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thekinkyleopard · 9 months ago

Text

By Moonlight

A Zer0nyx Canon Snz Fic

⚠️Content Warning⚠️

Snz Fic, Romantic Smut, Fluff, Angst

Description: Zeroh comes back from a particularly heavy crossing and just wants to be seen for once. Amara hints at the reaper, he may not be alone. But with his photic allergies, will it ruin the mood, or lighten it?

Author’s Notes: Needed to poop something new out for these fucking CUTIES!!!! Hope you all enjoy <3 @aller-geez owns Zeroh, Amara and did the art!

Zeroh wandered back into the cemetery that doubled as a work space and home, feeling heavier than usual. Being a Reaper, definitely had it’s downsides, and often left him feeling more hollow than when he left.

Amara sensed Zeroh's heavy heart the moment he stepped into the cemetery, her shiny ghostly black feathers ruffling in concern. She perched on a weathered headstone, tilting her head as she watched him with beady white eyes. Popping in between each stone he passed by to keep with the reaper’s stride. Zeroh moved slowly among the tombstones, his steps heavy with the weight of the recent crossing he had assisted over the veil. The image of the young man’s face haunted him, so full of innocence and light extinguished far too soon. He had sacrificed himself for a lover. A lover. Something he knew the pain of losing but could barely remember the happiness of having.

As he reached a secluded corner of the cemetery where an ancient weeping willow stood guard over forgotten graves, Zeroh sank to his knees. He let himself metaphorically melt into the softened grass that had overgrown the many flattened and forgetten stones of the very distant past. “What am I to do, Miss Lady? How might I carry the weight of all this grief, and still…move forward?” he sighed, the sound escaped his lips in a long, drawn-out exhale, the sound of defeat and weariness. The rustling of leaves in the ancient willow tree seemed to echo his sigh, a melancholy harmony. The crow, warping between the seen and unknown veils finally finding a comfortable space upon his shoulder. She cawed gently, pressing her body suggestively into his neck, earning an eyeroll for a response. “That seems like a lot to press upon the poor spirit, does it not?”

The bird fluffed, and cawed. Bossy little thing. He sighed with frustration, absentmindedly drawing an endless circle in the dirt of the grounds. “Impossible, we hardly speak, I can’t imagine they’d want anything to do with me and my woes, don’t be ridiculous,” scoffing at the insistent creature. Amara’s shadow grew in size and then dramatically exploded into many smaller shadows that melded into the grass around him. “My goodness with the theatrics tonight,” O shook his head with an amused chuckle escaping his lips. “And what if you’re wrong? Hm? Would the possible rejection be worth the risk? I should just keep it all to myself…what would you know hm?” furrowing his eyebrows and sticking his tongue out at her.

The bird paused, and looked at Zeroh that almost mimicked the exact expression of “You have got to be kidding me, right?”

“Im not kidding! And you shouldnt be either…expressing myself isn’t easy, you know this Miss lady,” crossing his arms over his chest and staring at her knowingly. She shrugged her little bird shoulders poofing away and then back again in the tree above him, her shape taking form of the small ghost that was the topic of conversation causing the reaper to quickly look away, if a blush could spread across his face, it would have. “Regardless!…how do you know I’m not opening myself up to being completely humiliated?” the bird rolled her glowing solid white orbs, clearly there was something she knew that was unbeknownst to the Reaper, and would remain so should he chicken out.

Zeroh leaned indecisively against the trunk of the tree. The willow seemed to sway gently in the night breeze, as if whispering secrets to the shadows that danced around the Reaper. He let out a heavy sigh, his thoughts swirling with doubt and vulnerability. The ghostly figure of Amara perched on a branch above him, her eyes fixed on him with a mixture of impatience and understanding. She let out a soft caw, and quickly disappeared again, only to reappear in a cloud of vapor around him, pushing into his side. It was almost as if she was directing him, shoveling him into the right decision. “Alright! Alright…” he put up his hands defensively as he refused to fight against her. “I’ll go…I’ll, try…” he sighs nervously.

O took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversations that would possibly lay ahead. With a newfound resolve, he stood up straight and brushed off his dark cloak, his eyes focused on the distant horizon where the boundary between the living world and the realm of the dead blurred. Amara's ghostly form flitted around him in a dance of encouragement, her presence a comforting reminder that he was not alone in his struggles.

As he made his way through the cemetery and into the night, Zeroh felt a sense of purpose rekindle within him. The weight of grief still lingered, but now there was a glimmer of hope shining through the darkness. With each step he took towards the unknown, he felt a renewed strength building within him, fueled by the support of an unlikely companion. “You’re certain this is a good choice to make?” He spoke to the raven that flittered in and out of the veil between Zeroh’s steps closer to the part of the graveyard he knew Onyx would be attending. She cawed in response, strongly and certainly, the reaper could only groan with anxiety. As they closed in, spotting the apparition placing bouquets of flowers at empty gravestones, Amara vanished, allowing Zeroh to take the next few steps ahead, on his own.

“H-…” he cleared his throat. “Hey, Yixxy…how’s it…tonight?” What even are words? The reaper thought to himself already feeling the intense urge to run away and avoid this conversation at all costs, but in the distance of his peripheral vision, he could see a set of ominously glowing, round orbs, glaring at him. Watching him. He knew there was no avoiding at least, hanging out with the spiritual. The smaller in stature, quickly turned around, spooked as they jumped out their skin.

“OH! Zeroh!” they gasped grasping at their chest “I- I didn’t hear you come over!” Onyx stuttered, nearly dropping the bouquet they were holding. Their normally shadowy face seemed to flush with a faint hue of color, giving their ghostly features an almost lifelike appearance in the muted moonlight.

Zeroh couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the spiritual’s sudden surprise, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I apologize for startling you,” he began, his voice gentle and reassuring. “I hope I’m not intruding. I see you’re paying your respects,”

Onyx nodded slowly, their glowing eyes flickering with a mixture of emotions. “Yes, just… making sure everyone has a little something,” they replied softly, their voice carrying a wistful tone. “It’s comforting in a way, being here to make sure no one goes forgotten,” the little ghost had taken it upon themselves to make sure that old, forgotten, and long abandoned graves were balanced out from the graves that simply had too many. There had been some complaints but, since there was no one living to blame, there was no solutions to be had.

Zeroh nodded in understanding, his own gaze drifting to the gravestones surrounding them. The cemetery felt peaceful and eerie at the same time, the air growing stale between them. Onyx tilted their head ever so slightly before their voice broke the silence. “Was there something you wanted to say, O?” It wasnt too often they found themselves in conversation, a lot of the moments between them were silent passings through the yard, or quietly tending the stones together. Neither of them having the nerve to open up.

Earnestly, Onyx admired the Reaper, being able to be the helping hand that escorts the living into the realm of the dead. The ghost thought of him as some what of a hero, not only for that but for the kindness of allowing him to come along with him. He was so sure of himself, knew his place, his role, and was an absolutely unreplaceable source in this universe. Nothing like themselves who could hardly decide what to wear half the time. The two of them stood awkwardly, silently, Zeroh trying to muster up the courage to say something, anything. Onyx wondering if maybe, they overstepped. The overthinking was overwhelming between them both and the only thing that could break them out was the sound of an exasperated and irritated “CAW!!!” In the distance, Zeroh cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck.

“I…was wondering….” the feeling of wanting to bail growing within the ethereal almost consumed him, but his white eyes flashed back over to the flaring bird, and realized he would much rather not face her wrath. “If you wanted to walk with me? I…had a rough day and,” this time Zeroh looked down, his eyebrows furrowed slightly and then he took a deep breath, exhaled and finished his thought. “Could use the company…” he finally looked back up, a few short inches, and met the look of a very intrigued little spirit.

Onyx's eyes softened at Zeroh's hesitant request, a flicker of understanding passing between them. They nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corners of their translucent lips. "Of course, Z. I'd be more than happy to accompany you," they replied, their voice echoing softly in the quiet night air. The Reaper softened. Almost like a very lightweight had been lifted.

As they began to walk together through the cemetery, the atmosphere seemed to shift around them. The shadows cast by the slowly illuminating moonlight appeared less menacing, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of fresh blooms from the many assorted flowers growing and presented within the graveyard. Amara, flew overhead silently back and forth between the veil, her wings beating rhythmically but still quietly as she followed them through the maze of headstones and monuments.

Zeroh felt a sense of peace settle over him as he walked side by side with Onyx, the weight of his sorrow easing with each step. “So…what’s on your shoulders?” Yix asked him, suddenly taking the reaper off guard from the once silent night they were sharing.

“On my shoulders?” He asked quizzically, looking over at the other’s almost absent gaze.

“You slump…every time you return from a particularly heavy crossing…your shoulders, they slump, and I can tell you’re carrying a weight that once wasn’t there,” Zeroh’s eyes almost widened, and this action caused the little spirit to suddenly look away, a flush would be presented across their face, should they have had any blood to produce such. The Reaper was just shocked. To be seen. To be known so intimately, without so much of a word needing to be said? It was almost remarkable. He snorted, almost solemnly through his nostrils.

“That obvious then, hm?” two sets of pale colored eyes met, in a moment of sincerity they both stopped walking, and just stood there for a moment. Eventually, Yix nodded in agreement, their expression soft and understanding.

"It's not just your shoulders that carry the weight, Zeroh. It's in your eyes, in the way you move through the world. I may not know the full extent of your burdens, but I can see that…they are heavy," Their words hung between them in the cool night air, a quiet acknowledgment of the reaper's struggles.

Zeroh was silent for a passing second, his feet sturdy and deliberate as he processed Yix's observation. "I... I appreciate your insight," he finally murmured, his voice tinged with a mix of gratitude and vulnerability. "It's been a long time since someone has truly seen me…well besides Amara but, there once was another that did…” he smiled gently looking up to see the moon peaking suspiciously behind the trees, he felt a slight tingle behind his sinuses, but took a deep breath in and looked back over at Onyx. Who was looking at him in an almost observant type of way, there was a tension between them neither could place.

Ony smiled sympathetically, finally finding the words to address the delicate topic at hand. It was clear that the Reaper was still deeply affected by it. "Whoever they were, they must have been incredibly special," they said softly, trying to provide comfort in their tone.

Zeroh's smile faltered slightly at the mention of ‘special’, not to the fault of the spirit, but O thought way more of his past lover as far superior to ‘special’. A flicker of pain crossing his face before he quickly masked it. He nodded, his gaze drifting towards a distant headstone as memories threatened to resurface. "Yes, they were...special indeed," he replied quietly, his voice filled with a mix of nostalgia and sorrow. Onyx could sense the weight of unspoken emotions hanging in the air between them, an invisible barrier that kept Zeroh guarded despite their growing closeness.

He looked away, the silence between them stagnant and almost slightly awkward, neither knowing how to proceed. Amara appeared off in the visage of Z’s viewing vicinity, and she gave him a look, a knowing look, one Zeroh couldn’t mistake for any other. He knew what she was telling him, and it was to be vulnerable, to open up again, but what if he couldnt? What if it was too late for any of that, and his only chance of it was turned to dust many years previously? Not to mention how presumptuous of him to assume this young soul would want or need anything from him. He was spiraling, his mind swirling in a thousand and one different ways and the bird could see it from a million miles away.

But before Zeroh could retreat further into his thoughts, Onyx reached out a hand and gently placed it on the reaper's shoulder, which shocked him, he hadnt been touched in so long. Yet the gesture was still somehow comforting and grounded him in the present moment. Their touch was surprisingly comforting, sending a shiver down his long form. "Zeroh, you don't have to carry your burdens alone," the spirit spoke softly, their voice filled with empathy. "Sometimes sharing the weight can make it lighter,"

Zeroh met Onyx's gaze, his eyes searching for any signs of insincerity but finding only genuine care reflected back at him. The reaper felt a knot loosen in his chest, a sense of relief washing over him at the thought of not having to bear everything by himself, and that maybe there was something, safe, here.

"I... I suppose I could try," Zeroh whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the night. "It's been so long since I've let anyone in…his name was Sebastian…and I dont think I’ve said his name in…half a decade,” he scoffed, feeling guilty in the most strange way. They each took a seat upon a nearby fallen tree, one that had been neglected to be removed but wasnt causing any issues rotting across graves, so Zeroh felt no need to remove it. Instead they both took a seat under the slow raising moonlight, as the light started to glow brighter, it reflected off the water, right into Z’s sensitive eyes. He shook his head, he exhaled sharply through his nostrils and hovered a gloved hand over his eyes to shield himself. Clearing his throat and trying to shove the strange sensitive sensations that momentarily shook him.

“Anyways…it was a long time ago...I fell…for someone, and his name was Sebastian,” he paused trying his best to not let the brightening light slowly creeping in, ruin the vulnerability of this moment. “He was, so kind, and fun…he made everything seem so much easier than it was…” his face turned up into a softened smile, one that only spread half way across his lips. Onyx listened intently as Zeroh spoke of the man, the name lingering in the air like a bittersweet melody. They could feel the weight of nostalgia and longing in Z's words, the ache of old wounds reopening in the quiet of the night. The reaper's vulnerability touched something deep within Onyx's ethereal core, stirring memories long forgotten in the shadowed corners of their consciousness.

As Zeroh's voice trailed off, lost in the echoes of memory, a soft sigh escaped Onyx's lips. They reached out a hand to gently grasp Zeroh's, offering silent support and understanding. "Sebastian must have meant a great deal to you," the spirit murmured, their tone soft and never losing its kindness. O nodded solemnly in response, looking over at the many graves around them, mindlessly scanning the words but paying no real mind to the context of them.

"He certainly meant more than a great deal...he was my light in the darkness, my anchor when I needed stability…in the strangest ways..” he hesitated, his throat already begging to swallow the words he wished so badly to speak. In the distance again, above him this time, within the trees, the glowing, menacing set of eyes that threatened him in the darkness. That insistent bird…he cursed her for her bossy nature, but he knew she was right, he could use another being like Onyx around, to confide in, to, seek companionship with. “I feel, so closely to you..in the uhm,” he cleared his throat. “Same, manner of way…you’re soothing…and I…” he looked down at their hands, inches apart, so carelessly rested on the wood. “Really, rather enjoy…your uhm…” now finding the courage to look up, they met eyes, Onyx felt like they were holding in the longest breath of air, not that, breathing was terribly necessary. “Company…your presence…the things you say…you’re,” taking a deep, nervous lungful of air in and letting it out loudly. he nodded. “Incredible,” finishing the final sentence to his long drawn out thought.

To his amazement, Onyx sat the whole way through and not once lost their patience nor did their eyes glaze over in boredom. This was going surprisingly well for him, if he had to have a say.

“Wow..I’m…honored, to hold such a valuable space, Zeroh, I’m..” finding themselves at an almost true loss for words. “Immensely grateful…for you…and Amara, and everything…you, have no idea, what you’ve done for me,” They each felt a slight flutter within the pit of their stomachs, something awakening inside them that neither of them had a clue what to do with. O knowing the feeling, but too terrified to really touch it. Or Onyx. “You are…incredibly special, Zeroh,”

The Reaper’s blackened heart swelled at the words spoken by the other so freely, feeling a warmth he had almost forgotten existed for so long. The weight of his past seemed to momentarily lift as he gazed into Onyx's eyes, seeing a reflection of compassion and acceptance that he had been yearning for. A sense of connection blossomed between them, fragile yet profound in its sincerity. As the moonlight bathed them in its gentle glow, O found himself lowering his hand to reach out, but only to pull his fingers back into his own lap, Yixxy noticed, but stayed quiet.

"I... I never thought I would find someone who could understand me like you do, Onyx," Zeroh confessed, his voice steady yet filled with sensitivity. "Your presence brings me a kind of peace I thought was lost to me forever,” He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, "I want to thank you for being here with me, for listening and caring in a way that no one else has…I feel, lighter, somehow,” he laughed, silently, through his nostrils but found himself sniffling quickly after, shaking his head gently. The emanating light starting to wear him down thin. His throat was itching and the canal of his nose was swelling slowly, eyes watering as he pushed up a hand to wipe the collective black liquid from his ducts. “Sorry…the moon is bright tonight…” he confessed as he fought his oncoming symptoms.

Onyx's ethereal form seemed to shimmer with a newfound light that was beaming from inside him. This being, this, Reaper, was grateful for them? They hadn’t had someone grateful for them, in, centuries. Ony smiled. They reached up a gentle, delicate hand and as it went from transparent to solid, slowly, they placed it under Zeroh’s eyes, using the pad of their thumb to wipe an escaped tear. “You truly are remarkable…” Their response was a gentle whisper, filled with warmth and sincerity. It was all they could manage to utter, their voice carrying a soothing tone that enveloped him like a warm hug.

Despite Zeroh being well aware of Onyx's current state, he couldn't help but gasp and feel a jolt run through his body when the ghost placed their hand on his face. He froze, his expression filled with worry as he scanned Onyx for any signs of pain or uncertainty. Yet, they were still there, smiling at him without a doubt. Letting out a sigh of relief, Zeroh reached up to place his hand on top of theirs. They locked eyes before the Reaper finally spoke up again. "I- I really want to kiss you," he started, but then quickly looked away, afraid of what he might see in Onyx's eyes. "But I'm scared,”

Onyx felt a wave of emotions crash over them at Zeroh's confession. The vulnerability and rawness in his voice tugged at their very essence, stirring feelings they had long forgotten. As Zeroh hesitated, Onyx reached up to gently cup his cheek, their touch cool yet comforting against his lonely skin.

"You don't have to be afraid," they whispered softly, their eyes filled with understanding and a glimmer of something more. "I feel it too...the connection…" Onyx leaned in closer, almost purely off instinct, their breath mingling with his as they closed the gap between them, pressing their lips against his in a tender kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in the moment, a rush of feelings swirling within them both. It was a kiss filled with unspoken words and shared longing, a bridge between two souls reaching out for solace and understanding. And as they pulled away, Zeroh felt a warmth spreading through him, a sense of peace and belonging he hadn't felt in ages. Onyx's presence enveloped him in a comforting embrace, the weight of his pain momentarily lifted by the connection they shared.

As they gazed into each other's eyes, Zeroh felt a flicker of hope ignite within him, a light in the darkness that he thought had long been snuffed.

"I... I don't know what to say," the Reaper murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he searched Onyx's eyes for reassurance. The ghostly figure before him emanated a sense of calm and acceptance that washed over him like a soothing balm.

They smiled softly, their eyes reflecting understanding and warmth. "You don't have to say anything," they replied kindly, their hand falling off Zeroh's cheek, only to lay carefully on the ethereal’s hand that was located upon his knee. "Just know that you're not alone in this journey, not anymore,” there were no more words that could be spoken between the two as they just stared at each other in awe, but slowly the light grew brighter, the urges within O were growing impossible to ignore, and he chuffed unexpectedly.

A sense of urgency gripped Zeroh as he felt the familiar tingling in his skin, a warning sign that the moonlight was becoming too intense for his photic allergies to handle. Panic surged through him as he tried to preserve this precious moment with Onyx, to bask in their connection a little longer. But the bright light of the moon crept closer, casting its silvery glow around them, threatening to shatter the fragile peace they had found.

Onyx sensed Zeroh's distress and their smile faltered, replaced by a look of concern. They could see the telltale signs of his struggle against the moonlight, the way his skin prickled and his breath quickened. Unsure of what to do, the ghost just simply sat there, he’d seen this a few times but, every time those..sounds escaped O, the spirit would find themselves retreating. Completely and utterly embarrassed by their body’s natural reaction to it. However, if he ran now, he risked insulting the Reaper or worse, hurting his feelings in the manner of a wrong assumption. They each were in a pickle of sorts.

Zeroh could feel the tension in the air, the impending danger of his condition flaring up. Despite his internal struggle, he couldn't bear to see Onyx's expression shift from gentle understanding to worry. The Reaper knew it was too late to escape it, and they’d both just have to get through it. “I think….” he snorted, trying to desperately push the feeling out of his face, but to no avail. “I’m gonna sneeze…” it came out in a gasp, the moonlight now shining down on him with full force. The feeling crawled down his nose like tv static, or a fizzy drink, and it exploded through his chest. “Huh’…HH’aHTCHh’iew!” into the crook of his elbow, trying to avoid a mess across his new found, crush? Despite having shared an intimate moment, the reaper certainly wasnt concerned with labels as his face felt like it was tingling relentlessly.

Onyx on the other hand, was stone cold solid, eyes widened almost like a deer caught in a set of headlights. If they could blush, they would be, brightly, across every surface of their skin he took a deep, slow, exhale out, sucking their lower lip in between two clenching rows of teeth. ‘What the hell is wrong with me ?’ they thought almost worriedly to themselves as their whole body felt like it was suddenly, hot.

It was in that moment, as Zeroh fought against the uncontrollable urge to sneeze under the moonlight, that Onyx felt a shift within themselves. The sight of Zeroh's struggle sparked something deep inside them, igniting a fire that they had never experienced before. As Onyx watched the Reaper battle his senses, a strange fluttering sensation stirred in their chest, sending shivers down their spine. “Heh’TSSCHT! Huh’TSSSCH!” two more he was regrettably unable to stop as a fine mist spread across his arm.

The light from the moon seemed to caress Zeroh's features, highlighting the delicate lines of his face, the tear stains on his cheeks, the redness in his nose as he wiped, and the vulnerability in his eyes. Onyx couldn't tear their gaze away, captivated by the rawness of the moment and the intimacy that hung between them like a veil.

With each gasp and hitch in Zeroh's breath, Onyx felt their own pulse quicken in response. The heat that had been building within them now roared to life, consuming their senses with a newfound desire that left them reeling. Onyx cleared their throat. “A-Are you okay? Do you uh…do you…shit,” they lost their train of thought. O looking over at the spirit with confusion behind his own gaze. What was this? The little ghost was never this flustered.

“I’b…I..hh—HUH’AHTSSCHHHh’iew!….fibe…” trying to play it off he huffed almost with frustration at himself, ruining a perfectly romantic evening with his stupid allergies, he turned away. “I'b so soddy…” shaking his head back and forth. “SndFf…” trying so hard to keep himself cleared of any further mess. Black ooze slowly dripping out from his nostrils as he kept wiping it away.

“N-No! D-Don’t be sorry it’s uhm…really,” Onyx’s hands were practically shaking, knees buckling under the weight of sudden arousal. “It’s fine,” clearing their own throat awkwardly, the reaper couldn’t help but notice how, squirrely, the other suddenly became and stepped closer to the apparition.

“Are you alrighd? You seem…upsed,” the stuffed up way that the reaper responded was only adding to Ony’s discomfort, he was so attractive it almost made them crazy, they took in a deep breath and tried to be honest, like the other had been so graciously.

“I’m not..I’m not sure it’s just,” looking away they absentmindedly started twirling a lock of their hair, nervous. “The way that sounded…it’s almost as if..…I enjoy it, like, more than I should..” the spirit’s voice was almost an embarrassed mumble. Completely and totally thrown off by the way they felt in regards to their companion’s allergy afflictions.

As Onyx confessed their unexpected situation, Zeroh turned back to face them, his own confusion mirroring the ghost's turmoil. The air between them crackled with unuttered words and untouched emotions, each trying to make sense of the tangled mess that had woven itself between their souls. Zeroh took a hesitant step forward, closing the distance between them until they were mere inches apart.

His heart pounded in his chest as he reached out a trembling hand to cup Onyx's cheek, his touch feather-light against their ethereal skin. "Can I help, somehow?" he asked tenderly, his voice barely audible in the still night air.

Onyx's eyes widened in surprise, the flickering moonlight casting shadows across their face as they processed Zeroh's confession. A myriad of emotions played across their features - uncertainty, longing, and a spark of something more sultry. Yix took a deep breath and shrugged, attempting to look away again before getting lost in the trance of the other being’s lips that were so close. “I-I’m not sure…”

“Would you like me to do it again…?” O asked curiously, tilting the other’s gaze back up to his own with a thin, long index finger.

The ghost felt a rush of conflicting emotions - desire mingled with uncertainty, curiosity twined with fear. As they met Zeroh's gaze, a silent understanding passed between them, a connection stronger than any words could convey.

With a shaky exhale, Onyx found themselves leaning into Zeroh's touch, the sensation sending shivers down their spine. In that moment, time seemed to stand still as they inched closer together, drawn by an invisible thread of fate that bound their souls as one.

Zeroh's eyes held a mixture of tenderness and longing as he leaned in slowly, his breath mingling with Onyx's in the space between them. Their lips brushed together in a tentative kiss, soft and hesitant yet filled with passion still, though, far too short. O pulled away and smiled sweetly. “Well?”

Onyx felt nothing short of dizzy as their lips separated once again, such gentle, tender and yet romantic gestures, so simple, that almost made the ghost feel like they’d crossed over. Shyly, with a bite of their lip they nodded gently, matching the curious, yet heated gaze of the other’s.

Zeroh smirked, nodding in response before standing up straight again, and looking now directly into the moonlight. “Okay…Here we go…” he almost felt rather silly, what if this wasn’t actually what caused the little ghost to be excited? What if he was humiliating himself? He shook it off, unable to really pay focus to the thought as the moon shining into his direct irises was making them water, and itch.

The Reaper hitched, his whole body tensing as he struggled against the bright light that shone in front of him. His jaw opened slightly, as a tickle began to overwhelm him. "H-HH..." he sputtered, trying to contain himself. But the sensation was too strong, and soon he was fighting against it with all his might. "HH'TTSSChh'uu! hh-TSSCCHHHIEW!" The sneezes came out forcefully and without warning, like a cannonball being fired from its barrel. The sound echoed through the air, leaving behind a faint ring that seemed to linger for just a moment longer.

Onyx watched with a mix of awe and desire as Zeroh succumbed to another powerful fit under the moonlit sky. The ghost felt a surge of heat rush through them, specifically to their loins, a particular feeling they were definitely not used to. Their ethereal form tingling with anticipation at the sight before them. While Zeroh recovered from his sneezing, sniffling and rubbing at his nose to clear himself of any blackened mess, he turned to Onyx with a sheepish smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Did you uh…did you enjoy that?" Zeroh asked, nervously, tucking a loose strand of white hair behind his ear, his voice filled with a mix of amusement and uncertainty.

Onyx couldn't help but be drawn in by the Reaper's charm, their heart fluttering in their chest as they gazed into his warm eyes. "I uh….," Onyx clears their throat, nodding and smiling softly, “I very much did…a lot actually…something about the crinkle of your nose and the desperation behind each gasp..” almost a bit too descript with a hint of longing in their tone.

The tension between them crackled like electricity in the air, the unspoken words hanging between them like a delicate thread waiting to be pulled taut. Zeroh took another step closer to Onyx, closing the gap between them yet again. “So then…SnDfF..would you like to…retire…? There’s a nearby mausoleum we could, disappear too…yet to be occupied by any deceased,” The Reaper made it sound more like a sales pitch than a romantic night in.

Onyx's breath hitched at Zeroh's suggestive words, their cheeks flushing a faint shade of blue as desire pooled in their core, it was rather uncomfortable for someone who hadn’t really ever felt sexual attraction before, or ever. Yet, the ghost nodded eagerly, their translucent form shimmering with anticipation. Without another word, they took Zeroh's hand in theirs, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through both of them.

Together, they vanished into the night, their forms merging seamlessly as they made their way to the abandoned mausoleum. The air crackled with a newfound energy, charged with the unspoken certainty that hung between them like a veil of silk.

