#i know what temperature my horses shiver at | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kasagia · 1 year ago

Text

Between the bookshelves

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/General Kirigan/The Darkling x fem! non-grisha! reader Summary: It was so easy for you to fall for the Black General. It took him one visit to the library in the Grand Palace to catch your eye and make you fantasise about him - a dangerous, mysterious ancestor of the Black Heretic. But that was all that could happen between you two... fantasy, daydreaming, or dreaming at midnight in the privacy of your chamber. He was the strongest of all Grishas, and you… you were just a librarian woman. But maybe your fantasies and huge/little crush on Darkling can turn into something much more? Requested by: @dreampissybaby It took me ages, but I hope you'll like it! 😅🩵🖤 Word Count: 8,2k Taglist: @aoi-targaryen ~•��♤♤•~ Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~

You put the books on the shelves, staring at the landscape outside the window. It was winter. The snow fell slowly, glistening in the sunlight. Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice the shadows slowly taking over the part of the library you were in. It was only when they blocked the view through the window, creating a black curtain, that you realised you were no longer alone.

You squealed, surprised, as your back was suddenly turned to the shelf and pinned against it as a certain man crashed his lips into yours hungrily, giving you no time to say anything.

You moaned into General Kirigan's mouth and tangled your hands in his snow-covered hair as he held you trapped between his strong, well-built body and the bookshelf, tasting you greedily with a passion you had never felt before. And each brush of his lips against yours only felt more intense.

"I was thinking about you for a whole blody month. I couldn't sit through a single meeting without thinking about those enticing lips and the things I want to do to you when I finally return." he whispers, kissing your forehead.

He strokes your cheeks tenderly with his thumbs and studies your face carefully, looking for any changes that may have occurred in the month he's been away.

"You came back earlier. I didn't even hear any sounds of horses from the courtyard or whispers among the maids that you were back with your Grishas." you say, stroking his hair messed by the air. You notice that he still has a few snowflakes in them and giggle at how this dangerous man looks so cute with the snow in his hair, black cloak, and red nose.

"I could have left Ivan in charge of the rest and set off earlier myself. They should be here tomorrow. I left them as I saw the walls of Little Palace, and actually, I saw them in the distance from the tower when I was running here." he admits, and you're pretty sure the blush on his cheeks isn't due to the change in temperature. However, you decided to ignore it and not tease him about his obvious embarrassment.

"Come. We need to warm you up. We wouldn't want the general to get sick and be more grumpy to his soldiers only because he wanted to see a girl earlier."

"But what a beauty she is."

Before you can even answer him, his now slightly warmer lips crash against yours, stealing your breath. You moan as he pushes you onto the windowsill. Your back, cushioned by his hand, hits the cool window as he kisses you, as if trying to make up for the month of separation with his one (or maybe more) kiss.

"Next time, I'm taking you with me so I can claim what's mine whenever I want." he pulls away for a moment to whisper before capturing your lips again. You smile, pulling him closer to you by the black fur on his coat.

"Aleksander..." you moan as your lips part and his hand travels under your dress, caressing your leg and making you shiver, both from the cold air and the electric touch of his skin on yours.

"So distracting, so teasing... my little Otkazat'sya, who is constantly occupying my every thought when I should be focusing on the possible war to come. The saints know you will be my sweet undoing."

Your hands land on the collar of his kefta under his coat, and you slowly move them along his chest, unbuttoning his kefta and shirt. You are caressing every newly exposed bit of his skin with your hands, not ashamed of the desire to touch, and caressing every single part of your general...

"Your man came here." your colleague taps you on the shoulder, taking you out of your 'reading', and nods towards the main aisle.

You turn your gaze away from the book, which was only your excuse anyway, thanks to which you could freely indulge in your fantasies. You take a quick glance at the general.

"Shush!" you hiss at her, checking if the general didn't hear her. You breathed a sigh of relief when you saw that his attention was completely focused on the bookshelves. "He might have heard you. Besides, he's not my man."

"You better tell him that. Every time he comes here, he asks specially about you. That means something." she teases you as you put the book back on the shelf.

"That means nothing. It's just that I know most of the books on military tactics from my father and brother, so only from me he can find out where exactly it is. I doubt anyone else in this library would understand which book he's looking for." you brush her comment off and walk over to the general, who was looking at the titles of the books on the shelves.

"Good morning. How can I help you this time, general?" you smile politely, trying to fight the stupid fluttering of your heart you had around him. As well as the dirty thoughts that tormented you about this unfairly handsome man.

You thanked saints every time you talked to him, for that he wasn't a heartrender and couldn't hear your traitorous, stupid heart racing fast each time you were in his presence.

You take a moment to study his face, noticing that the dark circles under his eyes have increased slightly over the course of the week. His eyes, although still shining in their characteristic, even mischievous way, are cloudier and more tired. And if you could, you would comfort this over-busy man, or at least try to provide him with some sense of comfort.

But you can't. All you can do is watch him from a distance.

So you do so. You study every bit of his face carefully, allowing yourself to do so when he talks to you about a book, and you pretend to listen to him, right after you heard the title of the familiar book he was looking for.

After all, you didn't want to waste his time… or give him any suspicion that you were taking every possible moment to admire him.

You know that your infatuation and dreams are stupid and that nothing more will ever happen between you two than a polite conversation and maybe the exchange of a few observations about books. But you can't help but imagine how wonderful it would be to kiss his tempting lips, cup his bearded cheek in your hand, or run your hand through his dark brown hair.

Just as his soft voice is no longer heard in your ears, you come back to reality, and it takes all your strength to look away from his too-perfect (for your stupid heart's sake) face and focus on the books on the shelves.

"This is a basic position. You should have it in your book collections." you say, running your finger along the spines of the books and looking for the one he needs.

If you had turned around at that moment, you would have seen a blush spreading across his cheeks as he looked around nervously and cleared his throat, trying to think of an excuse.

"To be honest... my personal library is not kept in such an... order. It's much easier and faster to come here. A nice company is also an additional benefit, as also the opportunity to break away from reports, plans, and other annoying papers."

"And here I thought that soldiers usually kept order around themselves. Especially the general of the whole army." you tease him with a smile and hand him the book he was looking for. His fingers brush against yours briefly, making you shiver.

"I found it hard to keep everything in order in the thought process. Especially lately when so many things which are on my head."

"So I guess your library is pretty messy." you smile as you hear his soft chuckle after your comment.

Everything about this man was ethereal. Starting with his appearance and ending with the way he carried himself. With pride and power radiating from him, which made everyone show respect, awe and fear for him.

Some invisible electric force was pulling you towards him—something inexplicable that only a few people could resist. And you definitely weren't one of them.

Like a moth to a flame. - you think mockingly, knowing that everything he represented was darkness and danger. But you could see more than his shadows. Something that didn't let you put him out of your mind so easily.

"That's putting it mildly." he says, snapping you out of your thoughts. You lick your lips and nod, laughing a bit.

"Maybe you should find someone who will clean up this mess for you. It would be a shame if the general of the Second Army got lost under the piles of his own books." you say, expecting to hear another burst of laughter from him.

But that didn't happen. Instead, his gaze lingered on you, as if he was searching your eyes for some kind of answer. You stared, hypnotised, into his dark irises until he finally saw something in your eyes that made him take a step towards you.

"Are you offering?" he whispers, making you shiver as you try to hold his intense gaze.

The fact that he's close enough that you can smell his cologne, his intoxicating scent, and his warmth, which is nothing like your fantasies, makes it even harder for you to string together a coherent sentence.

"Maybe I am." you whisper back, not sure if he understood it as a statement or a question.

But judging by the way he leaned towards you, slowly closing the distance between you and your lips with each small movement, you think he rather understood your intentions...

And just when you think he's finally going to end this torment—when he's going to lean down and catch your lips in a passionate, tender kiss and pin you to the bookshelves like he already did in your dreams, too many times for you to remember—you two hear somebody calling him.

You are the first to break eye contact, shift your gaze to the shelves next to you, and step away from him, even though every cell in your body screams with the need to be close to him.

"It looks like I have to go." he says. It clears your throat and catches your eye again. His dark eyes are focused entirely on you as he decides to make his move and adds, "I shall be waiting for you tonight if you are still offering your help. I could really use it." he says, ignoring the footsteps approaching the alley.

"Well, I shall meet you then, general." you answer instantly and with a little flirtatious tone before you can think about it or get scared and change your mind.

He gives you such a wonderful, charming smile that it convinces you that he was created by the saints themselves. Your heart skips a beat as he leans down and presses a such gentle kiss to your hand that you have to focus very much to feel his lips on your skin.

"I shall be expecting you then, milaya." he says, and you think he winks at you before turning around just as one of his Grishas comes into view.

They walk away together quickly, the man explaining something to him in a hurry, but all you see is him stealing a quick glance at you before disappearing around the bend into the main alley.

"Milaya?" you whisper to yourself, frowning.

And before you can think it through, you rush to the old Ravkan dictionaries to find this concrete word he used, ready to endure your friend's teasing when you tell her you think you have a date with the general of the Second Army.

"I told you I didn't want to be disturbed." he says slightly angry, after they return from the training field, where the young Inferni have started a fight with the Squallers and started a damn fire. Aleksander frowned as he felt the soot harden on the sleeve of his kefta.

"My apologies, General, but that was an important matter." Grisha, who interrupted his conversation with Y/N, explains himself as they enter his chambers, straight to the war room.

"Next time, you can only come to me if a Little Palace is set on fire, not some field. And even then, it will be better if you find some tidemaker to extinguish the fire. Understand, Captain?" he asks madly and sits down at his desk. He sighs when he sees the new papers that Ivan must have delivered to him in his absence.

"Yes, sir." he sees Grisha nods nervously. He rubs his eyes and sighs, seeing that his hands are also black with soot.

"Bring Fedyor here. And Ivan. I need someone reasonable." he mutters and gets up to go to the bathroom and get rid of any traces of fighting the fire. "And make sure the kids show up for their night training with Baghra. That should calm them down and keep them busy... at least for a while."

Grisha salutes him and leaves as quickly as he can. Aleksander rolls his eyes and looks in the mirror, cleaning his face. He returns to his desk and looks over the reports Ivan brought. After a few minutes, his heartrenders appear.

"You wanted to see us, sir." Ivan says this, standing in front of his desk. Fedyor is next to him, looking at the general. He frowns at seeing the messy state he is in.

"I have a task for you." he says, and he signs some orders. "First of all, please explain to me how the Little Palace was almost set on fire when I was only a few minutes away?" Ivan swallows and wants to say something, but Fedyor comes first.

"Zoya is on a mission. The kids felt too... carefree in someone else's care. But I assure you, General, that after today, it is unlikely to happen again. I heard them say on their way here that they had never been so afraid in their lives. Besides, they're just kids. Good thing the tidemakers were close. As soon as Zoya returns, she will definitely teach them a life lesson."

He nods, deciding to deal with this matter another time. "Were you able to gather the information I needed, Fedyor?"

"Yes, sir. Y/F/F. These flowers are waiting in the conservatory; you can pick them up and give them to her whenever you want." before Aleksander can scold him for making such bold assumptions, Fedyor continues. "Oh, right, I forgot. David is finishing the necklace you ordered. With her favourite gem, of course. But we have a serious problem, General. People are talking."

"They always talk. What exactly do they have in mind this time?" he clears his throat, trying to ignore how the heartrender so easily suggests his blatant infatuation of Y/N. He decides to remain silent. After all, Fedyor was the best... informant regarding Y/N. And his help was necessary in this case...

Although he liked Ivan's company more, it was Fedyor who was mainly responsible for them both being together, and that means he was more useful in his little mission. How two heartrenders got together—even Darkling didn't know exactly—but he desperately needed all of Fedyor's advice after his own attempts to woo you had failed.

He may have been handsome and had many women vying for his attention, but since Luda... he hadn't really courted anyone. No one was important enough. No one had broken through the wall of his heart created by Luda's death. When he decided that he had buried too many people close to him to endure another death, another loss.

And then you appeared. An ordinary human, not even Grisha. And he fell for you fast, hard, and suddenly, and despite his better judgement, he gave in to this need to be in your presence. And every day, he wanted much more. Irronicaly, he was too nervous around you to finally make a move. Or at least one that will be clear to you and provide him with your… reciprocity of his feelings.

And Fedyor had too much fun helping him to 'get a girl'. Just like teasing the general, who put up with his taunts as long as his advice worked. At least Ivan was here to stop his lover when he walked on the thin line of the general's patience.

"They are… interesting why our general is so often a guest in the Grand Palace… a library, to be precise."

"And? Is it something wrong? Can't I use Ravka's book resources?

It was a weak excuse. Aleksander knew this. But she won't admit his feelings... especially not to Fedyor.

"It's not like I'm going there just to look at her." he adds, mumbling under his breath as his attention is fully focused on the report in front of him. He wanted to finish this as soon as possible to prepare for your visit.

"And with all due respect, moi soverenyi, what exactly are you doing there?"

Aleksander hears Ivan kick Fedyor in the ankle as Heartrender asks him this question. He smiles to himself and finishes writing the last report.

"None of your worries." he says and hands the completed papers with his directions and orders to Ivan. "I'm unavailable for the rest of the day. Only matters of the utmost importance, and I only accept these messages from you two; keep any incompetent soldiers away from me; I had enough of them today."

His thoughts wander back to that moment where he almost managed to kiss Y/N. If it weren't for that damn soldier… his mind wanders to all the possibilities of how his visit could end.

"It really worked? She comes here?" Aleksander wonders if he should be offended by the incredulous tone he used.

"She is. That's why I hope I won't be disturbed anymore. At least not with trivial matters that can be taken care of without my interference and that I can find out about the next morning."

"Does she know she's staying until the morning, sir?"

"Fedyor." Ivan hisses at him, furious, unsure how much longer the general can take it.

Aleksander swallows, embarrassed. He can't help but wonder if you'll be as willing as he is to extend your overnight visit into the next day… or two.

"General, your heart is beating faster. Do you need any help?"

Fedyor smiles, half-malicious, half-happy to see the general melt at every thought of you. You completely swept him off his feet, and he didn't even have a second to defend himself. It was refreshing to see him so... lost in his feelings for you.

"Ivan, get your other half out of my sight before I send him to West Ravka, right through the fold, without any light or Inferni with him." Fedyor tries his hardest to stop smiling at his words. Ivan covers him and nods respectfully to the general.

"Yes, moi soverenyi."

As the door closes behind them, Fedyor laughs softly at Ivan. "Who would have thought that he of all people would choose Otkazat'sya? The one who never stayed around non-Grishas longer than necessary?"

"Do not be stupid. He definitely needs her for something else."

"You yourself heard his heartbeat. He fell head-over-heels. I have to tell Genya to make him a new kefta... preferably two, one male and one female, matching, you know, just in case."

Fedyor smiles as he sees people cleaning the corridors of the Little Palace. Their general was so obvious about his feelings that it hurt. The opinion of a heartless general effectively covered up his obvious actions.

"Why? She's not a Grisha. The general knows better than to pursue her."

"My dear, in the state our general is in now, he hardly cares about the fact that she doesn't have any powers. Besides, I know of marriages between Otkazat'sya and Grishas. There are few of them, but thanks to the sharing of life energy, the couple lives happily ever after, as long as Grisha's one doesn't die."

"Marraige? Don't go that far into the future. Even if he feels something for her, he will get over it."

"You will remember my words when he asks you to be his best man. Come on, honey, let's see what we can do for our general." Fedyor laughs and pulls Ivan towards the conservatory.

You walk through the corridors of the Little Palace, led by one of the Oprichniks, to the general's chambers. You feel weird coming here. He was usually the one who always visited you. At different times of the day in the library.

Involuntarily, you remember one of his rare nighttime visits.

You were alone in the library. You sat curled up in an armchair by the fire with a blanket around you.

You liked spending evenings in the library. It was completely silent then; you could listen to the crackling of the burning wood and get completely lost in your book.

However, lately, your thoughts have been turning more and more often around a certain general of the Second Army. Hence the book that was on your lap. "The Lives of Saints."

You've read most of the books about Grishas. About how they use their powers. About their little science. They fascinated you. Like Kirigan. At first, you were afraid of the general. He was, after all, a Black General, a descendant of the Black Heretic. But there was something... defenceless about him. Humane. Not identifying with the terrible legend circulating about him. And that little element of the common human in him drew you to this mysterious man.

You smirk to yourself as you hear the quiet footsteps you've learned to recognise as he lets you hear that he's close. You remember quite vividly how you shouted at him when he snuck up on you and almost dropped the stack of books you were holding. You don't know who was more surprised then—you or him.

"A little late for a night visit." you say, closing your book and shifting your gaze to the man walking towards you.

The smile disappears from your face when you see that he has dark bags under his eyes and is much paler than usual.

"Do I look that bad?" he asks with a laugh at your reaction. The blush on his cheeks and his less confident step make it clear that he didn't take your behaviour as carelessly as he showed.

"You look like death. What happened?" you ask, worried as he sits down in the armchair across from you.

"Tough week. I will be good. I had to come here. I... I haven't looked here for a while."

Little did you know that he wanted to say that he hadn't come for you. That he didn't come to check on you even though he wanted to, but he just didn't have time. That he had been watching you at every opportunity, hiding in the shadows. He was stopping at the library to simply look at you each time the king called him to confer with him about a possible war with the Fjerdans, which thankfully he had managed to avoid.

Now that the vision of Grishas' blood being spilled was no longer hanging over his head, he had come here—to the only shelter he had in this forgotten by the saints country on even a world.

He came to you.

"I noticed." you say and give him such a beautiful, comforting smile that this week of fighting against the king and the general of the First Army is worth the price of his nerves, sleepless nights, and the effort he put into avoiding war. This smile is a sufficient reward for all his efforts to maintain peace and security.

For Grishas, his mind screamed; he did it for his people.

For you, whispered a small voice in his head, coming from the remains of his shattered over the centuries heart. He did this to keep you safe—the only piece of his humanity he allowed himself to have. The only ramains of a man he used to be.

