#grasped severely tight in my fist by the throat

[delirious-donna]

Don’t Touch [Nanami Kento]

an: a rework of a shorter piece I wrote a looooong time ago for the handsome ex-salaryman. He’s on my mind so we must all suffer.

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: sensory deprivation kinda (touch), teasing, fully NSFW

Masterlist

What had started as a fun experiment, quickly devolved into a form of torture designed specifically to turn your darling husband into a snarling monster.

You thought you had been so smart; offering an offhand remark that you didn’t think he could last more than ten minutes without touching you, in an intimate moment, you elaborated with a barely stifled chuckle.

Kento’s answering arched eyebrow spoke of his confidence at proving you entirely wrong. How hard could it possibly be?

Well, at eight minutes in, he was losing his grip on sanity. Kento had never appreciated how much he relied on touch to feel close to you, and having it taken away was akin to literally chopping off his hands. Of course, he knew that being able to reach out and feel you next to him was important, but not that taking away that one sense would break him so wholly.

How could he be expected to gaze at your beautiful naked breasts and not want to cup them and feel their weight in his rough palms? How was he to remain rational when your sweet nipples pebbled without wanting to thumb at them until you strained further into his touch?

“Ken,” you whined pitifully, your grip tight against his powerful biceps as you tried to keep your seated composure. His hips had been restless these past few minutes and he had almost unseated you from your straddled position several times by jerking you upwards without warning.

Strands of his normally tame hair fell into hazel eyes now clouded with a feral lust, the lick of crackling flames leaping from popping logs evident when you lowered your face to capture his pouting lips.

“You said you’d play nice, no fair.” You nipped at his bottom lip in a poor form of punishment, not knowing that this whole scenario was slowly killing him.

His eyes rolled to the back of his skull, the sharp curve of his jaw tightening almost painfully when you traced a fingertip around his nipple. Kento groaned, the sound low in his throat and rumbling through his chest. It made you circle your hips in retaliation. Eyelashes fluttering low whilst your bare pussy, slick with thick arousal, stroked the length of his aching cock.

How much agony could one man endure? His angry cock tipped with a deep red blush lay pressed flush to his taut stomach as you slid it through your soaked cunt again and again, rutting against him with a moan each time his blunt tip passed over your sensitive clit to snag at your hood.

The hands resting above his head convulsed with the desire to reach out and grasp your hips, your soft stomach, everywhere and anywhere. You noticed the twitch of his fingers, coyly hiding your smile behind your palm.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed, voice gravelly. “If I can’t touch you, then please have a little mercy and sit on my fucking dick!”

You bit down hard on your bottom lip, knowing that if you even dared to smirk—let alone laugh—it would all be over. Your handsome man rarely cursed, and the fact you’d coaxed it out of him so easily filled your chest with humorous satisfaction.

“Oh, Kento, you’re such a good boy saying please so sweetly,” you teased, ignoring his tone and the cursing. “Let me take care of you.”

Kento hissed through clenched teeth when you finally gripped him in your tight little fist, guiding him to your sopping entrance and inching down agonisingly slowly.

The overwhelmingly pleasant feeling of fullness stole the air from your lungs, his cock bottoming out with an exalted grunt of relief. He might not be able to touch you still, but at least, he could feel you in other ways.

“You’ve made it ten minutes, darling, think you could go another ten?”

[thefreakandthehair]

no better version I could pretend to be tonight

written for ‘charm’ wc: 548 | rated: m | cw: eddie munson's near-death experience and description of panic attack/nightmares @steddiemicrofic

Eddie wakes up screaming. 

It’s how he experiences the crushing weight of living when he was so certain he would die beneath that fiery, starless sky. No one sees the hollowed out face of Death and comes back through the veil unscathed, but if the only sacrifice Eddie makes for his life is his right nipple, some flesh, and peaceful sleep, he figures it’s a bargain. 

Every night for the last several months, a hole cracks open in his chest where his lungs once were that bottoms out and refuses to hold the oxygen he desperately tries to pull in to fill the void. His skin feels too tight, his throat hoarse, his palms sore from the clenching of his fingers into fists that swipe at nothing. The taste of blood and rust coats his mouth, a phantom sense that nothing but time dissolves. 

Casual shrugs and black coffee disguise his discomfort when asked if he’s okay. 

Never better. I’m alive, aren’t I? He jokes.

That should be enough of an answer for his new friends. And it is, mostly. They don’t believe him, but they leave well enough alone. 

That is, everyone but Steve Harrington. 

Steve’s proven himself to be an enigma, wispy in Eddie’s grasp. He can’t quite get a handle on him, but he’s been nothing but good to Eddie besides his relentless insistence that Eddie try sleeping at his house. 

“Just give it a shot, Munson. I’m tellin’ you, I’ve got this sleep charm.” 

“If you wanna get me in your bed that bad, you’re gonna have to try a little harder than that.”

“If that’s all I was doing, this would be a lot easier.”

The kicker is that he does. He trusts Steve, and maybe he just wants an excuse to pretend that Steve’s his to wake up to but the next time he wakes up screaming, he gathers his shit, scribbles a note for Wayne in the kitchen with shaking hands, and drives across town. He parks, walks up to the door with a pillow under one arm, and knocks loudly, unencumbered by the liminal space that is Loch Nora at two o’clock in the morning. 

Steve opens the door before detaching the deadbolt, sleep rumpled and adorable– save for the nail bat just barely visible through the crack of the door. He’s shirtless in just a pair of pajama pants, blue and green stripes that hang a little loose from his hips. 

“Eddie?” Steve mumbles, his voice croaky and low as he rubs at his right eye. “Fuck.” He closes the door just long enough to undo the deadbolt and holds his arm out, ushering Eddie into the quiet of the house. 

“Here for your sleep charm, or whatever.” Eddie looks around the room, dimly lit by the motion sensor porch light through the window and doubts himself. “This is stupid as shit. I can just—” 

Steve shakes his head and places a hand on Eddie’s lower back, gently guiding him upstairs to his bedroom.  “Don’t even think about it. You’re here, and we’re gonna get you some sleep. C’mon.” 

It won’t be the last time Eddie wakes to the tickle of Steve’s chest hair against his nose and the gentle press of lips to the top of his head.

there's a version of this that's 3k that lives in my google docs and maybe one day, that'll end up on my ao3 [update: the 3k version did, indeed, end up on my ao3]

[gazsluckyhat]

The Set Up - two

still sick, so the second half of this may be trash. if it is please forgive my disease addled brain

Kylie didn't need a alpha. She was just fine without one.

or

Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?

Kylie is warm, And sore. Extremely warm and sore. Something is wrapped around her tightly, she has all these conflicting smells. Her legs and throat ached. She couldn't breath from the heat and the pressure around her.

"Mhh." She opened her eyes to see several bodies strewn around her, something hard was pressed into her. Fuck. Last night she…fuck. The captain was holding her against his chest, his cock placed firmly inside of her. Simon was pressed against her front, Johnny and Kyle curled around their feet. She was blocked in. Closing her eyes she tries to take a steading breath. Calm her nerves before she starts sobbing and choking. Finger's turn her face away.

"Mornin' pretty." Simon was awake, brown eyes examining her. Kylie didn't speak. She didn't know what to say. "Are you sore?" She nodded, Simon's hand coming to rub at her cheek. With a kick he jostled Johnny to move and pried her from Price's arms. She stiffened, everything was sore and tight. Simon carried her into the shower room, gently setting her on her feet against the tile. She pulled her arms around herself and stood away from him. Simon watched her as he turned the knobs to heat the water up.

"C'mon dove. Promise not to bite." Smacking his teeth together he pulled her into him, splaying her out to let the water run down her skin. Using his hands he lathered her in his own soap, loving the scent mixing with hers. "Did so good for us last night. So good. Good little 'mega." He peppered kisses along her neck, jaw and head. She tried pushing his hands away when he went to wash between her legs.

"Stop that. You're not leaving here without getting cleaned right." His finger brushing her clit as he made his way through her folds. Kylie whimpered, her body jolting against him. "Still so sensitive dove." Rinsing his hand off, he brought it back between her legs and fiddled with her clit, using his mouth to drown her whimpers. His other hand holding hers to her chest. She was wet, easily slipping two fingers into her he groaned. She could feel him hardening behind her. It was thick and hot against her back. "Think you can give me one this morning?" Kylie shook her head, she was still tired. The steady trickle seeping from between her legs said different. Pushing her front against the tiled wall he started to finger fuck her, her entire body seizing up easily.

"Hardly touched you and you're already cumming. Such a greedy little thing." Kylie cried, her body was on another planet. She didn't even feel him bend her over, not until he slammed home into her. A muffled scream left her lips at the adjustment. "Fuck dove. So warm." She tried to find a grasp on something but couldn't he had her pinned in his hold. The size of him was mind boggling. Kylie could feel him in her throat, the constant slam of his hips dragging her into a intense pleasure hell. One long drawn out orgasm that she couldn't tell the end from the begging of. Simon pulled out, Kylie falling to the ground as he finished in his own fist. Kyle followed the sound of her cries and Simon's grunts. Walking in as the pair finished. He gently picked Kylie up, moving her back into the water to wash her hair and wipe Simon off her.

"Next time maybe be a little gentle with her." Simon grunted, his back agaisnt the cold tile.

Kylie was tucked into a chair. Blankets wrapped around her as the smell of bacon and eggs become clear. Simon was cooking, Kyle sneaking nips and kisses here and there from both of them. She wanted to go home. Wanted her own clothes and her own bed. Wanted to forget last night period. She'd never been knotted. Saved it for her one true love or whatever. Mainly she hadn't found someone she deemed worthy of knotting her. Of marking her and being hers. They were watching her, every little move. They'd given her some paracetamol for the soreness, let her drink it down with a cup of tea.

"There you are doll." She jumped at the voice and the scruff of hair on her neck. "Jumpy are we?" Kylie looked away. He walked to the boys and gently touched their scent glands, Kylie assumed it was a pack gesture. Maybe showing who was in charge, but the way Kyle leaned into the touch said something different. Johnny strolled in, seating himself at her feet. His hands ran up her legs, buried his head in her lap. A twinge in her heart stopped her from flinching. Instead she sat still, allowing him to lay on her. His warmth was welcomed. She watched as the boys finished making breakfast and joined her and Johnny. Price carried a extra plate, setting it in her hands, Kyle doing the same for Johnny. Eggs bacon, toast, even fruit. Her plate was full.

"Eat up bonnie. Last night zapped you." At the mention of her nightly activities she blanched. Price watched, zeroed in on her tiny movements. He could see the fear and distrust. Sense the hesitation, but he could taste the arousal. The need for them. He'd pulled it out of her. Had licked it from her thighs.

"Not really hungry." Her fingers held the fork but pushed the food around. Johnny took it from her, easily stabbing a couple eggs and holding them to her mouth.

"Eat." Kylie could see the look in his face. The alpha, he wasn't giving her a choice. She opened her mouth obediently. Johnny throwing her a lopsided smile. "See, good." She gave a fake nod and swallowed, allowing him to feed her another bite.

"We have a free day today, why don't we take dove and show her the house?" House? What had she gotten herself into. "Let you pick your room, though don't plan on sleeping in it." She meets Price's eyes. "We haven't had a omega in our bed for a while." She had no idea what to think. What was happening? Was she being kidnapped?

"It's okay. I have my own apartment actually." They seemed to chuckle, Johnny pushing hair from her face.

"Of course you do Bon. But once we've claimed ya', you'll have to live with us." Claiming?!

"Wha-no. Not happening." She's forcing Johnny off and away and moving away from them all. "No one is claiming me! Last night was bad enough, no one asked me! I don't even know any of you!" Hands shaking, Simon approaches her like she's a wild animal.

"Now dove, no need to get worked up. You didn't eaxctly say no last night." She hit the island. He pinned her in. He was so much larger than her. "You're ours. Can't you feel it?" She couldn't feel anything but the thump of her pulse between her legs.

"You haven't given any time to think." He's chuckling, tilting her head back.

"Think today. I'm sure you'll come up with the right answer." He bent to kiss her. "We already have."

After being dressed and fussed over they loaded her into a truck and headed outside town. At least thirty minuets. Kyle and Johnny pinned her in and pointed things out. Telling old stories and funny antidotes. She didn't say anything. What would she say anyway? Hello? I'm a person? Might be getting kidnapped right now? No. She just sat there and kept quiet. Maybe after all this they'd let her go home.

"Here she is, home sweet home." Kylie gasped at the house. Even though it needed some TLC it was beautiful. She could tell some work had been done, the fence and gate looked new. The driveway was cleaned and they parked quickly. The front yard needed work, garden beds empty of flowers but overgrown with weeds. Kyle pulled her out, wrapping a arm around her waist.

"You like flowers? Could plant you some pretty flowers here." Kylie nodded. They followed after Price as he unlocked the door and swung it open. They filed inside. Some of the floors had been torn up, wallpaper scraped off. But the bones were good. She could see a fireplace in the living room, what seemed to be a office off that.

"Like I said, needs work but it's gonna be perfect as our home." Hands set on her shoulders as Price spoke above her. "Needs a woman's touch. Your touch, doll." He pushed up a little. "Go on, explore. Find your room. We can work on a rough draft at dinner." Anxiously she nodded and walked to the huge staircase, up the steps and opened the first door. It was beautiful. They seemed to have been doing all the work themselves. Four strong alphas building the perfect home for their omega. Her. For her. But… they didn't even know her? Two rooms down she found it. Two huge windows overlooked the backyard. A big walk in closet and a en suite. She could fit her room in her apartment in the bathroom alone. It was beautiful. Some paint and drapes and she could picture herself waking up in there, wrapped up in one of them.

"Find it sweetheart?" She looked over at Price. This was their house, not hers. "Fits you. We could get a bed big enough for all of us." Her cheeks heated. She stepped foot into the bathroom. It needed to be updated. Space for a soaking tub and walk in shower.

"Need's some work, huh?" He chuckled. "Tell me your dream bathroom." Kylie smiled.

"It's okay." The mirror was cracked. She looked ran through. He walked up behind her.

"This is our house now, yours included. So tell me." Kylie nodded and pointed to the tub.

"I've always wanted a soaking tub. Somewhere I could relax after my heats. Water to my shoulders. Maybe a walk in shower over there? Built in vanity with a sink here." Price nodded, cataloguing it all. What his girl wanted, his girl got.

"Sounds lovely. I'll order some books for you to go through. Pick out everything from the tile to the finish on the handles. Do the same for your room too. Want you to be comfortable here." Did she want that? They were so nice to her.

"Okay. Yeah." Kissing her cheek he took her hand. He led her to the kitchen, which had already been finished. The fridge and stove matched the cabinetry. Seamless transition. Simon and Kyle seemed to love it. The forest green color went great with the cream highlights.

"Boy's designed it themselves." Johnny whispered as they sat at the breakfast nook. They were going over floor tiles and paint colors.

"That yellow would be good for the nursery." Kyle piped up, the soft yellow in his hands. Nursery?