As they stepped into the dimly lit chamber of the mausoleum, Onyx turned to face Zeroh, their eyes alight with hunger and longing. They hopped up onto the empty coffin that was there in display, spreading their legs just gently to welcome Zeroh’s form. “Cozy,” they giggled shyly, and the reaper couldn’t help but return with a tender smile. “You know…” as O stepped closer, limiting the space between the two as he got comfortable between the other’s knees, gently he set his palms on each of the apparition’s thighs, a softened grip. “I have never, desired to be touched…and for the first time, I do..and it’s when I’m dead…” laughing, they shook their head, pale locks moving in slow wisps, “how lucky that I seemed to be shacking up with the one…being, that probably can, actually…touch me,” O chuckled at this, nodding his head in agreement before parting his lips to speak, fingers gripping tightly to the spirit’s thighs for emphasis.

“You’re not wrong…I do have that fairly helpful gift…” his response was breathy, almost like he was holding back something himself. Onyx reached down and began to slowly strip the Reaper of their protective gloves, he pulled his hands back and looked at the ghost almost in shock.

“You don’t need them…let me feel your hands on me…” Onyx was gentle in their disposition, returning back to grip the gloves at their hems as O settled them back down in between them, and trusted the little apparition instead of allowing fear to drive him.

The reaper’s hands trembled slightly as he allowed Onyx to remove his gloves, revealing blackened, slender fingers that looked almost fragile in the dim light of the mausoleum. A myriad of emotions flickered through his eyes - vulnerability, desire, fear. He hesitated for a moment before tentatively reaching out to touch Onyx's ethereal form, experimentally running them up the hem of the ghost’s sweater. His fingertips grazing their translucent skin with a feather-light touch.

A gasp escaped Onyx's lips at the sensation of Zeroh's touch was suddenly against their cool, incorporeal form. Amazed by the feeling, for both of them it had been entirely too long. The contrast was electrifying, sending a wave of pleasure coursing through them. They arched into his touch, craving more of the intimacy that seemed to spark between them like a wildfire. “Is…Is this okay? Are you okay?” The Reaper asked nervously, looking up at the other, while fingers continued to gently dance across their chest.

“N-No…It’s really…good, don’t…don’t stop, Zeroh,” his name came out like a gasp against their lips and O felt a rush of heat pool in his stomach at Onyx's reaction, a newfound boldness surging through him as he leaned in closer, capturing Onyx's lips in a loving kiss. The ghost melted into the other, sparks flying between them and suddenly there was a mess of hands, exploring, touching, simply touching. Gods it had been so long, they could practically spend the entire night just doing this.

Their lips meshed together in a passionate dance, mouths moving in sync as Onyx’s hands trailed to the hem of the Reaper’s torn up sweater. “Are you sure…?” they pulled apart enough to speak again, Zeroh needing a constant reassurance his new found lover wasn’t hurting, afraid or worse, dying. Onyx nodded as they began to peel themselves out of their shirt, undoing their pants, and Zeroh slowly followed suit. O stood there, shoveled between the ghost’s legs, standing in his underwear, as Onyx sat there in theirs. Slowly, carefully, the Reaper watched as his own hands slid up the other’s soft, solid body, they were transparent, but still so very much here and real and tangible. Unaffected by the curse his touch held. He smiled, now looking up at the other, who returned the gesture.

“Do you think you can…get out another?” the ghost asked nervously, in a whisper of words that almost didn’t escape them. The Reaper bit his lower lip, trying to hold back another chuckle, worried he would embarrass the poor thing, but truthfully he just found them so entirely adorable.

“How could I say no?” nodding before looking out the only window of the mausoleum and making contact with the brightening moonlight yet again, this time having to put effort behind it as he scooched closer to Onyx, bare chests touching, Zeroh’s head comfortably hovering over top the other’s, Onyx was met with a strong chest. They looked up, resting their chin upon it to witness the happenings above their head.

The reaper’s head tilted back, his mouth fell open and out it came. “Hh’TTSsCh’uu! Huh’Tssch’hHIEW!” his whole form flexed and clenched around Onyx, the ghost had taken a hold of each of O’s biceps, gripping them tightly to feel them constrict as he blew. The little ghost shuddered with delight, the sounds of sneeze echoing inside their brain chamber, rattling around like soon to be rot that would consume them. A fine mist fell behind them, tickling and trickling down Yix’s back.

“Wow…” was all the little ghost could muster up, a smile breaking out on their face as they leaned back against the coffin, reveling in the innocent intimacy of the moment. Zeroh chuckled softly at Onyx's reaction, following closely by climbing on top of them, a warmth spreading through him at the sight of the ghost's genuine enjoyment. He settled over the spirit, drinking in their form, both of them now in various states of undress but feeling more connected than ever before. The moonlight bathed them in a soft glow, casting shadows that danced across their intertwined forms.

Zeroh's heart swelled with a mixture of emotions as he gazed down at Onyx, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. The air was charged with electricity, a palpable tension that seemed to draw them closer together. As their eyes met in the dim light of the crypt, Zeroh felt a surge of lust that had long been dormant inside him.

Without a word, he lowered his head, capturing Onyx's lips in a fevered kiss that spoke of longing and passion. The ghost responded eagerly, their hands roaming over Zeroh's body with a hunger that matched his own. In that instant, all doubts and fears melted away, leaving only the raw, unbridled need that pulsed between them.

Their bodies moved together in a seamless dance of desperate need, each touch sending sparks flying through the air. Zeroh's hands trailed down Onyx's sides, fingers tracing patterns on the ghostly skin that seemed to glow beneath his touch before meeting the hem of their briefs, pulling at them before breaking their kiss, pushing their foreheads together lovingly. He tried to catch his breath but still his words came out almost muted. “S’okay? You…’re okay?” not a moment the Reaper didn’t want the ghost to feel uncomfortable.

Their voice quivered uncontrollably as they struggled to catch their breath, the overwhelming sensation of arousal coursing through their veins. With every word, their voice cracked and faltered, overcome by the sheer intensity of the moment. "Yes...keep going," they managed to stammer out, each syllable dripping with a need and hunger that was unlike them. The air was thick with anticipation as they awaited the next move from their partner, their body trembling with excitement and yearning.

Their breaths mingled in the stagnant air of the mausoleum, creating a fog of passionate lust that enveloped them both. The reaper’s hands shook with anticipation as he continued to explore Onyx's ethereal form, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. The ghost arched into his caresses, a low moan escaping their lips as pleasure coursed through their slender body.

Feeling emboldened by Onyx's response, he let his hands wander further, sliding down to grasp the ghost's hips possessively. Onyx gasped at the touch, their form shimmering in the moonlight as they surrendered to the Reaper's embrace. The connection between them crackled with a raw intensity, each movement bringing them closer to the edge of something wild and untamed.

As their passions continued to ignite, O felt a desperate surge push through him as he wrapped both his hands now tenderly around the back of Ony's thighs, lifting them, he sat back on the coffin, still between the legs he was lifting a mere few inches. “I want you, Onyx, in every way possible, for eternity, would that be, alright?” he asked cautiously, but still, with an aura of confidence as he kissed down the ghost’s thin legs.

“Absolutely, Zeroh, I’m already yours,” the ghost whispered hoarsely. The larger grinned, like a kid in a candy shop kissing down the spirit’s legs with adoring excitement, he felt a shiver run down his spine at Onyx's words. He looked up at the ghost's face, their eyes shining with admiration and all the same, hunger. A spark spread through him at the thought of spending eternity with the apparition, and he knew that he would do anything to make that a reality.

With a renewed sense of grounding, Zeroh reached downward to his own boxers, pulling them down to reveal his hardened cock and slickening his palm with a mouthful of saliva. “You’re sure you want this? You want me?” he prepped himself accordingly, positioning himself between Onyx’s trembling thighs, they nodded, biting their lower lip nervously but with excitement, their hands reached up to grasp the reaper by his forearms.

“I want you, I want to be yours, I want you to be mine….please, Zeroh..” the ghost almost begged, and it was enough for the ethereal to have mercy, sliding himself comfortably inside of Ony’s tight entrance. They both took their time adjusting as the reaper made his way the full hilt, they each took a deep breath in, and the spirit moaned involuntarily with a surprising ecstasy that overflowed them. The reaper’s hands on either side of Onyx’s head now, the ghost wrapping their leg’s tightly around his waist.

“Shhhh…it. It’s been awhile, Ha~ ..you feel really good…” O admitted, the vulnerability of their actions hung in the air like a thick blanket around them. Slowly, thoughtfully, the reaper began to slip back out, only mid way before, tenderly back in.

The air in the crypt was thick with the scent of ancient stone and the mingled musk of their bodies as they moved in unison, their souls intertwined in a dance as old as time itself. Oh’s blueish white eyes locked with Onyx's, the intensity of their affections and desires for one another, reflected back in the other's gazes. The ghost's body writhed beneath him, a symphony of pleasure and pain, their breaths echoing in the silent chamber like the cries of a thousand long-lost souls. “Zeroh~” the spirit whimpered in pleasure as their body was claimed.

Movements became more fervent, their bodies undulating like two waves crashing into one another, creating a tide of passion that threatened to consume them both. As their hips met with a rhythm that was both primal and divine, Zeroh brought his fingers down, tracing delicate patterns on Onyx's skin, leaving behind trails of light that danced in the moonbeams pouring through the dusty window. “My name on your lips…don’t ever cry for another…I could die over and over hearing that sound, and I know it’ll…” he paused, shoveling himself back inside “lead me to salvation…” he huffed through clenched teeth before pushing down and finding their lips again.

Time seemed to lose all meaning as they continued to move, each thrust more deliberate and passionate than the last. Despite the urgency of their passion, they took their time, savoring the feel of each other's bodies as hands made magic as though it might be their last chance to experience this earthly pleasure.

Zeroh's movements grew more frantic, he could feel the ghost beneath him begin to tremble in anticipation of their union. Each time he thrust into Onyx, he could feel himself getting closer to the brink, their bodies humming with electricity as they danced on the razor's edge of climax. Mouths still clashing and melting together like two pieces of chocolate in a wrapper on a hot day.

With a gasp, Onyx's body stiffened beneath him, their eyes rolling back into their head as they arched their back in pure unadulterated ecstasy. Zeroh watched closing while the spirit was coming undone, spurting out from their length over their chests, and he tried to hold back his own orgasm, savoring the sight of the ghost finding pleasure for the first time in, possibly ever, and with a final thrust, Zeroh's own climax washed over him. His seed spilling forth into the ghost's body as their souls seemed to meld together. The air was thick with raw passion and the scent of their mingled fluids, mixing with the musty odor of the ancient crypt.

As they lay there, clinging to one another, Zeroh couldn't help but wonder what the future held for them. Would they be together forever? Could they find a way to be together should Onyx ever pass over? Or would this be just a fleeting moment of passion, a memory etched into their beings? Would they pretend this never happened? They couldn’t…the electricity…the raw passion between them was too palpable.

He brushed a lock of Onyx's hair from their forehead, tracing the lines of their ethereal face with his fingers. For a moment, they were silent, lost in their own thoughts, but then O whispered softly into his ear. “Could we have forever? You think?” the reaper asked, almost with a shaken voice. The ghost tightened their arms around him, comforting him.

“We can,” Onyx whispered back, the sincerity in their voice resonating through the cold stone chamber, enough to give the Reaper the assurance neither of them could really promise. He could feel Onyx's breathing slowing, and their body starting to steady as they began to drift back down from the heights of passion.

As they lay intertwined, still basking in the afterglow of their passions, Zeroh's mind raced with a flurry of thoughts. The possibilities that had just opened up before him were overwhelming, and he found himself lost in them. For so long, he had believed that Sebastian was his one true love, the end all be all of feelings and emotions. But then this little apparition appeared, floating into his life like an unexpected arrow piercing straight through his heart.

Slowly, they started to disentangle themselves from each other, “Should clean ourselves up…we could…continue distributing the flowers to the empties if you’d like?” The reaper offered as they slowly climbed down from the stone coffin, O helping the smaller down with a steady hand.

“I’d love that,” Yixxy smiled back at him, hopping down and helping him sort through their mess of clothes.

“And face the gloat of a match making bird as well…” Zeroh chuckled breathily, running a hand through his slightly dampened and sweaty locks.

“Oh? Did Amara have something to do with your approach tonight?” Onyx looked up from getting dressed to meet the Reaper’s gaze with a raised brow.

“She might have…been the courage I needed yes,” they both shared a gentle laugh, the sound echoing off the crypt walls, the two gathered their things, got dressed and reemerged from the mausoleum, content to enjoy the rest of their night in the company of each other.

The End

Author’s Notes: Idk if it’s cause I spent literally 24 hours writing this piece, or my brain is fried but I feel like I probably could have done better on this 🤣 Ugh they’re so cute I just want to make sure it’s done justice! 🥲🥲 hope yall enjoy! It was fun writing 🫶🏻

#oc #original character #writer #fic writer #snzblr #snz kink #snz #snz ocs #snzfucker #snzzzzz #snz oc #snzkink #snzfet #snz fucker #snz fet #ZerOnyx

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missizzy · 4 months ago

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Narrative Interlude: Ardor(Baldur's Gate, Gale/Tav, Rated M)

(Takes place in the universe of my first playthrough, where I've now entered Moonrise Towers, and my Tav bedded Gale right after.)

The rush of ecstasy faded, but as Sara collapsed on top of Gale, she still couldn't stop kissing him. Kissed his mouth, his jaw, his chin, his neck. The mark of the orb lay there in front of her eyes, and the grief and fear that filled her at the sight of it sent her laying more kisses down and around his chest as his breathing started to slow, each kiss harder than the last. Each kiss only further fueled the feelings tangling themselves up inside her, everything that it meant to love this man.

This man, who she now thought had had her almost from the moment she first pulled him out of that crevasse, and he'd smiled at her like that. Who, on some days, had made her think he was making her fall more in love with him with every word he said. Who at one point she thought she'd never have, unable to believe that a man who'd had a literal goddess could truly want a woman like her, who couldn't even get through a simple magic lesson without mangling the words hopelessly. Who'd refuted those fears with words upon words, even as he'd kept her waiting, even after he could've had her without exploding, and she sort of understood why, but she'd still been so afraid. But now…

She'd been worried, at the start of this, that she might overwhelm or scare him, with the intensity of her passion for him. But he'd met it with a passion for her to match. Things had been a bit awkward at first, his hands clumsy and shaking. But the fervour of his kisses, his unabashed eagerness, the way he'd groaned with his head between her legs, his words, oh, his words; Sara had never been showered by so many words of praise and adoration in her entire life. To say nothing of the way he gazed up at her, awe giving way to heat, when she'd first lowered herself down and taken him inside her, how he'd struggled to keep looking into her eyes even as she'd taken him to pieces.

He had made her feel more loved than anyone she else she had bedded in a very long time. Maybe since her wife had died, now over thirty years ago.

It was all still rushing through her. It was almost too much. Sara felt a couple of tears slip down her face and onto his skin.

The touch of them to his skin seemed to bring Gale out of the daze she'd left him in. A hand took her chin and gently nudge it upward to look up into his worried face. "Sara? Are you all right? Have I done something wrong?"

"Oh, Gale," she sighed, and pulled herself back up to kiss his mouth again. He pulled her down as he kissed back, the two of them trying to wrap themselves back around each other.

"You are exquisite," he gasped up at her, when they finally came back up for breath. "I could spend all of eternity making love to you." But then he groaned, and this one was clearly a noise of discomfort. "I think I might have even overdone it."

That made it her turn to be anxious, as she asked, "Did I hurt you?" She could see already the marks she'd left on him, with her mouth and her nails, ones she'd wanted to put on him, honestly, and he'd happily consented in the moment, but maybe she had gone too far.

"Oh, I imagine we'll both be a little sore in the morning." He actually chuckled. "But I'd do it all again. Besides," he added, his voice dropping a little, "I suspect when we get back to camp, we'll both be drinking a bit. I'm just glad I got you here before you drunk too much."

That was true. They'd all arrived back at camp without appetites and with the need to chug some alcohol. A few hours trying to impersonate followers of the Absolute at Moonrise Towers would do that. Sara was feeling much better at the moment, obviously, but she wasn't entirely sure how long that would last.

Gale shifted under her, and Sara carefully pulled herself off him. "Hope you don't mind the mess," she felt the need to comment, when she saw the mix of their fluids she'd left behind.

"I would make us some towels," he said. "Except I kind of feel like that's admitting we're done for tonight, and I know we probably should be, but…"

She looked his body over, even as he moved back into her arms to cuddle. "If you don't have any more in you…" she started.

"I have more I want to do."

"So do I," she rejoined. "And while you certainly ate your fill of me, I haven't even gotten a taste of you yet. So if you can't get it up again tonight, well, that just means we're going to have to do this again."

Gale's eyes went a little wide at that, and his cheeks turned very red. Sara gave in to the urge, leaning in and giving his lips another light kiss. It had been a long time for her here, too, to have a sweet little moment like this, and immediately understand, underneath it, how precious a moment it was.

She wrapped them up in the blanket, reminding herself that it probably didn't matter if it got dirty, and waited until they were settled down before continuing, "And while this was what I wanted for tonight, I would be willing to try what you suggested, with the Weave, I mean." Had she been more certain there would be a second time, she might have even agreed to it that night. But even the whole thing the orb aside, she was determined to at least try to free the prisoners in Moonrise the next day, which would put them in the most dangerous position they'd been in yet. It had felt more important, for what might very well be their only night together, to have what she'd known would be real, what she'd known would give her what she'd craved with Gale.

"If we reach another time when I can, certainly," Gale agreed. "If I'd been more confident of having more time, I might not even have proposed it yet. I certainly understand why that might not have been the most comfortable prospect for you. It wasn't for me, the first time, and it was much smaller a leap for me than it would've been for you."

"Wait, what?" It was Sara's turn, now, to turn Gale's face to her own, to show her alarm. "Gale, were you…pushed…like that?"

"Not like that," he said, maybe a touch too quickly. "Or at least, I suppose, not any more than any student of the Weave is typically pushed; I'd already done things that had unnerved me far more."

Sara wasn't even sure what she thought of that. "Well," she said, "I hope you weren't too disappointed. I'm sure it's…"

But before she could find the right word to finish that, Gale said, oh so quietly, "But that's just it. You know, Mystra used to disparage this sort of thing. 'Crude mortal rutting,' she called it, which means I called it that, too, because who was I to disagree with her? But….well, someone help me, because I feel like I'm committing blasphemy saying this, but…I think this, here? Was the best lovemaking I've ever experienced in my life."

"The best?" Sara repeated dumbly, her mind already reeling from the implications of what else he'd just said. "But…but you said…sensations beyond…"

"Oh, the actual pleasure…well, it's more different than anything else. Enough so that it's harder to make a direct comparison to this than you might think. But that's not…I mean…I meant…" She watched him grope for words, which was something in itself, that he needed to do that, to explain this.

"It's just…" he finally managed, "…you were more here. You were so passionate. You gave so much of yourself to me. And how it made me feel, what it made me do….you know, if you'd have asked me an hour ago if I'd ever felt like I had to hold back with Mystra, I would've said no, of course not. But now? I don't think I could've ever dared unleash with her like that. I didn't even know I had that in me. I suppose maybe we both could've done the same in the Weave, but, well, I certainly wouldn't have blamed you if you found that harder. I think it probably was better to do it this way."

Sara thought of her wife, and also of a couple of the lovers she'd had before her, and how much she'd taken for granted every single time she'd lain with them. Of course sex didn't always have that kind of intimacy, that kind of freedom, and you didn't always need it, but the thought that Gale had truly never had it, not even with the one he'd devoted himself to…

How many things in life had Gale never had? She didn't even know, really. And what he had had, the Weave that he had loved the most about his life, she was starting to think he'd often not had on his own terms.

That was enough to make her seize his head with both her hands, and hiss at him, "Gale, you have to live. You can't die now. Not like this. Not when there's so much for you to have, so much for you to do. So many choices you can finally make, because I'm betting you've never really made them, have you? You can't give that all up now, not when you're so close to having it." Then, because she feared it would sway him more than what she'd just said, she added, "And also, I can't stand the thought of losing you like that!"

For a moment she thought he might insist she was wrong, or even get angry at her. But he just looked at her, all too sad and not a little incredulous, and just asked, "Oh, Sara, how can you possibly love me this much?"

Such a pathetic man. Z'rell's words from earlier that day involuntarily ran through Sara's head. She didn't know what she was talking about, Sara reminded herself. There wasn't any need to heed the words of someone who would kill a loyal guard just to demonstrate her power.

Sara doubted even all the alcohol she'd be drinking when they got back to camp would erase the memory of seeing that ogre fall dead, the victim of she herself asking Z'rell to demonstrate her power. No fight, no honor, no chance. And she couldn't even be sorry for what she'd done, any more than she could regret killing those unfortunate minions in front of Thorm, because they were all minions they now wouldn't have to worry about tomorrow, or after that.

They hadn't really stood a chance either, those she had told to fight her for their lives. Sara had already been noticing that she and her companions had been steadily getting stronger, and more powerful. And she had also been getting harder, and more ruthless.

And now, she looked at Gale, felt so much tenderness fill her, bathed in the warmth in his eyes, and simply replied, "How could I possibly not love you this much, when I look at you, and find you like this?"

For a moment those eyes closed, and she didn't know if he was going to say something further or not. Then he murmured, almost to himself, "Have I been so blind? All these years…"

And then he was kissing her again, fiercely on the mouth, and then all around her face, and when he rolled her onto her back she felt the heat rise up in her loins again; apparently she did have at least one more round in her. "You are…" he said, "I need to say…I don't know…"

"We'll talk about it in the morning," she managed to get out, because she didn't think she'd get any more words together at all right now, especially since she was feeling his body stir again against hers.

"Good idea," he agreed, before nipping against her ear, with "You were wrong, you know, when you said I'd eaten my fill of you. I could never get my fill of you."

He made no protest though, when she pushed forward to flip them over, and once again hovered over him. "Be that as it may," she said to him, "it's my turn first," and she began kissing her way down his chest.

#baldur's gate 3 #barbarian tav #gale x tav #gale dekarios

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mgg-81 · 3 years ago

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Of Torn Ropes [O.SH]

(CREDITS TO THE OWNER OF THIS PHOTO: L'OFFICIEL HOMMES MAGAZINE)

A/N’s NOTE: I found this playlist in Youtube concerning the likes of Amy and Laurie from Little Women and I got hit immediately with the feels. I've also thought about Ga-on and Soo-hyun from The Devil Judge (go watch it if you haven't!) in their final moments together and thought why not combine the two and this was the result. Hugest of thank you's to @bookishcatto for reading this. This one-shot is dedicated to ma'am @enaasteria because her stories are absolutely gorgeous and link to her masterlist can be found in my fiction recommends here.

ANOTHER NOTE: I think I'll write my stories based on which seems fitting for the story which is either "You", "She/Her", "GN! Reader" or "OC" and it's not always going to be a "You" or "Y/N" version. Also, throw a tomato at me if this one-shot is cringy AF or something LMAO.

Genre: Angst

Ratings and Warnings: PG

Characters: Oh Sehun X Hwang Yoori (Cop!OC)

Word Count: 1,636

Date of Publication: 31-12-2021

“WHAT?”

The thin line of agony and anger snapped at the thunderous slamming of her hands as boiling silence engulfed the two of them. They were at the meeting of their eyes, never swerving to the left nor the right. Those orbs of hers, those lovely visions of expression of hers were now like extinguished flames while he was of a deer caught in the headlights. The air surrounding them was so dry it might have probably cracked everything in them.

Or furthermore fissured her already lacerated heart.

Glassy eyes scrunched eyebrows, and almost bleeding lip from too much biting in holding back, the aching pound of Hwang Yoori’s heart against her chest was beginning to be taken over by fear. The danger was not evident in their zone yet her veins were almost made out of cement from the tension. She let out a controlled yet shaking breath as she refined the words that emanated from Oh Sehun’s mouth before she might explode in tiredness.

“You heard me,” his voice was firm yet at the end was pleading like a child’s.

She sat back from her chair, a scoff passing her lips as her fingers kept brushing on her short disheveled hair. This was at the moment and it was truly happening as if it was a novel of her favorite that came to life and relayed its message in this chapter of her being. Sehun…loves her?

Yoori looked back into Sehun’s features again; face hoping, lips pursing whilst waiting. This was the man she adoringly gave her heart for so long, the cause of her sadness and happiness, the cause of her downfalls and uprisings, and now, the cause of her topical heartache. Wasn’t this what she wanted all along? To hear those three words she never thought would be aimed at her at him?

But alas, dreams, while they are sweet, some are bitter.

And they must end as she wakes up.

“Fuck you,” she said sternly.

Sehun’s eyebrows raised at the confusion in her words. He was about to retaliate and support his statement but she raised a hand to halt him.

“Fuck you, Oh Sehun,” Yoori repeated. “Do you think this is all a bluff?”

“Please, listen—”

“I’ve been listening!” she clenched her fists to keep herself from repeating on hitting the table. “At all times! I always listen to you; your rants, your dreams, your thoughts and ideas, and most especially your love for her! But this? THIS? Sehun…you’re mean.”

“Yoori,” Sehun tried to reach for her hand, but she quickly slipped it away. “I love you, always have been. You were always—”

“If you love me,” she gritted between her teeth. “You shouldn’t have always come to me about her."

Yoori saw Sehun’s jaw shut tight, which she saw as a cue for her to continue. “Have you ever thought what I’ve felt all these years? I had to keep on carrying you despite the growing pain in me. That yes, I may be here with you but your focus…is on her.”

“And I’m tired,” tears were threatening to spill from her eyes. “I’m sick of picking you up in ungodly hours, drinking away. I’m tired of how you came to meet me only because of your heartaches. And I'm wary of the fact that you're so unfair. That out of nowhere, my best friend just told me he loved me just because he didn't get her.”

Sehun quickly stood from where he sat, his long lower limbs taking two steps before kneeling in front of Yoori like he was praying for some miracle to happen between them as his warm hands cupped her delicate face, their foreheads touching each other.

“I’m sorry,” Sehun’s eyes were watery as he sniffled. “I’m so sorry. Please…forgive me. Please, let me make it up to you. Please, don’t disappear from my life. Please.”

Please. It was one word yet it made Yoori feel weak again for him, but the daggers that were plunged in her chest made her realize it was now the time for her to pull it all out, letting her heart slowly heal from the pain.

“I love you, Sehun,” Yoori finally muttered while feeling Sehun’s thumbs caressing her cheeks. “I love you always but…I’m done. As much as I’ve been waiting to hear those three words from you, it all seems so…dull.”

Dull indeed.

That’s what Oh Sehun felt right now.

Nothing was making sense to him as if his head was reaching for something he could not comprehend. It all happened too quickly in the blink of an eye like a stream that swiftly passed by him. Blasts of sirens here and there that were rounded up like loose animals were muffled away from his hearing while his surroundings were faded into nothing but black and white.

Along with all he could ever see right now was crimson as thick pools of the color were sticking to the ground, to his shirt, and his hands.

And to her.

Her.

Yoori!

He stared dumbfounded. His hands trembled while looking all over Hwang Yoori, desperate to where he should place his palms just to stop the bleeding, to stop everything, to stop the horror that grew before his eyes. Eventually, he placed it where the actual gunshot wound was, hovering over her hand. The shock was not the word that fit what he was experiencing. He was ashen, lips trembling.

“Y-Yoori…” he stuttered. She can only gaze at him as she lay in his arms like a doll.

“Shh….” Yoori gasped and winced. “Y-you…are…o-okay.”

“N-no…” Sehun looked up and down her body. “Yoori…”

Sehun’s manner was disoriented; he kept holding back his sobs while glancing at her face and up around their environment; almost nobody was there except the two of them, save for a few who were held in their frozen states.

