." He paused for another moment. "It would be a shame to have to uproot ourselves yet again."

She held out her hands to both of them. "As I told Lee," she smirked at Zuko, "it's nice to see you so happy. I obviously don't know what you've been through on your travels, but it seems to have smoothed out the difficulties life brought on you both."

"How are you even here?" Zuko asked, blunt but without the heat she might have expected. "Last I heard, you'd joined up with Azula to terrorize the avatar."

Ty Lee clapped her hands together. "Yeah, so I've heard."

"She doesn't let people leave her service," Zuko noted. "So I have to assume you're here on a mission for her."

She laughed a little and shook her head. "That situation is not at all what it seems to be."

A small but totally gleeful smile appeared on Iroh's face. "So her companion is one who shares your likeness?"

She rolled her eyes. "You'd think my best friend would be able to tell me and my sisters apart." She gestured to Zuko. "Lee knew it was me immediately." To give Ty Lao credit, she'd fooled everyone, including Mai and Azula, who should have seen through the masquerade.

"That still doesn't answer how and why you're here, though," Zuko pointed out.

"You aren't the only one seeking a different path," she said quietly.

Iroh's large callused hand wrapped around one of hers, and when she looked up, she could see understanding in his eyes. "I believe it is safe to say that none of us are a threat to the other."

Ty Lee nodded. "We're only here until we can meet with King Kuei, and I haven't even told my friends who I'm meeting with tonight."

"So you aren't alone, then?" Iroh asked. "That's good. Safer."

"Who are you traveling with?" Zuko asked, clearly more suspicious than his uncle. He'd never liked unknown variables.

"No one you know, silly," she replied easily. "It's just a small group of friends from all over the world."

"It's been wonderful to see you, my dear," Iroh said. "And I would love to stay and chat, but I've been on my feet all day. Why don't you and Lee catch up." He turned to Zuko and raised his eyebrows in question. "And do be sure to stop back in before you leave Ba Sing Se."

Zuko's shoulders drooped a bit and he nodded.

"How long have you two been here?" she asked once Iroh was gone.

"We're new to working in the upper ring," he explained. "But we've been in Ba Sing Se for several weeks now."

"We've only been here about a week," she said. The silence was uncomfortable. "So, I bet you know of some of the nice sights that we haven't found yet."

Zuko nodded. "Yeah. Why don't I show you the Firelight Fountain. It's in the lower ring, but it's actually really nice." He glanced around. "Less stuffy than the places in the upper ring."

"Sounds great," she agreed, following as he led the way to the nearby monorail station. "How did you come to Ba Sing Se, anyway?" When his face closed off again, she clarified. "I don't need every step of your journey. Just… how did Lee and Mushi end up here?"

He visibly relaxed and nodded. "Uncle knows people all over the world, and he got us new identities. It was easy to join the groups of refugees traveling here." He was silent for a moment. "I didn't really want to come here. I still thought honor was something my father could actually give or take away. But I wasn't in a position to argue with Uncle."

"The Dragon of the West is a formidable opponent," she agreed.

Zuko snorted. "I've come to understand that."

Ty Lee laughed, delighted to see him making something of a joke.

"Whatever we may think of the Earth Kingdom, they manage the people of Ba Sing Se well. They had apartments available and there's a communal kitchen for newcomers who don't have work placement yet." He shook his head, looking a little awed. "It's a far cry from what happens to refugees in… well, you know."

She did know. In the Fire Nation, being in a poor situation was seen as the culmination of poor choices, and aid wasn't freely given to people who had called misfortune on themselves. Her journey had helped her reframe all of that. No one person caused an earthquake or mudslide. Some people made all the right choices and still ended up poor.

"We still live in the lower ring, in one of the refugee apartments, but we're on a waiting list to move to the middle ring," Zuko continued. "I'm not really in a rush to move, because we don't need much. And I don't care about the status." He looked out the window, blind to the blur of the city passing beneath them. "But it would be good to make the apartment available to someone else. There's so many refugees coming into the city right now."

"I really mean it," Ty Lee said, leaning over to look out the windows as the carriage came to a stop. "I'm glad you're finding your own happiness."

He looked at her for a moment. "Thanks." He got up and gestured that this was their station. "And what about you? Are you finding your happiness?"

It was a fair question. She hadn't been exactly unhappy, not since joining the circus. "Purpose," she decided. "I enjoyed entertaining people, but it wasn't enough." Especially after her extra bending potential spontaneously manifested one evening, and she knew she was meant for more.

"And you needed to travel the world to find it?" he asked.

"Not really. Not to find it," she replied. "It's more that the traveling gets me to where I need to be, to… uh, engage in my purpose." That was vague enough, right?

"What is this purpose that can't be done back… home." That last word came out sounding distasteful. The Fire Nation probably hadn't felt like home since even before he was banished.

"Helping others," she declared. "It's more than I could do with the circus, and definitely not something I could do with Az… your sister." It would probably be best to avoid the name that was known the world over. She'd seen the Dai Li lurking on rooftops during the day. While most people didn't tend to look up, she was an acrobat and preferred to go up when she needed an escape. The buildings were taller here, and maybe lower ring inhabitants were less worthy of close monitoring, but she couldn't risk it. "She would've frowned on it, because I'm not just helping people she would have seen worthy."

Zuko nodded. "She's pretty selective in who she sees worthy of helping, and there's usually a reason behind who she chooses to help, something not remotely altruistic."

Ty Lee nodded. It was something she'd never liked about Azula, even before she'd learned more about herself. "She only watches out for herself and isn't really interested in real balance." It had been why she hadn't gone to her friend for help when she discovered she was the avatar. She knew Azula would cast their friendship aside as easily as she discarded an out-of-season gown, if it would curry favor with her father.

"Balance?" Zuko let out a huff. "You sound like Uncle." A rare smile found its way onto his face. "And that's not something I ever thought I'd say about you."

"I suppose." She laughed a little. "I'm both surprised and unsurprised that he supports balance."

He gave her a look that clearly begged her to explain further.

"The stories I've heard about his military days are very different from the man he is now." She shrugged. "I guess we can all change."

Zuko nodded. "He taught me to redirect lightning," he said in a low whisper.

She stared at him in surprise. "You can do that?!" She hadn't even heard it was possible.

"It's critical in facing off against my sister, or my father, for that matter."

He wasn't wrong. But how had she not found anything on that technique in all the many firebending scrolls she'd covertly read? Not even the Fire Sages' library contained that information. Spirits, she needed to learn that. But how could she do that? How could she get that information without telling Zuko more than he needed to know?

"Hey Lee!"

Ty Lee looked up to see a girl their age waving at Zuko from across the street. She wore her hair in paired braids and was dressed in Earth Kingdom green.

"Who's your friend?" Ty Lee asked, delighted by the blush she saw in his cheeks.

"Hello, Jin," he called back, waving awkwardly. It was enough encouragement for the girl to scurry over to them.

It might break Mai's heart if she knew what Zuko was up to in Ba Sing Se, but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. And Ty Lee wasn't in any position to tell her, not that she was inclined to.

"How have things been at the new tea shop?" the girl asked. "We've all been so excited to hear about it."

"It's going really well," Zuko said. It really was nice to see him happy as he chatted with the girl who clearly had a crush on him. "It's been better than even Uncle hoped for."

"That's wonderful!" The girl exclaimed. She turned to Ty Lee. "Hi, I'm Jin."

"Oh," Zuko looked a little nervous. "Jin, this is my, uh, cousin."

Ty Lee grinned. "I've known Lee practically all my life."

Jin's eyes and mouth went round with surprise. "Were you in the circus with him?"

That was his cover story? Ty Lee almost burst out laughing. This was too easy, and would give her something to tease him about for years. "I was in the circus."

"Were you in the juggling act with him?" Jin pressed, looking all the more eager.

Ty Lee shook her head. "No. I'm an acrobat." She demonstrated by bending backward to stand on one hand for a moment.

Jin clapped enthusiastically. "Oh wonderful." She glanced at Zuko for a moment before leaning in to whisper, "He's out of practice, so maybe don't ask him to show off his skills."

"Thank you for the warning," Ty Lee whispered back. She winked at him before speaking regularly again. "Lee is taking me to see the Firelight Fountain."

Jin clasped her hands together over her chest. "Oh, I'm just coming from there. You won't be disappointed." She turned back to Zuko. "It's all lit up tonight."

"Do you, uh… want to join us?" Zuko asked reluctantly.

"I'd love to," Jin said with a sigh. "But I should get back, and I'm sure you and your cousin need to catch up without strangers around."

"Thank you, Jin," Ty Lee said, bowing gratefully to the other girl. "We do have an awful lot to catch up on, and you know how families can be." She tilted her head and rolled her eyes. "Petty infighting and back-stabbing."

Jin laughed. "I'll see you another time, Lee. I'd love to hear more about the Jade Dragon."

"Jasmine Dragon," he corrected. "Like the tea."

"Oops. Yeah, Jasmine." Jin waved and continued back up the road the direction they'd come from.

"She seemed cheerful," Ty Lee said.

Zuko nodded, awkward again. "She's friendly. Happy."

"She likes you," she pointed out sincerely. There was no need for teasing just now.

He looked both pleased and a little embarrassed. "I know."

"I'm glad some of the people here are seeing who you really are." That certainly hadn't happened at home, not after his mother vanished.

He glanced at her in alarm. "She doesn't know… who I am."

She waved off his concern. "I'm not talking about where you came from or what you can do." She wiggled her fingers at him. "I mean who you are as a person."

"Oh." He nodded slowly. "You really sound like Uncle." He looked closely at her. "You're not the person you used to be. Not at all."

They stepped into a circle that could only be the Firelight Fountain. "It's lovely." The simple feature beautifully displayed three of the four elements at their best. A warm glow shone from the ring of lanterns, reflecting in the stone fountain's sparkling water. All that was missing was air, and Ty Lee could see small rings on the lanterns that had probably once held streamers to dance in the breeze. The designed balance was as askew as their world, and it broke her heart a little. She'd need to keep Aang away from this place. He didn't need reminders that he was the last of his kind.

"Hey," Zuko said softly. "Are you all right?"

Ty Lee sniffled a little and quickly rubbed at her eyes as she nodded. "Yeah."

"I didn't think you were the type to cry over a pretty fountain," he said.

"It's not just that." She sighed, trying to figure out how much she could tell him and how she could bring up lightning again. "It's… it's a painfully accurate representation of the world," she finally said. "It wants so badly to be balanced. But it isn't."

"Hmmm." He looked closely at the fountain again. "Did you know that the avatar is still alive?" he asked, his gaze intentionally turned toward the water. "He's traveling the world on a flying bison."

"Oh… yeah." She nodded. That bit wasn't exactly a secret. "I'd heard that. I'm pretty sure that's who your sister is chasing after."

"I saw a flyer the other day," Zuko continued. "I guess his bison is missing."

"How… unfortunate." She'd forgotten how good he was at intrigues, just because he didn't care for them. Had she let slip too much? While it was known in the upper ring that the avatar was there, she didn't want her friends to have to dodge Zuko or Iroh. Her firebending had come a long way, but she was no match for either of them. It was just another reminder of how ill prepared she was for taking down Ozai.

"Do you suppose he's found a firebending master yet?" Zuko asked, glancing at her before looking away again. "I imagine that's been a tough element for him."

"He's the avatar," she pointed out. "Shouldn't he already know how to bend all the elements?" They'd encountered that mindset more than a few times, and as the person trying to meet everyone's needs, it was incredibly frustrating.

"I don't think that's how it works." Zuko shook his head. There was a long moment of silence. "I met him once… well, more than once." He looked embarrassed again, as if he were cringing away from his past actions.

"Really?" Aang had shared all his encounters with the angry banished prince, and the boy always seemed disappointed about something.

Zuko sighed. "I wish I could meet him again, now." He met Ty Lee's eyes. "I owe him an apology."

"Really?" How did he keep surprising her like this?

Zuko nodded. "He offered me friendship and I threw fire at him. I hurt him and his friends when I was still desperate to complete my father's errand. It was wrong, and I see that now."

"You just wanted to come home," she said, internally forgiving him for the things he'd done as a result of the abuse he'd endured.

"Yeah, and I've come to realize that a place where you're expected to do things that you simply can not abide because they are morally wrong no matter how you look at it, that's not home," he declared.

"Has Ba Sing Se become your home, then?"

"It's closer," he admitted. "But not quite my home. Not yet." He moved to settle on the edge of the fountain.

"You might just need a bit more time," she suggested.

"Maybe," he agreed. "But I can't shake the feeling that there's something else I should be doing. Something more I could do to help restore the world's balance."

"Oh?" She wasn't sure how to bend that back to what she needed from him. "So what else could you be doing?"

"Teaching the avatar how to firebend," he said, his voice soft and matter of fact. "Like I said earlier, I think that being able to redirect lightning is going to be crucial." He chewed on his lip for a moment. "I've been going out at night looking for signs of his bison, Appa, I think is its name. And while I'm not fully sure I've found it, I might have a decent lead."

Her heart leapt in her chest and her throat felt tight. Appa was a creature of very few words and much wisdom. "Why… why would you do that? Look for Appa?"

"Because it's the right thing to do," Zuko said earnestly. "I've done the wrong thing so often, I have a lot to make up for. And I think it's going to take something monumental to get his friends to let me talk to him and offer my skills."

"Oh." She couldn't think of anything to say to that. How could she bring this up with her friends? Would they be willing to give him a chance?

"Because of the missing bison flyer, I know the avatar is in the city," Zuko went on. "Do you think it's wrong to hope that he might show up in the Jasmine Dragon one day?"

Her breath caught, and it was a struggle not to show it. "No." She coughed to clear her throat. "Stranger things have happened."

Zuko nodded. "You should get back to your friends before they start to worry." He stood up.

"Yeah." She did not want them coming looking for her.

"It was nice to see you, Ty Lee," he said, offering her a small smile. "Nicer than I would have expected."

"I'm glad I bumped into you," she said.

"Be sure to stop by the tea house again," he suggested. "Before you and your friends leave the city."

She smiled, feeling content for the first time in a while. "I will." She had a lead on both a firebending master and Appa's location. Perhaps those two details would be enough to get her friends to take a chance on adding a new member to the group. Maybe things were finally moving past the point of hopelessness, and she actually stood a chance at becoming a good avatar.

"I'll see you soon, Lee. I promise." She turned and walked up the street toward the monorail.

_____________________

This was fun to write, but also a challenge. I have never written from Ty Lee's perspective before, and I'm not sure I really nailed her character, but I'm hoping it's close enough.

#ATLA #fanfic #atla-secret-santa #wwjacksparrowd #ty lee #Avatar Ty Lee #Zuko #Iroh

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toloveawarlord · 4 years ago

Text

Love and Lust (Ch. 1)

You can find my masterlist in my bio!

Pairing: Asmo x Verena

Tagging: @plumpblueberry @youreawizardharr @gay-noodle-clan @starry-starry-night24

Warnings: This series is 18+ as it contains a lot of sexual content. This chapter contains no smut but a lot of sexual tension and discussion!

A/N: Asmo takes care of his little lamb. Basically a story about a succubus who admires Asmo but is shy and awkward when it comes to her sexual life. She gains confidence through her relationship with Asmo, as well as learning to love herself and have self care!

Being in the human world did not live up to the stories told throughout Devildom. Many tales of plethora of vitality waiting for any brave enough to cross into the realm. Humans were a delicacy that few had ventured to consume.

Nothing about this lived up to the expectations.

The young succubus pressed against the rough brick wall of the darkened alleyway, scratching into her barred skin. Chilly air bringing trails of goosebumps as a shiver tingled down her body. Winter a season not present in Devildom, the icy air enough to make her eyes water.

She was dressed incredibly inappropriately for late December. Skirt short as could be, brushing a mere inch away from revealing the crimson lace panties over her ass. Cropped top covering as little skin as possible and revealing her to be without a bra.

Her nose scrunched up at the sickening stench of cigarette smoke erupting like dragon’s fire from the rotting mouth of the drunken man hovering much too close to her. It should be second nature to pick on his arousal and twisting into a sexual encounter resulting in absorbing vitality.

An experience most foreign to her.

“Dressed like that, I’d say you’re asking for some adult fun. Ya gotta be, what, eighteen or nineteen?” Grimy features of a man not cleaned in days. Glazed eyes from one too many drinks. “Come on, give me a smile.”

Verena flinched as calloused fingers stroked sloppily against her cheek and his other hand settled under her skit on her ass, giving a shameless squeeze. Her powers should have taken over to release pheromones to charm him into doing as she wanted. The only thing radiating from her was fear.

The wind howled down the alley, announcing the arrival of the silhouetted figure at the entrance. A beautifully frightful sight. Wings and horns barred for the sole purpose of striking terror into the human so intoxicated that he wouldn’t remember it in the morning.

“W-What the hell?” The man stumbled over his feet in order to escape with his life.

As for the succubus, she wished to melt through the wall, mortified that she’d been caught.

“Ah, my lost little lamb.”

That voice. Her favorite one in the entire kingdom.

Violet eyes peeked up from under dark lashes for a chance to catch of glimpse of his beautiful features. “L-lord Asmodeus...” Her voice timid. She knew that she’d broken the law by coming to the human world without permission.

Asmo came to her, wings and horns disappearing as the sliver of moonlight slid over his form. Delicate fingers traced the spot on her pink tinted cheek where the human touched her, as if erasing filth from a precious treasure. “Are you hurt, Verena?”

“No, I’m alright,” She answered nearly breathless. Her nature called for her to crave affection, yet she never liked anyone’s but his, starved for it. Verena struggled in her classes, struggled to find her way through her emotions and powers.

A meeting, the highest-ranking demon among all incubus and succubus had requested to a private chat with her, the worst succubus in Devildom history. He’d been kind to her, offered words of praise and encouragement. The first she’d ever heard. No matter how hard she’d tried, no other had brought out her charm.

Verena leaned into his touch, soaking it up for as long as it would last. Violet irises lifted at last to find deep golden one gazing at her with only love and concern, no malice or anger.

“Good.” Asmo slid his finger under her jaw to her chin, tilting her face upward. His lips brushed against hers that parted all too easily as an invitation. “My poor little lamb, so deprived of vitality. Come now, we’ll collect your things and I’ll return you to Devildom where you belong.”