"You did?" he asks, swallowing. He watches you carefully, assessing your every little move and reaction.

He doesn't trust you yet... but he feels that he is getting closer to completely losing himself in your presence, which is soothing his battered soul like anything else in this world, and the warmth that radiates from you. If he didn't know you, he would think you were Inferni.

"Mhm..." you nod and start telling him about a book you read recently that he might have liked.

And he really wants to listen to you. Your voice soothed his frayed nerves and calmed the anxiety he had felt over the past few days, but as soon as he allows himself, as his head rests against the armchair, he begins to feel tired as well. And your wonderful voice, the sound of the fire crackling in the fireplace, and the familiar smell of your perfume mixed with the smell of books lull him to sleep better than any lullaby.

You smiled, watching him relax in the chair and slowly fall asleep. You quietly got up from your seat and walked over to the fireplace to add a log to the fire. You took the blanket you covered yourself with and walked over to Kirigan.

Just as you were about to cover him, a strong pair of arms swept you off your feet, leaving you in the general's lap while he snuggled into you.

“So warm…” you blush when you hear his half-asleep whisper, but you don't question his actions.

You cover the two of you with a blanket, and after he settles his head comfortably on your shoulder, with his nose gently nuzzling your neck, you can't help but run a hand through his hair. And you almost moan at how soft they are. If you could, you would stroke him at every chance you got. But now you just leave a light kiss on his temple, trying to fight the hope rising in your chest, which tells you that maybe your feelings aren't so hopeless and unreciprocable after all.

Because what other reason could there be for this man, who was completely out of your league and who is currently clinging to you like it's the most normal thing in the world, than that he has feelings for you?

As if this strong, powerful man needed a shelter and could find it only in your arms...

You never talked about that night, nor did it ever happen again, but it was one of your favourite memories with him.

Surprisingly, he always hits your shifts. And you wanted to believe that it wasn't a coincidence that you two met so often.

And that milaya... he didn't call every woman a sweet girl, did he? No. There had to be at least a hint of attraction in him for you. And you were so desperate for him that you would take any scrap of affection he gave you—any chance to see how it would really be to be loved by him. Even if this closeness was to last only for one night.

He was nervous.

The hundreds-year-old shadow summoner was nervous. And not with the upcoming fight, battle, and important meeting with the king, in which he had to use all his manipulation techniques and lies.

He was nervous before meeting with you.

Baghra would laugh at him and beat him for being distracted by mortals. For letting his stupid heart take control again and naively allowing himself to feel something for a woman who would pass so quickly that he wouldn't have time to blink.

But does that stop him? Of course not. He always takes a losing cause and always makes bad choices.

But how could he not, when you were the only light that had appeared in a very long time that he spent utterly alone in the darkness of his war room, still planning and still thinking about how to provide all Grishas with a safe future in which they wouldn't worry about their lives anymore? How could he just ignore you when you were lightening brighter than the sun summoner herself?

A gentle knock on the door sent a shiver of both excitement and fear through him.

You were already here.

"Come in." he says, trembling with anticipation as he waits for you to enter his chambers for the first time.

However, his face grew grumpy when, instead of your silhouette in some beautiful (preferably black) dress, he saw Fedyor enter his chambers.

"What are you doing here? And what is that all for?" he asks, confused, as Fedyor places a vase with a bouquet of your favourite flowers on his war table, a basket with wine and delicacies you like, and goes to light more candles in the room.

"Things that will come in handy. Good night, General."

Fedyor leaves before he can react. He stares at the room for a moment and laughs to himself, shaking his head. You were going to be his undoing. People will see how... soft he is getting because of you. But somehow it doesn't bother him, at least as long as the prospect of holding you in his arms was within his reach thanks to it. He would put up with Fedyor's banter and whispered gossip within the ranks of the Second Army if it meant having you by his side.

The soft creak of his door draws his attention. His gaze is fully focused on the entrance, his breath catching in his throat as he waits to be blessed with the sight of you. Maybe he could afford this one weakness? To allow himself a moment of blissful peace in the constant, lonely war that he waged for the safety of every Grisha.

The curse almost leaves his mouth when someone else appears instead of you. This time, Alina. In a nightgown, loose hair, and an uncertain expression on her face. And although he really needed her in his plans, he couldn't help but damn her for her timing. It looked like he didn't deserve time free from his duties.

"Alina? How can I help you?" he asks instead, glancing briefly at the clock and wondering how politely and quickly he can dismiss her so that you won't see her leaving on your way to his chambers.

Ironically, what Alina would think about his encounter with you at night didn't matter to him at all. But it should be the other way around. After all, he was going to seduce her and use her power for his plans.

You weren't supposed to mean that much to him.

And yet he was there, standing in front of the Sun Summoner he had dreamed to find for so long, but now he was only wondering how to get rid of her.

"Am I... disturbing you?"

As always, he thought, but quickly shook his head.

"Not at all. What's the matter?" he asks in a polite tone, trying not to get irritated by the way she looks around his chambers. Her cheeks blush slightly, and her eyes glow in the candlelight.

He wonders how you will react to the scenery Fedyor has created. Maybe he should light more candles? Or dust off his old record player and put a record of slow, classical music in it. He knew it would help him. Many times, he caught you dancing alone in the abandoned alley of the library. There were many times when he joined you so that you wouldn't have to dance with the air... although the main reason that encouraged him was the opportunity to hold you in his arms.

He doesn't pay attention to what Alina is saying to him. He only catches the way she says his name, and he can't help but let his thoughts fly to you again.

Considering how often he was in this library, he should have known by now where to look for the books he wanted. However, he was glad that none of the librarians commented on it, and they immediately showed him where he could find you.

However, the reputation of a cruel Grishas' general had its benefits. No one dared to question him.

As he walks through the library, he smiles and thinks about you. How you weren't afraid to put him in his place when you didn't like something.

At first you were just a means to an end, then a pretty thing to look at, then over time you became a challenge, and now... he couldn't go a day without seeing your face or hearing your voice.

He swallowed and shook his head. NO. He didn't fall that low. Not for an ordinary woman, a mortal.

A mocking voice in his head that closely resembles Baghra's words mocks him as he tries to deceive himself. How weak he is.

And he would probably have turned back and tried to save his naive heart if he hadn't heard a familiar, slow song playing from the gramophone.

He froze, watching you dance to the piano sounds coming from the record player, and put the books back on the shelves, rearranging them in order. The skirt moved with your movements, and he wanted nothing more than to place his hands on your waist and pull you as close to him as possible, letting his hands trace your curves as he stared into your eyes.

So he did. Allowing himself to do what he wanted and forgetting for a moment what he should have done.

He walks over to you quietly and places his hands on your waist, turning you towards him and lowering you, keeping his hand on your back in reassurance that he won't let go of you.

"Kirigan!" you scream at him, scared by his sudden action.

You cling to him, and he might have laughed at your adorable reaction if the fake name he gave himself didn't feel like a slap in the face when you said it. And then, as you stare at each other without saying a word, he realises that he wants the only name that leaves your wonderful, tempting lips to be his real one.

"Please... call me Aleksander." he whispers, and somehow this was something more intimate and meaningful than all the flowers and furtive glances you had received for him. Than all the talks you have had. Than all the kisses on the hand, cheek, and hugs you had exchanged.

"Aleksander." you say back, whispering it, like it was something sacred.

His heart sinks further. It does a flip when he hears how gently you say his real name, the name he kept away from the world and close to his heart, only for himself.

He makes himself vulnerable to you.

And instead of freaking out, all he can do is look at you as if you were his only anchor, keeping him sane in his crazy life full of worries, fear, and anxiety. Your eyes shine up at him, reminding him of the stars—the stars that for a long time have guided him in his darkness and made him blind to everything else around him but you.

He was cursed. There was no turning back. He knew it the moment he heard his real name on your lips. And if it weren't for the damn pile of books falling with a loud bang, causing him to go into defence mode and hide you behind him, he would have kissed you right there and then.

He remembers perfectly that day. And he cursed every moment you decided not to use it. As if he cared who might hear it. As long as it came out of your alluring lips, he didn't care who heard it. He knew it would be the end of him to hear you scream it loud in the darkness of his chambers.

He doesn't notice when Alina approaches him. Or when she places her hand on his. At least not until a ball of light appears around them. He looks fascinated by Alina's possibilities and her power.

Alina leans towards him. His gaze shifts to her. He wonders if he should let her kiss him. But then the image of you comes to his mind, and he knows he has no choice but to push her away. He can't do this. Not when he knows he could be kissing you; taste your lips on his instead of hers. And the realisation makes him even more aware of how hopelessly he has fallen for you. To reject the Sun Summoner herself.

And that's when he notices you standing in the doorway.

"Y/N? Y/N, wait!" he pushes Alina's hand away and shouts after you as you walk away, closing the door.

He leaves a confused Alina speechless as he runs after you. When he's in the hallway, he sees no sign of you. He curses, realising what an uncomfortable situation you found him in with the sun summoner.

This will be difficult for him to explain. But damn him if he doesn't try his best.

"Don't." he stops his oprichniki from chasing you. You needed a moment for yourself. He knows that chasing after you would only make things worse... even if that was all he wanted to do right now. "Just make sure she will come back safetly to her chamber. If something happens to her, you will suffer the consequences. Understood?"

"Yes, general."

"That's all." they bow to him and leave. He sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"Aleksander?" Alina's hand is on his shoulder as she turns him to face her.

And maybe, if they had met a few years earlier—before he met you—he would have allowed himself to take the opportunity to get the sun summoner for himself. But now... all he wants is you.

"You should go back to your chamber." he says coldly, returning to his room.

Only to take his black kefta. Just because he couldn't talk to you doesn't mean he couldn't watch you to make sure you were okay. Maybe, thanks to you, he will figure out how to explain all this to you.

You were stupid. And naive.

You think angrily as you clean the library floor with a broom. If anyone noticed that you started cleaning again as a way to release your negative emotions, they did not comment on it. And good. You were a ticking bomb today.

Honestly, you could have seen it coming. Him and the Sun Summoner. They were perfect for each other. In every book, they would end up together, and you would just be a supporting character.

The less important one.

It's good that you realised this before you let yourself do with him something stupid, before you got to know how his lips tasted, how it was to lay with his arms around you... Although... you guess he got under your skin and into your everyday life too deeply for you to simply forget about him.

Especially when he wouldn't leave you alone.

"You can't avoid me." he says, walking out of the alley. You almost run into him with a broom and for a moment, you feel the urge to hit him with it. But then you remember that you didn't actually promise each other anything. You were nothing to him. Only a librarian. An ordinary person. At best, a friend.

"I'm not." you say it coldly and try to move past him.

"You are." he says, blocking your way. You lift your head to look at him defiantly. All he does is grab your hands and take the broom out of your hands. You suddenly feel vulnerable… as if the broom could somehow protect you from the shadow summoner and your feelings for him. "Please. I just want to talk."

"How can I help you, general?" you ask him in an emotionless tone.

He sighs, but you can see from the look in his eyes that he won't give up that easily. But you also don't want to get involved in something that is doomed to failure. Men like them didn't end up with women like you. Not with someone so… ordinary.

"That's not how it looked like."

"No? You seemed… quite enjoyed your closeness to her. Besides, it is not my business. You can do whatever you want. With whoever… If you don't need my help finding a book, then I should go now."

"No, wait. Please." he grabs your arm and takes a step towards you, refusing to let you just walk away from him.

"Do you call her milaya too?" you can't help but ask him this question in a tone full of resentment, anger, and bitterness.

His reaction surprises you. Instead of responding to your ridiculous jealousy with anger or a comment as cruel as yours, he… smiles. The bastard has the nerve to enjoy how bad you feel.

"Nevermind. Just��forget about it." you say, trying to break free from his grip, but he won't let you go—not even a step away.

After a moment, you feel him pressing you against the bookshelves. His nose brushes lightly against yours, and your lips are closer together than ever. He breathes heavily, his dark, almost black eyes staring into yours as he tries to stop himself from simply kissing every thought that isn't him out of you. You look at him, waiting; you don't know what. Every inner moral battle in him is settled by your quiet whisper:

"Aleksander?"

He's losing it. All the control he had gained over hundreds of years. He leans down and connects your lips in a long-awaited kiss. At first, he tries to be slow and gentle. He caresses your cheek affectionately and carefully places his hand on your waist.

Your moan changes all his plans.

He grips your waist tighter, bringing you as close to him as possible. He tangles his other hand in your hair, deepening the kiss and taking in all your whimpers. And Aleksander, for the first time in his long life, feels like he's in heaven.

By simply touching you. By simply kissing you.

He pushes away all his thoughts about breaking you and about defiling your sweet and pure person with his darkness. But he can't stop.

Not when you respond so eagerly to his kisses. Not when you pull him as close to you as possible by his hair and kefta. Not when he feels the same lust and desire for you that he has for you. Not when his wildest dreams are coming true.

He pulls away as he feels you slowly running out of air. He gives you just enough space to breathe but still stays as close to you as he can, resting his forehead against yours and pressing a kiss there. Both of his hands roam over your figure, and he curses at how delicate and otherworldly you feel under his fingertips. Like you always should have belonged right here, in his arms, in his hands.

The saints created you for him as his eternal trouble, as his baine of existence. To sweep him off his feet. To question any decisions he ever made. To prove to him that all his plans will be ruined and that his priorities don't matter when it comes to choosing between them and you.

"I… I want… I want it to be your business. I want you to care about me… just as I care about you too, moya milaya. My one and only." he whispers, pulling away from you enough that he can look into your eyes.

He strokes your cheek tenderly, deciding he doesn't want to spend another second missing you, your touch, and your presence. Holding himself back from kissing and chereshing you as you should be.

"And how can you possibly care about me? I'm… just me. Otkazat'sya. I can't summon the sun, shadows, or anything. I can't heal or manipulate hearts. I can't composite materials such as metal, glass, textiles, and chemicals. I'm not Grisha. I'm nothing special."

"Do you think I don't know it? Do you think that meant anything to my stupid heart the day I first saw you? That after our first conversation, I gave a damn about anything, but how is your laugh so hypnotic? How can I simply spend the day just looking at you or listening to your sweet voice, talking excitedly about every single book you've read? I know it makes no sense, but... isn't that what it looks like? How is it supposed to be? To fall for someone even knowing that you shouldn't? Even knowing that it's something doomed to fall from the beginning?"

"I suppose that's not how a love confession should look like, Aleksander." you laugh a little and hearing his name on your lips again gives him hope that he needs to fully open up.

"Maybe not. But we are not in the story. I speak from my heart, with my own words, because… nothing I ever knew can be compared to what I feel for you since the time we know each other. You attracted me at first, but… with time, I understand it isn't just some attraction. It is something deeper. More personal. You understand me like no one else has before, so don't stand there and pretend there is no special link between us, because this… this is everything that keeps me sane. With so many wars I have to fight, so many plans I have to put into action, and so many sacrifices I have to make… I shouldn't think about you… and yet it is everything I can do each time I leave your presence. You became a part of me… best part of me that I have ever had. And I know I will probably lose you in time, but… I can't imagine being without you. To go my day without speaking to you, seeing you, or laughing with you. And if you let me… I would like to keep you close for as long as I can. As long as you will have me."

He says all of this while looking at you with so much earnestness and passion that you have a hard time saying no to him or entering into his speech.

He sees your doubts. And he's so afraid of them that he decides to kiss you again, to try to bribe you, to make up your mind in his favour with the feeling of his lips on yours.

This time, you pull him in, placing your hands around his neck. He shivers as you play with the strands of his hair, and he knows that if he doesn't get you, the only ray of light in his grey existence, he has nothing to lose. Nothing will stop him from becoming a monster.

"I'm not so... open-hearted. Time taught me to keep my feelings to myself. But with... with you, I feel like the man I used to be. And I really like to be him again with you by my side."

"And... what about Alina?" you ask hesitantly, unable to get used to the idea that he might be… that he might choose you.

"You are the only one I can see." he whispers. He steals another kiss from you. This time, he presses you closer to him. You feel his muscular body under his kefta pressing against you, and you feel yourself slowly turning into putty in his hands. The bastard grins gladly as he feels you trembling.

"But for how long?" you try to hold on to one last rational thought before the warmth of the moment you share with him overwhelms you, and you become undeniably his. However, your internal struggle is just a matter of decency. You both know who won anyway.

"Eternity." he whispers against your lips before kissing you hungrily, losing control as he finally gives in to his desires, touching and caressing you as he wants with your more than willing consent. "Mine." he murmurs into your neck, pressing kisses there, his stubble teasing your sensitive skin as you moan at the feeling of his hot lips that you've imagined more than you care to admit.

"Mine." you respond, tangling your hands in his hair and pulling him in for another kiss.

Feeling his lips against you, his hands roaming over your body, caressing you, pulling you as close to him as possible, and his skin that you explore with your fingertips while unbuttoming his kefta as his shadows surround you, hiding the two of you from the sight of others who might be looking for you between the bookshelves, is making you realise that maybe, after all, you were the main character… at least in his story.

And that was all you could ever ask for.

600 notes · View notes

scarasbaefy · 2 years ago

Text

seasons

chars; childe/tartaglia

; fem reader, angst to comfort

note; this is for my bff emoly who has been waiting for this since the dawn of time !!!! shes the biggest childe lover in the world. THIS ONES FOR U EMO !

; not proof-read, reqs open, join the taglist

Ⰶ

childes life was falling apart. being a harbinger was no easy task. being a part of the FBI would be an easier task than being a criminal. at least you didn’t have to lie to your family and lover about your job.

the cold air nipped childes nose, but he didn’t mind it. he loves the cold temperature of his homeland. he was too busy thinking of other things than the way his nose tingled, or the way his hands were shivering from the lack of warmth. he dreaded to get home, where you and his siblings would be waiting for his arrival. he had already finalized his decision though.

he had to let you go.

you and teucer were playing with one of his toy horses in the living room when the sound of the front door unlocking took your attention. teucer, already knowing who it was, made his way to the door and jumped on the mans leg.