How the hell did they end up to this?

A presidential event where EXO was invited.

Turned into a horrific attempted assassination incident with a bomb on the loose.

Her clasping his hand, her sole concern was him.

Just the two of them.

Away from aid and surrounded by perpetrators.

Sudden running…

Guns firing…

Her pushing him to the ground…

Bullets flying…

Yoori suddenly falling to her knees.

Clutching her right side and chest.

Him shouting at her.

More guns erupting from afar…

Him reaching her….

Sehun immediately looked down at the fading body he held; Yuri's eyes fluttered up at him, trying to see him. Her form shook in pain as if a thousand syringes were plummeted in her skin, her hand pressing against where the blood continued to ooze out of her while she breathed heavily in panic.

Yoori hazily lifted her shaking hand, steadily brushing her fingers against his cheek which received a cut from the glasses that spread throughout the vicinity.

“F-Fuck…” she still managed to laugh. “Y-you…got a c-cut here...ah.”

She shut her eyes and grimaced as Sehun clasp her soaked shirt, and he felt like shit; his best friend was in the line between life and death, still having the audacity to save him despite everything that conspired to the two of them.

And he felt nothing but remorseful as he’s incapable of providing anything to her at the moment.

“P-please,” Sehun choked. “W-we…we h-have to stop the b-bleeding. S-stay…s-stay with m-me baby, please.”

Tears flooded Sehun’s eyes as he tried to keep himself together for her sake. His heart felt like it was twisted and crushed to a pulp, wishing he had been the one shot instead of her. His body flew from stiff to mere actions and having more blood of hers in his hands got him to nowhere. Sehun knew that this was an almost everyday scenario for Yoori on account of the fact she became a woman of law and order. What he wasn’t prepared for was to have this kind of scenario happen right in front of him.

“W-why…” Yoori started. “S-stop...don’t c-cry…”

Sehun pay heed to her as she inhaled and exhaled deeply, her eyes threatening to shut down. The coldness of the night was creeping up to her as blood continued to rush out as Sehun tried to talk to her to keep her awake. He frantically hoisted his head to check the encircling, surveying for anyone possible to help them as he hauled Yoori in his arms more properly.

“Yoori…” Sehun whispered her name, attempting to keep a smile. “W-we’re going to…b-be o-okay, y-yes? P-paramedics may b-be here s-soon…”

Despite his aim to put up a brave front for Yoori, it soon faltered as her eyes were only halfway from open, and she eye him intently. Sehun took ahold of her hand gently moving towards his hand, firmly grasping it.

“Sehun…” Yoori wheezed. “I…I c-can’t hold…any l-longer…”

“No!” Sehun yelled as he shook his head. “H-help will b-be h-here! T-they’ll….they’ll c-come soon! P-please! We’ll b-be a-alright! Yoori—”

“I-I…love y-you.”

He froze.

“S-Sehun…” Yoori panted as if her breathing had already amounted to a small-sized helium balloon about to pop. “I love you.”

His world frailly crumbled as Yoori’s hand lost its seize of his fist as her head tilted backward in his arms.

With her eyes now closed.

Moments later, shouts and footsteps were heard coming, revealing members of the Seoul Metropolitan Agency and the Special Operations Unit, their guns and other aid holding out. They ceased and halted their steps at the scene that unfolded before them. Blood was everywhere that came from its root which was Yoori’s now lifeless form. One of the men who entered stepped up, his expression glum as he raised his walkie-talkie.

"Commander," he said "Lieutenant Hwang Yoori...she's now gone."

And it was followed by the gut-wrenching wails of Sehun who lost someone so dear.

#exo #sehun #exowritersnet #sehun x oc #sehun imagines #sehun scenarios #sehun angst #sehun fic #sehun fanfic #sehun one shot #sehun au #oh sehun #exo sehun #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #exo imagines #exo scenarios

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windblooms · 4 years ago

Text

childe scenario – after the golden house

you, an ex-fatui executive, decide against your better judgment and tend to the wounds of the near-dead 11th harbinger following his duel at the golden house. spoilers for the 1.1 archon quest.

gender-neutral reader. enemies to lovers soft spot syndrome. sfw, but contains mentions of blood/injury. also childe briefly in foul legacy armor. canon-divergence. 2669 words (nice).

with the fatui’s nails so deep into the city, staying in liyue probably wasn’t your brightest idea in retrospect.

you blame your sentimentality of liyue on the exact same thing that caused you to leave the fatui in the first place: wanting to live without fear. while the fatui treated you well enough, as you were considerably efficient in your ranks, being part of a partially underground, partially illegal business wasn’t exactly the most liberating practice either. it didn’t take long for you to realize that, behind their scheming and pretenses of fair economics, the fatui would have their underlings wound so incredibly tight around their fingers that their violent tasks would rapidly become suffocating.

that is, once you were in the fatui, getting out would be akin to scaling qingyun peak with one arm tied behind your back.

the only reason you were able to? because you ran. you were desperate for a new life, sure, but also you weren’t below realizing when something was out of the question. it took a few months to shake them off your trail, having to move constantly between fontaine and mondstadt, but you finally settled in liyue.

it was a quiet, peaceful city. the governing body was fair enough with its jurisdictions, and after a year of hiding, you were able to enjoy the lantern rite festival without fear.

that is, until the northland bank sat its obnoxious ass down the street.

archons, really, once you found a place you thought was safe enough, you’d have to start moving again. initially, you reasoned that it had been over a year, and that the fatui surely wouldn’t go hunting for a runaway executive. hell, you weren’t even that high on the ladder. however, a few run-ins with scaramouche and pulcinella had left you paranoid enough that, if they spotted you, they would surely put an end to your traitorism.

honestly, you should’ve ratted them out to the knights of favonius while you were in mondstadt. make a quick bargain, have jean toss a few coins your way, and you would be set. it would’ve definitely been worth the trouble, now with the knowledge that the fatui were your neighbors.

now, there’s no time to dwell on what you could’ve done. it’s either run again, or hold your ground right under the fatui’s nose. you might, sort of, maybe, probably do not have the funds to move for the third time in a row, but maybe counting couldn’t hurt –

no, yeah, it hurts, you grimace as you slide the coin bag back in your bedside drawer. outside, it’s dark, and the sky seems a bit more disturbed than usual. it isn’t usually overcast in liyue, and the blue lightning does nothing to quell your unease. the streets are also empty, but lights illuminate each building.

from your window, a quick glance towards the northland bank reveals to you that it is uncharacteristically dark. no lanterns, no lights. you frown, troubled that the individuals you were so alert to monitoring, had a lifeless stronghold. not typical of them at all.

so, you decide while your long-time enemies are plotting (or whatever they’re doing that prompts them to close an entire bank for), now might be the best time to potentially make a run for it, light coin bag be damned.

hastily, you rid your apartment of personal belongings by unceremoniously shoving them into your bag. if it’s one thing you were grateful for in this world, it’s archon magic. you don’t fuss over the science behind it, but whatever made your bag feel like a bottomless pit was an actual life-saver. packing is extremely efficient with it, and in less than fifteen minutes, you’re ready to go.

all that’s left is to write a thank-you note to the liyuen couple who let you stay while their son was out exorcising. at the time, they assured you that you would be no trouble for you to take up a guest room, but nonetheless you tried to pay them with whatever you had left over after commissions.

you grab a writing utensil, still feeling a bit rude to leave on such short notice, and swear to yourself that you’ll visit in the future. for good measure (after sullenly looking into your coin bag), you leave an acceptable(-ish) amount of mora on your former bed.

all right. now, time to leave, with your foot out the door and wind scratching at your face, as if the odd overhead weather wasn’t already an omen.

you’re barely past liyue harbor, headed towards the luhua pools, when a comet shoots above you past mount tianheng. no, not a comet, you realize as it dips from the sky, headed for landfall around a kilometer away. a comet of water?

if a dead northland bank wasn’t the nail in the coffin, this surely is. you’ve been around enough in the fatui to know that whatever fell from the sky has to be the work of a vision user, or some more powerful being. turning towards where you estimate to be the crash site, you weigh your options. you’re already outside of the city, and the fatui are probably preoccupied. you can manage a detour for now and inspect the hydro-apparition. regardless, you deem that the farther away you are from the water you are, the safer you might be from what’s about to happen – you look back towards liyue harbor, and nearly shudder at the rising tide and choppy waves.

after about fifteen minutes of walking in the rain, you find yourself between the slope of the dunyu ruins and mount tianheng. it’s vacant, save for the weathered ruins, and a sizable crater meters wide. cautiously, you approach the edge, summoning your sword with one hand and conjuring your vision in the other. you’re not going to let curiosity kill the cat, especially not if this turns out to be a prank by the archons.

in the center of the mess is, well, another mess. you blink a few times, wary, as you discern that an individual lies in the rubble. they’re actually conscious, you soon find out, as they righten themselves from the fetal position into a kneel, supporting their body weight with their arms. their body is covered head-to-foot in dark, purple armor, and a red mask with a broken, center orb gleams faintly in the night.

it is only when you the individual looks up at you, straight at your head, do you realize that you should not be here this was a bad idea –

and then they collapse.

“shit,” you murmur to yourself, vision still pulsing in your palm, which has become increasingly sweaty. you step back from the edge as an orb of water surrounds the armored-being, encasing him like a cocoon, before dissipating to reveal a much more vulnerable, tired man underneath. his hair is matted to his face from the rain, yet a much smaller mask rests on his eyes; his clothes are somewhat torn (you suspect that whatever had happened, his armor absorbed most of the damage), and you can very faintly see his chest heave.

but, ah, speaking of his clothes,

they were the colors of the fatui.

“no, no, bad idea,” you tell yourself over and over again, sword put away yet vision still bouncing in your hands. you walk away from the crater briefly, before walking towards it again, peaking down to check on the fallen man, and then scamper back. the whole idea was to run away, not go straight to them, as if you had managed to doom yourself after all.

pacing back and forth, you contemplate for another minute. he’s clearly injured, with how he’s laying on the ground and not moving, so the nice, not-so-hardened part of you wants to help him. if he was a regular civilian, surely you’d already be down there and trying to take him back to liyue and patch him up, but he’s with the enemy. no way someone who can transform into armor is just an underling, so he’s probably someone exceptionally powerful –

“i see you,” a voice comes from the crater, and your vision nearly explodes in your hands from your nerves. summoning your sword quicker than you ever have in your life, you steel yourself towards the bottom of the crater.

except, he’s not holding a weapon to your face, or threatening to skewer you into a million pieces. except, he’s not scowling at you, or demanding you assist him at once before he blows something up.

instead, he’s on his knees. looking up at you with the desperation of a man completely robbed, crippled from something he can’t speak of yet wants to scream about. his eyes, now free from the mask, pierce into you with a vividness that could rival the richest hues of luhua, and archons damn it do you melt.

you melt, and realize you should run away. you melt, all while cursing yourself, that this man might not be so kind as to spare you in the future, when he’s back at his full health. you melt, thinking that, well, you haven’t seen him before, so maybe he doesn’t know who you are either. you melt, even as you extinguish your vision and put away your sword, and slide to the bottom of the crater to lug his limp body back to the top, to the shelter of the ruins, and rummage through your bag for medicine.

he hasn’t said anything for the past ten minutes, and you’re thankful that there’s finally someone from the fatui who can keep their mouth shut, even if this is half-beaten to death. “you’re not dying on me,” you insist, as if your words could will him back to full consciousness. “not when i’m risking my life for someone like you.”

as you work on bandaging his arm, out of the corner of your eye you swear you see his mouth twitch. is he trying to speak? no, you want some silence for a bit longer, but pause as you notice a gash on his torso.

“this is medically consensual, okay?” you wait two seconds to see if he objects, before unbuttoning the lower part of his coat and applying pressure on the wound. the blood has soaked through his clothes, and just as eagerly, seeps into the cloth you’re shoving against it. the man stirs as you continue to clean his wounds, and when his eyes open, you’re too preoccupied with your short supply of towels to notice.

when you’re aware of a gaze on you, however, you turn towards him with a hardened face. you already know what you’re going to say. even if he doesn’t know who you are, you’re going to make it clear that, for your own satisfaction, you won’t help him back to liyue and he’ll have to make the walk himself.

“you were out there,” you say simply, motioning towards the crater with a nod of your head. “i’ll patch you up, but you’ll have to get further help yourself.”

the man with eyes of the deep regards you, but you busy yourself by applying gauze. he’s propped up against a pillar, and you’re crouching at his side. when you’re about finished, only then do you meet his eyes.

he beats you to whatever you’re about to say. “i didn’t think,” he starts, and you’re already frowning, “that you’d come back.”

ah, referencing when you practically left him in the crater. his words are vague enough when he says that you ‘came back’ that you aren’t too tense, and you indulge him in a bit of silence before responding. “not like i’m used to rescuing people who fall from the sky.”

despite his injuries, the man manages a laugh. he seems almost flustered at your statement, although you can’t understand why. underneath his soaked bangs, his eyebrows rise, and he seems almost . . . nervous? you can’t possibly fathom as to why, but dismiss your curiosity. the more small talk he coerces you into, the longer you’ll spend with him.

you finish sealing the gauze, tossing the roll back into your bag before commanding it to disappear. blood has soaked into the ground at his sides, also you’re sure that it’ll was away with time. you’re about to stand up, satisfied with your good-samaritan duties for the day, when he stops you by locking his fingers around your wrist.

he’s in the middle of saying something, but you refuse to let him, drawing your sword and pointing it directly at his throat, his mouth agape as he releases his hold on you. you consider each other, and when you’re certain you have the upper hand, you draw your line.

you spit the words like venom. “do not touch me, fatui. i’ve done what i can for you, and you won’t be getting anything else from me.”

your blade doesn’t lower from his form, and as you stand above him, you regard his hands, as if he might summon his own weapons in an instant. if he’s smart (which you think he is yet simultaneously pray he isn’t), he’s probably plotting how to get out of your sword’s reach. you’re not going to let him, after you’ve been so self-sacrificing, putting your life on the line for someone affiliated with the organization that suffocated the life out of you.

a tilt of the head, yet silence from his mouth. he seems surprised that, while you allowed him to laugh mere moments earlier, you’re now pointing your weapon at him, although something in the ease of his facial features tells you that he’s not concerned in the slightest.

“i wanted to say thank you,” he breathes finally, and you look as if he’d just punched you in the gut. “being in your position probably isn’t easy, and i’m the last one you wanted to see, but you still . . . ”

fuck, no, not this. you don’t know if he’s a prophet, if he knows who you really are, or the ‘i’m on the run’ stamp on your forehead is that obvious, but you aren’t going to fall for the fatui’s words. your fists clench, and you once more prepare to denounce his organization,

and you’re disarmed in an instant, sword thrown to the side and fingers restricted by his larger grasp. archons, you couldn’t even see him move, what a deceptive bastard, feigning injury –

“stop,” he hushes, and despite your fury you register it as a plea, not a command. the man repeats himself, before continuing, “we won’t haunt you any more; i’ll make sure of it.”

five seconds, then ten. you had determined that his grip was too strong to break free of, and are left in no position to move unless he releases you. he holds your gaze without a hint of malice, even though you try your hardest to find any in his eyes.

when he does let go of you, fingers skimming past your flesh, you run faster than you ever have before.

you run, past the ruins, past the harbor, and until you can’t see liyue behind you any more. you run, unable to see a palace fall from the sky and crash into the ocean, and until you’re surrounded by mountains and there’s not a ginkgo tree in sight. you run, unsure if his words are true, but certain that he knows who you are.

you won’t trust him. as you lay on the ground, wheezing to catch the air that’s left your lungs, you once again swear to yourself that you can’t trust the words of the fatui.

as the northland bank lights ignite themselves in welcome of its master, childe presses a hand to his bandaged torso. a spark of your vision lingers between his fingers, and he observes it before it disappears.

he’s already hurt enough people. he heads to the second floor, and erases your name from the fatui files.

#genshin impact #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe scenarios #childe headcanons #hurt comfort #angst #enemies to lovers #childe stans are feral #but im friends with so many of them :^)

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anakinisvaderisanakin · 4 years ago

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Binary Sunset (AU post RotS, Beru Lars gets an unexpected visit and has to make a tough choice regarding her nephew)

“Who are you?”

Beru reared back, attempting to put as much distance as possible between herself whomever this thing was, staring her down with cold dead eyes.

“I have come for my son,” the figure said, its voice deep and monotone and distinctly male.

Glancing behind herself into the sleeping quarters of the homestead, she saw that the infant child was still asleep in his cradle. She made sure not to give away his location, but when she turned her attention back to the intruder, her heart was already sinking. He had not moved. In fact, he might have been taken for a statue, had it not been for the loud wheezing breaths of a respiratory device of some kind. The man bore a cape, as black as the uniform full body suit and armour covering him. It danced in the twilight wind, as the two suns glowed behind him like red orbs. Their intense heat seemed insignificant, compared to the burning hatred Beru could feel from the man’s covered eyes.

“I don’t know your son.”

“Is that so.”

His mask gave nothing away, stoic, resembling a human skull. His words seemed a statement, rather than a question, as if he was making a mental note of her defensiveness. Tall, broad shouldered, menacing. Beru hoped she came off as genuine, but when he took a step towards her, she felt the primal urge to run inside, grab the child and flee.

“There is a child in your sleeping quarters,” said the man, after a long, chilling silence despite the sunlight still spilling in orange hues over the sand dunes. “He is not yours.”

“He is!” Beru heard herself growl, shocked by how possessive she had become of the little one in such a short span of time. “He is mine!”

“He is not. You may have taken him in as next of kin, but he is not yours to claim.”

Beru clenched her jaw, throwing a quick glance over her shoulder at the cradle. He was still blissfully unaware, swept in a soft duvet as he cooed in his sleep. Even over the persisting hissing of the intruder’s breathing, she focused on the child.

Luke. Precious little Luke, destined for so much more than life as a poor moisture farmer. Face set hard, Beru made sure to place herself in the middle of the doorway, just outside the threshold. She would not back down, whatever that decision would entail. The ex-Jedi who had delivered him might have grander plans, plans this stranger might be involved with, but she wanted the boy safe. On Tatooine, if he was taught to fend for himself, to steer clear of Jawas, Tusken raiders and womp rats, he might become an ordinary young man some day. Without the mystical sorcery his father had fallen prey to luring him in.

“He is mine. We have adopted him, we are his only living relatives. He has no one else.”

Beru hoped she sounded genuine to the menace, hoped she was appealing to some sort of sympathy or compassion behind the threatening visage. When he spoke, his tone was even deeper than before, a rumble rivalling that of any fully grown krayt dragon.

“Do not lie to me,” he warned, and moved so suddenly Beru couldn’t help but gasp in mixed horror and startlement.

But all he did was raise one arm, letting the open palm hover midair, facing the woman’s face. She blinked, confusion seeping in - and then her head exploded from within. She flinched, as a sharp pain ground its way into her temples. The ache travelled down her spine, a loud ringing in her ears overpowering any senses as her vision went bright white - shutting out both the mysterious visitor and the binary sunset. She whimpered, her own hands flying up to cover her ears. She wanted to scream, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes as she thought what felt like an ice pick being drilled right through her brain.

And then, it was gone. As if it had never been there to begin with. Unable to control her sobs, her legs gave out beneath her and she sank to the ground. She panted, terrified of the man before her, of the agonizing headache returning. She could not explain it, but there was no doubt in her mind that the two were connected. The stranger had hurt her without laying a finger on her, if he was able to do that, what else was he capable of? If she had been wary before, now she was terrified.

“I - I am… not lying,” she managed to whisper, voice hoarse and unsteady.

“No. You are not.”

Surprisingly, the man agreed as he let his hand fall to his side. A wave of relief washed over Beru, but she was not prepared to build her hopes up that he may show her mercy and leave her and Luke alone. Luke needed to stay here, for his own safety. The Jedi had promised her he would keep them safe, and she had promised to love Luke as her own son. That meant defending him as if he were.

“You are not lying. You know only what Kenobi has taught you.”

Beru wiped her face with her sleeve as best she could, hoisting herself into an upright position with one hand pressed to the clay wall by her side. She clung to it for support, but through her watery eyes she saw that the stranger seemed more resolute, his stance more determined. She trembled, but stood her ground.

“I won’t speak of it. Not to you. Not to anyone. He warned us of strangers.”

“Kenobi is a liar and a traitor to the Empire, as are all Jedi. Would it be beneath an attempted murderer to lie?”

The stranger’s voice bore the same, mechanical character but it was sharper now, like a bark. Beru felt the hatred from before had returned, but didn’t seem to be directed at her. The way the man said ‘Kenobi’ revealed everything about whom the loathing was aimed at.

“I don’t understand,” the woman shook her head, cold sweat still soaking her forehead and she wiped her brow with her sleeve.

“He told you the child has no living relatives, did he not?”

Beru’s eyes widened, before suspicion crept back in. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, willing herself to restrain herself from shedding any more tears. Even though she was still breathless, still shivering, still afraid.

“I never said it was him,” she settled for, as her retort.

“I am warning you to play along, or I may need to apply different methods to assure your complacency,” was the reply, and the man raised his hand again.

The threat was enough, and Beru shook her head vehemently, arms coming up to shield herself from another head splitting, intrusive mental assault. What she had assumed before was true, he had been controlling whatever power had tormented her senses. How? Why? Nothing made sense, but she believed him and that was enough.

“You are wiser than most. Fetch the child.”

“What?” the woman croaked, all the blood draining from her face as the intent behind the demand hit her.

“Fetch. The. Child,” he repeated, this time using his raised arm to point his finger at the doorway.

Only a sliver of pink and orange sunlight remained on the horizon. Owen wouldn’t be back in several hours. Beru hesitated, unwilling to comply, but found she could not resist. She could either obey, or protest and get herself killed. The stranger would take Luke away either way, she already knew that.

Stubborn tears welled back up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she slipped back into the primary living area of their homestead. Passing through another low doorway, she approached the cradle cautiously. She didn’t want to wake the child, didn't want to frighten him. Hushing him, or perhaps herself and her own soft sniffles, she picked the little bundle up. Beru made sure Luke was neatly wrapped in his duvet as she cradled him to her chest, rocking her arms gently when it seemed he might wake up. She breathed a sigh of relief when he settled back down, cooing and letting out a soft snore. Swallowing hard, Beru kept her head low and kept her gaze steady on the blonde tuft of hair on Luke’s head where it stuck out from underneath his pajamas.

Not until she had crossed the threshold, relying solely on her periphery and memory, did she tear her eyes away from the infant. The intruder hadn’t moved an inch, the now chilly, crisp air biting at Beru’s tears streaked cheeks. When she spoke, her voice was soft but defiant.

“If you want him, you’ll have to go through me first.”

“It would be foolish of you to presume I wouldn’t,” he simply stated, his tone matter of fact.

“He’s my boy.”

Once again, Beru hoped he had a heart somewhere behind the exterior facade of menace. Beyond those strange, terrifying powers he had displayed.

“He is not. The child belongs with his father,” said the man.

“The child’s father is dead. So is his mother. I and Owen are the only family he has left, he has no one else. He means nothing to you, whoever you are. He means the world to me.”

“Then, we have something in common,” stated the stranger, and it took Beru a tad too long to understand what he meant.

“I… don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this. Not Kenobi, not you,” she felt the weight of realization as something began to dawn on her, but refused to voice it and see it confirmed.

The man shifted then, stalking closer with a couple of long strides. As he moved closer, Beru tipped her head back, staring up at his frightening stature but unwilling to turn away, for fear of what he might do if she lost an ounce of focus. He seemed much more focused on the bundle in her arms, however, and she instinctively held the child closer to her body for protection. The man was huge, towering over her, looming like a hungering predator ready to strike. The lenses of the mask he wore were a deep, crimson red, she noticed now. The colour filled her with dread, entrancing as she watched him peer in what could have come across as stunned silence at the peacefully slumbering infant. One the man’s large, gloved hands came up to reach for the boy, and Beru almost yelped in fear.

But instead of harming Luke with just a look, Beru was shocked to see the man touch the infant’s chubby little cheek with an unearned, unexpected tenderness. It was just a simple, gentle graze of fingertips, and a smile pulled at the corners of the child’s lips. He was still asleep, but he cooed something intelligible, one tiny hand reaching for the stranger’s index finger. The stranger seemed cautious, and Beru almost believed he was concerned, maybe even scared of accidentally hurting the boy.

“Kenobi would rather have you believe the child’s parents had perished,” said the stranger, but his attention was still single handedly on the infant.

“Where else would they be? Kenobi told us the Jedi order had been executed, framed for high treason. He told us Anakin Skywalker died with the rest of his kind.”

“They were not framed, they were the instigators. But I am not here to discuss politics that may result in your immediate execution, and neither should you.”

The threatening note to the man’s voice was back, and Beru pinched her lips tightly together. She knew by now that Luke’s life had never been on the line, not given how carefully the stranger was interacting with the sleeping form. Her life, however, was still in mortal peril - and perhaps Owen’s was, too.

“The fact still stands,” Beru dared to say, bracing herself. “That Anakin is dead, and Luke has no one but us.”

“Luke…”

The name was said so gently, so softly that Beru almost thought she had imagined it. Despite the harsh diction, the flat delivery seemed so genuine and heart felt. Gaze darting between the intruder’s mask, and Luke’s pleased expression as the man let him close his little fist around his finger, the suspicion only grew stronger in its persistence.

“Yes. Luke. His mother named him before she died, Kenobi said. Unless that was another lie,” the woman trailed off.

“She did believe you were a boy,” mused the man, almost wistful as he seemed to be speaking directly to the small child.

Still, the words left an impression. A cold, gnawing sensation settled at the pit of Beru’s belly; clawing its way up into her chest cavity where it remained, desperately grinding from the inside as if attempting to force itself out. There was something eerie and uncanny about the stranger, something distinctly familiar. Familiar, yet foreign. Known, yet unknown. She peered down at the infant in her arms, the love she had developed for the little boy overpowering, overwhelming her. Then, she ignored the alarm bells at the back of her mind, the voices screaming at her to resist the urge. Instead, she slowly held the baby out in front of her, face set hard and throat tight as a lump settled at the base. The ball of tears rose, until her eyes were once more brimming with tears.

The stranger eyed her with what could only be perplexed confusion, as if he was in disbelief that she would entrust him with the child. She remained motionless, as he seemed to be weighing his options. Then, with stilted, jerky motions, he lifted both arms. He reached for the bundle, and with caution as if the boy was made of glass, as if he were so fragile he might break at the simplest touch, the stranger accepted him. The scene was ridiculous; a man looking like the reaper himself had come straight from a galactic battlefield while shielding the very icon of innocence in his grasp.

“You said his Anakin isn’t dead. If he’s alive, then where is he?” Beru said, and the calm, collected manner in which she delivered those words surprised even her.

The stranger said nothing, but he did look at her.

A long, pregnant silence fell as the darkness of night finally settled over the farm, and the Lars’ homestead. Beru wrapped her arms around herself for warmth, blinking back the tears pooling in her eyes. She had wanted him to say it, to verbally verify and confirm what she suspected. It was impossible to deny, as she studied the wonder and amazement with which the stranger regarded Luke. What surprised her most, though, was when he hid the child close against his chest, and held her gaze. She felt his stare burning into her soul, his presence no less imposing than it had been when he first appeared.

