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cryptidghostgirl · 9 months ago

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Oooo part 2 of Aka Till Death Do Us Part (Alastor x Mad Scientist!Reader) was interesting

Loved it a lot 😭

Just imagining how reader would meet Lucifer (yes I'mma add some short king love) for the first time, whether this the ep where everyone meets him for the first time or he's just visiting is undecided.

Anyways she's a smart gal, she creates viruses, diseases, etc.. in order to destroy the human race (now demon and angel race), so she tries to befriend Lucifer

He's powerful, he could be her ticket out of the deal she was tricked into. Plus Alastor hates him so even better.

Whether the wife collector is befriending her from his hatred for Alastor (aka trying to steal his ex wife) or because he actually likes her or not is also undecided

But they become buddies, keeping her little secret while playing Alastor as this horrid creature that coerced her into a deal

She might not understand how deals function, but just like Alastor she'll find a way out of it. She won't let him interrupt her work for years again.

Another bonus of befriending Lucifer is she can try and coerce him into giving her some samples (blood, hair, skin, etc..) It'll help with the virus she's creating, along with seeing if there's any cell differences between fallen angels and normal ones.

A/N I literally love this idea. It is so on brand for her if she was tuned in with the world around her enough to realize her hanging with Lucifer even made Alastor mad. Also, not you calling Lucifer 'the wife collector,' that made me cackle.

Till Death Do Us Part pt. 3 (Alastor x Mad Scientist!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader x maybe also Lucifer a little bit if you squint

Previous Parts:

Till Death Do Us Part (Alastor x Mad Scientist!Reader)

Till Death Do Us Part pt. 2

Warnings: I am not a woman nor am I in stem (but an enby in history) so pls be kind about the fact that I don't understand science. Angst, abusive/unhealthy relationship, possessive Alastor. It's not love but its certainly something.

Word Count: 2,176

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Alastor Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

Idle hands are the devil's playthings, wasn't that how the expression went?

It had been a month since that fateful day Y/n had struck a deal with Alastor, tying her to his side once again. She railed against it, fought valiantly, but there was no escaping the constraints of the contract. Never allowed a moment to herself, Y/n's life became a series of involvement in group activities she hated and chastisements from Alastor. She sat at his feet, the collar hanging heavy around her neck as a sort of twisted crown in his eyes. The Radio Demon and his wife, his queen, his prisoner.

She was never allowed out of his sight, Alastor even forcing her to stay in the same room as him, to sleep in the same bed. It was nothing Y/n had any sort of frame of reference for. He had never been like this in life, she had never experienced this sort of metaphorical suffocation. Y/n was adrift, the world a confusing blur around her. Every time she tried to make sense of it, thought she had figured out some small aspect, he changed it all again and left her in a lurch that sent her mind spiraling into unformed chaos.

Even when she managed somehow to stole a spare moment, was able to sneak away to her lab of a room, Alastor found her and dragged her out again. Y/n's continual protests and pleas to be allowed to continue her work, for him to hold up his end of the bargain and deliver her an angel, fell on deaf ears or were merely met with a solitary, fragile 'soon.' For all this time, Y/n had thought Hell to be misrepresented. She had found a true Heaven in Pentagram City, a safe haven, a salve. Now, she knew the true meaning of suffering.

It was different than she had expected. To suffer had always been something physical in her eyes. It had been her victims writhing in pain, it had been the sharp oppression of a world filled with human life. Never had she thought being trapped in her own mind like this could be a curse, rather than a blessed moment of reprieve.

Idle hands are the devil's playthings, wasn't that how the expression went? Y/n's hands were most certainly idle, all she needed was the devil to play with them.

It was just her luck when Lucifer showed up at the hotel, intent on visiting his daughter. Y/n was never the most observant but, since being tricked into selling her soul to Alastor, had become quite wary and watchful of him. It did not escape her notice the way his stance tightened and his eye twitched the minute the King of Hell threw himself through the hotel's double doors and into Charlie's arms.

Y/n watched the interaction carefully from where she sat lazily on the table beside Angel Dust and Sir Pentious. There were exactly three thoughts in her mind. The first was that it was useful to know Alastor hated the man. The second was that Lucifer was standing right before her eyes. He was powerful, maybe powerful enough to get her out of the sticky situation she currently found herself to be in. Not only that, but he was once an angel. This was the most important of the three thoughts, completely eclipsing the other two as soon as they reared their heads. Not quite the real deal but, potentially useful none the less. Getting close to him could mean getting one step closer to her goals. Silently, she slipped down from the table and began to approach the grouping of demons.

With a carful step, she sidled up behind them. Softly, she raised a hand to the back of Lucifer's head, to where his hair peaked out from beneath the edges of his hat. The excitement that rose in her chest was quickly stifled as Lucifer spun around.

"Charlie!" he exclaimed, "Why don't you introduce me to some of your other fr- oh!"

Y/n froze, her hand still raised. She opened her mouth to speak but the words caught in her throat once she caught the glare Alastor was sending her way. Letting out a nervous chuckle, Y/n's hands fell to her sides, clasping behind her back.

"Uh..." Lucifer turned to his daughter, his eyebrows raised.

"Oh, don't mind Y/n," Charlie awkwardly tittered, stepping forward, "she is always a bit... odd but, she is actually our newest guest!"

"Uh-huh." Lucifer nodded, his eyes moving back to Y/n and examining her features carefully, "Well, it is nice to be meeting you."

Lucifer stuck out his hand for Y/n to shake but the demon just eyed it warily. The furtive glance she shot Alastor behind his back, and the subtle nod he gave in return, did not escape Lucifer's notice. With another distasteful glance towards his hand, Y/n raised part of her hair up and took it, shaking it firmly.

Lucifer's confusion only seemed to grow as he looked down towards the point of connection.

"Um... okay, then." he hummed in thought as she released his hand.

It was when Alastor went out to solve the problem Mimzy had caused that Lucifer took his chance. All the while, as Mimzy had blathered on to Y/n about the 'good old days' and the shared aspects of their pasts, as soon as the tour of the hotel had ended, she had watched him. Observance was not, however, in her nature. It completely had escaped her notice that, all the while, Lucifer had been watching her as well.

The demon herself was nothing of import. She was strange and unrefined and, to be honest, deeply disconcerting to him in a number of ways. It was the thing lurking beneath it all that caught his attention. There was something going on between that girl and the Radio Demon and Lucifer didn't trust either of them. He may have thought Charlie's dreams to be in vain, known from his own experience how fruitless her project would turn out to be, but that didn't stop him from doing what it took to keep his little girl safe.

Lucifer sidled up beside the girl where she stood, watching the carnage Alastor wreaked with a vague sense of disinterest.

"So, you have a deal with the Radio Demon."

It was a statement, not a question. It was an accusation. Y/n shot into the air in surprise, not having noticed his presence beside her. With wide, analytical eyes, she turned to face him.

"With Alastor?"

"Yep."

"How could you tell?" she asked, leaning forward in curiosity.

"What are you two planning."

Another subtle command that went right over Y/n's head. She sighed, crossing her arms.

"I'm planning world destruction. He wants me to be his wife again and tricked me into this whole..." she waved her hands wildly through the air, "situation."

Lucifer didn't know whether to laugh or to take her out right there. Instead, he shook his head, opting to state in mild shock:

"Married? Again?"

"Yeah. I forced him to when we were alive so people would leave me alone and I'd have some human test subjects for my work. Let me tell you: not my favorite experiment I have ever conducted."

"I..." Lucifer was flabbergasted, struck into silence.

"So he tricked me into a deal. I was hiding from him for decades down here. One little slip up was all it took." she playfully used her hair to hit the side of her head, "Stupid Y/n."

"Where does the again part fit in?"

Y/n raised her eyebrows.

"Really? Why is that the part I have to explain to everyone. I mean, logically, it just doesn't make sense. That should be the question on the bottom of someones list. It shouldn't even be a question."

"Did you get a divorce?"

"In 1930? No. Even I knew that wasn't really an option. I married him to stop people talking, not start it. Besides, he wasn't this much of a bother when we were alive."

"So..." Lucifer prompted after a moment.

"Till death do us part?"

"Ah."

He really did laugh now. Just a light chuckle. Y/n smiled in appreciation.

"There you go. Now, how did you know? About the deal, I mean. Also, why do you guys hate each other so much? I thought you had never met before? And oh! Ohohoh! Also, can I have some of your hair."

Lucifer scoffed, his arms falling loosely from where he had crossed them over his chest to his sides. Charlie had been right, Y/n certainly was odd.

"My hair?"

Y/n nodded her head eagerly. When he gave no response, a concentrated and slightly confused expression flitted across her face. As if struck by a sudden inspiration, she regained her composure once again.

"Oh, yeah. I'm supposed to say 'please' when I ask for stuff. Al always said it was proper manners but I think its just a waste of time to be perfectly honest. It's still the same request, the same outcome. Doesn't really change anything. Why would one word make someone give a totally different answer? I mean, it's just foolish really. Anyway," she cleared her throat, "can I please have some of your hair?"

"I..." Lucifer raised a hand to his forehead, rubbing his temples, "why?"

"Because you're a fallen angel?" Y/n replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "And I want to see what that means?"

Before Lucifer could reply, Alastor stepped back into the lobby, straightening his jacket.

"What a show!" Angel exclaimed, applauding dramatically.

Alastor tipped his head to the side in recognition, his eyes surveying the room. When they fell on Lucifer and Y/n in the corner, his gaze hardened. Y/n payed the commotion no mind. Lucifer, on the other hand, grinned.

"I have a proposal." he hummed, turning back to Y/n.

She narrowed her eyes in sudden doubt.

"You don't like Alastor very much, do you?"

"No...? Of course I don't!" Y/n replied in exasperation, "All he does is keep me from doing my work and drag me around by that stupid chain like a dog. It hurts my neck and..." her voice grew softer and she looked away, fixing her eyes on her interlaced fingers, "and I feel like he's trying to force me into the shape of something I'm not. It's... it's like wearing shoes that are four sizes two small on a twenty mile hike."

Lucifer laughed.

"Well, that certainly is... descriptive. How about we make a deal?"

Her head shot up, her narrowed eyes meeting his once again.

"You're not going to just take my soul like he did, are you?"

"No, of course not my dear. Only lesser demons like him need to do that in order to feel strong, to maintain some sort of power, to get what they want." Lucfier enunciated the last four words sharply, the syllables like needles, "I'm simply offering an exchange."

"That's what he said too."

Lucifer raised his hands to show he meant no harm.

"Look, we don't even have to shake on it. I will give you some of... some of my hair or... whatever... and you will help me get on his nerves, take him down a notch. Who the Hell knows, that might even help you too."

Y/n was silent in thought for a moment. She did want the hair and messing with Alastor seemed all too appealing. Still, there was something eating away at her.

"Would you..." she lifted herself up to Lucifer's eye level with her hair.

Y/n wasn't that much shorter than the king of Hell, just a couple inches. Those couple inches certainly made a difference. Lucifer could have sworn there was a literally electrical spark in the darkness of her eyes.

"You're powerful, yes? King of Hell and all?"

Lucifer nodded.

"Would you be able to help me figure out a way out of this mess?"

It was Lucifer's turn to think now as he mulled the idea over in his mind. Sure, theoretically he probably could but, he had never tried to break another demon's deal and even past that, he didn't know if he wanted to. Y/n was disarming, strange, had mentioned wanting to destroy the world. Lucifer didn't know her well enough to gage if there was any real risk and Alastor seemed to have her on more than a metaphorical leash.

"Maybe." he admitted, deciding on the path of least resistance, the one where he could try and succeed or pretend it was an unknown impossibility all along, "I don't know."

In some strange way, there was something stable about the man before her. Alastor was unpredictable, had sent her life spinning. Lucifer felt safe.

"Good enough for me!" Y/n smiled brightly, "I look forward to working with you."

---

Writing this made me really want to do a Lucifer fic with the idle hands thing.

TAGS:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0@kahlan170@wendyphan01203-blog @fairyv-ice @clarakainda @lunaramune @mcueveryday @luxky-aish @peterpankat @corvid007 @marukun @nanami1chu @i-like-potatoes12533 @boogiemansbitch @apenasandorinha @almond-t0fu @mygoldtears @ahellborn @winterisholding @misty-melody @themetalbabygirl @trash-shoot @clarakainda @ladyscorpion19 @dasimp777 @juskonutoh @simpingsohard @sethianaa @gabile18 @slytherin4ever

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pumpkingas · 3 months ago

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Eprocto thoughts abt spooky creatures (⁠｡⁠・⁠/⁠/⁠ε⁠/⁠/⁠・⁠｡⁠)

Tw: Dub/con, Necrophilia ?(Cuz... Zombies)

Zombie 🧟

Literally unable to control their bowels, being dead you don't have the most control over your body...

That sloppy loose spinchter would absolutely collect air, causing constant windy farts, and even though they function as on-command farts the smell would still be HORRID from simply passing through zombie cheeks.

Skin is probably rotting which is gross HOWEVER... It'd be extra soft and elastic, you could knead it like dough, maybe help work some of that trapped air out??

Maybe they're sentient but still hungry?? Maybe you're a zombie lover and collect piles of rotting meat from the dumpsters behind grocery stores to take to your zombie pal?? Maybe they over indulge and lie down with a huge bulging gut that stretches way beyond living limits??? Maybe bubbly farts slip out of their ass as they groan and pant??? Maybe all the blood from that red meat sends them into a burping fit???

Werewolf 🌕

I think we can all agree werewolf diets are GNARLY, if not for being their soulmate/Luna/omega (and so on and so forth), they'd probably eat YOU if given the chance. Expect your freezer to be emptied out obviously, but also your refrigerator and cabinets. Raw meat, deli meat and nut bars will start to go missing, but soon it will be sauce bottles, leftovers with freezer burn, jars of olives and all kinds of pickled foods. Their breath will quickly smell like vomit if you don't own a werewolf proof kiddie gate.

Although they have stomachs of steel and likely wouldn't experience stomach troubles or bloating, you'll quickly become witness to the nastiest farts ever released into the atmosphere. They'd range from loud and quick duck quacks to long rumbling motor engine farts. The smell might not compare to rotting meat levels but werewolf stench will NEVER leave you, it will singe your nose hairs, coat your walls, sink into your fabrics, even soak into leather, like a skunk gone wrong.

Even if they're in their human form that ass is still going to be COVERED in hair, no matter the age, gender, sex, whatever, what's a wereWOLF without its fur? And how willing are you to spend hours helping a gassy werewolf wash the jungle in-between their fat cheeks?

If you're in its pack or are at least a candidate to join you HAVE to be scented, can't walk around like you're just anyone's human! Maybe it's a thrilling loving process where your werewolf lover sits on your naked form and carefully pushes fart after fart onto each and every body part of yours. Or maybe it's a secretive process from a werewolf that hasn't revealed itself yet, helping with the laundry just to rub your clothing against their crack, working up a sweat so they can drain the sweat drops into your body spray, shampoo and lotion. Taking a nap with your toothbrush between their ass so each bristle will be stained with their scent...

Vampires 🦇

Farts are quiet and SBDs are frequent but not mandatory, usually their gas releases in sort of a hum that vibrates whatever they're sitting on or laying against. Perhaps they have a form of fart echolocation, maybe you've planned a surprise party for a vampire as they got bored of birthdays after their 121st, and instead of reaching for the light switch they just begin to let out bubbly farts as they move around their home.

If you offer your neck to a vampire you better be aware of your diet, if the vampires lactose intolerant you better watch your dairy, if they're sensitive to raw vegetables you'd better cook yours thoroughly, and for the love of anything don't give a vegan vampire your meat eater blood, unless of course you'd like to see them grasp at their stomach and groan, releasing uncharacteristically loud farts and moaning shamelessly...

Suppose this is a vampire that's taken a liking to you, naturally you'll begin to bond with them and it'd intensify after each bite, but the thing is, there isn't exactly a limit to human devotion. One day a vampire could be nothing but someone you cross on the street who makes your heart flutter with no memory of what occurred the night before, and a year later that vampire could be your beloved owner that only speaks to you in commands, whenever they need a chair you're bending over before they can finish their sentence, and when the smell of their own gas begins to bother them how could you not dive between their cheeks and smell it?

#eprocto #pumpkinz #eructo #eproctophilia #fart kink #male farts #female farts #gender neutral #gender neutral farts #uh #hairy #tw necrophillia #zombie k!nk #do you have to censor that...#finally living up to my username GEE WIZZ #definitely gonna add on to this later with other creatures!!!!

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 1 month ago

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Did I read somewhere in the tags "I love this concept I want to do more with it"? I'll gladly yap and ramble!

I've listening to music box songs lately, very emotional and melancholic so this anon here is in the mood for some good angst but needs fluff too. I'll keep referring to Abyss Vessel Reader as such, mainly to sort the AUs, but if you have other label for them I'll take it too.

So Abyss Vessel!Reader probably can touch others, Skirk and Arlecchino can after all, but they have a lot of power within. Maybe Reader it's like that too, surprisingly, their Abyssal power doesn't corrupt other people further and they're immune to it... they're completely immune to it after years of harnessing it, living with it, fusing with it to the point it has become a core part of themselves. Any area afflicted by Abyssal power doesn't affect them in the slightest, and sometimes they don't control their strength in fighting.

They're touch starved to some extent, they must be nomads with an imposing appearance and/or aura; forming meaningful relationships after being manipulated it's difficult for them, and having been forced to do things by the people of the now fallen Khaenri'ah must have made them develop trust issues too. I'd love a Reader who's this Abyssal human-like being but so jarred and scarred emotionally that they are the most tender and kind people one could find, always aching when they see what the Abyss does to others or the land. But even if they're such a gentle soul, they're extremely lonely...or they were, until they met Foul Legacy, and for once they felt somewhat understood not only by him but also Childe, because both have witnessed the horrors and the beauty of the Abyss, and both share those lightless eyes.

Maybe I rambled too much? I lost track of it in the middle. Sorry, my train of thought is more like a rollercoaster

— 🕯️ Anon

*scribbles down notes furiously* keep talking KEEP TALKINGGGG

it's as if all the kindness and light the Abyss could have had was coalesced into your being, despite the corrosion flowing through your veins. you cry bitterly upon seeing what the Abyss has done to the upper world, tears coming out thick and purple and glimmering as you sob against Foul Legacy's shoulders. all he can do is hold you close, running his claws up and down your back with comforting croons and trills. he tries to keep you away from those places, but sometimes you insist on seeing the carnage for yourself, wondering if it's your fault or if the ones who caged you are to blame. perhaps if you just played your role, this wouldn't have happened. maybe you should have just suffered in silence. Legacy growls quietly, tightening his grip and gently nipping at your cheek. stop that. those thoughts. they're horrid little lies trying to consume you inside and out. he doesn't stop holding you until your trembles finally cease, and even then he just adjusts his hold on you, carefully

Foul Legacy, sweet, adorable, wonderful Foul Legacy. you call him your own savior, your miracle, for he saved you from your eternal loneliness. now he goes wherever you go, everywhere and nowhere, until the ends of Teyvat. and he's soft towards you as well, so soft and gentle, curling around you at night and constantly nudging against you during the day. it's a reminder that he's here, just for you, that he's never going to leave. you're both cursed creatures, after all. with no one but each other. Legacy gingerly traces the cracks in your skin, the Abyssal energy on the verge of seeping out as he purrs softly, bumping his forehead against your own in an attempt to get you to pet his hair. the purr turns to a steady rumble as your hands weave through his coppery locks, and for the first time in years, you cry happy tears

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lemariee · 1 year ago

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Chapter 16

They continued walking until they reached a building that resembled some sort of tavern. Her body was out of breath by time they neared the entrance. She most certainly needed to work on endurance given how weak her body felt. Borra seemed to ignore her winded state as he strolled past her, not once pausing for her to catch up. Gerda rolled her eyes and followed him inside.

The tavern was quite simple with it's leaden stoned walls and floor that gave it a comforting vibe. Above them were floating candles that dimly lit the surrounding area. She noticed a large fireplace in the middle of the tavern that provided both warmth and more light. It was all too welcoming. She had the urge to sit down at the nearest table and drown in its warmth. On each side of the tavern were rows of tables and chairs. Many of them were occupied by both fey and humans as they indulged in either mead or food. Gerda felt her mouth water at the smell of whatever was currently cooking in the kitchen.

Without a word or glance Borra once again walked ahead to sit at a nearby table. Gerda felt herself become annoyed by his childish behavior. She wondered why he bothered bringing her along if he was going to act such a way. It was obvious her presence bothered him so perhaps he should've left her at his castle.

She sighed and walked to sit at the chair opposite of him, leaving her facing him. She folded her arms and proceeded to openly glare at him. Her mind circled back to his disturbing exchange with the perverted creature.

"Is there a particular reason why you're staring at me? Your presence has become a nuisance to me so I strongly advise you be wary of your actions." Borra hissed as his eyes met hers with a hard glint to them.

"You nearly sell me off like some common whore to that horrid creature yet have the audacity to call me a nuisance? Have you gone mad?" Gerda responded feeling her cheeks heat up with anger.

"My intentions were not set on selling you. I was simply curious of your worth and to my surprise you're highly valuable. Now enough with your pestering antics, I'm not in the mood for this." Borra roughly said as he continued glaring back at her with vexation.

Gerda studied him for a moment before taking a deep breath to calm her growing temper. She couldn't help but ponder over what the creature had said about her. A part of her was also curious about the mysterious package Borra grabbed.

"I have questions that need answers." Gerda calmly stated with a fixed composure.

"You are in no position to ask questions nor will you ever be so do not even waste your words." Borra callously pointed out as he stared at her with narrowed eyes.

"I need to know what that creature meant about my scent. What is so unique about it that he was willing to pay so much for me? He is not the first creature to acknowledge it and I need to know why. Celtra briefly explained it to me but I know she is withholding information." Gerda asked, eyeing Borra with hopes that he'd provide answers.

Borra's eyes analyzed Gerda for several seconds almost as if he was debating on answering her. At times it was hard for her to read him and right now he was illegible. He then surprised her when he finally decided to answer.

"By now I'm sure you're aware of how keen my kind are when it comes to our senses. Unlike humans we are able to determine our women's fertility and potential of birthing healthy offspring just by their scent. That merchant and other fey are sensing that from you, which should not be possible." Borra explained with deep golden eyes fixated on Gerda.

She blinked several times in confusion wondering why her of all humans had to be cursed with such a thing. She felt disgusted with just the thought of the filthy creatures. She deeply despised them so it made no sense to her. Perhaps it was karma's twisted way of punishing her for her supposed crimes against his kind.

"This is all nonsense. I'm clearly human and our species are not capable of reproducing with each other. I need answers as to why my body is producing this sickening 'aroma'." Gerda said with a grimace of disgust.

"Not my problem. I have much more important matters to focus on and you are the very least of my concerns." Borra nonchalantly said, shrugging with disregard.

"You made it known that I'm your property so it seems that my problems are also yours. Excuse me for feeling somewhat concerned about my safety after what happened back in the cave." Gerda sarcastically hissed between her teeth fighting the urge to control her temper.

"I can assure you 'that' won't happen again so as I had just stated, you are not a priority to me. There's greater issues that demand my attention. A few of my men wanting to fuck you is the least of my troubles." Borra bluntly said while shaking his head in a dismissing motion as if he did not care.

Gerda sharply narrowed her eyes at him with anger spinning inside. Of course he wouldn't care because as he said before, she means nothing to him. However, this new information about her was unsettling and she was once again left with more questions. She then wondered if he too noticed the peculiar fragrance her body was releasing. Surely if the rest of his kind noticed it then that should mean he too could sense it.

"Are you able to detect...this 'scent' on me?" Gerda hesitantly asked feeling her cheeks blush.

She noticed Borra's demeanor shift with discomfort as his expression faltered for just a second. He appeared to be caught off guard by her question, which only confirmed her suspicions. His face then fixed itself into a blank, hard expression before answering her question.

"Yes...but unlike them I would rather remove my wings with an iron sword before succumbing to such desires. What you did to my people easily outweighs any primal instincts within me. I also find weak, powerless, humans such as yourself to be highly unappealing. You have absolutely nothing to offer or contribute that's worthy of my attention." Borra bluntly declared in a rough voice while looking her over with mockery.

"A simple yes would have sufficed. I'm well aware of the deep rooted disgust you carry towards me, no need to go into descriptive details." Gerda scoffed, rolling her eyes at his poetic way of saying he was not attracted to her.

"Now what is in the package you took from the creature?" Gerda confidently asked, wanting to gather more useful information and change the topic.

"Nothing that concerns you. Enough with your prying questions. You are nothing more than my slave and do not have the right to interrogate me on such matters, 'human'." Borra's rigid voice hissed as he coldly glared at her.

Gerda felt somewhat wounded by his words. That hurt shifted into anger knowing that his words were after all true. He took so much pride in reminding her that she is scum. She desperately needed to remove herself from him before she broke apart.

"I'm going to find a garderobe of some sort here." Gerda announced as she stood up from her chair and attempted to walk away.

Before she managed to get past Borra, his large hand snatched her by the wrist. She stumbled back when he roughly yanked her towards him.

"Do you mistake me for a fool? I do not recall allowing you to leave my presence." Borra hissed as his grip tightened on Gerda's wrist earning a gasp from her.

"I wish to relieve myself, now remove your hand from me, 'creature'." Gerda loudly demanded, causing several heads to glance their way.

He then stood from his chair with a fuming expression that made her legs go numb. She felt the bones in her wrist protest with pain as his hand angrily squeezed it till her palm began to tingle. He forcefully pulled her in as he leered down at her with a clenched jaw.

"I'm going to warn you one final time since you still seem to lack respect towards me. Do not ever speak to me in such a manner again unless you want a shattered arm. Am I understood?" Borra aggressively whispered to her with hostile eyes causing Gerda's lips to shakenly tighten together in fear.

"Y-Yes." She whispered feeling her voice tremble as she stared back at him with watery eyes.

"If you need something then you will ask for my permission, I will no longer tolerate your disobedience so let this be the last time you cross me." Borra warned Gerda as he finally let go of her now throbbing wrist.

