#if only so i could force dark into th sunlight of being known by other ppl and then he

[dnangelic]

further proof that dark is a vampire he reminds me me of this guy right here. sorry if u don't know him. it clicked in my brain and now i cant stop thinking abt it

WYM FURTHER PROOF HE LITERALLY HAS A VAMPIRE DRAMA CD SERIES. HE'S A VAMPIRE BUT ONLY SOMETIMES AND SO IS DAISUKE

[petri808]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Inukag *warning this chapter might hurt*

Staring out through the windshield of his car, his darkened home was the picture-perfect mirror of the pain settling into his soul. Inuyasha had no idea how he’d even managed to make it home without driving off a cliff or plowing himself into a stone wall, because his body and mind were completely numb.

‘Read’ but not answered…

Was it a good sign that the woman at least looked at it? Inuyasha rested his head against the steering wheel and closed his eyes. He’d fucked up… again— just like the night of the accident. His eyes squeezed tighter shut as the emotional pain of everything slammed him with the force of a freight train. This was bad… bad, bad, bad… “FUCK!!” He roared into the still night air. With Kagome’s memories coming back, she’ll remember everything, and it was over. He’d had this second chance to reverse all the damage and he went and fucked it up again.

Not surprisingly, Kagome didn’t respond to his first text, so he typed out a final message for the night: ‘You’re mad at me. I get that so I’ll give you some space but I just wanna say good night Kagome. I love you -Inu’

‘Read’ but not answered…

It was all he could do for now, his only solace knowing Kagome had her mother to comfort her. Inuyasha sighed, long and deep as he pulled the keys from the ignition and dragged himself into his home. His body felt heavy with exhaustion. A weight crushing him down like a boulder. It took all he had to just drop his keys to the floor beside the entrance and shuffle into the bedroom instead of falling right then and there. He didn’t want to move anymore. He deserved the silent darkness of this tomb-like home along with its judgmental echoes of the life it once held.

The next morning after a restless sleep, Inuyasha called out of work. When would he be back, he couldn’t answer them? Part of him didn’t care anymore. Fire him, it wouldn’t matter to the walking dead. Miroku called in concern for his friend, but Inuyasha let it go to voicemail. He didn’t feel like talking to anybody right now, not when he knew it would have a ring of ‘I told you so,’ mixed in. That wasn’t necessary. Didn’t he feel bad enough?

A good morning text sent… left on Read…

An apology text….

Another apology text…

Voice messages left randomly through the day…

All left on Read and unanswered.

The anxiety filled hours ticked on with Inuyasha left curled up in a ball under his blanket. He’d done a number on his living room to physically release the anger he felt at himself, and now he was just dead to the world. All the drapes were tightly closed to the sunlight outside and he only left his bed to attend to bathroom matters. He didn’t wanna give up all hope, but with his mind in tatters and thoughts only of despair, there was nothing left to cling to.

By nightfall Inuyasha was convinced Kagome had truly given him up and he couldn’t blame her for it. This was all his fault. Him and his stupid big mouth. There was no denying it. He shouldn’t have argued with her. Just like before, instead of using his ears to listen, he responded with ego when he had no right to chastise her over not telling him something. The whole reason he was in this mess is because he never listened to her when it mattered the most— and there in lay the heart of it all. Neither of them had the opportunity to talk about what caused the original fight or process what drove Kagome to leave. Inuyasha thought he’d understood its origins and accepted responsibility for it, but clearly, he was wrong, and this new situation is most certainly what would have taken place if Kagome hadn’t crashed her car— a debilitating depression.

If Kagome didn’t want him anymore, then there wasn’t anything left for him in this world as far as Inuyasha was concerned. His yoki called out for her, wept for her loss, and with it all the energy in his soul to care slipped away. He was simply empty without her. No appetite or desire or thirst, just an ocean of dread, and waves of numbness dulling all his senses.

How much time had elapsed, how many days gone by? The clock ticked away hour by hour like a death knell with Inuyasha simply waiting for a release to come. All the messages left on his phone were from everyone other than the one person who could have brought him out of this funk. But her ringtone never came. It is what is it. Was it day four? Five? Six? Inuyasha couldn’t tell, but feeling his body starting to let go, he decided to send one last message to Miroku before shutting off the phone for good.

At the Hoshii residence, Miroku and Sango were on edge dealing with the crisis. Sango had been doing her best to help Kagome to cope with her pain, but Miroku was growing frantic over Inuyasha’s refusal to answer him. He’d driven by the man’s home and knew the car was there, and that was it. No one answered the door and with all the curtains closed he couldn’t see inside. Finally, on day five while they were visiting with Kagome, Miroku heard his phone ping with a message.

Inuyasha: thanks for being a good friend. Tell her she was the only one I’ve ever loved

“What the hell?” Miroku blurted out as he mulled the message over and over in his head.

Sango rushed over at the concern in her husband’s voice. “What is it?!”

“I think that idiot is planning to kill himself— I better… I better go.”

Hearing the commotion, Mrs. Higurashi also came out of the kitchen. “What’s going on?”

“It’s about a message Inuyasha just sent,” Sango explained as her husband was digging around in his small pouch and grabbing his car keys. “Miroku is gonna check on him.”

“What did it say?” Mrs. Higurashi questioned.

So, Miroku showed the woman his phone. “It doesn’t sound good.”

“Oh, dear!” She reached for a jacket near the front door. “I’m coming too! Sango will you stay?”

“Of course, I’ll be here with Kagome. You two go.”

It was a good thing that Miroku had held onto a spare key to Inuyasha’s home that he’d been given and simply forgotten to return. When he and Mrs. Higurashi walked through the door, chills crawled over his skin. It was evident that the house had been closed-up for several days, no windows opened, or ventilation, just a silent graveyard feeling with a fog of musty air mixed with the scent of rotting kitchen garbage and body odor. It was revolting and only heightened the pairs concern for the occupant.

“Inuyasha?!” Miroku yelled as they made their way through the dark home but received no response. The man wasn’t in the living areas or bathroom, so the logical option was the master bedroom at the far end of the hallway. ‘Please be alive,’ he prayed.

Once inside the room, they could see an unmoving body underneath the blankets and if the buildup of body odor told a story, it was sure to be his friend underneath those covers. “Inu?” Still no response.

Mrs. Higurashi turned on the bedroom light, and the brightness finally caused the blanket to shift ever so slightly. “Oh, thank heavens,” she gasped out in relief as she held a hand to her chest. He was still alive.

Miroku rushed over and yanked the blanket off. “Inuyasha!” Tears instantly gathered in the panicked man’s eyes. The state of his friend was heart breaking. Inuyasha had lost weight. His skin was gaunt and pasty white, hair matted and dirty. “Oh, fuck, we— we should call emergency!”

“No…” Inuyasha croaked out and buried his face deeper under his arm. “Let me die.”

“Fuck no, you idiot! Kagome still needs you!”

“Better… off… without me…”

‘Seriously?!’ It was rare for Miroku to get so upset, but in that moment, the anger that bubbled up to surface took over and his arm flew up ready to strike his friend. “You stupid—!!”

“Don’t!” Mrs. Higurashi yelled at Miroku. “He needs help, not anger right now.”

That seemed to snap Miroku out of his emotions, but the tears broke free. It was hard to see his friend in this position, just so frail— nothing like the tough hanyo that he’s known for years. Even after the death of his mother, Inuyasha didn’t break down this badly. Miroku grit his teeth to his own pain and pushed forward. “You idiot. Dying isn’t gonna help Kagome. So, whether you like it or not, we’re gonna help you.”

Mrs. Higurashi now moved around the bed to where she could sit beside Inuyasha. Her own eyes were clouded too, but the woman pulled on all the strength she could muster to hold it together. She placed a hand on the arm he was using to cover his face. “Inu, Miroku is right. Kagome is hurting just as much as you, and I don’t think you’d want to cause her anymore heart ache by going out this way.”

“But she hates me…” Inuyasha whimpered weakly. “Please just let me go.”

Mrs. Higurashi had to squeeze her eyes shut to hold back her tears. Her heart broke for the man. Gently, she pulled his arm down, her voice shaking as she spoke. “Inuyasha, you’re like a son to me, and I won’t let me son die. We’re gonna figure this out, but you need to live please, for her, for all of us that cares about you.”

Inuyasha’s eyes cracked open just a tad. “I’m so, sorry,” he mumbled. “So… sorry…”

She kept her voice as soothing as possible. “I know, and so does Kagome.” Mrs. Higurashi then turned to Miroku. “Do you think you can get him into the shower and clean him up? I’ll make something for him to eat. He needs something in his stomach immediately.”

“Y-Yeah, I think I can do it.”

It took both of them to help Inuyasha into the bathtub. He was so emaciated and dehydrated, that he had no strength left in his body, just dead weight. While Mrs. Higurashi left them to deal with the kitchen, Miroku stripped his friend of clothing and ran a bath to bathe him. Inuyasha offered no resistance, just a few tears flowing down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” Inuyasha kept repeating.

“Don’t apologize to me. Save it for Kagome. I can’t believe you’d think we’d be okay with you dying! You’re my best fucking friend you asshole! I want my kids to grow up with their uncle!”

“But I keep screwing up.”

“And that’s life. It ain’t the end of the world yet.”

“Feels like it.”

“Whether you believe us if not, Kagome is hurting cause she in love with your stupid ass too. You can still fix this.”

“Don’t know how.”

“And that’s why we’re here.”

“Thank you…”

Inuyasha’s eyes started to roll back, so Miroku slapped him hard in the face. “Oi! Don’t you be dying on me now! So, wake the fuck up!”

“So… tired…”

“Gonna clean you up and momma Higurashi will get your strength back, so hang on just a little longer…”

Now cleaned up and dressed in something comfortable, they prop Inuyasha up in a recliner since he was still struggling to hold up his own body weight. He simply had no reserves left to draw from and under human standards wouldn’t have lasted this long. A hospital was better equipped to deal with this kind of situation. Inuyasha should have been put on IV fluids to hydrate him faster along with special supplements pumped directly into his system because after this long, the organs would have started to shut down, and his stomach would struggle to process anything. But Mrs. Higurashi made due to honor his request, starting with a bland rice water chicken broth of starch, proteins, and vegetable nutrients to re-prime it slowly. She also sent Miroku to the store to purchase drinks with electrolytes given to infants when they are dehydrated. It was a painstaking process to feed Inuyasha spoonful by spoonful.

“I need you to help me fight Inuyasha,” the woman coaxed the weakened hanyo. “So, you can live through this and see Kagome again.”

Tears flooded Inuyasha’s eyes at the mention of Kagome’s name. “After everything, why would you still want me around her?”

“Because you love her, and she loves you, and as long as there’s love it can find a way. Son,” she placed a hand on his, “I know it feels like the end of the world, but it will get better if you want it to. Do you want it to?”

“Yes,” he sobbed.

Her hand now gripped his tightly as her expression grew determined. “Then fight for it!”

It took several bowls of soup before gradually Mrs. Higurashi started giving Inuyasha fish and small pieces of chicken meat to eat. She had to stick to easily digestible foods, but at least his coloring was improving, and he could feed himself now. The sun has already set, by the time Inuyasha could finally stand up on his own.

“You’re lucky you’re a hanyo. That’s what’s probably saved your life.” Miroku expressed to his friend.

“I know.” Inuyasha could feel his demon half working harder to regenerate his physical body. Though while his body was recovering, his heart still felt broken. They kept telling him that Kagome still loved him so there is hope, but a part of him struggled to believe it. He’d already hit such a low point, to suffer rejection now was almost too unbearable to even comprehend.

Miroku continued talking. “Inuyasha, you’re not gonna do this alone. We will be there to support both of you, but it’s time you confront this. You and Kagome need to talk… about everything— even though she may not remember, a lack of communication is exactly what triggered this whole situation.”

“I know…” Inuyasha sighed.

“All couples go through struggles,” Mrs. Higurashi added with a comforting tone in her voice. “A strong relationship doesn’t come from a having a perfect one, Inuyasha. It’s developed through adversity. How well a couple can take the challenges thrown at them and grow from it.”

“You remember what happened with me and Sango, we almost didn’t make it because of my bad behaviors…”

“Your damn womanizing,” Inuyasha cut in.

“Yeah, that,” Miroku grumpily agreed. “She had to give me a harsh ultimatum to wake me up. But I did, and now look at us. This is your harsh moment, and you can choose to wake up, or loose the best thing that’s ever happened to you. It’s your choice.”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Inuyasha ran a hand down his face. “Of course, I don’t wanna lose her.”

“Then are you ready to see Kagome?” Mrs. Higurashi questioned.

Inuyasha exhaled slowly. “Ready? No…” he was terrified to face the woman. “But I’ve gotta do it.”

[painless-innit-colourful]

‘Come Home’

A TommyInnit & Clingyduo Fic ahead of the final showdown tomorrow - spoilers for today’s (19th) Tommy stream.

tw for events of Exile Arc (skippable if you miss out the entire middle section of the fic, marked by three dashes on their own separate line)

The rush, the high. He’s been chasing this feeling since forever. It’s not a perfect replacement for the real thing, which he hasn’t felt in such a long time. It’s not a fluttering but an explosion, not the strumming of the guitar but the crash of the drums, not the rain but the thunder and lightning, though even that’s become fraught for him recently. He remembers the last time, a wonderful five minutes sandwiched by pain and chaos and destruction. His best friend standing on a stage, new leader of L’Manberg. A fresh start, the promise of peace and prosperity for all around them. But then it was all over, all brought down so quickly. The Tommy that cheered at his best friend’s inauguration is unrecognisable now.

But Tubbo is not, and between the scars and the new outfit and all the words, both spoken and unsaid, it’s still them. Tommy tastes the potion they’ve just made and hears his best friend’s laughter, and if he closes his eyes, he can pretend for a few fleeting seconds that nothing has changed at all. If he opens his eyes, he’ll be back in the camarvan, and Wilbur will walk in through the door with more blaze rods and laugh at the two of them and ruffle his hair. The discs will be in his ender chest if he wants to listen to one with Tubbo. There’s a lake outside the door and a forest and a whole wide world to explore, and Tommy’s only worry is that Punz will yell at him if he sees him for having a ‘Fortnite build battle on his front lawn’ a little while ago. He opens his eyes and then takes another swig of potion to dampen his disappointment.

“Aye careful,” Tommy’s vaguely aware of Tubbo pulling the bottle away from his face before he accidentally upends it on himself. “Don’t want you looking like Sapnap earlier.” Tubbo’s grin is brighter than the sun on snow. “I have no idea what was happening with Cracknap other than he still needs help.” Tubbo’s laughter is soft, “He’s not the only one anymore.”

“Too shay.”

They drift upstairs, and then eventually out the door. It’s around 3 o’clock in the afternoon, and there are clouds drifting on the edge of the horizon. They’re dark and heavy-looking, but for now too far away to block the pale winter sunlight keeping the outside temperature a stubborn 10 degrees C. “I should go back to Snowchester.” Tubbo looks restless as they step onto the Prime Path. Tommy knows the feeling. Suddenly tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

“You’ll come back though, right? Tonight, one last ride?” They embrace, squeezing tightly as Tubbo hums an agreement. “Of course. One last ride.” And then they withdraw, and Tubbo gives a small wave as he disappears down the hill towards his highway, and Tommy watches him go. And when he finally looks up, alone with his thoughts once more, he realises he is leaning on the back of his bench; here again, always retreading the same ground. He briefly entertains the idea of putting on a disc and staying a little while, but he doesn’t have any music to live up to the occasion. Not Far, nor Pigstep or Wait, and he still hasn’t sorted out his complicated feelings over his version of Blocks. Besides, he still has things to sort out before the showdown. He walks away to prepare, humming Mellohi lightly as he goes.

---

‘Home’ is a fraught word for Tommy now. Every home the boy has had in this land is either steeped in blood and bad memories, or blown to bits beyond repair. Somedays Tommy wakes up alone and forgets that L’Manberg was wiped off the map, and it comes as a nasty shock when he rounds the corner by his home to see a crater that stretches all the way down to bedrock. Pogtopia never really felt like home, but it was bad enough when it was only soulless stone walls and bashing your head on the lanterns hanging from the ceiling that its inhabitants and visitors had to contend with. After the Manberg Festival, there was an entire room in there that’s sole purpose was to remind Tommy that he didn’t save his friend and couldn’t have if he’d tried, dried blood on the walls and all. Then there's the fact that it’s practically server tradition at this point: if you want to send TommyInnit a message, leave it on signs in his house. Don’t forget to blow up the house first though! Tommy forgets how many times he’s had to put his abode back together; probably about as many times as he’s had to reconstruct himself.

That leaves Logstedshire. Sometimes he agrees with himself that that place doesn’t deserve to be considered a home of his. He sure as hell didn’t want to live there, barely survived his stay, and the place is mostly blown up, the awful icing on the dreadful cake that was his second exile from L’Manberg. He supposes it could be considered weird that he finds himself stepping down a path he never wanted to walk again, but today… Today is about closure. And if he can look Technoblade in the eyes with a belt-full of potions stolen from his chests, he’s brave enough to face his fears in Logsted. As he arrives at the portal, he hesitates, his gaze drifting away from the swirling purple and to the bubbling orange, much further below. So many times has he been here, only then his mind was a much worse thing to own, a clouded mass of hateful thoughts, most of them not his own. Where the bridge meets thin air there are patches of a shimmering wind where the heat takes the place of the nothingness, and if he squints Tommy can imagine himself standing on the edge, wondering what would happen if he'd just let go. He’s glad now that he was in the Overworld when he made the pillar, even if it seemed like he had nowhere to go.

Logstedshire is haunted, even more so than the Nether path. It’s exactly how Tommy remembers it: the broken Nether portal missing a single piece of obsidian, the craters untouched, the pillar still stretching skyward. He can see himself again; on the beach, repairing the chests, standing at the top of the tower. It’s like being in a haunted house where all the ghosts are yourself. But Tommy isn’t afraid. The ‘Drista’ sign makes him laugh, the ocean where he’d wake up drowning (trying to make it home to where? A country that no longer exists) gets a small wave, even the pillar gets a smile, because he’s here to look at it from the ground. It was a bad time in his life - possibly the worst -  but he made it out the other side. And that’s what matters.

There are some craters though, some specific memories that Tommy can’t face yet. The smiling mask of the green man, snatching items out of Tommy’s hands to then force him to watch as he blew them to bits. How he specifically said “I want you to watch.” when he blew up everything Tommy and Ghostbur had managed to scrape together for themselves out there alone. The two-by-two hole in the centre of the largest crater, and how just glancing at it summons Dream’s voice to his mind, taunting him as he grabbed him by the front of his already ripped shirt and hoisted him over the short drop, “Why don’t you get in the hole, Tommy?”

Those still sting. There’s a reason, he supposes, why Wilbur went mad after losing L’Manberg. Why he asked Philza to kill him instead of facing the wreckage all around. But Tommy refuses to be just another repeat of history. Tommy looks into the pit made by Dream’s TNT where scraps of happiness were burned, and he spits at it.

No more.

TommyInnit heads home.

---

Hours pass. Tubbo returns from Snowchester soaked through to the skin but smiling. Tommy helps him peel off several layers of frozen clothing (he decides not to ask in regards to the hazmat suit), finding out that the nukes project is going well but they are presented with the usual issues of living in a frozen tundra: cold.

After Tubbo’s showered and changed, they share a dinner giggling about really dumb topics like Tommy pulling a fast one on Technoblade, Jack Manifold being weird and unhelpful again, and good old GeorgeNotFound. The hours fly by, and it's much later that they’re getting ready for bed when the heavens finally open, and the sound of a heavy downpour seeps in through the cracks of Tommy’s dirt house. Tommy can feel the smile crossing his face until he remembers his house is a dirt shack at present, and mud houses aren’t generally known for being the most watertight. Tubbo gets a good laugh out of his expression when he comes bustling down the stairs dragging his bed behind him, crying out, “Our clothes! Beds! Tubbo-” Their plans changed and they put their beds in the storage room, the room voted Least Likely To Have a Leak by a grand majority of two. The sound of the rain is somehow less muffled down there, and it clatters against the ceiling almost melodically.

Tommy picks up the crossbow from the pile of clothes and other bits and bobs he grabbed from upstairs when the downpour started. ‘Chekhov's Gun’. Wilbur’s gun. As in, actual Alivebur’s weapon, from before he blew up L’Manberg. It feels heavy in his hands. Too heavy. Wilbur’s voice echoes through his head, not the usual line he hears in his nightmares, but similar. 

“You’re never going to be president, Tommy.”

It doesn’t hurt anymore. Wilbur gave him that choice, and he declined. He wonders, with a certain detachment, how it all would’ve turned out if he’d chosen to take the presidency. He certainly wouldn’t have exiled Tubbo.

Tubbo, who’s looking at him with a lopsided grin, standing by his bed and holding his covers aloft, one leg already in bed. It seems like an invitation. “You alright?” Tommy nods and sets down the crossbow and clothes on top of one of the chests, “Yeah… Goodnight Tubs.”

“Goodnight Tommy.”

In the split second before either of them can commit to getting into bed, Tommy hears Wilbur again. This time though, he doesn’t mock him, nor does he sound too far gone to be saved. This iteration of Wilbur Soot wears a captain’s hat instead of a beanie, and speaks with soft conviction, and puts his hands on Tommy’s shoulders like he can shield the teen from the choice that he’s made.

“I want you to do whatever your heart says you should do.”

“Tubbo wait,” Tommy catches his best friend by the arm. Two pairs of blue eyes meet briefly as Tommy pulls him into a hug, putting one hand on the back of Tubbo’s head and messing with the hairs at the nape of his neck. Tubbo’s surprise doesn’t last long, and he hugs back, burying his face in Tommy’s shoulder and balling Tommy’s shirt into his fists. Tommy breathes a deep sigh, trying to make the moment last, but knowing no one lives forever. Eventually they split, and Tommy ruffles Tubbo’s hair as they grin at each other with tired eyes and heavy limbs. “Okay, goodnight Tubbo.”

The older boy in question takes two steps back and sits down on his bed, shuffling back quickly and holding the covers open, smiling invitingly. “Tommy,” His voice sounds like honey, so sickly-sweet it shouldn’t be nice, but is. There’s also a heavy undertone of teasing going on to start with, but it becomes more genuine suddenly. “Come home.” And Tommy understands and climbs in beside him, and they tease each other for being clingy and sappy as they try to get comfortable, and then they quiet to the odd remark as they find the right place, Tubbo’s head resting on Tommy’s collarbone, their arms wrapped around each other and Tommy’s head leaning on Tubbo’s. Tubbo drops off first, and Tommy is waiting in the noisy quiet for sleep to claim him too, listening to the rain pattering on the roof and his friend’s breathing beside him. And in the quiet, he realises a couple things.

He realises he rather likes the rain without the thunder, and that maybe the guitar is better than the drums, and that the fluttering in his chest is more uplifting than the explosion of a vibrant heart. It’s not the triumphant high he’s been chasing. It’s quieter, it’s comforting, it’s a warm feeling in his whole being. It’s just as good as the victorious moment. It’s perfect.

The second thing he realises is that he’s been wrong since the beginning. Home was never Logstedshire or Pogtopia, but neither was it L’Manberg or even the building they’re currently in. Home was the togetherness L’Manberg brought, sitting around a campfire singing the national anthem and putting more effort into the ‘fuck Eret’ part every time it came around. Home was listening to Wilbur’s guitar echoing through the caverns at Pogtopia and complaining about eating Technoblade’s potato stew for the third day running while your comrades laughed. Home is right here, wrapped in the arms of your favourite person, belly full of good food, listening to the rain as sleep slowly takes you. He sees that now.

TommyInnit is home.

[memxntomxri]

𝒫𝑜𝓅𝓅𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒫𝑒𝑜𝓃𝒾𝑒𝓈

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ʜᴏᴍᴇ

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 - past!sawamura daichi x sugawara koushi, sawamura daichi x kuroo tetsurou

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 - angst

𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤 - and now, in the aftermath, all koushi can smell is poppies and peonies, drowning him in their scent

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 - 2.1k

𝘵𝘸 - major character de@th, implied h0mophobia, hanahaki disease, no happy ending, break-up, sam misusing taylor swift songs, so much angst

𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴 - this is the result of a lot of inspiration screaming in a Discord server. thanks emmy (Noisy_Emmy on ao3), lou (LouEve_094 on ao3) and lena 🤍 also like alskejfljlvkjlkwejkj taylor and daisuga angst together???

also daichi is horrible here but he isn't actually like that istg. i just needed him to be asshole-ish for maximum angst purposes. the timeline's also weird af but i gave up halfway through trying to make it logical lol.

song lyrics credit to august by our queen taylor swift!

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

salt air and the rust on your door

I never needed anything more

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Looking back, Koushi should have seen the signs.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

When they met in first year, the first thing that Koushi had noticed had been Daichi's warm smile. It was reassuring and steadfast, like someone reaching out and telling Koushi "I'm here." And when they stood together on court, Koushi felt invincible, because Daichi was there, a silent pillar that pushed him up, up, upwards.

It was all too easy to fall. Daichi was reassuring, always there, attractive, kind, and before Koushi knew it, he was in love.

He kept it to himself at first, of course. Koushi didn't even know if Daichi swung his way. And, well, he was just... scared. Scared to lose the friendship they had built. Scared to lose their dynamic on the court. Scared to, ultimately, lose Daichi.

whispers of "are you sure?"

"never have i ever before"

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Looking back, Koushi should have never dived off that cliff.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

During summer break in their third year, after they had beat Shiratorizawa and were preparing to go to Nationals, Koushi dropped by Daichi's house often. It was natural, of course. They were "best friends", after all, even though one was hopelessly in love with the other.

Longing stares became lingering touches became staying over became-

"I really like you, Daichi."

"Mmhm."

A soft, tentative kiss.

"Are you sure about this, Suga?"

"Yes, Daichi. Stop being such a worrywart."

Foreheads pressed together.

"I'm sure about you."

Soft, soft enough that Koushi's ears don't pick up on it, "But I'm not sure about you."

but I can see us lost in the memory

august slipped away into a moment in time

'cause it was never mine

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Looking back, Koushi should have let go.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

They were happy together. It was like being best friends, but with kisses and cuddles and more. Koushi didn't know when he had ever been this happy. The memories were like gilded gold to him, things he never wanted to let go of. He was giddy every time he remembered that Daichi's soft smiles, fond in their demeanor, were for him.

Even if his eyes were a little distant at times.

and I can see us twisted in bedsheets

august sipped away like a bottle of wine

'cause you were never mine

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Looking back, Koushi should have known better.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

One night, when they were curled up together in Daichi's bedroom, AC whirring and a few cans of cheap beer left forgotten and discarded by Daichi's bed, sated and content, Koushi's tongue slipped.

"I love you, Daichi."

A sleepy murmur.

He didn't feel the man against his back stiffening.

"O-Oh, okay, Suga."

Even after all that they had done, he was still Suga, never Koushi.

Daichi was probably just shy.

If he had known that this would be the beginning of the end, Koushi would have never let himself be so careless.

your back, beneath the sun

wishing I could write my name on it

will you call when you’re back at school?

I remember thinking I had you

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Looking back, Koushi should have been more careful.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

When they returned to school, Daichi acted like everything was like it had been before summer break. Koushi was confused, but it was surely only Daichi trying to protect them. They still lived in the Japanese countryside, after all.

And it wasn’t as if Daichi stopped seeing him or anything! It was just… less time together. But they were third years trying to win Nationals, it was natural for this to happen.

but I can see us lost in the memory

august slipped away into a moment in time

‘cause it was never mine

and I can see us twisted in bedsheets

august sipped away like a bottle of wine

‘cause you were never mine

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Looking back, Koushi should have stood up for himself.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Quick makeout sessions in the clubroom, some heavy petting, a brush of pinkies against each other in the hallway - that was all that Koushi had left of the Daichi he had known in the summer.

A soft smile.

Undivided attention.

A warm embrace.

Oh, how he longed for them now.

back when we were still changing for the better

wanting was enough

for me it was enough

to live for the hope of it all

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Looking back, Koushi should have run.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Daichi was pulling away, but Koushi convinced himself that he wasn't. Sure, in the deepest, darkest parts of him, he knew that he was losing the dark-haired man, but Koushi forced himself to stay in the moment. Daichi was probably just stressed out from studying and the responsibility of being a captain, right?

After all, Koushi loved Daichi, and Daichi… well, even if Daichi didn’t exactly love him yet, he still cared for him. Deeply.

Right?

cancel plans just in case you’d call

and say “meet me behind the mall”

so much for summer love and saying “us”

‘cause you weren’t mine to lose

you weren’t mine to lose

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Looking back, Koushi should have seen the warning signs.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Koushi sat on the bench, fingers anxiously drumming on his thigh. He was in the park behind the mall they went to every Saturday together to get food and window shop. (Well, Koushi shopped, Daichi gave opinions.) Where was Daichi? Koushi had flaked on a family outing with his cousins who were visiting from Kanto so that they could spend time together, but Daichi was nowhere to be found.

Koushi checked his phone again. It was already 1PM, and his last sent text, left on read at 11:30AM, glared back at him.

Slowly, Koushi picked himself up from his seat. It was fine, something had probably just come up.

Three hours later, his phone pinged. Koushi lunged for the device, nearly knocking his desk lamp over.

Daichi 💗: hey suga, sorry for not making it.

No explanation, just a halfhearted apology.

Koushi set his phone back down.

but I can see us lost in the memory

august slipped away into a moment in time

‘cause it was never mine

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Looking back, Koushi should have never left his house that day.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Koushi skipped up Daichi’s driveway, intent on spending some time with him that afternoon. He knocked twice, face lighting up when Daichi opened the door, looking adorable in his casual clothes.

“O-oh, uh, Suga - what do you need?” He seemed nervous.

Koushi frowned. “Daichi, I sent you a text half an hour ago saying I was coming over. Did you not get it?”

“Oh, yeah - I-” Daichi mumbled.

Someone came up behind him, slinging an arm over his shoulders. It was the rooster-headed captain from Nekoma. Koushi’s frown deepened. Why was he here and why was he touching Daichi like that?

“Oh! Vice captain-san! Daichi didn’t mention you would be coming over!” he greeted.

Koushi’s heart stuttered. Of course. It all made sense. The stares that went on for a little too long, the lingering handshakes, the too-friendly competition. The only thing he was still confused about was where he fit into the entire thing. He bowed stiffly. “Kuroo-san. Um, Daichi…” he turned to him. “Can I talk with you for a bit?”

Daichi nodded, and he turned to Kuroo. “Just keep playing the movie, I’ll be back soon.”

He followed Koushi down the road, silence falling between the two who had always had something to laugh about together.

Koushi licked his lips nervously. “D-Did we ever mean anything?” he asked softly.

Daichi sighed. “We never were something, Suga.”

“W-what?” Koushi couldn’t find it himself to say anything else.

Daichi exhaled, long and low. “Suga, we were a fun distraction,” hairline fractures in his heart, “for a bit, but it was never something serious.”

Chips began flaking off.

“B-but I love you!” Emphatic and frantic, trying to make Daichi understand.

Another sigh, this one a little frustrated. “I don’t know what this is, but it isn’t love, Suga. You need to open your eyes.”

Koushi stopped in the middle of the road.

“So this is it, huh?” he said, his heart finally breaking into shattered fragments.

“Yeah. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” and with that, Daichi walked away.