"What about orange?" They glared at Johnny. "What?"

"Orange for a pups room? No. The yellow is perfect. What do you think Dove?" Eye's on her.

"Pups? Nursery?" Kylie looked around. Just last night she was going to report them and here she was with a room picking out nursery colors. She was single. Un-mated. Definitely not expecting. "I'm not pregnant. Or in a relationship. You don’t even know my name and you're sitting her planning my future?" Price sat back and folded his arms.

"Kylie Renee West. Born March twenty-third at two-thirty pm. Graduated early at sixteen, developed chronic migraines the same year. You're AB positive. You can't stand pushy alphas and have spent most of your adult life avoiding alphas at all cost." He leaned forward. "I know you're our omega. I know we're gonna claim you and then gonna take turns filling you up until it sticks." Kylie couldn't breath. They'd been watching her.

"You've been stalking me?"

"Researching. Our job doesn't leave time for chit chat, love. Wanna make you ours before it's too late." Four males sat in front of her ready to give her the world. Whatever she asked for. They seemed to know every little thing about her. God knows they fucked her good. Kylie was twenty-five. Most of her friends were mated and settled. Here was her chance. Was she gonna take it or run?

"Let's say I agree to be your omega. What happens? You expect me to change my entire life? Keep me barefoot and pregnant?" She refused to give up her life for a alpha. She worked to hard for it.

"No need for you to work. We can support you easily. Especially when you get pregnant. Shouldn't be on your feet then."

"Good little omega should stay at home and wait for us to take care of her."  Kylie wanted to scoff.

"I have a life without you, you know? Friends, a job, hobbies!"

"Which is all doable from our house, where you belong. And like Simon said, there's no need for you to work. More time for those hobbies of yours." She was gonna faint. They expected her to drop everything to stay at home and play housekeeper.

"Hell no. I'm not giving up my life. Not for some man's dreams." She went to stand, leave before she said anything else.

"Not so fast little one." She was pressed between two bodies. Kyle and Johnny. "You act like you have a choice in the matter." A hand was in her pants, fingers slipping between her folds and prodding at her clit. Kylie's omega was clawing her way to the front again, being so close to these alphas and the mouth's on her neck.

"You've been ours since we first saw ya' Bon." Johnny sucked her earlobe into his mouth, Kyle's hands playing with her. Kylie tried to push them away, knowing her good judgement was dwindling quickly. The pleasure soaring through her body was causing her brain to melt.

"You can say what you want doll, but you can't deny that your body craves us. You're all but begging us to fuck you. Ruin you." Kylie whimpered. Leaning back into Kyle as Johnny latched his mouth to hers. No one had ever touched her the way they did. They touched places she didn't even know she had. Had never experienced pleasure like this with anyone else.

"Tell us you want this." A hand wrapped around her throat. She looked into Johnny's eyes. Kyle was fingering her, she could hear how wet she was, the squelches loud in her ears. Johnny squeezed harder.

"I-I want this." Her voice was breathy, sounding more like a moan than words. Her toes curled as the orgasm approached. Kyle quickened his pace, loving the look on her face. The scrunch of her brows and whimpers that left her lips.

"You gonna cum for us?" Kylie nodded, Johnny's hand still wrapped around her neck, his teeth nibbling on her ear. "Look so pretty when you do. Taste even prettier." Johnny tightened his grip and watched as her face scrunched up, her hand wrapping around Kyles wrist as she came. Kyle continued until she was whimpering and trying to pull away, shoving his fingers in her mouth to clean.

"Who do you belong to?" John was standing in front of her, his hand palming himself through his jeans. Simon right behind him. Kylie licked her lips before answering.

"You." John smiled and undid his button, shoving them down his legs.

"Good girl, now get on your knees."

tags: @miss-vanta-likes-to-write

[queenhunter102]

Part 11

(Part 10) (PART 12)

Then came a knock at the door, followed by a collective groan, loud and annoyed, “I swear by the moon, that you will tell us your little secret” Johnny said, as he walked to the door opening it a crack. You smiled, glad for the interruption not wishing to be isolated so soon, not sure if you could take another pack icing you out, you had hardly had any time to enjoy having a pack before you were iced out. Your nose twitched at the smell of another alpha, the hair on your skin rising and your skin prickling, when you heard the offending alpha’s voice “I want your superior officer” the voice said, as the intruding alpha pushed the door, forcing his energy into your space without ever stepping foot inside, it both pissed you off and frightened you. John tensed as he turned his head to the offending Alpha, “Why? They haven’t done anything, it was your man who stepped out of line, Captain Wells” he said, as he slowly crept his way in front of you, shielding you from the Alpha’s view. “The little breeder hurt one of my men” Captain Wells gritted out, you cringed when he called you a breeder, the word sounding like venom to your ears. “They only defended themselves, they have every right to do so since the OFARC was introduced in 2006,” John said, as he casually crossed his arms, trying to make himself appear larger. Captain Wells growled, “Not on Military ground, we have rules stat-” he cut off by Gaz “ORO, subsection D paragraph 2 Line three ORO allows Omegas to assert their autonomy against unwanted Alpha interactions, ensuring their safety and dignity. And encourages them to defend themselves from aggression or coercion” He says, not looking at the Alpha only at you his eyes scanning over your body. You like Gaz, he was a sweet alpha, a kind alpha, and he knew to check in on you in situations like this, to make sure you were ok, the growl from Captain Wells snapped you back to the danger you were in. “We have rules for a reason, so mutts like that don’t get in between us” Captain Wells spits, as he takes a step into the room, the resounding growl he received was deafening, as you pulled away from the sound that seemed to be coming from the very walls you leaned against.

John raised his hand into the air before closing it into a tight fist, you could hear him grit his teeth in anger as he spoke “This is an omega sanctuary why are you trying to get inside” he said half growling, you peaked over his burly body to look at Captain Wells, his left being the only one inside you little barrack, your little den. “Omega’s don’t aren’t rewarded with sanctuary, especially little shits like them who think it’s ok to hurt those purer than them,” he said as he lunged for you. You were faster, lunging for him as you used your pitiful body weight against his far larger and far stronger one, it wasn’t the best fight, with you pinned under him, doing your damndest to reign in several punches, your NBOC training kicking in, as you block the majority of his punches. You hear, arguing and growls, while you give as good as you get, it wasn’t long until you heard more arguing and more growls, and the sound of flesh hitting flesh, a sound you didn’t want to hear again not at least for some time came crashing into your ears. You managed to find your way on top of Captain Wells, giving you a chance to see two other Alphas in your space one had Alejandro pinned to a wall while Simon was trying to pull him off, and John was pinned to the wall the intruding Alpha’s back to his chest while Johnny and Gaz took turns punching him, you gasped as Captain Wells had grasped your throat in his tight grip squeezing it. You panic from the sudden loss of air, your hands reaching up and clawing at his hand instead, trying to pry his fingers off your throat you try and produce a growl, a whine something anything, that would get your teammate's attention but Captain Wells was squeezing too hard. He brought you close to his face, “Now lookie here if the big tough omega, isn’t reduced to snivelling, snotting bitch” he spat, in your haze of panic you claw his face, he yelled as he let go, allowing you the chance to scramble backwards, your hand grasped your throat, it now marked from his grip. You slide away from him, finding a spot under one of the beds sliding under it, you hear a growl and then a body hitting a wall before it slides down, you watch their legs and boots, and you yelp when a hand grabs your hair dragging you from under the bed. You twist in their grasp your hands trying to find purchase on something, hell you’d take a pillow if it meant putting distance between you and your attacker, Captain Wells growled as he pulled you up to his face level. “Pathetic, really the MI5 sent you here” He growled as he punched you, your head not giving much room to reel back from his hit.

It wasn’t long before he dragged you further along the floor as you scrambled to scratch him, he laughed as he moved towards the door, “Drop them James” John growled as he threw the younger Alpha to the floor. “Why? They’re pathetic, weak even” he said shaking you as you clawed at his hand, “Drop them, James, I won’t ask again” John said, as he stood standing between you and the door.

Captain Wells, growls and grits his teeth as he shakes you again for a final time before he throws to John’s feet, “I don’t get why we breed with such mutts” he says as he gives you a final kick to the stomach. As he steps over you laughing at the grunt you made, John grabs Captain Wells, hauling him over you completely, bringing him close to his face, “Listen here James, they didn’t do shit wrong, they defended themselves from shitbags like you” he grunted as he threw Captain Wells out. Followed by Captain Wells's two henchmen, the curtsey of Simon and Gaz, John huffed as he turned to you eyeing where you lay on the floor.

Taglist: @astro-ghoul9, @prettykinkysoul, @ssc7514

(If you want to be a part of my tag list, check HERE for specifics)

[kme-2020]

8

I stood up quickly, panic setting in as I realized the painful lump in my throat was stuck. I tried to swallow; nothing. I attempt to cough but my eyes grew wide as I realized there was no air to move the candy. I attempted a self-Heimlich with no success. I ran to the kitchen counter and threw my abdomen against the edge, but the candy didn’t budge. I knew I needed help. I banged a fist on the counter, praying it would get your attention.

”Liz? What’s wrong”. I spin around at the sound of your voice and wrap my hands around my throat, desperate for you to understand I am choking. I try and cough but the candy still doesn’t budge. “Liz!” you cry out. You cross the room in a flash and spin me around to face away from you. Your arms are around my waist, finding the spot above my belly button. Your hands thrust in and up into my abdomen. The force shocks me and I collapse over your arms. We stumble but you steady us and thrust into me again. The candy doesn’t move. “Come on Liz!” you say as you perform another Heimlich, “breathe!” You thrust again “breathe Liz! Fuck!” I hear the panic I feel mimicked in your voice.

I feel dizzy and hot in the face. I lurch with each thrust, your arms tight around my waist and grasped hands firm in my abdomen. You continue the Heimlich as I sink to my knees. I’m desperate as I pound my chest, bracing myself for the impact of each painful thrust. I feel you kneel behind me and press your body against my back, struggling to find your rhythm now that we aren’t standing.

My head swims and my vision tunnels when suddenly a strangled “huff” escapes my lips after a particularly painful abdominal thrust. My hands fly to my throat and I feel you pause, arms still wrapped around my waist. Several sharp blow between my shoulder blades rocks me forward, but still no relief from choking. I shake my head and point weakly at my throat, begging you to keep trying. You understand and resume abdominal thrusts. Another strangled “huff” and I feel the blockage shift. I try and cough as you thrust, and with a final grunt, the blockage is cleared. I grunt and gag as you continue thrusting, so I grab your hands and continue coughing, struggling to breathe. “St…stop!” I force out between ragged gasps. I lean forward onto all fours, my brown hair hanging in my face, my sweater askew, chest heaving as I greedily drink in the air my lungs were starved of for too long.

You pat my back as I wheeze and gasp, desperate for air, my throat raw and painful. I feel a rush of relief and adrenaline shoot through my body. Panting, I lean back into you and close my eyes. Your arms circle sound my waist, but this time you embrace me rather than painfully forcing your fists into my diaphragm. My hands settle on my chest, feeling the rise and fall with each breathe, my heart pumping rapidly under my palms.

“Liz? Talk to me Liz” your voice is shaky in my ear. I turn my head and meet your frightened gaze. I nod my head. “I’m okay” I manage between gasps “I’m okay, I can breathe now…I’m okay…”

[aza-trash-can]

The Mitski's gotten to me, sad and serious headcanon/mini-fic/whatever the fuck this is ahead

Basically, I thought "no way in hell Satoru was fine after Star Plasma Vessel mission, he absolutely had some fucked up coping mechanisms/thought processes before he buried them in the slightly less unhealthy coping mechanism of 'train and go on missions until he can't think'" and my mind went down some darker paths

Please pay attention to the tws and feel free to skip this. To those who want to read, godspeed soldier

TW: Self harm, blood, graphic depictions of injuries, unhealthy coping mechanisms

After the Star Plasma Vessel Mission, Satoru can't stop feeling… wrong. It's not because of his awakening. Sort of. It's not that the powers he wields feel too burdensome or heavy or unwieldy in his hands. It's that he botched the first time he used them.

Suguru says he didn't. Shoko says he didn't. But he knows he did. The rough, jagged line that had split him open tells him so. The four deep marks on his thigh tell him so. The thin line under his bangs tells him so.

He botched it. Didn't heal it properly the first time. Shoko says it's a damn miracle he's even alive, but he feels so wrong. So… imperfect. So weak. And he can't fucking stand it.

So he practices. Over and over and over again, small scrapes and bruises at first, injuries gathered from carelessness. Then gashes on rocks from… clumsiness. Yeah, clumsiness. Then clean, deep lines from a knife he had stolen. There's plenty of knives in the shared kitchen of the dorms, a single one going missing doesn't mean shit.

He practices and practices, watching intently as his blood oozes and pours, as his muscle and flesh stitch back together as if nothing had happened and blood now only stains perfect porcelain skin. And he's crazy, he knows he's crazy, you need to be crazy to be a sorcerer, but the blood is comforting. It hurts, of course it hurts, but it's familiar to him now after being bathed in it as he teetered that near atomically thin line between life and death.

It's night when his final test begins. He can heal himself so perfectly now, so beautifully, even when the injuries are severe. Sitting in front of his mirror only in shorts, he takes the knife he'd stolen weeks ago and carves into his thigh with the precision and patience of an artisan. Around and under each scar, blood dark as ink in the dim light of a room only illuminated by the moon. It coats his thigh, his fingers, makes his grip on the flesh he's cutting away slippery and loose. But he focuses, his grip firm but not too tight, each movement calculated to perfection because he is perfection, he must be perfection, he is the pinnacle of jujutsu society so now more than ever he must be perfect. And if this goes right, which he's almost sure it will, then he can fix his mistake. He can fix his botched attempt and heal himself back into perfection.

He atomises the chunk of flesh in his hand as soon as the final strand connecting it to his body is cut, uninterested in keeping a reminder of imperfection when he has already learned and grown from it. His blood drips onto the floor, his thigh a slick mess from it all, but he's healed it. It should be perfect now. His final test should prove a success so he can move on to riskier endeavors.

Except it's not. Fingertips coated red feel the same rough skin he had just cut away, mocking him and the perfection he tried to carve. That's not what was supposed to happen. That's not what was supposed to happen.

He slams a fist into his mirror with a scream, raw and ragged and tearing out of his throat as frustrated tears well in his eyes. The mirror shatters, shards slicing into hands already smeared with his own blood. This isn't what was supposed to happen.

Trembling hands pick up the knife again, now slippery in his bloody grasp, and he plunges it deep into his thigh. Tears it along the crimson expanse, watching as more blood spills from the jagged edges he rips over and over and over and over.

He doesn't even hear the footsteps pounding down the hallway, the muffled call of his name, the slamming of the door as it bursts open and brings in a frazzled and quickly horrified Suguru.

"Satoru…” The words don't reach him. Nothing reaches him. It can't, not yet, he hasn't fixed it yet, he needs to fix it and get rid of these disgusting, ugly scars and be perfect again.