Devildom.

“I can’t go back.” The words bidden from her lips without her will. Lost in his golden eyes, unable to lie even a little Verena bit down on her lip. Going back would only harm the last bit of her soul.

As if he could read her most intimate thoughts, Asmo gave a gentle smile and nodded his head. “Let’s discuss this out of this cold, you’re absolutely frigid. It’s not good for your skin.” He tugged at her invisible strings of obedience like an expert puppeteer.

Returning to her apartment was blurred.

All her focus on how his fingers dug into her hip with his arm protectively around her waist.

“Now, over here.” Asmo tightened his hold to keep her close. Gracefully sitting on her couch, he easily pulled her down onto his lap facing him. He wanted to see each and every expression that would cross her face. “The human world is much too dangerous for you, my pet. Has anyone forced a contract on you? Be honest.”

Her head shook, palms firmly against his chest to maintain a distance but the feeling of his broad chest beneath his shirt made her want to touch him more. “No. Who would want to.”

The succubus underwhelming in every aspect. The picturesque creature ample in their breasts, curves defined all around, and long goddess legs, but not Verena. She was tiny, not even hitting the five-foot mark. Small in every sense of the word. Not the kind fantasized by others.

Lashes dragged against her cheeks as a haze fell over her, weak from the lack of vitality.

“You will take vitality from me tonight. I will not hear any protests.” Tilting his head to capture her lips in a tender kiss, he slid a hand up to the nape of her neck, holding him to her.

“Please-”

Asmo hummed into her mouth, completely in tune to each movement her body made in response. The way her fingers desperately clung to the material of his shirt, hips gently rolling against his. No charm necessary to get her to want him, the craving evident.

Yet, part of her fought it.

The reason unclear. Succubus were made to embrace intimacy. They needed it, like a part of them was missing without it. Vitality more necessary than food. Verena was incredibly weak.

“When was the last time you received vitality?” The question given between breathtaking kisses. She would need air to speak so Asmo moved down her jaw to her neck, tongue tracing over a sensitive spot. He relished the jerk of her body and the sweet moan she failed to cover up.

Verena could hardly catch her breath. Every brush of his fingers against her back sent a shiver up her spine. Never had anyone made her feel so intensely. Her gaze fell away the second his rose to hers.

Something in her avoidance did not sit well with him. “Tell me, Verena. How long has it been?” A soft, nearly inaudible gasp escaped from her lips when he sucked on the tender spot on her neck. “Answer me, lamb, or I’ll have to punish you.”

Her hips bucked forward, as if hearing the word punishment turned her on even more. Any touch from him welcomed and desperately wanted. But as commanded, she gave him an answer. “Never.”

Asmo paused his assault at that one word. “That’s impossible. You couldn’t have survived this long without it.” She’d be withered, barely the shell of a person without vitality.

“I... take the supplements.”

The ones made for children, until they are old enough.

Not meant to be taken long term.

Many things crossed his mind, questions stacking on top of questions. All would have to wait. Asmo noted how out of it she was, and how she wanted him. “That won’t do at all. I’ll simply have to teach you.” Tracing his thumb over her bottom lip. “There’s no need to be nervous, little lamb. You are in the most capable hands in all three realms.”

Verena knew how incredibly lucky she was to have his attention, his touch. “Lord Asmodeus, I-um-”

“No, no. All I want coming from these lips are those sweet, delicious sounds of pleasure.” Golden eyes were filled with delight. This was new, a succubus a completely blank canvas begging to be painted in his colors. Her mind lingered in a muddled state of uncertainty. “I’ve not used an ounce of my charm and yet you’re grinding your hips against mine, clinging to me tightly. You don’t want me to let you go.”

Her cheeks flushed red. It was like she had turned on autopilot, unable to stop her own body from wanting to drown in him. “Please... “

The word drenched in absolute urgency for more.

“Please what?” Asmo couldn’t let her off without a little punishment. At another time would he properly give one, but he wanted her first experience to be full of pleasure and nothing else. That would not stop him from teasing her.

A soft whimper left her lips, violet irises searching his for the answer. “I...” Her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. “I want...” Her head dropped, unable to look at him any longer. It was like staring at the sun, brilliantly bright and warm but dangerous for more than a few seconds. Verena’s heart would surely burst. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but she forced the sentence out, “I want you.”

Her voice bashful and shaky but full of resolve. She did want it, a brand-new experience. Never before had anyone brought out this part of her. She shied away from intimacy, yet with him, Verena craved him like a drug. Her body hot, begging to feel his bare skin against hers.

The tips of her ears were tinted red. Asmo couldn’t resist. He caught the soft, sensitive tip between his teeth, biting hard enough to cause a small amount of pain, and then immediately soothing it by lapping his tongue against the wound.

“Ah--” Her gasp of mingled pain and pleasure like the finest music.

How he wished to toy with her in this moment, to discover all the places most sensitive. In time, he told himself. First, she required a more tender experience to regain her strength. “You’ve far too much clothing on. Let’s remedy that. You’ll help me, won’t you?” His fingers already tugging at the zipper of her skirt to expose the crimson lace panties.

Verena responded with a breathless yes, pulling the crop top over her head and letting it fall to the floor behind her.

Asmo hooked his arm around her waist and twisted them to lay her on the couch. Her hips lifted as he pulled off the skirt and panties together, leaving her bare. His head tilted to the side, a small dilemma running through his mind. “This couch is much too small.” Asmo could make the couch work, but the bed would allow him more range. As he lifted her up, she lazily wrapped her legs and arms around him in response.

Asmo would take good care of his favorite little lamb, and after, return her to where she belonged. The human world would be cruel to her, use her and throw her away. He couldn’t bear to allow that to happen. It would be best for him to look after her, physically and mentally.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #n//sfw #a little bit #the next chapter will have full blown smut #asmo is a caring demon

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sennextheassasinkingoflight · 4 years ago

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Redemption, My Love

Chapter 6 Travel: Day 1 Cross posted on Ao3 Rated Explicit

Summary: The silence between them is louder than anything Percival has ever heard. It makes him uncomfortable and that discomfort causes him to ask every question he has for The Weeping Monk. Lancelot is uncomfortable answering Percival's questions but does so anyways. Gawain, well he's exhausted and stressed and full of anxiety.

+++Percival+++

By noon Percival complains that he needs to stretch. It isn’t so much that he needs to stretch as it is that the silence between the three of them is thicker than the air in the house when his parents fought. He wanders a way into the woods under the guise of stretching and listens to see if the other two will speak. They don't and it frustrates him to no end. The silence between them all is deafening. The sun is high in the sky and the air is stagnant. He makes his way back to the clearing they’ve stopped in and stands by Gawain who hands him a water skin and piece of bread and dried meat. He eats it slowly and eyes them both in the process. It’s uncanny. The two move in tandem without speaking. Gawain throws a water skin to Lancelot who catches it with a nod, drinks and throws it back. They should need to speak, being strangers and all. But it's like they can read each other's minds instead. Perhaps it's because they are both warriors? Either way it’s eerie and puts Squirrel on edge. Finally Gawain speaks, it's a short sentence directed to no one in particular. “We need to get back on the road.”

With little hesitation Lancelot mounts Goliath. The process is slower than it ought to be and Percival wonders how bad his ribs hurt, as he stands. He brushes his hands on his pants and approaches Gawain who is checking the tack on his own mare one more time.

“Can I ride with you awhile Green Knight?” “Yes.”

So he climbs up in front of Gawain and they set out. Lancelot rides slightly ahead to the right, he seems to curl in on himself a little. Though admittedly he doesn’t know what he looked like riding the last couple of times. Nothing good he imagines, being so close to death as he was. As they continue along the path he wonders if Gawain is purposefully falling behind to watch the monk. He doesn’t quite know what benefit it would give him, but he trusts the knight's judgment implicitly.

As the silence stretches his discomfort only grows. He can only sit still and watch their surroundings so long. He feels alone, even seated in front of the Green knight. And he does not want to be alone. He sucks in a deep breath and then he does what he does very well and blathers into the air. It's nothing important until it is. He doesn’t mean for the questions to start coming out of his mouth. He doesn’t mean for his anger and his uncertainty to come out, but it does. He can feel the weight on his shoulders start to sink into his stomach and he has to move. He starts by turning in his saddle enough to see Gawain out of the corner of his eyes and look at Lancelot completely.

"Where are we going? Do we know if it's the right place? How can you possibly know where we need to go?" He watches Gawain turn his head to look at Lancelot and then down at him.

"According to him,” a nod in Lancelot's general direction, “Nimue made a deal with Uther that involved our people sailing to some other land."

"Nimue would never! This is our home!"

"She did Percival. To save you." Lancelot rasps, lifting a hand to his side. His ribs were probably aching. Unlike Percivals own bruises, Lancelots had only just begun to really heal. “But I don’t understand. Where would we go?” “I don’t know where Uthers ships were to take the Fey. Only that they were supposed to take them from Beggars Coast.” Lancelot informs him, hand visibly pressing harder on his ribs. “Why are we heading south then? Isn't that west of us?” “Yes,” Gawain supplies behind him, chest rising and falling against his back. “We need to avoid the Paladin camps and that means being low enough not to pass through them.” “Alright then.” He settles some, leaning back against the man. They lapse into silence again. It eats at his insides, makes him squirm uncomfortably. The longer he sits in the tension stretching between them the more the pressure grows inside him. The anger that has simmered since their escape is now boiling at his surface. He can practically hear Gawain thinking behind him and he has no idea what is happening in the mind of the Monk. He fidgets and Gawain taps his arm startling him. “What is it Percival?” He prompts a voice gentle enough that it causes Percival to still. Unfortunately the question was all the spark to tinder and Percival erupted into an inferno of rage. “Why did you help them hunt down your own kind?” The venom in his words burns his throat on the way up, leaving a bitter spice on his tongue. When Lancelot does not immediately answer the rest of his questions join the first in the open air between them. It only serves to add fuel to the wildfire of his heart. Gawain does not stop him and he doesn’t know if he should be glad or angrier for it. “Why Did you use me as bait to track the other Fey down? Why couldn’t you just let us go? We never did anything to you, or to the bloody paladins. You're the reason my family is dead, and the reason The Green Knight died. Why did you Rescue me? Were you going to use me as bait again? I don’t understand you. I should hate you.” His voice breaks here fire turning to steam, and steam into tears as he tries not to cry in front of The Green Knight. “But I don’t and I don’t understand why I don’t. Tell me you’ve done good things? Tell me you aren't all evil to the core?” He swallows and breathes heavily. Gawain's arm tightens around him and he leans back into the embrace. His eyes never leave The Weeping Monks back and he hopes the man can feel them burning into his soul. Taking him apart seam by seam. The slump in the man's shoulders and the way he bows his head against the barrage of questions remind him of shame, and maybe the monk does feel that, maybe. But Percival is too irritated and wrathful to believe that; too angry to remember that he doesn’t know Lancelot's story or his motives. He wants answers and the monk's silence is not an answer. Perhaps it's an admission but he wants to hear Lancelot say that he did those things. Give some answer for them. “Give me an answer, damn it!” He commanded the monk, determination coloring his voice turning it hoarse and high. His nostrils flared and he heaved in deep breaths to try and calm himself down. “Let him formulate his words Percival.” Warned Gawain. Which only serves to enrage him further. How dare The Green Knight of all people protect The Weeping Monk. How dare he betray his people like that? How could he support the man who had killed so many of his own? It made Percival sick and further served to remind him of his own internal conflict. “What does that mean?” He sneers, voice harsh as he turns to side eye the man behind him. “I imagine that he is trying to figure out how to say it in a way that makes sense to an eleven year old.” Observed the knight, arm still tight around his shoulders. He wiggles until it comes free. He does not want to be touched by the man who he looks up to. Not right now, not while he tries to justify the Monk. “He can talk to me like I’m an adult. Gods know I've seen enough.” He disagrees bitterly. It's then that he notes that Lancelot has slowed enough to plod along beside them. He looks over at the hooded man and furrows his brows. He’s tired of waiting. “Look at me,” the demand startles them all, but he does not back down.

++++++LANCELOT+++++

How exactly is he supposed to answer the boy? He swallows down the bile in his throat and tries to think of any answer that might satisfy him. There isn’t one. Lancelot had killed hundreds of Fey, had been the one to lead armies to burn their villages and forests and collapse their caves. He had stood by and watched as men and women were strung up on crosses and burned alive. The echoes of their screams chasing him even in restless sleep. He stood by and watched as children were pulled from their mothers arms, the way he had been, and killed on the ends of swords, axes, and arrows. His life is painted in rivers of red, blood and flame and rage. There is no answer to give the boy but the truth. And the truth is wretched and disfigured. The truth is bitter and poison and damming and yet it is all he can offer. Percival was right, the Fey had done no wrong to Lancelot or to the church, save the inherent belief that by their mere existence they were demons born of the devil. People fear that which they do not know. That is why he himself had been feared. He was a killer, an assassin and the brothers didn't know him. They had simply feared him and shied away from him, save for when he gave the orders to burn. In that one moment they were united. United as murderers. It is no wonder he can not feel the grace of God when he cries out. He lets his shoulders slump and hangs his head. Maybe the boy will simply accept that there is no good answer and they can continue in silence. It is not. The boy demands an answer. An answer to some of the very same questions he remembers asking Carden and the other brothers when he was first taken from his homeland.Questions that had kept him up in the darkness of his cell, that rolled around in his mind like the echoes of his mothers voice. He knows that his responses will not satisfy Percival, just as Cardens had never truly satisfied him; but, he will dignify the boy with an answer nevertheless. He slows his horse to match Gawain's pace and stares straight ahead, hood falling over his face. It will be an agony he cannot bear if he is to look at the boy now. He clenches his jaw and grinds his teeth before he finds the words and manages to speak. His voice is low and sounds like a wet stone on steel to his own ears, then again his head is throbbing still. “Killing Fey… it’s all I’ve known since I was younger than you are now. It’s what they trained me to do from the moment they took me from my home; tore me from my mothers arms.” Percivals voice is laced with disgust as he butts in.

“They trained you to be a murderer as a child? Didn’t you ever think it was wrong? When you got older?” Lancelot wishes he hadn’t obeyed the last command and made eye contact, the boy looks terrified and hurt and three kinds of enraged. “I did. Yes, especially at first. However as I got older it was harder to believe I had any other choice. When I refused to obey, or hesitated to spill blood, they would take my hands and make me do it anyway and beat me, after, until I couldn’t move for days. I was desperate to survive, so I did as I was told.” “That’s not an excuse! It doesn’t make it right!” Percival objected, though it sounded weaker than his previous sentiments. He hangs his head again, sombre and dejected and studies the horn on the goliath's saddle as though it is the most interesting thing he has ever seen. It is several moments until he gathers his thoughts again. The smell on the air is bitter with anger and leaves him feeling more nauseous than the headache. He listens to the steady rhythm of the horses moving along the path, of the stream nearby and finally he can speak again. “I know. And neither was using you as bait. I… I am truly sorry for that. I hurt you in doing so.” “Then why did you do it?” The fire is gone from Percivals voice, and something closer to shock fills it. He pointedly does not look at Gawain though he can feel the man's gaze on him. He flushes slightly. Then, resuming his forward gaze, “ I chose to see you not a boy, but as a tool. I was given orders and I needed to obey them.” “What does that even mean?” Gawain intercedes on his behalf, voice like ice chilling him to the bone. “He saw you the way they saw him. Fletching on an arrow, a dog to chase foul, smoke to run out foxes.” “Yes.” He whispers in agreement,, nodding his head marginally and tensing his shoulders. “How did you see the people in my village?” The heartbreak in Percivals voice is enough to stop him answering. He does not wish the boy further pain, he won’t lie to him, but he can’t answer this. Not right now. Likely never. “I. I won’t answer that.” Now he does meat Gawain's eyes. Not in challenge; but in supplication. “Do you regret it? The things you’ve done?” Gawain asks over Percivals protests. It's not a change in subject, a very uncomfortable subject, but it is a change of topic and for that he is grateful. He does not turn his eyes away from the hazel ones staring into his soul. He feels vulnerable beneath the other man's gaze and yet he cannot look away though he desperately wishes he could. “Yes…” he starts slowly, “I do. More and more with every passing day. I knew when I was young that it was wrong. At some point, it stopped being about right and wrong. It was about survival. I did what I believed necessary to stay alive. At some point though, being alive wasn’t the same as living. Looking back…. It would have been better to let them kill me. I wanted to believe in Fathers words. Some days that hope of salvation he offered was all that kept me from going mad.” He lets his voice drift soft at the end. Finally he looks away from Gawain and raises a hand to pet Goliath's neck. Sucking in a shuddering breath he attempts to settle whatever emotion it is rising in his chest and causing his throat to ache. “But knowing it was wrong is why you chose to save me?” Percival speaks again in the simplistic, honest way of children. “In part.” he notices the expectant look on Percival's face from the corner of his eye. “It was the knowledge I already had, something Father said and didn’t do, and Gawain's words to me. It was as though some part of me shifted. I didn’t have a choice after that. I knew it was the right thing—The only thing, I could do.”

He casts his gaze from Goliath's neck back towards the road, hands shaking so much that he grips the reins tightly in an attempt to make them stop. The boy falls silent, face scrunched up in thought. Lips pursed and chin tucked to his chest. He doesn't ride forward, but remains at Gawain's side. It’s an invitation. Gawain may ask him questions if he likes. He doesn’t and Lancelot finds himself relaxing at the knowledge that his answers have sated his new companions for the time being. There is an edge in the silence prodding at him like his ribs every time he breathes. Still, even with the sting of it present the journey turns in a more amenable direction.

The sun is beginning to touch the tops of the trees. It would be prudent for them to settle in for the night. As though the knight riding beside him can read mind Gawain directs Percival to look out for a clearing to stop for the evening. It doesn't take them long to locate a spot off the road, near the stream. It's perfect, secluded enough not to be noticed, unless they let the fire burn, yet it maintains plenty of sight lines to the road. They work in silence, practiced in their own right, as they unpack their few belongings. Gawain tasks Percival with gathering firewood and filling the water skins. He trusts the boy to know if the water is good or not. When he has gone and Gawain has given the horses their grain, the knight turns to him.