The flowers came that night, red and pink, like the blood that stained them.

and I can see us twisted in bedsheets

august sipped away like a bottle of wine

‘cause you were never mine

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Looking back, Koushi should have guarded his heart better.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Koushi deteriorated fast.

Within a week, he could no longer play volleyball.

Within two, his mother had found out.

Within two and a half, he had refused the surgery, a legal adult now.

Koushi would not lose his ability to love, even if it killed him.

Within a month, he was in the hospital.

but do you remember?

remember when I pulled up and said "get in the car"

and then canceled my plans just in case you'd call?

back when I was living for the hope of it all, for the hope of it all

"meet me behind the mall"

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Looking back, Koushi’s last days were placid.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

The memories were painful to look back on, of course. But at the same time, Koushi recalled their moments together fondly. Even if it had ended in an inferno with his heart as collateral damage, his time with Daichi had also been the warmest sunlight.

He knew he was going to die. Everyone around him was confused as to why he didn’t just let them cut out the roots in his lungs, and along with them his ability to love, but they didn’t know what it felt like to be in love, rushing down the path, breathless, overjoyed, free.

Koushi would die before he let that feeling slip away from him, bittersweet as it was.

His flowers were poppies and peonies. Death, love and honor, he mused. Fitting, for his and Daichi’s story. Death was imminent, love was unrequited, and Daichi had turned out to be a man of dishonor, abandoning him.

Koushi supposed that Daichi would get what he “deserved” one day, too, even though his heart hurt for the man, still caring about the brunette even though he had stomped on his heart. He’d noticed how Kuroo looked at Nekoma’s setter, and he knew that like him, Daichi would only ever be a replacement.

It was heartbreakingly intriguing how fate came around back to itself.

remember when I pulled up and said "get in the car"

and then canceled my plans just in case you'd call?

back when I was living for the hope of it all

for the hope of it all

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Looking back, Koushi still had something to say.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

The steady beeping of the heart monitor was interrupted as the sound of the opening of his hospital door filled the room.

Daichi stepped through, and the fragments of Koushi’s heart skipped a little.

“Suga.” he greeted, seemingly uncomfortable. After all, what were you supposed to say to your ex-nothing who you were currently killing slowly, even if it was involuntary?

“Daichi.”

“U-um… How have you been?” he asked.

“As well as can be expected, I suppose.” Koushi replied wearily. Breathing had become a labor in and of itself, and he was having oxygen pumped into his failing lungs. “Why are you here?” he deadpanned.

Daichi at least had the wherewithal to look ashamed. “I came to apologize. I did you wrong, Suga. Please just get the surgery. You’re still my best friend-”

“Stop.” Koushi held a hand up weakly. “You broke my heart, Daichi. These are the consequences, and I’m not going to forgive you just to assuage your guilt. You can’t expect sorry to fix everything.” Daichi’s face revealed a storm of emotions.

Koushi sighed. “Please just go…” he mumbled quietly.

Daichi nodded, and as fast as he had arrived, he was gone.

Those were the last words Koushi ever spoke to anyone.

for the hope of it all,

for the hope of it all

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Looking back, Koushi was at peace.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

“Sugawara Koushi, age 18, died of suffocation from roots in his lungs on August 13th, 2012 at 22:08. The cause of death was Hanahaki disease, and it seems like his affliction was sped along by a visitation by its subject, and Sugawara-san was struck with a violent attack. Resuscitation efforts were unsuccessful.”

- Excerpt from the notes of Dr. Hayato Ayame

Finally, in death, Koushi was letting go.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

© ʙᴇᴛʜᴇʏᴅᴏᴄʀɪᴍᴇᴡʀɪᴛᴇꜱ 2021 - ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛ

[saskiavalentineapologist]

Dracogenesis

Teirsym Stillwater was not one for flights of fancy. She was known for being a very practical, obedient girl. She was not one to do reckless, impulsive things.

Now, sitting in a carriage transporting her from one gilded cage to another, she couldn’t stop thinking about throwing the door open and bolting into the woods.

She sat there, her hands gripping the crushed velvet fabric covering the plush carriage seats with a white-knuckled intensity that was unbecoming of someone of her stature. She stared over at her brother, Jonah, as he absorbed himself in a book.

They looked similar, the two of them. Their square faces and aquiline noses were inherited from their father, along with their blonde hair. Their brown eyes and slight statures were both from their mother--though Teirsym had gotten their father’s thin hips.

Despite Teirsym’s lack of conventional attractiveness, she was on her way to an arranged marriage.

The carriage door was so close, the gilded handle glinted in the sunlight, it beckoned to her with a honeyed light that reminded her that freedom was so close--if she only had the bravery to take it.

Teirsym Stillwater had never been brave before.

The little door separating the driver from their carriage opened, jerking Teirsym out of her thoughts. She shifted, a little guiltily, as the driver spoke.

“We’ve heard rumors of dragons in this part of the mountains.”

Teirsym perked up at that. She had a fascination with dragons ever since she was a child, and she wondered briefly if there were any metallic dragons that lived near the home of her betrothed--they did live high in the mountains-

“Chromatic or metallic?” Jonah’s inquisitive dark eyes have lifted from his book and were turned to the guard driving the carriage.

“Chromatic.”

Teirsym’s heart rate picked up in her chest.

“Odd,” Jonah commented. “Isn’t that fishing village with the dragon guardians supposed to keep the chromatic dragons out of these parts?”

“They are, Sire,” the guard affirmed. “It seems they’ve become lax in their duties. Either that, or the chromatic dragons in this area are docile enough to not warrant extermination.”

“Alright. Keep a sharp eye on the horizon.”

The guard nodded and shut the door.

“Are we in danger, Jonah?” Teirsym’s voice was soft, hesitant. She spoke with a Roostian accent--posh, sophisticated, strained.

“No.” Jonah has gone back to his book, and sounded bored with her question. “That village I mentioned wouldn’t abide an evil dragon to nest in these parts. If anything, we might get stopped by a dragon and go on our way. The worst that could happen is that we barter your dowry for safe passage.”

“Wouldn’t that make the Sunflare Clan upset?”

“They’d understand if it meant the safety of the new addition to their household.” Jonah looked up from his book and gave her a smile, seemingly missing the shiver of disgust that ran through Teirsym at those words and the thoughts they brought. “We’ll be alright, Teirsym. As long as I’m here, nothing bad will happen to you.”

Teirsym felt soothed by his words. Jonah had taken years of fencing and knew how to defend himself. Nothing could get to her while he was around, not even a dragon.

She sat back in her seat. Despite the relief that Jonah’s words brought her, she couldn’t seem to get rid of the tension knotting her body.

Her arranged marriage awaited her on the other side of the mountains. A forced arranged marriage, because her mother had caught her sleeping with her childhood best friend and had decided that Teirsym needed to marry a man immediately in order to save her from homosexuality. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want to be married off to the first man who would take her just so her mother wouldn’t have to look at her anymore. She didn’t want to keep living the rest of her life with her mother’s voice in her head telling her that she had brought shame to their family by daring to sleep with a woman.

She couldn’t imagine spending the rest of her life with a man instead of someone she could actually love.

She looked down to hide the tears springing to her eyes. She hated this, she hated every second that brought her closer to the man who would have her for the rest of her life--every jostle and bump of the carriage made her knotted stomach clench harder.

She turned her gaze to her brother and bored holes in him with reddened eyes.

For the entire trip from the island nation of Raven’s Roost to where they were now in the Splinter Mountains that split the nearby continent of Westfall, Teirsym had debated telling him the real reason for this journey. He didn’t know, he just thought that it was Teirsym’s time to get married, and that she had picked this man out of the ones their mother had presented to her.

She didn’t know how he would react, and that kept her mouth shut. Her mother had reacted with fury and disgust, her father hadn’t said a word, and she doubted Jonah would react in any way positively.

A loud sound interrupted her thoughts. She couldn’t quite distinguish the origins of it, and that had her looking to Jonah in a panic.

“Some animal, Teirsym, nothing more.” His voice was dismissive as he turned the page in his book. “We have armed guards with us, nothing is going to hurt you.”

Teirsym nodded. She clenched her hands back into fists around the seat and tried to calm the anxiety that was starting to churn in her gut.

The next hour or so passed in silence. Teirsym had gotten out her embroidery, and had almost forgotten about the whole thing until the little window opened up again.

“Sire, there’s smoke on the horizon.”

Teirsym paused, her needle poised to draw another pink thread through the peony she was embroidering.

“Which direction?”

Jonah was still sounding bored, and some part of Teirsym wanted to strangle him for not taking this seriously.

“It seems to be coming from the coast.”

“Odd. Perhaps it’s a wildfire? In any case, steer us well away from it.”

“Understood, Sire.”

The window closed again.

“It’s probably nothing, Teirsym,” Jonah assured her before she had a chance to ask anything. “Probably a burn that got out of hand, nothing more.”

Teirsym nodded, but a certain sense of dread had welled in her stomach and didn’t seem as if it was about to leave any time soon.

Her hands shook as she stabbed the needle through the fabric. In the fabric, tug till taught, back through. Back and forth, back and forth, breathing life into this flower one stitch at a time.

It was about fifteen minutes later that they heard it.

Heavy whooshing sounds, audible even from inside the carriage.

“Jonah-?!”

“I don’t know. Hold on.”

He opened the little window just in time for an earth-shattering roar to shake the carriage and the earth it stood on. Jonah’s book slid off the seat, and Teirsym clutched her embroidery with white-knuckled hands.

Teirsym’s heart plummeted as the guards outside screamed a word she had never really associated with fear before that moment.

“Dragon!”

Her eyes widened, and her mind stubbornly stuck on one detail instead of anything useful. On Raven’s Roost, there was a shield around the entire island that protected it from dragons. She had never even thought to fear being attacked before.

Jonah threw open the carriage door and leapt out, drawing the sword he kept stashed under the seat in case of emergencies. He turned to Teirsym and spoke.

“Stay here, stay quiet, stay safe.”

Then the door slammed shut and the carriage shuddered to a halt.

Teirsym’s hands shook from where they held her embroidery hoop. She listened intently as she could.

She could hear shouting, guards conversing, and the heavy whooshing coming ever-closer.

She squeezed her eyes shut as tears slid down her cheeks. She hated it, hated how she could only cry, she was stuck in this blasted carriage and couldn’t do a damned thing about it-

There was another roar, and then the carriage was upside down.

Teirsym blinked, dazed, as she realized she was now haphazardly laying on the ceiling of the carriage. It took her a moment to right herself, and it took another moment to realize it was getting hot, fast.

She threw open the door to the carriage and crawled out, getting to her knees amid fire and flames. She looked around wildly.

She saw guards firing into the sky, she saw the horses kicking from where the carriage had been knocked over. They screamed in pain, the guards yelled, and the sound of crackling flames was deafening. She felt like it was all coming to her from behind a pane of glass, like her brain was having trouble connecting what was happening at that moment with her.

Her hands flew to her mouth as she saw a guard not fifty feet from her get his top half bitten off by a giant, red maw.

Teirsym backed up rapidly, tripping and falling in her attempt to escape.

She found herself frozen as that red snout turned and sniffed. The earth shook as the dragon--because she was now realizing that this beast in front of her that boggled her mind with the size of it was in fact a dragon--moved over to the carriage.

Teirsym squeezed her eyes shut just in time for the last image she saw to be the dragon’s jaws snapping shut around one of the horses. The screaming still seemed to be muted, but Teirsym clapped her hands over her ears anyway because the only thing worse than the screaming, she was finding, was the crunching.

There was another heart-stopping scream and another set of horrible crunching, and then the world seemed to stop.

Teirsym opened her eyes and lowered her hands after a moment, trying to see if the dream was over and she could finally wake up.

The dragon stood before her, larger than anything she had ever seen, larger than buildings and larger than her, with eyes as green as the glass bottles champagne was served in. Those great green eyes were wide, crazed, boring into her with an animalistic fury.

Teirsym couldn’t move. She was frozen in place, and she couldn’t move. Her heart was pounding in her head, she felt like she was going to be sick, she couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe-

The earth shook as this, this thing took another step, and that’s when the spell was broken.

Teirsym turned and scrambled to her knees and then to her feet and took off for the woods. Her shoes slapped desperately on the earth and the woods were so close-

Two more steps made the world quake from behind her, and then she was pinned by something far larger than she could ever dream of being, or even comprehend with her mortal brain that wasn’t built for the mysteries of the world or the infinities she was finding in and around this beast.

She was turned over, and she stared up at the blood-stained maw of this dragon, those glass green eyes blinking sideways as they inspected her.

One large, scaled hand rose and with the care and delicacy of a calligrapher, the dragon pressed its claw to Teirsym’s forehead and drew a line down, curving around the side of her face and past her lips.

Teirsym screamed. She screamed until her voice was raw and she thrashed desperately and she was useless. There wasn’t a damn thing she could do in the face of this beast’s seemingly limitless strength.

Her heart pounded against the inside of her ribcage and Teirsym felt so despicably, sickeningly, infuriatingly small--like a fledgling sparrow pinned by a hunting cat.

The first line finished at her jawline, and a second was carved into her face with the same sadistic care, starting near her ear and crossing the first to end under her eye.

Blood streamed down the side of her face and down her neck, and Teirsym couldn’t help the great, heaving sobs that wracked her frame, or the futile tears that ran down her face.

The dragon pulled that claw from her face, admiring its handiwork. Blood dripped from its maw onto Teirsym’s face, mingling with her blood and her tears.

Suddenly, the hand holding her down was gone, and Teirsym looked to see that the dragon had whirled around to face a single survivor, and-

“Run!” Jonah’s voice was a roar, a plea, a desperate command. “Run, Teirsym!”

She gaped at him helplessly, but the dragon roared in response and that was all it took for her to scramble to her feet and bolt for the woods.

She didn’t dare stop, but she threw one final look over her shoulder just in time to see her brother locked in battle with this dragon.

Tree branches whipped at her as she ran, but she didn’t let them slow her down, because if she slowed down she might be caught and if she was caught-

She didn’t let herself stop until her lungs burned and her legs collapsed beneath her.

She fell to the forest floor in a heap, barely catching herself with her hands. Pine needles dug into every inch of skin that pressed against the forest floor, but they were just prickles compared to the fire coming from her face.

The situation finally caught up with her, and the realization of everything she had seen set in. She violently emptied her stomach onto the grass and pine needles until there was nothing left to come up except bile.

She crawled away from the pile of what had been breakfast and curled up next to a tree. A careful investigation of the mark on her face told her that the blood had caked and dried in a mess on her cheek, and the rivulets trailing down her neck had done the same.

The reality of the situation hit her.

She had no idea where she was, she had no way home, and she had lost her brother.

Teirsym Stillwater did what she could in the face of these facts.

She curled into herself and she sobbed there on the forest floor.

[kmomof4]

The Moon... Tells the Sea

Oh y'all!!! I can’t tell you how excited I am to finally share this fic inspired by @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713​ were-mermaid aesthetic for the @cssns​!!!! When she showed me what she was working on back in February, an entire outline of a story just spilled out of me. And with her blessing and tremendous excitement, I wrote it! I truly hope you enjoy it! Please make sure and give Kayla lots of love!!!

Muchos love and thanks to @searchingwardrobes​ for her outstanding beta services. I am truly embarrassed at how all over the place my tenses were before she got ahold of them 🤦🏻‍♀️. Also to @hollyethecurious​ for her help in brainstorming early on, and last but not least to Kayla herself for making this GORGEOUS and PERFECT aesthetic that inspired the entire fic!!!!

Fic Summary: Nearly a century has passed since she became what she is when a new figure enters her lonely world. Who is he? And more importantly, WHAT is he?

Rating: M (Violence and smut)

Words: Nearly 7100

Tags: Werewolves, Mermaids, Kidnapping, Smut

Find it on ao3 here

Tag list: @hollyethecurious​ @winterbaby89​ @snowbellewells​ @stahlop​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @jennjenn615​ @kingofmyheart14​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @branlovestowrite​ @thisonesatellite​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @flslp87​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @let-it-raines​ @shireness-says​ @kymbersmith-90​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @bethacaciakay​ @searchingwardrobes​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @teamhook​ @aprilqueen84​ @qualitycoffeethings​ @superchocovian​ @artistic-writer​ @donteattheappleshook​ @doodlelolly0910​ @seriouslyhooked​ @tiganasummertree​ @lfh1226-linda​ @nikkiemms​ @xsajx​ @klynn-stormz​

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

Under the cut unless Tumblr ate it.

He appeared for the first time just after the full moon. The pale moonlight shone down on his face, turning the dark hair on his head to almost a silver. He was tall and lean, and the scruff on his face lined a perfectly sharp jawline. The melancholy on his countenance was achingly familiar and somehow soothed the restlessness and agitation in her soul. She felt a drawing to him that she couldn’t explain, a kinship, a connection. He walked back and forth along the beach of the lagoon where she made her home, sometimes keeping his eyes on the white sand beneath his bare feet, other times gazing out at the water. She hoped that he saw her beneath the gentle waves, a flash of gold from her hair or the moonlight reflecting off the sea green scales on her tail. Alas, after several circuits on her beach, he turned back into the woods in the direction of the village that she once, long ago, called home.

It was nigh on a century ago when Emma walked this beach and splashed in this lagoon as a sixteen year old girl. There wasn’t much time allowed for leisure in her life, but she and some of the other girls were able to come down to the beach on occasion for a modicum of recreation. They would remove their shoes and wiggle their toes in the sand and splash in the surf which would inevitably devolve into a water fight, competing to see who could get who the wettest before they inevitably had to return to the tavern of their employ.

It was on one of these excursions that the most lovely music reached her ears. Music from across the water. When she walked further out into the lagoon seeking the source of the tune, she was suddenly pulled under. Her companions stared in shock, too far from her to even attempt a rescue. The water closed over her head, turning her screams into a gurgle, as she reached out for anything that would keep her from being carried away. Once underwater, she became aware of what exactly had pulled her under. The orange arm of an octopus was all she could see wrapped around her ankles and working its way up her body, pulling her away from everything that she had ever known, further and further away from the sunlight on the surface of the lagoon and closer and closer to the dropoff marking the boundary and the open ocean beyond. The sense of flying under the water intensified as the melody continued on, and even became louder the deeper she went. It was working its way into her heart and mind, telling her to not resist, that she was safe, that she would live forever. The assurances did nothing to assuage her fear and anger, even as a creeping lethargy enveloped her limbs, halting her struggles against the iron grip of the tentacle. Finally arriving at the bottom of the ocean, the tentacle released her to join its brothers as part of the most horrifying sight she had ever beheld. A green skinned man from the waist up, while below, a multitude of orange tentacles waved lazily in the deep water currents.  

Neal had taken advantage of her passivity, brought about by the melody that apparently he had sent to lure her into deep enough water that he could take her and make her his own. Upon her arrival in his underwater home, he immediately gave her fins instead of legs. He spoke words of love and tenderness to her, thinking to woo her to his side, but when he was unsuccessful after several weeks, his supposed love descended into a violent possessiveness, making her his by force. It was at this time that the full moon rose high in the sky and even though its light didn’t reach the depths, she still nearly drowned in her wolf form. If she hadn’t been fighting for her life, Neal’s surprise would have been comical. His surveillance had obviously been incomplete as he had no idea that he had kidnapped a werewolf. His magic placed her back on land where she’d be safe from drowning, but he warned her when the sun rose and she reverted back to human form, that she belonged to him and that his eyes would always be watching her when she was on land. He would not hesitate to kill anyone that tried to take what was his, including her, should she try to escape from him. Resigned to her fate, she endured the transformation each month and returned to the lagoon from whence Neal had taken her when the cycle came to an end. At least he allowed her that, only summoning her to his side when he wanted to remind her who she belonged to, which was, thankfully, relatively seldom all these years later.

She shuddered as the memories washed over her. Pushing them back down where they belonged, she looked back in the direction that the man had gone. She could only hope that he might come back.

The next night, he did come back. And the night after that, and the night after that. Every night, about an hour after sunset, he arrived at her beach. Some nights he would simply walk. Back and forth. Back and forth. She wished that she could speak to him, bring him some comfort in his distress. Other nights, he would sit on her beach and stare out at the sea for hours, tears tracking down his cheeks. It was those nights that the desire to reveal herself to him nearly overwhelmed her. But then she remembered Neal’s threats. She would not put this man in danger.

The next night was the first night of the full moon. She swam to the shallows as the sun set and she could feel the first stirrings of her change coming upon her. It was one thing to endure the pain of the transformation as a human, but as a mermaid, it was so much worse. She first had to face the agony of becoming human before she became the wolf.

Once the transformation was complete, her wolf still trembling with the aftereffects of the torment that had lately seized her, she ran for the shelter of the woods, desperate to hide herself among the foliage before he came for his evening constitutional. Tonight, being on the land instead of the sea and possessing the enhanced acuity of a wolf, she became aware of his presence before he was even beyond the borders of the town, about a mile away.

His steps were a bit slower this evening, and she was able to perceive details of his appearance that had been hidden in the previous weeks. The scruff that lined his jaw was tinged with ginger and his eyes were the blue of the lagoon that she now called home. He was dressed in the garb of a laborer and his hands were filthy. She wondered if he worked in the blacksmith shop.

He made the cover of the trees and her nose twitched with the scent she perceived on the night air coming off of him in waves. It couldn’t be. He turned from the path and disappeared from her sight. She was still over half a mile away from him. She ran to him, desperate to see if what she could smell was correct. Jumping over the detritus and long fallen, rotting trees that lay along the unseen paths used by the inhabitants of the forest, she raced toward her goal, her salvation. Arriving at her target, she came to a sudden stop. There, nestled in the bracken of the forest floor, was a wolf. A wolf dark as midnight under a new moon. His transformation was complete, but he had not yet recovered enough to make any sort of move against her.

She trod gingerly over to him. A low growl, full of menace reached her from deep in his chest. He may not be quite recuperated from the transformation, but he was far from defenseless, if the strength of that growl was anything to go by. He lifted his head and stared into her eyes. Electric blue met verdant green in a dance as old as time. He rose from his forest bed and nosed along her muzzle. She held as still as she could while he nosed along the length of her, pausing below her tail to scent her. His tongue flicked out and the vibrating tension that had held her still since their eyes met broke. Emma spun away from him and mouthed gently at his muzzle before taking off through the woods. She didn’t need her heightened hearing to know that he was following her lead. The blood sang in her veins as she unleashed a howl at the full moon up above. He joined her in a chilling duet that carried both to the village and to the lagoon. She made to jump over a huge decaying log across their path when her back leg was caught in the rotting bark. A surprised and pain-filled whine was torn from her as she landed on top of the log. Mere seconds passed before the other wolf was by her side and ripping at the disintegrating log. Finally free, she jumped off the log, landing gingerly on the injured leg. The pain speared through her with each step she took, so she walked with a slight limp. He was by her side in an instant, bumping into her, supporting her as she tried to walk off the pain.

It took a few minutes, but the supernatural healing did its work and she resumed the chase through the woods until they burst through the foliage onto her beach. Suddenly mindful that Neal would have a much easier time seeing her and her companion when they were this exposed, she ran back for the cover of the forest. She came to a stop and turned back towards him, just as he burst through and tackled her. They rolled a few times until Emma laid on her back. The black wolf hovered over her before he lowered his face to hers and stretched himself out, half on top of her, half along her side. A wolfish sigh left her as she tentatively licked his muzzle. The crystal blue eyes half shut in pleasure and a pleased low growl left him.

She was still coming to terms with the fact that this man she had watched all month was also a werewolf like her, but as she snuggled closer into his solid bulk and her eyes fell shut, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she had found her true mate. Now she just needed to figure out how to get away from Neal.

~*~*~

The sun was just breaking over the horizon when Emma woke, back in her human form. She was naked and the huge black wolf stretched out next to her was keeping her warm in the chill of the dawn. She looked around and found that they collapsed under a small copse of trees that the morning light was just barely able to penetrate. She wet her lips as her attention was drawn back to the creature next to her. She couldn’t help but reach out to touch his fur to see if it was as soft as it looked.

She buried her hand in the scruff of his neck, eyes rolling in the back of her head as the softness enveloped her. She came back to herself and studied him again. In the light of the morning, she could see that his fur wasn’t as dark as she thought last night. There was some white mixed in on his head, making it more of a dark grey rather than solid black. His underside was also more grey than black. He stretched beside her and she snatched her hand away, not wanting to wake him. With his back legs stretched out, she could clearly see that he was taller than she was.

She looked around, trying to find a place to hide from him. He’d be awake soon and she didn’t want him to see her like this. Not for a first meeting, anyway. His eyes were starting to open, the deep blue shining through his still half closed eyelids. She stood and suppressed a shiver brought on by the sudden loss of his body heat, and moved to hide herself behind a tall tree just at the edge of their sanctuary.

She hunkered down, trying to conserve her own body heat when she heard him stand in the loam where they made their bed. Peeking out from behind her tree, she was captivated by the full effect of the vivid blue eyes as they met hers. She couldn’t look away as a full body shudder ripped through him and he crouched there without moving as his own transformation overtook him. Once it was complete, he stood before her, in all his glory. He was beautiful. Tall and lean, with a dusting of chest hair leading down to where his hands covered himself. He obviously felt the same way she did about their initial meeting. His arms and legs were strong, perfectly toned muscles that she’d love to feel under her fingers. She knew that he saw her, his blush and heavy swallow testimony to that. Her eyes widened and fell away from him as she felt her own blush spreading over her cheeks.

He moved a few feet away and hid himself behind another tree. Moments later his voice reached her.

“Are you alright, lass? No worse for wear from our romp last night?”

His accent seemed to wrap around her and draw her to him. She peeked around her hiding place once again to answer him.

“Oh, my leg?” She moved it just to make sure. “Yes, it’s fine. Thank you.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Silence reigned for a long moment. “I’m Killian. Killian Jones.”

“I’m Emma,” she replied.

“How have I never seen you in the village, Emma?”

“I’m not from the village. Not now, anyway.”

“What do you mean, lass?”

“I’m originally from the village, but I haven’t been there in many years.”

“I see.” He obviously did not see. She knew for a fact that he hadn’t been aware of her presence in the lagoon all month, and without that essential piece of the puzzle, there was no way that he could understand exactly what she meant. “Do you need anything? Since you’re hiding yourself from me, I can only assume that you’re also nude. Do you have clothes to put on?”

She blushed even harder at his perceptiveness. “Uh, no. I don’t.”

“May I bring you some from the village? My clothes are where I left them last night and I have some time before I’m expected in the blacksmith’s shop.”

“That would be lovely,” she breathed, utterly flabbergasted that he’d want to help her in this way. “Thank you.”

“No problem at all, Emma. I’ll return shortly.”

It was only about thirty minutes before he returned to her hiding place, bearing a white shift in his arms.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t bring you anything more substantial, but I didn’t have much money with me.” He reached behind her tree, where she was still hidden, and held it out to her. She took it and let the soft cotton slide through her fingers. She hadn’t felt anything like it in so long, she couldn’t wait to feel it against her skin.

She slipped it on and came out from behind her tree. She swallowed heavily before looking up at him from beneath her lashes, feeling very exposed and bashful now that she was face to face with him. He reached up and drew his knuckles down her cheek as he looked into her eyes. He smiled gently at her.

“It’s very nice to meet you face to face, Emma.”

“You too, Killian.” She couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“Will I see you tonight? The blacksmith doesn’t close down until the sun sets, and I’d assume that since you were already a wolf before I was last night and were human again before I was this morning, that you’ll be in your wolf form before I return to the woods tonight?”

She nodded. “Yes, I turn with the sunset and rise.”

“I can control my turning,” he shared with her.

“So that’s why you didn’t turn until you were in the woods, and were still a wolf when I woke?”

“Aye,” he acknowledged. “So will I see you again tonight?”

“Yes,” she answered, looking back up into his incredibly blue eyes.

He looked back over his shoulder in the direction of the town. “I have to get to work. Until tonight, Emma.” He turned back toward her and placed a tender kiss on her cheek.

Her hand raised to where the place he had kissed her still tingled as he walked away. “Until tonight, Killian,” she murmured.

~*~*~

Emma was never far from his thoughts the entire day. It’s a wonder he didn’t lose a hand, given the work he was doing and the level of distraction he was dealing with.

He may have only just met her, but the connection he felt with her last night and then this morning could not be denied.

A connection that made the wolf inside of him howl with delight and filled him with a joy that he hadn’t felt in ages. Not since long before he’d wandered into this small village about a month before.

Killian had been traveling from kingdom to kingdom, village to village after losing his brother almost three years before when he was only 15. He and his brother had been raised on the ship where their father had taken work after their mother had died when Killian was only a toddler. Today, he couldn’t imagine how hard it had to have been for his father to lose his wife and having to take work anywhere he could find it while raising two boys on his own. Two boys that were destined to become wolves when puberty hit. By the time his own time came, their father had passed and Liam was the one to help Killian through the transition and teach him how to control his shift.

It was the following year when Liam had been lost at sea during a storm and Killian had gone ashore. Life on the sea was in his blood, but with the painful memories that came with it, he decided to forge his own path on land.

Since then he’d drifted. Never staying in one place for more than a few months. Never long enough to form a connection with anyone, never long enough to put down roots. But meeting Emma last night changed everything.

She was the most beautiful wolf he’d ever laid eyes on. Fur as white as the freshly fallen snow. Green eyes that glittered under the full moon. He remembered the scent that had flooded him as he still lay recovering from his shift. The scent of were. He knew when he finally gazed upon her that she was not just a wolf. She was also a werewolf like him. He knew as they ran through the forest under the light of the moon that she was his and he was hers. His true mate.

Beholding her beauty in the flesh this morning, it was no wonder that even now, thoughts of her had his blood running south. Blonde hair that looked kissed by the sun, green eyes that had so captivated him the night before, firm muscles still supple with youth. She looked to be about a year younger than he was, or no more than two. She had said that she was from this village originally, but hadn’t been there in many years. How many years? Where had she been in the meantime? And why didn’t she have any clothes? The mysteries surrounding this woman swirled around in his brain until the sun finally set and he was free to leave.

Reaching the edge of the village, he looked up to the tree line. There she was. Mostly concealed, but the large pupils flashed under the light of the full moon allowing him to see her. He quickened his pace until he joined her under the canopy of the forest.

“Emma?” he asked. He knew it was her, but he just wanted that little bit more. Confirmation that she was what he thought she was. Her expression softened before she turned her back to him and moved forward. A grin broke out on his face as he followed her deeper into the woods.

She led him back to the same copse of trees that they slept in the night before. She turned in a circle a couple of times before curling up on the ground. Even with the white of her fur, he could barely see her in their safe haven. The light of the moon didn’t reach this deep into the forest, much less through the intertwined boughs of their shelter. It was more that he heard her settling and the pants of her breathing that told him where she was.

He settled down next to her and reached out to try and touch her. His hand found the deep, thick fur of her scruff. Never had he felt anything so soft. He moved his hand until it reached her ears and he could feel her raise her head, seeking more attention in that spot. He chuckled and proceeded to scratch at the sensitive area. After a few moments of the activity, Emma giving a contented low whine as he continued his ministrations, she stood from her spot, moved in front of him, and jumped up on him, placing her paws on his shoulders, pushing him backward into the earth. A laugh broke out of him as he lay still and waited to see what she would do next. This close, he could finally get a good look at her face. Her green eyes sparkled in the low light as she brought her muzzle close to his face and nuzzled into his cheek before she surprised him with a slow lick. He grabbed her scruff and nuzzled his own face into the softness that he found there. Pulling away from him, she turned around right above his head before she laid down again, scooching as close to his head as she could. When he raised up, trying to catch her eyes, she slid herself underneath his head, so that when he lay his head back down, it was the softness of her fur and underbelly that met him rather than the hard ground.