Beru found she couldn’t speak. She had nothing to say, and even if she did, it would have made no difference. She understood, and took a step back as she nodded at him, encouraging him with a mournful smile. He was dangerous, that much she could tell. The stranger was vicious, ruthless, and cruel. But he held a tremendous fondness for this child, and in that, Beru could see herself. In that, Beru found the strength to acknowledge that the stranger was, in fact, no stranger at all. Even as he turned his back, cape billowing behind him while he began to trudge through the sand in a direction only he knew where it might lead, Beru was certain that the man would keep Luke safe.

As the man grew smaller in the distance, Beru allowed herself to weep again, watching her nephew disappear into the ice cold desert night. Still, something nagged at her compelled her to make a bargain in turn. Not that she had anything to offer, but she was convinced the man who was not a stranger would be inclined to agree.

“Promise me Luke will be safe with you!”

The intruder halted. Sand whirled around his boots, starlight bouncing off the man’s domed helmet as a gleaming beacon of hope in the darkness. She sensed an odd, reluctant sort of foreboding but stood her ground. He did not speak, but he didn’t have to. She knew the answer and she knew he would not have come this far if he didn’t have the intention to keep the boy out of harm’s way. She didn’t know the man well, never had, but she knew Luke. Shutting her eyes, Beru accepted the silence as the confirmation she had been looking for. She had been left alive, living to tell the tale. She knew he had come to kill her, she didn’t understand how, but somehow it was clear. Somehow, Luke would be okay. The man needed the infant, more than the infant needed him. It was the next right thing to do.

“Thank you, Anakin.”

Beru couldn’t be certain, but something told her Luke had a better chance at the kind of life he was meant for in the hands of his father.

-----------

You all knew where this was going, haha. I did intend to post this as another installment of Mask of Death but I’m not sure I should throw a non-canon compliant chapter in there as all others have been as compliant as fanfics can be. Let me know whether I should make an exception for this one or not!

I’m a sucker for dad!Vader and baby!Luke.

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deans-baby-momma · 3 years ago

Text

FORBIDDEN

Chapter 11

Set in season 14 and follows Y/N, a young girl from the Apocalypse world as she tries to navigate this new place that she was thrust in after being rescued and the feelings she begins to have for someone she really shoudln’t be having them for.

Warnings: There’s a bit of angst, smut and fluff in each chapter. I will tag the smut chapters appropriately but if you’re following me and reading any of my stories, you know it’s gonna be there. LOL

WC: 1433

Y/N’s POV

I wake up to the sensation of pressure in my abdomen. In my foggy state of mind, I think I have to use the bathroom but when I detect movement between my legs, my eyes open and I realize what is happening.

Dean’s tongue is lapping at my center, his morning stubble scratching my inner thighs. My breath hitches as his lips wrap around my clit and begins sucking.

“Dean,” I whisper. “We can’t. Someone might walk in. Stop!”

“Nuh-uh,” he mumbles into my core, shaking his head. Adding a finger to the mix and teasing at my entrance, his ministrations against my clit speed up as he slides the digit into me. I can’t help but moan at the thrill of being fingered and eaten out by the man who I have fantasized about for weeks.

It was finally happening and it was more exhilarating than I could have ever dreamed of! The man sure knew how to use his body to bring pleasure to mine. It was some of the most erotic, steamy sex I’d ever imagined. But it was also passionate and sensual and just downright delightful.

If sex with Dean Winchester was always like this, it’s a wonder there weren’t girls lined up for miles to get a taste!

I could feel the coil in my lower stomach contracting and tensing and I knew that my orgasm was imminent. It felt like I was going to explode.

“Dean I’m going to cum,” I warn him as I place my hand on his head, fingers grasping the longer strands on top.

“Good,” he states, still working over my clit and thrusting,now two, fingers into my body. “Cum for me baby.”

I feel my walls clench, gripping around his fingers. My back arches off the mattress as the band breaks and I feel a gush shoot from my body. Stars dance in my vision as my chest heaves and I come down from my high.

“Fuck!” I gasp, out of breath. Looking down, I see Dean’s green eyes looking at me, a mischievous smile in them. His lips and chin are glistening in the lamplight. He kisses the top of my mound and trails his wet lips up my body, his hands gliding up my sides as he ascends.

Once he gets face to face with me, he leans down and pulls me into a mind-numbing kiss. “Now that’s almost better than bacon for breakfast,” he mumbles, causing me to giggle. “I could eat you out every morning and still want more.”

“Dean,” I say as I pull back reluctantly. “You know that wasn’t just me, right?”

“Huh?” he asks, confusion evident on his face.

“You-uh-you kind of got off inside me last night and-” I pause as I look into his mesmerizing green orbs. “-well I never got that shower I needed. So yea, uh that was some of you too.”

“You’re adorable. You know that,” he chuckles as he pecks his lips against the end of my nose. “I know. And I don’t care. I woke up and just had to get a taste of you. So what if I also got a taste of myself.”

I look away, flushed with embarrassment and arousal. “Is that like, a thing?” I ask honestly. “Do guys like doing that?”

“What? Eating pussy?” Dean asks, perplexed, so I nod, still not able to look at him. “I can’t speak for every man, but me? I love it. And I know I’m good at it.” He finishes with a cocky air about him.

“Oh,” I sigh. “Okay, I didn’t know. I’m-I was…”

“Baby, look at me,” Dean pleads but I just shake my head. His fingers grasp my chin and turn me until we are face to face. “I know. I figured it out when I saw the blood. If I’d known it was your first time, I would’ve been more gentle. And it would’ve been a hell of a lot more romantic.”

“No, Dean. It was perfect,” I assure. “It was more than I could have imagined.”

“If I hurt you-”

“You didn’t,” I quickly confirm. “I promise. I loved every second of it.”

Dean collapses onto the bed beside me, pulling me back into his arms. “Y/N. If this is weird for you, I understand. I look like your father. Hell, we even share the same name-”

I quickly cut him off. “You look like him but you are completely opposite of him. Believe me. I lived with the man for 19 years and sure, he protected me and kept me safe but you….you’ve made me feel it. I know I can fend for myself but I also know that I don’t have to.

“So yea sure, you look like him but you are not him. You are more attuned with the feelings of those around you. You make an effort to ensure people know to come to you if they need anything. We all appreciate that more than you know.”

“I got you baby. I will keep you safe,” he tells me. “Even if you don’t need it.”

Dean’s POV

Not long after waking up in Y/N’s room, again, I retreated back to my room to get ready for the day. We had plans to do a horror marathon later, seeing that we found out that we both are fond of the classic slasher films.

We had decided to play it cool around all the other occupants of the Bunker, not letting on that we were sleeping together now but I didn’t know how long that was going to last. Even the half hour I’d been away from her was torture. God, I’m sounding like a wimp. Can’t stand to be away from someone for any amount of time.

What the fuck did Michael do to me? Dean Winchester is not a lovesick puppy.

I confiscate all types of snacks and drinks, taking them to my room randomly throughout the day, hoping that it doesn’t raise any red flags for anyone. I even get a chance to head out to town and pick up a pizza.

A knock comes on my door late, right after we had begun All Saints Day. Y/N scrambles off the bed and I can’t help but chuckle when she slithers underneath the frame.

“Yo,”

Sam enters with a tablet in his hand and a look of uncertainty on his face. “Hey,” he says cautiously.

“Hey,” I answer back nonchalantly, not taking my eyes off the screen. I am internally freaking out that he is going to find Y/N under my bed and our ruse will be over. I like this sneaking around gimmick. It’s fun and exciting.

“What’re you doing?” my little brother asks, looking around my room.

“Horror marathon. Just made my way through the Halloweens and-” I begin but Sam cuts me off as he powers up the tablet in his hand.

“Well, I hate to disturb your marathon but I think I found us a case.”

“More Michael monsters?”

I really hope not because I am tired of finding just another nightmare that fucking archangel created while possessing me.

“No, killer toy.”

That got my attention. I stopped chewing and glanced at the tablet as he sits it on my bed. There is a video paused on the screen and the headline reads ‘THEY LIVE: Killer Toys! True Story!’ Sam leans over and clicks the play button.

The man on the screen has cuts all over his face as he describes what supposedly happened to him.

“…and then the thing freaking jumped me! I mean, it wouldn’t stop. It was over and over…”

I watch as the guy mimics using nunchucks, not really interested in the case at all until his next words catch my attention.

“Panthro kicked my ass.”

Is he really serious? He is saying a toy Thunderian did all that?!

“Thundercats? Seriously?”

Sam grabs the tablet and turns the video off. “Yeah. But I mean, you’ve got your pizza, at least eight more of these movies so I’ll just leave you to it and I’ll get one of the other guys…”

I roll over and get up off the bed, smiling when I see Y/N’s feet visible at the side. “Oh, hell no, hell no. No, Panthro, that’s mine.”

My brother leaves and I start getting dressed. If an inanimate toy is attacking people I’ve got to check it out.

“Dean?” Y/N says once she is out from under the bed and rights her clothes. “I wanna go.”

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss @spnbaby-67 @tftumblin @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @larajadeschmidt13 @atc74 @vicariouslythruspn @squirrelnotsam @sandlee44 @blacktithe7 @hoboal87 @mogaruke @deanwanddamons @supraveng @deandreamernp @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @namelessghoul0 @we-are-all-a-bunch-of-idjits @nancymcl @kazsrm67 @lostdarksoul6

#supernatural #supernatural season 14 #spn #canon adjacent #dean winchester #sam winchester #mary winchester #y/n winchester #jack kline #bobby singer #smut #angst #fluff #dean x y/n #mary x bobby

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strangerobin · 4 years ago

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Rue: Chapter 7 (Jasper Hale x OC Imagine)

He felt her long before she heard her.

The same old tugging in his heart, followed by this sense of knowing that she was nearby, coming right for him.

And in anticipation of her arrival, he staked his guard just outside the clearing of the house. He was soon joined by members of his family, Edward on his left and Alice on his right. Carlisle and Esme were not too far behind, on the veranda. No one dared move.

Then there was the rustling of the leaves, but in all reality they had heard her from miles away, deliberately making the largest of noises. Adeline emerged in all her glory, single handedly holding the carcass of a giant mountain lion which she clearly had drained already. With a flourish, she threw the carcass right at the foot of Jasper.

She always did have a flare for the dramatics.

“You wanted me right, Jasper Whitlock?” Adeline growled, her eyes were wild and her countenance hostile. Alice eyed her warily, unable to predict the other’s move and Edward flared his nostrils in warning, ready to lunge forward anytime.

Jasper held out his hand, gesturing for the two to step down. With his eyes still trained on Adeline, he took a step forward to come face to face with the girl.

"Adeline."

Adeline’s face broke into a wide feral grin, though her eyes were shinning like cold hard coals. “Well here I am.” Her hands flew rapidly in the air, gesturing to herself. “So quit your stalkerish behaviour and let’s talk like real grown adults who’ve been living for way too long.”

He kept his face impassive, trying to show her just how hysterical she was acting. “You’re being irrational now. No one here means you any harm.”

“Irrational? Me irrational?!” She echoed in disbelief. Before pointing a finger in his face, absolutely livid. “I don’t need this talk from you! I’m not the one who’s been following an innocent girl half the country, disrupting her peace! Driving her insane!”

“Really, all I wanted was just some answers, which last I checked were quite long overdue.” Jasper shrugged nonchalantly, while Adeline looked as if she were ready to explode the next second.

“You don’t come to my house and harass me and my siblings and then demand to be answered to just like that!” She spat.

“Then what should’ve I done then?” Jasper asked cooly, his frustration was slowly building as well.

“You might have asked nicely-”

“Asked nicely?” He couldn’t help the scorn in his laugh, but neither could he conceal the hurt he had been feeling. “Would you have cared to answer then? Instead of running away as if you’ve seen a ghost? When you were the one who’d ran away like the ghost yourself?”

That seemed to slap her in the face and Adeline spluttered for a moment before finally threw her arms in the air, in a tantrum.

“I don’t care what you want! Just leave me the fuck alone!”

“You know I can’t do that." Not now when I’ve finally found you after so long.

In the end it was this declaration that proved to be the last straw for Adeline. With a feral growl and lightning reflexes, she was lunging for his jugular. But she had not known that Jasper was just as prepared for the attack; he had years of experience in war and in the handling of newborns. With equally, if not even quicker speed he blocked the attack and launched a counter attack, thought not meant to be lethal, only to subdue his opponent. Adeline dodged it with poise and precision, and retaliated with another punch aiming for the solar plexus.

It became apparent in a matter of seconds that the girl was fighting to win, aiming for all the vulnerable spots of her opponent, she fought with grace and an instinct, as if she knew where and when the next blow would be. Jasper on the other hand was quicker and stronger, craftier. Despite the girl’s anticipation, she was no match to Jasper superior skills, and it soon dawned on her that she was fighting a losing battle. Jasper watched her eyes shift, calculating, no doubt trying to hatch a hasty retreat.

Not this time.

With a swift block to her kick from the left, he’d lunge at her, tipping her off balance, pinning her to the ground with his hand clasped around her delicate neck, face inches from hers, close enough to bite.

But her warm hand was on his chest, where his dead heart was.

They were locked in an impasse, neither willing to let the other go first, to admit defeat. Though if anything it was clear from the way the fight had gone down, Jasper had the upper hand right from the beginning and was going easy on Adeline. She was no match to his superior ability or skills and would’ve lost eventually.

The defeat left her livid. He could feel her piercing glare and the venomous loathing seeping under his skin. But he’d rather her hate him then be apart from her for another minute, and he was worried that the minute he loosened his grip, he would lose her once again.

“Jasper, let’s invite our guest into the house, shall we?”

Carlisle’s soothing voice broke the two out of their chokehold on each other. Adeline glared at Jasper again, finally moving her hand away only to slap away his clasp on her neck. She stood up in fury and without a backward glance, stalked into the house.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

She could see him in broad daylight now. They had fought and she had lost. He was no longer the same Jasper she had known all those years ago, not the simple farm boy who had courted her nor the charming Major she had watched climb the ranks of the Souther army. Here was the man changed, replaced by a monster, stronger, faster, who had honed and mastered his own weaponries over the last century.

There was no mistaking now, Jasper Whitlock was a vampire.

And it infuriated her all the more because how could he throw away all his human life and pleasures, after everything she had sacrificed for him?!

“Well?” Adeline barked impatiently as she turned to face the family crowding around her in the living room, more had joined seemingly from out of nowhere. There was the little one’s family though she herself was absent; and then there was her woman from the bar in Minnesota hoovering close behind Jasper, as well as another two pair of couples.

“I haven’t got all day.” She snapped to no one in particular.

The leader, stepped forward to stand next to Jasper. Blonde hair carefully swept back neatly, in a tailor made suit. Adeline spared a glance at her worn out sweater and jeans and momentarily felt ashamed for her own tardiness. “I don’t suppose we’ve all formally met. My name is Carlisle Cullen, this is my family. From my understanding, Jasper and you have been long acquaintances-”

“Fair enough.” Adeline muttered, eyeing the latter who was quietly observing her severely in return. Oh how she wished she could gouge those golden orbs out.

“Esme here.” Carlisle now gestured at the honey blonde close to him. “She’s my mate. The others are my children, Edward, Bella, Rosalie, Emmett and Alice. Only Alice and Jasper are not my direct or indirect sires, they joined the coven voluntarily.”

That caught her attention and Adeline shot another glance at Jasper. So then, this well-spoken gentleman was not the one who had turned Jasper then. She wondered briefly who the culprit had been.

“And no doubt you’ve already met Renesmee, our youngest. She is Bella and Edward’s child.”

Adeline trailed her eyes onto the couple. Edward was scrutinising her reaction while Bella shifted uncomfortably. “You had the child before she was turned?” She directed her question towards the man. “How very rash.” And stupid. Adeline thought to herself.

She did not miss the small frown on Edward’s face.

“We did not know then, that I was… that we were capable of making a baby between a vampire and human.” Was his guarded reply. “We had never met another hybrid before it. And we paid the price with the Volturi.”

“The Volturi came for your child?” That piqued her interest.

“Yes.” Edward nodded. “We barely avoided conflict and a bloodbath.”

Well, that was interesting information. Her fury at Jasper momentarily set aside, Adeline stopped to process this new piece of information.

“What did you say or do to have them off your back? Because I can’t imagine them being all too accepting with the news. Especially if they’ve never met or seen a hybrid before. They’d be wary of it and keen to destroy before word could spread.”

“There’s a coven of hybrids in South America.” Alice, the girl from the bar butted in with her shrill little voice. “Jasper and I managed to track them down and we were able to learn of the basics of your kind. They had to leave when they couldn’t find another threat.”

Adeline's brows shot up in surprise. “There’s a coven of hybrids in South America? What of them now then?”

“We aren’t sure.” Carlisle finally answered after a moment of silence. “But we have our own speculations.”

“No violation of the sacred laws of the Volturi will ever go unpunished.”

Adeline’s thoughts unconsciously wandered back to her father as she mulled over Carlisle’s words thoughtfully, a hand over her chin. A breech in the laws… Punishments…

“What of you then?” Edward’s question roused her from her thoughts and back to the present.

“What of me?” Adeline echoed in feigned innocence.

“Your maker.” Edward was looking at her squarely in the eye. A hint of hostility lingering at the back of his voice. “Last I remembered, you were quite adamant that my daughter was not to trust her own makers. I can’t imagine why.”

Adeline felt the corner of mouth twitched in annoyance. What a petty, narrow minded man he was. “Well I’m sorry but not everyone lives a sequestered, pampered life like you do, Mr Edward.” She flashed him a wide fake smile. “And no, I'm not interested in divulging in my private life with the likes of strangers.” As if she was going to tell them of Father and her siblings. Although she hated one half of them and felt indifferent towards the other half, there were still a few precious ones in her family she would wish to keep safe. She didn’t quite trust the Cullens enough, and certainly not Jasper, to reveal too much of her private life to them. There was no guarantee that the Volturi would be kind for a second or third time. There was no guarantee the family did not have any ties or agreement with the Volturi.

She was engaged in a heated stare off with Edward when she glimpsed Jasper fighting to keep his face stoic.

“What?” She snapped. “What’re you smiling at?”

“You know, Adeline. I would hold my thoughts closer to myself if I were you when Edward’s around.” Jasper was evidently trying and failing to suppress a smirk as the corner of his lips tugged upwards. “He’s a telepath.”

Adeline snapped her head towards Edward so quick she thought she was giving herself whiplash. She felt herself blanched as she thought of all the things that Edward would now know before resolutely slamming a mental wall over her mind.

Motherf- She had been duped! Again! This was a trap all along! And in coming here she had willingly fallen headfirst into it like a moth to a fire!

With a frustrated growl, Adeline turned and stalked straight out of the house.

She should never have come!

“Adeline. Adeline.”

She kept striding forward, ignoring Jasper’s voice even as it followed her, getting closer and closer until he was close enough to grab her by the arm.

“Adeline!”

“What is it that you want?” Adeline hissed still fuming, as she pulled her hand away from his grasp. “I came because I thought you wanted to talk like real adults. But I guess that was never your intention!”

“Adeline, you know it’s never my intention to harm you.” He sighed in response.

“You didn’t have to stalk me, and certainly not my sister. She was innocent.”

“And you know you wouldn’t have come on your free will if I hadn’t done that.” Jasper murmured, somewhat akin to a wounded puppy. For a split second she thought she had a glimpse of his guilt but she wouldn’t let it cloud her judgement. She was supposed to be angry, and she had every right to be so.

She was not the perpetrator in this.

Or so she convinced herself.

“Look, fine. You got me.” Adeline threw her hands up in resignation and sighed. “I’m a hybrid, my father is a vampire, all my siblings are half vampires. I’ve been alive since 1789; I was a hybrid when I met you, I’m still one now. Does that satisfy your question?”

“Why did you leave?” Jasper eyed her cautiously, wary of her sudden forthcomingness.

“I left because I wanted to.” The lie rolling out of her mouth was surprisingly so much easier than she thought it would be. “There’s no deeper meaning in it than that.”

“Bullshit.” Jasper growled dangerously.

Adeline feigned annoyance and shook her head with a sigh. “Sometimes the truth is just harder to accept, Jasper.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s not up to you to decide.” She looked away then and heaved another sign.

There was a heaviness in the air and it made her squirm uncomfortably. For all the intimacy they had shared together all those years ago, it felt like they were two strangers right now. But they might as well be.

People change all the time. And for all that it may, she wasn’t the same girl Jasper Whitlock had courted a century and a half ago. She had long since buried her naivety and innocence in the passage of time.

She had become a stranger to him, just as he had become a stranger to her now.

There was no sense in any sort of rekindling of any kind.

“I think I’m gonna go now.” Adeline mumbled without even looking up.

“Wait.” She felt his strong hand on her wrist again, stopping her from motion. “Not yet.”

“What?”

She turned back, confused to see the new determination in his eyes.

“Aren’t you curious?”

“Curious about what?”

“Have you ever thought, how did Jasper manage to find me? How did Jasper manage to track me down? Because clearly you have some sort of instinctive self preservative and concealment ability and I’m guessing that it’s usually close to impossible to track you.”

“And?” She couldn’t see where this was going. Really, it was a waste of time.

“Haven’t you ever given thought to just what kind of beings possesses such an ability?”

“You’re wasting time talking in circles.” She declared.

“Come on darling.” She hated that knowing smirk on his face. It was equally becoming and also frustrating to look at. “Tick tock. Think.”

Adeline squinted at the man in front of her suspiciously. Just what in God’s name was he implying? What kind of being would be able to track someone down easily. The obvious answer would be: a tracker. But she knew this was not what Jasper was trying to get at given his specific veiled remark. So then… what?

“Especially when there’s a bond involved?”

That snapped her out of her reverie.

“I don’t believe you!” Adeline spluttered in indignation. “Bullshit! I… I’m not going to fall for that load of crap!” Jasper’s calm demeanour only spurred on her anger. “You’re suggesting a soulmate bond?! Impossible!”

“Calm down darlin-”

“Calm down?” Adeline echoed after Jasper, incredulous. “Are you… are you hearing yourself?”

“Yes I am.” The straight face he was giving her, it was just too much!

“Those things don’t exist Jasper.” She tried to implore, to talk some sense into that thick skull of his, which seemed to have grown in thickness since the last time they had met.

“You wanna bet?” He shot her a cocky smile, and her heart began to thump rapidly. Out of indignation, not excitement. She said to herself.

“You can bet your pretty little head that when I’m done I’m going to serve it on a silver platter!”

“You do remember that I know where your little sister is, don’t you?”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Come now. That’d be low even for me.”

“Fuck you!”

Oh that cocky smirk. Her rage was coming back on full now and Jasper had been doing nothing but fanning the flames of her anger every given chance. Some part of her mind, the part still capable of rational thought, nagged at her.

And why are you so irritated by the accusation?

Because this is incredulous. She thought to herself.

“Come on, darling. Prove me wrong.”

When she made no move to reply, Adeline felt a hand clasping around hers. And cold as it may be, the gentleness of the caress reminded her for the first time in a long while, of a time she thought had already escaped her all those years ago. She looked up at his tawny eyes, for the first time since their reunion, they held nothing but a vulnerability, a deep longing that came from a depth that she was afraid to venture in. She had to turn away for fear of drowning in those liquid topaz.

“Stay… stay for a month.” He continued to coax, soothingly, his voice like silk in her ears and she felt an artificial wave of calm trying to wrap around her. “Prove yourself right and prove me wrong. Prove that I’m an obsessive psychopathic lunatic who’s just been randomly pulling crazy ideas out of thin air.”

Adeline swallowed. This would be a very bad idea, this would be a very very bad idea. “What’s in this for me?”

“If I can’t convince you by the end of the month.” She watched him lick his lips, a nervous tick of his that only ever seems to emerge when the two were alone. “I’ll leave you alone for good.”

“Deal.” She found herself say in reply. Though deep down, there was a sense of wrong, that she had committed yet another mistake, had willingly walked into another trap of his. With her years behind her, if anything they should have taught her to be smarter, to be more level-headed and calculating.

So why was she agreeing to this crazy suggestion?

Adeline held his gaze searchingly for a moment. Finally forcing herself to speak, her voice momentarily caught in her throat.

“You’ve changed, Jasper.”

Him, changed? Jasper was surprised by the irritation the statement had stirred in him.

“How so?” He tried to keep his voice even, but there was a tremor in it, one he hoped Adeline would not catch ahold of.

“You…” He watched as she frowned inwardly, searching for the right word to say. “You didn’t used to be so… so manipulative.”

That struck a chord in his heart.

“You’ve set traps for me at every turn.” The accusation was salt on his wound and it stung so badly. But she was not entirely wrong.

“You got to do what you got to do to survive in my world.”

“Your world?”

“Yes, my world.”

He suddenly felt an unsalvageable gulf between the two of them. Adeline was right, he had changed, by the Civil War, by Maria and his bloodlust filled life. Life had forced to him to be ruthless and militaristic, to exploit every little weakness his opponents had, to manipulate every emotion exuberated. Life with Cullens had softened him considerably, but he had not lost this skill he had honed over the century. And in times of need, the Major in him always resurfaced.

“But can you say the same for yourself?”

Adeline had changed too.

He scrutinised her pretty face closer, searching for some semblance of the lover he had lost all those years ago.

She had once compared him to the different intervals of the day. He was the afternoon, warm and welcoming, when the sun was just right, when the sunlight wasn’t too harsh and the warmth from it shrouded one in a blanket of sleep. And he had compared her to midday, when the sun was at its highest, when the light was intense and at its strongest.

Now the light seemed to be gone from her. She was a new moon, when even the light of the moon had spun away, hidden in the dark night. And he realised how little he knew of her just as she knew nothing of his. What had happened to have taken away her sun?

He watched as Adeline frowned before moving away uncomfortably under his intense gaze.

An air of hesitancy shrouded around Adeline, growing stronger by the minute. No doubt their conversation had brought great unease to the girl now; for the first time, the two of them realised just how little they know of the other. Of all the changes the other had gone through since their breakup.

And it seemed that, neither was quite willing to let the other in.

With the loss of innocence, it wasn’t near impossible for them to bare their soul and heart to the other in a heartbeat, without scruples.

For fear of more injuries, for fear of ripping out new wounds amongst old scars. For all the shame they had gone through in the years since passed.

“We’ve all changed.”

But the final verdict seemed wronged, and it aroused in him a sense of dissatisfaction from the depths of his chest. Gnawing at him. It didn’t feel right, he hadn’t intended to push her away even further when he lured her here. He had wanted to reconnect with her, to rebuild whatever was lost between them. To pick up from wherever they had departed.

And it only seemed to distance her even further away.

Jasper frowned in distaste and turned towards the house again.

“Come. I’ll show you to your room.”

#jasper hale x reader #jasper hale x oc #jasper hale imagine #jasperhale #twilight angst #twilight imagine

41 notes · View notes

mintseesaw · 4 years ago

Text

Aurora | 4

Pairing: general!jungkook x reader!princess x prince!jimin Genre: angst, fluff, historical au, forbidden love affair au Word count: 8.3k Warnings: themes of abduction and insurgence, imposing abortion as a punishment, story setting is heavily patriarchal // rating: 18+

translations of unfamiliar words will be provided below ^^

*unedited

masterlist

Previously...

“Did you miss me, Princess ________?” You heard him greet from behind. The sultry yet sweet tone of his voice, compelling you to face him as if your unwillingness to meet him so suddenly wasn’t there, anymore.

With a graceful turn, your solicitous expression caused by your unintended tryst last night gone in a flash tipping your chin forward to display a false confidence in front of the prince.