“We should discuss how the watch will work.” There is no malice, only deep rooted exhaustion and annoyance in his features. He nods his agreement and maintains the eye contact, waiting and not dismissive. “There is really no good way to do this. I don’t trust you to keep watch alone. I don't trust you to keep watch with Percival. Percival cannot keep watch on his own. And I cannot keep watch all night.” “You trusted Percival to keep watch of me while you were away.” He notes softly. Gawain grimaces and pinches his nose, his other hand resting on the pommel of his sword. “He wasn’t alone with you. And you were injured.” “Both of those points are still true.” He schools his features and forcibly does not smirk. It’s fun getting under Gawain's skin. He doesn’t mean to do it, but seeing the knight riled up turns his stomach pleasantly, so when it happens, as it will inevitably do, he pushes it just a touch. He’s good at reading people's limits, he had to be.

Gawain inhales sharply and Lancelot returns his focus. “You and Percival will keep watch together. If you hurt him, betray us, or decide to leave, I will hunt you down and flay you alive.” Gawain's voice is as unwavering as his eyes. They do not leave his face as the man stares him down, waiting for an answer. “I cannot offer you my word. There is no honor to back it. I can give you a promise of good faith in its absence. I will not harm the boy, or you. I will not betray you to paladins or animals alike that may come in the night. And I will not leave. I told you before and I hold to it still, I will face trial by the Fey council.” Hazel's eyes linger on his face and his cheeks heat under the scrutiny. The Green Knight stares at him, more than he likes. Absently he wonders if it's his way of trying to understand him. “I will take the first watch. At midnight, you two will take the second. If necessary Percival can sleep while we ride tomorrow.”

Supper is meager, but filling. Dried meat and some cheese. The fire is warm against his skin, and it is comforting. He watches as the flames orange tendril flick at the night air, coiling and unraveling. He admires the way the coal shines bright white. He forces his eyes away when an unwanted memory enters his mind. He stretches his neck and shoulders, wincing as it jostles his ribs, and focuses instead on the sounds around him instead of the smell of the fire, or the outline still visible through his eyelids. “Have you chewed any of the willow bark Bliant gave you?” The reprimand is clear in The Green Knights voice. He shakes his head. He hadn’t because he deserved the burn in his lungs with each breath to remind him of those he allowed to burn alive, most notably the Moonwing tribe. He deserves the ache in his joints and muscles for all those he has knocked down and left bruised and bloody in his wake. The nausea to remind him of those who had watched their family die around them. If his pain could not cleans him then it could be a reminder of his past actions. A reminder of who he was and what he had done. It was an atonement, not an absolution. “You’ll heal faster if you chew it.” Percival yawns from where he has crawled into his bed role. He’s snuggled down to his chin and rolled to his side, back to the fire. “Perhaps.” “Sleep better too.” The boy mumbles and shifts again. He doesn’t answer, just does what he knows they want him to do. He reaches for his bag and pulls out some of the bark. It's been ground finely like tobacco sometimes is so he can tuck it under his tongue or into his lip. It's more potent this way. He places a pinch under his tongue and instantly his mouth waters from the burn. It is much more bitter this way than straight from the tree. Silently he settles himself into his own bedroll, cloak pulled securely around him. He falls asleep not long after listening to Gawain hum some ancient Fey song into the night. It's distant and all too familiar and pulls him right into the arms of sleep.

+++++GAWAIN++++

When he has finished sending Percival to gather firewood and water he turns his attention to the monk. He does not enjoy the prospect of him taking watch alone, nor can they avoid it.

“We should discuss how the watch will work.” he attempts to keep his voice neutral and it seems to work as the monk turns towards him and makes eye contact. It doesn’t waver and that is a comfort to Gawain as much as it is prod to his pride. Lancelot should not feel capable of making prolonged eye contact with him, they are not on the same level. He lets his eyes flicker over the other briefly as he crosses his arms and speaks. “There is really no good way to do this. I don’t trust you to keep watch alone. I don't trust you to keep watch with Percival. Percival cannot keep watch on his own. And I cannot keep watch all night.” “You trusted Percival to keep watch of me while you were away.” He rubs a hand over his face and settles for pinching the bridge of his nose, his other hand falling instinctively to the pommel of his sword. He thought the man whispered before because he was uncomfortable, but it was becoming clear that perhaps it was simply in his demeanor to be quiet and subdued. It’s irritating. It's not that The Weeping Monks voice is monotonous, but that it is soothing even if it is raspy and low. His voice is too soft for a murderer, for a paladin. They were loud and boisterous, not… this. “He wasn’t alone with you. And you were injured.” He refrains from sighing, only just and straightens his shoulders instead. “Both of those points are still true.” There is a flash of emotion on The Monks face as he says the words, amusement almost. Gawain grinds his teeth and clenches his hand around the pommel of his sword, his other hand coming to rest at his side in a fist as he inhales sharply. “You and Percival will keep watch together. If you hurt him, betray us, or decide to leave, I will hunt you down and flay you alive.” He aims for stern and threatening and knows he has hit the mark as he watches The Monks face as he formulates his response. He notes the way his jaw goes slack and then tightens as he furrows his brows blue eyes raging as he comes to a decision. “I cannot offer you my word. There is no honor to back it. I can give you a promise of good faith in its absence. I will not harm the boy, or you. I will not betray you to paladins or animals alike that may come in the night. And I will not leave. I told you before and I hold to it still, I will face trial by the Fey council.” Gawain finds himself staring at blue eyes, and sculpted face longer than is appropriate or necessary. He forces himself not to react as pink rises across the other man's nose and cheeks. He narrows his eyes slightly and nods in acceptance. “I will take the first watch. At midnight, you two will take the second. If necessary Percival can sleep while we ride tomorrow.”

Their supper is nothing special, left over dried meat that Bliant had insisted they take and some cheese. There is enough for one more day and then they will need to take time to hunt. They wouldn’t if they could travel at a faster rate, but he knows what it’s like to ride with broken ribs and bruised skin and doesn't push them. Beyond that Bliant had been firm in her reprimand that they were traveling too soon and The Monks injuries could still be threatening if they were not careful. He watches The Monk through the fire, he is like some cold unmoving wraith and when the flames cast flickering shadows across his hands and face he can't help but admire the way they highlight the curve of his back and throat as he stretches out his neck and shoulders. He frowns when he notices the way the man winces from the pain and wonders if he's used any of the willow bark they were sent with. “Have you chewed any of the willow bark Bliant gave you?” He doesn’t mean for it to be a reprimand and yet that’s exactly what his tone implies. He really shouldn’t care if the man has chosen to neglect himself, and yet he does. The orders from the Hidden echoing in his mind and weighing on his shoulders.

The Monk shakes his head and that's all the answer he gets.

“You’ll heal faster if you chew it.” Percival yawns from where he has crawled into his bed role. He’s snuggled down to his chin and rolled to his side, back to the fire. A smile inches its way across his face. For all his anger earlier the boy still shows compassion and inadvertently trusts with his actions. It warms Gawain to know that even after everything the boy is not completely irreparably damaged. “Perhaps.” “Sleep better too.” The boy mumbles and shifts again. The sound of a rustling cloth draws his attention back from the boy and to the man across the fire. He watches with interest as he pulls out the little tin of ground bark and places a pinch beneath his tongue. He almost laughs when his eyes water and he swallows instinctively from the burn. Gawain knows the feeling like he knows the feel of his armor, or a blade in his hand. He thinks that perhaps The Monk does not and some distant part of him aches for that. It isn’t long before the Monk joins Percival in the act of sleep, curling his cloak around him and shifting more comfortably on his bedroll. Absently he hums an old lullaby of the Fey. He isn’t entirely certain why he does it, but it brings him comfort as he sits in the dark the flames of a dying fire his only company.

There is an energy brimming in him, aching to get out. He knows this energy, it’s familiar as it coils in his chest and squeezes his lungs. Anxiety. He has every reason to be anxious he thinks; for instance, his mind supplies, you died and now you're alive; not to mention The Monk asleep across the fire from him; or Squirrels mixed feelings of attraction and respect for the man; and The Hiddens orders to bring The Monk before Nimue and the Elders alive; nor the concern for his people taking a deal with Uther and leaving themselves vulnerable on the beaches, lastly the knowledge the Nimue may not even be with their people considering that very agreement. Who let her make such a decision? Did no one council her against it? Of course not, fool, you weren’t there to be the stable one . They’re all just children. Why did I let her name herself queen? There had to have been a different way?

It didn’t matter now if there had been a different way or not. Not while he sat alone in the darkness, the embers of the fire the only source of light, dim against the void of the night. He sat, posture straight and proper as he had been taught as both boy and warrior. Tilting his head back, hair catching slightly in the bark of the tree he looked to the sky for answers. Where did he start? What did he start with, his emotions, the challenges, the people? It was all intertwined with no reprieve in sight. What was the most immediate source of discomfort? What was the most important issue at hand? What needed to be addressed first? Ultimately it was the ones that he was surrounded by currently. There would be nothing simple about sorting through his feelings about The Monk or determining the best course of action for helping to dissuade the boy from becoming more enamored by him. He wondered and wondered into the night about why the Hidden wanted The Monk alive. What could the man possibly do for the Hidden, for the Fey. His comment about the Fey using a warrior like him had been rooted in truth, he could certainly help change the tides of the war with his knowledge and skills with weaponry. But there must have been much more. Much much more. Right? He is a murderer, a kin killer. There is nothing about the man that says he should be redeemable. And yet that's what The Monk said it was that he seeks. He grimaces and suppresses a shudder as he recalls that he had offered the man forgiveness. Forgiveness of all things, for what, that he himself might feel better? Because he had hoped that the words would extinguish some of the hate in his heart? For the slim chance that he could be a good role model for Squirrel because the boy deserved people in his life that were good. Who weren't worn out by war and made ugly and deformed and broken by the things they have seen and the things that they have done.

Instead he had Gawain, broken and defeated by the consistency of war, turned bitter against the race of men. Gawain, who given the chance, would have stabbed The Monk in the back if it meant he could never kill again. Gawain who was loyal to his people, to a fault, and obedient beyond his own understanding to the Hidden. Nimue who was too busy to give him the attention he needed from some kind of motherly or sisterly persona. Nimue, made impulsive by the sword, violent even. Nimue with her boy troubles and love of manbloods. Nimue with too much worry over too many people for someone so young. Pym, barely a healer. The girl who wove nets who was never meant to be something more, but who always wanted to be. The girl who was too young to give wise counsel but tried nonetheless. The girl who sought to be useful and skilled but who was never important to anyone. The girl who deserved just as much and more than Percival himself. Arthur and Morgan man bloods who gave council. Good counsel at that, even if he did not wish to admit it. Kaze with the blood of a fierce warrior, and a taste for blood, but wise beside. Counselor of queens and battle hardened. And now, The Weeping Monk, harbinger of death and destruction, grey in ash and a parrot too. A man incapable of thinking for himself, content to live as a slave taking orders from his master even after he's been kicked like some kind of overtly loyal dog. He laughs bitterly, mirthlessly, the mist of night damp on his skin. What is he to do? To be? Why had the Hidden saved his life. It most certainly was not so he could be a mentor or a father to Squirrel, certainly it could not have been for the sake of the Monk. They could have chosen to tell anyone of the elders that he was not to be killed, instead they had resurrected him from the dead. He could have been done. This world no longer his responsibility. The Fey no longer his to protect or be concerned about. He should be dead, returned to the green where he should be able to rest for eternity. Instead, here he was, exhausted and cold, and so tightly wound that when the sound of a snapping twig reached his ears he found his feet in a fluid motion, sword drawn and at the ready. His eyes scanning the forest for signs of enemy and attack. Looking into the nighttide and saw nothing. Heart hammering rapidly in his chest he breathed deep and listened to darkness around him. No sounds followed the first. The tension does not leave his body. Slowly and carefully he makes his way around the perimeter of their camp stopping and listening occasionally. Satisfied that there is nothing nearby he returns to his location by the tree and settles in for a long night of waiting, wondering, worrying and overthinking.

#Fanfiction #Writing #Ao3 #Redemption My Love #Gawain and Lancelot #Gawain #The Green Knight #Lancelot #Lancelot the Weeping Monk #Squirrel #Percival #Cursed TV 2020 #Cursed Fanfiction #Lancewain #Enemies to allies to friends to lovers #Slowburn #Chapter 6

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waytoomanyinterests · 5 years ago

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Southern waterbending

You know what upsets me the most when it comes to war?

All the knowledge that’s just quietly destroyed, with no way of ever being recovered.

This makes me so damn sad and upset, and the example that comes to the forefront of my mind (and also what I’m going to discuss) is from the universe of Avatar the Last Airbender;

Southern-style waterbending.

Since the only ones who’ll read this are people that’s part of this fandom I don’t have to explain all that much.

But we all know Firelord Azulon ordered for the capturing of the Southern water tribe’s waterbenders, and as of the beginning of season 1 the only waterbender in the entire South Pole is Katara.

Since there are no master waterbenders in the South Pole, Katara has to go to the North Pole in order to learn and master waterbending.

This is all made clear in the show itself and I didn’t reflect on it cause duh, of course she has to go the place that actually have waterbenders.

The thing is that she learns the Northern style of waterbending, not Southern. (for obvious reasons but just wanted to make it clear)

That isn’t made as clear in the show, and I know I didn’t give it a second thought until S2E10 (the Library) and Wan Shi Tong delivers this line;

“Your waterbending won’t do you much good here. I’ve studied Northern waterstyle, Southern waterstyle, even Foggyswamp style”

Sokka immediately after is hilarious but not the point

Now this, this, is when I first went “woah, hold up - how the fuck is anyone supposed to learn Southern waterstyle bending?? All the benders are gone!”

And I mean this became a legit concern for me - I don’t want Southern waterbending to just disappear, but there isn’t anyone around who knows it anymore so what the frick is gonna happen.

Then comes S3E8 - The Puppeteer.

The minute everything is out in the open Hama offers to teach Katara what she knows and Katara is thrilled to learn more about her heritage.

I am too, because yay the Southern style won’t just disappear it’s party time!!!

And then it’s here! We’re at the edge of our seats, ready to learn all about another side of waterbending and-

She doesn’t bring up the Southern style. at. all.

Like yes okay, knowing how to survive in a foreign country is important but that’s not the heritage lesson I was expecting! (whining) I was expecting Southern waterbending!!

And it just frustrates me to no end that because Hama’s gone so is any chance of Southern waterstyle existing for the rest time!!

But then the solution came to me! (two actually, and I did get some inspo from different posts around the fandom for the Zuko one, but I haven’t seen the Aang one anywhere so Imma just take credit for it as of now lolol)

Solution 1:

- Zuko is looking through the vaults where most of the loot from the war is kept in search of something (don’t know exactly what)

- he’s doing it himself, cause frankly he’s in need of a break from his duties and he doesn’t really trust anyone else to do this

- after hours of fruitless searching he’s become quite irritated and is more forceful than he was when he began

- huffing, he tears open an ordinary looking chest and finds it filled to the brim with scrolls upon scrolls

- he groans as he knows he’s going to have to read each one, and after a few seconds of finding strength and resolve he begins the tedious work

- muttering under his breath he rolls out the first scrolls and to his surprise they’re filled with waterbending forms

- a bit more alert and curious he looks through more of the scrolls, and each one is filled with waterbending forms

- after thinking it through for a few seconds he shrugs and decides to give them to Katara, they don’t exactly do much use here and she will probably appreciate them

- a few weeks passes by before he has an opportunity to hand them over

- Katara rises an eyebrow at the chest he puts down by her feet, but he only gestures for her to look

- so she does

- the first scroll she picks up shows forms she’s never seen before and she teasingly congratulates Zuko on managing to find her waterbending forms she hasn’t known existed (“Very impressive, since I’ve at least seen practically every waterbending form out there”)

- she hasn’t seen any of the forms on the second scroll either, and she kind of starts to knit her eyebrows together in confusion

- nor has she seen any of the forms from the third scroll

- or the fourth

- or fifth

- or sixth

- by now she’s majorly confused and kind of scared cause what the fuck is this because she should have recognized at least one form by now, but nothing rings a bell

- knowing she probably won’t recognize any of the others either she decides to send one of the scrolls to Pakku to see if he recognizes them

- Pakku is at first just as confused as Katara and is examining the scroll when one of the elders walks by and throws a look at it over his shoulder

- “Oh, I remember watching the waterbenders perform the annual Solstice performance with these forms when I was just a little girl! It was magical”

- Pakku. just. freezes

- “Wait are you- are you saying that these are Southern style waterbending forms?!”

- the elder looks confused

- “There’s a difference between Northern and Southern waterbending? But yes, I especially remember that one -“ (points at a random form) “- it was a sight to behold when performed right, I can tell you that!”

- the elder then walks on with a small smile on her face, stuck in her memories

- Pakku on the other hand is just shellchocked at this discovery and unable to move

- when he does wake up from his trance he scrambles after a quill and some parchment to write back to Katara about this, knowing how important it will be to her since she’s the only Southern Waterbender left

- Katara gets the letter a few days after and practically collapses

- Zuko, whom was conveniently passing by the room Katara’s staying in at the palace, hears a lot of crashing from inside

- thinking an assasination in undercurrent he bursts into the room, fists flaming, only to find Katara on her knees with a letter in hand and the furniture in the room knocked down on the floor

- immediately putting out the fire on his hands he scrambles to console her which he does very awkwardly cause he’s still new to this but he’s trying and he’s just adorable

- when he can’t get a response from Katara he gently takes the letter and reads it himself

- and is left just as speechless

- but when he looks at Katara again, he panics

- cause tears are rolling slowly down her face, and he has no freaking idea what do to

- but as the tears roll faster and faster, and sobs racks her body she solves the problem herself by throwing her arms around Zuko

- he stiffens, unsure of what exactly to do but eventually wraps his own arms around her

- they stay like that for awhile, not talking but rather just calming down

- the silence is broken when Katara starts to chuckle

- chuckle

- Zuko is flabbergasted and very confused because she was just crying and now she’s chuckling but still crying and oh god what’s going on

- “Are- are you okay, Katara?”