“Is this comfortable for you, Emma?” he murmured. His position allowed her to reach his face with another lick. She continued licking, as if she tasted something good along his skin. Laughing, he finally pushed her away when he’d had enough of her affection. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Laying there in their own safe place, he gazed up through the branches trying to see the night sky above. There was one area off to his left that was completely unobscured both by their little den and by the forest at large. He looked that way, seeing just a sliver of the full moon. He was pretty sure that he had time to tell her about himself before the whole of the full moon flooded their hideaway. Once it did, he wanted to turn and run with his mate.

He told Emma of his earliest memories aboard the ship and how he didn’t remember his mother at all. He told her about his father and brother, how they taught him about his wolf nature, and how he lost both of them. By the time he got to the current time, the full moon lit up their retreat. He raised himself up and looked at the beautiful wolf beside him.

“Are you ready to run, darling?”

She lifted her muzzle to the sky and let out a ringing howl. He raised his own face to the moon and joined her in her wolf song as he gave his shift full rein over his body. Short minutes later, his wolf senses much more attuned to the exquisite creature by his side, he tore through the underbrush of their oasis into the forest, Emma right on his heels.

They ran like the wind, indulging in their delight at being together. The scent of a rabbit crossed their trail causing them to run back toward the village that was Killian’s temporary home. Catching up to the terrified creature, they made short work of their meal before engaging in a game of tag that ended when Killian was so caught up in the presence of her that he lost track of where he was and instead of jumping to sidestep the edge of the ravine they were running along, lost his footing and fell to the bottom of it. Landing on his feet, he looked up at where Emma stood watching him, tongue lolling, her green eyes filled with mirth. Running back up the side of the ravine to her, he pounced, his front legs laying across her shoulders and neck, mouthing gently at her snout in a sign of affection. Her head turned toward his as she accepted his overtures before he got off her and she turned back toward their secret hideaway.

Once they arrived safely, they snuggled together and slept.

~*~*~

Emma was awakened by a hand rubbing up and down her naked back. She was snuggled into Killians side, head on his shoulder and the rest of her body flush with his side. She buried her face into his neck and let out a distressed moan.

“What is it, Emma?” he asked, gently, never halting his light touch.

“I should have awakened and hidden before you woke up. Like I did yesterday.”

Killian chuckled. “Why? I don’t know about you, but as far as I’m concerned, I’m yours. All of me.” He took her hand in his other one and brought it up to his lips where he kissed each finger tip before looking deeply into her eyes. “I’ve never met a female werewolf, darling. How could I possibly be with anyone else?”

“But you don’t know anything about me,” she protested. “You only met me yesterday! At least I had the benefit of hearing your story last night and watching you all month when you walked along the beach. I knew that there was just something about you. When I watched you walk along the beach or sit and stare out at the water, I wanted nothing more than to reveal myself to you. Comfort you. Be with you.” The last part was a whisper as she looked away from his piercing gaze, only to be met with his naked body.

“So tell me,” he encouraged her. “When I felt you turn with the sunrise, I allowed myself to turn as well. I thought it might be comforting for you and I to have a few minutes together as humans before I had to go back to the village.”

She looked up into the azure blue of his eyes that she thought she would surely drown in. Seeing nothing but honest sincerity in his gaze, she began her own tale.

“I was born in the village, but abandoned as a baby. I was raised by Granny along with her own granddaughter, Ruby.” Killian’s brow furrowed at the mention of the names. “They were werewolves and owned the Red Wolf tavern. Granny somehow knew that I was were and took me in because of it. Granny taught me everything I needed to know about being a werewolf. How to live as a wolf during the full moon, how to keep my secret the rest of the month. Ruby, the other girls employed at the tavern, and I would come to the beach on occasion for some fun. Just a chance to relax, play, forget our troubles. Just for a little while…” her voice trailed away into a whisper.

Killian had gone very still. “Yes, Emma?” he questioned, “Keep going. I’m listening.”

“I was 16. I had apparently attracted the attention of a merman, Neal. The girls and I  were just doing what we always did when I heard the most beautiful music. Music that he sent to lure me to deeper water so that he could take me. When I was far enough away from Ruby and the others, he kidnapped me. Brought me to his underwater home, turned me into a mermaid, and tried to win my affections. When I refused him, he forced me to remain with him. When he realized that I was a werewolf, he allowed me to spend those days and nights on the shore, after making sure that I knew that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone that tried to take me from him. Including myself, if I tried to escape from him.”

Emma could feel Killian’s fury rolling off of him. “I’ll kill him, Emma. I’ll kill the bastard. When was this? How long ago were you kidnapped?”

She buried her face into his neck again, not wanting to see his face when she told him. “It’s been nearly one hundred years.”

Killian grabbed her shoulders and lifted her away from him. It was all she could do to meet his eyes as he scrutinized her. “I knew that it’d have to have been many years, because the Red Wolf tavern and most of the village burned down 70 years ago. By that time, Granny was long gone, and Ruby was killed in the fire. The old timers still talk about it like it was yesterday. But I had no idea how long it had been for you.” He pulled her to him and held her gently as the tears that had gathered in her eyes started to fall.

Once her tears were spent, she looked back up to him. Raising her with him, he sat up, tenderly cupped her face within his hands and lowered his mouth to hers. A soft moan worked its way out of her mouth as she opened beneath the cautious questing of his tongue. He was so gentle and loving that she never wanted this to end. Her arms wrapped around him, her hands plunging into his raven locks as they rocked together. He lay back down with Emma atop him, never releasing her lips as his hands began to roam her naked body. Her nerve endings fired wherever he touched, leaving anticipatory shivers in their wake.

When air became necessary, they broke apart, both panting heavily. “As much as I’d like to continue this, Emma, I’m expected in the village soon.”

“I know,” she murmured into the space between them. She was loathe to let him go, but knew she must.

“We’ll continue this tomorrow morning,” he assured her.

“But I’ll be a mermaid again with the sunrise!”

“Then we’ll wait until next month.” He pushed back on her shoulders until his fierce blue eyes bored into hers. “We will be together, Emma. I swear it. I will always find you.”

“I will always find you,” she whispered back to him. She pressed another kiss to his lips and rose from their makeshift bed. Donning her shift, she turned back to where he was pulling his own clothes on.

“Until tonight, Emma,” he whispered, pressing his lips to hers and running his fingers down her face.

“Until tonight, Killian.”

~*~*~

That night passed in much the same way as the previous night did. Killian arrived shortly after the sun set and joined Emma in their wolf form. They ran together under the full moon, played a game of hide and seek (Emma could only stand playing one round, her white fur making it very difficult to hide from another were), and hunted for their meal before they finally collapsed together in a fluffy pile in their temporary home.

It was about an hour before sunrise when she felt Killian change beside her. Still mostly asleep, she barely remembered him whispering to her that he’d be back in a bit before pressing a kiss into her scruff and leaving the copse. She had gotten so used to having Killian beside her the last two nights that she couldn’t fall back into the sleep that beckoned her. She finally gave up and rose to go look for him.

His scent led her to the beach. Was he walking along the beach waiting for the sunrise as he had been doing all month after darkness fell? She came to a sudden stop at the edge of the forest, just before it met the beach when she heard two voices raised in anger. One beloved, the other a voice that she would have been quite happy to never hear again as long as she lived. In the gray morning before the sun rose, she could see Killian, as a man, standing before Neal, his tentacles undulating on the surface of the lagoon. She could hear Neal’s laughter as Killian’s voice rose in a shout demanding her freedom.

Several things happened at once. Neal’s face morphed from taunting mirth into a sneer as one of his tentacles surged forward and wrapped securely around Killian’s middle, squeezing tightly and dragging him toward the water. Emma could no longer remain hidden. She knew that Neal meant to drown Killian and she couldn’t let that happen to her love. To her mate. She burst from the trees and raced to the shore where Killian was being dragged. He was transforming within Neal’s grasp, perhaps thinking that Neal would lose his grip on a wolf instead of a man.

She could see the fury in Neal’s eyes as she arrived at Killian’s side. His turn halted as his arms reached around her, resulting in a tug of war between herself and Neal. Killian’s arms grasped desperately and she pulled back with all her might, trying to get him away first from Neal and second from the dangerous waves that seemed to nearly be an extension of Neal himself. Perhaps it was only her imagination, but they seemed to be grabbing at Killian as well, trying to drown him within their depths. She was able to get close enough to one of Neal’s arms that she clamped down on it, biting all the way through, a clean amputation in between the adversaries. Neal roared, releasing Killian to fall to the beach, gasping for air. She leapt at her captor, heedless of his other tentacles writhing in agony and the waves where he could easily drown her.

Neal was unprepared for her leap, and though he caught her in his arms, her bulk pushed him beneath the waves as she clamped her teeth down on his throat and ripped it out. His blood painted her muzzle bright red as the water closed over them. His arms loosened from catching her and she watched as the light dimmed and was extinguished from his eyes. Blood continued to pour from the gaping wound into the water that surrounded them. Swimming as best she could for the surface, her head broke through just as the sun peeked over the horizon. Helpless to stop her change from coming over her, she nearly whimpered in relief as strong arms wrapped around her body and carried her to shore. Never had she been held in someone’s arms as she turned. Never had she felt so safe, so protected, so loved as she did at that moment. Killian gently lay her on the white sand of the beach, staring into her eyes so reverently as she recovered from her transformation.

When she came back to herself, cradled in her mate’s arms, staring into eyes the exact same shade of her lagoon, she reached up and pulled him down into a desperate kiss. It was when his hands began caressing her hip that realization dawned. She was human! The sunrise should have brought her mermaid form with it, but with Neal’s death, his curse on her was broken as well. She pulled away and stared down at her body before meeting Killian’s amazed and joyful gaze with her own.

“I’m human.”

“Aye,” he agreed, “That you are, lass.”

Her mouth opened and shut several times before she found her voice again. “I’m not a mermaid anymore.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m free,” she breathed, “Neal is dead and I’m free!”

Killian gathered her in his arms and held her close, their heartbeats synchronizing in their elation.

It wasn’t long, however, before they both became aware of Emma’s nude state. Drawing back from her, Killian raised a salacious eyebrow at his beloved. “We need to get you dressed, my love, before my desire overrides my good sense.”

“No one comes to this lagoon, Killian. No one,” she asserted, vehemently. Her green eyes were filled her own desire and her hands were busy opening his shirt and then pushing his trousers over his hips. “Please make love to me, Killian. Make me yours.”

A groan worked its way out of his throat as he acquiesced to her demand and crashed his lips to hers. With nothing but the light of the sun touching her skin, he drew back and drank in her beauty. Her pupils were blown wide in desire, the green only a thin ring around them. Her golden tresses shone in the light of the rising sun. If he was struck blind in that moment, he’d never forget the sight of the sun in her hair as his hands roamed her succulent body, memorizing her contours and all the places he touched that made her gasp, moan, and sigh.

She was not idle as he set about worshipping his love, his mate. Her fingers trailed through his chest hair, sending shivers throughout his body, before following the trail down to where he was hard and aching for her. He thrust his hips into her hands as they began stroking him from root to tip.

He nuzzled into her neck, placing open mouth kisses before sucking hard at her pulse point, drawing heat to the surface of her skin, and causing her to cry out in pleasure. One hand caressed the fullness of her breasts as the other sought out her most intimate place. When he found his treasure, he found her folds drenched in her want of him.

Pulling back from her, he looked into her eyes. “Are you ready for me, my darling?”

“Yes, Killian,” she cried, “Yes, please!”

He lined himself up and slowly pushed into her heat. Twin sighs of relief escaped them both as they were now joined in every way possible. He rolled his hips into her until her gasp told him that he had found that spot inside her. He determined to hit that spot every time until he watched her fall apart. He began measured thrusts into her, seeking the place inside her that would bring her the most pleasure. She wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him deeper, meeting him thrust for thrust until he was helpless in her embrace. He drove himself into her, staving off the tingling in his spine as he felt her walls begin to flutter along his length. He reached between them and caressed the swollen nub just above where they were joined until she shattered in his arms.

Murmuring praise into her ear as she shuddered with the strength of her climax, he began to chase his own release. Moments later, his climax rolled through him, joining his mate in the ultimate bliss of their union.

The drift back to earth seemed to take forever. He slipped out of her and rolled to the side, not wanting to crush her with his weight. He drew her back into his arms and placed a kiss on the tip of her nose.

“Still with me, Emma?” he murmured.

“Mmmmmmm,” she hummed, still blissed out from their lovemaking.

Killian chuckled and drew her closer until they were flush from shoulders to feet. “So what now?” she asked, “What do I do now?”

“Anything you want, my love,” he replied. “We can go anywhere you like or we can stay here. The blacksmith is getting on in years and doesn’t have children to take over when he is gone. I think that’s why he was so eager to hire me. He seems to be about ready to hand over his hammer. We could make a life here. Raise children here.” He blushed, scratching behind his ear in an adorably nervous gesture. “If you’d rather leave, I do hope that you realize that I’m coming too. I can’t live without you, darling. Please don’t ask me to.”

She closed the distance between them and found his lips with her own. “Of course, I wouldn’t. I can’t live without you, either. Don’t you know that? You saved me.”

“You are the one who did the saving, darling.” The sincerity in his eyes had her pulling him to her again in a kiss that threatened to spin out of control before she broke it.

“I’d be happy to stay here, if you are,” she asserted.

Killian let out a whoop of pure happiness as he hugged her to him. “Then let's go, Emma. We have time to get to the village and get you settled in my lodgings before I have to be at work.”

They rose and made it back to their copse where they dressed quickly and departed for the village. Killian was correct in his speculations about the blacksmith. When they got into town, Killian introduced Emma as his betrothed to his boss, Marco, who was absolutely delighted to hear the news. As soon as they celebrated their nuptials, just before the full moon the very next month, Marco indeed handed the hammer over to Killian in order to adequately provide for his bride and any little ones that God would see fit to grant them.

And so, Killian and Emma Jones built a life in the small village, enjoying their children, and eventually grandchildren in their own happily ever after.

The End

Thanks for reading and sharing!

[beakami]

The Force and Love Series (03/04): In Exchange Of Nothing (Obi Wan x Reader, no y/n)

Hello! I have ended up deciding on “finishing” this story in the forth chapter. But only for the time being. I will proably come back to it and make more drama and smut and stuff once I’ve rewatched the movies and so. But for now I think it’s quite a nice beginning.

Summary: Reader is rescued from a life of servitude when Obi Wan and Master Joda find her while on a very important mission. Her connection with the Force is deep and quite different from the one the Order is used to. She is now free but, what will it be of her life? Will she follow the path of the Jedi? Will feeling get in the way?

Warnings: Will change in furute chapters but for now just some angst and mention of slavery. If there is anything else you see and think I should add here, please, do tell me and I will do so gladly. Enjoy

Word Count: 4865.

Chapter 3: In Exchange of Nothing

 >>You woke up really early in the morning, the comfortable bed and the lack of nightmares for once, making your dark circles finally disappear completely. You felt good, and even if you were a little tense to talk to all the Master Jedis of the Council, you felt energized. Was this how everybody felt when they were properly rested? It was…kind of new to you. So you took advantage of the early hours and went into the shower, another “luxury” you didn’t mind getting used to. Your skin and hair were almost perfect after two months here of actually being able to clean them properly, and you felt…wonderful. Your scalp didn’t hurt, your skin didn’t itch, and you had recovered your smooth white tone, all the sunburns healed (Because even in plain sunlight every day you were just pale, never getting more than a subtle Sunkissed color, less reflecting white and more just…normal-person-white) and also, and most important of all, you finally saw every scratch, red patch and cut heal. You didn’t remember feeling that way…ever. Now cleaned and wrapped in a robe you supposed was meant for you to dry of, you heard a knock on the door, and went to open it quickly, finding a young padawan with a bag on his hands. You smiled softly down at him, he blushed, and for the life of you, you didn’t know why. You looked at yourself and were completely and well covered, just your red messy wet hair to give away the shower you took. So you chose to let it go and smile at him again.

 -May I help you with something?

 -I… -he cleared his throat and straightened himself up, and you found the young one quite adorable- Master Yoda sends you this.

 >>He handed you the bag and you took it with a nod.

 -Thank you very much, such a diligent messenger. Please, would you tell Master Yoda that I am really grateful for his gesture? I would highly appreciate it.

 >>He blushed again but kept a straight face, nodded vigorously, turned around, and left. You giggled softly when he was far enough not to listen and you went back inside to get ready. The robes were simple, the under layers where light blue, showing just on the hem of the sleeves, skirt and neck under the intense navy blue of the outer layers. You put it on and when you adjusted it and looked into the mirror you thought it was gorgeous, as if Master Yoda had known what you would like. It hung to your figure, yet it wasn’t too revealing; the colors were beautiful, but not flamboyant; and you felt your heart swell two sizes, eagerly wanting to thank him for the gift. How long had it been since…you stopped that thought, it would take to your parents and you didn’t want your mood to sadden before the meeting. With a soft sigh, relaxing your shoulders and neck, you sat in front of the vanity and combed and fixed your hair. It fell more adequate to have it out of your face, up and modest in a comfortable updo. Once ready you sighed, really wishing, praying to the Maker and all the stars, that this would go well.

 >>A little while passed, as you read to keep yourself occupied, until a knock on the door brought a smile to your lips but also a knot to your stomach. You stood up and went to speedily open it. You found yourself before Obi Wan, his usually brown and cream robes replaced by black ones and you could swear he blinked a couple of times at the sight of you.

 -Good morning. Thank you for coming to pick me up…I am sure I would get lost if I were to go on my own…and would be way more nervous. -You said as he didn’t speak, gratitude filling your tone with warmth-.

 -No need to thank me. I must say you look… -he sees you blush before he even finishes his sentence and smiles- beautiful…and very professional.

 -Th-thank you. Master Yoda has really good taste. It is gorgeous, such a nice thing to be my first gift in…forever. -you said, a soft blush in your cheeks as you clear your throat.

 >>He noticed how you stopped before that forever and he could only guess how long it might have been since your parents. He offers you his arm and you blink a couple of times at his gesture and sweet smile, you had seen your masters do that with their wives and you blush some more.

 -Obi Wan?

 -Am I not to escort you to the Council meeting? -he saw you looking between his arm and his face and he had to suppress a chuckle- It is just…being polite.

 >>You notice that he used your words, the same you told him about standing when others do and you relaxed, smiling sincerely. With that you rested your hand on the inside of his elbow, as you had seen your mistresses do many times.

 -You are a natural. -he said and you smiled a little wider though you were still slightly embarrassed- Shall we go?

 >>You nodded and closed the door behind you, letting Obi Wan lead you through the corridors of the Temple and towards the room where the Council met. He found quite endearing the way you looked and observed everything, especially the young ones training. He bet you would be a wonderful teacher, filled with patience and care. He would have shaken those thoughts out of his mind but he really didn’t see anything wrong about them.

 >>It wasn’t long before you reached the door of the Council room, feeling the strong Force signatures of all the Jedi Master. Obi Wan felt you tense a little, your hand on his arm tightening the slightest and he sent a wave of calmness through the Force. You felt it and sighed, smiling a silent thank you to him. Soon you heard a voice calling from inside, and you thought it was Master Windu.

 -Come on, you can do it, Tris, just breath. -He said and you nodded in response as he opened the doors and lead you in.

 >>The atmosphere was somewhat tense but less than you had expected, maybe because Master Yoda smiled at you when you looked his way and returned the gesture. He looked up and down at the dress and his smile widened, and at that it seemed the wave of gratitude you sent his way was more intense than you had thought, because all the Jedi widened their eyes a little.

 -Sorry… -you murmured and Yoda laughed, he laughed and you blinked in surprise as you felt the feeling wash over you emanating from the other Masters, including Obi Wan.

 -Sorry you do not need to be. Glad I am that you like it, dear Beatrice. -He smiled and you did the same as a reflex, feeling a little more relaxed- Now, gratitude is not why we are here. -You nod and look at the other Jedi present there. Obi Wan released you then, and walked to stand behind Master Yoda, giving you a reassuring smile.

 -Master Kenobi told me you wanted to talk to me. I…am honored, so…please, just tell me what you want to know and I’ll answer truthfully.

 >>As you spoke Master Yoda nodded with a soft humming noise of approval.

 -Obi Wan says that get to know you better we should. Help us decide it will. What do you think? -he asks and you really don’t know what to say, except for an honest affirmation that you feel might be stupid, but it’s all that comes to your mind.

 -That he is right, if you have to take a decision about someone, how to do it without knowing that person? -you answered and felt the Force signatures between you stir, not unpleasantly, so you tried to stay calm- What would you like to know of me?

 >>That time, another Jedi you didn’t know spoke, one with a bulbous head and a serious expression.

 -Who taught you to use the Force?

 -No one…

 -You said you would be truthful.

 -I am! -you were quick to say, a little nervous they wouldn’t believe you- I was born into slavery, and neither my parents nor my masters knew anything about the Force. For years not even I knew what it was. But it has always been with me, feeling what others feel, sensing danger before it appears…it came naturally, though I had to work to control some things.

 -What things? -Master Windu asked, seeming interested-.

 -I…I could feel everything around me, and being a slave…pain, sorrow, fear…it was my everyday…mine and of the ones around me, I…felt like going crazy until I managed to control it and just…feel others only when I wanted and not all the time.

 >>A hum echoed in the room and then it went silent. Too silent as all eyes were on you. You felt observed, examined and suddenly you felt…a thing again, even if you knew, you knew it wasn’t like that. But they had the same looks, the same eyes assessing how much you would be worth, for how many credits they should ask to sell you and not lose money. Just that this time they were pondering how dangerous you could end up being, or how helpful to them, if you would be a problem or not. You shrank a little on the spot and they sensed it. Yoda was going to clear his throat when you did so before him, and he let you speak.

 -Maybe…maybe you should know something…what I told Master Kenobi that made him want me to talk to you… -you looked at him and he nodded, a soft smile encouraging you, telling you it would all be ok- I…Don’t even know if a want to be a Jedi. -The murmurs started again but Master Yoda hushed them with just a flicker of the Force-.

 -Elaborate.

 >>You smiled as he had said the same thing Obi Wan did, just…you had started the conversation different with him.

 -I want to learn…almost more than anything, I wish to really understand this thing that has been with me my whole life… -passion filled her words and she knew some of the presents liked that and others grew weary, always afraid at their idea that strong feeling lead to the dark side. You sighed and took a deep breath before going on- But…I’ve been a slave my whole life, rules carved in stone that would cost me my life if I broke them. I know it’s not the same. -you quickly added- This is a choice, not something they force on you, and yet…I feel like I could follow happily every rule and custom, work every day all day as hard as my body and mind could hold me. But…there is one thing I don’t think I am willing to abandon…but I would never just break an oath, even less to those who had saved me, freed me.

 >>Now the room was silent, completely, all attention on you, and Yoda and Obi Wan seemed even proud of how you stood on the middle of all those Jedi Masters holding yourself so high and speaking so firmly.

 -Love…for me forbidding love is just fear, fear of the power it can give both good and bad people. Love is like the Force. -and your Force signature was feeling so strong then, covering you in a way that had all of them focused on feeling it- It is strong, but neither good nor bad in itself. And yet…it is forbidden.

 >>Obi Wan was looking at you, mesmerized, proud of how you were making your point without trembling, until something shocked him. A tear, a single tear that accompanied a roaring pain in your aura, one that they all felt and it left them breathless.

 -Love is air and yet…You have saved me, and I will forever be grateful.

 >>”No no no” resounded in Obi Wan’s head when what you were going to say hit him. You looked at him and smiled lovingly, because you knew he cared for you and that he already knew what you intended, you had felt that “No” ring your way. And even if you could never thank him enough, you had to keep going, and so, your smile grew in warmth, a single tear drying on your cheek. But that smile made it all hurt even more to that good man.

 -So… -Your voice was still steady but your Force was shaking and embracing you as if to keep you in one piece. You didn’t really pay it much attention though, while it had everyone else looking with wide eyes at you.- If your wish is for me to be a Jedi, I will. I will be more than happy to have a family, a place where I belong, the thing I’ve always wished for to the Maker and stars…even if…if that means giving up love for it. I…I know nothing comes free, all has a price, otherwise it would be too good, too good in exchange of…nothing. I don’t want to, I want to learn, to have a…home…

 >>The word escaped your lips as if it were the most beautiful in the galaxy, and Obi Wan felt a dagger to the heart. “Home”, he had said that word to you, and he was just wishing with all his might that he didn’t have anything to do with you just giving up on love for a home.

 -And even if I would love that gift of paradise where I can learn without having to swear of love, without having to be a Jedi…I know I am asking just too much…too much in exchange of nothing. But I still dare to ask.

 >>When you stopped talking, the room went silent, and you closed your eyes just a second before opening them again, breathing in while every Master Jedi was speechless, all except Yoda, who was just looking at you with a worried look, wondering the futures he’s seen. And then, there was Obi Wan, feeling his chest tight and hurting from the wave of sadness that you took as if it was just a mild disturbance. What have you been through, so that such deep sorrow is so properly masked behind a single soundless tear? It hurt him just thinking about it. You stood there, not another word out of you while they took in all you had said. You looked over at Obi Wan and saw the pain on his face and your Force reached and caressed his, filled with care and appreciation, and even if his aura took it all in, it made him feel worst, how could you console him right now? It should be all the way around.

 >>You felt it and were utterly confused about his reaction. And it seemed like the only one who noticed your exchange was Yoda, smiling softly and being the one to break the silence.

 -Much to think about we have, dear Beatrice. Please. Let Master Obi Wan escort you out while we talk. Go, a while it might take.

 >>You nodded and walked towards Obi Wan. Your hand found the bend behind his elbow like before and only that seemed to bring him back a little, nodding in respect and leading you both outside. You didn’t stop once the big doors closed behind you two, instead you guided him to the gardens, coming to a halt when you had reached a calm corner with a stone bench. Still holding his arm, you sat down and only released him when he followed you and was resting at your side. Silence settled around you for a while, and you weren’t sure if he was sad, mad, disappointed…you couldn’t discern it, but…it felt chaotic and made you worry, so you brought your hand to rest on his, that was squeezing his knee tightly.

 -Obi Wan… -your voice was soft as his name rolled out of your lips. You squeezed his hand gently, a pinch of sadness finding your voice when you spoke again.- Have I done something wrong? If so…I am truly sorry. The last thing I want, is to bring sorrow to someone who has been so kind to me, so gentle and caring.

 >>When you blame yourself for how he feels and Obi Wan senses the light sadness dancing in your voice he punches himself mentally.

 -Don’t do that.

 >>You mutter and he blinks quite surprised, looking back at you. As his new emotion pushes the sadness aside a little, you smile at him.

 -I know what I’ve done to make you feel like that. I think I do but…it was the choice I made. If I can stay and learn without having to be a Jedi, without having to take the vows, I will be the happiest person on existence. But… -you slowly draw circles on the back of his hand with your thumb, finding the action way more soothing than you had ever imagined, at least for you.- But as I said, I know things don’t come for free. I don’t want to be alone again; I don’t want to be left in the dark about who I am and what all these energies mean. And I don’t want to give up on love …not when I know deep inside my soul that it would be the most wonderful thing the Force has to offer. But I had to choose. -you paused a second, taking in a deep breath, knowing that if you did have to swear off love, you would forever have an empty hole on your chest- Yes, I asked for everything, for them to consider giving me it all in exchange for nothing. But I had to let them know that I was truly grateful, that I respected your Creed and your rules and that it is just the Force calling me in a different way…and yet…that I would honor the Jedi if that is what they wanted.

 >>And then you noticed, you noticed the tears in Obi Wan’s eyes, and you panicked, even more than when he told you about having to talk to the Council. Your hands quickly cupped his cheeks, wide eyes filled with worry looking into his watery ones. And you felt something you had ever felt before, it was a pull, a need to make those tears stop, to make that good man smile and stop hurting by any means necessary. Your thumbs caressed his cheekbones softly, not sure if more physical contact would be ok with him.

 -Please…I am…so sorry, Obi Wan…really. I…

 >>You didn’t even know what to say, how could you console him when you couldn’t take back your words? It was the right thing to do for those who had saved you, for those who had given you a new chance in live.

 -Do not apologize, dear Tris…

 >>Obi Wan’s voice was coarse and weak due to his contained crying. He just thought you were too good, too kind… After all you had gone through one would be more selfish, trying to get all they wanted and more. And yet you…you just wished to learn without having to give up love. Such a simple and earnest request. Your deepest desire? A Home, people who care... How could his Order, the rules he had so devotedly followed and cherished, be the ones to probably keep you from that simple wish, that innocent desire? He hoped, he could just hope that your power would make them make an exception.

 -How can I not when I am making you feel such sadness when you have only been good and kind to me? You are the most wonderful man I’ve ever met…the last thing I want is for you to suffer. I…I’ll tell them I’ll leave.

 -What? -his eyes widened in disbelief and confusion-.

 -I don’t want to cause you pain…if my presence is…

 -Stop.

 >>You immediately pressed your lips and held totally still, a reaction marked on you with a burning iron, and it made him…angry. And that emotion surprised him. He was angry that someone had made you react like that to a simple word, even if said softly. You didn’t deserve that. He was sure of that.

 -I don’t want you to go. -he said, his voice deep and filled with confusion and a certain harshness you had never heard from him before- But I can’t stand the fact that you would just give up something you say is the core of everything just…to be here.

 -Obi I…

 >>He didn’t let you continue as he kept with his rambling, as if just saying it all out loud would help him calm his mind.

 -No. -as you remove your hands from his face, he envelopes them with his, a tight hold to make you look at him in the eyes- Just…I haven’t been so unable to control my emotions since I was just a young padawan, how…?

 -I…I don’t know. I am sorr- he squeezed your hands a little tighter to make you stop, though never hurting you-.

 -Stop apologizing. You’ve done nothing wrong, Tris. It is me. My confusion is making you suffer. I should have been the one to try and comfort you back in the Council meeting, and yet you were the one who did so to me. Now I should be holding your hand and telling you it will all be ok, and…

 >>He gestured with one hand to himself, to the mess he was at the moment, and at that you were the one crying in silence. Seeing him like that, was worst to you than all you had to say to the council.

 -And you are here holding my hand and crying for me, for something that doesn’t change your way of life. You have given me the greatest gift, Obi Wan… -you freed one hand and used you thumb to remove some of the tears on his cheek, though some had already made it to his beard- I will be alright, my dear friend. The only decision that would leave me heartbroken would be the one having me leave this place…and you. Either if it comes free or not, I want to stay here. -and even if you knew your heart would ache even if you could stay there; having to leave, never seeing him again, would be way worst, of that you had no doubt-.

 >>Tears were still raining from both of you, but softer, slower… Your Force was against his, and in that moment, you noticed it, they were so in sync, so well connected, maybe that was why you felt you could tell him about you, talk about anything without being afraid or nervous.

 -Obi… -he looked up at you and his look made clear he didn’t understand your smile- Close your eyes and feel our Forces…I thought we were supposed to meet…but now I know for sure.