Suguru kneels down next to him and catches his hands as Satoru tugs the knife out of his thigh to dig in again, pressing down on his wrists to get him to let go. The knife clatters unceremoniously to the ground, and Suguru holds him back as he reaches for it.

"Satoru, what are you doing?"

"Let me go! I was fixing this, come on, let me go!"

"Fixing what? For god's sake, you're bleeding.”

"Not anymore, it's already healed–”

"Already healed?"

"– but it's still wrong, I don't know why it's wrong I'm doing everything right I'm so close to fixing it I swear just let me–" He lunges for the knife, but Suguru still holds him back. The tears welling in his eyes spill as he struggles, trying to worm his way out of Suguru's iron grasp.

"Satoru–"

"Let me go!"

"No!"

"Please!" Begging, how humiliating. But he'll beg if it means he gets the chance to fix this, or at least let this test run longer as an experiment. If he can at least glean something from this, figure out what he's still not getting, what he's still lacking, then he can fix it later. He can still fix this. He can still fix himself.

But Suguru doesn't budge. He pulls him closer, actually, and that just makes Satoru furious. He fights harder, but it’s just pathetic squirming in Suguru’s arms, he knows that, and it’s so humiliating, so humiliating, that he tries to push Suguru away, but he still doesn’t move and that just makes him feel weak.

"I just… I need to– let me fix myself. Please. Please. I can do it, just let me… just let me…"

"I'm sorry."

"Please…”

"I can't." Of course he can't. Of course. Satoru could never expect him to, it's unfair. It's unfair. It's all so unfair.

It's like that that he slumps in Suguru's embrace, tears still racing down his cheeks and dripping into the soft fabric of Suguru's shirt. The blood dries slowly, sticky and tacky on his skin, still slick on the floor where it's pooled.

At some point in the night, Suguru settles Satoru in the corner as he puts the knife in the kitchen sink and shoves the glass against the wall for them to clean up tomorrow. He brings back a wet washcloth and does his best to wipe away the blood from a listless Satoru. It smears a bit, too much to properly clean with only a washcloth, but it does the job for now. The skin below is only as scarred as it was before his test. Healed perfectly, except for that imperfection he had previously made. He wants to cry. He would start if he wasn’t already.

It’s the next morning, after silently cleaning up the glass and washing away the blood still stuck to his skin and mopping up what spilled on his floor, that Satoru goes to Shoko, Suguru already gone on a mission with an apology on his lips. He doesn’t say what he did, he knows that won’t go over well, so instead he asks around the issue vaguely.

“Reverse Cursed Technique heals in part by accelerating your body’s natural healing abilities and in part by restoring the damage to the state it was in before that damage. I mean, think about it, you can’t use it to grow extra limbs or anything like that. The first time you healed yourself, you probably didn’t find the right balance between the two.”

“But I’ve found it now. Shouldn’t I be able to fix the scars?”

“After five weeks? It took me years. You’re insane, I hope you know that.” He does. “But, no, you can’t. Scars don’t heal, and this is your ‘before damage state’ now that your body is working with. Any new damage won’t give you scars when you use Reverse Cursed Technique, but old wounds stay.”

He can’t fix it.

“You didn’t try anything stupid, did you?”

“Nothing with permanent damage. New permanent damage.” Shoko raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t push further. She’s good like that, giving him space so he doesn’t need to cast Infinity between them to keep that distance. “Well, uh, thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem.” He turns to leave, not wanting to stay a second longer, when Shoko calls out gently, one last thing to say. “Hey, scars don’t heal, but they fade. Give it time, okay?” He nods and leaves the infirmary, treks back to his room, and crashes to his bed.

He can’t fix this.

He can’t fix this.

He can’t fix this.

So weak. He’ll get stronger. He has to get stronger. Fix it in other ways. Fix himself in other ways. Time to focus on training other aspects of his technique, huh?

[fuckmelifesucks]

You Saw

Pair: Elriel {For Elriel Month 2023}

Summary: Elain pours her heart out to Azriel. 

Warning: Angsty, no specific POV so kinda messy.

Words: 3.6k

Characters: ACOTAR; Sarah J Mass.

~~~~~

“I did it.”

The soft murmur was heard from the doorway of the living room in the empty Townhouse. He stilled, every muscle in his body going taut as the soft words floated over to where he stood in front of the unlit fireplace. He registered the words, mulling over the meaning behind them. She did it. Had she done what he thought she had? Or was he getting ahead of himself? She couldn’t possibly have done what he thought she had.

No, she wou –

All thoughts ceased as he turned to face her. His mind went silent at the look on her face as she stood there, chest heaving and cheeks red. It was the look of utter relief. The look of finally doing something one was too afraid to do, thinking that there would be severe consequences. It was the look of relief he knew he once donned himself when he had been released from the shackles of that prison of his childhood –that small dark room where the very shadows became his only friend.

The shadows that twirled around him stilled as well. For a moment, nothing moved, as if the whole world itself held its breath to see what came next.

“What?” The word came out so low, he wondered if she even heard him.

Elain took a step into the room, then another and another until she was well over halfway in, her dress of soft pinks and violets rasping behind her, so at odds with the dark leathers that he donned and the shadows that surrounded him, circling his hands and weaving through his fingers, the massive wings that peeked over his shoulders imposingly.

“I did it. I talked to him. I told him – ” She paused, gulping around the thick ball of emotions lodged in her throat, hands clenching the fabric of her dress into fists, “I told Lucien that I did not want him. That I could not be with him and that I wanted to break –reject the bond. I wanted to break it even, if that were possible.”

Azriel didn’t know what to say, what to do with his clenched hands and tight jaw, what to do with his mouth full of cotton and head heavy as lead, his wings tucked tightly against his back. So he stared. Stared as he had so many times before when he thought no one was looking. Stared with the same longing that tightened around his chest like a vice and the same pain that choked him like a noose wrung around his neck every time he was reminded that he could not have her, that she was mated to another. That didn’t seem to deter Elain much as she went on.

“We talked, really talked about everything. He told me how he was happy in the human lands with Vassa and Julian and I told him how I was happy here, in the Night Court, with my family. I told him how I felt like I finally had found a purpose for myself. I told him everything that I felt ever since the bond snapped into place. And – ” She took in a breath, as if to collect her raging emotions, “I told him that I could never feel for him the way the bond wanted us to feel for one another. I told him that I could never give him my heart. And that with me, he would always be miserable. We would both be miserable if ever we were to accept the bond.”

She took another step in Azriel’s direction, watching him stand there, as still as a magnificently beautiful statue. Though, his shadows belied him, dashing from one spot to another, swirling in tight circles, clinging to him, as if to help hold him together. His wings flexed.

“And Lucien – ” The backs of her eyes burned and Elain was sure the tips of her pointed ears were glaringly red, “ –agreed.”

The breath was knocked out of Azriel’s chest as she uttered those words in a gentle voice of relief. In a tone that felt like the spring finally coming after a cold, harsh winter. He couldn’t seem to grasp what she was saying and yet he could.

She had decided to reject her bond with the Autumn Fox. For a moment he felt like he was still asleep, passed out from sheer exhaustion and that this was one of the many torturous dreams that made him never want to wake up from his slumber again. He almost pinched himself to make sure.

“We agreed to reject the mating bond together,” Elain said softly, her doe eyes flickering.

Elain watched Azriel finally move, taking a few steps towards her, eating up far more distance between them with only a few strides. She wanted him closer. Wanted for him to rush toward her and pull her impossibly close to him. Wanted for him to wrap her up in his arms and cocoon them in his wings and kiss her until she was breathless and then kiss her some more.

“Why?” There was not a crack of emotion on his face as the syllables left his mouth. Though, Elain knew him. She saw him and saw beyond that hard unmoving mask he so often hid behind. She saw the uncertainty. Not in her or in them, but in himself. Elain felt her heart burn for him.

Azriel watched Elain tilt her head slightly, a small furrow between her brows and thought to elaborate, “Why can you never feel for him that way? Why can you not give him your heart?”

Deep down, he knew the answer all too well and yet he needed to ask her, needed to hear it from her own mouth, in that sweet, delicate voice of hers that felt like feathers softly gliding down his skin. Like a cool salve to his injured heart. He needed to hear her say it to believe it for self-doubt always gnawed at his insides like termites.

Elain let out a soft breath of air, “Because… I only have one heart and it already belongs to someone else.”

Blood rushed to Azriel’s ears and for a heartbeat, he couldn’t hear anything other than the pounding in them. He said nothing but the small distance that separated them held enough tension that even a blind person could feel it. Behind him, his shadows lashed out in a frenzy, some dancing, some gliding, some rushing, some darting around. He resisted the urge to spread his wings –peacocking them, as Elain so very generously liked to put it.

He felt so much and yet, not a single thing showed on his unmoving face as Elain gazed at him. He was feeling far too much and he didn’t know what to do. And so, unknowingly, he let that mask of icy stillness that he wore so often to hide the turmoil within him fall into place. He had never been good with such feelings and emotions, after all.

And yet, Elain saw right through it. No matter what mask he hid behind, somehow, Elain always saw through and looked solely into the Azriel hidden beneath. Her brows furrowed as she took a step closer to him, tilting her head once more, though no milky sheen took over her eyes as it did whenever the Seer within her came out.

“Take your mask off when you are with me,” She said in a soft but firm whisper of honey and jasmine.

Azriel blinked, and then a moment later, all that he felt, the surprise, the relief, the happiness, the uncertainty, the self-doubt, the worry, crossed over his eyes like white clouds passing over a field, turning grey as a storm brewed. He let that mask drop and laid himself bare for Elain to see. To see what he’d never let anyone get a glimpse of. He let her see all that he was and all that he felt – his emotions wrecking him from within.

“Oh, Azriel…” The sound of his name from her lips threatened to leave him undone, “Had you really thought I could ever leave you behind for a bond that I didn’t even want?”

Sorrow coated her doe-brown eyes as she neared him, stopping only when there was barely any space between the two. Elain watched as the shadows that so tightly wound around him backed away, instead circling the two of them in a ball. She bit her lip as she brought a hand up to cup Azriel’s cheek, soothing a thumb across his honey-brown skin.

“Did you really think that I could give my heart to anyone but –” Her voice wavered at the anguish in his eyes, “ –but you?”

Had anyone ever chosen Azriel the way she chose him? Had anyone ever been willing to give up something as sacred as a mating bond only for him? Azriel knew the answer to those questions and felt like he was going to break into a million pieces right there, only to have Elain pick each one up and put him back together with her loving hands that took such care of him just because she wanted to.

He parted his lips and yet nothing came out. Thoughts swirled like a hurricane in his mind and yet he couldn’t seem to open his mouth and word them. He feared that the hurricane might just sweep him up within it and leave him lost and ruined. But one look at that soft face of Elain and her knowing gaze always pulled him back. He watched her eyes flicker and knew that she knew all that he wanted to say and yet couldn’t know how to.

Azriel knew he was done for. Knew that his heart solely belonged to the soft and gentle yet fierce middle Archeron sister. Knew that he would carve out his own heart and present it to her on a platter of gold if only she asked. He fell to his knees then, feeling heavy in body and in soul, his legs feeling useless as they refused to support his weight upright as such emotions threatened to consume him whole.

A soft gasp left Elain’s lips as Azriel fell to his knees before her, his head bowed and shoulders hunched, wings lying limp behind him. And in that moment, Elain couldn’t find it in herself to see the fabled Shadowsinger or the feared and ruthless Spymaster of the Night Court in the male before her. In that moment, all she could see was the scared little boy in that cold and dark room, who suffered through what no child should’ve gone through. In that moment, he seemed so impossibly small and vulnerable. Elain felt her heart shatter for the boy who was never loved the way he deserved to be loved.

She was kneeling in front of him in a heartbeat as the organ within her chest threatened to burst out. He refused to meet her eyes as Elain took hold of his hands, stroking the rough ridges on the backs of them in gentle caresses. Azriel’s throat tightened and it felt like someone had shoved thorns into his mouth. His eyes burned as dams of emotions thrashed within him to spill over.

“Azriel.” The soft whisper wrapped in a delicate voice seeped into him like a drip of warm honey. “Look at me, Azriel.”

Had he ever shied away from anyone’s gaze in such a way? Had he ever been so vulnerable that he couldn’t meet someone with his eyes? He was not sure. And yet, as Elain asked that very thing of him, he couldn’t find it in himself to look into her eyes. He knew that if he did, he would spill, tipped over like a weak boat in a sea storm.

“Please.”

That soft plea coated with such tendrils of desperation had Azriel’s heart almost stopping, his gut wrecking at the anguished tone. Finally, as he looked up, Elain’s breath hitched at the sorrow etched onto his beautifully carved face. At the wetness that rimmed his sharp eyes –such bright hues of magnificent greens and browns and yellows and greys swirling in them.

Elain brought a hand up to cup his cheek, golden-brown skin smooth like marble under her touch, and Azriel leaned into it, craving the warmth of her palm against him. That mere touch felt like the warmth of the sun and the sweetness of care. It anchored him like nothing else had.

“My sweet Azriel.” She stroked her thumb across his cheek like a lover’s caress, “How could I ever even imagine choosing anyone over you? Giving my heart to anyone who wasn’t you?”

Azriel didn’t know how long he would last before the dams tipped over. He brought his hand up to hold onto the one Elain had so softly placed onto his cheek. A cord had wrapped so tightly around his lungs, he almost couldn’t breathe. He tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. His mouth felt full of ash wood dust.

Cauldron! He didn’t know what to do.

“I have loved you for so long now. So long, I do not remember my heart belonging to anyone but you.” A tear slithered down Elain’s flushed cheek, “I chose you, my love, so long ago.”

“How long, Elain?” He spoke, at long last. He needed to know. Because deep down, he knew that he too, had chosen her long before he even knew he had. Deep within him, he knew that he’d chosen her when she had tried to wield a fork against Cassian that first time he’d met her. Oh, how lovely and beautiful she had looked, even as a human.

Elain cracked a small smile, a misty sheen spreading across her sweet brown eyes, as if she were recalling a distant memory of hers, “Ever since you saw me when no one else would.”

He had seen her when no one else would. Azriel knew what she meant. All he knew was that he had looked at her and hadn’t been able to look away. How could he when the sight of her always reminded him of beautiful summer dawns and warm peaceful sunsets. She was everything good and pure, it made him wonder, how could anyone ever look away from her. And yet, he knew that her words held a much deeper meaning to them.

“You would really go through with it then,” He rasped weakly. “You would really choose a bastard like me over a mating bond with a High Lord’s son.”

“Yes, Az! Mother above, yes, I would,” Elain huffed. Her soft eyes bore into Azriel’s as she continued, “I would reject a hundred mating bonds as sacred as the Mother herself if only it meant that I could be with you. I would choose you in every lifetime. Do you want to know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you saw me. And you heard me when no one else would. You were always there, at every step of the way. You became my friend when I so desperately needed one. You spent time with me in the gardens even when you didn’t have to –not to get me to talk but only to sit in my silent company. You listened when everyone turned a deaf ear, not giving any mind to the riddles I uttered. You pulled me back from the brink of insanity,” Her voice cracked with the emotions running rampage within her.

A tear leaked from Azriel’s eye as she spoke, “Do you know, Azriel, even in those murky days, you were always real. You were always real even when nothing else was.”

Elain went on, “You saw me, Az, for who I really was. You looked past the pretty face and lovely dresses and saw what lay beneath. You saw the ivy and dirt and thorns hidden beneath the flowers and you accepted them. You saw and were not disappointed. You looked and did not look away. Only you. And day by day –” a wet laugh slipped Elain’s lips, “ –bit by bit, I fell madly and so very deeply in love with you. With all your good and all your bad. With all your scars –inside and out.”

“I fell in love with the male who had become my closest friend. Most importantly, I fell in love with a male my own heart chose worthy of its affections instead of someone chosen for me by some magical pot.” Elain calling the Cauldron –the thing that was life and death itself – that had Azriel’s lips curling humorously, despite the fullness he felt in his chest by her words.

His shadows had thickened so densely as they swirled and circled around the pair tightly, Elain was sure none who entered the room would be able to glimpse them. And yet, not one of his shadows came in between them. Not one dared to conceal him from her. They stayed away, just like Elain had wanted them to. After all, they could never hide him from her. She could read him like she could read the back of her hand.

Elain brought her hand to the back of his neck and leaned forward, their foreheads touching, and closed her eyes for a moment, pulling air into her lungs. His scent of night-chilled mist and cedar enveloped her like a soft comfortable blanket on a winter night. She never wanted to leave.

“You always believed in me, no matter what. Like how you believed in me when you lent me your most prized possession, Truth-Teller. The very knife that helped me kill the King of Hybern. You never saw me as a fragile flower to be kept sheltered.” Gratefulness rang heavy in her soft voice.

“You were never a fragile flower. Anyone who thought that was a fucking gods-damned idiot.” At that, Elain let out a weak laugh and Azriel smiled at the glow on her tear-stained face.

“Yes,” she opened her eyes to look deeply into his, “Yes, they were.”

They gazed into each other’s eyes as such emotions hung between them, content in their own little haven, away from the outside world of politics and war and strategies and unwanted bonds and unsteady alliances. Neither of them wanted to leave but they had to. They knew they had to and so, they cherished each and every little moment they could snatch like hungry lovers who met only in the dead of night, in nooks and crannies, with only the moon and the Mother as their witnesses.

They had been sneaking around for so long, going behind their family’s backs because of the shadow of the mating bond looming over them. The same one that would soon be rejected. The pair couldn’t express how elated they felt at the prospect of not having to shadow their love under the pretense of a mere friendship and finally being able to be what they truly meant to one another.

Two lovers with a love for each other so strong, it could surpass even a mating bond. Theirs was a love not meant to be hidden in dark corridors like secret sins. Theirs was a love that scholars preached about in books of great wonders for centuries to come. Theirs was a love that young hearts dreamed of witnessing.

“My heart solely belongs to you, my Azriel.”

“And you hold mine in the palm of your hands, my love.”

Azriel smiled at the sweetness of love that shone like a hundred suns on Elain’s soft, lovely face, bringing his palm up to the smooth, long expanse of her neck, caressing the skin and then moving up to her cheek, stroking his scared thumb gently across the flush that adorned her.

“I will love you to the ends of the worlds, my doe-eyed Seer,” Azriel vowed in a low voice of complete and utter certainty.

“We will forge a bond of our own,” Elain said with such conviction. “A bond so strong, no one could break it. Will you make it with me, Azriel? Will you help me forge it? Will you bind with me? For eternity?”

Azriel blinked. How could she even ask him that? How could she not know the answer that his very soul screamed to tell her? He almost felt like he just might burst from the happiness that exploded within him. There was only one answer to her questions. An answer he had known for a very long while.

He slammed his lips against hers, his hand wounding around her waist to pull her closer, pressed to him, while the other crept up to fist her hair, tilting her head the way he wanted, to deepen their kiss. He kissed her hungrily, jasmine and honey flooding all his senses, and so did Elain, pouring her entire heart out into that kiss as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He wanted to devour her and she wanted to consume him. Like two eager lovers uniting once again after a long while.

He kissed her like a starved male having his last meal and she kissed him like a thirsty female finally finding water. Together, they both drowned in one another and came alive.

“Yes,” he whispered against her lips, holding her delicate face in his hands. “Gods, yes. It will be the greatest honor I will ever, in all my centuries, receive. I want a bond with you and you alone. For eternity.”

And then they crashed into one another once again. Hands roamed and clothes ripped. Lips whispered silent prayers of worship against skin, and in a tangle of sweaty bodies and pleasured moans and satisfied grunts, it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended.