Gerda immediately cradled her forearm as her numb hand painfully pulsated once the feeling returned. She glared at him feeling her blue eyes sparkle with mixed emotions due to his belligerent treatment towards her. Her hands ached for the sharp thorn tucked in her bodice with a thirst to paint the walls with his blood.

"May I...use the garderobe?" She shakenly asked, while trying to ignore the pain in her wrist.

Borra carefully studied her with cautious, stern eyes that made her regret asking him. She had no hidden motives but he made her feel guilty of something she hadn't done yet. It all made her feel pathetic and disappointed with herself for being so emotionally and physically vulnerable around him.

"Follow me." He finally said in a indurate tone.

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enigma-im · 4 years ago

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Eighth day of Christmas...

Trope: Heat (NSFW) Relationship: Werewolf x Human Word Count: 7,058

I knew the moment I stepped off the bus that I was in trouble. From the horrid heat and melting pot of people, this was going to be a challenge. The dry air nearly made me cough the second I got off the steps. Everyone seemed as annoyed with the environment as I, which is a small relief. Looking around at all the people was both a relief and a nightmare. We all had no idea what was going on but I knew I stood out like a sore thumb.

"You," someone shouts, silencing the crowd. I look around till I spot a hardened older Soldier making his way towards me. The crowd splits before he can charge through. The man glares daggers at me before stopping uncomfortably close.

"Me," I ask, pointing to myself with unease.

"Yes, you," he shouts," what other mutts around here would I be talking to?"

"Right," I nearly drop my shoulders," what do you need?"

"I wanted to get a look at the first werewolf soldier who gets to become my guard dog for this year," he answers, appraising me with discontent," I expect excellence from you, mutt, this few months you will be chewed up and spit out a better dog than a better man. You have big shoes to fill, guiding your kind into the future and not a single one of us will give you an inch or centimeter to make mistakes. Do I make myself clear, private!"

I feel a bit wobbly at his words," uh, yes."

The man leans closer to my face, shouting despite the distance," What was that, mutt? Stand tall, be loud! Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," I stand at attention, my stomach rolling into knots.

"That's better," he steps back," Now follow me."

The crowd splits again as the Drill Sargent stomps onward. As he passes, the young men and women look to me, a good mix of intrigued and disgust decorates the group. I straighten my shoulders and march after the man, keeping my head held high with pride.

The first werewolf to join the military, I got a lot to prove.

Conversation with the higher-ups of the camp was tense. I didn't expect it to go as well as it did, though a few sly jokes were made at my expense. They were all weirdly supportive of having me at the grounds, looking forward to trying out their new regimen for my kind. Having a stronger and more capable creature in their boot camp came with its own challenges it seems. They all seem excited to see what I can do.

A lot was explained, trying their best to just keep things running smoothly. No one was going to go easy on me and I'm expected to surpass even the best of their squads. I'm oddly invigorated to take on this challenge.

"With everything all situated, is there anything else we may need to know," the Executive officer asks. He is a sweet man, to my surprise, and has been appreciatively thorough with his preparations.

"Yea, we don't want any issues to come about with having you here. A lot of the soldiers are looking to make an example of you already, though you've done nothing wrong. So if there is anything we have to prepare for then please make light of it now," the senior drill sergeant explains.

"Nothing that I can envision happening here. I'm here to work and become the first in a line of werewolves to join the armed forces. Things will remain respectable on my end so if anything does go wrong I promise it won't be my fault," I answer. A big moment like this I can't even fathom screwing it up with some stupid actions. Let the people make their jokes and rude comments, I'm not bothered in the slightest.

"So we aren't going to catch you humping one of the other recruit's legs, right," the senior drill sergeant jokes.

"Don't want you going into heat and trying to fuck every woman in a mile radius of you," the executive officer joins in. I smile despite the discomfort, shaking my head before explaining.

"No, no, I may turn into a big mutt but I'm not so savage as to do something like that. Don't believe the women would be too receptive to me doing such a thing either. When little Fido does it, it's funny. When I do it, it's enough to get me sent to jail," I joke with them. The two laugh, easing some of the tension.

"But you do go into heat, don't you," senior drill sergeant asks," we look out for medical emergencies and if that will become an issue, let us know ahead of time."

I shake my head," no, that won't be an issue. We only go into heat for a specific person and finding them here would be one hell of a terrible time but I highly doubt it will actually happen. I'm sure I would have smelled them in the crowd if so."

"Specific person," the officer snickers," how romantic, Fido."

"Sounds romantic but I've seen some friends go into rut over their mates, it's not that romantic," I wince, remembering all the fights," it's not a hallmark movie moment, sir."

The officer cocks a brow, wary," I'm almost tempted to ask but I'll refrain for now. Either way, I'll have sergeant Crews bring you to your barracks, and hopefully, we won't have to speak again anytime soon."

I drop off my things at my bunk, sorting them into a chest before heading off to P.T.

The first week of basics is easy, though I'm warned about next week after some miss placed words. My squad takes to me nicely, though I can do without the nicknames. It's a better week than I could hope for after the horror stories from active duty members.

We all sit in the crowded mess hall. Murmurs of conversations can be heard over the disgusting chomping of food. In times like this, I almost wish I didn't have such great hearing. The wet slobbering is beginning to turn my stomach.

"Hey, Spot, is it true you transform on the full moon," Casey, a fellow recruit, asks beside me. I snort, picking at the slop on my tray.

"No, I can do it whenever I want," I answer," full moon thing was for you people to pin some other garbage on the magnetic effects the moon has on the earth."

"oh, wow, movies lied to me again," he lightly bangs his hand on the table," what about silver? Does that do anything for ya?" I scoff, looking at him a bit amused. It has been a lot of teasing but I haven't had anyone sit down and ask before.

"No, silver doesn't do anything for me. Neither does holy water, crosses, or garlic," I tease. Casey rolls his eyes, looking back to his meal with a pout.

"I'm not an idiot, those are for vampires," he grumbles. I chuckle, amused by this human's questions. As I tease the man some more I catch a wondrous smell.

"Besides, I know a normal bullet would work on you anyway," Casey points his fork to me. I can't pay him any mind as I slyly glance around. My heart is racing and pounding against my chest as the smell completely engulfs me. Please no, not now. As I'm looking towards the door I freeze as someone walks behind me. As if everything slowed to a halt I look to the recruit walking over to her table. I can't help but gawk though her attire isn't much to be aroused by.

Brown hair pinned up in a bun and terribly fitted brown and camouflaged clothing. It's meant to be plain and nonattention grabbing but she makes it work. My body thrums with need as I watch her sit at the end of the bench. I can't look away as she eats, looking at her lips like a starved man. I want her, I need her. It's the only thought that runs through my mind.

She couldn't come into my life just a few months later could she?

The whole day I feel like I'm on fire, sickly and distraught. I haven't even been here this long and I feel like I'm about to ruin everything. Surely I can just explain to the XO that I have to deal with this and get right back to basics. I nod, it won't be such a long delay, I'll be right back here shortly.

I head straight to the office, stubbornly marching past the groups still running about. The heavenly smell barely permeates the hot dry air but still nearly knocks me on my ass. My attention snaps straight to her doing push-ups with her squad. She makes quite the sight all sweaty and focused. I can't help but stop and watch.

The squad's drill sergeant walks the rows, screaming motivating insults to them all. My little mate grits her teeth as he passes by, her arms shaking each time they straighten. The sergeant stops before her, crouching down as she stays propped up.

"Getting tired there, private," the sergeant baits," want to take a little break, perhaps?"

"No, sir," she barks out.

"Then get that face in the dirt, let's go," he snaps back at her. The urge to run to the man and deck him in his hooked nose is strong. I have to shake my head of the thought to actually get some semblance of control. She gets back to her exercise, going hard and strong into her next set with a stiff focus on her face. It's admirable to see anyone as determined as she looks. It picks at my heart a bit.

I'm not just taking away this chance for me momentarily but her too. Would she want to take the time off to deal with me? It can't be that big of an issue but starting over has to be something she rather not do. I sure as hell don't want to start the week over even if it wasn't too difficult. She is human so it had to be hell for her. I hum, chewing my cheek.

With fist clenched I turn away from the offices and head back to my barracks. I'll just wait this out, three months is nothing. I can keep my cool that long.

I kept that line of thinking all up till I got to my bunk. The barracks are quiet, the snores of the recruits barely registering to my non-idle thoughts. Every part of me is racing, my heart, thoughts, limbs. I have way too much energy to just sit here. Closing my eyes does nothing but let the thoughts keep me up. I've never had such an issue before, especially here.

Staring up at the ceiling I think of my little mate. She's a cutie, that's for sure. Even with the unflattering get up I can't ignore the appeal of her body. She has strength, as does most of the people here, but watching her do exercises with her squad showed more than just basic strength. I smile to myself as I think about the determined look she had while finishing her set. I have a strong little mate.

I groan as my mind keeps replaying the scene over and over. I can only pray that the rest of the month won't be like this. Turning onto my side I force my eyes closed, trying my damndest to get even a few hours of sleep.

The next week I'm weirdly filled with energy. Every morning I wake up excited to do runs, outpacing everyone by miles as I speed down the dirt track. Exercises become a blessing and every moment I spend sitting down is one where I'm anxious to get back up. The nights are no better, my body humming with unspent energy. It feels amazing to get out there and work.

Sitting at the lunch table I shovel food into my mouth, leg bouncing under the table. I want nothing more than to get back out there and get rid of this energy but lunch is kind of important. As I unflatteringly gulp down the muck an erotic scent ceases my tension. Flowing over my body like a warm shower. I close my eyes, taking in the calm.

"So, I gotta ask," a woman before me asks," do werewolves generally have this puppy energy, or is it just you because watching you hall ass down the track is almost inspiring."

As I open my eyes I'm left gawking at the woman. My beautiful mate sitting just across the table, smirking with her arms crossed. I swallow hard, feeling oddly nervous at this moment. What should I say? Should I say something? She quirks a brow at me, waiting for a reply.

"uh," I clench my pants under the table," depends on the person?"

She hums," is that a question or an answer?"

I straighten," a-a answer, ma'am."

"Hey, lighten up," she knocks on the table," don't need any of the ma'am business. I just wanted to ask, you have been buzzing like a bee this past week and I was kind of hoping it was something I could learn instead of it being genetics." my palms feel clammy the more she speaks. She's so casual, I almost wish she wasn't. I can handle stupid full moon questions over this. I wipe my hand on my pants.

"Sorry, it's all genetics," I give her a half-smile," blessings of the father I'm afraid to say."

She props herself up on crossed arms, her breast squeezing together," so was your mom human? I didn't think you can cross-breed like that." my eyes flick down to her pushed out chest, gulping hard I look down to my hands. I wipe my palms on my pants.

"No, a werewolf can b-breed with anyone," I meet her eyes," just has to be their mate."

"Awe, that sounds cute," she coos. Before she can add anymore the sergeants come in to collect their squads. I watch her look to the crowd, her shoulders dropping. She turns back to me," well, was nice talking with ya, Cujo." with that she leaves.

I remain seated as everyone begins filling out. Looking to my lap I groan in frustration, I never felt more like a measly runt than right now. Couldn't even talk to her and I'm sitting here with a full chub. I look to the crowd once more, catching sight of her turning out of the doorway. Fisting my pants I whimper lowly in my throat.

If I knew talking with her would make things worse then I would have never done it. The night we first spoke was tenser than any before. I feel like ants are crawling all over my skin, my body unbelievably hot. My blankets feel scratchy and too rough on my sensitive skin. I can hardly sleep as all I can think about is that beautiful woman smiling at me from across the table. Her ample chest just perched on her crossed arms. My loins lurch at the thought, aching to a degree I've never experienced.

I fall onto my back, panting as I kick the blanket off myself. Looking down myself in the dark barracks I see the tent in my pants. I groan, thumping my head against the pillow. A boner over a minute conversation with a girl, surely I couldn't stoop so low. I peak at my lap, groaning again as I flex my toes. Perhaps a little attention can soothe the beast?

Timidly I slide my hand down my stomach, fingers sneaking under the hem of my pants. I grab the base of my shaft, squeezing it while slowly closing my eyes. Just have to do this quickly and I got to get some sleep. With the task in mind, I aim for fast. I pump my fist, going harder than I've usually started. My callused hand feels uncomfortable, not helping the smooth glide I need. I take my hands out of my pants and lick my palm before trying again.

I jerk off, feeling itchy and frustrated as I do. I try to get it out and done before anyone can wake up to notice but I can't get into it. Trying a new tactic I relax on the bed. Keeping my eyes shut I slowly pump my fist up and down my shaft, pleased with the torturous glide. An image of my mate sitting across the lunch table pops in my head, my cock twitching at the picture. I admire her harden face, the beauty in her full cheeks when she smiles. I wince as my fingers glide over my tip.

The image shifts as I stare at her tits resting on the table. They are laid bare, her sweet little nipples hard from the cold lunchroom. My cock pulses as I think about reaching over the table to grab her, grazing my hand over her little buds. A whimper tries to bubble out from my throat, the sound surprising. I can't pay it any mind as I imagine tweaking her nipples, watching her face twist in pleasure. In my palm my cock aches, demanding more as I pump harder.

The scene twists, she's bent over the table with her tight ass presented to me. I whimper again, bucking into my fist. A bulge nudges against my hand with every descent. It would be something to investigate if I wasn't so tempted to continue. I picture lining my dick up with her weeping slit, gently pressing my tip in with a retrained grunt. Another whine leaves me, the base of my cock throbbing worst than the rest of me. As fantasy me bottoms out inside her I bite my fist to reject the whimper trying to cry out.

"Fuck," I mumble in a cry. I jerk till I can feel my body shiver in its impending climax, utterly debauched at the fantasy playing out. As I reach my breaking point I grip the hard bulge at the base of my cock, squeezing as hard as I can as I cum in my boxers. My grip pulses as I unload all over myself.

My grip eases slightly as I catch my breath. I feel disgusting as the wet fabric sticks to my tip. Looking down my body I wince at the damp stain. I tug down my pants and catch a look at my still hard dick, I furrow my brow confused. Generally, I'm soft shortly after, not still ragingly hard. I look to the bulge still cupped in my hand. Well, that's new. I test a squeeze. A shot of pleasure jolts up my spine making my head feel fuzzy. I nearly curl into myself at the surprise. That's definitely new.

I take one more glance at myself, wincing at the sight. I'm no fresh pup, I know what's pulsing at my base. I just didn't think it would come out without being buried inside someone. Sighing, I tuck myself away and attempt to get some sleep. I wince at the sticky fabric, suddenly regretting not waiting till a more opportune time to do this.

Circling the track for the 2nd time I catch up with the squad. Everyone is taking a breather, panting hard after the three miles. I casually jog up to them, still vibrating with energy.

"How can you even do this, air bud," Scott grabs at his knees," I knew there would be running but…fuck."

I look at him bemused," air bud?"

"Well it's like my dog, Rufus," another squad member claps me on the shoulder," would just run around for hours once I let him outside." I look between the two.

"I just like running," I answer," I feel rather energetic lately."

We all talk as I bounce on my heels. The sergeant rounds us all up before heading off to the next part of PT.

We begin jumping jacks in our lines, listening to the drill sergeant scream encouragements. Looking off to the side I catch sight of another squad doing their miles. They all seem rather calm, must be their first mile. I watch them go by, just briefly catching sight of my little mate in the middle of the crowd. A smile curls on my face as I watch her run along. Her arms pumping and chest bouncing. A raging need thrums into my veins, my cock standing to attention. I watch her in a daze.

"What are you doing, boy," someone shouts, grabbing me by the back of my shirt. I stumble as I'm tugged backward, torn from my stupor. Catching my bearings I realized I've tried to walk out of formations, ignoring my exercises in favor of following her delicious smell.

"uh," I shake my head," Sorry, saw a squirrel." I half-smile, hoping the joke would land. He grits his teeth, tugging me back in line.

"I'd make you run another set but I think you would enjoy that, instead you're on patrol tonight, Fido," he shouts, walking back down the line," Let's start again, from the beginning. One, two, three…"

Lunch has me excited, feeling like my tail is ready to sprout out and reveal my pleasure. I quickly shovel down my muck, looking around like an eager pup for any sight of her. Spotting her coming out of the line and heading my way I can't help but wipe my face and straighten my clothes. I nearly bounce in my seat as she gets closer.

"So you do have a tail," Scott tugs on something behind me. I grunt, twisting around with a growl. Out of the corner of my eye I catch sight of my fluffy black tail.

"Ah, fuck," I grumble, looking to her coming closer then back at my tail. Without much thought, I pin it between the bench and my thigh.

"Hello, Cujo," she greets," you're endless energy for exercises will never cease to amaze me." she sits down at the table, her tray clanking against the metal. My tail tugs, wanting to break free. I open my mouth to answer, interrupted by someone clapping me on the back.

"Yea, it's making the rest of us look bad. He makes three miles look easy," Tyler jokes as he sits beside me.

"well, it is easy, you guys are just out of shape," she jokes back. I snort, glancing at the offended men on either side of me. My mate has a sense of humor I see.

"haha, hilarious, G.I. Jane," Tyler deadpans.

"It's funny you should say that because I caught you slacking behind your crew today," Scott props his smug face on his hand," it's bad enough they let dogs in the military but you women have a lot more to prove." I can't help but sneer at Scott.

She glares at him, crossing her arms and leaning forward." yea, well what's your excuse, cadet?"

Scott leans forward as well," got a handicap, love, hard to run with three legs."

My mate snorts a chuckle, shaking her head as she grabs her food," What kind souls the higher-ups are to let you join with such a clear handicap."

Scott bounces his brow," you know it, baby. I'll be happy to show you my treatment options, perhaps you can help?" I stiffen at the suggestion, my limbs and chest tightening as Scott continues to flirt. A low rumble climbs up my throat, back arching as I glare at him.

"Think I'll pass, I heard that men with large dicks tend to need too much prep work for a minute of entertainment," she bites back. Scott shrugs as Tyler chuckles, them all going back to their meal. The growl comes out louder, my teeth pricking at my lip as I snarl at him. Scott looks at me, recoiling at the clear aggression.

"You ok, Fido," Scott asks," looks like I'm trying to take your food or something." I feel everyone's eyes on me, confused and concerned. A possessiveness boils under my skin, demanding action against this male. I swallow hard, shaking my head as I glare down at my tray. Reigning back the shift, I shake my shoulders.

"Sorry," I growl," just feeling tense today." everyone nods, quietly eating their meals. I pass a glance to my mate, worried I pushed her away with my lack of control. We look to one another, the edge of her lip tugging up. She looks away with a shy smile gracing her beautiful face. I smile to myself as I eat.

After lunch I go for a run, feeling more anxious than yesterday. I dig hard, making record speed over my fifth mile. My body feels invigorated but anxious as I run. My brain goes a mile a minute, demanding attention to the one person driving me crazy. With Scott's words ringing in my ears all I can do is think about the threat. Someone is encroaching on my territory, challenging my claim.

I shake my head, I haven't claimed her. Hell, I don't even know her name. I run harder. Pictures of her flash through my head, my fantasy of the other night forcing discomfort to my groin. I shake again. Just running isn't doing enough, I need more now.

Slowing to a stop I take off my shirt. Crouching and pressing my fingers to the ground I allow my skin to break. I grunt with my bones snapping and rearranging. The pain feels great, an action my body agrees with greatly. With my claws digging into the dirt and fur bristling in the breeze I bolt down the track on all fours.

cadets and Sergeants gawk as I high tail it around the trail. I breathe heavy, tongue lulled to the side as I hear the air roar in my ears. Everything feels so open and free. This is something I've missed all week. Changing in front of everyone made me feel embarrassed, self-conscious. I'm not like them and proving that could lead to problems. Right now, I couldn't care less. I have other issues to deal with.

After running around for hours I fall in the grass near the tree line, laying on my stomach to bask in the sun. I should be exhausted now, all this mating energy out for the time being. Closing my eyes and resting my chin on my paws I relax. It's a lovely day out.

Sitting there for a moment I feel a burst of energy. I growl. Two hours of running on top of PT this morning, how can I be nearly vibrating with need? This mating business is getting harder and harder to ignore. All I think, hear, smell is her. My cock stirs against my stomach, the hot length pinned to the ground. I growl again.

Making my way to the showers I angrily toss my torn shorts and turn the water on. I step into the cold stream, shocked at the temperature. This should help, I can chill out before patrols tonight. Closing my eyes I press my head against the tiled wall. Not even a second in and I see her. I see her wet and naked before me, giving me eyes and beckoning me forward. I clench my fist and grow as my cock throbs.

"Fine," I grab my erection," you win again."

I jerk myself hard and fast, snarling as I picture pounding into her sweet cunt. Bucking into my fist I imagine her bouncing breast and wonderful cries of pleasure. I need her, I need her so damn bad. Baring my teeth with clenched eyes I feel my base ache. I grab at my knot, pinching it in a tight grip. I can feel my seed go up my shaft, spraying the wall. Whimpering, I pulse my grip on my base, sighing as each drop is let out.

"I can't keep doing this," I whimper," I'm so tired." my cock doesn't soften, even as I turn the water off and dry myself it still aches for her.

Walking the perimeter I look around the dark camp. My uniform feels scratchy and tight as I step. There are bags under my eyes and I'm still filled with energy. I'm tired and hyper at the same time. The walk around the base feels like a dream, hollow and dazed. I'm so sleepy.

The sound of a door opening catches my attention the same time a wonderous perfume punches me in the nose. My head snaps to a shed out a bit of way from the main building. A light is shining out the open door, a shadow cast on the sidewalk. I take another inhale of that sweet scent, my cock pulses.

Like a zombie, I shuffled to the shed. The corners of my vision are distorted as I turn into the doorway. My eyes snap to the person standing at the opposite end next to a shelf. She looks over her shoulder, smiling when she realizes who it is.

"Hey, Cujo," my mate greets," you look like shit, you ok?" she takes a step to me, concerned. A growl snaps out my mouth, my shoulders sagging forward. She recoils, taking a step back. I match her, taking one forward. "Cujo," she tries to say casually but comes out a little worried," you need something from the shed?" I take another step. Her back hits the shelf, startling her as she watches me stalk forward. With all my control out the window, I storm towards her, bracing my hands on either side of her head. My face buries against her neck, taking a large inhale.

"What's your name," I growl out, using the final bit of control I have to ask.

"S-Samantha, my friends call me Sam," she jokes with a timorous hilt. I lick up the taunt tendon of her throat, she shudders. "Cujo," she timidly runs her hand up my arm," what's happening?" I nearly purr at her touch. Her words barely register as I lap at her skin, drunk on her already. I hear the smallest whimper from her, making my ears perk up.

"W-what's your name," she asks as her hand glides up my back to card her fingers through my hair.

"Trevor," I bite at her shoulder," and I can't take it anymore."

"Take what," she says nearly breathless. I can't answer, only having enough thought to grab her thighs and lift her. Her legs wrap around my waist easily, pulling me against her heat. My eyes nearly roll with the friction. With little thought I slowly rock my hips, my tongue licking up her neck to her cheek then licking over her lips. Her fingers tug on my hair, scratching at my skin.

"You want me," she asks. I buck hard into her in answer, she chuckles. "Am I your mate," she asks. A spark starts in my loins at her saying such a thing. Does she accept this? Accept me?

Aching and primed I get her on the ground, licking her as I feel my tail stuck in my pants. My brain is muddled and unfocused, wanting to tear her clothes off and mount her right here. It feels wrong- it feels right. I bite at her shoulder again, frustrated beyond belief as I grind into her.

"S-sam," I whimper," Please."

She tugs on my hair again, snaking her hand under my shirt to pet at my sprouting fur. "What do you want, Trevor," she asks.

"You," I dig my teeth into her skin," you, you, you."

She laughs, rubbing her cheek against mine," then have me, big boy."

In a flurry of need, lust, want, I rip her shirt. I can't bring myself to feel guilty as her nearly naked torso is before me. I lather at her chest, plucking the little strap between her cups with my clawed finger. My tongue wets her nipples, chest, stomach, listening to her little adorable whimpers. I feel frenzied as I shove her pants down and bury my face against her cunt. She smells sweet, tastes like ambrosia.

"Oh, good boy," she grips my hair too tightly. I lap are her folds like a dying man, feeling my body pulse and rejoice. She is amazing and all mine, open and pleasured by me. Her body wiggles and grinds against me, forcing me to hold her hips. Her thighs clamped around my face, nearly covering my ears. I'm pleased to hear her cries and feel her tighten around my tongue as I force it inside her. Oh, by the gods, she's divine.

I continue showering my attentions upon her as she tries to push me away," that's enough, Trevor, I need you." my head perks up at her words. She needs me? I sit up, ripping my already torn shirt off my shifted body. I rush to undo my pants, tearing at them enough for my cock to poke through. I look down at her cunt, licking my chops with excitement. I fall over her, hands framing her head. My hips gravitate towards her, needing her more than air. I whimper as I can't bring myself to plunge into her like a savage. Whimper again I meet her eyes, begging her.

She smiles, reaching up and petting my cheek," go ahead, Trevor, I think I understand." overjoyed I lick her mouth, tail wagging freely now.

Now free to do as I need I look between us and nudge my cock against her. My tip spreads her folds but delving into her awaiting heat is hard. I can't think, instincts taking all my control. I whimper again, looking at her. She smiles sweetly, reaching down and guiding me. I wait eagerly for her to lead me, feeling her place me at her entrance. I shove forward, engulfed easily. I whine and growl as I push as far as I can go. I try to nudge further but my base is already swollen. I chuff.

With my new addiction wrapped around my cock I withdraw before plunging into her divine heat with a heavy breath. This is what I've needed, what I've craved. I can't stop myself from bucking into her hard and fast, demanding everything with each thrust. My ears ring as I'm taken to a world of pure bliss.

Samantha writhes and whimpers with me, grabbing at the fur on my chest. I lean closer, pressing my body to hers. My thrusts begin to shorten till I'm rutting into her with shallow humps. Short uncontrolled bucks that leave my knot knocking at her entrance. An overwhelming need overtakes me. I bump my knot harder and harder against her, demanding entrance with every nudge. With a hard push, she opens more for me. I grunt as I force it, locking her to me with a satisfied sigh.