- “I’m more than okay Zuko! Thanks to you the Southern waterstyle won’t die, it will live on”

- Zuko’s mouth forms an ‘O’-shape and Katara chuckles a bit more at his cute expression

- “Just this shows how different you are to your father - he would have burned them, but you saved them, gave them to me and now I can learn about my heritage! The Southern waterstyle bending will live on and it’s all thanks to you!”

- “I wouldn’t sell you too short either”

- then they just smile at each other

(alternatively Zuko was looking for Southern waterbending scrolls from the beginning as a present to Katara and knows what they are when he founds them)

(and Zutara is definitely canon)

Scenario 2:

- This time instead of Zuko wanting to find a present for Katara, it’s Aang who wants to

- he wants the perfect gift and is willing to go to any lengths to find it

- even if it means putting himself at danger

- he knows how disappointed Katara was when Hama didn’t really teach her anything of the Southern waterstyle bending

- so he decides to venture into the Spirit World

- more exactly to Wan Shi Tong’s library

- his goal is to convince the spirit to allow him to take the scrolls featuring Southern waterstyle bending

- which he knows will be probably impossible because Wan Shi Tong hates him after last time

- but he does it anyway, because Katara deserves to know about her heritage and this is the only solution as to how

- he stands outside the library a few seconds too much, trying to scrape up whatever courage he can find

- it’s barely anything

- knowing he can’t stall much longer without someone realizing he’s gone he enters the library

- immediately Wan Shi Tong is there, staring down at him with hard, unforgiving eyes

- “I haven’t the faintest clue why you’re even here Avatar - I thought I made it clear that you nor any human for that matter is welcome to my library”

- Aand bows to the ground, pressing his forehead to the floor

- “Honorable knowledge spirit, I know and understand I misused the trust you so graciously put in me and my friends last time we entered your library. I however beg of you to just let me go and collect the scrolls you have on Southern waterstyle bending - as of now there is not a single person in the living world who knows that style of bending, but I know the perfect person to bring the knowledge forward”

- “And just who would that be?”

- “Katara of the Southern Water tribe”

- “Ah, one of your little friends”

- “Yes, but she is from the South Pole and I know that it would mean the world to her if she could learn of her heritage. She would not misuse its power, but rather use it for the greater good. And besides, if knowledge isn’t shared then what is its purpose? Let the Southern waterstyle come to life again oh great spirit, don’t let it waste away here where it has no use”

- “Please?” (cue the puppy eyes)

- Wan Shi Tong is silent for a long time, scrutinizing and analyzing the young Avatar, trying to find what his real purpose of the knowledge is

- he finds nothing but honesty, sincerity and a want to make someone happy

- so against his better judgement he lets Avatar Aang collect the scrolls he has on the topic

- Aand beams up at this gigantic spirit as if it was an old friend and happily skips along

- “Oh, do you wish to come with me? So that you can see that I only collect the right scrolls? Besides, the faster I find them the faster I’ll be out of your hair!”

- Wan Shi Tong blinks once

- twice

- thrice

- “That’s quite alright Avatar, I’ll just send one of my foxes with you. But I appreciate your willingness to prove yourself”

- a fox appears and Wan Shi Tong disappears into the depths of the library, his silhouette the last Aang ever sees of him

- Aang quickly befriends the little fox who’s been assigned to him and they play while walking towards the waterbending section

- they quickly collect every scroll and book and scrap of paper they can find on Southern Waterbending before Aang takes his leave after hugging the fox

- before leaving he whispers a thank you into the library, and bows as well as he can with everything he’s carrying

- he doesn’t get an answer but he feels a lot lighter leaving then arriving, a sense of truce coming over him

- the fox watches the Avatar leave with droopy ears since his playmate has to go - he hasn’t had that much fun in a long time! - but also feels the satisfaction of a job well done as the Avatar seems happy

- the fox still wishes he could have stayed though, but he’s used to people arriving only to leave

- Aang on the other hand quickly makes sure he gets back to his body and the material world, feeling incredibly happy with the weight in his arms

- a week later it’s time to give Katara the present and Aang nervously bites his nails as she opens it, snickering at how nervous he his

- “Relax Aang, I’ll love it no matter what!”

- she finally opens one of the scrolls and throws a look at it

- “Ohh, waterbending scrolls! Neat, thanks Aang!”

- “Uhm, they’re eh, actually they’re not regular waterbending scrolls per se but rather, uhm, waterbending scrolls that show Southern waterstyle forms”

- he sheepishly rub his neck while Katara gapes at him

- “They’re- but how?- where?-“

- “Uhm, I kind of, maybe, sorta went into the spirit world and entered Wan Shi Tongs library and managed to convince him to give me the information he had on Southern waterbending and we became buddies or not really buddies more like we formed a truce but I did find a friend in one of the foxes and-“

- “You went into Wan Shi Tongs library?!”

- Katara punches him for that because “goddammit are you stupid Aang, you could have died and not even this is worth to pay the price of you dying!”

- she immediately hugs him afterwards though, long and tight because this idiotic little goofball did it for her and she couldn’t be more grateful or happy

- Aang happily returns it, having enough sense to pretend Katara isn’t sniffling cause he knows she trie to hide it

- Afterwards they immediately start to practice and it turns into a routine; they learn some new forms, discuss what differs the most from Northern waterstyle and also similarities

- they both enjoy it very much and has a lot of fun while practicing

Yeah so here Kataang is canon

(Psst, the good thing is that in either of those you can just pretend that they aren’t together if you don’t ship it)

Alright so that’s my take on it!

What do you think, is it possible? Good? Could it happen?

Also, Zutara or Kataang?

Hope you liked it, now bye bye!

(This took so long to write god damn I’m finished)

#atla #zutara #fanfiction #trope #kataang #waterbending #heritage #avatar #avatar the last airbender #im very passionate about this #i want this to be adressed more

