#hope everyone else is on slender tumblr | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vernon-s-whore · 3 years ago

Text

Till Forever Falls Apart Pt.1

Kim Taehyung and Original Male!Character

part 1 2

WARNINGS: stalking, curse words, smut ig?, non-consensual photography, non-con elements, yandere behaviour, obsessive toxic stalker, contains boy x boy so if y'all homophobic then shoo!, gore, drug use/abuse

Summary: You can't expect a horror story to have a happy ending, can you?

word count: 5.5k+

a/n: Been a while since i posted on Tumblr phew- part 2 will be up as soon as i finish it. This is cross posted on my ao3 btw. i don't have a beta so feel free to nicely point out grammar mistakes, if any

All names apart from BTS are fictional.

Link to AO3

The thing about this whole ordeal was how mundanely it started out.

Leaving high school opened a new world to him, away from his home and family and everything familiar. And thrill ran on the tails of unfamiliarity like an incessant kid not wanting their idol to leave them in the dust. So, he went ahead and got himself some friends, some girlfriends, even a boyfriend or two all in the first year of uni. It was fun, his flings never lasted more than a month or two but that was okay, he liked it. Liked that there weren’t any set expectations from him and he could just… enjoy for the first time in his life.

By second semester, he had a set group of friends. Seven boys apart from himself and five girls. All of them were smart and witty and yes, he did end up on the wrong side of the bed with Soyeon and Jimin once but it was all fun and games. They were friends. Nothing more, and everyone in the group knew it.

Namjoon knew that he had issues with commitment and took care of the questions whenever someone tried to set him up for a blind date. His girlfriend Hyunji, who had taken an almost parental role in the group along with Namjoon did worry for their young friend, but didn’t say much since she seemed to understand that he will do things his own way. He did feel jealousy sometimes, looking at Namjoon and Hyunji, Hoseok and Soyeon who got together in Hoseok’s second year, with their daily routines of coffee and dates and working in silence like they were made to fit together like puzzle pieces.

The only time he ever came close to such intimacy was one night in bed with Jimin. They both had gotten drunk and somehow, he had ended up inside Jimin that night, and woken up beside him that morning and felt at peace for the first time in over seven months with his slender sunbae smiling beside him and asking if he slept well.

Jimin had roused him for breakfast and for once, he thought that yes, routine and familiarity could be a part of his life, but then Jimin got together with Jungkook a few weeks later, after months of the younger crushing on his hyung and any hopes he had of maybe getting attached to someone were dashed brutally.

He would’ve dealt with it most unhealthily, if not for Taehyung and Yoongi. Yoongi who had functioned as an outlet for him about his insecurities of ever creating fulfilling relationships and Yoongi’s words sit with him till this date.

The love you feel for people doesn’t always have to end with one in the other’s pants. You have fulfilling relationships. You have us.

He did have them. His seven boys and five girls who he would trust with his life. When Seokjin and Petra got together in the beginning of his second year, he was not really surprised. By that point he had assumed all of them would pair off with each other, leaving him alone at the end.

Seokjin and Petra, Hoseok and Soyeon, Namjoon and Hyunji, Jungkook and Jimin, and Yoongi who finally came out as ace and aro.

Which left sweet baby Taehyung who was just a few months older than him, alternating between babying him and acting like a responsible hyung around him. After his one-sided fling with Jimin, he felt the closest to Taehyung if no one else. The boy who was Jimin’s best friend helped him let go of whatever feelings he still harboured for the dance major with his snide jokes and incessant photos of his Yeontan and dragging him out of bed on weekends for outings and picnics and mall jaunts and whatnot, till they began falling into a rhythm.

Taehyung would initiate everything, and he would follow like a willing puppy, eager to please the boy but at the end unable to display his eagerness, most of it coming out as bored disinterest. Maybe if he had taken the initiative to ask Taehyung out once in a while, things would have gone differently. Maybe if he hadn’t been such a passive person all his life, he could’ve avoided the grotesque distortion of their friendship.

In their third year it so happened that Taehyung got asked out by one of the juniors.

Lee Eunso.

She was everything Taehyung could have wanted. Tall but not too tall, slim hips and long legs, tits that wouldn’t quit, straight brown hair and a face perfect enough to rival Taehyung’s himself. She was smart, and polite and confident in herself, which was appealing to Taehyung’s ideal type which he had talked about in their first year.

And while Taehyung was getting asked out and probably entering one of his real, serious relationships, he was watching on the side-lines and feeling that sense of abandonment again which, he had last felt with Jimin two years ago. The metaphorical wound in his chest throbbed again, the same way it had done when he saw Jimin kissing Jungkook in the cafeteria two years ago.

Over the next few weeks, unknowingly, he began distancing himself from Taehyung who spent more and more time with Eunso and less with the group. The others understood this, understood that one of their maknaes was branching out and developing his own social life and network out of their friend group. Soyeon and Hyunji would pester Taehyung for info on his girlfriend but he would just flash one of his adorable smiles and let go of the topic.

But he couldn’t look at Taehyung without hurting himself. From the wrist that Eunso would grip delicately to the cheeks she would kiss every morning in the hallway, he couldn’t bear looking at Taehyung anymore, withdrawing into a shell without knowing he was even doing it.

And since he wasn’t looking at Taehyung, was actively avoiding looking at his friend’s face, he didn’t notice that the moment Hyunji turned away from him, the smile dropped from Taehyung’s features, replaced by a carefully calculating blank look. And who else was he assessing but his lost best friend, who was going through his SNS but not really paying attention to it, thumb moving mechanically over the screen till Eunso arrived and sat beside Taehyung and kissed him hello, much to his chagrin.

That weekend, Eunso invited the whole of Taehyung’s group over to her fraternity house for a birthday bash. The friends went as a whole unit to the mansion-like place, grouped off in twos and threes till he was left standing and wondering where should he go. The solitude which had been an old friend now felt like a looming presence, branding him black and singling him out from the neon lights which glared everywhere.

A rich girl’s party, that’s all this was. A rich girl and her rich friends, and her rich friends’ rich boyfriends.

So, what am I doing here? He thought to himself before going to the kitchen and getting himself a beer, fear like a trapped bird thrashing against his ribcage.

It was an odd feeling, this fear. That something was about to change monumentally as electro pop thumped around him, beat heavy and echoing in his sternum till he felt he was walking in a psychedelic dream of smut and degradation, of people making out on the living room floor to a few snorting lines of coke in a washroom. The extremely rich kids who could afford the drugs.

With each cup of alcohol downed, the mansion seemed to grow alive, a sentient being growing out corridors and staircases and attics and basements only for him to discover, stumbling from one room to another to find one filled with the smoke from pot, another where a couple fucked against the wall, one which was blissfully empty.

But he had no idea how he got to this gorgeously empty and silent room- in a basement? In a second basement? How many floors under am i?- which was like a paradisical sanctuary from the headache blossoming at the base of his skull.

He stumbled forward at a slight nudge from behind him.

Alcohol was instrumental that night. Because that night, he didn’t drink to get drunk and have fun. That was the first night he drank to kill something. To kill the sorrow taking root in him like a poisonous weed. Prior to entering the room he’d only been drunk, good old sir alcohol warming his belly and lungs but doing nothing to warm his soul. But after entering the room, the weight of the past few months came crashing down now that all the walls he had carefully built between him and his emotions were dismantled brick by brick by a simple chemical compound.

The lights in the room were off. He could still hear the loud music, but it all felt distant, in another world. He should go back to his friends, really, but the silence and the darkness was so good and the bed. The bed in the room was so inviting.

He put one wobbly foot in front of another and walked into the dark room, not realising something was behind him. Someone was behind him. The someone walked into the dark room along with him, on footsteps that were quieter than a mouse’s and he didn’t realise in the dark of the room that he is not alone.

The plastic cup of alcohol in his hand was gone now, dropped to the floor, and rolled off somewhere on the bare tile as his body collided with the mattress and his face fell on soft pillows smelling like someone’s shampoo. He inhaled deeply, not caring whose smell it was, not knowing that there was a someone in the room with him, only wanting the headache to disappear.

He was too far gone to care as someone kneeled next to the bed, watching his prone form intently in the slight light entering from the windows. They reached out a hand and touched his hair softly, brushing away strands and wondering how many other people had done the same thing.

How many people had touched what was theirs and dirtied him? How many has slept beside him and thought he belonged to them?

Too many. That’s what.

Someone ran a thumb over his cheek before pressing their lips to the cheekbone. Warm. So warm.

And all mine. They smiled satisfyingly before tugging off their shoes and lying next to him, curving their body around him so they could feel all of him in his arms, drunk and passed out and completely unaware of the someone beside him who held him like glassware.

Fragile and precious. Someone thought that night in that room as their lips slid across his cheekbone and down his neck, leaving perfunctory bites and bruises, staining, marking, claiming.

The black shirt he was wearing was unbuttoned gently, so as to not wake him. He wouldn’t wake for another four hours, and in the light of the morning, he would look at his bruised body and wonder who he spent the night with. But it would all be a clean blank in his memory.

They trailed their fingers from his collarbone down to his chest, marking the smooth skin in the dark, hands marking a path down his body where soon lips would follow right after. He still slept soundly as they looked up and admired his sleeping face, highlighted by the moonlight, thrown into stark relief by shadows and ran their mouth along the thin line of hair that ran from his navel and down to the waistband of his pants. They stopped there.

It was enough for tonight.

They took out their phone, opening the camera and arranging him carefully, shirt open, smooth marked skin of torso up for display and straddled his hips, positioning themselves to take the pictures.

Blue and purple and red bruises blossoming on skin, rendered to life by a special someone and made immortal digitally, they went through the photos they clicked and chose a few, before getting off his lap and tugging on their shoes and exiting the room, leaving him sleeping behind.

___________

“Where did I put it..,” he muttered riffling through the racks of clothes looking for a certain black shirt.

“Hey man, it’s no problem if you don’t have it,” Hoseok replied, “I’ll ask Gguk or someone to lend it.”

“I think you should call them, cuz for some reason the fucker’s gone missing,” he answered back, frustrated at the loss of one of his favourite clothing items.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll show up in the laundry,” Hoseok clapped him on the shoulder and walked outside, dialling up Jungkook to lend him a black shirt for a dance performance since his own got torn during practice.

He sighed and sat down at his desk, hoping his roommates would finish their band practice quickly, because the drumming was developing into a pounding headache.

He was bunked in with two first years and was now regretting rejecting Taehyung’s order to move in with him. Taehyung had gotten his own apartment finally, raking in money from modelling gigs. With a face like that and a voice like his, he could have been accepted in any idol company, but he chose to pursue a degree in art and sculpture. He sighed. One of the younger boys must have taken his shirt by mistake. And one of his jeans. And a pair of shorts he loved sleeping in.

He got up from his desk and rolled onto his bed, weary to the bone, literature assignments pending but he couldn’t bring himself to write the 10k word short story their teacher had assigned them as their final project. He wanted to be a little experimental and write romance this time. But the thing was he had no idea what romance is like.

Smut? Sure. Murders? That’s cool. How two people fall in love? Oh, dear lord, someone save him.

A buzz in his pocket alerted him to a text.

Jungkook. Asking if he wants to go clubbing.

Who else? He texts.

Tae hyung, Jimin hyung and Hyunji noona. Rest are busy. Jungkook replies.

I’ll be there at 10.

He decided to take a nap and set an alarm for 9 p.m. That would be enough for a decent two-hour nap. Sighing and not bothering to shut off the lights in his room, he curled around his blanket and closed his eyes.

When he woke up, he felt overly warm. He should have undressed before sleeping, really. Now sweat ran down his spine and his clothes were soaked. The blanket was carefully tucked around him instead of tossed onto the floor as per usual.

He frowned. He didn’t remember doing it. He never tucks the blanket around him all the way like a cocoon, that’s only reserved for when he has a cold and Taehyung or Jungkook or Yoongi do it for him.

Maybe one of the dongsaengs did it. He shook his head and tossed the rest of the blanket away and noticed the table lamp. It was off.

He distinctly remembers leaving it on.

Leave it, maybe Jinsung came in. He thought to himself. Lee Jinsung was the most caring out of the three occupants of the shared apartment but even he didn’t barge into people’s rooms to tuck them in and turn off their lights. Nevertheless, he just shrugged it off, too groggy and in need of food to pay attention to the possible electricity bill that comes from leaving a damned lamp on.

He switched on some of the brighter lights in his room before leaving to wash his face in the bathroom. For a mild second a sense of being watched ran down his spine. But then it was gone and he went along his merry way, splashing water on his face and into his mouth, flushing out the taste and smell of sleep from himself.

An hour later he was slow dancing with Hyunji noona, who was recounting how Namjoon wants to go on a trip to Europe. He was making good money from the seminars and classes he was taking as a career guidance counsellor and they planned to leave on the trip just as soon as Hyunji’s graduation was wrapped up.

He liked listening to his noona talk about all the plans she was making with his hyung. It was a strange sort of comfort wishing what he wanted for himself on others. And under the cover of dark, he liked how she was trusting him with bits and pieces of their future, hopes and dreams conveyed in little words and smiles and squeeze of hands on his shoulders.

Later, he and Taehyung were reclined on one of the couches in the corner of the club, feet propped on the table in front of them which was cluttered with empty shot glasses. His head felt fuzzy but not that bad. He was nowhere near as drunk as he had been at Eunso’s frat house.

He felt someone’s hand on his thigh and looked up to see Taehyung grinning at him, “Yah! It’s been so long since just us hanging out!” He yelled over the thumping beats as their companions danced in front of them, Jimin teasing Jungkook by running away with Hyunji noona occasionally before his boyfriend would catch him.

He looked at Taehyung and couldn’t help but see Eunso’s face in the eye of his mind.

However, he yelled back, “Yeah man! Kinda missed you.”

“You better, you asshole!” Taehyung said before ruffling his hair in a hard brotherly way. He ignored the way his chest tightened at the contact with Taehyung’s hand, stifled the way a lump formed in his throat as Taehyung pulled away.

If only Eunso didn’t exist, then maybe, just maybe Taehyung could have been his. But she did exist and all these cravings for Taehyung were just cravings for love, not Taehyung himself.

He didn’t stop himself from relishing Taehyung’s grip on his thigh though, long beautiful hand resting casually on the black denim. He wanted to hold that hand but instead held a glass and poured alcohol down his throat.

_____________

“God this test was terrible,” he groaned, resting his head on his forearms as Soyeon rubbed circles on his back. Hoseok and Namjoon had graduated with flying colours and meanwhile the third years were giving their final exams. He was still left to submit the short story for literature but he was sure he was going to flunk it. Romance was just not his thing… and he didn’t have the means to redo the assignment again in two days.

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung asked, sitting across from him with a tray of food. He had wanted to visit Taehyung’s sculpture display, but he didn’t want to go there with a sullen face when his hyung was so happy with his work. “You didn’t come by this morning.” There was sadness in Tae’s voice.

His heart clenched painfully at seeing the hurt reflected in the older’s eyes and in that moment even Soyeon’s comforting hand could do nothing to lessen the pain in his chest and stomach.

“Sorry hyung,” he muttered, eyes downcast. “Scheduling conflict.”

“It’s okay you and I can go together in the evening,” Taehyung said, reaching over and patting his forearm gently. “Take a nap when you go home, you look like shit.”

He chuckled and nodded, “I will, hyung.”

_______________

“Hyung… this is amazing,” he breathed, looking at the display Taehyung had created with clay.

Two bodies, genderless, androgynous, intertwined with each other so you couldn’t see where one ended and the other began, twisted together in love, but if you looked closer, there were ropes on their wrists, tied to their abdomens, hooks digging into skin, crafted carefully from pieces upon pieces of clay, chains holding them close, forcing them close, melding them together till they were smelted into being one.

What he initially thought were their mouths agape in the act of pleasure now seemed to resemble gaping screams as their individuality was ripped from them.

“Hyung?” He looked at Taehyung who was staring ahead.

“Yes?” He kept looking ahead not meeting the younger’s eyes.

“Why did you make this?”

“It was my term project.”

“No I meant… why this?”

Taehyung thought for a moment, inhaling deeply before letting loose a slow breath, turning his face to the younger. His eyes were hard, glinting dangerously in the lighting of the exhibit.

“What is love according to you?” He questioned the younger, voice velvety smooth.

“L-Love?” He started, not expecting to be interrogated. Taehyung simply nodded, “You wrote a romance for your term project, what do you think is love?”

“Love… when people fit together like puzzle pieces...? When they are made for each other and complement each other…” he trailed off looking at the two humans twisted around each other rendered in clay, who fit like perfect puzzle pieces, literally crafted to fit each other.

He didn’t notice Taehyung’s fists clench, didn’t see the slow smile that crept onto his hyung’s face on hearing these words from his dongsaeng.

“Then this is love,” Taehyung answered, pointing ahead of himself at the screaming, hurting people. “See how they fit together?” The slight smirk on his face was unsettling as he admired his creation.

He could see what Taehyung meant. He really could. But this was not… love. Was it? This was not what love was. Love was Namjoon hyung bringing photos of turtles to show Hyunji noona. Love was Soyeon delivering lunch to Hobi hyung. Love was Jungkook and Jimin holding hands sneakily in the corridors.

Love was not this… was it?

He winced at the stutter in his voice, but he needed to say it. “This isn’t love, this looks like obsession.” He said, referring to the hooks and chains and ropes and pins holding the figures together.

“Love is obsession, aegi,” Taehyung said, chuckling darkly. He didn’t like how his hyung sounded in that moment, so he just blurted what came first to his mind.

“Well to be fair, I have no idea, I haven’t had a single proper love,” chuckling nervously he looked around, anywhere but at the tortured victims. “Love could be anything, I guess. Hell, there are different kinds of loves you know?” His voice was taking a slightly panicky tint. “Platonic and romantic and all that bullshit-“ he was rambling. He knew he was rambling, but something was unsettled in the pit of his stomach.

Something to do with Taehyung. The hurt in Taehyung’s eyes, the lead in his voice, the mania which underlined his words about love. Love is obsession, aegi.

“You are correct, there are many different loves,” taehyung smiled. And just like that, the dark frightening man was gone replaced by his bubbly hyung who was just showing him an unsettling piece of art. “Do you need help with your story? I heard you complaining to Soyeon the other day.”

His heart unravelled in relief as Taehyung’s voice softened and he sighed.

“Yeah… I actually have no idea what to write and I think I wrote something very cliched,” he admitted, partially ashamed.

“Well let’s fix it then, come on,” Taehyung clapped him on the shoulder and turned away from the exhibit, walking away. Giving one last look to the sculpture, he followed right after his hyung, heart still uneven from the weird tone that Taehyung had used.

They sat till late that night on his bed, Taehyung going over his story and making suggestions. Cliches were fine but language could be improved on. He added phrases and cut over explanation. He realised however, that with Taehyung’s additions the story was starting to take a much darker undertone. What had started out as a simple college romance/coming of age story was now morphing into a psychological analysis of love and stalking punctuated with moments of gruesome violence and desperation.

By the time they were done, it was three in the morning and he was ready to crash, mind overflowing with words and paragraphs.

“Stay the night hyung,” he mumbled sleepily, as Taehyung went over the final draft once again.

“I will,” Taehyung nodded, scrolling through the words upon words. Taehyung glanced at the younger one who had a tired smile on his lips, eyes nearly closed. Taehyung waited and watched as he fell asleep, head lolling against the headboard.

He removed the younger’s outer clothes and tucked him into the blankets before slipping out of his own shirt and getting under the blankets too, sleeping peacefully with his dongsaeng’s warmth barely six inches away.

________________

Three weeks later, he knew someone had been in his room. Not one of the dongsaengs, because Jinsung and Dagam were gone on a trip with friends to celebrate the term end.

Nothing was out of place in the apartment, but he just knew someone had been there. The door was partially ajar when he came in and he remembered closing it properly after him before leaving for school. So, who was the creep who entered his home?

He found a vague answer on his desk.

A sticky note attached to his laptop.

Welcome home, love.

“Maybe it’s one of the hyungs’ pranks,” he thought to himself, studying the note carefully. It didn’t match anyone’s handwriting as far as he could remember though. He felt unsettled knowing his privacy had been invaded so easily when he was gone.

Someone had placed it there between 9 a.m. and 3 p.m. when he was at school.

The question was who?

__________________________

Three days later Dagam returned from the trip without Jinsung and he was sure something had gone wrong before the younger even opened his mouth to say anything.

“Wha-“

“Jinsung is dead,” he whispered. “Someone killed him.”

For a full whole minute he didn’t understand what Dagam was saying. Jinsung is dead. What? Jinsung. Dead. Hyung? He’s dead-

He caught Dagam before the younger collapsed onto the floor sobbing heavily and clutching at his sweatshirt crying, “ Hyung he’s gone and th-they think it was an ac-accident,” Dagam sniffled.