We both wriggle against each other till I'm left whining against her shoulder, with a well-timed clench on her part I'm bursting inside her. I bite down on her shoulder, marking her as my cum paints her insides. Her walls flutter around me. I listen to her melodious cries as I cum. It's too perfect, too beautiful.

With my cock locked inside her I can't help but wag my tail and lick at her face. She giggles, allowing me to shower her in affection as she rests on the floor. I pamper her, licking at her sweat and cleaning every part I can reach. She is mine now, my wonderful mate.

As my knot begins to deflate I feel the week catch up with me. I collapse on her, my cock softening and falling out. She grunts as my weight is on her. My eyes begin to flutter, my body coming back to its original state. I drift off to sleep without a care in the world.

I awaken in an unfamiliar bed with unfamiliar clothes. Without much thought I sniff out my mate, wanting to roll into her comforting arms. A disgusting chemical smell greets me instead of her warm scent. I jump awake, scared, and worried immediately.

"Whoa, cool it, Spot," someone catches my attention. I snap my eyes to them, seeing a skinny man in normal military attire. The brown shirt and camo pants.

"Where is Sam," I growl, disoriented as adrenaline fills my veins.

"The girl? Probably talking with the XO," he shrugs," should be back here soon." the man looks to his computer on his medical trolley. Feeling he is distracted I jump from the bed and bolt to the door. I can hear him shout but I'm too busy taking in the scents around me. I look left, nothing. I look right, I smell her.

Charging down the halls I turn this way and that as I follow her trail. I feel stressed and angry, to an unbelievable degree. I need her in my sight, in my arms. Her scent leads me to a door, the words on the sign not registering in my mind. I slam it open, spotting her immediately.

"Oh, hey," she smiles as she turns in her chair. She has more to say but I interrupt her. Plucking her from her seat I slam her against my body and bury my face to her neck. I take in her scent, assess her health and the environment. The smell of another makes me stiffen but her fingers scratching behind my ear makes me purr. I can feel my tail wagging behind me.

"Tamed the dog, how cute," someone says. I snap my head to them, nearly growling at my XO. He sits at his desk smug, but still intimidatingly powerful. Though I hold back a sound I can't help but bear my teeth to him.

"Let's not antagonize the pup, alright," Sam jokes. She guides me over to the seats, parting to take her own. Looking from her to the XO I feel the urges again, a primal need to get her out of sight of this male. I shake my head to put myself back into a normal mindset. Reluctantly I sit down.

"Now the excitement is over, Cadet Trevor Galius. You are relieved of training till further notice along with Cadet Samantha Backster," he says calmly. I stiffen at the dismissal, looking at Sam in clear worry. Will she be mad? This is exactly what I wanted to avoid, taking her choice away. Sam glances at me with a disarming smile. I remain wary.

"For how long," I ask.

"Till next January, that's when winter training starts. For now, I encourage you two to settle all that needs to be settled before then," he glares over to me," I'd hate to have a repeat of this semester." I wince, looking down at my lap.

"Will this put a delay on werewolves being allowed in the armed forces," I peak up at my XO. He smiles to himself, dropping it quickly.

"I admire your dedication to this cause but no, there be no delay for werewolves. I hope you don't mind too much not being the first one," he answers. Most of my worries melt off at his words. The only person I'm potentially holding back is Sam, no one else has to suffer for my lack of control.

"That won't be a problem, sir," I answer.

With no final notes, we are dismissed. I walk with Sam out into the hall, fidgeting all the while. We walk out of the main building in silence. Should I say something? Is she mad? I pass glances at her, looking for any signs of distress. She gives nothing away.

"Just ask, I know it's killing you," she bites her lip to stop her grin. I fall apart, reaching out and pulling her against me. I can't take not touching her.

"Please don't be mad at me. I didn't want to force you out of training like this but trying to hold back was killing me. I'm so sorry," I whimper into her hair. She awkwardly pats at my back as I apologize.

"I'm not mad," she answers," far from it. I'm rather excited about all this. Like, it's not every day something like this happens."

I recoil from her, confused," you're not mad?"

She shakes her head," no, I actually had some guesses around our second conversation."

I look at her bemused," you did?"

"Yea, I knew about the werewolf mate thing from my cousin. I went to her wedding about two years ago and she was mated to one of your kind. She wouldn't shut up about how they met and the utter romantic garbage she experienced from him," she scoffs," it was almost sickening how sweet they were but I got to learn some signs. You have been tense and full of energy lately. I figured that was normal but you perked up a lot when I showed up. It was really cute. Still, I had some guesses and when you came to the shed it was heavily validated. So in the end, I'm not mad. Lowkey a little happy you didn't do some over the top romantic gestures like my cousin's man did."

I listen to her rant amused and amazed. She knew? A part of me thinks she just had some hopeful thoughts and wanted the signs to be for her. Or maybe I'm not as good as I think at hiding this. Either way, it doesn't matter because she doesn't hate me. She wants me and I can't do anything but be thrilled.

With a snort, I pull her into a kiss, ecstatic with the turn of events. She smiles against my lips, pulling me close. As we kiss a few people walk back, whistling and making sly comments at us. We part, chuckling with one another at their jokes.

"So you aren't mad you have to join back next year," I ask just to be sure.

"Maybe a little," she shrugs," I guess your just going to have to make me forgive you."

I growl, leaning down and nipping at her neck. Her shriek of laughter makes me giddy. I have my mate, and she's perfect.

#12 tropes for christmas #12 days of christmas #Enigma-IM #exophilia #monster boyfriend #werewolf boyfriend #heat

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sweetpickolwarrior · 4 years ago

Text

The Three Times You Didn't Want Them To Hear You, The One Time You Did (Part 1)

Established fic

Small!Brown!Female!Reader

Not too apparent but just letting you know in case.

TW - canon-typical violence, description of fighting, blood, gore, swearing, sexist language, description of injury, descrioptions of anxiety/panic attacks

Fic summary:You have been travelling with geralt and Jaskier for quite some time, you had always been told that your voice would take you places before you had no choice but to abandon your previous life. You still loved it though. This fic explores the times you let go and let yourself sing.

Chapter Summary: The first time Jaskier and Geralt heard you sing. This was not planned. Tis a big deal for you.

Jaskier had grown used to Geralt's constant pining for silence, his rumbles of discontent and years of “shut up” and "fuck off" while he plucked away on his lute and let melodies fall from his lips. Though he knew that under all the furrowed brows and bitter growls, the witcher appreciated him.

Truth be told, coin had often been halved, quartered or suddenly 'stolen' away from lords, knights and nobles alike rendering them incapable of paying the witcher even after monsters had been slain...that is until the ballad had started to follow him like flies after shit. Since then, some noblemen would actively seek him out for any twig crack in the woods to then invite the trio to a throwaway dinner party so they could show off the white-haired champion if they caught word of him within three towns.

Naturally, he resented the very idea of lingering about these people any more than he already had to, being talked about, sung about, danced about, treated like some sort of trophy workhand for these tittering idiots. And of course, Jaskier leapt at the opportunity to perform for the more rosy-cheeked, satin clad crowd, and you often just went along with whoever won the squabble, enjoying either a night of Jaskier singing atop a table in a tavern or atop a table in a banquet hall. (Though the latter often left you with a heftier rattle in your pouches and warm beds, baths and linens for a few more nights.)

How you would have wanted that a few months ago.

About six months earlier

It was bound to happen sooner or later, travelling with two men and often having to settle for a bed on the ground. Not that you often minded, but that night, after a longer than necessary altercation with a couple of alghouls, you had crashed into your bedroll, not bothering to clean the blood off your face let alone off your arrows and out of your clothes.

You woke that morning to aching bones and a musty stench you wanted to be rid of as soon as possible.

The grass was dewy and sweet-smelling as you turned to the other side, letting the sun stroke your cheek good morning. You saw roach tied to a nearby tree and had concluded that your companions had wandered to the next town for supplies. You had been running low on a good few essentials for a while now and were grateful that your companions had let you slumber away, knowing you didn't fuss too much over anything they would get from the market.

You opened your pack and grabbed two lumps of soap before heading to the river that had lulled you to sleep that night. The first, a dry lye soap made simply and quickly, good for getting "blood, shit and grit out" as Geralt so elegantly put it. And the second, still wrapped in wax paper, the last few crumbles of a soft, fragrant lavender soap you had made yourself. You had saved so many dried flowers from where you could, hung and dried them on the side of your satchel, scraped the bottom of vials clean for drops of various oils into your little bottle, olive, sunflower, even a little of Jaskier's special coconut oil. Cooking a soap over the campfire was a waste of wood in Geralt’s eyes, but you could tell the soft scent calmed him as it wafted through the air that night.

You smiled to yourself as you finally stepped into the river, the edges warmed by the kiss of the sun.

You peeled off your trousers and walked further in, letting the water lap at your thighs growing used to the cold quickly. Rubbing the soap into your trousers, you watched as the blood slowly swirled out in front of you and saw as your fingers started to go from angry splotches of red and black back to that natural, warm brown. Your shirt stuck to your skin and hair, caked crimson. After all this time, you still could not believe how much things bled. Your mind flashed back to the alghouls from last night as your fingers worked through cleaning your formerly beige overshirt.

It should have been easy. Just two. You were only there to watch how Geralt wielded his sword for a few, usually weak opponents. His silver sword heaved thick strokes through the air, his feet danced around his opponents and you let your arrows loose from afar, aiding your friend as another got too close for your liking. The specially made silver tips slicing through skin and bone, causing a shriek. It turned and caught another arrow in its shoulder, bounding toward you. Frantic, you simply held out your next arrow in your hand, ready to impale it as it drew near enough. But you froze. Was this one of the ones you had to get in a specific place? Drive it through the heart? The head? Why was it still running? Surely two silver arrows should have been enou-

shhhlllck

Geralt unseamed the creature through it's abdomen from behind and drew his sword up and through it’s head as its blood gushed over you and the last few gurgles escaped what was left of its throat as it crumpled before you in a horrid mess.

"You're too slow up close. It would have had you."

He was right.

As talented as you were with a bow and arrow, able to get a man in the eye from half a field away, your experience with close combat was laughable. Usually, you had time to think, plan out your shots, you didn't even have to deal with blood until you retrieved your arrows. You probably would have had your face ripped off. Or your throat torn out. Or something.

You place the sopping shirt next to your trousers on the bank and scurry back with the lavender soap in your hand. Once you've thrust yourself back into the gentle river almost chest level, you start to hum a soft tune, trying to ignore the murky red all over, instead focus on the light scent of lavender and the gliding of the soap through your hair. You close your eyes and let your mouth fall open, a melody plucked from a memory now dull and faded, the sound clear and bright.

Losing yourself in the rises and falls in the melody, voice opening and notes falling out as your muscles remember what it is to have sound flow and gush from your belly out into the world. No body, no mind, no cold, no blood-

All of a sudden, a loud brightly coloured heap burst through the foliage and breathlessly plunged into the river, flailing erratically. You attempt to preserve your unmentionables with your hands, your lilting voice turning to shrill yelps. You submerge yourself lower, shoulders barely peeking out over the disturbed waves. In contrast, the intruder, exploding out of the water as frantically as he fell in, spluttering and coughing “Y/N! You can - cough - sing! You can sing!! - cough -”

Oh, thank the Gods.

“JASKIER! GO AWAY!”

“But Y/N! -cough - You sounded lovely! I-”

“I’M NAKED JASKIER FUCK OFF!”

Jaskier slapped his hand to his eyes immediately and scrambled back up the bank, stumbling as he managed to regain his footing and ran off, his back to you whilst still covering his eyes.

You had not expected them to be back so soon. Truth be told you had not known how long they had been gone when you woke but then why hadn’t you heard them coming back?

Not focusing again. Fuck! You know you can’t afford to get lost in your own head again, stupid girl. What would have happened if it had been someone else hearing a-

He heard. Geralt too probably with his enhanced senses.

Fucks sake.

It had just been so long since you had let your voice be free. You hadn’t let your companions hear you so much as hum on your travels as you were sure that it would make you come across as a silly little girl. With Jaskier it was different. He is a poet, a bard. He had been studying it for many years whereas you had pipe dreams growing up like every other lass in the village. You sang in school with a wide smile and a voice that rang like a bell, you sang on holy Fridays with fingers interlaced and the plume of your mothers rouge on your cheeks. Nothing compared to the grand halls and festivals that Jaskier would perform at. Gods you hoped he wouldn’t speak of it again. You were sure that they would take you even less seriously now.

You’ll show them

Just go back to camp and pretend it didn’t happen. Say there was a girl wandering nearby and Jaskier should go and chase her before she is lost to the woods forever.

If this carries on, get yourself killed or someone else hurt. You know that Geralt can’t let that happen. He’ll probably drop you off in the town and wish you luck because you’ve become more stress than your skills are worth. You get it, you do.

It will just be so hard getting used to being alone again.

Your head is spiralling again. You need this to stop. You think of the meditation that Geralt showed you. You can't meditate, you're still naked in a river! Tears escape your eyes as you just can’t organise your thoughts into any kind of action. You can't run naked through the woods, you can't turn up in your sopping wet clothes, you’re no help on hunts, you’ve let your biggest comfort turn into your biggest embarrassment because you just can’t think straight.

“Y/N! I - I’m not looking! I have your clothes you left them back at camp”

You look up to see Jaskier was inching closer, eyes covered by one hand, your dry pair of clothes draped over his other forearm. He was inching closer, his toes probing to see if he had gone too far. Once his foot had felt the sploshy bank he stopped and held his arm out. You were sure that he had not heard you cry but you didn’t want the lump in your throat to give it away. You rose out, plucked the clothes from him and he promptly scampered off, one hand still across his eyes for some reason. You let out your breath, finding it had slowed due to holding it in for so long. You wrung out your hair as much as you could before flinging your trousers and shirt on with shaking hands. You were sure you could sleep right on into the next day.

At camp

Jaskier had fumbled back to camp, drenched and squelching till he could hear the soft wooshing of roach’s breath. Geralt was sat, sorting the things they had brought from market.

----------

Jakier was stumbling giddy from when he had first encountered the river, his mind rushing as he made his way through the trees.

That voice! Hesitant, yet rich and full and resonant. Thick with the weight of being tied inside her chest, it would take some practice to let her voice flourish and fly like he knew it could, but that was no matter! With his brief but busy year being a professor at Oxenfurt under his belt, he scoured through the plethora of exercises and scales that he had stored away. Her warm tone, he thought, would contrast beautifully with his chipper and airy voice.

In his head flashed scenes of the two writing together, performing together, studying together. Jaskier, Poet of the continent accompanied by-

“What did you do Jaskier”

The voice came firm and gruff, as opposed to the often exasperated or gentle (rarely was there anything in between) tone his witcher friend usually employed when he was addressing the bard.

Jaskier’s ear wide grin faltered as Geralt towered over him.

Knowing the flirty way of Jaskier and seeing him dripping before him, hearing the shout of “IM NAKED” and honing in his ear, he was presently hearing the soft gasps of Y/N, he could not help but draw himself to conclusions, knowing that human men, even those whom one trusted could turn to be worse than the monsters in his quests. When the fathers and trusted lovers of innocent women could turn as quickly as the page of a book, what was a loose and often unashamed bard that he happened to know for a few years?

He grabbed the young man by his soaking collars

“What the fuck did you do”

Somewhere between a growl and a roar, the words seethed from Geralt as he heard Y/N’s sharp breaths mix with sobs she was trying to silence.

After that night, he knew his small friend would need some time. They had both been exhausted, his head pounding from the potions he had used, he didn’t speak much to her apart from some abrupt criticism after the last alghoul was taken care of. He didn’t know much about teaching or guiding, or comforting for that matter, but he figured letting her sleep in would do no harm and he had bought some apples for her to feed roach. That helped him. The thought that she should be thrust from one horrid altercation to another at the hands of his first companion filled him with rage. These thoughts raced through his head while he attempted to decipher Jaskier’s words through this sudden wave of protectiveness.

Jaskier was chuckling, almost about to pat his massive friend on the head like an overreactive hound,

“I fail to see why you’re so wound up, dear witcher. I simply sought to find the source of the singing, and it turned out to be Y/N! Marvellous isn’t she?”

“Why are you wet.” Geralt demanded.

truth be told, he was so used to hearing Jaskier’s voice or lute, he simply dumped the noise into that category. Thinking back, it was different. Still musical, but different. Jaskier’s sound seemed to sit on the wind and flit and glide like a bird while this new sound was earthy, full, round, blending with the flow of the river and almost raw, coarse and slightly unsteady like a horse that had run for the first time out of market.

“I was simply mesmerised, Geralt. " he sighed, sagging slightly in the bigger man's grip " I was convinced it might be a water nymph, that I might catch it, steal some ideas for melody and- and then let the poor thing go of course, but”

“Why is she crying Jaskier”

The girl’s sobs had subsided slightly, but her breath was shuddering and shallow. He knew when she got like this, it was hard to get back down. He had expected it sometime today but usually, he could smell the fear rising, notice the scrunching up of her small frame, and make sure the trio were alone, quiet, ready.

“Crying? Whatever do you mea-”

The focused and worried look on Geralt’s face clicked in Jaskiers’ head and he felt a wave of guilt wash over him

“Oh gods, shit. Shes alone. What do I do Geralt? Can you hear her?”

The stream came pouring out his mouth as he paced around the camp, his eyes landing on a pile of neatly folded clothes.

“ Jaskier go back and give them to her. Slowly. She’ll come back in her own time”

Geralt listened intently while Jaskier went to return the garments. It surprised him that the sound of his younger companion trying to catch her breath like it was a feather in the wind was the same person who had made such a pleasing sound not very many minutes ago.

It stopped.

He couldn’t hear her breathe, but Jaskier was calm. He heard the rustling of clothes and the damp footfall of the bard returning. He turned his attention back to her again. He was afraid that after the episode, holding her breath would cause her to topple back into the river. Stupid. He should’ve thought of that beforehand. She didn’t. Strong lass. He heard her breaths less shallow as her hair dripped and her clothes were back on.

He was reassured now and started to take out the apples from the small fruit sack.

“Well if she was crying, she isn’t any more” stated Jaskier, almost reassuring himself that his clumsiness couldn’t have hurt his friend.

He proceeded to look for his woollen blanket, laying it out carefully, waiting for his friend to return.

A/N

Thank you so much for reading! Its the first time I've started writing after a long time, if you have any constructive criticism please leave it in the comments :)

I've started a new AO3, Tumblr page and page on Fanfiction.net which will hold my fics too. same username :)

I am very pernickety when writing which is why it's been hard for me to upload anything in the last few years and why it might take a little time for me to upload new chapters but please stick around :D

PART 2

mwah x

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playing--koi · 5 years ago

Text

Creatures Alike

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Rating: 18+

Warning(s): SMUT, brief mentions of violence and torture, brief mentions of blood and injury, swearing, unprotected sex (y’all this is a mythical world, but stds are very real here so keep that shit locked up)

Summary: A mysterious Witcher saves you from criminal sacrifice and quite a grim background of servitude and torture. Since he’s decided to nurse you back to health and treat you with compassion, you’ve felt something awaken inside of you for the first time in your bleak life.

Word Count: 5.7k

MASTERLIST

The coarse bark of the tree trunk pressed painfully into the skin of your back. You weren’t sure if the liquid you felt soaking through your rags was that of sweat or blood. The hot, sticky air of the forest was palpable and, if you weren’t otherwise occupied with being tied to a tree, no doubt the heat would’ve instead been the subject of your complaints.

So how had you ended up tied to a tree? Simple. You were a criminal, ostracized and locked away; a long life of torture awaiting you for the murder of your village’s king. However, you didn’t regret it. Hell, you’d practically give anything to go back in time and do it all over again, savoring the vision of that vile man’s blood that glistened upon your dagger.

He got exactly what he’d deserved and you’d sworn to every high priestess sent to talk to the “daughter of Lilit” that you’d never repent. As far as you knew, you had no relation to the demon goddess of the night, intent on exterminating the human race; though you decided you’d lean into it. It was easier to claim Lilit’s likeness than to relive the horrors that you’d experienced at the hands of that man.

You were an orphan that’d been left on the doorstep of the king one night. It quickly became the subject of town gossip because your ears showed that of elven heritage. Not fully, but certainly enough to be recognized. Against all suggestion from his council, he decided to take you in to one day become a servant girl. The village ate that garbage up from the palm of his unscathed, perfectly manicured hands; woes of his “kind, gentle spirit” and “innate care for all creatures, no matter how disgusting”.

It made you sick. He made you sick. With his creative list of unthinkable punishments that he saved for only you. The halfblooded elf who was used as an outlet for his rage. His council knew, his family knew, neighboring royals knew. And no one batted an eye. If it kept their king happy, drain the elf’s blood.

So it shouldn’t have been a surprise when you killed him. But evidently it was. There was talks of hanging you, burning you at the stake, stoning you to death; frankly, you’d lost track of the plethora of capital suggestions. Everyone cried of how ungrateful you were. That he’d accept one of your kind just to be murdered for his generosity. It almost made you laugh that these people were so busy sneering at you over a man that they only pretended to know the first thing about. In their minds, the honorable king would never lay a finger on an innocent creature, but oh, how wrong they were.

And now here you were. In the stead of public execution, you were now being offered as a sacrifice to the griffin that had been terrorizing the village. You’re pretty sure that everyone knew one lousy meal wouldn’t do anything to quench the abomination’s blood-thirst, but everyone was excited by the idea of a painful, terrifying, and gruesome death for a criminal such as yourself. Well, fuck them too.

You weren’t quite sure why they’d tied you up in the forest, considering griffins mostly traveled by flight, making it nearly impossible to see you hidden within the tree tops and thick foliage. Either you’d die by some miracle of the griffin finding you or perhaps another horrid creature, starvation, dehydration, or bandits. So many options, lucky you.

Lightheaded due to exhaustion and overheating, you couldn’t tell if you were imagining the noises that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. After years of mental torture and loneliness, you were more than aware of your mind’s ability to hallucinate quite grand things. Like that one time you’d managed to have an entire argument with your dinner rations. And you weren’t even sure if you’d won.

However you couldn’t imagine that your own mind would be able to conjure up the noise that you’d just heard. A growl so menacing and threatening, you were sure this was your end. And you hadn’t even seen the beast yet. You’d been through a lot, so you were not usually convinced that you wouldn’t survive something because, after so many days spent begging not to, you still prevailed. But this might actually be it.

And then you saw it. After many tales of such a beast; paintings, sonnets, songs, epic novels: a griffin. It was huge, grotesque, and sinister. Its face looked permanently smug as it traipsed in and out of your vision through openings. And it was on foot; how peculiar. But the closer you looked, the easier it was to see that it was injured. With a trail of blood closely following it, you concluded that it must’ve been its wings because, had it been another extremity, it probably wouldn’t have been walking as easily as it was.

But what creature would attack something so massive and menacing?

You kept your breaths as silent as possible, remaining as still as you could. You weren’t sure how good its hearing was. You didn’t really know much about griffins. You didn’t really know much about anything, to be honest. Spending most of your life hidden from the world certainly did an excellent job of also hiding the world from you. Whenever you could sneak a book from the king’s library, you would, but any of his more riveting, knowledgable ones were kept very far from your reach.

It was now far darker than it had been just a few minutes before, so you prayed to the gods that it wouldn’t see you. Seeming to be wandering aimlessly, the creature’s steps were slow and heavy before it made a sort of bedding with the surrounding leaves and curled up—as much as such a large body could “curl”—and began to snore.

Great, I pray to the gods for safety and instead they send a griffin to my exact location where it falls asleep, no doubt ready to maul me the moment I make an inkling of a sound. What a fucking joke.

Before you can agonize for too much longer, you see a flash of white in your peripheral vision and you whip your neck to face it. You see a man. A very large, very intimidating man with long white hair and dressed head to toe in black. He had weapons sheathed on his back and moved with a swiftness of someone who really knew how to use them. And he appeared to be purposely moving closer to the griffin. Oh no. He was going to wake it up and you were both going to die.

Well, he was just speeding up the inevitable. So you decided to watch. At least enjoy some entertainment in your last moments.

You couldn’t help but notice his pure beauty and the rugged nature of it. He was a daunting presence, one of indisputable importance and humble pride. He moved like both the lion and the gazelle; he was a contradiction, both gentle and dangerous. Reckless yet careful. Gods, he was approaching a griffin, yet it seemed to be just a daily occurrence for him. Maybe you both were going to live if his stature was anything to go by.

He was then standing over the sleeping body of the griffin, unsheathing his sword with delicacy so as not to awaken the beast. And without a sliver of hesitation, he chopped the overgrown bird’s head cleanly off its shoulders.

You gasped without a thought and he quickly searched the darkness for the source of the noise and you could feel the blood drain from your face. Sure, he’d saved you from the imminent danger, but what if he was the new imminent danger? A man that confident and sly couldn’t be underestimated by a prisoner tied to a tree.

In the dark of the night, you could make out his eyes just as they found you. His brows furrowed, no doubt confused by your predicament. You couldn’t imagine it was a common occurrence to find a woman tied to a tree in the middle of a forest right after killing a griffin. He slowly began to inch closer to you before he was only a few footsteps away.

You could now make out the rich amber of his eyes as they scanned your…dilemma. His face was nothing short of perfect— sculpted by the delicate fingers of the gods—and mauled ever since by the cruelty he’d clearly faced on the continent. His face was dirty and battered, like he’d picked a pub brawl with the wrong gang of thugs. But after seeing the cool and collected way he slayed that animal, you couldn’t imagine him losing any fight.

And then he spoke. A deep rumble that sounded harsh to unprepared ears. His voice was that of smoke; thick and mysterious—throaty and coarse. It awoke something primal in you that’d been stifled perhaps your entire life. So much so that you’d forgotten to listen to what he’d actually said.

“Ma’am?” He inquired, clearly trying to get your attention. Little did he know he had it undivided.

Your curiosity got the better of you and you couldn’t resist.