The amusement on his face widens, taking notice of the exceptional glow radiating from the princess. Have you been dolling yourself up just for him? The certain strangeness in the dark of your orbs igniting fire in him before he blinks and it vanishes, gone without a trace of acknowledgement from the weight of your stare.

He crosses the offending distance, smiling sweetly before he took hold of your hand and kisses your knuckles with an ardent gaze clashing against yours that harbor the coldness he had grown accustomed with.

“My lord,” an old man hurriedly attended to Jungkook just as he took an empty table without a word. Must be the owner of the stall. Uttering his request, the owner bobbed his head low before vanishing from his line of vision.

He was supposedly going to have breakfast with you after having tediously cooked the dishes, himself. The lack of light in your eyes and your dead enthusiasm had spoiled his appetite, and severely wounded his soul. Nothing could probably ease the ache sitting beneath his ribcage. Not when the intimacy he shared with you the night before and your cold treatment of him earlier painfully reverberated in his head like a roaring thunder in the sky.

You, giving him mixed signals, confused the hell out of his weak, young heart.

What am I supposed to do with you, Jagiya?

Perhaps, it was the uncertainty that was instigated by your emotions. That must have been the only reason.

Shortly after, the old man came back with an empty cup, pouring it full with rice wine from the bronze pitcher he brought with him. Jungkook mumbled an audible thanks before chugging down the alcohol like an angry man on his bad day.

“This isn’t something we both have a choice of.”

Your voice echoes in his head. A sweet, delicate voice that could easily slice his heart into two with your mere heartless words. A smirk made its way on his face, despite the amusement never reaching up his eyes.

There is nothing left to decide on because you’ll be with him in the end. He wouldn’t leave you, again. He wouldn’t lose his only chance he has to claim you as rightfully his. When he almost lost you back in the days you were young, right in his arms, before his eyes— it was the day he promised to show you what his heart truly desires. Whatever the cost may be.

He had never been that frantic in his life. Not even when he saw with his own eyes the deep cut in his arm gushing too much blood when he was young. Not when two poisonous arrows almost killed him in the battlefield.

When he stripped the covering off of the suspicious cart in search of any sign of you, the last thing he was expecting to see was your unconscious body, with your restrained arms and a piece of cloth stuffed in your mouth. With your aristocratic braids gone, he couldn’t see much of your face as your hair hung loose covering half of your face as your body lied down in a foetal position, as if you tried to make up with the little space the average sized cart provided which was filled dominantly by materials of what looked like rolls of linens of various colors.

He knew it was you.

Despite the filth covering your attire down to the skin of your bare hands, and your seemingly thinner frame, the mere sight of the body screams everything about you.

At the time, his younger self was almost sure he was going to explode at any moment from the excruciating constriction in his chest.

His eyes were livid while they scanned over the blood bathed bodies scattered around the cart that were slain by the sharp edges of his sword, looking for another sign of danger. When he was certain that none of the rebels on the ground were moving, he dropped his weapon.

“Princess!” He calls out, his bloody hands leaving imprints of the dirt-covered article of your hanbok as he shook your shoulders none too gently, desperate to wake you.

To no avail, you remain unconscious. The sight of you in a devastating state dreaded him. His younger self thought his world right there and then was collapsing, his surroundings slowing down and his gaze shrinking and focusing into you alone. Not even a pittance of fear shook him despite killing a group of rebels, none of the fact that he stood there alone fighting for his life did. None. Not until he pulled the bamboo mat off of the cart.

Where the fuck is that old man?

It’s been hours since Lord Min suddenly came up to his residence, forcing him out of his slumber at dawn without telling him the purpose of his abrupt disturbance.

When the scholar said he found another lead, Jungkook only took it lightly—not knowing it would turn out to be the key to finally locate you.

Lord Min led him to a trail behind a group of merchants who were supposed to exchange goods on the capital’s port with Mongolian merchants. When the suspicious group split into two directions— it left him and the scholar no option but to part ways as well. However, Jungkook insisted on following the merchants who particularly brought their supposed cart of goods.

As soon as he took his outer layer of robe to cover it on your shivering body, the morning breeze hits him mercilessly. Discreetly, he gathers you in his arms. As he sets you on his lap on the ground, he removes the cloth in your mouth, while pressing a trembling hand on your chest to feel your heartbeat.

“Your Highness,” he tried once more when he sensed a faint beating against your chest. His hands shuffle to remove the tie around your wrists.

“Come on… open your eyes for me, Princess.” He whispered desperately, tears freely rolling down on his cheeks without him ever noticing.

He gasped when he caught the slightest bit of movement from you. He thought he might have been hallucinating out of his desperation to see you alive. But then, you proved him wrong as your heavy eyelids slowly peeled open, before they closed shut, again.

“Your Highness! Please… do you hear me? Can you open your eyes again?”

You did, and with your slightly parted mouth, you drew a breath in heavily.

“W-Who are you?” you managed to rasp, almost inaudibly. However, he was too close not to miss what you said. Too close to be deemed righteous around the lady he desires. He didn’t care, because your cold body needed as much as heat from him. Nothing else mattered more to him than to save your life.

“It’s me, Jungkook. I am Prince Taehyung’s friend—“

“I-I… must… be dreaming,” you croaked in between dry, painful coughs.

“You’re not dreaming. Please, don’t talk. It's hurting you.” He chokes back a sob.

“Is this real? You finally noticed me,” you pause, only to breathe through your mouth once more. “I’m… tired, I want to rest,” you say without opening your eyes. But the moisture pooling out of your eyes meant one thing to him. You’ve been suffering from immense pain.

“No, no, no. Please, stay with me. Lord Min is coming to get us. He’ll be here soon,” he coos, not caring how he sounded a little more desperate, taking your cold hands up in his mouth to warm them up.

Jungkook continuously rocked your shivering body back and forth on his lap, never removing his eyes on you. He wanted to embrace you tight, cover you with his body to protect you from the horrible cold of the morning weather but he was afraid he would crush you.

He waited, waited and helplessly waited. Lord Min would come find him. That was what he reminded Jungkook as before they parted ways in the woods.

It was him and Lord Min who found you, even when the King had ordered a mass search for his missing daughter.

---

Although your disappearance was largely perceived as abduction, neither evidence nor eye witness was found to support the claim, hence stirring the urge to find you, himself. Roughly 10 days after you were last seen, not even a single trace of your whereabouts had been identified. Something was definitely off with the way the case was being handled. The lack of progress on the investigation drove the King in extreme desperation as well as the court in anguish due to the King’s adverse political decisions.

In spite of the rumors of insurgence spreading like a common gossip story in the villages surrounding the capital, the rumors fall on deaf ears in the court on the possibility that your disappearance was plotted by the rebel forces. As if the missing person was not a princess whom the rebels could use as a pawn to bend the King on his knees.

Jungkook spent most of his days in the capital, inside the gambling houses, pretending to play with men of all sorts of class. On some days, he visited the courtesan’s house capital marketplace under the disguise of an interested guest due to the rumors that some gisaengs, at the time, were avid followers of the insurgence. At nights, he pieced together the collective stories he tediously gathered during the day.

One day, he decided to make progress on his investigation, spying on a group of merchants trading with Jurchen merchants who were pretending under the guise of Mongolian heritage. It was Mina, a gisaeng whom he somehow befriended when his visits at the courtesan’s house had frequented, who shared her discovery of a Mongolian merchant accidentally revealing his identity when he fluently spoke a dialect she distinguished as her mother tongue since she was a Jurchen-born immigrant.

He didn’t find any suspicious or illegal goods being traded on the port nor could he confirm the real heritage of the merchants. However, on his way back to the capital, he was cornered by a man he recognized as one of the merchants in the port.

To his surprise, the merchant was strangely skilled enough to defeat him in a fight— scoring a severe cut on Jungkook’s side. He didn’t think the merchant would be merciful enough to let him live when Jungkook fell to the ground after what seemed like several minutes of intense sword-to-sword combat. Strangely enough, the merchant was forgiving and instead of ending the life out of him, the merchant took his time to scrutinize every item inside the satchel Jungkook brought with him. By then, he had already sensed that the man was anything but a mere trader.

Breathing heavily, he pressed his hand hard to his bloody waist as he watches the merchant curiously unfold a piece of hanji. It was the trade map he had drawn a few days ago, alongside the location where the camp can be found.

Jungkook knew it was over for him as he saw a glint of recognition in the eyes of the merchant.

After what seemed to be a long moment of silence, the merchant looks at him. “What is this map for?”

Jungkook laughed dryly and as his shoulders shook a little, a surge of pain shot in his core. He winces as the sensation doubled over his effort to make fun of the act the merchant was pulling in front of him.

“Are you one of them?”

If the merchant understood what he meant, he simply chose to ignore it. “I’m asking you a question, kid.”

“You’re one of them, are you not? I’m most certain you know what that map is.” Jungkook gritted through his teeth as the pain on his side intensified, spreading like a magma on his midriff.

By now, the merchant’s focus zeroed in on him. “You know about the camp? Who do you work for, kid?” The merchant interrogates, further. Though the man remained passive, Jungkook found it odd to notice the slightest bit of awe in the eyes of the strange man.

“You tell me, you act like you know my every activity.”

The merchant only raised an eyebrow. “Well, here’s the truth. I’m not a rebel. I’m not a merchant, either. I will help you if you tell me what you have gotten about the camp so far.”

Jungkook darted a glare at him. “As you can see, I’m heavily wounded, literally. You think I still care?”

“You’ll live,” the merchant dismisses nonchalantly, which made Jungkook scoff in disbelief.

“Look kid, I’m not going to kill you. But in exchange for your life, you’ll help me follow the movement.”

“It’s not like you gave me an option to decline.” Jungkook weakly contended.

The merchant effortlessly helped him up from the ground, “Come on, my grandfather is a physician. He’ll tend to your wound.”

Jungkook learned that the merchant who introduced himself as Lord Min turned out to be a scholar. He was writing a case relative to the alleged insurgence centering mostly in poor villages in the capital. Although he didn’t fully trust the scholar, sparing Jungkook his life was enough reason for him to disclose the true nature of his investigation to the scholar who was, at the time, penning colloquial stories about the insurgence.

Lord Min paused his scribbling, throwing a look of surprise at his new-found friend. “Did I hear you right? You believed the princess was abducted by the rebels?”

Jungkook only shrugged, already concluding what the scholar would say next. “It’s not the first time someone thought I was going crazy for telling them that.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I have been following the movement for months now,” Lord Min asserted, which prompted Jungkook to look back at him. “And since I heard about the sudden disappearance of the princess, it was the only theory I could come up with. Unless…” Lord Min trailed, taking notice of the interest glinting in Jungkook’s eyes.

“Unless?” Jungkook echoed expectantly.

Lord Min pretended to be in deep thought before adding up, “There is a lover involved.”

In disbelief, Jungkook threw a scornful look at him. “There’s no man in her life, I’m sure of that.” He remarked with conviction, folding his arms in his chest.

To his surprise, Lord Min hollered into fits of laughter, only severing the look of disdain on Jungkook’s expression. “For a young soldier like you, you seemed to be a little more concerned about the princess.” The older man remarked, meaningfully.

---

“Isn’t it too early to be drinking on your own, kid?” Taunts a voice, forcing him out of his reverie. With a lift of his head, his eyes landed on a commoner seemingly older than him adorned in a daffodil shade of a simple robe. Half of the man’s face was covered in conical shaped hat and just as the man tipped it high with his fingers, Jungkook immediately recognized the person standing across his table.

Your breath hitches on your throat as the warmth of his mouth sends tingles straight through your veins. With a subtle tug of your hand from his hold, the prince almost didn’t take your silent plea, not without his companion guard clearing their throat that snapped him out of daze.

If there’s particularly one thing that stood out to him aside from his aristocratic, --almost polished physical features, it was his forthright admission of his feelings on you. The was the he had made a move in regards to feelings. You appreciate the way he had not once tried to break into your boundaries for his satisfaction.

After what had happened, the least person you expected to see is him. The only man who had the guts to be with you despite the rumors that tainted your reputation. Guilt thrums heavily through your veins more than the throbbing of your muscles in your body.

Jimin deserves someone far better than what you can offer. Not with your heart, and most definitely not with your broken chastity.

“Your Excellency,” you greeted, tilting your head low in a subtle bow. Your eyes stayed firm on the ground, refusing to return his stare as you murmur, “I trust your journey has not been too much for you?”

You missed the way your concern roused a smile up on his flawless face or you would have flushed right away. “It was as expected. I am an impatient man, but it was worth the trouble now that my reward is standing in front of me.”

Taken aback at this teasing remark, your mouth unconsciously parted. You didn’t have the time to retract from the proximity he initiated just as he extended his arm, his palm meeting one of your cheeks as he tilts your chin up to meet his gaze. The pad of his thumb feather lightly caresses the softness of your skin there.

The abruptness of his move left you immobile for a moment, the heat coming from his hand involuntarily eliciting goosebumps to come out on your covered arms.

“Have you been well, little flower? I couldn’t be at peace knowing your health is not in the best condition. I was a thread of breath away from forcing my way into your quarters just to check on you myself, but you may never forgive me for if I ever disrespect your privacy.”

“There’s nothing to worry of. Mayhaps... my body has not been reacting too kindly to the cold weather. I had since taken herbal teas to help me recover.” The lie glided smoothly out of your tongue, piercing your lower lip with your teeth to prevent yourself from throwing up out of disgust.

The way his head bobs up lightly made you believe he bought your excuse. “Very well. Will you allow me to accompany you?” He whispers, as if it’s possible to turn down a powerful man like him.

“Of course, Your Excellency.” The smile you plastered on your face was enough to conceal your fears for now.

At your answer, the court ladies immediately hurried towards the recreational area, pulling the wooden chairs for you and the prince to sit on.

You take the opportunity to pull back from his touch as an excuse to occupy one of the chairs.

Mimicking your move, he settled on a seat, one that was the closest to yours. He then motions a dismissive wave on the watchful eyes of his guards, giving him and the rest of the court ladies a silent order to leave you two alone. With a bow, everyone retreated back down onto the ground, obediently.

As he turns his attention back at you, he asks, “Do you like to tease me, Princess?”

“W-What do you mean?” Your stutter evoked a subtle grin to reappear on the corners of his mouth. While your insides are a mess, the delight shining in his eyes lets you know he couldn’t see right through your miserable heart.

The subtle smile on the corners of his mouth stretches wider, “You know I like it when you call me by my name.”

His teasing once again scores a twin stain on your cheeks. Although you remain placid with his remark, he didn’t miss the immediate rush of blood coloring your face that, in return, earned a smirk from him.

Blinking, you straightened your back. “Why are you not appropriately dressed for the season, Your Excellency?”

Prince Jimin beamed in your attempt of changing the subject, eyes glimmering in glee. “My attire is fine. Mayhaps, if you are concerned, I can put on another layer of thick robe.”

Quickly, you shake your head. “There’s no need for such if you don’t feel like the weather is too much for you. Winter has just begun and only a few weeks more before the weather becomes unbearable, especially for envoys like yourself.”

“I can only imagine how our departure would be like.”

“You chose to come to the kingdom during the winter. Is there something that’s urgent on your purpose not to delay it until the weather has calmed down?”

”The only urgent thing I found was to see you. Have I not made it clear from the beginning?”

You purse your lips, afraid to voice out your thoughts. On the other hand, Jimin was way too deep in the subject to notice the slightest bit of trouble reflecting in your eyes.

“I didn’t think any woman would stir my interest after having my heart broken when I was young. You know, my brother—the Emperor gifted me a marriage in exchange for my service in the military. I was supposed to leave the palace for a while to visit my bride. The Emperor halted my plan only to have me represent him on his behalf during the coronation of Queen Soheon. If I didn’t come here, I would have been married by now.”

Burying your trembling hands on your lap, you distracted yourself with the beauty of the winter blooms on the pond, swallowing the gasp that threatened to spill as an involuntary reaction. His revelation left a lasting impact on you. In your head, you could hear yourself screaming the truth in front of him. He shouldn’t be this infatuated over you.

“Perhaps, you are well enough to company out of the palace? You still owe me a tour to the capital.” The prince posits all too suddenly.

Swiftly, he stood up and offered a helping hand in front of you. The sun is barely out, concealed with the thick layers of clouds to which is a great opportunity to wander around in the marketplace. Your false confidence slowly faltering as seconds turn to minutes with his gaze sweeping on your whole length. You accepted his hand, granting his wish. It was the least you could do to make up for him travelling a thousand miles to see you.

The following day, an event is set to be held in Changdeok to pay tribute for army’s victory in defeating the rebel forces in one of the borders in Joseon. Hours earlier than the customary outset in the palace, the finishing touches on the day’s festivities have already been wrapped up by the court ladies even before the sun rises on the east.

Historically, the day held no significance to the royal court nor to any prominent military figure in the nation. However, some weeks prior to the present day, the king received a letter from the young general relative to the army’s arrival to the capital, hence, the sudden establishment of a dogam to organize a jinchan for the returning heroes from the northern border.

With the anticipated attendance of the royal family in the morning banquet, you were forced to rise at dawn to prepare for your participation for the festivity.

Shortly after the attendants have finished braiding your hair, your morning tea was served just before you are set to leave your quarters.

“There will be two more banquets after the event in the morning, Your Highness.” Hyowon, one of the court ladies attending to your daily nourishment answers when you absentmindedly voiced out your thought as she pours a tea on your cup.

Fortunately, you were not foolish enough to utter the name of the man who’s been haunting your dreams since time immemorial. She may only be a distant relative of Jungkook, but the same blood runs thick in their veins and you wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of anyone, much less to anyone related to him.

You nodded, taking your cup and hold it up to your lips.

Traditionally, the nighttime festivity is said to be the most anticipated from all sorts of celebrations as the audience who are commonly from noble descent look forward on the performances of high-class entertainers. Jungkook is obligated to attend all the events for the day as one of the honorary guests of the jinchan.

The supposed banquet is going to be your first attendance in a political gathering ever since you were given the title of a gongju on your seventh birthday. The thought was making you uneasy in some way in case something unforeseen transpires during the celebration, that it would be denunciated by the curse you were forced to live with in your lifetime. However, the thought of him present in the same room with you brings more in disarray.

A court lady from the dogam came to escort you to the reception afterwards. And not long after the arrival of Queen, the massive doors of the dining hall flew opened, revealing the King as he enter the premises.

Perhaps, you would still have had a clear view on whole expanse of the dining hall if not for the ivory article covering the totality of the platform where you and the rest of the royal palace women.

Meals have been simultaneously served just as the King had announced the ceremonial toast indicating the beginning of the celebration. An instrumental piece played by the musicians proceeded after, keeping the atmosphere pleasantly solemn despite the audible chatters in the hall.

From your seat, you could only see the king’s back as he led the banquet—sitting at the head of the table while the rest of the state and military officials sat in two long sets of vertically-arranged sobans. Despite the barrier, it was not difficult for you to locate where the man of your thoughts was settled at just by the mere sight of his silhouette. There he was beside Prince Taehyung, seemingly fascinated with the performances on the center if not occupied with something Prince Taehyung was telling him.

You could never change the way you treated him so poorly, yesterday. Your hostility was uncalled for, but perhaps, it was enough to displease him enough to lose his interest in you.

“You are not eating your meal, Gongju. Are the dishes not to your liking?” Princess Consort Sooyoung asks. Unlike you, your sister-in-law seems to enjoy the sumptuous serving on the soban, as opposed to your lack of enthusiasm on the food.

“It’s not that. Perhaps, it was too early for me to consume anything solid after I had my morning the tea.”

You drag your hand up on the table, picking up the pair of chopsticks to nestle them in between your fingers. To ease her worry, you attempted to touch the sweet flavored delicacy among the servings.

The banquet progressed rather slowly. As hours passed by, your legs grew numb from the lack of physical movement. It didn’t help that the remnants of muscle aches from your intimacy with Jungkook still lingers. Your sister-in-law caught the discomfort in your expression.

“Gongju,” Princess Consort Sooyoung calls for your attention, once more.

Tearing your gaze away from Jungkook, you tilt your head on the side to meet her solicitous eyes.

“Is your breathing alright? I noticed your heaving has frequented.”

“Uhh...I’m alright, Bubuin.” You falter. Instinctively, your eyes flew back to where he was situated. Your sister-in-law followed the trail of your gaze, and it was only then that she had pieced together the reason.

She chuckles softly, “I thought you were having difficulty with your breathing.”

Your face incredibly flushed with her words.

She didn’t attempt to speak to you after that, seemingly distracted in one of the ceremonial performances of the banquet.

Three hours later, the first phase of the jinchan had finally come to conclude to your relief.

When it was your turn to be escorted out of the hall, you couldn’t help but skim your eyes across the expansive lot. Of course, the chances of running into him are very slim to none. Not only that he was in a rush to leave the reception, but he would also take the path on the west out of the palace while you would take the opposite direction to go back to your quarters.

You thought wrong. Because the moment you arrive at the entrance of the Gyeongbok, you catch on the back of his frame on the small stretch between the library and the tall concrete wall.

Your heart instantly jumped at the mere sight of him adorned on the same uniform he wore the day before. But something didn’t make sense. What is he doing in the main palace—hiding there right after the banquet has ended?

The court lady remained still behind you as you tried to build up the courage to approach him. Perhaps, apologize for your behavior yesterday. But then as he shifted on his feet, you caught a glimpse of a hanbok across him— appearing nothing like the clothing of any man. A lady.

“You have the freedom to choose any woman in your life.”

Your own words hurriedly came rushing back on you, nearly losing your footing when the weight on your chest grew heavier. You couldn’t breathe.

“Princess—” you jumped at the sound of a low baritone voice from behind, the same voice you’ve known by heart since you were little.

Sheepishly, you turned to face your brother, his forehead crumpled causing his eyebrows to meet into a line.

“You looked like you’ve seen an apparition,” Prince Taehyung jests, with his face remaining passive without a trace of playfulness despite his obvious teasing.

That’s because you did! You seethed, internally. With an ugly emotion slowly seeping through your veins, you find it difficult to display indifference as if something—someone was not putting you in an emotional distress.

“Your Excellency,” you greeted half-heartedly.

“You are aware about the luncheon tomorrow, right? I am expecting you in my courtyard, little flower.”

“Of course,” You briefly answered. His face finally stretched into a grin, ruffling your neatly braided hair before bidding a farewell.

When you spun back to peer at the spot where Jungkook and his female companion were standing— nothing. No one was there anymore. Jungkook is gone, and so is the lady he was with.

The scene remained etched in your brain the rest of your day. Being unable to stay still in the confines of your quarters, you decided to do readings in in the library.

You were alone, just like what you have asked to your attendants, with the exception of a guard outside. Shortly after going through the shelves in the House of Yi section, you once again stumbled upon a book of biographical sketches after secretly reading the book several years ago. The sight of it alone refreshes your memory of the things you have discovered written in the pages of the books—specifically about Princess Moyoung, your grandfather’s eldest sister who slowly died in the hands of her husband who was born from a fourth class family.

It was said to be the matter that pressured the next royal generations to marry off any king’s daughter to a yangban which was prohibited prior to the princess’ unfortunate case to avoid any arising political conflicts.

It was the same thought that bothered you even when you had gone back in your quarters, bathed, and dressed in your night robe. If your father were still living, would he insist on keeping you in the palace? Or would he allow your supposed matrimonial union with Jimin over one with Jungkook?

However, you understand that either selection is a sacrifice. Life is about losing something to gain something else. You know what will be taken from you if you were to possibly end up with Jungkook. But what could you have possibly gained if you were to lose the man who owns your soul? An extravagant life with the prince?

The ache in your heart has sat idly in your chest since this morning. Your time in the library seemed to have worsened your distress as pain starts to sear in your head.

You stood up. Your attendant mimicking your movement to smoothen the sleeves of your silk robe. “I do not wish to be followed,” you simply say. They crouched their upper body low, conveying a silent message of obedience.

As you pass through the L-shaped corridor leading to the outdoor of your quarters, the rectangular hallway making up the main pathway of the courtyard is eerily quiet and empty. With subtle luminance provided by the light torches on each post you passed by, it was just as exactly the way you expected Gyeongbok during this time around. The reason why you chose to be alone since no one else will run into your way this time of night.

However, at your third turn, just as you enter the borderline of the queen’s courtyard, you hear a distinct sound of door opening from afar followed by the heavy, collective footsteps ringing in the air. As the footsteps grew louder, you hurriedly ran to the side of the greenhouse to hide, afraid of being seen without a companion to look after your care.

“Your Majesty!”

You bite your lip as your heartbeat picks up at the sound of a male voice—assumingly the queen’s eunuch, as if in desperation to stop Her Majesty to wherever she intends to go at this hour.

You didn’t know how long you were hiding there at the side of the greenhouse but it wasn’t long enough for you to be able to hold your breath until the traces of the footsteps were fading.

When any sign of human sound was out of earshot, you finally heave a sigh out of relief, taking a solid peek through the corner of the wooden wall to confirm your guess. Considering the pathway clear and safe from any presence, you cautiously proceed back to your footpath.

Merely focused on either side of your vision, you failed to sense that someone was making their way onto your direction. Their presence became known only when your arm was snatched from behind and a calloused palm right away covered your mouth, losing your chance to call for help. Panic immediately surges through your veins, your shock causing you to freeze momentarily.

Even without having a single look at your perpetrator, the feel of his thick arm around your waist lets you know you don’t stand a chance against their immense built and incredible strength. Just as you recovered from your shock, you frantically squirmed about against their hold but the more you struggle, the tighter their arm gets around your waist, pulling you flushed against their body.

“Why is Lady Yi- being punished?” Demanded Queen Soheon the moment she stepped foot inside the King’s quarters.

King Namjoon sprang up to his feet to meet her half-way, concern stirring immediate in him at the sight of his wife, noting the way her voice unusually croaked and holding such heavy emotion. He silently curses, taking notice how upset she had seemed to be over the scandal the concubine had caused all to herself.

“Sit down, my love. You shouldn’t allow your emotions to run high, it’s not good for your condition.”

Queen Soheon is always calm and graceful no matter how grave the situation is. He had not once witnessed her lose her innate grace ever since he married her, with the exception of the times he was intimate with her.

“Why?” She repeated, her eyes burning with fire.

“My love—”

“Jeonha, please… stop with your sweet filters and answer me why you didn’t stop them from forcing her to drink the medicine?”

He sighs just as he attempted to place her in his embrace. To his dismay, she pulled a good amount of distance between them, clearly setting the line of her anger on the matter, right straight to him.

How can he possibly be sure you would never find this matter out when only a slip of a tongue can give her the idea of what transpired some hours ago.

“You know I cannot disrespect Halma-mama’s power when it comes to the women in the inner court.”

As the Grand Royal Dowager Queen holds the highest rank in the inner court, it would only be necessary to say his grandmother ordered the punishment, when in fact it was never her idea to impose a harsh discipline on the concubine. However, the appeal of the elders in the inner court to decide on the fate of her unlawful conceiving resulted in a consensus decision to abort the unborn child. Unless the queen is proven to be sterile, the inner court strictly prohibits the harem to carry a King’s child.

“She is carrying your child!”

He knows that, very well. But he wished his wife would refrain from carrying the weight of her emotions as it might put a toll on her health and consequently affect their unborn child. “Calm down,” King Namjoon prompted cautiously.

He could never forgive himself for failing to protect his unborn child from being stripped off the chance to live in a world where his/her father rules out a kingdom. Never in this lifetime and in the next would he ever learn to spare himself the forgiveness.

“You know, Lady Li and I are both with child. If I were not your queen, you’d simply allow them to get rid of my child, would you not?”

He reaches out, once more. “No, no. Of course, not. Not under my watch.”