“brother! oh big brother, i missed you so much! did you bring me anything?” the young boys eagerness made you laugh to yourself as you stood up from your position on the floor. you gave childe a loving smile before wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in for a kiss. childe immediately felt his heart drop when your lips connected, causing him to not reciprocate.

he pulled away and gave you a small smile filled with guilt. you knew something was wrong, but masked your worry since teucer was looking up at you two. teucer loved you and childe as a couple, always asking when you would get married so you three could live together forever.

“i did get you something, teucer. i’ll give it to you in a minute. i need to talk to y/n first though. it’s very important, but i promise i’ll give you your gift afterwards.” childe pat his brothers head, causing teucer to cover his giggle with his hands. “oh.. i see.. i’ll give you all the time you need, but call me when you’re ready!” the boy said before running off with a smile on his face.

childe held your hand as he walked you to a room nearby. “is something wrong?” you asked after he closed the door, leaving the two of you. he didn’t say anything as he stood with head head against the door, afraid to turn around and face you. the silence only made your stomach turn. after a few seconds he held your hands, all while avoiding eye contact. “i can’t be your love anymore...” he whispered, as if he was hoping you wouldn’t understand what he had just said.

you dropped your hands from his and cupped his cheek. “what do you mean? why are you saying this... what happened?” childe turned his head away from your hand to hide the tears threatening to fall. he immediately regretted saying anything. he loves you more than anything in this world, and if he had met you before joining the fauti then he wouldn’t have ever joined in order to protect your safety.

“i’m afraid. i don’t want to ruin your life by having me as your boyfriend. i’m like a bad omen and i don’t want anything bad happening to you. i’d rather let you go than see you get hurt because of me... or worse.” he said as the tears began to roll down his cheeks, but you were quick to wipe them away. you made him look at you, tears also flowing down your own cheeks. his heart broke at the sight, knowing his words were the cause of your pain.

“don’t you dare ever say that again. we have been together for many years now and nothing has happened to me, all thanks to you. i love you so much, and i’m not letting you leave me. not now, not ever.” the stern look on your face made childe shiver. he knew you had a point, and if he were to let you go now, all his enemies would use you against him since he wouldn’t be there to protect you.

childe let out a sigh of relief before nuzzling into the hand holding his cheek. he felt a wave of relief that you didn’t agree with him or left him. he was happy you had made a point, and that you would say such kind words to a man like him. you actually made an effort to stay with him even though he thought it was best if he wasn’t in your life. he looked at you, a tired smile on his face. “i’m so stupid. i regretted my words after they came out. i never want to leave you. i now realize that having you by my side is the safest place you could be, and i wouldn’t want it any other way. i love you.” he kissed your forehead, then your nose. “i love you so much.” your cheek, then your lips.

you took childes hand and walked him out the room. “we can continue talking later. you have a child who’s waiting for his gift.”

taglist; @exciidi @ulquiorraswife

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #tartaglia #childe #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #fanfic #genshin fanfic #angst #comfort #childe x reader angst #childe angst #childe comfort #genshin x you

171 notes · View notes

fearnesbells · 11 months ago

Text

wreck my mind while the planet turns | imodna | 3k+

hello hello hi

i got bitten by the imodna fic writing bug guys.

playlist here

ao3 link here

Imogen blinks to get the red out of her eyes.

It’s snowing.

She pauses on the path to crane her neck and watch the flakes fall from the night sky. The red fades to the back of her mind, a low, distant ebb.

(Almost like a moon is there, maybe, pulling at tides.)

There is a small, sacred pleasure in watching the snow—from this angle, illuminated in midair by lantern light, the flakes falling almost look like stars. Momentary constellations, generated and broken apart moment-by-moment through the whims of the clouds overhead.

She is fascinated as she holds her hand just in front of her face. She watches the geometric ice crystals alight on her gloves, no longer for concealment and now purely for warmth.

For a while, she stays right where she is, content to quietly, happily watch the flakes accumulate and clump together on the knit purple texture over her hands. Snow is still endlessly entrancing to her desert-born soul. As the pink in her cheeks begins to shift to a chapped, bitten red and her shiver intensifies, though, she decides that it’s probably best to tear herself away and resume the journey back.

With the lantern brandished, she continues on, settling into a familiar, quickened pace as she rounds the next curve of the path. Her body knows this, by now, the pain of her sore muscles and aching bones all but lifted from her by the knowledge that she’s almost home.

Home—the stout, perfect cottage of stone and wood, built strong and small and warm against the wild of the woods. Honey-colored light spills out of the windows and glitters on the snow. A thin curl of smoke rises from the chimney, and a soft, unbidden smile rises to Imogen’s face as she senses Laudna’s familiar music nudging at her mind.

She lets her in. She always lets her in.

Laudna’s presence is unobtrusive and distinctly pleased in her head as Imogen takes an assessing look at the horses, safe and warm in the side barn. The familiar, sweet feeling makes her smile loosely as she knocks her boots free of snow on the porch.

A horseshoe hangs on the door, situated just above a bundle of dried thistleweed to keep the wraiths away. A sigil is carved on either side of the display—one in a spidery, thin-fingered script, the other burned into the wood at a skewed, lavender-tinted angle. Protection spells, from both of them.

Imogen’s key is stubborn in the lock, but turns eventually, and she stumbles inside.

The sigils flicker.

She experiences instant warmth from the roaring fire in the fireplace, a pot of stew boiling over top of it. The seizing, wholehearted fondness for the creature kneeling bent and delighted in front of it, though, dulls all other sensations down to nothing in comparison to its vibrancy. She practically can’t even notice the change in temperature.

Hey, sweet thing, she thinks, overflowing with affection, then says it aloud for good measure.

Laudna turns and tilts her face up to beam at her. “Hello,” she says again. “How was your day?”

Imogen opens her mouth and, curiously, has nothing to say. How was her day? Where has she been?

“It’s snowin’,” she tells her, stalling with a slowed cadence so she can sift through her memory anything about what transpired today.

All she has is the path, the snow.

“Well, yes, darling,” Laudna replies. She giggles a little bit, points to the thick, lead-paned windows that show the forest (and the snow) outside. “I saw.” She stands up and rests one hand on Imogen’s hip, the other on her cheek, still flushed from the wind and cold. Her thumb traces over the skin there. “You look extremely adorable like this. I feel as though I was robbed with all those years we didn’t spend in the snow.”

Imogen laughs, then, forgetting her forgotten day, and cups Laudna’s face in her purple-gloved hands to kiss her sweetly.

“Thanks, honey,” she murmurs, stepping back to begin peeling off her winter layers. A coatrack, roughly hewn, stands crooked by the door from the weight of coats and hats and scarves. “How was your day?”

“Went collecting, found some treasures,” Laudna says pleasantly, shrugs. It’s a short response from the normally verbose Laudna, and Imogen’s brows knit together in worry until Laudna leans in to kiss her again, nipping lightly at her lower lip.

“Glad to hear it,” Imogen says softly, and lets the world fall away for a moment save for her lover, who is so beautiful, and so all-encompassing. It’s easy to let her eclipse all the rest.

When the world comes back, she makes an effort to take it in.

She tucks her face in the thin crook of Laudna’s neck. The smell of dew-soaked earth surrounds her. Chilled. Familiar. Safe. She feels utter contentment, the likes of which she first encountered in those early days on the run—the two of them curled into each other nose-to-nose, awash in newly minted trust.

She had a small and sacred wish for this future, back then, held closer to her heart than its own beats.She didn’t dare to risk her closest hope by speaking it aloud.

She just wished for a home for them. Both of them want (then and now) nothing more than to never have to run again in their lives. They need somewhere to settle.

Imogen presses a brush of a kiss to the cool skin at the edge of Laudna’s jaw. “Dinner?” she asks softly, and when Laudna smiles Imogen feels the movement of it under her lips.

When she steps back, it’s all sharp teeth and sharp joy. “Dinner, yes.”

She moves to the hearth again, and Imogen follows her with a hand on the small of her back. Her eyes go to the tchotchkes scattered over the top of the fireplace.

Bones. Pieces of statues. Bundles of dried flowers.

A inexplicable snowflake interrupts her cataloguing and swirls across her vision, followed by a second, then a third. Imogen’s focus is magnetically pulled to their paths.

A voice says her name, somewhere. The sound does not come from inside the house.

Imogen dimly recognizes it as her name after the fact, like when you can label a birdsong only after the echo has long faded. She cannot tear her eyes away from the snowflakes, now accumulating over top of the fireplace like they did over the surface of her gloves earlier.

An awful feeling gathers in her chest.

“Imogen?”

This time, her name comes from just off to her side—oh, yes, Laudna. It’s all right. Laudna is here. The weight of the feeling eases at the sight of her girl, holding a bowl of stew and looking at her with her deep eyes.

“Are you all right?”

“Peachy,” Imogen tells her through a dry throat. “I’m okay, honey, sorry. Heard something—or, well, saw something, I guess. Both.”

Something alights in those dark, dark eyes. “What did you see?”

“Probably nothing,” Imogen reassures. “I don’t want to worry you about it, okay? Probably just the aftereffects of the chill from outside. Maybe I’m gettin’ sick.”

Laudna rests the back of her free hand against Imogen’s forehead, cold and smooth.

“Eat this, darling, and we’ll talk.”

Imogen takes the bowl of stew with both hands and sits down, keeps her eyes on Laudna at the fire. The tension in her chest unwinds as the other woman ladles a serving into her own bowl, humming to herself.

The stew is delicious. It tastes like her father’s cooking, when he still cooked. Imogen has practically devoured half the bowl before she comes up for air.

Laudna sits at her side after a minute, and takes one of Imogen’s leyline-scarred hands in her own instead of beginning to eat. Laudna never needs to eat much.

“Tell me what you saw,” she says softly. “Like we do with your dreams.”

Imogen keeps her eyes on her face, finding comfort there like she always does as she starts speaking.

“Snow,” she murmurs. “I saw snow. Falling indoors, though—right over there, over our fireplace.”

“No moon?”

“No, there was no—no. Just snow.”

“Think, darling. Really think. Was there a moon?”

Imogen is confused by her insistence, but closes her eyes tightly, remembering the single flake, then the flurry. Remembers the way the snow had drifted together over their things.

Remembers red light from the moon falling through the windowpanes, glittering on the snow like fresh blood.

“There… there was, but…”

“But what?”

She opens her eyes, then, feels Laudna’s music in her mind, anxious now. It’s like a too-quick bow dashing across the strings of a fiddle.

Ruidus is visible now through the kitchen window, silhouetting Laudna’s form—how did she not see it before?

Imogen’s hand, flickering with violet light, clenches and unclenches over the surface of the dining room table.

More sigils are carved over its wood. These are in the thin, webby etching that must have been done by Laudna’s hand. They’re not traditional, instead made up of strung-together foundational symbols that have been cobbled into novel translations.

Refuge. Home. Stronghold.

Fight it, Imogen.

“But what, darling?”

She stares hard at the last sigil, remembering what it’s supposed to say, what they carved there in the first place, and finds that she can’t. Finds, in fact, that now all of the sigils are burning red, bright in her eyes, and that all of them now spell FIGHT, IMOGEN.

“We have to go,” she says desperately. “Laudna, I—.”

Laudna takes both of Imogen’s hands in hers, now, and turns fully to face her. The stew sitting in front of them both has gone quite cold.

“Breathe,” she says fiercely. “Breathe. Shut it out. It’s just that old moon again. He cannot find you here.” She holds Imogen’s gaze with her dark, caring eyes. “Breathe, Imogen.”

The red light recedes. Imogen’s breath still shakes on the way out.

Laudna takes her right index finger and touches it to her own lips before she rests it against her forehead, eyes still locked on Imogen.

Remember? she hears.

Imogen breathes out a weak laugh, and does the same—kisses her index finger, touches her own forehead.

I’m keepin’ you up there, she thinks. Don’t you worry.

“Good,” Laudna whispers, and moves her hand from her own forehead to cup Imogen’s cheek. “I’ll fight it off for you, okay? If it comes, I will fight it.”

Imogen leans into Laudna’s touch, twists just slightly so she can brush her lips against the palm of Laudna’s hand.

I don’t know if it can be fought, honey.

She keeps the thought just between their minds—some things are too terrifying to be said aloud.

“It can be fought, because I will make it so.” Laudna is determined, her eyes getting deeper and darker like they do when her form of dread begins to take its shape. “You are bound for more than that moon. I will not let it take you.”

Imogen smiles wanly at Laudna’s ferocity, but feels tears gather in her eyes, too.

“Everything we learn about Ruidus seems like it’s pointin’ right to me,” Imogen whispers. “My scars… my magic… hell, my mama, Laudna. This is my fate.”

“Why?” Laudna asks, broken. “Why is that your fate, and not this?”

Imogen looks around their home, its life and warmth and light, and a truth settles in her.

“This isn’t real,” she admits, finally. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s not real.”

There is a lump in her throat that makes continuing feel impossible, but she tries to speak around it. She will always try for Laudna.

“I made my choice,” she says, the softest her voice can go. “I could’ve abandoned the mission—the group—I could’ve left, and gone to pursue this, with you. But I… at every point, when I could have changed my fate, I chose not to. And now I’ve bound myself to a path with one end.”

“Only one?”

Imogen smiles listlessly, on reflex, a shield more than anything else. Something to deflect the aching weight of Laudna’s gaze.

“Ruidus’ll be the end of me,” she says. “I don’t know how I know that, but I do. One way or another, my road ends there. I’m dying up there, Laud.”

Laudna watches her, quiet, and doesn’t say anything for a long while. It feels like she sees right through to the core of Imogen. It always does.

“So you’re giving up, then,” Laudna says, as a statement of fact.

“What? No, I’m—I’m seeing this through till the end, honey, that’s what I—”

“I woke up at the base of the tree,” Laudna interrupts her.

Laudna never interrupts her.

“I know.” Imogen hears her own voice shake.

“When I opened my eyes, I was so cold. I had never been that cold before, ever. And it was raining, and there was rope—” Laudna’s pale hand goes to her neck, to the friction scars that are textured over the skin there. “I was dead. And then I was alive again—but only partly. Half a life, tossed to me like scraps.”

“I know,” Imogen insists. “I know all of this, Laud, and I also know that you don’t like to talk about it, so we don’t have to…”

“Imogen. Please listen to me.”

It is a simple request, but it’s delivered with such sincerity that Imogen bites down on her tongue.

“Do you know what I did first?”

“Tried to find someone… to talk to?”

“I tried to climb back up the tree and retie the rope. To right the unnatural wrong that had been done.”

Imogen could not speak now if she wanted to. Bile crowds the back of her throat, tears burn at the corners of her eyes. Her vision is edged with red, and she doesn’t know if it’s Ruidus or the storm or the hot, awful press of grief and fear.

“I did not succeed, which you know, and it is something I am now grateful for. I am grateful in a manner so uncomplicated that it is beautiful. There is no regret in the fact that I am alive—or as alive as a Hollow One can be.”

Imogen grabs Laudna’s hands again, and holds them so tightly she fears a knuckle will pop out of place.

“You never told me that before,” Imogen breathes, through her burning, tight throat. “I—Laudna—”

“I continued on, after that, because I understood something that I am trying to get you to understand by telling you all of this, darling.” She squeezes Imogen’s hands right back, bony and strong. “I know what it is like to feel predestined for nothing but doom. I know that you do, too. But my love, my heart, you must understand that you cannot let yourself believe that. You are a creature of such capability and wonder—” she touches her forehead to Imogen’s, and Imogen feels their connection tug open—what a waste it would be if you arrived at the gates of hell and walked yourself in.

There are so many tears on Imogen’s cheeks. She tries to swipe at them, and mostly fails. “Are you real?”

Laudna smiles in the same way Imogen did earlier—humorlessly, like it’s armor. “Yes. No.”

Imogen stands from their table, where the sigils are glowing red, and walks to the window.

Ruidus is closer now—larger. It has begun to storm outside instead of snow.

Someone is calling her name.

She turns back, looks at Laudna sitting at the table, there in all her open, perfect glory.

“I’m here to protect you,” Laudna continues to explain, softly. “From the storm.”

Imogen looks around the house again. Looks at it, really sees it.

It is so beautiful. Messy, like she’d always thought it would be. Flowers in vases, flowers framed on the wall, dried flowers hung in bunches to ward off wayward curses. Bones peppered in among the blooms.

She commits it to memory, just in case.

“I can have this,” she says aloud. “I can hope for this.”

“Yes, you can,” Laudna responds softly. “Always.”

Imogen goes to her, then, because how could she not? She wraps her in her arms, holds her close and flush and as tightly as she dares. Laudna holds her back.

“I want this,” she murmurs. “I’m going to fight for this.”

Fight, Imogen.

With Laudna gripping her hand, she takes one last look around a home that could be hers and strides out into the storm.

The snowy path, the barn, the shed, all of it is gone—there is only red. Lightning screams overhead like it has a voice.

COME.

It’s the call she’s familiar with, the one that she hears every night when she falls asleep. Ruidus—Predathos—calling her forth, beckoning her within.

She takes a step towards its eye. On what ground, she isn’t sure. She can’t see where her foot finds purchase.

COME.

Darling. Follow me.

Laudna, in her form of dread, stands spindly and tall at Imogen’s side, and beckons her away from the storm.

Imogen blinks. The red dims, slightly.

Come on, darling. I’m right here. We can get out of this.

With the effort of a god, Imogen reorients herself, takes a step in Laudna’s direction.

There you are. I’m your tether, right? I’m pulling you right along. Just follow me. It’ll be easy.

One step turns to two, to three. The howling intensifies, the storm’s voice crowding her mind and splitting her head in two with pain, pain, pain—

Sweet, melodic music undercuts the sound of screams, and then mutes them down to nothing.

Follow me, sweet. I’m right here.

I love you.

She’s running, now, the steps coming easier, and Laudna is loping right alongside her, a many-limbed thing with eyes like the night.