~~~~~

@elriel-month​

[black-is-iconic]

Drifting Away

Obanai I-I'm sorry, the words spilled from her lips like silken honey but they felt more like poison daggers carving deep into his heart as he held the mangled remains of his precious companion. His snow white scales sullied with crimson streaks, alluding to the grisly fate dealt to him in the care of the one person he thought he could trust the most.

A deep pain surged through his body, the ache that had plagued him as a child returning with a viciousness. The only thing preventing a cry of anguish ripping itself out of his throat was the tight knot of tension tightening his stomach until it threatened to burst with each agonizing heartbeat that drummed against his rib cage.

His mouth open and closed in silent agony, he clutched at his chest desperately as he struggled to keep air flowing past his constricted windpipe. "W-" his words failed to form properly, and when he tried again, he couldn't even manage a breathy whisper.

Tears gathered at the corner of his eyes, Mitsuri reached out to comfort him but he recoiled from her touch as if it burned, unable to meet her concerned eyes "W-what happened?" He whispered in a eerily hollow voice "What happened?!" He snapped when he received no response and all the hashira flinched as tension rose between them. He took a few steadying breaths, trying desperately not to break down and lose it Mitsuri shuffled again tears streaming down her rosy cheeks as her emerald eyes sought forgiveness but their was only pain and sorrow reflected back at her as her beloved friend's face hardened in anger and betrayal.

“I-I'm sorry I…he tried to eat some of Tengen's muscle mice but then Tengen got really mad so I let him go outside to catch his own mice" she squeaked and Obanai's hands trembled as he rubbed his face "that doesn't explain…..WHY HE'S BATTERED AND IN PECIES I LEFT HIM IN YOUR CARE MITSURI WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO MY FRIEND" he snarled furiously as his hand curled into a fist and he began to advance on her.

She cowered before him and raised her shaking hands to plead with him, "OBANAI CALM DOWN" Rengoku shouted trying offer him some comfort but Obanai slapped his hand away "don't touch me" he hissed voice cracking under his emotion as he turned away, clenching his trembling fists to stop himself from hitting something.

Fingers clumsily wiping away the tears that threatened to spill over Obanai glared at the floor, "I…." he bit his lip painfully hard hoping it would stop or slow the onslaught of emotions surging within him like a raging tempest. It did nothing, Mitsuri hesitantly hugged him and his body stiffened in response but he made no move to pull away. "I'm sssorry, I'll fix it" Mitsuri said softly rocking him slightly to try and calm him down.

But Obanai slowly pulled away, gently grasping her shoulders and removing her from him "please don't touch me, h-how are you going to fix this?" he choked out, fighting off more unshed tears as they prickled behind his eyelids threatening to fall. He backed away from her fingers coming through his short ebony locks as he took a deep breath "he's dead" he choked out as his voice broke under another wave of grief and pain. "I-I'm not sure…b-but I know if we-" her hands grasped his own but he yanked it away

"STOP….touching me" he growled as he took several steps back shaking, "THERE'S NO FIXING THIS…I-I" his throat burned with unspoken words and he bit his lower lip to force himself to swallow. Silence stretched for minutes after Obanai's outburst. The silence of the room seemed deafening "w-we could always get you another snake" Rengoku offered enthusiastically Obanai's eye twitched in annoyance and anger at the thought of replacing Kaburamaru as if he were just an accessory or a decoration.

"I should've never trusted you I-I you said you could do it it WAS A SIMPLE TASK I-I" he buried his face in the crook of his arm, allowing his striped hoari to soak up the tears that escaped his eyes as his body trembled violently with suppressed sobs "I'm such an idiot, I shouldn't have listened to you."

His voice was muffled by the cloth he still hadn't removed from his face "I…shouldn't" he mumbled weakly as he tried to steady his shaky breathing, but the tremors continued. "I-I'm so sorry Obanai, I really am I just got distracted for a second and then he was gone please understand" Mitsuri pleaded, her hand once again reaching out for him.

But he quickly stepped forward once again avoiding her grasp, "Please understand what?" He asked venomously, his voice quivering as his rage grew "understand that you were irresponsible, understand that I asked you to do one thing, and you decided to disregard my wishes to do what, what was so important that you walked away from my companion that I ENTRUSTED to you" he cried, his voice growing louder with every syllable.

The atmosphere grew tense around them, Mitsuri looked down at the floor tears spilling down her cheeks as she stumbled over her words "w-well I went to talk with Shinobu-chan and I-I…um" she swallowed around the lump in her throat, "and you left him outside…by himself" Obanai whispered in a eerily calm tone "w-well he's a snake" she argued in a shaky voice but his cold, gaze remained fixed on her "WOULD YOU LEAVE SOMEONE'S BABY OUTSIDE?"

Obanai snapped and Mitsuri flinched , tears pouring faster from her eyes "what no that's completely different a baby is a baby and a snake is well…a snake…" she stammered and Obanai sighed heavily and scrubbed at his temples trying to ease some of the tension building there. "It's not that serious really, I can get you a new snake maybe one that's even better than the last…I-I'm sorry it was wrong of me me to leave him outside but don't you think you're overreacting a tiny bit?" She attempted to reason with him, although she didn't sound convinced herself.

Obanai's nostrils flared in anger as he threw his hands up but took a deep breath calming himself, "I-I…..I'm going to go I…need space" he whispered walking away "Obanai….I-I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" Mitsuri murmured grabbing his shoulder but he shrugged her hand off "keep your sorry, I don't forgive you…. leave me alone, I-I" he took a deep breath "I need space" he growled through clenched teeth as he stalked out the demon slayer manners allowing his feet to guide him as he became lost in his thoughts.

He wasn't entirely certain how long he had wandered aimlessly in circles for but he came across a bridge overlooking a lush valley filled with dense clusters of trees, the breeze ruffling his hair as he leaned onto the railing.

He stared at the lush green grass beneath his feet mesmerized by its vivid nature, although beautiful the entire peacefully little valley was multicolored ropes crisscrossing about and weaving their way into the scenery creating beautiful patterns of color.

He was both confused and intrigued, taking a step forward his foot brushed against a small white string and he tensed hands flying to the hilt of his blade preparing for some form of attack, but when nothing happened he relaxed stepping over the little string and continuing down the bridge and noticing a cozy looking cottage nestled between the flora and fauna.

The cottage was so…peaceful and serene…like a little haven hiding away between its surroundings of vibrant vegetation and vibrant flowers blooming freely throughout the landscape. Suddenly his knees gave out as he crumpled to the floor allowing the tears to finally flow freely that he was alone, no one could see his broken façade and the soft cries that shook his whole body.

A slight disturbance in the air made he flinch jumping to his feet and reaching for his blade but in a matter of seconds his blade was knocked from his grasp and his back hit the floor as a strange woman pressed a elegant looking club with sharp curves protruding out of it like fangs against his neck. "The tips are laced with snake venom I wouldn't recommend moving" she warned in a soft whisper. Her kinky curls spilling down her back and shoulders like a ebony waterfall, the strands framing her dark skin beautifully.

Her [E/C] eyes hardened as the two just gazed at each other in silence, although…her eyes didn't seem to be focused on him but rather past him instead. Brows furrowing silently as he waved his hand in front of her face and her eyes barely moved to focus on them, "you're blind" he stated bluntly. She sighed "actually I can see quite better than most" she hummed offering him a hand up which he took. "I don't understand" he murmured and she gave a short snort "most people don't, would like some tea I've just finished preparing a cup for you" Obanai furrowed his brows at the strange woman, dressed in a azure blue kimono covered with intricate swirls that resembled the ocean "no, who are you?" He asked in a hushed toned tinted with uncertainty, the woman laughed and it's light an airy "Oh I known who I am, but the question is do you?" Obanai scoffed at her question and crossed his arms "so you're going to negate my question?" He asked coldly and she turned around "no" she said pursing her lips "I'll answer your question with a question, why are you here?" She asked [E/C] piercing him with an intense glare behind those long lashes . Obanai narrowed his eyes "why does it matter?" The womans brow creased again but her smile never falters "only the broken and lost can find my domain" she hummed casually walking forward "I'm not broken or lost" he rebuttaled and she snorted again "and yet here you are, I've been expecting your visit for quiet sometime now but I guess Kaburamaru's death was the final push" she mused while ducking under his blade as he tried to decapitate her "demon" he hissed through clenched teeth and she smirked again "incorrect" she motioned pointing up to the beaming sun above them while laughing causing his cheeks to flush in annoyance and embarrassment. "If you're not a demon what are you?"

He asked eyeing her warily as her lips retained a pleasant smile despite him trying to kill her just a second ago "human of course" she said clasping her hands together but he wasn't buying it "I don't believe you" he murmured and she shrugged walking past him, "of course, you're entitled to your opinion" she replied calmly making her way towards the bridge as he followed behind "but there's no way for you to know that information if you aren't some kind of mind reading demon or something".

Obanai argued as they walked up to the cottage a sly smirk pulling at her lips "or something" she quipped and his brows furrowed "so you aren't human?" He asked once more as she handed him a soft green steaming up, he squinted at the cup the looked back up at her with a slight scowl but slowly took it in hopes of getting some answers "so many questions" she mused "then you should answer them" he urged and she simply smiled "in due time" making him growl in annoyance "what does that even mean?"

He hissed as she slowly sipped her tea "it means I can not fill a cup that's overflowing, trust me when I say we'll meet again Obanai Iguro, but only when you're empty and willing to listen." His brow twitched and he opened his mouth to speak but the words fell silent as she raised her hand to her ear, "someone's calling you, oh and tell the lovely young lady to be careful the ground is unstable here", Obanai scoffed again "now I know you're crazy nobod-" he started but then clear as day he heard Mitsuri calling his name and he turned his head scowling in her direction. "Okay that was just a-" he muttered turning back to the strange woman only to find her and the entire colorful valley gone, replaced by dense forest and looming trees .

Confused (and slightly scared) Obanai stepped forward into the forest glancing left and right, but there was no sight of the mysterious woman or the peaceful valley "Obanai" Mitsuri called earning a soft growl from the serpent hashira. He turned to face the love hashira with a frown but then he remembered the warning "Mitsuri stop" he called and the pinkette skidded to a stop with a confused look only for the ground a few feet in front of her to cave and crumble to the side opening up a cavern before disappearing with a loud rumbling noise. Shaken Obanai took a half step backwards as he looked up at a equally scared Mitsuri, looking down at his hands trembling around the tea cup he decided he brought it up to his nose and took a sip….it was his favorite…..