He had never seen his junior show such emotion so he wasn’t sure what to do except let Dagam cry into his shoulder, half screams half sobs falling from his mouth.

“What do you mean? Someone killed him?” He whispered to Dagam once the younger quietened a little, breathing punctuated only by an occasional sniffle.

Dagam nodded against his chest, seeming smaller than his actual 6 ft height, curled up in a messy ball of grief.

“I saw someone go in-into his room,” Dagam whispered, as if the walls had ears.

Maybe they did.

“Someone went in his room b-but the cameras… the cameras hyung!"

"What? The cameras what, Dagam?!" He shook the younger by his shoulders, gripping them tightly to ground the panicking boy.

"The cameras were blank, hyung," he finished softly." Entire folders cleared. No one saw Jinsung's killer."

His eyes widened as Dagam's explanation came to a halt. Jinsung dead. The note on his desk.

Someone in his home. Someone killed his dongsaeng.

But why would someone target Jinsung?! He kept racking his brains till Dagam's subsequent bout of sobbing stopped and he passed out in his arms on the living room floor.

They held a memorial service for him. Jinsung. Only his mother came. She fainted halfway through the ceremony. Most of the art and sculpture department was there to offer condolences. Jinsung's father was a no-show. His younger brother of twelve did the religious rituals for his hyung. The boy looked paler than milk as he finished the funeral rights and subsequently was found throwing up in the men's washroom crying for his older brother.

That night another note was taped to his bedroom door.

I love you, I did it for you. I'm sorry.

So his suspicions were confirmed. His stalker was the killer. He decided to go to the police but hail the police force of South Korea, they refused to investigate.

The case of Jinsung being killed was a closed case and out of the jurisdiction of the local police. The mountains where Jinsung and Dagam had gone with his friends were a different prefecture all together.

Besides, he had no hard evidence apart from a sticky note and even that didn't explicitly state what was it that the stalker had done. Since no physical harm had been caused to the one being stalked they couldn't take any action yet, especially since they had no lead on who might be the stalker.

He double checked all doors and windows before sleeping including Dagam's and changed the pass code on his door.

Sleep didn't come that night, though.

___________________

Three days later, he received another note, this one on his window. His fucking window. The damned apartment was seven floors up so how?!

Thankfully, the note was on the outside which gave him some sense of safety that the stalker/killer hadn't entered his house again.

I will have to do it again, I'm sorry. You can stop me though, if you want to. Remember, I love you so much.

The pale yellow sticky note went up in flames as he flicked his lighter open and burned the damn thing to ash.

He approached Dagam, who was reclined on the couch playing games.

"Dagam you need to move out," he said, trying to keep his voice gentle. "As soon as possible. You need to get out."

Dagam looked up, flustered, eyes rimmed red from too much screen time and also from crying day and night. "Hyu-"

"You have to leave. You can't stay here anymore," he said, pulling the younger one to his feet. "If you don't want to end up like Jinsung, do as I say."

"Hyung what are you-"

"You need to get out by tomorrow morning. No arguments. Ask Namjoon hyung to get you a dorm on campus and do not roam around alone, especially not at night."

Dagam looked like he wanted to argue but they didn't have time for it so he stopped barking orders at the younger and gave him a one-line explanation.

"I think the person who killed Jinsung is the same one who has been stalking me," his throat caught on the word 'stalking'.

But at least, on hearing this, Dagam understood why he was being thrown out. By that night, his packing was finished and a motel room had been arranged till he could find a dorm.

Two days later, Dagam moved in with three other first years of his major. Hopefully this would be enough to keep him safe.

He received a note that night, on his dining table.

Good job, love. You saved him. I have a gift for you.

And next to the notes a discreet grey square box. He eyed it apprehensively, the silence of the empty apartment weighing on him too much. He felt like someone was watching him, keeping an eye on his reaction. So he schooled his features into a mask and opened the box.

Inside was a single photo of him, bruised and half naked, passed out on a bed taken from an angle that showed every single detail of his torso.

The scary thing about it was how closely the photo had been clicked. It wasn't some wide angle lens kinda shit, it was a plain old photo from a plain old mobile phone and his stalker had been close enough to click this picture.

Jinsung's killer had been inches away from him while he had been unconscious at that damn frat party.

He tore the photo into pieces before dropping them back into the grey box.

The stalker had been inside his house again. For fuck's sake-

He went to check the security cameras and after much pleading, got access to the one near the elevator. The stairs and elevator had a blind spot but right around the end of the video which was timestamped 2 p.m. today, he saw a flicker of black at the edge of the screen. The tip of a shoe and a leg before those too disappeared from sight.

He changed the passcode again and checked every single window in all three rooms, before locking the two rooms shut with the master key and then heading to his own bedroom. But nothing would remove the sense of being watched.

He could tell his friends. Jungkook and Jimin and Taehyung and Yoongi and the Noonas and Soyeon… they could all help. Maybe even Eunso could help.

"I'll tell them tomorrow," he said out loud, as if saying it out loud will make it concrete. "I'll tell them tomorrow and everything will be fine."

With that resolution, he crawled under his covers and tried to sleep. But he still felt like someone was in the room. There was no way he would be able to sleep with the lights off. So he turned on the light and froze in horror as his eyes shifted to the window.

His stalker stood in the balcony holding a camera.

#bts #bts taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung x male reader #yandere taehyung #bts angst #i guess?#not really sure how to tag #how do i tag again #bts v x reader #stalker taehyung

185 notes · View notes

sleeplessgaywriter · 3 years ago

Text

Gosh, it's been a while since I wrote something...but college is killing me and my job is practically sucking up my soul...

Anyway...as I was browsing Tumblr, I noticed the lack of activity in Poppy related things, so I just had to do something...

With nothing else to say, here's a little something 🤗

(Again, I'm sleep deprived and tired...my already sucking skills of naming things are beyond hope at this point...so it is yet another nameless fic)

Pairing: Poppy x MC (Sam/Samantha)

At first, looking at Poppy and watching her every move was a means to find a weakness to use against her.

Sam had always been observant, a trait that she acquired from her days of working at the farm. As with animals, people's body language was very telling about their personalities.

Poppy was no different.

Or so she thought.

Sam believed that Poppy was like everyone else, and her expressions were just easy to read.

But as time went on, Sam found out how wrong she was.

The girl was like the sea. On the surface, the waves would seem dangerous or calm, yet beneath the surface was a mystery for all afraid to take a dive.

Sam always did like to unravel a mystery, and her attention soon focused solely on one person. Poppy's real thoughts were somewhat hard to guess, but it made for an interesting discovery. And Sam soon began to learn Poppy's body language.

The quirk of an eyebrow with an upward twist of her lips and the chin held high - confident on the outside, daring you to challenge her on the inside.

A soft exhale with shoulders dropping somewhat and her arms crossed- pensive on the outside, utterly bored on the inside.

As time went on, observing Poppy became more of a fixation. Her interest in learning a weakness was no more. Instead was found enthralled by the one Poppy Min Sinclair.

Before she could stop it, Sam had already fallen in love, and from her observing she could tell it was going to be hard going down that path.

Because Poppy wasn't indifferent to her. Sam would even say that Poppy liked her, but she knew, the Min Sinclair heiress would do everything to deny her feelings.

But Sam was nothing if not committed.

It took as long as she previously assessed. The fights took place as well, and thousands of tears were spilled in between.

But finally, Poppy let down her final wall around her heart, and Sam could not have been happier.

Their relationship was finally official, and Sam was proud to walk hand on hand with Poppy.

She felt the luckiest girl in the world, and she never failed to mention it to her girlfriend.

"You're such a dork." Poppy would always say rolling her eyes without malice, and then peck her lips.

Yep. The luckiest.

Yet, her observing never stopped. On the contrary, now she could observe sides she was never given the chance before.

Such small details that made Poppy, well, Poppy.

Now was just another example of it.

It was movie night. A time to bond with both their friends, and try to not murder each other.

They were on her and Zoey's suite, waiting for the rest of their friends to show up.

Sam had just finished with the popcorn and handed over Poppy's personal bowl - because from previous observation, Sam knew Poppy hated when other people touched her food - and she sat next to her girlfriend.

Poppy was lazily scrolling down her phone, the recently made bowl of popcorn placed on her lap.

Instead of taking out her phone as well, Sam observed her girlfriend, one of her favorite activities.

One slender and delicate hand reached down to the bowl, and took just one popcorn, taking it to Poppy's mouth.

A minute passed and the action was repeated, with only one popcorn being taken.

Sam's eyebrows rose on her face. She had never seen anyone eat popcorn like that. Everyone always just grabbed a bunch of popcorn and pushed it into their mouths, making a mess in the process. Sam was no exception on doing that.

Looking at the fifth sole popcorn reaching Poppy's mouth, a breathy chuckle left her lips.

Eating popcorn one by one...it was just so Poppy.

"What?" The blonde asked while looking at her girlfriend in confusion, head tilted slightly to the side.

"Gosh...I love you."

She thought, but then Poppy's eyes widened and her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink.

"Did...did I say that out loud?" Sam mumbled with her own eyes widened in panic.

Poppy narrowed her eyes, "You did."

"I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean-" she saw the way Poppy's jaw set, and she knew she was being misunderstood. "I did meant it! I love you...I just didn't mean to say it out." Her panic made it impossible to read Poppy's expression and it just made her panic further. "I know you're probably not there yet, and you don't have to say it back. We can just forget I said anyht-"

Her sentence was not finished, or better say, she was cut off by a pair of soft lips upon her own.

Instantly, Sam melted and reciprocated the kiss.

Soon, her panic dissipated and her mind was just filled with Poppy and how much she loved her.

"You're such an idiot." Poppy mumbled against her lips when pulling away.

"I-" she didnt know what to say, and thankfully she didn't have to.

"I love you too."

I ate popcorn today and someone pointed out the way I eat it...yes, it made me write this Xd

I'm sorry if this fic isn't as satisfactory as other fics, and I'm sorry if you find way too many grammar errors, I'm just so tired and I didn't check twice before posting 😣

Anyway, I'm gonna try and catch up on some sleep.

Hope you liked this little piece 💖

#poppy x mc #choices #poppy min sinclair #queen poppy #queen b poppy #i simp for poppy #queen b #queen b mc

46 notes · View notes

shealwaysreads · 3 years ago

Text

Revelation

drarry | E | 1.4k | kinktober, uniform kink, strip tease, leather gloves, lots of buttons, a whisper of boot worship, auror!Harry, unspeakable!Draco

Summary: Harry gets caught watching.

Read on Ao3

“What are you looking at?” Malfoy asked, cut-glass accent perfectly disdainful.

“Nothing.”

Malfoy’s lip twitched, almost a sneer, almost. “You’re watching me, Potter.”

“I’m not.”

He was. Harry had been watching him since they were both eleven, but that wasn’t what Malfoy meant. No. Harry was watching him now and he wasn’t even being subtle about it.

It was only the two of them in the changing room that the trainee Aurors and Unspeakables all shared, everyone else had left the building ages ago. It was late. Later than either of them should be here; later than they would be if they weren’t both working more than they should, if they weren’t both trying to prove themselves.

Harry had been in the duelling room, sparring with the automatons. Malfoy had been doing who-knew-what in who-knew-where. But they had both ended up here—in the sweat-scented changing rooms lined with lockers on both sides of the room. Harry was sitting on the uncomfortable wooden bench in the middle and Malfoy stood—defensive and as likely to admit it as a snake—against his locker.

Harry hadn’t meant to look, at first. It’s just that he was tired, bone-tired, and Malfoy was a curiosity now. Proven not-dangerous and maybe-decent by his wartime spying on behalf of the Order, but still sharp and unknown. Not-dangerous was an overstatement, perhaps. Malfoy had shown himself to be just as lethal as Voldemort had hoped for, only it was by hamstringing Fenrir in the middle of the battle rather than by felling Dumbledore during their sixth year.

The Unspeakables only took on talented witches and wizards with rare minds and a proclivity for deep thought and ambitious magic. But Harry wasn’t thinking about Malfoy’s mind. He was thinking about the fact that he had never seen Malfoy in less than perfectly neat clothes. Even in the midst of Fiendfyre and battle, Malfoy’s shirt had been buttoned up to the top, long sleeves covering his arms.

Unspeakable uniforms were even worse. They didn’t wear loose robes—like the Aurors, their uniforms had been streamlined after ‘incidents’ involving overly long sleeves and too much fabric—but tightly tailored black with so many buttons Harry couldn’t count them. Malfoy was covered from his neck to his toes; he even wore gloves, leather gloves.

Harry had started looking because Draco took his gloves off like it was some kind of personal ritual. He used the thumb and forefinger of his right hand to pinch the tip of each finger on the glove covering his left hand, until it was loose enough for him to slide off. The revelation of his hand—pale skin, slender fingers, perfectly manicured nails—had caught Harry’s attention. Then Malfoy did the same thing to his other hand.

It was like a present being unwrapped. Only the present was Malfoy.

That’s when Malfoy had opened his mouth and Harry thought that would be the end of it. Malfoy obviously knew Harry had been watching, and Harry’s denial had been more about keeping to form than any real protestation. Malfoy would pick up his gloves, snort derisively in Harry’s direction, and then bugger off home—wherever that was, these days.

Only Malfoy didn’t do any of that. He threw his gloves down on the bench next to Harry and with that quirk of his lip that said you are so far beneath me he brought his hands—his uncovered, unclothed hands—to the button glinting just under his chin. It slipped out of its hole. His fingers moved down to the next. Nimble and quick. The buttons were smaller than a knut, black and shiny, and Malfoy had only undone two of about a hundred but Harry’s chest felt like he’d just run up three flights of stairs.

Malfoy showed no signs of stopping.

The hollow of Malfoy’s throat, framed by the black collar of his uniform, was as startlingly pale as his hands. But more than that. This was the first time Harry had so much as seen this part of Malfoy.

Harry’s pulse thudded in his ears. He was just sitting, watching, but it felt like he’d just discovered something.

By the time Malfoy’s nipples—light pink, like the bit of the inside of his lip that Harry could see when he spoke—were revealed, Harry was hard. He didn’t bother trying to hide it. Malfoy had slowed down, made a show of each button sliding from it’s fastening, each inch of skin revealed.

Harry thought it might be the stark contrast of Malfoy’s black uniform against his fair skin that made Harry’s brain slow and slide like molasses. Or maybe it was the unexpected trail of dark blond hair that started on his sternum and trailed down, and down. Or maybe it was the silvery trace of scars on his skin. Or maybe it was Malfoy’s grey eyes, watching Harry as he watched Malfoy. A twin observation.

“Do you like to watch, Potter? Like to see, but not touch?”

“I—” Harry swallowed. He didn’t know the answer. He’d never done anything like this before. Never tangled himself, even accidentally, with someone as complicated as Malfoy. Malfoy who could make getting changed after work into something like a dance, something like a minefield.

“Of course.” Malfoy’s voice had dropped into something lower, softer. “You want to touch yourself. Go on then, do it.”

Harry stared. Malfoy unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves, and then there were pale wrists on show. Harry could see the tracery of blue veins there, and wondered if Malfoy’s pulse was racing as fast as his own.

“Come on, Potter, I’m showing you mine.”

Harry moved almost without thinking—he certainly didn’t pause to wonder what would happen if someone walked in—he undid his jeans and pulled himself out. But Malfoy interrupted him before he could do anything more than that.

“Wait a minute, I need your help.” Malfoy stepped forward, the top of his uniform unbuttoned all the way—the shirt hanging open and his navel level with Harry’s eyes—and placed the tip of his foot on the bench between Harry’s spread thighs. “Undo my boot for me, Potter.”

He was serious. Malfoy watched, waiting as though he had reserves of patience where Harry was concerned (contrary to all prior evidence). Harry looked down at where the shiny black leather of Draco’s boot sat, right in front of his own cock, still hard and standing proud of his open jeans.

Malfoy’s boots were laced halfway up his calf, and the knot was tight, but the leather was warm under Harry’s fingers and Malfoy’s skin was responsible for the warmth. Harry undid the laces quickly, and held onto the heel of the boot as Malfoy pulled his foot out, then set it on the bench beside him and pulled Malfoy’s sock off too. Malfoy’s bare foot was as pale and elegant as his hands, Harry wondered if he liked having his feet rubbed, and what it would feel like if Malfoy pressed the ball of his foot against Harry’s erection. Malfoy brought him back to reality—even better than his imagination, for once—by placing his other boot in the same position, and patiently waited once again for Harry to do his bit.

“Only seems right for you to help me, before you help yourself,” Malfoy murmured, his eyes on Harry’s cock.

Harry didn’t know what to say, so he stayed quiet—it had worked for him so far, and it worked again. Malfoy almost smiled, and his hands went to the waist of his trousers; there were buttons there, too. Swiftly undone, they revealed more of that dark blond hair—curling and neat—and then Malfoy’s cock. He was hard. Maybe he liked being watched as much as Harry liked watching.

Malfoy nudged Harry’s thigh with the toe of his boot, dangerously close to his balls. “Come on, take it off.”

Once again, Harry pulled off Malfoy’s boot, and then his sock. Malfoy put his foot back on the ground, widened his stance, and then stepped forward even closer—till his open trousers were almost close enough to touch Harry’s face.

“Actually, I think you should properly help me. Seeing as I’ve so kindly let you watch the show.”

Harry looked up, and Malfoy’s eyes were dark, his lips slightly parted. He was serious.

“Are you sure?” Harry asked.

“Do it, Potter.”

Read on Ao3

October 2nd & 3rd from this prompt list 🖤

Read the series here on Tumblr or here on Ao3

#drarry #drarry fanfic #drarry fic #drarry squad #drarry fanfiction #things to read #kinktober2021 #revelations #my writing #mine #hp #a sharp twist series

141 notes · View notes

syndxlla · 3 years ago

Text

Part eleven of the More To Love series

Summary: You get a chance to reflect on who you are, where you are with your relationships, and what you really want in life with the help of your mother, the Queen of Corellia. You meet some new seemingly friends, who quickly prove you otherwise.

Word Count: 7.1k, NO USE OF ‘y/n’

Warnings: Non-consensual kiss, swearing, alcohol

Author’s note: i am LIVID. why tumblr only lets you have a certain amount of paragraphs in a post IDK! it’s dumb haha and the only reason i went over is because there is so much dialogue in this. BASICALLY. I am making the decision to go easy on myself. I know earlier today I said part 11 would be split into two, but i am going to just make the second half be part 12. SO. i made a new moodboard for this chapter! i hope you like it :).

i wanna say a big THANK YOU to @stinky-child for helping me edit this chapter and getting it out on time!

PART 12 WILL BE RELEASED THURSDAY, MAY 27TH AT 6pm PST, 9pm EST.

part ten

Koska escorted you back to your quarters, the castle corridors were finally starting to calm down a little bit, however, more and more special guests who would be staying in the palace over the weekend walked in and out of doors, most of them not paying any attention to you because of your drab attire. You hoped the knight made it to his meeting on time and dry. There was no way to know until tomorrow morning, however. Koska was silent as she walked behind you, her footsteps much lighter than the knight’s. Your hair was thick and frizzy from the effects of the elements, and you kept your face down out of a foreign sense of shame.

Keeping your face down can’t hide that sense of shame from everyone, however, and before you can make it to your room, you’re hearing a joyful gasp and footsteps pattering in your direction. You look up from your walk of shame to see someone very important to you, it’s not your Knight, it’s not even Soniee, no. It’s your mother, the Queen of Corellia. She’s accompanied by three Corellian guards and she’s wearing the most beautiful yellow gown you had ever seen. It was clearly a gift from Bo-Katan. You smiled brightly, relieved to see someone you love. It had only been a few weeks but it felt like an eternity. You had completely forgotten she would be coming to your engagement ball. You’ve been so preoccupied with the plans and teaching the Knight how to dance that it completely slipped your mind. Your mother had a wide smile on her face, too, and wore the traditional Corellian crown. You ran to her and embraced her fighting around the waist, something that was not appropriate for royalty in public like this but you couldn’t care less. You had been so emotionally confused over the last few weeks that there was nothing you needed more than a fulfilling hug from your parent. She hums with joy when you come into her arms, and she runs her slender fingers through your beautiful hair. You sigh of relief in her embrace.

“I had forgotten you were coming.” You admit, holding back tears of relief. She chuckles in response.

“You look a mess.” She replies and you’re the one to chuckle this time.

“I’ve had quite the day.” You smile, blushing as you remember who you spent it with. “Come, I have so much to tell you.” You pull away, holding her hands in yours and then leading her to the closest sitting room. You were finally starting to understand the layout of the Mandalorian palace, it only took two weeks. This room was the same blue as the royal color, you guide her to sit by you on the sofa, and Koska awkwardly follows. You look over to the handmaiden before standing and walking in her direction. “Lady Reeves, you are dismissed.” You nod while speaking in a regal tone, but after stating it, your voice hushes and you whisper to her, “Is he going to be alright?” You ask in reference to the Knight.