“Who are you?” You wondered aloud, your voice remaining constant in such a threatening situation. Due to the trials of your life, it’d been a long time since you feared death.

“Geralt,” he grumbled. Well, it didn’t exactly cover the complexities of your question, but it was a start.

“Are you going to kill me, Geralt?”

He grunted in response, but you could swear you saw a hint of amusement in his eyes. He pulled the sword from its place hilted on his shoulder and you closed your eyes to brace for impact, but instead of an untimely demise, you simply felt your balance slipping as the rope was no longer holding you up straight.

Before you could land face-first on the forest floor, you could feel a forearm reach out and catch you around the waist. Upon opening your eyes, you could see that you were angled toward the ground and, had this peculiar man not reached his hand out and almost effortlessly stopped your downfall, you’d have had a mouthful of twigs.

He pulled you back up straight and, after no longer feeling your need for his support, he left you to stand on your own—though he watched you like a mare would her foal. Making sure you didn’t immediately go topsy-turvy. The absence of his warmth around your belly was somehow even more uncomfortable than the sweltering heat. You couldn’t even begin to think how sweaty he was under all of that black leather. What you’d give to get him out of it.

You tried to physically shake the thoughts from your head.

“May I ask why you were tied to a tree?” He questioned, sizing you up, almost as if he was guessing what the reason could be himself.

“My village is convinced that I’m the daughter of Lilit, so they left me as a human sacrifice for that griffin,” you pointed to the recently-slain beast.

He raised his eyebrows at your confession. “So you’re the servant girl who murdered the king,” his eyes narrowed as he continued, “I’ve heard talk of you. You’re not exactly spoken about favorably, considering you killed one of the continent’s most well-regarded rulers,”.

You felt a pang in your chest. You were so sick of the assumptions that everyone made about you. How you were a no-good, selfish, bloodthirsty elf. Always defending yourself from people who would never know the truth. Well, if that’s what they all thought, there was no use trying to change their minds.

“That would be me.” You sneered, “Probably should’ve just left me to die, huh?” You pushed past him, stomping away from your beautiful savior. Even a mysteriously handsome man saving your life couldn’t be a source of happiness.

However you didn’t exactly have time to dwell on it too much before your vision blurred and you could feel your body giving out. You were dehydrated, overheated, starved, and possibly bleeding. When was luck ever on your side?

You crumpled to the ground, a deafening ring reverberating through your head. Your body ached as your mind blanked. You didn’t even notice that you were now being moved. Your eyes grew heavier, heavier, heavier.

There you were, back in the basement of the castle. Drenched in your own blood, the color a more muted red as it mixed with that of your sweat. Your ankle was raw from where the shackle was tightly bound to it, dirt and grime seeping within the cut.

You couldn’t possibly be back here, you’d killed him. He was supposed to be gone. But the sounds of his boots thundering down the stairs alerted you that it was far from over.

You startled awake, gasping for air. In a fit of panic, you jumped up from the makeshift bed you’d been asleep on, frantically searching the room for an explanation. You quickly came to the conclusion that you’d found yourself within an abandoned cottage of sorts. And you were not alone.

Geralt studied you with a confused intensity. His brows were furrowed as he sat in a chair that was situated next to the bed you’d been asleep in. An opened book was settled on his lap.

Your eyes drifted from him and instead looked down at your own body and saw that several areas had been bandaged, including places that you hadn’t even known to be injured.

“Clearly they’re not too kind to prisoners in your village,” He stated after seeing that you’d been studying your own wounds.

“Why did you help me?” You questioned.

He cocked his head to the side, confused by your response. He probably expected some sort of gratitude in your words instead of the cautious interrogation that he was now being met with.

“You said it yourself, I’m a murderer,” you pushed further, “so why did you help me?” You gritted your teeth, the pain throbbing in your head did nothing to assuage the rage you felt at his dismissal of you upon your first meeting.

He inhaled deeply before answering your question. “I was originally going to take you back to your village along with the griffin’s head in hopes of some sort of…compensation,” you rolled your eyes at his honesty, “but when I examined your wounds further, I didn’t think you would live through the journey without some proper treatment.” He answered frankly.

“So your plan is to heal me and then turn me in?” You scoffed.

“Originally, yes. However, the more I’ve studied you, the more curious I’ve become.” He set the book on the ground and crossed his legs, leaning further back in the chair. Even from across the room, you could feel that the probing was about to begin. “Their stories don’t really align with what I’ve seen from you. What do you have to fear? Your village speaks as if they’re terrified of you. All anyone seems to call you is the daughter of Lilit, the elf with no soul—so what would you have to be afraid of?”

You sputtered out a laugh at the sheer irony of it all. What did you have to be afraid of? What a laughable question. What didn’t you have to be afraid of?

He stood from his seat and started to walk around the bed toward you and your body reacted before your mind even had time to register. You flinched, moving to protect all vital organs from the beating you felt to be inevitable. Your eyes were squeezed shut so tightly, spots were collecting within your darkened vision. Time stood still as you waited for the assault, but you couldn’t even hear his footsteps getting closer.

You slowly opened your eyes and moved your face from where it was tucked into your elbow. You saw Geralt standing there, his hands up in surrender as he looked at you with the mildest bit of sorrow.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he conceded, speaking in a way one might to a frightened animal, “It was unfair of me to pass judgment on you after our first meeting. Humans do it to my kind all the time and I know better than anyone how frustrating it can be,”.

“Your kind?” Your brows furrowed.

“I’m a Witcher,”.

Your eyes widened, remembering the stories you’d snuck from the library stacks about Witchers and their superhuman amounts of power used to defeat monsters across the continent. “You’re a Witcher?” You whispered, curiosity dripping from your voice. You were desperate to hear the tales of someone so well-traveled and brave.

“That’s enough about me, little elf.” He took a step closer to you. You narrowed your eyes at the nickname, but let it go quickly; it sounded more like a term of endearment than anything else. “Now sit back down on the bed, so I can redress your wounds. All of this excitement seems to have reopened a few cuts,” You obeyed, no longer preoccupied enough to ignore the pain.

He crouched down in front of where you were seated and moved to lift up one of your pant legs in order to check on the dressings. He continued this on your arms and legs for quite a while, very meticulous in his work to insure you didn’t walk away with any infections. It was then time to look at your back, the part you’d been dreading.

Sure, you knew he’d already seen it, but your back was covered fully in scars from your years of servitude. It was unsightly and you hated the reminders.

You faced the other direction, so you were now looking away from him. You carefully removed your old, tethered shirt. You used the raggedy material to shield any sight of your breasts, although you knew he couldn’t see them from his place behind you. He began to untie the cloth and remove the bandaging, goosebumps arising wherever you felt the ghost of his touch. Grabbing a damp rag, he started to clean the gashes that littered your back. You attempted not to hiss in pain, but it failed fairly quickly.

He slathered ointment onto your burning skin, lightly massaging it into the wounds of your back, making sure to take extra care of the areas that were especially banged up. This was all so foreign to you; these hands that held you with a gentle touch. Someone alleviating your pain instead of adding to it. You sighed in contentment at the sheer pleasure of another’s hands, especially those belonging to such a beautiful specimen, however pointedly you tried ignoring that fact.

Far too soon, the caress was replaced with more bandages and gauze. You were left internally whining at the loss of Geralt’s closeness. Before you went to put your same shirt back on, he tossed you one in far better condition that he must’ve found in the cottage.

You were fighting sleep, eager to spend more time in his presence. It was so soothing to you in a way that nothing else had ever been. He took one look at you, no doubt seeing your internal fight to stay awake. “Rest up, little elf,” he insisted, “I’ll still be here when you wake up,”.

And with that, you gave yourself permission to sleep.

You’d been trapped in the cottage with Geralt for roughly three days at this point, practically vibrating out of your own skin at the temptations you’d had to sit through. With Geralt constantly tending to you, the little amount of privacy the cottage offered, and having to bear witness to his perfectly crafted body, freshly soaked from his baths; a new side of you had suddenly awakened.

He captivated you. Your eyes followed him every moment you could get away with it. You certainly weren’t covert about it either. The feelings were just so new and profound that you were honestly just excited to be feeling them at all. Any common activity could become entertaining so long as Geralt was the one performing it.

You were entranced by his unexpected tenderness. He would sometimes sneak out at night to check on Roach when he thought you were asleep, making sure that nothing in the surrounding wood had agitated the horse. While his skills helped you to feel protected, his morality was what made you really trust him. He could’ve easily brought you back to your village, gotten a hefty sum, and been on his way. Hell, it wasn’t like you’d claimed innocence in the first place.

But no, instead he’d decided to offer you medical care using his own supplies, give you most of his hunting rations, find you shelter, and be the first person to ever treat you with true respect. So, what were you meant to do? Not develop any sort of feelings for him? That level of self control seemed utterly ridiculous.

Although it’d only been a short period of time, you felt so safe with him. He asked you questions and showed true interest in your answers. He comforted you after a few jarring nightmares. He asked your opinions on things and never made you feel ashamed if you didn’t know something. He told you some quite riveting stories of his travels and woes; of monsters and magic and all sorts of things.

You could feel a considerable predicament arising.

Before he’d left to go hunting, Geralt had been kind enough to prepare a bath for you. Your complaints of muck had probably started to annoy him at this point, so he pulled out all of the bells and whistles. Flowers, herbs, oils, scents, milks, powders; you didn’t even know what kind of concoction this was, but it felt fancy. So you were going to enjoy it.

You scrubbed your body until your skin was practically raw, not allowing even one granule of dirt to be left behind. Frankly, you’d needed the distraction that concentration brought. Anything was better than the devilish thoughts of Geralt that replayed in your mind at every moment since you’d met him.

And since it was your first time being truly alone in the cottage, maybe it was time to do something about it.

You couldn’t help yourself. It was the perfect storm of desire. The heat of the bath, the filth polluting your mind, the views you’d had the honor of seeing throughout the past few days; he was irresistible. And if the only relief you could offer yourself was within the confines of your own fantasy, then so be it.

The herbs and flowers floated around the surface of the bath as the milk and oil clouded the water, obscuring the view of your hand as it lowered down the skin of your stomach. You’d never felt such strong urges in your entire life.

It was your first time trying anything like this, but you’d had the pleasure of indulging in a few erotic novels throughout your time at the castle. Your fingers lightly caressed the flesh of your opening, teasing the sensitive area and imagining the droplets of water cascading down Geralt’s back earlier that day. How it’d feel to run your tongue across each rippling muscle, collecting the liquid in your mouth.

You sunk your middle finger into your core, feeling the wetness pooling inside of you. This man had you wound so tightly around his finger; you were practically bursting at the seams. Once you’d collected some of your slick on the tip of your finger, you pulled back and circled around your tiny bud of nerves. When you’d finally made contact, your body reacted in a way it never had before. Your legs twitched, causing some of the bathwater to splash from the tub, but you couldn’t find one care in the world, not even slowing at the sound.

A desperate whine left your mouth unexpectedly before you bit down on your lower lip, silencing yourself. The hand that wasn’t busy with your throbbing nether regions gripped the edge of the tub, almost numb at this point. You knew that if Geralt was the one doing this to you, that hand would be wrapped up in his bright silver strands. The thought of him doing anything to make you feel this immodest nearly had you drooling. His dexterous, strong hands taking ownership of your pussy, showing you just how accommodating he could be.

His name left your lips in a desperate plea as you finally found a rhythm that suited you. You felt as if your body was no longer your own as you continued your descent in the search of pleasure. You slowly worked yourself, wanting to savor this feeling. Your breaths were loud and labored as you arched your back slightly, searching for a path closer to release. Your mind replaying every word Geralt had uttered to you since you’d first met, clawing for any semblance of relief.

Your movements came to a screeching halt upon hearing the deep voice you’d come to know so well—now outside of your thoughts. You snapped your eyes open quickly, seeing his smug face staring back at you as you jumped to cover yourself as much as you could.

“Am I interrupting something?” He cocked an eyebrow.

You gasped, hot shame bubbling in your chest as you fumbled through any words you could get out. “Geralt—I’m s-so sorry, I really—”.

He slowly started to untuck and unbutton his black shirt. Your mouth went dry as more of his skin was exposed, effectively silencing your babble. The raised markings of his scars were covered in a light sheen of sweat that looked absolutely delectable. You could feel your pupils dilating, your mouth opening slightly without your control.

He smirked at the look on your face, tossing his shirt to the side. “Would you like some help?” He gave you an appreciative once-over to emphasize his proposition.

Your eyes widened as you prayed to every god that this wasn’t some twisted trickery. You nodded, fearing that your voice would betray you.

He stripped himself of his boots and the rest of his clothing. He worked quickly and gracefully, tossing the garments without a care as he walked closer to the tub. While you were obviously curious, you avoided any glances south of his abdomen, feeling too bashful to even look. Moving to get in the bath, he sat down in front of you. Now face to face, you were curious as to where he was going with this—before he hauled you up to sit on the rim of the bathtub completely emerged from the water, now completely at the mercy of his gaze. You were completely unveiled to him and you couldn’t cease the nerves that flared up in response.

He kneeled back down in the water and you quickly moved to cover you breasts. But before you could successfully shield them from his view, he moved one of your hands to grip the tub and the other to grasp onto his hair. He maneuvered your legs to rest over his shoulders, putting you on full display to his hungry eyes as his huge hands held you steady by your thighs. His dominant movements, situating you how he’d like caused a heavy pulsing feeling to arise in your already glistening cherry.

He kissed each of your thighs passionately, sucking marks into the skin with lips ghosting over each valley of skin—just shy of where you needed him most. The outline of your pubic bone, your navel; using his tongue to explore the plains and ridges of your body.

“Gods, I’ve been waiting to eat this sweet cunt since the moment I cut you from that tree,” His voice somehow got rougher in this moment, soaked in the intoxication of lust, and you could swear you almost fainted. But before you had time to burn out, you were lit afire once again as his tongue licked a long stripe up your aching center, wrapping his lips around your clit as he reached the bundle.

Your grip on his hair tightened as you let out such a guttural sound, urging him on as he made work of your sensitivity. You were covered in the wetness from your bath and, now that you were out of the water, your body felt slightly chilled which was a delicious contrast from the aching heat of your core as he devoured you. Not missing one morsel.

He pleasured you with such eagerness and paid close attention to each of your sounds, repeating movements that granted the noisiest and most reactionary ones. The obscene musing of slurps, licks, and Geralt’s moans had you seeing stars. Each time your body would pull away from him in shock, he’d simply pull you closer by your thighs, grinding you onto his face.

“You taste like heaven. How does that feel, little elf?” He questioned, golden eyes staring into your own. “Hmm?”

He was so smug, but you didn’t have it in you to be even the least bit annoyed. Because with his skillful tongue, he deserved to be smug.

You whined at the separation, desperate for the release you’ve been denied your whole life. You could barely handle another second without it. “Please, Geralt—” you nearly sobbed, panting in between words, “I’ve never felt this way before. Please let me finish on your tongue. I want it so bad,”.

“Fuck,” he whispered, eyes glazing over in desperation at the utterly wrecked look on your face. “Anything you want, little elf” his warm breath ghosted over your dripping cunt as he spoke, “I’ll give you anything,”.

He pulled you impossibly closer and licked into your center, using his nose to nudge and stimulate your bundle. His groans as he devoured you reverberated through your center, overtaking all of your senses as you neared the edge.

Geralt enclosed his lips around your clit, sucking it feverishly with his tongue—and your vision went white. You let out the most broken sound as your insides bursted. You tugged relentlessly on the hair that you assumed he regretted offering up to you, but his groans of pleasure actually made you question that hypothesis.

Your breaths were deep and long as you looked down at him. He was still staring up at you with a look of pride—not cockiness—like he was excited to be able to share that impure moment with you. You moved your thighs from his shoulders and lowered yourself back into the tub, pulling him in for a kiss.

Your first kiss. And it was perfect. Although the order of events seemed a bit backwards, you couldn’t have hoped for anything better.

You could taste yourself on his tongue as he pulled you closer to sit on his lap in the water. His hardened member pressed against your stomach, so you decided it was his turn. You wrapped your fingers around his thick cock, all shyness from earlier dissipating, as you paid close attention to the tip. You pumped him slowly, slowly adding more pressure as you continued.

He inhaled a deep breath, almost as if he was holding himself back. “I’m going to take you to bed now, little elf” he enunciated his statement with a quick peck, “only if you’ll have me, that is—”.

You rolled your eyes at his chivalry. “Take me to bed then, Witcher,”.

You squealed in joyful shock at his show of strength as he quickly lifted you both up from the tub, water now cascading from your bodies and onto the surrounding floor. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you simply giggled.

You both fell onto the bed with water still dripping from your bodies, soaking through the sheets. You were a quilt of limbs, wrapped up in one another as your mouths communicated longing with deep, passionate kisses. While he was your only kiss, you could somehow tell that he tasted better than any others.

He worshipped your body with his hands, offering you the loving touch that you’d never felt. Whispering praise of how good you were doing and how lovely you were and how much he’d wanted you.

When he first entered you, he kept it jarringly slow—wanting to avoid any pain—but after he’d opened you up so well, there was only mild discomfort at first. Giving into your begs, he fucked you into the sheets with your prayers of more. You clawed at his back and he wished you would dig harder, so the memory of your first time together could scar and overwrite the brutalities that currently littered his spine.

You squeezed him so perfectly and brought him such euphoria. He never wanted to leave the warmth of your divine center, each thrust bringing you both closer to your end.

“C’mon, little elf. Come for your Witcher,”. Your Witcher was what did you in. You climaxed around his thick cock, the pulsing of your orgasm sending him over the hill right along with you. Both of you unleashing the most primal noises into the skin of the other; a shared moment of vulnerability between two creatures alike. This moment in which both of your worlds tilted in the most complementary way; a change that could be felt in the atmosphere.

He wrapped his arms around you tightly as you came down, grounding yourself in his slow breathing.

Once you’d both gotten cleaned up, you curled up in bed with Geralt as you laid your head on his naked pectoral. You studied him for quite a while as he played with the damp strands of your hair, battling sleep yet again, trying your best to lengthen this moment as much as you could.

But, of course, being the observant man he is, he quickly noticed your eyelids growing heavier.

“Rest up, little elf,” the smallest simper graced his eyes as he repeated his words from the first day in the cottage, “I’ll still be here when you wake up,”.

You closed your eyes with a ghost of a smile.

fin

A/N: Here’s my first crack at a fic for the Witcher (first of many, I’m hoping)!! I really hope you guys like it!! I’m not actually finished the series yet, so sorry if I get anything terribly wrong (I’m just trying so hard to savor it since it’s not back until 2021). I’m brushing back up on fanfic etiquette and writing style since I’m just getting back into the swing of things, so any feedback would be treasured!!! Let me know what you think, babies!

I used to have a tag list, but since it’s been so long since I was posting consistently, I’ve decided to abandon it--so if you wanna be tagged in my stuff, just drop by my ask box. I’d love to have you and I sincerely hope you didn’t hate this, ha! x g

#the witcher #the witcher x reader #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt #geralt of rivia #geralt fic #reader insert #geralt smut #geralt of rivia smut

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harrysweasleys · 4 years ago

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all the things you do // d.m

Summary: Hi I was wondering if you would make a Draco X Reader where the reader is suffering from some Mental illness issues if possible? If not I completely understand! thank you for doing what you do

Warnings: PTSD, brief mentions of death

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: sweet anon, i’m sorry if you wanted this set during hogwarts times but i just instinctively thought of writing this post-war! also i don’t know why the ending rhymes. i’m a poet, apparently! enjoy :) x

——————————

Draco Malfoy had always been a naturally confident man. He usually walked with his head held high, his shoulders broad and straightened and his posture nearly impeccable.

He practically radiated confidence. And he was damn proud of that fact, all thanks to you.

The Second Wizarding War had taken a drastic toll on Draco. He had lost everything about who he was meant to be. He lost any contact with his parents, lost his identity and his friends, and even lost the path he had carved for himself. Or, really, the path his parents had carved for him. He had never really wanted to become a Death Eater — but it was all he knew. His parents had shaped this life for him and he was just living in it.

But when the war ended and peace was settling upon the Wizarding world once more, that’s when you came into Draco’s life. He knew you, of course. He had noticed you throughout the years at Hogwarts without ever making a move to speak to you. At first, you blended into the crowd. Just another face in a big world. But, as the years progressed, you slowly became more prominent in the Slytherin prince’s life.

He found you captivating in every possible way. You were soft, gentle, kind, sweet beyond compare. Everything seemed to hold a good place in your heart and Draco was enchanted by everything you did. Had he formed a teeny tiny crush? Maybe — possibly. But he never made an effort in getting to know you, knowing how his time at Hogwarts was going to end. And he knew it was going to end bloody. The last thing he wanted was to drag your into it. Someone so sweet, so pure.

When Voldemort was defeated, the dust settled, and order began getting restored, Draco wondered what had happened to you. Wondered where you’d run off to, where you’d be resting now that there was no longer an imminent threat around every dark corner. He thought about you a lot, really.

He’d thought about the way the sunshine made your hair glow, or the way your cheeks turned a light pink under any sort of attention, or even the way that your eyes lit up every time Hagrid would bring out another strange, possibly dangerous creature to demonstrate to an eager class. He had always hated Care of Magical Creatures, found it completely useless, but he adored watching your face light up upon being introduced to new species.

He had thought about you so much, really, that he couldn’t find the proper words to say when he bumped into you strolling through Diagon Alley one cloudy afternoon, your scarf tied tightly around your neck and your long coat billowing lightly in the fresh wind. You had looked the same as you did the last time he saw you, but a few things had changed. You cut your hair, your skin was slightly more tanned, and you were wearing a hint of makeup that brought out the gorgeous colour of your eyes.

“You’re Draco,” you had said, smiling up at him. The same breathtaking smile you had given him on a few occasions at school.

Nearly forgetting to speak, Draco had spluttered out a lame, “That’s me.”

However, you had invited him over for tea to catch up at your flat a week later — despite his lameness upon your interaction — and Draco felt himself falling for you all over again. Luckily for him, you felt the same, and the two of you made it official in just a few weeks. It felt rather quick, but both of you knew that there was a reason you bumped into each other, and that reason felt like it was coming to be under a romantic light.

And with you in his life, Draco felt himself returning to his previous charm. He found himself smiling, forgetting, forgiving. It was a new look on him, but he didn’t mind it one bit.

However, while Draco was improving, he noticed you slowly beginning to change. And not for the better. He’d find you staring at the ceiling late at night, unable to sleep. He’d noticed how you’d pick at your plate but would never eat anything. He’d noticed how you jumped at sounds or spells that would happen nearby. And now that he was paying more attention, he noticed how you haven’t touched your wand since that day.

You had also stopped caring about things that used to make you incredibly happy. Movie nights, walking through old London streets, the rumbling sound of thunder and heavy rain.

He figured you were just stressed — still not used to a ‘quiet’ lifestyle. But he couldn’t even fool himself. There was something wrong with you and he hated to think he couldn’t help.

“Love, you’re worrying me,” he sat you down one afternoon, his hand laced in yours as your eyes landed on him. You had been reading a book, but been on the same page for nearly fifteen minutes. You were usually a rather speedy reader, Draco knew you weren’t really paying attention to the book.

“Why?” you asked, blinking rapidly as you put your attention on him.

He hesitated, unsure if telling you all the things he noticed you were doing would set you off. The last thing he wanted was for you to become defensive or insulted.

“What’s wrong?” he decided to ask.

He noticed the way your face seemed to drop, but you composed yourself and furrowed your eyebrows, “Do you think about the death that we saw?”

Taken aback by your blunt question, he stared blankly at you. Had he been affected by seeing young bodies scattered around the Hogwarts grounds, bloody and lifeless? Yes. Had it haunted him for weeks? Yes. But did he continue to dwell on it? No.

He hated that so many of these young students died believing he was a villain, that he was the reason all of the tragedy had happened. He hated the thought that he was on the same side as the force that killed dozens of innocent kids. But as he moved on in his life, he felt as if he had also redeemed himself. That he had improved and learned from his mistakes. And although Draco Malfoy didn’t believe he had much to pride himself on, he definitely took pride in that.

“I used to,” he replied truthfully, forcing away the horrid flashbacks to the brutally gruesome scene at Hogwarts the last time he stepped foot there.

You nodded, “I still do. And I can’t stop thinking about it. Every time I close my eyes, I see their dead ones staring back at me.”

Suddenly, Draco’s mouth felt awfully dry and the crushing feeling in his chest seemed to amplify, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He watched as your eyes closed and reopen, the gears in your head spinning as you thought about what to say next, “Because I didn’t know how. I remember how guilty you felt after the war and I don’t want you to think this is your fault.”

Draco furrowed his eyebrows and scooted closer to you, “If you’re dealing with something, I don’t care if it’s about me or not. You can tell me anything, love. You don’t have to, but if you want to, I’m always here.”

You gave him a weak smile, “I know. I’m sorry. I was being stubborn. I just didn’t want to burden you with my problems.”

“Love,” he spoke, his voice coarse as his throat felt like it was closing in, “You’re never burdening me. We’re in this together, remember?”

And he stuck true to his word.

By the next few weeks, you found yourself able to sleep more than one hour a night. It was both thanks to Draco — who was helping you every second of the day — and thanks to the therapist you had begun to see in central London.

One of the very few Wizarding therapists, Draco offered to pay the hefty price for every session you attended. So far, you had only been to four sessions, but you already found that talking about your thoughts had improved them greatly.

“How was your session today?” Draco asked you over dinner that evening, placing his fork down and smiling over at you.

“Good,” you spoke back softly, “Feeling better. She seemed impressed that I actually slept four hours last night. And that it was my first night in a week without a nightmare.”

“Did she tell you to do anything?” he asked, lips curving up into a slight smile.

You nodded, “Told me to just take an evening off. Bubble bath, watch some crap telly — a normal evening, really.”

Draco smiled faintly, “We can do that.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, and Draco noticed that for the first time in a while, your smile didn’t look forced. Your shoulders slouched as you relaxed, continuing to munch lightly on the lovely dinner Draco had cooked up to cheer your spirits.

