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raffe156 · 2 years ago

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Escape to the country part 4

Pairing - Price X MC (Tank) F!reader

Summary - This one broke me a little bit close to 6K but hope you love it strap in!

For Luke I had this image of Henry cavill in my head sorry if he's not your cup of tea.

You can read the other parts here

A/N - I really appreciate all the recent feedback and asks! Please keep em coming! It only spurs me on haha feel free to reblog 💖

Here's some of the songs I listened to while writing this and what I think goes well with reading:

Mt. Joy - “Dirty Love”

Foster the people - “Lambs wool”

Tame Impala - “Eventually”

Beach house - “Space song”

Steve Lacy -”Dark red” (Of course)

Lorde - “Ribs” (This one is more for Tank & Kyle)

Phantogram - “Black out days”

Maneskin - “The Loneliest”

Young the Giant - “My way”

Sufjan Stevens - “Fourth of July” (Had to get the depression just right)

Warnings for the whole storyline - Under 18+ DNI, angst, Smut, Language, mutual pining, alcohol,fluff, Age gap Relationship feelings, Price (39) reader (Tank, 25)

Tags: @irnbru32 @shuttlelauncher81 @mildlyhopeless @mentallynot-here @deadbranch @soapyghost

I know I had more tag request but for some reason it wont let me tag you guys!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Call of duty characters Only Tank & Luke

——————————

You were sat at the kitchen table listening to Kyle talk about how he had had the best night's sleep of his life, you, on the other hand, had spent the last remaining hours lying awake unable to close your eyes as when you did your mind was filled with the images of Price and her, tangled up in his sheets, bodies crashed together, him whispering how she feels so good under him, how he wants her and she of course wants him. His grunts and groans, Images of them just being together in the house, walking around like she owned the place, cuddled up together in front of the fire…just like he had done with you…She must have been round more recently than Price had initially said for her underwear to be under his bed, he had said she came when it wasn’t even liveable so that now of course you knew wasn't true, you tormented yourself for the rest of the night wondering when she had come to ‘visit’ him.

“Take it you didn't get much sleep last night, I can tell by your face…I’ve seen that look before”

“What look?”

“The one on your face right now, you look like shit, sorry but you do Tank, what’s up?”

“Thanks…I'm just super tired, couldn't really sleep last night, unfamiliar you know me”

“I do an that’s why I call bullshit…something else is wrong…did something happen last night after I went to bed? I noticed you weren’t behind me when I went up”

You shifted in your seat, god dammit he did know you, knew you very well, but you couldn’t tell him the reason you had been up all night was because your Captain had shagged the Irish Doctor and you were jealous, well not jealous upset that he had lied…but yeh jealous because you had these messed up feelings that you couldn't make sense of and felt or at least had an indication that he felt the same way? Instead You looked at him giving him a weak smile.

“No nothing happened ha ha I came up not long after you, like I said just unfamiliar setting that’s all, but I could do with a coffee please if your making one”

Kyle could see right through you, but he thought best not to push and hoped that given time you would tell him what was going on in that head of yours, he only wanted to help.

“Fair enough, I did see that Cap got us that shitty cold brew stuff that we love so much? Want one of them? Perk you up a bit you miserable cow?”

His grin made you smile a genuine one. Even when he didn't have a clue what was going on her knew how to help.

“Yeh go on then, I’ll need it for this walk today…and just today in general”

“Oh yeh nature hike and a pub dinner didn't he say? Wonder if he’s even up?” Kyle glanced over at the clock on the wall 9:30am it wasn't like Price to stay in past 6, maybe off-duty Price was different?

“Wanna go wake him up? Ill make you a brew to take up to him?”

“Erm no you go wake him up, I got him in bed you can get him out of it…” you stopped realising that you had just dropped yourself in it.

“I'm sorry what? You got him in bed did you just say?” Kyle was on you like a rash. His face puzzled but intrigued. You shooed him away and put your hand out for your drink that he was withholding from you now for answers.

“Gods sake Kyle give me the coffee, I came down for a herbal tea because I couldn't sleep and he was down here drunk as a skunk so I helped him up to bed that’s all” you were getting tetchy now and Kyle could tell he’d touched a nerve.

“Oh ok, hey if you hadn’t he would of ended up sleeping down here I bet haha”

“Yeh I would have done and had a bad back to show for it! Thanks again for that Kid” Price walked into the kitchen as he passed you he rubbed your back with his hand. The heat you got from his touch would have made you smile normally, but this time it caused your body to flinch forward. The movement went unnoticed by Price as he made his way over to the kettle to pour himself a brew.

“Weathers just right for a walk today, couple hours out then we can come back get showered and changed and go to the local gastro pub for dinner how does that sound?” Price smiled at you both, but he lingered on you for a minute longer, his eyes bright, blue and hopeful. You returned it with a smile. You couldn’t help it, all you saw was her perched on the counter with a glass of wine as he cooked. Maybe you should just go home…

**********

Price glanced back at you trailing behind him and Kyle, your head somewhere else entirely. His stomach a mixture of butterflies and knots since this morning when he had woken up remembering how you had found him downstairs drunk, how you had been stood with just a T-shirt on, his T-shirt you had kept it, he thought about how it would smell like you now and how he wanted it back, or better yet wanted you two to share it.

If you hadn’t of stopped him last night he would have told you how he felt, how he had been feeling for some time and that maybe, just maybe you would be willing to give him a chance, and you would figure the rest out later, but this morning you seemed off somehow. Maybe you were just tired he knew how you could be with new places.

You noticed Price looking back at you every so often, each time you gave him a weak smile or just pretended you hadn’t clocked his looks. How long were you going to keep this up for? You didn’t have the right to be jealous, but the thoughts were swirling inside you making you stomach churn, he was going to want to talk to you at some point either about last night or just your shitty attitude in general.

“You ok back there, not going to fast for you are we?” Price stopped just a few feet ahead of you. His eyes giving you a secret “what's the matter” look as Kyle walked ahead to greet the herd of highland cows that had gather along the cobble wall.

“Im fine really, just tired couldn’t get back to sleep last night” you weren’t exactly lying. You glanced up at him finally making eye contact, he looked worried as though he had done something wrong, and he hadn’t, not really he had lied to you but it wasn’t really your business to know either he didn't owe you an explanation you just expected one and that was wrong of you, but you couldn't get the image of it out of your head every time you glanced at him there she was draped on his arm, nuzzled into his chest, face in the crook of his neck. Had he also given her this waterproof jacket to or even walked this same trail, what little trinket did he have in his room for her? It was bubbling up now spitting up an out you opened your mouth to speak but it was interrupted by a loud whistle, you both snapped round to see the herd of cows all marching away from the wall, but as they parted you noticed a tall man walking over to greet Kyle on the other side.

“Alright Pricey!” he waved over at you both his eyes giving you the once over before flashing a set of perfect white teeth. Price gave a little huff at the interaction walking over to the wall. You followed close behind. Pricey?

“Alright Luke mate, how’s things?” Price nodded his head at the man. As you got a closer look at him he seemed to forget Price had even spoke and instead watched as you walked around Price to stand near Kyle who was halfway over the wall stroking a baby cow.

“Yeh…good keeping these lots happy is busy work but the best kind” Luke nodded back to the herd of about 20 cows.

“I’ve been meaning to speak to you actually about the dead oak that’s round the back of the houses, I’ve got a mate who can get it moved for us I meant to knock on yesterday but seen you had guests…” His words trailed off as he glanced at you again giving you a wink. He was a brave one you thought. Price puffed his chest out once again. He was obviously irritated by the situation. Did Luke live next door to price?

“Yeh I'll get it sorted, give me you mates number ill give him a ring when I get chance got my hands full with these two this weekend”

You waved as you introduced yourself, giving Kyle a kick to do the same.

“Didn’t know you had Kids Pricey” Luke looked you and Kyle over, he must be joking right? You peered over at Price who was giving Luke that eye-crinkling smile but the patronizing one that was only reserved for when you had fucked up big time.

“Hahaha no not my kids, Luke I’m not that old, workmates, both city slickers coming to spend some time in the fresh outdoors!” You could see Price edging his way back from the wall. You would be lying if you didn't think Luke was handsome, he was a slightly bigger build than Price, dark brown hair from what you could see under his beanie hat and a big beard, his eyes a pale blue. What were you doing? You were staring and Luke noticed. He gave you a cheeky wink again causing your face to blush slightly and a smirk to tug at the corner of your mouth. Price cleared his throat.

“Anyway best be off, doing the waterfall walk then heading to the hound for an early Dinner” Price placed his hand on your shoulder and ever so gently started to push you.

“Oh no worries might join you for a drink later eh? You can tell me all about the big city…” there was that smile again. He had a look of arrogance, but he wore it well you thought.

“Yeh might see you there…if not ill be round later for that mate of yours number” Price was now steering you away from the nice man, the stranger with the cheeky grin. Luke whistled his cows again still looking at you as you walked away Price firmly at your back. If Price could have his Irish Doctor, why couldn’t you have your country Farmer?

******

The walk had taken longer than expected, so Price decided that it was best to just head straight to the Pub it was a short 10min walk, you secretly thought it was so you didn't run into Luke again.

You walked into the old Tudor building it was cosy the smell of wet pine and slightly stale beer filled your nose. The door frames were warped and Price and Kyle had to duck under most of them. As the waitress guided you to your table everyone let on to John and the pair of you two asking how he was and how he’d been keeping causing you to have to stop every few meters. When you finally got seated you were greeted by yet another woman who was overly friendly with Price and gave you the cold shoulder. She was probably a pleasant-looking woman when she was younger but the years and the cigarettes hadn’t been kind to her, skinny and blonde with too much red lipstick on. She spoke to Price as if they were old lovers. Oh great another one you thought.

“Well its good to see you John, really it is, we should do lunch sometime do you still have my number?” She stroked his arm handing him a business card. Kyle gave you a look and you had to bite your lip to stop from laughing.

“Yeh Tracey was lovely seeing you too, take care” Price waved her on.

“Old flame eh boss?” Kyle was pretending to browse the menu while shooting you a grin. Price shook his head a slight smile creeping on his face.

“Yeh you could say that, but way back when we were kids” Price looked over the business card.

“I'm sure she married actually…”

*******

You had all finished your meals and were now sat out in the main room of the pub, An old fella named Tommy was singing country road on the karaoke trying to get people up on the small stage with him. Price had been asked 3 times to sing, You told Kyle you would pay good money to witness that. You had all had a few drinks by now and you were feeling a little better the vodka had numbed the images and you could look Price in the eyes not for long but it made the atmosphere less tense. Price had noticed you had relaxed he still couldn't think what had changed overnight he had rattled his brain the entire hike he hadn’t said anything had he? Had he come on too strong did you know what he was going to say last night and stopped him to save yourself and him the embarrassment of turning him down, he did think deep down he was being an old fool. You were a bright young 24 year old why on earth would you want to be getting about with a nearly 40-year-old man but he couldn’t help but hope?

He watched you sing along you and Kyle shoulder-to-shoulder arms around each other. Not only did you light up the room you lit up something in him and he wasn't ready to give up on just yet. He decided he was going to have chat with you tomorrow morning, but for tonight he would just enjoy you here with him.

Just as Price was about to get another round in, he watched as your attention turned to the door your best smile on your face. He turned to see Luke walking over to the table his eyes trained on you as if the place was empty. Price felt his scalp prickle with anger, but surely he didn't have anything to worry about, you weren’t easily flattered with a flash smile and smooth words you weren't like other women. He stood up to greet Luke with a handshake, a firm handshake maybe a bit too firm as it caused Luke to break his eye contact with you and pat him on the shoulder.

“Easy there Pricey, don't know your own strength nearly crushed my hand! How are you Kyle mate” Luke reached out his hand to shake Kyles, who still had his arm around your shoulder singing, Kyle was a lightweight.

“He’s a little bit drunk” you shouted over the current singer, now , mumbling away to UB40’s “Red red wine”

“I can see that haha and what about you, you want another one?” He flashed that cheeky smile again.

“Go on then Vodka lime soda please” You downed your current one.

“Adda girl, wanna come to the bar you can help me back with the rest?”

You nodded, you didn't need to ask Kyle what he wanted you knew his choice of drink off by heart, Price would have another Whisky. Without even looking back you followed Luke to the bar. He smelt of fresh-cut grass and aftershave, it lingered around you. Standing at the bar he placed his hand on the other side of you enclosing you against it his chest pressed to your back, he was a bold one you thought, but you didn't mind, you could see Price looking over in the mirror behind the bar, he looked pissed off, but the pang of guilt didn't last long as Luke was now in your ear trying to talk to you over the load music you felt his cheek brush against yours his beard tickled your earlobe.

“So what is your do? you don’t look like a lorry driver?” Lorry driver? Oh was this what Price told people he did?

“Ohh no I'm not, I work in logistics back at the depot” you smirked. Logistics? Not far off well it was way off but it was nice to pretend haha if only he knew.

“Ohh so your the brains of the operation nice” His face a few inches from yours, you the brains of the operation? Price would be holding his sides laughing if he had heard that. The barmaid came over to take your order, she obviously had a thing for Luke as she was giving you the dirtiest look imaginable. But you couldn't blame her he was handsome. Your drinks came and you both made your back to the table. Kyle was now up on stage singing Neil Diamond's “Sweet Caroline” you gave him a wolf whistle.

“GO ON KYLE!!” Luke shouted above the crowd as they all joined in for the chorus. Price had a faint smile on his face but as he looked over at you it soon faded. Luke had made himself comfortable with you too comfortable for Price’s liking. As you handed him his whisky he tried to make eye contact with you and give you a ‘want me to get rid of him’ look, but as soon as he took his glass you turned your attention back to Luke and whatever he was saying that was making you giggle. His arm around the back of our chair leaning in that little bit too close, Price could feel his jaw clenching and turned his focus on Kyle who now had half the pub up singing with him. Even over the commotion, he could still hear you and Luke laughing, he could snap his neck he thought, it would be easy he’d done it before.

“So is there a Mr Tank” Luke cocked his eyebrow at you, you squinted your eyes at him smiling.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing, but no there isn’t, is there a Mrs. Highland cow?” You took a large swig of your drink nearly downing it. His eyes lit up.

“No there isn’t a Mrs highland cow, there was but we broke up about a year ago, she wanted to go live in the city and I wanted to stay here, thought I was going to marry her as well but things happen yah know” he looked down into his pint almost sad. You felt a slight pang in your heart for him. Loving something but having to let it go.

“The city isn’t all it's cracked up to be, not spent much time down here but I like it…could see myself living down here…” you meant it, you really liked the quiet and in your line of work you needed that escape. Price felt that telltale flutter in his chest at your words, you liked it down here and he was happy and willing to give you a home he thought.

“Well you’ve always got a room at mine whenever you want” Price gave your thigh a squeeze followed by a wink.

“I Don’t think Dr. O'Brien would appreciate us having sleepovers do you John?” You couldn't hide the snarl as the words left your mouth. Price’s face was a mixture of confusion and anger where had that come from?

Kyle and his backing singers were now onto their 3rd song of the night Kc & the sunshine band ‘Give it up’. Luke didn't have a clue what was going but could feel the tension like static in the air before a storm, so before the thunder rolled in he intervened.

“Hey come keep me company while I have a smoke…I’m dying to know more about the logistics of HGV driving” He tugged on your arm. You shot Price a look as you stood up, Luke draped his arm around you steering you out the back. Your blood was rushing through your body.

You weren't a little toy he could keep on a shelf to play with when he felt like it.

You were brought back round by the cold dusk air biting at your cheeks, you had forgot to bring your jacket out with you, but as if he had read your mind Luke opened his coat offering you shelter. He gave you a smirk at he lit his cigarette up with his other hand.

“Either get in here with me or you go back into whatever the fuck that was and get your coat? Your choice”

You didn't fancy heading back in so thought fuck it, and tried to wrap your arms around him he was broad and your hands couldn't quite reach so you opted for one clinging to the back of his jumper and the other resting on his chest and as you tucked yourself in he closed his coat over you both your face just popping out you could feel the sting of tears but blinked them away and instead basked in the calm warmth Luke was providing.

After a few moments Luke looked down at you.

“You ok in there? Warm enough?”

You nodded, this guy was a stranger not a few hours ago and now you were bundled up in his coat pressed against him, but you didn't care. Luke cleared his throat.

“It's not my place, but what’s the deal with you and Price? You guys have history or something?” He took another drag of his cigarette. History you and Price? Haha where could you even start? You had known him since you were 16, had been hand selected by him, fought side by side, been in dire situations and come out somewhat intact, you had taken a bullet for him he had kept your head above water. He reminded you that what you did mattered “We get dirty and the world stays clean” he had told you and Kyle that an you had both believed him. What you and Price were couldn’t be confined to just one sentence, so you didn't try.

“You could say that, but that's all it is history” you peered up at Luke his grey-blue eyes side-eyeing you.

“What?” You felt the slight flutter of butterflies. Luke didn't answer, instead he flicked his cigarette out and cupped your face pulling you up into a deep kiss, you opened your mouth allowing his ashtray-tasting tongue to explore your mouth. You could feel his heart beating fast under your hand as he tightened his other arm around you pulling you in closer. With one movement he had you trapped between the wall and his body trailing kisses down your neck. He smelt of cigarette smoke, beer and cut grass, it was different to Price’s cigars, whisky and smoked cedar but you didn't mind that.

“Tell me to stop…” he whispered softly kissing your jaw. You didn't want him to so you stayed silent, you looped your hands around his neck and jumped wrapping your legs around his waist, his hands automatically grabbing your arse. You continued your kiss, you could feel him getting hard through his jeans. Just as you both took a moment to catch your breath you heard the crunch of footsteps on the gravel path. It was probably one of the regulars coming out for a smoke. Luke put you down but cloaked you with his coat. Your warm breath mingled together in a cloud in the cold air. Luke gave you a cheeky smile his thumb stroking your cheek. He looked to see if the stranger had wandered back round to the front of the pub so you could continue, but his smile dropped. You heard the familiar gravelly voice of Your Captain.

“We’re heading back now Tank, Kyles had one too many” Your heart sank as he spoke you could hear the anger in his voice.

“Ok…I’ll be right behind you” your voice a low mumble. He must of heard as you could hear his footsteps walking away and back round to where he must of left Kyle. You dared to peek over Lukes coat seeing Price helping Kyle walk up the road.

“Where’s Tank, can’t leave her here Boss we come as a 3 pack!” Kyle was now clearly in distress trying to turn back around to find you, it tugged at your heart, but your were frozen to the spot.

“She’s alright lad, she's alright she’ll find her way back home” Price was rubbing kyles shoulder calming him down, pulling him back in the right direction. Luke looked down at you, his hand now on the back of your neck he pulled you into him for a hug and you let it happen, his slowing heart rate soothing you, you felt the prickle of tears forming and did you best to keep them at bay but one escaped causing you to sniffle.

“Let’s go have another drink eh? Getting cold out here” He kissed your cheek and lead you back inside.

********

You walked with Luke back home, he did after all live next door to Price. Luke made you laugh even though you didn't feel like it, it was nice.

“So do you run the farm by yourself?” You walked tucked into him you hand finding a loop on his coat to cling to.

“No I run it with my 4 brothers, so always someone to cover for me if I want to take some time off” He cocked his eyebrow at you, the hint didn't go unnoticed.

“Thought you didn't like the city?” You rolled your eyes dramatically.

“Never said I didn't like it, and besides think I have a reason to visit it more now” he pulled you in closer to him. You didn't mind the idea. Maybe this made more sense?

“An what reason would that be Luke?” You stopped just round the corner from the houses. Looking up at him a little smirk on your face. He answered you with a firm but gentle kiss.

“Good reason” you mumbled against his lips. You continued walking back to the houses, you glanced at Price’s house only the porch light was lit, the feeling of dread was slowly returning. Maybe he had gone to bed. Not that you owed him an explanation just as he didn't owe you one. You looked back at Luke he gave you that cheeky grin.

Would he still like you if he knew what you really did, would he still want to kiss you knowing what you had done. What about the scars that littered your body how would you explain them, you didn't have to with Price he understood he had ones to match yours. Would Luke understand? Would he kiss them and tell you he still thought you were beautiful? What about when you woke howling like a wounded animal in the night like you sometimes did, Price knew to handle you with care. Would Luke? When your bad temper flared would he know your bark was worse than you bite? Price knew it was. Stop it. Luke wasn't him but he was nice and you hoped he would understand all your shortcomings.

“Can I tempt you back to mine for a nightcap?” He looped his arms around your waist pulling you to him leaning against the wall like two teenagers. You thought about it, but didn't want to give him the wrong idea.

“Not tonight, but…” Luke stopped you.

“It’s ok I understand but can I at least get your number? Planning a trip to the city soon and need a tour guide” He flashed his perfect white teeth at you as he handed you his phone to put your number in. You did and gave him your direct line.

He lifted you chin up to face him, kissing you once again. He walked you to the door then broke away to return to his.

“Good night, city girl”

“Good night Luke”

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

You walked into the kitchen you needed a drink of water the butterflies had turned to lead weights inside your stomach.

“Have fun did we, he's a nice lad Luke?” Price’s voice made you jump, he was stood by the back door only the counter spotlights were on.

“I did actually,hows Kyle?” You tried your best to keep your voice level, even though your stomach was a pit of lava churning away.

“Oh he's fine nothing a good kip won't sort out, he's made a few friends tonight, but he's not the only one is he?”

“What's that supposed to mean John?”

“Nothing, how's that going to work out anyway? You going to tell him what you really do? Or are you just going to let him think you work in logistics?”

“I don't know JOHN! how does the Irish Doctor feel about what you do? Helen is that her name? Did you talk about it when she was here last? Bit of war criminal pillow talk? Bet she would love to hear about some of the things I’ve witnessed you do!” you were shouting now the anger crawling to the surface. Price was silent for a moment, his mouth upturned his brow furrowed.

“What are you on about? You mentioned her earlier in the pub what has she got to do with any of this Tank?”

“Really? You gonna continue to play dumb? You fucking dickhead!”

Price had made his way over to you in two strides, he was right in your face now.

“What are you on about!” The anger in his voice rattle your bones. But you stood your ground.

“I found her knickers John, under your fucking bed the other night! You said she came when the house wasn't even finished! It looks fucking finished to me! You had the cheek to lie to my face in this very kitchen and here, you stood here saying you had something to get off your chest, well get it off your fucking chest now JOHN!” You were raging. His heart plummeted. It all made sense now, he didn't want you to find out like that.

“…it was a one-time thing she was here, we were drunk…it didn't mean anything…like I said she talks too much…” He placed his hand on your shoulder. You shrugged it off. He could see the hurt in your eyes your lip starting to quiver.

“You know what it doesn’t matter you don't owe me an explanation…you know what never mind how Me and Luke would work, or you an Helen…how would this even work? Me and you? Tell me John…”

He looked you dead in the eye, he was starting to think he didn't know either, maybe he had been fooling himself. He knew what he had to do.

“You know what…It wouldn’t work, would it…” he hung his head, he couldn't meet your eyes. He felt hopeless. You were better off with someone else. Deep down you wanted him to tell you it would work, that you could make it work, but his expression had changed, you didn’t recognise him. No you did he wasnt John anymore he was Captain Price, your Captain all sense of familiarity gone just like that…

“I'm sorry if I’ve acted in anyway inappropriately this weekend, but just so we are clear our relationship will be strictly professional from now on” He glanced out the window, he was fighting to keep his heart from shattering. He wished he hadn’t looked at you when he did the light was draining from you like a dying star collapsing in on itself, he had caused that.

If only there was another way to do this, it felt like murder to put you through this, He had promised to never hurt you, but here he was slowly choking out the fire you had both started. It was better this way…not for him but for you he had to believe that or else he would cling to the hope and drag you down with him. Really he wanted you to kick and scream call him stupid and that it would work that you could make it work, but he knew you needed better, no you deserved better.

Inside you were screaming ‘Don’t do this to me please John” but all you could muster was

“Ok I understand, I'll get the train back in the morning. Tell Kyle I said goodbye…”

“You don't have to get the train back, I'll drive you…”

“No it's ok, I'm going to head to bed…Night John…sweet dreams”

“Night kid…sweet dreams..”

As you walked up the stairs and out of earshot, Price allowed himself to crumble slamming his fist onto the countertop.

Had he just made the biggest mistake, he wouldn't know as by the morning you were gone just like you said leaving a note under the Little tank in your room that read:

“Thanks again for a nice weekend John, yours always, Tank”

263 notes · View notes

duskamethyst · 4 years ago

Text

mistakes.

a/n: totally for self indulgence... don’t know how is this gonna do though since i’m not sure if a lot of people has caught up with the manga but i’m pretty sure the fandom has seen him at least once and instantly thirst for him. so, idk what colour his eyes are (i can see blue but fanwiki says green so i stuck with that and in between). this comes with a package of me pointing out how big and buff he is and idc if you’ll get annoyed over it.

word count: 6.1k

genre: AU, nsfw, smut, angst if you squint

warnings: DARK – NONCON, coercion, corruption kink, daddy kink, size kink, choking, mind break, breeding, face fucking, slight dacryphilia, spitting, age gap, degradation, virgin reader, dilf toji manhandling reader

pairing: toji x f!reader

languages available: vietnamese.

summary: you want to surprise your bestie, megumi upon his arrival home from college but things take a terrible turn.

one.

heavy rain starts pouring as soon as you’ve reached the front doorstep of the fushiguro’s household. it was a dumb idea to not bring an umbrella with you despite the sky already starting to get dark when you left home earlier, but you were willing to push your luck and started sprinting once you felt prickles of droplets landing on your skin. with a stroke of luck, you managed to escape the heavy downpour from soaking your clothes.

drawing a deep and relieved sigh, you take a moment to regain control over your breathing before knocking the big front door. aware of the aftermath of the run, you fix your hair with your hands as you wait for megumi to come and greet you.

college made you and the male to part ways until phones were the only thing that kept you both up to date with each other’s lives. ironically enough, that’s the thing you forgot to bring when you left home in a rush and excitement to surprise your dear friend since he’s coming home today. you can vividly remember the last text you read; he was at the train station and you had to estimate the time of his arrival and the time he would be at home instead of asking him.

however, you’re caught slightly off guard when a different man opens the door for you instead. nonetheless, your lips curl to a sweet smile and there’s a brief of awkward silence before he speaks. you know him, but he doesn’t seem to remember you at all.

“you’re..?” with a tilt of his head, he looks down at you with a curious brow.

“it’s me, mr. fushiguro!” you offer your name, scrutinizing the expression on his face as his forehead crinkles while he jogs through his memories. then he glances at you and away in thought and back at you again with wide eyes when he finally recalls.

“oh, it’s you!” he ruffles your hair, a bit too enthusiastic in spite of his usual character that you were always familiar with. “i haven’t seen you in a while.”

you let out a little laugh, “yeah. i think i was fourteen the last time i saw you, mr. fushiguro. but it’s nice to see you again.”

“ah, yes. i had to go out of town and overseas for business a lot.” toji explains, rubbing the back of his neck, slightly bashful that he didn’t recognize the girl– no, woman before him even when you both have met plenty of times back when you often came to play with his son since you both were still little.

but can anyone blame him? time works wonders and now the little girl he used to know has grown to be much more mature and gorgeous and so... demure.

“yeah, megumi told me. speaking of him, is he home?” you finally inquire, bringing up the reason why you’re here in the first place.

two.

“why don’t you come in first? it’s cold outside.” he says before immediately turning around without answering your question. you close the door behind you and follow him closely, also somewhat intimidated when you realize how tall and huge he is– the tight fitting shirt stretches over his wide back and accentuating his physique even more. his arms are toned and popping with veins, not the way you used to remember at least, but you’ve never cared to notice. you’re not certain of his age either, but you’re pretty sure you’d be surprised if you find out.

“do you want coffee or tea?” toji suddenly breaks the silence as you nervously stand in the middle of the room to take a glimpse around the kitchen like it’s your first time being there, completely heedless over his gaze lingering up and down your curves, observing the figure of a girl who just freshly went through her womanhood and your lascivious beauty before he quickly turns around to grab two mugs from the cabinet.

“anything is fine.” you politely reply, fear of sounding somewhat demanding if you choose your preference despite being offered with choices.

“come on, you’re giving a man a hard time.” he jokes. “and sit down.”

he’s trying to extend his invitation though intentionally sounding assertive, but when he sees that you are quick to comply and scramble to your seat, he finds it to be... stimulating. at least he knows that you’re docile and he wonders if he could put it to the test. well, doesn’t matter. he will.

“coffee is good.” you smile, interrupting his train of thoughts and he pours the coffee from the pot before walking over to hand you your mug.

“unfortunately,” he sits down on the chair next to you. “megumi isn’t home right now.” toji puts his lips between the warm mug and softly blows before sipping his coffee. “he wanted to take a short trip to the store but i think he’s going to be stuck there for a while.” he looks out the window to only see pitch black staring back at him along with roaring thunder from the skies.

“oh.” you mutter, taking a careful sip of the hot brew. a little disappointed that you couldn’t see megumi yet, but his dad is right– it’s nearly a disaster outside but you find no point hanging around any longer either.

“is it too bitter? you don’t like it?” his voice laces with concern when he notices your face involuntarily scrunches up at the bitter taste.

you quickly shake your head, “no, no. it’s fine!” you reassure, afraid that he’ll take offense from the coffee he personally made. “besides, if megumi isn’t here, i–”

three.

“oh, it’s fine if you wait here for him.” he cuts you off. “unfortunately, we don’t have an extra umbrella.” the corners of his lips tug into a comforting smile and you are quick to relax into it.

you’ve always found toji to be quite frightening when you were young. he seemed like someone who never smiled, always had a sombre and intense vibe to him that no child would be too fond of. there was no exchange of words between you two, except for your constant brief hello and a smile that you did out of courtesy whenever you bump into him inside his house, even though he never replied anything back. not even a crack on the lips to return the smile.

but today is different. probably because he finds it easier for him to talk to an adult than a child and you’re relieved that you’re able to humor him in some way.

“so, are you and megumi a thing?” he abruptly asks and glances at you as he sips his coffee.

“no, we’re not!” you titter, waving a hand in dismissal as you bring up the mug to hide your face from embarrassment.

“oh?” a glint of amusement and surprise shines in his green eyes. “are you sure?”

you blink at the question as heat warms your cheeks from the thought of dating your best friend. “yes, megumi and i are just friends. really.”

“why? because you have a boyfriend?” toji pries, uncaring if he sounds intrusive to you and you only assume that he’s trying to strike up a conversation in some old fashioned way.

you just shake your head and laugh, “it’s not that, either.”

“hmm,” he props his elbow on the table leisurely, head resting on his fist as he looks at you intently, as if in search of something. “you’re pretty hard to figure out.”

“what do you mean? i don’t think so.” you smile, bringing up the mug to cover your face again so you can shy away from his intense gaze yet he thinks that it’s endearing and he finds himself grinning unwillingly.

toji notices how you always try to look away when you get so shy over some simple questions. you’re just oozing with purity and innocence of a maiden and something dark and twisted inside him is craving to violate every part of it.

“for a start, i can’t figure out why you don’t have one.” he says, tapping his fingertips on the table as his mind is running with sinful thoughts.

“hmm, maybe because i haven’t found anyone interesting yet.” you finally lock your eyes with his as you answer, not wanting to come off as rude if you keep on talking without looking directly at the man.