She nods once, “Even if he was late, he’s bound to duty by the Queen, he’ll be okay.” Your stomach twists.

“What does that even mean?” You ask, there is much he is not telling you.

Koska sighs, she seemed to regret saying that. “I’ll worry about him, you enjoy your time with your mother.” She nods to the Queen who was patiently awaiting your return. You smile a “thank you” and walk back to the Corellian Queen. When Koska closes the door finally, you slouch into the couch, feeling pure relief as you were alone with your kin.

“You look absolutely exhausted.” Your mother says.

“I am, life here is exhausting. There are so many rules, much more than back at home.” You awkwardly shrug.

“We miss you.”

“I miss you too, more than you know.” You were so homesick these days. “I had to spend four days learning all the rules and customs and I still take private lessons from the literal queen so I don’t embarrass her anymore.” You roll your eyes, knowing that you couldn’t express this arrogance to anyone else in the palace and taking advantage of the chance now.

“Oh, I'm sorry love, I worried that there might be a bit of a culture shock.” She takes your hand with hers, stroking the stop of it with her own cold hands.

“Is father here?” You ask, your eyes hopeful. That glimmer immediately fades when she sighs, her eyes leaving yours. “What? What’s wrong?”

“He’s not coming…”

“What? Why?”

“He’s… sick, I didn’t want to tell you but it’s your right to know. You would have eventually found out anyway.” She somberly explains.

“Is he okay?”

“Yes, we think so. But traveling and socializing in his condition was not realistic. We understand that rumors will start, but his health is necessary before an impending war.” She frowns, and you try not to let it upset you too much. “Enough of that, tell me about this place.” Her tone immediately flips.

You smile, “It’s so hot, much hotter than Corellia. I mean the heat is exhausting and the dresses are heavy and the tea parties are always outside and I always feel overheated.” You complain.

“Do you at least like the prince?” She asks. “Is he cute?”

Now you must choose if you’re going to lie, like you have for the last fortnight, or be truthful with the only person you feel that you can be. You sigh, and just look at her, defeated, hoping that would be enough to tell her.

She hums empathetically. “Oh dear.”

“Yeah…” You sigh, happy she understood and you didn’t have to make the decision of communication.

“Well, keep your head up, I didn’t really like your father all that much until we had you.” She chuckles.

“What?” You ask, your eyes showing surprise. “I had no idea…” You weren’t sure how much you liked that thought, your parents had always been an example of a couple you’d like to experience for yourself. “Why had you never told me?”

“There was no reason for you to know before now. The older you get, the more you’ll learn what you need to hear.” She explains. You supposed she was right. “And remember, it’s supposed to be a partnership—marriage that is— it’s not so bad if you work at it.”

“Well, he certainly likes being solo.” You humph. “He’s very kind, and it’s clear he cares for his kingdom but-“ You knew you weren’t being completely truthful with her.

“But what?”

You debated your next words. You wanted to tell her, more than anything you wanted your mother to know what was really going on, but you knew you couldn’t. You knew she wouldn’t understand. This marriage is a diplomatic solution to an oncoming war of her home kingdom. She wouldn’t understand the strife. “Nothing.” You feel untruthful to yourself, but you can’t do anything about it. “I just feel like I will be unhappy in our marriage.”

“Marriage isn’t supposed to make you happy.”

You hated that, it wasn’t the first time she had said it to you, either. When an arranged marriage was first brought up, she said it then for the first time. The other time she said it to you was about three weeks ago, just before you were going to leave Corellia and come to this ornate prison. It was your last attempt to try and get out of it, but she uttered those words and you had to live with it.

This time, you pulled your hand away from hers. “But what about love? I thought you loved my father!?”

“I do love him, but that didn’t happen for a long time, like I said, not until you were born.”

“So then what’s the reason for all this? For sending me here for a big ball and a fancy wedding if I am not supposed to love the man I’m sharing these parties with? How am I to enjoy marriage before children then?” You stand up on these words out of frustration. You hated feeling like your only purpose in this world is to bear children, to produce an heir.

“Love between royals is not a natural thing, it can’t just happen between any two people. There must be that connection there and it often isn’t developed for a while.” She chuckles. “What? Did you think you were going to live inside one of those fairytales your wet nurse used to tell you before you went to sleep?” She asks, looking up at you, surprised.

“What do you mean ‘between royals’?”

“We must do what’s best for our people, it’s selfish to marry for love when you are royalty.”

You feel defeated.

“No… No, there's so much more to love. Love is not selfish, in fact, I believe that loving someone with our hesitation and unconditionally is the most selfless act one could ever do.” Your voice raises just a bit. You meant every word you said.

“If you feel this way about love, then surely you must love the Prince. What’s the problem then? We’ve been preparing you for this reality for years, it’s not a new concept that you would not love immediately, I can only imagine you would feel so emotionally because you have those feelings for someone.”

Did you?

You consider what she was saying, your eyes trailing to the side as you thought. You supposed she was right, there would be no reason for you to feel so passionately about it if you hadn’t experienced it for yourself.

But you weren’t having that experience with Korkie, the hell you weren’t.

Did you love the Knight? You don’t know his name, you don’t know his face, you don’t know anything about him and yet you are starting to think that infatuation has grown into adoration. Your legs feel weak, and you have to slowly lower yourself onto the couch again, feeling woozy from the realization. How did you let it get so far? Your confused face turns to look at your mother’s, eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly open.

“I sense you realized something you didn’t already know.”

You slowly nod your head. Unsure of how to react, you fiddle with your fingers, trying to gain your bearings again. You expect your mother to speak up but she never does.

Before the conversation continues, however, the door is pulled open and three Knights are walking in, a Butler steps in, “Her Majesty, The Queen.” He says before nodding and stepping away. Bo-Katan glides into the room, regal as ever. You and your mother stand up from where you sat, curtsying for your hostess.

“Your Majesty.” She takes your mother’s hand, both of them smiling and kissing one another on either cheek. “I trust your travels were comfortable?”

“Yes, your coachmen were very hospitable.” Your mother nods.

Korkie then enters the rooms with another young Prince who you hadn't met before. He was blonde, and skinny as a twig. He wore a white and gold ceremonial cloak that covered his right shoulder. You smile at Korkie out of Obligation, and he and the other prince bow to the women in the room.

“Princess!” Korkie cheers, “This is my cousin, Prince Hugo of Bespin.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.” He takes your hand and kisses the top of it, his smile charming and blue eyes bright. You were flattered by the gesture, humming.

“The pleasure is mine.” You follow royal protocol. Then, another woman enters the room. She’s tall, an intricate headpiece adorns long, black hair and she has hypnotic, black eyes hidden by deep set, hooded eyes. She’s beautiful, with toned skin and red dots drawn under her lips making her stand out from everyone in the room.

“Ah, Her Majesty Queen Clarya of Naboo.” Bo-Katan introduces. The Elven Queen Ahsoka then enters the room, and everyone, even the Queens bow out of respect before the door is closed. The parlor is suddenly very full, and your intimate moment with your mother is lost entirely. You are suddenly very aware of your disheveled look, and try to run your fingers through your hair a few times.

“It’s lovely to finally meet you.” Clarya says, smiling. “I’ve heard so much about you.” Taking your hand and giving you a friendly squeeze.

“Oh… I’m afraid I haven’t heard much about you.” You apologize.

“No troubles, You are all the gossip among the other Kingdoms.” The eastern queen explains.

“Yes, It appears you are.” Korkie says, moving to stand by your side. “How wonderful that my beautiful wife-to-be is regarded so highly across the world.” He tries to take your hand but you pull it away, not necessarily meaning to, but it was a reflex that you failed to suppress after realizing you were in love with an entirely different man. He clears his throat, and the aura in the room is awkward, you aren’t sure what to do, so you just say the first thing to come out of your mouth.

“Have any of you gone to the beach? It’s lovely!” You awkwardly smile before walking over to the drink cart underneath a portrait of a Manda’lor of a past generation. You try to ignore all the people, feeling a little embarrassed that they were all seeing you dressed like this. You didn’t even think of what suspicion could be born out of that phrase.

“Oh yes, our sandy beaches are widely loved by all.” Bo-Katan takes a seat on the sofa in the place you had sat at just moments before, crossing her ankles under her gown. You shakily pour amber liquid into a crystal glass, your hand shaking as you bring it to your lips, taking a sip of the alcohol.

“Nothing like the Corellian beaches, I assume?” Your mother asks. “Our beaches are rocky and often frozen over.”

“Ah yes, but the Corellian ship fjords are lovely, what a wonderful exposure to culture you raised your daughter with!” Ahsoka sings.

“She turned out alright.” Your mother teases and everyone chuckles warmly. You turn around after drinking, and sheepishly smile. Gods you hope she meant that.

“Well, we are all very excited for the ball tomorrow.” Clarya says, “My assistant worked on a mask for hours the night before we left. It will be an extravagant sight to see everyone dressed so festively.”

“Of course, but we all know none of us can compare to the fashion and extravagance of the Naboolians.” Korkie hums. Everyone chuckles again. You nervously looked out to all of them, you had just made possibly the biggest mistake of your life and none of them paid any attention to you despite it. You had just shown Korkie your first and only sign of true disinterest the night before your engagement ball and you desperately wished you could go back in time and take his hand instead of denying the act of affection, even if you didn’t feel good about it.

“I think you will all be pleased to hear that it was the Princess who came up with the Masquerade idea.” Bo gestures to you. You smile with your teeth, trying to act normal and not like you were secretly dying inside. There is general amusement when that is said, and you can’t help but fidget with the crystal alcohol glass, wanting to leave the room and return to the comfortable embrace of the Knight on the beach.

“Beautiful and smart!” Korkie’s cousin laughs, putting emphasis on the ‘and’. “It’s not every day you find a woman like that!” Everyone laughs again, and this time you force out a faux chuckle to seem more involved in the eyes of the others. “You better hang onto her, Kork!” Korkie smiled at his cousin's words, looking over to you. You feel weak, not liking all the attention. If this much attention was making you feel this way, what would the ball with hundreds of guests tomorrow night be like?

“Yes but, I can’t seem to remember going to the beach with you?” Korkie asks, his diplomatic voice cutting through the laughter. You nervously laugh. He knew something was up. How could you be so careless?

“What? Did I say something about the beach?” You try to play it off cluelessly.

“Oh come on, we all know you aren’t that ditzy.” His cousin groans

“Your fiance asked you a question, dear.” Your mother prods.

“Yes, did you go to the beach sometime during your time here?” Bo-Katan is the one to ask this time, and your legs are starting to feel unsteady.

“It’s not a bad thing, we just want to know.” Korkie takes a step in your direction, making you feel closed in. “We all love the beach here and we are happy you have gotten the chance to enjoy it.” You sensed there was an undertone with his true meaning.

You weren’t sure if you believed him when he said this, “Is it hot in here?” You chuckle, “I think I’ll have another drink, would you like one, Korkie? You ask before turning around and pouring another glass of brandy. He can see how shaky your hand is as you try to fill the cup. He stands behind you, wrapping his arm around you and cupping your hand with his in an attempt to make the pouring more steady. The action startles you, and you flinch as a reaction, dropping the crystal glass in your hand. It was already partially full, and it falls down to the floor in slow motion, golden drink splashing out of it as glass shatters on impact, making a loud, crashing sound that sends shards out across the floor and leaves a puddle of alcohol to soak into the bottom hem of Koska’s sister’s dress. The women of the room gasp from shock, and Hugo walks quickly over to see the mess. You look down at the glass in shock of what you just did, your heart sinking and stomach churning. Lady Tano is the next one to walk over to you, taking you by the shoulders and guiding you to one of the arm chairs, helping you sit down. The room was deathly silent now, you could hear your pulse ringing through your ears. Ahsoka crouches before you, ruling your hand with hers and trying to comfort you from the unexpected shock. Korkies hands are balled into fists. Was he angry with you?

“No worries.” Hugo laughs, trying to be an entertainer, “Butler!” The Butler opens the door.

“Is everything alright?” He asks after bowing.

“Yes, we just made a little mess, would you be so kind as to clean it up?” Hugo walks Korkie, who seems to be just as shocked and embarrassed as you, over to another armchair. The butler snaps and then whistles and three young maids come in, each one getting on their hands and knees to pick up the pieces of glass.

“Princess?” Your mother says, “Do you have something you would like to say to the Manda’lor?” She awkwardly asks, clearly trying to make good from the situation, side-eying Bo.

Your pale face turns to look at Bo, who had that same disappointed frown that you always see on her.

“My deepest apologies, your Majesty.” You clear your throat before painfully looking over to where Korkie sat, his hand resting in his palm and expression down turned.

“Well!” Hugo takes the center of the room. “No use in sitting here in silence, mistakes happen! Right Auntie?” He says to Bo.

“Of course.” She smiles, physically accepting your apology with a reassuring nod.

“Lovely, would anyone like some music?” He asks.

“That would be lovely, Hugo.” Lady Tano says in her ethereal voice. He smiles and walks over to the baby grand piano in the corner of the room, the same baby grand that you played at for your Knight a few weeks ago.

“The Princess plays!” Your mother says, trying to alleviate any tension.

“She does?” Hugo makes direct eye contact with you. “Would you like to play a duet with me?”

“Hugo, she just-“ Ahsoka begins but is interrupted by your mother.

“Oh won’t you play for us Dear?” She asks, smiling.

“Please! I have wanted to hear you play since I was told you could.” Bo-Katan asks. It would be rude to decline a request from the Queen and the Host of the night.

You nod and stand up, that could be just the thing you need to feel better. You walk over to the piano, stopping just before Hugo.

“Bass or Soprano?” He asks, muttering so quietly that only you can hear it.

“Soprano.” You say. He pulls the bench out and sits first since he would be playing the lower part. You then sit next to him, your hands still slightly shaking.

“Do you know the ‘Dathomirian Waltz’?” He asks. You nod. “Lovely, key of D minor then, I’ll follow you.” He pulls his hands up to the keys, and you follow, taking two deep breaths, the first to calm your shaking hands, the second to conduct both of you in at the same time. Together you play a set of intricate chords, Hugo emphasizing on the bass notes, playing a complex scale that brought his left hand over his right several times. You carry the melody, playing just slightly louder than him and allowing yourself to fall into the trance of performing. Your hands finally quit shaking after a few phrases of the music, allowing it to soothe your nerves. Music has always done that for you. All of the nobles in the room smile, the Naboolian Queen sighing at the beauty of the complicated piece. You can’t keep the smile from pulling on your lips. Korkie’s cousin was very talented, much better than you. His hand brushed against yours several times and you couldn’t help yourself from thinking about the Knight when Hugo touches you.

This was something you would never get with him. You would never get to share a memorable moment with others, never get to rub hands against each other in front of three Queens, never get to look one another in the eye without shame or secrecy. The thoughts start to overcome your consciousness, causing you to play a sour note. No one seemed to notice, but you were more aware of it than you should have been.

A beautiful piece, carefully composed and rehearsed, performed with the intent to dazzle, the intent to impress. However there will always be the sour note, an incorrect chord that the audience might not hear but those giving the show will dwell on undoubtedly.

Like the Kingdom of Mandalore.

——————————————

“Rise and Shine your Highness!” A sing-songy voice calls out to you before pulling the long, draping curtains apart and letting the warm Mandalorian sun pour into the room. You groan and flip over onto your side, your body is still exhausted from yesterday evening and you would like to sleep in a little longer.

“Oh, don’t give us that.” A more brash voice groans and you recognize it as Koska’s. You can hear a number of other bodies file into the suite, maybe three or four. The handmaid's pull in the elven dress and a light breakfast. You can still smell the salt water on your forearm as you swing your hand over your eyes. You were not a morning person. Koska walks up to your bed before sitting on the edge of it, placing her tan hand on your shoulder. “We’ve let you sleep in long enough, we have to get you dressed and ready for tea with the Queens.”

“Queens?” You mumble, slurring the ‘s’ out.

“Yup, both Bo-Katan and your mother as well as the Queen of Naboo and Duchess of the Felucian mountain Kingdom are all eager to spend brunch with you in the Garden.” More guests arrived this morning while you were still sleeping, but it wasn’t until Koska explained to you about the women waiting for you that you remembered what day it was. You opened your eyes wide, flopping your arm onto the mattress beside you and looking up at her drowsily.

“The masquerade is today.” You say out of realization. She smirks and slowly nods her head. Soniee budges into your conversation, sitting on the opposite side of the bed.

“We have two dresses for you to wear today! This one,” She pulls forward a gown that isn’t quite as full and round as the dress for the ball, but is still a lovely dress with a pretty skirt and pearls embroidered into the bodice. “And of course the elf dress.” She nods to the pink and gold gown that sat on a sewing-bust, shimmering in the light. “We won’t get you into the ball gown until later tonight.” She hums.

“Now, we have to get you cleaned up, your hair is a mess.” Koska stands up and pulls the heavy down comforter from off of you. The loss of warmth elicits another sleepy groan from your lips and you stare up at the ladies in waiting frustratedly. “Up!” Koska’s serious voice commands and you’re scared enough of her that you jump up out of bed, pulling the nightgown sleeve up that has been slowly slipping down your shoulder and showing more and more skin. “That’s better.” Koska hums, “Let’s get you a bath, yeah?” She walks towards the bath room, opening the golden gilded doors and into the naturally-light room. You will always admire the beauty and effort put into the Mandalorian palace despite the internal battle with living here. You follow her into the room, still sleepy and walking slowly but eventually making it to the tub in the center of the room. The bath has already been drawn, which they must have done in your sleep (they’ve never done that before). You strip out of the cream-colored nightie and dip into the warm water. It smelled of lavender and honey and you allowed your muscles to relax into the bubbles. It was perfect, exactly what you needed to clear your racing and stressful mind. Your muscles were sore from yesterday and the warm water and flowery oils soaked them blissfully. You sigh at the sensation but before you can enjoy it anymore, Koska is dumping the warm water over your head, wetting it completely. It’s unexpected and you gasp from shock, your eyes glued shut to keep the water out of them. Damp hands come up from out of the water to wipe your eyes but then another dump of water is pouring over your head and you’re back at square one. Koska was a much harsher bather than Sonnie was.

All is forgiven however when she starts massaging your scalp, cleaning your hair. You relax back into the tub and enjoy the seawater and wind getting rinsed out. The other ladies come in, one on either side of the tub who files your nails, and Sonnie brings in a towel and silk robe. The other handmaiden works at your calloused feet with a pumice stone and you try not to let it tickle too much. It was true pampering and you loved every second of it. Usually there’s only one maiden to bathe you but five was divine. You assumed this was the treatment the Queen always received.

After you are properly cleaned, your Corellian tea is brought in and you’re left alone for as long as you like. You slowly sip on the purple shaded drink, waking up from it’s comforting properties. You sigh deeply, allowing the fragrant air to fill your lungs while you look out of the tall, narrow window in the center of the outside wall. You could not see the ocean from here, but instead the distant roofs of Keldabe. It was a beautiful summer day, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and you could hear the birds who have nested in the nooks and crannies of the towers chirping. You knew you had a long day ahead of you, and you wanted to try and enjoy it as much as you could. You never really enjoyed the social aspect of royalty, and that’s all today will be, but you’re ready to brave it head on.

An hour passes before you are finally dressed in the first gown of the day. Your hair is braided back so that it will have a desirable wave for the ball tonight. You are snuggly tied into the pearled bodice of the dress, and you run your hands up and down the beading, allowing it to tickle your soft palms.

Koska pulls open the door, and you’re expecting to see the Knight standing there stoically as always, but he isn’t. The hallway is completely empty, in fact, and you can’t ignore the dreadful feeling that overcomes your body. Where was he?

You clear your throat, and look back at Koska, who was adjusting the skirt of your gown as you walked.

“Where is he?” You ask, your voice hushed almost to a whisper but not quite. There were a million possibilities behind his absence and not a single one of them was ideal. Koska lifts up from her crouched position, smoothing the front pleats of her dress.

“What?” She asks and you sigh out of frustration, there was absolutely no way she didn’t know what you were talking about but you had to be vague because of all the ladies in waiting listening in.

“Who will be accompanying me to the garden?” You say with a forceful tone, trying to prod at a deeper meaning to the question.

Luckily, Lady Reeves picks up on it, and she looks behind you. You felt like she was avoiding eye-contact and it only made you more stressed and confused. “I’ll be escorting you, Highness.” She nodded, moving a step forward and then taking the lead down the corridor. You follow hesitantly, and wait until you are far enough down the hall from the other ladies back in your suite to speak again.

“Don’t horseshit me.” You mutter behind her. She keeps her chin up high as usual. “He’s in trouble, isn’t he.”

Koska doesn’t answer.

