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chcrryade · 3 months ago

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⠀⠀˚⠀PROMISE ME YOU’LL RUN⠀ ┉ ┉ ⠀Yijun’s not one to make friends. But as it seems, there’s always room for enemies.

INCLUDING ⁺⠀qiao yijun, qwak yunseo. TIMESTAMP ⁺⠀BACKSTAGE INKIGAYO, 8 AUGUST 2021. WARNINGS ⁺⠀swearing, arguments. WORD COUNT ⁺⠀2.1K NOTE ⁺⠀find yunseo here. oh yiseven beef i missed you.. i still think this is cringe but we ball

Sweat was drying uncomfortably on the back of Yijun’s neck. The makeup plastered all over his face felt cakey, unnatural. The lights were too bright and his shoes were too big and with every step he took down the corridor he felt irritation dancing along his skin, sparks flickering and waiting for the final little inconvenience to tip him over the edge, ignite him completely.

He wanted to go. Where, he wasn’t exactly sure, but he knew was that he wanted to be somewhere else. Outside. A bar. The dorms—and not the new ones, in the new apartment the company had set the rest of the newcomers up with and shoved a room in for him too—the original ones. With Hyeonmin. And Ilwoo. And fuck, he’d even be happy to see Jiyeol’s perpetually dead-eyed stare looking back at him when he opened the door. Back home, in their flat. His mother had probably ripped out every memory he’d made in his childhood bedroom to replace it with some minimalistic decor and some fake potted plants and an exercise bike by now, since the last time he’d spoken to her on the phone she’d been waxing lyrical about her ‘new health goals’ for the year.

Anywhere other than the Inkigayo backstage corridors sounded like a dream. He’d take a locked and bolted room with completely blank walls and no-one for company other than Jaehee over a minute longer here.

His fingers crept up the sleeve of the jacket he was wearing and his nails scraped long trails up and down his arms, touch cool to the overheated skin. The sound of it was muffled, and everything felt a little far away. Like he was drifting underwater, wading around under the surface without any real direction—like now, and how he was pacing up and down the corridors in hopes that something would relieve the itching feeling crawling around just under his skin, jumping from nerve ending to nerve ending.

He didn’t have to search for any longer. The faint pressure closing in on him popped all at once, leaving him gasping for air. Or rather—left him slamming hard into someone’s shoulder as he passed them a little too carelessly, head lost in the clouds and deep underwater simultaneously. He swivelled on the heel of his too-big shoes, his lips poised and ready to toss out a half-hearted apology before going on his way, but then Yijun saw the look he gave him.

It wasn’t outright disgust. However much you hated someone in this business, you’d never let them know. It’d stay hidden in the creases of paper-thin smiles and the palms of clenched fists. The look was more.. Reproachful. A drag sideways to the arm Yijun had hit, a hand coming up to brush it off, and then flicking back over to meet the rapper’s eyes. The stranger’s lip curled up at the corner, half a sneer on his face, and that was the flame that started the fire. That was all it took. An expression that lasted less than a second, gone faster than it had appeared, and Yijun was gritting his teeth, and turning to face him fully, and trying his best to push the burn of all his vitriol into a singular look.

“Surely it didn’t hurt that much. There’s no need for you to give me that face.”

That only served to make the look worse. The sneer was full-force, now, and the stranger’s hand dropped from his arm to thud uselessly against his side in a way that seemed far too loud for the quiet of the hallway, even if it was still populated by the distant chatter from other dressing rooms and constant buzz of the aircon.

“And who are you to tell me how much it hurt? There’s no need to be rude.”

The words fell distorted on unhearing ears, static filling them to the brim instead. Who are you? It wasn’t what he meant, wasn’t at all what was being said—but his mind twisted it that way anyway. Who are you? Reporters at the door. Eyes on his back. A tap on the shoulder, a look of realisation. You’re that.. That Yijun kid, aren’t you? From that group. Whatever they’re called. There’s a new one, now. The other.. Well. I guess you would know what happened to them. From one failed group to another that no-one knew the fate of, from headline to headline and scandal to scandal, and he was still a nobody. Who are you?

He glared right back once he’d snapped himself out of his frozen state, pushing forward to lean closer, leering at the stranger even if he had to raise his gaze to do so. Anger was filling up his head again, leaking out of his ears and pooling onto the floor around the shoes that still didn’t fit. His words were growing in volume, hands clenching and unclenching by his sides and nails leaving crescent moons indented in his palms.

“Rude, my ass. I was just saying.”

Realistically, he knew he should’ve walked away before it went any further. He should’ve turned and retreated, kept it to judging looks when they passed on end-of-show stages and quiet eyerolls when no-one else was looking. But he didn’t, so he couldn’t. Especially when the still-stranger pushed blood-red strands of hair that had come loose from its styling out of his eyes and smiled, the expression stretched thin across his face. Yijun wanted to scream, and he himself didn’t really know why.

“I think I’ve been in this business long enough to know what being rude looks like. What I don’t know is why you think I have a problem with you—I don’t even know who you are.”

His nails bit into his skin so hard it broke. The stranger kept on going.

“I must’ve missed your performance earlier. Or maybe it just wasn’t all that to begin with? Anyway, like I said—I don’t know you.”

You’ll know me in a minute, he thought. His head was pounding, the lights above him boring into his retinas. Because I'll rip your teeth out and carve my name into your arm. Maybe then he’d be remembered. The freak who attacked a fellow idol, a jealous psycho so desperate to be known he’d hurt and tear and dig his teeth in for it. Better than nothing, he supposed.

But he didn’t say that. He bit his tongue, tried to school his face into one of indifference rather than one that would show how affected he was from the comment, and said something else instead. “Do you want a medal? I don’t know who the fuck you are, either. And I doubt you and your own little group of no-names were much better than us.”

That was what seemed to crack him. The smile melted off of his face, the façade having slipped, and Yijun let a grin of his own spread over his lips wide enough to show his teeth. If that was all it took, then—well. He would’ve done it a lot earlier.

The stranger opened his mouth again, brow furrowed and likely ready to fire back, until a voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Yunnie-yah! Where the hell are you?”

Yijun stifled a snicker at the nickname, grinning wider when ‘Yunnie-yah’ only glared harder. A taller man came up from behind but stopped in his tracks at the sight of Yijun, hand almost immediately coming up to rest on the red-haired stranger’s shoulder.

“What’s up? Who’s your friend?”

He laughed again, louder this time. He couldn’t help it. Even ‘Yunnie’ rolled his eyes at the term.

“Far from a friend. Just—I don’t know.”

The taller stranger’s eyes narrowed, hand tightening slightly in its place. “Is there a problem?”

Yijun kept his eyes on the redhead, daring him to speak up. Go on. Snitch. Make a scene. You know you want to.

The redhead said nothing, scoffing and turning away. Despite this, his friend piped up anyway.

“You shouldn’t go around talking shit. It’s not a good look.”

His arms were itching again. His hands uncurled from where they’d been squeezed tightly shut, and he wiped the bleeding crescent moons clean on his sleeves, watched as the red stained the fabric, vaguely thankful it was already dark and he wouldn’t get too harshly reprimanded for the damage. “You shouldn’t accuse people of things you don’t know they’ve done. That doesn’t paint you in a very good light, either.”

The taller one was quicker to anger than the redhead, it seemed. He started forward even if nothing Yijun said had been particularly provocative, gently pushing the shorter to stand behind him. His vision was suddenly too full of dyed hair and narrowed eyes, the conflicting smells of sweat and cologne clouding his senses until he was drowning in it all over again. This was how he was going to be remembered, then. A victim, beaten black and blue after a few misplaced words and a misunderstanding. Again—better than nothing. He’d probably get more money out of that.

Alas, the punch he was waiting for never came. A third voice arose instead. Weren’t they crowding the corridor, now? More shoes thudded down the hallway, splashing in the remnants of his anger, his desperation. Like children on a rainy day, getting their feet wet but not caring until the cold seeped in.

“I sent you off to find him, not hang arou—what the fuck? What are you doing?”

It was getting repetitive. Maybe if it went on for long enough there’d be twenty men piled up in the corridor opposite him. Maybe one of his own members would turn up next. He tried to tune everything out for a moment and when he came back found that he was less angry, and more.. Tired. Over it. The taller one was yanked away, and Yijun pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. He felt like he was drifting again, lost to the raising voices of whatever the trio were going back-and-forth about. Snippets bled through the haze, drifting into one ear and out the other. Can’t you leave well enough alone? He started it. I don’t care. The last thing you need is another hiatus. Fuck you.

When the darkness from his closed eyes morphed into spirals and colours and static, he reopened them to find all three pairs of eyes trained on his figure. A glare, a sneer, a wary look.

“I’m really sorry about this, uh..” the newest arrival of the three stepped forward to apologise, bowing his head and trailing off as he waited for the Yijun to supply his name.

“Yijun.”

“Yijun-ssi. It won’t happen again.”

It could, for all he cared. He’d argue and fight and trade blows all day if it gave him something to do. The apology was paper-thin anyway, hardly counting for much. Still, he nodded along and pasted on a smile as sweet as he could manage.

“It’s alright, sunbaenim.”

Silence fell again. The tallest was the first to clear his throat and stand up straighter, giving him one last look before turning on his heel. He paused and looked back when he realised only the one who had arrived last was following him, but the redhead cut him off before he could say a word, and waved him off.

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

They were back to their stalemate. The glare against the grin. By now the blood on Yijun’s sleeve had dried, and he could feel a blister coming on from the back of his too-big shoes.

“What’s up, Yunnie-yah?”

The sound of him gritting his teeth was audible. Yijun watched the muscles in his jaw tighten, amusement poorly hidden on his face.

“It’s Yunseo. Or nothing at all, if it’s coming from you.”

“Right.”

He hoped his disinterest was discernible, easily distinguished. From the answering look on the redhead’s face, it had come through just fine.

The quiet was back, until Yunnie—Yunseo—shattered it with a stilted cough, glare lessening in its potency, if only for a moment.

“I guess I’ll have to expect seeing you around.”

Nothing sounded worse, in Yijun’s opinion. The aircon buzzed somewhere above his head, and the distant chatter carried on.

“I hope not.”

The redhead scoffed. Yijun couldn't see what look he had on his face, because he’d turned and carried on walking on his original—long-forgotten, but original—path.

His makeup still felt cakey on his face, and the lights were still too bright. But, at the very least, all the irritation that had been coursing through his bloodstream was more or less gone. Pissing people off was something of an outlet, it seemed.

#⠀Ꮺ◞⠀CLUB CLASSIC!⠀⠀⸻⠀⠀writing.#they call me the i need to empty my draftsinator.. cringe writing piece edition #kpop oc #fictional kpop group #fictional idol community #idol oc #fictional idol group

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lumiellle · 1 year ago

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Haikavember Day 1: Oasis

When Kaveh surfaces from his dive, his lungs greedily suck in fresh oxygen. Blinking water droplets from his eyes, a familiar silhouette catches his attention: Alhaitham, sitting on his folded cape by the edge of the naturally formed desert pool, his feet idly splashing water about. Waiting for him. Gold brown shadows dance across his skin, and the sun reflects in his eyes—a neon glare of yellow, almost white—blinding. He makes out an expression of quiet content on Alhaitham’s face.

Alhaitham hasn’t opened his book; he’s just watching Kaveh from his spot in the shade of an Ajilenakh tree.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come in?” Kaveh calls to him, hoping for the unlikely event of him joining him for a swim. He thinks about Alhaitham’s body pressed against his under the water. He’d like that. There’s something exciting about the thought of being naked together here. He imagines picking Alhaitham up, strong legs winding around his hips, and carrying him a few steps. Alhaitham would probably complain, roll his eyes—but there’s also a chance he’d let it happen, teasing Kaveh relentlessly for needing to rely on the water to be able to lift him. Even though he’s still submerged in the cool water, Kaveh’s body warms, heat brimming under his skin.

“Getting my clothes back on would be too much of a hassle,” Alhaitham replies, nipping Kaveh’s fantasy in the bud. He’s not surprised. He knows Alhaitham. They weren’t meant to be stopping here anyway—this little detour was meant to help cool Kaveh’s head, to chase away those persistent thoughts that kept gnawing at him, slowing him down on their trip back home. It’s Alhaitham’s fault that the thoughts filling his mind now are entirely different from the ones from before.

Kaveh wades towards him, wringing his hair as he goes. He stops right in front of Alhaitham, kneels in the sand between his outstretched legs.

Alhaitham’s eyes travel across his naked body unapologetically, following trails of water down his chest, his forearms. He’s seen all of him before, but there’s something in his eyes that doesn’t match the fact—something that makes Kaveh feel like he’s being consumed.

Alhaitham’s throat jumps when Kaveh reaches for him, dragging his hand up the inside of his calf.

“Do you feel better?” Alhaitham asks. His voice comes out strained.

Kaveh’s hand pauses, but he does not retract it. “Hmm. Could be better,” he says. “But you already knew that, didn’t you? You’ve been watching me.” Kaveh lets his fingers slide against Alhaitham’s ankle, nails scratching lightly across sand-crusted skin. He watches the hair on his legs rise, smiling.

“I’m not getting in the water, Kaveh,” Alhaitham says.

Kaveh leans over him in response, watching Alhaitham’s face distort when water drips into his lap, staining his rolled-up pants. Alhaitham’s hands land on Kaveh’s waist, warm fingers digging into his skin. Kaveh presses closer, feels Alhaitham’s clothes soaking up the residue water clinging to his body. Feels Alhaitham shudder under him, his grip on him tightening.

“Get dressed already,” Alhaitham orders, but his hands pull Kaveh closer, not giving him any room to get dressed at all. He exhales forcefully into the cramped space between them, creases forming between his brows. He’s putting on a show. Kaveh can tell now, after months and months of trial and error, after countless ecstatic highs and energy-sapping lows in the process of navigating his new relationship with Alhaitham, that his resolve isn’t nearly as unbreakable as he makes it out to be.

When Kaveh leans down and kisses him, Alhaitham reciprocates without a trace of hesitation. He kisses him back with fervor, a hand sliding into Kaveh’s tangled hair to keep him close. The heat of his touch rivals the desert sun.

They don’t kiss for very long. When Kaveh sits up to catch his breath, Alhaitham scoots back, scrambling to his feet. Before Kaveh can ask him what he’s doing, Alhaitham has stripped off his own shirt, hands working on his belt to get his pants off, too.

“Changed your mind?” Kaveh teases.

Alhaitham doesn’t dignify his question with an answer. Instead, he takes Kaveh’s hand and leads him back into the water.

#haikavember #haikaveh #kavetham #haikavetham #genshin impact #lonnie writes #slowly reposting them here for easier perusal

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canyouplzjust · 4 months ago

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Jane Lane's Falling Rain

In the Grid we sat around the living room of Les's austere apartment firing questions at him, watching him wade through The (data) Stream, while I tried to feel safe after escaping Centerpoint Station following Corvath's ominous words. Echoing in my head was the way he had warned us that we were making waves, and that the Black Skulls were probably on their way to clean up the mess we made. Any by clean up he meant kill anyone we were nice to, and then kill anyone who's body they want to take and play with later. Fuck Max and fuck the Black Skulls, they'll never catch us. I also keep running back the moment of total loss of control I experienced when I took the anti-Dictator gag off of Corvath, and he simply told me to kneel. My knees quivered while I was on my way down. Is this what I've been doing to people this whole time? Jesus H Christ. No wonder they love me. I'm going to tell Hardy to just breathe and maybe he'll finally get the respite he needs.

We learned a lot in the Stream, and Les was projecting a portion of the results into the room, so while I knew we weren't seeing everything he was seeing, it was still really cool to have the holograms illustrating everything we were learning. Very sci-fi, and Les looked like a pro doing it. He gave a final call, "Anything else," he asked before closing down the display. "Can you search for my sister," I blurted out, and a random request returned quite an unexpected result. "It looks like you have a club here, named after you and your sister, its called Jane Lane's Falling Raine," Les showed us what he found and we all sat around confused for a moment. Well, I was confused about how my sister got here, and I assumed the others were considering that I might have lied to them about being in The Grid before, but I guess those thoughts were fleeting because the next question I got was when I wanted to go check it out. Did I think it could be a trap? I think everything is a trap - that's how I'm still alive. But it wasn't a trap, it was a Pandora's box of emotional and sexual confrontation with a dj and a disco ball.

It is around this time that I should take a moment to explain who Cyph is because I met him and I liked him and I hope he stays around for a while. He's Les's ex-boyfriend who clearly never got over him, but he's also kind of a mooch because he's been staying in Les's empty apartment while we were in, well, while we were gone. It has either been 3-5 years for Cyph, I have been insistent that its best not to nail people down about time frames, but I am apparently the only one who feels that way. Whatever, he's a card and his accent is adorable, and he def knows how to party. He actually said he was gonna mention the club to me, because it was weird that I was there with Les, and seemed different, so I guess we're going to investigate that together. I'm not trying to take Les's inventory, but he seemed awful cagey with Cyph and I can't figure out why. Sure, he's a little shady and he looks like he would only have to make one phone call to get crack if we were in my city, but there's just something I trust about him. He's got the disposition of a puppy but the reflexes of a cat. Seems valuable to me. Also his new bf is both hot and cool, my two favorite things.

So, we got dressed to go to the club, and it was a lot of fun, making our outfits from digital scratch. I could see the character designer Les peeking out through the seams of the Neo, and I was really impressed by what she could do, and how effortless it truly was. Did you know she's like a totally famous game developer back on Earth? I don't really play video games, but I'm in nerd-culture enough to have heard about them, and have seen her name once or twice. Certainly a more glamorous life than mine has been for the last 15 years, I can tell you that. Well, I stepped into the glam of a neon red dress (it actually glowed), and I talked Didi out of wearing dread-falls and Rory looked like an actual angel. (pic below)

On our way to the club, in the Johnny Cab, we were buzzing with excitement. We rolled up and I led the line of adventurers with a stride, to the door under a big hologram of myself, flickering between positions like a neon sign. The man at the door looked confused to see me, but I barked at him and he moved like a dog. And we were in! The club was bumping, daytime and nighttime don't really exist here, but it felt like midnight and the music was pitch perfect. I don't have to explain that we did a lap and found the VIP room, and waited for this infamous "Jane Lane" to show her face. Well, she didn't. I was invited into a back room, so i left everyone to their own devices, and I asked Didi and Hardy to stay close. The others, well, their own appetites took them off in different directions.

Les scampered off to charm some evil looking high elves pushing Fair Gold around on a small table. I don't know if his plan was to get spit roasted in a semi-public setting, but it sure seemed like it was going that way while they were licking their chops and pulling him onto their laps. Across the dance floor Rory was making out with the goddess of excess (I didn't catch her name), and her ethereal grinding turned the party UP while I was in the green room, pulling out my .45. Rory's expression of romance inspired Cyph to seek the pleasure he truly wanted - and he walked right up and punched one of those chauvinistic, sadistic elves right in their stupid face. Les was won over, it was like that Tiffany song was happening to him, even if it was just for a moment, and Cyph was a hero.

Oh, yeah, so of course it was Raine. Of course it was my sister who never played the game and she looked like a ghoul and she looked like an echo of a person. I told her she had to stop being me, and that she couldn't have my life, and she said that she could take my life if she wanted. She had a crazed look in her eyes and didn't seem whole enough to have any judgement or compassion. I pulled out my gun to get some space between us, but she rushed me and knocked it out of my hand. In the struggle she stabbed me in the ribs, and didn't stop screaming until I told her to calm down. When the crying had died down to a whimper, I asked her how she got there and she told me that I brought her to DIE. She said "You carry me everywhere you go," and I knew that it was true. Raine was distraught about her meaningless existance, so I told her about what she had been doing in the real world. I told her that she had saved my life, that she had never given up hope on me, even when everyone else had, and at the end of my ten year battle with drugs, that she was the one who got me into rehab the final time. She was the one who got me into rehab every time, actually, and hearing the value her life had to me seemed to imbue this Raine with a little bit more fortitude than she previously possessed. Good. I told her I was going to meet my friend Morpheus later and that I'd ask him to help her, that she could feel better and it wasn't always going to be so empty. Then I called out to Didi in the VIP room, Raine knew her, too. She appeared concerned about the wound, but played it cool while we got Raine dressed and got her makeup done. Just like a friday night at home in so many ways. Raine came out with us to the dance floor and then we just had like a normal night at the a club. (with my face on the outside of it) Les, Rory, Hardy, Cyph and Aeon were all there on the floor, and soon we all felt ecstatic within ourselves. It was a moment of actual fun, carefree connection, and the blood was hardly visible on my red dress anyways. I was looking around the room and I caught a vision of Max across the sea of frenetic movement. I wasn't high, it was him. We locked eyes for a few seconds before he dashed off towards the back of the club. I followed him as fast as I could, but there was no one in the darkness under the stairwell, just a solitary pay phone illuminated my the light of my red neon dress. It rang. I grabbed it immediately, begging to hear the sound of Max's voice. It wasn't the Fallen Master, it was real Max. I knew him.

"Max? I'm here for you. I'm coming for you." "...." "How close am I?" "You're close," and he was gone. Click.

I scrambled the others to try to look for him, but he wasn't anywhere. But we were close, I knew that now.

Before we left, Didi and I went upstairs with Raine to put her to bed. I told her she could keep using my face for the club, but that she would feel better if she worked on being her own person. I told her that Morpheus would get in touch with her, and that her club was really awesome, and she had done a great job cultivating it. Then we sent her to bed, shuffled out the front doors, and we all climbed into the Johnny cab to go back uptown. And get breakfast, obviously.

#die rpg #ic blog

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mythicamagic · 3 years ago

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May I have one for "just wait for me here." "It's not like I can go anywhere." please.

Sesshoumaru arched a brow, staring across the sunlit glade towards a peculiar sight. His brother’s miko was acting strangely. She stood, clutching her bow tight- knuckles turning pale from the force of her grip. She tentatively used one end to feel around the grass, before prodding the ground with her shoe and inching forward.

Although they shared the same clearing, Kagome didn’t look up, nor acknowledge his presence.

Sesshoumaru gave in to curiosity, not particularly concerned about an enemy but too intrigued to ignore this display. She jerked when his boot crunched on a twig.

“Stay back!” Kagome snarled, voice shaking as she whipped her bow up defensively.

Sesshoumaru bit back a chuckle. What good would a mere bow do as a weapon without arrows? His humour soon abated however, staring into her murky blue eyes that gazed just over his shoulder.

Ah, I understand.

“W-who’s there?” she stammered, fear clouding her scent.

Inuyasha and her friends were clearly absent, always so foolish. They’d left a blinded miko vulnerable and alone?

Sesshoumaru gave the quivering woman a once over, noticing a few scrapes over her bare knees. Cut rope looped around her freed wrists. That strange white and green clothing she always wore was marred with dirt, torn in various places. She’d likely been kidnapped and escaped her captor on her own. Mildly impressive.

Still, she was nothing to do with him. Sesshoumaru turned on one heel.

“S-sesshoumaru?” Kagome called out tentatively. The words became firmer, more confident. “Sesshoumaru...wait. Please.”

The Daiyoukai paused, looking at her sightless blue eyes. “How is it that you knew who I was?”

She released a short, hard breath, clearly relieved to be speaking with someone. “I’m getting better at sensing stuff, I guess.”

“Hn,” he frowned, “and your eyes?”

Kagome touched her cheek, curling in on herself a little, “a demon blew a powder into my face and it blinded me. He kidnapped me...but I managed to get away. I just hope its temporary, ya know?” she gave a nervous giggle, despair threatening to take her under. Sesshoumaru hummed, attention drawing away to the forest surrounding them. He knew these woods well, and there was nothing around for miles. No villages nor clans. Just wild flatlands that eventually led to the mountains. She’d certainly ran a long way.

“I know we’re not friends- or even allies,” Kagome mumbled. “You’ve got no reason to help me-”

“That is correct,” he silkily agreed.

Her pretty features tightened with barely concealed frustration, amusing him. “But I’d owe you, hugely, if you just drop me off where Inuyasha can find me. I promise I’d return the favour- tenfold!”

Sesshoumaru chuckled, rather liking his position in this situation, studying his immaculate nailbeds in an unnecessary show of disinterest. “There is nothing a human could give to me that would be worth my time- nor do I need a favour.”

Blowing out a frustrated hiss of air through her teeth, Kagome stepped forward, gazing in his general direction. “So you’re going to just leave me here?”

“As previously established, miko,” he purred in a low tone. “We are not friends nor allies. Are we lovers?” he teased.

She instantly turned red, barking; “in your dreams!”

“Well then, if we are not friends, allies nor lovers, I have no need to heed your cries above those of the ants I crush beneath my feet when I walk,” Sesshoumaru turned away again, heading in the opposite direction.

“Wait!”

The desperate crunch of feet thundering through tall grass reached his ears, though the demon lord kept pace. Something knocked into his side- and Kagome stumbled, before latching tight onto mokomoko, wrapping her arms around his furs and hugging them to her chest.

Golden eyes widened at her audacity, pressing a palm against her forehead, trying to extract her from his person. “Off.”

“No way!” she twisted and tried to bite at his hand, narrowing sightless eyes. “Don’t be so heartless. At the very least, leave me at the nearest village- jerk!”

“You are doing a poor job of endearing yourself to me, wench,” Sesshoumaru lifted his hand, resting sharp claws against her damp forehead, slick with sweat. He prodded warningly. “Release this one.”

Kagome shuddered but refused to let go. “I-if I do, I’m as good as dead anyway,” she murmured, tightening her grip. “Please.”

Sesshoumaru flirted with the idea of releasing acid from his nails and reducing the nuisance into a pile of melted flesh and bone. However, even while blind- those blue eyes managed to fill him with a strange sense of intrigue. If this woman died, he ludicrously felt that the fates would turn their wrath upon him, not that he heeded the threat of any higher powers. She was so unusual in appearance, word and deed he could not help but think her a special existence, but even were she ordinary, Sesshoumaru felt his world would become less amusing without her presence in it. Encounters with Inuyasha would prove somewhat blander.

Sneering, his claws lowered. Continuing to walk with no acknowledgement of her trailing form hurrying after him, Sesshoumaru allowed her to hang onto mokomoko like it were a lifeline.

----

Kagome focused on keeping her footing, stumbling after the silent Daiyoukai. His furs pillowed her cheek, comfortable and silky. From what she could tell they’d left the wilder grass behind, her muddy loafers crunching on twigs and dry earth.

They didn’t talk often and she didn’t give voice to her exhaustion, closing her eyes after a while since it did little good to keep them open, her world endlessly black.