The rest of the evening was peaceful. The two of you sat in the bubble bath, talking and laughing about some old memories and even what you thought would happen in your near future. Then, you both wrapped yourselves up in comfy clothing and blankets and sat on the couch watching re-runs of old sitcoms until the middle of the night.

Draco’s heart did a little leap in his chest every time you laughed — every time you did so much as smile. He knew you weren’t fully ready, weren’t fully yourself just yet. But every step that he noticed improvement was a huge deal.

He had no problem doing all the chores around the house — cooking, cleaning, laundry — as you took time to yourself. It brought him joy, really, knowing that every little thing he did would help push you to improvement. Some days were better than others, but he didn’t complain once, for he knew that helping you would take time.

And he was willing to be as patient as possible for you.

“I love you,” he muttered to you that night as the cheesy sitcom played in the background, pressing a delicate kiss to the spot under your ear.

“I love you too,” you replied softly. He fought back a massive smile, turning to face you and lightly placing his lips on your temple. His entire body broke out into goosebumps at your words.

No matter what was going to come your way, no matter what people would say, Draco Malfoy had promised both you and himself that he’d be there every second of the day.

#Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy oneshot #draco malfoy oneshots #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy reader insert

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crystalas · 3 years ago

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It’s only a matter of time part 3

wherein MK and Redson are still trapped training under Macaque and are given a chance to send a message home

Chapter 3: Training daze

Supper time came around after what felt like an eternity of silence between the two, Red Son would not move from his corner despite MK’s many attempts to get him to at least turn around and talk to him. The only way he knew Red Son was even alive was the fact that his tail would swish the floor occasionally. The shadow clone brought in the food bowls and place them on the floor taking away the empty ones. Only then did Red Son move and without looking at MK or even acknowledge him even being there and went to grab his bowl and dragged it back into his corner with his back to MK and began to eat quietly.

MK looked down at his food bowl and began to nibble at his meal, the silence felt horrible he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. What the hell do you say to someone being forced to eat well…people? Where was Macaque even finding all these bodies? Was he raiding a morgue? Killing people in the street? Did he have a farm or knew someone with a human farm? Red Son had said that demons eat people quite regularly and he was considered the ‘weird one’ for not wanting to.

All these thoughts rattled in MK’s head he desperately wanted to talk to Red Son to fill the silence, to get these horrid thoughts out into the air so they wouldn’t be piling up in his head and snow balling into worse ones.

What does human even taste like? Do they range in flavour? Are they like bananas where the flavour and texture changes as they get older?

NO! the thought train has to stop there before he feels compelled to try a bit for his curiosity especially when he had nothing to distract himself from it.

MK realised he had eaten through his entire bowl except for his bugs. He glanced back at Red Son and noticed that his hair was slowly returning back to its former colour instead of dark ash grey it was now dark red at the roots, but his demonic appearance was yet unchanged.

“Your hair is changing back” MK said softly, Red Son’s ears flicked a bit.

“Soooo… this is what you really look like?” he continued as he tried to get anything out of the demon prince, this merely received a tail twitch.

“Looks cool I mean I always thought it was weird that you didn’t look anything like your dad, but I guess it makes sense now.”

Another flicking of the ears and a swish from the tail.

“But why hide it? I mean if you were trying to blend into human society you wouldn’t throw your fire around like you do so…”

“Noodle boy?”

“Yes?” MK chirped elated he finally got something out of his cell mate.

“Please shut up, as it has obviously escaped your notice, I find these topics of discussion… annoying.” Red Son hissed, “I understand that we need to work together and keep each other alive and while I appreciate your attempts of…” he stopped for a minute as if he struggled to find the right words but gave up trying. “I would prefer if we…we…didn’t talk about it.”

MK looked down at his bowl and saw the revolting grubs that laid there, he gave a determined sigh and got up to plop himself down next to Red Son who just glared at him. MK looked him in the eyes grabbed the bugs and shoved them in his mouth, gagging slightly as the grubs crunched and popped in his mouth before swallowing them. It took him a whole two minutes not to gag but he kept them down none the less.

“What is your point exactly Noodle boy?” Red Son growled.

“We are stuck in this hell hole together, if you have to eat revolting stuff then so do I…”

“There’s a huge difference between you eating insects and me eating your kind!”

MK opened his mouth to say something but nothing came to mind to counter that point, his attempt of supporting Red Son seemly going down in metaphoric flames…

“However, if our sadistic master has plans of strengthen our bodies, we need all the food and protein we can get. When we get out, I will make that shadow bastard eat a fistful of dirt for every lump of this filth he has forced me to consume!” Red Son declared boldly and turned around to sit next to MK his food bowl already empty.

“Totally and when we get out, I will get Pigsy to make you the biggest bowl of noodles ever!” MK exclaimed “Actually make that two cos I want one as well! Cos man, do I miss carbs!”

That actually got a chuckle out of the two.

“I will hold you to that noodle boy!” Red Son said leaning back against the wall, “So who do think will get here first?”

“Huh?”

“No doubt my father has noticed my absence and is looking for me, I bet your friends and mentor are looking as well. So, who do you think will find us first?”

“Monkey King hands down, the dude has a decent track record of rescuing people from demons.” MK said confidently.

“Ah yes but can your Sun Wukong punch his way through rock and steel like it was nothing? My father will be the one to break down those cell walls and smash that monkey into paste! I’ll wager an entire tray of melon bread on it.”

“Cakes? Really? we’re betting our freedom on cakes?”

“I’m not talking about any melon bread; I’m talking about the deluxe cream melon bread from that uptown bakery that stuff is divine!” Red Son explained with a sigh, “Also food is all I can think about right now so yes…” he admitted with a grumble.

MK leaned up against Red Son who stiffen up for a brief minute before relaxing, they both knew that they were trying to put on a brave face on a horrid situation but for now at least they had each other to distract them from the nightmare.

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The days seem to blend into a long stream of body punishing strength building excerise, combat training and magic techniques. Red Son’s strength and familiar appearance slowly returning with his new reluctant diet.

MK begrudgingly learned how to use his powers better, wherein Monkey King just gave him the idea and let him figure out the rest, Macaque actually gave him instructions and critique on what to do to make use his powers more efficiently.

“The reason why your clones went wild was because you saw them as yourself! You gave them too much autonomy” Macaque said as they went through his clone making skills. “Those clones are an extension of you nothing more and nothing less. When creating them make sure to only give them a simple command.”

“Red Son focus on the intensity of your fire!” Macaque would bark as Red Son would set fire to several wooden dolls to practise on his aim and control. “I don’t want those targets singed I want them torched!”

Combat training consists of the two sparring against shadow clones, Macaque stopping them occasionally to correct them on their stature and technique before making them continue.

“Put more power into that attack kid, remember your first strike should be your last!”

“Red! Stay light on your feet and watch those flames, you’re supposed to be a fire prodigy act like it! Don’t hold back!”

“MK is the shield and Red is the spear!” was one of the things that Macaque would repeat during training. Neither boy had any clue as to what that meant and now knew better than to try and question their master unless specifically asked to.

MK and Red Son quickly conformed to Macaque’s rule despite them wanting nothing more than to smack or burn their gruelling task monkey, however with the bands in place they knew it was wiser to just try and do as they were commanded.

Escape was also impossible for the first few days MK had scanned the entire dojo with his golden eyes of truth and came to the conclusion that Macaque wasn’t lying about him being the only way in and out of this dojo. They found that getting out of their cell which was insultingly easy, it was as if Macaque was mocking them with the fact that they were still stuck without his assistance. Even so the threat of the bands kept them inside the cell at night and MK hated how quickly they had become like trained dogs.

Some afternoons Macaque would lead them into the shrine room where he would teach them medicine and body anatomy. Which to MK seemed a suddenly off track from what they had been doing but when allowed to ask [and these lessons were the rare occasion where they were allowed to ask questions without consequences, within reason of course] Macaque just gave a small smile.

“You may be the Monkey King’s successor but you are still human, same with Red there will be times you will get injured in battle. Wouldn’t it be good to know how to heal yourself?” he had answered as he pulled out the next scroll. To which once again MK and Red Son had to agree, numerous times they were go to their cell with blisters, burns, aches and pains and all sort of small injuries from their brutal training regime which is probably what inspired Macaque to do this in the first place.

“Or perhaps you wish for us to learn the finer details of the living body so that we can damage it better?” Red Son asked while jotting down the details that Macaque had shown them on chi pressure points and their properties. Macaque gave a soft laugh at that.

“Meh I guess it’s a little of both”

“Care to explain why you are doing all of this?” Red Son inquired “You’ve never actually told us…”

“I did tell you Red, I’ve been commissioned to train you guys. You don’t need to know any more than that.” Macaque exclaimed; Red Son gave a growl of frustration but kept it low in his throat.

“What Red Son is trying to say is, perhaps if we knew what we were training to fight we might be able to prepare ourselves better?” MK tried hoping to get some answers, Macaque’s medical lessons ranged from first aid to skeletal structure of several different creatures, to herbal properties and poisons. If they were being trained to attack someone or something in particular these lessons weren’t giving them any context clues.

Then again nothing Macaque did in their lessons gave them any clue as to what they were training for, it was like Macaque delighted in keeping the two in the dark about everything. They had lost all sense of time in the shadowy dojo; time had no meaning when there was no sun or moon to mark the days or months. They had tried scratching out marks on the wall to count days but were warned not to. When they tried to keep track in their minds, they kept losing count because when you are worked to your last aching breath on a daily basis it made remembering what day it is a challenge.

Time must be passing because they were getting stronger, Red Son and MK would have rather chewed rocks than admit it to Macaque but they had noticed that they were getting faster and enduring the morning excerise regime better. Their movements in combat were more precise and fluid, less energy wasted in their attack and this got them praised by their master. Red Son fire powers were more in control, he could now control what he did or did not burn with his flames and MK could now create clones that didn’t go rouge and his skill with the magic staff was better.

One of the things that kept them sane was their nightly talks, where they would just lie in the cell too drain to do anything but chat and try to keep the despair at bay. They would talk about anything that came to mind no matter how small and stupid because when they grew too tired to talk it would mean they were be left alone with their thoughts and sometimes that scared them more than the idea of what would be coming tomorrow and why no one had saved them yet.

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“I want to go home” MK said one day during their mid-day break, Red Son flinched and looked at MK was standing there defiantly with weapon in hand before glancing at Macaque who stood there watching them with that same irritating condescending casualness. Was he insane? He thought there was no way he was just going to agree!

“Seriously kid?” his master asked. MK could feel his resolve weaken under that stern gaze.

“Can’t we at least visit or call? I mean my friends must be going out of their minds, I don’t even know how long we’ve been down here…I just…I just want to let them know I’m alive at least.”

Macaque gave a thoughtful hum and both boys braced themselves for the agonizing punishment only for him to click his heels together and take out his staff.

“Alright”

“Wait really??!” the boys spluttered.

“But only if you can pin me for longer that five seconds, I’ll even let you attack together!”

Red Son and MK grinned at each other, at last a chance to properly fight back and Macaque in his over confidence was letting them attack without the worry of repercussions from the bands. They both got into attack stances the hope of escape or at least contact with the outside world filling them with renewed energy.

“You get rid of the shadows I’ll focus on getting him pinned” MK said to which Red Son nodded.

MK launched himself at Macaque who dodged his attacks with effortless ease, Mk pushed forward with more aggressive blows with his staff to which Macaque blocked them with his own. Red Son lit up his fists and threw a barrage of fire balls which flew around MK keeping clear of him and heading to their intended target. Macaque smacked the fire balls away with a swing of his staff causing fire to ignite along the training ground, he looked around and noticed he no longer could see MK until he heard a rip of hair and the sound of clones being created. He glanced up at MK who at first looked like he was going to rain clones down on him but realised they all had their staffs primed and ready. With the heavy melodious ringing clangs Macaque was suddenly fenced in by a barrage of cloned staffs to which he glanced around and saw flames suddenly erupts around them causing him to blink back from the brightness. MK leapt over the clone fence to look at Macaque.

“No shadows for you to escape to and nowhere for you to run!”

“You still haven’t pinned me yet kid” Macaque said with his hands folded behind his back, MK growled and leapt down knocking Macaque to the floor and holding him there with his staff letting it go knowing full well that Macaque couldn’t lift it.

“How about now?” he demanded. Macaque smirked again and looked down MK followed his gaze and saw that by jumping in and pushing him to the floor his body now created a small shadow to which he melted away into. MK looked around realising he had trapped himself in a fire pit. Red Son watched from outside and gave a yelp when Macaque appeared behind him grabbed him and threw him at the staff fence causing them to explode into gold smoke and the fire to pitter out. MK didn’t even have time to react when Red Son came flying through the fence, smacking him right in the chest causing them both to hit the ground.

They both laid sprawled on the floor as Macaque walked up to them, clapping softly.

“I’m not going to say you did well but I can see where you were going with it, good idea about blocking me from my escape routes. However, when you got cocky you messed up.” He explained as they got themselves up, MK gave a snarl of frustration and Red Son hair flared up angrily as he punched a nearby pillar.

“However, you did pin me for five seconds…” Macaque mused.

“So, we can go home?!” MK yelped.

“No, that attack was appalling” Macaque laughed, “I’m going to need to drill in better team work into of you two. No, I agreed that if you pinned me for five seconds, I’d let you make a phone call.”

The boys looked at Macaque as he pulled out a cell phone from his cloak.

“Wait how does that even get cell coverage in here?” Red Son blurted out.

“You’re the one who likes to mix tech with magic, you tell me” Macaque answered before tossing the phone to Red Son. “You get two minutes each, I don’t think I have to tell you not to do anything dumb like tell them who I am or where you are…”

“But we don’t know where we are!” MK cried.

“Exactly!” was the cheerful reply.

Red Son was first he took the phone and held it in his hands like he was holding a piece of fragile bone porcelain before swallowing hard and then handing it to MK.

“If I give Noodle boy my two minutes, will he get four instead?” he asked, the monkey gave a shrug as if to say ‘hell why not?’ MK blinked back tears.

“You’d do that? But what about your parents?”

“My parents aren’t exactly tech savvy, hell my father can’t even use a cell phone, and besides this is our one shot for someone to track the call and I know dragon horse girl is more knowledgeable in that.” He explained, he glanced at Macaque who was still watching them keenly. That is if our ‘master’ didn’t have some way of blocking it but he didn’t want to smash MK’s hope.

“Thanks…” MK breathed and dialled in Mei’s number, for a brief horrible moment he thought what if it was the early hours of the morning and she was asleep? What if she didn’t pick up? What if during the time they had been gone Mei changed her number? He had desperately wanted to call Pigsy and Tang but he agreed with Red Son, Mei was the one most likely to pick up and be able to use this call to find them.

“Hello?” Mei answered.

“Mei! Oh, thank god!”

“MK??!! Holy shit is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me!”

“Where the hell are you? Everyone is going insane! Monkey King is on the verge of going Kaiju trying to find you!”

MK looked at Macaque and he took in a deep steadying breath before trying again.

“I…I’m not allowed to say.”

“What?! Have you been kidnapped?”

“Yes.”

“Are you okay? Jeez that is a dumb question of course you’re not! you’ve been fucking kidnapped!”

“No…No we’re ok for the most part.”

“Hold on… ‘we’?” Mei asked.

“Red Son is here with me”

“Red Son got kidnapped too??!!”

“Yeah, we’re kind of stuck here getting trained…for something…” MK looked at Macaque and could see he was pushing his luck so stopped himself from going into further details.

“Man, that sinks my theory that Red Son kidnapped you in some stupid demon betrothal or something!”

“As if I would do that!” Red Son shouted.

“Wait was that Red Son? Is he there?”

“Yes…”

“Who did this? Tell me who so I can sic Monkey King and Pigsy on them, they are really wanting to punch someone”

“I’m…not allowed to say…” he whimpered. “Mei, you need to talk to DBK, Red Son said his mom can use wind magic to find stuff that might give you guys a lead.”

“Great!”

MK took another deep breath, he didn’t want to worry Mei even more by breaking down into tears over the phone, he wanted so badly to talk to her longer but knew his time was limited.

“Mei…I’m nearly out of time for my call could you please tell Pigsy and Tang that I love them and I’m really sorry for making them worry.”

“Sure thing” she whimpered he could hear her sniffing back tears. “Don’t you worry we’re coming to save you!”

“Could you tell Monkey King that I’m not giving up…and…and…I’m…” he could feel his voice cracking, tears trickling down his face.

“Tell my father to hurry up and rescue us! I have a whole tray of melon bread riding on a wager that’ll he finds us first!” Red Son declared loudly, “Please inform my parents that I, Red Son will not break so easily and neither will Noodle boy!”

“Times up” Macaque muttered holding out his hand.

“We have to go now Mei…I’m really sorry…I…”

“Dude don’t worry I’ll tell them, I hit record as soon as you mentioned being kidnapped…” he could hear her sniffle before returning to the phone in her strained cheerful voice that MK knew she had when she wanted to put on a brave face. “Tell Red Son he’s gonna loose that wager! Monkey King is so gonna get you guys out first!”

“Thanks…” he whispered as Macaque took the phone away and hung up. MK hugged himself as he fought back the urge to cry, he never thought how painful it was going to be telling his friends and family what could be his last goodbye. Red Son tentatively put a hand on his shoulder.

“Right now, that is out of the way, let us continue with your lessons…” Macaque declared.

#monkie kid red son #monkie kid mk #monkie kid macaque #spiceynoodle

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opalsdarkreadings · 4 years ago

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Devils Grin

Paring: Shinra x burned victim reader

Warning: Slight angst? (If you can call it that)

Notes : might make a part two to this! I really enjoy thei anime as much as My hero, but I’m taking a break till I finish up the manga

You understood why some people say it only takes one spark for your life to go up in flames. Nothing lasts, and nothing ever stays the same. The rainbow filled place you once knew crash before you shattering like glass.

Just in a matter of minutes everything you once knew and loved went up in smokes. Your home was now nothing more than ashes of what it used to be, that day plaguing your mind every time you closed your eyes. Left and right people were set ablaze and turned into those horrid creatures that haunt everyone’s nightmares and minds daily. That day you lost close friends, neighbors, and possible, a bit of your will to continue.

Having been caught in the crossfire of your friend turning, one minute laughing and reminiscing the old days, next you’re watching as they scream in agony as their bodies became engulfed in the flames of the infernal. Hands becoming claws as large as your upper body, talons as sharp as knives, their wails becoming more animalistic and demonic. You don’t remember much, or it’s that you choose not to bring up the memory, however; the most vivid part of that day is seeing a young man. Hair black as the ashes falling off your friend and eyes red as the flames burning before you, but that wasn’t what caught your attention. It was the grin he wore. The grin of the devil. Your mother uses to tell you, It spelled nothing but trouble. If so, why did you wake inside of the hospital instead of greeting your past loved ones? Why were you being left with only the burns of that day over your body? Why did the devil save you?

The soft ding of the door made your flinch from out your thoughts, making you quickly go back to placing a tray of baked goods over the display case. Your eyes gaze over your arm, the sleeves of your long white buttoned shirt sliding down, revealing the rough patch of charred skin. A wave of sadness and disgust overcame you.

“You should’ve died in that fire..” the nagging voice mumbles to you.

“Stand there any longer and we’ll have to place a price on you too.” Out of surprise, you jump turning back with bewildered eyes. The older lady fixed her warm brown eyes to your e/c orbs and sighs.

“I think you should head home, you look, tired love, we’ll wrap up closing and all that okay, and take some sweets with you too.” She said smiling warmly. “I’m...I’m fine..” you try to protest, but she held firm in her decision.

“Y/n please, you’ve been so jumpy as of late, take the day off, and even more. I know it’s only been a few weeks but please try not to drown yourself in work. They’re all resting peacefully now..” she assured, giving you an encouraging smile before walking off. You left your arms to fall to your side and your head drop.

Just the thought of staying home, confined by the walls of your small apartment made your stomach churn. Your scars becoming more irritated as a feeling of anxiety sets in. Taking in a few deep breaths, you decided to stop by that place before heading home. You went back and clocked out, grabbing your bag and jackets before wishing the owner a small farewell and walking outside.

A gently autumn’s breeze gently caresse over your cheek. You tried to inhale as much of the fresh air as possible.Shutting your eyes and lightly scratch over your sleeve before you digging. your nails into your arm, placing as much pressures into the skin.

nothing.

Not even a single tingle of feeling on the scarred skin. Eyes flying open and soft pain spreading through your chest, a feeling of depression and anger settled over you. You gripped more of your arm, till blood drip from it and stain over your shirt. You hated this, you hated your body, your face down to the ugly scared hands. That day claimed your friends and your ability to live and love happily.Was it your fault?

Did you cause of all of this? It must be! nothing ever goes right when you’re around. You’re nothing more then a cursed charm, ready to take steal away someone sanity and happiness.

“You should’ve been the one, not me.” F/n voice growls to you, their tone filled with nothing but hate and resentment.

You gripped over your head with a soft whimpers, “Just a voice....just a voice..” you mumble quietly. Looking around Your stuff your hands in your pockets and shield your face before continuing you walk along the bustling street’s.

The only place you’ve only ever felt safe and continent was company’s 8 building. Being out here for mere second could ease your anxiety. You’ve taken it upon yourself to visit company’s 8 building before heading home, lingering outside of the run done building with bliss and tranquility.

You didn’t understand why the building seems to ease your nerves, but at this point you don’t even try to question it.

Just like always, you were passing the building of company 8, the familiar hum of the generator filling our ears as you slowly move towards it. The chip paint of the building and almost worn down looked gave a sense of warmth to it then what other company buildings had. You stopped in the middle of the street and gaze upon the building. Eyes scanning over each curve and imperfection of the Company 8’s hideout. In the back of your mind, soft screams and plead played off in your head, the memories of that day crashing onto you like bricks. You felt tears gather at the corner of your tired eyes. You just wanted to thank him, but curse at him too. Thank him for getting you out before you had to witness anymore of that nightmare, but to also curse and scream at him for making you live through this hell. Remembering, and reflecting everyday. Asking constantly as to why you weren’t the one to take their place, to take their suffering. Why did it have to be F/n?

“Miss....mi-miss....miss!” The abrupt shout, made you flinch out your thoughts, (you’ve been daydreaming a lot as of lately)and cause your to turn to the voice. Eyes growing to the size of melons, your breath becoming shallow as you take in the sight of devil, himself. The dark mop of black hair was stained with droplets of sweat, his firefighter outfit, slightly damaged. Possible coming back from a mission of some sorts. His ruby eyes fix back over you, as he stood awkwardly before you with a small tint of pink of his cheeks

You hadn’t realizes you were staring that hard till he cleared his throat and looks off to the sides. The line of pink spreading further.

“Are you alright? I...umm kind of found you here by yourself. Are you looking for anyon-wait, do I know you?”

Silence fell over the both of to you as you try to get over your shock, Shinra still trying to ponder on who you were before he gasp. “I remember know! you’re that gir I saved a few weeks back- I...I’m sorry about what happened to your friend, and...umm and your home.” He glance back up to you. He seems to be taking in your scarred state with a gently gaze.

“You...you remember me?” You asked gently, calming down as your grip the strap of your bag and look back to him. The tension in your shoulder relax and you quickly try wipe at your eyes.

He nods, his gaze falling back over you, as he stood before you, “I couldn’t forget you to be honest, that day you were burn so badly. We didn’t think you’d make it.” He said soflty, eyes landing over the ground

“But you’ve prove us wrong.” He said picking his head back up and smiling your way.

“I didn’t want-.”

You barely was able to get your full sentence out before a loud bang echoes out from the city. Scream and shouts filled the streets, causing you and shinra both to look up. Both of you catching sight of a cloud of dark smoke and flames dancing in the air. The sighting of the infernal just a few streets away. At the place you work at.

“Shit! I thought that was the last of them?!” He cursed, but as he turned to you, your face was morphed in horror.

“She’s.....she’s back..”

#fire force #shinra fire force #oneshot #shinra x reader #fire force x reader #fire force oneshot

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theheartsmistakes · 4 years ago

Text

The Last Night Part XXVI

Cordelia stood beside the window in the old study with James on her left. The warmth from the fire did nothing to ease the chill that had settled in her bones after returning from Cecily and Gabriel’s house without Lucie. It’d been three hours since their return. Who knew how long that meant Lucie had been enduring whatever misery she’d been dragged into. Her stomach clenched and she grimaced as if in pain at the thought of her dear friend, alone in that horrid place.

James, upon hearing her or sensing her distress, took her hand his, entwining his fingers with hers so their palms pressed together. His hands were warm against her cold skin and she let herself lean against his shoulder. The contact helped to relieve some the anxiety enough for her to listen to conversation around her.

Will leaned over the table with both hands firmly planted on the wood. A look of destructive rage and distress ebbed his features into someone Cordelia hardly recognized. He hadn’t been himself since word arrived to them of Lucie’s capturing.

Tessa sat on the sofa, her hands clutching each other in her lap as if she were praying. She hadn’t spoken much since the news. Her features didn’t twist in fear or anger or sadness. She looked like one of the pale shells Cordelia had found on the beach once. A fragile, beautiful thing with the sound of the ocean raging inside of it.

Magnus stood at the table beside Will. They both studied the ring that James, Cordelia, Alastair and Thomas retrieved from Tatiana’s cold finger, now sitting on the handkerchief Cordelia used to pry it off. Grace had quickly explained the significance of it once again to the adults before going after her brother who was being seen by Brother Zachariah in an adjoining room despite his pleas to help find Lucie. Jesse was his name. His affection for Lucie seemed to run far deeper than that of a friendship. Cordelia could see it in his beautiful, sea colored eyes, the concern for her friend. Not just concern, the desperation. A painful, consuming thing desperation can be and it was swallowing the young Blackthorn boy whole. Between Brother Zachariah, Grace, and Will, they managed to convince him to go and be treated to be sure that his resurrection brought back the Jesse Blackthorn of old and not a new weapon being used by Belial for whatever his plans might be.