“Koska, you promised me he would be okay.” You try not to let the emotion show through your tone but that was a challenge. You felt guilty for some reason. If he was in trouble, it would be entirely your fault. The words shake in your throat and maybe it’s the tight corset and the fact that you are descending the stairs but you’re out of breath and it’s hot, so hot.

“He’s fine, I swear to the stars.” She whispers, saying it straight forward instead of turning back at you in an attempt to stay calm and unsuspecting to watchful eyes.

“Well then why didn’t you tell me that?” You ask, twiddling your thumbs.

“I couldn’t… there’s more to it but-“

“But what? What could be so secretive that you have to keep it from your future queen?” You say through gritted teeth and immediately after, Koska is spinning around on the staircase and looking up at you with a furrowed brow. You felt like you were being scolded by an impatient tutor despite the fact that you out-ranked her.

“You don’t even want to be the Queen.” She says in a whisper-shout, starting to sound as angry and emotional as you were just moments before.

“You’re right, I don’t-“ You bite back.

“So why are you here, then?”

You aren’t sure how to answer, the obvious answer is for Corellia. You were promised something in return for your ability to produce an heir and look like a porcelain figurine on a high shelf. But you also knew it would make your family happy, and your Kingdom. You would be making them proud by marrying so rich. You made a promise.

But now you think you’re starting to stay for an entirely different and unethical reason. Something that is inherently a trap and you know it, and yet here you are, fussing over it at every change you have.

Koska rolls her eyes and scoffs before continuing down the stairs.

“Who spit in your porridge this morning?” You reply.

“You did.” She groans in response.

“I’m sorry, but what did I ever do to you?” You ask when you complete the steps down and start down another corridor, one section of the massive palace closer to your destination.

Koska is the one not to answer this time.

It infuriates you that everyone is keeping secrets from you, your entire experience in Mandalore feels built on deception and being left-out. And now, the two people who finally seemed to be on your side aren’t with you in one way or another on such a big day. Koska is angry with you for no reason and you have no idea where your knight is.

The rest of the walk to the Gardens is silent, and before you know it, you are plopped down on an uncomfortable wicker chair in the hot sun, sipping on lukewarm lemon tea and wondering how much longer you have to suffer. Your mother and Bo were giggling about something, the rest of the court buzzing with conversation and ignoring you as always. Was it possible that you were the problem? You ask yourself this after another sip of the tea, a lemon slice bumping up against your upper lip a few times. As you think, you hold the dainty cup against your mouth, losing yourself in thought without realization. Your pretty eyes stare down at the green grass of the Garden. The grass never gets green back home.

You start subconsciously bouncing your leg as you thought to yourself. Everyone seemed to ignore expect for Korkie and your Knight— who both want to fuck you. Maybe that was the only desirable thing about you. This wasn’t the first time you felt insecure about the relationship you have developed with the Knight. He’s so quiet, so different from you. Were you falling for a trick?

Was he?

Tea must have gone by fast because just before the pearls of your dress start to burn against your arms from the heat exposure, you’re excusing yourself and wandering back inside.

“Strange girl.” One of the noble ladies says to Bo when you walk away. You don’t hear it, you can’t hear anything except for your deafening thoughts.

“Are you sure she’s the one for your nephew?” Another asks. If you had known your mother was silent for all of this in fear of losing her reputation or even the deal between Corellia and Mandalore, you would have been furious.

“Well his father was an outcast, too.” One chuckles. “I guess you Kyrze’s attract the wallflowers.” A few hummed in amused response.

“Well his father wasn’t just an outcast, he was a downright scandal-“

“My sister loved him, and that is all that matters.” Bo interrupts. The laughter quickly dies out.

“Don’t tell me you believe in love, too.” One laughs.

“You aren’t married, what could you know of love?” The same one bo interrupted says.

“I do believe in love, which is why I am not married.” The Queen reiterates. “And I don’t think she’s the right fit for my Nephew, she’s too… outspoken. He needs someone who won’t outshine him.” They chuckle again, all do but your mother, who is still meekly silent.

“Well with the engagement Ball tonight, it is far too late to back out now.” One teases, and the laughter only grows.

Bo-Katan stares in the direction you left.

You huff down the hall, your arms folded and neck sweaty from the heat. You are looking back and forth, studying the layout of the hall in search of something. You’re looking for the smallest idea of where the knight could be but you aren’t very successful.

While all the fully armored guards of the Mandalorian palace are dressed identically, you are almost certain you would be able to spot your boy in a crowd of a thousand of them. You aren’t sure why, but there is something different about him, something that sticks out from the rest. Somehow you two were connected, and it made it so he was always plaguing your mind, even when you are with your literal fiance. Even when you are far away from him and have no clue where he is for the first time in two weeks.

Separation Anxiety.

You aren’t watching where you’re going, which makes you run into a tall, lanky boy. You yelp out in apologetic surprise, looking up at the person blocking your stressed search. A blonde boy flips around to look at you and you’re half expecting to see Korkie but it isn’t.

His Cousin, Hugo, looks down at you with his same charming smirk as always.

“Princess!” He bows.

“My apologies, Hugo!” You exclaim.

“Oh please, you are perfectly fine. You looked distressed? I hope It was not something I did?”

“Of course not!” You reassure, awkwardly smiling. “Uh- may i ask what you were doing in the center of the corridor?”

He chuckles, “Admiring this art.” He nods to an expansive, framed oil painting on the wall. It was of a tall man with a long face and alarming smirk. What stuck out to you, however, was that he held in both hands the same black sword from the royal portraits upstairs by the war room.

“The art is beautiful here.” You smile.

“Yes, my Aunt Satine worked hard to make it culturally rich.”

“Did you know her?”

“Yes, I am a bit older than Korkie, and I knew her for several years before she passed.”

“Are you… second in line?”

“I am.” He says with a classic amused smirk.

“So maybe you can answer a question for me, then.” You ask as you look up at the art. “What in the world is that?” You ask in reference to the blade.

“That, my foreign Princess, is the Dark Sword of Mandalore.”

“The what?” You cluelessly ask.

“A sacred weapon that the rightful ruler possesses, it’s rather powerful.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it before.” You look up at it in awe.

“Hah, yes. It is made of pure obsidian. The white is enchanted quartz veins. It is practically invincible, an elven Mand’alor forged it when he was just a boy.”

“What? There were Mandalorians who were part elf?” You ask, your eyes peeling off of the art and onto your companion.

He looks at you almost confused, “There is much you do not know about my Kingdom?”

“No… I’m afraid not.” You shamefully admit.

“Most don’t,” He shrugs and returns to the conversation unbothered, “It’s history is rather complicated.”

The two of you were quiet for a long time. Your eyes were glued to the stern face of the man in the portrait. You wondered who he was. Hugo is the first to speak up.

“You played beautifully last night.” You doubted he didn’t notice the incorrect notes and mistakes you made several times, maybe he was just being polite by ignoring them. You turn to look at him and smile kindly.

“As did you.” You return the compliment. He looks at you, and you must have been distracted by something other than him because you weren’t aware that his eyes were darting between your eyes and your lips.

Hugo forces a kiss on you.

Just like how Korkie did a few weeks ago in the library. It’s fast because you angrily pull away just as fast as he placed it on you.

“What?” You say like an idiot, looking up at him in shock.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me you don’t feel it?” He gets defensive immediately. The worst part is that it wasn’t even that bad of a kiss, much softer than Korkies, but nowhere as tender as the kisses the Knight would lay on you in the water or behind a closed door. Your entire body seemed to seize up, and you couldn’t get any words out. Not any words that you wanted to say. You just looked up at him, vulnerable and confused. He leans down to do it again but you’re able to turn your head to the side, keeping his lips off of you.

“I am… in love with another man.” You say, clearing your throat.

“You and I both know that isn’t my cousin.”

No use denying it at this point, “yes, but I am still engaged to him. I cannot just be disloyal to the future Mand’alor.” You mutter, embarrassed but trying to keep your cool. You knew you were lying, because you weren’t staying loyal to Korkie. No, you were outright cheating on him and you were falling in love with the boy you were cheating with. You were falling in love. You were very exposed, after all. Anyone could turn the corner or look through the windows and see you. It was different this time, however. Usually hiding your kisses are exciting, but that was only with the Knight. “Please,” You voice betrays you, and the emotional shake is heard through your clenched jaw, “Excuse me.” You push passed him frustratedly, making sure to shove him over a little with your shoulder. You angrily walk back to your room, finally getting there without help for the first time.

When you turned down the Corridor to your suite, you were hoping to see the beskar-clad boy who held you last night, but he still wasn’t there. You hold back emotional tears, but not seeing the one who brings the most comfort to you makes you break. Two crystal tears roll down your cheeks.

You have been taken advantage of too many times in this forsaken castle.

You pull open the door, the golden afternoon light reflecting warmly off of the gold-leafed furniture and decorations is a stark contrast from the bleak hallway. Your bed has been made, and things have been tidied up since you were in here last. You flop onto the mattress, your arms stretched out from your sides, looking up at the sheer canopy above where you lay.

Two hours pass. You think you fell asleep but you cannot remember. If you did, no dreams were had.

Soniee opens your door with trepidation after two soft knocks, “Princess, It is time to prepare for the ball.” Her voice is so timid. You twist your head to look at her, the other ladies from this morning were behind her. Koska was not with them.

You sit up from the bed, rubbing a crook in your neck from how you were laying...

—

authors note (again): i know this isn’t the best chapter ending but ya know... IT WASNT SUPPOSED TO BE

Anyways..... see you tomorrow? i guess? haha

Taglist: @remmysbounty @snow30285 @what-iwish-you-knew @softly-sad @carbonated-beverage @frogllady @baileys-corner @song-of-sea-and-sky @leaiorganas @weirdowithnobeardo @ginger-swag-rapunzel @bewitchedbodyandsol l @mograh @justavolcano @theokatz @lowkeytesss @hallway5 @dat-girl-in-corner @news4bees @istealyof00d @songofcosplay @waffles4lif3 @mcueveryday @310ra @thatonedindjarinfan @songofseraphine @callmekane @theelilbritt @bbwithaknife @firstofficerwiggles @jedi-jesi @ironbabey @minttchipp @bel-ppa @honey-hi @cp11 @venomous-ko @bbwithaknife @lunatic-sunsets @1800-fight-me @foundtheavacados @elphabaforpresidentofgallifrey @florenceivy @theanothersherlockian @spideysimpossiblegirl @mandomistress @floraandfrost @paradoxpictures @stinky-child

“if you are included in the taglist, you are expected to interact with the post you are tagged in (ex. reblogs, comments and notes), if I notice that you are not interacting with the applicable post, you will be removed from the taglist”

—

part twelve

183 notes · View notes

depressedacadamia · 3 years ago

Text

A kiss would be nice

Summary: Magnus develops feelings for his roomate and has no idea what to do; when theres' some serious miscommunication, Alex and Magnus have to solve an obvious problem.

Pairing: Fierrochase

A/N: THIS WAS MY FIRST EVER REQUEST!!!! I swear I'm gonna organise my Masterlist on tumblr coz its a hot mess rn and then I will get a prompt list up. Anyway, I hope this lives up to the expectations of the request- enjoy and comment!

Read on A03 M;List

Magnus liked Alex.

How exactly was he meant to process this?

Yes. Alex was sometimes a girl and other times a boy but what did it make him?

He could remember the moment Alex came floundering into his life, confident about who she was and Magnus could only think about how much he didn't know about himself. It was ridiculous, in his opinion, to think that he fundamentally changed as a person just because he liked someone.

So why did he feel so scared to come to that conclusion that he did in fact like Alex?

“What are you thinking so hard about over there, pretty boy?” Alex asked dryly as he scrolled through his phone while he dangled off the top bunk of their dormitory. Startled, Magnus snapped his head towards Alex and with no game whatsoever stuttered a terrible lie.

“Uh- Uh, nothing.”

“Uhu,” Alex emphasised. “ So that totally wasn't a lie.”

“Yes, Wait, I mean no- wait,” Magnus stuttered out again, his hands beginning to fidget and his palms becoming sweaty.

Alex simply raised an eyebrow before softly sighing and returning to his phone scrolling. He knew that Magnus wasn't the kind to keep secrets in a malicious manner- if he wasn't spilling something, it was because he didn't feel comfortable and Alex knew as well as anyone else that if Magnus was uncomfortable, nothing was spilling from his lips.

Clenching his fists in finality, Magnus got up, accidentally banging the top of his head on the top bunk above him where Alex was elegantly dangling off, his hair defying the laws of gravity by maintaining its rightful position on his head. He rubbed his head, swore under his breath and continued to make a bashful exit from the dorm room.

Alex could tell that something was definitely up.

Sure, Magnus was weird- he sometimes came back home at incredibly odd hours, always seemed relatively silent when one were to ask him where he had been and he almost always wore his lengthy blonde hair in a way that covered the majority of his face; in fact, Alex had thought about tilting his chin up just so he could get a better view of his elegant features.

So what exactly was it causing his roommate to act so oddly?

Magnus was in the bathroom. In fact he was hiding out in one of the stalls, trying his best to avud Alex at all costs. What had started out as a way to skip the horribly boring parts of his classes, now became a full blown ritual in which he would run away to his favourite bathroom stall- the one by the very end, next to the hand blow dryers, were his favourite but also alarmed him because it was there where he could hear whether anybody really washed their hands and there was an alarming amount of evidence which contradicted so.

He would take a book or sometimes just plug in his earphones to listen to music as he essentially hid out in the stall. Sometimes, when he felt a bit more confident- and knew Alex would be off campus- Magnus would hide out in the library; a much more comfortable and all round better smelling place to read, study and or listen to music.

But now as he slowly emerged from the stall after hours of sitting, heading back towards his room, Magnus could only feel this inevitable feeling of impending doom. He had managed to distract himself from the Alex situation for so long and now, he was about to crumble.

It was only a matter of time.

“Magnus?” A familiar and - dare I even say- dreaded voice asked him.

Glancing through the blonde locks of hair which curtained his face, he caught a glimpse of familiar green hair which he had been avoiding.

“Huh?” He managed to mumble.

Alex frowned. “Don’t ‘huh’ me. Where have you been? I’ve been calling you all day.”

Magnus’s eyes widened- he had left his phone on silent as he didnt want to deal with others. “I-you did? Sorry.”

“That doesn't matter now. Where have you bee- actually nevermind that as well, come on, we need to get back, it’s already late and I know you have an early class tomorrow.”

Magnus hesitated.

Alex noticed. He refused to stay silent about the matter any longer.

“Okay. Spit it out. “

“What!” Magnus stammered. “ Spi- spit what? Spit wh- what out exactly?”

“The reason you’ve been avoiding me? Did I forget to do my chores or something? Or did I accidentally make some sort of mess of your stuff?”

“No- No, of course not!”

“So?”

Magnus found himself too enamoured with Alex’s features to respond. He could feel the bubble bath slowly overflowing inside his mind. What did it mean if he liked Alex? Was he now a completely different person? What did it matter if he liked Alex?

Wasn't he just like everybody else?

But Magnus’ mind told him that it was so obvious that Alex was in fact not like everybody else, otherwise why was it Alex whom he couldn’t keep his eyes off of? If Alex was so like everyone else, why was it his eyes that Magnus always wanted to stare at, why was it Alex’s hair that Magnus always wanted to ruffle or Alex’s hand that he always wanted to hold?

Why was it always Alex whom he wanted to hug when he was having a bad day?

So when he looked back at Alex, he felt the overwhelming need to throw himself and wrap his arms around Alex so tightly that Alex would have trouble breathing and then - in Magnus’s perfect world- Alex would also wrap his arms around Magnus and they would hold each other in their arms and stand their leaning on each other.

“Nothing,” Magnmus mumbled as he came back to reality.

He walked past Alex, eager to get back to their dorm and just sleep his feelings away- something he was used to doing thanks to his years of being homeless. He wasn’t about to escape when a slender hand wrapped itself around his wrist and dragged him backwards.

“No.” Alex huffed almost angrily. “You’re not running away from me,not again.”

Magnus could have sworn- looking back- that he may have let out a squeak.

“You are avoiding me Mister and I’d like to know why. It’s bad enough that you spend all your time hiding in the bathroom stalls, it’s even worse that you're doing it to avoid someone as fabulous as myself. So if we could quickly get this over with, It would be greatly appreciated and I’m sure it would relieve your nostrils as well.”

“I-”

“You…?”Alex prompted.

“Ilikeyou.”

Alex paused, scrunched up his nose before raising an eyebrow in ridicule and letting out a laugh. And while Magnus truly believed there was nothing more beautiful than Alex’s smile, right now, it was the most damning thing he had ever seen.

Of course Alex would be laughing! Who wouldn't be laughing if some weedy, shady blond kid confessed their feelings for them in the most pathetic way possible!

Magnus had no other choice but to clench his fists to resist the burning sensation gathering in his eyes as he turned on his heel and hurried back to his dorm.

He was curled up on his bed, binging criminal minds on his laptop because what else was meant to comfort you after getting rejected if it wasn’t watching people getting brutally murdered by psychopaths and sadists?

He was wrapped with this specific episode- involving a bunch of very explicit murder- when Alex snatched his headphones right off his head plopped himself in the computer chair that rested right next to the bottom bunk where Magnus had been hiding out.

He could feel himself paling as he remembered that he lived with Alex.

“We need to talk.”

What? He was so sick of Alex making every decision, afterall- it was Alex who chose to laugh at him.

“We have nothing to talk about,” Magnus managed to snap back.

“Why do you keep avoiding me? First in our own dorm, then in public and now you don't even want to look at me.”

“I’m sorry,” He retorted, his words coated with so much sarcasm, had there been anymore, he may have become Samirah at that very moment. “Was I expected to hang around after being ridiculed?”

“Ridiculed? What do you mea-”

“-What do I mean? I guess you wouldnt understand what it feels like for someone whom you really really like to outright just laugh at you after confessing. I guess you don't know how- how nerve racking and horrible it is to not feel comfortable and safe wherever you go. I guess you were privileged enough to not deal with doubting yourself with every decision you make and every thought you have!”

Alex started. “I-”

“-No. I’m not finished. Do you know how that made me feel?” Magnus was on a roll. “ Like shit. I felt shitty. I felt like shit and I was curled up like a bratty 5 year old and do you know what I’ve realised? I’ve realised that I have nob reason to feel shitty because I'm not the one who was so insecure in myself that I laughed at someone else who was struggling, esepcially when I rejected a hot piece of ass such as myself!” He finished his ramble with a shout, his chest heaving, cheeks flushed and somehow, his hair messy.

“So,” Alex drawled causally. “ Am I allowed to speak now?”

“No.”

Rolling his eyes, Alex sooke anyway. “ I’m sorry that you feel this way and I guess I can't change that I was the person who made you feel like- well, shit, but I have to say Beantown, you really shouldn't assume things so quickly.”

Magnus frowned, turning his shiny, glossy eyes towards Alex finally. “Huh?”

“Well. If you were to give me a chance to explain, I’d be able to tell you that I laughed because I thought you looked adorable. I would be able to tell you that I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings in any way and I’m very sorry if I did and…”

Alex held Magnus’ chin, pulling his head a bit down so he was able to fully look him in the eye rather than just looking away under Magnus’ chin, forcing him to look him in the eye.

“And…?” Magnus whispered hesitantly, almost afraid of the answer.

“And, I would be able to tell you that I like you.” Alex smiled dopily.

Did Magnus hear that correctly? Did Alex Fierro- the most confident, and in Magnus’s eyes, the most attractive person out there just admit to liking the scraggly kid who used to live on the streets?

“Excuse me?”

Aex sighed. “I said that I like you and your … What was it you said?” He paused for dramatic effect because lighting up his eyes. “ Oh yes and your ‘hot piece of ass’ I believe it was.”

Magnus cringed at his previous words as he started at Alex. Alex fierro liked him!

“What?” Alex smirked on noticing Magnus’s innocent stare.

“Can I try something?” Magnus tilted his head to the side innocently. Alex nodded.

Yes, please do try something, A kiss would be nice.

But to Alex’s surprise, he felt Magnus’s arms being wrapped around his body. It was an odd sensation that at first made Alex want to reel backwards.

But then this familiar ignition in his stomach tugged him back to wrap his arms back around Magnus and bury his face in Magnus’s chest, just about reaching his collarbone.

The hug was brief. Perhaps not even longer than 15 seconds at a maximum, but it was enough for Magnus to feel better.

Alex decided that perhaps next time Magnus would kiss him.

Super cool people Taglist: @wisegirl773 @ddepressedbookworm

#Magnus chase #Alex fierro #fierrochase #Magnus x Alex #Alex x Magnus #Magnus chase fluff #fierrochase fluf #fierrochase angst #Magnus chase angst #Alex fierro fluff #Alex fierro angst #I think I’ll write a part 2 #mcaga #mcaga fanfic #mcaga fluff #requests #phi phi’s requests!#send me requests!