 >>Your forehead met his, both with closed eyes and a soft smile painted on your lips, wet with tears. It was a wonderful sensation, as if it all made sense when you “saw” his light blue energy and your violet one entwine as if sharing all they had.

 -You have spent all your life repressing how you feel, trying to tone down your emotions…but I have always let them live and lash fully inside of me, just training to control how they manifested in the Force. So it is just natural that, when you feel what I feel, with the strength that I do, you get overwhelmed. But I am here for you, take a deep breath and just concentrate on our energies. Let me repay some of your kindness, my dear friend, you have already done so much for me.

 >>Obi did as told, but he really didn’t believe you had to repay anything, though he did need to calm down. He mirrored your breathing and when he managed to actually “see” your energies, he was rendered speechless and his tears stopped falling as on cue.

 -How is this?...

 -You tell me…If you don’t know, how am I supposed to have a clue? I can only say that it had never happened to me before, not even in the slightest. My energy did try and reach some, my parents, some other slaves but…the most that happened was a light caress that helped change their mood.

 >>Your voice was soft and only after you finished talking you dared open your eyes. What you found were Obi Wan’s blue stars fixed in your face so intently that you blushed deeply.

 -W-what is it? -you asked, blinking a couple of times and running your tongue along your bottom lip to try and make it less dry. Why were you so nervous? Yes, he was really close but it had been you who made that approach-.

 -It is…outstanding…you are outstanding. I’ve never met anyone like you in all the planets I’ve visited. If they won’t teach you…please, let me do it. -he was smiling softly again as you looked at him in disbelief-.

 -But…What will happen if you do? Oh Obi, I am nothing special, and even if I were, I can’t let you do something that will make you at odds with the Jedi Order. I…I wouldn’t forgive myself…

 >>Your Force caressed him lovingly. That man made you feel at ease, safe…at home. And as soon as you thought of that last word, you could have easily just stood up and run away in panic. You slowly moved back, getting some distance between you two, at least your foreheads weren’t touching and you blinked slowly, freeing your hands so they would rest on your lap, fingers fidgeting as you tried to remain calm. He noticed it, of course he did. Your Force had retreated inside of you so deeply he could barely feel it was even there, but before it had disappeared almost completely, he had sensed the panic in you.

 -Is everything alright, Tris? -he eyed you with concern- I am sorry if my offer was too much I…I didn’t want to overstep there.

 >>You shook your head, your eyes watery again as you started to feel quite anxious and lost. What to do? Tell him what popped in your head and risk him hating you? Would he laugh? Would he push you away, ending with you alone again? But…Was it fair for Obi Wan to keep him in the dark, maybe lie to him even, just to spare yourself? No. You would not lie to Obi Wan. Not now, not ever. He deserved all the good in the Galaxy, of that you were adamant. So you took a deep breath and looked into his eyes, trying to find some sort of comfort, the one he always gave you.

 -I…am worried, scared…more than one should be, feeling like I do… -you sighed deeply, lowering your gaze as you didn’t feel strong enough to hold his, more confused by the second- With you I feel the safest, happiest I have ever been in my whole life. A moment ago, I…I felt I was home. A-and I shouldn’t feel like that. -you were quick to add- You are a Jedi and…it can´t be. It doesn’t matter how wonderful you are, I can’t…

 >>You adjusted your position a little. Suddenly the stone bench seemed the coldest most uncomfortable place on the Galaxy, but you didn’t feel able to move, to stand up and leave. You were convinced Obi Wan wouldn’t want your company anymore but…you couldn’t just lie to him, pretend and say you were fine and paint a false smile on your lips, so…what’s done is done, you told yourself. You waited in silence, not even daring to look him out of the corner of your eye until you heard him take a deep breath and you shut your eyes tightly.

 -Yes…you can’t.

  >>You sensed as if he wanted to say or do more, so you waited, but he kept silent a moment longer and then stood up and left. He just walked away and disappeared inside the Temple and you felt as if you heart had sunk to the floor and down until it had reached the core of the planet where it melted. Your hands started shaking and you had to close your eyes, burying your hands on your red locks as you lowered your head so your forehead rested on your knees. You couldn’t do this; you couldn’t lose your control like you did when you were a kid. You didn’t want the Master Jedis to feel your anguish, your sorrow, that hole that was left in your chest as soon as Obi Wan left without a word. They couldn’t know how you felt or why it was, so you shut it down. You shut it down until all of you felt numb.

_________________________________

[indiavolowetrust]

Carajillo II

SUMMARY: The sequel to Carajillo, which you can read here. A coup d'etat has been staged in the Celestial Realm. The human proposes a plan to halt the impending war.

Part One: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Part Two: Coming Soon!

Part Three: Coming Soon!

TW: Blood, Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, Mention of Rape

PART ONE: CHAPTER SIX

The knife strikes with a steady, precise rhythm against the board, the pearly onions rendered to slices within moments. Then there are the leeks, shallots, garlic, and bunches of mint, all of which sit idly by the expansive chopping board. The bandages wrapped around my hands prove to be rather cumbersome in the task, reducing my efficiency -- but it is my experience that allows me to work deftly around the obstruction. It is likely that I would have to change the bandages at some point within the next hour: the crushing of the cumin, cinnamon, wild bulbs, and numerous other spices that I had found myself unable to name have both stained and left the bandages with a savory smell, leaving me currently unable to work with other meat. Or any other food, for that matter. I imagine that baking a butterscotch pie with traces of pork fat and savory spices would have little appeal.

Despite my best efforts, I find that the image of her is branded into my mind. Seared deep into the recesses of my memory, dredging up both unpleasant and pleasant thoughts. Her dark curls had spilled over her shoulders as I pressed her to me, and I was vaguely aware of the soft, full lips that laid beneath my fingers. The moonlight had illuminated her features in such a loving manner, embracing the soft brown tone of her skin, the shape of her curls, the dark pools of her eyes. Everything about her had been impossibly ravishing, even more so than usual. Had I not known she was only human -- a human spirit, to be exact -- I would have assumed she was a fellow demon who had come to seduce me. A succubus in the most innocuous sense of the word.

At that moment, I had wanted to do nothing more than devour her. To tear her apart in the most wonderful ways imaginable. To feel her body writhing beneath mine as I brought her to orgasm again and again, her pretty mouth letting out soft moans. To hear my name on her lips as her blunt, human nails rake down the skin of my back, the control of her body having fully lost itself in the sensation. To feel my own release paint her insides white. I had prided myself once on my ability to resist temptation, even against my own nature as a demon -- but I could not help but become undone at the sight of her loveliness. Despite the guilt --

A sudden warmth carves a path down my palm. I pull myself back into the present, forcing myself to focus on the sensation.

There is a rather nasty, painful cut on my thumb. The blood spills into the bandages. I watch with horror as the skin does not immediately knit itself back together, the wound remaining a fresh, vivid crimson.

* * *

The hours pass by much quicker than I expected. While the other kitchen staff are allowed nearly an hour of a break for lunch, lower servants such as I have only been given half an hour’s worth. The higher-ranking chefs couldn’t be bothered to do something as lowly as peel potatoes and chop onions, after all. I make a note to increase the pay and rest hours of the castle servants once I return to Lord Diavolo’s castle. There are only twenty-seven minutes and forty-two seconds until I must return to the kitchens. Twenty-seven minutes and forty-two seconds for me to scout the servants’ halls and whatever else I can find.

And so I make haste.

Maria’s instructions had been vague, given her general unfamiliarity of Sanctum’s layout -- but they are enough. The marble corridors, great columns, and alabaster sculptures pass by in a blur. My eyes flicker towards endless halls and gatherings of various servants as I make my way towards what should be the laundry room, paying little mind to the vicious, judgmental gazes of the paintings as I pass. Even with the aid of the Apple of Lies, there lies enough power left in the paintings for the forms to sense my presence. Given my innate sense of time, it is all too easy to discern the thoughts of the silent works of art, their words echoing in the back of my mind.

Impostor! Impostor! a plump, painted cherub wants to cry out. Its stare is both hateful and scathing. This one is an impostor!

Sinful, abhorrent demon, another wishes to spit. If the alabaster sculpture could shift its features or throw its voice, it would. I hope you rot in the ashes of your own guilt. Have you no shame?

You are but a simple, loathsome creature, says the carving of Samson, one of the Celestial Realm’s greatest demon-slayers. Who were you to play god? Who were you to make her suffer for your own ends? The human hates you! Detests you! Loathes you with every fiber of her being!

Or perhaps it is only my imagination.

True to Maria’s words, a relief of an archangel stands just outside of the laundry hall. The sounds of splashing water and falling garments can be heard from within. I stride just to the threshold of the room, catching sight of a ruddy-faced angel. He stands on the highest most step of a ladder and reaches towards a clothing line that has been strung up high on the ceiling. A sopping wet garment and a pair of pins are in his hands. I knock on the door.

The angel nearly falls off the ladder. The pair of pins clatter onto the floor, the garment meeting the surface with a squelch.

He regards me, eyes wide. “You -- you --” he stammers angrily, clutching the ladder, “-- you could have killed me, you idiot! Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?”

“I did knock.”

“You know what I meant!” The angel looks with frustration towards the fallen garment. He begins to clamber down the ladder, each step prompting another creak from the rickety object. “Now look what I’ve gone and done. The head laundress will have my neck for this, I assure you, and I’ll be sure to mention --”

“I’m looking for someone named Maria,” I lie. “Do you know where she is?”

He raises a bushy brow. “Maria?”

“Frizzy hair, frail, stands at approximately this height.” I gesture with my hands. “Have you seen her?”

He taps a sole finger on his chin, his free hand holding himself in place on the ladder. “Frizzy hair, you said?”

“Yes.”

“You must be talking about the little one, then. The head laundress sent her out back to gather some water for the washing.” He juts his chin towards the end of the room. A painted door stands wide open, the rays of sunlight nearly blinding me as I look towards it. “Don’t expect info like that to come free, though. In exchange for nearly killing me, lad, you can --”

I’m already halfway to the door.

The sunlight nearly blinds me as I step outside, flooding my vision with pure white. I find myself blinking in the aftermath, shielding my eyes against the sun. Thankfully, the effects do not last long. It is only nine seconds and twelve milliseconds before I am able to fully discern the image before me, the overgrown flora nearly obscuring the path. The nearly hidden path seems to have experienced little, if any, tending, reflecting only a few other areas of Sanctum. Areas that are less likely to be seen by high-ranking officials tend to be either under construction or completely unattended. Even the great hanging garden at the heart of Sanctum appears to have just experienced the fruits of the gardeners’ labor -- an aspect that the pale creature had checked on the first day of our arrival.

That indicates one of two options: one, the new empress has little control over her servants and people, thus leading them to be disobedient; two, the new empress has just come publicly into her position and has had little opportunity to exercise her power. If it were the latter -- which I would assume it is, given the general lack of unrest -- that would further indicate an unsteady balance of power amongst high-ranking officials.

If the new empress wants to keep her head, she’ll have to rule with an iron fist.

I continue onto the path, deftly avoiding the brambles and clumps of thorny flowers that seem to lunge at my feet. Five minutes and forty-one seconds later, the path finally opens into something a bit more spacious. A dry well sits in the middle of the space, a bucket having been long abandoned beside the stone structure. The sounds of activity can be heard beyond the weathered walls of the buildings that surround me. I press forward.

The sounds of activity, as it would turn out, originate from a rather extensive training yard. Despite its size, however, as well as my own biases towards those of the angelic persuasion, I must admit that its design is rather clever. The training yard is divided into exactly three levels, each of which is populated by a number of recruits testing the true might of their weapons. Swords ring out rather noisily against spears; another group trains with a smaller set of daggers. A stairwell leads up to each level, allowing convenient access to the space, while an observation deck sits some distance from the highest level. My gaze flickers instinctively towards the observation deck, inspecting the figures that stand there.

My eyes widen at the sight of the pale creature. A rather thick veil covers her visage, creating a shadow -- but it is obvious that she is having great difficulty discerning the finer details of the training. Her pink pupils shiver and waver under the assault of sunlight, and she squints. A slightly shorter angel stands beside her, her skin a deep, rich umber. A number of painted designs trail what skin is visible through her light robes, the fabric dyed surprisingly a vivid collage of orange and gold. Her long, braided hair is beset with gold coils. She lifts her hand to her mouth as she laughs, the multiple rings on her fingers gleaming under the sun, and her teeth --

I pause. I have never seen such a sharp, fearsome maw on an angel.

“Barbatos?”

I turn towards the noise, despite the nearly inaudible quality of it. Maria stands by a well that is situated on the far end of the training yard, hoisting a  sizable bucket of water under her arm. A number of curls fall from her low bun, making her appear disheveled, but she strangely shows no other signs of effort. Then again, the shadow created by the awning above does much to obscure her form. Her sudden vigor is likely my imagination.

What are you doing here? she mouths. Aren’t you supposed to be in the kitchen?

I tap my wrist, miming a wristwatch. She nods in understanding, positioning the bucket of water at her hip as she begins to make her way towards me from the well. Given the odd structure of the training grounds, she manages to pass where it is cooler in the shade.

Tomorrow, she mouths once more. As if I would forget. She manages the steps quickly, spilling only some of the water over the edge of the bucket. I am only vaguely aware of the racket of the training yard as Maria begins to near me.  If --

I sense the shift in the air before I hear the scream. The sharp reverberation of a blade, passing wildly through the air. The gasp of an onlooking recruit as they turn to witness the disaster that will be, their own reflexes and speed too underdeveloped to make a difference. My eyes only catch the vestiges of the image as the blade moves towards Maria, the human continues unaware down the steps, the balance of the bucket occupying her thoughts at the moment.

I lunge for her. The blade nicks my cheek as it passes by, slicing open the flesh -- then it is embedding itself audibly into the column beside us. Maria squeaks as she falls beneath me, releasing the bucket. It is only a moment before we are both soaked in its contents. I wrap a bandaged hand behind her head before we can both fall against the stone, disregarding the pain that is to come. It is, as anticipated, as unpleasant as I thought it would be: the flesh of my hand nearly tears itself open upon impact, the cut on my hand reopening within the confines of the bandages, and I can just barely see the blossoming of crimson. No matter. Maria’s head has not met the stone. Her body has likely produced no more than a few bruises.

It is six seconds and twenty-one milliseconds before I pull myself away from her. One hand propped up against the stone, the other cradling her head. Her eyes are still wide with shock, the dark, coiled strands sticking her forehead, but upon inspection I discern that she is unharmed.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

There is a clamor before us. I look in its direction, curious -- only to see the empress making her way down the stairs in her finery, the gold coils clinking against one another as she does so. A portion of her robes are gathered beneath her fingers, allowing her to move with haste. Combined with her many rings and golden bracelets, however, it is a wonder how her pace has not slowed from the sheer weight of her jewelry. Even more surprising is the worry that is etched on her features. The pale creature follows close behind, nearly soundless as she glides down one stair to another.

“Are you two alright?” the empress asks, stopping a mere distance from our fallen bodies. Her robes meet the stone once more as she releases them, falling with a hush. Her golden eyes -- the form of which also seems a bit strange, I note -- inspect both Maria and I thoroughly. They widen at the sight of my cheek, which has now been fully drenched in its own blood. “You are wounded, good angel!” she cries, bringing a hand to her mouth. The empress turns to the pale creature. “Oh, Gallatha -- Gallatha, my dear, come closer -- this one is wounded!”

The pale creature, Gallatha, nods. “It would appear that he is. I will send for a healer.”

“Send for the best one that we have, my dear,” she orders. “What if he expires?”

“My Divinity, I am sure that he will not expire at this very moment.”

Before I can react, the empress pulls me from my position and back onto my feet with astounding ease. She reaches for Maria as well, searching her for injuries as she does so, and frowns at the sight of lacerations on her knees and elbows. Maria fidgets awkwardly beneath her inspection, clearly unsure of how to react to the overbearing empress’ attention.

Her face flushes, her eyes quickly averting themselves from the empress’ gaze. “My -- My Divinity, I’m pretty sure that Boris and I are --”

“Oh, nonsense!” She ruffles Maria’s hair with ringed fingers, smiling with the grace of a benign monarch. “There’s no need to be so reserved, my dear girl. The days of that horrid system are now gone. I will ensure that the recruits are duly reprimanded for their carelessness. My advisor will ensure that you two are treated in the infirmary.” She turns to the pale creature. “Gallatha?”

Gallatha steps forward. “Of course, My Divinity.”

I cannot help but stare in disbelief.

According to what Maria could remember in limbo, the coup d’etat had seemingly been the work of one ravenous, powerful beast. A golden creature had stormed into the throne room one day, interrupting a private meeting between God and his council members. The grand doors had slammed against the marble walls with such ferocity that none could help but stare at the intrusion, the sound giving the act a sense of finality. The air of an execution. It was only after a moment that God had dared to speak from his throne.

Begone, foul creature! he had ordered, rising to his feet. You have no business here. Leave this place, and you shall leave here alive. Stay, and I shall smite you until you are no more than scorched earth!

The creature had only tilted its head in a curious manner, its teeth clicking together in terrible humor. Is that so? the creature had said, the sound of its precious stones and many golden coils echoing in the hall. Will you smite me, truly? You, an insect who dares to place himself above the affairs of men and beasts? You, a cowardly beast who has become obsessed with power? You are nothing more than a false idol. Your throne is no more worth than a bed of mud.

And then the great creature had thrown back its head and laughed, its maw shining in the divine light. God had ordered his guards to seize the blasphemous creature, demanding that it be executed at once. Declaring it to be an affront to the Celestial Realm itself.

But he had neither the foresight nor the knowledge to realize what this creature was.

The creature took God by the collar, dashed him against his own throne, and devoured him whole. All was silent for a moment, the screams of the desperate being dissipating to the air. The council, who had for so long reveled in the absolute power and control over the caste of the Celestial Realm, could only watch with horror. And then the golden, wondrous creature had turned to the council with an all-consuming hunger, licking its chops, and the throne room regressed into chaos.

Rich, sweet blood, pooling on the marble. Lumps and limbs scattered about, the bodies having been long torn asunder. The golden creature had lapped at the remnants, its maw a deep, vivid crimson. And then it had plucked the crown from the marble, the precious metal stained with the blood of its former owner, and settled upon the grand throne.

For all that Maria could not remember of her time in limbo, given her state, she had told me these things with the utmost confidence.

And so the kind, generous empress before me cannot possibly be the one who had staged the coup d’etat. She cannot be anything more than a figurehead. I find myself searching the empress’ smile before she is escorted away by her guards, searching for any signs of that terrible maw. Yet there is nothing but the image of her plump, smiling cheeks, her teeth very decidedly not sharp and horrible, her genuine, kind gaze, and her array of golden adornments.

END OF PART ONE

[fanfictionaries]

Thank You

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC (platonic), Bucky Barnes x OFC

Summary: Things are difficult for Annie after the snap, more than anyone realized. 

Words: 2K

Warnings: Swearing, suicide, depression, grief

Author’s Note: I’ve been in a really weird head space all weekend. I had to channel it all through this bit of writing. I bawled like a baby writing this, so I hope you like it! 

***

It was a quiet night in Brooklyn. The nights always seemed so quiet now. Now that everyone was gone. Annie was sat on the fire escape, trying not to shiver at the light breeze that blew past her. It was mid-November and the weather was beginning to have a bite, especially at night. She hugged the jacket tighter around herself. His jacket. She liked to imagine that it still smelled like him, but after so many months of constant wear, it pained her to realize that the only scent it held was hers. It was one of the many things she had still relucted to give up. To move on from. She tried to remember the times that they would sit together out there and just look up at the sky. They would talk for hours about what life was going to be like for them. Now, all of that was gone and it was her. Just her.

On the outside, she really did look like she had it together. After everything was said and done, she’d taken a week to really grieve. To shut herself away and cry, but very quickly after she realized that nothing was going to change what had happened. Especially after Steve and the others had returned to tell everyone that Thanos and the stones were gone. Any hope of any of them returning was gone. She’d gone back to work. She’d connected with the friends and family that had survived. Hope, she told them. Hope for a better future and a brighter tomorrow. The ones they loved were gone, but they were still there. It was a gift and they shouldn’t squander it. The people they lost would want them to continue on. Everyone praised her. They told her they were encouraged by her strength. Grateful for her ability to rise above the grief and be there for those that could not.

She was such a liar. It was getting harder every day. Harder to lie through her to teeth to everyone around her. Harder to pretend like every moment that he wasn’t there didn’t feel like a slow, torturous death. Who was she to tell people that they should move on? She still lived in the same apartment they had shared. All of his things sat where he’d left them. The book he’d been reading still sat on the counter. The socks on the bathroom floor still laid behind the door. The sheets on their bed the same ones since before he’d left. They hadn’t been changed in almost a year and while Annie knew it was gross and unhygienic, she just couldn’t bring herself to take them off.

Slowly she dragged herself back through the window and into her apartment. Her feet and legs numb from the cold almost giving out under her. Tired. She just felt so tired all the time. Entering the small bathroom of the one-bedroom apartment, she stared at the toothbrush in the cup next to hers. His toothbrush. A deep and aching pang shot through her chest and she had to brace herself on the counter to keep from collapsing. Looking up into the mirror, she tried to recognize the person staring back, but it just felt like a stranger. A person she did not know. A tired, broken person. How could no one else see it?

All day long, she wore a mask of acceptance and happiness when in reality it was just that. A mask. And she couldn’t do it anymore. So many people had gone. Disappeared. What was one more?

She didn’t know if it was fate. Destiny. God? That made Steve decide to come by that night. He hadn’t been by since he’d gotten back from Wakanda. Since they’d lost everyone. Annie always assumed it was too hard for him. She didn’t blame him; she knew exactly how hard it was. She knew exactly how hard it was to be in a place that used to be so full of warmth and love and for it to feel empty. Foreign. Cold.

Steve had knocked on the door, holding some Chinese takeout from down the street and a 6-pack of beers. Annie wasn’t expecting him, but Steve knew that she was home most nights and that she often forgot to eat dinner. It was after the 5th time knocking that he began to worry. It was too early for her to be in bed. She could have been out, but something just hadn’t felt right to him. Pulling out his keys, he used the spare they had given him for emergencies only. The apartment was cold and dark. The lights were out and the window in the living room open, letting the chill fall air in. Setting his stuff down onto the kitchen island, he rushed to close the window and then looked around him. It was quiet.

“Annie?” he called out into the depths of the dark space.

Turning on a few lamps, he felt an unease take over him as he took in the space. Every trace of him was still left untouched; clothes, keys, wallet, all of it sitting like he’d never left. Dishes sat piled high in the sink. Mugs and cups littered the coffee table and counters. Peeking into the bedroom, he found piles of dirty clothes and a stale scent in the air, like he’d opened a time capsule.

“Annie?” Steve called again; this time louder.

Entering further into the room, he saw the bathroom light on and the door slightly ajar. He didn’t have to walk into the room, to feel his stomach sink and know that whatever was in there wasn’t going to be good. He rushed towards the door on instinct, falling to his knees on the cold tile when he saw what was behind it.

“Oh Annie. No,” his voice wavered and cracked as if his heart was being ripped from his chest. He pulled her limp body off of the tile and into his arms.

“What did you do? Huh? What did you do?” he asked, looking down at her closed eyes and parted lips. The orange prescription bottle next to them caught his eye. Picking it up, he looked at the label through teary eyes. Pain medication. From when she had broken her arm a year before ice skating. She had refused to take it. It was empty.

“No, Annie. Come on,” he shook her. He needed her to wake up. God, he needed her to wake up. He shook her harder, tapping her face with his open hand. Nothing. He tapped her again, this time bordering on a full-on slap, but he didn’t care. He just needed her to wake up.

“Wake up, Annie. Wake up. Don’t do this. Don’t do this.”

“Steve?” it was quiet. A whisper.

He looked down, her eyes open the slightest fraction, bleary and unfocused. It wasn’t much, but it was something. It was her.

“Come on, sit up sweetie. Sit up,” said Steve, propping her up so she leaned head-first into the toilet.

“I need you throw it all up. Come on, that’s a good girl,” he had pleaded and cooed as he shoved his fingers down her throat, forcing her to wretch up the vile pills. And she did. They sat there on that bathroom floor until Steve was sure that she’d thrown up every last pill and every bit of stomach acid left in her. He’d placed a wet wash rag to her forehead and had her take tiny sips of water until she was finally coherent enough to be moved to the couch.

She was shivering, but her color was coming back and her vitals seemed alright. Apparently, he had gotten there just in time. Any longer and the pills would have dissolved more into her system. Steve turned the heat up in the apartment and grabbed every blanket he could find, before wrapping her and pulling her onto his lap on the couch. They sat there for hours. Neither of them saying anything. Just them and the silence and a cold, empty apartment.

“I’m sorry,” said Annie, her apology faint but cutting through the thick air around them.

She felt Steve take in a deep and shaky breath, “Why Annie? After everything, after everyon-” he choked on the words, swallowing thickly, “I can’t lose you too.”  

The words hung in the air, filling Annie with an emotion she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Anger.

She flung herself from the blankets and Steve’s embrace and began to pace the room. “Why?! Why Steve?!” she yelled, really yelled at him; the man in front of her stunned into silence by her reaction.

“Do you honestly have to ask me why?! I am drowning Steve. I’m fucking drowning without him. I don’t eat. I don’t sleep. I can barely get myself out of bed in the morning because it means having to face another day without him and no one has noticed,” Tears began to stream down her face, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. The dam had burst, and everything came rushing out. Everything she had been keeping in for the last eleven months.

“Every day I walk out that door and I put on a smile and I tell people that everything’s going to be okay and that we should move on, but I can’t. I can’t! It’s like there’s this black hole where my heart used to be and any day it’s just going to swallow me up and…”

She felt her knees buckle under her and she collapsed to the floor, holding the worn jacket tighter around, “I just miss him, so much.”

“Oh Annie,” Steve’s voice was a whisper of sadness and regret as he rushed to her side and pulled her into his arms, “I’m so sorry. I should have been there. I should have been there for you. I should have known-I just, I miss him too. I miss him too.”

They stayed like that, wrapped into each as they both sobbed, finally feeling like they could express the loss they had both been feeling for so long.

They had found themselves on the floor the next morning. Their backs ached, but their hearts felt lighter as sunlight filled the small space around them. Then they got to work. Sheets were changed. Dishes were cleaned. Clothes were washed and put away. Annie had even found the will to put the radio on again as they worked. They scrubbed the tiny 900 square foot apartment till it shined. But most importantly, his things were put away. All his books, his clothes, his keys and wallet, stored in boxes and put away in the closet. The two had made the unspoken decision that she would no longer live in a museum of what once was. A new day and a new future. For both of them.

Annie had just stepped out of her room, freshly showered and dressed when she saw his jacket laying across the back of the couch. Slowly, she approached it, touching the soft brown leather with her fingertips.

“I figured…” Steve spoke up, walking up behind her, “not everything had to go. It’s okay to still hang on to somethings.”

Annie nodded, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as tears began to well in her eyes. She clutched the jacket to her chest, hugging it tight and bringing it up to her face, she realized that it smelled like him once again. She swung around, looking at Steve with a confused expression.

“How—"

“I may have found some of his old cologne when I was cleaning out the bathroom. I figured you’d—oof!” Steve was cut off by Annie as she flung herself into his arms, hugging him tight.

“Thank you,” she spoke into his chest.

[nothing-i-can-do-now-i-guess]

Heyo! Kia, 21, female. Looking for another rp since most of mine seemed to have dried up. EST time zone, though my schedule is currently being weird, but I should be able to respond a few times a day. Sometimes just a few per week. I am a pretty detailed writer, focusing a lot on character introspection so I ask that you are at least similar in that regard. I write about 2-4 paragraphs on average and can write more. It really just depends on what’s happening in the rp. Dark themes, blood and violence may be present in the rp. I don’t write smut, I will only fade to black. Please be 18+. (On a side note, I’ve done all of this on my phone so I don’t know how the format looks. I apologize in advance if it’s too long and/or messy.)

Made a vampire oc for no reason. Now i have nothing to fo with her so I’m gonna see if I can get an rp going with her. If any of my plots involving her interest you or you have any plots of your own feel free to message me. Or interact with this post and I’ll contact you.

Name: Magdalena Cirila Kovac

Nickname: Mag, Lena, Maggie

Species: Vampire

Gender: Female

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

Born: Sometime during the Middle Ages

Occupation: Depends on plot. Medieval times she’s a hired mercenary or hunter, Modern she’s the leader of her own vampire coven. She could be a monster hunter in any time period really.

Genres: Fantasy/Supernatural, Drama/Angst, Medieval, Romance, Adventure, Modern

Appearance:

Normal Form: 5’8, athletic build, pale skin, light freckles, long wavy dark red hair with even darker ends, bright green eyes. Beauty mark underneath the left corner of her mouth. Canines are only slightly elongated. Looks like a human in her mid to late 20s

Other Form: skin becomes deathly pale and black veins appear on her face and shoulders, scleras turn black and corneas turn bright red, all her teeth become razor sharp, nails turn into claws

Abilities:

Immortality: No longer has a lifespan. She can not age at all. Because she is undead she does not have to worry about any illness

Superhuman Physiology: Strength, Stamina, Agility, Senses, Durability

Accelerated Healing: Can heal from any normal injuries within seconds, larger wounds take a few minutes and may require her to feed to restore energy. Can come back from death from exposure to sunlight with blood

Metamorphosis: Can call upon a large swarm of bats to do her bidding. She can also transform into a swarm of bats and back at will. All of her clothes and weapons will transform along with her body. The bats can be used to charge her enemies in an attack.

Mesmerism: Possess the ability to coerce and control humans to do her bidding as long as she makes eye contact. However if someone has a strong enough will they may be able to break from her control or may not even be able to fall under her control.

Darkness Manipulation: Can generate and manipulate the darkness at will. As she ages the power grows stronger and can be used to cover larger and larger areas for longer periods of time.

Vampirism: She has the ability to turn others into vampires if they drink some of her blood. However it is not a guarantee that they will survive the transformation. Her blood is considered a poison to humans and will rapidly begin to kill someone once ingested. Some die in the process, if they survive then they will become a vampire. Anyone that she turns forms an attachment to her and cannot go against a direct order from her nor can they cause her physical harm. Any attempts to do either will result in an intense pain. She can however free them from her control at any time.

Swordsmanship: Mag is a very skilled swordsman, even before she became a vampire. Along with her powers she is a force to be reckoned with

Weaknesses:

Sunlight: Being exposed to sunlight can cause her skin to burn and blister, leaving her weak and unable to walk. If exposed for too long then she will begin to deteriorate into a charred corpse. However she can be brought back with some blood. She can go out during the day as long as she sticks to the shadows and will be fine to wander if it’s a cloudy day.

Wood: A sharp piece of wood to the heart can weaken and kill her. Sharp wood to the heart will cause her body and clothes to rapidly decay and disintegrate, ending up as a fossil like corpse with scraps of clothes left

Silver: Silver burns upon contact with her skin. If in the presence of a large amount of silver it will weaken her enough so that she is practically human. The very sight of silver can leave her vision blurred and dampened her hearing. As she ages it will become less of a problem.