“isn’t my son good for you?” he couldn’t care less to be honest; he only plans to test the waters and is even more aroused to learn that you’ve never been touched by a man before and he feels like a wolf that’s just ready to pounce on a lost, little lamb.

“oh, no, no!” why do you have to get so bashful? he’ll fuck you on this table if you don’t stop. “we just don’t see each other that way.”

he’s so lost in his thoughts and carnal desires that whatever you’re babbling seems to go in one ear and out the other.

“then, what do you think of me?” he asks nonchalantly with a smirk plastered across his face.

you blink at him once, twice. “uhh, what?” is he suddenly getting self-conscious?

“you heard me. what do you think of me?” yet he doesn’t seem like it either.

“umm,” you ponder for a moment as you think of every adjective you can find in your head that wouldn’t come out offensive if you’re going to be honest with him. why would he even ask you such a thing anyways? and why would it matter to him? there’s nothing nice about him that you could exactly pinpoint from the past except for ‘scary’, ‘serious’ and some other things revolving around those.

“i thought that you were kinda... scary?” you blurt unsurely, mentally slapping yourself for even daring to say such a thing to him. unless it’s a vibe that he was going for, then you’d be relieved.

it isn’t exactly what toji wants to hear but he laughs heartily, “really?” a shiver runs down your spine when he looks at you again, his eyes glimmering with daunt. “but are you still scared of me?”

“uh, no.” you laugh. “you’re actually really nice, mr. fushiguro.”

“oh, that makes me feel better.” another grin etches on his scarred lips as he draws his gaze to your hands that are tensing and fiddling with your sleeves and your leg is bouncing; a perfect depiction of a trembling lamb cornered in his den– and he’s fucking starving.

has he got you on edge? are you nervous? good. “but i think you should.”

a lump catches in your throat and your heart drops, “i- what?”

the chair emits a screeching sound and it stumbles backwards as toji abruptly stands up from his seat. sheer panic causes you to rise on your feet too, and your eyes dart to the chair, and the male, back and forth as your mind tries to get a grasp on the situation.

“mr. fushiguro..?” you whisper meekly, taking a step away and around the table as you notice him taking a careful yet threatening inch closer.

“no, no. i’m not gonna hurt you.” toji (barely) reassures you as he continues creeping on his feet. but the sinister smile on his lips takes out every last bit of faith you had in him and the loud voice in your head keeps telling you to run for the door and never look back– fuck the rain.

as if he can read through your thoughts, he warns. “but i will, if you run.”

the smile on toji’s face turns smug when he sees you freeze in place upon his threat. being trapped under the unpleasant situation triggers your fight or flight responses and rapid heartbeat drums in your ears as you stand in trance and trepidation.

“that’s a good girl.” he coos, taking another step forward before you decide to throw a mug at him and dash towards the door as fast as you can. you assume that toji has pushed the table to the floor when you hear a loud thud, followed by his hasty footsteps as he catches up quickly behind you.

the door that is finally within arm’s reach suddenly changes into a mirage when a strong pair of arms grabs you by the waist and your body floats as it lifts onto his shoulder. the huge contrast between the size of your body and his should let you know; no matter how much you try to resist, he will never budge. yet, your arms and legs still flail around in an attempt to punch and kick him and you’re screaming for him to let you down and just hope that anyone is able to hear your cries in spite of the thunderstorm.

well, so much for luck.

“ah, ah. you don’t wanna do that.” there’s a mocking and amusing tone in his voice as he advises you. “you should save that energy later. juuust in a bit.”

“mr. fushiguro– stop–!” you sob, watching your only escape slowly disappears out of sight when he turns to a corner and into a dark room. your body bounces onto a mattress before toji’s huge, ripped figure swiftly looms above yours and ties your hands together with a belt and onto the headboard. at this point, the illuminating lights through the windows are the only thing that aids your vision and you have to rely more on your senses.

“shh,” he shushes you with a finger against your trembling lips. “the neighbors will hear. and if they do, i want it to be because you’re getting fucked so good. so be a good little girl for daddy, okay?”

regardless of being terrified, you find yourself cringing over the nickname he refers to himself. hopefully, he won’t ask you to call him that either. “mr. fushiguro– i– please don’t do this. i- i won’t tell anyone.”

toji tsks, taking his sweet time to admire your smaller body underneath his– the exposed, soft skin on your neck waiting to be bruised, chest heaving as your breath comes deep and short, and legs pressing together to secure your modesty; though will prove to be futile later.

“i know you won’t.” his thumb grazes against your lips, mesmerized by its plushness as he imagines it wrapped prettily around his throbbing cock. “are you a virgin?”

you only nod your head, eyes wavering as you look at his darker ones before catching it shine with interest.

“never had anything inside here?” he asks again, pressing your cunt against the fabric of your pants with his fingers. the dark room makes it hard to see, but your cheeks are turning red from humiliation and you look away before shaking your head no.

“are you sure?” toji’s thumb presses down on your clit and causes your body to shudder apprehensively.

“o-only my finger.” you audibly whisper through the white noise outside.

oh, how exhilarating. guess the innocent looking ones can be lewd too. don’t you know that a cock would make you feel better? a big cock like his is definitely what you need. just a finger wouldn’t be enough to satisfy you! poor little thing.

“then i got to teach you a few things, right? it’ll come handy later. boys love girls with experiences.” he promptly strips you off from your pants before carelessly throws it to the ground and kneels between your legs to keep you wide and open for him.

“you like to be touched here?” his finger reaches down to ghost over your clothed clit, observing you with lust filled eyes while you turn away from his gaze and remain unresponsive. “daddy is a very impatient person so i suggest you answer me.”

toji pinches your clit, and your body squirms with an elicited yelp. you can only guess (and hope) that he wasn’t referring to him touching you there but you answer anyway, “y-yes.”

he hums in satisfaction, moving down until his head stops between your thighs and in front of your sex. toji grabs your thigh and spreads them apart before flattening his warm tongue against your clothed bud, causing a shiver to run down your spine and it quickly draws your attention to him.

your face heats up in embarrassment when you see toji’s head dipped in front of your pussy, but he’s only calm and teasing as his jade eyes stare up to lock with yours to look for a reaction.

“you’ve never felt a tongue over here either, hm?” he sneers, rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb and you mentally curse yourself for feeling slightly aroused over his ministrations.

“just let me go, please.” you try to close your legs, but to no avail when his rough hands push them away.

“you know, if you keep asking for ridiculous things,” toji tuts and grasps your supple thighs hard, nails digging painfully on your skin. “i might have to get rough on you. but you’re a smart girl and you wouldn’t like that, right?”

“n-no.” you choke and fidget.

“good. because i only want you to feel good.” he offers a gentle smile and kisses the dented mark on your thigh. “so, let’s start over. you haven’t answered me.”

you nibble your lip hesitantly and look anywhere but him, “no.”

“see? all the more reason for me to show you what you’ve been missing out.” he chuckles, tugging your underwear to the side impatiently.

“fuck. such a pretty pussy.” he growls at the sight of your bare cunt. there isn’t a lot of slick yet, but it’s fine, he’ll make you get there. that’s the point of this whole ordeal, right?

your body quivers naturally once you feel the foreign sensation; wet, warm muscle prodding your puffy folds up to your clit and circling on it with the tip of his tongue teasingly as he observes you from below.

your eyes are screwed shut and your lips are caught between your teeth as you try to restrict your whines from the undeniable pleasure rushing in your veins and he doesn’t stop– your pathetic attempt to deny him and your sentiments only drives him to push you over the edge even more.

with a harsh suck on your clit, he manages to get you to squeal and you can feel him smirking underneath you. toji flattens his tongue and laps off your juices again before he takes you by surprise when he suddenly slides a finger inside your tight, wet cunt.

“shh. it’ll feel good, baby girl.” he comforts when he hears you whimper at the pain inflicted and true enough, it soon begins to feel good. you’ve fingered yourself plenty of times before, but it feels different when he does it for you– his finger is thick and long that it reaches deeper than you’ve ever been able to.

toji notices you start to become quiet so he slides in another digit, eliciting yet another sob from you. the warm and moist cunny makes his cock twitch and he finds himself getting eager. your back arches from the bed when toji curls his fingers to stroke the bumpy tissues of your g-spot with every drag.

“feels good, yeah?” he grins arrogantly as your legs tremble under his hold. your breathing has turned erratic and your toes are curling as your mouth gapes in pitiful, broken cries that are just music to his ears.

“answer me, sweetheart.” he presses down a thumb on your neglected clit, reminding you that he is not keen on being ignored and disputed.

“y-yes.” you finally choke through pants and shame. though the answer comes out in hesitance, your body is more honest– pussy sopping and eliciting obscene squelches and it’s enough to satisfy him for now.

your head thrashes side to side as you feel yourself about to tip over but you still refuse to beg toji for a release.

“hah– fuck!” you whimper loudly when toji oh-so-generously sucks your clit again, fingers pumping faster inside your cunt, making your body feel even more tense with overbearing stimulation before finally pushing you over the edge and you break into a silent scream.

toji laps off your slick before he pulls out his finger into his mouth and licks them clean.

“that’s a good girl. why don’t you taste yourself?” he climbs on top of you while you gasp for air from the intense orgasm and he easily pulls you into a fervour, sloppy kiss. you can feel the wet slick on his chin and you can taste yourself at the same time as he intertwines his tongue with yours.

four.

out of spite and vexation, you found courage to bite his tongue hard and toji instantly pushes himself from you, his dark eyes express astonishment and agitation.

“fucking bitch.” he curses as his eyes narrow at you displeasingly before he takes off his pants and briefs to release his cock from its confinements. his cock is throbbing and thick, and you can almost see a trickle of precum on its head. you crumple at the sight as regret and anxiety washes over you.

“don’t worry, it’ll fit.” he says cockily upon the worrisome look on your face. “but since you like it rough, i’m sure you want to choke on it first.”

“no– i’m sorry!” you shake your head but toji only lets out a scornful laugh as he disregards your pleas and props himself on the knees and over your neck.

toji slaps the tip of his cock on your lips, gesturing you to open your mouth but you purse them into a flat, thin line and refuse to obey.

“open up. it’s a part of your lesson after all.” he snaps before squeezing your cheeks together. “it’ll get worse if you don’t listen to me.”

“d-don’t wa-ant to– flea-shh.” you whimper and toji emits a long, deep sigh as he releases his grip.

“i don’t like repeating myself.” his voice is laced with malice and chills crawls up your spine as his eyes look down at you demeaningly before you slowly open your mouth trepidatiously and wait for his next order.

“no teeth. i think you’d know that much.” he patronizes before sliding his cock inside your mouth and he hisses as the warmth engulfs his throbbing cock. “that’s it. now, suck.”

and you have no choice but to obey submissively. you slightly lift your head and struggle to take his length as much as you can before running your tongue around to feel each prominent vein.

“i said suck, whore.” he commands through gritted teeth. you hollow your cheeks, compressing his fat cock tight between them as you bop your head up and down.

“fuuuck, just like that.” toji groans as his hand reaches the top of your head and caresses you softly. you start to pick up the pace, slobbering his dick with so much saliva that it begins to seep from the corners of your mouth and it’s so wet and obscene– just the way he likes it.

“it almost makes me think that this isn’t your first time.” his head falls back and hips begin to jerk until the tip hits the back of your throat, forcing you to take more than you could. you choke as tears start to well up in your eyes and the bedhead shakes when you try to tug your wrists.

“what’s wrong? can’t take my fat cock?” he scoffs arrogantly. “you gotta work on your gag reflex, sweetheart.”

the muffles from your throat vibrate against his dick and toji groans in pleasure that he subconsciously rocks his hips, slapping your chin with his balls. your vision has become blurry and breathing becomes harder as you let him abuse your throat and your jaws ache before he abruptly pulls out and you can finally gasp for precious air.

“look at you,” his cock twitches with excitement when he sees the tears rolling down your cheeks from your doe eyes and he wipes them away with his thumb, making you flinch slightly, “are you sorry for making daddy mad?”

toji always tries to articulate each word with appease. it’s never soothing per se when you can sense the threat entwining in his voice and it’s fucking you psychologically.

and it deems to be successful when you’re already trembling in fear underneath him.

you’re uncertain whether he prefers you to speak or not, but your throat is sore so you meekly nod your head in response. it’s better than nothing, to be honest.

“good. open your mouth.”

your mouth is already parted for air but you assume that he wants to put his cock in again. submissively, yet dreadfully, you open your mouth wider and await for him to shove his cock back in but you’re surprised when toji spits in your mouth instead.

it’s warm and disgusting; you’re just left gaping and repelled, and you want to spit it out but toji squeezes your cheeks together.

“swallow.” he orders. you quickly brace yourself and close your eyes before cringing as you gulp down the mix of saliva in your mouth and toji releases his grip once he’s certain that you’ve ingested.

“i could’ve made you swallow my cum but i’d feel bad,” he chuckles sardonically. “what do you have to say?”

“t-thank you.” you whisper vaguely and he accustoms his face to a simper.

“good girl.” toji smashes his lips onto yours, yet his eyes are locked with yours ominously for a brief second– a telltale that he expects you not to pull up another stunt before they close as he deepens the kiss.

obviously, nothing would benefit you whether you comply or defy, not until you’ve catered for his insatiable lechery. but you’ve learned your lesson and although you’re compelled, you finally relent as every ounce of resistance begins to drift from you.

toji breaks the kiss and shifts lower, peppering greedy kisses on your neck before he catches the soft, chaste skin between his teeth to suck and form purplish bruising marks. he lifts up your shirt over your head and hastily unclasps your bra, causing you to shudder once the cold air hits your exposed breasts.

large, calloused hands press your mounds before his mouth latches on one perky tit, while the other is tweaked with his fingers. experienced tongue draws circles and sucks punishingly, alternating with the other nipple. the headboard rattles as you keen over the stimulation and your eyes open in dismay when you feel something hard prodding your clit.

he moves lower and spits on your cunt before propping on his knees to take off his tight shirt– through subdued glow, you can make out the outline of his toned abs and broad chest as his large build towers menacingly in front of you; even when he’s not standing on his feet.

“listen. daddy is going to release the binds, but do you promise to be good?” he asks, smearing the saliva with his cockhead and against your slit.

“yes. i- i promise.” you murmur appallingly; as if you have a choice in the matter.

toji leans over to unrestrain you then he observes you, expecting you to put up a fight but instead, you just remain still underneath him.

he grins in satisfaction, getting off to the fact that you’ve fallen into submission before he shifts back into his prior position and bends your knees up to line his cock with your hole. a feeling of triumph stirs inside him when he’s reminded that he’s the ‘chosen’ one to defile your innocence.

“stop! it hurts–!” you wail and your hands clench the sheets when you feel toji’s thick cock stretching your virgin cunt slowly, but he ignores you, groaning at the warmth that engulfs him and the tight walls that clenches him as he selfishly pushes through.

it burns. so bad. your chest heaves rapidly and you screw your eyes shut as your face twists to express pain and uncomfort. “please, please–! i can’t–”

“yes, you can.” his tone is indifferent as he holds you down since your body keeps on wincing until he finally fills you to the brim and he can see a bulge poking on your tummy.

“fuck. haven’t been inside a virgin cunt for a while.” he mutters under his breath. “now, i know it hurts but i promise you’ll enjoy it. it’s just too bad that you get to have a big cock as your first.” he snickers nonchalantly and leans down closer to your face, making you jolt when you feel it inching deeper.

“if it makes you feel better– you’re fucking tight. just the way daddy likes it.” toji whispers in your ear but you can only freeze in fear and agony.

toji hovers above you, his hands firmly grip the headboard in front of him and he begins to move his hips; thrusting in and out of your pussy.

your fists clench the sheets harder as a loud cry rips from your throat, “no! it hurts! please!”

but toji doesn’t seem to mind, his cyan orbs stare down at you coldly yet in focus as he relishes over the plush walls clamping down on his cock.

“stop! stop– i- i don’t want–!” you continuously wail as you writhe in anguish before he suddenly stops pounding and he wraps his hand around your neck instead, instantly drawing your attention to him as he applies pressure in his hold.

“if you don’t stop whining like a bitch in heat, i will fucking breed you like one.” he warns through gritted teeth, clearly agitated over your act of defiance.

“you want this. you’re going to love this.” his words are sick endeavours to coerce you into another round of complete submission.

but what else can you do? toji’s hand is so large that his middle finger and thumb almost reach each other as it clasps around your frail neck and you know he can easily crush your windpipes if he wants to.

“say it. you. want. this.” he seethes.

“i. want. this.” you barely croak each word and they’re slowly influencing your cloudy mind. as soon as he releases you, you soothe the pain around your throat with your hand as you gasp for air.

“fuck. don’t think i didn’t feel you clenching around my cock just now.” he sneers and situates himself again before ruthlessly and steadily continuing where he left off.

you only close your eyes and bite your lips hard to stop whimpering as you mentally comfort yourself and dissolve every inch of your sanity; i’m going to enjoy it, it’s going to feel good soon, i want this, i want this.

soon enough, toji notices that your muscles have relaxed– suggesting that you’ve finally caved in as pleasure overtakes you so he fucks you deeper and faster before he falls on his elbows and you can feel his bangs tickling your face.

“that’s it, baby. you make daddy feel so fucking good.” he praises between grunts. you can feel the veins on his cock dragging against your walls and he’s right, it feels so good and your lips open in breathless pants.

you find your arms to loosely wrap around his neck and your legs around his waist as if clinging onto him for dear life as toji ruts into your cunny like a feral beast.

“you like it, yeah? this is what you want, isn’t it?”

through hazy mind, you can only manage to whimper an audible ‘yes’ as you feel an odd, yet almost familiar knot twisting in your lower stomach begging to snap and your nails dig into the skin of his broad back upon the intense sensation shooting through your body.

a low, deep guttural sound leaves his throat when he feels your nails sinking and scratching his back– it prompts him to quicken his pace and you can feel the tip of his cock kissing your cervix over and over, causing your back to arch simultaneously.

“i’m– i’m gonna–!” you keen as your body trembles in anticipation and your sopping cunt is clenching on his throbbing cock like a vice.

“fuck yeah. cum on daddy’s cock.” toji urges and nips on the sensitive skin of your neck to tip you over the edge and your pupils blow wide as you break into a scream. despite being your second orgasm for the night, an overwhelming euphoria washes over you for the first time of your life; is this what it feels like? you don’t know, you’ve never had one (at least not from a cock) and your pussy is just fluttering, pulsing and creaming around his cock.

“hah– fuck. good girl.”

toji remains to snap his hips, fucking you through your high as you’re left in daze from your orgasm. toji can feel his balls tensing and his thrusts are turning sporadic as he inches closer to his climax. your whines and nonsense babbles are drowned by the feeling of pleasure that’s enveloping him and he doesn’t even have the resolution to listen to you gibbering when your cunny is just milking him, sucking him in like it doesn’t want to let go and he just wants to give what your greedy pussy asks for; to fill it up with his thick load until it’s full and leaking out of you.

and daddy knows best, after all.

“shit– i won’t be able to hold it any longer. say you want daddy’s cum.” he grunts.

you’ve partly snapped out of your daze when you hear his voice again, and though you can’t see his face that’s already buried next to your head, you’re petrified and it’s making you feel dizzy and suffocated.

“i– n-no. please not–” you sob through your raw throat.

but toji doesn’t listen and you don’t know if you’re relieved or not because if he does, you know that it’ll tick him off and it’s going to do you more harm than good– but you’re scared and it hurts, that you unwillingly start to snivel again.

“shut up. you’re gonna take it like a good cumslut.” he shoves two long fingers in your mouth, causing you to choke on them.

“daddy’s gonna cum in this pretty pussy and you’re gonna fucking take it.”

toji’s grunts ring in your ears and you’re able to feel his cock twitching inside you before he finally releases hot ropes of cum– filling up and defiling your womb.

“y-you came inside..” you mumble once he takes out his fingers as you’re left entirely devastated and stupefied.

“fucking did.” he pants, lifting his body up from you and pulls out his cock to shove back the dribbling cum that’s leaking from your abused cunny with his finger. you would wince but your mind is already numb and your body is sore that you can do nothing but burn holes through the ceiling above.

“don’t look so sad.” the room resonates with his chuckles and he gets off the bed to put back on his pants. toji walks over to the nightstand where a pack of cigarettes await him and he puts one between his lips and you can hear the flicking sounds of a lighter as he tries to burn the tip.

“i can promise you that other guys wouldn’t be rough as me but one thing’s for sure,” he inhales the tobacco and exhales in a gratifying manner, “that will stay as the best fuck of your life.”

fat tears stream down your cheeks and you curl on your side, protecting your now-ruined-body as you quietly sob and your mind takes you back from how the ordeal even started and causes you to end up where you are right now– and it only makes you cry harder.

toji only lets out an exasperated sigh. he grabs his shirt from the floor and throws it on his shoulder before reaching the door.

“megumi won’t be coming home ‘til tomorrow. he said something about the train and the weather, so you can leave when you’re done. you know your way out.”

you hear the door close shut behind him and you’re left in the dark with nothing but the smell of his tobacco and the sounds of the drizzling rain accompanying you as you drown in your thoughts and griefs.

how many mistakes have you made today? four? five? or more?

you’ve lost count and you question yourself over again until you’re no longer able to care.

what’s done is done.

enjoyed this work? wanna buy me coffee? :)

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messwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Written for the Whorehouse Compilation [RAW DOG 1080p] (Try Not To CUM) Collab: Masterlist.

Open wide: the Doctor is IN

Shirabu Keijiro x Female Reader

Doctor Shirabu gives you a very special treatment on your first appointment.

Rating: E for explicit | Don’t read this if under eighteen.

Note: I’m sorry for being this late to the party. The cursed porn search we all have looked at least once (some... lots of times hehehe). THANKS TO @dymphnasprose for the little porn search bar i love them so much ;-; <3 My (very) late contribution to the Whorehouse Server CUMpilation. Thanks for letting me participate Miki! Doctor Shirabu is ready to see you now.

Warnings: POSSIBLE TRIGGERING CONTENT. CONSENSUAL NON-CONSENT. DOCTOR/PATIENT. MEDICAL PLAY. INAPPROPRIATE TOUCHES. WRONG GYNECOLOGICAL EXAM. Breast exam but not really. Corruption Kink. MEDICAL KINK. Use of medical equipment in inappropriate ways. ANAL PLAY. Established relationship clarified at the end: role-play. Poorly researched medical stuff. Overuse of Good Girl.

Word count: ~4.4k

You’re such a cute little thing.

Sitting on top of the big, pristine examination table, waiting for him while wearing an easy summer dress, square heels dangling from one side to the other as your hands fumble with your own fingers on your lap, eyes flying to him immediately as he enters the close space - big, bright eyes shining in the dull white hospital room, framed by beautiful eyelashes and soft makeup. Your tempting lips are almost deployed of lipstick from as much your teeth have punished the plush flesh.

“Hello.” Shirabu greets you with an easy smile, one that he doesn’t really use despite the little effort it takes.

“Oh, hi Doctor.” There’s an anxious smile on your lips and Shirabu feels a tingle start on his fingertips, climb his arm, spread down his back to burn in his guts. You’re so pretty when you’re nervous.

“How are we today? You can come and sit by the chair first.” Shirabu moves calmly, closing the door behind him; carefully turning the key without bringing attention. He’s still testing the waters but he can gather that you’re a trusting one, waiting to hear from him what exactly you need to do and then do it.

“Ahhh, um… I’m good, just came for my annual checkup.” You say while taking a seat on the chairs, only risking one look up at his face, then lowering those eyes onto his coat, clearly reading his name. Your expression seems surprised… but pleased. Is it because he’s young or because he’s attractive? Shirabu can’t decide, but there’s a clear smile in his lips as he looks you over, then circles his way to sit behind the table.

“Is this your first time here? If not, when was your last appointment?”

“Actually,” Your eyes meet his when your head angles up and you scurry them down as if you’re embarrassed. Your lips are once again suffering under your teeth before you free them and speak, “It’s my first. Like, ever.”

“Oh,” Shirabu let’s slip with a breath. There’s too much joy in that little sigh and in his tone when he asks, “Really?”

Your head goes up and down first, fingers fumbling, then you seem to remember that you need to speak with him, “Yes.”

“Do you have a medical file here already? Any complaints I should know?” Shirabu covers the usual bases first, calmly checking his agenda and time, how much he can have with you and how he can extend it.

“Hm… No complaints, except…” You fall silent for a moment and Shirabu can feel the burning in your face all the way through the table.

“It’s okay.” He’s quick to tranquilize you, “I’m your Doctor, you can tell me anything.”

“I think my birth-control is… uh, how can I say this? Making me… a little numb?” You tell him in a low voice, a hint of worry slipping through as you try to send him a little embarrassed smile as if you’re worried he may feel bad about it.

Shirabu is quick to smile back, so pleased at how you relax and melt back into yourself at the sight of it. He can’t help but think you’re such a good girl. “You didn’t answer the first question, though.”

“It’s my first time in the clinic as well. A friend of mine recommended it to me.” You give a precious little giggle as if your nervousness scrambles your train of thought and Shirabu thinks it’s endearing, especially the fact that you’re a pretty little thing who doesn’t know best and you’ve ended right on his lap.

Well, he plans to make the most of it.

“Hmm, understood. So, Miss… Is it Miss?” Shirabu sends you a charming smile, one he knows it’s good, and your eyes seem to flash with something at the sight of it, your throat bobbing right before your lips split in a little smile.

“Yes,” you giggle his way with a little roll of your eyes, as if it’s obvious and he makes a surprised face along with another dazzling smile. Shirabu has smiled more in the last ten minutes than n his whole week and he’s face will soon protest.

“Really? You’re so pretty, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone had already planted a ring on your finger.” God knows he would, and as fast as he could, too.

You bite at your lips to avoid a smile planting itself in your face, eyes fleeing from his as your hands fist your dress and you left a little breathy laugh out. As if he’s being ridiculous.

“Okay Miss, so since it’s your first time doing this check-up, I’ll need you to do a few things for me, okay?”

“Sure, Doctor.” God, that shouldn’t mess him up as it does, the hairs on his arm standing on edge at the delicious sound of it in your voice.

“I’ll need you to go to that bathroom right there, strip all your clothes including underwear and change into the paper gown that’s right on top of a cabinet there. Leave the opening to the front and then come back to sit at that examination table right there. Can you do this for me?”

“Of course, Doctor.” Warmth spreads from his body, rolls thick with his blood around his limbs and starts concentrating south. Jesus, you’ll be his demise like this.

“Good. Now go.”

Once you’re out of sight, Shirabu makes arrangements. And when you come back, clad in nothing but a paper-thin gown that leaves little to the imagination, he buttons his coat as long as it goes. Just to be sure.

His eyes thread carefully over your barely concealed body, enthralled by how your breathing comes in quick puffs of air, goosebumps rising on your skin under the cold temperature of the room. Pressing against the warmth of his palm at the slight touch of his fingers on your shoulder.

“You can sit at the examination table. We’ll start with a breast exam before you lie down, okay?” Shirabu knows his voice is sweeter than usual; carefully built in a trusty tone, words rolling off his mouth a little deeper, a little low - all just so he can assure he has your attention.

“I’ll start with a breast exam and then you can lie down.” He explains his steps one by one, so when he opens the front of the barely existing paper gown, all you do is take a sharp breath and slowly let the air out. So nice. Such a good girl for him.

He carefully brings his fingers to glide over the outskirts of your breasts, pressing on your flesh with steady, slow to warm digits. Shirabu feels as you fidget slowly when he circles the flesh once, slow and deliberate with the pressure he applies. “I’m checking for any unusual lumps around the tissue,” Shirabu tells that so close to your face he can feel the warm wave of air your gasp lets out at his words, and he pretends the little taste does nothing for him despite the way his blood boils in his veins.

He does the same circular motion a second time, then a third time in reverse, and all but grin in his self-satisfied way when he notices the shy nub stand to attention. Your brows are furrowed even from such little stimulation, throat bobbing as your mouth sucks cold puffs of breaths inside your lungs.

Shirabu’s digits slide up your collarbone, then press together in a quick motion from all the way up to under your breast, stealing just the slight touch over your erected nipple.

“Please put your hand over my shoulder,” Shirabu says carefully, detached; and is delighted when you push a little dazed “what” out your swollen lips.

He can’t help but smirk; poor little lamb is lost to the wolf around her - and his claws are already in.

“Like this, honey.” His hand takes yours in his, open your palm with his fingers to press it on his shoulder, a wide-angle that gives him better access and provides for a comfortable examination.

“Hm, okay!” You strangle it out, cute and bashful and Shirabu feels his slacks getting tighter.

“Good,” he breathes close to your face and restarts his movements, digits massaging up and down your chest, right side first as his fingertips get together to start to draw patterns from outside until the center in a repeated motion that ends with just a barely-there, butterfly touch over your nipples as he does a careful glide around the circle.

Your shoulders tremble and curve inwards as your abdomen seizes, hints of your pleasure that Shirabu can pinpoint even without his medical expertise. It makes his heart soars; such a little innocent thing that you can’t even speak up about it, just quietly suffering from the need growing inside you until you’ll burst.

His hand stops under your breast to weigh it, palm covering the extension of flesh as his thumb slides in a fond motion to the sides.

“Now I’ll do the left,” Shirabu announces and feels as you tense, eyes looking up at him in a lost haze even as you blink and nod. There’s a small storm brewing inside your eyes clouding them over, as if you’re struggling to catch up to his fingers, trying to fully wrap around his motions and still falling victim of your innocence, agreeable and placid, trained and directed to respect authority.

Dr. Shirabu knows best, you’re probably thinking as you nod once again, hands grabbing at anything they can to hide their trembling. Then he starts his ministrations by rolling your nipple with his thumb, drawing a gasp from you.

“Oh, sorry,” Shirabu says with fake sorrow before he starts the circling massage around your breasts once again.

A humming agreement is all you answer him, lips pressed together as if you’re embarrassed by the noise you’ve left. Oh, poor little thing.

He can’t wait to ruin you.

Shirabu wonders if you can notice how he changes the motions of his fingers this time around, pressing closer to the center and around the halo of your breast as he kneads the delicious mound with his digits.

Your knees are practically pressed together and you’re struggling to hold your shoulders up in a straight line and Shirabu is absolutely delighted at causing your downfall with such little, fickle things as the point of his fingers.

He waits for the moment where your teeth close sharply over your swollen lips, holding both breath and noise inside, and angles both his hands to press under your breasts, upwards motion that is a good excuse for groping - not that you’d know. Your spine curves as your head turn down in waves of burning hot embarrassment at your own behavior and Shirabu simply has to move before he does something bad.

Well, worst.

“All done,” he tells you with a small curve on his lips as he steps back. You wait for him to turn before letting a breath out, but even that sounds sharp in the silence of the room. Shirabu hides his hands from your eyes in his pockets, fingers twitching in the absence of your smooth skin under his digits.

“Now we’ll pass to the examination.” The little tremble in your frame is enough to add twisting fire into his veins, temperature rising even when the air conditioning is running low. Shirabu does his best in making his voice sound unaffected and neutral, walking over to the stirrups and adjacent dressing table where he keeps his medical gloves.