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iasiney-blog · 4 years ago

Text

The Call of the Ancients

Wizar became aware of a knife of heat and pressure jabbing into him. Then he felt everything around him start to shake and it made him jolt out of sleep. He grogilly became attentive and then saw an apparition form at the foot of his bed fully in ghostly white form with pointed ears. He shied away in his bed as he wasn't too used to this. He worked with elvish ancestors before. The normal that the situation was supposed to be was still abnormal. The apparition spoke to him, "You must wake up. There is a great forbidden power that rouses. Can you feel it?" Wizar wasn't sure what to do at first but he did feel something else and it wasn't from the apparition. The apparition felt clean to him in aura and energy. The dirtier chaotic feeling thrust with a red hot poker struck into him again from somewhere that he couldn't sense. He winced psychically and he had a piece of the energy latch onto him. "You see. This is what your ancestors call upon you to cleanse. You must go now," The apparition called to him. He sat up in bed staring at where it had been. The elvish ancestors rarely came out so forcefully to their kindred. The vision gathered his strict attention and his mind fevered for a solution. He caught his senses and centered himself and emptied his thoughts. He got out of bed and donned his robe of the Mage and then the tunic of the Kundid mage and the sash of a common mage across his belt. Why were the ancestors coming to him rather than some empowered and more experienced mage? He slipped downstairs and beheld himself in the mirror. He had the pointed ears, yellow hair, yellow eyes and was as lithe as elves came. His tunic and robe and sash fit him snuggly. He sniffed the usual smell of clay that had dried and glanced at the walls. Mud house. He'd put that together with the help of his friends and family. He went to a long case on the way toward the door and inside he opened it up to behold his staff of an oak. It had a natural set of the letter of his first name in elvish. This was why he had choosen it without hesitation. It was no longer needed by the oak tree as it had just discarded it. He picked up the staff and went out the door into the moonlight. The dew and the wet grass smells wavered to him as well as a wormy nightcrawler edge to it. The crickets and frogs still chirped. Wizar oriented toward the frog croaks into the woods around his house. He started up a rise up and then down into a gully whereupon he came to a stream. He put his staff on the bank and waded out into the midst of the stream. There he turned around and said to the stream, "Eukta, Yukta, Oukta." The stream bubbled and coarsed and formed a thin column. That column filled out into an elvish form. It glided over to him and spoke in a watery smooth tone, "You seek to ask me advice, my friend?" "I was visited by an ancestor. I can feel something wrong. Do you feel it?" Wizar asked. He hadn't turned his mind to his purpose until then. Mostly all of it had been instinctual and along with his training. He hoped it wasn't true but his gut instincts were pulling toward some impenetrable obscure evil brooding far away. He had felt it on the way to the place, he realized, in the very air. "Yes. It broods. It grows. It comes daily now. It is felt by most that have even the slightest sense of the magic. It scars. And it has scarred you," The water spirit said. Wizar looked at the spirit agape and he searched his own aura and power and found the wedge of the jagged red energy in him. As he tried to put his mind around it, he felt the water energies creeping in and the spirits gently oozing the wounding energy away. He looked up toward the moon in relief and gave an, "Aaaahh, thank you." "You will go afar. The ones you meet as friends shall help you. One friend will show you the way to your goal even though it does not seem it is there," The water spirit emitted and stepped away sinking back into the stream. Wizar pushed out his senses but could feel the spirits all around writhing in the aura of the darkened forboding energy. He did not sense and move toward it. Instead, he passed back across the water and grabbed his staff. He hefted it aloft and started to wade across the stream, and held the staff up as the water came up to his chest in the middle. Then he was across and looked back at the stream a moment and started on. His mind then broke and he began to worry about his friends and family and what this evil meant for them. He did not have time to think further when a bolt of a deep red colored energy hit him. He felt it as the same forboding aura that caused all the pure energies to shudder. It brought him to his knees and rushed around him in a red storm painting everything that color. It then started to whisper and then roared before it collected into an audible booming voice. "You go to your folly. You do not know what it is you are doing, who you are, and what you seek. You step on haphazardly. You hope to best me, but you will not. You will sample our energy. Then when you finally make it to me you will use this energy against all that you hold dear," The voice hit him down and down. When it finished he felt disoriented, abruptly lost sense and collapsed in a heap. His dreams panned out red colored and were of his friends and family burning alive all around him. The forest was ablaze, the stream he was just in was dried up to a jaked caked earth bottom. His house was just a pile of mud with jagged pieces of bones writhing out of it. Then the dreams grew lesser in shades of red and death and soon were of him on a boat in the middle of a lake with water of mirror complextion at the top. In the mirror of the lake it was the evening and reflected the moon and starry sky above as he went from one shore to the other. A bump of the boat on rocks made him jostle out of his sleep. He opened his eyes to blurry lightened surroundings. It was trees mixed with browns and greens and blue skies. Then as he looked up he saw a blurry face come over and look down at him. He could make out pointy ears, blue eyes, yellow hair, and a set face. He started to stir but a feminine voice, light and airy said back to him, "Shhhh easy now. You've had a sickening level of energy cast on you. You need to rest. The ground and the roots are sapping away this energy from you and cleansing your aura and soul. Rest." He felt his vision swim and fatique come on him. Before he closed his eyes, a purplish black haired shape joined his field of vision and beside another red haired shape. He had another dream and in it he was in a cavern full of fire and lava with flames that leapt high toward the ceiling. Over across from the entrance ledge he stood on was the exit and reachable over the fiery chasm. He saw an elven maiden there being pulled away by shadows. She looked back and stretched her arm toward him. Everything went in slow motion then her mouth moved slowly as she was pulled away. He stretched his arm out toward her and stumbled off the ledge and down into the cliff. Before he hit the flames he snapped awake and heard the birds chirping and the rerr of distant water. His vision was still blurred when he opened his eyes. He focused and it all became clear. He was on his back in the forest looking up toward the sky. He started to move to get up and felt dizzy so laid himself back down with a groan in hopes it would stop the world turning so fast. He then moved his head finding that his surroundings no longer spun around him. "You hadn't better move. You had a nasty bout," He heard a gruff voice say and he moved his head slowly. What he saw jerked his senses up as he saw it was a purple black furred puma. Not just a regular puma but a Hyrugar. They were of the types of blessed animals that walked and talked like elves but had features and fur of animals. "Honestly, don't you know how to defend yourself magically," he heard another voice and made a gasp as he saw another Hyrugar that was a red furred monkey. "Egh," was what he admitted as he sat up with his head swimmy. He felt if he'd had too much root wine. His put his hand to the back of his head and kept himself from staring at the Hyrugar. He'd never seen this many gathered together. They were usually accorded such high positions in elvish society accordingly with their natural affinity with nature. They usual were regulars at Temples and few and far between in other places. Their pilgrimmages had them wearing shrouds. Truly he did a double take as he'd never seen them so informal as they both were now. The elfess sat down before him, "I am Admona." "Serah," the puma admitted shrugging from here seat up against the tree. She wore a dark plumed armor of sorts, although Wizar could sense the power humming from it more than he could tell what it was made of. "Evers," the monkey said over his shoulder. He was crouched down, looking around randomly through the forest. "Are you temple or shrine trained?" Admona asked. Wizar looked at her. Temple meant the old relic sites from ancient Magineania. Shrines were newly constructed ones. The training was different. But he said, "Neither. Magic guard of the Kundid order." Serah scoffed, "How typical? Gotta' love that training. Can't even shoo away pests with that." "Serah," Admona snapped at her. Evers laughed and stood up. He hopped onto one leg and onto a red oak climbing it fast and was soon toward the top of the tree and eventually called down, "It is clear now. That energy went back somewhere. I can't see or sense it." "That was an abrupt attack. Some evil spirit," Admona said. "Demon," Serah said barely enough to be heard. The way she said it brought both their attention to her. Her expression went from looking down and with furrowed brow was now looking ahead alert almost a tail edge of fear Wizar thought he saw. Admona and Wizar looked back at each other. Admona laughed, "Don't mind her. Anywas, we'll be going. Uhhh where were you going?" Wizar stood up, "I should report to the local garrison. But." Admona tilted her head to the side, "But what?" Wizar was thinking about telling his unit commander or the shrine priest about what happend. Then again it seemed far distant, almost as far fetched. "Nothing. And uh thank you," He said picking up his staff and started away from them. "Uh wait. Maybe we could go with you, where is your unit garrisoned?" The elfess asked walking after him and gestured to her other companions. A few minor leaf shakings and Evers was down on the ground starting to say, "Yeah, Admona, we are supposed to g," but Admona glanced back at him and he stopped. "Yeah, we should visit the Gamsa Shrine," She said with crossed furred arms and looked ahead with her usual furred brow expression. Wizar saw a shape of another elvish ancestor fade into view ahead. His walk and manner slowed down although it didn't slow down itself. The elder in the shade wore a dress and had long tresses of hair. Then the elf saw that the elder was standing wide-eyed with her arms stretched out toward them in a stopping gesture. Her mouth was moving but there was no sound. He felt off suddenly and pushed his will to pull his feet back and halt his progress forward and turned his head to see something beastly red with jagged crackling ethereal edges open mouthed right on him. Then he was yanked and tossed out of the way suddenly and all the surroundings snapped back out of their slow down. He saw Serah go away from her gesture of tossing him aside to grabbing the beast and knocking it away. Wizar heard the snarling all around. They had outlines of wolves but were summoned by an evil tether of energy that came from far distant. His newly joined companions spread out but kept in a type of triangle. Admona had her hands out one palm forward pointing up and one palm toward her facing down. She was standing well balanced on one leg and had a shield of energy surrounding them all between the wolf spirits. Evers was standing in even stance and Wizar blinked as he twirled the energy around as if he was twirling around ropes. He kept flourishing like this while they stood there waiting. Serah lastly had drawn herself up into a taller stance and had her paws out in front of her palms forward the tips close together but just not touching. Their combined energy sent him into a flutter but he snapped to and picked up his staff. "Nen- shen – je – sheh- aloo," He said bringing his magic focus up to his staff tips and they started to glow with small green round lights alighting on each of the five tips. The wolves attacked. Serah had a wolf spirit knocked in the previous direction crashing and smacking off of several trees. Evers did a blur of a swirling whip arc with his energy ropes and cleaved a few wolves in two. Wizar put a few fingers to his mouth as Admona started to hover while bumping those creatures that attacked off her magic shield. "Sahack," Wizar said bringing his staff bottom to tap the ground and a green bolt erupted and flew at one of the wolves that was about to strike the shield. "Creshon," He spat out and a jagged green lightning sparked and connected with another wolf spirit about to impact the shield. Then, that was all. The wolf spirits turned tail and dissapeared into the underbrush. Admona dropped her shield with a sigh and settled down on both feet on the ground. "Corrupted," Serah emitted coming back over toward them. "You must have a grudge out on you, my fair elvish companion," Evers added. Admona's expression was set similar to Serah's but with drawn eyes, "We definitely want to reach that shrine and your garrison very quickly." The Gamsa shrine was near the Ulvo protector garrison where Wizar reported when on duty. He was not a regular with the garrison but after finishing his training was slowly easing into a full protector there. It had a few full protectors and several others were filling in in hopes to become full protectors there. They passed through the front of the arch into the narrow stone line path up toward the Reymos river and across the stone bridge into the village. Then, they passed the quiet gleaming circular structure in a shallow hallow of the Gamsa shrine. "You should stop by the shrine while we are here," Admona spoke and said nothing more and neither did Wizar and the two Hyrugar went with her without adding anything themselves up the path to the shrine. Wizar sighed and finished moving down the path toward the rectangular structure in the middle of the village with the symbol of the Kundid order of protectors. The structure had two rooms, one that combined bunks and mini armory. The other that was the front desk, records and rooms for kitchen and living. A few of the partial protectors and full protectors were on guard around the ring of the village center here. "Is the captain in?" He asked them. "Yeah, but hey, something's going on. He'll fill you in," a veteran named Izale said. Wizar hesitated, "What do you mean?" "Got a lot of tail edges of bad energy. The temple had a layperson deliver a message. Get in there," a fellow mage Couras added in. "Wow, ok," Wizar commented and promptly went inside. The rooms weren't big and only had light from magical lanterns other than the windows. The captain stood aside one of the central desks and was peering over a document. Wizar knew him to be matter a fact and knew to get to the point and get his information across quickly. His typical elvish hair was in a few small knots and trimmed short. His uniform was also creaseless and had no spec of dirt. He was a veteran of the protectors, in the Gelieshen City, the heart of the Sacred Lands. "Oh Wizar. Here. Sit down a moment," Captain Gregind sat down at the chair across from the desk and Wizar sat in a chair on the other side of the account. "You might have felt that tail of bad energy earlier on the way here," Gregind said. Wizar nodded and started to say something but Gregind held up his hand. Wizar suppressed a grimace. "As you know, the Zin border protectors along the south were still bolstered along with Boulos to the north with the recent civil war from Zin and the attempted treachery of Boulos. So, we don't have enough people to investigate this, though. But we have asked for help. The temple thinks it was close. We are to maintain a normal presence in town. The Marshall doesn't want us to do anything yet. You'll be staged and patrolling toward the east side with Teren. We can't afford to send anyone out further," Gregind finished and stood up. Wizar did too and then started, "Captain, I~" The footsteps of a dark haired elfess with the robes with the sacred temple symbols made both of them turn toward the door as she went right up to the captain and handed an emerald. The captain clutched it in his hand, close his eyes and touched it to his forehead. His ears soon twitched. He slowly lowered the stone and stared at Wizar with an expression that could be mistook for stunned but to Wizar looked to veil a scowl that he knew the captain did in the small amount of time he was a protector there. "Report to the temple. They will be giving you orders. You follow them now," His voice was a whisper, almost a hiss. Wizar hesitated and the Captain made a quick dismissive motion at Wizar whereas he jerked to and spun around following the elfess out. "My name's Wizar," He said to the elfess as they went past all else back down the path toward the temple. She didn't say anything for a moment then smiled at him saying,"Eh~Sizar." "What?" Wizar stopped and she saw he stopped and stopped and looked back at him. "Yeah. Coincidence?" She asked but her features went more somber and thoughtful and she looked off toward the cow grass off the side of the path. "Well~" Wizar started. "C'mon. Priest Myuin expects you," Sizar said. Myuin was the priestess of the temple. Wizar only saw her from a distance since he came to town. He could only really see that she was faired as far as elves went but otherwise was too veiled out from the presence of the holy tree. The temple was round and had an opening at the top that allowed a beam of holy light to alight the sparkling golden yellow tree that grew in the midst in a patch of grass, flanked by magic stones, plants, and having altars around the steps down that ringed it. Then half the way from there and the outer walls was a ring and low wall of glistening stone. Wizar saw several individuals as well as a few in hoods, one paying respects on the other side, in the middle ring Wizar recognized as Yerah from the town. He didn't recognize any other but Serah, Evers, and Admona. Wizar knew the average lore and attended the local Shrine during his childhood. It was a year or two since he attended one regularly. So he remembered, in respect, to kneel with Sizar at the entrance and those inside nodded so they approached just to the middle ring and knelt down there. A couple of the robed individuals joined them and knelt down beside them at the wall. "Wizar, you may approach the inner circle," one fair haired robed elfess said and Wizar nodded, stood up and approached the inner circle and was bid to knell down before the priestess in line of the tree. He wondered if this was Myuin but couldn't tell. "In order to go further, it is required that you must undergo a test of spirit," the elfess said. Admona moved further into the circle and everyone looked down and away from Admona for a moment and then when they looked back up she held a shiny tray with a single wide curved leaf on it. "Praised be the leaf of the sacred tree, " everyone intoned around him and he repeated out of habit. Wizar felt his body tense up, he'd heard the lore but not met anyone who had done this as it was considered sacred knowledge for much of the lore on the leaves of the sacred trees themselves. When Admona approached him he went wide eyed, even when everyone kneeled with her when she kneeled with the leaf. He remembered hearing some visiting foreigners to his hometown's marketplace. They were saying that the leaves made you see things that weren't there. They used a word that sounded like hallucinate He didn't know that word exactly, other than that it induced some state. They didn't have an exact equivalent in elvish for it. "You must eat this. It'll send you into a waking dream. There you will talk to the elders and they will guide you," Admona spoke in almost a whisper then bowed her head toward Wizar and everyone else did and the distant sound of a trickle of water and rustling tree was all he heard. Wizar shakily reached out a hand, and grasping brough it shakily to his mouth and chewed up the bitter leaf. He suppressed a gag on the juices but swallowed the leaf clutching his eyes closed to help him swallow it forcefully. When he looked back everything was blurry, then everything faded until things were pitch black. He stretched out his hands and legs and couldn't touch ground but was floating in nothingness. He drifted here for a moment, before noticing a light starting in front of him. He couldn't move toward it. Then he noticed glowing apparitions of an elder elf and elfess that he recognized. Then the water spirit drifted in with them and the elders held his hands. Wizar tried to move away but they clutched him tight the elfess and elf saying almost in unison, "Stay with us lest you drift away in the oblivion forever without a way out." They seemed to move now in a pitch forward but toward the light. It got brighter and then surrounded them. "Stay with us and allow us to guide you in the light, lest you fall into the light and you will die," The water spirit said. Wizar felt they stopped to drift and seemed to be waiting there for something. Then, after a time Wizar noticed a figure get closer and closer until it was a glowing ghostly elf in flowing features. He spoke plainly directly to Wizar, his mouth moving but the speech sounded to him far away. "Your elders and family are humble protectors of the Magineans of the Sacred Lands. And that you the protectors should get the gift of gifts to be the best of the protectors of the Magineans," the ghostly elf spoke. "Who are you?" Wizar emitted. The elder smiled, "I am the elder of elves. That elder of all elves. And here in your heart receive the best of gifts to smite this evil that stirs. But you must seek the wisdom of the elder family of holy trees in the regal temples of the sacred lands. Go to the temple of the protector. There take of the sacred fruit. There, find the path to purge the evil poison in the sacred lands." The elder of elders produced a staff from behind him. It had three points curcled like branches at the top and also the bottom. This sent reverberations through him like lightning. At the same time, the light, elders, and water spirit withdrew and Wizar felt himself falling toward an opening that he didn't think he could pass through. Then it grew large enough and he noticed that it was the temple and hisself and the others were standing there as he remembered them looking at him. He drifted around the sacred tree feeling exhilerated around it and fell back down toward his body and entered it snapping back aware inside of it like slapping the surface of water. Everyone jerked a step back after that. They stared at him and Wizar looked around at them and noticed the tip of a finger was glowing then examining himself noticed a faint glow that seemed to highlight hisself and the staff he now suddenly held in his right hand and the ground. He picked it up and held it up looking at it and found he was standing up. As he did he saw everyone now knelt down and he looked at them abashed. "My~ lord. What did the elders say?" Admona asked in a barely audible whisper from her kneeling position. Admona was a Priestess of the 3rd circle and esssentially one of the six High Priestesses in the Sacred Lands of the Council of nine. She had a vision to visit the shrine and present the leaf to a humble protector she was to meet on the way there. The remainder of the ventinue, even the local that was worshipping at the time received a whisper or a vision from an elder from their family of elders that went on or apparition of another elder. So, beginning with Wizar, they each recounted their vision. Myuin said in a strained whisper that the sacred tree would be threatened and that she would have to give up something precious. The four hooded ones were monks, Wizar guessed. They each had been given a very symbolic decree to go to the four corners of the sacred lands and bear witness to all the temples and sacred sites what they'd seen today. Admona said she received a vision to follow a light that eminated from the sky and made the darkness of the land retreat. Serah said she saw a vision of a rock that held fast against a devestating storm and sheltered a light from being snuffed by the pelting rain. Evers said he saw a light in the trees and whichever way it went was close by his view. Sizar was silent a moment until everyone was looking at her in silence. She said at length, "I~ am going with you." "This~" Myuin was wide eyed at her. Sizar knelt down and bowed her head muttering. "It appears Me, Evers, Admona, are to go with Wizar as well. The banishing of the dark and protector of the Magineans," Serah admitted. "Of course we are," Evers added in. "We are to help him on his pilgrimmage to find the light," Serah admitted. Wizar made a step toward Sizar, as he could tell she was visible trembling. The monks had already kneeled out of the temple on their way with solemn expressions that turned to smiles as they left the entrance into the temple. The ancient ruins were located to the North and East nearer the mountains. They planned to start toward there, stopping by a few temples before there on the way as the journey would take several days. Myuin expressed concern over the vision she received to Admona. Admona talked with her aside from Wizar and the others. They then turned to Wizar. Wizar looked back at them and then realized they were waiting for him to lead on. He didn't expect this and balked but started a foot forward and they went toward the exit of the temple. When they exited they Captain Gregind and five of the protectors were there. The captain stepped forward expressionless and said, "Take Wizar into custody." "Whoa, captain, I thought we were coming to see him away," Izale stepped aside the captain with a sweeping spread of his hands. "Take him," The captain exclaimed pointing at Wizar. "What has he done? Captain," Couras added in forrowing his brow as the three remaining protectors surrounded Wizar and they took him back to the garrison and moved him into the bunks and down into the stocks in the lower levels there. It was lit by candles and grew darker when they reached the bottom level. They tried to take the staff from Wizar but it burned them to their touch. They chained him up over his wrists on the wall and shackled his legs. "You may leave," The captain said and with some hestitation, the other protectors left. "That's going to grow tiring to hold," The captain said, a wide grin on his face. Wizar was taken aback. It was too much smile on someone he'd used to see so serious. He stretched his magical senses and found that a foreign red colored aura swooped around the Captain aside from his normal aura. He stayed in the position he was in in the stocks and looked at the Captain regularly. Soon, he felt the staff droop and start to fall. There was a sudden commotion clank of metal and a waft of bursts of magic. Admona with Evers and Serah were then hurrying down the stairs toward them at the bottom. The Captain spun about and unsheathed his curved sword and sunk into a defensive stance. Evers leapt to the right, Serah charged and Admona weaved about as the two Hyrugar distracted the Captain to unshackle Wizar with magic. Then she lead him away and up back into the barracks. There, Couras and Izale awaited him "I'm sorry, Wizar. The captain went crazy," Izale spoke. "He isn't himself. He might be influenced by something not him," Wizar told them. Couras looked away and down. Izale's eyes went wide. "Yes, he is entranced by some wicked influence," Admona said. "What could we do to help him?" Izale asked. Wizar noticed something, a tension release such as when someone cracks their knuckles coming from down below. It felt relieving to him, "I think it's ok." "What do you mean?" Couras asked. Evers and Serah soon appeared in the entrance to the underground compound. Serah carried Captain Gregind slumped over the crook of her arm. "Whoa, don't you think you overdid it," Admona's expression got serious. "Not at all. Just knocked unconcious," Evers added and they took him over and laid him on one of the bunks across the room and retreated to the next room to let him rest. "Do you think you've got this without the captain?" Wizar asked. "You've got nothing to worry about," Izale reassured. "Just be watchful," Wizar said staring absently while the description of Myuin's vision of the destruction played across his mind. The goodbyes were curt and the supplies were gathered and the journey began promptly although soon after leaving town, Evers and Serah were expressing the distaste on Wizar's abilities. "And with the gift. I mean with the ancestral gift, I can't even touch the staff see," Evers added while reaching over and trying to touch the staff and his paw trembling more the closer he got. Wizar felt the resistance but didn't push the resistance himself back. "Terrible. These gifts are miracles in the hands of an experienced of the temple trained. But what do we got, a one off protector," Serah commented as well. "Stop it! You two. He will learn. He's only just begun the journey," Admona scowled making a dismissive motion. "We might as well go home," Evers scoffed and said. They drifted back and argued on with Admona. Sizar kept pace with Wizar and mentioned, "I don't know anything. They seem to ignore me." Wizar glanced at her and looked ahead. He didn't know much what the layperson did for the temples other than relay messages. "I just clean this and water that. I replant and uproot bad roots. I take messages back and forth. I wash the robes, prepare and clean the altars," Sizar continued more to herself. "Have you seen this before?" Wizar asked. "What? The ancestral blessing?" Sizar looked at Wizar and Wizar looked at her. He took in her features and she looked back at him seeming to do the same. Then they both looked away with slightly rosier colors to their features. He didn't realize how beautiful she looked up close. "I have but not since I was a little one. This is rare. Your blessing is. Well. It doesn't happen that often. I havent' seen your particular blessing before. Not many have," She continued at length as they both looked back ahead. Wizar almost stopped in thought. Sizar must've noticed this as she said, "I know the ancient