Religious Items/Places: Religious items give off an intense light that burns enough for vampires to fear it. Though older vampires only see a bright light that causes slight discomfort at most. She is not able to enter holy grounds and if she does so it causes great pain. Holy water is like silver, burning a vampires skin upon contact

(Garlic: Not really a weakness, it’s more so like with lactose intolerance. She shouldn’t eat it since she won’t feel great later on but it tastes really good and is a risk she’s willing to take.)

Background:

Magdalena was born the only child of the King and Queen of Hungry during the Middle Ages. After one too many assassination attempts on her life during her teenage years, Magdalena was given a personal bodyguard who was training a younger, recently hired guard. The two would watch over her as she went about her days in the castle. Over time she grew close with the newer guard, eventually the pair fell in love but kept it a secret.

An attack on the castle one night led to the deaths of her father and the older guard assigned to her. Her lover was promoted to be her new head guard and worried for her safety, he began to teach her how to swordfight in secret. Rumors of another invasion reached the castle and it was decided not long after that Magdalena would marry sooner so that the people may have a king to lead them.

Not having much of an option, Magdalena finally revealed her feelings for her guard and demanded to be married to him or she would abdicat her rights to the throne and leave. Not wanting to lose her daughter, the Queen agreed to Magdalena’s terms. The pair were married and quickly crowned the new King and Queen. The King went off to fight in the war and returned home with a victory. Though a few more attempts at conquering them happened over the years, putting a strain of the kingdom as a whole. Not wanting to just sit idly by, Magdalena took on a vigilante persona early on in her time as Queen to help defend her people.

Years later she would give up vigilantism to raise her son along with her husband. They were allowed a few years of peace due to a treaty with neighboring kingdoms that did not last forever as their allies were being invaded and taken over with this new enemies eyes turning toward them.

In an attempt to save her family and kingdom, Magdalena did extensive research on any possible help and found a lead. In the middle of the night she disappeared to find help. The trail led her to a powerful vampire that agreed to give her power to save everyone she cared for only if she agreed to help them seek revenge against those that wronged them. This meant that she would have to leave her family behind forever, but also she could protect them. So with a heavy heart she agreed to their terms, sacrificing her own life to save those she cared for.

With her newfound power, Magdalena was able to kill the leader of the invading army, thus stopping the invasion of her kingdom but could not return home. So she allowed everyone to think she was dead. As per her agreement, she followed her new sire and helped him take revenge, learning about her new abilities as she did so. After spending long enough time by his side and no longer being needed, he finally freed her from his control, allowing Magdalena to leave and do as she wished. By now her family had long since died of old age and all she could do now was roam for the rest of eternity. With him being the only constant in her life she decided to stay for a while until she felt comfortable enough to strike out on her own.

Plot Ideas: These are all pretty vague ideas I had that can be expanded on. Of course if you have your own ideas I’m more than willing to listen to them. Or we could even combine them with one of my ideas. They can take place during anytime period except for Plot B.

Plot A: A VampirexWerewolf plot. It could be that one of our characters has recently moved their coven/pack onto the others territory and they’ve been having a lot of disputes between each other’s group. So in order to try and get some semblance of peace our characters agree to get together and discuss a shaky truce. The two start running into each other more and form an unexpected friendship that eventually leads to more. Slow burn, FxAny Gender

Plot B: Can explore an unlikely familial relationship between Magdalena and the person who turned her into a vampire. Explore how the two get along. Maybe also figure out who it was that wronged your character and why the two are hunting that person (or group of people) down. I literally know nothing about this character so you’re basically free to do whatever you want with them. Platonic, found family dynamics

Plot C: Fake Relationship plot. Your character is a pure blooded vampire royal that is being forced to marry someone in order to inherit the throne. Thankfully they get to choose who but they aren’t interested in anyone. Enter my character. The two agree to enter a fake relationship that allows your character to get the throne and my character gets a place she can unwind at. Could be that my character isn’t approved of by the council and they have to get around that. Slow burn FxAny Gender

Plot D: My character is a well known hunter and is hired to hunt down your character and arrest them. Finding your character is easy, getting them back to where they need to be is the hard part. Either because your character is very difficult or because someone else is hunting your character down to kill them. Could either be FxAny Gender romance or it could be platonic

Style: Depends on time period

Medieval

Modern

[kmseokjins]

Thunderlight (Chapter 5)

Fandom: BTS Pairing: BTS x Reader / OT7 x Reader Warnings: minor cussing, suggestive themes (wiggles eyebrows) Summary: A mysterious masked man with golden eyes pays you a visit. The boys discuss new information.

Thunderlight (n): Lightning; a bolt or flash of lightning.

Archive Of Our Own || Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Notes: This chapter is 3.7k words (literally just shy of 3.8k words). This chapter wasn’t originally what I planned for this chapter, but well, here we are, thanks to a certain someone who had to make himself known. <3

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You always hated the lavish parties that your parents threw at least once a month. It meant that the large mansion would be overrun with like-minded people like your parents. It made you feel on edge, made your skin crawl.

Tonight isn’t your first. You’ve attended dozens by now, subjected to the sneers and jealous looks from the highest nobility that witch families had to offer. Your parents spared no expense when it came to such parties: only the finest food and drinks lavished nearby tables, champagne glasses full of the soft golden liquid, staff dressed in silken shirts and black pants. The invited guests spared no expense either: the men dressed in their finest suits and the women dressed in dresses of all sorts of different colors.

As the eldest daughter, the dress you wore was always picked out by your mother. You had worn many different dresses over the years, from different styles to different colors. You had been relieved when the dress laid out on your bed when you’d returned from your lessons earlier today hadn’t been a ballgown. You always wanted to strangle yourself with the offending material. No, tonight’s dress was a floor length navy blue satin, the upper bodice beaded and v-necked [CLICK HERE FOR DRESS]. You raised your eyebrows at the split down the back when you’d inspected it closer. This was...daring. Then again, your mother had a flare for the dramatic and she took pleasure in torturing you. It was exhausting to fight her on such matters, and even more so if she brought your father into it. You played the part of dutiful daughter, slipping into the dress and silver heels hours later once you were ready.

At least it wasn’t a ballgown again.

As the night dragged on, you longed to escape back to your room. Your mouth hurt from the fake smiles and laughs you’d been forced to keep, especially when you felt the heavy stare of your father’s attention. He had especially been keeping an eye on you tonight; it was the most he had ever paid attention to you in years. You kept up appearances for your own sake, knowing that if you should falter, your father was not known for his mercy. You knew better than to embarrass him in front of guests. So, you smiled and danced with countless men who offered their hands to you throughout the night. You kept your answers short and sweet, letting the men who held you close carry the conversations as they spun you around the dancefloor.

“May I have this dance?”

Your attention had been on the double doors of the ballroom, dreaming of slipping from this torture when the voice drew you back to the present. You blinked several times at the man standing before you, clothed in a suit much like the other countless men in the room. Your eyes are most drawn to the black and gold mask covering the upper half of his face from your view; he isn’t the first guest you’d observed with such a mask, but you couldn’t help but admire the delicate swirls of gold against the black. It was truly unique.

“Of course,” You murmur, placing your hand in his and allowing him to draw you from your chair and out onto the dancefloor. He brings you near the center of the dance area, a hand resting on your hip and the other holding your hand in his. You place your free hand gently on his shoulder, and allow him to set the pace to the music.

You find yourself staring at him as he guides both of you around the other dancers on the floor. He moves like he was born to dance, and you find yourself at ease in his grip for the first time in...years. The stranger doesn’t seem to mind that you’ve been staring, a smile curling his lips when he notices the sudden red flush to your cheeks.

“Who are you?” You ask suddenly, not able to shake the nagging feeling that you’ve seen him before, that you should know who he is.

“An admirer.” He answers, the hand on your hip slipping around towards your lower back and drawing you closer against him.

“An admirer? Of me?” You’re taken back by his words, even though you had heard such words before from other men who danced with you. His felt...sincere. Not forced for the sake of gaining something. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” You must have, however. How else would you feel like you’d seen him before? “I don’t think you would be easy to forget.”

“Are you surprised? You are beautiful, breathtaking.” The smile on his lips never leaves, his hand squeezing your hand in his grip gently.  His words send your heart fluttering within your chest. “It’s the mask, isn't it? I’m quite fond of it myself. Brings out my eyes.” He chuckles softly, and you can’t help but smile at the sound.

“May I ask why you’re hiding behind it?” You briefly glance away from him to survey those around you, although no one seems to be paying the least bit of attention to the two of you, before your eyes are drawn back to his.

“Perhaps I’m shy,” He’s turning you both again, dancing between two other couples with ease as he brings you both back towards the center.  

“Shy?” You question in surprise, reaching up with the hand that had been resting on his shoulder towards his mask. You feel him tense as you brush your fingers over the cheekbone of the mask, “I don’t think a shy man would wear such an intricately designed mask. I’m sure every woman in this room is watching you.” You start to lower your hand back towards his shoulder, but you’re stopped by his fingers curling gently around your wrist.

“Unfortunately, I only have eyes for one woman in this room.” The air in your lungs leaves in a rush at his answer, eyes moving from the sight of his fingers around your wrist to lock eyes with him. Where his eyes were once dark brown, they were now a molten gold. If you hadn’t felt like you couldn't breathe before, now you definitely couldn’t.

“Your eyes,” You finally manage to whisper into the silence between you both. The longer you stared at his gold eyes, the more it felt like everything around you just faded away. You had never come across anyone with gold eyes, nor could you recall ever reading such things in a book. It had been a given that he wasn’t human, but you were fairly certain he wasn’t a witch. “They’re…”

You open your mouth to question him, but in the blink of an eye, his once golden eyes are back to the dark brown they’d been before. Had you been imaging that? You searched his face for any kind of clue, but his expression hadn’t changed; his lips were still curved into a smile. A knowing smile.

To gather your thoughts, you turned your head slightly to look anywhere else but him, barely taking in the blur of faces around you before you caught sight of a familiar face among the crowd as you both stopped as the song faded to an end.

You froze, the hand clasped in his squeezing as a shiver raced up your spine. You locked eyes with the familiar man across the ballroom, and a cruel smile curls his lips at your attention, and his eyes flash completely black.

Your mystery dancer doesn’t seem surprised by your sudden fear, his thumb gently brushing back and forth on your wrist, “What is it?” He questions, “What do you see?”

“Asa.” You breathe, your throat tightening in fear and your heart hammering in your chest. What was he doing here? He wasn’t supposed to be here. You have the urge to bolt, but your mystery man keeps you in his hold. “I-I have to get out of here, I can’t let him touch me.”

“Breathe, [Name]. He isn’t really there.” He whispers against your ear, turning you around so you’re no longer facing one of your worst fears. His eyes are golden again, and you can’t help but be drawn to them once more. You close your eyes when his forehead presses against yours, “I’ve stayed too long, I’m sorry.” His lips brush your forehead seconds later before you feel him slip away.

*******

You open your eyes to watch him go, but you suddenly find yourself staring up at the familiar ceiling of your apartment, rays of early morning sunlight filtering through the windows.

A dream...but a memory. You remember that dress; you’d worn it to one of your parents parties two months before your 19th birthday.  There had been no such masked stranger at any of the parties you had attended.

It had been a dream, right? The lingering feel of his skin against yours almost conveniences you otherwise.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Hoseok.”  Jin.

No. He doesn’t want to leave yet. He can't.

“Hobi-Hyung." Jimin. "Let go.”

Hoseok ignored the melodic pull of the siren’s voice against his ear, refusing to disentangle himself when he could feel the fear rolling off you in waves. He knew he’d stayed too long in your dreamscape when something had suddenly drawn your attention. Hoseok knew better than to overstay his welcome, especially if his intent wasn’t to evoke fear in the dreamer.

He hadn’t meant to insert himself into the dream at all; he only came to observe. It wasn’t hard to tell that this dream wasn’t any ordinary dream, no, it was partly a memory too. You looked young, several years younger than you were now. It had intrigued him almost instanty, a rare look into a memory of yours. He knew nothing about you; correction, they knew nothing about your past. You’d come from a rich background it seemed, if the extravagance of the party was anything to go by. He’d heard your introduction, heard the whispers that you were Councilman [L/N]’s daughter.

He watched you being drawn out to the dancefloor more often than he would have liked throughout the night. You weren’t hard to find among the crowd of dancers, not with that navy blue satin dress. Hoseok had been more than content to observe, but the hellhound was less than inclined to do so.

He’d grown impatient.

Before Hoseok knew it, he was stalking across the ballroom and approaching where you had been sitting for several minutes by yourself. At least the hound had the sense to conjure up the mask before getting too close and drawing your attention. The hound was beyond pleased with himself when he had finally been able to draw you into his arms; he hadn’t liked the sight of another man with his hands on you. Only his. Only his other mates.

The banter you shared with each other had went well; Hoseok carefully avoided giving too much away. Humans often didn’t remember their dreams, but his presence often increased the odds of remembering. Afterall, it was how he hunted.

Hoseok couldn’t hold off the inevitable that happened when he entered someone’s dreamscape: dreams turned into nightmares. He knew the second your dream twisted into a nightmare. You’d locked eyes with something over his shoulder, and he could feel the fear radiating off you in waves. For the first time in his long life, the hound was repulsed by the fear. He hated it. It made him sick.

His thumb brushes back and forth over your wrist in a soothing gesture, “What is it?” Hoseok can’t help but question, “What do you see?”

“Asa.” He can hear your heart hammering in fear as soon as the name slips from your lips, and he stiffens. Asa . The fear has a name.  He holds you in place against him, feeling your body jerk as it prepares to run, to get as far away as you could from whatever had manifested into the dream. “I-I have to get out of here. I can’t let him touch me.”

Hoseok bristles at your choice of words, intent on finding out just who this Asa person was that had you in such terror.  “Breathe, [Name]. He isn’t really there.” He murmurs against your ear, turning on his heel to put your back to your fear, his golden eyes searching the crowd. He catches sight of the source of your fear, and Hoseok isn’t prepared for what he sees.

Pitch black eyes. Handsome. A cruel smile. A demon .

Surely not.

“Hobi-Hyung, please.” Jimin’s melodic voice is back again, stronger this time. The hound whines at the pull of one of his mates, but he can’t leave you just yet.

Hoseok presses his forehead to yours, gently releasing your wrist, “I stayed too long. I’m sorry.” He hadn’t meant to stay long enough to twist the dream. He can’t help but brush his lips over your forehead before he releases you and melts into the crowd. He suddenly feels empty.

********

Hoseok snaps his eyes open seconds later, lips parting to gasp for air, fingers gripping the arm across his chest as an anchor.

“Finally,” Jimin breathes against the shell of his ear, pulling away to look down at his elder with relieved eyes.  “You were gone for so long,” The siren reaches up to brush Hoseok’s hair from his damp forehead.

“Did you find her?” Jin’s voice draws Hoseok’s attention to his other side, where the eldest paces alongside the bed.

Hoseok nods, “Yes.” He groans as he pulls himself to sit up before he swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands, before he steps around Jin to head for the bedroom door.

Jin immediately swings around to track the hound, following him out into the hallway, Jimin close behind. “Is something wrong, Hobi? What did you see?”

Hoseok doesn’t answer him, stepping just outside when the bathroom door opens and the silver haired werewolf he was going to look for emerges, towel wrapped around his waist.

Namjoon stops when he spots the three standing feet away, raising his eyebrows, “What?”

“We-,” Hoseok immediately snaps his mouth shut when Taehyung steps out of the bathroom behind Namjoon. Naked.

“Taehyung, what are you doing? Put some clothes on!” Jin fusses at the vampire from beside Hoseok.

“I just took a shower, Hyung.” The vampire snickers as he presses against Namjoon’s back, arms wrapping around the werewolf as he nuzzles his shoulder, eyes flashing red as he bats his eyelashes at the three innocently, “I’m too wet for clothes.”

“That’s why we have towels, Taehyung-ah!” Jin chides in return, oblivious to the mischievous glint in the vampire’s eyes.

“Hmm...I forgot to grab a towel,” Taehyung grins against Namjoon’s shoulder, his hands slipping down towards the top of the towel on the werewolf’s waist, fingers gripping the material, “Can I borrow yours, Joonie-Hyung?”

Namjoon’s lips twitch before he’s reaching down to grab the vampire’s hands, pulling them free from his towel, “Behave, Taehyung,” He scolds the younger softly, ignoring the pout Taehyung sends his way before Namjoon settles back on Hoseok. “Hobi?”

“I visited [Name]’s dreams last night,” Hoseok immediately answers,. “I intended to only observe,” He’s quick to explain himself, especially when Namjoon’s eyes narrow, “but the hound had other ideas. We hide our identity.”

“What happened?” Namjoon prompted Hoseok, rolling his shoulders at the feeling of Taehyung pressing his lips against his skin.

“It was a memory. She was young, maybe late teens. Her father is some kind of Councilman.” Hoseok shifted uneasily, “It was fine for a while, but I didn’t realize I had stayed too long.” Hoseok didn’t miss the way Taehyung suddenly stilled behind Namjoon, and Hoseok kept his attention solely on Namjoon, “She was terrified.” He wanted to shudder at the feeling of her fear rushing over him.

“Did you see what it was?” Taehyung voices the words instead of Namjoon, his chin resting on the werewolf’s shoulder.

Hoseok nods, letting the silence stretch between the five of them. Jimin nudges against Hoseok’s side, hand sliding down to intertwine their fingers together, “What was it, Hobi-Hyung?”

“A demon.” The word demon tastes sour in his mouth, and he can feel the sudden mood change in the air almost immediately.

Jimin gasps beside him, and Hoseok knows that Jin had immediately bristled as soon as the word left his mouth. Namjoon raises his eyebrows in surprise, while Taehyung looks thoughtful.

“You’re sure?” Namjoon prompts, sharing a look with Taehyung out of the corner of his eye.

“I know a demon when I see one. It was only a figment of her imagination, so I can’t tell you how powerful or what kind of demon he is.”

“The friend she was meeting at the club…” Namjoon mutters out loud, but Taehyung shakes his head.

“She wasn’t afraid of this friend when she mentioned them. The club doesn’t permit demons inside. They have precautions to prevent them from entering.” Taehyung pauses a moment, “I’m pretty sure she was meeting the witch.”

“The witch? What witch? What club?” Jin interjects, looking back and forth between Namjoon and Taehyung with narrowed eyes.

“Club Fallen.” Taehyung answers, shrugging his shoulders, “I go there sometimes to grab a bite.” He ignores the sudden flare of Jin’s nostrils at the admission, “I ran into [Name] there a week ago. She was meeting a friend. At least, that’s what she told me.”

“We’re missing something.” Hoseok pipes up, pausing when the door down the hall abruptly opens and Yoongi emerges from his room.

Yoongi glares at the five of them in turn before he speaks, “You’re all too loud.” He grumbles, squinting up at the lights with distaste. He blinks at the sight of Namjoon and Taehyung, his lips twitching into a smirk at the towel-wrapped werewolf and naked vampire. His chest rumbles in appreciation at the sight.

“Are we having a meeting, hyungs?” Jungkook shuffles down the hallway from the opposite direction, hair sticking up in all directions. Jimin releases Hoseok and immediately latches onto the youngest member, cooing softly as he fusses at the maknae’s bedhead hair. “Did Hobi-Hyung say demon?”

“It appears [Name] is somehow involved in the supernatural world,” Namjoon rubs a hand over his face with a sigh, “It’s both...relieving and frustrating.” If you knew about the supernatural world, it decreased the odds of them sending you screaming and running the opposite way. On the other hand, if you didn’t exactly know anything, it made their job much harder. Not to mention what your history was with the demon. “First her blood, now somehow there’s a demon involved.”

“You know, if I could bite her and get more of her blood, I could figure that part out…” Taehyung trailed off, side eyeing Namjoon, “Those measly two drops wasn’t nearly enough.”

Namjoon snarled at his vampire mate, “No.” Taehyung shuddered at the command, well aware the others had too. Taehyung put his hands up in mock surrender as Namjoon continued to glare at him.

“Could we somehow get Namjoon an audience with the witch?” Yoongi directed his question at the vampire, ignoring the looks from the other five.

Taehyung raised his eyebrows at his hyung, “I….I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not? She’s just a witch.” Jungkook asked, drawing Taehyung’s attention to the young werewolf.

“Arshkia isn’t just a witch. A witch is never just a witch, especially not Arshkia. She’s old as hell, powerful as hell, and she knows everything.” Taehyung ignored the wide-eyed look Jungkook was sporting now, “I’ve managed to stay under her radar and I don’t want to draw her attention if the rumors about her are true.”

“What?”

Taehyung groans out loud at the need for elaboration from Jin, “There’s been a rumor on the streets that she collects...soulbonds.” Jin chokes at his words, but Taehyung continues, “There’s seven of us in a soulbond. That makes us pretty damn special. If we add [Name]...that’s an eight member soulbond. There’s only a handful of soulbonds with more than six.”

“Collects them? Like baseball cards!?” Jungkook stiffens against Jimin, looking around at his elders with exasperation.

Taehyung shrugs, “I heard she absorbs the power of the soulbond to make herself more powerful. I also heard she collects the rare creatures from soulbonds and bonds them to her.”

“You’re pulling our leg.”  Yoongi laughs bitterly before he glares at the vampire, “Where the fuck did you hear that shit?”

“Regulars at the club, loose lips when they’re drunk.” Taehyung is unaffected by Yoongi’s disbelief, “I’m not going anywhere near that witch, neither is Namjoon. She’ll smell the soulbond from a mile away.”

“What do we do then?” Jin directs his question at Namjoon, “[Name] isn’t going to tell us anything, especially if she’s running from a demon.”

“We’re going to continue what we’ve been doing and we’re all going to behave ourselves.” Namjoon fixes his gaze on the three youngest, ignoring their immediate protests.

“Me?”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“It was once, hyung.”

“Hobi,” Namjoon tuned to the hellhound, “Can you find out anything about the demon? Discreetly, of course.”

Hoseok nodded, “Yeah, I’ve got some contacts.”

“Good. Now, let’s get moving. We’re gonna be late.” Namjoon breaks away from their gathering in the hallway to disappear into his room.

“For Pete’s sake, Taehyung. Go put clothes on, I’m pretty sure you’re dry now.” Jin jabs his finger in the air towards the vampire.

“You’re just jealous, hyung. You should try this sometime. Namjoon-hyung appreciates me.”

“I appreciate you too.”

“See? Yoongi-hyung does too.”

“You’re a pain in the ass.”

“I’m YOUR pain in the ass, baby.”

“I think you have a nice ass, hyung.”

“Kookie, don’t encourage him.”

“No, please, Kookie, tell me more,”

“Stop corrupting the maknae!”

Namjoon steps out of his bedroom, fully clothed and one hand holding his previously used towel and the other planted on one of his hips as he glares at his six mates, “Why are you all still standing here? Get moving!” They immediately start to disperse, except for Jin and Taehyung.

“What’re you going to do if I do-YA!” Taehyung suddenly jumps and shrieks when Jin smacks him right on the ass with Namjoon’s towel. “Ya! Hyung!”

“There’s more where that came from, brat.” Jin whips the towel back in mock motion, laughing when the vampire shrieks and takes off towards his bedroom.

Jin glances at Namjoon before he does a double-take at the look the werewolf gives him, “What? You want some too?” Jin mock swats the towel in the leader’s direction, grinning.

“Go get dressed, Jin-hyung.” Namjoon shakes his head, stalking off down the hallway to wait in the living room.

“You’re no fun!”

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

Notes: Finally we get to meet Hobi! If you haven't connected the dots, Hobi is "the hound" that Asa mentions in the prologue, which you know, means....yeah. Anyway, isn't he just....dreamy?? He's really fun to write (Taehyung and Jimin are too, tbh)! Now, there’s just Yoongi and Jin let. I hope y’all enjoyed this rollercoaster of a chapter! <3<3

[neoblogcrying]

Day 3: Transformation (a)- AU

@liushenweek

Note: Mmmm I suppose you could say that this is loosely based off the Fruits Basket series? How exactly they’re different—well, you gotta read to find out!

One of the 4 great Cultivation Sects, Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, held a deep secret that none could know about. On top of each of the 12 Peaks on the mountain range stood a Peak Lord that protected the peak.

Mysterious and elusive, strong and mystical.

The Peak Lords were the definition of ‘power,’ and the same could always be said about their predecessors.

Even if a mediocre person rose to the title of Peak Lord, under the guidance of the previous Peak Lord, they were sure to rise to immense strength and status.

For sure, there was something special about being a Peak Lord, but Cang Qiong Mountain sect kept the secrets behind their Peak Lords a well-guarded secret. For centuries, other Sects like Huan Hua Palace would send in spies to dig into the secrets, but none have successfully completed their mission.

In fact, a few centuries back, one spy rose to the title of Peak Lord, but they betrayed their previous sect by taking the secret to their grave.

Shen Yuan was one such spy that was found and was raised for the sole purpose of uncovering the secrets of Cang Qiong Mountain Sect’s Peak Lords. As an orphan, he had no other choice to obey the commands of the sect that took him in if he wanted to live a long life. He was chosen because he had an uncanny resemblance to Qing Jing Peak’s future Peak Lord, Shen Qingqiu.

They looked so similar, you could mistake them to be blood related brothers, but everyone knew that Shen Qingqiu came from a wealthy family, so there was no way that Shen Yuan could possibly be related to the future Peak Lord.

When it came time to fulfill his mission, Shen Yuan waited for Shen Qingqiu to come down the mountain and ambush him with a group of others from the sect. They’d switch their clothing and haul the original away. Afterwards, all that needed to be done was to wait.

Shen Yuan purposefully gave himself an injury, so he’d be rushed to Cang Qiong Mountain for recuperation.

As he lay in his room, sleeping, a spirit visited him in his dream.

“You’re not Shen Qingqiu, but you share his blood. Curious, he never told me he had a brother.”

Brother? That’s news to him! Shen Yuan was an orphan who had no idea about what his family dynamics were.

As far as he knew, he was an only child.

He wanted to ask this stranger what made them think he had a brother, but no matter how hard he looked, he couldn’t see anything but a misty fog that was slightly luminescent in the dark expanse of emptiness. It’s an understatement to think that this was unnerving for Shen Yuan. He was obviously in a dream, but he couldn’t see anything aside from the luminescent fog.

He couldn’t smell anything, and if he waved his arms around, he could feel nothing. Even the fog would evade his touch if he tried to reach out for it.

“Speak, what is your name, and what has become of Shen Qingqiu?”

As far as Shen Yuan knew, the Sect he was adopted into had kidnapped Shen Qingqiu in an attempt to have him spill his secrets. If he refused to tell, they may kill him after they’ve ensured that Shen Yuan wasn’t going to get caught.

With that said, he was probably safe for the next couple of months, unless Shen Yuan’s reports made them think otherwise.

“I… was told to act as Shen Qingqiu’s replacement while the elders tried to get the truth out of the real Shen Qingqiu. They’re convinced that the Peak Lords are hiding a heavy secret that’s the reason behind their strength.” Shen Yuan answered as concisely as he could as he was secretly doing his best to wake himself up from this dream, but nothing was working!

No matter how hard he willed himself to wake, it felt as though something kept pulling his consciousness back in!

A loud resounding laugh echoed the expanse darkness, almost making Shen Yuan go deaf from the sheer volume of the voice. Whoever it was that infiltrated his dream, they were powerful.

“That proud brat would rather die than tell the truth! I’m sure all the Peak Lords would feel the same. No, maybe that shameless rabbit would…”

Suddenly, behind the fog, Shen Yuan could see a shadow. The shadow was getting bigger, its dark silhouette getting crisper as it came closer.

“An Ox?” Shen Yuan spoke carelessly, wondering if he was seeing things.

“An Ox that wants to run you through with his horns for stealing Shen Qingqiu from him.” The ox grunted, scraping his hoofs against the transparent floor to illustrate a point.

The ox was much larger than Shen Yuan expected him to be. He towered over Shen Yuan with an imposing air of authority. If you stacked two fully grown men on top of each other, that’s how tall this creature was.

Also, the Ox was completely white in color, which gave him the feel of being a spirit of some kind.

He didn’t know what, but it was clear that this… spirit and Shen Qingqiu had some kind of connection with one another.

No matter if this was a dream, he didn’t want to die. It sounded like it would hurt!

The young man secretly cowered in fear, but he kept a brave and deviant expression on his face. He was truly the spitting image of the Qing Jing Peak Lord.

That’s to be expected, because they shared blood with each other.

This… could work.

If it was revealed that Shen Qingqiu was captured, the Ox would be forced to kill him through their connection, and he didn’t want to do that.

Out of all the Peak Lords he’s contracted himself to, Shen Qingqiu was his favorite. He may have a dirty personality, but his faithfulness to ‘the Rat’ was earnest.

That’s what the Ox liked about him, the fact that he was so loyal to the one contracted to the ‘Rat,’ no matter how he’d stubbornly argue that he didn’t care for Yue Qingyuan. The Ox knew that Shen Qingqiu was loyal to one person only and that fit his personality as well.

The Ox did not care for any of the other animals in the zodiac aside from the Rat. Each of the Peak Lords made a contract with a specific creature.

The Sect Leader was contracted to the rat. Shen Qingqiu was contracted to the Ox.

12 Peak Lords, 12 contracted animal spirits.

What of the Bai Zhan peak lord, you ask? Surely he’s contracted to a strong animal like a tiger or a dragon? No, as the 7th ranked Peak Lord, he’s contracted to the Stallion.

The Tiger was contracted to the Peak Lord of WanJian Peak, Wei Qingwei. The Dragon was contracted to the Xianshu Peak Lord, Qi Qingqi. Though it’s said she’s contracted to a dragon, she’s truly contracted to a small aquatic creature.

No spirit animal could hold more than one contract, so it would be impossible for him to contract to Shen Yuan, and that would pose a problem as the Peak Lords could sense who was a fellow peak lord by their specific wavelengths every contractor had.

If Shen Yuan truly wished to impersonate Shen Qingqiu, it would be impossible to do so without being contracted first.

Through their connections, people are able to tell another contractor apart from non-contracted people… but they’re unable to tell what or who each individual is contracted to.

It was also forbidden for the contracted animal spirits to tell their contractor who other people are contracted to, so it was up to the humans themselves to figure it out.

“If you value your life, you will help Shen Qingqiu reclaim his rightful place as Peak Lord. First, I know of a Spirit that may be willing to contract with you.”

…

…

…

It was weird dreaming about the time he’d learned the truth behind the Peak Lord’s strength.

Slowly, Shen Yuan blinked the sleepiness out of his eyes, lazily looking out to see that he’d taken a nap out in the sun. If not for the fact that the Ox was well known for being lazy, he couldn’t get away with such an act.

He had to be careful about his cat-like actions… like sleeping in the sunlight.

Yes, you guessed it. He was forcibly contracted to a Cat spirit, and he had to make fake reports back to the sect in an attempt to prolong Shen Qingqiu’s life. It seemed that it was a part of the contract to keep the secret of the Spirit Animals.

If you broke your promise, then you’d be cursed to take the form of the animal you were contracted to.

Do you understand what that means?

If Shen Yuan reported the truth to the Sect, he’d turn into a cat, FOREVER! Shen Qingqiu risks turning into an Ox that they could butcher for meat if he told the truth.

Who wants to do that?

No one, that’s who.

Speaking of turning into animals… he learned something else. It was only when the contractor felt heavy emotions that they transformed into their contracted animal.