But the queen was quick enough to retract from the close proximity.

Perhaps, he was right. He cannot have the power to overrule the inner court, but why does his words feel insincere? It made her suddenly fear for her own child’s life despite the position she holds. When her mother warned her about the sickening life in the palace and the doctrines in the inner court, she never thought it would come to this extent.

How can she look at his family and pretend everything is alright. One wrong move and might lose her child as well.

All too suddenly, she could feel herself slowly being overwhelmed with disgust, needing the urge to throw up.

She couldn’t stand being here, to see anyone just yet. She fixes a glare at her attendants, warning them not to follow her. Her eyes lingered on him for a second before she took a swift turn, exiting her way out of the vicinity.

With quick strides, he followed her trail, only to spin back around, skimming through each one of servants in his quarters.

“No one must follow me or the queen,” his eyes particularly burned at his eunuch. “Do you understand?” He glowered, not waiting for them to answer as he too disappeared into the halls of his royal residence.

When you felt their grasp loosening, you began thrashing out as fear dominated your senses. Even with their hand pressed firmly on your mouth, you could hear your own sobs croaking out of your throat. And as if your pellucid fear had triggered them to stiffen, their hold around your waist loosened. But the adrenaline running in your senses all vanished the moment they finally spoke.

“Jagiya.”

Your eyes went round, recognizing the owner of the voice. He lets his hand fall from your mouth.

”J-Jungkook?” you hesitated. While you remained flushed against his body, you couldn’t be sure of their identity.

Swiftly, he spun you around to confirm your assumption for yourself. The light torches were a little far where you two stood but there was no denying it was him, judging by the little features of his face you could make out through the help of the vibrant moon lighting up in the sky behind him.

Yet, his action had already shaken you up, feeling the loud beating of your heart. All of your emotional baggage rushing all at once, you couldn’t help but lash out to him, seeing his chest as a target to release all your frustrations.

“Why did you do that?! I thought I was being kidnapped,” you anguished, horror remained etched on your face.

He took all your hits without a fight as guilt all too sudden consumed him after realizing the effect of what he had done. “I’m sorry, Jagiya. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he murmurs, drying the moisture on the corners of your eyes with his thumbs. The moon was like a spotlight focused solely on yours, giving him the clear view of your weary face.

It wasn’t long before you calmed down. Now, all you feel is shame as your anger washes out of your system with every hit of your fist against his chest. Your head bobbed lower, “Just... don’t do that, again.”

Hearing him whisper a promise not to repeat the same mistake, you all but give him a curt nod, allowing the silence to fill in the moment.

Jungkook, once again, made you upset, the second time he had gotten himself close to you after his return to the capital. Must he keep making you in anguish just whenever he’s around you? It was wrong of him to catch your attention the way he had just done when he could’ve simply called you out to do it. But after seeing the queen and her maids passing by the same path you’re about to take, he didn’t want to make an unnecessary sound in case anyone’s lurking around without him seeing through the vicinity covered in almost pitch black.

He wondered why you seemed determined to go on your way despite going on around without a company.

“Where are you going—”

“What are you doing here—”

You stilled just as he was surprised to hear you spoke the same time he decided to break the silence.

“I saw you going out of your quarters.” He simply answered. It was true. He left the festive banquet at the east to randomly visit your residence. He knew it would be unnecessary to invite himself into the premises so he just stood there, particularly waiting for nothing to kill time before he leaves the palace.

But then he saw the outermost doors of your residence opening, revealing none other than the subject of his thoughts. Then the rest was history.

“W-What? Are you spying on me?”

“Spying?” He chuckles at your choice of your words. He would’ve honestly accepted stalking better. “The banquet’s getting too loud to my liking. I’d rather spend my time with you. Mayhaps, luck is finally on my side when I saw you just in time— going out.”

Hearing his words earned a scoff from you. Wasn't he just with a woman this morning? Not to mention, it was one of the reasons why you randomly sought the need to breathe in some fresh air on a cold, winter night.

“I guess if you’re not distracted with your prince, you would have immediately caught the sound of my footing. Where are you going, anyway? Will you go see him?”

Your mouth parted in disbelief, “You didn’t hear anything from me when you were the one hiding with a woman just this morning.”

Hiding with a woman? For a second, his forehead crumpled in thought, recalling his activities prior to this moment. He couldn’t seem to remember when he actually hid with a woman. He didn’t even talk to any woman earlier in the morning, except for a friend—

“Ahh,” He hums in understanding, “Jagi, I’m not hiding with Mina—”

“Mina?”

He recalls speaking with Mina after the latter who belonged to the group of gisaengs during the banquet who recognized him inside the reception and was only able to catch up after him at the entrance main palace. Mina enthusiastically dragged him behind the closest infrastructure to briefly speak to him in peace without potentially attracting an audience.

“I met her a long time ago. Jagiya—“

“Forget it,” you immediately dismissed, but with him not missing the way color bloomed on your cheeks. “It’s not my business to hold it against you. You’re free to do as you wish.”

Are you being serious? How can you think he can be possibly interested to another woman?

He tilts your chin up so he can see your pretty eyes, clearly. “What are you saying, Jagiya? I thought we’ve already established that I’m yours. Have I not?”

He heard no answer from you, but didn’t miss the subtle shake of your head.

“No?” He echoes, the frown on his face deepens. Still, you refused to speak nor return the heavy weight of his peer.

“Our lovemaking wasn’t enough, was it?” His sudden brought up to the matter which should never be spoken of made you dart your eyes back up at him. There it was again, the same emotions reflecting in your eyes the morning when you put a cold shoulder at him. He couldn’t quite decipher the signals you were giving him.

“Jungkook, we’re not together anymore.”

“Then would you rather be with the prince over me?”

You look away, even though you really wanted to give an answer.

“I haven’t seen your beautiful smile since I came back, Jagi. But you were smiling a lot around him. Gods, was I jealous when you showed him of such privilege I was deprived of.” He groans, slowly inching his face closer, as if testing your reaction to his advance.

He took your lack of withdrawal as a sign to keep going. Silently, you gave him the freedom to intrude your personal space.

“You saw us,” you murmur, confirming it to yourself more than throwing it as a question to him.

Your jaw went slack, shamelessly anticipating for his lips to touch yours. Closer. Until your noses bumping, his mouth a breath away from touching your plump lips. It almost happened. Almost. Because just as he shifts his head a centimeter forward, finally capturing your awaiting lips with his, a cry of protest loudly resonated through the air, echoing as the sound bounces back from the empty silence.

“Stop following me!” The voice was undoubtedly owned by a woman.

If Jungkook didn’t recognize the voice, you certainly did. Her voice was too familiar for you not to identify her as the Queen, forcing you to draw back from the proximity immediately. Once again, panic courses through you, rapidly consuming your senses as fear worsened your capability to think rationally in a situation such as this.

Your wide eyes stared back Jungkook in a silent plea.

It wasn’t clear to you how far she was from both of you, but the nearing claps of footsteps tells you the queen and whoever was following her are passing by behind the greenhouse. If they decided to take a turn right across where you two stood, they will certainly not miss the sight of you seemingly in a rendezvous with Jungkook.

“I said—Jeonha!”

You gasp, slapping a hand to your mouth, utterly stunned at what you just heard. Jeonha? Does that mean she was addressing her order to your brother?

“The K-King is here...” you stammer.

He hushed you, silently telling you to keep still as he cages you against the outer wall of the greenhouse, as if shielding you from any potential eyesight. He was too close as he let his head hang low just beside the shell of your ear. You could hear his heavy breathing, the warmth oozing naturally from his body seemed to calm your nerves in some way, nearly forgetting about the predicament both of you are in, nearly missing the silence lingering in the air.

Are they gone?

Despite your pellucid reaction, Jungkook seems not one bit shaken by the fact you two are a thread away from being seen together in the dark.

Suddenly, he shifted onto your left, breaking his manmade territory around you to move further away from where you two were supposed to be hiding.

“Jungkook!” you desperately called for his attention in a panicked whisper.

Nervously, you watch his back as he extends his neck to peep behind the greenhouse. It didn’t take him long before he whirled back around, and in a flash, grapples your wrist and dragged you into the opposite direction.

“Where are we going?”

Though Jungkook could hear the agitation in your tone, he ignored your question, averting his focus to hide you and make no sound at all. The couple turned out to be closer than he had guessed them to be.

Just as he stopped in front of the doors of the greenhouse, he heard you argue about his choice of hiding spot, but ignored you for the second time.

In a calculated shuffling on the rusted bar keeping the twin panel of doors closed, he flicked it up, allowing him to push one of the doors open. The firm grip of his fingers on your waist was all you could focus on as he urged you to enter inside the greenhouse. Carefully, he pushed the door back closed, dragging you with it as he pressed your back against the cold surface. His hands on both sides of your head as he rests his forehead against the door, just above your shoulder. You couldn’t see much of the view behind him because of the lack of light inside. But the moonlight seeping through the transparent roofing of the greenhouse was enough to give you the faintest possible light to make out the features of his frame.

“It was too quiet, isn’t it? I thought the queen and king were gone.”

“We were intruding them,” he simply replied.

“W-What?”

He shifted his head to the side and before you knew it, a pair of warm lips touched yours in fervor. Jungkook has never been this bold before to break your personal space nor touches without asking your permission.

Years without seeing him, you understand that he might have grown into a persona different from what you know of him. When you saw him that weary day after four years, you picked up a sense of strangeness in his aura. Perhaps, it is his confidence or the powerful aura he naturally emits that made you speechless.

Groaning as the feel of your mouth accelerated the temperature of his body, Jungkook deepens the kiss with his tongue pushing passed your parted lips.

The way he held you in place, with his hands on your face and his torso locking you firm against the door, you didn’t expect him to withdraw from the kiss so soon which resulted in a soft breathy whine to slip out of your throat.

“Perhaps that answered your question,” he says, picking up the teasing tone in his voice. Jungkook dipped his head lower, burying his head on the crook of your neck to press a warm, wet kiss on the same spot he bruised purple two nights ago.

grand royal dowager queen - spouse of a former king; presently the king’s grandmother Halma-mama - how the royal grandchildren address their grandmother gongju - title of a princess bubuin - title of princess consort (wife of a prince) gisaeng - female entertainer yangban - any nobleman holding a government position dogam - a committee/body authorized to organize a royal event jinchan - other term for royal banquet soban - other term for a traditional table used in joseon era hanji - other term for traditional korean paper Changdeok - East Palace Gyeongbok - Main Palace/main residence of the royal family

note: after posting 4 chapters of the series, im finally opening a tag list skskssksjsj hahaahaha if u lovelies want to be tagged in the future chapters, send me your url here.

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justice4harwin · 4 years ago

Text

Light's Corruption- Chapter IV

Pairing: The DarklingxAlina

Summary:With few friends at the Little Palace, Alina must work to win the favour of her fellow grisha and their commander, who makes her feel light headed every time she sees him.

After training in Os Alta for two years, the king grows tired of waiting and demands the Sun Summoner joins a western post near the Fjerdan border along with the rest of The Second Army to test her abilities.

Something happens. Suddenly, Alina wants blood to run down the rivers and those who stand in her and The Darkling’s way will be blinded by her light and swallowed by his shadows.

It won’t be pretty

Rating: 18+

Click here for chapter 3

Tags are in the comment section. If you dont wanna be there or wanna be added please let me know 😊

Anyways, I hope you like this one. I'm really excited over a particular scene 😏😏

Chapter 4: golden butterfly, black rose

Alina woke up with a new purpose: to observe and listen.

She hastily threw the blankets and sheets off of her and put on her kefta as she realized she might be late for breakfast.

Running down the stairs, hair a mess, the Sun Summoner smiled and greeted everyone on her path.

Some replied. Others just stared oddly.

She entered the hall to find that, as usual, Marie and Nadia had left a seat empty between them. Alina gingerly took it.

"Good morning!"

They gave her smiles as they reciprocated the greeting.

"You're in a good mood today." Nadia noticed, taking her spoon.

"I slept like a baby." she lied. She hadn't gotten that much sleep -Genya must've gotten even less- but she felt good that day.

Just the day before, she had been able to summon on her own for the first time, and she had to stay positive if she wanted to accomplish her new mission.

She engaged more in the chatter with the grisha women that day, venturing so far as to reply with questions of her own to get to know them better.

"I didn't know you had a brother, Nadia." she said, genuinely surprised as they made their way to Botkin's stables.

The woman nodded with a half-annoyed, half-endearing smile.

"He's grisha too. A few years younger, so he's still at school. His name's Adrik."

"Is he a Squaller too?"

Nadia confirmed that he was, because of course, the little rat had to copy everything about his older sister.

Alina laughed at that.

"The little girl seems very happy for someone who's about to get into a fight?" were the words with which Botkin received her.

Alina fought back the need to recoil. The only time she had won so far had been against Zoya, …if one could consider that a win given what happened right after.

"Maybe I'll be lucky today." she beamed at him.

Botkin seemed almost surprised.

"Positivity is fine, little girl, but you need to focus during a fight. But first." he clapped his hands twice, immediately getting all the attention. "Run around the lake. Twice. The last one to get back here will help the stable hands for the rest of the day."

Alina really ran like never before that day.

Her side hurt, and she almost felt like she wasn't getting enough air; but after the first half, her legs didn't burn so much anymore, and she felt almost as good as she did when walking.

"Damn, Starkov." she turned her head to see that Michail, a heartrender with a hard-shaped face and kind, green eyes, was easily keeping up with her. "When did you get this fast?"

"Practice." she said, a little breathless but feeling nice with the cold air slapping against her face. "Besides, I really don't wanna end up in the stables."

He laughed at that.

"That makes two of us. I hate those animals."

Alina frowned. She just didn't wanna clean up their shit, but other than that, she could find nothing wrong with horses.

"Why?"

"Those long faces," he said, gesturing over his own. "they're scary."

"You're scared of horses?!" she asked, disbelieving.

"Why don't you yell it a little louder?" he asked, looking around at the disperse group, but he was smirking. They weren't at the front, but they weren't slagging at the back either.

"Sorry." she leaned in. "I'll keep your secret if you help me not to be the last."

"I don't think you need my help," he laughed. "but sure."

She got knocked down on her ass by a short Inferni woman with dark blonde hair, but Alina laughed it off, hiding her embarrassment, and stretched out a hand. The Inferni rose an eyebrow and then helped her up.

"Thanks." she told her, dusting off the back of her kefta.

"For kicking your ass?"

"Hey, I think I did learn a thing or two." she winked. "Next time I'll be ready."

"Oh, so you want a rematch?" the woman asked, amused, as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"If you're up for it." Alina shrugged.

"Deal." they shook hands. "But it'll have to wait until we're done with him." she said, nodding towards Botkin, who was busy making rounds, watching the others. "I'm Natasha, by the way."

"Alina."

"Oh, I know. Everyone knows." she smiled once more before retreating to a small group of Inferni that had reunited by a corner.

As she passed by the lake in her usual route to Baghra's hut, Alina got startled by the damage she had done to the perfectly green grass. Gardeners were still at work getting rid of the black mass she had left in her path, going so far as to dig into the earth. They saw her passing and glanced up, some frightened, others definitely not amused.

"I am so sorry." she whispered frantically, before hurrying her steps.

"Don't let the heat out!" was all the greeting she got from the ancient woman.

Alina closed the door and hurried to the chair that awaited her. She was smiling.

"I don't think that will be a problem." she said, proud of herself.

She scoffed. "So I have heard. Show me." she said, hitting her in the arm with her cane.

"Ouch!"

With a nasty frown, Alina placed her palms in front of the others and called the light that she had rejected for so long. So eager to answer, her power rushed through and out of her, and she was almost puzzled by its intensity. She focused on keeping the orb small.

"Uh. Well, it took you long enough."

"A 'Congratulations' would be nice."

She got hit again. Her light wavered and then solidified again.

"Congratulations? What? Do you want a parade thrown in your honour as well? For what? Doing what you were supposed to do your entire life? Shut up and expand the orb. Make it encompass the entire place."

With deep breaths, both to concentrate and control her anger, Alina steadily expanded her light, making it fill the hut.

"Bend it to its shape."

Carefully, she tried to do as she was told.

"You were right, about being held back." she uttered as she tried to shape her light to blend in with the walls.

"I know." the woman said, petulant. "Now call it back and repeat until there is no effort to it."

Alina tried, and tried again, but as eager as her power was to explode, her body was eager for a long, long nap. There had been so much repression, so much denial for so many years, that it was as if the light wanted to just explode out of her body and consume it all.

It scared her a little, but she focused.

The Darkling had told her she was magnificent, Alina remembered, and he had made it sound like she was capable of anything.

The way his grey eyes shone with such intensity, like he wanted to engulf her into his arms and have her all to his own, the way in which his hand felt against hers, or how just even being next to him made her want to lean into and over him like a lazy, overly clingy cat.

She'd lay on top of him all day if she could.

Alina wondered what would've happened if Genya hadn't arrived at the moment she did. Would The Darkling had kissed her? What would his lips taste like? How would his beard feel against her skin? Just exactly how good was he with his tongue?

Alina blushed. The light flickered, as if excited at the mere idea of the man.

She had kissed a few people before, but him, there was something about him that told her that if he should kiss her only once, she'd spend the rest of her life running after the very same sensation and more.

"Dreaming about your dark prince again?"

She looked at Baghra.

"What?" looking around, she noticed that her light had expanded farther than the hut and she was glowing.

Alina snapped her hands, and everything was dark again. Her fingers tingled with power, her eyelids closed with exhaustion.

"I-I wasn't-" she blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the new environment.

"Stupid, stupid girl. You need to focus on your task."

"I'd concentrate better if I wasn't being hit every five min-OUCH!"

"Do not make excuses with me. You are lazy, easily distracted, you do not know what you are getting yourse-"

"You know, for someone who's supposed to be such a great teacher, I've still got to see some actual teaching." Alina snapped. "All you do is yell at me, hit me and belittle me; yet one conversation with The General I can finally summon." the brunette spat, each word more angrier than the previous one. "So don't try to blame me for your shortcomings."

Baghra was silent, nostrils flaring. When it looked like she might raise her cane and hit Alina right in the head with it, she opened her thin lips instead:

"Out." she uttered, almost inaudible. "Out! And do not come back!"

"Gladly!"

Alina stood up and marched for the door, her steps almost as loud as the insults the old woman was throwing after her.

"Stupid girl! Unconscious! Just another pawn of his! You never learn! Lazy! Stupid! Blind!"

It was a good thing the old crone couldn't see the tears of frustration and shame in her eyes.

She was on her way back to the Little Palace, trying to decide if she should bathe or go to the library first.

Baghra’s words still rang in her head.

Maybe, if she was quick, really quick with her bath,...but then again, she was getting too used to such a luxury, that once in there it was quite difficult to leave unless the water turned cold.

But if she went to the library, she’d be there until the words blurred and her eyes burned.

On the other hand, there were other grisha in the library, and she couldn’t afford to walk in there smelling like-

"Alina?"

General Kirigan's smooth voice had her turning on her heels, hand still massaging the spot on her arm Baghra's cane had so harshly landed. She had managed to hold back the tears, but the woman's word still stung.

"Moi Soverennyi." She greeted but forgot to bow.

He looked at her arm.

"How was your lesson?"

"I spent months with her and nothing; five minutes with you and I can summon." She basically spat, still bitter at Baghra's harsh words. "I think that speaks for itself."

He smiled, almost.

"Give the old woman some credit. She is good at what she does."

"Terrorizing isn't teaching." she replied, and then, with her head high, added: "She didn't get me to summon."

"No." The Darkling agreed, taking a step towards her. All engulfed in his black cloak, he almost seemed to float. "You did it. It was all you." He said it with such reverence that her breath became shallow.

She didn't look away from his eyes. The storms swirling in there were magnetic. There was so much going on in there at the moment, yet it all sped up through those grey orbs so fast she couldn't make sense of it.

"Why don't you teach me?" The words slipped from her tongue before she could think better of it.

He rose an eyebrow, taking another predatory step towards her.

"I serve the King. I run an entire army. I do not have the time to train everyone personally, nor would I want anyone to think they are favoured above others."

He was so close to her now, she had to crane her neck to look up.

"You once said there was no one else like us; who could be a better teacher?"

In truth, she also wanted to see him more often. Glimpses as he passed through the Little Palace or left Os Alta, and the occasional conversation weren't enough for her.

"You flatter me, Miss Starkov."

"I only state my opinion." she took a step, shortening the distance, like he was a magnet calling for her.

Mirth shone in his eyes. It made her smile.

"I will be going away for a few weeks." At this, her smile fell, and his formed as he tilted her chin up with his gloved fingers.

Alina stared up into his eyes, dark with something.

"I'll miss you." She whispered, foolishly, without thought.

"Will you?" He asked, almost perplexed for a moment.

She found herself nodding.

"I know we don't get much chance to talk, but I like talking to you." She confessed, a knot in her throat. "You understand all,...this." she flickered her fingers and a tiny orb of light formed above her hand.

His eyes followed suit, almost fascinated, like he still couldn't quite believe her power was real. And when he looked at her, it was like he couldn't believe she was real.

His hand rose and shadows swallowed her light. Alina watched them dance, entranced by his power, and noticed it taking shape.

"For you." The Darkling said, handing her a black rose, from the base of its steam to the very last petal. "To remember me by while I am gone."

Disbelieving, she reached out and gasped as she touched the shadow. There was a little bit of gold in there, her own power hidden within, shimmering weakly here and there.

"I don't have anything to give you." She said, lamenting.

He leaned down, his beard rough against her soft cheek.

"Trust me, Alina," he whispered, her name on his lips against her ear making her tremble. "I could not forget you if I tried."

There was the whisper of a kiss against her cheek that seemed to linger for the longest moment, …and then he was leaving, cloak flipping behind him as he left the sun Summoner holding onto a small piece of shadow and a piece of her heart gone with him.

Click here for chapter Five

#shadow and bone #alina starkov #the Darkling #darklina #alina x aleksander #darkling x alina #fanfic #shadow and bone fanfic

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chocolate-parfait · 4 years ago

Note

Hiii! I saw that your requests are open, and I want to ask for a Mozart scenario 👉👈. MC/Reader (whichever you prefer) has gone back to her time for a long time (even tho she wasn’t planning for long) but when she comes back she also has Mozart’s kid in her arms (but everyone knows before him coz he is obviously at his piano lmao). So the residents plan to surprise him? If it’s too specific feel free to ignore this. Make sure you sleep sufficiently and drink some water😗😗 thank u in advance :)

Sorry it took me so long! I barely had the time to sleep this past month😳 I hope it was worth the wait-

A gift from Fate - Ikemen Vampire (Mozart)

“I don’t think we should listen in on them...” The cherry haired man whispered.

“Shh Ai-chan. Mozie-kun might hear us!”

“Tofu lover here is right, old Newt. And how could we pass up a chance of seeing that cold-hearted wolf shed a tear or two? It’s a once in a lifetime occasion!” Added the writer, resting his left hand on the scientist’s shoulder.

“Ugh, why did I even ask you two, of all people... Sebastian, tell them something already!” Isaac lamented once more.

“Unfortunately, Master Isaac, I’m afraid to say I’m quite curious myself to see Master Mozart’s reaction. It’s for scientific purpose, after all.”

“For what?” Nine pairs of eyes flew to the butler’s figure.

“Oh, nevermind that.”

"Leonardo, would you mind throwing your cigar away? They'll catch the smell of it" Comte’s placid tone filled the small space.

"What, you curious too, "Comte"? Heh, as his majesty desires" Leonardo complied, putting out his cigarillo against the ground with a dramatic gesture, gaining a displeased glance from the nobleman.

"...thank you. Oh, I believe he's almost there. Everybody, please be quiet."

As their sire spoke these words, all the vampires got closer to the small opening of the door. Some could barely see anything, but the wooden surface was thin enough to let any and all sounds reach the hidden listeners’ attentive ears.

The person that had them all hidden in a small storage room adjacent to the parlor was none other than Mozart. The love of his life had just returned from the future with a surprise of a companion glued to her side, but the man was yet to show his face. He had been, as always ever since her departure a couple of years before, focused on composing his tunes, now devoid of their old brightness and tempo, just like the composer himself.

It was as clear as day that, although his external composure remained unchanged, his heart had decided to freeze himself, a thick layer of frozen indifference to hide a pain akin to that of being torn in half, cruelly and mercilessly. Whenever he let his guards down even the slightest bit, he found himself on a battlefield over which time had no influence whatsoever, and where the ice and snow perfectly preserved the destruction and desolation born from his loss. The blood from a still fresh and open wound laid on the ground, as strong winds hit him with the warm whispers of a long-lost sun, nowhere to be seen.

That was the devastated state in which his being was left in, unaware of the sympathetic smile Fate was now offering him.

That day, a mysterious note found its way between the pianist’s hands, the words “Meet me at 18.00 in the parlor. It’s a matter of utmost importance” written in an impeccable cursive of other times, clearly belonging to one of the many inhabitants of the mansion. When it came to such intimate business, they usually preferred keeping a certain distance from unfolding events, but seeing the hesitation and fear of rejection on the woman’s face, they had all agreed to lend her a hand and give a little pull on the red string that connected the two lovers.

As punctual as ever, when the clock’s hands moved to the predetermined time, Mozart knocked stiffly on the door, finally making his entrance in the scene.

Barely two steps in the room and he found himself stuck in place, incredulous eyes fixed on the feminine figure in front of him. His violet eyes immediately found her face, and his body moved towards hers, attracted by an invisible force that had kept them tied to each other in spite of time and space. She was still as beautiful as he remembered, though his feverish dreams and hazy memories couldn’t hold a candle to the real her.

As impatience shook his body with a strong wave of trembles, with a quick movement he trapped her in a soul-crushing embrace that overflowed with all his longing and love; as his arms tightly caged her to his torso, he nuzzled her neck, finding her warm skin with the cold tip of his nose.

One deep inhale, then another. And another one.

She smelled divine.

Oh, how he had missed that dazzlingly sweet scent, those soft locks tickling his pale cheeks now flush with various emotions, that small pair of arms circling his body and squeezing him tightly. Was this a dream? Had he finally reached the afterlife for a second time? If so then he didn’t want to go back. If living in an illusion meant being with her then he was ready to throw away the real world with no second thoughts. But this, this was real. His mind had already acknowledged it, leaving the heart behind to process its own feelings.

“Meine Geliebte-” (my beloved)

“Mozart-”

They said in unison, voices mixing with harmony in a euphonious melody.

As he pulled back a little to look her in the eyes, a small voice came from behind her body. “Mama...” When Mozart lowered his eyes to meet the small figure’s, he was met with a small child, around 4 or 5 years of age. Before his thoughts could even reach the idea of betrayal, he couldn’t help but notice how every single feature, although still not fully developed, was a mixture of one of his and his lover’s own. The similarity was painfully clear, but once more the brain outrun the heart, and Mozart felt his heartbeat fall to his stomach.

“This is...” The woman started with a wavering voice, maybe from the emotion or perhaps because of insecurity. “This is our son, Charles.”

“Our... son...?” The pianist slowly repeated, trying to give more time to his now nearly-exploding heart.

Bending down to meet those violet orbs so similar to his own, he smiled fondly, reaching a hand out to slowly caress the boy’s head. As he did so, a myriad of realizations hit Mozart like a carriage running at full speed. He could not believe he had missed his son’s birth, his first steps, his first words. The fruit of their love, a life born out of their union. No amount of apologies and care could give him back all that, and the thought brought tears to his eyes.