31 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

bloody and raw, but I swear it is sweet (1)

Warnings: this series will be a shorter one and will include blood/blood kink, cutting, noncon, and other triggers to be warned in future parts.

This features Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes and is explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You unintentionally find yourself at an awkward impasse with your boyfriend's best friend.

Note:

So, I’m transferring this over from ao3! It’s two parts so far but I just kept procrastinating so if you didn’t see it over there, here it is on Tumblr.

I love you all and I always cherish your feedback and comments and wouldn't mind some on this piece here as well. It's never an obligation but always loved.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

It felt like you were always waiting on Steve. He was an important man and his time was equally as important. It wasn’t a surprise that he was so divided between his personal and professional life and you weren’t bitter for it. You learned to live with it. It was a precious sort of patience knowing that when his time was yours, it was spent without waste.

You sat with your phone pressed to your thigh. You were early but when it came to Steve, you were always early. You’d headed over right after work and he warned you his meeting might go late. You didn’t mind the wait so much. You knew most of his colleagues in the tower and it was almost like a second home.

You flipped your phone and checked the time again. You frowned. Even if time passed quickly, it felt too long. Those minutes dwindling that you could be with Steve. You couldn’t be upset; his work was demanding and at times, dire. And he was worth the wait.

As you sighed and flicked through your apps, looking for a distraction, you were startled by a shadow in your peripheral. Bucky had a habit of sneaking up on you and everyone else. His steps were light and measured. You glanced over as he waved to you with two fingers, his other hand clung to a slender metal box. You eyed it as you said ‘hello’ and dropped your phone into your purse.

“Waiting on Steve again?” He stopped on the other side of the empty chair behind you.

“He’s just wrapping up,” you shrugged, “What are you still doing here? You’re usually the first one out.”

“Oh, uh, just picking something up,” he gestured to the box. “Thought I’d stick around and get some practice in.”

You raised a brow and looked at the box again. “Well, what’s the mystery?”

“Ah,” he sat beside you and shifted in the chair. He rested the box on his leg and gripped the lid. He stopped himself and peered over at you. “I lent this to Sam on a mission and he didn’t return it in one piece.” He slowly unclasped the case and opened it. “It’s my favourite combat knife. A kabar. Not standard army issue, but I made a barter for it as we were taking over for a company of Marines.”

You eyed the long knife and its thick handle. Your eyes rounded. You weren’t unused to the presence of weapons but Bucky was so casual about it, it was almost scary.

“Oh,” you blinked, “Wait, you mean, way back…”

“1944.” He declared as he took it off the cushion, “It’s a relic. Well, the handle at least.” He balanced it with his vibranium finger, “You see?”

He turned the handle towards you. You eyed the butt where three letters had been engraved along the metal joint; JBB. You tilted your head as you leaned closer.

“Here,” he made it wobble, “Take it.”

“What? No… I don’t think I should,” you laughed.

“Go on. It’s fine.” He goaded, “What else are you gonna do? Your old man’s sure taking his time.”

“I’m not to be trusted with sharp objects,” you kidded, “If Steve was here, he’d tell you as much.”

“Boo,” he chided, “Don’t worry. I’ve trained greener than you. Just keep your hand on the handle and your fine.”

He waved the handle toward you and you tutted. Reluctantly, you accepted the knife and held it to the light as you admired the blade. It was large and you shuddered as you imagined it slicing through human flesh. You had no doubt it would do so easily.

“It’s a nice knife,” you remarked as you turned it in your hand, “Here.”

You slowly offered it to him but in your haste to be rid of the kabar, it slid in your grasp. You overcompensated for the slip and fumbled it completely. Without thinking and against Bucky’s sudden ‘don’t’, you tried to catch it before it could fall. The edge of the blade sliced your palm before the knife embedded in the floor.

You hissed and recoiled as you held your hand. Bucky shoved the metal box from his thigh and lowered it onto the floor. He turned to you and stared at your bloody palm as you tried to stems the flow.

“Shit,” he searched his pockets, “Are you okay?”

He got up and grabbed the box of tissues from the table on the other side of you. He sat again and pressed a wad of six tissues to your hand as he cradled it. He pushed and you winced with a whimper.

“Gotta apply pressure to slow the flow,” he said, “You’re fine. Probably just need some stitches.”

“Stitches?” You gulped, “Oh.”

You felt woozy as the sight of your own blood. You flinched as he clung to your hand, sandwiched between both of his as the tissue turned red. You heard footsteps along the next hall and you peeked over your shoulder as another appeared at behind you.

“Hey, you two,” Steve chimed, “Funny you ran into--” He choked on his words and rushed forward. “Woah, what happened?”

Steve knelt beside your chair and as good as snatched your hand from Bucky. The movement made your hand throb and Bucky watched Steve with a frown. He stood with a grumble and retrieved his knife from the floor and scooped up the box. Steve moved into the empty chair without looking.

“What were you doing?” Steve snapped.

“I dropped his knife. I was… well, you know how clumsy I can be.” You shook your head, “I’m fine.”

“His knife?” Steve looked back at Bucky and quickly turned back to you, “You let her play with that thing?”

“She’s not a kid, Steve,” Bucky sniffed.

“Maybe not but she got hurt,” Steve snipped.

Bucky pursed his lips and was silent Steve continued to mop up the blood as you watched the other man. Bucky lifted the knife and looked it over. You saw a tint of red along its edge and his blue eyes traced it before he lowered it into the case. He snapped it shut and held it in his metal hand as he left bloody fingerprints on it with his other.

He paused and held up his real hand. He turned it and looked at you between his fingers. His cheek twitched and his eyes returned to his stained flesh. His mouth curved slightly and he brought his fingers closer to his face and seemed to smell them. You gasped as Steve jostled your hand and Bucky poked out his tongue to drag it over your blood as it dripped his knuckles. His fingertips lingered on his lips and he pushed two fingers into his mouth and sucked them clean. He took a deep breath and his dusky eyes bore into you. You were stunned. Were you hallucinating from blood loss? It couldn’t be that bad.

You looked down and Steve checked beneath the tissues.

“Come on. We should head down to Med and get you some stitches,” Steve stood and drew you up with him. With your hand in one of his, he reached over and took your purse from the table. “Well, now you know not to play with knives.” Steve spun and pulled you along, “And you know not to let her.” He reproached Bucky.

“She’s fine. It’s shallow.” Bucky said, though his voice was thick and stunted.

“This time,” Steve rebuffed and kept, “Come on, sweetheart.”

“See ya later, I guess,” Bucky called after you.

“Later,” Steve said sharply without pause.

🩸

Steve didn’t stay mad for long, if he ever was. His worry often got the best of him. He even said it himself and apologized. He dealt with enough blood on the job, he didn’t need it at home. You agreed it was stupid but it wasn’t Bucky’s fault; it was just an accident. You promised, at least, to stick to kitchen knives.

You also made sure that Steve apologized to Bucky. You felt bad after you were all stitched up and thought of the defeat in his voice. Yet, you couldn’t shake the image of Bucky licking your blood from his fingers. You were sure you’d imagined it. You had to have. You had been in so much pain and it had all happened so fast…

You pushed the thoughts away. You were stupid. It didn’t happen. Bucky wasn’t like that. He wouldn’t do that. He just wouldn’t.

A week passed. You didn’t see him again, even when you waited for Steve. Stark was hosting another event and the tower was in a frenzy. Steve was being awarded for his humanitarian work and while Tony didn’t like sharing the spotlight, his name would be mentioned enough to assuage his ego.

Saturday came and you enjoyed a quiet morning as Steve went over his speech and you got ready together. You were still unused to being attached to him at these events; the cameras made you tense and the strangers had you reaching for another wine glass. He made it easier though; he reassured you when in doubt and was able to easily sweep you away from any awkward situation. Steve wasn’t the just the world’s saviour, he was yours.

You arrived and followed Steve past the press. He stopped to say a few words and take some photos but didn’t tarry long.

“Come on,” he pulled you through the doors, “There’ll be enough pictures inside.”

“Ow,” you moaned as he grabbed your bandaged hand.

“Shit, sorry,” he hooked his arm through yours instead, “I still can’t believe you did that.”

“Me either.” You laughed.

“You know, if you knew how to keep hold of a knife, you might actually be a worthy opponent.”

“Maybe,” you poked his arm, “You better hope I never learn how.”

He chuckled and guided you around the bodies around you. Again, he stopped for pictures and bulbs flashed as he stood against a curtain backdrop. He greeted those he knew and patiently smiled at the introductions of those he didn’t. You stayed close as he made certain to include you in each interaction. He never forgot about you and when formalities were over, he hugged your waist and sighed.

He led you to your assigned seats and you were happy to see familiar faces waiting for you, Nat, Wanda, Vision, Tony, and Pepper sat with drinks already half-gone as Bucky approached the table. You averted your eyes as he came to Steve and claimed the chair on his other side.

“How’s your hand?” Bucky asked as you sat.

“Healing,” you showed your bandage, “And your knife? It’s still in one piece?”

“I think it did a lot more damage on you,” he grinned and stared at you a moment before he turned to Steve, “Nervous yet?”

“Shut up, Buck,” Steve felt around his jacket and patted the cue cards hidden there.

“Oh come on, you’re always great,” Bucky scoffed.

“Compared to you? Easy.” Steve smirked.

“Hey,” Bucky elbowed him.

You reached for the glass of white wine and sipped. Natasha caught your attention as she asked about your dress and you lost yourself in a conversation about Wanda’s favourite soap.

Finally, the ceremony began as the tables quieted and Steve pulled your hand over onto his thigh as he squeezed it nervously. You ignored the pain it caused and leaned against him.

“You’ll be alright,” you whispered.

He smiled and turned to kiss your cheek. “How am I gonna think of anything but getting that dress off tonight?”

“Steve,” you uttered and rubbed his thumb with yours.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed and nuzzled your temple before he looked forward again.

You clung to his hand even as it made the bandage chafe against your stitches. You tried to listen but found yourself squirming. His words lingered and you felt giddy. It had been a few days; the two of you worn out from your jobs, your plans often ended in you falling asleep before they could come to fruition.

When Steve was called to accept his award, the crowd stood and you did too. As they applauded, you clapped the back of your hand with other. As Steve made his way to the stage, you felt a shift beside you. A warm scent rose in your nostrils, a subtle cologne, and you felt an arm brush against yours.

“Mmmm,” Bucky hummed as he stood close.

You looked over at him as he grinned, his eyes on the stage. You shook your head and turned back to watch Steve.

“You tasted delicious,” he muttered as he leaned closer. Your hands froze and he reached to touch the back of the bandage wound around it.

You bit down and didn’t dare look at him. You resumed your pathetic applause as Steve climbed onto the stage and Bucky clapped loudly beside you. As the audience quieted and sat, he reluctantly resumed his own seat, Steve’s empty chair between you.

You shivered as Steve stood behind the microphone. He bent his cue cards then peeked at them before he began to speak. You were distracted as you sensed something beside you. You peered over as Bucky’s fingertips tapped against his thigh.

His eyes caught yours and he bowed his head. You looked down again as he brushed his hand over his crotch and pushed his shoulders back. Your eyes flicked up to his face and he winked. You tore your gaze away as your ears buzzed and you could barely decipher Steve’s voice. It wasn’t happening. It wasn’t. And yet, that ache between your legs was even more persistent.

🩸

Steve’s hands were on you before you even closed the door. All night, he’d been sneaking touches; your arm, your hip, your ass. His eyes stuck to you now and then as he took in the praise of another admirer but you could tell, despite his nods, he wasn’t really in the moment.

You heard the lock click as he tugged at the back of your dress. You looked back at him and giggled.

“At least let me get these damn things off,” you looked at the strappy heels.

“Fuck your shoes,” he spun you to him and turned you against the slim table beside the shoe mat. “I’ve waited long enough.”

He lifted you onto the table and your shoulders hit the wall. You braced the edge as he pushed between your legs and crashed his lips into yours. Your cheeks burned and the sensation spread through your body as he crumpled your skirt in his fingers, pulling it further and further up your legs.

You grabbed the lapel of his jacket and pushed it down his shoulders. He rescinded his arms long enough to shed it and let it drop to the floor with a woosh. You yanked on his tie as you kept your mouth moving against his. He forced your skirt higher and you lifted your ass as the cool air brushed the thin fabric of your panties.

He purred and you squeezed him between your thighs. You fiddled with his belt until it came undone and quickly unzipped his fly. You rolled his pants down and hooked your thumbs in the elastic of his brief. You drew your hands to the front and pulled the top of his underwear down past his erection.

You stroked him and he gasped into your mouth. He threw his head back and shoved his hand between your legs. He pulled aside the crotch of your pants and slid his fingers along your folds. He teased you and cradled your face as he kissed you again. Your legs bent in anticipation.

You continued to tease his length as you moved closer to him. You guided him along your cunt as his fingers played with your clit. He smeared your arousal along his tip and you angled him against your entrance. He pushed into you, nearly taking you off the table as he gripped your chin and nibbled at your bottom lip.

He thrust as you teetered on the edge, his thumb pressed to your bud. You moaned and hung your head back. He hummed as his hand slipped down to your neck and his thick fingers spread over your throat. He held you firmly, as if he were tempted to squeeze as he rocked. You felt the pressure threaten for an instant and he let out a heavy breath. His hand fell to your chest and he fondled you as his hips kept a steady rhythm.

You arched your back and kept a hand on the table as you moved with him. He rubbed your clit as he pulled your dress down below your tits. He tweaked your nipple and buried his face in your neck. You panted as you bent your legs around him and welcomed him even deeper.

He grunted loudly through laboured breaths as the fabric of your clothing caught and clung between your bodies. You grasped the back of his neck as he plunged into you over and over. Your core thrummed and bumps rose along your skin. You whined as your orgasm blossomed and fell over you in a haze. Your eyes rolled back and you held onto Steve desperately as you longed for more.

He pushed you back until you were against the wall and snaked his hand under your leg. He pushed your knee up so that your foot was by his head and slammed into you. He pinned you and rutted with eager growls. Your lashes fluttered and you stared back at his fiery blue eyes. He watched you as you writhed and whimpered.

He leaned his forehead against yours and his hot breath surrounded you. He groaned and muffled his climax as it shook his body. He jerked into you sharply as he came and the table knocked the wall with each tilt of his hips. He kept on until he was breathless and you were splayed and tender around him.

He brought two fingers up under your chin and kissed you. His hand fell and he played with the loose strap of your dress as it sagged down your arm.

“Should we take this to the bedroom?” He asked as he b`rushed his nose against yours.

“You think you’ll make it that far,” you murmured.

“We’ll get there,” he lifted you and kept you around him. “Eventually.”

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bloody and raw but I swear it is sweet #fic #series #dark!fic #dark fic #mcu #marvel #captain america

284 notes · View notes

plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms · 4 years ago

Text

Those Linked by Destiny (1)

Summary: Bucky, Sam, and Natasha are on a mission to once again defeat Hydra who this time had opened a time portal that unleashed monsters and beasts that were extinct for centuries for good reason. On the way, they try to recruit the only remaining person who had any knowledge on how to defeat these creatures. Her kind also almost extinct. A Witcher.

Fandoms: Avengers, The Witcher

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Witcher!OFC (Female)

Warnings: Angst (coz this is me), Dry Dark Humour, Violence, Gore, Lots of Blood, Burning Sarcasm, Lots of Cussing

A/N: Hello, beautiful creatures! I’m back with a new hurricane of a crossover. This continues on from my completed series There’s More Than One Way To Start An Apocalypse (AvengersxSupernatural) but this can be read by itself. I made this an OFC instead of an xReader since I needed to be specific with how the Witcher character looked. I hope you enjoy and I welcome all kinds of feedback.

No permission is granted to repost my work. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.

Masterlist

1: Returning a Favor

The sun was preparing to set when Sam, Bucky, and Natasha reached the small sleepy town. Their clothes were starting to scratch and bite at their skin from the sweat and grime of trying to make it to their destination on foot. They had been taking back roads and keeping to thick forests to keep hidden from Hydra and the monsters they had unleashed. It hasn't always gone smoothly for them.

The Avengers and Team Free Will had split up to tackle three major missions; hunting down every remaining grace powered monster created by the Archangel Michael, re-establishing the Avengers initiative and operations, and this new unfamiliar threat. They had discovered that Hydra was back and had opened a portal that unleashed creatures that were wholly unknown to even the Hunters.

The trio was tasked with gathering as much intel as they could and searching for a friend of Natasha and the Nephilim who they said was the only person who could help them. It had taken them eight months to track down someone who was practically a ghost.

They were all on edge and nearly losing hope, but finally they got a lead on an exact location. It took nearly two weeks to reach the town after a particularly nasty encounter with a cluster of monsters. They were outnumbered and had no knowledge about the enemy to even properly fight. They barely made it out alive.

Sam sat on the forest floor with his back to the trunk of a tree clutching his open abdomen. He was bleeding on the grass and the first aid they had been continuously applying on him was the only thing keeping him alive at this point. They needed to get him patched up properly. Bucky switched his legs to lean more on his left as he crouched behind thick shrubbery beside Natasha. Judging by the sharp pain from his other leg, he was sure it was broken. The female assassin wasn't any better off having taken multiple large slashing wounds to her back.

Bucky suggested that they go back to Avengers headquarters. It was Natasha though that insisted this is where they needed to go. They needed to lie low, heal, regroup, and find backup, but they were running out of time. The more time Hydra was left alone, the worse it was going to get. Bucky was skeptical, especially with Sam clinging on to his life, but he knew that Natasha was in fact right.

In front of them was a medium sized log cabin tucked away in the forest with a garden and a small greenhouse out back. Bucky's enhanced senses could pick up common vegetables and herbs like tomatoes, carrots, and basil, but he also caught whiffs of plants that smelled like exotic flowers of some sort. The house was still fairly close to town with only a 45-minute drive but it was miles away to the next house.

The serene silence of the isolated area was disrupted by peels of laughter from a group of children that were running around the garden. Their hands and clothes were stained with either paint or dirt. Some more gleeful that they had both. Bucky frowned.

Were they supposed to seek shelter in a daycare?

The children would surely be scarred for life if they saw the Falcon bleeding out nevermind who his two companions were. His worry for his friend’s wellbeing clouded the Sergeant’s capability to grasp why this was where they needed to be.

The slow crunch of tires on the dirt road followed by two soft beeps disrupted Bucky's tired brooding. A mini bus parked beside a weathered brown truck in the driveway. A woman came out the back door clutching a child, that was practically a baby with how small it was, securely to her chest. Bucky couldn't see her face, only her slender figure and the wavy hair that fell down her back in a mess of random pastel colors that seemed to be popular with the youth these days. Her short yellow sun dress flowed with each movement she made.

Bucky's doubts at Natasha's plan grew. How could this hipster possibly help them? The low groan of pain from behind reminded him that they had no choice at this point. They were here now and Sam needed urgent medical attention. He would just have to trust Natasha a bit more.

He watched as she instructed the children to put away their art materials and wash up. He watched as she hugged or petted each beaming child as they boarded the mini bus. He watched as she carefully strapped in the baby in his designated seat while exchanging conversation with the middle aged driver who smiled warmly at her. He still couldn't see her face, but he could hear her laugh at something the driver said. After a final wave the bus full of energetic children started to pull out of the driveway.

Bucky's doubts continued to gnaw at him, but now for a different reason. This woman seemed so kind and carefree. Must they really disturb her peaceful life for their chaos? He turned then to voice his worries to Natasha, but before he could get a word out he felt an unbelievably strong force hit his chest and propel him backwards. He was forcefully pinned to a tree with the air knocked clear out of his lungs.

His first instinct was to fight back, but opening his eyes after the attack he froze when he met with the most peculiar yet mesmerizing pair. Round almond shaped and framed with thick heavy lashes were eyes the color of bright molten gold with irises in dark slits like that of a cat's. He would swear they were contacts if he didn't notice how they stretched and dilated as they retained their murderous gaze on him. Her hair fell like a cloud around her face softening her sharp bone structure and the snarl on her gloss covered lips.

So enthralled was Bucky at her unique features, that it took him an embarrassingly long time to register the double bladed axe she held easily with one hand outstretched flush against the skin of his throat. One small flick of her wrist and Bucky would be bleeding to his death in minutes.

"Why have you brought him here, Natasha?" she said, her voice even and low. Bucky noticed a European accent but he couldn't quite place which particular area.

"You know me?" Bucky met her unfaltering glare with his own.

"Everyone knows you, Winter Soldier," she sneered. "Everyone knows all of you."

Bucky scowled at the name. He didn't appreciate the tone she had when she said it. There was an obvious disdain and anger in her tone that he wasn't sure was warranted.

"Easy, Prima. We need your help," Natasha tried to coax her but she did not advance in case she gets provoked.

"And if I refuse?"

"Well then I'm cashing in that favor."