“You can lie down and put your legs over the supports.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

You obey like a good girl, the simple motion already flashing him the precious skin underneath, legs spread wide open and immobilized. Anxious eyes look for his in reassurance, then seem to think better of it as they fall down to watch your open legs. The view making you squirm once again in the padded table.

So precious.

And trusting.

Your hands are clasped over your belly in an attempt to keep them from fidgeting, eyes eagerly fleeting between Shirabu’s frame and the ceiling. He sends a smile your way as he pulls the chair close to the stirrups and your disconcert is practically charming.

When Shirabu walks over to sit between your open legs, his cock strains against his slacks, immoral coil twisted hard at the small peak of heavenly skin, of glistening folds swollen by the blood flow.

If only he could lick it.

There’s a tremble to your form that he can’t pinpoint, but the wide-open arch of your legs immobile over the stirrups clear are involved in; that, and the pulsating arousal in your center, if the way you’re throbbing open for him is any indication.

Shirabu had considered going slow, threading carefully before taking what he wants, but the fortitude of his mind is being challenged by the view alone: You, laying on the table, legs spread and skin glowing. It’s wicked. Shirabu wishes so much to taste, but he’s snapping his gloves on instead.

“Are you sexually active?” He makes small talk, chair sounding loud in the silent room as he finally takes his place on it.

“I’m, uh, not for a while.”

“Any unprotected intercourse?”

“Hm... N-no.” Huh. Shirabu doubts he was able to hide the motion in his lips signaling that the little slip in your tone isn’t lost. “Are you certain? We may need to do a test, just to be sure.”

Your eyes fleet to him, shining in the artificial illumination, flustered expression as you down them for your clasped hands after. It’s rather endearing to watch as your anxious behavior spike, the way you’re unable to twist or move, pinned there by physical barrier more than just his eyes.

“It’s possible.” You answer him, meek, and he tries not to smile. “But I’ve been on the pill.”

“Ok, then. You mentioned numbness. Did you mean during intercourse or just in general?”

“Sometimes general, but normally when I’m… touching… myself.”

Oh well. What a nice little improvement. His eyes bore on yours between the valley of your legs, the air surrounding you both turning thicker.

“Understood. I’m going to be touching you now.”

You nod, and then gasp when his hands actually touch the inside of your open thighs, a light caress to satiate the need to know how soft and plush you feel, and it’s exactly as much as you look. You suck in a breath slowly, and Shirabu lets his fingers slide up to your hot center.

“I’ll start with the pelvic exam. If you feel any pain or discomfort, just say so.” You nod and he starts slowly, two gloved fingers carefully threading over the swollen labia with acute precision, circling motions as he caresses the underside of your most sensitive place and downwards, rounds the dripping wet entrance, and sliding back up, fingers opening in a “v” motion, a small twirl around the engorged nub above it all. “I’m making an exterior exam, any numbness?”

You nod your negative. Eyes barely holding themselves open, teeth sunk on your lips. “Tell me if you either don’t feel anything or feel anything hurting.”

“Okay,” it’s mostly a whine, breath leaving your mouth as soon as you open it. He descends a third finger over your sex, up and down circling motions that rip a groan from your throat.

“Does anything hurt?” Shirabu’s voice is collected, calm, a stark contrast to the throbbing length in his pants. “Numb?”

“I...don’t think so?” You’re trembling, voice breathless as the stirrups squeaking under the strain of your thighs and Shirabu’s other hand comes up, palm planting over your pelvis, feeling the soft skin and then pressing his palm on it.

“Doesn’t seem like you have a problem with sensibility.” He tries to reassure you as his fingers thread to your entrance, indicator slowly tracing the tight circle pulsating in front of his eyes. You’re dripping wet, soaking his gloves and all he can think is what a delicious little patient.

“I’ll be entering you now, okay? There’s no need for the speculum, so I’m performing a touch exam.”

“Oh-kay, doctor,” comes your little gruff voice, putty under his hands and opening up nicely for his fingers when he presses inside. You’re tight, wonderfully so, clinging to his gloved fingers. Shirabu angles them up and deep, your blistering warmth spreading from his digits to his arm and then his whole body.

He’ll have to find a way to “test” you there, as well. He doesn’t retreat his fingers, but he aims the motions of them inside and above, looking for the sensitive place that’s bound to make you-

“Ah!”

There it is. Shirabu chuckles and rounds the place with his digits as your knees buckle inside then angling out, spreading wide. He retreats his fingers, rolling them with a little scissoring, then plunges deeper inside as an excuse of trying to reach your cervix. If only he could use his cock- that’d be way easier.

“And now?” Shirabu asks, wicked. “Any pain? Numbness?”

“N-uhnn-” You try to speak but choke on a soft moan, your hands flying to your face as you swallow and answer him back in a trembling tone, “No.”

“Anything else?” It’s teasing, clearly, but you don’t seem to notice it, dazed eyes searching for him as you wet your mouth before speaking.

“It feels… weird.”

“Really? ” Shirabu spreads his fingers a bit, rolls them to feel around your walls. “Why’s that?”

“I- I don’t know. It’s… good.”

“Hmmm… That’s interesting.” His gloved thumb descends over your labia, rolls over your clitoris with strict precision, fingers angling inside to meticulously hit that special place once again. The table squeaks under the strength of your buckling, open cunt pulsating around his fingers in plain view for his appreciative eyes. “You seem to be a bit oversensitive, not numb.”

“Is that- a problem?” You say between breaths as Shirabu’s thumb rolls over your clit. He’s astonished you don’t question any of his debatable moves, only looking at him with dazed, soft eyes.

“Depends. Do you always leak like this? It can be a condition.” Shirabu presses his palm over your pelvic bone, angle his fingers meticulously and swirl your clitoris with his thumb in firm precision. You moan and immediately recoil in embarrassment, mouth agape in your own surprise. Shirabu scissors his fingers in a rotating motion, inside and out for barely a few seconds and your spine arches off the table, mouth falling in a wide “o” as you tremble on his examination table.

Delicious.

“Sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No,” you answer in a breath.

Shirabu palms his length to release the pressure, cock straining at the soft expression of rapture on your eyes. “Everything seems good inside; But maybe you’re sensitive. I’ll keep that in mind for the next exams.”

“Is it… done?”

“Almost.” Shirabu smiles, but it's a be-ready-for-trouble one. “All we need is the ultrasound for the internal exam.”

“I thought you had just-”

“This one was the touch one, the next one is done with the ultrasound equipment. It will be inserted inside and then I’ll be able to take a good look at your uterus health.”

“Oh, okay.”

You seem focused on catching your breath as your stretched hole keeps winking at him, as if begging for more. Unfortunately, Shirabu has to move on. He pulls the equipment table close, moves the screen to the side and at a fairly inaccessible angle for your eyes. The transducer reminds a wand, long, shaped anatomically thin with a slightly larger head, barely two-fingers girth.

“Have you ever orgasmed before? Sensitive dysfunction can make it harder for women to achieve sexual gratification.”

“I… actually don’t know…”

Shirabu slides a condom on it, drops a generous amount of lube over it and then turns to you with a smile. Your legs twitch and your walls clench and he has a strike of brilliance right there as he eyes the pretty furl of muscle under your pleading pussy.

You yelp as he brings a lubed finger to draw rings over your rear, embarrassed eyes quickly searching for his.

“Doctor?!”

“Oh, sorry. The equipment goes in anally. Didn’t I mention that?”

“No?!” You groan, surprised, a soft breath escaping your lips.

“Sorry. I’m just preparing you, passing something to help it.” Shirabu explains, as a liar, and slowly work you open with his indicator pressing inside - carefully, slowly, with clinical precision until his whole knuckle is inside and your breathing is labored, open pussy throbbing for something he can’t give it to you just yet. How precious. “I’m inserting it now. Please tell me if it hurts.”

Shirabu angles the device on the lubed hole and watches, enthralled, as your ass swallows it’s wider head whole with just the first push, the rest of the body following easily as the tight ring presses the overflowing lube out. Fuck. Shirabu’s cock is weeping uncontrollably inside his slacks and he carefully brings a hand to help with the tightness of his pants, opening it enough to allow his thick length to escape free, but still covered by his lab coat.

Then Shirabu presses the device deeper, the angle sharp. He brings the receptor over your belly, presses way to closer to the apex of your sex. “Does it hurts?”

“No,” you breathe out, dazed.

“Does it feel good?”

“...Yes,” you sigh.

“Hmmm, interesting.” Shirabu retreats it, pretending to angle it somewhere else. He moves the equipment a bit more and your knees tremble as your pussy starts to drip on the floor. Jesus, that’s fucking hot. He leaves the receptor over your skin to fly his hand to his cock, slowly pumping it to relieve the throbbing ache. You’re way too lost in your own pleasure to notice his, and that only makes him more feral.

“You can feel something entering you now, but it’s just another equipment,” Shirabu says as he abandons his aching cock to slide two fingers inside your pleading hole, instead. He’s not even sure you understood his warning. Cute.

“Doctor,” you breathe, almost panicked and Shirabu rolls his thumb over your clit to hear you yelp, your ass tight around the transductor as he scissors his fingers on your wide-open cunt.

“Yes?”

“I feel... “ You sound so wrecked and lost, a shiver wandering down Shirabu’s spine as his throat bobs. Your pussy throbs around his fingers, begging for something it can’t even pinpoint. Poor thing.

“Pain?”

“No? Something… else.” Such a cute breathless voice, chest heaving with rabbit-fast beats that Shirabu almost can feel on his fingers deep inside your soaking walls.

“Pleasure?” He offers, fighting the need to smile at how your confused expression, brows furrowed as you try to think of another word but come ultimately short.

“I…” You start but bite your lips to hold the noise at how he aims at your special spot. Then blink twice, still losing the fight against the thick pleasure fog in your mind. “I guess?”

“Wow.” You’re so honest. Shirabu’s surprise is fairly genuine. He hopes his tone sounds more understanding than completely hungry. “Well… It’s not unusual for patients to feel arousal by exams considering their invasive nature. It’s okay, don’t panic.”

“But,” You start, tense and writhing, but Shirabu stands up, the equipment in your ass changing angle but his eyes are finding yours in the distance.

“It’s okay,” Shirabu repeats and you listen, hazed eyes focused entirely on him. “Take a deep breath.”

You obey so well, mouth opening as you breathe deep, chest filling even when Shirabu slowly edges the equipment out of your tight asshole. The fingers inside your pussy don’t stop, though, and he brings his other hand, now free, to aid him in wrecking you. “Now surrender to it. Let it wash over you…”

“I…” You whine and tense, but then his two hands are gliding over every erogenous zone on your labia with acute expertise, and you let go, bones essentially melting under his ministrations; letting out a soft, obedient, won over, “Okay.”

“Good girl.” He tells you and rotates his fingers in and out, keeping you nice, wet and wide. You’re close. Shirabu can feel it in how you’re swelling around him. “You’re an amazing patient, Miss. Just do as I say and I’m telling you to cum.” That does it, as your head angles back, hands holding yourself and the table as you take a deep breath.

“Yes, doctor,” You whisper and moan, surrendering to the intense orgasm that pulses suddenly through you and quivers around his fingers. It’s beautiful to watch you come undone, legs trembling sharply as they’re held wide open, pussy fluttering in a wave of wetness that joins the puddle on the ground, mouth open as your tongue slides past it, eyes rolling inside your skull and probably seeing white.

Shirabu never feels tired of it, finally angling himself to bend over your frame, mouth looking for yours quickly as he breaks character.

“Keijiro,” you sigh, pleasure-drunk and Shirabu licks over your open lips, bites on your jaw, sucks the skin to leave his marks.

“Yes, love.” He answers against your pulse point and you lets out a satisfied sigh by his ear.

“That was amazing.”

“You think so?” Shirabu rolls his hips against your bare, soaked wet pussy, and his free cock rolls deliciously between the lubricated folds. “I’m just starting, though, Miss. I think you’ll need a more thorough exam, though. With special equipment too.” He brings his hand to angle his cock on your entrance, eyes locked on yours as you blink and smile, blissed out and pleading. Shirabu presses himself inside and you throw your head back in bliss, hands planting on his shoulders with sharp nails aiming for his skin. “Such a good patient I have. Open wide, love.”

You arch your head back to look up at him, mouth falling open on command, for Shirabu to do as he pleases. You, wide open on his table, for him to do as he pleases. He’s your husband after all and you’ve learned from a long time that what pleases Dr. Shirabu Kenjiro the most is picking you apart piece by piece, white bliss searing your every nerve-end as you fall and shatter for him, drowning under his thumb as he holds you down waves of pleasure, dragging you like the tide - strong and unyielding until it hurts to even breathe.

The mere thought of having more makes your lips fall open in a moan, “yes, Doctor.”

Because you love everything about that.

#shirabu kenjiro x reader #shirabu smut #haikyuu smut #shirabu kenjirou smut #shirabu kenjirou x reader #tw consensual noncon #tw medical kink #tw medical roleplay #tw doctor

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 4 years ago

Text

Love is a Bundle of Contradictions.

This artwork was a piece I commissioned from @shimmeryspark!

... There is no explanation for this other than my friends encouraged me to write Valentine’s Day Raven and Jade fluff, since the main saga is a bit lot of angst right now. (Special thanks to @twstpasta since they let me borrow their twstsona for plot reasons :9)

Imagine this...

“You WHAT?!”

“Ehehe~ Sorry...!! I guess I went and made a bad decision, heehoo~” Mac stuck out their tongue and lightly bonked their own head with a fist. “Silly me~”

“Making a deal with Azul is the very definition of a bad decision,” Raven groaned, slapping a hand to her face. “I... I cannot believe you. Dare I ask what the conditions were?”

“I gave him my taste buds! He said he’ll give them back if you help out with stocking up on supplies for the Mostro Lounge.”

“That’s... suspiciously simple. And you really just handed over your taste buds just like that? You can’t taste your beloved cheese anymore.”

“I know!” Mac pouted. “It’s so sad, so you’ll help this rataroni out, right?”

“I find it odd that Azul is demanding my assistance, seeing as how I am not the one that made the deal with him to begin with. However... I cannot turn my back on a friend in need. I will lend you a helping wing—er, hand.”

“Sweet, sweet!!” Mac clasped Raven’s hands happily. “Just remember to show up this Sunday afternoon. Meet up’s in the town square. Oh, and be sure to wear something cute!”

“Something cute? Why would...”

“It’s part of the deal—so you just gotta, okay? That’s what Azul said!” Mac paused, before adding, “Oh, oh! And bring some homemade choco in a heart-shaped box!! That’s another contract condition!”

“Oh... O-Okay...?”

Raven leaned back against a lamp post, anxiously winding a finger around the string of small pearls at her collarbone. In her other hand was a bag, and in that bag, a heart-shaped box of homemade chocolates—just as Mac had told her.

A silver heart-shaped charm dangled from the necklace, lying still against her real hammering heart. Rarely did she venture out into the local town—and, standing there by her lonesome, the raven felt out of place and awkward.

An addendum to a story that had already been penned.

She watched as her silver charm caught a wink of sun and guided the light down its curve. Reflected back in the charm’s surface was the raven herself.

Today, her inky hair was cast up in a high pigtail and secured with a cobalt ribbon. She had traded her usual outfit for a pale blouse with billowy puff sleeves, white stockings, and a high waist skirt in a plaid pattern—cobalt, like her ribbons.

I hope this satisfies the conditions of the deal.

Raven checked the time on her phone; any minute now, Azul would be showing up, and they’d get this over with. Then she could return to her attic to roost, and Mac could return to feasting on cheese and inhaling poison—

“Oya. Do my eyes deceive me, or is that you, Miss Raven?” a silken cadence called out to her, rising above the hustle and bustle of the town.

“... You,” she responded flatly, narrowing her eyes at a certain eel as he parted from a crowd.

Ah.

Jade, too, had abandoned his typical uniform in favor of casual comfort. He wore a pair of dress pants and a grey turtleneck—and over it was a brown trench coat, unbuttoned to show off how snugly that sweater fit against his lean, muscular body.

Raven squinted. His earring was slightly different today as well. Rather than three diamond shaped sturgeon scales dangling from his ear, there were heart shaped ones. Blue and glassy, like the calm sea after a storm.

His hands were polite folded behind his back... hiding something. Whatever that something was, petals of pink, red, and yellow-orange were poking out.

If she didn’t know any better, she would have said he looked handsome—and innocent—enough. But she did know better.

“What are you doing here?” Raven demanded, no longer playing with her necklace. Her hands went to her sides, curling into balls.

“Fufufu. The town is a public space. I am free to come and go as I please, the very same as you.” Jade tilted his head to one side. “Although today, I am here on an errand. The Mostro Lounge is short on centerpiece supplies, you see. I have been sent to restock.”

“What a coincidence. I’m also here to help the Mostro Lounge restock,” Raven said, a bit of bitterness slipping into her voice, “as per a contract.”

Jade attempted to appear sympathetic—but he allowed a cruel chuckle to escape him. “I see now. I was not aware that you were the one indebted to Octavinelle, Miss Raven. Had I known sooner, I would not have hesitated to summon you to fill in for Kon-san’s morning shift.”

“I’m not a waitress for you to order around.” Raven jutted out her chin defiantly. “I’m here strictly on business, so if you would kindly leave me be...!!”

“I believe you said you had to assist the Mostro Lounge. Would it not be prudent, then, to go about tending to that duty rather than standing about and looking like a lost lamb?”

“Sh-Shut up! It’s not my fault that Azul is running late...!!”

“You were waiting for Azul?” Jade said, his brows pinching together briefly. “You are terribly mistaken. It is not Azul who is assisting you with the restock, but myself.”

“... Beg pardon?”

Wear something cute, bring homemade chocolates, Mac had said. And it has to be you, Raven, not me! But why? Slowly, slowly... The pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

A thought dawned on Raven:

I’ve definitely been tricked.

“Well!! That’s all fine and dandy, but I think I shall be on my way home now. I really must be having a chat with a friend of mine,” she babbled, turning on her heel. They’re going to be buried in tomato sauce when I get to them.

“How cruel of you to abandon those in need, Miss Raven. And to think that Mac-san shall be without their taste buds... and I, burdened with the task of restocking by my lonesome. What a tragic way to spend Valentine’s Day,” Jade exhaled deeply and wiped at an imaginary tear. “Shikushikushiku...”

Raven’s left eye twitched. “Don’t you paint me as the bad guy here...!!”

“Aren’t you?” Jade challenged, a smile still plastered on his face despite his mocking tone.

“Grrr...!!” She whipped around, thrusting an index finger at him. “Listen here... Leech!! The only reason I am even here was to help someone out of a contract your shady boss roped them into!”

“If you are as selfless and loving as you claim to be, then you should have no issues with shopping with me,” Jade countered smoothly. “After all, they say that actions speak louder than words.”

The little bird vibrated with irritation, her cheeks puffed out in a pout. Her stomach coiled tight, uneasiness brewing. As much as she hated to admit to it, he was right.

Raven clenched her teeth and sent a glare his way. “Fine...!! But I will be keeping an eye on you to ensure that there is no funny business!”

“Then by all means, ‘keep an eye on me’, and do not let your gaze stray for even a single moment,” Jade chuckled, somehow sneering through his smile. “I welcome it.”

The eel held out a hand to Raven. “We’d best not be separated while on our errand.”

She stared hesitantly. Her eyes flickered between his eyes and the hand he offered. Subtle changes in her expression occurred in rapid succession—the raising of her lids, the tremble to her lower lip, the tinge to her cheeks.

“... Yeah. We’d best not,” Raven finally agreed, her grip on her bag—the bag containing her chocolates—tightened. “Which is precisely why I will follow you at a safe distance.”

“Ah, but that would ruin the surprise.”

“What, the bouquet? You’re not exactly doing a masterful job of hiding it.”

“Nor are you doing well to hide your little surprise, Miss Raven.”

“I was deceived. This chocolate is not meant for you.”

“I didn’t say that it was, now did I?”

“... I’m going to eat them myself, then. That’ll show you!”

“Do with it what you wish, for selfish purposes or not,” Jade laughed, revealing his bouquet—all the colors of the setting sun. “These flowers, on the other hand, are meant to be gifted...”

He pushed the bouquet toward Raven. Up close, the flowers seemed even more vibrant and beautiful. Their warm hues enveloping the raven, enchanting her senses. Mesmerized, she reached out to accept the flowers—when Jade suddenly clicked his tongue and pulled them away.

“But alas—not to you,” he teased, pressing a finger to his lips. “Do try to keep up with me now, Miss Raven.”

Jade turned and dove into a sea of townspeople, leaving a trail of sunset-colored petals in his wake. And, like the fool that she was, a fuming raven stormed after him—chocolates still in hand. Heart quivering.

Terrariums—the flowers were meant for terrariums all along.

Jade had taken his sweet time leading her down a winding path and to an art supply store tucked away in a corner, and even longer to observe the shape and feel of each terrarium container. Spherical, cuboidal, prismatic... Holding up the bouquet every so often to compare how the flowers would look in each.

In the end, he had gone wild with his purchases, electing to buy a selection of shapes, along with other supplies—just to keep himself amused. Jade had paid with a platinum card embossed with Octavinelle’s logo. Mostro Lounge Master Cash Card, it read. Azul’s property; do not steal! Sign the loaning form if you must borrow.

It was all for the terrariums, for business as usual.

I should have realized sooner. Stupid, stupid, Raven scolded herself.

She grunted, struggling to carry the bagful of terrarium supplies that Jade had saddled her with, while he carried one of his own without any trouble. The eel cast her a mocking glance over his shoulder.

“Are you in need of a break, Miss Raven?”

Bite me, she wanted to snap back—but a bark of pain shot up her arms, silencing her defiance. “... M-Maybe.”

He sighed in an exaggerated fashion. “Very well. I see a café up ahead. We can rest there for a few moments, though it may require the purchase of a food item if we wish for a table.”

“Sounds peachy.”

Together, they swept through the café doors. The duo was immediately greeted by the smell of sugar and the hum of the other patrons, many of them couples.

Raven stiffened at the sight, turning a deep shade of red. Suddenly, she was very, very aware of how she—and Jade—looked.

“I think I changed my mi—“ Raven was cut off when he grasped her hand and held fast. She jolted back, her skin turning clammy. “Eeep! Wh-What are you...”

“Table for two,” Jade requested of an employee. “We do not intend to stay for a large meal, so just an ice-cream parfait will do.”

“Certainly, sir. Right this way.” The server quickly seated them, and with a bow, departed to retrieve their order.

“... You can let go of my hand now,” Raven hissed, attempting to free herself. To no avail, initially. She tugged again, and finally broke free, aggressively rubbing at her hand to ward off the residual eel cooties.

Jade chuckled, tucking his strand of black hair behind his ear. His earring glimmered in the afternoon sunlight pouring in through wide windows. “Play along. You are aware that today is Valentine’s Day, yes?”

“Yes, but I do not understand what that has to do with... physical contact, especially seeing as how we are not engaged in that kind of a relationship.”

“It is simple.” He laced his fingers together, resting his chin on them. With the most serene of smiles, Jade purred, “We should take advantage of the couple discounts being offered at eateries such as this. An excellent way to save on spending, especially after that particularly large purchase made on the Mostro Lounge’s coin.”

“You’re a shrewd one.”

“Why, thank you.”

Raven’s hands curled in her lap. Her lips pursed, she found her gaze trained on the white lace of the tablecloth, rather than on her dining companion.

Time and time again, she has been tricked today, told white lies. Teased and deceived. It was simply how he was—and though it did irk her in some ways, it also never made a moment dull.

Hot and cold. Push and pull. Bitter and sweet. That was Jade Leech.

“Your parfait is here!!” The server from before popped up in her periphery, startling the raven from her thoughts. They set it down and stepped back. “Here you are—enjoy your date!”

“Thank you. We certainly will,” Jade reacted before Raven could and dismissed the server with a wave. “... Well, let’s dig in.”

“You didn’t correct them.”

“We won’t get the discount if they don’t believe this farce,” he replied calmly, nudging the parfait and a spoon toward her. “Now then, less talking and more eating. You need your strength if you plan on helping me haul all the supplies back to campus.”

She let out a huff, but dug her spoon into a frozen mound. The parfait was massive, composed of several scoops of pink, blue, and green ice-cream, flanked by chocolate wafer bars. With a smattering of sprinkles, a crown of whipped cream, and a maraschino cherry on top, the dessert looked absolutely picture perfect.

Raven steadily brought a spoonful of pink goop into her mouth, allowing a sweet bubblegum flavor to spread across her tongue. Her eyes cut to Jade, who had not bothered to sample any for himself. He smiled back, gaze half-lidded as if recalling a fond memory.

“Have some, too. I feel weird eating it alone—and you must be hungry too. I know how big your appetite is.” Raven pushed the parfait glass toward him.

“If you insist.”

The head of his spoon sunk into a green scoop with shards of chocolate chip weaved throughout. It pulled away cleanly with a large mound, which was soon consumed. Then another bite, and a third, a fourth... Before Raven knew it, a good third of the parfait was missing.

Jade patted his mouth with a napkin, eyeing her expectantly.

“Are you still hungry?” Raven asked, eyebrows raising. She retrieved a scoop of blue this time—vaguely flavored like a medley of fruits.

“Perhaps... though I do not plan on taking more of the parfait for myself. Were I to, there would be none left for you.”

The fruit seemed to sour in her mouth. It was true that she was hungry, yes—but at the same time, she did not wish for Jade to be left dissatisfied.

She frowned, setting her spoon down and reaching into her bag. Seconds later, she produced a heart-shaped package and shoved it at him.

“Here, chocolates. They’re yours now, since I have no other use for them,” Raven mumbled insistently. “You can eat them now, or save them for later. Just hurry up and take them before I change my mind.”

“Oya, it is rather bold to profess your undying love to me in such a public space.” Jade teased, chuckling lightly into his hand.

“B-Be quiet...!! We... We can’t get that couple’s discount if one of us passes out from hunger.”

“Fufufu. I doubt that either of us would.” His mismatched eyes twinkled with mirth. “... Thank you for the sweets, Miss Raven. I will be certain to savor every last bite.”

The town became even busier in the late afternoon, filing with the sound of street performers and spectators. A monkey in a vest and a small hat barreled by Raven’s feet as she and Jade exited the café, nearly causing her to double over. A chorus of children’s laughter chased after the monkey—and she, the raven, stumbled on her recovery.

“Perhaps now would be a good time to reconsider my offer,” Jade suggested, a hand on the small of her back to support her. That same hand trailed around and tickled the back of hers. “It would be a shame if we lost one another in this crowd.”

Raven regarded him with a pointed look, but slipped her hand into his without further resistance. “... Only because I have to.”

“Of course, of course.”

Together, they braved the bustling streets.

A new world unfolded before Raven’s very eyes. Costumed performers of all kinds paraded about, garnering attention from passerbys. Some tossed confetti and candies, others brandished instruments. Brass, strings, percussion—all their notes floated up into the festive atmosphere.

There went a dancer, leaping like a lithe deer, limbs outstretched and the flowy fabric of their uniform like a curtain of smoke. And here was an artist perched on a stool, sketching the outline of a woman posed on a wooden crate. A young man jingled a tambourine, trying to catch coins in his cap.

A number of food carts patrolled the roads, calling out their wares. Crepes, sandwiches, sodas... Families, friends, and couples lining benches, exchanging bites.

Love was truly in the air and oozing out of every pore of the community.

Raven couldn’t keep her head still. She turned this way and that, trying to soak up every last sight and sound. Her golden eyes sparkled with wonder.

Jade, of course, took note. “Excited, are you?”

“It’s very different than Night Raven College,” she replied shyly. “Almost like a magic kingdom.”

“Magic kingdom? You can be rather melodramatic at times.”

“Yeah? So can you and Azul and Floyd, with all your fake tears...” Her wandering eyes caught something bright red as she spoke. “Oh...!! Look.”

Raven tugged on Jade’s hand, urging him to a halt. Her gaze was transfixed on a lamp post with a multitude of red strings. At the other ends of those ribbons were heart-shaped balloons, as red as blood.

His eyebrows pinched together in mocking sympathy. “You truly are fascinated by the simplest things. Is it true what they say? That ravens are attracted to shiny objects?”

Her mouth flew open to protest, but she was interrupted by a woman by the balloon-bearing lamp post “You there!! Sir with the earring and ma’am with the blue ribbon! Care for some balloons?”

“Er... What are they for?” Raven asked.

“For love, of course,” the woman laughed. “Today’s all about appreciating one another, right? This is my way of spreading love.”

She separated three balloons from her bundle and offered them with a flourish. Raven eagerly accepted them, staring up in wonder at their floating bodies.

“Oh, and one more thing!!” The woman produced a red ribbon from her jacket pocket and nodded at the duo. “Your pinkie fingers, please!”

Raven held out her hand as directed, letting the woman secure the ribbon in a neat little knot. The balloon bearer extended the length of the ribbon, glancing to Jade. Raven, too, looked at him expectantly. Jade expelled a quiet sigh and allowed the red ribbon to be tied to his pinkie.

“There you go!” the woman declared triumphantly. “You’re all set now! Enjoy the rest of your Valentine’s Day, folks!”

“Thank you!” Raven shouted over her shoulder—even as Jade started to lead her away. The woman waved and waved until she was out of sight.

“... It has been a while since I have seen you this enthusiastic,” Jade remarked with a glance to the balloons. “I do suppose it is a departure from the monotony of daily life, but to think that such little things bring this amount of joy...”

“It reminds me of a story a little birdie once told me,” Raven chirped with a small giggle. “The story of the Red Thread of Fate.”

“Oh?” Jade raised an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

“The Red Thread of Fate is said to connect ‘destined people’. It can tangle, twist, or stretch, but it can never break. From the moment you are born, you have an unseen thread flowing from your pinkie finger, tying your fate to that of the person on the other end,” Raven recited, her tone turning solemn—her storytelling voice.

“Someday,” she said, “you will cross paths with the one that shares your thread, and your lives will be forever changed by the encounter. It could be a meaningful battle between rivals, the loss of a loved one, the promise of marriage... but the course of their stories will never again be the same.”

“How sentimental. And what, pray tell, does this red thread of ours mean, Miss Raven?” Jade questioned, lifting his end of the ribbon—the crimson shining in the sunlight.

“How would I know? I’m not a god,” she huffed. “It’s just fun to imagine the possibilities.”

“It is, indeed. Even so, surely there must be one favored conclusion to the story of the Red Thread of Fate in that pretty little head of yours.” He brought a hand to his mouth, yanking Raven toward him.

She glanced up with a glare. “I’d have to have a bird brain to tell you that.”

“Is that not the duty of a storyteller? To stand on stage and tell the tale until the curtain closes. Your adoring audience awaits.”

“You’re being booted from the metaphorical theater before you get to hear or see the ending.”

“I would like to see you try.”

Jade slowed to a stop, Raven following suit. They were back in the town square, by the lamp post where they had met up. Ending where it had all begun.

He pulled out his phone and consulted the time. Jade unlocked his device, quickly wrote up a message, and tucked it away again. “I can take it from here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Besides,” Jade cast a pitiful look at Raven’s trembling arms, “I doubt you would be able to haul those supplies the remainder of the way, and certainly not in an efficient manner.”

“... Then what was the point of stating in the contract that you needed a helping hand?”

“I am afraid that even I am not entirely privy as to Azul’s intentions,” he chuckled, gently prying a bag from her hands. “I will be certain to let Azul know that Mac-san’s end of the contract has been fulfilled.”