“I love you!” she shouts back, out loud. Her voice is stolen by the wind, but she knows Laudna hears.

Keep running! Don’t stop! I love you more than any—

“—thing.”

Laudna’s voice.

There is sun.

There is sun, falling over her skin, and the smell of dew-soaked earth.

“Oh—oh, gods—Imogen?”

Laudna is holding her. Laudna is cradling her, really, draped over the thin frame of her body, and her face is wide-eyed with a naked sort of hope.

“Hi, darlin’,” she croaks. Her throat is painfully dry. “I didn’t… am I okay?”

Black tears gather in Laudna’s eyes and she starts to laugh, then, holds her impossibly closer and shoves her face in the crook of Imogen’s neck.

Imogen nudges at Laudna’s mind, out of habit, and an explosion bursts forth of Imogen-Imogen-Imogen-my Imogen-my girl-Imogen-oh, Imogen-Imogen, Imogen, Imogen—

“You were gone,” she says, mostly against Imogen’s skin. “We were on the road towards Ludinus, and then you went out like a light—like a candle, or something—oh, Imogen, I’m so glad you’re awake,” she says, pulls back just enough to look her in the eyes. “Do you feel all right? Are you all right?”

Imogen leans in and kisses her, touches their foreheads together.

“I love you,” she says softly. “I’m all right.”

I can have this. I can hope for this.

She looks in Laudna’s eyes, sees the fierce, stubborn light behind them, refusing to wink out.

I’m going to fight to keep it.

#critical role #imodna #imogen temult #campaign 3 #laudna #imogen x laudna #bells hells #jackie loves the lesbian witches #the adventures of a first time critter #imodna fanfic #imodna fanfiction #critical role fic #critical role fanfiction #jackie writes #the coven of c3

30 notes · View notes

staykimchay · 1 year ago

Note

trick or treat!

(Context: I ran out of ideas, panicked, asked my friend @theoldastronomer for a Halloweeny type thing and she said dragons and I ran with it 😂 also this isn’t edited rip sorry!)

Under the trees, where starlight never manages to reach, Chay tries to sleep curled into a ball at the base of a tree.

In retrospect, running away from home hadn’t been the smartest move. Chay can’t quite bring himself to regret it though. Ever since Porsche had left to seek his fortune, Chay’s life seems to be becoming more miserable by the day.

Their once thoughtful uncle now only knows how to gamble and steal, and Chay is done with coming home to new items being sold every day. There’s barely anything left as it is.

Shivering, Chay pushes further into the bark, as if by some miracle it’ll peel itself from the tree and transform into a blanket.

Of course, it doesn’t do anything close, and Chay can’t help the miserable whine that shudders out of him.

He’s—wait. What was that?

Slowly, Chay pushes himself to sitting. He squints into the darkness, somewhere to the north where he’s sure he just heard—there! It happened again!

Before Chay can begin to make sense of what he’s hearing, a low hiss slithers around the clearing and he freezes.

The air in front of him has been misting in front of his face with every exhale for the majority of the night, but now it stops.

Warmth seeps over the grass like a tide coming in. The air around Chay heats in an unnerving way. He’s tense, tight as a bowstring readying an arrow.

From the gloom a figure steps forward. It keeps low to the ground, but even then it’s mass is hulking—perhaps the size of two horses.

There’s just enough moonlight filtering through the canopies above that Chay catches a glimpse of gleaming scales, before it darts forward.

Chay scrambles back into the tree, crying out in shock.

The creature stops. Pauses. Considers.

It takes a step back and Chay is able to breathe again.

It retreats once more and Chay stops holding himself like he’s about to be eaten.

Curiosity arises as fear falls, and Chay finds himself squinting for a better look. It’s hopeless though. It’s just too dark.

Slowly, limb by limb, Chay manages to relax. Whatever this creature is, it warms the air just by existing in it, and for that alone Chay has to be grateful. It’s nice not to be freezing to death.

He settles back against the floor, one eye still fixed on the creature—unsure why exactly it is that he’s choosing to trust something he can’t even see.

Once Chay is comfortable—or as comfortable as one can get on the forest floor—he sighs quietly and risks closing his eyes. He’s bone tired, and there is nothing his weak body can do to stop a creature with the bulk of two horses, so if he’s going to die he might as well get some sleep first.

Somehow he drifts off. He wakes once during the night to find the creature snuffling closer. He realises the temperature must have dropped again because he’s back to shivering.

Not for long though, because his new friend is settling down next to him, laying it’s giant head along his side and warming him up with its own body heat.

“Thank you,” Chay murmurs, already falling back to sleep in the new warmth that envelops him.

In the morning when Chay wakes he half expects the entire experience to be a dream, or for the creature to have left him.

He does not expect to open his eyes to find a naked guy roughly his own age, with his head pillowed on Chay’s thigh, with black and silver scales on his cheekbones.

Huh.

#kimchay #kimchay fanfic #my fic #kinnporsche the series #kimchay fic

25 notes · View notes

brownieocean · 2 years ago

Text

Love bipolar, Draco Malfoy x reader

Hi! So this is going to be a longer series with multiple parts and it's kind of a slowburn at least at the start but it'll get good later on I swear!

"I could kill you right now, y/l/n"

He pressed the knife deeper in to my neck, forcing me to tilt my head up. I opened my eyes and met his cold grey eyes, he was smirking. My eyes had started to tear up from frustration and I cursed myself for showing any weakness.

"…if I wanted to" he continued, letting out a small chuckle as he leaned forwards, close enough that I could feel his cold breath on my face and his hair tickling my forehead. The knife still pressed on my throat, he let go of my arms and lifted his free hand to wipe away the tear that had started its journey down my cheek.

"And nobody would even know"

Part 1, New beginnings

Word count: 1,7k

I shivered as I walked down the platform 9¾. The weather was starting to get chilly again.

I hopped on the train and felt the warmth seeping back into my body. I looked for a place to sit and found an empty compartment since I was among the first people coming in the train.

I sat down and let out a deep sigh. I was going to an entirely new school and leaving behind all the memories and friends I had made in Beauxbatons.

The train had started moving and I was starting to feel anxious. I would be the new girl coming to the school in their third year when everyone had already made friends. I was scared I'd get too many eyes staring at me and make no friends at all. I hated this. I wasn't really the outgoing type but I also didn't deal well with loneliness.

I was getting lost in my thoughts when I felt a tug on my sleeve. I looked down and smiled when I saw a small furry creature tugging my sleeve and trying to nip at my hands. My ferret Kelmi had climbed out of my pocket and apparently gotten tired of me not giving her enough attention.

"Hey don't bite me!" I shook her off of me. She had sunk her teeth into my hand when I hadn't pet her. I gave her an offended look and lifted her on my lap. She looked too cute to be angry at.

"At Least I have you with me right?" I scratched her back and she relaxed in my arms. I looked out the window and my thoughts started drifting.

I had fallen asleep at some point and when I woke up, Kelmi was gone. I assumed she had climbed in my trunk where she had her own little magic-made bed and cage.

I pulled out a book from my bag and started reading it. Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them, I had always been interested in magical creatures and animals in general.

I didn't get far in the book though, when the train stopped. I looked out the window but we weren't at the Hogsmeade stop yet.

All the lights turned off and the temperature dropped. Screams were heard throughout the train. I saw a hooded figure floating towards me and I heard spine-chilling raspy breathing as the creature entered my compartment. I closed my eyes. I started feeling weak and helpless and felt as if all the joy in the world was fading away.

It ended almost as fast as it started. The creature had gone by the time I had opened my eyes again. I noticed the tears in my eyes threatening to spill. I felt numb. I sat there trying to get myself together for the rest of the train ride. Students were walking in the corridor and there was a slight feel of panic in the air. By the time the train stopped I had calmed myself down.

I got up and walked out of the train with the crowd. As I was heading towards black carriages that had horse-looking creatures pulling them, I heard my name being called.

"Y/n? Y/n y/l/n is that you?" I turned around to find the source of the voice and saw a curly headed girl staring at me with a shocked look on her face.

"Hermione?" I was taken aback. I hadn't seen this girl in three years. I ran to her and hugged her as she did the same.

"What are you doing here? I haven't seen you since primary school! Wait, you're a witch?" She seemed to be as confused as I was. We were best of friends in primary school before my family and I moved to france. I had no idea that she was a witch.

We hopped on a carriage together and she introduced me to her two friends, a ginger boy named Ron and a black haired boy with glasses, his name was Harry. We spent the whole ride catching up, trying to tell everything that had happened in the three years we hadn't seen each other. I told her how I got a letter from Beauxbatons and how we just recently moved back to London.

I hadn't been this happy in a long time. We were still talking excitedly as we got into the castle. We had to split up as I was instructed to go straight to the deputy headmistresses office to discuss my exchange and house sorting.

"See you at the feast?" Hermione asked

"Definitely!" I smiled as we parted ways.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I knocked on the door and came face to face with a tall and stern-looking woman.

"Come in, y/n y/l/n is it?" The tall woman said.

"Yes professor..."

"McGonagall", She smiled

"Come in and have a seat, please"

She opened the door wider and motioned towards a soft looking cushioned chair. I followed her inside and sat on the chair and felt myself sink into the soft velvet cushions. She followed and sat on a chair opposite me.

"You sent a letter asking us if we could have the sorting arranged privately, am I correct?"

"Yes," I said. I didn't like to be in front of a big crowd and even the thought of being the only third year in the middle of first years made me anxious. I didn't want people looking at me and definitely didn't want people mixing me up with first years.

"It is a tradition that first years get sorted in front of the school with a sorting hat," She started.

I shifted uncomfortably and started nipping away my nail polish nervously.

"But since you're not a first year and there's no other older students coming to Hogwarts this year we might be able to have your sorting arranged privately after the feast."

It felt like a weight had been lifted from my heart, I had never been good in front of big crowds and a private sorting was all I wanted at that moment.

"That would be amazing, thank you." I said.

She smiled down at me and said "Wait in the great hall after the feast ends, i'll help with the sorting"

"Thank you professor McGonagall" I said as I started getting up from my chair.

"No problem Miss y/l/n"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I was scanning the tables wondering where I should sit when I spotted Hermione. She met my gaze and smiled at me, motioning me to sit next to her. I walked over and sat down next to her, in front of her friends Harry and Ron. We didn't have the chance to talk much as the headmaster started his speech.

He introduced a new defense against the dark arts teacher and everyone started clapping.

"Of course, that's why he knew to give you the chocolate, Harry" Hermione said to Harry while still clapping. I didn't have a clue of what they were talking about but stayed quiet.

"Potter"

I heard a voice from the table in front of me. It belonged to a platinum blonde boy with blueish-gray eyes and green robes. I seemed to be the only one who noticed him though, so he started again:

"Potter"

Harry and Ron turned around to look at the guy who was calling for Harry.

"Is it true you fainted?" a friend of his put a hand on his forehead and mocked Harry.

"I mean you actually fainted?" he laughed and for a split second I met his cold blue, almost gray eyes.

"Shove off Malfoy" The ginger snapped at him. And they both turned back towards us.

"How did he find out?" Harry muttered while hanging his head.

"Just forget it", Hermione said.

"You fainted? Are you okay?" I asked

"Yeah I'm fine" he replied quickly and I realized he didn't want to talk about it.

"Who was that guy anyway, what's his problem?" I asked

"Draco Malfoy, he'll find any reason to piss us off. He tried to make friends with Harry in our first year and Harry denied. He has held a grudge since " The ginger said

"He's that petty?" I laughed

"It's not just us who dislikes him, he bullies people, mostly muggle born since he's what they call pureblood" Hermione scoffed

The headmaster interrupted our chatting by continuing his speech about the teachers.

Then he got to talking about the creatures in the train, dementors. Whispers were heard throughout the hall. I had to admit, they freaked me out but I knew that I'd be okay as long as I stayed away from them. He finished his speech and so began the dining.

I got to know the two boys in front of me a little better. They both liked playing quidditch, Harry told me he was the Gryffindor seeker and Ron told me about his family and how he plays with his brothers, the ginger was very eager to get to know me as well, Harry on the other hand was less talkative, I figured it was because he still felt bad about fainting.

We had finished eating and Hermione wished me good luck when the trio started heading towards the doors.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As every student had left I started thinking of sorting. I wished I'd be in Gryffindor with Hermione. I'm not really that good at making new friends and I'd really love to catch up more with her.

Ron Weasley told me about how he despises the Slytherins and the idea of becoming one didn't sound that tempting. My thoughts wondered and I remembered the blonde boy from earlier. Was he really as bad as they made him be?

My thoughts were interrupted as I saw McGonagall carrying an old, dirty looking hat into the great hall and I got up from my seat and started walking towards her. She motioned me to sit on a chair near the teachers table. She then placed the old hat on my head. To my suprise the hat started talking and moving around.

"Hmm, interesting, very interesting" the hat started.

I felt anxious. What if I didn't make any friends in my new house? What if they were all horrible? What if I got sorted into slytherin? I started thinking about how much I missed my friends back in Beauxbatons when the hat started speaking again:

"Very brave I see, also a lot of ambition.. I think you ought to go in... slytherin!" it yelled.

Thank you for taking the time to read this and please let me know if you want a part 2!

#draco malfoy #harry potter #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x slytherin!reader #draco malfoy x y/n #slytherin #hogwarts #draco x slytherin!reader #draco x reader #draco fanfiction #draco x you #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy imagine #harry potter imagine

100 notes · View notes

pbandjesse · 10 days ago

Text

I am wildly nauseous right now. I don't know why or what caused it but it is not fun at all. James is outside making us dinner and I was sitting with them but I had to come inside. I really hope it passes soon because it's upsetting after such a nice day.

I struggled to sleep last night. After months of taking a sleeping product, going without it made it incredibly difficult to turn my brain off. Plus I was struggling to be the right temperature. Me and James laid in bed and watched 3 episodes of our show but they dozed off around 10. I was up until at least 1. I would eventually find a comfortable blanket/fleece/ heat combination and got my brain to turn off. Some of it was the fear of having to go use the bathroom. At midnight I would just go and made my brain feel more at ease. I also counted my steps on the way back and it is 140 steps door to door.

I would wake up at least twice. Once when I had slept on my left arm for to long and had to turn. And that turning made me get jostled and have to use the bathroom but I just kept repeating "ignore it ignore it" and was able to fall back asleep.

At 7 I woke up for good. And James was already up. They came and laid with me again for a while. We had some silly moments and were having a good time.

Eventually though I went to brush my teeth and get cleaned up. I was shivering pretty hard getting changed but I did it quickly.

James made potatoes and eggs and toast for breakfast. I bundled up and ate with them outside. It was a beautiful day.

The plan was to clean up and then head to assateague to bike. It was so cold that James was struggling to clean our dishes. (The camp sinks here are closed for the season) And their hands hurt really bad and I felt so bad about it. They would go warm them up at the bathroom sinks. It did remind me that I did not have any gloves. So we made a plan to stop and get me a pair on our way to the park.

I took the trash to the dumpsters while James finished cleaning go and putting things away. I walked down to the water in my way back. It was so beautiful out.

We left here after James checked our bike tires (they would check them again when we got to the park) and drove the half hour out. We did stop at a dollar general (where I answered the questions on the pin pad incorrectly) and got me some gloves and that would help a lot.

We decided to go to the national park side. We had been there before and I liked the bike trail and the dune before so I was sure it would be good. And it was! Though someone honked at a horse on the road which I thought was very disrespectful to the nature.

We did see a few of the assateague ponies though! I was surprised at how deep and dark some of their red coats were. We even saw one with a blonde mane. It was so nice.

We paid and parked and walked to the beach. I was excited to see the water. We were surprised that there was a prominent shelf where the sand had blown away. I was joking about it being a cliff and then it collapsed under me and I fell. It was very funny. James was teasing me a lot.

I ran to the waters edge to kick the sea foam. And we found some horseshoe crabs to turn over. I enjoyed looking at the shells and the rocks and the sun and the birds. It was just so beautiful.

We headed back towards the car to get the bikes. While James checked our tires again I would use a very spooky bathroom. Thankfully I survived.

I was nervous about getting on my bike. For a variety of reasons. It's been forever. I don't often bike in pants. My center of gravity is very different. I practiced around the parking lot and the actual biking was totally fine, it was the stopping and getting off that was the problem. James would have to physically pull my leg over the bar. It was so silly. By the end of our day at the park I would be able to do it but I could not do it the way I normally do where I rest my ankle on the cross bar. At least I never fell.

We would bike towards the dunes. And it was just so beautiful. It was cold but once we got to the trails and were walking I was able to take off one of my layers. I loved seeing the birds and the horses. The plant life was just different enough from camp or the parks around us that it was so lovely to be around. I also just loved biking with James. We even tried to hold hands and bike for a little bit. Just being silly and in love.

When we got to the dune trails we would get to walk on the Baltimore boulevard which was a road to nowhere that was built in the 1950s that wasn't part of a planned (and scrapped) community. Before the island became a national park. It was really interesting to touch it and walk on it. Apparently the gulls use it to break open oysters now.

The plan life was also interesting because it had to adapt to the wind from the ocean. Shaping everything and making things shorter and tighter. I was having an excellent time even if the sand was a little hard to walk on.

We took pictures at the look out. We had lots of laughs but we also had lots of discussions about birth and baby. It felt good to share some information I've heard or learned that now James can know too. We are a good team.

We got back to our bikes (after James teased me for not being able to crouch down to take a picture of a mushroom) (they would take the picture for me) and biked towards the bay. It was a very different smell. The tide had gone out and it was fun seeing all the oyster shells and plants. We spent some time exploring the driftwood and sitting together watching the water. I felt really lucky to be in nature with my favorite person.

We got back to the bikes. I had a pain in my side and so I was a lot slower. But the pain would eventually go away and we slowly made our way back to the car. James did go a little faster just to stretch their legs but they never make me feel bad for going slow.

I could have kept hanging out at the park but we decided to go to Berlin to get lunch. James was right that we shouldn't push it, and that if I was starting to feel even a little hungry we shouldn't wait to long.