There was a long tense silence before his throat was reluctantly freed. He rubbed the shallow angry line it had left. The woman with cat-like eyes sighed as she swung the large weapon to hook over one shoulder like it weighed nothing. She rolled her eyes before she turned and gestured for you all to follow.

Bucky noted how Natasha's shoulders sagged in relief. She was worried that her contact might decline. They each took one of Sam's sides and practically hauled his barely conscious form to the cabin. They followed the woman into her home, the receding skyline bouncing light and shadow on her figure. It wasn't even ten minutes ago that Bucky was hesitant to disrupt this woman's very normal life, but normal people don't just carry battle axes let alone have the skill to wield it.

"Natasha," he whispered. "What exactly is she?"

Natasha had told them a little about Witchers in between dashing from town to town, but it amused Prima that Bucky was still thoroughly surprised when they actually met her. Clearly she didn't go into the specifics.

He could hear the smirk in her tone despite still having her back to them. She had heard his hushed question despite walking far ahead of them and decided to answer.

"Perhaps we can discuss my nature when your friend is no longer seeping Water Hag poison from his wounds."

"So that's what that thing was. How do you know it's Water Hag poison?" Natasha grunted under Sam's weight.

"I can smell it and that's the only reason I'm granting you this favor."

Prima rushed inside her home ahead of her guests, going quickly to the kitchen to pull out a large tarpaulin from under the sink. She was definitely going to help them but that didn't mean she was going to damn well leave an Avenger to bleed all over her precious furniture.

She opened the chest that doubled as a coffee table and pulled out thick worn blankets. She was already laying these out on the floor by the fireplace by the time the rest of them came through the front door.

Bucky surveyed the room as he entered. It was a force of habit to commit every detail to memory when entering a new environment. Normally it could mean life or death, but in this instance it was pure curiosity with a healthy mix of suspicion.

From the outside, the cabin had looked a decent size but from the inside it looked much bigger. He thought that perhaps it was too much space for someone he presumed was living alone.

The house was a mixture of modern and rustic decorated in wood, metal, and splashes of vibrant color here and there. A gray short hair cat perked up in attention from its bedding as they entered. The main floor was open with no walls dividing areas and a set of stairs led to a spacious loft that again had no partitions. Large windows lined the walls providing an almost 360 degree view to the outside. It was almost like being in a glass box, but he knew for a fact that those windows were heavily tinted outside providing the utmost privacy. The state of the home told Bucky a lot about its owner.

"Lay him down here," Prima said pointing to the makeshift cot. "It's best he is by the fire. We need to keep him warm."

Natasha and Bucky gently laid down their friend as instructed. Sam groaned as the material pressed on his injuries and Natasha made quick work of cutting him out of his ruined tactical gear with her knife. His body relaxed the slightest bit after being freed but this also meant that his wounds opened again to spill more of his blood on the tarpaulin.

"It's worse than I thought," Prima murmured. "Take this and apply pressure to the worst of it. I must prepare a few things."

Natasha nodded as she took the towels from her. She rushed through the back door and from its opening, Bucky could see that she went straight into her greenhouse. She was back within minutes carrying a small woven tray filled with plants he couldn't even begin to identify. The cat followed closely on her heels, the small bell on its neck ringing softly.

She headed straight for the other end of the room to what he initially thought was a library and craft area. Looking at it closely now he could see not only books but a wide array of jars, bottles, and small boxes. She grabbed two containers from the shelves and dropped its contents into a wooden bowl. She began mashing and mixing them together quickly before pouring the strange yellowish liquid into glass vials. She grabbed a few more bottles from the shelves before making her way to kneel by Sam's head.

"Help me sit him up. He needs to drink this."

"I'm not sure about this, Nat," came Bucky's worried tone as he eyed their host with narrowed eyes.

"Bucky!" Nat warned. They didn't have time for this.

"What the hell is even in that?"

"Sergeant Barnes, would you like me to educate you on the finer points of alchemy before or after we save your dying friend?" Prima argued, her jaw clenching. "Clock is ticking, Sergeant. The choice may well be taken from you soon."

Bucky's teeth gritted together as his whole body tensed with the decision. His brow was in knots, but ultimately he knew there was only one decision to make. He cursed under his breath but moved to heave Sam into a sitting position.

Prima uncorked one of the bottles and tipped it over Sam's lips carefully making sure that he took every drop. His face scrunched at the taste but his eyes remained closed, too exhausted to open them. His breathing started to speed up until they were shallow huffs and his temperature steadily rose.

"What the hell's happening to him?" Bucky fumed but Prima held out her hand to halt him as she carefully watched Sam's reactions with her strange cat eyes that were now narrowed into slits.

The air in the room was thick with tension and the only sounds were that of Sam's heavy breathing that was rapidly growing more laborious. When it seemed like he was at the height of his torment, Prima acted fast and shoved a second vial of clear liquid to his lips. He almost choked on the liquid but by some grace of the gods he managed to swallow it all.

After the last drop had gone down his throat, his eyes shot wide open before fluttering close as he dropped unconscious against the pillows. Bucky panicked when he couldn't hear his heartbeat and was about to lash out at Prima again when suddenly a faint thump that was fighting to get steadier met his ears in a manner that was uniquely stubborn like Sam.

Prima took a hand to feel his sweaty face and was relieved to find that his temperature was dropping closer to normal. They were past the worst of it now and she was grateful he took well to the potions. It was a gamble. Humans were not meant to take in Witcher brews. She could have just as easily killed him.

"He should be fine by morning. We must allow the potions do the work for now. I'll keep watch in case he needs another dose."

She grabbed one of the other bottles in her stash and tossed one to Natasha who easily caught it. The assassin raised a quizzical brow at her.

"Take only a small sip, Natasha. Pour the rest of it in the bath upstairs and take a long soak. It should help close up your wounds. You are welcome to rummage through my drawers for clean clothes."

"What happens if she takes more?" Bucky asked.

"Well all her injuries and even scars from her childhood will cease to exist. Every broken bone and illness will be cured," she shrugged as she relaxed against a wall stretching out her legs in front of her. She closed her eyes to allow the tension of the last hour to ease off her body as she absentmindedly stroked the cat that had now curled up contentedly beside her.

"That doesn't sound so bad," Natasha mused before carefully taking only the small sip she recommended.

"And then you die," the Witcher chuckled allowing a sharper than usual canine to peak out from her smile.

Bucky was not amused despite Natasha chuckling at the comment before making her way up the stairs. He was understandably wary of anything chemical to be put inside his body after what Hydra had done to him. Their host seemed to somehow sense this so made no move to offer him any concoction for his injuries.

"Bathroom's through the door behind you should you fancy a shower, Sergeant. There should be clothes in the cupboards too but they might be a tad tight. I'll go into town in the morning to purchase more appropriate wear for you and your friend. First aid kit is under the sink."

Bucky gave a small nod as he silently walked to the door she gestured to. As he meticulously washed the dirt and fatigue from his body, he found his thoughts straying to their unusual host. He had realized that her accent was classic old European, with the kind of vocabulary that prim and proper upper-class citizens used. What did not make sense though was how a European socialite would have the practiced ease of wielding a battle axe. Her cat eyes alone tipped him off that she was not merely human. The more he thought about it, the more everything he knew so far contradicted with each other. He was no closer to figuring her out when he stepped out of the bathroom adjusting the shirt and jeans that clung to him.

He saw the Witcher sound asleep on the floor, her head lolled to the side and her mouth softly parted. There were a million questions he wanted to ask her, but he couldn't bring himself to disrupt her peaceful sleep. He instead made his way to crash on the sofa. Sleep came to him as soon as his head met the arm rest. He drifted off with the Witcher's eerie eyes the last on his mind and a nagging feeling that there was something about her that was strangely familiar to him.

Masterlist | Tags are Open

67 notes · View notes

bigfrozenfan-fanfics · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 07 - Mattias and Halima

Links: Chapter overview, Character list, Map, Glossar Rating: M over all Publishing cycle: each Friday on (link)

Remarks: all my chapters contain carefully selected music tracks. It’s your own decision if you want to use them or not while reading. The purpose is to musically support the respective mood of the plot. If you can please use a browser for reading (not the Tumblr app) due to the text formatting.

youtube

It was just before sunset when they reached Arendelle. Mattias' timing had been correct. They rode right through the upper rock gate and all the splendour of their homeland opened before them. When they left two days ago they still had the journey ahead of them and did not look back. But now they had Arendelle in front of them and the view from up here was overwhelming. The fields on the mountain slopes glowed in intense colours, from the gold of the wheat, through rich green and yellow of different crops for humans and animals, to a bright mixture of colours from the many fields of flowers used for decoration and for sale in shops and at the market. In the harbour the ships and boats rocked in the soft, warm breeze and behind the majestic castle of the royal family, bathed in the orange light of the setting sun, the calm waters of the Arenfjord glittered.

Mattias could not tear himself away from the sight and gently brought his horse to a halt. Halima did the same and looked over to him. He had a dreamy expression on his face and she had to smile. She could understand his feelings, as harvest time was approaching and his homeland showed itself to him in all its beauty and fertility. She was looking forward to the harvest festival. This time they would celebrate it together.

Finally they rode up slowly and they heard the bell at the clock tower in the distance strike seven times. On the way down they passed Halima's cozy little cottage and they reined the horses. Mattias jumped boldly out of the saddle and walked around the horse to help Halima get off.

“Mattias! You jump off your horse as if you were still the lieutenant from back then. Remember that you are not young anymore. You could easily sprain your ankle,” she said laughing and shook her head over his exuberance.

He grinned and helped her dismount. “Don't worry, dearest, I'm not that old.” They held each other in their arms and looked at one another in love. Time seemed to stand still for a moment. Then he kissed her tenderly and she lifted one foot in rapture.

When they separated again he gave her a last short kiss on her cheek as a farewell. “I have to ride to the castle now to take care of everything before nightfall. I will see you later. I'll pick you up for dinner.”

“All right, darling. I'll just go down to the library and drop off some books. I'd forgotten to bring them back before we left. I hope it's still open. I'll see you later.”

He got back on his horse, put the other one on a leash and waved to her as he rode off. She waved back and gazed after him till he vanished behind the next corner of the houses. Then she went inside to get the books.

~~~

As he had passed through the castle gate, he handed the horses over to a stable boy who was just passing by, and was about to go through the front door of the castle when the captain of the guard approached him.

“General Mattias. May I have a word, please?” He saluted him and Mattias nodded.

“What's it, Captain Einar?”

“Well, I ... am a little confused. I see you, but where are the queen and her fiancé? Has something happened?” His gaze showed a mixture of amazement and concern, but Mattias also noticed a slight hint of anger on his face.

“You have nothing to worry about. She is well and she is still with her sister, Elsa. She'll be back in two days.”

“With all due respect, Sir, but you left without any protection from her guards and now you're returning alone? That's-“

“Irresponsible, you mean?” Mattias gruffly interrupted the young, overzealous captain of the royal guard. But he looked at him favorably. “She is in the best of hands with Elsa, no bodyguard in the world could protect her better than she. Have you forgotten what she did last autumn to save us all from the flood? Well ...?” He looked at him, waiting.

The captain became a little pale around the nose and stuttered, unsure what to answer, “Um ... yes, well ... in that sense, of course, you're right, Sir, I just thought I ... I mean ...”

“That's all right, Captain Einar. You're just doing your duty and being very observant, that's fine. Keep up the good work. But if you'll excuse me now, I have important business to attend to.” Mattias turned and left the captain stood speechless.

~~~

Of course, it had only been half the truth and he had to lie partly; Mattias thought, but in this situation it was necessary not to tell the captain everything.

In the following hour he called together some of the older councillors who were still faithfully carrying out their duties in Queen Elsa's time and informed them of the precarious situation. He instructed everyone to keep it under wraps and to treat the matter as confidential. Everyone agreed without reservation. On most faces there was great concern and some asked about the condition of their Queen Anna. He answered their questions in concise words, but made it clear to them that a lengthy discussion would have to wait until their return.

He then went to the royal physician and asked him to prepare everything necessary and to look for answers for Elsa's condition. He did not need to tell a doctor about his duty of confidentiality. The physician nodded and hurried away to look for precedents in his textbooks.

Finally, only one thing remained to be done. He had to find two reliable people to accompany him and he already knew who.

When he stepped outside again it had already become dark and the courtyard was bathed in the flickering light of the fire bowls and some big torches. He had fresh horses brought and rode to his home. However, on the way he stopped briefly to visit two of his old comrades who were locked up with him in the Enchanted Forest. He could trust them absolutely. Among them was a woman who was supposed to take care of suitable camouflage clothes for Elsa. He gave the man the order to get an inconspicuous wagon, some ranged weapons, food and everything else for such an action. Both of them did not ask any questions and immediately took care of this responsible task, with the intention not to arouse any suspicion.

Arriving at home, he threw on fresh clothes suitable for a dinner. After his return last autumn he had to take care of a completely new wardrobe, because he simply did not fit into the old clothes anymore. He always took care of a tidy appearance, especially now, because of Halima. He took one last look in the mirror before leaving the house again.

~~~

youtube

The host cleared away the leftovers of their dinner while they leaned back contentedly. He enquired how it had tasted to them.

“That was delicious,” enthused Halima, smiling at the host and wiped the corner of her mouth with the tip of a napkin. “Compliments to the cook,” she added as he left. Her eyes lit up at Mattias, who rubbed his belly with satiation.

“I must have overdone it a bit with the portion,” he giggled and reached for his glass of red wine. “To your health, Halima.”

“To us, Mattias,” she said as she lifted her glass, toasting with him, while they looked each other in the eyes.

A short time later, they went for their walk, as previously planned. It was a starry night and Arenfjord glittered silvery in the bright moonlight. Down in the village all the lanterns were lit and from up here you could see that the taverns were very busy, now and then even the laughter of some guests came up here.

“How did it go at the castle?” Halima asked abruptly.

“Good. Everything is arranged and prepared. All is according to plan.”

“What time are you leaving tomorrow?”

“Before sunrise. On the one hand, we gain some time, because of the vehicle and on the other hand, there is hardly anyone on the streets and we will probably come out unnoticed.” He paused. “How was it with you? Was the library still open?”

“Yes, barely. Mr. Oddvar was just about to close, but I was able to return the books.”

They sat down in the grass and Mattias put an arm around her. Halima looked at him and then rested her head on his shoulder. They both remained silent and enjoyed their romantic evening on the hill above Arendelle for a long time.

~~~

Kristoff had woken up in the middle of the night because Anna was snoring loudly. It was still dark so he closed his eyes again. How would it be once they were married and he would have to sleep in their bed from now on; he thought. Then he grinned. He hadn't known that about Anna yet.

He recalled last night before his inner eyes. They had talked for a long time about what Anna had seen, and he had tried to convince her that what she had observed did not necessarily have to be true. Perhaps this impression was troubling. At some point she had calmed down again and he went out to get them both a warm dinner, which they then consumed silently inside the hut.

Afterwards she had prepared herself for the night while he turned his back on her for decency. She did not want to sleep alone and asked him to lie beside her. Inside the kota it was quite warm and so he asked if she would mind if he took off his thick leather tunic. She grinned at him and shook her head. It hadn't taken long then and she snuggled up comfortably against him. Through her thin nightdress he felt her warmth on his naked upper body, his hand lay light and tenderly above her waist. He enjoyed feeling her closeness in this way. Her slender, warm body seemed so fragile at this moment, but he knew that it was not so. If she wanted to, she could unleash an unimagined strength, not to mention her willpower and her sometimes almost unbearable pig-headedness. But at the moment all he felt was her softness and warm breath on his chest, her gentle hand on his back and her hair tickling his cheek. Sometimes she hummed softly and contentedly when she moved.

Finally her breath became more regular and she fell asleep. This night could last forever if he had his way; he thought, if only there wasn't this little thing that she snores such like she does now. But at some point he got so tired that it didn't bother him anymore and he fell back asleep with a broad smile on his face.

~~~

It was already after midnight when Honeymaren stepped out of Elsa's kota and almost silently closed the flap behind her. Elsa had fallen asleep at some point and she didn't want to wake her up.

She looked up and watched the twinkling stars in the cloudless night sky. The moon had already set and so she was now standing there in deep black darkness. “Crap,” she whispered softly to herself and turned towards her own kota by feeling. She knew that she would also find the way blindly and it was not far away. Nevertheless, she moved forward very carefully, one arm stretched out in front of her, to notice trees or a hut in time.

She finally reached the kota and listened. An unmistakable snoring told her that she was standing in front of the right hut. Her parents had certainly wondered where she was again, but it was extremely rare that she was so late. Silently she opened the flap and crept in. She groped her way to her sleeping place, unbuckled her belt and pulled the tunic over her head. Then she lay down, sighed quietly and soon fell into sleep like a rock.

~~~

youtube

At sunrise Yelana left the camp and made a long walk to a kota far away. She hadn't been here for a long time and when she finally stood in front of the hut, it immediately struck her that it had seen better days before. The wood was heavily weathered and there were open gaps between the boards in some places. Nobody had repaired or renewed anything here for a long time. She opened the flap and stepped in. In the middle of the kota sat an elderly woman who was busy with a handicraft.

“Hello, Gyda.”

“Don't call me that, Yelana. You know very well I hate that nickname.” She did not even look up when she answered in a dark and powerful voice, but continued to care for her traditional duodji. She just made one of the belts as they all wore it over the tunic here in camp. However, certain details onto it told Yelana that this belt was meant for an unmarried Northuldra.

“Well, Gyríðr, but don't you think we're both a bit old for this kind of subtlety?”

Gyda looked up briefly, swung her head back and forth in a judgmental manner and then continued with the work indifferent. Yelana took a look around the dwelling. It was full of old traditional items, including a richly decorated rare gievriej, a very old sacred shaman drum, as the noaidi used to use it for their rituals. This was long before the People of the Sun moved here near by Ahtohallan and the fifth Spirit was chosen among them. All that remained of the old tradition was the soul song of her tribe. But this one here must have been made by Gyda.

Yelana looked at her again. She had become a very old woman, the deep wrinkles in her face showed her long life experience as wife of the fifth spirit. But it was also evident that she was still troubled by the fact that he had rejected her at that time and that she was losing her high position in the tribe on those days. At some point she retreated to this place and since then she had lived as a hermit. Afterwards she only had contact to the tribe through the few Northuldra that brought her food to survive. In return, she voluntarily made traditional clothing and therefore was provided with leather, fabric and all the other things that were necessary.

Yelana didn't know everything that was going on that time then, but she needed to know if Gyda had a child with him and could somehow hide it. She cleared her throat distinctly. “There have been disturbing events and I have an important inquiry.”

Gyda didn't respond.

“Please!”

The elder woman paused and finally put her tools aside.

“Ask.”

“Had the fifth spirit begotten a progeny with you?”

Gyda gave a short, dry laugh. “Are you out of your mind? Have you forgotten what happened back then?”

Yelana tightened her eyebrows. “No, of course not. But you've been living so far out here for so long that nobody notices anything, even if you're pregnant, if you know how to hide it. I need to know, and also who helped you.”

“Even if it were, what do you care?” Gyda picked up her tools again.

“Wait. Please listen to me.” Yelana sat down and told her everything, including her suspicion that Gyda's child might be responsible. Gyda listened to her attentively and asked no questions, only her gaze grew increasingly darkened. At the end she nodded and after a little while of consideration she finally answered quietly.

“Yes, I had a child with him, a boy. I gave him the name Kolgrimr.” She hesitated, but then continued, “I was already pregnant when he abandoned me because I was no longer good enough for him and could no longer perform my duties as he expected of me to. You surely remember what he was like, how ruthless and pressing. But I wanted to protect my unborn child.” She interrupted herself and took a deep breath. “I gave birth to the child some time later and Jonna helped me with. Then this king came from the south and all these strangers started to build this dam and ...,” she faltered and looked sadly to the ground. “Sometime after the completion of this stony monster, he finally came back to me and told me something about a fraud and that the land was dying and the reindeer were suffering. He was so excited and angry, I can still remember it like it was yesterday.”

“What happened next?” asked Yelana when Gyda lost herself in memories and did not continue speaking immediately.

“He took Kolgrimr from me. Said he had to make sure that his descendant would take over when he himself was no longer around. I didn't know what he meant then and I tried to stop him, but without success. I never saw him again and later heard that he was killed in his human form. Shortly afterwards the sun darkened and this fog came. You know the rest of the story.”

“Yes, and Jonna also died fighting with the men of this dreadful king. I knew her quite well. I just don't understand why she never told me about it.”

“Because she had to promise to me not to tell anybody.”

Yelana understood and nodded. She felt pity for her, grabbed Gyda by the arm and said, “I'm very sorry for you, Gy- ... Gyríðr. No one knew about your child, and none of us wanted you living here alone. None of us ever really got it right.”

“It's not our folks' fault, I know. It was my own decision and I had my reasons.”