She tried not to fall prey to the dark feelings of dread and worry threatening to claim her, lingering on the outskirts of her tired mind. She’d come too far to give up now.

Kagome bumped into something solid and stopped. “What is it?” she mumbled.

“I am going to rest for the night.”

“Oh…”

His voice sounded a little light, which meant he found something entertaining. “I take it you are going to cling to me throughout?”

“Y-yeah, can’t have you running off on me.”

“Hn, if that is the case, measures will need to be taken.”

Kagome wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. Nonetheless, she faithfully followed when he walked on, having little choice in the matter.

Warm, stuffy vapour began caressing her skin, rendering it slightly damp, her hair curling from the humidity. It began closing in around her like a shroud, the air thinning a little. Lapping water reached her keen hearing.

“Hot springs?”

“Indeed.”

Mild alarm raced through her bloodstream. Kagome squeaked- feeling herself being lifted up, a single hand grabbing her by the scruff and yanking so hard mokomoko was successfully pried from her grip, sending her flying through the air. Kagome cried out when water rushed up to meet her, warm and lulling, closing over her head. She quickly found her footing on the bottom of the pool and pushed up, sputtering as she broke the surface.

“You jerk! What the hell?!”

Sesshoumaru answered with a lofty chuckle. “You cannot expect to sleep near me while wearing such dirty clothes.”

“Throwing me into a hot spring isn’t the answer though!” she growled, splashing the water in his general direction, though she had no idea if it made contact or not.

“Hm? Would you have preferred being stripped bare to shudder against me all night long?” he suggested offhandedly.

“Of course not,” Kagome gritted out.

“Then I suggest you start bathing yourself, miko.”

Hesitating, Kagome wrestled with herself. The sound of his boots stepping over rocks and drawing further away loosened her tongue.

"J-just don't abandon me here, okay?"

He halted. "And what will you do if I decline to listen?"

"I'll haunt your ass once I'm dead."

"Hn."

He continued on, his answer not exactly assuaging Kagome's fears. With little else to do but tentatively trust him, she stripped out of her uniform and bathed as best she could. Without the use of soap or a sponge and being unable to see the dirt being washed away, it would likely be an unsuccessful bath. She tried her best to make herself 'clean', scrubbing at her uniform for good measure.

The silence was heavy, only broken by the sound of gently lapping water. She had no idea what time it was. How far away Inuyasha and her friends were. Kagome shivered, hugging her arms to her chest. She began to feel paranoid, suspecting the slightest sound. Dark youkai reached out, brushing her senses.

Kagome exhaled in relief, hanging onto Sesshoumaru’s aura.

“Step out of the water.”

She stiffened at the abrupt sound of his commanding voice. “And let you see me naked? No thank you.”

“There is no point in assuring you that I will not- since you cannot see if I am being truthful. I can merely promise that my curiosity about the human form will never be acted upon.”

Kagome flushed red. So he could look He just disliked humans too much to ever be ‘interested.’

She reluctantly supposed she had little choice in the matter. Standing, Kagome waded through the hot waters towards his voice, reaching out to feel for the side in order to climb out- only for her hand to be ensnared, captured by lithe fingers.

Kagome’s hazy eyes widened, climbing out with the aid of his grip, quickly covering herself with both arms as soon as she were able. “M-my clothes are wet…”

Something wrapped around her body, and she recognised the material to be a short towel. Quickly drying herself, Kagome paused when new, silky material nudged against her cheek. “Dress in this once you are done,” Sesshoumaru’s low voice rumbled.

Since she could sense his strong, dark presence linger close, she wondered if he were watching out for enemies or just plain watching her. Kagome fumbled with the silks, feeling around for the collar. Sesshoumaru’s rumbling chuckle made goosebumps race over her bare skin. She nearly bit out a comment- feeling hot breath fan over her forehead. His single arm nudged at hers, guiding her hand through a sleeve, before holding the parting open, allowing her to slip it on. Kagome blushed wildly, groping for the obi and hurriedly tying it at her waist.

A cool hand stilled hers once she was done, cutting into the rough rope still bound around her freed wrists. Kagome murmured her thanks.

“Where did you get the yukata?” she mumbled.

Mokomoko bumped her chest and Kagome held onto it reflexively as Sesshoumaru strolled away, the furs guiding her forwards. “I have many bases littered around the countryside, should I need to make use of them for trysts or shelter.”

“T-trysts?” she squeaked. “Is this clothing from...?”

“Do not worry, foolish one. That is an unused article of clothing. I keep them in case my lovers are in need of a spare change of clothes. I have been known to be...impatient.”

She arched a brow and used her free hand to measure the length of her sleeves, touching the seams. “This is a man’s yukata.”

“What of it?”

Kagome clicked. “Oh, nothing. I just didn’t know you were interested in guys.”

Sesshoumaru gave a tired, long-suffering sigh while wafting steam pulled away from their bodies, leaving them exposed to the cool air while they walked through what Kagome assumed to be a sparse forest. “Provided an individual captures my interest, gender has no bearing on who I share a bed with. It is inconsequential to me, unlike humans with your...limited choices.”

“Hey! Humans can swing both ways too. A-and look who’s talking! You’re getting all high and mighty about gender but species and blood purity matter a great deal to you. Sounds limiting to me.”

He became silent for a moment, which made Kagome feel slightly victorious. “Admittedly I have never lain with a human before,” he pretended to sound considering. “Are you volunteering yourself, miko?”

“As if,” she snorted, cheeks burning red. “You’ve tried to kill Inuyasha,” she quickly supplied as a valid excuse.

“Hn,” he gave an entertained noise, “so if we were not enemies, you would accept?”

Her mouth grew dry, feeling like she’d held her face over a flickering fire. “You’re way too arrogant to be my type.”

The sound of his quiet chuckle changed as they seemed to step into an enclosed space. Kagome reached out and touched a rocky surface, dragging her palm over it. The remnants of a demonic barrier littered the area. She suddenly stopped, yanking mokomoko and forcing Sesshoumaru to stop with her. “Have you just taken me into one of your trysting spots?"

“Where else are we to rest?”

“Not here!” she burst.

“You complain often, miko. I will leave you to the hungry animals outside if need be," he sneered. "Do not worry. This place has not seen use in a long time and is clean, I assure you,” his tone lulled into a patronising one.

Kagome held her tongue, uncomfortably settling down onto a silky bed of furs when he guided her over to it. She felt extremely weird. Staying in a place where Sesshoumaru had once had sex wasn’t exactly how she’d envisioned her Thursday going.

Something smooth and pronged was placed into her hand- and she gentled a little, quietly thanking him. Beginning to brush her wet hair, Kagome carded her fingers through the strands, making a soft noise of enjoyment.

All the while, she felt the keen sensation of being watched. Arranging herself into a more comfortable position on the bed, she sighed, gazing in his general direction. “I might be blind right now but I can feel your eyes on me. What’s up?”

“Up?”

“I mean- is something bothering you?”

“No,” he sounded briefly considering. “Rather...this one noticed your ears.”

“Hm? The fact that they’re round compared to yours?”

His thumb and forefinger closed around the sterling silver stud pierced through her earlobe. Kagome stiffened, soon relaxing. “Oh, my earrings? They’re not a big deal.”

“They are different from what I have seen before,” he stroked the shell of her ear consideringly, making her shiver. "I wish to test something.”

Since the demon lord had been magnanimous enough to offer shelter, provide new clothing and allow her to tag along with him, Kagome decided to indulge his curiosity. She sensed him move and root through something nearby, a box, she assumed.

I wish I could look around, her lips pursed, exceptionally interested in what one of his hideaways looked like.

“Remove the earrings.”

Nodding, Kagome fiddled with them, taking them out and rubbing her ears slightly. Removing them always felt weird. An inquisitive claw brushed her ear, and Kagome swallowed, holding still with mild confusion as Sesshoumaru donned her with new earrings. When he pulled away, Kagome brushed her fingers over them, finding some sort of stone dangling from her ears. They were cool to the touch and weren’t too heavy, a nice weight.

“What kind of stone are they?”

“Never you mind,” he rumbled, something tickling her brow. She wondered if it were his bangs sliding forward. Soft breath fanned over her nose before it pulled away. “Merely wear those for the duration of your stay. They suit you.”

Kagome tilted her head slightly, “well...okay? They’re not a keepsake from an old flame, are they?”

“No. Those are mine.”

She hummed, touching them again. “You can keep my earrings if you like. They can be my way of saying thanks. They kinda look like diamonds so maybe they’re to your expensive tastes.”

Even though they’re fakes.

Sesshoumaru made a rumbling noise that she assumed was positive, and wondered if they had been his true aim all along. She figured that would be all for the night- before feeling a touch against her hair. Kagome paused, fighting an exasperated smile. Who knew Sesshoumaru could be kind of… cute?

"Anything else?"

"Hn, your hair would suit this kanzashi. Hold still."

Kagome got the feeling their dress-up session was going to take a while.

---

When she awoke, the permanent darkness made it difficult to know exactly what time it was. Only the birds chirping in the trees outside let her know dawn had broken. The heat at her back that had warmed her throughout the night was gone. Kagome sat up, touching her bed hair and refusing to examine what the warmth had belonged to.

"Sesshoumaru?" she rasped.

She heard him shift and stand within the cave, "I sense something nearby. Wait for me here."

"It's not like I can go anywhere," she quipped, smiling slightly.

He made a noise of acknowledgement, walking away. His footsteps became softer until they disappeared completely. Kagome felt unnerved by it.

She reached out with her aura, but this time there was no assurance from his dark youki. Kagome steadied her breathing, trying not to freak out.

Strangely, the darkness was giving way to something. Murky shapes. Browns, whites and buttery yellows. Kagome’s heart burst with gladness.

“Holy shit,” she breathed. “It wasn’t permanent...thank God.”

She could see! Well, kind of. Colours were back though, and shapes were sure to follow.

A commotion was happening outside though. Distant cries could be heard, along with familiar shouting. Kagome stumbled to her feet, following the light source out into the open despite the lack of solid objects yet.

Inuyasha’s loud voice broadcasted his location, making him easy to find- a bold red blur to Kagome’s eyes. Other colours were nearby, purples, blacks, pinks, yellows, oranges and greens.

“Guys!” she breathed.

The murky shapes turned, sharpening slightly into hazy focus. She registered Inuyasha’s horrified features. “K-Kagome...what the hell?”

She blinked and frowned, wondering what his problem was. The Hanyou rounded on a white shape that had sprinkles of red mixed in. “Hey, bastard! Why the fuck is Kagome dressed up like that? W-why does she reek of you!”

Looking down towards a nearby puddle, Kagome crouched and squinted, curious about what Inuyasha was babbling about. Her face came into focus, and her lips parted in surprise.

It wasn’t just one kanzashi, a few were nestled into her fall of curling wild hair. They glittered in the morning light. Some made of ivory, the others were black and adorned with gems. The blue of her eyes linked beautifully with the sapphires hanging from her ears. Everything paired well with the yukata he’d given her, which was white with illustrated ocean waves and smoky clouds patterning its hem and sleeves.

After enduring kidnapping- stumbling about blind for many hours, falling into ditches and streams and not knowing if she would live or die- Kagome couldn’t help but appreciate being swathed in finery. It made it feel a bit...pampered. Happy.

“Kagome, are you alright?”

She raised her head to find Sango and the others drawing closer, Inuyasha was still engaged with a verbal sparring match with Sesshoumaru that would likely head south soon.

“I’m fine,” she murmured, Shippo’s cute face appeared near hers, clear as day.

“We were worried!” he exclaimed. “We couldn’t find you anywhere after Inuyasha caught up with that demon goat and killed him.”

Nice to know my kidnapper is dead, she thought dryly, murmuring an assurance to Shippo but soon standing. She hurried closer to Inuyasha just as he took out Tetsusaiga.

“Hey- stop,” she called firmly, grasping his trailing sleeve. “That’s enough. Sesshoumaru took care of me last night, that’s all.”

“Took care of you?” Inuyasha paled, ears pinning back.

Kagome turned red. “W-what? What’s weird about that? Nothing happened!”

“Then why are you dressed like- like...that!”

Sesshoumaru gave a velvety chuckle from where he stood further away, tilting his chin up and curling his lips with an air of disdain. “I amused myself with your miko, Inuyasha, that is all,” he sneered. “She struggled so sweetly beneath me when I forced the clothes on her.”

“Bastard!” Inuyasha snarled, confused when Kagome stepped in between them. She glared first at the Hanyou, “Quit it- both of you! You’re acting like children!”

Turning her dimmed sights on Sesshoumaru, she struggled to see him clearly since he stood further away. “I don’t know what you seek to gain from lying but...thank you for all that you’ve done up till now,” she murmured. “My offer still stands if you need a favour.”

Inuyasha blustered behind her, shouting up a storm. Kagome muttered a ‘Sit’ to get him to quiet, straining to hear Sesshoumaru’s reply.

To her surprise, with Inuyasha briefly incapacitated, Sesshoumaru drew closer. The sweep of his brows, regal nose and cupid’s bow of his lips caught her dazed attention- her breath halting. Familiar diamond style studded earrings adorned his ears.

“These will do nicely as payment, miko,” he rumbled.

Kagome blinked and slowly smiled, sharing a quiet moment with him. “I-I suppose you’ll want these back,” she murmured, closing her hands around the sapphires on her ears.

“I have plenty more.”

“Right, of course you do,” she giggled, hearing Inuyasha squeak out a ‘did you just giggle at Sesshoumaru?!’ from his crater.

“Hn, as I said, they suit you,” Sesshoumaru turned. “And miko?”

“Yes?”

He began walking away, but she could hear the smile in his voice without seeing his expression. “You have captured my interest.”

Kagome’s eyes widened, heart bursting into overdrive. Her stomach fluttered with butterflies, and she felt a mix of confusion and anticipation.

Ditto, she thought with a faint smile.

#sesskag #sesshoumaru #inuyasha #sesshoumaru x kagome #sesskag fanfiction #kagome higurashi

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mmvalentine · 4 years ago

Note

hi, how are you? Could you please write feysand + helion, I wonder how it went when rhys realized his dream to have two males worshiping feyre haha

Oooh okay, let’s do a continuation of Five Minutes, since Rhys and Feyre have already made it into Helion’s bed... read that first and then come over here for three times the fun x

Helion opened his bedroom door to find the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court in his bed. They blinked at him when he flicked the light on.

“Well,” he said, voice full of merry amusement. “Is it my birthday already?”

It took a second, but Feyre’s brain seemed to catch up, and then her eyes went wide and she scrambled for her clothing.

“It’s been quite a while since I’ve seen you in my bed, Rhysand,” Helion said. Feyre paused. “What, a century, do you think?”

Feyre gaped at her mate.

Rhys however, just sat up a little against the headboard, folded his arms behind his head, and stretched his legs out.

“Two, if I count correctly,” Rhys purred. “My my, time does fly,” Helion mused, and Feyre’s eyes flicked between them like she was watching tennis.

Picturing it now, are you Feyre darling? Rhys asked down the bond. Feyre relaxed a little from her startled pose. Well now that you mention it.

Rhys’ eyes sparked.

Helion closed the door behind him and started walking around the room, hanging up his cloak on a hook and removing jewellery from his wrists like he found naked friends in his bed every day.

In fact, after the recent revelation, Feyre was starting to wonder if he did.

“Staying or going, my dears?” Helion asked. “You’re welcome to do either, but I’m old and it’s late and I’d rather know sooner than later.”

Rhys looked from Feyre, to Helion, and back again.

Never having been one to miss an opportune moment, I have to ask, Rhys said in her mind. Would you want to stay? Feyre hesitated. Would you? she asked back. You know I’ve always wanted to see you worshipped between two males. Feyre shifted, and her scent changed, just slightly. You have mentioned it, yes.

Rhys grinned feline. I’m going to tell him we’re staying, he said. Okay, Feyre said shyly.

Helion braced his hands on the foot of the bed.

“What’s it to be?” he asked them.

“Well, now that we’re already here,” Rhys began. Feyre watched flames light in Helion’s eyes. “Oh it is my birthday,” Helion murmured. “You know Rhys, it’s been a while since I’ve had a decent top.” Rhys laughed. “Actually,” he said. “I thought we might focus on Feyre, tonight.”

Helion’s head swung around to where she sat, still clutching her dress against her chest.

“Mmm a new toy, just as good. I would love to unwrap you honey.” He cocked his head at her. “You look nervous. Never done this before?” Feyre shook her head. “Oh, poor little mouse.” Helion sat down on the bed. “How about, I tell you a little story to get you warmed up, and then you can see if you still want to stay, hm?”

“Okay,” Feyre breathed.

“Shall I tell you about the last time I had your mate in this bed?”

Feyre swallowed, and nodded. Shyness, intrigue, and scandal warred inside her.

Helion glanced toward Rhys, who gave a smirk and nodded his ascent. Rhys pulled Feyre into his lap, and moved his lips on her bare shoulder. Feyre pulled the blanket over them both.

“It was two hundred years ago,” Helion said. He removed his sandals and dropped them on the floor by his bed, before stretching his legs out next to Rhys’. Rhys reached out to rub the arch of Helion’s foot, and the strangely familiar motion caught Feyre’s eye.

“Your mate was just a pup at that time, really,” Helion mused. “I found him standing in the ocean, in the middle of the night. The moon above him, the water below. He looked so beautiful. I had to touch him.”

Rhys’ nails ran up the sides of Feyre’s thighs.

“What exactly he was doing in the Day Court I’m not sure, what he was doing naked in the ocean I’m even less certain.” “I was visiting your libraries,” Rhys said simply. Helion tilted his head. “That still doesn’t explain the midnight swim. But I’m glad you were there, because I myself was out for a stroll, angry at the world and looking for distraction, when I found you. My own personal siren.”

“What were you angry at?” Feyre asked. Helion waved his hand. “Oh who knows. It’s been two centuries. But I do remember wading in after Rhys, just so I could stroke my hand down the muscles of his back.”

Rhys smiled into Feyre’s shoulder, and his hands curved over her legs. Brushed the insides of her thighs.

“I think I was trying out a spell,” Rhys remembered. “Ah, that’s right,” Helion said, clicking his fingers. “You wanted something that would keep you warm regardless of the environment. Well it wasn’t working, you were freezing.” He looked back at Feyre. “I convinced him to come with me back to the house, and told him the true elixir of warmth was a quality brandy.”

Rhys laughed, his lips now at the nape of Feyre’s neck.

“I’ll have you know I perfected that spell, and it now warms my houses in the mountains.”

“Yes very good, very good,” Helion said dismissively. “The point is,” he said to Feyre, raising his eyebrows. “That I got a goodly amount of liquor in him, and then put my hand on his chest to see if he was warming up yet. Trouble was, once I started touching him I couldn’t stop.”

Rhys was moving his own hands now, under the blanket, over Feyre’s abdomen. Lower.

“We made love for four hours, until the sun came up,” Helion said. “Of course, this was after I coaxed him into my bed. Would you like me to show you how?”

Feyre’s face flushed with heat. She nodded.

Helion shifted, moved sinuously like a jungle cat. He slid his white robe off and dropped it to the floor next to his sandals, and now he was all ebony skin stretched taut over an ocean of muscle. In nothing but his undershorts.

“The truth of it is,” he said, his voice growling from his throat. “That all it takes is one very, very good kiss.” Helion sat in front of Feyre with his legs crossed, and cupped his hands gently around her face. His amber eyes, like burning honey, glowed in the dark with a warmth Feyre was not used to seeing in the cool dark of the Night Court. Like if she fell far enough into them she might find the sun.

Helion tugged her forward slightly, and then, much more gently than she had anticipated, he kissed her lips.

At the same time, Rhys started circling his fingernails over her bare back. Helion moved slowly, languidly, and gradually the kiss deepened. A slide of their lips. A pause, a reconnect. The trail of his tongue on her lower lip, the suck of his mouth on the upper. Before she knew it, she had dropped the dress she was holding in front of her, and she was leaning forward with her hands braced against Helion’s knees as he licked the inside of her teeth.

When Feyre sat up slightly to get closer to Helion, Rhys bit down on the join between her neck and her shoulder, and electricity crackled up Feyre’s spine. She shivered with the sensation, and Helion pulled her further forward, lifting her up higher out of Rhys’ lap and onto her knees. Her hands fell onto Helion’s thighs. Rhys followed the movement, and was now trailing his lips up the side of her neck to suck at the hollow under her ear. Down her spine. Teeth on her ass.

A low moan escaped from Feyre’s lips, and Helion answered with a rumbling groan of his own.

“Mmm that’s it little mouse, come closer to me,” he said to her. And then Rhys dropped down behind her, tugged her hips backward and put his tongue on her pussy from behind.

Feyre gasped, breaking her kiss with Helion, and he chuckled. “Yes, quite an enviable position you’re in my dear,” he said. As he slid his fingers along her tongue, then trailed them down her body and pressed them lightly against her clit. “If memory serves, your mate there is certainly skilled with that mouth of his.” Rhys made his point by pushing his tongue deeper inside of her. Feyre’s nails dug into Helion’s legs.

“Is it wicked of me to wonder if it’s a skill you have in common?”

It took a Feyre a second to register what Helion was asking, but then he rose up on his knees, Feyre’s hands dropping to the bed. From this position, his hips were level with her face. Helion stroked his fingers under her jaw, and then rolled his hips so that his hard cock brushed against her lips under his tight cotton shorts.

Rhys? Feyre asked. Mmmm? Is this okay? Rhys chuckled down the bond. Whatever is okay by you is delightful by me.

So Feyre pulled down the front of Helion’s undershorts and licked up the length of his cock with the tip of her tongue.

Helion let out a rumble of approval, and Rhys grinned in her mind. You’re fucking stunning, he said. While speeding up his tongue inside her.

Helion threaded his fingers through Feyre’s hair with one hand, and with the other he lowered the tip of his cock to her mouth. She circled her tongue around the tip and Helion’s eyes slid closed.

Rhys moved then. Came up on his knees behind Feyre, and lined himself up at her entrance. Watched carefully as Feyre put her lips around Helion’s hardness, and then pushed himself into her at the same time as she took Helion’s whole cock into her mouth. Filling her up twice over.

Feyre moaned with her mouth full, and the vibration of it had Helion’s hand tightening in her hair. For a while they found a rhythm and moved together just like that, and the hum of Feyre’s pleasure spun out, stretched down the bond and echoed through Rhys’ own body until he was fucking her so hard she was forced further down on Helion’s cock.

When Feyre choked a little both males withdrew, and Rhys pulled her down to lie at his side. Helion lay down on her other side, and then Rhys kissed her softly as his hand slid down her body and stroked over her clit. Helion palmed one of her breasts, and put his mouth on the other, scraping his teeth over her nipple. He drew her leg between his, so she was spread further, and then slid two fingers right inside her. Worked her in and out while Rhys curled his free hand under her thigh and pushed circles against her clit.

And then in stark contrast to the roughness of their previous position, the two of them wound her up so slowly, tighter and tighter, until her lips were moving in silent begging and her hips were bucking off the bed looking for more. Helion and Rhys built their rhythm, taking their time over her, at such a leisurely pace Feyre thought she might die from pleasure. Then just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, she was right on the edge, falling slow and then very hard and fast into her climax.

Feyre cried out and spasmed between them, and Helion and Rhys held her down, stroked over her with strong hands and reverent tongues. Finally, her body spent, Feyre lay still and a pleasant heaviness lay thick over her. She was vaguely aware of Helion leaning over her to share a long, lush kiss with Rhys, and then they both settled around her as she fell asleep between them.

****

Holy lord it’s late and past my bedtime someone pls stop me. Literally don’t know if any of this is coherent anymore sorryyyyy 🙃

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @thalia-2-rose @positivewitch @feyrearcherons @feysand-loml @asteria-of-mars

#asks #prompt fills #feysand #feysand fics #smut

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ilguna · 4 years ago

Text

Redamancy - Chapter Four (f.o)

summary: it’s time to forgive and repair.

warnings; swearing, MURDER, GORE.

wc; 8.8k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

Even though the Hunger Games doesn’t start until ten, you’re in the betting room at nine. You’re not the first and only mentor to come down bright and early, there’s plenty of others who are already making their way around the room. Shaking hands, exchanging compliments and holding friendly conversation.

You’re not exactly the same way, as you stand off to the side, gnawing on your thumb’s nail. You’ve watched Annie and Marsh’s odds bob up and down plenty of times already, as the gamemakers try to decide where they belong last minute. So far, Annie and Marsh are back to back in numbers, with Marsh being on top.

“You’re stressed.”

Gloss is staring up at the betting board when you look over at him. He’s got his arms crossed, serious and straight-faced. In the past, he would be some type of excited because of their undeniably fantastic tributes. This year is different, as you’ve already discovered many times. His male tribute scored lower than usual, and the girl is higher by one single point.

It’s normal for the careers to score from anywhere between eight and ten, but that doesn’t mean they want an eight. They want nines and tens, because it shows proficiency and dangerousness. Plus, it’s normally District Four who’s scoring eights and whatnot. A good example of that is when Finnick scored the number when he was fourteen.

Today’s seriousness doesn’t reflect the attitude that was being presented last night. Last night was much livelier, a laughing group of mentors on the streets of the Capitol. Of course, as Finnick requested, you all stayed inside and in private rooms for most of the time, but eventually he decided that he wanted to experience the festival the way you guys normally do.

Which is practically chaos, as Gloss and Enobaria feed into each other’s bad thoughts and drag you around the city doing whatever they want. Trying on regular Capitol wear, buying replica crowns that Snow places on the brows of victors. They try different drinks and foods, all a hundred different flavors, some sweet, others sour, sometimes spicy.

The Capitol is a playground to them, and it’s fun to watch them break rules and create their own. Playing games on the sidewalk to see who will chug the next cherry vodka, who will lose a shirt or a sock or a piece of expensive jewelry down a storm drain. The night of the interviews is the only night where you all get to be your true selves.

Even Finnick felt comfortable enough to join in on your antics. It’s always a night to remember, you’re sure that he’ll be using it to tell stories in the future. The year where you cornered Finnick to helping you, and how he saw that you weren’t always who you pretended to be. It’s easy to be professional when you don’t like someone, but it’s harder to contain yourself when you’re surrounded by people who understand what you’re going through.

Of course, it’s only one night. If your tributes die, you get sent home, so you never have the chance to congratulate and celebrate with your friends after they bring home another tribute. You can always say your peace the next year, but by then they’re over it, and they’re ready for another victor.

“So are you.” you playfully punch his bicep, “Look at you, you never cross your arms.”