story though that tells about it which is why this is~ well it is exciting. It is humbling." "What's the story?" Wizar asked. Sizar hesistated thoughtfully considering then went into the story, "A long time ago when the first elves started the Kingdom of the Shimmering, an unease started in the center of the land. It grew over the Shimmering King. He called his priests and magicians. They could not ease the pain of the land. Then, a seer with a maimed foot called to see his majesty claiming to know a solution. At least five times did the king refuse to see this soothsayer. Then when he was finally brought before the king, he was starving. So, in his final breath he said to seek the six ways, find this one of six streams. Therein he consulted his advisors and sent messengers out to all the villages and shrines. "Then word came of a place on the cusp of seven rivers a hut there where a family was. The king went there and the family humbly received his majesty. He asked all the family to be brought before him and the daughter was right and fit and the son was sickly for he had nearly drowned in the seven rivers. They brought him to the local temple nearly a days journey away whereas the boy almost died. "The boy awoke one day and spoke of a dream where he met the first elf and ancestor of all. He gave the boy a special staff and a blessing and told him to journey to the sacred sites to receive direction.The king ignored the sickly boy and took the daughter to heal the land. "The daughter could not heal anything, though, and the unease grew until the rivers were threatening to flood and the family had to move to higher ground. The boy was not there when they had packed their wagon on. They found him nearly swept away from the river but the boy outstretched his hands and the waters grew still and the sky parted to a calm night. "The parents knew the boy was special and brought him to the ancient temples and on the way soon reached the center of the unease. The king was near death and the daughter cowered in the corner. The King had received word of the renown of the boy and realized his folly. Then with the boy's help he was able to end the unease and bring peace and prosperity back to the Kingdom." "I heard of a different version," Admona spoke making them jump. "This reminds me that I first heard the ancient story at the elder temple ruins we go toward," Evers added in. Serah came up beside Wizar and swiped down at him and he barely dodged her. "What are you doing?" Wizar exclaimed and barely dodged again. They circled around and she went after him and finally tripped him and held her claws up to his throat. He could barely breath. "You're kidding me. He's weak. Put away this kid stuff and stories Sizar. This isn't some ancient prophesy. We're not facing some obscure unease or whatever it is. This evil power is real," Serah shot the layelfess an icy stare. Wizar felt himself light headed. "He isn't. But it's a story," Sizar's voiced came out strained. The puma released Wizar and he gave a croak raising his staff, "What are you doing?!" Admona jumped in between them, "Stop it, now!" "You. I'd expected better. And you, you will get better," Admona scolded Serah first and took Wizar back by turning to him with the second part. They continued much of the way in silence heading North West across the forest land ascending up and down steep hills toward the next town called Azlele. Wizar stepped up beside Sizar and it took him a moment but he asked, "So, the elders just said to go with me?" Sizar sighed, "Yeah, that's just it." "Really. Huh," Wizar let himself trail off looking here or there. He smiled because he didn't really believe that was all but he let it go despite it starting to pull at him to know. "Yeah," She trailed off too. "Do you know much about these temple ruins?" He asked. "A little. The nine ruins were built for each of the eleven Kedelvian virtues. Wisdom, piety, vision, courage, integrity, perserverance, hospitality, moderation, fertility," Sizar replied. "So, each one was dedicated to a virtue?" Wizar asked. "I would think so. I only heard it spoken by Priest Lirn when he was teaching me to be a layperson," Sizar added. "Oh, you weren't from there?" Wizar said. "What do you mean?" Sizar questioned. "Oh. Sorry. You weren't born in the Gamsa town?" Wizar corrected smiling. "No. No I wasn't. I was born in Relonatur, " Sizar said smiling back looking at him. Wizar noticed the smiling exchange and looked away flushed. "And you?" Sizar asked at length. "Ferduun," Wizar said and memories went back to sitting on the high bank behind his house and watching the elvish retinue of high mages traveling to and from the Saheguit. Sizar ducked as a bird swooped at her, "Must be at the nest." "Yeah, whoa~" Wizar started to say when another bird swooped at him. "Move away," Admona said backing up away from the tree. They did so and moved around it and skirted the path dodging the birds until they were away from it. Then another set of birds started to swoop at them. Then another as they went down the path. This caused them to duck and weave and nearly get scratched up as they went about their way. Wizar heard it differently, an incessant squawking that seemed to come from everywhere, not just the birds. It sounded bigger as of a larger bird. The heart beats of the birds filtered into him and became a flutter of pounding like heavy rain on a roof. He felt it deep inside. He wanted to do something but he didn't have any magic to quiet them all down. Then, something welled up from inside him. It felt to him as a reassurance that he could do something to help else the birds and they. All of the squawking and noise only made him want to concentrate on one word and he emitted a long low, "Shhhhhhhh." Everything went calm and peace. The birds hearts thundering trailed off getting low and lower. Wizar only felt some tail edge of a sinister influence retreating from underneath it all, much like an unearthed earthworm retreats underground back to where it feels it must go. They continued along and stopped along a whitened stone waystation with stone benches to sit on off the road after walking for most of the day. These were nearly as ancient as the sacred temple ruins they were journeying toward. Wizar felt a strong connection in the roots with some power that was hardy and pure but very ancient tied into it. He could barely make out that the power pulsed like a dim light traveling down the road from them and meeting in the first temple on the branch of the tree in the middle of it at a lone fruit there. "He can see it," Serah said. Admona came over with Sizar and Evers had crawled atop the roof of the waystation. Wizar felt a little put on, "Like a course of energy path pulsing toward the temple, and the fruit on a tree. "The blessing is opening up you faculties much more. You'll be much more sensitive than I am," Admona said. "Don't be so sad," Serah said. "No, quite the opposite. I am thrilled," Admona said smiling. Wizar and the group supped and packed up and continued walking on the road. They reached the town of Azlele as the light of the day started turning toward evening. The inn had only a few beds. "Do we want to take turns," Serah said. "I think we can handle staying up," Evers said putting an arm on Wizar's shoulders. Wizar nodded as he was still conditioned to take late watches on occassion, those which he didn't get much if any sleep on. "He is going to take the Elder's fruit. Only high priests and Hyrugar have eaten even a piece fruit, but he is asked to take the whole thing. It is very toxic to Elves. No, he'll be the one that needs the sleep," Admona said. Wizar's mouth dropped open at hearing about the poisonous properties of it. This made his demeanor shaky. "Yeah, he looks a little pale now. Don't worry, Hyrugar have some immunity to it. We take it with ease," Evers said and Wizar tried to smile and left them slipping up into the room. He placed his staff in the corner of the room and hanging up his over robe, crawled into bed. Sleep didn't come easily. When he finally drifted off to sleep he had a dream that the elders were gathered around him again. The elder of elders gave him the fruit. "You're going to die," The elder cackled as he took the fruit and took a big bite off of it. His voice reached a higher pitch, "Die. Die. Die. Die." His form became redder and fiery and his body split apart and his skull grew bigger and shot toward him. He woke up starting forward and stopped as his head smacked against a bed post. It was early morning and the birds chirped and he heard others stirring and calls and a whistle from outside and the movement of carts and clop of hooves. He put on his overrobe and picked up his staff before going downstairs. No one was in there but some already disheveled drunk elf and the innkeep cleaning mugs. He burst outside almost hit Sizar but instead made her take a seat on the ground. "I'm sorry," he said picking her up and their eyes locked and for a moment they didn't say anything or move. Serah cleared her throat and he saw she had a serious look so asked, "What happened?" Admona had been looking off into the distance and turned around, her face puffy with the remnants of tears, "They umm. It umm." She turned back away. Evers came close and said calmly to him, "As soon as we left, some eclipse of darkness went over the shrine of Gamsa. Myuin and those in it were found dead, the shrine cracked in two, the tree stained black, completely dead. Wizar looked at Admona and then at Sizar who was the most stoic. He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. He found some pulsing emotion from the ordeal and sunk to his knees hanging his head for a while thinking over the Priestess he barely knew. He felt a hand on his shoulder at one point and looked up to a solemn Admona, "We need to go. Whatever is turning the land upon itself we can't let get anything more on us." Wizar got up and they moved down the cobbled road toward the path to the stones presiding at the entrance to the grounds of the ruins. "What do you mean?" Wizar asked. "You probably know. What has attacked us or tried to hinder us, like nature itself went crazy," Admona said. Their trek to the other side of the town was solemn, almost in slow motion, the town's citizens went about their hectic day around them. Then only when they reached the entrance to the ruins did the speed of everything seem to catch up. It was then Wizar felt chilled and saw dark skies moving from southward toward them. He watched it and noticed it moved fast. Much faster than was normal and it felt to him of decay and death. "Evers and Serah, the ancients' wall, "Admona said looking toward the darkness. "Whatever evil it is it caught up with us," Evers said blankly and went to one of the stones around the entrance to the ground. Serah did the same. Then they activated some old power that made everything shimmer to life. The dark clouds reached them quickly but the shimmering did act like a wall blocking it off. Although Wizar saw and felt that it kept the sky from growing dark but only gradually as the edges started to grow grayer. "C'mon," Admona motioned to Sizar and Wizar. They followed and mounted the steps up onto a raised bridge from what looked to once be six fully intact walkways in glistening white stone. It met in the center and Wizar saw the branches of the tree poking out from the semi crumbled dome at the center. It looked similar to the shrine did at Gamsa except was more open air theatre type and had a bright green grass surrounding an inner gate and low wall in the center. The tree itself was bigger but Wizar couldn't see the fruit but felt it was there. A few figures stood up there. Two of them were the monks from earlier and another one was an older man in white robes that Admona bowed too. Wizar mirrored her move although not sure why. "Grand Priest, here is Wizar that was awakened by the elder tree leaf," Admona said to him. The old man nodded and took out an object from his robe. It was round and had several curved lines on it like the curved lines on his staff. "Kneel, Son," the Grand Priest said. Wizar did as he was told. The Grand Priest held out the fruit to him saying, "This is one of the biggests tests you've had your whole life. Eat it and pass through the veil of sickness to be something whole worthy of speaking on behalf of all Elders." Wizar took the fruit feeling a little gnaw of fear that grew a bit. He pushed his will and himself forward and put the fruit up to his mouth. He opened and took a bite. It was numb and bitter but also had a cool tranquil edge to it that ended in something sweeter. He took another humble bit and then bigger bites. His mouth became number, then his body after each bite and thankfully the fruit still tasted a little sweet. He ended up at a seed and the elder plucked it from the fruit. He ate past it and was stopped by another seed but that was it and soon he ate it all. He body felt completely devoid of feeling and his stomach swimmed and sloshed with a bitter feeling and a tinge of sweetness still in his mouth. Then a hot feeling started small at his heart and started to burst out from his body. He expected it to make him feel invigorated but instead it made him drowsy and sleepy. The weight of this continued until he couldn't stay awake and passed out. He felt himself drifting on a raft made of gilded leaves. Everything was shimmering. The waterways appeared to be in woodend walls like the inside of tree roots with the occassional hole in the ceiling that revealed a bright blue sky speckled with cloud and bright sunshine that warmed and made him feel peaceful. The water lapped gently on his raft as he drifted further. Soon, he noticed the branches and the outline of a tree. He appeared to be drifting toward it. He almost sat up as he saw the roots extended into the distance and as he got closer to the tree he thought he saw water inside those roots flowing toward the tree as he was. He saw shapes of ghosts of the elders all around it. Then a bright glow started in front of him shimmering from inside the tree to outside of it expanding outward until it touched him. Then he got a prickly feeling all around him that felt like magical energy. The light got brighter and brighter. He opened his eyes and felt that he was laying. His vision was a little blurred. Through it he saw the branches of the tree above him. An older wrinkled face came over him. He looked like the elder of elders from the dreams. Then his features and everything came into better focus and it was the Grand Priest looking over him wide eyed. Wizar sat up and everyone took a step back and sunk to their knees abashing Wizar immediately. He saw above a clear blue sky. He felt a glow all around him that seem to emminate from him outward. He didn't see the darkness on the other side. He felt serene, calm and straightforward as if pieces of the puzzle of everything was lined right at its correct place. Except just outside the temple outskirts into the death and decay that encroached. He also felt another off feeling far distant, something wasn't right there as well but he knew deep down inside he felt he knew how to put both wronged parts the puzzle back in order. He stood up and everything went a bit brighter when he just concentrated from doing that. He felt a little dizzy. There were a few stone benches there and he sat down on one of them. He looked at the ruined dome and other bits that were once together but were crumbled. The longer he stared at them the more they seemed to move and shift. He soon thought he was seeing a vision of them restoring themselves to how they originally were. He shook his head in surprise but not so much disbelief as this was real. Everything seemed to get brighter like the sun came from behind the clouds and shone on it, but the sun wasn't out but behind the clouds. He stood up but then knew as all the puzzle pieces floated just above place as it was to be and settled into place, so did the temple right itself from ruins to pieces of stones fitting into where they once were built to be all right before their very eyes. A few hours passed as he walked around the grounds and it all re-assembled back whole from the ruins, all of it, from the barrier stone fence permiter to some of the the various buildings around the center, to the stone walkways and paths toward the edge of the ruins. Soon it was ruins no more but rebuilt by the pure magic of the elders that flowed through him now. He knew this now. It was so. Then he felt his gaze pull him and turned somewhat to the south and panned and shot forward pulling his vision forward to show a spike of red energy in the midst of the region southward there. He turned back to others who had followed him at a subdued pace. "I can see it. That evil," Wizar said. Wizar looked in Sizar's direction. He knew his feelings for her were getting to be more than just common each time they talked now. He knew he had better go to the next level with it and find out if the feeling was mutual. He felt it might be mutual since it was the way she looked back at him and how he felt around her. The new elder blessings did not bring things closer or better. In fact, she seemed to shy away. That, and the fact that their new retinue was gawked at. Wizar was told it was because how he looked, shimmering without shimmering or glowing without glowing. He didn't look like an ordinary elf now or more specifically he did but those that he talked to could feel something much more base and connecting with everything about him. It made Wizar feel like a walking ancient elder that lived and breathed like anyone else. When he looked at anyone, even the bravest looked away after a moment. He wanted to pull it back in, the shimmering glow as he thought of it, but it felt unnatural to think of, almost as a hurt or slight to the elder of elders. Instead, they attracted pilgrims and the most devout. Elves of many shapes and sizes and Hryugar, first a bird, then a lion, then a rhino, then a stag, and then many more. They followed them after they passed on crossroads or some distance away from the nearest shrine. Wizar felt his gaze ever drawn toward the red spike. It felt like a pulsing thorn in the earth and stood against anything natural let alone any elder that ever was. He almost drifted toward it, not that he felt that he had to merge with it or get the power of it but that he had to deal with it someway. Instead, the Grand Priest insisted to present him before the other high priests. The Gazenhet druid order also contacted him and the Saheguit and were ready to march off now to take care of the evil. Admona, Evers, and Serah had joined in the sentiment to deal with the evil but his holiness would not hear of it and insisted it was time to meditate and get the will of the land and elders before going on to conquer evil. So, they rode onto Silvan City and down the many streets and through the main street in a parade of its own until reaching the spires of the Grand Temple. It was at the outskirts Wizar started to notice that the spike had started to send off a current toward the direction of the city. Then, when they passed inside of the temple he felt a sharp set of evil energy pouring off of the hearts of some of the guards inside. He stopped long enough at this that Sizar asked, "What's wrong?" "We shouldn't be here," Wizar spoke but said no more. "It is tradition. The story goes. It is said that the boy in the tale came to the city and holy temple for guidance before heading on his journey," Sizar shrugged and said. "Really, it was different than what you told me," Wizard said smiling at her. "That is the version I tell the children. I know, you're not a child but I thought~" Sizar said and trailed off looking away. "Don't worry," he said and touched her shoulder and she looked at him and he smiled back. She grabbed his hand. "We can talk about it later. I just feel better with you like it doesn't matter what I feel, things will be better," Wizar said and it was the truth. He felt she had something deep in her heart that besides maybe some feelings for him, was some level of pure that felt akin to the feeling around and with the blessings of the Elders. They had taken horses so dismounted at the stables on the temple yard and went toward the inner sanctum. The tree there was peaking out of the dome in the center and had the theatre style as the ruins did with the benefit of being fully intact since upon first coming to it. Around the middle seven people were set apart from the outer ring of many clergy dress. The outer ring was where the pilgrims started to fill. Wizar made a start as he saw the outstretching thin tendrils of the red energy going into the hearts of those at the center. The evil was in their hearts. It was a practical trap. Yet something happened, as Wizar got closer, the energy started to flutter and the ones started to back away but could only go so far. Wizar grasped the hand of Sizar and it seemed a brilliant wave jumped out from them and struck out the dark energy completely and the ones in the center collapsed. There were cries and confusion and guards rushed Wizar's retinue and the high priests to protect or capture. The wave had struck it out of their hearts as well. The Grand Priest saw what had happened and raised his hand turning to Wizar in reverant features. They all knelt, even Sizar. This was when a great thunderboom and a red ball of dark energy erupted splitting the tree down the middle and throwing the high priests and anyone at the center aside. The destruction of the tree ran through every priest in the temple there and the energy felt as a hot knife slicing through Wizar. Left there in a cloud of smoke was a horned looking imp with tatterd clothes. It stood with a hunched up back and let out a laugh that everyone but Wizar and the Grand Priest had to shield their ears from the sound. Then the demon creature hopped off the tree and said, "Don't you remember me from your stories. Zazar? You stupid pathetic elves and your zoo animals. You're not any threat to me. Ah, who is this." The demon Zazar looked next to Wizar at Sizar and gestured. She flew across the air into Zazar's arms. Wizar's staff grew bigger and bright and into a pillar of light that seemed to pass up and away into the ceiling. He stomped toward the demon and brought it down on top of him. But the evil being was gone and back where Wizar had sensed him before. He went back over to Admona as he had felt a deep dormant light start when Sizar was in the fiend's arms, "Did the stories talk about some elfess that was with the boy?" Admona stared back at him and Wizar looked around and finally Serah said, "There was story of some humble urchin that I used to like as a kid. Kind, calm, and steadfast with a big heart. She went to the temple one day and came back to find her home destroyed by some evil spirits. The elders took pity on her and gave her the fruit from the sacred tree and she went forth as a champion against evil joining the fabled boy to cleanse the land. Her and the descendants were the first Druidic Paladins that fought against evil." "She must have it, I think I barely felt it, but you felt more, Wizar. Didn't you?" The Grand Priest said. Wizar nodded and turned toward the weathered face of the steward of the Druidic order Inan that had offered to help. "Is your Druidic order ready to go out?" Wizar asked. "As needs be, my lord," he replied with a solemn nod. "The mages order?" Admona asked a robed and hooded elfess mage from the Saheguit order. She nodded in earnest and disappeared from the crowd. Wizar went and knelt by the tree. He then brought up his staff before him as he stood and the halved tree pulled and mended itself back together alive and pulsing with energy again. They gathered the rest of the temple forces that could offer themselves as well as any clergy and monks from the Hyrugar, even the two monks they met back in the Gamsa shrine. Wizar felt stuck in a nightmare world. The vision he had once of the elfess and the fiery pit slashed across his mind everytime he thought of it. He barely ate and barely slept on the way as everything seemed to come in a daze. He only pushed all of his being onto descerning the path to the the red spike and they followed his lead until they ended up in a grotto which a stream of muck slurped through. They had to walk single filed on a narrow rocky outcropping and soon into a cistern of deposits from a few holes at the top and a decay underneath. Ias could still see the red spike nearby but beyond this cistern. He saw a crumbling lip at the entrance at the far end and before he knew it he was walking on air over the gap toward the lip above the waters he could see below. He felt the red energy collesce below him and a deformed monstrous hand reached out for him. He sliced into it with a hot white light erupting around his staff and severed it in two. Drifting on, he landed on the entrance and jabbed the staff toward the mucky water and sticks, logs began collecting from all around. Wizar broke out of his full determination toward Sizar and the demon to show the others it was sturdy enought to allow them across. They passed deeper and deeper and admist the torchlight and glows from various magic used by them wound around and through passages and through caverns getting darker and danker. As they got deeper a decaying smell of death became prevalanet in the air choking a few to their knees so that they had to be left or sent back. The passage eventually opened into an area that started to put Wizar on edge. It was a pit that descended below into a dim glow. It became brighter on its own. It looked like lava and it rose until it was bubbling not far below. Another pit was between them and on the other side he saw the form of the demon twice the size and as tall as the cavern. It had Sizar in its grasp. "To think that some damned elvish protector coming from a shitty town couldn't save some shitty town priestess. You have it going well for you, Wizar. But I have this elf fuck girl that has the hots for you. Awww," The demon said and made a gesture that looked like he was squeezing her. Wizar's heart jumped into his throat and then back down, as his feelings peaked so did the glow around him abounding from the elder's blessings and core of nature powers from them. He saw on around him gather a glowing type of armor. The staff now was larger and had a curved double ended lance look to it. It glowed brighter than bright casting the whole room aglow with light. "Thank the elders," He smiled and leapt flying across the gap. The demon brought up his claw and parried his driving strike but Wizar slipped about along the ground and slashed into the demons side. It dropped Sizar making a deafening screech. He up slashed with the lance immediately and made a deep cut up the remainder of the side of the Demon. It moved slightly and Wizar tried to defend but the tip of the demon's claw caught the lance and knocked it out of his hand. It missed Wizar and he dodged and moved. The lance rested teetering on the edge. Wizar tried to strike it with bolts of magic but it didn't graze the surface as much as the lance. So he shot toward it as it teetered and dropped down into the chasm. Right before it touched the lava he caught it and swooped upward and back. He felt some newer powerful energy welling up from inside him and a voice that sounded like Myuin's calm voice say, "We the elders now give you our greatest strength." He flew at Zazar as like a bolt of lightning and was on the other side in a cracked dent of the ground in a split second later. He turned back to the demon and the demon turned back toward him with a big hole through its chest. It tottered toward the chasm and fell in with a deep cry. Wizar and Sizar looked in after it to see it's body enveloped by lava and sinking until only it's claw outstretched toward them was left and then it was gone. The journey back to Silvan City was both joyous and tear felt. Joyous in the celebrations at the inns they passed. Tear felt because of the parting of those that were nearby or were pilgrims or assigned to other places by the clergy. Yet, for Wizar and Sizar, it was subdued. They spoke briefly and he had held her until they passed beyond the cistern and muck. They they walked with linked hands not hardly thinking sometimes that they were doing it. The whispers started and they had to bring it to an end consciously. They talked about it once and decided to revist it when they got back to the city. The visit to the city ended up with them seperated as the tale was told again and again to each of the heads of the city and a visit to the current ruling council and the Lord King himself. Sizar was there for him when he got back, "It's time we talked." "Oh, what?" Wizar said still laughing as he left the current retinue of mixed soldiery and clergy. He saw the distant look and wide smile and his smile dropped to a simple one. The higher feelings he'd felt at being so revered dropped him back down. On this he couldn't even feel the ascention to the elders powers again and that linked through Sizar as he felt it. "The right thing to do would be to discuss us," Sizar said. "Sure, lets walk the gardens," he said but even Wizar didn't feel that was good, but he was torn between what would be recognition and the strength of the tie he felt now with Sizar. "I was thinking more out of the way," She said. Wizar nodded, "We need to go back there. We have not heard word what happened or if it was rebuilt. Their goodbyes were resisted by high priests and other authorities in bad form. They would not hear of their departing too soon. Wizar and Sizar eventually had to sneak out of the city under darkness. Wizar glanced back once but he looked ahead again as they moved off. The journey had them mostly camping off the path to avoid recognition at the inns. Wizar's magical senses now helped feel out sites for staying over night. It was also how he sensed some deep pulse and noticed some signs of ruin of the sites they camped at. The sites looked very similar to the waystations of the past. At least over a week was gone when they reached the river and followed it up until the village was in view. It was midday and they quietly rode into town and stopped at the path to the Gamsa shrine. It was in disarray, full in ruins and the tree a hulk of what it once was. Wizar still felt enough energy to do it and with Sizar beside him slipped into the ruins and flexing and stepping around the rubble. Then when getting to the tree he touched it and the tree and rubble vibrated moving itself away and back together piece by piece. Before the tree they both knelt and looked at each other and Wizar and Sizar in unison said, "Before the elders and all gods I join with you until death take me."