“Eh...? But—“

“You have our thanks for lending the Mostro Lounge your time. You are free to go now, Miss Raven. I’ve already summoned Floyd in your stead to assist me.”

“Th-The ribbon, you fool! I can’t leave if I’m still bound to you!”

“Oh? You don’t say.” His singsong held no concern whatsoever, only amusement.

“S-Stop playing dumb! You know very well what you are doing!!”

“You said it yourself, Miss Raven. Our lives have been forever changed since our encounter. There is no going back now.”

“Stop manipulating the narrative to suit your needs.”

“I haven’t the faintest clue what you mean. Jade smiled, feigning innocence. “You’ve resigned yourself to spending the rest of the day with me—at least until Floyd arrives to relieve you of your burden. Ah, but given his moodiness, who knows when that will be.”

“Just because your surname is Leech doesn’t mean you need to suck the life out of me like one,” Raven snapped. She reached for the red ribbon, intending to undo it—

—only to be met with a bouquet a second time. Flowers the color of the sunset, smelling like the drip of sunshine and a cut of meadow.

“For you—no strings attached this time.”

“Those are for the terrarium centerpieces.”

“I can easily replace them,” Jade insisted, “and I must repay you for your kind chocolate gift. Consider this... ‘favors for favors’, so that neither one of us is left indebted to the other.”

“... Alright. I’ll take them, but only because they might be useful for brewing some new inks.”

“I’m glad to see that you are being agreeable.” Jade slipped the flowers to her. “Take good care of them.”

Raven leaned against a lamp post, cradling the large bouquet in one arm. Her heart fluttered, and her limbs felt as light as air. Warm and floaty, like the balloons in her hand.

Favors for favors—but it still counted as a gift from Jade, and that very thought sent her mind spiraling. She took a shaky breath, and focused on the confetti and laughter in the distance, the song and dance of the street performers.

Waiting and waiting for Floyd.

“Miss Raven.”

“What now? Haven’t you bullied me enough for today? Are you still not satisfied, you sadist?”

She dared to lift her eyes to meet Jade’s—and her heart stood still, for he looked back. His sharp eyes soft and shrouded by long lashes, his lips pulled into a tender smile.

“Contract or no, I always enjoy my time with you—I enjoyed today,” Jade murmured. “I hope that we are able to do this again sometime.”

“... Shut up. J-Just shut up already, i-it’s embarrassing listening to you speak...!!” She buried her head in the flowers, concealing her pink face. Still feeling floaty, like a balloon, high on happiness.

“Fufufu. Happy Valentine’s Day, Miss Raven.”

#twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #Jade Leech #Raven Crowley #Jade Leech thirst #something no one asked for

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wolf-and-bard · 4 years ago

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The Geraskier dark academia AU of my dreams (because writing these up keeps me sane; TLDR at the bottom because this escalated):

-Jaskier is so ready for college. Like, the readiest he's ever been for anything in his life. He couldn't wait to get out of his stuffy family home, away from his narrow-minded hometown, he is ready. He signs up for a Liberal Arts major, moves into a dorm, drinks his brains away during the first week. He makes an archnemesis, he makes friends, he live-documents the whole affair on Snapchat for his friend Triss who lives across the country, but is always with him in spirit. Life is good.

-Jaskier doesn't think twice when his roommate Zoltan invites him to come along to a party at the Kaer Morhen fraternity house because hello? Orientation week was last month, high time he goes to an actual frat party full of guys like wardrobes that eminate sexual self-assuredness and hopefully some sexual flexibility as well. He puts on his most revealing shirt and too tight jeans and joins Zoltan. The fraternity house is old, red-brick with sandstone pillars and iron-wrought gates which would seem rusty if not for the ivy that curls around them. It's chock-full with people of every kind of major and age, most of them drunk beyond reason by the time Jaskier and Zoltan arrive. Zoltan disappears in a tangle of rugby-players and leaves Jaskier to his own devices. He befriends a group of Archeology majors, their leader being a cute blond called Filavandrel, and they share a bottle of red wine, round and round. He meets his archnemesis, the one he spent all orientation week bickering about music with, Valdo or some nonsense, and they do tequila shots. It’s a nice party and Jaskier has the time of his life until he returns from the bathroom to find a god of a guy standing in the hallway.

-"Oh hello," Jaskier mutters under his breath. Before, his evening was aimless, he let the wave of the vibe take him wherever, let the alcohol blur the world around him. But now, he has an objective. And that objective stands all by his lonesome, scowling down the hallway. Man, does he brood well. Jaskier usually goes for people that are easy to read if some casual fun is what he has in mind -and it's not out of his mind just yet - but this guy intrigues him; there is more to him than simple dudebro-ness. He has shock-grey hair and startling amber eyes and seems to cast the longest shadow. Jaskier wants to ride him. Jaskier also wants to serenade him on a starlit wooden bridge and collect all the guy's deepest secrets and desires to keep under his pillow and draw divine inspiration from. Okay, that may be the Tequila shots talking. He scurries over to the bar, downs another two, then approaches the guy.

-"Hi," Jaskier says as he sidles up to him. The guy half-heartedly raises his beer in greeting. Taciturn, dark, dramatic. Jaskier decides to go for it. "I absolutely adore the way you just stand here and brood." (Jaskier will only learn much much later that he accidentally used some weird Kaer Morhen frat code and set off a chain of events that changed his life forever). "Lamb," the guy calls out instead of answering, something that makes Jaskier think he's so far gone that he's actively hallucinating. But no, seconds later a guy with equally lush red hair and equally thick arms appears from the crowd. He wears a scowl which has Jaskier's throat tighten. "What is it, Wolf?" Wolf, huh? "Go collect Goat and Kitty-Cat. I found him." And Wolf-Guy grabs Jaskier by the back of the neck and hauls him through a door, down some stairs - is that marble? are those torches? GARGOYLES? - and into pitch blackness. Jaskier squeals. This is what he imagined when he dreamt of college. Well not exactly this, but close enough.

-They bind him with silk scarfs and put a blindfold over his eyes which, okay. Jaskier knows he shouldn't find this as sexy as he does, but he can't help it. He has no sense of self-preservation and this will just be the best of fuel for the first assignment in his screenwriting class. "Oh, this is fun," he murmurs when someone tugs off his boots and someone else smears a fatty paste onto his lips. It smells like... okay it smells lot like his uncle Matthew's pigsty. Weirdly disgusting. "Who are you guys anyway?"

-They don't speak at all that night, don't take off the blind-fold until way later. All night, Jaskier can hear them rustling around him, chanting in some language he doesn't understand. They give him several drinks, most of which honestly taste like asphalt, but make his insides go fuzzy. When the blindfold comes off eventually, Jaskier finds himself on the front-seat of a pick up truck, Wolf guy behind the wheel. They are parked behind the frat house. "Look, I don't think you're a suitable candidate. The guys all said they want to keep you, but my friend recognized you from the freshman introduction party and we usually only inaugurate sophomores." Jaskier blinks. He has absolutely no idea what's going in anymore. His friend Triss is probably worried sick because he hasn't checked in all evening. The faint taste of burned rubber clings to his lips and all Jaskier can think is: Fuck, is this man hot. "Go out with me," he blurts. "Go out with me, I'll show you how suitable I am."

-Over the course of a month's worth of introductions, preparation and inauguration traditions (which, among other things, have him dropped butt-naked in the middle of the forest, requiring him to find his way back to campus; have him spend more time learning long-dead languages than he is comfortbale with; have him getting thoroughly intimate with Eskel's (Goat) helper syndrome, Lambert (Lamb) and Aiden's (Kitty-Cat) ostentatiously loud fucking, Coen's (Hawk) frequent absences and Geralt's (Wolf) quiet, but passionate idealism) Jaskier learns the truth at the core of Kaer Morhen. It is more than a fraternity, it is a brotherhood of students that spend their free time in rituals to protect the college, its city, likely even the whole state from supernatural creatures that threaten to cross over into the world. The existence of these is no surprise to Jaskier who's come out of an adolescence of escapism and coping through fiction and song, but the fact that there are handsome tough guys who work to banish him is too much of a dream to be true. It is true. Unofficially, the call themselves Witchers. They catch wraiths in cricles of runes, they re-direct necrophages into Kaer Morhen's basement and slay them with blades of silver. They brew potions and cast minor spells to get rid of mutated insectoids. And Jaskier is to be one of them. They call him Lark.

-His first ritual goes bat-shit wrong. Jaskier is reasonably sure he did everything right, but the wraith doesn't stay contained after they bound it . "Fuck," Geralt growns after, pressing a cloth to the gaping wound in Jaskier's shoulder while they wait for Eskel to whip out the first aid kit. Jaskier shudders, can taste blood. "There shouldn't be fireflies here, right?" - "Ah, nope," Lambert says. He keeps snapping his fingers before Jaskier's eyes. "Hey, Lark, stay with us, okay?" - "He's fine," Aiden says, inspecting his nails. "If anything, it's Geralt we should be worried about. He's about to have a full blown panic attack." Geralt grunts and holds Jaskier closer.

-"Does this mean I can ask Priscilla to let me copy her homework," Jaskier asks later. He's in bed, bundled up in one of Kaer Morhen's bedrooms. Portraits of alumni line the wall and a hearth crackles away. Geralt sits next to the bed, a pretense-book on his lap. His eyes bore into Jaskier, wide, haunted. "Jask," he breathes out shakily. - "Hello, big guy. How are we doing?" - "Better now that you're awake. We... we had to call in Vesemir. He will want to talk to you." - "Alright, okay," Jaskier says. He knows who Vesemir is of course, but he has no idea what exactly his job entails or what having to talk to him means. "Geralt?" - "Hmm?" - "What did I do wrong?" - "Nothing. You were uncharacteristically precise... but it turns out I was right all along. You're not suited for this kind of work." - "Because I'm not big and buff like all of you?" Jaskier asks, pouting. Geralt has the audacity to laugh. But he also takes Jaskier's hands and kisses his knuckles and huh? What? Jaskier's brain short-circuits. Fuck when did he fall so hard for Geralt? "No, Jask, you're perfect. I mean, uh, ah, perfectly annoying." That bastard. "The wraith went crazy because it turns out you're an amplifier. That means supernatural creatures are pulled to you and can draw from you to manifest easier in our world. You wouldn't have noticed this unless you ever passed by a spot where the spheres overlap significantly. As it is, your participation in the ritual poses a danger." - "TLDR: I'm fired?" - "That's for Vesemir to decide... truth be told, I don't want you to go. But I can't stand the thought of you being in danger. Because of me, this." - "Go out with me, Geralt. Please. One coffee," Jaskier practically begs. Yes, his shoulder is minced meat and he feels exhausted from the blood loss but Geralt has never been this open and honest with him. "...fine."

-Jaskier heals up under the diligent care of his friends. Priscilla is allowed over too, practically drags him though his classes with tutoring and copies of her homework and sugar-coated emails to his various professors. Triss video-calls him three times a day. Eskel's med school expertise leaves Jaskier with the most neat scar he is ever going to get out of this, Lambert and Aiden hang out to play Gwent with him, a strange card game they invented and custom-painted, Coën even pops in to bring Jaskier his guitar and a venti Matcha Tea Latte even though the nearest Starbucks is miles away. Geralt... Geralt is there almost all the way. He sleeps in the chair at first, then - on Jaskier's stern insistence - in the bed with him, though careful to keep his distance. He helps Jaskier into the shower, something so strangely intimate without feeling innately sexual, he takes him out on slow walks. Geralt doesn't talk much, but Jaskier knows he feels responsible. It's fine. Sure. Absolutely fine. Jaskier is so far gone for this man by the time he moves back into his own dorm that he considers getting injured again just to have Geralt by his side. They never do go out for coffee.

-Vesemir doesn't so much invite Jaskier as have him called out of his choir session by a girl about Jaskier's age. She has the same hair color as Geralt and Jaskier thinks he's seen her around Kaer Morhen's bigger parties. "Hello, Jaskier," she says sweetly, but one look at her tells Jaskier she's deadlier than any of the frat boys. If his drunk memory serves correctly she also does a phenomenal keg stand. "Ves sends me to collect you." Which has Jaskier even more impressed with her. None of the boys dare to call him anything but Vesemir or Sir, even when he's not around. - "I've been expecting this," Jaskier says, shouldering his bag. The girl laughs and grabs his arm to guide him out of the building and across campus. - "You are cute," she says. "Geralt said so, but I thought that was just because he's so infatuated with you. I'm Ciri, by the way, his younger sister." Infatuated, huh? Jaskier has just enough brainspace left to save her name. Ciri. They will have to become very good friends. Infatuated.

-It turns out, Vesemir isn't half as scary as the boys made him out to be. He's closer to sixty than fifty, has a stern face, but a kindly voice and the first thing he does after dismissing Ciri with a meaningful glance is offer Jaskier a glass of whiskey. Jaskier sneaks a photograph of the bottle's label when Vesemir stands at the window and glances down at the campus, hands clasped behind his back. Triss will never believe this. It's the sort of alcohol that exists only in myth, at least to college students. "So, Mr. Pankratz. I'm afraid apologies are in order." - "Please, I prefer Jaskier." - "I know," Vesemir says and turns. "I would kindly ask you to delete that picture, my office and its contents fall under the terms of the non-disclosure agreement you signed when entering our brotherhood." Jaskier gulps heavily, the whiskey suddenly sour on his tongue. But he's quick to paste over a smile. He's gotten this far with the mysterious Kaer Morhen fraternity, he can pull all the way through. He deletes the picture. "Good," Vesemir says. "Now down to business." Vesemir gives him two options. Jaskier can consult a local magical artisan and have his memories of Kaer Morhen's true purpose removed. It is an easy procedure, won't cost him anything. Except for his new-found friends and the love he feels for Geralt. Except for the only place he's ever truly felt at home. Jaskier chooses the latter option which is to become the fraternity's chronicler.

-After that, things are supposed to calm down and they do, for a bit. Geralt still dodges any and all attempts Jaskier makes at flirting even though it's evident his resolve is thinning out. Jaskier observes and documents the rituals, begins to collect old notebooks. He's planning to go above and beyond his job and compile a comprehensive history of Kaer Morhen and its members before he's graduated. He may not be able to partake in the rituals or help the guys protect this city from monsters, but he can play his part. Leave behind a legacy.

-Between that and his normal studies, hanging out with his theater group, meeting Triss on alternate weekends and throwing epic frat parties, all of Jaskier's time is consumed. There are several instances in which Geralt and him almost manage to have their coffee, but then they have Eskel on the phone because Lambert and Aiden managed to give themselves poisoning over a simple Endrega job, or Priscilla needs an emergency stand-in for her weekly performances at a local bar, or Jaskier is simply too tired and falls into bed, sleeping over Zoltan's aggressive snoring. Jaskier doesn't mind so much. They catch glimpses of intimacy, Geralt's hand on the small of his back as he guides him downstairs for another ritual, a good night kiss on the cheeks once it's done, a spot of quiet homework-doing in Kaer Morhen's common room together, their legs pressed close under the table. One of these days, Jaskier will find the courage to close the last bridge between them. He just wants to wait until Geralt seems absolutely comfortable with it.

-All is as well as can be until Vesemir comes up with an idea. Because more and more creatures have been getting through and they are unable to hold off all, he wants to capture one of them, an Archgriffin, to bind in their world and act as guardian against lesser creatures. "You're mad," Aiden says. "That's fucking brilliant." - "It's a good idea," Eskel and Coën agree. Lambert keeps exchanging grim glances with Geralt because they both know what this means. They will have to use Jaskier to lure the beast. Which is why they both protest the idea heavily and Geralt gets into a fight with Vesemir. Jaskier is not there for it, but Aiden and Lambert tell him later, once he's back from theatre rehearsal. He watches them fight over it too and then it's only him and Lambert. Jaskier steals one of Zoltan's bottles of spirits and they get stupidly drunk, wandering around campus all night until Eskel collects them and tucks them into bed at Kaer Morhen. "I will not stand to lose you," Lambert slurs, arm dragged over Jaskier's chest. "You're like, almost my best friend. Plus, Wolf would be devastated." - "Aiden seems to think it'll be fine," Jaskier says, snuggling up to Lambert. - "Yeah, fuck him." They fall asleep like that and the first thing Geralt does when he finds them is kick Lambert all the way down the stairs.

-In the end, Geralt and Lambert are outvoted, not that they can stop Vesemir. Geralt is more silent than usual throughout prep and Jaskier can't seem to cheer him up. He knows his life is likely on the line, but he wants to help so badly. These guys are his family after all. If he can make their lives a little easier by doing this... well, he wants to. He needs to. Being in Kaer Morhen is the first time he seems to have a purpose other than writing angsty teenage songs. Eskel keeps checking up on him. Vesemir writes preliminary excuses for all Jaskier's exams which leave him with only A's, something Priscilla does not appreciate in the slightest. Lambert and Aiden fight and fight and won't stop fighting over this whole affair until Jaskier sits them down and makes them talk. Geralt... remains quiet. Jaskier can tell he doesn't sleep. Can tell he rarely eats. He decides now is as good a time as ever.

-It's the night before and the others have all returned to their dorms, but Jaskier stayed in Kaer Morhen under the pretext of Zoltan having his girlfriend over, and Geralt rarely ever goes home. He has a flat off campus, but Jaskier suspects it's drab and lonely. He gets it. Kaer Morhen has soft fluffly beds and fire places and wards and books. Currently, it has the two of them, bundled up in one of the upstairs rooms. They share an armchair before a low fire, not an unusual sight for them, not anymore. And still, Geralt pretends they're just friends. It's ridiculous. "You know I'll be fine, right?" Jaskier says. He has his head tucked under Geralt's chin and has been humming show tunes under his breath for the last half hour, something that usually puts Geralt right to sleep. Not so now. "I can't know that," Geralt replies. He lifts Jaskier's hand which he's been holding and traces the veins on the back of it with his thumb. "You've no idea how dangerous the ritual is. Even more so with you being an amplifier." - "So protect me." - "I will. I promise, I will." - "Geralt, when are you going to finally give in?" Jaskier sighs and pulls back a little. Geralt stares at him, a little cross-eyed and Jaskier gives a shaky laugh. "I'm going to kiss you now. Pull back if you don't want to, but allow it and I'll never let you go." Geralt allows it, kisses back. It's the first night they indulge in a love that has been growing for almost a year and it's gloriously sweet, blazing, beautiful. It leaves Jaskier with faith that, even if things go sideways, Geralt will get them both out of it alive.

-The ritual goes well thanks to the Witchers' meticulous preparations, the dozen or so warding spells they put on Jaskier and Geralt's reflexes that save him from a swipe of the Griffin's claw. They bind the creature to one of the basement holding cells and celebrate with excessive amoutns of vodka and cake. "All is well that ends well, huh?" Jaskier asks from where he sits on Geralt's lap. Strong arms hold him and his chest is full of nightingales that flutter and sing. He watches Eskel drunkenly dance-offing with Coen in a corner, watches Lambert and Aiden make out in another. Vesemir took off, but Ciri is there, lounging next to them on the couch, nose buried in her phone. "I will never put you through such danger again," Geralt grunts, his nose buried in Jaskier's hair. "Of course, love." Jaskier relaxes into the embrace. All is well, though it is not nearly the end of this story.

-TLDR: Kaer Morhen is an occultist fraternity that keeps supernatural beings away from campus. Jaskier, unable to participate in the actual rituals due to a genetic predisposition, becomes their chronicler. Geralt worries a lot. Jaskier tries for the longest time to get him to go on a coffee date or something. Lambert and Aiden are a disaster couple. Eskel keeps them all together, literally and figuratively. Ciri is the one who got all the brain cells.

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hoebii · 4 years ago

Text

Who

Pairing : Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre : Angst, light Fluff

Warnings : Cheating, grieving, past break up

Got inspired by the song ‘Who’ if you couldn’t tell sdaxhfvgf. Thank you @taegularities and @heejinnien for beta reading this and giving me pointers to make this better <3 This is the first fic that has been proof read and edited so we don’t die like men this time. As usual, send me any promts/ideas/requests you might have and I’ll try my best to do it justice. Feedback is always appreciated! :D

~~~~~~~~~~~

Our minds have new eyes and visions of you

Girl, I think I need a minute

To figure out what is, what isn't

The phone vibrated yet again, screen lighting up to display the caller ID. Yoongi decided to ignore it, head resting on his propped up hands.

There was a storm brewing inside his mind, and he didn’t know what to do anymore.

He knew the people around him were worried, saw the concern in their eyes every time he passed by and he hated it. He hated that he let it get this far, hated how uncertain he felt.

His mind couldn’t help but go back to the past, the memories coming back to haunt him.

~~~~~~~~~~~

These choices and voices,

they're all in my head

Sometimes you make me feel crazy

Sometimes, I swear I think you hate me like uh

I need a walk, I need a walk, I need to get out of here “I’ll always love you, no matter what the world throws at us.” She spoke sternly, her hands cupping his face. At that moment he felt like he was on the top of the world, his heart skipping a beat when his eyes met hers.

“You promise?”

“I promise, my love.” A scoff escaped Yoongi’s lips at the memory. “Bullshit,” he growled, gripping his hair, trying not to scream. “Why are you doing this?” He asked, tears streaming down his face as he stood by the door helplessly.

“I can’t keep doing this, Yoongi. I’m done,” she replied, continuing to pack her bags.

“We can fix this, please.” “No we can’t! Open your eyes Yoongi, there’s no fixing this anymore.”

He felt his heart shatter with each passing second as he stood there watching her. He moved towards her, grabbing her and pulling her in an embrace. He felt her stiffen at the contact but he refused to let go, heart racing.

“Please…” he whimpered.

She sighed, melting into his embrace after a while, wrapping her hands around him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what came over me.”

“It’s fine… just, don’t do that again.”

“I promise.”

For some reason, he couldn’t feel at ease even after that.

Yoongi slammed his hand down on the table, his breathing erratic. He grabbed his jacket and phone before walking out of his studio, where he saw the other boys standing about. He knew they were here for him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment.

“Where are you going, hyung?” asked the maknae cautiously.