He gives you a smile, “Whatever, it’s not that much of a giveaway.”

“You’re right, it was definitely your face. You never scowl.” You look at the board again to see that all the numbers seem to be locked, “Careful, you’ll end up with wrinkles. After that, people will really begin to realize that you’re older than Cashmere.”

The board is a little confusing at first to get used to, but after years of looking at it, you’ve grown accustomed to it. At the top reads ‘MORNING LINE ODDS’, and below is a row readied for how many days, hours, minutes and seconds the tributes have been inside of the arena. Which is none at the moment, so instead they have a countdown going on. Fifty-four minutes. Less than an hour.

Below it are more rows and information about the tributes. The left states their district, and then it splits into two. The Capitol doesn’t care about names anymore, just the important parts. Their heights, weights, ages, betting odds and faces are displayed for everyone to see.

For Gloss and Cashmeres tributes, they’re both doing fairly good on odds. The girl has a predicted 5-1 chance of winning, and the boy has a 7-1. In the past, the roles have been reversed, the boys always show a brute strength during their private training so it’s hard not to score like that. Enobaria and Wades tributes are better, even with the repeating numbers. The girl has a 5-1 too, but the boy holds a 3-1 because of his score.

The gamemakers are used to your tributes’ scores teetering on the edge of very good and mediocre, which normally earns them a 9-1 or lower. However, since your tributes have shown promise through personality and matching high numbers, you’re staring at a 7-1 for Marsh and a 8-1 for Annie. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than the past scores.

You think that the lowest you’ve seen for District Four is a 20-1. That was a particularly horrible year, and since then you’ve learned to stop the problem before it gets too bad to be fixed. Maybe it’s attitude, maybe it’s not caring for training, you’re there with dead eyes and mean words to put them back in their place. They like to self-sabotage, not a good thing to do when you’re going into the Hunger Games.

On one hand, you’re thankful for the morning line odds, because it gets the betters a sense of direction of which tributes they should sponsor and keep an eye on. But sometimes it seems futile when the sponsors will do whatever they want, or go for the more obvious and favorable tributes--cough cough, Districts One and Two. You can never go wrong betting on the districts that practically get a winner every year.

“Haha.” Gloss says in regards to your age comment, “Where’s Finnick?”

You shrug, “Couldn’t find him at all this morning.”

It’s true, you searched the entire apartment three times before leaving. The living room, the kitchen, the balcony, your bedroom, his bedroom, even in the hallway and stairwell. There wasn’t a single trace of Finnick anywhere, it didn’t even look like he spent the night in his room, but you definitely remember him going in there last night.

Whatever, you’re not all that upset. It’s the first day, and even if there’s a lot that happens on the first day, sponsorships aren’t one of them. The first day relies on the tributes to get used to their surroundings and figure things out for themselves. The second day is when mentors and sponsors begin to collaborate.

Doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t be down here anyway. It’s nice to make friends while you can. You’ll just have to talk to Finnick later about him helping you down here. The whole reason why you’ve called on him for help this year is because of the betting room. An extra pair of eyes, ears and hands helps out, it goes a long ass way. Two people mingling is better than one. You can pull more sponsors together.

You glance at Gloss, “Where’s Cashmere and the others?”

“Wade’s here,” Gloss turns, thumb jabbing in the direction. He’s got the spot perfectly right, you’re able to see that Wade is surrounded by Capitol people, all laughing and joking around, “Cashmere and Enobaria will be down here later. They’re sleeping in, I think.”

“Well, after last night…” you trail off with a small smile, and Gloss snorts.

It’s quiet between you two as you watch the time tick down. Thirty minutes left, the tributes are close or in the catacombs at this point. Judging by the small glimpse the gamemakers gave this year, you think that the arena’s going to be sunny. They’re probably dressed in regular clothing, stuff that won’t make the tributes too hot but won’t allow them to get cold easily.

Honestly, at this point, you’re tired of the build up.

“At least your tributes’ odds are doing well this year.”

“Tell me about it. But it came at a price, since yours fucked up during training.” you run a hand through your hair, getting annoyed when it falls back in your face.

“There’s always room for redemption.”

Redemption, what a pointless thing to bank on, “Right.”

You’d tell him it’s good to have hope, but when has hope ever helped you? It’s always a letdown. And out of all tributes that are about to enter the arena, the careers aren’t the ones that need hope. It’s everyone else.

More silence, you mindlessly watch the time tick down. Thirty minutes, twenty, fifteen, ten. Everyone starts getting antsy around five, you and Gloss stand behind the rows of chairs that begin to fill with citizens. Wade comes around and joins the two of you, talking about what he discovered during conversation.

He was going after their opinions on the tributes. And while they have sung good praise of their tributes, as usual, they also couldn’t stop bringing up Marsh in particular. There were constant comments on how they had wished that he would’ve gotten more time on stage. It was new to them, and they liked the new approach.

You figure that other mentors will start telling their tributes to follow in Marsh’s footsteps, and after that the comedy skit will be ruined and you’ll have to find something else that’ll catch attention. At this point, everything possible has been found and exploited until it got old.

Twenty seconds until it hits a minute, which is when they’ll raise the tributes. The games don’t officially start until that minute is over. The clock will flip, and then it’ll start from the bottom up. You clench your teeth, spinning your ring around your finger over and over. Annie and Marsh are in the tubes, submerged in darkness, you can feel it yourself, the stomach lurching and the dread and regret. It’s too late now, they have to fall through on what they’ve built so far.

They’ve got this. They’ve got this. They’ve got this.

The clock hits a minute and five seconds, you can begin to see the tops of tributes heads. You lean forward slightly, eyes searching for Annie and Marsh, and find them easily. They’re close together, maybe two tributes between them, which is good news. They can see each other and decide what they want to do. You hope they discussed some sort of plan at some point regarding how they want to start their games off.

The cornucopia this year is silver and placed in the middle of a field of flowers. The grass is tall too, but thin enough to see where the gamemakers have placed the goodies outside of the cornucopia this year. As the camera pans around the tributes, you’re able to catch glimpses of the arena.

A field of flowers, hills that seem to stretch forever and offer little to no protection. In the distance is… a village? Others must see it too, because whispers break out, predictions on which tributes will immediately run for it. It’s an obvious place to go, Annie and Marsh won’t head there first. They’ll go for a better place.

However, it’s not inevitable, it’ll probably be the first place where the careers will go to get as many people out as possible. For a quick and scary moment, you think that this will be a fast Hunger Games. Whatever happens, just let one of your tributes last until the end.

One last shot before the sixty seconds is over, and it feels like you’ve been stabbed in the heart.

The dam that they showed--the preview--they must’ve edited it or something with how they made it look so small and not at all threatening. You thought it was holding back a small river, especially with the stream of water that was coming from it. But this--this is not for a river. This is for a fucking lake.

“Oh my fucking god.” you lace your fingers, placing your hands on the back of your head.

“Wow.” Gloss utters, “Yeah that isn’t at all what they showed us.”

From what you can tell, the tributes are supposed to be far away from the dam, a couple miles at least. But it’s still big enough to see through the trees, and tall enough to block some of the sky. Actually, it reminds you of the cliffs in your games. The cliffs were a two day walk from the cornucopia, and yet you could see them over the tops of the trees.

No one in their right mind would head towards the dam, especially with the chance that it would break. It’s just not common sense, and Annie and Marsh have shown promise when it comes to thinking logically. Which means that they would have to head the other way… towards the village.

They’re fucked. Everyone in that arena is set up for failure. You give it a couple of days, maybe a week and a half at most. No one in their right mind is going to want to stay next to the dam, but on the other hand they won’t want to get killed. And you can hide near the dam at the beginning of the games, but eventually if you want to head towards the village and clear hills, people will see you coming from a mile away.

You clench your fists, gritting your teeth more as your nails dig into the skin on your palms.

Out of all the arena’s that you’ve seen, this is by far the worst. It’s a trap, there’s no choice but to fall victim to it.

“Well, there goes literally everything.” Wade lets out a laugh.

“The others should be down here.” Gloss says.

He’s referring to Enobaria, Cashmere and Finnick, and he’s completely right. They won’t know what’s happening or the situation until later. By then, it’ll be too late. The bloodbath always costs around seven to ten lives, and if they all scatter towards the village, you think at the end of the day, half the competition will be gone.

The countdown has reached five, you watch as Annie and Marsh prepare to run into the cornucopia. It isn’t a bad choice, they’re good fighters. As long as they don’t go too far in, maybe grab the supplies that are only a few feet away from the mouth, they’ll be golden. You hope they realize this.

The gong sounds.

It’s only been a couple of seconds, and a handful of tributes are already heading towards the village. Others dare to run towards the dam, but they’re all apprehensive and continue to steal longing looks at the cornucopia and beyond that. They’re not the focus of the cameras, though.

The bloodbath is horrible as usual. Annie and Marsh are next to each other, stealing things out of the grass, shoving them into an empty backpack. Sheets of plastic, bread, firestarters, rope, water jugs. You watch with furrowed eyebrows, trying to keep track of the careers and the deaths.

On the side of the screen is a list, one at a time names and districts appear. The girl from Six, the boy from Eight, the girl from Eleven, the boy from Twelve. Two minutes in and four are already dead. Annie and Marsh head towards the cornucopia quickly, a plan already in mind.

Marsh slips inside of the cornucopia, making your heartbeat in your ears, body filling with adrenaline. Stupid move, going inside traps you there. Not even in your games did you go inside all the way. He’s gone for ten seconds, twenty. Annie doesn’t appear to be worried at first, but it changes when a career sets their eyes on her.

The boy from One.

“Oh, here we go.” you cross one arm over your chest, the other covering your mouth.

Annie ditches the backpack, throwing it against the cornucopia to keep it clear of her path. Out of nowhere, she pulls out a knife, spinning it between her fingers to make sure that the boy knows she has it. Her body curls in forward, chin dropping downwards.

She would look threatening, as if she has a chance at winning this fight if it weren’t for the short blade that the boy has. He comes towards her, a smile hinting at the corners of his lips. He swings, she dodges easily and advances forward. Annie isn’t a runner, especially not when she has a plan.

This is life or death, Annie. This isn’t practice anymore. This is for real.

He swings again, she moves out of the way and comes closer, a little out of range. The boy is becoming frustrated, and his swings begin to cut close. Annie side steps, you can see the blade cut through her shirt, when the boy holds his blade up, you can see a glint of blood. Annie doesn’t even look phased.

Where the hell is Marsh? You look at the corner of the screen, reading over the new list of deaths. The boy from Eleven, the girl from Twelve, the girl from Ten. Seven dead, the bloodbath is practically over, Annie and Marsh need to get out of there now.

He swings again, cutting Annie’s upper left arm. She barely acknowledges it, when the gamemakers change camera angles, you can finally see her face. All those times you’ve watched her fight the other kids at the boarding school, she’d be able to sweep most of the kids with her eyes closed. On the days you and Anchor permitted actual harm, she became more serious about fighting.

Annie shifted in those moments. Her eyes dead, locking on the target in front of her. She always has a plan, always ready to move and bait the person in. She’ll tense in sticky situations, but always find her way out of it. She became unlikable when fighting others because of this. Always said that it was an unfair fight.

And she’s about to bring the boy from One down.

The boy swings one more time, Annie moves out of the way in time for him to miss. Not a second later, she’s launching towards him, the knife perfectly aimed for his stomach. He’s quick to try and slash at her, so she has to drop the knife in the grass and grab his wrist instead, falling on top of him.

Annie slams her knee into the boy's left wrist, and uses both of her hands to force the sword in the other hand, down towards his throat. His face turns an angry shade of red, eyebrows forced so close that there’s a deep crease between them. Annie’s face is determined, the kind and polite girl that you saw yesterday evening is nowhere to be seen.

It’s a struggle between them, Annie’s got a tight grip around his wrist, knuckles turning white. She grits her teeth, lip curling, lets up for a moment on the arm, only to go crashing back down. The boys’ locked arm breaks, and the sword slides through his throat. Red, thick blood comes out of his throat, painting his tan skin and the silver blade.

Annie lets out a sound, pulls out the sword, and slams it into his forehead. On the side of the screen, the boy from One appears. You let out a breath, watching as Annie gathers her things. It’s right on time for Marsh to come fighting out, the girl from One trying to stop him. His face is twisted like he’s in pain, but it’s just how he focuses too.

If they knock out District One, Gloss and Cashmere go home. It’s over, and all you have to worry about is the District Two tributes. For the first time in a very long time, District One won’t survive past the first day.

It doesn’t work out like that, Marsh sends a harsh kick to her leg and she crumples. He and Annie regroup, and the two of them take off running towards the dam, the backpack bouncing on Annie’s back, Marsh tightly holding onto his favorite weapon. Annie now has the short blade to use.

“Okay.” you breathe, because it could be worse.

The village is going to be a slaughter, so you don’t blame them for running towards the dam. They just need to find another place to stay soon, and hope that the careers don’t come towards them for revenge.

“Congrats.” Gloss has got a smile on his face, clapping a hand on your shoulder.

“Thanks, I guess. One more tribute and you get sent home.” you raise your eyebrows at him.

He rolls his eyes, “They’ll have to try really hard to get that to happen.”

“Anything is possible!” you cheer.

The bloodbath lasted about twenty minutes, even if it didn’t feel like it. The main career group has three left; two girls and one boy. Annie and Marsh are still very much alive, taking camp by the dam. The total bloodbath deaths is eight. Districts Eleven and Twelve are gone; Parry, Seeder and Haymitch are going home.

They’re nowhere to be seen, which you can’t really blame them for. Haymitch is the only victor in his district, and Parry won ten years ago so he replaced Chaff when it comes to mentoring. After a long streak of losing, you’re sure that you’d find yourself holed up in the apartment too. Why bother showing up in the betting room if you know your tributes won’t make it past the first day?

Although, District Eleven typically has their tributes last a while longer. But you guess it’s different this year since both of their tributes ran into the cornucopia on the assumption that they’d make it out alive. At this point, no tributes make it out alive unless they’re very good at fighting or they can slip between fingers.

You take a look at the betting board to see that the dead tributes are greyed out since they’re impossible to bet on. Everyone else who’s still alive have had their odds increase slightly. Now that the gamemakers have seen survival and fighting skills come alive, they can determine how the rest of the games are going to go much better.

The girl from One has increased to a 4-1, the other two careers stay the same. Annie has gone from an 8-1 to a 6-1, Marsh stays the same. Killing the career boy has done her good. Your two tributes will have sponsors around the corner in no time. You think that Finnick will be excited to hear this.

On screen, the careers gather what they need and air out of the cornucopia, heading towards the village, as predicted. For a second, there’s a disagreement, as the girl from One wants to head after Annie and Marsh to take care of them before they become a serious problem, but the other two vote against her, so she’s stuck going towards the village.

Annie and Marsh aren’t the only two who went towards the dam, there’s about three to four others who are there too. Still, the majority went straight for the village, which could very well be because it’ll give them cover from any of the elements, but you can’t imagine that there’s any sort of water source. The gamemakers like to keep the sources to a minimum and in one spot to make sure that the tributes come across each other on refills.

With the bloodbath being over, you can breathe. You, Gloss and Wade take a seat on a couch nearby, with you and Gloss being pressed against the arms, and Wade being sat in the middle. You’d say that it’s crowded, Gloss and Wade aren’t the smallest guys to exist, but there’s still enough breathing room between all of you.

You tap your fingers against the arm of the chair, watching as the cameras all split into groups. Annie and Marsh being one, still running into the woods to put as much distance between them and the cornucopia as possible. The second team of tributes being District Seven, as they’re working together this year, heading towards the left, away from the stream of water that Annie and Marsh are unintentionally going to come across.

The other two tributes by the dam are the girl from Eight and the boy from Five, scattered in their own special way, but not shown individually on screen. They’re not as important, it looks like the gamemakers are focusing on alliances at the moment. Next up are the careers, taking their time with making their way down and over the grassy hills. They’re digging through their backpacks and laughing about something.

There’s no alliance in the village at all. After a few more seconds of glimpses of the alliance tributes, it’s switched to individual. From what you’re able to see, the village is pretty big. At least six tributes are scattered inside of houses or making their way as deep inside as possible. As far as the forest goes, two people are wandering around. There’s only one tribute that you can’t decide where they are because of the way she’s cleverly placed herself.

The bloodbath canons begin to go off now, there’s a series of different reactions. Eight deaths in the bloodbath isn’t even that uncommon, the most you’ve probably seen before is twelve. Hell, in your games you think that there were nine total. Typically, the tributes have enough common sense to save themselves right off the bat.

“What do you think the dam’s about?” Gloss suddenly asks.

Your eyes slowly land on him to see that he’s waiting on you and Wade. Wade shrugs his shoulders, not knowing what to say. They don’t know? How can they not know? You thought that the dam was pretty straight forward. Maybe they weren’t standing in front of the tv close enough to see the cracks.

A part of you wants to tell them what your predictions are, but you bite your tongue and shrug too. In the past, mentors have been able to send secret messages to tributes. It happened in your games, it’s happened in others, and you’ve even sent a couple when it was direly needed. So telling them could backfire in your face.

Even if you’re friends with them, sometimes you can’t trust to give others certain information. It’s so risky, knowing that the other mentor can easily pass off the information. Especially during the initial week inside of the Capitol. The tributes are at your fingertips.

It’s why you resort to being mysterious most of the time. While your mentor friends have nothing to hide because they put their plans out in the open from the start—because you all know that it’s no secret that the careers are powerhouses. You rely on the element of surprise to get you through literally everything.

The mentors can’t tell their tributes what your opinion is if you don’t give one. They can’t tell them that you’re sure your tributes are absolutely deadly and pose one of the biggest threats in the arena this year. They have to rely on past experiences to make predictions, but even then, sometimes districts manage to pull surprises out of nowhere.

The clock hits the first hour mark, by then the careers have made it to the village. Already beginning to weave their way in and out of houses. They’re not exactly quiet, so if a tribute hears them coming, they’ll easily be able to hide before the career gets to them.

Well, that’s what you think. However, every time a tribute is shown individually, you see that there’s nothing to hide behind. There’s no doors, and if there are, they’re broken or falling apart from years with no use. It’s like a terrifying game of hide and seek, but there’s hardly hiding. It’s a game of skill and luck now.

Luck that you won’t get found or your house won’t get chosen. That the career will come just close enough but turn their back at the last second when they decide that a place is clear. But it’s skill, testing the careers senses. Seeing if they properly know how to clear an area completely of tributes.

Just like how luck wasn’t on the side of these tributes when their names got chosen, it’s not on their side when it comes to hiding in plain sight, either. One by one, they’re all found.

The first one is the girl from Five, pressed tightly against the wall, holding her breath with tears slowly coming to her eyes. You can practically hear her chanting in her head, “Please don’t find me, please don’t fine me—“

The girl from One rounds the corner, without a single hesitation, she shoves the sword through the other girls’ stomach before the girl can defend herself. The sword pins the girl to the wall, blood spilling out of her stomach. Five has her mouth open in shock, eyes locked on the weapon, fingers fumbling to touch it.

One looks pleased, a smile creeping onto her face. For a moment, you can see Cashmere in her. The blonde hair, the green eyes, they all look the same in District One. All the same form of deadly, and they pull sponsors without even having to try because of their good looks. But everything comes at a price, and Cashmere was no exception.

Five doesn’t have a chance to plead, One pulls out her knife and finishes the job. A canon goes off, another teenager greyed out on the betting board. Nine dead. A sick feeling in your stomach tells you that this is going to be another bloodbath.

The boys work together, taking out the bigger houses since the girl wanted to go it alone. They’ll clear one, making sure to make it known, but stick inside of the house for a second to wait to see if they can hear movement. When they’re absolutely sure there’s none, they move on.

This plan doesn’t work initially, they get passed at least three houses before they hear a noise. Had the boy just waited a couple of seconds more, they wouldn’t have been able to hear his footsteps as he creeped down the loud stairs, giving away his position.

With the Ten boy dead, the District Ten mentors are going home. Which you’re sure is a bummer for them, knowing that they’ve been doing pretty good lately when it comes to victors. They’ve had two in the past ten years, which is a good improvement from the gap that they had before.

In the next house that the boys come across is a girl, the gamemakers give no indication on district. And you’re not sure that it matters because she’s dead within the first minute they search the house. The hiding spot wasn’t that bad, but when there’s two searching, more spots are bound to be discovered.

District Three girl gets greyed out on the board. There’s three people still hiding inside of the village, the boys from Nine, Three and Six. All in different places, and the only one that seems to be the furthest is Six, and you can take a pretty big guess as to why.

His district is power. They’re the main producer for it for everyone, and it wouldn’t be possible if it weren’t for the gigantic dam that they have. It’s hydroelectricity, the water passes through the dam, turns some gears and it fuels the Capitol and a portion of the other districts. It makes sense that he would be the one that would try and get away as far as possible.

It means that he knows something that the rest of them don’t. However, you have that much figured out. The dam is the danger here, but he must know the mechanics behind it. Why it’s going to fall apart, what event can set it off, how far it’s going to reach when it does. He’s so far away from the dam at this point, miles away from the cornucopia, and he still keeps moving.

It just means that the blast radius of the dam is going to wipe out a large berth of things. Trees, potentially the cornucopia, definitely the houses in the village. And that’s to name a few. There’s no telling what can be uprooted with the force of the water. You’re just curious how anyone will survive it.

Another tribute gets found, it’s the boy from Nine. The careers have regrouped now, all in different forms of bloody. You grit your teeth and try not to gag, remembering the smell of blood, and the feeling of the thickness on your skin. It’s not a pretty feeling, and you can’t shake it, not even all these years later.

The careers agree to stop looking for tributes and start for water instead. Which is a good sign for the two tributes left in the village--potentially three. But as for everyone else in the trees, it’s not as good. You’re sure that Annie and Marsh are far away enough from the stream of water that’s coming out of the dam at the moment, but there’s no way to tell.

Actually, it probably doesn’t even matter that they’re far away from the stream of water, considering that no one knows that it actually exists, except for the mentors. Unless someone went and opened their mouth and gave it away, which you wouldn’t be surprised about. You’re all a bunch of cheats and liars, at this point. There’s no use denying it.

The careers don’t even start to head towards the dam anyway, so that eliminates most of the worry. With the interest in them gone, it’s back to the remaining tributes inside of the arena. It’s been nearly three hours and already half of the competition is gone. When you said that it wouldn’t last more than a week and a half, you weren’t thinking that it would be because of this. You thought it would be the dam.

Everyone loves a good plot twist though, right? Right?

You get up from the couch to stretch your legs, figuring that the worst of the first day is over. It’s one in the afternoon, Annie and Marsh can clearly take care of themselves when it comes to fighting off other tributes. Their main worry at the moment is probably finding water and setting up camp somewhere.

If they were to just head right, towards the stream, they should come upon that shack uphill. It’s risky, staying that close to the dam but they don’t really have much of a choice unless they want to stay the night out in the open. At least with a shack they have shelter and they’re hidden. If someone comes upon it, they’ll have the upper hand.

“Alright, I think I might go back to the Four apartment to eat lunch. Don’t know if I’ll be down here later.” you say, looking at Wade and Gloss.

“And narrowly miss your two best friends?” Gloss asks.

“I have days to see them, I’m not really that worried. Plus, last night was enough to fuel me for the next decade. You’re lucky if I don’t start pretending I don’t know your four altogether.”

“Haha.” Gloss rolls his eyes, but gets to his feet.

He gives you a one-armed hug, you pat his back slightly. Wade isn’t much for physical contact in the first place, so he holds out his hand as a supplement. You slap it, looking at Gloss, “Sorry about your tribute.”

“He was a moron anyway.”

“I’ll see you later then--” you go to turn towards the door but find that you’re face to face with a Capitol woman, dressed in bright blue with accents of black. You have to take a step back so that you’re not breathing the same air as her, giving her a polite smile, “Hello.”

“Are you Annie’s mentor?” she asks.

Three hours in, and Annie’s already going to get a sponsor. It’s probably healing cream for the cuts she endured when fighting the One boy. You have to admit, if she’s completely healed, she’ll be able to move quicker and won’t have to worry about using medical stuff. The blades on the knives and swords are so sharp, especially when they haven’t been used before. Pick your toughest material and it could move through it like cloth.

Your eyes find Annie and Marsh on screen to see that they’re taking a break, going through the stuff in their backpack. Now would be a good time to do it before they get ahead of themselves. You give the Capitol woman a bigger smile, “Yes, are you interested in sponsoring?”

The whole process only takes a few minutes. You and her discuss what exactly she’s looking for, and what the ranges of the healing cream will have. It’s so extremely dirt cheap because it’s the beginning of the games, only three hours in. The longer the games go on, the more prices will be amped up. What could buy you an entire feast on the first day will only get you a loaf of bread later on, maybe not even that.

The woman lets you know that the main reason for deciding to go through with this is because of Annie’s manners on stage. That she can’t believe that Annie is only eighteen and acts like she’s been on this earth for much longer. You have to agree, Annie has her moments where she’s wiser than the rest of you. But it’s mainly because she’s been forced to grow up quicker, thanks to the boarding school.

When it comes to the note, you type in, “Right with you.”

It’s not the best when it comes to hinting at where to go, but you send it and watch it get approved. The first sponsor gift of the Seventieth Hunger Games, and it’s going to your tributes. One last time, you thank the woman and assure her that Annie is very grateful for her compassion.

Now you can’t leave just yet, and have to wait as it slowly comes down to them. You stand by Gloss and Wade, listening to the chiming of the gift. When it comes into earshot of Annie and Marsh, they immediately perk up, searching the trees.

“Found it!” Annie calls, pointing it out while getting to her feet. The cuts don’t even seem to phase her all that much, so it’s partially a waste of money but at least they’ll be able to use it later on if the need arises.

Annie catches the silver gift in her hands, rejoining Marsh as she pops it open. You didn’t really give them any instructions on how to apply it, they’ll have common sense not to use the whole tube, you think. They read over the words to themselves in their head first, before Annie is smiling fondly.

“That’s very sweet.” Annie says, “(Y/n)’s encouraging us as always.”

No, that’s not it. You’re not worried about the misinterpretation, especially not after the knowing look they give each other. Annie folds the paper and places it in her breast pocket, not even reading it out loud for everyone to know. It’s their own choice, and it’s probably a good one at any rate.

Annie has Marsh apply the cream while she tries not to look like she’s in too much pain. You know that it’s not easy having people dig their fingers in your wounds. Fuck, you might have initially blacked out after that bear mutt attack, but you were still half awake. Every single time they went a little too deep or were a little too harsh, you were jolted awake. You’re fairly surprised that you still remember it. It was almost like a fever dream.