[sunnynwanda]

True enemy: Part 2

Part 1

Warning: violent death. Not exactly detailed, but if you think this could trigger you, please do not interact. 

                                                            ***

"You should battle someone more suited to you," Villain snarls. A smile is the only response they get as the old supervillain circles them.

"And who is that supposed to be? You?" he asks, stopping Hero's attempted attack with a slight movement of one hand. "I've heard otherwise."

His tone is sarcastic as he crushes Hero against a concrete wall. "What, do they mean something to you? Sorry, I like crushing the bugs that get under my feet." With that, they smash Hero against the floor.

Villain watches them coughing blood, their own blood boiling in their veins. They charge, placing themselves in front of the Hero. "Let. Them. Go."

"Or what?" Their nemesis smiles wider than before when Hero gets up again. "Stupid, but stubborn. Wonder if that's what you find charming in them?"

Villain turns to Hero, allowing themselves to be thrown back too. They grab Hero's arm, pulling them behind a column. "Stay back." Hero shakes their head.

"Hero, listen to me." They look up as Villain cups their face with both trembling hands. They're so warm Hero has to suppress a low groan. "You can't handle him."

"I know that better than anyone," Hero chuckles, frowning when the action sends a jolt of pain through their beaten and battered body. "Doesn't mean I'll go down without a fight."

"I've got this," Villain assures, not knowing how to fit the whole story in a remaining couple of seconds. "Trust me, I've got this. Stay back."

They step away, but Hero grasps their wrist, their bright eyes clouded. "I won't leave you alone. I can't."

Villain graces them with a fond smile. This right here is the reason they fell for Hero that quickly and irreversibly. "And I can't watch you die."

They barely manage to finish the sentence when a hand wraps around Hero's throat, squeezing tight and lifting them off the ground.

"Let them go." Villain demands again. Hero struggles as much as they can, but their enemy is much stronger than anyone they've had to face. That they know of, that is. "I said let them go. I'm not gonna repeat it again."

Red floods Villain's eyes when their nemesis throws Hero to the side. They curl their fingers into fists, taking several deliberate breaths upon seeing Hero sag on the cold ground.

"You were the only one to ever defeat me," the wannabe supervillain notes, way too pleased with himself to pay attention to anything that's happening around them. And around them, things are happening indeed, concrete breaking and rebar melting under Villain's gaze. "Should've killed me when you had the chance."

"I will," Villain assures him, releasing the pent-up rage into waves of ravaging heat. Their enemy's screeching fills the air as they watch patches of skin and flesh burn off to their bones. "Should've let them go when I asked you nicely," 

Villain allows a fatal wave of heat to pass through his heart, stopping it. As their rage subsides, back comes the panic. They frantically search the area, locating Hero and rushing to them. "Hey, hey hey," they lift Hero's head off the ground, placing it in their lap and brushing the unruly curls off their forehead. "You can't die. You hear me? You can't..."

"I'm not dying, I'm resting," Hero groans, making Villain yelp and jump back. They watch Hero pull themselves up and lean against a wall, not letting them out of their sight. "You coulda told me you were a goddamn abomination in hiding, you know?"

"God, you scared the life out of me," Villain grabs their chest for good measure. Their heart is indeed racing.

"I did? You just destroyed the strongest villain in the history of existence." Hero pushes up on their hands, but their knees give in. Villain catches them before they hit the ground.

"Wrong. I'm the strongest villain in the history of existence. You're lucky I like you." And no, they aren't boasting. It's a fact. One they weren't exactly comfortable with before. One they are grateful for now.

"I think I'm lucky you're a good person." Hero chuckles, wrapping an arm around Villain's neck and watching them jump off the building. Flying to a hospital, they assume.

"Offensive much?" the joking retort makes Hero laugh. Ouch. That hurts. "Anyways, I gotta go back to jail once I drop you off."

"Next time you escape," Hero starts, making eye contact. Villain can't help the grin that stretches their lips when they hear the proposition. "Take me to dinner to discuss world safety or whatever else you're into."

Part 1

Masterlist

[unusual-raccoon]

@greeksorceress, a snippet of my JaceLuke v. Lucemond fic idea where the Blacks won the war:

“Where are the girls?” It is the first question from the king’s mouth upon entering Lucerys chambers.

The queen let’s out an amused hum, his needlework set aside in favor of chastising his husband.

“I believe it is customary to-“

His smile fades quickly upon to turning to face his lord husband, Jacaerys’ expression was startlingly severe. The king’s hand, the Lord Cregan stood behind the king, blustery silver eyes narrowed without an ounce of the mirth Lucerys had learned the wolf of Winterfell discreetly possessed. Luke’s stomach dropped.

“Rhaelle is in the library, Aemma is in the gardens - my love, has something happened?”

When no answered came, Lucerys rose from his seat, hands trembling.

“Jacaerys?”

“They are to remain under guard at all times,” Jace instructed Cregan who marched from room with a nod.

“Jace, what in the seven hells is going on?”

His brother-husband exhaled a sigh, wordlessly apologetic as he extended an arm for Luke to curl into; a gesture he gladly sank into.

“The girls are well,” Jace assured instantly, rubbing a soothing broad palm up and down Luke’s arm, staving off the prickle of gooseflesh. Lucerys exhaled a warbled wet sound, grateful.

“I’ve received a letter,” Jace murmured against the dark spill of Lucerys’ loose curls. The queen sniffled a small snort.

“‘Tis common for kings, is it not?”

Jacaerys didn’t laugh.

“Well, who is it from?” Luke asked, teasing lacquered nails at the right furl of his brother’s fist for the parchment hidden in his grip.

Jace’s jaw tensed.

“Our uncle.”

The fearsome Aemond One-Eye. He shivered.

Lucerys’ blood throbbed cold in his veins.

“Impossible.” He hissed, pulling himself from Jacaerys’ grasp to pace across the floors in slipper-clad feet.

“We always knew his survival was a possibility.” Jace reminded, voice measured, diplomatic.

“Yes, of course - I’ve tolerated his survival on the other side of the Narrow Sea.” Lucerys hissed, a hand tangling anxious knots in his dark curls.

“What does he believe he is entitled to now? What is it he hopes to gain by writing to you?”

His heart plummeted as he considered his husband’s words to their lord hand.

“Has he threatened our children? Jace-“

“Not as of yet, but I wished to have girls protected as precaution. Our uncle has only asked for one thing.”

He blew out a breath, a trembling hand pressed to his lips, chewed raw from his frayed nerves.

His husband paused, dark eyes so very earnest.

“My love,” Jace called, his voice tender, “what happened at Storm’s End?”

The question is so disarming that Lucerys nearly stumbles. He hadn’t thought of that fateful night in…years.

“Aemond has asked about Storm’s End?” Lucerys repeated carefully, sweat sticking to his nape.

“No,” Jace replied, “I am asking about Storm’s End.”

Lucerys felt his throat sting dry and his palms turn slick.

“You have never asked about this before,” Luke murmured, anger withering only to be replaced by dread. They had been but young and courting in secret and madly in love at the outset of their mother’s war of succession. Jacaerys had never pried into the happenings of that night, only relying on the belief that Lucerys would tell him all when he was ready to do so.

“I have not felt the need to until now.” Jace admitted, slouching in the way he is never permitted to while wearing the Old King’s crown.

“I don’t understand, what does Storm’s End have to do with our uncle’s missive?”

Lucerys can feel a knot in throat, tense, a strain to breathe around.

“Does he believe old feuds will put him on the throne?”

“He does not want for my throne,” Jacaerys says, jaw flexing tense.

“What does he want then?”

His husband’s hand coiled tight around the creased parchment, knuckles white.

“You.”

“Aemond has asked for you.”

[rosemaidenvixen]

Witch Hunter

Chapter 13

<Previous Next>

Ao3

The ringing of the announcement bell startled Jim’s attention, nearly making him drop the half full basket of eggs.

When the loud ringing persisted, proving itself real not a figment of his imagination, he frantically turned towards Barbara. She pressed her lips together, setting aside her own basket.

“We’d best be off, whatever trouble for us there might be will only end up worse if we don’t appear,”

Jim winced, wishing for all the world that he and his mother could take flight to the next town over, or preferably even further than that, even as he put on his hat and coat and followed her down the path to the town proper.

A town meeting called in the middle of the week. Days after the Reverend set his cousin on the hunt for a witch.

His stomach gave a painful twist, fighting the urge to vomit.

Nothing good could come of this.

When they arrived a crowd had already started to gather in front of the meeting house, both Reverend Greystone and Hopkins standing there looking stern. But what really set Jim on edge was that neither of them was ringing the bell. It was Goodman Hughes yanking on the rope causing the bell to sway and clang, glaring at the gathering crowd with a dark look on his face.

Goodman Hughes had taken his wife’s stillbirth harder than anyone. He hadn’t smiled or laughed once since that day. Now he was rarely seen outside the company of Hopkins or the Reverend. His presence here as the bell ringer boded nothing good.

To make matters worse Constable Mayhew was nowhere to be seen.

Jim’s hands balled into fists as his sides as he and Barbara settled into the crowd. It was only the knowledge that fleeing now would be just as good as a confession that kept him from grabbing his mother by the arm and insisting that they run.

He shifted from foot to foot, glancing through the gathered bodies, spotting Claire standing with Temperance and Goody Greystone just behind the Reverend. Goody Greystone keeping a hand on each of the girls’ shoulders, her face drawn and pinched. 

Jim didn’t dare to try to catch Claire’s eye, but after several moments of cautious observation he saw that both her and Temperance wore matching expressions of composed confusion.

Whatever was going on–

Whoever was being accused

They were just as much in the dark as he was.

Eventually, once nearly the entire town of Arcadia was gathered, Reverend Greystone gave his head a single nod, Goodman Hughes immediately releasing the rope and stepping to his side. The show of obedience deepening Jim’s unease.

“It is much to my sorrow that I make this announcement,” the Reverend’s voice carried over the crowd “But during my cousin’s dutiful investigation–”

Hopkins bowed his head in acknowledgment.

“He discovered that the witch troubling is a member of this very congregation,”

Shocked gasps broke through the crowd, quitting down into hushed whispers as the entire town buzzed with tension. Jim’s heart stopped, he snapped his gaze up at Barbara to see her staring straight ahead, face chalky and trembling hands clasped together in front of her belly.

This was it, his mother had spent her life helping and healing as many people as she good and now all her kindness and hard work were going to get her accused of witchcraft.

“The accused shall be brought into custody–”

Jim reached over to grasp his mother’s elbow, hands shaking and throat tight.

“And interrogated for her involvement in maleficum–”

It would be alright. They wouldn’t just hang her straight away. There would be an investigation, a trial. A search of their house would yield no evidence of conjuring, Jim had made certain of that. And surely one of the many women she’d helped over the years would come forward and testify to her good nature, they had to right? All the people she’d aided over the years surely couldn’t abandon her in her own hour of need…

“Constable Mayhew will you please bring forth the accused–”

Jim squeezed his eyes shut, a tear running down his cheek.

“Sarah Parson!”

Jim’s eyes flew open, suddenly dry.

What?

An indigent shriek startled him out of his shock. Jerking over to see Constable Mayhew dragging a howling Sarah to the front of the crowd, brown locks in disarray spilling out from her askew cap.

“Release me at once!” she screeched, digging her heels and thrashing in Mayew’s grip “I’m no witch!”

“So you claim…” Hopkins was utterly unruffled by her furious state, just as calm and unbothered as if they were discussing the weather “However a witness places you as going to the fields the night before the blight was discovered,”

“What!? I wasn’t there doing magic–”

“She admits it!” Constable Mayhew bellowed, yanking her arm none too gently “She admits to going to the fields to work her malicious conjuring!”

Sarah’s eyes widened, for the first time she looked frightened “What!? No I–”

The crowd rippled, gasps and shouts of protests as something pushed them aside. The wave of motion reached the front and Thomas Greene burst forward from the throng of people.

“My Sarah is no witch!” he charged towards Constable Mayhew only to be held back by the crowd.

“Thomas! It’s a mistake! I swear! I be no witch–”

“Use your head lad! The truth will come out in the trial–”

“--don’t pry your filthy hands off her I’ll break every last bone in your–”

“Enough,” Hopkins raised a hand, everyone present instantly going silent and still “Sarah Parson’s exact involvement in the dark magics plaguing this town will be uncovered during her interrogation. We will uncover the truth no matter the cost. Constable, take her away,” 

Mayhew tightened his grip and dragged the shrieking Sarah away, Thomas strained against the arms holding him but they held him fast.

Giving a single shake of his head Hopkins stepped forward to address the crowd “Rest assured good townspeople. My cousin and I will root  out the witch in our midst calling down ruination on this town, for now you may go about your business while we commence our interrogation,”

With that he spun on his heel and followed in the path of Constable Mayhew. Reverend Greystone stayed where he was. If Hopkins’ words hadn’t been enough of a dismissal the Reverend’s stern glare made it clear.

Their part here was done, they were to disperse immediately, go about their chores as usual and leave the witch hunting to the witch hunters. People gradually breaking away from the crowd and moving away.

Jim couldn’t move, horror and relief filling him in equal measure. The emotions canceling each other out into a numb emptiness.

His mother had been spared, the accusation he’d spent countless sleepless nights fretting over hadn’t come to pass. His mother was safe, the shadow of suspicion falling on another–

Gentle fingers on his shoulder startling him out of his shock, glancing up to see Barbara staring down at him with a pained gaze.

In an instant guilt became the dominant emotion inside him. 

Now was no time to celebrate, his mother may yet be accused. To say nothing of the horror poor Sarah Parson now faced.

[valleynix]

A Nix original? 👀

May we have the excerpt?

yes 😌 be warned it is the first draft and things are subject to change :)

She is drenched in her enemies’ blood.

She does not know where she is or who she is any longer, for the weight of her sword in her hand is the only thing she feels. Her fingers are cramped and tight, her wrist sore and aching, but she does not stop. She will not stop.

Her love is gone. It is their fault.

The mourning mark of her lady is smeared across her cheeks and eyes, and she wonders if it is the rain or her own shed tears that has made the mark so messy. Would it matter which it is? She supposes not.

Her black cloak blows behind her as another falls to the ground, his throat cut before he could ever think to draw his own weapon. She has done this for what feels like an eternity.

Nothing is new to her.

The man’s torch clatters against the road, his blood leaking from his neck like a river finding its course through the cracked stones. When the flames turn to embers and the blood turns to water, she continues on her path. Her unevenly cut hair sticks to her face as a gentle wind blows through this street, though she is not sure why it feels attached to her skin.

Sweat, blood, rain, tears… She does not know. She does not care to.

The weight of her sword is all she should know.