So we packed up and headed to Berlin. It was surprisingly busy in town and so parking was a little hard. We would get a spot at a church that has public parking and went to a restaurant we had been to before and enjoyed. And it held up to memory.

James got French onion soup and fries and I got a house made veggie burger. This thing was fantastic. I was really upset when half way through I would get a horrible pain in my stomach. I was so upset because the sandwich was so good and I slowly tried to eat the rest. But I couldnt have the last couple bites. I tried very hard to breathe through it. James said I looked so sad. This would continue on and off for the rest of the day.

I wasn't sad though and when the pain wasn't happening I was still having a lovely time.

We walked around the main street for a bit. And eventually stopped at a cafe that smelled so lovely. James got a coffee and I got a chai and we shared a cupcake bread pudding. Which was warms and fantastic. We talked about the next couple weeks, the holidays and stuff. I was just really enjoying my husband's company.

We would soon head back to the car. Where my back started to hurt for some reason. Like at the base of my ribs in the back. It was so uncomfortable. We stopped at a store to get sour cream to have with dinner but James let me wait in the car because my back was bothering me so much.

When we got back to the camp site we were surprised that there were other campers! The cabin next door is now occupied and there are two tent campers! Very brave in this cold.

We would have some quiet time in the cabin. James took the bed and I figured out how to hang my hammock from the two bunk beds. We both would spend an hour or so reading. And I would doze off for 45 minutes. Only waking up when James accidently set the find my phone off and it made my phone go off which scared me. But it was fine.

I was really surprised at how nauseous I was though. I struggled to get out of the hammock. And when I did I went to she the bathroom and I was so sure I was going to throw up. I did not but I was on the verge of crying I felt so bad.

James was building a fire and would make us quesadillas. I tried to sit outside with them but with my nausea and the cold, even with my puffy coat on I couldn't stop shivering which made me feel horrible. I told James I needed to go inside and they said that was fine. And they would eventually bring dinner inside for us.

I struggled to eat my quesadilla but I would take something to settle my stomach and I'm it seems to have finally finally worked. I still don't feel amazing but the overwhelming sick feeling has passed. Thank God.

Because now I can enjoy the rest of our evening. And hopefully I'll sleep easier tonight.

We are going to check out of here in the morning and go to snow hill for their Dickens weekend. Which will hopefully be cute. There is a blacksmith demo and Santa and a model train display. It should be a good time. A nice way to celebrate the season together.

I hope that you all are having a good day. I hope you are warm and comfortable. I love you all. Goodnight!

2 notes · View notes

soulofapatrick · 2 years ago

Text

Snow Turning Back - Jesse x Reader

Summary: Y/N and Jesse decide to spend the night at the ski lodge rather than brave the storm as it's getting dark and dangerous. They've shared a bed plenty of times on this route but somethings different about this night

Words: 2.7k

Warnings: handjobs; mentions of David with reader in Ellie’s place

Notes: I finally got around to giving Jesse the appreciation he deserves in the form of another story. @thefictionalgemini and @moonchildpc

Y/N’s POV

Patrols are fun, especially when with my closets friends and there’s no infected. I’ve always hated the thought of them once being a mother, father or child but now just a mindless killer. The patrol routes are snow covered and it makes for breathtaking views for some of them, like the one I’ve been sent on with Jesse. It’s cold enough to make you stop shivering and the air is dry, even layered up you can still feel the chill clawing it’s way through every crack and space as the snowflakes land. If the snow continues Jesse and I’ll have to stay at the old ski lodge tonight and wait it out as we can’t just stop off at the small cabin as I’m not leaving the horses out in freezing temperatures.

“You’re thinking really hard about something,” Jesse’s voice cuts through my cold fogged mind, his cheeks a bright red from the harsh wind, “You can tell me all about it when we get out of this shit.”

I just nod, the ski lodge coming into view and we’re both clicking our horses into a canter as my fingers are beginning to seize up around my reins. Jesse’s jumping down and swinging the doors open and leaning Cash inside as I get Indiana to come to a stop before pressing my body against his mane as he clip clops inside. I physically cannot get off straight away, the sudden warmth causing every movement burn as my clothes rub against my raw skin.

“Come on, I’ve got you.” Jesse is taking my feet out the stirrups, helping me carefully uncurl my fingers from the reins and then his hands are on my hips, helping me to swing my leg over and slide off Indiana until I’m standing in front of Jesse, my back against his chest and his hands still on my hips, “You okay to walk or does it hurt?”

“Hurts.” I’m whimpering and he’s nodding, guiding me to the sofa in the main area and helping me sit. He’s crouching in front of me, unzipping first jacket then the second follows and they’re being slid down my shoulders so I’m in two layers so I can warm up at a sensible rate so no damage is done. Learnt that the hard way, getting a really bad cold scab that took a month to heal.

I just lean back and let my eyes slide shut as Jesse ties both horses safely and make sure the lodge double doors are unable to be opened from the outside before grabbing both our packs. He sits next to me and I hear the static of his radio fills the silence until Joel’s familiar voice cuts through it, “Everything okay Jesse?”

“Yeah, Y/N and I just made it up the big ski lodge and with eh way the weathers going we’re going to bunker down here and see how it is tomorrow.”

“Alright, check back in at 8am.”

“Will do.”

The radio cuts out and a gentle hand is placed on my thigh, the touch not burning or making me wince which is so blissful. I’ve had a massive crush on Jesse for a while now but I’m not one to make the first move, especially with the dynamics of our quartet with Dina and Ellie. I just take any form of contact from Jesse I can and take that to bed, not knowing where I’d even begin to telling how I really feel about him.

He has no idea what he does to me with that knee weakening southern lilt to his accent, cognac eyes deep in thought and face full of emotion. The way he practically shields me whenever standing behind me as he’s so much taller and I’m not going to shy away from the fact his long fingers have played a huge part in my nights alone in my room, wondering if he’s the type to talk you through it or if he’s be a moaner or the type to pant. He seems the type to cuddle after, taking care of you and treating you like you’re the best thing ever created.

“Hey, come back to me,” The hand on my thigh tightens and I pry my eyes open, letting my head fall in his direction to be met with that amused smirk. Even just sitting here with him he’s got that swagger of confidence that adds to everything that is Jesse. People always have their eyes on him wherever he goes, “Let’s head upstairs, come on it’ll be comfier.”

He rises and holds out both hands for me so I take them, shrieking when he pulls me up so quickly I’m stumbling into his firm chest. He’s letting out a warm laugh, wrapping his arms around my shoulders in a hug as he rocks us, not knowing the effect he’s having on me.

“You dick,” I wriggle my hands out from where they’re trapped between our chests and tickle him, loving the way he laughs even harder and lets me go, giving me time to grab my pack and sprint for the stairs.

“Hey!” His voice follows, footsteps getting closer as I’m almost at the top so I make a dash for the room we usually sleep in if staying overnight. The room is light and airy and I love it because it’s untouched. The walls are holding peeling posters of all the activities that were once offered here, with families bundled up in winter clothes and huge grins on their faces as they hold their snowboards and skis. The bed frame rotted away a long time ago so it’s now just two king sized mattresses stacked on top of each other with a few blankets patrols have left here over time. There’s an ensuite in this room, it has running water that we managed to set up early on but it’s not hot water and in this weather I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s frozen. The chair is still in the corner so I set my pack on it, rummaging through to find whatever Tommy decided I needed to eat today.

Arms circle around my waist from behind and I’m being picked and spun around, causing me to let out a yelp then I can’t help the laughter bubbling out of me, moments like this letting me believe Jesse and I are something. He sets me back down, unwrapping himself from me to begin shrugging off the layers of coats he’s also wearing until he’s in just a thick hoodie and teeshirt. Those dark eyes land on me, silently asking the question that has my heart racing because it’s the closest to being in a relationship I’ll ever get with him.

Without saying a word I’m unbuttoning my jeans and kicking them off, him copying before he grabs some snacks and drinks from both our packs then we’re meeting on the mattresses. I pull three blankets over us as we sit shoulder to shoulder, backs against the wall and he’s passing across my thermos of hot coffee. I greedily take a huge gulp of it, melting as the warmth spreads through me, Jesse shaking his head fondly before holding out half a snack bar. I take it, surprised at how soft and gooey it still is despite being like six years past it’s best before.

The wind begins really howling outside the blown out window, causing it to whistle every time the wind picks up and I can feel my body beginning to shiver again. Jesse seems to agree, shuffling down the mattress until he’s laying down and opens his arms for me. I don’t hesitate, laying down with him but on my back as I’m not quite ready to sleep yet as Jesse and I always end up having really meaningful conversations that stay with me during these patrols.

Tonight is no different it seems as he leans on his elbow, looking down at me at me, fingers trailing lightly up and down my inner thigh as if acting subconsciously, “What was it like on the road with Joel and Ellie?”

“Weird,” This makes him let out a breath of laughter, “Joel was a really closed off man at first. It was like he had just given up on hope and love so he wouldn’t get hurt again…”

“Then he found you and Ellie?” There’s a small smile playing on those oh so kissable lips and his face glows a pale caramel in the sliver of light coming through the window, eliminating his freckles.

“Then he found Ellie,” I correct him, thinking back to the hard stares and twitch in his jaw every time he looked my way, “It wasn’t until after David that he really-“

“David?”

Oh. I’ve never told anyone what happened when Joel was injured and I had left Ellie looking over him while I went to get food. I tried to push those memories to the deepest and darkest corner of my mind so I wouldn’t get bogged down in the feel of that man’s slimy touch when he had caressed my hand or my face or the grin he would send me.

“David.” I repeat that man’s name out loud, gripping Jesse’s wrist and moving his hand from my thigh to splay it against my side, his thumb rubbing soothing circles there in silent understanding.

“He didn’t… did he?”

“Didn’t get the chance,” I exhale hard, swallowing, “I carved his head in with his own machete.”

“Good girl.” Those two words plus the feel of his hand on my bare skin has me shivering. Jesse feels it too and begins manhandling me onto my side so my back in pressed to his chest and I’m using his arm as a pillow while his other arm snakes around my waist. A gasp ripped from me when he pulls me as close as I can get to him and his lips press to the back of my neck before he’s mumbling, “I’d never… They wouldn’t get close enough…”

The morning light wakes me naturally and honestly, despite the biting cold it’s the best night sleep I have had in a long time. My languid stretch has Jesse stirring behind me as well as making me very aware of his hard dick pressing against my ass, only two thin layers between us. I should get up before I get carried away, the feeling of arousal making itself known but when I try to wriggle out of his grip he grumbles and tightens his arms around me, “Not yet,” His voice is low and just adds to that pooling in my gut.

“Jesse.”

“I know,” He mumbles back, face still buries in my hoodie, fingers cautiously sliding up my stomach and stopping before they touch my breasts, as if asking if I want this too. All I can do is rub my ass against him and give a slight nod, pretty sure I’m still asleep because last time I checked Jesse seems to have the hots for Dina but she’s with Ellie.

“Jesse.” I lightly grab his wrist as those fingers I’ve been dreaming about head back south, deciding on a new plan, “This isn’t… I’m not Dina.”

Suddenly I’m being flipped onto my back and Jesse is hovering above me, eyes full of surprise and even hurt when he cups my cheek in his hand, “I don’t want you to be Dina. Do you know how long…” He lowers his head so his lips are tantalisingly close, if I were to just tilt my chin up a little but Jesse’s trying to formulate words and I want to hear them, having been waiting to hear them for almost a year now, “Dina and I… I could never sleep with her when we were dating because all I had on my mind was you but I thought…”

“I thought too.” A breathy laugh escapes me before I’m doing what I have been wanting to do for forever, tilting my chin up and my eyes slip shut at the ghost of his lips against mine. No fireworks happen and my world doesn’t suddenly change all meanings but all my fears and doubts about Jesse slip away with the way he pressed his lips properly to mine. They’re softer than I expected and I can taste the coffee on them as my hands slip under his shirt.

I roam the expanse of his chest, feeling the soft dips and bumps of his abs and the way it rises and falls quicker the lower my fingers slide. He’s suddenly pulling back, grabbing my wrists as I go to unbutton his jeans, “This is fast, I don’t want you to feel like you’re being pressured-“

“Jesse.” I let his name roll off my tongue like a secret and it has his eyes darkening to an almost black, “I want to do this.”

He lets my wrists go, face falling into the crook of my neck when I pull his girthy length from his boxers with a quiet moan. I experimentally run my hand up and down it once and his hips are jerking into the motion, open mouthed kisses and teeth nipping at my neck, encouraging me to carry on.

I do just that, wrapping my hand around it and begin to stroke it up and down, this being the first time I’ve done anything like this as even with an apocalypse happening I’m a hopeless romantic. It seemed the right thing to do though, the way Jesse’s mumbling praises against my kiss that he’s marking as his own as I pick up my pace, rubbing my thumb over the slit and spreading the pre-cum with every movement of my wrist. His hand not holding him up slips back under my shirt and begins to massage my breasts through my brace causing me arch into the feeling and his cock to brush against my stomach. He lets out a breathy whine, teeth biting harder along my neck before his tongue soothes over them each time as his hips stutter in my hand and suddenly without warning he’s spilling his seed all over my hoodie. I couldn’t care less about the mess with the way my name falls from his lips over and over again until he’s flopping next to me, bliss written all over his face.

“Do you want me to?” He’s asking into the comfortable silence that’s settled over us. I want to say yes but I’m scared as I’ve never done anything before and he knows it, “Hey, it’s okay.” He’s guiding my face to the side so I can look at him, “Lets get packed up and head home then we’ll have all the time in the world to try anything you’re comfortable with. I’ll wait forever if I have to do, I just want you too be comfortable too.”

It has me surging forwards, slamming my lips to his in a messy and sloppy kiss which he gladly accepts before we really do have to get ready as the radio static cuts through the room, Joel’s voice speaking, “Jesse? Y/N? The storms done, you can make your way back now.”

Jesse’s scrambling for the radio, clicking the button, “We’re just packing up now. See you soon.”

Ellie and Dina give each other knowing looks as we come trotting back into Jackson, Joel and Tommy ready to meet us to check our log books that I ended up frantically scribbling notes in on the walk back so the writing is messy but you try writing on a moving horse.

“Have a good night?” Ellie teases when we join them, Tommy having sent the pair of us a stern look when he took our journals. I didn’t expect to find a father figure in one of the leaders of Jackson, let alone grumpy Joel’s younger brother, when we arrived but here we are almost two years later with him taking me under his wing and treating me like the daughter he never had.

“Shut up,” Jesse rolls his eyes playfully, nudging Ellie a little before grabbing my hand and tell the two girls, “We’ll see you in the Tipsy Bison later, we’ve… uhhh… got stuff to do.”

“WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT!”

#jesse #jesse tlou #jesse the last of us #the last of us jesse #tlou jesse x reader #tlou jesse #tlou Jesse x reader smut #tlou Jesse smut #tlou Jesse fluff #the last of us #the last of us 2 #tlou Jesse x reader #Jesse fanfiction #tlou Jesse fanfic

38 notes · View notes

cookerypokery · 2 years ago

Text

I Thought I Was Ruined

We all have a dark side, but most days I am pure angel. So it came as a surprise when I became my own inverse. For four days, I hated food.

It all started when I decided to go shopping on an empty stomach. I drove to the Chinese store. I piled my cart high with daikon, fish cake, bok choy, fresh shiitake mushrooms, tofu. And as I turned the corner to stand in line for checkout, I decided I needed a snack. I’m not talking some cookie-cake you use to distract children. I wanted something you could hang a skeleton on. So I wheeled my cart back around and bought half a cooked chicken.

This chicken had a name. “Scallion Oil Chicken.” “葱油鸡”。It had the model good looks of any Cantonese charcuterie. Plump, juicy meat. Glossy, perfect skin. In fact, the skin was a golden yellow, which Cantonese-style chicken often is. I don’t know how they do it, and it’s probably just food coloring, but humans wear makeup too to look more enticing, so who am I to judge?

[An Internet photo of the chicken -- not what I ate.]

I thought, very briefly, about driving the 15 minutes home and eating it on a plate in my kitchen. I decided against it and scarfed it in my car. I didn’t eat all of it. Half a chicken in one sitting is too much for one person who sits all day for a living. But I ate strategically: some thigh, some breast, the drumstick. I even had the discipline to eat some of that dreaded back meat because you never want be stuck with only back meat for leftovers. After I finished it, I wiped my hands on some napkins that a wise person (likely Rebekah, given how much she prioritizes clean hands more than I do) placed in my glove compartment.

I didn’t know it then, but that chicken was the Trojan horse that would be my downfall.

I got food poisoning. Or a stomach bug. Or stomach flu. These are imprecise words for the mess than ensued, as I had no formal diagnosis. But I had the symptoms, and because Cookery Pokery has already been reported once for graphic content, I am not going to describe it for you. The one thing I will report is that when I first started to feel disgusting, the first thing I did was stick a meat thermometer in my mouth because I didn’t know where the body thermometer was. The meat thermometer was not precise enough to take my temperature, but I later learned that I had a fever of 101 degrees.

My lifelong love affair with food also fell apart. On the first day, all I could eat was a few bites of boiled apple, a sippy cup’s worth of plain rice congee, and a bite of banana. I didn’t want smells or textures or flavors. Food was a barbaric army invading my land, and I just wanted peace.

Rebekah made me a hard-boiled egg with a jammy yolk, and it was like masticating caulk. As she delivered me progressively blander foods to my bedside, I croaked to her, “Did you throw out the chicken?” To which she would say, “Not yet,” and I would shiver feverishly.

I tried to distract myself from the roiling battle in my gut by looking at my phone, to realize that 90 percent of my Instagram feed featured cooking-related accounts. Everything looked absolutely disgusting. One particularly memorable post was a close-up of a steaming hot fresh-baked pepperoni pizza, with cheese still bubbling and beads of grease collecting on the sausage. It violated me to the core. Even still, over the next few hours I kept reflexively opening the Instagram app in pursuit of the dopamine hit it usually delivered. But my online feeds were tailored to a self that no longer existed. I grimaced and buried my phone in the blankets.