“Have you ever seen your son again?”

Gyda looked up. Then she slowly and sadly shook her head, “No. He's probably long dead, too.”

When Yelana later returned to the camp, she first went to her kota and thought things over thoroughly. One thing led to another and slowly a picture formed itself in her mind. It was time to make a decision, one that was very tough for her. And so she got up and walked out.

~~~

---

I hope you have enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a comment if you liked the story, I would be pleased to read your opinions, even criticisms. If you want to be tagged as soon I publish the next chapter please let me know.

Tagging: @karma26 @whether-near-to-me-or-far @annaofthenorthernlights @igotelsapregnanthelp

#frozen #frozen2 #frozen3 #fanfic #epic novel #the broken bridge #chapter 07 #bigfrozenfan

14 notes · View notes

draganasimpsforjeff · 4 years ago

Text

Hunting Dogs (proxies x reader) Chapter One

This is based on the story of mine on Quotev but due to it being labeled and now taking off index no one can see it unless searching my username so I figured I’d also post it on here cuz why not? Plus I like tumblr better anyways*shrug*

"Did you check the perimeter?" A dark haired man with a feminine mask questioned to his younger colleague who nodded in response. "A-all clear." That was what he expected out of the younger man. A simple straight answer. No one had time to have an explanation during a high stress leveled mission. A man's hair was clenched in the dark haired man's hand. A rag was shoved into his mouth, only letting him breathe through his nose while his eyes budged out in fear.

"Masky, you know what needs to be done. " A voice changer broke Masky out of his stare at the old man and back to his original partner, Hoodie. "I just want to take my time, after all..Boss never mentioned a deadline." He chuckles darkly, bending to the height of the old man.

"We don't need to bring attention to ourselves. This city is highly populated and we can't risk being caught. Get on with it." Hoodie forces his tone down, but trying to remain his point clear about how this was not a game. They were not in the Slender forest or their usual hunting grounds.

This was an unfamiliar city with not that many hiding places. The dark alleys being their own source of protection.

"Syringe. " Masky held out his palm, waiting for the messy haired man to hand him what he requested. Toby reached into his pocket, careful not to accidentally drop it or prick himself with it. He hands it over and Masky grinned behind his mask. Hoodie looked around, scanning the area high and low with his eyes squinting every now and then to make sure no one was hiding in the dark before crossing his arms tightly and watched Masky.

"Okay, pops. I'm going to ask you some questions, but I'll need to take the cloth out of your mouth. No screaming, got it? If you did, I will not hesitate to use this." He held up the syringe, the dim light post, providing enough of it's source to give the liquid a shine. His grin grew wider, flicking it and turns his attention back to the man at his feet.

He nodded and Masky considered him for a moment, reaching down and takes it out. "Now. Tell me, Paul Densie. Why did you think it was smart to go looking for our kind?" he asks as his eyes never left the man's face. He swallowed, breathing shakily before choosing his words carefully. "It was not my choice. They were strict orders. I wasn't suppose to be taking up that case, you have the wrong man."

"We never have the wrong man." Masky snickered and grabbed the man's face. "And why was it so important for you assholes to go searching? Huh!? What was the fucking point?!"

"Masky be quiet you're go-"

"Shut the fuck up Hoodie, before I plunge this syringe into you instead of him. " Masky spat with venom, turning his attention back to the old man, taking a quick breath, looking back up at the man. "Now...answer the question. " He was glad that it was dark out so the hostage couldn't see the insanity that was brewing behind his eyes. He wanted nothing man then to wrap his large hands onto the bastards neck and squeeze till his head popped off.

"A f-few of our men have been filed as missing. We had some of our coworkers do some tracking and along with the timeline, it led us to the ones we suspect now. And once we find those bastards, you pricks will be done for!" A hard slap echoed from his face and Masky grabbed the guy's collar, bringing him close to his face. "You must be the dumbest person I ever met if you think your team can even come close to us. You will never find us. And we will make sure of that. We do whatever we need to to protect ourselves even if that means killing every. single. fucker. that. gets. in. the . way. We have our own strict orders to follow and we go through them. After all, we are just a bunch of hunting dogs." He grinned, stabbing the man in the chest with the syringe.

The man froze with his eyes bulging out, looking up at the dim light before falling down to the concrete beside Masky's leg.

A loud gasp caught their attention and they snapped their heads in the direction to see a girl with a work uniform on, most likely one of the local restaurants on the strip. One command made her break into a run, following her trace and leaving the alley.

"Here you go, Mr. Saka. Your usual." Y/N smiles at the middle aged man who came in here at least three times a week. He was the regular's that you have gotten to known pretty well. You were still a newbie when it came to this job, but you made it one of your concerns to get to know people pretty well. You had a fresh start and you didn't want it to be like how your life was before moving. You saved enough money from your last job when you lived in a smaller town with your mom, but things were getting too bad at home that you went to school full time and a job. You were in senior year of high school and now you just worked full time at one of the well known restaurants in town.

It was actually the first place you applied to. The hourly pay wasn't great, but it was enough and plus you made tips. One of the upsides to getting to know people in a city like this, especially with regulars was that they paid you decently. And it was mostly always busy during the day with people rushing in for their break at work or tourists, but at night it was mostly drunks or regulars or some Yelp reviewer...you had a lot of those, they never got off the company's back that you worked for.

But you hadn't messed up once so you didn't worry about it.

"Thank you, sweetheart. My, I gotta say it's like you practically live here. Do you work full time?" Mr. Saka asks, cutting into his pancakes. He was one of those people that liked breakfast food at night and you thought it was funny when everyone else was having dinner and he was the only one ordering a breakfast platter.

"Yes, well, I'm trying to have enough money to where I don't have to worry so much about bills or if I want to get enough food for the month. It's hard, yes, but that's the adult life I guess." You sighed, running the damp rag across the counter, cleaning up from the last customer.

"Just try to take care of yourself. I would hate to see you get burnt out from all the hard work, besides, you're my favorite. " he sends a playful wink before drowning his pancakes in syrup. You chuckled, breaking into a small smile. "You're my favorite too, Mr. Saka. "

"Y/N, you may clock out if you like. We have a newbie coming in tomorrow and we might need you to come in early for an extra pair of hands." Your boss says, looking over the time sheet. You nodded, sighing a little as you hated coming in early especially when you thought you were going to have a short shift tomorrow. "Alright, I will. Goodnight everyone!" You said, sliding your time card in and clocking out. "Have a goodnight, Mr. Saka. Stay out of trouble." You give him a small pat on the shorter, sending him into a fit of laughter.

"As if!"

You chuckled once more at his comment, opening the door and walking out. The air was a bit chilly and you were glad to have brought your hoodie. It wasn't the thickest, but it covered you up. So, it did it's job.

As cliche and dumb as it was, you usually took shortcuts home. The city was too alive at times like this, making it nearly impossible to not be trampled by other people or take nearly an hour to get home. With a short cut, you cut the time in half. It was still exhausting after a long shift at work, but it was something.

You heard shouting and stopped dead in your tracks. You heard an old man speaking and furrowed your eyebrows. Should I see what is happening? Call the cops? Turn around and leave? What?

But before you could register what your body was doing, you moved away from the shadows and gasped at the sight of an man, sending a needle into the old man's chest and watching him fall to the ground.

Three heads snapped at you and you cursed silently, before turning your heel in the opposite direction, waiting for the signal to break into a run.

"GET HER!"

So here's the first chapter. I hoped you liked it and there might be chapters with cliffhangers, so expect that. This is going to be a dark creepypasta x reader, so if don't like that then don't read any further as topics will get triggering, just a warning also gonna use tags so maybe you guys can find it easier cuz i don’t know how to do masterlist

#creepypasta x reader #proxies x reader #myoriginalwork #HuntingDogs

41 notes · View notes

cycwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Switching Gears Part 9 - Holy

A Staubrey AU that got away from me in more ways than one.

As always thank you to @tiny-maus-boots for always being in my corner. None of this would’ve been written without you.

Words: 11,600

Rating: M/E (Finally!)

A/N: To everyone who is still with me, thank you and I am so sorry for taking so long getting this written. Your support for me and this new version of the girls has meant the world.

You should definitely give it a try if you’ve been holding off because WIP. I promise (for real this time) that the story will be complete by the end of the year... Or next week, as there’s only one chapter left and it’s ready to go.

I don’t know if this will get overlooked in the uproar over the kiss being leaked, but here’s hoping it’s not.

And now a taste. .... Wait, that sounds dirty.

AO3 FFN Tumblr Master Post

--------- ~A~ Aubrey set Stacie’s clothing to the side and sat back on her heels, taking in the sight above her. Stacie was leaning against her vanity, slender legs that seemed to touch the sky braced to keep her there, clad only in the open shirt and bra that Aubrey had been too impatient to remove. She felt bad about that, though not about ripping the shirt open in the first place. She’d wanted to take her time, had told herself to go slow when she was freshening up. Finally feeling the warmth of Stacie’s skin had broken the last tether of control as desire stronger than she’d ever felt washed over her. Even now, as Stacie’s chest rose and fell with her panting, the muscles of a subtly defined six-pack made Aubrey anticipate the moment she could trace them with her tongue. But for now… “You’re so beautiful, Stacie.” Aubrey let her hands rest on her thighs, struck by how lucky she was that a chance encounter, one that had gone so wrong for so long, had led them to this moment. To this woman she had already begun to picture a future with. Stacie’s head lifted, her eyes opening to find Aubrey’s unerringly, filled with need and, above all else, love. “Please.” A whispered plea that pulled at Aubrey in a way she’d never felt before. “Please, Aubrey.” Having a woman like this begging for her touch pushed all of Aubrey’s buttons and several she didn’t know she had. She reached out to run her hands up Stacie’s shins lightly, curving to the inside of her knees to gently push, licking her lips as Stacie’s legs parted at her urging. She slid the tips of her fingers up to Stacie’s thighs before flatting her palms and pushing upward, feeling muscles flex under them. When her hands reached Stacie’s waist, she spread her fingers wide, trying to touch as much of her as possible.

#Staubrey #Aubrey Posen #Stacie Conrad #Bechloe #Chloe Beale #Beca Mitchell #Emily Junk #cyc writes #switching gears #pitch perfect fanfic

67 notes · View notes

deathlikesdeep-dish · 4 years ago

Text

Heat (Zoro x Reader)

Hiiii!

I’m new on the One Piece fanfic scene but I had a ton of fun writing this first little story for the One Piece of Summer Writing Challenge! (also please forgive me if there’s multiple submissions i’m returning to tumblr after like an 8 year hiatus lol) (also also i’m sorry i’m verbose i hope this isn’t too long)

Warnings: some language

Word Count: 3628

Word Prompt: Heat

You can hardly believe that it’d been two whole years since the crew had been together. Two years. Holy shit. You feel a lump in your throat as you approach Shakky’s place. You have no idea who, if anyone, had already arrived. Your heart races excitedly at the thought and a small smile creeps over your features. You make yourself sit on a nearby bench and breathe before you hike the last flight of stairs to the bar. It’s a hot day, impossibly hot and you sit and take a sip of water from your hip flask. The cool liquid pours down your throat and you sigh happily as you wonder what the very near future would hold.

Would it be Franky? You imagine the blue-haired madman, and laugh. Maybe he’d found another way to fuel his cyborg frame other than cola. You laugh again.

Who am I kidding? You think to yourself. The reason he runs on cola is because he wants to run on cola.

Or maybe it would be Usopp or Chopper? The last time you saw Chopper, it had been so frightening. He was vast and out of control from using those rumble balls. A shudder runs up your spine at the thought, but you push the thought away shaking your head. Your h/c hair ruffles at the motion, and you push a strand out of your face as you stare at the ground beneath your boots. Usopp, you are sure, will be one of the early ones, not wanting to be one-upped. You roll your eyes, your mind’s ear imagining him shouting, “Well, of course I’m here first! I’m the great captain Usopp!”

You already know what Brook--you mean “Soul King” had been up to. You laugh. You had to admit that his stuff was pretty catchy, and you wonder if he’d even want to come back to the pirate life after all that fame and fortune. It had been nice over the last two years to follow him in the papers whenever you could; a small link to your old life had been comforting and familiar.

Nami and Robin were almost certainly already here--Nami, probably off conning some shop owner into giving their store away half-price, and Robin wandering around looking at architecture, reading a book, or saying weirdly cryptic lines to passersby. You sigh fondly, reminiscing about the times the three ladies of the Strawhats spent together. Not having had many female friends to speak of before the Strawhats, it had been nice to have some badass women to bond with over the months before your separation. In your two years alone, you’d missed the companionship.

Maybe Sanji is at Shakky’s already, cooking up some delicious concoction for you to devour. Your stomach grumbles on cue, and your mouth waters thinking about it. If Luffy was already here, then any food would be gone twice over. Of all the changes that are sure to have occurred, your captain’s appetite is the least likely to change. You can only imagine what power he has achieved in the last two years. Your stomach sinks a bit thinking about when you learned of Ace’s death in the Paramount War. The pain Luffy must have endured. Alone. But, he was not one to dwell, and wouldn’t want you to either.

So you don’t. You’re strong--much stronger than you were the last time the crew saw you. You’re not the same girl that you were two years ago. No, not even close. You’re taller, with broader shoulders and hips. While you were once slender due to malnutrition, you are now toned and muscled after two years of hard training. You felt vitality that you once never thought you’d feel coursing through your muscles. Your top, frayed at the hem, falls to just above your naval and drapes over one shoulder, leaving the other uncovered. Your s/c flesh is exposed to the waistband of your khaki shorts. The leather of your boots is soft and worn, the same pair you’d been wearing when you were launched away from your crew by Kuma. The holster dangling from your waist carried some of your throwing knives, which you twiddle absently at your side in nervousness. You had become adept at hand to hand combat since the crew saw you last. You are nimble, fast and lethal. You smirk and let the confidence roll over your body. You can’t wait to see how skilled everyone else had become.

You flex and stretch, standing up from the bench and begin your ascent up the stairs. They groan under your weight and you shift the bag on your shoulder, securing it more tightly against your body. You feel your heart beginning to race again at the thought of the final crew member. You can only imagine how strong he’d become.

Zoro.

You think of his green hair, and his white shirt, the top buttons always haphazardly undone. His slim black pants and boots, the sound of his earrings jangling in the sea breeze. You see his tight, intense gaze and that smirk that always weakened your knees. The knot in your stomach tangles more at the thought as you crest the top of the stairs. You recall the days that you sat in the Crow’s Nest together as he worked out. He never paid you much attention, but simply tolerating your presence in his sacred space made you feel important.

You feel the heat rise to your face and you can’t tell if it’s because of the sweltering sun of the Archipelago or the indecent thoughts that have begun to flood your mind. You take a deep breath as you nearly reach the doorway of Shakky’s place, when you stop in your tracks at the silhouette in the doorway. The sun is bright, so you can’t make out who it is right away, but as the figure takes a step, there’s no mistaking that green head of hair.

“Well,” You hear Shakky’s voice from inside the bar.

“Wow, I didn’t think you’d be the first,” You hear Rayleigh’s voice chime in.

The greenette stays silent for a moment and then replies, “Oh yeah? Nobody else has shown up.” He pauses. “Well damn, guess they got lost.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice. It’s unmistakable.

Before you can stop yourself, you call out to him. “Zoro!” You immediately flush, but you know this time it’s not from the heat.

You see Zoro stiffen at your voice, but he quickly turns around and meets your gaze with his own.

Christ…

You immediately notice that your eyes only meet one of his, a scar running from forehead to cheekbone on the left side of his face, his eye tightly shut. It makes him look even more ruggedly attractive, if at all possible, and you allow yourself to stare for a moment. His jaw, still angular and chiseled, is formed into a lazy half-smirk. Your e/c eyes trail down from his jaw to his throat and his collarbone, a body part you became intimately familiar with when you’d spent long moments staring at it over the top of his unbuttoned shirt, wondering what it would be like to nuzzle your face into its contours.

A part you are not used to seeing so casually, was the rest of his broad chest, which is exposed under the deep green coat he was wearing, the trademark Mihawk scar that ran from shoulder to hip still proudly displayed. You are glad to see that his haramaki remained unchanged over the last two years along with the three swords he carries at his side. He shifts his weight to his left side and leans his forearm on the hilt of his swords.

“Y/n!” He replies with a broad grin of recognition. He jogs toward you, and you find yourself moving towards him too.

Zoro is stunned to see you. In all honesty, he is stunned to know that he’s the first to arrive in the first place. Although, he did leave several weeks prior. Just in case.

You are...so different. His eyes move across your body, and he coughs, a slight flush spreading across his cheeks. He grits his teeth frustratedly.

Shit...get it together. He thinks to himself.

“I can’t believe we’re the first ones here!” You say, before pausing. “Actually...how the hell are you the first one here??”

You laugh and he manages to chuckle too. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He jokes.

“Shakky and Raleigh inside?” You ask, jabbing your thumb towards the open door to the bar.

Zoro nods, rubbing a calloused hand at the nape of his neck. “Yep, they’re in there. Waiting like the old gossips they are.” He laughs quietly, shaking his head.

You can’t help but watch his arm move behind his head. His worn bandana is tied around his bicep over the top of his coat, and you can’t help but imagine how his tanned skin stretches over the muscle there. You realize, too late, that you had been silent for a beat too long.

“Y/n? You good?” He asks, raising a brow.

Your attention snaps back like a rubber band and you laugh nervously. “Hmm? Oh, yeah, sorry. Just can’t believe how long it’s been.” You say lamely.

You walk into the bar, Zoro trailing behind you and you greet Shakky and Rayleigh with a wide grin. Shakky compliments your new look, making you spin around as if to show off your outfit. You can’t help but feel confident and a surge of pride wells within you. She pours you a drink, having already poured one for Zoro, and invites you to sit down at a far booth. You sit next to Rayleigh, playfully bumping him and he wraps an arm around your shoulder. He gives you an affectionate squeeze as he tells you how pleased he is to see you guys again. Zoro takes a seat at the far corner of a booth. He props his feet up and takes a long drag of sake straight from the bottle. He’d already finished the drink that was poured, naturally, and stopped Shakky before she could pour him another. He asked for the bottle, shrugging and said that we should just “cut out the middleman.”

You regale the three others in your tales of the last two years. You speak about your Master, your training, the island you’d resided on, everything. Shakky gives updates too, about some of the rumors that had been floating around in the Strawhats’ absence, particularly about Luffy and Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro. Shakky, never one to be subtle, asks Zoro pointblank about what he’d been up to.

“Eh, not too much excitement,” He says vaguely. “The usual. Swords, drinking, naps.” Shakky rolls her eyes, unsatisfied, but you just laugh, knowing that he was not one to talk too much about himself.

After a long while, the four of you notice that the sun has begun to set. You are beginning to feel the drinks you’d consumed, your laughter a bit louder, your tongue a bit looser, your hair a bit wilder. The bar is illuminated in deep orange and red hues and you glance over at Zoro. Half of his face is cast in shadow, while the other half colored the same tint as the room. It looks almost as if he is on fire and you are mesmerized by him. He’s staring at you intently. You see beads of sweat along his hairline, and you notice that he has removed his outer coat.

“Damn Shakky,” He breathes, not breaking eye contact with you. “I don’t remember it being this hot two years ago.”

Shakky laughs. “Well, we’re going through a bit of a heatwave right now. It’s unusual for this time of year, but occasionally the weather currents bring a front in. It’s supposed to be like this for the next few days.”

His knees are propped up and he rests his forearms on top of them as he breaks your gaze and looks out the window. HIs profile is immaculate, and your eyes trace each feature--his straight nose, his angled jaw, and his full lips. Your lips subconsciously part, and it isn’t until you feel your tongue on them that you notice how you’re staring. Shakky, however, has noticed how the two of you have been trading stares at each other the entire evening. She smirks and stands with a yawn.

“Well Rayleigh,” She starts. “It seems likes it’s about time to close up shop for the evening. You good?”

Rayleigh looks confused at first, however, when Shakky gestures quickly to you and Roronoa, Rayleigh nods knowingly. He looks down at his nearly full drink and smiles. He tips his head back and swigs down the rest, placing the empty glass resolutely on the hard wood. “You know what, Shakky? You’re absolutely right. These old bones can’t drink like they used to. I’m headed down to my place at the docks. It’s cooler there anyway.” He stands up and bids the room farewell. The doorbell jingles behind him as he exits the bar.

You get the feeling that they’d been watching you and Zoro, and you feel embarrassed. But you don’t want to complain. You just hope that Zoro wouldn’t be ready to turn in yet either.

Shakky approaches Zoro and gives him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “Night, Roronoa. If you get lonely, my room is always open.” She winks at him, entertained by how he squirms at the unexpected contact.

“Uh, yeah, sure…” He mutters, flustered. Shakky laughs.

“Shit Roronoa, just relax. I’m only kidding.” She walks over to a door behind the bar, presumably that led to her sleeping quarters, and opens it. “Or am I?” She grins slyly.