It was apparently a big deal when Shen Qingqiu first transformed into his giant Oxen form because he got upset over losing to Liu Qingge in some competition. The Peak Lords had to gather everyone on the scene and erase their memories of the incident.

You know what’s interesting about all the spirit animals? They all have special props! The Ox carried a bag on its back that held scrolls! It’s what you’d expect out of a Peak known for its knowledge.

It made Shen Yuan want to see what all the other Spirit Animals looked like if not only to see what their props were.

Anyways, do you understand why Shen Qingqiu transforming back then is so important?

You guessed it! Shen Qingqiu revealed to the other Peak Lords that he was contracted to the Ox by transforming in such a public place.

What’s the issue? Shen Yuan is contracted to a CAT, which is definitely not the same as an Ox. If he transformed into his cat form, then it was obvious that he wasn’t the real Shen Qingqiu! He had to remain vigilant as to not reveal his contracted animal if he wanted to keep himself alive.

He deduced the fact that Yue Qingyuan had contracted the rat, because all rodents seemed to adore him, much like how cats adored Shen Yuan. What do you suppose his prop is? A crown to signify that he’s the Sect Head?

He tried asking once, but the Ox could only explain that each of the 12 peaks at Cang Qiong Mountain had an animal spirit shackled to it by a curse placed upon them by an ancient immortal cultivator.

There was some deal the animal spirits struck with this cultivator, and only when they finished their mission could they be freed from their duty of protecting their peak.

Since they’re shackled to their respective peaks, the Ox spirit had no way of knowing what happened to Shen Qingqiu. The most he knew was that Shen Qingqiu was alive, because if he had died… his contract would be annulled, and he’d have to find the next person to contract himself to.

Now, the cat is different because he’s not shackled to the mountain. Therefore, he’s able to stick with Shen Yuan no matter where he goes! You’d think that’s a great thing, but the cat had a horrible personality, and he truly loved to make fun of Shen Yuan at any given moment.

The Ox couldn’t go into much detail about anything, but he did advise Shen Yuan to stay away from Yue Qingyuan. There was deep history between the two men that not even the contracted animal spirits were able to gaze into. As this was the case, Yue Qingyuan was too dangerous to be around.

Luckily for Shen Yuan, there was a deep tension between the two men, so it wasn’t out of character for him to actively avoid the Sect Leader.

He does know another one! When Liu Qingge suffered a Qi-deviation in a cave… he found out that… HE’S A WAR HORSE!

Look, he almost died finding that out, but it was exciting! He transformed with a full set of armor! How cool is that!? He’s not a war lord for nothing!

The Ox and the Horse didn’t get along, so Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge weren’t on great terms either… but Shen Yuan was contracted to the cat.

This creature was lazy and had a God-complex. He didn’t care either way as long as you treated him with respect.

As such, the cat was fine with most of the animal spirits EXCEPT for the Rat. It seemed like the cat had a deep grudge against the rat.

After Shen Yuan contracted himself with the Cat, he was no longer able to speak to the Ox, which made him feel a bit lonely.

He stood up and stretched, intending to walk to the river and wash his face, but instead… he saw that there was a visitor on Qing Jing Peak.

He could tell by the broad shoulders that Liu Qingge of Bai Zhan Peak was cleaning his sword in the river.

From what he could recall, the very last time they’ve spoken was… after they parted from their last mission. A flushed heat rose to his cheeks, but he quickly repressed his emotions. He couldn’t risk transforming into a cat form right now!

Be calm, relax, and be natural. Opening his fan, he approached Liu Qingge quietly.

“Hello Liu-Shidi, what are you doing on Qing Jing Pea—AH! Shidi!? WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?” He leaped back to see a giant war horse staring him down!

Wh-what made Liu Qingge feel such a strong emotion that he transformed!?

Quickly, Shen Yuan scanned the immediate area, only relaxing once he realized no one was nearby to witness this scene.

[You’re wrong! I’m not in love with you!] The horse before him snorted, bucking his hind legs out of restless annoyance.

…

What now?

[The Succubus has to be wrong!]

Really, what now? The Succubus told him about his future love, and he deduced that he couldn’t think of any woman that fit the bill.

Why was Liu Qingge so riled up about what the Succubus prophesized?

[…sigh That stupid ox gave me a real dumb ass to contract to. The Succubus wasn’t talking about a woman, but a MAN that you’re fated to. Your Liu-Shidi thinks you both are soul mates.]

What?

Shen Yuan recalled what the Succubus had to say, and with every word he recalled, his face would flush a deeper red color.

[Hey, wait… your heartbeat is beating too fast!] His contracted spirit animal tried to warn him, but it was too late.

He was beyond embarrassed to know that Liu Qingge thought that they were soul mates! Sure, he liked Liu Qingge, but he didn’t like him… that way? At least, he didn’t think he did?

Poof!

…

Once the smoke cleared, Liu Qingge didn’t see the massive ox he was expecting to see. Instead, he saw a fluffy brown and white striped cat wearing a facial mask that had fake horns attached to it.

That’s one way of saying that you were impersonating a Peak Lord!

Hm? Why did he transform into a small cat you ask? That’s because he’s not a Peak Lord! He was a lowly spy who had to lay low. That’s why he’s small!

[Shen… Qingqiu…?]

Liu Qingge didn’t know how to process this information. This isn’t what he remembered.

[YOU REALLY DID IT NOW, YOU IDIOT!!!!!! HOW ARE YOU GOING TO EXPLAIN THIS!? NONE OF THE PEAK LORDS HAVE EVER BEEN CONTRACTED TO A CAT! THE IS OX IS GOING TO KILL ME IF HE’S FORCED TO KILL THE ORIGINAL SHEN QINGQIU! HOW WILL YOU MAKE THIS UP TO ME, HUH?]

This was such a pickle! Don’t blame him, blame Liu Qingge for springing that up on him so suddenly!

Shen Yuan really wanted to dig his claws into something with how frustrated he felt. How was he going to explain this? COULD he explain it? How was this going to affect the original Shen Qingqiu? Would the Ox be forced to kill him?

If he dies… Shen Yuan will die too! It’s a part of the contract he made with the cat!

[You can explain later, pick up our clothes.]

The war horse picked the fluffy, brown and white striped cat by the back of the nape and walked along the river. Shen Yuan had hastily bundled the clothes into his paws, waiting for Liu Qingge to take them to—wherever.

Liu Qingge could hear that someone was approaching, so they needed to make a speedy getaway.

Shen Qingqiu and his contracted animal were quiet. They weren’t expecting this kind of a reaction from Liu Qingge. All the Peak Lords were supposedly protective of each other because of their secret—but he wasn’t causing a fuss right now?

If Liu Qingge was willing to accept Shen Yuan, then everything was going according to the Ox’s plan. If they managed to get all the Peak Lords to accept Shen Yuan (The cat contractor) as ‘one of them,’ then they would be freed from their shackles.

However, every attempt at this has failed because of how protective and suspicious the Peak Lords were of anyone who weren’t a part of their immediate group of 12.

With Shen Yuan being a spitting image of Shen Qingqiu, they had a chance of breaking their shackles! That was the primary reason as to why the Ox kept Shen Yuan alive.

He not only could help keep Shen Qingqiu alive by reporting back to his original sect, but he could also gain the other Peak Lord’s trust. If they trusted him enough, they may come to accept him after he tells them the truth.

[Whatever secret you have, I don’t care. I’ll help you.]

This would be music to the Ox’s ears if he was around to hear it.

Liu Qingge wasn’t an idiot. All the Peak Lords would have been notified if one of their own had died by their contracted spirit animals. Shen Qingqiu was alive, and it was impossible for him to be contracted to two different animals, and everyone knew he was contracted to the Ox.

If this… ‘Shen Qingqiu’ turned into a cat, that meant he was a different person, even if he looked the same as the original Ox-contractor.

Were they brothers? Twins? He’d never heard about this, so it had to be a secret from all the Peak Lords.

If it was made known that something happened to Shen Qingqiu, the Peak Lords may vote to kill him, and this fake would likely face the same fate.

He… may not love ‘Shen Qingqiu’, but he doesn’t want to see him die.

Shen Yuan could only allow Liu Qingge to hold him by the nape, patiently waiting to be let down.

[What’s your real name?]

[… Shen Yuan.]

Silence.

[I’m not in love with Shen Qingqiu.]

Again, with that? Shen Yuan fought the urge to roll his eyes at Liu Qingge. How many times will he repeat the same thing before he’s satisfied? Rubbing it in that he transformed because Liu Qingge spouted some random nonsense at him?

[I’m willing to believe I’m fated for Shen Yuan, however.]

[Hoh… he’s a bold one. Hey hey, don’t tell me you won’t respond to that? Going to leave a guy hanging? That’s the Bai Zhan Peak Lord, you know? You have to respond! Wait until I tell the ox later, he’ll die knowing this development! The Rat is going to be devastated! Haha! Serves him right for telling me the date wrong!]

Shen Yuan’s ears lay flat against his head as he tried to ignore the cat spirit. He was always so annoying and there was never a time of peace.

Why did it sound like Liu Qingge was accepting the fact he was soulmates with him now that he knew he wasn’t the real Shen Qingqiu?

What a fickle man!

[Now you accept the prophecy?]

[Shen Qingqiu loves someone else, so I had no chance. Shen Yuan is different.]

Liu Qingge stopped walking as he found a place that could hide them behind these large boulders. He laid down on the plush grass and settled the cat down on his front legs.

Even someone as emotionally constipated as Liu Qingge understood that Shen Qingqiu regarded Yue Qingyuan as someone special. It didn’t take a genius to know that love was probably involved.

[I will help you, so don’t go dying on me.]

POOF!

AAAHHHHHHH BEFORE HE THINKS ABOUT BEING TOUCHED BY LIU QINGGE’S WORDS OR WHATEVER, PUT SOME DAMN CLOTHES ON!!!!!

The cat found himself sitting on Liu Qingge’s (naked) lap! He didn’t know where to look!

[Put your clothes on and let me go! If anyone sees you, you’ll be a cat hugging pervert!]

[Hey hey, ask him again if he knows about dual cultivation. This is the perfect chance to try~]

THIS DAMNED CAT!

“You’re soft.” Liu Qingge ignored his words in favor of petting his silky-smooth fur.

It was only a matter of time before—

POOF!

“L-Liu-shidi, look away!” Shen Yuan threw a wad of white clothes at Liu Qingge’s face so he wouldn’t see him in the nude.

The damned cat spirit was currently laughing its head off, goading Shen Yuan to invite Liu Qingge to dual-cultivate together. He wanted to see a show.

Shen Yuan bitterly wondered whether or not he was actually contracted to the rabbit with how indecent the cat was acting.

[minimalexertion]

Chapter 3

Lives Worth Saving

Chapter 3: Identifying the most Valuable People

Step 5 - Finding Valuable Lives

Every single character that displays the characteristics of a main character or important side character (e.g. strangely coloured/styled hair, overly-determined about a single goal, somehow inspires others because of that goal, makes everyone like them through actions etc.) will often have a tragic back story. However, you cannot save all of these lives. Some deaths are pivotal in the story to motivate other characters and drive them to accomplish things they would have never dreamed of.

The lives worth saving must tick off the following 5 requirements, known as 'The 5 Principles of Hasamelis':

Must have an important part in the story for the future;

Saving their lives will not, in anyway, impact the progress of the characters around them;

Their existence must contribute to the better good of the collective;

If a villain, they have shown remorse and/or guilt for their previous actions; and

The dimension traveller must not have, in anyway, have saved their lives because they were important to the traveller on a personal level.

Once the person has ticked off all 5 requirements, they are deemed as a 'salvum hominem' and their lives are now under your protection.

Handy Tip #7: Although we love redemption arcs, some villains will not be able to experience this despite your best efforts to push them in that direction. It is better to finish them where they are instead of wasting time listening to their tragic backstory.

Handy Tip #8: Try not get too attached to characters, which will hinder your abilities to perform this step. Instead, try to become friends with the characters that have a 90% ~ 100% chance of surviving until the end of the story {see the character profiles given by your assigned protector eorum for more information}.

Handy Tip #9: If you know the name of the "show" in which the new dimension exists, then the chances are that the show is named after the main character.

Note: Even though the main character is important, it is very rare that they will die, so you do not need to worry about their lives as much as you need to.

Opening the door to the Hokage's office with a quiet, "Pardon my intrusion," You slipped through the door, only to come face to face with 5 'strangers'. Well, you could recognise everyone there, but how creepy would it be for someone (who you don't know) to approach you and suddenly say, "Hey, kid. You don't know me but I know you, and you're going to be a raging psychopath hell-bent on revenge which will get your ass whooped more times than you would like."

Yeah, definitely not creepy at all.

The Hokage seemed to brighten up at your appearance, whilst the other 5 (2 adults and 3 children) looked baffled at your arrival. "Ah, [f.name]! Nice of you to join us at last." The Hokage said, his smile kind and his voice gentle.

Your eyebrow twitched, "No offence, Gramps. But, you literally made me wait outside for 1 hour just so we could have a a dramatic entrance where they'll think that I'm cool, so we'll all get along." You shot back snidely, the smirk dancing on your lips the only indication that it was a jest. Walking right up to the Hokage, punching his shoulder gently as a greeting (which would hopefully defuse the sudden appearance of strange tension in the room). The Hokage only shook his head, chuckling, as the adult with a scar across the bridge of his noise completely lost his mind.

'That man, I feel like I should know him. I knew I should've read those character profiles that 'stink-bag' [your 'guardian angel' was now currently demoted to insulting nicknames] gave me.' You thought, your eyes narrowed and finger scratching your chin as you stood there thinking about his face for a bit too long.

The familiar feeling of the Hokage's hand ruffling your [length] [colour] hair drew you back into the present, as he mockingly asked, "So, are you going to introduce yourself, [f.name]?"

"Oh yeah. Forgot about that." You replied, snapping back to reality. Turning your attention to the 3 kids and single adult in front of you, you quickly bowed, "I apologise for my rude behaviour. I am [f.name] [l.name], feel free to call me [f.name]. I hope we can all get along, like back in middle-school - not like any of you know what middle-school is. I just moved here a couple of weeks ago and I'm here for a good time, not a long time." You stood straight, a large smile on your face.

A small silence followed after your introduction, before the masked man with silver hair (which was, honestly, a little frightening at its apparent disregard for physics) waved, his one visible eye closed, and introduced himself, "I am Kakashi Hatake, your new teacher," He then gestured to the 3 kids, "And this is Naruto, Sakura and Sasuke. We're glad to have you on our team."

Your [colour] eyes scanned over a blond boy, a pinkette, and a gloomy dark-haired boy. I mean seriously, the third kid could probably suck out all the light in a room. Before dismissing them as some random 'side-characters', you jolted, a nervous sweat breaking out on the palms of your hands. When you heard the name Naruto, you could feel the remains of your soul attempting to escape. You were on the team. The team with the main character, which will also mean the team with the hardest work. You had a suspicion that the blond child was Naruto, but now you were sure.

Great, chances of surviving past the age of 15 is probably now dwindling in the single digits.

I narrowed my only visible eye at this [colour] haired girl. She didn't look like she was strong, but she wasn't weak either. I let out a resigned sigh as Naruto immediately thought that it would be a good idea to start rambling about his 'skills' and ambitions, even going as far as to shove his entire body into the poor girl's personal space. Feeling the beginning of what would be the 15th headache of the day, I quickly stepped in as I saw Naruto start to roll up his sleeves.

        "I'm going to be the Hokage one day, believe it!"

                "Sure, buddy. Don't know why you have to scream it into my face, but you do you, boo."

        "You don't believe me, do ya?!"

                "Uh, you asked me if I believed you and I said sure, so I have no idea what you are screaming about."

        "I'll show you!"

                 "Uh... okay?"

Swiftly grabbing Naruto by the collar of his orange jumpsuit, I sigh quietly, shooting the new girl an apology over Naruto's constant yelling, "Sorry about Naruto, [f.name]."

She just shrugged carelessly, finger gunning as she replied with a, "It's cool. Kid must have not had a good support system if he says stuff like that. I get it," Before casually strolling out the doors.

        'She knows something.'

The moment I had exited the room, I felt the tension in my shoulders disappear. About to walk outside to bask in the sunlight before it became dark, I felt a hand grasp my shoulder. Hearing the Hokage's eerie voice, I shuddered, "Ah. [f.name]. Leaving so soon? We're just about to discuss mission details."

Snapping to attention, I quickly replied with a frightened screech and a salute before making my way back into the office, palms sweaty, knees weak, and arms heavy, as I gulped at the forced smile on the Hokage's face. Closing the door quietly behind me, I let out a nervous laugh as I met Sakura's quizzical gaze.

Turning my attention back to the Hokage, I quickly caught the next sentence out of his mouth, which made my jaw drop to the floor, "You will all be bodyguards on this C-rank mission."

Now, I know I haven't seen any episodes of Naruto, but I did read the episode synopsis of the first 20 episodes, so I sure as hell know that this is going to be a hard time for me.

Sweating slightly, I heard Sakura ask, worry evident in her tone, "[f.name], are you okay? You look a little pale."

Gulping slightly, I decided this would be the best time to pretend I was a fortune teller and thus put my excellent acting skills to use. Swooning slightly, I let out a groan as my eyelids fluttered quickly. Sakura quickly grabbed me in an attempt to hold me upright while I grasped onto her, looking her right in her bright green eyes with my own wide [colour] eyes, before muttering urgently, "Mirrors are dangerous. There's no way out!" Before collapsing onto the floor and into Sakura's arms.

"Sensei!!"

Sakura's piercing shriek made me aware of the credibility of my acting skills, which was only further strengthened by Naruto also screaming, Kakashi looking into my blank eyes, and the sound of the chair screeching as the Hokage rushed to my side.

"[f.name], what's wrong?! Are you okay?" The Hokage asked, his voice panicked and urgent. "What do you mean mirrors are dangerous and there's no way out?"

I let my body slump weakly onto the floor, before looking at Sasuke. Weakly raising a finger, I pointed to him, much to his displeasure (which I didn't necessarily care for since I was reveling in the look of disgust on his face) and quietly croaked out, "You will die in the mirror maze, Sasuke Uchiha."

With Sasuke's black eyes widened in shock, I remained a steady eye contact with him as I slowly lowered my arm, before closing my eyes for a quick snooze. If I wanted this to be realistic and say I have an overpowered ability, then there has to be major drawbacks, and the only thing I can think of right now is falling asleep right after a 'prediction.'

Ignoring the exclamations of the people around me, I let myself take a 10 minute nap, and to be completely honest, after all the shit I have been through and the stuff I have yet to experience, I think I deserved it.

Step 6 - How to Gain Trust

Just be "honest" and hardworking. Have the type of personality that everyone likes to be around. But you must have a few believable flaws, such as never being on time, always forgetting to wear socks, never eating breakfast, bringing dishonour onto your family name, etc. 

When this part is done, start to build a meaningful relationship with the people, remembering their likes and dislikes, important dates and people in their lives, and overall just being a really good friend.

Handy Tip #10: The quietest people are often the most interesting and easiest to get along with.

First impressions: 8 out of 10

Acting skills: 15 out of 10

Fortune telling abilities: 9 out of 10

Probability of survival: 43.49%

[angelguk]

royal au!bangtan

i gave this idea away a while ago but the account never did anything with it nor did they post it so imma just leave this here for anyone who wants to use it as prompt/idea starter

this has nothing to do w/ the fae!au btw

endgame was meant to be either jungkook or taehyung but do what you want! :)

it was roughly based off moon lovers: scarlet heart ryeo minus the time travel and ten times the betrayal 

prompt includes: brief plot outline, character outline and first potential chapter (but everything can change pretty easily)

leavin it under here

potential title: affinity meaning a binding by mutual attraction

BANGTAN – TAEHYUNG (Duke), JUNGKOOK (General) NAMJOON (Philosopher/Astronomer) YOONGI (Advisor to King) JIMIN (Duke) HOSEOK (Duke) JIN (Stable Boy)

BRIEF PLOT OUTLINE – Reader is part of a country which is been invaded by the Emperor of the boys Kingdom. (Places need names). During an attack of a village that the reader lives in she is captured. Jungkook was leading that attack and found her hiding in the stables. Reader is the daughter of the leader of that region. Reader is known to have helped her father in many excursions. They capture her and bring her for questioning in the castle. Reader is tortured hoping that information could be taken from her. Reader knows nothing. King orders her execution but Namjoon defies it saying the stars have something in plan for her and they may use her as bait to draw in her father (who fled before the attack or wasn’t there). Yoongi is completely against this. But reader is now sentenced to do stable work / slavery where she meets Jin. They befriend each other quickly – Jin does not know where reader comes from. One day Jungkook needs service on his horse and Reader has to do it. Jungkook causes trouble and his friend, Taehyung (the Duke of some Court/place) is there with him as well as Jimin and Hoseok. Jimin takes the reader’s side while Jungkook and Taehyung are assholes (Only Jungkook knows where she is from).  Later that day a maid is dismissed from work (reason unknown yet) and there’s a bit of chaos as they need servers since the main dukes and general are here celebrating a holiday with the King. Reader is randomly chosen by the Chef and is forced to serve. At dinner Jungkook, Yoongi and Namjoon are shocked. King pays little attention to her. Crown Prince keeps on staring at Reader. That dinner is more of a conference meeting event and the Reader hears everything. Start’s to think on how to destroy the King so she can revive her Kingdom. Leads to Yoongi finding her in the Accords (place where important documents about the King and his kingdom are kept) but Namjoon comes to her rescue. Jungkook is also suspicious of her but Taehyung, Hoseok and Jimin take her side. She begins to build a relationship with those three but she finds one of the King’s men (along with the Second Queen) planning an assassination of the Crown Prince. Reader happens to help prevent the death of the crown prince. Jungkook and Yoongi even more suspicious of her. Reader builds relationship with Namjoon and relationship with Taehyung turns romantic. (Now she is a permanent server no longer a stable girl).  Not sure where it goes from there.

End Game: Unknown (Either Taehyung or Jungkook – so either the boy who’s been by her side forever or the asshole who became her lover after they stopped being enemies)

Relationships

-         Deep friendship w/ Jin

-         One way w/ Jimin (Jimin loves her)

-         Mutual love/hate Jungkook

-         Mutual love Taehyung

-         Friendship w/ Namjoon

-         Friendship turned romantic/ sexual w/Yoongi (MAYBE?)

-         Deep Friendship w/ Hoseok

Names/Places:

·         Ennia READERS Kingdom

·         Ardeland  BANTANS Kingdom

Characters:

-         Reader

-         Bangtan Members

-         Queen Min Soonja (1st Queen)

-         Queen Hae Jisoo (2nd Queen)

-         Consort Ro Soo Ah (1st Consort)

-         Consort Mo Suelgi (3rd Consort)

-         Crown Prince Ryo Minho

-         King Ryo Gyeong Su

-         Prince Young Jae (Son of 2nd Queen)

-         Princess Yoona (Daughter of 2nd Queen)

-         Princess Hyo Rin (Daughter 1st Queen)

 Note: Gardenia is where the Reader was placed for safe keeping while her Father vanished + Jungkook became a General after his father died. 

CHAPTER ONE – NO MAN UNDER THE SKY LIVES TWICE

The air carries the pungent stench of death, within it lies the tired breathe of horses, the echoes of metal meeting metal in furious clashs and the faint glimmer of metallic blood. Dust dances in the air he breathes, coating his lungs in a thick layer of earth and smoke. Catani sits beside him, glistening sliver in the harsh sunlight of the Ennia lands. Her sliver body is caked in scarlet blood, slipping slowly off the sharp tip that’d been driven into the bodies of thousands. Her owner glances down, dark hair soaked in sweat clinging onto his forehead. His face is young but time and fighting has begun to show themselves in the deep chocolate eyes he possesses. His gaze stayed on the sword, ignoring the moving world around. The voices of his men chattering and bickering away as they assembled sticks and logs to create a fire fell on his deaf ears. He didn’t hear the crunch of dry grass as a man cloaked in midnight blue dashed towards his huddled figure. Until the man stood before him, panting heavily as sweat dripped from his sliver beard.

“General Jeon, there has been a message for you. From the capital.” The man says the word capital in a hushed whisper, as if the word alone could get him killed.

“What is it.” The boy doesn’t ask, his tone is a clear and solid command. His gaze doesn’t shift from the bloodied weapon either. Instead fingers painted in blue bruises and ivory scars find themselves twisting idly around a tall piece of grass.

The man tuts, lifting his hands to rip the head wrap from his sweltering skull. Hair the colour of moonlight tumbles from the intricate wrap design, falling like a waterfall down his back. “You’re not even going to look at me huh. Little rapscallion.”

The boy laughs. It’s short and brief and it comes out his throat like a cough instead.

“I didn’t need to look at you,” His fingers rise and point idly to the shoes the man was wearing. Curved pointed tips which reach for the skies. Capital shoes – not army boots. “Nobody else wears those bothersome things, Mordecai.”

The man huffs in reply, flopping down beside the boy. His heavy navy cloak hits the ground with a thud, spreading itself around the man’s frail body.

“Alright then Jungkook. But I wasn’t lying when I said there was a message from the capital.”

“What is it.” There’s a slight twinge of impatience in his voice. Reasonable because his arms and legs ached with pain. Tearing through bodies with a sword as heavy as Catani was wasn’t not as easy as he made it seem.

“His Majesty wants you to go forward into Gardenia tomorrow. It’s one of the last few villages we haven’t conquered yet. His Majesty is certain that the princess is there.”

Jungkook sighs, ripping the leaf of grass from its roots and tossing it into the heavy air, now tainted with smoke and fiery orange hue of the setting sun.

“My men haven’t rested for three days. Last night we had to deal with a rabid Kroni attacking our horses. We’re not at all ready for a new advancement. We need at least a day’s rest Mordecai.”

His eyes are on the elderly man, laced with lassitude and dispiritedness. His whole body sagged underneath the heavy armour, almost like he was caving in. Mordecai looked at the boy, yes he was a boy; more the half the men he controlled were his seniors. But he was a boy nonetheless. A boy who’d seen blood and fire. A boy who’d narrowly escaped death and swiftly handed out ones. He may have had the body of an adolescent man but his mind was as old as his father’s once before he’d passed away.

Jungkook always reminded Mordecai of his father.

The older man turned away, fixing his gaze on the blazing fire that’d been erected before them. The heat from the flames combined with Ennia’s natural furnace the sun (which refused to stop giving heat even after it went down) the world was an incinerator.

“You speak to me as if I was the King. I cannot change orders Jungkook. I can only deliver them.”

“I wish you hadn’t delivered this one then.” He’s up, black boots crunching leaves into dust beneath them. His strides are lengthy. His lean tall stature is covered in a black coat, the golden intricate insignia of a King’s General engraved on the back. Dry wind rips at his clothing, ruffling the brown mane his possess. He looks exactly like his father in Mordecai’s eyes.

“Jungkook-ah,” Mordecai says to no one. “There are many messages I wish I hadn’t delivered.” His sigh is carried by the wind to the ears of the young General. “So many.”

+

You can’t sleep. The night air surrounding you is abuzz with the sounds of glowing dragonflies skittering over the slumbering river beneath your feet. The water is cold to touch, slipping over your nimble fingertips like velveteen. The world is silver and gold; cool moonlight meeting the warmth of the lanterns scattered carelessly around the pathway.

The calm breeze whispers stories in your ears, ruffling the flimsy white nightgown you’d adorned when you’d slipped into the warmth of the blanket back in your room. It hadn’t occurred to you that a jacket would be necessary when the night had called you awake.

The fabric is rough beneath your fingertips, completely unlike the smooth satin dresses that’d your wear in the palace. Here, satin was a thing of treasure. Not one person wore it.

You’re kicking the ground beneath absently, the familiar knot of resent and anger towards your father forming in the pit of your stomach. Why did he have to leave you here? Of all places this tiny village couldn’t have been the best choice. He could have sent his men to collect you when that bastard Ryo attacked. He could have – but he didn’t.

A sigh slips out of your mouth and you spin around, trying in vain to get rid of that feeling that’s been building up in your bones and blood since the attack. The world was a kaleidoscope of grey and black and silver and gold. Glistening rocks surrounded you, shimmering under the glow of the moon. Your shoes skidded across the wet surface beneath, but because of the insane training you’d received from Myrna your balance didn’t falter.

Despite this attempt, the questions that drew you from sleep tumble in your head.

Why did he leave you?

Why didn’t he attack back?

Where did he go?

Is he even alive?

Why Gardenia?

Why?

“Y/N!”

The world is shook from you grasp and you come to a halt, frantically searching the dark trees for the voice which called your name.

“Y/N,  why aren’t you in bed?” The voice come from behind you.

*prompt ends here*

[ritebeforeyoureyes]

Haunt

Sorry this took me a while to write! I have been super busy running errands and adapting to a lifestyle that doesn’t involve studying 24/7 lol.

Masterlist – Plot: Zendaya learns more about Tom’s lifestyle.

Haunt (Chapter Seventeen) 

Zendaya was in her studio and for the first time in a while, Tom wasn’t with her. With some elusive charity gala coming up, Tom had reluctantly gone to speak with his father about the details. As a result, Jon was sat on a bench looking as stern and yet surprisingly joyful whilst Darnell ran about doing mundane chores.

“I like that one.” Jon ushered to a photograph that made both Darnell and Zendaya pause with what they were doing. The picture in reference was one that Zendaya was initially incredibly hesitant to put on the market; the picture being one that she took. Her studio held pictures taken by both her and Darnell and an array of local photographers, but it was always the freelance photographers who sold the most. They were usually photographs of the stereotypical skyscrapers and the sunset; pictures that normal American families hung up in their living rooms.

But the one that Jon was admiring was one Zendaya had taken on the streets near her apartment. It was of a deserted children’s park during the fall, the swings in motion with the wind and a sullen eeriness haunting the whole space. There was graffiti on the walls, a grey cloudiness in the sky and benches that looked as battered and bruised as the slides inhabiting the park. It was meant to be a place of happiness and childishness and this picture didn’t embody that. In Zendaya’s mind it inadvertently showed off the inequality in New York. This tucked away spot hadn’t been cared for in months, years even, and Zendaya thought it was sad. Because parks, to her, were a symbol of childhood innocence.

Her childhood, before everything hit the ceiling, was a decent enough one; one that had shaped the person that she was today. Her parents were pretty crappy, but Nikki and Dom had been the substitute parents that she’d always needed. One of her fondest memories was of them taking the whole Holland clan and her out for some time in the sun at their local park. They’d drink Nikki’s lemonade on a picnic blanket before making a ruckus whilst trying to fight for the two free swings. It was always Tom and Zendaya who won, a very young Sam and Harry left sulking in the corner. But, those memories – regardless of how painful they were for Zendaya to look upon now – had reminded her that there was good in the world. That people like Nikki and Dom were kind and loving and that she could also be one of those people. That one day, when Zendaya had children of her own, she’d be able to be parents like they had been.

So, it didn’t sit right with Zendaya that something like a park – that was meant to be so wholesomely good – had now probably just become an abandoned spot for dodgy drug deals as it got dark. It was why she taken the picture in the first place, to expose the bleak reality of living where she did. Children from her local area didn’t get a childhood, not one that enabled them to run freely outside or hang with their friends at a play area. Parents were worried for their children, locking them insides and away from the dangers of the world and Zendaya wanted to embody that in her picture. But, it was definitely not something your average person wanted to purchase; nobody wanted the reminder of how screwed up the world actually was hanging in their home. “It’s real, I like that.”