“I still don’t understand why one of us can’t just put it on and summon the bastard,” said Will, his dark hair spotted with strands of gray fell in his face uncharacteristically. “If he wanted someone, why not come for one of us? Why my Lucie?”

Cordelia watched Tessa shudder and close her eyes at his words. She understood now what plagued Mrs. Herondale. It was not sadness, anger, or fear— perhaps a mixture of all of those things, but more importantly, there was guilt.

“We have no idea the power this rings manifests,” said Magnus, curiously. “All we know is that Tatiana might have used it to contact Belial or he might have used it to contact her. If one of us were to put it on, we’d have no idea how to make it work.”

“So what should we do with it then?” Will demanded.

“I’m thinking,” said Magnus.

“Think faster,” said Will. “My daughter is trapped only the angel knows where with a prince of hell who plans to use her as a conduit of some sort. We don’t have time to sit and stare at it as if it’s going to rise and tell us what to do.”

“I understand your paternal concerns and while I sympathize, do not think for one moment if you continue to raise your voice at me in that condescending way I won’t turn you into a silent wall ornament until I figure out the best plan,” said Magnus without taking his eyes off of the ring.

Will moved back a step, voluntarily or not, Cordelia wasn’t sure. He had the good sense to bite back whatever was prepared to come out of his mouth next, but by the straining muscles in his jaw, it took a lot of effort.

James’s hand tightened around Cordelia’s. As much as she was drawing strength from him, it appeared he was drawing strength from her as well. She offered what she could and still felt as if it weren’t enough.

“There is something,” said Magnus quietly. “A spell. If there is anything tethered to this ring, it will reveal it.”

“Then why haven’t—“ Will took a deep breath through his nose and started again. “All right, is there a reason why you’re hesitant to do this spell?”

“Yes,” said Magnus and undid the buttons around his wrists so he could move his shirt sleeves up to his elbows. “It’s a revealing spell. It requires a lot of energy, energy that will leave me vulnerable and weak, but it will give us the information we seek.”

“Is it dangerous?” asked Tessa, the first words she’d muttered in over an hour.

“Only for me,” said Magnus, with so much kindness in his voice that tears sprung to Cordelia’s eyes.

“Magnus,” Tessa breathed.

“When your first child was born I thought you two idiots for bringing a helpless, vulnerable little creature into a terribly unfortunate world such as ours,” start Magnus as he stretched his fingers. “But the little bugger made the two of you so happy that it all seemed worth it. It made all the bad seem a little bit better. I didn’t possibly think you’d need anymore. Then the second one came along and your happiness tripled. I asked you once, why risk it? When you could lose everything so easily, why risk it? Do you remember what you said to me?”

Tears brimmed in Will’s eyes as he looked at Magnus. “Because a moment of that kind of pure happiness is worth a lifetime of sadness. That if I were to lose everything, if all I had left was the one memory of holding my child for the first time, I’ll have been grateful.” And to Tessa he said, “I am so grateful.”

Magnus nodded. “On each of their birth nights I made a silent promise to do whatever I could to protect and watch over them and do whatever I could to help in their times of trouble. I secretly prayed they’d have a lot more sense than their parents but it appears the apple does not fall far as the saying goes.”

James grimaced. “Just keeping life interesting.”

Magnus shook his head. “For this to work, I need absolute silence.”

“Would you like us to leave?” asked Cordelia.

“No,” said Magnus. “Just stay quiet.

He placed both hands inches above the ring and closed his eyes. At first nothing happened except Cordelia could feel the hair on her arms and neck rise to attention. She looked down at her arms at the tiny bumps that rose along her skin and noticed that James’s was doing the same. The air filled with an electricity like a brewing storm as blue sparks started to dance from Magnus’s fingertips.

The ring on the table began to rattle with enough force that the table shook beneath it. Soon Cordelia could feel the ground tremble beneath her feet.

“Reveal yourself,” whispered Magnus. “Who do you belong to?”

A picture fell from the wall inches behind Tessa, if it were not for Will’s quick movement, the thick frame would have landed on her head. He held her against him and settle back in the far side of the room where nothing could fall on them.

James, in a similar fashion, wrapped his arms over Cordelia’s head and his own. With limited visibility over his shoulder, Cordelia watched as the ring exploded with light, highlighting Magnus’s face with it’s blinding radiance.

“What is it you want?” said a voice from the ring that Cordelia felt she faintly recognized.

“Your help,” said Magnus, eyes still closed. “We need your help, Tatiana.”

“Tatiana,” said Will before Tessa hushed him.

“And why should I help you, downworlder?”

“Because we’re going to destroy the demon that murdered you,” said Magnus. “The one who took you away from your family. You can help us, if you can provide us with the information that we need.”

The ring went silent for a moment. Still rattling and glowing as the only sign that Tatiana was still there. The whole room seemed to hold their breath as they waited for a reply.

“What information do you need?

“Did you communicate with Belial through this ring?”

“No,” said Tatiana. “This ring belonged in my family for generations. It is nothing more than heirloom.”

James cursed into Cordelia’s ear.

“Is there anyway for us to communicate with Belial?”

“Only if he wants you to,” said Tatiana.

Magnus’s breathing hitched as his teeth grit together. “Is there anything you can tell us to help us fight against Belial?”

“Does he already have the child?”

“Yes,” grunted Magnus.

“Then you are already doomed.”

“No,” said Magnus. “There must be something we can do. Anything you can tell us.”

“Arriving up here, manifesting himself the way he did, exerted an extreme amount of his power, he’s likely recharging in the Shadowrealm now. As with all great evils, Belial was spawned from one of the seven heads of the great dragon Tathamet. He lorded over the Realm of Lies in Hell, and was mentored by Mephisto, and like his mentor, he is always in the shadows.

“A long time ago, the Lesser evils came to be discontent with the Prime Evils’ focus on humanity after the events of the Sin War, furious that the Great Conflict had been apparently abandoned. In the midst of this period, Belial and Azmodan saw a chance to overthrow the Prime Evils and take control of Hell for themselves. Belial manipulated Azmodan into making war against the Prime Evils. The two evils made a pact with their brethren, assuring them that humanity would not stand in their way in the course of the Great Conflict. Ruling over hell itself wasn’t enough for Belial, soon after he vested his time and efforts into Garreth Rau. An orphan with a spark of nephalem legacy in his blood, Rau was twisted by the Lord of Lies, becoming a powerful dark mage in servitude to Hell. Rue’s personality and memories were over written with the persona of the Dark One, an insidious and jealous mage. Belial planned to use Rau and his followers to build an army on Sanctuary, and after conquering the mortal realm, use it to launch an invasion against Heaven itself.

“Belial’s plan was foiled by Cain and his allies. Despite possessing overwhelming power, The Dark One succumbed to Cain’s resourcefulness. The persona of the original Garreth Rau briefly resurfaced and drove himself to suicide. It appears Belial is trying to enact his plan once again.”

“How do we stop him?”

“You can’t,” said Tatiana. “The only way to stop him was to keep him from possessing the child. Now that he has what he wants the only one who can stop him is the child.”

Tessa sobbed into Will’s chest and James’s arms wrapped tighter around Cordelia. She had little means of consoling him as she felt as if she were shattering herself.

Lucie, she wanted to scream. Her name is Lucie! Not the child!

“I wish you luck,” whispered the ring. “If I may ask for one small favor for my knowledge?”

Magnus’s hands shook as he held onto his power. “What is it?”

“Please, please give this ring to my daughter,” said Tatiana. “I would like to be with her in the only way that I can.”

“I’ll see that it’s done,” grimaced Magnus.

And just as the door to the library burst open, Magnus released his grip on the ring and collapsed backwards into the awaiting arms of Matthew who has just come through the door with Christopher on his heels. Through a curtain of blond curls, he looked around the somber room and said, “What’d I miss?”

(A/N: Thanks for waiting for this one guys. The story of Belial is not my own. It was pulled from a source and I kind of elaborated on it a bit. hope you guys enjoyed this and I’ll see you again on Friday!)

#the last night fanfiction #the last hours #chain of gold fanfic #chain of gold #jordelia fanfiction #james x cordelia #lucie herondale #belial

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rachywritessomething · 4 years ago

Text

Part 1

Sava didn’t like the desert.

She knew she wasn’t made for it. It was too bright and even as the world slowly turned itself to something cooler and not quite so unforgiving, the desert was still too harsh for even a creature like herself. Yet she had no desire for anything, so she followed Leo as he went digging in the sand with the rest of the caravan, their numbers searching for something of the world before.

It wasn’t all bad. Sava had only to sit on the ruins of some wall and keep her bloody eyes out for anything that could hurt Leo. There were lots of things that could hurt the little man: the crawlers in the sand, the stones of the walls at risk of falling, even thieves and other treasure hunters. The last of which rarely dared pass a second glance at the man when they realized who was casting a shadow over him.

Or rather, what.

Sava knew people didn’t like her. It had been something she had grown to accept as the years drug on. In this century at least she could keep enough memory to be mindful of the things they hated most about her. They didn’t like her bloody eyes, they didn’t like her cold skin -though that was becoming ever warmer by the decade- and they didn’t like her imposing size. One of Leo’s forefathers had once explained that she was made to be large, towering, and terrible, it was what gave her purpose.

At least she could remember things now. Many memories of her first years were only of her maker calling her by name and laughing.

Leo didn’t look like her maker. He was a spindly man who was far too gentle for making abominations. But just as his ancestor, he kept her around for protection and used her when ugly things had to be done. Sava wasn’t sure if she hated the man. There was a word an elf once used toward her… contempt, yes. Perhaps she felt contempt for Leo.

It didn’t matter though. She did not want to leave any more than she wanted to stay, so she remained where she was, obedient and becoming ever more intelligent with every new generation of charges.

“Sava, come down.”

The spindly man waved at her from the bottom of the trench. The diggers around him barreled the sand away from the hole they were forming so they could search for… what was it they were looking for? She wasn’t sure they had ever told her what it was and the more she considered it, the more sense it made to her that they wouldn’t have. The thought that she had not forgotten something but rather made an assumption almost made her smile. I’m learning...

Sava pushed herself off the high wall and fell thirty feet to the bottom of the trench, landing in a crouch that split the knees of her canvas pants. The barrel pushers parted for her as she walked over to Leo.

“I need you to go into the cavern,” he said, looking up at her through squinted eyes. His were the sort of dark that would do well in the garish light, probably the kind eyes that had come with her original form before they were damaged and bloodied. The thought of having beautiful, dark eyes like that had been a fleeting fantasy of hers, fleeting only because she realized that she did have those eyes, she would not be able to see them as often.

Sava looked beyond the man though, along the trench and to the place where the barrel pushers appeared to be ascending from. Then she looked back to him.

“What for?” There were many long years of dumb silence behind her that made the rattle of her own voice in her chest feel pleasent. It was hard to form many words at once, but she supposed in another century, she would be able to speak in long, poetic phrases and prattle until her voice faded.

“It smells like shit down there and no one else will do it,” Leo said impatiently. “You don’t have much of a nose for that kind of thing anyway.”

Sava flared her nostrils. “Like shit?”

“Not actual shit. It’s something else but it’s bad.” Leo grabbed her arm and pulled her in the direction of the chasm, parting even more of the barrel pushers. Sava watched them, feeling something close to satisfaction at watching them hurry past her out of fear.

The pit was more orderly than Sava had anticipated. There was a ramp spiraling down into the shadowy place, completely taken up by the workers and they would not have enough space to avoid her.

“Smells fine to me,” Sava said.

“Not this.” Leo gestured into the chasm impatiently. “The tunnel at the bottom. Go down and make sure nothing’s dying in there.”

Sava studied him, looking for a fear that would alert her to how cautious she should be. Not that Leo was the best human to gauge; his instinct was not as heightened as some of his ancestors. “Dying things can smell like shit.”

“Will you hurry up?”

Sava shrugged and checked her belt for the dagger before ruffling her human’s hair. “I will find the dying thing,” she promised before leaping into the pit.

This distance was jarring but Sava rolled on impact, settling on her hands and knees and peering into the tunnel, leading down into the bowels of the earth. Several excavators stood at the entry, and all of them stared at her with mixed expressions of fear, hatred, and disgust.

Sava stood and strode past them, ducking as she stepped into the tunnel. The small gathering took a step back, widening away from her as if she was the one who emitted the foul stench. Something was rotting though, and it was something she was only dimly familiar with.

One thing Sava realized about humans was their utter reliance on their eyesight. She herself was guilty of it often though she had plenty of other perfectly capable senses. She did not need a light in the dark because she could hear the length of the hallway by the way her breath echoed, she could feel the tremors of the solid stone under the soles of her boots, she could taste the age of a place untouched by the outside until today.

And she could smell a dying thing.

There was a difference between the dead and dying, though she had trouble distinguishing exactly what it was.

The tunnel angled downward, becoming ever more musky and untouched. Dust moved under her feet.

The stench reached that undeniable closeness when the corridor opened into a room. Sava stepped down three steps and into a circular chamber. Her eyes, growing used to the dark, made out the faint outlines of drawings on the walls. They, like the stench, were oddly familiar, and she brushed her hand over the wall until she found what she was looking for. Her fingers fell over a switch and flipped it up almost out of instinct.

Nothing happened.

Sava shrugged and stepped into the room, her eyes making out the details of a desk or a box in the middle, as if it was on display. It rose as high as her hips and was easily seven feet long, its width half that. When she ran her fingers over it, she found it was cold metal beneath a thick, sticky layer of dust.

She crouched down, wrinkling her nose at the stench, and felt the side of the structure until she found a small lip. It was almost perfect, but age and use had made it a little more evident. A little more searching and she found the partial curve of hinges.

Sava had found that with her retention of memory and the ability to accumulate knowledge was the occasional bout of curiosity. It was a very human sensation and it was one that led men to peril more often than reward, but still it was a powerful magic and as such, she gave into it when it came about. It was not just an investigative obligation, but a desire to throw herself into the perilous unknown.

It took no deliberation for her to round the box and fling it open.

The stench that had been pungent before hit her, choking her and making her reel back, gagging. Her eyes watered to the point of blindness and she hunched over, her body threatening to retch up the flavorless rations Leo had given her.

When she had enough bearing to stand up straight, she approached the box and peered into it, holding her breath. What she had expected before was a dying thing, what she knew awaited her was the decay after death. What she saw was neither.

The thing inside the box was decaying, her nose assured her of that much, but the lines of its form quivered like a child in the snow.

Sava leaned in, still saving her breath. The creature was… breathing.

Her hand wandered to the hilt of her dagger. “Do you live?”

From the box, bright, red eyes appeared, as deep as the color of blood. Before Sava could draw back, something grabbed her by the throat and pulled her down with considerable strength. It took the sheer will of her arms on the side of the box to hold herself away from the decaying thing, her dagger forgotten.

“Do you live?” It’s ragged voice came as nothing more than stirred. Sava wrenched herself away, clattering to the floor and breathing the horrid stench hard as her mind struggled for blood. She ripped the dagger from her sheath.

And the creature rose from the box, its eyes still glowing, narrowed, fixed on her. “Do you live?” it rasped again.

Sava pushed herself to her feet and stepped back, putting a safer distance between herself and this rotting thing. “I live,” she growled, raising her dagger threateningly. “More than you.”

It let out a shriek that reverberated off the walls and those red eyes flew closer. Sava managed to catch the slimy wrist before a hand could wrap around her throat again and swung the creature into the wall.

It crumpled and growled, glowing eyes still fixed on her. She raised her dagger again. “Do not make me kill you, dead thing.”

It lunged again, tackling her. Her dagger found its way into the thing’s stomach and something oozed over her hand, like sludge. Before it could bite at her throat, she caught its neck and squeezed, making it hack over her.

“Do not make me kill you!”

“Die, brother!” Its strangled words caught her off guard for just a moment, but before the decaying thing could do anything, Sava wrenched her hand up, disemboweling the creature on top of her.

Its red eyes stared at her for a moment, still wide with fury but without any indication of registering pain. Then they dimmed and the creature collapsed on her, still twitching and breathing.

“Release yourself, brother.” Sava threw the body off her and wrenched the dagger away only to drive it into one of those dimmed eyes. In the dark, it seemed to smile at her. So she pulled out her dagger again and turned it to the serrated side, laying it over the throat of the creature. “Do not call me brother,” she spat in sudden anger.

“We are brothers,” the creature whispered. “They just got you right.”

Sava found a fistfull of hair and drew the knife across the creature’s jugular, spraying blood. For a moment, it seemed it was laughing but it stopped as she used her blade to sever its neck.

Sava hefted the decapitated head up, staring into its gaping maw. “I am no brother to you,” she sneered as she stood. It was so very human to insist upon the last word but these days she felt like she was almost as human as any one of them pulled from a woman’s womb. Certainly more than this decaying thing.

She wiped her dagger on her canvas pants and resheathed it before walking out of the cave, surprised that she felt somewhat shaken by the encounter. Fear was a fun emotion to have sometimes, especially when it was unfounded.

In the welcome light of the sun, the diggers parted from her, some even running to evade her path. Now, more than before, they were horrified by her and some even screamed and retched at the sight of her.

Sava did not care. She walked around the long path out of the pit, pushing past anyone who could not smell her in time to dart ahead.

When she emerged into the main trench under the wall, she met Leo’s eyes, wide with shock and fear. It was strange; she had never known Leo to fear her though she supposed wearing the rotting insides of a monster made her more unpleasant than usual.

Sava tossed the head to Leo’s feet, watching with some interest as it rolled. It did look human in the light, but pale and it’s open eyes were as redder than the blood that oozed from its stump of a neck which was closer to black sludge than anything else.

“I found your dying thing,” Sava said, pointing to the head.

Leo’s face turned red and his teeth were clenched in anger. “Why did you bring it here?”

“I left the rest of the body in the chamber,” she assured him. “But it shouldn’t harm you.” Sava stepped as if the pat the spindly man’s shoulder, but he wriggled away before she could step into reach with all the elegance of a decapitated snake. She shrugged and walked along the trench.

#Untitled WIP #what do you get when the monster is starting to become more human?#am writing #wirtblr #fantasy #monster #tw gore #after the dark below

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quentin-arliamari · 3 years ago

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Locked In: Prologue

Preliminary Data stream loading. Signs of possible instability detected. Further data required for affirmation.

Video steam initialized. Recording starting in 3… 2… 1

A soft sigh escaped from a pair of velvetine lips. Data streams were always such a hassle and could be tampered with so much easier than normal notes. Perhaps this is just an extra measure to ensure the notes turned in are true to fact?

Heels clicked against the floor as the refined office soon left the field of sight. The building remained quiet save those echoing clicks, yet every surface reflected Quentin’s current appearance as they proceeded towards the lift to receive their first case.

Still in their form from their previous research studies the being looked and appeared to be a rather adrogynous human in dark business attire. Humans. Quentin leaned against the lift wall as they began their ascent to the Council Chamber. Humans were fickle creatures with varying temperaments. Some societies were all accepting and more than kind while others were cruel and seemed to know nothing but bigotry.

The door opened with a low electrical hiss and Quentin stepped out. The same hiss seemed to stay at the base of their skull as the room illuminated with lines and runes of cyan and violet lights. Nine podiums circled the room, their seats high enough that all that could be seen was the faint glowing eye insignia that either marked the Council’s faces or perhaps decorated some sort of mask or helmet. No one to this day knows. The hiss seemed to grow louder and louder until finally a familiar tickle of electrical current felt as if it reached Quentin’s nervous system.

The Council began to speak, but their words were less heard and more felt through the Defense Reformer’s entire self being.

The Eye has requested you look into a matter for us. Timelines such as your 10-06’s have experienced offshoots since their very conception. The Locke virus seems to be mutating faster than anticipated, and while the essential mechanics for otherworldly participation is not hindered, that is not our main concern.

Similar to that of the trading type locke we have reason to believe what otherworlders call a TypeLocke may prove to be a more serious glitch in the actual world’s matrix.

You will not be sent alone, Reformer. We are sending an Enforcer to keep an eye on your progress. Should there seem to be a glitch serious enough you will be extracted and the infected timelines destroyed.

The glow around the room began to intensify and Quentin need not speak their agreement of their assignment. There was no rejecting an assignment from the Council, let alone the Eye. Bowing their head the Reformer approached the center of the room. Electricity began to ripple through their body before they turned into bright lights of data.

Error, subject unable to engage in mainline character format. Reconfiguring… Reconfiguring… loading. Loading complete

Human bodies were always so annoying, especially with all of the repressed emotions Quentin kept inside all of their life. Wordlessly they gathered their travel pack and bid their grandmother a respectful farewell as they left the small cottage in Postwick.

Flicking their amber eyes left and right they finally made their way over to their neighbor’s home. The home of the current Galar champion Leon, his mother, and his younger brother Hop. The young adult knocked on the door and was greeted by the mother of the two boys. The two had a nice talk over tea about Leon’s temporary return home and how excited Hop would be.

Sequence out of order. Warning: Proceed with Caution.

A half smile found its way onto Quentin’s features as they ignored the warning flashing in their eyes. What did they expect? Of course the sequence would be broken when you have an adult take the position of a child.

“Have you ever thought of becoming a trainer, Quentin?”

The soft question was enough to bring the Reformer out of their trance, “Well… sort of. My gran would appreciate it if I were to get out of the house more, but I’m not really the field travel type. I prefer to stay in one space.” Quentin mused as they finished their tea, the two could hear Leon and Hop outside, eagerly chatting as it seemed the older brother was giving the younger a brand new Pokemon.

“Well why don’t you speak to Leon? I know you’ve aged out of the exploratory stage before trainers have to decide a type to expertise in, but perhaps he could help see what can be done so you can still enjoy the life of a trainer.”

Quentin’s eyes widened. Did the code just?

Sequence righted, proceed as normal.

The code fixed itself. Things were sure to continue to be out of order but perhaps…

A small smile spread on the brunette’s face. “I think I’d like that.”

The night continued on with Leon putting Hop through some mock battles before their mother began a wind down period before dinner. That time is when Quentin approached Leon. Not saying anything they leaned against the lone tree by the practice field. The Champion, as sharp as ever, did not miss a single beat. Arms crossed he stood beside Quentin as the two seemed to contently watch over Hop, his mother, and their grandmother.

“Hop has told me a lot about you, said you moved to Postwick not that long ago from Kanto?” Leon asked, his eyes flicking over to the other. When he received a small shrug in response he hummed. “He also said you have always been kind to the Pokemon around town but neither you or your gran own any… Even if you don’t become a professional battle trainer, have you put thought into becoming a trainer anyways?” Either this man was way more perceptive than he let on or his mother talked to him.

“Sort of, I was never lucky enough to be able to travel to Pallet Town to receive a starting Pokemon from Professor Oak. So I’ve never been registered or been allowed to decide a specialty.” Quentin droned on as they tried to keep a neutral expression, however, the new false memories began to flood them with overwhelming emotions. A frown pulled at their lips. “And since Galar seems stricter than Kanto, Gran and I were never sure if I could travel to Wyndon for proper registration.”

Leon watched with curious and sympathetic eyes, his lips parting to say something more. Before he could his younger brother came rushing over with finished kebabs for the two to try as dinner was being set. His gaze lingered as Quentin carefully took one and they tussled Hop’s hair before sending him back towards the house, following after him as their neutral expression returned to their features.

The meal went by with idle chatter and talk of adventures. Quentin listened to them all with a carefully placed expression that showed interest while remaining professional distance. The two guests bid their farewells, but they did not get far before Leon came running out after the two.

“Quentin! Hey wait up a sec!” The purple haired man called out. The person of interest indeed stopped with a sigh, motioning for their grandmother to go ahead they turned to Leon. “It’s not a guarantee, but maybe we can go to Professor Magnolia’s house tomorrow? If both she and I vouch for you, perhaps the people at registrations will have to agree to let you become a trainer!”

Quentin’s eyes widened, why was he trying so hard? The code had a lot to do with interactions, but Leon also seemed like the type of person to do something like this unprompted. The corner of their lips twitched upwards.

“Alright, sure… but I’ll be leading the way.” They spoke with a teasing, but knowing, tone of Leon’s horrid sense of direction. The man looked a bit sheepish as he let out a small chuckle in agreement.

As he watched after the hopefully soon-to-be trainer Leon had to rub his eyes. Perhaps it was all of the travel and excitement from the day’s events, but he could have sworn Quentin shifted as if a Porygon, if only for the slightest of seconds. Rubbing the back of his head Leon tried to shake off the strange feeling. He just needed some sleep, and with that he turned in for the night himself.

#Defense Reformer #Pokemon #Pokemon Shield #Fanfic #Fanfiction #OC Insert #Leon #Maybe eventual Leon x OC?#Unsure of any ships yet #Typelocke

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imagine-loki · 4 years ago

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Hiding in Plain Sight

TITLE: Hiding in Plain Sight CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Three AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE:

Imagine coming from a line of nobility or royalty and being in an arranged marriage with Loki in an attempt to strengthen your kingdom / alliance with Asgard. You’re not entirely on board with the idea but figured that the best you could do was to get to know your fiancé.

You form an agreement with Frigga for you to pose as Loki’s personal servant for a few months so you can get to know who Loki really is – beyond the veil of his responsibility to the Asgardian throne, behind all the masks he wears when facing the public, to really know who Loki is behind closed doors as you slowly fall for each other.

How long will you keep up the ruse with the God of Lies?

RATING: General Audience

Raven had been sorting a few things while Loki was bathing. She thought little of it though she felt he needed some salts to alleviate his obvious muscle aches. There was some at the very back of the cabinet that contained other bathing items he liked. It was unopened and clearly there for a considerable time but the great thing about salts, she knew, was the older, the better. She forewent the usual bubbling mixtures and scents and just used them and a splash of lavender. Any pain Loki was feeling would soon evaporate with that.

Less than ten minutes after Loki entered the bath, the door to his rooms opened and a woman entered. For a moment, both women looked at each other in surprise.

“Can I…?” Raven was about to ask the clearly well-bred and wealthy young woman as to if she could assist her in any manner.

“What are you doing here?” The woman demanded.

There was a millisecond in which Raven thought the woman knew who she was with the conviction in which she spoke. “I…”

“Get out, servant.” Raven stood still. “Are you deaf?”