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#elf #elves #magic #demon #monkey #puma #temple #shrine #power

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aswithasunbeam · 5 years ago

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A Miraculous Return

[Read on AO3]

Rated: Teen Audiences and Up (Depictions of Violence)

Summary: Hamilton is charged with destroying a flour mill as the British close in on Philadelphia in the wake of the disastrous battle at Brandywine. The mission doesn't exactly go smoothly. (AKA the infamous Schuylkill River incident)

“Is that more damn rain?” Captain Lee groused beside Hamilton, adjusting his hat to more fully cover his head after wiping a hand over his nose.

“I don’t think so. Just drops from the trees,” Hamilton answered in a whisper. His horse pawed at the damp earth restlessly beneath him, sensing the anxiety of her rider. He struggled to relax his shoulders as he soothed a hand over her neck, muttering, “Easy there, old girl.”

“If you say so,” Lee said. “We’ll have a hell of a time getting the mill to burn if you’re wrong.”

Dusk was fast stealing the light of the already overcast day, leaving long shadows and an eerie quiet over the wooded area. The crack of a stick caught Hamilton’s attention, and his head wiped around as he squinted towards the source of the noise. An animal, perhaps, or one of the two sentries that Lee posted at the top of the hill before he, Hamilton, and their four men descended towards the banks of the Schuylkill, where the flour mill stood.

“Sir?”

With a last lingering look, Hamilton turned back in the saddle to see one of the men approaching.

“All clear,” the sergeant reported.

“Torch it, Higgins,” Lee ordered. “And let’s be gone before the devils realize we’re about.”

Higgins saluted and hurried back towards the mill. Lieutenant Rice on Hamilton’s other side leaned forward in his saddle eagerly as they lit their torches. Despite Lee’s concern, the flame caught easily, and the mill went up with a roar of flame. Rice let out a whoop of victory.

“Hush,” Hamilton commanded in a harsh whisper.

He could feel the heat from the burning building behind him as he tugged on the reigns, straining to hear. More sounds were coming from the top of the hill, scuffling, then voices. A shout quickly followed by a round of gunfire confirmed that they weren’t alone any longer.

“Get to the boat!” he commanded, swinging his horse around and galloping towards the ferry. He could feel Rice close on his heels, and a glance back confirmed the three other men were following rapidly by foot. Lee had started for the mill-bridge instead, though, beckoning the two sentries to follow.

“Lee!” Hamilton called.

“Go!” Lee urged, hardly giving him half a glance as he fired at the enemy with his saddle pistol.

Enemy cavalry poured over the hill towards them. Most still seemed intent on capturing the two sentries, but some had taken notice of their small party and broke off to pursue them towards the ferry. Bullets whistled by his ears, and he closed his eyes instinctively when one hit the tree beside him, causing wood to splinter out towards his face. He ducked low and dug his heels into his horse’s sides, spurring her onward.

The river was swollen with the recent rain, the current bubbling and rushing. The flat bottom boat he’d secured to the ferry dock for just this purpose yanked at its moorings. Higgins was already working on the knot as Hamilton gestured for the two other men on foot to board.

“Lieutenant—” He stopped when he saw the horse beside him no longer had a rider. Rice lay a few yards back, sprawled upon the ground, a red strain blossoming over his waistcoat and his eyes open and fixed upon the sky, unblinking.

Hamilton closed his eyes, exhaled, then clicked his tongue to urge the horse to jump the small distance into the waiting boat. She shied back for a moment, dancing in place, then did as he urged. He dismounted and went straight for an oar as the sergeant jumped in behind him.

The unrelenting enemy fire continued as they fought the rushing current. He squinted as he fought with all his might to keep them moving away from the bank. No sign of Lee or the two sentries. Another bullet whizzed by his ear.

“Don’t let the current pull us back,” Higgins urged.

Another volley of bullets rushed towards them, and his horse let out an awful scream as she fell to the side and caused a wave of water to swamp the boat. The corporal who’d fled with them fell next to him, dead before he’d hit the water. Higgins had dropped his oar to grip at his shoulder, blood oozing through the cracks in his fingers.

Fear gripped at him.

The young private with them, still uninjured, looked to Hamilton with wide eyes. “What do we do, sir?”

His heart was beating fast in his ears, the scent of gunpowder and blood overwhelming his nostrils as he hunted for a solution. They would die if they stayed on the boat, that much was certain. Much as he didn’t want to hand the boat to the enemy by abandoning it, their dead bodies wouldn’t keep it from floating back towards the bank any better.

“Into the river,” he said, taking care not to let his voice quaver.

“Sir?” Higgins asked askance.

“It’s our only chance. Swim for the opposite bank.”

The private jumped into the rushing current immediately. His head dipped below the water and didn’t resurface. Hamilton let out another controlled breath as he looked at Higgins.

“Can you swim with your arm hurt?”

“We’ll soon find out, sir,” Higgins replied with a queasy smile. Another round of bullets robbed them of any choice. Hamilton jumped into the water half a second after Higgins.

The cold stabbed at him like needle-pricks all over his body, stealing his breath.

The current was wickedly fast, dragging him downstream. Water muted the sounds of the gunfire above, but he could hear it still as the British fired into the river indiscriminately. He kicked in the direction he thought was the opposite bank, trying to keep his head under the water in hopes of convincing the enemy he’d drowned. A few more bullets spit overhead, then finally stopped. He had to fight to breach the surface, sucking air in desperately when he did.

No signs of Higgins or the private, he noted with dismay as he struggled towards the distant shoreline. The river had dragged him far enough downstream that the British were no longer in sight either. He swam hard, pushing towards the trees of the opposite bank.

When he finally climbed out of the water, he collapsed onto his side, panting hard. His muscles burned from the effort, and the skin around his right eye stung where some of the wood from the exploding tree had evidently scratched him. The eerie quiet surrounded him again.

“The wounded will need to be evacuated,” Washington told Doctor Cochran in a soft voice, his eyes settling on Lafayette. The hospital was teeming with men wounded at Brandywine, making such an undertaking all the more complicated. There was no avoiding it now, though. “I cannot say how much more time we’ll hold the city.”

Doctor Cochran didn’t look surprised by the news. “I found a suitable place in Bethlehem, a little north from here. We’ll start preparing the move immediately.”

“Where is Hammy?” Washington heard Lafayette asking Laurens as he approached the bed.

“Torching the flour mill near Daviser’s Ferry,” Laurens answered. “It’s right in the path of the enemy advance now.”

“You didn’t go with him?” Lafayette asked, concern and surprise in his voice.

Laurens grunted and bumped a fist against the leg that had taken a musket-ball to the ankle during the battle.

“I can fight, mon Général,” Lafayette said when he saw Washington standing by his bed. “My leg, it is not so bad.”

Given that a bullet had sliced through the boy’s calf a mere seven days earlier, Washington had a hard time believing him. “You’ll be evacuated with the other wounded, my boy. There’s no room for arguing.”

“Laurens is up and about,” Lafayette charged, pointing towards the crutches leaning against the wall beside the aide.

“Don’t drag me into this,” Laurens said, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest.

Washington shook his head at the two. “Laurens’ wound was not so bad as yours.”

“Not for his lack of trying,” Lafayette grumbled.

Laurens pulled a face at Lafayette in answer.

Washington couldn’t help but silently agree with Lafayette’s assessment, though it did nothing to bolster his case for being freed from his hospital bed. Laurens’ conduct at Brandywine had been brave to the point of reckless, and that a ricocheting musket-ball to the ankle was his worst injury was nothing short of miraculous. Much as Washington would have liked to order Laurens to rest as well, he was worryingly short-staffed in the wake of battle. And as it was, Laurens was now hobbling around headquarters on crutches, grumbling about being held back from reconnaissance missions all the while.

A breathless private came rushing through the door of the hospital, skidding to halt under Doctor Cochran’s hard stare. Moving at a more appropriate speed, the private handed over a letter, his eyes averted as he muttered, “General. From Captain Lee.”

“Thank you,” Washington said, quickly unfolding the message.

All the blood drained from his face as his eyes ran over the account from Lee.

“Did they get to the mill?” Laurens asked.

“They did,” he answered distantly.

Laurens let out a satisfied sound as he grabbed Lafayette’s shoulder. “That’s our boy.”

“They were attacked,” Washington continued, and the smiles bled away from Lafayette and Laurens’s faces. “Lee took to the bridge with the two sentries, and Hamilton retreated towards a boat with the rest of the men. They took fire as they set out on the water, and Hamilton went overboard with the others. Lee doesn’t expect he survived.”

“Non,” Lafayette whispered.

A wave of grief threatened Washington as he watched the two young men before him absorb the news. The mill had been a middling target, but Hamilton had been one of his only officers hale and healthy enough to oversee the task. His loss was a dear price indeed for such a small victory. He squeezed his eyes closed as the boy’s sunny smile appeared in his memory.

Laurens stood abruptly, his crutches clattering to the ground as he fumbled for them. He swore, stooped over, and shoved them under his arms before hobbling around the bed.

“Son,” Washington said, reaching out to catch him by the arm. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to find him,” Laurens said, trying to wriggle free of his grip.

“You can’t,” Washington said.

“You’re wounded, and that is enemy territory,” Lafayette added.

“I don’t care. I’m going to find him. I can’t just…he could be hurt. He could be… He’s not….” Laurens swallowed hard, jaw tight. “He can’t be….”

Washington took a deep breath to bury the emotion stirred by the note. Mourning was a luxury none of them had time to indulge. “We’ll send a reconnaissance team to that area in the morning. They’ll find him, if he’s there to be found. There’s nothing more we can do.”

“I can’t just leave him there,” Laurens argued. “I can’t.”

“Where’s the General?” Washington heard a voice demanding just beyond the doors to the hospital. “It’s urgent.”

He bit down a swear at the interruption and turned to demand whoever it was wait another moment. The form that appeared in the doorway stole his thought, however, making him blink heavily with shock.

Hamilton.

Waterlogged, muddy, and breathless, but undeniably Hamilton.

“Sir, we were attacked at the mill. I’m not sure Lee made it out, and two more of our men were killed. I found two of the others on my way back to camp, and I was able to dispatch word to Congress through one of them. I advised Congress to leave the city immediately without fail. The British now have the means to launch an attack party into the city this very night. We should make haste in evacuating our supplies and the wounded.”

“Hamilton?” Washington asked, still not quite sure the figure was even real.

“Is it really you, mon ami?” Lafayette’s voice was choked with tears.

“Yes,” Hamilton replied slowly, brow furrowing. “Why are you all just staring at me?”

Laurens pulled out of Washington’s grip and surged forward, his crutches falling to the side as he reached out to pull Hamilton into an embrace. Hamilton let out a surprised huff but returned the affectionate embrace easily. When Laurens pulled back, he held Hamilton by the shoulders and shook him lightly. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“Do what?”

Washington stepped closer and clapped Hamilton on the back, relishing in the feel of his form under his palm, solid and uninjured.

“Sir, what is going on?”

“Lee is uninjured. He sent word not five minutes ago that you’d been drowned in the Schuylkill trying to escape from enemy fire.”

Understanding washed over Hamilton’s pale, muddy face. “Well, I didn’t die.”

“Yes, thank you for clarifying,” Washington said, a smile twitching at his lips.

Hamilton laughed as Laurens attacked him with another embrace.

#hamilton fanfic #alexander hamilton #john laurens #george washington #marquis de Lafayette #schuylkill river incident

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fanyiyimdzs · 5 years ago

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Mo Dao Zu Shi: Chapter 7

Masterpost

Previous chapter

In the end, after caressing his ring for a time, Jiang Cheng forced his hostile emotions down.

Though he was very unhappy, he was a Clan Chief and had to consider the repercussions of his actions. He couldn’t be impulsive like boys such as Jin Ling. The decline of the Qinghe Nie Clan had left only Three Great Clans remaining, and among them, the Lanling Jin Clan and the Gusu Lan Clan were the closest due to the deep personal bond between their two chiefs. On the other hand, Jiang Cheng controlled the Yunmeng Jiang Clan alone, and his clan was relatively isolated. Hanguang Jun Lan Wangji was a highly distinguished figure in the cultivation world, and his elder brother, Zewu Jun Lan Xichen, was the Chief of the Gusu Lan Clan. The two brothers had a strong, harmonious relationship—if Jiang Cheng didn’t need to destroy his standing with them, it was best not to.

Moreover, Jiang Cheng’s sword Sandu1 had never truly met Lan Wangji’s Bichen in battle, thus the final outcome of such a clash was unclear. And though he had the mighty ring “Zidian”2 around his finger, Lan Wangji’s “Wangji”3 qin also had a fearsome reputation. Jiang Cheng couldn’t tolerate being at a disadvantage—without complete assurance of his victory, he wouldn’t consider fighting Lan Wangji.

Jiang Cheng stopped stroking the ring and slowly withdrew his left hand. It seemed Second Master Lan was intent on intervening, so continuing to play the villain would cause him trouble. For now, he would simply remember this incident. Done weighing the pros and cons, Jiang Cheng turned and saw Jin Ling still angrily covering his mouth. “Just accept Hanguang Jun’s punishment this one time. After all, the opportunity to discipline another clan’s disciples is a rare one indeed.”

His tone was sneering, but it was unclear who he was sneering at. Lan Wangji never opened his mouth in response to such provocations—he merely acted as though he hadn’t heard it. Jiang Cheng’s next words were wrapped in thorns. “Why are you still standing there? Are you waiting for prey to rush toward you and stick themselves on your sword? If you can’t capture whatever’s living in Dafan Mountain, don’t ever come see me again!”

Jin Ling shot Wei Wuxian a venomous glare, but he didn’t have the courage to glare at Lan Wangji, the one responsible for his forced silence. Placing his sword back into its scabbard, he made polite goodbyes to the two seniors opposite him and retreated with his bow in hand. Lan Sizhui said, “Chief Jiang, the Gusu Lan Clan will of course return the exact number of spirit-binding nets that were destroyed.”

Jiang Cheng smiled coldly. “No need!” He chose to reverse course and take a leisurely stroll down the mountain. His disciples followed behind him silently, their faces miserable and marked with anxiety, knowing that when they returned, there would be no way to avoid their Clan Chief’s wrath.

Once their silhouettes disappeared in the distance, Lan Jingyi said, “How could Chief Jiang act like that?!” Only once he finished did he remember the House Lan’s prohibitions against speaking about someone behind their backs. Scared, he glanced at Hanguang Jun, closed his mouth, and shuffled backwards. Lan Sizhui smiled slightly at Wei Wuxian and said, “Young Master Mo, we meet again.”

Wei Wuxian pulled on the corners of his lips. But Lan Wangji opened his mouth and issued a command. It was clear and concise, free of any ornamentation. “Complete your task.”

Only then did the flock of juniors remember why they had come to Dafan Mountain. Placing any other thoughts at the back of their minds, they reverently awaited further instructions. A few moments later, Lan Wangji spoke again, “Try your hardest. No recklessness.”

His voice was low and magnetic. The heart of anyone standing near enough would undoubtedly tremble upon hearing it. The juniors obediently followed Hanguang Jun’s orders and walked deeper into the mountain forests, too afraid to linger. Jiang Cheng and Lan Zhan were truly completely different people, Wei Wuxian thought. Even the advice and the warnings they gave their juniors were completely contrary. As he was pondering this, Lan Wangji suddenly gave him a slight, almost invisible nod, and Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but become slightly dazed.

Ever since he was young, Lan Wangji had been so serious and deadpan it made Wei Wuxian’s head hurt. He was grave, inflexible, and seemed like he had never had a spontaneous moment in his life. Defects of behavior were like grains of sand in his eyes; he couldn’t stand them. Thus, he had met the news that Wei Wuxian had taken up demonic cultivation with the harshest disapproval. But Lan Sizhui should have already informed Lan Wangji about Mo Xuanyu’s suspicious behavior at Mo Manor, yet the senior Lan had still nodded in greeting—most likely to thank him for helping the Lan juniors with their earlier trouble. Without thinking, Wei Wuxian returned the greeting. But when he lifted his head again, even Lan Wangji’s shadow had disappeared.

After a pause, he turned around and began to walk back down the mountain.

No matter what kind of prey was lurking around Dafan Mountain, he couldn’t pursue it. If Wei Wuxian was going to fight anyone over it, he wouldn’t fight Jin Ling.

It had really been Jin Ling.

Wei Wuxian had not expected that, of all the Lanling Jin Clan’s disciples, he would happen to run into Jin Ling. If he had known, how could he have used words like “you weren’t raised by a mother” to mock the boy? If someone else had said such a thing, he would have made them understand exactly what “bringing disaster upon yourself” meant. But the one who had spoken them was Wei Wuxian himself.

After a moment of stillness, he lifted his hand and slapped himself in the face.

The slap resonated inside his skull, and his right cheek stung from the force of it. Suddenly, the bushes beside him rustled. When Wei Wuxian glanced at the source of the noise, a donkey’s head emerged through the leaves, and, for once, the donkey shuffled towards Wei Wuxian’s hanging hand out of its own free will. He pulled on its long ears and laughed bitterly. “You wanted to save the pretty maiden, but forced me to play the hero.”

As the donkey whined and grumbled, a wave of cultivators crested over the mountain slope, heading directly towards them. Once every one of the four hundred spirit-binding nets had been cut by Lan Wangji’s flying blade, all the cultivators who had originally loitered around Fojiao Village began surging up the mountain. All of these people could be considered Jin Ling’s competitors, so Wei Wuxian briefly considered forcing them to retreat again. But in the end, he quietly let them pass.

Dressed in a random assortment of house colours, the crowd of disciples grumbled loudly as they climbed. “Both House Jin and House Jiang spoil that Young Master Jin rotten. Even at his young age, he’s already so arrogant and tyrannical. In the future, if the Lanling Jin Clan falls into his hands, it’ll only end in upheaval and rebellion. We might as well die!”

Wei Wuxian slowed.

A soft-hearted female cultivator sighed.“But how could they not spoil him? He lost both his mother and father at such a young age.”

“Ah, sister, you can’t talk like that. So what if both his mother and father are gone? The world is full of people who’ve lost both their parents—if everyone acted like he does, it would be a catastrophe!”