In physics class, I learned that our hearing is logarithmic. This means that we are more sensitive to the fluctuations in quiet sounds – for example, you can discern whether a cricket is louder than a whisper more easily than you can discern whether a trumpet is louder than violin. My taste buds, too, felt logarithmic. I became unbearably conscious of subtle changes in taste and flavor and texture. It was all disgusting.

But day by day, I found myself able to look at, and stomach, more foods. I impressed myself when I ate an entire unripe banana. (To avoid flavor.) I impressed myself more when later I ate another banana that was actually ripe. I ate several jammy hard-boiled eggs, with soy sauce. The breakthrough was when I ate some mustard stem pickles, which my mom used to give me when I was sick, with my congee. Then I ate miso soup, with tofu and daikon and udon noodle.

“I threw away the chicken,” Rebekah reported. My heart leapt. “But,” I said, “Is it still in the house?”

“Nope,” Rebekah said. “I took it straight to the Dumpster.”

I rejoiced. I may have fallen, but that chicken was no match for my reinforcements.

But progress was slow. Before a conflict peaks, it can feel like it will never end. I wanted resolution. I wanted to know that I could look at a medium rare prime rib and salivate again, out of desire and not in preparation for vomiting.

I am still convalescing, so I can’t write the ending to this post. You’ll have to fill in that last major chord yourself. What else do you want from me? I’m sick.

#identitycrisis

2 notes · View notes

ashintheairlikesnow · 2 years ago

Text

The Least

CW: Hypothermia, environmental whump, referenced pet whump, this is genuinely a comf piece though

Follows after this piece. You can see other work Marc Sonders is in right here. For @amonthofwhump day 5, Trapped in a Blizzard

A knock sounds at the door, but Marc doesn’t dare move out from under the blankets, even just to answer it. He’s not even sure he can.

He’s still shivering, muscles locking and releasing so intensely and so close together that he isn’t sure he’d be able to stay standing even if he did try to get up. All he does is briefly peek his head out from under the blankets and say, in a tremulous voice, “C-come in!”

The door doesn’t lock, anyway.

Not from the inside.

It’s made to keep him in, not keep anyone else out. Even if it was unlocked, he’d never make it back into the town before he froze out there in the snowstorm. It’s coming down too hard, too fast, and it’s so cold Marc can barely stand to breathe in the air. It’s like knives stabbing deep into his lungs.

He’s in a little shack of a space just outside of Hope, far enough away that the residents aren’t frightened of his presence, but close enough for interrogations. So far, he’s answered every question they give him, and Brock thanked him for not being trouble. He’d explained to Marc, in his friendly enough voice, that he’s never felt easy having to make someone scream.

Me neither, Marc had confessed, and Brock’s thin humorless smile told him that his attempt to connect had not exactly been a resounding success.

Between you and the person you were doing harm to, Brock had said in a level voice, only one of you held the remote, Handler Sonders. Only one of you held a whip. Only one of you held any power to stop it.

Right, but it didn’t-... feel like-... I’m sorry. Please, call me Marc. I’m not a handler anymore.

You and I both know that handlers don’t have the option to simply quit. You remain Handler Sonders until and unless I change my mind. You see, Handler, between the two of us... only one of us has the key to that door. Only one of us can order you buried in the woods or up on the mountain.

Marc swallowed around a lump in his throat. Only... only one of us has the power, he echoed.

Brock smiled. Precisely, Handler Sonders. Your cooperation so far is appreciated. We’ll be voting on allowing you out in another few days.

Then he had left Marc here, sometime... yesterday. Just before the snow started to fall, and the temperature dropped from chilly to dangerously freezing in what felt like ten minutes but in all reality, probably took a couple of hours. Now he’s out here, in a shack-house located inside a fenced-in horse pasture. The horses are settled snugly tight into a stable, now, a big barn that looks like a painting against the view of the mountains in the distance, the forest where the secret road to the border winds through. Marc has seen people trudging in and out to keep them fed, caught a flash of heavy woolen horse blankets slid over their backs. They’re warm enough.

It’s just Marc who is freezing, slowly, maybe to death.

Maybe that’s how they get rid of handlers out here. Maybe they held the vote, he failed, and now... this. He’ll stay locked alone in a single room with almost nothing in it. He’ll lay here, isolated, until he loses his mind. He can’t say he’d blame them, really. Not after what he’s been party to.

The key turns in the lock, the door pushes open inward, and Marc’s first thought is simply of the white.

Snow is piled up two feet high against the door, some of it spilling downward and not even melting much when it touches the little shack’s floor. That’s… probably not good.

Heavy snow boots crunch down onto the floor, thickly padded quilted snow pants shaking white powder off, heavy gloves that barely resemble hands and a ski coat, gloves, face mask, and fur-lined hood. The figure is short, but with all that on, Marc can’t begin to tell who it is, other than to know it isn’t Beringer.

Ber’s taller than that, and he wouldn’t leave Mallie alone, not to come out here.

Not that they’ve let them see each other more than once or twice, and it’s been at least two days since the last visit. Two days since Ber had last pressed a quick, rushed kiss to his lips and Mallie had wrinkled her nose and declared them both very gross and then cried when Beringer had to pull her out of Marc’s arms.

Ber is probably already in Canada, honestly. They’d want to get him up to the border ahead of the storm. Marc wouldn’t hold it against him. If he took Mallie with him, well, that’s good, too, even though it makes Marc’s entire chest burn and ache and tears sting his eyes at the idea of his little girl being somewhere where he can’t see her again.

It’s okay, though. Someone else can do a better job raising her to know right from wrong. God knows Marc’s fucked her up just by making the choices he made, choices he thought would help him afford a good life for her, but what’s a good life if you’re not actually good? Beringer knew being a pet was wrong even while he was one. Marc had to figure it out from conversations over Mallie’s little head with a man who seemed to catch his attention more every day at drop off and pickup, until he realized…

He had a crush on a pet.

Not wanting him like the prospectives want them. Not wanting him like a body, but wanting to know the person inside of it. He had wanted to know who Beringer had been before, and had let himself go hunting for information he wasn’t supposed to have to find out. He’d asked about his favorite tv shows and really cared about the answer.

He’s been a bad guy in so many lives, and he never felt happy about it but a job’s a job, right? You have to make a living. WRU made it so he could have a house with a backyard for Mallie to play in, so he could take her to the doctor when she was sick and buy ridiculous cakes for birthdays. WRU had made sure he could pay for Mallie to go to private school - there’s a tuition reimbursement for half the cost, for God’s sake! - and get braces one day…

It had seemed like a good enough trade - someone else’s life, some stranger’s, made worse to make his better. It had seemed like a good trade… until it wasn’t, any longer. Until he’d realized what it meant to have other lives torn apart to sew together your own.

Yeah… yeah, he won’t blame the people in Hope if they let him freeze to death out here. He deserves it, and more.

The person in the doorway shoves it shut behind them, dropping a heavy knapsack to the floor and groaning with relief. Then they shove the ski goggles back from over their eyes, pull off the face mask, and Marc realizes who it is, blinking with surprise as he pushes himself up on one elbow, even as his body protests every movement.

“Rye,” He says, and the young man’s face breaks into a wide smile.

“You remembered my new name!”

“Course I d-did. It’s a good one. Did… B-Brock s-s-send you?”

“Yeah. I brought some stuff for you. The others still don’t want you in the town, um, safety reasons. But with the snow…” Rye glanced at a window, watching the snow continuing to fall in great heavy flakes, so close together it felt more like fog than frozen rain. “And the temperature… you’re not safe out here, there’s no real heat in this place. The blizzard’s going to go at least one more day, we think.”

“Yeah.” Marc’s breath puffs out in front of him, making a new cloud right inside the room. “I kn-know. I’m sh-sh-shaking pretty bad, actually… And my h-h-hands feel… well, th-they don’t feel m-m-much…”

“Yeah. So I brought some stuff. You shouldn’t be, um, frostbitten or anything else just yet. You just stay there.” Rye holds up a gloved hand, and Marc settles back into the bed, watching him. The younger man shuffles around, opening up the heavy backpack - it’s one of those army-style things that can hold a hundred pounds of stuff without bursting. The Rye he knew had been lithe and couldn’t possibly have hauled that kind of weight around. But this Rye - he looked a little older, of course, but also stronger. There’s a hint of muscle to him that he hadn’t had before. It looks good, he looks… healthy. Happy.

Marc smiles, watching from beneath the dubious protection of his blankets as Rye starts pulling things out of the knapsack.

First, a thick plastic square like fogged bathroom windows after a hot shower that Rye tapes over the single window in the shack, his lips pressed together in concentration. Almost immediately, some of the chilly drafty breeze simply stops making its way inside.

Then, something in a box that he sets down on the little wooden table with its single chair. Marc squints - it’s little heating pads, the kind that you crack and then hold as they warm you. He nearly lunges off the bed for it, startling Rye so badly the kid trips over himself and nearly falls back into the wall.

“Sorry! I’m sorry, just, I’m s-so cold-”

“No, it’s okay, go ahead, you. I just didn’t expect-” Rye laughs, breathy and nervous. “I guess I’m still kind of flinchy from… before I ran away.”

Marc’s useless numb fingers somehow manage to clumsily paw open the box and pull out one of the packs, listening to its crack with a thin trickle of hope as he breaks it. The warmth starts slow, at first, and then all at once and he retreats back into his blankets to hold it tightly until his fingers start to tingle and burn as the feeling fully returns to them. It hurts, but it’s so good to know he can feel things that he doesn’t even care.

“I’m sorry,” He says, looking up to meet Rye’s eyes.

He’s glad the younger man isn’t that close to him. He knows he would smell, if this place wasn’t so frozen he can’t even sweat. He needs a shower, like, three or four days ago now - but really, isn’t this what he deserves? Didn’t he lead trainees with hair matted to their skulls from overwork, or a week in isolation, to the showers more than once?

Even if all he did was look down at his phone and let them have any privacy they could find - even if he never, ever had his own trainees go into iso - he still escorted other trainees as a favor to coworkers. He still saw how they looked at him, worried he would touch them or frightened that he wouldn’t. He still ignored his prickling unease every time a trainee put a hand on his arm to try and curry favor by giving away the only thing they had left to trade.

Even if he said no, every time, he still knew it happened.

And he still worked there.

Hell, he sat across the lunch table in the cafeteria chatting about TV shows and football games with guys he knew had been beating the shit out of someone who couldn’t fight back a half-hour before.

“It’s not your fault,” Rye says, shrugging.

Marc shakes his head. “No, it r-really is.” He watches Rye set up a tiny little space heater in one corner, close to the bed he lays on and facing him. When it clicks on, he’s almost fascinated by the soft buzz and the way, after a few seconds, he can feel a touch of warmth against his cheek. “I could have taken you to a safehouse, or something-”

“Wouldn’t have gone, probably. I don’t know. I don’t like to think about it, the-... the Facility. Training and all that.” Rye lays a blanket over him, one that’s silvered like foil on one side. “Juliet sent this for you, it’s hers. She’s, um. She came here and got stuck out in the cold, too, before they found her, and she says these blankets are worth their weight in gold. She keeps seven in her room.”

“Seven?”

“Seven. She says you never know when you’ll freeze and need them. I think she’s a little scared of cold, now.”

Marc nods. He’s already warming, with the tiny heating pad under the heavy blankets. His toes start to tingle, too, inside the three pairs of socks he’s wearing. “Don’t blame her. I might not be so happy with it, either. Rye, can I ask-... my daughter. Is she-”

“She’s in town, she’s safe. She’s asking for you, a lot, but Brock wants to wait until he can finish asking you questions. Then maybe he’ll have some smugglers take you up to the border or something.”

Marc swallows, his heart nervously fluttering, and forces himself to ask the next question. “And… and the person I came with. Beringer, is he… did he leave, or…”

“Are you kidding?” Rye looks up, and then smiles. His face is full of kindness, just like it was in training. He was such a good trainee, worked his ass off in his classes, just rocketed through every step. Marc had really liked him.

He’d really enjoyed the company of the poor kid he was helping train to spend his life counting pills to make sure some old lady took them on time-

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “No, I just-... did he make it to Canada before the snow? At least?”

“No. But, hey wait, don’t get upset or anything, I just mean… he didn’t leave. He stayed.”

“He… he stayed?”

“Yeah. He said he won’t go anywhere unless he can take you with him. So he’s watching your daughter while Brock figures everything out.”

Marc’s exhale comes out of him so fast it’s almost an oof, which makes Rye break into soft laughter. Marc puts his burning hands up over his face and finds he could almost sob with relief he hadn’t quite realized he would feel. He won’t go anywhere unless he can take you with him. “Thanks… thanks for telling me. It helps to know.”

“He really likes you, I guess.” Rye pulls out a thermos and a bag of crackers. “We had beef and vegetable soup for lunch. I got you some, plus there’s some cornbread in here, too. It should still be really hot. Oh, and... hold on, Juliet sent some coffee...”

“Thanks… thank you.” Marc pushes himself up to seated, keeping the blankets wrapped tightly around him, and finds his hands working well enough to hold the thermos if he keeps it balanced on his leg. The soup steams up out of it, and he inhales salt and beef broth smell with delight. Has soup ever smelled so good?

Rye hesitates, watching him, and then sits down at the little table. “Handler Sonders-”

“Please, just Marc. I quit, like I said. Or, well, I kind of walked off the job. But please... I don’t want to be called that shit anymore. I ran away.”

“Just like me.” Rye grins, and he has a bright and shining smile, the kind you find yourself answering whether you mean to or not.

Marc shakes his head, spooning a bit of soup into his mouth and trying not to make an audible sound of happiness as it nearly burns his tongue. Outside the taped-up plastic-covered window, the blizzard is getting heavier. “Not really. You… you ran because of what was done to you. I ran because of what I did.”

“But you decided not to do it anymore.”

“... Yeah, pretty much.”

“Well, that counts for something.”

“Does it?”

“To me it does.”

Marc takes another bite. This time he can taste the beef a little bit better, gets a chewy bite of it, a bit of carrot that nearly melts as fast as he spoons it up. “So what made you choose the name Rye?”

“I don’t know. I just liked it, the sound of it. Juliet calls me Rye Bread sometimes.” Rye smiles. The little shack is warmer now, with the little heater hard at work, the window taped, and the good company. “I don’t mind, she’s not nice but she’s, um, kind, you know? She’ll do anything for you but she might ask you why you did it the wrong way the first time.”

“I think kind is probably better than nice.” Marc thinks about Rye as a trainee, skinnier then. He’s put on weight, it looks good on him. Weight, muscle, and a brighter smile. “I tried to be nice, but what I did was… evil, not kind. Can you stay for a while?”

Rye glances back outside at the falling snow, then turns back and nods. “Sure. For a little bit. Not like we can do most of our chores in weather like this, anyway.”

“Great. I just… tell me about your life.”

“What part?”

“... everything since the last time I saw you.”

The way Rye brightens at interest and attention is sickeningly familiar, but Marc fights past it. He does want to know, to see what Rye made of himself when he created his own identity, after the Facility took the first one and he decided to shake off the second. He does want to know who Rye really is, now.

“Uh… okay, yeah, sure. So, you remember my prospective…”

The snow falls, and Marc finds himself wishing he’d known how to walk off the job when he could have taken Rye, too, but finds that in the end… in the end, it doesn’t matter. Rye found his own way here, and so did all the others in the little town.

Marc wants to know them all.

It’s the least he can do.

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @arlinthesnep @endless-whump @doveotions @emdeighamae @wildfaewhump @whump-tr0pes @hackles-up @orchidscript

#rye is altogether too cute #amow winter whumperland 2022 #day 5 #trapped in a blizzard #environmental whump #hypothermia #bbu #box boy universe #marc sonders #beringer #whumper turned whumpee #but he was always #reluctant whumper #caretaker and whumpee #whumpee turned caretaker #box boy #rye bb #captivity #sort of

93 notes · View notes

mydisenchantedeulogy · 4 years ago

Text

Don’t Poke the Bear || Karl Heisenberg || NSFW

“It’s hot as fuck in here.”

Heisenberg brushes his hair from his neck and curses again.

You hum to acknowledge his outburst. It certainly is hot – the furnace when running heats the room to unbearable temperatures – but you don’t mind; not when Heisenberg is shirtless.

Damn is he attractive. You bite down onto your tender lip, watching him work from across the room.

His muscles protrude beneath his scarred flesh as he flexes, building castings for his latest project – you don’t care.

He has no idea how much he turns you on. The thought of him bending you over the grimy workbench and fucking you senseless in this unbearable heat makes you sigh in pleasure. It’s a shame he’s too busy to play with you though.

“… listening … hey! Earth to the moron.”

You grunt, giving him a heated glare.

“I heard you asshole,” you bark. “No reason to be rude.”

He puckers a brow and hums. “Sorry about that, darling. Pass me the mallet on the shelf over there.”

You trudge across the room, intent on tossing it at him. But several hammers and mallets are lying on the shelf. Each one is different; each used for different tasks. Which one does he need? You frown in annoyance; embarrassed heat creeps across your face.

You are aware that Heisenberg is watching you.

“Don’t say it,” you order.

He laughs. “I need the brass mallet.”

You take it to him, shoving the brass head into his hand.

“Now who’s being fucking rude.”

You ignore him and watch as he continues to work.

Whatever Heisenberg is making doesn’t interest you in the least. It’s boring and though the Soldats are a necessary item in defeating Miranda, you care nothing for it.

It’s his goal to kill her; to be free of her; not yours. But if that is what he wants, it’s no problem to you.

Faint scars from the experimentation mark his skin. You run a slender finger up his spine to the base of his neck, seeing his shoulders tense up; goosebumps rise.

“I’d kill you if it were someone else,” he mentions as he swats away your eager hand.

Turning, his eyes narrow.