“For a walk, I need to clear my head.” Yoongi replied, brushing past his concerned members and out of the building.

~~~~~~~~~~~

'Cause I need to know

Who are you?

'Cause you're not the girl I fell in love with, baby

Who are you?

'Cause something has changed, you're not the same, I hate it

He rushed down the sidewalk, no destination in mind. His head was down, hood of his jacket up and his hands shoved inside his pockets.

He slowed down after some time, legs tired from walking for so long. Looking around to inspect his surroundings, Yoongi realised he had walked to the park near her house. The same park where they had their first date, the park where they came to look for peace when it all became too much. It held such precious memories, before when he looked back on those, his heart would swell with affection, body warm from happiness. But now, it did nothing except hurt him more. His heart ached as he relived the sweet memories that would always turn bitter.

“Look at those kids! They’re so cute!” She gushed, leaning against Yoongi, hands intertwined in her lap.

Yoongi chuckled as he watched the children run past them, laughter filling the air as they played around.

“I wonder how our children are gonna look? Well, then again, with parents like us they’re bound to be amazing!”

Yoongi hummed, playing with her fingers, heart picking up its pace at the thought of their possible future.

Yoongi sat on the bench overlooking the park. His eyes scanned the area, thinking about all the memories he had created here. His mind drifted off to the last time he’d been here, his heart constricting in pain.

He was waiting at the gate of the park, looking for her with flowers in her hand. His gummy smile impossible to hide, heart thrumming happily; it was their anniversary after all! He swayed back and forth, excitement barely kept under control when he thought about all the plans he’d made for them to enjoy the day.

15 minutes passed with still no sign of her. Yoongi checked his clock one more time before he called her again. Her phone rang a few times before it sent him to her voicemail yet again.

Feeling disappointment slowly take over his heart, he deflated a little.

Had she forgotten? She couldn’t have, right? Perhaps she’s stuck at work, thought Yoongi to himself. He shook his head before deciding to enter the park. Taking a walk might help, and who knows? Maybe she’ll arrive in that time too! He tried convincing himself, not wanting to lose hope just yet.

He walked by the little ice cream stand they had in the park when he thought he saw someone familiar stand near it. He squinted at the figure, their back was turned towards him. He shrugged and was about to walk away, to continue his walk through the park when the person turned around.

Yoongi’s eyes widened in shock when he saw his lover standing there, laughing with another man. He felt his heart turn to dust when he saw her lean up to kiss him.

“S-sweetheart?” Yoongi stuttered out loud, at which her head whipped around to face him, her expression akin to a deer caught in headlights, mouth falling open.

“Y-yoongi, I can explain.”

Yoongi shook his head, eyes filled with unshed tears. He dropped the flowers and ran away, paying no mind to her calls.

Yoongi leaned back on the bench, lips lifted into a bitter smile. One of his hands ran through his hair, ruffling it as he said out loud, “Should’ve realised before. Why did I ever believe you?”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh, I'm sick of waiting for love, love

Oh, I know that you're not the one, one

Feeling hypnotized by the words that you said

Don't lie to me, just get in my head

When the morning comes, you're still in my bed

But it's so, so cold

It had been days since the incident at the park and Yoongi was a mess. He had kicked her out of his house the next day, but he couldn’t keep her out of his mind.

His friends told him to move on, that she wasn’t good for him, but he couldn’t. He needed answers.

He had finally gathered up enough courage to face her again, finally answering her calls, and calling her over. He told himself he wouldn’t let himself be swayed by her, that he was only doing this to get answers, nothing more.

But there he was now, laying awake beside her, staring off into space, mind once again in chaos. This wasn’t how he wanted the night to unravel, but her sweet words lured him in, hypnotized him. He was weak when it came to her, it didn’t surprise either of them that he had given in so easily.

Her sweet lies got into his head, making his mind fuzzy, heart beating fast as if this was the first time they had been together. But now that it was over, his mind was overthinking everything. It felt cold, his heart heavy with emotions he didn’t want to deal with.

He wanted to let go and savour this night, wanted to forget how his heart ached at the mere sight of her. But he felt so, so cold, so filthy and used. No matter how much he tried to suppress those feelings, he couldn’t, so he laid there, regretting everything.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Who are you?

'Cause you're not the girl I fell in love with

Who are you?

'Cause you're not the girl I fell in love with, baby

Who are you? (Who are you?)

'Cause something has changed, you're not the same, I hate it

Oh, I'm sick of waiting for love, love

Oh, I know that you're not the one, one

Yoongi sat there, his mind running a thousand miles per second. He had his eyes closed and head leaned back, trying to keep the tears at bay.

His thoughts came to a halt when he felt someone situate themselves beside him. He cracked one eye open to look at who it was.

His heart clenched again, this time from guilt, when he saw it was his dearest maknae that had come to him.

“Did you follow me here, Jungkook-ah?”

“I was worried… I didn’t want you to do something rash,” came a timid reply from the man beside him.

Yoongi chuckled, sitting up straight. “I’m not going to do anything rash, Jungkook. Don’t worry.”

“I’m still worried though, I miss you. You haven’t spent any time with us, with me, for such a long time now. You know we’re all here for you. It might hurt but keeping it all in won’t make it better, so let us help you, hyung. Let us be there for you,” Yoongi heard Jungkook say, concern pouring from each of his words.

Yoongi hummed, processing Jungkook’s words for a while.

“You’re right.”

“I… am?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi started, looking at Jungkook, “I shouldn’t have pushed you all away. I’m sorry for being so distant.”

“..Will you come back to the dorms then? It feels so empty without you.”

Yoongi stared at Jungkook, heart feeling a tad lighter than before. “Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

Jungkook looked at Yoongi, his doe eyes sparkling. “Do you feel any better? Do you want to go get food with me? I’ll pay!”

“Not really, it still hurts, but your little speech there made me realise I don’t have to do this alone. I have you guys and I’m sure that with you all by my side I’ll feel like the old me soon enough,” Yoongi said, ruffling Junkook’s hair - Jungkook whining at him for ruining his hair -, giving him a small smile. Jungkook beamed back, happy with the answer he’d received.

“Let’s go get lamb skewers, my treat, for ignoring you for this long,” Yoongi said, standing up from the bench. Jungkook exclaimed happily and started walking towards the park exit, smiling brightly.

Yoongi was about to follow when he felt his phone buzz again. Taking it out to check, he realised it was another text from her, but this time rather than ignoring it, he opened the text thread.

He quickly typed one last message to her before blocking the contact and following Jungkook out of the park. His first step towards healing and he couldn’t help but feel proud.

‘You’ve changed, you’re not the one for me anymore. Stop trying to contact me, Y/N. We’re over for good.’

#bts x reader #angst #bts angst #bts #bts yoongi #bts fanfic #bts fic #min yoongi #suga #suga x reader #yoongi x reader #bts fluff #myg #myg angst #yoongi angst #yoongi fanfic

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years ago

Text

Let Me Linger

Three years was a long time, even by witcher standards. Lambert had spent three winters without Eskel and their hopes dwindled. Nobody had seen him or heard of him since a contract to clear out archespores. While the area wasn’t bothered by them since, the bounty hadn’t been claimed and the witcher who had taken the contract hadn’t been seen. That third winter, they burnt an empty pyre in Eskel’s memory and Lambert spent the rest of the winter as drunk as he could be, snarling at Geralt, Jaskier and Vesemir if they got too close to him or his alcohol.

In the spring, Lambert emerged from Kaer Morhen with a plan. He remembered Eskel talking about dopplers and how he’d been impersonated by one for a while. Closure wasn’t something a witcher ever got but Lambert could do his best to get the next best thing. Heading north, he put out feelers, searching for the doppler who had taken on Eskel’s appearance all those years ago. He promised safety and coin in exchange for a chat.

Luck was on his side for a change. A slim, young girl slipped onto the bench opposite him in a tavern with a coy smile.

“I hear you’ve been looking for me.” She picked up a silver dagger and bared her teeth as it burned her palm but it was proof enough.

“Then you know who I want.” The doppler nodded at Lambert’s words and let him lay out his wishes. “Meet me in the woods, there’s a clearing by a stream. All I ask for is an hour of your time and your discretion on the matter.”

The doppler named a price and Lambert accepted. There were some things he would pay anything for and another hour with Eskel was one such thing. He had two hours to set up his camp and get everything ready. Hurrying, Lambert started with the more obvious things. He pulled two large logs beside the pit he had dug for a fire. Said fire was piled up just the way Eskel liked it, surrounded by stones Lambert had found in the stream. It was one of his fanciest camps, he had to admit. There were even flowers growing around the edge of the clearing. Once all the heavy work was done, he took a quick dip in the stream and pulled his nicest, cleanest clothes on. Next, he grabbed his pack and started pulling out the supplies he had gathered. Goat’s cheese, honey, sweet bread, all of Eskel’s favourites. This was his last time with Eskel, he was going to make it special.

Eskel’s favourite tea was brewing over the fire when familiar footsteps approached. The doppler was 20 minutes early but Lambert didn’t care because he looked up and there was Eskel.

“You look like shit,” Lambert blurted out. Indeed, Eskel looked haggard, tired and filthy. There was a tear in his gambeson which also looked heavily blood stained. Deep down, Lambert hoped the doppler hadn’t come across Eskel as he was dying, that this wasn’t the last look Eskel sported.

Stopping at the edge of the clearing, Eskel looked around with a raised eyebrow. “Nice to see you too. Expecting some fancy company?”

Words dried in Lambert’s throat. He’d missed Eskel so much. The world had felt big and empty without him. Without really thinking, Lambert launched himself for a hug, clinging to Eskel tightly.

“I missed you.” The words hurt but they needed to be said. “I never got to tell you I love you. That you make all the fighting worth it.”

Hesitant hands came up and patted Lambert on the back.

“Sorry I’ve not been home recently.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Lambert’s face was still buried in the crook of Eskel’s neck, trying to commit his scent to memory. Over the last three years Lambert had forgotten too much about Eskel. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

Eventually, Lambert peeled himself away and gestured at the camp he made. “Got all your favourites.”

It was an apology he would never be able to make to the one who really mattered. But the doppler was gracious enough to sit and give a crooked smile.

“That’s not cheese from Lil Bleater, is it?”

Lambert had to remind himself it was a doppler and he only had an hour. But it was exactly like sitting down with the real Eskel and his heart was shattering. “Yeah. It’s Bleats approved cheese.”

He watched as Eskel dug in, happily humming about how much he’d dreamed of having the cheese again. For a long moment Lambert had to stare off into the distance so he wouldn’t break. Gathering himself up, he poured two cups of tea and clutched at his mug.

“I didn’t think you tended to come North,” Eskel said around a mouthful of sweet bread. “Not too cold for you?”

“I wanted to see you.” The admission was quiet and Lambert averted his gaze. A large hand landed on his knee and gave it a squeeze.

“I’m really pleased you did. I missed you too.” After a moment’s hesitation, Eskel looked bashful. “Did you mean it? That you love me?”

Caught out, Lambert had nothing left to lose. This was his last hour with Eskel, he would never have this chance again. Taking a deep breath, Lambert nodded.

“Yeah. I loved you.” It hurt to say it in the past tense. “I just wish I hadn’t been a coward and accepted what we could have had. You were my reason to get back to Kaer Morhen each year. Now, I don’t know if I’ll make it back there ever again.”

A small, confused frown drew Eskel’s brows together. He looked genuinely befuddled and Lambert wanted to smooth the wrinkles away with a thumb.

“But Lamb-” Eskel began, “-you need to. I love you and I’ll be there too.”

Which was a brazen lie. It was the one thing Lambert asked the doppler not to do; don’t make false promises.

“Yeah, and we would travel the Path together too, right?” He snapped out bitterly. The soft “if you wanted” was cut off by the sound of footsteps approaching. It was Eskel again but he looked younger, healthier and so much more like he did in his heyday.

“Lambert?” The question was gentle, a little hurt from the new Eskel and Lambert’s head whipped between the two. The one sitting down was smirking.

“Nice face. If a little outdated.”

“You!” The new Eskel hissed, face morphing into a scowl.

Before it could descend into a fight, Lambert pulled his silver sword out and stood between the two. “Enough!”

It seemed to do the trick and both Eskels backed off. Lambert pointed at the newcomer with the tip of his sword. “You’re the doppler I spoke to, right? You’re on time.” He tossed a bag of coins to him. “Sorry to have wasted your time.”

Taking the coins, the doppler huffed and turned to leave. It left Lambert with the original Eskel. Logic demanded that he push the silver sword against Eskel’s neck to determine whether he was dealing with another doppler. But it was Eskel. Worn, weathered, tired but alive.

“You’re Eskel, right?” he asked instead.

“I’m Eskel. We can walk the Path together. I love you.”

Sheathing his sword, Lambert sat back down. He didn’t need to know the truth. All Lambert needed was Eskel by his side. Silently, Lambert made a mental note to be more careful with silver in the future, not wanting to find out whether his Eskel was the one he remembered and loved. The only thing that mattered was that Eskel was by his side again and promising to stay. As far as Lambert was concerned, quashing down his own uncertainty was a small price to pay for the happiness Eskel would bring him in whatever form.

#lambskel #eskel/lambert #lambert #eskel #doppler eskel #open ended #tldr: lambert wants to say goodbye to eskel

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clevercxs · 4 years ago

Text

Believer - Sigefrid Thurgilson [Ch 2]

[MORE CHAPTERS]

Pairing: Sigefrid Thurgilson x female oc

Word Count: 6.8k

_______________________________________________

With dawn came an uneasy feeling of dread within the Saxon warrior. Her face, distorted with worry, belied her ethereal youthfulness. She seemed to have aged an entire decade in the day it took them to reach the fortress of Beamfleot.

Beads of cold sweat glistened upon her furrowed brows. Lady Blædswith found herself anxiously gnawing at the insides of her cheeks like some famished barn rodent - though it wasn’t out of hunger. She’d bitten her chapped lips until they were stained red like fresh blood upon newly fallen snow. Her fair skin was drained of all color except for the rosy hue beneath her windblown cheeks.

Dark rings had formed beneath her pale eyes causing her to look all the more ghostly. Once filled with such vigor and spirit, her irises were now dull; lifeless even, and heavy with exhaustion. Her body, bruised and broken from the trauma she’d endured, swayed achingly with the rhythm of Sigefrid’s steed beneath her. It was by the strength of Sigefrid’s arm alone that she managed to sit upright for the duration of their travels.

She was a lamb being led to the slaughter, or frankly something far worse for a woman to endure than death itself - the wrath of men.

Unlike a lamb, or cow for that matter, Lady Blædswith didn’t have the luxury of being blissfully unaware of what lied ahead.

For the first time in a long while she was completely and utterly defenseless. Above all else, she believed it to be the scariest, most unusual feeling she’d ever known.

And she hated every second of it.

A light mist began to fall from the sky awash with ominous shades of grey. The air was humid and smelled of a storm brewing in the near distance. Thick clouds of fog encompassed each horse and rider though they began to dissipate over time. An unmistakable roll of thunder rumbled through the damp earth causing the horses to feel uneasy once more.

Lady Blædswith firmly grasped handfuls of mane between her fingers and took as deep of a breath as her ribs would allow.

For the love of God, or gods, please don’t throw me off.

Barren trees shivered in the wind, their naked limbs often snapping beneath the weight of fleeing crows and squirrels alike. Eerie branches, gnarled and twisted, extended towards the band of Danes and their princess like the very hands of Skaði herself - the Pagan goddess of winter.

The shivering princess found herself retreating into the fur pelt draped over her shoulders for warmth. Sigefrid decided she’d suffered enough from the cold, though found himself growing fond of the way his grey fur looked beneath her dark, unruly curls.

Although Lady Blædswith was born and raised in Wessex, Sigefrid could see there was something different within her; something worth saving. He could sense a feral presence bound by chains that could never be tamed - not even by him.

Odin had dealt her a great hand, and she spat it back at him by defying all odds.

____________________ ➴ ____________________

The infamous fortress of Beamfleot was a rather grim sight to behold.

The surrounding field was brown with decay. Remnants of battles past lie scattered in the weeds; broken swords, cracked shields, dented helmets, and the occasional skull or two left inside said helmets.

Its cold, uninviting walls of aged wooden planks loomed high above the approaching Danes and stretched towards the gods. Stone watch towers encompassed by cages of sharpened wooden pikes protected archers keeping watch over the land; Sigefrid and Erik’s land.

Sigefrid led his fellow Danes along a narrow path and towards the main gates. “Lady Blædswith of Wessex. Welcome, to Beamfleot. Your new home... should you want it.” His dark eyes gleamed with mischief, the corners of his lips perking into a rather menacing smile.

Lady Blædswith shook her head with confusion. “I-I do not understand. I thought you intended to sell me for ransom? T-to my father?”

Sigefrid chuckled haughtily, “Oh, for a while I did.” He tightened his arm around her waist and pressed the entirety of her back against his firm chest causing her breath to hitch. “But then I grew to like your company.” She could feel every muscle in his core flex and constrict against her frame as he held her in place. Every part of her yearned to resist his warm touch yet she couldn’t bring herself to do so… and she couldn’t understand why.

“How could I join you?” Lady Blædswith scoffed and craned her neck to face the Dane whose arm encompassed her being. “I have experienced quite enough to know better.” She pressed the palm of her hand against her dried arrow wound as if recalling the incident all over again. “You must think me a fool!“ She twisted back around and purposely bumped her back into his chest.

“I do not-“ Sigefrid growled lowly.

“Then how can you possibly expect me to trust you so soon?”

Sigefrid’s nostrils flared and his lips pursed out of bitterness; his narrowed eyes seemed to burn with a newfound frustration despite the truth behind her words. “Very well.” He huffed. “Warriors join us by the day. With word of your... capture… there will be more; all waiting for war.”

“Against who?” She urged. “Mercia? Wessex? My father?” Both kingdoms, as far as she knew, had large armies of noble and courageous men… but the average Saxon warrior was no match for a Dane like Sigefrid Thurgilson. “Tell me.”

Sigefrid smiled wickedly from ear to ear and simply responded, “You have my thanks, Lady.”

As they grew nearer, a set of heavy gates were drawn open revealing the inside of Beamfleot. Lady Blædswith could hear Danes of all walks of life applauding their Lord’s fruitful return. Once through the gates and inside, Hæsten rode up beside them and nudged her boot with his own. She kicked him back, harder, causing him to curse beneath his breath.

With the sound of the gates closing behind her and locking in place, all hopes she had of escaping fell into a pit of despair; of defeat.

The two Danes proceeded to ride through the village, passing by mothers joyfully embracing their children and drunken men clinking horns of ale together.

“Lord.”

“Yes?” Sigefrid drew slowly out of exasperation. “Speak.”

“How does she feel? Warm?” Hæsten’s serpent tongue grazed over the bottom of his busted lip. His eyes dilated at the mere thought of his hands ravishing Lady Blædswith’s womanhood. He believed it to be what she deserved for not only being a Saxon, but publicly humiliating him and nearly taking his life in front of everyone.

“Rich, as she should.” Sigefrid leaned forward and firmly pressed his lips to the back of her hair, exchanging a sly grin with Hæsten before leaning back. “She is priceless.”

Lady Blædswith felt completely numb; frozen in time as the world around her faded to a blur. Danes began clawing at her legs once more and tugged at her clothes. No one knew of her identity thus far but some had their suspicions. It was clear she was of grave importance to their Lord, therefore she had a great value.

She remained stoic; her attention fixated on the large building up ahead with pits of seductive flames dancing in front of frostbitten Danes.

Hot tears streamed down her flushed cheeks yet she kept quiet; there was nothing she could say that would matter to anyone - assuming she could even get them to listen in the first place.

Lady Blædswith could feel each tear dripping from her chin and falling onto the dense fur around her neck, one she wished could shield her face from the dirty looks she received as Sigefrid paraded her around.

“I bring you King Alfred’s eldest daughter! I swear to the gods… that this prize will not be sold cheaply. There will be wealth and glory for every man here!” An uproar of cheering and laughter rang out from children of all ages, the elderly, returning warriors and even slaves who’d taken a break from their chores to gape in awe.

They hoped they would have an easier week ahead of them now that a new woman had been introduced, so they celebrated her capture without drawing too much attention to themselves.

Sigefrid marveled triumphantly at the celebration that had begun in his honor. He could hear his name being praised and chanted loud enough to be heard for miles, a sound he would never tire of.

After the crowd simmered down he was the first to dismount. His boots, upon doing so, struck the earth like the mighty hammer of Thor. He reached up and grabbed Lady Blædswith by her waist as best as he could without harming her with his hand-blade nor disrupting her broken ribs. It was a rather tedious task.

The Lord of Beamfleot decided it was worth the risk of impaling King Alfred’s daughter if it meant no other man would lie a hand on her.

By the hour he found himself increasingly selfish and greedy; hungry with lust and a burning desire of having a princess all to himself in the interim of negotiating a price for her release.

She carefully dismounted and found herself clinging to Sigefrid’s armor for support. The warmth of her hands seeped through his leather attire causing his breathing to hitch for a moment. His hand remained a constant upon her waist until she found her balance. They held each other’s gaze a moment too long before she cleared her throat. “I’m fine. You can let go, now.”

With a sigh, Sigefrid rolled his eyes and stepped back just in time for a friendlier face to arrive by his side. Whoever he was, he seemed to have missed the big announcement.

“Sigefrid? Who is this woman?”

“Erik!” Sigefrid clapped a hand to his brothers shoulder and brought him closer to see her. “This is King Alfred’s daughter.”

Erik’s lips formed an ‘o’ before he stepped even closer out of sheer curiosity.

When Lady Blædswith looked up she met a pair of gentle blue eyes underlined with kohl. He had a small, rounder face than Sigefrid decorated in thick scars and smudges of dirt. It seemed Erik had been kept rather busy in his brother’s absence. Below his button nose was a short, dirty-blonde beard bound by a single ring of silver. Similar to Sigefrid, his head was shaved at the sides and his hair was knotted into a short braid down his neck.

“How did you come across her?” Erik asked over his shoulder though quickly turned back when she answered for his brother.

“My men and I were ambushed on our way to Mercia. They were all slaughtered in cold blood and I was taken as a hostage.”

Erik’s brows furrowed as he gently caressed the side of her bruised cheek with the tops of his knuckles, retracting his hand after she winced in pain.

“She is unwell, brother. Who did this to her?”

Lady Blædswith looked around to see if anyone would try to stop her from confessing. When she looked to Sigefrid he averted his gaze and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Hæsten.” She croaked, “But Sigefrid stopped him before it was too late.” The mere mention of his name through her lips caused Sigefrid’s chest to constrict.

“Lady,” Erik took a step closer with his hands raised to show her he meant well, “I would like to see what Hæsten did to you.”

She scoffed. “You want me to undress, here, in front of everyone? In the cold?”

Erik nodded with a sigh, acknowledging the extent of his request.

“Are you mad?” She then turned to face Sigefrid. “Sigefrid you can’t let him-“

“I can, and I will. Take off your fur, Lady. Now. We want to see such a woman in all her beauty!” The eldest Thurgilson pressed firmly, asserting himself to the Saxon woman who so boldly spoke out against him.

Exhaling slowly, she allowed the fur to drape down her arms and pool at her wrists before falling to the ground. The back of her neck was scorching hot as hundreds of eyes watched her every move.

“I’d like that back.” The princess wore a long sleeved shirt beneath a leather vest tied in the back like a corset. Her chainmail armor had been torn to pieces and left in the clearing where she was ambushed.

“Now, your vest.” Sigefrid motioned with his blade.

Lady Blædswith slowly reached behind her to untie the laces of her vest but stopped halfway, wincing as pain coursed through her body. “Damn!” She hissed, “I can not.” Her hand tightly clutched her right shoulder as she cried out in pain. “I can not lift my arms high enough to do so.”

Erik’s brows furrowed with confusion. “Why is that?”

“Well,” She gulped dryly, “it would appear that I’ve been struck by a bloody arrow! So I will not be taking it off.”

“Then I will. Allow me to be of... assistance.” Hæsten cooed as he slithered past the Thurgilson brothers.

“No!” Sigefrid and Lady Blædswith shouted in unison, leaving Erik unable to determine who’d taken greater offense to Hæsten’s offer. It struck Erik that perhaps Lady Blædswith meant more to his brother than he’d let on.

“Leave us, Hæsten. Now.” Sigefrid dismissed.

Hæsten swore to himself once more and passed by Lady Blædswith, though stopped dead in his tracks after she grabbed his wrist. “You should have killed me when you had the chance.” She whispered by his ear. “One day I shall make you beg for mercy as I did. Only your Lord won’t be there to save you like he did with me.”

“Sigefrid needed you alive. He knew he couldn’t hump a corpse.” Hæsten sneered, only to be knocked off balance by her forehead slamming into his nose - causing it to break and ooze blood down his lips. Before he could raise his fist Erik grabbed him by the forearm and redirected the hostile Dane elsewhere. Hæsten brushed shoulders with the younger Thurgilson before searching for a slave to take his aggressions out on.

Lady Blædswith caught sight of Sigefrid with his bottom lip between his teeth, concealing a coy smirk of amusement as his chest shook with laughter. He ran a hand over his devilish beard before strolling towards her.

“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

The Dane shrugged. “Mmm….Maybe I did? Though Hæsten was right. I needed you alive.”

“So you could hump me, is that it?” She yanked him down to her eye level by the collar of his leather armor and narrowed her eyes. “You couldn’t handle me.” The princess hissed through gritted teeth and released him with a shove.

Sigefrid chuckled to himself after regaining his stance. “Oh? Is that right?” He’d caught onto the game she dared to play without realizing she’d awoken the beast within him. It was risky of her to challenge such a man of Sigefrid’s reputation, but she couldn’t help it. It was simply in her nature. After all, what had she to lose?

“It is. Besides, I would slit my own throat before bedding a Dane, especially you.”

Sigefrid laughed heartily, evoking Erik and the surrounding Danes to harmonize with him as they mocked the injured woman.

“I mean it. Lord or not, I don’t give a damn.”

“That is enough, Lady. Turn around.” She sighed and did as she was told, now facing Erik who passed her a subtle grin. Sigefrid began working the laces out of their knots until her vest fell open in his hands. Once it was discarded he tore the sleeve from her shirt to reveal the main source of her discomfort.

Sigefrid and Erik visibly cringed at the sight - and smell - of her wound seeing fresh air for the first time. She handled the pain better than Sigefrid expected she would, and by a long shot, her strong will to live had exceeded his expectations.

Lady Blædswith had the face of a beautiful Saxon woman... but the heart of a Dane.

“Sigefrid, if you value Hæsten’s life you will keep him away from me. I will not hesitate to defend myself against him. He still wishes me dead.”

Sigefrid narrowed his intimidating gaze into her eyes. He knew she was right; Hæsten, almost as much as himself, couldn’t keep away from the Saxon princess.

“I do not take orders from you, princess!” The dark haired Thurgilson growled. “You should be glad to still have your tongue.”

The sound of gravel crunching beneath the steady rhythm of boots caused them both to look up as Erik approached.

Heavier droplets of rain began to fall upon their heads as forbidding clouds lurked overhead causing some to retreat indoors for warmth.

“Enough, Sigefrid. We need to get her inside before she freezes to death.”

“Very well, Erik. She is coming with me.” Sigefrid roughly grasped onto the princess’s forearm.

“Wait!” Lady Blædswith shouted, tugging her arm free of Sigefrid’s calloused grip before pulling her torn shirt up and beneath her bra line for all to see. Dark, unpleasant blotches of purple and green had appeared overnight as the pain worsened. It looked - and felt - as if she had been kicked by a horse when both brothers knew the truth.

“You have broken ribs... Hæsten did this as well?” Erik frowned solemnly, receiving a nod from the princess as she covered herself up once more. Sigefrid took a rather possessive hold of her hand in his and squeezed it tightly to ensure she wouldn’t slip away.

“It will not happen again, Lady. You have my word.” The sincerity of Erik’s words was as refreshing as a cold drink on a hot summer day. However, she had to remind herself that he was no saint.

Erik Thurgilson was the lesser of two evils. Lady Blædswith couldn’t help but feel safer around him despite the fact that he was Sigefrid’s younger brother.

The princess mouthed a quiet thank you and passed the blonde Dane a frail smile before Sigefrid pulled her towards the Mead Hall.

“Sigefrid, you will not hurt her.” Erik demanded of his hot-headed brother whose mind was already made up. Lady Blædswith stumbled behind him in an attempt to keep up with his long stride to avoid being dragged through the mud.

“I will do as I please.” Sigefrid laughed with a smirk. Erik couldn’t help but shake his head in disapproval, now trailing behind to ensure no further harm came to King Alfred’s daughter.

“Try, and see what happens!” With a loud huff Lady Blædswith dug the heels of her boots into the dirt causing him to stop and face her. “Your hand won’t be the only thing missing from your body when I am through with you.” As their faces drew closer a single white cloud was formed from their sharp breaths intertwining. Suddenly she felt the pad of his thumb flicking over her bottom lip and resting upon her chin as he held her gaze.

“You have a sharp tongue, Lady.” Sigefrid snarled, his nose scrunching with vexation. She could feel the warmth of his breath upon her lips. “That will get you in trouble.”

“How fitting.” The princess muttered and swatted his hand away before he snatched it back it in his own. “That seems to be all I am good for lately.”

____________________ ➴ ____________________

A frigid breeze nipped away at her face and had crept beneath the tattered remains of her clothes, spreading across her skin as if she were trapped in the frozen realm of Nifelheim.

Her hands, tucked away in the cavities of her armpits, were painfully numb to the touch. Her pale lips had turned a bluish hue and her teeth chattered with the unsteady rhythm of her breathing. The nearest fire pit was just out of reach no matter how far she stretched her arm; it was close enough to tempt her like the Forbidden Fruit to Eve, yet remained unattainable despite her efforts.

Lady Blædswith fell heavy with exhaustion after frantically searching for a way out; a weak plank of wood, a loose nail… nothing. She had repeatedly thrown herself at the locked gate, crying out in frustration each time whilst doing more harm to herself than the filthy cage that confined her. Its rusty bars remained stationary yet they closed in on her all the same, and she couldn’t help but feel a sense of claustrophobia curdling within her.

A shroud of darkness had enveloped her broken wings, for Lady Blædswith was a flightless bird.

Occasionally she found peace by slipping into an unconscious state, only to be startled awake by ungodly booms of thunder or Danes clinking horns of ale along the metal bars. Even a brood of clucking chickens strutted past her, showing off their boundless freedom before Danish children chased them outside. Curious hounds sniffed around the princess from time to time, trying to determine whether or not she was to become their next meal, or perhaps just something to urinate on.

And by the smell of it, they chose the latter.

An overwhelming series of events had occurred in the mere day or so she’d been in the Thurgilson brothers’ possession. Evidently, the Saxon princess began to lose track of time.

How long had she been trapped here? For a few hours? Days? And how long had Sigefrid allowed his men to tease and taunt her whilst she lay curled in a ball, weeping as a small child would? Praying to her God who seemed to have turned a blind eye once and for all?

From beyond the shadowy gloom of the dimly lit hall came a tall silhouette carrying something. Lady Blædswith found herself scrambling to the furthest corner from the gate out of fear of her approacher’s intentions. When they stepped closer to the cage their face became visible beneath the chandelier hanging overhead, revealing it to be Erik Thurgilson with a fur pelt in his arms.

She had ill-heartedly anticipated it to be Hæsten returning for a helping of spiteful revenge.

“Are you ready to talk, Lady? I brought you something warm.” Erik gestured the fur towards her, receiving a frantic nod as she rose to her bare feet. Sigefrid had ushered everyone out of the hall and into the cold, barring the doors behind them. He then found himself drawn to her cage like a moth to candlelight, watching wearily as Erik retrieved a key from his pocket and opened the gate. He carefully set the fur down for Lady Blædswith before locking her in once more.

Collapsing to her knees with a gasping sigh of relief, the trembling princess wrapped the thick pelt over her body and curled into a ball, now teetering back and forth on her tailbone. Sigefrid and Erik pulled up a carved bench and made themselves comfortable for what they anticipated to take some time: interrogating the rogue daughter of King Alfred of Wessex.

“I shall t-tell you everything you wish to know,” She shivered, “b-but only if you release me from this wretched cage where I am to remain under your protection. I am not a damned chicken… This cage is rather small for a princess.” Lady Blædswith quirked a dark brow. She smirked ever so slightly and allowed her gaze to fall deep into Sigefrid’s lap, “I expected it to be… bigger.” She so crudely joked, catching both brothers by surprise at her sudden vulgarity.

Humor, of all things, seemed to keep her sane even through the worst of days.

Sigefrid’s eyes glimmered as he chuckled into the palm of his hand as he stroked the length of his sleek, raven beard.

“I like her.” Sigefrid cooed, turning to face his better half though his eyes remained glued to his Saxon prisoner.

“Perhaps too much.” Erik grinned teasingly, “Shall I leave, brother?”

Sigefrid shook his head and sighed. “No, stay.” He then directed his full attention to the princess. “I accept your terms, Lady. It is done.” He muttered, “You will be freed... And, you may be surprised how well such a cage would… suit your needs.” Sigefrid smirked devilishly at the witty Saxon, displaying teeth as sharp and frightening as knives. Her heart seemed to beat faster in a dizzying manner that her breathing could not keep up with.

How was he menacing yet alluring at the same time? How could she loathe such a man yet want nothing more than to be in his presence? To hear the low growl of his voice sent shivers down her spine in the most pleasant of ways. She craved the danger; the unpredictability of his Pagan nature. It was all so new and enticing to the Saxon woman whose recurring thoughts have been far from Holy. He was her enemy; her kidnapper. Sigefrid Thurgilson was a deviously charming Dane with an edge of mystery to his every whim. She believed if he had intended to do her harm, he would have done so already.

Her only dilemma was that she couldn’t bring herself to forgive him for Lunden… not now, anyways.

Sigefrid Thurgilson held the power to decide her fate; whether or not she lived or died — and how. He had chosen wisely thus far, and appeared to see Lady Blædswith in all her grandeur.

Erik Thurgilson spoke uncomfortably,, “I must be going-”