Annie and Marsh take a couple more minutes relaxing, but the audio cuts on their part to give the District Seven tributes a chance at the spotlight. It doesn’t mean that you’re not able to see your tributes, though. You’re able to watch them motion and flesh out a plan. It’s good to see that they get along so well, makes for a strong alliance.

Annie motions about heading towards the wall, Marsh’s face begins to harden up. Annie changes to pointing, jabs her thumb in the direction of the cornucopia. Marsh says something, you think you make out the word ‘water’. Annie then holds her arm out to the right, taps the pocket on her chest, and then it seems like they have a plan. They pack up, and head towards the right.

And with that, you go to leave because it’s finally your window. But Cashmere and Enobaria come through the door, bearing a basket and big smiles, “Good afternoon! How’s our tributes doing?”

“Is that food?” you ask, Cashmere hands over the basket, and when you look inside, there’s cold cut sandwiches and flavored bubble water. It really looks like you won’t be leaving here anytime soon.

You all pick your regular back table, that’s perfectly out of earshot of other mentors and Capitol citizens, but you’re still able to see the line odds and the screen with the tributes. They lay out the food, you nibble on your sandwich while Cashmere and Enobaria ask questions and Gloss and Wade give up information.

“Bloodbath knocked out eight tributes.” Wade says, playing with the bubbly water cap, “Which includes Eleven and Twelve.”

“Figures, they’re not very good fighters anyway.” Enobaria says, “Didn’t Eleven have the seventeen year-old girl?”

“She only scored a six so it’s not like she was anything special.” Cashmere has her eyes on Gloss, slowly squinting at him, “What are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding anything.” Gloss makes a face and shrugs. There goes whatever cover he was trying to grasp at.

Cashmere stares at him for a second longer before turning around and looking at the line odds. It doesn’t take long to find, the boy is the first tribute on the left row. She doesn’t even have to look for it. The name is greyed out, of course, Cashmere turns back to Gloss.

“When did Colt die?” she asks.

“The bloodbath.” Gloss says, leaning his head against his hand now, “He went after Annie--(Y/n)’s tribute. He didn’t even stand a chance.”

Cashmere raises her eyebrows, and then looks at you, “Seriously? What happened?”

Conversation launches, you, Gloss and Wade do your best to tell them all the details. Starting from the bloodbath, who’s where in the arena, to the village. They’re not all that surprised to hear that their career pack got an additional four kills, the careers go hunting after the bloodbath to try and get as many as possible. But it’s a shock to know that half the tributes are gone.

After bloodbaths, careers get one--maybe two--kills. And it normally doesn’t happen immediately after the bloodbath, either. It’s sometime during the night because it’s easiest to spot the fires. Hardly ever is there a second slaughter immediately after the first. Because of this, you don’t think that they’re going to have a feast at the cornucopia this year. There won’t be enough tributes to make it worth it.

Annie and Marsh come across water, fill the jugs and put iodine to clean the water. They wander up a little further and find the shack. Just like that, they can call it a day since they’ve already got enough food to last them two days. All they have to do now is set up a plan to keep the food coming.

The careers come across basically a small clear pond. The last time you drank from a pond, you came down with Typhoid fever, really fun times. The Capitol was a bitch for making that dirty water clear to drink from, but the normally ideal water a fucking trick. You are so lucky that the Capitol had the medicine to make sure that the effects weren’t long-term. Otherwise, who knows what you’d be living with right now?

The betting room starts to clear out in the evening because it’s supper time for all of them. You stick around with the pack for a little while longer, remarking that you’re all surprised that Finnick didn’t show up at all, even with all the time he had. Once you’re sure that your tributes can survive the night, you’re bidding goodbyes.

It feels good to walk back to the apartment and to stretch your legs after going between sitting and standing. Sitting at the table already is Elysia, she looks happy to see you, “Welcome back.”

“Feels good to be back up here.” you laugh, tying your hair up, “Have you seen Finnick at all? He didn’t come by at all.”

Elysia shakes her head, “I went to get him for dinner and the rooms empty.”

“Huh,” you let out, sitting at the table.

It's odd, being here with only Elysia again. Makes your stomach churn slightly, actually. No tributes, no Finnick, only you in the betting room… Why do you have a feeling that this isn’t a coincidence?

You said that you’d give Finnick today. The first day isn’t the busiest, it’s the days that follow, when the heat starts to get turned up and the stakes rise. Then the tributes start getting hurt, requiring more to sustain whatever lifestyle they’ve built for themselves. It’s going to be impossible to go to the cornucopia to refill on goods when the entire thing is in a field. What are you going to do? Hide in the grass?

You and Elysia eat dinner, quietly chatting about what you think’s going to happen. In the end, it’s late and you should call it a night. But when you reach your room, hand on the doorknob, something tells you that you shouldn’t go to bed just yet. It’s a gut reaction, you look over towards Finnick’s room. It’s an invasion of privacy.

But there have been plenty of times before where Finnick has come into your space without permission, right? You sigh, kick off your shoes by your door, and then go into Finnick’s room. It’s dark and quiet and smells like perfumed fabric softener. You don’t bother with turning on the lights, Elysia already said that he wasn’t in here.

You make yourself at home, tossing a pillow onto the hammock and using it to support your head and not get your hair stuck in the rope. You stare and watch and wait for a while, playing today over in your head. You don’t think that there’s a single thing you would have done differently. Annie and Marsh were smart to run towards the dam, and Annie knocked out a whole career while she was at it.

However, they also proved that they were a couple to keep an eye on. The girl from One is smart enough to see it like that, to want to go ahead and go after them. On one hand, it’s a good thing that the boys didn’t listen to her. Your tributes are still alive, in a house for the night. But on the other hand, four other tributes died because of it.

But then again, it was only a matter of time. You saw all of their deaths coming, and so did every other mentor in that room. None of you could have known that on the other side of the dam would be a village. What use is it to warn your tributes if they’re just going to be fucked either way?

Oh hey, there’s going to be a cracked dam inside of the arena this year. If you can, I’d probably steer clear of it. The most it seems to provide is a steady stream of water, so at least you have that! Also, I wouldn’t worry much because the dam looked pretty damn small when I got to see it.

What use would that have done? It would have been a fucking culture shock, to think that you’d be ahead of the games for once. Like, “Okay, don’t head toward the dam, use it as a last resort. Worse comes to worse and you can maybe outrun the water.” until you’re face to face with a concrete wall that’s literally a mile taller than you, and the only place to go is a field out in the open and a village that provides the only shelter.

If there was any time to facepalm, it would be now. Hell, even your warning at agility training is going to do fucking nothing. You originally thought that it would come in hand to hop from rock to hill or tree root or something, but that’s going to be hard to do in the grassy field. Yes, let’s hop from grass blade to grass blade.

So fucking stupid, all of this.

You sit there fuming for a little while longer, shaking your head, rolling your eyes and gritting your teeth. You wonder if any of the other mentors have seens something like this before. Wait, that’s stupid. Of course there’s been an arena before this that has been the biggest April fool’s prank of all. Haymitch Abernathy had to live in a hell disguised as a paradise. Yes, you think that might be the worst arena you’ve ever seen. And he had forty-seven other tributes to worry about on top of the killer squirrels.

You snort, but it’s really not all that funny.

The room door opens, you squint just before the lights are flickered on. Finnick stands in the doorway, wearing a white button down shirt and nice black slacks. A part of you wonders where he’s been all night to need to dress as nicely as this. His… job… for the lack of a better word, doesn’t start until after dinner, usually.

And supposedly, he’s been gone all day!

Finnick doesn’t seem to see you at first. You grin to yourself like a child, “Boo.”

He jumps, a startled sound escaping him, it sounds like a yelp. He turns with wide eyes, staring at you. You laugh to yourself, “What the fuck? How long have you been here for?” he presses his hand against his chest, “Gonna give me fucking war flashbacks.”

“Been here since dinner, which was…” you trail off, looking at the time, “About four hours ago, apparently.”

“Don’t you have anything better to do? Like watch the arena?” Finnick slips off his shoes and socks, beginning to unbutton his shirt.

“I did that all day, I actually waited here to tell you that it’s your turn.”

His eyes land on you, “To what?”

“Watch the tributes, sit in the betting room until I relieve you.”

His face twists, “Nice choice of words.”

You roll your eyes, “You owe me this much. I’ll give you a quick rundown about what happened--”

“I already know.”

You throw the pillow at him, “Perfect! You can put your shirt back on and go downstairs!”

He looks at you, “(Y/n), I’m tired.”

“I’ve been up since eight this morning.” you give him a smile, “It’s now nearly midnight. I think you can sit in the betting room for a couple of hours.”

“A couple is two.” Finnick says, “You’re asking me to sit in there for ten.”

“Which is almost half of what I did today! It’s only fair!”

He stares at you. He doesn’t look tired on the outside. In fact, it looks like he just woke up a couple of hours ago. If he were tired, he’d be more sluggish, and you’d know because you’ve been around him for years now. And the last week has shown you what it’s like to actually interact with him when he’s had tough days and nights.

Today is neither of them for him.

“Okay.” Finnick agrees.

“Okay?” you raise your eyebrows, “Sweet. I’ll be up at seven and down there at eight to switch places, then.”

Finnick starts buttoning his shirt back, you give him a cheeky smile, getting off the hammock and heading towards the door. You’re about to leave, but then you stop and turn towards him.

“If I get down there tomorrow morning and you’re nowhere to be seen, you’re not going to like what happens.” there’s no smile, the words are dead cold. Finnick stares at you, fingers frozen in place, “I can promise you that. Goodnight.”

REDAMANCY IS PART 2 OF A TRILOGY //MASTERLIST//

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frostsinth · 4 years ago

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Deals with Demons - Pt. 3

Prologue | Part 1 | 2 | MasterList

CONTENT WARNING: 18+ Only. Heavy sexual themes and.. you know, actual sex. Viewer discretion is advised.

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I made my way to the private chambers of the Mother Superior which were set into the back caverns of the mountainside. I knew them to be the most decadent of all the rooms, and had already decided that would be the place to make my own personal quarters. Perhaps I would do some more remodeling. The thought of testing my powers again made me a little giddy. But then I found myself suddenly quite tired.

How long had it been, I wondered, since I had last slept? One day? Two? I couldn’t seem to remember. When I entered the chambers, I headed to the back where the hot springs bubbled up from the mountain’s core.

There were several pools in the cavern, and steam rose steadily from each into the air. My eyes followed the rising steam up to the pillars and archways carved into the rock face; painted and smoothed over the years into an intricate pattern that was beautifully interwoven with the natural stone walls and ceiling. I sighed, looking around, and saw a small pile of soft towels and soaps beside the largest central pool.

I walked to its edge, stripping the simple white dress as I did. Letting it fall to my feet and delicately stepping out of it. As soon as I did, it seemed to evaporate into dazzling sparks of light. I hardly gave it a second glance (it was the least strangest part of my day), slowly easing myself into the hot waters. At least, I imagined they were hot. Their temperature felt the same as the air I had just left, and even as the steam hissed about my body, I felt no difference.

I waded to the center of the pool, where the water level reached my shoulders, and paused there. Dozens of white candles had been left lit around the chambers, bathing it in a relaxing glow. There were even some flower petals floating on the water’s surface, lending a delicate fragrance to the room. I sighed, trying to relax, even going so far as to close my eyes.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

I jumped at the sound of the demon’s voice, spinning around sharply. I had not heard him enter the bathing room. But then, perhaps he had not walked. As he came forward, I felt my eyes slid over his huge body. Blood still ran down over his skin, dripping off him as he moved He was absolutely drenched in it, splashed with evidence of his carnage from his jaws down his chest even in rivulets running down his legs. I felt numbed by the sight of him, and when he grinned at me, even his white teeth were stained scarlet.

I turned my back to him without answering, wading to the opposite side of the pool. I heard the soft splash of broken water, then the sound of his body moving through it. I could even see the ripples bouncing towards me, the petals bobbing on the waves.

“...Do I frighten you, little lamb?” His voice sounded almost teasing, and its rasping quality sent a shiver down my spine.

But I spun back to him stubbornly. “Don’t call me that.”

The water around him boiled, his flames dwindled but still burning and simmering like hot coals, and he waded closer to me. I crossed my arms over myself, suddenly self-conscious and uncertain, and backed a little further away. He bent low, submerging himself in the water up to his mouth for a few steps, watching me with his four beady eyes. Like a strange, four eyed, umber colored crocodile. I saw the clear waters shift to a tint of red, rippling around him as he moved. He straightened back to his full height, and paced closer, reaching out to me.

“How did you know where I was?” I asked him softly, though unsurprised.

His smirk flicked across his lips. “We are connected, you and I.” He had reached me now, and his clawed fingers lightly skimmed over the mark on my chest. “I will always be able to find you.”

The water had rinsed off most of the blood, and just a few long trails streamed down his bare flesh now. I craned my neck back to look up at him, swallowing the dryness that had settled in my mouth.

“Do I frighten you?” He repeated, slipping his arm around my waist and bending over me.

My breath caught in my throat. “You are bound to me,” I said, glancing away, “You cannot hurt me.”

A deep rumbling ‘hmmm’ filled his chest, and he reached up with his free hand to push my damp hair out of my face, water dripping from his fingertips. He traced his hand down my jaw to cup my cheek in his palm. His thumb ran over my lips, and I almost quivered beneath his touch.

“That is not an answer. Perhaps the words of the Mothers resonated in you,” He mused, “Gave you reason to question our deal…. Perhaps you believe you saw your own future tonight.”

I considered that numbly. “...Did I?”

He snorted, leaning down and grazing his lips against my earlobe. “Perhaps. But I doubt it.”

Goosebumps scattered over my flesh at the sensation of his breath against my skin.

“You would not devour me? Given the chance?” I asked bitterly, squeezing my eyes shut as I felt his tail slip around my leg under the water.

He laughed now, and the water splashed about his huge body as he pressed in closer to me. “I will devour you every night, little lamb,” He mewled in my ear, his lips scraping against me as he spoke, “You are my next hundred thousand meals; I would not waste you for one.”

“Don’t call me that.” I said again, breathlessly.

He wrapped his arm farther around me. “What else can I call you?” He murmured against me, “You are a tender, succulent little creature. A lamb brought for slaughter now raised for show.” His tongue lapped at my jaw, and he grazed his teeth down my neck. “My own little mortal plaything. My sustenance for a thousand years, if I feed carefully.”

I put up my hands against his chest, pushing back slightly. He paused, then retracted obediently. Peering down at me with his beady black eyes. I couldn’t read the expression in their foreign depths, but imagined it might have been curiosity.

“I am not your sacrificial lamb, demon. I intended to be sent to you; it was my plan all along to make a deal with you, not something born of desperation.” My voice was still bitter, and I thought about pulling out of his clutches. But I lingered instead, leaving my hands on his chest. Staring at them numbly as I spoke. “I knew about your arrangement with the Mother Superior and all her other nasty little secrets. I am no pawn in your game,” I raised my eyes and met his gaze stubbornly, “I am a queen.”

He considered that, turning it over in his head. I dropped my gaze again, sighing heavily. Feeling frazzled and tired. After a few more moments, his hand came up to my face once more, his fingertips tracing my jaw, his claws rasping lightly against my flesh.

“All the more reason to savor you…” He murmured, beginning to curl in half to better reach my smaller form. Then his nose wrinkled, and he frowned slightly. “But I will not call you… Theodosia.” He practically spat the word. “It is a horrible name, really. I would despise it if I were you.”

I almost laughed at the absurdity of a demon disliking my name. But I shook my head, relenting. “Fine, but not lamb.”

He grinned again. “How about ‘pet’?” He chuckled at my answering scowl, running his thumb over my lips as he seemed to enjoy doing. “Very well, not ‘pet’ either. Then … ‘My Queen’; if that pleases you.”

I looked back up at him, and found his gaze burning hot. I nodded breathlessly, captured in the dark abysses of his eyes. His tongue snaked out, and he licked his lips.

“Do I frighten you then?” He asked again.

I fell silent, thinking. Trying to sort my own emotions out from the jumble of all the strange new things assaulting me. I looked at him, taking in his great horned head. His sharp, pointed teeth in his face splitting maw. The flickering flames and four beady black eyes. I watched his eyes narrow as I studied him. My own eyes traced down his thick neck, over his huge, knotted shoulders and muscular chest. His clawed hand slowly curled around me as I decided, and I felt my heart skip a beat in answer to his question.

“... A little.” I admitted finally, my voice soft.

His hand traced up my back, drawing small circles with his nails and sending a shiver down my spine. His tongue reached out and licked at my neck and he started to bend over me again.

“That is wise,” He purred against me, nosing my cheek, “You would be a fool not to be,” I felt his grin against my neck as he moved, “And you are no fool.”

I grumbled a little indignantly, squirming under his touch. Uncomfortable with how easily he switched between talking and touching. Or often times simply blended the two together. It was disconcerting. He straightened a little, leaning back to look at me.

“You did not tell me… did you enjoy yourself?” He rasped, studying my face.

I glanced at the blood still dripping down his skin. At his huge horns and smoldering flames. At his sharp, grinning teeth. Then I thought back to the faces of the Mothers, remembering their whimpering and their wails. Their desperation, their begging pleas. The corners of my mouth twitched.

“Yes… I did.”

“Good.” He purred, and then pushed my chin up with his thumb. “...I am hungry.”

My eyes widened slightly. “You did not find the Mother Superior… filling enough?”

“Pah!” He spat, scowling slightly. “A paltry meal; thin and stretched. Like licking watery butter from moldy bread.” His grin returned, and his tongue snaked back out. “Nothing compared to you… My Queen.��

“You have fed twice already,” I noted, drawing in a sharp breath as he skimmed his teeth over my throat again, “And it is you who said taking too much would-”

He interrupted me with a soft growl. His chest shook beneath my hands with the sound. I swallowed, and had to work hard to push down the vicious little voices in my head. Whispering doubts into my mind. Reminding me again that he was a demon. Replaying what the Mother had cried out to me in her last moments. I was powerful now, yes. But only so long as I let him do with me as he wished...

“You are at my beck and call,” His deep, rasping voice vibrated against my neck as he nipped at my flesh gently, tracing just the tip of his tongue along it. As if he had heard my thoughts. I shivered again at the sensation of his teasing lick, and felt his grin against my skin. “Is that not what you promised?”

“Yes...” I replied breathlessly.

Another soft ‘hmm’ that tickled my neck as it moved over his lips. I felt his tongue lap at me again, and I squeezed my eyes shut. Then his breath hit me heavily, whipping over my shoulders as he sighed, leaning back. I felt his tail uncurl from around my leg.

“However, if you are unwilling, it will not taste as good.”

I opened my eyes again, craning my neck to look up at him. A little surprised at his words. I must have looked it, for he gave me another wicked grin. Baring his sharp teeth and licking his own lips.

“This is my favorite way to feed,” He purred, “But there are other ways… And I am always hungry.” He shrugged his big shoulders. “I simply smelled your… interest, and thought I would be able to feed again.”

I felt my face flush, and turned to the side. I tried to laugh away his words, but it sounded weak and forced. Even to my own ears. I saw his grin returning out of the corner of my eye. I cleared my throat instead, turning around and reaching for some sand soap on a nearby tray.

“The only thing I’m really interested in right now is a nice bath and a soft bed.” I told him, hoping my voice sounded haughty and uninterested.

With my back to him, I reached out of the pool, grabbing the tray and sliding it closer to the edge. I jumped slightly when his hand covered mine, and felt his firm torso pressing against my back as he reached out as well.

“Allow me, My Queen.” He murmured in my ear.

I resisted the shiver his rasping voice elicited, withdrawing my hand and letting him bring back a palmful of the sand soap. Slowly, gently, he began massaging it into my shoulders. At first, I felt stiff under his touch. But then his big fingers kneaded at my back, into sore muscles I didn’t even know I had. My eyes fluttered, and I sighed. Each of his hands was easily as large as my shoulder blades, if not the whole of my back, and as strong as one would expect. I felt the knots slowly tugging loose, and, despite myself, began to relax.

I rested my bent arms on the edge of the pool and my head on top of them. The soft scent of the soap filled my nose as it mixed with the water and became a soft, bubbly foam around me. His hands moved down, gently but firmly rubbing the small of my back, then my bottom, then slowly working down the back of each thigh.

It felt…. Wonderful. I had never felt anything like it. With a final sigh, my eyes fluttered closed, and I relaxed against the wall. The soft rippling sound of the water moving as he did was the only thing that filled my ears, and it lulled me into an even deeper sense of calm. I heard the droplets falling off his hands as he raised them up, then felt his long fingers slowly begin to work at my hair. He even cupped water in one palm and poured it over my head, careful to keep it from spilling onto my face. His claws reached all the way down to my scalp, and I let a moan slip out for the pleasure of it.

“Careful,” He chuckled softly, “Any more sounds like that, and I’ll think you’ve changed your mind about feeding me again.”

I couldn’t help but smile at his teasing, so lost in the bliss of his hands massaging my scalp. He slid them back down to my neck, kneading his thumbs firmly along my spine.

“Gods, that feels… amazing…” I breathed.

Another rumbling chuckle. “I am a demon of many talents,” His thumbs pressed deep into my flesh, and I almost moaned again, “But pleasuring a mortal is my specialty. And there are a great many roads to pleasure.”

I sighed again, and couldn’t argue. He certainly knew his way around the body. I wondered briefly if other demons had different specialties. And what would have happened had another such demon been the one in the interdimensional pocket instead.

“Tell me, My Queen,” He said after a few more minutes of silently massaging me, “What else do you desire?”

I opened my eyes, staring off towards the slowly dwindling candles a few feet away. I watched their flames flicker and twitch.

“Power.” I replied finally, “I desire all the power, wealth, and fame I can take. I want everyone to know my name, and to despair at the sound of it.”

His hands on my shoulders tightened, and I thought I heard his breath hitch slightly. I turned, peeking at him out of the corner of my eye. His beady eyes met mine, and his lips twitched with delight.

“Whatever did this poor world do to deserve you?” He mused, easing his hands down my sides.

I snorted. “It decided that the weak would be punished, while only the strong would thrive. And I intend to be the strongest.”

“I can help with that.”

The smirk that slid across my lips felt very familiar. “I intend to hold you to your words.”

“Perhaps I can hold something to you as well…” He murmured, leaning close to speak the soft, rasping words into my ear. I considered him out of the corner of my eye again, feeling my stomach twist at his words. “May I work on your front now?”

I felt his hands on my waist, his thumbs lightly rubbing at my spine, his fingers digging into my abdomen. I hesitated for a moment, swallowing the heat that rose in me. After a few quiet moments that seemed to drag in the silence between us, I nodded my consent.

I gasped slightly as he pressed himself against me, half pinning me against the edge of the pool as his hands slid over my front, massaging my upper legs. Sliding teasingly close to the slit at the top, but never coming quite close enough to touch. His strong, roving fingers began to work their way up my torso, massaging my abdomen. He scooped his arms under mine, tucking his elbows against my body as he moved his hands up to my breasts. He rubbed and worked at my skin, kneading out not only any soreness, but also a soft sigh from my lips. Gods, it felt good. Sensual, of course, but also strangely relaxing.

Gently, he pulled me off the rock, prompting me to lean back against him. He curled over me, and his chin rested on the nape of my neck. Sending fresh shivers down my now loosened spine. I reached behind me, catching one hand on the back of his head. His own hands continued to work on my torso, sliding up and down my collarbones, kneading at my breasts and sternum, working at the flesh of my abdomen. It was similar to his back massage, but felt more feverish. Faster paced and overwhelming in sensation. On one particular pass of his hands up towards my neck, I lolled my head back. Resting it back against his chest with my throat bared towards the cavernous ceiling.

His head turned, and I felt his breath on my exposed neck. I trembled at the sensation of it passing over my damp skin. The water splashed and rippled as he moved, and I felt his hands working their way down. Rubbing and massaging my legs. Teasing them slightly apart. I felt my pulse quicken.

I heard him draw in a slow, deep breath through his nose. He let it out through his mouth against my skin, and my eyes fluttered.

“You smell… divine, my Queen,” he crooned, his lips nearly touching my skin, “... I would coax more from you, if you are willing.”

My breath hitched in my throat at the next pass of his hands over my thighs. “I… I am confused…”

“What confuses you?” He murmured softly, rubbing his hand against my inner thigh.

I blinked a few times, trying to gather coherent thoughts. “I… I thought if you fed too much...“ I gasped quietly as he pinched gently at one nipple, “Oh Gods, and I thought… I thought I didn’t want…”

“I would never press you if you did not,” He breathed against my neck, and I quivered as he traced a thin line up my throat with the tip of his tongue. “You have the power to set our pace. But if your mind has changed....” His lips pressed against my skin now, and I sighed again. “I am willing to adapt… And I do not need to feed to bring you pleasure.”

His thick fingers massaged my upper thigh, and I felt my legs slacken at his touch. My knees felt weak, and my eyelids fluttered again. His other hand played with my nipples, teasing and pinching them beneath the water in a way that had my thoughts swirling.

“May I show you another talent of mine?” He asked, his lips raking across my flesh as he spoke.

I looked at him sidelong, and found his glimmering black eyes waiting. Filled with a mischievous hunger. I swallowed, resting my free hand on top of his which still massaged my breast. He paused his movement, allowing my head to clear for a moment. I took a slow, steadying breath. I could end this now; could rinse off and simply go to bed. He was giving me that option.

But I wasn’t ready for it to end.

I nodded breathlessly. His grin returned, splitting his lips over his sharp teeth. He licked at my ear.

“Use your words, My Queen,” He crooned against it, sending another wave of shivers down my spine.

“...Yes,” I said when I found the air in my lungs once more.

“Yes what?”

My hand fluttered on top of his, and I swallowed heavily again. “... Show me.”

There was a splash as he caught his hands beneath me and pulled me out of the water. The waves lapped at the sides, splashing hot water out against the cool stones. It hissed as it hit the rock, but I hardly noticed. All I was aware of was Abhilash lifting me out of the pool and planting me at its side. He wrapped his huge hands around my hips and slid me forward until I was sitting right on the edge.

“What-”

I didn’t have time to finish my question as he pushed my legs apart and hooked his arms around my legs. I almost shouted in surprise as he plunged between them, burying his face against my folds. I had to stifle another gasp as his tongue lapped out, licking at me, teasing apart my skin and flicking at the most sensitive parts.