“Papa! No leave Mama anymore!” The boy suddenly pleaded as he threw himself between his father’s arms. Oh, but of course he wouldn't. How could he? Not anymore. He wasn’t so stupid as to let that damned door separate them again, and not even God could part them anymore. But would the boy understand? He was but a stranger to him, and he did commit the terrible mistake of letting the only person he truly cared for slip away from his grasp once, so how could he blame him for having such thoughts?

“No, I won't. I promise you.” Placing a warm hand on his son's back, maybe as a way to seal his vow, he brought the small, trembling body closer to his chest, trying with all his might to instill in him the sense of security that only a father's embrace can give.

After silently witnessing the whole scene in solemn silence and stillness, smiles and some tears bloomed on the woman and the secret onlookers' faces. As the child shakily whimpered in his finally-found paternal figure's neck, his mother kneeled by his side, where Mozart's arm took her in as he pressed a chaste kiss on her lips. Their passionate reunion could wait for later that night, now all that mattered was being together, aware of each other's presence, warmth and smell. That was more than enough. “Thank you for coming back. Thank you for giving me another chance.”

Unfortunately for them though, an interruption soon came to disturb their peace. Low whispers came from behind the door, and the pianist's trained ear caught them with no effort.

"Woohoo, that was a good one, Wolfie!"

"Shouldn't we just go already? If he were to catch us he'd go on a rampage"

"Still, I wish I could give him a round of applause! It was really moving~"

Mozart turned his violet eyes, now chilly with cold annoyance, towards the source of the hushed voices, silencing them immediately. Though he would have to thank them for the note, he knew they wouldn't have let him hear the end of it with their teasing comments and jokes. Before his thoughts could take the highway to a possible massacre, Charles' brought his attention back to where it belonged.

"Papa... can you show me your piano?"

Such a simple request brought spring into his heart, once plunged into a state of eternal winter. Feeling his every cell overflowing with love and gratitude he simply nodded, adding: "Sure, shall we go?"

Well, his revenge could wait for later. Now he had a lot of catching up to do, both with his love and son, and making them wait longer was definitely unacceptable.

Perhaps Fate had truly decided to be a little kinder to him in his second life.

#my writing #ikevamp scenarios #ikevamp imagines #ikevamp headcanons #ikemen vampire #ikevamp mozart #wolfgang amadeus mozart #answered

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wanderingchocolateeclair · 3 years ago

Text

But again, he was just a little too late...

Hello!! I’m back and finally gathered the motivation to finish this! Here is one of the Izumi angsts that I keep on going on about!! It took me ages, but I decided that since I don’t think my motivation will let me make this any longer, I might as well bring it to a suitable end and post it for you to see :)

I hope you enjoy, I spent a little too long on this one (the other Izumi angst is a little longer but a bit more on the proper angsty side, so there’s that one to look forward to when it’s done!)

Warnings: mentions of death, destruction, panic, and death.

Tagging: @kiriderp @chaotic-trash-can @theshisthings (if anyone else would like to be tagged in any of my writing posts so you can see them, please let me know and I will happily do so!😊)

————————————

“Oi, Jeanist, slow down!! What the hell?!”

An exasperated Hawks yelled as he clung onto the side of the car seat, his body pressed closely against a very squashed Rumi, who was sprawled rather awkwardly over an even more squished Ryuko.

“Dude! Say something, for god’s sake! What’s going on?!!” Rumi shouted, trying to correct her posture but failing miserably. “I know that ya like to conceal stuff and hide things so people don’t worry but-”

“-this is getting rather concerning, Tsunagu.” Ryuko interrupted the rabbit hero, speaking the thought that was running through all of their minds as the blond man drove at incredibly high speeds down the highway.

“What’s going on?”

No answer.

“Tsunagu.”

Still no answer. The tall man’s hands clenched tighter around the steering wheel, his breath wavering slightly.

“HAKAMATA, FOR FUCKS SAKE-”

“-ALRIGHT! Bloody hell, Ryuko....” Tsunagu blurted out a reply, his hands shaking slightly as he tried to steady his voice. “....w-we just. I need- I need to get there....”

Ryuko sighed and her eyes softened slightly as she heard the vulnerability in the older man’s voice. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell, it’s just....I’m worried.”

“We all are....” Keigo chimed in informatively.

Tsunagu nodded his head and sighed. “I know, I know. It’s fine, Ryu, it’s my fault, I should’ve at least said something.”

The dragon hero chewed her lip and looked out the window, thinking back to what happened.

They’d all been waiting to be called for a mission of any sort and were interrupted by a hero message alert, simply informing them about an accident that had happened somewhere. This happened a lot and would notify heroes that were nearby so that they could be on standby for if aid was needed.

Now, all was well, until Jeanist read the message and received another immediately afterwards that contained information that the others were unaware of.

Ryuko observed as the man’s face went paler than ever as he read what had been sent to him, and she didn’t even have time to react or ask before being flung quickly into the back of his car along with the other two and told that it was ‘an emergency’.

“It was that alert, wasn’t it?” She muttered, not wanting to know the answer as she feared the worst. “Wait- Shinya, what about Shinya, where is he?”

Tsunagu winced at the harsh sound of the woman’s voice and prepared to answer but was cut off by Rumi as she gave her thoughts of what Ryuko had just said.

“Isn’t he on patrol around that area with Kamui and Mount Lady?” She questioned, yelping slightly as the car took another sharp turn and sent her flying straight to the other side of the car. “Augh...The message said it was only a small villain attack but it’s mainly the building that got demolished....though they said there were some casualties and injuries and such...”

Tsunagu’s chest grew tight and he started shaking even more at the thoughts that raced through his mind. ‘Oh god....no please.....please be safe...oh please, I beg you....’

“....look at the time...” the blond man whispered, his voice sounding even more vulnerable than before.

4:50pm.

What was so special about 4:50pm?

“What- what’s up with the time?” Rumi asked hesitantly. Looking over Ryuko’s arm as she checked the time. “It’s 4:50, what about it?”

“Izu-” Tsunagu stuttered, his breath hitching as he felt that familiar feeling creep from his stomach up to his throat yet again. “Izumi finishes her school at this time. Hana....Hana looks after her and takes her home....but- but the area. This- argh!”

The car swerved sharply as the blond man narrowly avoided a massive crevice in the road. They stopped moving and looked at the sight in front of them.

They were there. They were at the area that they’d been told about but were shocked to see that the building had completely vanished. It was not there. It was as if someone had plucked it from the ground and taken it elsewhere.

“Holy shit...” Keigo muttered, his wings slumped slightly at the sight that he saw.

Rumi’s ears did the same, as they drooped against her face in a shocked manner while she took in the imagery of the rubble filled, dusty concrete space in front of them.

Ryuko clutched onto the seat in front of her tightly and could feel as Tsunagu’s shoulders dropped, her own breath wavering as she looked out the window.

Police cars and ambulances were scattered around the scene, many heroes could be seen trying to clear the rubble. Despite feeling like such an empty space, there was carnage everywhere.

“Oh god, Tsunagu, please tell me that my suspicions are wrong...” Ryuko quietly spoke, her hands letting go of the seat in front of her as she moved to open the door. “Please....tell me that what you were worried for isn’t what I think it is...”

The blond man drew in a sharp breath and fumbled for the door handle, pushing it open. The other three watched as he stumbled out of the car and exchanged concerned looks before following him in his actions and hurriedly getting out of the car themselves.

“Oi!” Hawks called out, trying to get the older man to slow down as he watched him run towards the police officer that was standing amidst the rubble. “Jeans- Tsunagu, for gods sake, slow down!”

The blond man was too caught up in his worried thoughts to notice the yelling coming from the other three that were following him. His head was so heavy. So loud.

‘Oh god-’

“Tsunagu!”

His stomach felt as if someone had set it on fire....a familiar feeling...too familiar.

‘Please, no-’

“Hey!”

He felt tears prick at his eyes as he reached the shorter police officer who was looking up at him in quite a terrified manner.

“Where are they.”

The smaller figure looked up and squeaked at the surprisingly threatening tone of the fiber hero’s voice.

“U-um, sir? Pl-please wait, don’t-”

“Let me through.” Tsunagu interrupted, no longer trying to mask the harshness of his voice.

“I’m sorry, I-I really can’t let you do that right now, sir. You can’t-”

“Let me get through, and let me see what’s going on.” He loomed above the other man, his long and thin figure casting a dark shadow onto those who were in front of him.

“B-but-”

“Now.”

“Jeanist, sir, please I can’t just-” The police officer cut himself off as he saw the hero’s eyes.

Bright teal orbs glowing with adrenaline, rage and dread, staring straight back into his own. Their light intense enough to mortify the soul that shook in fear within oneself.

This was enough to completely terrify and intimidate the officer. He obeyed the tall man’s demand and dropped everything he was doing as he stepped back hesitantly in shock, unable to look away.

“C-carry on, sir!”

Taking this opportunity, Tsunagu rushed forwards and weaved his way through the piles of rubble, jumping over some of them and kicking some out of the way as he neared the centre of the attack.

‘Idiot!’

Tsunagu snapped his head up at the thoughts that started flooding his mind as he stared up at the huge chunk of concrete that seemed to loom ominously over him.

‘You’re so slow- too late, always too late...’

He shook his head and took a step forward. ‘What would your family think? It’s not like they’d care about you any-’

“Shut up!” He blurted out, feeling his eyes sting from the tears that refused to fall. “Shut up....goddammit, Tsunagu, you’re an idiot.....Shinya....Izumi.....shit...”

His mind felt as if it would explode at any moment. He blamed himself, he always had, but the dread and fear for what he’d find was too much to bear...he couldn’t breathe.

‘So slow-’

“Oh god...”

He stumbled around the massive boulder and shuddered at the sight he saw. The sight that was hidden from everyone else.

‘Too slow-’

“No no no-”

He felt a pair of warm hands gently grasp his shoulders from behind as he watched two younger heroes run towards him in a manner of which to prevent him from going any further towards the usually comforting and familiar flash of red that was wrapped around the kneeling figure that lay ahead of him.

‘Too late.’

Tsunagu felt his heart shatter as he looked at what was in front of him. The tears started to fall and his voice faltered as he tried to call out to his husband, his child, his family...anyone....

“No...th-that’s not right....no...”

“Hey, I don’t think this is a good idea...” Mt Lady spoke quietly as they approached the taller man, her eyes darting back to where Shinya was curled up on the ground.

Kamui shakily looked up at the blond man and took in the fear in his face.

“Let...me...go...” Tsunagu weakly demanded, his voice fading slightly as he tried to shrug the winged hero’s hands off of him.

“I can’t, Tsunagu....holy shit...you two...what happened?” Hawks stuttered out, his own words failing at the sight in front of him, his grip still firm on the other’s shoulders.

“I- I can’t say it.....not here....not now...” Shinji whispered as he tried to steady the tall figure in front of him, his own eyes saddened by the harsh truth of what had happened, blinking rapidly to try and clear away the tears that had already made themselves present. “Jeanist, please......please wait a moment, this isn’t a good idea....”

“Let me go...” Tsunagu’s hollow voice croaked out again, yet this time it seemed to get louder...more desperate....

“Wait! You need to calm down, it’s not safe!” Yuu exclaimed, her voice still trying to be soft. She grabbed onto Tsunagu’s arm and shook it gently, trying to bring him back to reality and make him pay attention to them. But it didn’t work.

His throat tightened as he stared at the crumpled figure of his husband on the ground, his heart racing as his thoughts grew deafeningly louder. He couldn’t hear the others. He couldn’t feel the reassuring hands of the three that held him back from behind...or the hesitant words of comfort from the two that blocked his path.

“Let me get to them!”

All he could hear was the pain of his own thoughts and the silent screams that came from his husbands mouth...the muffled wailing that only he seemed to be able to hear...

“Shinya...”

“For gods sake, please calm down-” Ryuko’s steady voice cut through his thoughts and snapped him back to reality, making him realise that he still hadn’t gotten any further, and that Shinya was still there, curled up on the cold ground.

“Please! Let me see them!” Tsunagu cried out, his voice still straining to the point where barely any sound would come out. “My family, let me get to my family!”

Hawks pivoted around to face the struggling blond and sharply dug his fingers into the older man’s shoulders, trying to make him come to his senses. “For pity’s sake, Jeanist, you know this is a bad idea! You need to calm down, ‘cause out of all people, if you lose control-”

“I need to see my child.”

“Oi!”

“Where is my daughter?”

The two younger heroes that had been with the ninja hero at the time of the incident shared a worried glance and thought back to the moment that Shinya found out what had happened...the fear on his face...the heartbroken scream he let out when he saw....

“Tell me...”

When he saw......

“Let me see my child...”

“Hakamata-san.....” Yuu started, her voice cutting off as more tears welled up in her eyes.

“Let me go....”

“Please....you need to calm down....please listen to us....” Shinji finished what the blonde woman tried to say.

“Don’t touch me...” Tsunagu’s eyes clouded over yet again, his heart racing as he tried to fight against the others.

“You know bloody well this isn’t a good idea!” Rumi hissed as she tried to help Ryuko grab hold of the tall man’s shoulder.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” Tsunagu yelled out, his voice finally making enough noise to startle and frighten the others, the tears streaming down his face even more than before.

“Shit-”

“LET ME GO!”

“For God’s sake-”

“LET ME GO!!”

“No- we can’t, you know this-”

“STOP IT!”

“We’re trying to help, for fucks sake-”

“LET ME GET TO THEM!”

“TSUNAGU!”

At the sudden loud mention of the fiber hero’s name, the silver haired man’s head snapped up and turned towards the commotion in a weary manner.

Locking eyes like the first time they met, the two anguished heroes shared a gaze. Two parents...partners....family....feeling the same despair and pain as each other as they knew...they knew what they both would have to accept.

“.....Tsunagu?” Shinya called out weakly, his voice barely making a sound as he reached out for his husband. “.....you’re here?”

The others watched as the smaller figure reached out to them, their eyes darting back to the man they were holding.

Tsunagu’s face seemed calmer than it was before, still distraught and pained, but calmer. He seemed to breathe slower and his shoulders lowered as he locked eyes with the other man.

“Shinya...” Ryuko started, her voice filled with concern and worry. “Shinya, are you-”

“Let him go...” The silver haired man interrupted the shaky dragon hero, his voice still quiet despite the boldness of his words. “Let him through...”

“Shinya-”

“Let him get to me...let him see her...” His grey eyes seemed to pierce through the air sharper than his own body when using his quirk, despite how dull and hollow they appeared.

Seeing this, the others shared a hesitant glance before letting go of the distraught Jeanist, their hands lingering slightly to let him know that they were all still there for him.

Stumbling forward slowly, Tsunagu reached out to Shinya, his knees buckling beneath him as he fell into the shaky arms of the other man.

“I-I....I can’t....Shinya, I’m sorry...” he started, his tears rolling steadily down his face.

“Don’t....don’t apologise to me, Tsu, we are both sharing this pain....” the silver haired man whispered, rocking the child in his arms ever so slightly as his own tears fell down the sides of his cheeks. “Just....look at her....look at them both.....look....look at her face, Tsunagu, her face-”

The blond man whimpered as the other man shook in despair, holding his family closer to his chest as they took in the peaceful features of the two that lay in his arms.

The small child that was bundled up in Shinya’s arms stared up lifelessly at them, her usually bright and happy teal eyes, now dull and empty. Her light silver hair was dishevelled and dirty, matted by the dust and rubble that was laying around them. Her tiny little body, laying there, broken and damaged...in a way that not even the most heartless creatures could stand and look over....and the imagery of her childhood, stripped away forever. Her life...cut shorter than anyone could ever deserve.

A different pair of kind and caring arms were wrapped around the resting child. Ones that did not belong to Shinya or Tsunagu, but to a certain hero whose own life had been interrupted by the sudden incident.

Hana’s face seemed to carry so much focus, despite being devoid of life and hope, and her eyes still carried their usual determination. She had always been willing to die fighting for those she loved, however it was never meant to be this soon....not with Izumi...not with her trying and failing to protect her own niece.

“What....what happened....” Tsunagu muttered, burying his face deeper into the top of Shinya’s head and taking the other man’s hand gently in his own, squeezing it in the same reassuring way he would’ve done when their family was alive.

“They were walking home...” Shinya croaked, his voice getting smaller as he held his sister and his child’s body closer to him. “They were just coming home, but they got caught- they got caught up in- Tsunagu, I can’t-”

The taller man attempted to comfort his shivering husband but couldn’t stop his own tears from intensifying.

“Tsunagu....Hana...she tried so hard...” Shinya reached down and fixed a stray strand of hair that was poking out from the fairy hero’s head. “My sister....she....she’s gone.....she.....she tried so hard to protect her...our petal, our little Izumi...”

He trailed off, tears falling onto the red scarf that he had wrapped around the two that lay in his arms.

“Our child....our baby....” Tsunagu breathed, continuing from his husband’s unfinished sentence, his own voice sounding more broken than ever.

“Why....why did this happen?” The smaller man asked a question that he didn’t really want the answer to, yet he asked desperately anyway.

“Shinya...” Tsunagu turned away in pain, looking back at the other heroes he had dragged with him. He felt bad. He didn’t mean to yell at them or push them away...but the blind panic he felt had washed over him like a tidal wave drowning out the signs of those who were trying to help. But now he saw. He could think, he could see, he could hear them clearly once again.....but it was too late for that......and it was too much, too loud, he knew too much of what he wish had never had to know.

He watched as Ryuko crumpled to the floor in anguish, barely being held up by the usually strong bunny hero, who’s ears were now pressed against her face, both being comforted by the winged hero that stood by their side. Keigo’s head hanging low as he felt his heart fill up with a familiar sadness that he knew all too well.

“Why did this happen to us?”

Shinya’s words rang through the air as clear and sharp as the cold winter air that they used to play in as a family, throwing snowballs at eachother and watching as Izumi jumped into the massive piles of snow, only to come out shivering and asking for warm hugs and to be wrapped in her favourite blanket. Those memories that could never happen again.

The fiber hero looked back down into his husbands eyes and saw the pain once again, seeing the desperation from deep down within Shinya’s soul.

He took a deep breath and tried to reply as steadily as he could, keeping the other man’s gaze locked to his own.

“Because she’s our daughter....and anything that happens to us will only ever result in pain for those we love the most....”

Shinya felt more tears run down his face as he listened to the familiar and somewhat still so soothing voice of his husband, sharing the truth of what he had already known.

“That’s how it’s always been for us...all throughout our lives.” Tsunagu continued, closing his eyes as he felt his tears blur his vision over and over again.

“It’s all our fault.” Shinya quietly mumbled, brushing the dirt off of their child’s face as he cried.

Looking up, the silver haired hero saw a flash of blue in the distance, and watched the horror seep into the familiar secretary’s face as she looked upon the bodies he held in his arms, falling to the ground as she saw Hana’s broken figure, and wailing when the reality that her partner was actually gone had fully sunk in.

“We’re her parents....and because of that, now she’s dead.”

Shinya felt Tsunagu’s embrace tighten and watched as his husband place a gentle hand against Izumi’s face.

“Our child is dead...Tsunagu.....our child.....our petal....our sunshine....”

The words that escaped Shinya’s lips stuck daggers into both of their hearts as the felt the shared pain of losing a loved one once more.

“Our baby...” the taller man whimpered, his head no longer able to be held up high, resting on the others own shoulders.

The pain they shared was more excruciating than any injury or near-death experience they had ever felt, all combined together. For they had once felt the joys of being a happy family, becoming parents to a whole entire new life that saw the happiness in everything. For the first time in both of their lives, they had felt true peace, and true happiness. But once it was taken away from them, the light they saw in those moments, would never shine again.

“She’s gone....”

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softsebnbuckystan · 4 years ago

Text

Soul ties - Part 7 (Bucky Barnes au)

“You had a speech, you're speechless

Love slipped beyond your reaches”

"Steve told me about what happened. Are you okay?"

"Sure. Don't worry, Bruce," you said as you looked through the microscope. "We have work to do."

"This doesn't mean we can't talk about it if you need to."

You watched him mixing chemicals with hesitant hands. "This should work, by the way. I think I found the right..."

"What? The right what?"

"Shit," he muttered as foam started forming at the surface of the liquid. "We need to leave. Now, Y/n!"

Bruce ran towards you and dragged you out of the lab, closing the fire door. You were still right in front of it when the explosion went off, deafening you for a few seconds. You looked around you, wondering why no one else was freaking out about the lab blowing up.

"Y/n, hey, it's fine."

You looked around you. You were hearing Bruce again, but where was he? You pulled your hair, tears running down your face and your heart beating out of your chest. Everything seemed blurry and dangerous. Why wasn't anyone scared?

"I'll go get someone." That wasn't Bruce. Who? All you knew was it was a woman's voice.

You fell to your knees : why didn't they hurt?

"It's okay, I'm here. Breathe." You knew this voice. Of course you did. Why weren't you able to see whoever had spoken? Your vision was less blurry than before, but still... You couldn't think straight.

"Here. Do you feel my hands?"

A pressure on both your shoulders encouraged you to nod. You did feel hands on your shoulders. Looking up, you recognised his long dark hair, then the two blue orbs staring at you.

"Breathe in, slowly. You got this."

"Wh- what's happening?"

"Nothing bad. Just breathe. I got you."

Your feet left the ground as Bucky carried you somewhere. Your breathing was fast, just like his pace. You laid your hand on his chest, instantly feeling his heartbeat under your palm. It was so much slower than yours. You closed your eyes, shifting all your focus on this single heartbeat, doing your best to forget about yours.

"Okay, I'm sitting you down right now. You can open your eyes, it's fine."

You couldn't let go of him. You must've been grabbing his shirt really hard, because he decided to sit down next to you and keep holding you. When you opened your eyes again, you were surrounded by billions of stars. The familiar room soothed you, and so did Bucky's presence at your side. Your breathing calmed down progressively.

"Thank you," you whispered. "What happened? The lab exploded and...nobody cared. Is everyone okay? Did Bruce get out?"

"It was a minor lab malfunction. It was a minor explosion. No one got hurt."

"Minor? No, it was...it was so loud." Unwelcome memories were flashing before your eyes and you shook your head to drive them away. "It was like Sokovia all over again."

"Oh, alright... Look at me." You tilted your head up and met with his blue eyes. "You had a panic attack. It made you feel everything stronger. That happens, okay?"

"Does it? Do you have those to?"

He nodded with a sigh. "They're normal. After what you went through..."

"What gave you yours?" You bit your cheek. "Sorry. I just...when whatever this was happened, I saw them again. My parents. The bomb making our rooftop fall over their bodies. It was..."

"Hey, I'm here now." Bucky hugged you tighter and you gave in to the embrace. Damn, being close to him made you forget about everything else. "I have those in the middle of the night, sometimes. Whether it's because I remember something H.Y.D.R.A made me do or a nightmare waking me up, they're always like what you went through here. Thing is, you don't have to go through those alone."

You hesitated before taking his hand.

"H.Y.D.R.A.? As in...the ones that did those things to Wanda and Pietro?"

"Yeah."

"I didn't know they'd done those things to you too. I'm sorry."

Bucky gave you a weak smile before looking down at your joined hands.

"They're the one who gave me the arm. I mean, not this one, but...that's them. The super soldier serum, too."

"I'm guessing they didn't make you fight the Nazis..."

"I fought for them." He looked away, letting go of your hand. You furrowed your brows and grabbed it back.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," you said. "But you're back now. Alive."

"At what cost, though?"

"We wouldn't have met." You blushed instantly after saying that sentence. "I mean..."

"No, you're right." He looked back at you as he leaned his head against the wall behind you. "Sometimes I just feel like I can't get rid of what's left of them. I can't be the old me again."

You waited before saying anything back, putting some orders in your thoughts. "I never knew the old you. But I like who you are now."

Bucky paused for a moment, scrutinising your face as if searching for a lie. "I still feel, look too much like...like him. The arm was a first change, but..."

"It's not that easy. I get it. Just...know that's okay, too. It takes time to heal."

--- Two days later

"Look who's up, if that isn't the birthday girl!" Sam exclaimed as he handed you a cup of coffee. You'd just walked into the kitchen and you already had a smile on your face. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks, dude."

"And look who woke up hours ago? Damn, y'all have messed up sleep schedules."

"Shut up, Sam," you and Bucky said in unison, causing you both to laugh a little.

You hadn't heard from Darren in two days, but you weren't feeling that down about it anymore. You'd been getting to know Bucky more and seeing him laugh along with you and Sam as the sun rays hit his profile felt like home.

"Happy birthday, by the way."

"Thanks, Bucky." You smiled to him but looked away pretty fast – this might or might not have anything to do with Sam looking at you with a grin.

"Anyway," he says, "I hope you're not busy working with Banner today because-"

Your phones buzzed, and the three of you read the name of the expeditor. You hesitated before you grabbed your phone and read the text Darren had sent you.

"Got plans for your birthday?"

"It's not what I wished he'd said...but it's a start, I guess." You let out a sigh, pondering what to respond with.

"Before that husband of yours interrupted me, I was actually telling you about your plans for the day, lady."

"Really? And what are those plans exactly, bird guy?"

"First, don't call me that or else I cancel the stripper Nat hired for you."

"The what?" You almost spat out your coffee, triggering Sam's laugh and bringing an amused smile to Bucky's face.

"I'm kidding, Y/n. We did plan a party, but no stripper. Sorry."

"You'll be the death of me. But thank you for doing that for me." You shook your head as you end up laughing along. Your mood darkened a bit when you read the text again. "Should I tell him to come?"

"If you want to." Sam shrugged. "Just remember how he talked to you the other day, and don't be too nice with him, alright?"

"What about this : I do, actually. It's up to you to show up tonight at the compound, if you really want to be there or not." Bucky tilted his head to the side before he nodded. "Okay, sent. Now what can I help with, for tonight?"

"Nothing! Bucky's picking up the cake last minute tonight, and Scott and I are in charge of the playlist."

"Then I'm sure it'll be a sick playlist. In a good way, of course."

"You like his music taste?" Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Stop bickering, the two of you. And as a matter of fact, yes!" You chuckled at the thought of tonight's party. "Who will be there, by the way?"

"Pretty much everyone. Nat's coming back from D.C. for the occasion and Tony and Pepper said they'd come too. I think Sharon said she'd be there, and..."

"Ooooh, that'll make Steve happy," you chimed in.

"Don't say that in front of him. They kissed once and he's not even allowing us to tease him about it."

"He's no fun," you complained.

"I heard that!" Steve shouted from the other room.

"Go see elsewhere if we care, old man!" Sam laughed at your comeback, and you heard Steve chuckle as well.

Damn, your birthday was off to a good start. You could only hope that feeling would last.

-- I KNOW it's getting long, but bear with me and I promise you won't regret where these two will take you! I'm starting to think this will be 15 parts long max. Might be shorter too. Let me know what you thought about this part!

P.S. – Tell me if you want to be added to the tag list !

Tag list :

@ginger-swag-rapunzel @joscelyn02 @coniumalces @bluemoon-icecream @lady-loki-ren

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #james bucky barnes #sebastian stan imagine #tfatws #catws #cacw #marvel #captain america #self insert #x y/n

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bad-bitch-beauchamp · 4 years ago

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Songs About Me: Thistle & Bloom (CH7)

Jamie and Claire end up in Claire's shop. More revelations, a mysterious phone call, and exchanged promises. SO sorry about the gap between chapters! I've been pretty sick over here, and just needed a break to get better. I'm feeling better and glad to be writing again!