There are more up ahead, chattering away, laughing at her. Her bones ache and scream for her to stop, but she shoves the feeling down, instead choosing to focus on the way her boots and armor clank as she walks. She is making good time, but she does not know if she will find her way again.

A man and a woman hear her coming, as she has come to expect. She raises her greatsword, gifted to her the evening she swore to protect her love, and brings it down upon them. A spear is driven toward her as the man’s shoulder is cleaved straight through, the blade narrowly missing his heart. He will not live long, and his body hitting the ground seals his fate.

The spear nicks her cheek, slashing along her skin as blood now drips down her jaw. The woman comes to regret that action a moment later when she cannot lift her spear in time, and the sword severs her head from the rest of her body.

She does not bother wishing an easy rest on them as she moves forward, her sword dragging behind her, the steel blade causing sparks to fly as it scrapes against the dull stones. Her dark cloak whips behind her, stains its ends in the blood that threatens to drown her.

It won’t be long, now. This town should be the last. It will be the last.

Her curse will overtake her if she does not succeed this time. She has already failed once too many.

Her head twitches to the side, pain lancing through her skull. She pushes herself up a set of stairs, her left hand struggling to keep her standing. She must persist, must do it for her.

She will not accept another way. She cannot.

But her limbs grow heavy. When did she last eat? Sleep? Could she even call the bones and muscles that ache in her body her own?

She does not remember if this body is hers. Did she not give it up when she swore her life to her lover?

“Swear it to me,” her lady says, kneeling in the tall grass as she grasps the knight’s young face between her hands. Her long hair gently blows in the wind, a stark contrast to the paleness of her face. “You will always come back to me, won’t you?”

The knight nods, dark eyes wide and full of wonder. She takes a deep breath, raising a hand to place her fist over her heart as her jaw sets. “I swear on my dying breath, my lady. My body, my mind, my sword; they are yours to do with as you please.”

Her lady snorts and pinches her cheeks as she releases them. “Don’t be silly. I do not wish for us to grow apart when you leave.”

“When I leave?” the knight asks. She rests her hands on her thighs, clenched. “Where will I go, if I am not to remain at your side? What will I do?”

Her greatsword finds its way buried deep into the heart of a man, squelching loudly in her ears. His blood stains the front of her chest piece and what remains of the colored cloth that bears her lady’s warm colors. She is reminded of a sun setting beneath a mountain, pulling a blanket of clouds over its body as it lays to rest.

She is not deserving of these colors. Her body is no longer what it once was, when they were gifted to her.

The man falls to the tower’s floor, groaning quietly as he draws his last breaths. She continues to the cells, her head throbbing and her heart pounding in her chest.

She ignores these feelings. Her lady is near.

“You are no longer a lost puppy, sweet thing. You need not follow in my shadow.”

The knight frowns, her brows furrowing as she looks to the sword between them. “And… What of this? What does it mean?”

“Is it not a token of your loyalty?” Her lady brushes her hand along the hilt, gently tapping the deep blue stone that rests there. “I gifted it to you, after all, under the assumption you would be mine. Do my words mean nothing to you?”

“N-No!” the knight stutters out, her cheeks flushing deeply. “I mean- They’re everything to me, I… only do not know where I stand. I wish to know how… how you feel, my lady.”

“Oh? No one has dared ask me such a thing.” She giggles quietly, shifting forward to rest her forehead against the knight’s. “You should know it by now, shouldn’t you?”

A sword is jabbed at her bicep, slicing through the cloth as it finds the only spot her armor does not protect. She makes no sound as she swings her own blade over her head, cleaving the man’s arm from his shoulder, as she has done countless times before. He falls to the floor from the force of it, hissing through his teeth as his blood pools around his torso.

She slowly buries her sword into the man’s heart through his weak armor, no match for the steel that burns in her hands. Perhaps they should have anticipated her arrival, and they could have known how to stop her.

As it stands, she goes through them as if they were nothing but dirt beneath her boots.

The mourning mark of her lady drips into her eyes, heat racing up the back of her neck. It stings, but she blinks the bleariness and pain away as she walks forward, her eyes searching for her lady. She must be here. Where else could she be?

Her cheeks flush deeper as she bows her head, her hair falling into her face. It is her lady that lifts her back up, a gentle smile on her lips as she places a soft kiss between the knight’s brows. Her heart pounds painfully in her chest, and she does not understand why.

It has always been her lady that makes her feel this way. Is it not wrong of her? Are they not from two vastly different worlds, their pieces never fitting quite right?

She is a protector. That is all.

“Lost in that handsome head of yours, are you?” her lady quietly asks. Her lips find purchase on the knight’s cheek, lingering for a moment. “My father tells me you leave tomorrow. I… wish we had more time together.”

The weight of the sword now sheathed at her back is familiar as she searches the various cells in this hallway, her eyes straining against the darkness. Quiet wails sound in her ears and things shuffle within them, but she does not see her lady.

She presses on. She must be here.

Blood drips down her arm and causes her clothing to stick uncomfortably to her skin, but she pays the feeling no mind. She is so close to fulfilling her duty and her sworn promise-

To who? Does she remember her lady’s name?

It must be engraved in the locket around her neck. She reaches a hand up, shaking as she touches her neck-

It is gone.

No. No, no, no.

That was all she had left. She has nothing, and how can she? What does she look like?

“We could run away,” the knight jokes, though her lady frowns at it. “I… I’m sorry. I know this is important to your family.”

“So are you. To me, that is.”

Her heart cracks in her chest. She can’t continue like this, she can’t let her lady see how badly she has failed. She swore to protect her, to always come back, and why can’t she?

The knight shakes her head, tugging it away from her lady as she pushes herself away. “You say these things, but… I do not know how to feel.”

Her lady hums, a soft sound that feels like music she has never heard. “Do you find it strange? We can stop.”

“I don’t want us to.”

The knight does not know why she says these things. She is a protector, a warrior. She has no time for whatever one could call this feeling in her chest. Aside from that fact, she is not permitted. What would her mentor say, or the lord? She cannot have what they do.

Soft, uncalloused hands grasp her cheeks again, tugging her attention back to her lady. She frowns again, but it is out of concern, she thinks. “Would you mind if I kissed you? I have wondered of the taste of your lips on mine for some time.”

The knight does not know if her cheeks or ears can burn any hotter. Must she embarrass herself this way?

She stumbles back a few steps, her breathing erratic as she searches the darkness. She doesn’t know where she is, who she is. What has she done?

She has to find her lover. She has to-

She must. She is all the knight has left.

Her mother gone one evening, her father never returning from his adventures, her sister disappearing by the river. She has no one.

Tears prick her eyes as she stumbles down the hall, frantic in her search. She must have dropped it. It must be nearby, she couldn’t ever leave it without realizing.

“N-Not at all. My lady.” She swallows the lump growing in her throat, her eyes flicking between the golden hues of her lady’s. “This… is not proper, is it? Should a lord of higher standing not be your fancy?”

“A strong, kindhearted knight that has sworn her loyalty to me? I could not ask for a more wonderful thing.” Her head tilts to the side slightly, her eyes flicking down. “Are you uncomfortable? I only wish for you to feel yourself around me, but if this is too far-“

The knight stops her lady’s worried rambling with a swift kiss to her lips, awkward and weird. She has never done such a thing before, but it takes no time for her lady to take the lead, smiling as she settles into a rhythm.

Her heart pounds in her ears, whispers in her mind as she stumbles into a brighter hallway, blinking rapidly at the sudden light. Two men meet her halfway as she rushes through, her boots thundering against the stone as she bolts through the halls, using a small dagger at her thigh to get through any that wish harm upon her.

Bodies lie in her wake, lonesome as they stain the stones a deep red. She does not regret it, but the tears in her eyes certainly do not help her state.

She isn’t sure what she sees or who she’s looking at. Faces flash in her vision as she pushes forward, unable to get a full breath in, her hands reaching out to steady herself on the slick walls as her dagger clatters to the floor.

Voices shout at her, beg her to stop. She does not.

She cannot.

How could she forget what her lady looks like? Sounds like? She does not remember even a name.

She would be so disappointed. Perhaps it is deserved.

She breaks through a rusted door, staggering into the night and straight down a hill as she loses her balance and whoever was closing in on her heels. She tumbles down, her sword loosening from its strap at her chest and leaving its place around her, harshly smacking against her face. Her cloak strangles her, wraps around her throat, threatens to steal her breath-

She hits a river, sinking toward the bottom almost immediately as it rushes by her, water pounding in her ears. She tries to catch her breath, tries to push herself to the surface-

She must claw her way to the shore, the metal claws on her fingers digging into the sand as she blindly yanks herself forward. The current from the river attempts to lure her to its depths, promising her a name, a face-

She does not listen. The bones in her fingers ache and she coughs, only sucking in more water during her struggle. The muscles in her arms burn but she continues, pushing on, screaming as she pulls herself above the river’s rushing current.

The water she inhaled comes back up as she continues attempting to pull herself onto the dry sand, only accomplishing tugging half of her body onto it. The sand sticks uncomfortably to her face as she vomits what little remains of her insides, gasping in air before the next round hits her like a stone thrown at her chest.

It takes her some time to calm down, for her heart to settle and her ears to stop ringing. She ponders her death, if another her is somewhere in that river, struggling to find her way to the surface. She must be gone, now.

She weakly pushes herself onto her back, closing her eyes as she breathes deeply, attempting to calm her breathing. The tower remains across the other side of the river and voices continue to shout at her in a language she doesn’t understand, but for now, she is safe.

Her lady is still gone. She does not know where to find her, now, or where to go. Is she welcome anywhere? Will they recognize her?

It takes her some time before her limbs feel like her own and she knows she can move once more, despite the creak in her bones and the ache in her muscles. She will have to find her sword, as she refuses to let another memento of her lover’s find its way from her grasp.

The moon shines brightly as she stands, her arms shaking when she rolls onto her stomach, her armor poking into her skin. She uses what’s left of her strength to keep herself on her legs, despite the way they wobble and she staggers a few steps.

She breathes deeply, her heart settling in her chest. The voices continue to shout things she does not understand, and she supposes she never will.

Her blurry eyes search for any sign of her lady’s sword, and she thinks she sees it further down the river’s shore, stuck between two rocks. Its sheath reminds her of her lady’s colors, and she supposes that is all she has left.

As she stumbles down the sandy ground, leaning on sharp rocks and small trees for support, she promises herself one thing.

She will not give up, will not turn from this venture. Does she not deserve better?

Perhaps it is simply in her family’s blood to die for those they love. Has her time come? She would welcome it with open and willing arms, if only it would allow her to see one last time.

The knight reaches for her sword, grasping it tightly between her aching fingers as she stands once more.

She will find her lover, return what was lost to her.

She must.

[lemoncrushh]

Too Far From Texas | Chapter Twenty-Six

STORY PAGE

Word Count: 5655

Sweat dripped down my back and my heart beat rapidly in my chest as I climbed off Harry and collapsed onto my pillow. I turned my head to watch his profile, silhouetted in the dark by the light of the moon. I couldn’t tell if his eyes were open, but his lips were parted as he let out heavy puffs of breath between them, his chest heaving in a corresponding rhythm with mine. He cursed low and reached out for my hand between us, grasping it with a tight grip.

Sex with Harry was always award-winning to me. Noteworthy. Something erotic novels are inspired by. We always left each other satisfied, though I still seemed to hunger for more, even if my dehydrated body thought otherwise.

He’d wanted me in the middle of the night again although we’d just made love a few hours before. He’d said he wanted to make the most of my time there, didn’t want to waste a moment, even with sleep. He couldn’t get enough of me, he’d said, and I’d let out an insatiable moan, opening up to him with pleasure before we switched positions, and I’d hopped on top.

The truth was I hadn’t been asleep. I’d lied awake for half an hour just after having another one of my nightmares. It hadn’t been a long, detailed dream like the others. I didn’t even think there had been dialogue. It was more about a feeling, an emotion. I was angry and humiliated. I stood in the middle of a large room, people surrounding the perimeter of it, watching me. I could feel my fists at my sides. They felt heavy, like someone was holding them down. I wanted to run away, but my feet wouldn’t move. Then a man stepped into my view, standing right in front of me. He didn’t look like Harry, or even Tod, but he resembled them both in a strange way. Again, it was just the feeling. Though he didn’t speak or smile, I could sense the laughter in his eyes. He was mocking me. I lifted my arm finally, but it felt like I was holding a brick in my hand. I moved to strike him, but he grabbed my wrist in mid-air. That’s when I’d woken up.

I very easily could have fallen back to sleep then after that workout with Harry, but my bladder and my dry throat wouldn’t have it. After squeezing Harry’s hand back, I released it and walked around the bed to the bathroom where I relieved myself and grabbed a bottle of water from the cabinet. Twisting the cap, I took several large gulps. Then I grabbed one more bottle and patted back to the bedroom.

“Ah, thanks love,” Harry said groggily when I handed him the water.

I danced to the other side of the bed as Harry guzzled his water in less than five seconds, then he rose from the bed to make his own way to the bathroom. I watched his cute butt until it faded into the dark, then laid back on my pillow once again.

“I love you so much,” I heard him murmur when he crawled back into bed.

“Mmm, I love you too, sugar,” I said sleepily, starting to drift.

“Are you falling asleep?” He pulled me to him by my waist and pushed my hair from my face.

“Mhmm.”

“Okay,” he sighed. “I guess I’ll let you.”

I chuckled under my breath and puckered my lips for one last kiss. He took them eagerly, slipping his tongue in between.

“Harry…” I groaned as he made his way down my neck.

“Okay, okay,” he pouted against my skin. “Sleep my love.”

“You should sleep too,” I insisted.

“I’d rather lie here and watch you.”

I giggled with my eyes shut. “You’re too much.”

“No, you are,” he said. “I can’t believe I wasted three days having parties and taking phone calls when I could have been doing this.”

“It was not time wasted, Harry.”

“Maybe not. But if I didn’t love music so much I’d just as soon stay here forever.”

With a big yawn and the contented sound from his throat that made me smile, Harry was silent for a few minutes. I figured he’d decided to drop the subject finally, and when I opened my eyes, his were closed, his beautiful face relaxed like he hadn’t a care in the world.

Anne’s flight left early so Harry and I didn’t get much sleep. Harry told me I could stay in bed, that he was used to getting less sleep and that his mother would understand, but I thought it rude to miss saying goodbye, so I dragged myself up and showered before breakfast.

When I made it downstairs to the kitchen in time for waffles, I yawned loudly as I poured my coffee. Harry smirked as he stepped behind me at the counter, patting my rear end and whispering in my ear that he was sorry about last night.

“So worth it, sugar,” I mumbled before bringing my mug to my lips.

That seemed to satisfy him, and he grinned proudly while he filled his plate and brought it to the table next to his mother.

“Any big plans for your last day in Los Angeles?” Anne asked me when I sat down.

I looked at Harry, not sure how to answer. He hadn’t told me about any plans.

Anne looked from me to her son. “Harry, you’re not taking Stacey anywhere? Surely you’ve arranged something.”