I was quickly washed from all sense as he flattened his tongue against me, licking and lapping. My knees quivered around his ears, draped over his shoulders, and his hands slowly massaged my ass as he worked at me. I had never felt such a sensation before; his tongue was wet and firm and writhed against me like a snake. His breath sent goosebumps shooting across my entire body, and a shudder through my lower half. Within just a few short minutes, I felt as if my bones had melted away.

I managed to look down at him, buried between my thighs, and found his smaller set of eyes looking up at me. When our eyes met, I saw the corners of his mouth twist up, and felt his tongue twist and flick at me in punctuation of the connection.

Suddenly, he plunged it into me, pushing that delightfully firm, writhing muscle deep inside my body. I gasped and grabbed at his huge horns to steady myself. I could feel the slight movements of his great head through my hands as he continued to press into me. Another deep thrust of his long tongue had me moaning softly, and I felt his hands tighten eagerly around me. Pulling me closer. Working himself deeper. His pointed teeth rubbed against my outside folds carefully while his tongue rolled and curled and twisted. He pulled it in and out, and a sound like a dog lapping water filled my ears alongside the drum of my racing pulse.

I felt a great heat boiling up inside myself, and was struggling to make myself breathe. I felt his lips close, sucking at mine, and my whole body began to quiver. I couldn’t keep myself upright, but couldn’t seem to figure which way was up and which way was down in order to lie back.

Then my body spasmed, and I let out another moan mixed with a needy sigh. I felt a throbbing, and a short burst of flooding release between my legs. Teasing, and far from satisfying. I instantly wanted more. Wanted to feel it again, reach that edge he had brought me to and linger there for as long as I could stand.

He chuckled against me, and the vibration of his amusement felt good against my lower lips. He kissed them, then licked them again carefully, leaning back. I swayed, my whole body feeling like a boneless pile of goo.

The demon straightened quickly, lopping an arm behind my back, steadying me. My eyes rolled about for a moment, and I managed to fix them on his face. His grin was back, and he licked his lips.

“You taste good,” He informed me, “In every way I have yet tried.”

I blinked at him, and wanted to say something snarky. But found that my mouth was not ready to obey my thoughts yet. Slowly, he climbed up the side of the pool, curling his body over mine. Easing me to lay with my back against the stone floor. The water dripped off his body and onto mine. Trailing lines down my sensitive flesh.

“Let me take you to your bed, my Queen. You must be tired.”

I reached up, catching the back of his head in my hand as he began to pull away. He paused, then grinned wickedly, wrapping his fingers around my forearm gently to still my groping hand.

“I want more.” I managed to breathe out, and found that I was panting.

His black eyes flashed with eagerness, and his smile grew by a few molars. “Is that so?” Slowly, he leaned back down, and I felt my insides somersault. “Then shall I take you here?” he crooned, his deep, rasping voice sending another shiver of delight down my spine. “Your back against the stone? Your legs pinned against you?”

“You’ve done it before,” I replied, my voice tight.

I felt my cheeks flush with the thoughts that raced through my mind, but I couldn’t help it. The warmth spreading through me, the sensations he had brought to the surface? They were already starting to fade. And I didn’t want them to fade. I clung to them greedily, feeling like I would never be satisfied. Could never have enough.

His tongue flicked my ear, and he traced his way across my skin to my lips. I pressed up against him, almost begging him to respond. He kissed me deeply, moving his lips in sync with mine. Then he nipped at my lower lip, just hard enough to bring a speck of blood, and I gasped softly. Withdrawing.

Slowly, he drew back, peering down at me. “You are hungry, little lamb,” He hissed, and his raspy, smoky voice had grown huskier, “You are hungry... like me.”

“Then feed me,” I growled back, grabbing at him again.

He leaned back down, then traced his tongue over the cut on my mouth. He smacked his lips together, savoring the taste. Dodging my pursuit with a mischievous smirk. Then he tucked his arm under my legs, and the other behind my shoulders. Scooping me up into his firm chest.

“I will feed you,” He purred, licking and kissing at my neck and cheek. “I will feed you until you are so full you can not move. Until all you can do is sleep and dream of my cock inside you. I will feed you until you give in to all of your desires and tell me all of your darkest secrets. I will feed you until we are bonded as one, with nothing else between us but our own skins.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, and managed to find the strength to pull myself up and kiss him again. Burying my hands in his flaming hair. I felt his lower hand grip my ass while his other began to massage my shoulders again. I could taste his grin, and bit his lip in turn. His laugh bubbled into my mouth from his, and I felt it quake in his chest pressed against mine.

“Promises promises.” I quipped quietly against his lips.

I didn’t realize we were moving. Didn’t realize he had carried me through the back doors towards the largest private rooms. He shouldered open a door and carried me in, his smaller eyes navigating while his larger main eyes greedily took me in. Memorizing every inch. I kissed him again, and again, feverish with desire. Knots rolling over in my chest for want of him.

He dropped me onto the bed, and I bounced there briefly with my eyes widened in surprise. Another mischievous grin was shot my way before he crawled after me onto the huge bed, his tail whipping back and forth behind him. I couldn’t keep myself from returning his heated smile, my eyes flickering to his lips, then back up to hold his gaze. I scooted backwards, teasing myself just out of his reach each time, until my head found the pillows and I dropped back.

He followed me, his long tongue lapping out ahead of him to taste my damp flesh. He buried his face in my neck, teasing and nipping at the soft skin there. I let out my breath in a rush, wrapping my arms about him. Or at least, starting to.

Before I could fully attach myself to him, he flipped me over, pressing my stomach into the soft sheets. His hand scooped up my hips, placing me ready on my knees as he nudged my legs apart. I felt a large, firm muscle rub against my lips, and gasped. Burying my face in the pillows.

“No no, little lamb,” He purred, catching my hair in a clump in his hand and pulling my head back. “I want to hear you sing for me.”

I groaned as he rubbed against me more, his free hand massaging my bottom and hips. I could hardly breathe, and quivered for want of him. I glared at him out of the corner of my eye, scowling slightly.

He chuckled, grinding against me slowly, his black eyes glistening. “Patience,” He crooned, “All good things to those who wait.”

The demon bent down, kissing between my shoulder-blades. Then worked his lips slowly up my spine, nipping at my soft flesh every few inches. I shook beneath him, and reached one hand between my legs to take hold of his cock still rubbing there. He moaned softly into my back, rocking back and forth against me. The sensation made my lower lips feel like they were on fire, and I felt the sharp ache of desire growing inside me. I panted, stroking at the head of his penis with my thumb. Gods it was huge, and thick. It was a wonder I had managed to fit it inside me at all.

With a final teasing thrust, he pulled back, out of my hand. I would have objected, but then I felt him press his head against me, and I gasped instead. He wrapped his huge arm around my hips, steadying me as slowly, slowly, he pushed inside. Inch by inch. Stretching each raw nerve. I moaned, my eyes rolling back as he buried it all the way to the bottom of his shaft.

His first thrust was equally slow, and I almost kicked him in frustration. But with each following thrust, he began to pick up speed. Careful to push as deep inside of me as he could with each buck of his hips. He released my hair, placing his his hand on the bed to give himself better leverage as his muscular abdomen and thighs flexed with each rut against me. His other hand braced my hips for his assault.

Soon, he was pounding into me so hard that the bed around us shook. I nearly cried out, but bit back the sound at the last moment. He snarled, biting into my shoulder.

“Don’t hold back,” He growled against me, bucking harder to emphasize his point before returning to his previous rhythm, “Let me hear your voice.”

I shook my head, and he bit me again, sinking his teeth a little deeper. There was no pain, but I felt the blood drizzling slowly down my back and over my shoulder. I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut. Panting as the pressure and heat within me grew.

The bed beneath us cracked and groaned too, and was the only sound other than that of our hips smacking together. I felt tortured; burning up inside, twisting and convulsing. But it wasn’t enough! Something was missing. Some part of the euphoria I had felt only once before in my life. No, twice. My mind couldn’t quite put it together; my body’s blood and resources had been diverted for an entirely different purpose at the moment.

It hit me suddenly, and I moaned louder, fueling his eagerness as he bucked hard against me. The force nearly bent me in half, and shoved me up against the headboard.

“Feed on me!” I gasped loudly, every part of me clenching up.

The demon seemed surprised, his thrusts slowing momentarily. I rolled my head back, looking at him hungrily over my shoulder.

“Feed!” I demanded again.

He didn’t hesitate this time, shoving my legs up into my chest and deftly flipping me onto my back. If he had to extract himself momentarily for the movement, I didn’t notice. He was quickly back inside me again if he had. Thrusting and grinding. Pressing me hard and deep into the bed. One big hand came up, grabbing at my shoulder, and he bent down.

It hit me in a wave, and my eyes rolled back. My world spun, and everything seemed to go black. Then I was there again, in that same space of weightless bliss. Floating beyond everything. There was nothing; nothing but the intense, invigorating heat that enveloped me from head to toe. Not that I could tell where my head or toes were. And I saw nothing but blackness from my eyes, heard nothing but the racing beat of my own heart. I was blissfully numb, beautifully whole and spinning through a peaceful void. The sensation was addictive.

I sensed that vein of power again. Same as I had the first time. I reached out for it, grabbing at it and filling myself up. I grabbed more. And more. Greedily pulling it into myself. Letting it fill me with the euphoria I had been craving.

Then there was that other familiar thing. A presence. This time I recognized it faster, and tried to pull my thoughts together to really address it. Perhaps I should have been scared; in this strange, disembodied state, I was raw and vulnerable. But I turned to it, studying it with whatever capacity was allowed here. I felt a flicker, then a thought that was not my own. It surprised me, and I moved closer. Felt our essences meld, and a strange emotion I couldn’t name. Sensed thoughts that weren’t mine.

Everything began to recede back, and I felt myself sinking back into my body. Limp, and quite content...

...

UPDATE: Part Four HERE

#monster x human #demon #demon boyfriend #demon lover #monster boyfriend #monster lover #exophilia #terato #dnd #lovers #romance #evil couple #slow burn #dark romance #Deals with Demons #update #oc

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fragmentedink-archived · 4 years ago

Text

Hell to Pay: Chapter Fifty-One

I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVI, IX, IX, XX, XXI, XXII, XXIII, XIV, XV, XVI, XVII, XVIII, XVIIII, XXX, XXXI, XXXII, XXXIII, XXXIV, XXXV, XXXVI, XXXVII, XXXVIII, XXXIX, XL, XLI, XLII, XLIII, XLIV, XLV, XLVI, XLVII, XLVIII, XLIX, XLX

cowritten by @lux-scriptum

A/N: Happy Holidays fuckers

A/N: also trigger warning for Nik's pos dad, and,,,,, nah i think that's it. Enjoy <3

Not a day after Lev was officially banished, Biela showed up. She was brisk, not even giving Lev the chance to acknowledge the two people she’d brought along. He was to be on house arrest, enforced by a spell that the witch she’d brought along would place on him. The fact that he was allowed up to fifty feet away from the house caught him by surprise; he’d fully expected to be confined to the inside. At least this way he could follow the kids in the pool or out into the yard, though Biela had made it clear he wasn’t to be outside alone.

She’d concluded this meeting by warning Lev that the house arrest would last until he proved he wasn’t a security risk. That meant Lev needed to learn how to defend himself, to Biela’s standards.

Lev understood. There was no third chance. If Lev got killed by a demon, it’d be detrimental to Cameron’s functioning. Not to mention Lev wasn’t sure how he’d handle being kidnapped by one. All of that aside he did want to know how to protect his children.

Biela had left with the witch when it was all done. The man she’d brought, who Lev learned was her brother Caius, stuck around long enough to exchange a few words with them, though Lev got the feeling it was more to get a good feel for who Lev was as a person than anything else.

Once all that was done and over with, Lev realized he still had a full day. Cameron had Eden, and Lev didn’t have the energy to fight him while Cameron reestablished his schedule. Instead, Lev ventured downstairs, something else on his mind.

He found Sazra in her room, like he’d expected. He knocked on the doorway when she didn’t look up right away, but having her silver eyes pinning him in place didn’t exactly put him at ease.

“Hi,” he said lamely, unsure of where to start.

“Can I help you?” she clipped out.

“I hope so,” Lev said, trying not to fidget. “I wanted to ask you about suppressants. I don’t know if demon suppressants will work for me, or if I need to get angelic suppressants, but-”

“And you’re asking me why?”

Lev blinked. “Because you’re a healer?” He said hesitantly. “I figured you out of everyone in the house would know about the way I’d react to demonic suppressants.”

Sazra lifted a brow. “Why would you think that when you think your healing is superior to mine?”

Oh. Lev fidgeted for a moment, before, “I’m not versed in medicine,” he started, and then hesitated. “If I’ve offended you...” He trailed off, looking for the right words. “It’s what I was taught,” he finally said, honestly. “And I never stopped to check my bias. I just parroted what I've been told for my entire life. I didn’t think about it at all.”

“I can see that. It’s rather arrogant of you.”

Lev didn’t think he’d ever been called arrogant before in his life. She wasn’t wrong though. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “It was.”

“Hm.” She thrummed her long nails against the wooden table, but didn’t offer any more words other than that.

Lev stared at her for a long time, unsure of what to say. In the end, he said simply, “Can I try to make amends? I was out of line.”

Her nails clicked on the table. “I’ll help you. Not because you apologized, but because Cameron is my boss and I owe him my life. Anything else?”

“No,” Lev said. “Thank you.” He paused halfway out the door, and turned back. “I haven’t had a heat in about a month and a half. If that helps anything?”

“I am aware. You can go now.”

Lev took that dismissal and slipped back upstairs.

---

After some searching, Lev found Nik in the back with Eden. He had her in the pool, in a cute black swimsuit with pink polka dots and ruffles. Eden was screaming happily as she splashed Nik. Lev padded to the edge of the pool, sitting down and dropping his feet in the water.

“Hi,” Lev said, smiling slightly.

Nik paddled over, dragging a giggling Eden with him. “I had to put sunscreen on her,” Nik said solemnly. “She probably burns faster than Cameron does.”

“Probably,” Lev agreed. He reached out, patting Nik’s hair. “Nik... do you want to talk about it? Any of it?”

“What part of dragging a screaming infant out to the pool suggests I want to talk about anything?”

Lev shrugged. “I thought I’d offer. We probably should eventually.”

Nik dunked under, though he kept Eden above the water. “Sure.”

“Are you okay?” Lev asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I have you, I have Eden, I have Cameron. Everything is going back to normal.”

“You’re pregnant, I’m exiled, and I told you I lost my pregnancy in the worst way possible.” Lev hesitated. “A lot has happened. And... it’s easier to worry about you than it is to deal with everything right now.”

“Well as you can see, I am the picture of health.”

“Physically, sure,” Lev agreed. “I don’t think anyone in this house is mentally healthy.”

“Hm. Well.” Nik moved Eden to his hip, not even blinking when she smacked his face. “Is that your professional opinion, Doctor Lev? I had not realized you had gotten a psychology degree in Ghost Land.”

“Nik, please,” Lev said softly, but he really didn’t have it in him to fight. In the end, he just gave a small sigh. “Fine. We can talk about it later.”

Nik went back to playing with Eden, so Lev splashed a foot lightly and watched Eden grabbing at the water. Lev would have been content to watch, but Nik grabbed his ankle. “Nik, don-”

Nik yanked Lev in the pool, clothes and all. After sputtering at Nik while Eden shrieked, first in surprise and then in delight, Lev glared at Nik. “I’m dressed.”

“Oh?” Nik said innocently.

Lev swatted his shoulder gently. “You could have let me go find a swimsuit. Now I’m soaked.”

Nik simply hummed. “Yeah... Oh well. Better luck next time.”

Lev huffed, and reached for Eden. “Give her over. I want a turn.”

“Mm. My baby,” Nik said, kissing Eden’s cheek. “Isn’t that right, baby?” Eden shrieked, grabbing at Nik’s hair. “See? All the ladies want me.”

Lev huffed, wading closer. He grabbed Nik’s sleeve when Nik tried to pull back, but was distracted by Cameron appearing.

“Phone,” Cameron said, looking annoyed.

Lev patted his pocket, and then held up the waterlogged device. “Nik pulled me in,” he offered apologetically. He set it down on the side of the pool. “I forgot I had it in my pocket.”

“I’ll get you a new one,” was all Cameron said. “Don’t do that again.”

“Tell Nik to not to pull me in,” Lev mumbled, before looking up at Cameron.

“I’m not his mother. You do it,” was all Cameron had to say before left.

“Yeah,” Nik parroted. “He’s not my mother.”

Lev splashed him and Eden both. Eden screeched, slapping the water herself. A laugh bubbled up, real and genuine. Lev turned away long enough to take off his sopping sweater and drop it beside the ruined phone.

This was worth it, he decided, dropping a kiss on Eden’s cheek. It was worth all of it.

---

Nik spent the next few hours getting a restless Eden under control and unconscious while also wandering around the house. Cameron seemed to be off in his study, doing Cameron Things and Lev was doing Lev Things. He was about to go see if he could bully Cameron into making stuffed peppers, when there was a knock at the doors. He was this close to ignoring it, and letting one of Cameron’s lackeys get it themselves, but he was closest to the door.

When he pulled the doors open, he felt his stomach drop. He had no idea why his father of all people decided to stand right in front of him, with that irritatingly neutral look on his face, especially in Demonic Territory. But he was. “Papi.”

Az’ril looked Nik up and down slowly enough Nik folded his arms over his chest, trying to hide his stomach out of sheer self-consciousness. Though it was completely useless and they both knew it. “You are pregnant.”

Nik felt heat rise in his face. “It’s Cameron’s,” he said, instantly.

“Hm.” He looked past Nik for only a second before saying, “Are you going to let me in?”

Nik took a wordless step back and to the side. There was no point in arguing, not when he was pregnant and he wasn’t going to risk the safety of either himself or his baby just when he decided he was going to keep the little leech who decided to continuously steal his food.

His father wasn’t even two steps in the house before both Cameron and Lev decided to come into the hallway from two separate directions.

Well that was just fantastic.

“Az’ril,” Cameron said, mildly. “To what do I owe this unannounced visit?”

Az’ril’s golden brown eyes flicked Cameron’s way. “I was not aware that I needed an invitation or to announce myself to visit my youngest.”

Cameron lifted a brow and stopped right behind Nik, close enough Nik could almost feel Cameron’s body heat. “How would you be aware when you do not ask? Or visit in the last year or so, but I digress.”

Lev stopped next to Nik and tried to take his hand. Nik only shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets and said nothing. Az’ril’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but completely dismissed Cameron and turned his full attention back to Nik. “Let’s speak. Alone.”

“Nik,” Lev said, quietly.

He could feel Cameron’s gaze on him, letting him take the lead on however Nik wanted to move forward. Nik only lifted a shoulder. “Yeah, sure. I think we can find a room.”

He shouldered past Lev, without so much as a glance, aware his father was right on his heel without needing to be told to follow. He found the nearest office space and went in, immediately going to open the windows when he heard the door click behind him.

“So,” Nik said, leaning against the wall, with his arms folded over himself once more. “You wanted to talk…?”

Az’ril made himself at home by sitting in the desk chair. He glanced around the orderly office, taking note of the very sharp, immaculate furniture. “He seems to have inherited a great deal from his former station,” Az’ril noted.

“Yeah,” Nik said. “I imagine being raped every day for five hundred years, a fancy house was the least they could give him. But what do I know.”

The vaguest look of distaste crossed his father’s features. “Your crassness is bound to lose its charm,” he said, leaning back. “Especially now that you are pregnant. Even if it is with a demon’s spawn, and an illegitimate one at that. That cute attitude isn’t going to get you far much more.”

“I’m sure my cute looks will make up for it,” Nik said.

“We’ll see.”

The tightness in his chest didn’t let up a single bit, if anything it just reached further into his throat, making it that much harder to keep an unruffled appearance. The razor sharp look in his father’s eyes suggested Az’ril was more than aware. And he was unimpressed.

“How does the demon feel about your pregnancy,” Az’ril said. “Doesn’t quite seem the paternal type. As far as I’m aware, demons tend to eat their young.”

Nik chewed on his lip piercing. “He’s fine with it.”

“Is he?”

“That’s what I said,” Nik said, not able to keep the irritability out of his voice. “If you’re wanting a birth announcement, I’ll be sure to ship you one in the post. Is there anything else you wanted?”

“Actually there is,” Az’ril said.

Nik waited expectantly, trying to not squirm under that golden look.

“I do not think your demon is equipt to adequately care for a pregnant angel,” he said. “And I do not wish for a disgraced outcast to be caring for my child.”

Nik blinked. “I- what? Then where, exactly, do you expect me to go?”

“Your rooms are being set up as we speak,” his father replied. “A nursery as well, as you’re obviously keeping the child. Even if it’s part demon, your status is of mine, and I will not be having it or you here any longer. It’s about time you stopped playing house and returned to where you belong.”

“...I belong with Cameron and Lev,” Nik said.

Az’ril stood fast enough that Nik’s spine straightened on sheer instinct. “You need to stop with these convoluted fantasies of yours,” His father said, sharply. “You will come home, even if I have to drag you by your ear to do so. It’s for your own good, Nikolas.”

“But- what about them?”

“They are not my concern.” He crossed the desk. “This is my own fault,” he said. “I gave you too much freedom and left you unchecked and now your inability to take responsibility for any of your actions has led you unmarried, unmated and pregnant. So now, you will be coming home, and you will be letting me take care of you. End of discussion. Are we clear.”

Nik’s eyes trained to the ground. “Yes sir.”

“Better. Now go get your things, because we need to be leaving.”

Nik pushed off the wall and left the office as fast as he could go without sprinting out of the room. He shoved open the bedroom doors and went for the closet. He stopped dead in his tracks outside of it, anxiety clawing at his throat, but he forced himself forward to get his shit so he could get out of here.

“What’s going on?” Nik heard Lev ask from the doorway.

Nik stopped dead in his tracks before resuming once again. “Going home,” was all Nik said, going to toss a few of his jackets onto Cameron’s bed.

“This is home.”

Nik chewed on his bracelet and went back into the closest for more clothes. “Yeah, and so is Tullum. Papi is insistent on me coming home so he can take care of me while I’m pregnant.” He tried to keep the irritability out of his voice. It wasn’t Lev’s fault that Nik’s omega decided to kick into self preservation mode now.

Horrible timing, really.

“He won’t take no for an answer,” Nik said, dropping the rest of his clothes on the bed. “So I’m going home.” He fixed a smile in place. “That’s what’s best for the baby, am I right? Got to get the special angel healers and- and it’s a family thing. I’m sure you wouldn’t get it.”

Lev stared at him for a moment. “You can’t go with him. It’s not what’s best for the baby and it’s not what’s best for you.”

“And you devised that in what, the five minutes of interaction with him?” Nik asked, sharply. “Family clearly does not mean the same thing to you as it does to me and mine. There are traditions and- and I just.” Nik exhaled sharply through his nose and muttered under his breath in spanish and went back to packing. There was no point. “I don’t have a choice and it’s not like you can stop him.”

“Nik,” Lev said softly. “I know people scare me all the time, but... not like him. Not like that.” He crossed the room, trying to take Nik’s hand as he said, “I won’t let him take you.”

Nik shoved his hands in his pockets. “Do you want to die again?” Nik demanded, voice cracking. “You seem to forget that I am the only one in my family without magic. My family deals and trades in death and he has the power to absolutely obliterate anyone. Especially someone with no ties or protections offered by angels anymore. You literally just defied the laws of nature. Don’t get between us and ruin it for nothing.”

Lev’s face was the fiercest he’s ever seen from him. “You’re mine, and I’m not going to let him take you from us.”

Nik bit into his lip so hard he could taste the honey sweetness of his blood. He didn’t have an argument for that, especially when Lev’s head was annoyingly big when he was being annoyingly protective. It clearly meant he couldn’t listen to reason or fact. His father was just… he was death.

He put his head on Lev’s shoulder, not saying another word.

Nik was snapped out of his trance the moment he heard the sharp order in spanish to hurry up. His head lifted and sure enough his father was standing in the doorway with his arms folded over his chest. “We need to get going.”

Lev looked at Az’ril. “He’s not going with you.”

Cameron appeared like a wraith in the doorway behind his father, eerily silent and perfectly unruffled as he sidestepped Az’ril as if he were little more than a stool in his way. “Nikolas can take his time,” he said, coolly. “As much of it as he wants.” His pale eyes slid towards Nik, looking for his stance.

Cameron was going to follow Nik’s play, no matter what he wanted for himself. He’d let them all make their decisions and damn themselves, but it would always be their decision. He’d have no part in shaping it.

When Nik looked down at the ground, Cameron then said, “Of course, if I wanted, I could keep him here. He’s pregnant with my child and as it would be my property, so is Nik.” The sheer, so very faint distaste in those words in Cameron’s tone didn’t go unnoticed by Nik. “I’m sure you, someone of such high political standing, would understand that.”

Nik didn’t dare say a fucking word, even as Lev positioned himself between Nik and Az’ril.

His father locked eyes with Cameron. Cameron was several centuries younger than his father, even if Cameron felt eons older in the icy, composed stance he was taking. “My son is not your property,” Az’ril bit out.

“By demonic law,” Cameron said, mildly, “he is. The moment you decided to send your son into spy on me and mine forfeited your right to Nik, and made him mine.” Cameron looked over at Nik and Lev, gaging the both of them with calculated stillness. “Come here.”

Nik was frozen in place for a split second before Lev gently took his arm and nudged him over to Cameron’s side. If Lev hadn’t made him move, Nik would have been torn between standing still and being at Cameron’s side in a split second with the sheer Alpha in his tone.

Cameron fixed his eyes on Nik, and then Nik’s throat. “Of course,” he said. “I am speaking in demonic terms, and not angelic terms. So let me be very clear about this.” A chill rippled down Nik’s spine when Cameron's very sharp teeth sunk into Nik’s throat.

Lev ushered out of Cameron’s way, but Nik could sense his eyes were still trained on Az’ril as Nik instantly went limp at the claiming bite being branded into his flesh. Cameron caught him easily before he collapsed onto the ground from the amount of hormones being flooded into his body.

Nik whimpered when Cameron’s teeth came out of his skin. He caught the golden sheen of blood still on Cameron’s pale lips before pushing his face into Cameron’s chest. Cameron’s arm held him firmly in place as Nik reached for Lev’s hand.

Lev took it but didn’t take his eyes off Az’ril.

Cameron didn’t blink at the way Az’ril’s eyes narrowed. Angels held mating bonds to one of the highest standards in their lands and Cameron knew it. “You know where the door is, yes? If not I’m sure someone can show you out.”