“No! Stay.” Lady Blædswith chirped. “I am ready to talk… But only to you, Erik. You have shown me a great kindness.” She directed at the blonde Thurgilson. “As for your brother… not so much. He is the reason I almost died at Hæsten’s hand.” She spat at him through the cage. “I will never forget that, Heathen.”

A loud stomp echoed throughout the hall as the floorboard beneath Sigefrid’s boot nearly cracked. “I am the reason you are still alive. Do not forget that.” Sigefrid leaned forward, pressing his elbow into his knees. He slowly unsheathed his hand-blade and sneered mockingly, “Christian.”

“Perhaps what my brother is trying to say is… we would greatly appreciate your... cooperation.” Erik grinned sheepishly as a low growl rumbled within his brother’s throat. “Where were you headed, Lady, with the king’s men? You said you were headed for Mercia when Sigefrid… found… you. Is this true?”

Lady Blædswith nodded with a troubled sigh. “Yes, it is true. I was headed North to visit my sister, Lady Æthelflæd. I traveled with my men; they were loyal to me, and to me only. And in return I led them to their deaths.” A light shudder rippled through her body as she fought the urge to dispel the meat they fed her earlier.

“To see the Queen of Mercia — yes. But why?” Sigefrid’s brows furrowed tightly together in uncertainty.

Lady Blædswith inhaled sharply. “I thought... we could be of use to each other. I sought her protection, and Mercia needs warriors with my skillset.” She feared she had already revealed too much, but there was no turning back now.

“You do not have King Alfred’s protection?” Erik frowned and rose to his feet, taking firm hold of a metal rod in each hand. He was unsure of what to make of her words.

Lady Blædswith chuckled and shook her head, wet strands of hair falling over her eyes, “No, no. Of course I do not. He is the one I sought protection from! For years I have drowned in my father’s politics but I have had enough!” She shouted angrily, causing both brothers to flinch ever so slightly. “I met suitor after suitor... they never stopped asking for my hand in marriage. Strange men; always foreign and often old enough to be my father…. or grandfather.” She could feel herself fighting back a sob brewing within her throat.

The Thurgilson brothers exchanged sour looks of disgust.

“I can not imagine what you have been through, Lady.” Erik soothed and leaned closer to her cage. “No father should force his daughter to wed, not even a King.”

Lady Blædswith smiled softly at Erik, though noticed the way Sigefrid had began glaring down at her. She felt almost obligated to explain herself, “I-I never loved any of my suitors — I couldn’t. I was always able to scare them away, and Alfred resented me for it. I humiliated him, time and time again, in front of numerous princes and lords… until one day he found a man most unafraid of my strong will…”

“What do you mean?” Sigefrid snapped resentfully. Erik could see a blazing pain of jealousy ignite within his brother. “Who is this man you speak of?”

“I am engaged to a Frenchman whose name I can hardly pronounce nor remember. He has…” She motioned to the top of her head, “...thinning, grey hair like a corpse! I have heard the servants’ whispers, and they say he is a cruel man. He hates women, especially women like me.” Lady Blædswith rose to her knees and crawled a few feet closer to the brothers, no longer apprehensive of their presence. “He remains in Wessex with my father but I doubt they will send scouts to find me. I may not be worth the trouble... But if they did, they will not succeed.”

“Your fiancé fears a woman so strong; so unafraid to will her own destiny.” Erik smiled and took a seat. “He sounds a cowardly prick. You deserve far better, Lady. A man who is your equal-”

“Silence your flattery, brother.” Sigefrid snapped with a harsh jab of his elbow into Erik’s arm. “Continue.”

She nodded and did as commanded,

“I told King Alfred of the rumors I heard but he did not believe me…. and God forbid I seek proof for myself - I knew better than that. The moment my own mother, Lady Aelswith, decided to support the marriage I knew there was no longer a life for me in Wessex. I no longer had allies; no loyal family left but in Mercia. One night, on a whim, I simply gathered my things and left with the few men I could gather…” She sighed heavily and allowed her shoulders to droop. “We later passed through Lunden and, well, you both know what happened next.”

The Mead Hall fell silent, only to be disturbed by the frantic pounding of fists upon the main doors and a voice asking for Lord Erik. “If you will excuse me,” He rose to his feet and slipped the key into his pocket instead of trusting it with Sigefrid; this did not go unnoticed by his brother nor the princess.

Although Lady Blædswith asked to be freed, and Sigefrid agreed to uphold her request, Erik knew she was safer behind bars where no Dane could harm her - not even Sigefrid or Hæsten.

Erik made his way through the doors and was virtually out of sight. Alone, in the wet darkness of the Mead hall sat a Saxon beauty and her beast.

“Why did you kill the man who shot me?” Lady Blædswith wasted no time in bluntly asking her most burning question. “You did not know who I was. I was but a Saxon woman, y-you’re enemy.” Crawling towards the gate, she rested the palms of her hands against a wooden plank.

“He acted on Hæsten’s orders, not mine nor Erik’s. It did not matter... whether or not I knew you were Alfred’s daughter.” Sigefrid looked up from his lap and appeared unusually calm; sympathetic, almost. “I have never seen a woman fight as you do, Lady Blædswith of Wessex. Not even a Danish shieldmaiden could compare. Sparing you... went against everything I stand for… everything!” He slammed his hand down on the bench beside him. “But you were worth saving.”

He then paused, glancing over his shoulder to ensure they were truly alone. “And I would do it again... without hesitation.” Sigefrid sighed in defeat, not wanting to accept the fact of the matter but it was true.

She was taken aback by his confession, unsure of what to say or do. Ever so carefully she reached above her head and took hold of metal bars, helping herself to her feet. The cage was barely tall enough for her to stand upright but she managed. “You still believe me to be worth saving even though I am in ruins?” She asked in disbelief and Sigefrid nodded.

She couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you for sparing my life, Lord. All day I have feared Beamfleot; you, Hæsten, Erik… and everyone else. But now I fear returning home, how foolish is that? Despite the unbearable conditions I have been kept in, here…. I would gladly choose it over the life my father has planned for me.”

With a grunt Sigefrid suddenly rose to his feet, turning away whilst repeatedly running a calloused hand over his face.

“You do not wish to sell me for ransom… do you?”

“I am… conflicted, Lady.” He turned around on the heels of his boots to face her, “As you are. I promised my men wealth and glory, but they do not see you are priceless.” Frustrated by the decision at hand, Sigefrid neared a long table set with platters of food and cups of ale, and with one big sweep of his arm sent dishes crashing to the floor with a loud yell. “Damnit!”

Now seething with sudden rage, Sigefrid abandoned the princess and strode towards the doors to find his brother, only to be stopped by her shouting, “Stop!”

As if compelled by the gods Sigefrid found himself immobilized a mere foot from the door. The princess sniffled beneath the pelt now draped over her head and wiped away tears from her cheeks. “Sigefrid you will not receive what you desire from King Alfred.” She confessed, knowingly signing her own death sentence.

She heard his loud boot steps approaching as he breathlessly snapped, “What? What do you mean, woman?”

“I mean you have the wrong daughter!” She sobbed, watching as the Dane before her grew increasingly hostile and agitated by her words. “I was never his favorite child, never! He cared for me once but my constant defiance has shamed him beyond repair. Why would a king pay a fortune for a disobedient princess whom he no longer loves? He does not value me as a skilled warrior like you do, I am simply a pawn. If and when he negotiates a price… you will not be satisfied with it.”

“Are you saying I should have killed you in the woods?”

“No! And I am grateful you did not. I thank… I thank the gods that you see some greater value in me than my own father, b-because at least I-I know I matter to someone.” The princess choked on her own tears and displayed her aching heart on her chest. “For better or for worse, I matter to you.”

“You speak often of my gods.” Sigefrid folded his arms over his chest and began walking in a circle around her cage. “Have you lost faith in your God?”

She squeezed her ocean eyes shut and nodded, fishing down the collar of her shirt for the wooden cross hung around her neck. She took it in her hand and yanked the necklace from her person. “He has ignored my prayers for longer than I can remember. He turned my own family against me… my own kingdom. I prayed to Him before I fought Hæsten… and I lost miserably.” She gently laid the broken necklace on the floor before spitting on it. “I could never bring myself to denounce Him, but I feel I may soon. Meeting you has been the ultimate test of my faith, Lord.”

Heaven lost an angel the day Princess Blædswith met Sigefrid Thurgilson.

When she opened her eyes she saw that Sigefrid had reclaimed his place on the bench, nursing his hand-blade, slowly working the buckles to relieve his discomfort.

“Who did that to you?”

Sigefrid glared up at her for daring to ask when he assumed she knew. “Your Lord, Uhtred.” Sigefrid groaned, struggling to free his stump from the gnarly contraption.

“I am… sorry he did that to you. I hope it brings you peace knowing I no longer serve Uhtred Ragnarsson.”

“Oh?” He disregarded the buckles on his hand and allowed it to rest upon his knee. “Who do you serve, Lady?”

She scoffed with a smile and leaned her back against the bars, “I serve myself, as hard as it may be to believe. All men who have tried before have failed. For a short while I was sworn to Uhtred of Bebbanburg. I fought by his side and loved every moment of it.”

“Why did you stop?”

“Well, it was not up to me. King Alfred welcomed the idea of his daughters learning to protect themselves. Growing up, Æthelflæd and I trained with the captain of my family’s guards, a man named Steapa. Unlike my sister who was married off to a pig’s ass named Æthelred-”

“-A pig’s ass!” Sigefrid shouted with amusement. “How fitting.”

“He is but a shit stain upon my boot as I have come to know. I fear no man, but he… he is no man.”

“Will you tell me about him?”

“I shall, another time.” She grinned and continued her story, “I pursued my skills in fighting, and once I was good enough Uhtred gladly took me under his wing despite my father’s wishes. Uhtred taught me that not all Danes are cruel and merciless. I am hoping that to be true of yourself and Erik. He seems a kind man.”

Sigefrid nodded in response to her compliment. “He is a good man. I would be lost without his head.”

“I have no doubt.” She teased with a mournful grin. “I wish I could say the same for my father - that he is a good man. It was not easy for Uhtred to let me go but he was ordered by King Alfred to do so. He took away everything I had; my freedom, my happiness. I lost not only my own blood, but Uhtred and his men. I was suddenly… alone.” She glanced at Sigefrid through eyes blurred with tears. “My sister is all I have left. God forbid she turns on me, too. I am not sure what I would do.”

“What are you prepared to do?” Sigefrid cocked his head to the side and attempted to decipher her words. “Are you prepared to kill your own sister? A queen?”

“Is that what you would like me to do?” She scoffed. “Would you kill Erik? Your brother? Surely not.” Lady Blædswith challenged, not able to help herself from feeling defensive over Lady Æthelflæd’s life. The entire hall fell silent except for the sound of rain falling in sheets upon the roof. Sigefrid shifted uneasily in his seat and allowed for his head to hang below his shoulders.

“I… would be lost without Erik.” He repeated quietly, craning his neck to nod at her before returning his undivided attention to the screwy buckles on his hand-blade.

Fascinated by Sigefrid’s troubling efforts the princess blurted, “May I see it? Your hand?”

Sigefrid’s face hardened with shame and distrust. “No.” He hissed and turned away from her like a stubborn child refusing his vegetable dinner. “You may not.”

She took a calming breath and knelt before the gate. “I can take it off and help soothe your pain-”

“Why would you want to help me, woman?” He continued to fumble with the buckles though frustration clouded his focus.

“Well… I’m sure Uhtred had his reasons but no man deserves that. Not a Dane, not even my father.” She rolled her eyes. “Well, maybe my father.”

Sigefrid paused with a grin, and looked up though his gaze refused to find the Saxon woman kneeling before him. “Not even a Dane holding you hostage?”

She gulped dryly and shook her head. “No, not even him.” Her eyes met his longing gaze and the world seemed to stop spinning; the heavy downpour even ceased to fall. “I will not hurt you, Sigefrid. I could not bring myself to.”

Sigefrid contemplated whether or not to expose to her his blessèd curse of an arm; his most loathsome insecurity that had only damned the eyes of his dearest brother. Would she see him as less of a man? Weak; vulnerable, even? The Lord of Chaos decided he was willing to let his guard down as she had done. Perhaps the gentle touch of a woman was all he needed. Though it may not ease his pain entirely, it would surely lift his spirits and remind him why he initially spared her life. He took great pleasure in her company, though not without dreading what was to come of her and his decisions left unmade. With a definitive nod he agreed,

“Very well.”

_______________________________________________

Author’s Note: This was more of a filler/informational chapter regarding *some* of Lady Blædswith’s background. I promise chapters 3+ will be more action packed. I hope this chapter was worth the wait! ;)

(FYI, reading all of Sigefrid’s lines in his voice makes it 10x better)

TAGS: @finantheagile @inforapound @cheapcakeripper @wildwren @metall-and-dust @onesaltyhunter @wessexcrown @destinysall @lauwrite1225 @lumxnously Feel free to ask to be added to the tag list xx

#The Last Kingdom #vikings #fanfic #sigefrid #sigefrid thurgilson #sigefrid thurgilson fanfic #tlk fanfiction #Uhtred Ragnarson #finan #finan the agile #finan tlk #bjorn bengtsson #morgana #katie mcgrath #mark rowley #uhtred #alexander dreymon #arnas fedaravicius #Sihtric

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takoyakitenchou · 3 years ago

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masquerade ch.9

If anyone at Totsuki’s 92nd scouting gala a few years ago had told Souma that he would earn three Michelin stars within three and a half years of graduation, celebrate for all of thirty minutes with his girl best friend, then be dragged by said journalist to Evanston to start prepping for his second restaurant — which had somehow magically been constructed and staffed (again, by said journalist) without him knowing — he would have laughed and passed the recruiter another champagne.

But alas, as fate would have it, he was dozing off on a stool under a recently replaced lightbulb in Origin half a block down from Northwestern U on the waterfront of Lake Michigan when his best friend/relationship counselor walked in wearing her varsity volleyball uniform. She was typing furiously on her phone, an NU pen stuck between her teeth as she expertly maneuvered through the labyrinthine setup of the dining hall.

“Your posture never ceases to amaze me,” she said through closed lips without looking up.

Souma yawned, got off the stool, and picked up the faulty lightbulb.

Marina finished her email, opened the battered Wildcats duffel bag slipping off her shoulder, dug through neatly folded gear, and spiked a wrapped something at him. “Coach’s Gateau Breton is to die for and I’m betting you haven’t eaten anything today. What the hell is the point of being a god-tier chef if you can’t even make yourself an instant ramen? Basic necessity, Souma. Food and sleep. You do zero of that shit.”

“You noticed?”

“No shit, Sherlock,” she frowned, taking the pen out of her mouth. “You haven’t been in your flat since last week. I bet you’ve been sleeping in the backroom.”

Ah, that was true.

She glanced over the hall. “At least you got all the deco done.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Souma mimicked.

She rolled her eyes. “We both have a big night ahead,” she reminded him. “I’m going to have to write a shit ton of articles.”

“I’m assuming that’s a friendly warning not to fuck up, right?”

Marina gave an exaggerated gasp. “You know me so well!” Then her expression turned serious. “Is Erina coming?”

Souma paused, the French cake half in his mouth. “Actually, I don’t know. I asked but she hasn’t texted back in a few days.”

“Don’t you have her Google calendar on your phone?”

“Oh, she made me sign out,” he said dejectedly. “Now I have nothing to do on my phone.”

Marina laughed. “Trust me, you should just call her until she picks up.”

“She’ll block me,” Souma pointed out.

“Erina might be a tsundere, but even I know that she’s soft for you, and I have yet to talk to her in person. Girl’s gotta have a limit. She can’t keep up the masquerade forever.”

Souma gestured with the Gateau Breton. “You think that’s true?”

“I know it’s true. Try it out, and if she blocks you I’ll just get you a new phone. But in the meantime, go sleep while I do finishing touches. As your official relationship counselor, I absolutely forbid you to look like a caffeine-dependent brick when the love of your life walks through those doors. AND! I said sleep, not cold storage! You’ve already checked on the fish sixty-four times today.”

It was five minutes into the debut of Origin, and Takumi Aldini figured that Yukihira Souma had never been so nervously excited in his entire life, not even when the investors had agreed to support his first enterprise with Fountainhead. He was practically a goddamn newborn lamb; it didn’t take much brainpower to guess why. Nakiri Erina had texted him earlier when they were getting the house ready for opening, letting him know that she was going to be there and threatening him with a multitude of god tongue-esque punishments should he disappoint her. That text had completely unwound Souma, and try as he might, temporary sous chef Takumi had been unfortunately incapable of getting his best friend’s shit back together until the doors were actually open.

Souma literally went to the front doors to wait for them, to hell with all the inquisitive stares directed his way, but then Erina walked in and barely spared him half a glance before she breezed cooly past him. Takumi swore he saw something shatter inside Souma.

“I read it wrong?” Souma asked as he returned to the kitchen, sounding more annoyed than confused as a hostess seated her, Alice, Hisako, Ryo, and Akira at the best table in the house.

“Yukihira…”

“Love is hard, bro.”

Takumi gave him a sympathetic shoulder pat and said, “Never said it was easy, bro.”

“Then it wouldn’t be worth it. You’re right, man, let’s do this.”

When the night was over and the journalists had had their fill of his (forced) witty banter, Souma grinned his billion-watt smile and posed for final pictures with Takumi but the only thing on his mind was that lilac-eyed blonde lingering at the front doors. As if she had any right to do so. After ignoring him the entire night, Souma wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d bolted from the place like a damn jet the second she’d finished her food.

“Night, Yukihira,” Takumi said finally. “You sure you’ll be okay talking to her?”

Souma nodded. “Yeah. Thanks for helping out. Night, Takumi.”

The Italian took his leave with a final wave, and then it was just the two in the restaurant.

Souma took his time changing out of his whites, checking storage, running through ingredient orders for the next week, hoping that by the time he had nothing else to do, she would be long gone.

But alas, it seemed the universe loved screwing around with Yukihira Souma as much as his old man did. Erina approached him as he headed past the dining hall towards the front doors.

“Sup,” he said tersely as he passed her.

“Yukihira,” she began. “You’re ignoring me?”

Souma scoffed, knowing how petty he was being but not really caring, because there was no way in hell he was letting her off so damn easily. “I’m ignoring you? You’re one to talk.” Then whatever half-assed mode of anger had been brewing in his stomach during dinner service dissipated and he gave a long sigh. “Sorry. I’m just tired. But you literally didn’t even say hi.”

“Look, I just wasn’t sure where we stood. I’m sorry about my indiscretion.”

“Yeah, I know,” Souma replied. “It’s fine. How was the food?”

Erina gave a Nakiri-esque roll of her lilac eyes. “I couldn’t tell if I was eating food or your irritation.”

“So it was good, then. The whole face of the chef type shit.”

“Don’t delude yourself.” She squinted at him carefully. “Hey, are we cool, Yukihira?”

“Of course, Nakiri. Since when are we not?”

The god tongue released a repressed sigh of relief, but Souma wasn’t done. He grabbed her by the wrist, closed the distance between them, and kissed her, a lot longer and harder than he should have (to be honest, it shouldn’t have happened at all). Erina’s lips parted for his almost immediately and she started kissing him back, running her fingers up his spine until her hand was at the nape of his neck, the other locked in place by his, but before long they realized what in fuck’s name they were doing and jerked away from each other.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking anything but. “I just wanted to make sure I remember.”

Erina replied, her cheeks flushed, “Remember what?”

“How to kiss you.”

#shokugeki no soma #shokugeki no souma #soueri #sorina #yukihira souma #nakiri erina

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johaerys-writes · 4 years ago

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Where Blood Roses Bloom

Fandom: Castlevania Pairing: Alucard/Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades

Summary:

After Trevor gets grievously injured by a night creature, he and Sypha return to Dracula's castle to seek Alucard's help. The man they find there, however, is but a shadow of the friend they left behind.

Meanwhile, in far Styria, Hector does his best to survive in the vampires' court, a lamb amidst wolves. Little do the wolves know, the lamb has fangs of its own.

Chapter 2: Friends is up! Alucard POV, and a fair bit of introspection as he tries to come to terms with Sypha and Trevor returning after being gone for so long, and what that could mean for their (once) friendship.

Read here or on AO3! Read Chapter 1

Adrian’s footsteps ring hollowly along the empty corridor. He walks without thinking, with swift and purposeful strides that take him as far away from the room where Belmont is lying already half dead, and Sypha is wringing her hands in worry.

There is a stream of light pouring in from one of the windows along the dark hallway. Motes of dust bob and dance, shimmering iridescent in the early morning sun. Adrian walks towards it, presses his palm to the smooth, cold stone of the windowsill. His hand, he notices absently, is shaking.

What on earth just happened? What is he doing? What was he thinking, opening that damned door?

After that night —that dark mark in the series of dark marks that seem to be making up his life now— he swore he would not open that door for anyone ever again, unless it was to end them, swiftly and decisively. While sharpening the stakes that would hold Sumi and Taka’s lifeless bodies, he swore that those two would be the last to ever cross the threshold of this God-forsaken place alive. That he would remain in eternal solitude, feared and reviled, a prisoner in his own home, but at least he would be left in peace.

Barely two weeks later, and not only has he let Sypha and Belmont in, he practically carried them in himself.

Sypha’s frantic banging on the door caught him unawares. He never intended to open, not even when he realised it was them, but her desperate pleas called to him in a visceral, instinctual way. When he saw her red, tired eyes, her haggard appearance; when his eyes fell on Belmont —a miserable pile of blood-stained clothes and hair matted with feverish sweat, bleeding on his doorstep — his mind froze for a moment. There were no thoughts, not really, just shock, worry, and that deep, gut-twisting fear: please don't let him die, not him, not him, too.

And all this for Belmont. Trevor fucking Belmont, who can’t go two seconds without insulting and pushing and prodding him, even when he’s one foot in the grave already.

“Mad,” Adrian whispers under his breath. He had his doubts before, but now he is sure: he is utterly, undeniably mad. He has finally lost whatever is left of his mind.

He shakes his head as he pushes himself upright. For a moment, he wonders what in the seven Hells he’s supposed to do with them, with the mess that has been thrust in his hands. Belmont’s condition is worse than he thought. The wound is deep and ugly and festering, and unlike anything he’s seen before. It’s a miracle how the man is still on his feet; if he weren’t built like a tree Adrian is sure he would have been dead long before.

His feet take him straight to the upper floors, where he had been before Sypha and Belmont showed up. The large, dusty room with the tall floor-to-ceiling windows that his mother once used as her study is the only place he seems to be able to find any sort of peace these days. He has taken to sorting through her old medical journals; a long, painstaking process, but oddly comforting. There are still piles upon piles of leather bound books, notebooks and scrolls that she never took with her to that small cottage she had taken to living in and treating the peasants from the nearby villages during the last few years of her life. Adrian remembers thinking of taking them to her even then, mere months before she was taken, but he never did. Now he’s almost relieved, in a way, that he never did; at least he still has something of hers that the humans -those vultures- never managed to burn. As poor a consolation as that may be.

He walks to the tall cabinet made of elegantly carved dark wood that stands at the far end of the room. It is where his mother kept most of the ingredients for the medicine she used to make. It takes him a moment to find what he needs: dried wormwood and red dead nettle to alleviate pain and slow the course of infection, wild radish powder for the fever, a strange-looking mushroom that, when pounded into a paste, can stop the progression of even advanced gangrene, or so his mother told him once. Adrian takes them all to the work table that hasn’t been used in years, wipes the dust off the mortar and pestle and disinfects them with alcohol, and gets to work.

There is something soothing about mechanical tasks, about using his hands, he thinks, as he grinds the ingredients into a paste. He is so used to drifting aimlessly through the cold, dark corridors, to watching the days pass in a slow, never-ending stream, that moving with such purpose and urgency now is a welcome change, even if the cause for it is anything but.

He has something to do. The almost pleasant buzz of excitement in his stomach while he waits for the brew to boil over the old stove is a surprise.

“You’re back!” Sypha says, hardly a second before he has finished knocking on their door. The dark circles under her eyes still betray her weariness, but her smile is wide and relieved when she looks up at him. The fire that’s crackling in the hearth fills the room with pleasant warmth, and Sypha’s cheeks are flushed and rosy.

Adrian opens his mouth to respond, when a strained groan from the bed cuts him short. “Was about bloody time.”

Belmont is lying on his back, exactly where Adrian left him. He looks paler than death, his cheeks gaunt and sunken, the pillow and sheets drenched in his sweat already, yet he still manages a small, smug smile when he elicits an icy frown from him. “Thought you might have lost your way.”

“Fortunately, not all of us possess your embarrassing navigation skills, Belmont,” Adrian replies smoothly as he makes his way to the bed.

Belmont laughs hoarsely, “Excuse me? I have embarrassing navigation skills?”

“Yes. How would you call getting lost in an abandoned village of approximately ten houses, and ending up ankle deep in pig shit? That wasn’t too long ago now, was it?”

The other man groans and rolls his eyes. “Christ, it was one time. And I didn’t get lost, I was looking for booze.”

Adrian lifts a brow. “In a pig pen. Really. Even for you, that's a first.”

“What fault is it of mine that the storage room was right next to the pen? And part of the wall had collapsed, as you may remember, so I couldn’t get there any other way.” Belmont narrows his blood-shot eyes. “I don’t remember you complaining any when you drank half the wine that night. After scoffing down most of that wheel of cheese I managed to bring back, of course.”

Leaning against the bedpost, Sypha lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Leave it to you two to start bickering about something that happened months ago, and everyone else has forgotten but you.” She shakes her head, but Adrian can see the small, fond smile that tugs at the corner of her lips. It startles him how much he has missed seeing it. The warmth that spreads through him at the sight startles him even more.

It feels odd to be around them. It is odd, certainly, how easy it is to slip back into that familiar rhythm, without even thinking about it. The paradox isn’t lost on him. There was a time, however brief, that he had thought of those people as friends. Or something very close to that, anyway.

What were they now? Could he afford to trust them, like he once had? Could he trust anyone?

He straightens, his amusement dying abruptly. They are both staring at him curiously, unnerved by his sudden silence. The grey light of morning that pours in through the windows highlights the sickly pallor of Belmont’s countenance, casts sharp shadows on the concerned frown that furrows Sypha’s brow.

Adrian hands Belmont the vial, then takes a step back. “Drink it now,” he says flatly, “while it’s warm. It won't be much use, after.” That should stop the man from talking for a while, he hopes. It does something strange to him, when Belmont talks. It makes him feel —almost— human.

Belmont takes the vial he is offered without a word. He tips it over his lips with trembling fingers, winces as he swallows. The medicine is quick to work. His features swiftly relax and he sinks back into the pillow.

“Ah, that’s better,” he sighs. “Sweet, blessed oblivion.” He is fast asleep in seconds.

A tense, uncomfortable silence spreads between Sypha and Adrian after Belmont is asleep. He doesn’t really know what to say to her. He’s not sure whether he wants to say anything at all. Her bright blue eyes on him make him uneasy. They always have, a little. It is like they can see right through him.

“The wound should be cleaned and dressed again,” he says matter-of-factly. “As often as possible. The less chance of infection there is, the better. I’ll bring some fresh water and bandages, you get him out of the rest of his clothes. Can you do that?”

Sypha nods sharply, and pushes her sleeves back.

By the time Adrian returns, she has managed to remove most of Belmont’s travel stained clothes without disturbing his injury. They only exchange the briefest of words as Adrian cleans the wound and applies the antiseptic he brought, then they both dress him in clean clothes. The shirt is one of Adrian’s own, and it is a touch too snug around the shoulders and Belmont's thick arms, but anything other than what he was wearing is a significant improvement.

As he stands back to let Sypha do the rest of the work, he notices the certainty and familiarity with which she handles Belmont. It hasn’t been lost on Adrian that their relationship seems to have changed and grown since they both left the castle. When she pushes a stray lock of hair behind Belmont’s ear, and gently presses a cool, damp cloth on his fevered brow, it leaves Adrian with no doubt.

They are together.

The realisation shouldn’t have made his heart tighten like this. An ugly feeling, something akin to jealousy, something that is eerily close to despair, rises in his chest. Sypha and Belmont are together. He wonders how he didn’t notice straight away. Of course he knew upon first seeing them that, during the months they’ve been away, travelling together, their bond has grown stronger than it was before they left. It was only a natural consequence of their way of life. But this…

He stares without meaning to. He watches as Sypha tends to Belmont, as she wipes the grime and sweat away from his face with so much tenderness, and he knows that she not only cares for him: she loves him. The realisation drives those twisted feelings deeper in his heart, when he wants nothing to do with them. Before he knows it, he’s already trying to imagine what it must feel like, to have someone care about him, so much, so deeply. He imagines what it must feel like, to be with something like this, to sleep next to them every night. He pictures Belmont’s arms coming around her, pulling her against his broad chest; he pictures him smiling at her, kissing her full, rosy lips.

Adrian tries to imagine what it would be like, if it were him.

It is a quick thing, effortless. He can almost see her responding to his touch, leaning into him, resting her head on his shoulder. He imagines her laughing at his jokes, gazing at him with love and adoration, like he’s something precious, something good, and his heart aches with a sort of longing he has long thought he is incapable of feeling.

He swallows thickly and drags his gaze away. What is it to him, if Sypha and Belmont are together? Nothing. Neither of them means anything to him. As she takes her time tending to him, he only wonders idly how she has managed to stay so close to the man, let alone sleep next to him. On the best of days, Belmont smells as if he’s been dipped in stale, sour beer— among other, fouler things that Adrian doesn’t want to think about.

Certainly, the man is quite handsome in a somewhat —or incredibly— rugged sort of way. Adrian can see the appeal, if dimly. That still doesn’t change the fact that Belmont is a boor and an insufferable lout and, frankly, more stupid than mud.

“There,” Sypha says quietly, laying Belmont’s head carefully back on the pillow, as if she were cradling an injured bird in her hands. “That should do it.” She wipes her palms on a clean cloth nearby and turns to him. There is something bright gleaming in her eyes. Hope. Adrian knows that look. “Did you find a cure?”

“I’m afraid it’s a bit more complicated than that.” He busies himself with cleaning his hands and pushing his shirtsleeves down so that he doesn’t have to see the hope wither on her face. “I have not seen a wound like this before. I need more time to figure out what we’re dealing with.”

“Oh.” He might not be looking at her, but he still hears the wind go out of her sails just a little. “Well. The medicine you gave him buys us time. Doesn’t it?”

“Yes, a little.”

“Good.” She nods and straightens, her jaw set in determination. “What are we waiting for, then? Let’s go.” Adrian blinks at her, and a smile tugs at the corners of her lips. “Did you think I was going to leave you to look for the cure alone? I’m going to help you.”

“That… will not be necessary,” he says, a bit too quick. “I am perfectly capable of—”

“Nonsense.” She walks to the armchair by the window and picks up her cloak. It looks worn and the hems are mud-stained, but the way she throws it over her shoulders with so much grace and purpose makes her look fierce, almost… regal.

Her large, round eyes are on him now, and the intensity of her gaze leaves him breathless. She gestures towards the door.

“Shall we? We have a lot of work ahead of us.”

He finds himself complying readily, without wanting to, and it irks him.

They don’t speak much as they walk through the empty corridors. Sypha follows him quietly- her footfalls are light, probably soundless to anyone not possessing Adrian’s heightened senses. Only the whisper of the fabric of her robes around her ankles as she walks, and the sound of her breathing. It is smooth and calm, and only a little bit heavy. It is not difficult for Adrian to tell that she is keeping herself upright through sheer will and determination. It is admirable, really, and it makes him want to reach out to her, hold her hand perhaps, but he thinks better of it.

“There we are,” he says as the wide doors of his father’s library come into view. The hinges protest loudly when he pushes them open. Adrian hasn’t walked in that place in months— no, years. He has purposefully avoided it all the time he’s been there, yet he is left with little choice now. His father’s collection of books and magical scrolls is impressive; he always had a fascination with medicine. If there is information to be found on how to treat night creature wounds it has to be here, if it is not in the Belmont library. Adrian prepares himself mentally to visit both of the places he least enjoys visiting, if he has to.

He stands at the threshold for a breath, letting his gaze sweep over the expansive room. The neatly stacked shelves, the vials and the oddly shaped instruments his father used to collect are exactly as they used to be, not one of them out of place. There was once a time when Adrian would spend the majority of his spare time there, the countless books and scrolls his only company in that castle when he was growing up. It had been a comfort for him then, yet the sight of them now just makes him feel… hollow.

It was odd, how a man as transfixed with death and blood as his father went to so much trouble to keep the art of healing alive throughout the centuries. It seems like a farce now, a joke, a twisted image of reality that has no place in that world. Yet here it is before him, staring at him, laughing in his face. It is like looking at his reflection in a broken mirror.

Sypha’s shoulder brushes his own as she takes a step forward and into the room.

“This is amazing,” she says under her breath. She spins in a small circle, gazing around her in awe. “Look at all these things! There must be something here that we could use.” She walks swiftly to one of the low tables filled with the strange apparatuses his father liked to construct. She carefully pokes a brass, bell shaped instrument with the tip of her finger. “What is this?”

“A bloodletting cupping vessel, used by Ancient Roman healers. A long, long time ago.” Adrian drifts near her, coming to stand beside her. She straightens, and as she pushes a lock of hair behind her ear, he catches a hint of peach blossoms, of jasmine. Her soap, he assumes. He takes a deep breath, trying to discern the scents. Jasmine and peach blossoms, a hint of fresh hay, and is that sweet, slightly musky smell hers?

Before he knows it, he’s taken a small, perceptible step closer to her. Yes. That scent is definitely her. Jasmine and peaches, and that faint musk that is her, sweet and sharp like fresh cream—

He stops himself abruptly, drawing back as if stung. What on earth is he doing? He clears his throat discreetly and walks away. “And this is the funnel that goes with it,” he says, feigning disinterest, nodding at another apparatus nearby. “It is to collect blood for tests.”