“I’m thankful to say that I am not but I am afraid that I cannot fulfil to your request. I am in the employ of Prince Loki and only he or another more senior member of the Aesir royal family or my own superiors can demand such of me.” Raven smiled brightly.

“I dare say Mother Dearest brought you in to get him used to Light Elves before that pompous twit comes. Norns, Loki was right, you all do look so dull and dim.” The woman snarled at her.

Raven felt as though she had taken a hit to her very being at the comments the woman was making. Not that she herself was making them, as clearly, she was anything but a nice creature but that they were the regurgitated words of Loki. To hear that he thought so little of those he knew nothing of hurt her deeply. “Opinions on appearances are very much open to debate as it is at the discretion of each individual to find someone attractive or not. Now, can I assist you with anything or are you merely here to make a nuisance of yourself?”

“How dare you speak to me in such a manner, you filthy…Where are you going?”

“I have duties to do for His Highness. I don’t have time for this.”

“Do you have any idea who I am?”

“As you are not the Princess of Alfheim, I can’t imagine that it is overly important as to who you are as you are not to be the Prince’s wife so safe in that knowledge, I really could not care less as to who you are.” Raven thought over the few other duties that would need doing while Loki was bathing to take her mind over the more obvious situation as to what this particularly unpleasant woman was doing in the rooms of the man who would be called her husband. Neither she nor Loki were required to be virgins on their marrying and as they were at an age where she expected him to at the very least have past girlfriends, overall, she did not feel she should be offended if he was not one since that would have been hypocritical but with the knowledge that he was soon to be married, she would have hoped that he would show her some modicum of respect and not sleep around or worse, have a mistress through their engagement, even if they had yet to stand together on it. With the agreement signed, everything else was merely pageantry to what was declared. It hurt her if she was honest.

“That dim twit, she will have to get used to me because I will be here when she arrives and while she may wear the tiaras and have her pretty dresses, I will have Loki’s interest.” The nameless woman sneered joyously. “I will have Loki deal with you.”

“I am shaking in my shoes.” Raven had an issue with sarcasm. Her father always warned her of that but his reprimands were never as strong as he would have liked them to be as she was the only girl amongst four sons. She could not best her brothers in rough and tumble play but her wit was as swift as theirs.

“You will rue the day you met me.”

It took everything in Raven’s power to not state that she did so already for nothing more than the inconvenience if nothing else.

“Useless Light Elves, Loki was right about you all.” With that final statement and still without a name, the woman departed.

Raven worked aggressively through her frustration at what the woman had just said. How she referenced Light Elves in general and her in particular. She worked aggressively at how the woman’s thoughts echoed Loki’s and she worked angrily at the hurt of it all. The fact that this horrible creature would be the man she would have to marry broke her heart. He saw Light Elves as beneath him. She had seen herself that there was something in his features on reference to her in their earlier discussions that told her he had no time for her.

When he exited his bathing rooms, she snapped and spat those words at him, her wounded ego, her pride in herself, her people, all of it hurt by the man standing in front of her and his horrid partner. She stormed out with no real plan of what she was going to do, she just needed to get away. Part of her wanted to go to Frigga and tell her what she found out and hope the monarch would call it off. Part of her did not even want to waste time doing that. But where would she go? Her parents would not accept her reasons as valid enough to break a pact with Asgard. Mistresses were not as commonplace in the modern era but they did exist. She would be told to get on with it. Give him a son or two and bear whatever came. A mistress was not a wife, they would not hold the standing she would. Something so inconsequential would not be worth the risk of breaking the pact. To do that would be spitting in the face of the most powerful of the realms. It would make enemies of many long-time allies. She stopped and sighed. Thinking of it like that, she knew there was nothing she could do. She could not fail Alfheim like that, her happiness did not supersede her realm.

“Sweetheart?” Raven turned to see Frigga behind her. Seeing the turmoil in her face, Frigga excused her ladies. “Raven, what is wrong?”

Raven had learnt over the years to hold a stoic exterior, even if her heart was breaking but the kind manner in which the Allmother questioned her blatantly unhappy wellbeing caused her to hiccup for a moment before inhaling deeply and raising her head. “Just homesickness, Allmother. Nothing more.” she smiled.

The look Frigga gave her told her that the older woman did not buy her explanation in the slightest but the Allmother knew from her appearance that Raven would not allow the wall she was hiding her woes behind down. “Understandable. It can be very overwhelming to come to a new realm, I understand.” The way Frigga stood beside her told Raven that she wished for her to walk with her. At that moment, she would rather boil her own foot off but she knew she could not decline so taking another deep breath to steady her breathing, she walked along just a step or two behind the monarch as a sign of her being of lower standing.

“I take it you have met my son in one of his more sombre moods.”

“Sombre?”

“He and his brother are prone to skirmishes. When only brute strength is involved, Thor wins more often. I saw my sons wrestle in the training grounds, as well as Thor’s less than honourable tactic that gave him the win. I know Loki feels cheated at such times leading to him becoming less than happy with things.”

“He did seem somewhat peeved on his return to his rooms, yes but he did not share his thoughts with me. Though he seemed to appreciate my being concerned for him having leaves and twigs in his hair and muck on his face.”

Frigga gave a small smile. “He needs someone to show him some care and compassion. He is missing such in his life now.”

It took everything in her arsenal for Raven to not show her anger and disgust at the thought of caring for someone that was so horribly cruel about her. If she had known before she showed her concern about how Loki felt about Ljósáfar, she would have gone to the training grounds to cheer on Thor herself. Instead of voicing her disdain, she merely nodded and continued to walk with Frigga.

They walked for a time, speaking of different matters, Frigga trying to make Raven feel more comfortable on Asgard, not aware of her real issue. When they turned a corner to come face to face with a startled and confused looking Loki, both women ceased talking.

“Mother.” He bowed dutifully to his mother. “I hope I am not interrupting anything?” he looked between the women as he spoke.

Internally, Raven scoffed to herself. She knew what he was not saying, he very much hoped he was interrupting something, going by the way he was looking at her as if trying to see if her features would tell if she had regurgitated what had been said to her not too long before in his rooms. She kept her face emotionless and maintained eye contact, causing him to raise a brow.

“I was merely speaking with your maid as she was saying that she misses Alfheim.” Frigga looked around at Raven who nodded slightly. “She looked like she needed a friendly ear.”

Loki looked at Raven again with slight remorse in his face but also fear that she would reveal his less than acceptable words on her realm to his mother. “I can only imagine.” There was no denying the disgust in her face as she turned to no longer face him, her disdain blatant. “I am sorry to come at such a time, however, I do require her again.”

Raven watched Loki’s demeanour around his mother. It was polite, but not a false one, something she could very much believe him to use commonly, but there was clear respect and love for her. She had to commend that to herself. A lot of men had little or no time for their mothers, but Loki clearly adored his.

“Of course.” Frigga nodded. “But as she is new to your employment and she is somewhat dealing with her change in circumstance, do not be overly harsh on her.”

“I am never harsh with my maid.” Loki looked appalled at his mother.

Again, Raven forced words to remain unsaid. She wanted to reveal herself and indeed his words, but she failed to do so and remained silent. With a slight nod, she put her head down as a maid could be expected to do and followed behind Loki after he bid farewell to his mother and walked back to the palace, dreading whatever it was he would say.

#Loki #others #submission #Submitted fic #wolfpawn #chapter 3 #hiding in plain sight

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bluepenguinstories · 3 years ago

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Remoras Full Chapter XXXVIII: Four Pomegranate Seeds

Back in elementary school, I had a crush on this girl named Pomme. Being as young as I was, I didn’t know how to act on my feelings. All I knew was that I wanted to be friends with her. But those feelings were uneasy, as well, and it would present itself as a silly mixture of wanting to be near her at all times and also wanting to steer clear of her at all times.

What resulted was us spending time together on the playground, playing and having fun, but also a strong desire to hide and find somewhere else to be whenever the opportunity presented itself. Another thing that would happen was that I would act in ways that I should have known better than to have acted.

One defining instance was in third grade when our class took a field trip to the local beach. Everyone had plenty of fun and splashed others with water, made sandcastles, and little sand angel imprints. Pomme and I, however, sat off away from the others. She too was building something out of sand, but it wasn’t a castle. It didn’t look like anything in particular. Maybe she just wanted to make a pile. I recall trying to help her, adding little sticks to the top.

At one point, she leaned close to me said, “I wanna tell you a secret.” I felt little things in my arms and legs do a funny dance and my heart performed circus tricks.

“Wh...what is it?” I asked, a little bit on the nervous side.

She then pressed her face up to my ear and whispered, “I want to eat sand.”

It wasn’t what I expected to hear, but some part of me still saw it as an opportunity. Opportunity for what, I didn’t know, but I stood up anyway.

“You should go for it! I think if you want to eat sand, and if it makes you happy, then you gotta eat sand!” I felt so proud and I was sure I imagined myself as some kind of superhero.

Next thing I recall, however, was that the teacher dragged a crying Pomme toward me while I played out on the beach.

“Did you tell Pomme to eat sand?” The teacher asked. I looked over to Pomme and she was bawling her eyes out and saying how it tasted gross. I knew I was in trouble. I just nodded my head real slow.

“That’s not right. Proserpina, I have no choice but to write you a referral,” the teacher’s grim expression sealed my fate, and my perfect record was about to be tainted. “Now, apologize to Pomme.”

I looked over. It was a horrid sight.

“Sorry…” My voice trailed off as I only managed that one word.

“For?” The teacher pressed.

“For telling you to eat sand,” I added on, my words weak and flimsy.

“It’s so grody!” Pomme whined, and she spat out bits of sand from her mouth while at the same time I noticed snot run down her nose.

After that fateful field trip, Pomme and I stopped talking to each other. We avoided each other and word spread that I was some kind of bully that made other kids eat sand. Not a great time to be alive. In the next grade, I didn’t see her at all, and I heard she changed schools. From time to time I would think about what became of her. How I wondered if she ever came around to the taste of sand, or if she ever came up with a different wish. But whatever the case may be, I never knew. Once she was gone, I never saw nor heard from her for the rest of my days.

So what was the point of that recollection? Was it to say that I’m bisexual? No, because that would’ve only taken two words: “I’m bisexual.”

There, I said it. OK. So was it to say that I knew what it was like to act weird over a crush, so I could relate to my former roommate/friend? Well, sure, but the difference back then was that I was a little kid and my former roommate was in her 20s. In other words, I was justified.

Nor was that recollection meant to foreshadow that I would see that childhood friend again. There was no, “or so I thought.” Nothing like that. As much as part of me wishes it were so, I didn’t mind if it never happened. Some friends came and went through our lives and as great of a time as we may have had, they end up not leaving much of an impact. Maybe it was that when we parted with friends as kids, it was during more fun or carefree moments, so it didn’t seem to matter as much. Or it could have been that there were so many other friends to make due to being surrounded by people your own age.

That could have just been me. I wouldn’t say my experiences were universal, but it may have been easier to move on when there were others to flock to when one person left. I wasn’t really sure what the differences were. Things were the same at university, weren’t they? Maybe growing up took from me that carefree innocence or maybe I just found myself a stranger in what was once so familiar to me.

It was hard to say.

Those memories resurfaced, as if washing ashore after being lost at sea. There wasn’t any particular feeling attached other than the feeling of nostalgia. But it wormed its way in, found itself a home and dwelt in my mind rent-free.

“I think we should be apart for a while,” I told my boyfriend, Hades. I loved that cute, redheaded boy with his puffy hair, but it was just the environment.

It wasn’t the memory which spurned such a decision, but there was a general sense of longing.

“You mean like a break up?” He asked.

“No, nothing like that. I just think I need to go back to university. Like, physically. I still want to finish my education and it’s just been hard to do while living here. Please understand.”

“I do,” was what he told me.

Still, I was hesitant as I re-enrolled and opened the door to the dorm room.

“Looks like I’m back,” I muttered to myself and gulped.

In a strange sort of luck, I had been assigned the same room I had before I left – when I thought I had left for good. School had become too much for me as more and more of my time was spent living with Hades at his mom’s house. He exhumed corpses for a living and his mother was a mortician – I helped her out with that, made myself some money in the process. It was a nice, humble sort of living. But maybe hanging around stiff, dead folks wasn’t my cup of tea. Maybe it never was, and I just thought I could do it because I was doing something that my boyfriend loved doing.

Oh, how foolish that was.

The dorm’s setup was just the same as I had left it, as well: rather than multiple rooms, it was all one room and it had a bunk bed at the corner of the wall.

Yet the room was empty, save for the backs that I set upon the floor. Not just an empty in that there wasn’t much there, but that there was an absence present, one I couldn’t quite articulate.

Or maybe I can articulate all too well, I thought as the image of my former roommate came up. How her absence was felt, yet the absences of all those friends who came and went throughout childhood seemed to mean so little. That was another reason I dropped out: after she left, abrupt and without explanation, I was so focused on trying to find her, hoping that she was alive and well and save, that I just couldn’t focus on my studies. Whether it be the environment or the distress, it just wasn’t the right time.

I plopped down, headfirst on the bottom bunk of the bed. Fresh floral scent of clean sheets filled my nostrils and a serene smile forced its way out of me.

“It’s the right time now,” I sighed, a hint of ecstasy, “I’m back home.”

There were still things in my mind which wouldn’t go away. My registration said that I had a roommate already chosen, but didn’t provide a name, and I also didn’t see anyone upon entering.

Heh. Wasn’t it like this when I first met Demetria as well? I was already situated and made comfortable and I thought she must have been my roommate’s younger sister. Man, I feel bad about that. It feels like I was making fun of her height, which I did not mean to do at all. But I’m guessing I felt bad at the time too. Maybe nothing changes after all.

Somehow I had passed out. What brought me out of my sleep was a ticklish sensation as I felt something nudge against me. In a jolting panic, I bolted up and almost hit my head on the ceiling of the top bunk in the process.

“You. You’re in my bed,” groaned a hoarse, yet high-pitched voice. While that may have sounded like a contradiction, it wasn’t: I heard both a bird-like chirp as well as the tone of someone who had just woken up on the wrong side of the bed or went all day during the height of a heatwave without a drop of water.

I turned to see a cloaked girl, on the hinges of five feet tall and with messy blonde hair.

“Demetria?” I asked, surprised, and my voice just a little groggy as well.

“No. Hecate,” my new roommate corrected, “I don’t know who this ‘Demetria’ is, but that’s not me. Now get out of my bed.”

How specific of a denial. Hmm…

“What makes you think this is your bed?” I argued and scowled for good measure.

“I need to sleep closest to the floor so I can have easiest access to my rituals!” She explained, which explained nothing, but for emphasis, she slammed her stick down. “Especially because I have not yet mastered broom riding, so sleeping closer to the ceiling is not recommended at my current level as I could accidentally end up floating out the window in my sleep and falling to my death upon waking up.”

I...had no words. So instead, I tilted my head, let my jaw hang, and one word escaped from me:

“What?”

She sighed and shook her head.

“I can’t believe I have to explain this to you. No, of course I do. Mortals don’t know any better. Very well: I am a witch. Get it now?”

“Like Wicca?” I asked in earnest. Far be it for me to make fun of someone, especially if it was a religious thing.

“No, I’m a creature of dark arts and forbidden sorcery, bound to this earth to curse any who dare cross my path. Animals cower before me, save for this frog I found the other day,” she reached into her cloak and pulled out a small box, opened it up, then a frog hopped out. I freaked out and stood on end away from the bed.

“You released a frog in our dorm!” I was outraged.

“Yes, that frog is my familiar,” she stated all proud with her hands on her hips, “also, my bed now.”

She curled up all snug on the bottom bunk. Somehow I felt as if I had been tricked. Bamboozled, even.

“Come on, really? I was here first!” I whined.

She glared at me. Somewhere around the bed, the frog was still nearby, hopping and croaking about.

“I’ll relent and give you the bottom bunk if you decide to become my apprentice. Deal?”

It really wasn’t worth it, I could have just taken the top. I used to love the top. But there was a nostalgia attached, something which told me it was only right, it was just, to take the bottom bunk.

“Sure. Deal,” I agreed, though it all seemed ridiculous, if I was being honest.

“The contract has been sealed. You are now bound to me,” she stated in what seemed like the lowest voice she could muster.

“I’m what now?”

Rather than answer, she got up and took to the ladder. Once she was on the top bunk, she poked her head down and glared at me.

“Just so you know, if I fall to my death in my sleep, I will curse you and your bloodline for all eternity.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” I shrugged off the vague (possible) threat. For what it was worth, I didn’t think there was much of a bloodline to curse in the first place. I had no intention of raising any children. Besides, Hades couldn’t have gotten me pregnant even if he wanted to, though he did express some desire to undergo bottom surgery, just not any time soon.

While every cell in my body begged for me to stay in bed, I had other business to attend to and the day was far from over.

“I’m going to the campus bookstore. Gotta pick up stuff for my classes,” I told my roommate.

“Don’t know why you feel the need to tell me that, but okay,” Hecate replied, and it rubbed me the wrong way. If it had been my past roommate, she would have said something much different. Things like:

“I’m proud of you.”

(Okay, that one was a stretch)

“That’s what you’re supposed to do.”

“Good for you.”

Or even, “make sure you keep focused on your studies and actually use your textbooks.”

Even if she could be rude at times, and it always seemed like she was in her own world where nobody else mattered, I really appreciated that she tried to keep me focused and stressed the importance of study.

Once, I recall ranting about relationships and romance, two things which occupied about 75% of my mind at any given time.

“What am I going to do now that Myron dumped me? Man, I thought we were perfect,” I complained just the day after she saw me break down and confide in her.

As usual, her nose was stuck in a book. Knowing her, it was one about fish or other marine creatures.

“Uh...I wasn’t paying attention,” she commented, “I don’t care, but give me the rundown again?”

I sucked in a large amount of air, even coughed up a bit of dust particles (our dorm really needed an air purifier or a better ventilation system), then explained in the most concise way fathomable: “So I was dating this guy named Myron, right? Boring name, but seemed like a cool dude. Then I was walking out from one of my classes and he stops me in the middle of the hall and goes: ‘Sorry, Proserpina, but Athena is just hotter than you, so I’m gonna pursue her instead’ like a total asshole and it seemed so out of left field. I was pretty attached and it left me devastated and now it’s still on my mind and it’s hard to focus on my schoolwork as a result.”

“Mm...that sounds dumb,” Demetria replied in the blunt manner that she could at times, “but did you know that jellyfish are mostly water?”

“Yeah, I think I heard about that one before. Maybe from you,” I answered her question without much thought, then realized that I had distracted myself from the topic at hand, “but anyway! What do you think?”

“Uh...do you really want my advice? Because I don’t have any advice.”

“Yes! Something, please.”

“Okay...uh...so he’s dating Athena now? Also, what are up with these names? Like, do we go to some goddess school or something?”

I waved my hand away.

“No, he’s not, he just wants to.”

“Okay. Maybe try dating Athena, then? That’ll show your ex...guy...thing.”

“No, that sounds too petty. My heart wouldn’t be in it, anyway. I’ve never even spoken to Athena.”

I’m amazed that she didn’t even think to question whether or not I’d be into girls. Maybe I haven’t given her enough credit.

“If you’re so keen on dating, why not that Apollo guy? Is there an Apollo guy? I think there is. I heard he’s into justice and whatnot, so he seems like an upstanding guy. Better than whoever Byron is.”

“Myron,” I corrected, “and I don’t think there’s any Apollo.”

“There isn’t? Then where did I hear the name Apollo Justice before? Oh, never mind. It doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t even be thinking about that stuff. We’re here to learn, not find the love of our lives. Focus on your studies and you’ll be fine,” she advised.

Despite her insistence that school was more important, it was just hard for me to concentrate on what was important. It was always that way, which made it a miracle that I even managed to graduate high school, let alone make it to university.

Besides that, she didn’t know my history, what it was like to live in my head. How could she when she was always in her own? Not to disparage her, but it did appear to be the case, no matter how much she nagged at me to get a good sleep and eat well and study. Yes, it probably seemed like I was the popular girl in high school, or that I dated around, couldn’t ever make up my mind, but that wasn’t quite true.

Friends were hard to come by. Like actual, good, honest friends. Yes, I had a few and we liked to laugh together and stay up late chatting over Facetime. But there wasn’t really much in the way of parties or big get togethers. Maybe I seemed like the type who would take part in those things, yet I just didn’t for whatever reason. It was actually somewhat of a shame when I thought about it, since I was sure I’d enjoy big hangouts or parties. It wasn’t a shyness or a pretentious feeling that I was too good for such things. It was just...I didn’t know what it was.

But it is true that I might have put more of an emphasis on relationships than I needed to. Dating, romance, they were things I longed for, enjoyed, but...well, I was in a happy, loving one now, and so I just didn’t need to think about such things. Friends, too, were a thing of the past, as first there was Demetria, and soon after, I lost contact with the few other friends I had. Hades counted, but…

I wasn’t sure. He didn’t come to mind very often anymore, even while I lived with him. When he did, it was usually made as an excuse to something rather than anything else.

There was little of note at the bookstore, few people were there and the whole thing looked like a ghost town. Even had there been more people, I wouldn’t have paid them much mind. I saw no reason to do so.

When I returned to my dorm room carrying several books in both hands up several flights of stairs, I noticed how quiet everything was.

It was quiet back then, too.

After I set the books down on the floor next to my bags (I’d put them in the closet later) I looked up and saw Hecate fast asleep with her frog on her lap.

“I guess she’s allowed to. She probably had a long day,” I remarked. From that angle, she actually looked peaceful and not an immature child fresh out of high school. Even her frog was still, aside from the little croaks.

Maybe there’s some validity to that frog being a familiar, I thought, but soon dismissed that same thought just as soon as it appeared.

I tried to pull out some of the textbooks and read in bed so as to get a head start on my classes. But it wasn’t long before all the words started to flow together and made less sense the more I went on. My eyelids fluttered, then turned heavy, and soon I passed out with my head in the middle of a textbook. When I awoke, sticky drool had flowed from out of my mouth and ran off until it found a home in the crevice between the two pages of the book.

I jolted up in a panic.

“What? How can this be?! I’ve never drooled before!” I shouted, enough that I woke my witchy roommate by accident.

“Ugh...can you keep it down? Witches require twice the amount of sleep that a normal person does,” she groaned above me.

I’ve got a feeling that’s not true, but I’m not gonna call her out on it.

“Yeah, sorry,” I mumbled, then pulled out a handkerchief and wiped up the drool. Just by that, it was clear that I was off to a terrible restart.

How did Demetria do it? How did she keep her nose in a book at all times and do nothing but study, study, study? It’s driving me mad just thinking about it.

As days passed, I attended classes and did my best to concentrate on what was taught. Without fail, however, something else always seemed to pop into my head and I would end up missing everything that the professor said.

There are so many students here staring with intent. It’s admirable, but how do they manage to do that? Are they all robots programmed to look at whoever’s in the front of the room? Lecture hall? Whatever it be? What if I were to stand up and walk to the front and just start pacing around, would they all look at me as well? That sounds narcissistic. I wouldn’t want them to. It’s just a little thought. For some reason I get the eerie feeling that they would. I wouldn’t even have to say anything.

By the time that whole string of thoughts ceased, I focused back in on what the professor was lecturing about.

“– And that’s how no-till farming works,” he explained. Our professor, Prof. Breeder, was a burly man with a long beard and tight fitting overalls. He spoke in a Southern drawl and it was like he lived everything he taught. At least that was my impression of him. I forgot everything he said about himself during the first day, so I could have been totally wrong and just making assumptions.

Class was soon dismissed without me having learned anything. I headed back off to my dorm room to give myself a break before the next class. I had two classes on Wednesdays, one ended right at noon, and the other started at 2 PM. Which gave me a two hour break to wind down and prepare.

As soon as I opened the door to my dorm, I was paralyzed in fear.

“What. Is. Going. On?” I stammered out the words.

There, seated in the middle of the floor, was Hecate, with a large black ceramic pot. She had a large ladle in her hand and seemed to be stirring something. I looked below the pot to see a portable hot plate.

“Hi. I’m brewing potions,” she stated without looking up, too focused on her concoction. I peered over to see a brownish tinged liquid and little potato and carrot pieces. Steam billowed from it, a faint scent of chicken permeated through the air.

Great. And I just got this place air freshened, too.

“Why are you making soup in our dorm?” I balked.

“I’m not making soup. They’re potions. I already told you that,” she groaned, then held up a wooden spoon that I failed to notice had been sitting beside her, “would you like a sample?”

I leaned in and wrapped my mouth around the spoon, then swallowed its contents in one fell swoop. Despite its searing heat, I didn’t mind, and the taste seemed to seep into every one of my taste buds and overtake my tongue. There was no denying it: there wasn’t just a faint chicken scent, but the exact taste of chicken stock broth. More than that, the potatoes seemed to have melted into the broth to create an equal measure smooth and creamy taste, something I didn’t even think possible.

“Oh. Oh wow,” I was near-speechless.

“It’s a love potion,” she explained, “I will not hold myself liable for any adverse side-effects.”

A...what potion?

“Uh, just so you know,” I spoke with an uncomfortable amount of hesitance, “I’ve got a boyfriend already.”

“That’s nice, though I never asked.”

How...how bold, I thought, before I realized that my thoughts were wrong, so changed course, no, what I should say is, “how rude.”

“It’s...it’s just that people don’t usually feed other people soup, don’t you think?” I tried to justify myself, something which I didn’t really need to do.

“It’s not soup, it’s a potion, and I wasn’t feeding you, I was just letting you have a taste. The rest of it’s mine. If you want a vial of it later, I will sell it to you.”

Is she seriously going to sell soup as if it’s a love potion?

“Anyway, if you don’t mind, I’m going to take a short nap before my next class,” I announced. To my surprise, she had something to say which didn’t involve being a witch.

“I don’t mind. I have chronic fatigue, so I get it.”

It really did feel like I was beginning to learn more about her.

Demetria also used to feed me. It wasn’t a lovers thing, though. Heaven’s no. In fact, I found it kind of annoying sometimes.