Nik didn’t dare look up from Cameron’s chest, but he heard his father retreat from the room, and hopefully the house. “I’m sorry,” Nik mumbled against Cameron’s chest.

Cameron tugged on his hair. “Quiet,” he said, not harshly. The order did mellow the anxiety curling in his chest.

Lev lightly bit Nik’s shoulder. “You’re staying with us,” Lev mumbled against his skin. “You belong with us.”

---

Breakfast the next morning was quiet. Though, admittedly, most of their breakfast lately were quiet. Nik couldn’t drink coffee and so it took even longer for him to wake up. Cameron rarely had much to say in the morning, and Lev was always tired nowadays so quiet it was.

However, this morning, Lev had something on his mind. “Cameron?” he asked. “I had a question.”

“Hm?”

“Can we start working on a nursery? I imagine it’ll take some work, and...” He shrugged.

Before Cameron responded, he walked out of the kitchen. Lev stared after him, and looked to Nik. Nik was still staring at his decaf coffee, face blank and definitely not awake. Cameron reappeared, book in hand. Lev lifted the cover as Cameron went back to fixing breakfast.

Inside the book was... plans. Color swatches and crib options and even a sketched layout or two. Lev traced a picture of a crib made of dark brown wood and with little sea stars carved into the headboard. “You already started planning without me?” he asked, trying to not sound petulant.

Cameron flicked a look in his direction. “You were sleeping.”

A low blow, but a fair one. Sleeping had been preferable to being awake. “Point,” Lev finally muttered. “Well can I help with the rest?”

“If you want.”

“I do,” Lev said, flipping back through the book carefully. He would have called it a scrapbook if it hadn’t been so brutally efficient. Besides. If he had, Lev had the feeling Cameron would have been offended. “I’m guessing an ocean theme?” he said, peering at the options Cameron had deemed acceptable for baby mobiles.

Cameron placed a plate of bacon down in front of him. “It seemed to fit Nik’s tastes.”

“This isn’t my coffee,” Nik suddenly complained, rubbing his face.

Lev looked over. “Looks like coffee to me?” He wrinkled his nose. “Gross.”

Nik frowned. “This isn’t. My coffee.” This time he sounded more irritable.

“You’re not supposed to have caffeine, if that’s the problem,” Lev said, taking a bite of bacon.

“Says who?”

Lev offered him a piece of bacon. “Ash, probably. But also every pregnancy health book I’ve ever read. And I’ve read a lot.”

Nik slammed his mug down. “Well Ash isn’t here, and you’re not my boss.” He pulled out his phone, muttering in Spanish. Lev only got another piece of bacon before Nik startled him by shoving the phone in his face. “See? I can.” He was practically yelling, mostly from excitement from what Lev could tell.

Indeed, Ash had typed out a terse, “1.” Period included.

“Somehow that feels coerced,” Lev mumbled, before pointing out, “You have to convince Cameron too.”

Cameron sipped his tea calmly. “No,” he said. “Sit down.”

Nik plopped down, defeated. He stared at the counter sadly. “You’re all monsters.”

“Well, four more months and you can have caffeine again,” Lev encouraged.

“This leech is taking everything from me,” Nik mumbled.

Lev reached over, brushing his hair from his face. “Soon,” he promised, kissing Nik’s cheek.

Nik wrinkled his nose. “So what were you talking about before you decided to ruin my life?”

Lev closed the book carefully. “Nursery plans. Which- Cameron, do you think Nate would come paint the walls for us? I bet he’d do something pretty.”

Cameron put a plate of eggs and fruit down in front of Nik. “I already called him. He’ll be here tomorrow to start working on it.”

Lev huffed. “You’ve already thought of everything, haven’t you?”

“It’s easy. You’re both predictable.”

“What the fuck is this?” Nik demanded. “You give Lev bacon, and I get rabbit food? I’m a growing boy. I deserve bacon.”

Lev decided not to comment on the fact that he’d offered Nik a piece and Nik had decided to bemoan his coffee instead. “Eggs aren’t rabbit food,” he pointed out instead.

Nik took Lev’s plate. “Well fine then, you eat it. I’m eating your bacon.”

“Hey!” Lev reached for his plate. “Nik! Give it back.”

Nik just put his hand in Lev’s face, but Cameron switched the plates anyway. Nik whined, and all he got in response was a baring of Cameron’s teeth. Despite that Lev put a single piece of bacon on Nik’s plate.

Before any more bickering could start, a knock sounded. Lev peered over his shoulder in time to see a sentry leading a short woman into the room. She was hauling bags with her, though she set them down when she set eyes on Nik.

Nik had been in the middle of grumbling as he picked at his food, but when he saw her, he dropped his fork. “Mami?”

Lev watched them, mystified. He’d never met Nik’s mother, but when he looked to Cameron, Cameron just shook his head subtly like he knew what Lev was thinking. That left Lev even more confused, but he just looked back to see her cupping Nik’s face and fussing at him in rapid Spanish. In Nik’s defense, he looked pleased.

“Hello,” Lev offered when she seemed done. “I’m Lev?”

“I’m Mami Coco.” She looked to Cameron. “You can call me Socorro. I’ll be sleeping in a room next to Nikolas.”

Lev could see the annoyance flickering in Cameron’s face, but Nik looked happy, dark brown eyes shining as he got a hug from Mami Coco. Somehow Lev doubted Cameron would be irritated enough at the disruption in his plans and schedule enough to upset Nik over this. Instead, Cameron filled a plate for her too, and said, “Sit.”

There was a certain look to her that promised much headbutting in the future, but she sat beside Nik with a simple, “Okay.”

Tagging: @incandescent-creativity @solangelo3088 @lil-miss-red @halstudies @littleyellowdinosaur @caelisis @idreamonpaper

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #wip boost #my writing #original writing #ch: cameron #ch: nik #ch: mami #hell to pay #cameron and nik and lev

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magnetictapedatastorage · 4 years ago

Link

I’ve started keeping a list of questions, remnants of a past life that I now need a beat or two to remember, if I can remember at all: What time do parties end? How tall is my boss? What does a bar smell like? Are babies heavy? Does my dentist have a mustache? On what street was the good sandwich place near work, the one that toasted its bread? How much does a movie popcorn cost? What do people talk about when they don’t have a global disaster to talk about all the time? You have to wear high heels the whole night? It’s more baffling than distressing, most of the time.

Full text of the (excellent) article is under the cut. (The Atlantic, March 8th, 2021)

I first became aware that I was losing my mind in late December. It was a Friday night, the start of my 40-somethingth pandemic weekend: Hours and hours with no work to distract me, and outside temperatures prohibitive of anything other than staying in. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how to fill the time. “What did I used to … do on weekends?” I asked my boyfriend, like a soap-opera amnesiac. He couldn’t really remember either.

Since then, I can’t stop noticing all the things I’m forgetting. Sometimes I grasp at a word or a name. Sometimes I walk into the kitchen and find myself bewildered as to why I am there. (At one point during the writing of this article, I absentmindedly cleaned my glasses with nail-polish remover.) Other times, the forgetting feels like someone is taking a chisel to the bedrock of my brain, prying everything loose. I’ve started keeping a list of questions, remnants of a past life that I now need a beat or two to remember, if I can remember at all: What time do parties end? How tall is my boss? What does a bar smell like? Are babies heavy? Does my dentist have a mustache? On what street was the good sandwich place near work, the one that toasted its bread? How much does a movie popcorn cost? What do people talk about when they don’t have a global disaster to talk about all the time? You have to wear high heels the whole night? It’s more baffling than distressing, most of the time.

RECOMMENDED READING

There’s No Real Reason to Eat 3 Meals a DayAMANDA MULL

The Pandemic’s Future Hangs in SuspenseTHE COVID TRACKING PROJECT

A Quite Possibly Wonderful SummerJAMES HAMBLIN

Everywhere I turn, the fog of forgetting has crept in. A friend of mine recently confessed that the morning routine he’d comfortably maintained for a decade—wake up before 7, shower, dress, get on the subway—now feels unimaginable on a literal level: He cannot put himself back there. Another has forgotten how to tie a tie. A co-worker isn’t sure her toddler remembers what it’s like to go shopping in a store. The comedian Kylie Brakeman made a joke video of herself attempting to recall pre-pandemic life, the mania flashing across her face: “You know what I miss, is, like, those night restaurants that served alcohol. What were those called?” she asks. “And there were those, like, big men outside who would check your credit card to make sure you were 41?”

Read: Sedentary pandemic life is bad for our happiness

Jen George, a community-college teacher from Cape Elizabeth, Maine, told me she is losing her train of thought in the middle of a sentence more and more often. Meanwhile, her third grader, who is attending in-person school, keeps leaving his books, papers, and lunch at home. Inny Ekeolu, a 19-year-old student from Ireland, says she has found herself forgetting how to do things she used to do on a regular basis: swiping her bus pass, paying for groceries. Recently she came across a photo of a close friend she hadn’t seen since lockdown and found that she couldn’t recognize her. “It wasn’t like I had forgotten her existence,” she told me. “But if I had bypassed her on the street, I wouldn’t have said hi.” Rachel Kowert, a research psychologist in Ottawa, used to have a standing Friday-night dinner with her neighbors—and went completely blank when one of them recently mentioned it. “It was really shocking,” Kowert told me. “This was something I really loved, and had done for a long time, and I had totally forgotten.”

This is the fog of late pandemic, and it is brutal. In the spring, we joked about the Before Times, but they were still within reach, easily accessible in our shorter-term memories. In the summer and fall, with restrictions loosening and temperatures rising, we were able to replicate some of what life used to be like, at least in an adulterated form: outdoor drinks, a day at the beach. But now, in the cold, dark, featureless middle of our pandemic winter, we can neither remember what life was like before nor imagine what it’ll be like after.

To some degree, this is a natural adaptation. The sunniest optimist would point out that all this forgetting is evidence of the resilience of our species. Humans forget a great deal of what happens to us, and we tend to do it pretty quickly—after the first 24 hours or so. “Our brains are very good at learning different things and forgetting the things that are not a priority,” Tina Franklin, a neuroscientist at Georgia Tech, told me. As the pandemic has taught us new habits and made old ones obsolete, our brains have essentially put actions like taking the bus and going to restaurants in deep storage, and placed social distancing and coughing into our elbows near the front of the closet. When our habits change back, presumably so will our recall.

That’s the good news. The pandemic is still too young to have yielded rigorous, peer-reviewed studies about its effects on cognitive function. But the brain scientists I spoke with told me they can extrapolate based on earlier work about trauma, boredom, stress, and inactivity, all of which do a host of very bad things to a mammal’s brain.

“We’re all walking around with some mild cognitive impairment,” said Mike Yassa, a neuroscientist at UC Irvine. “Based on everything we know about the brain, two of the things that are really good for it are physical activity and novelty. A thing that’s very bad for it is chronic and perpetual stress.” Living through a pandemic—even for those who are doing so in relative comfort—“is exposing people to microdoses of unpredictable stress all the time,” said Franklin, whose research has shown that stress changes the brain regions that control executive function, learning, and memory.

That stress doesn’t necessarily feel like a panic attack or a bender or a sleepless night, though of course it can. Sometimes it feels like nothing at all. “It’s like a heaviness, like you’re waking up to more of the same, and it’s never going to change,” George told me, when I asked what her pandemic anxiety felt like. “Like wading through something thicker than water. Maybe a tar pit.” She misses the sound of voices.

Prolonged boredom is, somewhat paradoxically, hugely stressful, Franklin said. Our brains hate it. “What’s very clear in the literature is that environmental enrichment—being outside of your home, bumping into people, commuting, all of these changes that we are collectively being deprived of—is very associated with synaptic plasticity,” the brain’s inherent ability to generate new connections and learn new things, she said. In the 1960s, the neuroscientist Marian Diamond conducted a series of experiments on rats in an attempt to understand how environment affects cognitive function. Time after time, the rats raised in “enriched” cages—ones with toys and playmates—performed better at mazes.

Ultimately, said Natasha Rajah, a psychology professor at McGill University, in Montreal, our winter of forgetting may be attributable to any number of overlapping factors. “There’s just so much going on: It could be the stress, it could be the grief, it could be the boredom, it could be depression,” she said. “It sounds pretty grim, doesn’t it?”

The share of Americans reporting symptoms of anxiety disorder, depressive disorder, or both roughly quadrupled from June 2019 to December 2020, according to a Census Bureau study released late last year. What’s more, we simply don’t know the long-term effects of collective, sustained grief. Longitudinal studies of survivors of Chernobyl, 9/11, and Hurricane Katrina show elevated rates of mental-health problems, in some cases lasting for more than a decade.

I have a job that allows me to work from home, an immune system and a set of neurotransmitters that tend to function pretty well, a support network, a savings account, decent Wi-Fi, plenty of hand sanitizer. I have experienced the pandemic from a position of obscene privilege, and on any given day I’d rank my mental health somewhere north of “fine.” And yet I feel like I have spent the past year being pushed through a pasta extruder. I wake up groggy and spend every day moving from the couch to the dining-room table to the bed and back. At some point night falls, and at some point after that I close work-related browser windows and open leisure-related ones. I miss my little rat friends, but I am usually too tired to call them.

Read: The most likely timeline for life to return to normal

Sometimes I imagine myself as a Sim, a diamond-shaped cursor hovering above my head as I go about my day. Tasks appear, and I do them. Mealtimes come, and I eat. Needs arise, and I meet them. I have a finite suite of moods, a limited number of possible activities, a set of strings being pulled from far offscreen. Everything is two-dimensional, fake, uncanny. My world is as big as my apartment, which is not very big at all.

“We’re trapped in our dollhouses,” said Kowert, the psychologist from Ottawa, who studies video games. “It’s just about surviving, not thriving. No one is working at their highest capacity.” She has played The Sims on and off for years, but she always gives up after a while—it’s too repetitive.

Earlier versions of The Sims had an autonomous memory function, according to Marina DelGreco, a staff writer for Game Rant. But in The Sims 3, the system was buggy; it bloated file sizes and caused players’ saved progress to delete. So The Sims 4, released in 2014, does not automatically create memories. PC users can manually enter them, and Sims can temporarily feel feelings: happy, tense, flirty. But for the most part, a Sim is a hollow vessel, more like a machine than a living thing.

The game itself doesn’t have a term for this, but the internet does: “smooth brain,” or sometimes “head empty,” which I first started noticing sometime last summer. Today, the TikTok user @smoothbrainb1tch has nearly 100,000 followers, and stoners on Twitter are marveling at the fact that their “silky smooth brain” was once capable of calculus.

This is, to be clear, meant to be an aspirational state. It’s the step after galaxy brain, because the only thing better than being a genius in a pandemic is being intellectually unencumbered by mass grief. People are celebrating “smooth brain Saturday” and chasing the ideal summer vibe: “smooth skin, smooth brain.” One frequently reposted meme shows a photograph of a glossy, raw chicken breast, with the caption “Cant think=no sad .” This is juxtaposed against a biology-textbook picture of a healthy brain, which is wrinkled, oddly translucent, and the color of canned tuna. The choice seems obvious.

Some Saturday not too long from now, I will go to a party or a bar or even a wedding. Maybe I’ll hold a baby, and maybe it will be heavy. Inevitably, I will kick my shoes off at some point. I won’t have to wonder about what I do on weekends, because I’ll be doing it. I’ll kiss my friends and try their drinks and marvel at how everyone is still the same, but a little different, after the year we all had. My brain won’t be smooth anymore, but being wrinkly won’t feel so bad. My synapses will be made plastic by the complicated, strange, utterly novel experience of being alive again, human again. I can’t wait.

ELLEN CUSHING

is the special-projects editor at The Atlantic.

#health

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stokingthemidnightflame · 4 years ago

Text

Xanthorrhoeas: Fire and Flame (1/6)

(AO3 link here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25173700/chapters/61005721#main)

So I did a thing...wrote a fic. I hope you like it!

Xanthorrhoeas

It’s a little known fact that lingering in the ashes of fire, the beautiful Xanthorrhoeas can spring up again.

Six years after a nasty breakup, Nesta Jia Archeron and Cassian Ramirez still can’t seem to get away from each other.

As Nesta seeks to make sure that life-saving healthcare ends up in the right hands, and far away from Hybern’s hands, she begins to attract threat after threat. Underneath carefully curated pearls, stilettos and tweed jackets, Nesta’s a viper waiting to strike. But she’s fresh out of law school, and the Archeron sisters are wading into dangerously flammable territory.

Where flame appears, heat follows close behind.

Cassian Ramirez is ex-Marine. After two tours, a breakup, and one honourable discharge, Ramirez Securities is a leading digital and personal security company. Nesta has always been his kryptonite; and when he gets the call, there’s no question - he’s always going to have her back. Semper fidelis. Always faithful.

And maybe, just maybe, something else will bloom too.

----

Chapter 1: Fire and Flame

She wanted to be here about as much as Rhysand seemed to want Keir to be here. His arm was curled protectively around Feyre, both dressed to the nines as they greeted each guest with smiles and hugs. The gala was yet another one of Rhysand’s obligations as the CEO of the massive technology conglomerate, Velaris. There were perks to being a thirty something heir of a recently deemed Fortune 500 company: thousands of employees, a healthy salary and almost anything money could buy, but it did not preclude Rhys from having to deal with pompous old white men and their entitled children. Tomas being one of them. Nesta didn’t want to think about her ex, who she saw with two women wrapped around him in a corner.

Unfortunately, she was about two seconds away from pouring her virgin margarita on his smarmy face. He grinned as he saw Nesta and gave an arrogant half-wave, half-beckon, still ensconced by the two blondes, each wearing a tiny scrap of a dress. She ignored him resolutely.

That fucking asshole. Two years, and all she had for it was a shitload of trauma and therapy - six months and still counting.

“Nesta, there you are.” Helion, smoothly said as he finally arrived, wrapping a soft, manicured hand around her elbow. In the nick of time too, as Nesta’s fingers tightened around the half-empty margarita glass.

“You’re late,” she replied stubbornly, trying to be offended by Helion’s charming smile and dazzling beauty. Her date for the night, Helion looked like he had stepped fresh off the runway in a black, double-breasted satin tuxedo. Fuck. She needed to get laid. It had been months since Hybern Co. had started a massive patents war with Velaris, and Feyre had asked her for help. She had never been able to refuse Feyre, which was how she had ended up working the case with a bunch of overqualified associates with half a brain between them. And how she ended up with exactly no time for herself.

Harvard grads were not all they were cracked up to be.

“My apologies. I only just came from a meeting, darling,” he responded smoothly as he continued to guide her gently across the room. They moved further away from Tomas and his oh-so-punchable face. With a start, she realised that he had guided her all the way to the middle of the dance floor. Screw Helion and his charm.

“May I have this dance?” A voice came from behind her. Startled, Nesta whirled around and came face-to-face with Cassian Ramirez. Formerly known as fiancé. But that was a long time ago, Nesta.

She arched a single brow, nodding to Helion as he let go of her hand.

As Cassian offered an open hand, she composed herself, trying not to think about how handsome Cassian looked in his slick burgundy suit. She was a sucker for a good suit, and his hair was tied back, making his dark brown honey eyes all the more prominent. It didn’t help that he had worn that exact suit on their second date. It had been so long, but she could still remember him in exacting detail.

Nesta hasn’t laid eyes on Cassian Ramirez for at least a year and a half. Not since Tomas started getting violent. And even before then, they were on tenuous terms. Things had never been the same after she had stormed out of their apartment six years ago, her heart savagely ripped out and stepped upon. Nothing good ever came after that. It was all tortured glances from the other side of galas, avoiding bubbly messages from Feyre and Elain and Rhysand and Azriel to go out with them! and the unending ellipsis of unsent texts. Over and over again.

“She’s all yours,” Helion said, quirking his eyebrows. Nesta reflexively pinched Helion, and he winced before hurrying away. Cassian in the meantime, was gazing into her eyes, She could feel her hands start to sweat under his intense gaze, and as she tried to wipe her hands discretely on the thorned roses stitched into her stiff silk dress, Cassian offered a hand that Nesta took.

“I uh - ” as he stood in front of her, he suddenly seemed lost for words. Cassian's hand was warm and calloused and still perfect for her. Once, these caresses had been as natural and fluid as breathing. Even with the rift that stood between them, it still felt so right.

She smiled serenely and ignored Cassian’s fumble, patently aware of Tomas in the corner. “We should probably dance.” The words hover in the air, an olive branch that she wonders if Cassian really deserves. Regardless, it doesn’t matter. They can’t make a scene tonight.

And if she’s telling the truth, she doesn’t want to either. After Tomas...Nesta craves the kind of blissful innocence she had with Cassian. Lingering kisses and slow mornings, late nights with coffee and curled up with each other.

“Uh-yes.” Cassian blushed, his olive skin flushing a cardinal as bright as her dress. “I haven’t seen you in a while. How have you been?” He grasped the olive branch, as Nesta slid into his arms, his hand drifting to a respectable, brotherly place on her waist as he guided her into a delicate spin. Her skin was as delicate as ever, and her as her hair grazed his hand, he shivered.

“Good.” The overture is gone as fast as it came. Her tone is brisk and terse, an end to the conversation. Why did he have to ask that of all questions? Unbidden, her eyes fall upon Tomas again, and she felt her lips purse tightly.

Cassian, perceptive as ever, gracefully glances over, his eyes darkening as they landed on the arrogant lawyer in the corner.

“Yes, I heard that you got together with Mandray,” he said tightly.

Nesta’s fiery gaze slid back to him, as she hissed, “That’s none of your business. Why are you here anyway? Last I heard, you had left for San Francisco.” You were the one that left me. Again and again and again. The thought bubbled up, and Nesta squashed it, willing her tone to remain firm and steady.

He grimaced but didn't fall for Nesta's bait. “You know why I’m back.” His jaw was clenched tight, his gaze firmly upon her as they kept on dancing. Nesta forced yet another smile with gritted teeth.

“Fuck Azriel. That’s not his right and he goddamn knows it!”

“Hybern is dangerous. Don’t be stubborn. You know better than that.” Impassive and cold, his words ignite a fury in Nesta.

“Stubborn? You have the nerve to call me stubborn? After that stunt you pulled-”

His brows furrowed in pain and she felt the urge to dig her nails into the pad of her palm. Anything to stop herself from apologizing for the gaping wound she had re-opened with half a sentence but before she could say something he cleared his throat and said quietly, “I’m sorry. That was - a poor choice of words on my part.”

Nesta scoffed, her fury blanketed again. She didn’t say a word.

“We really do have to get you a security detail,” he pressed instead.

“You mean you.” She accused. He doesn’t object. Azriel would never have just asked anybody to protect Nesta.

“I don’t need a security detail. I’m fine. I know how to kick somebody in the balls,” she said emphatically, trying to resist the urge to rip Cassian a new one. She doesn’t want to hurt him. Not really. Not the way he hurt her. “And if Hybern comes after me in any other way, I will systematically destroy them.”

“As delightfully painful and visceral that sounds, some things require a more delicate touch.” he said, suddenly smirking in a false bravado that Nesta sees right through. “Hybern will be after you in more ways than one. I can help with that. Or have you forgotten my degree in-”

“Cybersecurity and computer science. I remember. Doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself. Elain and Feyre need it more than me.” Her voice is brusque and words to the point. I don’t need this. And even if I did...you would be the last person I ever asked.

His only response was a growl. The smirk disappeared as fast as it came.

“You know as well as I do that Feyre and Elain both have martial arts training. You were the only one who never wanted to learn. Which is fine, but they can protect themselves physically. Unless if you suddenly earned a black belt in the past two years, that kick in the balls and viper mouth won’t keep them down.

“Please, sweetheart,” she hears him beg. Was that anguish in his voice? The nickname dropped so naturally from his lips, but as soon as he says it she flinched, seizing up. You’re such a sweetheart, aren’t you? A pretty little thing... The memory comes back so swiftly that she almost reels. Cassian lifted his hands from her immediately, his eyes questioning.

She pursed her lips firmly. “Don’t call me that.”

Cassian bowed his head and Nesta sees a glimpse of torment, can just barely hear him curse himself as he bites down on his lip. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” It's not why you think. It's much worse.

They dance along to three more songs, before Nesta announced she was tired. She had made her presence known, and ensured that Tomas knew she was in peak ability for their impeding legal battle. Meeting Cassian had not been part of the plan. It left her with the kind of bone-deep weariness that she hasn’t felt since pulling three all-nighters in a row as a law intern.

“Let me drive you home. You still haven’t bought a car, right?” he offered. There was no denying that. Nesta had never seen the need for a car in New York, but she scowled anyway as she disparagingly asked him if he was drunk.

“Not a drop,” he promised. When they had been together, they had rarely drank. Part of Nesta had always wondered if he had reverted back to his pre-Nesta college days of drinking after their less-than-ideal breakup. She glanced over at Feyre and Rhysand who were still dancing together happily, nodding a goodbye, before waving to Azriel and Elain. All of them...in their lover’s cuddles. A wave of jealousy washed over her before she clamped it down, breathing out quickly.

“Fine. You remember where I live, right?” She asked, letting him drape her matching red coat over her shoulders. Watching Cassian’s hands linger on the ruby red coat before he helped her into it almost made her regret wearing it.

Red had always been their thing.

---

How could he forget her home? The brownstone, with its first and second floors decked out in rich brocade and tapestry, hardwood floors for visitors. But then, her third and fourth floors; soft modern furnishings. Carpet so thick that his feet sunk into it. A walk-in closet, wholly converted into a sunken lounging area, snug and cosy surrounded by her favourite novels. Late nights with Nesta curled into him as he read romance novels to her or they watched some trashy flick.

His tongue suddenly felt swollen. He couldn’t breath for a moment. Instead, he nodded, opening the passenger door for her as the valet pulled his car up.

He had to get a grip on himself.

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, looking over to check on Nesta. As he does, his eyes fall onto her monogrammed leather clutch.

NJA.

“So you’re Azriel's girl with the fancy monogrammed bracelet,” Cassian says. He dangles the golden chain with its delicate monogrammed heart in front of her, but frowns when he spots the faint tan line on her writs. Immediately, he feels like an ass for playing around with something clearly so sentimental to the girl.

Nesta’s eyes look up as he slides over her gold bracelet. “I'm not Azriel's girl." As she glances over at him properly, she glares and adds, "And you’re the trust fund baby. Not sure why you’re talking,” she hits back. She grabs the bracelet and clasps it on immediately. No thank you. She had left it behind in the apartment Azriel and Cassian had shared, and Cassian had taken it upon himself to bring it back to her.