“Tests?” Her eyes widen and focus. It unnerves him when she does that. Whenever she looks at him like this, it makes him feel like he is the only person in the world just then. “They used to run tests, back then?”

“In a way. Some of their methods are used to this day. Well. By those that don’t believe that sprinkling goat’s blood can cure a wandering eye, or that burning dried nettles can scare away the spirits that cause gout.” He clasps his hands behind his back and looks around. “So. I believe that what we’re dealing with is a sort of hex. We would need to remove that first, before attempting to heal the wound. Any idea where we should start?”

Sypha’s enthusiasm dims only slightly. “I’m… not sure. I can use healing magic, but my inventory of spells is quite small. I could devise a new spell, I suppose… but I would need the right books for that. That could take time. Or—” she glances up at him hopefully, “—we could look for a scroll. It seems your father has quite the collection. There must be something here, some sort of spell that can remove the curse. That was what I was hoping for, in fact.”

Adrian nods, humming in thought. “A scroll would be just what we need. My command of healing magic is rudimentary at best. I doubt I could even use it, but you could certainly try.” He turns around and walks to the far end of the room, towards the bookcases that line the walls. That was where his father kept his scrolls— hundreds, perhaps thousands of them, arranged in neat stacks in alphabetical order. His father was always very particular about the correct way to store books and scrolls.

“This is as good a place as any to start,” he told her, gesturing at the shelf with the scrolls written in Adamic. If there are powerful curse lifting and healing spells to be found anywhere, that is the place.

Sypha blinks, her eyes wide and sparkling as she takes in the sheer amount of carefully rolled up papyruses. She picks one up and opens it, swiftly reading the letters on the page.

“Fascinating,” she whispers under her breath. “This is… this must be at least two centuries old. This form here,” she points at the cluster of elegant shapes written in squid’s ink, “I don’t think it’s been used since the eleventh century. At least.” She walks up to him to show him. That faint, underlying scent tickles his nostrils again; he takes a discreet step to the side.

“Yes,” Adrian says, nodding absently even as his stomach twists in knots. “It is one of the more recent ones in my father’s collection.”

“Recent?” That gaze is on him again: bright, intent, clear like a midsummer’s day sky. Her lips widen in an enthusiastic smile. “There must— oh, there must be centuries worth of wisdom hidden in those shelves! There are scrolls from the ends of the world here. I wonder how your father came by it all.”

“Sacked the towns and villages that kept them. Killed and staked those who’d written them.” He shrugs as he examines elaborate glass vials on a nearby shelf. “Or so the tales go.”

Sypha stares, then looks away."Oh. Yes, I... I suppose you're right."

A cold, awkward silence falls between them. With slow, careful movements, she places the scroll back where it belongs and drifts slowly towards the far end of the bookcase.

They don’t speak much after that.

The hours fly by swiftly, one bleeding into the next in that sunless room, as Adrian and Sypha search through the scrolls. Were it not for the large, mechanical clocks on the wall, Adrian would never know whether it was day or night outside. It was probably late evening when Sypha falls asleep, with her cheek pressed to the desk. He brings her a blanket, some tea and a piece of pie he made the previous day, and continues to work. She barely stirs. Her hears her when she wakes up a few hours later; feels her gaze on his back, but says nothing.

His eyes are dangerously close to falling shut on their own as he reads through a scroll with annoyingly small letters, when an enthusiastic cry from the far side or the room jolts him bolt upright.

“I found it!” Sypha says, walking briskly up to him. She is grinning, her cheeks flushed, “I think I’ve found it. This must be it!”

Adrian blinks the weariness away from his eyes, examining the contents of the scroll that Sypha is holding under his nose. The forms are familiar, an incantation that must be hundreds of years old. It was first written by one Yin Chunhua in a province in Northern China almost three hundred years before, and was translated in Adamic by an Arabian scholar at the end of the twelfth century. Adrian takes it from her hands carefully, brushing the tip of his finger over the dried ink.

“Are you sure?” he asks, glancing up at her. “You think this will work?”

“I think so, yes. We can try.” Her face is glowing with enthusiasm, her eyes sparkling with determination. “If it doesn’t work, we try again. And again. And again. Until Trevor is healed. I know we can do it.”

Adrian holds her gaze for a long moment, a strange warmth creeping up inside him. ‘We’, she said. Them.

“Alright,” he nods. “Let’s do it. No reason to tarry.” He starts walking towards the door, when he is stopped short by Sypha’s hand on his elbow.

He turns around. Sypha’s touch is light, careful. She looks up at him, and, once again, it seems as if everything else has faded into the background, as if there's nothing else in the world but them, gazing at each other.

“Thank you, Alucard,” she says softly. Her blue eyes are earnest and crystal clear; it's like looking at the shimmering waters of a crystalline pool. “Your help means… everything. It really does."

Adrian’s breath grows shallow. The tenderness in her voice is unmistakable. It feels so strange, being directed at him. There is something stirring within him now, stronger the more he gazes at her; something that feels dangerously like hope. Could it be that she still considers him a friend? Could it be that the bond the three of them once had, however brief, is still there? Could it be that perhaps she could… love him?

The thought withers as soon as it blossoms. How foolish, how futile it all is. Sypha and Belmont left months ago to hunt monsters, they moved on with their lives, and he stayed behind, an empty shell of a man drifting endlessly through rooms and hallways that were emptier still, consumed by grief and loneliness. It was that same loneliness that Sumi and Taka had detected, and that they had pounced on, like hounds on blood. He let them. He paid for it, dearly, and so had they. And now, one kind word of thanks from the people that left him behind and he is ready to make the same mistakes all over again.

Adrian clenches his jaw as the familiar sting of shame and anger drives through him. They are not his friends anymore; he doubts they ever truly were. It was a matter of convenience from the start that they came together, and once his father was gone, so were they. What are friends, anyway?

What are friends? He’s never had any, and he never will.

Adrian takes a step back, slipping out of her gasp. His voice is flat and icy, his features schooled to an expressionless mask when he says, “This is wasting time. Let’s go.”

He turns towards the door, leaving her staring after him. The sooner Belmont’s injury is dealt with, the sooner they will both leave.

The sooner he will be on his own again, in peace.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this chapter, I’d love to hear thoughts! :)

#castlevania #castlevania netflix #alucard #trevor belmont #sypha belnades #alucard x trevor x sypha #adrian fahrenheit tepes #trephacard #alucard/trevor belmont/sypha belnades #castlevania fanfiction #netflix castlevania #where blood roses bloom #johaerys writes

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stevenbasic · 4 years ago

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I had to get out. I had to get out I had to get out I had to get out. Sunday, early afternoon. I had just spent nearly all my weekend in bed, two nights of no sleep, jerking off to her Instagram. I had wasted my days, and I needed...to stop. I needed fresh air...

Why?!? Why was I like this?? Why was I throwing my life away?? Why was I allowing myself to sink further into this deep obsession for this girl?!? My marriage was in tatters, my practice rudderless, sinking, my mind a maelstrom. Even my body - withering. Was that because of all this, too? Because I was too weak to show some discipline, man up, and get my life and business back on track??

I needed to get out. I needed the open air and a walk. And so somehow I’d mustered the motivation to peel myself off my tainted sheets, put on some ill-fitting clothes, and step out the door of my pathetic new apartment. I walked, half-aimlessly, away from the apartment, away from the office building, away from it all. I had no plans as to where I was going to go but I’d found myself, an hour later, here. A nicely warm October day, and I’d made it into the city, into the park, rudderless down its paths but - at the very least - active. Forcing myself to keep walking, further and further and further from the little hovel I called home.

Home. Where is home? It certainly wasn’t at my house, with Sheryl. Home. What a strange concept, now. If I’m being honest with myself I’d admit I knew where home should be. Home should be in that hair. Home should be in that lap. Home should be in those tits, between those thighs. Nnnnngh I...I couldn’t get her out of my head. Those legs, the hips, the smile. Everything. Everything. That woman could be a home.

What the fuck was happening? Melissa was...someone I hired, at first seemingly just on a lark. Was that my first mistake, bringing someone who looked like that into my office, into my life? Giving her a job, more responsibility than she could handle, just for the opportunity to be close to her, to see her, day in and day out? Yes, that was a mistake, but since then...what had happened? Because of her my staff had changed, my patient numbers were down, my income plummeting. Because of her my wife had kicked me out of the house, my life was in shambles. Because of her my mind was a wreck - I couldn’t stop thinking about her, I was unfocused and weak. And, yes, I realize...it wasn’t her fault, it was mine. I was the one to blame for the state I’d found myself in that day in the park. I’d let her get too close, our relationship too intimate. I had to take responsibility for that. But in the meantime...what the fuck? Melissa had...what? Grown five inches??

I had to sit down.

It all seemed crafted, perfectly, to dominate my every waking thought, I considered anxiously, as I fell onto a park bench, legs aching from exhaustion. It was like the whole situation was being forged to capture me, crush my will, imprison me behind the bars of my own weaknesses. It seemed aggressive and...oh god, here it is again...another alert, she’s posted another one….

If I didn’t know any better I’d say her posts seemed weaponized. For all her sweetness and mirth she seemed weaponized. In fact so much else around me seemed it, too. You’d seen the poster, on the tree, I told myself, You just choose to ignore it. Just look around, the writing really is on the wall, if you really want to look. It might be subtle but...see that guy, passing by? Or that guy over there? In fact, all of them...look how they walk, slowly. Many with slumped shoulders, limp. It could merely be my brewing paranoia but they looked like something’s been taken from them. Men: they’re certainly not out here, on this warm autumn day, exercising, like the women are. As I really start to watch them, many seem lost. They’re here...passive. They’re watching the ladies running, ogling the girls sunbathing. Some seem half-witted, half-dazed, listless. The ones here with partners seem even more afflicted still, less vibrant than their wives or girlfriends, women who all seemed to carry themselves with natural purpose, confidence, strength.

Have I not noticed this before? This difference between the sexes? Was I just imagining it? No. Look at that young couple over there, spread out on a blanket under the tree. He’s laid down, head in her skirted lap. She’s reading a book to him, idly petting his head. Innocently intimate, a nice moment? Maybe, but...and perhaps I was just imagining it...things were going on under the surface, it’s like I could see it. And look what she’s reading to him…

It gave me a chill, it made me nervous. The women - they all seemed self-assured, self-possessed, self-confident. Positive and strong. And the men? They looked...just like me. Were they all becoming leashed, trapped by their own needs like I was? Life and reality slipping out of their outmatched hands, being gathered by the over-competent women around them? I shuddered, thinking of the news report I’d just heard, the latest poll results, predictions for this imminent election. If we were going out like lambs, they were coming in like lions.

Perhaps, I thought, it would be better that way.

My mind drifted back to Melissa. Perhaps I’d be better off with her. Safer.

Oh, god, no...don’t think that way, I told myself, as I abruptly forced myself off the bench again, legs groaning, and started walking. I needed...I needed to work on my marriage, somehow. My life would just get ten times worse if things fell completely apart between Sheryl and me. And there’s no guarantees Melissa would have me but...just the thought...the idea…even if I lost everything...if we lost everything...if I had...If she had...

As I began my walk again, back on some of the paths I’d strolled earlier, I felt the chill in the air, saw the sun having already grown lower in the sky.

I felt weirdly afraid and strangely...alone. I decided, immediately, that I should be getting back, and turned on my heel. Though my legs seemed to have little strength left in them, the world suddenly seemed ominous to me and I picked up my pace as best I could. I came up behind, and began to pass, a small group of fit women, roughly my age...and height.

“Jeff has been so...passive recently,” I overheard one of them saying, “We’re repainting the downstairs and he actually let me choose all the colors.”

“Paul too…” answered another, a busty brunette, as one of her friends gave me a sideways glance, “he’s been different, it’s been great. He does everything I say.” The other women clucked their approvals, acknowledgments, agreements, “In fact,” she continued, “I think I actually have him convinced to vote for Ivanka.”

“I hear that,” said another, the shortest of the group,, as the others chuckled, “Lots of men are going to be voting for women candidates, is what they’re say-”

“Can we help you??” a frosted blond asked me, sharply, abruptly turning to me, apparently aware of my eavesdropping, how I’d sidled up alongside them.

“N-n-no...sorry..” I winced, deferentially, and meekly turned off the path...

===================================================

Thanks to Pugugly and Topographic Society for their inspirations on this one

Next post up already at my Patreon.

#Growing Into the Job

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guessmonsta · 4 years ago

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In The Woods Somewhere (Fae! Akaashi x Fem! Reader) (NSFW)

Hi cuties :’) Do I even need to apologize for being inactive at this point? Lmao. I’ll never return to my peak in 2016/2017, haha. Anyway, this was a request from my friend that I realized I never posted. Oops. I hope u like it I luv yall sm!!!!

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The first time she saw him it was May. Dewdrops danced on Silver Dollars and Lamb’s-ear, and Jasmine and Lily of the Valley were braided into her hair. She spent her days in May collecting flowers and herbs for her mother, ever since spring came, her mother had been bedridden, and worrying __ mad. She knew the herbs would help substantially, but she also knew the roses and carnations would heal a different side of her mother. On her way down to the carnation field just beyond the woods that swallowed her quaint little property, she saw him. She knew who he was, rather what he was before she had the opportunity to approach him. If she hadn’t the knowledge very little would have kept her from running to him. Her mother always warned her of his kind, they were dangerous, they would rip out your womb and starve you of food- but the way his gunmetal eyes stared into hers the moment he noticed her walk past him was enough to have her in his trance. He sat inside a faerie ring, several small birds clung to his sides, and a Barn Owl perched on his arm. If it weren’t for her mother on her mind, perhaps she would have been bolder- instead, she just broke a moment of eye contact and walked right past him, choosing to ignore his existence, and he ignored hers.

The second time she saw him, she wasn’t so timid. Spore prints were her intention that day, or at least that’s what she told her mother, and while toadstools grew at random in the clearing in her backyard, she couldn’t help but be attracted to the faerie ring in which she had seen him the first time.

Much to her disappointment, the face she had stumbled across weeks ago wasn’t present. It would’ve been easier for her to acknowledge him if he was already there, but she figured she would have to take measures into her own hands. With little to no forethought, she held her breath, closed her eyes, then stepped right into the vacant ring in the clearing.

Before she even had the opportunity to open her eyes, she felt her body being vaulted backwards. She shrieked, then groaned as her back hit the ground beneath her. Upon opening her eyes, she saw him, the Fae with the beautiful eyes staring down at her. She couldn’t help but smirk at the slightest- lore always said that the Fae folk would do anything to make you miserable, but it almost seemed like this one was looking out for her. Before she could say anything to him, he disappeared just as fast as he came. She picked herself back up, sighed, then returned back home.

Then she didn’t see him for a while. While she knew it was for the best, a part of her ached for a missed opportunity. There could’ve been so much adventure at hand if only she had acknowledged him, even if it meant giving up her womb. All she could do was fantasize about what could’ve been at night before she went to bed. It was all she ever did.

Until she woke up to a pile of feathers on her windowsill. They were kept still by a small pebble from her garden, but the array was beautiful. A Blue Jay, a Crow, a Cardinal, and a Goldfinch. Accepting gifts from the Fae was strictly prohibited, yet she grabbed the feathers, and sprinted towards the faerie ring in which she had paid her visits to one too many times.

She didn’t sit inside the ring, instead, just kneeling on the outside with the feathers cradled gently in her hands.

“Hello?” She called out. If anyone caught her, she would look terribly foolish talking to herself while holding a handful of feathers. “This gift is beautiful, but my mother would tell me I cannot accept it.”

She waited a moment, then heard the soft tap of footsteps on the grass behind her. Spinning around, she saw him, in all of his glory. He really was a beautiful thing, and that’s why she reckoned she thought of him so much. There was something about his aura, and those beautiful eyes, she couldn’t help but smile when she saw him.

“Hello.”

“Are you a fool?” He replied, towering over her as he stood across her.

“Maybe.” She replied. “Or maybe I just want to be your friend.”

“That would make you a fool.” Uncharacteristic for a faerie, he sat down next to her, and handed her another feather- a Great Horned Owl.

“Thank you.” She smiled, and she immediately watched his stoic expression switch to a frown.

“You weren’t supposed to say that.”

“I wasn’t aware that this was a test.” __ shrugged, twisting the Owl feather between her fingers. “So, what do I owe you?”

The Faerie looked at her, baffled, and cocked an eyebrow. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then shut it, merely shaking his head in response.

“You wanting to involve yourself with the Fae takes the fun out of all of this, you do know that, correct?” He sighed, and __ merely giggled.

“Am I making your job difficult?”

“No, no, just interesting.”

“Well, you were the one who pushed me from the ring and brought me a gift. From my side, it feels like you’re the one who’s seeking me out.”

“Perhaps I’m looking for companionship.” __ felt her heart skip a beat as her eyes locked with his. Before she thought they were a light shade of bluish gray, but under the canopy of leaves, they looked a deep green. Maybe his eyes were magic, too.

“My name is __.” __ smiled, taking a feather and reaching it out to brush it gently against the bridge of his nose, causing him to jump back in confusion. “And yes, that is my real name. __ __. Use it at your will.”

“Are you that bored?” A slight chuckle passed the lips of the Fae as he shook his head. “Or are you that trusting?”

“Perhaps a little mix of both…” She trailed off, searching for the name of the Fae across from her. He blinked at her slowly, the mechanics of his mind working out whether or not he could trust her with his own name or not. She smiled softly as she watched his thought process, fiddling with the feather in her hands as she did.

“My name is Akaashi Keiji.” He smiled softly. “You may call me Keiji.”

“Keiji.” The name felt like honey butter against her lips and she smiled, bidding him farewell using his lovely name, Keiji, and skipping back to her house.

The friendship that blossomed between the two was unusual, yet __ had somehow managed to keep it a secret from her mother. It wasn’t difficult to sneak around, especially since her poor mother had been bedridden for quite some time. It had gotten to the point where it was worrying, her rendezvous with her companion cut short, and missed as the weeks progressed. Keiji still left small gifts on her windowsill, almost as a beacon for her to visit him, yet she felt overwhelming guilt at the thought of her leaving her poor mother alone in a terrible time. Between praying to every deity for her mother's safety, and attempts to nurse her mother back to health, she found it hard to think about anything else besides her mother, even if the word “Keiji” found itself tumbling off her lips at random times throughout the day.

Then, as his name fell from her lips once as she brewed her mother a chamomile tea, she realized her situation. Keiji, he was a Faerie, he could heal her mother. The adrenaline of this realization ran through her body like lightning, and as soon as she handed her mother her tea and gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead, she left through the front door and sprinted through the woods.

Keiji must have felt her energy, because as soon as she stumbled towards the ring, he was already there. She looked like a decent mess, the hem of her skirt and her knees covered in grass stains from tripping over herself. Keiji looked at her in surprise and what he could only describe as his form of excitement.

“Oh, Keiji, Keiji.” She gasped, attempting to catch her breath. “Can you please help me?”

“You’re aware everything comes at a cost, correct?” He muttered, offering her a seat next to him on the grass. She sat down quickly, then grabbed his hands in hers, causing him to flinch at the slightest.

“Keiji, please, my mother…” __ still struggled to catch her breath, a mix between sprinting and her adrenaline. “My mother has been gravely ill for quite awhile and I’m afraid she isn’t going to make it much longer.”

“And you would like me to…”

“Please make her better. I will do absolutely anything in return.”

“Ah, health.” Keiji sighed deeply and cocked his head. “It isn’t impossible for me. When your mother wakes up tomorrow morning, she will be in perfect health. Memories of her illness will be faded and distant and she will be up and active just as she was before she was ill.”

“Are you serious?” __ responded, almost giddy, a smile cracking on her face.

“Yes. It’s very possible. However, you are aware that there is a heavy price to pay.”

“God, Keiji, I gave you my name when we first met, I don’t care about prices.”

“Well, this one might be different for you.” He blinked slowly, catching __’s gaze. “In return for your mothers health, your mortality belongs to me.”

“Woah.” __ inhaled sharply, then exhaled deeply. “So, does that mean that I have to die, you own me until I die or-”

“It means you’ll have to live in limbo between your realm and mine for the rest of my eternity.”

“Immortality doesn’t seem so bad.”

“You might eat your words.”

“Do I still get to see my mother?”

“Yes, until you gradually outlive her then-”

“Well I would’ve outlived her eventually.”

“You’re insatiable, woman.” Keiji sighed, rubbing his temples. “Is there seriously nothing wrong with giving away your precious human life to a Fae?”

“Not when it’s you, Keiji.”

__ watched his eyes roll into the back of his head, then watched his chest rise and fall heavily. Soft hands fell onto hers, and her eyes met his.

“You’re completely and utterly confident in your decision?” Keiji asked once more, almost insecure about their transaction.

“Yes, Keiji. My mother means everything to me.” __ nodded.

“Enough to give yourself away to me?”

“Well-” __ paused, giving his gentle hands a squeeze, “This is just a win win situation for me.”

She watched as Keiji’s frown twisted into a silhouette of a smile, and his hands crept up her arms, up to her shoulders, and he pushed her gently back against the soft grass beneath them.

“In all my years I’ve never met somebody quite as insane as you, my dear __ __.”

“And yet here we are. I’m the one you chose to give my mortality up to you.”

“Yes I did.”

Keiji leaned down and ever so gently kissed the tip of her nose, her cupid's bow, then her lips. __ all but eagerly kissed back, the softness of his lips something completely foreign to her. A shiver of excitement ran up her spine as she kissed him back, her hands running up his back to bury themselves in a mess of wavy black hair.

“You’re so enticing.” Keiji muttered against her lips. “I was waiting for this.”

“You didn’t have to wait for me to come crying over my mother to have me.” __ giggled. “You’ve had me all along.”

A guttural groan came from the back of Keiji’s through as he kissed her again, deeper and rougher than the first time.

“A human has never made me feel this way before.”

“And I take that as an honor.”

__ buried her nose in the crook of Keiji’s neck, kissing his collarbone then ever so gently nipping her teeth against his copper flesh. She felt him sigh against her cheek as she kissed his collarbone rougher, then trailing a mix of gentle and bruising kisses up the column of his neck.

“If I’m going to be yours forever…” __ cradled Keiji’s face in her hands as she kissed him on the lips once again, “You’re going to have to show me how worth it it’ll be.”

Keiji wasted no time in crashing his lips into hers, kissing her so gently, so feverishly it brought chills up her spine. Her arms snaked around his neck again, kissing him deeper, deeper, feeling every pulse in her body beat for him. Heaven knows she’s wanted this, it was even more enticing now that it was magically bound. She felt his cold hands run under the hem of her dress, and wordlessly she let him slip it off of her body and over her head- she wanted to be exposed for him. It was silly, foolish, throwing herself at a man like this, it was something completely foreign to her, yet lit a spark inside of her core the more she thought about it. The embarrassment and inevitable realization was sure to come later, but in the meantime, as Keiji began to place cold, gentle kisses below her navel, the only thing she could focus on was him. His fingers danced over the sculpt of her hip bones, and eventually, the softness of her inner thighs.

“Dare I ask for your consent?” He muttered, leaving __ giggling.

“After I sell my soul to you?”

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to be respectful.” Keiji hummed, his hands running up her body again and leaving goosebumps in their wake. __ sat in silence, unaware of what his next move would be. Her heart was in her throat as Keiji got closer and closer in between her legs, and he could tell. When he reached the seam of her bloomers he chuckled deeply, and placed a deep, open mouth kiss against the fabric. She all but jumped, the feeling wasn’t foreign ate her own hand, but being caught engaging in these activities with the boys in her village was taboo, and she was far from being experienced. She wondered if Keiji wordlessly knew, or assumed she knew what she was doing. Nevertheless, Keiji gently slipped her bloomers off of shaking legs, and wasn’t late to rubbing at her slit.

“Oh!” She jumped, completely surprised. She hadn’t anticipated him finding her sweet spot so quick, let alone touching her at all. Keiji paused for a minute to unbutton his thin shirt, and she propped herself up on her elbows to watch him. His skin was the most beautiful shade of tan, she noticed, her eyes running up and down his torso and noticing the veins that webbed around his sculpted arms. Next were his trousers, he was expressionless as he did this, and it would’ve been frightening if she hadn’t previously learned that he majored in stoicism. When his member popped out of his boxers, she let out a tiny exhale. It seemed perfect, pretty even, and definitely wasn’t lacking. She moved to throw her bra off of her, she found no shame now in being completely exposed to him. Their bond was eternal from here. And as if it were on instinct, she opened her legs more for him, which was greeted with more rubbing against her clit.

“Oh god, Keiji.” She threw her head back and whimpered. Her eyes blurred for a moment as she focused on the full moon above her, and all the stars that danced around it. She found it harder and harder to keep herself propped up on her elbows, her high chasing her the more he moved against her.

Her arms collapsed underneath her, and the moment her back hit the grass, the first heavy wave of her orgasm hit her, a deep and heavy sigh escaping her as it did. His name was all she could moan as she rode out her high, strangled breaths leaving her mouth afterwards. It hit her like a train, the pure and unholy satisfaction of pleasure wasn’t foriegn to her, but in this circumstance, it left her dripping onto the grass below them. This didn’t go unnoticed by him, he ran one finger up her slit, which caused her to jolt from her after high sensitivity. Keiji merely smirked, leaning over her body to catch her lips in a kiss once again.

“Kei-” She stammered against his lips, trying to prop herself back up on her arms to look up at the gorgeous Fae who she was enamored with. “Keiji.”

“Yes, my dear?”

“Oh god, Keiji, fuck me.”

There was a foreign thrill of being exposed in nature the way her and Keiji were at the moment. She could feel her heartbeat all throughout her body as Keiji positioned himself above her, his lips on her chest as he got a feel for her body. An owl hooted off in the distance, crickets chirped and other gentle sounds of nature were all that she could hear besides Keiji’s gentle breaths. In one slow, fluid movement, he slid himself inside of her to the hilt. She almost felt paralized, nothing else dared cross her mind besides Keiji. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she kissed him. The numb pain was worth it, anything was worth being close to him.

“You’re doing so well.” His voice was still so monotonous, it spawned butterflies in her stomach. She opened her mouth to speak again, but at that moment Keiji pulled out and slammed into her again, only ammitting a small, gentle squeak from her. Keiji began to rut into her at an even pace, leaving her wordless and tingling on the earth below. She let out another pathetic moan, wishing she could do more for him from her submissive position.

“You’re so fucking-” She stopped to sigh, then grabbed at the roots of the grass underneath her. “You’re so fucking etheral, Keiji.”

Keiji chuckled in response, his thrusts getting deeper and deeper the more he moved. The feeling of being exposed to him and mother nature sent chills across her bare body. She wished she could do more for him, make him feel better too, but her had her locked in this pathetic position, all she could do was spread her legs further apart and let him fuck her senselessly.

And he did. The soft pants that came from his parted lips made her feel even more full than before, and the more she thought about the way he stretched her, the wetter she felt herself become. This didn’t go unnoticed by Keiji at all, him making a comment on how she was such a good girl. Her senses were clouded by chills and sex and butterflies in her stomach.

“You’re doing so good.” Keiji hummed, yet his monotonous voice sounded a little more strangled. “I’m gonna come.”

“Come inside me.” She muttered, not even thinking. “I’m yours.”

Moments later, with a gentle groan, his thrusts came to a halt, and spilled himself inside of her. She felt fuller, fuller than before, and warm. She sighed softly, holding him against her with his cock buried deep inside of her still.

“Am I worth it for forever?” She asked, her fingers running through his hair as she kissed his forehead gently. “Do you really want me forever?”

“Yes.” Keiji hummed, kissing her back. “And I wish you found me sooner.”

#akaashi keiji #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu!!#anime #haikyuu scenarios #fairytale #fae #magic #cottagecore #forestcore

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emospritelet · 5 years ago

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Twisted Fate - chapter 19

Belle and Gold have The Talk. Time for some much-needed clearing of the air, and for Gold to pull up his big boy pants and tell her how he feels.

Prompt me from this list or this list :)

[AO3]

Belle slept better than she had since before the accident, waking only to go to the bathroom. By the time she was dressed, she could smell coffee brewing, and she wandered through to the kitchen to find Gold preparing breakfast, his silk robe open and the ends of the belt brushing against his legs as he walked from the fridge to the counter. Sunlight was shining through the windows, the radio playing a pleasant classical tune, and he smiled at her, a carton of milk in one hand. He was looking very good, and she wondered if he had slept as well as she. Perhaps opening up was giving him some peace. She hoped so.

“Morning,” he said. “You’re looking well. The bruises are starting to fade.”

“No, they’re not,” she said flatly. “I still look as though I lost a fight with a monster truck. But I did sleep well.”

“Good. Take a seat, I’ll make you some breakfast.”

“What are we having?”

Gold shrugged. “Pancakes?”

“Perfect.”

Belle took a seat at the table, reaching for the teapot and pouring herself a cup while he began making the pancake batter. She added milk to her cup and stirred, closing her eyes and listening to Gold whisk the batter. The spring sun was warm against her skin, and she stretched and yawned, enjoying the feel of it and thinking ahead to the summer months, when they would have a baby to care for and take on walks in the park. The thought made her smile.

“I - ah - I was wondering if you’d spoken to your father recently,” said Gold, and Belle frowned, opening her eyes.

“Not since he pretty much cut me off, no,” she said. “Why? Did you see him while you were in Storybrooke?”

“No.” He glanced at her over his shoulder, still whisking. “Not to speak to, anyway. I saw him outside the shop as I drove past, that’s all. It made me wonder if he knew you had been injured.”

“No.” She hunched her shoulders a little, picking up her cup. “He’s made it pretty clear he doesn’t want to speak to me.”

“You think he’s still as angry as he was?”

Belle sat back in her chair with a sigh.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe not. Maybe he’s just too proud to pick up the damn phone.”

“Does he know you live here now?”

“No.” Belle sipped at her tea. “I didn’t give him the address yet. Maybe I should. The baby will be here soon, and - and maybe he’ll pull his head out of his arse and get involved in his grandchild’s life.”

“Maybe so.”

Gold carried the bowl of pancake batter to the fridge and put it inside.

“We’ll give it half an hour to rest,” he said. “Unless you’re starving.”

Belle sighed, putting down her cup.

“Weirdly enough, talking about my father just stole my appetite.”

“In which case, I’ll be sure not to mention him again,” he said lightly, and she smiled.

“No, you’re right, I do need to talk to him. I don’t want my first conversation with him to be in the delivery room.”

“Well, there’s still time,” he said diplomatically, reaching for the coffee pot and pouring himself a cup. “I can always deliver a message the next time I’m in Storybrooke.”

“I think that would go down even less well than me approaching him,” she said dryly, and Gold pulled a face.

“Perhaps you’re right.”

He took a sip of his coffee, licking his lips as he set down the cup. Beneath the silk robe he wore a smooth grey T-shirt that clung to his chest, and she could see the points of his nipples pushing against it. It made her remember how it felt to run her tongue over his skin, how he tasted, how he felt inside her. Sunlight was catching on the hair at his temples, silver strands glinting. She wanted to reach out and run her fingers through it, and caught herself, burying her face in her tea cup. Not the time, Belle, for crying out loud.

“Did you have any plans for today?”

His voice made her start, and she looked up, feeling a blush rise in her cheeks as she tried to shove away her inappropriate thoughts.

“Oh, just stumbling around the apartment, having you wait on me hand and foot, maybe a little light reading...” she said, with a wry smile. “You know, the usual.”

Gold grinned.

“I thought I’d do laundry,” he said. “And later I might do some baking. So, if there’s anything specific you want, let me know.”

“You’re a pretty good roommate, you know.”

His grin widened.

“Well, it’s been a long time since I had to care for someone,” he said. “I’m actually enjoying it.”

“You’re good at it,” she said. “I think you’ll be great with the baby, when it comes.”

“I’ll certainly try my best.”

“Three a.m. feeds and cleaning up puke and poop?”

“It’ll be worth it.”

“Trips to the playground and Any Given Sundae and getting your suit covered in mud and ice cream?”

He shrugged.

“Storybrooke’s dry cleaners will appreciate the extra custom.”

“The fearsome Mr Gold, out in public doting on his child,” she teased. “Your reputation will be ruined.”

“Maybe I don’t mind too much.”

He looked highly amused, his eyes sparkling, and she wanted to lean over and kiss him. It was painful to remember that they were not together, and that he was only there to help out because of her broken arm. She could feel her smile slip a little, and so she reached for her tea to hide her face. Gold sat back, picking up his coffee again.

“So,” he said. “Baking, as I promised. Any requests?”

“Can you make chocolate cake?”

He bowed his head a little.

“Consider it done.”

He did make a cake, filling the apartment with the scent of rich, dark chocolate that made Belle lift her nose and sniff the air whenever she entered the kitchen. He covered it with chocolate ganache, spread thick with a palette knife and pulled into soft, glistening peaks, and Belle licked her lips each time she passed the cake on its plate. Her appetite had well and truly returned since Gold had moved in, and she ate every scrap of the dinner he prepared (lamb cutlets with potatoes and a sauce made with red wine and rosemary). A thick slice of the chocolate cake followed, and Belle drew a finger through the ganache frosting, putting it in her mouth and letting out a low moan of appreciation. Gold grinned from across the table, a piece of cake balanced very properly on his fork.