I’d wake up past my alarm, running late for class, and she’d berate me for not getting to sleep at a better time. When I was ready to head out the door, she’d always stop me and go.

“Make sure you’re eating well! Here, take this apple! And I made you a PB&J!”

Reluctant, I would take the sandwich bag and apple, and scoff.

“Thanks, mom,” I rolled my eyes, then ran off to class.

Now, I would’ve given anything to have that again. Someone like that there to remind me to eat well, sleep well, keep me focused. Even if it could get annoying, or if there was some possibility of her doing those things for some selfish sense of superiority (maybe she found me pathetic), I still think I took all of those things for granted back then.

In some ways, I admired her desire to focus on studies and lack of interest in relationships. I remember once I stayed up late chatting with a friend over the phone.

“So I think everyone knows the History Professor is banging the English Professor but nobody wants to say anything because it’s none of our business, but it’s just so annoying how obvious it is,” my friend, Clytie, relayed to me.

“Yeah, it’s really not my business, either, and they’re both adults and as long as they’re being professional, why should I care?” I tried to be engaged with her topic, but it was of little interest to me, I’ll admit.

I felt a painful thud as my mattress jumped about an inch or two in the air. I knew what it was right away: Demetria kicked her leg up against the top bunk.

“Keep it down,” she rasped, “I’m trying to read about electric eels. You need your sleep, anyway.”

“Who was that?” Clytie asked.

I waved my hand away.

“That was just my roommate. I’m sure I told you about her before.”

Clytie gave off her little dolphin laugh.

“Maybe, but I don’t remember much unless it has to do with me, tee-hee.”

“To be honest, she can be kinda annoying,” I admitted to Clytie.

“If that’s what you think of me, then I guess I’ll stop making you breakfast and packing you lunches,” Demetria threatened.

“No! Don’t!” I pleaded. As embarrassing as it was, I really didn’t want her to stop.

“Ha ha, well, I’ll let you two have your little spat. Goodnight,” Clytie teased, then hung up.

I scowled, but I really should have been trying to sleep.

What? Did Clytie think it was a lovers’ quarrel? Because it’s nothing like that. I’m not even sure Demetria’s ever thought about romance. Well, now I’m a little bit curious.

“Hey Demetria. Romance?” I inquired.

“Not tonight, busy,” she replied.

“No, not with me!”

“Wait, what were you asking?” She was clueless. Lost in her studies once again.

“Never mind. I’m going to try to sleep,” I dismissed.

“Good, doing the right thing for once,” she commented, all smug, too.

There were times when I thought she had an interest in me, what with how attached she was and she acted all disapproving with any relationship I was in and how she was always telling me to eat more, eat better, sleep better, study. But a quick thought made me realize that it was just her acting like a mom. Sure, I scoffed and rolled my eyes, but that must have been what it was the whole time. I wasn’t even sure if she was aware of it, herself.

As it so happened, the longer I went at things, trying to finish up my education, the more I thought about Demetria. It felt odd, and I wish I didn’t have to. It would have been much better to have moved on and accepted that I probably wouldn’t ever see her again. But there had to be some reason why she lingered on in my mind, right? It couldn’t have been coincidence.

I might have grown desperate for any sort of sign, I’ll admit, but I started to wonder if maybe Hecate was Demetria, but in disguise? It made no sense, yes, but like a conspiracy theorist, I started to hold onto the slightest of connections:

Short

Blonde hair

Weird

I’ll admit, that wasn’t much to go off of and could have applied to a great number of people and there were certain things that should have tipped me off that it wasn’t her. For example, I once tried to get her to open up about herself just a little more. Aside from the witch comments, she seemed really reserved and guarded.

“Hey Hecate, what do you study, anyway?” I asked.

“Chemistry,” she replied, buried under the covers of her bed.

“Really? I would’ve thought culinary arts, since your sou...potions.”

“Witches are already born with the knowledge to make potions, silly. But chemistry is a magic I’ve yet to master.”

“I see. So you have no interest in fish? Marine biology?”

“No. I don’t like water. Ever seen Wizard of Oz?”

Okay, that just seemed silly, but as long as she still drank water, I wouldn’t argue.

“So no interest in fish, then?” I tried to press further.

“I’ve already got a frog, isn’t that enough?” She asked in a pleading voice.

It was possible that she didn’t have interest in marine biology. I remember before she left, she had express losing interest in her studies, something which surprised me, and should’ve been a sign that she had changed. So maybe it wasn’t a stretch to think that she had changed her name, or found a new field of study. But just to be sure…

“How old are you, Hecate?”

“In this current life, I’m 19, but I’ve been older in past lives. Are there any more questions, because I’m having brain trouble and need to recover.”

“Oh. Sorry, sorry. I just thought maybe…” No, I shouldn’t say anything more. It’s not right. If Hecate was telling the truth, then she couldn’t have been Demetria, as if Demetria was still alive and out there somewhere, she would have been 24.

“What?” She asked. I should have known better than to say those four words. I should have stopped at ‘sorry, sorry.’

“I just thought...uh…maybe we met before?” I tried to keep things vague.

“Hm. I don’t know. Memory’s not good right now. How old are you?”

“23,” I answered.

“Okay. Then probably not.”

Hecate scrunched up her face and turned away, and I couldn’t tell whether I had bothered her, or if it was part of her condition. That really made me wonder, too: how did she get to and from class? For the life of me, I’ve never seen her leave the dorm. At least I knew with Demetria that she’d attend all her classes, even if her mind was preoccupied with whatever book she held in her hand.

There were other things I wondered, too, like why she wore that cloak around all the time. Was she hiding something? If I were to see her without the cloak, would it reveal something about her? It didn’t seem like she’d take it off if I asked her, and that would have been an odd request anyway, but I couldn’t help but wonder.

Despite my best efforts to put my suspicion to rest, it all culminated in one night, midway through the first semester: I had come home late, as I had further questions for my professor after the afternoon class ended, then I was hungry, so I got something to eat out at the town. By the time I got back, it was already close to dusk. All that to say, I was wiped.

Of course, I should have expected some sort of wacky activity to take place, seeing as it often happened, and that night was no exception. When I opened the door, I saw her with a large sheet of construction paper and letters and numbers written all over. She sat, head down, slumped, and I wondered if she was in some sort of trance.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Oh. Hey. I had to draw my own spirit board because my mom doesn’t want me having an ouija board. She’s very superstitious even though she already knows that I’m a witch, so any demons I end up in contact with I can just make them my familiar, or kill them, as I’m more powerful than them. Anyway, I can communicate with the dead.”

“Really now?” I raised an eyebrow, skeptical of the prospect.

“Yeah. Do you know anyone who died? I can talk to them,” she sounded elated at the idea, so much that I couldn’t help but indulge her.

“Well, I had a cat when I was little who died.”

“What was their name?”

“Zagreus,” I answered, though I had to think hard about that one. I wasn’t the one who named him and my parents never really explained their reasoning as to why or how they came up with that name.

“Humu, humu…” Hecate hummed, then started to lower her voice to a chant, “I call upon the spirit of Zagreus to use my body as a vessel as to communicate with Proserpina.”

A few seconds passed and she moved her hand around the paper, though rather than spelling out any words, she just went, “mew mew.”

Then she opened her eyes wide and looked up.

“That was all I was able to get out of him,” she explained, “I’ll be honest, most of the time I don’t know what cats are saying.”

Really, I didn’t know what else to expect.

“Zagreus is the son of Persephone, right?” Hecate asked.

I stood, stunned and unsure how to react.

“Probably. I don’t really know,” I replied. That was more something Demetria would have known. “How do you know that?”

She shrugged.

“Your cat told me.”

I wanted to call her out on how ridiculous that was, but before I could, I heard a knock at the door. I opened and in came three girls, all cheerful and laughing.

“Hey, nice to meet you! We’re Hecate’s friends,” one of them greeted, a girl in a striped T-shirt and beret and about my height. She looked like one of those people who would be hard to spot in a crowd.

“Yeah, nice to meet you,” I mumbled and was rather surprised to meet any friends of Hecate’s, let alone some who would come to see her.

“I hope she hasn’t given you too much trouble. I know she can be a handful sometimes,” another one of the girls mentioned, that one with short, blue hair, and braces.

“No, not really. We get along okay,” I replied, and I was still just a little speechless and, dare I say, a little nervous to boot. I really wasn’t expecting guests.

The third girl, one with red hair and two pigtails went up to Hecate. She wore glasses and looked rather thin and frail and seemed about as tall as Hecate. Much of her resembled Demetria, but her face seemed just a little too round and was just a little too pale to have been her.

“Here’s the notes I took for your class today,” she handed Hecate a sheet of paper and I watched as Hecate took it.

“What’s that for?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“I have trouble getting to my classes sometimes, so I often ask one of my friends to take notes for me. I always make sure to take classes that don’t grade based on attendance so it’s easier for me,” Hecate explained.

Oh. Because of the fatigue...jeez, I never realized.

“Here’s this, too,” the blue haired one handed Hecate a book. It could have been a textbook and innocent enough, but when I saw the title, my eyes lit up and my mind went into overdrive.

‘Bluefin Tuna and Other Creatures of the Deep’.

“No...no way…” I muttered.

“What? What’s wrong?” One of the other girls asked, but I didn’t take note of which one, because I was caught up in such a frenzy. In that moment, I was so sure that I was right.

“I knew it! You are Demetria! How long were you going to keep it from me? Huh?” I shouted. Everyone around me looked confused, but I was so sure.

“What are you talking about?” Hecate asked, but I didn’t want to play anymore games. I reached down and grabbed for her cloak.

“Hey! Leave me alone!” Hecate cried out as she squired. I pulled the hood down and sure enough, I saw: blonde twintails.

“Ha! You even have the same hairstyle as her! There’s no way it’s not you!”

Hecate grabbed for her hood and looked around in panic. She looked ready to break into tears.

“I’M NOT YOUR STUPID FRIEND!” She yelled, then pulled the hood back over her head.

She may not have always acted in a smart manner, but I refuse to let her be called stupid, I thought, and I balled my hand into a fist, ready to throw down.

“What’s wrong with you?” The striped shirt girl asked. “Are you a bully?”

I paused. I noticed my arm was pulled back and without even thinking I must have prepared myself.

“Yeah, what gives?” The blue haired girl joined in. “Those are her comfort clothes. Even if you wanted to see her with her hood down, you shouldn’t invade her personal space,” her arms crossed and she too looked cross.

“N-No...you guys don’t understand...I’m not…” I stammered. I really was awful, wasn’t I?

“C’mon, Maize, let’s go,” the blue and the striped girl left for the door, with the redhead in glasses left to follow after her.

After Maize left and slammed our door shut, I turned to Hecate, who had dived into the bottom bunk of the bed and buried herself there. I heard her sniffles and sobs.

Never mind that that’s my bunk for now, there was more important matters.

“Hey...I’m sorry,” I croaked out. Funny enough, her frog was nowhere to be found.

Not knowing what else to do, I sat on the edge of the bed and looked to my side.

“I know, that really wasn’t called for on my part. I jumped to conclusions, and to be honest, I’ve not been in a good headspace for a while. I shouldn’t have dragged you into that,” I sucked in my pride and admitted.

Hecate poked her head out from the covers and looked up at me.

“I’m sorry...too...for calling her stupid,” she muttered, her voice a weepy high.

“It’s okay,” I didn’t really find it okay, but I didn’t think she meant it out of malice, and it was just her retaliating against my actions.

“She must have meant a lot to you.”

“Yeah,” I sighed, “more than I thought she did. I miss her. A lot.”

“Did she die? Because if she did, you should have asked me to contact her instead of a cat. I have a much easier time talking to people than cats.”

I shook my head.

“No. Well, maybe. I don’t know. But I’d rather not think so.”

“What happened, then?”

“Well...it’s kind of funny,” I started laughing and noticed I had shed a couple of tears as well. I wiped my face before continuing, “I used to share this dorm with her, and before she left, she had been acting kinda strange.”

“Strange how?”

“I had spent the spring living with my boyfriend,” I explained, “and when I got back to university, it was like she made a radical change. She had a bunch of lesbian romance comics, and she talked about Sailor Moon a lot, and she’d get obsessed with a ‘Remora’. She was always obsessed with fish, but the fact that it was that one in particular was strange.”

“Why was that?”

“Because it was, like, all she talked about. Hell, it reminded me of a conversation we had once when she was reading an encyclopedia of fish and started laughing at one entry, which happened to be about the remora fish. She’d go ‘look at that thing! It’s ridiculous! It looks someone stepped on it and the bottom of the shoe left an imprint! Definitely wouldn’t be in my top 10 of favorite fish.’ Just for fun, I indulged her and asked what her favorites were, and she’d go, ‘Hmm...swordfish, definitely, then sharks. Probably angler fish, too. Piranhas have to be pretty high up there, too.’ So when she started talking about them all the time...yeah, it seemed off to me.”

“So that’s why you asked if I was into marine biology?” Hecate asked, and yeah, she figured it out.

“Yeah. Then when I saw you take that book…”

“I gave Grape some cash and asked her to buy it for me because I thought you were into that, so I wanted to know what made it interesting,” she explained.

Oh. To think someone would think of me.

“No, I’m studying agriculture. But thanks for the thought.”

“So she left?” Hecate continued where we left off.

“Yeah, and I didn’t hear anything from her for a few months, and her mom was really worried too. I admit, I jumped to worst case scenario and assumed she had been kidnapped. When her mom and I received a text from her saying that she got a job studying fish in the arctic, her mom was relieved, but I still had my doubts. So I texted her and told her that if she was in danger, I’d come get her. I was surprised when she answered, and it was definitely in her style, too. She denied such claims of kidnapping, but I couldn’t help myself, I was worried. She then said, ‘at least I didn’t leave my education to go live with some guy’, and I was pretty pissed at that remark...then, nothing.”

“So you had a fight? That’s it? Then she’s probably still alive, she probably just doesn’t want to talk to you anymore.”

“Yeah...I guess that’s a possibility…” Not one I wanted to entertain, but sure, “to be fair, I didn’t try to follow up and check in on her, and I don’t really know if she ever blocked me or not because I never tried to contact her after that.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I was hoping she’d say something first and then when she never did, I just forgot about it?”

“Well, in any case, I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. I think talking about it will help me move on easier. It’s hard because I used to have more friends, and now there’s no one. Sure, there’s my boyfr...actually, never mind, point is, I’d like to have a friend again.”

“Well...I can be your friend?” She perked up.

“Thanks. I’d like that,” I smiled.

So while it may have started as a bad evening, my night ended up being okay in the end. Since she already looked exhausted, I let Hecate sleep where she was at, and I climbed up to the top bunk. Somewhere in the room, her frog familiar croaked. Despite that, I imagined myself getting a restful sleep, and was hopeful that I could soon begin to concentrate more on my studies.

Things didn’t quite work out like that, though. Come graduation time and I was still short a few credits. All those months of trying to study, trying to focus, and most of my classes consisted of Cs and Ds.

No, it was pretty frustrating, actually. Like I sacrificed a good home, away from that shitty university, so I could focus and even then it was hard. But I persisted, I persisted and worked my butt off, and in spite of all that, I still couldn’t graduate on time. It was enough for me to throw in the towel, quit right then and there. I don’t really know why I didn’t.

So yes: come graduation day and there I was, not graduating. Nor would Hecate, but she was still fresh to the university life, so it made sense for her. Just hearing all those happy people cheering in the background pissed me off and I walked away from the campus and almost left the grounds, but chose instead to sit at a bench near the front of the campus. There, I stewed in my frustration.

To think I would get this far and still fall short. What’s even the point? How do I know that this is even what I still want to do? Such thoughts ran through my head and I did nothing to prevent them from running. Hell, they weren’t wrong, anyway, why should I stop when it’s the truth?

Behind me was a tall oak tree. Not very notable, I know. There was a bit of rustling in one of the limbs above me. Again, not at all notable.

“Those squirrels are probably fucking again,” I grumbled. Let’s ignore the fact that I said that out loud, yeah?

“No way. Could it be…?” I heard above me, a sort of incredulous, but quiet squeaky and high pitched voice. That was when I thought the same words.

No way. Could it be…?

I got up from the bench and took a few steps back, then looked up into the tree. While I couldn’t make out much, I could see, and quite distinct, too, someone laying on their back against the tree’s limb.

“Well, well,” they began, “hey Proserpina.”

“Demetria?” I asked, and gulped, afraid of being wrong.

She dragged her back along the limb, then sat up against the base of the tree. Indeed, it was her, and her hair wasn’t green like it had been the last time I saw her, but blonde again.

It really was her. My Demetria.

“Are you really here? I mean, is it really you? Are you alive?” Please don’t tell me I’m imagining this whole thing.

“Damn, don’t give me an existential crisis,” she replied, then turned her head and smiled. With one hand, she waved, but with the other, she tossed what looked to be a knife up into the air and caught it. Even though it was no doubt her, a part of me questioned who this ‘Demetria’ was, “but yeah. It’s me. Never thought I’d see you again, either.”

“But...why? Why are you here?” I demanded this time.

She continued tossing and catching the knife. In both hands were a pair of fingerless gloves. Her outfit was much different than the type of garb she wore when used to know her: her shirt was a black long sleeve, and it looked rather thin and form fitting. As if to match, she also had a black pair of short shorts, and they seemed to be nylon or spandex. In any case, it showed off her muscular legs, something which I never thought I’d see, considering she always looked kinda scrawny.

“I decided to finish what I started, so I took online classes. I just stopped by because to get my degree and didn’t expect to run into you. I thought you would have graduated by now.”

That really got to me, though I tried not to let it show.

“I took a bit of a break,” I told her. It wasn’t really a lie, “but yeah, I finished up too. I just took classes in person because online classes weren’t really working for me.”

What a fool I was for letting that slip. But to my credit, she didn’t notice.

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I really had to force myself to finish, and the worst part is, I stopped being interested in marine biology ages ago.”

How? How were you able to do it? How could you just force yourself, for something you weren’t interested in, no less, and you still came out on top? How? How does that work?

“I guess I get what she meant now,” it seemed like she was talking to herself rather than telling me anything, “having something be important without really caring about it.”

I really can’t say I understand.

“What happened with you, anyway?” That must have been the most pressing question. Hell, it should have been the FIRST question I asked.

“Aah,” she let out a sigh, “yeah, I guess I should come clean with that, huh? It sucks, but you deserve the truth, don’t you?”

“Well...I don’t know about deserve! But I’d like to know!” I cupped my hands and yelled to her.

“Yeah. Well, I’m sure you could guess, but: I lied to you.”

My heart skipped a beat, but pride took over.

“I knew it! You WERE kid –” She stopped me before I could finish.

“No. Maybe it would have been better if I was, because at least then it would have been far more understandable why I left. But no, the truth is, I developed a crush on a girl one day while you were away. So there, you were right: I’m gay. But I acted all wrong and my head was a mess. I was obsessed and you could have called me a stalker, if you wanted, because even though I had no idea where to find her, I wanted nothing more than to see her again and be with her.”

All that over a crush? Somehow I think the ‘got a job in the arctic’ angle was more believable...now that I think about it, she probably said that because of how more believable it was.

“Anyway,” she went on, “I saw her again one day, and decided to follow, you know, like a creep, and before I knew it, I was in the arctic. In order to stay there, I took a job at a local diner and lived there. Yes, not as dignified as a researcher.”

“Wait, so you weren’t lying about working in the arctic?” I stood, incredulous about what she told me.

“Yeah? Why’s that the thing you’re hung up about? What about the part where I stalked a poor woman? Isn’t that terrible?”

“Now that you mention it...that does seem out of character for you…” I gave it a good thought. Well, even the way I saw her now seemed out of character for her. It was hard to believe she’d change at all.

“Yeah, it surprised me too. It still does. I don’t really think I can justify that, to be honest.”

“So what happened then?”

“Well, I worked as a waitress to a near-empty diner. I got to know the diner owner and his wife, and this kid who lived there even started to grow on me a bit, despite not getting along with her at first.”

“What about the crush? What drew you to her?”

“I was getting to that. She seemed strong, confident, like she had things figured out and knew what she was doing. And she was blunt, like she just said whatever seemed to be on her mind. I admired her, or who I thought she was, but then, I think I admired those things because I wanted to be like that. Once I came to such a realization, I figured those silly feelings would fade and I’d move on and that thought scared me because I had already come so far, and it would have felt like a waste just to stop then. It was just like with marine biology. That shit was my life, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it anymore, and the thing was, it was like all I knew: I never allowed myself the chance to live.”

“That’s not how you seemed to me,” I was almost choked up to say, “yeah, you were dedicated to your studies, but to me it just seemed like you knew what you wanted. I kind of admired that.”

She laughed.

“Ha. I didn’t know what I wanted, it was just what I thought I wanted because I studied it for so long. I’m still not sure if I’m on the right track, or if I’ll ever be.”

“So did your feelings fade as you feared?” Part of me hoped so, as hurtful as it may have been.

“Sorta. The crush, yeah. Even before it did, I tried to do my best to ease up. I mean, I may not have known how to act, but I knew I should have done better, so I tried to make an effort. But you know what’s funny?”

“What?”

“As those feelings faded, as I seemed to have gotten better, well, her and I got closer. Or it seemed like we did. Turns out I was still just a little bit misguided. The last thing she told me was that she could never bring herself to care about me, and that’s when I realized how stupid I had been. I mean, I worried my mom, I worried you, I threw my life away, and for what? Because I wanted someone to care about me?”

Another hurtful thing she probably didn’t think she said.

“I cared about you,” I rushed to my own defense.

“Yeah, and so did my mom. Well, I guess it was bad, because I didn’t really think either of you did. I thought I had to lie so as not to disappoint my mom, and on the inside, I felt like a disappointment to both her and myself. With you, well, I guess I just never noticed, because I never really thought I mattered that much to you.”

“That’s not true,” I shook my head, “maybe I should have been more clear. To be honest, I thought you had a crush on me because of how attached you were. That’s why I suspected you were gay.”

“No, I never had a crush on you,” she stated, “I was so attached because I never really had a friend before you and I didn’t want to lose you. When you got with that Hades guy and started to spend so much time with him, I figured I was starting to lose you, and the worst part is, you seemed so happy to be in a relationship. Maybe part of that’s why I wanted to be in one myself, so I could see what all the fuss was about. I’m not sure.”

“Aw, Demetria. Romance was my thing, sure, but that doesn’t mean it had to be yours.”

“Eh. I guess. I’m not saying that’s what it was, but it could be what it was, y’know? Say, what about you? To be honest, I never liked that Hades guy, but are you still with him?” She probed. I wasn’t expecting her to ask anything about me.

I can’t tell her the truth. She expects me to be doing well. I mean, technically I am still with him, so would it even be a lie to say that I am?

“You know you can be a real asshole sometimes, right?” I deflected.

“Yeah, but I make it look cool,” she stopped tossing her knife to give me finger guns.

“No. You’re just a dork,” I denied, “but yes. We’re still together. In fact, I give him the strap.”

“The strap? What is that? Like, an accessory?”

“Uh...yeah, kinda,” I just about blushed. I really didn’t mean to say something like that.

“Would you like another one? I’ve got some money, I could probably get you one for your birthday. Hold on,” she pulled out her phone and I saw her type and mouth out the words, “give...her...the...strap.”

“What? What the hell is wrong with you?!” I shouted, but it was too late. She must have already seen something, as she fumbled and tossed her phone in shock, then she fell down from the tree, along with her knife.

“Demetria!” I cried out, but she raised a thumb up in the air, and with her other hand, she caught the falling knife.

“I’m okay…” She groaned, then added, “I see I still have more to learn.”

She stood up and brushed herself off.

“Well, good for you. I may not like the guy, but...I don’t really know him, and if you’re happy, then I’m happy for you,” she concluded.

“Thanks,” I replied, though I felt a tinge of melancholy.

She shrugged it off.

“So yeah. That’s me: I’m gay and something of a disaster. I’m also single so I guess you can say I’m ‘on the market’ and I can always find someone else, and if the opportunity arises, I’ll know to act better.”

Her smile persisted, but I noticed tears forming her eyes.

“But also, I don’t want anyone else. Try as I might to deny it, but I still have feelings for her, and I still think of her, but the thing is, I don’t even think I’d want to see her again. She’s fine, and maybe I’m fine, but I just don’t want to devote my time to someone who won’t care about me. It hurts too much for me to do that,” she shook her head and the tears came harder and she wiped her face.

“Sorry, it’s not so dignified of me...but I’ve never been one to do things with dignity,” she laughed, though was choked up with tears. “But you know what’s the worst part? I also care about that family in the arctic. I want to see them again, I want to tell them how much I’ve grown, if I’ve even grown at all. So I’ve resolved to do just that: I’m going to go back there, for them, and for myself, and I may not look the same way that they remember me, but I hope they still accept me.”

“I don’t know what to say,” I wanted to give her a hug, but I wasn’t even sure if she’d want that, “I hope things work out. Just know that now that I’ve seen you once, I’m going to want to see you again.”

She nodded.

“It may be a while before I can do that, but I’d like that as well. Is it fair to assume that we’re friends?”

That time, I started to cry and I reached out to hug her.

“Of course!” I wailed. She reached out and wrapped her arms around me and it was so tight that I was worried she’d squeeze the lights out of me.

“Jeez, when did you get so strong?” I wheezed.

“I’m not as strong as I look, trust me,” she replied.

“It doesn’t seem that way,” I rebutted. “It’s like you’ve changed so much, in so many ways.”

“Maybe you’re right, but it’s just like you said, I’m still a dork,” she chuckled, then let go, “anyway, I think I should take off. Got big plans and all. I hope we can talk again, though!” She began to run off and I called after her.

“Stay safe out there!”

“No promises, but I’ll do my best!” She called back. Before long, she had disappeared out of sight.

After she left, despite what an emotional wreck I was, at the same time I felt just a little more hopeful about the future. That no matter how difficult, I may figure something out as well. Or at least, I could hope. In any case, I knew I had a story to tell Hecate once I got back up to my dorm.

#remoras full #writing #chapter #story #melancholy #drama #comedy #witches #nostalgia #friendship #college #hecate #persephone

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