Cassian snorts. “Clearly. As if wearing a monogrammed 24-carat gold bracelet isn't a sign of being a trust fund kid."

Nesta pushes up her glasses, puckers her lips and says primly, “I, unlike you, actually pay for my own things."

Cassian shrugs and then foolhardily remarks, "Not if I take you to dinner." He smirks, the kind of panty-dropping grin that has worked so effectively in the past.

"In your dreams, asshole."

Three months later, he knew he was in love with her. She was it for him. He graduated college, while she continued law school. Cassian had moved into her brownstone, bequeathed by her mother. He had promised to never hurt her, that he would always be there for her.

But somewhere along the line, he had fucked it up. Sent her running to Tomas. His hand clenched, fingers digging into his palm, sending a dull pain through his body. It’s her life. He doesn’t get a say. And he knows, knows that he would never impede upon her choices. But he feels a lot.

“Cassian?” Nesta’s confused voice cut through and he ripped his gaze from the purse.

“Sorry. Let’s get going.” His voice is short. Terse. But Nesta doesn’t question it, instead settling into the leather seat and sighing, her eyes fluttering shut.

He remembered how social events always drained her. She loved dressing up but hated talking to everyone. It exhausted her, having to put on that facade of unthreatening politeness, when she was really a viper. A viper in pearls and stilettos, ball gowns and dripping in diamonds, but a viper nonetheless.

As he pulled up, he realised with a start that Nesta had fallen asleep. Her loose, dark hair was strewn across her shoulders, and Cassian wants more than anything to tuck it behind her ear. To do anything so that the way her forehead was creased, even in sleep, softened and-

“Nesta,” he said abruptly instead. He can’t keep fantasising. It’s not fair for her, not when it’s his fault. His fault, his fault, his fault. When he sees her, all he can see is his mistakes, again and again and again.

Her face reddened as she fumbles with her clutch. “Let me check everything’s okay, alright?” He reassured her.

Nesta nods without a fight, still tired. She passed him her keys without a fuss, following him as they walk up the stairs to the brownstone.

As soon as he unlocked the front door, he noticed the heavy, musk scent. It’s so out of place with the light, lavender and floral scents that Nesta has always favoured. But maybe something changed after you left. It wasn’t until he nearly tripped over the box right behind her door that he realised something was very, very wrong. As he inhaled, he tried to keep his stomach from lurching.

“Nesta, I want you to stay calm, okay?” he said carefully, pulling out his gun. Her eyes widened, her hand trembling as she asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Liar. Liar. Liar. It thrummed in his head, making it hard to concentrate. “Just call Azriel, okay? Tell him to bring the Level 1 team. And hurry.” She nodded, pulling out her phone and dialling. As she started talking, he glanced back at the box.

Inside the cardboard box, was a decapitated snake nestled amongst red roses. The same cardinal as Nesta’s dress. It doesn’t take a genius to realise the death threat. Not when he was pretty certain the snake was a viper. The stench wasn’t just from the dead snake, he realised.

The roses had been dipped in blood.

Cassian took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching his hand. Focus. Nesta needs you.

Because Nesta’s never been one to listen to Cassian, she had, unbeknownst to him, walked over and looked over his shoulder. He only realised when he heard her gasp in fear, hand reaching up to her throat as if she was being choked.

Immediately, Cassian turned around, holding her. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he promised. “I’ve got you. Do you still have the go bag we made?” He remembers teaching her how to be safe in the old, cavernous brownstone. He had bought her the grey cargo bag two weeks after they started dating. He had probably come on a little strong, but at the time, he didn’t care.

Nesta clutched onto his shirt, but he felt her nod against him. Selfishly, a part of him feels gratified that she still feels some measure of comfort in him. The rest of him hates himself for even thinking that at this moment. “Okay. Once Azriel and my team gets here, we’ll get the bag and you’ll spend the night at my place. Is that okay?”

She let out a sob, and Cassian tightened his grip on her. After what seemed like an eternity, Azriel pulled up, his face drawn and tight. Azriel and Nesta had been friends for longer than even Cassian had known Azriel. They were twin souls of fire and ice, with a deep understanding of each other.

Cassian nodded to Azriel, his eyes a silent order to him. Azriel inclined his head ever so slightly, and Cassian returned his focus to Nesta. “Azriel’s going to get your bag. Then we’re going to get out of here.”

There was a single nod from Nesta as they walked towards the minivan, Rowan sliding open the door for them. Two minutes later, Azriel returned with the grey duffel bag that made Cassian’s heart clench. It hurt more than he could say that Nesta had kept the bag. But it lit a new fire in him too.

Nesta had regained her poise, sitting ramrod straight on the bench, seatbelt clicked into place. As Cassian and Azriel took seats on either side of her, she didn’t say a word. But her hands were clenched so tight, her knuckles were white and her skin was blanched.

“We’ve got you,” Cassian said quietly as he looked at Azriel over Nesta. Azriel’s face was easy to read: Don’t fuck this up. You better not make me regret my decision to call you.

As Rowan drove, the only thing Cassian could think was she’s in danger again. I have to protect her.

I swear, I won’t fail you ever again Nesta.

I swear it on my life.

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #feyre #rhys #acotar #acomaf #acofas #modern au #viper #feysand #elriel #rowaelin #throne of glass #nesta x cassian

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unholyhelbig · 4 years ago

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The Vampires Familiar

Read Both Posted Chapters on AO3

Title: The Vampires Familiar

Ship: Lizzie Saltzman/Hope Mikaelson

Hope Mikaelson took three even gulps of the shop's air and tasted magic. Old magic that burned the back of her throat and nipped at her lungs until she felt like they were on fire. The odd odor of rosemary and chamomile clung to her clothes. The herbs were stacked in even and dusty jars against the far-right shelves like candles in a store. They had no lids, and separately everything was harmless. But she feared what could be created when combined.

She listened as the bell chimed with her entrance to the small business at the edge of the French Quarter. It was narrow and long instead of large and wide, posters for an upcoming circus littered the walls and a few sheets of paper advertising summer babysitting had the bottoms crudely ripped off, number smeared in black ink.

When she was younger, Hope used to enjoy taking trips to magic shops with her Aunt Freya, the jazz scene in New Orleans had just sparked a flame and different melodies, melancholy and otherwise, flowed through the city like air. They would find herbs and boil them up and fix things that had been broken for a long time.

That strength was felt the moment she walked through the door of Conrad Drew’s, Jade at her heels dutifully. There was soft gold light and the building shielded them from the sounds of the city, the bustle of parties, and iron wheels of cars.

Drew was an old man now, still holding himself correct behind the glass-paned counter with his fingers leaving little smudges. His hair was graying and his body fell rigid with fear when he glanced up, smile fading. “Your kind isn’t welcome here.” Was all he said.

“Don’t worry, we won’t stay long,” Hope responded, walking across the wood floor until she reached the desk. “I just have a few questions.”

“Take them somewhere else, plenty of magic shops in town.”

Conrad Drew was a resolute man, once young and vibrant and strong in his words. He had held the shop under his thumb for the better part of a decade, before that, it was his fathers, and his before that. Hope met him when he was twenty, simple, and able to down liquor as if it were pure water. He had aged, and so had she.

“Oh come on, I thought we were friends.” Hope cooed, letting the glass cool her fingertips. The heat left small crescents close to the service. They dissolved as quickly as they appeared. “Besides, it isn’t up for much discussion.”

He clenched his teeth and thinned his expression into a tight one. His leathery skin was glossy under the low light of the magic shop and his lungs growled like a lion pacing it’s iron cage, shoes kicking around sour hay.

Jade picked up the nearest book, dust pulling from the pages. “Don’t touch that. What do you want?”

Though the words were directed towards the curious vampire, he never moved his ghostly stare from Hope. Her fingers twitched and he noticed entirely all too quickly. Hope Mikaelson had a temper like stained glass, just like her father. Intricate and beautiful but shatter prone.

“There’s been an unusual spike in magic lately. It’s buzzing around us even as we speak, Mr. Drew, I can feel it.” She was soft with her words but still moved her fingertips against her bare arms until they left little white lines from the pressure. “You can too.”

“It’s a magical city, girl. Of course, you can feel it.”

“This is different. This is darker- an uprising of sorts. And I want to trust that I’m not foolish enough for believing in the loyalty of your witches.” Hope leaned forward and the scent of old magic was replaced with cheap cologne and sweat, primal fear that Conrad Drew didn’t show well. “Am I foolish?”

The French Quarter witches had been rooted in New Orleans for centuries before they branched out into different covens. Hope had an unmovable fist around the throat of each of them- and that stemmed from the control of the company Conrad liked to keep. The ninth ward kept to themselves, kept their magic in check.

“If there’s strange magic it’s not from us. We’re not naive enough to practice right where your castle stands.”

Hope couldn’t’ tell if that eased her worry at all, or the strange electric feeling that danced across her skin in a dangerous tango. But she believed him, even in his annoyance and bubbling anger at her for crossing the boundaries they had drawn a long time ago.

He let out a sigh and pulled a yellowed jar from the shelf behind him, Hope couldn’t read the label, mottled with age. “You should try the Garden District.”

“The Garden District?” Jade had long ago abandoned her book, “Those hippie freaks don’t have it in them. Don’t they worship their regent like a God?”

“They’re unconventional, yes, but that doesn’t mean you can discount them.” He said.

Jade shrugged her shoulders dejectedly and wandered over to the far wall. She squinted at the contents in the mason jars, careful to shove her fingers in her pockets like she was in an art museum, gazing at pictures expertly painted, gold plaques carved with the words DON’T TOUCH.

Hope had no such worry about the witches that dressed in white to get closer to the pure source of magic. They had been holed up in a large house on the west side of town since she herself was a child; her father let them be, let them simmer, and practice what they wanted with the respect and patience of a noble man. So she had done the same.

“Was that all, Miss Mikaelson?”

It had been. The early evening was bleeding into a desolate night filled with the sound of crickets and the wet summer air that made her want to peel her own skin off. An expertly crafted wooden sign indicated that the magic shop was closing its own doors and Hope was never one to linger after hours when a place lacked good liquor.

The door with the little bell and the burgundy paint flung open with enough force to crack the double-plated glass that protected it. Jade drew in a sharp breath and Hope felt the defensive bit of energy strike against her fingertips akin to a match.

A girl crashed to her knees and winced as they stung tearing against the aged wood. She was drenched in the pungent smell of sweat mixed with swamp water and mud, it left an even ring against the midsection of a pure white dress, something that had once been spotless but was now torn with the scent of blood and moss.

Hope exhaled because she decided that it was better than the opposite, perfectly content with the heir of magic instead of muck. This girl was captivating and a near stranger. Her blonde hair was stained similarly with mud and tears streaked down her cheeks. Eyes so pale they were almost gray. Mud darkened behind her nails and blood soaked close to her collar, not from a bite, but a tear, a simple slice in her skin that looked all too intentional.

Conrad moved across the shop wordlessly and flipped the large iron lock against the door “What in God’s name-“

“I need help,” She girl gulped out, her voice was broken, pained from screaming. “There are people after me and I didn’t know where else to go.”

“A hospital?” Jade suggested, blinking at the scene.

“No, no I couldn’t. That can’t help me not against them.”

Hope hesitated “Who did this to you?”

The girl’s breath slowed, no longer a jagged pant but something loose and unstable. She hugged herself close, still sitting against the floor and dripping mud that would be nearly impossible to scrub away. “I took something important from a group of witches. It was for the greater good, I swear it, but they don’t’ see it like that. They have a tracking spell on me and I figured— fuck if anyone was strong enough to counter it with a cloaking spell it would be”

“Me,” Conrad finished the sentence. “Whatever it is, I’ll need more power than I have. It was half-witted to show up here. One man can’t take down an entire coven.”

“What about yours?” She searched desperately.

“They’re indisposed. You can’t hide here, girl. I’m sorry, it’s not my fight.”

Hope rolled her eyes, staring the sad excuse for a regent down. He liked to protect his people, and the tribrid could admit to her own motives as well. But watching the girl, so small and unsure of herself, it pulled at her. Pulled at her the same way that it did with Jade in the 1800s and countless others that shared her disposition. She blamed her mother for her soft side.

“Have some pity, Drew. Where would the world be if we didn’t take mercy on anyone?”

“A hell of a lot safer, your daddy knew that.”

She ignored the comment and the mention of her father. Flames licked at her skin, and an acid taste pressed against the back of her throat but she swallowed it down, kneeling in front of the scared witch, so pulled into herself that she barely noticed another presence until now. Her beaten stare flashed in recognition, and fear, and something else entirely that Hope couldn’t read.

She whispered, soft “Now, I think you and I can make a deal.”

“I’ve heard stories about you.” The stranger swallowed the dirty taste on her tongue “I think I’d rather risk my luck in the quarter. I don’t need your protection.”

Hope gave a wolfish grin, fighting back a bitter laugh. Even now, even crouched low coated in every kind of grime that the Louisiana swamps had to offer, she refused her. It made an odd bout of pride swell in Hope’s chest because the stories had lived on and so had her presence in this town seeping with the history of her family.

“You took something from a bloodletting frenzy of homicidal witches. Like hell, you need my protection.”

The girl gulped in the same air that Hope had when she first entered the small shop. She stared at her supposed savior, at Conrad Drew, and a stranger leaning close enough to the shelves to clear them entirely. She felt the hot floor against her knees and tasted the waters of the swamp she had waded through, and though it was slight, she could pick up on the magic of a woman entirely too patient to compete with the fairytales.

She conceded “What kind of deal?”

#lizzie saltzman #hope mikaelson #hizzie #Hizzie fanfic #hizzie fanfiction #Legacies #legacies fanfiction

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enkelimagnus · 5 years ago

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Jonabelle: Monstrous

Sebastian!Jonathan/Isabelle fic, Canon Verse, Fight, Hurt/Comfort

Warning for self-harm, blood and mentions of violence

Sebastian and Isabelle have a fight after he hurts someone for her, and it sends Sebastian in a terrible spiral.

Read on AO3

Sebastian’s fingers were red with blood and he couldn’t stop staring at them. They were steady, not shaking or trembling as they should be after what he’d done. He barely even felt remorse.

He’d seen the man’s eyes follow Isabelle as she walked through the Institute. He’d seen the way he sneered at her orders, the way he shared looks with his colleagues and friends as she spoke. He’d seen the hunger in his gaze, he’d smelled the disgusting arousal the man felt when he caught her training.

He’d been doing that for weeks . Following her as she worked, staring at her like a predator. Sebastian hadn’t been able to take it.

He knew enough about lust as a weapon to know the man was dangerous. And he needed to be stopped. If it wasn’t Isabelle, it would be someone else. It was never one girl. It was always several, it was always monstrous.

He remembered Lilith’s lessons on lust and sex and love and how twisted it could be. Sebastian himself still had issues with his own lust and his own ways of showing love. They tended to be bloody, violent and not very… desired by the person he loved.

His fingers were red with blood and he pushed back the urge to lick them clean, to savor the kill. Even if there was no real kill to savor.

They’d stopped him before he could kill the man. Too fucking bad. The anger rose in him again, burning his veins. He could almost feel his eyes shifting to black, his power rising with the anger.

It was so hard to control sometimes. Often, he wished he could control it. And sometimes, he wished he didn’t have to. He wished the Clave would let him explode. He wished the Lightwoods would let him explode.

He stared at his fingers. He hadn’t been this violent in months. He hated and loved how good it felt to be mad and to be powerful.

He remembered the pale skin of the man, his face getting whiter even, his body stinking of fear. Sebastian took a deep, calming breath. The air didn’t smell like any particular emotion right now. Good.

Heels resounded in the corridor behind the door. His senses were heightened by his activated demon blood. He felt high on it, on the blood and the fear and the feeling of power that had come with grabbing the man by the throat and ripping his junk off.

Before Isabelle, before his new life, he would seek out a partner and fuck until the high wore off. He’d have broken them, or let them break him, depending on what he felt like. Sometimes even both in turn.

It was different now. Isabelle wouldn’t want to have sex with him after what he’d just done. He’d seen the look on her face, the one that made him shiver and the one that meant he’d fucked up really bad. He hated to upset her.

She took a deep breath behind the door and the key turned in the lock. The great wooden door opened and she stepped towards him. He couldn’t resist the urge to turn around and look at her.

There was blood on her tight black dress. He couldn’t see it but he could smell it. A shiver ran down his spine and he kept his eyes on her. Her dark hair, her tan skin, strong legs that he wanted around his waist and…

“Stop,” Isabelle ordered.

She knew what he was thinking. Sebastian winced. He probably had the same look in his eyes as the man had. Should he be ripping his own eyes out for that?

“Why, in the Angel’s name, did you do that?” She said, her voice harsh and cold. “Why did you think this was a good idea?”

Sebastian huffed. “He was staring at you. He was a predator.”

Isabelle crossed her arms. “I don’t fucking care. I don’t fucking care what you think you saw in him. You crossed a line!”

Sebastian couldn’t help but glare at her. “I protected you. I thought you’d be happy.”

Her nails dug into her arms and Sebastian tried not to focus on it. He tried to rein in the snarling beast in his mind. Was this what werewolves felt like?

“Happy?!” Isabelle exclaimed. She was so mad he could smell it. Fuck, it was intense. It hit Sebastian like a truck, the blood and the anger making him feel almost dizzy. “You maimed someone, almost killed the man, and now the Clave wants to put you on trial!”

Sebastian grinded his teeth. He didn’t give a fuck about the Clave. He wanted to be free, right now. He was high on blood and demonic energy and he couldn’t think of anything but riding that high.

“I don’t care,” he replied. “The Clave can do whatever they want. I was right. And you know that.”

Isabelle huffed. “That’s not the point. He didn’t do anything! You attacked him and almost killed him. That was wrong.”

Sebastian looked back down at his fingers. The blood was almost dry now, darker than before, stuck to his skin. He hadn’t felt this in months.

“I protected you,” he repeated. “That’s all that matters to me, Isabelle.”

He stood up finally from where he was sitting. Two steps below her, he was the same height as her, staring right into her eyes.

“I don’t need your fucking protection,” Isabelle hissed. “I’m not a fucking damsel in distress and I don’t want your protection. Not when you act like a monster.”

Sebastian opened his mouth and closed it again. He knew it was heranger speaking but… Isabelle had been the one person to never call him a monster. The pain of that cut through the haze of the blood high like an ice cold dagger.

He took a step closer to her, reaching to gently touch her arm, to apologize, but he couldn’t. She flinched away from him. Isabelle had realized what she’d said, but she didn’t apologize then. She looked at him with dark, angry eyes. Eyes that said, ‘I want to hurt you’.

“I see,” he replied, colder, pained.

She just looked at him. “You’re being confined to your apartment until they question you and put you on trial,” she added. “You should go now.”

Sebastian looked down at his hands. He felt the urge to scrub all of the blood off, to wash it all away. Isabelle walked away and the door snapped shut behind her. He stayed outside of the Institute, shoulders heavy, his entire body shaking.

Eventually, he turned away from the Institute and walked through the wards. He pushed his hands into his pockets, so if there were people with the Sight around, they wouldn’t see the blood.

The apartment wasn’t far, unfortunately.

The main room was quiet, as if the apartment knew what he’d done, what he’d said. He peeled off his clothes on the way to the bathroom, sweater and jeans hitting the floor on the way. The water wasn’t set to the hottest setting. Isabelle had been the last to take a shower here.

He pushed it to the hottest for himself and stood under the water until his skin hurt and his legs ached from standing too long. He stood there until he felt the burning, until he felt it cleanse the monster out of him.

Isabelle hated it when he burnt himself like this, she said it wasn’t good. But he didn’t know any other way to make it right.

It burnt brighter and brighter until he felt like blisters were forming over his skin, yet he didn’t move. He deserved it after what he’d done.

“Sebastian?” Her voice called out from the front door.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t know if he could. The pain was blinding him. Overwhelming him. Suffocating him.

She must have heard the shower running and guessed what he was doing. She was going to be so bloody mad at him. His nails scraped at his already abused skin, hard enough to draw blood. He couldn’t stop himself.

The door of the bathroom banged open. He could barely see anything, in between the water that burnt his eyes and the steam in the bathroom. He could see the general shape of her, beautiful and perfect, like an angelic apparition. She waded through the steam and he heard her pained cry.

“Sebastian!” She shouted, running into the shower. Her mouth pressed in a thin line as the burning water hit her skin and she turned off the spray.

Unable to hold himself for much longer, dizzy with the loss of the constant burning water, Sebastian stumbled down.

She grabbed at him, pulling him closer. Her hands slipped on his wet and painful skin, making him wince. It hurt. Everything hurt. He rested against her, soaking her dress. His face settled against her collarbone, nose against the soft skin of her throat. He breathed in as much as he could, coughing from the pain immediately after. She smelled like worry. Like love too. He wanted to cry.

She moved, grabbing her stele and reaching over to his thigh. She activated his iratze, the black rune shining golden as it healed.

Immediately, he could breathe a little better.

“I’m so sorry,” he croaked. “I’m so sorry, Isabelle, I’m so sorry.”

Isabelle shushed him, keeping him close and rocking him gently. He curled into himself, into her. His body was bigger than hers, longer for sure, but he felt so small. Isabelle’s hand caressed his wet hair, rubbing patterns soothingly onto his scalp.

The pain and the hotness left his body and soon enough, he was cold and shaking.

With one arm around his waist, Isabelle pulled him to his feet and helped dry him with the fluffy lavender-colored towel Sebastian loved.

He put on some comfortable clothing, sweatpants and a sweater and sat on the bed as she did the same. Her dress was soaked along with her tights and her underwear. She put on a large tshirt and some pyjama shorts, put her hair up in a bun and sat next to him.

Her hands were soothing on him.

Sebastian took a deep breath and reached over to touch her. She didn’t flinch away and relief and gratitude flooded him again.

“I won’t do it again,” he whispered. “I’m sorry…”

Isabelle sighed heavily. “I didn’t mean what I said,” she replied. “I’m so sorry. I love you so much, I just…”

Sebastian closed his eyes for a second. “I crossed a line. I know I did.” He felt so exhausted right now.

Isabelle nodded. “I won’t say that ever again. I don’t see you as a monster, Sebastian,” she promised.

“I know.”

And he truly did. He knew she didn’t see him the way the others did, she never had. Still, it had hurt more than everything else he’d been through lately. She’d crushed him, for a moment. Enough so the high dissipated and the pain took over.

“I’ll do better. I’ll control myself better,” he promised in return. “I… I’m sorry I don’t feel remorse. I still think he deserved it.”

Isabelle sighed heavily. “Maybe he did. Let’s hope the Clave will see it that way. I can’t lose you. Not when I’ve just found you.”

Sebastian took her hand in his and pulled it up to his lips. He pressed a kiss there, reverent, penitent, too. When he looked back up at her, she was smiling a little.

Underneath the tender smile, she looked sad, worried. He should be, too. The Clave didn’t like him and he wouldn’t bear to be taken from her side.

They both laid down on the bed and he shifted closer to her. She wrapped her arms around him and he rested his head against her chest, seeking comfort. Isabelle sighed, content. Sebastian closed his eyes, enjoying her perfume and her warmth surrounding him.

There was nothing that made him relax like her arms around him.

#jonabelle #sebizzy #isabelle lightwood #sebastian morgenstern #jonathan morgenstern #fic #mine #shadowhunters

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tireddal · 4 years ago

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Her heart's flower {douma x reader}

•warnings: may include grammar (English isn't my mouther-language) and historical mistakes, female reader, prostitute's and human deaths mentions.•

Part 4.1: Dear home

Day continued at the moment. Whole your body was on fire. Growling thanks to yours sensei's hard trainings, you slowly approached dorms. Takashi and Shiro only chuckled at once when have met your tired and angry sight. You sighed, sitting near them on the wood floor and threw training blades near yourself.

"It must be cold, but you should take it." You lazily turned your face to Takashi's, who held out a bowl with rice and little pieces of salmon. Boys already have had their lunch.

You smiled weakly and nodded, being too tired to say anything. You took bowl with chopsticks and started eat with furious speed.

"Oi, Y/N-chan, don't eat so fast! You would choke." Shiro smiled and tried to calm you down. Gave him quick look, you just hummed and continued your lunch. Takashi sighed heavy, rolled his eyes.

After finishing the feast you smiled weakly, looking at beautiful sky and relaxing. Boys were talking about new technique, when you stood up and growled, because you could feel how your legs were trembling.

"Y/N, where are you going?" Shiro raised an eyebrow and looked at you, has been confused.

"I promised somebody to meet with them." You shrugged. "However, thanks for lunch!" After these words you quickly hid behind dorms and walked to forbidden half of training estate.

***

You grumbled, wading through multiple corridors. Male and feminine house's parts differed, because yours dorms were poorly furnished. You had only necessary things like tatami and small box for your own things like clothes or little portable weapons, otherwise women's half were filled with dressing table, warm mats and decorations.

Luckily, girls from this clan have known you and became your friends in the childhood, so now you had good possibility to come for them every time when you needed.

You heavy sighed and quickly got into correct room. There sat young lady, who was singing and enthusiastically spinning bandage.

"Misaki-chan?" You called quietly, approaching girl from behind. She has winced and turned to you. Misaki bowed and patted place near her, requesting you to sit. While you were sitting, she hid her network under layers of fabric.

"Good evening, Y/N-san." She gave you an adorable smile, fixing her dark hair. "How can I help you today?"

You hummed, thinking about your deal. While training you decided to know about Upper Moon Two more. You didn't understand, why you were so interested by his personality, but something inside you shouted that you must to find his name.

"I know that your family has good tessen-warriors..." She nodded, so you continued. "Have you got blonde relative, who fight with gold fans?"

Misaki rubbed her sleeve. Her small eyebrows, which were shaped carefully, frowned a little.

"My apologies, but all people in our family have got only dark hair." Girl pointed at her hairdo, stretching little black strand. "I will ask my father about other tessen masters. Oh!" Misaki suddenly stood up. "Maybe, if you show me his technique, I will remember users of it."

You stood up. Inhaled deep, you have tried to repeat Upper Moon's motions. Misaki looked confused. When you finished, girl shrugged.

"It's strange. I have never seen anything like this. It can be European style..."

You shrugged, nervously rubbing back of your neck. You didn't care from which country this technique has came, more important was fact that you could repeat it with difficult. Your favorite weapon was katana, but you heard stories when only war fan saved his owner's life.

"Well...However, thanks for spending time with me!"

Misaki blushed.