Harry’s jaw opened like he was going to say something, but instead he shoveled waffles into his mouth.

“Harry Edward Styles!” Anne exclaimed.

“Mum!” he said with a full mouth. Then his eyes got wide. Anne seemed to get the hint.

“Oh!” she sucked in her lips like I’d seen Harry do many times. “Seems I’ve let the cat out of the bag.”

I raised a brow, eyeing Harry. He just kept on chewing. I kicked him under the table.

“Ouch!”

“What’s up, Harold?” I teased.

He grinned and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Nothing.”

“Please tell me I’m not meeting more important people. I don’t know if I can…” My voice trailed off as I wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence.

“No,” Harry shook his head. “But I do have a surprise for you. You’ll like it.”

“I will?”

A wide grin spread across his face and he reached across the table to take my hand. “I promise you will.”

My stomach flipped as my brain immediately began to think of any possibility, like a roulette wheel. Harry squeezed my hand and returned his gaze to his breakfast, but I suddenly couldn’t eat another bite.

“Well, I should get my things,” said Anne as she rose from the table. “Car will be arriving soon.”

“Um...this surprise…” I addressed Harry once his mother was out of earshot. “Does it involve Jeff or Glenne or any of your other friends, or just me?”

“Just you,” Harry replied. Rising from his chair, he took his plate and mine, bringing them to the kitchen.

“But we’ll be going out?” I inquired, following him.

“Well, yeah. We have to go somewhere for the surprise.”

“Will we be papped?”

Harry turned on the faucet, letting the water fall on our syrup-soaked plates for a few seconds. Then he turned it off and looked at me.

“Unfortunately, I can’t promise we won’t be. It’s a possibility.”

“Oh.” I couldn’t hide the frown on my face, and Harry noticed, stepping closer to me and putting his hands on my arms.

“Are you okay with that?”

I thought of all he’d said to me before, how it didn’t matter to him, only we mattered. I thought about how proud he was to introduce me as his girlfriend to people I’d never met, people that were important in his life. I bit my lip and nodded.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“If it happens and it starts to make you uncomfortable, say the word and we’ll come home.”

I nodded again. “Okay.”

“I love you,” he confirmed. Then he smiled. “And you’re really gonna like this surprise.”

I couldn’t help but return the grin. “What do I wear?”

Harry eyed me up and down. “What you have on is fine. For now.”

I looked down at my simple jeans and t-shirt. “For now?”

“Well, you’ll probably want to change for dinner.”

“Dinner?” my eyes widened. “We’re going somewhere for dinner?”

Harry chuckled. “Yeah, but that’s not the surprise. That’s just...for later.”

“Oh my God,” I muttered. It was finally hitting me. I was going out in public - officially - as Harry Styles’s girlfriend. We were probably going somewhere really nice and swanky, and I was going to be seen on his arm. The party Saturday night was just the beginning.

“I wanted to do something really special for your last day here,” he said.

I took a deep breath and let it out.

“I’m excited.”

“Yeah?” he beamed.

I bit my lip. “Okay, truth? I’m excited, nervous and hopeful all rolled into one. But mostly excited.”

Harry slid his arms around my waist and kissed me on the nose. “I’ll take it,” he said.

When the car arrived to take Anne to the airport, I stood back, thinking Harry would want to say goodbye to her privately and I’d give her a hug on her way out the door. But she surprised me by taking me aside in the alcove, saying she wanted to tell me something.

“I just wanted to make sure everything was okay between us,” she said calmly though there was a look of concern in her eyes.

“Oh of course,” I nodded.

“No hard feelings about the...baggage comment?”

“Please,” I waved my arm in a sweeping motion. “Water under the bridge.”

“Good,” she smiled. She really did look like Harry so much it was scary sometimes. “I just want to remind you that I think very highly of you, and I’m happy Harry has found you.”

She kissed me on either cheek then, not giving me a chance to reply before she turned for the door where Harry stood. I watched her whisper something in his ear, they embraced, she squeezed his hand and she left.

I walked up to Harry as he shut the door, wrapping my arms around him from behind. He took my hands in his and pressed them to his chest.

“You ready for your surprise?” he asked.

“Mhmm,” I hummed against his back.

Releasing my hands, Harry turned to face me with an easy grin. Then slipping his hand in his pocket, he pulled out his keys and jiggled them.

“Let’s go.”

I didn’t ask where we were going. One of the main enjoyments of a surprise is just letting it be exactly that, with no questions. I sat next to Harry as he drove through L.A., taking in as much scenery as I could. Once again it was a beautiful day, and for a little while I imagined what it might be like to live there. There were so many things I disliked - and even hated - about Houston, and since my adolescence I’d wanted to live in California. As we wound the hills and made our way to the freeway, I fantasized about bringing my girls out there one day. The cost of living was definitely higher in California than it was in Texas, but maybe after I published the second book, I’d have enough to get us a little apartment. Maybe Lorelei would feel like making the move too. We could go visit Harry when he was in town, Jaz and Em could swim in his pool…

My reverie was interrupted when Harry cursed, and I realized what was happening. There was a pile-up on the freeway, and we were stuck behind it.

“Just great,” Harry scowled under his breath.

I chuckled. “Looks like a typical day in Houston. Can’t get anywhere in less than an hour these days.”

“It’s typical here too,” he commented. “I was just hoping to avoid it.”

To ease his tension, I smiled and placed my hand on his thigh. He smiled back, covering my hand with his and threading his fingers through. We were both quiet for a bit, traffic moving slowly, but the melodies of Paul Simon and Kenny Loggins kept us company.

I thought again about my little California fantasy, but quickly erased it when I remembered I could never take the kids from Texas. As much as I still had ill feelings towards Tod and probably always would, I could never take the girls from their father. It was as simple as that.

Harry hummed along to the radio, his thumb drumming on the steering wheel as we inched along.

“You’re quiet,” he finally said.

“Hmm, so are you.”

He gave me a grin, eyeing me from the side. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” I shifted in my seat.

“Um...you tell me and I’ll tell you?”

“Yeah, but you first.”

Harry picked at his bottom lip for a while before speaking again. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, I guess so,” I nodded.

“You were upset last night. But you seem...different now.”

“That’s not a question.”

“Are you...okay now?”

I turned my gaze to the passenger window. “I mean...I’m not upset.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Well…” I let out a breath, “you know I’m gonna miss you, Harry. This is my last day with you for a while, and I’m trying not to think about it.”

Harry lifted a finger and scratched the tip of his nose as he steered the wheel with his knee, his other hand never letting go of mine. I thought he was going to ask me something else, but instead he cleared his throat and nodded. Traffic picked up for a few feet, but stalled again. I watched him, waiting for him to speak.

“I had a feeling something else was wrong,” he finally said.

“What?”

“I um…” he gave a short, nervous laugh. “I kept thinking maybe I’d gone about this all wrong, that if I just showed you last night how much I wanted you then everything would be okay.”

I pondered his words, trying to understand what he meant. “Are you referring to the sex?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he half breathed through his nose before he scratched it again.

I shifted in my seat again to where I was pretty much facing him. I frowned at him, my silence urging him to explain further.

“Baby, don’t misunderstand, please,” he squeezed my hand. “I do want you, and it’s not just about the sex. I just...was kinda worried.”

“About what?”

“About...losing you.”

I bit my lip, moisture threatening my eyes, so I turned back in my seat again and gazed out the window. I was worried too, but for different reasons than he thought.

“Your turn,” I heard him say.

“Hmm?”

“Tell me what you’re thinking, love.”

I looked down at my lap and felt a lone tear slip out of my eye so I quickly wiped it away. Traffic picked up again, so I hoped Harry couldn’t see me starting to lose it. I swallowed hard and tried my best to gather my thoughts.

“Baby?” he sounded.

“Why were you afraid of losing me, Harry?” I asked quickly.

“Well, because…” he hesitated, “because of our argument in the pool. And because even after I apologized, you seemed a little...distant.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“No, don’t be sorry. I just...I need to know what’s going on. I feel like we have this amazing connection and chemistry, but we don’t talk enough. Like really talk, Stacey. You know?”

I nodded, slipping my hand from his grip.

“No, baby, don’t…” he begged, reaching for my hand, but I’d already placed it in my lap. Then he cursed as he put on his turn signal. “Shit, that’s my exit.”

I rode in silence as Harry turned off the freeway. I could read the disappointment on his face which broke my heart. It seemed I was always pretty good at making people have that face. I recognized it and remembered seeing it on his face in one of my nightmares.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” I said again. “You’re right. But let’s talk later okay? I’m still excited for this surprise. Let’s not spoil the mood.”

Stopping at a red light, Harry looked over at me with a sigh. I reached for his hand again and gave him a weak smile.

“Promise we’ll talk later?” he asked.

I nodded. “Promise.”

“Okay,” he said giving my hand another squeeze before letting it go. Coming to a stop again, he parked on the side of the road and turned off the engine.

“We’re here?” I asked with wide eyes.

A grin slowly spread across Harry’s face before he cupped my chin, leaned over and kissed me.

“We’re here,” he said, his voice low.

I opened my car door just as he did, stepping out onto the sidewalk. All I saw were what looked to be older buildings, apartments or perhaps businesses. Harry crossed the front of the car and stood next to me, his hand on my back, then pointed up at the building to my left. My jaw dropped as soon as I read the sign.

“Recognize it?” he whispered in my ear as he wound his arms around me.

I leaned against him as I gasped, unable to voice a sound, let alone a word or two. I could only stand in awe. This was a place that to anyone else was just a building, but to musicians and music fans like me, it was legendary. Sound City. Some of my idols had recorded there.

“Wow!” I was finally able to croak out of my throat.

I felt Harry’s chest shake with laughter and he kissed the top of my head. “C’mon,” he said, taking my hand.

I stared at him. “You mean we get to go inside?”

Harry laughed harder. “Of course, baby. You didn’t think standing out here was the surprise, did you?”

Tugging my hand, he managed to pull my feet from the concrete, and I followed him through the carport to the back parking lot. I recognized the door for the studio from both photos and Dave Grohl’s documentary. Butterflies instantly filled my tummy as I sucked in my lips.

It was a dark, narrow hallway but a man greeted us as soon as we stepped inside. He shook Harry’s hand, then mine before he guided us further down the hall. I didn’t even catch his name because I was so equally excited and nervous, but apparently, he’d known we were coming. That part was no surprise.

The man showed us to the large recording room where a drum set sat in the middle. I spun around, taking it all in, just thinking in my head Stevie Nicks was here. We then got a tour of the soundboard, which I knew from the documentary wasn’t the original Neve board - Dave had taken it to his own studio - but it was impressive nonetheless. After I oohed and ahhed over it for a bit, Harry taking a seat in one of the cushy chairs, the man excused himself, saying we were welcome to spend some time checking everything out in private.

“So what do you think?” Harry beamed at me when the door shut.

“Harry! Oh honey, this is like...a dream come true for me. You have no idea.”

Harry giggled, sliding his chair closer to me. “I think I have some idea.”

I playfully swatted at him. “Oh, of course you do.”

“Surprise,” he wiggled his brows and reached for me, pulling me onto his lap.

“I’ll say,” I murmured. “It was a good one.”

We kissed for a minute or two until I remembered where I was, like it had just hit me all over again.

“Stevie was here, Harry!” I exclaimed. “She was in that room right there and recorded the Buckingham Nicks album with Lindsey and then again with Fleetwood Mac!”

Harry chuckled, amused at my enthusiasm.

“Pat Benatar recorded here,” I continued. “And Tom Petty. And Rick Springfield and fucking Nirvana!”

“I know!” Harry laughed.

“I love you,” I declared in haste, the moment getting to me.

“I love you, too,” he grinned. “Now, let’s go in here a minute.”

Climbing off his lap, I followed Harry back into the other room with the drums. He walked up to a row of guitars that were against the wall, picking up a pretty acoustic one. Then I saw him pull a guitar pick out of his pocket and strum a few chords. I watched in glee as he played the intro to one of his songs. I thought he might start singing, but instead he stopped, tilted his head, and began to play a different song I recognized. I smiled at the introduction to “Crying In The Night,” the Buckingham Nicks song we’d sung together over the phone many moons ago. Again, Harry stopped, walked over to where a microphone was set up and adjusted the stand. Then he beckoned me over.

“Stay right there,” he ordered before walking to the recording room.

Through the glass, I watched him press a few buttons on the sound board. Then he told me to speak into the mic. I did and he adjusted a few more knobs and buttons before giving me a thumbs up.

When he returned to stand next to me, he began to play the chords again and gestured to the microphone for me to sing. For only a split second I felt a ball of nerves, but soon I was singing the first lines.

She was that kind of lady, times were hard, woah She could come curling ‘round you like fingers

Harry smiled as he played the guitar, joining me on the chorus like Lindsey did Stevie. It felt so good. I wouldn’t be able to explain the feeling in words if someone forced me. It was just...magical. I knew I wasn’t the best singer, nor even came close to being as great as Stevie, but for a few minutes I felt like I was in my element - where I belonged. It was such a rush, and a dream come true.

And she’s looking around…

When the song was over, Harry grinned the sexiest grin ever before jogging back to the sound booth. Then he came back, laid down the guitar and pulled me into a tight embrace.

“That was so good, baby!” he cooed in my ear. “That felt great, did it feel great to you?”

“Yes,” was all I could say though I let out a loud fit of giggles.

“You’re so amazing,” he added. “Mmm, I love you so fucking much.”

He swung me around in his arms for a few moments before kissing me hard on the mouth. He didn’t let me go right away either, and for a second, I forgot where we were until I heard the clearing of a throat. Harry released me and turned around and I saw the man standing in the doorway. I blushed a bright pink.

“Oh hey, sorry, got carried away,” Harry explained, though I wasn’t sure if it was to the man or to me. Or both. The man waved him off though, like it was nothing.

“Looks like you had a good time.”

“Yes, again, thank you so much for letting us do this,” Harry said, shaking his hand.

“Anytime. Just let me know,” the man nodded.

I told him thanks as well and followed Harry out to the parking lot. The sun seemed brighter after being inside, and I leaned my head back and spread my arms, taking it all in. Then I took hold of Harry’s arm and hopped all the way to the car like a happy kid.

“I just sang where Stevie sang,” I danced as he opened the car door for me.

Harry chuckled. “I should have done this the first day you arrived. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you this happy. Even at the concert.”

“I was happy then,” I admitted. “But concerts make me emotional.”

“I noticed.”

Pressing me up against the car, Harry kissed me once again and I felt tingles down to my toes.

“Thank you for the surprise,” I murmured against his lips.

“You’re welcome,” he smirked before patting me on the butt and rounding the car to his side.

Once we were back on the freeway, Harry reached for my hand again and I gladly obliged. Adjusting my seat back, I got comfortable and let myself fantasize again, imagining that I was able to actually move to L.A., that Tod wouldn’t throw a fit over it, and Harry and I lived happily...ever...after…

“Baby…”

I felt a nudge on my shoulder and fluttered my eyelids open. Harry grinned at me, his hand on the steering wheel.