This time, Zoro knows better. The greenette shakes his head with a chuckle. “Goodnight, Shakky.”

She, too, disappears. The door closes behind her with a soft click, and the two of you are left alone. The sun has finally set beneath the mangroves and the sound of crickets fills the room. Despite the sun having set, the room is humid and very warm.

You reach a slender hand up and wipe beads of condensation off the back of your neck with a nervous sigh. “You’re right, Zoro,” You say after a moment. “It is absolutely stifling in here.”

He hums in agreement and holds up the bottle of sake questioningly. You nod and he tosses the closed bottle to you. However, his toss is a little short and to the left. But you’re fast and you catch it without a problem, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Aim much?” You joke as you pour yourself another drink before tossing it back to him.

He catches it easily and smirks. “Well, just checking to see if all that training you were going on about actually paid off.” He takes a swig. “Seems like it did.”

You were unbelievable. Zoro marvels at your agility. He had been enthralled as you told your story of the last two years. He watched the way your eyes lit up in excitement at certain parts or when your tone shifted to something more sinister. This was the y/n he’d always known--vibrant, curious and powerful. Zoro has always admired your tenacity. It was something of himself that he saw in you. He admired your intelligence as well, and your quick wit. It had always been a little intimidating, but now you were a force. It overwhelmed the swordsman. And thrilled him in the same way a new enemy excited him, got his adrenaline pumping and his heart racing.

He watches as you take a sip of your drink. His gaze follows the long line of your neck down to your collarbone, which he finds himself lingering on for longer than what was appropriate between nakama. You had always been objectively attractive, but Zoro never really paid attention to things like that. But now, you made that impossible to ignore. He is very attracted to you, entranced by your confident aura that pours off of you like cool sake.

The alcohol warms your blood and before you know what you’re doing, you prop your elbow on the table and say, “Seems like your training paid off too. I mean, look at you. All extra-muscley and shit.”

Zoro’s eyes widen slightly before he laughs out loud. “Thank you? I think.”

The liquid courage you’ve consumed does little for your filter (or your shame) so you continue. “I remember when I used to hang out in the Crow’s nest while you worked out. You were strong then, obviously. But it’s different now. You seem...invincible.” You breathe.

Zoro takes a moment to consider. “Invincible, huh?” He chuckles. “Hardly.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, but don’t reply.

Zoro stands up, his coat remaining in his seat. Your eyes follow the contour of his chest and he notices you watching him. He loves knowing that you look at him the same way that he looks at you.

“Come on,” He says after a moment, holding out his free hand, the other still holding the bottle of sake.

You take it without thinking. “Where are we going?” His hand is rough and cool to the touch, despite the heat in the room. He’s never held your hand before now. His good eye lands on you with a smirk that turns the knot low in your stomach.

“Up,” He replies in a whisper.

You nod wordlessly and stand up, trailing behind him as he walks towards the back door of the bar. When you exit, you sigh happily when a cool breeze flows along your damp skin. He echoes the sentiment with a contented hum, and continues towards the side of the building where he finds a ladder.

“Ladies first,” He grins, gesturing for you to climb the ladder up to the roof of the bar.

You raise an eyebrow, but comply nonetheless. As you climb, you make sure to move your hips more exaggeratedly, knowing the view you were providing him.

He knows exactly what he’s doing, of course, and admires your ass as you climb the ladder. You really are something. He wants to do more than just hold your hand. He wants to trail his hands along your curves, feel your strong body against the planes of his chest. He wants to know what your lips taste like, what your h/c hair feels like entangled in his fingers. But he knows that he needs to take it slow for both of your sake. It’s been two years. A lot has changed, and you are still his nakama first and foremost. There’s nothing that he would sacrifice to keep that.

The ladder is taller than you think it is by looking at it and when you arrive at the top of the bar, you are surprised to find an expansive platform.

“Wow,” You look open-mouthed. “How’d you know this was up here?” You look to Zoro who hops up onto the platform.

He shrugs. “I didn’t. I just saw the ladder earlier and figured it would be worth exploring.”

He walks up behind you in all of his shirtless beauty and sits, his legs apart as he leans back on his forearms. You’re still standing, looking up at the vast mangroves all around you, the stars peeking through the tree-tops. He lets you admire the scenery because it gives him a few moments to admire you. He clears his throat to get your attention and pulls you down to him.

With a light gasp, you find yourself sitting between his legs, your back against his chest and his arms wrapped around you. You are blushing furiously now. He hums contentedly, moving to nuzzle your hair and inhale your clean scent.

“What are you doing?” You manage to croak out.

“Enjoying the company,” He murmurs into the side of your neck.

You feel his heart beating swiftly against your back as you lean into him with a deep sigh. Your brain wants to overcomplicate this.

What does this mean? What does he want? Does he feel the same way about me that I feel about him? Does he...you gulp. Does he...want me, the way that I want him?

He feels you stiffen. “Y/n, hey,” He says. “It’s okay. This doesn’t have to mean anything that we don’t want it to mean.”

It seems like mind-reading is on the roster of new super powers he’s acquired. You grumble internally.

He laughs, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear before he moves away. You whimper softly at the loss of contact, and turn to face him with a confused look. Though he did shift backwards, he didn’t move all that far away from you, so you’re surprised that you’re nearly face to face when you turn around.

He gently touches his thumb to your parted lips. “We’ve got time, y/n. I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. So let’s just take the time and figure it out.” He smiles.

You feel your heart swell in your chest as you meet his intense stare. “Y-yeah, o-okay.” You stutter, still not quite believing that Roronoa Zoro has anything he wants to figure out with you. Your reverie is interrupted by Zoro’s gentle kiss. It’s a kiss that foreshadows what else could come of it, one that’s slow and burning and brimming with possibilities. He pulls away with a shudder.

“We’ve got time.” He says again, seeming to convince himself with the second iteration. “Besides,” He pulls back fully this time, taking in your lovely face before he smirks. “It’s too damn hot to be this close right now anyway.”

#doctorgerth #one piece of summer #summerwritingchallenge #roronoazoro #one piece #zoro x reader #zoroxreader #onepiece #laws-yellow-submarine

152 notes · View notes

tolkienhorror · 3 years ago

Text

In Sauron’s Lab: File #4

Another oneshot about one of Sauron’s torture methods.

Warnings: Abuse, torture, non-con, oviposition, flaying, public humiliation, cannibalism of sort, medical torture.

Please note: This was created on a tumblr prompt given on my main blog. Prompt: Celebrimbor/Sauron, Public humiliation & Oviposition Also kudos to @sianascera for working in her excellent pirate fic with certain Dark Lord & oviposition themes first that play a role in this oneshot ...

************************************************************************************* ************************************************************************************* *************************************************************************************

Something was different tonight.

Celebrimbor shifted uneasily on the soft fur protecting his scar-littered skin from the sharp-edged surface of the anvil he’d been forced to bend over earlier. His wrists and ankles were throbbing only from his weak attempts of freeing himself, not from the suspiciously soft material they’d used to tie his arms and legs to the heavy construction. No new scratches and infections from barbed wire then, or the chance for another of these useless attempts to rip his arteries open on his bonds badly enough that not even Sauron’s extensive medical knowledge and darkest healing songs would be able to bring him back.

Still, none of that was particularly new; it wasn’t even the first time Sauron had ordered his henchmen to put his favorite pet on display like this in his throne room, for everyone to see his naked, marred shape right next to the Lord’s chair. Ready to be abused by whoever and whatever Sauron deemed proper at any given time. It was Sauron who was different. Sauron usually didn’t put his hands on him when they were not alone. It was a matter of privacy, he sometimes cooed into Celebrimbor’s split ear, silken voice full of almost-sincere sounding care and desire, before he was fucking Celebrimbor in some corner of his bedroom with that barb-studded, crooked cock of his.

A mockery of the tender nights they’d shared when Sauron had had this other name and shape that Celebrimbor had bonded himself to. Of a time when he’d still believed that the foundation of this world was trust and that it was worth fighting for. Of course, Celebrimbor was still not talking, and by now, he’d half and half expected his former lover to have understood that he never would, that Sauron was only wasting both their time.

No such luck, apparently. And apparently, tonight, Sauron wasn’t feeling the need for any privacy either. Tonight, he had not ordered a couple of orcs to whip and rape his favorite pet for his entertainment, or one of his trolls - only one of those, always, because after those incidents, he always needed half a week to sing Celebrimbor’s insides back in place. He wasn’t even using Celebrimbor’s immobilized body as his personal pincushion, as some perverted kind of plush toy to cut and pinch and scrape with the diamond-sharp tip of one metal gloved finger, casually, while he was going about his daily business. Tonight, his torturer had thought of something else to pass the time while being immersed in some heated discussion with one of his lieutenants about the next attack on where Sauron thought - rightly so - a larger elvish population to be hiding from the deadly terror of his troops. He made very sure to lay out in detail what he expected his henchmen to do to these poor souls that Celebrimbor had once used to lead and protect, if the orcs should really manage to invade their hideout. But for once, the Dark Lord wasn’t in full armor, the poisoned edges and spikes of which had ripped and punched more than one hole in Celebrimbor’s body in the past when his former lover had been especially impatient to fuck his frustration about Celebrimbor’s defiance into him. Almost plain looking, without his crown and wearing only a crystal-studded, black robe, his impossibly long legs crossed, covered by thigh-high orange boots, his torturer had one arm loosely hanging from the throne’s armrest, sharp-nailed fingertips preparing his favorite toy for whatever he had planned for him tonight. His hand never stopped moving for even a second while was instructing the very interested looking soldier who could hardly take his bulging eyes of Celebrimbor’s degraded shape, drool dripping from his grey lips. Sauron took his sweet time, laying out how many elves he wanted to be taken back to this fortress, to conduct his inhuman experiments on them. In a place that had once used to be Celebrimbor’s own home but had long become unrecognizable, with everything that had used to be crystal and silver turned into tar and smoke. A couple of those poor refugees would be left behind, dying bodies speared on the orcs’ lances for everyone to see who would pass by that the reign of Sauron was everywhere and there was no place to hide.

Celebrimbor found, with little surprise, that he had run out of emotional strength to dread these words. He couldn’t help his people, he couldn’t even help himself. All that was left for him to do was keep the one last secret that prevented his devilish husband from ruling all of this cursed world. And to try to die as quickly as possible before Sauron might find a way to beat it out of him after all.

The irony wasn’t lost to Celebrimbor that his torturer had chosen this very meeting, in which he once more let him know that there was nothing that Celebrimbor loved and treasured that Sauron wouldn’t rip to pieces, to try this very special kind of torture on him. One he hadn’t even used in the very beginning when he’d still been of the delusional hope, he could sway Celebrimbor’s mind, make him serve him like these pitiful creatures disfigured in body and mind so happily did. It was worse than anything else Sauron could have come up with.

The well-oiled fingers buried deep in Celebrimbor’s backside crooked gently, aiming straight for his oversensitive prostate until another hardly suppressed moan came from Celebrimbor’s lips, stretched too far around the metal gag keeping his mouth ready for his torturer’s cock whenever Sauron had use for it. He struggled against his bonds again, hardly able to lift his upper body more than an inch or two off the surface. There wasn’t a lot of strength in his body left since Sauron had starved him down to half his former shape and had fed what most of what had been left of his muscles to his wolves right in front of Celebrimbor’s eyes. The new-grown, deformed patchwork that was his skin burned and itched from more salt covering his body by the second as the heat started to rise in his groin despite all his best efforts to ignore the skillful stimulation.

His hollowed cheeks blushing in shame, he could see the lieutenant kneeling in front of the throne grinning at the reluctant sounds of arousal from his lips, the brawny creature licking its lips in hunger. From the corner of his eyes, he also didn’t miss how the guards by the door laughed scornfully and rubbed themselves through the leather pants of their uniforms, surely hoping they would get to use Sauron’s favorite pet once the Master was done with it for the day until his body wasn’t even twitching enough for them anymore to satisfy.

That was usually how things went when they dragged him to this throne room by the collar sewn into his throat, but Sauron, for some reason, seemed to want to make it a point today, showing his henchmen from up close how he liked to treat his favorite prisoner. With the meeting finally over, he waved the lieutenant away to stand with the others, never taking his slowly thrusting fingers out of Celebrimbor’s stretched hole, instead pushed one more into him, eliciting a new moan from Celebrimbor’s lips.

Four slender, slowly circling and scissoring digits it was now that were working him open, drumming his prostate every now and then, a sharp spark burning in his groin every time those pointy nails tapped the oversensitive spot. And there was nothing Celebrimbor could do to stop his slimmed down hips from thrusting back towards that intrusion instinctively. From chasing that blissful nothingness spreading in his soul that made him forget, at least for a few minutes, all he’d lost and all they’d done to him, even the black creatures leering and cheering at his newest humiliation in the corner. He wondered, as his chest was heaving with ragged breaths, if Sauron would fuck him right here, in front of his people, the last privacy concerns obviously traded for the foolish hope that this, finally, would be the way he could convince Celebrimbor to betray everything he lived for. Maybe he would take his Annatar shape for him again, Celebrimbor thought dully as he let himself fall into sick desire, no longer caring who watched the once-honorable elvish Lord of this land whoring himself out for the Dark Lord. That elf was long dead, his life’s work nothing but a vague memory of better times. There was no use fighting what was happening anyway. It would be nice, maybe, he thought, not even trying to fight the tears rolling down his cheeks when the dreaded pressure inside lessened, only for Sauron to thrust his hole fist past his almost unresisting hole next. A shadow of better days it would be, seeing Annatar’s slender, well-formed shape at least from the corner of his eyes when Sauron would take him, feel his beautiful, thick length slowly slipping inside of him instead of a beastly weapon ripping his insides. Losing himself to the illusion for a while that they were back in their marital chambers, that the future with this heavenly creature by his side was bright … His untouched cock was leaking white on the dark grey, polished dreariness that was the ground, both from the stupid daydream and that small fist slipping deeper into him, knuckles digging into his prostate, drawing deep groans from his lips. A drop of red joined the white mess, falling from his chapped lips from a choked scream of protest at being breached even deeper, far deeper than it should be possible, by something too big for this use, pulling and shoving at the sensitive flesh of his insides until he wondered if Sauron was trying to reach for his very heart to rip it out of him. Celebrimbor hated how relieved the sob from his bleeding lips sounded when his torturer finally pulled back, as if he didn’t know exactly that the bastard was far from being done with him. His too quick breathing hurt in his chest. He wondered if he could come up with enough strength to hyperventilate himself into a few seconds of unconsciousness, if it would be worth the punishment, getting his forcibly aroused body to calm down and regain at least a shred of his dignity ...

Sauron didn’t give him time for such useless musings. Suddenly, he was standing right in front of him, shielding Celebrimbor’s trembling body from the eyes of his other slaves at least for a moment, green cat-eyes glistening with deeply rooted sadism as he held out to Celebrimbor what he had brought for him today to play with. “Good news, my love,” he purred, pointed teeth scraping a fine line of red into his full lower lip, whitish glowing skin flushing with lust at the sight of Celebrimbor’s wide, terrified eyes. “You are going to be a father.” He bent down low enough to slip his forked tongue into Celebrimbor’s mouth, past the metal bars spreading it open, feeding to him the acid tasting blood of his most preferred shape until Celebrimbor gagged and tried to tear away from the iron, ice-cold grip on his chin.

Which only made it worse, because now he had the black and grey colored, egg-shaped device right in front of his eyes that his torturer held, easily bigger than a man’s fist on its widest point. Heat was radiating from it, and under the half transparent shell, Celebrimbor could see a strange light glowing, slowly moving like the thick very substance of evil itself.

He must have made a sound he couldn’t remember behind his gag, because Sauron chuckled and patted his head like one would calm down a nervous horse. “Oh, you’re going to like it, Tyelpe.” He ignored Celebrimbor’s faint sob at this name he’d come to hate so much just like his victim’s futile pulling on the unforgiving ropes. “I created this especially for you. And I made it big and heavy, like an Eagle’s egg, since I know how much you like to be stretched and filled, my love. I figure it will make walking hard for a few months, but it’s not like you have many places to go, is it?” With an almost hysterical chuckle, he petted Celebrimbor’s head again and then buried his hand in what was left of his hair, forcing his head up so that Celebrimbor had to stare at this disgusting thing again. Sauron licked the hot tears from his cheeks with a sigh of delight, holding the egg to his narrow chest almost lovingly careful. “Can you feel it, my love? It’s almost alive ... It’s waiting … It only needs to be fertilized. You see, I have no idea what this is going to be when it hatches. I suppose it will be a friendly, if you beg me nicely enough to bring it to life myself. It could be ours. Wouldn’t that be sweet, my dear? You always said, you wanted us to have children one day …”

That unhinged, too high-pitched laugh again, that had Celebrimbor’s stomach hurl and sent shivers down the parts of his skin that were still able to produce them. His eyes were full of tears, of hate, of despaired pleas when he shook his head against the unrelenting grip on his hair, trying to form words with his dry tongue behind his gag that wouldn’t come.

“No? You might want to think about that, my love.” Sauron’s eyes glowed brighter in the weak light of the torches, well-known anger smoldering in his animalistic pupils, an impatience he was no longer able to hide. “Because if it’s not supposed to be me, I will leave it to these fine soldiers back there to fuck you full of their seed. Morgoth knows what then will come out of that egg once it’s ripe. Are you sure you want to risk that? I imagine it might not feel too nice when it starts feeding its way out of you …” Almost soothingly, he wiped the helpless tears off Celebrimbor’s cheeks and squeezed his unprotected throat close with a harsh grip before the violent gagging there could fill his mouth with bile. “Or …” Sauron leaned close enough to his ear to lick and suck on the torn flesh, lowering his voice to an almost inaudible whisper as if no one was supposed to learn about the favorite lie he sometimes still tried to make his victim believe. “Or you could just tell me what I want to know, and we can end all this right here. I will make you my equal, my commander, and we can rule this world together. Make it in our image. Bring peace and order to everyone. Isn’t that what we used to dream about, my sweet Tyelpe? Just say the words and you’ll be free …”

Celebrimbor didn’t deem it necessary to even try and give any kind of answer save for the blank stare he regarded his former lover with when Sauron withdrew with one thin eyebrow expectantly raised.

“Didn’t think so. Guess we’re going to find out then what kind of offspring an elf and an orc breed, won’t we?” With an exasperated sigh, Sauron straightened up again and sat back down on his throne as if nothing had happened. But the tell-tale wet sound of something smooth and heavy rolling into that bowl of oil he’d been keeping there all evening, had Celebrimbor’s blood run cold. Hot, slightly uneven breath hit the oversensitive, swollen mess that was his hole. The sharp scrape of teeth had him cry out, a thin trail of blood running down the back of his thigh, giving him a first taste of what was in store for him. “Such a beautiful, willing ass,” Sauron sighed, it sounded almost honestly disappointed. “A shame, really, you’re begging me so loudly to ruin it again and again. But who knows? Maybe you’ll change your mind once you can feel your precious baby start moving inside of you, tearing in your flesh. You know, I’m always very willing to hear you beg and plead, my love.”

But Celebrimbor remained silent. It didn’t last long.

It was only hours later that he saw his torturer again, a faint vision of white and black moving gracefully through the cell they’d taken him back to after he’d passed out. A light-hearted, bright whistle was on his torturer’s lips as he lay a few of his usual instruments and jars with potions out on a table. Seeing Celebrimbor’s eyelids flutter weekly, and the feeble twitching of his arms in the leather manacles that strapped him down to the broad metal table where he had been suffering for months now, Sauron stepped close to him with a toothy smile. Spider-like fingers stroked his messy hair, down his sore throat, to his very weakling heaving chest and finally lower, to the massive bulge rounding his stomach.

Celebrimbor wailed softly and twitched, new bile burning his tongue when his insides cramped around the intruder stretching them to their limits instinctively and the faint thud of a strong heart vibrated against his flesh. His abused, torn hole clenched around nothing, torrents of greyish, reeking cum dripping from it as his drained body tried in vain to get rid of something that didn’t belong there, but the egg was sitting far too deep buried inside of him for that. This thing wasn’t going anywhere unless his torture would allow it.

And the fascinated shine in his lover’s eyes as he slowly started to trace Celebrimbor’s swollen belly and reached for the first of his instruments, let him know quite clearly, this wasn’t happening anytime soon, even if he should have found in his broken soul enough strength to betray himself and everyone he loved, to beg for this unbearable ordeal to end.

He wondered, faintly, with a mind that was no longer entirely bound to the stability of sanity, if the next months of his pregnancy would finally answer the question who, between Sauron and him, was the more stubborn one.

#Sauron #celebrimbor #silvergifting #silverfisting #sauron's lab #fanfiction #DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

7 notes · View notes