"Y/N-san! Don't say such embarrassing things. All girls of this clan is happy just to see you in good health!" Her words made you giggling.

"Good night, Misaki-chan. Hope we'll meet soon." Before girl could answer, you have hidden in the dark corridor. Maybe it was rude, but you had heard somebody's talking near Misaki's room.

***

Calmness and silence. You spend only one quiet day after Red Light's district, before your father invited you to his estate.

Knocking of wheels was ringing in your head about few hours. You would like to ride a horse, but your father is famous daimio, and he decided that travelling by coach will be more safe for you. What a shame...

Sudden silence.

"Welcome, L/N-san!" Silence was broken with this loud cry.

Opened coach's door, you were greeted by two girl-servants and your father's second hand, tall old man with long silver hair. All bowed respectfully, so you gave them a weak smile and nodded. You have given your soldiers some requests about coach and horses, before your father's servants led your way to big manor. You inhaled deeply, calming yourself. Garden in the front of house was still gorgeous. You would like to bring flowers from there to your mother again.

***

Douma twirled f/c piece of fabric between his index and thumb. He was really confused by a lot of events in his cheesy life. On the one hand, he had orders from Muzan-sama and he should have done it quickly, but on the other Douma was interested in young warrior, who was hiding herself. He has seen a lot of strong girls because of his "profession", but woman-samurai? You had friends and they knew about your identity. He understood it from how they have been calling you.

Douma grinned, clenched his hand with a piece of kimono on it. He had too many questions about you and only one answer. "Y/N". He would have fun.

Doors opened, admitting two people.

"Daki-chan and Gyutaro-kun!" Douma hasn't stood up from cushions and only waved lazily for guest. His grin changed into fake friendly smile at the moment. Two young people bowed slightly.

"Douma, for what have you invited us?" One of them asked and crossed arms on her chest.

"My, my..." Douma wiped off small tear from his eye with long sleeve. "You didn't ask your adoptive father about his health...How rude..."

Male guest clenched teeth by annoyance. Girl sighed, shaking her long light hair.

"Master has given us orders, so please," Her voice tensed. "Tell us your request faster."

Douma hummed and flung peace of f/c fabric at girl. However, she quickly caught it and looked sharply on fabric.

"I want to know whose fabric is this." Blonde smiled again, fanning himself. "All information about this person. I believe in your power, my dear."

Guests kept silent. Man frowned.

"Muzan-sama gave us orders, so we will be able to satisfy your request few months after..." Gyutaro said harshly. Daki only shrugged in agreement, fixing her shirt.

Douma's smile dropped. Girl gulped, has looked how deep blonde's nails dug into soft cushion.

"Oh." Douma stopped fanning himself. "In that case, Muzan-sama would like to know about your little fault with Sound Pillar? Maybe he won't give you difficult orders in the future." Man gave guests wide smile, making them tremble. "I just care about you two, Upper Moon Six."

Daki felt how her tongue stuck and sweat started to cover her spine and neck. How he could find it? Only she and her brother knew about this...And it was only one fault! Daki's long colorful nails clung in shirt's fabric, cut it. Gyutaro's features didn't change, but his shaking hand issued him.

Suddenly, girl has fallen on the varnished floor and bend forward in low bow. Her limbs were still trembling.

"Douma-san..." Daki's voice was weak, she sobbing a little. "Please, forgive your foolish children for disrespect...I will find this person very soon!" Girl rose her face, begging. "I will do all what in my power...."

Floor has creaked. Gyutaro adopted a bowing pose like his sister. Douma only giggled on it lightly, scanning young people's fearful features.

"Oh, don't worry, Daki-chan! I always sure in my dear adopted children!"

***

Native estate's walls reminded you of childhood. You has smiled on thoughts about it. You remembered mother's sweet voice and your own laughs, when you two were playing there on the floor. And how your father was shocked by view of you with his katana in your small hands. You have been smiling brightly and mumbling about killing all shogun's enemies.

You gently touched wall, caressing it.

"L/N-sama is waiting for you." Servant, young boy, has bowed in front of you and reported. You sighed, hiding your hand and nodded.

#kny x reader #kny anime #kny imagines #daki kny #kny #douma x reader #douma #kny douma #kimetsu no yaiba #demons slayer

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dopescotlandwarrior · 5 years ago

Text

A Hero Among Us-Chapter 12

Special thanks to @statell for all your help

Previous chapters at AO3

Chapter Twelve

January went by in a blur. The confirmation of ownership of the hidden property made the great caper a reality. Jamie and Ned spent time bent over plans, Claire and Misses Crook spent time cleaning out the dirt, pulling draperies to wash, sweeping piles of dust to be cleared and washing furniture. Rupert installed a line that could withstand the weight of wet rugs and the women beat them dustless and then washed them. Misses Crook was an absolute stickler for cleanliness, Claire was a bit more practical opting for moderately clean.

“Misses Crook I have spent many hours here and still have not seen all the rooms. Can we agree to a deep scrubbing when time permits? May I show you your rooms?”

The older woman looked up, “rooms?”

Claire reached for the knobs of double doors pushing them open with great flourish and breezed by Misses Crook who was spellbound, mouth open, and stuck looking into the largest room she had ever slept in. Claire pointed to the sitting room and bathroom with her own tub. Misses Crook shook her head no and finally found her voice. “Misses Fraser, this is yer room, the master’s room.”

Well no, our room has its own hallway off the top of the stairs, like a separate floor it seems. I believe this was the room of the nanny or governess because its surrounded by three smaller rooms. That hall there leads to three rather large rooms, possibly for guests.

The home was decorated in the European style of fancy, over-furnished rooms and when they discovered the attic, Claire jumped up and down with happiness. They had a place to move the excess furniture.

Jamie wanted to take advantage of Randall’s declaration on the vineyard and keep nosy neighbors away from their new property. Claire and Misses Crook went with a land representative on Wednesday afternoons and endured hours of boring property viewings with a long-winded salesman. Every third or fourth property Claire would make a fuss and talk openly with Misses Crook about bringing Jamie to see it. It was enough to keep the gossip ship afloat and moving in the wrong direction.

Jamie decided they would start the transplanting on February fifteenth and prayed for enough time to get the healthy vines removed at the very least. Each week, the men would deconstruct one cabin and move the wood to the new property. It was always done on nights with little moonlight in silence and relying on their sense of touch. When dawn lit the landscape again there would be one less cabin. It was very difficult terrain between the two properties. There were strained and broken ankles from walking in the dark and general exhaustion from the distance and burden of transporting materials. Jamie saw the wear on the men and not a vine had been dug up. He ordered the cabin construction to stop for now. The men were given an extra meal, a day off to fish, sleep, get drunk or get laid, if they were lucky enough. It made a difference. On the next workday they would clock the removal and transport of a single vine so Jamie could estimate how much of the vineyard he could save.

Jamie called it the dress rehearsal and chose the fifth of February, 1882. The exercise was to move a single vine and estimate the time to pull it from one vineyard and bury it in the other. They all feared an early arrival of Randall and the loss of their crop, so moods lifted as the date approached to finally move them to safety. At six in the morning, Jamie smiled and pointed at a vine randomly as two of the men approached with shovels, just happy to be included in the dress rehearsal. At six o’clock that night, Ben pulled Jamie from the hidden property, his hands and feet were bloody from the unyielding earth refusing to release the vine. The challenge continued with traversing the rugged land and retrieving the dead replacement from the same unmerciful dirt on the other side. Jamie was despondent. Ben forced him on Brimstone and promised to help find a solution. Jamie knew it was God or nothing. He couldn’t bear to think of how this would crush Claire. For the first time since devising this scheme, he wondered I it was even possible.

Ben could not help Jamie, so he went home to sleep a few hours. The men tried to speak to him, but he didn’t hear them. He walked to the back yard and laid on the swing. For hours he watched the twinkling stars, and his failure raged inside of him. He dozed until soft hands touched his face and his eyes jerked open. Claire smiled at her husband and laid next to him.

“Why do you sleep without me tonight Jamie darling?”

“I was watchin the stars,” he lied.

“There are no stars shining tonight.”

Jamie looked at the sky and was surprised to see the stars were blocked from view. As far as he could see in all directions the stars were blocked. He felt another powerful hammer drive a nail into the coffin of his project.

“It will rain tomorrow Sassenach. Not thrilled but it’s been months without a drop. One man’s prayer goes unanswered so another man may flourish. A better man,” he said softly.

“I know one thing better than my own name Jamie and it is you are the best man. You have the truest heart, highest integrity, and a moral fiber that points to the harder road. I have never known such a man as you. I have enough faith for both of us, so rest my love and I will carry your burden of doubt. In ten days, we will move this entire vineyard.”

It was the first ray of hope he felt since early morning. She spoke with authority and conviction he rarely heard from her. “Thank you, Sassenach, I feel a bit better.”

Claire pushed up on an elbow and spoke into her husband's ear; “For a righteous man falls seven times, and rises again, but the wicked stumble in time of calamity. Walk in obedience to all that the Lord your God has commanded you, so that you may live and prosper and prolong your days in the land that you will possess.”

Jaime took her face in his hands and searched her eyes, “and if yer wrong?”

“I am already right. You are my vineyard Jamie, my golden crop, my riches, my promise of the future. No one can take that from me. We own a vineyard in our own right, we have a glorious house and strong men, we don’t need these vines. Ben can find the native people to teach us how to graft and in three years we will prosper safely.”

Jamie took several gulps of air and held her close, “Sassenach, my brilliant Sassenach. Thank ye. Ye have released me from torment and yer amazing. I will spend the rest of my days thanking ye for all ye have said.”

The flash of lightning came with an explosion that threw them into deafness. Claire looked terrified and Jamie picked her up and ran to the house. Misses Crook was there with towels and looked out at the downpour as she closed the door. They all sat at the kitchen table and Misses Crook served hot chocolate to ease sleep and calm nerves while she blushed at Ned. Jaime could not let go of his wife under the table. The thunder was fiercer than any of them had ever heard and they chuckled their appreciation for shelter.

Jamie carried his bride to their rooms and tucked her in. He looked out at the cabins and hoped the men would find some rest tonight. The wind howled and the thunder crashed making Claire call to Jamie for comfort.

Jamie held her close and stroked her hair. “The rain has a debt to pay, our sleeping vines are baked dry. It is a good thing mo chridhe, fear not.”

When Claire was asleep Jamie went back to the window. Frank did many things right, like building the cabins on a raised platform of earth so the water fell away and was routed to the empty land behind the cabins. Where the vegetable garden had been…and Cho lived under a rudimentary lean-to that rested, unsecured, between two small trees. “Christ, Cho.”

Jamie pulled his slicker on and rubber boots. When he opened the door, the wind ripped it out of his hands and slammed it against the wall. It took all his strength to close the door before heading into the wind to find Cho. It took him some time to round the corner behind the cabins and he waded through a foot of water looking for his man. The rain was still blinding, and he was feeling panicked with no sight of Cho. He pushed on looking forward and then he saw him. Clinging to a small tree, head down, fighting the wind. Jamie pried Cho’s fingers from the tree and dragged him to the house. Cho lacked the strength to fight the water and wind and his single layer of cotton clothing was soaked to the skin. The old man stood on the doormat shaking violently. He tried to protest the special treatment and leave out the front door. Jamie stayed his hand.

“Oh good Lord, Mister Cho I’ll get ye warm right away.” Misses Crook came with towels and a blanket. Her heart broke for Cho because of his uncontrollable shaking. Misses Crook went for some tea and hot chocolate and did her best to make him comfortable.

“I know it’s not what ye want Mister Cho but yer stayin inside until the rain stops. Yer a bit too important to lose,” Jamie said softly.

Cho refused the bed in the second guest bedroom and chose to sleep in the bathtub where he seemed to fit perfectly.

The rain raged for a solid week. Part of the terraces came down and the men pulled heavy mud away looking for the vines. It would clear up for half a day and then rain hard for two. The men went back to dismantling the cabins and stacked the wood into individual cabin piles on the new land. Jamie requested the next cabin be stacked behind the barn but didn’t say why and the men didn’t ask.

Claire used the time to pack their clothes, the kitchen, and the treasures she wanted safe. Jamie investigated more of the outbuildings on the new property and found a carriage, a six-horse barn, and expensive saddlery. He wondered what happened to the horses.

On the first clear night in eight days, the night watch noticed several men watching the vineyard. It made Rupert’s skin crawl to know Randall senior was having them watched. He told Jamie the next day.

“Walk with me, Rupert.” The two men walked into the vineyard sinking several inches into the mud. As Jamie talked about building a raft, Rupert walked up to a vine and pulled it out of the ground, taproot and all. His cheeks were bunched up in a happy smile and when Jamie turned around he stopped mid-sentence and stared at the vine in Rupert’s hand.

“Sweet Jesus, ye just pulled it out of the earth, did ye nae?” He gave one a tug and it came right out of the ground. “We start tonight but we need to build a raft, actually three will do. Can ye do it, Rupert?”

“Angus has experience with water but what do ye want with a raft?”

“Get Angus, tell him we’re gonna float them across, starting tonight. Tell him the wood is behind the barn. Get all the men to start pullin the vines starting in the back and work forward. The ground is so wet they will come out easy and we can stack them at the lake. Go, hurry! We need to make haste while the ground is soft.”

Rupert took off to find Angus. Jamie saddled Brimstone and left to fetch Ben. By early afternoon Angus had completed one very substantial raft, but it had to be finished on the water because of its large size. He sent men to carry it to the lake and started on the next raft. They would tie them together, load them with the vines and four men would row the rafts to the other side. When Misses Crook rang the bell for supper to be brought down, Angus was starting the third raft.

With the little light of day left, Jamie and Ben were at the lake looking at the vines piling up and the sections of raft waiting to be connected. They decided twelve men would row to make the best time possible. Split the men into two crews, one at each property, pulling vines and planting the replacements. Things were moving fast now and when the night was dark the men loaded three huge rafts with vines, six men on each side sat on the very edges of the raft, heels touching butts and they started rowing. By the time they were in sync, they were moving across the lake faster than Jamie hoped. He watched the stars to keep their direction and finally saw the shore fire that Ned built to guide them in.

Ben’s crew had another six acres of vines stacked on the beach awaiting the dead vines to stick in the holes. On the third trip across the lake, Jamie exchanged the eleven exhausted men with fresh rowers, and they waited for the vines to be loaded and pushed off for the last run before sunrise. Jaime looked up and saw only clusters of stars here and there, otherwise, the night sky was hidden by incoming clouds. Twenty minutes in, he was dead lost. He told the men to sit still and wait for enough light to navigate. He could see lightning in the distance and watched it come closer. I hope we’re close, he thought.

When the sun finally punched through the layer of clouds it was barely enough to choose a direction. Jamie heard the morning bird song and after five minutes he decided that weird sound was someone imitating a bird and doing a poor job of it. They had drifted quite a way based on the sound Ned was sending across the water. He motioned the direction to the men, and they put their backs into it. Jamie’s relief was profound when he saw the fire and Ned, hands to mouth making his bird noise and pacing the shoreline.

The clouds were pushing a wicked cold wind and the men fought against it to bring the rafts to shore. Men descended on the vines, pulling them off and into holes already waiting for them. Jamie stumbled onto the shore and tied the rafts securely. He had never been so exhausted in his life but there were equal amounts of elation and relief in what they had done. His Sassenach was right, it was the hand of God that intervened, and he wasn’t done yet. The thunder exploded above them, and the rain came hard pushing Jamie and Ned into the house. Jamie looked out at the men stomping the mud around freshly planted vines and yanking dead ones as they moved back to the raft. He could barely see their outlines, but their smiles were impossible to miss.

With the work done for the time being the men gathered, dripping wet, not knowing what to do. Jaime herded them downstairs and promised food would be coming. He built up a huge fire and the men laid down on the hard ground and passed out, shivering with cold.

Jamie wanted to get the women off the {soon to be Randall} property as soon as possible and prayed the rain would let up long enough for Ben to bring the two horses. He pulled the carriage out and readied it to roll. It was nerve-wracking waiting for Ben, but he finally heard Ben’s whistle and ran out to show him the barn. The men hitched the carriage to the two horses Ben brought and Jamie was on his way negotiating the hills and holes of the terrain before finding the road. It was difficult keeping the horses calm in the sliding mud but his anxiety over Claire pushed them through it.

Angus saw the carriage and came running. He held the horses while Jamie ran inside the house apologizing for the wet trail. Claire ran to him and hugged him close but didn’t let go. Jamie looked at her, so petite and clean with Misses Crook standing behind her.

“We have to go ladies. We will float all you’ve packed another time. Can we bring food for the men? It’s been a very hard night for them.”

Misses Crook tried to pass Jamie the heavy cauldron that created the porridge every morning. Jamie took it from her and told the women to wear their heaviest wrap, the wind was freezing. Once they were settled in the carriage Jamie climbed up and thanked Angus, telling him to sleep. They were back on the sliding road heading toward their new home. A lightning bolt came down on the road ahead spooking the horses. They took off running and Jamie did all he could to keep control of them. The women were screaming, the rain was coming down in sheets and Jamie almost slipped out of his seat putting the fear of God into him. When he finally brought the horses under control it was time to leave the road and cut into the property. Jamie stopped the carriage and swung down. He tied the reins off and looked in the window at two women clutching each other, wide-eyed with fright.

“It’s a beautiful day for a ride ladies! Dinna fash, this part is the most fun.” He smiled at Claire and she boldly rushed forward and kissed him.

“You will take us home then?”

“I like the sound of that Sassenach. I must walk the horses in because it’s slippery. The carriage will bounce a lot but it’s plenty safe. If it’s too hard to hold em I’ll be pullin ye out into the rain but let’s see how it goes.”

Jamie reached for the reigns and considered the danger. If the horses spooked and bolted it would flip the carriage killing the horses and probably the women inside. He stood there considering his options and felt a meaty hand pull two reins from the bunch he held. He looked up at a smiling Ben Yountz and almost dropped to his knees with relief. The men nodded and each took a position at the mouth of a horse. They walked the carriage and horses into the property and the ladies were deposited in the house, no worse for wear an hour later.

The men unhitched the horses and slapped their rumps driving them into a stall. Jamie climbed into the hayloft and tore a bale apart smelling the fresh hay. They haven’t been gone very long, he thought. Maybe a year, maybe less. He pushed hay into the stalls and walked with Ben to the house.

Misses Crook had porridge bubbling over the fire in the kitchen and Claire was nowhere to be seen. Jamie scooped a bowl into the hot cereal and went to find his wife. She was spreading sheets across the biggest bed he’d ever seen. She moved quickly and with purpose as the rain came down outside. She approached Jamie and pulled his shirt off, boots and pants, handed him soap and pointed at two French doors.

“You want me to go out there mo chridhe? But why?”

Claire opened the doors to a porch and he smiled as he walked naked outside and washed. Claire draped towels over him and dried him off handing him a clean shirt. When she looked up there were tears rolling down her cheeks.

Jamie held her cheeks and wiped the tears with his thumb. “What is it, love?”

“You”…she swallowed hard, “are the most courageous man alive, and I am the luckiest girl in the world.”

Jamie pulled her to him and kissed her shoulder walking backward as she pushed him toward the bed. He laid down and thought he had gone to heaven. “God Sassenach, have ye…”

Claire looked down at her husband, sound asleep. She moved the hair out of his eyes and watched the corners of his mouth turn up. She thought her heart might burst looking at him, this man she loved so deeply.

Night after night the scene was repeated. The men never complained, Ben was always there to lead his half of the men, and they slowly worked their way into three hundred acres of grapevines. By March first, they had half the vineyard safely planted at the new site. Jamie rode to the old house and was surrounded by men who followed him inside like they owned the place. When he saw the kitchen, he almost fainted.

“What the devil has happened here?”

The men looked at each other and lifted their shoulders, it all looked right as rain to them. Jamie saw food stuck on the floor, countertops, footprints going down the hall and a sink full of disgusting dishes.

“Ye men are pigs.”

Robbie slapped his impressive girth and announced no loss of weight with the men cooking for themselves.

“Jesus Christ, I’ve never seen a room so dirty in my life.”

Later, the men sat around Jamie enjoying the sunny afternoon. He looked from one face to the other and saw sheer exhaustion. They didn’t look well at all and he needed to call a time out to rest. He made the decision to split Rupert and Angus between the two groups at night and exchange the groups weekly. First, they all needed three days off to rest and recharge. He had hardly seen his wife in two weeks, and he was exhausted.

Claire found a wardrobe in the attic and expected it to be full of blankets and men’s coats. When the door swung open her eyes got huge and her open mouth turned up in a smile. Her hand reached for the floor-length robe of the softest fabric, knit somehow, with fur piping, like mink. She pulled the garment out and ran to her room to try it on. It was the most exquisite garment she had ever seen and decided it was time to seduce her husband.

Jamie came bounding into the bedroom a few hours later and stopped dead at the sight of his wife. She reclined on a chaise lounge with a beautiful robe on. The front was open to her navel, belted, then opened again to see her legs up to high-thigh. He knew he would lose his grip on sanity if he didn’t take her this minute. He listened to the rain pour outside and felt the soap in his hand, he walked naked into the rain but watched her every second. He dried off, still watching and walked to her lounge. He ran a finger under the fur piping and touched her nipple. Suddenly he wanted to touch everything, he wanted to be inside her right away, his exhaustion was making his mind scramble and he called to her. A starving, horny, sleep-deprived man could not decide what to do first and he dropped his head in his hands. He saw Claire’s naked leg swing across his lap and straddle him. She pulled his head to her breasts and then kissed him so deeply it touched his soul.

Claire kept her eyes locked on Jamie’s and slid to the floor. She held him in her hands and opened her mouth as she watched him watch her. Her tongue touched all his places and she took notice of what made him weak. When she pulled him into her mouth, she tilted her head so he could see. Jamie pulled her up and aimed himself at her wet core and as she dropped down on him, he thought he would explode. Claire’s body brought him sweet release, she fed him and laid next to him until he chased his dreams.

For the next three days, Claire wore the beautiful and extravagant robe, kept ample food in the room, and read Jamie to sleep after every meal and orgasm. For both of them, it was three days in heaven.

Jamie felt the boards under his knees and dug his ore deep in the water to gain the most speed. He was back in the zone with a single purpose, to ferry the vines to safety. On March twentieth the entire vineyard had been moved except the two acres in front of the house. Ben told him to let it go, he had enough. The ground was tightening around the roots laying claim to those that were left. Jamie felt defeated.

Two nights later Jaime woke to the crash of thunder and room brightening lightning. He listened to the pounding rain and heard voices in his head say, “come and get me… come and get me… come and get me.” He tucked his head against the wind and rain and ran to the vineyard pulling up vines as he ran along. Robbie appeared next to him pulling up vines. They pulled what was left and then ran them to the shore of the lake. Two other men showed up, rubbing their eyes as they loaded the vines onto the raft. Robbie jumped on the raft opposite Jamie and the men rowed hard as the rain pelted them.

Jamie and Ned devised a whistle system when the sky was cloudy, and Jamie sent his inquiry across the water. Five minutes of whistling in all directions and finally a whistle came back. They moved toward it until they saw the light from burning lamps inside the windows of the house.

The next morning the men stacked the dead vines on the rafts and made jokes about the boss not being human. Ned walked out and put a shaky foot on the closest raft looking like he might lunge for it.

“What might ye be thinkin Ned”, asked a concerned Highlander.

Ned looked up as his spectacles slid down his nose, “we must get the vines across right away. We can’t have anyone notice those front acres are suddenly empty.” He prepared himself for the lunge to the raft until a large hand pulled him back. Ten Highlanders piled onto the rafts and a grateful Ned watched them disappear over the horizon.

For the next two weeks, Jamie, Ben, and most of the Highlanders worked on the old property trimming the vines that had been left overgrown and shabby. All the work they had done would be for naught if the vines looked like dead transplants.

As the old vineyard was being trimmed, men were taking loads of personal belongings across the lake and the new house was feeling more like home to the women.

The rest of the cabins were relocated except the front ten. Many days Jamie would work in the equip barn on some project that only Angus knew about and he wasn’t talking. As the calendar was turned back onto the month of May, Jamie and Angus took another trip across the lake on a dark night, loaded the precious cargo from the equip barn, and floated it back. They would work silently for several more hours constructing their surprise.

The next morning Cho sat outside eating his porridge when Jamie asked for his assistance. The quiet man stood and bowed, following Jamie around the cabins and ducking under a line of willow trees that were budding out for the spring. Cho stopped at the site of something miraculous.

“Come Mister Cho. I made this for ye, Angus helped, and I hope you like it. I tried to remember all you told me about your property at home. The floor, the Che-friendly angles, and exposure. You had a water garden, like this I believe,” Jamie pointed to the large area that was dug out at differing depths and wound around his house with a large pool right in front. “I waited for you to fill it with water in case it needs something.”

Cho had remained like a statue looking white as a sheet. Jamie feared he overstepped, or insulted Cho and was filled with dread. He boldly kept going and lifted a large door that when raised above the head slipped easily into grooves in the roof structure. The space inside was ten times his lean-to at the old property. There was a circular fire pit in the middle with a corresponding hole cut into the roof. There was a new bedroll, a low table with a tea service and a canister full of his favorite tea that Claire had ordered from China town. There were four woven mats around the fire pit for relaxing and conversation with visitors.

Claire had been fetched by Angus and walked up to Mister Cho. She took his hand and walked him to the structure smiling brightly. Her curtsy was to the ground, head bent, held for at least a minute. When she rose she took his hands again, “thank you Mister Cho, for saving my life, twice.” She released his hand and joined her husband who asked Cho to come in for one last thing. Cho moved like a sleepwalker, with tears streaming down his face. Jamie pointed at Cho’s love in life. A floor easel, paints, brushes for his calligraphy and pictures, graphite, rulers, and clips. Jamie laid a highly polished box at Cho’s feet. “I made this as watertight as possible and from the Manzanita tree. The wood is so dense it can float for a week with no problem.”

Cho ran his fingers along the edges of the box, the tongue and groove craftsmanship, and the beautiful red wood. Lifting the lid he saw paper of various sizes stacked neatly inside. He held the box to his chest and bowed to the Frasers. He would have a home of his own and make his meditation pond beautiful. The willow trees sheltered the home from view of the vineyard and he could be alone and commune with nature until the next emergency. Cho set the box down and held a hand of each of them, pressing it to his forehead as he bowed, still too overcome to speak.

That night, Cho unrolled the thick new bedroll and watched the stars out of the hole in the ceiling while the fire kept him warm. It was the most luxurious moment in his memory and he smiled as he fell asleep.

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