READ ON AO3

CHAPTER SEVEN

Claire Beauchamp’s front porch, a late October night, Louisburg Square, Beacon Hill, Boston

“Claire, I--” he swallowed and took a step back from her. She noticed that in the distance he created, his hand still held onto her waist. His fingertips pressed into her flesh and goosebumps erupted under the fabric. She met his eyes and sank into their ocean depths.

“I’d verra much like to kiss ye. May I?”

Words had never failed Claire before. She spent her free time letting sentences flow around her, wrapping her in warmth and comfort. Words were her solace and succor. When Jamie’s eyes flicked from her lips to her eyes in question , in longing , any word she thought of failed her completely. She nodded quickly, for it was all she could manage in the moment. Whatever she had been expecting from Jamie, whatever she expected a first kiss to be like with the stranger who had enchanted her from their first meeting, whatever she expected failed in comparison. Jamie leaned forward, and steeled himself with a slow swallow. Claire watched his throat bob with the effort, and for the first time, wondered to herself how much power he was holding unchecked in the moment. There wasn’t time to think before he had regained his composure and moved closer into her. His clear blue eyes had darkened to the color of Claire’s favorite coastline, and her breath caught in her throat. The moment she met his eyes, everything faded away. There were no words, no chill in the late October air, no more spiraling thoughts… there was just Jamie. His woody cologne swirled together with the scent of fallen leaves on wet, worn bricks; their air mingled together, and it was happening. His mouth found purchase with hers, softly, tenderly. He tasted like a smoke-filled whisky and something so inexplicably him. Had she been sober, she might have had the thought to hold back some, to not devour this man before her… but she wasn’t sober, and couldn’t have been with the intoxicating feel of him against her body and in her mouth. Her hands moved from his chest up his neck and into the curls at the nape of his neck. He moaned when her fingers moved upwards into his hair. “God, Claire…” His hands roamed around her waist and up the expanse of her back, down her ribcage and almost to her arse, but pulled back to crush her to him instead. She moaned in protest and he laughed breathily as he whispered, “Ye have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to kiss ye like this.” Claire smiled through his returning kisses. An arm snaked around her waist while the other ran up the length of her spine. She was being greedy, she knew it, and couldn’t stop it. Her tongue softly ran along his lips and he nearly spasmed at the contact. Apparently one little tease was all the invitation he needed -- a hand was in her hair, his tongue was in her mouth, her body was crushed against the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. They were playing a dangerous game, the two of them, and she was ready to explode with the fire he set in her.

“You’ll stay…?” He moved his mouth to her ear, nibbling her earlobe just a bit. “God, Jamie…” Hot breath from a small chuckle made her skin erupt in shivers. “You’ll stay? Tonight?”

Stubble scratched her neck, soothed by wet kisses. “Hmmmm?”

She drew his face back to hers in her hands and kissed him soundly. “Come upstairs with me, Jamie.”

Navy orbs met dark gold ones in the glow of lamplight. He made for their mouths to meet again, but didn’t close his eyes. He released her finally, but kept a tight grip on her waist. “Yer so beautiful, Claire.”

She felt her cheeks burn at his compliments. How did he do that to her? Just a few words, a pointed look, a whisper in her direction and she was absolutely melted. She reached for his hand and moved to open her door, but Jamie stayed rooted to the spot.

“I cannae go inside wi’ ye tonight, mo nighean donn.” Surely she hadn’t heard him right. Was he rejecting her? She dropped his hand and stepped back, turning toward the door to turn her key in the lock.

What the fuck happens now? Claire turned, stood up straight, and outstretched her hand. “Well, this really has been a great night. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime?” She tried to keep the hurt off her face, but knew she was failing.

Jamie looked at her hand like it was a foreign object, and stepped forward. He took her small hand in both of his and brought her knuckles to his lips. “Claire, ye have to know how much I want tae go inside with ye. God, I’ve never wanted anything more than I want ye in this moment. But lass, I don’t just want this moment… I want so much more with ye. The way I feel about ye, I know ye feel it, too. I’m not willing to let this get out of hand. Ye mean too much to me. This, means too much to me. I’m going to do this right, mo chridhe.” Claire’s whole body had felt warm with adrenaline moments before, but now it surged with affection for Jamie. “If ye wanted to kiss me like that again though, I wouldna complain one bit, though,” he added with a smirk breaking through his serious facade.

Claire laughed in earnest and kissed him with all the passion she could muster. Her hand rested on his heart and it pounded faster with the seconds shared in their kiss. Before she was lost in him once again, she pulled away and he let out a strangled cry at the loss of her. His eyes hadn’t opened before she had completely extricated herself from him and had her front door open. “Goodnight, James!” she laughed.

---

“You’ll be the death of me, Sassenach!” The door was closed before he had time to recompose himself. He sighed and ran a hand through his mussed curls. He absolutely stood by what he said about wanting to honor what they had, and he had not planned on following her to bed tonight. He wouldn’t treat this like it was disposable or quick. Then again… no lass had ever kissed him the way Claire Beauchamp did. Before he could knock on her door and beg her to let him in, he forced himself off the porch and down the sidewalk. One more look at her windows, one more second in place thinking about her, and he’d end up back in her arms tonight. One day, lad. One day.

Jamie had mentioned he had to be at the bookshop the next day, and Claire had every intention of not bothering him at work. She had planned to answer a few emails and do some administrative work with a coffee and then head down to her own shop to work on propagating some of the rarer plants. She loaded her leather messenger bag with her laptop, notebook, writing notebook, an assortment of her favorite pens, and headed down the street. Twenty minutes and a large chai later, she aimlessly strolled toward her shop on Garden Street. She found herself drifting a few blocks south of the direction she should be headed in and a few blocks closer to Fraser Literature. Surely there was no harm in working at one of the tables in the courtyard at the bookshop, right? She wandered through the streets with a new purpose and was soon setting up shop at one of the familiar cafe tables outside her favorite shop. Had the store not been open today, she would have wasted the morning away there in the courtyard, letting the sun glow around her, warming her chilled surroundings. Alas, being a business owner was not exactly as freeing as someone may think and she had work to do. A while later, Claire was zoned-in on an email about variegated monstera deliciosa orders when a voice behind her nearly made her fall out of her chair.

“Whatcha working on today, Sassenach?” She clutched her chest and turned to see Jamie arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms, clearly pleased with his startling announcement of arrival.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, Jamie! Are you trying to give me a heart attack over here?”

“Ach no, jes’ reveling in the fact that ye clearly can’t get enough of me. Getting me drunk at dinner, encouraging puir decisions, the way ye kissed me last night, trying to get me into yer bed, and now, I find ye waiting for me outside my shop. I jes’ find it interesting , is all.”

“I was doing no such thing! This is just were I work! I’d been working here long before I knew this was your shop!”

“Likely story, Sassenach.” Claire assumed he was trying to wink, but in much the same way an owl does, he just blinked both clear blue eyes at her and scrunched up his nose, making Claire snort in laughter at his attempt.

“I do actually have to work, though, and now that I know you’re distracted, I should go so we both actually get something done today,” she said, and began to pack up her bags.

“Tis a timely distraction, actually!” Jamie handed her a yellow notebook and raised his brows when he gestured throwing her empty drink in the trash.

Claire nodded in response to the cup and continued to pack up. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“We’ve been getting some feedback from customers lately that they’re very much enjoying the ‘atmosphere’ of the store, and more and more people at checkout say they like all the plants hanging around! The boys and I were discussing taking that idea and running with it… kind of an arts experience, ken? The music, the books of course, and bring nature into it all. I’d like to add in some more plants, but dinna ken what would work best. Is there any way ye could help me figure it out? Maybe I could stop by your wee shop sometime and we could talk it out?”

Claire swung her bag over her shoulder and smiled at Jamie’s nervousness in asking her for something so… chill . “Of course you can stop by, Jamie! Actually, I’m headed there now, if you’d like to join?” His smile could have rivaled the sunshine for brightest thing in the courtyard. Claire waited inside the store’s entrance while Jamie told Angus and Rupert he’d be back in a while and noticed the way Jamie’s ears pinked at the tips when Angus leaned in to whisper something and Rupert playfully punched Jamie in the arm. She pretended to fuss with something on the bookshelf, but smiled to herself nonetheless.

“Ready, Sassenach?” Jamie was waiting by her side a few moments later. It was Claire’s turn to beam up at him.

“Always.”

---

Thistle and Bloom was Jamie’s second-favorite place in all of Boston. It was the word “thistle” that had originally drawn him into the shop shortly after moving to the city. It reminded him of home, of the Highlands, and of all the things that just felt like home. He had met the redhead behind the counter a handful of times, always hearing the owner was out back working, or gone searching for herbs, or otherwise occupied. He and Geillis had become friendly over the years, and the other lads had become more than friendly with her on more than one occasion. It was Geillis that had invited them all out to karaoke, and he would forever be grateful for how fate had worked in his life. Geillis, this shop, his bookstore, Scotland… all of it played a part in getting him here today, with Claire.

They approached the storefront and Claire absolutely beamed with pride. The outside of the shop was ornate for Boston, but beautiful. The building was brick, with a white-washed wood first story with large arched windows. Painted with forest green on the arches of the facade, a heavy naturally-stained wood had the name of the wee shop painted in gold lettering, and a heavy carved thistle painted in gold sat as the crowning jewel in the signage. English ivy crawled and sprawled up the planters on the sidewalk and up the white wood over the green arches and up the antique brick. Whisky barrels sat in front of the windows exploding with blooms in modern arrangements, like they had truly come to life in the most whimsical and elegant way. Now knowing it was Claire behind it all, everything made sense. He thumbed a rogue branch of the ivy, it’s Englishness not lost on him. Inside the store, Jamie saw it all with fresh eyes.

Jamie was a fair gardener -- truth be told, he hadn’t needed explicit help in finding the right plants for his store, but he’d near say anything to spend time with Claire. She nervously showed him around, occasionally muttering the scientific name of a houseplant or remarking about the rarity of another under her breath. Only once did she catch one yellowing leaf on something that trailed up the wall, and she plucked it off and shoved it in her jeans pocket. Jamie shook his head in exasperation at her -- didn’t she know, everything she did was perfect? They continued their little tour and examined every plant in the store for Jamie’s needs. Jamie occasionally hummed or nodded in agreement of Claire’s assessment of the plants, but he knew she really wasn’t talking to him. Sometimes, she’d look at Jamie or ask for his opinion on a plant, but otherwise, she existed in her own little world. Claire had amassed a collection of medium-sized plants on the counter she assured him wouldn’t be too much work but would flourish with his attention, and turned the most brilliant shade of pink when she caught sight of him watching her work.

Seeing that the shop was empty for the moment, Jamie moved in toward Claire. Watching her like this, in her element, so happy, he just wanted to kiss her again. Just steps away from her, she turned to him, smiling. One more step until bliss…

Jamie jumped. His phone rang loudly from his pocket. Rushing to silence it, he pulled it out of his pocket to a blonde woman’s smiling face on the Caller ID. He shut off the ringer and looked for Claire. She was shuffling plants at the counter, not really rearranging anything but trying to make herself busy nonetheless. Ifrinn. She saw the damned phone.

“So, Claire…” he was interrupted by a voicemail notication. He ignored it. “I was wondering if ye grow these plants yerself, or…” another loud beep followed by another indicated he was getting texts at a rapid pace. “Jesus, fuck!”

“If you need to get that, it’s really fine, Jamie!” Claire was trying for a breezy tone and failing miserably. She’d seen the beautiful woman on the phone. They never said they were exclusive or anything, it was awfully presumptuous of her to assume that in the two days they’d known each other, that he didn’t have any other ties. She was spiraling but a warm, steady hand brought her back down to reality.

“I dinna need to do anything, Sassenach. Nothing matters to me now except for being here with ye.” He gave her a reassuring smile, and with only the briefest hesitation to make sure she was caught up with his feelings, he kissed her chastley. “Now, I was asking how ye came to amasse such a small jungle.”

Claire smiled adoringly at Jamie, pushing any nagging thoughts about the mysterious caller to the side. “I’d like to show you something, if you can be away for a little while longer,” Claire said. Jamie nodded and followed her when she went out the back door of the shop.

Instead of finding a back door leading to an alleyway or a small yard, Jamie stepped into pure light. A white wooden door with paned glass led the way into the most beautiful greenhouse Jamie had ever seen. It was a few small rooms, each terraced with a few cement steps leading into the next. Slowly walking through, Jamie noticed each tiny room was a different biome: one for tropical plants, one for houseplants, one for cacti and sand-dwelling plants, and one with plants he’d never seen before. The windows were probably once crystal clear, but now the glass was clouded with condensation and moss in the corners. The cream paint on the window and door panes was chipping away in places, and the floor was covered in loose dirt and a few errant leaves. Everything was diffused light and shades of green and white and warm air. It was warm inside and Jamie wiped away a bead of sweat from his forehead. He turned to Claire, who stood in the far corner, awaiting judgment like a child. She smiled shyly, hugging herself and leaning against a potting bench. Her hair was conspiring with the humidity to add more curls to her head at an alarming rate, and she looked like the queen of her own personal Jumanji. Jamie had never seen a more ethereal sight in his life.

“Ye know, I always come here when I miss home,” he held a leaf the size of his own head in his hand and made his way along the rows of flora as he continued. “Scotland is so green, ken? I think it’s the thing I miss most. The traditions there are so old but it’s so green and fresh and new out in the moors and the lochs and munros. This shop, yer shop,” he smiled at her, “it always felt the way I felt about being home in Scotland.”

“Have I told you I grew up in Scotland?”

Jamie’s head snapped up at that. “Ye said ye were from Oxford?”

She nodded. “Yes, originally. I went to school in Oxford, and Oxford was where I thought I’d build my life. Actually though, in between travelling with my uncle, we’d always end up in Scotland. My uncle had a place in Glenfinnan?” Jamie’s jaw dropped. “I take it you know the place?”

“Aye! I’m from Inveraray!”

“I’ll jot that down in the list of things we have in common!” She laughed. “Anyways, he had a croft up there and we’d go all the time. It’s mine now, but I haven’t had time to make it back there after opening up shop here in Boston. Scotland holds a very special place in my heart, though. All the important moments in my life happened in the Highlands: my best birthdays, my first kiss, my biggest adventures, it’s where I went when I left my ex, when my uncle died…” Jamie came to her, stroking her arm when he saw her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “The highlands always felt wild and peaceful and magical to me. I wanted to have a slice of that here. It’s obviously for work, too, but this… this is my favorite place. My oasis. It feels…”

“Like heaven,” Jamie finished. The moment he said it, he almost wished he could take it back not because he didn’t mean it, but because it really did feel like heaven here with her.

“Like heaven,” she repeated. He found her staring longingly at him, and he couldn’t help it then. He kissed her with as much admiration as he could possibly muster in a kiss, and it still didn’t feel like enough when she drew back for air.

“Having you here with me, in this place… This is more than I could have ever hoped for.”

“Make me a promise, Sassenach?”

Claire was puzzled. She brought him into her very favorite place, and he’s asking for random promises right now? “Yes, Jamie?”

“Promise me we’ll end up in Scotland together. I’ll take ye up the munros and down in the lochs and we’ll laugh and drive and get caught up in sheep herds together. We’ll drink ‘til we cannae walk we’ll talk about how the universe conspired to get us here. Me and you, mo nighean donn. Promise ye’ll let me follow ye around the world and back to the place we both love. Promise me that one day, we’ll get back there together.”

Despite knowing Jamie for such a short time, despite the day that was supposed to be a fun, non-committal one picking out plants, Claire found herself swimming in the depths of his ocean eyes with no plan to get out and dry off. Despite the rational part of her brain telling her she should not be making plans so soon, she saw an entire lifetime in his face. Maybe it was the ethereal atmosphere, maybe it was that he made her drunk on his presence alone, maybe it was magic that made her match his eyes and say, “Scotland it is. I’ll follow you anywhere.”

#in which tessaactually tries fan fic #songs about me fic #outlander fic #outlander fan fic #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #claire beauchamp #FIRST KISS FIRST KISS FIRST KISS #things are amping up to get v angsty #but until then #things are V FLUFFY #and are about to get vvv smutty.

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georgescatcafe · 4 years ago

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a quiet life (a handshake)

rating: g warning/s: non-graphic violence pairing/s: dreamnotfound genres/tags: royalty au, king george, knight dream, marshal sapnap, pining, fluff and angst word count: 2,322 summary: The first time he and Dream touch again after his coronation is an accident.

He trips. Dream catches him.

The strongest dam in Essempy will never break, no matter if it cracks or leaks. George is not the strongest dam.

+ao3

;;

George isn’t sure what to think as the crown is placed atop his head. It’s heavy, and when he had touched it the night before, waiting, hesitating, it was cool to his fingers. Even now, he feels the cold metal as it rests, nestled in his hair.

In his hands, George holds the orb and scepter, and they’re just as heavy as the crown. With them, he can’t use his hands, can’t carry anything else, only the duty that’s been given to him. George looks out across the crowd. This isn’t a celebration, it’s a shackling.

The ceremony passes with ease. George is the crowned King. He’s never wanted to be anything less.

;;

“So… you’re King now.”

George looks back to see his knight standing in the doorway, cloaked in shadow. He nods, and the knight steps forward. George turns fully to greet him. “I thought you wanted this.”

“I do,” Dream replies. He comes closer. “For you.”

George raises a brow.

“Everything you could ever want,” Dream says. “Money, power. When you ride into battle, George, you’ll look so—,” he cuts himself off, clears his throat, “there’s nothing you could ask for that couldn’t be given.”

That’s not true. George swallows. “I’ve got the world at my fingertips.”

Dream nods. “It’s what you deserve.” His fingers twitch. George looks at them, wishes he could take them in his own—if only he weren’t King, if only he weren’t a coward. He wonders if Dream wishes the same. When he meets Dream’s eyes once more, the knight is watching him. His gaze is green, like grass, like the valleys and hills that he and George used to whisper of escaping to. His gaze, deeper, closer to his iris, is brown, like the bark of trees, like cool, damp earth. George can’t actually tell the true colors of Dream’s eyes. Dream taught him the colors, murmured them to him when they were kids, close and personal, trying his best to describe it in the clumsy way kids can. George had loved every second of it. “I really wanted this for you, George. I want you to be happy.”

But being King won’t grant George happiness. But Dream doesn’t know that. George smiles. “I’m really happy, Dream. Thank you.”

Dream smiles back. It doesn’t reach his eyes. George wonders if his own did.

;;

George does like the power. He likes the money. In terms of materials, maybe Dream’s right, this is all he could want. He’s never been happier. But each day he rises and sees the knight, catches his eye over breakfast, bumps into him in the courtyard, and each day the ache in his chest grows worse. Within him lies a want nothing but Dream can fulfill. He wishes he could cut it out, take a knife to his chest and be done with it, hands bloody, heart happy. But he can’t.

So he aches.

;;

There is no pressure for George to take on a consort of any sort, and for that, George is actually happy, smiling to himself the minute he’s alone after hearing the news. Even if there were pressure, George doesn’t think he would give in.

He doesn’t think he can give in.

His hands are tied with tasks as King and he can’t afford love, can’t even afford an heir. Not so soon. Not with Dream still so near. George’s gaze drops to the floor when he accidentally sees Dream across the hall. When they pass each other, George fights the urge to reach out and grab, hold onto and not let go, with all he has.

;;

George supposes he would love antagonizing the marshal, Sapnap, if Sapnap weren’t as entangled as tightly with Dream as he is.

“He seems sadder nowadays,” Sapnap tells George as he saddles the other’s horse, not something either of them are wont to do, but today seems to be an exception. He runs a hand down the mare’s flank when he’s done, giving her a firm pat before turning to George. “I always ask him if he’s alright, but he just, y’know, shrugs me off.”

“He does that,” George says.

Sapnap nods.

George climbs onto his horse. “He is, though, isn’t he?” he asks. Sapnap looks up at him. “Alright.”

“For once,” Sapnap says, as he takes a couple steps back, allowing George to guide his horse outside the stable, “I don’t actually know.”

George’s ride is spent with only the company of unease. At one point, he stops the mare, nausea rising in his throat, only to dry heave in the bushes as the Sun passes over high in the sky.

When he returns, Sapnap is gone, and George leaves putting up his horse to the stable boy.

The rest of the day is unproductive. He spends most of it in his room.

;;

The first time he and Dream touch again after his coronation is an accident.

They walk, silent, side by side, down a corridor, both headed in the same direction. George refuses to look over. Dream seems to refuse to look away. Under his gaze, George prickles, tingles breaking out under his skin, pinpricks of feelings he’d wish go away.

And then he trips. And Dream catches him.

The strongest dam in Essempy will never break, no matter if it cracks or leaks. George is not the strongest dam.

;;

He starts planning after that. George has never been one for affection, but he craves Dream’s touch like a flower craves the Sun. And so he plans, every move he makes an effort to get Dream’s hands on him again. It feels perverse, wrong, and maybe it is—as a king, he shouldn’t want this. As Dream’s friend, he shouldn’t want this.

But he does, and it’s too late to deny these feelings now.

Dream has touched his hands, his shoulders, his waist, his arms. It’s all fleeting. It’s not enough.

He’s taking a break from work—tallies, taxes, treatises mocking him behind his eyes—in a landing between the second and third floor when he spies Dream and Sapnap. Together, they walk, and George envies their easy affection. Dream shoves, Sapnap shoves back. George wants that. They keep distance between them still. It’s friendly. They’re friends. George wants more than that. George thinks he might go insane.

He looks away. It’s best not to dwell on it. There’s other things to do.

;;

George thinks he’s alone on the trail when there’s a sudden burst of sound—the stomping of hooves—and Dream is next to him, atop his stallion, elegant and proud. For a moment, George sees him as King, sees the crown, the cape. It’s beautiful.

It’s cold.

George smiles at him. “Protecting me from bandits?”

“I like your company,” Dream replies. “Besides, bandits this close to the castle?”

I like your company, too, George wants to say. “Just a joke,” comes out instead.

Dream grins. “You’re so funny, George.”

“You sound like Sapnap,” George replies, “when he’s making fun of me. Are you making fun of me, Dream?”

“I’d never, George,” Dream says, and it feels so much like the past, this easy banter between them, that George almost forgets the weight of the crown, the chasm that lies between them. Almost.

Needless to say, most of his smiles are faked after that.

;;

George has never been in battle, nor does he ever want to be in one. The declaration of war that sits upon his desk spits in his face and tells him to get over it.

Dream reads it over his shoulder, his presence a steady warmth George knows if he weren’t King he’d easily fall back into. Instead he merely keeps it close by.

“We have to answer,” Dream tells him. “We can’t leave something like this undecided.”

“Get Sapnap,” George replies.

Growing up, he thought it had been a cliche, but he finds himself nodding along when Sapnap announces to his men that they’ll ride at dawn.

;;

“Dream,” George says, war on the horizon, but only one question on his mind.

“Yeah?” Dream doesn’t look up from the map he’s surveying.

“When I had been crowned,” George turns to the other, heart pounding in his chest, “you were telling me about what I’d get as King. You also said—you said when riding into battle, I’d look—I’d look so—”

“There aren’t many things I think you shouldn’t say before battle,” Dream finally rolls up the map, looks over at George, “but that’s one of them.”

“But you’ll tell me still, right?” George tightens his grip on his horse’s reins. “Right?”

“When we’re on the other side of the war,” Dream tells him. “Then I’ll know it’s true. And I’ll tell you.”

Neither bring it up again.

;;

The sky is black. Dream tells him it’s red. “Passion,” George replies. “Heat.”

From behind them, a rumble. Something explodes. George takes a steadying breath. “Blood,” he says.

“Don’t think about that,” Dream tells him, slicing through an approaching soldier, an enemy. George wonders if his family will miss him. If he even has a family. George lifts his shield to block the sword of another. Dream doesn’t have a family. George and Sapnap could be his family. Even if they weren’t, George would still miss him. Even now, George misses him.

George runs his sword straight through a man. He leans over and vomits on a corpse. He feels Dream’s warmth against his back. If George died, he bets Dream would miss him. He wants to know what Dream was going to say. George swings his sword towards the sound of footsteps. He slices a soldier’s leg open. The blood that spills out is black.

Don’t think about that.

;;

George never wants to go into battle again. He hates battle, hates war—he hates being King.

“I love the power,” he tells Dream. “I love the money.” He tugs bitterly at the petitions now spread across his desk. “But is that worth all this?��

“Isn’t it?” Dream asks. “I thought you were happy.”

“I’m—,” George doesn’t think he can say it. I’m happiest with you. He was happiest when they were kids, tagging and chasing in the grass, shouting and screaming in the forest, shrieking and swimming in the lake. He was happiest when they could touch, when they could shove each other, push and pull as equals, not as King and servant. He was happiest when blood didn’t stain his hands crimson and when the only circle of gold he knew was the halo around Dream’s hair and not the crown that sits on his own head. “I’m trying to be.”

Silence.

Dream unsheathes his sword. They sit on a bench in the courtyard, and Dream draws the blade through the dirt. George watches as the metal glints in the light.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m trying really hard to be happy.”

He hesitates.

“It wasn’t even the fight,” he says. “Not really. I can get my hands dirty. But not like this. Not when all they did was serve their own King. I like destruction; I like a mess.”

“But not like this.”

George nods.

Dream sighs. “I’m sorry, too. I really thought you wanted this, George.”

“It’s not like you made me King yourself,” George replies. “Not like this was a long time coming.”

“I could’ve done something,” Dream says. “You, me, Sapnap—the three of us—we could’ve left. Don’t you think?”

George shakes his head. “I still like Essempy. I don’t want to leave. I just… don’t want it to come with all this.” He doesn’t specify what this is. He doesn’t have to.

Dream takes a breath. “Well—”

“What were you going to say?” George cuts him off. “I’ll look so what, Dream? We're not about to go off to war; there's no battle to fight right now. Just… tell me.”

“Beautiful,” Dream replies. “You’ll look so beautiful. And you did.”

George freezes.

“I’m sorry,” Dream says.

There’s been too many apologies today. George looks over at him. Dream stares down his sword, eyes fixated on some point in the dirt. George places a hand on his arm. They’re in the courtyard. He resists the panicked urge to lower his hand. Dream looks over at him.

“If you were to die,” George says, “I would miss you.”

Dream turns, fully facing him. George puts his hands on his shoulders, holds tight. “Even when you’re next to me now, I miss you.”

“I wish I had run away with you, George,” Dream tells him. “Just so I could do this, and not feel guilty.”

George tenses. “Do what?”

Dream kisses him.

The strongest dam in Essempy will never break, no matter if it cracks or leaks. George doesn’t want to be the strongest dam.

When Dream pulls away, George tightens his hold on him where his hands have slid off his shoulders down to around his arms. “Don’t feel guilty,” he says. Their foreheads rest against one another, and George closes his eyes, every breath Dream exhales one he inhales.

“A knight isn’t supposed to be in love with his king,” Dream replies.

“A king isn’t supposed to be in love with his knight.”

George never wants to forget the feeling of Dream’s lips on his.

;;

“I’ll change the rules,” George tells him later. “I’m a king. I can do that. Just for you and me, for us—I’ll change the rules.”

Dream runs a hand through his hair, and George leans into the touch. He’s the sunflower; Dream is the Sun. “If it makes you happy,” Dream tells him.

“It would,” George replies. “And if I get told no, if I’m shut down—”

“You won’t be,” Dream says. “I won’t let that happen. Sapnap won’t let that happen.”

It’s nice, knowing Sapnap is on their side.

“I just want to see you happy.”

“I am,” George tells him. “I really am.” And finally, he means it.

#dreamnotfound #gream #dnf #fic #fanfiction

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