“Why’d you come down here?”

You lie. “To lend you a hand. I was bored.”

“I swear to god that’s the dumbest lie you’ve ever made,” he retorts, taking off his heat-resistant gloves.

You snort and roll your eyes. “I brought you the damn mallet, didn’t I?”

“I had to tell you three fucking times,” he barked.

Damn he’s an ass.

“I was bored,” you explain with a sigh. “And thought I’d come down here to watch you work.”

Heisenberg shakes his head and turns the furnace off, sauntering towards the door. You watch him a minute, deciding to follow him.

“Break time?”

He snorts. “For me. You didn’t do a damn thing.”

“I hand––

“For fuck’s sake, I know. You handed me the mallet.”

He’s a bit moody today.

You step into the cart, staring out the side at the machines as they run, carting Soldats from one end of the factory to the next.

The lift ascends.

“There’s so many of them,” you mention.

Heisenberg hums. “It’s not nearly enough.”

“It’s more than the first time you let me down here,” you add, feeling nostalgic.

He agrees. “Dead bodies weren’t doing the trick.”

A shiver runs down your spine. You are aware that live humans were used to creating his army – more and more of the villagers began to go missing; it was obvious – yet thinking about it always turned your stomach.

Changing the subject, you grin. “You know … I rather like seeing you covered in grease and grime.”

“I knew there had to be a reason you asked to help me,” he stated. “Fuck you’re deprived.”

You laugh. “Says the pot calling the kettle black.”

“I’m not the sadistic fuck wanting to jump your bones down there,” he retorted with a grunt.

You fake an expression of hurt. “You’re not? Mercy me! And I would have let you too.”

Heisenberg laughs. “You have a screw loose, fucking with me.”

Perhaps you do.

“The offer stands,” you mention, walking over to him.

He wets his lips, reaching for your hair to yank back your head, forcing you to stare up into his gleaming yellow eyes. It stings a bit, making you gasp, but also it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Last chance. You sure?”

You nod.

Staring into your wide eyes, Heisenberg catches your lips in a rough kiss. You moan. This is a pleasant surprise; he’s not keen on kissing.

Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, you tell yourself.

Resting your hand on his chest, you open your eager mouth, sighing in bliss once his warm tongue meets yours. The pressure he uses to crush your mouth hurts, but you love it, tussling with him. Your insides clench up in want.

You can’t take this. Kissing is nice, but you want to be wrecked.

Breaking the kiss, you reach for his pants, tugging him closer to you. Heisenberg grins, swollen lips looking good enough to eat, and motions for you to turn around. Doing so, he pushes you against the wall of the lift and reaches down to undo your pants.

You shimmy them down in glee.

Hearing his pants unfasten, you are surprised when he spreads you and thrusts his cock to the base inside of you. The air leaves your lungs from the sudden pain, but once he starts, sucking on your neck as he thrusts deep into your eager hole, you relax a bit, moaning.

His soft grunts sound so delicious in your ear.

“So good,” you moan.

Have you ever felt this full before? You won’t last much longer.

Reaching back, you bury your fingers into his hair, arching your ass to meet his rough thrusts. Closer and closer your end draws near. As you cum, your eyes roll back in ecstasy. Your body slumps back in exhaustion as Heisenberg continues to fuck you.

Suddenly, he leans forward and sinks his teeth into the tender flesh of your shoulder. You cry out; it strings so bad.

Why did he do this? Does he mean to hurt you?

He pulls out of you – your hole feels empty and sore – and covers the cheeks of your ass in warm cum.

“Let go,” you plead.

Heisenberg releases you. The mark on your shoulder throbs as you touch it, resting against the wall of the lift.

“Sorry about that,” he says with a grin.

You glare at him.

“You’re such an ass. You didn’t have to tear my fucking arm off.”

“Your damn arm is fine,” he snaps.

Refastening your pants, despite the cum on your ass, you trudge out of the lift, needing a warm bath.

Heisenberg laughs.

You just had to go and poke the bear.

#karl heisenberg #resident evil village #heisenberg x reader #gender netural reader #resident evil 8

699 notes · View notes

queenxxxsupreme · 3 years ago

Note

If you feel comfortable, may I please request something where Netflix Coen brings his lady and her two kiddos to Kaer Mohren for the winter? Thank you so much for everything you've written so far <3

Also yes the did butcher Eskel and I was so disappointed.

A/N: I probably most likely completely butchered his character.... But I really really liked the idea and I really wanted to write for him! So I had to start somewhere! Someone who knows Coen better than me, please feel free to critique things!

Note: The name "Odie" in this fic is pronounced "Oh-dee" or at least that's how I pronounced it :)

The wind whipped around you, bringing with it a bitter chill that threatened to freeze you to the bones.

“Are we almost there?” Your youngest whined. You could feel Edda shivering from the cold.

“We’re nearly there.” Coen spoke from your left. He sat atop his buckskin mare named Alder with your eldest, Odette, riding with him.

“Keep your nose covered, Odie.” You told your daughter, taking note of the way her scarf was falling from her face.

You checked Edda’s scarf, adjusting it to make sure it would keep her warm.

The young six-year-old looked over to her sister and to Coen.

“Why doesn’t Coen have to cover his nose?” She huffed.

“I won’t freeze like you ladies will.” Coen told her.

Edda leaned back against your chest with a huff. She was growing tired of riding, and it was hard to be able to relax with the freezing temperatures.

“We’ve been traveling since morning, Coen.” You spoke quietly, turning your head so you could meet his gaze. “The girls are getting tired.

“I know, sunshine. I promise, we are almost there.”

***

Within less than an hour, the two horses were approaching a large stone structure mostly hidden into the side of a mountain. Snow covered the stone in a generous layer of white.

Your eyes carefully glided along the structure, taking note of a few places where there seemed to be torches lit.

The movement of something near a torch caught your attention. You gripped the reins tighter, searching the area above the wall for any more movement.

“What is it, Y/N?” Coen asked you. He could hear your heart pick up pace just a little and the way your breathing changed ever so slightly.

You furrowed your brows, shaking your head softly.

“I thought I saw something.”

“Where?” Edda sat up straight, pivoting her head back and forth as she searched for whatever you had seen.

“On top of the wall over there.”

“Probably just someone keeping watch.” Coen explained.

“There’s people where we’re going?” Odette looked over her shoulder to him.

“Not many, but there are a few.”

Once inside the first set of walls to the School of the Wolf, Coen slipped down from his horse and walked her in the direction of the stables.

You followed behind him. Your eyes flickered ahead of Coen, noticing a few horses in the stables that Coen was leading you to.

There were four horses in total: a chestnut mare, a black bay gelding, a gray gelding, and a piebald mare.

“Look at the horses, Edda!” Odette exclaimed.

“Whose horses are those, Coen?” Edda couldn’t seem to take her eyes off of the beautiful animals.

“My brothers. Maybe tomorrow I can properly introduce you girls to them.” Coen tethered Alder to a hitching post inside the shelter. He then turned and lifted Odette off of Alder’s back.

“Why not right now?” Edda frowned at him as he approached her to help her down as well.

“Because I don’t think you want to freeze your toes off now, do you?” Coen placed Edda on her feet and then looked down at her for a moment before bringing his eyes to you. “Besides, I think momma’s tired.”

You smiled just a little as you tried to hide your yawn with your hand.

Coen took your hands and let you slip down from your horse, Bee.

“But Coen–!”

“Edda.” You cut her off. “It is late. We don’t need to be out here too much longer.”

“Come on, Edda.” Coen put his hand on her shoulder and ushered her in the direction of the main doors.

“Are you sure it’s okay that we are here?” You spoke quietly as you walked alongside your witcher.

The two girls walked just ahead of you. You kept your eyes on them until Coen’s hand found your arm. He stopped you from walking and made you turn to face him.

“Stop worrying, sunshine.”

“I just don’t want to be unwelcomed.” You admitted.

“Wherever I am, you are welcomed.” He leaned down to kiss your head. “I sent a raven to Vesemir before we left telling him what was happening. I am sure he’s told the others.”

You said nothing, turning your head to find your girls.

“Y/N.” Coen turned your head back to him with gentle but cold fingers. “What has you scared?”

“I’m not scared.”

“Nice try. I can smell it on you, sunshine.”

You looked up at him, quiet for a few moments.

“I just…. I’m nervous about meeting them. Your family. There’s so much that could go wrong. I just don’t want them to dislike us.”

“They won’t dislike you, because I love you.” He kissed your head once more. “Come on now. Let’s go before you freeze.”

***

Coen pushed the large and heavy wooden door to the keep open, then held it for your daughters and yourself.

Edda and Odette both came to near immediate stops once they were inside of the keep.

In the large room were multiple tables. Most of them were empty.

A crowd of people sat at one of the tables, their loud chatter coming to a silence as the front door shut with a deep thud.

Silence filled the room. Your stomach churned with anxiety. You looked around from face to face.

This was Coen’s family.

“Fucking finally!” The man with curly red hair spoke first, his voice booming and echoing off of the high walls. The sound startled Odette and Edda, making them jump. “Thought you were gonna take until the next plague to fucking get here, Coen, you whoreson!”

“I planned to be here earlier, but I’m here now.”

“And who have you brought with you?” The eldest appearing man with gray hair approached Coen.

“Y/N of Brugge, and her girls, Odette and Edda.” Coen gestured to each of you as he said your names.

The redhead smacked the dark haired man with scarring on his face in the shoulder, a look of disbelief crossing the former’s face.

“That’s her, Eskel! That’s Sunshine!”

“You’re shittin’ me.” The dark haired one, Eskel, looked at you in disbelief, a smirk coming to his lips. “Good to finally put a face with all the stories, Little Miss Sunshine.”

“Who the hell is ‘sunshine?’” The other dark haired man asked. He was dressed in clothes that were much brighter than the other men’s.

“Don’t ask–,” Coen started, shaking his head but Geralt cut him off.

“Sunshine is the only name Coen’s ever given to a woman he’s been sharing stories about for the last four years.”

“Welcome home, wolf.” The older man with gray hair said. “I’m glad you made it safely.”

“Didn’t expect such shit weather so early in the winter.” Coen shook his head.

“Heard that this winter’s gonna be a nasty one.” Eskel told him.

“Just what we fucking need.” Coen muttered. “I’ve brought Y/N and her two here ‘cause I didn’t want to leave them for the winter. Nilfgard is closing in, and I didn’t feel comfortable leaving them in Brugge for the winter.”

“We’ll need to work on a room for the children. I’m sure you all are tired from your travels.” The elder witcher smiled at you.

“We are.” You nodded softly, placing your hand on Odette’s shoulder. “We appreciate your generosity greatly.”

“No need for any of that.” The witcher shook his head. “My apologies, but better introductions will be made in the morning. Your younguns should probably get to bed.”

“This way, Y/N.” Coen nodded for you to follow him.

You ushered the girls in his direction.

“Coen, a moment please?” Geralt moved to walk with his brother. “If it would be alright with the girls’ mother, they could sleep in the room with Cirilla.”

Coen came to a stop, his eyes widening.

“She’s here?”

Geralt shook his head, eyes closing for a moment.

“It’s a long story. But the offer is there. She’s in a room by herself down the hall from Lambert.”

“I’ll let Y/N know. Thanks.”

You watched as the White Wolf returned to the table the witchers had previously been at.

***

“I heard what Geralt said.” You spoke quietly to Coen as the girls walked just ahead of you both down the hall. “Who is Cirilla?”

He let out a sigh, his free hand coming to rub his face. One of his arms was linked with yours, elbows interlocked as he walked you through the halls of Kaer Morhen.

“Geralt’s Child Surprise. Princess of Cintra.”

You turned your head sharply to look at Coen, brows furrowed.

“The Princess? I-I thought she died in the sacking.”

“I thought so too. But I suppose not. Would you be okay with the girls staying in a separate room?”

You didn’t answer him immediately, your eyes finding the backs of your daughters’ heads.

Coen followed your gaze. His hand came up to your arm.

“You can say no, sunshine.”

You looked at him, guilt festering inside your stomach.

“I-I just don’t want them away from me on the first night, Coen. It isn’t because of where we are. I just…. You know how Edda with her nightmares and I’d hate to bother someone with them.”

He pressed a kiss to the side of your head. He understood your concerns with Edda. The poor girl was plagued with terrible nightmares, so much so that often times she would crawl into bed with her sister or with you in hopes to keep them at bay. Sometimes the nightmares could cause her to get so vocal that everyone in the entire home could hear her and were awoken.

***

Coen pushed the door to his room open and signed Igni into the hearth.

“You gals can have my room for the night. It’s far cleaner than any of the uninhabited rooms.”

“This is clean?” Edda furrowed her brow as she looked around. Odette nudged her in the arm.

“My apologies, my lady.” Coen smiled as he looked down at her. “This castle is hundreds of years old and until recently, has only ever had men living inside it. All of us are filthy.”

“I disagree with that statement.” Eskel commented as he walked by the doorway to go to his room.

The two girls giggled.

“Where will you stay for the night?” You asked Coen, taking note of the bed that would already be a very tight squeeze for you and the two girls.

“I don’t know that I’m going to get much sleep tonight.” He admitted, moving to place his hand on your arm so he could lean in for a brief kiss. “First nights at the keep are always a bit…. Rowdy. I’ll make sure we keep it down.”

“Rowdy?” Odette repeated.

“Yes, rowdy. Sharing stories, recounting what’s happened since the last winter, telling jokes. Sometimes there’s fighting. There was once singing too.” Coen nodded his head. “But you three need your rest.

“You do too.” You told him.

He held your gaze for a few heartbeats, a smile coming to his lips.

“I’m glad you’re here, you know?”

You returned the smile, your hand coming up to brush over Odette’s hair since she was closest to you.

“I know. Have fun down there, Coen.”

“Always do, sunshine. Sleep tight, girls.”

You watched as he left, closing the door behind himself.

“Come on, girls. Let’s get some sleep. This winter is going to be one for the books.”

Taglist: @samuraigrl89 @burningcoffeetimetravel @open--till--midnight @beautifulsweetschaos @gm_abbo @thefirelordm @here4thespice @many-fandoms-lover @one-eyed-captain-kinky @sparrowsparadise @bluscryn @blushingskywalker @buckysxgal @lady-of-glass-and-bone @super-calithehamm

If your name is in italics, it wouldn't let me tag you:(

#coen x reader #coen x reader fluff #coen the witcher #coen witcher #the witcher #coen #the witcher netflix #netflix #witcher #witcher netflix #witcher s2 #kacey answers

55 notes · View notes

ladyartemesia · 4 years ago

Text

The Luna

◐ PART VII of THE ALPHA ◐

◐ Series Masterlist ◐

◐ Part I ◐ Part II ◐ Part III ◐ Part IV ◐ Part V ◐ Part VI ◐

Pairing: Alpha Werewolf Jimin x Omega Reader

Rating: Hard Mature 18+ (for this installment)

Warnings: this one is a little darker... implied violence, mentions of blood, ABO sexual dynamics including discussion of scenting, marking, mating, and claiming, sexual innuendo, discussion of violence relating to ritual combat, possessive behavior, injuries and discussion of injuries, discussions or ruts, (non-explicit) kidnapping and drugging, its not as bad as it sounds, but it is definitely a bit darker...

Word Count: 4200

Author’s Note: You have no idea what your support has meant to me. After getting the dreaded Covid it was awhile before I had the energy to work on this. Truly your asks and your messages and comments...they made me so happy. You made me believe that people wouldn’t forget about this story. I am so grateful you were able to wait. As always, my angels @ppersonna @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen and @underthejoon were the best betas and the best friends anyone could ask for. My thanks to ALL of you for helping me bring this story to life! I don’t know what I would do without your daily encouragement and your daily support. You guys are the heartbeat of this story.

———◐———

Fifteen Years Ago...

———◐———

“It can’t be-”

“Run for the elders! Quickly!

“Red smoke rises from the Luna’s hearth!”

The red smoke was invented by the first wolf known to mate a witch. Legend has it that their bond lent him some of her magic and with it he created a mystical powder that unleashed bloody plumes like knife slashes in the clouds.

It was a distress call.

A wolf in danger or in need could throw the powder (usually into their fireplace) and the red smoke would rise - drawing others to their aid.

No fire was needed and the strange shimmering clouds it produced could even be seen on a moonless night.

“What happened? Where is the Luna?”

The chief elder was still out of breath, having charged over from his chambers to find Isa in hysterics.

“She’s gone! Something scared her! It triggered a half-shift!”

His eyes widened in fear and alarm.

“She’s too young to half-shift. The energy it would take-”

Isa broke into sobs again.

The girl was only five years old. She and her wolf were too volatile to merge safely. The wolf would be frightened - it would run.

Eventually the child might regain control, but she would have no way of knowing where she was or how she got there…

And she would be weak. The effects of the shift were too much for a pup that age.

The chief elder felt true terror grip his heart.

“Call for the alphas - immediately!”

Although they were technically one of the oldest bloodlines in the village, Park Clan had only five families to its name - all betas.

Except for one.

Park Jimin was the first alpha ever born to the Parks and as such he became the head of his family on the day of his birth - officially the youngest clan leader in history.

When the call for alphas spread through the village, nine year-old Jimin was roused from his bed to serve on behalf of his people.

Clan alphas were required to report, regardless of their age.

“I don’t have to tell any of you what is at stake. Our pack has been entrusted with the Luna’s bloodline. Her safety is our sacred commission.”

The woods were no place for a child. If fluctuating temperatures and possible starvation weren’t bad enough, there were wild bears, packless ferals, rogue witches, snakes, and worst of all-

Unblessed wolves—animals without a human heart. They were by far the most pressing danger to the little girl.

“Surely young Park can remain at home for this,” Jeon Jinseok pressed. The boy was barely older than his grandson, Jungkook, and he was reluctant to endanger another pup needlessly.

Some quiet murmurs of assent could be heard around the elder’s chambers, however the chief elder himself shook his head sadly.