“God, that’s obscenely good,” she said thickly, and sucked off the last traces of chocolate. “Pretty sure it has to be illegal.”

“Perhaps it’s the way you’re eating it,” he suggested, and Belle chuckled.

“Well, okay, if you want me to be polite and use cutlery like a loser…”

His grin widened, and he popped the cake into his mouth. He pursed his lips, nodding as he chewed.

“Okay, that is pretty good,” he said. “Not that I want to blow my own trumpet.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll blow it for you,” she said, and almost choked as she realised what she had said, a blush rising in her cheeks. Gold inclined his head.

“Well well,” he remarked, cutting off another piece of cake with the edge of the fork. “This conversation has gone straight into the gutter.”

“I blame you for making sexually-arousing cake.”

“The secret ingredient is your dirty mind, it seems to me.”

She giggled, and he speared the piece of cake with his fork, popping it into his mouth and grinning at her. He reached for his glass of wine, taking a sip, and there was silence as they ate. Belle popped the last piece into her mouth with a contented noise, and Gold put his fork down and reached for his wine.

“I had another call from my lawyer while I was on the way back from Storybrooke,” he said, and Belle glanced up, suddenly wary.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” He took a drink, watching her. “She wanted to know when we’re likely to be coming in to discuss the paperwork.”

“Oh.” Belle dropped her eyes, one finger pushing crumbs around on her plate. “Well. I don’t know. Not yet, I guess.”

“We held off on going because of your accident,” he reminded her.

“Yeah, I know.”

“But you seem well enough to at least leave the apartment now.”

“Did you miss the part when I said I was covered in bruises.”

“Does that prevent you from leaving the apartment?” he asked.

“I suppose not,” she said cautiously. “I was thinking of going into college. I’ve decided I’m going to stop studying once I’ve finished the paper I’m working on, but I’d like to talk to Professor South when I drop it off, let her know I won’t be back until - well, until I’m back.”

“When did you want to go?”

“I don’t know - Monday?”

Gold took another sip of his wine, setting down the glass and licking his lips.

“I could take you on Monday morning, if you like,” he said. “Perhaps a walk in the park to get some air, have a little lunch…”

“That would be nice.”

“And then we can go to my lawyer’s office before your usual hospital appointment,” he added. “Did you speak to your own lawyer yet?”

Belle sat back with a sigh, her good mood evaporating.

“No.”

There was a moment of silence. Gold held her gaze with a flat stare that made her want to squirm. The fingers of his right hand curled inwards, as though he wanted to drum them irritably, but he seemed to catch himself and spread them out on the table top, poised on their tips.

“We’ve been talking about this for weeks now,” he said patiently.

“I know.”

“I can give you the names of some excellent firms, if you don’t know who to approach,” he went on. ”I realise that you broke your arm, but that shouldn’t stop you speaking to a lawyer.”

“I know.”

“You really ought to get some advice on this.”

“Alex, I know!”

“I’m only saying this for your own good, Belle, and I don’t understand why you’re fighting it.”

“I’m not!”

The lie tasted bitter on her tongue, and she pushed up from the table and stomped from the room, irritation making her heart thump and her skin tingle. Damn the man! I’m gonna have tell him, I can’t stand this!

She could hear the scrape of chair legs in the kitchen, and she tightened her jaw, waiting for Gold to join her. He looked puzzled and wary, and she threw up a hand before he could say anything.

“I haven’t looked into getting legal advice on our bloody child support arrangements because I don’t want to think about it,” she said flatly. “There. I said it.”

“Okay.” Gold’s forehead creased. “But - you do realise we need to come to an arrangement, yes? I’m happy for your lawyer and mine to discuss the terms but I want everything agreed before the baby is born: signed, witnessed - everything. I won’t leave this up to chance, Belle, you know that.”

“I know!” She began pacing. “I know that. I get it. I get that you’re terrified I’m gonna run off into the night with our baby and that you’ll never see it again, I understand. But every time I try to read through that - that thing you’ve drawn up with your lawyers I feel sick!”

He was silent, still watching her with that wary look in his eyes, and it made her want to scream!

“When I think about those papers and this agreement we’re supposed to come to, it’s like my whole life is laid out in front of me and it makes me want to cry, don’t you get that?”

She was rambling, sentences falling over one another, but it was as though she had opened the door to her inner turmoil, and she couldn’t have stopped if she had tried.

“All this time I’ve been in love with you, and I’ve been scared and - and angry, and pregnant and alone and telling myself you were a bastard who didn’t care about anyone or anything,” she said, the words tumbling from her mouth, “and - and then you come back into my life and you want this baby and I know you’ll love it so, so much, and all I can see is what our lives could have been like if you loved me, and it kills me!”

He was staring at her, and the wariness had gone from his eyes, replaced by something that she couldn’t interpret. It was almost a look of pain.

“I know you’re only here temporarily,” she said, “and that once I’m well and the baby’s born and we’re settled, then you’ll move out and you’ll go back to your life and I’ll have mine, and - and we’ll just be another couple who didn’t make it and who have to see each other because of the child they created.”

His jaw had tightened, but whether through pain or anger or something else she didn’t know.

“And so we continue,” she went on, gesturing between the two of them. “We carry on with this - this forced politeness and stepping around each other and meeting twice a week to do the handover of our child and alternating Christmases and birthdays so that every other year feels strange and empty, and ten years down the line I wake up one day and realise that I’m still not over you and I probably never will be and you don’t feel anything for me and I die a little more inside, and—”

“I do.”

The words, spoken so quietly she barely heard them, cut across her rant, and Belle swallowed the rest of her sentence as she stared at him. Gold wasn’t quite looking at her, his eyes darting to hers before flicking away again, as though he was ashamed.

“What?” she snapped.

“I - I feel,” he said hesitantly. “You say I don’t feel anything for you, and that’s not true, Belle. It never has been.”

“Oh, well yeah...” She flicked her hair out of her eyes. “I know you definitely felt something. Let me try to remember how you let me know you were interested in me in the first place. Something about taking me to bed and fucking me hard?”

He closed his eyes.

“I - I realise that wasn’t perhaps the most—”

“And then later, when you were done with everything we had, when you wanted me gone, when you broke my bloody heart, you said—”

“I know!” he said sharply, looking up again, his eyes flashing. “I know what I fucking said, alright? Those words have bloody haunted me! They’ve played over and over in my head ever since.”

“Well, join the bloody club!” she snapped. “Do you have any idea how many times I cried alone thinking about that night? Especially after I found out I was pregnant?”

“I’m sorry.” He seemed anguished, that almost helpless look in his eyes again. “Truly, Belle. I am so, so sorry!”

“Then why did you do it?” she demanded. “Why? If you regret it so much, if - if it’s haunted you so much, why the hell did you do it?”

He was silent, his mouth working a little, as though his throat was jammed with words he couldn’t speak, and she shook her head and began pacing back and forth. Hadn’t meant to have this out now, but screw it! I need to talk about it. We need to talk about it.

“So I've worked out that you had started to feel something for me," she said. "Not much, clearly. Not enough to let me down gently, but something. Was that why you pushed me away?"

Nothing. Silence. She could feel her anger growing.

"Did you even mean those terrible things you said to me?” she asked. “Did you mean any of it?”

His mouth twisted a little, his eyes wide and pleading, as though he would cry, and he shook his head.

“No,” he said softly. “No, I didn’t mean any of it. None of it. I - I wanted to push you away, I admit that, but everything I said was a lie.”

His admission was like a blow to the heart, a sharp stab between her ribs, piercing her soul, and Belle put a hand to her mouth, a sob bursting from her as she turned away. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she blinked rapidly, not wanting to let them fall and open the floodgates.

“How could you do that to me?” she whimpered, her voice tiny, broken. “If you cared for me even the tiniest bit, how could you do that? Do you know how much you hurt me? The things you said…”

“I lied,” he said desperately. “I stood there and I lied to you, Belle. I thought of the worst things I could possibly say to you, and - and I said them. But none of it was true, not - not one word. I - I know you can’t forgive me, and - and God knows I don’t deserve it, but—”

“Forgive you?”

Her grief was a lake, a river, a raging torrent, and she hated that he would see her break all over again. She turned back to face him, trying to summon her anger, and the illusion of strength that rage could give her.

“I loved you!” she said, her voice shaking. “I told you I loved you! And - and you took that and twisted it and turned it against me! You made everything I felt seem like - like garbage, like nothing! You went out of your way to say the most hurtful, most damaging things you could, and now you turn around and tell me it was all bullshit, that everything you said to me was a lie? You want me to forgive that?”

“I’m sorry!” His lower lip trembled, his expression desperate. “I was wrong, I know that. It was a terrible thing to do, and I’m so, so sorry!”

“But why?” she pleaded. “Why did you do it? Why - destroy - everything between us?”

“Because I was afraid.”

It was barely a whisper, and for some reason it made her angrier than if he had shouted.

“You were afraid?” She stared at him incredulously. “Yeah, big surprise! I bloody well called it! You were afraid of someone getting close to you! You’re still afraid!”

“Yes.”

His admission, short and blunt, his voice calm, stopped her in her tracks, and for a moment she simply stared at him.

“You’re right,” he said. “I’m a coward. I’ve always been afraid, Belle. I still am.”

“Of what?” She glared at him. “Of me? What do I do that’s so terrifying?"

He opened and closed his mouth, glancing around as though someone would come to his rescue and speak the words that seemed to elude him.

“It - it wasn’t supposed to happen!” he said eventually. “You were leaving, you were going. I was ready for you to go, I wanted you to go, and - and then you told me that maybe you’d stay.”

“So?” she snapped. “Would that have been so terrible, seeing each other? Being together?”

“I didn’t want that for you!”

Belle put her hands on her hips, feeling her jaw tighten.

“So you thought ripping my heart out was somehow better?”

“No!”

He growled something under his breath, beginning to pace just as she had, back and forth, his mouth working.

“I couldn’t give you what you needed,” he said. “I knew that. And - and you would have seen that in time. You would have seen what I am, and I couldn’t bear it. Better to end it before it started. Better for you to go, to live your own life, to be happy.”

“I was happy!” she insisted. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“But I had nothing more to give you!” he insisted, tapping against his chest, fingers splayed against his shirt. “Inside, there’s - there’s nothing! Just a - a void! You wouldn’t be happy with that. Not long term.”

“So you thought you’d force the issue?” she returned. “You thought you’d make my choices for me, because God knows I can’t be trusted to do it for myself. Stupid little girl who doesn’t know what’s best for her, is that it?”

“I’ve never thought that—”

“But you didn’t trust me to decide for myself!”

“I just wanted—” He cut off with a frustrated exhalation, running a hand over his face. “You deserve more than I can give you, that’s all. I’m - I’m nothing! I can offer you nothing!”

“I don’t believe you!” she blurted. “I know there’s love in you, I’ve seen it! I saw the look on your face when you felt our baby kick, and - and the pain in your eyes when you talked about your son! You tell me you don’t feel anything? You’re lying to yourself!”

“I just—” He lifted a hand, let it fall against his leg with a dull smack, a helpless expression on his face. “I can’t give you what you need.”

“So your answer is not to even bloody try?”

She turned away again, furious with him. Tears were brimming in her eyes, welling up and spilling over. Anger, frustration, and grief, swirling inside her, boiling and seething. She had read something once about tears having a different structure depending on their cause, and wondered what her own would look like. As jagged and broken as she felt, perhaps.

“Belle, please…”

His voice was soft, a low, regretful whisper, and she turned back to face him, her mouth twisting.

“We could have been together!” she wept. “If you’d just opened up to me! Just once! There was no need for any of this! Months of pain, of - of misery! For both of us! Do you have any idea what you’ve done? How are we supposed to come back from that?”

Gold shook his head, looking stricken, his lower lip trembling. He reached out hesitantly, his hand touching hers, and she snatched it away.

“Don’t!” she snapped. “Just - just leave me alone!”

She turned her back on him, stomping away to her bedroom and slamming the door behind her. She’d wanted honesty from him. He’d answered her questions. But God, did it have to hurt so much?

Gold let her go, wincing as she slammed the door. He waited in silence for several minutes, half-expecting her to come out and yell at him again, but she didn’t. Feeling battered and weary, he turned back to the kitchen to clean up, his body aching and leaden as he wiped down the surfaces and put the rest of the chocolate cake in a tin to keep it fresh. He felt as though he never wanted to eat again, his stomach knotted and painful. My own fault. All of this is my fault. I have to make it better. I have to try.

He drank what was left of the wine in his glass, and after a moment’s hesitation poured another, taking it through to the lounge and sitting down with a sigh. Perhaps she’ll come out again. I need to talk to her. I need to tell her how I feel. Maybe it’ll help. Can’t make things worse than they are.

He sat in silence for a long time, his thoughts a frantic, jumbled mess of memories, regrets and broken dreams. So many things to try to fix between them. So many broken pieces to tease back together with clumsy hands. He barely knew where to start. He had heard Belle’s door open once, and then sounds of running water in the bathroom as she readied herself for bed. When her bedroom door closed again, and he realised that she wouldn’t come back into the lounge, he pushed up out of the chair, stumbling towards his own room to change into his night things. Not that he thought he’d get any sleep.

He cleaned his teeth, trying not to look at his reflection as he did so, hating the sight of himself. Splashing cold water on his face didn’t make him feel any better, and he towelled off and slipped on a clean T-shirt over loose pants, followed by his silk robe. Perhaps if he lay in the darkness for long enough, he could think of a decent enough apology.

He was on his way back from the bathroom when he heard a sound from Belle’s room. A sniffle. A muffled sob. He paused outside her door, unsure what to do. Would she even want to see him? God, he wanted to help her, to tell her exactly how he felt, to reassure her. He wanted to prove to her that he could be a good man. Or at least a better one. Starting from zero would surely mean he could be better. Fuck what you want, you piece of shit, start thinking about what she wants.

Hesitantly, he reached up and knocked quietly on her door.

“Belle?”

The sound inside cut off, and he imagined her lying in bed with the blankets pulled up over her face, glaring at the door.

“Sweetheart,” he said gently. “Please. At least let me know you’re alright.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Alright.” He waited a moment. “Can I come in?”

“Whatever.”

Her voice was wobbly, petulant, and he pushed open the door, slipping into the room. Belle was curled in bed with her knees drawn up and her arms around her curving belly, as though she was already hugging their child. It made him feel desperately sad. God, I’ve screwed everything up. I should go. It would be for the best. Give her some space.

"I think we should talk," he said. "You're right to be angry with me, and I don't blame you for it. Just - just tell me what I can do to make things easier on you."

Belle sat up slowly, the blankets falling around her waist as she leaned back against the pillows. She hadn't told him to get out, and so he sat down on the edge of the bed, fingers flexing on the handle of his cane

“I could leave,” he suggested. “I - I wouldn’t leave you alone, obviously, but I could arrange for someone to come and help you. A nurse, maybe. A carer. Someone who could do what I’ve been doing, only - well, only not me.”

Belle stared at him.

“You’re offering to pay for someone to come and care for me every day?” she said, in a neutral tone.

“Yes.”

“Which means you’d move out and probably head back to Storybrooke.”

“Well, I’d be back to take you to the hospital…”

“So I tell you I want you to open up, and you do, and we fight, and your solution to all this is to run away, is that right?”

Gold opened and closed his mouth.

“I - I just thought you wouldn’t want to see me, that’s all.”

“I’m tired of you assuming that you know what I want, Alexander.”

He snapped his mouth shut, and Belle sighed.

“Why couldn’t you have told me how you were feeling all those months ago?” she asked wearily. “You didn’t have to tell me you loved me, you just - you just had to let me in!”

He was shaking his head even before she had finished speaking.

“I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know.” He dropped his eyes, focusing on the blankets between them, where his fingers plucked awkwardly at a fold in the cloth. “Fear. Denial, maybe, I don’t know."

"Fear of what?"

Gold pulled a face, lifting a hand in a helpless expression.

"I can't explain it right now," he said. "It’s - it’s something I’ve started to talk about with Dr Hopper, but it’s not going to be something that I can flip a switch and fix.”

Belle sighed, pushing herself a little more upright and running a hand through her hair.

“I’m not expecting you to,” she said, and her voice was somewhat gentler. “I just - I just want you to be honest with me, that’s all. I want you to try.”

Gold sighed heavily, nodding. Come on. Tell her, you fucking idiot. You owe her the world, tell her how you fucking feel. He looked up, and Belle was staring at him, dark curls framing her face, her lower lip trembling a little. God, she’s so beautiful. How did I ever get to touch her? He licked his lips, his mouth dry.

“I love you,” he said softly. “I love you, Belle. I always have. I think - no, I know - I know I always will. I - I realise it’s probably about a year too late, but it’s true.”

She sucked in a shuddering breath, squeezing her eyes shut. Two tears tracked silvery paths down her cheeks, and he wanted to kiss them away.

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” he said. “I’m so, so sorry that I broke your heart. I’m sorry that I tried to make your decisions for you, and cut myself out of your life.”

Letting the words fall from his mouth was almost a relief, as though a heavy, poisonous growth inside him had been lanced, loss and pain draining out of him, and he could feel his own tears rising, stinging his eyes, threatening to break him.

“I - I’m sorry that I hurt you so badly that you couldn’t tell me about the baby,” he went on. “I’m sorry you thought I didn’t care, because I care so fucking much it hurts, Belle. And - and it scares me, and I - I don't know what to do."

She swallowed hard, glancing away as her mouth twisted.

"I don’t think I’ve ever fucked anything up to the extent that I’ve fucked up our lives, but I can’t say it’s come as a surprise," he added. "Everything that was ever good and pure and light in my life, I’ve lost it or - or destroyed it or driven it away. It was only a matter of time before I did the same to you.”

Belle shook her head sadly.

“You say that like it was inevitable,” she said. “Like it was some - some external force that you had no control over, but it wasn’t. You chose to drive me away.”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I did. I don’t know how I can make up for it, or - or if you even want me to.”

“I don’t know what I want right now,” she said. Her voice was quiet, subdued, and she shook her head. “God, I’m tired. I’m so tired. Why did you have to make it so hard?”

He dropped his eyes again, cold steel claws of shame and self-loathing raking deep rents in his soul. It hurt, a tearing pain deep in his chest, and he willed himself not to cry. The unexpected warmth of a hand on his made him look up, and Belle was staring at him, her eyes wet with tears, her expression somewhat softened.

“We have a lot to talk about,” she said.

“Yes.”

“We’re not going to fix everything tonight,” she added, and he shook his head.

“No.”

“Do you want to fix things?” she asked, and Gold felt his mouth twist.

“Yes,” he whispered. “God, Belle, I want to fix everything! I - I don’t know how we can, but—”

“Neither do I,” she said. “But maybe wanting to is the first step.”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and she squeezed his hand.

“It’s late,” she said. “We should sleep.”

“Alright.”

She tilted her head, her eyes gazing into his, as though she was searching for something. He wondered what it was she saw. If indeed there was anything to see.

“Will you stay?” she asked then, and he blinked.

“What?”

Belle sat back, patting the bed beside her.

“Stay with me,” she said. “I don’t want to be alone.”

He stared at her for a moment, surprised by the request, but then nodded.

“As you wish.”

Hesitantly, he moved to the other side of the bed, lying down on top of the blankets.

"Alex?"

"Yes?"

"Get in the bloody bed, you idiot."

"Oh. Right."

It felt awkward, shrugging out of his robe and draping it over the chair, and he caught the end of his cane in the trailing corner of the blanket, almost falling on his face. Belle didn’t seem to notice, curled on her side with her back to him. He leaned the cane against the corner of the nightstand where it met the wall, lifting the edge of the blankets and climbing in beside her. The bed was unfamiliar, the scent of Belle’s perfume on the pillows, and he lay on his back for a moment, reluctant to move and disturb her.

“You can put your arm around me,” she said, making him start.

He turned onto his side, eyes following the dark curls of her hair in the dim light. Shifting a little closer, he kept his arm above the blankets, wrapping it around her waist so that his hand was on the curve of her belly. A smile curved his lips at the thought of the child that would soon be in the world. He would try to make amends, to be the person that Belle and their child deserved. He would try his best to fix things. For all of them.

#fic: twisted fate #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #my fic #ripperblackstaff

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werezmastarbucks · 5 years ago

Text

v i o l e n c e

believe it or not, two (2) people asked me for the second part of c a r e, so there you go. I’ve no idea if I can manage the third part, so no strings attached, yeah?

Kai’s feeling much better now.

words: 2793

music: blink-182 - long lost feeling, pantera - heresy, cemetery gates

You sat with your eyes closed as the best part of the song came in. It made you think of… things.

say goodbye until it hurts

stormy skies and foreworks

You mouthed words quietly, feeling the sun on your face, and even by the warmth of it you could tell it was closing to evening. Suddenly, a gut feeling pulled on your string, told you, open your eyes! And you did.

Kai was sitting on his bed, examining you curiously, and music was still playing.

“Why am I wearing your airpods?” he screamed suddenly, and you jumped, immediately annoyed.

“Take them off”, you tried.

“I can’t hear you!” he yelled over the music in his ears, “I’m in your airpods!”

He tried to get out of bed, and you sprang up, all your muscles tense in a blink of an eye, like the rubber ties.

You walked to him, causing Kai to lift his dark eyes watching you like a lamb.

Don’t give me that look, you thought grumpily.

You took out your airpods and put them in the case, keeping your hand on his shoulder to prevent the witch from standing up and racing away through the window on his imaginary broom.

“Lay back”.

“Agh”, Kai winced. He laid his palm on his stomach, falling back on the pillow. You couldn’t tell if he was faking or not.

“I can’t believe Olivia nearly killed me”, he uttered, squinting his eyes and then focusing on you again.

“Really? You can’t believe it?” you asked, disinterested, but impressed on the inside, and took your phone to call Damon.

“She’s my sister”, he said miserably. You exchanged long looks. Kai’s pupils were huge like black lakes, liquid, and the orange rays of sun were crawling to his ear up his pillow. It felt like the light was haunting him, trying to conquer him, but he moved, attempting to escape the inevitable.

“You’re funny”, you finally said. You were sat on his bed, securing him on the pillow, “you’re a funny man”.

Malachai sighed heavily and rested his hand on the blanket. He looked a bit pale.

“Can you… can I get a glass of water? I’m thirsty”.

He was a fox. His voice, like silk, when he wanted something, could drill inside a brain and infect it. There was almost sweetness in that craze job’s demeanor when he was at disadvantage. When he knew he needed someone.

You stood up, put your phone in your back pocket and walked to the water cooler. You looked out in the window and then turned your head back to watch Kai. Of course he could be all whiney and hurt, laying there nursing his huge scar, gutted and bled out. But you’d be damned if you believed for one second that little shit didn’t have something on his brewing mind. He watched you back from the pillow, his eyes like two coals, silent. You brought the cup back to him, and he attempted to sit again, acting like it hurt him more than you could imagine, regardless of the fact that he’d already got up earlier. As he posed himself in bed, he took the cup from your hand.

“Thanks”.

In a split second you knew something was going on. It wasn’t the look he hooked you on, it was the water flying in your face. You shirt was wet as he threw the cup away, and grabbed you by the hand. You tried to get up, but his grasp was strong, and immediately, he started chanting. You bent your knees, trying to slither from bed. Kai’s fingers crawled up to your elbow and dug into your skin in a bulldog-like manner. It seemed like there was no escape from him. Before you knew it, incredible feeling of infirmity washed over you, and your brain cried emergency. You kicked, shrugged, trying to get away, and nothing worked. Your limbs stopped complying with you, warm sun turning into burning density in the room. Everything was swaying, the room started spinning as Kai’s voice was getting louder and louder. There was uneven pain in your chest, burning between your ribs, headache – all you could think of. Every part of your body went in overrun, and the bones felt like cracking, while your lungs deflated, and only sucked the air slowly, unwillingly. You couldn’t even feel his grasp anymore, as every inch of your skin burnt, but above all, there was that paralyzing faintness that turned a human into a toy. Apparently, you slid down onto the floor, and he lifted you up and put you back into bed.

Bleakness of the room was pierced by random specks of sunlight like glistening particles of dust. Even your mind was on hault because you couldn’t feel angry. Somewhere far away your own voice sounded like a fain echo, saying, asshole, but you didn’t get the whole idea. The only thing you could feel was that you were dying.

Malachai’s face appeared in front of yours, and his lips weren’t moving with his words,

“I’m sorry, it’s nothing personal. I can’t go on with the wound like that…”

He left. There were steps, and then a blunt thump.

“Ah, shit”.

He tried to leave the room and bumped into the invisible barrier Bonnie had set up. This one was smart, the source of magic in a bell, not more than a trinket she found in her house. The type of thing was irrelevant, it could be a bar of chocolate for all they knew. But the bell wasn’t here, so the barrier couldn’t be siphoned. Kai was restricted by it, but couldn’t reach it, and he couldn’t suck it out of the air. Every time he’d do it, the bell, somewhere in the town, would restore the barrier again, and again.

“Smart”, he grumbled. You realized you were now stuck here with him, dying, helpless, unable to move your fingers. Just like him, you were now locked inside, only your head working half-properly, while your body was slowly decaying. You had no idea what he’s done to you. But seeing – or, rather, feeling him walk around, said that he sucked all the life force out of you, repaired himself and left you to die.

Heartless. But then again, it’s Parker. What did you expect?

Your eyes felt full of sand, but you were struggling to keep them open. You didn’t notice the second he returned to the bed. All of a sudden his hand was sliding around your waist, and your inner voice became a bit stronger out of terror.

He’s touching me.

You were turning into a doll, unable to move, your limbs itchy and out of control. Only a part of your mind was intact which was painfully similar to what happens when you get a fever. Well, that was one nasty infection lingering above you.

Kai pulled your phone from your pocket and then lifted your palm, pressing your finger to the button to unblock it.

“That’s cool”, he mumbled to himself. The bed just next to you sank as he sat closer. Your sight started to return, but your body refused to work. You started seeing the outline of Kai, humped over your iPhone, frowning like he was real busy with something extra responsible.

He shot you a glance, and his eyes smiled. You felt like an insect prepped against the glass. He lifted your phone to his ear without taking his eyes off you.

“Good day, Diamond”, he smiled, “I’m up. Wanna come and let me out?”

You couldn’t hear what Damon was saying. You could just watch him and wait. You tried to force the muscles of your legs to work, to push him off the bed, but all the systems were shut down. It didn’t hear you. You wondered if he took too much, and you were really going to die. What a wheel of fortune, with you two, the comical irony in which one of you is laying bleeding out life, and it’s the other one’s choice to let you go or spare you. You tried to tell him that you weren’t afraid of him; that he was an A-class douchebag. Suddenly you realized he was already completely dressed. When did he have time to dress up?

“Oh, Y/N, she’s here. She’s dying. You know, the stab wound was so big, it kinda sucked, so Y/N kindly offered to help out… she’s so full of energy. Well, was”.

Silence again. He gave out the baddest smirk and looked away.

“Uh-huh. Scary”, his voice was completely calm, “well, imagine the kinds of things I can do to her while you’re running around fuming. Bring the source of magic, and let me out, buddy”.

He hung up and sighed.

“Stuck again…” Kai said slowly, after a pause.

“You guys know it hurts me, right? I kind of have a PTSD after being locked away, and now this, again…” he clicked his tongue, “not nice”.

He reached for the case with your airpods and opened it. You rolled your eyes away, testing what you see. The room was returning, all the things in it in their places. He put one of the airpods in your right ear.

“Is that left or right? Right”, he sank into your phone again.

“You know… when I was young, I loved Pantera. Have you heard about them? You don’t have any songs…”

You were drifting in the air, your limbs intact but silent. The warmth of this bastard’s body next to you was the only thing you felt except eternal feebleness and pain. No wonder he was a Gemini, dual in all things.

“Check this album out. That was one of the last ones I got to listen to before I got to prison. It’s one of their best works”.

Loud music banged into your ear; that insane jerk put the volume on maximum listening to a metal band.

“This is Heresy, a great song”, Kai promised. His face was lit with a dreamy smile. When the full drums came in, pain pierced your brain. Torture! He was torturing you. Knocked you out, made you absolutely harmless, and then went on physically abusing you. Pantera was fine. The volume was deafening. His head started rocking back and forth slowly.

“Everybody was going crazy when I listened to them in my room. I like it loud”.

One song went, then another.

Reverend, reverend, is this some conspiracy?

Crucified for no sins…

You were blinking slowly, as your consciousness was fighting to return.

“Oh!” Kai turned to you with a swing and slapped you on your lap. An eerie wave of cyan pain rolled all the way down your body, and it got dark for a second. You swam out of the twilight to hear him say,

“…actually, when I was, like, twenty one. I was in California with my ex-girlfriend. And we went to this underground show and met them. They were just a sad act back then, very fresh beginners, you know. Very bunt punk-rock, no melody, no nothing. They were playing with Scott Raynor and he was so-o-o unimaginative, you know? After the show I met with Tom and Mark and told them, you guys, you’re gonna go far, because you got the spirit. But you gotta lose this drummer. And then, like next year, I go to prison. That sucked. And when I got out, they were big! How cool is that? Is that cool or sad? But, I mean, first of all, it’s unfair, because you can actually say that Blink owes everything to me…”

You were losing concentration over the music and his voice drilling your brain at the same time. The room was getting more and more even, and suddenly, there was a light stinging in your left arm. You tried to move it – and your fingers retracted. You made you hand crawl on the sheets and touch his hip.

Kai looked at your hand with outmost curiosity, like it was a bug he’d never seen before.

Then he looked back at you with compassion.

“Wow, he’s not in a hurry to save you, is he? You’ve got cool friends”.

You opened your mouth, your lips parting lazily, and the air flew out of your throat.

“What?”

You tried again, anger boiling in you. With it, there came joy, because your mind was clearer and clearer with every Pantera song that swept through your decomposing eardrums.

“Try again”, he advised. You sucked the air through your teeth.

“Motherfucker”, you whispered.

Malachai frowned and bit his lower lip, looking at you, puzzled.

I’m going to kill you, you mouthed, but he ignored you.

“Should I call him again?..”

Just as he said it, you both heard steps outside the room. At that time exactly you wondered why nobody came to check on him, and didn’t even look inside. What would he do to the doctors if they discovered you half-dead in his bed?

Kai sat himself even deeper next to you, lifting one leg and pulling it to himself, as Damon appeared in the doorframe.

He couldn’t come in as long as the barrier was holding, because he wouldn’t be able to leave again. The plan had been that you’d jump out in case something goes south with Kai when he wakes up. He was hurt, and he didn’t have vampire speed, that’s what you hoped for.

“Did you bring it?” Kai asked immediately. Damon looked inside, puffed like a handsome hedgehog.

“Y/N”.

“She’s here”, the witch took your arm and waved it like you were a corpse.

“Leave her”.

Kai sighed, and his cheekbones cut under his skin which said he was losing patience. You looked at his perfectly pointed nose, a work of art in terms of shape. No wonder the guy was a complete narcissist, unbearable in self-admiration. Even lying there at his very unlikely mercy, you could still admit he had good genes. That didn’t help the fact you desired to peel his skin off.

Kai put up your phone above your face thin edge down, and Damon grabbed on the doorframe.

“Give me the damn thing, or I’m killing her. Did you see her neck? You think one hit is enough to break it? I bet it is”.

You looked at his wrist and how steady his hand was.

“Get away from her”.

“I’m killing her…”

Your blood boiled. You reached for his elbow, pulling on the sleeve of his hoodie with weak fingers, but he didn’t seem to notice.

The music that was still playing in your ear was driving you crazy and you tried to shake your head to get the airpod out, but it was sitting neatly inside.

“Four… three…”

“Kai, stand up and come here, let me choke you myself”.

Just give him the damn bell, you thought. You tried to move away from under his aim, but Kai just adjusted. There was nowhere to escape from the hard, guillotine-like edge of your own device.

“Two…”

“Okay!” Damon yelled. He threw something inside the room, and Kai caught it with one hand, silencing the thin ringing. He dropped your phone, having lost all interest in both you and Pantera in a skip of a heartbeat.

“Hmm… okay”. He took it with both hands and started siphoning. Damon was waiting in the door, getting ready to charge like a bull.

You shouldn’t have brought him the water. It’s actually pretty understandable, what he did. That was the worst thing. You could understand the kind of things Kai did, and why he did it. You just hated the fact he was living in this alien dimension, completely alone, and no one could relate. You understood but you couldn’t empathize.

He threw out his hand, and Damon got pulled by an invisible force, crashing hard into the opposite wall somewhere in the corridor.

Kai took out your airpod, and the silence of the room went ringing louder than the bell. He jumped off the bed and patted you on your shoulder.

“I hope you enjoyed my Blink story. It’s completely true. I actually still like them. Alright, bye”.

Putting the bell into his pocket like a shoplifter that can’t keep his hands away from stuff, he walked away, leaving you floating on the bed, with your head full of squealing.

In a couple of minutes Salvatore’s face was next to you, and his salty, hot blood started flooding your throat. You closed your eyes, trying not to puke, as it healed you from the inside.

If your mouth wasn’t occupied, as you were gradually gaining all your body back, you would be swearing so much.

#kai parker #kai parker imagine #kai parker x reader #vampire diaries #legacies #imagine

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