“Wei Wuxian sure went after whoever he wanted. Jin Ling’s mother was none other than Jiang Cheng’s sister by blood, and the one who had looked after him since he was small.”

“Jiang Yanli was so unlucky to have raised such an ungrateful, wild dog. Jin Zixuan had it even worse. Look at how horribly he ended up, just because he and Wei Wuxian once had a few petty feuds.”

“It seems like everyone had some kind of feud with him…”

“Exactly. Other than the crazed wolves he raised, have you ever heard of him having a good relationship with anyone? He has enemies everywhere—he’s pretty much despised by all of the earth and the heavens! Even Hanguang Jun and him hated each other on sight, like fire and water.”

“Speaking of which, if it hadn’t been for Hanguang Jun today…”

Wei Wuxian walked for a while, when suddenly, the soft sound of a running creek streamed into his ears.

He hadn’t heard this noise when he had walked up the mountain. Only now did he realize he had forked off onto the some other route on his way down.

Holding onto the donkey’s reins, he approached the creek. The moon shined through the branches overhead, on which not a single leaf hung to offer cover. The water in the middle of the creek was choppy and frosty white. Glancing at his reflection, Wei Wuxian saw a face that changed unpredictably with the flow of the water.

Viciously, he slapped the surface with his open palm and shattered his absurd, comical visage. Raising his dripping hand, he began rubbing off the powder with the creek water.

It took only a few scoops. When his reflection appeared again, he saw a very elegant and handsome young man. Now clean, his face looked as though it had been bathed in moonlight. His brows were relaxed, his eyes clear and bright, and the corners of his mouth were upturned into a slight smile. But as he was bowed over the creek, intently examining his reflection, the beads of water decorating his lashes seemed like endlessly falling teardrops.

This face was young and strange. It wasn’t the face which had once drowned the earth and overturned the heavens, nor the face that caused foul winds to blow and hot blood to pour from the skies above. It wasn’t the Old Yiling Master Wei Wuxian’s face.

After staring at this face for a long while, Wei Wuxian rubbed it again a few more times, massaged his eyes, and thudded back onto the shore.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t endure others’ harsh tongues and nasty words. After all, when he had first made his decision, he had understood perfectly clearly the kind of road that lay ahead. His mind had long reminded him: remember the motto of the Yunmeng Jiang Clan—“attempt the impossible.”

Only, he had believed his heart to be an unmovable stone. Yet, in the end, humans were not rocks or vegetation.

The little donkey seemed to recognise his low mood and, for once, didn’t impatiently moan and bray. After a moment of silence, it whipped around and began walking away. But Wei Wuxian continued sitting by the creekside, displaying no reaction, so it glanced back at him and stomped its hooves. Still, Wei Wuxian ignored it. Angry, the donkey could only return, bite down on the front of his robes, and drag him away.

Leaving or staying, either was fine to Wei Wuxian, but since the donkey was now pulling him with its teeth, he figured he might as well follow. The donkey hauled him beneath a few trees, then paced in circles around a patch of vegetation. Within the underbrush, a qiankun4 bag was quietly hidden. A ruined golden net hung above his head: some unfortunate cultivator had almost certainly dropped the bag as they struggled free of the trap. Wei Wuxian picked it up and took a look inside. It contained quite a few miscellaneous items, such as gourds of medicinal wine, talismans, little fae-reflecting mirrors, and so on.

After digging through it for a while, he grabbed a talisman, which suddenly burst into flame in his hand.

The talisman had a yin-ignition seal written on it, which, as the name implies, automatically ignited upon contact with yin energy. The stronger the yin energy, the bigger the fire. Since it started burning as soon as Wei Wuxian had removed it from the bag, there had to be a dark spirit nearby.

As soon as he had seen the firelight, Wei Wuxian’s attention became concentrated on guarding against the spirit. Lifting the talisman, he tried waving it around in different directions. Turning east, the fire dimmed, whereas turning west, the flames suddenly jumped up higher and higher. He walked a few steps in that direction and saw a stooped, white figure emerge under a nearby tree.

Ashes fell from Wei Wuxian’s fingertips as the paper burned completely up. The figure was an elderly man with his back turned on him, muttering.

As Wei Wuxian slowly drew near, the old man’s mutterings became clearer.

“Ah, it hurts, it hurts.”

“Where does it hurt?” Wei Wuxian asked.

The old man replied, “Ah, my head. My head. It’s my head.”

“Let me see,” Wei Wuxian said.

He walked a few steps to the old man’s side and saw a bloody red hole in the middle of his forehead. This was a dead soul, and the murderer had probably killed him by smashing some kind of weapon into his skull. He wore burial clothes of high quality material and strong craftsmanship, which meant he had already been properly interred. This wasn’t the lost soul of some living person.

But this kind of soul shouldn’t be appearing on Dafan Mountain.

It defied all logic, and Wei Wuxian couldn’t come up with any explanation. But it was anything but reassuring. He hopped onto the donkey’s back, slapped its hindquarters, gave a holler, and spurred it onwards towards the place where Jin Ling had gone up the mountain.

Many cultivators dithered around the old burial mound, intent on waiting for their prey to show up on its own rather than taking decisive action. Some of them had bravely raised a yin summoning flag, but it only attracted a swarm of spirits who did nothing except wail so loudly all of the earth and sky could hear them. Pulling on the donkey’s reins, Wei Wuxian glanced around and asked in a clear, bright voice, “Excuse me, could you please tell me something? Where did the little Masters from House Jin and House Lan go?”

Now that he had washed his face, one of the cultivators responded promptly. “They left this place and went to the Shrine of the Heavenly Maiden.”

“Shrine of the Heavenly Maiden?” Wei Wuxian said.

After the family of cultivators he had saved heard about the destruction of the spirit-binding nets, they quietly snuck up the mountain again, and were also among the people who had gathered to patrol the old burial grounds. The middle aged man, seeing Wei Wuxian’s clothes and his toothy donkey, thought Wei Wuxian was probably the lunatic who had rescued them earlier. Quite embarrassed, he pretended nothing had happened, but the round-faced young woman pointed and gave directions: “Over there. It’s a shrine inside a cave in the mountain.”

Wei Wuxian questioned her more closely, “Which divinity was the temple built for?”

The round-faced young woman said, “I think—I think the statue of the heavenly maiden appeared naturally.”

Wei Wuxian nodded. “Thank you very much.”

He rushed to the shrine at once.

The marriage of the lazy bum, the lightning strike that had split open coffins, the fiancé who had been bitten to death by wolves, the successive loss of the souls of a father and daughter, the beautiful burial clothes…they were like matching pearls finally strung together. No wonder the evil wind compasses hadn’t picked up anything. The yin summoning flags were even more useless. They had all underestimated the thing on Dafan Mountain.

It wasn’t at all what they thought it was!

_________________

1 “Sandu” (三毒) literally means “three poisons.”

2 “Zidian” (紫电) literally means “violet electricity.”

3 “Wangji” (忘机) literally means “above earthly concerns.”

4 “Qiankun” (乾坤) literally means “heaven and earth.”

Masterpost

#mo dao zu shi #MDZS #wei wuxian #wwx #lan wangji #lwj

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achtung-attitude · 4 years ago

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CHAPTER 37: Weezer - Part 2

Kilo struggles to his feet at the bottom of a hole that did not exist ten seconds ago. Toto watches him from the rim of the hole, smiling easily without any hint of malice.

The enemy rubs his eyebrow with a spidery finger and explains, “Five years ago, yeah? There was an accident,” he says, as if sitting across from Kilo in a bar booth, “They was setting up some sort of overhead sound system or whatever, and they ended up droppin’ a couple tons of equipment from the ceiling. Made a hole in the floor. Right here, dig? The convention centre administrators were too cheap to fix it right, so they just covered the hole with plaster. Came back to bite ‘em in the ass though, cause eventually that hole opened up into a sinkhole that swallowed up six people!”

Kilo glares up at him as he chuckles, continuing his lackadaisical monologue. “Moral of the story? It all comes back to you. No matter how deep you bury ‘em, every misfortune stacks up, until it blows up in yo’ face. My WEEZER… is just what ignites it. I told ya, you’d only get one chance to walk.”

By the time he’s finished, Kilo is back on his feet, not appearing the least bit intimidated. “I don’t give a shit,” he declares, then SATURN BARZ drives its taloned fingers into the wall of the pit. The Stand gouges a cleft of dry rock from the wall, and the wall begins to bubble and froth, turning into a thick, gravelly sludge. This effect extends upwards, reaching the rim of the pit.

“Whuh--?” Toto says, as the ground he’s standing dissolves into a sheer mudslide, and his feet are caught up in the muck. He bolts upright, flailing his arms to keep his balance.

But while he focuses on this, Kilo ascends from the hole, having been raised up by SATURN BARZ. He grabs a fistful of Toto’s hoodie and pulls himself forward. Toto is pulled in the opposite direction, losing his balance and tumbling forward into his own pit trap. Kilo lands on the edge of the hole in a crouch at the same moment Toto hits the bottom, standing submerged up to his waist in liquid concrete. With a swift whirl of its hands, SATURN BARZ reverts the mudslide back into solid concrete, trapping his opponent in solid stone.

“Uhh--” Toto utters, not entirely sure what has just happened to him.

“Some nightmare!” Kilo taunts at him, “Damn. And here I was expecting a challenge outta you. What a joke!”

Before the Congregation assassin can say anything back, Kilo gets up and walks away, amidst a Convention floor in various stages of agony. Upwards of 300 people roll around groaning in pain, while others, unaffected, either run about or stand struck dumb, helpless among the sudden horror.

“Jesus…” he mutters, rushing to attend to Moya. The cold sweat that formed on her flesh as a result of WEEZER’s touch has now developed into a corpse-like pallor that’s turned her bronze skin to a sickly gray. “What the hell’s happening to you?” he asks, kneeling to help her up.

“I-it’s Toto’s ability…” she answers after a brief coughing fit and spitting an absurd volume of green mucus. Her voice is scratchy, and her breath is short and shallow, but she takes his hand nonetheless, and drapes her over his shoulders.

Kilo places the back of his hand on her forehead, then pulls it back quickly. “You’re burning up! What ability could do this?!”

“It’s pneumonia…!” she asserts, “Ough, when I was 10, I caught pneumonia after staying out in the rain…! Abuela said not to stay out so long, but I didn’t listen… Agh, doesn’t matter!! Whatever it is, Toto was the one that caused this! I’ve never worked with him before, but… the ability must revive illnesses from your past to harm you in the present…!”

Kilo glances around the convention hall once more, then nods in agreement. “Sure. But what about the sinkhole?”

“Buildings can be damaged, too. And Hotel California demonstrated how a structure can have its own history and will.”

“Right. Alright…” he is quiet for a moment, then he carries her to a nearby column and sits her down against it. “Hang tight,” he says, starting back towards the pit, “I’m gonna finish that muthafucka off.”

“Wait!” Moya cries out, straining her voice. “You need to be cautious! I-if he touches you, then you’ll be caught in his ability too!”

A grin spreads across Kilo’s lips. “Worst I ever got was a cold when I was 6! His ability might be hot shit if you had something bad like you did, but it’ll take more’n a couple sniffles to stop me! Not to mention, he’s enough of a scrub to get himself caught in his own trap! Asshole’s dead-meat already!” He says this as he reaches the rim of the pit, but finds thats Toto is no longer trapped in the concrete.

Right as he begins to search for him, Toto reveals himself, speaking from behind Kilo. “It’s rude to talk ‘bout people behind their backs,” he declares, brushing loose gravel off him, “But, I guess, I got nobody to blame but myself, yeah?”

Kilo and SATURN BARZ whirls around towards their enemy, the Stand forming a spear of solidified oxygen in its hand. It jabs the impromptu icicle at Toto’s throat, but he dodges to the side with a lazy grin on his face. WEEZER manifests in front of him, and reaches for SATURN BARZ with the same blinding speed it showed to WITCH MOUNTAIN. But Kilo is ready, as just before the mangled enemy Stand grabs a hold of his throat, the ice spear suddenly explodes into frigged shrapnel right in Toto’s face.

The Congregation assassin winces as the icy shards pelt him over his body. “AHH!! Damn, that hurts!!” he yelps, and in that moment of distraction, SATURN BARZ lunges for him, claws aimed at his face. Toto gathers himself and sways back with footwork that would make Muhammad Ali proud, and WEEZER jerks a knuckle to the ground.

Kilo’s foot falls in the exact spot where WEEZER touched, and the ground beneath it gives way, opening into another hole, smaller than the first and shallower, only going halfway up his calf. He drops and lands flat-footed. He groans as pangs of pain run up his leg.

“Guess two sinkholes was too good to be true,” Toto says before WEEZER lurches into a new attack.

“Don’t let him touch you!” Moya shouts, watching all of this from her pillar.

With a swift backhand swipe, SATURN BARZ bats WEEZER’s hands out of the way. Toto grunts as heavy ice begins to form on his Stand’s hand and the biting cold effect transfers over to himself. In the meantime, Kilo steps out of the pit trap and puts distance between him and his opponent.

Toto raises an eyebrow at him. “What was it you said? ‘Take more’n a couple sniffles to stop me’. If you ain’t scared of what my WEEZER can do, how come you standing so far away?”

“I’m not scared. But I’m not stupid either and I know you Congregation pricks are full of dirty tricks.”

The Congregation assassin laughs. “Heheheh… That’s pretty smart… Or it would be, if touching you was the only way WEEZER could hurt you.”

WEEZER’s hand flex suddenly, its fingers spreading and shattering the frost forming on its hand. It then launches its entire body in Kilo’s direction with a piercing screech. “BIIISHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH…”

“Shi--!!” Kilo says, raising SATURN BARZ to guard, but to his surprise, WEEZER sails right over his head and slams its palm into the wide window behind him. Then the glass begins to shudder and vibrate violently, before WEEZER peels away from it, and the window explodes inwards, showering Kilo with a hail of glass.

“AAGH!” he yells, and SATURN BARZ tries to shield its user from the oncoming barrage of glass, but is unable to get them all, as thick shards pierce Kilo in his arm, ribs and thigh.

“That one was an accident too,” Toto calls, “Tropical storm hit Anaheim about ten years ago, tore up a tree that broke a window. Nobody got hurt that time, though!”

Kilo winces as SATURN BARZ dissolves the glass into liquid and his wounds close up into red marks. “Shit!” he thinks, “It’s like his Stand can do anything he wants it to! Even if I don’t let him touch me, if I keep letting him make all the moves, I’m a dead man! There’s gotta be something I can use!!”

He searches with his eyes frantically around the convention hall, hunting for something to gain an advantage over this seemingly impossible enemy. Toto seems perfectly content to simply watch him, hands in his pockets, without a care in the world. Kilo grinds his teeth and scowls at him.

“Hey, come ooon, what’s that look for? I already gave you a chance, and you didn’t take it. Don’t blame me for your mistakes~…”

Kilo answers with a flick of the wrist from SATURN BARZ, firing shards of solidified water vapor at his opponent. The assassin dodges, then dodges the next batch, and keeps up with Kilo when he starts running down the hall, leaping over afflicted guests and tearing through convention booths.

SATURN BARZ keeps up the attack the whole time, flinging at Toto with frozen projectiles. WEEZER blocks them all with its unmitigated speed, its jaw hanging loose from its skull swinging to and fro with every staccato motion.

Kilo vaults onto a table and SATURN BARZ takes its Olympian stance, forming a great ice javelin in its palm and hurling it at its enemy. It is the same kind as before, set with opposing impulses within its structure so it may explode into a smokescreen, even if WEEZER deflects it. But WEEZER does not deflect it.

Instead, it jerks its right foot underneath a convention guest with angry red spots growing on his face. The unfortunate guest’s body lifts off the ground and WEEZER catches him by the back of his neck, holding him in front of its master. The guest’s eyes clear up for long enough to see the ice spear fly at him before it impales him through his shoulder. He loses consciousness when the spear explodes, turning his wound into a bloody cavity you could see through. Toto is left completely unscathed.

“What… What the fuck did you do?!” Kilo shouts, staring in shock and disgust.

“What did I do? I… protected myself from your attack. What’s it look like?” WEEZER grips its human shield by the neck then tosses it at Kilo, who dives from the table to catch him. When he does, the diseased Stand appears and lunges for him.

“First he uses this guy as a shield, now as a distraction!? This bastard…!!” Kilo thinks. Before WEEZER can lay its mottled hands on him, SATURN BARZ strikes out with a kick to its gut that knocks the wind out of Toto. Kilo then rolls out of its range, clutching the guest’s body.

“You son of a bitch…!” he snarls while SATURN BARZ closes the unconscious guest’s wound, “What’s the matter with you!?! How can you involve innocent people like this?!!”

Toto, as ever, treats his words like a joke, laughing softly. “Haha… It’s just bad luck. It ain’t my fault, and it ain’t yours. He just happened to be here at the wrong time, and happened to get involved in our little playdate. If you take the time to worry about every little ant you step on, you’d never take another step.”

“You sick fuck…”

“What’re you getting so upset for? Human lives ain’t that big a deal,” the Congregation assassin fixes his posture, recovering from SATURN BARZ strike, “All humans are just vessels for Fate to enact its will. Even Stand users like us. Stands are reflections of the soul, but that doesn’t mean that having one is anything special. They got nothing to do with good or evil, or justice. All it means is that Fate chose us to have a little bit more impact in its design. Fate chose you, just like it chose me. You and I were always going to fight here today, and that guy, and these people, were always going to get caught in the middle. No matter how much you fight it, we both ultimately serve the same power.”

“Again…” Kilo murmurs, rising. The guest’s wound has closed over completely, forming a pale, circular scar in his shoulder. “I’m so sick of hearing you people talk out of your ass at me. All this shit about God and fate and higher beings…” SATURN BARZ takes a bow-legged stance and raises its hands over its head as its master continues “All that I could take, but worse! You all keep tryin’ to tell me that I’m the same as you. I don’t want to be mentioned in the breath as you fucking losers!!!”

SATURN BARZ claps its hand together and steam explodes out from between them. This builds into a thick fog that covers everything in a damp smokescreen.

“Really?” Toto says, unimpressed. He saunters through the smokescreen, his head bobbing up and down as he steps on bodies without a care.

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #achtung attitude #kilo staples #toto #saturn barz #weezer #ch37

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