“Really?” Zendaya tilted her head and admired her work. “No one’s ever said that to me.”

“You’re not capturing perfection, like that.” Jon pointed to another picture that had been taken in the fall. It looked like a college campus, NYU’s maybe, with autumnal coloured leaves covering a pretty gothic building; people in the foreground sipping coffees and dressed warm in sweatshirts and big scarves. There was a streak of sunlight hitting the front and it was picturesque. It was the type of photograph that was destined for the cover of a university prospectus or brochure. “Life isn’t all chai lattes and smiles. You’re basically calling out the bullshit of that picture with your own.”

“That actually means a lot, thanks Jon.” Zendaya nodded with a sense of pride, glad that somebody other than herself had picked up on the message she was trying to convey. “You’re the only person who’s ever picked up on the message behind that picture.”

“It’s crazy, you know-” After a pregnant silence between the two, Jon had Zendaya’s undivided attention. She stared at him curiously, urging him to explain himself. “How you and Tom are so different and yet so alike.”  

“Why is that?”

“He’s like you, always sees that differing view on people.” Jon had only ever known wealthy Tom Holland, but he had spent enough time with him to know he wasn’t just the stereotypical rich man that he was portrayed as in the media. “But-“

“But what?” Now Zendaya was intrigued. Jon knew more about this newer version of Tom than she did, and she was interested to know what Jon truly thought of him. Zendaya had seen Tom snap at Sam and Harry, masking his behaviour under the pretence that he was their boss and now, she was genuinely how he treated Jon; a man whose fatherly qualities she’d grown accustomed to.

“That’s not always a good thing. You’re humble, down to earth-”

“And Tom isn’t?”

“It’s not that, necessarily.” Jon tried to provide Zendaya with an insight into the life she had unfairly been thrust into whilst simultaneously treading on eggshells. He obviously couldn’t reveal anything of substance that would get him in trouble with Tom. “Look, what we do is dangerous, and you experience a lot of shit that even your worst nightmares couldn’t compare. That screws with a guy’s head, then when you throw money into the mix, it’s-”  

“A mess?”

“Exactly.” Jon nodded as a sombre expression clouded over Zendaya’s face. She was beginning to grow more and more sympathetic to Tom’s situation, her defences weakening as she exposed herself to him little by little. “To a working-class person, this life looks so easy. This is what they aspire to become and it’s not as black and white as that. Wealth and privilege isn’t all it’s made out to be.”

And Jon’s were the truth. Because the root of all of Tom’s problems originated from the wealth and privilege he had been thrust into and as he hit the gym with his father, that thought circled through his brain over and over again.

“Hit me again.” With a loud groan and a heavy swing at his Dad, Tom tried to punch Dom square in the chest. Dom bounced around a boxing ring with his arms up in defence. His eldest son, due to his obligations with Zendaya, hadn’t hit the gym in a while and Dom thought having a business conversation over some laddish time would be good for Tom. However, the hit demonstrated how laxed Tom had become with his combat skills. Dom had deflected the punch instantly and forced Tom’s body to the floor with a loud thud. The sound resonated through the room and Dom huffed in evident frustration. “Get up.”

“Jesus, Dad.” Tom groaned as he slinked over to the side of the ring with an aching shoulder. He clutched it tightly, aware that it would probably bruise in the morning. “Could have gone a little easy on me-“

“You get into a fight, no one’s going to take it easy on you-“

“I know that.” Tom retaliated quickly. “But you know I haven’t been training-“

“And whose fault is that?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” As Dom made the remark, Tom jumped on the defence immediately, his tone of voice snappy.

“It means you’ve gotten your priorities mixed up.”  Before Tom could respond, Dom held his hand up with an aura of authority that even Tom couldn’t ignore. Despite ruling over the majority of their employees, Tom was still inferior to his father in the hierarchy that was their family. “Son, you know I like Zendaya, she was like a daughter to me, but this isn’t good for us. This thing you’re doing, keeping her protected, it will only last so long. Harrison will keep trying and one day he’ll succeed. It’s a cat and mouse game-“

“I’m not letting that happen.”

“Maybe you should.” Dom muttered it under his breathe but the comment rang eerily through the spacious gym space.

“Are you crazy? That’s happening over my dead body.” Tom jumped up, ignoring the pain in his shoulder as his eyes bulged open. He couldn’t comprehend how his father had gone from referring to Zendaya as his daughter to dangling her in front of Harrison and his men as bait.

“Don’t talk to me with that tone, boy. I am still your father.” Dom instructed with a wag of his index finger and Tom reluctantly lowered his gaze. “All I’m trying to say is, is she worth it? Because you’ve got tunnel vision right now and all you see is her. But our business, my business is suffering because of it-“

“Nothing is suffering!” Tom didn’t understand where his father’s lecture was coming from. Surprisingly, Sam and Harry were taking good care of The Brother’s Trust since Tom had adopted the role as Zendaya’s primary bodyguard.  There had been a handful of successful drug shipping’s and a few social appearances that upheld the Holland’s’ charitable stature; all of which had occurred without Tom or Dom’s intervention. And, the planning for their upcoming charity gala was going well too. “The twins are handling the gala-“

In fact, the twins were handling the gala so well, it had become all the talk among New York socialite. Actors and actresses, CEOs and musicians; everyone who was anyone had gotten an invite for what the papers were calling the event of the year.

“Speaking of which, does she know about the gala? Zendaya?”

“Yeah. Of course, she does.” Tom had had the initial chat about the gala with Harry in front of Zendaya; she just didn’t know why the event was being held. He didn’t want to ruin everything and risk her freaking out about the prospect of seeing Harrison in the flesh. But all in all, she was excited about the event; a possible space for her to network her own business. She had never been to something of such a magnitude before and she was eager to schmooze with Hollywood’s finest in a pretty dress.

“She’s not on the guest list, right?”

“Dad, what’s going on with you today?” Of course, she is!”

Deep down, Dom understood Tom’s reasoning behind caring for Zendaya so deeply. Tom had always loved her, but love made you weak in the business that they were in. It was why Dom had allowed Nikki to be the loving and caring parent in their world. It was also why he slowly but surely faded into a loveless marriage. His marriage was a pretence of fake smiles and paparazzi pictures; an act to fool both their children and the world. And Dom didn’t want Tom to have to deal with the heartbreak that came with that. He was the practical person, the person that called out the bullshit and unfortunately, he was having to do that exact thing to Tom now. With his family and only his family’s best interests at heart, Dom knew Tom’s relationship with Zendaya wouldn’t end well. She would ruin him and his inability to fight efficiently at the gym proved that. She was his Achilles heel and as Dom grew older, he knew that soon, he needed Tom to have full reigns of the business. Tom needed to be involved in the nitty gritty details of this corrupt world and no woman could love a man like that. No woman could lie next to a man who killed for a living and be okay with that. And he didn’t want Tom to face that realisation three years or thirty years from now.

“You think bringing her as your date will be wise?”

“I don’t get your sudden vendetta against the girl you just called your daughter but I’m bringing her to the gala-“

“Fine. But let me tell you this, have you thought of a back up plan if everything goes tits up on the day-“

“What do you mean?”

“The twins’ plan is good, clever, actually! But it’s too idealistic, what if things don’t go to plan? What if Harrison’s already one step ahead? You’re basically giving her to him if he is.” As Dom spoke, the gears turned in Tom’s head. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, his Dad was right. Harrison was unpredictable, and Tom had no clue what he was planning. What if he saw right through his gala’s true intentions? What if it was his chance to cause some real damage? “So, listen to me and listen to me clear, Thomas, don’t bring Zendaya anywhere near that gala.”

If you enjoyed this piece and would like to help further me and my work, please support me whilst I get through university. The money you donate will go towards assisting me in my student fees, rent etc. It is one hundred per cent a voluntary pursuit and greatly appreciated, however, your lovely comments, likes and reblogs are always welcomed too. Thank you for being the greatest: https://ko-fi.com/D1D072V0

[lastbuckshot]

NSFW: “Abraham” Pritchard/Reader

Words: ~11.9k Fandom: listen...... I don’t know...... Devil’s Gate but only 5% Rating: Explicit Title: Night Shift

please go to @vtmiglia for all of your complaints, she forced me to do this

The mid-afternoon sun shone brilliantly in the sky, heating the air with a readily noticeable heat, made more noticeable by the plain black dress and heels you wore as you stood in your driveway. You smoothed down the front of your dress with your palms as you watched the car door of a run-down pickup truck swing open. From the driver’s side came a stoutly built man, his hair dark and slicked back, with a neatly groomed goatee on his face. He slammed his car door shut, with an aged rattle from the metal paneling. He walked around the front of his truck, dressed in a dark red plaid button up tucked into a pair of brown slacks. He pushed several loose strands of hair behind his ear and smirked, stopping a couple feet in front of you.

           “It’s been a while since I seen you. You gonna come give me a hug, ‘r what?”

           He outstretched his arms and you did the same, walking up to him and wrapping your arms around his back. You felt his hands against you, one hand pressed tightly between your shoulder blades, and the other rubbing up and down near the small of your back.

           “It’s good to see you again, Mr. Pritchard.”

           “You too, sweetheart.”

           You’d known Abraham Pritchard for a couple years, both as a member of the town and your boss of sorts. You’d babysat his kids many times, spending many days, and sometimes nights, watching over his two boys as he worked, or spent a night with his wife, or to himself. Over the past month, however, tensions between Abraham and his wife had kept you from staying over that often; for the past couple weeks, in fact, you hadn’t seen Abraham at all. But now, finally, the two of you were face to face again as you both released the hug.

           “The boys ‘re pretty excited t’ see you again,” Abe said, walking towards the passenger side door and opening it for you. “Maybe you c’n help me calm ‘em down some. They been drivin’ me crazy with everything goin’ on.”

           Abe extended his hand for you to grab as he helped you step into his truck. Once you were inside, you took care to make sure your arms and legs weren’t in the way before he pushed the car door shut. He climbed into the driver’s seat shortly thereafter, turning the key and being met with a metallic rattle and gruff rumble of the engine.

           “So,” he started, “Seein’ as it’s been a while since I put you t’ work, I hope you’re ready to put in some hard work today, little lady.”

“I’m always ready to work, Mr. Pritchard."

Abe smiled and put the car into gear, staring out at the road ahead.

“Don’t I know it, darlin’.”

Abe drove along the aging gravel road, the truck bumping and jostling along the contours of the pavement. His eyes were focused, brows turned downward as he stared out at the long stretch of road ahead. The farm on which he worked was far from the center of town, where he lived a solitary life, tending to his crops and animals, taking care of his wife and children. Presently, he leaned back in the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel with his right hand. His left hand rested in his lap, up toward the top of his thigh, where his wedding wing glinted from the afternoon sunlight filtering through the window. After several minutes of comfortable silence, Abraham began to speak.

“How much’ve you heard about me an’ Diana lately? I know people in town love t’ talk. About anything.”

You took your eyes off his wedding ring to meet his eyes. You only caught them for a moment, a sunlit brown, before he turned his head back toward the road.

“Not much. People are asking me what’s going on because I work for you.”

“And?”

“And I haven’t had anything to say.”

Abraham paused, his finger thoughtfully rubbing against his upper lip.

“Okay. You ain’t told nobody nothin’. But what’s everyone been tellin’ you?”

You hesitated, but were pushed to speak by an expectant gaze from Abraham.

“I heard some people say Mrs. Pritchard was somewhere back in town. Staying at a hotel. Some people said she had bags packed. I don’t know how true that is.”

Abe’s fingers stroked against his goatee, then he stroked the length of his jawline with his hand.

“I won’t lie t’ you,” he started, shifting in his seat, “That’s true. She’s been outta the house for a little while. Talkin’ it out wasn’t workin’, so I s’ppose we needed space. Or she did, I’m guessin’. It’s just been me an’ the boys at home. It’s real quiet lately.”

He stopped for a moment.

“Nah. Not quiet. That ain’t really the word. The boys ain’t quiet, I know that. Not sure what word I’m lookin’ for.”

In your throat you felt and quelled an urge to respond, avoiding a mishap of speaking out of turn. Abe glanced in your direction and back at the road.

“I c’n tell you wanted t’ say somethin’. You c’n talk.”

“I didn’t wanna sound rude,” you said, looking down at your dress. “I was just gonna say, maybe you meant ‘lonely’.”

Abraham’s eyebrows furrowed further downward, his head bobbing up, and down again in a nod of recognition.

“Mmmm. Never really thought’a myself as th’ lonely type. I don’t mind bein’ alone. I prefer it, sometimes.”

As the car approached a bump in the road, the thick dark pavement changing to light, soft dirt, Abraham’s hand reached out to press against your stomach, bracing you for the jostling of the truck. The vehicle jumped and careened on its front and back wheels, and Abe’s fingers pressed lightly into your stomach, just below your ribs, keeping you securely in your seat. After he passed the bump, he slid his fingers away from you, his fingertips lingering for a fleeting moment against your sides before he again gripped the wheel.

“Sorry about that. What was I talkin’ about?”

“That you like being alone. Sir.”

“Right. That’s right. It’s true. I appreciate some peace an’ quiet when I c’n get it.”

Abe glanced over you and smirked, his eyes drifting up and down from your face, down towards the hem of your dress, and back toward the road.

“But I’ll surely enjoy havin’ some company for once.”

The remainder of the drive continued, primarily with the rattle and hum of the truck as it lugged its way down the road. The two of you spoke sporadically throughout the long drive; about the kids, about how the farm was doing, about the animals; the kids were fine, some crops were struggling, but a new calf had been born just a few weeks ago, not long after you’d finished your last job.

The truck pulled into the yard, bumping up and down on its wheels, prompting Abraham to place his hand lightly over your stomach again. He pulled the car around to the back of the home, near the toolshed, and ceased the churning of the engine with a turn of his key. He motioned for you to stay in your seat as he opened his car door and exited, slamming it shut and walking around the front of the truck to open your door. Once again, he extended his hands, which you took, as he helped you out of the truck. Not long after, you heard a collection of patters, undoubtedly footsteps, rushing with increasing speed and volume in your direction. Running toward you both were Jackson and Noah, Abraham’s children; Jackson led, and Noah followed behind, being smaller and younger. Both of their arms wrapped around to hug you. You hugged them both back, and heard Abe slam his car door shut behind you.

“Ain’t I ever taught you boys manners? Greet ‘er proper-like.”

The boys let go of their hug and step back, Jackson speaking first.

“Sorry, daddy. It’s just we missed her a lot since momma ain’t here. We hope you’re havin’ a good day, ma’am.”

“An extra good day,” Noah cut in.

Abe’s hand rubbed up against the small of your back as he walked up behind you, pointing the boys toward the front of the house.

“Alright. That’s better. Now you two run along back in the house. Go’on.”

Jackson and Noah gave you a final wave before running back towards the front porch. Abe led you into the house, his hand still pressed into your lower back as you walked around front, past his crops, up the porch steps, and into the home. You walked into the kitchen and could see into the living room, where Jackson and Noah sat dutifully on the couch.

You sat with them as they watched TV, with Abe standing several feet away. He pulled his dress shirt, which had been tucked into his slacks, up and out from his trousers, then began to unbutton his shirt from the top down.

“I’m gonna be out in the field for a little while,” he said, his half-unbuttoned shirt revealing a white v-neck underneath, “But you come see me if you need anything, alright, darlin’?”

You nodded and smiled.

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, an’ before it slips my mind,” Abe said, his fingers working on the last couple buttons, “The boys already ate lunch, so you ain’t gotta worry about that t’day. Don’t let these two make a fool outta you.”

His shirt was fully unbuttoned now. The plaid fabric of his dress shirt hugged against his arms as he rolled up the sleeves, and the v-neck was now in full view, revealing the full length of his neck, thick and muscular between his broad shoulders, with the rest of the fabric clinging to the contours of his stomach. He gathered some tools that were strewn about the kitchen table and left the house, closing the door behind him.

With Abraham outside, you stayed in the house to care for Noah and Jackson. They didn’t require much of you; they asked for water and asked to play. Past that, they simply needed a watchful eye to ensure they didn’t get into trouble, and a willing ear to listen and keep them company. You spent about an hour with them in the home, watching TV with them, playing games, watching attentively as they showed you their favorite toys and trinkets. After a while, the three of you sat cross legged on the floor, shooting the breeze about recent happenings.

“Daddy’s always workin’, so we don’t get to talk to him a lot,” Jackson had said. “And momma’s gone, so we can’t talk to her either. I’m happy you’re here, ‘cause now it’s not all boring.”

“Mom and dad ‘re both boring,” was Noah’s response. “I like to watch daddy work. He gets mad at the fruit and the animals, but those don’t talk.”

“Then how about we go outside and watch your dad work for a little while?”

The kids hopped up and down elated and rushed out towards the door without another word spoken, sending you rushing outside to follow them. You took care to close the front door behind yourself before looking to your right, where Abe’s field of crops lay. You couldn’t see him, but heard animals shuffling, clucking, mooing, and neighing distantly to your left, and figured he was in the barn. The kids figured the same, and ran ahead of you, off toward the animals. You tried your best to follow behind, your heels digging into the dirt with each shuffling, quickened step, your hands clasped around fistfuls of your dress to hike it up, keeping your knees exposed and free to flex. As you made your way toward the barn door, you could hear commotion inside.

“What in the hell are you two doin’ out here?”

“We came outside to watch,” said who you recognized as Noah. “The babysitter said we could.”

As Noah finished speaking, you walked into the spacious, arid barn, dropping and smoothing out your dress.

“Sorry, Mr. Pritchard,” you started, pulling your dress down closer toward your knees, “The kids are a little faster than I am in heels.”

A smile spread across his face before he licked his lips, with one hand on his hip. In the other hand was a large brush.

“I c’n see that. These boys lyin’ on you, or did you really wanna see me work?”

“They’re telling the truth. We all wanted to come outside, get some fresh air, and see what was happening out here. If that’s alright with you, sir.”

Abe smirked, licking his lips again. His eyes scanned up and down, from your black heels, scuffed now with light sandy dirt, to the hem of your dress, up still to your chest and shoulders until his eyes met again with your face.

“Sounds just wonderful t’ me,” he said, straightening his posture.

“You boys stay in this barn while I’m in here, y’ understand?”

An attentive “yes, sir” came from both of them.

“And you, young lady,” he said, motioning his finger for you to come closer, “C’mere. I got some things I wanna show you.”

Following his pace toward the back of the barn, you looked around at everything; the stacks of hay and a couple sacks of grain, a box of vegetables, and rows of stables, five on each side. You could hear horses whinnying and clicking their hooves against their stable floors. Abe opened the door of the last stable on the left and stood aside, allowing you to step in before him.

Inside of the stable was a large black horse, it’s mane and tail straight and shiny, standing tall on well-manicured hooves. Abe stepped in behind you, placing his hand against the horse’s neck.

“Beautiful, ain’t she?”

“She is. What’s her name?”

“I ain’t really in the business of namin’ my animals, t’ be honest with you, ladybird.”

Abe took the brush that had been in his hand, brushing out the horse’s mane with one hand, and using the other to calm her.

“I try t’ teach the boys not t’ get too attached t’ things. Everthing’s got an end. Best not t’ make it any harder.”

Abe’s fingers wrapped around your wrist, lifting it up towards the brush in his hand. He placed your hand on top of the brush and placed his own palm on top of that, guiding your movements as you both brushed the horse’s mane. Each of his fingers rested in the spaces between yours, his palm warm, placing a light and comforting pressure against your skin. His body stepped closer behind yours until you could feel his legs and waist pressing up against your backside.

His movements were slow and deliberate, and each of them could be felt against your own skin; the warmth of his palm, every stroke of his thumb against your hand, the tickling sensation of the hair on his arm, the brush of his belt against the back of your dress each time he reached forward and back with his hand. After a while, you were in sync with the rhythm of his breathing, his v-neck rising up and down against your back with each breath, and the gentle air that whirled against your cheek each time he exhaled through his nose.

Seconds, then moments, then a couple minutes passed with Abe’s body pressed against yours before his hand released its grip, sliding gradually down the length of your forearm before dropping off at your elbow.

“I think she’s groomed up just fine for the day,” he said, taking a step back. “I got other stuff t’ do on the farm t’day, but you c’n try your hand at mountin’ her. We ain’t gotta break out the saddle an’ all that. Just a little test drive. See how you feel sittin’ on top of her.”

You agreed to try, leaving Abe with a wide, satisfied grin. He pushed over a small stepstool from the other side of the stall, positioning it at your feet. Stepping out of your heels and onto the stool, you felt Abe’s hands grip around your hips behind you, preventing you from falling. With your leg swinging over the horse’s back, Abe’s hand gripped onto your upper thigh. His hand rode up your dress as you steadied yourself, his fingertips teasing up toward your panty line. Once you were stable, you felt his hand slide down the length of your thigh, his long fingers curling around your knee before dropping off.

“Look at you,” he said, tugging your dress down to cover your exposed thighs, “You’re a natural.”

For several minutes, you straddled the horse, barefoot in your dress, stroking its black, silken mane. Every so often you could feel Abraham’s hand gripping your thigh or your sides to keep you steady, lingering for moments at a time before the next time it happened.

When it came time for you to dismount, you swung your opposite leg up and over the horse, swinging yourself to face toward Abe. You started to slide down toward the step stool on the floor before Abe’s hands wrapped around your waist, lifting you up and over the stool and onto the ground. As your toes and the balls of your feet met the ground, your fingers gripping into his shoulders, his hands slipped down further toward your hips, and backward near the small of your back. Your hands slid down his chest, and you looked up to see his eyes glaring down at you, deep brown and fixated on your lips. Your eyes darted down towards his own lips, but sharply back up to meet his eyes as you swallowed down a creeping nervousness.

“Thank you for that, Mr. Pritchard.”

Abe smiled, his fingers giving your hips a final squeeze before you felt them release, his hands now at his sides.

“Don’t mention it, honey. The pleasure’s all mine.”

Putting your heels back on and being led out of the stable by Abe, the day continued, business as usual; Jackson and Noah helped feed the animals and refill their water, you watched over them, and Abe went about his cleaning, grooming, and inventory while keeping a watchful eye on you. After the horses came the sheep, and after the sheep came the cows. Abe pulled you aside to introduce you to the newest calf, still young and stumbling, walking alongside its mother like a shadow.

“It’s the miracle of life, ain’t it?” he said. “They’re always so beautiful when they’re young.”

Thereafter came the chicken coop, loud and alive with the sound of bawking, flapping, and shuffling. Abe checked each nest box with a basket in tow, filling the basket with each egg he saw. He kept count as he went, column by column, writing down the number of eggs found in each box until he got to the last egg. After tallying them up, he placed a dozen or so eggs in a smaller basket and handed it off to Noah.

“These eggs’ll stay home with us. You an’ your brother go’on back inside and put ‘em in that carton in the fridge.”

The kids turned and walked away without a word, and Abe called out after them.

“No running, and don’t y’all drop those eggs neither!”

Jackson and Noah turned around and called back.

“Yes, sir!”

Abe walked out of the coop, large basket in tow, motioning with his head for you to follow.

“I got one more thing I’d like t’ get done t’day. I was thinkin’ maybe you could help me.”

The two of you walked back around to the front of the house, Noah and Jackson in sight as they ascended the stairs on the porch. The sky was just beginning to darken its shade of blue, with sunset creeping in, and the sun itself obscured partially by clouds. Abe picked up a shovel that leaned against the house, next to the front door, and set down the basket of eggs in its place. He walked back towards you as you stood in the crop field, where he’d asked you to stand.

“A few of these crops need t’ be dug up so I c’n plant new ones. I was thinkin’, since I taught you how t’ get on a horse, may as well teach you this, too.”

You smirked and took the shovel from Abe’s extended arm.

“Horseback riding and crop planting aren’t usually part of my day to day. Am I getting a pay raise, too?”

“Hey now,” Abe warned, stepping behind you, “Don’t get smart with me. Just consider it professional curiosity.”

You readied your foot on the blade of the shovel as Abe stood behind, his hand gripped beneath your thigh to adjust your stance. His body was warm against your own, his goatee prickly against the inside of your neck. His arms stretched out, overlapping your own, and you felt his breath against your ear as he spoke.

“That’s a girl. That’s perfect. Now really put your weight on it, just like that…”

Before the blade of the shovel could cut through the dirt, you heard a loud crash from inside the house. Your head shot upwards, as did Abe’s, as he grimaced and stomped towards the door.

“These goddamn kids—"

You laid down the shovel in the dirt and shuffled in your heels to follow behind as the front door swung open from the force of Abraham’s swing. In the kitchen, the scene was clear; there Jackson and Noah stood, by the fridge, a basket of eggs fallen to the ground. The kitchen floor covered in clear, gooey whites and thick yellow yolks, the fridge door wide open, and a carton of eggs only half full on the kitchen table. The kids looked up at their father, horrified, scrambling to find words to say. Noah was the first to speak.

“It’s Jackson’s fault.”

“It was not, Noah! Daddy, it was an accident, I swear. Noah was jumpin’ around and his arm hit the basket—”

“Did not, Jackson!”

“Did too!”

“Did no—”

“Quiet!”

Abraham’s voice reverberated off of the walls with his yell, deep and rough, rumbling up from his throat. Both children promptly stopped speaking and looked down at the floor, covered in now-drying egg, and listened.

“What did I tell y’all when I gave you these eggs?”

Noah started to respond.

“But dad, Jackson—”

“Don’t you talk back to be me, boy. You answer me. What did I say?”

The room fell silent, before another of Abe’s outbursts.

­“What did I tell you, boy?!”

“You said don’t drop the eggs.”

“And what did y’all go an’ do anyway? While I’m tryin’ t’ work? Put food on the table for y’all?”

The kids said nothing.

“All those eggs outside were s’pposed t’ go t’ market. And what now? I can’t sell ‘em all.  I gotta give some’a those up so that y’all can have eggs in the mornin’.”

Still, silence.

“Jackson,” Abe said, kneeling down in front of his kids, “D’you remember Exodus 20:12? I taught it t’you before.”

Jackson paused for a moment in thought, twirling his thumbs, before responding.

“Yes, sir. I think so.”

“Say it for me.”

“Honour thy father and thy mother… that thy days may be long on—”

“Upon.”

“That thy days may be long upon the land, which the Lord, our God—”

“Thy God.”

“…The land which the lord, thy God, giveth thee”

Abe nodded.

“Good. Now, Noah. What d’you think that means?”

Noah looked down at the floor, his arms crossed. He kicked at a fallen egg shell.”

“Noah.”

“It means we should listen t’ you an’ momma.”

Abe stood to his feet.

“Good. That’s right. An’ since y’all couldn’t listen t’ me before, you’re gonna listen t’ me now. Clean up this mess. All of it. I want this kitchen spotless, do I make myself clear?”

Both boys responded solemnly.

“Yes, sir.”

“I can’t hear y’all.”

­“Yes, sir,” echoed back, with more gusto the second time around. Abe turned to walk back towards where you stood by the front door, watching everything. Behind him, the boys knelt to the ground, picking up egg shells and wet, sloppy yolks from the ground.

“I’m sorry you had t’ see all that. I don’t blame you or nothin’. I asked for you t’ be outside with me. This one’s on them.”

“That’s okay, Mr. Pritchard.”

Abe looked down at your arm and cupped your elbow with his hand. He stroked down your forearm, to your hand, which he squeezed gently and stroked with his thumb.

“As much as I’d like t’ teach you a few more things,” he said, his eyes wandering up your arms, toward your chest and neck before he made eye contact again, “I think it might be better if you stay in the house for now. Keep an eye on the boys. Make sure they don’t break nothin’ else.”

He shot a glance behind himself at the kids, who were still knelt down and cleaning.

“I understand, Mr. Pritchard.”

“Thank you so much, darlin’. You don’t know what a big help you are t’ me.”

Abe gripped your upper arm and kissed the side of your head, before giving you a comforting rub on your back. He shot you and smile and a wink, then opened the front door to go back outside.

~

Hours passed, evening crept in swiftly. You’d helped the boys clean up in the kitchen, picking up eggshells, wiping up sticky yolks and whites, mopping the floor and wiping it dry. You went on to clean the rest of the kitchen, then help them put their toys away. All the while, the rays of light from the kitchen window dimmed into pinks and oranges, and then to the onset of dusk. The boys were upstairs putting their toys away while you stayed downstairs, wiping down the kitchen. Arm outstretched over the length of the kitchen table, the front door creaked open and shut, accentuated by the sound of heavy footsteps. You turned to see Abraham, his shirt and trousers soiled with dirt, his hair in sweaty disarray. In his hand was the larger basket you’d seen earlier, which he set promptly on the table.

“If you could put a carton’s worth’a these away in the fridge, I’d greatly appreciate it, ladybird. I trust your hands more than I trust the boys’.”

You obliged, grabbing an egg carton and beginning to arrange each egg, one by one. Abe shrugged his long sleeved shirt off of his shoulders, balling the plaid shirt in his fist, leaving him standing, watching, in his dirtied white v-neck alone.

“Us’ally I’d cook up somethin’ for dinner around this time, but I’m all wore out today. I’d like t’ take you out t’ dinner t’night instead.”

You placed a final egg in the carton and closed it.

“Dinner sounds nice. Would you like me to ask the boys what they want tonight, sir?”

“Oh. I s’ppose, if you’d like th’ kids t’ come with us, too.”

Yourself and Abe shared a quiet laughter, with Abe’s tongue peeking out between his lips.

“I’m teasin’. I’m gonna head on upstairs an’ shower, you go’on upstairs an’ get the boys dressed up as nice as you are right now, please, darlin’.”

“Yes sir.”

Abe shot you a final smile before he turned to walk upstairs, his v-neck untucked from his trousers, revealing his thick leather belt with each step he took. You followed shortly thereafter, putting the eggs in the fridge and doing a final wipe down of the kitchen, before heading into the boys’ room.

Dutifully, with the hum and patter of water from the shower next door, you picked out their clothes; short sleeve dress shirts for both boys; dark blue plaid for Jackson, and all white for Noah. You helped them with what they needed, which wasn’t much; adjusting Jackson’s misaligned buttons, smoothing out Noah’s wild hair, fixing their slightly crooked collars. As you looked over both boys, as well as your own dress and heels, the door handle jiggled and a familiarly commanding voice filled the room.

“You boys in here behavin’ for this beautiful young lady?”

Behind you stood Abe, his trousers now traded in for a pair of blue jeans which hugged his thighs, supported by a thick, brown leather belt. Apart from this, there was no clothing; his chest and stomach were exposed, his happy trail rising and falling with each deep breath he took. He leaned his forearm into the doorway and peered in, his words directed at his children, but his gaze directed toward you.

Both of them responded in unison.

“Yes, sir.”

“An’ how about you, sweetheart?” he said, unwrapping a white t-shirt in his hands. “You just about ready, too?”

You responded just the same.

“Yes sir, I am.”

“Alright. Good. Y’all head downstairs an’ we can head out, then.”

Promptly, yourself and the children went downstairs, where you found Abe, his keys dangling from his hand as he now wore the white shirt that he’d held in his hands just several moments before. Outside, while the boys hopped into the bed of the truck, you sat up front in the passenger’s seat next to Abe.  