“I understand your concern… but the law is the law. Every clan alpha is sworn to such a task. He took an oath after his first transformation-”

“He was seven-”

“An oath is still an oath.”

All eyes turned to the gentle voice in the corner. The Park alpha looked impossibly small and soft.

But his gaze burned with determination.

“It is my right and duty to seek the Luna alongside all of you.” His round little jaw clenched stubbornly. “I’m not afraid.”

The sound of bones and sinew shifting filled the air as one by one the clan alphas fell to their wolf forms and took off into the forest.

Until only a small silver wolf remained.

The chief elder sighed.

The boy would not undergo the Change for another six years. The mental link between his wolf and human forms was not yet complete. It was difficult for information to pass from one to the other.

“You are the wolf force of Park Jimin.”

After a moment the wolf nodded.

“You were called here because the Luna has gone missing and you must find her if you can. Search the woods until your wolf force can endure no longer and then return. If you find the child, bring her home as soon as possible.”

The young wolf nodded again and then disappeared into the night.

It was cold.

The last thing you remembered was a loud noise. It was too close - you panicked-

Then there was heat and pain and running and now this-

Darkness and barren trees looming over you as far as your frightened eyes could see.

“...Hello?”

Your hands were bleeding. Tears began to slide softly down your cheek as your lips trembled.

“H-Hello?”

Jimin had never been allowed into the forest alone. A myriad of new shapes and odd smells assaulted his senses as he ran.

He had only seen you a handful of times.

Bright silver eyes with a smile that could set even the coldest heart into bloom.

Now you needed him.

And he was going to save you.

It was not a question or a matter of chance in his mind. He was meant to find you. It was as if a thread from his chest was bound to a thread from yours and his wolf knew to follow it without question or thought for its significance.

I’m coming, little Luna. Hold on.

Your nose was not yet fully developed, but the stench creeping through the air toward you was unmistakable.

Unblessed.

A soulless wolf.

The last time you encountered it was after a hunt. Your father killed one who attacked him and he brought it home for you to scent.

So you could recognize the smell of danger.

Gradually two shining eyes emerged from the darkness, yet unlike the wolves of your village, these were dark and fathomless-

Hungry.

You couldn’t tell much about its age or coloring, it was too thin - too dirty, but the bared teeth and steady progress closer signaled its intent clearly.

“Please,” you whispered, as it crouched back on its hind legs, preparing to strike.

Tears blurred your vision as you heard it leap forward.

But the strike never came.

Another wolf tackled it to the ground before it could reach you. The two of them tangled viciously in the moonlight; a terrifying mass of snarling and claws.

The smaller fighter was already bleeding, but he clamped down on his opponent’s throat in the first hit and hung on to it even as the animal snapped and scratched brutally at his skin.

Jimin could feel his strength beginning to fail him. The pain was excruciating, but he had to endure. If he let go, he was lost-

You were lost.

So he held.

And at last the soulless wolf collapsed on top of him.

For a moment, all was quiet.

Jimin felt the wounds over his hide begin to tug at the edge of his consciousness. Accelerated healing could only do so much... He was hurt badly.

Then two small hands began to push at the unblessed corpse. Small huffs and heaves poured from you as you worked to free him from beneath his defeated foe.

“Don’t be afraid, Silver,” you grunted, “Momma says the healing works best if you can get warm.”

With one final heave you disposed of the beast as best you could, then moved to wrap your body around your injured champion.

“I can help,” you whispered, letting the tears fall freely. His soft whimpers were the only reply you received as you snuggled in closer, running your hands gently over the soft fur.

The young wolf’s eyes were already beginning to lose focus.

“Please goddess,” you begged into the night. “Please save him.”

Then the two of you drifted into a heavy sleep.

Jimin opened his eyes again just as the dawn broke.

He was still in wolf form, but the pain of his injuries had lessened considerably.

Either that or he was becoming numb.

His eyes dropped to the figure curled up next to him and his heart stirred. You were so pale… and he could feel your small body shivering violently against his chest.

She will not last much longer...

It took nearly everything he had to stand to his feet and nudge you awake.

“Will you bring me back, Silver?” you asked weakly.

Jimin nodded and the two of you stumbled forward into the forest, trusting the vague recollections of his wolf instincts to lead you home.

Isa was beside herself with worry. Wolves came and went throughout the night-

But there was still no sign of you.

And the odds of a child surviving the woods alone with no heat and no protection were slim at best.

Her hands shook as she gathered feed for the horses from the storeroom near the back of the house. She willed herself to complete the task - any task - in an effort to busy her mind and perhaps achieve a moment of respite.

Her hand closed around the back door handle and she started forward - only to nearly lose her balance over something lying on the porch.

The bucket of feed dropped from her grasp, sending kernels of grain in all directions.

Two bodies lay in a heap at her feet, clutching one another desperately. The Luna and her silver wolf were covered in matted blood and dirt.

But they were alive.

Isa began to scream, drawing out the other two occupants of the house; her husband Roojin and his younger sister, a beta healer named Ryn.

“Oh my goddess,” Ryn gasped, “that’s the Park alpha! I heard some of the elders saying that he hadn’t checked in last night!”

“Get them inside. If we don’t act quickly we could lose them.”

Roojin tried to lift you away from the wolf, but the action was enough to rouse you and you immediately began to kick and scream frantically.

“No! I won’t leave him!” you sobbed, wrapping your body even tighter around the injured pup. “Silver, wake up! Please wake up!”

“Baby you need to let him go! We have to treat him!”

But you were frantic, refusing - violently - to be separated from your rescuer.

Ryn was eventually forced to grab a syringe from her field kit to sedate you.

Isa carried your limp body to the fireplace and began to peel off your wet clothes while Ryn and Roojin dealt with Jimin’s injuries in the kitchen. Blood dripped over the tabletop and puddled ominously on the floor while they worked.

“It looks like he was attacked.” Ryn’s eyes began to water. “What a brave little boy.”

“How the hell did he survive this?”

“I don’t know, but without a healing touch he’ll die.” She ripped her gloves off and rolled up her sleeves. “Stand back.”

Twenty minutes later Isa and Roojin caught the young healer as her legs gave out from under her. She had poured the majority of her energy into restoring the young Park alpha - perhaps more than was strictly safe-

But he would survive and that was all that mattered.

“I must contact the elders,” Isa murmured as she helped Ryn to a seat near the hearth. “In all the chaos I forgot to tell them that we found her.”

Roojin sighed, letting his eyes drift back to the table.

“That pup brought her back, but I wonder if they’ll even believe it. I wouldn’t - not if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”

“No...” Ryn whispered from the chair. “You can’t tell them about the boy.”

“Why not? He’s the only reason she’s still alive. He deserves to be recognized.”

“You don’t understand,” she shook her head weakly. “His clan is nothing. They have no power - no other alphas. This will make him a target. The alpha pups will challenge him and the stronger clans will see him as a threat to their influence…”

She pulled herself upright and limped over to the table where the young wolf slept.

“But he's just a child….and small for his age at that. He has no powerful clansmen to protect him from the ramifications of this.”

Her hands clenched to fists.

“When his human form returns, he won’t remember saving the Luna. We’ll take him to his mother’s home at nightfall - make it seem like he wandered back. He may garner some respect for surviving the woods, but then they’ll leave him alone… and he can go on living his life in peace.”

Ryn turned to face them both with a determined expression.

“We owe him that.”

“Where is the silver wolf? Where have you taken him?”

As soon as the sedative wore off you reached for the boy once again, only to find that he was gone.

“The silver wolf was hurt very badly, sweetheart. Your aunt carried him away to be treated.”

“I have to go with him! He needs me!”

“No, honey - you can’t-”

Isa pulled you into her arms and you collapsed into helpless sobs. The last twenty-four hours had finally caught up with you.

You were too weak to fight back.

“Luna… the silver wolf is in danger. Are you willing to keep him safe?”

You nodded fiercely, letting the flow of your tears soak through your mother’s sleeves.

“Then you must never tell another soul that the silver wolf saved you. No one can know that he was with you in the forest.”

Your eyes narrowed in confusion.

“But-”

“You will tell everyone that you found the way back alone. Do not mention the silver wolf.”

Isa lifted your chin till your eyes met hers.

“Promise me, Luna.”

Your heart squeezed painfully in your chest as you thought of your champion. He had spared you from a gruesome fate and you did not even know his name.

You wanted so desperately to thank him.

Last night, you were so cold - so afraid - that you hadn’t said it...

Now you never could.

So instead you would protect him - no matter what it cost.

“I promise.”

———◐———

Today...

———◐———

“I don’t like him.”

Jimin tilted his head slightly toward his best friend.

“Who?”

Taehyung took a long sip of water then moved his hand to cover his mouth. To an outside observer he would appear to be wiping excess liquid from his lips.

“The senior envoy from the Iron Claw pack.” He shook his head. “Something about him is off. He’s ill at ease.”

All the major packs of the mountain nations dispatched representatives to greet and solidify their relations with the new Alpha.

Any pack who failed to send a proper delegation risked a diplomatic incident.

The first twenty-four hours held great significance when it came to the transfer of power. The official term for the tradition-packed period between the revelation of the Alpha and his ultimate reunion with the Luna was called “The King’s New Moon.”

The new moon was the darkest phase of the lunar cycle and the immediate separation from his mate was meant to be a test of the Alpha’s restraint and bearing.

Jimin wanted to put his fist through a wall.

He missed you.

Fighting Namjoon was nothing compared to the torture of this bureaucratic circus.

As the day progressed he was extremely grateful to have Yoongi and Taehyung at his side. Yoongi agreed to act as interim Praetor while Namjoon recovered and he and Taehyung were quick to fill in any knowledge gaps Jimin had with regards to protocol.

The first round of ceremonial greetings between packs dragged on more than an hour before the bell struck for a brief recess. In fact, until Taehyung’s rather strange pronouncement, nearly every moment played out with boring predictability.

Though there was one notable surprise.

Apparently the Iron Claw pack had just undergone a change of leadership and was now under the command of a female alpha named Azira Kai.

Authority in the Iron Claw pack was traditionally decided through combat, and Azira beat nearly thirty-five challengers to ascend as queen.

Female alphas were extraordinarily rare. Jimin knew they existed, but Azira was the first one he’d ever heard of.

Iron Claw’s senior envoy delivered the news himself at the start of the ceremony and personally conveyed the queen’s well wishes.

Jimin eyed the representative in question speculatively from his corner of the table. At first glance the man seemed much like every other emissary gathered in the crowded hall to fulfil centuries old obligations. But Taehyung had always possessed a strange sense about people.

His instincts could not be easily dismissed.

“I will keep that in mind,” he whispered as he sent the young man a courteous nod.

The sun had already begun to set when a messenger from the chief elder’s chambers arrived at your door. At long last the ceremonial requirements were drawing to a close and soon the elder’s council would be sending you instructions.

However...‘soon’ could mean anything from twenty minutes to five hours.

“You might as well rest while you can,” Jin teased with a salacious wiggle of his brows. “Who knows what strenuous activity you might find yourself involved in when they finally let that boy loose.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to pretend that your cheeks weren’t burning with embarrassment.

“I will rest, but not for any reason you’re thinking.”

Truth be told, your nerves were a bit… frayed.

A frustration was building within you and nothing seemed to satisfy it. You weren’t even sure what you were wanting, but you definitely wanted it.

“Of course not,” your cousin chuckled as you gathered your gloves and wandered back to the bedroom.

An hour later Jin’s boredom found him snuggled up on the couch near the fireplace reading over an old cookbook from your mother’s pantry.

“Heavens… no wonder Aunt Isa’s kimchi is so dry. This is a disgrace.”

Suddenly the front door began to shake and pound violently. Strange smells carried through the air and his eyes widened.

Foreign wolves.

He drew in a deep breath and immediately growled in frustration.

Foreign alphas.

A small bowl of red powder sat on the mantle above the hearth. Jin just barely managed to toss it into the flames before the door splintered off its hinges.

“Hello boys,” he drawled, unleashing a massive dose of pheromones while the knives strapped to his forearms slid smoothly to his hands. “What brings you here?”

“I just heard the strangest news,” Min Yoongi narrowed his eyes at the small scrap of paper passed to him by one of the council aides.

“Oh?”

The next set of guild masters were making their way to Jimin at a snail’s pace. It would be several seconds before he needed to greet them.

“One of the healers sent word that Namjoon has disappeared from his assigned recovery room.” He shook his head curiously. “Where do you suppose he’s gone?”

Jimin’s eyes widened.

That mangy mutt. He’s probably bent Yunli over every surface of her brother’s house by now. Goddess above! He couldn’t hold out for six more days?

“I’m sure I have no idea.”

I should have killed him. This is a disaster. He can barely walk, how does he expect to-

“The Miner’s Guild is honored to serve at the pleasure of the Alpha.”

Jimin nodded regally and forced up a pleasant smile.

“The honor is entirely mine, Master Lee. I look forward to-”

A loud crash split the solemn hush of the room as a young member of the council guard burst through the heavy wooden doors.

“Red smoke! Red smoke rises from the Luna’s hearth!”

Jimin felt his heart plummet into his stomach.

Chaos erupted immediately.

“Call for the guards!”

“We must notify the healers.”

“The messengers just spoke to her-”

“Is it an attack?”

“ENOUGH!”

The Alpha’s voice cut across the assembly with authoritative resonance.

Every eye turned to him in expectation.

But he could only think of you.

“Jung, lock the building down. Take your clansmen and seal off every entrance.”

Murmurs began to stir through the hall as Hoseok directed his people toward the access points, but he ignored them.

“Choi. Make for the healers. Have a dozen of them meet us there.”

Jimin was already heading for the door. The deadly length of his claws flashed ominously in the firelight.

“Kim, Min, Jeon - with me.”

The three alphas in question fell in step behind him without a word.

The scene at the Luna’s home was nightmarish.

Jimin ran to your room immediately, but all he found was a broken window and the lingering scent of your fear.

His wolf howled in anguish as he fell to his knees and screamed in rage.

At the front of the house four badly beaten bodies lay strewn about the kitchen and living room area. Most of the furniture was destroyed and the scent of carnage soaked the air.

“Jin!”

The omega stood at the center of the rubble. There was a nasty slash running up his right leg and another grievous wound near his ribs.

But his arms were wrapped around a massive foriegn wolf with the thin blade of his favorite knife pressed against the intruders throat.

“What happened here?” Yoongi gasped. “And that smell-” he moved his hand to cover his nose.

“Pheromones,” Taehyung nearly gagged.

His eyes fell to the corpses - examining their injuries with a critical gaze.

“Jin, you dangerous bastard.”

The omega simply smiled and forced the prisoner onto his knees.

“I don’t understand…” Jungkook shook his head.

“He flooded them with omega pheromones... These four were unmated.” The Kim alpha let out a cold chuckle. “He triggered their ruts… and they killed each other over him.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened.

Male omegas really were terrifying.

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed and he considered the scene.

“None of this makes sense. The scent markers are clearly from the Iron Claw pack. They didn’t even bother to mask…”

Jungkook and Yoongi began to search the bodies for any hint of their motives or identity when Jimin returned from your room. His fury was palpable in the air around him.

“Why would anyone kidnap a Luna?” he snarled. “The divine bloodline is sacred to all wolves. Who would be so reckless?”

Jin shook his head.

“I don’t know.” His knife twisted into the prisoner’s neck. “But he does.”

Jimin crouched down in front of the foreigner, fighting every urge in his soul to tear the mountains apart for his mate.

“Where is she?”

The prisoner sneered.

“You may be a powerful Alpha, but you are not of my pack or my blood. I’ll never tell you anything.”

“Oh,” Jimin’s eyes flashed with golden fire, “I think you will.”

Heavy.

That was how you felt.

Your body was sore (like it had been tossed and carried a long distance) and your mind was out of focus (as if everything around you was moving either too quickly or too slowly - honestly you couldn’t quite tell).

You remembered being drugged; some sort of compound pressed against your nose and mouth.

Glass from the window shattered onto your face…

Then unfamiliar scents and unfamiliar hands closed in on all sides.

Too fast for you to react.

Too shocking for anyone to have predicted.

Nothing like this had ever happened and there was no reason to believe it would.

To harm a Luna was sacrilege.

It was simply not done.

What could drive men to such a course of action?

You should be afraid; terrified even.

But you weren’t.

Your eyes fluttered open to take your new surroundings. You could vaguely see the shape of seven or eight wolves - alphas by the smell of them-

And then you smiled.

It wasn’t your usual impish grin or anything close to soft or inviting.

It was a cold twist that crept over your lips as you watched your abductors set up their camp.

After a moment, one of them noticed your strange expression.

“Looks like the little Luna hit her head on the way here,” he called out to his comrades with an amused snort. “You should have been more careful with her, Mac.”

He shook his head and made his way over to where you were tied up. The young alpha reeked so heavily of sweat and self-importance, you almost gagged.

“What’s got you so amused, Miss Luna?”

It was more of a taunt than a question, but your smile widened nonetheless.

“My mate is going to kill you.”

Shock flickered over his features for just a second before he threw his head back and laughed.

“We’ll be long gone before your sweet little alpha even knows we’re here.” He gripped your chin between his fingers and you snarled. “We masked our scent as soon as we got you - and there isn’t a wolf alive that could track our crew through the woods.”

“You’re wrong,” you whispered.

Jimin’s face flashed through your mind - followed immediately by another memory, buried deeply, but never forgotten—

of a frightened little girl and the silver wolf who braved the forest and fought a monster to save her.

“He’ll come for me - no matter what precautions you’ve taken.” You leaned forward a bit, letting the conviction in your gaze blaze through to the depths of your captor’s soul. “And then - he’ll come for you.”

If you are already in the taglist, then I will automatically tag you for the next part! If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know.

And also please tell me what you thought of this update! I am really excited to hear your thoughts! (I know it was kind of unexpected right?) Feedback really does fuel my writing and hearing from you means a lot to me! On days that its hard to write, I go back and I read your lovely words and it makes me want to keep going! I cannot overstate its value in my heart!

2K notes · View notes