“We’re home,” he said softly.

“Home?” I blinked.

“Yeah. You fell asleep.”

“Oh,” I muttered, realizing I was still lying back on my seat, my seatbelt fastened. “Sorry.”

“No worries, love,” he cooed, pushing a curl from my face. “Did you want some lunch, or would you rather nap?”

“Nap?”

“In my bed of course,” he teased.

“Actually,” I groaned, sitting up, “a nap would be great. I don’t think I got much sleep last night.”

“I know, baby, I said I was sorry.”

“Shut up, Harry,” I quipped. “Never ever apologize for wanting me. Okay?”

Harry raised his eyebrows and puckered his lips. “Noted!”

“However, right now, sugar...I’m gonna use that bed for something else.”

Harry laughed as he opened the car door. “Also noted.”

We climbed the stairs together and when I reached his bedroom, I removed my jeans and bra and got into Harry’s wonderfully comfortable bed. He tucked me in, lying with me for a few minutes until my eyelids were too heavy to keep open.

“Sleep well my love,” he whispered.

I felt the bed shift as he stood, but I remembered nothing else after that until I awoke a couple hours later.

With a yawn and a stretch, I got up to use the bathroom. I felt a little revived though my stomach growled. It was nearly three in the afternoon, and I hadn’t eaten since that morning, and even then, I’d only nibbled at the waffles. Pulling my hair back in a ponytail, I slipped back into my jeans and made my way downstairs. I found Harry outside, sitting at the table, his phone to his ear. He smiled when he saw me, and I gestured toward to kitchen to let him know I was going to get something to eat. I was just placing a slice of turkey on the bread when I felt his arms slip around my waist.

“I would have made you something,” he offered.

“I don’t need much,” I said. “A sandwich is fine since we’re going out to dinner later.”

“Okay,” he nuzzled my neck. “How was your nap?”

“Blissful,” I replied.

“Good. I just took a quick one on the sofa.”

I turned and looked at him. “You could have come to bed, silly. This is your house.”

“I know, but you’re my guest and I wanted you to have a restful sleep.”

“I sleep just fine with you, you know,” I smirked.

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” he teased, making a point to eye his crotch. I snorted and poked him in the side.

“You’re awful, Harold.”

“That’s not what you said last night. Let me see...I believe it was ‘Oh sugah, you’re so fuckin’ gooood!’”

If I wasn’t so completely mad about him, and he hadn’t just given me the best surprise ever, I would have mocked him for being so cheeky. Instead, I just winked, licked my top lip seductively and turned back to my sandwich. With a gleeful laugh, Harry grabbed a bottle of juice from the fridge and sat at the table. Cutting my sandwich in half diagonally, like I always did for my kids, I took a water bottle from the refrigerator and joined him.

“So where are we going tonight?” I inquired, taking a bite of my sandwich.

“You’ll see,” Harry said.

I pouted. “You said dinner wasn’t part of the surprise.”

“It’s not, but I still kinda want you to be surprised.”

“Well, fine, but I just wanted to know if I should wear my red dress or my blue one.”

“The red dress from Christmas?” Harry raised a brow.

“No, it’s a different one. But it’s more casual, like a sundress. I have a blue one that’s a little fancier; a cocktail dress, kind of like the black one I wore Saturday.”

“Hmm…” Harry sounded, picking at his bottom lip. “I think I’d go with the blue.”

Swallowing my food, I took a sip of water. “You got it,” I grinned.

“Oh,” he said, “I should probably tell you...before you find out anyway. We got photographed today.”

“Seriously?”

Tapping on his phone, Harry selected something and turned it to face me. Sure enough, there was a photo of us on the sidewalk, arm in arm.

“I’ll be damned,” I muttered.

“There’s another one of us snogging by the car,” he scoffed.

“How did they know?”

Harry shrugged. “Maybe the studio tipped them off. Maybe they recognized my car and followed us. They have ways.”

I made a face and rested my chin in my hand.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I guess,” I answered. “Nothing I can do about it anyway, right?”

Harry nodded.

“I just wish they weren’t so secretive. It feels...invasive.”

“Exactly. That’s why I need to know you’re okay with it. Because that was just a small outing. We’ll be among a lot more people tonight.”

“Yeah…” I sighed.

Harry didn’t say anything else. I noticed him looking through his phone, but he let me finish my sandwich in silence. I didn’t really know what else to say either. When I got up and put my plate in the dishwasher, Harry told me to follow him into the music room. I sat down on the piano stool while he scrolled through his phone. Choosing something, he plugged it into a USB, then adjusted some knobs on the sound system. My eyes widened when I heard the familiar strumming followed by my voice. I put my hand over my mouth.

“Oh my God,” I screamed behind my hand, but Harry just grinned and put his finger to his lips to shush me.

I covered my eyes, suddenly embarrassed at hearing my own voice through the loudspeakers. I felt Harry’s hands on mine then, trying to pry them away from my face. When he’d managed to do it, he knelt in front of me, his face intense, yet expressionless. Then he began to sing his part low, a small curve at the corners of his mouth.

“Sing with me,” he said.

So I did, softly at first, then growing louder as he urged me on. By the end, I was singing to him, him to me, our fingers intertwined.

“I didn’t realize you’d actually recorded it,” I remarked.

“I had it sent to me after we left,” he nodded.

“I guess I actually sound pretty good.”

“Are you kidding?” he smirked.

“Well, I’m not a professional,” I sighed, picking at a frayed spot in my jeans. “That dream is-”

“Shh,” he sounded, pressing a finger to my lips.

I shook my head, pulling his arm down. “You know it’s true.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Harry, c’mon.” I gave a fake chuckle. “I’m not a spring chicken. That ship has sailed...long ago.”

Harry looked down at the floor and back at me. Then he pursed his lips and rose with a sigh. Pulling out the chair from the desk, he sat down in front of me.

“I was thinking now might be a good time to have that talk.”

My body instantly tensed up, and I bit my lip. “Um...yeah...okay.”

“I think…” Harry let out a long, deep sigh. “I think maybe there’s some things that aren’t being said.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean...I can tell something’s on your mind, Stacey. I’m not stupid.”

I furrowed my brows. “I know you’re not, Harry.”

“But I’m also not a mind-reader. You’ve got to tell me, baby. You need to talk to me; I’m losing my mind here.”

I swallowed. “I don’t meant to make you-”

“I know,” he interrupted. “It’s partly my fault too. I keep wanting everything to be perfect, and I know it’s not. I realize this is all still so new to you. We’re no longer in that little bubble we were once in, where it was just you and me.”

“That’s just it, Harry,” I commented. “It’s not just you and me.”

“I know,” he nodded. “People know about you now, know who you are. I know it was a big adjustment for me in the beginning of One Direction and the X Factor, but that was me living my dream. I wasn’t riding along someone else’s.”

I chewed the inside of my lip as I stared at him for a second. Though what he said was true, he was missing the whole point. That wasn’t what I’d meant. But instead of voicing that aloud, I simply nodded.

“So, talk to me,” he urged again. “I know I’d said I needed to know that you were okay with all of this, and that was unfair of me to expect a direct response. But I’d still like to know how you feel, what’s on your mind. Please?”

Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly.

“Harry, I…”

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK | PATREON

[totallyexhausted]

Masahiro feeling like complete crap the whole day, ignoring the scowls he’s getting from Kousuke during class and Kensuke’s worried glances. He snaps at his boyfriend when the older asks several times if he was okay/ sick; thankful when the bell rings and school ends as he trudged towards work.

After work, Masa feels so much worse. His boss took notice and sent the teenager home earlier than normal, using the fact that they were slow as an excuse when in retrospect he was just worried for the kid. The teenager reaches his apartment door as the storm overhead breaks loose, rain pelting against the pavement, and he sighs loudly as he opens the door, flicking the lights on as he hears his mother whisper his name through her half-open door. Masa makes it about three steps before someone slams him against the counter, their grip tight around his forearm, and the teenager blinks a few times as his vision came back into view, a burly-looking man looming over him. He tightens his grip around the teenager, maybe pressing his other arm against his neck as Masa’s mother screams behind them. She rips the man’s hands away from her son, shoving Masa away from them, explaining quickly that the teenager was her son!!! Not another client.

Masa coughing roughly as he regains his composure, clenching his fists as he steps forward, glaring at the man before his mother puts a hand to his chest, shoving him back. She laughs softly, apologizing that she brought work home while the man spits out a halfassed apology before shoving his hand in his pocket, opening his wallet and handing Masa some Yen. His mother claps her hands together as the teenager eyes the money, “Masa, honey, why don’t you step out for a while. Run down to the corner store and buy something to drink while I finish with my Client here.”

The teenager bites back a moan; all he wants to do is crash into his bed and sleep because he feels like shit and the room is spinning and getting assaulted the second he got home wasn’t something he was expecting. And now his mother wanted him to leave… Masa swallows harshly before snatching the money from the man and leaving the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Masa isn’t entirely sure where he’s walking until he arrives at the front door of the Ooshiba residence, cold, shivering, drenched from either sweat or the rain that had yet to let up as he walked across town. To make matters worse, his vision wasn’t steady nor were his feet. Nausea raising its ugly head as the headache he’d had the whole day turned into a full-blown migraine. He’s pretty sure there was no way in hell he could play this off because he’s sure he looked just as bad as he felt. And then his throat hurt, either from the coughing or from the phantom grasp he could still feel around it from the man at his apartment.

He stumbled, slamming against the door as he rang the bell. Part of him hoped Kousuke wouldn’t be there, while the other part yearned for him to be. He didn’t want his boyfriend to see him like this, to see him this weak, on the brink of tears, trembling like some pathetic loser with nowhere else to go… but after the day he’s had, having someone else care might be nice.

Masa isn’t aware how much he was leaning on the door until it opened and he fell forward, smacking against the floor in the too-bright corridor, and Kensuke’s face hung over him worriedly. He heard his friend yell before Kousuke’s voice echoed through the living area, and Masa closed his eyes. It was so fucking hot. He needed to get up, to at least thank Ken for opening the door and hope that they wouldn’t mind if the teenager just slept here tonight; hell, he’d take the floor if anything because it felt nice and cool against his skin.

Someone hoisted him up slightly, gentle fingers running through his hair and the scent of cigarette smoke filling his nostrils as he pryed an eye open to see a blurry version of his boyfriend peering down at him…

Basically I like the idea of Masa getting sick and powering through only to be kicked out of his house for the night and trekking it over to Kousuke’s. Kou and Ken’s mother not being there as she was helping her father with a few things, so Kou and Ken help take care of Masa as the teenager gets worse. Kou getting pissed when he sees the bruises on Masa from his mother’s client; Masa being his emotional self as he apologizes for them having to look after him.

I also like the idea that this goes another route, and while on break at work, Masa ends up falling asleep at an abandoned table. His boss makes the teenager call someone as he cuts the shift short, and Masa calls Kou, asking if he could come get him because his boss won’t let him leave until someone came to at least walk with the kid because he looks terrible. Kou showing up and walking in only to find Masa asleep at one of the tables, a half-empty cup of tea abandoned across from him. He makes his way over as the teenager’s boss goes, “You must be Kousuke!! Thank you for coming to get him. Damn kid doesn’t feel well and wanted to walk home alone. I didn’t feel right him doing that so I told him he could either call someone or wait until we closed up in a few hours. Tried to get him to eat something, but he fought me on just drinking some tea, so idk if he’s worse-off than he wants to admit or not. He fell asleep a few minutes after hanging up with you, so me and the others decided to leave him be. Stupid kid looks exhausted.”

Kousuke laughs softly as he thanks the man and takes a seat next to the teenager, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it as he studies his boyfriend. After a while, Masa begins to rouse, shooting up the second he sees Kou sitting next to him, blushing…

Yeah…

[asktheskinner]

The Queen in the Sewers

Melchiah walked through the sewer with a slow weariness, senses reaching out before a voice whispered into his mind. “Hold, Childe.” It made his nape bristle, his lips curling under his mask in a sneer. His golden irises pierced the darkness to see another looking from one of the several tunnels in the stinking labyrinth.

“Who?” He questioned, fists tensing in full readiness to spring his vambraces’ blades from their armoured holds. “Come out and identify yourself.” The fledgling demanded, provoking a soft chuckle. A seductress’ amusement as the being stepped out, a woman wrapped in layers of miscoloured – and damp dark – clothes, even her face was shrouded. “Now, what arrogant creature dares to encroach into my little kingdom in the dark?”

She questioned with a gesture outward to the sewers with a humour of dreariness. “Speak now, or I will tear your throat just to watch your dead blood add to the foulness that I am forced to walk!” In that command, the Sixthborn restrained himself. This is the woman that Lord Kain has warned me of, her foulness is not prominent as I expected from a haggard-bride. No matter.

“You must be Madame Sadunne,’ Melchiah breathed out, swallowing his pride before bowing by the waist in curt respect. “Please, forgive me and my intrusion. I am simply passing, but not without tribute proper for a Daughter of Vorador.”

“A Daughter of Vorador. Oh, you have a way with words, childe.” The vampiress allowed to humour, crossing her jewel-wrapped arms before striding closer. The pale lights of the witch-lanterns hanging reveal her more. Her eyes were like a feline, sharp and keen as a blade. The flesh around them was alabaster with a hint of starting rot-emerald. “You speak as if another sire. There are no vampires not of his bloodline, none but-’

In her circling musing, Sadunne let herself breathe and purred dangerously. “All but one. So, he finally learned. That explains your...taint.”

“My taint?” Melchiah questioned; he felt straight-backed and squared in the shoulder, an appearance of readiness. Meekness had no purpose, especially to a creature as dangerous as her. “Yes, your presence is not of my kindred. It is off. Strange in a way, vampiric but not as it should be. Hm.” Sadunne caught Melchiah’s chin with cloven claws. Her taloned tips caressed the face-wrapping and the leather mask underneath, eye-to-eye. The Rat-Queen was a tall creature, her figure hidden in her layers, and despite his weariness, Melchiah could taste the power under her reclusion.

“If I know that man as I do, I know where you go. Be warned, those zealots may be broken but are not as toothless as we hoped. Do not bring their ilk here, or you will suffer a fate that will educate you in the fallibilities of Immortality. Do you understand me, Childe?”

“Yes, madame.” Melchiah pushed out from his tight throat, and he felt the caress – both of her palm and vampiric presence – over him. “Good,” Sadunne said, offering her other palm in silent demand to her tribute.

Melchiah kept his eye contact with her as he pulled the large pouch from his belt and placed it respectfully into the older vampiress’ hand. The grasp tightening in the blood-bloated rat cadavers within.

“Tread well...I will be watching you.” She said, slowly stepping back into the swallowing darkness. “Always.”

As if you haven’t already, Rat Queen. Melchiah thought to himself before continuing his tread through the sewers as the witch-fires flared brighter to lead him in the right direction.

[mingjue]

these are old but the fact no one is crossposting Li Zefeng . . . . . .