The drive was a long one back to the center of town, with it nearing 8:30 by the time you all arrived at the restaurant. It was a quaint diner, adorned with a neon sign and long, wide windows. Inside the floor was bright white linoleum, with red booths long the walls. Several groups patrons were already inside as Abe picked a booth seat next to the window for the four of you, and you all sat and waited to be served.

“Welcome to Savvy Susan’s Bar and Grill, I’m Candy, and I’ll be your server this evenin’. What can I get y’all to drink?”

Candy was an older woman with short beach blonde hair, all in tight curls around the top of her head. Her lips were a shiny candy apple red that matched her nails, which drummed against her notepad as she awaited your orders. Abe’s judgmental gaze was nearly palatable for you, but seemed to go unrecognized by Candy. With every word that left her mouth, you could feel Abe’s eyes scanning up and down, in mild disgust and moderate bewilderment. You could practically hear him speaking in his own head; how old does this woman think she is?

Abe allowed you to order first, a glass of iced water, before he ordered for the kids and himself.

“Water for the boys here as well, please. And I’ll take a pint of beer. Thank you so much, ma’am.”

As Candy walked away, Abe turned his head to watch her shiny read heels click away toward the kitchen, well out of earshot, before he commented. He leaned in toward your ear.

“I know I’m not as young as I used t’ be,” said, glancing behind himself again. Candy had disappeared into the back of the diner.

“But I didn’t miss Halloween, did I?”

After a moment of pursed-lip laughter, only a minute or two passed before the waitress returned with drinks, after which she asked everyone what they’d like to eat. Jackson eyed a bacon cheeseburger with fries, and Fabian opted for chicken wings with his fries instead. Abe ordered a dinner of steak, a baked potato, and broccoli, while you ordered baked chicken, rice, and veggies for yourself. The food arrived in short order, by which time Abe had already finished his first beer. Asking for a second and saying grace with linked hands, everyone settled in for their meal.

Conversation over dinner was casual, with small talk over the quality of the food, the scenery, and whether or not to get dessert (the kids suggested it, and it was swiftly turned down by Abe). After finishing his second beer, Abe asked for a glass of whiskey, straight, along with his check; upon paying for the meal and tipping Candy a generous twenty dollars (“for a new costume, maybe”, he’d said after Candy parted ways), he threw back the whiskey in one gulp before motioning yourself and his children out of the door.

The kids rushed full speed for the car, while you and Abe lingered by the front door of the diner. Abe twirled his keys on his finger, his boots dragging along the ground with slow, heavy steps. He didn’t stumble, but the reeking scent of alcohol on his breath prompted you to speak.

“Mr. Pritchard?”

He turned his head upward, his keys rattling in his hand.

“Maybe I should drive tonight.”

Abe laughed once, then a second time, then laughed a few more times, clasping his keys tighter in his hand.

“Sweetie, I appreciate your concern. I do,” he said. He held out his hand, palm side down.

“But I’m not drunk. See my hand? It’s steady as ever. I’m good t’ drive us on home.”

He turned to walk again towards the truck, but was stopped again by the sound of your voice.

“Sir.”

You could see him scratching his forehead with his thumb before turning back around to face you.

“Darlin’, I’m fine.”

“Mr. Pritchard—”

“Are you kiddin’ me?” he snapped back. “Does this really mean that much t’ you?”

You paused, seeing the annoyance in his face, and his clenched fists. You tried to respond as gently as you could.

“Yes, Mr. Pritchard,” you said, glancing toward the truck. You saw Jackson and Noah sitting in the back, watching the two of you talk.

“It does.”

Abe sighed and rolled his eyes. You felt a lump grow in your throat as he took a few stomping steps toward you. He grabbed you by your wrist and slapped his keys in your palm, then curled your fingers shut around them.

“Might I ask for a favor in return, then?”

“Yes, sir.”

“If you don’t want me t’ drive, then I can’t drive you home. And you can’t drive yourself home, ‘cause you don’t want me drivin’ all that ways back t’ my house. So if you’re gonna drive, seems t’ me like you’re gonna be stayin’ the night. I’ll pay you double for your time.”

Abe’s hands were now cupping your own, his thumb stroking against the side of your hand.

“You don’t have to pay me extra, Mr. Pritchard. I just wanna do what’s right.”

Abe smiled and uncapped your hands, moving them up toward your forearms. His wedding ring felt cool against your skin compared to the warm grasp of his fingers.

“You’re an angel. You really are.”

His hands moved up to your forearms, which he cupped just the same.

“But I insist. I’ll be payin’ for your time t’night.”

Abe smirked and released his grip before heading back toward his truck, with you quick-stepping behind to keep up. You both loaded into the truck at the same time, the car doors slamming shut asynchronously, the kids laughing carelessly in the back. Turning to your side to reach for your seat belt, you felt a hand slide up and squeeze your thigh. As you turned back to click the belt into place, Abe’s face came into view, lit just barely by moonlight.

“I owe you an apology, I think.”

You turned the key in the ignition, only glancing down for a moment at Abe’s hand. His fingers were partially beneath your dress, and his thumb stroked just above your knee.

“What for?”

“Bein’ cross with you. Snappin’ at you the way I did just then. You just wanna be safe. As a God-fearin’ man, I should’a respected that. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Mr. Pritchard. Really.”

You felt him squeeze your knee once more before sliding his hand off of your leg, and into his own lap. He leaned back in his seat, his eyes closed.

“An’ thank you again for agreein’ t’ stay the night. I promise t’ make it worth your while.”

~

It was past ten o’clock by the time you’d all arrived home. The boys had finally wound down, ready and eager to rush upstairs and fall face-first on their beds. As their shoes pattered up the stairs, you began to follow, but were stopped by a gentle pull on your arm.

“No, no, darlin’. Don’t worry about them. They’ll be just fine. You should rest a while.”

“Are you sure?” you said. “I’m here for the night, sir. It’s really no problem at all.”

Abe smiled, rubbing the middle of your back, his eyes averted toward your chest for what felt like minutes before he looked back into your eyes.

“And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not. Galatians, chapter six, verse nine. You’ve done good work for me t’day, sweetheart. Relax a while on the couch. Reap your reward. I insist.”

Taking a last look toward the top of the stairs, you obediently sat yourself on the couch. Removing your heels, you felt a rush of relief crawl up your spine, finally resting your aching feet on the flat floor and allowing them room to breathe. Meanwhile, Abe could be heard rummaging through the liquor cabinet just a few feet away, grabbing a bottle of whiskey with a short glass in hand. As you rubbed your sore feet, Abe filled the glass to the brim, taking a long sip.

“May I join you?”

Scooting over on the couch, you allowed Abe room to sit to your right. He threw his weight down onto the couch, taking care not to spill his liquor, and kicked off his shoes. He lifted his feet to rest on the coffee table and leaned his head back, his eyelids drooping downward. His white t-shirt rose up just barely from his waist, a sliver of exposed skin showing just above his belt.

The room was quiet and dark, with every light turned out, and the thick curtains obscuring any windows. The only light source was a dim lamp next to the couch, which didn’t go a long way in illuminating the room. The only noise was the faint hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen, and the occasional sip of whiskey between Abe’s lips. Your eyes strayed to look over at him, barely lit by the yellowed lamp light. Eyes still closed, he tapped his wedding band lightly against his glass. You both sat in relative silence for a while, resting your eyes but not quite sleeping, before Abe stood abruptly, gulping down the rest of his whiskey.

“I forgot,” he declared, standing and stretching, “You gotta have some place t’ sleep. I can get some blankets and everything for you. I’ll be back.”

Before you could respond, he was up the stairs, a wobbly but not quite stumbling inebriation in his gait. Some thudding and shuffling echoed downstairs while he was out of your sight, but he came back punctually, a large comforter and a couple of pillows in tow. His feet pounded heavily against the stairs and against the floor boards, his uneven stroll worsening with each step, his balance suffering as his mind remained occupied on what he carried in his arms. With a last clumsily placed step toward you and the couch, his balance gave way completely.

The comforter strewn about the floor. The pillows fallen haphazardly on the couch. Abe himself had fallen on top of you, his hips between your legs, his hands pressed down into the couch on either side of your head to keep his balance. Despite the counter pressure of your hands wrapped around his sides, the weight of his body pressed your own body deeper into the cushions of the couch. The two of you breathed for several moments in silence, the scent of whiskey on his breath beating against your nose and cheeks.

“You alright, doll?”

Still under the spell of a stunned silence, you only nodded and stared for a few moments before responding.

“Yeah. Yes, yes, sir, I’m okay.”

“Good. I’m glad. Maybe you were right not t’ let me drive. I can’t even take a goddamn step.”

The two of you shared a laugh, but once the laughter subsided, you were left to do nothing but stare. Abe didn’t move, and neither did you. The reflection of the couch-side lamp shone in his eyes, brown like chocolate. The graying hairs on his head and in his goatee were in full view, his liquor stained lips just hovering above yours.

Bringing his thumb up to your bottom lip, he traced the outline of your mouth. From corner to corner, his thumbprint skimming over the edge of your lips, up and around to your cupid’s bow, pulling down to reveal the wet, pink inside of your mouth. He pushed his thumb forward between your parted lips, swirling it over the top and tip of your tongue. Your heart pounded against the inside of your chest as you watched him, too stunned and confused to move; Behind his eyes was nothing; only a transfixed stare directed toward the inside of your mouth.

He stayed in place, enjoying the sensation of his thumb swirling above and below your tongue. When he finally pulled it out, slowly and attentively, a string of your spit stuck to his thumb. Twirling it over and over again in circles, he broke the string and wiped the spit back into your lips, now glistening wet.

His fingers worked downward, snaking beneath your neck. His nose tickled against your own as he brought his lips closer to touch yours. The kiss was soft and shallow, and you could just barely taste the alcohol on his lips. He pulled your neck forward toward him for a second time, his tongue this time lapping into your mouth, long and booze-stained like his breath, your mouth coated in the taste of aged whiskey. The third kiss moved on just the same, deeper now, the full weight of his chest bearing down on your body. Before the fourth, you slid your hand up to his chest and pushed, gently, until his lips broke away.

“Mr. Pritchard—”

With a thumb over your lips, he pouted his lips to shush you. He spoke in a low whisper.

“Shhhh, beautiful. Diana doesn’t have t’ know,” he cooed. “There’s a scripture. From Corinthians, I think. No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it. And this here is my way out.”

Abe’s hand slid down the length of your neck and to your chest, where he squeezed your breast. Bending down, he licked from your collarbone up your neck, nipping at your jawline and teasing his lips beneath your chin. Glancing down at his hand, which rubbed up and down your chest, his fingers skimming over your nipples, you noticed the absence of his wedding ring. On his left ring finger there was only the reddened indentation where his ring used to be. He brought his head back up, touching his nose against your own, smiling with a satisfied exhale.

“I don’t know about you,” he said, pausing to place several more kisses along your throat, “But I’m excited to make a pretty young girl like you feel good.”

He kissed down the length of your body, trailing kisses over your dress. His hands gripped into your thighs, his head nearing closer to your waist. He lifted your dress, exposing your panties as his tongue lapped against the skin beneath your belly button. Fingers curling beneath the hem of your underwear. Tugging them down past your knees. Pulling them off and over your feet. He crumpled the panties in his hands and brought them up to his nose, closing his eyes with a deeply satisfied inhale. As he took in your scent, one of his hands slid down his own body, gripping his length through his jeans. He inhaled again, this time with a low grumble. Upon opening his eyes, he smirked, sitting up on his knees.

“Let’s see how wild you young girls can get these days.”

He brought your panties toward your mouth, and used his fingers to push them past your lips. Your panties, light and lacy, dangled past your lips as Abe lifted your legs, his goatee and graying hair obscured by your thighs.

You closed your eyes and gave in to the sensation of his tongue working between the lips of your pussy. The tip of his tongue snaked its way into your hole, in and out, coated with the taste of you. He lapped it upwards between your lips, stopping at your clit. His tongue worked up and down against each side, his lips pursing around your clit each time he stopped to swallow. His past was eager, his tongue struggling to find a place to settle; he wanted to taste everything, feel everything, gauge the reaction of everything he could do. He moaned with satisfaction watching you squirm and arch your back. Your fingers took a fistful of his aging hair to hold him in place as he worked. Behind your closed eyes and inside of your chest, you felt surges of guilt. Her name racked your brain relentlessly. Diana. Diana. What about Diana?

Abraham continued licking you out unabated. The scruff and stubble of his goatee felt prickly against your pussy, and tickled your thighs each time he stopped to worship your inner thighs. Kissing, licking biting, scraping his teeth; he felt alive, he was desperate for more of you, and the feeling was strong enough for you to feel it too, your panties clenched between your teeth as you stifled your moans. Abe continued his pace unabashedly as his finger slid inside of you, twirling in circles so that he could feel every inch of the inside of you. You opened your eyes for only a moment, glancing up toward the banister of the stairs, ensuring there was no sign of the kids. Looking down toward your waist, you were met with Abe’s unwavering stare, lit up by the lamp that sat behind your head. He lifted his head up from between your legs and licked his lips, a trail of your wetness stretching from his wet, glistening lips.

“How am I doin’ so far?”

Your lids drooped sluggishly over your eyes, your body only aching for the touch of his tongue; not a conversation. Abe’s free hand removed the panties from your mouth, allowing you to respond.

“Really good.”

Abe cocked his eyebrow and nodded, A second finger entered inside of you, with more force this time, this thumb rubbing against your clit.

“I hope you didn’t forget how t’ address me properly. Try again.”

“It feels really good Mr. Pritchard.”

“Would you like me t’ keep goin’ then, beautiful?”

“Yes sir,” you exhaled. “Please.”

With a satisfied smirk, Abe’s lips kissed against your pussy. He started with light, fluttering kisses against your clit, and worked down your lips. Reaching the end, his tongue again slipped inside of you, swirling, circling, zig-zagging against every part of your pussy. He took your panties and shoved them again inside of your mouth as he licked and sucked faster around your clit. You reached out your hand to run your fingers through his hair, and guide him gently to stay in place. In your stomach you could feel it; the urge to cum. Your heels rested against his back as you curled and uncurled your toes, your body prepping for release beyond your control. You could feel his intense stare, the squeezing of his hands against your thighs, acutely aware of the twisting and contorting of your body. You could almost see a smirk as he watched you suffer, suffer in the best way imaginable the more he teased; pausing his licks, licking elsewhere, taking his fingers in and out of your pussy. The closer you came to climax, the tighter you squeezed your thighs around his head.

His whiskey stained breath wafted up from between your legs with the arching of your back and the clenching of your jaw. The throbbing between your legs was too intense for you to do anything more than allow your eyes to role in the back of your head, your teeth bearing down on the wet panties in your mouth. Abe watched you throw your head backwards in ecstasy, his tongue still moving at a steady pace, subsiding as the contortion and twisting of your hips began to quell. The throbbing began to dissipate, and Abe removed his fingers from inside of you. They were covered in your warm wetness from top to bottom, and he put both fingers in his mouth to taste you. His hand stroked against the crotch of his jeans and squeezed.

“You taste just about perfect, darlin’.”

Abe stood up from the floor and sat himself on the couch. While one hand snuck between your legs, rubbing between your now-dripping-wet lips, the other worked to unbuckle his jeans. He pulled your head in toward his to kiss you, the sound of him unbuckling and unzipping his jeans audible as you tasted his tongue and traces of yourself. He bit your bottom lip and reached his hand into his underwear, pulling out his cock and leaving one last parting kiss on your lips

He leaned back on the couch and allowed you room to bend over to the side of him, your ass in the air, your knees sunk into the couch cushions, and your mouth licking his shaft. You tugged down his underwear just an inch more to pull out his balls, which you cupped in your hand as your tongue dragged over both of them. A moaning laugh left Abe’s throat as he watched, his fingers wrapped around the back of your neck and head to guide your mouth.

“I don’t think I’ve felt anything like that in a long time, sweetie,” he moaned out. “Not the sorta thing D’s into these days.”

The mention of his wife sent another surge of guilt fumbling around the pit of your stomach, but you ignored it more quickly this time. His balls were coated and wet with your spit from minutes of sucking, licking, and teasing. You moved on to his cock, the thick shaft resting in your hand as you licked him from base to tip. Taking the head into your mouth, you stayed around the tip, your tongue spinning in circles, your hand twisting up and down his shaft. Abe moaned, just loud enough for you to hear, squeezing the back of your neck and holding you in place.

Gradually working down toward the base of his shaft, you felt Abe’s hand reaching up and over your back, pulling your dress up to fully expose yourself. His finger rubbed between the lips of your pussy, as he watched your head bob up and down in his lap. After only several minutes, your hand massaging his balls and your lips halfway down his shaft, he pulled your head up and off of him.

“Get on your knees. On the floor. I wanna see that pretty face while you do it.”

You obliged without thinking twice. Up on your knees you sat in your dress, saliva running down your chin and dripping down Abe’s shaft. You leaned forward between his knees and gripped onto his thighs, maneuvering his cock into your mouth with your tongue. You resumed your sucking where you had been, midway down his shaft, and looked up into his eyes. He was peering down at you, watching your movements and guiding your head. As he noticed your obedient stare upwards, he smiled and licked his lips.

“Good girl. I love it.”

Satisfied with yourself, you continued, stretching out your tongue to massage his shaft. His cock worked deeper and deeper down your throat. You felt his abs and his lightly hairy stomach with your hand, dragging your nails across his skin. He smiled and chuckled, biting his lip to suppress a moan. His hand pressed harder against the back of your neck, forcing you down nearly to the base of his shaft. You held your breath and closed your eyes, trying your best to move your tongue and stretch your aching jaw around his girth. You gagged against the sensation of the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat, and Abe moaned contentedly in response. Several more seconds brought on a second gag before he finally allowed you to lift your head, streams of spit and bubbles trickling down the length of his cock.

“Goddamn, sweetheart,” he said with a toothy grin, “Talk about teachin’ an old dog some new tricks—”

Before he could finish his sentence, the swinging of a bedroom door and the stomping of footsteps reverberated in the hallway above. Both Abraham and yourself scrambled to straighten out your clothes and reach for the comforter on the floor to cover yourselves. Descending the stairs was Noah, in his pajamas, yawning and peering curiously at the scene in the living room. You looked over at Abe, but didn’t need to look into his eyes to feel how furious he was, glaring at his son with pure, seething, malice.

“What in the hell are you doin’ down here this late?” he scolded. His words startled Noah, who seemed to be on the brink of sleep.

“I wanted some water.”

Abe clenched his jaw.

“Get your ass back upstairs.”

“But—”

“Now!”

Noah turned sharply and rushed back upstairs, his small feet pattering against the floorboards towards his door until his bedroom door clicked shut. Abe leaned back into the couch, rubbing his temples.

“These goddamn kids,” he mused. “These goddamn kids are gonna be the death’a me one day.”

He leaned back in discontent for only a few moments longer before he reached out abruptly to grab your wrist and stand.

“C’mon doll,” he said, tugging you toward the stairs, “Let’s go someplace more quiet.”

Abraham swiftly lead you up the stairs, your panties in his free hand, and to his own bedroom, closing and locking the door behind you. No sooner than he turned the deadbolt were his lips again pressed into yours, his tongue snaking its way in and out of our mouth. In his hands he cupped your ass, squeezing the cheeks, pushing your hips closer into him. You could feel he was still hard beneath his jeans as his lips parted from yours, moving to your chin and up your jaw The hairs of his goatee sent a chill up your spine as they brushed feverishly against your neck, paired with the wet warmth of Abe’s tongue. He pulled away and kissed your cheek, then your forehead, and handed you your panties.

“Here. Put these back on. I wanna see you strip for me.”

Abe led you to the center of the room, in front of the foot of his bed. He turned you around, your backside now met with the sensation of his length pressing tightly against his jeans, and slowly unzipped your dress. As more and more of the skin from your back became exposed, Abe kissed every inch, his lips and tongue exploring your shoulder blades and the dip of your back. Once he got to the end of the zipper, he kissed inside of the crook of your neck.

“You c’n take it from here, baby girl.”

Abe turned you back around to face him. Pulling up a chair against the wall in front of you, he sat and anxiously awaited your next move.

With Abe sat just in front of you with his legs spread apart, his hand squeezing and stroking the length of his shaft through his jeans, you began to strip. Sliding each arm of your little back dress off of your shoulders. Sliding each side down the length of your arms. Pausing to rub your hands up your own stomach and chest, then pulling the dress down further still. Exposed stomach, the hem of your panties peeking out from beneath the zipper. You turned around to pull the dress down past your hips, bending over at the waist, knowing the lips of your pussy, covered only by white lace, were in Abe’s full view. Stepping out of the dress completely, you turned back around to see Abe, his mouth slightly agape as he stared with full, unwavering attention at your body. He’d pulled his jeans down more, and rubbed himself, his thumb stroking just beneath his head, now only through is underwear.

Unclipping your bra. Sliding the straps past your shoulders. Letting it fall to the ground. Abe fought the urge to reach out and touch your body, and instead, admired your shape without touching. Before you could pull down your panties, he spoke.

“No, no, no, darlin’,” he warned. “Not yet. Leave those on.”

He licked his lips and nodded.

“Get up on the bed. Let me watch you touch yourself.”

And onto the bed you went. Adjusting his pillows to make it more comfortable, you leaned back on his bed and spread your legs. You touched yourself first over your panties, mimicking Abe, who still only massaged his length through his boxers. You arched your back and bucked your hips, slipping your hand beneath the hem of your underwear. Cupping one breast with your hand, the middle finger on your other hand rubbed between your lips. You closed your eyes and moaned for him. You focused on the sensation of your own warmth, your own wetness, the feeling of that wetness working up toward your clit. You slid your own finger inside, fingering yourself, your hand working at a modest pace for Abe to watch. Soon, Abe’s on hand disappeared beneath his boxers, stroking his head and massaging his balls, all of his movements obscured.

After several minutes of play, Abe stood and took off his shirt. You continued to touch yourself as you watched, his hands covered in thick veins, some of those veins carrying their way up his forearm. You stared at his stomach as he slid his belt out of the loops and doubled it over in his hands.

“Bend over.”

You removed your hand from your underwear, your fingers coated in your own mess. Before you turned around to bend, Abe grabbed your wrist to bring your fingers to his mouth, sucking your juices off of your fingers. He licked his lips and cocked his eyebrow with a confident smirk before turning you around, your feet planted on the floor, and your body bent over his bed.

You waited knowingly. His hand grabbed one of your ass cheeks and squeezed before it reeled backward. It came back down with a thunderous slap and a delayed stinging pain.

He did the same on the other cheek. Another stinging pain. He did it once more on each cheek, squeezing and grabbing each time, your ass becoming warm with the rush of blood, or body tingling with adrenaline. A long pause passed with  no sound, no action. Only quiet. Dead quiet, aside from minute shuffling. Until..

Abe’s leather belt slapped with a sudden force against the back of your thighs. You shrieked minutely and Abe quickly shushed you, putting his hand over your mouth.

“Not so loud, baby girl,” he whispered. “Just lemme have one more.”

You braced yourself for the next one, and it came without hesitation. The thick leather strap left a searing pain against your thighs, and Abe rubbed his hand over every mark he left, soothing the pins-and-needles sensation that cascaded throughout your lower body.

“That’s a girl. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Abe tossed his belt to the floor and pulled down his jeans and underwear. His bottom half was left fully exposed for the first time tonight; his hairy legs, much like the hair on his stomach. His thighs, thick and toned, flexing as he stepped out of his jeans and tossed them aside. When they hit the floor, you heard a metallic clang against the wall. Averting your eyes toward the wall, his wedding ring stood out, golden and thrown to the floor, having fallen out of his pocket. Before you could register any residual guilt, Abe spoke.

“I’ll let you lead this time,” he said. “Show me somethin’ a young girl like you c’n surprise an old dog like me with.”

You took your eyes off of the wedding ring, and fixated them back on Abraham. He stood, expectantly, waiting for your command. You shook the ring from your mind without a second thought.

“Could you lay down for me, Mr. Pritchard?”

“Yes, ma’am”, Abe teased. He laid down back first on his bed, with you crawling on top of him. Straddling him, you positioned him between your legs and slowly eased him into you. You could feel him stretching your pussy as you eased down farther on his length. Feeling your wetness ease down his cock, Abe moaned and squeezed your hips. He bit his lip and laughed at himself, bucking his hips upward to feel more of you.

“Sorry about that, darlin’,” he chuckled. “I just ain’t felt somethin’ as good as that in a long time.”

You smiled down at him, his deep brown eyes gazing up at your body. His hands wandered up your stomach and chest as your hips grinded against him, up and down, forward and back. You pressed your hands into his chest for leverage, and he cupped both of your breasts with his hands. Squeezing, twisting, pulling at your nipples, rubbing them between his fingers and watching them bounce with each of your movements. He sat up in his elbows, just enough to reach your breasts with his lips, and flicked his tongue against your nipples. He switched sides, from left to right, sucking and biting around each breast as you continued to ride him. You controlled the rhythm as he laid back and enjoyed every passing minute, laying back down, flat on his back, allowing you to do the work. He watched his length pump in and out of your pussy, throwing his head back on his pillow, black and gray hairs beginning to fall out of place in disarray.

“You young girls are tight, aren’t you?” he jeered. “Nice and tight.”

As you continued to ride, you felt his hips buck up and down to meet each of your own. Slowly but surely, he gained more control; your grinding became his thrusting; your nails digging into his chest became his hands gripped around your wrists. His moans became hours, until you relented to him, his hips bucking upwards and into your clit as you sat on top of him. As he continued, harder and faster, your moans became louder and more reckless. To quell your noises, Abe placed his index finger in your mouth and watched you suckle on it, his eyes glossed over with a barely containable mixture of pleasure and awe.

Minutes passed by without hesitation, but eventually, Abe sat up. He pulled out wrapping his arms around you and laying you on your back. He buried his face into the crook of your neck against the pillow on which you laid your head, and reached his hand between your legs to reposition himself. He grinded his hips up against you, his length stroking between your lips, his head grazing over your clit with each upward thrust. Your fingernails gripped into his back and shoulders on the last thrust, and as he finally slid himself into your toes curled inward on both feet. You groaned and moaned the deeper he pushed inside of you, until Abe had to quiet your moans with a hand over your mouth.

“Quiet, sweet girl,” he whispered. “I know you like it. It’s big, isn’t it?”

You nodded.

“Feels good, don’t it?”

Again, you nodded.

“I know. It feels good t’ me too. But you gotta be quiet.”

With his hand still covering your mouth, Abe rocked his hips back, and thrusted sharply again forward. You squeezed your thighs in toward his stomach and groaned, met with a proud grin from Abe. He kept himself propped up on his fist as he thrusted in and out of you, staring into your eyes and taking delight in your moans and whines. He removed his hand from your mouth for only a second before your mouth was met with his lips, still ripe with the scent of whiskey. Your tongues intertwined as Abe continued to thrust, some of his moans escaping into your mouth. His pace began to slow, and his kisses became softer along your cheek. His goatee raked against your cheek as he leaned his forehead into yours, your noses touching, side by side. You ran your fingers through his thick, dark brown hair, and stroked your finger against his goatee. He lifted his head and stared down into your eyes, his hips bucking against your thighs, each time with a gentle slap.

“You’re such a beautiful young lady.”

You exhaled.

“Thank you, Mr. Pritchard.”

“Definitely a lot better than anything I’ve had lately.”

Before you could respond, he leaned down for another kiss, allowing his lips to linger before he pulled away, leaving a trail of boozy breath behind.

Abe sighed and sat up on his knees, pulling your body down, closer to him. He grabbed one of your wrists in each hand and pinned them next to your head, beginning to thrust now faster than before. He leaned in towards your face, panting lightly as he continued thrusting, watching your lips part with each moan.

Your toes once again began to curl, with a buildup of pleasure growing inside of you. As Abe continued to thrust, his thighs slapping into your own, you felt a warm gush of liquid between your legs. Abe pulled out and looked down, his expression reminiscent of shock or surprise as he rubbed his fingers between your lips.

“Jesus,” he said. “I ain’t never seen that before. I hope that was a good thing.”

You licked your lips at the feeling of his fingertips rubbing around your clit.

“It was, sir.”

“Alright then,” he said, putting his hands on your hips. “Good. Flip over for me.”

You flipped over from your back and onto your hands and knees. Nothing happened for a moment, until you felt his tongue behind you, working up from between your pussy lips towards your ass. Abe’s tongue pressed up against your hole, his lips kissing the inside of your cheeks. He used his hands to spread your cheeks apart as his tongue worked, for several minutes, working between your ass and taint. In short order, Abe straightened his posture and put his hand in the small of your back, entering you from behind. You rested your head against the bed, leaving your ass in the air, both of Abe’s hands now caressing your hips. His fingers squeezed into your waist as he pulled you into each of his thrusts. Every now and again, you felt a familiar stinging against your ass and thighs, Abe’s heavy hand slapping with an impassioned force against your ass. Your head remained pressed into the sheets, a fistful of comforter in each hand.

Abe wet his finger in his mouth, soon after which a sudden wetness could be felt against your second hole, along with the probing of Abe’s finger. With just a few more moments of pressure, you could feel his middle finger slide into your ass, curling and bending inside of you as he continued to fuck your pussy. There you laid now, bent over on your knees, struggling to contain your exasperated moans; his finger twisting inside of you, his balls hitting against your clit which each of his powerful thrusts.

Minutes passed by, and you suddenly felt Abe’s finger pull out of your ass. The weight of his body got heavier and heavier against your back as he leaned forward, more and more until the full weight of his body was pressed into your back. With his face now so close to yours, you could feel each of his labored liquor breaths puff past your ear. He worked his hands beneath your body, cupping your breasts, grinding as deeply inside of you as he could manage. His lips kissed in circles against your shoulder, then came up to kiss your ear. He began to moan and groan, his thrusts growing faster and harder.

“You ready, pretty girl?”

You moaned a yes in response, and Abe buried his face into the crook of your neck. You could feel everything; his goatee, his fingers squeezing your chest, his huffing and puffing, the vibration of his moans, the pressure of his body pushing you down into his mattress.

Abe took one hand off of your breast and grabbed your hand, his fingers closed in around the spaces between your own. His moans grew louder and less controlled the closer he came to climax, until finally, he let out one last grunting moan, his hand squeezing yours tight. His cock throbbed inside of you, and you could feel the warmth of his cum filling you up.

He stayed inside you for a time, breathing heavily, sitting up only to marvel your body. He left a parting kiss in the middle of your back, just between your shoulder blades, and pulled out, shuffling off the bed to stand at the edge of the bed. He gently lifted your head by the chin, guiding your head over to his shaft. Intuitively, you opened your mouth to lick it clean.

You licked the cum that had dripped down his balls, you worked up to the shaft to taste his cum and yourself. As you licked him clean, you could feel his cum dripping out of your pussy and down the length of your thigh. Behind him, on the other side of the room, you still saw his wedding ring, neglected on the floor. The pangs of guilt you’d been having all night seemed to have subsided; you glanced for only a moment more at the ring before you locked eyes with Abe, licking every drop off cum off of his cock. Putting him in your mouth once more, you worked him down your throat and sucked the remaining cum out of his shaft. Without command, you lifted your head and opened your mouth to show him his cum before you swallowed it down. He smirked and ran his thumb over your lips, bending down to kiss your lips, then the middle of your forehead.

“I appreciate your time, sweetie, I really do,” he said. “Maybe I should have you workin’ overtime more often.”